#but its always fun to wake up and find that you wrote a fic you dont remember writing

[neopuff]

title: feelings word count: ~2400 ships: six/holiday summary: Six can't stop thinking about Holiday. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51082099

It was those moments where she wasn’t trying - where she wasn’t doing anything particularly impressive or amazing - that Six felt himself drawn to her the most. Seeing his coworker, his partner, his friend - just sitting on a bench and going over her notes or her schedule or whatever the hell she was reading…she was mesmerizing.

Six was embarrassed at first, by how much he enjoyed watching her. Somehow it felt like he was disrespecting her or mistreating her just by having such a significant attachment to her so quickly. But he gradually started to understand that she was simply…magnetic.

He was attracted to her immediately when he lost his memories, and then learned to lighten up at her discomfort. But the months they spent together after Rex’s disappearance just enhanced his already growing feelings.

The sixth deadliest man in the world wasn’t supposed to develop feelings like that.

But Rebecca Holiday had that effect on people. He wondered sometimes if he was one of many to fall for her, or if he was just lucky enough to know her better than most.

He’d known her for over a year, by her side almost the entire time, and wondered how his older self - the previous version of Six, the one that had the chance to introduce himself to her for the very first time - was able to work with her for so long without breaking. In less than a year, he’d fallen for her so hard that he felt almost spellbound. 

He felt an urge to say or do something about it, especially knowing that she had some sort of feelings for him as well - but instead he continued to sit still.

The risk was palpable. Though she had feelings for him, Six didn’t know the extent of it and he didn’t know if that meant she actually wanted to be with him. Maybe she wanted to be with the old version of him, or maybe she was just lonely and he was there. And Six didn’t want to misinterpret or pressure her when he wasn’t sure what their status was. It’d taken him a long time to understand his own feelings, he couldn’t imagine how complicated it was for her.

Not that she seemed to spend much time thinking about it. Six’s body was always busy - he did as many odd jobs as he could over the past year to keep them afloat while living at The Plant. But the jobs were often tedious or dull and his mind would wander. They’d wander onto Rex’s situation, or Knight’s secrecy, and then they’d wander onto Holiday and from there, he’d be stuck.

Holiday’s mind was always busy. She was always working on something, something to find or track Rex, then working on the EVO cure same as always, working on trying to extract all nanites from a living being without hurting them, working on ways to imitate Rex’s powers so the kid could live a normal teenage life. She never stopped. So Six was under the impression that she didn’t spend a lot of her limited free time thinking about him or them and it’d be narcissistic of him to assume she’d made up her mind.

Still…he was only human. And he was in love with her. And she was always there.

Sometimes he didn’t want to keep his mouth shut anymore. Sometimes he just wanted to put it all out there - let her deal with his feelings instead of him having to sit and wallow in them. But he wasn’t sure if that was unfair to her or not.

The insecurity of everything between them was the primary agent against telling her how he felt.

He just wasn’t sure what was fair. Their current situation didn’t seem fair for either of them, but he wasn’t sure if there was a simple way to keep them on even ground. He didn’t want to have any power over her, but he also didn’t like the power she inadvertently had over him.

She didn’t even have to do anything, and he’d be struck by her all the same.

At the moment, she was sitting on a bench in her lab, small work table in front of her. She was holding a tablet and using her pointer finger to scroll and click and organize and whatever else she was doing, and there were loose strands of hair falling from her bun that caught Six’s gaze. He was also sitting on the bench, though not too close to her, and leaning his arms against his knees.

“Caesar’s bringing a whole big container of molecular scanners, so we’re probably covered there…”

He listened closely while she mumbled - going through the list of things she needed for her upcoming trip. Her upcoming trip with Caesar, which Six thought was an insane concept, but Caesar was still partially working for Providence while they were in the transitory stage of battling EVOs to focusing on safe nanite removal and destruction without reactivation.

Six wasn’t coming along since he and Rex had another mission to attend to, so he was sitting with Holiday in an attempt to soak up as much of her presence as possible before going a week without seeing her. As pathetic as that thought made him feel, Six did not like going without seeing her for more than a day or two. It made him uncomfortable. He got uncharacteristically worried. And she was not good at communicating her status when she was busy working, which didn’t help.

He stayed silent as she mumbled other list items. She wasn’t really talking to him anyway, she was just talking out loud to fill the silent lab. With the threat of EVOs all-but-neutralized, Providence funding had decreased significantly and there were a lot less scientists and grunts running around to help Dr. Holiday with her work. He wondered sometimes if she missed her big lab crew or if she’d gotten used to working alone after all their time at The Plant.

“Probably won’t be leaving the base much, so I don’t really need to bring a big coat…”

Six leaned back, letting his head gently rest against the wall behind him, and shoved his hands into his pockets. He glanced at Holiday’s profile out of the corner of his eye - didn’t want to be too obvious about staring at her. Though she had every reason to assume he was watching her. Why else would he be in the room if not to interact with her?

She was scrolling, focused on another device or piece of clothing she needed to bring with, when Six found himself captivated once again. Some of the hair that was sticking out of her bun fell out completely and started hanging there along the side of her neck. His eyes were drawn to it and he didn’t feel like being subtle anymore - Six turned his head completely and watched her while she spoke.

“...yeah, probably not. I don’t think that’ll be necessary. What do you think, Six?”

His eyes stayed trained on her lips while she spoke - Holiday didn’t look at him when she asked her question, almost like she didn’t realize she’d asked it. Her tongue poked out to moisten her lips for a brief moment, and Six felt his resolve melting.

“I think…I have feelings for you,” he said suddenly.

“Hm?” was Holiday’s only response as she continued to scroll on the tablet. She turned slightly towards him, though her gaze stayed trained on the device in her hands. “What’s up?”

Six knew he wasn’t thinking straight in that moment. The combination of her intoxicating presence combined with the knowledge that he wouldn’t see her for at least a week was short-circuiting his brain. Despite the fact that she wasn’t really paying attention to him and probably still wouldn’t after he responded again, Six knew he wasn’t going to stop.

“I’m in love with you.”

Her gaze wavered. She blinked down at the tablet, then glared at the screen, looking immensely confused. Then she whipped her head towards him and stared at Six with those beautiful green eyes that always managed to catch him off-guard. “What…huh? What?”

It wasn’t exactly a positive response. But he’d made his bed and now he had no choice but to lie in it. With that thought, however, Six didn’t plan on staying in the room and embarrassing himself further. “Just thought you should know,” he mumbled as he stood up and walked to the door.

There were several moments where the only sound in that lab was his light footsteps. Holiday had been stunned speechless and his ears were filled with the drum beats of his pounding heart. There was no need to stay behind any longer, he’d said what he said. No taking it back. 

The ball was in her court.

“Wh-wait, Six, where are you-?!”

Her heels clacked loudly against the tiled floor as she ran over and grabbed his hand - wrapping her fingers around his wrist and palm. There was an uneven sound to her breathing that caught Six’s ears.

He turned slightly towards her and was surprised (though he shouldn’t have been, he really shouldn’t have been) to see a deep blush across her cheeks. She was frowning and staring up at him almost pleadingly.

“Is that…is that it? You’re just going to say that and walk away?”

Six turned more, feeling his hand slide naturally into hers and deciding not to do anything about that. “I didn’t want to bother you anymore before you leave.”

“Bother?” She looked absolutely baffled by his response. “Six, you’re not…you couldn’t bother me. But why the hell are you telling me this now?”

His heart was beating exceptionally fast and it was making his chest hurt. Six didn’t know if honesty was the cure, but so far it seemed to be making Holiday happy, at least. He figured it was worth a shot to continue. “I wanted to,” was the simplest answer he could give her.

He stared down at her while she stared up at him - her eyes widened slightly at his words and the blush on her face deepened. Then she shyly glanced downward, distinctly staring at his lips - then drew her gaze away to the floor, then back up at his eyes.

And to the floor again.

Shy wasn’t a word he’d ever thought would describe Dr. Rebecca Holiday. She usually seemed very competent and confident, though he supposed he just hadn’t seen her in a situation where it’d make sense to be shy. Not since they were infiltrated by Scarecrow, though that was a very different scenario. Not really comparable to where they were now.

The smarter part of his brain understood her signals. He understood completely that she wanted to kiss him, but more than that - she wanted him to kiss her. And Six wanted to kiss her, he really did. But the idea of closing the space between them and altering their relationship forever (even moreso than his confession did) made it hard for him to move his hands. He wanted her. Of course he wanted her. But being with her meant it’d be that much easier to lose her and he wouldn’t be able to stand that.

Seconds flew by while they stood next to each other, both trying to figure out the next move. And each of those seconds felt like ten minutes, and it was both agonizing and exhilarating trying to figure out who’d go for it.

Holiday closed her eyes and took a deep breath, squeezing Six’s hand with her own. He couldn’t tell exactly what she was going to do or say, though he had a feeling she’d berate him for not taking the initiative and kissing her while the moment was right.

Instead of that, though, she suddenly grabbed his tie near the top and tugged on it, forcing his head down far enough for her to reach. And in that moment, as his lips crashed into hers, Six felt any fears about their relationship shedding away. He cupped her face with his free hand and deepened their kiss, desperately hoping she wouldn’t pull away. His heart had never felt so full as it did in that moment and he did not want it to end.

She removed her hand from his and reached both hands up to his lapels, pulling him as close to her as possible while their lips moved against each other. Six then wrapped his newly freed hand around her waist and held her against him, trying not to get distracted by thoughts of where this moment could lead.

Just as that thought came to his mind, Holiday pulled away and plopped back down onto her feet - their height difference had never been more noticeable to him. He watched her as she sighed dreamily and lightly patted his chest.

“Okay. Okay, good,” she said thoughtfully, breaking the silence. Then she pulled away further, headed back to the tablet she left on the table. “I have to finish getting ready, but we’re going to talk about this when I get back, alright?”

Six stared at her, still mesmerized.

He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought that letting her know how he felt would give him power over her. Clearly, he could not have been more wrong - she had every upper hand now, even more than she did before.

Holiday grabbed her tablet and walked back towards him, holding it against her chest. She paused before the door opened and smiled up at him, tugging a bit of hair behind her ear. “I’m really glad you said something, Six.”

“Me, too.” And he meant it.

Her smile looked positively impish for just a moment and then suddenly she was out the door, leaving Six alone with his foolish, idiotic thoughts. He kept wanting to insult himself - kept trying to understand exactly what was going through his head that led him to say such a thing. But he also didn’t really care anymore. Holiday said they’d talk when she got back, and that meant they were going to talk.

She hadn’t even left yet, and he was already waiting for her to get back.

He shoved his hands into his pockets again and glanced around the lab. It all just made him think about her more, so he closed his eyes, sighed, and headed out the door. He needed to burn off some adrenaline.

[nayziiz]

Ghost | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader (you)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

You loved Lando's apartment, from its scenic views over the city to the beautiful features. The large floor-to-ceiling windows provided a breathtaking panorama of the bustling city below, each sunrise and sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. It was a beautiful home, blending modern aesthetics with a touch of rustic charm, perfectly embodying Lando's refined yet adventurous spirit.

The open-plan living area was your favourite, with its sleek, contemporary furniture and tasteful decor. The walls were adorned with art pieces that told stories of far-off places and thrilling adventures. You especially admired the collection of Lando's helmets on display, each one a testament to his daring exploits. The helmets, meticulously arranged on custom-built shelves each with its own unique history.

You were more than happy to move in with him in that stunning home when he asked. The thought of sharing such a magnificent space with someone you loved was beyond thrilling. It was a dream to live with him, to wake up every morning to the sight of his smile and the breathtaking view of the city. The spacious kitchen, with its state-of-the-art appliances and cosy breakfast nook, became a place where you both enjoyed cooking, or at least where you cook and he watches offering limited help.

In the evenings, the living room transformed into a haven of relaxation. You and Lando would cuddle up on the plush, oversized sofa, the city lights twinkling outside as you watched movies or discussed your day. The ambiance was always warm and inviting, thanks to the soft lighting and the gentle hum of the city below.

Living with Lando was an adventure in itself. His spontaneous nature meant that some days were often filled with impromptu trips or fun activities. Yet, there was also a comforting routine to your lives. The morning runs through the nearby park, the coffee brewed just the way you liked it, and the quiet moments of shared contentment made it all the more special. Lando's apartment was more than just a place to live; it was a home filled with love, laughter, and countless memories waiting to be made.

You had spent ample time in his apartment before, but when you moved in, things were just a little bit different. The first couple of weeks were fine, then suddenly, you heard doors slamming shut whenever Lando was away for a race weekend. The sound echoed through the empty apartment, sharp and jarring, disrupting the peaceful silence you had come to cherish. You couldn't explain or justify the sounds, since nothing seemed out of place, so you let it go, brushing it off as your imagination playing tricks on you. Then you would enter the kitchen or bathroom and find cupboard doors and drawers open, items seemingly displaced from where you remembered leaving them. You wrote that off as you forgetting to shut it previously or perhaps absentmindedly leaving things open. It was little, subtle things, but it was wearing you out. Each unexplained occurrence chipped away at your sense of security.

You could barely sleep at night because it sounded like someone was walking down the hallway. The soft creaks of the floorboards, the subtle shifts in the air, all played into your growing unease. Your mind conjured images of shadows lurking just out of sight, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end at the slightest noise. Your paranoia was out of hand, a constant, nagging presence that gnawed at your peace of mind. You didn't know how to tell Lando that you now hated the apartment, that the once beautiful home had become a source of dread and anxiety. The fear of being seen as irrational or overly sensitive kept you silent, even as the unease grew.

