#not me writing several things but not the fic that gave me the idea for the event in the first place lmao

[triskhellion]

Stuff I wrote over the last few months

For the Mead Moons event:

Second Chance Strays  E | 8.4k | magical stiles | fuck or die | getting together

Thunder E | 12k | werefox-kitsune stiles | rural montana | angst & fluff & smut 

While We Still Have Time  T | 3.1k | road trip | angst w/ a happy ending | getting together

Perhaps (Steter) E | 7.3k | strangers to lovers | mating bites | murder husbands

CLAIM! E | 11.9k | getting together | making up | angst & fluff & smut

The Depths E | 1.5k (WIP) | post-nogitsune stiles | sea creature derek | norway

For Flash Fiction Friday:

Awoo For You T | 1k | est. relationship | crack fic | eurodance

[logaenhowlett]

IF ONLY YOU KNEW PART TWO - L.H.

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of everything that occurred last night, Logan decides it's time to stop running from his desires. [Set during Logan (2017)]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Themes of grief and death, Language

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on part one! Didn't expect it to blow up that much. Good news is, it gave me the motivation to write more, so I have lots of ideas for Logan fics!

MASTERLIST | PART ONE

Over two hundred years, Death had become all too familiar for Logan. A foe that kept barreling in his direction, but always fizzled out before it reached him, instead striking those he cherished the most. When he was younger, he used to revel in feeling of being indestructible, immortal even. That faded away rather quickly once he realised what a curse it was, a cruel joke he grew tired of. Alas, the universe continued laughing.

He thought he could avoid all the unnecessary pain and misery by severing all ties to humanity, retreating to the ends of the world all by his lonesome. But not even the strongest soldier could resist the craving for connection for that long. When Charles had offered a place in his sanctuary, he refused at first, wondering why the universe always seemed to work against him. 

Eventually, the need to distance himself from everything and everyone became smaller. Charles had given him a home, a family, a sense of belonging and after a while, you. Logan was not one for retrospection, but he often recollects how drastically his life had changed once he’d accepted the responsibility of being an X-Man. How he’d gained a new purpose. He owed everything to Charles Xavier.

The shovel in his hand gets heavier by the second. He stops digging for a moment, sensing a whole lot of anger, sorrow and desperation waiting to burst out of him. He knew the end was near for Charles, ever since the incident the old man was barely hanging on. There were times when he wished Charles would just let go, just stop fighting against his mind and body, for his own sake. But that didn’t make his death hurt any less.

His own exhaustion was catching up to him too, having spent the last few days - hell, the last few months - putting everyone else before himself. He hasn’t been able to rest despite all your efforts.

As the last of the dirt falls onto the grave, Logan staggers backwards, his shoulders knock into the tree. He slides against the trunk a little as his knees begin to loosen under his weight, unsure whether it’ll be the adamantium poisoning or heartache that’ll get him first.

Laura’s sniffling snaps his attention, he watches as she curls into your embrace, nothing you were saying stops the tears from escaping. He can see you’re trying to keep your composure for the little girl, but he knows you’re just inches away from completely breaking down. Charles was the father you’d chosen, he had saved your life just as he’d done for countless others, brought you into his arms and gave you something to live and fight for. He knows you’re as defeated as he is right now. Despite every cell in his body aching to comfort you, he understands you need the time and space to grieve in your own way.

After moments of silence, the three of you return to the car. There wasn’t a lot of time left for Laura to find her friends and cross the border to get to freedom. Logan uses that to ground himself to reality, helping her would be a way to honour Charles, for everything he had done and represented. He vows that he’ll grant her wishes, even if it’s the last thing he’ll do. He owes that to Laura, to Charles and to you.

The stars twinkle miles above, painting the night sky with their luminous hue. Logan pulls into the roadside near a lake, deciding it’s in the best interest of everyone to rest tonight. He steps out the car, scouting for a decent place to start a fire. Laura silently accompanies him to gather wood, her eyes follow you as you wander towards the lake, away from the two of them.

Logan senses her need rush to your side, he shakes his head slightly, understanding her distress, “She’ll be okay, kid.” It comes out a little hoarse, having been the first words he’d spoken all day.

All the smoking he’d done in the last two centuries comes in handy, he uses his lighter to spark flames, tending to it before it settles into a calm fire. He runs his hand down his face, his mind has been in overdrive for too long and all he wants is for one moment of quiet. Where he can surrender, stop trying to survive and just live.

“Why are you hiding?” Laura asks him, holding her hands toward the flame.

“What?”

She turns her head to find you in the distance sitting down on the grass with your feet in the water, “From her.”

Logan follows her line of sight, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.” 

“You want to die. Charles told me.”

He scoffs, the name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, “What else did he tell you?”

“To not let you.” She stands, finally meeting his eyes. “Tell her. If you want to be happy.” She doesn’t stick around for his response, instead making her way back to the car to sleep.

Her words strike a chord in him, he huffs lightly, ducking his head into his chest. What the hell did she know? Happiness wasn’t something he envisioned for himself. No, that often came in the form of alcohol or stupid cage fights. He never let himself indulge in anything else, having learned his lessons from what seems like a lifetime ago. 

The leaves crunching under your footsteps draws his attention, you sit down an arm's length away, prodding the fire with a stick. He doesn’t know how to address the giant elephant hanging in between the two of you. Last night, when you’d asked the question, the answer was right there on the tip of his tongue. So easy and so simple. But he withdrew, in such a cowardly manner too, deflecting as if he doesn’t ache for you with each passing day.

“He taught me how to play chess.”

He studies you for a brief moment, the tear tracks on your face shine against the orange hue of the fire.

“We used to sit every day, in the garden, I’d run straight to him after classes were done.” You continue, a fond smile on your face, “I was convinced he was cheating, you know? I never beat him.”

Your resolve crumbles and sadness washes over you once again, “And I never will.”

It dawns on him too, the finality of what had happened last night. He almost laughs at the thought of Charles, beloved by so many, resting in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. The universe is a cynical motherfucker.

If anything, he hopes the man felt proud in his last moments, happy for all he’d achieved in his lifetime. Logan wishes he could be even half the person his mentor was. He always berated him to reach out to those around him. To you. That joy was but a breath away from his grasp, all he needed to do is let you in. He must’ve sensed how well the two of you would get along, how you needed each other’s presence as a pillar of support.

“Why did you keep coming back?”

The question renders him a little speechless. Memories flash across his mind - Rogue, Bobby, Storm, but mostly, you. The two of you had always tiptoed around each other when it came to feelings, at times getting enough courage to finally say something, but never following through.

You stand up, thinking he’s absolutely not in the mood to talk. You don’t blame him either. That’s the thing between you two - there was always some silent understanding of the other.

“You.”

It leaves him so quietly, he’s not sure if you heard him. He’s already looking at you when you turn around, something in your eyes he’s never noticed before. Tell her. If you want to be happy. There’s no reason to hide anymore.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first,” He starts slowly, “You kept… creeping into my life and I… I couldn’t stay away.” A smile, a genuine smile, appears on his face, one that hadn’t graced him in a long while.

“I’ve been around for a long time - more than I should’ve.” He continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “I always… felt like I didn’t deserve to survive. It shouldn’t be me, standing here instead of someone else. But you, being around you… made me want to try.” A weight forms in his throat, he swallows it down, “Try to live not just for you - but for me too. I can never thank you enough for that. For sticking with me, for trusting me, for letting me… love you.”

You close the distance, gently resting your hand against his cheek. He leans into your touch almost instantly, even that simple gesture is enough for him. But you don't end there.

"Logan... I love you too."

He thinks his heart stops, your admission knocks the wind out of him. The old man was right, everything he'd wanted was right in front of him. He leans into you, tilting your chin upwards and kisses you with a burning passion. All the pain he'd suffered sinks to the back of his mind, nothing but a shadow compared to what he's feeling at the moment. When you pull back, doe-eyed and out of breath, he realises this is it. You're it.

In the distance, he catches a smile form on Laura's face, her eyes still shut as she pretends to sleep.

And we're done! Always going to be a happy ending.

[chocosvt]

HER | teaser.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader teaser word count: 1.4k actual word count: 140k (yes, u read that correctly) genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings for the full fic: drug use (weed, coke, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: as i descend to one knee and cup my hands together at your mercy, i offer a tidbit to the wonwoo fic i have finally completed after two years (lol). i know i ALWAYS say this, but i truly wasn't expecting the fic to be THIS FUCKING LONG! thankfully, i planned it well and although i lost momentum countless times (nervously side eyes the approximate & several 5 month breaks i took in between), my dedication to seeing the characters through & "completing" their growth was smth that i could not leave behind!

not having posted a fic for two years is prob a little much :0 so hopefully the length of this makes up for it (?) usually my writing is just teehee silly little romance agonizing slowburn surface level dilemmas of the self BUT THIS ONE HAS A LITTLE KICK!

so read it if you want! don't read it if you don't want!

hearts & flowers, xoxoxo (me :*)

UPDATE: read the first part here!

—MARCH 19TH.

“I have a relatively big favour to ask of you.”

 No. Wonwoo didn’t want anything to do with favours.

The fact that Seokmin had actively picked out his presence in the coffee shop like he was some shiny contortion of plastic had actually offended Wonwoo. He came here for two things: to not be bothered, which his friend knew, and to work on the book he was halfway through typing and had been halfway through typing for the past six months. Call it writer’s block, or an inspiration drought, or an absolutely depressing lack of drive—it had been hanging over the writer with an annoying persistence and it seemed that no number of lemony scones or cold coffees were going to make it vanish.

“Uh, Wonwoo?”

“Sorry… what?” He forced his gaze to shift from the blank page on his laptop to Seokmin’s apologetic, softly expressional face, slightly flushed from his time outdoors in the chilled March weather.

“I was just wondering if you’d be up for a favour—a pretty big one—and I know this is your special creativity spot, but she’s been like, breathing down my neck about it and I can’t put it off again.”

“Whose been breathing down your neck?”

At first, Seokmin didn’t say a word, or even make a sound. His lips twitched for a moment, but then he pressed them together and his chest visibly sucked in with a breath. God, Wonwoo hated the suspense and he hated Seokmin for interrupting him when he had been so stupidly close to putting a sentence down that he probably would have back-spaced in frustration a minute later.  

“Y’know…” he trailed off, “Her.”

Her.

No, not her, you.

But most people—if not everyone—referred to you by an alias that had seemed to stick so well the majority believed it actually was your name. When people said her they meant Her, and so in a confusing mess of finger-pointing they really meant you. Come to think of it, Wonwoo had no idea where the nickname even came from or who gave it to you or what it even meant.

And he was perfectly fine with never knowing.

“What?” Wonwoo deadpanned. “What on earth could she want to do with me? She doesn’t even know me.” He slid down in his chair, fingers pulling at his circle-lensed glasses so they tilted uncomfortably across his nose bridge. “Or, is this a joke?”

“Oh—no! Absolutely not!” His friend was insistent on proclaiming, vigorously shaking his head. “I’m being serious.”

“Why don’t I believe you then?”

“Okay, well, if you let me explain everything, it’ll all make sense. I said I know someone who writes really well—”

“Meaning me?”

“Yes, meaning you. And the only reason that was even brought up is because she wants to write a book.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help it. He laughed—a very short, disbelieving laugh that flashed a transient smile to his face as he readjusted his crooked glasses. You were the last person he would ever envision wanting to write a book. He then navigated the trackpad on his laptop, deciding to close the document simply titled, 01, that harboured the fleet of pages to his own current work in progress.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo disregarded, “sounds like bullshit.”

“I’m telling you the truth!” Seokmin exclaimed, gripping onto the metal back of the café chair like he was squeezing someone’s taunt shoulders. “She won’t tell me about what, okay? Just that she’s been thinking the idea for a while now. It’s not like I didn’t try to get details. But she refused—said the only person who can know is whoever’s going to help her. Look, y’have to understand, she was pestering me about it nonstop. And you’re my only writer friend!”

“Well, you’re about to have none.” He answered, reaching for his coffee cup but stopping it just short of his lips. “How serious is she about this, anyway?” Wonwoo sighed. “Do you know how much fucking time you need to dedicate to writing a book?”

He stomached a slow, somewhat grimacing sip as he tasted the coffee’s coldness, meanwhile Seokmin swallowed heavily, and at last pulled out the chair he’d been white-knuckling to take a seat.

“Yes, I’m aware it takes time. I know that. And she is serious or else I wouldn’t be here, bothering you. She takes everything seriously.” The boy began unbuttoning his sleek black jacket. “Really, who knows what’ll happen? Maybe you’ll meet her once and she’ll decide she can’t stand you, and then you’re off the hook for life.”

“Yeah, well have you ever considered what might happen if I can’t stand her? Are my feelings even being considered? Minutely?”

“Minutely, they are being considered.”

“Liar.”

It wasn’t that Wonwoo disliked you.

In actuality, you scared him more than anything. But to be associated with you was to be drawn into your life and caught like a firefly in a glass jelly jar. The proof was right in front of him—to Wonwoo’s eyes, Seokmin was basically your little mailman that scrambled around in hectic nature to do your bidding, because most tasks apparently weren’t worth the time or effort.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to rope me into this. You know I can hardly write my own shit, right?” Wonwoo said bitterly, wishing it was the opposite, “my mind is a desolate, blank canvas of fuck-all and if she thinks I’m writing it then she needs a reality check.”

“No, no—of course you won’t write it!” Seokmin reassured him with his big, opalescent smile. “Really, you’re just giving tips, maybe guiding her process, helping with the planning… you know, this could be facilitated so much easier if you spoke to Her yourself!”

“So, my nightmare?” Wonwoo huffed, shaking his leg.

In an instant, Seokmin had whipped out his phone, tapping around the screen quickly using his thin pointer finger.

“I’m just going to pull up her schedule. It’s always pretty packed, but more into the summer break, it thins out a little. “

Wonwoo exhaled, staring off into the warm, afternoon sunlight that hailed in through the windows, striking all the shimmering flecks and pieces of dust afloat in the café air. When he breathed in again, he could smell the luxurious coffees brewing in their rich and distinctive notes. It was such a beautiful day—still chilly as the snow outdoors began to thaw—but pleasant nonetheless.

“This is such a fucking waste.”

And Wonwoo spent it being miserable.

“No, it’ll be useful. Trust.” Seokmin chirped.

“You’re trying to dip me in your optimism gloss again.”

His friend smiled affectionately, tilting his head.

“This will be good. You’ve been a hermit since I’ve known you.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo scoffed, “so you think it’s a good idea to shove me with the person I relate to least on the entire planet?”

“Really? The least? So, what you’re saying is, you relate more to serial killers? Or animal abusers? Or like, literal fasc—”

“Stop.”

“You want to do this. I can see it in your eyes. I’ll set you up.”

A part of Wonwoo knew there might be no wriggling out of the situation, especially with Seokmin sitting across from him, characteristically eager and brightly pushy as always, like a goddamn salesman. For now, it could be easier to let himself get cuffed.

“Can I at least have some time to think it over?”

“Uh… well… the thing is… the thing with that is—”

“You’ve cornered me?”

“I wouldn’t word it like that.”

