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wisteriaiswriting · 4 months

Note

Can you do an autistic trans(if you do that) male reader who doesn’t really get social cues but is overall pretty quiet and reserved with the people from the Hazbin hotel?

𝕊𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝔽𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕪

Words: 1111

𝔸𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣:

He will be unaware at first, so his first impression about you is not good. Thinks you’re being rude on purpose, but when he finds out that's not the case he’ll feel slightly bad.

For his assumptions he’ll subtly apologize by dropping presents in your room (Unnamed of course.) and lending you a helping hand.

If you two become close he will take you to his tailor to get matching suits, different colours obviously, can’t have you taking his signature colour now, can we?

***

For the first few days you’ve been at the hotel Alastor has been weirdly stand offish. Others didn’t mind, often glad he’s staying away rather than closer. But you wanted to know why, so you asked Charlie.

Who asked Alastor, to which he gracefully answered.

“Well, I don’t enjoy seeing terrible manners around the hotel, surely you don’t either?” At his words the reason for avoidance clicked in her head.

“Why didn't you say so? Well knowing you, you wouldn’t… But Y/N isn’t that good with social cues, so he doesn’t mean any of, whatever he’s been doing.”

“Oh…” At her words he left the room, finding you. “Well hello my Handsome fellow,”

“Hi?” After his most recent actions you didn’t expect him to just waltz up to you.

“Unfortunately someone has ruined my suit,” Correct, a good chunk was missing. “And hopefully you would accompany me?”

“Sure, I guess?”

“Perfect!”

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕖:

She's unsurprisingly similar when it comes to social cues.

When it comes to you being autistic or trans she won’t notice, that’ll be the last thing she knows.

You two can not be left alone, someone will need to supervise you both.

***

It has been barely a week since you fell into hell and it’s been terrible. There were too many things happen that you could say or even recall, so today was meant to be relaxing. Or at least somewhat close, until someone pulled you around.

They were your only friend here, so of course you had to follow. After a few hours walking around you found you both in front of a hotel, one called the ‘Hazbin hotel.’ Excitedly knocking at the door while you watched.

Within seconds the door swung open revealing an excited blonde.

“Oh my, hi!” Pulling you both in as she spoke, which allowed you to see other people hanging around. “I’m Charlie, and welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

“Told ya you’d like it here.”

You were both aware nothing was said beforehand but you didn’t confront them. Seemed like the others knew something was up, so they had Charlie pull you away.

“Since you're new, how about a private tour of the Hazbin Hotel?”

𝕍𝕒𝕘𝕘𝕚𝕖:

Compared to the other hotel residents your quietness is a surprise, but a welcome one at that.

If you ask or signal at all to her she’ll be at your side to subtly help you with social cues and anything else needed.

Especially if you’re new (Also if not) she’ll help you get masculine clothing, although she might have to get others help as she isn’t the most masculine either.

***

Charlie had just brought you to the hotel in a… not so good condition. She wasn’t sure what you went through to look like that but she knew you needed some help, and she was going to help where she could.

“Alastor, I need your help”

“Hmm?”

“You know the newbie, I have to get him some clothes. Problem is I have no clue where to go.” At her words his smile increases slightly.

“I could help, for a price…”

“Nevermind.”

While she wanted to help she wouldn’t risk anything with Alastor, maybe Angel would be better.

𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝 𝔻𝕦𝕤𝕥:

He’s seen some shit during his time down in hell, so your actions and attitude isn’t seen as weird to him.

To a degree he’ll take advantage of you. Never anything you wouldn’t want, but to keep him safe from Vaggie or Alastor.

But only he can do it, if anyone else even tries he’ll be there to protect you.

***

“Vaggie, why would I do that?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe you–”

“Doesn’t matter, I would never when Y/N is with me!”

At his words Vaggie looked down at you, finding you wrapped in Angels pairs of arms. You had a few blooming bruises around your face but otherwise seemed alright.

“Just… Don’t do it again, I don’t want to see Y/N or Charlie get mad at you.”

“Really, Y/N mad at me? Never!” One pair of hands had come up to cup your cheeks, able to leave multiple kisses. Causing Vaggie to leave quickly.

“Now, let me take care of those bruises.”

𝕊𝕚𝕣 ℙ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤:

He’s been thrown into the same boat as you, has absolutely no understanding of social cues.

If anything the eggs make it worse, as they are somehow worse than sir pentious.

He has accidentally hurt the both of you at once somehow, no one is sure how that happened.

***

The streets didn’t seem too busy, which was weird for hell. But it might’ve been the fact you and Sir Pentious just weren’t aware of them walking. His tail was swaying dangerously behind him, knocking over any people.

During this his eggs were scattered around the both of you. Some stayed behind, in between and some strayed next to you. Which caused an even bigger barrier to form, now people had to step off the path.

ℍ𝕦𝕤𝕜:

When he first meets you he won’t really care, he’s had worst people hang around.

If he’s being honest he understands and gets social cues, but majority of the time he just doesn’t care about them.

Even then he knows with your lack of awareness you’re likely to get into some unwanted trouble, so he hangs around a lot more.

***

Husk never had the heart to blame you for any trouble, he knew you never meant it. So tonight he accompanied you to a nearby bar, intending for at least a semi-nice night out. But of course someone had to ruin it.

A drunk demon decided he wanted to bother you for the night, ignoring Husk the whole time. But over time his anger rose, you weren’t even looking at him and you didn’t seem interested.

In which you weren’t, but he seemed so incessant that you spoke, even if you didn’t. His attitude quickly became clear very quickly, except you didn’t notice. As he reached for you Husk was quicker, sending a card flying into his head.

That caused everyone to start their own fights. Which gave you two the chance to leave, with minimal injuries of course. Taking the chance you both ran out, luckily no one else was waiting outside.

“We’re going back.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel charlie #charlie x reader #hazbin hotel vaggie #vaggie x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #angle dust x reader #hazbin hotel sir pentious #sir pentious x reader #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #wisteria♥

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calaisreno · 17 days

Text

His Favourite Jumper

Sherlock can be careless, but he always tries to make things right.

1627 words / Prompt: Eavesdropping

“What’s this?” Mrs Hudson frowns at what he’s showing her. “John’s jumper?”

“John’s favourite jumper. I need to fix it.”

She takes it in her hands and assesses the damage. It’s a nice jumper, all worsted, cabled up the front, the sleeves set in with steeks. Certainly hand knit by someone who knew what she was doing. She assumes it’s a she; there aren’t many men she knows with the patience to knit.

“What did you do to it?”

“The flat was chilly, so I was wearing it. Borrowed it. John wasn’t home. I was doing an experiment and spilled acid on it. I’ll need matching yarn, I assume. And knitting needles.”

The holes are extensive, she notes, and even a good darner would find it hard to repair such extensive damage. Still frowning, she looks up at him. “Do you know how to knit?”

“Well, no. But knitting is just interlocking loops. How hard can it be?”

She stifles a snort. The poor boy is distressed, but determined to fix what he’s ruined. No one should despise a novice effort, but…

“Sherlock, love, these are a lot of holes, and matching the colour and type of the wool is a bit harder than you might think. Even if you could find a match, even you could darn them all, it’s not going to be like new. He’ll be able to tell.”

His face falls a bit. “But he can’t know I’ve ruined it. And he’ll notice it’s gone.”

“You might buy him a new one.”

“This one was hand-made by his grandmother. It won’t be the same.”

Nothing is the same, she wants to say. Sometimes we have to let go of things.

But he’s looking at her so hopefully, and it’s a shame to crush that kind of hope. It’s obvious what’s happening. He’s been in love with John since they moved in together. Sherlock can be careless, but that’s because he’s heedless in his enthusiasm. This isn’t the first jumper he’s ruined, and that’s surely part of his worry. John does have a temper.

“Just tell him. He’ll forgive you.”

“He’s always forgiving me, and I just keep ruining things. Please, Mrs Hudson. Won’t you show me how?”

Now his eyes shine with tears that threaten to fall.

She gives him a darning lesson.

John notices the jumper is missing. She sees him going through the laundry, looking for it, and then through the bins.

When he asks, she plays the innocent, asking him when he last wore it, whether he might have taken it off and left it somewhere. He shakes his head.

She’s watching an old movie late one night when Sherlock brings his work down to her.

“It looks awful,” he says, slumping on her sofa. “I can’t give it to him like this.”

“I think you’re underestimating him, love. He’s not going to leave because you ruined his jumper.”

“This is not the only thing I’ve ruined,” Sherlock replies. “I broke his mug, I lost his charging cord, and I accidentally set his book on fire. It was only a paperback, but still. He must think I’m trying to drive him out.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

Sherlock’s face is pleading. “Please, Mrs Hudson. You must show me how to knit.”

“Knitting a jumper takes time.”

“How long, would you estimate?”

“Well, there’s the size. It’s not a large one, so that’s all right, and it’s a thicker yarn. Made in the round, so there won’t be much stitching up. But you’re a novice, and that adds hours. I would say… forty hours, minimum.”

“A week, then?”

“When will you find forty hours in your week to work on it?”

“John goes to bed earlier than I do, and he’s at work most days. I’ll sleep when he’s home, so I can work on it when he’s gone or asleep.”

She gives him a knitting lesson.

A skilled eavesdropper, she overhears their conversation, John asking, Sherlock giving a shrug and suggesting that if he had indexed his jumpers, maybe he wouldn’t have misplaced it.

At night, Sherlock comes down for instruction. She shows him how to make ribbing around the bottom and cables as he travels up the body. He has good dexterity and makes quick progress.

“He’s bought himself a new jumper,” he informs her. “Very cheap. Obviously machine-made. And the yarn is plastic!”

“Acrylic,” she says. “It has the advantage of laundering well. No shrinkage.”

“I hate it,” Sherlock replies. “But mine looks uneven. I’m not happy.”

“You have to check your gauge. You’re new to this, so it’s probably changed as you’ve become more proficient.”

She pulls out her gauge ruler and shows him. “See? It’s narrowing. Your stitches are getting tighter.”

“How do I fix it?”

“You can either switch to larger needles, or you can recalculate, unravel, and start over. Either way, you’ll need to pull out a few rows.”

He presses his fingers against his forehead. “This is going to take years!”

“Not years.” She pats his hand. “You’ve got the hang of it. Even experienced knitters have to pull out days of work sometimes. It’s worth it to get a jumper that looks good.”

He gives a heartfelt sigh, slides the jumper off the needles, and begins pulling the stitches out.

She admires his determination. It takes him weeks to work his way to the armholes, and then she shows him how to do a steek where he will attach the needles for the sleeves. As his consulting business picks up, the weeks turn into months.

At Christmas, John wears a dark blue jumper with an Icelandic yoke of red and white. She admires it; he smiles and tells her his grandmother made it for him. Sherlock’s eyes are on him, every time John isn’t looking. It’s not the jumper he’s admiring.

The jumper is set aside after Moriarty steals the Crown Jewels, hacks into the Bank of England, and breaks into Pentonville Prison.

Sherlock bows out of John’s birthday, claiming he has a ‘thing.’ When she comes up to check on him, he’s finished one sleeve, ready to start the other.

She can see John is hurt that Sherlock skipped his birthday. He didn’t even get him a card. He says nothing, but the way he looks at Sherlock makes her certain; he’s in love with his flatmate.

Afterwards, an awful silence fills the flat. She can hear the floorboards creak a bit as John paces back and forth. There’s no violin to soothe him to sleep.

It’s days before she can bear opening the door of his room, but she knows she has to put things in boxes. His brother has promised to continue paying the rent until he can collect his things. But it’s heartbreaking, looking at all the familiar clutter. She has to tidy up.

There are clothes scattered on the floor, and she gathers them for the wash. She goes through his drawers, tallying how many boxes she’ll need. In the wardrobe, all his suits and shirts hang in dry cleaner’s bags.

As she prepares to close the wardrobe door, she spots a file box with a label reading: Experiment. Do not open!

She opens it, of course. Can’t have experiments biding their time in the wardrobe. He always had odd ideas about what was acceptable.

Inside, she finds the jumper. He worked on it for more than a year, and it’s nearly done, just the bottom half of the second sleeve left, and he’s tidied up the ends on the inside already.

It’s a good piece of work, she decides. A long apology for something John would surely have forgiven. It’s love unspoken, words he could never say.

Such a shame, she thinks.

That evening, she finishes the second sleeve, weaves in the final ends. It needs hand washing and blocking, so she takes on those tasks as well.

When it’s done, it looks perfect. If she were judgemental, she would say it’s even better than the original. She folds it and wraps it in tissue paper, places it inside a Marks & Spencer shopping bag.

John Watson is going to get his apology, even if it’s long overdue.

She finds the dismal little flat where he’s living now. Moving out hasn’t made him any happier, she can see when he opens the door.

“Mrs Hudson,” he says, apologetic. “You didn’t have to—”

“It’s fine, John. I’ve brought you something.”

He opens the bag, reaches in. Frowning, he pulls out the jumper.

“This,” he says, practically speechless. “It’s beautiful. It’s almost like the one…”

“The one Sherlock ruined,” she finishes. “He was so distraught over that, John. He was afraid you wouldn’t forgive him.”

“And… you made this… to replace it.” He’s feeling the wool, an incredulous smile on his face. “Mrs Hudson, this is beautiful.”

“No, love.” She smiles, the tears starting to fill her eyes. “He made it.”

For a moment he just gazes, not comprehending. “Sherlock? He made this?”

“For you. He ruined the other— it was an accident. You know him, so careless when he got caught up in things. And he wanted to make it right, so you’d forgive him. He didn’t know how, so I taught him. He did it all himself.”

He buries his face in the jumper. She can see his shoulders shaking.

“There, love. He had it nearly done, and was intending to give it to you, before… well, I know he’d want you to have it now.” She pats his shoulder. “He really loved you, John. I hope you know that. He worked on this for over a year, right up to the end. He loved you.”

Weeping, John raises his face. “I loved him too. And I forgive him.”

@lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl

A knitter of jumpers myself, I imagine that Sherlock would enjoy the mathematical aspects of the craft. 🧶 💕

#mayprompts2024 #johnlock #his favourite jumper

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jwirecs · 6 months

Text

RECOMMENDED NCT FICS OF NOVEMBER 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my nct recs of november! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Makeup, Make Out || @polarisjisung💕✅

↳ somewhere between testing eyeshadow palettes and mascara wands, renjun tests the prospect of loving you (i love me some soft renjun. soft renjun is prob in my top 5 fics to read about in nct. like how can you not enjoy reading soft renjun fics?????)

