#the only one fic

[ivystoryweaver]

IvyStoryWeaver's 1st Fic-iversary

My Masterlist

EVENT CLOSED

🎉 I posted my first Tumblr fic/first Moon Knight fic With You on May 29, 2023!

📚 Since then, I've posted 60 stories involving over 120 different chapters/individual posts, a few Moodboards, and Oscar Isaac Characters Valentines

💞 I have the most fun moots and lovely followers and I gotta celebrate with you!

📥 SEND ME REQUESTS! Unlike for my 1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration, I am taking regular, real, full requests - anything you like!

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

❓What’s your favorite story? Tell me! (Masterlist)

📖 Send me requests about your fave stories! And questions about where any of my fic characters are now. I would love to tell you about:

How is Marc doing with his sobriety after With You? or how is Jake adjusting to being out of the shadows? (Or how were they before the story?)

Questions about Poe and Elia from The Only One

Or Jake and the mob boss’ daughter from 3 Times fic

How about ghost!reader and the boys in Spectre

How are Marc/Steven and their kiddos Elle & Max from Eight Nights doing?

Or did you like Lockley, Grant and Jakob better in What a Mother Can Be?

How's life for Steven after Steven Grant Oblivious Roommate Headcanons

Or Miguel after (or before!) Decadent

Let's not forget Perfect Fit Nathan and Nate (part 2 is almost done, I promise!)

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

DON'T FORGET:

🎮 - games - "Would You Rather?" "FMK" etc 🤍- get-to-know-you questions here or Top 3's here

OR just shout into my Askbox

Scroll to the bottom of this post for prompt ideas

All of you have made this the most fun year in a long time. Thank you!

My Masterlist

Askbox

Previous Celebrations

[bamsara]

"youve already written that trope" yesss. i like it a lots. i will be writing it again. 1000 stories of the same trope over and over again for ten million years

[ivystoryweaver]

@i-still-dont-like-your-face ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

hello everyone today we’re thinking about: Poe Dameron with wings

~~

Reblog, don’t repost

Support me on Ko-Fi!

[reineydraws]

jason is a grandpa's boy and u cant take this away from me!!! they cook together, they discuss literature together, and when jay comes back, they clean their guns together haha. ofc they celebrate their birthday together too! 😌

✨️🎂 hbd jay & alfie 🎂✨️

[unceeled]

nanami kento never intended for your relationship to be the first page of his newest journal. he didn't even notice when he began documenting it with a black ink pen in a plain leather notebook—writing down the moment you finally agreed to be his, as if you hadn’t been smitten by him from the first time you laid eyes on him.

each passing page became a piece of you. his dilemma on buying you flowers filled the 14th page, and by the 34th, there was a polaroid of you holding your favorite flowers—this time, he knew with confidence. your trips together occupied a few more pages, and even more were dedicated to the places he dreamed of taking you. from losses to love, nanami wrote it all down. it was his best way of keeping you—of keeping what you shared. he wanted your love to remain forever, not only in his heart but also in his hands.

when the wedding bells finally rang and he wore a suit unlike his usual ones, nanami kento stood before you, journal in hand. he read from it, a love documented from the beginning to what felt like the end of the beginning. his vows were written as though he'd known all along that he would marry you. but no, his journal didn’t just record the start of your relationship or the journey leading up to that day.

what nanami kento had not expected was that he would end up documenting your entire story.

as he began the last page with your name, followed by a comma, he wrote down everything he planned for your future together—plans he wanted to set in motion as soon as he returned from his mission. plans he would have given to you immediately after.

"let me take you to malaysia?"

you read over and over again, desperately hoping for more to follow, for another page to turn. but there were no more words. no more pages. and nanami’s voice, his presence, would no longer carry past this page.

yet, it’s hard to be angry with him. because, in the end, nanami was always a gentleman. whether knowingly or not, he left you one final letter—a letter filled with love, just like every page in his journal. because maybe, just maybe, the journal wasn’t for him to keep your love. maybe it was for you to keep his—not only in your heart but in your hands, after all.

