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

[sarcastic-nebula]

febuwhump day 1: vocal chords

a/n: yes hello, I am attempting febuwhump! I may come back and edit these in a few months, but I hope you enjoy these first drafts of whatever I end up posting :)

Snowflakes fell heavily on growing snow-piles along the road to Hobbiton. Heather Brandybuck had hoped she would avoid the snowfall, but weather this time of year was unpredictable at best and surprising at worst. She was glad that she had brought her heaviest traveling cloak and fur-lined boots, however, she wished she had remembered her scarf and best winter hat. She trudged on.

The city limits were not too far away, and Heather would make it to her cousin's, Bilbo Baggins', smial within the day. She smiled at the thought of seeing Bilbo, and seeing how young Frodo was settling in with him. Heather also greatly looked forward to a warm house and a meal. The inns she had been staying at along her journey from Brandy Hall had been passable, but she longed for a proper home.

Heather paused her trudging, and looked around. Naked, wet trees popped up along the path and beyond posts fencing the road, and there wasn't another hobbit in sight. She was within the town limits now, and the snow on the road had been swept away by wheels and pony-traffic, leaving freezing mud and dirty snow-piles instead. She continued on.

It was past noon when Bag End came into view. Warm light poured out from the windows, and smoke puffed up through the chimney, disrupting the cloudy, wet-cold canvas of the surroundings. Heather huffed a smile, and ran her mittened hands along her face and arms to attempt some warmth. Her nose had started running, so she wiped that away with a hand-kerchief, and brushed away accumulating snow on her person. Heather was almost there!

In her excitement, she quickened her pace. Heather carefully made her way uphill along the hobbit-holes, and through the gate that signaled the start of Bilbo's property. She was so giddy, for warmth and family, that she didn't notice a slippery patch of ice on the stone steps leading up to Bilbo's front door. Her foot slid against the ice, and with a shout, she toppled backward into a bunch of snow off to the side of the steps.

Heather started shivering immediately. The snow soaked through her already-cold clothes and her boots could no longer keep out cool moisture. She urged herself up into a sitting position, when the front door to Bag End opened.

"Heather!" A jolly voice said, and then; "Oh dear me," followed by the sound of pattering footsteps inside.

Heather got herself to standing, still shaking, and continued up the steps more carefully. Bible met her half way, a blanket around his shoulders that he opened up to bring Heather into.

"Come in now, I've got you."

Once the door closed and Heather's outer layers and boots removed, Bilbo brought her in for a proper hug. "Heatherica Brandybuck, how good to see you!"

"A-and you, Cousin Bilbo," she responded, returning the very warm hug.

Bilbo grasped her shoulders, and gently scolded, "I wouldn't have minded waiting longer, you know. You shouldn't have traveled in such harsh weather, nevertheless on foot!"

"And miss tea? You know me better than that. Anyway, it started snowing once I was a mile out from the inn, I had no choice. And I would rather be at Bag End than stay another night there," stepping away, she looked around. "Now, where is young Frodo?"

Heather felt a tug at her skirts, and looked down to find the little hobbit. "Right here, Aunt Heather!"

"Oh, Frodo!" She picked him up and into her arms for a long hug. "I've missed you, little one! Has Uncle Bilbo been treating you well? Let me look at you!" Heather set him back down, and knelt in front of him. "Hmm, still a bit peaky," holding his face in her hands and moving it from right to left, "but your eyes are much brighter here. Yes, this is good!"

"'Course he's treating me well! Come, I will see you to the fireplace, your hands are freezing, Aunt Heather! Yes, he makes all of my favorites, and tells me stories before naptime AND bedtime, and he lets the gardener's son play with me, and-"

Frodo led his aunt to the fireplace in the living room, and pushed a chair closer to it for her to sit in. Heather sat down, and listened intently to Frodo while she warmed her hands in front of the blaze.

"Well, I am certainly glad to hear this! Everyone at Brandy Hall misses you, and will be glad to hear that you are happy and well cared for here."

"Now Frodo, what do we do for guests who just came in the door?" Bilbo said, who had been watching with a soft smile on his face.

"We feed them!" The little hobbit exclaimed. The adults gave a chuckle.

"And..?"

"We...take their bags?"

Bilbo nodded, "Yes, lad. Mind taking Aunt Heather's bag to the spare room near mine?"

"Yes, Uncle Bilbo!" And Frodo ran off.

The adults laughed again. Frodo had seemed to blossom here with Bilbo's attention and care. Heather was glad.

Tea, dinner, and supper passed. After giving Frodo a good-night kiss to his forehead, Bilbo led Heather to her room, and all was quiet in Bag End.

The next morning, Heather awoke to feeling sore all-over, but especially her ankle that she must have twisted from that fall. She shivered as she got out of bed and washed her face in a basin on a nearby table. She looked back to her bed. It looked warm, and quite inviting compared to the cool air in the room. Instead, she put on a dressing gown and went to the kitchen, slightly limping all the way.

"Is that sausage I smell?" She called from the entrance to the kitchen. Heather was surprised she didn't smell it from her room, or the hallway. Frodo looked from the stove, and confirmed happily.

"The lad insisted!" Bilbo said while pulling muffins out of the oven. "We rarely have it, and he wanted it as a special treat for your being here!"

Heather sat down at the table, and told them, "You shouldn't have! But I appreciate it nonetheless." Bilbo sat a full teacup and saucer in front of his guest. Once eggs, toast, sausage, and muffins, with butter and jam at the table-center, were set at the table, they discussed plans for the day. Heather offered to give some of Bag End a good dusting, but Bilbo nor Frodo wanted to put her work! So she counteroffered with clothes-mending whilst telling Frodo (embellished) stories of her journey here by the fireplace. Bilbo laughed, and said that had bread to bake and meats to prepare for the day's meals, so he wouldn't be joining for very much today.

Plans set, the hobbits got up from the dining table. Bilbo and Frodo started to clean up.

Heather coughed, dryly, into her elbow. Bilbo turned, "Are you alright?"

She waved him away, she was just fine, thank you, just a tickle in the throat is all. Heather took up her empty teacup to refill it from the last of the teapot that was still over the kitchen stove, but she stumbled and took a sharp breath after another small coughing fit. Her ankle, after a long, sedentary breakfast in the cold air, had stiffened and hurt more than it had when she had woken up. Bilbo came over to support her by the arm.

"Are you sure, my dear?" Frodo, too, looked concerned.

"I think I twisted my ankle in that fall yesterday, Bilbo. Nothing some rest won't take care of! Just let me know where your torn clothes are, and I'll sit the day away by the fire place-"

"Nonsense! Frodo-lad, go help your aunt to the living room, to the nice chair by the fireplace. I'll finish up here."

Frodo set down the stack of dishes he was bringing to the sink, and took Heather's arm. "Come on, Aunt Heatherica!"

The young hobbit replenished and stoked the living room fireplace while his aunt situated herself in the overstuffed chair next to it. "Come now, Frodo, I don't need all this pampering! Just tell me where the laundry and sewing stuff are, and we can go about our days."

Frodo looked at her, smiling, "Sure, Aunt Heather," he stood up, "How do you like your tea?"

She sighed, and asked for a bit of milk and one sugar.

Frodo returned with a tall bowl of fresh snow in one hand, and a teacup and saucer balanced in the other. Heather accepted the teacup, and gingerly set her aching foot into the snow. She shivered. Frodo fetched a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. "I feel bad, Frodo. A youngster like you shouldn't be waiting on me like this."

"I never get to play host, Aunt Heather! Don't worry about a thing! Can I get you anything else?"

Heather sighed, and resigned herself to her fate. Smiling, "Well, alright. Would you mind fetching something small for me to do? I can't stand idle hands, you know! And while I work, we can catch up properly!"

Frodo beamed, and galloped off. Heather stifled another coughing fit, and took a gulp of tea.

The day passed, Bilbo going to and from the kitchen for meals while Heather and Frodo stayed by the fire, Frodo occasionally leaving Heather to crochet to help Bilbo with chores. The next days continued to be overcast, cold, and snowy. Heather's ankle healed, but eventually she couldn't hide her coughing fits. Concerned, Bilbo had Heather stay in bed, alternating with Frodo for her meals. Once her voice started going hoarse, Bilbo quit letting her prepare her own tea and prepared soups and stews for lunch, dinner, and supper.

"Bilbo, I can do all this myself!" She whisper-shouted, which was all she could really do by means of speaking at this point. Bilbo paused in his refilling the teapot by her bedside.

"No speaking, Heatherica! And I will not have a guest of mine lifting a hand while she is ill! Now, I'll fetch you another blanket and you'll like it."

Heather huffed. She already had plenty of layers on. Minutes later, Frodo came into her bedroom with a quilt and a book, to help with her boredom, he said.

"You mean, to keep me trapped in bed?"

"Of course not, Aunt Heather," he placated. He looked over his shoulder, and then pulled out the crochet project Heather had started working on from between folds of the quilt. She smiled mischievously, "There's a good lad," and she went back to work.

"You really shouldn't speak, you wouldn't want to get worse." Frodo settled himself into a chair near her bed after setting the quilt over Heather. He picked up the book, and began to read aloud.

That night, Heather kept the whole hobbit-hole awake with her intensified coughing. Bilbo had Frodo sleep in the living room, as it was farthest from the noise, and in case Heather had something contagious. Bilbo came into her room throughout the night to keep her water pitcher and teapot full. Both adults were exhausted that morning.

Frodo prepared breakfast, and Bilbo contemplated calling for a doctor. Heather wanted to tell him that she would be fine, further rest and hot drinks would do the trick, but Bilbo gave her a stern look every time she tried to speak. She couldn't speak, anyway, having lost her voice completely now, but that didn't stop her from trying when Bilbo needed a piece of her mind while he fretted.

Bilbo reached over and put the back of his hand to her forehead. He frowned, "A tad feverish." He picked up her breakfast tray, and then returned to refill her water pitcher, now holding a thick cloak. "I have to run some errands today, so it will be just you and Frodo. I've told him not to wander in here, we wouldn't want him catching whatever you have, but he will probably be in anyway. Can I get you anything before I leave?"

Heather looked around.

"Book?" She tried to say, then she held her hands out to mime reading in hopes that Bilbo would understand. Heather had plenty of water and tea, as well as blankets and pillows. She wasn't in the mood for crochet, so reading was her best bet at amusement. Once it dawned on him, he smiled and went to grab one or two.

Bilbo held up two books upon his return, one an anthology of short stories and the other an old favorite, and said goodbye before going out. Heather took them both, and set them aside. She had lied. Her body was beginning to really ache and she was so tired, so she rearranged her pillows and curled up beneath the blankets.

"Heather? Heather?"

A hand shook her shoulder.

They did it again. Heather squinted her eyes, and blinked them open. It was dark save for a few candles.

The hand on her shoulder wasn't Bilbo's. He stood a few feet away.

The gentle-hobbit in front of her smiled lightly, "I am Floribert Babcock, a doctor from this neighborhood. Bilbo, here, is worried about you. He says you have a cough and that your voice has gone hoarse?"

Heather blinked away the grogginess as best as she could, and nodded.

"He also told me that you had a slight fever this morning. Do you mind if I check?"

Heather shook her head, and the doctor reached over to set the back of his hand against her brow, then both backs of his hands against her cheeks. "Your fever has gone up, but not alarmingly so. May I check your pulse?"

Heather offered her wrist, to which the doctor gave her a nod and held her pulse point between his forefinger and thumb. Floribert sat silently for a minute.

"Alright, you seem to be alive," he joked, "Now, if you are able, would you cough for me? Helps me know what you might be sick with, and what we can do to treat it." He looked at her expectantly.

She had actually been holding back a cough for a few minutes now. Waking up had brought her back to a very sore body, especially her throat and chest. A small part of her was glad that Bilbo went out and fetched an expert.

Heather coughed into her elbow, and it was the sort that made others wince. It stung her throat, and tugged at her chest muscles. She had to catch her breath afterward.

"It wasn't this bad earlier, Dr. Floribert," Bilbo said from his corner of the room.