You tried to rationalise it, to find logical explanations for the things happening around you. Maybe the building was settling, you told yourself. Maybe there were drafts causing the doors to move. But the explanations felt hollow, unable to quell the growing sense of something being off. Lando's absence during race weekends only exacerbated the feeling of isolation. The once thrilling independence now felt like a burden, the empty spaces of the apartment amplifying your fears. You longed for his presence, for the comfort and reassurance he brought, but you didn't want to add to his stress or distract him from his career.

Every time he asked how you were, you forced a smile and said you were fine, hiding the sleepless nights and the creeping dread. It became a silent struggle, one you faced alone, hoping desperately that it was all in your head and that things would go back to normal.

The strange thing was, whenever he was home, nothing would happen. It would be the most peaceful time, the apartment returning to its former serene and welcoming state. The sounds that haunted you, the mysterious movements, all ceased as if banished by his presence. You found solace in those moments, the warmth and safety of his company dissolving your fears.

When Lando was home, you felt the apartment's true charm come alive once again. The panoramic views of the city seemed even more breathtaking, the gentle hum of the urban landscape outside a comforting background to your conversations and shared laughter. His presence brought a sense of normalcy, making you question whether the unsettling events were just figments of your imagination.

Yet, this peace came with a shadow of dread. You knew that the tranquillity was temporary, lasting only until his next departure. Each time he prepared for a race weekend, a knot formed in your stomach, a mix of anxiety and reluctance to face the eerie silence alone. You dreaded the moment he had to leave you there by yourself, the impending solitude amplifying your fears. As he packed his bags and went through his pre-race routine, you tried to mask your apprehension, offering supportive smiles and encouragement. Inside, though, you braced yourself for the nights ahead, mentally preparing for the return of the inexplicable disturbances.

When the door closed behind him, the apartment's atmosphere seemed to shift almost immediately. The once cosy and inviting space took on an unfamiliar, almost oppressive feel. You tried to keep busy, filling your days with work and hobbies, but the quiet evenings brought back the unsettling sensations. You avoided certain areas of the apartment, particularly the kitchen and bathroom, where the unexplained occurrences were most frequent. Your nights were restless, every creak and groan of the building fuelling your paranoia. You kept the lights on, hoping that the brightness would ward off whatever seemed to lurk in the shadows.

During one of Lando's streams, you were in the kitchen preparing some of his favourite snacks. The familiar hum of his voice filtered through the apartment as he interacted with his fans, his enthusiasm infectious even from a distance. You felt a sense of pride and contentment, knowing how much joy he brought to others.

As you sliced some vegetables, your mind wandered, replaying the inexplicable events that had been plaguing you. Lost in thought, you didn't notice a knife teetering on the edge of the countertop. Suddenly, it slipped off, crashing to the floor with a sharp clatter. The unexpected noise jolted you, and a scream escaped your lips before you could contain it. In an instant, the peaceful moment shattered. Lando's voice cut off mid-sentence on the stream, and you heard the hurried sounds of him abandoning his setup. Within seconds, he burst into the kitchen, eyes wide with concern. He found you shaking, still reeling from the shock, tears brimming in your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"We need to move, Lando, for fuck's sake. I can't anymore," you tell him, your voice shaky and with tears threatening to fall.

"What happened?" he asked again, trying to understand your reaction. "Are you hurt?"

"We have a ghost in the apartment," you inform him.

"A ghost?" he repeated, almost chuckling at the thought of you being scared of a ghost.

“Lan, now is not a good time to patronise me,” you warned him. “Things keep moving or blowing over. There are no windows open and the wind is not blowing, so what could it possibly be?”

His expression shifted, the hint of a smile fading as he saw the genuine fear in your eyes.

“I'll start looking for a new apartment, I promise,” Lando countered, seeing the turmoil brewing in your eyes. You wouldn't have reacted that way if you weren't truly freaked out.

“You believe me?” you asked, confused by his sudden change of heart.

“Honey, if you say there is a ghost, there's a fucking ghost, and we're not staying with a ghost,” Lando told you and cupped your cheek, calming your restlessness with a minor touch.

His words and touch brought a wave of relief. You leaned into his palm, feeling the warmth and comfort that only he could provide.

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Lando pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms a fortress around you.

“We'll find a new place, somewhere you can feel safe and happy,” he assured you. “In the meantime, I'll stay with you as much as possible. If not, we book you into a hotel or get someone to stay over with you.”

As your heartbeat slowly returned to normal, you felt a mix of relief and embarrassment. You looked up at him, your eyes searching for reassurance.

“I'm sorry for interrupting your stream,” you apologised.

“Don't worry about that,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You come first, always.”

For a moment, the kitchen felt less daunting, the shadows less threatening. With Lando by your side, the fear seemed more manageable, the inexplicable occurrences less overwhelming. He helped you clean up the mess, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to your earlier panic. As you worked together, the familiar rhythm of your routine returned, the bond between you strengthening with each shared task.

[sugarcoated-lame]

Wake Up Call

Joel Miller x Female Reader

pre-outbreak Joel x reader

All of my works are 18+ minors dni!

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Joel knows you’re not a morning person, so he often loves to help you wake up in way that you’ll both enjoy.

or

slow, sleepy morning smut with Joel :)

WC: 3200

Warnings: i’m terrible at titles and summaries i know, this is basically just smut (18+), established relationship, fluff, cuddly joel, smut, somnophilia (kinda?), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, biting ? (joel bites reader’s shoulder once), a hint of overstimulation, use of a few pet names (sweetheart, darlin’, baby), no use of y/n or description of reader’s physical appearance, moodboard is not indicative of reader’s appearance, joel’s morning voice and joel saying “good girl” in said morning voice deserve a warning. let me know if there’s any I missed! x

a/n: this was my first time writing an actual fic for Joel, so please be nice <3 this was based on some thots that I wrote for an ask that my beloved @sebsxphia sent me 🧡 this was so self-indulgent and I had such a fun time writing it and making the moodboard, I hope y’all enjoy reading!! happy reading, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 🧡

Joel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

•

•

It’s a Monday morning like any other. The sun is still rising in the sky, languidly illuminating the world in its hazy golden glow, and you find yourself waking up the same way you do most mornings as of late.

Eyes slowly blinking open to the steadily brightening light that’s begun to make its way through the too-sheer curtains that cover Joel’s bedroom window, a broad chest pressed to your back, and soft breaths blown into the crook of your neck and moving a few strands of your hair along with them.

A strong arm is wrapped around your middle; one big palm splayed across the skin of your belly beneath your—his— t-shirt while the other rests underneath your pillow.

You’re growing used to waking up to Joel’s warmth radiating through you with all the nights you spend in his bed these days, his legs entangled with yours beneath the blankets that had been kicked further down the bed in the night, the extra warmth not needed when you’re completely encapsulated by the furnace that is Joel.

It’s still early as the two of you begin to stir, a while yet before either one of your alarms are set to go off and pull you from the comfort of each other’s embrace and Joel’s plush bed, and into readying yourselves for the upcoming workday.

 The arm around your waist tightens as you slowly begin to wake. Joel burrows further into the crook of your neck, scruffy beard tickling at the skin of your shoulder where his shirt has fallen loose in your sleep, the action one that’s grown to be of great comfort for you.  

Joel’s always been an early riser. All the nights spent together over the months that you’ve been together now, he’s always woken up before you.

He has an alarm clock, but you never understand why he bothers to set it in the first place. His internal clock is always waking him up naturally as the sun comes up, and approximately thirty minutes before Sarah wakes up for school.

Not that you’re complaining, though, because you’ve come to appreciate the slow and natural way you wake up with Joel.

His flurry of kisses to any patch of bare skin he can find, and the warmth of his broad chest pressed against your back always wake you up gently. It’s a routine you’ve come to love, miles better than any loud alarm.

Though Joel can never seem to sleep later than the sun, he loves it because it means he gets to spend a few extra moments just admiring your peacefully sleeping form.

He knows you’re not a morning person, that you love your sleep and hate nothing more than to be woken up by the shrill ringing on an alarm.

So, another benefit of Joel waking up before you is that he gets to wake you up slowly, gently, snuggling into you and littering your skin with kisses that he knows will bring about that sleepy smile that he loves so much as you begin to stir.

Joel’s morning voice is gruff and somehow even deeper than it already is normally as he turns to nuzzle his nose into your neck, pressing a feather soft kiss to the skin just below your ear.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. How’d you sleep?”

In your still half-asleep state, you just barely grace him with a sleepy hum of acknowledgement before pressing your body back against his, cuddling further into his warmth and beginning to drift off again, not quite ready to wake up yet.

Since Joel knows that getting up early is not even close to your favorite thing to do, he often loves to wake you in a way that he knows you’ll both enjoy.

So, it’s no surprise to you when you begin to be pulled further from your slumber by the feeling of his arms retreating from around you, the loss of the comforting heat of his body against yours causing the tiniest of whimpers to escape your lips.

Joel smirks—though he knows you can’t see it through your still-closed eyes—those strong arms turning you onto your back before his body is sliding further down the bed.

Before you know it, gentle kisses are being pressed to your knees, leading a trail up to your inner thighs, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching lightly against your skin as he makes his way up towards where your panty-covered core has already begun to flutter in anticipation.

Calloused palms reach under your thighs and they’re no sooner being parted by the width of Joel’s broad shoulders, his plush lips pecking along the skin where your thigh meets your hip. Languidly making their way up to your hip bones, dotting a sweet kiss to both before descending.

Nosing along the cotton of your underwear, Joel sends a shudder through your entire body when he brushes over the damp spot that’s begun to darken the fabric.

Taking in your heady scent with a groan, his lips press a single kiss there before the warmth of his tongue laves against your seam through the thin fabric and pulls another sleepy whine from your parted lips.

Joel’s rough fingers dip under the waistband as he reaches up to pull them down your thighs, letting out a low groan as he slowly reveals your core, all pretty and glistening just for him.

You’re still not fully awake when he licks into you. His tongue white hot as it licks a broad stripe up to your clit, mixed with the pleasant burn of his facial hair scraping against the soft skin of your inner thighs, has your hips bucking against his mouth and quiet whimpers leaving your lips even in your still-sleepy state. Joel can’t help but growl at the taste of you.

His strong arms wrap around your thighs to hold you in place, to keep you open wide for him as he fucks you with his tongue, and it’s only when he sucks your sensitive bundle of nerves between those plush lips that you fully awaken on a broken cry.

With your eyes squeezed shut now from pleasure, one of your hands reaches down blindly into his soft, sleep-mussed curls as his tongue swirls around your clit in firm, tight circles.

You’re already getting close to reaching your high when your eyes finally open and you peer down to see Joel.

The bottom half of his face is slightly obscured under the covers as he makes his way back down to your entrance—the tip of his nose brushing against your clit and rendering you dizzy while his tongue laps up the gush of arousal there, and those deep, chocolate eyes boring into your sleep-hazy ones as one hand leaves your thigh so that one of his thick fingers can join his tongue.

Joel turns to press a kiss to your inner thigh, and you can feel his slight smirk against your skin along with the tickle of his beard as he murmurs a quiet “Mornin’, baby.”

The deep, raspy drawl of his morning voice has you clenching down around his finger as it pushes into you, pulling a breathy whine from you as your own fingers tighten their hold in his hair, and you’re barely able to get out a shaky good morning back to him.

In the tranquil, early morning quiet of Joel’s bedroom, you both can hear just how wet you are for him. The deep groan he lets out mixes with your breathless cries as you both listen to the squelch of his digit sliding in and out of you.

“Ya hear that?” Joel’s lips press again to your inner thigh. “So wet for me, darlin’. Were you dreaming of me?”

It’s all you can do in your hazy state to let out a hum of agreement and nod, not trusting your voice as his words and his thick finger pull you closer to that edge.

Joel’s cheek still rests along the smooth skin of your thigh as he turns his gaze upward to watch your face while his finger continues its ministrations. He nearly growls at the sight—your head thrown back and hair spread messily across his pillows. Brows furrowed and eyes clenched shut in pleasure, your perfect lips parted and letting out the prettiest sounds as he works you over.

“Joel— fuck.” You can’t help the desperate moan that escapes your parted lips as Joel adds in a second finger and crooks them just right. Turning your face into the pillows to quiet the sound—his daughter is still sleeping right down the hall, after all—your hips buck toward him of their own volition and push his fingers even deeper as they prod against that spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Doing so good for me, baby.’ Joel praises with one last peck to your thigh, before he turns his head to press a lingering kiss to your swollen clit that sends a jolt up your spine.  

Then, he’s trailing back down toward your entrance, drawing another gasp from you as the tip of his nose just barely grazes your clit. You can’t help but whine at the loss of his fingers as Joel pulls them from your core, your walls clenching around nothing for only a moment before the warmth of his tongue takes their place.

Joel laps up some of your wetness with a groan that sends shockwaves through your core before his tongue presses back into you. The warm, wet muscle glides through your walls, in and out, and you find yourself whimpering in frustration at the feeling—oh so good, but not quite full enough.

It’s enough to have your hands relinquishing their hold on his locks and scrambling to pull him up the bed by his shoulders and begging him to fuck you.

“Joel, please. Need you now, baby!” Your voice sounds breathless and borderline frantic, and Joel can’t help but feel a little pride in just how worked up you get for him.