“… Okay.” Wonwoo removed his glasses, shoved his knuckles tender but deep into his eye sockets, massaging through flashes of white as he came to accept a fate he didn’t know even existed in his astrology. “Just, I don’t know—fuck—schedule me in wherever.”

“Ha! It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“I really don’t give a damn how it works, Seokmin.”

“Right,” his friend laughed nervously, “I promise that I’ll get back to you pronto. Sorry for the disturbance. And, uh, good luck.”

 “With what part?” Wonwoo grumbled, fixing his spectacles back on to clarify Seokmin’s sympathetic face, the light bouncing off his head of brassy hair like a disco ball. “My incapability to write a goddamn thing or the fact I have to help your perfectionist friend who’s probably going to chew me up and spit me out?”

 “Both parts.” Seokmin grinned. “It can only go up from here.”

✧✎ a/n: tada!

this is the introductory scene! i think i've read it so many times that i could probably recite it from memory at this point ;_; anyway! as i mentioned, i know that it's been a hot minute since i last uploaded any scenarios. but one way or another this monster is getting posted! i did NOT have this lurking on my poor tired macbook causing it to overheat and sputter and spew FOR NOTHING!!

i swear that i don't plan for my works to get this goddamn long. before i hardly planned at all. maybe now i plan too much? i guess i have yet to find a happy medium!! but again, i do hope the size of the fic makes up for all that missed time :_( life has been ruff. but this fic was there as a handy distraction mechanism (when i prob should have been facing reality fhwejfhwk) so i guess it's been a double-edged sword!

also just want to preface that the reader goes by an alias throughout the fic. i'm not sure if this is like... a very huge or popular concept nowadays? so if it hits your reading ear a bit weird at first i apologize! but i swear it has purpose!! *chekhovs rule* *winkwink*

ANYWAY! no more rambling!

i'm pondering the idea of adding a taglist for those who are interested, just as i did with honey boy :3 so if that tickles ur fancy then feel free to each out!

BUT PLZ HEED THE FOLLOWING:

the fic in its entirety will be split across 6 parts

the word count of each part ranges from 22-24k!

i do not YET have a set posting schedule, simply bc i am unsure of how long it will take ppl to get through each part

(so that would be smth i'd have to gauge afterward)

REVISIT THE WARNINGS!!

i will not be flagging mature/nsfw/triggering scenes throughout the fic as the fic itself already has a heavy nature to it

so pls read the warnings!

if there's any additional questions i encourage u to swing by :3

*deep breath*

THANK YOU!!!!!

[shinyspooks]

literally and non-literally

so. i'm literally obsessed with @zillychu 's fire core au. so i HAD to write this.

note: i imagine this happens sometime between danny actually starting to talk to them and them finding out about the halfa thing- so like, really early bonding/flirting stage?? you'll get what i mean

Warnings: blood mention, Danny kills a ghost off screen. + said ghost's arm gets torn off. this fic is comedy though i promise

Word Count: 1k

Read on AO3

This had been a bad idea.

That was all that Tucker could think, as he and Sam stood under the cover of a nearby half-destroyed building, watching as Phantom beat another ghost to a pulp.

Neither of them had seen the other ghost before, and it seemed that they likely never would again, if the way Phantom was tearing into them was any indication.

Literally, tearing into them, it seemed, as Phantom fiercly bit down on the other’s arm and ripped it clean off, blood splattering down to the pavement, followed by the ghost’s body, slamming down with such force that it made the ground tremble. When the dust settled, the ectoplasmic body didn’t so much as twitch.

“Wow.” Sam said, interrupting the unsettling silence, “That was kinda hot.”

Phantom, arm still in his mouth, turned around with a look filled with so much abject horror that if this was any other situation Tucker would’ve laughed.

Letting the arm drop from his mouth to fall to rest on top of it’s original body, Phantom joined Sam and Tucker on the ground. Well. Sorta on the ground. He got closer to the ground. But he remained floating, as usual.

“Ah-” Sam interrupted him before he could speak, “You’ve got a little-”

She reached forwards, towards Phantom’s face, and he instantly floated several feet back, letting out a hiss. Sam froze, before letting her arm drop to her side.

“Right, no touching.” She said, “But, uh, you’ve got some blood- or, ecto, on your face.”

Phantom almost seemed to hesitate for a second, before using his fist to try and wipe the ecto-blood off his cheek. He didn’t do much other than smear it a little, but both Sam and Tucker decided to not mention it. Phantom floated a bit closer again with a small sigh.

“I hope,” He started, “That when you said hot, before, thatit’s in reference to the literal heat, cause otherwise…”

“Otherwise…?” Sam tilted her head to the side with a smirk. Tucker silently shook his head at her, but she ignored him.

“Because otherwise, you’re a lot crazier than I thought.” Phantom said, crossing his arms with a huff. If anything, Sam’s smirk grew wider at that.

“Hi, I’m Sam, and I’m a lot crazier than you thought I was.” She said, linking her arm around Tucker’s and dragging him in closer to her. “This is Tucker, he’s also a lot crazier than you thought he was. May I know your name?”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Tucker muttered, and Sam lightly kicked his shin, making him sharply inhale. Phantom slow-blinked at them both. Truthfully, they didn’t really need him to tell them his name, they both had a pretty solid guess that he was, maybe, perhaps, the Phantom, but he didn’t need to know that. Besides, when it came to somewhat eldritch or fae-like beings, there were whole things around names, so it was best to give the matter some form of caution.

(And even if it wasn’t a fae-name kind of situation, the fact Phantom had not willingly gave them a name to call him by at this point did imply that they should treat the matter with some delicacy).

“…Nice try.” He said, “It’s not something you need to know, though.”

“Hm, maybe we should try giving you a name then…” Sam trailed off, thinking. Tucker let out a defeated sigh, immediately realizing that she was about to throw their previous caution and delicacy around Phantom’s name away entirely. Phantom looked almost confused, and slightly angry, like she hadn’t gotten his point, but couldn’t even say a word before she was speaking again. “Ah, I know. We’ll call you Casper.”

Phantom slow-blinked again, now very obviously confused.

“You’re choosing, of all things, to name me after the old high-school?” He asked. Now it was Sam and Tucker’s turn to look at him in confusion.

“No?? I- Oh, wait.” The realization seemed to hit them both at once. “You wouldn’t have seen that movie, would you?”

“Movie?”

“Casper, the Friendly Ghost.” Tucker elaborated. Phantom seemed to bristle.

“Ghosts are not friendly.” He said. Sam and Tucker both shared a look that made him glower at the both of them. “Seriously. Ghost’s aren’t friendl- wait, hold on. If you’re naming me- you think I’m friendly?!”

The silence that followed seemed to be response enough for him.

“I’m not friendly. I- you both aren’t just crazy. You’re insane.” Phantom said. Sam seemed to consider something for a moment.

“Hmm… You know, you’re pretty cute too, Casper.” She said, and Phantom sputtered, suddenly dropping to stand on the ground.

“Cute?!”

“Ah-” Tucker suddenly felt the need to maybe do some damage control. Phantom was already a threat enough without a damaged pride. “Of course, you’re very, uh, scary and powerful-”

“In a hot way though.” Sam interjected, “In a non-literal hot way.”

“Sam!” Tucker had to admit that she was objectively correct, but- “You can’t just say things like that-”

“You know I’m right. He’s hot. Both literally and non-literally.” As she said so, she gestured at Phantom, who had taken to staring very pointedly at the ground. Was it just Tucker’s imagination, or was his face turning a little green-

Phantom’s fists suddenly clenched, and when he looked up at them again, it was with a glare in his eyes, the edges of his hair slowly growing more smokey than its usual state.

“Get out of my town.” He hissed, eyes flashing a brighter shade of green. Ah. It seemed they had reached Phantom’s idiocy limit for the day.

Not wasting any time, Tucker flipped Sam’s grip on his arm so that he was the one holding on to her, turned, and started to drag her away at a rather speedy pace.

“Aw c’mon, I was only messing around!!” Sam complained, but still allowed herself to be dragged. From some distance behind them, Phantom tsked.

“Keep playing around like that and you’ll get burned.” He muttered, quietly, but not quietly enough for them to not overhear.

“Was that a pun? Wait- Tucker, the ghost knows puns-” Sam said, planting her feet into the ground. It was enough to give Tucker pause as well, turning around-

Phantom had already vanished.

“He knows puns, Tucker.” Sam continued, “Tucker. We’ve got to bring the joke book next time.”

[zombvic]

VROOM (harry lewis x reader)

summary : in which y/n and harry get invited to go to the silverstone formula one grand prix (2023)

face claim : no one exact

notes : im an absolute noob at writing fics so please excuse the quality lmao. im petrified of posting on here but ive been thinking about starting a blog for over a year. im open to feedback, opinions and any sort of questions/advice is welcome! i happen to waffle a lot so just skip those parts if uninterested. this is my first post so enjoy 😝 also pls request because i have the creativity of a koala so id appreciate some ideas :D

pairings : harry lewis x reader , lando norris x platonic!reader

"WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?! Are you actually serious?" You asked your boyfriend in genuine shock, followed by a laugh from the man dressed in head to toe in Ferrari merch. The red and yellow colors clashed hilariously with the sleek, orange McLaren paddock pass hanging around his neck.

"What? I thought I'd support the winning team." He shrugged, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. You and Harry got invited by the Mclaren F1 team to watch the Silverstone Grand Prix from the paddock. As a Formula 1 fan youself, you were excited to see the cars upclose. To watch the mechanics to the pitstops, engineers do their things (idk what they do lmao) and to watch Max Verstappen overlap the whole grid like seven times. Even since you were a little kid you were amazed by those cars driving freakishly quickly. Now, several years later you get to experience it right infront of your eyes.

"Look, there's Lando!" Harry pointed out, spotting your friend talking to a group of mechanics. You approached Lando, who broke into a wide grin as he saw you. "Hey! There are my favorite YouTubers!"

You beamed. "Lando! It's so good to see you. How's it going?"

"It's been wild but amazing," Lando replied, glancing at Harry. "And I see you've managed to get Harry in the right gear this time."

Harry laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I had a little help with that."

Lando gave you two a playful nudge. "So, who are you rooting for today? Besides me, of course."

You laughed. "Well, McLaren, obviously. But I'm also excited to see how the Brits perform. It's going to be an interesting race."

"That's the spirit," Lando said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Alright, I better get back to my team, but I'll see you guys later? Enjoy the race!"

You and Harry found a spot in the back of Landos garage, it had a view on the screens but also the pit-stop. The whole race went by fast. The moment the lights went out Lando tried his hardest with a deserved P2 at his home race.

Liked by mclaren, f1 & 1,002,485 others.

yourusename mom, i got invited to the silverstone grand prix.. still lowkey in disbelief like wtf.. me?? anyways, tysm mclaren 🩷 enjoy my lovely film camera dump raaaah.

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user harry looking fine as always😍

user y/n and lando finest friends

wroetoshaw whos the first fella hes fit

- yourusername he has a girlfriend..

user i can imagine y/n just walking around taking pictures of everything and everyone 😭😭😭

user i almost melted when they came on the screen

- user me too 😭 forgot i was watching f1 for a second

wroetoshaw i still think i shouldve worn my ferrari outfit #hater

- yourusername youd be sticking out like a sore thumb youre lucky i stopped you #loser #youalmostworepajamapants

user y/n looked so good there 😍

user i LIVE for y/n and landos friendship

faithlouisak i cant believe you chose him over me..

- yourusername im sorry bae.. next time im taking u

faithlouisak finest woman out there

calfreezy wtf fake friends.. theburntchip are you seeing what im seeing ???

- theburntchip bunch of fakies😔

holy what a yap fest lmfao please someone REQUEST something 😭 cause this is too plain.. !

[theotherbuckley]

Happy 2025 from NZ 🎆🎇

I just wanted to come here and say how grateful I am for every one of you in the 911 fandom. You’re all so incredible and have made 2024 such an amazing year.

My blog grew soo much this year and I am forever grateful for everyone who has interacted with me.

Bucktommy happened and wow the fandom and community we have created is so supportive and kind and uplifting. You all never fail to spread joy. From all of the positivity projects and all of the love and support in the form of comments and kudos and reblogs, I love you all so much.

There have been several positivity projects this year which have been amazing. I love when fandom comes together to do amazing and beautiful things.

2024 wasn’t all perfect, there was hate mail and fic stealing and other stuff I don’t want to get into but i think it just made us all come together stronger to uplift each other and I am so forever grateful for that.

2024 brought me closer to so many people. It gave me @diazsdimples who is the sweetest guy who I’m so incredibly grateful to know, and who I get to actually go see in person next week 🥰

I am grateful for all of the friends tumblr and fandom has given me @hippolotamus my bfs wife 😅 who’s always so kind and amazing. @lavenderleahy who I connected with through love of crochet 💜. @snarkythewoecrow who beta-ed my fic one time and turns out they’re super cool <3. @bidisasterevankinard who started writing Bucktommy before it was a thing and is always so great to talk to 💜 I have loved talking and interacting with all of you there’s so many amazing people in this fandom I wouldn’t be able to tag everyone. @buffaluff made fanart of one of my fics which was so incredible and overwhelmingly special 💜 @steadfastsaturnsrings who always brings positivity and is always there to talk to 💜 @tizniz who sent me little!Buck fics inspired by @actualalligator there’s actually so many of you amazing people. @actuallyitsellie and @perfectlysunny02 (another two amazing people to talk to) @wikiangela (my first and beloved 911 mutual who has written some spectacular bucktommy fics this year) @diazheartsbuckley @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @watchyourbuck (who simply has the best content of any kind) @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars  @underwaterninja13 @daffi-990 @aspecbuddie @bucks-daddy-issues @monsterrae1 @doctorkinney @pirrusstuff @babybibuck @lonelychicago (who has the most amazing artwork! and made a cute buddie positivity project) @rogerzsteven (who’s been on hiatus but who I love talking to) @bucksbignaturals (connoisseur of all ships) @spotsandsocks @loucifersbitch @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @louvemeanyway @weewookinard @half-oz-eddie (founder of an amazing positivity project as well as hilarious tweets and texts) @xofemeraldstars (became the blog to see gifs and images for bucktommy) @hyperfocusthusly @sherlocking-out-loud @desert--moonchild @bucked-it-up (who gave me the idea for my fic) @swagmaster9k (who you know will always reblog your posts 😅💜) @bigfootsmom (incredible artist and writer for so many ships and aus that never fail to make my jaw drop because they’re always so beautiful) @laundryandtaxesworld @thatmexisaurusrex (the best long form bucktommy fics) @louisferrignojr (who founded an amazing bucktommy community) @girlwonder-writes (who founded another wonderful community) I have well hit the tag limit so I just hope you come across this anyway. I want to tag so many more of you. I sadly can not tag all of my mutuals but just know that if we are mutuals I am so incredibly grateful for your existence. Please never hesitate to reach out to me to talk about absolutely anything 💜

You are all incredible I do not have enough words to express it. To everyone I didn’t interact with as much this year I hope to interact and talk to you all in 2025. I hope you all have an amazing new year and I look forward to what’s to come.