Ready For Love || @jnnul💕✅💯💯💯

↳ a boy who has never taken a relationship seriously. a girl who is seriously over relationships. when they end up finding each other, will they let their ideas of what a relationship should be like ruin their relationship before it even starts? (the concept of one person believing in one thing and the other person believing in another but they come to one accord to overcome the obstacle is amazing. literally as op has said in their warnings "match made in heaven", they truly are and i love that.)

Misses Suh? || @nctsplug02🔞💕✅💯

↳ (there was not exact summary, but if you remember the jeongs fics from this author then i present you the suhs. stop i freaking love these fics from them. i hope theres going to be more suhs.)

Silent Treatment || @polarisjisung💕💔✅

↳ your boyfriend broke some guy's nose for you, but what he doesn't realise is he also broke his promise to you (how does one give jeno the silent treatment???? easy, pretend to be oc cause thats what i did. LOL LIKE HOW CAN YOU GIVE THIS MAN THE SILENT TREATMENT. mans gonna be looking at you with them eyes and you are just gonna fold. gosh hes adorable and sht)

Trauma || @peanutpinet💕💔✅💯

↳ Being the son of the famous Nam Goongmin came with a heavy price to pay for Jaemin. Though Taeyong managed to get Jaemin out of his father’s mafia business and helped him to heal, there was still some trauma that Jaemin had yet to face. Until he came across a girl that he would soon learn that he can’t always run from his problems (the fact that the story lowkey connects with the other fics that they have is a gold mine. my ass is out here re-reading everything from the beginning aka the first one all the way to this one while i wait for the next one.)

Enough For You || @midmourn💔✅💯

↳ you wanted to be enough for mark, but no matter what you did, you weren't. (brb let me just sit in the corner real quick. stop, i need more angst nct fics to satisfy my angst side. like you can just feel the hurt that the oc is feeling, cause i know for a fact everyone has been through this once in their life time.)

I'm A Mouse, Duh! || @springseasonie🔞✅

↳ Nomin in police costumes and Y/N in a "mouse" costume (it's literally just lingerie). Will they fuck? Keep reading to find out! (1. i love the mean girls reference. that movie is a classic. 2. another roommate threesome, i may have a problem. BUT THATS FINE. this fic was hella good.)

I Wanna Make You Scream || @nctsplug02🔞✅💯💯💯

↳ (johnny in a scream mask?????????? sir???????? HELLOOOOOOOOO????? like god this fic is, oh child.)

Rent Is Due! || @starillusion13🔞✅💯

↳ (theres no summary, but do you know what else is due??? my insanity after reading this fic. like god dam. had to take a moment to breathe after finishing the fic.)

Strawberry Cough || @hazyhae🔞💕✅

↳ when your longtime bestie and plug moves out of town, he recommends one of his buddies to fill your weed needs. jaemin is glad to deliver that, and maybe even more. (the fact that jaemin automatically has a stock of the strawberry flavor for the oc is cute as sht. mans literally fell in love at first sight.)

The Day That I Met You I Started Dreaming || @nctstar💕✅💯

↳ You watched in satisfaction as the imprint of your lips stained a faded red colour, two semi-circles adorned by fine lines. The smell of strawberry wafted gently, so subtle you could have missed it. Yet, his voice rang in your ears. “You taste so sweet, baby. You always do.” (stop, i think this was one of the "long" jungwoo fics that i have read so far. i should start reading more jungwoo fics ngl. i honestly like how the story went. like it was at a good pace. not too rushed and not too slow, at the perfect pace. )

They're Roommate || @luvyeni🔞✅

↳ maybe those “jokes” your roommates play on you aren’t actually jokes (nomin threesome??? let me at it. lord have fcking mercy on me)

Young God || @jaeminvore🔞💕✅💯💯

↳ in which you were essentially scammed into cohabiting with a ridiculously clingy demon that lives off of sex. It could be worse. At least he staved off from sucking your soul out in exchange of you sucking something else—among other things (demon hyuck is a menace but hes a cute menace you know. hes gonna be like your bffl demon. i honestly fully enjoyed this one so much, like you dont understand. the mans a cute ass menace)

NCT 127 Texts || @phoxphenex💕✅💯

↳ Baby 127 Calling Dad on Tour (stop i cant wait for them to be parents. like these fans are gonna have to grow a pair of balls and suck it up that these mens are gonna be parents in the future. like can u imagine their kid just texting them. their kid will have them on their knees i swear.)

NCT Dream Texts || @jenosz💕✅💯

↳ Jeno boyfriend texts (the way that i fcking cackled at the first one. i cant, that was literal GOLD. ngl thats prob something i would say to my boo, if i had one LMAO)

NCT Dream Texts || @midmourn💕✅

↳ Your mom hasn't paid me this month (stop jisung would be the one to actually tell his mom. protect this lil sprout.)

8:57PM || @gyeomsweetgyeom💕✅

↳(faster/2 baddies era jaehyun has me on a fcking chokehold im not gonna lie.)

Do check out all of the other NCT Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

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lindwurmkai · 7 months

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hey, have you heard that pillowfort has ✨ drafts ✨ now? (as in, the ability to save your posts as drafts.) they're still working on the queue feature (update: it's done!), but drafts are a big step forward!

in case you missed it so far, pillowfort is like a cross between tumblr and dreamwidth/livejournal, with a simplified dashboard reminiscent of old school tumblr and some classic livejournal features such as communities, threaded comments, and the ability to make individual posts followers-only or mutuals-only.

what are communities? basically, central hubs for posts about any subject you want that, unlike hashtags, can be moderated. they may have rules, such as "[subject matter] must be tagged" for example. you can post directly to a community or reblog existing posts to it!

since the site is currently experiencing some financial trouble, i thought i'd help out by spreading the word once again.

edit: the fundraiser was a success! crisis averted! i knew we could do it :D

why you should give pillowfort a chance:

no ads

no venture capitalist funding

no spying on the users

completely free to use except for optional premium features

nsfw is allowed except for sexual depictions of minors. if you're unsure what exactly that means, their tos may help

communities and the privacy controls mentioned above are excellent features

great community, low drama compared to other websites (so far)

the site's features themselves encourage genuine connection and good-faith conversation over endless "discourse"

every blog can automatically be filtered by original posts only or reblogs only

reasons not to join:

if you enjoy algorithmic social media. there is no algorithm at all

if you want to post or look at machine-generated art. they're still finalising the wording and personally i hope some exception will be made for models trained on ethically sourced images, but basically an anti-AI rule is in the works (update: finished!)

if you cannot live without reblog additions (reblogging with comment). all discussions on a pillowfort post take place in the comments section, and only your own followers see your tags. this has its pros and cons for sure! a similar feature to scratch that itch may be implemented in the future, but it will never be exactly like on tumblr.

if you need everything to be an app. the website works fine in a mobile browser and a progressive web app will hopefully be released soon (basically it's like an app in your browser and on mobile these can be added to the homescreen like real apps i think? they have push notifications!), but there's not going to be a native app available through official app stores due to the restrictions of those stores.

other factors to consider:

yes, the userbase is still small. depending on your interests, activity may be very slow. but we can change that! and on the plus side, reblogging your post to a community is a good way to easily get more eyes on it; way more effective than simply adding tags imo

the site culture is a bit different than on tumblr. many people read everything that's been posted since the last time they were online and don't follow more users/communities than they can keep up with. it's still somewhat lacking in shitposts and heavy on "essays" but don't be afraid to post whatever 😅

there are no blog themes like we have them on tumblr as yet, but you can customise your blog's colours and use html/insert links and images in your blog description

likes literally do nothing except to let OP know you enjoyed their post. you can't look at a list of all your likes. beware!

the staff is small and development is slow. some highly anticipated planned features other than the aforementioned queue include: - multi-account management - dashboard filters/reading lists - post bookmarking (since likes don't work that way) but we don't know how soon any of those will be implemented.

there is a user-developed browser extension (well, a userscript) called tassel available that adds additional features much like tumblr's beloved xkit :)

✨ okay, so how do i sign up? ✨

if you're interested but confused by the sign-up process or still under the impression that you need to pay to sign up (false), i'll put some clarifications and invite codes under the read more below. plus a note on donating, premium features, the paypal issue etc.

in a nutshell:

it's free

signing up without an invite code is possible, but you may have to wait a short while - supposedly less than an hour atm. just submit your email to the waitlist

if you don't feel like waiting, you can either use an invite code from an existing user or pay $5 to sign up instantly

every user gets plenty of invite codes and we're all willing to hand them out at the drop of a hat. they're really not hard to come by

some invites to get you started (just click the link):

invite 1 ▪ invite 2 ▪ invite 3 ▪ invite 4 ▪ invite 5

invite 6 ▪ invite 7 ▪ invite 8 ▪ invite 9 ▪ invite 10

invite 11 ▪ invite 12 ▪ invite 13 ▪ invite 14 ▪ invite 15

invite 16 ▪ invite 17 ▪ invite 18 ▪ invite 19 ▪ invite 20

i'll try to periodically check if any have been used and cross those out.

...paypal issue?

ok so paypal doesn't like working with sites that allow nsfw. as a result, you need a credit card in order to donate to pillowfort, buy one of those insta-registration keys, or subscribe to premium features*. i personally happen to have a credit card and would be willing to help out anyone who trusts me enough to send the money to me via paypal, but i realise chances are only my friends will do this.

some users are currently organising various activities for the purpose of letting people who only have paypal contribute to the site's survival. it's not super relevant for new users and won't get you access to premium features, but i thought i'd mention it anyway in case someone loves the concept of the site so much they want to support it immediately. a fundraising community has been created to collect posts of that nature!

*premium features are strictly limited to two categories of things:

fun little extras that no one truly needs

higher image upload limits, because obviously big images take up bandwidth and are therefore a reason for increased costs

you will never need to pay for vital accessibility features or anything of the sort. :)

#join us join us join us #my art got so many more notes over there #pillowfort #pillowfort social #social media #tumblr alternatives #;

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 6 months

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Headcanons for @chantillymoon

This was really fun to do! I am currently up to episode 261 of One Piece (Water 7) so please keep that in mind while reading. Because I haven't officially met Brook yet, all of my headcanons are based on what I've read in fanfics and a bit of research so hopefully I'm not too far off.

Platonic headcanons on the rest of the Straw Hat crew can be found here!

Fandom: One Piece

Characters: Brook and Usopp x gn! Reader (separate and platonic)

I see Brook as someone who’s always got a song stuck in his head. And he’s going to make it everyone’s problem. But is it really a problem when he actually has the voice for it? Yes. Yes, it is. Especially when you’re listening to him humming the same part of that one song for the tenth time that day.

At the same time, he’s great to have around if you’ve got a song stuck in your head. Brook knows so many songs that you’d be hard pressed finding one he couldn’t sing for you. And if he doesn’t know the song, he’s pretty good at picking up tunes quickly.

Have sore muscles? Those bony fingers are great for digging into twisted muscles and sore spots. Brook may have gone through a lot because of his Devil Fruit but he’s glad he can do something with it to help his friends.

He’s got a surprisingly good eye for fashion…if he had eyes! In all seriousness, please take him with you next time you need to go shopping for clothes. Between him and Nami, you’ll get back to the ship with a whole new wardrobe full of amazing clothes that suit you perfectly.

Whether you’re quiet or talkative, Brook loves just being in your presence. If you’re on the quiet side, he likes the tranquillity of sitting in companionable silence with someone. And if you’re talkative, he enjoys listening to everything you have to say.

Similarly, Brook’s great to talk to if you want to get anything off your chest. He’s a good listener and won’t spread around anything you’ve told him unless he thinks it could harm the crew (even then, he’d most likely keep it secret for a while). He also gives really good advice.

Brook missed out on a lot during his time in the Florian Triangle so he enjoys having a younger friend to help bring him up to speed. That being said, he’s an absolute menace with the way he mixes slag from his era with modern day sayings. Think something along the lines of “oh, they know their onions, they're no noob” and "ok you cad, time to catch these hands".

If you want to learn how to play an instrument or sing, Brook is more than happy to help. He’s had decades of practice and, even though he’s a bit rusty at explaining things to others, he’s patient and dedicated to teaching you.

Everyone has that one artist friend. And Usopp definitely falls into that category. He’s constantly got a sketchbook with him and will draw anything and everything. If you’re also into art, you’ll definitely bond over that.

Will absolutely hid behind you in battle. Whether you’re taller than him or not, he feels comfortable enough around you to chose you as his hiding spot.

Makes up stories about your bravado and wild adventures as well. While the other straw hats might react badly to Usopp telling stories about them, even if they are meant to improve their reputation, he hopes you will react differently.

In the same manner, Usopp would love to practice his pre-battle speeches with you and get some feedback. He’s a theatre kid at heart but he needs someone he trusts to work on his lines with. As one of his closest friends (and someone hopefully less judgmental than Nami), you fit that description.

He is also the perfect person to tell you stories about the other straw hats, especially if you joined later. He’s an entertainer and, even if he exaggerates his role in events, you’re able to piece together their adventures to date.

Much like Brook, Usopp has a good eye for fashion, but more from the perspective of figuring out what colours and patterns go together. If you’re struggling to put together an outfit, he’s more than happy to give you his two cents worth.

Gossip buddies! If you like gossip or have a way of knowing things about people, you, Usopp, and Nami are the designated “gossip squad” of the straw hats. Usopp is always a good source of information, even if he tends to embellish sometimes.

If you have long hair and don’t feel like tying it up, Usopp should be your first port of call. Sure, Sanji’s amazing with styling hair but he’s usually busy in the kitchen and Nami and Robin usually wear theirs down. Usopp has the free time and skills to help you out. Fair warning though, he may get carried away by his creative tendencies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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onsunnyside · 2 years

Text

⋆⁺ ☁︎ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, soft!Steve, nomad!Steve, neighbours-to-lovers, smut: sexual content (blink and you’ll miss it), angst, the blip: implied/mentioned characters (& reader) getting blipped

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | He’s a man on the run and you’re a chameleon soul, and if only things were as simple as they seem.

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.56K

𝗔/𝗡 | I realized I hadn’t written any angst yet, and as someone with a guilty pleasure of angsty fics, I was appalled. This is an au of where steve went while he was on the run, set between CACW and/after AIW. Heavily inspired by Lana Del Rey’s Video Games, Lucky Ones, and Ride (& the monologue). All mistakes are my own. [all asks]

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Everything surrounding you is mellow and comforting. The sun had long set, taking away those burning white rays, and leaving the humid summer air in its wake. You inhale once, and then again.

Behind you, he shifts, his cotton shirt is smooth against your back, and his foot brushes yours. Heat radiates from his skin and it soothes you in ways that words can neven describe.

Living like this feels like an art form itself, which only makes it ironic since you aren’t doing much at all.

You wonder if you blink, you’d slip back into that drift. It wasn’t a place, no, it was everywhere and in everything—to you, it was a state of being.

