#i was just going to draft this but y'know what. i will never end up touching it again if i do that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

etherealily · 2 months ago

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𝕊𝕀ℕ // 🇳🇦🇹🇪 🇯🇦🇨🇴🇧🇸

No one seemed to like the cliffhanger, so here's a draft that i converted into a makeshift part 6.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. NSFW. Drugs. Contains brief explicit content.

Part 1 : Whiplash Part 2 : 9 Lives Part 3 : Blessed Part 4 : Shards Part 5 : Eighteen

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

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Nate had never been more pissed in his life. Ever. You'd blatantly disobeyed him. Well, not technically. No technically, you hadn't been told anything, but he'd have figured you weren't so dense as to go and visit Shane motherfucking Crestin in the motherfucking ER !

Honestly. It's like you had one braincell and all it told you was to piss him off.

And fuck him. He definitely saw that in your eyes the last time.

Or was that the molly?

Probably the molly.

But whatever. The fact was, you wanted to fuck him, and he wanted to fuck you, and he had no idea why you wanted him out of your life if that was the case. Wasn't that fate? Two people want something so bad, they should end up doing it, no? Not going and visiting the reason they couldn't do it in the ER.

Yeah, he decided.

Yes. They. Should.

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He'd figured you would avoid him like the plague, anyway. So he didn't care if it reached you or not that he was helping McKay host a party. So imagine his surprise when, after about two months of no contact, you showed up at his party.

"Whoa."

You frowned. "Excuse me?'

"What happened to 'get the fuck out of my life, Nate?' What, were you just full of it?"

"Dude. If me being here bothers you that much, I'll just fucking leav-"

"Jeez, don't be a baby, short stuff.", he cooed, patting your head before slinging an arm around you. "C'mon, let's do shots."

"Hey, whoa, whoa, none of this friendliness."

He rolled his eyes, removing his hand from you. "Fine. C'mon. I missed you."

And the problem was, he did. He actually fucking missed you. Which was the weirdest thing to happen to him since... well, birth. It wasn't anything in particular, it wasn't even the fact that you were easy on the eyes.

He, like a fucking simp, just liked you being around him.

With as much trepidation as a sycophant scorned by his master, he gently, reverently, offered you a shot. "For old times' sake?"

You rolled your eyes, taking it from him. "For old times' sake? Like, the time you got me drunk at school?'

He smiled, his hand slowly back around your shoulder as he tugged you closer, kissing your temple. "We could always go back, y'know?", he murmured next to your ear. "Get high on the bleachers again."

"No."

"C'mon, we haven't hung out in two months. Ditch these fakes. I'm the fun one, anyway."

Jesus.

He took a long drag of his vape, the smoke bombarding your face. He proferred it to you and frowned when you declined. "Why not?"

"I don't vape."

"Are you one of those bitches that says 'smoke a real cigarette'?"

"No, I don't smoke at all."

He rolled his eyes. "We're going to the bleachers."

It was weird, to say the least, the air between you two back at the bleachers. You sat, looking up at the sky, the grass, anywhere but his eyes, and he sat with his head on your lap.

Silence covered the two of you until he sighed. "Can we just pick up where we left off?"

"And where was that?"

"With me almost eating you out."

You scoffed. You wouldn't have done that if you thought he was being serious. You wouldn't have done that if you were entirely sober. But you didn't and you weren't, so you scoffed. "Right. Yeah. Sure."

"I'm not joking. You're making this harder than it needs to be. There isn't any ulterior motive, this is just... boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy-"

"Debatable.", you muttered, but he ignored it.

"-Boy wants to fuck girl, girl wants to fuck boy, boy fucks girl. Why are you adding shit? Do you want drama? Is that what this is? Because we could do drama. I could do drama like you've never fucking seen before!"

In Nate speak, that meant he had a big dick and he wanted you to know.

"Look. It's just too complicated. You've- there's too much-"

"Forget it all. 'Kay? Just you and me.", he replied immediately, sitting up.

"Because you quote-unquote 'love' me."

"Exactly that." His lips found yours, and surprisingly, this time, you actually had a spine and pulled away.

"What the FUCK?"

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and stroked your cheek as he shifted and knelt down. "Can we skip the part where you scream 'what the fuck, what the fuck' and push me away and get to the part where you admit you want me? I've had a long day."

Seeing him down there did nothing to make you feel safer.

"Nate-"

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, please, just, for the love of god-", he muttered, as if you were being an inconvenience at the moment and not him, the asshat on his knees. "Would you just relax?"

"Look, Y/N. I love you.", he said, and his hands slowly slid up to the hem of your shirt, his thumb rubbing the skin right under it. "Let me show you."

"You don't love me. Stop saying that."

"Fine, then. I want you. And stop telling me you don't want me, like it's a mortal sin or something.", he warned, gripping the backs of your thighs.

Sadly, you couldn't entirely blame this on the molly this time.

It definitely contributed to the decision, but mostly to the fact that it made every single touch of his explode with a robust... flavour that you couldn't replicate even if you tried.

He smiled up at you so softly you'd think he was on his knees to propose. But no. Instead of opening up a little box, he opened the fly to your pants.

"Can you look at me, please?"

You sighed, looking down. "What?"

"You really don't look like you're against this. I'd even go so far as to say you want me, but you're too much of a pussy to admit it."

You did want him. BUT. You were against this. Because it was wrong. But you were letting him kiss up your thighs, bite at your lower abdomen.

Meaning it was the world according to Nate and it both infuriated you and turned you on.

FUCK.

Hums came from both your mouth and his, and before you knew it, your fingers felt nothing but the locks of his hair, pulling so hard there was no way he wasn't in pain. And he must have been, because gently, so seamlessly, he trailed his hand up to yours, removing it from his hair and interlocking it with his own.

But he didn't pause. His tongue continued doing... well, whatever the hell it was doing that made you want to stab the Earth for being able to produce Nate Jacobs as well as praise it for... well, being able to produce Nate Jacobs.

"You're a virgin?", he asked, breathless, raising a brow in incredulity.

You'd be lying if you said your brain even registered his question - registered anything but his tongue and lips.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Why? Don't tell me this is still a test to see if I'm easy or not-"

"It's not.", he assured, reaching up slowly, and then kissing your cheek of all fucking places. One of his hands trailed back down and into you while the other one immediately closed your mouth, though you had no idea why. It was a fucking desolate high school football field. No one was going to hear anyway.

He grinned, pressing his forehead against yours as he added another finger, curling them as he worked into you. "Shh, shh, shh.", he murmured, after probably feeling the results of you trying not to lose your shit beneath his palm.

"See? We go great together."

You screamed. But it didn't quite carry.

He frowned in confusion for a moment when you made a muffled noise and then muttered an 'ah' as he gently removed his palm from your mouth.

"That's not..."

"Hm? That's not what?"

You could have killed yourself right there, because he smirked is what he did. He smirked when you couldn't finish (and barely even start) your sentences.

"That's not even remotely..."

You were stalling. That was clear. Why? You didn't know. There was no logical reason. He was already fucking inside you, there was no point in backing out of this now.

But there was reason to hesitate.

He sighed, licking his lips and shaking his head in disappointment, brushing hair from your face. "Hey."

"What?"

"If you don't fuck me right now, I will lose my shit. I will cut myself. I will play Russian Roulette again. That work for you?"

Oh, this sick, sick, sick, SICK motherfucker.

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Why you did it? Question for the ages.

You should've said no. You should've gone home. You didn't go home, though, not even after the fact. You probably should have.

Instead, you found yourself back at Fezco's store. Not voluntarily, either, it just seemed your car was as drained as you were, and you forgot to fill it back up.

"Rue?", you called out into what you imagined to be an abyss. Her voice appeared like light at the end of a tunnel. "Hey."

"You high?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I need someone to pick me up."

"Maddy's not free?"

"I didn't check."

"Well.", she groaned, shifting around, clearly in some sort of drug-induced discomfort, "You should. I don't wanna kill you, y'know, you mean so fucking much to me."

The sarcasm in her voice was mildly hurtful, but hey. At least she cared enough not to kill you.

More than Nate had ever cared.

"Okay."

So, of course, you called Cassie. Because no fucking way were you calling Maddy to come pick you up from the store owned by the local dealer, which was suspiciously close to the party thrown by her ex.

The car ride with her was smooth and lovely and peaceful. Because she was smooth and lovely and peaceful.

"You think your car will be safe, out there, all night?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I told Fez. He knows what to do."

"Y/N, I... I've noticed you've been off, like, the last term or so."

You did not need her therapy session right now.

"Nah, I'm fine."

"You're not.", she chuckled, nervously, shaking her head as she slowed down at the red light. "You seem on edge. I think it's cause of him."

"Him?" WHAT? How the fuck did this ditz know?

"Yeah. Like, I don't know, maybe you're in love with him, and you think it's, like... forbidden, because he's a bad influence or something, but you just kinda look... strung out. Like there's a huge secret you're keeping."

She was supposed to be clueless about what was going on around her. Isn't that the thing they say about hot blondes?

"Love? In love? With who?"

"Fezco, of course. I get it, he's a dealer, but he's also hot, and I guess, let's face it, he's quite nice for a criminal."

Oh, thank god. The dumb blonde theory stands.

"I'm not in love with Fez."

"Then why are you so... off?"

"I...", you sighed, deciding to stick to the truth as much as safely possible. "I got in with some bad people during spring break."

The look of concern on her face made you want to apologize and buy her whatever she wanted, or maybe even confess to every fucking sinful thought you'd ever had.

"What? Oh, my god, what? Like, hard drugs and shit?"

"More like guns and shit."

"Y/N, WHAT?!"

"Yeah, it was fucked up, but I'm out of it now, though, so you don't have to worry, okay, Cass? I'm peachy. I'm great, honest! Hey, it's turning amber."

She frowned, turning back to the road in front of her. "You sure?"

You'd never been more grateful for Nate throwing the lamp to your right rather than your left.

You'd never been more grateful for Nate giving you a hickey on your right rather than your left.

You nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, though."

"So. Did you... you went to his party, right? Did you see him? Did you guys talk?"

It took you a moment to figure out that she was talking about her ex.

"McKay? Yeah. Yeah."

"How is he? Did he mention me?"

"He's, um... he's doing fine, I guess. He looks like he misses you, but you know him. He probably won't tell me."

"I just... maybe we... I just want to, um... fix things."

"You should."

"You think?"

You nodded. What the fuck else could you do to distract her from the fact that if she took one look down, she'd see Nate blowing up your phone? "Yeah, you guys were great together."

