#I have this fear that I'll continue to find new things wrong with me. continue to find new explanations for why I'm so fucked up and weird.

[neverendingford]

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[coralinnii]

Congrats on reaching the 2.7 K followers milestone!! If it's okay to ask why specifically 2.7 K?

anyways I heard you were taking requests so I'll request something to celebrate with you :-D

I was wondering if you could do one where Idia, Kalim, Azul, Riddle rejects Fem!reader but ends up falling for reader after that, how would they react when they need to reject her and when the realization of them liking her back hits? (I tried to come up with an og idea but idrk if this one is actually good enough writing material :'-D)

 ‧₊˚✧ Waking up Too Late ‧₊˚✧

↳ Realizing their feelings for fem!reader after rejecting you 

feat: Idia ❋ Kalim ❋ Azul ❋ Riddle genre: slight hurt/comfort, open ending note: no pronouns were used but reader is written as a female in mind, reader can be interpreted as Yuu!reader, 

Question: Why specifically 2.7K? Well... I wanted to do something when I reached 2k but by the time I finished my initial wave of requests and WIPs, it already reached 2.7K ^_^" There wasn't a real rhyme or reason... I was just really late to the game

extra note: the joke in the start of Azul’s section doesn’t mean anything bad about him in general. It’s just Azul reminds me too much of myself during my younger days and I wasn't the biggest fan of myself back then.

Also, if anyone is wondering... I haven't stopped writing. I was just unable to find time for myself during the last 3 months because my classes and work didn't leave me time to do much outside of that. Seriously, I had assignments due on weekdays AND weekends! If none of you know who I am or didn't even realize I was gone... ignore me and have a good day ^_^

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

The Big Ooff

Regardless of Idia’s feelings before or after the confession, he rejected you in fear of change. He was content with the way things are, where he doesn’t have to worry about things like romance and relationships. 

Idia can’t imagine being the main protagonist for anything. He’s not the cool main hero or the handsome prince that gets the pretty girl. That's for the extroverts with high charm specs (a.k.a not him). Afterall, when does the NPC ever win? 

So when you, his friend and confidant, his solace and only exception, told him that you held feelings more than friendship…well, his system short-circuited. 

While the two of you said it wouldn’t change your friendship, you still wanted time away from him to heal the hurt. Idia agreed that the risky emotional roll dealt some real backlash to both of you.

The Realization

Idia tried to deny it, but he started imagining an alternative universe where he did accept your confession that fateful day. 

If he were to zone out during his level grinding sessions, he would vaguely envision himself in the same position, but perhaps with you lying next to him or even running your fingers through his flames. These daydreams would surprise him literally off the bed, his aforementioned flames burning a cute pinkish hue.

Some days when he’s browsing around online shops, he would occasionally encounter items that remind him of you.

Now, that in itself is not new but rather it was when he imagined how cute you would be if he got these items for you. Instead of your usual pleasantly surprised thank you, would you lovingly embrace him, maybe even kiss-! 

Ortho was startled to see his brother suddenly falling off his gaming chair, with his hands suspiciously covering his face. 

Crap, not only did he realize his feelings for you (which in hindsight probably was not surprising in the least), but he actually would like to be in a stupid lovey-dovey relationship with you. 

His Next Moves?

Continues to deny everything. So what if he wants a relationship with you? He can’t handle this new step even with these newly realized emotions. Plus, he was the one who blew his own shot by rejecting you the first time. 

So, he falls to his coping mechanism which is to deny everything and that he’s perfectly fine the way things are. 

When the two of you returned to your typical routine, he tried to keep things the way it used to be, as the same with you. 

Except it’s not quite the same. 

You weren’t sure if you were being conscious or that it’s been a while since you two hung out, but you felt that Idia was slightly more…attentive you could say?

He would give you first bids of the better controller before picking anything himself. If you seemed the slightest bit uncomfortable while sitting, the blue-flamed senior would offer you a comfier spot on his bed and a blanket if you wanted, before sputtering that he meant nothing weird about it.

He says he’s fine, but Idia’s is in no way the usual closed-off, sometimes cocky genius you knew before. He’s jittery, more prone to shriek and burst into pink flames to any of your gestures, and according to his little brother his heartbeat is slightly faster than usual. 

It’s weird…it’s like he actually acknowledges you as a woman…

Oh.

“Ahh, I seriously chose the wrong choice option. The story path…I wonder if I could still salvage a good ending…”

The Big Ooff

Kalim’s overly friendly nature, while harmless, is somewhat misleading and confusing to those around him. I mean, if someone threw a grand luxurious party for you, it’s easy to assume that you were someone special. Unfortunately, Kalim is simply just…too friendly. He would do this and more for just about anyone, no matter how special they may or may not be.

Nonetheless, you still wanted to tell him your feelings. You wanted to tell him how his smile and laugh hastens your heartbeat as you smile back. That you feel butterflies every time he extends his hands to you, coaxing you to dance with the boisterous Housewarden of Scarabia. 

To everyone’s genuine surprise, the snow-haired student sincerely apologized to you, not able to return your feelings the same way. All of your friends and also Scarabia was so sure that their Housewarden thought differently of you, but news quickly spread that Kalim never thought about being more than friends with you.

The Realization

To clarify, Kalim never thought about being more than friends with anyone. He’s happy to have so many friends, what more could he possibly want?

But your words did shake him mentally. He never realized that you would feel this way for him. On days when he can’t keep track of the lessons at hand, his mind would doze off and wander back to your confession. 

“Hastening heartbeat, feelings of butterflies, always wanting to smile when you do…”

The more he thinks about your love symptoms, he’s realizing how similar those feelings were to his own when he’s around you. It was why he would always try to find you in a crowd, or why he wanted to be your dance partner on any occasion. Sure, he’s happy to be around everyone, but he feels especially good when it's you.

The pieces are connecting, the clogs are aligning, and soon…

“JAMIL, I THINK I’M IN LOVE TOO!” 

“IS YOUR LACK OF INTROSPECTION THIS BAD?!”

His Next Moves?

Man is now a fool in love. He has this goofy smile on his boyish face at the slightest mention of you. Everytime he thinks about you, he keeps attempting to buy one or two grand bouquets of flowers for you, each flower as beautiful as you, much to Jamil’s chagrin as the vice-Housewarden has to keep reminding him of a crucial fact. 

“You two aren’t dating. Actually worse considering your prior actions.” 

Jamil’s brutal but accurate words brought Kalim back to harsh reality as he realized his mistake in not realizing his feelings soon enough. But not one to wallow in the past, Kalim sought to tell you his feelings just as you bravely did before. 

Whether I personally think if that’s a smart move is irrelevant

Whatever your response is to him, Kalim would fully respect your choice, prioritizing your comfort and feelings over his newly uncovered ones. Despite his well intentions and honest feelings before the realization, his carelessness hurt you and he needed to consider your healing process. 

Kalim would still act like a love-sick fool, however. Buying beautiful trinkets because he thought of you but won’t push them onto you if you couldn’t handle the heavy sentiment (thank Jamil for that). 

Though a little more sheepishly, he would still extend his hand to you hoping for a dance, small little gestures to make you smile even the slightest bit brighter���all this and more because “I like you” and nothing else.

Just because he’s slow in figuring things out, his feelings won’t change so easily. This special feeling of happiness, of love… he’s grateful that you taught him this whole new world.

"I’m a little much? Haha, sorry. I get really happy when I see you...It feels nice being in love with you.”

The Big Ooff

Please reconsider 

Ahem. Azul has grown accustomed to your presence. Perhaps even look forward to it throughout his daily routine, even assisting you in whatever trouble you always seem to get involved in. Some would accuse him of favoritism, but Azul argued that he was simply a gentleman treating a lady right.

He’s too observant to not notice that these sentiments are somewhat mutual. He thought of you as too kind and generous as to spend your spare time helping him around the lounge or to keep him company when the Leech twins get a little much. 

But he was surprised to learn that your feelings were deeper than he initially predicted. There was such sincerity in your voice as you confess your feelings that it shook Azul to his core and turned his human legs weak. 

However, he still had so many aspirations he hasn’t reached yet, opportunities he can’t miss. He can’t afford to split his time for something like romance, something that didn't register to him as urgent in the first place. Love is all well and good, but success is better and more tangible.

He’s careful with his words, gratefully thanking you for your confession and complimenting you with a list of traits he admired about you. 

But you should know Azul by now. He’s hyping you up before ultimately giving you crushing news. Like a company recruiter telling you weren’t chosen despite your apparent talents. 

You knew this, but it still hurts to have your dynamic treated equivalent to that of a business relation. 

The Realization

Azul understood you needed time away. Certain things were said that can’t be taken back and it’ll be a while before you two could feel comfortable around each other again. 

During this time though, the Housewarden truly felt your absence. He feels it when someone else takes a seat in his office where you usually occupy, when his mealtime feels less fulfilling because you weren’t there to enjoy it with him, when his headaches get worse from stress and you weren’t there to lend a comforting hand. 

This sense of void was like a stream of cold water slowly trickling into his body and mind until he felt heavy and almost drowning. What an odd sensation for a deep-sea merman. 

His mind became cluttered. He can’t focus on his work when all he could think about is where you might be and what you were doing. 

He reached his limit when he realized that he couldn’t even hide this internal conflict from Jade or Floyd when their keen eyes pick on every moment of his loss of focus, and they have an inkling as to the cause. 

…Dear Sevens, he might have made a great miscalculation on his own feelings.

His Next Moves?

First off, he’s going to spend some time in his pot. He needs some personal time reflecting over his own obliviousness and self-sabotage. 

Once that’s over, he now has to figure out how to remedy this. A plan to get back into your good graces after the blunder. 

He is a greedy merman. If he’s going to do something, he wants the best outcome possible, which is you forgiving him and accepting him while forgetting the past even happened.  

He’s read through countless relationship books, advice found online, and personal intel that his schoolmates were forced to generous enough to offer under an NDA. 

He’ll use the knowledge he remembered from your confession to his advantage, highlighting the parts of himself that he knew you liked about him. He shows off his good side in hopes to reignite what attracted you to him. 

If there’s anything to expose his intent with you, it’s the flush of his pale skin when you finally thanked him with that sweet smile he missed so much.

"I’m not one to lose an opportunity when within my reach. However long it takes, I’ll earn back what I’ve foolishly lost.”

The Big Ooff

Riddle was, in all seriousness, taken aback by your confession.

The studious Housewarden of Heartslabyul is definitely smart, but he’s just slightly lacking in the people-reading department. 

To him, you were simply a very loving person. He thought perhaps you were on the shyer side but always worrying about his well-being, making sure he’s taken breaks and to enjoy himself between his duties.

You were still a little rambunctious as lately you seem at odds with Ace as you’re quick to smack and silence the mischievous redhead who seems to snicker more often than usual as of late. 

Frankly, you left him stunned, his face similar to a deer in headlights. No textbook or lecture has prepared him to reply back to your sincere confession. 

In the end, he rejected you while giving his full honesty. Silly things like love and relationships were subjects he never thought to consider in depth, and he wasn’t sure it was something he wanted at the moment. 

He tried to explain the best he could, but you couldn't stop the aching feeling of your heart breaking. 

The Realization

Your relationship with Riddle took a blow but it was not destroyed. Albeit some awkwardness here and there, life flows relentlessly as usual. 

But that fateful day would occasionally sneak its way into Riddle’s mind during his spare moments to himself, recalling your determined face, coupled with his memories of your beautiful, clear eyes.

Nowadays, his heart would tighten, his throat would feel dry, and his breathing would be shallower whenever his thoughts sway towards you. 

Spurred by these odd symptoms, he finally looked more into the topic of love. The more he delved into talks on relationships, seminars on emotional attraction, and even tropes from novels, the more it feels as though he’s going down a rabbit hole of new emotional discoveries. 

For a while, the Heartslabyul dorm was on edge as they feared for their necks every time their terrifying Housewarden suddenly turned franticly scarlet out of nowhere.

Alone in Riddle’s room, surrounded by articles and books littered on his once pristine desk, Riddle found his conclusion; he’s in love too

His Next Moves?

Riddle isn’t actually sure how to approach you anymore. This whole “in love” experience is all too new to him. He couldn’t bring up this embarrassing topic with any of his peers, and much less with his mother (Sevens knows he doesn’t exactly want to replicate a relationship like his parents). 

But he couldn’t handle the sudden sensations of nerves that occur every time he’s close to you. He can’t keep up constantly chastising himself internally for flinching every time he passes a tart or a teacup to you during Unbirthday parties. 

He can no longer focus during his study sessions with you as he’s now fighting with himself as he dreams to hold your free hand or to brush a stray lock of hair from your endearing face. 

Was it as difficult to deal with as it was for you? Was this the reason you decided to confess to him? But the thought of speaking to you about something so intimate invokes nerves in him that he couldn’t understand.

No, he should learn from your example. If the natural progression of his feelings should be clear communication between those involved, then he will face this challenge as confidently as he does with any other. 

Prepare yourself, the stubborn Riddle has made a goal for himself. 

“I admit my inexperience has hurt those I cherish. Next time, I will respond to your bravery in kind.” 

[teddy06writes]

Hi! I adore your writing! Could I request Fiyero comforting a reader with a bad fear of thunderstorms. Maybe the reader hides the fact they have this fear until he finds them during one. Feel free to ignore.

Fears, and Comforts For Them

Fiyero Tigelaar x gn!reader

Trigger Warnings:

Summary: Fiyero never found himself questioning why you tended to make yourself scarce whenever a storm appeared on the horizon; that is, until he stumbled upon you during a particularly bad one.

{Thanks so much for requesting! I hope I did it justice!}

When the first rumble of thunder had curled across the sky on his walk back towards the dorms, Fiyero had thought nothing of it. Naturally, a few moments later, when the sky opened up above him, showering him in clear, cold water, it caught him by complete surprise.

He glanced up at the dark, turbulent clouds that suddenly taken over the sky for a long moment, before taking off for the dorms again, at a much faster pace as thunder and lighting began to crash down with more ferocity.

Inside, the main common room was dark, as if no one had been, (or been bothered) to turn on the lights when the storm began. Other than the dim light from outside, the only light in the room came from one of the smaller desk lamps from a corner table.

Fiyero could just make out the shape of you, hunched over the table, as he shucked off his now soaked jacket. He started making his way toward you, letting out a laugh, "Can you believe this weather? I was barely out there for a minute and I'm soaked through!"

You glanced up, barley meeting his eyes, and let out a forced chuckle, "Yea..."

Fiyero frowned, giving you a once over, "Darling- you're trembling... What's wrong?"

"I-" Another peel of thunder burst through the air, and you cut yourself off with a flinch.

Fiyero's face softened, understanding, "Oh darling..."

You buried your face in your hands, mumbling, "It's stupid-"

"It's not stupid," He said, kneeling beside your chair, and gently pulling your hands away from your face, "What can I do to help you, darling?"

Lighting flashed in the window, lighting the room harshly for a brief moment, and suddenly your thoughts were scattered, and you couldn't seem to draw a full breath, "I- I don't-"

"Hey, hey, look at me darling," FIyero reached up to cup your face, "Breathe. C'mon, breathe with me, alright?"

He took a nearly exaggerated, deep breath in, and you copied in him, in and out, for a few long minutes before either of you moved again. His thumb brushed back and forth across your cheek, gently, "How about this: we'll go back up to my room, and I'll get out of these wet things, and then you and I can cuddle up, and ignore this whole thing until it blows over, yeah?"

You swallowed thickly, before nodding, your voice coming out small, nearly drowned out by the next groan of thunder, "Yes, please..."

Fiyero took your hand, and soon enough you found yourself wrapped up in his blankets, head tucked close to his chest, so that you could hear his heartbeat- a steady, comforting rhythm.

One of your hands was all but knotted into the soft fabric of his shirt, fingers clenching with every new roar of thunder. But Fiyero's grip on you was firm and gentle all at once.

"'yero?"

"Yes darling?" His voice was soft as he shifted, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Can you- can you tell me about your day? Or about Vinkus or- or- anything, really?"

He took in a breath, thinking for a moment, before beginning to speak quietly about his childhood. As the storm wore on, he continued, and you listened intently, until you swore you could hardly hear the thunder at all.

~~

Enjoyed this fic? Help me afford textbooks :)

[stargirllanaa]

୨⎯ "Cruel World” - Rafe Cameron

❥ Masterlist

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Noncon smut, toxic relationship, Abusive relationship, Domestic violence, Gun violence, Drinking, ex!rafe, Rafe is actually terrible, psycho ex bf Rafe

Summary: loosely, based on ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, everything goes wrong when you spot your psycho ex bf at a New Year’s Eve party.

A/n ✎: Thank you so much for 100 followers! Ahhhh!!!! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying my work, I recommend listening to the song ofc but you don’t have too. Bold and italics are flashback. Enjoy <333

Wc: just under 3k

18+ MINORS DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

“Does anyone know where I put my eyeliner?” Your friend Nora asked you, as well as your other friend Violet.