An inconsistent course of muted colours and blurred faces, forgettable names spoken in unique voices and memories that bounce between heavenly and awful. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy those moments in that drift.

You had always been a little wild at heart, and as you grew older, fewer and fewer things and people could keep you tamed, satisfied—still.

That obsession for wonder and freedom sent your life into a spiral that has landed you in cities all over the world, with people of all kinds. In a way, they are with you now, all those experiences have brought you here, and someday, this moment will bring you to another.

Hopefully, one with him.

He didn’t like when you spoke like that though, he wanted you to know he’d always be there. Most times, you found yourself believing him, and other times you let his voice play over whatever tune was stuck in your head.

Life was an open road, and him—he was a beautiful, vast garden on the side. And for the past year, you’ve been picking your collection of coloured petals to keep in your pocket. Every time you’d pick a flower, two more sprouts and, they’re always more intricate and stunning than the last.

A large part of you wanted to stay here forever, to be with him until you’re old and grey, and it took a few months for you to admit that to him. Not because of pride or fear, but because of false hope. You didn’t want to plant seeds of faith into his heart, only to crush the seedlings with the tires of your motorcycle.

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.”

You cocked a brow, lowly muttering his name, “Grant, if that isn’t a way to doom a relationship, I don’t know what is.”

And he understood your hesitance, Steve was all too familiar with the style to up and run, hell, he did it for half a year before landing in this blip on a map.

That’s where you were similar. Of course, for different reasons—ephemerality is woven into your soul, while his was the cause of a circumstance and the fact that he was a wanted fugitive.

“—and postcards, lots of them,” Sam’s voice is equally excited and sorrowful, “and the nice ones, none of those crappy, flimsy ones that won’t survive the trip.”

Natasha is different, there is a tinge of happiness in her green eyes but her face is serious, deadly even. “Keep in touch, and I mean it. Hide all you want, I will find you if I have to.”

“You sure it won’t be the other way around?” Steve chuckled, embracing her tightly. “Something tells me you’ll both be off on a wild adventure soon… I hope you’ll tell me about it when we meet again.”

That was over a year ago. And since then, he’s sent dozens of postcards to them, each with short descriptions of his life in point-form, never going into too much detail. His old phone was tucked into his nightstand, it was only for emergencies since he could still be tracked if the government tried.

In this little town, life was good, simple with next to zero worries hovering over his head. Here is the sun was the most radiant.

You were a true ghost, if Steve could call you that, but that also meant you were a clean slate. A fresh start that he’s craved so deeply, a new beginning that he deserved.

You’ve been on the road for years and are a master hitchhiker, he knew that much. You’ve lost count of the miles, the places you’ve occupied and the souls you’ve met. You didn’t have a cellphone, a television, or read the newspaper. You had no clue who he was, what he’s done.

Although, the long hair and thick beard were to thank for that cluelessness as well.

No one in this town knew who he was, and with that, he was able to create someone new. Grant was someone untouched by the Avengers, the Accords and unscathed by any extraterrestrial existence. Just him. Only him. The sole performer and artist, creating his own story as he goes on.

“You aren’t even looking at the clouds, Grant.”

“I am,” he answers, that charming grin growing wider by the second, “they’re in your eyes.”

“I have clouds… in my eyes?”

“Yeah, c’mere and let me see if I can make anything from it.” He’s quick to pull you closer, his hands cupping your face. His blue eyes sear into yours, so full of adoration that it makes your knees a little weak.

You press your hands on his chest. There’s a faint thump beneath your fingertips, and it’s almost in time with yours. “See anything?”

“Hm? What?” He blinks, those thick lashes fanning across his cheekbones. “Oh, just got a little lost, you know…” His finger hooks under your chin, bringing you closer, “…in the clouds.” Your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss.

The delicacy reels you in and silences those pessimistic voices, and now in the quiet, you follow willingly.

You’ve been hurt before but Grant—dearest Grant could destroy you with a single sentence. The worst part is that you don’t have to tell him for him to know, he was well aware of the effect he had on you, the way you’d fold if he asked. It was a foreign feeling you had never felt before, and it scared you.

You felt vulnerable with him despite the glass that has moulded to your skin, keeping you protected yet, within your own terms, exposed.

And him, he’s only ever made you feel safe and secure with that openness.

Blooming from that comfort, that freedom to mess up, be understood and be forgiven, is love. With stupid absolute, you’ve fallen in love with him.

Yet you don’t even know his real name. To you and this town, he’s Grant, to the rest of the world and planets in far places, he’s Steve Rogers.

“What’s got you actin’ so sweet today? Have you done anything that you suddenly regret?” You ask with a slight glare but there’s no heat behind it, nor your question.

“I may have forgotten to load the dishwasher before coming here… also think I forgot my ID, so if we get pulled over, you’ve got to do the talking.”

“Oh, as if Marco gives a crap about us all the way up here.” You turn away again, leaning on Steve who was sitting on the hood of his car. Below the cliffside is one of the smallest towns you’ve ever seen.

With a population in the low hundreds, one local school, bar and extremely limited contact with the rest of the world, it was a stark contrast to the big, sparkling cities you’ve experienced.

Definitely not stellar.

“Ugh, this town fucking sucks. It makes me wonder why I even stayed this long—not like anything is keeping me here anyway. No hot steamy year-long romance to keep me tied down.”

Steve laughs sarcastically, pinching your hip. “Ha, ha, baby, you ever think of doing stand-up?”

“Yeah, I’ve dreamt of it,” you play along as your head sinks into the crook of his shoulder, “but I think I’ll stick to my one-woman show at Jerry’s dingy bar.”

As if you could call it a show, it was more like grabbing the microphone between shifts and singing whatever new song the live band had learnt.

Over the years, you’ve picked up odd jobs in whichever city you landed in, and as for performing, you’ve done it before in motels, restaurants, and bars. Never staying too long to create a name for yourself, rather just leaving out of the blue like a fleeting moment, a fever dream to the citizens.

At the beginning of your journey and by your fifth city, you realized that temporariness fuelled that insatiable hunger for freedom.

Looking back, you acknowledge the variety of taste, colour, and sound. In that state of being, in that drift, you are truly alone because you are lost in it, and being without yourself within yourself is a scary thing. It’s something you’re all too familiar with from being on the road for so long.

“You just belong everywhere, huh?” Grant asked in awe at your endless array of stories from travelling the world, “Like a chameleon—you stay all the same, but change just enough to blend into wherever you are.”

“You talk about it like it’s a talent.”

“It is.” He sat up straight, running a hand through his hair. “Not everyone can survive anywhere at any time—let alone, be happy and thrive from it.”

You’ve always searched for a home, often making do with the kindness of strangers, but when you met Steve there was nothing else that could compare.

Being alone once is enough, and meeting new souls is magical but being in his arms for a few moments is unrivalled.

You loved that freedom, but you loved Grant—Steve more. Your commitment to him has stretched to a year, and despite becoming a recognizable face in this town, you don’t want to leave without him.

You’ve spoken about skipping town someday, you want to show him your favourite cities, and hopefully meet up with those kind strangers who have helped you in more ways than one, some of which you only know the first name of.

“We’ll always have tomorrow to decide.” You closed his notebook, ending his pros and cons list of travelling further East versus going up North. “And if we still can’t choose tomorrow, then we have the next day and the day after that. This free lifestyle doesn’t come with itineraries, Grant. When will you get that through your pretty head?”

Infinite time meant your obsession will never go unfulfilled—which also meant an infinite amount of time together, and endless chances to show Grant everything you want.

That’s the difference between the two of you.

You believe there is a tomorrow, there will be another opportunity to hold him like this, to feel his breath on your lips.

Steve knows different.

You live in the land of tomorrow while Steve lives in the present.

His bag is packed, his suit is laid out on the lumpy mattress and his plants have already been given to Mr. Carter who lives down the street, a kind old man who took them with a joyous grin.

“I knew it, you kids are finally getting out of here while you can.”

Kids, as if Steve wasn’t over a hundred years old.

Mr. Carter brought Steve in for a weak hug, his fragile bones only allowing so much. When he pulls away, his wrinkled hands gently cradle the potted plants. “Wish I was as wild as her. If I were young like you, I’d do the same thing,” he trailed off, pushing his glasses up his nose, “You are both lucky to do it together.”

Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth and just nodded. “Yeah, luck.”

He hasn’t given up on you, nor what the both of you can create together. He’s postponing it—setting it in a box and stuffing it under his bed, he’ll be back for it, and for you. He’ll return once the world is repaired and he can finally formally retire.

Is it worth it to break his own heart, to break you, to protect the entire universe?

“Grant? What’s wrong?”

Steve is quick to make up a lame excuse of being tired because, of course, he can’t tell you.

He’s bitter about it—god, he’s allowed to be selfish sometimes. He’s given his life to the world and to the people who inhabit it, he doesn’t regret that but you, he’s been selfish for the past year by keeping you tucked away.

Not even Natasha and Sam know the details, all they know is that he found a reason to stay in the shittiest little town on the planet.

When his phone rang, he was surprised to hear Bruce, half-expecting and half-hoping for it to be Tony.

It didn’t take long for him to get into that mindset again, to be the captain that everyone needed. First on his list was to meet Natasha and Sam, they probably already know what happened in New York while you and this town couldn’t be more clueless.

That’s why he loved it here.

He wanted to take you with him, but he couldn’t consciously put you in danger. He was fortunate enough to be unrecognizable in this place and he can only imagine the shock when you realize who he really is.

You didn’t even know his last name, he was just Grant, the man who moved in next door and had accidentally got your mail one too many times.

He tried to drop it off one afternoon but you never answered, so he scrapped the idea of respectful introductions and slipped it under your door. This went on for a few weeks, he learnt a bit about you—your name, and how you had plenty of friends from so many different places.

It made him wonder why you chose a town so tiny it fits into the palm of his hand.

One day, the yellow door swung open. You were standing there in an oversized t-shirt with a mug in your hand, “So it’s you.”

“Uh, yes?” He answers awkwardly, ducking under his cap as a force of habit. He’s been in town for over a month, yet no one has recognized him yet. A random stroke of luck. “I live next door, I keep getting your mail.”

“Paula is just getting up there with age, I don’t think she can read as well as before.” You take the envelopes, skimming through them before tossing them on the counter.

His gaze drags over your features, your hair and eyes, he takes notice of the sunlight shining around you like liquid gold. Okay, maybe he needs more friends if his heart is racing at the sight of a pretty woman.

“Why don’t you answer your door?”

“Heavy sleeper.” You yawn, “I work nights at the motel, and come back and sleep all day.”

“Oh,” when he realizes he’s still on his knees at your door, he quickly stands, dusting his jeans, “I’m—” Steve, “Grant, I’m Grant, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

You look between his face and his outstretched hand, a slow smile crawling onto your lips. You introduce yourself, shaking his hand. “I’ll tell Paula about the mail, hopefully, it won’t happen again.”

And when your door shut, he couldn’t help but hope it did.

The next time you met, it was because of a local stray cat.

It was the fourth night in a row that Steve was sitting on the park bench outside the apartment complex. The can of cat food sitting next to him, opened as the smell wafted to his nose. He taps his foot on the ground, checking his watch.

Then, the lobby door opens and you walk out, this time in a loose dress with a leash in your hand, and a familiar little animal by your side. Suddenly, that cat darts to the left.

“Inky, hey! Calm down!” The harness slips from your hand, making you jerk to the side and nearly lose your shoe in a jagged slab of concrete.

Inky? Steve doesn’t have a chance to question the name before the stray springs onto his lap, nudging his hand before finding delight in the canned food. “Hi, Rocky, how have you been, fella?”

You stumble in front of him, an apology on your lips before you notice that baseball cap atop long, blond hair.

“So it’s you again.” You squint down at him, “he’s supposed to be on a diet.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “what?”

“I thought he was getting a little thicker, and it’s because of you.” You crouch down beside the bench, untangling the leash from his stubby legs. “I’ve been feeding this guy for weeks, I noticed easily.”

“He’s a stray.”

“Not anymore, I adopted him.” You correct, “really recently actually.”

“But I’ve been feeding him since I got here.” Steve frowns, leaving out the fact that he’s also told many secrets to the animal, enough to even rival Bucky’s knowledge. “He’s—his name is Rocky.”

“Inky.” You sit next to him, reaching over to pet the cat, rubbing between his ears, one of them missing the tip. “I guess I can't take away your only friend…”

“I have friends.” Steve is quick to reply.

“In this town?” You ask skeptical, “I’ve never seen you leave your apartment, and no one else knows anything about you.”

That sparks his interest. “You asked about me?” He smiles, pink lips drew into a grin.

Your eyes widen before you turn away, and an odd bubbly feeling fills your stomach. You clear your throat, “Anyway, I suppose we can work out an arrangement, co-parenting this little thing can’t be that hard.”

You both decide on Inky spending weekends at Steve’s place, and somehow those rotating weeks turned into dinner invites that bled into nights on your couch, talking about yourselves and nonsense.

And soon he was walking into your apartment unannounced, making you dinner before you woke up to go to the motel, and later, he’d be there when you returned in the early hours, sleeping on the couch with Inky on his chest.

Your first kiss was on that very bench too. You took Inky (or Rocky) to watch the sunrise on one of your days off, and Steve couldn’t look away from you.

He likes to think that he made the first move, but he knows that’s wrong.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers before peering up at him with those soft, tired eyes. When your lips met, it was like everything had suddenly made sense—the steady growth from neighbours to friends, then to kissing on the park bench at seven in the morning.

It only made it harder to leave you.

At least Steve knows that in every lifetime, he’d choose you.

In a way, he believes he has met you a million times and yet this is the one when he becomes aware of it.

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.”

What an honour it would be—but that could be his inner masochist speaking.

In those million times, he’s chosen you every chance, and that little voice of doubt asks if you chose him too—or if he just got lucky this time.

Of course, you did, you’ve told him every day. In different ways, quiet ways, by waking him up with a massage, dancing with him in the kitchen, and sitting still for hours while he sketched you.

Steve didn’t work, his excuse was a hearty inheritance from his family, but in truth, he had a few duffel bags filled with cash that he withdrew before going on the run. Being in this town for a year has barely made a dent in it, and he can see himself spending days on end here, with you, and with Rocky.

Everything he’s going to do is for the long run, so he can come back and hold you in his arms, bathe in your glow and feel it igniting his cells. There’s nothing like it, like being with you.

He almost hesitates when getting into his rental, his hair falling into his face as he stares at your opened windows, the breeze flutters your curtains.

You got back from work a few hours ago, your final moments together were spent in the bathtub as he had you once last time, touching and feeling you against his skin. Then, he carried you to bed, memorizing every inch of your face before he cooked you dinner for when you woke up, alone.

