#just pretend you look like the oc to make it a reader insert

[cinnbar-bun]

Straw Hats- Reversed AU HCs

AU: In which YOU are the character of a very famous franchise, and they are regular people who are fans of your series.

Note: GN!Reader, crack, very unserious

Luffy

Thinks you’re neat! Super cool!

People think he doesn’t really “get” you and just likes you for your awesome powers and/or cool appearance, but he drops like an innocent yet profound tidbit about you that shows he really is thinking of you.

Honestly probably only has a bootleg figure of you courtesy of Ace. It’s goofy as hell but he adores it.

Maybe has one of those printed graphic tees.

Ace and Sabo joke about his love for you but then Luffy throws his slippers at them.

If he sees anything with you on it, he’s just gushing over it.

Loves finding funny comics with you online.

Zoro

Guy who likes you for your powers.

The same guy who is also a weeb in front of the mirror and tries to replicate your awesome moves.

Help his roommates caught him-

I think he’d get those compression shirts/shorts with you or a symbol of yours for when he works out.

Also the guy who’s working out to your voice like those ASMR videos so he can pretend you’re praising him and congratulating him.

Gets into fights with Sanji about who’s the bigger fan.

I don’t see Zoro as the type to “collect” things, but he’d probably have a keychain of you around his belt or something as a good luck charm.

Might even have an action and poseable figure of you like a Figma.

Nami

Likes you lots, but also recognizes your merch potential.

Works alongside Usopp to produce fan merch or zines for you to make money.

Has a unique piece of jewelry with your symbol/iconography to wear.

She’s not wearing “obvious” for merch, because she just isn’t about that.

Probably has a few very expensive figures of yours that are special edition or anniversary editions that she managed to get at a steep discount.

Reads a bit of fanfic but tends to mostly peruse fanart of you.

Tends to have multiple ships for you- she doesn’t really favor one over the other she just thinks they’re interesting.

Likes to do cosplays of your fits, though. She’s gotten very popular for her lovely cosplays. She tends to handmake most of her cosplays, but Usopp and Franky add to the amazing accessories.

Plays the gacha game for your series, and her amazing luck means she gets practically all your units easily.

Usopp

The artist of the group who has seen and had to do heinous things for a commission.

Unlike the others, he IS making a self insert and HE IS DOING ART AND COMICS WITH YOU AND HIM AS THE MAIN COUPLE!

Has made a name for himself of making doujins and art for you. His store has seen lots of purchases for his doujins.

Nami basically is his account manager and has made him raise commission prices many times in order to pay their rent and so he can realize how valued his work is.

He mostly just posts his work but does like answering questions from fans and posting about how awesome you looked in the new episode.

Always making art and stories from you.

Has done fanfiction for you but it’s mostly with his OC/SI and his artwork tends to be more well-known.

Always does special drawings for your birthday and various holidays.

Plays the gacha and has bad luck so he has to whale for your unit. He insists he prefers just regular console or PC gaming instead of gacha.

Sanji

Number one fan, he WILL get into arguments about you and inject you into everything.

All your figures, all your merch, all of it in one specific room dedicated to you. Sanji even has a lifesize figure of you in a cool/cute pose he religiously cleans (and prays to ngl) every day because AINT NO WAY HIS LOVE IS GOING TO GET A SPECK OF DUST ON THEM!!

His work as a chef makes him busy, but he likes to wear small things of you like a brooch or something on his uniform to cheer him up through the day.

Makes videos cooking things you cooked or dishes you liked within the series.

He sometimes shows off his collection and Zoro calls him a loser and they get into fights in the comments.

Commissions art of you (probably Usopp) to hang up in the (Y/n) room.

I feel like he would do a persona/self-insert but also I feel like he’d be like no!!!! I cannot sully my beloved like that!!! So he focuses on just you.

Blocks people who are fans of you and does not like shipping anyone with you, hell no his mellorine is HIS!!!

Has done fanfic, mostly self-insert, and that’s pretty much all he reads. No ships.

Robin

“Oh, (Y/n)? Yes, they are an interesting character. I like them.”

[1 Million word count fic series, tagged: slow burn, character exploration, heavy angst, found family, Book 4 of 7]

“I just think they’re neat.”

Probably the mother fic writer for you and/or one of your ships.

Doesn’t socialize much online, just tends to post and scroll through the fics for you and answers comments under her fic.

Likes to support her fellow creators so she does look into the art and projects other fans have made.

Does try to create her own aesthetics for her blog and fics, but sometimes she just commissions Usopp to make her things for her fics to fit her vision.

Is really into unique and often abstract or “dark” art of you.

Yes you’re her favorite character, yes she will still make you suffer in her fics and art for the ~development~.

It’s a running gag with her peers where they ask her how she will torture them next.

She finds the Nendoroids of you are quite cute, so she bought one to go on her desk.

Franky

Franky likes making garage set figures of you.

He’s also a bit of a dork, so he will often make you pose with a super sentai outfit or large gundam robots (since they’re also a part of his crafting hobby).

Makes videos showing off the new figures he made of you.

He loves you cuz you’re his hero, you just amaze him!

Printed a photo of the art your creator did where you guys were all dressed like super heroes or something- suuuuppper up his alley and he loved seeing it.

He likes collecting the manga/comics for your series and keeps them on his personal shelf.

Franky also helps Nami/others with specific cosplay accessories. Franky is known for his craftsmanship, so he’s made plenty of cosplay gear for others that are above and beyond.

Him and Usopp have collabed to create the original figures of you that Franky adores.

Does those videos where he takes cheaper/smaller figures of you and adds to the base and design to make it more “epic”.

What the hell is “fanfiction”?

Brook

Goes by the username “Soul King” and uploads his covers of your franchise’s music.

He really loves you though so he’s often rocking your shirts while he’s recording the music.

He does a lot of different genres for your theme covers- jazz, heavy metal, lofi, piano, music box- he’s done em all.

Whenever he’s not recording covers of his music and does streams, he very proudly shows his figure of you and a poster he has hanging up on his wall.

Also plays the gacha game, has pretty good luck but never with your units.

“Wow! 5 Sugo-rares! Who are they- GOD DAMN IT IT’S JUST THE OTHERS!!! RATE UP IS A LIE!!!”

Brook is a menace though and I’m gonna keep that under wraps for various reasons.

Maybe in the future I might explain further.

Jinbei

Jinbei is classy, unlike many of the others here (we will not name names).

He’s more likely to “make” his own merchandise for you.

Handmade doll with a lovingly sewn kimono, for example.

Fancy tea set that is painted with your symbols but it’s so subtle and chic that some of his viewers don’t even realize it’s from some random franchise he likes.

He prides himself on his traditional and handmade crafts and you’re just an avenue to experiment with them.

He likes to design the kimonos and outfits with you in mind and the season. He shows the process of creating it in these calm and quiet BTS videos.

Really they are beautiful and the amount of love and skillmanship put into the work he does is fantastic, it’s awe inspiring.

Does not know what a fanfic, a gacha, or what a “fan edit” is. He’s an old man he’s got things to do, man.

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part | Lore Deep Dive 1.0

𝐀/𝐍: Hello everyone! I wanted to make a short intro about this post and why I came up with the idea to drop something like this. If you remember the poll I did regarding this series, people voted to keep this story in a reader-insert format, which means that technically I can't make the MC a full-fledged OC. Also, I know that a lot of people don't like the whole idea of reader-insert fanfiction, where the reader has an established name and personality, including background and some other pieces of lore. And I highly respect that position, so this material is mostly a fun service for those who don't mind learning some lore about Patrick and Becca's dynamics. I plan to do more posts like this, so I hope you'll enjoy them! Thank you very much for being patient with me, I really appreciate your support! Unfortunately, I don't really know which tags are more appropriate to use in this situation, x reader or x OC, so I would use both for this time and see how it works.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [SERIES M-LIST]; [SONG REC]. 💕

Rebecca & Patrick: The Past that Won’t Die Patrick and Becca have never been friends. Not really. But they were something. Linked by family alliances, summer homes, private schools, and social events, their lives ran parallel—and occasionally clashed in ways that still sting years later. Rebecca used to call him "Patty," a nickname he pretended to despise. He'd sneer and correct her in front of others, but deep down he adored the way she said it, as if she saw something in him that no one else did.  Speaking of Patrick—he used to call her "Dove." There were layers to the nickname. It began the year they were thirteen, after he gave Becca one of those tiny, delicate FAO Schwarz glass doves—the kind later seen in Home Alone 2. It was a rare moment of tenderness. Patrick gave her the dove without ceremony, muttering that it "looked like her—boring and fragile." But he saw her smile, and he noticed when she started keeping it on her nightstand. She still has it, in 1987. Patrick does not. The day he left for Harvard, he broke his dove under the heel of his Gucci-designed leather shoe. Deliberately. Slowly. In front of no one. It was a quiet execution of whatever feelings he might have had. In his mind, it was a ritual—a purification. By destroying it, Patrick convinced himself he could sever the emotional thread that bound him to her. But it didn't work. Not really.

That Kiss, That Slap – Newport, Summer of 1976 Rebecca was sixteen and had always been afraid of thunderstorms. Patrick knew this. Though he never said it out loud—never offered a kind word or gesture—he just watched her. More than he admitted, he noticed how she flinched at the first crack of thunder, how she hunkered down when the sky darkened and the rain began to fall. That day in Newport, the storm rolled in fast, wind howling, trees bending, the sky cracking like glass. They were alone, caught outside in a sudden downpour. Patrick grabbed her hand without asking and pulled her under the raised porch of one of the old houses that lined the beach. The rain drummed against the wood above them. Becca shivered—not with cold, but with fear. And he could see it. Something changed in his normally stoic face.  Without a word, he reached up, gently tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear, and kissed her. Not cruelly. Not mockingly. It was hesitant—too human. And for a moment the world stopped. But only for a moment, because the second their lips parted, she slapped him. Rebecca's delicate hand slapped him abnormally hard, catching him off guard. Tears were in her eyes before she turned and ran out into the storm, her thin summer dress clinging to her skin, her feet stomping through puddles as she sobbed and disappeared into the rain. They never spoke of it again, but the memories of that day were as sharp and stinging as an open, fresh wound. A wound that would one day begin to rot—they both knew it, but chose to move on.

The Rabbit Incident – Mushroom

Rebecca's rabbit, Mushroom, was everything Patrick was not—soft, calm, comforting. A gift from a neighbor, Mushroom became her refuge. In a world where she was ignored, underestimated, or taken advantage of, this little creature offered her something rare—unconditional love. Patrick hated him. Not just because he was a "stupid ball of fur," but because Mushroom meant something to Rebecca. Patrick was selfish, jealous, and arrogant—too proud to admit that he loathed anything that made her smile without him being the cause. In his mind, Mushroom was stealing her attention. And Patrick didn't share it. One afternoon, Mushroom was found dead under an open window. "He jumped," her mother explained, feigning concern. "Tragic accident."  Everyone believed it—except Rebecca, because on some basic level she could sense the cruel deception she refused to acknowledge. And Patrick never confessed—never had to. The smug glint in his eye, the way he comforted her with a hand on her back and a hollow, "I'm so sorry, Dove," said it all. To everyone else it was an act—a mask. But to her it was war.  Even now she still has Mushroom's collar, hidden in the back of her drawer. Just like the dove, just like the pain, just like a pile of pictures of them torn apart and glued back together. One day, Rebecca's stitched heart would be among all those things, too—she knew it, but felt helpless in forcing herself to get rid of everything that reminded her of him.

P.S. I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community or my side-blog to know when I update!

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Cool Continuations

Quinn x Reader!oc

Word Count: 900 words!

Authorial Note: Part two of ‘Concrete Impressions.’ This is also a part of Cookie’ Universe! Thank you for the overwhelming amount of support on this au so far 🥺🫶🏼. NOTE THAT THIS IS ALSO A NORMAL QUINN FIC, IT IS A READER INSERT THAT ALIGNS WITH MY AU.

Warnings: Mentions of War in a classroom context.

‘The Vietnam War, started on the first of November, 1955…’ Quinn rested his chin on his balled-up fist. The bottom, bony part of his elbow was turning red and beginning to ache from how much weight he was resting on it. He wasn’t paying attention to the lecture at all. Normally, he only paid attention if it was dire or if he had an exam fast approaching. But today was different. He glanced periodically over at Cookie, paying attention to someone else entirely.

Quinn was hunched over, day-dreaming himself silly over the idea of being her prince charming. He imagined teaching her to skate, maybe even getting her to come to one of his games, wearing his jersey...

“What was that date again?” Y/N sighed, looking pensively at her iPad notes. Quinn’s heart jumped—he wanted to answer her, just to see her smile. He quickly Googled it, then read her the answer. In doing this, he learned he could be the one to make her smile, something he had already decided was his favorite thing. He pretended to absorb all the professor’s information like a sponge, even jotting down a few notes when she did.

Soon, he was noticing even more details about her, things he couldn’t help but find adorable. She was so particular about her academics; her notes were methodically typed and organized. She used both a physical calendar and an online one, and had a habit of thinking out loud. During a small writing task, she mumbled to herself, like a human articulation machine. She would say a word, then scrunch up her face, muttering something about there being a better one. He found himself smiling whenever she did this, realizing he didn’t just like seeing the joy on her face when she found the right word—he loved it.