You were all getting ready for some New Year's Eve party at Nora's boyfriend's house; everyone would be home from college for winter break, so you were excited to see all the people you went to high school with.

“No, but I know where the vodka is!” Violet chuckled,

“Come on, let's all take a shot!” Violet continued as she made her way over to you.

“Come on, y/n, are you going to pout all night? He might not even be there.” the brunette expressed as she sat beside you, bottle in hand.

She was referring to your ex, Rafe Cameron, and you knew for almost a fact that he would be there. Nora's boyfriend happened to be his best friend, Topper, and you and Rafe hadn't exactly ended on the best terms. The two of you had been broken up for about a month and a half; for the first two weeks, he would not stop texting and calling you, profusely apologizing, saying things like, ‘I'll go to therapy.’ ‘give me another chance.’ ‘I'll be better.’

It got so annoying that you had to block him; obviously, that wouldn't stop him. The thing was, Rafe was fucking crazy; he would always find a way to get to you, and if he didn't, he simply didn't want to.

“He's going to be there.” You said with a sign, “I'm just going to get fucked up, ignore him, and hopefully get some dick tonight.”

“That's the spirit!” Violet said as you tilted your head back, and she poured the vodka down your throat.

“Are you kidding me?” Your boyfriend asked you in a harsh tone as he stalked toward you.

“What?” you respond as you tried to take a wobbly few steps back.

His eyes narrowed at you, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, aside from the clown makeup,” Rafe said, referring to your red lipstick.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don't like that dress?” Rafe interrogated as he roughly grabbed your waist.

“How many fucking times, y/n?” the blonde shook your body roughly. “For you to get it through your thick fucking skull?”

You were silent, frozen almost; whenever Rafe got violent, you didn't know how to react. You didn't fight; you didn't try to run; you stood wide-eyed in shock because if you did respond the wrong way, you knew it would make things 10x worse than they already were.

“Huh?” He asked you, shaking your body roughly again, waiting for you to respond.

“I- I don't know.” You mumbled weakly.

“You don't know,” he mocked with a dry humorless laugh.

“Go and change. Red looks trashy on you.” He stated before letting go of you with a harsh push into the wall.

All your friends knew that Rafe was bad, but they certainly didn't know how bad he was. You were so good at hiding it, concealer, color corrector, foundation, you name it; if it could cover a bruise, you had it. Every story you told them about your fights with Rafe were very watered down, and because of that, no one knew how truly scared you were to run into Rafe at this party. Not in an ‘Oh, no, my ex!’ way more in a ‘he might kill me way.’ But with every shot you took, you felt your fear start to fade slowly, and when you arrived at the party five shots in, in your little red party dress, you felt way more confident than you should have.

Your arm linked with Violet’s as your friend Nora lost the two of you to find her boyfriend. You and Violet stumbled through the house, passing through groups of people, trying your best to find the drink table.

“By the way, I love your dress,” Violet approved, looking you up and down. “Red is your color.”

“Thank you!” you smiled, taking the compliment to heart; she didn't know just how much that meant to you; you hadn't worn red since Rafe had told you it was ‘trashy’ on you.

“Fuck, is the Britney Smith?” Violet giggled, pointing at the short blonde girl.

“Isnt she pregnant?” you wondered as your eyes fell on the drink table.

“Oh my god, look who's right next to the drinks,” Violet says before covering her mouth with her hand.

“Is that Alex?” you replied, squinting your eyes to get a better look.

Violet nodded in response, eyes wide with excitement.

“Go talk to him!” you smiled at her. “I'll sit right over there,” you said, pointing at the elegant velvet couch.

As you sat on the couch, you couldn't stop thinking about Rafe. Your anxiety slowly started to rise, and you regretted every choice you made up to this point. First of all, you and Rafe had ended on horrible terms; second of all, you came to a party that you knew he would most likely be at, and now you are all alone and a little more drunk than you'd like to be.

You couldn't stop thinking back to that day, your breaking point, the last fight you had with Rafe before you ended things for good.

“Why are you following John B on Instagram?” Your boyfriend asked you as he looked up from his phone.

The question confused you a bit; you honestly didn't even know you were following him in the first place.

“I don't know?” you replied with a shrug. “Probably was an accident; maybe Sarah tagged him in something or-”

“Was it an accident when you smiled at him the other day at the wreck?” he cut you off.

Was he serious right now? John B had waved at you, and you simply smiled in return. You were just being nice; it was nothing more than that.

“Rafe, I-” You were going into very dangerous territory, and you knew that, even though Rafe was physically attractive, he was very insecure, which showed a lot in your relationship.

“If it's another bullshit excuse, I don't want to hear it,” he scolded as he stalked towards you.

He wasn't even giving you the chance to defend yourself, and frankly, it was pissing you off even more than his stupid questions.

“Rafe, I don't even know what you're talking about; I literally-” you plead with your boyfriend, taking a step back for every step he took forward.

“Of course you ‘Dont know,’ you never do.” Rafe hissed at you, moving closer and closer.

“That's what you do; you act all fucking innocent and then sneak around behind my back.” the blonde accused.

“Do you think I'm stupid?” He sneered, backing you against the wall.

That was the final straw; now he was accusing you of cheating from a simple smile and an Instagram follow. I mean, how delusional could he be?

“Are you fucking crazy?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed.

You could tell he was shocked at your response by the way his eyebrows arched upwards slightly, but you could also tell you pissed him off by the way his jaw ticked.

“What did you say to me?” He asked; he heard you loud and clear the first time; he just wanted to see if you had the guts to repeat it.

“Are you fucking crazy? I follow him on Instagram. So what? I can unfollow him if it's a problem.” you argued, shocked that this was even an issue.

Rafe's hand shot forward without warning, delivering a sharp slap to your face. Time momentarily slowed as the impact echoed through the room. As the sting of the slap registered, a deep sadness clouded your features. You hated to say it, but you were used to rafe hurting you.

“Who do you think you're talking to?” Rafe asked you. Blue eyes are darker than their everyday shade.

“Huh?” He scoffed, laughing slightly.

“Calling me crazy…talking to me like I'm the one in the wrong?” your boyfriend shouted as he snatched a big chuck of your hair, gripping it tight enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Rafe, I-” you tried to defend yourself as tears clouded your vision.

“No, I'm talking now.” His voice boomed as he screamed in your ear.

Rafe slammed your head against the wall behind you, using your hair as leverage; at this point, your ears were ringing, your head was banging, and you couldn't speak from the pain alone. And Rafe just kept going on and on about how important trust is in a relationship, but how could you even listen when he was gripping your hair so tight? But obviously, Rafe didn't see this as punishment enough because he dragged you by the hair to his closet, and even as he rustled through his sock drawer, clearly looking for something, he didn't once let go of your hair.

“Rafe! Stop-” You were cut off by the feeling of ice gold metal pressed against your temple; you were completely frozen, not knowing what to do; there was no way your boyfriend was pressing a gun against your head over an Instagram follow.

“If you even look at john b again, your fucking dead.” Rafe threatened coldly.

Your heart was racing; Rafe was impulsive knowing him; you could breathe the wrong way, and he would pull the trigger. That didn't stop your breath from fasting and your tears from falling, though.

“You hear me?” he asked, pulling your hair back just enough to make eye contact.

You didn't say anything; you had been sobbing ever since you felt the metal against your head in the first place.

“Do you hear me?” He shook you, demanding an answer, “I will fucking kill you.”

“Yes!” you cried out, hoping and praying for him to put the gun down and let go of you.

And when you left his house that night, you had never returned. Rafe did have his good moments, but was he worth your life? You broke up with him over text the following day, and you hadn't seen him since.

Since today, as soon as you looked up from your lap, lost in thought, you made eye contact with Rafe. You felt sick when you saw him; you knew he would be here, but you weren't expecting to see him this soon.

You stood up, making your way through the separate groups of people; you needed to find somewhere you could be by yourself because right now, you felt like you might have a panic attack.

“Excuse me,” you repeated over and over as you drunkenly stumbled to the stairs. No one was upstairs, other than maybe a few people hooking up, but other than that, it was pretty empty. You looked for a room, apologizing when you opened the door to see Nora and Topper making out. You stumbled through the halls until you found an empty room, sighing in relief as you closed the door behind you.

Your relief was short-lived because you didn't realize that Rafe was following behind you the entire time, and when he entered the room, you instantly regretted isolating yourself from the rest of the party and your friends.

“No.” you panicked, anxiety rising deep within your stomach.

He was intentionally standing in front of the door. There was no way out.

“Hey, Listen, y/n-,” Rafe said calmly, trying to calm you down.

“No! Get away from me!” you interrupted words slurring, not wanting to hear a thing from him.

You had no desire to speak to Rafe, not after all he had put you through in your relationship, not after you had been in therapy for the past month to heal the pain he had caused you. He wasn't just a regular ex, Rafe was fucking crazy, and you both knew it; you knew he was waiting to see you in person again, probably planning it, planning out exactly how he was going to get you back and what he was going to do if you declined his offer.

“Can you just listen to me!?” he snapped at you, slightly losing his calm demeanor. “I just want to talk-” He said through his teeth, walking over to you and away from the door.

“Well, I don't want to talk!” you barely even knew what you were saying; your head was spinning, and you regretted every shot you had taken earlier.

“So that's how it's gonna be, huh?” Rafe mumbled to himself more than you, fist clenching as he spoke.

As he got closer and closer, the room seemed easier and easier to escape; you knew you couldn't scream for help because of the loud music banging throughout the house; no one would hear you, and you knew you couldn't put up the best fight because you were drunk and Rafe’s also way stronger than you, he had proved this time and time again.

So you took the opportunity to run for the door while you still could. But two steps in, Rafe had already caught you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against his stiff chest.

“I didn't want to make this complicated.” he hissed into your ear. “But come on, y/n, it's almost like you want me to hurt you.”

You thrashed your body, wiggling side to side, trying to escape his grip.

“You’re fucking crazy!” You shouted as you continued to attempt to free yourself.

“Yes! I'm crazy,” Your ex admitted as his grip around you tightened, and his nostrils flared. “I'm crazy for you.” he dug his nails into your side.

“Get off of me!” you cried out, voice raw with emotion.

“You come to my best friend's party wearing the fucking dress I hate! Knowing I'm going to be here!” he criticized, pushing your body towards the bed. “It's almost like you want me to take it off.”

“Rafe, stop, I-” you were cut off by Rafe throwing you on the bed and wrapping his hands around your throat as he hovered over you.

“Shut the fuck up!” He sneered, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“You fucking left me!” His grip got tighter the more he spoke. “Not even a call, but a fucking text.” he scolded. “Do I really mean that little to you?”

You didn't end things the way you did because you didn't care about Rafe; you cared about Rafe so much, more than you ever wanted to, and that hurt; throughout everything he's done to you, all the pain he's caused you, you still cared. You broke up with Rafe over text because you were terrified; he had threatened to kill you over an Instagram follow; you couldn't imagine what he would have done if you dared to break up with him in person.

But you couldn't say any of that because he was choking you so hard that you couldn't breathe, let alone speak; all you could do was hit his hands repeatedly, hoping he would let go.

“You didn't care about my feelings. Why should I care about yours?” He asked you, looking deeply into your bloodshot, teary eyes with his blue angry ones.

Your mind was racing; Rafe was actually going to kill you. You saw this day coming many times throughout your relationship, but you didn't expect it to happen when you guys were finished. You had shared your body, your mind, everything with him, and you had been happy it was over; you finally were starting to feel like yourself again. But now he was going to take that all away from you.

Rafe finally let go when he started to see your eyes roll back as you started to lose consciousness.

You gasped for air in between coughs as you held your throat, desperate to soothe it from the pain he caused with his harsh grip. You had accepted death. You knew exactly who you were dealing with, and the thought of him killing you over a breakup wasn't too far-fetched.

“You have a lot of making-up to do after the stunt you pulled last month,” Rafe sighed as if he was inconvenienced by what he was doing to you.

The stunt you pulled? Your break up was serious, and for a good reason; he was lucky you hadn't called the police; if anyone had pulled a ‘stunt,’ it was him. He had pulled a series of stunts throughout your whole relationship. He was pulling one now.

Before you knew it, Rafe was tugging at your dress, attempting to pull it off you. If there was one thing you weren't doing, it was going down without a fight. You tried your best to kick him and scratch him, everything, but you were drunk, had just been choked, and Rafe was much stronger than you, so he pinned your wrist above your head with one hand and pulled the bottom of your dress up with the other.

“Remember this, y/n,” He said as he positioned himself up against your cunt. “Remember this feeling the next time you think about trying to leave.” He taunted before pushing into you roughly.

As he thrusted into you repeatedly at a rough and harsh pace, you sobbed. You thought Rafe was behind you; you told yourself you would never let a man hurt you the way he did again. You were so happy when he was gone.

“Fuck, take this off,” Rafe moaned as he pulled your dress over your head.

With every hash thrust, your cries got louder. Rafe didn't care about your pleasure or even his; he wanted to hurt you; he wanted to see your tear-stained face. This was your punishment, and he was succeeding. The only thing you felt between your legs was severe pain.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” you heard everyone downstairs scream in unison.

“Happy New Year,” Rafe smirked as he pulled you in for a rough, sloppy kiss.

Rafe was fucking crazy.

[theoncomingchaos]

Who loves Rook: Spite or Lucanis

I've been seeing a lot of discourse about this, and I just want to add my thoughts.

I might be totally wrong about this, but here we go. When Spite was put into Lucanis, he was still Determination. The fact that he changed throughout the torture, forced insertion, and imprisonment suggests to me that they have been put into a speedrun of a similar situation to Anders and Justice/Vengeance where they have started to meld. (As Anders put it, you wouldn't know where one begins and the other ends). Just like Anders and Vengeance, Lucanis and Spite can have separate consciousnesses and even disagree about things, but their core values have started to influence one another and become a part of one another- heightening certain aspects.

I think this melding is why we see some dialogues where Rook tells Lucanis that he sounds like Spite and similarly it's also the reason for the shared attraction- which I fully believe is coming originally from Lucanis.

I'll be honest my first time through I romanced Lucanis and was very disappointed. I didn't even see him and Neve ever flirt (she only ever encouraged us!) But still, it seemed to go from 0 to 60 with him. Now, I am on my second playthrough and I only just met him, but I am starting to see some really subtle looks and dialogues that suggest that Lucanis wasn't lying later when he said he was attracted to Rook from the beginning, but was afraid to really pursue anything or even acknowledge the possibility of being with them. With his fear of trusting people, ptsd from the prison, failed history in romance, and his new situation with Spite that he still hadn't worked out yet, he never thought anything would or could ever come of his feelings. We know Lucanis loves romance stories and likely longs for one of his own, but in such a situation it must have seemed truly impossible and terrifying to let someone else in. Especially someone you really care for and are starting to trust. So, he pushed it all down. Rook flirts? Maybe a small smile, but then quickly lock it all up with everything else he can't handle. Focus on work. Don't think about Spite, or Rook, or anything difficult.

However, if the melding has already happened as I suspect, then the feelings Spite is expressing are shared with (and likely sourced from) Lucanis, he's just better at expressing it directly- which makes sense for a spirit that was once Determination. When you first talk to Lucanis after the rescue, the thing Spite says about Rook changes accordingly to your tone, but to me the responses still sound like they come from Lucanis and are then echoed in Spite: "He doesn't want to hurt us." Even the "He's more fun than you" is something Lucanis seems to think about himself as he is fully aware that much of his life has not been his own and believes "all he knows is death."

Leading back to the main point, Lucanis's trust and interest in Rook would be heightened by Spite the way Anders' anger towards the templars was heightened. Even though they are finally free from the prison, their is a sense of constant suffering from still feeling trapped by fear, regret, and pain- Spite feels that suffering too. The elements of determination are still within him the same way justice is another side to vengeance. Both spite and vengeance are the results of failing to achieve their goals of Justice and Determination. Spite sees Rook as a way to free them from pain and restraint, a glowing and beautiful key to the prison door, and he is determined to do what needs to be done to solve the problem. That's why he doesn't hesitate. He has no fear. He wants to talk to Rook. He wants Rook to come in and free them.

After Rook has freed them, they become a source of comfort and safety, once they encourage Lucanis and Spite to find a way to cohabit comfortably, the two continue to meld, and the need to protect Rook, to love Rook, to keep them, is very deeply shared. Now, IF Spite was somehow removed or even somehow restored (Both of which I think are impossible) that would likely change. Determination outside of Lucanis would likely become more like Compassion. He would likely forget the horrors he experienced to return to his original purpose.

So, that leaves some final questions, particularly one Hawke helpfully asked Anders- Is Spite an unwilling party in the threesome?

That's up to everyone's own morality. While both Spite and Lucanis didn't have a choice to become like this, it is the situation they are in and the way they have to find a way to accept and live with because there really doesn't seem to be any real way to change it. Through their time together, Lucanis and Spite have influenced each other and grown into something new. Part of that is Spite also loving Rook. In that way, for those who are feeling (rightfully) underwhelmed by Lucanis's romance, Spite can almost be seen as a symbolic expression of Lucanis's love.