[crispyliza]

Fanfiction in the late 2000s-early 2010s was wild bc you'd find a beautifully written story with the most compelling heart-wrenching plot you've ever seen and the author's note would be like:

Author with a username like ~SasukesWaifuxD~ : Ohayo gozaimasu! ↖(^▽^)↗, I'm sowwy it took me so long to update (๑•́_•̀๑)

tsundere twink from their fic : It was about damn time you idiot (눈‸눈)

~SasukesWaifuxD~ : Hey now! It's not my fault the plot bunnies kept wunning away fwom me (╥﹏╥)

tsundere twink: W-watever, it's not like I missed you or anything (💢,,>﹏<,,) b-baka!

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

it’s just that endverse!castiel and demon!dean would match each other’s freak. kind of tragic they never met

[keferon]

I love when they do the funny acrobatics for whatever plot reasons👌

[queerdraws]

Fanart for a snippet of my most favorite heartbreaking moment from swordsmans's fic bone-breaker ospreys mate for life (rated E)

[totalspiffage]

Obsessed with this picture of Lychee, Niko, and Keel in the back throwing his little hands up.

[sp0o0kylights]

“Dustin isn’t coming.”

“What?” Eddie says, all frantic and jovial movements freezing instantly.

His eyes narrow on Lucas--the bearer of bad news. “Why?” 

“Family emergency.” 

Mike makes a face. “I saw his mom yesterday and she was fine, so is this a…?” 

He makes a gesture that is entirely incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t Sinclair and his terrifying girlfriend.

(At least, Eddie thinks Max is Lucas’s girlfriend this week. It got a little hard to keep up after the third break-up-make-up marathon, and he frankly, stopped bothering to try.

It helped that she barely spoke--The only time notable being when Eddie had mockingly asked Sinclair if he needed a cheerleader when she’d first sat in, upon which she’d asked Eddie if he needed new kneecaps with a look in her eye that said she was serious.)

Wheeler Jr.’s gesture however, made her put her book down.

“You think he’s having migraines again?” She not so much asked as demanded, which had Mike shrugging. 

“Dunno." Lucas says. "Dustin didn’t say.” 

“Gotta be, if he called Dustin.” Mike mutters, Lucas shuffling his papers about as he begins to set up for Hellfire. He was the last in the room, practically late, which Eddie had planned on harassing him for had he not announced Henderson’s absence. 

(Fucking freshmen. They just weren’t terrified of Eddie like they used to be.) 

 “Robin must be sick or something, otherwise he’d call her.”  Lucas finishes as he finally sits down. 

“Didn’t the Marching Band go on some trip?” Mike turns to address the rest of the table, and gets nods from Jeff and Gareth both. 

“Yeah they’re marching in some parade in Indianapolis.” Jeff confirms. 

“So his last resort was Dustin?” Max is getting that tone in her voice, the one that makes everyone at Hellfire very uncomfortable. “Typical.” 

She pushes away from the table, making a show of gathering up her things before rising easily to her feet.

Eddie trades looks with the elder Hellfire members as she makes her exit--the kind that says they’re all going to be talking about this later. 

They knew their freshmen had some weird obsession with the former King, of course, but Mayfield too?

What the hell was up with that guy?

At least Eddie thinks, right before things are once again shot to shit, they can go back to playing the game.

He can make it work this early into things, and if Henderson isn't’ a fan of what he’s about to do to the kid’s character in his absence, well. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking absent then. 

“So what, Max, you're gonna go over there and make it worse?” Mike snorts. 

Fatal mistake.

Eddie almost strangles him for it, if only because it prolongs this entire unnecessary conversation. 

Max performs a military perfect heel turn, coming straight back for Wheeler Jr., which makes him right about fall out of his seat in panic. 

“What was that, Wheeler?” 

“I’m just saying--!” 

“We don’t know Steve’s having migraines.” Lucas reiterates, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s something else.” 

“Does Steve get migraines a lot?” Grant asks, because despite all appearances he’s a terrible gossip and gets sucked in far too easily.

Eddie throws a pencil at him for it. 

“Hel-looo, we have a game!?” He thunders, but unfortunately for him, precious Stevie-Weavies headache now has everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah, though he’s really good at pretending he doesn’t.” Lucas answers with a put upon sigh. 

“There’s a whole pattern--he ignores it until it gets super bad, then he has to call Robin or Dustin to come get him when he inevitably gets stranded at work or the like, grocery store.” 