You instantly cringed. Because that was what Nate had said about you and him. "See? We go great together."'

"I don't know if I want him back, or what. What do you think?"

That I just fucked Nate Jacobs. And that the molly was only half of it. That I'm going to kill myself.

"I think... I think you broke up for a reason, Cass."

She nodded, and the rest of the car ride went in pleasant silence.

Then she dropped you home.

And Rue was waiting for you.

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"You're pissing me off. What is this, blackmail?'

"Yeah. It is. I saw you two in the bleachers, and if you tell people I'm not sober, I'll let it slip that you let Nate Jacobs inside you."

Keep your calm. If you show even a tiny sign of accepting that she was right, you're dead meat. "It was a psych project. He had just finished a practice, so we sat there and finished some work."

"With tequila?"

Silence. Okay. She was not talking about tonight. She was talking about the gun-night. This was salvageable.

"Funnily enough, Y/N, according to what Lexi told me, there's been no 'psych assignment-slash-project.'"

"Rue-"

"So you've not only been lying to all of us, you've been betraying Maddy. And you've done Jules so wrong.'

"Look, you don't even know-"

"Then tell me."

So you did. You told her about the Instagram story, you told her about the Russian roulette, hell, you even told her about the dinner and the scar. What you didn't tell her about was the sex. The mind-blowing guilt-inducing sex.

"But I saw you kiss him on the bleachers."

"I was drunk, Rue. I'd have let the fucking janitor kiss me."

"Look, Y/N, those are my terms."

"You're asking me to lie to everyone about your health, your wellbeing! We're all looking out for you, Rue! Y'can't just blackmail me into not doing right by you."

"As nice as that is, the fact still stands that you fucked Nate."

FUCK!

"Rue, please-"

"He doesn't even fucking want you. He wants to get back at Maddy, and you're too fucked out to see it!"

"Rue, you're crossing the li-"

"I bet that fucking him was the only thing you've been doing this whole time. What, did you fuck him when Maddy was with him?"

Rue laughed after you slapped her and that definitely told you she was so high she couldn't even feel it. "C'mon. Grow up.", she scoffed, tucking hair behind your ear. "Girl code's not important anymore, is it? We're all eighteen - adults - now."

WHY must everyone always do that with your hair? So fucking condescendingly, too?!

"Rue, I didn't fuck Nate Jacobs."

"Then why is he blowing up your phone? Yeah, you think I didn't notice the name on your screen?"

"He blows up my phone because he's a psycho- I told you about the Russian Roulette thing and the gun and the slit wris-"

"Yeah, but you said you asked him to leave you alone and he did. Why would he break no contact? What could've happened?"

"Rue, I am not going to help you fake sobriety in front of your family- I- Rue, what is that?"

She frowned, looking down and following your line of sight. Her bag. The front zip. A needle. She looked back up, deadpan. "Fent."

"RUE! YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME T-"

"Look, Y/N, I like you, I do. There's no reason for you to worry, okay? If you could be quiet, your life will go on as it always does. No reputation loss, no guilt, no embarrassment."

"This will kill you! I can't do that to you, Rue, please!"

"But you can do Nate Jacobs?"

You were genuinely about to strangle this fucking trapper cunt.

"Think about it."

What, had she gotten lessons in blackmail from him?

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That night, you were too fucking exhausted to even question why Nate was knocking at your window. You just opened it for him. You just let him kiss you. You just let him tuck your hair behind your fucking ear.

"I have a question."

"What?"

"Did you visit Shane in the hospital?"

Okay. No way he could have found out about that. You didn't tell a single fucking soul.

"Huh?"

"I beat him up for you. 'Cause he was saying you fucked when you didn't.", he said, his voice oddly calm for a man betrayed.

"I didn't ask you to!"`

"Please.", he scoffed, clapping sarcastically. "Biggest cop-out of the century."

"I didn't!"

"He was calling you a slut, basically. As if you'd just give it up to anyone." What, like he knew you that well?

"Hundreds of people say hundreds of shit about me every fucking day! What am I, supposed to set you on them?"

"You could."

You scoffed.

"I'm being serious. You could say "'sic 'em' " and I'd beat them to a bloody pulp.", he informed, brushing hair over your ear again. "Say it. Tell me someone to beat up. I'll do it. No matter who it is."

"Nate. I didn't ask you to do any of this. I asked you to leave me alone, and you did the opposite!"

"You're acting like I showed up, fucked you, and then just left!"

He clenched his jaw, his grip on the piece of hair he just pushed behind your ear, now shifting to the rest of your hair. "No, cunt. I said 'I love you'. Or did you conveniently forget that?"

Oh. Right. THAT.

"What? You're suddenly acting like a pussy, baby, what's up with that? Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't remember. Don't be a pussy. C'mon, tell me. Oh, yeah, wait a minute, you can't."

"You didn't mean that. You wanted to get what you wanted, so you-"

"You think I say shit like 'I love you' lightly? You think I throw that word around?" Yes, he did, but you didn't need to know that. He decided to deploy the trauma card.

"You've seen what my parents are like. You think I'd abuse the words 'I love you'?"

"I guess not-"

"Yeah. EXACTLY."

Ooh, you were putty in his hands and he almost got a semi because of it.

"Look, okay, fine, Nate, that- that was out of pocket, but you can't expect me to-"

"But I do. I have never lied to you. Have I? I've blackmailed you and threatened you and, fuck, yeah, I've stuck a goddamn gun down your throat, but when have I ever lied?"

"So you're saying you 'love' me and I have to just accept it."

"I'm saying I love you, and you have to just believe it.'

And god help you, you somehow did.

"Rue's blackmailing me."

He mock-gasped. "You're cheating on me, then."

You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips. Him being so calm in the face of danger should make him look foolish in your eyes, not admirable.

And the molly excuse was being held up by string the breadth of dental floss, honestly.

"Does she use firearms as well? Did you think about me the whole time?" He was clearly trying to make you laugh, and it was working.

He kissed your forehead. "What did she blackmail you for?"

"For or about?"

"Both."

"For : keeping her relapse a secret from everyone. About : the gun-night at the bleachers."

"Okay, so the choice is clear."

"What?"

Nate Jacobs had scared you when he'd said he loved you and when he'd said he'd kill himself for you, but he'd never scared you as much as he did with what he said next.

"We just sit back and watch that bitch OD."

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patscorner · 4 months ago

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Love, Paige.

Summary: A letter to you.

wc: 489

Contains: pain

a/n: @makethemhoesmad 😝

part one

______________________________

Dear Y/N,

Y'know for a while, I was angry. At the light for not being longer, angry at the people who talked at your funeral but didn't actually care. I was angry at the drunk asshole who got to live while you lay in a casket. He had the nerve to send flowers, like that'd bring you back.

I was angry at myself, for not doing enough, for letting you drive. For not noticing the headlights sooner, for not waking up before the ambulance got there. I was angry at my mom and my siblings. How could they move on so quickly? How come they get to laugh and have fun, while you're not even allowed a last breath.

I was even angry at you. Angry that after how hard you fought up until the end, just to give up. I was angry because after all we've been through together, you gave up. You stopped fighting.

Until I realized that you didn't. I realized that you fought to the end. Until I realized that you held onto the doctor's hand and pulled a ring out of your jacket. Until I realized you were gonna propose that night. Until I realized that we were mere minutes away from you being my fiancé, and now you're stuck just being my girlfriend.

I wear that ring around my neck everywhere I go. I wore it to the game where we won the national championship against Iowa. I wore it when I was drafted to the WNBA. I wore it when I retired.

It took me five years to glance at another woman, even longer to touch one. It's hard to stop loving someone that you never fell out of love with. I met a woman. Her name is Hannah. She's amazing, beautiful, hilarious, and so understanding. She's not you, though. She knows that. She knows she'll never have all of me because the rest died with you.

Hannah and I have two kids. She let me name them after you. Our little boy has your first name as his middle name. Our baby girl has your middle name as her first. Even though they're not yours, I see you in them. So, I guess I still had some of you in me.

I miss you. I miss you a lot. Not a day goes by where I don't get reminded of you. Everything. I see you in everything.

I see you, except I don't.

What hurts the most is that I know you wouldn't want me to worry about you like this. I know you would probably tell me to get up, and to stop crying, and that it's all gonna be okay. Except it's not. And it hasn't been. Because what makes me okay is you. And you're gone, and you're not coming back.

So after I get old, I'll have to come to you.

Until we meet again.

Love, Paige.

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taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie @averagelobotomyenjoyer @elliewilliamsthang @chelisbae @angelscovee

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momonyu · 2 years ago

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the one that (almost) got away

roronoa zoro x fem!reader

it takes him 12 hours to realize

3.6k words

a/n: ok listen, i think i started writing this like 6+ months ago and it’s just been sitting in my drafts bc idk how to commit to endings so y’all are gonna have to take this as it is. also i have no concept of how sailing works or how long it takes oops

9:00 pm

“y'know, there's really no point to a farewell party if the one leaving isn't there.”

you look up from your spot on the library floor. your eyes land on the green-haired swordsman leaning against the doorframe and you smile.

“i’ll be there in a second. i just have some more stuff to go through.”

zoro eyes the mess of books surrounding you, recognizing a few of nami’s atlases and robin’s textbooks. “you haven’t finished packing yet?”

“i’m mostly done. i’m just trying to decide which books i want to keep.” catching his eye, you joke, “why? you want me gone that bad?”

crossing the room, a scoff leaves his lips. nothing could be further from the truth.

“you got me. i am so sick of you,” he says with a grin. “can’t wait to get rid of the annoying librarian invading my napping spot.”

zoro plops down on the bench behind you, catching a whiff of your shampoo as he lies down. you sit with your back to him, sorting through your piles, but zoro can hear the smile in your voice when you speak.

“you’re such a pretender, eh?”

zoro puts on a look of overdramatic offense, a hand on his chest. “me? you’re talking about me?”

at his poor acting, you turn around. you rest your chin on the bench, your face so close to zoro’s that one could only describe it as a kissable distance.

“you act like i'm all in your space, but nami told me that you never used to spend any time in here at all!”

“pfft, why would you ever trust what that con artist has to say?” zoro pokes your forehead. “you see it with your own eyes. am i or am i not here every day?”

you purse your lips as you think back to the last few months; he’s right.

you’ve spent most of your days in the ship’s library, and zoro has almost always stopped by. in the beginning, it would be for a few minutes, but over the last little while, he’d be in here as long as you were.

zoro smiles as he watches you think, eyebrows furrowed as you replay the last few months in your head. little do you know that this is exactly why the library is his new hideout. watching your pretty little mind work — doing what you love, thinking and studying and reading — is a far better use of his spare time than anything else he could be doing.