All that being said, I think there were some small things they could have done to make the romance more satisfying over all...but I'll save that for another post.

[leighsartworks216]

hi :) if you are feeling it, for the showing comfort prompts, would you be up for writing one the below ones for zayne? ♡♡

soothing them back to sleep after a nightmare

holding them tightly, protectively

Just A Bad Dream

Zayne x gn!Reader

Thank you so much for sending these in!! This was so fun to write honestly <333

Prompts from this list

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, nightmares, cuddling, literal sleeping together, forehead kisses

Word Count: 611

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Zayne startles awake. His whole body is tense, eyes wide open to stare at the ceiling. His heartbeat pounds heavy in his ears. His lungs don't seem to work for a while, long enough he feels like he's suffocating.

"...ne? Honey...?" A hand rubs his chest. He jumps, attention snapping to the source. You frown at him, eyes still squinted with sleep and pillow lines on your face. "What happened? What's wrong?"

You're patient. He's grateful for it. He stares at you for too long, but you don't say anything. You just keep rubbing soothing circles into his chest, over his racing heart. It takes a moment for him to fully believe you're here, that you're real. He half-expects black crystals to take over your body.

He shakes his head to dislodge the thought and turns his head away. He grabs your hand to hold it. "Just a nightmare," he murmurs. "I'm sorry I woke you."

You scoot closer to rest your cheek on his arm. "Hey, don't apologize. It's okay."

Zayne's nightmares aren't anything new. You've caught him sleeping many times with a frown and eyes flickering rapidly under his eyelids. He never talks about them. No matter how curious you are to know, you don't push. You can't bear the pained look that crosses his face when you do.

You pull away. He's torn from his daze to watch, some hint of that fear that you'll disappear lingering enough to strike through his heart like an icicle. You smile reassuringly at him as you settle into your pillow and open up your arms. "Come here."

He blinks dumbly at you. "What?"

"Come here. I'll protect you from your nightmares."

"That's-"

You put a finger over his lips, silencing his argument. "You need your sleep for tomorrow. I'll keep your nightmares away so you can get plenty of rest before you have to get up and get ready."

He huffs a soft laugh, composed of both disbelief and amusement. But you aren't going to back down from this, so what choice does he have?

He moves across the bed to fit into your arms. His arms wrap around your midsection to hold you close. You tangle your legs with his and hug him around his shoulders. His head finds a safe home on your chest. He can hear your heartbeat clearly. It beats strongly, with no strong signs of faltering.

You comb your fingers through his hair. It's slightly messy from where he moved around in his sleep, and damp by his forehead and neck from a cold sweat. Your nails scratch gently at his scalp. "Comfy?"

He nuzzles further into your chest. "Mhm..."

"Good. Now I can effectively protect you." You push back his bangs and press your lips to his forehead. "You hear that, you evil things? This brain is protected, so you better leave him alone!"

He laughs. It's so stupid, so silly, but it's exactly what he needs for the last remaining tension in his body to dissipate. "I think they heard you, my love." He leaves a kiss over your heart. "Thank you."

You kiss him again. "No need to thank me, just get some sleep now."

Zayne stays awake a while longer. Just listening. Soaking in your effortless comfort. Slowly, your hands stop playing with his hair. Your breaths even out, turning into soft snores that rumble in your chest. Your heart continues to beat on, with no end in sight.

For once, he doesn't dream of a world where you don't exist, where he's a serial killer, and where he's all alone. It's the best sleep he’s had in a long, long time.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt 2.1

Note: The writing bug bit me while wading through the comments and replies so you guys get more! 😁 Special thanks to @the-scarecrow-of-aus & @starlightcat04 for helping spark this continuation!

Also, so you're not confused, this part is from Kon's POV and backtracks to before the Bane incident to explain how Kon started going undercover in Arkham. Pt 2.2 has the Bane incident from Kon's POV.

~*~*~

When Kon got the call from Tim asking if he'd be willing to do a favor for him, he hadn't expected it to be an undercover assignment in the infamous Arkham Asylum itself.

"You want me to do what?" He asked staring at Tim in disbelief once he reached the Nest to debrief.

"Go undercover as a new guard in Arkham." Tim repeated with a deadpan expression looking over his shoulder at Kon from his computer chair. Holy fuck, his eyebags were bad. 

"Have you slept in the past week, Tim?" Kon asked, taking in his best friend's appearance.

Tim frowned at the question. 

"I don't see how that's relevant but yes." He answered, heartbeat unchanging. Which didn't really mean anything since it was Tim but Kon decided he'd believe him. 

For now. 

Kon sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, I'll do it." He said. "Can you tell me why we need someone undercover at least?" 

Tim eyes widened, startled by the question like he was surprised Kon didn't know yet even though Tim hadn't told him yet. Okay, deep breaths, calm down, Tim clearly hasn't slept in at least two days. Kon coached himself as his temper flared up at the evidence that Tim wasn't taking care of himself again. All the Supers agreed: sometimes you just wish you could beat some sense into the Bats and make them take care of themselves like normal human beings.

"Ah. Right." Tim said, turning back to the computer and pulling up some files as he explained. "Two thing have occured within roughly fifteen days of each other that together are rather suspicious. First, Dr. Thomas Rylie, Jonathan Crane's undergraduate roommate and classmate throughout undergrad and grad school, was hired to work as one of the new in house psychiatrists at Arkham Asylum. They also got their doctorates from the same school during the same time frame and both focused on the impact fear has on the brain. Dr. Rylie's focus was on fear conditioning and Dr. Crane's focus was on fear responses." Well, that sounds suspicious. 

"Second, Gotham University lost their minds and began an undergraduate and graduate internship program partnering with Arkham Asylum." 

Kon went cold. They did what?

Pictures of the Asylum, University, and three people -presumably Scarecrow, Dr. Rylie, and a young woman- filled the computer screen now. 

"The internship program has only one applicant so far and she'd already started working at the Arkham. Her name is Jasmine Fenton and her background is...sparse, to say the least." Tim turned in his chair to face Kon.

"I'm too recognizable in Gotham and among the rogues to successfully go undercover in Arkham so I've set you up with an apartment and ID as 'Kyle Jennings.' You're scheduled to start work at Arkham as a new guard tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Kon said with a nod. "What do you need confirmed? What are the primary objectives?" He prodded Tim again since his friend's sleep deprived brain seemed to think that was enough information for debriefing. It wasn't. Definitely not. A lot was implied but it wouldn't be the first time Tim had completely different intentions than what Kon had understood from his briefing. Sleep deprived Tim frequently assumed others could read his mind or something. Sleep deprived Tim was wrong.

"We need to determine if Dr. Rylie is here working for Scarecrow as part of some new scheme. We need to determine if Jasmine Fenton is complicit. We need to know if Gotham U is also in on it. And we need to find out what exactly Scarecrow is the planning." Tim stated automatically as he ticked each one off on his fingers.

"Got it. Guess I'll head over to my new apartment then and start prepping for tomorrow." Kon said, heading towards the exit. Tim hummed in agreement waving a hand in his direction as he left. That dumbass was probably already absorbed in the next case. Kon sighed, hopefully Tim would at least pass out sometime later tonight.

~*~*~

Kon's first day at Arkham wasn't anything special. He didn't see Jasmine, Dr. Rylie, or Scarecrow. He didn't see any rogues or doctors at all. It was just a really Gotham kind of orientation. 

"This is where we keep a cache of stun grenades, long-range scope rifles, tranquilizer rounds, and rubber bullets." His new supervisor and guide through orientation, Alex Fhizer, said as he showed Kon how to access, inventory, lock, and re-conceal the cache. "Everytime you pass by a cache on patrol, you will check the inventory again and sign off on it with the date and time. If anything is different from the previous inventory entry, you will immediately radio the tower and the island will be put on lockdown." Greyish Hazel eyes peered out of a weathered face staring Kon down. "You will never neglect to inventory a cache while on patrol. You will never neglect to report an inventory discrepancy. The first time you do you will be fired immediately and you can count yourself damn lucky if that's all that happens to you." 

Fhizer was intense, man.

"Yes, Sir." Kon answered. Fhizer's hard look lasted another long moment before the older man gave a firm nod and continued showing Kon the ropes.

~*~*~

The second day was no where near as chill as the first. Hell, his brain was already starting to warp, there hadn't been anything chill about that orientation.

Kon started his second day by boarding the Arkham transport bus with the rest of the staff and early morning visitors to the island. That was where he saw Jasmine Fenton in the flesh for the first time. 

She has got to be part Amazonian, was his first thought upon seeing her. She was around 6ft tall with a thick mane of red hair tightly braided reaching all the way down to her waist. Jasmine was wearing teal stud earrings, a silver bangle type bracelet on her left wrist, a white blouse, black slacks, and black flats. She carried a small, clear purse that only held a small notepad, pen, house key, chapstick, and a thin teal wallet that presumably contained her IDs, debit cards, and a small amount of cash. Damn, she was tall.

Kon's concentration was broken by the quiet sound of metal crunching slightly beneath his fingers. He immediately loosened his grip on the hand rail, checking for damage with a wince. He breathed a soft sigh of relief when he saw the damage was almost entirely unnoticeable to the naked eye. He'd have to mind his strength more closely. Kon was too used to the farm and facilities that were all reinforced to handle casual use from people with super strength. 

Tim's notes indicated Arkham wasn't reinforced for super strength anywhere. Not even along the outer walls. The facility had opted to use suppression collars on their meta inmates instead since they were cheaper and easier to repair and replace according to the official reports. However, Tim's notes had also mentioned that Arkham had reinforced the outer walls to account for super strength at one point. They'd poured nearly every dime the facility could spare into the project for months until the Joker himself had taken it personally. The madman had absolutely obliterated the reinforced outer walls until no part of them remained standing. Given Joker had destroyed the walls without having any meta powers at all and his history of viciously attacking -damn near mauling- anyone that tried to put him in a straight jacket, Kon didn't really blame Arkham for stopping while they were ahead.

Kon looked up as the bus jolted to a stop. The other passengers filing off around him. He watched as Jasmine Fenton was met by Dr. Rylie in front of the bus as he waited to disembark. 

"Ms. Jasmine!" Dr. Rylie greeted her enthusiastically with a broad open grin and beaming eyes. He reached towards her with both arms, hands open and she reached back. Their right hands clasped as their left hands landed on the other's upper arms as the two greeted one another openly. Kon wasn't very familiar with intern-mentor relationships nor what would be considered normal or professional for them, but it looked like a rather affectionate greeting for them having been strangers two weeks ago. That was strange, wasn't it? Was Tim right to be worried about them?

"Ms. Jasmine is the first and only applicant for Dr. Rylie, Director Keener, and Dean Byle's hairbrained idea to hire more doctors for this place." One of the older guards that had been standing just behind him on the bus explained having apparently noticed Kon watching the pair.

"They just seemed rather affectionate for Gotham." Kon shrugged dismissively as he turned to look over his shoulder at his new colleague. The shorter man laughed.

"A bit, yeah." He agreed. "I think Dr. Rylie is just desperate for this program to work out." He continued as they finally managed to get off the bus. Dr. Rylie and Ms. Fenton were gone now. "Pretty much everyone's been treating her like a princess." 

"That doesn't seem fair to everyone else." Kon commented, dropping back a bit to let the older man lead the way to the guards room for morning debriefing and to get their assignments. He'd already memorized the layouts but 'Kyle Jennings' shouldn't have yet.

"Who cares about fair as long as it works?" The guard answered. "If treating her like a princess scores more interns for the program in the long run, and if one intern every year ends up interested in sticking around, I'll be happy to cater to every single one of them." He confessed, stopping in the middle of the hall to turn and face Kon directly. Kon glimpsed the name Ryans as the silver name badge flashed the briefly reflecting the overhead lights. "You non-gothamites just don't get it. We're desperate for whatever help we can get." 

"That's why I applied here." Kon lied. "Going to school across the bay, I heard a lot about what went down over here while I was in college. I want to help." 

Ryans gave a short solemn nod then turned and led the rest of the way to the break room. 

~*~*~

Day four undercover was when Kon officially met Jasmine Fenton. 

Everything had been going well so far with his undercover assignment. He'd settled in to the role of Kyle Jennings, been getting along well with his new coworkers including Ryans and Fhizer, and hadn't yet managed to screw up inventorying the caches during the outer patrol loops. That being said, Kon was having other issues.

The worst part of being an unstable Kryptonian clone was that his strength tended to fluctuate. It normally wasn't much of an issue when he was surrounded by reinforced everything in his daily life but here at Arkham it was becoming a problem. Case in point, Kon thought to himself with an exhausted groan as his freshly made coffee mug shattered in his hand.

"Oh come on." He sighed snatching a handful of paper towels from the counter and bending to wipe up the coffee and ceramic shards on the floor. At least he was the only one in the room when it shattered. The door clicked softly behind him and Kon jumped twisting to look. 

Jasmine Fenton stood behind him having just closed the door to the break room after entering.

"What happened here?" She asked, sounding bewildered with slightly wide eyes as she took in the mess on the floor. Thank God. She didn't see it.

"Guess I was a bit more tired than I thought." He said with a forced laugh in order to hide his nerves. "Slipped right through my fingers."

She nodded, accepting his words at face value. 

"I've done that more than a few times close to finals." She admitted. "You guys have 10 hour shifts, right? You must be exhausted. When's your next day off?"

"The day after tomorrow." Kon said. "This is day 3 for me since orientation doesn't count."

"You get 2 days off followed by an on-call day, right?" She asked.

"Right," Kon agreed. "AKA 2 days of freedom and a day chained to the Bowery." He joked.

"Absolutely terrible, they may as well put an ankle monitor on you." She cracked back grinning. Kon snickered. The door opened again.

"I see you found another non-gothamite here." Dr. Rylie said striding into the break room with a wide grin.

"Sounds like that makes three of us." Kon agreed. Outside of Joker, he had never seen a gothamite grin that wide in his life.

"Dr. Thomas Rylie, a pleasure to meet you." Dr. Rylie introduced himself holding out his hand to shake. Kon shook his hand as gently as possible, mindful his strength was on the fritz.

"Kyle Jennings, nice to meet you. I just started as a guard earlier this week." He said then held his hand out to shake Jasmine's.

"Jasmine Fenton, I'm an intern therapist. This is my second week here." She greeted with a warm smile shaking Kon's hand. She didn't say anything about being glad to meet him, Kon noted. It wasn't exactly strange behavior but something made him take note of it anyway. Like by not saying it she was saying she hadn't decided whether meeting him was a good or bad thing yet. Dr. Rylie didn't seem to notice anything off with the interaction though as he went about making his own coffee. The three of them made idle small talk as they made their own coffees. Once his new cup was ready, Kon bid them both goodbye and went on his way. While they were his main objective, lingering too long this early into their aquantiantship would probably be strange.

He had several other small friendly interactions with both of them over the next few days. Taking the time for greetings, small talk, and sharing small bits of casual background info from Kyle Jennings's past to encourage them both to open up to him. He also broke a clipboard, two more coffee cups, several pens, and a doorknob during that time as his strength continued to fluctuate. The doorknob had been particularly embarrassing. He had gone to open the door for Jasmine when he saw her with her arms full of files and somehow managed to twist it in such a way that the screws holding it in place sheered off and the knob came off in his hand. Collins, his partner for building patrol that day, burst out laughing hysterically as Kon stared at the doorknob in horror.

"No worries, man." Collins said, clapping Kon on the shoulder still snickering. "Someone else probably broke it and put it back so they wouldn't get scolded or something."

"Yeah," Kon said with a nervous laugh. "That must be what happened."

Jasmine's eyes flicked between the two of them then she grinned.

"And here I thought you just really hated that door." She teased Kon. He felt his face heat up as Collins laughed at him again.

"It is an ugly door." Collins agreed enthusiastically smirking.

"Terribly ugly. Hideous even," Jasmine said with a smile.

"Possibly even traumatizing to behold," Collins continued to smirk.

"You've got me. I have a deep rooted traumatic fear of metal taupe doors." Kon deadpanned ears burning. Jasmine snickered as Kon got the door open for her and they went their separate ways.

~*~*~

"What have you found so far?" Tim asked. Kon did not have the words to express how much he didn't want to be at the Nest at 3am on his first day off from undercover work. If it was anyone other than Tim he wouldn't have even answered the phone.

"Literally nothing," Kon said dryly. "I am still the newest of newbies at Arkham. I practically spent the whole week being babysat by senior guardsmen." He sighed, reminding himself that it wasn't Tim's fault that he was a little insomniac goblin and that Kon really did love his friend and would be sad if he hurt Tim's feelings. Eventually. When he woke up again in the morning. "I did start befriending them both though. It's slow going since we're in different areas but nearly being the only non-gothamites there seems to be helping me make some headway at least." 