“Need—”

He cuts off your desperate pleas with a bruising kiss, pulling a needy sound from deep in your throat at the taste of yourself on his lips as they meet yours.

Joel parts from you to glance at the clock on his nightstand. He knows you’ve probably got about twenty minutes now before you each have to get ready for your respective days—before Sarah wakes up for school, and she’ll be knocking on his door to make sure that he’s up and ready to take her there before he heads to work.

Plenty of time to give you what you need.

Joel takes a moment to admire your features—pretty eyes still bleary from sleep, bottom lip swollen from his kiss and from being bitten between your teeth as you tried to keep your moans quiet. Chest heaving slightly in anticipation, nipples pebbled underneath the loose fabric of his t-shirt as you wait for him to make the next move.

He leans in to give you one more lingering kiss, his tongue parting your lips and meeting yours in a languid swirl that leaves you feeling dizzy when he pulls away.

Joel shifts back onto his knees, and you have half a mind to protest him being so far from you before his hands are meeting your hips.

“Turn over, baby.” He instructs you softly, those strong hands moving you with a surprising gentleness as he guides you to lay on your stomach.

You lie with your cheek pressed to the pillow, fingers digging into the sheets underneath it, your body tingling with anticipation as you wait for him to touch you.

Joel hastily removes his boxers, biting back a deep groan as he gives his already-throbbing length that’s been neglected until now a few firm strokes, spreading the precum that’s pearling at the tip as he watches your thighs clench with need.

You feel the calloused palms of his hands begin to trail the back of your thighs, and up slowly over your ass, fingers pushing up the hem of his much too-big t-shirt that you wore to bed along with them and making you shiver as they expose the smooth planes of your back.

Joel’s hands slide back down to part your thighs and make room for him, lifting your hips just slightly, and then he’s positioning himself over you.

With his broad chest pressed to your back once again and your spread thighs bracketing his, he reaches down to run his cock through your folds, gathering up your slick and pulling sharp gasps from you both as his tip bumps against your clit, before he notches himself against your entrance.

His body is a comforting weight against your back, the both of you letting out simultaneous sounds of pleasure and relief as Joel pushes into you slowly. His face rests in the crook of your neck and he groans at the way your tight, wet walls envelope him just right, the muscles already clenching around him as he waits to move.

Hips pressed to your ass while he gives you a moment to adjust to his length, Joel revels in the way you whine at the fullness of him. It’s always a stretch to accommodate his size, but you always take him so well.

“Mm—move, Joel. Please, baby.”

Your words and your hips attempting to buck back against him under his weight are enough for Joel to start moving, arms bracing beside you as he pulls his own hips back, slamming back into you in one quick thrust.

“Fuck!” You bury your face in the pillows to muffle your moans as Joel begins a steady pace.

All of your senses are completely surrounded by him—his scent on the silky fabric of his pillowcase, the hairs of his beard scratching at the column of your neck as he quietly grunts and moans into your ear, the weight of his strong body pressing you into the sheets as his cock fills you up and quickly pulls you back toward the edge of that cliff, more than ready to fall off.

Joel’s lips begin a trail of kisses all along your neck and up to your ear so he can whisper directly into it, that deep drawl of his eliciting a downright sinful mewl from your lips.

“So good for me, sweetheart. Always feel so good.”

His praise has your walls clamping down around him tighter as Joel fucks you slow and deep into the mattress. Both his words and his hips stuttering as he drives into you, bringing you both closer and closer to your highs every time his length prods against that spot inside you that makes you feel like you’re going to come undone.

“So, fuck—fuckin’ tight.” Joel groans as he buries his nose in your hair.

One of his large hands reaches out to cover one of your own that’s still tightly gripping the sheets, the other snaking its way beneath your body to find your clit and you shudder underneath him as the speed of his thrusts begins to quicken.

Face still buried in the pillows, your desperate cries of Joel’s name are muffled as he works you closer to the edge. The feeling of his cock dragging through your slick walls and filling you oh so deep, and the rough pads of his fingers circling your clit, leave your mind feeling hazy—and not because you’re still sleepy.

Joel can tell that you’re close from the way that your moans have shifted into breathless, broken cries, your cunt clamping down around his cock in a vice-like grip that’s driving him to the brink right along with you.

“Such a good girl for me,” He pauses to press a gentle kiss just behind your ear before he continues. “Need ya to come, baby.”

Joel’s words of encouragement, along with his deft fingers speeding up in their assault on your clit, have you falling over the edge with a sob of his name.

“Good girl.” He mutters close to your ear as his hips continue to piston against your backside, fingers still rubbing your clit and leaving you a writhing mess underneath him.

Your loud cries are softened as you bite down on the pillow below you when the pleasure borders on overstimulation. You feel so full as Joel continues to fuck you nice and deep, working you through your orgasm as he begins chasing his own.

With your release soaking his cock, and the velvety walls of your cunt practically strangling his length, his hips begin to falter in their rhythm and it’s only a few more thrusts before Joel reaches his peak.

Pressing impossibly deeper into you, he leans in to bite down on your shoulder through the fabric of your t-shirt to muffle his moans as he coats your spasming walls with his cum.

Joel’s deep, throaty moans mix with your softer sighs as his hips gradually come to a stop, still buried deep inside you as his fingers leave your oversensitive bundle of nerves, hand now retreating from beneath you as he lets his weight slump against you for just a moment.

With a few more kisses to the side of your head, Joel makes his way back down to your neck, and then to your shoulder where his lips press tenderly to where he knows is probably now a bite mark under your shirt, before he slowly pulls out of you.

The weight of him leaves you as he moves back onto his knees on the mattress, taking a moment to admire the mess of you both between your legs.

Joel then reaches for the box of tissues on his nightstand, grabbing a few to clean up the mix of your releases that’s begun to leak out of your core, tossing them into the trash can beside his bed and moving to turn you onto your back.

Body pliant and sated, and practically melting into the mattress, Joel can’t help but chuckle at you as leans down to meet your lips in a kiss so sweet it has you sighing against him.  

It’s only a few moments after you’ve finished, after he lays back down on the bed and pulls you onto his bare chest, that the alarm goes off with the shrill signal that it’s time to start the day.

With a groan, you look up from your spot lying against Joel’s chest to see him already gazing down at you, a small smirk lifting the corner of his lips as he reaches a hand up to run through your hair.

“Guess it’s time to wake up, sweetheart.”

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, your head flops back down onto his pec with another huff of disagreement and the two of you share a breathless laugh before Joel moves to shut off the alarm.

And, though you won’t admit it, you definitely wouldn’t mind an early wake-up call if you got to wake up like this every morning.

•

•

•

Aaaaah thank you for reading!! Don’t hesitate to leave a comment or reblog if you enjoyed! x

tagging everyone who reblogged the original post that this was based on 🧡 : @seitmai @givemeth @lumoverheaven @fangirlbang @onceupona-happilyeverafterlove @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @twoheartscanyon @sunblchdfly @caffeinated-idiot @fandomimagines2023

and a few others moots who i think may be interested 🫶🏼 : @softiedingo @joelsgreys @gasolinerainbowreads @thepascalofus @ilovepedro

[1-800-kami]

SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK .. feat. gojo satoru

.. two star-crossed lovers who make an oath to love each other like they’ve never loved before in their next life.

content: 1.8k words, fem!reader, angst (with a little comfort), first half takes place during chapter 236, (so MAJOR manga spoilers ahead) character death, reincarnation au, gojo is a future lawyer, VERY bittersweet

author's note: it's been a minute since i've last uploaded a fic lmao </3 i've mainly been doing smau's (because they're very fun to do and take less effort) but here's a short gojo fic that's been resting in my drafts for a while. it's a reincarnation au that i wrote while listening to slow dancing in the dark..so enjoy! -kami <3

interact and reblog for a kiss ;)

it’s cold on the battlefield.

the wind nips at your skin until it feels like you’re about to freeze over. you feel the coldness seeping into your skin—entering and traveling up your veins until it eventually reaches your already ice-cold heart. 

the scene in front of you feels all too familiar. you’ve seen it a thousand times over in the past–the image plaguing your sleep, turning what’s supposed to be a time to rest into a time of nightmares and waking up in a cold sweat. your lover, gojo satoru, is on the ground, eyes on the precipice of losing its shine. and there’s red, fuck–there’s so much red. a pool of red lies underneath gojo and it’s all you can see.

usually, at this point, you’d wake up, mind all over the place and heart racing. satoru… where’s satoru? you’d panic, feeling the covers for your lover and exhaling a sigh of relief when you find him curled up next to you. 

he’d always get up after you, knowing that you’d experience the occasional nightmare of him leaving you. satoru understands this very well. he has nightmares of you leaving him too. he’d make sure to hug your shaking, crying form until your sobs eventually ceased. “i’m right here, love. i’m not going anywhere. i’m the strongest, you know? you should have more faith in me.”

wake up. y/n. this isn’t real, right? wake up. you pinch your skin and dig your nails into your palms, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. except, you don’t wake up, and with the newly made marks etched on your skin lighting your nerves on fire, you realize this isn’t a dream. this time, gojo’s not there to ease your worries and reassure you that he’s alive–that he’s never going to leave your side.

with that realization, you feel yourself moving again. you scream satoru’s name with a voice plagued with nothing but agony and despair. you run over to his side, panic filling your senses when you feel his body and get all the red on your hands. red. it’s never had a negative connotation to you before. there was red on the roses that satoru had given you on valentines day. red on the heart-shaped gold necklace he’d gifted you on your anniversary (that you’ve never taken off since). red on the box of chocolates that he’d given to you on an ordinary day. “what? does there have to be a special occasion to show my girlfriend how much i love her?”

now, your perception of the color red has been tainted for the rest of your life. it’s the only thing you can see, and you want to close your eyes forever just so you don’t have to see that crimson shade ever again. “satoru, you said you’d never leave... you lied to me!”

he coughs weakly, using all his remaining strength to weakly take your hands in his. there’s a small smile on his face, and his peaceful expression only makes you sob harder. an expression that shows that he’s accepted his fate. “gosh, i’m getting your clothes all dirty. i’m sorry, princess…”

“can you promise me something, though? before i’m gone…” he whispers, and you nod your head, ready to do anything for him. “promise me we’ll meet again, okay?”

that catches you off guard. “w…what do you mean?”

“we’ll meet again, in another life, and i’ll love you all over again.” he smiles cheekily, and you hold his hand a little tighter, sobs racking your core and making your entire body shake. “have you ever imagined living a normal life? a life where sorcerers and curses are all alien words, and i’m not “the strongest”?…a life where i’m just like everyone else, and i get to marry you because no shitty higher-ups are holding me back anymore. god, i think about that all the time. i’ve realized that i’d like that version of life with you more than anything.”

you think that everyone in the jujutsu society has had that thought at least once. sometimes, the idea of being an ignorant civilian unknowingly living in a world filled with curses and despair seemed preferable. and yet, you’ve chosen to be a sorcerer, and perhaps this is the worst part to it. constantly losing the ones you’ve held closest to your heart–all to protect a group of people who aren’t even remotely aware of the sacrifices that sorcerers have made so that they can live a normal life. 

“i’ve always wanted that too, s’toru.” you whisper, in fear of your voice breaking if you speak too loudly. “yeah… a regular life without curses. what do you think it’ll be like?”

“hm… let me think. i’ve always wanted to be a dad, y’know?” satoru teases, and the two of you are lost in your own world as you both envision a life where you can be together without any repercussions. “megumi doesn’t count, cause ‘m not his biological dad. i want a little me running around in a house that we’ve worked so hard to buy. and who knows? maybe we’ll have more kids. maybe one or two more-”

“three kids?! that’s a lot, satoru.” you say in mock surprise, though you can’t expect less from your boyfriend. “hey.. does that mean we’ll get married?”

“of course, sweetheart. you’re the only love i’ve ever known. ‘m sorry i have to leave you like this. but i’ll come back for you in our next life, okay?” he hisses as he uses all his strength to grip your shaky hands a little tighter. you can tell his adrenaline’s wearing off, but you’re not ready to let go.

i’ll come back for you in our next life.

every second you’ll spend waiting for satoru seems like an eternity.  “i’ll propose to you with a beautiful ring ‘nd you’ll be…”

he coughs up a little bit of blood, voice hoarse and barely holding on. yet, gojo persists on using whatever strength he has to talk to you.

“you’ll be y/n gojo. i like the sound of that…” he whispers, and both of you know that his time has run out. the red on your skin is beginning to dry, and it feels like it’s tainted you forever. “i love you, princess.”

