#it's my favorite fic i love it so much it makes me feel the feels
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can u please write a fic about James and the reader being bestfriends and becoming lovers pls?
thats my favorite trope ever ♡♡♡
COMMONALITY — J.POTTER
you and james were sometimes a little too close as friends, and it was beginning to make james question the platonicness of your relationship.
cw — james feeling guilty for having feelings, mild miscommunication, friends to lovers, happy ending
james potter x fem!reader || fluff || 3.2k || masterlist!!
a/n — i love james so much man
James had been… off lately.
You weren’t sure that anyone else would even be able to tell, he was still his outrageously confident self, outgoing and charming, playfully annoying, but there was something there that was different, and you weren’t sure if it was in a positive way.
He looked more tired than usual, more drained, the small glint in his eyes barely holding on under whatever nimbus cloud had managed to overtake the inside of his head.
“Hey,”You approach him gently, taking a seat beside him on one of the common room sofas with your legs curled up underneath you. “You okay?”
“Yeah I’m great, did you hear that we kicked Slytherin’s ass during our practice match this morning?” Deflection. You could practically feel it radiating off of him. Even his tone was laced with it, the usual excitement that would be present over something like that simply acting as a mask to cover whatever was underneath it.
“James,” You furrow your eyebrows ever so slightly and he can tell that he’s beat.
“I hate how well you know me sometimes…” And just like that any sense of trying to hide the sorrowful state he was in disappears, replaced with a genuine show of discontent as he leans his head over the back of the seat.
You sigh, leaving your hand on his knee to rub small circles against the skin exposed by has shorts. “What’s wrong Jamie? You’ve been off all week,”
“It’s nothing you can help with love don’t worry about it,”
“I’m going to worry about it,”
“I know,” James gives out a long exhale, dragging the palm of his hand underneath his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’m really fine, though,”
“James,” You tilt your head with a small pool of worry in your eyes. “Please tell me what’s going on,”
He always hated it when you looked at him like that.
“It’s truly nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about okay?” He pulls himself to sit up straight, mirroring your head tilt with his own. “I’ve gotta figure it out in my own time,”
You didn’t want to pry. If he wanted to tell you then he would. All you could really do was wait.
“Alright…”
That didn’t mean you were happy about it.
“Love…” James sighs softly. “Don’t look like that,”
“I’m just worried about you…”
“I know,” James leaves his hand on top of yours as a show of thanks for your concern over him.
He wants to tell you. And he should really. But how on earth do you bring up that you’ve managed to fall in love with your best friend, to said best friend?
‘Hey, by the way, I know we’re like best mates and all but every time you touch me I feel like I’m going to explode.’
“You should at least get some sleep, you look tired,”
Yeah, it’s kind of hard to sleep when you spend the whole night beating yourself up for being an absolute idiot.
“Yeah…”
You turn your hand until it’s palm up in his, curling your fingers around the back of his hand until they’re securely nestled together. “Maybe we should take a nap,”
He should say no. He’s not right to have you cuddled into his side with your head on his chest and your arms around his torso. It’s not fair on you for him to take advantage like that when you just see it as what’s essentially a sleepover between friends. Not when he’s thinking about you like he is.
“Yeah, I think I could use a nap right now…”
But when you look at him like that who is he to refuse you really?
—
James woke up with a groan, still groggy and covered in a thin film of sweat from the cocoon of heat that had developed underneath the quilt. He was supposed to sleep for an hour, maybe two if either of you were truly tired. But the sun had gone down and he could hear Peter’s snoring from across the room and Remus’ curtains were pulled and the sun definitely wasn’t coming up any time soon.
God knows he needed what he got though, he was starting to think he’d exhaust himself to the point of death.
As he shifted on the mattress, he was brought back to the both fortunate and unfortunate reality of the fact you we’re sleeping next to him, arm draped over his stomach with his arm underneath your head whist you slumbered away peacefully.
It took less than a few seconds for the tranquility of it to be ruined under the small voice in the back of his head that just had to ruin absolutely everything.
You were so pretty when you slept. Peaceful, unaware, like nothing could phase you under the blanket of rest you’d covered yourself with.
And it was making him feel so guilty. You were his friend, his best friend, and he was taking advantage of what you viewed to be a platonic relationship between two people because he just could not get his head right and stop thinking about you in a romantic fashion.
Was it really just platonic? He wasn’t sure anymore…
He stayed stationary for a few short moments, eyes gazing deftly over your sleep filled features and the feeling of your chest slowly rising and falling against his side until he was sure he couldn’t handle it anymore, and carefully slid his arm from underneath you so that he could move.
And then you shift, and he freezes.
Godric knows he didn’t need you waking up right now.
You don’t stir, thank his, but you do turn your body towards his in an unconscious effort to seek out the lost contact between the two of you.
James swears he almost melts at the sight.
“Just mates…” he whispers to himself, trying in vain to convince himself once more that the close relationship between the two of you was nothing more than pure platonic friendship.
There’s a sharp pang of guilt that pierces his heart as he carefully pries himself from you and watches as you try and chase after the contact in your sleep, but he knows that it’s for the best.
James takes one last quick glance at your sleeping figure before starting to quietly head towards the door, hoping and praying that you don’t wake up as he sneaks out of the dorm room.
You don’t for a good few minutes, but as the patch of heat that he’d left behind on the mattress turns cold, you find yourself blinking awake in the search of his absent warmth.
You don’t think much of his disappearance at first, he’d often get up to go to the bathroom or sneak off to the kitchens if he was hungry, but after ten—then fifteen—minutes of waiting, it’s more than clear that James didn’t have any intention of returning, so you quietly pad out of the boys’ dorm room to go in search of him.
It wasn’t very hard.
“James..?” You rub the corner of your eye with your knuckle as you descend the stairs to the main floor of the common room, where James was sat stationary on one of the sofas with his back to you. “Are you alright?”
The worry from earlier in the day immediately invades your mind again, and your eyebrows furrow in concern as you approach him, sleep slipping away with every step you take.
“Yeah,” He muttered in response to your question, not making any move to face you. “I’m fine.”
You don’t believe him. “Why did you disappear..?” You take a seat next to him almost hesitantly.
The dip in the sofa from your added weight is enough incentive for James to finally move, and shifts to accommodate you beside him.
“I just.. needed to clear my head a bit, that’s all.” he shrugged, eyes almost absent as the continue to stare blankly towards the fireplace. “I didn’t want to wake you up either, so I just came to come down here for a bit.”
You let out a soft exhale at his intonation, reaching out to smooth a curl of hair from his eye with your fingers. “Are you really sure you’re okay?”
There’s a smile, almost incomprehensible smile that etches it’s way on to James’ face at the gentle touch of your fingers, almost like a reflex, and just like a reflex the second he notices he’s doing it, it disappears.
“I’m fine I promise,” James gives a small sigh, nodding his head softly. “Just a lot going on in my head at the moment,” He continues to keep his gaze focused away from you, and it does not help in making you believe him. “What about you? You still look tired,”
“Yeah…” You tilt your head sideways until your temple is resting against James’ shoulder. “I’m okay…”
James is almost envious of how easily you lay your head on his shoulder, like it’s really no big deal.
As close friends, it shouldn’t be.
But it made his heart skip a beat and his throat dry up all the same.
He rested his arm over your shoulder cautiously, like his skin would burn at the contact, pads of his fingertips carefully sliding into the hair at your temple as he leaned his head back against the sofa with closed eyes in a failed attempt at looking relaxed.
“Come back to sleep?”
James bit his tongue.
In a way, his body wanted him to, as the comfort of you and the warmth of the bed were things that he craved at the moment.
His mind, however, was telling him differently. He couldn’t risk it. Not after the thoughts that he had been having.
“I can’t,” he responded softly.
“…Why not?” You blink up at him slowly, lifting your hand to trace arbitrary lines over his forearm to try and soothe whatever was rampaging his mind.
His mind was all over the place right now, but he couldn't allow himself to fall back into bed with you. Not when he was like this.
“I just can't,” he murmured for the second time, looking away from you once more.
“I can leave you to sleep by yourself,” You hand moves down towards his, giving it a small squeeze as you massage circles into his palm. “If that’s why you can’t sleep,”
You didn’t want to assume that you were the reason for his discomfort, but you also didn’t want him to stick it out if that was the case for your sake.
James sighed, his thoughts telling him to just give in and agree, as his body still wanted and craved your close presence.
His mind, however, had decided otherwise.
“It's not that-” He began to say, before stopping himself to redirect his response. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course James,” You bring your head up from his shoulder to give him a nod. “ Anything,”
James hung his head with a sigh, breathing in deeply before committing to his question.
“Have you ever wondered what it would be like if the two of us were… more than just friends?”
“I’m—” You blink non-commitaly. “—not sure what you mean,”
James looked over at you, your furrowed brow causing confusion in him for a second.
Did you really not know what he’d meant?
Or were you just feigning ignorance?
“You know very well what I mean,” he said softly, his mind beginning to wonder if maybe you weren’t as clueless as you were portraying right now. “You’ve had those thoughts before, haven’t you? About us being more than just… mates?”
“I—” What to say truly evades you as you stammer for a response, and you can’t even formulate a coherent sentence as you blink blankly at him.
James felt his breath falter a little bit at your hesitation, making him second guess what he’d just said and regret it almost immediately.
Was his mind just making him think of things that weren’t real? You really didn’t have any sort of thoughts like that whatsoever?
None?
None at all?
James decided to take a gamble with his next statement, praying to whatever god was listening that it would pay off.
“It’s been something I’ve thought about a lot lately…” He muttered his confession, trying to gauge if you were thinking the same things as him, or if he really was just going mad.
“…really?” Your voice is barely a whisper as you respond, throat drying up to the point where you feel like you’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“Yeah,” he confirmed, his voice a little bit more confident than it had been initially. “And, maybe it started off as just a little ‘what if’, but.. I can’t seem to get the thoughts out of my head anymore…” he trailed off slightly, hoping you would catch on to what he was hinting at.
“James…”
You’re not entirely sure how you should respond to that.
And not even because it was something you didn’t want to hear.
You’d just managed to dig yourself into such a deep pit of denial that you’d never even considered James having feelings for you that were anything more than platonic.
“…I’m not crazy for thinking about us like that…” He whispered, his voice catching just slightly as he waited for your response. “…am I?”