“anyway,” he says. “i guess your silly star stories have been a good trade-off.”

now it’s your turn to be mock-offended.

“silly star stories? you’re the one who asked about the constellations in the first place!”

“only because you kept talking about these fictional gods like they actually did something important.”

“says the guy who's completely enthralled by hades,” you roll your eyes.

“king of hell, god of the underworld,” he grins. “that’s my kinda guy.”

zoro laughs when you shake your head at him. he’ll never tire of teasing you; you are far too adorable with your little sigh and a ghost of a smile on your lips.

“did you know,” he says with a playful look. “that you still owe me about ten more constellation stories? d’you think you could squeeze in one more before we head up?”

zoro smiles at you, and you can't help but smile back.

you have so many treasured memories with zoro in this library; ones of just the two of you (him napping while you studied), ones with nami and robin (and sanji until nami kicked the boys out for their incessant bickering), and ones where the night listens in as you recite the history of the stars.

whether you were telling the story of another righteous deity enacting justice, or the tale of mere mortals who insulted the gods, zoro would listen with his eyes closed, lying across the bench as he is now, and you’d sit in front of him as you are now.

everyone’s waiting for you upstairs and you hate to disappoint, but some things are more important — like telling a silly star story to a silly swordsman.

“of course i can.”

12:00 am

raucous laughter and cheering that’s loud enough to deafen anybody; empty plates, once piled high with food, now scattered around the room; bottles on bottles of sake and rum and whiskey and every liqueur that one would hope to find on a pirate ship.

these are zoro’s requirements for a good time, and suffice to say that your farewell party has them all in spades.

zoro watches his friends’ tomfoolery from his spot at the table (currently, luffy’s trying to get franky to see how far he can slingshot him) when you plop yourself into the seat beside him.

“this,” you say as your arm knocks against his, “is the best party i’ve ever been to.”

zoro takes a swig from his glass, “you haven’t partied until you’ve partied with pirates.”

“seriously! you guys are insane!”

as if to prove your point, franky chooses that exact moment to show off a juggling sequence involving a barrel of whiskey, a giant potted plant, and a squealing chopper.

you gasp at the spectacle but quickly dissolve into laughter when nami saves chopper, and it’s with both awe and pure excitement that you turn to zoro. laughter is etched into your lips, your cheeks are flushed, and zoro can’t help but marvel at how you’re even cuter when you’re having fun.

“what, you’ve never seen a cyborg man toss a speaking reindeer in the air before?”

you nudge him with your elbow, “well, excuse me for leading such a mundane life where animals don’t speak and men don’t tinker with their bodies.”

“ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.”

you look at zoro quizically.

he takes a sip of his beer, “most men do tinker with their bodies.”

it takes you a moment to catch his innuendo and zoro roars with laughter when the realization hits you. embarrassment tinges your pretty face and you shove him with a loud “ew, zoro!” but he can’t stop cackling.

“you’re disgusting!”

you make to swat zoro across the chest but he quickly catches your hand. he leans in to waggle his eyebrows at you, “but i’m not wrong, am i?”

you groan loudly, which only makes him laugh again.

perhaps it’s the alcohol that let his inhibitions go, or maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t have much longer with you, but when you hastily change the subject and there’s no longer a reason for him to still be holding your hand, he doesn’t let go.

when nami joins you two, his fingers slips between yours and to his surprise, yours do the same. sanji joins your threesome, then franky and robin, and in no time at all, it’s no longer just the two of you at the table.

but zoro doesn’t care.

drunk, carefree, and more content than he’s ever been, zoro closes his eyes and smiles. he lives in the moment, and in this moment, he’s happy — happy with a full stomach and a full glass, happy to be surrounded by his favourite people, and happy that, under the table, you’re still holding his hand.

3:00 am

“and what’s that one?”

hands swinging between you, you and zoro dodge the tide as you roam further and further from the thousand sunny. the sand is cool under your feet and the tide kisses your toes with each step. your other arm is stretched above you, pointing at a constellation in the distance.

“what is this - a pop quiz?”

you smile, “i want to make sure you don’t forget about my ‘silly star stories.’”

zoro groans, “has anyone told you that holding grudges isn’t healthy? keeping going and you’ll turn into a bitter old thing some day.”

you stick out your tongue, “you’re just afraid you’ll get it wrong.”

“wrong?” zoro scoffs. “i’ve gotten the past six right.”

walking along the beach, you and zoro fall in step with each other and your footsteps match the ebbing waves in perfect rhythm. you smile in his direction and his chest is flooded with a warmth that has nothing to do with the copious amounts of alcohol he’s consumed.

“alright, let’s see what we got here.”

zoro follows your gaze at the cluster of stars you’ve chosen, and he grins when he sees the constellation. “really? at least try to make this hard for me, please.”

his cocky attitude leaves you speechless, making zoro laugh.

“you’re so annoying!” you shove him with your free hand and the force of his stumble pulls you along, and you shriek as he drags you into the ocean with him. he doesn’t let go of you, not even for a second — not when water splashes your legs, not when zoro’s pants get soaked as he spins you around.

your laughter is warmth in its purest form, the kind that you can feel all the way down to your cold toes. when he sets you back down, you give his hand a little squeeze, to which zoro answers back with a tender smile.

now with wet feet and a distance between you that’s even smaller than it already was, zoro continues to walk alongside you.

“moving on from your pathetic distraction attempt,” — you let out a dramatic gasp — “i’ll tell you exactly who we were looking at.”

pointing at the starry zodiac sign, zoro speaks with complete confidence.

“virgo the maiden, otherwise known as persephone, wife and muse of the best god of them all, hades—”

“fanboy much?” you tease but zoro pretends not to hear you (the little tug of his lips tells you that he does).

“—who snuck her a pomegranate seed because he couldn’t bear for her to leave him.”

zoro puffs his chest with pride, relishing in this one niche study of which he is now an expert. it’s incredibly endearing how pleased he is with his answer and you almost feel bad for correcting him.

almost.

“good answer,” you grin. “but you left out the little detail about how she was kept in hell against her will.”

zoro gasps, “are you accusing my idol of being a kidnapper?”

“your idol!” your cheeks already hurt so much from smiling but another giggle slips out. “first of all, these aren’t my accusations. historians have told their love story this way for years—”

“slander is what this is.”

“—and secondly, why would you want to look up to hades? he’s literally the antagonist in every story.”

“he’s the king of hell! that’s so bad ass.” zoro winks at you, “don’t be surprised if you hear them calling me ‘zoro, king of hell’ some day.”

“what’s wrong, demon of east blue doesn’t go hard enough for you?”

embarrassment rushes to zoro’s face and he’s never been more grateful for the night. “who told you that? was it usopp or nami? i bet it was nami.”

“i might hold a grudge but i don’t snitch,” you flash a mischievous smile. “anyway, let’s get back to how you want to be just like devil who tricked a poor girl in returning to the underworld.”

“come on, can you blame a man for doing whatever it takes to stop his beloved from leaving him?”

it sounds like an innocent question — harmless banter, really — but something in the way he says it makes you stop dead in your tracks. a silence falls and in its wake, all you can do is stare at the man you’ve spent the last several months with, the same man that you have to say goodbye to tomorrow.

moonlight falls unto the both of you and bathes zoro in soft light. it illuminates his eyes and when you meet his gaze, you see a sense of longing there that you feel in your chest. a longing for what, you don’t know — or rather, you don’t want to know.

at least, not yet.

so you hold his hand a little tighter, and underneath the watchful eye of the gods and constellations, muster a smile,

“i guess not.”

6:00 am

if this was any other morning, zoro would be awake and working out already. he'd be done his fourth set of bicep curls or, at the very least, working on his form. he could even be in the middle of deadlifts (because he knows not to skip leg day), but he definitely wouldn't still be in bed the way that he is right now.

the thing is though, if this was any other morning, he wouldn't have you sleeping next to him, curled into him like you were made to be a perfect fit.

he's never been more glad to still be in bed.

your breath matches the rise and fall of zoro's chest, perfectly in rhythm with the waves outside his window and the beat of his heart, like the universe meant for all these things to be in harmony at this one singular moment in time.

your lashes flutter in response when he shifts his weight.

he takes a peek at you, “psst, are you awake?”

eyes still closed, you manage a noncommittal grunt but your body says otherwise.

zoro can’t help but smile as he watches you start to wake up. your toes wiggle beneath the covers and you rub your eyes before looking up at him with an adorably sleepy look that he would love to wake up to every day.

if only he could.

you focus your gaze on zoro like he’s an anchor in a sea of slumber. the way that you look at him, as if he’s the only thing that you see, fills his chest with a golden warmth akin to the breaking dawn.

you offer him a soft smile, and zoro wonders if the sun knows that you glow brighter than it ever could.

“why are you up at this ungodly hour?”

he chuckles, low and tender, “’m used to it. i’m usually up by now.”

“freak,” you mutter. zoro laughs, and you can’t think of anything else that sounds more beautiful at six in the morning.

you’re not usually up this early but what you notice is that, at dawn, time has a habit of moving slowly. it’s as if the morning casts magic upon those who rise with the daylight — and you’re so thankful for that.

because if time moved any faster than this, you’d have to say goodbye that much sooner.

“are you going to miss us?” zoro puts his arms around you.

you murmur into his chest, “of course, i will.”

“who do you think you’ll miss the most?”

you give pause and zoro’s almost certain you can hear his heart beating a little louder — he can definitely hear it. he doesn’t typically get nervous like this but, then again, nothing about the way you make him feel is typical.

you seem to have come to a conclusion because you look up at zoro and he holds his breath.

“sanji.”

he blinks.

“wait, are you serious?”

you’ve never seen zoro looks so wonderfully scandalized before, and you burst into a fit of giggles. as soon as you start, he knows he’s been had. he scowls but only for a moment; for who could be upset in the presence of such twinkling laughter?

“silly man,” you snuggle closer, "of course i’m not serious.”

“okay, good.” you can hear the smile in his voice. “i don’t know if my ego could handle losing to him.”

zoro holds you close, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. his movements are slow, steady, comforting — ‘round and ‘round, in the same spot, like he’s drawing an invisible mark that is only known to the two of you.

"but, you know,” you hum, careful not to disrupt the peace. “you wouldn’t.”