‘Homework is due by 9 p.m. on Friday… dismissed!’

Quinn watched as she wrote this down in her physical planner: left side, third row down. He barely knew her, but he already felt himself sliding from curiosity to borderline obsession. He wanted to know every little thing that made Cookie unique, down to the tiniest detail. "What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon, Cookie?”

He watched as Y/N meticulously packed her notebook and iPad into her bag, slinging it back onto her shoulder. She adjusted her hair, tucking it over her ear. “I’m heading back to my dorm to have a pretty tame night. I’ll probably finish homework for this class, as well as my work for bio! It’s Tuesday though, so I’ll be ordering Indian and watching Gilmore Girls!”

Quinn smiled to himself gently. “Sounds like a packed evening there!”

“It will be, but it’s relaxing to me.” She quietly thanked a classmate who held the door open for them. Once they were in the corridor, Quinn lingered, desperate to absorb every second he could with her.

“Do you have anything on tonight, Quinn?”

The dazed look in his eyes dulled, and he snapped back to the moment. “I have hockey training tonight. We’ve got a game on Thursday, against BU.”

“Fun!” she said with a beaming smile, removing her heavy bag to hold it in front of her. Quinn noticed this and put two and two together—she’d been holding it too long, and it was getting heavy.

“I hope you do well in that game, Quinn!”

Quinn scratched the back of his neck, letting out a sheepish laugh as his eyes crinkled with a smile. “I was actually wondering… I know it’s sudden and short notice, but would you like to come? I could get you a ticket.”

He watched as surprise washed over her features. “You would want me to come?”

“Yeah!” What he really wanted to say was, I’d love for you to be there, but he managed, “I think it would be great if you were there!”

She smiled, a small joy-filled expression that just about melted Quinn. “I’d love to be there if it’s not too much hassle to get me a ticket?”

“Not at all! I can get you one and message it to you… I would need your phone number though!” He was trying to play his cards right. Even though he barely knew her, he knew these hours were some of the most formative and important he’d ever lived.

“Here, pass your phone—I can put it in!” Quinn placed his phone in her small, delicate hand and watched as her nimble fingers typed in her number before she handed it back carefully. “I have to go, but I’m sure I’ll see you again, Polka-dot.”

“Polka-dot?” Quinn looked down at her, bewildered. “What kind of nickname is that?”

“You’ll just have to find out!” She grinned at him, her hair waving as she turned and made her way toward the exit, her bag slung back on her shoulder. Quinn felt dazed, in awe of everything about her—her beauty, her kindness, and most of all, her effortless ability to be herself.

As she left, he realized she’d agreed to come to his game, and he had her phone number. Now, he just needed to make sure he didn’t mess this up. The next priority was securing that ticket for her, which meant that soon, all his teammates would know.

This was going to be interesting. But Quinn already knew it would be so, so worth it.

[anonmousegosqueak]

Okokokok. So I’m nonbinary (she/they, afab) and I tend to switch presenting masc or femme fairly often. So what about Poly or platonic 141 and reader or oc who is similar? Like with a she/they who presents both ways but leans towards masc?

If you’re not comfy with it that’s fine! No worries if you don’t write it. Just thought I’d send a little potential inspo your way ☺️ have a nice evening

Spaghetti. I'm literally the same, if I were to write about an OC it would just be my super cool awesome self insert who everyone loves and has fifty billion boyfriends and they all smoke weed. Specifically self insert- as I am also they/she and tend to switch between masc and fem presenting.

But while I love and cherish that oc, I also understand that not everyone wants to see that. I made them for myself, not to plague the online with "Mary Sue" or whatever.

Anyways- I guess poly!141 x reader? I'm still not sure how to title stuff sooo~ I'm also gonna be smart and put a cut in now because I *know* I'ma get carried away and write till my fingers break.

Gonna break this up into individual reactions/responses (dw it's nothing but fluff)

Okay let's start with the boomer who isn't actually that old (38 is not old...) but it's funny to pretend he is:

Surprisingly enough, Price not only understands, he 100% hypes you up. He tends to default to they/them pronouns but will (if you're okay with it) absolutely call you "one of his boys" masc or fem. After his shithead father was... Him. Price kinda took it upon himself to be a good mentor to y'all, especially if your own dad isn't great- or even if he's fine tbh, this guy snatched up Kyle despite him (in my hc) having an alright dad. So yeah, he may or may not teach you 'man-ly stuff'.

For example: date night to the club. You want to dress more masculine?

Price: "Luv- are you planning on wearing that? Borrowing one of Simon's shirts? No doll, here take one of mine. It brings out your eyes~"

The shit in question is the most old-man flannel you could imagine, like sir- w h y.

Granted, it does look pretty good on you...

Date at the club, looking more fem?

Price: "Stunning as always- pretty thing. I think this necklace would pair well."

To be fair, he'd think you'd look beautiful in anything (or nothing).

Would absolutely buy you a binder if you want, he makes sure you practice safe binding as well. Wouldn't want his wonderful partner to break a rib! That's Johnny's thing.

Listen, Price may or may not have dabbled in some drag when he was younger. While it's not the same, he understands presenting in a way different from your gender identity. He always loves when he can use she/her pronouns while you look masc af, it makes him do that ugly quokka smile he does.

Besides, you'll always be his lovely partner no matter gender or presentation.

Little kitty meow meow sunshine baby boy princess:

Ghost is... Well okay- does he understand? Not really. Does he care? Also no. As long as you're happy, he'll do whatever the hell you want him to. Something as simple as using whatever pronouns no matter how you dress? Bro, he's used to shooting people for his partner, this is nothing. Mate does not give a heck about SAAB, presentation, or identity. Just tell him what to do and he'll do it.

Tell him you prefer she/they pronouns? Okay luv. Tell him you wanna take his shirt because you want to dress masculine and you think the oversized look would be cute? Alright, here you go. (You meant one of the ones from his closest, not what he was wearing but okay)

Bro would care more if you microwaved tea than whatever gender stuff makes you comfortable.

Also- 100% would knock the lights out of anyone who tried to disrespect you. He's already punching homophobes, why not add transphobes to the list?

This one is the shortest because he really does not care. As long as you're happy, he's happy. He might not go out of his way to support you, more because he doesn't know how than because he doesn't care (in a rude way). Similar to his sexuality (check out my post :3 about 141 sexualities), he doesn't fully understand terms or even the actual definitions, he just knows he likes you and you like being called certain things and dressing certain ways.

MEN 13IN1 Shampoo Conditioner Body Wash Toothpaste Mouthwash Deodorant Peanut Butter Gatorade Milk Tin Foil Tennis Shoes Dental Floss Eye Drops:

Bro- Soap is literally so gay

But nah, again referencing my earlier post- Soap doesn't give a heck what your gender is, he's gonna hit that no matter what. He's also got a bit of a foggy view of his own gender, often dressing however he wants masc or fem.

Y'all are trading clothes, no questions asked.

He's much more likely to talk about it, making jokes and such. Whereas Simon quietly accepts you, Soap is a lot more vocal about it. He thinks a good date is heading to a pride parade, he's 100% right.

Sometimes he will get it wrong, calling you the wrong pronouns or something, but you better believe he'll be begging on his knees for forgiveness. Just a silly guy. He loves you, no matter shape or size or presentation or identity.

Soap: "Oi- Bonnie! Can I wear your skirt?"

That's right, you won't be taking his clothes but he'll be taking yours. Well... You could wear his clothes but you won't be wearing them for long. He gets excited at the very idea. One time you put on a random hoodie, not seeing the hole MACTAVISH on the back, and within ten minutes of seeing you he was holding you up like a trophy and showing you off.

Soap: "Lookit my pretty lass! They can wear a skirt or a suit and look absolutely stunning!"

So yeah, like a puppy in a pride bandana.

hghhhhhnnnn... Must bite hussbannnd...

Uh- Gaz. Yeah. Mhm. Please ignore that, my inner demons wanted a word in.

I think he's a perfect mix of Johnny and Simon. Very supportive, but also much more chill. He's also the most likely to ask you questions, like 'what pronouns do you want me to use?' and 'are you okay if I call you baby?' and 'i noticed your wearing a lot more masculine clothes, do you wanna go shopping for more?'. He's a firm believer in communication, no matter what.

He's also a certified pretty boy™, if you match outfits with him he will literally get down on one knee right there.

He's also particularly fond of complementing you no matter what. You could be fresh out of bed and not even properly dressed yet, he'll be saying you're the hottest thing he's ever seen. Masculine, feminine, he thinks you're amazing.

He also likes making outfits with you. Please tell him if you wanna dress up today, he'll be right next to you looking through clothes and asking you what you wanna wear.

Idk man, he wants nothing more than for you to be happy and would do anything to make sure you're comfortable in your skin.

Uhh- I may have lost track of what the og ask was, I got distracted thinking about how heckin adorable these guys are. Tldr: peg them.

Okay bye <3

[sinsinsininning]

A little bit softer

Chapter 2.

Eustass Kid x crew mate!fem!reader

TW: depictions of DV, descriptions of medical terms and procedures, not as smutty