“Well who else do you think he’d call?” Mike scoffs again. He does a lot of that, when discussing Harrington. “It’s not like his parents are--Ow, Max!” 

“Close your mouth before I close it for you.” She hisses and Mike, shockingly, does just that. 

To Eddie, she says; 

“Your ass isn’t any better, or did you forget I live across from you?” 

Eddie--who had an insult primed and ready--promptly shuts his mouth.

(Fucking! Asshole! Freshmen!) 

“Maybe I should go too.” Lucas says, hedging a look between his girlfriend and his DM. 

“No.” She snaps, pointing a finger at him.

 “If you go, then this idiot,” she flicks her finger to  Mike, “will go and then we really will make it worse. Stay here before your bichon frise has a fit about all his sheep abandoning him.”

Then she’s turning on her heel again, storming out. 

“What the hell’s a bichon frisé?” Gareth asks in the aftermath, frowning. 

“It’s a type of ahhhh--” Jeff clearly thinks better of the explanation, eyes sliding to Eddie.

Who’s scowling.

“I know what a bichon frisé is, Jeff.” He snaps. 

“I don’t.” Grant loudly complains. 

Jeff attempts to both calm Eddie and explain while Mike and Lucas spend far too many minutes looking after Max. 

“Enough!” Eddie howls, temper finally getting the best of him. “Are we playing or do you also need to go sit by the King’s bedside?”  

“Thank you,” Mike says, like he wasn’t a third of the entire problem. “Let’s play!”

They make it about ten entire minutes before getting knocked off track again. 

In fairness, not that Eddie would ever admit it--the second meltdown is his own fault.

xXx

Hellfire is Eddie’s domain. 

It’s one of the few places where he could relax without getting harassed or hounded, and having his freshmen--his!--abandon him for King Fucking Steve had set him off. 

So he’d made a few comments about it.

Maybe introduced an NPC who sounded suspiciously similar to Harrington, only to instantly kill him off. 

Made another couple of nasty comments. 

Who cares? It worked him through his snit rather nicely, and his boys all knew to leave him be.

Except, apparently, for Lucas. 

“Dude, would you lay off?”  The kid finally snaps, pencil slamming down on the table. 

Which is the most backbone-like thing anyone has ever heard Sinclair say, and he gets far more whistles for it than he should.

Eddie pins him in place with a glare. 

“What was that Sinclair?” He snarls, voice as menacing as he can make it.

(It’s pretty terrifying, he’s practiced quite a bit with it.) 

Sinclair flinches, but doesn’t back down. 

“I said lay off. Steve has migraines because of--” He stops, before seeming to come to a decision. “Because of me. He took a hit for me, and I owe him a life debt for it.” 

To Eddie, he says; “You get what those are, right?” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t just for you--”

“That time with Billy was!” Lucas is quick to snarl. “But you know what Mike, you’re right. It wasn’t just for me. He T-boned a car for all of us!” 

Sinclaire is on his feet now, which is the unfortunate moment that Eddie realizes he has once again lost control of the room. 

A situation he firmly blames on Steve Harrington, because he’s petty. 

“Or did you forget that part? That’s you, me, Will, Nancy and Jonathan right there! Nevermind the tunnel. Or the junkyard! 

“We had the junkyard handled--”

Lucas scoffs. 

“We absolutely did not.” 

“I don’t get why you’re all making such a big deal out of this. He’s the fighter. That’s what he does. That’s why we brought him to the tunnel.”

“You recall what happened at Starcourt, right?” Lucas challenges, furious. “You did see him after, right?” 

This, finally, seems to shut Mike up. 

“Shouldn’t you be mad at him for that?” He says after a moment, and the rest of Hellfire has completely put aside all actual gaming to watch this play out with a morbid sort of fascination. 

Eddie allows it, only because he’s trying to breathe the way Wayne taught him to before he loses it entirely and throws both of the idiot kids out of the drama room. 

“He pulled your sister into it.”

“Have you met Erica!? You can’t pull her into shit!” Lucas spits furiously. “That wasn’t D&D, Mike. It was the Upsi--real life.” 

Lucas is quick to correct himself, even in the heat of the moment--as all the kids are, like the entire school hasn’t clocked that they have some weird ass secret they’re terrible at hiding.

