#but ultimately this is a fluff fic and the angst is very temporary
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Disabled Billy and Steve Week
Day 5- New Diagnosis
My prompt: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder in Billy
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For what must be the tenth time in the last month, Heather is parked outside of the hospital, her baby girl in the backseat, but the passenger side empty, waiting for Billy to get back.
The doctors have been running tests and screenings at appointment after appointment. He’s been… struggling. Ever since Isabella was born, his mental health had plummeted. It was never perfect, but for the first time, Heather was genuinely afraid.
Watching her husband pick his scalp until it bled and turned his golden hair red, or wash his face until he got a rash because his freckles started bothering him, was terrifying.
The fear isn’t eased when Billy walks out with a prescription bag, and red eyes that make it clear he’s been crying.
“What did they say?” Heather asks, as soon as he opens the car door.
Billy takes his time answering. He seems like he’s in shock.
Heather would hold his hand, but he has to sanitize, take off his mask, then sanitize again. An obsession.
Somehow, Heather isn’t shocked when Billy finally mumbles, “It’s ocd.”
Honestly, she doesn’t know what to feel. She’s been researching, scrolling on a tablet for hours after Billy is asleep to see what professionals all around the world would diagnose her husband with. But none of that preparation had told her how to feel.
Some part of it is relief, to finally have answers and be able to help Billy manage his symptoms. Another little piece of her heart is scared for how Billy will be feeling through all of this.
She decides to let him tell her, “Is that a good thing? A bad thing? Talk to me, sugar cube.”
“I just need a minute Hetty. That’s all.” Billy tries to smile, but it’s more like a grimace. It hurts to see him like that, but Heather will give him his space.
Instead of bothering him more, she just checks on him every now and again, seeing him glance back at the baby using the mirror that points down at her rear-facing car seat literally every few seconds.
When they get back home, which isn’t far since they knew their array of medical issues would require them being close to a hospital, Billy takes the baby straight inside and lays on the couch with her, just closing her eyes and cuddling her as tight as he feels safe to cuddle her little body.
Heather gives him a kiss on the cheek, and goes to take her own meds, calling from the kitchen, “What are you feeling for dinner tonight, baby?”
Silence. She comes back in, and Billy is in tears. Their little girl is biting his shirt and dozing off, and Billy is trying not to shake too hard with each sob.
His red eyes lock onto her, his lower lip wobbling, “Am I a bad dad?”
“Biscuits for dinner it is.” Heather declares softly, deciding he needs one of his comfort foods at the moment. Additionally, she takes the baby in her arms and comforts Billy with her words, “And no. Sweetie, you’re the best dad in the world.”
It barely helps anything. Billy is spiraling, “But I’m the reason the baby room is so plain. It takes me three times as long as you to change a diaper and I can’t cook for my wife and my kid because I have panic attacks if the oven timer is the wrong number. I can’t clip my baby’s nails cause I might go too short, I can’t hold her when she’s hyper and moving too much- I can’t even fucking be trusted with myself, let alone her little life!”
After all that, Billy takes a shaky, tear-filled breath in, “This OCD shit sucks.”
“None of that means you’re bad though. Your way of doing things is particular, but baby, you’re still here, and you’re doing your best for our girl.” Heather soothes gently.
He scoffs at himself, wiping his eyes more aggressively than necessary, “That’s the bare minimum.”
“Some parents can’t do that. Your mother didn’t.” It probably stings, but it’s reality. One of Billy’s biggest fears when they got pregnant with Isabella was becoming like his parents, or worse. Heather needs him to know that’s not the case.
“Hetty-“ Billy’s face pinches up, like he doesn’t know whether to be hurt or not.
So Heather decides to offer a little bit more insight, and maybe lessen the blow of the brutal reality, “My mom didn’t either. She drugged herself out of her mind and missed my whole childhood. I don’t have any memories from before I was ten. But Bella’s gonna have so so many with you.”
It seems to work, with Billy even smiling as he looks at their little girl and takes it all in, “Do you think she’ll think I’m weird?”
“Honey bun, every kid thinks their parents are weird at some point. But I do know she’s going to think you’re the most loving father a little one could ask for.” Heather chuckles softly.
Now it’s her turn to feel a little bit of panic.
See, Heather has a secret, and seeing as Billy could use a little cheering up, she decides to let him in on it. She takes his hand in hers, and places it on her stomach, right above her scar, “Two little ones, actually.”
Instantly she sees the difference in Billy, and the way his eyes light up. He sits bolt upright and hugs her tight, crying now but for a much better reason.
“Holy shit, baby! How long have you known?”
“Four days. But I’m six weeks along.” Heather enthuses, combing her fingers lovingly through his long curls.
Billy looks like he’s calculating, then he gasps, “Six weeks- Hetty, that’s almost a quarter of the way!”
“I know! Hopefully it’ll fly by like the last one.” Heather laughs softly in pure joy.
Her pregnancy with Isabella was relatively easy, and the number of seizures she had even stayed consistent since her epilepsy medications were safe for her and baby. The worst thing was the morning sickness, but it passed early on enough that she’d somehow enjoyed pregnancy.
Billy had been a wreck, between his emotions and his fears. It took days of promising that she’d be okay when she was nine months in and he’d been scheduled for a work trip before he felt safe to leave her by herself.
At the moment, he doesn’t seem as panicked as he’d been before, but he does fret- “No, no, no, no- I need time. I need to work on stuff.”
Heather cups his face sympathetically, “Bubs, I already told you-“
But Billy interrupts to tell her she’d misinterpreted, “Not personal stuff, lover. I mean I literally need to work on fixing this shitty house up if we’re gonna have two littles running around.”
“First, we need dinner.” Heather happily changes subjects then, but sternly puts her hands on her hips when Billy gets up to help, “Don’t even think about it. This baby bun is literally the size of a grain of rice, I don’t need you butlering yet.”
“Please let me. I feel like I’m buzzing inside.” Billy begs, pouting his bottom lip out in that way that’s always made Heather feel soft.
She rolls her eyes playfully, and hands him a snoozy Bella back, the little one year old reaching for her daddy too, “Put baby girl in her high chair. I could use your help washing fruit.”
“Fruit and.. biscuits?” Billy looks absolutely perplexed by her dinner choices.
Oh how Heather loves this boy.
“No, silly. I’m making you biscuits. Bella can’t eat stuff like that yet though.”
A flush strikes Billy’s cheeks a deep red color- Heather's favorite since she met her soulmate in a pair of swim trunks the same shade- “How the hell do you remember all that stuff?”
Heather just shrugs, though her point is that it’s not as easy as it seems, “Because I don’t have two hundred other things to remember in a day. That and I read a lot of books when I was bedridden. C-sections give lots of time for learning.”
She also goes out into the kitchen, fishing ingredients out of the pantry and measuring utensils out of the cabinets. Billy steps behind her, his hand on the small of her back so she doesn’t bump into him, to reach into the fridge for some strawberries, blueberries, and grapes.
“I’d probably lose my marbles trying to keep track of what’s real and what’s pseudoscience garbage.“ Billy huffs, while portioning out fruit to clean.
It makes Heather recall a time when they were about to be parents and she couldn’t, “Right? Remember when I thought it was bad to sleep on my side when I was pregnant?”
“Changed your tune real quick when the back pain hit.” Billy laughs lightheartedly.
Heather takes the opportunity to reiterate what she’d promised Billy before, “Exactly. Nobody gets everything perfect on the first try.”
She looks over, and Billy is just staring at her lovingly. That was exactly what he needed to hear. Heather smiles back, and blows a kiss, a little puff of dough flour coming from her hands.
Billy acts like he catches the kiss, and puts it to his heart. Nothing beats flirting like dumb, lovestruck teenagers.
Until a piercing wail cuts it off.
Bella over in her high chair starts crying her little head off, Heather guesses because she missed a nap earlier while they were waiting for Billy to finish his appointment.
That sound to them as new parents is instant panic, all the time, and Heather isn’t sure when that feeling will end. Until it does, she knows it’s been hitting Billy harder, and decides to let him take care of it, in the form of an offer, “You wanna get her, bubs?”
Just like she predicted, he’s already drying his hands on the apron not around his own waist, but on Heathers, and running to grab the baby, “Already on it.”
Heather just smiles after him, proud and fond all at the same time. Throw any new diagnosis their way, and they can handle it. Just Billy, her and Isabella, and their little bean on the way. An unbreakable family.
~~~~~
Interested in helping the community? Today’s organization that I’ve chosen to highlight is the Peace of Mind foundation.
POM is part of the international OCD foundation, which means they are recognized as being on of the most beneficial sites for individuals with obsessive compulsive disorder.
On the site, folks can access information about their disability, seek positive affirmations, reach out to care teams, and provide education to family members or carers to make sure the individual is getting the best treatment.
While the site uses language that I personally see as demeaning, I still thought it was important to highlight what they do for the community. I also couldn’t find a single charity or organization that didn’t use the word “suffering” to describe living with our disorder. I personally don’t see my OCD that way, but as I said, I wanted to show that there is a foundation out there trying to support us.
The site accepts donations, saying they will go towards families, therapists, support teams, and of course individuals with OCD. If you’re interested in reading more on your own and forming your own view, click here and the link will take you to the site!
#disabledbillyandsteveweek#hollogrove#billy x heather#ocd billy hargrove#heather holloway has epilepsy#my writing#ej writer#tw unhealthy coping mechanisms#<- I don’t know what else to tag this as because it goes into detail about Billy’s symptoms and how they can be self destructive#but ultimately this is a fluff fic and the angst is very temporary
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Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 1]
Much more recently written fanfic I started to distract myself from the "mild" trauma of Season 2 finale based on ideas that wouldn't work for "Rough Stuff". This fic is absolutely RIFE with my personal headcanons. Clones deserved so much better, and I will be a giant mess when I get to Pong Krell in TWC as I have since started rewatching it.
Warnings & Information: Intended audience is 13+, 18 if you squint. Hurt+comfort material primarily; there is still a fair amount of angst, fluff, and all the good stuff. Reader has she/her pronouns. We really like italics in this house. Peep this for funsies for why I decide to use Mando'a. By no means comprehensive, in no particular order there will be: Mild injury description + care, blood, vague medical terminology (read as: pretending to understand medical stuff), use of restraints, needles (autoinjectors), near-death(s), nausea and non-descriptive mentions of vomit, Star Wars swearing, drugs (both medical and recreational references), minor adult themes + implications, avoidant behaviors, trickery and light mean teasing in the forms of siblings and crushes.
Series-inaccurate allusions to Crosshair never leaving Bad Batch post Order 66 execution [because while this is an AU fic, I am also very much an Avoidant Mess™], Batchers never meet Cid, fair chance of misremembering any referenced events from TCW series. Series accurate allusions and references to canon violence (AKA: literal war crimes, weapon injuries, etcetera).
Word-count: 4,637
She couldn't remember the last time she had a really, really bad day outside of her medical clinic. There was a tip-off that an abandoned medical center on a neighboring mining planet within the system had supplies too tantalizing to ignore. Valuable paraphernalia that was being phased out by this emerging Empire, ripe for the taking. Did the mining company really have to build this settlement on the steepest face of the mountain? No, they probably didn't realize how unstable, unsafe and ultimately unsuitable this location was while they riddled the inside of the mountain with tunnels as they harvested precious ore and minerals. This was a boomtown and it had completed two of the three strikes typical of such: strike it rich, strike it fast, strike it down. The people living and working here had to abandon it in a hurry before they demoed the place. This mining company hadn't done their proper research and now the shells of their temporary structures were all that remained.
But a scrappy little scavenger had found the medical center was still fairly flush with supplies and let the first medic who was willing to help them with their injuries know about the score. 'It'll be dangerous. If you're going, tell a friend so they know to come looking for you if you don't get back after a certain time. But these items are pre-Empire, they aren't making them like that anymore, so you'll want these. Trust me. I think you'll find them worth the risk of a rock slide or two.'
It. Was. Not. Not really, anyways.
She was just glad to be home now. Put the day behind her. No more rock slides. No more rusted shells of buildings that made for excellent deathtraps. No more falling halfway down the mountain she climbed up in the descent to her ship in the foothills and losing almost every last med supply she came with after slipping on a patch of loose, fine-grain sand just after navigating the maze of the medical center. She had to hobble down the rest of the mountain with nothing to clean out the open wounds and prayed to everything and anything that she didn't contract something that had leached into the rock as the by-products of mining and refinery. She had to stumble into her ship and send a message to her back-up at home that she was 'hurt pretty kriffing bad' but alive and would be back planet-side after dinner; don't wait up for me, I'm too damn tired to swing by after all. Tell the others I'm sorry.
Her instructors in med school would be having a conniption if they saw the way she had tended her wounds so lazily and would never let her hear the end of it for the juvenile, sloppy attempt to bandage the laceration on her dominant arm, but she was too tired to care. (But if she ever saw that scavenger again, she'd kill them for failing to mention several things. The collapsing roof in the west stock room, for starters.) She'd deal with it all properly in the morning. She just wanted to sleep after sucking down two tubes of nutrient paste and a mixed handful of painkillers and antibiotics to ward away pain and infection.
She picked up her datapad one last time and hissed a deliberate dictation into the mic after tugging the knot to the wrapping one last time for good measure. "I'll deal with that bantha fodder in the morning… Home safe. Going to bed. Goodnight."
She'd accidentally sent it to the wider group beyond the singular contact when five messages popped up in short succession.
Glad you're home safe. Sleep well, kid.
likewise
GOODNIGHT!:)
Yes, goodnight.
We'll see you in the morning, burc'ya.
Hopefully she'd feel well-rested with the sunrise. Crawling into her bed, she dropped heavily on her side and clutched a well worn Tooka doll in her favorite colors named after her very first childhood pet to her chest as she drew the covers up over her shoulders. Maker, she was so tired. It wouldn't take long before sleep came for her, feeling the first beckoning pulls on her eyelids after just a few moments.
Her comms gave a harsh screech, jolting her awake in her bed. Just when she had drifted off… This better be important. An actual karking emergency. Someone who had her personal frequency had better be dying if they were contacting her. "What."
There was a lot of shuffling and keypad beeping on the other end of the comms channel, but no one spoke right away. Just when she was about to either call out a hello? or simply disconnect her comlink, she heard someone speak up. Clone Sergeant Hunter. "Tech is this really necessary to keep the-"
"If we want an accurate oral temperature, yes."
There was a groan over the channel, then the sharp rustle as the comms got bumped or adjusted in Hunter's hand. "Well the longer I have it in my mouth the closer I feel to gaggin-"
She shot upright in her bunk, slightly grossed out and confused all at once. "What the kriff are you-!?"
The two Clones on the other end of the comlink gave their own startled shouts, realizing they had a disembodied voice suddenly joining their company. "[____]! How-?"
She was quick to cut Tech off, pulling the comlink closer to her face to amplify her furious tone of voice. "Did one of you seriously call me - in the middle of a medical check - when I'm trying to sleep!"
"Sorry, [____]." Hunter mumbled shamefully. "Must have switched on my comlink by mistake… Didn't mean to disturb you when I know you've had a hard day." What an understatement, Hunter. The impulsive venom in her mouth was hard to hold back, encouraged by her frustrations and discomforts bubbling over. "Hard day made harder thanks to you." She regretted it in a heartbeat. Thank the Maker the enhanced Clone wasn't in the room with her; he'd probably have been able to hear the way it skipped a beat if he was able to sense the beginnings of seismic activity, smell the way she felt her body begin to shiver in a forming, cold stress-sweat as the shame of her anger washed over her.
"You're right: let me make it up to you."
She was told to come over to the Batch's housing. Crosshair opened the blastdoor for her before she even had a chance to knock to avoid waking anyone sleeping if she used the buzzer. "He'll be in the main area."
"What, no "Hello, taking care of yourself like I told you to?" tonight, Cross? Even as a joke, after the day I've been having, to lighten the mood?"
There was a half-hearted scoff (or maybe that was a soft laugh) from the Clone at this."That's more Wrecker's thing," Cross drawled in a casual voice around a toothpick, sidestepping to let her squeeze inside, "and I'm not really interested in pretending I can't see that you are not taking care of yourself."
"No, of course not Mr. Sharp-eyed, Snarky Sniper. 'Cause I fall down the mountains of abandoned mining settlements for kriffing fun."
If Cross was phased by the uncharacteristic anger of the medic tonight, he didn't really show it. Just a little twitching pull of his upper lip on one side and half-lidded eyes that betrayed a bit of amusement and disappointment. "Mmp. C'mon, kid. I'll see if I can't find a half-decent ration bar somewhere around here for you."
"Not hungry, Cr-"
"Don't care." He interrupted in a brusque tone, not giving her the opportunity for excuses. Crosshair was the kinda guy who didn't like excuses, either in giving or getting, and could be quick to shut that kriff down. It was refreshing sometimes, but tonight it was just another mild annoyance of [____]'s day.
Whatever. She was going to go find Hunter where Cross said he'd be rather than waiting around in the entryway forever. "Skipping meals again, are we burc'ya?" As a medic, she often missed out on a meal or two while she was aiding the galaxy's sick and injured, and the unintentional habit carried over when she wasn't at the clinic. Something that made her friends fret over her like this. "For once I had all three meals. Only thing I swear went right today…" There was a pause as the medic heard a comment from the small kitchen on the left from the common room and she added with a gentle sigh, "aside from not breaking any bones during that nasty fall, too I guess."
Hunter looked relieved and genuinely proud of her, sincerely surprised she wasn't tired and hungry like many nights in the past. Crosshair just turned on his heel back into the kitchen unit without breaking his stride, after a little shuffling around in the cabinets [____] could hear the sink running. "Well that's… good! Proud of you, kid."
"...Than-"
Cross set the glass of water he'd filled for her in lieu of the ration bar down on a low table in the common room in the middle of the light conversation she was having with Hunter. "Here. I'll leave you two to it. Goodnight."
"U-um, thanks, Cross. Goodnight…" Cross nodded nonchalantly at her, next turning to his brother, who was quick to avoid his eyes before Crosshair just turned and left the two of them. Leave you two to it, what did he mean by that that had Hunter looking so nervous with a wave of color creeping up his neck from under the collar of a fresh nightshirt? "What's going on, Hunter? Do I need to be worried about something? Something show up on the health check? Do you need some nysillin tea or- s-something?"
Hunter shook his head, a tender, reassuring (and touched) smile slowly building. You could take the doctor out of the clinic, but you couldn't stop her from thinking about her job. "Nothing's wrong, k'uur... Just thought I was feeling a little under the weather, but I'm perfectly fine. It's nothing more than just making it up to you after waking you. Plus, for once, you won't have to patch your own wounds. Why not have someone take care of you the same way you take care of others?" It was the same thing he'd said to her at the end of their first of many interactions in this seedy little travel-hub. The time she'd undoubtedly saved Crosshair's life after he'd picked up a nasty little parasite while slogging through the swamps of some distant planet. Kashyyyk? It was probably Kashyyyk.
[____] was in a sour arrangement then with some smugglers with hair-trigger tempers to come and go as they pleased with her small clinic, and these Clones had been kind to remove the problem clientele "with discretion" as a way of paying her back. She'd saved their "stubborn vod". They saved her and now trusted her to treat their injuries no matter the cause, turning up at odd hours for the oddest of injury or malady. Complete faith in her in a hostile galaxy who now wanted… whatever it is they wanted with these Clones. She didn't ask. She didn't want to know.
