#no one understands…..I have fic ideas and everything
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obito-in-disguise · 1 day ago
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| 100 million |
Husband Megumi x germaphobe reader.
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Megumi glances down at your hands, cold from your shower. He takes one of them in his own, interlocking his fingers with yours and slowly rubbing them between his palms to warm them up.
“Why do you always take so long in there...and you always have the water freezing cold too” he grumbles, his warm hands working against yours.
You smile at his sweet gesture, ignoring the sass in his tone. "Thank you gumi"
He gives you a stern look before ultimately cracking a small smile back.
Raising your hand to his lips, he blows warm air onto your skin, rubbing gently to bring some life back into them. He knows you’re a germaphobe, and using his mouth probably isn’t your idea of hygienic, but he doesn’t really care in the moment.
You watch him blow air from his mouth unto your hands, making a face subconsciously.
He sees the scrunched up look on your face and chuckles, knowing exactly why you're doing that.
“What? worried I’m gonna infect you with my cooties? You do know we're married right? we're enshrined into each other now, I kiss you all the time, I've been inside y-”
"Christ gumi!" you cut him off, mortified. He was so reserved in public, but in private? had no inhibitions when it came to saying the wildest things.
He laughs, your reaction so entertaining to him. You still got so embarrassed, despite how long you’d been together. He releases your hands, crossing his over his chest.
“What? I’m just saying what’s true. I do all of those things to you and you’re worried about me breathing on your hand? Come on”
You huff, unclenching and clenching your now warmed hands. "I know, I know...it's more of a psychological thing"
He hums in mock understanding, letting his mind wander to all the silly rules you'd set throughout the course of your relationship.
No eating from the same silverware. No drinking from the same cup. No putting of eachother's dirty clothes together. He hadn’t seen someone so adamant about not sharing anything with anyone before.
“We’re supposed to be sharing everything. You’re just ridiculous. Why the hell can’t you eat with the same fork I just ate off of?”
You take a deep breath, bracing yourself before shouting at the top of your lungs. "A MILLIMETER OF SALIVA CONTAINS A 100 MILLION BACTERIA"
He doesn’t miss a beat, mirroring your volume. "WE GO TO POUNDTOWN EVERYNIGHT, THAT IS THE LEAST OF YOUR WORRIES"
You can't stop the giggles that escape your lips as you immediately jump to slap a hand over his mouth, you had neighbours.
He chuckles too, prying your hand off to continue embarrassing you. "We do far worse things than sharing silverware!"
You laugh harder "That's different!"
He rolls his eyes, deciding to humor you. "Pray tell, how is it different?"
"Going to poundtown is an in the moment thing..." you explains ridiculously.
Megumi doubles over with laughter, the sheer absurdity of your logic breaking him completely. He can never handle the things that come out of your mouth sometimes. They're just so bizarre.
“What the hell, I can’t even argue with that”
"That's right" you grin triumphantly. You hold up your finger as you begin to lecture him.
"You see Fushiguro, when we...get down, I don't have time to think about how much bacteria we're swapping." You shudder "but when we're eating?!! there's all the time in the world!"
He scoffs, shaking his head. He found your reaction to the very thought of sharing silverware with him, your husband, completely baffling.
“What a load of bullshit" he deadpans.
His eyes are filled with fondness as he watches you throw your head back and laugh at that, with that smile that always sends his heart racing.
Your germaphobe shenanigans were the bane of his existence but there was no one he would rather share the rest of his life with, your silly quirks and all.
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oh how I love to daydream about married life, don't disappoint me universe 🤞🏻
Check out more of my jjk fics and other stories!
like, comment or reblog! ♡
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andhumanslovedstories · 12 hours ago
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I've been thinking the kind of writing I do and the kind of reactions it gets. Some authors get goofy comics of their works. Me? I just got a comment on my Captain America: Winter Soldier fic that I helped the reader understand 9/11. I am, by the way, delighted by that.
I struggle to describe my own writing style. It's wordy, I know that, and favors a LOT of detail, to its benefit and detriment. I'm indulging this tendency for my current fic because it's fanfic and I am having a lot of fun seeing what details I write that I end up elaborating on, but my number one style goal this year is to work on brevity and a snappier pace. My style is so introspective; characters spend a lot of time reflecting on themselves. I put a lot of work into making my characters complex, even at times contradictory because I think that's true to human nature. And by god, do I think about a story's themes. Do other writers think about themes this much? Sometimes I'm like, hey brain, I'm actually good on themes. Would love to get some plot.
Not to entice all the sapiosexuals out there, but I take a very cerebral approach writing. (This does not btw mean that the fic itself will be particularly intelligent.) I'm not saying this is a good or bad way--it's one way to write. My writing can feel very cold to me. Very same-y as well. That's why writing SQQ pov is so fun, it's such a radically different voice than my usual.
The fic I'm writing now was supposed to be a lighthearted fic that was an excuse for me to practice writing a sex scene. Almost 80k words in, it's so super not that. I just can't resist the thrall of complication. Although you know, as I'm writing this, I'm not exactly sure what an "intellectual approach" to writing even means to me. I use big words? I overuse semi-colons?
Maybe it's the way that I'm so language-forward in my writing. Like, what I love doing is crafting a sentence. Someone described literature to me as writing where the main draw is the author's technical accomplishment in executing their style. I definitely favor authorial voice, to the point where the stories I write that I like least feel like balsa wood gilded over. It looks nice, but you quickly realize it's weak as hell.
There's works that clearly value style over plotting, and vice versa. You need both when you write--all plot with no style reads like a synopsis of itself and all style with no plot is imagery in pursuit of nothing. Both very boring in their own way. It's interesting how totally which one weighs more affects every part of the story. Mrs. Dalloway is not a fast-paced page turner, and a thriller doesn't halt itself so we can read really beautiful, pointless paragraphs about how the color of the sky evokes memories of a long ago time when you were so different.
Maybe what I mean is that my stories tend to evolve out of the ideas that I'm exploring. In the fic I'm writing now, I had this core conceit of misunderstanding: people failing to interpret something without knowing they're doing so. In a way, the entire story is about the hard work of moving from misunderstanding to understanding. Getting information, interpreting it, having that interpretation challenged, exploring what that challenge provokes, moving either closer or further from "the truth". Shen Qingqiu misunderstands basically everything, and basically everyone misunderstands Shen Qingqiu. What situations can I make that center on misunderstandings? I also think a lot about the concept of fault--how have people failed in the past, how are they failing in the present, and how do you make up from what you have done wrong? Do you get to just move forward? Are you always at mercy of whatever you did in the past?
So a lot of the plot of the story stems out of ways that I can bring those ideas to the forefront. When I get stuck, I think of different ways these concepts can manifest. Ming Fan's getting a whole plotline because of this. I like my writing, I do, but I’ve really been thinking about the way I write affects what I write. And then in turn the reactions I get to my writing. And then I wrote this whole post because ao3 was down and I couldn’t post my chapter. And now here we are.
Also general DVD commentary on OOC fic--I hit such a roadblock because we're very close to the point of the story where Big Things are going to happen, and I could not decide on exactly how those things should occur. I had about three ideas that I was excited about. None of them were compatible with the others and each would have very different emotional implications. It's hard to write when you're essentially juggling three different drafts. The only way I got myself to commit to one was promising myself that I could always write AUs of my own fic. I honestly doubt I'll get around to doing that, but who knows. Maybe someday there will be a fic of (spoiler warnings ig for things that aren't going to happen) this fic's version of sqq and lbh in the endless abyss together.
Also you would not imagine the amount of thought I've given which conversation should happen before the abyss and where each character relationship needs to be. I have dithered like crazy. And there's so many relationships I'm working with. I'm keeping track of Shen Qingqiu's relationship with: Luo Binghe, Liu Qingge, Yue Qingyuan, Mu Qingfang, Ming Fan, Shen Jiu, Qing Jing Peak as a whole, a couple of OCs, the System, and his concept of self. Mu Qingfang has not been on screen for a minute but it's not because he doesn't haunt my plot outline. Sorry, bud, everyone else just keeps getting more pressing stuff.
#b.
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theswanqu22n · 2 days ago
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— WIFI PROBLEMS.
fluff james patrick march fic.
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summary: You stayed at the Hotel Cortez but you have problems with the WiFi.
credits to @vizjpmdose who gave me the inspiration thanks to one of her posts to write this.
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You checked into the Hotel Cortez almost two hours ago, as you had been struggling with your laptop to keep connecting to the Wi-Fi connection. You had an urgent job due and you didn't want to get fired at all, but who are you going to ask for help with the wifi if the people at the front desk on the lobby looked old enough to understand, and the person named Liz at the front desk had just told you she went to get her nails done.
What a headache, and there you were again, clicking on the mouse to try to reconnect. Finally, tired, you got up from the small desk that the room you were staying in offered you and grabbed the phone that went straight line to the lobby. It took them maybe 2 minutes to respond; aren't they supposed to reply right away? What kind of service was this?.
You were surprised to hear that the person who answered was a man, his voice sounded strange and as if it were made of silk... if that explains it, nah, that was mid-atlantic accent for sure.
"hello?" The voice sounded like it was almost singing, but you completely ignored that and decided to get to the point.
"I've been trying to keep my internet connection but the signal is just bad...and very slow. I have to hand in a paperwork before 5pm and it's already 4pm! Please someone help with this." you said almost hoping not to sound desperate but to make it obvious that you are upset.
The person on the other end of the line seemed to be moving something on the phone as there was a lot of noise.
"hello?" You asked again, quite annoyed.
"I'm sorry...Miss..., Shall I know which room you'r staying in?" He asked sounding nervous.
10 minutes passed when all you could see was a tall guy with well-combed black hair and a strange mustache that looked like Mr. Gomez from the Addams Family, and a black tuxedo...and his pale skin stood out a lot.
"It's a...real shame ma'am, my employees do everything except work" He let out a nervous chuckle that marked his dimples, his boba pearl eyes quickly scanning around your room. "James Patrick March, the...owner of the hotel." He introduced himself giving a small bow which you just ignored.
"...Y/N" you introduced yourself too, and waved your hand for him to come in, he looked you almost directly in the eyes when he stepped a foot inside your room.
"Heh...so, what do you say the problem is?" he asked nervously, you could even notice some sweat on his forehead. You raised your eyebrows and walked over to the small wifi device that was connected to the nightstand next to your bed, and you could see how James' eyes were completely wide open...as if he had seen a ghost himself...
"This, my laptop keeps disconnecting and at this point I'm getting desperate" you said annoyed, you needed a solution and to be honest... it seemed like he didn't even know.
"Yes, but what is that... little device you're pointing out to me? The lamp?" he asked, coming closer while still smiling. His smile looked so forced that you didn't hesitate to arch a eyebrow.
"No, it's the...wifi" you said, clarifying as if you hadn't said at the beginning that this was your problem.
"Ah! You new generation, these jokes nowadays..." He smiled looking away almost looking for an escape.
"No! Damn it I need you to fix the wifi connection before 5pm or I'll give you one fucking star because I already have enough with the amount of flies that wanted to get in through the window!" You raised your voice, you really didn't want to, but your job would be in serious trouble if you didn't send in your paperwork.
The man leaned his head back, opening his eyes wider and stopping smiling. He literally looked scared... Was the man scared of a living creature Or maybe because the man had no idea what you were asking of him.
"Explain the situation to me again, let's not get...excited, shall we?" He offered you some calm again, to which you sighed and looked away, biting the inside of your cheek, and then began to explain again.
You noticed how his hands remained at his sides, offering you the view of his veins that were surely more exalted from his nerves.
"I have some paperwork due for work before 5pm, it's already..." you looked up at the locked screen of your laptop where the time was displayed. "4:20pm...and the wifi isn't working at all, it keeps disconnecting or even running slow, can you fix it?"
James kept looking at you with that awkward smile and his eyes wide open, like he was zooming out. He took a deep gulp and then said.
"I'll look for Miss Evers to resolve the situation...I'll be right back."
And then he quickly walked out of the room, literally running away from you, leaving you believing that he would solve this.
Not knowing that Miss Evers is also an entity from decades ago that lives under the same rock and is... his maid. How would she know that?.
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rizlowwritessortof · 2 days ago
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Runaway
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Square #6 for @jacklesversebingo 😊
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You left months ago with no explanation, no contact but a cryptic text to Sam saying "I'm okay." Now you're back, but will Dean forgive you for running away?
Prompt for this one - 'I can give you what you so desperately desire' - in bold in the fic
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 2501
Warnings: Angst, makeup sex, brief descriptions of bloody character death IN DREAM ONLY (happy ending, I promise)
Divider by @firefly-graphics
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Sam takes your bag when he opens the door, a kind smile flitting quickly across his lips. He follows you down the stairs, and you stop near the large map table, glancing around the room. It looks like home, but it feels uncomfortable, like you don’t quite fit anymore.
You startle a bit when Dean suddenly walks into the room, his steps coming to a halt when he sees you standing there. He turns immediately, taking a couple of steps back the way he came, but then turning back around to enter the room again, his brows drawn together in an angry frown as he glares at you.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Dean.” Sam’s voice is a soft rebuke, but there is also understanding behind it. “Maybe this should wait.”
Sam’s hand on your shoulder is the only thing that keeps you from turning to retreat back up the stairs and away from Dean’s expression. The weight of it is too much for you to bear, and you stare at the floor. Hurt has stolen the light from his eyes, clenched his jaw, pressed his lips into a thin line. He looks hard, unapproachable, and you don’t have it in you at the moment to try and break through the seemingly impenetrable shell. You don’t know if you deserve to.