In my own “real” life I start medical school this year which is such and honor and privilege that I didn’t expect and I’m so excited for the journey to come. This year was tough finishing my degree and coping with pains but I can’t believe it but I’ve made it here now. I hope to continue writing in my free time (ha what free time) and I hope this fandom continues to bloom and thrive. This year I posted 13 911 fics on ao3 and a bunch of ficlets on tumblr and which for me is amazing. I also have heaps of wips still unpublished. My first ever 911 fic breached 20k hits which is insane - especially because it’s a hurt no comfort 🫣.

An insane and slightly concerning fact is that I have read over 40 million words of fanfic this year (just beating last year of 37mil) which is… um… lots. Sadly next year it’s likely I won’t have the time to read as much but you bet I’ll try 😅 fanfic is a safe space and home for me. I am so grateful for everyone who posts amazing works for free. We are all so lucky 💜

I’m excited for 911 to be back in March and can’t wait to see where they head their storylines 💜 thank you all for making 2024 amazing and here’s to 2025 which I hope will be even better 💜

[justwinginglife]

Wait For Me

Inspired by ideas from @adaizel (my dude, you really do be milking the longest fics out of me lmao I appreciate you though)

You'd known Soshiro Hoshina your whole life as both of you came from respectable kaiju-slaying clans, and though you knew most everything about him, you wanted to ignore one particular thing about him- that he was probably not into you.

Having seen you in diapers and then seen you in braces, you were more likely to be seen as a little sister to him rather than a love interest. He'd bandaged you up too many times after you got hurt and wiped your snot from your tear stained face too regularly to think any different. You denied the painful thought frequently though, continuing your active pursuit of him.

He was several years older than you, but you never stopped trying to remind him that you were a woman.

You recalled the first time you'd ever worn a bikini in front of him. He'd wanted to take you swimming in the ocean, the way he always did every summer, and you thought that it was high time that you show off what the lord gave you. But unfortunately, if he was shocked or awestruck at all by the lack of coverage over your body, he didn't show it. Even when you'd jumped in the air trying to hit a beach volleyball and your boobs had bounced their way to kingdom come, he still didn't react.

It made you want to try anything to get his attention. Suck a popsicle a little too hard, little too deep. Dry your dripping body off with his towel, because oops you forgot one. And you even made sure to drag the towel extra slow in between your legs.

Eventually you resorted to trying out different hairstyles and different makeup to try and get any sort of reaction from him. You thought the man should try gambling because he had one hell of a poker face, always treating you the exact same as he always did.

You thought it might be hopeless after all, but you had found out that Soshiro planned on leaving to join the Defense Force soon and you didn't want to give up on him, not after having pined for him your whole life. You felt you needed some sort of closure at least.

You already knew your parents would never let you follow him into battle, you were the sole heir to the clan. It was your duty to run the household, settle down, make more heirs. But before you resigned yourself to your fate, you needed him to know how you felt even if he didn't return the feelings (though you desperately hoped he did).

Your heart pounds as you begin to write him a letter and then you think your heart might just give in and collapse as you hand the letter off to your lady's maid to deliver to him.

Soshiro had been packing the last of his things in the dead of the night, getting ready to ship out in the morning, when he got your letter. He reads it over carefully, his eyes widening as they trail down the page. He rereads it again, making sure he didn't misinterpret.

Then he slips his shoes on quick as he can, and makes the short walk to your house, knocking gently on your bedroom door.

You open the door and smile when you see him but when you notice the letter in his hand and the solemnity etched into his face, you know he's not here to deliver good news. Before he can say anything, you begin to speak, wanting to get your words out before the tears come. "Can you- can you just wait for me? Please? Wait for me to be someone you can love? I'll be finished with my lessons soon and they say I'll be the lady of the house in no time at all. I can come visit you when I find the time. I can... I can make it work. Just please. Wait for me."

He holds both of your hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. For the first time in your life, you see his poker face wavering. He musters up his best smile for you, but it's not the sweet smile you know, it's apologetic from top to bottom.

"Thank you... for entrusting your feelings to a fool like me. If I'd known how you felt... well never mind that. I can't change what I would've done just as much as I can't change the different directions we're going in. We- we're living separate lives now, darling. And I can't wait for you, much as I'd like to. I need to do this, I need to go. And you have to stay here. I can't take you with me. Please forgive me."

With every word he says, the tears spill out more and more aggressively until all you are is a quivering mess, watching your one and only true love fade from your life.

"You'll forget me soon enough." He whispers as he pulls you into a quick hug, then he wipes your tears and begins to walk away.

Before he fades from view completely, you yell at the top of your lungs, not caring that it's the middle of the night, "I'd never forget you! I'll wait for you then! I'll always wait for you."

All you can see is his back, and you wonder if he heard you. If he smiled at all. If he reacted at all.

Then he rounds the corner and disappears with all your hopes and dreams.

You fall to the floor, knees crashing against the hard surface, but they don't hurt nearly as much as the ache in your empty chest.

You don't get a good sleep that night. In fact, you don't get a good sleep for many nights to come.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soshiro made Vice Captain of the Third Division rather quickly. The view from the top (he was told) was supposedly rather glorious, but when he got there he found it empty and lacking, realizing there was no one to share in his triumph. No one to cheer on his victory, to tell him they knew he could do it.

Then he thought of you again. It'd been years since he'd seen you but he still thought of you. Nearly everyday, against his will. He'd tried to force the feelings down, tried to ignore the picture of your tear-stained face in his mind, tried to stop hearing your voice echoing in his ears. He'd stayed up late training every night, until the ache in his heart was drowned out by the aching in the rest of his body. He'd even gone on random dates with random women to try to break the cycle of dreaming about you day and night, but he'd hear your voice in someone's laugh or he'd see your sparkle in someone's eyes, and he knew he couldn't deny himself any longer.

Trying not to love you was like trying to stop the push and pull of the waves, or trying to stop the rotation of the Earth, it couldn't be done.

He opens the top drawer of his desk again. Your letter is sitting right there, where he'd left it, for easy viewing access whenever he felt like wondering about what could've been. Wondering about how you're doing, about who you're with.

Do you still visit the secret spot he'd found for the two of you? Do you still play the violin, the one that he bought you? Do you... still love him? Did you wait for him?

The downward spiral of his thoughts sends him into a frenzy, as he hurriedly jams random clothes into a suitcase with just one clear thought in mind- he wants, he needs to see you. He needs to smell you, to hear you, to tell you how he feels. To make up for making you cry. To make up for all these years of lost time. To beg you for another chance. To let you love him. To let himself love you.

Captain Ashiro approves his hasty request for leave (having never seen the man take any time off at all in the many years he'd been in the Defense Force) and soon enough he's on the first bullet train back to his hometown.

He knocks on the familiar wood of your front door. His hands are shaking and his mind is scattered, filled with endless, useless, worrying thoughts, but he knows when he sees you everything will be okay. If he can just see you again, he'll know what to say, he'll know what to do, he'll be whole again.

The door opens and his smile is at the ready, waiting to greet you, but it's your mother that answers the door and his lips freeze mid-smile. He listens intently, his heart dropping into his stomach, as she explains that you've eloped with his brother- Soichiro.

He tastes salt and he realizes he's crying on your doorstep the way you did for him all those years ago. He hurriedly wipes his cheeks and thanks your mother quickly, before backing away. She gives him a sympathetic look as he stumbles down the street, lost in a daze.

For the first time in years, he doesn't know what he wants. What he should do. But he still needs to see you, married or not, and that desire drives him to get onto the next train to the Sixth Division.

When he arrives, it looks like they're throwing some sort of party. He checks his reflection in a nearby window, making sure the crying he did on the way here isn't visible in his eyes or his cheeks. When he's fixed his hair and adjusted his collar to his liking, he heads into the main building.

He asks around and it appears they're inducting a new Vice Captain.

He watches from the back row as the new Vice Captain takes the stage, waving and grinning. His heart roars in his chest when he realizes it's you.

Your speech is sweet and short but he hangs onto every word, watching your lips as they move.

Then you step down from the stage and the ceremony is concluded. Officers start to file out of the room and then eventually it's just you and him.

He lifts a hand awkwardly, giving you a little wave.

He thinks you might ignore him. Thinks you might turn around and walk away. Leave through the nearest exit. Run through the nearest exit, desperate to get away from him. From the man who broke your heart.

But he never could've expected what you'd do.

You do run but you run towards him, leaping into his arms.

He's shocked but he quickly pulls himself together and pulls you tight against him, inhaling the sweet scent of you. He doesn't want to talk about what happened or what is going to happen when you finally let go, he just wants to hold you and let this be enough. But the erratic beat of his heart isn't satisfied with just holding you. He needs to make you his.

He pulls away and grabs your hands, checking for a ring. He almost cries again when he doesn't see one.

You laugh, looking at him puzzled. "Yes? Something you need?"

"You're... you're not married." His breath is so shaky it's a wonder he was able to form words at all.

"I said I'd wait, didn't I?" You whisper, pulling your hands away from his so you can cup his face and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs.

Now he starts crying.

You kiss the tears away from his cheeks. "Hey, I don't remember you being such a crybaby. What happened to the tough Vice Captain of the Third Division?" You tease him but your voice is still soft, filled with concern at his sudden burst of emotion.

"H-he's not here right now. Just me. Just a man who's in love with you, wondering if you can still find it in you to love him back."

You smile warmly at him and he thinks he might just die now and go to heaven, having finally seen your smile for real and not just in his haunting dreams.

"I said I'd wait, and I have. I'd wait a thousand years for you. I'd wait more than that. It's you, it's always been you and it always will be."

He sighs, relieved. He takes you in his arms again, pulling you close and trailing kisses all over you. Then he freezes.

"Wait, I heard you ran off to get married with my brother?"

You laugh and the sound is enough to melt his heart and ease his nerves. "Well I guess that's partially true. I mean I did run away with him but only to join his division, that's it. I was hoping to run into you."

Soshiro squeezes you tighter, afraid if he lets you go this might be a dream. "So marry me then."

The waves continue to push and pull, the Earth continues to spin on its axis, and Soshiro continues to love you immensely and infinitely the rest of his entire life.

[ponderingmoonlight]

hi, <3

I've been working for a week now, so I don't have time to send you ideas, but there are SO MANY in my head.😭😭😭 I do not know what to do!!!I think you've already guessed that I'm in love with Nanami's dad!! He's so cute as the father figure.Imagine that Kento and his wife had their first child (a girl) and when Kento comes home to his daughter and wife, he sees that his daughter is wearing a small bodysuit with the text “I love daddy” and Nanami just looks and is touched. DADNANAMIDADNANAMIDADNANAMI🤤🫦

Okay I cried my eyes out while writing this and the cover sent me over the edge 😭 But THANK YOU SO MUCH for that precious request my love, let me know what you think <3

Nanami's reaction to his daughter wearing a jumper saying "I love daddy"

Pairing: Nanami x wife!reader; Nanami x fem!daughter

Word Count: 1,3k

Synopsis: After the incidents of Shibuya and his wife getting severely injured, Nanami is relieved to know his new family safe and sound. A little suprise from his precious wife seems to be enough to make a grown man cry in joy though...

Warnings: cuteness overload, this had me balling in the best way, might be the comfort you need this is canon

This is like a spin-off to the "Haruta seeking revenge on Nanami's heavy pregnant wife" fic - just click on it to read it first!

To say the last few months were a trip to heaven and hell at the same time would be an understatement. Despite the horror the Shibuya incident caused, even though the attack of Haruta left both you and your precious baby to risk, you somehow made it all out alive. Kento, you and the little angel of daughter you gave birth to exactly one month after Shibuya.

“I’ll leave in five minutes, regardless of what you have to tell me afterwards”, he sends towards the man in front of him who is asking him for the hundredth time about the Shibuya incident.

Finally, this way too long day is over. A day without seeing you the whole time, a day without his little one by his side. Due to the fact that delivering your baby girl was rather difficult after the severe wound wasn’t healed yet, Shoko prescribed strict bed rest for you within the next few months. You are barely able to stand up on your own, let alone go to the toilet. Most of the time you lay on the couch with your daughter by your side, watching your favourite show on TV until you greet him with the brightest of smiles.

But even though every minor step causes you visible pain and it’s hard for you to be on your own, you insisted on him continuing doing his job. After all, somebody has to take care of poor Yuji when you’re not around. And since Gojo is gone, whole Jujutsu High seems to be an endless mess. Yes, somehow you did eventually convince him of leaving you every single morning. Even though he hates letting go of you after what happened not long ago.

“I will leave now”, he announces before grabbing his suitcase and walking away without waiting for an answer.

In the meantime, it’s hard for you to sit still.

“Come on angel, please hold still for a second. We just need leg number one, leg number two, and…There you go!”

Your eyes almost overflow with joy, just staring at the tiny jumper your daughter wears makes you feel emotional all over again. Kento worked so much these last weeks, making sure that especially Yuji feels better after all those things that happened to him during Shibuya. And the fact that you’ve got severely injured…You’ll never forget the look of horror on his face when you collapsed into his arms, Shoko making it just in time before everything went black. For the split of a second you thought everything is over, that this will be the last time you’ve seen your husband. Oh, how you begged Shoko to save the life of your unborn child instead of yours, how you held onto Kento’s hand for dear life.

But seeing that bundle of joy laying in front of you, giggling happily while kicking her tiny feet in her brand-new jumper…You have to read the words all over again, the simple writing that says “I love daddy”. You were mindlessly scrolling through baby stuff when it caught your attention, thinking about how your beloved husband would react to it. There was absolutely no way out of ordering it.

“Daddy will love to see you in this.”

Just the thought of how Kento will react makes you kick your feet too, smiling down at your giggling daughter. Even though every little movement sends a wave of pain through your entire body, you try to stay as positive as possible. The discomfort will go away eventually, but the joy Kento has gifted you with will stay forever.

You can sense him before he put the key into the lock right away, heart pounding so hard that it feels like jumping out of your body.

“This is out time angel”, you whisper into your daughter’s tiny ear before sitting up and staring at the door in sheer excitement.

Nanami’s heart skips a beat when seeing you, looking so adorable dressed in his way too big t-shirt and sweatpants.

“What are you smiling about, sweetheart?”

The second he lays his eyes on your flawless face decorated with that breath-taking smile, he is lost all over again. But by now it’s not only you who awaits him. No, next to you curled up on the couch lays the little bundle of joy that makes his happiness complete.

“I’m just so glad your back! How-ah…”

A minor groan escapes your lips as you try to sit up straight, Kento instantly rushing to your side.

“Hey, think about what Shoko said. No need to rush, we have the whole evening for ourselves, darling”, he gently speaks out, his hands caressing your back moderately.

He hasn’t seen it yet, the blanket on top of your daughter hiding the jumper very well from him. But you can’t contain your excitement any longer. For a moment, you’ll have to put your aching aside.

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to show you…”

Your husband tilts his head to the side, a tender smile creeping up his face before he can stop it. You look so utterly excited that he can’t help but wonder what you mean.

“I wonder what leaves you this excited.”

“Well, there aren’t many things apart from you that get me excited”, you reply with a sly grin.

“But maybe you should take a closer look at your daughter.”

Your heartbeat picks up even more as soon as he looks at your precious little angel, hand gently brushing over her tiny cheek. Slowly, he lifts her off the couch, blanket falling down and revealing her new jumper. You hold your breath, your husband’s eyes locked onto her body.

“I love daddy”, he reads out loud.

