#gotta get back into fic writing mode

[suguwu]

if you send me an ask where you give me a fake title i'll tell you what fic i would write for it!

[hai-nae]

some wips, n a finished indulgent au idea for alt carrying/travel. detail extra bc grogu must be seen fully, i actually nailed his cuteness! woo

also ya know, that 😏

[grissomesque]

Okay, so for the “I wish you would write a fic where” ask game … you don’t actually have to do this but —

Early seasons Voyager Tom Paris gets technobabbled in a shuttle to SNW. And he’s like, okay, okay, okay. Cool captain (not as pretty), retro tech (not 20th century), fun times (actually, yes, with a more chill and silly crew). But Tom’s also gotta dodge (great?) grandma Paris (the Shohreh Aghdashloo character from the Kelvinverse) and other Starfleet folks to not mess up the timeline and, um, no holodecks so that’s a bummer. And Tom ends up having this really great talk with Ortegas about flying being about trust in yourself and your ship and crew … and Tom misses his ship and crew. He even misses leola root. So he and Ortegas figure out to technobabble him back and — since this is you — when Tom gets back he talks to Janeway about what happened (Temporal Prime Directive? To hell with it.) and how Starfleet was different then. He felt different there. And he liked it. He liked feeling less bound by regulations and more seat-of-the-pants. And Janeway tips her hand that sometimes she feels the same way … about a lot of things (long, lingering look) … and what would Tom do if Voyager wasn’t such a regulations-and-protocol ship? And, of course, he kisses her and she kisses him back and happy, happy, happy.

Ahem.

Anyway.

Yeah.

“The Delta Flyer,” Kathryn says, thoughtful.

Tom frowns. “What about it?”

“What you’re describing. It’s a bit like the Flyer, isn’t? That shuttle is like a thing out of time with all its buttons and dials and manual interfaces. You’ve got both more and less control, in a way. Less of a… safety net.” She smiles, a little wistfully. “And you’re more present at that helm. Me, too.”

Tom is almost afraid to trust what he thinks he’s hearing. But the way he sees it, he’s got two options here: maintain the status quo, just long looks and the occasional brush of her hand on his arm keeping them afloat for the next seventy-five years… Or, pack everything he’s just learned from his trip through time, the fearlessness of Erica Ortegas, the sheer, heart-pounding recklessness of the 2250s, into one grand gesture that neither of them—for better or worse–will be able to go on ignoring.

Because he did imagine staying, on Pike’s Enterprise. He thinks he might've fit in better in the past. But Temporal Prime Directive aside, he’d known that for all the things he might’ve gained—all the modern conveniences he could live without—there is this one thing, this one hope, that he could not leave behind.

So he kisses her.

Immediately, he feels her twist a little, twist away from him, and shit, shit he’s terrified he’s just made a serious mistake, but then he hears a clink and he realizes she was still holding her cup and saucer and now her hands are sliding up his chest, around his neck, and she’s leaning in, and she’s kissing him, kissing him, kissing him back.

And then a thought occurs to him, and he pulls back just enough to see her face.

“But—the Delta Flyer design,” he asks, urgent, breathless. “You like it, right?”

“I like it,” she confirms. Her laugh is low in her throat and her cheeks are flushed and all of this makes him feel a little lightheaded, makes him want to kiss her again, especially, especially when she orders the computer to secure her ready room doors. There is, in fact, nothing else in all the galaxy he wants so much as to kiss her again right this second, because in a way, after all, he did wait over a century for this chance.

And so he does.

[Send me whatever and I'll write you a thing!]

[educatedsimps]

Hi! Saw your requests were open and I just had to stop by! Could I request a (not exactly angst bc the idea is funny but definitely in character for him) Bokuto x reader where he's ranting to a friend about how he loves to hug the reader and his friend just makes an offhand comment about how he'll probably crush her since he's a pretty big guy and he goes all emo mode about it. He doesn't want to hurt anyone :( Obviously we gotta add some comfort at the end for the silly guy

≪ back to fics masterlist

bokuto kōtarō  x f!reader

a/n: omg of course!! i haven't had the chance to write for bokuto and yes i agree this is literally perfect for him 🥰

cw: timeskip spoilers, atsumu being stupid, some hurt/comfort, msby crack

"I can’t wait to go home after this. I’m exhausted," Sakusa sighed.

"It’s not useful practice if it’s not exhausting, Omi-Omi. Be glad you’ve got teammates like us," Atsumu drawled, winking at his teammate and earning a disgusted glare from across the table.

"I thought today’s practice was fun! We got to try the new unorthodox version of our quick attack, and we've almost got it!" Hinata chirped next to Atsumu, with bits of his food flying from his mouth.

"I'm fine with it as long as you guys don't overexert yourselves during training," Lisa, Atsumu's girlfriend and the team's physiotherapist, chimed in from Atsumu's other side.

"What are you guys planning to do when you get home?" Meian asked, stuffing a rice ball in his mouth.

"Shower," was Sakusa's immediate answer.

"Probably do a little bit of meditation," Hinata mused.

"Call my brother to ask for more meal prep bentos," Atsumu said. An amused scoff came from his girlfriend.

"What about you, Bokuto?"

Having been focused on his food the whole time, Bokuto nearly choked on his rice when called upon by his captain. With tempura crumbs coating his lips, he smiled widely and announced, "I'm going home to give y/n a big hug!"

"You sure love hugging y/n, Bokuto-san!" Hinata chuckled, popping a salmon nigiri in his mouth.

"Of course I do! I love hugging her! She's so huggable and I just wanna squeeze her so tight all the time and transfer all of my love for her," Bokuto said, with with his fists in the air. "You guys should all hug your girlfriends tight! The tighter you hug her the more she'll know you love her!"

Shooting Lisa a lovesick smile, Atsumu stated, "We all love hugging our girlfriends, but I won't accidentally crush 'er to bits like someone." He nodded towards Bokuto.

Bokuto stilled, staring at Atsumu with confusion.

"Miya..." Meian warned under his breath.

"What? I mean, have ya seen the guy? He's huge! Could prob'ly flatten 'er if he wanted to," Atsumu continued, chortling at the thought. He stopped short as he noticed the glares from Meian and Sakusa. "What? What'd I say?"

By then, Bokuto was already in a completely different headspace. He had a blank expression on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. His shoulders were slightly hunched and his usually spiky hair seemed to droop at the edges.

Sakusa sighed what was probably the heaviest sigh in the history of mankind as Hinata stage-whispered to his teammate, "Atsumu-san, I think you hurt Bokuto's feelings."

Wide eyed, the blonde setter started to defend himself. "WHA-?! no, i- I DIDN'T EVEN-"

Sensing Bokuto's incoming emotinal shut down (or emotional episode, in this case), Lisa quickly tried to divert their attention. "Please, 'Tsumu. You wish you were as strong as Bokuto-san. Your spikes are weak as shit-"

" 'Cause I'm literally a setter!"

"-and not an all-rounder, which is why Kageyama-kun is ranked first in the country and you're second."

"BABE-"

"Maybe I shouldn't hug her anymore. I don't wanna hurt her. What if I really crush her one day? Then she'll really be flattened like a piece of bread. I don't wanna hurt her. So this means I can't hug her anymore. But I like hugging her. But does she even like my hugs?" Came Bokuto's voice. His brows were now furrowed and his face was etched with worry.

"Of course she does, Bokuto-san! I'm sure she loves your hugs, and you love her too much to ever hurt her, right?" Hinata and Lisa attempted to cheer up the saddened spiker.

Finishing the last of his food, Sakusa stood up, muttering, "I'm exhausted, I can't deal with this right now. My partner's here to pick me up anyway," As he walked past the other side of the table, he spoke to Atsumu in a low voice. "Only a jerk like you would say something like that to Bokuto, of all people."

"SHUT UP, OMI.”

"I’m home…"

Your ears perked up at the sound of Bokuto’s voice and you immediately noticed his dejected tone. Closing your laptop, you got up from your desk and bounced over to the front door to greet him.

Sticking your head round the corner, you saw him place his stuff down by the counter before staring into space. His face was blank and devoid of emotion but his eyes were filled with inexplicable sadness. Seeing him like this tugged on your heartstrings and you knew he was going through one of his emotional episodes. You just didn’t know why.

"Hey, Kō! How was your day?" Slowly walking towards him, you reached out your arms to give him a hug but stopped short when he cried out.

"NO, DON’T HUG ME. I’LL CRUSH YOU."

You froze with your arms mid-air before you dropped them back to your side. He had one hand held out to stop you from coming closer and his face was tucked into his other arm. You could hear quiet sniffles coming from him and your heart broke seeing how upset he was.

"But you already have a crush on me, baby. And I have a crush on you too! I thought we’ve already established that?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t work. It was like he didn’t even hear you, so you decided to give him some space (like Akaashi had advised). You guided him to sit on the couch while you went about the house finishing up your chores. After several minutes, he seemed to feel a little better and you decided to talk to him (also like Akaashi had advised).

Sitting by his side on the couch, you reached out and held his hands in your own. His eyes were downcast and he was avoiding your gaze as if his life depended on it.

"Kō? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"Look at me, baby. Please? I wanna see your cute face," you cooed. He pouted for a while more (which was adorable, by the way) before he finally caved.

"Tsum-Tsum said I'll crush you if I hug you too tight 'cause I'm so much bigger and stronger than you. And I don't wanna crush you, I promise! It just made me sacred to think I might not know my own strength and end up hurting you in the process. That's why I'm scared of accidentally hurting you when I’m excited and I know that if I did, you wouldn't say anything which is why I don't wanna accidentally hurt you with my hugs in the first place-" He swallowed the rest of his words as you pressed your lips to his.

"Kō, I love your hugs. They're the warmest hugs anyone has ever given me. Don't tell my mom, but sometimes your hugs are even better than hers," You giggled softly. A small smile appeared on his face as he looked at you. "And it's not a bad thing that you're so strong. It makes your arms really nice to hug! I promise you'll never be able to crush me. I'm stronger than you think, you know?"

"Really? You really like my hugs?" He asked, hope in his eyes.

"Really. A hundred per cent. A thousand per cent. I wouldn't like it any other way, Kō," You reassured him, kissing him sweetly once more. Within seconds, his entire mood had shifted and he was now beaming.

"Okay! I can hug you now!" He cheered. Before you could process anything, you were held in your favourite set of arms and wrapped up in the warmest hug on earth. You hugged him back tightly and felt his soft lips press against the crown of your head. Snuggling into his warmth, you felt so lucky to have him.

"Oh my god, anyone who says your hugs aren't perfect are clearly stupid," You sighed happily.

"Tsum-Tsum is pretty stupid sometimes," Kotaro hummed.

You pulled away, gasping in faux shock. "Really?"

"Pfft, yeah. Even Lisa says so!" He guffawed.

Before you could reply, your phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Lisa: “hey girl! hope everything’s ok with bokuto. my boyfriend’s kinda stupid sometimes so he doesn’t think before he says stuff. hope bokuto’s not feeling too down!”

Y/n: “it’s all good! managed to cheer him up pretty quickly today, haha”

Lisa: “that’s good to hear. you’re the only one who can cheer him up like that, y/n! anyway, rest well, you two. see ya next week!”

Reacting to her message with a heart, you put your phone down and turned back to your boyfriend.