“wouldn’t what?”

“lose.” and after a beat, you quietly add, “you wouldn’t lose to anyone.”

and just like that, zoro’s on cloud nine, airborne and weightless. he’s always known that he has a place in your heart, but this is the first time that you’ve ever hinted about where that place may be. if he allowed himself to be hopeful, it almost sounds like a confession.

but almost isn’t good enough for him. zoro wants more — wants to find out exactly where he belongs in your life, wants to know if he can make himself at home there.

it’s a shame that he’s out of time.

you interrupt his thoughts with a whisper, barely audible above the sound of the ocean and his aching heart,

“will you miss me?”

more than anything.

9:00 am

surely, zoro’s dream to be hades has been granted. otherwise, why would it feel like he’s in hell, standing on the deck, all alone and watching your dinghy sail away from the thousand sunny?

zoro’s had his fair shares of farewells while aboard the ship, and to be honest, yours wasn’t any more emotional than anyone else’s. you left with a smile as beautiful as the morning sun and with far less tears than he expected (which he’s thankful for because he would hate to see you cry). as far as bittersweet goodbyes go, yours was definitely more sweet than bitter.

and yet, here zoro stands, with a bad taste in his mouth that he can’t explain. he can still see you from where he stands, and watching your little boat in the distance is the only thing that seems to settle his uneasy heart.

should he have bid adieu privately? maybe he should’ve left you with a memento of some kind? should he have done more than offer you a quick hug? was it his imagination, or did you hold onto him just a beat longer than you needed to?

zoro’s so occupied by these messy thoughts that he doesn’t even hear sanji approach him.

“well?”

startled, zoro can only stare at the blond cook. ignoring the dumb look on his face, sanji continues.

“what’d she say when you told her?” sanji nods in the direction of your boat.

“told her what?”

“that you love her,” sanji takes a drag of his cigarette, looking at zoro directly now.

he speaks so frankly, so matter-of-fact and candidly, that it takes zoro a second to really register what it is that he’s saying.

he loves you.

and as soon as he thinks it, the truth comes barreling through all the doubts clouding his head. clarity floods his chest as he comes face-to-face with what his yearning, pining heart has been trying to tell him this whole time.

he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. he loves you. he loves you-

fuck.

he loves you.

and he never told you.

epilogue — 9:30 am

sails closed, your boat floats with the current and the salty breeze reminds you that your adventure with the strawhats has come to a close. compared to the never-ending bustle of the crew, it’s almost too quiet being at sea alone. the silence lends itself to your overactive mind, working full time to unravel the tightness you feel in your chest.

you’re lost in thoughts of what could’ve, should’ve, and would’ve been — so much so that you don’t even hear the commotion behind you. it’s not until you hear zoro call your name that you hear the frantic swimming and you whirl around.

“zoro! what-”

“can you help me first?” he splutters.

you pull yourself together long enough to run to the side of your dinghy, pulling a sopping wet pirate on board. zoro leans back, trying to catch his breath as you rummage through your things.

“are you crazy? do you know how far we are from the sunny?” you throw a towel over him before reaching for another. you start drying off his hair, frantically fussing over him.

“you think that just because chopper gives you the clearance that you can push yourself over the limit-”

“y/n.”

“this is why you’re always on house arrest! you’re actually insane, you know that?”

“y/n.”

“i know you work out, but for goodness’ sake, zoro, you’re only human-”

“y/n.” zoro holds your wrists, forcing you to stop with a start.

in all your worrying, you didn’t realize that you’d been gravitating closer to zoro until you’re staring into his dark, obsidian eyes. there’s clarity in the way that he looks at you. his eyes are shining with a fierceness that you’ve only seen in his worst fights, and you brace yourself for whatever comes next.

because you know that this will change everything.

“hades and persephone.”

“huh?“ you blink at him. “did you hit your head-”

“ask me if i think hades loved persephone.”

you stare into zoro’s eyes, desperation reflecting back at you. there’s a hidden question there and you understand immediately.

quietly, you ask, "do you think hades loved persephone?”

“i do,” he whispers. “i think he loved her and he would've been stupid to let her go.”

your breath catches. zoro places a hand over yours, surprisingly warm as his fingers find their home between your own.

the heavens watch on as the two of you finally open your hearts and give way to the stuff that myths and legends yearn for — a connection that can only be described as fated, destined, purely and resplendently magical.

the gods smile at the two lovers who find themselves falling into each other, laughing as you confess, over and over again,

i love you.

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro fluff #zoro fluff #one piece x reader #₊ ˚ ʚ writing ! ɞ #i know i just wrote a zoro fic BUT #this fic has been stuck in my drafts for too mf long #i didn't even proofread the epilogue bc fuck it #i just need her to go out into the world ok #i promise i will write non-zoro stuff soon #(maybe)#(jk i will)

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elliespassagerprincess · 1 year ago

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requesting a fic of Ellie n reader running away and their lives kinda suck but they’re still glad cuz they have eachother and they’re away from their old environment and that’s all that rlly matters :) based on things to do by alex g!

things to do - (ellie williams x reader)

Hey anon! this is such a sweet idea! I loved writing this so much. Ily for this. I hope you enjoy it:)

This story is based off the song Things to do by Alex G. If you can please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open, feel free to leave one!

Warnings: toxic households (but there's a happy ending)

Summary: In which they got their happily ever after

Authors note: what?? me writing happy fics??? it's so rare but i love them. Also my surgery is in 2 days, so i'll be post all my drafts and requests over the next two days, so while i recover, so you guys have things to read:)

Thinkin' of things to do

Yeah, only the cheapest things left there for you

And the only thing I learned from you is that there's nothing left

To look forward to

I was asleep for days, and now you're the only thing

Keepin' me awake

The calculator will make the same mistakes

Yeah, I see it in its face

Ellie nervously sat under the tree waiting for you. She anxiously looked down at the plastic bag, silently praying that you'd like the snacks she bought.

"I'm sorry I'm late" you said breathing heavily as you ran towards her.

"Your mom was yelling at you again?"

"Yeah" you said as you sat next to her.

"Sometimes I just want to sleep, y'know? Like sleep without her waking me up and yelling" you admitted.

Ellie nodded in understanding because she too was experiencing the same thing.

Nobody understood the two of you like you understood each other.

You met Ellie when you were 14.

You remember she was sitting alone, and she was crying because she didn't have any lunch. You decided to talk to her.

"My mom also forgets to give me lunch money sometimes, but it's ok! I know where we can get something to eat" you said with a soft smile.

And the rest was history.

You and Ellie became inseparable because you both understood each other. You could comfort each other because you knew what the other was going through.

Whenever things were rough at home for you, you always went to Ellie. Or when Ellie need something to eat you'd always take something extra for her.

All you and Ellie were used to, was yelling, and constant fighting. But when you were each other there was none of that.

There was peace and unconditional love.

"Aw Ellie you should have" you said as she opened the bag to show you what she had got for you.

"Anything for you" Ellie muttered.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence. And Ellie's mind wondered.

You were such a nice person. You didn't deserve the toxic environment you were in.

Both of you didn't.

Silent moments like these with you always made Ellie happy.

She wished she had more time with you.

She wanted to take you away from all pain. From all the yelling, and sleepless nights, she wanted to keep you happy.

There was nothing left here for her. The only thing that kept her going was you.

The light in her darkness.

You felt Ellies eyes burning into the side of your head. You swallowed the gummy worms you had in your mouth as you turned to her, raising an eyebrow you asked "what?"

Ellie went quiet for a while, until she said something you thought you'd never hear her say.

"Let's run away together"

Hold on tight to this time, this place

'Cause everything you know will be erased

You were born inside your head

And that is where you'll be when you are dead

You are just a boy you are no man and

Nobody you know will understand

You are just a boy you are no man and

Nobody you know will understand

"Ellie I can't just leave, my mom will look for me-"

"fuck your fucking mom! She doesn't care, can't you see? If we leave we'll be free, we can live in peace. Please let's go" Ellie sighed in defeat.

If you chose Ellie you would betray your family, if you chose your family you would lose the only person who kept you sane.

"Ellie I cant" you said quietly.

You felt the tears in your eyes.

Was this really good bye?

Ellie got up and she looked at you with sad eyes "I cant force you, but I hope you're happy here"

She started walking away but she suddenly stopped, she looked back at you without any expression.

"I'm leaving tomorrow night, if you change your mind i'll be at the train station"

She left. She left you alone.

You went back home crying.

You'd just lost the only person, who you truly loved.

You were so fucking stupid.

You walked into your house and you immediately heard your mother's nagging voice yelling: "fucking finally, come here! You need to fix the sink"

you ignored her and you dashed to your room, as fast as you possibly could.

You locked the door, and you heard your mother pound against the door.

She was yelling insults at you, as if you didn't have feelings.

She truly deserves the mother of the year award.

After a while, she left and you were finally alone with your thoughts.

Did you make the right decision?

Ellie sat anxiously at the station, she hoped you'd change your mind. That's you'd show up. For your freedom, and safety.

She'd hoped you'd come for her.

She bit her nails waiting for the train to come in, hoping Joel didn't notice she was gone. She heard the sound of the train pull, and with a sigh she got up holding the strap on her backpack in a tight grip.

You weren't going to come. This was it.

"Ellie!"

Her head snapped in the direction of your voice.

There you stood in all your glory holding a bag. There was a grin on your face.

With your bag in hand you ran to Ellie and she ran to you. The two of you met halfway, and Ellie held you in a tight grip.

If she held you any tighter, surely you would suffocate.

"I thought you weren't going to come" Ellie breathed as she still held you.

You pulled away first, and you leaned forward, kissing her.

Ellie didn't kiss you back at first and you almost wanted to pull away and die, but you soon felt her lips move. You felt her smile during the kiss.

As you pulled away you looked at her with a shy smile "I love you Ellie, of course I came"

A grin spread onto the girls face and before she could say anything the locomotive yelled "departure in 2 minutes"

Ellie grabbed your hand, and she rushed onto the train with you.

The two of you sat next to each other, your hands still interlocked.

"I love you too" Ellie finally breathed.

The train started move, and the nerves you and Ellie felt were finally falling away. You would finally be free.

"To our new life together" Ellie said before she brought you in for another kiss.

Welcoming you back home

The only one that you have ever known

Welcoming you back home

The only one that you will ever know

as Ellie opened the front door the smell of a freshly baked pie filled the air.

This was home.

She walked through the threshold of your shared apartment and she practically ran to the kitchen in search of you.