There was one other non-gothamite on staff, a medical nurse named Sharon Earley. She was in her mid-thirties and the most sour and unpleasant person Kon had had the displeasure of meeting so far on Arkham's staff. Not that Kon could blame her for that. Not when she had several large ragged scars spanning from her chin and down both of her arms from when Zsazz had gotten hold of her alone after dark her second year at Arkham. It was a damn miracle she'd survived him. Kon didn't know how she managed it but he wouldn't try to find out either. Ryans had taken him aside right before he first met Nurse Earley and warned him not to stare or ask about any of it and then explained the bare basics of what happened to her after they'd left. 

Tim probably had a file with every detail of that night as well as information about Sharon Earley's life both before and after that night somewhere on his computer. The thought made Kon nauseous. 

"Good, good," Tim said absently as he updated the mission file on his computer. The keys clicked so rapidly that Kon again reconsidered whether or not his best friend had super speed. "Better to keep them from suspecting than to rush in anyway." 

"Exactly." 

Tim continued asking questions about every little detail he could think of concerning Dr. Rylie, Jasmine Fenton, and the rogues currently in Arkham.

"They don't let me near those guys yet. I'm too new." Kon said when Tim asked if Scarecrow looked to be plotting more than usual.

"They don't?" Tim sounded surprised, going so far as to stop typing so he could turn and stare at Kon. The clone was amused to note something about his statement had managed to wake Tim up enough to be visibly shocked instead blank-faced with exhaustion.

"Of course not," Kon answered trying to keep the amusement from his voice as much as possible. "As many times as your rogues have broken out they're leary of letting new hires near them in case they're goons in disguise." 

Tim sank back into his chair looking like Kon had uprooted his whole world by proving the Earth really was flat via actual science.

"That's impossible." Tim said sounding faint. "Everytime there's a mass breakout, we always hear that some of the guards helped them escape. How?..." He trailed off, eyes darting rapidly like he was tracking lines of an invisible conspiracy board in the air in front of him. Kon shrugged, uncomfortable with this new information.

"Scuttlebutt is that the people helping them escape are visitors. The guards get blamed because the goons visit wearing clothes similar to the guard uniform from a distance. All blue polo shirts and black pants look similar at a distance." Kon explained. "It also doesn't help that the guards can't really do much to stop the escape attempts since they only have stun grenades, tranquilizer darts, batons, low voltage tazers, and rubber bullets to fight back with. So as long as enough people are involved in the escape attempt at least some of them will make it out even if the guards manage to to tranquilize several of them." 

Tim still looked like Kon was blowing his mind. It was such a rare experience that Kon had to continue.

"Plus the tranquilizer darts and the rubber bullets have to be fired from different hardware." Kon told him. "Which sucks because you have to carry twice the amount of weight while chasing after the escapees which slows you down and it takes longer to swap between them."

There was something similar to mystified horror spreading across his friend's face now.

"Speaking if swapping between them, they have different ranges too." Kon continued gleefully. Half because it was fun wrecking Tim's worldview and half to actually impart the information. "Batons are short-range. Tranquilializer darts and stun grenades are mid-range. Rubber bullet riffles are long-range."

"If that's all it is, WE can fund then better gear to control the inmates." Tim interrupted turning back to the computer and swiftly typing out a list of things to send Arkham. Kon shook his head.

"That won't work." He disagreed gently. "They aren't failing because of the gear itself."

Tim turned back around to face him, confused. This was not going to be a fun conversation, Kon swallowed hard and forced himself to continue.

"The problem is that if you fire the rubber bullet riffles from mid or short range you could seriously injury or even kill the patient. If they get past mid-range, you'll miss them completely using tranquilizer darts or stun grenades. If you try to use either of those at short-range it'll be bad for you whether it's because they'll get hold of you before the tranquilizer knocks them out or because you'll stun yourself too."

Comprehension and trepidation began to dawn on Tim's face. He deflated in his chair, sinking lower and lower as he stared off into nowhere.

"You also can't hit them with more than one tranquilizer dart in a four hour window because you could accidently kill them that way. That also means even though you have a baton, you typically can't do enough damage to them to keept them from escaping because that might potentially kill them." Kon said completely solemn now as he relayed the information. "Because regardless of the reputation Arkham has or what the patients have done, it is still a hospital and they are still patients." 

Tim was staring directly at Kon now. Mouth open, face slack, eyes wide with a kind of numbed shock. Kon held his gaze.

"Yeah," Kon said after a moment. "Yeah, that's how I reacted too." He looked down, picking at his nails for a moment before forcing himself to stop and meet Tim's gaze again. "Phizer, my new 'boss', made sure to drill that into my head during orientation. 'Arkham's guards exist first and foremost to protect the patients. Arkham isn't supposed to be a prison. It's a medical facility. The patients are confined to the premises because their affliction has made them dangerous and they have to stay so that we can keep them and others safe from further harm. We are here to keep the patients and staff from hurting each other, themselves, or being hurt by people outside of Arkham's walls.' Not gonna lie, man." Kon said quirking a bitter grin as his did. "Hearing that kind of fucked me up a bit."

Tim sucked in a huge heaving breath then slowly let it out before he responded.

"I can't say I ever thought about it like that." He admitted in a soft strained voice. "Can't say I ever wanted to either." There was a bitter tinge to his words.

"Yeah, neither did I." Kon answered, shoulders slumping a bit. "Was there anything else you wanted to ask me? I kind of want to head back and sleep a bit."

Tim shook his head slowly.

"No, I think we're good at the moment." He said looking twice as exhausted and drained now as he did when Kon first got there. Kon nodded.

"Good night then. I'll see you later, man." He said, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning against and heading for the door.

"Be safe, Kon." Tim answered softly turning back to his computer.

[dearestro]

Heyyy love your work could I request maybe a james wilson x reader where they're trying to have children but she miscarries and like maybe their keeping it a secret but of course house finds out and is all supportive and them maybe like a happy ending where they do have a child

Tears and Fears

Warnings: Miscarriages, childbirth, innuendos, crude language, and angst. I apologize if I forgot anything!

Disclaimer: I know nothing about healthcare, diseases, childbirth, miscarriages, etc. Anything I have written has been found on the internet, so I apologize if it is incorrect!

Summary: After receiving some upsetting news, the reader and James are faced with a heartbreaking situation. But at least they have each other and just maybe...House?

Wilson's Pov

"Yeah...yeah. It's alright hun...I'll talk to Cuddy and see if I can get the rest of the day off...No, I'm coming to meet you...I-I love you..." I was still talking to my wife when House came in. "I'll see you soon. Bye." I hung up and dragged my hand down my face as I sighed in frustration, desperately trying not to break down. Not again.

"What's wrong? I haven't even started talking, and you already look like you want to kill yourself." House said as he walked over to my couch. 

"Nothing." I said a little too defensively. He quirked a brow at my seemingly unwarranted anger. "Look, I've got to talk to Cuddy so I can get someone to cover me, and I can take the rest of the day off. I'll see you tomorrow." I got up and started packing my things and headed for the door before turning around and looking at House. "Lock up for me." I said before leaving. After all, with all the pranks he's pulled on me throughout the years, there's no doubt in my mind that he already has a copy of my key.

I made my way to Cuddy's office. She was doing paperwork but looked up at me and smiled when I entered. 

"Dr. Wilson. To what do I owe the pleasure?" She said before a look of distaste came over her face. "Please tell me you are not here to try and convince me to follow through with one of House's harebrained schemes." I tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

"Actually, I need the rest of the day off." Her eyebrows furrowed. "It's a...family...emergency." I tried to cover up the fact I started to choke up at the word 'family' by coughing and averting my eyes. She smiled sympathetically. 

"Of course. I'll get someone to cover for you." She nodded as I started to the door. "And Wilson. I'm really sorry." I nodded and hurried to the car.

After a long and grim car ride, I finally arrived at the hospital. 

"I'm looking for my wife? Mrs. y/n Wilson." The receptionist quickly directed me to her room. It took everything in me not to run when I saw the doors to her room. Upon getting closer, I picked up my pace and rushed into the room. She jumped at the sudden movement before looking at me. Tears streamed down her face, but once I met her eyes, we both fully broke down. I quickly knelt beside her and took her in my arms. "I'm so sorry, baby." I shook my head as she pushed hers into the crook of my neck.

"I was so close!" She cried as my heart wrenched at her words. 

"I know...I know sweetheart." I whispered as I stroked her hair.

"One more week! One...more...week...and the risk would've lowered to 2-4%." She shook her head, her face still buried in my chest. "It's not fair! I thought I did everything right..."

"It's not...it's not. You did do everything right it's not your fault. It's-it's just...bad luck." I could feel her tears seep into my shirt as my own fell into her hair.

Eventually, the hospital discharged her, not before offering their condolences. I asked her if she wanted me to pick her something up on the way home, but she just shook her head and continued to stare out the window. Clearly, we both had lost our appetite for today.

Once we got home, we sat for a second before I went over to her side of the car. We made our way into the apartment, and I sat her down on the couch. I sat down next to her, and she leaned on my shoulder as I held her.

"We-we can always try again." I rubbed her arm and kissed her hair, but she shook her head.

"What's the point?" She said she sounded defeated. "It's the second one in a year...maybe-maybe I wasn’t...meant to be a mother." Her voice wavered as she held back her tears. "Maybe it's for the best. I probably would've made a terrible mom anyway." She laughed bitterly. 

"No! No. You'd be the perfect mother! You're sweet, kind, caring, nurturing..." I tried to comfort her as we both cried. "We don't have to give up. I'm-I'm willing to try as many times as possible. All the time. I'll take off work, and we'll just-just make babies all week."

"Are you sure you could handle that?" She shook her head as she laughed.

"Well...maybe give me a few minutes between tries, but..." She laughed harder, her tears temporarily stopped. I smiled hearing her giggle even if it was at my expense.

"I really thought it'd work this time..." She smiled sadly as the brief happiness wore off. "After two miscarriages...the doctor said that your chances just keep getting worse and worse with each loss." 

"I know...but we can try all kinds of things. IVF, donors, adoption..." I tried to cheer her up, give her a little hope as I kissed her temple. 

"Yeah...I just...I really wanted to carry our baby. To feel them grow and kick and..." Tears started to stream down her face again. I sighed and rested my forehead against her hair.

"I'm sorry sweetheart."

The next day, I begrudgingly went to work. Y/n insisted that she'd be ok. I tried to stay in my office for the majority of the day but was called in and out for consultations.

I finally had a free moment in my office and went to call her when House barged in.

"Good, you're here. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought you were avoiding me." I rolled my eyes and tried to focus on dialing our home phone. It finally started to dial, but just as it began to ring, House hung up the receiver with his cane.

"House!" I shouted a little too angrily.

"Wilson!" He mocked. I sighed. "What is up with you? Trouble with the Mrs?" I ignored him in favor of looking over discarded paperwork. "So it is...what fourth ex Mrs. Wilson? That's too bad. This one wasn't totally awful." He continued to ramble on. "Did you cheat on her? She cheat on you? Stop 'meeting your manly needs'?"

"Stop!" I shouted, slamming down the files, finally having enough of his taunting. "For once in your life, can you just shut up? I'm tired and I'm frustrated! And don't even ask if I mean frustrated as in sexually frustrated!" He only stared as I broke down. I rested my head on the palms of my hands as I tried to calm down. By the time I looked back up, he was gone. "Jerk." I shook my head as I redialed my wife's cell.

House's Pov

At the sight of Wilson's pathetic breakdown, I left. Something's obviously wrong. However, he'd never admit it...at least not without being all emotional and crap. I rolled my eyes just thinking about it. 

I finally made it to Cuddy's office. I walked in on what looked like a meeting with the head of trauma. 

"Cuddy!" She rolled her eyes while apologizing to the doctor before she turned to me.

"House, I'm a little busy." 

"I'll take care of this." I walked in front of the doctor. "Thanks for your sub-par service. You're fired. Bye." I turned back to Cuddy. "See? You're not busy." She scoffed before dismissing him, apparently deciding she didn't want to fight.

"Ok then, House." She folded her hands in front of her before giving me an over exaggerated and forced smile. "How can I help you?"

"Glad you're so willing." She rolled her eyes as I ignored her blatant sarcasm. "Something's wrong with Wilson." Her face dropped for a second before she quickly fixed her facade.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe you should ask him." She said as she quickly busied herself with files.

"Liar!" I whacked my cane on her desk, making her jump. "Tell me."

"It's not my business to tell, and frankly, it's none of yours either." I scoffed before heading towards the door.

"I'm taking the rest of the day off!" I said and quickly walked away before she could stop me.

Your Pov 

I had been curled up on the couch the entire day, eating comfort food and watching reruns. I had been intermittently crying throughout the day and just got off the phone with James. Even at work, he insisted on checking in on me. I got up to throw out the empty carton of ice cream when the doorbell rang.

"Coming!" I discarded the trash and quickly tried to freshen myself up by raking my fingers through my hair and swiping at the tear stains. I opened the door to be faced with the one and only..."House?" He pushed past me and let himself in. I closed the door behind him and followed. "Shouldn't you be at the hospital?" I asked as he sat down on the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, and started scrolling through the tv channels. 

"How are you and Wilson?" I raised a brow at the question. House was never one for pleasantries. 

"Fine..." I said still suspicious of his motives.

"How's the sex?" I blushed a little at his bold question.

"Good..." He turned to me with his brows raised.

"Just good?" I rolled my eyes, becoming increasingly agitated. 

"I meant great, no spectacular!" I said sarcastically. I sighed. "What do you want House? I'm tired, and I'm frustrated." 

"Aha!" I looked at him confused. "Wilson said the exact same thing today." Oh. I sat down beside him and grabbed the bag of chips I had left on the table.

"Did...did he tell you?" I asked as I sucked on a chip, my eyes staying focused on the tv.

"Yes." I swallowed the salty snack before sighing sadly.

"I...I don't know what to do. We want a baby so bad, but...I'm not sure I can handle a third miscarriage." He sighed before putting his hand on my knee. I looked up at him, a strange, sorrowful, almost regretful look on his face.

"Well...third time's the charm." I smiled weakly at the odd but caring sentiment.

"Yeah. Third time's the charm."

It was late in the evening by the time James got home. House had left hours ago, of course not before eating us out of house and home and making me binge his favorite soap with him.

"Hey babe." He leaned down and pecked me on the lips. 

"Hi..." I said softly. He came back from putting his things away.

"Are-are you ok?" He sat next to me and held my hands. His eyes were filled with worry. 

"House stopped by." I look of shock and worry crossed his face.

"What...what did he want?" 

"He said you told him." I shook my head and laughed a little. "Told me 'third time's the charm'." I felt tears pool in my eyes.

"I'll be right back..." He kissed my hairline before suddenly standing up and storming out of the house.

Wilson's Pov 

I hated to leave her, but I was blinded by rage. House had once again meddled with our lives, and this time, I would not stand for it. 

I finally reached House's apartment building. I stormed in before finding his door and pounding on it.

"House! I know you're in there!" I continued to hit the door until he opened it.

"Hey buddy! Come in." He said cheerfully. "I assume the wife told you about my little visit."

"You had no right!" I jabbed my finger in his chest as he rolled his eyes and pulled me inside. I tried to protest, but he pushed me onto the couch with his cane.

"Sit." He then hobbled off and came back with a stack of papers. "After I left your apartment, I decided to do a little research." He slammed down the papers on the coffee table. "In these papers, you'll find the best foods, diets, sleeping and sitting positions, medications, etc. for keeping your pregnancy safe and preventing miscarriages. As well as the number of a competent OBG." I looked at him in shock.

"What?" 

"Oh! Also, here's a list of the best sex positions to use during pregnancy." He handed me a paper. "It's technically safe to do all kinds of sex as long as you don't have any diseases and your doctor doesn't tell you otherwise. Although if I were you, I'd just ask for hand and blow jobs so you don't have to do anything but still get to have that special happy ending." He shrugged as I still stared at him in shock. I quickly shook my head, knocking myself out of my trance.

"First off. I'm not doing that. Secondly, my sex life is none of your business, and thirdly...thank you...I guess?" I started to look through the papers. Some of the information we had already known but there were plenty of things we hadn't thought of. I reached the page of the OBG. "Wait. This is the top OBG in the city. And it says that an appointment is already scheduled." I looked up at him in disbelief. "We've been trying to get in with her for months. How did you-?" He cut me off.

"She owes me a favor." I furrowed my eyebrows as he rolled his eyes and sighed. "Just leave and go have hot sex with your wife." I rolled my eyes as he turned to walk towards his kitchen. "Oh, and try out position number eight on that list! Did that with a hooker once. She almost quit hooking after that, wanted to get hitched right then and there!" I sighed. He was incredibly selfish and strange but...he cared...in his own screwed up way.

I entered the apartment with the stack of papers. Everything was quiet. 

"Y/n?" I heard some shuffling before she came into view. I sighed and hugged her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left like that I was just-" She cut me off with a kiss.