He’s left you the keys to his car, placed the duffel bags outside your bedroom and the letter on your nightstand. Rocky was following him around until he shut the front door, locking it and sliding the key into his pocket. He could hear his quiet meows through the wood, alternating between pleading and curious, as if he were asking, “Where are you going? Why are you leaving”

The blistering heat is going to be cruel the next few days and he fixed your air conditioner the previous night, but you won’t know until you read the letter.

Right now, he doesn’t even know what it was. An apology, or a promise, it felt cowardly if anything—could it be his final words? Not the last one, he dreads that sheet of paper being the last piece of him in your life.

When Steve returns to the town, his confidence in the dry dirt, and any resilience is swept away with the snap of golden fingers. Natasha nearly flew straight over it, mistaking it for being a ghost town.

After getting off the jet, reality settles in. Less than half of the inhabitants remain, and he’s only spotted a handful, all wearing matching expressions of confusion and despair.

He races up to your apartment, shouting your name and banging on the door but he receives no reply.

As if the world had been sucked of colour, the yellow of your door isn’t as fresh as he remembers. The corners are crackling, and more importantly, the doorknob is different.

The key he’s guarded feels heavy, and all of sudden, his chest constricts. The air is thin, barely supplying enough for him to stay upright before he braces himself on the doorframe. God, even the smell is different—it doesn’t feel the same, it feels off.

That impurity wraps around his ankles, yanking him into the darkness and he reaches for something, anything, which happens to be the tattered welcome mat under his feet. The new key is shiney, gleaming up at him like a cruel reminder of how much he truly hurt you.

He almost thinks you left too. Abandoned this town because your voracious appetite for freedom won again, and there wasn’t anything left for you here so you went to search somewhere else.

This town was in your past, just like the rest.

But no, this is far worse. This is a nightmare.

There’s a cellphone on the couch, and an old television on your coffee table, the price tag still stuck to the side and it’s on, it plays reruns of the news from a neighbouring city, it’s fuzzy and full of static but he can make out the headline.

“Billions of Mysterious Disappearances Worldwide.”

Half of the world, half of the universe is gone. They lost.

He forces himself to look away, wiping the tears from his eyes to focus on something else. Despite the new devices, the duffel bags are still sitting untouched, unopened and full.

The dishes are left in the sink, trash is in the bin, and the windows are closed with the dull hum of the air conditioner filling the room.

Then, he spots the half-empty glass of water on the table, the condensation dripping onto the wooden surface.

Tentatively, he calls your name once more. He’s in denial, the syllables hammering into his head as he waits for you to answer—for you to appear in disbelief as he stands in your living room, dressed in a dirty navy uniform with a cut above his brow, and blood on the corner of his mouth.

Steve waits and waits until the final plane of glass beneath his feet breaks, and with that, his heart falls into the depths. It crashes into the ground, lying in a bed of memories and anguish.

He sinks into the couch, clenching his gloved fists, the television fades away as his final string of hope is severed.

First Bucky, then Sam, and now you.

Your apartment is empty, void of any life, or so he thinks before he hears quiet patters on the hardwood before a small, furry creature enters his view.

His right ear is missing the tip, his eyes glow with interest before he darts towards Steve, leaping onto his lap. He holds that cat like he’s a lifeline, burying his nose into his fur, soaking the coat with more tears.

There’s a collar around his neck, Inky/Rocky is carved into the metal plate, along with your address.

There are footsteps in the hall, then Natasha is standing at the door, holding her hip with a pinched expression. She has dried blood on her cheeks, and her blonde hair is messy.

They rushed here, barely having time to collect themselves before Steve was madly hunting for a jet. Right now, she didn’t have to ask any questions to know the answer. Her green eyes survey your apartment, the signs of your abrupt disappearance are all too obvious.

There are only a few picture frames hooked on the walls, but all of them have Steve and you, a few even have that little cat too. Steve looks happy in those frozen moments in time, smiling so casually while always touching you—you’re in his lap, under his arm, or pressed against him until not a sliver of air is between the both of you.

To her, this apartment feels homey, no temporary pressure hangs over, just potential. Something planned but not to the book, a simple promise for more.

If she had to name it, she’d pick the word tomorrow.

There was going to be more here, or there was going to be more that came from here. Whether it moved to another place, there was going to be more, that was definite.

And meeting Steve’s eyes, she knows she’s correct in more ways than one. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

He knows, and he is too, but not for himself.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and there we go !! wrote most of this one night while listening to Lana and i’m very proud of how it ended out, i haven’t written much angst here yet so here’s to the future !! And of course, free to send asks about this fic !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

1K notes · View notes

grippingbeskar · 1 year

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lego house

: ̗̀➛ frank castle x fem!reader

warnings — mentions of death, loss, canon typical violence, a lil splash of angst, no smut tho i was in the feels

a/n — i don’t know where this came from but lego house by ed sheeran came on and the words are so beautiful even though it’s an old song, like it’s just gorgeous and now i think it’s frank coded so here you go! hopefully this makes sense, i wrote it sitting in my car before going to the gym so i’m a bit wired on pre workout heheheeh okay bye. by the way it’s not timed to the song, but if you play it over while reading the fic i feel like it’s a nice effect. or don’t!! whatever floats ya boat 💞

✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬

— i’m gonna pick up the pieces, and build a lego house. if things go wrong we can knock it down…

“Hey. Look at me. Look at me—“ You can’t see anything past the burning tears in your eyes. It’s another trick, something that isn’t real but it feels so real, sounds so real… fuck, even his hands feel the same. He couldn’t be here, though. He couldn’t be here— “I’m here, baby. Look at me. Please.”

“I miss you so bad, Frank. I don’t—“ You suck in a rough breath, air cracking it’s way down your throat through shuddered heaves. “I don’t know why I thought I could do it. I thought I could fix it… fix it for you. But I wasn’t strong enough. They’re gonna break me Frank. They— they know how.”

“Just open your fucking eyes, sweetheart. Please. Please… open those eyes. Come on…” Frank’s breath in on your face. You don’t want to open them, because you know what you’ll see. Frank’s body, twisted into a mangled corpse. Dead. It’s what they keep showing you, what these people know will drive you to insanity.

You can smell him, though. A mix of dirt and that bright pink laundry detergent you forced him to buy. How did they know he smells like… “Come on. Come back, baby. Fuck.”

“They keep showing me you. I can’t keep seeing you, Frank. Not when I know you aren’t—“ You hiccup on a sob, feeling the pain everywhere.

You’d begged them to break your bones, tear your teeth out one by one. Anything would be less painful than this. Feeling his hands, rough and so fucking sure of themselves, cupping your face gently. Almost like they know you. This pain wasn’t one you could take any more of.

“You’re dead. You… you aren’t real. I failed. They— god, they hurt you so bad, Frankie. I’m so—“ You choke again, on your own inhale.

“No, no no no. Just look at me. Look at me right now, I promise you I’m here. Please.” His voice cracks, and you can’t bare it. He’s calling you, whispering your name in a shattered song you can’t ignore. Even if it means seeing it for the last time. Falling into oblivion and never resurfacing. Even if you knew you shouldn’t.

It was Frank. And he wanted you to open your eyes.

So you did.

— i’m gonna paint you by numbers, and colour you in. if things go right we can frame it, and put you on a wall.

Frank held you together. His hands were never strong enough, arms never warm, body too hard, but he held you as best he could.

He could see what they’d done to you. Whatever it was, your mind was scrambled— you could hardly tell left from right, and you kept begging for him to stay. Frank didn’t think there was anything that could break him much anymore, but that fucking voice, those eyes rimmed with tears… that wouldn’t leave him.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Stay right here with you, okay?” He gathers your bruised, marred body and tucks you into him. Even like this, your head naturally falls under his chin.

He buried his face into your hair. He breathes in deep, knowing you were under him, alive, and he’d get you for even just another moment— it allows him that one breath. His arms pull you against his chest, your skin cold but shivering. Alive. Alive. Alive.

“Frank…” You sigh. Your body shudders, and Frank runs with you. Like you were never there, he carries you up and out of the hellhole they had you in, and brings you into the light. Sunshine glitters on your skin, and Frank can’t take in the sight. You were losing blood… losing yourself. “You can’t be here. I k-know you aren’t real.”

“Shh. Shh, just keep your eyes open. You’re okay. I’m here.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You weren’t wrong. They nearly killed him. They broke his ribs, knocked out his teeth, gutted him so bad he swore he was in half. But he made it out. He crawled and dragged his way out of there, because you needed him. You mumble something else, and then your eyes roll back, and you’re gone again.

— i think the braces are breaking, and it’s more than i can take.

“Please. Please. You have to come back, baby. You gotta come… please.” Your hands were gathered in his, lips pressed to battered knuckles as he prayed to you like a deity. You couldn’t believe how real it felt.

You managed to open your eyes— you think. They were dry, and you wanted to close them again, but this sight was different. All you’d seen for the past week was his body. Tied to a chair. Beaten and not moving. But this… he wasn’t covered in red here. He was pale, almost, but his hair was dark and grown out. Nearly curly, if he let it get longer.

He said something, but the sound was muffled by you crying. As heavenly as the sight was— and it was, it wasn’t real. And you couldn’t bare it.

“Stop! Just stop— I can’t see him anymore! Please!” You scream to whoever’s listening, and the mirage of your deepest desire, the constructed image of your hearts one reason to pump any more blood through your veins, it moves with you. “This is more than I c-can take. Please, just make it stop.”

“It’s okay, I’m here. Can’t you see me?” Franks voice is soft as you sob, pulling your hands away from him. It’s mean— cruel, the way he feels so warm, and it feels so wrong to pull away. You want to fall into him.

“Can you make it stop, Frank?” You don’t recognise your voice. It’s shattered, like a broken vase under Franks leather boot. He looks at you, and your breath catches.

It always does when he looks at you.

He doesn’t let you get far. Mirage Frank yanks your arms back, the right one searing in pain, but you don’t think about it. All you think about is feeling him. How you can feel the cold, wet slip of his tears over your fingertips as he holds you against his cheek.

You shouldn’t be able to feel that.

It killed you, in all those images they sent of him. He was cold, and didn’t feel like Frank anymore. He wasn’t him.

“I’m here. I am. Why…” He looks away, and you want to scream again. His palms are warm, calloused in a way you have mapped out. Why isn’t he looking at you? “Why’s she still like this?! You said you could fucking fix it!”

You squeeze his hand, and he stops yelling. You shake, shudder. It’s not real. It can’t be real. It’s another trick— a cruel, horrible trick that the fire under your palm is really, truely your Frank. That he horsely whispers your name, and you stretch your fingertips higher, grazing his cheekbone.

“There you are, baby. You see me?” He’s so gentle, and it hurts so bad. Your arm, your heart. It can’t be real. This is too much. You… you have to ask. You have to. You were weak, and scared, and you had to ask again. Is this real? Are you my Frank, or are you going to fade away again? Please….please be mine.

“Please…” Is all you manage to form, and light brightens the room. You were on your side, and he comes closer. The bed dips— a bed. A bed. “What— no. This isn’t—“

“It’s real. Stop, it’s real. I’m fuckin’ real, sweetheart. Please just… don’t look away. Stay with me.” Your eyes were wide now, unrelenting and taking him in. You reach higher than his cheek, the curl of his hair hanging down his face. His hair… it wasn’t this long before.

His hair grew. It’s longer. Nearly touching his eyebrow. He… he was here.

“Oh, god. Frank.” You sob, and there’s no pain when there should be. You yank and grab and pull at whatever living part of him you can find, which is everything. You thread your hands through his soft hair— feeling it. A sign of life and the living parts of him you can see and hold.

You feel the way he curls against you, dwarfing you. Murmuring words on your skin, kissing you wherever he can reach. You’d move if you could, but you can’t go anywhere but into him. You want to claw your way to his middle and make a home there, feel the beat of his heart against your ear for an eternity and then some.

“I thought you—“

“Shh. Please, just stay with me.” He muffles the broken words into your hair, and you remember them.

You begged him to stay with you. Every-time you were sent those images in your mind, a technology you still couldn’t understand, of Frank crumpled and clinging to life, you’d beg him to stay, and he would fade through your fingers every time. He never spoke, just looked at you, and faded away.

This one begs for you. He says your name, pulls you close, clings to you like you are a lifeline that could reel him to the safety of your arms. It’s how you remember him holding you. It feels… real. You just nod back, shuffling so your head slotted under his jaw.

if you’re broken i’ll amend ya, and keep you sheltered from the storm that’s raging on.

“They broke me. I—“ You choke on your words, and Frank shushes you. “They made me think you were dead. They kept me down there for weeks and messed with my brain… I saw you dead, Frank.” You whisper after a while. You still couldn’t believe it was real. That he was real, his fingers dancing along your spine. “I shouldn’t of run. I’m sorry, I just thought if I could get rid of them you’d… fuck, I can’t see straight.”

“Shh, don’t try talk. You’re okay. We’ll fix ya. I got you.” You trust him. The warmth of his words travel low, over your neck and down your chest, nestling in your crumpled excuse of a heart. It beats a little harder at the intrusion, welcoming it with open arms. “You’ll get better. I’ll be here.”

“I’ll get better.” Repeating the words, hearing them from your own charred voice makes you solid in this reality. You don’t know what you did to deserve this type of warmth, but you cling to it tightly. You’ll never let it go again. “How… how did you find me? You were so…broken.”

“I’ll always find you. Hell or high water. I’ll come for you.” You were fading into exhaustion, out of touch with where you were, but in his arms you felt safe. A wave of it came over you— love. It was scary, but you allowed it to wash over your mind and body, feeling it seep into you. The tides of it’s meaning covering you like a blanket, the fear nothing like the feeling of loss.

You dont know if you’d ever of admitted it before— this feeling. If he ever would. Maybe it took nearly losing each other to be reminded of how important this way. You’d both tried to drift along in the storm, but it was over now, and you had to face it.

Frank feels it, too.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here, but there’s no light anymore when your eyes flutter open and he speaks again.

“I… I never told you. That—“ he swallows.

“Yeah. Me too.” You press your lips to his sternum, the place where he’s surely locked your own heart away with his.

“Yeah?” You nod, kissing him there again. His fingers thread in your hair, holding you closer, but it’s impossible. It’s the wanting of it, though. To be as close as possible, as if you could be pushed together and merged to one.