“Come on,” Sam says, urging you forward. “Just get some rest tonight and we’ll deal with everything tomorrow.” Dean stands there still as a statue, silent and cold, arms folded across his chest as Sam ushers you by, guiding you down the hall to one of the many bedrooms. Obviously you won’t be staying in the one you had occupied before you left – the one you had shared with Dean.
Sam closes the door behind him when he leaves you, and you stare around the room. No personal touches, only the bed with the typical Men of Letters-issue bedding, dresser, desk, sink. It feels cold, not exactly unwelcoming, but not warm and inviting, either. That whisper in the back of your mind telling you this was a monumentally stupid idea is getting louder.
You take a quick shower, then go back to the room and crawl into bed even though you know you probably won’t sleep. You toss and turn, stare blindly at the ceiling, but when you pick up your phone and see that it’s two a.m., you finally give up. You pull a flannel shirt on over your tank top and sleep pants, the decanter of whiskey calling to you from the library. A little liquid painkiller seems just the thing you need.
You walk into the library, straight to the liquor cart and pour yourself a generous splash of whiskey. As you turn, you flinch, startled, almost dropping your glass. “Damn it, Dean, what are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me!”
“Apparently I’m doing the same thing you are,” he replies sarcastically.
“You’re sitting here in the dark. Lurking.”
He lets out an annoyed sigh. “I live here. I’m not lurking. I can be wherever I want. What’s your excuse?”
“I just – I needed a drink.”
Dean rises from his chair, moving past you to pour his glass nearly full. “Uh-huh. I got that.” He turns to face you as you turn around and start to move back towards the hall and the safety of your room. “Yeah, just run away. That’s what you do.”
You stop and take a gulp of your drink, almost relishing the burn in your throat. “I thought we were dealing with this tomorrow.”
Dean lets out a derisive little snort. “Well, it’s technically tomorrow. So maybe you wanna tell me why you left?”
You turn back around, gripping your glass so tight you’re surprised it doesn’t crack under the pressure. You’re searching for words, but he doesn’t give you a chance.
“I just wanna know why.” You can’t bear to look at him, but you know his expression from the sound of his voice, the volume increasing with every word until he’s shouting. “Why you wouldn’t answer your phone, or even send us a text – oh, except the one where you told Sam ‘I’m okay.’ I wanna know what the hell I did that made you leave without a goddamn word!”
“You almost fucking died!” you scream back at him, your eyes burning with unshed tears, and you look at him, finally. His eyes go wide at your words, and when you go on, your voice is shaking, quiet in the wake of the shouting. “You came back to save me, and it almost got you killed.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, confusion clear on his face.
“The last hunt we went on together, the vamps. One of them had me down, he was latched onto my neck, I thought I was done. You came and pulled him off, killed him, but there was another one behind you – with an axe. Don’t you remember?”
“Yeah, I remember – it was a rough hunt. But that’s just…” He begins moving towards you as you drain your glass and slam it down on the nearby library table, cutting him off in mid-sentence.
“That axe missed you by inches, Dean. I couldn’t yell to warn you, and that – that thing almost took your head off.” You angrily swipe tears from your face as you go on. “I still have nightmares. Only in my nightmares you don’t duck in time and you fall at my feet, half of your face gone, your blood everywhere, all over me, and I know that it’s my fault! That if you hadn’t had to come back and save me, you’d still be alive!”
“Jesus,” he swears under his breath, taking hold of your arm. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“I don’t know. I was just so afraid, afraid that if I didn’t leave… I was afraid that the next time it might really happen. I couldn’t live with that.” You’re still quietly crying, and Dean puts his arms around you, pulling you close, your words muffled against his chest. “I thought it would be easier to live without you if I knew that I wasn’t around to get you killed.” You pull away from him, looking into his eyes, your chest aching. “I knew I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch you die. I couldn’t live with that.”
He’s staring back at you, your pain reflected in his eyes, the tip of his tongue darting out over his lips as he leans closer and closer, finally kissing you gently, lingering there until you visibly relax against him. When you part, he looks down at you, his thumb sweeping the remnants of your tears away. “You look beat. We should get some sleep.”
You look up at him with a weary smile, your eyes suddenly feeling very heavy, and you nod in agreement. He leads you down the hall, opening the door to his room and urging you inside with an arm around your waist. “Are you sure?” you ask softly, and he turns to you, cupping your face in his hands.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” He bends to kiss you, his lips clinging to yours, then folds back the covers and lets you crawl in before joining you. He reaches for you and pulls you close, your head on his shoulder, holding you as you fall asleep together.
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You slam into the floor, flat on your back, the breath knocked from your lungs as the vampire lands on top of you and punches you. Your head rocks to the side, and fresh pain screams through you as needle-sharp teeth sink deep into your neck. You struggle, gasping for air, kicking and fighting, but he’s too strong, and your vision begins to blur.
Suddenly, the monster is ripped upwards, his weight suddenly gone from your body, and his blood sprays over you as his head goes flying off to the side, his body shoved away to land on the floor with a thud. Dean is moving towards you, speaking to you, but his voice seems muted. Your eyes grow wide as you see someone moving up behind him, and you try to cry out, but your voice is nothing but a squeak. Your vision is still hazy, but you see the figure behind Dean lift something – an axe?
Dean says your name, turning to face you, putting a hand on your shoulder to shake you gently. “Hey, hey – wake up, baby. You’re safe, you’re home.” Your eyes fly open as you suck in a deep breath, your hands clutching at Dean’s t-shirt. Then you pull back, your hands reaching to search his face, panic in your chest. “See, sweetheart? I’m okay. It was a dream.”
You close your eyes in relief, letting the panic subside slowly before you blow out a breath and dare to look at him again. He is watching you closely, concern in his eyes, and you lean in to crash your lips into his. He groans softly and hugs you tight against his chest, slanting his mouth over yours, his tongue sweeping over your lips, urging you to open up to him. You whimper, your hands moving down to slip under his shirt, your palms gliding over his smooth, warm skin.
You are suddenly ravenous for him, and you move your free hand down to frantically yank at your pants. You break free from your kiss, your voice desperate and breathless. “Dean – help…” He stares at you, heat in his eyes, for a second before rolling you to your back. Then he sits up, both hands reaching to pull your pants and panties down as you kick them free and push the covers away with your feet. “Please…”
He shoves his sweats down until he springs free and he settles between your thighs, his cock prodding at your softness, then filling you up in one smooth, quick thrust. Neither of you are going to last long, your need for each other is too fierce, and you strain to hold him close as he fucks into you hard and fast. He pants out a ‘fuck’ when you call out his name, your head spinning as you come, clawing at his shoulders and arching up underneath him. He floods you with his release as you pulse around him, clinging to him with all your strength as you fall apart together. When he finally finishes, he lets his weight rest on you, your arms still wrapped around him, tears wetting your lashes from behind your closed eyes.
“I missed you so much,” you manage to say, and Dean raises up to look at you, bending to kiss each eye before he captures your lips, your kiss touched with the taste of your tears.
“I missed you, too,” he whispers before kissing you again, slow and sweet, until you both need to move and he parts from you with a quiet groan, adjusting his pants and settling on his back. “C’mere.” He waits for you to turn and lift your head, putting his arms around you to hold you tight, your head on his shoulder. You lay there silently for a while, his hand capturing yours and holding it against his chest. You are basking in absolute peace, feeling safe and warm and right for the first time in months. He gives your hand a squeeze and speaks softly, his voice rumbling in his chest beneath your hand. It feels amazing. “So – what made you decide to come back?”
You smile a little sheepishly, even though he can’t see your face at the moment. “You’ll probably laugh at me.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Well – I walked home from my job at the bar the other night, and I took a different route than usual. I saw this little occult shop – you know, the kind with ‘Fortunes Told’ and ‘Palm Reading’ painted on the windows.” He chuckles softly, and you continue. “I decided, what the hell? Walked in, and the woman was getting ready to close. So I said ‘I’ll come back another time.’ She turned around and took one look at me, and said, ‘No, please. Sit.’ So I did. She held out her hand, and I gave her mine, and she ran her fingers over my palm. Then she looked me in the eye and said, ‘I can give you what you so desperately desire.’”
You shift a little so you can look up at his face as you continue your story. “I started to get up, told her I wasn’t interested in buying a potion or a spell, but she grabbed my hand to stop me. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I am not trying to sell you a potion or spell. If you do as I say, you can have what your heart is crying out for.’ She squeezed my hand, and said, ‘You must go home.’ I said, ‘Well, I’m on my way home right now,’ but she shook her head and said, ‘No. You must go home. To Kansas.’ I started to shake my head and pull away again, but she wouldn’t let go of my hand. ‘You must go home. Your heart knows this. Listen to what it is saying,’ she said. And she wouldn’t even take any money.”
“Seriously?”
You nod. “Yes. And I fought it for a couple of days, but I finally – I knew she was right. I knew I needed to come back. I knew I needed to make things right with you. Even if you couldn’t forgive me for running away, I knew I needed to try.”
He leans down to kiss you, lingering for a long moment before pulling back to look at you, his fingers brushing your hair back from your eyes. “I’m glad you listened to her. Just promise me something.”
You look into his eyes, biting at your lip and nodding. “Promise me you’ll never leave like that again. Promise me you’ll come and talk to me, or talk to Sam. I went fucking crazy when you left and I couldn’t find you. I thought I…”
“I’m so sorry, Dean. I promise. I promise that will never happen again.” You take a deep breath before going on. “You should know, I’m not going to hunt anymore.”
He nods, looking away from you for a moment, his jaw working as he gets his emotions under control before he faces you again.“Baby, I don’t care if you hunt. I never did. I don’t care what you do, I just want you to be happy.” His arms tighten around you as he continues. “And I want you to remember that you can talk to me. I just want you here with me, whatever that looks like, I don’t care. I need you.”
You have tears in your eyes yet again as you tilt your face to kiss him. “I need you, too. And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
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Tags for my lovelies: 
@ironreviewangel    @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82 
 @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74   @maliburenee     @mrsjenniferwinchester   @yeehawbitchs  
 @emily-winchester  @hobby27    spnbaby-67   @zepskies  @ladysparkles78  
@alwaystiredandconfused   @just-another-busyfangirl    @muhahaha303    @deansimpalababy    @kr804573  
@suckitands33    @ej13928    @lmhf1
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antinousletmehit · 2 days ago
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HeyyyHow are you doing?
I totally haven’t been stalking you account for any new fanfics. NOPE
But the whole idea with antinous having a sister actually gave me inspiration for my epic au (oc or reader idk still thinking about it) and I have been thinking….
What if- and hear me out
After reader realised how weak? (Well certainly no as strong as her brother) she is, she started to learn on her own (this is before both of them going to the palace)
So she started copying his stance from the ring so she can fight, practiced of her own without her brother knowing somehow (maybe he left her alone because antinous doesn’t learn from his mistakes).
So during one of these endeavours perhaps Pandora got hurt? And didn’t know how to treat it properly? Or just enough so it wouldn’t kill her then went fo sleep all the while antinous not knowing. And maybe in the morning he saw she was a bit feverish and red as well as wheezing a bit then when he asks her why she didn’t tell him and then reader’s reply is like “I didn’t want to be a bother since I caused us a lot of trouble in the past” (as shown in their past with her stealing attempt and what not)
idk I love angst/hurt/comfort and what not (mostly angst)- idk if this is considered as a ramble or a request I just wanted someone to ramble to
(Sorry if this is confusing English is not my first language and I apologise for any spelling mistakes )
Have a lovely day, dear! 🌹
Hiii!! Dw your English was perfectly fine. Also it can be both Oc and reader, Aphrodites gamble used to be just my ocs backstory but then I wanted to turn it into a x reader that’s why sometimes you’ll see the name “pandora” in some fics.
AHHHH I LOVE THIS IDEAAA. Antinous is a jerk so he’d definitely not notice his sister getting hurt. The ring is supposed to be the reason as to why antinous ended up being shitty, and we can see in Aphrodites gamble he’s very protective of her due to the fact he feels bad about everything that happened before the palace life.
——
Blood welled from the cut, but she bit her lip and forced herself to her feet. “It’s just a scratch,” she muttered, refusing to cry. “Antinous doesn’t cry when he gets hurt.” Still, the ache in her arm throbbed, and by the time she made her way back to the small shack where she and her brother were staying, she was exhausted, chilled to the bone, and in pain. Antinous was already asleep, his arm draped over his face as he snored softly. She slid under her thin blanket, clutching her injured arm to her chest. “He doesn’t need to know,” she murmured to herself as her eyelids grew heavy. “It’s nothing.”
By morning, her body was burning.
Antinous woke to the sound of her faint groans, his brows furrowing as he rolled over to check on her. “Sister?” he called, shaking her shoulder gently. She stirred, her face flushed and covered in sweat. “I’m fine,” she croaked, though her voice was weak and shaky. Antinous narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening. “You don’t look fine.”
“It’s nothing,” she insisted, trying to sit up, but the effort made her wince. That’s when he noticed it—the makeshift bandage wrapped awkwardly around her arm, stained with dried blood. Without a word, he grabbed her arm and unwrapped it, revealing the inflamed, swollen gash beneath.