She'd heard the stories from those who fled the war encroaching nearly every part of the galaxy. She'd heard of the war crimes, seen the horror and gore and bloodshed step into at least two of the medical centers she once worked in… known of an Order 66 and what became of much, if not all, of the Jedi… She didn't want to know. They often didn't want to tell, beyond giving vague recollections when they were making arrangements for short-term prescriptions for sleeping supplements with the medic when the nightmares were overwhelming.
Much like scouting the abandoned medical facility in an old mining boomtown for various 'sillin supplies, life seldom goes the way you wish.
"C'mere, ad'ika. Let's get you patched up." He patted the space beside him on the couch in invitation, pulling a medkit closer with the other hand all while looking at her with the same softness he often reserved for his sister. When [____] first met him, she could have sworn Omega was his daughter. "Unless you're not okay with that." Hunter added, addressing her hesitation he could hear in the rhythm of her pulse, her heart.
"I'm fine with it… just really tired and brain's kinda closing shop for the night. Sorry." Taking the seat indicated, [____] sunk back into the furniture, sighing. She didn't want to bring up why she was hesitating on him. He carried enough guilt as a participant in the old GAR… Hunter broke the seal on the new packet of medical tools, prepping everything he thought he'd need. "Don't be, ad'ika. Now, have you taken something for the pain already?"
"Rhetorical question for a medic, don't you think?" The tired, teasing question was met with a single chuckle. He knew she would have, he was just making small talk. "Anything else? Ask me if I'm taking any other kind of stim packs, or maybe I should lie about eating all my recommended fruits and vegetables?" It was a laugh from Hunter this time, deep and hearty and genuine from his chest.
"Are you?" Picking up a pre-moistened cleaning wipe from the little packet within the medkit, Hunter removed the sloppy wrappings around her dominant arm that [____] had applied before trying to call it a day and properly deal with everything in the morning. Dried smears of red lay underneath the gauze, something that made Hunter's gut drop slightly. Either she had done an uncharacteristically poor job cleaning her injuries, or these were more intensive than believed and they were slow-bleeders that hadn't scabbed over completely.
"Tck…Can't say I'm any better than most of my patients, if I'm honest." Hunter hummed slightly, gingerly blotting along the length of the mild laceration. It had to have been an unpleasant injury after losing all her emergency supplies and nothing to ease it right away until she stumbled back to her ship. It looked fairly deep to him, but couldn't be certain. "Mmh! That stings."
"'It's supposed to, little guy. Means it's working.' I swear Cross could have killed you with a look if the parasite wasn't actively killing him over being called a little guy like he was a kid."
"Ha-ha. Very funny, Tech." [____] half-heartedly mocked Hunter's sharp recollection of their first encounter, trying to stifle a coming yawn. That time felt so long ago now; longer than it actually was. "I was only trying to keep him calm and comfortable. I see a lot of children at my clinic so it's a habit I've de-developed… excuse me, sorry about that. People… don't exactly love doctors."
Hunter paused mid-blot, giving her a firm look to show her he was serious. Something in Hunter didn't like the way she'd said it, it didn't sit right with him. "Nonsense, cyar'ika. People love doctors; they just don't love going to them. Big difference. Trust me." Trust me like I trust you he wanted to say. He wouldn't. He believed it was mutually understood, no need for explicitly stating so (partly an old habit in thanks to how he communicated with many a vod during the war). "People…" Hunter tried further explaining, leaving out the "like us" he again believed didn't need to be said "...might be embarrassed, or fearful, or worried about going to the medic, but they understand they need to go because the medics will be able to make them better. They don't hate the doctor; they hate the doctor's office…" Hunter paused, digesting his own words with a questioning expression as he set aside the pre-moistened wipe, now soiled. "Now of course I think I just sound like I'm condescendingly explaining your own job to you."
"Heh. Don't worry about it. Too tired to care," the weary medic offered with a reassuring smile, leaning into the backrest of the couch with a slowing blink-rate. "I'm just more concerned about staying awake, while I'm the patient for once, for you."
For you. Something about it was unintentionally sweet to Hunter and made something within him flutter for a moment. That was happening a lot lately, every time he thought of her. He kept chalking it up to his enhancements and memories of the Kaminoans testing him and the others that remained of the experimental unit, the sharp sterility of antiseptic that lingered in her clinic and her clothing and her hair that sometimes turned his stomach, or simply a disconnected unfamiliarity with those who were not Clones… though, while perhaps he never felt truly connected with them and the way some called them the 'Sad Batch' (or called Omega a lab scabber) when they thought they could get away with it, they had still been his brothers in arms in the war.
A war they were still running from. One they nearly lost Crosshair to after 'things went screwy on Kaller' as Wrecker put it once. What an understatement… if Hunter hadn't been so insistent with the Shock Troopers down in the brig that the Batch stayed together to the point that they tased Hunter to shut him up instead of extracting Cross, then Crosshair likely would have been siphoned off to some corner of Tipoca City and had the activation of his inhibitor chip nudged along into unpleasant possibilities Hunter had nightmares about in addition to so many things he'd seen… done, during the Clone Wars. It'd been difficult, and he'd hated part of himself for it, but as they made their initial escape from Kamino, he threatened to stun Crosshair if he didn't kriffing shut up about following orders they didn't even understand for five minutes! so hard he wouldn't wake up until they reached the next star system.
There had been so much bickering. They still bickered even after Captain Rex got in touch with them, somehow, after they left Saleucami visiting the Lawquane family (which had been tricky and Tech worked the loophole that Crosshair could not report Cut for desertion because it had been the GAR when he went AWOL and now it no longer existed, it was the Empire now, right? half to death before Crosshair reluctantly let it be), and they got their chips removed in the rusted out shell of a Venator on Bracca and had been lured into a trap set by Tarkin back on Kamino. Because if Tarkin could not have this SpecOps force, nobody in the galaxy could; he'd aimed to wipe them out and they'd narrowly avoided being swallowed in the eternal seas of the closest thing they had to a homeworld.
It took a long time for the bickering to stop. They were at their throats for a while still until… Crosshair had gotten really, really sick.
That's what led to this friendship with a medic who had been willing to help them nearly a year ago. Though lately, it was feeling… different.
"Hey…" [____] broke the building silence while Hunter had been searching for a bacta patch, and Hunter initially worried he'd done something to tip her off to the personal burdens, the memories, he shouldered. "...weird question for ya, if that's okay."
"How weird?" Hunter tried, careful not to let the hesitancy and budding anxieties show in his voice. There's the karking things. He'd probably need a couple of them to make sure he had it covered so it would heal up nicely, quickly.
"Oh, not very. I just wanna pick your brain a bit."
Ah. Just curiosity. He affixed the first patch over the first half of the laceration, careful not to prod the bruised flesh with unnecessary pressure. "Alright, pick away."
"What is… your favorite memory? When you're having a bad day… what's the thing you think about that always cheers you up?"
"Heh… your day was really that bad that you're looking for advice from a soldier, doc?" Hunter teased, applying a second patch over the laceration. He wasn't sure what he could truthfully answer with while he was carefully measuring out a length of sterile gauze to hold the patches in place on her dominant arm, there being too many little, fleeting happy moments rather than significant memories to spin some story from. But he'd try. "I guess for me… it's less what I think of and more of what I do after a bad mission. Clean my gear. Tidy up my rack. Buff out my helmet-"
The medic smirked, a solitary, quiet laugh interrupting Hunter's train of thought.
Oh, Maker… he'd forgotten the suggestive context behind the phrase she often heard in the infancy of her profession in the midst of the Clone Wars. He'd heard she'd get the stray Clone on occasion at the large health center she was employed at once on a different planet but didn't know how much truth there was to it. "K'uur: that was not a euphemism."
That was met with a nervous giggle that made his stomach flutter. "S-sorry; old habits, and a non-professional setting where I can actually laugh." [____] offered meekly, face flushing with color while he wound the wrapping around her forearm. "C-continue, Hunter, please. 'Buff out your helmet' and...?" The unspoken what else on her tongue was permission enough to show she was serious about him continuing.
"And… check in with the others, I suppose. Make sure that everyone is okay. Spend time with them. Strengthen personal bonds."
A lot like what the two of them were doing now, he supposed. The unintentional check in. Taking care of her injuries while they sat side by side in the common room as the rest of the Batch were sleeping. Except maybe for Tech who often tinkered away on his datapad or the desk he'd squeezed into the room he shared with Wrecker (who wasn't bothered by a roommate with a propensity to dink around with some little gadget or piece of equipment when he was sleeping or resting) at these hours. Or Crosshair, who was often awake and asleep around the same times Hunter was, since they'd have muffled "conversations" through the walls when neither could sleep on occasion. But all was relatively still and quiet in each of his brother's rooms, and the steady rumble of the noise machine in Omega's room meant his sister was asleep.
Drumming rain and swirling waves. The perpetual ambiance of Kamino. He hoped the little machine replicating the soundscape engrained in her memories wouldn't cause her to dream of the Venator class ships bombing the cloning facilities tonight…
While Hunter had been lost in his senses, his worries, the medic had been busy mulling over his words. There was a ghost of a smile taking the place of the pained frown she previously bore. "That all sounds… really nice."
The last injury tended to, Hunter set everything aside and gave [____]'s shoulder a tender double-pat, feeling the tense muscles under his hand as he held his hand there after the friendly gesture. "There you go, ad'ika. All patched up."
"Thanks, appreciate the help Hunter. Could I… trouble you a little further by crashing here for the night? I don't think I'm in a fit state to get back home around now. Far, far too tired." It was definitely not a safe time for a woman to be walking by herself without a blaster, nevermind a tired, injured woman who'd been an invaluable friend to Clone Force 99. He'd never have sent her home to begin with, giving how deeply her chin dipped into her chest with fatigue. "No trouble at all; you're welcome to take my bed, if you want." Hunter offered, giving her shoulder a friendly squeeze. He'd sleep out here in the common room so none of his brothers would get any funny ideas if both he and the medic emerged from the smallest of all the bedrooms in the housing together.
Why the Sith's hells did he just think that?
[____] winced in mild complaint, laugh laced with pain. "Ow, that's quite a grip there, soldier!"
"Sorry," he apologized, "didn't realize how hard it'd be. You carry a lot of stress and tension in your shoulders, ad'ika… I can feel how stiff your muscles are. I… have some experience with providing some relief for that, thanks to all the practice I've had with Wrecker and Tech. Tech's posture is a mess-" He rolled the palm of his hand against her shoulder experimentally, gauging the pliability of the tensest muscle, and she leaned into it eagerly with a whimpering 'oh, Maker…!' surprising even herself. Hunter decided he'd stubbornly pretend not to imagine how not-so-innocent the sound was, to keep talking about his brothers and ignore the heat in his lower belly, another flutter of his heart. "Tech spends hours hunched over his datapad, or some little gadget, or spends hours in those rigid crash seats in the Marauder with his muscles wound so tight he's practically locked in place. Wrecker takes such a beating each mission it's just… uh,"
"A w-way of taking care of him afterwards?" She helped him where he faultured.
"Yeah. That's one part of it. Here, turn so I can get both shoulders." He had her melting under his touch quickly, the practically unhurried worship in this massage he was working into the medic's shoulders, neck, and the dominant arm. The muscles were so stiff and taut under her skin, under his ungloved hands. They were afraid to speak and break the reverence of this moment, the silent work of friend helping friend between each little involuntary sound of great relief or wince of brief pain as each tight, brow-bunching knot slowly surrendered. Her breathing pattern slowed as every minute elapsed between them beyond the gentle moans of relief as Hunter methodically kneaded the muscle free of tension with dexterous fingers. He wouldn't need to dig in so deeply like taking care of Wrecker's messes of well-defined muscle, for which he was grateful, to make any kind of progress, or go so tenderly to start with like he has to for Tech (on occasion) that the goggled Clone sometimes became a little impatient because he wasn't feeling any external relief. He could dip his fingers just a little deeper and just a little shallower, like those perpetual waves of Kamino replicated on Omega's sound machine, as he worked one muscle at a time for the unlikely friend who sat with him on the couch.
It felt roughly the same to strengthening the bonds of the squad to Hunter, but again there was that fluttering in his heart that suggested this was so very different when he realized that when he moved back to [____]'s neck one last time, at her asking, and planted one of his palms on the opposite side of her face to keep her steadied as he dug little circles around the tight muscles under the base of her skull with his thumb that she took one last deep breath and was soon asleep in half a heart's beat between them.
Hunter froze as he was, face hot in panic with the reality that he was now entirely supporting, for the moment, a female friend who was upright and asleep in his hands. Not knowing what to do just as the medic became more limp, he effectively locked himself in place when, on reflex, he caught her upper body against his before lowering it into his lap. A move he'd done a hundred times when one of the squad was this close to fainting out in the field.
Oh, you're kidding me… why the kriff did I do that?
[MASTERLIST] [NEXT]
#frostfics#Sorry Wrong Comms!#a typical Medic!Reader? it's more likely than you think#tbb hunter x reader#hunter x reader#tbb x reader#tbb hunter#hunter tbb#tbb headcanons#sw tbb#star wars x reader#star wars au#x reader#star wars fan fiction#ummm what else should I tag this as?#the bad batch#tbb#tbb crosshair#tbb tech#tbb omega#tbb wrecker#tbb echo
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Crimson and Clover
Chapter 7
Angst? In my fluff fic?? It’s more likely than you think!
Continue reading on AO3 or under the cut
It took Kenny a moment to realize where he was when he opened his eyes. He blinked a few times as his vision adjusted to the dimly-lit room, the only light source being the scarce rays of moonlight emanating from the small gap between the curtains. He was no stranger to waking up at the buttcrack of dawn in someone else’s house, but it took his brain a while to register his surroundings. He knew for a fact it wasn’t his room because he didn’t own curtains. Plus the sheets covering his body were too warm to be his.
His temporary amnesia quickly subsided once he turned his head and noticed the wispy platinum-blond locks mere inches away from his face. His sleepy frown instantly turned into a wide smile when he realized he was in his new favorite spot: Leo’s bed, their naked bodies flush against one another’s. His boyfriend was the picture of post-coital bliss as he snoozed peacefully, his gorgeous face almost glowing in the dim moonlight.
Kenny sighed through his nose, his heart swelling as he admired Leo’s beauty. Even after all this time, it still baffled him that Leo reciprocated his feelings; sometimes he had to literally pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. They had been together for almost a year and Kenny still couldn’t believe that someone as amazing as Leo actually agreed to date someone as plain and uninteresting as him. No matter how many times Leo would compliment him and assure him that he was being too hard on himself, their relationship still felt like a wonderful fantasy, one from which he never wanted to escape.
He snuggled closer to his boyfriend, wrapping an arm around his sleeping form as gently as he could so as not to disturb his slumber. His body was warm and inviting, the only movement coming from the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took. Kenny could feel himself begin to doze off as he basked in Leo’s heat, his sweet natural aroma invading his nostrils and sending him into a state of pure ecstasy.
His eyelids fluttered to a close once it became impossible to keep them open. As he awaited Morpheus’ sweet embrace, Kenny allowed his mind to wander, his thoughts ultimately landing on the memory of his and Leo’s first sexual encounter — the one memory he cherished the most out of all the ones they had together.
The perfect opportunity to consummate their relationship, as Leo liked to put it, took its sweet time to present itself, as neither the circumstances nor the setting were ever ideal. They had talked about it and agreed that the best place to have their first time together was Leo’s house. There was no way in hell Kenny was taking him back to the glorified construction site he called home, where the walls were thin enough for any passersby to hear them, and neither of them had enough money or nerve to rent a motel room for one night. And the face Leo made when Kenny casually suggested the one bathroom at school that no one used had been the closest the platinum blond had gotten to kicking him in the nuts, so he made a mental note to never bring that up again.
They finally got their chance five months into their relationship, when Leo’s grandmother suddenly fell ill. Stephen and Linda had to rush over and spend the weekend tending to her health. Any other parents would’ve taken their child with them, seeing as that could very well be the last time they would see their grandparent. But as it had been proven many, many times in the past, the Stotches were the farthest thing from regular parents; they were anal sticklers who cared more about their child’s academic progress than they did about what he actually wanted. And for once — and most likely the only time — Kenny was delighted that they were so strict, if it meant leaving Leo home alone for two whole days. He could’ve almost kissed Stephen’s feet for saving him from dying a slow, agonizing, blue-balls related death.
Leo had to actually beg his father to leave him home alone for the weekend. The man wanted to hire a babysitter for his sixteen-year-old son. Kenny didn’t know whether to laugh at Stephen’s stupidity or punch that untrusting douchebag in the face, although he very much preferred the latter. After much groveling and many promises to behave and keep up with his chores, Leo was ultimately allowed to spend the weekend on his own, provided he kept in touch and didn’t invite anyone in. Little had Stephen known that his son would be inviting someone in in more ways than one.
He could recall how nervous Leo was in vivid detail. The deep crimson blush on his cheeks had spread all the way up to his ears and, as he discovered not long afterwards, down to his shoulders. His stuttering got even worse, so much that he had barely been able to form a coherent sentence. Kenny had to make sure he was OK to proceed countless times, asking over and over again if he wanted to stop, and every single time he had assured him that he was good to go. At some point his repeated confirmation of consent must’ve gotten to him, because he flat-out yelled at him to ‘stop with the questions and get on with it’. He didn’t stutter once then, and Kenny had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing and killing the vibe.
The moment he’d held Leo in his arms, their naked bodies intertwined and lost in all the unbridled sensations resulting from their love for one another, Kenny knew beyond a shred of a doubt that he wanted to do that with him for the rest of his life. None of his previous sexual encounters could compare to how perfect his first time with Leo had been. He had heard before how sex always felt better when it was with someone you genuinely loved, but he had always believed that to be a steaming pile of bullshit. That day, after spending an afternoon basking in the purest elation that came from finally making Leo his in the biblical sense, he had been about ready to take that steaming pile of bullshit and eat it along with his words. If he had been unfortunate enough to die at that very moment, it would’ve been the happiest demise he could’ve ever asked for.
The funny thing about misfortune is that it seems to relish tarnishing one’s happiest moments. First times were no exception; Kenny knew this from experience. He would never forget his own first time, but not exclusively for the right reasons. He’ll mostly recall how the girl he had been seeing at the time had neglected to lock her bedroom door and her dog had waltzed right in, seemingly happy to stay and watch them in the throes of passion. She had tried to lighten the mood by making a joke about doing it doggy style, but for Kenny that had just been too distracting.
During his first time with Leo, the moment of misfortune came from a much more unwelcomed source — a call from his father. Kenny’s hands had been halfway down his boyfriend’s tight jeans when the blasted device started blaring, ultimately ruining the moment by flooding the room with Natasha Bedingfield’s ‘Pocketful of Sunshine’.
Leo had been quick to answer the call, but not before taking a second to compose himself so his father couldn’t hear just how breathless he was. As he reported back to his father on how his day had been thus far, Kenny had busied himself by kissing and nibbling at the sensitive spot on his neck which he knew drove him crazy. Leo had nudged him a couple of times, silently telling him to stop. At one point he had even caused him to jolt upward with a yelp, to which he had to lie to his father and tell him he had just stubbed his toe on the coffee table. When Kenny glanced up from his privileged position, not only had he noticed that Leo’s face was as red as a ripe tomato, but also that he was glaring daggers down at him, although seeming more embarrassed than angry at him. Kenny had simply smirked and nuzzled against Leo’s shoulder, eliciting a small gasp from the platinum blond.
