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heartsandhischier · 25 days

Text

Breaking the ice

andrei svechnikov x female!reader

summary - 1.2k words. Y/N and Andrei are about to make their first public appearance of their faux relationship part 2 of The Pretend Play

author's note - omd I've already outlined this series to a 10 part series... getting a bit too caught up in this Russian man

warnings - none i think

It was the night of Andrei’s crucial playoff game. The chilly evening air did nothing to cool the simmering tension between Andrei and Y/N as they made their way to the bustling arena. It was their first public outing together since the arranging of their faux relationship. Y/N, despite her visible discomfort, wore Andrei's jersey, the number 37 standing out boldly against the fabric, a symbol of her reluctant role in this charade.

In the car, the atmosphere had been thick with their mutual resentment, their conversation peppered with barbed comments and thinly veiled annoyance. "So, how many hours of my life am I sacrificing to the gods of ice tonight?" Y/N had asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm, her eyes rolling so hard Andrei thought they might get stuck that way.

"Hockey games have three periods, each 20 minutes long, but with breaks and potential overtime, who knows? Could be your whole night," Andrei replied dryly, his focus on the road but his mind racing with the implications of their public debut.

"And it's going to be cold, right? I mean, it's an ice rink. Couldn't you play a sport in a more comfortable climate?" Y/N continued, her complaints a verbal manifestation of her reluctance to be part of this spectacle.

"It's not the Arctic, Y/N. You'll survive. Besides, you're wearing my jersey. Consider it a... personal heater," Andrei shot back, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could have been the start of a smile under different circumstances. "You might actually enjoy it if you stopped complaining for a minute."

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms over the jersey that draped loosely over her frame. "Oh, please, like I'm really going to understand anything that's happening. I just don't get why I have to be there if I don't even follow the sport."

"Because you're supposed to be 'the supportive girlfriend,'" Andrei said, emphasizing the last two words with air quotes, his eyes briefly meeting hers before returning to the road.

The bickering had ebbed as they neared the arena, replaced by a tense silence that spoke volumes of their current state of affairs. They were two individuals tied together by circumstance and necessity, each bearing the weight of their roles with a mix of disdain and resignation.

As they stepped out of the car and into the view of waiting cameras and eager fans, Andrei could feel Y/N stiffen beside him. He offered his arm, a gesture meant for the watching eyes, and after a brief hesitation, she took it, her grip on his arm surprisingly firm.

The flash of cameras and the murmur of the crowd greeted them as they made their way inside, their smiles practiced and their steps measured. "Remember, just smile and wave. Stick to the script, and we'll get through this," Andrei murmured to Y/N, his voice barely audible over the noise.

"Script? I wasn't aware there was a script for pretending to enjoy watching people chase a puck on ice," Y/N whispered back, her voice laced with a mix of humor and bitterness.

As they approached the grand entrance, Andrei leaned in, his voice low but firm. “Hold my hand,” he instructed, a blend of request and command. Y/N’s initial reaction was one of surprise, her brows knitting together in confusion. Yet, his rationale, whispered in a hurried breath – “You wanted me to step up, right? ‘If we’re going to sell this lie?” – prompted a reluctant compliance. With a soft sigh, she placed her hand in his, their fingers intertwining.

The red carpet that adorned the arena’s entrance was a sea of flashing lights and eager faces, the fans’ excitement mirrored by the curiosity swirling around Andrei and Y/N’s relationship. Despite the turmoil of emotions beneath the surface, they navigated with grace, their smiles carefully curated masks worn for the world to see.

As they pause for photographs, the press urges them for a display of affection, keen to capture a moment that would headline the next day's gossip columns. Feeling the weight of expectation on her shoulders, Y/N turns to Andrei, whispering a challenge masked as a flirtation. "Let's see if you're as good at hockey as you're at kissing," she says.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Y/N bridged the gap between them, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was a bold move, surprising Andrei. The cameras flash frantically, capturing the moment from every angle. The kiss, though and part of their act, sends a ripple of excitement through the crowd, and for a moment, blurs the lines between their public facade and private discomfort.

Andrei, caught off guard by Y/N's audacity, can't help but respond to the kiss with a genuine spark of admiration for her boldness. As they part, he looks down at her, a new sense of respect mingling with the complex web of emotions he harbors towards her. The crowd cheers, delighted by the display, and for a fleeting second, Andrei forgets the world watching them.

Following this electrifying prelude, Y/N was ushered to her seat by Andrei's PR manager, ensuring her smooth transition through the still-buzzing crowd. The arena was alive with anticipation, the energy of the fans a pulsating backdrop to the unfolding drama on the ice.

The match was a nail-biter, the Hurricanes and the Flyers locked in a dance of skill, strategy, and sheer will. Andrei's focus was laser-sharp, undeniably influenced by the presence of Y/N in the stand. Her support, whether real or part of their elaborate ruse, fueled his determination.

When Andrei scored, the arena erupted into cheers and applause, a wave of collective joy sweeping through the crowd. Y/N was on her feet, cheering along with the masses, her earlier doubts and pretense of their situation momentarily forgotten in the genuine thrill of the moment. Their eyes met across teh distance, a silent exchange that carried the weight of words and emotions.

The jumbotron, ever watchful, captured Y/n’s animated reaction, her image filling the screen for all to see. Andrei, glancing up at the replay, was struck by the sight of her genuine smile – a smile he realised he had never truly seen until this moment. The sight of her, so vibrant and unrestrained in her joy, sent an unexpected flutter through his heart, a momentary skip in its rhythm that he couldnt quite comprehend.

As the finals buzzer sounds, signalling a hard-fought victory for the Hurricanes. The atmosphere became electric. Andrei was soon engulfed by his teammates, their shared euphoria palpable in their jubilant celebration. Yet, amidst the chaos of victory, andrei’s thoughts lingered on Y/N. as the team commenced their victory lap, he sought her out in the crowd, their eyes meeting once more. For a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the arena, her smile is genuine, her applause enthusiastic.

After the game, Andrei finds Y/N waiting for him outside the locker room. The game had transformed the awkwardness of their initial interactions into something more fluid. “You’re pretty good at this thing,” Y/N quipped, her tone light, teasing, yet underscored with a hint of admiration.

Andrei, still riding the wave of adrenaline and unexpected sentimentality, responded with genuine humility. “Thanks for being here,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth and sincerity that reflected his gratitude.

“Well, it’s not like I had a choice,” her playful retort was met with laughter from them both, a spontaneous moment of unity that felt strangely right.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #canes fanfic #canes fanfiction #carolina hurricanes fanfic #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #andrei svechnikov x y/n

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catnipaddictt · 23 days

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Abstract

wc: 2.1k

series masterlist ⭑ co-creator @memoiich

You had finally moved away from your hometown. A final answer to your undying search for independence. A trait your mothers whipped tongue had tried to rein back for years. Something that had very clearly failed. The thought alone made you smirk a bit as you stood before your new home. The Alderaan apartments were a choice at best. Very cheap for the location being so close to the centre of the city but a little decrepit. Still it felt like a palace to you right now.

You made your way up to the 4th floor, the highest of the crumbling building. Leaving you to look out to the curtains of the slightly nicer hotel on the other side of the street. Grabbing your suitcase, you unpacked your luggage before coming to the realisation that you had no food in your new home. And of course it just had to be dark outside, evening having set. After overthinking your options you decided to ask your neighbour for some eggs. Dragging yourself to your neighbour’s door with your metaphorical tail between your legs, you knocked on the door.

A strange being poked its face through the slightest gap possible, it looked around worried. You didn’t know if it was to look for trouble or to find it. After the anxiety-writing look, the creature opened the creaking door. Now that you could see it, It was clearly a Gungan.

“Hello. Missa Jar Jar Binks. Why are you at misssas door?“ he questions “Hey, I'm your new neighbour. I was wondering if I could borrow some eggs?“ You say, a bit unsure of the Gungan in front of you. “Missa loves eggs. Sun sun or scrambled, lovely for my tumtum” jar jar snickers at the end. ”So… Can I use the eggs? You question once again. “Missa doesn’t have any eggs for sunsun but missa could go to the store for stuff and stuff.” Not only did you think of going to the store before you were now massively disappointed and also extremely tired. The less effort option was clearly the wrong one.

“No it's fine I will go myself thank you anyways.” Before finishing Jar Jar was already speaking, “It's not a big dealio, you newbie don't know the way like missa does.” Before you could protest against this clearly exhausting task, he was already out of the door and started walking towards the staircase. Not wanting to be rude, you followed. It took 17 minutes longer than normal to get to the store because Jar Jar wanted to ‘cut a cornerio’. Once at the store Jar Jar started to argue after eating a RAW egg “As a tasty jum jum” Only after 36 min of arguing and you finally offering to just buy the dozen did you start to make your way back home which also took a small hour.

You could finally bid Jar Jar goodnight. You got home just to cook the damn eggs ‘sun-sun’ style and went to bed in the early morning, you already knew this new life was going to be hard at first.

Waking up had never been so hard before, but the alarm was ringing and today was an important one. It was your first day at your new job at the paper company, ‘Paper Force’. Paper Force was located pretty far away, you would have to drive past the mustafar part of the city, making it a long trip for a very tired driver. Prepping for work wasn't the worst as you had laid out your work outfit the night before.

You got in your beat-up 2002 beetle and started the 50 minute commute. At the 20 minute point your car started to rumble, not just a soft snore, no, a rumble. 10 minutes later and you were stuck by the side of the road. You search an auto shop on your hologram immediately. The only car mechanic that wasn't 2 hours away was a place called ‘MustaCar’. Having no time to waste, you called the number.

45 long minutes later an old pickup truck pulls up behind your still-not-starting beetle. By this point you were frankly very annoyed. You were already half an hour late to your new job, and it didn't seem like you were going to get there soon. And to make things worse, you slept bad last night, meaning you were now rather sleep deprived.

The door to the pickup truck swings open with a clunk, clearly well used. A man in his early to mid 20’s steps out of the vehicle, he reaches up and moves his dark-blond curls out of his field of vision. He wears an oil-stained long sleeved button up, of which you cannot tell the original colour, as well as a pair of dirtied jeans. He spots you, puts his hands in his pockets and stalks over, clearly in no hurry.

“I was just thinking you weren't going to bother showing up” you snapped at him harshly. “Well, sorry Miss, the rest of the world doesn’t revolve around you” You let out a sharp breath at his words. “Excuse me, just look at my car and do your job”. You were fed up with this day already and now you had to deal with a know-it-all, stuck-up, man-child of a mechanic. “Parents didn’t teach you manners I see, now what seems to be the matter here? So I can do my job” He walks towards your car, popping the lid. You roll your eyes at him before speaking. “Well she won't go” He rolls up his sleeves, “Figured that much” he states. Your brows furrow in annoyance, you don’t have time for his attitude, “something started making noise and now she doesn't want to run.” He leans forward to observe your car’s engine. “She, huh, does the lovely lady have a name as well?” You can hear his smirk through his words. Your ears turn red “Shelby, the car is called Shelby”. The mechanic lets out a harsh laugh as he turns to something unknown “An old lady I suppose then, with a name like that”. You let out a huff and turn away.

“Dead Battery and the terminals are corroding”. You jump slightly, having zoned out. “Sorry?” you question. “You have a dead battery and its terminals are also corroding. Oh and you have a break problem, that's what the noise was”. You stand there a bit perplexed, “Uh what does that mean?”. “It means you aren’t gonna be able to drive Shelby until you get her fixed”. He says the name of your car amusingly. “So can you do it then?” You ask, checking your hologram for the time, you were almost an hour late already. “Well that's my job isn’t it?” He raises an eyebrow. You sigh, clearly this guy thought highly of himself. “How much and how long?” you demand, patient wearing thin at this point. “Well the battery change is gonna be about 150, plus the corrosion, about 20, and the grinding breaks, another 150 credits” he pauses before speaking again, “it’ll take a bit, have to order in the parts, could take a while, a few weeks”. “A few weeks!” you all but shout.

You pace away, trying to think. You were very very late, had little to no sleep, and now your beloved car wasn’t going, plus you might have to wait weeks to get her back running. “Fine, do what you must” you bark out. Hopefully this man could fix Shelby quickly, and you would never have to deal with him or another car problem ever again. “Need anything out of her? Or are you good?” He asks. You walk over to Shelby, grab your bag, morning caffeine fix, and sweater. You shut the door gently. The guy speaks, walking back over to the pickup truck “Okay then, I’ll take her into the shop and she’ll be good as new soon. Oh and I will probably need some contact details, unless you never want to see your car again” He walks back carrying a piece of blue-ish paper and a pen with the ‘MustaCar’ logo on the side, passing both to you. You write down your information and hand it back to his expecting hand. “You should come by the shop, I’m sure the guys would love that” And with a smirk and a wink, he turns, secures Shelby, and gets back into the pickup. You watch as he drives off with your prized possession, your Shelby, If he ruins her, he will have hell to pay. You had now been walking for 30 minutes, with your workplace still another 20 minutes away. Your hair sticks to your forehead with sweat and your feet are starting to ache. The music playing in your ears is a nice distraction from your situation as you stroll at pace. Finally after what feels like a millennium, you reach the building. The large blue letters spell ‘Paper Force’, meaning you haven’t gotten lost along the way. Making your way to the building, you check your reflection in a window, fix your hair, and give yourself a mental pep talk. Just go in, explain what happened, it will all be fine. At least you hope. With a deep breath and step inside.

Pulling up the shop with a rumble, the pickup-truck deposits his newest client's female car around the back. The fading MustaCar sign blinks slowly at him as he gets out the parked truck and steps foot on solid ground. The beetle named Shelby looks out of place among the beat up vehicles, and forgotten projects of the shop. “Anakin” A female voice yells from inside the garage before a young togruta steps out. She wears overalls and a pair of safety goggles on her head. “New project Snips” He says. “What's wrong with it? It looks pretty good to me” the togruta states as she walks over and runs a hand over the bonnet. “Battery is dead, corrosion, and breaks need new pads” Anakin explains, counting off each problem on his fingers. “We are gonna need to order stuff in for her”. The togruta laughs “Her?” she questions. Anakin sighs “Yes, Ahsoka, Her. Owner calls it Shelby". “Cute” Ahsoka shrugs “lets see what we can do”.

“Well the brake pads are definitely going to have to be replaced, there is basically nothing there” Ahsoka looks up as she speaks. “Thought as much, '' replies Anakin, as he wanders over with two cups of coffee, he passes one to Ahsoka. “Thanks”. “I placed an order for the new battery and brake pads, should take a week to arrive, but knowing the shipping times, it will probably take longer than that” Anakin says as he surveys Shelby. “At least she isn’t a complete wreck”. Ahsoka nods behind Anakin “speaking of wrecks, how is that project coming along ''. Anakin turns to look at the car sitting under a large tree. He had picked up the third generation Pontiac firebird from a man on his deathbed; it had been living in a barn for 20 years, rusted, and in desperate need of restoration. If it even could be saved. “It's a work in progress Snips”, “I don’t know, it is rusted pretty bad in some of it, it will take a genius to make it run again”, “Good thing i’m here then” He replies with a smile. Ahsoka rolls her eyes and drains the last of her drink before returning to their newest project.