“And if we’re playing those games, then who pulled him into the tunnels? Who made him come to the junkyard?”

“Dustin.” Mike says snidely. 

“You don’t get to blame Dustin when Steve was the only person around.” 

“There were people around! They just weren’t people who--weren’t--who couldn’t--”

“Finish that sentence.” Lucas demands 

“Be trusted.” Mike spits out, like it hurts him. 

“Exactly.” 

“El went through way more than Steve ever has! El--”

“El was using her po--doing mage things! And also, she shouldn’t have had to go through all this shit either! We can’t rely on her to save the day every single time, Mike--and look at how hurt she gets!”

“She--”

“She hides it from you, you know. How bad she hurts. Cause she wants to put your feelings first.” 

“I--”

“Will does too.”  Is Lucas’s parting shot. His backpack is in his hands in a blink, papers and character figure shoved wildly into it, before he’s storming out the door in a poor mimicry of Mayfield.

“Harrington T-Boned a car?” Grant says, in the resounding silence. 

“That BMW of his hasn’t had a scratch on it--” Jeff says, with an inquisitive tilt to his head. 

“He didn’t use the Beamer.” Mike interrupts, angry and sulking. “Are we playing or not?”

“I’m gonna say not, given we are down two players.’ Eddie tells him through clenched teeth. 

“I’m going to be so mad if Steve doesn’t have a migraine.” Mike grumbles, as he begins packing up his stuff. 

The rest of Hellfire follow his lead, after one look at Eddie’s face convince the lot of them that it’s best to flee now, before Eddie unleashes all his pent up rage. 

“Not as mad as I’ll be, Wheeler.” Eddie promises darkly.

And it is a promise--because now, he’s going to follow all his stupid (sans Mike, who isn’t in his good graces either but at least stayed) freshmen--and go visit one fallen King.

If Harrington doesn’t have a headache now, he will when Eddie’s done with him.

[ivystoryweaver]

The Only One

Episode 8

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Summary: Your deepest, darkest secret is out. How will you handle this new attention? Who can get through to you? (I bet you can guess)

Word Count: 2.1k

Content: nothing too intense - self-doubt, mild angst, slight injuries

PREVIOUSLY on "The Only One"...

Poe backed away, stunned, brushing bits of gravel from his face and hair. He thought to approach you, but stopped short at a miraculous sight.

Your hair had tumbled down, beautiful and wild, your eyes closed in concentration. Hands clenched by your sides, you held yourself still as bits of rock and earth circled you slowly.

And behind you, dark, slick wings unfurled.

As the Millennium Falcon raced to its safe destination, Poe gripped your hand tightly, through the slightest opening in the storage bay where you had hid yourself.

His thumb gently stroked yours, back and forth, steadily, reminding you to breathe in time with his ministrations.

In...out...in...and out.

"That's my girl," he would encouragingly whisper at various intervals, calmly caressing and encouraging you to breathe through each hiccup and gasp.

It was a miracle he'd got you this far. He thought he'd never get you onto this ship and off that forsaken salty rock called Crait.

Previously...

The ragtag remnant of the Resistance momentarily stopped, stunned by the vision of your dark wingspan and bits of rock circling your body.

Poe winced at the tiny scrapes littering his arms, where you had inadvertently flung gravel outward using the Force - his bare forearms the only shield for his face.

Everything that could be going wrong for a person like you was now careening off a cliff into utter disaster.

Your secret made itself known to everyone. Both secrets: the fact that you could wield the Force and the fact that you possessed demon wings.

Worse, everyone was staring at you, disbelievingly.

Worse still, there was no time for this. Kylo Ren and the First Order were surely mere minutes behind you all, following you through the hidden Rebel base in the mine.

Poe could hardly think of which fire to put out first, but he had to do something, before you panicked. You could not afford to have a panic attack right now - not with uncontrolled power such as yours. It would surely draw the wrong kind of attention - acting as a beacon for the First Order, impeding escape.

The Resistance would be finished once and for all, if you were found.

He started with your name, softly.

Your lip trembled at the sound of his voice.

Since the moment you sent rocks flying outward, you had yet to open your eyes.