"So, you gonna hug me or not?"

a/n: UM I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY??? pls lmk what u think 😭

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[mayaree-darling]

Hi i've been binging some of your fics recently and im in love! I saw that you had requests open so I was wondering if you could do scaramouche x fem reader but where reader dresses in jojifuku or other known as cutecore and scaramouche dresses in a baggy 'cool' way and reader gets made fun of for dressing differently?

of scary dog privileges & matcha lattes // scaramouche (modern au)

pairing: Scaramouche x Cutecore!Reader

synopsis: look, you may be a cute ball of pastels that can test scaramouche's patience, but you're HIS cute pastel lover. but if anyone messes with you, it's okay - his hands were made to be thrown.

from aree: for @amia-69: thanks for requesting and i hope this was satisfactory. i had too much fun with this so i hope you don't mind if it's a tad long with more scenes than you requested. i also made this a bit more feel-good by being a little silly but it’s still mostly serious, i hope you don't mind!

content: slight stalking and bullying scenario (be warned if triggering); very annoyed Scara means swearing; i'm in silly writer mode rn so this is a mix of crack and serious writing; slightly unhinged reader but hey so is scaramouche; praying this ain't OOC; fully accepted this is cringe; fem reader

fic length: 4k~ (unedited)

Scaramouche isn't dumb. He can tell anyone who sees him is asking it in their head.

How the fuck did you two end up together?

There was nothing soft looking about him besides the hair he inherited from his mother. He was his mother but with sharper lines, edges, and words. His eyes were almost a permanent glare if he didn't look bored or annoyed at everyone and everything. He always seemed to wear dark clothing, accompanied by the right amount of chains or belts here and there to complete the look, but they suited him nicely. If anything, he wore them best than most. If he wore anything less than clothes that didn't hang off his body  he looked uncomfortable. Didn't mean he didn't hear enough older people talking about his choice of clothes though.

So when he first stood next to you on the fruits and vegetables aisle at the grocery store, he realized how you two stood at different ends of the fashion spectrum. He was there with his mother for their weekly food restock and ended up getting left behind when he went to check something on his phone (typical. How may times had this happened?) When he blinked, gone was his mom, and there beside him stood you, looking at a bunch of melons.

"This shit's overpriced, the hell." you grumble it under your breath, but Scaramouche heard it loud and clear. The snort he lets out isn't unnoticed by you and you turn to him, eyebrows raised. You look at him up and down before your eyes land back to his, and he frowns.

Goddamn it, here we go. He's heard his mom talk his ear off about the clothes this morning and he wasn't gonna hear it from anyone else. He opens his mouth, ready to cuss you to next Tuesday, but you beat him to it.

"I like the eyeliner," Scaramouche stares at you incredulously, and almost as a final nail into the coffin that he heard you right, you nod in approval. You tilt your head to the side. "I gotta say though. I think eyeshadow would look a lot better. Maybe... red? Just a bit at the corners. It would look a lot nice with your eye color and would make them pop considering you wear a lot of dark shades."

Scaramouche gapes at you. He's used to getting cussed out or getting the occasional talking to about his choices in life, but fashion advice was the last thing he expected to get from some stranger in the fruits aisle.

"Thanks..." he eventually lets out. He finally takes a moment to look you up and down and wonders how the hell did he not notice you sooner when you stood out from everything like a sore thumb.

Scaramouche didn't know there were so many shades of pink in the world. Or maybe he never noticed since he never wore clothes like that, and if he was honest, he spent time with people who didn't wear that color at all. Seeing it now was like a jumpscare, just a lot softer considering it's not like you posed any actual threat but slightly still as surprising considering people randomly approaching him first was so rare. If you weren't wearing a shade of pink, you were wearing some pastel shade of another color. Pastel blue, pastel purple, white lace here and there. The skirt you wore was so frilly you looked like you were walking around with a pink cloud. You looked... soft. That was the best summary Scaramouche could put together in the amount of time he gave you a once over.

You looked like everything he was not.

"I like... the frills," he inwardly cringed the moment he said it, but he ended up just frowning at you. It was your damn fault for putting him in this position in the first place so why the hell was he the one suffering. It's not his fault he wasn't good at giving other people compliments.

You laugh, and Scaramouche wasn't sure whether he should be glad you didn't take it to heart or be offended that he actually tried his best to give you a compliment only to be shot down. "It's okay. You don't have to force yourself."

Scaramouche just frowned deeper. Now it feels like you're saying he can't give out a compliment at all. He looks you up and down again and just says what comes to his head on the spot. "You look like the cotton candy sold at the fair across the street. Actually, I think you're a lot more pink than that stuff, but still lighter? Can't tell accurately with how many shades you got going on."

He must've said something good enough for you because you're grinning at him the next second. "That's one of the nicer ones people have said to me."

Scaramouche looks at you in disbelief. "How is that even remotely nice?"

"Well, for one, I know you mean that sincerely. Second, I'll have you know I worked hard to get pretty vibrant pinks that weren't too hard on the eyes, so thanks for confirming that!"

"You made that?" You nod, and Scaramouche nods back slowly in approval, actually impressed. "Not bad."

Your eyes land on his watch and you jolt, looking at the time on your phone. You pick a random melon even when he sees you scowl at the price tag and put it into your basket. Nodding once more to him, you turn around and leave. But as he watches you round the corner, you're running back to his side once more before he can even turn away. The sudden look of alarm on your face, so different from the grin and laughter you had on earlier, immediately has him on edge.

"Please help me," you whisper, but there was no one else in the aisle besides a mother and her baby at the far end. He frowns and looks to the side.

"Do I look like I help people." it came out harsher than he intended, but didn't he give you more than he was already willing to give any other stranger? Now you were just taking advantage of him.

"I need a scary dog right now," you said it so casually and seriously he wasn't sure he heard you right. But your voice echoed correctly in his head and he actually takes a step away from you, face incredulous.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" he scoffs, not sure if he was supposed to be offended or it was a compliment from you in some weird way. "The pet shop is right next door. Go get a dog there."

"Please. You know what I mean." you look at him pleadingly and he looks away. No, no, he was not gonna break first. This wasn't his business to deal with. He's done enough for people for the day. Nope.

"Again, go look for that somewhere else. Don't you have a boyfriend to help with this kinda thing?"

You roll your eyes and Scaramouche has half a mind to smack you silly. "If I did, you think I'd be going up to strangers for help?"

"So this is a regular thing, huh?" he takes a step back and you take a step towards him.

"Of course not, you expect this kinda thing to happen sometimes. But I don't want to hide away just ‘cause some people couldn't stay away and mind their own damn business," you shuffle from one foot to another. You cast a hesitant look behind you. His eyes follow.

"What are you even-" he stops. In the corner where he last saw you turn, a hooded man hovered over the bread aisle. For a shelf that only had five pieces of loaves left he was taking his time picking, so that only meant one thing. Scaramouche watched as the man glanced over once in your direction before seemingly turning back to the bread with fake focus.

"I thought I was imagining it. But he’s giving me the evil eyes," your voice is a whisper again.

That's unpleasant. Scaramouche straightened his posture and looked at you directly. If it's a scary dog you needed then so be it.

"What are you waiting for, then?" his voice was loud, not enough to be too distracting, but enough to carry over to the asshole who decided to be a creep for the day. Scaramouche kept his eyes on you. "You need anything else? I got the car running. Let's go if you're ready."

You look up at him like he was a fucking hero and Scaramouche all but does his best to not look as pompous as he felt. He sees the guy step back a little from his view, most likely thinking twice about following you when you're suddenly with company. He all but stares the fucker down until he leaves his line of sight.

Scaramouche breathes a short sigh of relief and he sees you do the same. He wanted to leave it at that, but if the guy was planning to follow you around the mall, he'd probably stick around a bit more. So fucking annoying. Not you, though. Although you were a bit annoying, you've probably been through more today than he had. He takes your wrist lightly.

"Where to next? I have family waiting outside."

You smile, relaxed and familiar. He holds your wrist, but you guide him around the store for a few other things before heading to the counter. When you leave the shop, plastic bags in hand, he motions for you to head to the parking lot and you follow albeit hesitantly, only visibly relaxing when you see a woman standing by a car who looks eerily similar to your rescuer.

"Oh? You have a friend." Scaramouche bites back the retort that almost slips past his lips. What did she mean by that? Of course he had friends. He'd never introduce them to her and her to them but he preferred keeping those two sides of his life away from each other.

"She had a bit of a problem and needed some help," she looks at you once and back to him. She gives him a knowing look but Scaramouche could swear on his grave that what she was thinking was vastly different from what was really going on.

"I see. Will your friend be joining us for dinner?" she looks at you with a soft smile and you return it. Scaramouche has half a mind to facepalm himself, he thanks what shred of patience he has left that he doesn't because you give him a glance.

"Thank you for the offer, but I should really be heading home," you turn to him fully and take the plastic bags from him. "Thanks for... helping me."

He opens his mouth but before he can say anything, you give him a knowing nod before quickly walking away. He watches you walk a few paces before he hears his mom clear her throat. He looks to her, already scowling.

"Don't tell me you're just gonna let her go like that?"

"What do you want me to do?"

Ei sighs. "At least make sure she gets a ride? If you walked her all the way over here, I can guess you wanted to give her a ride home. But that's out of the question now."

"Why are you so invested in this anyway? I just met her today."

"Oh, really? I thought you already knew each other." Ei hums as she rummages her purse for the keys. "You look like a pair. Not quite sure what kind, but definitely a pair of something. I think she’s rather cute."

He curses silently before jogging to catch up to you. He finds you standing by the bus stop. When you turn to him, you smile.

"Thanks for helping me again."

"You know I was planning on dropping you off at your place, right? Thought that was kinda clear with what I said at the grocery."

"Nah. I'd bothered you enough. Don't wanna bother your sister either." you grin at him, shuffling from foot to foot again, now with a pep in your step.

"First off, that was my mom, not my sister." you repeat the word 'mom' silently before looking at him with barely suppressed admiration, and Scaramouche barely holds himself back from groaning. "Second, it's fine. You're not scared that guy's gonna follow you home?"

"I'll be in a bus full of people. If he tries anything I'll scream my head off." you laugh. Scaramouche can hear a shred of doubt in your voice, but he doesn't say anything else. There's a pause of silence before you look at him from the corner of your eye and hum. "Y'know. I don't know how to properly thank you."

He waves you off. "Forget about it."

"How about I treat you?" you turn to him fully, like he just didn't brush you off. "I know a cafe by the train station that makes really good matcha lattes."

"What makes you think I even like matcha?" he sighs, but he thinks about it for a second. And then another second. Scaramouche blinks before he turns to you with a deadpan face. "You're just trying to take advantage of my scary dog privilege or whatever you call it."

"Maybe? Who knows?"you grin mischievously. "I'm serious about treating you to a meal, though. I owe you one. If you want you can just take the meal and forget about ever seeing me again."

Scaramouche sighs. Surely, it wouldn't hurt...?

"Alright then. When's our date?" You blink at him in surprise before laughing.

When people ask him how you two got together, he says you treated him to matcha for saving your life and you just hit it off. When they ask you to confirm, you excitedly show a picture of the two of you in the cafe of your first date. Should anyone try to mention the foam of milk from the matcha latte gathered around the top of his lips or the cat ears you had graciously edited onto the top of his head, Scaramouche is quick to silence them with a murderous look, almost the very same one he has on in the picture.

Some might think why doesn’t he just ask you to stop showing the photo to people? It’s enough for you to confirm that you got together over drinks, end of story. But as he watches and listens to you recount how you met again, the smile on your lips and the laughter that slips past and the grin as you show all the pictures - he can’t imagine saying no.

Why would he make you stop when you’re so happy?

That’s what he thinks now, as he sees the frown on your face.