You drift to sleep, both clutching each other even when you’re deeply unconscious. Maybe it took the end of the world to get here, but you think that it was worth it. The end of the world would be worth it a thousand times over if he was at the peak, because you know what it’s like without him. And no world is worth that.

and out of all these things i’ve done, i think i love you better now.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel tv #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #marvel #the punisher x y/n

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groovebunker · 3 months

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cc x fran fic masterpost

been meaning to do this for a little while - indulge me so i can pin it.

ongoing work

it's all there in black and white [teen - 4/?]

when newspaper editor maxwell sheffield wants to introduce an advice column, he pairs veteran political reporter cc babcock up with his newest hire, fashion columnist fran fine. the only problem? cc wouldn't take her own advice at gunpoint. oh, and she hates fran's perfect face and stupid laugh and general existence. there is that. aka the agony aunt au.

chapter one -- chapter two -- chapter three -- chapter four

i only liked a lot of things before i knew (the way i love it when you touch me now) [explicit - 1/2]

cc admits she's never been with a man who got her off. fran's nothing if not persistently helpful.

chapter one

can't reach the moon up above, don't dare touch the fire [explicit - 1/?]

cc's never been sure how to want things. fran's determined to show her how.

chapter one

what would you do?

what would you do (if they never found us out?) [explicit - 11/11]

after what was supposed to be a one time thing in the wine cellar, cc and fran find they can't keep their hands off of one another. but it's only because neither of them can get maxwell. right?

i. how it started -- ii. furious -- iii. do you trust me? -- iv. beautiful -- v. missed you -- vi. promises -- vii. i'm glad you're here -- viii. i've got you -- ix[a]. only bought (you) this dress so i could take it off. -- ix[b]. needing -- x. what would you do if they ever found us out

what would you do (the vignettes) [explicit]

i. the smoke gets in your eyes -- ii. while you were sleeping

the latke-verse

i like you (a latke) [teen - completed - 1/1]

fran doesn't want to show up to her ma's chanukah party alone. cc's fed up of seeing her sad since she got back from paris. no ulterior motives here, none at all. aka the fake dating chanukah fic.

seventh time is (hopefully) the charm [teen - completed - 1/1]

cc gets some help with valentine's breakfast.

won't you?

won't you just let me pretend that this is the love that i want? [teen]

there's a lot of things cc and fran never talk about. until they do.

won't you just show me the love that i need? [teen]

cc's never been good at being needed. unless, obviously, fran needs her.

won't you just give me the love that i long for? [mature - in progress - 1/2]

chapter 1

should be over all the butterflies [teen]

a series of vignettes set in the won't you universe.

august two thousand and nine: the fence -- two thousand and six: crossword -- two thousand: the beginning -- two thousand and three: the first time

one-shots (for now)

trick or treat (or: how cc babcock learnt to enjoy halloween) [mature]

c.c. does not like halloween. fran's absolutely not going to stand for that.

fran fine, sweater thief [teen]

five times fran wears c.c.'s sweater and one time c.c. turns the tables.

wise men followed the star (the way i followed my heart) [explicit]

when the phone rings at 11 on christmas eve, fran doesn't expect cc on the other end.

i want your midnights [teen]

c.c. does leave maxwell but that's not the only reason she runs away from the sheffield house. when she and fran end up at the same new year's eve party, can she convince herself to stand still?

i still see it all in my head (burnin' red) [teen]

soulmate au: the world is black and white until you see your soulmate for the first time. or: how red becomes c.c. babcock's favourite colour.

three minutes [teen]

fran finds someone unexpected on the other side of the table when val accidentally takes her to lesbian speed dating. unexpected but not necessarily unwanted.

#fran x cc #cc x fran #francc #the nanny #my fic #making this to pin #wwyd

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it-was-funeral-grey · 1 year

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Realisations in mess (Al Haitham x F!Reader)

Masterlist Part 5 Part 6

Summary: you're finally home! But what is this mess? clean up + cooking with alhaitham basically

Warnings: vulgarities, trashed up house (matra's fault), reader's ankle is sprained, cleaning up, alhaitham spewing out absolute bs, they eat an onion lol (no joke i was far gone when i wrote that part), sword,

Word count: <3.4k

Inspired by:-

Author's note: im learning how to make gifs! also im not sure if its obvious, but this is gonna be a 'slowburn' type of story!

Thank you everyone for your comments and encouragement! I can;t thank you all enough!

as usual i hope this is ok i tried

Please give criticism! Also, if i missed any warnings, do tell me so i can add them!

Her house is a fucking mess.

Al Haitham can try, but he can't recall what her house looks like. But he knows it's not supposed to look like this.

Archons, what the hell did the Matra do?

He doesn't stop her when she unslings her arm from around him. Instead, he holds the door open as she hobbles into her living room. He hears her let out a defeated sigh, but when she turns around to face him, she smiles.

"Well, at least I'll have something to do this afternoon," she looks around with pursed lips. "Been thinking of rearranging stuff anyway!"

Her cheerful tone doesn't fool him. It's as clear as day that she's beyond upset at the state of her home.

"You're...going to clean up this mess on your own?" she can't be serious. The place is completely trashed (is that...Harra Spice on the floor?). "Just you. With your sprained ankle."

"Well, you did see the looks that the neighbours gave me," no, he didn't. He was focusing on other things. Like making sure she leans her weight on him, not her ankle. "I should probably keep to myself for now," she replies, her eyes downcast. "Hopefully, whatever rumours about me will die out soon."

With that, she squats down, picking up a book off the floor.

Huh, now that he thinks about it, there are a lot of books here (and yes, that's definitely Harra Spice on the floor.). And no, not notebooks or record books. Actual books- look, there's a book on languages over there and a thick book about Liyue Adeptuses right next to it. Al Haitham has never seen another house with this many books (apart from his own). In fact, most of her living room floor is covered in them, ripped from their bookshelves which lay not too far away from them.

It must have taken her years to collect this many books. He's impressed that she managed to keep them all hidden all this time.

"I'll be fine, really," her voice strains as she reaches for another book. "Thank you for helping me back! And for everything else."

Al Haitham's moving before he knows it. One second he's standing up, looking down at her picking up her books. The next, he's dropping his overnight bag and squatting down, grabbing her book for her.

"Oh! Thank you."

"You need to rest your ankle," Al Haitham states, reaching over to take the book already in her hands. "Stand up."

Moving over to her, he gestures for her to sling an arm over him before standing up with her.

"There's no way you're going to be able to clean up this mess," he unslings her hand gently before walking over to her overturned couch. "I'll help."

"Ah! It's fine," she hobbles over to him, but he's already flipped her couch over. "You must be busy. I can-"

"It's lunchtime now. Everyone's on break."

"Then you should be taking a break too!"

"I've already done so on the boat."

"Well, what about your lunch? I didn't see you eat anything."

"I had a heavy breakfast."

"That's not lunch."

"Sit down and rest your ankle."

"Hey! Did you hear what I just said?"

Despite your protests, you're grateful you won't have to clean up this mess alone.

"How do you arrange your books?" Al Haitham asks as he lifts your last toppled bookshelf back upright. "By topic? Height?" He then shoots you a wary glance. "…Colour?"

"Topic, then by height," you reply, feeling slightly useless as you sit on the couch with a newly bandaged ankle (courtesy of Al Haitham). "Wait, colour? Do people do that?"

"You'll be surprised," he chuckles, and you see his shoulders relax. "There exists a certain individual that insists on making it their personal mission to convince others to arrange their bookshelves that way purely 'for the aesthetic'," he picks up a red book off the floor, running a hand over the slightly dented cover. "You have a lot of books here."

"Do… you find it strange?" you ask meekly. You wouldn't be surprised if he did. Hardly anyone in Sumeru used books, much less kept them thanks to the (recently abolished) Personal Book Act. This wouldn't be the first time a visitor judges you about it.

"Not at all," Al Haitham replies, flipping through the book gently. "I'm just surprised that you read," he stops at a folded page. "Almost no one reads in Sumeru. Not even Akademiya scholars. All they relied on was the Akasha terminals."

He balances the book in a hand and shuts it.

"I'm impressed that you managed to get your hands on this many. The Akademiya doesn't print any books. And there aren't any bookstores in Sumeru."

He passes the red book to you, and you swear his lips curve upwards for a fraction of a second.

"It's well written, but the author gives no evidence to back up his hypothesis. It's pure speculation on his part."

"You've read this before?"

"It's a title in the House of Daena," he explains, bending down to pick up another book and reading its title. "Although it's better off as a storybook."

"The House of Daena has books about Liyue?" you ask. The book in your hands is a Liyue publication which took you many pains to obtain. If there's an easier way to get access to such books-

"Definitely," he seems intrigued by your enthusiasm. "Many darshans' studies involve learning about other cultures and regions. So, books on such topics would be provided. Although whether the students want to read them is a different story."

So they'll have books about Liyue Law! You haven't been able to get your hands on any thus far.

He picks up a few more books off the floor and places them on a bookshelf nearest to him.

"You have a lot of books on Law. And Liyue."

"Ah! Yeah," his observation shocks you back into reality. "I…actually wanted to study in Liyue's Law School."

"Wanted?"

"Well, you know," he turns to look at you, and you look away. You know you won't be able to control the disappointment written all over your face if you talk about this. "Times aren't exactly the best now. Money is tight right now, with inflation and all. So…"

"I see."

"Yeah," you sigh and quickly plaster a smile, as you turn back to him. "But it's alright. I can still read about it! There are many more books in the House of Daena, so I'll borrow them!"

"…You can only borrow books if you're a student or teacher at the Akademiya."

"Oh."

It takes Al Haitham about an hour to finally get all the books off the ground and into a somewhat orderly manner. The floor is much more empty now, save for shards of glass and foodstuff amongst overturned furniture. Al Haitham knows that the Matra are thorough in their investigations, but wrecking a house to such an extent in search of evidence is seriously going overboard.

He's going to have a long talk with the Matra stationed at Port Ormos when he gets there.

"Here?" Al Haitham asks the lady standing next to him. She's insisted on helping, against his protests. Eventually, they came to a compromise- he'll carry and arrange the books, and she'll point out where to put everything.

"Yep! These few are fine- ok, switch those two," she instructs. "Everything else is in order. Thank you!"

"Where's the broom?" Al Haitham asks, kicking a shard of glass away from her. "There's glass everywhere."

"It must be the bottle of Harra Spice I bought," she hobbles past the dining table over to the kitchen, Al Haitham following closely behind her. "I bought some groceries the day before I got arrested. I left it on the dining table and… forgot to unpack it."

She didn't forget. Al Haitham takes the opportunity to quickly pick up the chairs and push them under the table, which she thanks him for. She was taking care of me and didn't have the time to put it away.

They both ignore the splinters of wood that fall out when he moves the chairs.

"I'm sorry about this whole mess," Al Haitham sighs. It doesn't matter how he tries to reason with himself. No matter what, this whole situation is his fault. And it leaves a really bad taste in his mouth that she's the one paying the price for it. "I'll be sure to pay for whatever damages there are."

"None of this is your fault," she quickly retorts, grabbing the broom's handle…which immediately detaches from the broom's head. "And like I said," she reaches for the broom head, but Al Haitham beats her to it, taking the handle from her as well. "I've been thinking about rearranging the place anyway!"

Yeah. Rearranging, not refurbishing. Past her shoulder, he sees the wrecked kitchen. And shards of broken tableware among other objects sprinkled all over the floor. She's going to need to replace a lot of things.

"Still, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you-"

"If you really want to make it up to me, take care of yourself and don't faint in front of a random person's house again!"

"I'll do my best."

"Is…that a yes or a no?" her head tilts as she frowns, eyeing him puzzledly. "And wait! Do your best to not do that or to do that?"

And out of nowhere, Al Haitham feels the sudden urge to 'push it', as Kaveh call it. Just to see how she'll react. For research purposes.

"Celestia wills the movement of the mountain and hills." he recites an old rhyme while observing her increasingly perplexed expression with great interest. The rhyme was just his grandmother's way of saying that no one knew what the future held- except fate.

"…what?"

"May the stars align your wish alongside their plans."

"???"

The good news is that cleaning your kitchen didn't take very long. The bad news is that you pretty much have to buy a new set of almost everything for your kitchen.

No, you're not joking. All you could do was grab things off the floor and counter and throw them into the bin. It hadn't taken long for you to realise that the Matra had destroyed almost everything, save for your stove and sink, a dented, but still usable pot, a single onion and a small bottle of oil.

Nothing else was spared. Not your tableware. Not your bottles of sauce. Not any of your newly bought ingredients. And most definitely not your bottle of Harra spice.

"This should be the last of it," Al Haitham re-enters the kitchen with a fully filled dustpan. "You need any help in here?"

"No, I'm done here," you groan. The Matra had destroyed all your groceries for the week. Do you even have enough Mora to buy food again this week? "Squeaky clean!"

"…and empty."

"Don't remind me," you grumble, sitting on the counter. "How did they break so many plates? It's not even fragile! It's made of wood!"

"A hidden ability of overzealous and bored Matra, I suppose," Al Haitham says as he dumps the contents of the dustpan into your overflowing bin. "Is there anything else?"

"No, just my room. I'll settle that myself," you answer. Rubbing at your bandaged ankle, you sigh, leaning your head against the overhead cabinet. "Thank you for your help, really. I wouldn't have been able to clean this all on my own."

"It's no problem. How does your ankle feel?"

"It's alright. Doesn't hurt too much."

"That's good. Elevate it when you can."

"I will."

A peaceful silence washes over the two of you as you finally get some rest after cleaning the entire house. But all that's interrupted when your stomach suddenly rumbles.

Oh, Archons.

"I…I'm so sorry."

"Well, it is a little bit past lunchtime. How are you settling lunch?"

"I have an onion."

"Sorry?"

"I have oil too."

"You're going to eat an onion?"

"I gotta," you grip the onion in your hands. "But all my knives are broken, so I can't dice it."

"Can't you go out to buy some ingredients?" Al Haitham looks a little concerned. "You don't need to eat the onion."

"The only person who sells groceries these days is Bahram," you begin peeling the onion. "But he closes shop early. He should be closed right now."

"So, how are you planning on eating this…onion?"

"I'll try to fry it."

"You're just going to toss that whole sphere of onion onto a pan?"

"Well, I don't have a pan anymore so I'll use my pot," you grab your pot and place it over the stove. "Hopefully, it won't roll out."

"Now, hold on. Don't do that."

"I mean the other alternative is eating it raw, but-"

"Use this."

"Hm?" you pour some oil into the pot before turning to him. "What the he-"

"Calm down. You're going to spill the oil onto the floor."

"Where did that come from?!"

"From me."

Before you is a beautiful green blade, rounded by a white and gold spine. A majestic aura surrounds it- as if it belongs to a higher being. It almost looks too holy to touch.

"Here. Use it to dice the onion."

HUH.

"Waitjustholdonasecond," your words jumble as you struggle to understand his request. "You want me to take your fancy blade and use it to cut the onion?"

"Yes," he pushes the blade further towards you. "Go on."

"You can't be serious. I can't do that to your sword!"