A/N: I don’t know why but l always have to make my reader inserts or OCs a medic in some way……It’s probably bc I’m a vet tech.

~~~~~~

Kid felt… guilty, which wasn’t a normal thing for him. Suspecting you were scared of him was one thing. But knowing you were scared of him was another entirely.

He wanted to shake himself some days, you were just a rookie. Not his lover. Not his partner. He didn’t owe you anything. But then he’d ruin his own pep talk by thinking of you and your face.

After your conversation with Heat, Kid walked on eggshells around you. The entire crew was still trying their damnedest to meddle with him, so encounters with you had ramped up a lot. You both still did your best to avoid eye contact or speak to him. But it was clearly starting to wear on the crew’s patience.

“You need to handle your shit.” Killer said to him one day in his workshop. Kid couldn’t even pretend not to know what he was on about.

“You need to fuck off!” He shouted, feeling his shoulders shake.

“Just talk with her, you never know, maybe she likes you as well.”

Kid burst out in hysterical laughter, needing a few moments to catch his breath.

“She’s terrified of me Killer,” He coughed. “She thinks I’m gonna hit her or something. I heard her telling Heat.” Killer cocked his head, thinking.

“All the more reason to clear the air. What’s more is I can’t have the crew keep trying to pair the two of you up, it’s getting in the way of their tasks.” Kid fixed him with a glare.

“Newsflash, asshole! You were the one who started that shit!” He turned back to his table. “Besides the fuck am I gonna say to make her feel better? Huh?”

“That’s true, you’re not good with words.” Killer nodded and began approaching him. “You’ll just have to use your actions.” Kid laughed.

“Oh yeah? How am I gonna do that?” He asked sarcastically before a sharp pain flared in his right arm. “Ow what the fuck?!”

Killer had cut his arm, a deep laceration at least 5 inches long. The masked man shrugged at his shouting.

“She’s in the med bay, go up there, tell her you got cut while working. Ask her to patch you up.”

“Fuck you this stings!” Kid pressed a used rag to his arm. “I’ll fucking stab you.”

“She won’t be there much longer. Tell her you can’t find me and you can’t stitch yourself with one hand.” Killer took that moment leave, Kid stood there fuming for a moment. Part of him wanted to just stay down here and fix it later, just to piss Killer off.

But a stronger part of him wanted to see you, hopefully you wouldn’t run or hide. He made his way slowly to the med bay, almost hoping you’d be gone. As he entered he saw how unlucky he was.

You had your back to him, wiping down the machines that sterilized the suturing materials and other rudimentary instruments. He coughed to get your attention, keeping his injured arm hidden behind the doorframe.

“Hip are you don- oh!” He hated how tense you became, you soft stomach clenching in worry. “Sorry captain, I thought Hip was done with the mop. What can I do for you?” He showed you his arm and felt a small bit better as you gasped with worry.

The rag he’s used to staunch the bleeding made it look worse than it was, but it had dried a little and was now stuck to his skin. You motioned for him to sit on the chair by the table.

“How’d that happen?” You asked, trying to gently peel the rag off.

“Was working and it just kinda happened.” He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to lie to you. “Don’t know where Killer is and I can’t sew with only one hand.” Still not lies technically.

“Gotcha.” You’re all business and he feels a little flush at the sight of you zipping around the room gathering materials. “Well it’s not too bad, really deep though. I’ll numb it, suture it really quick and you should be on your way.” Any trace of fear or anxiety was gone, your posture alert but relaxed, you soft face was focused.

“Take your time.” Kid drawled, enjoying the view, didn’t hurt that your ass looked good as you bent over to grab something under the desk. Your ass always looked good he decided. “Got nowhere to be.”

“Not true,” You return with a small syringe, some type of numbing drug he assumed. “You’re the captain, you probably got plenty of stuff to be doing.”

He didn’t respond, the injection you gave him stung so he had to bite back his swears about it. Neither of you spoke as you worked. You had to stand pretty close to place the sutures, your hands cold but soft as you touched him.

You shivered at one point and Kid realized, horrifically, that he’d leaned to far forward to watch your hands. You glanced up at him, caught his gaze and shuffled a bit further back. He wanted to growl as he saw how tense you’d gotten, your soft apology only making him more frustrated.

You were halfway done and he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“So.” You tensed again, he could see it in your neck especially. “I never did ask… who was your old captain?” You jabbed the needle a bit harder at the question, obviously not on purpose as you profusely apologized. He ignored and continued to stare until you answered.

“His- um. His name is um… It’s Badger. Captain Badger.” You try to focus once more.

“How long did you sail with him?”

“2 years.”

“How big was the crew?”

“About 15.”

“Where’d you sail?”

“West Blue.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Um.” You were almost shaking, he almost hesitated.

“Why’d you leave his crew?”

“What does it matter?” Oh that was a response, he grinned, anger was better than fear. At least in his book.

“Answer the question. It’s important for me to know.”

“You never needed to know before. Why now?”

“Because I’ve been watching you.” He leans forward more, meeting your heated glare as you tied the final knot. “You’ve got some peculiar habits, I’d like to know more about that.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

He nodded.

“Like on deck or like…. In my room?”

“Not like that you pervert!” He can’t help but shout, you don’t flinch though. A small grin on your face as you successfully get him off the topic.

“So not my room or the showers? Just to clarify.” He knows he’s blushing but he still growls and stands to his full height. You step back but he follows you, a look of fear in your eyes takes over the glee. But he can’t stop himself from continuing.

“You’re clever, but I still need an answer.” He crowds your space, placing both hands on the counter behind you, caging your body with his. He leans forward, letting his breath fan over your ear. “Why did you leave?”

You stay silent, face red and a little sweaty, he pulls back just enough to admire the sight. He can’t make a reassuring face to save his life, but he tries as tears fill up your eyes. Still, he can’t stop, he needs this. You need this.

“If you are unhappy with my performance or skills, tell me and I will fix them. I haven’t brought any bad habits on board. I assure you.” You finally answer, your words felt warm against his face, he grinned some more.

“Uh-uh you see, one of those habits, the only one really,” His grin drops from his face. “Is that you’re scared of your captain.” You pale at his words and start to shake a little. He continues, drawing back slightly.

“That’s something he taught you, right?” He tilted his head a little. “To be scared of your captain. Because you never know when he’ll just up hit you, right?” He parroted your words from the bar back to you. Your eyes are wide with recognition.

“I’m sor-“

“Save it,” He cuts you off. “I know I’m scary, it’s my whole deal. I’m a scary pirate who murders and pillage. But my crew is mine. Understood. I don’t let anyone harm them, especially not myself.” You lean back into the counter more.

“You hurt Wire. You made him need staples and you didn’t even seem sorry. You didn’t help patch him up.” Kid knew this was coming, he still didn’t know what to say.

“It was a mistake,” He said. “I didn’t mean to hit him, but you’re right. I should’ve check on him and made sure he wasn’t hurt.” It was hard to admit he was wrong, but in the small medical room, to you, it was a little easier.

Both of you stayed quiet for a while. He made no move to let you go. And you made no move to try. He wasn’t sure if he would’ve actually stopped you if you did. Finally, the tension in you jaw and shoulders eased, just a little.

“Badger… was bad. He didn’t just hit us. He stole from us and wouldn’t let us leave, even if some managed to escape they’d have no Beris. It’d be like starting from scratch, but worse because if he caught you he’d kill you.” You paused, taking a big breath, turning to stare at the wall. “I was secretly saving Beris, to hopefully run off and be able to hide from him. I didn’t have much, barely anything. One day he came and told me he wanted me to be his… wife.” Kid stood up straight, leaning back like he’d been struck, you continued barely noticing him.

“I told him no, I should’ve said yes and bided my time. Maybe I could’ve taken more people with me, but I was an idiot.”

“No that’s not-“ You cut him off.

“He threw a fit, tried to kill me. His devil fruit power nullifies weapons, so I couldn’t fight back. I tried to stage a mutiny, but everyone was too afraid, he’d never lost a fight. Eventually I jumped over board and swam to shore. I hid on a marine ship, I never had a bounty so I just pretended to be some girl who wanted to travel. I flirted with some of them and got a ride to a port a few islands over.” You sighed, a long exhale that seemed to deflate you. “I had no Beris or even clothes. But I overheard some rookies talking about joining your crew. I figured it was the safest option. So I spoke with Killer and here I am.” You trailed off quietly, tears still hadn’t fallen yet, it was almost impressive.

Kid didn’t speak for several long minutes, just watching you hold your breath. Finally he pushed off the counter, giving you both some breathing room. He began to exit when you called out.

“Captain what are you doing?”

He turned with a scowl.

“I’m setting a course to go murder that asshole.”

“What? Why that’s so far off our course.”

“I told you, you’re my crew. We’re gonna go murder him, then if any of your old friends wanna join the crew they can.” He laughed at your shocked face. When he’d caught his breath he turned again to leave.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and a Basket Case— The “Seven Inches of Satanic Panic” Edition

An Eddie Munson x OC Fanfic

The good lord (me) intended this to be an OC x Eddie fanfic, and by god, that’s what y’all are getting from here on. The original reader insert series will be discontinued for now, unless I really get the urge to go back and revisit it.

For now, just enjoy what I originally wanted. Which was over 3,000 words of self indulgent OC fanfic to help me get past these dark times. Life is too short to worry about being cringy.

Warnings: period typical racism, swearing, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse (more tags to be added as the story progresses).

Divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

Pairings: Eddie Munson x OC

Word Count: 4,088 words

[Next Chapter] — [Master List]

Chapter One - Don’t Talk to Strangers

“I'm danger, I'm the stranger.

And I, I'm darkness, I'm anger, I'm pain…”

Hawkins, Indiana was going to be hell on earth. Of that, Alejandra Perea was certain.

She didn’t want to move here in the first place. This whole situation was horseshit. Spur of the moment pendejadas from the family matriarch in command of a newly formed triad where there had once been a quartet. Leaving everything behind, even if it meant new and exciting things on the horizon, it wasn’t necessary. The family did not need a fresh start over in a new state.

No, what everyone needed to do was to start looking harder. She could still remember the advice given to her nearly a year ago, as it was the only solid and reliable advice she had received at the time. Expand the search area, but make sure at least one person stays at the home base. Keep the name in the media as much as possible, even if it meant taking out another loan to buy airtime on the radio stations locally. Question everything. Look for abnormalities, and above all: report, report, report!

Doing something was better than doing nothing, and if Alejandra’s family was any kind of concerned, they would be more aware of the rampant corruption and blatant conspiracy afoot throughout this whole situation. She could see the truth laid out in front of her, especially when there was a way to physically connect the dots. Soon she’d need another Big Chief Tablet to jot down her notes, and since the one sad little general store in town didn’t even have what she needed, the lack of consistency and the unfamiliar stationery was already making her panic.

So instead of playing pretend— telling herself that she would bide her time until she could find a way back home— Alejandra decided she was going to do what she did best when she wasn’t listened to: shut out the entire world, and focus her attention inward as her plan formulated.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer…

“Sit up right, huevona! You’re going to mark my seats.”

Reluctantly, Alejandra slid her feet off the tan leather bucket seat, hoping that the battered treads of her Chucks left marks. Instead of facing her mother’s lecture, Alejandra spent the morning commute looking out the window with a scowl. She wanted to be anywhere but here. This podunk midwestern vibe was horrible. Unfamiliar. A hostile environment of mostly blue collar workers that could sniff out even the most light skinned Latina in a crowded room. Like a petulant child, she kept her thick framed glasses smudged with the oil from her cheeks. Just so she wouldn’t have to actually see Hawkins.

Her mother – Carla Perea– obviously noticed the scowl, and she sighed deeply before trying to speak again.

“I know you’re not happy, but this is a new start for us. Try to make the best of it, huh?”

Alejandra kicked at her blue Jansport backpack.

“And why couldn’t we just have moved somewhere else in New Mexico?! Chingao, you didn’t even think about it, you just put your finger on the map and ya!”

“Watch your mouth, Alejandra.” mom snapped, “And stop with that mocho talk! You know it wasn’t just putting a finger and ya. We needed a fresh start, and Hawkins was the best choice we could make. It wasn’t as impulsive as you make it out to be, it’s what’s best for all three of us.”

“And what the hell about dad?!” Alejandra demanded. “Huh?! How the shit are you honoring your marriage vows by just abandoning him like that?! Better or for worse my fucking asshole!”

Her mother's eyes narrowed as she drove. Obviously her daughter’s backtalk had hit a raw nerve. One of Alejandra’s new found talents was shit talking, the same venomous spitting that only cobras in certain parts of Africa and Asia had mastered. It had only been a year and some change since she’d honed the skill, but this kind of irate wit was too well honed for it to be new.

This talent had been latent. As if waiting for the perfect opportunity…

“What’s done is done.” Carla hissed, knuckles going from tawny brown to white grip, tightening her hold on the steering wheel.

“It’s been over a year, it’s time to accept he’s not coming back. Basta!”

“Bullshit…” Alejandra hissed.

And she would have kept going, if not for Carla deciding that morning to wear her leather belt around the waistline of her denim dress. And not just any belt. Oh no… It was the thick one with the sterling silver Gary Reeves buckle.

The thing about Gary Reeves: his silver work conchos with the fine needlepoint lines hurt like a motherfucker. Especially if there weren't any soft turquoise chunks on the front to cushion your ass from a chingazo. Alejandra wasn’t wearing the right kind of clothes for a fight, anyway. Months of trial and error taught her that her Wrangler culottes – along with a paperback copy of Heretics of Dune tucked in the back pocket– were the only acceptable armor if she wanted to talk shit back to her mother.

So instead of pushing her luck, Alejandra quietly resigned herself to her repetition. Unwilling and unmotivated to start a battle, when her mother was armed and willing to pull off into a Hawkins public parking lot to humiliate them both.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

The Dodge Aspen continued down the unfamiliar streets at a snail’s crawl. Cars boxed them into the single lane going down Cherry Street towards the cluster of schools. Even though the realtor had boasted about the house’s proximity to the finest education in Roane County, the motorists of Hawkins, Indiana managed to turn a ten-minute drive into almost forty-five minutes. Luckily, Carla had anticipated this.