“Y/N!” he barked, his voice a mix of anger and fear. “What the hell happened?”
She flinched at his tone, tears springing to her eyes. “I—I was just trying to train. Like you. I didn’t want to bother you…”
“You didn’t want to bother me?” Antinous repeated incredulously. “You’ve got a festering wound, and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”
“It wasn’t that bad!” She argued weakly, though her voice wavered. “I thought I could handle it.” Antinous ran a hand through his hair, pacing the tiny room. “Handle it? you could’ve died! Do you even understand that? What if it got worse? What if I didn’t wake up in time?”
Tears streamed down her face now. “I just wanted to be strong like you! I didn’t want you to think I’m useless!”
Antinous froze, her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He turned back to her, kneeling at her side. “Y/n,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion, “you’re not useless. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“But you’re always protecting me,” she whispered. “I wanted to protect myself… and you.”
Antinous sighed, his anger melting into guilt as he gently cupped her feverish face. “You don’t have to protect me, Pandora. That’s my job. You’re my little sister. You’re supposed to let me take care of you.”
She sniffled, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, his fingers brushing her damp hair away from her face. “Don’t apologize. Just… don’t hide stuff like this from me again, alright? You’re all I’ve got, y/n. I can’t lose you.”
—-
Yea that’s the Drabble for today gang
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voxofthevoid · 2 days ago
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2024 Fic Review
Tagged by @m34gs. Thank you, friend 💖
It's been a while since I've had the time and energy to tackle a tag game, but I really wanted to do this.
Statistics
My Top 5 Fics by Hits:
I'm assuming this is only for 2024, so going by how Ao3 sorts fics based on the year, we've got these:
the way it follows you home, the stories i never told: JJK, Gojou/Yuuji/Gojou time travel fix-it. Gojou Satoru and Itadori Yuuji travel back in time to avert an apocalyptic future. Sixteen-year-old Satoru has opinions about the whole thing.
(let me be clear) every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered: JJK, Gojou/Yuuji, canon-divergent kidnapping fic. Gojou Satoru kidnaps a teenager, supposedly for his own good.
there’s a lover in the story, but the story’s still the same: JJK, Gojou/Yuuji, de-aged Gojou. Shortly before the Goodwill Event, Yuuji finds that his teacher has de-aged to his seventeen-year-old self. He adapts a little too well.
baby blue, they paid you to take my youth and use it up: JJK, Gojou, Yuuji, role reversal omegaverse. Satoru’s in heat; it’s Yuuji’s problem somehow.
everything burned, as promised: JJK, Gojou/Yuuji, time travel fuck-it. Satoru goes north. Yuuji is a casualty.
My Most Bookmarked Fic:
It's the way it follows you home, the stories i never told by a significant margin.
How Many Words I Wrote in 2024:
540,076
There's a breakdown here.
Question Stuff
1. What was the most surprising thing about writing in 2024?
The fact that I not only conceived of and tackled but also actually finished my ten-year anniversary project. That was kind of insane, especially considering my preferred way of writing—which, these days, involves just writing one fic from start to end with no external factors considered. It was a fuckload of fun though!
2. What was the most enjoyable to write?
It was definitely bloodstains on the collar means just don't ask—a no-powers sukuita+goyuu AU featuring Sukuna as Yuuji's uncle and Gojou as his high school teacher. It was my first no-powers AU for JJK, and while that itself isn't an appealing factor, figuring out their dynamics in this context was incredibly fun and also helped me get a better understanding of the characters, especially Sukuna.
3. Which fic is the most underrated?
Hmmm, I don't know if I'd call any of them underrated, but going by the numbers in relation to my personal fondness, it'd be this is the wrong story.
The concept is one I'd wanted to tackle (but was wary of fucking up) for a while, so getting a finished product I was/am proud of feels pretty great. I'm also very fond of some of the ideas I've worked into the fic, as well as the imagery and metaphors used. That said, it's a fucky concept with graphic vore (erotic consensual cannibalism variety), so I'm not surprised that most people are giving it a wide berth. Those who did read it have been very lovely in their responses 💗
4. Which fic(s) had something "cut" or an idea that never happened?
The anniversary project eventually resulted in four ideas (goyuu sex ed ft. poor Megumi, the aforementioned vorey fic, teen Gojou and the PR in a love triangle with Yuuji, and the Higuruma/Yuuji fic) being struck off my larger list of plot bunnies/ideas to write.
5. Which fic(s) did you want to write but didn't get around to?
Well, the current count is 95! So fuck me, I guess.
6. Any WIPs that never got published?
Oh, so many. Considering just the ones finished and the ones published in 2024—
taking the flesh is the only virtue (posted in 2025)
i could keep your bed warm, otherwise i’m useless (unposted)
bloodstains on the collar means just don’t ask (unposted)
the brute fact of flesh awaiting our teeth (unposted)
7. Share a snippet from a WIP fic?
I'm only working on one fic at present (...been working on it for months at this point), and this is the latest bit:
The twitch of his own cock calls him out on the lie. It’s no distraction. Satoru feels every bit an animal as Yuuji, speared on cock and so tenderly brutalized. “That looks fun,” comes an unwanted interruption. “You gonna share?” Satoru wraps his limbs more firmly around Yuuji, sighing through the flare of hurt. “Keep your oversized paws to yourself.” A mean-sounding chuckle answers him, followed by its owner emerging from the undergrowth. Out of the corner of his eye, Satoru watches Tōji survey the scene, not missing how he lingers on their naked bodies with unwarranted intensity. At that angle, he can’t see the blood-wet marriage between Yuuji’s face and Satoru’s shoulder. That changes when Yuuji raises his head and snarls at Tōji.
8. Which fic was the one you were most excited to write?
I'm pretty sure that was (this is also part of the story) how the story changes, but man, after a four-chapter outline turned into a four-part 24-chapter fic, I was just glad for it to be over 🤣
9. Fic hopes for the New Year?
There are a number of ideas I'd like to tackle properly. But in general, I just want to keep writing for JJK the way I have been and enjoy the company of my fellow fans.
Tagging (no pressure) @tozettastone @cursedvibes @kairos-polaris @actualalligator @naamah-beherit @joeys-piano @rifle-yes and anyone else who wants to give it a go!
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iwoulddieforher · 3 days ago
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Kiss it (Softball to the Ribs) | Alex Cabot/Casey Novak
Inspired by @jeongonion 's idea of Alex & Casey going against eachother in court
This is the other part of Softball to the Ribs (Kiss it) written from Alex's perspective! I've never tried to write a dual sided fic like this, so :) This part features more context as well as Olivia as the sweetheart she is.
Warnings: Exercise dependence as a means of self-harm, canon-typical cases, recovering from shooting (no descriptions of shooting, though), implied use of the f slur
Summary: Alex has finally recovered enough for her uncle to permit her back into the workplace- but her first case is as a defense lawyer, against her ex... whatever Casey Novak was to her. All seems well in court until she realizes Casey hasn't settled in the way she assumed she had.
Informal summary: Alex just wants Casey to be okay.
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Alex Cabot felt as though she had been thrown aggressively into a washing machine with the way everything had flipped for her so suddenly.
The gunshot had claimed everything she valued about herself. Her unshakable demeanor, her facade of untouchability, her sense of safety, and, as if that wasn't bad enough, the movement in her arm.
The doctors explained it as a fragment of the bullet having branched out to sever one of her tendons, and when she woke up after life-saving surgery she was greeted with the knowledge it wasn't over and she was forced into a very rigorous regimen of physical therapy over the course of a month to regain the lost mobility.
"Maybe more?" She had anxiously shifted her gaze from doctor to nurse when they told her, met only with resignation.
"Maybe more," The doctor confirmed, "there's no way to understand how well you'll be able to heal until you do. Full recovery could take months."
"Months." She echoed, staring down at the hand she could barely move.
She was diagnosed with Acute Stress Disorder only days later, when she had called her father sobbing over the phone when a tray of something had dropped loudly in the hallway of her hospital room. It sounded too much like a gunshot and she couldn't explain to a frazzled intern until she just screamed at the poor guy to get out and called her father instead. Her dignity was now stolen from her, too.
Olivia had visited her in the hospital a little while later, when she had finally used to phone to scroll through the barrage of notifications she had been ignoring.
"Hey, you." Liv had greeted warmly, handing Alex her coffee order and a croissant in a takeout box which the attorney gleefully accepted. It was one of her better days, she didn't feel as anxious, and Olivia was warm and safe and she trusted her wholeheartedly.
"Hey," she greeted back, opening the takeout box with her usable hand and picking it up without further pause. It was a lot better than the hospital food she had been choking on.
"How's it going?" Olivia asked her casually, settling on the side of her hospital bed, and Alex scoffed softly.
"That's what I should be asking you. Nothing happens here."
"Well, it's been- as it normally is," came the brunette's response, and Alex shrugged to herself and accepted that. It's hard to say working for SVU was 'good' or 'bad'.
"My replacement?" Alex cut right to the point and it was Olivia's turn to scoff, but it was good-naturedly.
"Well- she's fiery." She muttered, "She showed up to crime scenes and runs everything herself. It's like she's trying to put us on a leash."
Alex's eyebrows raised but she grinned. "Oh? Maybe I should take notes from her if she managed to leash you. You need it."
Olivia swatted the air in front of Alex with a roll of her eyes, but she smiled softly. "She's not all bad. I'm pretty hard on her, I guess. She's not you."
"No one else is, Olivia."
"That's true enough."
"What's her name?"
"Casey Novak."
"Oh." Alex stopped eating, settling the croissant back down in the box after a hesitant pause. That name meant a lot to her. With a twinge of guilt, she remembered skipping Casey's text to respond to Olivia's.
"Do you know her?" Olivia asked, and Alex wished she hadn't.
Casey was an enthralling, redheaded fireball that Alex had been watching since the first time she had realized the DA's office had gained another newbie. Her talents were wasted on white collar, that much was definitely a fact, but apparently Casey was well settled from the second she stepped into the office space.
She had grinned at Alex while drunk one night at an office party- the DA's office tried to hold one every once in a while, to promote some sense of community or solidarity between people with jobs so complex they could only really be understood by one another.
And understand one another, they certainly did.
It had started with simple things, like subconsciously registering when Casey took breaks for coffee and trying as much as she could- which wasn't very often- to time it appropriately to arrive in the break room at the same time so she could listen to Casey ramble about some stupid man with some stupid problems.
It progressed to seeking her out, and realizing she was being sought out, Casey leaving little items- a loaf of bread she left a note saying she had accidentally doubled the recipe of, Alex leaving a well-done sticky note when she heard Casey had prosecuted an especially difficult case and the like.
Alex at some point had realized she was, in fact, actively courting her, and it digressed to making stops at her office in the night. "I work better while with company," she had justified it, and Casey had laughed with a raised eyebrow but had no complaints about letting Alex claim the other half of her desk.
At some point, her coffee order was waiting for her, still hot because Casey could estimate what time she'd arrive at, one half of the white collar's desk cleared as if saved permanently for her just in case.
And then one night Alex hadn't managed to ensure justice was appropriately served and in comfort, Casey ended up on her desk, and Alex couldn't have been more pleased with how the taste of the redhead's skin between her teeth made her forget whatever she had previously been worried about.
She had kissed her goodbye and hadn't seen her since then. She had gotten shot a few days after.
"I do know her," Alex answered Olivia instead, vaguely, and Benson knew better than to push.
"Okay. Well, she's doing fine, but I can't wait to have you back."
A couple weeks later, when she was due to return, her uncle had sat her down and told her that in fact, unfortunately, he would not be allowing her back in. Off the record, but she'd be vanishing instead.
"I don't understand," Alex tried to argue, but he pointed at her arm as evidence and she shielded it with her other with a self-righteous glare. "I'm ready to go back to work," she insisted regardless.
"You have a stress disorder." He said firmly, and Alex flinched. "Was your diagnosis repealed yet?"
"No, but things like that-"
"How do you expect to control a courtroom when you can't control your brain or your arm?"
"Uncle, I assure you, I-"
"Alexandra." He reprimanded her, harsh as always. "This isn't about you. I can't risk the mistakes you could make due to your state as a mar on the Cabot name."
It wasn't really about her- it never was, with him. To anyone else who may say this to her, she'd raise a brow and tell them to get lost, but she couldn't argue with her elder male family members. Not her uncle, anyway. He called the district attorney for her, right there, and told him she was extending her leave indefinitely, and to reassign her position permanently.
She wished she could've driven herself there so she could grip the steering wheel as hard as she could, but she knew one hand's knuckles wouldn't clench around it the way she wanted it to, even though she could now make shaky movements of her shoulder to some degree.
She briefly considered calling Casey, calling someone- but what would she tell them?
Hey, Casey, Cragen, everyone I know, I'm such a wreck now I permanently have to leave my position- I hope you settled in without me, because I can't come back- also, I can't move my arm, I can't control my head, and I feel like a little kid again being scolded by my uncle, so, unfortunately, I have no clue what to do with my life now and I'm going to go hide.
So she didn't tell them. She texted Olivia 'need space, don't ask', trusted her to spread the information on, and then curled into her apartment.
She left her apartment only to go to physical therapy or mental therapy, and her phone was on do not disturb for over two months with her father and her uncle as the only two authorized to override it. No one else needed to know how much of a wreck she was.
Time did heal wounds, despite how bitterly she regarded that fact.