As Ellie entered she saw you standing with your back facing her. You were humming a familiar tune.

She walked towards you, you felt her arms wrap around you as she started singing with you.

This was home.

The two of you were each others safe spaces. Each others homes.

And Ellie hoped for the rest of her life that she would come home to you.

Home doesn't always have to be a place, it's a person too. And you were that person.

Forever and always.

The best decision Ellie made was running away with you, and she had zero regrets.

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staarboyyy · 1 year ago

Note

YAYYY YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

I was wondering if you could maybe write something about y/n being an apprentice and Hoffman flirts with them even knowing they are in a relationship with Amanda 😧 It goes on for a while and Amanda gets tired of it, gets really jealous and yells at Hoffman then takes y/n back to her room and… you know 🫣 NSFW, maybe slight choking if you don’t mind writing it (if not that is totally okay!) just some dirty talk here and there also for example: whenever Amanda catches Hoffman flirting with reader she whispers things into readers ear :) Thank you so much in advance!

territory

amanda young x gender neutral reader | specified anatomy

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; apprentice!reader, jealousy, amanda being a guard dog, anatomical terms for vagina, degradation, dubcon if u squint, biting, sadistmanda

summary ; amanda catches you and mark going over your lastet work.

word count ; 3.2k

a/n; sorry for the delay, i really loved this prompt and writing for the apprentice reader, they are so silly! please enjoy :D

Amanda had a bad feeling about Mark from the start. How could she not? She saw that wicked look in his eyes, that knowing spark every time he glanced at you while you sketched traps aimlessly. He knew that you weren't supposed to be anything more than teammates, but that didn't stop him from trying to turn it into something more - Something like what you and Amanda had. Mark had always been cold, bitter. He spoke the truth with no hesitation, taking in breaths with the intent to speak words meant to silence others in the room. He was a force to be reckoned with to most; And yet as he watched you from across the warehouse, his gaze was disturbingly ... Friendly. Seeing this did not just make Amanda angry, her gaze curiously stuttering past the dooframe just as Mark crossed the room toward you. He squared his shoulders, shoes thudding quietly against the cement floor as his eyes reached the sketchbook in front of you.

You had been drafting for some days - It felt strange, almost like having homework due. John was a tough judge, especially when the traps were made for a truly awful person; In truth you didn't want to dwell on the details of the man this trap was for. He had taken things from women that could never be given back to them, and that was enough to drive your sadistic spark. The spark that made John give a slight tilted grin, not speaking as he steadily nodded, studying your sketches. At first his silence worried you, but when your drafts ended up pinned to the wall near his desk, you took to planning more confidently. It seemed John wasn't the only one to take notice to your determination, your pencil coming to a sharp pause as Mark leaned the weight of his hip into the creaking metal table. His eyes were still lingering on the page, jaw shifting with a slightly tilted head, nearly perplexed at the scratched notes and crumpled discarded brainstorm pages. Not your fault your desk was cluttered. When the inspiration hits you, y'know?

"What is this?"

Mark asked quietly as he moved to grasp and hold up one of the crumpled sketches. It had been discarded because you accidentally drew it comically uneven and decided it was too time consuming to try and fix without a ruler on hand. Mark gave you a quizzical glance nonetheless, looking between you, the warped drawing, and the others on the sketchbook before you. You had originally planned to draw a second picture, a much less fucked up version with the same pose, but you got hung up on the details. A small laugh escapes your throat, lighting up the cold warehouse for a brief moment. Why did he take notice of the wrong sketch? And why did he have to remind you of it's existence? The small pursed smile pushed at the corners of your lips as gave a shake of your head.

"Bad proportions."

"I'll fuckin' say,"

Mark's response suprised you slightly, the way his tone so easily shifted from a cold demanding one to an almost playful chuckle. He gave a slight nod as he re crumpled the distorted sketch, eyes casting over his shoulder to locate the trash can and - Oh. There she was. Amanda stood slightly obscured by a stacked frame of chains, the light of the warehouse casting long shadows across her face. She could feel the distinct searing hot shaking in her fingertips; She had never seen Mark laugh, let alone smile. It left a harshly bitter taste in her mouth, shifting her shoulder to shrug past the hanging chains. Her body moved slow, steps quiet as she approached you and Mark with the stealth of a snake in high grass. Her dark eyes were still locked on Mark's, the way his free hand hovered over your shoulder, how he shifted his body to face yours, the smell of his subtle cologne brushing over your senses. Jealousy surged through Amanda's veins in chilling waves, goosebumps pricking the back of her neck, fingers clenching into fists, knuckles a bright white. No one could have you besides her, this was true. But Hoffman surely had to know exactly what he was doing.

Mark's eyes narrowed when they met Amanda's. He knew that look - An animal primed to kill, a woman who would cage herself over you in a storm of shattered glass without a second thought. He swore a flashing glint of red soared over Amanda's gaze, her attention faltering as it caught the sight of Mark's hand. In one moment, his palm had laid for perhaps half a second on your shoulder, and the next, a shadow cast over your sketchbook, a figure standing directly behind you.

You had grown used to Amanda's silence when walking around the warehouse, yet your body jolted with a sudden twist of fear, moving to turn towards the figure just as Mark pulled his hand away. Your hitching breaths relaxed as you caught sight of Amanda, your expression easing into a small smile. But when she did not return it, it faded from your lips. You immediately recounted the past few minutes - Surely there had been no reason to be angry with you. You've been working, and Mark's been... Ah. The dots connected then as you peered over toward the man beside you, then Amanda once again. The woman wet her lips slowly, tongue rolling over her bottom lip before speaking in a terrifyingly calm voice.

"Having fun?"

Amanda's gaze locked with Mark's, her thoughts flashing with an ugly picture of him with you. Mark shifted slightly, a frown tugging at the edge of his lips. He knew that look in Amanda's eyes. That possessiveness that bordered on insanity. She couldn't place if Mark even knew about her history with you - The countless times she'd press kisses to your cheek in passing, the brush of your thighs when you passed each other, your quiet desperate whispers in her ear promising to keep quiet if it meant she'd touch you. You belonged to her entirely, she was assured of that every waking moment of the day. Every time your bodies tangled together in bed, swimming amongst the sheets to get comfortable, taking in eachothers warmth and staying close, whispering sweet nothings. You were Amanda's everything. She'd flay anyone, any man that tried to ruin that.

"Having a blast." Mark speaks sarcastically, leaning once again against the rusting table, palms splayed over it behind him. "Our friend here was showing me some of their latest work, which I have to say seems promising."

Mark continues, not even looking at Amanda, instead focusing on your drawings. Amanda, for her part, remained motionless for a moment, her expression nearly unreadable, her breathing sharp and steady. Your face flushed, cheeks warming at the sight. In another world, you'd be terrified of that look. Primed to kill, stalking prey with the intent to ravaging it. Her fists curled tight at her side, mouth parted ever so slightly.

"Latest work?"

Amanda echoed, not missing a beat. She still had her eyes locked on Mark. There were no words there anymore, just unspoken emotions that Mark caught wind of almost immediately. He rolled his shoulders, feeling them tense up slightly. He should have known better than to cross claimed territory. That became only more apparent as Amanda's slow pace began once again, coming closer to you both until her hands could rest on both of your shoulders. Her hands were just abit smaller than Mark's, fingers slim and familiar, silver banded rings wrapping over them. They were familiar, warm as her thumbs swept over the backs of your shoulders. It comforted her having you in arms reach, especially with Mark so close by. Her grasp was ever so slightly too tight, fingers flexing over your shoulders as her head cocked, eyes still on Mark. She lifted her eyesbrows expectantly, chin jutting forward slightly, motioning the man to speak with an impatient expression.

"Tch,"

Amanda's possessiveness was so intense, you started to question if that was really a good thing - But the way her hands were now holding you, stroking your shoulder in a comforting caress? That was definitely worth the way Mark began to shift away from you both. There was no helping the way you bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your pulse was picking up pace by the second under Amanda's cold grasp. Her large scarred hands made you feel safe. Each arching scratch or healing nick on her finger tips had a story, one she would tell you with a lopsided grin, nearly bragging. She liked impressing you. Though, she'd never admit it to you without a myriad of stutters and flushed cheeks. Her presence made you feel warm, a space of safe welcoming heat in the middle of this seemingly endless freezing warehouse. You were so comfortable with her hands on your shoulders that you stopped wondering what Mark was feeling. Your gaze cast toward the sketches splayed over your desk, mind dwindling off into all different directions, all leading back to her. Mark was always cold. You and Amanda had something different - The way her breath caught in her throat as she realized you were starting to relax again, the way the fingers on your shoulder gripped tighter just for a moment before she pulled back, as if to assure you she'd be back in no time - you didn't even glance away as Mark's footsteps echoed away down a dingey hallway, presumably to leave for the night.

The feeling of your back hitting the lush mattress of Amanda's bed took the breath away, but how her hands kept your wrists pinned to the sheets made you gasp sharply. The palms pressed softly against your wrists, sending shivers rocketing up your spine, setting your every nerve on edge. Her dark hair curtained over you as her nails gently raked over your body - She cherished every inch of skin, biting her lower lip as her eyes watched you wryly, pinned underneath her. You didnt dare push past this to see through the pulsing haze that danced across your vision from the unexpected rough touch of the other. You tried to swallow your panic down, but nothing could be done to keep the soft whimper from escaping your lips; It pulled a low purr from the woman, tutting quietly before bringing an index finger to her lips, a motion to stay quiet. Amanda leaned down then, her whispered words catching the shell of your ear as she leaned more of her weight into you.

"Shh... You know exactly what you were doing. Don't try to fight me now."

Your eyes darted back and forth, body shivering with equal parts need and fear as she chuckled darkly. The sound was pillowed with a dark intent, lips moving to trace over the warm skin of your neck, lightly glazed with sweat. There was a moment where it felt like you were going to pass out from the thrill of being Amanda's plaything, but then her lips pressed gently against your throat, tethering your mind to focus on her. The way her tongue slid over the sensitive space of skin, teeth gently sinking down, reeling a quiet squeal from your chest. It only made her bite harder, though perhaps you knew that; Perhaps she was right. You wanted to play cat and mouse? So be it.