By five thirty that morning, mom was already blasting a mixtape of los classicos, banging on Alejandra’s bedroom door and setting off the barking of the family’s two dogs. Tiffany had almost tripped Alejandra in the bathroom, both dog and girl yelping as Alejandra stumbled and nearly smacked her head on the counter. Scruffy had refused to go outside into the dog run, so everyone stopped what they were doing and aided in chasing him out the back door into the yard with Tiffany at his heels.

And then that darned cat…

Unruly and orange Ripley had puked all over Jaime’s work pants, while he screamed at Alejandra to help him find another pair in his mess of a room. Useless from years of mi hito syndrome, he complained when his sister refused vehemently to take time from blow drying her curls to iron his creases. They’d gotten into a screaming match, until Carla finally conceded to do it for her son to “keep the peace”.

It had been a shitshow of a morning, an omen of things to come.

Carla blasted the horn at a green Gaucho with a white stripe that nearly sideswiped her, the dented vehicle trying to cut in front of their sedan into the lane and nearly taking out a couple of other cars with it.

“Pinches babosos!” Carla growled under her breath.

Alejandra was too pissed off to laugh.

The two women stayed in silence for some time, until at last Alejandra spoke up.

“You couldn’t have picked somewhere with raza at least? Like California?” she muttered, watching the faces of a group of younger teens crossing on bikes at the light.

“I’m light skinned, and I bet I’m the darkest one at school… A la chingada mujer.”

“What does it matter if there’s no raza here?!” Carla demanded, pounding her fist on the tan leather of the middle console, “Get over it. There’s no way we could have managed in California. I’m not going to kill myself working three jobs with your tios in Lynwood!”

“Enserio, mom?! You waited until right at the start of senior year, you didn’t want to wait?” Alejandra whined.

“Wait for what? Wait for you to fail another year in Pojoaque?!” Carla hissed, clearly fed up with her daughter’s bullshit, “I’m not waiting on you to pull your head out from your ass. So shut your mouth, and quit complaining or I will pull this car over. I swear to God.”

Alejandra shut her mouth. She tucked herself into the side of the passenger door with arms crossed, laying her head on the cool glass of the window and curtaining her teary brown eyes with her dark hair.

What could she say back to that?

Her mother was right. A reminder that she was a failure wasn’t necessary. The reminders of lost scholarships and a tanked GPA would follow her the rest of her life. And sometimes, if Alejandra pressed hard enough on the backs of her thighs, she could still feel the sting from the welts she’d gotten for failing senior year back at Pojoaque High School.

This change was stupid. A lot had changed in the past year. Too many things.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

The reasonably happy, vibrant teenage girl that her mother knew was gone. Instead she was replaced by a bitter, angry young adult at eighteen years of age that had her innocence ripped away too young. Alejandra was now compulsive in her actions. Self-soothing in the oddest ways as old, pre-established habits became worse or new symptoms developed.

Pacing up and down the hallway listening to music on full blast was not anything new, chewing on the cuffs of her clothes or on the floss of her friendship bracelets was. As was the rebellion of dyeing all of her clothes some shade of black or gray. Carla had lost her mind when she saw all of the blouses, skirts, and Gunne Sax dresses had been dyed one weekend. It had taken hours to get the stains out of the washer and out of the bathtub at the old apartment back in New Mexico. Chalk that up to another lesson from the Gary Reeves belt.

And then she started failing all of her classes…

Much like any child, Alejandra had always been a bit of a space case. Living half in her imagination and reading weird books, or bothering her parents with second hand anecdotes of aliens and weird monsters. Like any other student, she wanted to spend her afternoons at play rather than at the family dinner table doing homework. Yet that had all been innocent fun. Science fiction books and fairy movies did not a troubled teen make, but lately that vivid imagination was shrouded in grimdark. She read gory novels of true crime and abductions, of both the supernatural and natural genre, rather than bothering with anything like cracking open a chemistry book or meeting her tutor at the library for help with remedial math.

Obsessive thoughts, spiteful biting comments, obsessions with dark media, lashing out and isolating away from everyone… This was not normal. This was not Alejandra Perea’s normal. To everyone else, it wasn’t like her not to care about things.

But she did care. Just not about the things everyone else thought was important.

She currently cared only about two things: the death of Frank Herbert, and Hector Filemón Perea.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

“Mija, I know this isn’t ideal. But you’re strong. You’re going to do fine. Just please… Please try to make the best of this situation. Do it for me, huh?”

The scenery of green trees scattered among the brick-and-mortar buildings of Hawkins held no interest for Alejandra as she ignored her mother. Normally, she would have been captivated by all the greenery. Save for a few day trips to the Jemez Mountains, Alejandra had spent the majority of her life staring at the same desert scrub brush, sand wastes, clay mountains, and adobe houses. Along the road, there were trees and quaint little homes painted daisy yellow, gray white, or the occasional brick and mortar Georgian style home if the occupants were wealthy.

Not one person had the familiar mud brick walls or coyote fencing made of latillas and bailing wire.

Hawkins had boasted four seasons, farmlands with adorable animals, and that unique charm only available in a majority blue collar midwestern town. New Mexico had maybe three seasons and pissed off raza, but she would have given up four seasons and Midwestern charm for the sand and red clay mountains any day. New Mexico was closer to what was important.

New Mexico was closer to dad…

It only got worse as the car approached the high school. Carla pulled into the drop lane; the car still idle as she stared her daughter down with a hard gaze.

Absolutely no move was made to exit the vehicle despite the impatience of the cars behind them. Alejandra stared at the collective student body of Hawkins High with disdain, downright disgust even. As if she would rather swallow glass than get out of the Dodge. She began chewing on the sleeve of her large jacket, already beads of sweat were forming on her forehead from the balmy morning with high humidity.

“Stop chewing on it, you mensa, you’re going to ruin the sleeve!” Carla barked, swatting her daughter’s hand.

Alejandra moved the cuff away from her mouth but said nothing. Instead, she focused on fishing in the pocket of her oversized jacket for her one escape that didn’t have wheels. She produced a battered Walkman with a scratch and sniff sticker on the back. After opening the tape deck, she rooted through the various jewel cases of cassettes in her Igloo Playmate, yanking out a well loved tape from the depths and popping it in.

She pressed play. The volume was turned up so high that her mother scowled when she heard what was blasting from the orange foam speakers of the headphones.

“Come on mija, you couldn’t pick something happier for your first day?”

“Nope.” Alejandra growled, pushing the Walkman into her jacket pocket, “I’m not picking shit else. I’m going to play this fucking tape so loud, that everyone is going to stay far the fuck away from me. Fuck these people, and fuck you too.”

Despite her mother’s sputtering protests and grabbing hands she unbuckled herself, threw open the car door, slung the backpack over her shoulder, and slammed the car door on the way out as she ran towards the double doors.

Not even a whole minute had passed, and already Alejandra was making enemies out of the preppy crowd of Hawkins High. Stomping her way through throngs of students to the front office, she bumped the shoulders of anyone who got in her way, nearly sending some lanky string bean of a freshman flying into his little group of friends.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, frigid bitch!”

She barely heard him over the music, but she did catch the insult.

Who cares? Kick rocks. Kiss my ass. Fuck yourself with a bent tire iron, you little fucking twerp.

I will face my fear… I will permit it to pass over me and through me…

She hoped the coordination of the day would repel everyone too, not just her shitty attitude. Unlike everyone else who had set up their first day back ensembles with care the night before, Alejandra threw whatever she had on hand on. That morning she came to school in a black cardigan layered over top a gray linen dress, black tights layered with dirty socks, beat up Chuck Taylors that had been everywhere from White Sands to TRC, and her dark brown curls straightened with her trusty Gillette Supermax, sprayed in place with a liberal amount of Aquanet. The piece de resistance was the jacket. Even though it was the end of August, she wore a large Carhartt jacket covered in kitschy buttons and patches. Even in the hottest months of the year, that damn thing never came off.

“What are you wearing that jacket for?” asked the school admin assistant, in lieu of a good morning.

Alejandra shrugged noncommittally as she removed her headphones. She stood awkwardly in the front office, and was about to say some smart ass remark when the admin’s hard stare stopped her sharp tongue short.

“... you’re going to boil alive before lunch…” muttered the admin, fanning her neck with a manilla folder, “Heavens to Betsy, I’m sweating just looking at you!”

“... I’m a new student. May I have my school schedule, please…?” Alejandra grunted.

“Ah.” nodded the admin, pulling open one of the drawers on her filing cabinet, “Name?”

“Alejandra Perea…”

“There’s no one here by that name. I only see an Alexandra Pera here.”

Alejandra winced.

Are you fucking kidding me, bitch? Where on my fucking birth certificate did it ever say fucking “Alexandra”?! And how in the hell is “Perea” too difficult for you to say?!

“Yeah… That’s me.” she admitted, then couldn’t help herself, “Alexandra Perea.”

The admin stared down from her imposing cherry wood desk, eyes laser focused at Alejandra from over the top of her large bifocals. Evidently, she did not appreciate being corrected.

“Young lady…” snapped the admin, tapping her eggplant colored nails against a file folder, “We do not tolerate troublemakers at this school. I suggest you quit playing your little games, and say your name correctly when asked. Is that clear?”

Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you-...

“Yes ma’am, thank you ma’am…” Alejandra muttered, looking at her shoes as she took the class schedule and locker assignment from the admin.

The headphones went back on as soon as the admin was done talking. That poor Walkman was blasting so loud, everyone else in the hallway was forced to listen in on James Hetfield’s vocals. That fucking bitch of an admin pissed Alejandra off so much, she could not help but lunge at and startle a few innocent girls in pastel color culottes as they passed by. It was her one line of defense; to deter the general populace of Hawkins High, she had decided to be a goddamned menace to anyone who could not give her a detention.

It was unfortunate really, because no matter how hard Alejandra tried to deter everyone away, it took her ten minutes to realize that Hawkins High– home of the Tigers– had fangs that could snap even the most ironclad of wills in half.

She was drastically underprepared for the high schooler’s reception to her take no shit attitude. One big dude in a letterman that she shoulder checked did not hesitate. He checked her right back, right into the tan lockers lining the halls. The resounding crash of her body colliding with metal was loud and embarrassing, causing a few passing members of the pep squad to point and laugh. As they passed they said hateful, evil, ignorant shit, screaming it into Alejandra’s ear while yanking her headphones off. They wanted her to hear everything. One even yelled out a slur.

All the hate caught her off guard, and she almost checked someone else by accident.

“Watch where you’re going, fucking gap tooth bitch!”

A foot flashed out from some wastoid and sent Alejandra toppling. She would have hit the floor and broken her glasses, had not her oversized jacket caught on the door handle to the girl’s bathroom. She hung there for a few seconds, and felt everyone’s eyes on her. Ugly peals of laughter followed. Her face turned crimson.

I will permit my fear… no… I will allow… No! I… I will permit my fear to pass over me and… and through me…?

It was fucking humiliating. She wanted everyone to go away and leave her alone. Yet in her hubris and rebellion, the attempts at being a badass only ended up attracting every kind of attention she did not want.

Pulling herself off the handle, she immediately threw open the door and hid in the girl’s bathroom. Pushing past a girl in a blue gingham sundress and a strawberry blonde side ponytail, she ran for the nearest empty stall to lock herself in. The tears could not wait until she was sure the bathroom was empty. Loud and uncontrolled sobs began to emit from her throat, the noises so awkward she did not hear the whispers of the other girls as they exited the facilities.

Fuck this day. Fuck this town. Her arm was hurting from where she hit the lockers, her pride was wounded, and Alejandra wanted out. If she could just run away now and hitchhike with the first car she saw, she would do it.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

This was not how the second senior year was supposed to go. Senior year was supposed to be the last hoorah. A happy time to start preparing for reality. For college plans. Not a time to be stuck in a small Midwestern town that felt like a foreign country. And certainly not a time to be dealing with racist, shit attitudes.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…

Dainty footsteps approached the stall as Alejandra bawled like a baby, a soft knock on the door making her freeze.

“Go away!” she cried, voice small and hoarse from the sobbing.

I will face my fear…

“… Hey it’s… It’s going to be okay…”

A soft, delicate voice answered. Not one familiar tone in that voice, the only hint to the identity of the one speaking was a pair of powder blue pumps at the opening of the bottom of the stall. Alejandra did not know the girl, nor did she want to.

“Go away…” she begged, face burning with embarrassment as she groveled like a prisoner for her freedom.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me…

“Please… Please just go away and leave me alone!”

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see that you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, cabrona… Quien te tiene?

The blue pumps hesitated, but eventually walked away. Leaving Alejandra to her sobbing.

She sat there on the toilet crying until the late bell rang, and everyone had cleared out of the bathroom to their first period class. With her glasses all smudged up from tears and snot, she took a moment to wipe them off with the hem of her dress, and eventually exited the stall with her tail between her legs.

Stopping at the sink, she began cleaning up. Alejandra took off her glasses and began washing her face with cold water. Blotting with a paper towel, she took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled, before making up her mind.

She would not be going to class today, or ever again for that matter.

Every part of her mind was made up. Now it would only be a matter of time to find an out.

The gears were turning as she put her headphones on, fast forwarding the cassette to her favorite song before sliding the orange headphones over her ears. Maybe she could walk home, steal Jaime’s ranfla to make her escape. No, probably she should walk down the road to the elementary school and steal the Aspen. Mom’s sedan was inconspicuous, and it would blend into the sea of cars on the freeway better than Jaime’s well loved blue 1972 Chevy Monte Carlo.