A voice pulls Anakin out of his work “Anakin, I need to speak to you”. The voice comes from an elderly man, Palpatine, the creator and owner of MustaCar. “Of course” Anakin wipes the oil off his hands on a nearby cloth, before throwing it back on the table and following Palpatine. They enter the main office of the shop and Palpatine closes the door behind them. “Sith Auto Dominion is growing. At this rate we will be losing profit by the same time next month” Palpatine states. Sith Auto Dominion was the biggest competition for MustaCar, located on the other side of town on Geonosis Blvd. Over time the opposing shop had been taking their customers, meaning Palpatine and the people he employ have been having to cut costs however they can. “What can we do?” Anakin questions. “Not much my boy, we just have to be careful. I have owned this shop for 45 years and I will not see it go bankrupt” he takes a breath “You are my best mechanic Anakin, I cannot afford to lose you”. Palpatine walks around to his desk and sits down, gesturing at the seat opposite him. “I have a favour to ask you, Anakin”. “Anything” He replies. “Take your apprentice, go to Sith Auto, find out what they have that we don’t”

“Alright Snips, we have a job”

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arteastica · 9 months

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early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (6)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.3k

Hindsight always makes it simple to distinguish between what should’ve been done and what shouldn’t. But nobody is able to predict the end result. Not even someone like Erwin Smith. You thought as you poured boiling water into a porcelain cup. The lives of hundreds of his soldiers or the lives of thousands within the walls. The commander had made his choice.

He had, but you were sure it didn’t make it any easier. After all, he had led hundreds of his men to their deaths. Not only in last week’s expedition, but also in the ones that came before, and the ones that were yet to come. It was, most certainly, something one never got used to.

You walked the empty halls. The sound of porcelain on metal, the only disturbance in the quiet castle at that time of the night. It was way past working hours, and despite the absolute stillness, you were certain nobody was asleep. Everyone who made it back, really didn’t come back. At least not as the person they were before. It was as if an unretrievable part of themselves was still out there, beyond the walls, waiting to be collected.

And you were no different. But you were trying to learn to live without it. During the day, you tried to keep busy with work, and at night, you tried to do the same by writing, but every time you sat down, nothing came out. It was like trying to turn on a very tight faucet, frustrating and exhausting. So you usually ended up tossing and turning in bed until your eyelids got heavy enough. But on some nights, not even that seemed to work. And this was one of those.

You glanced behind your back before going up the stairs, and found the comfort you were looking for when you were able to confirm that the only one following you was your shadow.

Who was inside the female titan? Whoever that was, they managed to escape. Not only that, but someone who’s working with such person is among us.

You picked up the pace and turned around a corner, most of your tensions dissipating when you saw light seeping through the gaps of the door.

He suspects that. The commander had a reason not to trust anyone. He knows that someone in the Survey Corps can’t be trusted. That’s the reason why only the survivors from 5 years ago were informed of the plan. He must have assumed the enemy infiltrated when the wall fell back then.

You used your right shoulder to push the door open. And just like you had predicted, you found him at his desk, working under the candle light. He didn’t even notice you were there.

Besides the dark circles under his eyes and the two-day-old stubble now covering his jaw, there was something different in him. But it wasn’t new, something told you it had always been there. But you were noticing it just now.

Before the expedition, you only knew the caring leader, the one who encouraged his subordinates to share their ideas, reassured them when they made a mistake, or smiled when they brought him tea. After the expedition, you met the other. The one who ordered them to stay behind and fight, to give up on their dreams and dedicate their hearts. The calculating leader who decides what lives are sacrificed and which ones are preserved.

You stood still for a moment, watching him. Even though his right hand seemed busy, his eyes didn’t. They were unfocused and seemed to be lost some place far away, probably beyond the walls.

It must have taken him so much to become the leader that he is. So many others trying to become an inch of the man that he is, yet no one doing what he does. Not a single one of those silver spoon leaders from Mitras, not a single one of them willing or capable to make the decision he had.

They weren’t like him. They ordered around from the safety of their castles. But they weren’t there to face the consequences when they came knocking at their door. But Erwin Smith, he never expected more of his soldiers than he gave of himself. And he expected the world from his soldiers. He took so much from them but what he gave in return was hard to put into words.

So no, they weren’t like him. They weren’t capable of going through the things he and his people had. And you were one of his people now. After all, it was thanks to him that you were there now, placing a tray on the corner of his desk.

The sound made him look up and when he saw you, he tried to hold a smile, but it was so weak it expired pretty soon. And in that exact moment a hornet must have come flying in and stung you right in the center of your chest.

“You didn’t have to. You should be getting some rest.”

“My wounds have already healed.” You smiled softly. His eyes were vacant, and his usually impeccable bolo tie, loosely done. And you resisted the urge to ask him how much sleep he had been getting lately, if any at all. “Commander, I’ll take care of that tomorrow.” You pointed at the expedition reports in his hands “I’ll finish them and send them to the capital by noon.”

“It’s okay. This is somewhat of a routine for me after expeditions. It helps you notice things you didn’t before.”

It had been unsettling enough for you to record the casualties and write letters to the relatives of the deceased. Writing about the injured had been even more disturbing, maybe because you knew that they would be left to deal with the permanent scars for the rest of their lives, both emotionally and physically. If the gruesome details of their condition still haunted you, you couldn’t imagine what it must be doing to those soldiers, or to the man who was in charge of them. You were certain that for him, those reports were downright traumatizing.

“Resting also helps. This will help you sleep better.” You promised before placing a warm cup beside his papers.

“Thank you.” He said, bringing it to his lips “It’s wonderful.” He took another sip, and a slight smile formed on your lips. If only that could help him close his eyes and escape this nightmare of a world for a moment. Even if it was just until the morning. “I’ll just work a little more.”

You nodded, feeling a little defeated. “If there is anything I can help you with, please let me know.”

“It’s okay. You may go.” He attempted another smile before turning his attention back to the papers.

You started heading for the door, but the sting in your chest kept hurting. Hurting, burning and begging you to tell him.

To tell him that you understood why he did what he did.

“Commander, back then-”

And that you were aware of the crushing burden he was carrying as a result.

“you did everything you could.”

And how much it meant for you, what he did for you.

“You are the reason I-”

You remembered how it had felt to be held by him. The warmth of his embrace and the comfort of his body. And something about that memory made your heart fall out of rhythm.

“What I mean is, you made your decision and regardless of whatever happened, Eren is still here today. We didn’t lose him. I could tell you were prepared to abandon everything.”

“Yes. But so was the enemy.” He said, his stare getting lost somewhere in the opposite side of the room.

In the days that followed, the dining hall slowly started to recover its characteristic liveliness, although the disharmonious and usually ale-induced singing wasn’t back yet; people had started conversing and laughing in the corridors again; and the hallways had stopped looking so empty and eerie at night, something you were particularly grateful about.

The tossing and turning had also become less and less frequent, and you had been able to get back into writing. Not only diary entries, but also letters home. Your mom wanted to know if there was any chance she would get to see you before the winter holidays, and Hitch, if there were any attractive men in the Scouts. Of course her exact wording had been a little different: Well-proportioned, beddable gentleman who is both an eye-candy and a sex-god.

The commander and his eyes had begun to recover their expressiveness, every passing day he was able to hold his smile for a little longer, his light stubble was now gone, and so were the dark circles under his eyes, although it had taken them a full two weeks to disappear completely. You knew this because you had been counting. Not in the literal sense, but mentions of him during your late night writing sessions had become more and more frequent. Until one day, you had no choice but to acknowledge a certain tendency you had developed.

A tendency to look in his direction at every opportunity you got. And by opportunity, you meant every time you could steal a glance without him noticing. And you were aware that without context, that would even sound inappropriate. But it was not. ‘There are reasons.’ You had told your diary.

There was a reason you had started bringing him dinner every time you found his seat at the dining hall empty. There was a reason you had started adding honey and a lemon slice to his tea when brewing it, and placing warm butter biscuits on the side. There was a reason you had started bringing up your weird obsession with Stohess figs every time his expression seemed to get a little too vacant for your liking. And, of course, there was also a reason you had started coming up with pretexts to stay in his office way after your shift ended.

Before, you looked at him to confirm you were doing your job properly, now you just wanted to confirm he was doing okay. And did it all risk looking a little more personal than work-related? In all honesty, maybe it did. Because it actually was personal. After all, he was a person, not only your boss. And it was thanks to that person that you were still alive.

“The government officials are waiting for you in the meeting room, sir.” You informed him that morning.

“Okay. Better not make them wait any longer if we are hoping to secure those funds.” He grabbed some papers along with his black notebook and headed for the door. But when you saw it, you shook your head lightly. There was something he still seemed to be struggling with after the expedition.

“Commander” You called out just as he was about to open the door.

“Yes?”

“Your tie.” He blinked at you, his eyes clearly asking you to elaborate further. “It’s just- your- let me.” It was when you saw your fingers fiddling with the green oval in the collar of his shirt that you realized how compromising of a position you had put yourself in. And you also realized how much you liked his perfume. You liked it a lot actually.

“It was a little tilted to the side.” You explained, your eyes now looking up to find his.

“Thank you.” He said softly while staring back into your eyes, and you wondered if his voice had always sounded that deep.

You wished you had an explanation as to why you didn’t step away once you were done fixing his tie, or a justification for your sudden inability to look away.

“I’ve been wanting to-” When you started talking, his eyes drifted to your lips for a brief second, and suddenly it became too hard to express your thoughts. “I’ve been wanting to tell you-”

Shameful. Both, the way you suddenly forgot how to speak and the way your heart started racing.

“Yes?” You would have found his patience encouraging if he hadn’t spoken in such a low, husky voice, if his eyes weren’t all those colors, and if he didn’t smell that good.

“Thank you” Sometime in between all the things happening inside your head, your voice had turned into a whisper, “for helping me” and apparently, you had lost your ability to string words together “back then.”

“I told you I wasn’t losing my assistant to a titan.” He said, the corners of his mouth slightly curving upwards. And you wished his lips weren’t so distracting. And that they weren’t that close. You realized you had never seen them from such proximity.

“Commander, we shouldn’t…” Your chest rose and fell in clumsy attempts to manage what little air was available in the room, oxygen all of a sudden becoming the most precious resource in the world. “…We shouldn’t make them wait.”

“We shouldn’t, indeed.” He said, eyes still boring into yours. “That would be inappropriate.”

“Very inappropriate.” You managed to say before forcing yourself to look away and head for the door, mostly because you desperately needed to breathe, and not so much because you cared about the men in the other room.

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat

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thgfanfictionlibrary · 3 months

Note

do you or anyone have sponsormusings old fics? i’m dying to read them but i know they’re all deleted so this is my attempt of seeing is someone has them downloaded and could share it with me?

thanks you

Hello Anon!

I do not have any of sponsormusings old fics! If any follower does have them feel free to reply to this post or shoot an ask to let me know!

You can see the works through the WayBackMachine, though some are unable to be read or clicked on but here's what I could recover through the wayback machine:

AO3:

Dashboard as of May 12th, 2017

Trying To Get It Right

A Long Way From Home

Drifting Between Grey and Blue (Ch 1 Only)

Headlines

Contract Clause Series Dashboard

Social Standing Series Dashboard

Social Standing (entire work)

Holly

Twisted Ribbons

Three Words

The Volunteer

Pumping and Blowing

Maybe This Was It

Portrait of a Victor (Ch 1)

The Winter Season

Get The Girl

FF.net:

Dashboard as of May 24th, 2013 and in May 2022

Alive

A Parting Gift

In Your Darkest Hours

The Volunteer

Three Words

To Serve and Protect

Umbrella

Double Knots

Hidden Meanings

7 Seconds

Narrowly Avoided Misadventures

Headlines

The Family Business

The Shimmering Glass Ch 1 Ch 4

Stacked Odds Ch 1 Ch 17

A Hard Answer to Question Ch 1 Ch 14

Drifting Between Grey and Blue Ch 20 Ch 19 Ch 18 Ch 17 Ch 16 Ch 15 Ch 14 Ch 13 Ch 12 Ch 11 Ch 10 Ch 9 Ch 8 Ch 7 Ch 6 Ch 5 Ch 4 Ch 3 Ch 2 Ch 1

The Deepest Blues are Black

Contract Clause Ch 1

Portrait of a Victor Ch 1 Ch 30

Best Behaviour

Hide and Seek

This Friday Night

Stuck in a Moment

First Time for Everything

One Last Chance

The Winter Season

Made of Stars

1 year, 6 months, 2 weeks Ch 1 Ch 2

Get The Girl

Easy K

Another Time, Another Place

Hope this helps! I didn't list all the ones available via FF.net so if you click on the 2022 link you should be able to use the hyperlinks through there to see if a screenshot was saved!

As a note: this blog does not link to reposted fics that are not reposted via the author (or given consent by the author), if a work was deleted off a platform, the only way we will link to it is through the wayback machine or via another platform that the author allowed or maintained.

Happy reading!

#anon ask #thg fanfiction #everlark fanfiction #admin:e #sponsormusings

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donnerpartyofone · 5 months

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Twelve years ago today, I had my first date with my husband, who I met on okcupid. It's weird to think about okcupid, it's like the last ambiguously wholesome thing before it felt like all the dating apps divided into sex apps and paid subscription apps like eHarmony that are specifically designed for people who are looking to get married and breed immediately. I got on okcupid about a year after I was finally done with my abusive ex-boyfriend; I always used to think I needed to be with someone as Dark and Fucked UpTM as myself because I hadn't had good luck being understood more normal people, but after living a nightmare for several years, I finally woke up one day thinking, What would it be like to date someone who actually, obviously liked me and was happy to see me? I started to imagine it, and just that made a big difference. One day I opened okcupid and it served me this guy who was way too attractive for me, and who also just seemed really nice and normal. I thought, I don't have anything to offer someone like that, and moved on. However, okcupid showed the guy that I had looked at him, and even though I had taken no action, he reached out. I was still feeling pretty skittish and made him be my pen pal for a pretty long time. Then one day the stranger who stalked me for several years at my old job somehow found my blog; I couldn't figure out how, and it really scared me, and I just dropped all communications with uncertain men in a fit of despair. A while later, like maybe a month or something, my okcupid suitor wrote me a very polite email to tell me that he understands what it usually means when somebody ghosts you online, but he just wants to say that if I ever want to get a cup of coffee or something, he's still interested. I gave in and ordered him to meet me at 2pm on a Sunday, thinking that if we hated each other it could be over in like half an hour. The date lasted about 10 hours, and in reality it never stopped.

Five years ago today, we got married. We liked the idea of getting married on the anniversary of our first date, even though it meant dragging the 20 people who had the least ability to say "no" to a Tuesday wedding. We did it at City Hall, which was really awesome; every kind of person was there, in every kind of dress, all having our big day together. Afterward we put everyone on the ferry to the neighborhood where our reception was, which had become a center of our lives well beforehand. We live there now, as of this autumn. But let me tell you, a ferry ride on a winter night is a great way to see the city, definitely do this if you get the chance.

We've had a really good marriage so far, a big part of which is that we're actually friends. I think a lot of straight people are indoctrinated with ideas about the War of the Sexes, like men and women are natural enemies, it's not normal to be buddies with the opposite sex, and marriage represents an uneasy alliance between arch foes to fulfill the prime directive of the species. It's scary what a common cliche it is, that people in relationships hate each other, that marriage is miserable and a breeding ground for seething hatred, ha ha ha, "This is fine." It really doesn't have to be like that, unless you insist on dogmatically disrespecting people with different genitals from you. And also mutual respect shouldn't be a barrier to hot sex.

Anyway, we're getting ready to go out and see NAPOLEAN, after which we'll go to our favorite restaurant, and then I'll probably force my husband to watch my new favorite movie RED ROOMS to balance out the psycho boy movie with a psycho girl movie. After that, it's none of your beeswax.