The call took too long for Kenny’s liking; each passing second had felt like someone was sticking pins directly onto his taint. When he heard Leo finally begin to say goodbye to his father, he had to literally bury his face into one of his boyfriend’s many throw pillows to release a loud sigh without being heard. From where he had been lying, he had distinctly heard Stephen say something along the lines of ‘You must be bored to tears. Maybe you should’ve come with us. At least then you could find something fun to do.’. Kenny had been so fucking happy to have his face pressed against a velour pillow when he heard that, because the chuckle that had escaped from his lips was embarrassingly loud. Stephen was all the way in Virginia taking care of an old lady, while his son was being deflowered. It was no contest who had gotten the short end of the stick.
Once Leo finally hung up — and Kenny got over the intense urge to crush his phone with his bare hands — the rest of the afternoon had progressed exactly according to plan. And oh, what a wonderful afternoon it had been. Despite the initial interruption, Kenny couldn’t deny that had easily made it into the top three best moments of his entire life. The way their bodies moved in perfect sync, the way they fit together in the most sublime manner, the way it felt they completed each other immaculately; all of this had proved conclusively that he and Leo belonged in each other’s embrace. It was nothing short of a miraculous day.
From then on out, sneaking into the Stotches’ upper floor at ungodly hours became a part of Kenny’s daily routine. Every day he would climb the tree growing just outside their house, shimmy across the large branch that reached out towards Leo’s window and climb into his room as sneakily as possible. Every day he had to hear his boyfriend’s concerns about his preferred method for breaking and entering, but no matter how many times he had to be berated about how dangerous it was and how easily he could fall and break his neck — which did happen once, but he would never admit it — it was well worth it just to be with him again; to feel their bodies meld together and listen to the sweet symphony of moans that flowed from Leo’s lips.
Part of him was actually surprised that Leo’s parents hadn’t found that he had been coming over every evening to canoodle with their perfect angel. They had to be quiet as mice so Stephen and Linda remained blissfully unaware of their son’s new, not-so-innocent pastime, but every so often one of them was bound to slip — usually Leo, who was clearly the most vocal of the two. More often than not they had to freeze after hearing the telltale creak of the floorboards outside his bedroom, their palms firmly pressed against their respective mouths. Usually they just heard the toilet flush after a few moments and heavy footsteps going back down the hallway.
Most people would undoubtedly feel cheap if they were in Kenny’s metaphorical shoes, having to sneak in every night and scurry out at sunrise. But Kenny wasn’t most people; he was well aware of the circumstances surrounding his and Leo’s relationship, and he gladly accepted them. Stephen and Linda would never approve of them being together, and if they ever were to find out, Kenny didn’t even want to imagine what they would do to Leo. So if it meant protecting the person he most cherished in this world, he would gladly keep acting as the world’s stealthiest boyfriend. As long as he could continue to fall asleep in his arms, he would do whatever it took.
As soon as that last thought crossed his mind, he felt himself begin to black out. Sighing softly through his nose, Kenny let his mind go blank and allowed himself to be whisked away to the land of Nod.
He had just dozed off when he felt Leo’s arm suddenly jerk upwards. Thinking he was probably just shifting in his sleep, he simply ignored it and tried to fall back asleep. After a few seconds he felt his boyfriend’s body turn in his arms, followed by a low whimper as his legs began to kick.
Kenny’s eyes immediately snapped open as he came to the realization of what was happening.
A while back, Kenny had discovered first-hand that Leo suffered from night terrors. The first time he saw that happening, he panicked as he tried to figure out what to do. His boyfriend was thrashing violently in his sleep, emitting groans and whines that only worsened his horror. It broke his heart to see him in such a state, but he had no clue how to act. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to wake him or abide by the same logic as when you see someone sleepwalking, in which case waking them could endanger them. He was immensely relieved when Leo finally awoke on his own, and wasted no time making sure he was alright. Leo had assured him that it was nothing to worry about, that it happened almost every night and that he was used to it by then. That only partially soothed Kenny’s nerves; knowing that this was a normal occurrence in Leo’s life was concerning, to say the least. He made a mental note to suggest he see a professional about it in the future. He went online the very next day and read up on the matter, because there was no fucking way he would be caught off guard like that again.
The worst thing about Leo’s night terrors was arguably the reason behind them. Except for that one time when he watched that British web series he had believed to be a Sesame Street spin-off and had nightmares for a week, his nighttime panic episodes always had the same culprit.
“N… No… Dad, p-please…” Leo whimpered, his head shaking and his hands clutching the sheets as if his life depended on it.
God, what Kenny wouldn’t give to walk down the hall and smother Stephen in his sleep.
To this day, he still couldn’t wrap his head around Stephen and Linda’s incessant physical and psychological abuse towards their own son. He was kind and polite to everyone, he did well in school, always did what he was told and respected his parents, even though they were clearly the ones who least deserved his respect. The Stotches could pride themselves on having raised the perfect child; a son who would bend over backwards to make them happy. But through their highly questionable methods, they had managed to traumatize him beyond repair. They had been so engrossed in molding their child into the ideal offspring, that they never stopped to consider Leo’s feelings, nor think what consequences that could have in the long run. They were the reason he almost broke into tears upon making the smallest mistake. And even though he was almost an adult, the abuse didn’t stop. If anything, it just got worse. If Kenny had a nickel for every time Leo vented about something his father had said or done to him, he’d have been able to afford a nicer house by now.
He quickly pushed his ever-growing list of ways to make Stephen suffer to the back of his mind, since he had more pressing matters to focus on. Slowly pushing himself upwards, he gently cupped Leo’s wet cheeks — he wasn’t entirely sure if the moisture was tears or sweat, but that hardly mattered at the moment — holding his head just firmly enough so it would stop shaking. He pressed his bare chest against his boyfriend’s trembling frame, feeling just how hard his heart was thumping against his ribcage. Kenny’s thumbs caressed his pale skin as his mind replayed what he had read on that one article he had found online.
Try to wake the person up slowly.
Don’t force them to wake up, as this may increase their distress.
Once the person is awake, be there to provide reassurance and support.
And remember to always stay calm.
“Hey… shh… shhh… it’s OK.” he cooed in his most soothing tone. “You’re OK. Everything’s gonna be just fine. I’m right here. I got you.”
He continued to whisper sweet nothings into the platinum blond’s ear until his body stopped shaking. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he hardly cared; he would do that all night if he had to. He wouldn’t stop until he made sure Leo was calm enough.
Thankfully, it didn’t take too long until his whimpers died down and his breathing became less erratic. His eyelids fluttered open and his glossy baby-blues looked up at Kenny, who smiled down at him in relief.
“There you are.” Kenny murmured, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. “Take a few deep breaths, OK?”
Leo immediately complied, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth several times. Kenny moved back to give him some breathing room, but kept a hand on his arm, rubbing his smooth skin in a comforting and reassuring way.
“That’s it. Nice and easy.” he said as he reached up to brush Leo’s hair off his sweat-soaked forehead. “Feeling better?”
He nodded in response, although his expression remained uncharacteristically stoic.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Leo shook his head vigorously upon hearing that question, and even with the incredibly dim moonlight, Kenny could see just how much pain he harbored deep inside when he looked into his eyes.
“Just hold me.” Leo replied, his voice raspy and his tone grief-stricken.
Kenny didn’t have to be told twice, instantly wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s slender torso. Leo nestled against him and buried his face into his chest, his breath slightly tickling Kenny’s skin. Resting his chin atop the platinum blond’s head, Kenny listened to his now steady breathing, his senses still on high alert and feeling too stimulated to even consider going back to sleep.
He tried to focus on Leo’s warmth radiating onto his body and their unsynchronized heartbeats, but the way his stomach would twist every time he so much as moved a muscle didn’t allow him much peace of mind. He worried about him; he worried about him so much that it almost physically hurt. He hated not being able to help him in these situations. He hated being powerless while Leo barely got a decent night’s sleep. He wanted nothing more than to somehow enter his mind and erase all his trauma once and for all.
Kenny wasn’t sure how long they had been in absolute silence — Seconds? Minutes? Hours? It was hard to be aware of the passage of time in near-total darkness and surrounded by deafening silence. All he knew was that Leo had been quiet and still for some time, and that put him at peace. He wondered if he had dozed off in his arms. Awakening from what was essentially a panic attack in your sleep can be exhausting, both physically and emotionally.
That thought had just crossed his mind when his suspicions were proven to be dead wrong. It started with the all too familiar sound of a strangled sob, which quickly evolved into full-on crying. It didn’t take too long until Leo was bawling against his chest, his entire body shaking in his arms once again.
“He… m-my dad…” he whimpered between sobs, his voice barely audible. “I dr-dreamt he ran me o-over with his car. I tried te-tellin’ him to stop, b-but he didn’t hear m-me. I tr-tried runnin’, but my le-legs wouldn’t m-move. He ju-just came toward me, a-and…”
He trailed off when he couldn’t hold it in any longer, weeping violently and squeezing his arms around his boyfriend’s body. Kenny tightened his embrace, his heart breaking with every sob that left Leo’s lips.
“Shh… it’s OK.” Kenny whispered softly, slowly lifting his head so he could look into his teary eyes. “It was just a dream. Dreams can’t hurt you.”
“But i-it felt so re-real, like I-I was really li-livin’ it.” Leo sniffled.
“I know, dreams are fucked up like that.” Kenny replied as he wiped away some of his tears with his thumbs. “But you gotta remember that it’s not real. It’s all in your head. If something like that were to happen, I’d definitely be there to protect you.”
“Pr-Promise?”
Kenny hesitated as he gazed into Leo’s hopeful blue irises. Could he really promise something like that? As much as he wanted to always be there to protect him, he knew it wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be with him every waking hour. There could be a day when he wouldn’t be there to save him; the mere thought made his heart ache and his stomach turn. He knew what Stephen was capable of, and as much as it sickened him to think about it, he wouldn’t put it past him to try something as vile as what Leo had seen in his dream.
Still, he couldn’t bear to see Leo so dejected. The last thing he wanted was to let him down. He would do whatever it took to make him happy.
“Promise.” he eventually replied, trying his best to smile despite the unease he felt deep inside.
He swore he saw the corners of Leo's lips tug upwards for a split second before he pressed his face back against his chest. He hugged him tighter as his weeping resumed, obviously still shaken up from his night terror despite Kenny’s comforting words. He let him cry out all his anguish for as long as he needed. This wasn’t the first time he’d allowed him to cry in his arms, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.
He sighed deeply as Leo sobbed, softly running his fingers through his hair to provide him at least some semblance of comfort. He was too good for this world, too good to be treated so poorly by the ones who were supposed to protect him. He could only imagine how much he could’ve thrived if he had been born into a loving and nurturing family, instead of constantly having to deal with one of the shittiest dads this side of Colorado.
What he wouldn’t do to put that motherfucker out of his misery, but he knew Leo would never forgive him if he did. At the end of the day, and for reasons way beyond Kenny’s comprehension, he loved his father. After all the pain and all the manipulation, Leo still managed to hold him in high regard. If only it were reciprocated…
As Leo’s crying echoed throughout the room, turning into a sorrowful soundtrack for the beginning of their day, there was only one thought in Kenny’s mind — one that had become something of a personal mantra since even before they began dating:
Fuck Stephen Stotch with a chainsaw.
*softly pats Butters on the head* This precious angel can fit so much projection :’)
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Brimming with Hope
Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with Gojo, your relationship is in shreds. As you two give your relationship a second chance, what does hope look like to two disillusioned lovers?
Gojo Satoru x reader
Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version
Genre: fluff, angst, exes to friends to lovers (wc: 1.5k)
“I don’t think they’ve fully made up their mind about me.” Gojo Satoru confesses to Nanami Kento.
In between assignments and his students, Gojo finds Nanami at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech’s grounds. They’re strolling along one of the many wooden hallways when Gojo opens up about you, his ex-fiancee and his current lover.
“What makes you say that?” Nanami rarely involved himself in other people’s romantic entanglements. Too much work really.
Gojo shrugs and sighs, “It’s like their affection is platonic. They care about me as a person, but I’m not sure if they have romantic feelings for me.”
The latest development of his relationship with you has been nothing short of daunting. Your relationship, albeit not exclusive was running past the six month mark. The longer he stayed around you the more pressure he felt. Commitment is not his thing. Dating his ex is also not his thing. But you certainly are.
“Can you blame them?” Nanami snorts, “How does it feel to be at the other end of the uncertainty?”
Gojo scowls in silence, hands pressed deep into his pocket.
“Well if they’re going out with you and stuff, then that’s not platonic.” Nanami offers. “Just make sure you’re not just fucking around again. Some people deserve better, Gojo. Leave them alone if you can’t get your shit together.”
Gojo stops walking. Nanami’s words are harsh and cold, voicing Gojo’s ultimate fear about himself.
Gojo opens his mouth and closes it shut. Nanami raises a brow. He senses some hesitation.
“Everything we do feels more intimate. I’ve been with other people, but this feels so…so….deep.” he murmurs.
Nanami turns around and snorts, “It’s the feelings. You’ve caught feelings.”
“This relationship feels so temporary...just when I feel like I’ve settled in, I’m to be up on my toes knowing this isn’t going to last. I realized they eventually want a family, but not with me. Because that’s just not me. It feels like there’s a time bomb waiting to go off.” Gojo continues, his tone silent and mournful.
More than anyone, Gojo knows you deep desire to be married and have a quiet family life. It's something he doesn't want and it pains him to know that you'll eventually go your separate ways.
Nanami breathes out, waiting for Gojo to catch up with a few long strides, “You can’t have everything.”
“I don’t need everything. Just the things that count.” Gojo replies, walking by Nanami’s side.
“Then you have to look for a happy middle, for you and for them.” Nanami shrugs.
Gojo scratches his head. What can he do?
—————————————————————————————
You walk out of the morgue to leave Ieri to her work. As you step out, you come face to face with Nanami, who looks surprised that you’re here.
“Didn’t expect you to be around Ieri’s lair.” he comments.
“I didn’t expect to have a casualty either.” you shrug, waving around a file.
You hardly ever see Nanami after graduating. The school grounds were big. Your schedules never line up. Neither of you were particularly close.
He silently looks around if Ieri is behind you.
“So you and Gojo…” he trails.
You roll your eyes and cross your arms, “Not you too! You know what, instead of asking me, you should ask Gojo and his commitment issues, for updates.”
Your voice rings louder on the empty walls than you intended.
“I did.” he replies.
“And?”
“Commitment issues with a capital “C” indeed.” Nanami states, as if the fact was self-evident. What’s new? You sniff.
“It’s unusual to see him so conflicted about you. You used to be his rock.” he adds.
Your eyes narrow, as if asking for more information. You were never really sure how Gojo felt about you when you two were younger. He seemed attracted during your brief arranged engagement, but his attention obviously flitted elsewhere after that.
Nanami relents, “When we were freshmen, you reminded him of home. He pretends not to be homesick all the time. He’s not very good at hiding it when he talks about you.”
“Well, that feeling didn’t last, did it?” you murmur just loud enough for Nanami to hear.
The outside of the morgue has always been a little dark. You wished the lights were dimmer because you know Nanami is observing you.
“Not to defend him, but he was so wrapped in you and your engagement that he needed to find who he was outside of that. He likes attention, too. Can’t deny that. But his affections were sincere for a time.” he says, “I don’t know where his feelings stand right now. This isn’t to give you false hope, but he can be in love, even though it’s against his greater instincts and experience.”
He bows briefly to excuse himself. He needs to head in.
“But you already know that deep down. Out of all of us, you know him the longest, and I would argue, the best.” he adds.
You're left outside stunned by his words. Out of all his surviving friends, you assumed it was Nanami who knew him better than everyone else. It was you. You knew him best, even when Gojo wasn't by your side.
You smile a bit. There are some bonds broken romances can't break.
————————————————————
On a train home from your assignment, you find the bullet train crowded as usual. Rush hour is the bane of your existence in Tokyo.
As you try to find an empty seat, you’re surprised to find Gojo opening some sort of regional snack (again).
“How is it that you have so much time for souvenir shopping?” you groan in comment.
“It’s nice to see you, too.” he offers the seat next to his.
You plop down beside him, distracted. You think back to what Nanami said earlier. What was it that Nanami said? That you were Gojo’s rock? What did that mean really?
He tries to offer you some food. You wave him off dismissively. After gathering your thoughts, you decisively turn to him.
“I just want to know,” you swallow, “How did you feel about me when we were kids.”
With his mouth ajar, he blinks. Where was this coming from?
“Why?” he instinctively asks.
You purse your lips, “I’ve been meaning to ask for the longest while. I want to know your answer.”
He leans back into his seat and puts his food down in concentration.
“I thought I knew what love was and it came in the form of you. It’s kind of dumb. What would a teenager know about that kind of stuff?” he shrugs, “I liked the idea that you liked me. You were someone who supported me. You were there for me. You were generous with your time and affection.
“Looking back it’s just infatuation, isn’t it?" he asks rhetorically.
“You sounded naive.” you say, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
He chuckles, “Who wouldn’t be at that age?”
“And sincere.” you followed up with a smile.
Gojo turns away from you. He sees glimpses of your early teenage years when he sees that smile. It was the smile you wore when he visited you at your clan’s home and helped out with your chores. You liked it when he would carry the firewood you gathered from the forest.
“...you made me feel so grown up, like I had my life together. Not everyone liked who they were engaged to, but I really liked you and you had believed in me so much.” he murmurs, “I felt so lucky to be able to marry you one day. I was literally brimming with hope. But that was 13 years ago.”
You both get off the train. The crowded station greets you both. Although you walk side by side, it is too easy for the crowd to sweep you away. You hold onto his sleeve. He doesn't notice.
You try to say goodbye when you make it out, but he seems distracted. You begin to walk away.
“You’re not saying goodbye?” he asks, startled.
“I did, but you didn’t mind me.” you smirk with your arms crossed.
“Sorry. There’s a lot going on in my mind.” he nods, walking up beside you.
He leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek. You pull away.
“We’re in public,” you remind him. Gojo isn’t public with you on anything.
He kisses you anyway, pressing his lips on your cheek. You’re surprised but not unpleasantly so. His kiss is long and lingering. You embrace him with your arms around his waist. You briefly close your eyes to drown out the noise of the station.
Gojo can feel his heart racing a thousand kilometers per second. His shoulders relax. It's strangely freeing to be able to kiss you in public.
He knows he’s not into commitment, but whenever he sees you, he questions myself.
“I have to go now.” you bid softly.
I love you. He holds back. He waves carefully to not let his words escape his mouth. He’s not fifteen anymore. He should know better.
Gojo begins walking back to Jujutsu Tech. Being able to kiss you goodbye made him feel so grown up, like he has his life together more than he actually does. It makes him feel, once again, that he is brimming with hope.
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I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. Check out the other parts!