After two months she could move her arm well enough that she'd only need to meet her physical therapist every month, and to the unknowing eye, it didn't seem like she had any issue. Her diagnosis had been repealed- she had to purse her lips when she thought about it though because she had not answered the diagnostic entirely honestly in her hast to be once again regarded as normal.
She wanted to be normal so, so badly.
Alex started texting her uncle daily, literally- once a day, at exactly noon, she would text him,
← Good Afternoon. I feel ready to work again.
And then she'd curl up under the covers with a very dissatisfied huff, flexing her hand over and over and hating how much effort it took for her to do so.
And she stayed like that until she got a call from her uncle, who disgruntledly told her he'd let her take a case that involved the daughter of one of his college buddies if it meant she'd shut the hell up.
Playing defense left an odd taste in Alex's mouth, but a case was a case- an opportunity to help someone- so she agreed to at least meet with the woman.
"It's my husband, he-" Ms. Connings' voice broke, and Alex sympathetically handed her a tissue, meeting in the woman's apartment because Alex had no workspace to invite her into.
"He-?" Alex prompted, and Ms. Connings nodded after blowing her nose into the provided napkin.
"He's really manipulative- he's trying to steal my kids." She looked up at Alex with wide eyes, and Alex felt her heart move. "He had this whole sexual fantasy thing where he wanted me to hurt him, and he's trying to spin the whole thing to frame me."
"I've got you," Alex hummed, "I understand. I know this may be difficult, but we need to talk everything out."
This case provided Alex with what she so desperately wanted- a chance to prove herself, but also, a chance to fix something. Save someone. Reassure her of her power and her worth by bringing something that was tarnished and salvaging the parts that mattered.
She felt very lost, but in every conversation with the defendant, she started to regain a little of her confidence. She could help. She could make sure this woman didn't lose what she had.
It didn't matter so much that once her determination had grown, the woman's mannerisms and phrasing shifted Alex's stomach uncomfortably, but, she supposed, that didn't matter. It wasn't her job now.
Showing up at the courthouse as a defense lawyer was a weird feeling. She was forced into small talk with several people, which had her arrive slightly late to the judge's chambers, but when she pushed open the door her eyes weren't drawn to the judge's apologetically.
No, they were drawn straight to Casey.
Her hair had changed- instead of stark red curls around her face, she had bangs and had straightened her hair out to curl up at the ends. It looked unbelievably sweet, despite the cold look on her face Alex had already assumed she'd find. She swallowed as she remembered Casey's warm huff when she realized Alex's fingers in her curls when the white-collar attorney had gone down between Alex's thighs meant she'd have to bike home with messy hair.
In a slightly oversized blazer- or, at least, it seemed like it was from the size of the sleeves, Casey was perched in the chair opposite the judge, and although returning the judge's attention finally Alex could not move her eyes off of her.
Casey refuted the notion that they knew each other so firmly that Alex wanted to argue against it, for a split second, but that kind of argument in front of a judge would not bode well at all. She felt hurt, but to some degree, she supposed she understood it. If Casey wanted to pretend they hadn't happened, she was within her right.
It didn't mean Alex couldn't watch her, though. And watch, she certainly did.
She watched as Casey prowled, strutted around the floor of the court building like a leopard about the pounce whenever she elicited the response she needed from a witness, the way her emerald eyes gleamed as she studied the jurors and softened when she glanced at the plaintiff. She had settled into Alex's former position well- better than anyone else would've, even.
Alex tried very hard not to be jealous, not to scowl when Casey made the exact same moves she knew she would've made if it was her up there. It wasn't her place.
Nothing really seemed to be her place anymore. But she could do this, she could defend this client, she could do that.
And then, she watched Casey get verbally degraded by her client.
Alex was entirely unaware of how her client had even known Casey was sapphic, but she hoped very desperately it had nothing to do with anything she was a part of.
She scrambled to try to find Casey to apologize personally on behalf of Ms. Connings' actions, but the redhead had vanished the second the recess was called and Alex was too bashful to use any form of digital communications seeing as the last ones that had been exchanged were Casey's plead for her to answer back.
"So," she said, hours later in a cell, not even trying to hide the resentment in her voice, "what the hell was that about?"
"She was provoking me," the woman growled, looking like a pitbull about to snap Alex's arm off, "you should've objected to whatever she was saying- you should've stopped it- spending the night in this decrepit box is your fault."
Alex sighed, rubbing her temples, trying not to argue.
"You're my lawyer! You're supposed to be on my side!"
"I am on your side," Alex reprimanded, "but you're not helping your own case right now."
The woman stopped, stared, and then broke into sobs. The desperate version of Alex who had been clinging to the idea she could save someone, she could work again, she could feel the rush of pride when she got someone the justice they deserved- that Alex would've crumbled, sighed, and waited it out. But Alex was now disillusioned with crocodile tears.
It was her job to see the duration of this case though, so she still sighed as she would've and waited as she would've if she was sympathetic. But internally she wasn't. She'd ensure this woman met the standard of legal expertise she could offer, but that was it.
Strangely, this turn of events had changed something in her. The emotional investment she had placed into this woman and her case in order to solve the turmoil within herself trickled out, slowly but surely, with every insult or half-truth she heard her client spit out. She didn't like being defense, she didn't like being chosen cases for nepotistic reasons, and she realized she'd been projecting her issues which was very unbecoming of a lawyer. She felt rather guilty about that.
She comforted Ms. Connings to the best of her ability and then left, preparing her arguments for the next day, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if tomorrow would be the day Casey wore heels.
She had liked it when Casey wore heels- it accentuated the curves of her calves nicely. Alex wasn't sure why she had been so adamant about wearing exclusively flats for the past few days.
She pursed her lips when the ADA showed up the next day in loafers.
The trial, although complicated and intricate, was over relatively quickly. Alex did not want to draw it out beyond what was necessary. She had defended within the law of their land as best as she had managed, and despite the twinge of desperation that she really wanted to win the first case she took after the shooting, she resigned to accept the verdict without emotion.
"Guilty."
Alex swallowed, bowing her head for a long second. She felt Olivia appear beside her, the detective's hand on her shoulder, and she turned around with a quick tug of the eyebrows to signal her gratitude.
"It was anyone's game," Liv justified, and Alex half-shrugged. It had been. It was very surprising Casey had won this, actually, with the stigma surrounding cases like these- but at the very least, perhaps she'd be able to see the glint of triumph in Casey's eyes.
That's what she was thinking when her gaze roamed from Olivia's sympathetic face to Casey's figure, and it struck Alex immediately that something seemed wrong.
Casey was being wrapped in a tight, awkward hug by the defendant- Alex had been there before, the more emotional victims always went for a grab when the trial was over, and it was always somewhat cumbersome. But despite her facing the opposite direction, the redhead's body language read as far different- she looked in pain.
Her spine had stiffened straight to maximum capacity, her arms loose around his shoulders, but the tension in her body seemed so palpable it was almost as if it would snap.
And snap it did, because a second later Alex studied her as she gently pushed him off, touched the top of the daughter's head softly, and then paced out of the courtroom fervently like she was running from something.
"Benson- have you noticed anything about Casey?"
"What?" Olivia glanced, managing to catch a glimpse of the quickly-moving redhead before she vanished, a small crease appearing on her forehead.
"No, I haven't- I guess she's seemed a little skittish, lately, but that's all."
Skittish? The bold, fierce spirit of a woman Alex knew Casey as would not be skittish.
Her fear affirmed, and she quickly excused herself, striding as quickly as she could into the hallway- she managed to watch a flash of red when the women's powder room door closed.
She hesitated outside of it for a long second, before she heard a sound like a gag and pushed the door open impulsively.
"Casey."
The redhead looked so small, so defeated, and when she raised her eyes from the sink to her face Alex realized she apparently couldn't see as she was just squinting vaguely in her direction instead of meeting her eyes. Either that, or she was pretending she couldn't.
One of her arms was trembling as she forced the weight of her thin frame on it, and the other was clutching at the space beneath her chest. The blouse was lifted slightly, pooling around her arm, and the way her arm was twitching showed Alex very plainly she was in pain.
Casey hadn't graced her with a response for a long moment, so Alex started forward softly, hoping her presence could be something of a comfort, hoping Casey would tell her to leave if it wasn't. But Casey didn't stop her, so she crept close enough to envelop the wrist she was using to hold at something to move it away, and then using her index finger pushed the fabric that fell back into place up once more.
"Jesus Christ, Casey." Alex exhaled when she saw it. A dark shade of red was sprawled across the center of Casey's left ribcage, purple crawling lines indicating where blood vessels had burst blood beneath her skin, dotted by similar colors of grey and dark red. It looked ridiculously painful and she couldn't see any traces of unsaturated green or yellow that might indicate healing. This must be a recent injury- why the hell had Casey come in today?- they hadn't even been in session, just hearing the verdict, she could've skipped. Honestly, she should be in the hospital- Why wasn't she? Why had she let the defendant hug her like that with this sporting beneath her clothes?
Casey tried to chuckle and the sound broke Alex's heart.
"Did someone do this to you?" Alex breathed, a slight bristle in her tone that she hoped Casey hadn't caught on. Casey's new partners were none of her business. If Casey wanted intimacy after her that shouldn't be anything she should be upset about. But someone who did something like this? Alex would make them bite asphalt.
"You think you have a right to know?" Casey retorted, and Alex knew she was trying to be intimidating, but she just looked hurt. "You think you have a right to ask me anything?"
"Casey," the blonde sighed. Although she was taken aback, slightly, by the snarl that laced the attorney's voice, she took the hit with grace and tried to reach out regardless, only to see Casey shake her head. Alex let go of the wrist she hadn't realized she was still holding and watched Casey as she turned away, grasping for the side of the sink, but she didn't make clear enough contact for Alex to be sure Casey could manage her limbs in this state.
She saw the redhead's leg shudder and she tensed, quickly skirting around her to lift Casey onto herself, trying to get her to the floor before she ended up there more painfully. It wasn't hard to do. Casey seemed very weak, and very overwhelmed, and she let Alex maneuver her to the wall, sliding down the side of it when directed, and Alex took a step back tentatively, watching her, wondering if she should leave. If she could leave. It felt irresponsible but she didn't know if Casey wanted her there.
"You left me." Casey said after a pause Alex had taken to study her, snapping the blonde back into reality, and she realized Casey was glaring up at her through red-rimmed green eyes.
"You fucked me-" Alex winced at the impolite language, "in my office, no less- and then you left me."
Alex clenched her jaw, and although Casey wasn't wrong she couldn't stop herself from defending herself. "I got shot,"
But she got cut off before she could explain, and with a resigned sigh she realized Casey was trying to scare her off, which now made her sure she couldn't leave her alone.
"You know how I found out? No texts, no calls, and you know I don't listen to rumors. I only found out when they called me in to force me into your job."
"I got shot," Alex repeated again, harshly, harsher than she meant, but she needed Casey to understand. "I'm not sorry I didn't make that about you."
She regretted it when she saw Casey tighten herself, her knee planting against her ribs in a way she knew must be incredibly painful, and she realized Casey wasn't going to stop punishing herself despite the wince that was barely registered. She dropped slowly, to her knees in front of the furious sitting woman, and pried the redhead's left knee away from her as gently as she could manage.
She had used her bad arm on instinct, and she hoped Casey didn't realize how the movements of Alex's hand were unnatural as it gently pulled on her knee.
"Do you think I'm a whore?" Casey blurted out, and Alex jolted backward as if hit. What?
Alex exhaled shakily, her eyebrows drawn together as she leaned forward, trying to check her temperature. Was Casey acting this erratically because she was feverish? Was something genuinely medically wrong here, was it in her best interest to call a bus despite how harshly she knew Casey would protest that?
"I have no idea where you'd get that from," she tried to soothe, but Casey's unrelenting glare caused her to pause and thus Novak took to opportunity to cut her off.
"I don't have sex with just anyone-" Casey continued, seething, and Alex swallowed, switching her hand- she had used her bad one to estimate her temperature, but for the more refined task of moving locks of her hair out of her eyes, she needed the stability the untouched arm could give her.
"I don't- It means something to me. You thought that was just a quickie with some colleague you could toss aside?"
Is that what she had thought?
Alex thought back to the office parties, the way her eyes had skimmed over the crowd the second she had arrived to find a red-headed face Casey's green eyes would already be shining back in her direction. The late run-ins by the coffee cart, the sound of laughter from Casey's throat, the way her lips felt. The way her squirming had felt like electricity whenever her skin had made contact with Alex's, the way her breathless gasps had made Alex feel like she'd never need another painkiller, she'd just need to remember that. And now that breathless voice was being snarled at her with layers of pain Alex felt like she was trying hopelessly to wade through, accusing Alex of intentionally- what? Is that really what she thought?
Alex had been struggling, fighting with everything she could to return to the level of control that had been stolen from her. It wasn't fair.
Despite herself, Alex's nostrils flared and she pursed her lips, a twinge of hurt in her voice when she replied as firmly as she could, "I'm surprised you have such a low opinion of me."
"You haven't given me much else to think", she muttered, which only fueled the hurt in Alex's blood as she regarded the redhead with mounting concern. She really was trying to fight her off. Alex clung to that thought, trying to feel less gravely insulted. Casey wasn't in the state of mind for her to take anything she said seriously.
"I courted you," Alex whispered fiercely, trying to stop the indignation from leaking into what she hoped would come off as a soft, reassuring tone, and she was entirely genuine when she muttered, "I did not sleep with you out of convenience."