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vernalseason · 2 years

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Here's why I'm so goddamn feral about The Bear.

I ran an ice cream store for about five years. No, it wasn’t fine dining, it wasn’t even a restaurant, but it was still food service. We were in a vacation town, and our place was the only ice cream store in the area, and the ice cream was GOOD. Customers used to ask me all the time if I got sick of eating it and I’d say no, and I meant it. It was reasonably fancy as ice cream goes, with some pretty out-there flavors, but mostly it was just GOOD. Super flavorful, dense but not chewy the way that some ice creams get where it feels like it’s stretching unnaturally when you pull your spoon away…

Point is, it was an ice cream shop in a tourist town, and in the summer we got killed during service every single night. Nonstop lines from 7 til 12 or 1 in the morning, no breaks. We got after-dinner crowds, after-show crowds, hordes of camp kids a busload at a time, and it might not have been fine dining but we worked HARD. We had 8, 9, 10 people on peak days all scooping, cleaning, making milkshakes (which is The Worst, in case you were curious), restocking by running down rickety definitely-not-to-code stairs to our tiny walk-in and hauling ice cream up 4 boxes at a time—because goddamn it, time was valuable and running up and down the stairs sucked and no one was going to go down multiple times when you could just grab 4 at a time and grit your teeth and shove them onto the counter upstairs feeling like you’d just benched your own body weight.

At the start of the summer, Memorial Day weekend, we were at our absolute peak. Following a truly herculean hiring effort aided by the promise of unlimited free ice cream, we had a crew of 20-odd overcaffeinated teenagers and twentysomethings who were working a truly awe-inspiring pace to kill the line. My favorite moments were, variously:

Being so busy I had to run two registers simultaneously, waiting for Square to process a transaction on one (chip card readers were murderously slow in the early days) while taking cash on the other;

Absolutely shattering every store record on a Saturday night with a skeleton crew and getting approval to order 12AM pizza on the company card, and taking a long, long hour to eat before we finally had to get around to scrubbing the calcified ice cream off the floors;

Gearing up to call for a restock on spoons, napkins, and other such necessities only to find that my assistant manager was behind me with a milk crate of those very things;

And so on.

There was about a month and a half of beautiful, well-staffed, smooth-running time before things frayed at the edges. Suddenly the factory couldn't get enough ingredients, since the company was chronically broke (turns out wholesale ice cream is a bad idea, folks; retail is where it's at), or the store walk-in broke down and we had to resort to chest freezers for storage for a month, or, most commonly, we started losing staff. I was always after the owner of the company to hire more year-round full-time staff, but there was always something more urgent for him to spend money on, like rent. So inevitably our staff would start leaving for college, and we'd be left with about half to a third of the staff we really needed to run. Which is when things started getting bad.

There are only so many doubles you can work before you start losing your grip on reality. I recall one day in August when I was somehow, improbably, the only person available to fill an entire day of shifts, and worked from 9AM pre-open to 11PM at night. The only thing that I remember is that the tips were phenomenal. But by Labor Day weekend we were down to our last seasonal staff and the entire core crew had worked at least two doubles that week and we limped into the off season with about two remaining brain cells between us.

Anyway. This post was supposed to be about The Bear.

I've never seen a show—or at least, never seen a FICTIONAL show—that so deeply understands what it means to be in food service. I watched the first episode in absolute awe of how they captured the intensity—just GOING until you get a moment to yourself in the bathroom, in the walk-in, in the office. And when you slow down, you think about how tired you are. How burnt out. How much all you really want is just to sit, maybe eat a slice of pizza, and stare into space for an hour. But then you go back out, and you get back to work.

I've also never seen a show that so accurately captures what it looks like and feels like to be a manager. Carmy losing his temper, giving in to that righteous anger in 'Review'—how DARE you not cover your station, how DARE you leave me with this mess that you created—I've been there. I'm not proud of it. I didn't punch a ticket printer, or scream in anyone's face, but I lost my cool, and that sticks with me. You don't get to take it back. You apologize (even if you were right), you patch things up, but no one ever really forgets.

But the show also does justice to one of the great joys of the service industry: getting to see people improve. One of my favorite subplots is Tina going from sabotaging Sydney to respecting her, trusting her, defending her. But mostly, it's my favorite because we see her get BETTER. She goes from just holding down her station to being a pro, from throwing things together to being careful, and thoughtful, and focused. And that moment when Tina says 'thank you, chef', and means it, really MEANS it, that's the kind of thing that gets me all teary. Because it's so much more than just 'thank you', but you'd have spend a hell of a lot longer to get it all out.

I guess if I was going to trace my rabid and, so far undiminished love of the show to a single thing, it would be the fact that it makes me feel seen. I haven't done that much reading on the people who made the show, but enough of them clearly lived this life or got close enough to it that they understand what it does to people, and what it requires of them. I loved working in food service, and sometimes I even miss it. I loved getting to make people's days, to give kids their first-ever ice cream, to feel like people were leaving in a better mood than they came in. And I met my partners through this life, all three of them, which is as exactly as wild and improbable as it sounds. But every time I look back on it fondly, I make myself remember that it was miserable too. The late nights, the early mornings, the days off cut short by delivering emergency stock or jumping in to cover a shift or just ending back up at the shop out of habit. The crushed toes and ragged wrist tendons and hoarse throats, the constant phone calls or checking sales to try and anticipate if we needed more staff. The sensation that after service, the rest of the world was dim in comparison.

I sank so much time and energy into that life, and I think the last thing I love about The Bear, the other thing that makes me tear up a little bit, is that for them it turns out alright in the end. They work through the problems, they make things run smooth, and they get the chance to build the place they dreamed about. That was always what I wanted, what I was working toward—the chance to make things better. And even in fiction, it makes me happy to see that come true.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #jeremy allen white #ayo edebiri #retail #service #service industry #in service #my work #writing #I should talk more about this part of my life actually #and if you want to know more #just ask

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romana-after-dark · 1 month

Text

Room’s on Fire: Wildflower

NOT CANON NOT CANON NOT CANON!!!!!

This is a COMMISSION done for my dear @umnitsa based on my fic Room's on Fire. Rooms on Fire is Triple Frontier fanfiction cult au, however this does not have any TF characters in it, nor is it canon to ROF. However, things talked about are, and it is canon compliant and COULD have happened in theory.

Jonah Hanson (Timothy Olyphant) x plus size!reader x Marcus (David Habour

Timeline: In the past in ROF canon timeline, two years before the "uprising". Madonna and Iris arent in this fic but are talked about, Iris is 20 and Madonna is 10.

Summary: Jonah, Reader, and Marcus spend a weekend away.

Warnings and content: PIV sex, anal, anal fingering, m/m dynamics and sex but focus is mostly on reader. Some angst but not between characters, just their circumstances. Blowjobs, fingering, Jonah is scared of bee's tee hee. Mentions of Beatriz's sexual and physical abuse of Jonah and Frankie. General cult wanrings.

6k words

***************

"You belong among the wildflowers You belong in a boat out at sea Sail away, kill off the hours You belong somewhere you feel free Run away, find you a lover Go away somewhere all bright and new I have seen no other Who compares with you" ~Wildflower, Tom Petty

The house was ready!

You had been picking wildflowers while waiting for Jonah and Marcus to arrive, freshening up your little cabin in the woods. This was your getaway. Every few months, you, Jonah and Marcus find some time to get away and see each other for a night or two, have fun, make love, and relax. In Delta, they did their best not to be seen together. Friendship and relationships were dangerous, especially for Jonah and Marcus. Marcus was a pretty high up as a guard, just trying to get through the day without harm coming to his daughter.

Jonah was a similar but more precarious role. He was closer to the top, almost at the peak, a consort of Divine Mother, or “that bitch” as you call her. His daughter, Iris, is in the same dormitory as Marcus’s daughter, but she’s ten years older so they don’t know each other. You feel hands on your hips, startlingly you. You turn around and slap the person now in front of you.

“JONAH!” You scold him, but immediately go to touch his face. “You fucking scared me!”

“Oowwww!” He whines, pouting with his pretty lips. “You’re so mean!”

“Oh hush now.” You peck his slightly pink cheek and he smiles. You’ve seen him take way worse. “Maybe don’t scare me next time!” You wander off to set tea on the stove for Marcus, if he comes. Marcus loves tea. When his daughter was little, she loved tea parties and when Marcus was able to see her he always obliged her in pretending to be a princess with her small assortment of toys she was allowed. He grew accustomed to the taste, it always reminded him of her.

Jonah trailed after you, hips swaying before stopping and resting on one foot, leg popped out. You wanted to knock his stupid cowboy hat off his head and smother his face in kisses, but you had a few more things left to do.

You turn to your lover. “Think Marcus will make it?”

He gives you a sympathetic look. “I dunno, darl’n, he’s try’n but he’s got a lot on his plate..”

You look down stiring the soup. “I know, I know.” You all did your best. Sometimes you couldn’t make it, sometimes Jonah or Marcus couldn’t, it was natural living in a high control environment. Still, you missed them and had hoped for a weekend with both. “Here, let’s eat. I’ll keep it on a simmer in case he comes.”

After diner, you laid on the couch in Jonah’s arms, his long fingers lazily fingering you. He wasn’t necessarily trying to bring you to orgasm, although it was near inevitable with the way he made your body feel. Jonah just liked to feel you. He loved your body, and spent countless hours in these hidden moments just familiarizing himself you every curve, every inch of fat, your smooth skin, the swell of your heavy breasts, and of course, the inside of your cunt. He had a body type that was for sure. Although Jonah certainly was just a lover of love, appreciating men and women of all shapes and sizes, he did gravitate towards big. He was a small man in terms of body type, a thin frame and slutty petite hips, he loved the feeling of weight on him. You and Marcus were happy to oblige. So, sometimes you laid like this, your full body access given to Jonah, your body comforting him and his hands bringing you pleasure by the fireside.

You heard the keys in the door and gasp. “Marcus!!”

Jonah grumbles about having to pull his fingers out of your dripping hole, but you jump up and run to the day.

Marcus opens his arms to you, folding you into his strong grasp. “Hiya, baby.” he kisses your cheek, then kisses Jonah as he approaches.

Jonah kisses him back and gives a warm side hug. “We didn’t think you were gonna make it.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. Fuck he was tall, a good couple inches of Jonah. “I was doing round on the dormitory and Lydia asked if I wanted to see her for a little, and well I just stayed until I had to leave, ended up a few hours.”

If there was ever a reason to be late, it was for your men to see their daughters. Delta split up families young, sending girls to live in dormitories around 12, but Jonah and Marcus had a different position. Jonah’s wife, Jess, died giving birth to Iris and Marcus’s wife, Lana, died of cancer when their daughter they adopted was 8. Marcus’ daughter was moved to a dormitory as soon as the funeral and grieving traditions were done.

Jonah had all of 6 months with Iris before that bitch Beatriz decided it was “best” if Jonah moved into the mansion with her. She also decided it was “best” that Iris didn’t come with, seeing as she had her young son, Santiago and the boy she had adopted, francisco, there. Too many children, was her reasoning. So Iris grew up largely without a parent. Jonah tried his best to make time for Iris, but Beatriz didn’t allow much, leaving Iris and Jonah’s relationship strained.

“Oh! Jonah, this is for you.” Marcus reached into his pocket, pulling out something covered in a napkin.

Jonah unwrapped a sugar cookie, looking at it confused. “You got me a cookie?”

Marcus barked a laugh. “No, I ran into Iris with my kid. She was walking back to the common room with some cookies for her friends she made, gave one to my baby and me, then wrapped one up for you.”

You turn to Jonah, still wrapped up in one of Marcus’s arms. He had a happy, small smile on his face, looking fondly at the cookie. Iris was angry a lot, often at him, but she found these little moments, small acts that remind Jonah she does love him, very much.

“C’mon!” You pull Marcus’s hand towards the couch. “Catch us up, how is she?”

But Marcus stayed planted firm where he was. “Aht, aht, aht, you think I didn’t see what you and Jonah were doing just a minute ago.” He yanks you backwards, your back flush against his chest and an arm wrapped around your middle keeping you pressed to him. “Jonah, want you to lift up the little sluts skirt for me, will you?”

Jonah set the cookie down, not wanting to eat it just yet. He wanted to save it just a bit long, a reminder that Iris still loved him, still thought about him. Making his way back to you and Marcus, he admired your bodies and bit his lips in anticipation for whats to come before lifting up your skirt. It was long, flowy, and he slid his hands all the way up to cup your breasts in the process.

Marcus chuckles. “Always so eager, aren’t you, Jonah?” Then slides the tips of his fingers over your slick core. “Hmmm” His voice verberates against your neck. “So are you, it seems.”

You were. You were always eager for them.

These men were your reprieve, and you adored each of them for different reasons. It wasn’t like you loved them, you didn’t think you did. You couldn’t, really, not in the situation you were all in. You worked long hours as a doctor, training the next generation as you were one of the few with any medical experience before the world fell apart. Jonah and Marcus were both guard, and their first priorities were their daughters. If somehow they found a way to get them out but it meant leaving you behind, they would and you wanted them to. Their children deserved a life. That’s honestly a reason why you loved them the way you did, as dear friends, as a reprieve. Few things were more attractive than a man who cared for his children.

Marcus was a symbol of strength. Do not let the roundness of him, the soft plush of his body fool you, Marcus could lift grown men in the air, and had no problem manuvering you where he wanted you to be. In fact, he had picked you up and placed you on top of Jonah’s face just now, sinking your body down to his awaiting tongue. Jonah was eager like that. Despite having a 20 year old daughter, Jonah was quite young himself, having had Iris at 19 where as Marcus had adopted his daughter as an infant when he was 40. There was a 10 year age gap between them, but Marcus never let his age slow him down. He had more stamina than men you’d fucked with half his years.

Marcus fucked Jonah with a vigor you couldn’t believe, slamming into his ass again and again, grunting, using Jonah’s bent knees as leverage and fuck, did Jonah like it. Jonah’s tongue was something of legend, he could eat pussy for days, drowning himself in cum and slick. Maybe that’s why Beatriz latched on to him so much, that and his handsome face. And his hot fucking bod. And his beautiful cheeky smile-

“FUCK!” You scream, on the verge of cumming on Jonah’s face already, but you wanted to wait, you wanted to cum at the same time as Jonah.

“That’s right, baby” Marcus grunts as he slaps into Jonah, encouraging you. You loved when he called you baby. Pet names like were a rarity here, and when this all started they said they didn’t want to use them because they might slip and say it in the real world, but that soon went out the window. You were Jonah’s darl’n and Marcus’s baby. “Cum on his pretty face, can you do that for me? Be my pretty girl and let me watch you cum?”

You’re a panting, sweaty mess, two hands planted on Jonah firm, strong chest as you ride him. “Wanna see him cum first, please? CanI touch him?” Jonah’s cock twitched at the prospect. You honestly had no idea how he heard anything between your thighs, but he was something else.

Marcus smiled at that. “Suck his cock, baby doll.”

You return the smile, walking yourself down your lover's body to bring yourself down to his throbbing hard, neglected dick and quickly take him into your mouth. Despite the sizable length, you’ve had enough practice and it goes down fairly easily, but Marcus still slows his thrust in order to not inadvertently knock him into your mouth. Jonah’s dick was fucking beautiful, long and veining and uncut, just fucking stellar to look at. It always made you drool and you took any chance you had to suck it. You and Jonah had more opportunities to steal away. You were the family doctor, Beatriz bringing you in whenever her little brat of a child had a sniffle.