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8
Comment or message to be added to the taglist! Or write down some comments about your feelsssss
Series Taglist: @tokyo-love-hotel@samkysnks@herownescape@cherrianne192@shamelessdonutsludgebanana@kageyamakock@shirostrbl@luvang3l@cloudsinthecosmos@httpjungoo @saturnki @itstheee-ha-chan@gucci-froggy @soy1melk @dora-the-grownup @cherryonigiri @fiona782
If you’d like to continue being part of my taglist (JJK or Haikyuu), please let me know! I also write oneshots for both fandoms and soon I’ll be doing BSD too!
#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x gender neutral reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo angst#gojo scenario#jjk x gender neutral reader#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen scenarios
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Not Exactly a Masterlist
I'm way too lazy to create a functioning Masterlist the way they are intended to be made. However, I decided I would make a list of my works, grouped by Ship. I can assure you, they are all available on my AO3 and/or my FF.net, which both use my same pen name. Any questions, don't hesitate to hit my Asks! 🙂
- All my fics are ultimately MA/explicit! (Except for a few Drabbles), unless otherwise specified -
Bensler/EO
Silent Nights are Overrated (xmas fic, very fluffy)
Fractured Legacy (multi chapter post-ep that begins at "Lunacy," canon compliant)
Talisman (multi chapter casefile fic that is my original interpretation of how the EO reunion could have gone)
Blood Rush (post-ep/reimagining of how "Shadow" ended)
A Happy Accident (mid-ep for "Torch")
Concessions (post-ep for "Spooked")
Throwing Punches (mid-ep for "Fat")
An Equal and Opposite Reaction (post-ep for "Swing")
What These Boots Were Made For (mid-ep for "Shadow")
Into Wonderland (post-ep/reimagining for the end of "Lunacy")
Ask Me Anything (inspired by another fic) **WIP
Architecture (SVU x OC in response to the Parallel Universe scene)
Journey's Start: Season's Meetings (SVUxOC, Home for Christmas request)
Incendiary (snowed in with only a fireplace, Holiday Bingo 2023)
Rolivia
Diverge (multi chapter casefile fic)
Reclaimed (post-ep for "Forgiving Rollins")
Distorted Connections (Liv knows Amanda is sleeping with Amaro)
Temporary Insanity (post-ep for "Sunk Cost Fallacy") **includes Cabenson
Eight Days a Week, including:
- Volunteer Hours, Oh Captain My Captain, Million Dollar View, There Were Two in the Bed, First Aid, Bringing the Heat, Flashover, Sun Burn, Taste, Breaking and Entering, Timeless, Bubbly, Ticket to Ride, Of Tents and Tensions, Shoot Your Shot, Full, Vibing, Batteries Not Required, One Rolled Over, Between Looking and Seeing, In the Pink, No Vacancy, Deliquescence, Helter Swelter, Souvenir, Divine Altars, Pandora's Tickle Trunk, Cheer up Checkup, Amanda and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday, T'was the Night Before Grinchmas, The Only Fool Riding, A Lack of Restraint, It's Greek to Me, Point/Counterpoint, Sweetest Tongue, Wildest Wolf, Split Hand Surrender, Some Advice, Unplanned Sequel
Not Once (Liv has never been with a woman)
After a Pause (post-ep for "Chasing Demons")
A Marry Christmas (Christmas proposal fluff and smut)
Cabenson
Flex (drabble)
By the Short Hairs (drabble)
Evocations (multi chapter, canon compliant relationship fic)**WIP
Coronation (smut)
Betting Against the Spread (smutty smut) **includes Bensler/Elliot Stabler
Deconstructing Venus (somnophilia smut)
Burning Bright (holiday smut)
Before the Stroke of Twelve (NYE smut) **includes shades of Bensler/Elliot Stabler
Buzzer Beater (Kinktober request, Almost Getting Caught)
Rolivia + Barson
The Plea Deal
The Scales (pegging)
Discipline (authority roleplay)
Internal Reprimand (caught in the Act)
Nice and Naughty (Barba plays Santa)
Barson
Winning Streak (femDom, pegging, CBT)
Double Entendre (Ugly Christmas Sweater Xmas Bingo request)
Benovak (Olivia x Casey)
Fast Pitch (outdoor sex)
Law & Order: Organized Crime Universe (Various)
Fucking Accusations (smut & angst, M/M Elliot x Reggie Bogdani)
Duality of (a) Woman (holiday fluff x The Bell family)
The Frosty Snow Men (holiday fluff & smut, M/M Elliot x Reggie Bogdani)
Goreames (Bobby Goren/Alex Eames)
Law and Order: Criminal Intent
Forever & No Time at All (post-ep for Siren Call that also covers the events of Blind Spot, angst and smut)
Constant Craving (post-ep for Jones, oral sex)
current as of: 02.10.24
#law and order svu#svu#olivia benson#amanda rollins#rafael barba#elliot stabler#alex cabot#alexandra cabot#casey novak#rolivia#bensler#eo#barson#cabenson#benovak#rollivia#hearteyes4mariska#my writing#svu fanfiction#fanfiction#my fanfic#masterlist#story list#index#law and order oc#law and order organized crime#reggie bogdani#smut#angst#fluff
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Masterpost
Sanders Sides OneShots
What Happened Before Accepting Anxiety - what I think happened that caused Virgil to sink out
The Creativity Split -my interpretation of the Split. Warning for slight U!Pat and gaslighting
Analogical Clothes Prompt - some fluffy Analogical with Logan stealing Virgil’s clothes
Moceit No Mom prompt - fluffy Moceit prompt with a bit of demiboy Patton or Patton in a skirt where Patton is oblivious til the end
Royality short Pat prompt - no further explanation needed
Can’t You See It - Analogical One Shot. Virgil wants the others to know about how loving Logan is...and that he’s a giant memelord. Is that so bad? Hints of background Roceit And Remus being himself
Who say you have to leave your past behind you - my first one shot with Rachel. Some stuff has changed about her since this but it has a special place in my heart. Hinted at Past U!Pat and Remus being himself. Dee speaks in lies ofc.
This is the Worst Ending - oh boy. okay this is what I call my angst :tm: If you are senstive to any of the following: don’t read Unsympathetic Patton, multiple major character deaths, blood, Sayori like scene, string imagery, gore, depression, brainwashing, emotional manipulation,murder, strangulation, eating disorder(kinda), stabbing, gaslighting There was a part 2 but......it didn’t last long, i wasn’t proud of it
Puppet!Ray Origins - the first part of my fnaf au! (i literally only have this part and the end so far). Warnings for U!Pat (he’s Afton), along with child death. However some cute Logan and Ray interactions
Puppet!Ray: End of Everything: continuation of FNAF AU. This time the Henry scene at the end of FNAF 6. The fic I got to use the tag ‘is it still fluff if everyone dies’ on. TW: Hinted Unsympathetic Patton because of who he replaces
And They Were Roommates - a hurt/comfort fic writen for the sanders gift exchange last year. LAMP fic, nonbinary Dee, college AU, supportive boyfs all around
Prinxiety Prompt - takes place post DWIT, Virgil and Roman talking/flirting
Moxiety, Mobster Patton - again, nuff said. no death, actually pretty fluffy for the prompt. maybe a little kidnapping?
Movie Night: cute fluffy LAMP
Logan Prevents A Murder: QPP Analogical, Virgil debating murdering Roman
The Bane of Protectiveness: Ray was there when Roman....and she couldn’t stop him TW: Suicide, Self-deprecation, self-hatred
MM3: The Murder: based of a Murder Mystery from a discord server, how Talyn’s death played out TW: death, murder, vomiting, planned murder, drugging a drink, Unsympathetic Logan
How Ray Became Anxiety: Little clip from an au of mine where Ray becomes anxiety, along with keeping protectiveness. TW: character death, Virgil ducks out, Patton and Roman are jerks
Fighting the Dragon Witch isn’t Therapy: after POF, Roman will do anything to prove himself TW: Temporary Major Character Death
Random Fandom One Shots
Peter Meets Angel - short one shot about my oc meeting Peter (Marvel)
Mitsue Goes Off: Mitsue was already having a bad day, so when the LOV kidnaps her, she’s going to give them a piece of her mind (MHA)
We Have Mic - Mic gets kidnapped, Aizawa has something to say bout that (MHA)
Scar to Remember - Overhaul left a mark on Mitsue (MHA)
Demise Of A Gamer (DR) - Chp5 of SDR2 from Chiaki’s Pov
Friends Protect Each Other- Tubbo goes to visit Tommy during his exile...and finds Dream with him TW: manipulative Dream
Original Writing
Saving The Moon - a short story I wrote for a contest a few years back
Never Trust A Newbie- short story written for a writing camp
The Hug Wizard- if you know, you know
Spiritfarer Hug Wizard: o w o
Soulmates Don’t Have to Be Romantic (finished :D )
my platonic soulmates series, starring my oc Ray
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Soulmate GC
Based off my soulmate story, a gc with the members messing w/ each other. Crack fic.
Chp 1
Chp 2
Bad Things Happen Bingo
The Collector - Logan collects people. TW: U!Logan, Kidnapping, Taxidermy on a person, blunt force trauma, character death, implied use of a date rape drug, major character death
Pressure Doesn’t Always Make A Diamond: Reminding a side for their mistakes was never a good idea. Especially when they feel guilty about it like Patton did. TW: Unsympathetic Deceit, Unsympathetic Logan, constant guilt-tripping, self-hatred, self-deprecation, blaming someone for something that isn’t their fault
He’s Not Yours: Patton’s parents....aren’t the best TW: emotional abuse, yelling, numbness
Keeping Them Pure: Patton just wanted to make sure his kiddos wouldn’t get corrupted by those nasty dark sides TW: Unsympathetic Patton, Kidnapping, Forced holding, chains
The Past Can Haunt You: Remus keeps getting left by those he cares about TW: Abandonment, Self deprecation, Childhood Trauma, the split, implied unsympathetic light sides
Snakes Don’t Like the Cold: Dee is part snake...so what happens when he gets trapped in a freezer TW: Unsympathetic Roman, locked in a freezer, hypothermia
All It Takes Is One Mistake: It’s very easy for the Ego to crack
TW: Roman angst ,cracks, roman needing to talk to people
A Game of Paranoia: Something seems off to Rantaro as he goes through this game
You Just Need a Push to be Good: Patton couldn’t let those dark sides keep corrupting Thomas TW: Unsympathethic Patton, using shock collars as punishment
‘I’m Fine’ And Other Lies: Introduction of Mitsue, my bnha oc. Mitsue gets hurt in a fight and doesn’t realize how bad it is until it’s too late TW: mention of blood, hospitals
They Never Saw It Coming: a small one shot with my own sides. Warning, the title is a really bad pun. TW: graphic eye injury
The Collector: What Happened Before: a sort of prequel to The Collector, Patton thinking over what happened TW: hypnotism, mind control, U!Logan
Replaceable?: takes place post POF, Logan’s reaction to what Janus did
Those Left Behind: Ray was there when Virgil left them
You’ll See: From my given to Overhaul AU: Why Mitsue works with Overhaul TW: Forced Starvation, Kidnapping, Parents not caring
Why Roman’s Sword Isn’t Allowed In the Common Room: All I’m gonna say is this is not as much as a crack fic as it sounds. TW: stabbing, coughing up blood, fighting
Scar To Remember: Mitsue wasn’t left okay after Overhaul got a hold of her
We Have Mic: Someone kidnaps Mic to get to Aizawa. TW: Kidnapping
Don’t Hurt Ray Or Else: Even while with the lights, Virgil is going to protect his sister TW: Morally Grey/Unsympathetic Patton, Outing Someone, not Accepting someone, Transphobia?, mentions of fighting someone
Even In The Face Of Death, Logan Ignores His Feelings - a day to relax goes wrong when Remus decides to mess with Logan TW: blood, stabbing
Trapped- Virgil gets kidnapped while out in the imagination. It doesn’t go well. TW: kidnapping, panic attack, flashbacks, claustrophobia, implied pranking, implied fighting
Who Knew Sleep Paralysis Could Be Deadly?- Talent Swap AU with Makoto and Kyoko TW: stabby stab, K-nife, sickness, sleep paralysis
Kokichi’s Sacrifice - Kokichi’s POV of Chp 4 TW: major character death, strangulation
A Well Needed Lesson - Byakuya has had enough of the Ultimate Lucky Student, Kyoko responds in return
Oh Look, A Yandere - Mic gets kidnapped by a yandere and has to try to escape TW: Yandere, kidnapping
Bad Things Happen Bingo Part 2: New Card, New Category
To Manipulate A Protector -Orange goes after Virgil? Or is that just a trick? TW: Kidnapping, implied fighting, manipulation, being controlled
Some Apologies Go Nowhere - after chp 4, Kokichi tries to apologize to Shuichi. Key word there is try
No One Noticed...- What if Shiro hadn’t been the only one Replaced? TW: Abandonment, heavy doubt, replaced and not noticed
Of All People Why’d it have to be Deku? - Bakugou and Midoryia switch bodies. Chaos ensues. TW:… cussing I guess?
A Broken Disc- Spoilers for the March 1st Tommyinnit Stream TW: Major Character Death, Attempted Manipulation, Flashbacks
not again...: Nagito gets kidnapped...again TW: kidnapping, locked in small place
Goodbye Green- Who ever said the Creativity twins were supposed to be separated? TW: Morally Grey Patton, having to leave someone you care about
One Step Behind: Phil’s POV of what happened that fateful day TW: Major Character Death, Stabbing, Bleeding Out, Explosions
Adrien’s Realization
Lila Bashing fic where Adrien finally realizes that ‘Hey what Lila is doing to me isn’t good’
Chp 1- TW: Unrequited flirting, unrequited crush, Lila hate(?)
Chp 2- TW:Self doubt, bad advice
Another Path
After All Might tells Izuku he can’t be hero, Izuku decides it might be better to take another path to help people. Planned mix of actual story and chat fic
TW: slight All Might bashing
Prologue
Chp 1
Chp 2
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Sunshine
Baby’s first stucky fic! A/B/O based on a post from awhile back about omegas being soft and smelling good after laying in the sun. If I find it again I will link it!
Written because of prompting from @the1918 and @howdoyousleep3. It’s not my usual poetic musings but sometimes you just need some unadulterated fluff.
Warnings: The lightest, barest amount of angst if you squint. This work is also left ambiguous as to the history prior to this so it can be as close or as far from canon as you would like it to be!
Sunlight, unfettered and sweet filtered through the window. Cast a long glowing shadow across the light wooden flooring. The light traced the imperfection in the wood, every scratch and gorge on display. It was a sight, one made homely by the nest pooling across the floor. It was small, temporary, one built by an omega for comfort than by an alpha for home. A lump made warm and honeyed by the light rested in it’s center. Long strands of hair stuck out wildly from it, messy in a sleepy way. A way that made Steve’s heart melt into a molten, sticky mess.
He slowly made his way over, taking in the sight of his omega in a state of sound and utter peace. Bucky had burrowed face down, hiding his eyes from the light while his skin absorbed the vibrant smell that came from it. To Steve it was the smell of a happy omega. He’d never once known an omega to be sour after a sun bath, especially not Buck. Bucky always smelled like peaches, the sun ripened him till he smelled like cobbler. It was addictive, Steve’s favorite smell on earth.
He’d been watching for awhile now. Morning coffee in one hand, newspaper forgotten in the other. He watched Bucky build the nest, had offered to help but was politely ignored. Steve may have a tendency to go overboard with nests. When he’d been a skinny slip of a thing he’d committed himself to perfecting the art. It was the one alpha role he could fulfill and do truly well. He’d rent books from the library and spend hours memorizing the best techniques. It felt silly looking back but it had been one of the only providing roles he’s ever thought he could meet. Ultimately, it had been a good time investment if the nest in their bedroom was any indicator. Bucky had once joked the only thing it was missing was Steve going apeshit with a baddazler.
A massive sigh came from the Bucky shaped lump on their living room floor. The kind that only comes from complete and utter contentment. Steve couldn’t resist anymore. He set his coffee and newspaper on the dining table, never looking away from the sundrenched spot. His footsteps didn’t seem to alert Bucky in the slightest, a trust built in the space of their life together. Their home provided them both safety, safety they needed after so much of their lives spent constantly in and out of war. It was nice to finally have a physical space to call home, even if that was Bucky’s title before the four plaster walls surrounding them. He carefully stepped into the nest, straddling the space over Bucky before folding down on top of him.
Bucky jumped but settled as Steve’s nose burrowed into his neck. His skin was warm and sweet, Steve couldn’t help but get a few openmouthed kisses in so he could get a taste. Couldn’t ever get enough of Bucky, especially like this. Nearly liquid under him, Bucky’s purrs were gentle and sleepy. He worried his own rumbling would be too much, but he received no complaints as the sun warmed his back as his sun sweetened omega heated his front. It was blissful, he wished they could stay there, unmoving, for the rest of their natural lives.
The shifting beneath him seemed like it would end that wish, but Bucky had simply turned onto his back, tucking his face into Steve’s neck and getting his fill of his beloved alpha’s scent. He’d told Steve once that he smelled like pines, he wondered if the sun changed that the way it did Bucky’s. Their joined scent, something sharp and fresh with a homely edge to soften it, flooded the space around them. The sun mellowed it into a hazy cloud.
“Steve?”
“Mhm?”
“Are we still supposed to go to that charity event Tony is putting on?”
Well, that killed the mood a bit. He sighed, “Yes, we do.”
“How many rounds do you think we can get in before we have to be ready?”
The scents in the room suddenly turned deeper, mustier, Bucky shuddered beneath him. “Why don’t we find out, sugar?”
_____
The smell of sun didn’t leave. Even after fucking like they were dying, the vibrant smell lingered in unexpected places, most notably, Bucky’s hair. It made getting ready difficult on Bucky’s part.
“Steve I swear to god-”
“I’m not doing anything!”
“Get your nose out of my hair for five seconds so I can get shit put together!” Bucky hip checked him hard enough that Steve let up. Made puppy eyes at his mate’s back even as his very name was cursed to the heavens. The clacking of hangers across the rack followed him as he sat down on a chair by the closet, watched as Bucky tried to find them both outfits.
“You know Buck, you don’t have to dress me. I’m fine doing it on my own.” If looks could kill Steve may have ended up with two knives in his ribs with the way Bucky was glaring.
“Steve, there are a lot of things society expects out of me, most of which they can shove right up their asses, but I will not be the omega that lets his mate leave the house dressed like a doormat.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you dress yourself like a cardboard box, Steve.”
“I’m wounded Buck, I really am.” The pout he put on was usually successful but rarely a trick he pulled. Something about the dinner had to be stressing his poor baby out if he was this snippy after most of the day in bed.
Bucky sighed, running his fingers through his hair, still drying from the shower. “I’m sorry Stevie, it’s not your fault. There is a lot of press coverage at this event and I don’t want to give them ammunition against you.”