His smile widens, eyes turning glossy in pure admiration. Oh, how much he adores you, how much he loves you in every single way. Why does he suddenly turn this emotional? Why does the sheer sight of his daughter with a jumper saying “I love daddy” make him tear up? The last months were so rough on him, it was never granted that he’ll be able to hold his daughter like this while you sit next to him. For a few horrible seconds, he thought he lost you both.

But now you’re here. And you really think that he’s a good dad.

“Words can’t express how much that means to me…”, he mumbles, pressing his daughter against his chest and closing his eyes.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you cry love”, you instantly reply while getting up from the couch way too quickly.

Your husband catches you just in time before you fall back onto the couch, his free hand wrapped tightly around your waist while his daughter rests against his shoulder.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me, (y/n). And to top it all off, you gifted me this beautiful daughter. You are so strong, I am so proud of everything you have done these last few months.”

His words his you in your feelings with full force. Despite the fact that you are a strong and composed woman, tears start to stream down your face like a waterfall while your gaze never leaves his. God, how much you love that man, how thankful you are for the fact that he survived. And for the bundle of joy that rests against his shoulder. You never thought your life would turn out like this, eventually. A snack of a husband holding you tightly in one hand while carrying your daughter with the other.

“I love you, Kento Nanami. That jumper says nothing but the truth”, you hush lightly.

Oh, Kento will definitely make sure of that.

“I love you too, sweetheart. And you, my little angel.”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez

[edgeray]

mygod that siren Arlecchino fic you did is *chef's kiss* IMMACULATE!!! might i request a continuation, mayhaps? Arle mentioned that she'd follow the reader as they sail, so maybe she misses them and either tries to climb onto the boat or the pier where they're docked to see them again? either hurt/comfort or fluff, the rest is up to you!!! love your work and thank you for fueling my Arlecchino obsession :] also i might pop back in here once in a while, may i be moth anon?

The Sea's Calling Pt. 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Part 1 link here. Yes, you definitely can be a moth anon! Hi :D. I already added you to the anon list. To other anons that have requested and I haven't gotten to, I do see your requests and if you gave yourself an emoji/name I already added you ^^. Anyways, back to moth anon. <333 I'm so glad you enjoyed my siren Arlecchino fic! As my first request I was kind of nervous about it but I'm glad that you enjoy! I'm also really glad that you sent this request! I did always want to write a part 2 but didn't have the opportunity until now. Thanks moth anon, for the reuqest and for enjoying my works!!  If you couldn't tell, I love the idea of found family pirates. One Piece did this to me. The ending turned out to be self-indulgent, forgive me moth anon ;) Even though it's short, this ended up being one of my favorites. Hope you like this one! Content warnings / info - monster x human, arle is ooc bc she's a siren, fem! reader bc pt.1 has fem! reader, suggestive at the end, 1.2k words

You used to think that the most beautiful thing out there was the sky and its stars–to you, nothing was more mesmerizing than them. They are so alluring despite holding this mystique, and they've guided humans on their naval journeys and inspired all kinds of stories of their origins. The stars were all that kept you company, even on the lonliest and coldest nights.

Now, however, the stars aren't your only company. 

“Guys, I'm going to go back to the ship. Don't wait up on me too much,” you to your fellow pirates as you stand up from the stool. You drop off some extra coins on the baa counter, in order to compensate for the plate that you will be ‘borrowing.’ You pick up the plate of your half-eaten slice of meat pie and sandwich and head towards the exit before one of your crew mates stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Turning in already? C'mon, stay a little bit. We've got enough money for a few more rounds of beer,” he says with a boisterous laugh. You chuckle lightly but shake your head. 

“No can do, sorry. Got something to do.”

“Uh huh, like your little siren girlfriend?” Another crew member states, her teasing smile widening as you flush. 

“One more? Jackie hasn't finished his story!”

“Let the darned woman go see her darn girlfriend, Goldie,” another gruffed with a shake of his head. 

“Fine, fine, go on ahead. Tch, when will I get my own smoking hot siren girl?” Goldie huffs, and you snort. Likely never, but you don't tell him that.  

“Thanks, I'll be back,” is all you say before rushing out of the door, nearly tipping over the plate before you balance it again. You wave them off and you make your way back to the docks. The walk is both short and long, and each step you take is filled with the excitement that buzzes through you. 

Even after these months, being able to spend time with her feels like bliss, like you have just found treasure. Sometimes, you forget she's a siren, she's ever so endearing and follows you around like a puppy. Oftentimes, when you're on the boat, you talk to her as she lingers by. The night after you first met the siren your crew had banned you from jumping into the waters because you had developed a cold which infected a good chunk of the crew; the cold wasn't severe for anyone but still. Since you can't be in the water, you often just talk to her from the railings and she answers. 

It's only when you're docked when you can finally touch her, but those times come rare. It can take days, sometimes weeks to reach an island to dock at, but when you do, you always take the time to sit by the shore. 

Finally, you arrive at the pier. “Arle?” You call out, and you see a ripple in the water. Grinning, you walk to the ends of one of the docks, setting down the plate a bit away from you. You remove your shoes and set them far away. Perching on the dock, your feet dip into the cold waters and you shiver.

You see something gleam in the corner of your eyes, the familiar shine of her scales. You then remember the food, and you start. “Wait, Arle don't splash–”

Too late. Something erupts from the waters and launches into you, a cold, heavy weight thrusting into your body making you tumble on your back on the dock. Pressed between the wooden planks and the creature that straddles you, you can't help but laugh and raise your hand up to her face, the now drenched food forgotten entirely. 

“Hey gorgeous,” you say as you stroke her cheek gently. She's the most beautiful treasure that you found among the seas. Arlecchino gazes down on you, her red pupils glistering as her arms wrap around your torso. She purrs, little fangs apparent as the tip of her tongue peeks out with her open-mouth smile. 

“Missed you,” is the first thing she says, before she leans her body against you, nuzzling her face into your neck. Your clothes get soaked from her, but you pay no mind. You stroke her wet hair, carding your fingers through her strands before kissing the top of her head. 

“I missed you too. Did you eat recently?” 

Sometimes she'd disappear for a few nights to search for another wandering ship for her meals but she never fails to find your ship again. You haven't seen her for a couple days before you docked her. 

Arlecchino nods. “Human food?” She questions. Her tail flicks, thumping against the wood out of eagerness. Although she enjoys the taste of cooked meats, beef especially, you don't believe it's as nutrition dense as… well, the main source of her diet, and it's hard to serve her cooked meat while on sea due to the issue of storing meat on ships. So, cooked meat has always been a treat for her. 

You nod. “You want to try?” 

She lets out an affirmative purr, and you help her sit upright in your lap. It's always a bit difficult considering she has a tail instead of legs, but she maneuvers her tail to encircle your waist, and you support her back with one of your arms. You silently mourn for your now soggy sandwich as you reach for the plate, using her tail as a flat surface. 

“What is it?” 

“Meat pie and a sandwich.” You take the fork and dig out the meat from the meat pie. Balancing the tender piece of beef on your utensil, you carefully guide it to her mouth. 

“Careful, it's hot. And don't bite the fork this time,” you gently warn her as she eats it. She squirms a bit in your lap, an indicator that she's pleased with the taste. 

“More?” You chuckle, adoring the cute plea in her eyes. 

You scrape out more of the meat until she's eaten all of the pie filling, leaving you to eat the pie crust. You're still peckish, so you start eating your sandwich, but not before fishing out the thick slice of ham from it, and giving it to her. If it meant you could watch the way her expression lights up again forever, then you would endlessly eat ham-less sandwiches and savor every cheese and vegetables sandwiched in between wet bread. 

“Did you like it?” You ask in between chews as she leans her head against your shoulder. She nods, and leans up again to place featherlight kisses on your neck. With the cold droplets of water and her frigid lips, it tickles you and you giggle. So adorable. 

You freeze up when you feel her fangs prick your skin and she looks up to you for permission. Another mating bite? You nod, wordlessly giving her permission, and you suck in a harsh breath as you feel her teeth sink in. Purrs vibrate coarse through her mouth as she pulls away, lapping at the mark and the texture of her tongue invokes a throaty groan from you, your body trembling with pleasure. 

Arlecchino leans away, but in her eyes, hunger burns in them. Her hands take purchase on your hips and she pushes your back against the planks. Her tail unwinds around your torso and instead coils around your ankles, securing them together.  

“H-here?” You question, flushing. Her hands wander lower, the sharp nails trailing lower to your thighs, where faint scratches scatter. 

The night that you first met her, she sang so beautifully for you. Tonight, you repay her back, singing out her name so tastefully. 

[writersrkive]

hi!! i just read your spencer fic about telling him not to shut up. i specifically loved the fact that the reader’s first language isn’t english, i feel like the majority of the fandom doesn’t have english as their first language.

could you write something where the reader’s first language isn’t english and they’re having trouble with their paperwork because people tend to use a lot of difficult words, and spencer notices it and helps them out? maybe reader often stays late to finish working because they need to read sentences multiple times to fully understand them?

if you don’t feel like writing this feel free to skip or write anything else <3

(it’s getting late for me here but i look forward to reading more of your work when i come back from work tomorrow :)

have a good day!!

A little help never hurts | Spencer Reid

summary: Paperwork days are hell, especially for you, since English isn't your first language. You don't say anything to any of your coworkers because you're afraid they will see you as incapable of doing your work, but one genius boy might have been looking at you a lot and definitely notices something is wrong. He is determined to help you. An extra help never hurts, right?

genre: fluff, comfort

pairing: early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: English isn't reader's first language, mention of reader being from another country (I think that's all, but let me know!)

a/n: Omg, my second request! I loved the idea, thanks! I hope you like it rebel-ezra (does this notify you when I answer your inbox or do I have to tag people when it's not anon? lol, sorry). I'm excited to see how much you enjoy this one, and I'm sorry if it's not as good as you expected. English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Happy New Year, reader! I hope you can get distracted a little with this fic if, if you need to. You did it! Next year we have more people, places and things to know, hugs!

important: Are you guys interested in being in a Criminal Mind's tag list for my fics? If that's the case, let me know in the comments, please. I might be doing one if there's enough people.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

The feeling of pressure on your head and the emptiness of your stomach has stressed you since a few hours ago. You didn't have anything to eat since the doughnut and cup of coffee that García offered you in the morning when she arrived. But you weren't close to going home.

Paperwork was always a pain in the ass, but especially for the poor newest member of the BAU. Why is that? Well, your mother language wasn't English, and of course you had a good level —otherwise you wouldn't have the opportunity to study and work in the U.S.A.—, but the documents were too formal and technical given the seriousness of the issues being discussed.

“Shit.” You whispered, typing a new confusing and complicated word on your computer for the third time in an hour.

“Hey, do you want to go to my place after work? Tonight seems like a free night, if duty doesn't call.” Emily had approached you with a warm smile, knowing that paperwork was never easy.

“Thanks, Em. But I think tonight I'm going home to rest. It's been a long week.” But you gave that answer because at that point, it was routine to stay way later than your workmates.

Spencer was coming back from the bathroom, ready to take his stuff and go home. It was really late, so he thought he was the only one besides Hotch in the office. However, he saw you at your desk: your head resting on a dictionary, the computer next to you and several post-it notes stuck in the drawers of your desk.

He called your name twice, but of course the sleep you were immersed in did not allow you to hear it. Footsteps were heard in the darkness. There were just a few desk lamps on, that's why he was able to see your peaceful expression. He touched your shoulder slightly and when you opened your eyes, all you saw was a shy smile.

“Reid, what's wrong?” You asked, feeling your head throbbing.

“Are you okay? You fell asleep.” He whispered.

“Oh… Yeah… I'm okay.”

“Are you sure? You seem pretty tired. It's late so maybe you should go home”

“Don't worry. I have work to get done anyway.” You sighed, remembering how you still had to review a quarter of documents.

“What? But you have been working on this for hours.”

His comment made you blush. Of course you haven't told anyone how hard it was to review every document twice or even thrice to be sure that you didn't misunderstand or mistranslate anything. Somehow you felt that if anyone knew they would criticize or mock you. Not that you thought about your coworkers being mean, but through your journey of learning another language and moving from your country, you met all kinds of people. Also, you didn't want to be seen as weak or incapable of doing your job.

“Today was just a lot, that's all.”

“You usually work quickly, though I think I know what's going on. You keep a dictionary on your desk and usually carry a pocket version in your backpack, the days when you leave work late are paperwork days and you usually close the translator tab on your computer as soon as someone approaches your desk.” He explained looking around your stuff as if he was analyzing everything. “Is it about the language?”

“Yes, yes it is, okay? There, I said it!” Your frustrated tone made Spencer realise how tired you were about the situation. You didn't even try to deny it, you just hid your face around your arms, leaning on your desk —as if you were recreating the position he found you asleep previously—.

“Hey, but what's wrong with that?” He asked softly.

“What do you mean ‘what's wrong with that'? I'm supposed to understand everything that is on the documents, but I become slower because I have to verify and translate information that I don't understand because it is a more technical language.” The words were audible enough to him even though your face was still hidden.

“Do you realize English isn't your first language, right?” He tried to get you to look at him, but it didn't work. “Everyone in this work has difficulties when it comes to other languages. You don't have to feel bad because it's happening to you.”

“Does it happen to you?” Your shy eyes met his.

“Not really.” He answered with a hint of a cocky smile.

“See?”

“Well, I didn't say anything about me, you were the one who asked. Besides, I'm trying to be more sociable.” His comment made you chuckle slightly, but that chuckle became a laugh when you repeated what he said in your mind. “You are really funny, do you know that?”

“A-Am I?” The way you were looking at him, with a tired, yet cute, expression and a little smile, made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah…”

“Well, I can also be of great help at work. Let me help you with the files.”

“It's not necessary.”

“It is. You need to rest, so let me get started while you go to the machine for something to eat. A little help never hurts.” He whispered, already taking the documents.

“Fine.”

A few minutes later you returned with an open package of cookies. You stopped for a moment, admiring the furrowed eyebrows of the genius boy who was reading the files with a lot of attention. Then you realized how fortunate you were for having coworkers like him. Or maybe was he himself the one who was so amazing that you would never get tired of working with him.

“Agent. Can I talk with you for a second?” Hotch's voice welcomed you the next morning.

Spencer's view followed your figure to the boss’ office and that didn't go unnoticed by his best friend.

“Pretty boy had fun yesterday?” Derek teased.

“What?”

“You know… Penelope said that last night Hotch wasn't the only one who left work late. You and our new colleague had a date at work?” His strong arm embraced the other's shoulders.

“N-No! I thought we were the only ones… No! Nothing happened!” Spencer struggled to say.

“Reid, can we talk?” Your voice made him turn around. He just hoped you weren't angry.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” He asked when both of you walked into an empty hallway.

“Actually, yes. Apparently Hotch received a request from the team's genius profiler to work with me on my paperwork days. So, you are having trouble concentrating on the files because of some headaches and need someone to work with?” As you spoke your tone of voice slowly reflected, with a mocking tone, that you knew perfectly well why Spencer had spoken to Hotch.

“Am… Yeah. Headaches are the worst.” He whispered looking to the floor.