You squirmed at the slowly building pinch on your throat, back arching as arms fighting ever so slightly against Amanda's weight. After a long moment, the pain subsided, her tongue sweeping over the harsh bite before sitting up slightly. Her eyes were locked on yours, though she was clearly looking through you, to some private joke you were not exactly privy to. Her eyes slid down your body slowly, her left hand releasing one of your wrists to dive underneath your shirt. It seemed a dangerous gamble, taking the chance that she'd see your skin bare, chest rising and falling with frantic gasps of desire, like this. But then, Amanda had been a risk taker - And in this moment, there was nothing more you wanted, those poisonous moments where every sensation she caused seemed to leave a permanent mark on your body and mind. She molded you, carved you like granite as she palmed your chest greedily, one of her legs shifting to spread your own. Her knee pressed lightly against your clothed heat, applying slight varying pressure with a watchful eye; She always loved to see exactly what made you tick. What made your back arch and breath hitch with a carnal spark. She craved to have that practiced to a muscle memory, to turn you mindless in the palm of her hand whenever she chose fit.

"God you're sick huh?

You tried to say something in defense, maybe even a witty quip to get her to smile again. You loved when she smiled in moments like this; Between the passion, the rough bites and harsh words - It was nothing less than love. She knew how much you adored her like this. Dominant, protective, trigger happy with anybody who dared get too close to you. But you were breathless, body shuddering with the pleasure her touch brought. You were at your most vulnerable underneath the woman; Even with no way out, you could think of nothing better than being right where you were. Not much else mattered except for the feeling of both her hands sweeping back down your chest and stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. It wasn't until her finger tips hooked around your belt loops that your dazed eyes focused. Her fingers were slim, scarred, veins lacing over the back of her large hand and muscular forearm. She pulled away your pants with a bite of her lip, kicking them away with distinct impatience; She wanted to taste you.

The cold air chilled your lower half as she worked at your jeans, a soft chuckle following as her finger tips glided over your hips, dipping into the waistband of your underwear. She took more deliberate care with these, her fingers finding the exact mark in the fabric to pull them down, leaving you fully exposed. She wasted no time in exploring the full breadth of your bare front, leaning slightly downward to press soft kisses along the hard pulse of your left thigh. It was maddening, feeling the woman in her element as she lavished attention on your vulnerable skin, biting like a starving animal; Arousal spun your mind, her hot breath and desperate tongue so close to your needy cunt.

You couldn't think through the fog in your mind - Only feel. Only see. Her fingers danced across your skin in search of its most sensitive areas, leaving strewns of light bruises on the soft of your thighs. Hands swept over your thighs with surprising gentleness, positioning your legs to rest on her wide shoulders. She didn't let them linger there, letting go to slip those same palms over your ass, pulling you closer to her with yet another dark snicker. The air in your chest seemed to catch fire when she spoke, her whispered breath causing your hips to sutter forward, whimpering needily.

"I haven't even touched you yet... You think Mark could make you this fucking pathetic?"

It was a sharp question, despite being spoken in one of the softest tones you've ever heard from the woman - She gave you no time to answer, let alone recover before letting her tongue dip firmly into the space she whispered into.

“You're mine,” She murmured, letting her senses all fall away from her head, her spiraling thoughts. She was quick to pull your legs apart from one another, letting his tongue ease over your cunt, starting down firmly at the base, one of her thumbs moving to spread you open gently, to let all her have complete access to you. You gasped sharply, instinctively trying to close your thighs at the sudden electric euphoria lashing at your senses. Yet when her teeth grazed over your clit, your breath hitched tightly in your chest, gazing down at her working at your cunt with the desperation of a starved animal. A groan vibrated into your heat, and you let your head fall back, propping yourself up with her elbows as beads of sweat rolled over your temples. Your eyebrows knitted together, one of your hands reaching to the back of Amandas head, hoping for everything that she wouldn’t stop no matter what you said.

“Fuck - 'Manda!”

You strained the words, your hips shaking slightly as Amanda pulled your clit firmly between her lips, the fingers once used to hold you down had been moved to ease into your cunt, her index and middle fingers sliding in with little resistance. You felt so full just from the pair of fingers, and when she curved them upwards, you could feel your thighs trembling, biting your bottom lip. The quickening tips of her fingers reached that perfect spot, the one that you could barely reach by yourself. You tossed your head over the sheets, your fits gripping the blankets beside you so tightly you could feel your fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. Amandas tongue worked wonders over the small area, her fingers keeping the repetitive motion inside of you; You felt a small fire start to rise in your lower stomach, spiking up into your veins, clouding your vision with stinging tears - Your body screamed for release, your moans aimless, begging Amanda not to stop.

Your squeals always seemed to motivate her more than anything else. Amanda used her free hand to pull one of your legs up onto her strong shoulder, leaning herself deeper into you - So willing to make you come undone just from her fingers and tongue alone. A smile reached over her lips as she pulled her mouth from you, her fingers not wavering.

“That's it...” She murmured, her dark eyes piercing deep into yours, expression contorting, able to see you finally cum around her thick fingers. Your eyes watered with the immeasurable amount of pleasure that reigned over your senses, head spinning, saliva falling from your bottom lip. Amanda shuddered out a sigh at the sight of your twitching heat, her thumb rubbing over your senstive clit harshly now, post orgasm. This caused you to try and pull away once more, head shaking instinctually. The sensitivity was too much for you, a strangled sounding out cry made Amanda chuckle casually, her teeth now nipping at the insides of your thighs as you rode out your forcefully coaxed orgasm.

When Amanda removed her fingers, she eased her tongue over them, humming with approval, eyes not leaving your dazed expression. She let your trembling leg slide off her shoulder as the air filled with your unsteady gasps, hardly able to put words together as the woman before you moved to sit on the bed beside you - You tried to move, lifting your shakey hand, finger tips numb from your shallow breaths, yet Amanda shook her head and returned your hand back in place. You needed rest, even as she pulled you into her arms and wrapped her thick quilt over your shoulders, keeping you in her lap while she gingerly offered you water and pecking your cheeks and head with kisses. Amanda would spoil you until the end, even if it meant reminding you exactly who you belonged to every once in a while.

#amanda young x you #amanda young x reader #amanda young x oc #amanda young x female reader #saw amanda #amanda young #saw #saw franchise #saw x reader #mark hoffman #hoffman #slasher #slasher x reader #bowies fics #amanda saw #amanda young x gn reader #gender nuetral reader

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the-amazing-animated-circus · 9 months ago

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Thought I'd share my first drafts of all the characters!

Don't know what I was thinking with the braces on Caine, lol. I guess i just wanted a way to connect his upper and lower jaw.

Zooble was BY FAR the most difficult to design, since they're already so insanely cartoony. I actually tried making them a robot at one point!

I settled with a devil because a lot of old cartoons would have stuff like devils as their antagonist, and I didn't think that a robot would fit the era of animation I was going for.

An alternate colour scheme for Zooble. It was way too generic in my opinion.

Looks like they were also meant to have whiskers at some point.

The first ever sketches I did for this au!

The pose in the middle was inspired by a Christma comic I was going to make as an introduction to the au. Create some intrigue, y'know?

I've definitely had the most fun drawing caine's expressions!

More caine!

I focused a lot less on keeping entirely to proportions and more on the line of action, akin to the rubberhose style of animation.

First sketches of Jax and Ragatha. I love drawing anthropomorphic charcters, so Jax was naturally my second choice to draw!

I then played around with all the possible hairstyles Ragatha could have. I didn't want the design to be too similar to other aus, while also conveying her kind demeanor. A lot of aus end up tying her hair back!

More Caine! again, the one in the middle is a pose I would have used for the Christmas comic! I was still figuring out how many restrictions the toons would have, so I'm glad I scrapped it. Wouldn't want to set anything in stone that early in development.

Some other poses for the early designs of the characters! Jax was definitely my favourite of these!

I never went for Kinger's upside down cross because I'm pretty certain that an animation studio in the 50s wouldn't allow a symbol of Satan on a character that wasn't pure evil.

That's it! I hope the next time we meet, I have some new work to show you!

#the amazing digital circus #toon au #toon pomni #toon jax #toon ragatha #toon gangle #toon caine #First Draft

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butchsophiewalten · 9 months ago

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Snippet of my (personal) recording of the Jan 7th, 2024 Twitter Space Q&A with Martin and Kyle, because it's really important to me.

(Context: an audience member asks a question about if any characters in The Walten Files have Autism, because they are an Autistic person with TWF as a special interest.)

(Transcribed under cut)

[Transcription:

Kyle: "Um, they said they accidentally left the stream in excitement. Um, I said my headcanon is that both Sophie and Jenny are au- [fumbles with his words]- Are Autistic. But Jenny is Autistic/ADHD."

Martin: [Unintelligible, talking over Kyle]

Kyle: "Can you say, Martin, who- who you would- 'Cause I know you said Charles would be ADHD, do you know who, if anybody would be Autistic?"

Martin: "Okay, so, um, this is really complicated, but, the episode 5 draft is finished. [Note: This space occurred before TWF4 was broken up into 3 parts. This would now refer to what is going to be Episode 7] I sent it to you, remember?"

Kyle: "Yes! Very good."

Martin: "And I sent it to Eva, and everyone else, and this episode has a bigger focus on Sophie, episode 5, and I think a lot of things, Eva- I talked a lot about it with Eva, and she mentioned how Sophie, was like, had many, many, many, many traits that imply that she is Autistic. And while I said, yes, the intention was to, like, sorta like, allude to it? It isn't, like, I wouldn't- I would never confirm it, because I feel like I would never be able to represent it properly, because I'm not-"

Kyle: [Wheeze laughing] "Sorry, so sorry, I looked at fucking Ash's page and immediately just fucking [Intensely, imitating Ash's enthusiasm] 'The episode five draft!?!? What the fuck!?!?!'"

Martin: "Oh my god. Oh my god. But yeah, I would never be able to like, fully represent it, because it's not an experience I've gone through. But, if anyone is curious, there's a lot of like, unintentional double meaning about Autism with Sophie's, like, what's going on in her head. And how- how like, she behaves, in a way, y'know? But I feel like, from what Eva told me, which- from her experience as an Autistic person, she told me was a really good like, representation, for like, the character. Even if it wasn't intentional, because she's never, like, represented as mentally unstable, or not fit to, like- not competent. She- she acts like a normal person, but you can still see, like, some of her struggles, like, her personal struggles, due to her behavior. So yeah, it's a really cool episode."

End Transcription]

#upload

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dee-the-red-witch · 1 month ago

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This originally posted here a few days ago for members, but I wanted to also release here as audio- for one, it has some beautiful quotes and poetry in there, and for another, it's more where I'm really at- disconnected, discombobulated, spun around and trying to figure out which way to go next and what of the million things I need to be moving forward on, but hopeful and feeling better despite all of that. Text of the original post to follow:

Transition Notes Part Five: Final Girl? Monster?