Because she hadn't. Casey had been the object of her desires for weeks. She had stopped by her office at least a dozen times before the night in question.
Casey hadn't responded for another long second, and Alex was starting to be concerned the long pauses in their conversations weren't from Casey thinking but rather from her spacing out, so she moved on, deciding to physically examine. She leaned forward, hesitantly unbuttoning a button of Casey's blouse. It wasn't a first nor a last, so nothing really opened. She was trying to create a window, not expose anything that wasn't necessary for her to see.
The redhead didn't stop her- she didn't move at all, so Alex unbuttoned the next three, prodding the fabric to the side and grimacing at the sight of it again, even though she knew how what to expect. She took her time examining, and then the nudged higher slightly.
When she had held her wrist, Alex had realized her arms seemed thinner than they used to be, but now she saw clearly how malnourished Casey was. She had been able to see the faint outlines of her ribs when Casey flexed, previously, but now they stood out against her skin avidly. Casey must not be eating properly- she must've been neglecting herself for a while to lose weight like this. God. She knew her job sucked, but to do this to someone?
She glanced at Casey, who apparently didn't realize, and decided she wanted to make sure nothing was really broken. If she had broken her ribs, she was calling an ambulance immediately.
Casey growled in the back of her throat, swiping at Alex's wrist with a pained expression when she felt the pads of Alex's fingertips tracing her ribs, trying to feel for any sort of abnormality. "Stop, stop-"
"Can you take a deep breath, Casey?" She quizzed instead, retracting her hand but leaving it hovering over her slightly. She didn't know how to check for things, but if Casey could take a deep breath, that was probably a good enough sign.
"You're not a doctor." Casey accused, and Alex sighed internally- her hesitance at examining must be showing, Casey must be questioning the extent of her medical knowledge, but she disguised it with an arched eyebrow.
"Would you let me take you to one?" She cursed to herself when her voice sounded so hopeful. Casey, though, apparently read it as sarcasm, which worked in its place.
Casey let out an angry huff of an exhale but must've resigned to humor her. She straightened her spine slightly, taking a deep breath, gritting her teeth in pain after two or three seconds. Alex clicked her tongue, but pulled back, resting her body on the heel of her foot, still on her knees. Her chest had risen enough to be a normal inhale, so Casey's previous shallow inhales must've been for a different reason than physically not being able to, which did not help her concern. And the fact Casey couldn't breathe deeply didn't help much, either.
"Are you trying to avoid the hospital to protect the person who did this?" Alex murmured, hesitantly. Casey only snorted in response.
"Don't act so concerned, Alex, you aren't the Sex Crimes ADA anymore, you're the defense now- for some reason- and no, this wasn't a person's fault, other than mine. I got hit with a softball."
Alex narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth, bristling at the implication that Alex would only care because she'd be running prosecution and doubly upset by the idea Casey being hit with a softball was somehow her own fault. No, it wasn't. What?
She briefly considered that it wasn't actually softball and Casey was simply lying to her. She had no real way of figuring out if the redhead was being honest or not- Casey was too smart and too complex to have a 'tell' like most anyone else would have. But Alex wanted to grant her the benefit of the doubt. She had more pressing issues to spend mental processes on.
Casey had hit a little too close to home questioning her new position, and Alex had to think back to what she was doing almost half an hour ago- standing next to a woman who she was now near sure was a rapist. Jesus Christ. All she had wanted was the rush she had grown so accustomed to, the pride she had used to feel for her worth. She could save people. That's all she could do.
"I'm the defense because I thought I was helping," Alex said after a pause, rubbing the space between her eyebrows with her middle finger to soothe the tension there, "god knows I needed to do something."
"So now that that attempt failed you're getting your savior complex fix with me?"
"Casey," Alex warned her, trying very hard not to let resentment drip into her tone because her jabs were actually getting somewhere now and she had to chide herself that Casey was literally out of her mind with pain and Alex couldn't argue with her right now.
"Don't pretend to care about me," Casey bit, shaking and struggling to stand, using her arm on the sink as an anchor back to an upright position that Alex couldn't believe she was attempting. She was shivering on the floor, how the hell did she expect to move while standing- but somehow she did it, and Alex inwardly grimaced that her fiery determination was one of the captivating parts about her. If only she wasn't using it for self-destruction.
"Casey," her tone was admonished now, incredulous, despite her attempts to stifle it. "Tell me you don't mean that."
"Did I mean anything to you?" Casey growled, and Alex steeled her nerves not to flinch away from her. How dare she accuse her of something like that? She clicked her tongue, but Casey didn't seem to really register it.
"Yes." Alex barked, then, after a moment of standing there waiting for an apology, "Yes, you did. And you still do. And I don't like watching you hurt yourself so please sit the hell back down."
"I want to go home," Casey sighed, and with a shake of her head, Alex restrained her in the most simple way imaginable. She'd never done it before, but all she really had to do was hold Casey's wrists very loosely and back her into the sink, and the redhead stopped moving.
"Then I'll come home with you," Alex's mind raced for some sort of compromise. She understood that, in pain, Casey must just want to fall into bed and sleep, and she was entirely content to try to cook something in the redhead's kitchen from a safe distance away so that she could check in on her every couple of minutes. "I'm not letting you get away from me, not when you're like this."
"Like what?" Casey scoffed, starting to move. Alex inched her hips just slightly forward, and Casey stopped moving as she was greeted by the sink. In fear she had inadvertently hurt her with the movement, Alex relented immediately and closed her eyes prematurely at the jab she knew Casey must be formulating from the pain she had just caused. She deserved this one, then.
"You don't trust me to take care of myself?" Casey snarled and Alex just swallowed. No, no she didn't. Not at all.
Alex was starting to get impatient. She didn't like that Casey was still standing, and she didn't like the sound of her voice- scratching and raw, now, and Alex could tell she was utterly exhausted. And her previous bites to Alex's intentions still stung in the back of her mind. Alex wanted her to submit, just for a little, just so she could get some food or water in weak figure or get her to lay down, and then once she had more strength Alex was content to fight with her for the next year. Next decade. If Casey wanted to fight so badly, Alex would nurture her beyond her original strength so she could break Alex's heart properly. Not like this.
"I just saw your ribs," Alex snapped, concern and impatience causing her voice to crack, and she leaned closer, trying to get Casey to see the genuine look in her eyes. "I just saw your ribs, and they did not look like that before."
Casey stiffened, her eyes widening, and Alex gritted her teeth. She needed Casey to please just let her in. This interaction couldn't drag out this long. God knows what would happen if they were still at odds when someone else needed the bathroom- Casey would dart out of her grasp and Alex knew she'd never get her back.
"You're not eating- god, I'm not sure if I should be glad I can tell your rib isn't actually broken because the only way I can tell is because it's so prominent if it was broken it would've just cracked out of your skin-, you weren't this thin when we slept together-" Alex rambled, the desperation finally seeping into her tone, taking a deep breath to stop herself before she became incoherent.
"Please. I understand that I need to regain your trust after leaving so suddenly. But we were somewhere, weren't we? Don't I have at least a little stature with you?"
She didn't like how it felt as though she was begging, but with a sigh, she realized she was.
"Let me help you," Alex finally let her facade break entirely. She hoped the note of imploration would finally get the redhead's resolve the crumble, and apparently, it did, because she felt Casey's arms go limp.
Alex backed away, slowly, her eyes darting down to make sure that Casey wouldn't fall when she did. To her relief, Casey seemed to have stopped shaking.
"I'm sorry," Casey said while staring determinedly at Alex's heels, echoing it a second later with a defeated note in her low hum that used to send a shiver of interest down Alex's spine.
"I don't want you to be sorry," Alex leaned down slightly, trying to catch Casey's eye, but the redhead looked to the other side instead, avoiding her. "I want to make sure you're okay."
"I will be," Casey muttered, shaking her head slightly, and Alex felt her heart drop into her stomach when the redhead's eyes shone in the bathroom lighting with tears she wasn't sure if Casey realized. Casey wiped her nose, though, on her sleeve, so at least she was registering something.
"What can I do to ensure that?" She tried to make her voice as soft as possible.
Casey bit her lip, and Alex instinctively moved her hand up to soothe over her cheek, trying to make sure in her mess of emotions the redhead didn't break her skin. Casey let her lip go obediently, which Alex was satisfied with.
"We can get dinner." Casey responded, finally, after a pause in which Alex could count every best of her anxious heart.
Alex nodded, straightening, and motioned for Casey to lead her out of the bathroom. The redhead sucked in another pained inhale and began walking, before faltering slightly, her hand pausing on the doorknob.
"Alex," she started, her voice low and heavy with exhaustion, and Alex was momentarily again concerned she was about to collapse. "Do you actually care-"
Alex knew what she was going to finish that sentence with, and she knew she wouldn't let Casey finish it. She didn't want to hear the question out loud, she didn't think she could stand it. Alex clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing hopelessly in some fit to figure out how to soothe Casey enough that the redhead would resign herself to letting the blonde help her. She sighed, wracking her brain, before doing the only thing she could formulate to do.
Casey's lips felt the exact same as they had when Alex had kissed her before, but her jaw and her cheekbones were more discernable under her fingers, and that helped ensure Alex did not lose herself in the feeling of Casey's mouth on hers. She separated the second she felt Casey's soft exhale against her nose, but couldn't help herself- a soft kiss to her forehead which would've been followed by more if Casey had looked anxious.
But Casey looked okay now, studying Alex with interest, so much so that the blonde could feel her composure break slightly, and the question that pressed too densely against her skull slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.
"Casey," She began, and then bit down, not wanting to ask. She needed to be more careful of Casey than that and- and she wasn't entirely sure she could handle the answer. If Casey did, Alex had already resigned herself to caring for her, and this would make everything so much more complicated.
"Yes?" Casey prompted regardless and Alex couldn't quiet herself to her.
"Do you regret sleeping with me?"
"No." She answered, "I don't."
Alex exhaled, slowly, and swallowed. She knew she shouldn't have asked, shouldn't have gambled, and she didn't trust that Casey hadn't just answered in that way for her own benefit. She shouldn't have kissed her, either. She'd have a serious conversation later, when Casey looked less like the door handle and sheer determination were keeping her upright.
Alex stepped around her to open the door, inviting her out, and the two began walking side by side toward the exit of the courtroom.
Olivia glanced over, a flicker of relief in her eyes when she spotted the two lawyers, and she moved to approach and try to reassure that everything was okay before Alex shook her head softly. Olivia nodded, one eyebrow shifting with a nonverbal question, and Alex half-smiled back. I've got it from here, it meant, and Olivia was content with that.
"Let me take you somewhere nice." Alex murmured, "and then you tell me what's been happening, okay?"
Casey's hand was shaking next to her and Alex swallowed, thinking for a hard second if it would be appropriate before gently confining the shivering fingers in her own. A moment later, she felt quite pleased- that was her bad side.
She used to need to focus so hard to move that hand. Now it felt natural.
Casey leaned into the touch, just barely, but enough for it to signal that at least to some degree she found it reassuring.
Alex felt reassured, too.
↓↓↓
To read Casey's perception of these events, please continue:
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daisy-01-blog · 1 day ago
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Yeehaw baby! (Smut Toji Fushiguro x fem! reader) crackfic
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A/N: Sorry (not sorry) for the title. You’re a kindergarten teacher and Toji is a single father. 2nd person POV. Crack fic treated seriously. Vulgar language. Breeding kink 
You are stressed, and you usually are. But today you are more likely to commit a fraud, or an arson (what?) 
You don’t know why you think it’s a good idea to be a kindergarten teacher while having anger issues. They’re loud, they fight all the time, and they cry all the time. Every day is a new problem, and no one tells her how sassy they are. One time they asked you why you are not married yet, another time one of them tells you that you are ugly. 
This is bullying. 
Today, a kid gotten into a fight. Of course, kids fight all the time. But they are hurt because they fought physically, and your head hurts seeing their innocent faces full of scratches as they tell you what happened. 
You calm yourself down. Tomorrow, you have to meet with their parents separately, you didn’t need any more drama when you meet them at the same time. 
It’s fine, you told yourself. You can quit this job sooner or later-maybe in two years or so. You sighed as you pack your things for today. 
Megumi is a quiet kid-you noticed this. He rarely talks and rarely makes any commotion-Yuuji, is quite loud. He is always happy and boisterous. Yuuji said you’re very pretty (although he only said that because he wants some candy) 
So, when they fought, you ask them what happened. They both got teary eyed, although Yuuji straight up ugly crying and Megumi cries silently. 
“He calls my dad a bum” Megumi mutters quietly. 
You cannot laugh. You’re a teacher-you must not laugh. You laughed. 
“Yuuji” you said (attempt) sweetly “why did you call his dad a bum?” 
Yuuji wiped his tears “my dad said so” he said. 
You sighed “my dear, you cannot follow everything your dad said, okay? It’s a mean thing to say” You stare at them “now, you have to apologize to Megumi” 
After that they apologized and become friends again, holding hands while their faces are covered in tears. You cannot understand kid. 
It’s the next day, you discussed this matter with Gojo, Yuuji’s dad. He explains that him and Toji are good friends, so it was an inside joke they had. You nodded as you advised him to watch his language around his kid. It went well, you should’ve invited them at the same time. 
Or shouldn’t you?
You feel weird today, like something is going to happen. But what can happen? You’re just meeting Megumi’s dad today. You waited on your office. 