"If it's hygiene you're worried about, I assure you that-"

"No, it's not that!" honestly, it kind of scares you how hygiene isn't your main concern here. "Your sword! I can't cut an onion with your sword! What if I break it?"

"If my sword breaks from cutting an onion, I wouldn't carry it around."

"You carry it around? Where? I didn't see- ok, I'm going off-topic," you sigh. "Are you sure I can use it? It looks really expensive and I don't wanna, uh, desecrate it."

"It's a sword. It's meant for cutting things," he takes the onion from you and slices it into two before handing it over to you. "You're using it as intended. I don't see the problem."

"If you say so…" he lets the blade go into your hands, and you jerk at the sudden weight. "Oh- Archons, how do you carry this?"

"You alright there?"

"Yep, yep, I- I'll be fine!"

Your onions end up more chunky than usual, but you'll take it. You heat up the oil (after trying to squeeze out every last drop of oil from the small bottle) and gently add in the onions later. The sounds of sizzling oil fill the kitchen, and you happily take in the scent emitting from the pot. After a while, you feel that it's time to stir it around so you-

Wait. How are you gonna stir it?

"Uh oh," you grab the handle of the pot, tilting it from one end to the other. But it's no use. The onions aren't flipping over. "Oh no."

"Hm?"

"I forgot I don't have a spatula. I can't flip it."

"Use the sword."

"I- fine. Use the sword."

The final product looks better than you expected. Golden brown onions lay on top of each other inside the pot and your mouth waters at the sight.

"You'll have to wait till the pot cools down a little," Al Haitham cautions as he places the pot on the dining table. "Or else you'll burn your hand when you reach in for a slice."

"Haha, no."

"Hey! What did I just say-"

You really can't help yourself. You're too hungry. Reaching into the pipping hot pot, you pinch a piece of onion and quickly toss it into your mouth.

"Ah- hwot-"

"Unbelievable."

"Take- a slice!" you say between blowing out hot air. "It tastes pretty good! Must be the fancy sword flavour."

"I'll take one when it cools down a little. So I don't burn my fingers and the roof of my mouth."

"Suit yourself."

And the two of you fall into another cycle of silence- this time only interrupted by the sound of you blowing out hot air and Al Haitham scoffing at the display before him. Eventually, the pot cools down, and he takes up your offer and grabs a piece.

"What do you think? Pretty good, right?"

"It's good."

"That's all you have to say about the onions your sword painstakingly chopped?" you hold your chest in fake shock. "How dare you, good sir!"

"Well, my sword seems happy enough," he plays along, reaching a hand out. In an instant, the blade materialises. "I don't see any dissatisfaction from it."

"Woah!"

And then the blade disappears. And his hand is again as empty as your kitchen is.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what? Keep my sword?"

"Yeah! And make it reappear!"

"Well…"

The rest of your meal is spent happily chatting and making the poor man materialise and keep his blade over, and over again.

As selfish as it sounds, you don't want him to go. Because the moment he does, you'll be alone in Vimara Village, with nothing but rumours to keep you company.

But he has a job to do- an important one, at that. He's Sumeru's Acting Grand Sage. He's not a friend.

"I think it's about time I take my leave," he finally says, snapping you out of your train of thought. Standing up from his shaky chair, he grabs his overnight bag. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Not at all," you reply, slowly standing from your chair as well. "I'm sorry that I couldn't host you under better circumstances."

"Would you happen to know where a certain Dilawar lives?" he asks. "I was told that he lives here."

Ah, so that's why he's here.

"Mr Dilawar lives not too far from here. Just head upwards from here and stop at the second house from the bridge," you answer. "Are… you here to fix Port Ormos?"

"Yes," he replies. "The closure of the port is not a problem I can ignore. Discussing the current state and future of the port with the trade supervisors is a crucial step in fixing the problem."

"Well, if you're on the case, then there's nothing for us common folk to worry about," you let out a relieved sigh. "With you as the Acting Grand Sage, Sumeru is in good hands."

"…Thank you."

You walk him to your front door, and he pauses outside for a moment to look back at you.

"Make sure to rest your ankle."

"I will."

"Keep a look out for any shards of glass on the floor. I may have missed them."

"I highly doubt that, but alright."

"And," he pauses again, looking over at your bookshelves. "Don't give up hope on going to Law school."

"Eh?"

"You must have taken a lot of effort to collect and read through all those books," he says. "It'd be a pity if all that effort went to waste."

He stands a little straighter, looking you in the eye this time.

"This is a temporary issue. Don't let something like that ruin a lifetime of fulfilment."

With that, he turns around.

"Well then, see you."

"Ah! Yeah, see you."

And he walked off.

"Well, you know," she doesn't turn away fast enough for Al Haitham to miss that crushed expression of hers. "Times aren't exactly the best now. Money is tight right now, with inflation and all. So…"

"I see."

So, it's a money issue. The reason that she's giving up her dream is because of money.

Like hell he's going to let that happen.

He'll solve it. He'll fix Sumeru's entire economy. He'll force the port open with his own two hands.

Just get that look off her face.

Join the Taglist!

Tagged: @sh3wholiv3s @simpcreator @confusedparticle @quintessentialdreaming @icedlemontea03 @levisbebe @anxious-piece-of-bread @confused-red-head

#hereandnow #alhaitham genshin impact #al haitam x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham #alhaitham #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin alhaitham

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alemonyoyo · 4 months

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No Country for Young Humans - Chapter 8.5

I am officially back at school, attending my final year of high school! I will be busy, chapters will come out very infrequently!

To tide you over, since I am exhausted, have this short little bit of actual PLOT!!! (IK not just North Star fluff, dw, that will come soon).

Also, I'm drifting a little from the UTY fandom (yeah, uh oh) but I definitely DON'T wanna abandon this fic!

Worse comes to worse, I'll finish it swiftly, and do my best to still make that entertaining. This is the longest fic I think I've ever wrote, most of my other stuff is oneshots!

Sorry about all that, hopefully you can enjoy this very short snippet of what's to come (maybe heh).

Missed the previous chapters? Check out the Masterlist!

Words: 552

Tags: GN Reader, Jealousy, Plot?

Summary: We shift to a new perspective as things unfold behind the scene.

Chapter 8.5 - A New Perspective:

There was a piercing sound in the air. It was faint, but persistent. Her ears, sharp as a dagger, picked up its sound all too well. As she fumbled with the equipment splayed out on the desk beneath her, she found her patience waning thin, the sound piercing into her skull, stabbing like the thick spears of the Royal Guard.

How could she let it get this far? How could she have been so stupid? She should have killed them right then and there when they walked into the Wild East, yet the look on his face; it healed all of her wounds, though only for a moment. She entertained this idea only to keep him happy, but it had been too long now to turn back.

Ceroba walked over to the vials of serum, each a pungent blue in colour, painfully standing out amongst the backdrop of muted greys. She had to do this. For Kanako. It was the only way to keep her alive.

Going through with this though, she thought, would ruin everything for him.

She had never felt so happy for him, the moment they admitted their feelings for him. That flustered look on their face, all bashful yet trusting in her company. They *trusted* her. Star trusted her. And she was going to throw that all away.

Finally, Starlo was going to feel the love she had always wanted him to experience, taken away from the years of torment she knew she put him through. She was happy then, and he was miserable. Now it was like night and day as she wallowed in a sea of misery. But he would be happy. He would finally be happy.

Ceroba clenched her fists tightly, walking over to the large, old TV. No- She can’t let this sway her. Surely Star would be happier knowing her child was safe and out of harm's way. Surely Star would be happier knowing she was happy? Surely she meant more to him? She pressed the small round button on the TV, knowing the tape was already loaded in the slot when she had last watched it. A sobering reminder of why she had to do this.

It wasn’t just for Kanako. It wasn’t just for Chujin. But for the fate of the world.

Well, that is what she told herself as she waited for the video to play, though she was only met with static. Ceroba smacked a pawed hand on the TV, growing impatient and frustrated as she sobbed out. This was too much! Too hard of a choice! Why was this her choice to make? Why couldn’t she have both? Why did they have to be human?

She ceased her abuse of the TV, instead pressing the eject button, waiting for the tape to shift out of the slot. She waited, the still ringing sound of the machines around her whirring in an annoying fashion. She heard the mechanics in the TV shift, the slot opening and pushing out the thick, heavy air. There was no tape, nothing at all.

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, reaching panicked hands into the slot, trying to slip down into the small slit. Empty.

Someone had taken Chujins tape which could only mean-

Someone knew.

***

“母？”

#undertale #uty #undertale yellow #uty north star #uty starlo #north star uty #starlo uty #starlo #north star #undertale yellow north star #undertale yellow starlo #starlo undertale yellow #north star undertale yellow #fanfiction #north star x reader #starlo x reader #north star uty x reader #starlo uty x reader #no country for young humans

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irishmammonagenda · 6 months

Text

Catholic MC Gets Sent into Hell?! Not Clickbait!!!!

content warnings: (i dont really think there is any?) biblical references + swearing maybe? if u see anymore lmk!

introduction, Part One, Part Two, Part Three

The morning frost lay crisp on the ground, crunching under MC’s feet, the black prim and proper school shoes did nothing to keep the cold out, if anything, it welcomed the cold in. Shivering, they continue on their trek into school, hopefully the miserable bastards would have the heating on for once.

What can be worse than going to a highschool?

Going to a grammar one.

And what can be worse than going to a grammar school?

Going to a catholic grammar school.

MC braved the cold for a moment more before the enterance to school grounds came up in front of them. They crossed the threshold. It was monday today so that meant it was oratory day,(not that the other days of the week werent, monday was just particularly long) or morning prayer in the small ‘church’ the school had within it, MC shivered but for a very different reason. Prayers were so mind numbingly boring.

Bracing themselves, they walked up the steps to the student’s enterance, their headphones drowning out the screeching of the lower years. It was too early in the morning for them to be starting with their bullshit

MC walked to their form class and sat in their assigned seat on their phone. Their friends’ buses wouldnt get in till later in the morning. They’d see them in or after morning prayer.

Speaking of which, they should head to the oratory now. It was almost time for it to begin, and no way was MC missing registration again. Their mum would throw a fit the moment she got the notification.

Begrudgingly, they walked down a few corridors, took several turns and began to ascend the stairs to the topmost part of the school. To the oratory. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. MC travels as slowly as their legs will carry them, wishing to prolong the time spent not having to do morning prayer.

Bracing themselves, they see the door to the ornate room in their direct path, all the colours of the rainbow and then some shine out through the stained glass windows, a beautiful mural to God's kingdom and all of his creations.

MC opens the door, but instead of stepping foot into the house of God, they fall into what can only be described as an abyss.

#obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me fanfic #obey me x catholic reader

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ghostflowerhotpotch · 11 months

Text

So I'll just tell myself all of the things I can't say to you yet (Fic)

Pairing: Ghostflower (Miles x Gwen.)

Chapter: 1/4.

Summary: On a scale from interested to desperate, where do you rank buying a plushie of your crush?

...Could she even still call this a crush?

As Gwen closed the portal behind her, she couldn't believe she has gotten away with it. When Miles invited her and the rest of their friends to Festival, she has been thinking about what type of music she would hear, what difference she could catch from her dimension- not this.

It has been kind of an impulse purchase, she has honestly been lucky that the money from her dimension seemed to be close enough to the bills in Miles’ universe; hopefully the seller wouldn’t have trouble depositing a glitching bill. It couldn't count as scamming someone, right?

“This was stupid,” She thought to herself, yet still hugging the brown bag against her chest, almost a bit too protective, not wanting anyone to see its contents.

She doesn’t know how she managed to hide it from Miles (or Pavitr, who was very curious about it- Gwen almost wonders if Hobie knew since he helped to move the conversation around,) or even get it without anyone else noticing. Gwen didn’t think she could come up with an excuse if any of them saw this.

But she was in her own dimension again, her dad wasn’t at home right now, which meant there was no one but her, and even in the safety of her own room, she didn’t want to look at it, as if getting it out of the bag would somehow be more incriminating than having it.

Still feeling a bit silly, she sits in her bed and finally, opens the bag and finally gets her precious cargo she has been so mindful of. On her left hand, there is a medium-sized, Miles' plushie.

It was spiderman themed, of course; she wasn’t sure how it worked, but multiple companies have started selling merchandise with his name and colours in it, even if he technically hasn’t signed anything. The quality wasn’t that good, a big head with a very fluffy body and limbs, it was kind of ridiculous.

Insanely cute though, almost as cute as him.

Groaning, she let herself fall in the bed “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered to herself as she put a hand on her forehead. Looking back, she glares at the plushie, almost as if it came home with her by itself rather than being her own idea. Sighing, she lies on her side and hugs the plushie.

She already bought the damn thing; she may as well embrace it.

Miles and she had been working on rebuilding their friendship. After months of silence, the secrets about canon and Miles’ Spiderman situation; they needed to take a step back and get a chance to breathe, especially for Gwen who was not just trying to rebuild her relationship with her dad, but catch on all the classes she missed on the meantime. Considering how things ended in HQ, she was honestly grateful Miles wanted to keep in contact after that fiasco.

There was just a small problem, her crush.

“Well, can I call it that anymore?” She thought bitterly to herself, as she looks back at the plushie that she was clutching against her chest. The little Spiderman just looked back at her; unlike the real one, there wasn’t a way to take that mask and look at his face. If she had more artistic abilities, she may have tried to find a way to give a face to the plushie.

God knows the only reason her notebook has half-made songs instead of drawings like Miles, is because she couldn’t draw like him.

Gwen wasn’t always upfront with what she was feeling, not even to herself. Part of her thought if she could pretend to be okay, those emotions would eventually leave her and she could continue her normal life. Except that it doesn’t; not with the guilt of losing Peter, not with the gaping hole that felt those months when she thought her dad hated her, and not with her feelings for Miles.

Everyone knows about his crush on her, or at least the feelings he used to harbour for her; ever since the whole situation with Miguel, Miles hasn’t been the same to her. He was still kind, and warm, but it didn’t feel like it used to be, even now.

What she has for him? It was still there, as strong as ever, and she was drowning in the feeling.

Part of Gwen wonders if the people around her had pretended not to know, or at least make it easier for her because she was in such denial she would try to shut down the topic otherwise. But Jess knew exactly what Gwen must have meant by "getting too close to someone," Miguel thinking Gwen was a liability thanks to her feelings for Miles (which was sorta right,) and Hobie- the guy probably figured out the tenth time she mentioned his name.

She has been insisting they were just friends, that it wasn’t that big of a deal; but she knows it wasn’t exactly Ham the one she has been missing all those months before finding the organization, and she wasn’t going to forget about monitoring a bad guy to spend an afternoon with Peter B.