This got started a few months ago as two different posts in my drafts. I'm including these bits here because they're relevant to a chunk of what I'll be talking about. Shame patreon doesn't give me dates from when I start a post, just the date I last looked at the edits, which for both was a few months ago. I'm just gonna label them "Earlier" for the one post, and "quotes" for the other, since the second post was largely me shoving quotes together for a later analysis. Also a "Now" tag for the current additions. Is it a jumbled mess? Yes. But that's also very much where my brain is at this point, so it makes a kind of sense. Plus, it unintentionally flows, so I'm going with it.

Earlier: My hair touches shoulders constantly now. I've never had hair this long in my life, and despite the curl, it is constantly in contact with my shoulders or my upper back depending on how I sit, and it's amazing. I'm also in crisis and have been for a few months. Getting regularly paralyzed by executive dysfunction while being trans (and having some of the concurrent Life Events that happen when you're trans) seems to have that effect. And so help me, though parts of this are going to sound like me complaining about my life, I'm not just jotting stuff down to vent or get sympathy, but hopefully more so other folks can learn from it. Quotes: The monster is a liminal creature embodying the very boundaries humans have overreached. The identification of something as monstrous denotes its place outside and beyond social norms and values. Such extraordinary warnings or reminders proceed from divine power to humankind when they have transgressed, or are about to transgress, the limits of what humans are supposed or rather allowed to do. -Daniela Carpi, Monsters and Monstrosity

Now: I'm moved. I've been living in my own apartment for over a week now and settling in. It's... different. Better. Safer. I still end up breaking down in tears on a daily basis over feeling alone, or grieving what I left, or realizing and just starting to come to terms with some of the trauma I'd been living with and covering up, or just for making the choices I had to for my own survival. This is a better place. I feel safe here. I'm worried as hell about everything I sacrificed to get here and how I'm going to be able to keep it. Quotes:

"They made a monster of Medusa as well. Hated how loud her trauma was. Couldn’t believe she had the audacity not to take it lying down. They made a war-ground of her body so she made one of theirs." -Trista Mateer, Aphrodite Made me Do It

Now: I know I'm going to be called a monster for it by people at various points. I've already seen a few of the people my ex is still friends with come right up to it without actually saying it. People will choose the narrative they want, the people they stick or agree with, and just who to demonize in any given situation. I can't help any of that. All I could do was take actions that could easily get seen as being monstrous, while at the same time, being one of the only paths I could secure to staying alive. You're either the monster or the final girl, and sometimes the one looks like the other. But y'know, when I wrote this months and months ago on tumblr:

I didn't think I was writing it about myself at the time.

Earlier: I knew my odds when I came into this. Too many trans stories of heartbreak from friends as they cut people out of their lives, lost relationships and more. I knew how common it was. I wasn't expecting all of it myself, but it's where I'm at. Final Girl mode. The realization that you're very likely going to have to be walking out of the movie alone at the end right before the credits. Now: I knew the odds going in. It had been one of the facts that haunted me and kept me from coming out before. A conservatively placed 70% of marriages where one partner comes out as a trans woman after the fact end in divorce. Often very badly, with the woman in question finding herself homeless, alone, and dying on the streets without resources or any kind of network to fall back on. I came out thinking I was safe from that after my oldest kid had had a fairly smooth go of it. Turns out, I was wrong, very wrong, like a lot of people are. I ended up with three very real choices- wait and try to make it work, and see the all too stereotypical story play out. Wait until my surgeries were done with, and likely end up with massive complications and health problems because I'd still be having to push myself like mad to take care of and support more people than just me. Or get out and get out as soon as I possibly could. Obviously, I went for the last option. So, why write this? Because I know at least half of you are cis or unfamiliar with the transfem side of the experience. Because people need to know that this stuff happens, still, even in today's somewhat more accepting climate. Because I needed to exorcise all this before I felt like I could move on to newer things. And the biggest, the number one thing that I want anyone to take from this? Because I wouldn't undo any of it. If I could somehow snap my fingers, re-boy myself and make no-one the wiser, slip the denial blinders back over my own eyes and all... I wouldn't do it in the slightest. This is what I'll be moving forward from, even if I am currently hurt and just scrambling forward, I'm still moving and surviving. And I will make it out through all of this in the end.

#transition notes #audio post #text post #please just listen and share #or read

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assaily · 7 months ago

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I have so many documents that have just little scraps of writing in them. A little while ago i was looking for an old howling draft and found some more random scraps. I cannot tell if i wrote this for howling or not, but it's cute Diego and Five fluff. Five is also baby in this and so a bit out of character, but y'know that's why it's a scrap

“Come here.”

Five scowled at Diego, at the peace offering in his tone. “Fuck off,” he snapped. He wasn’t done being annoyed with his brother yet to be swayed by the gentle, off-putting tone Diego just addressed him with.

“Stop being an ass and come here,” Diego groused, something still gentle and apologetic on his face, even as his tone veered back into irritation. “I’m sorry, alright.” He didn’t sound very sorry, but Five suspected that was why he wanted him to come closer. Diego was bad at verbal apologies, and they’d all learned a much more effective way to get under his skin.

Five knew that he could keep snapping, declare he didn’t want them to touch him and that would be that. Surprisingly clear boundaries for a bunch of people who traditionally didn’t have many to begin with. They treated Five a little like he was feral, but he supposed the treatment was earned.

“Five,” Diego said again, even softer in response to Five’s obvious hesitation. “It’s alright, I’m sorry. Let’s just calm down for a second.” He beckoned him over with his hands, and Five finally sighed in resignation.

He actually hated how much he wanted this, and how well it worked. He really was an animal, his siblings working very hard to keep him tamed. He gave in, stepping closer but making Diego close the distance himself with arms open to envelope him.

He knew, cognitively, logically, reasonably that Diego wasn’t going to hurt him, but his body still curled into itself without his permission, arms over his chest like that would protect him from an attack that would never come. Diego knew that was just how Five responded, didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his arms around Five’s shoulders and pressed their bodies together like they’d never been apart for over forty years.

Something lurched in Five’s chest, like it always did when they embraced him, his eyes burning with emotions he couldn’t even really feel anymore, but that swirled inside of him all the same. Churned to life in his brother’s arms. Five forced himself to breath, to feel the body pressed against him, the arms around his shoulders.

It was hard to be mad when he was reminded how much he loved them and needed them. It was hard to be testy when they offered him such blatant love, no strings attached, no work required. A safe place to settle against a heart he had fought for so long to keep beating.

It really wasn’t fair, how easy it was for them once they learned they could just hug him into submission. They definitely took advantage of the weakness, ending arguments before they got out of hand with an offer of open arms. And Five, the deprived creature he was, struggled to say no simply for how deeply he wanted the contact. He didn’t know how to ask, so he took what they offered him, even if it meant conceding an argument. One day, Five promised himself, he wouldn’t be this weak to them.

But as Diego secured him a little tighter, rocking him back and forth to loosen the rust in his lungs, Five had doubts. Diego threaded a hand through his hair, the pads of his fingers pressing into the sensitive muscles at the base of his head, bolting bone-deep pleasure down his spine; Five knew he wouldn’t be getting used to this any time soon.

He didn’t remember slumping against Diego, or closing his eyes as his fingers kneaded into the back of his neck, knees getting weaker and weaker until suddenly Diego was scooping an arm under him and pulling him up.

“You gotta tell us when you aren’t sleeping, Five. We want to help you, but we can’t do that if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Once, Five would have groused that he didn’t need help, certainly not their help. He had survived so much on his own, he didn’t need to be doted on like this. But Diego was slow to take him to bed, one arm holding his weight, the other wrapped around his shoulders, and Five’s arms secured around Diego’s neck like a buoy in the ocean. Diego walked slow, each step like a gentle wave, lulling Five down into a place of quiet and rest.

He didn’t say he didn’t need the help, because they both knew that was a lie. The biggest lie Five had ever tried to tell them, or himself. So he tucked his face into his brother’s throat and listened to his heart beating and his body breathing. He was so tired now, without the anger keeping him awake, and the warmth pressing against him, the sway and rock just as much of a comfort.

Like he was a child, a wayward animal in need of soothing. If he still had any pride left, he’d be mortified. But his pride had been long trampled into dust, and he was far, far too small now to take no for an answer when one of his siblings offered him affection like this.

“You’ll stick ‘round?” he asked, hearing the slur in his own words.

“Yeah, bud,” Diego said, voice wavering like it always did when Five asked this question. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Five sighed softly, tightening his hold on his brother and letting his thoughts go to focus on the sensations instead.

more snips here and here

#tua #tua fanfic #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy

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warsamongthestars · 1 month ago

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Emerie was (one of many) wasted original characters for TBBshow, y'know?

Like...

... I don't feel for her. Yeah, it seems like she's set up to be Omega's parallel, and yeah, there was lead up to her declaration of being a clone (more so than whatever fucking lead up S1 had for its finale).

But uh...

What, exactly, is special about her as a character?

Significant personality? No. Even TBBshow's variant of the BBs had Personality for Days. She's got the Overlogical Persona, and only when the Camera was on her for an episode did she decide that she needed the morals of Omega... Frankly, she would've done better being kept an antagonist. ... Hemlock has personality, Rampart has Personality--though I'd argue that they both have the SAME Personality, just in Different Roles (Talk about copypasting your own stuff). ... Infact, she's practically a Tech Copy, that's how little personality they bothered to give her.

Aesthetic? Pff. No. She's caught the Star Wars (and let's face it, most Sci-fantasy shows, video games, media, most of the action genre... most of the adventure genre... you fuckin name it) "Pretty Woman Disease". She's meant to look sexy with very minimum masculine traits. ... Which means she's dull as hell to look at, because there's nothing to catch the eye beyond Barbie Doll. Personally, if I want a barbie doll character, I can just go out and buy Barbie. She's got no freckles, no scars, no significant body phenotype, she only partially looks like a clone (and frankly if they had given her more of a Fett Clone appearance, so like muscles and tallness and strong jaw, that would've given her a damn good eye-catching appearance. ) ( Plus, I like a lady who looks like she can turn my spine into a pretzel. ) She's got no significant armor (Personally I would've loved if she was CX02, because that would've given her Something. )

Her name is Mando'a. "Emuurir'Kar" probably means "Joy" (Emuurir means Enjoyment so...) Which, is a start... But uh, name how many old OCs we all have out there, whose names ended up being Nightshade or Twilight or Rei. You can have a good name, but if there's nothing to back it up... well, its just a title.