Oh, oh. Things were clicking now. The press had been a problem for a while now. Steve knew what Bucky meant but wasn’t saying. For some reason, a magazine company had started running slander campaigns against Bucky. In a way it was to be expected, Bucky wasn’t a traditionalist, and neither was Steve when it came down to it. They’d both dumped enough expectations for their roles in the garbage to be on equal ground but Bucky got the worst of it. Everything he did was picked apart. Most of it was laughable, but there were things that got to him, mainly those which targeted Steve. Bucky could handle more than anyone he’d ever met, but Steve had never seen him more devastated than the day four articles had come out about Steve wearing mismatched shoes. All the blame had been pinned to his poor omega. The gossip circles had labeled Bucky as neglectful. One of the few “omega specific” tasks he was known to partake in was dressing Steve. When they had been nothing more than two starving Brooklyn kids, Bucky had been determined to take care of Steve when his body shit out on him. One of the few things he’d let Bucky truly do was dress him. They had a rhythm, tops always went on first. Unless he was too weak to lift his arms Bucky would simply pass shirts, jackets, and coats for Steve to do himself. Most days Bucky only put his feet through the legs of his pants for him, letting Steve pull them up when he stood. There were plenty of times on the other hand, where Buck had needed to vault Steve into standing by his belt loops so they could get him up long enough to get his pants on.
Steve knew all of this, very well in fact, but the media didn't. They hadn’t seen Bucky, eighteen with only a few dollars to his name, beaten and worn down. Hadn’t seen the exhaustion skittering across every nerve. Didn’t know that despite being dead on his feet, Bucky would always make sure Steve was taken care of first. No one deserved the level of disrespect going on, but Bucky shouldn’t have even been on the radar. The shoe mix up had been his own fault. Bucky had been sick, throwing up at even the slightest suggestion of light. He had gotten dressed in the dark and ran to the store, hadn’t even thought about what he might look like, laser focused on his task instead. Bucky needed medicine and Steve needed Bucky well. That was all he had thought at the time.
“Buck, we don’t have to go.”
Eyes fluttered to the side, Bucky wouldn’t look at him. “I want to go, and it wouldn’t be fair to Tony to leave him to the dogs like that.”
Steve nearly snorted, Tony wouldn’t notice them failing to pop in, and even if he did it wouldn’t be remembered the next morning.
“Sweetheart,” He stood up, went and placed both his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky peaked at him from the corner of his eyes. “You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable to make others comfortable. We can stay home, watch a movie, order some take-out.”
Bucky looked over his shoulder at their closet. He held himself like he was expecting something to jump out at him, like a timer was set to go off any second to spell some horrible doom. Steve wanted to call it right then and there, force them to stay home, but Bucky would fight him on it and go out of spite. He cupped the side of his darling mate’s face and coaxed him into eye contact. Blue and grey met and blended, met and crashed, met and free fell backwards into each other. There was trust, so much trust. It bellied his own concerns, left him hovering there waiting for an answer. Bucky would make the choice he needed too, even if it wasn’t the one Steve would have made for him. From day one he had sworn to be an alpha Bucky could respect, one that he would be proud to stand by. Part of that was letting go in moments like this. He looked into those eyes, the ones that belonged to his heart, and sent a silent message. It’s your choice. Your call. I will follow you wherever you take me, us. It was intense even for such a simple choice, but that was always how it was between them.
Bucky’s nose turned into his wrist, silent puffs of air sliding over his skin as Bucky drew in his scent. He closed his eyes for a few time-stopping seconds before those haunting grey eyes peaked beneath fluttering lashes.
“...Let’s stay home.” A smile turned the corner of his lips, an expression Steve would never stop loving. “But I get to pick the movie. You’re still on a two week probation after making me watch Baby Driver.”
Steve couldn’t resist dipping down, stealing a kiss across slightly chapped lips. The kiss stolen at the end of his love’s sentence was sweet. The traces of sunlight only made it sweeter.
#Stucky#siliqua writes#marvel#steve rogers#bucky barnes#abo#alpha/beta/omega verse#this originally was going to have some smut but alas#it hindered me so it had to go#hopefully I but at least a decent foot forward
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Writer Castiel
4/12/20 - I have wanted to be a writer since I was ten years old, so maybe I’m biased here, but I absolutely adore the idea of Cas being an author if he lived a different life!
Tabula Rasa by Dangerousnotbroken on AO3. (78,240 words).
Tags: Writer Castiel, Bartender Dean, Past Relationship, Pervasive Themes of Memory, Magic, Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Mental Illness, Witches, Ghosts, Bi!Dean, Bi!Castiel, Referenced Past Minor Character Death, Angst, Slow Burn, Memory Loss.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: Once upon a time, Castiel Novak had everything. He had a happy home life, a full scholarship, and, if he played his cards right, a promising journalism career. And on top of all of that, he had Dean. Then tragedy struck, as it tends to do, and Castiel lost everything. At thirty six, he’s got none of those things. He’s got no family to speak of. He’s got a job investigating purportedly true tales of the supernatural for a magazine no one reads. And worst of all he hasn’t seen Dean in nearly twenty years. So when research for an article turns him on to a witch who apparently grants wishes in exchange for stories, Castiel figures it’s worth the risk. If making a deal with a witch can get him Dean back, what has he got to lose?
Notes: This was absolutely amazing; both written beautifully and with a fantastic plot.
the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance on AO3. (31,820 words).
Tags: Horror, Psychological Trauma, Domestic Violence.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.
Notes: Excellently written, made me cry, and the ending was brilliant. Technically it isn’t tagged as Cas being a writer, but he does write some poetry throughout, and I couldn’t help myself.
Lost and Found by whelvenwings on AO3. (7,762 words).
Tags: Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Demisexual Castiel.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: “Chuck Shurley? Sure, I’ve read his books. Kinda Vonnegut, but like, Kilgore-Trout Vonnegut, you know?” Dean took another gulp of his whisky, and smacked his lips like an adult. The guy sitting beside him at the bar, however, did not look suitably impressed. In fact, he was staring down into the bubbles of his cider, not even noticing the way that Dean was smiling at him, giving him the eyes.
“I thought his stuff was pretty good, in a kinda metamodern way,” Dean added airily, and a little more loudly.
The guy only nodded gloomily. Dean almost clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in frustration. C’mon, dude, I’m trying to impress you. Twenty minutes of talking and all Dean had to show for it was a weird first name, a series of dour stares and the strangest need to know more about this – Castiel.
Notes: This was written so well that I wanted to cry at Cas’ story of the stars, even though it wasn’t particularly sad. Now I want to go and stargaze with someone.
The House on the Ocean Road by coffeeandcas on AO3. (111,351 words).
Tags: Single Parent Castiel, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Hurt Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Car Accidents, Past Character Death, Adopted Children, Mentions of Suicide, Slow Burn, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Near Death Experiences, Hospitals, Explicit Sexual Content, POV Dean.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: Dean Winchester is on the run from his life. He's done something unforgivable, and can't face his family or friends ever again. So he does what any rational person would do: fakes his own death and vanishes into the ether. Wandering aimlessly along country roads, he succumbs to the elements during a violent storm and wakes up hours later in the home of a stranger: a single dad living alone in an isolated beach house, with a haunting past of his own. Cas is sweet and shy, but welcomes Dean into his home and tells him he can stay as long as he needs, never prying into his life or asking him to spill his secrets. As they rapidly forge a close friendship, Dean finds that the quiet life by the ocean with Cas is exactly what he's been dreaming of. He only hopes his past never catches up with him.
Notes: This was so gorgeous and the plot was fabulous! Also, I loved Jimmy, and Dean and Cas as parents were adorable. Weirdest use of Cole’s character that I’ve ever seen though.
What Can’t Be Seen by destieldrabblesdaily on AO3. (2,639 words).
Tags: Soulmate AU, author!Cas, Strangers to Lovers, First Kiss.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: Written for this prompt: Soulmate AU where you first see color after eye contact: Cas is a famous best selling author and he’s promoting his book, so he’s talking to a crowd of people and suddenly his world is in color, and a lot of his fans pretend to be his soulmate. A Cinderella type situation ensues.
Notes: This was really cute and such a sweet and funny idea.
(un)conventional by imogenbynight on AO3. (6,100 words).
Tags: Alternate Universe, mechanic!Dean, Writer!Castiel, Conventions, Fluff.
My Rating: 5 stars.
Description: Spec Lit Con--Speckly Con, to it’s regular attendees--is an annual weekend-long event held in Chicago, dedicated to science fiction, fantasy and otherwise speculative literature. This year Dean's favorite author, C.J. Novak, is appearing as a panelist. Naturally, he shells out the cash for an all access pass.
Notes: This was so adorable that I nearly screamed in the corridor outside my computer science lesson. Plus, the writing was absolutely gorgeous! I miss conventions :(
I Think That’s Mine by palominopup on AO3. (6,804 words).
Tags: Fluff, AU, Reporter!Dean, Writer!Cas.
My Rating: 4 stars.
Description: A mix up at the Atlanta Airport places Dean Winchester's laptop in someone else's possession. A series of calls and texts bring two men together.
Notes: This was so cute, Cas was so sweet, and Dean was an icon.
‘Star Wars is Overrated’ by leftdragonpainter on AO3. (38,186 words).
Tags: Soulmates, Pining, Drinking, Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Neighbours, Swearing, Winchester Logic, Clueless Dean, College Student Sam, Awkward Dates, Dean Cooks, Castiel in Glasses, Slow Burn, Injured Sam, Fixing Cars, Smut, Costumes, Drunk Texting, Temporary Amnesia, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending.
My Rating: 4 stars.
Description: When Dean Winchester turned sixteen he was disappointed by the words that appeared on his chest. He never expected that it would take so much to find his soulmate. He never expected to not remember meeting them...
Tags: Every time I thought I knew what was going to happen in this fic, something completely different happened, which I loved.
Event Horizon by Winglesss on AO3. (6,442 words).
Tags: Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Dean, Depression, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Past Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Texting, Sharing a Bed, Happy Ending, Veteran Dean, Doctor Dean, Writer Castiel, Strangers.
My Rating: 4 stars.
Description: Castiel couldn't have helped his sister. That's why being offered a chance to help somebody else dealing with suicidal thoughts he took it without hesitation.
When he gets the first text from someone who needs his help, nothing goes as he expected.
Notes: I don’t know if that kind of suicide prevention scheme exists, but this fic is very sweet.
Darkly Dreaming Dean by Duckyboos on AO3. (29,008 words).
Tags: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Alternate Universe - Police, Detective Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Serial Killer Dean, Alternate Universe - Dexter, Established Relationship, Murder, Top Dean, Bottom Castiel, Anal Sex, Innocent Castiel.
My Rating: 3 stars.
Description: Dean Winchester has the perfect apple pie life with his shy-but-sweet boyfriend in the suburbs. He has a steady, well-paid job with the LAPD and he’s charming and attractive. Really, he’s living the American Dream. It’s his extra-curricular activities that some may disagree with, as he’s also an accomplished serial killer. To date, his kills amount to around 36 and he’s never been caught. He’s employed by the law, remember? He knows how these things work.
*
A new serial killer arrives on the scene and despite the sloppiness of their work, Dean is intrigued by them and what they're trying to achieve, because their MO is the same as his; killing bad people.
He makes it his mission to track the other killer down before the police do, and he’s left reeling when the 'Basin Vigilante' turns out to be someone a lot closer to home than he could have ever imagined.
Notes: I sort of watched Dexter a few years ago, and I absolutely love the idea of Dean as a vigilante serial killer. I only wish that the synopsis was a bit different, so the end was more of a surprise.
Finding Home by Desirae on AO3. (42,828 words).
Tags: Baker Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, PTSD, Past Childhood Trauma, Childhood Kidnapping, Mistaken Identity, Dean Whump, Castiel Whump, Best Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex, Fluff, Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending.
My Rating: 3 stars.
Description: Dean Winchester lived a quiet life running his bakery. Aside from family, Dean had no desire to let anyone inside. The more people you cared about, the more you had to lose; A hard lesson he'd learned at the tender age of eight when Dean’s best friend was kidnapped right before his eyes. Dean was forever haunted by the event, although he hadn’t realized quite how much until Emmanuel James Milton breezed into his life; waking his sleeping heart with a complete lack filter and achingly familiar eyes. An author, with no family and traumatic past of his own, Emmanuel never felt like he belonged anywhere until he walked into The Honeybee Bakery and met Dean. It’s not long before they find out that there is a reason for their profound bond.
Notes: It was obvious what was going on here from the start, but that just made it even cuter as they fell in love again.
I think it is a shame we didn’t get more human Cas content, but I guess it is too late now. I hope you enjoy these fics, and if you ever have a specific list you want me to make, feel free to ask!
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Multi-fandom fic masterlist
Spider-Man fics:
Series: Hello my Old Heart— post-Endgame, Tony is alive, iron fam fluff with Harley, mostly comedy, a lot of domestic interactions with some general superhero hijinks
Series: Our Nation Turns It’s Lonely Eyes To You— canon-compliant, post-Endgame, Peter and Harley working together, grieving-but-getting-better Peter
Series: Feel Good Inc.-- Harley Keener/ Peter Parker, Parkner, field trip fic, very little emotional toll they’re just boys having fun, the fics in it will be listed individually
Fic: Everything I’ve Loved Has Turned to Stone— Set during Endgame, Tony visits Harley during the five years, angsty but kind
Fic: Carry On— Iron fam Supernatural AU, Peter & Harley hunting monsters, the collective Iron Fam raising Morgan
Fic: Whumptober 2019— the Whumptober drabbles I wrote!
Fic: Into the Sony-Verse— I made this as a joke during the Sony & Disney showdown and it’s Peter getting thrown into Miles’s Manhattan
Fic: For Blue, Blue Skies— Comic-verse, a look at Harry and Peter’s friendship, canon-compliant to Harry’s death, cathartic
Fic: It Builds Up, Then it Breaks Down-- PS4 game, if Peter had decided to save Aunt May, mostly angst
Fic: Fever Dream-- Alternate Universe, temporary amnesia (kinda), slow updates, no powers, iron fam
Fic: Or Whatever Parenting Books Might Say-- sick day fic, Peter meets the other Avengers, iron dad, heart-to-heart, iron dad
Fic: Lights Up-- Part of “Our Nation Turns Its Lonely Eyes to You”, time travel, reunion between Peter and Tony, a fix-it of sorts but more of a mental fix-it than an actual problem solver, one of the fics I’m most proud of, Peter’s grief is explored
Fic: Obligatory Field Trip Fic-- Harley Keener/ Peter Parker, Parkner, Midtown goes to Stark & Harley is a good boyfriend and Tony is a dad, that’s about it, part of “Feel Good Inc.”
Fic: Rising Action-- Harley Keener/ Peter Parker, Parkner, Twitter has decided Peter Parker is dating Spider-Man, Kraven rolls up to town, MJ is a decently big character, part of “Feel Good Inc.”
Fic: Moral of the Story-- Identity reveal, Flash redemption, heart-to-heart (kind of), implied iron dad
Fic: I and Love and You— iron family fluff, Morgan and Peter bonding, Pepper, May, and Tony are parents
Fic: Pressed Flowers-- Pushing Daisies AU, angst and fluff, Parker (Harley Keener/ Peter Parker), Morgan and Peter’s sibling relationship, Tony is Peter’s dad, post-endgame, fix-it kinda
Fic: Imposter Syndrome-- sequel to Pressed Flowers, angst and fluff, Parker (Harley Keener/ Peter Parker), friend road trip shenanigans, it’s important you know I love Flash Thompson, in-progress
Fic: Good Grief-- post-endgame, post-ffh, Peter gets a tattoo in Tony’s honor, one-shot
Fic: Best Perspective-- GwenMJ, Ultimate Frisbee AU, MJ is a disaster gay but in her defense how do you NOT fall in love with Gwen Stacy?
MCU fics:
Fic: Blood of the Covenant-- Rhodey’s POV, one-shot, spans the MCU and his relationship with Tony, post-endgame elements
IT fics:
Fic: Presumably Dead Arm-- Reddie, Fake dating fic, no-Pennywise Au, they’re teenagers, ongoing/multi-chapter, pining
Fic: Used 2 Be a Romantic-- Reddie, Eddie ghost AU, post-chapter 2, the best thing I’ve ever written probably, angst
Fic: Bro Homo-- Reddie, Comedy, The Bro Duet, just guys being dudes just dudes being gay, love confessions
The Adventure Zone:
Fic: Defense Against The Dark Farts-- TAZ Balance, Harry Potter AU, Taako is the DatDA professor, comedy, Angus is here
#iron dad#iron fam#iron dad and spider son#spider-man#spiderman#Peter parker#harley keener#Tony stark#iron fam fic#iron dad fic#masterlist#it#it chapter 2#it movies#it fic#iron dad fanfiction#parkner#Harley Keener/Peter parker#peter parker/harley keener#taz#taz balance#the adventure zone#reddie#reddie fic#iron family whump#iron family angst#iron family fluff#ao3#my fics#my fic
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🏐 Long Way Down; Morisuke Yaku (Sportember #007)
📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Word Count: 1,925
Pairing: Reader x Yaku
World: Haikyuu!!
Prompt: “Life is walking on a tightrope, with nothing but a blindfold. It’s a long way down.”
Sport: Volleyball
WARNING: This fic contains depression and self-harm. If this is a trigger for you, please do not read.
━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━
When people looked at you, they saw a cheerful third-year so full of life and ambition. And why wouldn’t you be? You attended a good school, your family didn’t have financial problems, you came from a loving family, blessed with parents that loved you and supported everything you decided to do. Your grades were above average, you were athletic, selfless, and willing to give the shirt off your back if someone needed it. Your classmates called you perfect, but you weren’t. Far from it.
No one knew about the demons that you battled on a daily basis. No one knew that you cried yourself to sleep nearly every night. No one knew just how much you were suffering, how much you hated yourself. In your mind, you simply weren’t good enough, not strong enough, despite people telling you that you were. With every decision, you felt regret. With every compliment, you wanted to tell them that they were wrong. But people expected you to be happy, to cheer them up when they were feeling down.
What would everyone think if they knew the truth? If they knew what a depressed mess that you were, barely holding on… You wanted nothing more than to be the person people believed you to be, but you just weren’t strong enough to meet everyone’s expectations.
When your depression finally reached its peak, you knew you had to do something, so you met up with your friend in a small coffee shop far enough away from Nekoma high to avoid any of your classmates. The two of you had been close since middle school, but she had chosen a different high school so you didn’t get to hang out with each other as often anymore. At first, she was cheerful, asking why you suddenly wanted to meet up, but when you explained your situation, her face went blank.
“Is this a joke?” Her voice was deathly calm, but rage was swirling within her dark eyes.
You frowned, wringing your hands nervously in your lap. “No. Why would I -”
“Give me a break!” She suddenly snapped, her fist making the table rattle when it made contact. “Little perfect Y/N is depressed? You have no right to be depressed, bitch. Your family doesn’t struggle to pay bills, your parents don’t hate each other’s guts. You have people kissing the ground you walk on! You don’t have to worry about being held back because you can’t make the grade, but you’re depressed?” She scoffed in disbelief, quickly standing up. “No, you’re just a greedy, self-centered little cunt that has to have everyone’s attention just to be happy!”
Tears stung at your eyes as your friend left the cafe with a huff. Guilt filled your entire being as her words rang out in your mind. ‘She’s right… I was so wrapped up in my own feelings, I didn’t stop to consider hers. She’s going through so much and I… I’m a terrible human being.’ You bit your lip hard to muffle your sobs as you held your face in your hands, tears sliding down your warm cheeks.
No one within the cafe even batted an eye in your direction.