“Thanks, Spence.” You said with sincere gratitude. Spencer looked at you again and felt a weight lift off his shoulders when he realized that you weren't mad at him.

“Sure. Whatever you need, I'm here for you… as coworkers, of course!” His voice got a little higher when he clarified immediately.

You were about to walk past him to return with the others, but then he spoke again. “Do you think maybe we can go and have coffee on a free day? I mean, I can help you with the words that are difficult for you. And, actually, I was thinking that I might need help with your language too. We can help each other, you know?” He gulped.

“Sure. A little help never hurts.” You smiled and walked away hiding a smile while Spencer was left alone, standing in the middle of the hallway, unable to believe that he had just asked you out. “Hotch is gonna kill me if he finds out…”

[szynkaaa]

Hi, I just read your story on AO3 and I loved it a lot but it also left me with a lot of questions about Oz and his relationship with Sun Wukong, especially the part where you mentioned that Oz after recovering the relics couldn't return to his world but at the end it gives the impression that she is no longer with him and at the beginning you also mentioned that this isn't a fanfic as such but like a diary or letters that she left him and that's eating my head in a good way that I need answers 😆😆😆😆 By the way, I know this is a bit long but I really love your content, your art, and your writing 😆☺️😊🥰

would you believe me if I said I came up with the idea to add those paragraphs at the end of each stories to make it sound like they are not together anymore literally as I was uploading my fic to AO3 LMFAO

ok ok, since I'm not an eloquent writer and will enver write a fully fledged fic, I will just spoil the ending of my non-existing story.

Basically after Black Myth Wukong story line, Oz did not manage to go home like she thought she would after helping DO. I've also mentioned that her ancestor were part of the Celestial Court but got fucked over by the court, so "book 2" of my AU would be SWK and Oz dealing with the Celestial Court, trying to figure out what what the fuck happened.

Everyone is like trying to use Oz as a scapegoat for the shit her ancestors did. She's just like, I wanna live my life and idc what my ancestors did that was like over 1000 years go for me. but 1000 year in celestial court is like 83 years ago in celestial heaven time, so like not thaaaat long ago for them. WW2 is for us like 80 years ago. it's a long time ago but also not really. people who lived through the war are still alive. So anyway, court wants her to serve them again like her ancestor did, or die I guess. reason is tied to some power that flows in Oz because of her ancestor, which I do plan to explain in another post at some point.

something something happens, where either Oz has no choice but to return to her homeworld, oooor someone from the Celestial Court forcibly sends her back. If you watched Barbie the nutcracker, the same shit the rat king pulled on Clara. Or maybe even SWK pushed her through a portal to send her to safety.

also in my AU, time flows differently between the Oz's world and SWK world. A day can pass in her world, and it could be few weeks or months or even years in SWK world.

ALSO important thing is SWK at some point gives Oz a ring made from the birthstone, like he found rock pieces and asked Yin Tiger to make him a ring ("I'm not that kind of smith, monkey"). Traditional Chinese Wedding does not include an engagement ring, but SWK was there when Oz was explaining to monkey kids how wedding traditione worked in her world, and he loves her so he made the ring, gave it to her when confessing to her.

She still has the ring when she went back to her world, and there it's like not much time has passed, maybe a week at most. She still made it to her Taylor Swift concert.

Time pass, maybe like three years or so. She never stopped thinking about SWK, and tried to find way to get back but couldn't. maybe the portal got severed idk. and then something something happens (which I will need to think about), where one day the ring on her finger felt warm and she was able to return to Mount Huaguo, landing where the birthstone stood on the mountain.

I think like 100 years passed in that world, where SWK never stopped visiting the birthstone place, where Oz also went back to her world.

Here is a comic I made of their sweet sweet reunion:

She's wearing a fancy red dress because she was attending some fancy event before she was able to return to SWK. But also traditionally the bride and groom wore red in a Chinese wedding, so her wearing the red dress when she is reunited with SWK after all those years is a symbol for that they are finally able to be together and live their happily ever after. it's also symbolism for Oz.

Before that, depsite SWK confession and basically proposal, she has a bit of commitment / abandoment issues from her parents divorce, so yknow they didn't get married before that. but it is very clear to anyone that they both loved each other.

so yeah. Sorry for the long post LOL i get super excited talking about my problem children. there is angst and implication that Oz will be gone but ultimately it ends on a happy note.

[firsttimewriter92]

Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)

Part 2; Part 3; Part 4

Description: You´ve just moved in a couple of weeks ago, trying for a new start. A brief encounter with your neighbor gets your endorphins and imagination going. What is it about the mask?

Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, a little pining

Word count: 1.917

A/N: Hi everyone <3 This is my very first Simon Riley x reader fic. I´ve written about several characters of CoD but Ghost was always kind of an enigma to me. I never knew how to make him the love interest. But and idea popped into my head after reading some characterization that made it much easier to write for him. So here you go :) Let me know if a part 2 is something you´d be interested in.

“Jesus fucking Christ” you swore as you tried your best to push your heavy apartment door open and balance your bag and groceries through the door. It was a struggle to say the least, but you were damned if you did second trips. Grumbling through your teeth you saw no other possibility than setting down your bag, holding the door open with your foot and grabbing your groceries a little more securely. Bending your knee, you gave your door a forceful push and slid through into your small hallway. Foregoing taking off your shoes you made your way into your open kitchen and set the heavy paper bags down on your kitchen island.

A sigh escaped you and you took a moment just to stand in your kitchen and take in the chaos around you. Half emptied moving boxes were strewn all around your living room, amidst not yet hanging shelves, plastic plants and several DIY projects. Another sigh left your lungs with a huff. Moving and starting anew had seemed like your only option a couple of weeks ago but now you dreaded the silence. You wanted this, ___, you thought. It was your decision.

Your new job was everything you ever hoped for, and training turned out to be smooth sailing. You loved it, you loved your apartment, even though it was far from being finished yet. But still, what you´d left behind still lingered in the back of your brain all too clearly at times. Especially when your heavy door closed behind you every evening and there was nothing but you, your DIY projects, an occasional phone call with your parents and then silence. Silence to wallow in, rake your brain and memories. Memories not even a good Podcast or music were able to drown out.

You weren´t as close with your colleagues yet as to be invited out to the pub after work but that was to be expected. The chances were good though. Maybe just a couple of days more and you´d have at least some kind of social interaction. One step after the other, you reminded yourself. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Your own impatience with yourself was yet again trying to make you feel like you´d made a mistake by moving. A humorless laugh bubbled from your lips as you shook your head. Calm down, you thought. This is your life, your pace. Relax.

A couple of minutes later your food was stored away, veggies and salmon steaming away and finally you sat down on your couch, glass of wine in hand and Netflix on your TV.

“Bloody hell” you cursed as a shot of adrenalin set your brain into overdrive. Your bag. You jumped off your couch and hurried over to the door. Swinging it open with a yank you initially thought someone had put out the lights in the corridor. All you saw was black and not a second later you collided with something solid.

Shaking your head, you realized three things. It was 7 o´clock on a warm day in July, so it couldn’t be dark out already. Your hallway had several windows and yes, the sun was still out. The black wall you just ran into turned out to be a massive chest.

Heat was ascending your neck as you took a small step back and lifted your head to look at the face this quite impressive physique belonged to. What the…?

Before you stood a man, several inches taller than you, frozen in place with his arm lifted as if he was just about to knock on your door. He looked down on you with impressive, hazel eyes. Honey blond, tousled hair adorned his head, falling slightly onto his forehead, wet tips clinging to his temples and a bead of sweat disappearing behind his ear. But that was about all you could make out.

Seeing people wearing a facemask had of course not been an unusual sight for the last three years but he wasn´t wearing one of those surgical ones. His nose, mouth and chin were covered in thick, black material, even spanning over his cheekbones and disappearing behind his ears. When your eyes caught his again you saw them narrowing just slightly and one blond eyebrow ticking upwards.

Something wriggly moved inside your belly.

The man slowly lowered his arm, simultaneously lifting the other slightly, holding out your bag.

“This yours?” a deep, calm voice broke through the silence and the wriggly something inside you spread out towards your chest, down your arms and into your fingertips. You swallowed, trying to gather your wits again.

“Uhm…yes. Yes, that´s mine. Forgot about it” you said with a nervous laugh as you took it from him. He hummed deep inside his chest in understanding. The sound only letting your eyes snap onto his again trying to decipher if the squinting was an annoyed one or an amused one.

Amused, as it turns out. He took a deep breath, the black material of his running shirt as you now realized it was, stretching across the expanse of his chest.

“You know, that´s how you get your identity stolen. Or at least your wallet.” Yeah, there was no question now, he was grinning behind his mask, his tone mildly rebuking but not at all belittling.

A small smirk of your own crawled onto your lips as you cocked out your hip and nodded your head.

“You´re absolutely right, Sir. I´ll cuff my bag to my wrist from now on so this inconvenience shall not occur to you a second time.” You want to be cocky, mister? Fine with me.

Your answer made him chuckle. It was short but genuine. One hand in his pocket he stepped back slightly and only now did you notice the heat that his body had emitted. With one last narrow of his eyes, making the edges crinkle ever so slightly he answered. “Not an inconvenience, Miss. Have a good evening.” He nodded once and walked away to your right.

“Y-you too” you cursed the way your words tumbled. To your surprise he halted in front of the door next to yours and your heart jumped into your throat as he took out his keys. Your eyes still fixed onto his side profile (you still couldn’t really make out any features), he gave you one last look before opening his door.

“And thank you” you rushed out.

He only lifted one hand to give you a small little wave that seemed way too juvenile for a man of his stature and closed his door.

Kind of shellshocked you turned around yourself and let your door fall shut behind you. Clutching onto your bag you didn’t even notice how long you were just standing in your hallway, trying to sort out the wriggling nerves. Who was that? Idiot. Your neighbor. Your neighbor that you´d never seen before. A man like him you´d remember seeing. There´d never been any noise from the apartment next to yours so you just thought it was either a very quiet tenant or one that only went there to sleep.

Sitting down on your couch again you stared at the wall behind your TV. He was behind that wall, doing…things. Existing. Why did that feel so exciting to you? Maybe it was just because that´d been your first real social interaction apart from talking to your colleagues?

Laughing incredulously at yourself you buried your burning face in your hands and giggled. No. No that wasn’t it and you knew it. It was stupid. So very stupid and weird and nerdy and…that damn mask!!

“Whhhyyyy…..?” you moaned grinning and rubbed your temples, finally letting all the pent up adrenalin and endorphins rush through your blood stream unstopped. What was it about men wearing those damn masks? Not being able to fully see their face. Having to find out what there was to them by just their actions.

The fist time you really thought you´d lost your mind was when you actually developed a burning crush on a literal tin can from the Star Wars universe. Oh yeah, sure. Give me a brooding, sarcastic, overworked loner with PTSD and give him a freaking child to protect. Watch him become a devoted, loving single parent. Of course! Yes, let me thirst after him. And did it stop there? Of course not. The pandemic hit and the lockdown had everyone in a chokehold.

The only chokehold you wanted to be in at the time however was one carried out by a video game character called Ghoul from “Call of Obligation”. Tatted up, burly, sharp, dutiful, loyal and fucking hot.

The only thing you were able to see of him? His eyes. Just his eyes and an occasional forearm here and there. Everything else covered in tactical gear and a scary facemask. God that character haunted your dreams almost every night. And now, you had his existing, breathing, heat emitting, real human equivalent living next to you. You felt your insides burn as another funny noise came from your mouth. There had to be something wrong with you. Why was half a visible face or even less, so damn attractive to you?

“Shit must be some kind of kink” you murmured to yourself as you reached for your wine glass.

Why was he wearing that mask anyway? People weren´t obligated to wear one anymore. Was it some kind of training technique while running?

Anyhow, you appreciated the encounter. Your mood instantly better even though the both of you hadn’t talked much at all. He seemed witty. Cocky almost and you liked that.

Emptying your wine, you put the glass back in the dishwasher and walked over to your bathroom when you heard it. The shower in the next apartment was running. Immediately you halted all movement and tried to not even breath. The situation seemed so delicate, like thin glass ready to break. You stared at the wall when something else caught your ears.

No. Did you hear this right? Was he…?

You walked carefully over to your shower and stepped in. Trying not to care about how crazy you must look at this moment, you turned your head to the wall slightly, closed your eyes and listened as hard as you could. There it was.

Low, melodic and absolutely captivating. Over the sound of the water hitting the tile you heard your neighbor singing. Your forehead hit the tile and you breathed as quietly as possible, marveling in the baritone sweetness that could be heard through the wall. All too soon, about a minute later it was over. The water was shut off, the singing stopped.

As if in trance you got your nighttime routine going and a couple minutes later, slid into bed. Knowing where his bathroom was now, you were positive that his bedroom had to be next to yours as well. You tried to hear more, but nothing else penetrated the walls. It made you glad actually. If you would be able to hear him in his bedroom, sleep would turn out to be an impossibility to achieve.

This way, you closed your eyes, got comfortable and let your thoughts drift and wander. Not long after, you were dead asleep. Your dreams yet again haunted, but now, the usual scary mask of Ghoul was replaced with a solid black one and instead of clawing at a fully clothed head between your legs, your fingers tangled into soft honey blond curls.

_____________________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading. Please consider interacting with this post and give me some feedback. Comments and reblogs always help not only to push my work that I love, but also help to improve my writing and get my imagination going.

Thank you for considering it <3

[dfortrafalgar]

Looooooved ILY! Kudos! It was chair-gripping, tear drenching, rot your teeth fluffy and a bunch of other things in between! Brava! 🥰

If you're still accepting requests (I don't know if you have already been flooded by messages or not) I would like a story about being part of the Kid Pirates but reader is in a really sour mood because it's the anniversary of readers's parents death (you can make up a story if you'd like) and reader disobeys a direct order from him and, to top it off, reader talks back at him in front of the crew, earning the reader a severe punishment (up to you). Eventually Kid finds out why reader's mood is so sour and tries to talk it out except Kid can't be soft and that just makes things more awkward. Could be SFW, could be NSFW, I'm leaving all this up to you. And the ending as well because I only got that far. I hope you like the idea and get excited.

I love your work! ❤️🥰 Thank you for sharing your talent.

HI ANON!!! thank you so much for your request and your super kind words over IMLY, that means so much to me!!!! i know i keep saying this but yall make me smile every single day when i log onto tumblr and see your messages <3

I also really loved writing this request! i really love Kid, but i also wanna kick his ass on the playground if that makes sense, and i think that sentiment came through in my writing ;w; I hope you like it!!! and thank you again!!! (Also, i kept the reason for your parents' death ambiguous, because i know some people (myself included) read fics with their ocs in mind, so you're free to fill in the vagueness with your own personal ideas if you want!)

Feeling Overhaul

Eustass Kid x Fem Reader

The anniversary of your parents' death always leaves you feeling shallow, but your boyfriend's lack of social and situational awareness crops up to make your day even worse.

Warnings: SFW, hurt/comfort, reader being understandably upset, descriptions of an argument with some veeeeery slight verbal abuse, once again hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort. communication is key loves

Your sour mood had been steadily building over the last few days, but your sorrow reached its peak on the last day of the week, according to the barely legible crew calendar that was based off of when the messenger coos arrived with the weekly paper.  It was a day you despised thinking about, the memories associated with the day leaving your throat tight, an uncomfortable malaise in the pit of your stomach.