He thought people already understood. He let you tell the story over and over even though it got on his nerves time and time again because it made you happy, yes, but also so people saw who they were messing with if they ever even thought of messing with you. This city was a small one - if people didn’t know him from his mother, they surely have heard of him and his friends. This city was the kind where word travelled fast if you were even in any social circle. If not for that, they would have surely seen him walking around with you with all the places you wanted to see.

He underestimated how dumb people could be.

matcha | are you close? Scary Dog <3 | give me a couple of minutes. Just got out the bus matcha | ok | um not to pressure u | can you hurry | just a bit | sorry

Scaramouche rolled his eyes before frowning. He pocketed his phone and all but jogged to the park. From a distance, he could see two guys in front of the bench he was sure was where you were supposed to meet. It was the bench he and you stopped at to exchange numbers, so it became a place that meant a lot to you. When he was close, the group of guys looked at his direction, snickering, before heading to the next bench over. Finally, he has a perfect view of you, your head down, holding on to your drink and phone like a lifeline. His drink almost lay forgotten beside you.

He quickly grabbed the drink from your side and sat beside you. From the corner of his eye, he can see the group of guys stealing glances at the both of you, not even trying to hide their laughter and sneers. He’s gripping his drink almost as hard as you were.

“You’re here,” you smile at him, but as quickly as it’s on your face it drops back to a wobbly frown and you look away. “Sorry if I made you hurry, I-”

“What happened? Did they do anything to you?” his voice comes out in a rush but it’s soft, as comforting as he can muster with the situation at hand. He can feel his blood boiling, his senses on high alert.

“No, no, they were just being mean and annoying and I-” you shakily pocket your phone and hold on to his hand. He can feel you shaking and he grit his teeth.

“What did they do? What the fuck did they say?” he was gripping onto the cup so tight he would’ve been surprised that it hadn’t broken yet if he wasn’t so focused on you.

“Nothing important.” he squeezes your hand, not enough to hurt, but to make sure you know that he’s here now. You didn’t need to hide anything from him. You just need to tell him. You look up at him and purse your lips. “They just said-”

He hears laughter and immediately whips his head towards the two guys, feeling absolutely feral. The closest one sitting on the edge of the bench flinches for a second, before he meets his glare with a sneer.

“I was wondering what kind of parents would leave their little princess walking around alone like that,” the guy smirks and Scaramouche can feel you flinch under his touch. “But another kid just showed up to pick them up. Where are your parents, kiddies?”

The two guys laugh and Scaramouche can feel his teeth crack with how hard he was biting down. He stands up but you hold on to his hand.

“Just let it go. Let’s just get out of here.” you mumble to him, but the guys heard perfectly.

“Let’s just get out of here~” the other guy copies your voice, all high pitched and mocking and everything that Scaramouche knew you were very much not. “She dresses like a little princess and sounds like one. Aren’t you too old for that?”

They howl with laughter and slowly, Scaramouche feels you let go of him. He looks to you, concerned, but you meet his eyes, your face blank but he knows that look.

Go for it.

With quick strides he’s right beside their bench. They stop for a moment to look at him.

He looks at the matcha latte in his hand and sighs.

What a waste of a drink. You got it for him, too.

“What are you- ARGH!” Scaramouche shakes the cup empty of all it’s content, making sure that each of the guys’ heads had at least a bit of the matcha drink. But Scaramouche was sure he got them both - it was a large drink, after all.

“Pick on someone your own size, you lil’-” the man closest to him goes to stand, but just as he does, Scaramouche raises his own leg and drives a kick right on his knees.

*CRACK*

The man screams in pain, forced to his knees and tending to his newly acquired wound. The other guy stands to try and help, but his form quickly falters as Scaramouche takes one step towards him, eyes blazing. The man doesn’t move, too frightened, as Scaramouche leans down to the man on the ground.

“There you go. Now we’re the same height.”

Scaramouche feels a pull on the back of his shirt and he’s ready to throw his arm back to punch when he sees you. He lets you pull him and you make a break for it as he hears the man crying in pain behind him.

Trees turn to buildings around you both as you leave the park and head to the city center, stopping only when you’re sure the coast is clear. You both take in large breaths of air after running for so long, but even the silence does nothing to make him realize the gravity of what just happened. That’s not the case for you, though.

“Oh, God, I didn’t think you’d do that. The drink, yeah, but...” you say between breaths. You take a shaky laugh and rub the back of your neck. “Was the kick really necessary, though?”

Was that necessary? Scaramouche knew the answer for himself. He walks closer to you.

Why would he let anyone destroy whatever you two had going on? You came as a pair.

"Scara, what are you-" he stops in his tracks and looks you in the eyes. There's a pause before he lifts his hand and flicks your forehead.

"Talk smack, get whacked."

"I didn't even say anything! And why are you hitting me?!"

There’s a pause as he runs his teeth over his lower lip.

“Hey… you.”

“Wow, I thought by now you knew my name,” you sneer at him. “You telling me you still don’t know it?”

He inhales before he says your name softly. You gape at him, suddenly aware of how serious he’s gotten. “You’re happy with… yourself, right…?”

“Of course I am. That’s not even worth asking about,” there’s a doubtful look on your face, but not because of your answer. Your apprehension stems from where this conversation was going.

“Keep being happy, then.” Scaramouche rubs the knuckles of your hand with his thumb before pressing a kiss to your palm. He smirks at you. “If anyone else says otherwise, a drink over their head and broken kneecaps are the least of their concerns.”

“Now, come on,” he doesn’t let go of your hand and you make no mention of it. “We still gotta stop by Nahida’s, right?”

＝＝✿＝＝｜✧••❀••✧｜＝＝✿＝＝  

❀BONUS❀

“Your mom’s gonna kill us when she finds out what you did.”

“Nah. She’d be fine with it.” Scaramouche scoffs.

“Find out what?” Ei appears by the kitchen doorway and looks at you both expectantly. You turn to Scaramouche, eyes wide with fear, but he doesn’t flinch or even stop chopping the melon.

“I poured a drink over some guy who said Matcha was acting too much like a kid,” Scaramouche answers easily, passing you a melon slice. “Also might have broken their knee, but we didn’t get to see.”

“I’m really sorry, Ms. Ei-”

“That’s it?” Ei leans on the kitchen counter and to your surprise, looks at Scaramouche with disappointment. “You should’ve broken a bone or two more.”

You blink as they continue talking about how best to have handled the situation; all their solutions involved hurting someone.

Well, you guess Scaramouche must have had to got it from someone in the family.

✨ Masterlist ✨

Taglist: 💛@wonpielle 💜@shikanosn

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

[theaudacitytowrite]

I just called to say...

Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: I think this fic shows my current state of mind quite well... so I think you guys get why I'm not able to write the fluffy fics that were supposed to be written months ago. I hope you can enjoy this one at least

Warnings: blood, injuries, character death (it's spn, duh!), hurt with no comfort

word count: 2.124

Dean groaned when he was shaken out of his slumber as his phone vibrated somewhere next to him. He tapped around his nightstand annoyed as he tried to find the pesky device and turn it off. Whoever called could wait for him to get up in the morning. He peeked onto the display, blinking against the harsh display light as he was about to decline the call when he saw your face lighting up the screen.

You had walked over Dean’s path earlier that day. You were out on a hunt with a fellow hunter and the three of you caught up over lunch. Dean had needed a motel to stay over for a night since he was on the drive back to the bunker after a successful hunt further down south so you showed him the motel you were staying at before parting ways again.

Dean wondered why you'd call at this time and sighed deeply, answering the phone.

“It’s 3 in the morning. What is it Y/N?” he asked groggily. His voice sounded hoarse, rough, and tired but his demeanour quickly changed to worry when he heard your laboured breaths that you forced yourself to take.

“D-Dean...” your voice was only above a whisper as you replied shakily. But there was also relief. Relief that Dean had picked up. You had worried that he wouldn’t hear his phone since it took him a few rings before he had answered. When he answered with his hoarse voice and his usual sassy remark, you had to smile softly, your eyes closing as a tear ran down your cheek “...I ...I fucked up.” you wheezed strained.  

Suddenly all his usual snarkiness was nowhere to be heard; he was in his serious, caring, concerned mode now.

“What do you mean?" Dean asked confused, “Where are you?”

Your breaths were ragged, and Dean could tell that you were holding back tears and wails of pain.  

“...Randy and I-I,” you stammered, swallowing hard as you tried to hold yourself together, “We were... we went out to the woods.” you coughed and it sounded like you were choking, “It was an ambush.” you managed to press out, “Randy's... he didn't make it and as it looks like... I won't make it either.” you breathed out.

In an instant Dean had jumped out of bed, starting to dress himself hurriedly.

“I’ll come and get you.” Dean responded curtly, almost hanging up.

“No! Wait.” you croaked, “Don’t… don’t hang up. I... I don't wanna die alone.” 

“You’re not dying, Y/N!” Dean harshly responded but cooled down immediately as he took a deep breath. “Okay.” his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again, “I’ll stay on the phone with you but you’re not going to die. And you gotta tell me where you are.” Dean tried to stay calm for your sake as he hurried out to Baby. 

“Somewhere in the woods... maybe ten minutes from the motel.” you breathed heavily.

“I’m coming to you, Y/N. Hold on.” Dean uttered collected.

“Dean...” you sobbed, “...can you do something for me?”

“...yeah. What do you need?” Dean tried to keep his emotions at bay. He didn’t like the sound of your voice. It was getting quieter with each time you spoke. He didn’t waste another second and drove off towards the woods you and Randy had told about him earlier. 

“Tell Bobby...” you hiccupped, “Tell Bobby he was right. I'm an idiot.” you chuckled somberly. “And... tell Sam and Cas that I'm sorry... and I love all three of them.” you sniffled. 

“You can tell them this yourself.” Dean insisted. He felt his emotions start to build up as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

“Please.” you breathed shakily. ”Just promise me.”

Dean’s words were no longer above a whisper as he croaked. “I'll tell them.”

“Thank you... *you huffed heavily, trying to keep your breath steady as you lay on the cold forest ground, the knife in your chest hurting so damn much with every breath you took.

“Do you... do you remember that Summer in 1995?” you suddenly whispered into the phone.

“...Yeah?” Dean hummed as memories flooded his brain. He had no idea of where this was going but he was still curious and waiting for your next words.

“How we went to the beach that one night and sat eating smores till sunrise?” you chuckled, tears running down your cheeks. “We watched the stars...” you trail off. 

“...Yeah, I do remember that night.” Dean wasn't saying much because he didn't want to interrupt you, so he was mostly quietly listening and waiting for more. He wanted to keep you talking so he knew that you were still with him.

“I knew it then.” you sobbed cryptically, the rigid movement hurting you even more. “But I never said anything...” you gulp, “But I have to say something before... before I go…”

Dean swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and was struggling to keep his voice steady when he spoke. “And what is that?”

 “I love you, Dean.” you breathed through the speaker, “I always have.” you sniffled, “And I'm sorry for telling you this now... but you know me. I always had bad timing.” you chuckle bitterly.

Dean swallowed hard as your words sank in. A flood of emotions filled his head like a wave from the ocean crashing to the shore. He was so speechless that he could barely respond “...yeah, y-you always had bad timing.” He finally answered though it was really just to have something to say.

You chuckled sadly and closed your eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your breath became shallower with every breath and your voice started to fade out as you slowly began to slip in and out of conscience.

“D-Don't you dare leave me...” Dean uttered huskily. He grew more panicked with each passing second. He was scared and desperate. “D-Don't leave me...” He repeated, his voice growing more strained with each word. 