━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━
Since that meeting with your friend, you’ve found it harder and harder to keep your emotions in check. It was like your negative emotions were demons locked behind a steel door, constantly slamming their bodies against it to try and break it open, but the padlocks were holding strong. At least until your friend broke one of them off. Now, that door is rattling more violently, the screws slowly but surely being knocked loose.
How much longer before they broke the door down? What would happen then? You felt so terrified and so very alone.
There were many options to help curb the pain. Temporary distractions to let you feel normal and happy for a short amount of time. False hope in the form of alcohol or drugs, self-harm or even violence. You decided to start cutting yourself – just one or two marks on your stomach at first, then your inner thighs and chest. Anywhere that couldn’t be seen in your uniform. It wasn’t long before it became your addiction, a fix you couldn’t make it through the day without. It made everything so much more bearable, but you were beginning to run out of free space.
You started to wear long sleeves even when it was ungodly hot, the sweat clinging to the wounds and making them burn slightly. With your attention on the physical pain, the demons behind the door started to calm. It was an incredible feeling, making the pain worth it.
If people noticed your change in attitude, they didn’t seem too bothered by it. Most assumed you were just trying to be quirky, and they started wearing long-sleeved sweaters, too, thinking it was just a fashion trend that you were starting.
There was one person that couldn’t be fooled, though, and he was starting to grow quite concerned.
━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━
When you showed up to help with the volleyball team’s afternoon practice, the boys gave you weird looks. It was the middle of summer, the heat climbing to its peak, yet you were dressed in the winter gym uniform as if it were twenty degrees. They were on the fence about bringing this up but ultimately decided against it. The problem was that Kenma lacked a filter.
“Y/N-san, why are you dressed like that? I feel hot just looking at you.”
You had gotten used to comments like these and just smiled it off. “I like it!”
Yaku scowled, his hand resting on his hip. “I don’t care if you like it. Go put on the other uniform before you die of heatstroke!” He was feeling frustrated because he had already told you that the AC in the gym was broken, but you just didn’t seem to care. He could clearly see you sweating and he knew you were feeling hot. ‘Y/N doesn’t seem to care much for anything these days…’
You tried to brush off the comment, but something about his tone really irked you and you just snapped. “You’re not my damn dad, Yaku, don’t think you can just order me around!”
Yaku and the rest of the team froze in shock, staring at you as if you had just spouted an extra head. In all of the time that they had known you, you had never raised your voice to any of them or even gotten upset with them, and especially not with Yaku, who you were easily the closest to.
The sudden silence made you realize your mistake and you quickly faked a laugh, rubbing the back of your head. “Just kidding~!”
The team visibly relaxed and Yamamoto stepped up to slap your shoulder, making you wince for multiple reasons. “Good one, Y/N! You really had us going there!”
“Thank you,” you quickly turned on your heel before heading into the storage room to catch your breath. You were so caught up in cursing yourself for your reaction that you didn’t hear the footsteps coming after you or the sound of the door being slid closed.
“Y/N.”
You nearly jumped out of your skin, whirling around with your hand over your heart and forcing a smile on your lips. “You scared me, Yaku! Guess that’s karma for the joke, huh?”
He frowned. “When are you going to stop with the fake smiles?”
Your smile faltered a bit. “I don -”
“Stop lying!” He scowled, hands balling into fists at his sides. “What’s happened to you, Y/N? You’ve become so fake lately.”
The words were like arrows piercing your skin and you lowered your head, biting hard on your bottom lip. ‘He’s right. What have I become? Why am I so damn pathetic?’
For a moment, he just watched you, his dark eyes taking in every slight movement that your body made. The subtle quiver of your chain. The light jolting of your shoulders. The way clamped so tightly onto your lip. You were in pain, that much was obvious, but… why? What was causing you so much distress?
“I can’t do this anymore…” your voice was soft, barely reaching his ears. “I’m just so tired, Yaku. I just want everything to… to stop.” Your legs gave out beneath you, body crumbling to the ground, which caused him to race forward on instinct.
“Y/N -” He reached for your hand and froze, eyes widening when he noticed the thin trail of blood rolling down from beneath your sleeve, coming from the wound that Yamamoto had reopened when he smacked your shoulder. With his heart hammering in his ears, his fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, carefully sliding the sleeve of your sweater up. What he saw made his stomach turn.
Dozens of cuts, big and small, littered your skin, some old, some new, some scabbed over and bright red. The older ones were in short, straight lines across your arm, but the newer ones were clearly done with haste, criss-crossing and varying in length. As his finger gently traced the healing wounds, he could feel your desperation increasing with each cut.
“Pathetic, right?” You chuckled bitterly. “I have everything, but it’s just not enough. It’s never enough…”
Yaku tugged on your wrist, pulling you into his warm, protective embrace. “Idiot, why didn’t you come to me?”
Tears fell from your eyes in droves as you clung to his jersey. “I-I was so sc-scared,” you sobbed into his chest. “I don’t – I don’t want you to… to h-hate me!”
His arms tightened around your body. “I could never hate you, Y/N. Why would you think that?”
Reluctantly, you told him about your friend, feeling his body tensing up against yours. “I’m so-sorry…”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice was warm and soft, his grip firm as he took you by the shoulders, pushing your body backward so he could meet your eyes. “Listen to me. It doesn’t matter what you have or don’t have, depression is an illness. It doesn’t see social status or material objects, it affects everyone equally. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N, but you can’t just leave it unchecked. You have to tell your family.”
The thought sent a wave of fear and panic throughout your body and you frantically shook your head. “N-No, I can’t…!”
“You can,” he assured you. “And I’ll be right there beside you. You’re not alone, Y/N, this team cares deeply for you. I care deeply for you and I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”
“Yaku…” your eyes shimmered as a fresh round of tears fell down your cheeks.
He leaned forward, lips pressing softly to your forehead. “I will always be here for you, no matter what. But you have to promise me something.”
You frowned, fingers curling around the end of his jersey. “What is it?”
His thumb brushed beneath your eye, gathering your tears. “Promise me that you won’t hurt yourself anymore. When you get the urge to do so, come to me. I’ll beat that desire into submission!”
Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile at his declaration, nuzzling your face into his neck. Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but he knew what the words were as your lips formed them against his skin. “I promise.”
And you meant them with every fiber of your being. Suddenly, the world didn’t seem quite so dark, quite so heavy upon your shoulders.
━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━
#sportemberwritings#sportember#yaku morisuke#morisuke yaku#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#anime#writing#creative writing#writeblr#scenario#scenarios#anime scenarios#anime scenario#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfics#anime fanfic#anime fanfics#reader insert#reader-insert#reader#one shot#angst#fluff#sportember 20
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TSB September Flash, Week 4 Roundup!
AND THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE, FOLKS! At least, until our next round starts in a couple weeks...
For our participants, remember to go claim your badges!
If you wanna be a participant in Round Four and you’re not yet, go sign up!
And for all of you... make sure you leave the creators below some love!
Title: Her Epilogue
Collaborator: Fighting_for_Creativity
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 023 - Epilogue
Ship: Peggy/Daniel
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Tony remembers, Daniel needs a Hug, Peggy needs a hug, everyone gets a hug, Angst with Happy Ending, AI Peggy, Canonical Character Death
Summary: On the day of Peggy Carter's funeral, Tony remembers snippets of his childhood with her and Daniel Sousa.
Word Count: 2196
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Title: Harley Keener (and a very not-to-scale Potato Gun Mark I)
Collaborator: newnewyorker93
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 022 - Harley Keener
Ship: None
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: crafts, Iron Man 3
Summary: Felt figure of Harley Keener and his potato gun from Iron Man 3.
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Title: Are we There Yet?
Collaborator: tisfan
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 024 - Bleeding Edge
Ship: Tony/Logan
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Kidnapping, Roughed Up
Summary: Tony gets kidnapped. Again. You’d really think bad guys would learn better.
Word Count: 598
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Title: Fated to Telling Only Lies
Collaborator: Politzania
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 023 - Epilogue
Ship: WinterIron
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Canonical Character Deaths, canon divergence, Winter Soldier POV
Summary: After his mission to eliminate the elder Stark, the Soldier is assigned to befriend the Stark heir and win him over to the cause. But there’s something about Tony Stark that just might loosen the Fist of Hydra’s grip on his goal.
Word Count: 1413
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Title: Smells Like Teenage Drama
Collaborator: MagicaDraconia16
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 027 - Peter Parker
Ship: Tony/Rhodey/Loki/Rhodey/Strange & Peter
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Teenage drama, Peter Parker is scarred for life, implied/referenced 5-way poly (as above), way too many father figures
Summary: When you're a teenage superhero, it's bad enough to have one father figure, never mind two or three. Let alone five. Peter Parker would like to reiterate: he is not a child!
Word Count: 2638
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Title: F.R.I.D.A.Y. I’m in Love
Collaborator: eachpeachpearplum
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 023 - FRIDAY
Ship: Tony & FRIDAY
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: music, art
Summary: Tony sing as he works, and FRIDAY is just as sassy as her brother was.
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Title: An Arctic Adventure
Collaborator: lemon_juices
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 027 - Sight
Ship: pre-Stony
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: merpeople AU, ocean sex
Summary: Featuring Steve Rogers, a marine biologist in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. Also featuring Tony Stark, a merman who lives in the Arctic Ocean. When Steve first sets his eyes on Tony he can't stop thinking about him, and Tony can't forget about Steve. Another trip to the frigid cold ocean and let's see what happens...
Word Count: 2572
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Title: Centrifugal Force
Collaborator: tisfan
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 024 - Taste
Ship: Teen
Rating: WinterIron
Major Tags: temporary amnesia, not single crying meme, alcoholism, bad coping mechanisms, playground
Summary: “That sounds like one of my very bad, no good ideas,” Tony confessed. “Usually,” the man said.
Word Count: 588
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Title: It’s Only a Paper Moon - Chapter 3
Collaborator: sierranovembr
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 025 - Sound
Ship: WinterIron
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Depiction of a mental asylum, established relationship, Edwin Jarvis
Summary: Fighting aliens alongside Captain America? A loving, supportive fiancé who overlooks the many flaws of Tony Stark? Tony often thought his life was too amazing to be real. He might be right about that.
Word Count: 1370
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Title: New Family Members
Collaborator: fightingforcreativity
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 023 - FRIDAY
Ship: Tony with whoever you choose
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Cute, Bots, Bot Family, Tony’s army of bots
Summary: Tony really shouldn’t tinker after watching a movie and running on little to no sleep. Albeit… Maybe he should do it more often.
Word Count: 735
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Title: What’s in a Name?
Collaborator: Politzania
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 023 - FRIDAY
Ship: Tony & FRIDAY
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: Drabble, slice of life
Summary: Tony explains to his latest creation where her name came from.
Word Count: 100
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Title: True Colours
Collaborator: lbibliophile-mcu
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 022 - Thoughts
Ship: none
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: motivational poster
Summary: Hold your head high, wear your colours, proud. Don’t be afraid to stand out from the crowd.
------------------------------------------
Title: all those shadows (almost killed your light)
Collaborator: dixiehellcat
Link: AO3
Squares Filled: 026 - Chapter 1, Infinity Gauntlet; chapter 2, Morgan Stark; chapter 3, smell; chapter 4, alternative POV; chapter 5, PTSD
Ship: Pepperony
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie). Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Tony Stark Lives, the Russos whomst, idk them, back on my brand, Carol Danvers is a Good Bro, Prosthetics, Body Modification, Nightmares. Tony Stark Needs a Hug. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Summary: Post-Endgame, Tony’s life is a healing process.
Word Count: 3759
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Title: Before They Outlaw the Kiss
Collaborator: ralsbecket
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 026 - Alternate POV
Ship: Stony
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: N/A
Summary: Steve must have had an awfully pained expression on his face without realizing because before he knew it, Tony was getting up from his seat beside him and extending a hand. “Dance with me,” he requested, smiling at him softly.
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Title: Touch
Collaborator: SaganaRojanaOlt
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 023 - Touch
Ship: WinterIron
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Art
Summary: N/A
Word Count: N/A
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Title: Family Reunion
Collaborator: Politzania
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 023 - Touch
Ship: Pepperony
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: Post Avengers: Infinity War, domestic fluff, ‘bot fic
Summary: Tony and Pepper introduce Morgan to her older siblings.
Word Count: 1071
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Title: ARC-reactor
Collaborator: Menatiera
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 027 - ARC-reactor
Ship: none
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: arc reactor, polymer clay
Summary: they’re tiny! :)
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Title: War Machine
Collaborator: Fighting_for_Creativity
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 023 - War Machine
Ship: Tony/Rhodey
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Soft, Hurt/Comfort, Rhodey POV, Tony needs a hug and gets one
Summary: The whole 'acquiring a suit by any means' situation sucked big time. Good thing Rhodey knew where his loyalties ultimately lay. Also, pretending to steal something from Tony at least meant that Rhodey could spend some time with him beforehand.
Word Count: 1131
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Title: War Machine
Collaborator: SaganaRojanaOlt
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 023 - War Machine
Ship: None
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: art
Summary: War Machine Art
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Title: On the watch
Collaborator: Menatiera
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 027 - Peter Parker
Ship: Stuckony
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Winter on a mission, Bucky and Winter are separate personalities, happy ending
Summary: The Winter Soldier takes his missions seriously. This Mark shouldn't cause any troubles. And then he does.
Word Count: 3427
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Title: Insomnia
Collaborator: SaganaRojanaOlt
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 023 - Insomnia
Ship: None
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: art
Summary: Tony Stark art
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Title: Drifting, Falling, Floating Weightless
Collaborator: MagicaDraconia16
Link: AO3
Squares Filled: 027 - Image: Drift (adopted - ch1) | Nightmares (ch2)
Ship: Pepperony
Rating: Teen
Major Tags: Angst, nightmares, post Infinity War, during Endgame, mentions of panic attacks
Summary: After the Battle of New York, Tony was plagued by nightmares of space. The events of the immediate aftermath of the Infinity War have not made things better.
Word Count: 1476
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Title: Birth of an AI
Collaborator: SaganaRojanaOlt
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 023 - FRIDAY
Ship: none
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: art
Summary: Tony and FRIDAY art
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Title: Battery Now Included
Collaborator: MagicaDraconia16
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 027 - Arc Reactor
Ship: Tony & The Bots
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: An overabundance of bot feels?
Summary: When Tony returns home from Afghanistan, the bots notice that something has changed...
Word Count: 386
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Title: Sight
Collaborator: Menatiera
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 027 - Sight
Ship: Stuckony
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: retired!steve, blind!steve, happy!steve
Summary: Moodboard and summary. Steve goes blind and retires - much to his boyfriends Tony’s and Bucky’s bafflement.
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Title: Happily ever after
Collaborator: SaganaRojanaOlt
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 023 - Epilogue
Ship: Steve/Sam
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: art
Summary: art of Sam and Steve
------------------------------------------
Title: Wanna Be Somebody to Someone
Collaborator: ralsbecket
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 026 - MIT Years (adopted square)
Ship: Stony
Rating: Mature
Major Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, MIT Era, Football Player Steve Rogers, Twink Tony Stark, Engineer Tony Stark, Howard Stark’s Good Parenting, TwinkTonyEvent, Crush at First Sight, One-Sided Attraction, (or so he thinks), (Steve’s an oblivious awkward doof), Dirty Thoughts, Masturbation, Hopeful Ending, unedited because we die as men
Summary: Steve Rogers thought that he was fairly observant. He had to be when he was on the field; it was the sole reason he was offered a full-ride scholarship to be a tight-end for Boston University’s football team. But he learned embarrassingly quickly that his one blind spot involved a lanky-limbed, spectacle-wearing, tousle-haired brunet.
Word Count: 2573
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Title: Heart of Iron - the movie night
Collaborator: Menatiera
Link: AO3
Square Filled: 027 - Director commentary
Ship: Pepperony
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: heart of iron - the documentary, the stark family watches the documentary about tony together, peter parker pov, endgame fix-it, retired tony stark
Summary: “You must be kidding me,” Peter said. It’s not like he wasn’t willing to sacrifice himself in many ways for the greater good (which in this case meant the happiness of his chosen people), but he figured there should be a line to draw in the sand even in that regard. Tony apparently wasn’t on the same page, because he raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Either this or you can watch Trolls with Morgan again; it’s your choice.”
Word Count: 4250
------------------------------------------
Title: Reveal on skin
Collaborator: Menatiera
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 027 - Nightmares
Ship: Stuckony
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: moodboard, cursed!tony
Summary: Moodboard and summary. Villain of the Week casts a curse on Tony to “reveal his true nature on his skin”. Instead of horrors, though, Tony’s hands start to resemble the night sky with thousands of stars.
------------------------------------------
Title: Rock-a-bye Tony
Collaborator: lbibliophile-mcu
Link: Tumblr
Square Filled: 022 - Rescue
Ship: IronHusbands
Rating: Gen
Major Tags: edit
Summary: Tony crash-lands, and Rhodey is no help at all. “Rock-a-bye Tony in the tree tops…”
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tagged by @oykamu but i originally nabbed it from @sarking.
all these answers come with the caveat that there are certainly exceptions to most of them and i may have even written those exceptions. if anyone wants to play along, do eet.
→ Slow burn or love at first sight?:
however, there's slow burn and then there's dragging it out pointlessly. i say no to the latter.
→ Fake dating or secretly dating:
fake dating with elements of mutual pining, yes.
→ “Oh no, there’s only one bed” or and long distance correspondence: these are not mutually exclusive and therefore i choose both. there are precious few believable ways that "there's only one bed" would happen in Georgian/Regency/Victorian times, so there go several of my fandoms, which hardly seems fair.
→ Hurt/comfort or amnesia:
with the caveat that i prefer emotional hurt/comfort or hurt that's mostly comfort. also, i'm borrowing @sarking's assertion that amnesia is a sub-genre of h/c because therefore i get both and good god almighty do i love amnesia fic.
→ Enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers:
they can be enemies to friends to lovers, but i'm not particularly interested in reading about people who don't (eventually) love each other in some fashion. (although i’ve written it.)
→ Mutual pining or and domestic bliss:
pining that leads to domestic bliss, yes, because these aren’t mutually exclusive, either. i usually like my pining to be oblivious, or at least uncertain, for actual believable reasons rather than just flimsy plot devices. i love a character’s transition from yearning for someone they think they'll never be with, and then the tremulous joy in finding their feelings reciprocated. look, i imprinted on anne shirley/gilbert blythe at a very young age. blame l.m. montgomery.
→ Smut or and fluff:
again, not mutually exclusive. i like both, separately and together.
→ Fantasy au or modern au:
i'm not into magical creatures, per se (though i like greek mythology type stuff). having said that, i do like magic as a normal in-universe aspect and for some reason i am a sucker for harry potter fusions, despite having zero interest in the novels themselves. i also love daemon AUs? however, as far as wider fandom is concerned, fantasy seems to mostly mean 'creatures' and i prefer my characters to remain human. (although there's one mmfr fic i really like in which furiosa stumbles into a magical curse and spends most of the fic as a cat, so there's another exception.)
→ Alternative universe or future fic:
AU because technically future fic can be considered AU and therefore i can have my cake and eat it.
→ Kid fic or road trip fic:
no kid fic. unless the kid is canon, which is rare, but still, i don't want it to be the focus of the fic. (having said that, one of my WIPs features an original child character and i just don't even know who i am anymore.)