“i love you too, satoru. i’ll see you soon.” gojo’s grip on your hands loosen. you whisper his name again, looking for a response, but you’re only met with silence. he’s left you alone just like how everyone else has left you. nanami, geto, haibara, and now satoru.

you don’t scream or sob once you realize that satoru’s gone. in fact, your tears have ceased, but it's instead replaced with this empty feeling—like a hollow hole in your chest that can’t be filled with anything to make you feel whole again.

the battlefield is cold, but gojo’s limp body feels colder.

gojo satoru is twenty-two years old. he’s a slightly above-average man (both figuratively and literally) standing at six foot three, boasting looks that’ll make anyone fawn over him. it took him almost two years to decide on a major, but after trying a little bit of everything (and falling asleep during every business class that he took with his friend nanami) satoru settled on choosing a political science major to become a lawyer.

despite having looks that grant him the ability to get any girl that he wants, satoru’s spent his whole life looking for a girl that he’s never even met before.

he remembers everything–and every part about you. sometimes, he thinks that all the memories he’s spent with you were just some sort of dream, and yet, they seemed so vivid. sometimes, satoru chastises himself, a part of him wanting to just move on from you because he doesn’t even know if you actually exist–and yet, he’s been trying his entire life to find you because his memories told him that “he promised he would”.

were they memories or were they dreams? he doesn’t know what to think anymore.

but then, gojo satoru finally gets his questions answered one spring afternoon.

he passes by a cute bakery while walking home from school, and feels his taste buds waking up as he stares at all the mouth-watering sweets displayed behind the store’s glass. the bakery has a wide variety of baked goods, as well as coffee. satoru’s so busy looking at the menu that the second he looks at the cashier, he feels his entire world stop.

it’s you.

and at that moment, satoru could feel all the memories flooding back in. no, they weren’t dreams. they were memories. satoru has lived a completely different life before this one, and this was a new life, a second life that was granted to satoru from whatever deity there was out there. all he ever wanted was to live a normal life without being renowned as “the strongest”, and most importantly, he wanted to live a normal life with you in the epicenter of it. 

you. his entire world. his lifeline.

and now, you’re right in front of him, and satoru feels like he’s sixteen all over again–the year that you met him when you transferred into jujutsu high. the year you turned his entire world upside down. the year you–as well as his other friends, taught him how to live for a moment without caring about the overbearing pressure of expectation that was ever-present on his shoulders.

a glimmer of gold on your neck catches satoru’s eye.

it was the heart-shaped gold necklace that he’d given to you on your anniversary. the heart itself was crystallized red, and when you asked gojo to clasp it around your neck, you’ve always kept it on you.

he wonders if you ever took it off after he died.

“y/n?” the whisper almost felt pathetic with how much emotion he poured into it. you look up from your phone and finally meet his gaze for the first time in years.

two star-crossed lovers who made an oath to love each other like they’ve never loved before in their next life. the two of you have finally crossed paths again–but wait, there’s something terribly wrong.

“y/n? yeah… that’s my name.” you say, looking at your name tag that was pinned onto your apron. a look of confusion is etched onto your face–the man in front of you is looking at you with so much familiarity that you feel the need to know who he is. silvery white hair, cerulean blue eyes. his appearance makes him stand out so much that you would’ve definitely known who he was. you awkwardly adjust your name tag, unable to find any words to say other than:

“i’m sorry, but do i know you?”

[lisannastraussisanangel]

would love to hear ur headcanons for the canon couples (Nalu, Gruvia, Jerza, Gajevy) as first time parents

Fun fact: I actually wrote a fic about them adopting children (well Jerza, Nalu, and Elfever) if anyone is interested in that :)

Nalu

Lucy is literally stressed out the whole time

Natsu is pretty chill but his protectiveness has tripled

Lucy is the strict parent and Natsu is the fun one, but he will back Lucy up when needed

Unfortunately because of his heightened senses, Natsu really struggles with the baby crying. It's way louder for him and even hurts when he's holding the baby (too close to the ears)

Natsu struggles to sleep too. One because of the baby waking him up, but also because he is super protective and wakes up multiple times a night just to check on the baby (Lucy also doesn't sleep through the night but Natsu more so)

Lucy cheats and summons her spirits to help look after the baby. It really helps the new parents get time to rest (and also her spirits love the little baby so its a win win)

While they take turns working, Lucy usually stays home more. She knows Natsu needs to get out all his energy and she has no problem being a stay at home mom (at least for a little bit)

Gruvia

Juvia is literally always crying. Everything the baby does causes Juvia to burst into tears

Gray is in love. He's literally always cooing over the baby

They fight over who has to be the strict parents because both of them wanna be the fun one. Usually Juvia ends up as the strict one

Gray worries so much about the baby that he spends most nights sleeping in the nursery. Juvia keeps a spare blanket and pillow in there now, just so he can be more comfortable

The entire house is covered in toys (and other baby things). It has completely taken over their lives

Neither of them wanna work because they want to spend as much time with their baby as possible (unfortunately they have to so they take turns and only take simple jobs)

Juvia knits cute little onesies for the baby. She makes little dolls too. The dolls match the onesies. Its adorable

Jerza

Erza is super prepared and can literally handle any baby issue (throw up, diaper, teething, etc). She's got everything

Jellal on the other hand is always panicking. The baby hiccups? He's freaking out about if he has to go to the ER

Erza bought so many clothes for the baby. She treats them like a little doll and is always playing dress up

They are both the strict parents. Not terribly but they raise their child to behave (tho both are known to give in to the puppy dog eyes)

Jellal cries a lot. He cried when he found out Erza was pregnant, cried when the baby was born, cried when they brought the baby home, etc (he never thought he'd have a life like this)

For the first couple months after the baby is born, Jellal tries to do as much as possible because he wants Erza to rest (she did do all the hard work for nine months so it's only fair that he steps up after birth)

Somehow their home is always clean and they both always look well rested (well Jellal has permanent eye bags but that's just his normal sleep depravation). No one knows how they are so put together with a newborn

Gajevy

Gajeel is that dad that is always talking about his baby. He's always showing pictures, will turn any conversation into a baby story, and in general cannot go five minutes without talking about his baby

Levy did so much research before the baby was born. She bought literally anything and everything the books recommended

Unfortunately that means when something happens that wasn't in the book, Levy panics

Gajeel also has issues with his heightened senses. Levy takes pity on him when it comes to diaper changes (Gajeel has thrown up from particularly foul ones)

Gajeel tried to do that thing where you make the baby listen to music in the moms stomach, but it was his singing. Levy would come up with every excuse in the book for this not to happen

He does sing to the baby now, but Levy finds it adorable and likes to listen (his voice is more suited for lullaby's)

Levy reads to the baby every night. Her book picks vary from actual kids books to textbooks but the baby doesn't know the difference anyway

[jackmanbj]

single

AN: this is my first angst fic, enjoy, also this has two parts.🫀

summary: jack has been telling you to wait for him to be ready in a real relationship but likes to fuck other girls and gets mad when you talk to another dude.

you and jack had just got back to the hotel after his performance.

jack was beyond exhausted, he just wanted to lay down in your arms and fall asleep to you whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

jack got into the shower with you following behind him.

“jackie, when are you going to commit to me..?”

“baby please, you known i love you, we can talk about this tomorrow im so fucking tired i can barely stand up..”

“ok baby i dont want to stress you, lets just go to bed, ok.”

you both finished washing off and went to lay down.

you laid on the bed while jack climbed on top of you.

jack didnt take long to fall asleep, you sighed feeling lonely, sure you were seeing jack, but it didnt feel like it.

jack would go out to clubs every other night and be kissing girls, hell sometimes maybe even fucking them, you never knew when it came to him.

you let your mind shut off as you fell asleep scratching jacks hair with your acrylic nails.

the next morning by the time you woke up, jack was gone.

you sighed and checked the time before getting up and heading to brush your teeth.

you found jacks dirty clothes on the floor by his bag, you picked then up getting a plastic bag and placing them in until you could wash them.

you heard your phone ringing and went to go answer it.

*incoming call from stinka💕*

you answered and heard urban in the background taking to what sounded like ace.

“yea jack?”

“im so sorry i left before you could wake up, the boys wanted to go out and i didnt want to wake you, i just wanted to call and let you know where i was.”

“its fine babe, have fun”

“thank you mamas, love you.”

“love to too.”

jack hung up and started cuddling up to the girl who obviously knew he was talking to someone, but didnt care as he talked to his friends.

“dude you gotta either commit to y/n or break it off with her, you’ve been leading her on for the longest.”

“urban just give me time.. i want her i just dont know when i want to commit.”

“their is no way you want her honestly, you have been with two other girls since the one from last night!”

“fuck i just need time, im going see y/n.”

urban looked at jack with nothing but disappointment, jack had always claimed he didnt like toxic relationships, he just wanted one girl to love on forever.

it was all for an image, jack wanted anybody who would fuck him.

jack loved you though, he knew he loved you, you knew he loved you, hell everybody knew.

well everybody who wasn’t the public.

jack didnt hide the fact he was actively going in and out of relationships or getting ready to commit.

he loved the attention he would get from women wanting to get under your skin, even if they didnt know you, they wanted you to know jack was cheating on you and he loved the adrenaline it gave him, hell if it was up to him he would date you in an one way open relationship, he could fuck whoever while your the house wife of the decade.

jack pulled up to the hotel and went in to find a not with your handwriting on the island that said

“im going treat myself, i went to get my hair done, nails done, and i might go to hang out at a club or something. i dont know if you’re going to be back before me so i wrote this. love you lots see you later.”

jack sighed knowing you probably took his card and there would be a lot less money from before.

jack called you and it went straight to voicemail, he went to text you and seen you were ok dnd, he texted you and pressed noti anyway.

stinka💕- call me back love

you huffed and looked at the message and seen jacks name, you were getting your toes done so your hands were free and you called him back.

“yes babe?”

“did you take my cards?”

“yea, of course.”

“you didnt even ask me what the fuck.”

“jack baby, i just wanted to have time to myself, all i did was get my nails done so far, i can cancel everything else if its that big of a deal.”

“its fine i just..never mind, have a good day my girl, enjoy yourself.”

“thank you jack.”

you finished your nails and went to the store to grab some snacks for while you get your hair done.

while you were in the store a man with freeform’s approached you

“hey ma’am you mind if i pay for your things?”

“uhm thanks but you dont have to really!”

“please?”

“yes sure, thanks so much.”

“no problem.”

the man paid and as you were walking out he stopped you again.

“hey uhm, i was wondering.. can i have your number.”

“yes sure.”

the man quickly took out his phone and saved his number as ‘Warren’

you took your phone back and headed out the store walking to your car getting ready for the appointment.

you started driving and jack called you.

you answered the phone through the car screen not wanting to pick up your phone.

“yes jack? im driving, cant really talk.”

“why were you at the store so long? you ok?”

“yes im fine this dude asked yo pay for my things thats all.”

“did you let him?”

“yes why wouldn’t i?”

“man what the fuck? your out with my card and letting another man buy your shit? i bet he was just trying to get your number.”

“her put his number in my phone, im probably just going to be his friend dont want to lead him on.”

jack didnt say another word, he just hung up and your music started blasting.

you knew the phone didn’t disconnect because jack let out a puff before hanging up.

once you were done with all your appointments and having your day out you went back to the hotel with a few shopping bags hanging on your arm as you sucked your strawberry smoothie.

you dropped your bags off on the island and went to the bedroom ready to show off your hair and nails and make it up to jack.

when you walked in jack was making out with another girl who simply smiled at you before rubbing jack through his pants.

usually you had the mindset “its almost never the secret girls fault, if she didn’t know. if she did, beat that hoe ass.”

and thats what you did.

you set your smoothie down acting calm and went to the bathroom.

jack not knowing what you were going to do, he continued wanting to get under your skin.

you walked out the bathroom with your hair in a bun and immediately ran to punch the girl in the face.

she tried her hardest to fight back while you just were beating on her.

jack let you get your anger out on her so it wouldn’t be as bad on him but after about forty seconds he pulled you off, she girl not wanting to fight back.

jack told the girl get out while holding you to his chest.

“what no! you love me! you told me that jack!!”

“ok i lied, get out. i have to take care of my little princess.”

“fine.” she tried to put her clothes on but you picked up her shirt and got out of jacks grip, she ran after you for her shirt and you threw it out the door.

“fetch.”

the girl groaned and put her shirt on in the hall and waited for jack to bring her phone ect out.

jack placed it into your hands to give to her and you threw her things on the ground.

you slammed the door and all your anger now went towards jack.

you started walking up to him and were about to punch his face but he caught your arm.

you couldn’t help but get so mad to the point you cried, you were sick of getting treated like this, you were sick of getting humiliated, sick of jack saying “i loved you” to three different people other then you in one day.

jack pulled you to his chest and let you cling to his while you let it all out.

jack led you to the bedroom as you stopped crying.

“i love you baby..”

“no you dont.”

“if i didn’t i wouldn’t be with you, i love you.. just need time to express it and get ready to commit because i only want you.”

“jack i cant do this, im getting a plane ticket home for tomorrow, im not moving out but ill be in the guest room, until you can prove to me that you love me and stop bring all these women in your life. i cant, i love you but i cant.”

you started packing your things while jack couldn’t help but watch and cry.

he did love you.

but he loved to many other people to commit to you.

you left the room not sure where else to go except urbans room.

urban let you in with warm hugs and let you stay in the main room while he took the sofa.

you flew back the next day and jack wouldn’t stop texting you.

stinka💕- text me when you get home love, have a safe flight.

stinka💕- its been 4 hours, i know your home call me please.

stinka💕- mamas, i know you’re extremely upset with me and so exhausted because of everything i’ve put you through this year, but i love you. even if i cant show it right now, ma i love you. you know i do, i’ll be better for you i promise i will but i need you to call me so i know your safe, or text me even just a period. something please i need to know your okay. i know i messed up but i need you.

you- im fine jackman.

you turned your phone on dnd and laid down and started to watch childhood shows.

there was a knock at the front door, you took the blanket off yourself and went up to look out the window.

there was no one but flowers on the floor.

you huffed and went to get the flowers already knowing who sent them.

you put the flowers in a empty vase and read the note.