“Ok.” you sobbed weakly, knowing you couldn't do anything against it no matter how hard you tried. You felt your energy draining more and more as you began to shiver. 

“...where are you, Dean?” you asked almost inaudible when Dean’s line grew silent. You needed to hear his voice just for a moment longer. 

“I... I'm here...” Dean whispered back. His voice was shaky, unsteady, and heavy with pain as tears continued to stream down his cheeks. “You... you're not alone. Okay?” he repeated his earlier words almost in a begging tone.

“Thank you...” you whispered, slowly losing strength to hold up your phone to your ear. 

“You're welcome...” There was a long pause after that, and Dean was trying to stay calm for you but you could still hear him struggling to hold back more tears. “Hold on... Okay?” you could hear his voice break with another sob. 

“I... I don’t think I can that long anymore...” you croaked when you suddenly heard the faint sound of an engine and some lights started to creep up the hill. Dean perked up as he heard the noise of Baby reverb from your side of the line and his eyes widened. He suddenly sounded incredibly desperate, and his voice was pleading. “Come on, come on... Come on, come on. Please...” he was still speaking softly so as not to alarm you, but he was trying to be encouraging, hoping you'd hold on long enough to see him.

“Dean?” you asked almost elated, “Is... is that you?” you sobbed, “Or am I hallucinating?” 

“No, you're not hallucinating.” Dean's voice was surer and clearer when he spoke again, though the heavy emotion in his voice was still clearly present. “It's me, it's me. You're gonna be okay.” his voice was still quiet so as not to startle you, but a little louder than before.

You started sobbing audibly, a mix of hope, longing and desperation mixing as you heard Baby approach. It took an eternity until you heard her come to a halt and the doors opened and closed. You heard hurried steps rustling through the leaves and Dean’s voice calling out for you in the distance and over your phone.

“H-here...” you croaked as loud as you could, but it was still only a whisper.

Dean heard you and your words filled him with a rush of emotions. The tears still streamed down his cheeks as he ran around the trees following the sound of your voice. He got closer and closer until he reached you, kneeling by your side as he looked down at you. 

“Y/N.... Y/N...” the flood of feelings almost made his words unintelligible.

Dean saw the state you were in and it frightened him. Your skin was pale and dull, your lips chapped and your eyes half-lidded. You were covered in bruises and cuts, blood everywhere. You were cold to the touch aside from the bloody patch where a hunter knife stuck in your abdomen. 

“Dean...” you breathed out, barely able to focus your eyes on him but his touch was so familiar and soothing.

“Y/N...” Dean took your hand and squeezed it firmly, “Y/N...” he repeated, and his voice grew stronger and louder. “...don't go... please...” you could sense the desperation in his words, as well as the pain and anguish that was breaking out as Dean was desperately trying not to cry.

“I'm... I'm trying...” you huffed heavily, fighting against your eyes closing. “How did you find me?” you croaked out weakly. 

Dean swallowed a few times as the words struggled to come out of his mouth. “It... it doesn't matter... don't matter.” There was a long pause before he spoke again “Just...” another long pause and his tears kept falling, “...just hold on... okay?” He sniffled as he tried to come up with a plan of how to get you out of here and into the ER.

“Dean...” you weakly squeezed his hand, trying to get his attention back to you. 

“Y-yes?” he quivered, pulling your hand up to his cheek.

“It’s going to be alright,” you whispered almost inaudible. 

Dean felt his emotions break as he felt your soft hand on his cheek. A lump grew in his throat yet again as he fought back tears. There was another long pause before he spoke again. 

“It won’t... will it?” he whispered strained, his voice breaking slightly with the last word. You smiled bleakly, knowing he was right. 

“I love you...” you simply responded, your eyes starting to flutter.

You could hear his voice getting even more filled with distress as he couldn't hold the tears back anymore. “I... I love you, too...” he continued, not wanting to waste the last few moments you had before leaving this world. “I love you, Y/N... too...” he whispered as he squeezed your hand again, softly kissing the back of your hand. He hoped that you could still hear him and feel his love as your eyes had closed. For a moment a soft smile appeared on your lips before your face relaxed.

Dean felt a deep sense of guilt when he saw your relaxed expression. The tears still fell as he was struggling to hold your hand steady. “Don't go...” he repeated over and over again. He fell apart when your hand squeezed his faintly once more. He leaned over your body, softly pressing a kiss against your forehead. He could taste the dried blood mix with his tears.

Dean took in your last squeeze and he stayed next to you, his hand still holding yours for a while after he felt there was no more movement in your hand. He was still crying, too devastated to say anything else.

As he started to pull himself together, his voice had become hoarse. It was weak and barely above a whisper. “...Y/N...” Another long pause spread as he took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. “...Y/N, you ain't ever gonna believe this.”

He took a moment to gather himself again. He took in a shaky breath and continued, hoping that the last of your consciousness could hear his words in the afterlife at least. “...Y/N, I always knew that you were an idiot,” he said with the barest touch of humour as he smiled through his tears. He took a moment and then spoke again. “...but... you've always been my idiot.” His breath grew shaky again and his eyes were filled with more tears, but the smile was still there as he spoke. Another tear fell from his eyes as he forced himself to chuckle through his sadness as he sat there with you until the sun began to rise.

Sooo... what do y'all say? Hope it wasn't too bad for a first Dean Fic.

Taglist: @hellowgoodbye @tommie-gvf @loz-3

Divider by @talesmaniac89

You can also read it on my [AO3]

[jadewolf22]

Hola! First of all, just want to say that your Lady Jane fic was AMAZING!!! You captured her perfectly and your writing is just *CHEF'S KISS*

Second of all, I have a fic request for you if you're up to it. Larissa and reader are having a date night at a local bar when Larissa's ex walks in and she starts acting weird. The three get into an altercation (reader has no clye the guy is Larissa's ex) and when Reader and Riss get home they get into a argument bc Larissa wont tell reader what the altercation was about. Eventually, Riss caves in and reader goes full protective girlfriend mode (I'll let you decide exactly how)

Can't wait to see what you do with this promt!!😁😚

Her Guard Dog

Larissa x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, fighting (verbal&physical), mentions of abusive ex’s, descriptions of abuse, death threats, threats of bodily harm, slapping & choking (in a non-sexual way), talk of going to jail, ect…

Summary: What started out as a simple date night quickly goes south when Larissa runs into an ex who isn’t fond of seeing her with someone else.

A/n: Hola, anon! Thank you for the request, it’s right up my alley of writing. And thank you for the creative liberty with deciding how reader was going to be the protective girlfriend, I had way too much fun with it. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2,461

The bar was warm and crowded when you and Larissa had arrived and the atmosphere hadn’t changed since. Not that either of you would have noticed, you were both too engrossed in each other to be paying any mind to what was happening around you. Even after a year of dating, the two of you still looked at each other like it was a love-at-first-sight situation even though you’d met through work. With Larissa being the principal of Nevermore and you being on the school board your schedules had overlapped quite a bit and you two had hit it off pretty quickly. Since then, these little dates had become a weekly occurrence, a chance to abandon work and bask in each other's company over a drink at a local bar your friend owned. The two of you were laughing over a childhood story you’d told when Larissa glanced towards the door, her smile falling and her laugh dying in her throat as she caught sight of a man standing in the doorway. 

“Everything alright?” you asked, following her gaze, but the man had moved on so you didn’t see him.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I’m fine.” Larissa said dismissively, turning back to you, “Just tired, I suppose. Can we go home?”

“Yeah, sure.” you agreed, watching her closely, fully aware that she was lying to you, “Why don’t you go out to the car and I’ll pay the bill then meet you out there?”

“Don’t take too long.”

You watched Larissa walk out the door before turning to try and grab your friend's attention so you could pay the bill, missing the man from before following Larissa outside. Your friend had just handed you your check when your phone pinged, the check temporarily forgotten when you saw the text from Larissa:

Riss: S.O.S

“Hey, Isabelle,” you called to your friend, ice flooding your veins, “Can you put this on my tab and I’ll pay you tomorrow? I’ve gotta go, right now.”

“Yeah, no problem.” your friend nodded as you gathered up your phone and purse.

“Thanks, Isa!!” you shouted rushing out of the bar towards your car. 

Rushing to your car, fear flooded you at the sight of Larissa arguing with the man from before. You didn’t recognise him but there was time to worry about who he was later, anger quickly replacing your fear as you watched the man grab Riss by her arm, seeming to try and drag her away.

“Hey!” you cried as you approached, pushing the man away and getting between the two, “Get out of here! Riss, get in the car.”

The man simply chuckled, brushing off his suit and slicking back his hair with a sneer. “Listen to your guard dog, Rissy.” he taunted.

“Get the hell out of here!” you growled, turning your head towards Larissa as you whispered, “Please, get in the car.” 

Larissa nodded, quickly climbing into your car as you turned back to the man, suddenly overcome with the urge to slap that stupid sneer off his face. He eyed you up and down, studying you closely as if sizing you up as a threat. 

“I’m only gonna say it one more time,” you warned, reaching into the pocket of your jeans for your switchblade, “Get. The hell. Out of here.”

The man chuckled and shrugged, calling, “See ya around, Larissa!” before heading off down the street. 

You sighed, making sure the man was well out of sight before you climbed in the car. You sat there a moment, rubbing your hand over your face and nipping at your fingers as you tried to calm down, anger and disgust still ebbing away at you.

“Y/n…”

“We can talk about this when we get home,” you growled despite your best attempts to keep your voice gentle, starting up the car and driving off without another word. 

The drive back to Nevermore was uncomfortably silent as you tried to process what the hell had just happened. You didn’t know who that man was but, clearly, he knew Larissa, and that scared you. You had the feeling he wasn’t going to leave her alone anytime soon but how could you prevent that when you didn’t even know who the little fucker was? And you knew getting Riss to tell you anything was going to be like pulling teeth. 

When the two of you returned to Nevermore you headed straight up to Larissa’s private quarters, the door barely closing before you started asking questions.

“Okay Larissa, what the hell was that about?!” you asked, fighting to keep your voice calm and already losing. The sight of him putting his hands on her had already made you near-murderous, “Who was that?!”

“I—No one�� It’s nothing—” Larissa stuttered quietly, looking down at the floor as she paced and wrung her hands together nervously.

“Larissa, don’t lie to me. That was not nothing. Who. Was. He?” 

“N-no one—”

“Goddamnit, Larissa! Don’t try and pull that bullshit on me!” you shouted, slamming your hand against the wall and immediately regretting it when Larissa flinched. She clung to herself, toying with the collar of her dress as she fought to breathe, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

“Riss, I’m so sorry.” you whispered gently, slowly coming forward so you wouldn’t startle her, resting your hands on her arms and looking up into her eyes, “I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have yelled. I want to help you, but I can’t do that when you shut me out…”

“I d-don’t want you to g-get in-involved…” she whimpered, her body shaking as tears began to slide down her cheeks.

Guiding her to sit on the foot of the bed, you hugged Larissa close, rubbing her back and speaking to her softly, “I’m gonna get involved, Riss, whether you want me to or not. My job is to protect you, and I can’t do that if I don’t know who’s hurting you… Please, tell me who that was.”

“J-James…” Larissa sodded, clinging to you tightly.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, the name setting of several alarms in your head. “James? As in, James Hacker? As in, your abusive fiance? That James?”