I don't see any fanart running around about her... Do you? No fan headcannons, no significant fanfics... That pretty much tells us how the audience thought of her. Which means, it Didn't. Even my headcanons don't really include her, because she's just, not, impactful. At all.

Plot Impact? None that couldn't be done by anyone else. Which isn't just her fault, its one of the many faults of the show itself.

She's just... Not.

Now.

How would I fix her, with the TBBshow plot as it stands?

Easy.

First Draft... Replace Hemlock with Emerie. Make her the fifth enhanced clone, and the missing CT-9902, and make her the CX-02 clone. She didn't just serve the Empire, she served the Republic doing the same thing. She's named joy both out of irony and out of the fact that she "does her duty with fulfillment".

She stayed as Nala Se's former assistant, but when the opportunity came to become the master, she took it. She was the head of project Necromancer, up until Hunter put a spear into her gut.

This Emerie gets S1 foreshadowing with the dead and experimentation on clones.

The mention of the fifth enhanced clone gets small beats of silent drama, which will tell the audience that meeting this character would not be a good thing.

Second Draft. Emerie is an entirely new character placement, and actually gets placed on Crosshair's elite squad in S1. He has no idea who the fuck this is, as they never sleep in the same quarters.

She has the same armor type, though not coloring, as CX-02.

Come S1 Finale, she picks Crosshair up from the platform, and finally removes her helmet, showing her off to be a Lady and a Medic.

S2, they're kept apart, until the end, where Emerie shows how tired she is of serving the "greater good", and being the Medic in a meta-narrative sense, allows her to save Tech as well.

S3, and the Bad Batch are eventually united by the end as a complete Squad.

Third Draft She's actually been with Clone Force 99 all along, but has to stay on Kamino for half the missions because she's Nala Se's main assistant. This would go on to be the reason why she wouldn't have appeared in TCWshow during main scenes with Nala Se (such as the Conspiracy Arc), but also why she wouldn't have appeared on Anaxes.

And she just follows the adventures as a brand new character, with her own set of armor and abilities.

As for personality quirks... Think, exaggerated Mad Scientist with Supervillian attachment--after all, she's been around too many Kaminonians, but she's also apart of the Super Duper Awesome Squad. You think, at first, she's going to be like Tech... but instead she's more emotive, more prone to supervillian-like behavior (maniacal laughter, dramatic scenes, chewing the scenary), sometimes even overhonesty. She's the Stan to Tech's Ford, the Doofensmirtz's to Hunter's platypus, the giggly bitch to Wrecker's rambunctious laughter. She absolutely delights in small torments, (provided it doesn't actually hurt anyone--she is still a medic after all), and she has a loud aggravated sigh when she isn't allowed to handle the rocket launcher.

( ... I may or may not have thought about this a bit. )

She's only called Emerie by the RCs because she once had a mission with Boss's crew.

What her new name would be, I have no fuckin idea, but it will not be Patches. (I have run into too many medic OCs called Patches, Patches is a dull name now to me. )

Anyway.

I don't like how TBBshow handles Emerie Karr. Frankly, its also pretty indicative on how Star Wars, post OG, handles a lot of its women characters... But my rage is pretty centered on TBBshow right now.

So, Emerie.

#star wars #star wars the bad batch #analysis #criticism #speculation #emerie karr #tbb emerie karr #meeting the bechdel test isn't an achievement its the bare minimum--the standard #meeting the bechdel test but still failing the finkbeiner test is still a failure of character writing

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liangxinn · 3 months ago

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a little MW x mignon AU

Found this year-old AU collecting dust at the bottom of my drafts and decided to send it out into the world! I must have started it immediately after I finished Mignon. I just can't resist the pull of eager puppy x aloof cat combo ¯\_(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)_/¯ I remember falling in love with the atmosphere, that gritty city bathed in red light, and wanting to explore the dynamic of Youngwon and Mignon's early relationship. You can find 1.3k of an opening scene below ^^

Mingyu's teeth are sharper than Wonwoo's own.

It's hard to ignore them when he's always flashing that huge grin of his as he pokes his head through the infirmary door. As if there's anything to smile about in this hellhole. But here he is again, smiling like a fool while Wonwoo patches up a cut on his forehead. It's not an injury from a fight, but the result of his clumsy nature. Smacked his head on the garage door at the mechanic's, supposedly, and he was a bit careless and reopened the wound.

The points of Mingyu's canines dig into his plush lower lip ever so slightly. Wonwoo's eyes flicker downwards, and he forces them back up. Mingyu's grin grows just a touch wider.

Try as he might, Wonwoo can't bring himself to hate the sight. It's what a kid like Mingyu should be doing, going to university and charming countless new friends into his pocket with his good looks. He shouldn't be stuck here getting roughed up on the regular just for some cash that'll be burned up by the weekend. Especially not when the majority of his modest earnings goes straight into the wallet of that piss-poor excuse for a man Mingyu calls his coach.

There's an earnestness in his deep brown eyes that the ring hasn't beaten out of him yet. Truth be told, Wonwoo doesn't want to see the day when Mingyu's toothy grin vanishes for good, which is why he tells Mingyu the same thing night after night:

"When are you going to find yourself a proper job and get the hell out of here?"

And flippant as ever, Mingyu will shoot back his usual response, "This is all I'm good for, ssaem."

The worst part is that he says it like he believes it. Heavens, would Wonwoo love to track down the bastard who taught him such complete bullshit.

Mingyu's a smart boy. Probably had a promising future before he got tangled up in all of this, though he's somewhat notorious for being tight-lipped about his past. He'd dropped by the infirmary one night just to quietly pore over a book in the corner. When Wonwoo succumbed to his curiosity and asked what he was reading, Mingyu showed him the cover of a second-hand anatomy textbook.

"I have a lot to catch up on," he'd said with a shy smile, "y'know, since I never finished high school and all. I was thinking it would be nice to go to university someday... ah, but that'll probably never happen."

If Wonwoo actually had some semblance of a spine, he would have agreed and told Mingyu to abandon that fruitless dream. But he couldn't bear to be so cruel as to rub salt into the wound when Mingyu already thought so lowly of his future, nor could he lie and offer up some nice words of empty optimism. In the end, all he did was ruffle Mingyu's hair in a rare gesture of affection.

The sound of Mingyu's voice calling for him drags Wonwoo away from his musings and back into the moment.

"Ssaem," Mingyu says lowly, breathlessly. His canines are still out on proud display, and Wonwoo can see the mole on the tip of his nose. How did Wonwoo fail to notice him getting this close? "Your eyes are so pretty. Have I ever told you that?"

Damn it all, Wonwoo thinks as he feels his ears growing warm.

"You must have hit your head too hard," he dismisses with a scoff, rolling his chair backwards and standing up to go to the sink. "You're all done. Now get out already."

Mingyu makes a noise of protest, most likely pouting, but there's a yell of his name from outside. It's that loud-mouthed coach of his, screaming at him to hurry up and get ready. Wonwoo really wishes the man would shut the fuck up for just one night.

Left with no choice, Mingyu bids Wonwoo goodbye in a rather dejected tone and slips out of the infirmary. He's one of the few people at the club who have the courtesy to close the door gently on his way out. He didn't get a chance to wish him good luck, Wonwoo realises with a sigh. Not that Mingyu will need it with the state of his current performance.

As Wonwoo reaches to turn the tap on, he catches sight of Mingyu's blood streaked against the side of his index finger. It's already tacky, half-dried and flaking on his skin. He inspects it idly while the water runs on and on, splattering against the basin.

Against his better judgement, Wonwoo brings his hand to his mouth and licks it clean. The rich taste of metal coats his tongue.

Mingyu loses the fight.

Wonwoo knows this not because he saw the match, nor did he hear the gossip circulating amongst the club's patrons. No, he knows because Mingyu flinches hard when Wonwoo places a light hand on his shoulder the next day.

Mingyu tries to put on a brave face, but he falters almost immediately beneath Wonwoo's gaze. Without a single word, he grabs the back of his collar and pulls his shirt over his head, then turns around. Even though Wonwoo knows what's coming, the sight still fills him with silent rage.

Bruises lash across Mingyu's back in long, red-purple stripes. It's a miracle the blows hadn't broken through skin. Wonwoo brushes his fingertips ever so slightly against one of the mottled bruises, and even that barely-there touch makes Mingyu's muscles tense up. It can't possibly be that he can no longer distinguish between a hand that holds no ill intent and one that means to hurt him.

"Why do you stay?" Wonwoo asks, no louder than a whisper.

"Coach didn't really hit me that hard. It looks worse than it is," Mingyu jumps to the defensive far too quickly for Wonwoo's liking. "I mean, he still gives me a roof over my head and he feeds me plenty, so... it's fine. It's 'cause I lost, anyway."

"Mingyu."

At the sound of his name, Mingyu peers over his shoulder. The corner of his mouth twitches up into a grin. He says, teasing, "Aw, you worried about me, ssaem?"

Yes. I am. I'm worried that living like this is going to tear you apart limb from limb. I'm worried that no matter how much I tend to your wounds, I won't be able to mend your broken spirit. I'm worried that someday, they'll push you beyond your limits and you'll just burn yourself and everything around you up like a supernova.

Wonwoo doesn't say any of these things. He stares at the tiles and forces himself to take a deep breath through his nose. Exhale. Once more.

"I'm going to have a word with your coach. How does he expect you to perform when he's already beaten you half to death?"

Mingyu snorts as he tugs his shirt back on, "I don't think Coach was worried about that at the time. Don't trouble yourself, ssaem. I can handle it."

Then, in a move so bold it shocks Wonwoo into total silence, Mingyu reaches out to trace a knuckle down Wonwoo's cheek and tips his chin up so their gazes catch and hold. Mingyu's eyes are gentle, and his smile has lost its sly edge. He looks so heartachingly young.

"Thanks for caring about me," he says softly before stepping back and leaving the infirmary just like that.

Late into the night, Mingyu's touch lingers like a phantom. The mere thought brings warmth to Wonwoo's cheeks as he prepares to lock up before sunrise, stopping at the spot where Mingyu had stood in front of him hours earlier. Not even a chilled bag of blood can quell the heat.

Wonwoo can feel his affection for Mingyu growing teeth and eyes and limbs, morphing into a creature of his own making and feeding upon the tender parts of his heart.

He would do well to kill it now before it has a chance to fester within him.

#yan writes #long post #minwon #snippets

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