It was kind of dumb, but she has been so glad that no one has pointed out that on a mission that would have been easy with the Spot literally out of ways to travel to other dimensions, she opened the portal right where Miles was as she ignored the bad guy until her watch screamed at her. While hugging the plushie even harder, she knows you don’t risk the multiverse just to catch on with someone, and you don’t sneak out to get a plushie of someone while obsessively making sure no one notices.

As she looked at the oversized head that mimicked Miles’s mask, she thought to herself when she was going to give up acting as if those feelings weren’t there, or it was as simple as a crush.

“I love you” She whispers for the first time, and somehow the phrase feels like it almost echoes in her mind. It feels right in her mouth, the truth she has been battling for so long.

Groaning, she looks to the roof “I’m so stupid.”

Because only someone like her would get into a mess like this. Loving someone from afar while not being sure if they could actually make it work, but wanting so badly to do it.

And yet still too scared to do anything that whispers the truth to a plushie.

Perhaps even after all this time, Gwen Stacy still only knew how to run.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Oh my g-d I am typing lines and dots as separation like this fanfiction net in 2011, jeez I am old.

So! I normally just upload my fics in ao3; however, as all we know (or so I assume because multiple communities are in shambles right now.) AO3 is down, and the best way to help is to not try to get in.

And it just so happens this fic that was supposed to be a one-shot became a short fic because the comments ended up inspiring me to do more.

The second chapter will be posted in a few moments, and the link to it will appear in this post and vice versa. The third chapter will be published on tumblr depending on how the ao3 situation goes and my mood.

Hope you like it! Leave a comment if you did, is the only reason this went past the first chapter.

Second Chapter here!

#ghostflower #gwiles #gwen stacy #miles morales #atsv #across the spiderverse spoilers #fanfics

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yelenasdiary · 2 years

Text

Enough || Part III

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Is it possible for you to give Wanda another chance or will it cause more damage than good?

18+ MINORS DNI! – I am NOT responsible for the content you consume online. I’ve provided warnings, if you refuse to acknowledge them, this is at your own risk.

Translation: miláčik (darling), srdiečko (sweetheart), dievčatko (baby girl), princezná (princess)

Key: e/c (eye colour)

AC: I love how this wasn’t intended to have a part 2 and now it’s got a part 3. Also, please bear with me Sokovia was bordered by Slovakia so Wanda speaks Slovakian in this. Enjoy! (this better not get me banned lmao)

“What do you want, baby?” Wanda asked, repeating the same words you asked her months ago. Still speechless your mind running with many different thoughts. Her eyes looked hopefully for a positive answer, but your mind was clouded with what ifs.

“I…. if you…I…Wanda” you stuttered trying to piece together your words, “I ca... I won’t be able to cope if you break my heart again. Everything you’re saying right now is just words and I was always told that actions speak louder than words”

“Give me a little time to show you, please…please don’t leave…if you go” her eyes built up with tears as you slowly pulled your hands out of her hold. “Y/n, I can’t lose you again”

Cold silence filled the room once again, this time you thought about things differently and wondered if giving her this once chance might be okay or would it ruin you even more. The hurt in her eyes gave you the same hurtful feeling you felt 7 months ago when she walked out the door, could you find it within yourself to do the same? Leave her with the broken heart to fix like she did to you? No, never.

“One chance” you spoke ever so softly, “Once chance Wanda, it’s all I can give you…” you added.

Wanda smiled lightly; her eyes showed a faint sparkle at your words. “Once chance” she repeated with a nod showing she understood that if she ruined this again, you’d never give her another.

“I should go…I have some things to sort out” you made the excuse, wanting to give yourself time to think and really be sure this was a good idea. “Yeah, sure” Wanda walked you to the door, “Y/n” she spoke as you walked out. You turned around and were met with her big green eyes once again, “I meant what I said…I will give you my all”.

A soft smile tugged on the corner of your lips before you left.

----

For a few weeks, Wanda took things slowly. She left mugs of hot coffee at your medical station every morning just moments before you arrived, so it was still hot. Then on your lunch break every second day she brought you over some lunch she’d make for you along with the two of you smiling at each other in passing.

Things eventually turned into more public affection. When the team had game night or a relaxing night with popcorn and movies Wanda would always invite you. She’d drape an arm around you when nobody was paying attention and every time she did so, you snuggled closer to her to soak up her body warm that would keep you warm in the winter. Soon you found yourself in her room some nights with take-out and card games and watching sitcoms together while cuddled up in her bed.

It would be a lie to say that you weren’t falling for her all over again although this time definitely felt different. A wave of love rushed through your body when she whispered sweet nothings to you while watching movies. You feel a sense of change deep within Wanda’s heart, but her eyes still begged for forgiveness.

“Wands”

“Yes miláčik?” she replied twirling a lock of your hair as your head rested on her shoulder. You loved when she spoke Slovakian, you missed it. She used to only speak it when you’d spent the night in her bed.

“Tony is holding another one of his parties and I wanted to know if maybe you’d come…with me?” you asked slowly lifting your heard to look at her.

“Are you sure? I want to of course but are you sure you want to take that step?” she looked into your eyes as you nodded. “I think we will be fine” you softly smiled.

“Well then, of course I will come with you” Wanda replied with a kissed on the top of your head.

----

You weren’t nervous about Tony’s party, but you could tell Wanda was. The two of you had been enjoying things as they were, just the two of you and her team working out that both of you were working things out together.

“You’re nervous” you watched Wanda put on her boots on.

“Not when I have you by my side” Wanda smiled up at you, “come on, we’ll be late” she added before grabbing her phone.

The party was crowded, no surprises there. You, Wanda, Natasha, Clint, and Thor stood together as a group, drinking your drinks, and laughing at Thor’s best Tony impression. Wanda slightly stood behind you with one arm around your waist, every now and then she’d whisper in your ear how beautiful you looked and how lucky she was to be here with you.

Everything was swell before Nat, Clint and Thor left you and Wanda alone for a while.

“Wanda? Oh my god! Wanda! Hi!” a young dark hair woman stopped in her tracks, she was beautiful and no doubt Wanda’s type. Wanda looked at her confused as if she didn’t know who she was. “It’s me” the woman smiled, “It’s Charlotte” Wanda still looked confused, “we met at Tony’s last party? I was work the bar” the woman added, your heart sunk once Wanda realised who she was.

“Oh, Charlotte, hi…uhm, how have you been?” Wanda asked with a fake smile.

“I’m good! It’s been how long? Agh, I had so much fun that night” she smirked making you roll your eyes and slightly shake of your head. Wanda felt you move slightly away from her; her eyes look at you with a look of sorry written over her face. “Uh, yeah, it was a good night” Wanda replied in an uncomfortable tone.

Charlotte lent in towards Wanda’s right hear and whispered something you couldn’t hear, the sound of plastic hitting the floor caught your attention. Your eyes dropped and saw a hotel key, Wanda’s eyes burned into you as Charlotte pulled away. “Oops! I’m always dropping things” Charlotte quickly covered up her sly attempt to hand Wanda the space hotel key.

“Y/n, srdiečko, let’s go. I think we could use a refill” Wanda reached for you which you ignored.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t aware you were here with somebody” Charlotte played off.

“I was literally standing next to Wanda but sure” you mumbled. Charlotte threw you a glare at your sarcasm.

“Y/n, please, let’s just go” Wanda’s hand still reached out for you, “please” she mouthed.

“I mean…if she’s not interest Wanda”

“Shut the hell up!” Wanda snapped at Charlotte giving her a glare that almost made her eyes flash red. To avoid a scene you grabbed Wanda’s hand, “let’s just go Wands” you looked at her.

Wanda gently led the two of you out of the party, to the cold hall just outside the room. “This is why I was nervous” Wanda starts.

“Why? Because there’s a handful of people you’ve slept with here?” you snapped.

“I know what it looks like, Y/n”

“You do? Good because I didn’t want to have to ask you if you slept with her the night, you turned your back on us!” anger filled your body as you recalled the night many months ago. “Did you serious sleep with her after I told you I loved you?!” tears filled your e/c eyes.

“No! I swear I didn’t! After I left that night…I got drunk, we had a few drinks, and she made a move, but I left. Nothing happened after that. We kissed and that was it” Wanda tried to explain.

“I knew this was a bad idea! I knew I should’ve just left!” you mumbled to yourself, taking a few steps away from Wanda.

“Y/n, please…don’t say that. We’ve been good recently, right? please don’t say this was a mistake”

“Wanda how can I believe you? She literally tried to give you her hotel key, right in front of me may I add” you turned to look at her once again.

“I was stupid, yes! But I’m not that low”

“What did she whisper to you?”

Wanda shook her head, “It doesn’t matter”

“What did she whisper Wanda? I want to know” crossing your arms over your chest. Wanda sighed, “she just said – “

“Word for Word” you cut her off.

“I miss the chats we shared and laughs we made. I came here hoping you’d be here, I’m still open for a night of fun if you are” Wanda looked you in the eyes as she repeated word for word, “then she tried to slide me her hotel key” she added.

“Is this what it’s going to be like? We’re at the mall and we run into another one of your one-night stands? Somebody you didn’t call back? People who want to repeat such a magical night with you?” uncrossing your arms and brushing your hair back behind your ear, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that when I said I’d give you another chance…and now I just- “

“Don’t say it…baby, please. Just forget about them, they mean nothing to me. You know this” Wanda stepped closer to you, her hands reaching for your hips. “I know I haven’t made things easy with this…I know we might get looks and whispers but honestly, let them. Let them whisper, let them look, let them run either mouth, let them be jealous that it’s you that I’ve fallen in love with” Wanda took the last step closer to you. Her hands rested on your hips; tear drops fell from your cheek.

“You…you said you liked me” your mind replayed the moment weeks ago when Wanda confessed, she liked you. Wanda nodded, “I did but I’ve realised that losing you and the thought of not seeing you anymore is a reality I don’t want, and I think about you all the time” she caused a smile to from on your lips, “dievčatko, I think about you every night before a fall asleep and your still on my mind when I wake up. Seeing you even just for a moment makes my heart skip a beat, I think that means I love you” Wanda added.

Any anger you had slowly faded away the longer you looked into her eyes. “You mean that?” you asked her, you just wanted to hear her say it again.

“I do” she placed a kiss on your forehead, “I love you Y/n” she looked back into your eyes. Not giving it a second thought, your lips met hers for the first time in a long time. You pulled her closer as she deepened the kiss, holding you a little tighter at your hips.

Only pulling away for air, you whispered against her lips, “let them talk, right?”

“That’s right, let them talk baby” she kissed you once again.

----

It was a little hard for the first few months when Wanda and you decided to make things official, going out for date night sometimes would be interrupted with a random person you’ve never seen before but they knew Wanda. She was nice to them but always kept the interactions short and sweet, always assuring to intro you to them.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/n” always made you flush, and Wanda knew it, she saw the red that filled your cheeks, and she took pride in that. Any chance she got; she showed you off as her partner. One days where she wasn’t doing Avenger stuff, you’d find her and you in her bed cuddling or outside taking long walks. Most of your nights were spent with Wanda, she held you protectively as you’d fall asleep in her arms. She cooked for you, she continued to bring you coffee and lunch, she waited for you at the end of each shift as you would wait for her at the helipad whenever she would return from missions.

Wanda just returned from a two-month mission, a wide smile on her lips the moment she saw you waiting.

“Hi baby” you smiled, pulling her in for a long passionate kiss.

“Mmm” she hummed, “Hi dievčatko” she smiled against your lips before kissing you once more. Wrapping her arms around you tightly. “God, I missed you and that accent” you giggled when she picked you and spun you around, “I missed you so much, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call” she placed you back on your feet. “Don’t worry, I knew if something was wrong, I’d somehow find out” you stroked her cheeks with both hands, “you need a shower” you pointed out, wiping a speck of dirty from under her left eye. “Want to join me?” she whispered. You nodded; your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

----

Steam from the shower filled the Wanda’s bathroom as warm water ran over your naked bodies. The heated make out season only added to the steam fogging the mirror above the sink.

“I hated leaving you” Wanda said as her lips moved to your neck, her hands running down your ribs to your hips. “I know, baby” you threw your head back gently against the wall to give her more access to your neck. Wanda left serval visible marks, soft moans left your lips when she toyed with your nipples, “Wands” you moaned when she pinched a little harder. Her lips latched onto your left nipple, your right hand resting on Wanda’s wet hair while you moaned once more. Releasing with a pop she returned the same attention to your right breast, her left hand creeping up your thigh.

“Is it because of the shower or me?” she smirked after releasing your right breast from her lips.

“Shut up” you playful shook your head pulling her back to your lips, another moan left your lips when Wanda rested her forehead against yours and moving her right thigh between your legs. “Cum on my thigh” she whispered before kissing your lips once more, her right hand lifting your left leg up slightly. You start rubbing yourself against her thigh slowly, moan more when she returned to leaving kisses on your neck. Eventually moving faster, one hand placed on the wall and the other pressed against the glass wall of the shower to keep your balance. Wanda’s hand squeezed your butt tightly as she helped guide you to move faster.

“Harder” you huffed in a moan, her high rubbing your clit in the right stop to throw your head back once more. Wanda applied a little more pressure to her hold on you as you sped up the speed. “I’m gonna cum baby, fuck!”

“Go on srdiečko” Wanda smirked.

Hearing her accent cut the coil in your stomach, Cumming on her thigh with her name leaving from your lip’s serval times. Wanda held you up as you came down from your high, crashing your lips back on your hers once you were stable again.

Your hands roamed her body like she did yours, caressing her breasts causing her to moan. “Baby don’t tease me today, please” she begged, “I’ve missed you” she adds was your lips worked down to her chest, taking her right nipple into your mouth, rolling your tongue around her harden bud. “That’s a good girl” Wanda moaned; her head thrown back as you pleasured her nipples.

The two of you forgetting about the running water as your lips travelled further down her body before you rested yourself on your knees. “Look at me princezná” Wanda spoke before you kissed the inside of her thighs. You looked up at her, water droplets covered both of your faces.

“If you’re a good girl and make mommy cum, I’ll let you ride my fingers, okay?” she spoke.

“Yes mommy” you nodded.

“Go on baby, give mommy what she needs” Wanda smirked before spreading her lips wider for you. Gently you placed her right leg over your shoulder, leaving kisses on the inside of her thigh before licking one strip up through her folds where she needed you the most.

“That’s it baby” she moaned once she felt you leave kisses on her outer lips before paying extra attention to her clit. Wanda used one hand to keep her steady while her other hand found your head and slightly pushing your further into her. You parted her outer lips with your tongue to expose the inner lips, and then kissed them softly earning another loud moan from Wanda, “srdiečko, don’t tease” she groaned.