Recently, you’d been in charge of training Will in medicine, honing in his supposed “medicinal gifts” which was a loud of complete shit, but whatever. In exchange you were allowed a little more freedom, which was how you were able to take these getaways. Some days, Will would end things early, he had some pretty blonde girl he was seeing on the down low, so you liked to sneak away and find Jonah.

Jonah tasted delicious, and mixed with the musky scent of Marcus, the slap, slap, slap of their bodies together, and the way Jonah devoured your pussy between loud moans, you could hardly contain yourself. With the knew angle of you bent over, Jonah had taken the opportunity to feel up your buttcheeks, lightly smacking them just to watch and feel them jiggle. He always was an ass man. As you slobbered on his dick, letting yourself gag and drool so your saliva dripped down his balls and lubricated Marcus’s dick.

Jonah’s hands spread over your ass, and his thumb slid into your tight little hole, causing you to sigh in content and sink down further on his member.

Marcus chuckled above you. “Jonah finger fucking that gorgeous ass of yours?” You whimper in affirmative, and he laughs again, muttering- “fuck’n predictable.”

Tongue deep inside your cunt, your asshole with his finger inside and Jonah’s cock stuffing your mouth. Everything was Jonah, Jonah, Jonah… until-

Hand grip your hair, forcing you to look up at him through your lashes as you sucked another man off.

“You’re gonna look me in the eyes while I blow my load into your little boy toy.” Marcus growls, and you nod. Marcus loved eye contact. He liked being seen. Jonah liked being used.

Marcus was stunning above you, sweat beads trickling down his hair body, massive and imposing and absolutely fucking beautiful. He was commanding and powerful, the kind of man who made you wanna get your shit together. But he could also be gentle and kind. He made a good dad.

Filled to the fucking brim, you cum all over Jonah’s face and although he explodes in your mouth, never for a moment does he stop his ministrations on your body, drawing out your pleasure as he laps up your mess. Marcus does not cum quietly, but with a roar, the sounds of his orgasm echo in the rooms while you ride out the last of your climax on Jonah’s face.

Jonah always fell asleep right after sex. He didn’t get to sleep much between his duties as head of the guard and everything Beatriz needed of him. He’d been carrying so much of their world on his shoulders since he was only 19. That’s too much for someone with teen still in his name. At 39, his body ached like someone of double his years and he took sleep where he could get it. Sometimes he woke up to nightmares, but they were less when you or Marcus were in the bed. His body knew yours by the feel and felt safe. Usually, you liked to fall asleep with your arms wrapped around him to protect him from all his bad thoughts, but after Jonah was knocked out (Before Marcus even picked your exhausted body up off him.) You opted to cuddle with Marcus as long as Jonah slept peacefully.

Your bodies were naked, a little bit cold so he pulled a blanket over the three of you. It’d been an hour of just talking and laughing, trying to keep quiet to not wake your sleepy lover. Marcus talked of his daughter with a twinkle in his eyes. You’d seen them together a few times, mostly when she wasn’t feeling well and Marcus was able to take her to you. The dormitories had a lower standard of calling on a doctor, but Marcus was frequently worried. Watching your wife die of cancer can make you paranoid, so you were happy to indulge him and check on the girl. She did get sick a little more than the average child, seemed like a weaker immune system but nothing of note.

“She really likes painting. I mean, she’s always loved art but she’s really taken to painting. Good at it too.”

Delta required lots of hard work to keep running, to keep its people fed, there wasn’t a whole lot of down time. His daughter at only 10 was taking on chores and work already. Still, members were encouraged in a hobby, Decon Davis thought it was important to have an outlet. Marcus’s daughter was showing promise, and although there weren’t careers in art and she’d still have to do manual labor, it was good to know she had something creative to look forward to.

“What does she like to paint?”

“Nature, mostly. Pretty things. I mean, she’s ten.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad that despite everything, she’s happy. She says she likes to paint her dreams, so… yuh know, it’s nice to see she dreams of sunshine and flowers. She’s been learning portraits but uh…” Marcus laughs again, and you bounce with his belly. “It’s not so good yet. She’s do great! I’m sure! Just right now they look kinda funny.”

You could imagine. You loved hearing them talk about their kids, but Marcus was more open than Jonah. Honestly, you knew Iris better than Jonah sometimes. Iris had been picked for her leadership abilities and was being brought up for a future role as a house mother. Some thought it was because her dad was “sleeping with” The Divine Mother, and that may have had a part in it. Jonah was not above using his position to get his daughter out of physical danger and back breaking work, but honestly she had a natural skill. You’d worked with her on the medical portions, teaching her first aid and far beyond and she picked it out quickly. She was very intelligent, strong willed but not arrogant or prideful, and despite a tough exterior she cared deeply for people. She’d be good as a house mother, making this life bearable for the children of a cult.

“C’mere.” Marcus mutters, pulling you up on top of his belly and only then do you notice he’s half-hard again. You grind yourself down on him, feeling him harden because of you, and kiss him.

“My handsome man…” You mutter, prodding at his mouth with your tongue and he does not hesitate to let you in. He’s fucking delicious, tasting of cookies and cigars even after all the time.

Marcus notches himself at your entrance. “You want it hard, or slow?” He’s asking for permission. No one’d been inside you yet except for Jonah’s fingers a few hours ago, and Jonah was more on the long side than he was thick. Marcus didn’t want to hurt you in any way you didn’t like but both you sometimes enjoyed the burn of him tearing you up. It was up to you.

“Hard”

Marcus kissed you, encasing your mouth in his to swallow your screams as he thrust into you, splitting you open on his fat cock. You were wet, he slid in easy and filled you up to the fucking brim. Jonah’s cock was longer but Marcus’s was fatter, stretching you out so fully for a moment you’re blinded, his dick resting deep inside you. He can feel you pulsing, your sweet, tight little hole just sucking him right up. He begins to thrust slowly, lazily, enjoying how your cries settled into whimpers. Fuck, he loved being inside you. He respite, his safe haven. With you and Jonah, here in the cabin, he could relax.

It wasn’t always enough, sometimes he couldn’t shake worry for him daughter, the sweet little girl he was supposed to protect. How could he protect her when she wasn’t even allowed to live with him? That’s why he liked Jonah. Jonah got it, he understood the position this cult put fathers and mothers in. Keep their children locked away, they’ll never leave. Jonah and Marcus would never leave without their girls. There’d be no point in life without them.

But days like today, he could forget. Not forget her, never. She was always there, lingering… but he could have some peace. He could come here, fuck Jonah and their woman, make sweet, sweet love and have some reprieve from the vile world they lived in.

Marcus pulls back from her, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth gently. “Gotta be quite. Can’t have you waking Jonah up.” He teases you with a particularly deep thrust, hitting that spot inside you he knew made you scream.

“Well maybe if you -oh fuck!- didn’t have such a fat cock I could -shitshitshit- keep QUIET! Ah!”

Marcus slapped a hand over your mouth, glancing to where Jonah slept. He still seemed peaceful. He turned back to you. “You’re gonna cum, and you’re gonna cum quietly or else I’ll have to punish you.”

As enticing as that was, you wanted Jonah to sleep, so you tucked your face into Marcus’s plush shoulder, ready to bit if needed. He pulled out of you slow, then thrust back in hard and quick, repeating this process over and over until your pussy clenches down on his hard, pulsing and cumming and soaking him and you muffle your cries into his skin.

“Off.”

You slid off him, and as he reaches to jerk himself off, you bring your mouth to him. Marcus cums inside your mouth, thick ropes you wished you could feel inside your cunt. Tasting him was second best.

As you settle at his side again, ready to take a nap, you hear Jonah.

“Jesus Christ you guys are loud.”

You were outside picking flowers with Jonah while Marcus cooked breakfast. Well, closer to lunch honestly. The three of you had spent all evening, night, and morning waking up, fucking one or both of each other, then going back to sleep. It was messy, waking up in sweats and haze and heat, sometimes entangled in bodies, sometimes lips were on your cunt or Jonah’s eyes flickered awake with your hand wrapped around him. You all were very aware of each others boundaries and dislikes, so no one had an issues getting a head start on things while one was a sleep. It wasn’t unheard of to wake up cumming.

The sun was bright out and the wildflowers in perfect peak, bumble bees dancing around you. You had told Jonah to stay still, watching a bee hover around him. It landed on his cheek, making him freak out and scream a little. When Marcus rushed out to see what the screaming was, he found Jonah waving his arms around shouting and you on the grass giggling. Marcus threw a spatula at him.

Tomorrow, you all headed back, and Jonah wanted to stop by and see Iris. He’d have to leave a little earlier than you and Marcus, but that was okay. Jonah picked flowers to bring to her. He wanted more than anything to grow Iris’s for her, but he had to prioritize trades for useful plants and seeds. One day he’d find them, one day a tradesman would happen to have the flower’s seeds and he’d learn how to grow them for her. For now, however, he’d bring her wildflowers. Depending on her mood, she may not want to see him, but if she sent Marcus with a cookie (which was fantastic, by the way) he’d try to bring her something nice. Jonah had used his position to leverage things for Iris on occasion, but usually to other people. He liked to make Beatriz think Iris didn’t matter to him, that Beatriz was the most important thing in his life. He wanted her to think that Santiago and Francisco were what he considered his children, that his own daughter was an afterthought. Nothing could be further from the truth, but it was safer for her that way.

“Jonah look! Daffodils!” You call him over. Daffodils were harder to find, not wild flowers but not necessarily rare. Still, not something Iris would likely find on Delta grounds. She loved daffodils.

Marcus’s cock always stretched your mouth so fucking wide, you knew you looked rediculos trying to take it all, but Marcus liked how messy you looked. On you hands and knees you suck him off, Jonah railing you from behind, smacking your ass again and again, but never hard enough for discomfort. Just a little reminder to leave you for tomorrow of who you belonged to.

Jonah loved you face down, ass up like this. “Fucking love your ass, darl’n” Jonah grunts, squeezing the fatty flesh, making you hum around Marcus’s throbbing, red dick.

Marcus huffs. “Yeah, I think she can tell. You’ve had your mouth up in there half the weekend.”

“Not my fault she tastes so damn good.” He shrugs.

Your jaw a little achy, you pull off Marcus and stroke him, breathless. “You guys really can’t stop talking, can you?”

“Nope. Now, take a break and suck his balls, beautiful, doing so good.”

Keening at the praise, you do as you’re told and go down to his balls. They are too big to fit both inside at once, so you focus on one and then the other, all while stroking his thick length. Jonah was hitting deep, making you whimper and gasp as he hit that spot. A strangled moan escapes your lips when he gets closer to his release, kissing your womb and god, you couldn't wait for him to flood your insides. With Jonah, there was no worry of pregnancy, so you could get completely filled by him.

“Messy, messy girl…” Marcus praises, running his fingers through your hair, careful not to pull at any knots.

“She’s about ready to cum again, can you believe it Marc? She’s so fuck’n easy.”

You go back to swallowing Marcus’s cock.

“Just a pathetic little thing, isn’t she? Gotta have her holes filled all the time. Gotta take care of everything out there, so she needs to be taken care of here.”

Jonah tsks. “Well, guess we’ll just have to take care of her, huh? Think we can -ohfuckimgonnacum- think we can do that?”

“Oh yeah, we can do that. Jonah, I want you to fill her up, okay? Then I think you should clean her up. It’s only right.”

“Oh yeah, it’s only right. Fuck, cumming right inside you, darl’n you feel that? You feel me in your womb?”

You did, oh god you did. He was hot inside you, whimpering noises as he came, the pride at bringing him such pleasure making your heart sore. He deserved to feel good. But Jonah was not one to leave you wanting.

Pulling out, he helps angle you down without choking on dick, more on your stomach while you sucked of his comrade. Jonah then gets on sniper position, licking his dripping cum out of you. His tongue wonders, getting anywhere from your clit to plunging into your asshole, leaving his face a wet slobbering mess as you came on him three times before Marcus filled your mouth.

“Don’t swallow yet.” Marcus orders. “Give Jonah a kiss.”

And you did. You kissed until Marcus’s cum from your mouth mixed with yours and Jonah’s cum from his mouth, until the three of you were one.

It was the late evening, Marcus added one more log into the fire, then settled back on the couch next to Jonah, both you and him laying on the younger man’s shoulders.

“This is nice.” You tell them, snuggling up to Jonah. Marcus’s arm wrapped around the back of the couch behind Jonah to scratch your head as you relaxed. It was so warm, you felt so safe… everything was so… good.

When you fell asleep on Jonah’s shoulder, the men let you rest for a while, getting your sleep before nudging you awake. “C’mon, darl’n let's get you to bed.”

You wrap an arm around both men and they help guide your exhausted body to bed, settling in on either side of you.

“Need you…” you muttered to them as Jonah kissed you goodnight, and he chuckled.

“Need me that bad can’t wait until morn’n?”

You shake your head sleepily. “Need a goodnight orgasm.” Which made him chuckle.

“Marcus, wanna take care of our girl while I kiss her pretty little mouth.”

Marcus was happy to oblige. He slide off your pj pants, exposing your wet and needy little pussy to him, sliding his rough fingers up and down the slick folds. You whimper, need rising in your body just Jonah kisses your unspoken words away. “Hush now, go to sleep. Trust us, we’ll take care of you… always will. Now close your eyes.” Marcus slides a fat finger inside you, and you sigh, closing your eyes and relaxing.

“Atta girl” The older man praises you, caressing your thigh as you open up to him more. He feels so fucking good on his own, but the feeling of Jonah kissing your neck and gently caressing your breasts is working you up faster. Many hands make for light work. Marcus fucked his fingers into you, your sleep body thrumming inside. You’d fall asleep if you were so close to cumming. “Gett’n nice tight, Jonah, don’t stop whatever you’re doing.”

Jonah was lost in the sauce, licking and sucking and nibbling all over every inch of skin he could find on you. It was then you noticed him humping the bed. This was no longer about your pleasure, although he certainly was giving it, but it was about him about ready to cum in his pants with his mouth suckling on your tit. Fuck, he felt so goddamn good, three of Marcus’s fingers plunged inside you, stretching you, curling in to reach juuuuust right, and Jonah worshipping every inch.

When you cum, it isn’t earth shattering, you down see stars or scream or break headboards. Instead, you hold your breath for a moment, feeling them, savoring them as you cum on Marcus. Then, you let go of the breath, sighing and falling into sleep.

Jonah cums in his pants next to you, sucking a hickey into your skin as he groans into you. For all his complaining earlier, he can’t stay quiet either. Marcus pulls out his hard cock, jerking himself over your sleeping body, large and imposing, until he comes all over your naked and dripping pussy.

Both your boys clean you up and tuck you in. No matter how much they wanted to fuck you, they let you sleep. You deserved it.

The morning was bittersweet.

You enjoyed cooking for you men, filling up their tummies. Despite living in the big house, Jonah didn’t eat enough. You figured it was his anxiety. Marcus certainly ate. You loved watching him devour your food the way he devoured you, so you always made a nice big breakfast on your last mornings just to hear him hum and say “gyatDAMN baby! Good as hell.”

Jonah was quieter eating, but always had his signature smile on his face. You liked seeing his smile. You liked that no matter what he’d been through, the world couldn’t knock it off him. A new guard you’d just done an exam on reminded you a lot of him. Something Saha? You couldn’t remember, but he was a smiley lad too. Jonah never failed to make you laugh, to make you feel pretty and nice and sweet and like you didn’t like every single day of your life at risk.