Your eyes flicker over James’ features as you dig through the folds of your brain to form a coherent response. But nothing comes.
And the longer you stay silent the more the hope in James’ eyes disappears and the more to have the indescribable urge to kiss all of his worries away.
So you do.
Incredibly impulsively.
The skin of his cheeks is soft underneath your palms as you pull your faces together, the curls covering his forehead brushing against you and the soft pressure of his lips against yours almost indescribable.
James’ eyes widen before they close, and you can almost physically feel all of the anxiety drain from him as he anchors his hands at your sides to return your efforts.
And for a moment it felt like everything was right with the world. Just how it should be.
“I think I might be in love with you…” You mutter the words against James’ lips only once you part for air, hands trembling ever so slightly against his cheeks as you rest your forehead against his in a mix of adrenaline and nervousness.
James swears his heart physically flips in his chest.
He takes a moment to respond, his head spinning from the kiss between you two.
“Good… because I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long already…” he mumbled, brushing his thumb over your cheek.
The breathlessness of his voice urges a soft laugh from the back of your throat, and James can’t help but smile at the sound, like it’s his favourite thing to hear in the world.
James leans in close to you like you’re the most delicate thing in the world, gently pressing his lips to your forehead and just relishing in the fact that you’d both finally just admitted your true feelings. “So, does this mean we're not just mates anymore?” he teased, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.
“I don’t think we’ve been ‘just mates’ for a while James—” You lean your head into the crook of James’ neck with your arms over his shoulders in a hug, hiding yourself in the wake of your mild embarrassment.
James smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you against him. “I’m so in love with you…” he whispered, the warmth that had been absent from his heart finally returning.
His heart felt lighter than it ever did before, and the warmth filled him from head to toe.
He leaned in close to you, holding you tightly yet gently in his arms. “I adore you, you know… I’m yours.” he admitted softly in your ear, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back.
“I’ve always been yours James…”
James couldn’t help but laugh softly at your reply, his heart swelling with love for you. “You’ve always been mine?” He teased, gently rubbing his nose against your cheek with a smile. “Even when we were ‘just mates’?”
You let out a short laugh at the way he nuzzles his face against yours, scrunching up slightly. “Maybe I was just being optimistic,”
“Optimistic that one day, I’d fall head over heels crazy in love with you?” he replied with a smirk on his face.
“It worked didn’t it?” You give another laugh as you move to cup James’ face in your hand, and he leans into your touch like it’s second nature.
“I suppose it did, didn’t it?” He took hold of one of your wrists, slowly guiding your hand over to his lips where he planted a soft kiss on your palm. "You’re so beautiful..."
It’s nothing you haven’t heard before from him, but with the added knowledge of his romantic intentions it feels so much more intimate, and it leaves you horribly flustered to the point where you’re sure he can tell.
And the look on his face tells you he definitely can.
He had always found you beautiful—from the way you styled your hair to how pretty you looked first thing on a sunday morning dragging yourself to breakfast.
But now that he knew you were his, and his alone, the thought of letting you know how gorgeous you were made his heart flutter.
He wanted to lavish the girl of his dreams with compliments and affection in every way he could.
“I think we should head back to bed. I’m feeling a little tired again,” James mumbled softly in your ear.
He wanted to take you back to bed and hold you in his arms whilst he slept. To Hold you without any of the guilt or second-guessing. To hold you properly, like he’d always wanted to.
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea...”
James slowly released his grasp on you, taking a moment to admire just how gorgeous you were in the pale moonlight of the common room.
He took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles as he stood up from the sofa. “Come on,” he whispered, gently pulling you up from your seat, “Let’s get some sleep love,”
#marauders#marauders fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#james potter x reader#james potter#james potter fluff#asks 🪶
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☢️ — uranium fever
summary: lucy tops you for the first time and she ends up liking it more than she thought she would.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, top!lucy, fem!reader, BIONIC strap on use :P, penetration, i dont know how to end fics im sorry
"you know,” you start, gripping onto lucy’s sides and smirking up at her. “you look really hot when you’re on top of me like this.”
“oh, yeah?” she puffs out her chest and bites her lip.
“mhm. it’s a shame you don’t know how to top.” you tease, pinching her side which she responds to with a low whine.
"stop it." she pouts, shoving your shoulder. she leans down and starts nibbling on your neck again, feeling pride swell up at your soft moans. "i sooo can top you. how about you let me try?" she starts running her nails along your stomach, her deep voice making you twitch with lust.
"be my guest." you grin, and she squeals before pushing off of you and rushing towards the closet, reaching for your favorite strap-on. the bionic one, where you can feel everything. "good choice."
it's lucy's favorite too. she loves to talk back to you about how deep and good you're fucking her, enjoying how she can feel you twitch inside of her at her teasing words. she's fantasized about using it on you countlessly, even going as far as wearing it while you're out at a vault shift and jerking off using one of your panties.
lucy shakes with excitement as she puts it on, making sure it's tight enough before jumping back on the bed and pulling you close to her by your legs.
"not wasting any time, huh? you're that eager to fuck me?"
"you don't know how long i've dreamed about this." she confesses, leaning her body over yours while humping her cock against your pussy. you both moan at the contact and you wrap your legs around hers, fingers tracing along her back. "i've always thought about how hot it would be if i was the one making you scream out my name."
you can feel your clit throb at her words and your body flush. you're not gonna lie - you've thought about it too, but you just assumed she liked being pleased rather than doing the pleasing. i mean, she never complained about always being a pillow princess when you'd tease her about it. but, god, the thought of lucy dicking you down is a delicious idea.
"show me how you fantasized about fucking me, lucy." you whisper in her ear. "please."
she nods, grabbing her faux cock and spitting on it before slowly inserting it inside of you. she easily bottoms out with how wet you are and collapsing on top of your body, lazily rutting against you. she mewls against your neck at how warm your pussy feels, trying to get use to the new feeling. she doesn't want to cum immediately, but goddamn, the way you're clenching around her dick might make her.
lucy gains as much composure as she can and starts giving you long and deep thrusts, cherishing how you struggle to keep your moans in. once again, pride gets to her head and she gets more into it - sitting up straighter and grabbing your hips for leverage as she fucks you.
"i wanna cum inside of this pussy so bad." she throws her head back and groans, a blind hand reaching for your tit and squeezing. she pinches and tugs at your nipple, biting her lip at how they bounce as she pounds into you. "wanna claim you. will you let me?"
"fuck, lucy, yes." you grab a hold of her hand on your chest and rub your thumb over her skin. she's so deep inside of you that you swear you can feel her in your stomach which burns with pleasure. "show me who i belong to."
"i'm gonna use you until my cum can't fit inside of you anymore." she growls, getting hot over the sound of her skin slapping against yours.
this is gonna be a long night, you think.
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The brainrot is hitting hard today…
On the topic of the Drakes, I usually prefer the unconventional but loving parent type (Bruce x the Drakes is my favorite rarepair) but the idea of a de-aged Toddler Tim having no idea what to do when Jason or another Bat does the “ur a baby I’m gonna pick you up” move because his parents stopped picking him up once he started walking is so heartbreakingly wonderful to me.
even with de-aged Tim fics in general, i prefer when he’s a feral raccoon, but just that specific scene is so addicting.
a whole fic exploring the personality of a three-year-old Tim with limited parental context and his dynamics with Jason in particular is mwah.
and then a week later, he’s deaged again but as a 6-year-old and the family has to deal with a brat with too much time on his hands and too little supervision.
3-year-old tim as a victim of neglectful, bordering abusive, parenting
6-year-old tim as a consequence of neglectful, bordering abusive, parenting
also, bonus if 3 y/o Tim just cam saw the graysons fall and only recognizes Dick after Nightwing does something flippy. “Flippy Dick” being his first words since deaging (i think i saw the nickname in a good parents!drakes post ironically)
Yes! I do adore the angst of the Drakes loving Tim, wanting the world for him, and failing. The black and white "Drakes are bad parents" is great for healing and comfort, but the grey area is where I feel a lot of people are with their own parents. The Drakes trying but never being enough is so intoxicating to read. There's usually only bad parents and good parents for the Drakes.
I also love when the Drakes and Bruce share parenting Tim while the kid fights that at every turn. It's hilarious.
For Kid Tim fics, I can't really stand when he's turned into a "so cute but so sad" version. That child is a gremlin. Therefore, I love when authors hint at angst/abuse, but Tim doesn't realize that something is wrong. For him, that's normal. Why would he know the difference?
The nickname "Flippy Dick/Dickie" is cute and I adore a chaotic 6 year old Tim. A lack of supervision for children (who have issues with impulse control due to their brain development) equates to Tim doing whatever the fuck he wants and not respecting authority. He gets to make decisions for himself because that's how it's always been.
On the same note, fics that have Bruce noticing Tim's lack of supervision and then forcing restrictions on Tim freak me out. Yes, a child should not be making such decisions and should not be alone at such ages. However, Tim, in these AUs, has years of experience doing so. Forcing him to follow Bruce's rules without choice disrespects the systems Tim has built up to protect himself. He should have continued autonomy. The goal is to support him. They should allow Tim to slowly integrate himself into the Wayne family as someone ensures he's getting food regularly, has an adult to rely on, and has all his needs met (however Tim chooses to meet them).
If Tim chooses to relinquish his control over every aspect in his life for some help and relief, then absolutely. Despite this, Tim will need to be treated as closer to an equal than a child due to his experiences. He is still a child, but he's been making choices for himself for a while. He should have the respect and autonomy to continue making decisions in regard to his own being.
I guess I got on a rant, lmao. Anyways, de-aging fics that highlight Tim not being able to hide his chaotic nature as well are amazing
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The Lark Ascending: A Chaconne Story (Agatha Harkness x Reader)
Summary: Five years after leaving your heart in New York to chase your dreams in Vienna, you're finally a rising star in the classical music world. After scoring your biggest gig yet- a soloist job for a summer concert series in LA- you discover that the past isn’t as distant as you’d thought.
Word Count: 5.7k
A/N: Hello friends, welcome to the Chaconne sequel, The Lark Ascending! This story is very near and dear to my heart and I’m so excited to be posting it. The inspiration for this fic is from one of my favorite pieces of the same name, The Lark Ascending. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to let me know what you think!