You smirked before dipping your tongue into her wet hole a few times before licking a few more strokes through her folds. “I swear to god dieťa!” Wanda moaned pushing herself more into you, that’s when you drew circles around her clit with your tongue. “Fuck, srdiečko! Your tongue is heaven!” she moaned once more. The more moans you got from her the faster you started lapping at her.

“Keep going srdiečko, mommy’s gonna cum!” Wanda warned which only made you apply a little more pressure to her clit. “Yes!” she almost screams as she became undone, helping her ride out her high making sure none of her juices went to waste.

“Maybe I should go away more often” Wanda caught her breath.

“I missed you mommy” you said as you got back on your feet, Wanda crashing her lips onto you again, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips. “You really did miss mommy, didn’t you”

“I did” you nodded, “I best give you your reward than” Wanda winked, two of her fingers running through your folds. “Did making mommy cum make you more wet, srdiečko?” she asked. Again, you nodded, “please” you whimpered.

“You’re such a good girl, using your manners” Wanda kissed your collar bone, using your slick to cover her fingers before easing two into your needy hole.

“Oh, srdiečko, you’re so warm” she kissed your jaw, “and tight” her lips met yours again. You held onto Wanda’s shoulders, your nails digging into her skin as she started thrusting her fingers in and out of your pussy.

“Fuck!” you moaned when she went faster. “Mommy, you f-feel so good” your eyes rolled back to the back of your head.

“Play with your little clit for me, srdiečko” Wanda instructed.

You played with the bundle of nerves, moaning loudly when Wanda went slightly harder. Clenching around her fingers she knew you were close.

“You’re close, you can cum baby” she kissed your neck once again.

“Agh! I’m close” you didn’t quiet hear her words.

“I know, srdiečko, cum for mommy” she whispered in your ear pushing you over the edge once more. “I’ve got you” she said, slowly removing her fingers and holding you up as you returned to reality.

Wanda helped wash you up before wrapping you in her robe and guiding you to the share bed, your body tired and worn out, not that you were complaining.

“Go to sleep, srdiečko. I’m right here” you heard Wanda whisper before drifting off to sleep.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision #marvel #the avengers #fanfiction

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shadowphoenixrider · 4 days

Text

Over a Bowl of Gumbo

(Direct sequel to Sins of the Past, where Gambit makes good on his promise to Shadow, and they Talk. More fluffy than the other one, but about the same amount of talking! At least we know where all the X'Men's 'talk about your feelings' budget went.)

Gambit made his way down the dormitory hall, following the voices that floated up from the dorm with its door ajar, keeping careful hold of the bowl in his hands.

Almost as soon as he'd crossed the mansion's threshold Shadow had been taken from him, bundled away into hot towels and towards the medbay, Beast rattling off orders in Medical-Speak that Gambit had no hope in understanding.

He'd not seen her since, and though he knew full well Beast would take care of the mutant, Gambit had found his mind loud with chattering worries. He couldn't silence them, but he could busy himself the only reliable way he knew how - something that made an even grumpy Scott forgive him. A bit.

As he approached the room, the voices became clearer; a warm southern drawl and the quieter accent no-one could place, talking casually. Gambit smiled warmly, gently drumming his knuckles on the door before pushing his way in.

Shadow was sat up in bed, propped up by pillows and in soft long-sleeved pyjamas, whilst Rogue sat at her feet.

"Hope Gambit not interruptin', mes amies?" He asked, glancing between them.

"No, we're fine here, sugah." Rogue smiled, eying the bowl in his hands and standing up. "There any more of that gumbo of yours?"

"Some, if ya quick. Hopefully Wolverine ain't ate it all." Gambit replied. He noticed the two women share a glance and smile, before Rogue began to take her leave. "She ok?" He asked lowly as she passed him.

"Doin' better now." Rogue nodded. "You did good, Remy."

They shared a smile before she left, and Gambit made his way into the room.

"What've you got?" Shadow asked, shifting to sit more upright.

"Gambit do believe he promised you a bowl of his gumbo when we got back. Careful, it still hot." He smiled, gently passing it to her. Their fingers brushed, and both had to resist the instinct to recoil. "No shrimp, only de chicken."

"And enough spice to kill?" Shadow raised an eyebrow, setting the bowl in the dip of her crossed legs. Gambit chuckled richly - he hadn't realized how much he'd missed her ripostes.

"Need a little spice to warm ya up!" He grinned, sitting where Rogue once had. "Beast would agree!"

"Uh huh." Shadow stirred the stew, taking a conservative taste. Gambit found himself watching her face carefully, gauging her reaction.

To his relief, she smiled, uttering a pleased hum. "Mmm! I can see why Rogue wants to get more."

Gambit beamed at her praise, not quite sure why.

"Glad ya like it, petite." And with that, Shadow dug in - her hunger clear.

Gambit turned his attention to her room, letting her eat in peace. Despite her still being at the X-Mansion as a guest, Shadow was already making her dorm her own. Large posters clung to the wall, one of a sci-fi show Gambit was fairly sure Beast also liked, another that listed all of the raptor birds that could be seen in their area, and yet another with all of the constellations in the night's sky. Books and textbooks were propped up haphazardly together, ranging from the expected subjects of cell biology and biochemistry to a variety of sci-fi and fantasy reference books, one about cat behaviour and another with a title Gambit was sure was there to embarrass people snooping in her room.

Another pile of books sat on the desk by the window, conspicuously kept separate from the others - one Star Wars novel, another about dragons and the last about bird migration. A model of one of the ships from the sci-fi show sat in pride of place in the window, along with a small black resin Egyptian cat, painted with colourful jewellery. Gambit smiled to see it.

"I told Rogue." Shadow's voice broke the Cajun from his thoughts, and he looked back to the young woman. She was stirring the gumbo thoughtfully, having devoured a good half of it already.

"'Bout what happened with your powers?" He asked. She nodded.

"Yeah. I figured that of everyone here, including you, she'd know what it's like..." Gambit nodded.

"That she does, petite. What'd she say?"

Shadow smiled.

"Oh, sugah." Rogue reached forward, gently taking Shadow's hand in her gloved one. "Ah'm so sorry."

"Yeah. When I saw it happening to Wolverine, even on purpose..." Shadow shook her head. "I panicked. It brought everything back, and I just...bolted."

Rogue squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Ah know that feelin', sugah. Did it myself when mine came in too." She smiled sadly. "Folks 'round here have similar stories, though. You're not alone."

A small smile pulled at Shadow's lips.

"I...yeah. I guess you're right. I just...I didn't know how you'd react. I was scared-"

"That we'd treat you differently." Rogue finished for her. "Oh hun..." Another gentle squeeze. "We all have our demons in our past. If we turned you away for yours, all the X-Men'd have to disband!" She smiled softly, kindly. "You're safe here, Shadow. They'd understand."

Shadow's smile trembled, eyes stinging.

"I, I hope so."

"Gambit brought you in like a bedraggled kitty cat he found in a storm drain." Rogue chuckled. "You're not gonna get left out in the cold like that here."

Shadow took a shuddery breath, trying to regain her composure.

"Thank you. I...I'm still not looking forward to telling the others about it."

"Don't worry about that. You can tell them today, tomorrow, or never at all, if ya like." Rogue said. "No-one needs to tell their stories if they're not ready or don't want to." She smirked. "And if they start buggin' you? They'll have to go through me!"

That made Shadow giggle.

"Thank you, Rogue." She squeezed the other woman's hand. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem, sugah."

Gambit smiled fondly.

"Rogue always better than me at sayin' the right things," he said.

"I dunno." Shadow said, a shy smile playing on her lips. "I think you did alright."

"You're very kind, petite."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the young woman finishing off the last of her meal. Gambit noticed that the teal-clothed pyjamas she was wearing were patterned with sleeping cats, one curled into a ball prominently stitched over the shallow swell of her right breast.

Lifting his eyes to her face - least he be caught staring at that area - he noted that whilst her eyes were still a little red, that was the only evidence of her previous sorrow and distress. The colour was back in her face (perhaps a little intensely thanks to the spices), brightening her nose and cheeks. Her hair had mostly dried, curling tightly in on itself - she seemed to have lost an inch of height, but her brunette curls were now defined, almost like ringlets. He could just glimpse her pale ear lobes hiding behind the thick curtain of her hair.

"You're staring." Her voice snapped him back to reality, and to Gambit's surprise, he felt heat rise into his face.

"Ah! Jus' admirin' the scenery, petite!" He said, scratching the back of his neck. She raised an eyebrow at him, that same unconvinced look as she'd had when they first met. "I...Ya look much better, Shadow."

"I am." She nodded. "I should be better tomorrow, but Beast wants me to take it easy until then. Says it's better not to tempt fate after a shock to the system like I had." She paused for a moment, spinning the spoon in her fingers. "I don't know if he told you, but...I was entering a bad stage of hypothermia."

"Yeah." Gambit looked away, out of the window, where the rain still hadn't let up. His gaze drifted to where they had been. "Said that it were lucky I found you when I did. That..."

"Shadow's hypothermia symptoms were progressing fast." Beast said gravely. "She was displaying one of its most insidious symptoms; confusion. If she had been left alone for much longer, Shadow might not have been able to rescue herself, either under her own power, or to have enough wherewithal to call for assistance."

"You mean..." Gambit's heart felt like it stopped in his chest. The doctor dipped his head.

"Yes. We could have lost her, if not for your intervention."

"Yeah." Was Shadow's soft assent. A long pause, before she made a little 'hah!' "I guess that's two I owe you, now."

"Two?" Gambit raised an eyebrow, looking back to her.

"When you saved me in that alley, remember? When we first met." Shadow smiled. "Now you can add this to the list."

"Hah! You don't owe Gambit anythin', petite." He chuckled. "Gambit just happy you're safe. Besides, ya did pay me back for de first save. Healed me, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." She chuckled. "Well...I guess this gumbo makes two, then. It was fantastic." True to her word - aside for the last remnants of brown liquid at the bottom, the bowl was cleaned.

"Ah, only too glad ya liked it, mon amie." Gambit smiled proudly. "It be a Gambit special."

"It certainly was special. Thank you." Shadow's smile was warm and reached her eyes, making his heart trip over one of its beats. She reached to put the bowl on the bedside table, and Gambit leant over to help. Disappointedly, there was no accidental contact between them this time.

"How mad was Scott?" Shadow asked.

"Very." Gambit chuckled ruefully. "Guess most of it were out of worry for you, be fair. Did kinda disappear without tellin' them and didn't have my comm on. After what happened wit you, makes sense."

"Not mention you have that ability to magically disappear and appear without anyone hearing you." Shadow smirked, folding her arms.

"Hah! So ya keep tellin' me." He chuckled. "Didn't even me a chance to get outta my gear 'fore he be givin' me de lecture 'bout always keepin' my comm on, not disappearin' when he talkin' to me, all de usual." He leant back, stretching his long legs out. "Heard it all before."

Shadow raised an eyebrow at him.

"I dunno Gambit, if he has to keep saying it..."

"Don't! Ya as bad as Rogue!" He laughed. "Least he be keepin' it shorter dis time. Worried 'bout ya. Though, Gambit did manage to sweeten him up by promisin' to do his gumbo for dinner."

"Aw, and here I thought I was special!"

"Hey now, Gambit did promise ya first!" He turned his head, and noticed Shadow's eyes were roving down his body, specially down his legs. He gave no indication he'd seen her. "Gumbo take a while to cook anyway, so might as well do a big batch for de team too, non?"

"That's fair, I guess." A thoughtful pause. "Hey, Gambit?"

"Mmm?"

"...Why did you turn your comm off?"

Ah.

"Well..." Gambit rubbed the back of his neck, feeling traitorous heat start to crawl up his face. "If I knew you were in the state you were, woulda kept it on. But..." Why was finding the words so difficult all of a sudden?

"Gambit thought ya needed time. Scott can be pushy, even when he mean well, and...Gambit didn't think dat was what ya needed right den. So, he figured if he find ya first, you would have the time ya needed...and not be alone."

Shadow fiddled with the bedsheet, winding it around her finger.

"How did you know I didn't want to be alone?" She asked quietly. Gambit tried to ignore the sting in his chest at the insinuation.

"Let's jus' say Gambit have some experience wit this," he said. "De types of alone ya wanna be that nearly kills you...That's when ya need someone more den anythin'."

Shadow opened her mouth. Closed it. Just stared at him for a long couple of seconds, before she glanced shyly at her crossed feet.

"Thank you, then," she said softly, raising her head to look him in the eyes. "For...not just rescuing me, but being there for me." A smile grew across her lips. "For being my friend."

Gambit smiled back, feeling warmth blossom in his chest.

"De rien, petite." He replied. "Any time. You make it easy."

He was pleasantly surprised to see her blush slightly, and more so when she reached over, taking his hand. Though her hand was much smaller than his, her fingers were long and delicate-looking - surprisingly elegant for a woman who presented herself more as scrappy and laissez faire.

"I mean it, Gambit." Shadow said, her gentle voice full of deep-hearted conviction. "Thank you."

The Cajun found himself lost for words for a good few moments, before he clasped her hand in both of his, encompassing her with warmth.

"I feel de same, Shadow. Merci."

Her smile was like a sunrise, and Gambit found himself lingering, staring into blue eyes that reminded him of aquamarines, enjoying this quiet, peaceful moment.

That was until Shadow yawned widely.

"Urgh. Mmm, sorry Gambit." She rubbed her eyes with her spare hand. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"It ok, mon amie." He smiled, squeezing her hand with his. "Ya been through a lot. An' de gumbo probably makin' ya sleepy too."

"Yeah." She looked at him from under regretful hooded eyes. "Sorry to chase you away."

"Non, don't be. Gambit happy to stay an' watch over you, but ya probably get better sleep without him." He smiled sadly, reluctantly getting to his feet.

"Depends on how loud your card shuffling is." She smiled, settling back onto the pillows. "But yeah. I think I need a kip. Thank you again, Gambit. For the save and the food."

"No problem." Gambit replied, taking the bowl. "Get some rest now, ok? Don't go sneakin' out again."

"Hah, rich coming from you." She chuckled, her tone light. "Alright. I'll see you when I see you."

"Sleep well, mon amie." Gambit said, stepping away. Shadow's light went off behind him.

Just before he left the room however, he stopped, glancing over his shoulder. Shadow had her back to him, only her wild messy hair visible above the sheets bundled around her.

"Fais de beaux rêves...chère." Gambit whispered softly, before he closed the door behind him.

#sprs writing #x men #gambit #oc/canon #remy lebeau #rogue x men #self insert #self ship #fluff #dialogue heavy #character development #comfort #just a little bit of angst #slow burn #writing rogue is HARD #self insert x canon #self insert/gambit #x men gambit

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