"Is that so?" The doctor said offhandedly. He was rifling through a bag by his feet, which Heather assumed he had brought with him. He took out some paper and wrote a note on it with a piece of graphite. Floribert held it up and said, "Just a reminder to myself to come by with some tea sachets and some medicine for you. I didn't bring much with me, I'm afraid, but I won't be long."

The doctor stood up, and Bilbo shook his hand. "Thank you for coming, Dr. Floribert. Are you sure you wouldn't have me come with you, so you don't have to go out in the cold too much?"

"No trouble at all, Mister Baggins! I've been getting quite bored in my smial these past few days, a bit of walking around in this weather makes me appreciate my fireplace even more! No need to come with me, I need to prepare those teas and that tonic, which could take some time. Stay here and mind your charges," the doctor replied.

He turned back to Heather. "Feel better soon, Mistress Brandybuck. Hopefully those incoming remedies will get you back on your feet."

Heather nodded and gave him a gentle smile, then Bilbo walked the doctor out of Bag End.

Once they were gone, she flopped onto her side. She just wanted to sleep, but she was thirsty, but she didn't want to drink because that would hurt. Heather closed her eyes, and was about to drift off when she heard gently creaking floorboards before being muffled by a rug.

"Aunt Heather, you've been asleep for awhile, so here's some chicken broth Bilbo's been minding all day."

She opened her eyes to find little Frodo at her bedside, clutching a mug between his hands and holding it out to her.

"You shouldn't be here, Frodo," Heather rasped without sitting up.

"But you haven't eaten all day! Take a sip and then I will leave."

With a deep breath, Heather heaved herself up to sitting, and took the mug. It was delightfully warm, and it soothed her throat as it went down. She closed her eyes; this was bliss. "Thank you, Frodo."

"You're welcome, Aunt Heather! Alright, I'll leave now so I don't get sick, so Bilbo says. Feel better soon!" Frodo then ran off, the pattering of his feet growing fainter as he went to the living room.

As awful as she felt, Heather felt lighter having been treated by Frodo. The broth was perfect, not too salty but still nourishing. She finished the mug, and tucked herself back under her covers.

The next time she awoke, the sun shone through the window. Heather felt just as bad as last time, but now hungrier. She sat herself up and reached for her water cup. Bilbo came in while she took a long drink.

"Good morning, Heatherica. I figured you wouldn't be up until second breakfast. Here we are," he set a full breakfast tray over her lap. Warm applesauce, hot porridge, fresh tea, and scrambled eggs. She tucked in heartily. All of the foods felt nice against her aching throat, but the tea was...unique. Heather turned to give Bilbo a look to ask about it, but he had left.

A few minutes later, Bilbo walked in with his own full plate of second breakfast, and sat in the chair in her room. He ate a whole muffin before he looked up and saw her attempting to ask about it.

"Oh, that's the blend from the doctor. He said it might taste odd, but would help. He also gave me a cough syrup with peppermint and chamomile. One tablespoon twice a day, I''ll give you the bottle after we eat." Bilbo was about to take a bite of toast, when he also sheepishly remembered, "And, I, uh, figured you'd like some company. You feeling better today?"

Heather stifled a giggle, but shook her head. "The food and the company help," she rasped with a smile. Bilbo returned it, and told her to drink her tea before going off about how Frodo would be happy to hear that his cooking was helping his aunt, and that Frodo looked forward to the rest of her stay once she was better.

She listened to Bilbo ramble, a delightful change from sleeping and crocheting, and drank her tea while feeling the warmth of Bag End chase away her illness.

[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.

[senditcolton]

youthfully felt

I need to be youthfully felt 'cause god I've never felt young

summary: Sidney Crosby is simply… tired. Of everything. That's how he found himself at a seedy dive bar, drinking his misery away. Then enters Jade Watkins. She offers an escape from the scrutiny, the pressure, the fear, and soon Sidney finds himself falling for the girl who saved him just in time. But does he truly love her? Or does he just love the way she makes him feel? a/n: This fic was originally written as a reader insert for the Winter Fic Exchange two years ago. But I thought the story would work as an OC fic. The original is still on my blog so you can pick your own adventure so to speak. Not much has changed plot-wise but I think I might love this one more. Feel free to read this one and the original and see how you feel! song inspo: Jackie and Wilson by Hozier word count: 11.2k warnings: hinted intimacy (non-explicit), language, resolved angst, and pregnancy at the very end

When people ask which places Sidney Crosby frequents in the large city of Pittsburgh, the answer is not a seedy little downtown bar. That was not the kind of place anyone would expect to find the Penguins captain. It was not a place for someone like him.

But there he was, sitting in a cracked leather booth on a warm May night. What was he doing here? Well… it was the perfect place to disappear. And that’s what Sidney wanted to do, at least for a little while.

Last season had been rough, on everyone. The injuries, the conflicts, the losses, and the constant scrutiny. Despite all of that, the team managed to fight their way up the standings, the race to the playoffs the closest it had been in years. Sid thought that maybe that turn-around, that fight, would be enough for the hungry fans that wanted nothing more than to see success. But he should have known that unless the season ended with a silver trophy, it would never be enough. And unfortunately, the Penguins lost their playoff spot by the barest of margins. And the fans were left with a bitter taste in their mouths instead of a satisfying ending.

Usually, Sidney would’ve shared their hunger and wouldn’t have felt satiated until his arms felt the weight of that 30-pound chalice. But now… he just felt tired.

Tired of living up to that impossible expectation that others held him to. Tired of the eyes that constantly turned to him and analyzed him whenever something went wrong. Tired of the whispers, the criticism that he never seemed to be able to escape.

Was Sidney Crosby losing his touch? Will one too many injuries end this once great hockey player’s career? Should he hang up his skates and let the club move onto to brighter futures? How much time does Sidney Crosby have left?

Those statements and worse had been floating around him for the past few years but he never let them break in. Instead, he used them as fuel to prove the nay-sayers wrong. But this year, the scrutiny felt worse than it ever had before and instead of the words motivating him, they crumbled the walls that he had built. They broke him down and that made him angry.

He gave everything to hockey. He gave up so much of his childhood, his adolescence, his youth, his life, to this sport, this city, to those fans. How much more did he need to prove himself? How much more would people demand of him? How much more would he be forced to give?

Doubtful, resentful, tired Sidney Crosby. The once great player of the National Hockey League.

That was how he felt and part of him didn’t want to pretend to be anything else tonight. And he assumes that’s how he found himself here.

He couldn’t remember the name of the bar where he currently sat. All he knew was this was the last place people would come looking for him. This was not a place to sight a celebrity. This was a place for drifters, rejects, people who had given up on their lives or didn’t care enough to try.  It felt like a place that was stuck in the past; the smell of old beer and cigarette smoke, the dim lighting courtesy of dust accumulated through years of indifference.  

Sidney sits in a booth in the back corner, the cracked leather digging into the back of his thighs. His hand casually wraps around the beer bottle in front of him, gently spinning it, feeling it resist as the glass clings to the stickiness of spilled alcohol lingering on the wood.

This place is not bright, it’s not shiny. It’s a place where this beaten, broken down version of himself could simply exist, baseball cap pulled low because even though this was the exact opposite of where he should be, that didn’t stop some patron’s eyes from lingering on him a little too long. But no one approached him. Maybe they could read it, feel his energy, understand that he did not want to be bothered. And for that, he was thankful. He couldn’t pretend to be the person everyone expected him to be, even from people who may have expected nothing.

He brings the bottle up to his lips, letting the lukewarm amber liquid fall into his mouth, trickling down his throat. He doesn’t let it drop until the last of the beer vanishes and he places the empty glass back with a resounding thud, pushing it so it clinks against the two other bottles abandoned on the table. He flags the bartender down, silently requesting another. He knows he shouldn’t but the fact that he shouldn’t is the very reason why he does. He’s making a choice that feels good for him, in this very moment. Damn the consequences.

A few moments and another clink echoes around him as the bartender delivers the next bottle and Sid hands them another bill, elegantly folded between his outstretched fingers, a token of discretion for both him and the worker, if they think of running their mouth. The bartender takes the money from him and moves back to their spot behind the bar-top and the seemingly pointless job of wiping down the counter.

Sid quickly peeks at his watch, checking the time. 11:52. Almost midnight. He resigns himself to this, his last drink, and he slowly sips from the bottle’s lips. The walk back to his car still parked outside PPG will give him time to sober up. The night is still warm and this way, he won’t have to worry about hustling an Uber, another potential leak that might gab about a Crosby that seemingly sunk so low. He’s about to take the last swig and leave until the creak of the front door alerts him to someone else entering the bar.

He doesn’t really intend to look. But there is some inexplicable force that calls him to. And that’s when he sees her.

She walks in, the breeze following her from outside, ruffling her long black hair and lightly fluttering the edge of the red plaid shirt adorning her body. Sidney watches as her eyes scan over the dimly lit bar and he subconsciously feels himself lift up, as if he wanted to catch her attention. He quickly deflates when those eyes simply pass over him, as if he was just another patron.

He watches as she waltzes to the bar, leaning forward and places her elbows on the wood. He hears a few muttered words to the bartender and based on her hushed conversation and body language, he realizes that this bar was a place she frequented. She was not a girl who got lost after a night out with her friends, who just happened to wander into the closest bar. No, she was familiar with this place. It perplexed him. One look at her and Sid knew that she didn’t belong here.

But not in the same way as him.

Sidney Crosby in a bar like this the equivalent of a shiny new penny that catches your eye when you see it at the bottom of a dingy fountain and wonder how it even came to be there. But her…

He couldn’t quite describe it. There was something about her; her energy, the way she carried herself. It was as if she was a creature who willingly walked into the darkest part of the forest and yet showed no fear. As if she knew she didn’t belong here, but didn’t care. Because it wasn’t that her that needed to figure out how to exist in this place. It was this place that needed to learn how to handle her.

Sidney was captivated.

And yet, when she spins on the bar stool, an Old Fashioned in hand, those eyes moving to once again gaze over the patrons of the bar, Sidney finds himself looking away, his own eyes jumping back to memorize the ridges on the mouth of his beer bottle. He didn’t know what made him look away, what made him shrink down, especially when he was vying for her attention when she first walked in. But whatever the reason, he was content to stay that way until he knew she was gone.

The last thing he expected was the crackle of dried leather shifting underneath someone else’s weight, sitting down across from him. And her green eyes staring back at him when he looked up.

“Never expected to run into a celebrity here,” she muses out loud, those eyes shamelessly looking him up and down. Sidney’s eyes tear away, ducking back down, hoping his baseball cap hid the way his cheeks turned pink.

The laughter that escapes her lips is intoxicating and Sidney feels his cheeks warm even more when he realizes she was laughing at him.

“Don’t worry, superstar,” she says, eyes moving to peruse the nearly empty bar once more. “I won’t tell anyone that you were here. I know the look of someone who wants to hide.”

Sidney’s eyes jump back up to her at her words and he can tell that she was willfully ignoring his puzzling gaze.

“You don’t look like someone who hides anything,” Sidney says, the words falling from his mouth before he can think them through and he feels himself blush again as she laughs.

“Is that your go-to line? If so, it needs some work.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that… I mean, you – “Sidney stumbles over his words and she giggles again at his attempts to rectify his words.

“You know,” she says, gently interrupting him, “I expected you to be more articulate, y’know, being an NHL captain and all. But then again,” she continues as she notices his jaw clench at her words, “you’re here. So maybe there’s more to you than what everyone thinks.”

Sidney’s mouth drops open, shocked at how easily she was able to read him. How she managed to see him, truly see him. He watches as she turns back towards him and suppresses the shudder that wants to run through him as her knees knock against his underneath the table.

“So, tell me superstar,” she says, the teasing lilt in her voice clear, “why are you here?”

“You’re really beautiful,” Sidney says, the words once again being spoken before he thinks them over and her laughter falls over him in a gentle wave. He feels heat threatening to rise to his cheeks once more but he also feels his lips pull into a smile, a gentle chuckle rumbling through him as well.

“That was a much better pick-up line than before. Glad to see improvement.”

“And who says I was trying to pick you up?” Sidney replies and her eyebrows shoot up as she glances at him. He shoots a gentle smile back and it takes a moment before she realizes he is teasing her as much as she was him. She smirks back at him, slightly shrugging her shoulders.