Marcus was more stoic, aged and refined, the picture of safety, community, fatherhood, responsibility. He made you feel incredibly safe, like nothing could get to you, no matter the things you were planning, the people you were working with, the changes you were trying to make happen that you couldn’t talk to them about… They had there secrets, you had yours, but these weekends away they made life bearable, and you hope you did the same for them.

“Morn’m darl’n” Jonah came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you neck. “Smells good like always, thank you.”

“How long do you have?”

He sighs, “Maybe half an hour. Beatriz wants me back for some bullshit ceremony for rain with Ben.”

“Is that code for she fucks him too?” You immediately regret it. Jonah didn’t like talking about what happened between him and Beatriz or this recent between Beatriz and Francisco. Francisco was the same age Jonah was when the abuse started for him. He liked Francisco a whole lot more than he did Santiago, although you suspected Jonah still had a soft spot for the boy.

He kissed your neck. “It’s okay honey. Why don’t you turn off that stove so I can get all up in your guts and show you how thankful I am for breakfast.”

He always managed to make you laugh, rolling your eyes. “And they say romance is dead.” but you do turn off the stove, because this is the last you’ll get of him for a while.

Jonah bends you over the counter, nearly ripping your pants down with the force of his motions and begins to finger you open, two fingers in your pussy and a thumb in your asshole, bringing you to a whimpering mess before the pans cooled. When he thrust his cock into you, all your sadness of the end of the trip came to a head. It was desperate thrusts, fucking into you and holding you tight, never pulling far away from you body. He needed you, he needed to fuck someone who loved him, who cared about him, who treated him as more than a toy to use and show off. It wasn’t love, but christ it was friendship, it was caring and affection. There were times he thought he loved Beatriz, times he thought maybe she really did love him… Then he’d see the burn marks on his chest from cigarettes and he’d remember who he was to her. Disposable.

He wasn’t disposable to you.

He wasn’t disposable to Marcus.

And despite their complex relationship, he wasn’t disposable to Iris. This was what happened. You three were who mattered.

He filled you, again and again and again and when he tucked his face into your neck, you swear he felt wet, but you didn’t dare say a thing about it. His kisses were a tender contrast to the harsh, sloppy, needy thrusts of his hips. His arm slips down, rubbing your clit, and Jonah whispers in your ear, soft and loving. “Come for me, please.”

All it takes is a few more minutes, cumming on his cock with choked moans shutting and collapsing onto the granite. But Jonah wasn’t done with you yet. He pulls two more climaxes out of you feral and grunting, hands wandering over every inch of you, needing to memorize whatever he could of your softness.

“Jonah?” You whisper, face and upper body pressed into the hard surface. Jonah stops, cock buried deep inside you.

His voice is strained. “Shit, sorry, am I hurting you?” He softens, letting his body weight off of you.

“No, no, sweetheart…” But he separates from you. You turn around, grabbing him and pulling you right up next to your body again. “Don’t go… I like how you feel….” Soft, the kind of touch he’s not used to, you kiss his pretty lips. Jonah helps you hop up onto the counter and there he re-enters you. It’s less rough but just as desperate, sweaty bodies clinging to each other, your hands pawing at his back, careful not to scratch, careful not hurt him. Jonah liked when you scratched down his back, but you knew he needed something else right now. He needed soft.

Jonah came inside you, gentle kisses on your neck, chest, lips with sweet kisses.

It’s hard watching him leave. It always is. Jonah mounts his horse, french toast in his bag for a snack on the way back and a bouquet of wildflowers and daffodils for Iris tied to the sattle. You give him a wave, and realize how, even though Jonah made you feel safe, he didn’t feel safe in his own life. You wanted to protect him as well. You would. Jonah was too close to the top to tell him what was happening, but you and Marcus were working on something with other members. Something that would change things. Something that would help fix this world and make a better life you, Marcus, Jonah, and their daughters.

Jonah rides off with a smile, and Marcus wraps his arms around you in a bear hug.

“He’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out.”

You sigh. “I know. I just worry.”

“I know.” Marcus kisses into your hair, squeezing you tightly. “I know you do. C’mon now, you and I got another few hours before we should head out. Let’s say we make good use of it.”

Marcus lifts you off your feet to spin you around, making you laugh again.

The laugh echoed down to Jonah as he road away.

**************

Again. NOT CANON. When we get more info on marcus and the past, mrcus and jonah have sexual and romantic tension but in my head they dont fuck. thats up to you. Howver, things like Beatriz physically harming Jonah, Iris training to be a house mother (hence why she knows medical, cooking, sewing, cleaning all that stuff so much) are all true.

Thank you May for this commission!!!! I love yooouuu!!!

#rooms on fire #jonah hanson #marcus ROF #david harbour #timothy olyphant #my oc's

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beaker1636 · 3 months

Text

The Scavenger Hunt: pt. 3 Our First Date

“So where are we going?” your sister asks you, both of you making your way back to her car ready to go to the next place that you need to go.

“The arcade, I think? We were planning on a restaurant together but when we went there they lost the reservation somehow so we wound up wandering around for a while downtown until we came across the arcade. We wound up playing games and ordering garbage fried food, but it was fun. We made the best of it despite the fact that it was not what we wanted it to be,” you answer, another smile making its way across your face. “Rick was so disappointed that it didn’t work out, and I could tell. He likes things a certain way so when it didn’t work out he was upset, I thought for sure the date was ruined and wouldn’t end well with the mood he was in but we fixed it. He apologized all night long that we didn’t get to do what he had planned but I loved what we did regardless. That is where the ducky nickname came from, we picked out a small duck from the prize stand.”

“This is fun, getting to hear all these memories with you from your past with Ricky, I am glad he asked me to be a part of this with you. Did you two do anything else that night or just that?” She asked you, giving you a small look before turning back towards the road.

“That was it, he planned only dinner so we had nothing else going on when that didn’t work. We just played the games for a while and then wound up back at my apartment, watching a movie. It was nice, I actually prefer that it was something we did together. He concentrated quite a bit when he was playing, trying to beat the scores. It was really cute, I love that look on him,” you say, watching out the window as she pulls into the arcade parking lot.

You both step out of the car and make your way into the building, being greeted right away by the prize attendant and Vinny, who is standing there with a smile when you both walk in.

“I’m getting the feeling you all are in on this aren’t you?” You ask him, letting him give you a hug before he pulls your sister into one. Her blushing brightly as they both lingered for a moment, you’ll have to ask her about that later.

“Yeah, you’re going to see all of us at least once today. Anyways, I just bought tokens from this wonderful woman and am not allowed to let you back towards the prize desk until you have gotten a score of 250 on skeeball. And Ricky said you suck at skeeball so we better get started on it,” Vinny says, leading the two of you away towards the game where you let out a groan.

“That is going to be damn near impossible, she has always been garbage at it. Be prepared to watch her fail for a while Vin,” you sister teases, watching you start your first game.

You throw the balls and despite aiming at the 50 you keep getting 10 and 20 points, making your final score a pathetic 170 points, you pouting as you put in the token to try again… and again, failing miserably.

“I’m going to message Rick and tell him this is going awfully, ask if he has a back up plan for this,” Vinny mumbles, pulling his phone out of his pocket after watching you try for almost an hour. “Okay, he said that they will also accept 150 tickets from the machine, whichever you hit first so lets count where you are at.”

Him and your sister count your tickets as you continue to try, doing better but still not quite hitting the 250 mark you need to, your highest score being 230.

“You are at 125 tickets, so if we play a couple more times we should be able to make it. Hopefully it won’t be too hard, sorry, we need to keep this going and that’s probably going to be the easiest way. That is kind of mean, making you play a game that you suck at,” Vinny says, nudging your side and making you glare at him.

“It's a joke between us, that night I kept getting mad because he was kicking my ass at it. We played skeeball alone for almost an hour that night as well because I was determined I would beat him and nope. My stubborn ass wanted to keep trying but the arcade was closing,” you explained as you continued the game.

“That does sound like something you would do, have you both come back so you could try and redeem yourself?” Vinny asks you, watching as you still continue to fail at hitting any decent numbers.

“Fuck no, I wasn’t going to let him kick my ass again. Rather avoid it than admit he defeated me,” you respond, rolling your eyes as you throw in another token.

“That also sounds like you,” your sister says with a laugh, standing behind you as she continues to watch as well.

You finally get enough tickets with your last game you played and take them up to the desk, handing them to the lady who is working the prize desk with a smile.

“I take it you never hit the score so you had to ticket yourself out?” She asks with a laugh. “I was warned you might be here for a while by the gentleman who brought me your prize. Here it is,” she says, handing you a letter and a rose.

Ducky,

I thought for sure that after the dinner reservation mess you would leave, that you wouldn’t want to continue the date with the guy who messed up when the reservation was. When you suggested that we just walk around and find something else to do, grabbing my hand and leading me as you walked around the downtown area it filled me with joy. That is what you always do, look at the brighter side of life and make the best of things.

When we came across this arcade I was worried it was going to be a bad decision, that you wouldn’t enjoy it because it was childish. But somehow you read my thoughts and decided that is where we had to go, to play games like we were young teenagers on a first date again, eating shitty fried food that would give us both stomach aches as we played and laughed the night away.

My favorite part is when you insisted you’d beat me at this god forsaken game, one that I always thought I sucked at but you….yikes. Despite the fact that you kept losing you continued to laugh, to play with me and insist that my time was coming until we got the warning almost an hour into playing that game that the arcade was closing soon. When we cashed in the tickets and you told me what to get you I have no clue what possessed me to get the stuffed duck, but I did. And I love that you still have it, that it sits in our bedroom. That you told me you want to give it to our first baby when we have one so that the memory can continue to live on, that you are my ducky.

The night didn’t end how either of us expected, or wanted it to but we still had a blast and by some miracle you agreed to another date. I’m so glad you gave me that chance, that you still give me that chance.

Because I know I tortured you with that game… and Vin and Kayla by making them watch you suffer with the game I will be nice and give you the next location without a puzzle this time. I want you to go to where we first kissed, because for some reason I was too nervous to kiss you on our first date and waited until our second.

Keep going baby, I love you

Ricky

“Is it bad I kind of want to go with you the rest of the way because I am curious about all of the puzzles, one of you will have to tell me about them. Good luck,” Vinny says, walking the two of you to your car, both your sister and you getting in.

“Where are we going now?” Your sister asks you, watching you closely as you take your seat. She could tell you we’re getting emotional at this point, not that it was a bad thing. The memories are just really taking hold on you, really mean a lot and to be reliving so many is important to you and you are loving it.

“City park,” you answer looking at the rose you just received with a smile.

“I love that you are always ready for new adventures, to always find something new and exciting in everything we do.”

#the scavenger hunt #ricky olson fluff #ricky olson fix #Ricky Olson fic #ricky olson imagine #ricky olson x reader #Ricky Olson fanfic #ricky olson fanfiction #bree sucks at fanfiction

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insomniac-dot-ink · 2 years

Text

Original_The Silence of the Next Universe

When we finally build a window into the next universe over, no one will speak to us there. Dr. Margaret Camry had a hard time convincing anyone it was even that. Skeptics said she was pointing it in the wrong direction—gazing out into the next solar system or snagging on an old tv show transmission. She had to record it for weeks, tearing her hair out and pointing at the screen and everything that looked like our universe, but wasn’t. The dust settled more slowly there. The light refracted more brightly. The people walked with a sloping gate of one extra vertebra.

They look like us. We think they’re human, human in their own sense. And they won’t talk to us. We motion and hand signal and tap on the walls and flash morse code at them, holding up letters to the screen and slowly mouthing the alphabet. Newer interns might point at themselves and yell their own names, louder and louder like that might break the distance between dimensions with willpower alone. Some older scientists attempt conversation using color theory and wolf howls—just in case, you know? Just in case they howl like wolves, I suppose.

Desperation breeds fools of everyone and Dr. Camry’s team dearly wants that Nebula Prize. I do too, technically.

We know they see us— the people who are not quiet people—their brows pinch together, and their lips purse and they walk a little faster. The screen is in some kind of hallway. There are gray walls of wide smooth panels and corner-less ceilings, a modernistic sensibility for the palette of someone partial to drinking unsweetened cereal milk.

At the very least we’ve determined it's some kind of communal corridor. Families with fathers and mothers holding strangely gangling toddles pass by along with people in red blazers going to work or grandmas in fleecy sweaters getting home from the store. We’ve never seen their shoes which somehow bothers me.

They wear clothes with sharp angles and stiff-looking material, usually buttoned all the way to the throat. No one seems to wear hats, but almost all of them wear dangling earrings off of earlobes that are a little too long and a little too narrow.

There is something familiar about their angular outfits and chin-length hairdos, something I could imagine coming into style in our universe in maybe 10 or 20 years. And they won’t talk to us. They don’t even want to look at us.

Most nights, I dream of windows.

When I leave our watch room which feels tinier and tinier by the day, and I lie down for the mandatory 8-hour rest, I dream of windows in halls. Windows that open up into purpling skies or birds that float instead of fly, and a beautiful not-person who whispers dully, lovingly in my ear. Welcome, hello, we’ve been waiting for you.

I wake in a cold sweet and guilt burns behind my eyes. The words linger at the cusp of my ear, an ear smaller and wider than theirs. I won’t admit I know which one it is whispering to me. A blonde, dyed blonde, poorly. The fact that our neighboring dimension has poor dye jobs is a joke onto itself. I imagine we could also joke about it sometime. I imagine I could give her tips on how to even out the color and tell her about how I’ve been dying my own hair since grade school—how I was almost a chemist until all of my bangs fell out my freshmen year of college.

I imagine she would laugh at that.

“You can’t have a crush on someone on one of the Doomers.”

Doomers is our name for them, or Dimension D citizens. We call it that because we thought the “D” sounds cool and it doesn’t actually stand for anything except whatever dirty phrase the newest interns can think of.

I scrub my burning eyes and make a point not to look at my watch-mate, Lars. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m only saying,” I give him a hard look. “Some of them seem more receptive to communication than the others, you know? I mean, the one’s we see almost every day could probably choose a different hallway—”

“If they weren’t in love with you?” He teases.

“If they weren’t interested in reaching out!” I grumble. “At some point. . .”

“Uh-huh.” I practically feel Lars giving me a smarmy smile. A smile that comes with it’s own side of swarm. “And which one of them exactly do you want to reach out?”

I sink lower in my seat. Our interdimensional hallway was empty right then because I guess sometimes hallways have to be empty.

“What time, Brenna? What time do you see Lady B each day?” Lady B is one of our nicknames. We have nicknames for all of the regulars.

I exhale harshly. “You see her too. It’s not weird to note her movements, it’s literally our job.”

Lars clears his throat and taps through our logs. “Notes by Dr. Brenna Wilkens, day 324, time 7:34 local, subject B03 was wearing feathered gold earrings today the length of one’s pinky. She wore a matte lipstick and grey cotton-like jacket. Subject’s demeanor was placid, if not thoughtful, she stared at the ceiling whereas she normally stares at the floor. Perhaps, she’s looking forward to this day? Perhaps she wants to hold my very tender scientist body—"

“You make my job so much harder than it needs to be.” I gnash my teeth.

Lars turns back to me. “How’re you gonna make sweet interdimensional love if all she does is glare at us, Bren-Bren?” He pushes back in his fancy swivel chair he brought from home. He said he needed a nice one since all we do is sit all day. “You should put your seductive ways to good use. Do you think they enjoy nudie mags in Doomsville?”