"Mad?" I nodded. "When you left in such a hurry after I told you about House...well, I figured you must not have actually told him and that he had lied to me." Our foreheads pressed together. 

"Right...I'm still sorry." She stroked my cheek and smiled slightly.

"It's alright." She dragged me to the couch. "What are all those papers for?" 

"Right! House printed out all this information for us..." She took the pages and looked through them. 

"Well...these are certainly...specific." I looked over to see the paper she had was the one about the best sex positions for during pregnancy. I blushed a little as I saw the diagrams with explicit instructions. 

"That's-that was House's...idea. I figured we could just throw that page away." She laughed lightly as she continued to look through the stack.

"I don't know. They might be...fun." She continued to giggle until she suddenly stopped. "We have an appointment with Dr. Ryans?" She gasped in excitement. "How?" I smiled and shrugged as she looked towards me.

"Apparently, she owes House a favor." She quirked a brow. "I don't know why, I figured it's probably better I didn't ask." She laughed and nodded in silent agreement. 

"We should go to bed." I raised a brow and smirked.

"To bed or to bed?" She laughed and patted my cheek.

"The first one." I put on an exaggerated pout before getting up and following her.

Your Pov

It had been a few months since the second miscarriage. It was hard, but thankfully, I had James. Together, we slowly got through it.

Tonight, I sat in the bathroom. A familiar plastic stick sat on the counter. I waited with baited breath. My phone alarm went off, and I quickly grabbed the test. Positive! I screamed in excitement, and James quickly came running in.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" I showed him the pregnancy test. He grinned and picked me up and spun us around before grabbing my face and kissing me. "You're pregnant?" He asked the shock, still clear on his face. I nodded excitedly before bringing him in a deep kiss. When I pulled back for air, I saw the tears in his eyes, and I could feel my own start to fall.

"I'm gonna miss our other two babies." I said. I was elated to be pregnant again, but it was bitter sweet. I was still scared for the future. He nodded.

"I know. I know. But they're safe now." I cried as he stroked my cheek, our foreheads pressed together. "We'll figure this out...together." He said as if he had read my mind. I smiled. I couldn't be more grateful for these moments even if they were tinged with a little pain.

"There's no one I'd rather go through this with." 

[cyanocophrenic]

I don't know why we never thought to do this before.

Hell, we even keep the ropes next to the gum. The idea was staring us in the face all along.

I kneel on the bed and she slides in behind me, looping the bight under my tits. I close my eyes, trying to shut out everything but the feel of the hemp as she pulls it over my shoulders and around my back. She's tying things a little loose, and it feels weird, but it's probably better that way.

She pats my butt to let me know that she's finished, and I pop up to my knees to give her room to tie a harness around my hips. She fumbles and swears to herself a couple of times, and then swings around in front of me.

"I need you to lay back," she says, before playfully shoving me backwards. I let myself topple, and she continues webbing me with rope. I guess looser ties don't fight gravity very well. Won't be a problem for too long, I think to myself.

"Okay," she says, tying off my hips, "open up."

I let her slip the half-piece of gum in my mouth, but then I think about refusing to chew. What, after all, would be brattier than not playing along? What if I just took my toys and went home? Unfortunately, she's already bound my ankles to the bed, legs spread wide apart, so I have room to grow.

She slides up and looks me in the eye. "Chew."

I do what I'm told.

The flavor is always way too intense starting out, almost chemical, in a way. Its' like when they get the mix wrong in the slushy machine and it's all syrup. Cloying, too sweet, too bright, too fruity. It's hard not to drool blue all over the pillows, but I know better than to actually misbehave.

Like clockwork, as the flavor begins to mellow I feel the telltale warmth deep in my belly. Chewing was a chore before, now it becomes compulsive, thoughtless.

When people write stories about things like this, especially people who've never been through it, they always go on and on about the pressure and the fear and the intensity, but it's never been like that for me.

It does feel incredible, though. They get that part right.

The warmth grows inside me, filling me up, and, when it runs out of room, I begin to grow. I start to lose myself in the feeling of swelling around the juice inside me, when the ropes begin to pull tight across my belly.

I don't mean to, but I arch back and moan deeply, letting a little rivulet of blue dribble onto the pillows. Oops. She chuckles, and we both know I'll pay for ruining her linens yet again.

The feeling is so sharp now, and I lose my mind a little as my skin begins to fight against the hemp. The warmth spreads outward from my middle, spilling into my thighs and my chest, filling everything it can find.

I can feel the knots all over me begin to pull tight as I fill out the webs of rope. I spill out of the gap between the harnesses, and the little part of me that still feels human is silently grateful that we started with something small and easy. The other part of me, the one that's taking over, wants to be squeezed like overripe fruit through fine mesh until there's nothing left but a small ocean of dark blue juice. That's new.

I start to puff through the voids in the harnesses, the cool sensation of the air against my taut skin colliding with the burning where the ropes are holding me back. I start to wonder whether they'll break before I do, but I put that thought away. My breasts are swelling faster than they normally do, even though I only have half a dose in me. They start to obscure my view of things happening lower down, but not before I see her climb in between my swelling thighs.

It's way too soon for me to be leaking, but I feel her tongue against me, and I convulse. soon enough she reappears, mouth stained blue with a look in her eye like I've probably ruined another mattress.

The gum is flavorless now, but I keep chewing. She hasn't told me to stop yet. Still, I feel the growth slow to a crawl. The warmth begins to dissipate, so I give my arms and legs a cursory wiggle.

I'm so full, and still tied down, but I can tell that I'm not round enough. I can't help it. Somewhere, far away in my brain, I know this is a test run, but I keep chewing so frantically, hoping to swell just a little bit more. I almost want to cry.

I'm supposed to be a giant, juicy balloon, not this weird little excuse for an adult human woman.

I guess she can feel my desperate fidgeting, because she crawls up and lays beside me.

"Hey, big girl," she says, wiping bright blue tears off my cheek. "I know you want more, but I think we need to juice you. These ropes look about ready to goosh you to pieces."

I want to say "Let them!" but I know that's the juice talking.

"I know," she says, like she's reading my mind. "It's not fair, but we need to be safe."

I pout harder.

She knows better than to negotiate with terrorists, though. "What are you going to do about it?" she asks, feigning innocence. "You're tied down tight, and too juicy to move." She reaches over, grabs one move my engorged nipples, and squeezes hard. Dark blue juice sprays the wall behind her as I yowl in ecstasy. "Oh no, are you going to squirt on me until I do what you want?" she asks, squeezing again.

"Just cut the ropes off," I beg, trying to think of anything that might free me up to grow safely.

"Sorry, babe," she says, genuinely apologetic. "The rope's too tight now. I don't think I could get the scissors in there without risking popping you."

"I'm going to juice you," she says. "Do you want business, or pleasure?"

I'm too frustrated to cum right now, stuck like I am between one self and another. "Business," I mumble. Fuck orgasms. I'd rather just get this over with.

She smiles gently, and scrambles up onto my massive belly, and grabs a nipple in each hand. Her weight feels amazing, and as she starts to milk giant spurts of juice out of my breasts, back and forth, back and forth, I realize that business may lead to pleasure regardless of how I feel.

Her whole body is swaying with the rhythm of her arms, and I feel a different kind of warmth start to build between my swollen thighs. I can feel every inch of the hemp biting into me, pulling me in so many directions. It feels so good to be her balloon, letting her tease and squeeze as she pleases.

I'm taken completely by surprise when I cum suddenly and violently. I can tell she is, too, because she falls off my quaking body backwards, getting doused by the juice gushing out of me. I'm absorbed by the orgasm wracking my body, and time loses meaning for a little while.

When I come to, panting, I realize that she's nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, I'm small enough now to slip out of the ropes around my wrists and ankles. I sit bolt upright, or, as bolt as I can at least. The residual juice is going to weigh me down a little until my body can process it naturally.

I call her name.

"Down here," says a stunned voice. I look over the foot of the bed.

She's laying there, eyes wide in shock, absolutely drenched in blue.

"Wow," she says.

"Are you okay?" I ask, scrambling to offer her a puffy, light blue hand.

"Look," she says, taking my hand, "that was so much fun, really."

"But?" I ask, trying not to hold my breath.

"... but we have got to find a way to do this that doesn't change my hair color."

[samcrosfaith]

WITCHCRAFT 🔮

Jax Teller x random fem!oc because I suck at writing character x reader.

warning ⚠️; 18+, a little bit of smut towards the end, paranormal stuff like witchcraft and blood.

a/n; please feel free to leave requests in my ask box for Halloween and Christmas One Shots. Happy and Jax only please because I'm not good at writing the other characters lol. If you have a specific wish/look/backstory for your OC, please let me know— otherwise I'll come up with something. 🦇🎃🕸️

If you want to get tagged in future Halloween and Christmas One Shots just let me know in the comments and I'll add you to the tag list! 🤎🍂

this was requested by one of my lovely Wattpad followers!

tag list; @ravennaortiz

word count; about 2.5k

Nola lifted her head as the front door slammed shut and Jax stormed into the kitchen, knowing from the smell of herbs that he would find his Old Lady there. No one but him knew what she was, how special she really wasᅳ and that was a good thing, for her own protection.

He knew that his club would be able to deal with it after they declared him crazy first, and maybe Jax would tell his brothers about Nola's abilities at some pointᅳ but only when his Old Lady was ready. Until then, she continued to secretly help lead the club on the right path, mainly by helping Jax talk to his dead fatherᅳ rarely, after all, it was no longer white magic once you summoned the dead.

But sometimes Jax needed the guidance that only John could give him, as much as he hated using his Old Lady for thatᅳ but Nola was happy to help, in any situation. When someone in the club was injured, she worked in the background to make sure that the healing happened much faster or that something worse could be prevented.

But that wasn't all. Thanks to Nola, Jax had learned to love again, to let warmth back into his cold heart after Tara had run off again two years ago and tried to take his sons away from him. In the end, Tara had agreed to leave the boys with him as long as she could see them both regularly, and finally moved to Oregon to take on her new job.

And when Nola came into his life about six months later, it hit him like a truck. Something about this woman had drawn him in immediately, the shimmer in her greenish eyes so strong that it felt like she could see into his soul, as if she knew exactly what he neededᅳ and shortly afterwards he had found out why.

The fact that she was a witch was a shock at first, but it made no difference. It was her person he loved, for whom he would go over dead bodies. And she would do the same for him, as he'd soon find out.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was sharp, different than usual, as if she knew something bad had happened. "What happened, Jax?"

She took a step closer, tentatively reaching for his wrists as he ran his hands down his face in despair, anger flashing in his glassy eyes. "Tara took the boys. She's gone, Nola, just gone."

He watched as Nola stumbled back, her face twisted in shock as she let the news sink in. One hand flew to her chest, the other used to brace herself against the doorframe, just as broken as he was.

Nola loved the boys as if they were her own and Jax had mentioned often enough that she was more of a mother than Tara ever had. But the doctor still had a right to see the kids because Thomas was her biological son and Jax was stupid enough to sign half of the rights to Abel over to her years ago.

"She took my babies?", she asked through a sob before blind rage overcame her. Her gaze turned cold, her eyes shining dangerously. "Do you have anything from her? It doesn't matter what, even a photo is enough."

"Can such a spell harm the baby?" Jax asked, gently grabbing her hand before casting a worried glance at her not-yet-visible baby bump. "If so, we'll find another way, babe."

"No, it can't. She'll pay for this. She can't just keep coming into our lives and ruining it by taking our babies", Nola seethed, tears of anger at Tara and fear for her children welling up in her eyes. "She'll feel the consequences."

"As much as I want that", Jax began seriously, pulling her flush against him before placing a hand against her cheek. "I don't want you to put yourself and our daughter in danger."

"You don't even know if it's a girl", she murmured quietly, seeking refuge in his arms, her head resting on his chest. "I've been a witch my whole life, Jax. I know what I'm doing, let me help."

"I just have a feeling", he mumbled against her long, raven-black hair before he placed a kiss on the top of her head, gently pushing her away by her arms. "Are you sure about this, darlin'?"

"Yes, absolutely sure", she assured him eagerly. The young woman could never do anything that could harm her own flesh and blood. "And now bring me something from Tara so I can find the bitch."

ᅳ

An hour later, Nola was sitting at the large dining table in the small but perfect house in which Jax and the kids now lived with her, the room dark due to the drawn curtains. Only the light of a few candles illuminated the dining room with soft light.

The words Nola spoke were barely understandable, but Jax still tried to figure out what exactly his Old Lady was saying; to no avail. However, concern rose in him when some blood dripped from her nose and her voice vibrated more strongly. But before he could say anything, his hand already resting on her shoulder, her eyes shot open.

"Done", she purred softly and pointed to the candles in front of her, which was placed right above an old picture of Tara, the only one Jax had found in a box in the garage. Next to it was another candle with a picture of Thomas and Abel. "The candles have to burn until they burn outᅳ don't blow them out. Give me a piece of paper, I'll write down the address of the motel."

"Why, if you've already found her?" Jax asked, standing up and coming back with a piece of paper, a pen and a tissue. "Why is your nose bleeding, Nola? I told youᅳ"

"I'm fine, baby", Nola hummed, placing a hand against his arm before taking the things with a soft 'thank you'. Only when the address was written on paper did she wipe the blood from her nose. "I want to come with you, and before you say noᅳ"

This time Jax interrupted her with a gentle kiss, caressing her cheek as he slid the note into his pocket. "We'll do this together, babe, you and me."

Nola smiled gratefully. "Then let's go, I wanna look her in the eyes again before it's too late."

"Wait, what do you mean by that?" Jax' chair slid across the floor with a squeak as he stood up after Nola, who was covering the candles with special glasses so nothing could happen. "What did you do?"

"I told you she would feel it", she shrugged nonchalantly, grabbed his hand and dragged him outside. "Come on, I want my babies back."

"Maybe I should stop asking questions", Jax muttered under his breath before they hurried to her SUV so as not to waste any more time.

ᅳ

While Jax and Nola were on their way to the motel just a few miles outside of Charming, Tara was thinking of a plan to hide with the kids until she suddenly felt a scratchy pain in her throat that was getting stronger by the second.

On her way to the bathroom to get a glass of water, she was overcome by a coughing fit. Everything in her chest tightened, taking away her ability to breathe. Panic rose in her as she was unable to stop the coughing. She brought a hand to her mouth as she gasped for air, her eyes growing as she noticed the blood in her palm.

"What theᅳ", she couldn't say more, the words just a broken croak.

A sharp pain shot through her chest, sending her to the floor in panic. Trying to sit on her knees, her upper body arched in pain. The doctor began to gag until blood gushed out of her mouth like a waterfall.

The liquid seeped into the floor, staining the beige carpet a crimson red. Her panicked gaze fell on the boys, who had both fallen asleep at the same time about twenty minutes ago, and nothing seemed to wake them upᅳ  and Tara wasn't exactly quiet.

It was weird, but the boys' chests were rising and falling at regular intervals, so they had to be okay.

Tara crawled across the floor to get to her bag, and again she threw up blood, this time it even gushed out of her nose, causing her to roll onto her back and clutch her throat hastily, out of pure reflex.

With each long cough, blood spurted upwards, covering her face. This was her end, she could feel it. If she didn't get to the hospital within a few minutes, she would dieᅳ that much was certain.

Tara jerked her head to the side as the door swung open, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as Nola and Jax stormed into the room, the latter closing the door behind him.

"You bitch!" It was Nola who approached Tara first, kicking the doctor in the ribs, not surprised at the sightᅳ after all, she was responsible for it. "Did you really think you could take my kids?", the woman let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she slowly crouched down and brushed a few strands of Tara's short hair out of her face, smiling as the woman twitched and whimpered under her touch. "How are you feeling? You made quite a mess here."

"Babe, what is this?" Jax looked at the two women, not quite sure what he was staring at exactly.

He didn't care about Tara, but he didn't want Nola to have to take such steps just because his life was pure chaos. "I don't want you to kill anyone for me."

"Baby, I really love you", Nola began with a deep sigh, looking up at her fiancé. "But it's not always all about you. The bitch took our kids and kept trying to ruin our livesᅳ I've had enough."

Lifting an eyebrow, Jax was at a loss for words, not sure what to say, but his chest still filled with pure pride. His Old Lady could be a bitch, a protective one, and that was hot as hell.

"Alright, do what makes you happy, darlin'", he said, lifting his hands before he stopped behind her and crossed his arms over his chest. "But what about the boys? I don't want them to see this."

"Don't worry, they'll sleep until we blow out the candles", she reassured him, frowning. "Do you really think I would've risked our kids seeing that? You should know me better, handsome."

Jax rubbed his neck sheepishly, giving her an apologetic smile. "Sorry babe, that's not what I meant."

When Tara reached for help and grabbed Nola's wrist, Nola pulled her arm back in disgust, her eyes darkening. "I could make this stop", she said with a sweet smile, making Tara nod frantically. "On one condition.."