Being a musician was all about sacrifice; you had to be willing to get to the top by any means necessary. You couldn’t just give it your all, it had to be more than that. But what happens when that wasn’t enough? What happens when you have it all just within reach, but no matter how hard you try you can’t quite get there? Those were the questions you had asked yourself when you first moved to Vienna. It seemed like no matter what you tried, how many hours you practiced, it wasn’t right. There was something missing. You did everything you should have, you moved to Vienna (although that wasn’t entirely your idea to begin with), you performed night after night with your blood, sweat, and tears, all while healing a broken heart.
It felt like you had all of the pieces to the puzzle in front of you, but they didn’t fit together. Or rather, you didn’t fit. There was something missing, and no amount of practicing could fix that. There was a small voice in the back of your mind whispering that there was a reason you didn’t make it into the Manhattan Symphony. Agatha would always say how much progress you were making, how much potential you had, that there was promise, but you wondered just how true that was; how much of it she really meant. You had been doing a lot of thinking on your relationship with Agatha lately.
The first few months after you moved to Vienna, you couldn’t even say her name without crying. There were reminders of her everywhere you turned. The coffee shop near your apartment, the rehearsal hall where you spent most of your time, every park you strolled through. You’d stumble upon small things, like a review for a new play, or interesting theories on post-modern music, and subconsciously want to share them with her. A beautiful sunny day, the flowers blooming in the ground, the wind whistling in the distance, the way the dew sparkled on the grass after a thunderstorm, everything was Agatha. You knew they called Vienna “The City of Dreams”, but you never anticipated all of your fantasies to revolve around the same woman. How were you supposed to get closure when she was thousands of miles away?
Your solace came, unsurprisingly, in the form of music. Vienna was the birthplace of some of classical music’s great forefathers, and there was inspiration all around you. Performing with Natasha and her chamber orchestra was like a breath of fresh air, and with every performance you slowly found yourself again. It wasn’t entirely true when they said time heals all wounds, because you weren’t sure you’d ever heal from the scar of leaving Agatha, but with every month that passed you found it hurt less and less. You often thought you would always love her, but this was for the best, you knew it was.
Eventually, it felt like everything was falling into place. Performing with a prestigious group that featured world renowned soloists like Wanda Maximoff meant you were able to make the right connections. You worked harder than you ever thought possible, and channeled your grief into your music to push you forward. It paid off in the end, and with Natasha and Wanda’s help you eventually entered a rising soloist contest.
Getting over your fears of inadequacy was another story. You knew that the one thing that was missing was your ability to believe that you were good enough; that you had always been good enough. No amount of practicing could convince you of that either, it had to come within yourself.
In the days leading up to the competition, you had a breakdown in front of Wanda that changed the way you saw yourself.
You set your violin down on the piano, ignoring Wanda’s concerned glance in your direction. “I think I need to drop out of this competition. I’m nowhere near ready.”
Wanda frowned, looking over the sheet music you had handed her earlier. “What are you talking about? You have everything memorized. You sound really good.”
“I don’t feel ready,” you argued, staring at the floor, trying to ignore the tightening of your chest at the thought of competing that weekend.
“No one ever feels ready for these sorts of things,” Wanda pointed out, and you knew she was trying to help, but you weren’t in the mood to hear it.
“I’ve never had the best luck with these sorts of things,” you reminded her. “I think I need to accept that this kind of dream isn’t feasible for me.”
“Why do you keep getting in your own way?” Wanda questioned, moving the sheet music to the side, her tone curious.
“I’m not getting in my own way,” you politely informed her. “I’m being realistic.”
“Nothing about this, about what we do is realistic,” Wanda corrected you, standing up from her seat. “I never thought I’d make it as a soloist, but I had to believe in myself enough to try. If you can’t even give yourself that, then you’re right; this isn’t feasible for you.”
Her words sat with you for a moment, and as you took it in, you felt the tightening in your chest begin to break until you could breathe again. She was right, you knew it deep down. As silly as it sounded, you had to give yourself a chance.
That ended up being the first competition you ever won, much to your surprise and Wanda’s delight.
Things began to look up after that. You slowly entered more competitions, and eventually you made enough of a name for yourself to begin soloing with various orchestras. It was nothing you could have ever imagined in your wildest dreams, but it was real. You did it. In spite of the heartache and pain, you did it all.
The past year proved to be your busiest yet. You had been booked solid with performances across the U.S. with a wide variety of orchestras, and your schedule wasn’t slowing down just yet. You would be spending your summer in Los Angeles, and you were still in disbelief.
If you had told yourself five years ago that you would be the featured artist in residence of the Los Angeles Symphony’s summer season, you would have thought it was a joke. Being the premiere performing symphony on the entire west coast, they had a stellar reputation and drew in huge crowds. Stephen Strange was a legendary conductor who you had always dreamed of getting to work with. It almost felt too good to be true.
You made it to the symphony center a little earlier than you planned, but with the unpredictability of LA traffic you didn’t want to risk being late. All that was on your agenda for the day was a meeting with the CFO of the board, Tony Stark, and a short rehearsal. But, you were hoping to get a quick peak of the concert hall while it was still empty. There weren't many people around this early in the day, but you had little trouble navigating yourself around until you found the backstage door.
The concert hall was pitch black, and you fumbled with the switches backstage before managing to flip on a single stage light. You wouldn’t need anything more than that, surely. Stepping on the stage you looked out at the vast concert hall, which seemed to hold hundreds of empty seats, and you pictured what it would be like to step out to thunderous applause. None of your previous experiences performing as a soloist had ever been for an audience of this size, and you silently came to the realization that the crowd at the Hollywood Bowl would be even larger. A familiar tingle of nerves coursed through your system as tiny thoughts of doubt twirled around your brain. Were you ready for this?
Absentmindedly tapping your fingers against the music stand at the podium, your eyes swept across the room. A quick glance at the schedule confirmed that no one from the orchestra would be here until later in the evening, so you’d have the place entirely to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you unpacked your violin and began to tune, taking note of how the sound bounced all around the walls, and gradually felt yourself relax. It was funny, you mused as you lowered your violin, how easy it was for you to discredit how much you had accomplished over the past few years. You weren’t just some conductor’s assistant anymore, you were a professional violinist, and a good one at that. It was unclear if your hesitation to accept your success came from the fear of being considered overly cocky, or if it derived from years of low self esteem and an inferiority complex.
Taking another long, calming breath, you swept those thoughts aside. Raising your violin, you rolled your shoulders back, turning so you were facing the front of the hall. It would be foolish to play the entire piece hours before rehearsal, as you would be wasting energy that you would desperately need. Performing was a lot like running a marathon, you couldn’t blow through everything you had in the first few miles and be left with nothing for the end. No, you needed to be intentional with every movement of your bow and shift of your fingers up and down the fingerboard.
The Lark Ascending was a majestic sixteen minute piece that was filled with swooping melodies as the violin sang higher and higher with every measure. Vaughan Williams was a composer during the late Romantic Era, crossing over into the Contemporary, and he had been inspired by a poem of the same name written by English author George Meredith. Vaughan Williams was able to create such stirring imagery with the notes on the page, that it was easy to get lost as you were playing and get transported to this dreamy, astral realm. Filled with a gorgeous blend of vivid colors and clouds, you felt like the lark Vaughan Williams was depicting, soaring through the clear skies.
The piece was filled with vulnerable cadences where you played without the orchestra’s accompaniment acting as a safety net in case you fell. You had to be completely sure of yourself, a hint of hesitation of your fingers or incomplete bow changes would ruin this picturesque painting. Rolling your bow to the frog, you internalized what you wanted your first note to sound like, settling on working on your opening phrase. Placing your fingers on the string, you closed your eyes and began. Your introduction was a stunning cadenza, with the tempo gradually increasing as you began your opening runs, your fingers gliding across the strings.
There was freedom with the tempo, allowing you to take your time and savor each note, your vibrato ringing through the hall. As you climbed higher and higher into the stratosphere it almost felt like you were the lark, ascending into the open air. Performing like this had unlocked a new sense of freedom you always yearned for; the countless hours of practicing turned into an almost effortless sight to any audience. It was as natural as breathing, and each exhale you took matched the strokes of your bow. Nearing the end of the phrase, you tried a new stylistic technique as you shifted your fingers gradually down the fingerboard, making note to try it again later at rehearsal.
As your bow stopped moving you made a few other mental notes of where you could add more vibrato, or improve your dynamics, when all of the lights in the hall turned on, snapping you out of your inner thoughts. The abrupt sound of loud clapping is what startled you the most, as you thought no one else would be using the stage until tonight. You turned around to find the stage door was still ajar, just as you left it, but you noticed a figure lingering in the shadows, and you nearly jumped at the sight. The building was secure enough that you weren’t going to be murdered, right?
“Can I help you?” You asked as politely as possible, setting your violin in its case.
“I have to say, dear, you certainly know how to leave a girl wanting more,” A familiar voice rang out, amusement clear from their tone as they stepped into the light. “You must have had an excellent teacher.”
Agatha Harkness leaned against the door frame, hands folded across her chest. Her dark hair was splayed against her shoulders in their usual messy curls, and you were surprised to find her in more casual attire consisting of a pair of black jeans and a lightweight button-up sheer white shirt. She arched an eyebrow at your shocked expression
You felt your heart stop as you stared into a familiar pair of blue eyes. “Agatha?”
Her lips twisted upwards, smirking, a familiar glint in her eyes. “Surprised to see me?”
Time stood still as you were frozen in place, millions of thoughts dancing around your brain. You were unsure if it had been five seconds or five hours, all you could do was try to remember to breathe. Agatha was here, but how was she here? Were you imagining it? It wouldn’t have been the first time, as you’d lost track of the number of appearances she had made in your dreams over the years. They were all of slightly different variations, but would all end in the same heartbreaking fashion of reconciling with the conductor and feeling a sense of happiness you’d long forgotten…until you inevitably woke up alone.
Blinking, you took a timid step towards her, your hands uncomfortably folding behind your back. “Agatha, what are you doing here?”
Ignoring your question, she walked over to your violin case, and, despite your protests, she picked up your violin, examining it. “I see someone got a new instrument.” Gently turning it, you watched her trace the scroll, her fingers dancing around the pegs. “A shame, really, I was quite fond of your old one. But this is nice too, I suppose. What is it? Italian? German?“
“Swiss, actually,” you lightly corrected her, holding out your hands, signaling for her to hand it over.