“Fair enough.”

Sidney watches as she lifts her glass to her lips, eyes dancing away from him. As her gaze falls from him, Sidney is struck with the thought that he would do anything to get her eyes on him again. And as if she can hear his thoughts, she looks back to him. 

“Let’s make a deal then,” she says, a bright glint in her eyes. “No more assumptions. At least, for the rest of the night. Deal?” She reaches out to him and he can’t help but look at the offered hand, decked out in rings and chipped nail polish.

“Deal,” he says and he reaches out his own hand to gently clasp hers, the callouses on his palms and fingers built up after years and years, sliding against her smooth skin. He shakes her hand before pulling away. What he didn’t expect was the feeling of disappointment that ran through him when his hand fell from hers.

“Well, now that we got that out of the way,” she starts, breaking the silence that lay heavily between the two, “you still didn’t answer my original question. What are you doing here, superstar?”

“I’m not sure,” Sidney answers, shrugging his shoulders.

“Bullshit.”

“I thought we agreed no assumptions?” he shoots back and she can’t stop the smile that appears.

“I don’t think that’s an assumption. There must be some reason, something that brought you here. I mean, this isn’t really a place for anyone, let alone someone like you.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Not happening, superstar. I’m not showing you mine until you show me yours.”

“Well, that seems a little like extortion,” Sidney replies, laughing at her smirk and the way she rolls her eyes at him.

“That would be coercion, not extortion. I would have to demand money from you for it to be extortion. So, unless you’re willing to pay money to learn my life story, then you’ll just have to keep wondering.”

“Oh, so now you are extorting me.” She laughs, gently shaking her head and Sidney watches and wishes there was a way he could hear that laughter forever.

“I suppose I am,” she sighs, twiddling the rings on your fingers. The silence falls as she takes another sip of her drink before she speaks again. “I’m here because I used to know the owner.”

“Used to know?”

“Yeah. Used to. He’s not around anymore. Left me with only this bar to remember him by,” she explains. Her explanation was vague enough to not reveal the entire story was but the way her voice quieted, the way that her eyes went unfocused, makes Sidney realize that was all there was to say. She sighs, blinking a couple of times before focusing back onto him.

“Alright superstar. There’s my reason. Why are you here?”

“I wanted to be in a place where no one would recognize me,” he says and he slightly chuckles when he sees the smile appear on her face. “I guess I didn’t do very well.”

“No, you really didn’t. But I suppose there isn’t a lot of places where the great Sidney Crosby can hide.”

“You have no idea,” he sighs, tearing his eyes away. It is a moment before he looks back at her and he is shocked to see a glimmer of understanding sadness in her expression.

Suppose they both were trying and failing to get away from the things that haunted them. And so, they sit, simply existing in this place where neither of them should be.

“Well,” she speaks, breaking the silence once more, “I suppose I’m not really helping you disappear. Guess I’ll see you around superstar.”

She kicks her legs out from underneath the table, scooting across the cracked leather, hand wrapped around the glass as she starts to leave. But before she can lift herself up from the booth, Sidney reaches out to her, his strong calloused hand wrapping around her wrist.

“Um,” is the first syllable out of Sidney’s mouth and his cheeks heat again as he sees the smile that pulls at her lips. “You don’t have to leave. I mean, it’s kind of nice talking to you. And besides,” he says, a crooked smirk appearing, “you haven’t successfully extorted me yet.”

“It’s not really extortion if you agree to it, you know.”

“Then just call it a date,” Sidney replies and he can see that she is slightly taken aback at his casual words.

“What exactly are you offering me, superstar? Are you gonna pick me up in a nice tux and take me to a fancy romantic restaurant, with roses and wine and then drive me home and leave me with a polite kiss on the cheek?”

“I thought we agreed no assumptions?” he says but he knows that she can see the light pink tinge on his cheeks and can easily guess that that was exactly what he was thinking.

“It wasn’t an assumption. It was a… prediction,” she shoots back, settling back down in the booth, fingers dancing over the glass of her Old Fashioned. “But hey, if I’m wrong, tell me now.”

Sidney sits there in silence, his hand wrapping around his bottle as he takes another swig of beer. He couldn’t respond to her challenge because it was true. And he hated that she could see right through him so easily. Or maybe he loved that within a few short moments of meeting him, she managed to laugh her way to the truth of him, break through all the people that he pretended to be.

He wasn’t quite sure which feeling was real. All he knew for certain is that he wanted more.

“Well,” he clears his throat, his eyes jumping back to hers. “What were you thinking of?”

Her fingers continue to circle the rim of her glass, her head tilting and gaze drifting away from him as she thinks. Then her eyes reattach to his and – with what Sidney could only describe as one of the most wicked smiles that he had seen – she plucks the cherry garnish from her drink. Sidney can’t take his eyes off of her as she drops the entire fruit into her mouth. He watches as she sits there for a moment, the red juice lingering on her lips and he would give anything to kiss the sour-sweet off. Her lips part and she plucks the cherry stem from in between her teeth, tossing it over the table. Sidney glances down and notices the perfect knot in the center. His eyes jump back up to her, that fucking grin still on her face.

“What do you say we just get out of here?”

­­­~*~*~*~*~*~

The soft morning sunlight filters through the windows, dancing across Sidney’s face. And when his eyelids finally fluttered open, the first sight he was met with was a cluttered nightstand. His gaze dances over the candles, plants, and rings that littered the wood – the opposite of the clean and sleek table that sits beside his own bed. But then again, he wasn’t in his bed.

Sidney glances down and sees Jade curled up in his arms, her back against his chest, breaths falling softly. She had whispered her name to him last night, on the way to her apartment where he currently resided.

Last night was… he didn’t think he could describe it.

When she made her bold offer, there was a part of Sidney that wasn’t sure if he should agree. But there was something about her, something so unfathomable that Sidney couldn’t stop the pull of her gravity. And in that moment, he silenced the critical voice in his head and said yes.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. He was supposed to chalk it up as a little too much to drink, a lapse in judgement. But then she kissed him.

And Sidney realized that he never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again.

Last night, he felt alive. Jade had kissed him without pretense, without presumption. Her lips danced across his skin, counting every scar, leaving no inch untouched. She breathed life into the hollows of his neck, the ridges of his ribs and he was caught in the thrill of someone who willingly brought him to his knees. She surprised him, challenged him. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

But then again, he never met someone like her before.

A heavy sigh sounds from her and Sidney is startled out of his daydream, back to the present moment. Jade nestles deeper into the rumpled sheets, another sigh escaping her. Sidney’s arms impulsively tighten around her frame, pulling her closer, loving the way her skin felt against his. What he wouldn’t give to stay in this bed, forgetting about the world waiting for him outside.

But one glance at the alarm clock perched on the nightstand told him that he couldn’t.

The great Sidney Crosby had things to do.

With a defeated breath, Sidney presses a small kiss into her ruffled hair before carefully untangling himself from her grasp. He crawls out of the bed, picking up his clothes scattered on the floor where they fell the night before. As he gets redressed, Sidney lets his eyes jump around the room, as he tried to discern Jade’s story from the pictures on the walls, the books on the shelves, the knick-knacks decorating every free space. He wasn’t prying; that would be considered rude. But he wanted to know more about the woman that he shared a bed with. Wanted to see if he could understand the power she held over him.

He's leaning in close to a picture hung on the wall at the foot of the bed, his hand clasped behind him when he hears a small laugh echo around the room. He quickly spins around, a blush instantly rising to his cheeks. His eyes land on Jade, propped up on her elbows, the sheets clinging to her body.

“Are you spying on me superstar?” she asks and Sidney is relieved to hear the teasing lilt in the question. He can’t help but respond with a small smile of his own.

“Wasn’t my intention,” he replies, walking back towards her.

“Oh really? And what exactly was your intention?” she laughs as Sidney settles himself on the edge of the bed, the mattress slightly sinking underneath his weight.

“Just trying to figure out a mystery.”

“What mystery is that?”

“You,” he says softly, his gentle eyes dancing over her face, smiling as he watches her own smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Jade lifts herself off the mattress, sitting up completely and leaning in closer to him. Her chin comes to find a perch on his shoulder and she leans her cheek against him, breathing in the lingering cologne from his t-shirt. Sidney lets her rest there for a moment, choosing not to move away and instead watch as the rising sun paints the apartment golden.

“Keep wondering,” she whispers into the morning air. She turns her head to look up at him, a smirk painted onto her face as his eyes connect to hers. The sunlight catches her irises, setting the green alight. He watches as her gaze jumps from his eyes to his lips and back again but he doesn’t call her out on it because he knows his eyes are doing the exact same thing.

Sidney is the one to break first, leaning in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. He can hear her breath catch in her throat and part of him hopes she can understand the emotion behind his actions. How he is worshipping her without words. Her hands find their way up into his hair, fingers tangling into the peppered grey at his temples. Jade falls back down against the sheets, dragging Sidney down with her. He groans into the kiss, his arms caging her to the bed. But she didn’t seem to mind.

He breaks apart, leaving her to chase after his lips as his body retreats. A small chuckle rumbles from Sidney’s chest and Jade playfully glares up at him.

“I have to go,” he says, breaking the silence, a part of him aching as he watches her expression falter. He steels himself as he rises off the bed, moving towards the door, his hand wrapping around the door handle. But before he turns it, he looks back towards Jade, feeling her eyes still attached his frame.  

“Am I going to see you again?”

“Only if you want to,” she teases and Sidney can’t stop the crooked smile from appearing on his face, eyes ducking down at her gentle prodding.

“I do,” he says, biting his lip and glancing back up at you. “Could I get your number? Or do you want mine?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jade laughs, Sidney’s expression shifting to one of confusion. She smiles back at him before continuing. “I’m sure it’ll be easy to find you in this city.”

Sidney laughs, happily falling back into the verbal tennis match that made him so drawn to her. He turns back towards the door, opening it gently and stepping over the threshold.

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you around,” he says, not hiding the hopeful rise in his voice.

“Catch you later, superstar.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Days passed and Sidney still hadn’t heard from Jade. Or even seen her.

Every time he walked down the Pittsburgh streets, he hoped that he’d run into her; maybe coming out of the bustling farmers market or even on the street outside of PPG Arena. He had even entertained the thought of going back to the bar where they met in the hopes that she’d be there. But he never did.

She said that she would find him but every day that went by without a trace of her, Sidney’s hopes dimmed. And as time ticked by, an insidious thought entered Sidney’s mind; maybe she did this on purpose.

Maybe this was the way she operated, part of how she moved through life. Blew in out of nowhere, entered his world and turned it upside down, and then disappeared as quickly as she came.

Sidney didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that he would never see her again. There was something about her; he felt it from the moment she walked into that bar. Something that he wanted to continue to explore. Jade was fascinating and wild and free. She made Sidney feel young again, even in that one night. And that wasn’t something he had felt in a very long time.

Sidney has had eyes on him since he was a child. He was taught how to behave, how to act, how to be that good guy, on the ice but especially off the ice because his image was so closely tied with his success. People can hate you as much as they want for how you play, but if their only complaint is your skills and not your character, there is nothing they can take away from you.

It wasn’t that he hated it. He was thankful for everything that hockey brought him; family, friendship, and more prosperity than he knew what to do with. But part of him never felt like he got to be a kid.

He knew he could never go back and re-live that part of his life. But Jade… she made him feel youthful. And God, what he wouldn’t give to feel like that again.

These were the thoughts that were rattling around in his head as he walks down the Pittsburgh streets, the sun warming his back. He wasn’t sure of his destination or if he even had a destination. All he knew was that he needed the space, needed to take a moment to breathe. He keeps his head down, eyes focused on the concrete sidewalk, letting the cars speed past him. He doesn’t take note of anything around him which means he doesn’t notice the car that pulls up behind him.

“Hey there, stranger!” a voice calls out to him. He turns and there she is – Jade, sitting behind the wheel of a beautiful vintage convertible.

Her sunglasses are perched on the end of her nose, those green eyes playfully looking over the edge at him and he can’t help the smile that appears on his lips at the sight of her.

“Hey,” he says casually, turning towards her and walking over. He reaches the passenger door and leans against the side. “I thought you disappeared.”

