#a few are smaller than my fingernail

[humanmorph]

lately i keep writing posts and going 'wait, do i really need to share this? isnt it fine to just keep this for myself and not an audience online?' and then i delete them. anyways i decided i DO want you to look at this toad (erdkröte) (bufo bufo)

a lovely type of beaft : ]

#i also have a picture of a frog from a few days ago that does pair nicely with this one. the frog is so so small #but that one i wont post. just imagine it. it was just a little smaller than my thumbs fingernail... tiny #rosa rambles #its also a good picture IMO. nice greens... #maybe a toad would make a good linolcut motive actually. hmmm #toads

[pedge-page]

i love your preggo wife drabbles soo much!!! could you write one where joel takes care of reader with her morning sickness? 🫶🏻

Joel dealing with Preggo Reader: Morning Sickness

Notes: Idk why I keep making reader so mean but he's such a trooper! I'm also no pregnancy expert obviously so plz take my minimal effort in research with a grain of salt.

Warnings: mean reader, language, vomitting, morning sickness

- - - -

"I hate your penis."

Joel rolls his eyes. It's only the 11th time you've said it today while being hunched over the toilet, with Joel caringly hovering over you, holding your hair out of the way as you take a deep breath and hurl the breakfast he made you this morning.

"I hate—"

"I know, sweet pea. Just breathe."

You nod in an almost drunken state. He knows its because you've got no energy in you to really fight him, with the baby giving you all the first batch of hell in the life long journey of headaches in child bearing.

He rubs over your spin, caressing the shivers raking over your body so you can focus on not dying right now.

"I hate your toes. I hate your shampoo. I hate your fingernails. I hate your toast.  I hate—"

"Ah huh..."

At first he was pretty upset and angered by how much you loath him, but at some point he's tuned it out and just holds and shushes you. While you pout your disdain for the man, you don't oppose his touch.

For now.

"Doin' so good, baby. It's only temporary, baby's just making sure you're a tough momma—"

"Shut the fuck up and get me some water."

Joel stands, his knees reminding him of his less than youthful age, before running downstairs and grabbing a bottle.

You were both a little surprised that all the morning sickness you were warned about hadn't really given either of you trouble in your first trimester. It came with a surprise by the middle of your second, and comes and goes on a daily basis. Today is honestly not so bad: it's your attitude shift that really gives him whiplash.

By the time he gets back up, you're already meandering out of the bathroom like a lost soul with puffy, sleep deprived eyes, and over to the bed, slowly crawling over the mattress, muttering "too tall". You feel his hand supportively on your back, but you snap "fuck off" and get in the bed yourself. He goes to tuck you in with the sheet, but again your hand slaps his away and you close your eyes into darkness.

You can still feel his annoying presence. "What!" You yell, eyes shooting open to see the bottle dangling from his hand. You snatch it without a thank you and gulp.

Joel's just got his hands on his hips, staring at you.

"Kern I hEp ouu, Hondah?" You gurgle through your water sloshing in your mouth.

He just chuckles to himself. "You're cute like this."

You swallow. "I'll fuck you the fuck up."

He laughs even harder, seemingly unserious in your threats. To him, you looked even smaller than before, despite the obvious roundness growing in your tum tum. You seemed like some small puppy finding her growl, or toddler pointing her finger trying to be intimidating but unaware of how badly you're failing.

"So amusing? Why dont you make yourself useful and rub my feet," you demand.

"You need to eat food, baby girl."

"BaBy GiRl" you mock with puppet hand mouth. "NAG nag NAG. I Don't WANT food. I want my FOOT. In your HAND. before I put it up your ASS."

Joel can tolerate the baby cock-blocking him for a few weeks and the endless assult of your words, but he puts his foot down when your basic needs arent being met. "I need you to eat food. You need energy. Baby needs energy."

"Fine! Crackers, you crackhead. Then—" and you thrust your leg in the hair and wiggle your foot in his face so he gets the picture.

"Okay okay!" And he walks out the bedroom.

Joel spends a record 4 minutes downstairs hurriedly putting together a fancy array of cracker options, from Saltines, to Townhouse, to Ritz. He also pops a few cubes of diced ham in his mouth and then holds a few in his hand to snack on later since he too had to abandon breakfast to service you.

By the time you're conplaining "it's been hours!" He's trotting up the stairs, you wiggle your bum so you sit upright in bed, hand over gurgling belly as he brings the tray to you.

Just as youre about to feast on these dry ass cardboard squares, your nose twitches. You see Joel chewing something in his grasp, popping one cube of pale meat quickly into his mouth, and it takes all of 2 seconds for the smell to travel to your brain before you're throwing the tray on the ground, crackers spilling all over the carpet and b lining to the bathroom again to throw up.