Riss nodded frantically, choking out, “H-he’s been f-following me… I-I didn’y say anything because I-I didn’t know wh-what to do… I was s-so scared…”

“Shh. Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” you consoled, continuing to rub her back, “The only thing you need to do right now is take a shower and get ready for bed. I’m gonna run out, but I’ll be back in an hour.” 

“Wh-where are you going?” Larissa asked as you stood up and threw on your jacket, trading your heeled boots for a pair of tennis shoes. 

“I’m gonna go have a talk with James.” 

“No!” Larissa cried, grabbing your wrist tightly, “Y-you can’t!! He’ll hurt you!”

“Larissa. It’s okay.” you assured, gently prying her hands off of your wrist, “I can take care of myself. I’m just gonna go over and have a little chat with him. I’ll be back soon.”

“Please, don’t.” she begged, clearly terrified.

“Larissa…” a part of you wanted to cave in and stay with her, to make sure no one else could hurt her. But another, much stronger part of you wanted to ensure that James never came near Riss again, and you wanted to get it over with while your anger was still fresh, “I need to make sure that James stays away from you. I’m not gonna wait if there’s a chance he might actually hurt you. I don’t wanna think about what he might’ve done to you if I hadn’t come outside when I did… I promise I’ll be safe.” 

“...Okay…” Larissa whispered, letting go of you, “Just… don’t be gone long.”

“Like I said,” you kissed her cheek, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “I won’t be gone more than an hour.”

Larissa nodded, watching you go sadly. You patted your blade as you climbed back into your car, driving off practically on autopilot as your mind reeled with thoughts of how you were going to get James to leave Riss alone. She’d told you about him pretty early into your relationship but had only recently told you just how awful and vile he truly was. He’d beaten her constantly for anything from making a suggestion after he’d been clear on plans to simply feeling like it, he would drug her drinks and then have his way with her for hours, made her cut off all contact with her friends and family, even went so far as trying to get her to resign at Nevermore and become a housewife. That was when Larissa had finally called things off. She’d packed her bags and left while he was at work, cutting off all contact with him and never looking back. You were proud of Riss for being able to remove herself from him, but you would never be able to let go of the pure hatred you held towards James. He had scarred Larissa, possibly for life, and now, almost two years later, you were finally getting the chance to pay him back.

Having started stalking James after Larissa had initially told you about him, you knew exactly where he lived, finding yourself pulling into his driveway twenty minutes later. The house was secluded and you knew he lived alone so, the only witnesses you would have to worry about was a potential one-night-stand. Climbing the steps onto the porch you banged your fist harshly against the door, possibly hard enough to leave bruises in the morning—though, you were almost certain those wouldn’t be the only ones on yours hands you’d have by the end of the night.

After a minute or so, James finally came to the door, leaning up against the frame in nothing but a half-unbuttoned dress shirt and his boxers, sneering down at you like prey caught in a monster’s paws.

“I can’t believe this,” he chuckled, running and hand through his greasy hair, “She actually sent her guard dog on me.”

“I am not her guard dog.” you growled. Sure, you might have been half a foot shorter than him, but you could be far more intimidating then he would ever be. “But I am here to make sure you leave Larissa alone.”

“What are you gonna do, little dog?” James taunted, smirking when the muscles in your face twitched angrily at the name, “I’m sure you’re all bark, not bite.”

“For your sake, let’s hope you don’t have to find out.” you threatened, “Let me make this clear, the next time I find out you’re following her I’ll gouge out your eyes. You ever try to touch her again, and I will bury you. Nevermore has plenty of acres of land… they’ll never find your body.”

“You’re actually willing to go to prison for that bitch… She’s not worth it—”

Your body reacted of its own accord, his head reeling back as you struck him across the face.

“Do not underestimate the things I would do for her,” you growled, ignoring the way your palm stung from the slap, “Prison is a small price to pay to make sure you never lay hands on her again.”

“But, if you’re in prison, who’s going to stop someone else from putting their hands on her?” he taunted, massaging his cheek, “Bitches like Larissa are so easy to get.”

You slapped him again, grabbing his throat and pushing him up against the door, your voice murderous as you hissed through gritted teeth, “Call her that. One. More Time. And I will make sure you never speak again… You are going to leave Larissa alone. Am I clear?!” James nodded, eyes going wide as his face slowly started turning purple, “I swear to you, if I ever see you anywhere near her again it will be the last time you’re ever seen… Do we have a deal?”

He nodded again slowly and you released your grip on his neck, back up a few steps before giving him a honeyed smile and saying, “Good. Have a good rest of your night, Mr. Hacker.”

With one last warning glance his way, you turned on your heel and walked back to your car, a sense of ease over taking you despite the possible repercussions you could face if James decided to call the police. A large part of you doubted he would, for fear of his own life, and that alone made you smile a little. You were proud of yourself for restraining the urge to kill him on sight, knowing that Larissa would appreciate it, despite how much she hated him. 

Returning to Larissa’s apartment, you were a little unhappy to find her still awake, hoping to be able to bandage your hands and get a few hours of rest before she started asking questions. Nevertheless, you offered her a small smile as you shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your shoes, changing in the bathroom and wrapping your hands before joining her in bed.

“We don’t have to worry about James anymore.” you assured as Riss tucked herself against you.

“What did you do?” she asked, looking up at you with worried eyes, “Is he still—?”

“Yes, he’s still alive.” you promised, “But, let’s just say… I made it clear that he won;t be for much longer if he doesn’t leave you alone…”

“Y/n! If he reports this, you could go to prison!” Riss gasped, her hands tightening their grip on your shirt.

“He won’t.” you were probably being a little overconfident, but that was what was best for Larissa at the moment, “James is smart. He knows what’s good for him.”

“What exactly did you do?”

“Just roughed him up a bit and told him to stay away or they’d never find his body.” you answered honestly, becoming a little worried when Riss went silent. 

“I… thank you.” she finally whispered, burying her face in your chest. You could feel tears beginning to wet your shirt, wrapping your arms around her like a protective cage, “As much as I hate how you went about it, thank you…”

“You’re welcome, Riss.” you kissed her head, shutting off the lights with a flick of your wrists, “As long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you. Okay?”

Larissa nodded, sighing softly as exhaustion took hold of her and she fell asleep in your arms.

[darlingsfandom]

hii idk if u write dark fics but could you do a yandere!emmett where he kidnaps the reader, you don’t have to write it if it makes u uncomfortable!!

hi!! I've never wrote dark fics before but hey! First time for everything right! Also thank you for asking ✨

WARNINGS: kidnapping, fingering, slight breeding kink! Swearing ...

No, it wasn't Emmett's fault. It couldn't have been his fault that you were alone. You were alone in your room at least you had thought. Emmett wasn't really anything to you, just another guy in the village. He was older than you by a good twenty maybe even thirty years, but you can't lie his eyes were a very pretty shade of blue and the scruff wasn't too bad but he's just another guy.

Emmett had wanted you since the day you were found out in the woods. Lee had found you alone and scared but brought you to the village and helped you get on your feet. Emmett watched your every move since then. It wasn't creepy too him because if you didn't know how he watched you when you went to bed or how you'd cook dinner for one, it's not creepy just merely observing his favorite person.

You were laid out on your bed flipping through some magazine about the hottest new Hollywood couple when the sound of foot steps perked you up. You set the magazine down and then the steps stopped. Your fingers wrapped around the bat you had next to your bed before you got up and slowly approached your bedroom door. With a quick open you jumped back and swung the bat only to realize you were swinging at nothing. You rubbed your forehead with your freehand. "For fucks sake!" You whispered yelled to yourself making yourself try to calm down again but because you let your guard down Emmett took his chance. His leather gloved hand wrapped around your mouth and the other around your waist. Your body instantly went into fight mode, your legs trying to kick and arms trying to flee, but they couldn't. Emmett might be older than you but he's sure as hell a lot stronger.

"Shh!" He whispered into your ear before biting down onto the lobe. Emmett used his strength to drag you down the hallway, out the back door and into his old pickup truck. He made sure to keep everything neat as possible just in case anyone decided they'd stop to see you. You should've ran when he had you the truck but you didn't know Emmett like that. He was crazy enough to kidnap you from your own home, he could kill you right there. Emmett got his truck going and drove in silence as you sat there with your hands tied poorly in some old rope.

Your eyes stung from the tears as Emmett pulled into the dark part of the woods. "Oh my god!" You whispered to yourself as he circled the truck, yanked you out by your arm and dragged you through the wet ground until you were shoved inside a little shack. "Please don't kill me!" You blurted out as he pulled the string on the light.

"Kill ya? Why on earth would I kill ya? You've seen too many movies my dear. I'm not gonna kill ya." He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head before pulling out the pocket knife , cut the rope and tossed it aside before shoving you into the work bench. "I would never kill ya. Ya might be pretty but ya sure are stupid to think I'd hurt ya doll. Ya see, yer ma girl and I'd never let anyone hurt you so that's why I had to bring ya here. Gotta protect ya!" Emmetts beard tickled against your cheek when he leaned in and kissed you. It took you by surprise and as much as you wanted to push him off and run, your legs wouldn't let you. Emmett's hands ran over your hips before yanking down your pajama shorts. A small gasp left your lips as the cool breeze blew across your wet spot on your panties.

Emmett had the pocket knife in his hand as he held it against your throat. "Now I know ya ain't the brightest star baby , but please don't try anything stupid. I'd had for ya to get hurt. Just let me do what I want to ya because yer mine ! And I will play with ya however I please." The blade ran across your pressure point, down between your breasts, over your stomach and finally ripped open your panties.

"So wet already. It shouldn't turn ya on that I've kidnapped ya and am holding your life in my hands and wet yer soaked." He teased you as his index finger toyed over your folds slowly while his lips attached to the pressure points on your neck biting gently until you snapped back into reality when he pulled away and the feeling of his fingers thrusting in and out of you going faster with each second made your knees buckle while your hands gripped the work bench behind you. Emmett licked over the bite as he pumped his fingers harder. "What a freak you are sweetheart! Getting off on my fingers . " He couldn't handle it anymore and yanked his fingers out leaving a you feeling empty but only for a few seconds because once reality washed over you again that you were in fact getting fucked by your kidnapper, Emmett was already thrusting his fat cock into your tight pussy.

"Ya got a tight little pussy baby! It's mine!" He growled into your ear while snapping his hips into yours harder and harder. "Ya wanted this! Ya NEEDED this! Needed me to take care of ya. No one was ever satisfying enough for ya! " tears streamed down your face as Emmett took no mercy on you.

"Don't ya dare cry baby! Yer already so wet and your thighs are shaking! Can't believe yer going to cum because ya getting fucked by yer kidnapper and lover! So fucked up! Ya dirty slut! My! DIRTY! SLUT!" With each snap Emmett got closer to his own orgasm making you cry harder until the own feeling in your belly fired up.

"That's it pretty baby, cum on my cock while I fill you up and knock ya up! Look so good carrying my baby in ya belly!" His eyes rolled back into his head as he filled you to the brim with his cum which made your own orgasm hit you hard. You cried loudly while dragging your nails down his back.

"Aww see baby, ya really were meant to be mine and only mine." Emmett smirked down at you before giving the most loving kiss you've ever felt.

[mortuarywriting]

If I outline what the fuck i wanna see in my self indulgent au will it give me the kick in the ass to write it.

Obviously relative spoiler/high notes/plot points below

The premise is, so far, nobody has seen where Simon lives. As far as they- they being Gaz, Soap, and Price- know he has a flat in Manchester.

Well leaving base one night(ish, time negotiable), the road they were all taking in their separate vehicles is closed due to a nasty accident. Gonna be blocked for 24 hours kinda mess.