“Oh, so you’ve been thinking about me?”

“Only every day,” Sidney coolly replies and she laughs at his words. And the way her laughter rings through the late noon has Sidney’s heart ringing with it.

“You know, your pick-up lines are improving every time we talk.”

“You’re a good influence on me, I suppose.”

“Ugh, there you go again Sidney Crosby,” she says, dramatically throwing her hand on her chest. “You know the way right to a girl’s heart!”

A warm chuckle rumbles through Sidney, his head slightly shaking at her antics. Her smile never leaves her face and he returns the grin as she takes him in; his warm skin, the bright sun lighting up his hair, his body calm and relaxed against her car.

“So,” Sidney starts, “what have you been up to?”

“Not much. Just looking for you,” Jade replies, shooting him that dazzling smile before kicking off the parking brake, shifting the car to drive. “Hop in.”

Sidney takes a step back, a little shocked by her sudden request. She shoots a glance back towards him and he knows that she has seen the shift in his demeanor. The smooth and relaxed guy that was there a second ago had disappeared. In his place was the closed-off Sidney Crosby that people were used to.

“Um” Sidney hesitates, his uncertainty the only thing he could speak.

“Come on, you know I’m not some crazy stalker,” she laughs. Her words don’t work as Sidney stays in his place. Jade sighs, shifting the car and placing the parking brake back on.

“What’s up?”

“I’m just not sure this is the best idea.”

“Was it a good idea for you to get drunk in a downtown bar a week ago?” she shoots back at him. Sidney knows she has him with those words because it wasn’t. But that’s exactly where she found him.

“C’mon superstar,” Jade says, her voice softening but still holding that teasing energy that drew him to her in the first place. “Don’t think about what anyone else would think. Do what your heart tells you to do. And if that’s walking away right now, then I’ll respect that. But I have a feeling that’s not the case.”

Sidney looks back at her, leaning back in the driver’s seat, that smile on her lips. How she was able to see through him so easily, after spending a single night with him, he’ll never know. But he knew for certain that he didn’t want to lose it. He didn’t want to how he felt when he was with her.

And before he could talk himself out of it, before he could let those voices in his head decide for him, he was tugging on the door handle and sliding himself onto the warm leather of the passenger’s seat.

Jade’s only reply to his actions is a bright smirk shot in his direction before she once again shifts the car to drive and pulls away from the curb and onto the Pittsburgh streets.

Sidney looks out, watching as the buildings and other cars pass by. Sometimes, when stopped at a traffic light, he thinks he notices people on the sidewalks or in the neighboring cars do a double take in his direction. He instinctively ducks or turns his head away, never wanting to draw attention to himself. But it doesn’t fully work.

A car speeds pass, horn honking and Jade and Sidney look up as a few boys lean out of the window.

“Hell yeah Sidney!!!” their shouts echo as they drive away and Sidney gives them a polite wave. Jade’s head turns towards him and an involuntary giggle falling from her lips at his chagrined expression.

“That’s got to be annoying,” she says, turning her attention back towards the road.

“I don’t mind it,” Sidney replies, his somewhat practiced words falling from his lips.

“Bullshit.”

Sidney’s eyes jump to Jade, her serious yet relaxed face turned towards the road. She releases a sigh as she senses his eyes on her. Without looking at him, she continues.

“C’mon superstar. Part of you must want to live your life without all the eyes of Pittsburgh on you.”

Sidney doesn’t reply, instead choosing to turn his head back to look at the passing scenery. He didn’t want to admit it but she was right. There were moments in his life that he wondered what it would be like if he was not Pittsburgh Penguin Captain #87, the great Sidney Crosby, one of the best NHL players and he was simply… Sidney.

There she was, once again reading him like the well-worn pages of old book.

The silence weighs heavily, a stark contrast to the spring breeze that rustled through the air. Jade shoots a quick glance in Sidney’s direction and find him still turned away.

“Look, I’m sorry. That was presumptuous on my part,” she says, eyes returning to the road stretched out ahead. Sidney’s face turns back to look at her, watches as her hands tighten around the steering wheel, reading the anxiety that coiled in her body.

“I thought we agreed no assumptions?” he jokes, echoing the words from the first night they met. Jade laughs, the noise immediately lifting the fog from between them.

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

She continues to turn down the busy streets and Sidney lets himself relax back into the present moment. He watches as Jade glances up at the traffic signs before a smirk appears on her face. It stays on her lips as she turns to connect her eyes with Sidney.

“Do you want to get out of this town?”

Even though her eyes are obscured by her tinted sunglasses, Sidney knows that bright mischievous energy is sure to be sparkling in those green eyes, the look that pulled him to her that very first night. Without thinking, he nods in agreement. Her grin widens as she turns onto the highway that leads out of the heart of Pittsburgh.

They zip down the interstate, the wind ruffling Jade’s hair as they drive further out of the city. She glances back at Sidney and smiles as she sees him relaxed against the passenger seat, his energy seemingly calmer, his chest rising and falling, breathing in the fresh air, the smile never leaving his face.

Eventually, Sidney turns his eyes back to Jade and watches her in the same way.

Part of him felt like he was running away; running from his problems and his worries. However, he knew that if he ever did decide to run away from his troubles, that also meant running away from the things that meant the most; friends, his career, his success. But right now, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Because deep down he knew he would run from anything if it meant running with her.

He watches as Jade reaches down to turn on the radio, scanning until she lands on a station playing some old classic rock and leans back, letting the music dance through the light breeze. Her lips start to move, quietly mouthing along to the lyrics as the world races by. Over the noise of the breeze, traffic, and music, it takes her a minute to register a different voice accompanying the radio. Jade peeks over to see Sidney singing along to the music, his hands tapping a rhythm onto the passenger side door. With a smile, she reaches again and turns the music up, looking back at Sidney with a grin.

“Oh, the movie never ends, it goes on and on and on and on,” she joins in, the grin never leaving her as her eyes goad Sidney on. Sidney reads her challenge and continues singing, his volume increasing.

“Strangers waitin’ up and down the boulevard their shadows searchin’ in the night.”

“Streetlights, people. Livin’ just to find emotion.”

“Hidin’ somewhere in the night!” Sidney leans his head back, hitting that high note, causing another bought of laughter to fall from Jade’s lips. He looks back to her, the smile dancing across his lips as he watches; her head throw back, her child-like laughter cascading through the air. And that feeling hit him again; that feeling of youth and freedom.

Sidney didn’t have to pretend to be anyone with her. He could simply be.

They continue down the road, singing and laughing as the world passes by. After what seems like hours, Jade turns off the highway, taking an exit that Sidney didn’t recognize.

“Where are we going?” he questions, looking back as the crowded turnpike disappears behind him.

“No place special.”

Sidney doesn’t feel like prying so he remains silent and lets Jade move along the small desolate roads. Throughout the drive, he constantly looks back at her, watching as she confidently turns down side streets, as if she had followed this path a hundred times. Another part of the mystery of her.

Jade drives onto a dirt road, passing a worn wooden sign that Sidney can barely read and follows the path up a small hill until she parks at the edge of a lookout. He watches as she hops out and walks to the front of the car, leaning against the hood. It takes a few seconds until Sidney is following, finding his place in the empty space next to her. He looks out onto the scenery and it taken aback.

Jade had brought him to a lake, the trees crowding the edges, the water gently sloshing against the shore. The sun shined down on the scene, making the water below sparkle. His eyes couldn’t stay still as he took in everything around him: the sugar-spun clouds, the towering oak trees, the groups of dandelions that line the edge of the hill. He stays silent as he sits next to Jade, letting the only noise be the rustling of the leaves around him and the quiet birdsong.

A few moments pass before Sidney looks back at her and feels his heart leap. She is staring out over the scenery, the wind ruffling the edges of her shirt, the pale blue sky reflected in her eyes. There is nothing special about how she looked and he loved that. She wasn’t performing for him or for anyone. She simply existed.

Sidney watches as she lifts herself up off the car and wanders to the edge of the lookout, the sunlight tracing her frame. Crouching down, she plucks some of the dandelions from the grass, lifting them up and letting the bright yellow flowers wiggle in her grasp.

“Do you like dandelions?” she asks, her eyes never departing from the task at hand.

“I never thought about it,” Sidney answers truthfully.

“I think they’re lovely,” she softly says, her fingertips tracing the golden petals.

“But they’re just weeds, right?”

A breathy laugh falls from her lips as she straightens herself up, the flowers still held in her grasp. She wanders over to Sidney, slotting herself between his parted thighs. Sidney can feel his breath catch in his throat as she leans towards him, pulling a dandelion from the small bouquet.

“And who says weeds aren’t lovely?” she whispers to him, gently placing the flower behind his ear and he can’t suppress the shiver that runs through him at the feeling of the petals against his skin and her fingers tracing down the back of his neck.

“So beautiful and so stubbornly alive.”

Her gentle words are enough for Sidney to lean in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. She sighs against his lips, her arms absentmindedly wrapping around his shoulders as his hands find their place on her hips, pulling her closer. The kiss deepens as Sidney is pulls her down, her body draped over him as his back rests against the warm metal of the hood. Jade finally breaks away, departing breathless above Sidney. Sidney looks up at her, his hazel eyes warm as he lifts his hand, coming to cradle her cheek, his thumb gently tracing over the smooth skin.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he murmurs.

Jade pauses and Sidney swears the world stops as his confession lingers in the late May air. Sidney keeps his breathing strong and steady underneath Jade as he waits for her response. The glimmering hope in his eyes falter as a laugh from her lips instead of the words he hopes to hear.

“So rational, Sidney. Falling for a woman you just met,” she says, voice light and dismissive. Sidney’s eyebrows furrow at the shift in her energy, watching as she lifts herself up, pushing her body away from him and off the car. She returns to her spot next to him on the edge of the hood, eyes returning to overlook the scenery in front of her.

“You barely know me.”

Sidney knows that she can feel his eyes on her but she doesn’t turn around. He reaches his arm out towards her and can feel the shiver that runs through her as his fingers graze over her hips.

“I want to.”

Those gentle words are what causes her to finally turn back to him, her eyes connecting to his. The look on his face is so truthful, so earnest. A small smile appears on her lips and Sidney lets out a breath of relief that he didn’t know he was holding.

“Is that your best pick-up line?” she quips.

“As long as it works,” Sidney teases back, wanting to keep the light-hearted energy between the two of them flowing. She laughs that brilliant beautiful laugh that captured him that first night and lifts herself up off the car. She extends a hand out to him which he gladly takes, lifting himself up before moving closer to her, his arms wrapping around her waist once more.

This time it is Jade who makes the first move, lifting herself up to connect her lips to his. They stand there, entangled in each other’s arms, the sunlight warming their bodies. And Sidney feels instantly lighter when she finally breaks away.

“Come on, superstar,” she says, peeling away from him. “Let’s get you home.”

She hops back in the car, Sidney following close behind, before retracing the path back to the bright lights of the now dark Pittsburgh streets. And when Jade pulls her car up outside Sidney’s house in his affluent neighborhood, it takes everything in him not to invite her inside.

But Sidney still has a smile on his face as he opens the front door and turns to watch her car disappear around the corner. Because in his pocket is a dandelion along with an old receipt, with her phone number hastily scrawled on the back.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The months that Sidney shares with Jade pass in a blur. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t rushed. It was just how it felt; a swift stumble into a romance that felt as soft as summer and as gentle as the setting sun. It felt like something out of a movie: a romance filled with honey and lemons – bright and sweet and wild.

Sidney was in constant awe of Jade; how she moved through the world, how fearless and unapologetic she was. He had never met anyone like her.

He had been everywhere, all over the country, all over the world. He had played in front of thousands of people, each one of them cheering his name. And he would trade it all, every experience, if he could be promised that he’d never have to live without hearing her soft voice whispering secrets in the golden-filled hours under white covers, eyelids heavy and the scent of magnolias drifting through the open windows.

There were moments when Sidney didn’t think she was real. That she was an apparition that he conjured up from one of his wildest dreams. But she was real and every moment he spent with her, he became more certain that she was made for him.