Not long after, a guy with a huge build enters the room-he has a scar on his mouth. 
Your jaw dropped (figuratively) 
What? Yes, he is very hot, and his outfit is inappropriate for formal meeting-but why does he look like a criminal syndicate? It’s funny more than anything. 
He stares at you, and you suddenly feel conscious. Your skirt is shorter than usual today. 
“Hello” he mutters, and his voice is deep. It makes your stomach feels a bit weird-you nodded “hello sir” 
He smirks and you can’t read him-you offer him to sit down as you both do so. 
“Your son got into a fight with his classmate” you said, straight to the point-you can’t wait to go home. 
“So, I’ve heard” he muttered “Gojo is a good friend of mine, but that brat dislikes him” he muttered, staring at your skirt. 
Your ears redden as you try to explain why he should be more mindful of his language-
“Your skirt is very short” he mutters suddenly, getting his face closer to you. 
“Sorry?” You squeaked, and you curse mentally because you sound like a dying whale. 
He smirks “you heard me” and he screams danger, you’re supposed to be scared but you’re a bit aroused instead. 
“I’m impressed” he whispers “I can see your legs, darling” 
Your ears redden “I don’t think this is- “ 
“Are you single?” he asks, his eyes gleam dangerously, and you feel your stomach do that weird somersault again. 
You’re supposed to ignore it, ask him to get out-say that’s inappropriate- 
“Yes” you answered, your breath hitched. 
He grins “that’s very fortunate” 
It escalates quickly, he kissed your lips roughly and you feel dizzy. You can feel his tongue entangling yours. He tastes like cigarettes, and he smells like one too. 
“Your lips is very soft” he pants “undress yourself for me will you?” 
And you did, you’re in a hurry. Your mind jumbled because of the kiss. 
He kisses your neck, and you hold your moan “all of you is very soft” he mutters as he slowly gropes your chest “they’re so big” he whispers, “Maybe I should make them full of milk” he bit your earlobe “milk your tits hmm?” 
You moan at the indication; you can’t think straight. 
He suckles your nipples, giving attention to one by one. You moan in pleasure. 
“Ahhn” you moan as he licks it. 
“I’ll breed you”he groans, kissing your stomach as he caresses it “make you full of my cum here” he pats your stomach “make your breasts full of milk too” 
You moan “please” and he grins, fingering your cunt as you moan in pleasure. 
“So wet already” he growls as he fingers your pussy. 
You moan “faster” you begged; you feel so fuzzy.
“Hear that sound” he whispers filthily on your ear “your pussy is weeping for my fingers” 
“Don’t say that” you moan, shaking and panting. 
“Cum” he whispers as you do so, moaning and panting. 
He slurps your juices, licking your clit as you shake your hips and orgasm again. 
“Good girl” he purrs as you feel your kitty twitching.
He wastes no time unzipping his pants and taking off his underwear, you mewl when you saw his huge veiny cock. 
“Time to breed you baby” he whispers, slowly getting his cock inside your pussy. You moan, feeling so full of him. 
He grunts, slowly getting faster “your pussy is so tight” he moans as he fucks you on your desk. 
The squelching noises fill the room, you moan-feeling so full of his cock. 
“Fuck, your pussy is so lewd” he moans as he plows you faster “it’s begging me to breed you, to fill your pussy with my cunt” 
You shudder, your eyes rolled back as he plows your pussy-the noises of flesh against flesh slapping fills the room. 
You shake your hips, feeling close. 
He grunts “don’t be so loud darling” he said, “as desirable it is to get found out fucking the teacher, you wouldn’t want to be fired, do you?” 
You moan as he plows you harder “wanna cum” you moan. 
He grunts as he plows you faster and harder, hitting your spot “fuck, you wanna be a mommy sweetheart? Being full of my cum? You don’t have to do any work” he moans as he fucks you. 
“Please…breed me” you moan. 
He grunts as he spews jets of his cum inside you, you moan-feeling so full. 
You both panted, you feel his cunt dripping from your pussy. 
He writes down his number on a piece of paper after he fixes his attire. 
“Call me” he smirks before he left. 
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happy74827 · 1 day ago
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In The Eye of The Storm
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[Troy Otto x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: When your refusal to harm the living puts you in a life-threatening situation, you find yourself saved by the one person who embodies everything that you can’t bring yourself to become.
WC: 1446
Category: Slight Angst {Innocent!Medic!Reader, TW: Death, Hints of Assault}
My first fic of 2025!! As a New Year resolution (not really), I finally started binging FTWD after finishing all the other Walking Dead shows. It's pretty good imo. I don’t understand why it’s so hated… but then again, I’m still only on Season 3 LMAO
『••✎••』
The world hadn’t ended in one violent explosion but in slow, agonizing pieces. You thought the worst part would be watching people you loved turn, but the truth was darker. The living had become worse than the dead, and sometimes, you wondered how long you could keep your ideals intact before they got you killed.
You clung to the idea of doing good, of helping others, even as society crumbled around you. You had studied to be a doctor back when the world was still standing, and for now, that knowledge hadn’t gone to waste—at least not yet. It made you useful and valuable even though, in this world, kindness wasn’t enough to survive.
Nick had tried to make you see that more than once.
"You’re gonna get yourself killed, y’know," he’d said after you patched him up for the third time in as many weeks. His tone wasn’t cruel, but it carried that edge of concern he tried to hide beneath his usual cynicism. "You keep thinking people are worth saving. Not all of them are."
You hadn’t argued with him that day, but you hadn’t agreed either. How could you when the instinct to help was ingrained in you? It wasn’t about naiveté or blind hope—it was about holding onto the last thing that made you feel human. If you gave up on that, what would be left?
Still, Nick wasn’t the only one who had warned you. Even Madison, who had once praised your level head, had pulled you aside after one close call and made it clear that mercy wouldn’t keep you alive. And Troy—well, Troy never passed up an opportunity to remind you just how weak you were.
"You’re soft," he’d told you once, his voice laced with that infuriating mix of disdain and amusement. "The world’s gonna chew you up, spit you out. You know that, right?"
It had taken every ounce of self-control not to snap back at him. Troy didn’t care about you in the way Nick or Madison did. He wasn’t trying to protect you—he was observing you, picking apart your flaws like they were things he could exploit. And yet, there had been something in his tone that day, something almost curious, like he couldn’t quite understand why you were the way you were.
And now, standing here, cornered by a group of men who saw you as nothing more than easy prey, you wondered if they had all been right all along.
Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands gripping the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. But it didn’t matter how hard you held it. You couldn’t make yourself move. You couldn’t make yourself do what needed to be done.
"Look at her," one of the men sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Shaking like a leaf."
The others laughed, and the sound sent a cold shiver down your spine. You tried to steady your breathing and summon the courage to act, but your body refused to cooperate.
The scarred man at the front of the group took a step closer. "What’s the matter, sweetheart? Too scared to use that knife?"
You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Every instinct you had screamed at you to run, but there was nowhere to go. You were trapped.
And that’s when you heard a calm, cold voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Well, well. What do we have here?"
The laughter stopped. All eyes turned toward the source of the sound, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.
Troy stood a few yards away, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder, his posture loose but poised, like a predator biding its time. His lips curled into a faint smirk, his pale blue eyes glinting with that dangerous, unreadable light you’d come to associate with him.
"Gentlemen," he drawled, tilting his head slightly. "This a private party, or can anyone join?"
The leader of the group—the man with the scar that came running down his jaw—snorted, clearly unimpressed. "Keep walking, man. This doesn’t concern you."
Troy’s smirk widened, his gaze flicking to you briefly. Something in his eyes made your heart race. Not out of fear, but out of a strange, twisted sense of relief.
Because you knew what Troy was capable of. You knew that these men had no idea what kind of storm they’d just walked into.
"See, that’s where you’re wrong," Troy said, his voice deceptively casual. "It kinda does concern me." He shifted the rifle off his shoulder, cradling it loosely in his hands. "She’s with me."
The scarred man’s eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."
Troy didn’t miss a beat. "Try me."
It was strange how your fear shifted from terror at the threat before you to unease at the prospect of what Troy would do. Because there was no doubt in your mind that he would kill these men, and you didn’t know if you could handle the aftermath.
The poor irony was that these… men, they didn't even recognize their own danger. You saw the way the leader of their group sized Troy up, the way the others fanned out in a flanking position. They thought they had the upper hand.
Numbers come across as intimidating in the long run, but in truth, the numbers are only as good as the skill of those wielding them.
So, from a glance, it was three men against one.
But in reality, it was three men against an unstoppable force of nature.
"Don’t." You said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Troy, don't—"
You didn’t know why you were trying to stop him. They would have killed you … or worse, without a second thought, and the fact that Troy was actually willing to stand up for you was something you weren't expecting.
And yet, a part of you couldn't stand the thought of him taking a life—even the lives of men like this. You couldn't stand the thought of blood being spilled, all for the sake of defending you.
You knew what he would say: that it was the way of the world. That it was necessary. But you couldn't bring yourself to accept that.
Troy didn't answer, didn't even look at you. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the men, his grip tightening on his rifle. That… you suppose, told you that his ears had heard, and he was choosing to ignore.
The man with the scar glanced over his shoulder, meeting his companions' gazes. They shared a silent exchange, a silent debate, and then the man turned back to face Troy, his expression darkening.
"Let's see how tough you are, pretty boy."
It took about two minutes. Maybe three.
By the end of it, the ground was soaked in blood, and the air was filled with the sharp smell of iron.
The leader of the group had been the first to fall, his skull shattered by a well-placed shot. The others hadn't lasted much longer, their bodies littered with bullets from Troy's rifle.
You'd watched it happen, too stunned to move. It had been like watching a hurricane, powerful and destructive and utterly unstoppable.
When the last man fell, Troy turned to face you, his expression inscrutable. "You're welcome."
You should have thanked him, should have acknowledged his help. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Not when you'd seen the cold, calculated look in his eyes, the way he'd relished in the violence.
So, instead, you looked at him, your voice wavering with emotion. "I didn't want this."
Troy snorted, rolling his shoulders as if to release the tension. His rifle slid back over his shoulder, the barrel still warm from the discharge.
His gaze held yours, a challenge in those pale blue eyes. After a moment, he spoke, his tone calm and clipped. "Fine." He nodded his head slightly towards the dead men. "Next time, I'll leave 'em to you."
With that, he turned and started to walk away, his strides confident and purposeful. He didn't look back, didn't seem to care if you followed.
And in that moment, you hated him. Hated him for his coldness, his ruthlessness, his refusal to see your point of view. But most of all, you hated yourself because despite everything, despite all the death and bloodshed and destruction, you were grateful.
Grateful that he'd been there.
Grateful that he'd saved your life.
And no matter how much you wanted to deny it, you knew the truth.
Troy Otto was right.
You were soft.
Weak.
And no matter how much you resisted, no matter how much you pretended, sooner or later, the world was going to swallow you whole.
And no storm could save you from that.
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luvismenu · 2 days ago
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hey everyone, i want to let you know that i’ve decided to take down my tech bf mini series. it was brought to my attention that it was similar to fics by my friend and fellow writer @muniimyg ,, after discussing it with her, i reflected on the similarities and agreed.
i want to be clear that this was unintentional, i did not plagiarize kimi’s works. i always put my own thoughts and creativity into everything i write, and i have reasonable explanations for all of my stories and ideas. i always try to make my fics different. i feel really terrible for having to take it down, and i’m sorry for any disappointment it may have caused.
however, i also respect my friend because i do see the resemblance now and i take accountability for it and again, i really, really respect & love kimi and her works. i consider her one of my favourite writers and also a great friend, and i don't think i'd ever intentionally hurt her. i never want to make her or anyone feel uncomfortable or disrespected, and i hope this decision shows my sincerity in resolving the situation.
thank you for your understanding and for supporting me as i learn and grow. i’ll continue to work hard to bring you original stories that i can stand behind with pride.
and i might need to take a step back and breathe for a bit. i’ll answer your asks once i’m fully calm and able to respond thoughtfully. and i kindly request you to be a little more civil with your asks.
— luvi
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brostateexam · 3 days ago
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ok, im well out of the loop with cassie clare, i havent read one of her books in at least 10 years, but i was big on her as a teenager. did she start off as a fic author? (that wouldn't surprise me) or did she just straight up plagiarise a bunch of shit?
The answer to this question is: both!
I will start off by saying: All of this is to the best of my recollection. This is not a perfect accounting of events. If you really, really want to know, I'm sure there are people who are like actual fandom scholars and archivists who will get it all right, but that is very not me.
And on the offchance that any lawyer is reading this: Please consider all of this as a recollection of events that happened. Not trying to defame anyone here, just talking about events that already occurred. Anything mentioned about the author in question that is not a recollection of past events is speculative and should be taken as such.
Cassie Clare did indeed start off as a fic author. She was decently prolific and wrote a lot for a very big fandom at the time, Harry Potter. She wrote a series (Draco trilogy, had names like Draco Dormiens) that was very, very popular. Presumably many modern readers are now reaching for rotten tomatoes or airsick bags as applicable, but this was circa 2000-2005(ish?), so the attitude toward HP was different back then, to say the least. Her stuff was put up on a fansite that was dedicated to HP only on like a featured page, which was basically reserved for decent writers and big name fans that the fansite runner knew and liked.
All of these people have names and are findable, but I don't remember them because it has been decades.