So Ghost offers to let them all stay at his place, if only for a bit or the night if they prefer

Everyone just kinda. Well this isn't what we were expecting but alright. So they follow his car, it's pissing down rain and you can't see shit before you but the tail lights you're following but they've committed and by the time they pull off the road they're fuckin nowhere. House is fairly isolated, separate garage building, coop in the backyard, and a thatch roof cottage. Whose Nan's attic is Simon living in???

Except, not a random old biddie. Just a random fat American?? It's obvious they're familiar enough with each other, giving each other shit and that there's a whole "you got back from a mission here is our you came home routine"

Whole mess. The group stays the night because now they're nosy and wanna find out what the relationship is. You both say roommates. They don't wholly believe that.

Simon and roomie sleep downstairs, he can't sleep in a bed yet after the mission and roomie makes sure there's enough background noise that he doesn't snap into combat mode everything is about to go to shit.

Next morning roomie and Simon team up to make a hodge podge of all kinds of breakfast food and between them all there are no leftovers. Concerns are had if everyone ate enough (and then biscuits and gravy settled).

Its back to routine and roomie goes out to grocery shop to stock back up on "i need to feed myself and a whole ass army dude" levels of food and snackies.

While Simon is trying to get Soap and Gaz to stop making excuses to stick around (all good-natured fun) there is a call. Roomie prefaces this with they're fine!!! But uh. They did get hit by a car. A bit. Enough that there has to be a report. Come get the groceries?

And this is the part where they find out Simon and roomie are married. Have been for y e a r s. Technically the town knows them under roomie's last name as a couple.

After the dust is settled and everyone is back at the cottage the explaining happens. Yes, they're married. Vegas happened. It's been a long time and they kinda glossed over the whole "he's a dead man" legal bit for it. Roomie still gets married rights. How do you think he has a lease as a dead man roomie legitimately wants to know. The cottage is in their name, his isn't on it to keep it all off the record if people come knocking for him.

(He does actually have a Manchester flat, though. Landlord takes cash payments however many months at a time and doesn't ask questions. Roomie gets mail from it every once in a blue moon.)

Relationship is largely "we're married but for tax benefits"esque because they're both some flavor of ace. If he's in town roomie checks on if he wants to go to the Saturday munches or not but that's sir not appearing in this fic.

But yeah. Just fun self indulgence.

Could go write the Vegas bit. Write work "being brought home". Bonding activities. List of things for when he retires. Potentially kidnapping. S o many fun options but I just. Gotta write it.

[crushedsweets]

SUCKER suckerrrr snap out of it by arctic monkeys is sooo ninakate suckerr trust

i'm so ill. my hands shake and crack as i imagine ninakate living out their life. give me a moment to process. as per usual, im writing this as if i was planning out a one-shot song-fic.

someone remind me to do this with kill the director eventually

ok to begin. the song is from kates perspective to nina.. im imagining its after theyve had their weird little 'meaningless' kisses. IN THIS STORY, SHE KINDA LINGERS BACK TO JEFF ON AND OFF... also this is mostly sad theres barely a good ending im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry

nina is well integrated into the kate, clocky, toby, EJ friend group by this point. but every time she spends a few weeks trying to "work things out" with jeff, she's completely off in her own world. she withdraws from her friends, half cuz she's so focused on 'fixing' the doomed relationship and half cuz she's so embarrassed that she keeps going back and i think that shit is SOUL CRUSHING to kate. she hasn't had feelings for someone since . . . lauren . . . and she finally gets fragments of romance again, only for nina to constantly wander off after leading her on. also heavy on the 'fell in love, or near enough' cuz what nina and jeff has is not love 'i gotta tell you the truth' its eating kate alive. she doesnt really talk emotions and she never tells people what to do, but she just wants to scream bro.

i think toby, clocky, and ej have already exhausted themselves telling nina to give it up. EJ has tried gentle pieces of advice, clocky has bickered back and forth, and toby has outright screamed at nina to STOP GOING BACK TO HIM. and none of it did anything. but kate doesnt tell people what to do. the most she would do is raise a brow at nina and sigh and shake her head. i think this would eventually be a good bonding moment for kate and toby, where she confides in him about feeling like she missed her shot. toby tells her that she's never gonna 'miss her shot' ... especially w a girl as messy as nina...cuz evidently jeff did all that and still didnt miss HIS shot. LMFAO... but he'd encourage kate to get her shit together and just talk to nina about it. and for some reason nobody listens to tobys damn advice so kate just sits and waits.

ok this is just very straightforward. kate is constantly mulling over it and pissed and sad and bummed out. (oddly enough, tobys relieved to see her stressing over crushes instead of like.... being torn apart from the inside by a cryptic entity)

'it sounds like settling' down or givin' up, but it don't sound much like you, girl' OK i think this line works for kate AND nina.

toby would be saying something like this to kate. its kind of warped, cuz i think when kates in the chaser mode, she does not give up. she is persistent and she attacks with a goal. he's watched the chaser run to the brink of exhaustion, to the point where kate was bed ridden afterwards. SO WHY WOULD SHE GIVE UP ON SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS A GIRL ?!?!?!

and in turn, kate would be thinking this towards nina. settling down doesnt seem like nina. giving up is also not like nina cuz she is also quite persistent until feelings fade... which frustrates kate cuz she gets stuck in this loop of 'even if she were to leave jeff, why would she settle for me? why would she stay with me? there's no point in getting deeper into this'

kate would eventually have to snap, as stories go. grabbing nina and confessing, going on about how fucking dumb nina is being. honestly, kate would probably accidentally choke out things she heard from EJ, clocky, and toby all scolding nina... which would either upset nina, or feel like a full circle moment where FINALLYYYYY all the shit that she's been told all this time has come together. and finally she can be like oh.... this is really embarrassing for me...... also oh my god wait

the idea of kate writing nina a letter. oh my god. wait. GUSY WAIT FUCK KATE WRITING NINA A LETTER WAIT FUCK FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK KATE WRITES HER A LETTER THATS CANON NOW IM SORRY IM SORRY IMSORRY

[stvlti]

love is the knife in your hand | a Dune fanmix

I finally put all my songs for FeydPaul (derogatory) onto a playlist. This started out as a shitpost which may explain some of the wack song choices. All bangers though, promise

► TRACKS

01. Gimme What I Want - Miley Cyrus /// 02. SIMP - Full Tac, Lil Mariko & Rico Nasty /// 03. Dictator - REI AMI /// 04. I Can See You - Taylor Swift /// 05. Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode /// 06. Burn the Witch - PVRIS, Tommy Genesis & Alice Longyu Gao /// 07. House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls - The Weeknd /// 08. ecstacy - SUICIDAL-IDOL /// 09. Tennessee - Kevin Abstract & Lil Nas X /// 10. Matador - Luvcat /// 11. I Come With Knives (Acoustic) - IAMX /// 12. Bells in Santa Fe - Halsey /// 13. Blood in the Cut - K.Flay /// 14. Kiss With A Fist - Florence + The Machine /// 15. Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey.

Tracklist last updated on 15 July.

► META

I wasn't going to add a write-up to this one – it was supposed to be an ironic playlist – but then I couldn't resist coming back to add better and better song choices to the tracklist. It deserves a short explanation now, at the very least.

The tl;dr of it is that I was inspired by this fic and this fic and this fic. The different interpretations and dynamics of Feyd/Paul's relationship shown in those fics form the cornerstones for the relationships portrayed in these songs.

Some of these dynamics may seem contradictory to each other. That is by design. Many of the songs in this playlist are meant to go both ways: depending on your interpretation of Feyd's character and your specific flavour of canon divergence (which lbr is where 90% of FeydPaul scenarios play out), you could justifiably swap the dominant / submissive voices in the song lyrics between Feyd and Paul. Take "Dictator" by REI AMI for example:

The front part of the song is dominated by, well, a dominant persona:

I am not your queen, I'm your dictator

Bend the fucking knee, yeah bitch that was an order

Whatcha say to me? Huh? Bitch speak louder

You know I reign supreme, nah, you can't imitate her

The song takes a 180° turn in the back half, switching up the beat, the tempo, the instrumentation, the cadence; going from rap verses to singing; and going from braggadocio to a vulnerable confession in its lyrics. This forms, for all intents and purposes, a second distinct "voice":

You're so mean I'm scared to say "I wanna leave"

Cause every time I try, I get a tighter leash

You never know

Everything I do when I'm feeling low

Always about you, that's the way it goes

The way it goes, just the way it goes

Cold, why you gotta treat me so cold?

You say you love me but I don't know, don't know

The original song intends for both voices to reflect 2 sides of the same speaker, which could also work in the case of Paul (the first voice being the strongman leader he presents himself as in front of his followers, but also the dom persona he takes on to exploit Feyd's vulnerabilities in the bedroom; the second voice being the insecurities he has in his feelings for Feyd, which he can admit only to himself). But these 2 voices also work well as a dialogue between Paul and Feyd: Paul as the dominant voice and Feyd as the submissive, plaintive one, in a Feyd Lives AU / any AU where Paul holds all the bargaining chips; or Feyd as the dominant voice and Paul as the submissive, confessional one, in a Feyd wins the duel / Paul is captured by the Harkonnens AU. Ymmv.

There are a few songs where it only fits a specific interpretation of the dynamic though. The more fics I read, the more I think about the political positioning either of the boys take up in canon, the more obvious it is that any way you slice it, Feyd is at a disadvantage. He doesn't have Paul's prescience or the Voice, among other Bene Gesserit training, to say nothing about his Mentat abilities. (This is excluding the AUs that assume Feyd, being another prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach bloodline, has some level of prescient abilities akin to Paul's.) This is true even before Paul consumed the Water of Life and gained full access to his ancestral memories, and once he unlocked the Other Memory, Feyd is simply no match for him. So tracks like "Matador" and "Bells in Santa Fe" work better if you think of them as speaking from Feyd's POV:

Your cape is crimson

And you're waving it, snarling

The air is full of danger

I only wanted to put on a little skirt, a little show for you

...

I came crawling in on all fours

Knocking at your door, knocking at your door

I don't wanna bleed anymore

I just wanted love, but you wanted gore

You're my matador

While Feyd is the gladiator with a number of wins in the Geidi Prime arena under his belt, Paul is named after his grandfather who fought bulls for fun. Feyd is a Harkonnen, which is etymologically related to the "härka", Finnish for the bull. When they meet each other blade for blade, Paul is the metaphorical matador to Feyd's bull, not the other way around.

I'm also a fan of simp!Feyd, which is how we ended up with Lil Mariko & Rico Nasty on the track list (lol). But on a more serious note, I like my Feyd softer and besotted with Paul, with or without the context of Paul as Emperor ordering Feyd around. In that light, it's obvious who would be the one to come crawling, begging for love from the other man.

Leaving through the door without a word

You won't even notice, little bird

Better off dead so I reckon I'm headed to hell instead

So don't wait for me, don't wait for me, wait

It's not a happy ending

...

But, Jesus, you've got better lips than Judas

I could keep your bed warm, otherwise I'm useless

I don't really mean it, 'cause who the fuck would choose this?

Self loathing hours with Feyd lmao. I don't believe Feyd is capable of shame, but he bested Rabban in currying favours with the Baron and securing the na-Baron title. He must have a mind for politicking, and in a Feyd Lives AU, he would know full well that he is only useful to Paul's empire insofar as he amuses him and keeps his bed warm. It also really only makes sense for Feyd to call Paul "little bird" and not the other way around, seeing as Paul is the one who brings the Atreides hawk symbol to their union.