These were the thoughts where dancing through his head as he watches her move throughout his living room, her body lightly dancing to the tune she was humming underneath her breath. He sits on the couch, just watching her, his t-shirt hanging from her frame, the early afternoon sun dancing on her skin. She turns, a smile on her lips that Sidney shares. That bright laugh falls from Jade as she waltzes over him, her body coming to a stop between his outstretched thighs. Her hand reaches out, gently running through his hair, following a path down to his cheek, her touch bouncing between every freckle. She giggles as his lips kisses her fingertips each time they get too close to his lips.

Jade turns away from him and starts to exit the living room. But she stops in her tracks at the sound of Sidney’s voice.

“I love you.”

The world seems to stop when those words fall from his lips. He said it before, that day in May overlooking the lake. But it was a question back then, a hesitation. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said that day. And that one word, that uncertainty, held him back from the truth he knew. But now…

Jade turns around to see Sidney sitting there on the couch and when her eyes dance over his face, Sidney knows that she can see the honesty painted there. He was sure of his words and wanted her to believe him when he said it. He was in love with her; that much was certain. So, there he sat, still looking at her, silently praying that she would say the words in return.

Instead, it is a laugh that echoes around the room.

“That’s sweet superstar. Do you tell that to every wide-eyed girl you know?” she quips. Sidney’s eyebrows furrow as the confused replaces the certainty that used to be on his face.

“What are you saying?” he asked, his bewildered tone clear.

“What are you saying, Sidney? You love me?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“What do you mean ‘I don’t’?” Sidney questions as he lifts himself off the couch cushions, taking a small step towards her. He hears the light-hearted sigh she lets out as she turns away before his voice stops her again.

“Please, look at me.”

Jade turns back towards him, looking him in the eye.

“You don’t love me, Sidney. You don’t.”

“What does that mean?”

She scoffs, and the lack of explanation frustrates him, causing him to continue.

“No, tell me why you don’t think I love you. What have we been doing for the past few months? Just having fun?”

“Yes,” she snaps, “yes, Sidney that is exactly what we’ve been doing. That’s what this is; you looking for a distraction and me being the one to give you that.”

“Is that how you see us? Is that how you see me? That I’m just using you for… my own gain? How could you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re doing Sidney,” she says with a venom in her voice that Sidney was entirely unaware existed. “Maybe you don’t realize it but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. I don’t understand why you would think that. When I met you that night in that bar, there was something. Something pulled me to you, I don’t know what it was, but there was something, you can’t deny that. And you found me. I don’t care if that sounds stupid or cliché but you found me at the right time and… and you saved me. I was drowning and you saved me.”

She scoffs again at his words and Sidney still can’t understand her reaction.

“You did,” he continues, his voice raising, taking on a pleading edge that he should’ve been ashamed of but he didn’t care. He wanted Jade to talk to him. “I felt like shit, I was angry and spiteful and tired. God, I was so fucking tired. And then you came along and you changed that. With everything you do; the way you laugh, your smile, your attitude. It was refreshing and freeing. You made me feel young and in love and I never felt like that before. And I do love you because of it.”

“My God, Sidney,” she yells, the damn finally breaking. “Do you even hear yourself? This – that – that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” She starts to pace around the room, the frustrated energy radiating off her in waves. “I’m not here to complete you or make you feel young or save you. That’s not my fucking job.”

As soon as those words escape her, Sidney realizes how he fucked up. He starts to open his mouth in an attempt to back-track, to tell her that he didn’t mean it that way. But before he can utter a single syllable, Jade cuts him off again.

“And that’s what I mean when I say that you are using me. I’m this girl who showed up at the right time and everything about me is fun and unique and wild and carefree. That’s who you want me to be, so I can fit into that pretty little narrative you created in your head.  You don’t love me, Sidney. You love that woman, that idealized version that you made. But I’m not her. I’m not that girl.”

She sighs, energy spent as she collapse onto the armchair in the corner, eyes downcast.

“You look at me Sidney. But you don’t see me.”

Sidney shifts in place before moving over towards her. However, even though she could clearly hear his approach, Jade doesn’t lift her head as he kneels down, his warm palms coming to rest on her thighs.

“I do see you. I promise I do. There’s so many things about you that I love and –”

“Name one,” she says, those piercing green eyes locking with his. Sidney flinches when he sees the distance shining within her irises. “Name one thing you love about me that doesn’t benefit you.”

Her challenge hangs heavy in the air as Sidney open his mouth, leaving it gaping for a moment before closing it once more. And he can’t stop the small wince that pangs through him at the humorless laugh falls from her lips.

“That’s what I thought,” she sighs. “I’ve been there before. I’ve been with people like that before. I know you think you love me but you don’t. As soon as I show any vulnerability, anything that you can’t slap a pretty little filter over, anything that doesn’t fit into your daydream, you’ll wake up… and then you’ll leave. You’re going to tell me that you won’t, that you’re not like all the rest but…”

Her words trail off and Sidney wants to know why. He wants to know what he could say to her to prove that he was different. That he did love her, that he did want to be with her. That he would stay forever by her side. 

He wanted to know why her heart was battered, beaten. How it had become like a scared animal backed into a corner, timid and mistrustful.

“I promised myself that I would never go through that again. I can’t,” she finishes, pushing his hands off of her as she lifts herself off the armchair. Sidney watches as she grabs her keys, walking to his front door, placing her hand on the handle, ready to walk out of Sidney’s life. But before she does, she looks back towards him, still kneeling on the ground, his hazel eyes locked on her frame.

“I’m sorry,” she says and Sidney isn’t quite sure what she is apologizing for. But those words feel as definitive as a goodbye. And those are the words she leaves him with as she walks out of his house.

Sidney stays there, watching as the door closes, the resounding click of the latch falling into place echoing through his home and only one thought similarly reverberating through his mind:

Where did he go wrong?

He thought she felt the same. No, he was certain that she felt the same way about him. Sidney was and could be many things but reckless with his emotions was never one of them. His head spun with the moments that he had shared with her throughout the months.

At first, he couldn’t think of any instance that he could confidently say that was the sign, the indication that she didn’t feel the same. But as he continued to think, as he pushed away that love-struck haze that covered those memories, he realized that there had been some moments; moments where she pulled away from him. She hid it well, with her laughter and jokes concealing a deeper meaning, a hurt that he never bothered to investigate more of.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he got too caught up in how she made him feel that he didn’t put in the effort to uncover who she really was.

But the more he thought about it, he realizes that he didn’t just sweep those moments under the rug, didn’t ignore them. He pushed as much as he thought he could, never wanting to overstep the boundaries that she had set. Sometimes he felt as if he got close but every time he felt that way, a wall he didn’t even notice separated him from her. It wasn’t easy. But Sidney knew that he would wait forever for Jade to tell him those stories that she kept under lock and key.

Yes, there were moments where things weren’t perfect, where he made mistakes, where communication fell flat. But part of him knew that those beautiful moments he shared with her, where he did truly see her, were enough to chase after her. Because there was no way that the past few months weren’t real.

The speed that Sidney grabs his coat and car keys is hectic to say the least but he knows that he can’t waste anymore seconds. There is a very real possibility that Jade would be lost to him forever, gone as fast as a midnight cigarette. He jumps into his car, making his way down the winding Pittsburgh streets to her apartment building. He is ready to scramble out and hit the buzzer of her apartment until she responds. That is, until he takes a quick look around the small parking lot and doesn’t see Jade’s vintage convertible anywhere.

A frustrated sigh escapes his chest as he takes out his phone, dialing Jade’s number but only getting her voicemail. His body slumps against the driver’s seat, a wave of defeat washing over him, a feeling that he didn’t want to accept. He closes his eyes as his brain desperately flips through his memories, trying to find something that could tell him where she might be.

Suddenly, a crystal-clear image pops into his mind; sunglasses perched on her nose, the wind whipping around her convertible, that wicked smile dancing on her lips, her voice light;

“Do you want to get out of this town?”

His eyes fly open as he kicks his car into reverse, driving back onto the streets. After a few minutes, Sidney is on the highway leaving downtown and bringing him closer to rural Pennsylvania and hopefully, closer to her.

Part of him worries that he’ll make a wrong turn somewhere, delaying him and potentially costing him his last opportunity to reach Jade. He didn’t have the exact map in his mind. She had only brought him there once, that day in May and he hadn’t taken the time to memorize the specific route. All he had to go on was the bare bones of his memory and the landscape and signs around him.

But it seemed the universe was on his side; the setting sun is guiding his path. He recognizes enough small landmarks, telling him that he was headed the right way and it wasn’t long until he found himself pulling up to that old wooden sign.

He turns onto the dirt road, following the path up that small hill, that outlook where Jade took him those months ago. There is a whisper of fear within him, scared that he would make it to the top and it would be empty. That she would be gone completely from his life and he would never be able to find her again. But then he turns that final corner.

And there her vintage convertible sits, parked on the top of the hill.

And there she sits, leaning against the hood, looking out at the sunset.

Sidney parks his car behind hers, letting the engine die and plunging the lakeside back into the almost silence of nature; the wind in the trees being the only sound.

Hopping out of the car, Sidney moves towards Jade, partially expecting her to turn back or acknowledge him in any way. She must have heard him, must have heard the car door and his feet crunching the gravel beneath him. But she doesn’t react; her eyes stay locked on the horizon. Even when Sidney reaches her, leaning the hood next to her. The silence hangs heavy until Sidney finally speaks.

“You hate the ends of garlic bread,” he says, his voice soft. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Jade’s head whip towards him, his words clearly not the ones that she was expecting. He doesn’t look in her direction though, instead choosing to stare into the same sunset that she was moments ago.

“You hum any song when you’re cooking or doing chores,” he continues, his voice sure and steady. “You will use anything as a bookmark. You always catch the spiders your apartment and release them instead of killing them. You put cinnamon sticks in your coffee. You always point out cows when you drive. You move around in your apartment just to make sure you’re always sitting in sunlight. You love gardening and want to have a yard so you can grow flowers and fruits and vegetables and herbs.”  

He continues to list these things about her. And it’s not just the beautiful things; it’s the ugly, scared, vulnerable things he’s noticed too. He’s describing these moments, these little things that he doesn’t even know the meaning behind. But he notices them nevertheless. And finally, finally, he turns to look into Jade’s eyes. And he notices the way her breath catches when she sees the look of pure love shining in his.

“You were right. I did love the idea of you. I loved the way you made me feel. And I should’ve known – I should’ve known not to do that. Because that’s all everyone has ever done with me.”

He lets his confession hang in the air, letting his words sink in for a moment before he speaks again.

“Almost all my life, people had their ideas about who I should be. And I got so used to it, that I started believing that’s who I was. I made these masks that I could wear and change in order to always be the exact person that people expected. Then you came along. You didn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. You saw through all those feeble facades that I wore and you loved me for exactly who I was. And,” he pauses, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, as if to gather himself one final time, “I don’t want to go back to pretending for whoever comes next. Because I don’t want there to be anyone else. I only want you. The beautiful part and the ugly parts. Because that’s who I love. You.”

Sidney finishes his speech and lets the silence fall, lets his words drift away into the late summer breeze. His eyes stay locked onto hers, looking into those beautiful green eyes, watching the changing emotions flicker behind them as she takes in his confession. She finally breaks the connection, turning to look back at the sunset.

“I can’t be the one to make sure you stay that way, Sidney,” she says, reiterating that fear that kept him at arms-length throughout those months that they shared.

“You were never the one that made me become myself. You gave me permission to make that choice in a moment when I thought I didn’t have that option anymore.”

It’s another moment of stillness, another moment of simply existing in the same space. Until Jade finally moves, her hand reaching over the hood of the car towards Sidney. There is a second of hesitancy where her hand rests in the empty in the space between them.

Until finally, Sidney extends his own hand. And when his hand meets hers, fingers intertwining, the sigh falling from her lips, he knows that she can feel the warmth of his love. And along with it, the certainty that she was safe to fall.

Because he would always be there to catch her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Three Years Later

The click of the lock is a welcome sound, Sidney pushing the front door open to his new home. Or more accurately, their new home. The one he and Jade chose a year ago, shortly after their wedding. A place that would be uniquely theirs, a place where they could set down roots and build a home and a life after his retirement from hockey.