Nola closed her eyes, hummed a few words to herself and tapped Tara's forehead with the tip of her index finger for a few seconds, making Tara's coughing fit stop immediately.

Tara rolled onto her stomach as panicked sobs left her throat, tears streaming down her pale face. Only when she realized what had just happened did she sit down on her butt and slid as far away from Nola as possible, her features twisted in shock.

"Oh, so now you're scared?" Jax sneered angrily, his steps heavy as he slowly walked towards Tara and crouched down in front of her, Nola right next to him. "What do we learn from this?"

"Iᅳ I'm sorry", Tara choked out, bursting into tears as she pulled her legs against her trembling body. "Please..please don't hurt me!"

"Aww, she's even begging!" Nola snorted a laugh, her face only inches away from Tara's. "Here's what's going to happen. You go back to Oregon, never set foot in Charming again, and never think or talk of us again. If you try anyway, well..",

Nola sighed theatrically, almost as if she was enjoying the idea of hurting the doctor again. "Then next time I'll let you choke miserably on your own bloodᅳ and I'll watch with a smile on my face."

Tara's bitter sobs bounced off the walls, both of her hands covering her mouth to muffle the volume. "Wᅳ what are you?"

"None of your damn business", Jax snarled, his gaze murderously intense as his blue lenses dug into Tara's skull. "Did you hear what Nola said? Are you goin' to listen to her?"

"Yes, yes for God's sake! But please, please let me go", she pleaded, the sight almost heartbreaking if only someone would care about her.

Nola smiled contentedly, pushing herself to her feet. "Okay, then we're done here! Have a nice life, bitch."

While Nola turned around and threw her black hair over her shoulders so she could pick one of their sleeping sons up, Jax glared at Tara again, his gaze nothing but a threat.

"Don't say a word to anyone or you'll wish you never messed with us, Tara",  Jax said, more serious than ever before, his voice was dangerously calm, before he spat at Tara's feet and then picked up Abel before he left the motel room with his family.

ᅳ

Moaning Jax's name, Nola threw her head back, her hands placed on his chest as she moved her hips in circles, his cock buried all the way inside her slick folds.

They had both needed a break after that day, and after spending the evening with their children, they had retreated to the bedroom and wasted no time in ripping off their clothes.

"That's it, darlin', keep goin'", Jax urged with a groan slipping from his lips, slapping her ass as he pushed his hips up, helping her out a little.

He felt his climax building, so he brought a hand to Nola's full breasts, kneading one in his palm as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, knowing that Nola never lasted long when her breasts got touchedᅳ this was one way to make her come, always.

"Fuck Jax", the woman on top of him gasped, locking eyes with him, returning Jax' grin, savouring every second as she rode him. "I'm close, baby", she drawled sultry, another moan falling from her plump, dark-red lips.

"Good, let go for me", he demanded encouragingly, licking his lips as his own breathing quickened and his cock twitched inside her. "Wanna feel you cum on my cock, sweetheart."

And that was it. Something in Nola's lower abdomen snapped and a moment later she climaxed, moaning his name loudly as she squirted all over him after Jax rolled and pinched her nipple between his fingers again, a gush of fluids now covering his pubes, her long nails leaving bloody welts on his chest.

"Fuck babe", he panted, his voice deep and hoarse as he slid his hand to the back of Nola's neck to pull her head down, his lips brushing hers.

"I love it when you do that", Jax croaked against her lips, an excited whimper falling from them before he pulled her into a sloppy kiss, chasing his own climax.

Nola moaned into the kiss as thick ropes of cum filled her, the warm, thick liquid warming her walls even more. She was already pregnant, so what else could happen?

As she collapsed onto his chest, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps, she closed her eyes and sighed softly as Jax ran his long fingers through her raven-black strands.

"I love you, Nola, I hope you know that", he murmured, the weariness slowly becoming audible in his tone as the day took its toll. "Thank you for todayᅳ for getting out boys back."

"I know, don't worryᅳ and I love you, too, more than you know", she hummed, not doubting his words. The advantage of being a witch was that she could tell when someone was being honest or not.

Nola slowly lifted her head, leaving a kiss on his lips. "I think there's nothing I wouldn't do for you and our childrenᅳ and I mean that."

Jax smiled weakly, rubbing his thumb against her cheekbone after she rolled off him, laying down next to him. "Good, because I'd do anything for you too, darlin'."

"I know, handsome", Nola smiled again as she laid her head back on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat soothing.

When Jax placed his hand on her bump, like he did every night since they had found out that she was pregnant, their eyelids fluttered shut, both falling into a deep sleep after a few minutes after the eventful day.

[flzrencent]

chris sturniolo ,, the seventh letter

! contents ! ; major character death, heavy angst!!! literally all hurt zero comfort!!!!! war (set sometime in the mid - earlyish 1900s??), probably soo historically inaccurate i tried to research i think.

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#7 

July 28th Somewhere in Sicily.

'I hope this reaches you well. 

It’s cold here, Matt’s stationed elsewhere – somewhere warmer, safer, I hope. I worry for him. Nick is here. I miss you, how’s it at home? 

I didn't think it was possible to miss someone so much. To get on that train with the knowledge I wouldn't see you for what could be years? It’s still all too much for me to bear. Even here, where the wind is harsh and I'm still sleeping a layer away from dirt and a wall away from death, all I can really think about is what would’ve happened if I'd have kissed you before I got on that train.

Though I'm sure this won’t last long. I have faith. With you waiting for me, I will continue having it.

It won’t do us any good pondering. So I'll stay thinking about how I will kiss you the second I come home.

I don’t think I have ever been this tired. I hope tomorrow will be easier, and I hope all is well where you are. 

Don’t worry so much about me, I beg. Celebrate our birthday with my family, will you?

All my love,

Chris.'

The letter sat tear stained in your shaky hands. The pristine paper yellowed, dirt marks from what was undeniably Chris’ hands when writing it on the corners, scribbles of hearts drawn lazily where he could fit them.

The death of Christopher Sturniolo was, undeniably and undoubtedly, the most painful thing to ever happen to you. The news, revealed on a sunny day, air warm and laughter echoing through the streets as the family mourned and spoken to you by two men who’d knocked on your front door, brought you to gut wrenching sobs immediately.

“Ma’am?” 

You wiped at your eyes, ridden with sleep and stress, and nodded in confirmation as they clarified your identity.

“Were you … in any sort of relation to Christopher Sturniolo?”

Were?

“Yes,” you spoke, brows furrowed as you shifted your weight on your feet, leaned up against the doorframe with a tilted head and an accusing look, “I am,” you clarified, the look on your face showcasing the tell-tale signs of concern, the beating in your chest suddenly loudening.

“We really are sorry to be the ones to break this to you, but he’s tragically - …”

The ringing in your head interrupted the rest of what they had to say. Hot, salty tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head,

A shallow and a shaky breath. “No, no, you’re wrong.” You pleaded, words small and broken by the sobs already slipping from your lips. This has to be some sort of misunderstanding, right?

“We truly are sorry,” the other spoke, voice low in remorse with his hat held low to his chest with one hand, the other outstretched with a worn out envelope and a sincere look on his face. The distant laughter lingered, the joy which only moments ago brought a smile to tug at your lips, and you selfishly wanted nothing more than for it to stop.

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florence ,

most of my war knowledge is from 9th grade history! excuse the terrible inaccuracy probably. can u tell i tried to be vague

this is so short aswell literally like 470 words. but i am a sucker for angst and i fear its what i find easier to write </3 i also lowkey forgot i could post things that i've written so i have countless bits in my docs rn!

[riddles-n-games]

TIG Drabble #6-Libby and Xander

He didn't hear the soft humming when he entered. His mind was on autopilot as his feet trudged the usual path straight for the sweets cupboard. Open the cupboard, take the jar, set the jar down, open it, retrieve a cookie, serotonin boost. That was the sole focus of this mission.

"Xander?" A quiet voice broke through his tunnel vision and he turned around to find a concerned Libby. Busted. Realizing he was holding the cookie jar, he placed it on the nearby counter and looked down, rubbing the back of his neck that had conveniently started throbbing painfully. How ironic that he felt like the literal kid getting caught with his hand in the forbidden cookie jar despite the rule having expired years ago.

"Oh, hi, Libby. I didn't think anyone was here."

A soft smile appeared. "Just me. Testing out a new batch for the food truck. We have a fundraiser again this weekend."

He nodded in acknowledgment, still looking down. "Well, I'm just gonna grab a cookie and I'll be out of your hair. I don't want to disturb you."

"Oh no, you're not interrupting. In fact, I have a batch ready and I need a taste-tester. Want one?"

"Sure." He placed the cookie jar back in its usual spot and then slowly shuffled towards Libby. In her hand on a small plate was a glorious slice of perfection in dessert form. The icing was a berry purple in a gorgeous swirl with blueberries on top and tiny sugar flowers all over. In the actual cupcake, there were dark patches, indicating it a fruit flavor. Blueberry or blackberry, he guessed.

"I apologize it's not a scone but it is still blueberry-flavored."

"'S ok." He took the peace offering and sat on one of the tall chairs on the other side of the counter. She joined him with her own. They ate in silence. As Xander took his last bite, he finally made a remark. "It's good. Did you make the sugar flowers?"

She nodded. "Do you want water?" He shook his head until he started coughing. Libby stood up and filled a glass, sliding it across the table towards him and he grabbed it, downing it in slow gulps. She kept standing until he stopped. "Good now?" He nodded.

Taking a seat again, she slowly trailed her hand and put it over his. "What's wrong? You seem down today." He pursed his lips and looked ahead but didn't move her hand. She slid her fingers into the gaps between his and gently squeezed his palm before he suddenly returned it, gripping unusually tight.

"You want to talk about what's bothering you? I won't force it if you don't want to." He sighed deeply and turned slightly her way but kept his eyes concentrated on their hands. Where to begin?

A few moments went by before he spoke. "I, uhm..."

He inhaled sharply. "Honestly? It's kind of dumb how it started. In robotics this morning, one of my new experiments kept malfunctioning. I spent two hours trying to fix it only for the whole thing to fall apart at the last possible second. Some part came very loose, it was this close to just straight up blowing up."

Libby nodded as he paused, looking to her before he continued. He shot her a grateful smile, small but there.

"In physics, Bex was shaken. She said her mom had another meltdown. Got really loose-lipped after..." He gave her another look. They both knew what that meant. Rebecca dealt with it and brought the aftermath with her but Xander was always there for her. He was her rock in many ways and she was supportive of him too, but some days, it was too much. "I did what I could to help but," his voice lowered, "I fear one day it won't be enough. She's still levelheaded for all she went through but I worry she'll spiral. A-And..."

"And?"

"It's a lot to deal with. I love her and I know she returns the favor when I need it but sometimes I wonder if I won't be able to deal with it mentally myself. That scares me. That I'll let her down and me in the process because I couldn't hold myself together anymore. I am good at carrying other people's burdens but not my own and I think that one day, my own problems will catch up to me when she might need me. I-" Xander cut off, eyes wide at what he just said.

Libby brought her free hand to his back and rubbed it up and down, hoping it soothed him. "Hey now. You're a good friend. Anyone who knows you that well knows that. You're always there to help us when we're down but that doesn't mean we can always expect you to be in a good place either. "

"I know just-"

"No buts. Xan, we're lucky to have you in our lives. Especially Rebecca. I don't think she would be mad if you couldn't handle it for once. You've been with her your whole life and she knows when you're hurting like you do with her. I'm pretty sure she'd be more concerned that you didn't find someone to help you rather than just dumping thoughtlessly without noticing your state first."

He sighed deeply and rubbed his temple. There was nothing more that he wanted to hear and to believe than that. "I hope so."

"I know so. You know, I think this is a conversation you've needed to have a long time ago but you've been avoiding it. Why don't you talk to her about it?"

"Because-" What if she thinks I think of her as a burden and feels like she's been using me and thinks this friendship was fake all along? What if she thinks I'm weak for not dealing with my problems first?

The fear may not been voiced but it was enough. Libby knew what he wanted to say. She smiled sadly. "I get that you're scared of what she might think but I believe she'll be much more understanding than you give her credit for. Promise me you'll at least try."

He exhaled shakily and nodded. "Ok."

"Trust me, you're one of the bravest people I know and I also know that if you talk to Rebecca, she'll be thankful for it. Both of you will be." Libby was right. His fears were irrational and it was likely all for naught. Rebecca was his best friend and she stuck by him through so much as well, why wouldn't she be able to understand his feelings all of a sudden? This would give them clarity and a new profoundness to their friendship. Maybe even a safety net if the line blurred too much.

"And Xan?"

"Mmm?"

"You can always come to me and I will do as much as I can. I'm here if you need: whatever, whenever. You don't always to have to rely on just your brothers." He considered that. She was right about that too. It wasn't just the four of them anymore and with the addition of Avery and Libby, their family had grown. Home was a little bit fuller now and oh how he was thankful for it. But that one thing she said...

"Did Nash tell you that? 'Cause that sounds like something he would say."

"Maybe." She winked.

"Figured. He's been hanging around you a lot."

"No comment on that. But let's not make this about me. My focus right now is on you and your needs. You clearly still have a lot left to say and let go of." He couldn't deny that so he continued to recall the rest of his day until the thing that was heaving him down the most.

"-left for my locker, I went to Dr. Gallagher to get a prize I received for a prior competition. As I waited for her to get it, some students that were there, I don't even know why I started listening but I was picking up on bits of their conversation. It sounded like they were talking about feeling sorry for someone, about their parents being absent. That was... That was until I heard Skye's name."

He had to stop and steady his breaths. He knew this part was coming but panic was catching in his throat and he wasn't sure if it was going to take his ability to think. But Libby wasn't about to let that happen. She cupped his cheek, refocusing him to the feel of her warm, soft palm. "It's okay, Xan. Just breath." If that wasn't enough to make his heart swell, the feeling of her lips pressing against his forehead made him cling to her comfort that much more. They stayed that way for a moment.

"I... I'm good now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Only then did he realize he was slumped against her and part of him still didn't want to leave the little bubble of peace but he had to get it out. Xander was well aware of how things could eat at him when he was alone and drove him into a crash-and-burn cycle of inventing. It made him feel like Jameson at times. So he pushed forward.

"Th-The girls, they... they were talking about her arrest and how it must be hard to deal with having a parent as a criminal. With my grandfather gone and no father in the house, it must be hard having no real parental guidance. What a shame that all my efforts can't be celebrated with proper loving parents around."

The fresh sting of tears pricked at his eyes but he continued, "The teacher came back and heard what they were saying so she told them to leave. She apologized and said they had no right to talk about that but I mean, they seemed sympathetic, not mocking. Dr. G gave me the prize and told me if I wanted to talk about anything, I can come to her. But when I looked at her, all I saw was the pity. I couldn't say anything, I was too stunned to say anything so I just walked away. That's the end of it."

"Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry that you had to hear that."

"It's true though, isn't it? I mean, my mother is in jail, my grandfather is dead, and I don't..." he gulped, "I don't have a dad." That one probably hurt the most to say.

The one parent he had showed a much more monstrous side that he hadn't believed existed. He acknowledged Skye's manipulativeness but the depravity of her actions since Avery's arrival was enough for a true crime documentary. He missed his grandfather dearly, that ache paired with his mother's betrayal had become a sore spot which he tried to avoid. His brothers had tried shielding him from the worst of it but even they couldn't keep the news away forever. And how much he yearned to have a father in his life, not just an older brother who tried to step in as one.

His father may know of his existence but he didn't even know of his identity. For all he knew, his father could have been dead by now. A broken family, some dead, some gone, some unknown, he practically felt like orphan was an acceptable term at that point.

"Xander..."

"Libby, I might as well be called an orphan." Her eyes widened. "Let's not lie. Skye isn't much of a mother no matter how much I lie to myself. Aunt Zara keeps a distance and Nan is Nan. I appreciate that but I've longed for a normal family so long, is that too much to ask? For so long it's felt like it's been just me and my brothers. Without our grandfather around, it's just us four. That's it." His voice got small and he felt like it too. The tears were flowing freely now. There, those were all his fears put out into the open.

Libby cupped his cheeks gently. "You're so brave to admit that. I'm proud of you. But Xander, it's not just you and them anymore, ok? You have me and Avery now too. I'm here and if you'd like to think of me as your big sister, I will gladly be that for you. You're part of my family." He looked at her.

"Really? You think that about me?"

She nodded reassuringly. "I've considered you my little brother for a long time now." Maybe it was the way she said it, how soft her voice was or just the fact she cared, but a sob broke through. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now come here." He gladly accepted her warm hug. Quite literally, he melted into the embrace as he buried his nose into her shoulder. Her shirt smelled of coconuts, baking ingredients, and Nash's teakwood candles. Home.

"I'm here for you." He believed her. He held her tighter.

Xander dreamed of many things. Having a dad, a functioning family, a room of an infinite supply of blueberry scones. But he didn't have to dream of an elder sister. He had that for real.