Besides, the Chevy was out of the question until Jaime got back from work at the Hawkins Water Utility, and she was not going to wait that long for him to come home. The elementary school was a closer walk, and as she walked out of the girls bathroom without checking if the coast was clear, she began to formulate how she was going to break into and hotwire her mom’s car (she knew how to do neither of these things, but she thought a good old college try couldn’t hurt).

As Alejandra power walked to the front entrance double doors, she heard nothing. Saw only the sweet promise of freedom. Walking quickly, unaware of the noise she was making, and drastically underprepared for the biggest shock of her life.

She felt herself being snagged by the backpack straps, her heart dropping into her ass as she was pulled to a chest.

The headphones were yanked from her ears, and a low voice with hot breath began muttering in her ear.

“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess.”

Alejandra jumped ten feet, and screamed.

“FUCK ME FREDDY!”

“ Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken. ” - Frank Herbert

[ghostly-bat]

If Im being honest with myself, I like both Damian and Nika, do I like them together? They're Queer Platonic in my eyes, really lmao

I like them both in a "I'd date either of you...or both" way. The problem with that? There are no Nika x Reader fics that I can read, so Im a bisexual thats forced to choke down just liking fics about Damian

And as much as I just love saying Damian is a cringe fail self-inserting artist, I like that about him, he's really my type. But what I would tell him? Boy, be slick with your self-inserting. Dafuq you mean you named your love interest "Nika Noir", atleast pretend she's an OC and give her a name that doesnt look similar to her real name lmaoooo

I might yap in your dms when Im feeling less shy, so.... Hehe

— 🫐 girl kisser blueberry anon

Omg! This is so cute 😭

I personally have such a maternal instinct when it comes to Damian, I'm like there goes my cringe anime loving son, look at him make OC, it's he great LOL

Even if it does feel a bit out of character I really do love seeing him just be a kid, like let him be a grumpy teenager who's embarrassed to be seen with his dad he deserves that!

And him and Nika being queer platonic is actually such a good way to put it. Like I said she gives the vibe of the type of bi girl that dates boys because they kind of look like girls 😂

[bittersweetarts]

Fanfic Recommendations ✴ by bittersweetarts (Volume I)

Fandoms: Harry Potter (Books), House of the Dragon (TV), The Bear (TV), Criminal Minds (TV)

As much as I like writing fanfiction, I love reading it even more! I enjoy a beautifully-written story as much as anyone does, and recommend the following for those looking for a wonderful read that will make you feel like you're in another world –

dirty old town – Regulus Black x OC

Author: WizardGod

Status: Complete - AO3 Page

One of my favourite stories that I have ever read.

Set during the Marauders Era, the plot follows a young woman named Finn Lynch, who lives a reserved life in rural Ireland, until her uncle, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, asks her temporarily house a war defector from a Wizarding World she is not part of.

Word Count: 286,984

Tropes: Slow Burn, Mild Enemies-to-Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family

Thy Wicked Torment – Fred Weasley x OC

Author: this_pendent_world

Status: Complete - AO3 Page

You know it's a good fanfic when the writing actually makes you feel like you're in Hogwarts, and this story is impeccable!

Set during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the story follows a young Slytherin named Evangeline Parkinson Rothchild, and the trouble she ends up finding herself in as she becomes involved with Fred Weasley, Gryffindor's resident troublemaker.

Word Count: 218,347

Tropes: Enemies-to-Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst, Found Family

Where the Gold Meets the Green – Aemond Targaryen x OC

Author: vhagarapologist

Status: WIP - AO3 Page

Well-written House of the Dragon fanfiction with romance, political intrigue and minimal Targ-cest?? Say less. This is a fairly recent-read and is still being regularly updated, but I am really enjoying it and look forward to reading new chapters when they come out.

The story follows Leona Lannister, the only surviving child of Tyland Lannister, during the Dance of the Dragons, as she navigates life in King's Landing and catches the eye of two Targaryen princes.

Current Word Count: 67,148

Tropes: Slow Burn, Enemies-to-Lovers, Angst, Toxic Relationship

The Fool and the Dragon – Aemond Targaryen x OC

Author: prince_aemond_targaryen / @prince-aemond-targaryen

Status: WIP (Almost Complete) - AO3 Page

The first Aemond Targaryen story that I adored (written before the episodes with him as an adult aired) - back when Season 1 was airing, I would re-read the chapters between the weekly episode premieres to tide me over; it's just that good.

Faune Follard, the valued lady-in-waiting of Princess Helaena Targaryen, navigates life in King's Landing whilst enduring the ire of the One-Eyed Prince.

Current Word Count: 99,899

Tropes: Slow Burn, Angst, Mild Enemies-to-Lovers, Toxic Relationship

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart – Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto x Reader

Author: justfantasy

Status: WIP - AO3 Page

Finding good Carmy fanfiction is akin to searching for water in a drought, and I do really wish there was more! This is my favourite one, but sadly there aren't many chapters and it hasn't been updated in a while.

Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto, a man of few words, has a one night stand which turns into something more.

Current Word Count: 11,345

Tropes: Friends-to-Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining

The Keeping of Words – Spencer Reid x OC

Author: BryWrites

Status: Complete First Version on Fanfiction.Net + WIP Second Version Re-Write on AO3

I read this story originally when it started being published seven years ago, and I was obsessed!

The story follows an aspiring human rights lawyer, Bianca Brown, as she is asked to assist on a BAU case and ends up finding herself intertwined with a member of the BAU, an elusive man named Dr. Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 264,402 (FFN) / 202,439 (AO3)

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Second Chances, Slow Burn

This list is not very long, but like said, these are stories that I really enjoy and feel passionate about. Evidently I prefer self-insert fanfiction, but I do read anything and everything. If you have a recommendation (for any fandom and any pairing), feel free to share in the comments!

I also write fanfiction myself, and my masterlist is linked below incase you'd like to give any story a read.

– Masterlist ✴ by bittersweetarts

Until next time, Happy Holidays!

PS. I still don't know how to respond to comments on posts (as this is a secondary blog), but I read and appreciate them all! If you ever want a direct response from me, you can private message me or send a question in my ask inbox.

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

I am answering this ask like this to prevent any potential harassment towards anyone

Don't wanna seem aggressive but idk abt the "Malleus has to marry a woman to continue the bloodline" in a fantasy magic setting or even in fanfic. Esp in a Disney game where you can wish on a star for a kid or love each other so much a Bio baby can appear. There's magic bullshittery going on too so you can make one. Also if any if the twst dudes do get a gf I don't get why people can't just pretend she doesn't exist or be poly? Maybe make a dramatic divorce fic?? Idk.

I do agree with you anon, a small minority makes everyone look bad (if I'm understanding this correctly)

Its the number one thing I hate abt the TWST Fandom or fandoms with this sort of premise in general. There's always this weird minority that ends up being the most vocal, especially as younger people are discovering Fandom but that's another story.

Usually the best thing to do to make your fandom experience the best is to block ppl you don't like and ignore stuff you don't like. It's what I do and I've been having a great time. Something something community fridge.

Glad u kinda brought this up cause I have a mini rant of my own that's related as someone who's been in fandom/fanfic for a while ll put under a read more— just noting my experiences and stuff I've noticed. I hope this doesn't come out wrong cause I worded stuff incorrectly.

This is not to attack or shame anyone. Don't be weird. Don't harrass anyone. If you don't agree that's fine. Just don't be assholes. This is just my experience as a male insert writer. This is very incoherent and all over the place l'm tired.

l esp notice this in self-ship x readers from my years of running different masc/male reader blogs. No one wins in situations like these. I have seen people ask other people online to not draw/ship their Mc with their fave because they ship their Mc with the same character and all. They get really upset and toxic over it too.

Here's some other stuff I've seen:

WIw/bisexuals/ect are made fun of for wanting fem characters and chances are these fem characters will be torn apart by some of the toxic ones in the Fandom.

People with male yuus are sometimes attacked because "they're not gay!" Or are think Yuus roles more feminine or are accused of misogyny

Female Yuus get in the way of the yaois or have to be a certain way or in the test fandom they have to be boys cause everyone at NRC is a boy.

Most x readers are Female (not afab which is different) so a lot of trans/masc ppl are left out and a lot of fem readers being tagged as x gn or x male

Male x Readers don't take off as well and chances are the author will sorta quit for that reason- it's hard to want to continue writing if no one cares abt it and it can just be in your head

Ive see a lot of F/M writers sometimes feeling like they have to apologize for writing such things.

A good chunk of x readers also end up very y/n in nature with the "weak perfect messy bun" thing and that's totally fine but a lot of the time it's not very x reader. (That being said dont be an asshole to the writer cause its not your cup of tea. Just ignore it. Community fridge.)

I personally try to make sure I make Yuu completely androgynous and give warnings about if Yuu is more muscular, has hair, is tall, ect.

It's also why I tend to write stronger-personalied Yuus or those that are taller/buffer in appearance. This doesn't make me better than people who write y/ns, shyer readers or fem readers but I have been compared and said that I write MCs 'better" when that "better" is just preference. Don't gotta tear the others down you know?

It's why l've been doing mainly gn or masc gn because I notice a lot of fem x readers tend to not include personalities that I personally prefer/imagine with my ocs and all that I see more in male x reader fics and I notice that all sorts of people want more of that

I've even gotten fem readers send asks abt it I the past on this blog abt this too

Not to mention the off aggression of Masc Aligned DNI!! For female writer inserts or Fem Alligned DNI! In very toxic or ignorant ways like Women can't like male x male cause fetishing and all that.

I do agree with your points anon, but I have seen this stuff before. I have received death threats on previous blogs for writing male and trans readers. I have had people tell me that I am misogynistic for not writing fem. This isn't even including AroAce ppl in fandom esp those who actually like smut or romance fic or those who want something besides it.

I also don't think that all women or people in general want their f/o to always be 100% available. (It prob just came off more strongly worded in the post than intended) I don't think that most would truly care aside from a "aw man", and I think that if it truly does distress someone, fandom may not be for them and they may need to take a break from it. I also don't like how us vs them it is. It's not a women issue, it's an immaturity/toxicity issue. It's just a small part of the Fandom that are the loudest and the absolute worst and you should block them and be done.

I like making spaces for masc/trans/gay/disabled readers since we're not often repped in fic, but this doesn't mean I think I'm better or that I hate fem insert writers. I follow many and they're wonderful people that are also safe spaces.

The only people I blame for harassment, are the harrassers. No one else. It's a slippery slope to rope everyone into a specific category just because of a small minority and I'm not interested in that waterside.

Idk if this is making any sense but I hope I got one point across.

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Propaganda why Bella Swan is insufferable:

She has the personality of a rock, but for some reason everyone is obsessed with her.

She spends the entirety of three books looking down on others, being completely braindead, worrying that she's old at age 18 for an entire book, has a horror movie pregnancyand birth, and then becomes the most specialist vampire to ever vampire. And through all that her personality and thought processes that she had page 1 of Twilight she has on the last page of Breaking Dawn.

Feels like low hanging fruit, but characters that are supposed to be self inserts will always be bland boring bad ideas if you want to make a truly interesting character. Especially self inserts that go along with things like stalking and abuse from their love interests for the sake of continuing the story, because it kinda makes them seem like a mannequin who just there to be passed around like the punching bag in super smash bros, you know what I mean

Propaganda why Y/N is insufferable:

I WOULD NOT FUCKING SAY THAT. they're always so bland and passive, idk how anyone could pretend to be them in the stories. and on the rare occasion someone does give them a bit of personality ITS JUST AN OC. GIVE THEM A NAME. I'd rather read about a thought out oc than a bland y/n.

They clog up the tumblr tags

They exist and that’s really upsetting

You, the reader, get to join the tournament!

I would not fucking say that

[winterstellars]

sins of the son | part iii

15,506 w (entire fic is 55,619) | aemond x nameless fem oc (can also be read as reader insert) | 6.14.24 | the first two parts can be found in full on ao3

content warning for violence in this excerpt. if reading the full fic on ao3, please be mindful of the tags!

What could you possibly kill that you love so much it would make the sun rise again?

—Succession S2E10, written by Jesse Armstrong

Harrenhal stands out from the gray-brown muck of the Riverlands like a lonely gravestone: bitter, ugly, twisted. Aemond can just barely see the broken towers and melted stone walls, the work of his ancestors, as Vhagar pierces the clouds and descends upon the castle. It is for the best that the weather has put a thick haze between them and the countryside. If it were clearer, he might be able to see the villages. The farms. Small huts where simple people live. It is best not to think of them as people, what with the orders he and Criston have. It is best not to think of them at all.

Her hands, which have been anchored to his tunic since they left the capitol, finally uncurl when Vhagar touches the ground. The tension dissipates as he helps her down from the rigging. She is a bright bloom of life against the dull backdrop of snow and steel. Soldiers cross the courtyard carrying supplies, lighting torches, draping green-and-gold banners with the three-headed dragon sigil emblazoned upon them. Nightfall is close—the clouds hide the glow that should be a sunset—and every bone in his body aches for a bed and a pile of quilts and furs.

“My prince.” Cole, though muddy from the march, is as sharp and meticulous as ever. “The castle is secure. The scouts have not seen any men within a league of here. They likely retreated when they saw our advance.”

She makes a small humming noise in the back of her throat. “They know this land better than we do.”

Cole makes no reply, but Aemond can see a small muscle by his ear go taut. He will not do any of them the disservice of pretending as though Cole would approve of her presence. To him, she represents an uncomfortable inconvenience. Neither as shameful nor as easy to overlook as one of Aegon’s whores, but still. Inconvenient. A blemish on Aemond’s honor, if such honor ever truly existed.