→ Canon compliant/missing scenes or fix-it:
this is so haaaaaaaaaard because i adore interstitial fic. but, ultimately, i want my characters to be happy (or at least happier than they are in canon) and that usually requires fixing.
→ Reincarnation or character death:
NOBODY DIES. or if they do it’s temporary and they are always meant to be together in every universe la la la i can’t hear you and your earth logic.
→ Time travel or isolated together:
i'm not super into time travel unless it's a 'go back in time to fix things' type of thing. and characters being isolated together is just delicious.
→ High school romance or middle aged romance:
HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME CHOOSE??? i love high school AUs. but there’s a lot more scope in middle-aged romance.
→ Arranged marriage or accidental marriage:
accidental marriage scenarios tend to be predicated either on people being so drunk they're incompetent, or being part of something when they’re unaware of its meaning/significance. and since no one can be reasonably expected to fulfil a contract that they don’t know enough about to enter into in the first place, the whole premise is basically invalid. arranged marriage stories offer so many more options because it’s a circumstance from which the characters can’t be extricated (or at least not easily). it’s the legally binding equivalent of ‘isolated together’, except that instead of a location it’s a social institution.
→ Sci-fi AU or magic au:
see, i don't know why you can't have both. you can have magic in sci-fi. and SPAAAAAAACE. i love all my space fandoms and i want all my fandoms in space.
→ Neighbours or roommates:
i... don't care? in fact, i don't think i've ever actually read a fic in which either of these circumstances occurred.
→ Body swap or gender-bend:
i really don't like body swap so i have to go with gender-bend, though honestly i'm usually too much of a canon purist to like gender bending either. i can only think of two exceptions, both P&P.
→ Angst or crack:
seconding @sarking's answer: "I’m generally only into crack if it’s taken seriously." ditto. and i enjoy angst as long as it's not the unrelenting sort. i need at least a hint of light on the horizon.
→ Apocalyptic or mundane:
augh, i love apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic stories so much, but i have to go with mundane because, again, there's a lot more scope.
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The Art of Love: Chapter 4
Fandom: She Ra (2018)
Ship: Glimadora
Summary: As Adora and Glimmer spend more time together, Glimmer realizes her feelings surrounding Adora are far more complicated than she originally thought. In fact, she has a lot more feelings than she thought.
Warnings (for this chapter): Mild Language, Food Mention, Description of mild emotional distress (please tell me if anything needs to be added)
Genre: High School AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff
A/N: Ooo boy do I smell plot development? Hell yeah I do! All notes especially reblogs and comments are so so appreciated. Thank you so much for reading; I hope you enjoy! I love you all 🖤✨
Ao3 The Art of Love Masterpost Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info
By the time the GrubHub guy had arrived around 30 minutes later, Adora had gained 2 more clay smears and made 7 more proton models. Her hair had been transferred into a messy bun that made her look like some sort of Instagram model. It had of course made Glimmer scoff to see her pulling the ultimate “white girl” move. It wasn’t helped by the fact that she managed the causal, scruffy artist much better than Glimmer ever did, even though that’s exactly the look she attempted on the daily.
The door bell rang, making Glimmer flinch once again, her hand jerking along with the paint she was holding. She let out a stream of profanity at the smudge she had made.
Adora looked up with gentle concern in her eyes that tempted Glimmer to throw the paint brush at her face, “Is everything all right?”
Glimmer stood up grumbling, “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get the food- back in a minute.”
She could feel Adora’s gaze following her as she walked out of the room and it made her face burn red; what was she looking, was there something on her back? Why couldn’t she just leave her alone? Glimmer couldn’t wait for this project to be over but it seemed determine to drag her through hell before it could be complete.
Glimmer used her signature jerk to open the door, grabbed the food and shoved some crumbled cash into the deliverer’s hands after a few quick words and a grimaced smile.
When Glimmer walked back to her room she wondered if Adora looked any different when she was alone, if no one was around to witness her mask of sweetness.
Glimmer silently creaked the door open and peaked in, a part of her expecting to see Adora having transformed into some kind of green alien. Instead, Adora was sitting just as she had been minutes before when Glimmer had been in the room- hunched over the clay in her hands, her hair an annoyingly cute mess piled on the top of her head, swaying gently from side to side in time with the song she was singing. Oh.That was different.
Adora was full on singing now, Hozier lyrics streaming out of her mouth in strong, sweet veins of sound that rippled through the air. It was disgusting how perfect her voice was- just another thing that she was better at than Glimmer- but it was somehow hypnotizing despite Glimmer’s revulsion. It was like watching a siren: surrounded by ship wrecks, seeing the flesh rot off her body but still being drawn forward. It was like a string had been tied around Glimmer’s heart, pulling her forward towards those sweet words that hung in the air like a toxic gas, wishing those words were directed at her.
“When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I'll crawl home to her”
It was like- oh no. Glimmer knew exactly what this was starting to feel like.
Adora turned her head to notice Glimmer who shook her head, hoping she could dislodge the thought. She walked in as if she hadn’t been standing in the doorway for a minute and a half and sat down, thrusting a steaming bucket kung pow chicken at Adora.
Adora took the box with a grateful smile and unflapped the lid, taking a deep breath through her nose of the warm scent radiating off of the contents.
She looked ready to dig in with her bare hands before giving Glimmer an awkward glance, “Uhh do you have any forks?”
Glimmer looked up from where she was shoving Chow Mein in her mouth with the chopsticks she had found in the bag. She reached in and found another pair, holding them in front of her, “Got ‘opsticks.”
The blond gave what could be described as a wince, “Oh, I’m not very good at those, are you sure it didn’t come with any forks?”
It took only a minute of scrounging around in the white and red bag for Glimmer to find nothing more than a handful of fortune cookies. She held them up, “I mean, you could use these and scoop it up.”
Adora stared at Glimmer’s deadpan face and managed to hold one herself before collapsing into laughter.
She threw hear head back, her hand splayed across her chest and tears leaking out of the edges of her eyes.
Glimmer didn’t think it was that funny but she could feel a smirk growing on her own lips, “Are you ok?”
Adora took a moment to gasp for breath, “I’m sorry, I’m- I’m just imagining trying to scoop it up and, and like the cookie just crumbles into it.”
Glimmer couldn’t help but giggle at the mental image as Adora dissolved into a shaking mess once more, even snorting a few times.
She took another look at Adora, crumbled over herself and laugh so hard her face was red enough to match the writing on the To-Go bag. Maybe it was how tired and stressed and hungry she was but but something cracked in her and she collapsed forward cackling.
Adora bowed her head up long enough for her panting breath to stabilize, “Or like, you’re picking up some noodles-“
“-and they just slide right off!” Glimmer finished the sentence as they both fell to the floor, grasping at their sides.
After a moment Glimmer took a a sharp inhale through her nose and straightened up; Adora wasn’t a friend so she might as well stop pretending like this wasn’t all some temporary show being put on. Glimmer threw a wrapped pair of chopsticks at Adora who was still doubled up on the floor, “Come on, dork, we have a lot of work to do.”
Adora followed suit, sitting up and peeling the paper from the utensils, “All right, all right, pass my food back over then.”
Glimmer did so and watched in amusement for a few moments as the other girl creased her eyebrows at the chopsticks.
“Aren’t they supposed to be separate?”
“You have to snap them apart,” Glimmer smirked, but it was almost kindly and she didn’t like that. She began internally scolding her face and reminding it that that she didn’t like Adora, that she was a snake and just saw Glimmer as a tool.
Her face got the message and fell silently, refusing to look at Adora as she continued to struggle with comical cuteness. It was obvious she was trying to play the “helpless and adorable” role.
Quietness filled the room and it should have been comforting but it just made Glimmer aware of how awkward the situation was- they were acting like friends, but they weren’t, but maybe Adora thought they were?
Despite the queasiness building up inside of Glimmer, she continued to shove food into her mouth, using it as a distraction. Besides, Adora couldn’t expect her talk of her mouth was full of Chow Mein. Glimmer huffed into her food, looking into the greasy noodles as if asking them What?! What do you want me to do?
Once again her body acted without her permission, glancing up at Adora who had given up on using the chopsticks correctly and was instead simply stabbing the pieces of chicken and vegetables within her container.
Glimmer let out a reactionary snort that she immediately wished she could take back when Adora matched her gaze and gave a sheepish smile. Glimmer broke off the eye contact and stared back down at her noodles who offered no consultation. Maybe I should at least say something- but maybe it’s been too long to say anything now. I wish these noodles would stop looking at me that way. Wow. I really am going crazy.
She stabbed a chunk of carrot out of frustration. That’ll show them damn noodles.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to use them that way,” she could hear the grin on Adora’s lips. What an aggravating brat; some day Glimmer was gonna wipe that smirk off her lips.
For now, Glimmer just groaned and threw her head before reaching out to correct Adora’s hands with enthusiasm that surprised both of them.
Her hands were so different from Adora’s- smaller and chubbier and tanner and splattered with blues and purples and pinks. Even with the clay, Adora’s looked like a doll’s; pale and slender and some how delicate as they rested in Glimmer’s hold even though they only sat there for a moment.
Adora had the utensils held upright in a clenched fist and Glimmer could see her own hands shaking as she unwrapped Adora’s grip, taking the chopsticks from her. This was all too much for her, all too friendly.
“Ok so, basically,” she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as inconspicuously as she could. She handed one of the chopsticks back and placed the other one on a napkin in front of Adora. Glimmer held up one of her’s to demonstrate, “You know how to hold a pencil right? Basically just do that with one of them and slip the other one next to it so you can use them kinda like scissors.”
Adora completed the first step with no problem, looking at Glimmer once or twice- maybe for reference or approval; who knew? Glimmer certainly didn’t. It was the second step where Adora utterly failed, both chopsticks falling to the ground followed by a small “oops” from the girl.
She picked them up again and, again, dropped them both.
Glimmer scowled before making up her mind and reaching out towards Adora once again, offering one of the fallen chopsticks, “Here like a pencil; you’ve got this part down.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a nerd,” Adora was smirking and Glimmer let herself mirror the expression; at least it proved that Adora had some idea of self deprecating humor.
One of Glimmer’s hands was cradling Adora’s and even though her slender fingers were longer than Glimmer’s, her hand seemed small in hers, not fragile, just graceful. She placed the second chopstick between Adora’s middle and index finger, Glimmer still supporting the hand in front of her for a moment too long.
Glimmer drew back as if she had just took a dish out of the oven but hadn’t realized how hot it was until her palms were burned red with splotches. She turned away from Adora who gave a childish giggle at the chopsticks resting in her fingers. While Adora seemed perfectly content to click the utensils together, Glimmer felt like the Chow Mein she had eaten so desperately only minutes before had now transformed into eels and were writhing within her body.
And Adora was right there- everything Glimmer had ever resented, everything Glimmer had ever wanted to be. But Adora... was giggling and clicking away into her takeout box with the wonder of an infant; how could this be the girl everyone loved so much? That’s not the type of person that makes it to the top.
Worst of all, it scared Glimmer. If for one random moment she assumed this is actually who Adora is and that she’s not just faking it, assuming that all the purity she shows and smiles she flashes at school are real, that means she became popular simply for who she was. It meant that Glimmer hadn’t made it there not because she was a genuine person, but because people simply didn’t like her.
Glimmer squeezed her eyes shut; the colours of the room she usually loved were far too loud, screaming into her mind and Adora’s red shirt loudest of all. She could feel the sweat on her palms as she clenched her fists.
“Are you ok?” Adora’s voice was much closer than it was supposed to be. Oh boy here comes my favorite: sickly sweet fake sympathy!
When Glimmer turned her head, Adora was crouched at Glimmer’s side, looking at her with concern playing across the glass of those big blue eyes. Her hand was reaching out hesitantly, only a breath’s width from touching Glimmer’s arm. She managed choke the suffocating sensation out of her throat long enough to growl in Adora’s direction.
“I’m absolutely peachy,” In all honesty, Glimmer’s head was screaming as if it were filled with sirens.
She shot up, not caring that her body knocked Adora’s still out-stretched hand as she did so, “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Despite stalking out of the room with as much purpose as she could muster, she didn’t go far. Glimmer let the tension fall from her body as she slumped against the wooden door, like a puppet whose master had let go of the strings.
Glimmer had planned on catching her breath, centering herself, whatever you want to call “getting back to normal”, and then deciding where to go with the situation from there- which would have been a fine plan if Adora hadn’t decided to snoop on Glimmer, peaking her head around the corner of the door.
Unfortunately, this was the same door Glimmer had been currently slumped against and when the door was removed, Adora had unwittingly placed herself in its position. Both girls went flying backwards, squawking in surprise as Adora failed to be as sturdy as the door.
“What are you doing?!” Glimmer could feel the tears prickling at the sides of her eyes.
Adora opened her mouth like she didn’t know how to respond or wasn’t expecting Glimmer’s anger or maybe both. The closest thing she got to a response was a deep blush spreading across Adora’s face as her eyes made a pattern of glancing at what little space was between their bodies and searching for... something in Glimmer’s face.
It was at this point that Glimmer realized how tangled up they were; she had already shifted to face Adora without thinking but that meant the majority of her weight was being held by Adora’s torso as it rose and fell against Glimmer’s stomach with Adora’s heavy breathing. The rest of Glimmer’s weight was being supported by her own arm which was placed only an inch or so left of Adora’s side and below Adora’s upper arm.
Glimmer’s attention was drawn back to Adora’s face as the girl below her tried to stutter out an explanation, “Look I, I don’t know- I felt like. Look, I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry about a lot of things.”
Glimmer managed to stand up with minimal contact or further tangling. She snorted, “Aren’t we all?”
“No, I mean,” Adora was still on the ground but she had sat up now, her legs casually stretched out in a V with Glimmer standing between them, “I think I upset you and I’m sorry for that. And whenever I try to check on you or try to make things better, it just gets worse and worse,” She looked up at Glimmer with those big blue eyes that were far shinier than usual. Her voice was much weaker when she spoke, hardly understandable, “I seem to do that a lot. And I’m sorry.”
Glimmer sighed through her nose, shaking her head as she extended her hand down to Adora, “Come on, get off the ground. You know, I can never know if you actually mean anything you say.”
Adora excepted the hand and began to haul herself up when she suddenly froze, her eyebrows creased together, “What?”
Glimmer snorted, “Well don’t just sit here with you ass half way in the air.”
“Why wouldn’t I mean what I say?” Adora stood all the way up but the lines of confusion remained deeply etched on her face.
A shrug came from Glimmer as if she hadn’t spent the past few days wrestling and juggling with this concept almost religiously, “I just assumed that to be popular you had to be fake and backstabbing and play different roles to get people to like you.”
“You really thought that about me? No wondered you didn’t like or trust me,” Adora’s face was clouded over by hurt and sadness but, after a moment, shifted to a small and timid smile that was present nonetheless, “What made you change your mind?”
Glimmer gave a smirk, “First of all, who said anything about liking you? And secondly... I realized that you were so much of an idiot nobody could play that role for any length of time and it therefore had to be genuine.”
Adora nodded seriously for a moment before throwing her head back laughing, “That’s valid.”
They shared a small smile, there in the doorway to Glimmer’s room, and for once Glimmer let herself believe it was real.
But then the air seemed to grow very stale between them as Adora began to bounce nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other and the insect-like sensation of uncertainty crawled up Glimmer’s spine.
She clapped her hands in front of her with all coolness of a middle aged dad who said stuff like Let’s go, Team! but without any of the misplaced confidence, “Um do you think we should get back to work?”
Adora seemed to be relieved by that idea and Glimmer understood that- the want to return to familiarity after they had just ventured where they had never been before only to scurry away after only sticking their toes in. But that was enough; that was all Glimmer needed for a lifetime, thank you very much.
“Yeah I still have roughly 50 protons to go, right?” Adora’s joke brought Glimmer from whatever trench she had settled into in her mind.
“Oh hmm yeah,” she hummed in response. Nothing like a noncommittal answer to show you’re really present in a conversation.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, both working diligently at their respective “stations,” which now seemed oddly far away compared to how close they had been tangled up on the floor; feeling the lack of the warmth from Adora’s body that had become far too familiar, far too quickly and then been stolen away with similar speed. Glimmer didn’t know what to say or do. How could she? Only minutes ago the thought of the girl made her nauseous and now they were... friends? Maybe. Probably not. Glimmer had no evidence that even if Adora was being truthful, this whole relationship that was struggling to grow like a plant deprived of sun wouldn’t completely wither away as soon the project was over. It wasn’t like Adora was lacking friends the way Glimmer was; she had lots of them, she had Cat. God, Cat.There was no way she was going to let her best friend hang out with somehow with as “uncool” as Glimmer.
“Hey can I ask something that might be a little personal?” Adora’s voice breaking the silence forced Glimmer to dig herself out of her thoughts once more.
“What?” The question registered before Adora had the chance to repeat herself, “I guess so...”
Adora didnt look up from the clay in her hands as she spoke and Glimmer wondered if it was easier to look at than her face or Adora was just trying to be a good student and get the work done, “What’s your mom’s job? She seems to work really long shifts. I understand if you don’t want to answer or something though!”
“Oh, no it’s cool. She’s an ER nurse. I’m actually kinda proud.”
Adora nodded, “Yeah that’s really cool.”
The silence settled in again but this time it felt more natural, comfortable. Like a cold room that had been empty all night but started to warm up as people filled it.
“Do you miss her? Like, do you get to see her a lot with those long hours?”
Glimmer just shrugged; they weren’t going there, not yet and if this went down the way Glimmer was predicting, probably never.
“Ok my turn,” Glimmer decided to speak after a few moments of quiet concentration, “Why do you care so much about getting an A on this project? You can afford to even get a D on it and still pass the class with an A, so why does it matter so much?”
All of the usual light seemed to flicker out out of Adora’s face and her hands stopped their work and started aimlessly fiddling with the clay instead.
Glimmer immediately wished she could take back the question, “You, uh, you don’t need to answer either.”
“I just like getting good grades,” Adora shrugged and resumed her work but Glimmer was too familiar the tension in her face and the stiffness of her fingers to mistake the casualness for anything more than an armor.
She shook her head, the obnoxiously curious and somewhat disrespectful portion of her brain breaking past all safeguards to push the topic, “Nah it’s more than that.”
Glimmer put down the clay and paint brush in front of her and shifted so she was facing Adora, “Come on tell me, spill the tea.”
Adora managed a smile, but it was still weak, “Uh, I was adopted? And I’ve always felt like I need to prove they chose the right kid? I’m sorry, I’m not sure if that makes sense.”
Regret was filling Glimmer’s body as tears glistened in Adora’s. Shit shit shit. Why did she also have to ask about the worst things? This was why no one liked her, “Oh god, I’m really sorry I asked and then pushed it and I should have just let it go. Oh shit I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok, Glimmer.”
“Not it’s not! I shouldn’t have kept pushing it when you obviously didn’t want to talk about it!” Glimmer was rushing her words out, hoping they could erase what she had said before but knowing they couldn’t.
Adora let out a watery laugh, “It’s ok, it’s not you’re fault that I have perfectionist ideals that I can never achieve because of abandonment issues and separation anxiety.”
Glimmer’s eyes widened; what the hell was she supposed to say to that?? She felt like she should at least try to respond, “Oh, uh-“
“I’m joking, Glimmer!” Adora’s face wet enough for her loose hair to plaster itself to her cheeks but she was grinning.