Speaking of union, I went back and forth on the inclusion of the Lana Del Rey track until I remembered that she wears a wedding dress in the music video. I've never paired "Ultraviolence" with my ships, not even for my most fucked up faves, for mainly 2 reasons: (1) I don't like to romanticise the domestic abuse detailed in the original context of that lyric. I prefer a dynamic where both parties retain a degree of control and reciprocity in the fucked up shit they do to each other. But in the case of FeydPaul the pain kinks just write themselves, and they would be fully reciprocal. I can see Feyd being the masochist to Paul's more violent tendencies as much as I can see Feyd enacting his learned sadism onto Paul. They would both enjoy it. Also, as every shipper knows, in another life these two would've been betrothed to each other according to the Bene Gesserits' breeding programme.

Heaven is on earth

I will do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

It's literally a wedding song!

(2) I never included "Ultraviolence" in my ship playlists before because the lyrics are kinda cringe. "tears of gold like lemonade"? really? But then again, FeydPaul is largely a Romeo & Juliet type of pairing - they're star-crossed, they're madly in love, and they're teenagers! They would be the type to make cringey promises to each other.

[idontknowreallywhy]

for the fic writer asks <3

10

28

41

Hello!

10 - Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

Typed it into Notes app on my phone where live most of my drafty bits - no “blinks” but I use the word “blinked” an excessive amount… basically every doc comes up 🤭😳 I mean the characters have gotta keep their eyes hydrated… right?

This is the most recent un-posted one:

She checked her seatbelt for the twentieth time and forced herself to breathe evenly. She was in a seat, not in a crate. This was safe. This was legal. Nobody was going to catch her. Nobody would die. She trusted the pilot with her life. It was an airfield it was supposed to smell of fuel. She was in a seat. With a belt. She was supposed to be here. It was… a plane. She… felt herself sliding uncontrollably in the darkness…

She jumped as a gentle touch to her arm dragged her back. She blinked the grey fog from the edges of her vision and tried to wrestle her heart rate into something resembling functional.

“Estera? You with me?”

Scott was twisted around in the pilot seat, that all too familiar crinkle of concern between his eyebrows. She swallowed and nodded furiously.

28 - On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

String… length thereof… some days I’ll struggle to manage a sentence even though my head is full of scenes… others I get in a bit of a frenzy and write a few thousand words… then spend ages messing about with them so most won’t make the cut. If I’m in commute one-shot mode I guess between 500-1000 words?

41 - Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

I am an avid re-reader. If I need to relax/escape, rather than picking up something new I will more often will pick up a book I have already read and get embroiled all over again - I don’t find knowing the ending spoils it in the slightest. I still ride the same rollercoaster. The same goes for fanfics. Some days I just need one of the stories I already know will carry me away - there are a couple I could probably write out large chunks of if asked I’ve read them that many times… @gumnut-logic’s VT Green, @sweet-christabel’s Misconceptions, @womble1’s Hallmark Christmas and @lenle-g & @tsarinatorment’s Just a Bruise (which will forever be known to me as “the comfort rock” being some notable examples…

[guildofscribes]

Obi-wan Kenobi, y'all...

Okay, so I ran out of PJO fics for now (gonna' wait a while before going back because writing is hard work and I understand that), and I got back into Star Wars. 

**Obi-wan Kenobi** folks!! 

Rereading the books and watching video essays and absorbing the different stuff about the dude…

I just like him. 

No “main character” energy really, he’s a support character, BUT BOY DOES HE DO THAT SUPPORTING!!!

Obi-wan never had the staggering potential that screamed out “Watch This One!” to the rest of the people, wasn’t much beyond “yeah, he’s okay” at almost everything…

That is, until he got attached to someone with Main Character Energy. 

*Then* it’s him just scrambling to keep up, scrambling to keep his head above water, or just scrambling to *keep his head at all* and the boy be like “man, it takes forever to Level Up around here” like he didn’t get thrown into life on Death March/No Save mode. 

There’s no easy run for him, because he got pitched into the Big Leagues before he scraped into Little League by fingernails and the skin of his teeth and nobody told him the game they were playing. 

I’m just… *hmm* (insert consternated flailing here)

He’s the Normal Dude that didn’t understand that he was allowed to bow out for a more peaceful lie. 

The smol boy didn’t know that while he was struggling to not drown and being In Crisis that the people around him weren’t drowning was because they had Plot Armor! He had to make his own freaking armor! 

“Man, everybody is a really great saber dualist, I have to make sure I can keep up.”

*(probably keeps a diary of every mistake and ends up mastering a whole Form of combat and excels in the ones that fill in all his gaps)*

“Man, I keep getting thrown around so much, I am so outclassed.”

*(takes so much punishment that should cripple everyone and then Walks Away from the encounter???)*

“Man, I’m so average in the Force, I gotta’ work on my skills in everything.”

*(OP’s the skills he has to Wild Extents- have you seen what he does with the “it be furry, it be Friend Shaped” ability?)*

I can’t with this character!!!

He’s what happens when a Normal Person gets thrown into the Main Storyline and Doesn’t Die because he has a lick of common sense. The situations keep getting more insane, to he Sense required isn’t at all Common anymore, but he’s still like “I’m literally the Worst here, look at these Amazing People around me!”

Every single time something Wild happens he looks at it like “I would never survive that.” and proceeds to overthink his way to the Solution “just in case” and Applies it to his life when he gets dragged into the next insane thing.

Obi-wan Kenobi worked his way into Main Character Status by accident!

see so many separate posts about Star Wars in which there’s this expose on this Person and how they reacted to a Situation and how it rolled out, and then there’s the ending of “But when Obi-wan hit same situation, he didn’t Do A Stupid.”

Literally HALF of my Star Wars pintrist board is this stuff!  *And I didn’t realize until I went to organize it recently!*

“Hmm, this is a lot of Obi-wan stuff…”

“Wait a minute… it’s all *quotes* from stuff.”

“Oh my gosh! He’s the Old Man in the profession that devours Young Men! Obi-wan is an Old Bastard! What the heck!”

(seriously though, look up the "Old Bastards" division in WWII, it’s insane and I will be using this lingo for the rest of forever)

Literally the biggest Dad Energy of the Order!

Nobody else can fix a thing? “Hey, send Kenobi, he can do it.”

“Hey, let’s put Kenobi on that mission, he can handle a gaggle of idiots.”

Obi-wan shows up like, “What am *I* supposed to do about this if somebody else couldn’t figure it out? I’m not Magic, I’m not Yoda!” and people are like, “Heck if I know! But you gotta’ help ‘cause we know you Got This!” (thumbs-up) :D

And Obi-wan just quietly dies inside and tries not to die for real and become an Inconvenience on top of probably not knowing what exactly he’s doing. But dammit, they asked, so he’s going to Help, come hell and high water, because honestly with his luck, they're both probably what’s just around the corner.

Is he the Best Professional at all of the things he does?

No!

But he’s good enough at enough stuff, if he doesn’t know he’ll Learn It and get that :poop: done!

He’s a “Normal Guy” in the world of the Jedi. So damn relatable in that he’s average… until he works his butt off. And then he just thinks he’s hit the Acceptable level of things. (facepalm)

The amount of Trauma he walks off is just, so astronomical. I can't begin to address that here. Maybe another day.

And! And! He’s got a freaking indestructible sense of humor! The height of gallows humor, the peak of sarcastic wit, the most solid baseline of self-deprecating jokes that just… *chef’s kiss*

Depression? Oh absolutely! But he’s going to make you laugh about it and forget that it’s Actually Serious because dammit, that’s one good idea for what should surely be a crippling case!

*sigh*

I’m tired now. 

This whole story is a Trip.

[angelmichelangelo]

if you are still taking requests ,, i am once again requesting rise disaster twins. IM SORRY OKAY they are the sillies of all and i am obsessed with how you write them and their dynamic. mayhaps something goofy and fluffy of your choosing. also a good time for me to say that across all of your tmnt fics, i adore how well you write authentic sibling relationships. it is so satisfyingly accurate and a big reason as to why youre one of my fave fic authors :)))))) anyways enjoy the rest of your vaycay while you can !!!!

AHH TYSM FOR SUCH KIND WORDS ;__; appreciate it, pal! here are some of the sillies :3

read on ao3!

x

“There’s a ghost in the bathroom.”

Leo says it as he torpedoes into Donnie’s room, launching himself onto his bed at full speed to sprawl across his legs, making the other turtle click in annoyance at him as he tries to free himself from the heavyweight now draped across his lower limbs.

“No there isn’t,” Donnie hisses, setting his iPad down carefully on his side table. “Now get off of me.”

Leo rolls onto his shell, starfishing out his arms and legs to distribute his weight further as Don attempts to buck him off. “Nope.” He says, entirely serious, popping the p and everything. “There is. I saw it. You gotta check it out with me.”

Donnie scoffs (a real one this time) and rolls his eyes hard enough to leave some strain there in his skull. “Was it not the boiler whistling again? I told you it was gonna do that.”

Leo shakes his head. “Nuh uh. I know what the boiler sounds like, Don, I harmonize with it every morning. In perfect pitch and everything.”

Donnie’s brow swoops low over his eyes. “Yeah. I know.” He sighs, and tries again to roll his brother off his body but fails. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll come check out your stupid ghost.”

Leo grins a wicked smile and props himself up onto his elbows, seemingly about to release him before he pauses and shoots his brother a steady glance.

“I’d be careful about calling it stupid,” he says, still entirely serious about the whole thing. “That shit will haunt you for life.”

Donnie deadpans him and gives him a hard enough shove to move him to the edge of the bed. “Just go.”

There isn’t a ghost in the bathroom. Not that Donnie can notice anyway.

He inspects the room with a keen eye, because even if he does veer on the whole non believer stuff he hates being wrong about anything, especially in front of Leo — so full ghost hunter mode it is.

“I think it’s just the old pipes,” Donnie concludes after Leo launches into a detailed explanation as to what he’d heard in here moments ago. “They just rattle a bit and make noise.”

Leo snorts a laugh. “Like dad.”

Donnie doesn’t laugh, but does indeed agree. “Like dad.”

Leo bobs his head, looks at himself in the mirror and then says,

“Awesome. No ghost. Come get waffle cone with me to celebrate?”

To that, Donnie tips his head back, all the way without it falling clean off his shoulders and makes a very ghostly sounding groan.

“What?” Leo says with a laugh, ribbing him gently with an elbow in his side.

Donnie’s head snaps upwards, maybe a little too fast on the account of the stars that swirl about in his head before he can take a breath, and he’s narrowing his eyes into sharp slits, directed right at him.

“You did this to get me to go get waffle cone with you?”

Leo reaches over and in the condensation of the mirror does a little finger drawing of Donnie, large eyebrows of course exaggerated with a little speech bubble that reads wehhh next to him with a frowny face.

“Can’t a hermano choose to hang with his hermano?” He says once he’s down, beaming proudly at it before looking back to see if Donnie was watching at all.

“Ugh.” Donnie responds dryly. “You don’t have to… fabricate the paranormal laws to get me to hang out, Nardo.” And suddenly the bathroom feels a little cramped for the pair of them.

Leo’s face softens and Donnie feels a swell of guilt suddenly rise up from his gut.

“Er, yeah I do, dude,” Leo says with a breathy laugh. “The other day when we went to the skate park?”

Donnie folds his arms over his chest defensively. “Yeah? I went with you, didn’t I?”