Draco Dormiens and or the others in the series were at the center of this controversy, and I think that with the benefit of time, it did not age well, but it was very of the time, and people loved the idea of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny as articulate, witty, hot older teens being rich and glamorous and magical and cool. Keep in mind, we gotta rewind the clock here. I remember the plagiarism controversy really gaining steam in early 2003, so at this time about 4 or 5 of the books were out and the main people reading them were teenagers and college kids, not the 30- or 40-somethings going to the theme park that you see on the internet now. So this was wildly popular and it's probably not hard to understand why.
Her popularity took a hit when she began to be accused of plagiarism, and when it didn't immediately recede it become a full on controversy. This was a big accusation to level, because she was very popular and very well-liked, and was friends with a lot of other authors who were also popular and well-liked, who largely speaking had her back. Finally, after the furor grew and grew, she acknowledged the controversy and made a statement that amounted to something like: "Okay, I thought it was pretty clear that I was just making references to popular TV shows by stealing dialog from episodes word for word, but I'll attribute everything I use in this way from now on, and I will also go back and add attribution for everything I used in this way."
This was a very savvy way of dealing with the accusations, because it was true that she was doing this (largely lifting stuff from Buffy and from Babylon 5, as I recall) and it was also true that if you were a fan of either show and read her fics, you could absolutely see that she was doing this and take it as a send-up or reference, not as plagiarism. This gave her friends and fans an out, a way to say to people "okay we get it, she acknowledged it and added attribution, can you shut up now?"
Except that wasn't actually the extent of it. Cassie Clare, well known for her super cool magical concepts she introduced in her Draco trilogy, was lifting those from a then out-of-print fantasy series by Pamela Dean. And it wasn't just ideas that she was lifting wholesale and not bothering to change the names of. She was also copying out whole paragraphs and pages, secure in the knowledge that you couldn't buy the books anymore, so it wasn't like she could get nailed by someone picking up the book at a Barnes & Noble and going "hey, wait a sec."
Except, perhaps not surprisingly, a lot of people who like fanfiction for Harry Potter also like fantasy as a genre, and people absolutely clocked some of her lazier plagiarism, because it was seriously word for word, sometimes for paragraphs.
This ultimately led to her getting banned for plagiarism from fanfic.net lol and the entire Draco trilogy was removed.
I think the lesson she took from this may have been the wrong one, and I fear it may have been that if you copy stuff and are popular enough, you can get away with it for years, so keep copying. Her entire career she's been accused of plagiarism, for both for her YA series and for her new series. I can't say if any of the subsequent allegations were true or not. Personally, I'm inclined to believe the claims simply because she has a history of doing it, doing it shamelessly, and lying about it or at least obscuring the full truth back in her fanfic era.
Anyway, I'd like to conclude this by saying if you really like her stuff and want to keep reading it or whathaveyou, I don't think that has a particular moral valence. I believe people in their 20s mostly know her for Shadowhunters, and from what I've gleaned it's about hot people in their 20s being glamorous and magical and witty and rich, and that's a winning formula now just like it was a generation ago. The person who should bear the burden of not being a plagiarist is the author, not the audience.
Hope this was informative, and thanks for asking!
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yearninflowers · 3 days ago
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please elaborate the cult leader!Sunday... the whole class is curious (love all of your fics, btw! <33)
Thank you for taking your time to read my fics, i'm genuinely happy hearing you like all of them o(^o^)o !
The sunday fic
Actually for that fic, the main idea was cult leader!sunday who manages a whole cult worshipping the very grounds you walk on, with a bunch of other people (whom you may or may not know) he succeeded in persuading. If that cult was successfully built, he won't tell you about it until after he 'persuaded' you too, because what if you suddenly get scared of him? He can't let that happen. He can't let you get away after all that he did for you.
Well, anyway, it'll all be easy for him. After all, he's a master of manipulation; it's a piece of cake to build a place wholly to pray to you.
But i kind of scrapped that idea and turned it into him just worshipping you alone (at the moment, maybe?). While i like the initial idea a lot more, i think the ending where he wants to be your only devotee fits him best. It somewhat implies how much he wants to keep you as his only deity (read: he's obsessed with control). What if someone taints the ever so pure you? He won't allow it. But maybe, after he 'wakes' you up from your human state and finally makes you realise that you are meant to be worshipped by someone (sunday especially), he might spread around a word or two about you.
Ah, also, in line with me elaborating more about the sunday fic, i think i didn't quite express the part when sunday's face 'turns' into something scary, specifically this part:
This time, Sunday didn't immediately smile. He didn't reassure you right away. His face looked unlike what you knew of him.
It's just that he always puts a kind person facade to almost everyone around him, including you. When he knew that someone deliberately made up a rumour about him having relations with a cult, he was a little more than mad. He wasn't mad at you, of course! He was just a little frustrated that he can't immediately spill around the fact that he is worshipping you, not some other being!
He was angry, yet excited. His heart feels like it could just leap out from his chest and shout to the world that he loves and adores you! What better way to show that love than to worship you? Even if you don't understand it when he explains everything to you one day, he will gladly drill it into your mind that you are meant to be worshipped no matter how long it takes ♡
You have to accept his love, even if it's tainted with the ugliness of delusions.
If you want me to elaborate more about a specific part of the fic (or even another fic), please don't be shy to send another ask! I'm happy to share around unsaid or implied informations about my fics!
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zepskies · 3 days ago
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Oh my Goooood I've been so excited to see what you came up with, Michelle!! You know I love your takes on characters and these shows, so I knew you would hit these headcanons out of the park. 😍 Thank you so much for using my idea/taking on my request. 💕💕
Now, to dive right in!
Dean:
Oh, I was smiling so hard reading his part. 😏
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It hurt my heart that she thought him coming up to her in the bar was a "bet" of some kind, and that she didn't think he was seriously hitting on her (probably would be my reaction tbh). But I loved this:
“If I wanted to talk to her, I’d have gone over there. Now you can tell me to get lost or you can give me a chance.” “Chance to what?” “Take a beautiful woman home,” he’d grin, looking up through his lashes.
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And I also love how 1 drink turned into a 3 week relationship. 🥰
“My favorite girl? Always,” he hummed, body jerking when a waft of cherries floated through the room. He tilted his head, eyes wide. “You…made pie?”
First I melted from the adorableless, but then YES, she made him PIE. 🥧🥧 She's definitely a keeper. 💞
Beau Arlen
Oooh I actually liked the slow burn of this one. I could so see this as a full fic btw! (One that I would totally read. 😏 Been rewatching Big Sky season 3 lately.)
The "wanting to prove it to himself that he was ready for another relationship and that Emily was doing better after everything that happened over the summer" are both so valid for Barlen. 👌🏽
Still, I love the hints that he picks up on that the reader is into him, even though he's kind of biding his time. And when he finally just goes for it...
“Beau. Come on. I know I’m not your type.” Beau rose from the other side of his desk, striding around it and stopping in front of your chair. “You are my type and before you open that mouth of yours to argue, I thought I owed it to you to get my shit together before I did this. I ain’t perfect but I am ready to try.”
God I love me some Beau. 😩😩🙏🏽
“I am. In all of you. But I wanted you to get the best version of me. The one that is emotionally available and that’s taken time.” He’d lean down closer, sliding his hand up your leg, grazing your hip, your ribs, all the way up to your cheek. “I’m ready if you want me.”
We love an emotionally mature man. And I love the "protective and watchful" part of the HC towards the end. 😏
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Soldier Boy/Ben
Ooh here we go. 🤣
It tracks that he already is coming on strong lmao, no regard for what she might be feeling. 🙄
Challenge accepted.
Ooh something tells me he's met his match!! loll She manages to turn his head with that sexy AF leather skirt, huh?
“What a shame. I bet you’d beg real pretty.” Soldier Boy wouldn’t fight the way his breath hitched.
Ooooh so we got a true badass in the house! 😏 She fully got him wrapped around her finger by the end of the night. 💞
Nobody laid a hand on his girl. Not unless they wanted to lose theirs.
Hahaa that kind of jealousy tracks with this guy for sure. 🤌🏽
Russell Shaw
Ooh this one had an interesting setup! The juxtaposition between being in the office vs. out in the field, and then smacking right into the reader in one of my favorite kinds of meet cutes! loll
Also love his adorable "nervous energy." 😂 I think out of all of these, Russell's and Beau's felt like a full on story, and I love that!
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And what a lovely, melt-worthy line that makes me wanna read or write even more Russell:
“I got a beautiful woman right at home and she is all I want. Just me and her. Understand?”
🥰💜
I absolutely loved these, Michelle!! Great job, and can't want to see what other HCs you might cook up next. 💖
Headcanon: How They Meet Their Plus Size Girlfriend
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I'm officially trying my hand at headcanons (only a few years behind the ball there)! If these go over well, I might start to incorporate them more around here.
Special thanks to @zepskies for the idea (okay, it's a little different than we talked about but I think it still fits the bill) and getting me on the headcanon bandwagon! 😘
Warnings: language, implied smutty times, implied body insecurity
Dean Winchester
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Dean’s always been the kind of guy to think if a woman’s beautiful to him, she’s beautiful. Case closed. Which was exactly his thought when he caught a glimpse of Y/N at a dive bar outside of Lawrence. He’d do a double take, not being shy about how he took you in or hiding the smile on his face when he saw you watching him. One quick look away before you were looking back and that was more than enough invitation for him.
He’d be on his feet, at your table in under ten seconds, not deterred by the furrow of your brows. In another ten he’d have laid out one of, in his opinion, his best lines. His confidence fell a sliver when all you did was stare back at him but that was alright. He wasn’t going to give up that easily. 
“Why don’t you try that line on the blonde over there that’s mentally undressing you?” you’d say, fighting back the urge to say something snappy at the ridiculously handsome man in front of you. Before he had even come over, you knew he was trouble, knew his type. He surely had made a bet with the longer haired man at his time and had come over to play a game with you. There was no way in hell he was actually interested, not when there were at least five different women at the bar ready to jump at the chance to take him home.
The man would smirk, lifting his head as if he realized something. To your annoyance, he’d slip into the empty chair beside you, taking a short sip of his beer along the way. He’d adorably rest his elbow against the table’s edge, leaning his head against his hand as he slumped down, all the while smiling at you.
“If I wanted to talk to her, I’d have gone over there. Now you can tell me to get lost or you can give me a chance.”
“Chance to what?”
“Take a beautiful woman home,” he’d grin, looking up through his lashes. You’d laugh, gesturing down to yourself, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Hey now. Don’t tell me when I think a woman is hot and I won’t tell you.”
You’d raise your eyebrows, the mysterious stranger inching closer, lifting his head with a certain boyish mischievousness. “C’mon sweetheart. One drink.”
“Fine. One drink.”
One drink turned into five. One night turned into six. Six nights turned into Dean spending the night and making breakfast for three weeks straight. 
Dean smirked when you let him inside the house, his hands immediately shooting to your hips and pulling you crashing into his chest. 
“Down boy,” you’d teased as he tried to kiss under your jaw, his grip keeping you from returning to the kitchen. “Dean. It’ll burn.”
“We can order takeout,” he mumbled, nipping at your neck. You rolled your eyes, smiling when Dean chuckled. “How’s that one drink working out for you, sweetheart?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you said, Dean walking you back against the front door, his hands shooting to your face, capturing it like he had been starved all day. “Someone miss me?”
“My favorite girl? Always,” he hummed, body jerking when a waft of cherries floated through the room. He tilted his head, eyes wide. “You…made pie?”
“Well you said you like-” He’d slam his lips to yours with an almost bruising force, leaving you breathless before jogging away. “What are you doing?”
“Saving the pie!” You crossed your arms, laughing as he scrambled to put on an oven mitt and yank it out of the oven. “Crisis averted. You didn’t say it was pie, sweetheart. We never let a pie burn.”
He walked back over much slower as it cooled on a rack, Dean placing his hands on either side of your head, a dangerous smile on his face. “Now, where were we?”
Beau Arlen
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Beau would wait a while before making a move on you. He had to prove it to himself that he was ready for another relationship and that Emily was doing better after everything that happened over the summer. So he quietly waited and settled for your friendship. There was no reason in his head to drag you into his crap or jump the gun when he knew it’d cause problems. But he didn’t miss the way you caught him staring during movie nights, dinners, at park yoga (that truth be told he only did at first because Emily’s therapist thought it was something nice to do together but didn’t want to admit he actually enjoyed). 
Beau knew he would be sending conflicting signals. Eyes that said for the love of god I want this, words that said this is platonic as hell. He had to go so far as to keep his hands off of you completely for fear he would break his resolve and just plant one on you. Naturally when he finally felt like he was in a good place to give things an honest shake, you’d tell him on his lunch break that you had a date that night.
“Cancel it,” Beau blurts out. He’d watch you scrunch up your face but he’s already let the cat out of the bag. Might as well go all in. “Go out with me.”
“Beau, we can hang out tomorrow. I want to go out with this guy, see where it leads. I'm not getting any younger. I need to get serious about finding someone.”
“Yeah and I’m serious about going out with you. Let me take you out on a date.” He’d understand your hesitation. He was the one backing off whenever you’d put out feelers in the past. Beau knew he had to go all in if he wanted to earn that trust with you.
“Beau. Come on. I know I’m not your type.”
Beau rose from the other side of his desk, striding around it and stopping in front of your chair. “You are my type and before you open that mouth of yours to argue, I thought I owed it to you to get my shit together before I did this. I ain’t perfect but I am ready to try.”