As she disregarded your wishes for a second time, you felt a familiar pang of annoyance at how stubborn she could be. Picking up your bow, she raised your violin, setting the bow on the string, before releasing and producing a G-major chord. As the chord echoed throughout the hall you relished in the sound. Agatha had rarely used your violin before. She had always insisted that her talents remained with conducting and the piano, but you recalled a few memories of convincing her to play a scale or two on your violin.
You were normally extremely protective over your instrument, often refusing to allow anyone else to even hold her. However, you recollected, it had never been like that with Agatha. There had been some deep, unspoken level of trust that you had never felt with anyone else.
“Impressive,” Agatha remarked, appearing to admire the sound quality, before finally handing it back to you. Her hands briefly brushed against yours as you wrapped your hands around the neck of your violin, and it was as if you had been zapped by lightning.
But as quickly as the sensation overcame you, it was gone. Agatha retracted her hands, deep blue eyes boring into yours with the same intensity she always seemed to carry.
Clearing your throat, you broke eye contact, feeling the weight of her gaze still on you. “You never answered my question. What are you doing here?”
The conductor released a thoughtful hum, as you watched her move towards the edge of the stage. “Now is that any way to greet the Los Angeles Symphony’s guest conductor, dear?”
Guest conductor? Your face scrunched up, surprise coloring your features. None of your recent internet searches of the conductor revealed she would be in Los Angeles for any upcoming performances. Now, you weren’t exactly stalking Agatha, that would be creepy. You just liked to occasionally see what she was up to. That was normal, right?
“Tony never mentioned a guest conductor when I spoke with him earlier,” you pointed out, leaving out your internal ramblings as you were sure Agatha would get far too much pleasure from hearing you had looked her up.
“Well, it appears that Stephen contracted a rather nasty stomach bug, and I just happened to be in the area.” Agatha explained, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
Now, you weren’t claiming to be an expert geographer, but something in your gut told you that she was lying. “So you just happened to be in California when you live on the East Coast?”
“Something like that,” Agatha tossed out, teasing you ever so slightly, and you scoffed.
She had always been elusive; that had been part of her charm. You never entirely knew what to expect when you were dealing with Agatha Harkness, and that used to excite you. She often reminded you of a raging hurricane, with her occasional fits of anger and passion all mingling together like the waves crashing against the shore. There had been a gentler side to her, of course, located in the eye of the storm. That had been the Agatha you were most familiar with, underneath all of the sarcastic quips and horrible temper was the woman you had once fallen in love with.
Nothing about her had ever been direct, which nearly drove you mad. But the subtlety of how she offered her affection more than made up for it. Nearly every night she insisted on driving you home, and you had quickly learned she detested the subway. She had been horrified when you had revealed you almost never cooked, so she made a point to teach you her favorite recipes (while only gently mocking your lack of skill in the kitchen in the process). It was clear she hadn’t been used to expressing her emotions, but then again you had never been an expert in that field either. Still, she loved you in her own way, and deep down a small part of you knew she loved you enough to let you go all those years ago.
But standing here now, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was really doing here. Did she know you were set to premiere with the orchestra? There was a fleeting thought where you dared to wonder if she came here for you, but you knew that was too foolish to even imagine. It had been so long without any word from her, why would she come to you now? You had performed with a few other orchestras in the States over the past year, and there had been a few brief moments where you hoped she would show, but she never did.
She was looking pleased, far too pleased for your liking. A rather dark thought crossed your mind, and you shot her an incredulous look. “Oh my god, did you do something to Stephen?”
Agatha let out a loud cackle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m a conductor, dear, not a homicidal witch. What exactly do you think I could have done, beat him up with my baton?”
That painted a rather interesting image in your head, but you frowned at her, unamused. “You’re not going to tell me what you’re doing here, are you?”
“You always were a fast learner, darling,” Agatha quietly remarked as she took a step towards you, the once familiar pet name sounding foreign on her tongue. “I must say, I was surprised to learn you had selected Vaughan Williams.”
“Why?” You questioned, noting how she slowly inched her way closer to you.
“I suppose I assumed you’d pick something with more flare. Tchaikovsky perhaps, or Sibelius.”
Shrugging, you vaguely called to mind one of the first things Agatha had ever said to you. “I don’t know, I guess I always preferred something more subdued, you know?”
You watched her eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint, and it was clear she knew what you were doing. “Something more subdued, hm? Not a fan of the dramatics?”
“I think that’s much more your genre of choice than mine,” You retorted, feeling the air in the room begin to thin as she circled you like a shark.
Agatha stepped in even closer, and her fingers reached up, playing with the loose strands of hair that fell around your shoulders. You felt your body react to her touch, a sensation you’d long forgotten. “You cut your hair,” she murmured, so low you could barely hear her.
“You haven’t seen me in over five years,” you pointed out, feeling a wave of nerves hit you over having her so close. “I’m sure my hair’s changed a lot since then.”
“It looked longer in Chicago,” she mused, still twirling the strands around, and you were stunned. Chicago? Your most recent performance was with the Chicago Philharmonic last month, and that would mean that…was she there?
“How would you know that?” You pressed, and her fingers ceased their movements, as you searched her eyes for a glimpse into what she was implying.
You could feel millions of unanswered questions dancing between the two of you, the tension thick in the air. Agatha’s hands abruptly dropped your hair as if she had been burned, and you briefly yearned for her touch again.
“My assistant showed me a recording of the performance on their phone,” Agatha explained, folding her hands against her chest. “Your stage presence certainly has improved, but you were late coming out of your cadenza.”
Ignoring the slight dig, your brain honed in on what she said prior to that. Her assistant. You couldn’t help but ask yourself if she had kept the same assistant since you left. A brief, but intrusive, thought made you wonder if the dynamic between Agatha and this new assistant was similar to the one you once shared. Did she call them the same terms of endearments she had bestowed upon you? Did she introduce them to her favorite old movies that you used to beg her to turn on? Did she go out of her way to fluster them, as she once took pleasure in doing to you?
You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much. It wasn’t as if you were together anymore, Agatha was free to do what she liked and to see who she pleased. You had a few short-lived, meaningless flings while living abroad, so it would be hypocritical to judge her. But, there was a voice screaming deep inside you, questioning how special your time together truly was if she could have replaced you so easily?
“Right, your assistant.” You tried your best to keep the bitterness from seeping through, but could practically taste the venom in your mouth.
Agatha raised her eyebrows, but refrained from commenting on your change in tone. Instead, she turned to walk down the stairs of the stage, leading to the aisle. “I only heard the last few bars of your cadenza, and it isn’t terrible, but it could certainly be better. Now, I don’t have my score on me, but it sounds like you’re losing too much momentum as you come down the fingerboard.” She sat a few rows back from the stage, crossing her legs together. “Could you take it again from your last run, and try to make your decrescendo last longer? We want to elongate these phrases to draw the audience in.”
There had been a time when you would have done anything Agatha had asked of you without question. Your daily practice sessions with the conductor had been grueling at times, as she was incredibly nitpicky, and had an impeccably well-trained ear. Any missed entrance or a note that was even just a hair flat she would pick up on. You had worked with a lot of gifted musicians in the past, but none of them could dream of coming close to Agatha Harkness. She wasn’t just a conductor, she possessed the rare ability to take the notes off the page and transform them into these brilliant, colorful works of art.
You used to live for her praise, and would often go out of your way to receive it. It had been your worst fear to disappoint her somehow, even if it meant sacrificing your own dreams to please her. But things were different now, you weren’t her assistant anymore. The burning desire to gain her approval still lingered somewhere within you, but it wasn’t as strong anymore. You knew that you would be okay without it, as you had to learn to live without her.
Giving her a pointed look, you decided to test the waters. “You do realize you’re not my boss anymore, right? I don’t have to just do whatever you say.”
Agatha looked momentarily stunned, and you could practically watch the gears turning in her head. “If I recall correctly, you used to enjoy having me tell you what to do.”
Looking down, you forced yourself to not remember just how much you used to enjoy that. Clearing your throat, you thought of something to fire back with. “Well, they do say memory is the first thing to go.”
“Funny, dear.” Agatha deadpanned, but as you lifted your head you were able to see the corners of her lips were turned upwards. “But I’m not paying you to just stand there and look pretty.”
“You’re actually not paying me at all, the orchestra is.”
“Technicalities,” Agatha said dismissively, waving her hand to signal you to hurry up. “And as you just so kindly pointed out, I’m not getting any younger. Any day now.”
It was clear Agatha wasn’t going to let up, and you weren’t in the mood to keep arguing with her. Grabbing your violin, you gently rested it under your arm. “Should I start at my last entrance?”
Agatha had a thoughtful expression on her face, and you couldn’t help but focus on her fingers tapping out indecipherable rhythms on the top of the seats in front of her. “Hmmm, let’s take it from the top. Do you need your sheet music?”
Shaking your head, you raised your violin. Placing your bow on the string, you tried to rid yourself of the nerves you could feel start to overtake you. Your first few notes rang through the hall as you tried to perfectly time each shift of your fingers and vibrato. Everything had to be fluid; any jerky bow changes or careless finger placements would risk destroying the exquisite illusion you were painting. Some violinists would claim the most challenging pieces to perform were the ones with incredibly fast passages that were often impossible to master. Your brain had to be a few steps ahead of your nimble fingers so you could anticipate what the next notes would be, and one small slip up would send you tumbling down.
While you agreed that exuberant pieces were extremely difficult, you would argue that the hardest pieces to perform as a soloist were the more melodic ones. The pieces filled with stunning melodies, warmed up by gorgeous vibrato. They weren’t packed with thrilling runs up and down the fingerboard, instead they were notated with sweet, heartbreakingly beautiful lines that required you to pour your heart out. Yes, it was scary to have to nail a few hundred notes coming out one after another, but the hardest feat to master on the violin was the ability to play achingly slow, glorious passages. It was to fully captivate an audience with every elegant swish of your bow and dance of your fingers on the strings.
You were so swept up in the notes you had memorized in your brain, you barely heard the soft creaking of the stairs leading up to the stage. There was a particularly bare section halfway through your cadenza, where you were so high up the fingerboard that you needed to extend your elbow to allow your fingers to reach. It wasn’t good enough to merely play the right notes; you had to be confident your left hand was pressing down on the correct spot on the string, while your right hand held the bow but didn’t press too hard down. If you applied too much pressure when you released the bow, it would produce a screeching noise on the string.