I give an appropriate eye role and comment dryly, “actually, Lars, you are the only person in this universe who likes nudie mags. No one else, a real innovator, surely, you’ll receive tenure at the nearest Marster’s Star Port.”

“Hold that thought. There’s our main man, Ken Doll.” Lars starts jotting down our daily notes as people appear. We take down what they are wearing, their demeanor, how fast they are walking. It’s the least we can do at this point. “And your crush!”

I hold my breath. Lady B enters from the left and strides across the screen. She is usually glaring, thin dark eyebrows dented inward, and arms held tightly at her sides. She glares at the ground, the ceiling, and the place right beside our screen, or rather their screen, in the hallway.

She wears bright earbuds nestled behind her choppy bad-dye-job curls. I often imagine asking her what she’s listening to. If it’s music. If it’s news. If she likes it.

I know she doesn’t like us. I give a slight wave, standing up in my chair and trying to catch her eye just in case. I might be imagining it, but I swear the woman on the other side flinches ever so slightly in response. And then she’s gone again.

I practically melt. “Did you see that?” I can still see the slightest twitch of her shoulders.

Lars grows uncharacteristically silent for a long moment. “I forget that sometimes,” he says in a bemused way. “That they can see us.”

The shift passes with its usual suspects and notes and the busy boring hallway in an entirely different dimension than ours. Most of the subjects look grumpy or weary that day, our most long-standing theory is that Mondays exist there too.

The thing we don’t understand though, the thing that none of us understand, is why they built their own screen first. For us to peer into their little gray hallway in some random corridor in some random sector means they must have built an interdimensional lens for us to connect to. But why? Why build a window to another universe and then not talk to us? Ignore us? Why have it at all?

The question gnaws at all of us, consumes some of the older scientists until they spiral out into becoming philosophy professors or drunks. Two careers we’ve all been tempted by.

Mostly though, I find other things to consume me.

Love, false love or love that only exists in windows, does funny things to you. The first truly funny this is when I start bringing in music to our nightly watches. Nothing else has worked and Dr. Camry has spent less and less time reading our theoretical papers and more and more time locked away in her lab. So, I bring a music box to my session with Lars, and he doesn’t bother me about protocol.

We plug in music and play it toward the screen. We’ve determined they can hear us even if they must keep the volume on low or whatever else they do to ignore us when we’re playing elephant trumpeting or whale noises directly into their universe. I play the classics at first, orchestra performances and opera singers—some of which we’ve tried before.

The people on the other side diligently ignore us. We note a slight hesitation when we play violin music and a slight increase in walking speed when we play opera. Piano solos make their glares even more prominent.

“Maybe they don’t have pianos in that universe?” Lars muses. “Maybe pianos are devil music there, too sexy for the locals . . .”

“Or maybe they wish our boring hallway music was at least on par with their elevator music.”

“Have you tried Elvis yet?”

I snort. “We’re trying Swan Lake first and then move on to slightly less sexual work . . .”

Lady B notices after the first few visits. I see it in the way she wobbles in place and her angry, dark eyes glance over the screen, over our faces. I beam. She keeps moving.

Lars makes kissy faces and I ignore him when I start playing ballads by long dead composers and some modern pop. Neither of us say anything if the ballads are love songs and no one can say anything more if I sing along sometimes and lean a little closer to the screen.

Does love transcend universes? Probably not. It would complicate the concept of soulmates too much, too many logistical issues there.

Even more so, the people in the next universe over don't talk to us—even after we reached them. Even after they built their own screen first. Or at least, that’s what we assumed.

I was there on our last shift. In some ways, everything that came after started from that question of love and universes.

I was humming along to a Dark District techno song called Love that Only Grows—modern music which would make old Dr. Louis potentially hunt me for sport. The music had a way of bringing out something looser in me, it had been too many days of cramped space in a small lab with the same people. Lars tapped along and a watched the left-most side of the hall.

Lady B appeared as she always did, and I stood up in my chair to wave. I sang a little louder for her ears and her ears alone.

“Talk to me, talk to me, baby! I love the way you move so good and yet so bad.” It was silly, barely a song and more of a club remix some kid in the outer planets put together in his basement. “Everything you do is bad for me, bad for me, but oh so good.”

Lady B’s eyebrows skyrocket. She wobbles in place and straightens up with her spine with an extra vertebra. Maybe they have the exact same song in their universe. Or maybe I finally sang loud enough to stop her.

My heart squeezes and stampedes through my chest in one glorious moment. Her eyes meet mine. They are brown as oak trees (do they have oak trees?) and lashes long enough to make wishes on (I hope they have wishes in that universe). Her pupils expand slightly and her eyes are just like ours.

I’m smiling like a dope on all the tapes we rewatch. She doesn’t smile back in any of them either. She nods, one small jerk of her head, eyes fixed on something behind us. Lady B nods at it and then she’s gone. She must have bolted, but it almost seems like she was there one moment and gone the next.

Lars turns first and I hear him inhale sharply.

I am still high on everything about the way her eyes caught on me when I turn as well. My smile slowly falls. There is a reflection in the glass of the far door. A reflection of our screen to another universe, but it is not their hallway reflected there. It is not our universe or theirs at all.

An eye peers back at us. A large singular eye unblinking and yellow as moons and dogs and smoggy air. It’s not an eye like ours. We realize too late that perhaps all those people we’ve tried to say something to have been trying to tell us something back. They didn’t build that screen.

------------------------

Heya, I write spooky stories but also Sapphic romance. Get a copy of my Sapphic urban fantasy collection here. If you enjoyed the story, leave a tip either here on Tumblr or Ko-Fi, thank you!

#short story #writing #sci-fi #science fiction #wlw #horror but make it romance and tragic #long post

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 4 months

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 30: New York Christmas Serenade (3/4)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1825

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 31 32

New York Christmas Serenade (pt. 3 of 4)

CS Genre: Canon Divergence (missing year between 3a and 3b)

“Mom! Wake up!” Henry said, shaking her shoulder. “It’s Christmas morning!”

Emma groaned as she woke up. It was early. Way too early. By the look of the sky from her bedroom window, it would still be Christmas morning for another several hours yet. It could barely even be called dawn.

“Alright, Kid, I’m up,” she said on a yawn, reaching for her robe and slippers. “I know you’re all about opening the rest of your presents, but you’re going to have to wait for the coffee to brew. You know I’m not awake before I’ve had my first two cups.”

“Don’t worry about that!” Henry said, “Killian already made coffee. Now he’s working on breakfast.”

Emma froze. Killian. How had she forgotten the handsome stranger was still there?

Not long after Henry opened his gifts, Emma had glanced out the window to see it snowing with a vengeance. Turning on the TV, she quickly found out why. They were in the opening stages of a monster blizzard.

Emma shot Killian a concerned look. “You have a place to stay?” she asked. “Your home close?”

“I’m afraid not, love,” Killian said. “I’ve yet to secure lodgings for myself. It’s no matter, though. I’ve weathered many a storm.”

The thought of turning him out into the blizzard had seemed beyond heartless. Who let a guest of theirs go out and freeze to death in a blizzard? Particularly one her son seemed to have an inexplicable bond with—especially after getting that storybook? Particularly one she felt such a tie to.

“Look,” she’d said stiffly. “It’s nasty out there. If you want, you can crash on our couch. Can’t guarantee it’s the most comfortable bed you’ll ever sleep on, but it’s bound to be better than wandering around on the streets of New York in the middle of a blizzard, right?”

His eyes had lit up as though she’d offered him the best gift of his life. “It would be an honor to sleep on your couch, Swan,” he’d said in wonder. “You’ve no idea how much it means to me that you’ve offered.”

Now, in the (still barely there) light of day, Emma began to second guess her magnanimous gesture. What did she even know about this Killian guy really? What kind of a mother lets a strange guy—who could be a serial killer for all she knew—crash on her couch with her son in the apartment.

You’re safe with him. He’d never harm you.

Now where had that thought come from? It made no sense that she’d know that, but somehow she could feel the truth of the statement all the way to her bones. Killian Jones was no threat to her or to Henry.

(Well…except perhaps to her heart. Only one night in the man’s company—one very platonic night—and she could already feel herself falling for him. What was with her? Emma Swan did not get crushes like that! She had her heart locked up as tightly as Fort Knox. No way she lets feelings in!)

Emma took a tentative step from her bedroom and couldn’t help the groan of appreciation that escaped her. It smelled amazing out there. Coffee—strong coffee from the scent of it—percolating, bacon sizzling, pancakes on the griddle. She took it back. Not only was Killian no threat to her, she may have to just invite him to live with the two of them.

“Morning love,” He called with a cheery smile—how did he look that chipper after only getting a few hours of sleep on a lumpy sofa? “I trust you slept well?”

“What little amount of time the kid let me sleep,” she said on a yawn. “He’s lucky it’s Christmas or no way I’d let him get away with waking me up at the butt crack of dawn.”

Killian chuckled. “No I suppose not. I know full well a man is taking his life in his hands when he wakes you. There was one morning on Never…er…I mean…you look like someone who enjoys her sleep.”

“Nice recovery,” Henry said under his breath. “Making her think you’re crazy is definitely not how you make headway with Operation Captain Swan.”

“Never? Operation Captain Swan?” Emma asked in bewilderment. “What are the two of you talking about? How do you know my sleeping habits? And when did you and Henry suddenly become best friends? ”

“Not to worry, Swan,” Killian said, scratching away at that spot on his neck again. “This morning the lad merely told me that the way to your heart is through your stomach.”

“The way to my…Are you…are you saying you want to get to my heart?” No way she was telling him that very organ was pounding so hard at the very notion she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

In a blink Killian’s embarrassment faded away to be replaced by pure flirtatious mischief. “Oh darling. You have no idea,” he purred.

She held his gaze for as long as she could (which…ended up being less than five seconds), and then she hid behind her favorite defense—sarcasm. “Yeah, well, you gonna take that bacon out of the pan or just let it burn while you act like an idiot?”

He shot her a wounded look. “Of course I had no intention of burning your victuals, Swan! It took me quite some time to determine the proper way to utilize your cooking box, and now that I have, I have no intention of ruining a perfectly good breakfast.”

“It’s called a stove, Hook,” Henry muttered under his breath.

Seriously, when did the two of them become all buddy-buddy? And where was this guy from that he didn’t even know what a stove was?

She had no further time to ponder the big questions of her life, though, as Killian slid a plate of food and a mug of coffee in her direction. At the first bite, Emma moaned in ecstasy. The man could cook.

Looking up, she caught the positively sinful look in Killian’s eye. “I quite like that sound Darling. Perhaps I might endeavor to elicit it once more…sometime when we’re alone.”

“La, la, la,” Henry said, sticking his fingers in his ears. “Kid in the room guys!”

Emma felt her face flame, so she did the only reasonable thing, she turned a withering glare at the idiot in leather currently seated at the head of the table. “In your dreams Jones.”

“You have no idea.”

Emma glared again, expecting to see the same sinful look in his eyes, but what she found instead floored her. Pure, unvarnished longing. It was the look of a man desperately in love. One who feared he’d never have a chance with the girl of his dreams.

The look called to her, and she suddenly had the insane urge to reach over, grab his hand and reassure him that he would find happiness one day.

Fortunately her hand closest to Killian was currently occupied shoveling as much food as possible into her mouth.

Breakfast was a short affair, eaten hastily. While Henry was normally a pretty patient kid, waiting to open presents on Christmas morning would test the patience of any kid.

“Why don’t you go get your presents organized,” Emma said, getting to her feet. “I’ll just take care of these dishes and I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Nonsense, Swan,” Killian said with a hand to her arm…a soft pat that felt almost like a caress. “Go have Christmas morning with your son. I’m perfectly capable of righting the galley.”

“You sure? I hate to have you cook breakfast and then stick you with dishes too.”

“Aye,” he said with a tender smile. “Believe me when I say your happiness…yours and your lad’s…ensure my happiness.”

She smiled, impulsively reaching over and squeezing his hand. “Thanks.”

“You are most welcome.”

The following hour passed in a veritable blur, Henry moving from present to present. She supposed maybe she spoiled him with all the Christmas gifts she’d gotten him, but he was such a good kid and so genuinely grateful for everything he got. And then, of course, there was always that little lost girl inside of her that would never forget what it was like to wake up on Christmas morning to a bare tree and a lack of family. If it made her go a little overboard with her kid…that was just the way it was.

Just as the last gift—a brand new journal and gel pen (the kid liked to write)—was unwrapped, the couch seat beside her sagged, and Emma looked over to see Killian by her side. Not only by by her side, but close enough she could feel the heat of his body against her. It was…distracting to say the least.

“Um…” she said, clearing her throat and trying not to sound like a complete fool, “I guess that’s it. The gifts are all unwrapped.”

“Not quite, Swan,” he said in a low, caressing voice. “I’ve one yet to bestow on you.”

“Me?” she asked. “You got me a gift?”

“Aye,” he said with a nod, turning away to rummage through his satchel once again. I saw this and thought of you.”

“Th…thank you,” she said, taking the long, thin velvet-covered box he held out to her. Opening it, she found a diamond and opal pendant in the shape of a swan attached to a fine, silver chain. It was gorgeous.

“I know you don’t remember, love,” he said softly, “but this pendant reminds me of our first adventure…one of the most satisfying adventures of my life, and it belongs with no one but you.”

“The beanstalk!:” Henry said from his place on the floor, still surrounded by his Christmas loot. “It reminds you of the beanstalk.”

“Aye,” Killian said. “That it does indeed.”

It should have been completely nonsensical this conversation her son was having with her…pirate (No! Not her pirate!), but somehow it simply wasn’t. Something deep within her wanted to nod along and agree with them.

Before she could second guess herself, Emma leaned over and impulsively hugged Killian. “Thanks! I love it. And…I mean, it’s still snowing out there. If you, you know, want to keep crashing on the couch for the next few days, I’m okay with that.”

Notes: I wanted to give Emma’s perspective on the things going on, but unfortunately, that didn’t give me an opportunity to show any post-memory gain conversations between Henry and Killian—or explain what Henry meant by “Operation Captain Swan”. Don’t worry, all will be revealed in the fourth (and last) section of this little story.

–Up next: We learn what kind of plots Emma’s boys have hatched to help her remember—and whether or not they’re successful. As New Year’s Eve arrives, Henry tells Killian about a certain midnight-on-New-Year’s-Eve tradition in the Land Without Magic.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction

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buryam-soul · 10 months

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Comment Fest - Final Count and Fic List!

IT’S LOVING FIC WRITERS HOURS AND BY HOURS I MEAN DAYS!

Thank you so much to @justleaveacommentfest for this wonderful event, you gave me the courage to do what I always wanted to. My total is: 29 comments! I didn’t have a goal in mind coming in to this, but that’s a big jump from zero!

Also I caved and finally made an AO3 account thanks to this event and I’ve been using it to unleash my adoration of fics onto unsuspecting authors! If you see an Angkasa_Biru in the wild.... That's me! (I didn't know how to bring this up when I commented on my mutuals' fics haha hi guys)

As for the rest of this long post, I’ve been keeping it in my drafts and updating daily. Here are all the fics I commented on in chronological order! Fandoms you can find here are:

Precure (5 fics)

Genshin Impact (10 fics) (Mostly Cyno/Alhaitham, a few of them platonic)

Drawtectives (2 fics)

Aurora (3 fics)

Avatar the Last Airbender (1 series with 9 parts so far).