Sidney had announced his retirement at the beginning of this season, stating that it would be his last. There was a large amount of fanfare and an expectedly large amount of media attention throughout the regular season. When the Penguins hadn’t made it to the playoffs, he was upset. The narrative of his club winning one last Stanley Cup for him was a compelling one. But he didn’t let the loss sting him too much. He had three already, along with so many other awards and achievements and memories. Those were the things that he could hold onto.

He was confident that he would be able to let the game of hockey go. Because he had Jade.

Sidney walks deeper into the house, calling her name, his voice echoing off the walls. A silence greets him until he finally makes his way into the kitchen. And sees the open screen door leading to the backyard, the mellow sounds of R&B music floating into the house. After putting his things down on the kitchen island, he steps out onto the porch, his hazel eyes scanning over the yard.

The first thing Sidney notices is their dog Wilson laying in the middle of the yard, his chest rising and falling as he soaks in the April sunlight. Sidney’s eyes finally find Jade, sitting on her knees, crouched over one of the many flowerbeds he made for her. He watches as her hands pull out the creeping weeds, preparing for the coming spring. A few plastic pots of black irises sit next to her, their stalks gently swaying in the breeze as they patiently wait for her to nestle them in the dark soil.

Sidney makes his way across the yard, stopping to greet Wilson who is so content that he barely lifts his head in acknowledgement. He eventually reaches Jade, his body lowering to join her on the earth. The approach would’ve been silent, if it weren’t for the groan that rumbles from his chest as his knees protested.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he laughs, finally relaxing into kneeling position. Jade’s laugh dances on the breeze, her attention turning to him, the Pittsburgh Penguins baseball cap perched on her head, protecting her face from the sun.

“What’s the matter superstar? Retirement taking the wind from your sails?” she teases, sitting back on her heels as she wipes the dirt off her hands onto her worn out t-shirt. Sidney can’t help but smile when he notices the rings hanging from her necklace, the ones that he had chosen for her almost two years prior.

“I’ve only technically been retired for a week now,” he playfully shoots back, the false offense painting his words. Jade just laughs again, her attention still focused on him. “I suppose my body just needs to learn how to slow down.”

“Well, hopefully it’s not too broken down to pass me that bucket of fresh soil.”

Her teasing request is one that he gladly obliges, reaching for the green bucket sitting a few inches away from him. He pulls it close to his body, ready to pass it over to her when a flash of white catches his eyes. Sidney’s eyes refocus, staring into the bucket as his brain registers the item perched on top of the loose soil.

A pregnancy test.

He tentatively reaches it, grasping the test and lifting it out of the pail. He has to use his hand to block the sunlight to be able to fully read the screen. And his jaw drops when he finally makes out the word ‘pregnant’ staring back at him. Sidney’s eyes flash up to Jade whose gaze is still locked on his body, a soft smile on her face.

“Are you serious?” he asks, the disbelief clear in his tone.

Jade doesn’t give a verbal response, just a small nod as her smile grows wider. Sidney doesn’t hesitate to reach out to her, pulling her into a crushing hug. Her bright cheerful laugh rings out through the air as he holds her close, muttering words of joy and thanks to her and to the universe for bringing these blessings to his life. Sidney can’t stop pressing kisses into her sun-warmed skin as she continues to giggle before she grabs his face and draws him into a passionate kiss.

They finally break away from each other, smiles still splitting their faces and Sidney’s hands fall to rest on her still flat stomach.

“What should we name her?” he asks, his thumbs lifting Jade’s shirt to brush against her bare skin.

“Easy there, superstar. We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet.”

“Trust me, it’s a girl.”

“Oh, and why are you so certain about that? Did the sudden knowledge that you’re going to be a father give you some sort of parental superpower?”

“I just know it,” he replies, that crooked smile tugging at his lips. Jade just returns his smile, his quiet certainty making her softly chuckle.

“I’ve always liked the name Jacqueline. Jackie for short,” she says, the suggestion floating on the breeze.

“Then Jackie it is.”

The two of them stay there, staring at each other as the sunlight beats down on them. This was it for him. It was him and Jade and Wilson and their unborn child. A contented sigh falls from his lips; this was all he ever wanted in his life, all he had ever hoped for. And just like she always did, Jade seemed to know exactly what he was feeling, that beautiful soft smile painting her features.

It isn’t clear who moved first, but at the same time it didn’t matter. Because when Sidney’s lips met Jade’s, he felt the certainty of their love thrumming through him. They break apart, his forehead resting against Jade’s, their breaths mingling in the warm summer light.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

taglist: @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @ sorlos-world @svexhenthusiast and adding @wyattjohnston cause as mentioned, this is started as a Winter Fic Exchange fic.

join my taglist here!

[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.

[wiltyard]

fall once more | tf: earthspark

masterlist [You are here], 02 started on: 12/2022 chapter posted on: 11/25/2024 Warning/s: n/a REMINDER: This is a reader-insert/oc-insert. Reader is named. Ero is YOU. Gender neutral pronouns will be used. No use of Y/N.

"Alright, until GHOST figures out what to do with our new...friend here..." Ero had already tuned out their conversation by then, zoning out as their gaze wandered to the trees across the clearing. They’ve heard of this conversation before. How nice of them to treat them so well after everything they’ve done.

Ero didn’t have a concrete vision of their future, not that they didn’t want one, just that they couldn’t. Every waking moment was either filled with pain, tests, check-ups, or whatever task Dr. Meridian had thrown them. They never had the privilege to hope, and dream.

Even if things were different if they did have the time—hard emphasis on if—whatever future they would have envisioned then would still be nothing compared to the life they have now.

Dr. Meridian is gone. That is something they haven’t processed properly yet, and it was something they wouldn’t even dare think of back then. He was a constant in their life, for the longest time, and for him to just disappear like that, it's hard to make peace with, even if he wasn’t exactly a source of comfort or happiness.

Maybe he abandoned them, who knows? They don’t want to think about it. Because then they’d have to acknowledge that the thought bothers them. Being abandoned, thrown away.

Could they call this place a home? Maybe not, they’ll get kicked out in a week or two, they’re not exactly hopeful about sticking around, nor do they want to stay here. Where they’d go afterward, they don’t know but they’ll make do.

One thing they missed from their past routine was having so much to do and little time to think. The more they think, the more they spiral, the more they doubt, and the more they feel confused. Maybe they'll ask later if they could have something to do. But again, not hopeful.

Dorothy eyed them from a distance, watching them closely. It didn’t go unnoticed; the feeling of holes being burned on the back of your head is difficult to ignore after all. They had to get used to the staring at some point, that too was difficult. If it’s not Dorothy, it’s the children, if it’s not the children, Alex, if not any of the humans or the Terrans, it’s one of the Autobots.

It's not that they don't understand why they're acting like this. Ero would do the same thing, at least they think so. But…they still hate the staring. 

Ero of course has to pretend they don’t notice it. It’d be more uncomfortable for them than they already are to turn and stare back at whoever was watching them. Think about it, to hold the gaze of someone who clearly isn’t fond of your company, and maybe they don’t all feel that way, but still.

Just imagining it was enough to unease them as they shifted their posture a little, crossing and uncrossing their arms, fiddling with the fabric of their clothes that were so generously donated to them, they can't help but feel bothered by the weight of it, whether it's the weight of the clothes or…. the guilt of everything. That, they’re not sure of. And they’d rather not let it consume them.

Eventually, Dorothy turned her attention to the leader of the Autobots, asking a question in a voice too low for Ero to hear, but loud enough to catch snippets of whatever she said to Optimus. “....Optimus...sure...safe?...the kids.”

Ero tilted their head a little, not too much to make it obvious that they were looking, but enough to catch a glimpse of Dorothy nodding to the children. The human children and the Terrans that Ero should’ve been paying attention to in the first place. They realized a bit too late that the kids in question were approaching them, a group of four, four too many. And before Ero could even think of fleeing, the Malto children had already closed in much to their dismay, now throwing out more questions at Ero than they could answer.

One thing Ero had to learn the hard way was they were quite terrible at socializing with other humans, especially with kids. They even told Optimus this when he asked them what they were looking forward to experiencing on their way to the Malto family’s residence, completely ignoring the question at all because what is there to look forward to?

“I don’t know. Is there anything to look forward to?” They added after, asking in a monotone manner with their gaze unfocused. Optimus could remember that moment clearly because of the melancholic tone to their voice.

Back to the present, Optimus watched the entire scene unfold before him, and despite the looks and glances Ero shot at him, almost asking him to help them. He only gave them a look back, silently telling them that he had no intentions of interfering. This crushed whatever hope they had to be saved from this, given the way their shoulders slumped in defeat.

No doubt he believed they needed this as “exposure therapy”, or something along those lines, they really don’t need it. But whatever makes him feel satisfied. They’ll just think of this as an order, a task given to complete, yes, that’s right. They’ll get through this, this is easy.

“I heard from Optimus you’re technically not human anymore! How does it feel? Do you eat human food? If you eat, does it still come out the other way一?”

They suppressed the urge to hit themselves. Knowing if they did, they might have to deal with another lecture about proper social etiquette. Whatever that means.

Optimus on the other hand, Optimus was sure they weren't a danger to the children. What he had observed while Ero was under his care was enough confirmation and reassurance for his thoughts about them. However, what he thought of Ero and what they were capable of was different from what the others thought of them. To the others, they were someone who had put their friends and family at risk, Dr. Meridian’s child.

Megatron had openly detested Ero, the potential danger they posed to the Malto family, and Dorothy's family, and endangering them was more than enough reason for him to dislike them even if that made him a hypocrite due to his history.

The Terrans? After risking their human siblings' lives? Let's say it'll take much longer for them to warm up, much less even trust Ero. This shows in the way they hovered closely next to Mo and Robby while throwing in their questions. Twitch and Thrash weren't exactly...fond of them either. Curious, sure, but trust Ero? Ha. No.

The blue and red mech sighs, taking a while before he finally nods to answer Dot’s question. The look on her face though was enough for him to understand she wasn't happy with just a nod. She wanted a verbal, direct, answer. An answer that for once the leader of the Autobots couldn't give.

Optimus wished their new friend at least tried to seem more…friendly, and easy to get along with, but he knew better than to hope. With their short time under his watch, he knew they’d have trouble integrating themselves back into society, while also giving the others a hard time, albeit unintentionally.

Still, he was already bracing himself for the numerous headaches he'll have to deal with in the near future, no doubt brought by Ero, maybe not directly because of them, but because of what the others had to say. Just the thought of what's to come was enough to tire him.

His eyes were now on the ground, then turned to look at Dorothy again. "Yes. It is safe, for now, you and your family are not alone nor will we let anything happen to you alone. I swear to you, Dorothy."

She still wasn't convinced, but... she decided to trust him on this. He has never intentionally put them in danger after all. Trouble just...finds them.

In truth, Optimus is still unsure of what compelled him to decide taking Ero under the Autobots', and of course the Maltoses' wings. Even if the rest of them believed Ero was far more trouble than they were worth. But, to leave them at the mercy of Earth's governments, someone who no doubt would catch many people's attention, the wrong people’s attention, he thought of it as too cruel.

Maybe it's because of how far the cruelty of human beings could go for the sake of progress, innovation, or even just at a shot of power or immortality, that they could be subjected to even more experiments. Knowing what they know about Ero, what they had endured while affiliated and being in Dr. Meridian's company, wasn't that enough punishment? Their mere existence, what they’ve been turned into, what they became, isn't it enough?

And if he were to even bring his thoughts up to them, he knew they wouldn't share the sentiment. Ero would try to appreciate it with what little understanding they have of these types of emotions, with emphasis on "try", but then immediately, almost comically, try to prove him wrong with their thoughts.

Maybe if they weren't so unused to human emotions, they would have initially scoffed at him, waving it off as they barked out an almost condescending laugh, perhaps garnering some narrowed and questionable stares from whoever was in earshot, hearing the conversation. While holding much respect for Optimus, they would have believed his opinions regarding them as stupid, or his sympathy misplaced.

He’s seen the way Ero reacted to pity, sympathy, and anything that involved consideration and concern for them, of the many things Ero could control, it’s their body language and expressions when faced with emotions foreign to them that they could not. It seemed that they did not like pity, at least directed at them.