All things considered, you thought you were doing a decent job at keeping your emotions in check while performing your usual duties on the Victoria Punk.  The bow of the deck needed a thorough scrubbing, a few spots in the walls of the crow’s nest needed repairs from a recent run in with a smaller, weaker pirate crew, and a few secondary sails needed their holes patched up.  It was a perfect day to distract yourself from your woes.  Drowning your discontent in your work had become quite a valuable skill.

Until you slipped on the soap that lathered the hard wood of the bow and fell flat on your ass.  When trying to stand, your hands gave out under you and you hit the deck once more, one of your crew mates tossing you anxious glances as you struggled to regain your bearings.  Climbing up to the crow’s nest, you were plagued with a sudden wash of grief over the day, so much so that you lost your grip and slipped down the Jacobs ladder, your foot catching on one of the wooden rungs beneath you.  Wire was directly under you, climbing as well to assist with the crow’s nest repairs, and his method of helping you after your slip involved gripping your arm so hard it left a bruise.  You bit back your tears at the pain of your crewmate’s hand around your limb and the humiliation of almost falling 12 feet onto the hard wooden hull, but you once again bit back your shame and finished your arduous climb up.

By the afternoon, word had gotten around the Victoria Punk that your work was lacking, that you were clearly struggling with something, that perhaps you weren’t feeling well.  When it finally got around to Captain Eustass Kid, who doubled as your beloved partner, he was less than pleased.

The last thing he wanted to do was deal with your emotions, and the last thing you wanted to do was deal with his abrasive, apathetic attitude.

“Care to explain why the hell the entire crew has caught you slacking off today?” he demanded, thundering toward you in one of the upper corridors of the ship’s hull.  You were still returning some of the tools you had used to patch up the ship’s sails when he accosted you in the hallway.  It was almost dinner hour, and many of the crew were bustling through the same corridors finishing their afternoon tasks before meal time.

“What?” you snapped back, caught off guard by his threatening question.

“Don’t ‘What’ me.  Why have you been tripping and falling everywhere?  What kind of joke are you trying to play?”  His face was angry, livid even, not granting you even one second to explain your plight.

Your eyebrows furrowed.  “I’m not trying to bumble around the boat like an idiot.  I’m just not feeling well and haven’t been able to focus.”

Kid scoffed.  “Then get over it.”

Perhaps you were being irrational, but at the same time, you had officially had enough of the entire day.  You dropped your supplies on the floor around your feet, heat radiating off of your body in waves.  “What did you just say to me?”

Your captain bent down to be at your level, which was insulting to your current state.  “Get.  Over.  It.”

Anger boiled in your lungs, lighting your heart on fire, blinding the corners of your vision with a fuzzy white light.  You tried to turn your back to him and escape down the corridor, but yelped when Kid grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?” he asked.  He really couldn’t control the sound of his voice, regardless of his current emotion, and the volume of his shouts filling the space made your body tense up in fear.  Eyes watching the scene unfold around you widened.

Around the corner behind Kid’s back, Killer darted forward, alerted to the sounds emanating from the narrow passage.  “Kid, chill out!”

“Are you going to care about me any more if I tell you?” you demanded back, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip.  His flesh hand held firm, however, almost burning your skin.  He shrugged Killer’s own hand off of his shoulder forcefully, completely ignoring his friend’s plea to calm himself somewhat.

Kid rolled his eyes.  “It better be damn important if it’s got you almost falling off of the Jacobs ladder.”

You steeled yourself, sucking in an uneasy breath and facing your stubborn partner head on.  “Today’s the anniversary of my parents’ death.  I’ve never been able to feel alright when I think about them.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence that floated between the two of you, the air in the hallway thrumming with a suffocating tension.  Kid’s grip finally relaxed on your wrist, allowing you to yank it away and rub your sore skin.  His red-painted lips finally parted, and all he graced your ear drums with was, “That’s it?”

Your heart dropped.  “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

“Parents die all the time.  What makes today so different?”  His narrow eyes were back to their scathing glare.

At this point, however, you had had enough.  You were practically shaking with a barely contained rage of your own as you stepped closer to your captain and spat in his face, causing him to stagger backward, giving you enough space to let your emotions bubble outward.  “I don’t have to tell you shit if you’re going to talk to me like that!  In front of the entire crew?!  Just because you’re my captain doesn’t mean you get the excuse to accost me in the hallway and berate me for slipping a few times.”  You frantically dug through your brain for words to add to your outburst, perhaps asking how he had the sheer gall to have such an attitude toward you despite dropping his walls and being so kind toward you on an average day, but all you could muster in response was, “Fuck you, Kid.”

You stepped away from him, narrowly missing another one of his lunges to get you to stay.  His voice was low and intimidating.  “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Then don’t tell me that my day of grieving is stupid!  Fuck!  You!” you spat back, finally turning on your heels and sprinting out of his reach, down the hallway and into the ladder well into the lower deck, desperate to get as far away from your captain as possible.  You knew he was prone to struggling with empathy, and kindness had never been one of his strong suits, but to be talked to in such a way, have your feelings belittled after you had almost severely injured yourself as a consequence of your lacking mental health, hurt more than a stab to the liver.

Kid’s burning gaze followed you as you fled, harshly turning on his own heels to slink to the galley and drown his frustrations in whatever liquor the crew had acquired from the last island.  He bumped Killer’s shoulder, forcing the blonde to the side.  The crew watched as their captain rounded the corner out of sight.

---

You didn’t arrive for the dinner call, your usual seat left unfilled and the plate uneaten.  A few crew mates who hadn’t witnessed the explosive scene from an hour ago asked around for your whereabouts, but the only one who bothered to stand up and search for you was Quincy who quickly ate her meal and abandoned the table.

Kid was pounding back alcohol like no one’s business, leading to many a concerned glance.

“Kid,” Killer muttered.  He rested his masked head in his hand, desperate for context at what he had previously run in on.  “What happened?”

“Nothing,” the red-head grumbled, throwing back another mug of golden beer, some of it dribbling down the side of his mouth.

The few straggling crew members who remained around the large dining table shared worried looks.

“It’s clearly not nothing,” Killer countered.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” snapped Kid.  Even at the age of 23, he was still no better than a bratty little child when things didn’t go his way.

Killer dropped the subject with a sigh, the sound escaping the holes in his mask with a subdued hiss.

Quincy, on the other hand, carefully opened the door to the women’s bunk room where she found you, curled on your side on the mattress that used to belong to you when you first joined the Kid Pirates, your face buried in a pillow and your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Darling,” she cooed, silently tapping across the floor to sit on the side of the bed, her gentle hand ghosting over your arm.  “What happened?  Why didn’t you come to dinner?”

The sound of her voice unraveled you from your coil, your tear-stained face and puffy red eyes meeting her concerned stare.  “Kid and I had a fight,” was all you said.

“About?”

You rolled onto your back, clutching the pillow that was thoroughly drenched in your salty tears to your abdomen.  “Today’s the anniversary of my parents’ death, and when Kid asked me what was wrong, he told me, ‘What makes today so different, parents die all the time.’  Like…?” your voice wavered, “Who says that?  And to his girlfriend nonetheless!”

Quincy made a disappointed tsk sound with her tongue, sympathetically rubbing your arm through the sleeve of your shirt.  “Honey, he’s stupid.  But still, he was wrong to speak to you like that.”

You sniffled, wiping some snot from your face with the arm that wasn’t being caressed by your close friend.  “I know… but it still hurts.  I wish he could just… I don’t know… be nicer to me?”

For what it was worth, both of you knew that Kid wasn’t truly ‘stupid.’  He was strong, strategic, and resilient, but when it came to matters of the heart, his brain dwarfed to the size of a peanut.  It was only a matter of getting the headstrong captain to realize how he had truly hurt you.

“Honey, sleep in here for a few nights to get a proper rest, away from him,” Quincy offered, standing up from her seat on your mattress to approach one of the wardrobes, pulling out a comfortable shirt and baggy pants to relax in.  “Let this blow over for a little while, and then you can try to talk it out with him.  We can help if you need it.”

You sat up yourself, gratefully taking the clothing from her arms, a small smile on your lips.  “Thanks, Quin.”

The curly-haired woman left the bunkhouse to let you change, passing by Killer trudging through the hallway, a towel draped over his scarred arm.  “Hey, have you talked to Kid?”

“He’s drunk off his ass right now,” Killer grumbled, dragging his free hand down his mask in a display of exasperation.  “I couldn’t get him to tell me what happened, but he’s gonna be out of it for the rest of the evening.”

Quincy bit the inside of her cheek as she assessed the first mate’s message.  “I’ll tell you.”

---

It had been about three days since the argument Kid had blasted you with in front of your crew mates, your humiliation and anger toward your captain burning a hole into your lungs.  You couldn’t contain your tears for at least six hours after your initial outburst, the grief of losing your parents in the way you had all those years ago now partnered with the anguish of screaming at Kid… and spitting on his face.  The act was so beneath you, and yet.  Dive and Hip, who had seen the argument first-hand, had helped to assure you that you weren’t in the wrong for what you had said, reassuring your stance that Kid was far too intimidating when all he wanted was a simple answer for your strange behavior.

Heat had come to you with a covered plate containing the dinner you had missed, informing you that Kid still had a very poor system of managing his emotions.  While you understood this first hand, being his partner for the better part of a year, you still didn’t believe that was a proper excuse to diminish your emotions in the way he had.

After those three days of your absence, strategically avoiding him at all hours of the day, Kid was fed up.  He needed to talk.  His bed was too empty without you.

Killer told him it would be a bad idea to call you to his quarters, but he did it anyway.  And when your anxious knocking reverberated through the thick wooden door of his cabin, he was quick to call your name and grant you entry.

You stepped in, shutting the door softly behind you, keeping your head low.  Kid stood from his mattress, clearing the floor in broad steps and trying his best to lay on the charm, wrapping his large arm around you and cooing his best, casual greeting, “Hey, babe, I’ve missed you.”

You shrugged yourself away from him, your eyes downcast.  You looked… hollow.  “Did you want something from me, captain?”

Kid felt a foreign pang deep in his chest.  You hadn’t been referring to him as your boyfriend or partner.  Right now, he was strictly ‘captain,’ and that notion left him feeling far too empty and vulnerable for his liking.

Fuck, he wasn’t good at this in any way.

Your gaze bore scorching holes into his own eyes, silently demanding the apology that you knew you deserved to hear from him.  With a deep sigh, Kid turned around and stomped back to his mattress, dropping his head into his hands.

“I didn’t know your parents died,” he blurted.

You stayed quiet.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”  His voice was a low grumble.

You suppressed a scoff.  “How about, ‘Sorry for yelling at you in front of the crew?’  Or, ‘I’m sorry for saying that your feelings don’t matter.’  Something like that, maybe.”  Your voice, in comparison, was eerily level, your time to be physically upset with the situation having expired two days ago.  Now all you were left with was an uncomfortable feeling of unease, a hole in your heart where Kid usually sat now being emptied and replaced with a barren cavern that desperately wished to be occupied by the man you loved once more.

Because you really did love him.  You knew his lifestyle, his behaviors, his tendencies toward cruelty.  And yet, he remained kind toward you.  He allowed you to open up to him and did the same in turn, and he nestled himself perfectly, albeit clumsily, into your life.  You didn’t want to lose that.

Watching as Kid clearly struggled forming those two little words on his tongue was like watching someone perform self-surgery.  His pride had impeded his sense of empathy for so long that the simple notion of apologizing was such an estranged concept for him.

How stunted.

But you held firm, remaining in front of his closed door as he kept his head in his hand, his thick fingers teasing through his slightly greasy red hair.  After what felt like an eternity, he finally picked his head up.  “I’m sorry.”

There it was.

He continued, sucking in a shaky breath.  “I really didn’t know it was the anniversary of your family’s death.  I wish I asked you about it sooner instead of… that.”

You stayed quiet.

“... Instead of yelling at you like that.  And attacking you for something that was out of your control.”  He kept his voice low, as if he was carefully picking out his words from a small bucket inside his thick skull.

After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, you released the tension in your shoulders with a sigh.  “And I’m sorry for spitting on you.  And for cursing you out.”

“No, you shouldn’t apologize,” Kid stated, finally picking up his head and gazing at you, his eyebrows furrowed.  “I deserved it, really.”  His fingers anxiously rubbed the rough fabric of his pants.  “Killer sat me down and gave me a bit of a beat down.  Physically and verbally.  Because I know I’m not good at this.  I’m not a good person.  And I really fucked up with you.”

You remained firm with your feelings, but you finally approached his bed and sat next to him, leaving a comfortable gap between your bodies that your captain, your partner, didn’t try to close.  He kept his distance from you, silently ensuring that you were allowed, and encouraged, to open up to him when you were the most comfortable.

“I just want to make sure that you actually mean it,” you whispered.  “And that you’re not just saying that without believing it.”

“I mean it,” Kid confirmed, his voice unwavering.  “I really do.”

You gazed at him apprehensively.  “... Promise?”

Silently, Kid held out his pinky toward you.

You looked at his finger, confusion glossing your features.  “What are you doing?”

“Have you never made a pinky promise before?” he asked.

Your mouth threatened to curl into a small smile.  “Can’t say that I have.”

Kid released his hand only so he could take yours, folding your fingers down so only your own pinky stuck out from your fist.  He repeated the motion with his own hand, curling his smallest digit around your own.  “It’s a promise that I mean what I said.  Killer and I used to do this all the time as kids.”

Your composure finally broke as you snorted, your own finger curling around his.  “That’s sweet…”

“The point is that, if I break the promise, you get to break my finger,” he explained.

“Suddenly everything makes sense,” you uttered, your lips finally curling into a grin.  “Don’t give me an excuse to break your finger.”

In response to your lighthearted plea, Kid raised his hand with yours still attached and pulled back down in a handshake gesture.  “Never.”

Your finger stayed curled around his as you gazed at your hand.  “I’m still kind of upset with you.”

Kid’s shoulders stiffened.  “I get why.”  After you stayed silent for a few extra moments, he finally asked, “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Your eyes bore into his once more, his gaze remaining steady as well.  “You can start by not jumping to conclusions… or being accusatory without any context.”  You sighed.  “I’m not telling you to change your entire personality, Kid, because I know who you are.  And I fell in love with the normal, regular You.  But I just ask for a little bit of kindness.”

Kid released your pinky in order to lace his entire hand with yours.  “I’ll give you more than a little.”

“Or I can break your pinky?” you asked once more, another small smile breaking out on your face.

Your partner grinned.  “I’ll throw myself overboard if you ask.”

You finally closed the gap between your bodies, tentatively laying your head on his shoulder.  “No… I wouldn’t want to lose you like that.”

[theaskywalker]

hi! I had a small idea with Seth, reader (if you could do fem that would be amazing!) was in Russia for 4 years for her studies, for her coming back. she wanted to Suprise Seth by coming over in his jacket he gave her before she left:) I was thinking in that moment he looked at her (her eyes to be exact) he imprinted on her. (I would love for reader to have really sharp canines, not a vampire but almost like it! that's how my teeth have been and wanted to see someone include it in a fic:)

Seth Clearwater x Fem! Reader

Thank you for the request ghosty-boo-shh! It was an interesting idea and very fun to write. Hope you enjoy it! 😊

❥ You had always been close with Seth Clearwater.