“y/n, i love you so much you dont even know. im so sorry for all the pain i’ve caused you, i just want you to forgive me. i’ll change my ways all the way, i want you to be happy and i haven’t been making you happy its my fault, instead of talking things out with you i go see other women and leave you alone to sleep by yourself, i’ll see you soon though my love♥️”

you kissed the note and brought it to your bedroom and put it on your nightstand.

you took your phone off dnd and called jack.

jack answered on the first ring and you immediately heard a sniffle when he answered.

“jack baby are you crying?”

“no.”

“jack baby face time me.”

jack pressed the face time button after wiping his face trying to look as presentable as possible.

you answered and could immediately tell he had been crying.

“jack babe, dont cry. i love you so much you’re stuck with me. you just have to stop acting the way you are, its hurting me really bad and its pushing me from you.”

“i promise to stop, mamas i need you..”

“ok babe, its not very smart for me to fly back out right now because i just left so maybe in like a week ill come back.”

“what no, come back tomorrow im getting your ticket right now.”

“jack-“

“i already brought it, you’re coming.”

“alright babe..”

“no ones going to get in the way of us anymore, we’re together forever. i love you.”

“forever and always?”

“forever and always, but you need some rest, goodnight my love the flights for 7:30.”

“ok goodnight jackie.”

jack hung up and cuddled with his pillow wishing it was you.

[sendpseuds]

Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.) 👉👈

THIS!

Sadly, I will never write this insane dark!Obi-Wan on Mandalore AU that haunts my dreams to this day

what you see above is the timeline of events [well, as far as I got with it] and SEVEN different points of view, but while this timeline is in chronological order, the fic was not going to be. Well, not totally.

Basically, the fic would start in Bo-Katan's POV [the blue stickies] where she and the rest of Death Watch meet with a mysterious figure offering to help them take back Mandalore. Cut to Satine's POV [purple stickies] where she's informed that a patrol has picked up a downed ship outside the city walls. The pilot survived and has been identified as Obi-Wan Kenobi. But that's not possible, because Obi-Wan Kenobi died on Naboo over a decade ago

*gasp*

Anyway, the audience knows from the beginning that he's working as a double agent but we don't know what his motivations are. Other than the Kryze sisters whose stories are told chronologically, almost every POV [Dooku red, Cody orange, Quinlan yellow, Anakin green] is out of order and often out of context, especially Obi-Wan's [black stickies] who's POV segments I had started to write in a very different style from everyone else, more poetry than prose from him just to make everything even eerier.

This thing is insane. An absolute monster with so many cool ideas but I just don't have the bandwidth for it.

There are a lot of elements I think about a lot and I often wonder if I could break this down into smaller fics.

I'm having fun thinking about this so I'm gonna keep ranting if that's cool with you? Cool.

The main theme of the story is pain, both emotional and physical. Obi-Wan is horribly injured on Naboo after Qui-Gon sacrifices him to defeat Maul [hense, everyone thinking he's dead] and he lives with chronic pain, which is how Dooku manipulates him into training as a Sith, by offering him relief and threatening to take it away whenever Obi-Wan steps out of line. There is also something in there about Obi-Wan learning how to completely shield himself in the Force because his pain gets so loud other Force-sensitive can feel it [which is how Dooku finds him in the first place]

Eventually, Obi-Wan escapes and spends a lot of time learning on his own and just observing what's going on. He knows there's a war coming but Dooku never told him the details. So he's curious.

This brings me to one idea I think could definitely just be a fic all its own —

During the war, Cody notices that clones are going missing on the battlefield. At first, he makes some particularly gruesome excuses in his mind involving explosives and local fauna but eventually, it becomes clear someone is taking them. It's not every battle and it's always only one.

Before he's ever able to get to the bottom of it, Cody is knocked out cold in the middle of battle and wakes up on an operating table where a mysterious man explains how he's been taking clones for months. At first, he'd only taken men who were already dead, curious to learn about their physiology, but when he'd discovered the chips— Well, then he'd started to experiment.

in the larger AU plot, this came back in the end, Obi-Wan has his own little clone brigade [oh gods this part was so complicated, there was some zombie troopers and some reprogrammed ones and Death Watch didn't know about the reprogrammed ones?? also I wrote the zombie trooper idea down before Ahsoka so yeah], but I really think this could work as a horror one-shot that just ends with Obi-Wan kissing him on the forehead and putting him under for his reprogramming.

Okay, wow. This is probably a lot more than you bargained for, but I haven't really played around with this AU in a while, so thank you for giving me the excuse to do that!

For anyone wondering, the sticky note app is called Mural, but it really only works on a computer, the iPad app is unusable.

And if anyone has questions about this AU, please feel free to ask! this one goes wild places

[rand0mfangurlstuff]

I'll Look After You - Part 4 - Bucky x Y/N

I just had to write more of this! It's always going on in my head I had to type it out. Thanks so much for all the likes on the previous parts. This is my first time writing so I'm nowhere near as good as most writers on here. Anyways, here we get the moment I'm sure you've been waiting for.

Bucky knew, with absolute certainty, that he was dead. When people spoke of Heaven they mentioned warmth, relaxation, peace. They talked about soft clouds and a feeling of bliss. If that was all true, then Bucky was certainly in Heaven. In which case; John 'Bucky' Egan, for all intents and purposes, was dead.

The last thing he remembered before his death was the sweet sound of Y/N's voice and the taste of vanilla frosting on his tongue. What had happened after that? Did the gods finally say 'It's time John.' and call him home? What would they tell his Ma? What about Buck? He couldnt think too much on that right now, he was basking in pure and utter bliss. There he lay, in his small bed in the infirmary, with Y/N's head on his chest as she slept. Yes, this is Heaven. He thought. With the slightest turn of his head he could smell her hair. Just like the fowers in Ma's garden. He did his best not to move, not to even breathe too much, incase he would disturb her and burst his perfect bubble. He wasn't a fool. He knew Y/N certainly did not intend for this to happen. Tiredness clearly overtook her before she had the chance to move to her quarters or somewhere else more appropriate to sleep. But here she was in his arms, head on his chest. If someone came in here right now and shot him in the head; he would die happy.

When she started to wake, the first thought in her mind was that whatever hard surface she was lying on, it was not her pillow. No, this hard, chisled, impossibly warm surface was not her pillow at all. Confusion filled her brain until she slowly opened her eyes, looked up and were met with two blue eyes staring back at her. 'Oh my God!' She lept from the bed suddenly, the harsh movement hurting Bucky's ribs. 'Easy doll, its just me.' 'What am I doing here? What time is it? Oh my god I'm still in last nights clothes!' She was panicked. She was to start her shift in an hour, and she hadnt even made it to bed! What would her roommates think? What would the other nurses say? If anyone saw her in John Egans cubicle wearing last nights clothes... she may as well find the nearest river and jump. 'Relax, you just fell asleep thats all. I think it was a rather lovely way to end our date.' She spun on her heel. 'It was not a date! I was just wanting to help you sleep.' She put on her shoes as fast as she could. 'Well it worked, I slept like a baby.' He was teasing her, wanting her to tease him back. Wanting that beautiful smile of hers to appear and take the worry from her face. 'I never should have slept here. I have work in an hour!' Bucky couldnt help the teasing smile on his face. 'Well good thing you work here.' 'I'm in last nights clothes! I cant be in work in last nights clothes!' 'I don't mind what clothes you wear darling. You look lovely regardless.' That drew a small smile from her. Success. 'I have other patients other than you you know.' 'But I'm your favourite.' He smirked. He liked this. He liked teasing and flirting and having fun. 'I wouldn't go taking any bets on that Major.' she teased him back. 'Well why else would you leave a dance to come see me?' It was then she remembered that she had never told him she was going to the dance. 'How did you know I was at the dance?' His cheeks went red. He panicked. 'You told me yesterday.' 'No I didnt, I was going to, but then you were being cranky. How'd you know?' 'Well I, I may have overheard you speaking with Croz..'

It was like a lightbulb turned on in her brain. He heard her and Harry speaking. He heard Harry ask her to the dance. That's why he knew she was going. He knew she was going with Harry. A second, brighter lightbulb. Thats why he was in such a bad mood yesterday. She tried, really and truely tried, but the laughter was too much for her small body to contain. She burst into a fit of giggles. She tried to speak in between fits of laughter. 'You,... oh my god, you were.... you....jealous!'

The red in Bucky's cheeks spread to every other part of his body. She knew. She knew his bad mood wasnt due to physical therapy, it was because he knew she was going to the dance with Crosby. Bucky almost wished someone would shoot him in the head. How could he live with this? She knew he was jealous, meaning she knew of his feelings for her, and she was laughing at him. Bucky should have known she wouldnt never see herself with him. The thought of him thinking he had even the slightest chance had her struggling to breath through fits of laughter. Still giggling like a schoolgirl, she said to him, 'Harry is a lovely guy...' Yes, he was aware how lovely Croz was. 'But I don't see him in that way.' What? Hope flickered in his chest. 'Oh, then why did-' 'Because he's a nice guy. And I didn't have anyone else to go to the dance with. Nobody has ever even asked me to a dance before.' She tucked her head as to avoid eye-contact. Embarrased by the confession. Bucky was certain she was lying. 'That's impossible. You're stunning. Anyone would be glad to take you anywhere.' Her smile was so wide it almost split her cheeks. 'Well, Harry is the first person to ever actually ask. So I said yes. It was a bad idea though, I was a terrible date for him.' 'I doubt that.' 'Well, it's not much fun being on a date with someone who is thinking of someone else the whole time is it?' Bucky felt his heart race, he didnt want to be too optimistic; but he couldn't help the fluttering butterflies in his stomach. 'And who might that be?' She smiled, and slowly made her way back to his bed. She sat on the edge of his bed.

She knew it was unprofessional, but she passed unprofessional three nights ago when she first slept in that chair by his bedside. She was nervous. Her hands were shaking and she could hear her heart racing. As she sat next to him on the edge of the bed, she felt a magnetic force pull him towards her. She was crossing a lot of boundries, and there was still and chance he would reject her, but she had to do this. She had to do it because she could barely breathe and words were failing her. She leaned closer to him, looking at his perfect ocean blue eyes and his soft lips. Leaning closer and closer, but at a pace slow enough that he could reject her if he wanted to.

This had to be a hallucination. She was moving towards him in a way that could only mean one thing, she was going to kiss him. He couldnt speak, couldnt move, couldnt breathe. He just sat there as her lips found his. It was soft, gentle, like she was afraid of hurting him. Her soft lips like a whisper against his own. He was intoxicated by her. She overcame every one of his senses. Her touch, her smell, her taste. It was all he could think about. He finally was able to snap out of complete shock and kiss her back. Moving his hand to her soft cheek, Bucky deepened the kiss. Still soft, still slow, still absolutely amazing. After god knows how long, they came up for air. Foreheads touching, they smiled at each other lovingly. 'There's only one man I want dancing with me.'

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

“What hair product I think each svt member is”

Summery: a holiday fic that has absolutely nothing to do with the holidays! Wanted to try my hand at writing something a bit different and thought this was a good idea to start. Not really comedy but amusing none the less! (idk if what I wrote makes sense hopefully yall are picking up what I’m putting down) approximately: ten minute read

A/n: THIS IS NOT MY ORIGINAL IDEA! (In a way it is buuuutttt still) I can’t find the author who wrote the “what piece of furniture svt are” or something to that effect so they’re the ones who gave me the idea so if yall find them please tag them unless I do first!

warningz/info: mentions of pain, mentions of chocolate, I think what, three curse words? y'all let me know if I should start keeping them to a minimum or remove them entirely because I know some people are uncomfortable with them! I feel like the spacing between paragraphs is weird in this fic but oh well. no idea how this is gonna go over and im scared that I tagged it with "x reader". plus I dont know if anyone would read/enjoy it but I had loads of fun writing it! as always, if you did like it, please leave some love like comments and or reblogs!

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper. This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

•••••••••••••••••••

>Seungcheol<

gel. Sticks to you like glue once you find each other (romantic music starts playing in the hair care isle when you pick up your favorite gel) everyone has their preferred brand/ look they worship. Thicc. Either smells putrid and chemical like or good enough to transport you to a magical land of chocolate, pink grass and purple clouds

>Jeonghan<

he is a Bobby pin. And I will provide no further explanation on this except that he holds you together but will stab you lmao

>Shua<

an Afro pick/ hair pick. Its what everyone’s looking for: that little somen’ somen’. That little poof we all desire. Also scalp massages :)

>Jun<

wide tooth comb. My fellow thick haired/ curly haired people will know about this one 😭 this shit can be mean to your scalp tugging on your hair and UGH helps you greatly and is a necessity but damn… that’s all I gotta say

>Hoshi<

Refresher product/ moisture product. wakes you up in the morning. Gives you a reason to NOT look like you just rolled outta bed even though you did. For most this is one ofthe holy grails in life. What would I do without it? Makes us all smile even at 4:00 am because oh my god I look better after I slapped this in. Just all around a day-brightener

>Wonwoo<

curl cream. Grounding. Has many different looks n stuff

>Woozi<

a rat tail comb. Everyone should have one. Versatile, used for many different things. Good for every sort of job and is a natural to be honest and is small but mighty lol

>DK<

a satin/ silk bonnet. And no, not one of those that most  moms wear with the lace trim. Those end up at the foot of your bed by the morning. The ones with the thick elastic. I choose this cause it goes by many different names, just like him lol just has that comfy homey feel to it

>Mingyu<

hair mask. Made at home with some questionable ingredients. Seriously sometimes I don’t think he’s real lol 

>Hao<

a denman brush. It sounds to helpful and great. And it is great!…. When you figure out how to use it. Hard to figure out but once you get the hang of it you’ll never go back (another thing my fellow curly haired babes will understand)

>Seungkwan<

co wash. A little something extra, a boost of energy, if you will. a well kept secret but also a well known fact 

>Vernon<

hair tie. Easy to loose but also easy to find. especially in places where youd think: “why the fuck would it end up here?” Like idk man, but you should definitely check the dark corner collecting lint— that’s where they always are

>Dino<

leave in conditioner because with use over time it makes your hair (you) healthier

~End~

a/n: annnnnnnnddddd thats it! hope y'all enjoyed this disaster of a fic lmao if you liked it, please leave some love like comments or reblogging!

stay safe, y'all!