“My lady.” It is a generous allowance coming from Cole. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable inside.”

“I’ll stay,” she murmurs, holding Aemond’s arm, thumb stroking over the crisp leather. He can feel her gentle stability, the sureness of her presence. His wife, he thinks, his queen. 

“These are the prisoners?” He gestures to a pack of men in fetters, closely guarded. Many sport gray hair and long-healed scars from wars of the past along with fresh cuts and bruises. Others are barely old enough to swing a sword, scrawny and unsure of themselves, the same age as Luke had been—

He kills that thought in its infancy. Storm, sun, blood. It feels more like a nightmare than a memory now.

“What’s left of House Strong,” Cole replies, disdain dripping from his words. “They await the king’s justice.”

He can feel her watching him. He dares not look back. He and Cole know full well what their orders are. They know that the king’s justice knows nothing of mercy and everything of retribution.

“I’ll have the servants make up a room for us. You can rest. I’ll find you,” he tells her, but as soon as he speaks, she shakes her head. Firm, sure, unflinching. Sometimes her conviction ought to frighten him. 

“I rode to war with you,” she says. “I expected war.”

“Have you ever seen a man die?”

Her mouth moves, almost resembling a smile, but her eyes are far too steely for there to be any hint of joy. “You won’t scare me.” 

He couldn’t, he realizes, even if he tried. There are no shadows in which he can hide from her gaze. All of his rage, his grief, and his love has been laid bare in front of her, and she has not fled from him. What he must do will not change anything. She has seen him as a killer and still loves him all the same, still touches him as though his hands have never committed any sin.

The first man the guards bring forward has a mop of brown curls with spots of gray by his forehead. His doggish nose is split with a fresh break. He does not look at Aemond, but that is for the best. This man is a ghost from another world, some wretched glimpse of what Luke might have been like had he lived. A silver wedding band perches on his ring finger, and a piece of red ribbon is tied around his wrist. It is a simple thing. A little trifle. Something a child might gift a father.

Traitor, traitor, traitor, Aemond chants to himself, embedding the word into his heart. It does no good to let himself imagine what kind of person this man might be. He makes himself think of his mother, of Helaena, of Jaehaera and little Maelor. Their safety comes at a price he will always be willing to pay.

“Your name, Ser?” Criston asks for him. He is silently grateful; if he tried to speak now, he would not know what to say.

The man keeps his face lowered, shoulders hunched, all signs of fight drained out of him. “Harrold Strong.”

“You command the garrison here?”

“I do.”

Aemond draws his sword, the steel singing in the crisp winter air. He sees her standing off to the side. Her breath turns to mist as though she could breathe smoke and fire, fiercer and darker than even Vhagar. If she can be a dragon, he must be one too.

“Harrold Strong, your house has betrayed the crown and has conspired in treason against the king. In accordance with the law, your lives are forfeit. You and your men have been sentenced to the king’s justice.”

So slowly, as if he has all the time in the world, Harrold Strong looks up at him. Stares. Raises his chin.

“You the king, lad?”

Aemond ought to offer him better dying words, but when he searches inside himself, any pity has evaporated. He has his sword raised in the space of one heartbeat, and in the next, head falls away from body and blood coats the earth. Though he can see Criston’s mouth moving, there is nothing but a great, piercing silence in his head. The guards bring another man—no, not a man, a boy not even Daeron’s age—forward. The boy is crying. A pair of soldiers come for the pieces of Harrold Rivers. One drags his body off by his arms, the other scoops his head up, careful not to touch his neck. Aemond breathes in and tastes metal on the air.

It is past nightfall when they finish. His shoulders burn from the effort of it all. Blood pools along the cobblestones, draining outwards in little rivers. She is there when it is over, arms crossed, serene as a statue, the hem of her dress stained indelibly red.

read the rest on ao3

[spnfanficpond]

New Member Spotlight October 2024

The Pond is always growing and we want to make our new members feel welcome! Here’s a list of recent additions to our fishy family and a little info about them!

Turtles

Sunshine - she/her, Germany, @sunshine4537, thelionsleepstonight (AO3), sunshine4537 (Discord)

OTP? - Destiel

Other fandoms? - The Professionals (1977); BBC Sherlock

Looking for in the Pond? - Fun, interesting discussions about eps

Pairings you read? - m/m

Genres you read? - almost everything

Favorite writer(s)? - NorthernSparrow, Anrey/queerwerewolf and so many more

Cami - she/her, Argentina, @silensthings, Gwendoline (AO3), Syloephe6179 (Discord)

OTP? - Destiel

Other fandoms? - Harry Potter! but usually I read a lot and watch tv shows/series so I consider myself part of those for (the duration of the obsession) but mainly spn and Harry Potter are my favourite fandoms.

Looking for in the Pond? - I always loved to read fanfics, I read destiel since... 2012 I think! but I always did it alone, none of my friends are into this. So, It will be nice to have some people to chat, reccomend favourites, exchange opinions on fics, maybe help some writer if someone wants/need to. But that's it, nice people to chat, hopefully make some friends!

Pairings you read? - Mainly Destiel, to be honest. But I don't have a preference in other pairings, If the fic has other pairings, great, I don't really mind.

Genres you read? - Spn canon verse, angst, Au, Dark, end!verse, slow-building romance, friends to enemy to lovers, wing!fic, historical, medieval, case fic, canon fic, fake/pretend relationship. Castiel related: jealous! Protective! Possessive, creature! Trueform... etc!

Favorite writer(s)? - Seperis' (Down to Agincourt) is my absolute favourite. But I really love the works of Komodobits, Scaramouche, Whelvenwings, AlchemyAlice, MissAnnthropic, (can I say all the authors of Redemption Road?) NorthernSparrow, Cloudyjenn, Amoosebouche...Saltyfeathers, I'm sure I'm forgetting someone! These are Ao3 users.

Guppies, Jellies, and Mutuals, oh, my!

Toad - they/them, East Coast US, @toadspondofwhimsy (same on AO3 and Discord)

OTP? - Destiel

Other fandoms? - I'm not really active in other fandom spaces, but I love Bob's Burgers, Abbott Elementary, Spider-man. Other like general interests I have are, history, reading in general, psychology, nature, spiritualism, and knitting.

Looking for in the Pond? - Community & friends that can help me in posting on platforms, like how to format, tag, etc. properly. Also help me curate my 'voice', since I've mostly written academically in the past few years and put my creative writing on the back burner. How to take the source material and stay true to the characters while also making it my own. Also, just in general, community & friends!

Pairings you read? - I like reading reader inserts and pretty much any character ships (except if they're related).

Genres you read? - I love angst, fluff, and smut. My favorite tropes are enemies to lovers & "unrequited" love. I love a good slow burn.

What do you like to write? - I like to write reader inserts and OC pairings.

Masterlist!

Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? - Smut. I haven't tried because I'm not sure of a way to do that while keeping the reader gender-neutral. Also, I'm not confident in my writing skills to be able to write smut. Honestly, I'm not sure how you can help, maybe some tips on neutral language surrounding genitalia that's not like overly medical??

Kayte -she/her, Texas US, @kayteonline, reading_is_my_drug (AO3), kayteonline1208 (Discord)

Other fandoms? - Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, Interview with the Vampire (show)

Looking for in the Pond? - More mutuals and inspiration to get back into the writing game and finish these WIPs

Pairings you read? - Reader inserts, ships, poly, M/F, M/M, F/F

Genres you read? - Love angsty smut, crack smut, crack, smut, angst. Enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, and

Favorite writer(s)? - (Hopefully I don't misspell these) To name a few on Tumblr/AO3: @littlegreenplasticsoldier, @kittenofdoomage, @manawhaat

What do you like to write? - Smut, crack, smutty crack, angst, smutty angst, PWP, PW some P, enemies to lovers

Masterlist!

Most underappreciated fic? - I don't know that its underappreciated, but this was my first non-smut (I think) and first Sam-centric fic, and I really love how this came together like an episode from the show: Shifting Perspectives And this fun little series I put together in my first attempt at all crack/smut: Strange Magic

Danni - she/her, Indiana US, @castielspahdehrah, same name on AO3

Other fandoms? - Criminal Minds, Markiplier, and K-pop; specifically BTS, GOT7, and Monsta X/Wonho

Looking for in the Pond? - This is why I had some trouble picking if I should be a "guppie" or "jellyfish". I have the writing experience and "seniority" on Tumblr since I started back in 2014, but I've also had a very long hiatus. I need to reconnect with folks to help me immerse myself back into the fandom and get comfortable. I would also greatly appreciate finding people to bounce ideas off of and maybe even beta read for/have them beta read for me. I guess I just need to find my place again, now that I'm back "home" and I can't think of a better way than jumping into the Pond :)

Pairings you read? - Strictly reader inserts for me, but I won't yuck anyone else's yum either. Whatever makes their little hearts happy, makes me happy

Genres you read? - All of the above, really. I am a sucker for a good old "tear your heart out" angst though. Enemies to lovers is always a surefire hit with me too. The tension makes for great writing, I think.

Favorite writer(s)? - Oh my...not only would this list be endless, but I think a lot of them have moved on from Tumblr over the years. Lemme see if I can think of any....@kittenofdoomage, @kaz2y5-imagines, @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog, @willowing-love, @supernaturalfreewill, @abaddonwithyall, @littlegreenplasticsoldier, @mrswhozeewhatsis, man...there were so many. I mainly know them from Tumblr, but I know @kittenofdoomage has an AO3 also.

What do you like to write? - Honestly, I like to write a little of everything, but I've been told my smut and angst are my best genres and I'm, apparently, really good at conveying Dean and Gabriel's personalities like they were on the show. I'm also a "terrible person" because of my cliffhangers! LOL! :)

Masterlist!

Most underappreciated fic? - I'm Going Home and Rite of Ascension

Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? - I don't think there's a genre/trope/topic I've not tried yet, but I could be wrong. More than anything I would just like to finish the ones that I left hanging during my hiatus. A couple will, hopefully, just require me to rewatch certain seasons/episodes to remember canon events that I was branching off of.

Tika - she/her, US, @artificial-sleep, same name on AO3 and Discord

OTP? - Wincest

Other fandoms? - Previously MHA

Looking for in the Pond? - Somewhere to share writing, build community, and hang out/help other writers

Pairings you read? - I like ship fics and the occasional poly fic

Genres you read? - Everything I read and write contains smut, but I also like a little angst, fluff, crack, + on the side.

What do you like to write? - Smut fics! But smut with feelings, smut with some plot, angsty smut, and getting-together fics

Masterlist!

Most underappreciated fic? - I'm Your Daddy

Alexis - they/them, California US, @queer-dancing-fandom-nerd, BunheadKitKat19 (AO3), DuckChips19 (Discord)

OTP? - Destiel

Other fandoms? - Not actively a part of anything else, though I have written Doctor Who stuff

Looking for in the Pond? - More SPN community + exploring all the amazing relationships in the show and fandom

Pairings you read? - Mostly destiel and TFW family/extended family

Genres you read? - Fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, crack, angst, as long as there’s a happy ending! I like canon-divergent, canon-compliant, post-canon, and human AUs

What do you like to write? - Mostly canon-verse fics with some healing aspect

Masterlist!

Most underappreciated fic? - Teach me how to fly?

Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? -Slash smut, I need a penis consultant :( Also, I have not done human AU before and I have an idea but would probably need some advice for adjusting the characters into a non-supernatural setting.

Mörökölli - they/them, UTC+3 time zone, @morokollisyo, Morokolli (AO3), morokollisyo (Discord & LiveJournal)

OTP? - I multiship and I am curious to different combos. So, no preferences.

Other fandoms? - none others atm (B5 very long, long time ago)

Looking for in the Pond? - I want to network with other writers. I know a lot about writing (if I say I've been writing for 40 years of my life, that's pretty close to right), but I'm actually avoiding it myself at the moment in fandom, and I want to focus more on making art - preferably so I can illustrate other people's fiction. Oh, and reading good fic. But I really do have a lot of knowledge about writing, long novel projects and short flash fictions, and I'm happy to share that knowledge with others.

Something to signal boost? - I like to describe other people's stories in a different way than just through bangs. I believe that more contacts can be made this way.

Pairings you read? - Sam/Dean, Sam/Others, Dean/Others

Genres you read? - Angst, crack. Tropes: time travel, enemies to lovers, Demon!Dean, Powers!Sam

Favorite writer(s)? - Glasslogic and Zubeneschamali

Masterlist!

Most underappreciated fic? - I still think it's funny myself, and it's Jody drooling over Sam. But no one can find this! The Winchesters Are Not Okay

Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? - I'm a non-native and writing fiction in English is a lot of work for me, so I'm afraid to write long stories. But I'm trying to write a story based on mythology, where Sam and Dean have been living apart. It would be great if there was a bang to speed things up.

That's all for this month, folks! (If we're missing anyone, let us know and we'll add them to next month's list!) Make sure to say hi to the newbies and make them feel welcome! Thanks to all from @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @heavenssexiestangel, and @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes!

[justagalwhowrites]

Someone New: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Joel is new to Jackson and his family is eager to play matchmaker.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author paid to PCRF upon completion. Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Ashley (NOT a reader insert)

Warnings: Smut :D Unprotected P in V sex. Daddy kink. Age gap (Joel is 56, Ashley is 40.) Light Dom!Joel and Sub!FOC. No use of Y/N. 18+ Only MINORS DNI

Length: 3.6k

For You Masterlist | Full Masterlist | AO3

A/N: Written as a request by the lovely @ashleyfilm! She requested "Jackson era Joel from the tv show, so Pedro, and me (Ashley, plus size, I’m 40, I have black hair and glasses, my eyes are blue green with some hazel, I have tattoos, I’m short. A little goth, wear all black where it’s possible in an apocalypse haha) in this scenario I have a cool exterior and I’m independent by nature, but when you get to know me I’m funny and loving, but keep to myself. Joel and I would both like each other but have no clue, while Tommy, Maria and Ellie would all know and roll their eyes at us, try and talk sense into us. Eventually we come together and I’d love some smut. Some daddy soft dom Joel, I’m sub, the only time I want to be told what to do is during sex. I like giving pussies a pronoun so like she likes it and her if you know what I mean. And some fluff would be nice too." Shared with permission. I hope you all enjoy!!

Tommy was starting to drive Joel insane. 

It had taken some adjustment, coming to Jackson. 

There was the adjustment of being back around other people at all, for starters. There was the adjustment to being a father again. There was the adjustment of being in a place he cared about, one where he wanted to contribute instead of forced to to keep FEDRA’s boot off his neck. 