"Ells," he repeated, with more urgency. "It's me. Can-can I touch your hand? Is that okay?"

Your chest heaved as reality began to take hold.

Poe ordered everyone onto the ship, hoping to disperse the crowd. Finn took notice and repeated Poe's command - the two of them realizing that Rey and Leia were sharing some sort of moment.

Something was wrong. Something greater than your display of power. You felt it too because your eyes snapped open.

"Oh no," you whispered, unable to understand that it was Master Skywalker's death rippling through the Force.

Thankfully, most everyone had boarded the Millennium Falcon by now, leaving Poe to reason with you. He nodded for Finn to join his comrades, and after concerned glances toward both you and Rey, he complied.

"Ells?" Poe repeated, reaching out for your hand. "It's just me. You okay? We have to get out of here. We have to board the ship."

Your eyes searched for Leia's. She met your gaze over Rey's shoulder during their embrace. You felt something in the Force - something painful, but you weren't strong enough to discern anything further - oblivious to the fact that Leia had just lost her twin brother.

It was then that you realized that Leia and Poe could now both see you for the demon you truly were, which made you automatically withdraw from Poe's reach.

"Come on, sweetheart," Poe coaxed, his dark eyebrows arched pleadingly. "Let's get you out of here - somewhere safe. Come on, I've got you. Just take my hand."

"No," you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. The metaphorical weight of hiding your true self combined with the literal weight of your newly unfurled wings felt like a millstone pulling you to the bottom of the deepest ocean.

Poe lowered his hand. "Come on, Ells. I won't touch you. I won't let anyone bother you. Let's go - we have to go."

You backed away, shaking your head vehemently. "No. Leave me. I'm...like them. I'm...wrong."

Poe did grip your hand then, commandingly, taking a gamble that you wouldn't freak out. That the foundation you'd built together as friends - as...hopefully more, would anchor you here - just long enough to get you on the ship.

"There's nothing wrong with you. And I'm not leaving you here," he fiercely proclaimed, trapping your hand in both of his and pulling it to his chest, urging you forward a stumbling step or two.

"No, Poe, I-I'll hurt you," you protested, breathlessly, although your body complied. "I did hurt you, like they did - like they tortured you - "

Poe squeezed your hand, touching his forehead to yours. "You're going to have to tear my arm off to keep me here. I'm not letting go, do you understand?"

Your breath trembled as you started to cry, but Poe forged ahead, appealing to your dutiful side. You seemed to take pride in following orders, performing your duties admirably. You weren't one for public accolades but a little one on one encouragement typically caused you to beam with pride.

"Get on the ship with me," he softly commanded, his breath ghosting your cheek. "That's an order."

You were nodding before you could think to protest. Something in you longed to please him - to be of use in the Resistance, even now.

Poe all but dragged you up the ramp of the Millennium Falcon - his heart shattering as you struggled to move naturally with your new wingspan - going so far as to bump one of them, causing you to hiss in pain...

...before your breath caught in your chest as you realized all over again that everyone could see the real you.

And they did stare.

"As you were," Poe ordered, waving them off. "Get to work." And he never let go of you until you were as far away from prying eyes as this crowded ship could afford.

...which is where you found yourself now, stowed in a small cargo bay with Poe's hold on your hand tender yet possessive.

His mind raced with fear -with terror, even, at how close or far behind the First Order loomed...if the remaining Resistance had even escaped unseen.

Despite many capable pilots, he yearned to be in the cockpit, in charge, or at least assisting the Jedi Rey. Which reminded him that something seemed dreadfully wrong between Rey and Leia. Poe shuddered to think of what had become of Master Skywalker.

But his duty right now was here, with you.

If he could keep you calm and breathing - if you could only make it to a safe destination - then he could help you. He could help everyone, after failing so utterly before.

But if you lashed out again, with your power - the consequences for everyone on board could be grave.

So he told you the same things over and over - to breathe, that you were safe, that everyone was safe, and the plan. Routine and reality were key for you. So he gave you everything safe and normal he could.

The Millennium Falcon touched down at a port off the beaten path, discreet, and free from First Order control. The plan was simply to refuel and gather any available supplies, including food, extra transports, fighters, ships or weapons.