2023 ©️copyright for shutupheathersorryheatherr do NOT repost, steal, or translate my work even if you give me credit

taglist: @itz-yerin

[astralarias]

The Hope of the World - COYH Zine

Hi!! Here is my completed fic I wrote for the GW2 Commander of your Heart Zine! It was so much fun to take part and I hope you enjoyed seeing all the gorgeous art and wonderful writing from all involved.

My piece was a reflection on Jioxa and how she feels she fits into the world, her place in it as Commander. It is set in an ambiguous dream-vision, but no matter how real, a visit from an old dear friend gives her the encouragement she needs to stay strong.

1.5k words | Implied Trahearne/Commander | No content warnings

She dreams of him, sometimes.

Nights when the buzz of thoughts in her head give rise to great thunderstorms, when all her doubts and fears crash down upon her. Torrential, unending.

She dreams of him, and he becomes her safe haven from the storm. His presence is like the serenity of the full moon on a clear night; quiet, soft, watchful. It’s in these fleeting moments that Jioxa finds peace, or something close to it.

It never lasts. She wakes to a world rocked by Dragons and Gods, the chaos she wrought upon the world heavy in her veins like lead. It was the only choice, and she knows this, but knowledge isn’t feeling, and oh, how she feels. She laments, for Soo-won especially, source of all, who Jioxa only knew in her pain and torment.

But she dreams of him, and often she wishes in dreams she could stay.

Tonight is one such night. The day had been long and arduous, leaving her body aching and her mind clouded. Sleep found her easier than usual, and the waking world gave way to a more pleasant illusion.

She sits on a precipice, overlooking a soft darkness dotted with a million stars. The spiral arm of the galaxy stretches out from beneath her feet to far above her head, purple and blue and gold. Eternal Alchemy in its most beautiful form. She’s wearing a simple, comfortable outfit, and her long black hair is loose, settled around her shoulders.

He’s beside her.

Trahearne. As he was - as she remembers - before Maguuma. Back when the world was - not easier, but simpler. He turns to her, and the smile he gives warms her heart. She meets his eyes, her bright orange to his yellow, and he blurs in her vision as tears well up.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, taking his hand in her own, running her thumbs over the bumps and imperfections. The physicality of him, even in a dream - she’s missed it dearly.

“As have I, dearheart,” Trahearne replies, and her heart flutters, his love for her almost flowing between them. As if she was like him. As if she could feel what he felt, as he could do with his own kind. It’s a bitter thought, that whatever they had was not as deep as it could have been, were she - sylvari. She chokes down the word her brain had initially supplied, better.

It isn’t that she hates who she is, but she can’t discount the nights she’s spent laying awake, wishing she was more. More ‘asura’, more intelligent, more lovable. He makes her feel like she’s enough, but she wishes she could be more than enough for him. To connect with him, through thought and feeling alone; who wouldn’t yearn for that?

She sighs. As her parents had always said, thinking was like kneading dough. Helpful and necessary, but go on for too long and your bread would become chewy and tough. Think too much, and you’ll spin yourself into despair. Ugh. She wrinkles her nose. She’s using her parent’s metaphors, now? She’s getting old.

She shakes her head to clear the unwanted worries, and looks back up to the serene sylvari beside her.

“Trahearne,” she says, “can I ask you something?”

His gaze softens, warms like the spring sun. “You know you need not ask. What troubles you?”

She knows this is all an elaborate play orchestrated by her tired mind, but his presence is as comforting as it had been in life. She leans against him, and he moves his arm around her shoulder to hold her.

“Why me?” Jioxa begins. “Throughout everything, I was your first choice. You could have chosen someone better, after we killed Zhaitan. Someone - a soldier, a tactician, someone braver and stronger. Why did you stick with me? What did I bring to - to everything?”

For a moment the world hangs in silence, as heavy as a brick. When he speaks, gentle, she lets out a breath of relief. She’d almost wondered if she’d done something wrong, made some transgression by asking. The last dregs of her fear melt away as he tugs her closer.

“My heart, you underestimate yourself,” he says. “I didn’t need a soldier; indeed, I had plenty. I didn’t need bravery or strength, although you displayed both in troves, more than I had any right to ask of you. I needed you, yourself. A pure, kind heart, and a voice to inspire courage, to light the way through the dark and keep that light ablaze when I could not. Had you not been by my side, I - and the Pact - would have faltered in our first steps.”

He pauses, looking down at her with eyes full of warm sincerity. “You brought to me something more valuable than all the armies of Tyria combined. Hope. Something that had evaded my grasp for the longest time, after all those years in Orr.”

She feels heavy tears stream down her cheeks, although she doesn’t recall starting to cry. She’s silent, words slipping between her fingers despite how she scrambles to hold onto them. His own words are everything to her, a lifeline - but she can’t quite bring herself to believe him.

Trahearne turns to her, a slight furrow to his leafy brow. She sniffles, trying to wipe away her tears - unsuccessfully, as they don’t seem in any mood to stop.

“Jioxa,” he says, near a whisper. “May I show you something?”

Curiosity flickers in her chest, stirring her heart. The tears stop, and she fixes him with a quizzical look, her ears pricking up a little. Words are still beyond her, but she manages an eager nod. Whatever Trahearne has to show her, she knows it will be worthwhile.

He smiles, reaches out, and presses his hand to her forehead.

The cosmic environment fades out into a dizzying rush of color for a brief few moments. As the world stabilizes again, she finds herself in a familiar environment. Unearthly birdsong echoes in the distance, and great, towering coral colors the otherwise bleak landscape.

Orr.

And….a Pact camp. She and Trahearne stand behind a stack of crates, hidden from view of the soldiers, who lounge around a blazing campfire. Of the faces she can see, she notes a human, a charr, and a norn. There are two other figures, their backs turned. An asura, and a sylvari.

The asura is small, lithe, lively. They stand on a small box, gesturing wildly with their hands as they recall a story. It’s clearly exaggerated beyond all belief, but the others around the fire seem enraptured. Their eyes shine, their expressions ones of joy despite the war-torn environs.

The asura comes to the conclusion of their story, and the others clap and cheer. Jioxa smiles to herself. She’s not sure what Trahearne is showing her, here, but it warms her to see these people’s happiness.

The asura takes an over-dramatic bow and turns to clamber down from the box. Jioxa swears her heart stops, for a few moments.

It’s her.

Much younger, scrawnier, but undeniably her. Her face - her eyes shining with pride, her little ears, and that ponytail she used to wear day-in, day-out. She swallows the lump in her throat, turning to look up at Trahearne, who stands silent beside her.

“Why-”

“Look,” he says, softly, kneeling down to her level. “Look around, dearheart. Look at those soldiers; they’ve all lost friends this day. This was one of the hardest battles of the war against Zhaitan, and yet - you were there, always. To bring even the slightest joy to a place like Orr is no small feat, yet you did it as if nothing was more natural. You never stopped bringing hope and joy to these people, even when you, too, were scared and reeling. You were their guiding light. As you were mine.”

Raw emotion writhes in Jioxa’s chest, and she blinks back yet more tears. She glances back out at the soldiers gathered around the campfire. Trahearne is right; they look at the other-her with nothing short of adoration, reverence. She is not just their Commander; she is their reason to keep going, through all the death and despair of the Dragon.

With everything that had been going on at the time - when this scene was real - she hadn’t even noticed. She’d been doing nothing more than being herself, fearful and flawed but her, no mask, no shield.

Her gaze wanders back to Trahearne. She meets his eyes. He’s smiling, and she takes a moment to bask in his pride, lets it wash over her like sunlight. Then, she nods. Wordless, but that is all he needs; she understands. He hugs her close to him, and in his arms she closes her eyes as the scene fades away once again. She clings to his warmth and safety for as long as she can, until her consciousness fades into a soothing void, the dream - or was it more than that? - giving way to sleep.

When she wakes, it is back in her bed, and the reality of Trahearne’s absence squeezes at her heart. A familiar ache, now. But for the first time in longer than she can recall, a sense of peace permeates her mind. She opens her eyes, taking a deep breath. A brighter future is waiting for her to light the way.

[jinkookspencil]

aquarium date | ksj drabble

description/tw: seokjin drabble / ~0.8k words / seokjin x reader (f) / fluff suggestive - references to hard-ons, sex, horniness, and d!ck / established relationship / anything in italics is meant to be said in a slightly different way like they're imitating one another or it's just in a funny voice / not really a fic, just an imaginary suggestive conversation between jin and his s.o. at an aquarium / saw a tank & a fish just like this and immediately thought of this scenario sksksk - forgot about it then wrote it one morning when i remembered so i wouldn't forget lol / also disclaimer aquariums can suck & treat animals horribly so just imagine this is in one with excellent conditions for sea creatures <3

“I wonder how they don’t kill or attack each other,” Seokjin mumbled beside you. You had been thinking the same thing while staring into the gigantic tank at the aquarium. This one tank housed more marine animals than you’d ever seen previously in your life. Different species of many different colors and shapes, all coexisting right before your eyes. You must’ve spent a good ten minutes reading the informational charts by the glass, and Seokjin was clearly mesmerized too - weirdly silent after cracking non-stop jokes when he saw the penguins. 

Looking back up at the tank, something caught your eye. 

“Seokjin-ah,” you giggle, lightly shoving him with your shoulder. It was only then that you’d realized you had held his hand at some point. So with your free hand, you point at the fish swimming around that caught your attention - a large one with a blue dorsal fin and a gigantic bill sticking out from between its eyes. 

“Seokjin-ah, look. That’s you in the mornings.” 

Your boyfriend looks back at you in confusion, but it’s not long before he understands, immediately waving your hand down after you pointed it around, imitating Seokjin’s morning wood.

“Ya!” he tries to protest from beside you, but when the fish reappears he finally allows himself to laugh and couldn’t stop. 

“See how it’s swimming around? Like it’s looking for something? That’s exactly you in the mornings looking for me when I wake up before you. Walking around with your hard dick sticking out. Like 'Jagiya? Jagiya?!'”

Right on cue, the fish snaps around like it’s actually asking the question and playing along.  Tears of laughter stream from Seokjin’s face, which is still undeniably red even while he tries to hide it in his hands. “Jagi - hehehe - Jagiya..... shhhhhh.”

“Do they have a little kitchen in this tank? If he’s looking for her, she’s probably there, preparing a little something for him. Like me. Can’t you guys just be patient? Then again, kitchen sex is always fun. In this case, I guess it’s coral sex.”

Seokjin wipes away the final tears that escape him as he looks back at the tank.

“You’re bigger, though,” you whisper when the fish returns closer to you, it’s large bill on full display.

Seokjin giggles again before abruptly stopping…. and then giggling even louder.

 “Oh, yah,” he calls out, pointing at a fish not far behind the Seokjin-billed one - you had been too focused on it to see much else. This fish was faster, smaller, trailing the other. 

“And that’s you. If that was me in the morning, then that’s you later in the evenings, trying to find me. See? Do you see how fast she’s swimming behind the other one? That’s you jogging around the apartment when you want to jump on me or show me your lingerie. I still don't understand why you speed-walk around our little apartment. As if I’m going somewhere. I’m just there. Ready and excited for you at any time. And you’re running around like Baby? Baby? Baby? Seokjin-ah? Seokjin-ah?”

The fast flapping of the fish’s fins were in tune with Seokjin’s spot-on imitation of you. You laughed just as hard as he did. 

“Ya, fishy," he says towards the glass, "If you’re looking for him he’s just in the coral game room and he’s probably thinking about you too. Go look for him he’s… he’s already hard.”

You let out a chuckle, lightly shoving his shoulder before resting your head on it.

“You’re so cute when you’re horny,” he whispers. “I have to admit your little rush turns me on. Running - or flapping - around for me and my body, like you can’t wait for it….”

“Can you blame me? I have to admit I get turned on by you and your, you know, gigantic dick sticking out for me.” 

“Jagiya...... you can’t just say 'your gigantic dick' in a public place,” Seokjin says in a hushed tone, and you practically feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from him, almost as much as you feel the vibrations of his laughter on his shoulder. 

“We’ve been talking like this the entire time, and now you draw the line? No one can hear us,” you say quietly, looking around to confirm your suspicions. No one was close enough to hear you. 

“No, it’s not necessarily that… I know no one’s here…. But, it’s hearing you talk about my gigantic dick, imagining you all… excited… I tried to say... I’m already….”

“Seokjin,” you look at him in shock, but he just clears his throat and scratches the back of his head. His tell.

“Ready to go home?”

[holodexmachina]

Listen. I wrote a thing.

Part of me still can't believe I've done this, but, okay, here we go: I wrote some Star Trek fanfic! And while posting fanfic is a pretty banal activity in tumblrland, it was kind of A Whole Thing for me. I’ve never written fanfic before! I haven’t even written fiction of any sort since, good lord, my sophomore creative writing class, which was *checks watch* twenty years ago. And it’s been way too long since I wrote anything just for fun. So it’s been kind of a wild practice, and now it’s out there, and I want to tell you about it.