It had been a lot to swallow and, not that anyone was asking, he thought he’d done a damn good job of it. Ellie was happy, going to school every day and making friends. He had his ways to play his part in the community. 

So what if he was doing it all on his own? It’s not like it’s a crime to keep to yourself, he wasn’t sure why Tommy kept trying to push him further than he wanted to go. 

He doubted it was because Ashley was asking him to.

Ashley, the woman Tommy kept damn near throwing him toward at every opportunity. Ashley, who was years too young for him to even be thinking about the way he did. Ashley, whose plush curves and bright eyes had caught his attention from the moment he met her, even as she kept her distance from Joel and, it seemed, just about everyone else in Jackson. 

It didn’t matter how much Joel would enjoy things being different, that the little time he’d spent with her had been some of his favorite since coming here. She wasn’t interested - couldn’t be interested - and he wasn’t about to force it. 

Tommy, it seemed, had other ideas. 

“I’m not sure why you won’t just see if she wants to go,” Tommy said one night as they sat in the mess hall for dinner. “What’s the harm?” 

“Don’t particularly feel like gettin’ shot down,” Joel replied, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes. “Got enough goin’ on without worrying about that, too.” 

“Worrying about what?” Maria asked, taking her spot next to Tommy. Joel resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing he was about to be outnumbered. 

“Joel won’t ask Ashley to the dance on Saturday,” Tommy smirked a little. “He’s convinced she’d say no…” 

“Who would say no to what?” Ellie joined them, too, sitting next to Joel. 

“Ashley to Joel and the dance, apparently,” Maria said, giving Ellie a knowing look. 

“Oh shit,” Ellie’s eyes went a little wide. “They’d be so cute together, Joel pretending to be a person who actually does something besides be grumpy…” 

“OK you tryin’ to get yourself grounded?” Joel asked, brows raised. Ellie rolled her eyes. “Because it sure seems like it. And I don’t need y’all match making for me. I am doin’ just fine without worrying about all of that. Leave it.” 

Ellie and Maria gave each other a knowing look that Joel was about to call them on when Tommy distracted him. 

“You’re going to the dance Saturday anyway, right?” He asked. “Just because you’re too chicken shit to bring a date doesn’t mean you should sit it out. It’s a big party, the whole town will be there, you should at least come by for a few drinks. You’ll miss out if you don’t.” 

“Yeah, I want to go!” Ellie said, turning to Joel and pouting a little. “You’re really going to make me go all by myself?” 

“I’ll go to the dance,” Joel sighed before looking between the others and gesturing between them with the fork. “S’long as you three are done meddling.” 

“We’ll behave,” Ellie smirked a little. “I promise.” 

Joel shouldn’t have believed them. He should have known better. 

But that didn’t make him any less surprised when he showed up to the dance Saturday evening and looked for Tommy and Maria, only to find them sitting with Ashley, her dark hair styled to pair with the black dress that seemed like it was made to highlight her every soft curve, curves that Joel had spent hours dreaming about exploring with his hands and mouth. 

He was going to strangle Tommy. 

“Joel!” His brother called, waving him over, as if Joel would have missed him. “Over here!” 

“C’mon old man,” Ellie teased. “Stop being such a fucking coward.” 

“We’re talking about your language later,” he muttered, letting Ellie lead him to the table, hoping that no one had put too much pressure on Ashley to put her in this position. 

“Well look who decided to join the party,” Tommy smirked. Joel ground his teeth. “Ashley, you know my brother Joel.” 

“I do,” she gave him a cool, tight smile and took a sip of her drink, looking back out toward the dance floor. 

“Hi,” Joel said before feeling like a bit of an idiot and pulling his eyes from her to turn back to his brother. “How are you Tommy, Maria?” 

“Oh, we’re good,” Maria smiled a little, looking more like Tommy than Joel thought was appropriate. He wondered if married couples started looking alike before too long. 

“Just peachy,” Tommy said as a new song started. “Oh would you look at that, I need to dance with my wife. Maria?” 

He offered her his hand and she smiled wider before taking it, giving Joel a meaningful look before being led onto the dance floor by her husband. 

“Oh, I think I see Dina,” Ellie said before clapping Joel on the back and leaving him there, alone with Ashley, before he had the chance to argue. 

Joel just stood there, awkwardly, trying not to stare at her, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. 

“So,” he said eventually. “Um… that seat taken?” 

She looked at him, brows raised. 

“Just by your brother.” 

“Right,” he said, taking it anyway. She looked back toward the dance floor and Joel looked her over while he had the chance, how the darkness of her clothes seemed to suit her, the sharp intelligence behind her glasses, the beauty of the tattoos he could see on her exposed skin. He wondered what each of them meant, wondered what it would be like to take his time tracing over each one. 

“So,” she turned her attention back to Joel. “Liking Jackson so far? Been here… what, a few months now?” 

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “S’good. Different than where I’ve been for a while but that’s a good thing. Ellie likes it, all that really matters.” 

She nodded slowly, taking another sip of her drink. 

“Seems like she’s a good kid,” she said. “Sure got a mouth on her, though.” 

“Yeah,” Joel laughed, leaning his elbows onto the table. “She’s somethin’ else. I tried telling her she needs to watch her language, this ain’t the QZ.” 

“That’s a hell of an adjustment,” she smiled a little and damn, Joel really liked to see her smile. More than he’d liked seeing a woman smile in… he wasn’t sure how long. “Trust me, I know.” 

“You spent some time in a QZ?” He asked, brows raised. 

She nodded, taking a final sip of her cocktail. 

“Portland,” she said. “I was there at the beginning. One night, I was sneaking liquor at industry night at my favorite club, the next it’s a war zone. Got used to it after a while, though. You were in Boston with Tommy, right?” 

“I was,” Joel nodded. “Took us a while to work our way there but found it eventually.” 

“And you both ended up all the way out here.” 

“Suppose so,” Joel said. He nodded to her empty glass. “Can I get you another?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “That’d be nice.” 

He went to the bar and got them both a drink before rejoining her at the table. 

Joel was surprised at how much he liked talking with her. For how much time he’d spent thinking about her and looking at her, he hadn’t spent much time actually talking with her. She wasn’t what he’d expected. 

Where he’d always known her to be a bit distant and cool, he was starting to realize that, as soon as he was past the caution she seemed to approach the world with, she was really very warm and loving, thoughtful and kind. They talked about music, about what they missed about before, the quirks of life in Jackson after living in a QZ. 

By the time Joel got her onto the dance floor, he was ready to get her home. And he was starting to think she wanted the same. 

“Can I walk you home?” Joel asked as the Tipsy Bison was almost empty and he wasn’t able to come up with any more excuses to stay. 

“You can,” she smiled. “But… I think I’d rather you walk me to yours.” 

He smiled back. 

“Think that can be arranged.” 

Joel draped his arm over her shoulders and the two of them walked slowly through the dark town, the streets quiet and the stars bright. 

“Well,” Joel said as they came to his front walk. “This is me. Still want to come in?” 

“Yeah,” Ashley nodded. “Yeah, I really do.” 

He smiled. 

“Good.” 

He took her hand and led her to his door. 

But things shifted as they made it inside. Joel tilted her face up, finding the right angle, thumb brushing her lips, waiting for her to make a move. 

But she didn’t. Her breaths got quicker, her eyes searched his and, after a moment, he felt like he couldn’t wait anymore. 

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he said. “Because it’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about doing for a while.” 

She just nodded quickly and he kissed her, covering her mouth with his. 

It had been a while since Joel had kissed anyone, even longer since it was a first kiss. But Joel could tell this was different, something special. It was like an electric current ran over his skin, sparking at where your lips met and shooting out through the rest of him. There was a sharp, sudden pang of need deep inside him, the drive to be closer to her, as close as he could reach. More than that, he wanted to know that she was safe, cared for. That she had what she needed and what she wanted because he was giving it to her. 

“Joel,” she breathed as they separated, just enough for him to look in those blue green eyes of hers. “Will you take me to bed?” 

“Yeah baby,” he said, want seeping into his voice. “Yeah, I will.” 

He kissed her again, his hands sliding down from her face to her arms to her waist, moving her toward the stairs as he did. He only pulled away from her when they needed to go up to his room, not wanting to stop touching her for even a few moments, his skin almost aching as he watched the round shape of her ass in her black skirt going upstairs ahead of him. 

Joel pulled her back against him at the top of the stairs, the few seconds she was apart from him too much. Her arms stretched up and went around his neck and his hands roamed over her back and sides, luxuriating in just how soft she felt, how he could find places on her that seemed made for him to hold. He guided her to his room, kicking the door shut behind him. He slid his hands back up her body over her arms, his callused fingers slipping over her soft skin. 

“You gonna let me make you feel good, pretty girl?” He asked, voice dark and low. “Because I want to touch every damn inch of you.” 

“Please, Joel,” she whispered, her fingers tightening desperately on his curls at the nape of his neck. “Please, I want you, I need you, I…” 

“Shhh,” he hushed her. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just let Daddy take care of you.” 

He kissed her again and found the zipper on her dress, sliding it down, down, down, until he could slide the straps down her arms and let the fabric fall to the floor. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes ranging over Ashley’s body, tracing over her curves and tattoos. “You are the most beautiful damn thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He reached around and unhooked her bra, sliding the straps down her arms and dropping it to the floor before cupping her breasts, the fullness of her so soft below his touch that he couldn’t help but groan. 

“You gonna let me take care of you, baby girl?” He asked, voice husky. “You need me to take care of you, don’t you?” 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he said it but something inside him just knew, he could sense it in her. That she wanted someone to guide her, someone she could trust to take charge and give her what she needed.

He could tell by the way she nodded that he was right. 

Joel guided her down onto the bed before pulling his shirt and casting it aside. His eyes ranged over her body as he took his jeans and underwear off, too, his cock already thick and achingly hard. He worked himself, not able to stop himself as he drank her in, memorizing her. 

“Want you to touch yourself for me,” he said, stepping closer to the bed. “Spread those pretty legs, put your hand in your panties, show me how you like to touch yourself.” 

She took a hesitant, shaky breath and slid her hand down her body before slipping them below the fabric, stretching it tight over her pussy for a moment before her hand dipped lower. He could see the outline of her fingers clearly, watched with his mouth watering as they stroked her pussy lips before slipping inside. 

“There you go, baby girl,” he groaned, stroking his cock in time with her fingers. “You just keep on doin’ that for me.” 

He moved to the bed and she frowned as he reached out, looping his fingers around the waistband of her panties to start tugging them down. His eyes moved from her face, down her body to where her pussy lay just below the fabric. Her fingers were still. 

“I tell you to stop?” He asked. She groaned and he saw her fingers start to move again. “That’s my good girl. Want your pussy all nice and wet and full when I see her the first time.” 

He pulled her underwear down slowly, revealing her wet slit with two of her fingers buried deep inside herself as he did.

“Oh, there she is,” he breathed, casting her panties aside. “Fuck, such a pretty little pussy ain’t she?” 

Ashley just moaned, thrusting her fingers deeper. Joel licked his lips, desperate for a taste of her. 

“Spread her open for me, baby,” he said, spreading her legs wide and settling between them. “Lemme see.” 

Her hands trembled as she slid her fingers from her dripping entrance and delicately opened herself to him. 

“Fuck me,” Joel groaned, taking a thumb and brushing it over her tight little hole before trailing it up to her swollen nub. “Gonna take a lot before she can take me. Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

He pressed his mouth to her entrance, just a kiss at first, a taste of her musky sweetness. His thumb stayed against her clit, rubbing her in slow and gentle circles as he dipped is tongue inside of her. 

Joel started slow, easing her into it. His tongue worked deeper, his thumb harder. Eventually, he added a finger, then two, starting to stretch her open as her hips canted up against his face, her legs squirming, delicious moans and gasps pouring from her lips. He looped an arm around her thigh to hold her still, pulling her leg against the side of his head and leaving his nose to work her clit as his hand splayed wide on her plush thigh. 

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” her back was arched, fingers wound tight in his quilt. “I’m coming, I’m coming Daddy, I’m coming!” 

He smiled against her as he ate her through her orgasm, pressing his aching cock down into the bed as he felt her pussy flutter over his tongue. 

When her climax eased, he pulled himself from her tight, wet heat and rose to his knees, stroking his dripping length as she came back down to earth. He nudged her legs apart and down, leaving her fully exposed to him. He ran his fingers over her slit, gathering her wetness and bringing it to his cock as she looked at him, her eyes a little wide. 

“Is…” she swallowed, hard. “Is that going to fit inside me? I don’t know if that’s going to fit…” 

“It’ll fit, baby girl,” he said, working himself as he lined himself up with her entrance. “You can take it, so nice and wet for me. You just relax and let me inside you.” 

He pressed his cock against her tight center, moaning and just how hot and wet and fucking soft she felt. He watched, almost obsessed, as she opened to take him, the stretch almost obscene as he saw himself start to disappear into her body. 

“See baby?” He panted as he sank just the first few inches of him into her cunt. “You can take it, taking it so good for me. She stretches so fuckin’ pretty for me, so goddamn pretty.” 

Her hands flew to his biceps as he leaned over her, pressing himself deeper, her fingers scrambling over his muscle as he worked her open. Joel fought to think of anything but the fact that he was almost fully inside the woman he’d been longing for for weeks now. He couldn’t come too quick, he couldn’t let this end now. He had to take his time, had to feel her come around him. 

And then he was buried inside her to the root, the entirety of him in the entirety of her, her walls stretching to hold him. 

“There you go,” he praised her. He splayed his hand wide over her thick, soft lower stomach, pressing into her skin as his thumb slid down to her clit and started stroking it. “Did so good, taking me so well. You ever been this stretched baby?” 

“No daddy,” her nails dug into his arm. “Feels so good…” 

“Good girl,” he said, working her clit a little harder. She moaned and rocked her hips against him. “Aw, does someone need to be fucked? Someone need me to make her come?” 

“Yes,” she pleaded. “Please, please, please Daddy, please, I need to come, I need…” 