When asked, all they could answer with was; “It’s unpleasant.”

Or...the way their eyes would look. So, downcast, full of...something. He knew it was strange somewhat, knowing Ero’s history, some of it at least, one could say it was alien to them.

He turns once he feels Megatron’s presence next to him, the bot in question crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at the kids and Ero. Without turning, he starts; “If you're wrong about this Prime—”

“Yes, I know.” He doesn't let him finish; he doesn't need to. He knows Megatron’s uncertainty and distrust was from a place of concern. He was quiet, a beat passed, then two before he turned to Megatron. “...you should spend some time with Ero. Perhaps it could prove useful in your assessment of them.”

Megatron huffs at that idea, he wasn't happy with it. Ero is no little birdy. But he’s not turning him down immediately so there's a chance. “You’ll find you share more things in common with them than you think.”

Maybe it's the way Optimus’ voice lost its initial edge, the way it grew soft because Megatron found himself considering it. The things this bot could convince him to do, and he’d find a way to justify it just for Optimus. And it’s not like it’d hurt to try. “Fine.”

Optimus didn't say anything back, he didn't need to. The smile on his face was enough for Megatron to know he was pleased with that answer. He only rolled his optics at him as he walked off. He’ll monitor their little prisoner another day, not today. “I have a recon mission to get to, I’ll see you around Optimus.”

He transformed into his alt-mode, and with that, he was off as Optimus watched behind until he was out of sight. He sighs, then turns to check on Ero, finding them alone and giving him an apologetic look as they wave at him. Only then does he realize he has the children’s attention, seeing them make their way toward him.

“You had a tinier version of you in your trailer?!” Twitch exclaimed, exasperated, before pointing an accusatory finger at him. “AND YOU USED IT AS A SCOUT??? WHY DOES ERO KNOW ABOUT THIS BUT NOT US?”

Watching them throw so many questions at him, not even letting him have a word in, Ero almost felt bad. Still, they figured it was better to just get their attention elsewhere, to anyone, just not them. What better way than to bring up something Optimus told them?

It wasn’t anything sensitive, something interesting, and something most had no clue about the big guy. Something Optimus thought would help distract Ero when he somehow figured out that they were nervous. And to this day Ero has no clue how he found that out, they’re not gonna ask. The thought that someone just sees through them, “understood” them in a way… didn’t feel as nice as it should.

With that, they took this as their chance to slip away from the group, from the kids, and hid behind the other side of the barn. Once out of the others’ sight, they sat down and allowed themselves to finally relax.

Throwing their head back, they closed their eyes and audibly sighed. Taking in the sounds of nature—the rustling leaves, the cows, the birds—and, along with the distant voices of the kids’ numerous questions. They could overhear Optimus doing his best to answer all of them while attempting to calm Twitch’s momentary anger.

While confusing for Ero to witness, these people’s dynamics felt comfortable and warm, a stark contrast to the bitter cold they were used to. From heated glares to concerned gazes. Threats to soft-spoken encouragement. From dark, bleak, and cold rooms to the open and sunny outdoors.

Ero opens their eyes, staring at the sky that’s now tinted with pink as the sun sets in the distance. It was peaceful. They’re not used to it, admittedly.

“You’re as slippery as a quantum drift.” A voice suddenly spoke up behind them.

Ero immediately tensed once they heard his voice. Of course, it was Bumblebee. The ever-friendly yellow Autobot. They’ve met long before, but not in the best circumstances—the whole working for Dr. Meridian thing and everything else in between.

Once they saw that familiar yellow, they unconsciously relaxed just a tiny bit. They don’t know how to personally feel about him. Their past interactions with him weren’t all…that bad. Sure, he was talkative, and said too much, but he tried to be friendly with them. Tried to talk instead of resorting to violence or trying to hurt them as most did.

Bumblebee tried reasoning with them. And, well, he was right to make that call.

They still have no clue how to feel about Bumblebee, or any of them to be honest. He was friendly, but too friendly that they wanted to lump him with every other well-meaning but ultimately shallow individual they’ve ever met in this lifetime. 

Still, something in Bumblebee’s tone made them pause. Something that reminded them of the strange, uncomfortable warmth they sometimes felt in their chest, when the sunlight hit the surface of their crystalline body just right. It felt too much like hope.

Despite the not-so-unpleasant experiences they had with him, it didn’t erase the unease Ero had about him (or anyone to be honest). They know better than most, the friendliest faces are often the most dangerous. Or maybe they’re just jumping to conclusions, and he is just a friendly face. Still, they’d rather take their chances with assuming wrong about him than putting their already fragile sense of safety at risk. But what risk?

These people have been nothing but kind to them. Even when they don’t ever need to be. They had every right to treat them like they were nothing but the dirt beneath their feet, and yet, despite the cautiousness each of them had whenever interacting with Ero, they could sense even just the slightest concern in their voices.

“...I could say the same to you.” Ero’s tone was steady, they straightened their back, feeling the weight of their crystalline form shift ever so slightly. It wasn’t comfortable, this body they were forced to inhabit, but it was theirs. And as of now, no possible way of changing back.

They clearly weren’t happy with his intrusion. It was obvious he was there to check on them to see what they were doing, but he could’ve done it from a distance, no need to actually talk to them. What do they even have to say to him anyway? Nothing.

Bumblebee’s expression shifted a little, sensing they wouldn’t just let down their walls around him that easily, and he'd tried a bunch of times. If what he’s heard of them was correct, then, maybe they weren’t that bad. Just need to get through that tough exterior they built up.

“Well, what can I say, can’t be the best scout of the Autobots if I can’t slip in and out of places like that.” He grinned, leaning against the barn wall, and this time, Ero only gave him a side glance, before turning away again. His grin faltered a little. Tough crowd?

“You distracting the kids like that, getting their attention on Optimus instead so you’d be able to leave—pretty clever. You could be a pretty good scout, too, you know.” He tried again, his voice was a bit softer now, none of that banter he usually carried. The banter never worked anyway, Ero only ever reacted to the words, never the tone, never the nuances. They were always so careful.

And Ero, once again, barely reacted, their gaze hardened as they turned away again. That compliment landed somewhere between confusion and just plain discomfort. It’s not that Bumblebee was wrong, it’s just that his words didn’t reach them. Nothing could. At least for now. They’ve only been here a couple of days after all, and only today were they allowed to interact with the rest of the Malto family. He can’t blame them for being distant. But he’d hoped they’d at least…open up a little.

Before his run-ins with Ero, he’s heard rumors here and there about them, apparently from Decepticons who escaped Mandroid’s grasp. How they did it with a little help from someone inside, Dr. Estes Meridian heard of these rumors himself, but never once thought it would be his own child.

“...thanks.” They finally spoke up before going silent again. It’s a bit difficult to read Ero now that he thought about it. Outside of what they’re willing to talk about, their actions, they’re relatively…blank. If that makes any sense. As in, if there’s nothing that pushes them to do something, they don’t do anything, they don’t say anything. Speaks-when-spoken-to kinda deal but also in terms of actions, situations.

Bumblebee sighed internally, while he may not have achieved his goal of getting Ero to open up, them responding back was enough progress, right? Maybe tomorrow will be different. If not, then maybe the next day after that.

“Slippery as a quantum drift.” → “Slippery as a fox.” Delivered as promised before the end of November. My phone got confiscated at my big age of 21 while I was in the middle of writing this the past few weeks. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it. I literally have an unfinished published fanfic I haven’t touched since 2021 and let’s cross our fingers I don’t do the same with this one ong. Also please point out any inconsistencies or typos!

[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

[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.” 

[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.

[jynrso]

exorcism

baldur's gate has taken over my life since it came out for the ps5 and now that i've finished my first playthrough (that took me 80ish hours), i couldn't get this scene out of my head!! this isn't a reader insert fic –– though i call my oc tav, this fic deals with her specific backstory. appearance wise, i tried to keep it vague, but her scars and tattoo play a role in it. i haven't played dnd though i tried to do some research about the sinner tattoo option –– i couldn't find anything about it so i decided to give it my own backstory (and if it does have a backstory/affliation, we can just pretend it doesn't!) adding on to that, i've done my best to keep things relatively vague since i'm not super well-educated on the lore i'm super nervous to write in a new fandom –– it's been a few years since i've written something outside of rogue one. regardless, i hope you enjoy! read it on ao3!

It’s the middle of the night when Astarion wakes from his trance, an empty spot next to him in his bedroll. Ever since Tav decided to share his tent (can’t get enough of him, cheeky little thing), he’s gotten used to her warmth at his side, so much so that it’s almost difficult to rest without her there. 

(He’s gotten greedy –– he’d gone two hundred years without this sort of non-sexual intimacy and now he can barely last a few hours.)

He gets up slowly, keeping his footsteps light and quiet. It doesn’t feel like anything is wrong but he leaves his tent cautiously, just in case. It takes him a few seconds to find her but once he does, he frowns. 

There she is, sitting by herself on the very outskirts of camp, just out of earshot of everyone else. It’s late enough that most of their other companions are asleep and yet here she is, hours after her watch shift, seemingly wide awake and hunched over one of her daggers. He’d thought –– well, he’d seen her sharpening her knives earlier that day. Surely they’re sharp enough? 

The first of many alarm bells begins to ring in his head and he makes the decision to check on her, just in case. This, combined with her anxious, overly paranoid behavior over the past few days troubles him. If she just wants to be alone, he won’t push. But if there’s something truly wrong. . .he’s new to this whole “romantic relationship” thing but he’s pretty sure that means he should try and comfort her. 

(He wants to comfort her. It’s an odd feeling, not one that he’s used to.)

“Darling, you’re looking positively maudlin sitting over here by yourself,” Astarion exclaims quietly, making his presence known so as not to startle her. He approaches Tav with his arms open wide, posture easy and light with his usual dramatics, but there’s a hint of concern underlying his words, just barely perceptible. 

He perches next to her on the log she’s claimed on the outskirts of the camp, leaving a small gap of space between them. “What’s got you looking like you want to chop everyone up into little pieces, hmm?” 

The last remnants of the campfire flicker over her profile as she turns her face slightly to the side, one of her eyebrows raising in response. But her focus remains mostly on the dagger in her hands, the repetitive drag of her blade against a whetstone filling the air for a few fraught seconds. 

He’s just about to probe again when she finally speaks. “Just thinking about tomorrow,” she says. Her lips twist wryly, in a move that he doesn’t entirely believe to be genuine, when she adds, “I’ll admit, I’m eager to finally get my blades into Gortash.”  

And if he hadn’t known her so well, he wouldn’t have been able to see the microexpressions that flit across her face: the way the corner of her mouth tightens ever so slightly, how her gaze briefly darkens with shadows. The other rogue is good at hiding but he is, too –– even better at noticing it in the people he. . . cares for. 

“Oh, you always know just the right words to get me all riled up,” he replies smoothly, but he’s not going to let her get away with brushing off what’s clearly bothering her that easily. “But I don’t think that’s all that’s on your mind, is it?” 

It never fails to surprise him that he actually does care. While his affection for her had started off as a manipulative attempt to make himself invaluable to her, over the past few weeks, his feelings for her have morphed into something real. And no matter how hard he’d tried to get her out of his mind, he just couldn’t.  

His opinion of her had shifted after the tiefling party, when she’d offered her blood to him for the first time. Prior to that moment, when she’d woken up with his lips on her neck, she’d threatened to stake him should he try that on her or any of their companions ever again. But then –– 

(“I trust you won’t take more than you need,” Tav says, untying the leather gorget from around her throat. It’s only half a threat –– Astarian can see the faith in her eyes (the faith in him!) and is momentarily floored by it. 

He’d say something flirtatious if he could even think, but all thoughts fly out of his head the moment he sees the expanse of skin she’s just bared to him. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, eyes darkening at the possibility of feeding.

And then he sees her neck –– properly sees it. There’s a large scar covering the expanse of her throat, jagged and uneven, curling up toward her jawline. If he had to guess, someone had gotten behind her with either a dagger or garrote wire, and she’d fought back, if the messiness of it was anything to go by. 