The fic is called “A Woman of Your Century,” and it is a rewrite of the Star Trek: The Original Series episode “Space Seed,” but imagines Khan as a woman. [You don’t need to have seen the episode to get the story, but here’s a quick synopsis: the Enterprise encounters a ship full of sleeping humans and wakes one—Khan Noonien-Singh, played by Ricardo Montalban. The crew soon realizes that Khan is an “augment”—one of a group of genetically engineered superhuman despots who took over Earth in the 1990s, causing the disastrous Eugenics Wars. Khan tries to take over the Enterprise so that he can conquer the galaxy. Khan nearly kills Kirk; fist fights ensue; Khan loses, and Kirk ditches the augments on an abandoned planet (thus setting the scene for Star Trek II: Wrath of Khan twenty years later).] 

“Space Seed” is my favorite Trek episode, hands down. Khan is a pretty interesting villain—ruthless, narcissistic, ambitious—and the augment storyline has always been incredibly compelling to me, especially as it gets picked up and developed further in several other series. That said, the episode isn’t without its flaws; like many TOS episodes, the premise didn’t need to be thought through any more than was required of its 50 minutes, and later attempts to explain the augments’ history tended to introduce more questions and canonical conflicts. And then there’s the squick-inducing relationship between Khan and the ship’s historian, Marla McGivers—a relationship that provides plot devices, but has a deeply fucked dynamic. I mean, he negs her over her hair, and she decides, yeah, I’d engineer a mutiny for this man. You can tell the writers really respected women. 

Then a friend said: could you imagine how this story would have gone if Khan had been a woman?

Oh. Oh—

Yes. Yes, I can imagine that. 

I started thinking about what would change if Khan were a woman. How would the crew of the Enterprise react to such a powerful female villain? How would it unfuck Marla’s interactions (or not)? What kind of rivalry would develop between Kirk and Khan? TOS doesn’t skip female villainy, but does tend to keep it squarely in the realm of “seductress acting on behalf of a male.” The limitations of midcentury masculinity make it hard to imagine Kirk seeing a woman as a true threat—as a mind on par with his own (let alone far beyond it). 

Thinking through the gender-bent implications also led me to considering the story from Khan’s point of view. It’s a tricky balance—Khan is a genocidal sociopath with the blood of millions on his hands. Let’s not defend that, maybe! At the same time, there’s a reason the best villains are humanized: we need to be able to see ourselves in the monstrous, and the monstrous in ourselves. Cartoon evil is boring and unrealistic. But finding ways to create sympathy for a villain—without condoning them!—is very interesting. 

Rewriting “Space Seed” let me not only explore material I adored, not only fill in minor plot holes, not only build out augment backstory—it also let me highlight the current of sexism and misogyny that has always been part of Trek, and blow it up real good. Marla’s treatment in the original—and the crew’s reverence for Khan’s aggression—both speak volumes about gender attitudes in the 1960s (and, uh, beyond). But swapping genders—Khan for Khana and Marla for Marlow—forces (I hope) a reexamination of character, of narrative, of values. Which is what science fiction is for, after all.

Also: it was just fucking fun to do. Which makes me wonder if I should…write more fic? (I’m open to ideas! What should I try next?) Either way: thanks, friends, and happy reading!

[aurorafables]

From the Grey, Chapter 2.

First of all, thank you for the likes and reblogging 😊 you just made my day when I saw any activity on my post. The story will be more than 20 chapters, so it's time for the second part. Enjoy! 😉

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic

Word Count: 3.7k

Cross-posted: AO3

2.

All four of us hated interviews, and no matter how much we tried to take some of the burden off Noah's shoulders, as the main lyricist and music writer, as well as the lead singer of the band, most of the time it fell to him to answer the questions. Over the years, he got better at it, and he took the hurdles more easily from interview to interview. He could dissolve in a few minutes, and if asked about the process of creation, he could talk for hours.

We were in one of our label's offices between two concerts. Noah was called from a magazine, and they were talking on video call, and I, out of the picture, stretched out in the mustard yellow faux leather armchair with my cell phone. I was only half paying attention to the conversation, but sometimes I got lost in Noah's soothing voice while I was replying to my girlfriend's messages. When the possible connection between his lyrics and his experiences came up, I looked at him a little worried. I could only half see his face from behind his laptop screen, but I waited with bated breath for an answer. Noah thought for a moment, then revealed as much as he could, but gave as vague an answer as possible. “ … I'm trying to find the limit so that everyone can relate to what they’re going through, at least for the most part. And I also think it’s kind of corny sometimes to be like too specific and… it takes out the fun of it, the whole thing loses its effect and its poetry. In addition, I don't like to express my life and personal experiences too much through the lyrics. I want them to talk about my music, not me.” I was damn proud of him, and I think it was written on my face, because he glanced over at me and gave me a thumbs up under the table where only I could see. I was afraid that he would be put in an uncomfortable situation, that things he didn't want to talk about would be taken out of him, but he solved it professionally and then steered the conversation to slightly lighter topics. I remembered the moment when he was afraid and pushed the little notebook in front of me that hid the pieces of his soul.

We were both at the tattoo parlor trying to pass the time until closing time. Noah had finished a nice bathroom cleaning that I had done when I was a newbie, and was sitting on the corner sofa, holding a notebook that I've seen him carry a lot lately. I looked up from my sketch and watched him bite his lip as he wrote something down. Then he drew out a line, brushed a strand of hair that hung in his face behind his ear, and resumed writing. It was always good to spend time together, even if we were just sitting in the same room and lost in our own things. The silence was also pleasant with him. I really realized this when Noah spent the night with someone else a few days earlier. I had a hard time falling asleep, and even when I did, I woke up an hour later. It was five in the morning when I checked my phone for the umpteenth time and put it back on the windowsill in frustration because he hadn't texted me. I mentally forbade myself to ask him if he was okay, but it cost me to wake up the next morning as a zombie and go to work. It wasn't until the next night - as I listened to Noah breathe softly on the mattress - that I realized that I was missing it. The sound of his breathing. I glanced at the clock—we still had at least twenty minutes—then closed the sketchbook, stretched out, and sat down next to Noah on the couch. The corner of his mouth turned up as he realized I was there, but otherwise he didn't bother, continued to write, only looking up again when he seemed to have reached the end. Whatever he was doing. I didn't know him as someone who writes a diary, so my first guess would have been song lyrics. But I didn't really have to grope in the dark for long, because he opened his notebook and handed it to me. I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but took it from him without a word. I detected a slight nervousness in his dark brown eyes, and he added to it when he started biting his lower lip. I knew it was a big deal that was happening and I just felt I was the first to read into his notebook. Noah pulled up one leg, rested his chin on his knee, and looked at me as I began to read between the transcribed, drawn out lines.

"I see through you I know what you are I've seen the Devil more than I've seen God And when he has you by your neck I hope you choke on every fucking word you said" "You've dug your grave and you have no one but yourself to blame I see the world in black and white Because true color always fades under the right lights"*

“Wow,” I said with a big sigh, and staring in front of me, I tried to process what the lines were saying. I guessed who it might be about, it wasn't hard to figure out who he was so angry with, because these words almost oozed hatred. Then when I got over it, I could finally appreciate it all. "Noah, that's pretty good," I looked at him, and I can only hope that he saw in my eyes how sincerely I said this. Because in my opinion there was no trace of bias, only admiration. “Why don't you show it to your band?” Noah snorted and took the notebook back. “I'm not even seventeen, Nick. Why would they listen to me? Why would they want anything to do with a kid's lyrics?” “Because it's fucking good?” I asked back in disbelief. “No,” he shook his head and threw the notebook and pen into his bag. “It wouldn't make any sense if someone else sang it.” I watched as he quickly packed up and sullenly sank into the soft couch with folded arms. Oh…he never mentioned that. “Do you want to sing, doe?” I asked him with a smile. Noah rolled his eyes at the nickname I had given him a few years ago when he suddenly grew and was all legs and arms. “Why would I want to, when it looks like we'll soon get our first record deal as guitarists?” “Because you are young, full of dreams,” I whispered to him while I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You can be anything else. Just imagine… the audience standing at your feet and singing along with you word for word the songs you wrote.” Noah didn't answer right away, I'm sure he was toying with the idea of ​​what it would be like if… "Nick, you are crazy," he finally said, laughing in confusion. “I'm just fucking tired,” I defended myself, during a yawn. “But I still mean what I said.” I pulled away from him, and Noah just shook his head in disbelief. In the four years we've known each other, I've noticed that he reacts strangely when I tell him he can do something big. It hurts to think that the reason for this could be that in his childhood he was constantly trying to destroy him to such an extent that he simply cannot deal with encouragement. It's like he expects me to laugh at him after that and tell him to forget it, he'll never be able to do that. And yes, it still hurt a little that he assumed that about me, but I understood it was unfortunately coded into his DNA. Words and their amazing power… However, there is something more here: his desire to prove himself, his determination and perseverance. “I hate so much that I can't put these in her face anymore,” he spoke after a while, almost muttering. It's like he's tired of all this a long time ago. Our eyes met and without a word I slid closer to hug him. "I know… I know," I whispered into his hair, then kissed his head. His dreams trumped everything, which makes me very proud of him. He started to build his life nicely, and before our first album was completely finished, our song Glass Houses also received the last touches and expansions on the text, just to make it all round:

"You said I'd never make it You said I'd make a mistake But now I'm right where I belong and you've got nothing to say"*

Noah founded a new band that was all his own, he started singing, and the audience is already singing along. And his mother has been rotting in a cemetery ever since, but perhaps not so deep that if thousands of people were shouting at the same time, she wouldn't hear the message intended for her.

We stepped out of the air-conditioned office into the Californian heat and the hustle and bustle of the street. I put on my sunglasses and waited for Noah to find his before we hit the road. People went to lunch, and at that time they poured out of the offices, and although we didn't fit in with the figures in suits and costumes, we still tried to remain invisible. Jolly and Folio were waiting for us at a Mexican restaurant just a few blocks from the Sumerian Records office. We stopped at a red light, and as the asphalt almost steamed from the heat, I regretted not tying my hair before we left the office. I ran my hands under my thick curls and lifted my hair a little. Noah looked at me and smiled. "There are advantages to having short hair, you know," he remarked, and I just stuck out my tongue. “Maybe some people can do whatever he want with his hairstyle, but I think my magic lies in my hair,” I answered him. “I can't believe that. When I met you, your hair was still short, and even then…” he began, but the light turned green, so we set off in the rushing crowd. “What then?” I asked him when we got through. Noah glanced at me from behind his glasses and shrugged. “Even then, you were you.” I furrowed my brows at his answer, but did not pursue the matter further. We were approaching a Starbucks, and I had already guessed that we would have a stop there. I was right, because Noah touched my arm and motioned with his head towards the entrance. I followed him, and I didn't mind that there were a few ahead of us, because at least we could cool down in there. "I'm getting the key to Steven's lake cottage next week," Noah said unexpectedly, while I squinted at the list of iced drinks on the wall behind the counter. Then I turned to him and waited for him to continue. “If you think so, of course, only if you want to… it would be great if you could join me.” Noah had pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, I could see his eyes full of hope. I don't even remember the last time we went somewhere without the boys. "The thing is…" Noah continued while I was lost in my thoughts, "I miss you. Since I've been living in California with the others, we don't hang out much outside of the band.” He spoke my thoughts out loud in their entirety. We had another concert on Saturday this week, then two weeks of rest, which I would have liked to have spent with him, but then something came up to my mind. “I promised to come to Maya's mom's birthday party next week.” Storm clouds appeared on Noah's face. As fast as being doused with a bucket of ice water. He's always had a hard time with rejection…and besides, he's never waited to find out if it really was rejection. “Then…” “I have to be at the party organized by my girlfriend. But that doesn't mean I have to stay with them for the second week,” I told him with a small smile as I ran my palm over his forearm. “So yes, you can count on me, along with a dozen mosquitos.” Noah finally smiled genuinely, flashing his white teeth as his eyes narrowed and his small laugh lines deepened. I was instantly euphoric, but the thought that I would still have done anything to see him happy was terrifying. It was soon our turn to order, but for some reason I got really stuck studying his face. I watched him speak — I couldn't even remember what I ordered in the end — and I thought to myself what a strange coincidence that Maya is Asian. Until now, I didn't even pay much attention to this, but then our tour in Japan a few years ago popped into my mind.