Continuing on, you kept your fingers on your bow relaxed, but you could gradually feel your shoulders begin to tighten. This happened on occasions when you were feeling particularly nervous or antsy, and it was usually difficult for you to relax them. As you tried to refocus your breathing and attempt to get your body to calm down, you could feel a familiar presence lurking in the background. Even though you could not see her, you knew she was right behind you. You had found yourself in this exact scenario with the conductor too many times to count. She would always promise to stay in her seat while you were playing for her, but would almost always end up on the stage within mere moments.
As if she could sense you about to stop playing, you heard her voice ring out. “Don’t stop now, dear. I’m just observing something.”
You wanted to turn around and ask if she was observing your ass, but you knew she would merely retort with something to make you blush furiously in response. So you kept going, trying not to picture what she was doing.
As the line slowly started to take you down the fingerboard with every new phrase, you put all of your attention into your intonation. You could hear her take yet another small step towards you, to the point where she was nearly pressed up against you.
“You need to relax.” Agatha uttered, so close to whispering in your ear that you reflexively shivered. She put one hand on your shoulder, rubbing gentle circles. “Your posture is giving me horrible flashbacks.”
It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to remember the correct notes when she was closer to you than she had been in so long. Her other hand rested on your hip, the sensation almost causing you to drop your violin. It had been so long since you last felt her touch, and you could just barely hold onto the melody in your memory. A small voice in the back of your brain begged for more, but you ignored it.
“Relax.” Agatha repeated, her voice firmer this time, and you felt your body obey her command. Your shoulders finally went down to their correct position, but her hands stayed on you. “There we go, good girl.”
Your brain buzzed at her words, feeling your cheeks burn and you were thankful she couldn’t see the effect she still had on you. As you reached the end of the cadenza, you slowly lowered your instrument, trying your best not to fall over from the overwhelming feeling surrounding you. “So, what did you think?”
Using the hand situated on your hip, Agatha swiftly twisted you around to face her, moving the hand she had on your shoulder down to help secure your violin. You stumbled just ever so slightly, but she steadied you, her grip tightening on your waist.
“Easy there,” Agatha lightly teased, and you thought you saw her eyes hungrily rake up and down your body. “Have you always been this jumpy, or are you just excited to see me?”
There was so much you wanted to say, but there was a lump in your throat that grew bigger with every tug on your waist, drawing you impossibly closer to the woman your brain refused to let go of. She was infuriatingly high-handed, extremely egotistical, and was single-handedly the most stubborn individual you had ever encountered. She was obsessive, and aggressive, and had her eyes always been so blue?
“Agatha…” you managed to breathe out, desperately trying to clear your head and regain some sense of self control, but your brain felt slippery.
The combination of the heat from the bright stage lights and the intensely burning gaze from the conductor had you feeling more unsteady on your feet as the seconds slowly ticked by. You’d spent the past year performing in sold out concert halls, yet you were never more nervous than you currently felt being face to face with Agatha Harkness.
It was unclear how long you stood there, staring at each other. You knew Agatha well enough to know she had something to say, it was written all over her face. But she remained silent, one hand situated on your waist and the other gently holding your violin in place. There was something about the way she was looking at you, as if she thought she’d never see you again.
Just as she opened her mouth to say something, a loud buzzing noise began to ring through the hall. The moment was broken as she released you, sighing as she reached to her back pocket, revealing her cell phone.
Squinting at the screen, and you suddenly remembered the difficulty she had of reading off her phone without her glasses, she frowned. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s my assistant.”
You took a step backwards, feeling burned. “Right. Your assistant. Best not keep them waiting.”
Agatha gave you a brief, perplexed glance before answering her phone. “What do you want now?” Loudly sighing, you watched as she closed her eyes, clearly vexed. “I already told you, for the millionth time, it’s the box in my study.” Pausing, as she listened to her assistant reply, she held up a finger to you, signaling for you to wait for her. “For the last time, no, nothing else. Just the box in my study, the singular box. Make sure Scratchy is ready to go as well.”
It appeared the assistant had more questions, as you watched Agatha pinch the bridge of her nose in agitation. “No, no, no, stop,” she then paused, and looked at you again. “I have to deal with this, I’ll see you at rehearsal.”
She stormed away without another word, squawking orders over the phone, and you were left in the aftershock of the earthquake that was Agatha Harkness.
#agatha harkness#agatha harkness x reader#wandavision au#marvel au#agatha harkness fanfiction#agatha all along
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For the artist asks: 3, 4, & 19? I hope you have a good day!:)
3. your favorite piece(s)?
oooh it's too hard to choose! for the sake that it's one with fewer notes I'll say this old one from November 2022 - it feels like the beginning of it all, still figuring out the whole Dreamling dynamic: I call it "communion"
link to tumblr post
4. piece you wish got more love?
I think both one of my dragon fic illustrations and the Klimt one deserve more love, I put a lot of effort into these paintings and rememeber painting them fondly. But I know they both have special themes and are tied to stories that do not appeal to everybody so it makes sense for them to be less popular. I'm not mad about it or anything
19. where do you find inspiration?
Music mostly, and song lyrics! Or writing/fics, of others or my own sometimes. Also other people's art can sometimes inspire me to tackle a theme or try something new. Throwing ideas around on discord with mutuals sometimes spawns fun ideas as well :3
Thank you very much for asking, have a nice day too!
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asking for any pricegaz thoughts if u have any 🙏
okay hold on give me a sec. i have thoughts to throw at the wall and hope they stick and make some amount of sense (scroll to the bottom for the fic ideas i have for them but will probably never write 👍)
((tw if you don't know my blog: discussion of toxic and abusive relationships below. i write dark fic))
so the power dynamic between price and gaz has the potential to be sssoooo hot to me, but it doesn't quite Click in the way i was expecting tbh? it took me a while to think of why but i think it's because gaz like... has too much of a spine
like okay: no matter how ooc it might be, in my head soap is disgustingly easy for ghost. would do anything he says, no matter how much he doesn't want to. but gaz feels like he's more likely to say no, to stand his ground and put up a fight
which totally makes the potential toxic dynamic between he and price way more interesting. price would have to use manipulation and more subtle methods to get gaz firmly in the palm of his hand, where ghost just has to shove soap hard enough in the direction he wants, yk?
and like. i love that. older man in power seeing this younger man and molding him slowly but surely into the exact shape he wants, doing it slowly and carefully enough to make sure he doesn't even realize what's happening (because the younger man would hate it). that bit where gaz questions what they're doing and price basically says "be okay with it or get out of my sight" despite gaz clearly being uncomfortable? ohhhhh there's something delicious there
here's the problem: if you've read anything i've ever written ever, you know it's mostly porn. i'm not very good at writing plot, and it's something i'm trying to work on in the depths of my google docs, but i know what my strengths are - sex scenes. in my ghoap fics, that's easy. ghost noncons soap, usually forcefully. but with the dynamic price and gaz need? a fic for them (in my mind) needs way more focus on plot and the way price is manipulating gaz
that being said, if i had the patience? and the confidence in my writing? these are the fics i'd write for pricegaz:
cult leader price x undercover cop gaz. price knows gaz is a cop as soon as he comes to their little town, but gaz thinks he's still undercover. i think i'd have price slowly coax gaz into his viewpoint, drawing him closer and closer to him (with the added bonus that he doesn't even have to be the one to cut gaz off from the outside world). i think eventually gaz would come to a Sharp Realization, and price would be forced to.... extremes to keep him. i think it would be very hannibal/will, with gaz trying to deny that he's fallen to price's level but eventually being forced to confront the fact that he doesn't really want to turn price in anymore
maybe something similar to ruyfylb - maybe truck driver price and his favorite lot lizard, gaz? a consensual exchange but gaz would definitely not be prostituting himself if he didn't have to, and he's not great at pretending to enjoy his time with price (which is what price really enjoys)
fisherman price x selkie gaz. idk the intricacies of this one, and you could totally make it nikgazprice, but i'd like to see jailer price who is resolute in his unwillingness to let gaz go while still trying to keep him happy. he's stern and strict but he does try to make gaz comfortable, yk? i think that dynamic would be interesting, but very slow since gaz isn't the fieriest of characters. i do not excel at slow lol
historical au - gaz has a distant relative who's just died and he inherits a title with no warning. when he travels to the country estate that's his new home, he meets the head servant john price. you could have price teaching gaz how to be duke (or whatever the title is) and keep that power dynamic, while also getting to lowkey have rich boy x mean older man smut. so like. win-win. ((just think of price bending gaz over and spanking him or railing him while having him recite his paperwork out loud to make sure he's reading....))
#dark fic#pricegaz#< sorry to infiltrate yall's tag but i need this sorted properly on my blog lolll#bo writes#< so i can see these concepts again sometime lmao
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Hot Cocoa Kisses
Sam Kiszka x afab!reader
warnings: some scandalous touching but nothing too spicy mostly teasing. a lot of teasing. fluffy little winter fic. no use of "Y/N". kissing. used the word "girls" to refer to Rose and reader.
You and Sammy stood bundled up from head to toe as flurries of snowflakes gently drifted down from the slate-grey sky. The two of you watched Rose bolt around, causing chaos, trying to eat the flakes, and playing in the snow. As you watched her play, you giggled, your breath forming soft clouds in the frigid air while Sammy toggled with the settings of his film camera looped around his neck, readying to take a picture of Rose covered in snow.
“Rose! Looky here!” Sammy whistled, holding up her favorite ball in one hand and his camera up to his eye with the other.
Rose immediately stopped in her tracks, ears perking up and eyes locating the ball Sam held. A chorus of clicks ensued before Sammy threw the ball for her to retrieve.
“She looks like she’s got a beard with all that snow covering her face!” you giggled as you snuggled into Sam’s side.
“She’s a little gremlin, a snow gremlin…no, a snow monster!! She’s gonna get you!!” Sam stated, pulling you flush to his chest and tickling your side.
“She’s not a monster, Sammy!!” you yelped as he dug into your sides, “My Rose Bud is too sweet to be a monster!” you gasped dramatically.