He’d rest a hand on your thigh, waiting for your reaction, inching up ever so slightly to make it clear that was more than a friendly gesture.
“Beau, I don’t…you never seemed interested-“
“I am. In all of you. But I wanted you to get the best version of me. The one that is emotionally available and that’s taken time.” He’d lean down closer, sliding his hand up your leg, grazing your hip, your ribs, all the way up to your cheek. “I’m ready if you want me.”
“Of course I want you. But…” He’d hum, leaning in close, pressing his lips to yours. 
“But you don’t think I want you?” He frowned when you looked away, his hand catching your chin. “I’m a big boy and you’re a big girl. I think we’re both old enough to trust that we’re telling each other the truth. So go out with me tonight. I promise it will be a million times better than whatever guy you were going to go with.”
It’d take a moment but he’d grin as you texted your date you had a change of heart, Beau already planning the perfect evening together.
Not long after that first date Beau would be spending most of his nights with you, whether that was at home with Emily, out at your favorite bar, or exploring town. He’d constantly have an arm around you, your waist, your shoulders, your hips. Beau liked to keep his girl close. Maybe he’d worked through a lot but he was still protective through and through and that meant he was always watchful of you. Including the occasional stray eye when you were out. Beau always made sure to give them a look to back off and that you were taken. 
“What are you doing?” You’d ask one night, catching him with narrowed eyes. 
“Nothing, dear,” he said, tucking you into his side, forcing a smile. “Just fending off the sharks.”
“Sharks?”
“You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you.” He’d watch you do that thing with your nose which meant you were fighting back the heat trying to rise to your cheeks. But he wouldn’t fight his own, smirking as he kissed you deeply. “Thank god you’re all mine.”
Soldier Boy/Ben
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Ben would make a move on you the second he saw you. Long strides across the club and an arm draped around your shoulders as he almost ignored your presence in favor of order a round of shots. He’d keep you close even as you attempted to pull away, turning his head with a coy smile. 
“Where you going, gorgeous? Didn’t you come out tonight to have fun?” he grinned darkly, enjoying the mixture of disgust at his arrogance and the intrigue hidden underneath your frown. “Someone in a skirt like that is looking for a good time. Well, here I am. No strings attached”
He’d lick his lips as you’d take your shot without breaking eye contact, Soldier Boy’s eyebrows raising in surprise. He wouldn’t have been sure if it’d be that easy but he’d take it. Until he’d watch you down the other shot and turn around, walking off to the dance floor with a wave over the shoulder.
Challenge accepted.
He’d follow you out, letting you take the lead, growing frustrated every time you’d teasingly pull him in only to push away. His desire would only grow when you gave him the slip at the end of the night, no longer a game in his mind. You weren’t simply a conquest anymore. He was curious about the woman in the leather skirt and how on earth she was resisting everything he was offering.
Finally, finally, he’d find you outside the club, leaning against the cold brick wall, hands clasped behind your back.
“Now don’t you run off on me again,” purred Ben, taking your hand in his, eyes dark and hungry. He’d smirk at your feigned disinterest, putting on his most innocent expression he could muster. “My place. Let me do wonderful things to that body of yours, gorgeous.”
He’d take your nonchalant shrug for a yes and before he knew it, he’d have you in his apartment, down on his knees, making good on his promise. Before he could get his head on right though, he’d hear the click of your heels on the marble floor. With a wobble and fixing the tent in his pants, he’d catch you halfway out the door, his eyes wide in bewilderment. “Where you going, baby?”
“Like you said, I was looking for a good time and I had it. I don’t remember saying you were getting any more than that.” He’d lean against the wall, cocking his head and letting the coil in his gut unravel.
“Baby, stay and I’ll keep on chasing you until you’re sick of me. Scouts’ honor.” He’d smile at your laugh, jutting out his lip. “Aw, don’t make me beg.”
“What a shame. I bet you’d beg real pretty.” Soldier Boy wouldn’t fight the way his breath hitched. He’d been with plenty of teasing women before but they always wanted him in control. Something about that threat, promise, whatever it was would make his skin itchy with need.
“Want to see if you can make me?” He’d know his hook was in the moment the words left his mouth, the way your eyes raked over his body. “No one’s ever been able. Think you’re that good?”
“Oh sweetie, you’ll regret that.”
Two months later, Soldier Boy wouldn’t regret it for one second. Not just for what you’d brought out in him in the bedroom. You challenged him, called him on his shit and damn he liked you putting him in his place. He wouldn’t quite understand it but somewhere he likened it to something akin to deeper feelings. Everything had started out at pure sex but there was something about you that stayed under his skin, something that him taking you out on real dates, to movie premieres and parties. Something that made him want this to last. He’d growl at the man that once tried to lay a hand on your ass, not even pretending to be sorry when you’d chastised him for breaking the guys arm.
Soldier Boy knew his anger was quick and he wasn’t the easiest person in the world to deal with but he didn’t care. Nobody laid a hand on his girl. Not unless they wanted to lose theirs.
Russell Shaw
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Russell didn’t love going in the office. He considered the field his true workplace. But every so often he had to go in to deal with contracts, paperwork, or in this case, get reimbursed for a phone that’d been destroyed somewhere along the Amazon river.
So that was how he’d turned the corner too quick and slammed straight into you. He’d fall smack on his ass and look across the way, finding you in a similar position, coffee staining your peach colored blouse and a shattered mug on the ground.
“Oh fuck,” he’d say as he’d notice the red streaks coming from your hand. He’d slide across the floor, pulling the forest green handkerchief he kept on him and quickly covering your bleeding palm. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was an accident,” you’d say, wincing as he tightened it. 
“Let me take you to get that stitched. You shouldn’t drive like that,” he’d say before ducking into a nearby room and alerting an admin to what had happened. Russell would stay in the waiting room the whole time you got checked out and after getting you out of work the rest of the day, he’d take you down the street to his favorite food truck, encouraging you to get your blood sugar back up even if you’d barely lost any in the first place. 
“I’ll happily pay for the dry cleaning or new clothes,” he’d say as you sipped on a glass of sweet tea, finding his nervous energy kind of adorable. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“Well, you know you contract guys. Break into enemy territory in the dead of night? No problem. Walk down a hallway? Now that’s dangerous.” Russell would smile hard at your teasing, more than happy to not have incurred any of your wrath in the long term. He had the feeling you were uncomfortable in your messy clothes though, despite the cardigan you were holding closed with one hand over your shirt. 
A gust of wind would come through and threaten to throw all your food to the ground, both of you reaching and grabbing before it could fall. In that instance, Russell would spot that you weren’t just uncomfortable. Your peach blouse had turned completely see through and was revealing a light pink bra. 
“Here,” Russell said without thinking, shrugging out of his jacket on the cool day and standing, handing it across the table. You’d blink up at him before slowly taking it, holding the much thicker material to your chest. As much he might have liked, he kept his mouth shut about the bra, instead letting you eat your lunch quickly and quietly.
Russell would insist on driving you home with an offer to take you into work to get your car in the morning.
“Sorry about ruining your clothes again,” he’d say on your front porch, holding up a hand when you tried to give his jacket back. “You keep it. Not like we’ll never see each other again, right?”
“Right. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow then.”
Russell would pause halfway down the steps, feeling your gaze on his back. “Do you want to maybe…get dinner later? I don’t have any jobs lined up for a few weeks and I’m a sucker for pink.”
He’d turn around with a hesitant smile, one eyebrow raised as you lifted your chin. “Seven. Don’t be late.”
Russell smirked when he picked you up that night wearing a pink zip up, enjoying the smug look on your face. 
“So where you taking me, Shaw?” you’d ask, Russell opening the passenger door for you. “I normally don’t wear jeans and a hoodie on a first date.”
“Maybe you’ve been dating the wrong men,” he’d wink as he closed the door. “It’ll be fun and no coffee will be thrown or shrapnel will occur, I promise.”
“Oh well, is it even a first date without those?” He’d chuckle, quickly hoping behind the wheel. 
“I guess that makes this our second date then,” he’d shoot back with a smile.
Russell finds out after his first job away that he doesn’t like being away for weeks at a time from you. Phone calls and face time aren’t enough. He puts in a word with his supervisor about taking shorter missions only from then on out. He’s absolutely giddy to pull up to your house when he gets home from the airport, even if you haven’t been answering his texts today.
“Hey,” he says when you answer the door. He doesn’t like the sliver of doubt on your face. “What’s wrong?”
“I should have asked them before but when you go away…are there others?” He’d hate how small your voice sounded, the way you’d rub your arm absently. “I mean, I know we’re new and didn’t really talk about it and you go to some places with some very beautiful women-”
“I got a beautiful woman right at home and she is all I want. Just me and her. Understand?” Russell would kiss away that worry until it was a faded memory, one he would be more than happy to dispel to you over and over again.
___________
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stardustdiiving · 9 months ago
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I LOVEEEE the idea of Wanderer being Nahida’s right hand who covers her lack of physical combat prowess by fighting for her. I need Nahida to have enemies who glower about needing to watch out for The Dendro Archon’s Attack Dog and Wanderer being far more snidely enthusiastic about the concept of being a weapon for Nahida bc he loves feeling useful & physical violence while this always makes Nahida feel inclined to gently remind him that while she does appreciate the help & protection, seeing him as a weapon would make her Very Sad because she Values His Personhood and Friendship (wanderer thinks this is absurd and a very inefficient way to utilize him)
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tennessoui · 1 year ago
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ko-fi fic uploads
hey guys, I'm going to start putting some of my new tumblr prompt fills and writing warm-ups (ficlets of 4k-6k length) up on my ko-fi!!
Monthly supporters will be able to go into the gallery tab on my ko-fi and click on an uploaded image. The title will be which tumblr-based au the ficlet fits into and how many words it is. The description beneath the image will be a quick summary of the au and a link to the google doc containing the ficlet. The "root" au post, aka the post that started the au on my blog, will be linked as well on that google doc.
This will not affect my wips and progress on them in any way! I feel like that's very important to state - I write these sorts of ficlets all the time because it helps get me in the writing mindset for writing ao3 fics. I will just be spending a little extra effort on them to put them up on ko-fi.
I will NOT be posting any ficlets on my ko-fi that you need to read to understand a fic on ao3 - that's some disney monster conglomerate kind of shit. I will also still be posting shorter ficlets (1k-3k) on tumblr as I write them, especially if I'm answering a prompt someone sent me here. Again, I think it'd be a bit of dick move to not do that
I'll try to vary which ficlets go up on ko-fi and every time I upload one, I'll make a post about which au it is as well as a link to the page in case anyone wants to, idk, unsubscribe for a month because they hate the hopeless in coruscant au, and then refollow next month because they enjoy the playmaker au etc etc
I'm definitely still trying to figure out what I want this to look like and what feels fair or reasonable, so hopefully this isn't a huge mess on my end!
All this being said:
I've posted the first ficlet/fic on ko-fi: it's for the Senator Menace AU, an au that's basically "What if phantom menace but reversed? how fucked up would anakin get over the youngling his father master died to protect?"
the first au post is here // my ko-fi is here
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theflyingfeeling · 1 year ago
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I don’t know if I’m just imagining things but I feel like Olli and Aleksi are actually so close 🥺 for example I feel like they post so many pics together and I know they post with others too and it’s not a big deal but e.g. Olli has posted 5 pics with someone else this year and 3 of them are with Aleksi.. so it must mean something right?? 🥺 and I feel like they spend a lot of time together yk even ”outside the band” when they’re having a day off and they still do music (the remix) etc. together 😭
Yeah I mean I for one am so deep in the Olli/Allu delulu land that it's VERY easy for me to agree and confirm all of this 😭 they're boyfriends secret lovers special friends and it shows 🥺
Here are all the pictures of the two of them I could find on Olli's IG, for reference 💞
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+ the group picture Olli posted when Aleksi first joined the band, with the caption 'so now there's six of us' 🥺
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#i left out the one where he's pushing aleksi's and niko's heads in the water 😳#and one from balboa bts with tommi in the background#ngl the anon ask i got yesterday has given me MASSIVE headworms of 2 young guys having thought they had their life all figured out already#and then one day they realise they've fallen for their friend and bandmate 😭#friends to lovers but with troubles in between my most beloved trope in the world 💞💖💗💓💕💖💞#with truckloads of (mutual) pining and just general confusion about what they should do about their stupid (mutual) feelings#(i'd love to read/write something of this sort but i'm too anxious about everyone being all#'boohoo they'd never cheat also you're disrespecting their gfs'#like............first of all it's fiction second of all IT'S FUCKING FICTION third of all i ain't gonna tell 'em lol#obviously i wouldn’t include their actual gfs and OBVIOUSLY i wouldn’t show the fic to anyone who's in it??#i just don't understand how someone could be offended about something they don't know about lol#and OBBVVVIOUSSSLLYYYY i wouldn’t write either of the guys as somehow happy or confident about cheating like come on#there'd be SO MUCH guilt and shame and angst and they’d still love their gfs so much#but then there's also this guy who's their friend and whose stinky socks made them barf once on the tourbus#and who means the world to them. they didn’t mean for it to happen. it just did 😭#anyway sorry for rambling i swear i don't mean to make everything about my silly fic ideas#i just can't help myself and i need a way to let it all out somehow without bothering anyone in particular 😭😭😭)#ollixallu#anon asks#answered asks
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