Noah was lounging in a towel in front of the bathroom mirror, drying his hair. I sat on the bed in his hotel room and waited for him to finish, because we had to go to the rehearsal. I fumbled with my phone when I found a picture from the day before with both of us tagged. When we went sightseeing, some fans came up to us and we took a picture with them. Back then, it was still rare to be recognized on the street. I grinned and got up to go to the bathroom to show the picture to Noah as he had been in a weird mood all day and I expected it to cheer him up a bit. I raised my cell phone in front of his face. Noah stopped brushing his hair and put the hairbrush on the counter, then took the phone from me. He looked at the photo with critical eyes, then looked into the mirror, where our eyes met. He returned the mobile and said nothing. He turned on the hotel's hair dryer and began the operation with complete resignation, and I stood beside him, confused. “Is something wrong?” I asked in the loud noise. “What did you say?” he asked back after turning off the hair dryer. I sighed and leaned against the counter. "I thought you'd like it here," I admitted. ”It's a big adventure that we got this far with the band, and besides, hey, we're in Japan!” I spread my arms in confusion. Noah looked at me silently, his eyes shining darkly, then finally just shook his head. “Should I get more excited because we are in the birthplace of Manga and Anime?” he asked cynically. I wanted so badly to understand… I wanted to know what was going through his mind. I wasn't satisfied with that answer. "Your roots lead back here," I said quietly. Noah snorted and ran the brush over his hair again. “I have no roots. I'm just going with the flow.” “Do you mean you hate Japan?” “Why should I love it? Nothing binds me here except my mother's devil plan to not rest until she gives birth to a half-breed child.” I've heard this story before, and since then I haven't been able to understand what kind of person is, who is able to wade through all emotions and reason for the sake of a fixation. “This place… it just confirms to me that I don't fit in completely here either.” I remembered the bullying he received at school for being different from the others, which must have contributed to his dropping out of education at the age of fifteen. The blue bruise on his cheekbone and how he wouldn't even admit to me that one of his idiot classmates had laid a hand on him. Things got a little better when he started hanging out with us, the graduates who were three years older, but after graduation I couldn't protect him anymore. Freak, bastard, mix, little girl because of his long hair, fag… and these are just the adjectives he told me, who knows what words were thrown at his head. I have already received some of these, but it hurt much more to know that Noah had to face this every day. I looked up at him, because he was already half a head taller than me, and I only spoke when he was finally paying attention to me. “I don't know how much my opinion matters, but I think your mother's only good decision is that you exist.” I turned away and left him alone in the bath. Let his rage some more if he felt he needed to, but first I wanted to let him know how important he was to me. The next day, when we were in Nara, the city of deers, Noah finally smiled after a week. Indeed, his whole face brightened and he fed the animals as happily as a small child. As he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and tried to hold back a burst of laughter as he idly watched me being torn apart by some naughty deers for a few morsels of food, I realized that digging into things the day before had been worth it.

Noah was a step ahead of me, checking on his phone if we were going in the right direction, and I was behind him sipping my shake, which turned out to be chocolate flavored after the first taste. My gaze drifted to his broad shoulders, then to his tattooed biceps, which tensed slightly as he gestured with his iced coffee towards a street where we had to turn. I would have bet that none of his old classmates would have dared to bully him again. The others were already sitting at the table when we arrived. Jolly noted that he was already starting to starve, which didn't seem like much of a problem since the appetizer was already on the table. Noah immediately threw himself on some roasted, spicy peppers while I browsed the drink menu. “How was the interview?” asked Folio, his cold beer in hand. I glanced up at them from behind the little notebook. “The usual," Noah shrugged, then licked his finger. “Don't worry, it wasn't mentioned that you fell on your ass on the way down the stairs at the last concert,” he added with an evil grin, for which our drummer punched him on the shoulder in return. We all started laughing. I remembered walking off the stage two days ago, exhausted, Folio coming after me, and then after a big thump - which I could hear clearly even through the loud shouting of the audience - I looked back and thought he was gone, but then I saw him sitting on the metal steps. Fortunately, he was not harmed. “I thought I would rest a bit,” Folio defended himself. “Some people hold only one microphone the whole time, and I am the one who trains hard on stage for an hour and a half. You should try it sometime, Noah.” “I'm still perfect the way I’m,” Noah looked at me and we smiled at each other. “You don't want to hear my drumming skill,” he added horrified. "Personally, I don't want to hear Folio sing," I interjected, and the others laughed and nodded in agreement. “Great, then everything will remain as it was,” concluded Jolly. The waiter came out and took our order. Noah asked for half the menu because he wanted to try everything, so I only ordered a burrito. I felt that I would have leftovers from his order.

“And what are your plans for the break?” Folio asked. "I'm meeting Maya," I answered. “I am going home to the family in Sweden,” said Jolly. “I have to record some vocals, then I will rest,” Noah answered. “With Karin?” Folio asked back. The mood at the table suddenly became frosty. Noah snorted but didn't say anything, just poked at the napkin. I felt that somehow I had to save him from this unpleasant situation. "That wouldn't be about rest," I said, the first thing that came to mind. It seemed like a good idea to play it off with a joke, but when Noah turned his head toward me, he looked at me like he couldn't believe I just said that. I already regretted speaking. "I'll be right back, guys," Noah said, still staring at me like I'd grown a second head. He headed for the bathrooms and I was so damn tempted to follow him and find out what was wrong, but I couldn't. I didn't want to run after him in front of our friends like I was his puppy, so I sighed and put my hands on my knees as if I could hold my legs back from the walk. "It would be good to neglect this Karin subject, Folio," said Jolly, then turned to me. “Don't feel bad about it. We didn't know we couldn't even joke with him.” I actually felt bad because I didn't know… I had no idea what was going on between Noah and the girl, so I didn't even think about hurting my best friend. Noah acted like I didn't exist that day. He quickly finished his lunch and said he had work to do and had to go. I stayed there with the boys and a pile of food. The tension eased a bit for our weekend concert, but it was still fucked up.

Suddenly, I found myself on the plane home, still not sure what happened at the restaurant. I've regretted a thousand times that I didn't go and find out what was wrong. I could only hope that we would be able to discuss it next week, and that was only one of the reasons why I couldn't wait to fly back to him in California.

*Bad Omens - Glass Houses

[mike----wazowski]

4, 5, 10, or 18?

hey thanks for the ask anon! 🫡

4. how many wips i have right now

in terms of active progress for fanfic... 💀 ive been focusing on my original stuff recently, bc i had like 6 months of rgg craze where i was only writing rgg content shshfh. oh and i also recently updated a fic i left for 3 years so i guess that counts as a wip? rn its a bit dry in the fanfic department tho

5. a fic idea i’ve had that i will never write

ooh god my notes app is full of these. one was a joongi idea where theres still one photo left of his past face in his old school yearbook, and he finds the courage to seek out that yearbook and see the last remaining photo of his old self. i actually still want to write that tbh but my brain is Disorganised so idk if it will happen

another was a shinadai fic idea where shinada's profession is utilised 😮‍💨 in which daigo proofreads a draft of his smut (listen im allowed to have my fun too i dont ALWAYS want to write miserable character drama 😭😭) (yes daigo nitpicks the grammar)

ooh and another fic where i literally wrote over 5k words about a depressed daigo spending a few days at morning glory with kiryu and the kids... why did i just drop that what the fuck i wrote so much of it

10. is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

basically all of them bc i always think people will hate them 💀💀 but seriously, the shinadai fic definitely. i spent months writing that purely just for myself and my own self indulgence and i thought absolutely zero people would care but i got some really lovely thoughtful comments and reactions to it :) like it seemed to have an impact and i was so happy and surprised to see that. glad to know the shinadai nation has more than three people!

18. one of my favourite lines i've written in a fic

AAAAA thats hard lmao. a recent line i liked was from my joongi fic

Yeon-su wails when he sees himself in the mirror- where am I? Where have I gone?

i could talk for several years about how barbaric his backstory is but yeah i wanted to capture the potential reaction someone might have when they wake up to see theyve been surgically reconstructed to be someone else

[i3utterflyeffect]

Echoes of Saints

hey so i can’t access my ao3 account rn but i wrote another whole fic about the idea of sliver of straw being saint. this time it’s abt saint’s ascension <3 warning for a brief mention of attempted suicide, nothing too big

Edit: Now on AO3

The endless winding of the cycle.

It was something fae had accepted as fact; a never ending repetition that came from nowhere.

Again, and again.

The void sea pulsed.

It’d come and go in waves, the attunement. Some days fae was curled up in the shelter, shivering away, wanting nothing more than warmth.

Other days, the ice across fae’s fur was nothing but a distant feeling. A sobering shock to the mind, as the bitter teas and gravel had been many ages ago.

How long had it been? How long had fae been sent, again and again, to find the next being in need of their service?

The cycles were to many to count, of course. It was simply a distant curiosity, some remnant of the curious mind Sliver once held, now jaded and silenced by the repetition.

Another life. Another iterator.

Each time, fae would seek out the echoes. Listen to their grief, stand under the karma they shed.

Another life, another iterator.

It wasn’t fun. No, not at all. But fun did not matter. This is what fae was made to create— perhaps fae was not prepared to administer it faerself, but that wasn’t a reason to be upset.

No. It wasn’t.

…another life.

Another iterator.

Fae had to admit, fae was sad to see Looks To The Moon go. Faer was a younger peer, and despite the long distance, they always enjoyed chatting when they could.

And as for Five Pebbles… well, clearly he had needed it. From what little fae knew, the younger iterator had tried to commit the taboo of self-destruction, and failed tragically, inducing rot upon his systems.

Jealousy was not a pretty thing when it came to Sliverists.

…it still struck fae as strange to call them by that name.

But faer mind was wandering from the task at hand.

Perhaps fae was simply too used to having time. Repeating an endless cycle always gave you that.

But now that everyone was gone, and now that they had traversed beyond the rubicon, fae had nothing left to do… except go up.

With a lash of faer tongue, fae dragged themselves upward, into the thicker air above.

The air grew souplike as fae did so. It was so thick that fae could nearly taste it.

The burn of the void seemed distant as they swam up, familiar lights in their vision.

Creatures swam through the abyss as usual, buzzing by with no care to inspect Sliver as they swam upwards.

The burn of the sea— the lights— they felt comforting with the knowledge that their work was done. Even if fae only echoed through reality with faer disappearance, it was a welcome fate.

One that the ancients did not give fae.

Fae had earned faer fate, and a special kind of satisfaction settled in their chest at that.

The noise in their ears grew louder, like the pulse of water running through conduits, or perhaps a river.

But suddenly, something rushed past, and their path was interrupted.

A grey and red streak blew through Sliver’s vision, the presence causing a pulse in the void sea.

Again and again, it beat against Sliver, a punishing set of waves that were more powerful than any leviathan’s wake.

And as quickly as the rush had started, it stopped.

Huge, alien eyes stared down, as a head on a tendril leaned down to observe.

Sounds filled Sliver’s head. Sounds they did not understand. The light was filling their eyes now, and as they took a breath in, suddenly, they understood something.

This was the creature that watched over. The creature that had created Karma, perhaps, or simply just the enforcer.

The reason for their existence.

Its eyes held no benevolence, only empty judgement.

And suddenly, Sliver knew.

Sliver knew it had to end.

Fae opened their eyes

and locked

onto

faer

target.

A blast of light penetrated the void as the creature wailed, swimming upwards. It wound and wound, and suddenly, all of the symbols seemed to make sense.

They counted down.

And then, they were nonsensical.

And then, once Sliver blinked, everything was gone.

Their mind empty, they pulled themself upwards through the sea.

But as they swam, thoughts intruded upon their peace.

Is this what the ancients hoped for?

This does not feel like peace.

This does not feel like an ending.

I feel incomplete. I did everything they asked of me.

Why does it still ache?

I am still swimming. Ever and ever.

I can feel it burning through my chest.

This is not what we wanted.

This is not what I wanted.

Why did they leave us here to build towards an ending for them?

I miss my friends.

I miss having a home.

I miss the taste of lilypucks and orange goo and blue fruits.

I miss everything.

Sliver of Straw opened faer eyes, and remembered.

And remembered.

And remembered.

And remembered.

No one else would remember it for fae.

So fae would remember the stories history did not care to record.

Fae closed faer eyes.

Fae could see everything.

[commence-screaming]

hiii its me again!!!

anyways idea for bain angst:in your fics bain’s coping mechanism for being kidnapped is to daydream about his crew. when hes finally rescued, hes not convinced this isnt a dream, but hes terrified of waking up alone in that cell. so he refuses to sleep because of that fear which worries the hell out of everyone. eventually he collapses due to exhaustion and when he wakes back up again he finds hes still in the safe house and that everything was real

IT’S YOU AGAIN

I wrote an entire response to this and then tumblr ate it. This happens when the internet is spotty but I’m still mad about it

There’s actually a fic already existing with this concept, part 3 of torture fic miniseries :) the gang is worried about bain in the background… heheheh is a dream

The ending of the fic was up to the reader to decide ♥️ I was gonna have a sequel to it, a dual POV where there’s both Bain in his cell and Bain waking up in the Safe House. A few paragraphs like this

…and a few like this

It was supposed to be a metaphor for mirroring and about how Bain feels like he’s in both places at once sometimes because of his trauma. Bro got constantly shocked and it would’ve turned a normal human’s brain into sludge

I had a whole summary of it I wrote for an ex friend of mine. it’s too painful to go through everything again so I won’t be doing that. I did try, though. It was too hard to find

I think it was supposed to have Bain realizing that it was real and he acted like an idiot the previous day 😭 he tries to pull away but Dallas assures him that he won’t make fun of him and that it’s okay to stick around. Bain stays and slowly relaxes when the OG 4 walks in on them cuddling and Bain is 😳⁉️

They start teasing this man relentlessly. I also think I didn’t want to write it because it would have tw romance tag AND tw (self harm among other things)

Looking through my old drafts I can see a bunch of things I never finished haha

That first one is from the unfinished second chapter of that bartender fic! The second was from a fic featuring this OC that a server I’m in contributed to and made :) the third one is from an eldritch AU. I’m never gonna finish it for personal reasons, but I’ve always liked this one bit.

There’s a lot of stuff I started last year but I lost motivation for everything because. You know. Anyway it’s not like I haven’t been writing (SECRET SANTA AAAAAA) but it’s been hard man 😔