Nearly every Resistance fighter dispersed as quickly and inconspicuously as possible to make this happen. Naturally, a small crew remained with the Falcon, making necessary repairs, refueling and guarding their only remaining transport.

This included the young Jedi Rey, who had grown rather attached to the ship, and, naturally, Chewbacca.

Poe found the two of you left mercifully alone for the moment. Your grip on his hand tightened to the point of pain and your eyes remained squeezed shut, as if you could keep the real world from invading your safe bubble.

"Elia...we're here. It's just you and me, okay?" Poe covered your joined hands with his free hand for good measure. "You're safe here. Say it."

Exhaling shakily, you nodded once. "I-I'm safe."

"That's right, sweetheart," he soothed, pulling your joined hands to the warmth of his chest. "We're safe, but we have to get some supplies. That's our mission. You're with me, okay? You report directly to me. Can you do that?"

"I...I can't hurt anyone," you gasped. "Need to stay right here." Fresh tears spilled out of your eyes at the pain surging through your cramped wings. You felt as safe as possible here, enclosed, with Poe to quietly reassure you, but the space was too small, in reality, for your...new body.

Poe blew out a tense breath, hoping like hell he was treating you in the way you needed - how you deserved. "I can let you stay here if you want, but first I need to know if you're hurt. I want you to tell me the truth."

You rocked back and forth a bit, trying to focus on the sound of his voice and the steady warmth of his hand - your touchstone.

Shit...Poe felt like he was losing you. Okay, new approach.

"Elia, tell me the supply list. We need to get it, but...I want make sure I don't forget anything. Tell me what's on the list," he gently directed, knowing you had that thing memorized top-to-bottom, inside-out. You could recite a great many lists and procedures verbatim, much to the slight annoyance of some of your colleagues.

But it was damn handy in a situation like this.

You answered immediately, opening your eyes and swiping at your tears with your free hand.

"Uhh...it-it's medkit, blasters, knives, rations, nav kit, thermal blanket, hooks, glowrods, stimpills..." You rattled off survival items, as well as supplies needed to restock, refuel and get to the next safe destination. By the time you finished, Poe was smiling tenderly at you, nodding encouragingly.

And by then, you were looking at him too. But, since eye contact was nearly impossible for you, your gaze wandered down to the scrapes and cuts on his forearms - the wounds caused by you.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered disbelievingly. "I'm the last person who should hurt you, Poe. You're my best friend."

"You're mine too," he soothed, reaching to trace the shape of your jaw, guiding your obsessive stare away from his cuts and back to his face. "You're hurt too. We need each other."

Your eyes darted away from his but you didn't flinch from his touch.

"I need you out there with me, Ells. Will you help me?"

Chancing a peek at his earth colored eyes, you felt, for a moment, as if he saw you - just you. Not your wings. Not your secrets, exposed, nor the danger you posed.

"I can get the supplies," you answered simply, allowing him to help you climb out of your hiding spot. Your wings provided a bit of a struggle, but Poe caught you by both arms as you stumbled into his.

As soon as you were steady, however, he backed away. "Sorry - you okay?"

You nodded, physically deflating as his eyes raked over the expanse of your wings. "Don't look at me," you uttered, all your fears exposed - a raw nerve.

Poe lowered his gaze, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, you're just...you're beautiful."

"I'm not. I'm...not. I'm dangerous. I'm a demon. But I'm not that."

Smiling wistfully to himself, Poe remembered back to your first date. "You are to me, Ells."

He noticed how you automatically reached for your backpack straps - your soothing motion, but...your backpack was destroyed, leaving your hands empty and your lip trembling.

Poe surged forward, sliding his fingers through yours, inviting you, with a tender caress to weave your worries into his skin - to push and pull and tug until you felt grounded and safe. He showed you what to do, twisting his fingers around yours, dragging his fingertips up, and back down - the motion he'd memorized as you fiddled with your straps a thousand times before.

A thousand times he wished it was him you would touch - him you would trust and depend on.

"I've got you." His breath brushed your forehead as he drew your intertwined fingers, pulling you as close as he'd ever dared.

Your eyes drifted closed once more, but this time, in relief, instead of an attempt to anchor yourself. Pushing your fingers in and out of his strong hands, around, in the same pattern memorized by your fidgeting digits - Poe's touch familiar - his smooth skin like the frayed straps, contrasting the calloused hands of a warrior, stalwart in their support of the Resistance...and of you.