“You’re right. She loves her humans too much to turn on us!” Sammy smiles down at you, placing a kiss on your chilly cheek. The sound of snow crunching caught both of your attention, as Rose began to dig a hole in the snow.
Abruptly, the wind picked up and whipped your hair around as the snow began to fall quicker and harder.
“I think it may be time to head inside, yeah?” you stated, pulling your scarf taught around your nose and mouth.
“I think so. Let’s get our snow monster inside.” Sammy agreed, whistling for Rose as the two of you trekked through the snow and up to the step of the cabin porch.
The three of you were staying in the quaint stone cabin Sammy had bought in the Blue Ridge Mountains as a little getaway from the hustle and bustle of Nashville and tour life. Sam, affectionately called the cabin “The Love Nest” because the both of you could escape and simply be together. After the second leg of the Starcatcher World Tour, Sammy decided you both needed some time away from the rest of the world. You packed up your things into the car and made the trip to the secluded cabin, nestled among the snowy pines and forest creatures.
As Sammy bolts the door closed, Rose shakes the snow off her fur and finds her bed by the fireplace.
“I need to get that thing going. I can’t have my girls freezing!” Sammy laughs as he shucks off his winter clothes and boots.
“I’m gonna make us some cocoa while you do that.” you say as you remove your layers too.
“Sounds great, baby.” Sammy smiles.
You enter the kitchen and gather everything you need: a saucepan from under the stove, two mugs from the top cupboard, the milk carton from the fridge, and the hot cocoa mix from the pantry. You get to work pouring the milk into the pan and clicking the stove top to life. As you stir the milk around the pan lost in your head, you feel Sam’s warm arms wrap around your waist and his chin rest in the crook between your shoulder and neck watching you work.
“How’s it going, lovebug?” Sam asks, placing a kiss just behind your ear.
“Hmm, well, now you’re distracting me. Gotta keep an eye on the pan.” you tease.
“Me? A distraction? No!” Sam antagonizes.
His hands slide under the hem of your long sleeve to draw circles with his thumbs against the skin of your stomach.
“Sammy, quit that tickles.” you gasp, squirming in his ever-tightening grip.
“Shh, watch the pan.” he instructs as his hands wander up higher to rest against your ribcage right under your breasts.
“Sam.” you whine.
“Hush.”
“Sammy!” you whine, getting his attention. “The milk is done, and it’s gonna burn if I don’t turn the heat off.” you huff out, flustered.
“Oh…sorry, bug.”
“It’s fine. I just can’t focus on making us cocoa when you’re feeling me up,”
“I thought you liked it when I felt you up.” Sammy smirked, moving his hands down to rest at your waist.
“I do but not when I am freezing and trying to make us cocoa!” you huff rolling your eyes. “Can you grab me a spoon so I can add the mix?”
“On it!”
Sam shuffles over to the other side of the island and grabs a spoon from out of the as you pour the milk into both of your mugs. Handing over the spoon, you crack open the hot cocoa mix and scoop a generous amount into Sammy’s “World’s Best Dog Dad” mug and your ladybug mug that Sam got you for Valentine’s Day a year ago. After thoroughly mixing the powder into both mugs, you handed Sammy his and grabbed yours from the counter.
“Cheers!” Sammy said, clinking his mug against yours, making you chuckle and shake your head.
Taking a sip, your eyes fluttered and closed as the cocoa heated you from the inside out.
“Oh, this is good,” Sammy hummed in appreciation. “Let’s go enjoy it by the fireplace and get extra toasty.”
The two of you made your way into the living room, where the fire that Sam had so beautifully crafted was roaring in the fireplace. You sat your mug on the coffee table and then sat down on the big worn-in couch that Sam had thrifted when he bought the cabin.
“Here, make yourself comfy I need to go grab a snack from the kitchen. Do you want anything?” Sam asked, handing you two fluffy blankets.
“No thanks, I’m ok.” you smile, tucking the blanket over your legs.
“Okay.”
Sam disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve his snack, and you made yourself comfortable on the couch. Then, you grabbed your mug and took another drink from it. You peered over at Rose, who was watching you with attentive eyes from her dog bed next to the fireplace.
“Come here, girly,” you called, patting the space next to you on the couch. Rose jumped right out of her bed and onto the couch next to you, plopping her head in your lap. Sam returned to the living room with a bag of soft pretzel bites in one hand and his phone in the other.
“Who eats soft pretzels with hot cocoa?” you questioned as he sat beside you.
“Me, duh. It’s like a sweet and salty thing. It’s good.”
“I guess, but that’s weird Sammy.” you grimace.
“Whatever you say, bug.” “But who needs pretzels when I have you,” Sammy says, pulling at your leg to get you closer to him.
“Are you calling me salty?”
“Mmm, maybe.”
“Samuel Francis!”
“Oh, hush and get your ass over here.”
You shake your head and look down at Rose, who still has her head in your lap.
“Do you hear your Daddy, Rose?! How rude!” you pout, ignoring Sam to talk to the pit bull.
“If I apologized for calling you salty, would you come and sit closer to me?”
“Negative. Our daughter has already staked claim to her my lap, and by dog law, unfortunately, I cannot move; therefore, you’ll need to get your ass over here.” you reply, using his own words against you.
“Man, you really are salty, huh?”
Sammy sighs at your attitude but gives in. He shuffles closer to you, pulling his blanket and mug with him. He rests his head against your shoulder, reaching down to your lap to scratch Rose’s head. Peering over to the big glass floor-to-ceiling windows over your shoulder, the snow outside had picked up, the wind throwing snow around the air.
“Wow, look outside. Kinda looks like we're in a snow globe, and someone shook up our globe.” Sam chuckled, pointing to the window.
“Oh wow. It’s really pretty out there, but I’d much rather spectate from inside where it’s warm.”
“Me too, bug.” Sammy agrees, hooking his arm around your shoulder.
You lean into his embrace as you sip your cocoa and watch the snow fall from the sky, peace and tranquility taking over your body as you snuggle into Sam’s body and pet Rose’s head, lulling her to sleep.
“Thank you for this little getaway, for making the fire, and for keeping Rose and I warm,” you smile at him.
“And thank you for making the cocoa, my little chef.” Sammy smiles back, leaning down to kiss your lips and the cold tip of your nose.
“I love you.”
“Love you too, Sammy.”
tag list: @sacredjake @digitalcalamity @spark-my-nature @ohhkaty @andtherestishistory13 @hearts-hunger @mal-gvf @losfacedevil
#for my grand rapids babes who need something to read lol#sammy kiszka#sam kiszka#sammy gvf#samuel francis kiszka#sfk#greta van fleet#gvf#sammy kiszka x reader#sam kiszka x reader#sam kiszka x reaer fluff#sammy kiszka x reader fluff#greta van fleet fanfiction#greta van fleet fanfic#greta van fic#gvf fanfic#gvf fanfiction#sammy kiszka fanfic#sammy kiszka fanfiction#sam kiszka fluff#sammy kiszka fluff
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Hello! I really like your fics and I saw your spotify event! I love Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridges too so, since you've already wrote Lover (really sweet and cute), I'll ask for "Went looking for a creation myth" (I Know The End is my FAVORITE song) with Zoro. Thank you very much! 😊
I KNOW THE END — RORONOA ZORO
roronoa zoro + went looking for a creation myth
content: fem! reader, fluff, part of the spotify wrapped event
notes: i’m so sorry this is so late! i hope you like it <3
as a pirate, there are few days you get to just relax and explore places you visit, especially given the particularly high bounty of yours and the rest of the strawhats. you struck gold when you docked in a small town that was amenable to pirate-visitors and very opposed to marine presence.
you, nami, and robin are lounging on some beach chairs the locals lent you. while robin’s deep in her newest book, one that’s bigger and thicker than her last one, you and nami watch as usopp, luffy, and zoro wrestle at the shoreline. usopp manages to get an upper hand on zoro, springing onto his back and covering his eyes. “now, luffy!” usopp yells and luffy’s launching himself towards the two. they all collapse, usopp and luffy laughing raucously and zoro grumbling and cursing beneath them.
“hello to the most beautiful women in the world,” sanji says as he approaches, balancing a tray of iced drinks. “care for refreshers? hibiscus and honey iced tea.” the drinks are a rich fuschia with a lemon at the rim and the sight makes your mouth water.
“thanks, sanji.” you take a drink and pass another to nami while sanji circles your cluster of chairs to get to robin, who doesn’t even look up as she flips a page and takes a glass.
“oi, lovecook, do we get anything?” zoro saunters up the dune, followed by luffy and usopp.
“no.”
zoro scowls before turning to you. “let me have a sip.”
“no!” you say, drawing your glass close to your chest. you can feel the condensation gathering at your fingertips. “get your own!”
“curly brows won’t give me one,” zoro says. “what’s the big deal, just let me have some of yours?”
“no, you always say you’ll only have a little and then glug down half!”
“isn’t a perk of a being in a relationship sharing things with your partner?’
you snort, “please, you’re the biggest hog of us all.” zoro glowers and you sigh, “fine, you big baby.” you hold out your drink and he goes to take it when you jerk your arm back.
“what now?” he asks.
“one condition.”
“what?”
you grin brightly, tapping your cheek. “a sip for a kiss.”
“you’re impossible,” he says, cheeks flushing but he leans down anyway and pecks your cheek. your own cheeks are warm and you’re not sure it’s from the sun.
you let him take a few sips of your drink before you say, “that’s enough, babe.”
“what? it was barely a drop! just a little more.”
“that wasn’t meant for you, mosshead!” sanji says, snatching the glass from him. he looks into the nearly empty cup and scowls at zoro before turning to you apologetically. “don’t worry, i’ll go whip up another, pretty.”
“thanks, sanji.”
“don’t call my girlfriend ‘pretty.’”
“don’t tell me what to do!”
“i’ll say whatever i want to you!”
you’re not surprised as you watch sanji aim a kick at zoro, your boyfriend immediately parrying. as they start kicking up sand, nami shouts, “ugh, can you guys do this somewhere else?” to their credit, they move their fight elsewhere (before nami has the chance to throw her discarded sandal at them).
she leans back in her chair and groans, “i don’t know how you put up with him sometimes.”
“patience,” you reply and she snorts.
“i don’t even remember how you two got together,” she says. “it was just like one day you were both single and then the next day, you told us you were dating.
you smile a little. you’re fond of the memory — the look of shock on the rest of the crew’s face was priceless, and predictably, sanji and zoro got into an argument about you and how zoro is the last person qualified to date you.