“Hug?” Glimmer held her arms out in front of her. They were stiff and shaking slightly; this was not comfortable territory to Glimmer but neither was any of this project and, besides, she felt like she owed Adora for bringing up a topic that was obviously a sore spot.
Adora raised an eyebrow, “Really?”
Glimmer nodded, “Yeah bring it in, dork. That’s why I’ve got my arms hanging out in front of me like an idiot.”
Adora beamed a full on smile and moved so she could shuffle forward on her knees to close the foot of empty space between them. She wrapped her arms around Glimmer’s neck, allowing Glimmer to wrap her arms around her torso. Adora smelled nice as she buried her face into Glimmer’s shoulder. It reminded Glimmer of a forest- earthy from the clay and sweet from some sort of shampoo or perfume. The scent was making her lightheaded. Or maybe it was the blood rushing to her head, her heart pounding like a scared rabbit trapped in her rib cage, so quickly she was worried Adora could feel it as she pressed herself into Glimmer.
Time seemed to slow down, were they there for a second, a few minutes, the whole night? Glimmer couldn’t tell. When Adora finally gave Glimmer a last squeeze and drew away, Glimmer was surprised she didn’t fall forward. She was certainly dizzy enough to faint.
Adora gave a small smile and Glimmer returned it; trying to contain her own disbelief at how much had changed in just the past 2 hours. However this stupid project turned out, getting to the finish line was certainly a roller coaster.
#glimadora#glimadora week#glimmadora#glimadora fanfic#glimadora au#spop glimadora#she ra glimadora#glimmadora week#glimmadora fic#glimmadora fanfic#glimadora fic#she ra#she ra glimmadora#spop#spop glimmadora#glimadora fluff#she ra fanfic#she ra high school au#spop high school au#glimmer x adora#adora x glimmer#spop fanfic#spop fanfiction#The Art of Love#starlight writes
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Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group. (sharing here Admin approved)
https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/
Hello CRMediaGal and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.
Many of our members will know your Unquestionable Love series.
We’re grateful you can spend some time with us today.
Okay, so let's jump into it!
What’s the story behind your pen name?
CR is an abbreviation for “cracked rendition” and that comes from the excerpt from a poem I’ve loved since I was young. Years ago, to help put myself through art college, I did web design on the side and called my little company Cracked Rendition Designs. When I created my pen name, I combined all of these elements together to make CRMediaGal (for some illogical reason I thought it was a solid name at the time lol) and, to this day, I still think about changing my pen name altogether. I figure it’s too late for that now, though.
Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?
Luna Lovegood. I wish I’d had her self-assurance and confidence in who she is at that age but, that aside, I identify with how she’s a bit of a loner, an oddball, and tends to be left out (or does until she finds her Hogwarts friends). I’ve really struggled with being an outsider most of my life, so it’s comforting to see that representation in literature but through a young woman who possesses the self-confidence people like myself often lack.
Do you have a favourite genre to read?
I tend to love period dramas, so a lot of the classic novels are my favourites (i.e. Austen, Henry James, etceteras).
Do you have a favourite “classic” novel?
The Portrait of a Lady is one of my favourite novels. I reread it every couple of years.
At what age did you start writing?
I’ve been writing since I was very little, so probably seven, eight, nine-ish? I used to be much more of an artist/sketcher than a writer, so I’d make up stories and write and sketch and staple them together all day long lol.
How did you get into writing fanfiction?
After watching Deathly Hallows: Part 2 at the cinema in 2011. Severus Snape’s death hit me hard all over again (I hadn’t read the last book in a few years), and I decided that I desperately needed to change that for myself lol. Unquestionable Love is the first fanfic (SSHG) I ever wrote and it’s become an ongoing series, so I’m grateful to have gotten the “spark” to write fanfic from somewhere around that time. I decided in 2011 to try my hand at “fleshing out” my little Snape family that had been mucking about in my head for much longer than that.
What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?
I’m a total sucker for the brooding, self-loathing male who thinks himself unworthy of love and redemption and the sunshine, kick-arse lady, aka Centre of His World, who loves him back to life. #GimmeMorePleaseandThankYou
What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?
I’ve written fics for Star Wars (ReyBen/Reylo is another one of my favourite ships outside of SSHG), The Hobbit (Thranduil/Tauriel), and Les Miserables (Enjonine).
If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?
Severus Snape’s death (he’s NOT dead! #nope #denial4ever).
My favourite piece of fanon is probably Severus being Draco’s godfather. Regardless of where it originated from, I’m all for it.
Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet?
I used to need complete solitude and quiet to write, but nowadays I can write with some instrumental music playing in the background. It depends on where my headspace is at.
What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?
I don’t read much fanfic anymore, as it’s hard enough for me to find time for my own writing…but off the top of my head, I’d probably have to go with a “classic” - The Tattered Man (SSHG) by Aurette. It’s gutting and heart-wrenching and doesn’t have a happy ending, but it’s a hauntingly beautiful piece that stays with you.
Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?
I’m somewhere in the middle. I tend to plot out certain points I want to hit from chapter to chapter (if it’s a multi-chapter fic and heavy on plot, for instance), but writing is an organic process and I enjoy allowing my muse to surprise me as well.
What is your writing genre of choice?
A good mixture of Angst and Fluff (and nearly always with a HEA!)
Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?
I’m proud of all my stories for different reasons, mainly technical milestones I was able to achieve with the writing or the emotional attachments I had to them at the time that I wrote them.
If I had to choose one (or two because I gotta cheat here haha!), I’d go with either Unto Their Own (SSHG) because the subject matter was so dark and took me to places mentally that were very tough for me to navigate (the fact that I finished that fic is an achievement for me because it could have very well been abandoned at various points in the story); or Unquestionable Love (SSHG), both the original and the series as a whole, because that story has my heart entirely invested in it. That precious family means everything to me and the story, from beginning to present, is my headcanon for the SSHG pairing. I really can’t see them any other way, though I’ve written other stories where their lives turn out quite differently.
Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?
Sticking with Unquestionable Love here, the original story came together mostly as expected, though there were a couple darker turns the fic was supposed to take that I didn’t have the heart--or the stamina, I suppose--to end up developing.
One of my dear OCs/one of the daughters was supposed to die at one point in the story and I realised that doing so would have ultimately changed Severus’s fate, as well as the entire course of the storyline. (There is just no way that UL!Severus would survive the death of one of his children, so I guess I’m no JK Rowling or any other esteemed writer who can just ruthlessly kill off their characters haha!) I’ve learned through writing this series that I can tackle subject matters that are very emotionally tough for me and that’s a good feeling.
I’ve also learned that I have something to say, even if it’s not much heard or well-liked, and that that still makes my storytelling worthy of being out there in the fandomverse; or, at least, I try to remind myself that it’s okay to exist.
How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?
It’s intensely personal in some respects and those aspects are difficult for me to discuss. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to talk about them in depth, but I will say a couple scenes in the latter half of Unquestionable Love were incredibly trying to write due to personal experience. I pushed through those moments, though, and I think that, because of that therapeutic exercise, I’m able to tackle other tough subjects in my stories more easily.
What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?
I admire various writers, mainly for the love of the language that’s reflected in their writing styles. Anne Rice immediately comes to mind. If I had an ounce of her talent, I’d write with so much confidence lol. I don’t think writers like her necessarily affect my writing style, but they’re certainly people I aspire to write more like.
Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?
Only more recently. I haven’t really allowed any of them to read my work, as so much of it is deeply personal, but just being upfront with my closest friends and family has been a nice development.
How true for you is the notion of “writing for yourself”?
I think this is something, as a fic writer, that’s essential. However, I’m also of the mindset that fandom is about community, and fanfic writers want to engage with their audiences. We want to feel less alone in these wacky and often times complicated scenarios we put our characters through, and we want people to respond to them...hopefully, with a positive reaction.
That’s what it’s all about--interaction--and it can be rather heartbreaking, as a writer, when you don’t receive engagement because maybe your headcanons or takes on characters aren’t popular or are considered outside of the ‘norm’.
For me, I find it too crippling anymore to continue sharing my stories with the fandoms I love when they’re met with silence or hate. There’s nothing more soul crushing than just being dismissed or disliked or not accepted...and that’s why I’ve chosen to post my stories privately (for now, at least).
How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?
It’s pretty essential to me to be able to engage with readers. I absolutely love it and I wish it happened more often haha. I used to run polls and interact with readers on my fanfiction.net and AO3 accounts (both now inactive) and through my still active Tumblr account (http://crmediagal.tumblr.com/ ). I now have my own website - www.crmediagal.com - where I can fully control the flames and negativity.
It may be temporary but, so far, it’s working out pretty well. It’s made my readership a lot smaller but, at least, I know the people who are there genuinely want to read more of my work and won’t leave me hate comments. That’s so comforting and encouraging.
What would you most like your readers to take away with them when they've finished your stories?
A powerful message of some kind...remembrance...perhaps, suggest one or two of them to other readers and shippers out there.
That’s the only way our stories survive, really.
What is the best advice you’ve received about writing?
That you need to protect your “voice”, no matter how unpopular it may be, and that there is no one else who writes like you and that you should take pride in that.
I try to remind myself of these important pointers when I’m feeling particularly down about my storytelling abilities.
What do you do when you hit writer’s block?
Watch my favourite films or television shows to help re-spark my creativity. I come back to the writing when it ‘speaks’ to me. I no longer press myself to push out writing because, more often than not, the result is going to get tossed and reworked anyhow.
Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?
Yes, certain experiences and people I’ve encountered in my life have definitely wound up in some of my stories.
Many of my OCs in different stories are examples of that.
Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?
I’m working on a new SSHG story that’s based off of a fun prompt from a dear, long-time reader.
It will start posting at my website - www.crmediagal.com - in the coming weeks/months, so if anyone would like access to it, you can contact me there.
Here’s a short excerpt:
Cradling his head in his hand, Severus stomped to his front door and opened it a crack, jostling the handle loud enough that it caught three people’s attention, the woman firstly before the others.
“What’s the bloody idea?” he snarled, shouting above them.
Each individual—two wizards and one witch—went mute and turned to stare from the neighbouring sidewalk.
“I’ll have you know that this is a quiet street! And I was sleeping!” When the guests next door to him, who were just towing the property line and about to get themselves knocked out, offered no response, he prodded, grinding his teeth together,
“Are you daft, you fools? Do you not comprehend? HEY!”
The two gentlemen, who appeared to be fresh out of Hogwarts—or maybe they hadn’t gotten that far in their magical studies, judging by the stupidity on their expressions—startled and nodded in unison.
“Yes, sir!”
“Oh, my...” the witch, in turn, murmured, seemingly more to herself than anyone else.
Severus identified her vacant, open-mouthed expression at once: she recognised him. As of yet, he had little recollection as to who she might be and didn’t give a damn. He kicked his door open the rest of the way with his boot, jostling the three near trespassers backward a few more paces, and stalked down his steps and onto his sidewalk.
That was when he finally understood the reason behind all of the commotion: one of the branches to the old oak tree that shielded his stoop, and had been there since the earliest days he could recall of his childhood, had crashed onto the pavement, cracking the sidewalk in half.
A part of his iron fence, too, had crumbled under the weight of the broken branch, and there was an assortment of boxes, some severely banged up, scattered across his property.
“What the...? That’s my tree you idiots hit! And my bleedin’ fence...!”
“I - I’m sorry, sir,” stammered the witch with wildly curly hair and worrisome brown eyes, hastily stepping forward to intervene.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how this happened—”Severus turned his glare on her.
“And who are you?” The seemingly thirty-something woman blushed to her roots, which he couldn’t account for, until she spoke in a faint, insecure whisper,
“Um, Hermione, sir... Hermione Weasley. Oh, gosh, I mean, I - I was Hermione Weasley until...” She cleared her throat and attempted to reintroduce herself, flushing in such a manner that it flaunted dainty-looking freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose. Had she always had those? Severus couldn’t remember.
“Oh, bother! It’s Hermione Granger, Professor. Surely, you...you remember me?”Severus went as rigid as a column.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake...” he blurted aloud before he could stop himself. Hermione blinked, taken aback.
“I’m sorry?”Severus’s shock morphed into a tight-fitting sneer.
“I thought I was done with the lot of you.”
Any words of encouragement to other writers?
Try not to get too discouraged by lack of reviews or not making the recommendations lists. Keep persevering and know that someone out there, even if it’s just one reader, will love what you have to share with the world.
Thanks for spending some time with us today CRMediaGal, we’ve enjoyed getting to know you.
#fanfiction#fanfic#pro snape#snamione#sevmione#snanger#hermione#hermione granger#snape#severus snape#snape community#writing
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Earth-199999
I was going to write a big thing about how to keep writing canon compliant fanfics while still keeping your favs after the whole Endgame thing went down, but then something happened and this whole concept bashed me in the head and so I’m going to ramble for a bit in a half-conscious state about the multiverse, the MCU, the designation “Earth-199999″ and just a bunch of thoughts. I hope it’s coherent.
I don’t know if this blew up as much on Tumblr as it did on Twitter, but ever since the Far From Home trailer dropped the “This is Earth-616″ line there’s been a bit of a fuss being kicked up (from myself as well, because listen - you can’t just throw around the designation “616″ and expect people not to react either positively or negatively in one way or another - the easter egg for it in Thor: The Dark World feels to me like where they should have left it but hey, that’s my opinion and isn’t as relevant to this post.) about the knowledge we as fans have been given for years that the MCU is Earth-199999. But what does any of it mean, and why should we care?
First let’s establish some things about the Marvel multiverse and why these numerical designations matter:
The Marvel multiverse has been around in comics for a long while - not forever, but long enough at this point that comics readers are likely to react quickly and easily to “Earth-616″. For those who are unaware, Earth-616 is the primary Marvel comics universe - this is the universe most people are referring to when they talk about comics and share comic panels (aside from that ever present female!Tony kissing Steve Rogers panel, or the panels lately of Sorcerer Supreme Doctor Anthony Stark who currently only has a TRN - a temporary reality number) and as such its history is fairly well developed, with a lot of classic and modern stories falling into it.
For comics fans when the multiverse comes up there are a couple of things that come to mind but most recently is likely the Time Runs Out / Incursion storyline for a lot of people. During this event, at the most basic level, a bunch of realities start to crash into each other and it’s a lot of mayhem. This invited short displays into some of the other realities and even eventually led to a lot of people meeting their other selves. It’s complicated to simplify, so I’m not totally sure why I’m trying, but I wanted to give a little context.
As for other realities? Well there are a few. Marvel Zombies is Earth-2149 in which the Avengers (and the world) become zombies during an early outbreak. Earth-311 is the 1602 universe in which we can see a lot of very time-period-y characters and set pieces. Earth-1610 is home to the Ultimates Universe, which is just its own big old bag of beans. But for the purposes of this post the only other one that actively matters is Earth-199999 - more well known as the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
What does Mysterio’s indication that their designation is Earth-616 mean?
Ignoring the “Earth-616″ specific designation, the more overarching questions seem to waver between “Are we going to see the multiverse for real, or is Mysterio lying his ass off?” and “Why have we been told it’s Earth-199999 for so long if that’s not the case?” and these are all fascinating questions to think about, and may give hope to those of us still struggling after the finale of Endgame - or at least give us fanfiction writers a lot of room to play!
First of all - we’ve already seen the multiverse for real. When the Ancient One “opened” Stephen’s mind in Doctor Strange we saw fragments of it everywhere and if you saw parallels between Stephen’s trippy dream sequence and things that happened in the Quantum Realm in Ant Man/Ant Man and the Wasp - that’s not an accident. You saw things you were supposed to see. Both of these are things that are meant to point and nudge towards early hints of the multiverse. Naturally Infinity War and Endgame both add further to this - Infinity War with Stephen’s snarky “Protecting your reality, douchebag” making it clear that Stephen deals with the multiverse already in some capacity, and the use of the Quantum Realm to slip through time (dimensions?), as well as the conversation Bruce Banner has with the Ancient One about branching timelines.
This doesn’t mean Mysterio isn’t lying his ass off in some capacity - but he’s definitely not bullshitting about the multiverse at least.
So then we’re left with “Why have we been told it’s Earth-199999 if it’s actually another designation?” And the answer I have to that is not a definitive (obviously) but speculation. I believe the Earth we’re used to and familiar with in the MCU really was Earth-199999 - but that the Earth things took place in from the moment they all returned from the Time Heist may not have been 199999 anymore, but a different Earth altogether.
What if the reality they jumped ‘back’ to was simply a reality divergence of their own? Based on what the Ancient One said about the stones themselves affecting the flow of time and whatnot. With the stones of another reality in play it’s highly likely that the reality was at the very least warped in some way - and for many of these stones they came from different realities.
With the way that fanfiction writers happen to write fics and how the multiverse works in Marvel in general, but specifically in the MCU if we take from what the Ancient One had to say a lot of fanfics become far more viable because who knows what tiny changes exist in this literal Alternate Universe?
I’m exhausted so I’m going to end this bit of speculation here, but who knows what this universe holds? Fanfic writers, I hope you’re all excited.
Keep your favs. Write what makes you happy. Write your angst, write your fluff, write your smut, just write whatever works because let’s face it - Marvel introducing the multiverse means we can all be correct.
#marvel#MCU#Meta#Earth-199999#Earth-616#marvel 616#Marvel 199999#Marvel Multiverse#Endgame#Endgame spoilers#Far From Home Trailer#Far From Home#Mysterio#MCU fanfiction#Fanfiction Things#Doctor Strange#Ant Man And The Wasp
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Lie to Me
Read it on AO3 here!https://ift.tt/2oXdfEx
by Castielslostwings
Castiel and Sam's plan to expel Michael from Dean's body backfires in a big way, leaving them with an unexpectedly human archangel and the horrifying possibility that Dean's soul is gone forever. Can they bring Dean home from wherever he's gone? What will become of a human Michael trapped in Dean's body? How will Castiel survive losing the love of his life, just when things were starting to fall together?
Words: 3420, Chapters: 3/12, Language: English
Fandoms: Supernatural
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Chuck Shurley, Michael (Supernatural), Mary Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jack Kline, Naomi (Supernatural), Indra
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Additional Tags: Angst, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, Angst with a Happy Ending, I promise, Michael!Dean, Sam and Cas being bros, Dean and Castiel are in love, Possessed Dean, The following tags include spoilers, fair warning, Human Castiel, Human Castiel in the Bunker, Chuck is God, Castiel in the shower, casturbation, Sad Sam Winchester, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Human Michael (Supernatural), Self-Esteem Issues, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Top Castiel, Bottom Dean, Castiel driving Baby, POV Castiel, mostly - Freeform, Temporary Character Death, no permanent MCD, borrowed elements from another series- Angel, Not a Crossover, Just some inspiration and a bit of dialogue, No prior knowledge of Angel needed, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Alternate Season 14, some very minor dubcon in one chapter, like i don't even want to tag it, nothing really happens, michael is manipulative, michael gets better, problems in heaven, Chuck Ex Machina, IDK what these tags even are sorry, Mary/Bobby/Jack are all offscreen, ultimately this is a fix-it fic, no really lol, canon compliant up to season 13 episode 23, coda to "let the good times roll"
Link: https://ift.tt/2oXdfEx
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