A/N: Hey I know this was longer than a regular drabble but I felt it deserved to be as long as it is because the words just kept coming and that felt like the right thing to do to give this story the depth it needed. Funny thing is I realized that four of the five I already posted are actually pretty sad/angsty with the content they tackle and only the one I posted before this is actually light-hearted. Trust me, I don't plan to only post these kinds and there will be more fun ones to come. Anyways, thanks for reading as always and I'll see you in the next one.

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: After Kanan's death, Ezra enlists Chopper’s help in recording a special message for Sabine.

[RECORDING START]

[QUERY: ANNOYED: ARE YOU READY?]

. . . Yeah, I think so. Wait. How do I look? Do I have any marks on me? I should use the refresher, I think -

[RESPONSE: SARCASTIC: MY BATTERY WILL RUN OUT OF CHARGE BEFORE WE START, IDIOT.]

Hilarious, Chop. I know for a fact that Hera installed you with those new ZXL-90 batteries. The ones that store a charge through kinetic movement, right? I bet you can keep complaining for the rest of our lives without needing a recharge since you love running that motor mouth of yours.

[RESPONSE: SERIOUS: YOU ARE STALLING.]

[OBSERVATION: SUBJECT-6, ANXIETY RIDDEN. EYES DOWNCAST, FINGERS FIDGETING THROUGH HAIR]

Okay, yeah. I am. I don't really know what to say here. So much has happened - and there's so much more to come.

(pause)

Kanan would know what to say. What to do. He wouldn't be scared - well, no, he would be. But he wouldn't let it get the better of him.

[NOTE: SUBJECT-6 MIMICS SUBJECT-1'S (DECEASED) MODE OF SPEECH HERE]

'It's not being above the fear, kid. It's about not letting it be in the pilot's seat.'

. . . I miss him so much, Chopper. It hasn't been long since . . . well. Do you miss him, too?

[RESPONSE: GENTLE: HE IS NOT GONE FOR ME. I HAVE A RECORD OF EVERY CONVERSATION AND INTERACTION WE HAD STORED IN MY MEMORY BANK.]

That must be nice. I can't even remember the last conversation we had.

[STATEMENT: SINCERE: IF YOU EVER WISH TO, I CAN REPLAY SOME OF MY MEMORIES OF HIM FOR YOU.]

Oh, that's . . . that's really sweet of you, Chopper. I'll have to take you up on that offer some day. But I think Hera needs you more than I do. Especially in the days to come.

[QUERY: WHAT DO YOU MEAN?]

[OBSERVATION: CONCERNED: SUBJECT-6 IS SMILING, BUT THERE IS A NOTE OF UNKNOWN EMOTION - MELANCHOLY(?) - PRESENT]

It's not important at the moment. Are you recording?

[RESPONSE: YES.]

Okay. Here goes -

(deep breath)

Hey, Sabine. If you're seeing this, then my plan worked and . . . well, I'm probably not there anymore. I might be dead, in fact.

(winces)

Edit that out. Actually, stop recording for a moment.

[COMPLAINT: WE JUST STARTED.]

Just stop, please. I need to gather my notes.

[RESPONSE: SURLY: AS YOU WISH.] [NOTATION: RECORDING CONTINUING UN-PAUSED; SUBJECT-6 IN CLEAR EMOTIONAL DISTRESS. WILL KEEP ON FILE FOR LATER FOR REVIEW WITH SUBJECT-5.]

(indistinct muttering)

How do I say this . . . how.

'Hey, Sabine. Sorry for disappearing on you and, by the way, I have a small favor to ask: can you protect Lothal while I'm gone? And maybe can you come find me, even though I don't know where I'm going?' Sure, yeah. She'll be super fine about all of that, Ezra. No big deal.

(more unintelligible muttering)

I can't say that. No way. It's too much. This was a mistake; I don't want to do any of this!

[QUERY: CONCERNED: WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?]

Everyone's looking to me now, Chopper. Everyone. Because Kanan's gone. I still had so much to learn from him - look at me, I'm not ready for this! I've been living in this safe little bubble with everyone from the Ghost and now that bubble is gone! Governor Pryce killed Kanan and now I'm all that's left.

(heavy breathing)

He changed things with his - his passing. Kanan did. I don't know how, but the Force is telling me, whispering to me that the time is coming soon. Lothal's fate rests with me now, I can feel it and I - and I don't feel worthy of it. I cannot bear it. It's too heavy.

(bitter laughter)

The boy savior. Do you know how long I have dreamed of freeing my home from the Empire? And now that moment has come and I'm too scared. I've never felt more like some just dumb street-rat than at this precise moment. Kanan picked the wrong kid to train - OW!

[NOTATION: PHYSICAL VIOLENCE (ELECTRIC PROBE) WAS USED TO CORRECT SUBJECT-6'S MISTAKEN STATEMENTS. PROVED SUCCESSFUL.]

Ow - what are you - ouch, that hurts!

Stop that! Chopper!

[STATEMENT: TERSE: I WILL STOP WHEN YOU CEASE YOUR STUPIDITY.]

Alright, alright! I'll stop.

[RESPONSE: GRUMPY: GOOD.]

I think you enjoyed that a little.

[STATEMENT: CHEERFUL: OF COURSE NOT. I ENJOYED THAT A LOT.]

(snorts) I figured.

. . . I'm a mess, aren't I.

[STATEMENT: POINTED: MORE SO THAN USUAL, YES.]

Yeah. Oh, if Kanan could see me now.

(pause)

Okay. Okay. I need to do this. Let me read my notes again, so I can get this right -

[STATEMENT: INTERJECTION: IGNORE THE NOTES. SAY WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY.]

I'll get it wrong, Chopper, I have so much to say to Sabine. I have to get it right. For her.

[STATEMENT: REASSURING: SHE WILL UNDERSTAND. DO NOT LET YOUR HEAD CONFUSE YOUR HEART. THAT IS WHAT SHE WILL HEAR IN WHATEVER YOU HAVE TO SAY.]

No. Absolutely not. I have the notes for a reason, Chop. How am I supposed to convey to her - my best friend, my partner, my - my -

(pause)

Look, she's - she's everything to me. Like how Hera was to Kanan, do you understand? I can't imagine my life without her. These past five years have passed so quickly, but every day spent by Sabine's side it was - it was magical. Five years is - what? - around 1800 days, if you're counting it in regular standard time. Most of those days were spent with her and everyone else on the Ghost. Best days of my life.

I'm not even a full adult yet in terms of physical years but . . . I guess you could call that period of time my 'good old days'. Heh.

The Force is this cosmic phenomenon that I can tap into, mysterious and unknowable, but her? As a Jedi I shouldn't be saying this, but I believe in her more than I do the Force. She's the only one I can trust with . . . everything.

[QUERY: CURIOUS: WHY ARE YOU MAKING THIS MESSAGE?]

. . . To say good-bye, I guess. And hello. If that makes sense.

Sabine, given her personal history, will be hurt the most from my absence. I know that for sure. I want her to know that - that I tried. I really did, to find any other way. But this is how it has to be.

A message like this is real. She can see me. Hear me. I'd write a letter too, but I don't think there's enough paper on hand to fully encapsulate how I feel about her.

So, I have to do this instead. Make a message, just for her. I do not want her wondering . . . about us. Where she stands with me.

(sighs)

Open secret that I had a huge crush on her when I first came aboard. She ignored that, thankfully.

[QUERY: SURPRISE: YOU HAD A CRUSH ON SABINE?]

You didn't know? I thought everyone -

[RESPONSE: MOCKING: THAT WAS A JOKE. EVEN A DROID LIKE ME FIGURED THAT OUT.]

Oh, ha, very funny. You pretend to be heartless, but I know you care. Hera wouldn't let you hang around after so long if you didn't.

Anyway, I thought I had it successfully buried after so long. There were bigger problems than some teenage crush, right? The Empire breathing down our necks, trying to outrun the Inquisitors, then Malachor, Mandalore, and then back to Lothal . . . I thought I had outgrown it.

(bitter-sweet smile)

But it turns out that it was still growing inside me. Went from a crush to something more. I love her. Nothing could shake it, not even what was revealed on Mandalore. I just wanted to be with her, through whatever the galaxy threw at us.

I love her, Chopper. I love Sabine Wren. She's in my veins, pumping through my arteries, giving me life. Giving me strength.

. . . You stopped recording, right? I don't want any of this in the message.

[STATEMENT: LIE: YES.]

(snorts)

Yeah, right.

Kanan and I talked a little about Jedi attachments a while back. I know how he and Hera handled it. I had hoped - no, I still hope that someday, me and Sabine will be able to give it a try.

(laughs)

If she'd have me, that is. Sometimes I catch her looking at me, smiling, and I think I get a sense of something . . . I don't know how to describe it, something deeper - and then she makes some glib remark or insult and it's gone again. I might just be delusional, though. Too many hits on my head through the years of combat against the Imps.

[STATEMENT: OBSERVATION: I CATCH YOU LOOKING AT HER, TOO.]

Oh, really? And how do I look? What's my expression like, I wonder.

[STATEMENT: THOUGHTFUL: STAR-STRUCK.]

. . . Yeah, that sounds about right. Looking at her - with these feelings I'm so desperate to hide, it's so hard sometimes. If I had to describe it - it's like trying to count a flock of birds against the sun.

Can't do it, right? It's too bright.

(quietly) Too bright. She's too bright to look at for so long. But I want to try anyway, like the sap I am. I guess I'm hoping that the image of her will be burned into my eyes. If my plan works, the chances of survivability are extremely low, you know.

I'd like her to be the last thing I see when I close my eyes for the last time, if the worst happens. Some people want stars, or forests, or a blue sky for a last image. Not me.

I just want her.

[QUERY: SOFT: IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO SAY?]

I love everything about her. Equally. Good, bad, ugly - or whatever she thinks is ugly about her. I certainly don't think there is. It's all Sabine, after all. And I love Sabine. So how could it any of it be bad?

The war won't stop because Thrawn is out of the picture. And it will be harder without me. And it guts me to think that I can't be by her side after this is all said and finished.

She has to do it. I have faith in Sabine that she will get it done. I'm counting on her, and I know she will not let me down.

I . . . all I can say is that I'm sorry. And I love you.

The only way out from all the grief and misery to come is to just get through it. She's the strongest person I know.

The only way out is through.

. . . And I know you've been recording all this time despite me saying to stop. So, we'll end this here. I'll just have Hera delete this memory file later after I do the real message.

[QUERY: SURPRISED: WHY DO YOU NOT WISH FOR SABINE TO HEAR THIS?]

Maybe I want to tell her myself when I see her again.

Or maybe I don't want her to be burdened with any of this. She has enough on her plate because of me.

(sighs)

I'll have to lie. Sorry, Sabine. If it really is the end . . . I don't want her to be hung up on me. There needs to be a chance to live her life. Even without me. Especially without me.

[STATEMENT: HONEST: TRUTH OR LIE, IT DOES NOT MATTER; SHE WILL COME AFTER YOU. WHEREVER YOU GO.]

(smiles sadly)

But the lie will hurt less, I think. Just this one time. To protect her.

Anyway, thanks for the help Chopper. Sorry for the sudden shut-down, I'll make it up to you later -

[RECORDING HALTED]

[NOTATION: BACKUP MEMORY FILE CREATED.]

_ _ _ _ _

The comm-tower's interior was deathly silent.

Sabine sat in her chair, staring at Chopper in shock. Her hands were shaking, badly.

"Why - why did you show me this?" she asked, feeling sick.

The astromech replayed a part of the conversation - Ezra, from long ago, struggling to leave her a good-bye message.

"The only way out is through."

The shaking stopped. Her hands, cold and clammy, balled into fists.

"I tried that. For three years," she hissed. "And he still won't leave me. He's still in my veins, making everything hurt."

The astromech just played Ezra's voice again.

"The only way out is through."

She stood up abruptly. "Get out," she snarled. "I don't want to hear this anymore."

Chopper let out a sigh, swiveling around to head for the comm-tower's turbolift to exit. But then he paused at the doorway and started playing another voice - only this time, it was Hera's.

"Hey, Sabine. I know I'm the last person you want to hear after everything that happened - but I found this voice file on Chop's back-up memory banks. Thought you might want to hear it."

Sabine bowed her head, feeling the guilt, anger, and shame weigh down on her shoulders like an invisible weight.

"I know you feel alone right now. I know that you feel like you've lost faith with everything you cared about - and it's because of me, partially. And Ahsoka. And the New Republic."

There was a strange sound emitting from her now. A sob, a scream, she wasn't sure - it was half-strangled in her throat, close to becoming a deathly wail.

"Just know this," Hera continued. "Someone still believes in you. If you lose faith in everything else, don't lose faith in him."

There was a pause. Then -

"And don't lose faith in yourself. Ezra never would. And . . . and happy birthday, Sabine."

Chopper left. The moment the turbo-lift doors closed, she crumpled to the ground, arms folding across her stomach; it felt like everything vital within her was threatening to spill out.

"It didn't hurt less, idiot," she said through gritted teeth. "You lied. You lied!"

After so long, incredibly, Sabine found her fire. Her will to go on.

And it was because she was pissed at Ezra Bridger.

"I'll find you," she whispered, shaking, rising in the gloom of the comm-tower's dark interior. Outside, the Lothal sun was rising on a new day.

Sabine stumbled outside to the railing, feeling the rays of sunlight hit her face. She felt energized, alive, in a way that had long been absent from her life for a long, long while.

Somewhere, a flock of birds were flying against the sun, making for their nesting grounds. Were there birds, wherever he was? Was he still trying to count them?

It didn't matter, she thought. When Sabine found him again - and she would - she would make sure that he saw her for real.

[omg-i-killed-kenny]

Recreating my intro post, here we go...

🌟!!Read before you interact!!🌟

Please DO NOT reblog this post I beg of you, unless you are a Mutual trying to spread this out to other ppl to find my blog. If you have this reblogged WITH PERMISSION and it has been UPDATED. Please delete the reblog and reblog the newer version! Thank you! :)

I loik misteareon, kemny, kayl, curtain, and uh... I like... I like oink he is kewl. But also I like shley. O Im dum I alsu loik bubbers.

(please read)

(last updated: January/7/2025)

Greetings mortals, I'm Kyle (or any other names you wanna call me as long as it's not offensive). I came onto Tumblr to post my art and random aus and stuff I do.

❗WARNING❗

I am a south parkie so there might be suggestive or adult content here, I CAN promise that there WILL NOT be anything truly explicit here.

First before you continue plz reed my niknams 4 da sowth park charactrs

~About me~

My favorite character of all time is Kyle from south park. (Also butters 🤗)

I'm trans aroace and pansexual +panromantic (I only really crush of fictional characters or people I'll never have a chance with)

Pronouns are he/him

-South park fan (so I might post suggestive or adult content but NEVER too explicit)

-I have WAYYYYYYYYYY too many mutuals (about 50 or something, srs not j!) /pos

-I'm always down for a chat, hit me up! 😉

-I'm a very kind person, so I don't mind you venting to me.

-I'm not very sensitive to anything really.

-too many fandoms I'm into! Lol

-i do make some dirty jokes but it won't be often, like I said though; this blog is SFW!!!

-MINOR so please be patient with me, I have school! (I'm under 15)

-I have diagnosed ADHD, autism and ✨schizophrenia✨ :D 👍

-I joined Tumblr at may something 2024!

-i'm a young artist and writer taking art classes!

-dating someone already (taken)

-i beat up a teenager with an umbrella /srs

-i'm tone-deaf when reading so please use tonetags!

-if there's something wrong with me there is obviously something wrong with you because buddy, your wasting your time and breath saying things that aren't true.

-I do curse

-i don't want anybody talking shit about me or threatening me because that has happened before. I don't need any bullshit or drama from the place I come to post my art and relax.

-I like using acronyms and emoticons/emojis :P

-I like being decorative!

-I have pupaphobia which is the fear of puppets!

-i am ALMOST 14!!!!

-my favorite south park shitz are basically all of them except for Stan, nobody likes Stan 💀💀💀💀💀

- I like listening to (really loud) fnf songs! Mostly the new child's play from fnf: pibby: apocalypse or south park: destroyed past! (Both pibby mods, teehee)

- I actually really Fucking hate the ship style. I find them more like brothers than anything. Even though I haven't actually sat down and watched the show for once, but If you're a style shipper we're cool, but if you talk about it to me we're not cool. (WHY IS IT EVEN CANON?!? 😭😭😭)

-I AM NOT ALWAYS ONLINE DUE TO HAVING ABOUT AN HOUR OR MORE A DAY SO PLEASE DO NOT SPAM/SEND THE SAME ASK MORE THAN ONCE

-if you try to start shit with me your bad actions/words will be used against you and shared to the public. My mutuals will see.

Apparently I do not have DNI but just please be nice is all I'm asking.