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, leaning over her and kissing her deeply, the taste of her mouth mixing with the taste of her pussy that lingered on his tongue. “Gonna make you come so hard for me.” 

He pulled back before thrusting forward, hard and fast and making her gasp, her hands flying from his arms to his back. But he stopped her, taking hold of her arms and pinning them over her head with one of his large hands. 

“You can use those when I tell you,” he said. “Right now, need you focused on taking,” he pulled back and thrust back in quickly. “This.” He did it again, fucking into her hard and fast. “Cock.” He did it one last time before grinding himself deep. “Tell me when you’re about to come.” 

He picked up his pace then, fucking into her deep and firm, grinding his hips down against her clit, feeling how her breasts moved against him as he forced her walls apart with each heavy stroke. 

Joel didn’t let up, too lost in her and just how damn good she felt to do anything else. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been fucking her - just that it wasn’t long enough - when her breathy, desperate voice broke through the lust-driven haze of his mind. 

“I’m gonna come,” she keened, her pussy to tight around him that it almost hurt. “Gonna come, I’m gonna come Daddy, please…” 

He freed her hands then and she gasped, her fingers immediately finding the broad expanse of his back. Joel took her face in his hands and looked into those eyes of hers, unlike anything else he’d ever seen as he felt how her body took his. 

“Good girl,” he said, breathless and needy, too. “Come for me, come all over my cock, that’s it, so good for me…” 

The chorus of praise continued until she cried out, her whole body seizing as her channel gripped him so tight he was almost afraid it would force him out. But he held himself deep inside her, kissing her as she moaned into his mouth as she throbbed around him. His orgasm took hold, amazed for the half second he was aware enough to think that he’d been able to hold off this long, emptying himself deep inside of her. 

“Fuck,” she moaned, panting for breath as they both came down from their shared high. Joel had all but collapsed on top of her and he adjusted, pulling himself gently from her body and feeling their combined spend leaking from her as he did. He lay beside her and she turned to look at him. “That… I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that.” 

He smiled a little. 

“Me either.” 

She smiled back. 

“I think we’ll have to do that again sometime,” she said. 

“Only if you let me take you out first,” Joel said. “Don’t think I can get enough of you in bed. Think I’m gonna need as much as you’ll let me have outside it, too.” 

Ashley reached out and carded her fingers through his thick, shaggy curls. 

“I think we can make that work.” 

[tams-writeblr]

Love in a hopeless Place 26

Synopsis: She was barely grown up, when she stepped into the bar that was the center of Zaun's resistance. The people she met there would forever change her life, and one of them especially. Silco x reader/OC; first-person POV; overall rating: E for Explicit; canon-compliant (though I might make a stretch on the timeline here and there to make things fit my symbolism); age gap! (younger female, older male); 9 chapters; 45k; cis female reader/POV; no beta-reader; completed Chapter ratings/warnings: G for General, no swearing just boring business stuff Wordcount: <1k Author's note: Listen, I'm an accountant myself, and this is a self insert so yeah, we need some boring business talking, okay? It's about the subtext, guys! Comments would be appreciated!

Today's music recommendation: Selena Gomez - Back to you

<- previous | next ->

Act III

Chapter I

Part 4/7

At 11 AM straight the next morning, I opened the door to Vander's realm without knocking.

Silco stood in front of the large window, eyes fixed on the lane below him.

I threw the books on his desk. "My last year's work. I don't think you need me to explain everything to you."

He turned to me over his left shoulder, so that I could only see his gleaming, deformed eye. "I want to hear it from your mouth. Why would I pay you otherwise?"

I sighed and took a seat in the chair on the side of Vander's desk. "The earnings have been mostly stable over the last twelve months. Actually, over all the years that I've worked here. It's enough to pay the two full-time workers and two to four aides, as well as me, and an average salary for the keeper. How many aides we have depends on the season. Summer and deep winter are our best months. Spring is the lowest because of the bad weather. But we have around 75 percent regular customers, so the fluctuation isn't that high. The aides only work on the weekends and if we're booked for a special event, like a birthday or stuff."

Silco didn't interrupt me once while I talked about finances some more, he only sat across from me and looked carefully as I showed him our numbers. Sometimes our glances shortly met, but there was no expression in his eyes.

"You've been doing a decent job here," he remarked as I ended my report. "I want you to continue like this. You'll manage the recruitment of workers from now on. And do something about that down in spring; we can't afford that. Ensure that the regulars keep coming, we can't risk losing those. Pretend that nothing has changed. That head-bartender - Kev - I don't like him, but he seems to do a decent job. And Mimi, she's basically part of the furniture. I want you to do everything so that they continue their work. People are used to them."

"I'm afraid we'd have to hire a new bartender anyway," I pointed out. "Vander did a huge chunk of work around the bar. To operate as before, we need another pair of hands."

Silco sucked his teeth, and I saw his brain working behind his facade. "That would leave the bar with little to no profit."

I agreed. "But I don't think you will stand behind the bar every day of the week."

"Of course not. Despite, I'm not the person, people want to see here. What are you suggesting, accountant?"

I bit the inner of my cheek, quickly weighting the possibilities. "For now, I could let the aides work under the week too. They'd earn a little more than now, but not as much as an additional member. I could ask Kev to work six days a week instead of five, for compensation, of course. And if we're still short on the Saturdays... I could hire another aide. That'd still be cheaper as one full-time power."

"No," Silco decided. "No new aide yet. You can hire new people, should the numbers go up. When we're short on staff, you and Sevika will help out."

"Sevika?", I questioned, high-pitched. "I'm pretty sure she's not who people want to see here, either."

"She can do stuff behind the scenes. Like warehouse work. And she can handle bar fights. That's her specialty, to be fair."

I leaned back into my chair and crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for further instructions or questions.

He mimicked part of my gesture, but gently tapped the tips of his fingers together.

There was a moment of silence between us, as we just looked at each other.

"You don't complain about helping out, yourself?", he asked after a while.

I shrugged. "Been there, done that. When times were desperate, I did help in the past too. Not a great server, but I make a sick Long Island iced tea, if I may say so."

An actual smile crept on his face. "Hear, hear. I guess I got to try this sometime."

I batted my eyes, ignoring the warmth in my face. "Was that everything?"

Silco's elbow came on the desk, and he placed his chin on his palm. "When can we reopen?"

I shrugged as I got off the chair. "If Sevika hadn't been "Not that hard" to my staff, we'd be ready tonight. But unfortunately, Kev has a fracture in two fingers and Mini a black eye. The one aide can't stop crying. Give me a week, I take care that they're fine by then."

Silco clicked his tongue. "Fine, one week. But I want this bar open next Friday."

I nodded, neatly putting the chair back in its place. As I took my books up, he stopped me with a swift movement.

"One last thing."

I looked into his face, careful to leave a stoic expression.

"Do you still live in that dump?"

I was confused. Why would he ask that? That had nothing to do with our work. I still nodded. "Yes, and?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to know."

I went to leave, but as I opened the door, I gave him a second look. "The Landlord has remodeled the bathroom, by the way. We now have showers. And enough hot water for everyone." I didn't know why I gave him those details. Maybe to fuel his visualization.

[duncans-idahoe]

Jean x Childhood Friend! Reader pt. 2

She/her pronouns are used for the reader, no description beyond that but she is based on a self-insert oc I want to use for a fic I may or may not write

Pt. 1

The night before Jean leaves for the cadets  he spends it with the reader camped out on the roof of her house as they had as children

The longest they had ever spent apart was the week she had gotten a bad case of the flu, and even then Jean would sneak up to her window to cheer her up with embellished stories of his day or their favorite treats if he could manage to grab them from her parents bakery

But the next day Jean would be leaving Trost and they wouldn’t see each other until he graduated… in 3 years

She had tried to stay strong through the day, tried to joke with Jean and their families as they helped him prepare for his departure, and pretended like things were normal and everything wasn’t about to change

But now, underneath the clear night skies with nothing but the stars watching, she allowed herself to cry into Jean's neck as he sat and held her against him

She didn’t say anything when she felt his tears drop into her hair, he wouldn’t have wanted her to, he always wanted to be the strong one but that didn’t stop her from holding him tighter

“You don’t have to go, Jean, we can figure it out!”

It was the same thing she’d been saying since he’d announced he’d be joining the military, he was aggravated that she was still pushing the topic, but wasn’t surprised, she was almost as bull-headed as he is

“I’ve already signed up, if I don’t go I’ll be considered AWOL. You don’t want me looking bad on my first day do you?”

She let out a small chuckle at his attempt at humor and nuzzles her head against his

Jean kisses the top of her head before nuzzling her back

They’d always been close, but this was new

Lingering gazes and Jean's blushing cheeks have turned to clutched hands and light pecks on the cheek

It was a natural progression, one that anyone but them could’ve seen coming

And Jeans leaving had been the catalyst

At first, she had just been angry that he would risk his life just for a chance at the MPs, “Not everyone even makes it through Cadet training!” She had spit at him “And even if they do only the top 10 get to go to the military police, Jean! It’s not worth the risk!”

“I’m not everyone! I thought if anyone would have faith in me doing this it would be you but you’ve second-guessed me every step of the way.”

“I can't lose you, Jean!”

Finally, she succumbed to her fears and grief

Sure they both had other friends and siblings, they wouldn’t be alone in the world without each other, but they would certainly be missing a piece of themselves

If they were close before, they simply didn’t let each other go after

So now they sat side by side beneath the vastness of the night sky, wrapped in each other's arms, hoping that dawn would never come

“Just, don’t forget to write to me, okay?”

The cadets weren’t allowed to return home during their training, but they could send letters to loved ones that would be sent through the supply wagons that arrived at the training camp every week

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[aarcanechaoss]

I had a terribly funny Bleach thought / idea

And for the purpose of this idea we’re just gonna pretend Kaoru is my only bleach OC

We know at least in the Serireitei they have computers and of course there’s the phones and shit they use to track hollows etc.

So we’re going to assume they’ll eventually decide to keep up with human technology while still using shit they know.

Anyway yeah computers exist and now soul smart phones that’s the gist.

But I’m not done

Someone, some young soul reaper’s perhaps, even some random people they’ve met all around Soul Society heard about a fun little thing that humans do called Fanfiction… and decided to give it a go

About the Soul Reapers they know of- Captain’s Lieutenant’s etc.

Eventually others find it, some think it’s weird and others dive right in too….

Eventually the poor Captains, Lieutenants + some find out.

MENTIONS SMUT

Scene

Kaoru is sitting in Zaraki’s office with Yumichika and Ikkaku just figuring out their new phones and making sure they all know how it works (let’s be real Yumichika and Kaoru already know but they’re helping Ikkaku and Kenny out) and lets say Yachiru is off on one of her adventures.

Yumichika, the poor man, screams and goes rather pale.

“What the hell is this!” Followed by “My eyes are burning.”

“What’s gotten into you?” The Captain grunts.

“Yeah what’s wrong with you?” Follows Ikkaku.

Kaoru however pries the device from his hands to see a page called “Fanfiction Society.” She frowns and scrolls down the page.

“Oh.” Her hand covers her mouth as she reads on. “…what did you even search for find this?”

“My name.” He says dramatically.

“And you somehow found a ten-k word story about you and-”

“Don’t say it out loud.” Yumichika gags. “I’d never do such depraved things with a brute like him.”

“So you read enough to know how … oh … would that position even work with two guys?”

“What the fuck are you reading?” Ikkaku looks appalled.

“Something called Fanfiction.” She taps away at the search on her own phone while throwing Yumichika’s back- said man was still gagging. “Fanfiction… stories written about people, fictional or real some include reader inserts and others original characters… poor Yumi here just found one about you two.”

Kaoru was trying so hard to keep it together as Ikkaku’s eyes bulged.

“I would never.”

“Oh look someone wrote something cute about your friendship aw.” She says now scrolling through the site. “It’s called Cross my heart- the third and fifth seats of squad eleven have known each other a long time… but just how did they meet let’s write our own story.”

Zaraki looked both incredibly pissed off, bored and amused all at once. How? She couldn’t tell you.

“Why the hell would anyone write that?” Yumichika pouted.

“I dunno- oh hey look there’s a whole tag on the Captains…. Oh even creepazoid Mayuri has some gross.”

“Why are you still looking!” Ikkaku exclaimed.

“Curious.” She shrugs before a snort rips from her. “Damn they got me too.”

“Oh this’ll be good.” Yunichika’s gagging seemed to have stopped at least.

She scrolls further, electing to not say mention the number of threesomes she’d just scrolled by not only with Ikkaku and Yumichika but apparently whoever was writing these - howlingforakiyama was the name she saw the most- decided she needs to be sandwiched between Captain’s Kyoraku and Ukitake…. Or have her legs over Captain Kyoraku’s shoulders…and have her head between Soifon’s thighs… another with Yumichika and even more Shunsui Kyoraku x Kaoru Akiyama (she did not want to know what dual wielder sword play meant).

A moment later and she choked, dropping her phone into her lap as a snort ripped from her.

“What is it now woman?”

“It would never work.” She said between wheezes, shoulders shaking as her arms wrapped around her belly.

It was Yumichika’s turn to glance at her phone though warily before he also burst out laughing.

“Woman.” The Captain grunted.

“Captain you’re a joy but I- hahah- I would never.” She choked the words out through her full body laughter. “I’d never sleep with you I- HahahHA.”

“The fuck does that mean?” He growled out more confused than annoyed.

“You’d fucking impale me.” She takes in a ragged breath.

The man blinks- and she thinks this is the first time she’s ever seen him look so… confusingly normal.

“Impale?” Ikkaku looks flabbergasted.

“I am five-foot-three and he is six-foot-six.” She sucks in a breath. “I’d die.”

“Oh my… there’s quite a few of you with each of us and more with Captain Kyoraku.”

She snorts again. “Please don’t click on the dual wielder sword play tag I don’t want to know what that means.”

Somewhere across the Seireitei.

Shunsui sneezes. “Man a beautiful woman must be thinking about me.” He says before scrolling his phone and thoroughly enjoying his new reads.