❥ Having grown up in the same neighborhood and with your mothers being best friends it was no surprise that the two of you became practically inseparable.

❥ Sitting together during classes.

❥ Passing notes to each other when the teachers seperated you.

❥ Having lunch at the cafeteria.

❥ Studying together after school.

❥ Spending the weekends chilling at the beach or indoors watching movies and playing video games.

❥ Leah always joked that you acted like a married couple.

❥ Which turned the both of you into blushing fools.

❥ Seth liked to call you his little Dracula due to your extremely sharp canines.

❥ He loved that characteristic about you.

❥ And constantly reminded you of how cool it was.

❥ You in turn called him all sorts of silly nicknames referencing his favourite pop culture elements.

❥ By the time high school rolled up, you had fallen hopelessly in love with your best friend.

❥ You wanted to confess your feelings but the fear of him not returning them kept you silent.

❥ That's when everything changed.

❥ Your impressive academic record had won you a scholarship to attend one of the most prestigious colleges in Russia.

❥ It was your dream to study there and you were ecstatic.

❥ The day before you left, Seth came at your house to say goodbye.

❥ He surprised you by giving you his leather jacket that you had been admiring since the day he bought it.

"Something to remember me while you're at Moscow" he said.

❥ Without thinking you kissed him hard on the lips.

❥ A kiss that he reciprocated after a moment's hesitation.

❥ You confessed your feelings afterwards and Seth did the same.

❥ A long distance relationship wouldn't be easy.

❥ You promised to call him everyday and send emails in-between.

❥ And he promised to wait for you as long as it was needed.

❥ At first the communication between the two of you was daily.

❥ But after several months Seth's responses became less and less frequent.

❥ You didn't understand what caused this change in behaviour.

❥ Phone calls became non existent.

❥ And emails would be replied once a week at most.

❥ You patiently went along with it hoping that everything would go back as normal when you returned to Forks.

❥ After 4 years of studying abroad you finally graduated and made the long journey back home.

❥ The first thing you did after arriving in Forks was to go at Seth's house to surprise him.

❥ You had planned this little surprise beforehand by telling your parents to keep your return a secret.

❥ You even wore the jacket Seth gave you before leaving, thinking it would be nice to show him how much his present meant to you.

❥ Sue Clearwater greeted you warmly and explained that Seth and Leah were at the beach with friends.

❥ You went straight to La Push and saw the Clearwater siblings sitting across a fire roasting marshmallows together with Jacob Black, Quil Ateara and another boy.

❥ Leah was the first of the group to spot you and happily called you over.

❥ You gave Leah a hug and greeted Jacob and Quil, who introduced you to the third boy, Embry Call.

❥ Shyly, you turned to Seth and greeted him with a nervous "hello".

❥ The moment Seth locked eyes with you time freezed and gravity no longer held him in place.

❥ You were equally awestruck and unable to utter a word.

❥ Seth had loved you for years but nothing had prepared him for this extraordinary feeling that took over him.

❥ It was like your soul had touched his in an intimate way and nothing would ever be the same.

❥ Jacob Black broke the silence by asking you and Seth to collect more firewood.

❥ The two of you agreed.

❥ As you silently collected twigs along the beach, Seth noticed the jacket that you wore and grinned.

"You still have it after all those years"

❥ You smiled at Seth and told him that the jacket was a reminder of all the beautiful memories you had together.

"And I hope that it will be the start of many more to come" you added.

❥ Seth looked at you with adoration and claimed your lips in a gentle kiss that gradually grew more passionate.

❥ By the time the two of you made it back to the group with the firewood you were tasked to collect, one thing was certain.

"This is the beginning of something good"

Masterlist

[masterjedilenawrites]

Handcuffed

Clone x Reader Song Lyric Fic Exchange 2024

Wolffe x reader | 4.8k words

Content: swearing, mention of weapons, brief descriptions of explosions and injuries, some arguments, push-you-away-to-protect-you trope, conflicted feelings, both parties are too stubborn for their own good, slightly hopeful ending

Lyric Prompts/Inspiration: 

Told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same. Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you. I can tell when somebody still wants me. (imgonnagetyouback, Taylor Swift)

His hand, so calloused from his pistol, softly traces hearts on my face. (I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can), Taylor Swift)

Note: Well hello again @ghostofskywalker! So happy to write another story for you, friend. Let's go with Wolffe this time, I'm feeling some angsty romance vibes with these prompts... hope you like!

Wolffe could be such a stubborn ass sometimes. You'd hate him for it if you didn't love him so much.

The ARC troopers of the 104th Battalion were currently lining up at attention in front of their Commander, their boots slapping against the newly waxed floors of the hangar bay. There were several dozen of them being called for this next mission, as well as various support staff such as civilian medics and bounty hunters and even a few Senate negotiators. They all gathered in orderly lines around Commander Wolffe to receive their orders.

You, meanwhile, stood off to the side. Out of the way. Arms crossed, mouth set, and eyes glaring across to Wolffe. If he knew you were there, stewing over yet another mission of being sidelined for no reason, he gave no indication, proceeding with his rounds as normal. As if you weren't one of the best GAR strategists this side of the Mid Rim. As if you hadn't been fondly adopted into the infamous "Wolf Pack" the second you arrived. As if you meant nothing to the hardened clone Commander, had never broken through his walls and gained his trust and seen how kind and good he was, hadn't shared several moments of vulnerability with each other and entrusted deep secrets and wild dreams, wasn't someone he had maybe probably kind of almost kissed that one time....

The memory caused you to squeeze your arms tighter together across your chest in equal parts annoyance and confusion. Wolffe trusted you. He cared for you. And he may even be attracted to you. He'd never said as much but you knew it in your heart of hearts. It wasn't wishful thinking. All the things you'd shared with him had been real. And yet, more and more he was pulling away, putting those walls back up and finding any reason possible to keep you off his missions. You had no idea why. He wouldn't talk to you, wouldn't look you in the eye.

You were over it.

"Commander Wolffe!" you addressed him as soon as he'd dismissed the troop. Soldiers and personnel hurried around the hangar to prep the ship for immediate departure. You made a beeline right through them, determined to get your way this time.

Wolffe, predictably, pretended to not hear you. He picked his way among ammunition crates and tapped at his datapad.

"Wolffe," you snapped as soon as you'd gotten yourself in his line of sight. A few nearby troopers jumped in response but Wolffe remained unperturbed.

"No, I will not be changing the mission assignments," he drawled, continuing to tap at his datapad without looking at you.

"Why not?" You set your hands on your hips and hoped you looked as fierce as you felt.

"Comet, get a recount of these thermal detonators. Anything over a thousand can be transferred to General Koon's vessel."

"On it, boss." Comet hurried over, glancing between you and the Commander uneasily before working on his new task.

Your hands clenched around your hips as your frustration built. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be, then? You're just going to ignore me? Real mature, Wolffe."

Wolffe looked up at you for the first time all day... all week really, but it's not like you were keeping track. He looked annoyed, which made you even more annoyed. You were not the problem here.

"I am preparing for a mission," he stated plainly. As if you were nothing more than a stranger. As if you didn't deserve any further explanation from him. As if he hadn't stumbled and choked over his words that one time you'd worn a nice shirt and let your hair down...

Just as quickly as he'd looked up at you, he looked back down.

"No, you're ignoring me," you huffed, stepping over quickly to snatch the datapad out of his hands. "You're not even working, just pretending... oh."

You glanced at the screen and saw a half-written message about a damaged crate. Your eyes flicked to the crate he was standing next to and saw it was, in fact, damaged, dented along the lid so it didn't close properly. Your eyes finally settled on his, trying to hide your sheepishness from him.

"So you can multitask," you shrugged.

"Give me back the datapad." Wolffe said your name with a sigh. It made your heart do a little leap.

"No." You held the device to your chest defiantly. Or perhaps childishly. "Not until you either put me on the mission or give me a good reason why I'm not."

"You're not needed." Again, another simple sentence. This was maddening.

"Not needed? I'm a strategist..."

"The strategy has already been defined."

"And what happens when it fails? Which it probably will, since I wasn't involved in creating it to begin with."

"Well aren't you so self-important."

His words struck a nerve you didn't know was exposed. He was the one who had told you to be more confident in your abilities. That your way of thinking was unique, your perspective insightful, and the GAR should utilize you more. You frowned deeply in response but couldn't find anything to say.

"Sinker, get the rest of these crates loaded. Take-off in ten."

Wolffe didn't take his gaze off you as he issued the order, and then stepped forward and plucked the datapad out of your grasp.

"And make sure this one's in our rear view when we launch."

With that, Wolffe strode away, leaving you with your bubbling emotions. And with Sinker and Comet, who decided standing beside you whistling about how awkward that was was more important than finishing their loading assignments.

"Ugh," you growled through their comments. "He's so... just so... Ugh, I hate him!"

You couldn't help but stomp your foot a little before marching off. You might as well embrace the juvenile side of your tantrum. It wasn't like Wolffe had bothered to look back at you. You couldn't figure out what his deal was, other than perhaps pride? Maybe he had come up with the mission plans and didn't want you showing him up? Or maybe all those things he'd said to you about confidence and ownership had been a lie, and you actually weren't that useful and he didn't know how else to get you to take the hint?

Kriff it, you were going to get on that ship and demand an explanation for why he was suddenly keeping you at arms' length. You'd choke it out of him if you had to.

"General Koon!" You hurried over to the opposite side of the hangar, where the Jedi had just dismissed his own platoon and was headed off elsewhere. He nodded toward you in friendly acknowledgement, though he continued on his journey without falter.

"Sir, I was wondering if I could be assigned to the Felucia mission? Specifically on the Conquest."

Plo Koon gave you a sideways glance. "I have put Commander Wolffe in charge of the Conquest assignments."

"Yes, and he's benched me, sir. Again."

Plo finally slowed his walk and turned to better face you. "I'm sure he has his reasons."

"And I'd very much like to go aboard to find out what they are, sir."

You could never really tell whether the Jedi smiled, but you had a feeling he was at least sporting a smirk of some kind under his facial apparatus. He stopped walking altogether and folded his arms neatly.

"I trust Wolffe's judgement and won't undermine his authority. He and I need to be a united effort on this mission."

You tried not to let your displeasure show on your face. Damn General Koon and his sensibleness.

But then the Jedi cleared his throat. "But, if someone were determined to get on the Conquest, they need only to give the boarding code 99001 to the protocol droid by the cargo hold."

He patted your shoulder and moved past you, on to his side of the mission, and you grinned after him. Bless General Koon and his insightfulness.

* * *

You timed your boarding onto the ship perfectly, not raising any suspicion or alarm bells, settling into the cargo hold moments before takeoff. Once you felt the familiar sway of the ship jumping into hyperspeed, you quickly picked your way through crates and crawled out the astromech service door. From there, it was a short jog through the various hallways to get to the bridge.

Along the way, the strategist within you started preparing what to say to Wolffe. You'd need to make sure he'd listen to you and not immediately throw you in some corner of the ship, out of the way. And you couldn't come across so angry that he'd put up his walls and refuse to communicate, as he was known to do. But also he still needed to know that you were angry, just enough to maybe feel bad. If he cared about your feelings. Which you were fairly certain existed. About 70% certain. Maybe not the ideal odds to hinge a plan on, you realized a little too late. Oh well.

You ended up coming across him in a hallway a few turns away from the bridge. You halted in surprise, and he as well. He was flanked by Comet and Boost and thankfully had his helmet on, as you could only imagine the displeased grimace that lied underneath.

"We need to talk," you blurted out, a far cry from the careful words you'd been preparing.

"What... what are you doing here?" he sputtered. 

"As I said," you tried to keep your voice level but firm, "we need to talk."

"You violated my direct orders and... and... now you're putting the mission at risk." He was stuttering a bit, likely at a loss for words, having been caught off guard like this.

"Oh please. You already put the mission at risk by not consulting me. Which, by the way, I have some questions about the tactics being used, once you let me know what your deal is."

Comet and Boost were inching backward. Wolffe caught their movement and snapped his fingers at them.

"Get her in an escape pod and set the coordinates back to Coruscant. I want her off this ship as soon as we're out of hyperspace."

The two clones looked at each other with tense shoulders.

"Uh, I'd rather not get involved in this," said Comet.

"Yeah, I think we're needed on the bridge, actually," said Boost.

"Right, yes, we're needed immediately."

"You are not--" Wolffe started to say but the poor troopers were already hurrying away. He raised his hand toward his head as if he'd wanted to pinch his nose and realized there was a helmet in the way. He shook himself with a growl.Oh no, he was far more upset than you thought he'd be.

"Kriff. I don't have time for this. Just... get somewhere safe for now."

He waved a dismissive hand at you before marching off in the opposite direction.

On the lefthand side of the hall, a protocol droid was just exiting out of a supply closet. Perfect. You ran forward and shoved Wolffe through.

"What the f--"

"Wolffe," you said as calmly as possible. The door hissed shut behind you and you smoothed back some stray strands of hair along your temple. You were going to take a different approach this time. "Please. I just need to know... You said I wasn't needed on this mission. But it hasn't just been this mission. It's been a couple now and..."

You took in a deep breath, feeling a lump forming in your throat for some reason.

"And now I'm wondering if I've ever been needed. Have any of my plans actually worked, or was it luck? Did I ever really come up with anything clever or did I say the obvious and you spared me the embarrassment by pretending otherwise?"

Wolffe was silent. You stared at his helmet, imagining the handsome and scarred face within. Was your tactic working? Was he softening under there? Or had you only caused him to retreat even further?

"I'll send one of the shinies to escort you off the ship."

Retreat it was, then. Your stomach twisted at your failed attempt to get through to him. You felt silly, going through all this trouble of sneaking around, insubordination, pushing him into a closet... all for what? Validation? Or was it to confirm something else? That 30% of uncertainty that existed in the depths of your heart made you wonder. 

Wolffe hit the button and the door swooshed back open. He stepped around you to pass through.

"Did you ever like me at all?" you asked quietly, and he paused beside you. "Or did I misread that, too?"

If Wolffe had an answer to that, he didn't get the chance to surprise you with it. First, there was the familiar pull in the surrounding air, the ship coming out of hyperspeed. Then, a beat. A mere moment of oblivious peace where you were just able to look up and find he was looking back at you. And then finally, chaos.

The ship suddenly lurched, throwing the two of you out into the hallway. Sirens started blaring and the lights flickered wildly for a few seconds before going out all together. Strips of red emergency lights clicked on, casting eerie shadows all around. There were frantic shouts and crackled comms messages going off between the siren blares. You froze where you'd fallen in a crouched position on the floor, one of your knees throbbing from the impact.

"Sinker, what's happened?" Wolffe, on the other hand, was still standing upright. He yelled into his commlink while looking up and down the hall as if the answers he sought were hanging in the air.

"Minefield, sir!" came the trooper's garbled reply. "Launched right into it!"

Your eyeballs felt like they were going to pop right out of your head.

"You approached from the north side of the planet?" you asked incredulously while picking yourself off the floor. Your voice was several octaves higher than normal. "Their defenses are stronger there."