“how’d it happen, anyways?”
“what?”
“you and zoro?”
you try to think back on how it happened. it wasn’t like some sparks-fly moment like you’ve read in some of robin’s books nor some burning confession that was just bubbling up inside you. you remember the day he asked you on a date very well, though.
you were sailing on a calm part of the ocean, and it was a sunny day with a gentle breeze. luffy, chopper, and usopp were playing some card game that was rapidly devolving into a cheating match. nami was tending to her tangerine tree while franky and robin were deep in some conversation.
you and zoro had finished training in the gym and were lounging on deck. you basked in the warmth of the sun, on the verge of sleep, and you rolled over. you bumped into zoro and went to apologize but he just shrugged and pulled you in, letting you rest your head against his chest. “this comfortable?” he asked.
“yeah, you’re a good pillow,” you sighed, closing your eyes.
there was a brief pause before zoro said, “i heard nami and curly brows talking about the island we’re going to. said there was a nice restaurant there. want to go?”
“sure, that sounds nice. are you going to be able to play nice with sanji there?”
“i was thinking it would just be use. you and me.”
you crack opened a eye and glance over at him. he wasn’t looking at you but you could see some red creeping up on his ears. you cuddle into him. “yeah, that sounds nice.”
you turn back to nami and say, “i don’t know. it just felt right. natural.”
she seems content with your answer as she nods and leans back in her chair. you do too, closing your eyes, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and your boyfriend’s distant yells.
#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes#kaiijo's spotify wrapped event#roronoa zoro x reader#zoro x reader#one piece x reader#one piece imagines#one piece scenario#zoro x you#roronoa zoro x you#roronoa zoro fic#zoro fic#zoro imagine#roronoa zoro imagine
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*sad sigh because my favorite Zekina fic hasn't updated in over a month*
#sally speaks#another year around the sun#the author explained in their notes that she has school and i totally understand and hope they are doing well#but i am also hungering for more lol#it's my favorite fic i love it so much it makes me feel the feels#and i just so badly want Zeke and Tina to be happy in it#it's so good y'all
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THAT MOMENT YOU REALIZE ALASTOR IS ACTUALLY WAY SCARIER THAN WE GIVE HIM CREDIT FOR
So, in the throes of doing world-building for my Hazbin fics and analyzing characters and how they fit into Pentagram's political system, I realized not only how powerful Alastor actually is, but how fucking scary.
Now, yes, in the grand scheme of things, Alastor is far from the most powerful person in Hell. Far from it. The Royal Family (Lucifer, Lilith, and Charlie), and the Goetia are way above the Overlords. Our twinky, angsty, galaxy bird, Stolas, could 100% body Alastor. I'm sorry, Al. I love you, babe. But in terms of the hierarchal system, you and the other Overlords aren't influential to the rest of Hell, at all.
But, it's an entirely different story if we stick exclusively to the Pride Ring.
I'm not trying to do a big, essay-length analysis, that's a lot of work and I'm tired, so I'll try to make it as brief as possible.
We know three crucial things: 1) sinners aren't allowed to leave the Pride Ring, 2) they've built a semi-functional society for themselves that is exclusive to their specific ring (with a political system that they've molded just for them), and 3) sinners can't kill other sinners.
So, what we have here is a big piece of land stuffed with people who can't leave it, in a society they've built specifically for themselves, with an amassing population that is constantly growing because they have no way of dying/or killing each other. (Honestly, it's like Heaven was setting them up for an Exterminations - THOUGH I'VE ACTUALLY COME UP WITH A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT, COMPLETELY FANON BASED THEORY/WORLD BUILDING IDEA ABOUT HOW HELL HAD KEPT THE POPULATION DENSISTY CONTROLLED FOR THE MILLENIA OF COLLECTING HUMAN SOULS, HOW THE POPLUATION STILL GOT TOO LARGE AND THUS RESULTED IN THE EXTERMINATIONS, AND HOW IT WAS ROSIE WHO HAD A HUGE HAND IN IT ALL.
Anyway, back on topic, so the Overlords essentially control this Ring. We know Stolas lives in the Pride Ring (judging by the red sky we see when he's at his house), so its possible more Goetia live there too (and imps, and succubi; the Pride Ring is known for being the most diverse of the Rings), but we haven't seen any evidence of the Goetia, or any of the other Hellborn, interact or influencE Pentragram City in a political way--outside of the Goetia being above the Overlords in the hierarchal system). I headcanon that they do have some involvement in Pentagram City, as they do live there, but for the most part, the Pride Ring is left completely to the sinners and how they run things.
Lillith got involved, obviously (but she's been missing for years in the beginning of the show), Lucifer hasn't been involved for who knows how long, and Charlie obviously doesn't have a lot of sway, nor did she have any previous influence given how she's treated by the very people she rules over. Her status is known, but there's no actual respect for her or her title as the literal Princess of Hell.
The royal family may the the strongest beings in all of the 7 Rings, but outside of Lillith, it seems they had very little involvement (in Charlie's case) or interest (in Lucifer's case) in ingratiating themselves into Pentagram City.
The entire Ring is being run by the Overlords. They cannot leave it. The Pride Ring is their domain. This is their new home. This is their world.
And in this world, the Overlords are the top dogs.
So, Alastor is powerful just in the sense that he is one of the Overlords. Like them, he is essentially one of the rulers of their personal, caged-off little world. He has power and political sway. He joined the other Overlords for Carmilla's meeting, where they were going to discuss the aftermath of the Extermination and what they can do about the loss in the population (and thus, their power, given that owning souls is how they get it).
It's implied that this isn't the first time they've had meetings like this, and if they get together to discuss the best ways to recover from the Exterminations and make up for their mutual losses (literally working together when they could've all just been rivals trying to undermine the others to get more souls), who knows what else they've discussed in their efforts to keep Pentagram City running (especially considering that the best way to maintain their power IS by maintaining the city, it's people, and keeping it from falling apart at the seams. Taking care of the city is in their best interests - I use "taking care of" very, very loosely, considering this is still Hell and it's hardly the gold standard of utopia's). They're essentially a Board of Leadership with mutually shared power.
The Overlords have all the power. All the sway. In their established world, THEY are at the top of the food chain.
BUT then, you take into account that sinners can't kill each other (a rule that extends even to the Overlords), and that's when things get interesting.
In episode 4, "Masquerade" Valentino told Angel that he's "killed people for less" during the scene in the dressing room. But, in episode 2, after Valentino had torn apart one of Velvette's models, she wasn't upset in the way an Overlord would be if they lost someone under contract, especially considering that owning souls is what gives them power (and I assume that they own the souls of most, if not all, of the people they employ). She said that she can't sit and wait for "that bitch to pull herself back together," so, yeah, the implication is that sinners can literally be torn apart (even by the Overlords, who are the strongest among them) but won't die is immense. No matter what you do, a sinner will reform, or heal, or whatever, but they will come back.
So, consider, that there is only one person who's been able to kill sinners, permanently, and that person is Alastor.
Not only that, he killed Overlords.
In a realm where death is impossible, Alastor had cheated the system. And as far as we know, he's the only one who's been able to do it.
The only person I can think of who has something similar is Carmilla, but that's because she'd integrated angelic steel into her apparel. (Though, there's something to be said about her selling angelic weapons to the masses, as she is a manufacturer and distributor of them not only in Pentagram city, but all of the 7 Rings, (as Stryker had gotten his hands on a "Carmine blessing tipped rifle" to kill off Stolas, who's a Goetia), thus, sinners killing other sinners can still be possible, but that's only if they get you're hands on a weapon with angelic steel, or they're wealthy enough to buy onr, and I imagine Carmilla doesn't sell those cheap.
But Alastor didn't use angelic steel. He found a way to tear souls apart, where otherwise they were only able to be owned. Considering how terrified Husk (who is one of the most calm and collected people in the Hazbin crew; who had once been an Overlord, himself) was when AIastor threatened to do they same to him, like, that goes to show just how serious it is. He was literally full-body shaking. Ears-pinned back. Flight-fight-or freeze. Pressing himself down into the carpet.
We've never seen him like that at any other time during the show, even during the Extermination when they were all about to die.
Alastor's threat had scared him more than literally getting killed my an army of Exorcist's.
And like, yeah???? I get it????
That shit has to be terrifying. Not only for those that Alastor threatens, but for every single sinner in Pentagram City.
This random guy cheated the system, killed without any outside means, and if he can topple Overlords (the strongest and most powerful of them) almost over night, there's no saying what he can do to regular sinners. (Or what they think he can do, I have more thoughts surrounding whether Alastor would be able to tear apart a soul that is owned by someone else, but this is already getting long).
And, presumably, the only reason he stopped is because he decided to.
Like???? Do you guys understand what I'm saying???? For someone to have that kind of power??? In a system where that power SHOULD NOT be possible??? A power that gives him this massive advantage over everyone else???? That no one else can do???? And the only reason he doesn't use it is because he decides not to????
It's no wonder Alastor was so feared. Why he still is feared (by those who know of him at least LOL he has been gone for 7 years). And, like, yeah we see him be all creepy and scary during the show. We see him use his magic and grow into his demon form, and he is intimidating in that right, but I think the true horror of his character comes from this ability to kill the unkillable in a system where it never should've been possible in the first place.
That's where the true terror of the Radio Demon lies. That's where the visceral fear comes from. And it's why he's someone you wouldn't want to mess with, even for the other Overlords (especially for the other Overlords).
Like, it makes sense why he has such a massive ego. Why he thinks he can take on anyone. It's because he has. He's powerful, even by Overlord standards, and he knows it. And it makes further sense why him now being on a leash is making him unravel at the seams.
Am I making sense??? Is this all just meaningless rambling to you guys??? Idk! Idk. It's just been tumbling through my head, and it made me realize just how scary Alastor is, especially from an outside perspective.
I have SO many headcanons T.T I've done so much world-building, and I am have so much fucking fun. I feel like a kid in a sandbox. My brain hasn't stopped buzzing since this show came out.
Anyway, I'm off to outline more wips and work on the fics I'm writing. Happy Hazbin-ing to the rest of you.