Leo nods. “Yeah, only after I’d argued with you about how you should put rocket launchers on my wheels, and you said you’d come with me to make sure I hadn’t.”

Donnie bristles. “That… was entirely practical.”

“Or the other time,” Leo continues. “When we went to Run of the Mill for lunch and I told you I could finish that entire sundae in five minutes.”

“And you didn’t. You were nearly sick, Hueso threw you out by the scruff of your shell.”

Leo chuckles. “Yes but you still came with me. It worked, didn’t it?”

Donnie feels his whole body sag, arms hanging limp at his sides, deflated like a giant, soggy balloon.

“Leo…” he says, feeling small. “I… you didn’t have to—”

“Dude!” Leo is quick to interject whatever it is he was planning on saying by looping his arms around his neck and pulling him in tight. “Do not start on the sorry crap right now or I’m bringing that sundae up again, I don’t care that I ate and digested it a week ago, it’s coming up.”

Donnie untangles himself from his twin’s iron bar hold and frowns at him. “But you shouldn’t have to find excuses for me to hang out with you.” He says.

Leo shakes his head, like everything was easy, breezy, Leo-squeezy.

“Don-Tron, I know it’s not easy for you, bro. The whole socializing thing? I got you, man. S’what I’m here for.” A playful beat. “Besides being the better looking one.”

Donnie scowls at him in full force. “I disagree.”

Leo jabs a thumb to little mirror drawing Donnie that was starting to drip across the glass.

“He doesn’t,” he says. “Waffle cone? You and I?”

Donnie huffs, though in truth, he does want waffle cone. And he does want to hang out with his brother.

“You and I,” he says. “And the ghost?”

Leo grins, all teeth and hooks Donnie in close with his arm as they exit the bathroom together.

“Yup. Only the best, Dee.”

[aerodaltonimperial]

Ship of your choice. ‘ "I think... I'm in love with (Name)" || "Congrats on being the last one to find out” ‘

(💚🖤 sorry i'm in hyperfixation mode i gotta write 5 more fics to get to #1 for both of them)

7:29 PM sure, i'll text you after i'm back as long as i don't get fuckin jumped or some shit lol

"You better not," Jack grumbles to his phone in the other locker room.

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Hook asks, without looking up.

"Darby," Jack says, while typing out a quick reply of don't fuck up your back again, we're gonna have to buy stock in IcyHot. "He thinks he's gonna get jumped again. I should probably go back to the tunnels, make sure nothing happens."

"Uh huh," Hook replies, absently. He's scrolling through Instagram. "When's the last time you did that for me?"

"You don't need it," Jack points out.

Hook looks up, unimpressed, and rolls his eyes. "LFI literally fucking knocked me out last week. You didn't even notice."

"Okay, but Lucha is probably gonna go after Darby," Jack says. "I have to be there for that, y'know? And also I noticed!"

"You noticed when I texted you about it."

"No, I knew it before then."

Hook sighs. "I had to text you, literally, hey LFI just fucking punched me in the head, do you have any ibuprofen and you ignored me for an hour."

"That wasn't my fault, Christian was taunting Darby backstage. You know how obnoxious he is. I was busy."

"Nothing even happened. Christian didn't want to damage his Gucci turtleneck."

Jack shakes his head. "But something could have. Jeez, Hook."

The expression Hook levels him with is very, very unimpressed now. Jack stares back at him, a battle of wills, until finally he says, "Don't look at me like that."

"Jack."

"Whatever you're going to say, it's not a thing."

"I invited you to New York last week and you said, and I quote, 'haha I'm busy all week'."

"I was busy all week, I was in Atlan—"

"I tried to get you to come out to dinner with me and a remarkably good-looking group of single women, and you said, 'No, Hook, I don't feel like Thai food'."

"Okay, well I didn't."

"We were going for Mexican."

Jack groans. "I had other plans!"

"I know you did," Hook says, waving his phone. "I know, because you always have other plans. I try to get you to do a Starbucks run, and you'd rather have shitty gas station coffee en route to the local skate park. I asked you if you wanted to be super impulsive and go to London for a few days, and you told me you had to check with someone else first, and then, by the way, you never got back to me. I asked if you were going to Caleb the med staffer's wedding, and you told you that you already have a plus one, which wasn't even what I fucking asked."

"Hook, okay, so I've been maybe a little bit distant, but I'm not—"

"Jack," Hook says, with the sort of infinite patience that Jack knows he'll pay for later, "when is the last time you went on a date?"

Jack stares at him. Stares, and stares, and stares, and then says, "No."

"Yes," Hook replies, eyebrows hiked.

"That's not..."

Hook spreads his hands wide, his left hand still holding his phone.

"No, Hook, I'm not..." Jack trails off. Stops. His stomach drops low as his veins turn to ice. "Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm... oh my god, I think I'm in love with Darby."

"No shit," Hook snorts. "Congrats on being the last one to find out."

"Holy shit." Jack can't breathe. "Do you... do you think everyone knows?"

"Yes," Hook says.

Jack's vision blurs a little at the sides. "Do you think Darby knows?"

"Yes," Hook repeats.

"OH MY GOD," Jack says, quite reasonably and measured. "WHAT DO I DO."

"He's just waiting for you to make a move, dude," Hook says, and goes back to scrolling on his phone as though Jack's life has not just fundamentally imploded. "So... you should probably do that. Like, maybe immediately. Mostly so you can stop lying to yourself and being so annoying about it."

"WHAT," Jack replies, a picture of serenity.

"Just, like, I dunno, find a closet or something? Or the rafters? Somewhere where I don't have to see you shove your tongue down his throat. As a courtesy. To my delicate eyeballs."

He then ignores Jack's ten consecutive panic attacks, which, honestly, is really just the worst.

[badchoicesworld]

Ok this might be too niche, and if so I totally get it. Its a bit similar to the one about post top surgery (which I loved, by the way)

So I don't know if you've ever heard of transtape, but it's a type of binding. And boy it can be REALLY itchy. So I was wondering if you could write a noir fic where the reader and him are eating out somewhere, or even at home, and the reader is (trying to hide it but kind of hardcore failing) itching at the tape like they've got some sort of allergic reaction.

But noir is obviously concerned like "what's wrong are you having an allergic reaction???" And the reader is like "oh Nono it's nothing-". Either because they didn't tell noir they were trans yet, or simply because they don't want him to worry and flip out.

But then noir is like "absolutely not" and he goes into full "gotta save my partner" mode, because he thinks there's gotta be some sort of obscenely serious allergic reaction here, and he's doing a full medical examination while panicking. The reader finally tells him what's up when they see just how worried he is, and he's relieved but also still concerned. Cute hugs included please.

Thanks so much! I don't know if this completely ridiculous, but thank you!

noir finds out you wear trans tape

yknow, i love spider verse so dearly but if i ever became one it’s incredible how fast id become past tense, my arachnophobia could not live w the fact that i’d be part spider

established relationship

warnings: none, don’t think

pairing: spider-noir x transmasc!reader

requests: check out the masterlist !

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

ever since you invited noir to your dimension, he’s been wanting to try out all of the new food places that he’s never heard of before

he mostly sees a sign that he really likes, something usually glowing and neon and immediately assumes the food has to be incredible

admittedly, a lot of the food is better in comparison to 30’s cuisine

it’s like a tradition for you guys to get takeout once a week, something like that, just to try out new foods and see if you can find anything you like

this is one of those instances, later in the week where you two decide to order some takeout and kick back in your place

you also happen to be three days deep into wearing trans tape, right around that mark where it starts to get irritating and itchy if not maintained properly

of course, you’ve done pretty well at keeping this little detail about yourself private, for your own reasons

that of course includes from your partner, peter parker/spider-noir

wether he knows you’re trans or not, he’s unaware that you bind with trans tape and if you were ever to explain that to him, he’d be fuckin clueless

trans tape ? the tape is trans ? what ?

so yeah i don’t blame you for keeping it a secret

anyway, you two are settling down with your food from this new joint that noirs had his eye on for a bit

it slaps, food slaps, food is amazing

and it’s a pure coincidence that your trans tape starts to really irritate you, the adhesive or maybe one of those annoying as fuck loose fibres that’s just barely grazing ur skin

at first you just try to discreetly readjust your body while trying not to spill food all over you, easy enough

but then the itch doesn’t go away .

try as you might, there’s no way of discreetly dealing with an itch . give it a scratch, lest it haunts you for the rest of your life

you again, try to do it as discreetly as possible

but after a while, even noirs oblivious ass will notice how thoroughly you’re trying to scratch at yourself

at first his head is completely empty, he’s just staring at you cluelessly until he thinks that it could have something to do with the new food you’re both eating

immediately voices this concern, doesn’t bother to beat around the bush if he thinks your health is at risk, straight up “what’s wrong? are you allergic?” with no context

now you’re both confused cause, no, you’re not ? but then ah, right, attempting to discreetly scratch an itch can look awkward

assuming your allergic is probably the smartest thing to do

insist you’re okay with no further explanation, and noir will just assume you’re attempting to downplay it

takes it into his own hands, sets his food aside without hesitation and does the same for you

starts a full scale investigation, he is a PI

starts to gently pull on your arms to get a better look at them, rolling your sleeves up if you’re wearing them

checking your temperature, getting up close to see if you’re breaking out in any sort of rash while asking plenty of questions, like a real detective

he doesn’t start to panic until he doesn’t find any of these symptoms at all, now he’s perplexed and worried

the whole time you can be trying to spew reassurances or excuses, but he’s not convinced until there evidence to suggest you’re NOT having an allergic reaction to the food

you’ll be here forever unless you spill what’s going on

so, in your time, you eventually will

you’ll reassure him once again that you’re fine and go on to explain to him what’s going on, that you’re binding and your trans tape is starting to irritate you

the concept of being trans is a little confusing to him, but the physical act of taping your chest down is a lot easier for him to understand since it’s a like, an action (does that make sense)

so while it might confuse him why you do it at first, especially if it’s gets irritating after a while, he can understand the actual action of doing it

in his head it’s like “oh. okay.” idk man it’s ur appearance he doesn’t have a say in that shit, he doesn’t wanna, he just acknowledged that this is a thing you do

but then he gets curious

he’ll ask about the details, why it irritates and if there’s things you can do to avoid it

explain to him that, yeah, it can suck to bind and there’s instances where it can be a risk, but you do it for the sake of your wellbeing

he’ll insist that you don’t have to bind around him if it makes you uncomfortable

in his head, if something bad has happened while you bind once, it could happen again

now he’s just kinda bummed that this is something you have to endure at all, just for the sake of your own comfort

he’ll probably hit you with a “Well. Do you have to?” a few times in one sitting, in the least insensitive way possible

he just doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable

seems counter productive to him, to do something that causes discomfort to BE comfortable

but he’s just having a hard time understanding the importance

still, he’s not feeling great about it now and wants to show you he’s there through plenty of TLC

grab ur takeout and pick a movie with some bright ass colours

he’s notably a little more delicate now around your chest, especially the sides

for future reference, he’s happy to help you tape up if you ever need the extra pair of hands

but you will have to teach him how to do it properly, if not, he’ll think ur supposed to go as tight as possible

also willing to help take it off, is for some reason the one wincing

he’s checking up on you constantly now

ESPECIALLY after he’s done his own research and learned about how dangerous binding can be if it’s not done right

he’s over dramatic, let him have his moment

he is the type to physically stop you from doing certain things you shouldn’t while binding- will give you one of those disapproving looks while he waits for you to do the right thing

he’ll hit you with a “what do you think you’re doing, mister?” and u just know it’s over

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

bind safely freaks