There’s 2 Genshin smut fics but I label them as NSFW, proceed with caution!

Day 1: Old Fics/New Fics

Total: 3 comments

Because of timezone shenanigans, I was one of the lucky bunch who still had AO3 working for the earlier half of the day! I was planning to unwind after errands later that day with some more fics but then... the site's down. RIP.

Cold Bug by discordiansamba

Happiness Charge Precure | Iona

Old Fic (August 2017)

A sweet and cute Iona sickfic featuring her friends visiting her at different times. It’s a nice warm hug of a fic!

Late Night Revelation by Ereana

Genshin Impact | Alhaitham/Cyno

New Fic (9 July 2023)

Sleepy and soft conversation between the Acting Grand Sage and the General Mahamatra as they work overtime together. I might have squealed at the end of chapter one.

Be Brave! What it Takes to be a Cure by AlmondTofuChan

Hirogaru Sky Precure | Tsubasa & Ageha

New(ish?) Fic (20 June 2023)

Post-episode15 Tsubasa hurt/comfort that reads very much like a canon episode. It’s nice and sweet, focusing on mainly Ageha and Tsubasa, and the characterizations feel on point!

Day 2: (oops no reading)

Total: -

Site down for the rest of the day. RIP

Day 3: <2k Words and AUs

Total: 13 comments

Praise be! AO3 is back up. I went a little insane to compensate for yesterday and possibly maybe to avoid my chores. Whoops.

A speculative analysis of how bad you want me by desertbloom

Genshin Impact | Alhaitham/Cyno

(does not follow today’s theme. but it’s the first thing i saw opening the tag today and it’s nice, of course i commented)

The conceit is simple but interesting - trap these two in a room that can only be unlocked if each tells a lie and the other believes it. The banter that results is an absolute blast, and that ending took me out.

Work in Progress by echoelbo

Genshin Impact | Alhaitham/Cyno

<2k Words (1,135)

Fake dating because Alhaitham wants to get in trouble and be demoted. Comedic with a pinch of sweetness.

kintsugi series by discordian samba

Avatar the Last Airbender | Toph & Zuko

AU (Canon Divergence)

ONE OF MY FAVORITE SERIES OF ALL TIME! A fantastic AU wherein Zuko was banished instead of sent to search for the Avatar, and ended up meeting Toph years earlier and working for her family now. It’s such a fun and good time, the OCs feel very grounded to the setting, the worldbuilding feels like a natural extension of canon, and it oozes with found family energy.

Note: I left 3 comments here today. 2 on each chapter of of earth and fire and 1 on those left behind.

you’re so good at herbal tea, getting enough sleep by arospacecase

Drawtectives | Rosé & Jancy True

<2k Words (533)

Short and sweet written version of Rosé’s memory from S2E9 of her birthday with Jancy.

Three Drawtectives in a Bed by Shadowmatic

Drawtectives | Grendan Highforge & Gyorik Rogdul & Rosé

<2k Words (654)

Post S1, the trio sharing a bed for the first time. Nice and cute!

Kuru Kururun! by CureKururun

Tropical Rouge Precure | Kururun

<2k Words (100)

Obligatory Kururun shitpost fic; this is the first fic I ever reblogged on tumblr, so I must show some respect. Kururun is love, Kururun is life.

A Flash of Violet by twilightstarr

Genshin Impact | Alhaitham/Cyno

<2k Words (1,281) and AU (Canon Divergence)

AU where the Traveler wasn’t involved in Alhaitham’s Story Quest-- so Cyno comes to the rescue during that last bit of combat. Featuring sexual tension and flirting in an obscure language because they’re nerds (affectionate). Ties in with Te Diligo mentioned below, but it could be read as a standalone, I think!

Baby Mine by Coffeewolf67

Aurora | Falst & Kendal

<2k Words (1,350)

A warm, comforting story about Falst soothing Kendal after a nightmare with a lullaby his mother used to sing.

Love does nothing by Linear_Aztec

Aurora | Erin/Void Dragon, slight Erin/Falst

<2k Words (1,225)

VD and Erin get "married" with Falst as the officiant. It's crack. It's silly. It's amazing and fun.

What the Desert Remembers by ghostrobin

Genshin Impact | Alhaitham/Cyno

An absolutely amazing 17k word experience. It’s a long journey to the desert and a long journey of Alhaitham (and the readers) discovering what Cyno even is and what his goals are.

show me your teeth by spiralpegasus

Genshin Impact | Alhaitham/Cyno

Omegaverse AU | NSFW

Comfort fic!! The build up is fun, the smut makes me go feral, and the sweetness has my heart in a chokehold. The characterization and worldbuilding intertwining feels very natural-- of course Alhaitham would take a full week off even if his heats usually only last a few days, that’s so like him.

Day 4: Platonic/Rarepair

Total: 5 comments

Hit a snag in the middle of the day because of personal stuff, sadly. BUT NO EXCUSES JUST RESULTS

scenery along that widened road by halcyonine

Genshin Impact | Alhaitham/Cyno, Alhaitham & Kaveh

AU - Canon Divergence (was going to reread for yesterday but whoops)

The worldbuilding is amazing, intertwining mundane and strange aspects of Sumeru. The fake dating to real feelings pipeline is wonderful, especially written in Alhaitham's POV with his (over)thinking about everything. And the way it plays with canon is such a treat!!

Cortisol rising by Anonymous

Genshin Impact | Alhaitham & Cyno, Alhaitham & Kaveh, Kaveh & Cyno

Platonic

In which Alhaitham is stressed by the Acting Grand Sage position, an argument with Kaveh sends him to sensory overload, and Cyno arrives just in time to help him ground himself. (And no Kaveh is not treated as malicious, they do very well balancing his frustrating side and the understandable reasons why he’s pissed.)

Accismus by Anonymous

Genshin Impact | Alhaitham & Cyno & Tighnari

Platonic

Alhaitham sick fic! As in he's in shambles and is also a difficult patient. But Tighnari persists and Cyno is there to help. The characterization feels on point even when our favorite Scribe is in tears from pain!

Stitch by Stitch by discordiansamba

Happiness Charge Precure | Iona & Phantom

Platonic

Post-canon bond-with-your-former-enemy time!! Featuring Iona teaching Phanphan how to knit. Comedic and sweet!

Last Name Basis by discordiansamba

Happiness Charge Precure | Iona/Seiji

Rarepair

Iona and Seiji continue to call the other by their last names despite the seven months of dating and Hime is having none of it. Hilarity ensues!

Day 5: free space

Total: 7 comments

Because of timezones, the “surprise flavor” has yet to be revealed, so I’m taking this as a free/themeless day! ...uh, but I had the itch to draw today, so it did take a while for me to actually get to reading. Whoops.

I guess I accidentally themed the day around multichapter?

Te Diligo by twilightstarr

Genshin Impact | Alhaitham/Cyno

(NSFW)

Rivals to friends to benefits to queerplatonic partners...!! It starts with Alhaitham flirting to ruin Cyno’s concentration in a spar, it spirals into electro-infused kissing and sexy times in the Grand Sage office. Featuring good boundary-setting, genuine friendship realizations, and a healthy dose of Cyno jokes! Another of my comfort fics, queerplatonic cytham is everything to me

I left 2 comments, on chapters 1 and 2.

Tahraim Adopts a Feral Storm God by Sandpaper on Strings.

Aurora | Tahraim & Tynan, Tahraim & Caliban

(Spoilers for Aurora Chapter 18/Tynan arc aftermath!)

Tahraim’s new project -- character development for Tynan! Very, very fun dynamic and a solid understanding and interpretation of Tahraim’s character.

I left 3 comments, on chapters 1 - 3.

I also left 2 comments, one on each chapter of in which acting and lying are the same thing, really, part of the kintsugi series that I listed on Day 3!

Day 6: Try Something New!

Total: 1 comment

"...what happened?" You may ask. Uh. Drawing. Drawing happened. Just as I thought I wasn't even going to read anything today, Te Diligo updated! So I left a comment on the new chapter (and rambled in the tags of my reblog for good measure). Not on theme, but hey, no excuses just results!

In closing: wow leaving comments is fun actually. I was expecting to get through one or two days and then falter but barring the AO3 shutdown, there were no zero-comment days! Looking forward to the next time the comment fest comes around ^^

#just leave a comment fest #fic recs #fic list #long post #uhh. should i tag the fandoms #genshin impact #precure #comic aurora #drawtectives #avatar the last airbender #im sorry to atla fans i only have one rec but it's really good. and the same author has another zuko-centric au that i didn't get to reread-#-in time for the fest. go check it out it's called 'heart of a dragon'#if anyone has a similar event but with art/drawings lemme know. i'd love to get better at commenting on art too

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faithfromanewperspective · 6 months

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Religious hurt, ministry burnout and all in between set to 5sos5 // Prologue: You don’t go to parties

I realise this is a rather strange thing to do, what I’m doing. I realise most listeners to songs don’t apply them to the things that I do. But I went through a lot, and this album is like none I’ve heard before: it celebrates and laments and everything in between the power of simple human connection and I won’t lie: it changed my life. It gave me back the pieces and tools to take my life back from a rogue machine of parts that was sucking me dry yet I couldn’t find head or tail of nor differentiate it from the hand that was feeding me, keeping me alive. In some ways, I owe it nothing: the $19.99 I fully paid on my debit card to iTunes that probably gave the four dear humans who created this album maybe a dollar each. In some ways I owe it everything. And so this letter is for you, the strange conglomeration of fandom and random humans I’ve connected to and who don’t know my face or my real name but I enjoy baring my whole heart to. It’s the mark of an artist I suppose. It’s the early symptoms of the fever dreams that allow practical neighbours with my childhood to come up with the visceral imagery that makes up these masterpieces: four voices, and a handful of instruments. I don’t have something nearly as brand-new and original, but this is my voice. And this is how YDGTP gave back my life.

Picture this: it’s 5am. Somewhere, certainly not where I am, but it might as well be when I’m far too tired for 10, 11pm when I’m barely over 20. I’m feeling stuck, overwhelmed, unable to go home, clock off, head to bed. I’d say I’m on my couch but that’s an optimistic statement to assume I have the ability to make it to something soft to lay down my head. I don’t even own a couch.

I’m supposedly somewhere that’s home to me, but if I had any sense in my head I’d kick me out. Out to where? I have no idea.

I wouldn’t even admit it to myself then, but I knew somewhere that I was happiest when I got up before the sun. 5am, after seven to eight hours of sleep. Maybe more, when I’m so tired and drained. In the early hours of the morning (and I feel like I’m betraying this song by saying it) before the world has risen with its expectations, if I can get my life together then, I’m prepared for when I have to interact and feel their energy. I’m also prepared to get my needs met, which they obviously aren’t, or I wouldn’t still be here now.

How am I feeling? Don’t get me started on that. I’m starving, empty, longing for something I haven’t felt satiated in for quite a while. Longing for a bygone time that wasn’t any good, because if I could go back now I could do better with the information I have now. And yet, the world is moving past, the people from that era drifting further and further away. Whatever it is I’m holding my breath for, is starting to feel like I’m waiting at an intersection where the gaps between the cars are getting smaller and smaller and each time I see one I could maybe go in I don’t. I wish I had gone in the previous one, because it was much safer compared to this. That’s basically what my life’s like. I’ve got the last five years running out my mouth. Won’t you relive it with me? Won’t you fix them with me?

Because I still think about the times we were heavy. It sucked, but at least there was connection, something that I’ve run completely dry on now. Racehorse tripping on the dirt that you’ve got on me. I never felt included, loved, but sometimes being insulted is just as good as it means I’m part of the gang. They don’t do that anymore: is it because I’m too fragile now, or because they’ve moved on from me? Vulture circling above of what’s left of me. Because I’m a carcass in the hot sun, at least that’s how I feel. Slowly, not slowly at all actually, rotting.

We go stupid every night, and it was meant to be fun. But.

What a tragedy. Because I’m still here in the darkness, back where we started. It set everyone else up to move on, why can’t I? Everyone else goes home and goes to bed and doesn’t suffer the consequences of the night disabling them forever, going back to the start again and again and re-living it and changing what they’d do because I know better now than I did then, time ticking by me and getting more and more behind. I can’t help the fact that I’m behaving the way that I am.

You make me a heartless monster.

So set this to a fun beat and go dance. Everyone I ever knew is standing in my house. (Are they real, or are they ghosts of people I feel like I failed, when I was never given the resources to be everything they needed?) Maybe I’ll be alright, maybe I’ll be able to put together whatever makes me feel better, maybe, maybe, I said as I invited them, filling up my heart again and again with relational one-night stands and superficial connection just to feel the high for a little while, it’s kept me going for decades. Kept me moving so I can forget that I had it the way I liked it once and I never appreciated it, I didn’t know that I had to. I didn’t know how much it meant until I lost it. I thought I was just fielding distractions, fatal attractions, but maybe the only attraction that was fatal was the one to the world of ableism and the solutions that they said worked for them when I know I need more connection than this superficial world, even one that says they worship something else, lives for something more, can offer. I wonder who I’m looking for.

But you got out. You don’t go to parties anymore.

It’s easier to get manic than depressed sometimes, maybe because I’m already depressed and I learned from young to act like I’m not feeling it. To think of others, think of ways I can help, prioritise hope and isn’t this what I’m doing here? Working towards solutions, why oh why did it go so badly? So I focus on the ideas, I let them stack up in my brain like a tap that’s running at full blast into a tiny plastic cup and when it drowns me just for a little while I get high and life is exciting and come up with good ideas of the world I imagine could be where I’m not alone, up in the clouds I’m not the only one dreaming of this dream. All my friends are up on mars. We’ve been travelling. It’s such a simple explanation and so exciting and it’s exactly how I should be feeling when I’m pouring myself out into something I care so much about, something centred on helping people, as if in a divinely inspired book we have all the solutions for all the world when we read it through a lens of science and adaptive management that constantly re-evaluates the fruits of what we’re doing and doesn’t let silly traditions that sap our energy get in our way. Shoot for mars. Why, oh why, does no one else stand with me here? Why am I still longing for that kind of teamwork, belonging, purpose?

So I lost my limit. It’s hard to find it when I’m so perpetually starved for the thing I need, that I try to make sure everyone around me gets. I’m dumb and I’m passionate. I care. And what’s the sacrifice of one person in the scheme of things? It’s not an accident. I was the one who took my foot up off the brake. Another lonely night.

It’s easier to put a smile on my face and go through the motions to this happy beat, yearning, pouring out the passion and love I wish I received on others.

Fill it with the best country drum solo I ever heard.

And remember where I am. Longing for connection. Where are you? Where is the one who I’m looking for?

But I know. You don’t go to parties anymore.

And that’s why I need to leave.

#personal mental health tag #burnout #ministry burnout #bipolar awareness #ydgtp #you don't go to parties #5 seconds of summer #5sos5 #if you're here because of the 5sos tags try not be too weirded out #i kinda can't believe i did this but it's a whole thing. more to come #youth ministry is actually just a party #that is built to be supportive #until you're giving of yourself i guess and that was me

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xbunny-k · 2 years

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The Actor & I: PART TWENTY – Ana, What ARE You Doing? Get Off Of Him

This is part TWENTY of a very long, SLOW BURN series on Austin Butler and a Production Assistant on set of Elvis (2022).

Masterlist here!

Anything italicized is main character’s thoughts!