#sometimes I feel like im out of my mind#the way this show makes me go feral#and GOD I love doing worldbuilding for Pentagram City#this is the most worldbuilding I've done for any other fandom or fic I've written#im having so much fun#my favorite worldbuilding right now is what I've come up for the cannibals#they are one of the biggest most crucial most terrifying aspects to the Pride Ring and the sinners#im just out here having a good time#i needed to get these thoughts out of my head#really#its know wonder Alastor has such a massive ego#its not wonder why he thinks he can take on anyone#because he HAS been able to.#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#the radio demon#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#meta#character analysis#world building#headcanons#my world building
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I love you kudos I love you second kudos I love you keysmash comments I love you ‘<3’ I love you guest accounts I love you worldbuilding questions I love you comment spam from new readers I love you bookmarks with summaries of the plot I love you ‘to read’ I love you ‘fave’ I love you Artists who draw scenes from the fic I love you discord proofreaders I love you beta readers I love you Inbox (1)!!!!! You are the beating heart of the Ao3 community and the world is better with you in it!!!
#my posts#Ao3#Ao3 comment appreciation#fandom#fanfiction#meta posts#fanfic#archive of our own#just leave a comment fest#my favorite compliment I've ever recieved was a bookmark#that just said 'fascinating'.#idk something about the knowledge that a person read my work and liked it so much they felt the need to note that down#not for me not for anyone but themselves... it gets to me man#also this post isn't a dig at lurkers ily too#but if you don't usually engage with the stories you like consider starting to do that#comments are easy to leave and there's nothing quite like the feeling of the author replying to you#next time you read something good leave a comment for me. nothing big if that's scary just like#good fic#or#the worldbuilding is cool#or like#im reading this at 3am and i love it#little things#they make the author's day and it feels really nice to be a part of something
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everyday i get closer and closer to writing wholesome fluffy gerbert rpf entirely out of spite for the bert villianizers who turned me away from listening to the used for years
#every day i feel the need to apologize to bert mccracken for just. blindly taking fanfic depections of hom as fact#in my defense i was in middle school and i had never heard of the used to i didnt realize he was a real person for a WHILE#and then once i figured out he was real i literally knew nothing abt him aside from what was in fics and they all treated him the same way#so i just assumed there was some fact behind it ig?? 😭#and then as i got older it just sort of clicked that Oh Yeah all of this shit us Made Up and maybe i should Fact Check This#and now the used is one of my favorite bands and i love bert so much and i am still so fucking angry that everyone fucking treated him like#shit for absolutely no reason they just. needed a villan?#actually no ik the reason is bc he fucking struggled with addiction and people love to villianize addicts#especially bc hes seen as more masculine than gerard so even tho gerard struggled with addiction too HES not the villian bc hes too SWEET#and PURE and SOFT#but bert's seen as more masc and tough and loud so OBVIOUSLY that makes him a violent and abusive addict bc ppl love to equate masculinity#with 'strength' and violence and i could absolutely write a whole fucking paper on this topic if i had time to organize my thoughts#and idk if im even articulating this well rn but yeah. it makes me so fucking angry and disappointed and maybe its a stupid solution but i#know there are still SO many fics out where that do this shit and ik its still fucking with ppls perceptions of bert bc ive seen it!!!#ive seen ppl talk shit abt him and they dont even know *why* theyre talking shit#they just think hes an asshole bc of bullshit theyve heard/read and im sick of it!!!! im gonna write a novel where hes the hero just to#spite you fucks!!!! fuck!
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the sword and shield part of the prophecy is soooo vague that i’ll rotate every possible theory inside my silly little head and then go “or it could be smth else”. absolute net zero conclusions reached but i had fun.
#like. i think hak being the sword is one of if not the most popular theories and i can see it bc well. look at the guy#but it’s the specifics of the wording that give me pause#‘WHEN the four dragons are gathered the sword and shield which will protect the king SHALL AWAKEN’#when hak’s been there from the beginning + there’s also ik-su’s warning that hak will die if yona doesn’t find the dragons#which. there’s definitely ways to interpret him still being the sword (or shield!! that’d also be a neat twist) even with that in mind#but ngl i’m also a sucker for the idea that he’s just. there bc he loves yona. no connection to the prophecy whatsoever.#like both options make sense to me and i can see either one happening#anyway my personal favorite theory rn is that riri is the either the sword or the shield#not saying it’s the most probable option. just the most fun to meeee <3#and ngl it only occurred to me during the latest chapter bc she’s clearly gonna play some kind of role#so it’s not like i have like a mountain of compelling evidence but i do have more than just. a feeling#like she has the sociopolitical standing and the ability (or at least pluckiness) to fill either role right?#and she was introduced and grew as a character only after all four dragons were gathered#which fits with some of the only things we know about the sword and the shield#do u see what i’m getting at?? am i making any sense at all??#it could also ofc be a literal sword and shield which. tbh i think is the most likely but also less fun to speculate about#anyway i also think tae-jun will have a bigger role to play. either as a part of the prophecy or not#but also how might zeno’s recent actions impact the prophecy……. much to think about as always#but that’s enough theorizing for one day! time to grab my iced coffee from the fridge and work on my silly little fic <3#akayona
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Want to feel loved?
Leave a nice comment on someone's fanfic. Right now, the author loves you like no one else. You can even get feedback where someone appreciates you in kind words you haven't heard in a long time irl
#seriously when someone writes me a nice comment on fic i feel like I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FROM TODAY YOU ARE MY FAVORITE PERSON#and vice versa#I'm just expressing how much I enjoyed your story and you replied as if I saved your life#YOU thank ME for the comment in such nice words? I am the one who is grateful for the great story YOU worked so hard on!#the thought that I made your day makes me so happy#ao3#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#fanfiction#archieve of our own#fandom
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MACCC!! for the fanfic ask game thing. ummm i don't know a specific word 2 send but i am intrigued. eyes emoji. (<<on computer and do not want 2 look up emojis just to copy/paste one) what r u writing!!! what's ur fav passage in it so far!!!! i wanna hear abt ur writing!!!!
omg whiskey i forgot we were not mutuals while i was in my fanfic writing arc. omg. i have not written a fic since we became mutuals holy shit !!!!!! absolutelyly insane . ANYWAY i write about my ocs all the time and also silly little self indulgent stories that i dont share bc theyre just for me. BUT. CURRENLTY. i missed writing fics so i am in a months long hiatus of a fic for mission to zyxx which is a silly improv comedy podcast that i was super into right before i got into trigun !!!!!!!! its my beloved ever. however the trigun brain worms overtook me before i finished my fic and i have not gone back to work on it much :( i WANT to finish it tho bc the fandom is very small annnd i literally read every single fic in the ao3 tag in the span of like a week. i need 2 add to it.
ANYWAY basics of the fic (spoilers for mission to zyxx incoming !!) :
the main character has a bug egg laid in his eye and throughout all of season 2 it just grows in his eye and makes it look all fucked up until the s2 finale where the egg hatches and another character pulls his eye out before the bug makes his head explode. << its not as fucked up as it sounds bc this is a full comedy podcast so everything is played for goofs and this moment only lasts a total of like 6 seconds but i am a sucker for body horror especially when it involves gross bugs so !!! i am judt rewriting that scene with my own headcanons ans making it scary and emotional 😌 hi my names mac ghostiezone and i love horror and gay people.
I HAVE TO REREAD MY ENTIRE WIP TO FIND A PART TO POST i cant believe ur making me do this (<< THANK U I HAVE NOT LOOKED AT IT IN WEEKS) apologies in advance for my setup i like 2 write on my phone in the middle of the night so my google docs is in perma-darkmode:
<< we love an alien mind contrrol parasite that makes a usually cowardly docile character behave like a monster 😌😌😌😌
#oh no im feeling the shame of posting a fic involving characters with stupid silly names.#anyway this is sooooo non-canon compliant i just wanted an excuse to be self indulgent and write about fucked up bugs#have u ever heard of leucochloridium.#its a type of parasite that lives in snails eyes and makes them all banded and pulsing to attract birds to eat the snail <3#its what i based the bug eye off of so it behaves in a similar way. hehehehehe.#linked a video to the snail parasite in the descriptiion for the fic i cant wait for people to be so disgusted bc of me >:]#something about me is i love 2 put weird gross biology in fics literally all the time forever#THANK U WHISKEY. GOD I NEED 2 FINISH THIS#i haaaate posting my writing eith no context bc it makes me self aware of how silly it sounds. but also i like 2 talk about my writing#whiskey u missed my fanfic phase i wrote about cwilbur so fucking much my favorite guy ever#SOMETHI G ABOUT ME IS THAT I LOVE 2 TALK ABOUT SEA CREATURES IN MY WRITING#NOTICE I FUCKING MENTION A CUTTLEFISH IN A UNIVERSE WHERE CUTTLEFISH DO NOT EXIST AND ARE NEVER BROUGHT UP EVER#im incurable. fish are too interesting#i use used to use dead fish eye metaphors in descriptions of ghostbur sooo much .#<< unsettling ghostbur is/was my biggest agenda when i was making dsmp content#ANYWAY. THANK U#I LOVE U#friends!!!#asks#anachronistic-falsehood
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Chapter 7: Playing Four-way Hot Potato with the Scheme Bean
T | Fablehaven | Navarog & Mirav | The Sphinx/Mr. Lich | 7/16
Fic Summary: I give you Fablehaven: Book Five (and the end of Book Four), in which most everything's the same except that Navarog lives to be annoying in the background and make a whole lot of trouble.
Chapter Summary: Navarog's colleagues wish most ardently that their stupid, overpowered dragon would focus for just like five minutes, please and thank you, on the task at hand. Navarog, on the other hand, isn't really sure that's fair. He's been focusing, like the most anyone's every focused, but like on two things and two things only. Namely, 1) whatever's even going on between this stupid Shadowcharmer and his stupid off-brand vampire boyfriend and 2) how cool he is and how awful it is that no one wants to acknowledge how cool he is.
#fic#fablehaven#mirav#navarog#the sphinx#mr. lich#ngl this is one of my favorite chs#tho im also very much in love w/ch 9 (for evil reasons)#also so wild that the sphinx/mr. lich isn't like the no. 1 ship for this fandom#i feel like if this was any other piece of media it would be inescapable#but then they dont have any fics#sad#which makes me feel kinda bad about tagging them when theyre only a sideship for this fic but idk i ended up doing it anyway#i will do penance one day
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