"Yes," Wolffe sounded annoyed. "And General Koon approached with a fleet from the south, where their defenses were weaker. Twenty minutes ahead. They should've moved most of their forces to fortify by the time we got here..."

"And if you had let me in on the strategy meetings, I would've told you they'd leave a minefield behind to keep this sector secure."

"Like you would've known that."

"Of course I would have! They're operating a Class-VII Mine Drifter and unevenly dividing their forces between hemispheres. It's a classic MILDEC set-up."

The ship jerked again, sending you fully across the hall until you slammed up against the wall. Your bodies slowly drifted up the wall until it was no longer "up" but "on." The hallway was rotating. The ship was falling apart.

Sinker's voice came through the comms again and explained how things were looking. Half of the ship was already gone, blown off of the main hull and floating in open space with no chance of survivors. The remaining half was dead in the water, but thankfully still contained a means to evacuate. Wolffe quickly barked out his orders for all troops take the main hall down to the escape pods.

Wolffe was inches away from you as you both shifted to your knees on the rotating floor. His helmet was trained in your direction. You swore you could feel his sharp gaze penetrating through the plastoid like a laser. "You need to get to the escape pods. Now."

There was panic in his voice; no amount of helmet filtration could mask the edge in it. It wasn't like the hysteria you were starting to feel rise up from your stomach. It was much more intense and focused. You almost turned tail immediately to follow the order, but some sort of intuition kept you by his side. 

"We need to get to the escape pods," you clarified. And there it was. Wolffe glanced behind him, in the direction of the bridge. Your heart sunk before he could even turn back around and explain.

"They'll need help navigating the minefield and debris if they stand a chance of getting out of here."

You shook your head in confusion. "What... what are you saying? Help navigating how?"

"From the bridge."

"You... no... No! That's crazy!"

You found yourself reaching out to grip his arm, to keep him from leaving. But he shook from your grasp with what looked like a sigh from the movement of his shoulders, though you couldn't quite hear it over the sirens that continued to ring out. 

"I'm the Commander. I go down with the ship." 

"Wolffe!"

"Please. Go!"

He shakily got to his feet, a hand braced against what was formerly the floor and was now perfectly vertical but creeping ever so slightly forward, soon to become the ceiling if you stuck around any longer. Keeping his hand out for balance, he turned himself around, careful to not slip or trip on the new floor that was mired with control panels and gaps for doorways and random objects that had fallen loose from their intended positions.

He was either crazy or valiant, you didn't have the time to decide which. There was no way you were letting him go through with this. Not when there were plenty of other options. You briefly wondered whether your previous concerns about not being good enough were invalid, given the circumstances. Wolffe was the one barreling forward, insisting on a noble sacrifice without pausing to consider alternatives. While you were being strategic. So why hadn't he been including you on missions?

But then a flash caught your eyes and you refocused on the situation at hand. Handcuffs. A shiny pair dangling slightly from the back of Wolffe's belt. A plan immediately clicked into place, though you weren't sure it was so much a plan as it was a desperate attempt to stop this crazy, stubborn asshole from pushing away from you again. Regardless, you promptly jumped forward, yanked the handcuffs off his belt, and snapped one binder onto your wrist and the other on the one Wolffe had propped against the wall. All before Wolffe could properly reorient himself to follow what was happening.

"What are you--"

"Come on," you instructed, pulling your combined wrists to accentuate your point. "Escape is this way."

"You know I can just unlock them," he said from behind you, as you had now turned and were trying to pull him down the hallway.

"I put the pin in my bra."

You hadn't actually, but Wolffe didn't double-check his belt, didn't doubt you at all. Interesting. Instead, he only resisted your tugging with a huffed, "We don't have time for this."

The ship lurched yet again, and this time you could hear an accompanying boom. Another mine hit.

"No, we don't have time," you said with a pointed look over your shoulder.

"The escape pods are no use if--"

"There's a pattern to how the Class-VII lays its mines," you hurriedly talked over him. Ideally you'd think through all nine of the ideas you had before settling on a plan of action, but in such a pinch, the first would have to do. "All I need is a visual on its direction and I can chart a path out of the field. From the pods."

"And the debris from the ship? How are you navigating out of that?"

"That's where you and your boys' training comes in. They don't call you the Wolf Pack as a joke, do they?"

You sported a playful smirk and gave one last tug on the binders. This time, Wolffe followed.

As the two of you ran, leaping over doorways, banking around corners, slipping and stumbling constantly, the alarms cut out and the strip lights wavered in their luminosity. But most inconveniently, the air grew stale and thin. It wasn't long before you had a harder time keeping up and Wolffe was the one pulling you.

"The backup systems must be failing," Wolffe said, slowing down so you could catch your breath. "No air."

"No shit," you panted. "How much further?"

Wolffe didn't answer. You could only see the shadow of his helmeted head shake as he rested one hand on his hip and kept the one joined to yours limp by his side. After you tried taking a few deep breaths to no avail, he then removed his helmet and placed it over your head.

You'd always wondered what it was like to wear a clone trooper helmet. Wolffe had told you once they were unique to each clone, more than whatever paint job they put on the outside. It shaped and molded to their heads, picked up their smell, became as intimate and familiar an item as underwear or shoes might. You hoped you'd have a moment to really revel in wearing Wolffe's soon, but first you needed to breathe.

It was instant relief to breathe through the helmet's filters. And though you knew it wouldn't last long while the air continued to thin, the moment of relief was ruined a lot sooner than you thought. Another sudden lurch to the ship, the hall you were now in tilting forward so you started to slide. You clutched at Wolffe's arm as you careened toward a doorway in the floor and tumbled through. The door opened and you spilled into the room, one of the dorms. Bunks had all toppled into a pile on the floor and now the two of you joined the mess. Various parts of your body were now throbbing in pain, your limbs all tangled in the metal bunks. You both struggled to get yourselves standing atop the pile, especially while you were still handcuffed, but the room was too large and there was simply no hope at reaching the doorway back into the hall. You were trapped.

One of your hands was bleeding from a cut. You pressed it against your leg, accidentally tugging at Wolffe as you moved so he noticed. He inched closer, balancing along a lattice of metal poles, and started to remove his gloves to put over your hands instead.

"This is exactly why I didn't want you here."

Though Wolffe was facing you, the room was far too dark to get a read on his expression. His voice, however, was laced with distress.

"Oh, this exact situation is why? Got it." You almost laughed. This was as close as you'd come to your questions finally getting answered and it sounded insane.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean, Wolffe? What reason could you possibly have for fucking with my career and my self worth and--"

"I wanted you safe!"

To your surprise, Wolffe firmly clasped the sides of your arms as soon as he was done fixing his gloves onto your hands.

"I... kriff." He hung his head for a moment before looking back up. You desperately wanted to turn on the helmet's flashlight to see him better. "Things are getting worse. You know that. Every day, every battle. More loss. I couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you."

Your mind hummed as if it had just been filled with the details of a new mission, thoughts fracturing off into possible tactics and approaches. You were now 100% sure he had feelings for you, no margin of error. But instead of confessing to you, he had pushed you away. Made you wonder if you had been the problem. Put his men in danger by not using your expertise. Why hadn't he just talked to you? What would have otherwise been a thrilling thing to hear, that your feelings were requited, was now mired with a sting of disappointment.

You also noted a subtle shift beneath your feet. It could simply have been the bunks sliding from your weight, or it could be the ship turning again. You chose not to comment on it just yet, needing to address at least one thing with Wolffe now while you could.

"Why couldn't you have told me this sooner?"

"Would you have listened?"

"Of course."

"Please, you're the most stubborn person I know," he scoffed.

"Me?!"

"Yes, you. Just couldn't stay off this mission, could you." He didn't sound as upset at the thought of you being here as he had earlier. If anything, he seemed cheeky. You responded in kind.

"Well I had to handcuff and trap you in a room to get you to answer a simple question. So who's really the stubborn one here?"

"Ah, so this was all planned then, huh?"

You chuckled, an odd sound through the helmet. "Yep, you know me. I've always got a plan."

"Hmm. Got one to get us out of here?"

You smirked, though you knew he couldn't see it. "As a matter of fact, I do. Better hold on to something."

The room had continued to shift. Wolffe had likely felt it too after a while but you liked to believe you impressed him with your psychic timing. Though, come to think of it, he was probably used to such phenomena with Plo Koon. Damn.

You crouched down simultaneously, gripping onto some beams until the room eventually shifted far enough that the whole pile of beds went tumbling over again. You tried to lessen the blow to your body, Wolffe even shielded you a bit with his own, but ultimately you both were at the mercy of gravity and whatever cascading objects came with it. After a short time longer, you were able to pick your way through it all and reach the door, which was now vertical as doors should be, though upside down from where it was meant to be.

Now running along the ceiling, you were able to more quickly finish your journey to the escape pods. The helmet helped you breathe, and if Wolffe was having trouble without one, he didn't show it. You clasped each other's hands as you twisted around the last few corners.

When you arrived at the loading docks, there were only a handful of troopers left to board a pod. They had to be maneuvered to rotate around upright and re-dock before they could be reopened. The last one clicked into place just as you showed up. Wolffe insisted you get in first while he waited for his men to board but you silently shook your head. You would've insisted he board along with you, but you knew it'd be futile. Wolffe was right, you both were simply too stubborn. So you squeezed his hand a little tighter and stayed by his side until it was finally your turn.

You all but collapsed into the pod. Wolffe's helmet was ripped off and tossed on the ground, to be admired another time. The struggle wasn't over yet, of course. You'd still need to lead the pods safely through the minefield. But for now, for just a brief moment, you allowed yourself to lean against each other and breathe.

Your shoulders rested side-by-side and your faces were turned to gaze at each other, filled with exhaustion and relief. You glanced down at your hands lying between you, still firmly intertwined. You gave a small chuckle and Wolffe grunted in questioning response.

"The binders." You raised your hands up to show there was no longer anything connecting you two, except for your own choice to hold on. You had no idea when the restraints had fallen off.

Wolffe smiled a little and disentangled his fingers from yours. You were about to pout until he moved them over to your face, gentling cupping along your jaw and allowing his thumb to trace absently at your cheek. His bare fingers were calloused and rough but you leaned into his touch regardless. After a while, you started to wonder if his strokes were a bit more purposeful, tracing some sort of shape over and over as if outlining his feelings for you.

"We need to talk," you whispered. You wouldn't be satisfied with mere sketches on your skin, pleasant as they were.

Thankfully Wolffe gave you a nod in agreement just as Comet announced that all systems were a go. Your moment of reprieve was over and it was back into the fight once more. You weren't sure what would happen between you two afterward. Maybe you would finally kiss him, maybe you'd get back at him somehow for all the grief he'd caused. Maybe you would still hate him, maybe you'd admit you loved him. Regardless, there was some hope for more conversations, more understanding. And that was enough.

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[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Older Favorites 9

This week, we're looking at some of our favorite older fics - eleven of them, to be exact. Check them out beneath the cut, and leave a comment or kudos if you like them!

would you stay for a while by eldritch_beau (3937, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek sees the ocean for the first time.

Reccer says: A canon-flavored moment I desperately wish had happened. Beautiful prose and powerful emotion.

Closer Still by MithrilWren (4904, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek's latest foray into magical experimentation goes awry, leaving them stuck together in a pocket dimension of their own creation. Or, "trapped in an elevator, but make it fantasy".

Reccer says: This was a delicious oneshot that expanded our favorite wizards' research projects, which in turn gave them an uninterrupted opportunity to open up to each other more. Great characterization and use of canon details.

We’re In a Different Kind of Thing Now by Thischarmingand (2668, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is sixteen (sixty-five, ninety, one hundred and seventeen), and all he wants in the world is...

Reccer says: Sharp writing with a perfectly awful (in the best way) teenaged Essek. I will be back to read and read again as a balm in trying times.

when I fall by darundik (12541, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Overworked corporate shill Essek Thelyss meets PhD student Caleb Widogast and finds there's something to be said for love and friendship.

Reccer says: This is one of my favorite fics. I've reread it several times and I honestly find it very cozy and written with love.

I shine only with the light you gave me by SkyScribbles (4533, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

There are certain things that an Umavi's son should not do, if he wishes to avoid his mother's rage and the disgust of his Den. Dancing with a human is most certainly among them.

Reccer says: Wonderful look at the Kryn Dynasty and its social ladders. Verin is a superstar.

Five Times Teleportation Failed by bob_fish & enemytosleep (10448, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Or the fic where Essek “Teleport Champ” Thelyss spends his free time performing risky teleports For Science while ruminating on what sent him to Aeor in the first place.

Reccer says: The character voice is strong and fills in some missing scenes from Essek’s POV

Lucidian Rim by literalfuckinggarbage (60266, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Pacific Rim but shadowgast, no knowledge of the movie required. Big aliens are appearing and the world made huge mechs to stop them. The mechs need to people who are similar to drive them together.

Reccer says: I've literally read this fic 3 times and it's probably time for my annual re-read. The writing is truly phenomenal the story is great (no idea how close to the movie/book it is since I haven't seen the source material) and very well paced. The mighty nein and vox machina make good appearances as side characters. I love the relationship progression, there's oh no they have to share a room, there's trauma, there's tension, it's great. Putting Essek and Caleb as equals with similar pasts was a good choice and works really well. Read this fic!!! It's incredible :)

Bitter Balm by saturdaysky (3778, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A conversation after the Nein return to Eiselcross, the day before the expedition. Feelings are hard for the unlovable.

Reccer says: It HURTS but it GOOD

but i didn’t do it right, can i try again, and again? by queenbeetle (53385, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

During a vacation to Nicodranas with the Mighty Nein, Essek and Caleb play out Dynasty Courting rituals at the expense of everyone else. So, nothing out of the normal for them, just more scandalous hand touching

Reccer says: I liked it!

the other things that make us by saturdaysky (13642, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek returns, when he can, to the sanctuary of Caleb's home. The peace of it is a balm against the tedious peril of the road, which has more misery to share than Essek had ever thought. It's nice to have a place where he can lose himself: in a book, in arcane study, in the confusing allure of Caleb's smile. It's nice. And the cats miss him, Caleb says.

Reccer says: I liked it!

And then two for this last one! the breath before the phrase by KmacKatie (175513, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek Thelyss is a leading violinist, his spot as Shadowhand of the Rosohna Philharmonic Orchestra has been uncontested for over a decade. Caleb Widogast is a recent arrival to the city, convinced by his friends to audition for one of the vacant violinist positions. After starting off on the wrong foot, Caleb and Essek get to slowly know each other, discover what brings them joy, create while defying expectations, and find out that what they can produce together may just be better than anything they can do separately.

Reccer 1 says: I liked it! Reccer 2 says: This has to be my favorite AU. The author's knowledge about music shines brilliantly and I've really enjoyed the music recommended to share a sense of the character's performances. Reading this the first time over a year ago now genuinely re-sparked my love for string instruments and I even attended an orchestra performance last year because of it! I enjoyed the world building, how conflict between characters is handled, and the development of Caleb and Essek's relationship. This is a fic I've read more than once.

You can also check out our past older favorite reclists here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. 

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring One Shots! One chapter and done, probably not too long.

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!