She’s a survivor. He’d known this already, having seen the scrappy and dirty way she fought, and this only confirmed his prior assumptions. Oh, but this makes her so much more –– 

“If there’s not enough room, just bite somewhere else,” she mutters, her voice cutting through his internal musings. She looks away from him, jaw clenching, clearly misunderstanding the path his mind has gone down. Her eyes harden. “Maybe this is a mistake –– ” 

He strides over to her, takes her chin gently, and nudges her face up to meet his gaze properly. “There is plenty of room,” he purrs, practically ravenous at the thought of sinking his teeth into her neck. But there’s a line he won’t cross, not with her. “If you’re. . .still willing?”

She searches his gaze for something he can’t quite identify but evidently finds what she’s looking for after a few beats. With a determined glint in her eyes, she tilts her chin back and exposes more of her throat to him. She warns him again, “Only a taste.” 

As if he could ever be satisfied with only a taste of her.)

“I want to stab Gortash. That's all.” Her words are firm and decisive. The lightness from earlier has left her voice, eyes narrowing.

Astarion clicks his tongue in impatience, pushing further. This only confirms that there’s something he’s missing, a piece of the puzzle that he’s yet to put together. It’s more than this whole mess with the tadpoles and the Absolute –– he bets it’s more personal. 

“Come now,” he tsks, “I hardly find it fair that you know all my deepest darkest secrets . . . and yet I barely know a thing about you.” 

The other rogue levels him with a flat look, an edge entering her tone. To anyone else, her expression and the blade in her hands would leave them reeling ––  but not him. “Neither one of us is the type to play fair .” 

Humming in agreement, he takes a risk and moves closer to her, their arms and thighs brushing. She, like him, struggles with gentle touches like this; whereas she’s always looking for an opportune blade, he finds it difficult to remember that he’s more than what his body can provide someone else. 

But once she’d told him that she didn’t want more than he could give, that she didn’t expect anything out of a simple caress or kiss, he couldn’t get enough of her, to touch her just because he could. 

“Maybe not,” he acquiesces, tilting his head to the side. He swallows, then adds, not fully comfortable with what he’s saying but needing to nonetheless, “But. . . you were here, after that whole mess with Cazador,” he tells her quietly. “Now I’m here. And I –– I want to be here. For you, for whatever it is. You don’t have to tell me, but if you want to. . .I’m here.” 

Tav’s gaze shifts from him and instead moves to a point in the distance. Even though she tries to hide it, he can see the tension in her expression, the rigidness of her muscles, and the strained pull of her mouth. She’s afraid, he realizes, on edge. Not of him, but of whatever secret she’s got locked away. 

Finally, she sets her shoulders as if preparing for a fight and asks him a question he doesn’t expect. “Have I ever told you about the tattoo on my face?” 

The tattoo in question is a single word right on her cheekbone and underneath her right eye: “sinner.” It had struck him odd when he’d first seen it; though facial tattoos are hardly uncommon in Baldur’s Gate, the lack of decoration and placement makes it seem more like a brand than an aesthetic choice. 

Upon learning more about her past and how she’d been close to making a name for herself in the criminal underground before the nautiloid had picked her up, his suspicions had eased some. Sinner. A classic –– if not somewhat obvious –– choice for a woman who’d crafted a life built from illegal activity. Though he’d found it strange that someone working under the noses of the authorities would have such a defining, identifiable mark, he’d had bigger concerns than her aesthetic choices. 

But the mention of it now, in this setting, leaves him feeling off-balanced, unsteady. 

As she speaks, she angles her face slightly so he can examine it properly. Upon closer inspection, he notes the jagged and crooked lines, the uneven application of the ink. A third of it is partially obscured by faint scarring. It looks almost like someone (or perhaps, Tav herself, he realizes with a frightening clarity) had unsuccessfully tried to claw it off her face. 

Astarion shifts, throat dry from his unpleasant realization. His words sound a bit forced when he answers her question, an attempt to put the two of them more at ease. “Well, love, I overheard you telling Wyll that you’d gotten it after you’d stolen your first piece of jewelry worth more than a thousand gold.” He taps his chin in thought, putting on a dramatic air to try and cut through the discomfort. “Then, of course, you told Gale you’d gotten caught stealing from the church in Rivington and lost a bet.” 

She huffs out a small but amused breath. It’s barely noticeable, though he perks up upon hearing it anyway, a warm feeling spreading across his chest. He’s not good at this but at least he’s gotten one thing right.  

Tav nudges him with her shoulder, muttering fondly, “You’re so nosy.”  

Taking it as a compliment, he preens at her praise. “Really, though, darling, you must keep better track of your lies. Wouldn’t want your wires to get crossed, so to speak.” 

She scoffs, shaking her head. “An amateur mistake. It’s just. . .” she jabs the blade of her dagger into the dirt in between her knees as she thinks. “They know it’s a lie, I’m sure, but it’s easier to make up stories. To. . .pretend that it didn’t happen like it did.” 

The tension hangs in the air between them, interrupted only by the soft chirps of wildlife and the occasional snore of one of their companions. Tentatively, he reaches out and takes her hand, giving her time to pull away before he laces their fingers together. Small physical touches like this always help him so he figures. . . “If it’s too difficult to talk about –– believe me, I get it.” 

“No, I –– ” she grits her teeth, jaw clenching. “I want to tell you –– I want you to know.” 

At his side, his free hand flexes helplessly. 

“I took a job a few years ago,” she starts finally, shifting her gaze so she’s once again staring at the ground. “It was with a team I’d worked with once or twice before and the specs of it. . .it was too easy. I should’ve known better but. . .” she trails off, lost in her head. 

When the silence goes on, he prompts quietly, “But you did it anyway?” 

“I did,” she exhales. “It was supposed to be my big break but we got caught. Fists burst in out of nowhere, rounded us up, and threw us into the prison under Wyrm’s Rock. Nothing unusual. But then –– and I still don’t understand why –– a group of them blindfolded me and took me out to a carriage. I thought it was a standard prisoner transport. It. . .” she laughs but it sounds wrong, sounds broken. “It wasn’t.” 

Astarion’s never liked the Flaming Fists and their versions of justice but hearing this makes him want to destroy the whole organization singlehandedly, to rip apart each and every individual responsible for making her sound like this. He hates it, hates the way her voice wavers when he continues her story. And he’ll take his time, too, draw it out until they’re begging him for––

 “They took me to this. . .I don’t even know what to call it,” she murmurs, cutting through his murderous thoughts. He shakes his head slightly, refocusing on her. “Soon as I got there, these people sat me down and told me. . .” her expression shifts into something more pained; in response, he squeezes her hand tighter, feeling hopeless. 

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to comfort her, how to properly care about her like the others might. The way she listens to every memory he tells her about Cazador seems effortless; she always knows the right thing to say and do. But here he sits, absolutely useless, unable to do anything but hold her fucking hand. 

“It was some religious group. They told me that I had sinned but I could still be saved. That they would save me.” Perhaps unconsciously, she forgets her dagger on the ground next to her and reaches up to her cheek, covering the tattoo with her hands. Her nails dig into her skin, an exact match to the faint marks crossing it. 

Without thinking, he reaches over and gently tugs her other hand from her face. She blinks, as if being released from a trance, and finally turns to look at him, eyes wide and uncertain. Shifting sideways on the log so his upper body faces her, he holds both of her hands with his own. 

A bit frantically, he combs through his memories to try and remember how Tav pulls him out of his head. In the wake of a nightmare when all he can see and feel is Cazador, she’ll touch him gently and gather him to her chest, murmuring quiet stories into his ear as he struggles to maintain his sense of reality. It’s her that brings him back: her voice, her smell, her touch. Cazador has destroyed almost everything in his life but not this. He hasn’t touched her.  

Maybe he can be that touchpoint for her, too. (Gods, he wants to be.) 

“Stay with me, darling,” he says lowly, an undercurrent of urgency in his voice. “Don’t lose yourself in that beautiful head of yours. You’re here, with me.” 

Her expression wavers but she forces herself into her usual neutrality, taking each emotion that slips through her mask and forcefully shoving it back down. For him, for his fucking sake. “I know,” she exhales shakily. “Just –– let me finish so we never have to talk about this again.” 

After a beat of hesitation, he nods slowly. Who is he to judge her limitations, just because he’s uncertain? “I’m here,” he promises, voice serious. He surprises himself with how much he means it. “I’m listening.” 

“It was just a different kind of prison,” she tells him quietly. “And I ––  I was there for only two fucking years and then the nautiloid –– “ her voice hitches. “I didn’t, at first, but then –– I think they drugged us, all of us fucking sinners, and ––  and then it was just easier to –– ”

The sound of her voice breaking combined with the look in her eyes. . .he’s never seen her cry, not even when she’d taken an arrow to her gut. It’s always stoic silence from her –– at first, he’d had to work to get her to even crack a smile at his quips. But the sight of her watery eyes (no tears, even after all this) snaps the fraying thread left of his restraint, especially when he knows firsthand what it feels like to lose all sense of your identity, to be treated like a spawn or a sinner instead of a person. 

He reaches out and gathers her into his arms. 

Her hands curl in the front of his shirt as she shakes. Astarion clutches her to his chest, arms banded around her back as she buries herself in him, getting impossibly close. She’s done this for him so many times that it feels like second nature to comfort her in the same way, to let her take shelter in him for as long as she needs. 

A soft, wounded noise leaves the back of his throat involuntarily. He tucks his face into her hair, closes his eyes to stop the wave of sadness that threatens to overcome him. “Say the word,” he tells her fiercely, his words hissing out in an angry breath. “Say the word and I’ll burn their entire fucking organization down. ” 

She doesn’t even need to say it. Already, his mind churns with possibilities of how he can sneak out one night and find it on his own, to round everyone up who’d ever hurt her but leave their fates to her justice. 

Against his shirt, she lets out a muffled, wet laugh. When she pulls back, he doesn’t let her go far, resting his forehead against hers and cupping her face between his hands. Her eyes flutter closed when he brushes against her tattoo with his thumb, rubbing back and forth in a soothing motion. 

“It’s harder than I thought, being back in the city,” she confesses. “I keep thinking that someone’s just going to grab me and take me back. That they’ll. . .” she shakes her head, unable to speak the words. 

How she’s been acting lately slowly begins to make sense. Her jumpiness, her eagerness to take more than her fair share of watches. With the way they’re closing in on the Absolute, it’s not difficult to draw parallels between that cult and whatever group had taken her captive all those years ago. 

“I won’t let them take you,” he vows to her, pulling away slightly to better see her expression. At her look of slight disbelief, he cuts her off before she can interrupt, “And if they somehow do . . .well, I’ll just have no choice but to come after you.” 

The corners of Tav’s mouth curve up into a smile. Astarion presses a kiss to her forehead, smoothing away stray strands of hair before pulling away, but he doesn’t go far. “And don’t you think for a minute that I’m alone in thinking this way. If something happens to you? I may be the first –– and let’s face it, the most dashing –– but all of them,” he gestures to their sleeping companions a few feet away. “They’re not going to be far behind.” 

When Tav had told him that she would be at his side to take down Cazador, he hadn’t believed her, not at first. And when the others in their merry band of misfits had joined her –– joined him –– 

“It’s strange having friends, isn’t it?” she wonders quietly, tucking herself in his side. 

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he swallows once, then nods. He doesn’t need to say anything; she knows almost as well as him that this is the first time in more than two hundred years that he’s had people he can rely on. 

The two of them sit there for a few minutes, staring into the dying embers of the fire and listening to the sounds of the world around them. His brain spins with the weight of everything he’s just learned about the woman in his arms, a tight feeling balled up in the middle of his chest. 

Astarion is accustomed to wanting. But this? Caring about someone else, enough that he’s willing to burn down the world for them? That is a new feeling. . . but not an unwanted one. 

He turns his head to look down at her. Tav’s eyes are closed, her breathing having evened out just by being in his presence alone. She’s not asleep, though she’s much calmer than she had been before. A little longer, then he’ll get her up and back to her bedroll. But for now, he marvels at the trust she’s placed in him to let her walls down and let him in. She sees him –– and now, for the first time, he sees her properly, too. 

It’s not love, not yet. It may be in the future, once they’ve both healed a little more. But for now, it’s enough.