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, eventual Spoilers for Elvis (2022), language (If i missed anything, please comment so i can add!)

Tags: @manddor @pumkiinpasties @its-funny-til-its-not @karamelcoveredolicity @butlerstyles @feral4austinbutler @mirandastuckinthe80s @emilykolchivans @atombombbibunny @francescababy @starry-night-20 @yeetfack-blog @milaa24 @londonalozzy @xo-aurora @chaoticbilly @mamaspresley @sageskywalker @cryingabtab (Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

Please, if you like this, share it, comment, like it and enjoy! xx

I get ready quickly making myself presentable, but as if I didn’t do anything. I put on some lotion, perfume and then put on a different white, crop tank and some white biker shorts. I head to the kitchen and Austin is sitting at the island. He looks up at me and smiles. I look at his breakfast spread he made and say, “Oh my god, eggs and turkey bacon with avocado toast is literally my dream breakfast.” He laughs and says, “Sit.” I feel my cheeks burn at his demand and sit next to him.

After we eat breakfast, I do the dishes and he jumps on the counter next to me. “So where am I buying your groceries at,” he asks. I giggle and say, “Well my Sunday routine is usually the farmer’s market, Erewhon and then Trader Joe’s.” He smiles and says, “let’s do it.” We spend the day together running errands and I’m a little sad when we finish up at Trader Joe’s. I’ve been with him for well over 10 hours and it doesn’t feel like long enough. We pull back to my place and he helps me carry up all the groceries. He seems to linger in my kitchen and as I’m putting away cans in a cabinet, I lean on my tippy toes to get to the space I need, he comes behind me and grabs it to put it up for me. I can feel him growing hard as he leans into me pinning me between the counter and his groin. I feel my cheeks warm up and I let out a soft moan without meaning to. Ana, keep it together. He brings his hand down from the can and puts it on my shoulder. I didn’t know putting away groceries could be so…erotic?

He rubs my shoulder slowly and then pulls himself away from me. My body instantly misses feeling him pushed into my backside. I see him pacing around my kitchen island and wonder what he’s thinking. He clearly has some attraction to me. Maybe he also is uncomfortable we work together. Ana, he just broke up with his girlfriend… of 8 years…. He isn’t interested in you.

I smile at him and he says, “I’m kinda sad I have to leave.” I look at him and he genuinely looks sad. I say, “Well we could watch some Elvis footage I have to bring to you since I pretended to have it dropped off the first time.” I giggle and he smiles, “Lead the way, my hero.” I giggle, but immediately turn red. My cheeks are on fire as I realize this means he remembers me saying this same thing about him this morning…

I grab us some sparkling water and glasses as I head to the living room. I place the water on the coffee table and head to my TV to set up the converted footage they gave me on Blu-Ray. “I think we can start with this footage and that way the projector and reels are all easy for you to take home with you,” I say as I mess with my very inexpensive Blu-Ray player hoping it works. I have to mess with the wires behind the TV and as I’m essentially on all fours messing with wires, I feel Austin get up and come behind me. “Do you need help,” Austin says as he takes in a deep breath. I turn my head to look back at him and giggle, “Every time I use this, I have to mess with the wires until it randomly connects.” I assume he’s going to just take over, so I go to back up, but instead he leans forward to help me, so I back straight into him. My ass is straight in his crotch and I back right into it.

Instead of doing the responsible thing and getting out of this suggestive position, I push my ass back a bit even further into what feels like an erection. Ana, what are you doing? We went over this….you cannot play with fire here. Your job. I hear him swallow a bit and I decide to listen to my subconscious to back off. “Sorry, let me just move and you can play electrician for me,” I giggle as I roll out from underneath him. He sighs and kind of looks disappointed. Am I imagining things? He looks a bit let down. I’m sitting next to him on the floor and realize I had brought the remote with me to the floor and it’s now on the opposite side of Austin.

Ok, you can either reach under him or get up to get the remote. You know the more professional, friendly decision, Ana. I go against my better judgement and reach my arm under Austin and pull for the remote. It’s a bit further than I realized, and I slide my body under him a bit. I giggle and I hear him swallow a bit. I get the remote and as I’m sliding my body out from under him, he puts his hand on my shoulder stopping me. He opens his mouth to say something, but the TV lights up and starts playing the sound from the disc I had put in. “Success,” I giggle and pull myself out from under him. “Thank you, Mr. Presley,” I giggle and head back to the couch.

We spend a few hours watching various footage, interviews and performances of Elvis and eventually it’s dark out. As the current disc we’re watching ends, he looks over at me. We’re both laying down with our legs on the couch, but opposite ends, facing each other. He playfully hits my foot and says, “Ya know for such a small person, you have big feet.” I immediately pull my feet back and sit up as I say, “Hey! My feet are not big!” He laughs at my reaction and sits up but crawls on the couch towards me as he teases, “I think my new nickname for you is Bigfoot.” I giggle, “Nooooo that’s so ugly!” I pull my feet towards myself, but he grabs one and pulls it towards him.

In doing so, he pulls my full body towards him and he’s now kneeling over me with both my legs between him as he hovers over me. I giggle and say, “You can’t call me bigfoot it’s not nice.” He smiles and his eyes darken as he scans my body beneath him. His gaze lingers on my stomach and then he looks further down. Well he’s not looking at my feet… maybe thin white biker shorts with no underwear to hang out with essentially your boss wasn’t a good idea, Ana.

I go to pull myself up and as the clumsy girl I am, I begin to buckle over, but Austin grabs me and pulls me into him as he sits up. This maneuver lands me right on top of him, seated in his lap facing him on my couch. I can instantly feel him growing hard beneath me. His erection is pressing in between my legs and I let out a slight moan without even thinking.

Ana, what ARE you doing? Get off of him. This is the opposite of professional. The man just got out of an eight year relationship… and you work FOR him.

I look into his eyes and they’re dark, staring at me. His lips are parted and I can hear him breathing. I bite down on my bottom lip and look down at where his erection is growing into me and when I look back at him, his eyes are even darker and he’s biting down hard on his bottom lip. I go to get off his lap as reality waves over me, but he holds my back and keeps me seated on his lap. What is he doing? We have to keep this professional… for my sake.

“Ana, I know you feel it too... There’s something there between us… But I don’t know what to do… It’s your job… My first big job…,” he says as he sighs and continues to take in my body on top of him. He groans a bit and then starts sliding his hand down my back. Breathe, Ana, breathe. He might be hot and funny and smart, but is he worth losing your job in your dream industry over? “Anastasia, all I want to do is kiss you… and you have no idea what other things I think about doing with you, to you…,” he whispers. Fuck, he is so hot. I just want to… He interrupts my thoughts by whispering, “I can’t do anything with you. It isn’t right with what’s coming up for us both…” Ana, you knew this… Why am I so disappointed?

I sigh and I can tell he sees the disappointment on my face, Austin softly rubs my cheek and says, “Anastasia, it isn’t you… it’s quite the opposite, baby.” Baby… I feel myself burn bright red. All I can muster up to say is, “Ok, Aus” and I slide off his lap. He sighs, holds my hand and rubs my hand with his fingers lightly. Austin looks disappointed as well. He sighs, stands up and instead of letting go of my hand, he pulls me off the couch and up into a hug. It’s a tight hug that feels different than other hugs we’ve shared. He whispers in my ear, “I barely know you, but I know this isn’t what I really want Anastasia.” I look up at him and he hugs me tighter.

Why does it feel like I’ve known him for years? If he feels like that too… I blush and disappointment waves over me again. He kisses the top of my head and I swear I forget how to breathe for a moment. Why does this feel like…. a break up? “I’m gonna go since it’s getting late, but I’ll text you, ok, Anastasia,” he whispers. My heart sinks. I don’t want him to go… almost 24 hours together and it’s not enough. Once again, I can’t really find the words so all I can get out is, “Ok.” He pulls back a little from our hug and pulls my chin up so I’m looking at him. His eyes go dark, he teeth sink into his bottom lip and it feels as if he’d kiss me, but he rubs my cheek with his thumb. He lets go of me and walks towards the door. Before he makes it to the door, he turns around and says, “Thank you for a perfect night and Sunday, Anastasia.” He opens the door and leaves.

Fuck, I think I really like him… This is bad… I burst into tears and I know it’s because I feel overwhelmed. I really do like him… But he just got out of a long-term, serious relationship. He could probably get back together with her… We work together. He’s technically who I work for. This is not a good situation, but it’s just the way I feel when I’m with him… has never happened to me before. I’ve never felt so conflicted.

I know my job is the more important thing here, but I can’t stop thinking about how fast I felt this way towards Austin, and we now have literal years of work together ahead of us…

What am I gonna do?

#austin butler elvis #austin butler #austin butler fic #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #elvis 2022 #elvis movie #fan fic #fan fiction

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zoeykallus · 2 years

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Tech - Thank You For Loving Me 28 - Daddy Tech

Tech x Fem!Reader FF

_______________

Some time has passed and your little daughter is growing fast and she seems to have a lot of genetic traits of her father, she is developing motor skills and speech very early and pretty fast.

Echo and you are on the road, a little sightseeing, something to eat and so on, to unwind a bit. Since you're alone with Amy most of the time, Tech has offered to take over parenting duties completely and solely for this one day so you can recharge your batteries. Somehow he wasn't really prepared for that. Amy's got a pretty good handle on her daddy.

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Big thanks to @600yearoldlovecraftianhorrorshow who did the beta reading!

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Warnings: Very Fluffy / Daddy Tech (duh ;P )

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What Happened Before:

Nervous Flutter

Part 2 - Help Me To Let Go

Part 3 - Asking For Advice

Part 4 - Devotion

Part 5 - The Explorer

Part 6 - You’re The Best

Part 7 - Experimental (½)

Part 8 - Experimental (2/2) - Not Fully Functional

Part 9 - Not Alone

Part 10 - Cared For

Part 11 - Don’t You Worry

Part 12 - A White Lie

Part 13 - Hope

Part 14 - Games To Play

Part 15 - Work Work Work

Part 16 - Trouble

Part 17 - In Loving Domination (½)

Part 18 - The Game Changer

Part 19 - Wild Animal

Part 20 - Embarrassing Vulnerabilities

Part 21 - Between Hangover And Love

Part 22 - The Future Ahead Of Us

Part 23 - About Making A Baby

Part 24 - It’s Going To Be Okay

Part 25 - Returning A Favor

Part 26 - Baby Fever

Part 27 - A New Life

Part 28 - Daddy Tech

The first few months were stressful for both of you. Everything was new and unfamiliar, but Tech found a rhythm surprisingly quickly, which made everyday life easier for both of you. Amy was a relatively calm child, slept through the night early and didn't cry much. She was, generally, surprisingly uncomplicated. The first two years went by pretty quickly, almost frighteningly so. Suddenly, Amy wasn't quite so calm and uncomplicated anymore.

"Amy?"

Tech walked through the Marauder looking for your daughter. She had wanted to watch him work, but quickly got bored and sneaked off when Tech was distracted. She liked to hide on the ship, and liked to force Tech and his brothers to look for her.

"Amelia? This isn't funny anymore. Little lady, come on out."

You were traveling with Echo today. The last few days you had spent full time with your little Amy, you needed a little break, at least a few hours, talking to adults and acting like an adult to recharge the batteries a bit.

Tech had never really been alone with Amy before, but he though that it couldn't be too hard. He had said quite candidly that you were welcome to spend the day with Echo. He had it under control.

But now it didn't feel quite like that.

The Marauder was no playground. Amy could very well get hurt here. Slowly but surely, panic began to creep up Tech's spine.

"Amy, please!” he called, “Amy where are you? Daddy's been looking for you for so long!"

He heard a soft, muffled giggle. So she was nearby. Energetically, he shifted his goggles and concentrated.

"Amy? Little Amy? Where are you, my little monkey?"

Another giggle.

He peered around a corner.

"HA! There you are!"

Amy's dark curls bounced excitedly as she giggled and squealed. She had definitely inherited her hair from the clone gene pool.

"You took out your hair clips again," Tech noted with a sigh.

Amy grinned from ear to ear, pressed the pretty hair clips with the sparkles into his hand and said, "I don't like them"

"But why not?"

"They pishi"

"’Pishi’? What is that... Do you mean ‘pinch’?"

Amy nodded and darted between Tech's long legs into the hallway.

"Wait, don't run away again!" he called after her, nearly desperate.

Amy was moving a little too spiritedly. Even though her motor skills were already well developed for her two-and-a-half years, she stumbled and fell down on her knees on the metal floor.

"Oh dear," Tech muttered, and a moment later he heard the bitter crying.

"It's okay, honey, it's okay," he said gently, taking her carefully in his arms and stroking her back.

"Come on, you can sit on my workbench and we'll see if you hurt yourself".

"Mommy! Mommy!" Amy cried, and Tech felt guilty that he hadn't been paying more attention. But kids fall down every now and then, and there was no stopping that.

"Daddy's right here, Amy", Tech said, concerned and gently sat her down on his workbench.

"I want Mommy," she said through her sobs, sniffling.

Tech asked her gently, "Don't you love Daddy too?"

Amy thought for a moment, then said, "Yes I do, but when I have ouches I like Mommy better."

Tech smiled and said, "But Daddy knows a lot better about boo-boos"

Amy looked at him doubtfully.

"Really?"

Tech nodded and looked at her knees. They were slightly red, but there were no open wounds or scratches. Amy had mostly been scared, not hurt. He smiled at his daughter in relief.

"No visible ouches, but I can put some ointment on your knees and hands if you want, it's nice and cool, then it will stop hurting very soon."

Amy's face was still wet with tears, but she was already distracted again. She’d spotted the cup of lollipops Tech had standing on his workbench. Whenever she was particularly good, or learned something new, she got one. She reached for the cup with a pouty sideways glance at her Daddy.

"Daddy, can I have a lollipop now?"

Tech just gently stroked the ointment on her tiny knees and looked at her little face.

"Okay, honey, as an exception."

"Lollipops? Hahaha! Is there another one for me?" rumbled Wrecker, stomping into the room.

"Uncle Wekaaah!"

Wrecker laughed heartily.

"Hey Tiny! How's it going? Oh my! Who has tears all over their face?"

Amy pointed to her knees, "Fell down. Ouch."

"Really? Good thing your daddy knows so much about ouches!"

Amy beamed and held out one of the lollipops, which Wrecker gratefully accepted, before opening one for herself and popping it in her mouth.Tech lovingly wiped her face clean with a damp cloth and kissed her on the forehead.

"See, all is well again"

"Thank you, Daddy."

She then looked directly at Wrecker and asked, "Can we play with Lula and Mimi?"

Wrecker laughed. "Sure, if it's okay with your daddy," he said.

Lula was still Wrecker's stuffed animal. Mimi was Amy's stuffed animal. Sometimes, Wrecker would play a kind of puppet show with his niece.

Tech smiled, actually pleased that Amy was once again somewhat distracted.

"Of course. But you stay close to Uncle Wrecker. Don't run away again".

Amy solemnly raised her little hand and said, "I promise."

@ben-is-a-hoe

@kaminocasey

@nunanuggets

@hypnoash

@brynhildrmimi

@livi-s

@ttzamara

@thebadbatchscyare

@rexandechosandwich

@mybigfatspoonielife

@clone-whore-99 @chxpsi

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

@andyoufollowyourheart

@kaliel2310

@misogirl828

@tech-deck

@loverofclones

@thebahdbitch

@meshla-madalene

@stardusthuntress

@ladykatakuri

@thebahdbitch

@tech-deck

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