And for the first time, wings and all, you laid your head on his shoulder and pressed your body against his.

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[pjs-everyday]

uhhh *accidentally falls in love with wife* yea *does it again on purpose*🌹

[improvapocalyps]

You have 90 minutes to complete. (original poem: r.a.)

In participation of the MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024 hosted by @mcytrecursive!

Inspired by know that all my love will be your breath (i will save you when your lights go out)

[text under cut]

1. Have you ever been in love? (Please circle your answer.) a. It's me and him b. Our hearts beat in sync c. Our lives intertwined

2. Do you understand what you’ve done? (Please circle your answer.) a. I couldn't do anything b. I lost my balance c. I doomed us both

3. It's been god knows how long since you felt phantom hands on your neck and there is no one in sight. If you were soul-bound to him and both of you died at the same time then why are you still waiting in the void? Please answer clearly, in full sentences. (Not a correct answer：I just wanted to see him one more time).

4. Define two (2)： Fate | The feeling of his forehead against yours Curse | The moment you realise he isn't linked to you anymore

5. True or False： i. It was your fault. ii. You wish you had met him under different circumstances. iii. You can’t regret a single moment that you had him. iv. You would do it all over again if you could. v. It ended long before either of you said anything.

thumbnails:

sketch cover thing for imgur link:

[soaked-doors]

“Those two things can exist at the same time. Like you said, it's all—it's all tangled up together, you and me.”

double page spread for one of my favorite luzo fics of all time, poly philtatos (the most beloved by far) by my good friend - @swordsmans!

I knew I wanted to do a double page spread the second I finished this fic and I drafted abt a dozen ideas before landing on what would ultimately become this. There were so many snippets and moments I wanted to illustrate but I ended up doing more of an abstracted version of the fic as opposed to 1:1 drawings of scenes 

funnily enough while the fic itself is told in zoros pov this spread is framed mostly through luffy’s eyes - his tears literally frame comp for their reunion, the moment he loses zoro, and the centerpiece of the first page which is this weird abstraction of him on the beach seeing zoros corpse-not-a-corpse in the waves just beyond his reach. 

gyro put the crane wives’ never love an anchor on the playlist for this fic which i heavily used as inspiration in picking ornamental things for the spread (the anchor, the fleet of ships by luffy, and the nautical rope splitting the second page). also just like. overall really heartbreaking lyrics guys 

there are smaller elements throughout the spread that are 1:1 references though (all i will say for these is if you know, you know hehe) i wish i had more time to do a lengthier piece for fanart for this fic bc it's one of the few luzo fics that have been rattling around in my brain forever now - once again please please please read poly philtatos if you haven't. gyro is a masterful writer and they deserve all the love! ok byeee

[my-castles-crumbling]

motel - November 3rd - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 248

"There's nothing else?" Sirius asked the harried-looking person at the front desk, his voice a bit desperate but not rude.

"Sorry sir," she frowned. "Two rooms on opposite sides of the building, each with a king bed. That's all we have."

James, Sirius, Remus, and Regulus all stared outside from the snow storm raging to their very ill-equipped car.

"Alright," Sirius sighed. "We'll take them. I'll share with Reg and James and Moons can share."

"That's stupid," Regulus piped up, rolling his eyes. "Share a bed with your boyfriend, Sirius. James and I can deal with each other for one night."

Frowning, Sirius looked between James and Regulus, as if trying to see if they could actually last twenty four hours without killing each other.

"I promise I won't severely injure him," Regulus added, sending Sirius an annoyed look. James just chuckled uncomfortably. "We can get along for a night, can't we, James?"

"Yeah," James shrugged, grimacing a bit.

After a moment, Sirius seemed to give in. "Fine. But remember the roads are out, so no there are ambulances if you stab each other."

It wasn't until ten minutes later when they entered their room that Regulus and James turned to each other. James, beaming ear to ear, pressed Regulus against the door and immediately began kissing down his neck. "Think we can get along for the night, Reg?" he whispered in his ear, his breath making him shiver.

"I think so," Regulus smirked, pulling their lips together.