⭐Fandoms⭐ (not entirely in order)

1. South Park ❄️(I've only seen 2 episodes and a few scenes though, that is my main fandom)

2. Gravity Falls❔

3. Sprunki 🎵

4. Learning with Pibby ◼️

5. Adventure Time 🗡️

6. TAWoG/the amazing world of gumball 🐱

7. Rusty Lake 🚣‍♂️ (horror game series)

8. Undertale 💀

9. Bendy and The Ink Machine 🔏

10. Hazbin Hotel/Helluva boss/Zoophobia 😈 (do not support the creator)

11. Resident Evil 🧟

12. Spooky month 🎃

13. Sonic The Hedgehog 🦔 (very low on this one though)

14. The amazing digital circus 🎪

15. Regular show 🤷

16. Amanda the adventurer 📺

17. Sam and max 🐕🐇 (not much)

18. Friday night funkin (not in the lore etc)

19. FNaF/five nights at Freddy's 🐻

20. TSaMS/the sun and moon show ☀️🌓 (not much)

21. Minecraft (don't know the lore, I just play it)

22. Dandy's world 🌼 (not much)

23. Alan Becker = those stick figure animations and stuff

24. Happy tree friends/htf (never actually sat down and watched through the series, though it's funny. I like gory shit)

25. Hellpark 👿(never read it, but I know it's pretty good)

26. Bunny Maloney 🐇 (not entirely interested but I can talk about it)

I might possibly add more

Commission rules

They are no longer free! But I will do art trades for free!

If you want to buy a commission plz pay me on CashApp (WebstarEnt)

Sideblogs :3

@elyketaruccayllacilbib -- which is some random sideblog I have for literally no reason I guess... Used for posting doodles.

@alex-ventz -- vent blog, mutuals only (which means if I'm following you and you're following me)

@landon-almerandez -- south park oc blog

@kennymccormick-rp-blog -- Kenny blog

@boyofbutter -- butters blog

@adventuretimerulez -- re-blog for Adventure time

@arianaa-lion-blog -- sprunki oc blog

@mystereblogs -- not much but a yapping/reblog acc that's mysterion themed.

Other socials!

Tumblr - omg-i-killed-kenny (but ur already here)

Discord - kyal_izkewl

Wattpad - kyal_izkewl

Roblox - kyal_izkewl

DeviantArt - kyal1zkewl

Pinterest - Kyal_1zkewl

I do not have Instagram nor a YouTube channel yet

✨STENNY✨

KYAL MA BOI 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

South park oc ref sheet if anyone cares. If I request something from you that has to do with him, look in my intro post, right here.

I do have my own discord server for my roleplayer friends so do please check it out!

Again, do not reblog this post unless I allow you too.

[axkirak]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : VII]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: You start a new life on the planet Olega with the man you love. If your life were a novel, this would be the happy ending. But fate never lets you rest. One day, you find yourself facing three unfamiliar Jedi, and one of them, a Jedi Knight named Yord, captures your attention in an inexplicable way.

Status: finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : Since there are more chapters now, if you don’t want to miss any updates, you can ask me to add your username for notifications whenever a new chapter is posted. Just let me know in a reply, and I’ll make sure you’re included in the next update.

ps. I'll be in Singapore for the F1 from this Thursday until next Tuesday, so I'll pause updating my fic for one week. I hope you can wait patiently.

➡  Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

Special OS : Phantom Thread // My mother is my enemy

[Episodes 7] It is impossible to live in the past, difficult to live in the present, and a waste to live in the future.

It’s often said that the safest place is also the most dangerous one. 

Perhaps that’s why Qimir chose to remain hidden on Olega, despite it being home to the Jedi Temple, a major stronghold of the galaxy’s peacekeepers.

For most people, there was no reason to fear the Jedi, who were meant to protect them from harm. But that wasn’t the case for you. You remembered well what Qimir had told you: the Jedi were looking for you, too. Even though their exact motives remained unclear, the sense of paranoia never left your mind. Especially after the massacre on Tatooine, you and Qimir felt like fugitives—always just one step away from being caught if any evidence linking you to the crime surfaced and exposed your secret.

You hated being here. Given a choice, you would have fled to some remote planet at the edge of the galaxy. But Qimir had different ideas. “Most of those who know about your bounty are outlaws or trade federations. Neither group gets along with the Jedi, so they won’t be snooping around places where Jedi gather,” he reasoned. “And the Jedi? They’re too preoccupied with galactic affairs to pay much attention to the planet they’re on. Besides, you don’t have the Force, so finding you would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

Qimir wasn’t wrong. Life on Olega had turned out to be unexpectedly peaceful. Despite the city’s persistent chaos, it made hiding much easier. You and Qimir had managed to stay under the radar for over a year without major problems. Everything had settled so seamlessly that you almost forgot what it was like to be on the run from other planets.

With no need to keep moving, Qimir had shifted from his life as an illegal mercenary to opening a modest pharmacy. He also worked as a broker, selling medicines and various odds and ends to travelers passing through. Meanwhile, you had taken on the role of his assistant and personal apprentice. Qimir was dedicated to teaching you both the theory and practice of his knowledge, especially in combat. He also encouraged you to continue developing your powers rather than suppressing them as you had before. Like your mother, Qimir believed your abilities were too valuable to be wasted.

“Haven’t you ever thought,” Qimir once said, “that someone like you could rise to replace the Jedi one day? With your power, you could bring far more to the galaxy than they ever could.”

His words seemed absurd, like a far-fetched joke meant to tease you. You laughed every time, confident that such a thing would never happen.

Never getting involved with the Jedi, no matter what, had always been your rule for survival.

But sometimes, fate can be cruelly ironic, and this was a joke that wasn’t amusing at all.

That's what occurs at noon on a Friday—one of fate's cruel jokes when you unexpectedly find yourself face-to-face with a group of Jedi.

It all takes place at Qimir’s pharmacy on a day he isn’t around. Lately, he has been disappearing more frequently—sometimes for two or three hours, or even the better part of a day—claiming he has business to attend to involving herbal shipments from other planets. As a result, you’re left to run the store in his absence, handling the medicines and assisting customers as usual.

But everything changes the moment the shop’s bell rings and the door swings open. Brilliant sunlight floods the store, heralding the arrival of three strangers you’ve never seen before.

One of them is a teenage theelin-human hybrid girl, with paper-white skin adorned with spots and orange hair with small horns encircling her head like a crown. The other two are human men—one middle-aged, with long black hair tied in a half-ponytail, his face stern and serious; the other younger, with sharp features, sun-bronzed skin, and a tall, muscular frame, likely not much older than you.

They couldn’t be more different from each other, except for their identical attire. They’re dressed in light yellow tunics, covered by long brown robes, and each wears a large belt with the unmistakable emblem of the Jedi Order.

Jedi—The realization hits you like a bolt of lightning the moment your eyes land on their belts, and you instinctively draw in a sharp breath.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, composing yourself with practiced ease. Lifting your head from behind the counter, you address them with a polite, businesslike smile. “How may I assist the three of you today?”

The older man, likely a Jedi Master, introduces himself with courtesy as Sol, while the young girl, his Padawan, is named Jecki. The other young man, a Jedi Knight, is introduced as Yord. “We’re here on a mission,” Sol informs you, his voice laced with concern. “We’re investigating a serious incident that occurred in this city.”

You have no idea what serious incident he’s referring to or how severe it must be to involve the Jedi. For a moment, your mind jumps to the possibility that it might be connected to you—until Jecki explains further, warning you to keep the information strictly confidential.

It turns out that the serious incident is a series of murders currently happening on Olega. Four bodies in four months—each victim a high-ranking Jedi responsible for overseeing the temple here.

"Since the incident is still recent, the killer might be someone who just moved here or snuck into the city illegally," Sol continues. "There are many of these types around the spaceports, which is why we need to increase security in those areas to ensure the safety of the citizens."

You can tell Sol's words hold only a half truth. The Jedi aren't particularly concerned about the lives of citizens since the killer's targets are not random people but specifically high-ranking Jedi.

The presence of the three Jedi at the pharmacy today is no coincidence. As a newcomer here, you're automatically placed among the suspects, though none of them have the nerve to say it outright to your face.

Understanding this, you begin to relax a little. After all, you have nothing to do with these murders, so there's no reason to worry. You just need to play along with the Jedi's charade until it's over.

Sol, the group's leader, takes charge of questioning you, with Jecki also taking part in the interrogation. Most of their questions are basic: had you noticed anything strange or seen any unusual people recently? They also delve into your personal history—your identity, background, and reasons for ending up on this planet.

You respond naturally, mixing truth with lies, careful not to arouse suspicion. You're confident in your ability to act convincingly—that is, until you sense the sharp gaze of the one Jedi in the group who hasn’t said a word.

You furrow your brow, the intense scrutiny from the Jedi named Yord making you increasingly uncomfortable. You try to ignore him, but there's something inexplicably magnetic about his presence—an instinctive urge that draws you to meet his gaze.

At first, you think he's trying to catch you in a lie, but when you see his expression, you're surprised.

He’s not scrutinizing you for deception—he’s staring at you in shock, as if you’re some kind of ghost.

As you peer deeply into his brown eyes with curiosity, time seems to stretch unnaturally long. You find yourself not looking at the present but plunging into the past. Every moment flashes before your eyes like pages of a book flipping by—one year, ten years, a hundred years, up to a thousand years.

Suddenly, your consciousness is yanked back to the present. You startle as your entire body trembles with the icy chill sweeping over you. Pain surges through you like a jolt of electricity, followed by the sticky sensation of blood trickling from your nose.

You know exactly what’s happening. The side effects of your vision are punishing you for seeing what was not meant to be seen.

Closing your eyes, you take slow, deep breaths, trying to steady yourself and acclimate to the pain. As your senses return, you hear Sol’s concerned voice. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine," you quickly reply, shaking your head while wiping the blood from your nose with a handkerchief. You feign composure, even though the lingering pain continues to gnaw at you from within.

Sol looks at you with disbelief, but he doesn’t press further. His face betrays concern, and you can’t help but think how fitting he is as a Jedi. His every gesture screams 'purity' If goodness had a color, this man would be the brightest white—so blinding it hurts to look at.

The awkward silence breaks as Sol clears his throat, returning to the topic at hand. “We still don’t have any more leads on the perpetrator, other than the fact that they’re highly skilled with weapons—probably a former soldier or maybe...” He trails off, as if he almost let something slip, but catches himself just in time. "Anyway, if you find any suspicious leads, don’t hesitate to contact me or any other Jedi.”

You watch as Sol places a thin metal card on the counter before bidding you farewell with the classic phrase, "May the Force be with you." He and the other Jedi then leave the pharmacy quietly.

You reach for the card, running your fingers along its cold metallic edge. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s an electronic contact card, storing his information. The front clearly reads, ‘Sol, Human, Jedi Master.

For a brief moment, you consider throwing it far away, but something compels you to tuck it into your pocket instead.

The sun slowly sinks, signaling the approach of evening. Hours have passed, but you're still lost in thought, pondering the group of Jedi you encountered—especially Sol’s story of the horrifying Jedi murder case. Though it has nothing to do with you directly, you can't shake the unease creeping into your mind. It's an inexplicable feeling of foreboding, devoid of any logical reason, as if instinct itself is whispering from deep within, warning you to be cautious. Yet you have no idea what or whom you should be wary of.

And then, there's another matter weighing heavily on your mind—the Jedi Knight named Yord.

His name has settled deep into your thoughts, etched onto your lips. A strange sense of familiarity fills your chest, as though you’ve known him before, despite seeing his face and hearing his name for the first time today.

How odd you think, fragments of a past you can barely recall flicker in your mind, disjointed and unclear. You want to focus your power on a vision, to delve deeper into the memory, but your body is too frail. It would only bring more pain. All you can do now is predict the hazy path of the future, as far as your bruised mind will allow.

You close your eyes, adjusting your breathing to a slow, steady rhythm. You let your mind sink into the stream of consciousness of possible futures.

There’s a ninety percent chance.

Certainty rises inside you—the answer you seek will come when you meet him again... soon.

The Bene Gesserit meditation gradually envelops your mind, nurturing it with such calm and a cold, almost numb detachment. Your fingers gently brush against the knife hidden in your cloak, recognizing that it may become necessary if things spiral out of control.

You step toward the front door of the shop, hand reaching for the handle, but a sudden hesitation grips you, freezing you in place.

A moment of silence surrounds you. You feel like a fish swimming towards a hook, drawn into a dangerous situation you shouldn't be involved with. The closer you get, the harder it becomes to turn back.

But in the end, you open the door anyway.

You stand there, waiting for something to happen. It doesn’t take long before someone grabs your arm, pulling you swiftly into the narrow alley beside the shop, hidden from the bustling street.

Your back hits the wooden wall of a nearby house—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to knock the wind out of you. You look up, meeting Yord's eyes with a calm expression, showing no sign of surprise. You know he is waiting for you, just as you are waiting for him.

“Be careful. You’re in a place you shouldn’t be,” he warns in a firm voice. “Get out while you still can.”

That’s all he says before releasing your shoulder and quickly walking back to the street, disappearing into the crowd while you stay still, watching his broad back in the yellow Jedi uniform fade from view.

In that moment, it's as if a veil of uncertainty is lifted, revealing a truth you had suspected before.

You are certain now. That Jedi can see the future—just like you.[1]

Footnotes:

[1] In Star Wars canon, some Jedi can see the future, but only a few—usually masters with strong Force abilities like Yoda (though as he got older, his visions became less reliable). You can see that Jedi powers and the Bene Gesserit abilities are somewhat similar (because Dune inspired Star Wars). However, in this fic, the author wanted to create a special distinction between the Reader (who is a Bene Gesserit) and the Jedi, so regular Jedi can’t have visions like the Reader. Yord’s case is unique and will have significant importance to the plot later on.

[mostlycorrectdipandpip]

Let's talk about dnptwt

Ok, I created this little shit-posting blog to connect with other phannies and get back into this comfy little fandom. Along with this, I started connecting with dnptwt on my main account. I don't like getting involved in drama, especially when it revolves around blatant racisim, homophobia, transphobia, genocide sympathizers, etc, but I feel like it needs to be said here. I am only going to speak on this once, but if you have questions on my experience or just want to call me out, feel free to message or anonymously inbox me, that is your right as I am posting this openly and publicly.

Dnptwt is NOT a safe place. I genuinely believe that the internet is not a safe place. I wish that it was because access to the internet has become so common and widespread. People can connect on so many levels and share their experiences, but EVERYONE can do it. Republican, democrat, gay, straight, conversative, liberal. EVERYONE. But, over the last few months, dnptwt has become so negative and toxic. Every day someone is being called out for their behavior and, many times, the calling out is warranted. They have said or done something that they need to be called out on. It's the aftermath and the snowballing afterwards that has gotten out of hand.

I am a very positive person. I believe that everyone, at anytime in their lives, can learn and grow and change. We are constantly learning new things and having new experiences. When people say something hateful or negative or they participate in something bad or that you don't agree with, you have every right to call them out on it. Point out the hateful and negative behavior, but just because someone does or says something doesn't mean that they are irredeemable. Spitting hateful rhetoric and being hateful towards people is the exact kind of thing that we want to stop and correct. So when you call someone out for something, call them out and see if they take the initiative to learn or change before you start an unyielding bullying campaign against them. You can choose how you react to that person, if you believe them, and if you want to continue to interact with them. That is your right as a social media user. But to start a campaign where you tell everyone that someone is disgusting and irredeemable before giving them a chance to reflect, relearn, and respond is absolutely crazy.

At the end of the day, what I am trying to say is that in order for people to grow, they need to learn. In order for someone to genuinely apologize, they need to learn what they have done wrong and find it in themselves to change, but this isn't something that someone can do overnight. And it isn't something someone can do while they are being attacked from all sides. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to say how they feel and why it makes them feel that way for someone to realize that they have made a mistake.

I'll call myself out for y'all to get what I mean. I grew up in a very conservative household. I grew up in a household that sprayed hateful rhetoric and had terribly homophobic and racist beliefs. It wasn't until someone in middle school called me out for it. It wasn't nice or sugar coated, just a direct interaction. I dealt with some fallout for sure, but over the rest of that year, I took the opportunity to learn and change how I acted, how I talked, and how I spoke to my classmates and I was able to repair alot of burned bridges and become a more well rounded person.

I fear everyday that the hate I used to spread and the negativity I once had will come back to bite me. I would have to answer for those actions, and I would, and I would have to prove to people that I have changed (and I have). But with the kind of environment that dnptwt has become, I would be shunned, shamed, categorized and irredeemable, and tossed to the side without being able to reflect, relearn, and respond.

This environment is unacceptable. And it is something that I will no longer be taking part in. Give people the space to be wrong, to fail, and to make right.

Just getting this out has helped me feel a little bit better, am I am sure that this will end up on dnptwt and I'll get doused in their hate and vitriol, but to stand silent and watch more and more people who just need some time to get educated and learn would have made me feel so bad. I'm taking some time to reflect on my own actions and time spent on twitter, learn about ways that I can better use my time and energy, and will respond again if I feel it necessary, but I think I've said my piece.