As he hears your dramatic gasps and hurls, Joel pulls out his little note pad he's been documenting your pregnancy so far. He writes "no ham" in the lines , right under "hates my penis", before tossing the paper on the bed and stroking your hair lovingly again as you empty your entire organs in the toilet.

By the time you finish, you've got snot and tears running down your face. "but I LOVED HAAAMMMMM" You screech.

It's true. You used to wrap a thick spread of cold butter on a slice of cheap deli ham and eatnit like a cannoli— something he thought was a weird aquired taste BEFORE he even got you pregnant.

Joel grabs a tissue and plants it firmly in your face, and you squeeze your eyes tight and blow right into his palm like a little snot nosed trumpet. He rubs his fingers in your nostrils to get all the boogers out before tossing it and helping you up to your feet again.

All the while you're bawling "l-l-loved—my hh-ham—n cheese" with gross babbling as he tucks you back in the duvet. You were fine with giving up other aversions like tomatoes, pizza crust, and yogurt. Even sex (occasionally). But your beloved ham is one baby step too far.

"Your—"sniffle— "big—"hiccup—"ugly—"choke—"WORM —" cough—"DID THIS TO MEEE," you accuse his crotch and wail into the air.

Then you hiccup very loudly and go quiet entirely.

You look around with curious eyes, fresh tears suddenly unbothering you at the moment.

"Mmmmmmmn crackers," you moan. "Gimme that one," and you point to the mess on the floor.

"What one?"

"That one!"

He bends down and picks up a piece.

But you shake your head. "No that one."

"No." "No the other." "No."

"Which one!" He shouts, unable to contain the lace of frustration.

"The one I'm pointing to, stupid!"

He finally picks up one hes pointed to 3 times already and you clap your hands.

You snatch it out of his grasp, pull a hair off its curved cracked edge before munching on it happily.

He looks at with uncertainty on his face.

You swallow the dry mushed bits and hum contently. "Mmm. Salty."

-

Not even 12 hours later  you two are getting ready for bed, and you mood has completely changed. Still sick, but instead of being unable to stand Joel's entire existence, you praise it.

"Joel, honey? Can you please prop my feet up Under this pillow. I'm sorry. I just can't seem to reach it myself."

"Baby? I'm a little thirsty. Can you get me some water?"

"Im so sorry, Joel. I just can't stomach this food, I know you put so much effort into it. Ugh! I loved this, I really did! I don't know what's wrong with me."

You rub over the discomfort in your slightly swollen tummy and try to be a brave girl and fight the tears, as Joel's been so attentive to your needs, aches, cries and cravings, only to hurl them back up.

You sniffle and look up to him.

He's a bit tense, almost in a fight or flight stance with fear behind his eyes.

"W-whats wrong, Joel?" you ask with a honey song voice.

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

- - - -

Permanent taglist :

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96

#pedro pascal smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #last of us smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us fic #last of us fic #joel dealing with preggo wife

[t-tomuras]

Pairing: Dabi | Touya Todoroki x F!reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: Oral ( reader receiving ), virginity loss ( reader ), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, light biting / nipping, aftercare, if I missed anything let me know.

Notes: I havent written him in almost 2 years, Im glad its something kinda soft for my beloved @ghostbeam

“What’s a good girl like you want from a guy like me?” A teasing sentence, said with a lidded gaze and lazy smile, a half smoked cigarette half haphazardly dangling from long digits. Exhaled along with his plume of smoke before he takes another drag. You’d seen him around, lingering on the fringes of your vision seemingly everywhere you went now. 

Finally approaching him after extended eye contact where neither of you chose to look away after being caught. He wasn’t shy in the slightest, his smirk and soft chuckle before looking forward again urging your feet towards him. 

“What makes you think I’m so good?” Voice high and cute, higher than he’s heard before from his eavesdropping. Your smile is more alluring up close.

“I know ‘em when I see ‘em doll,” the man takes a final drag before flicking the but off his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out beneath his leather boot, “names Dabi.” 

You smile, tell him your name and it feels like your fate is sealed then. Encountering him in public more frequently whether it be seeing him propped in an alleyway leisurely before you garner his attention by the call of his name or unceremoniously nudging against him. Standing close to him and following him into the parts of town you never would’ve thought to venture to before; encouraged only by the jerk of his head accompanied by his lazy smirk and lidded gaze. 

Altering your everyday life after only a few short interactions, staged for you to think you’ve encountered him organically when, truthfully, Dabi had sought you out. It wasn’t hard, it was easy to figure out your routine, where you liked to frequent. You liked to visit the park often, take the scenic route on your way into town while running errands and before long you’d look to the shadows and the shade for him or any dark corners with a smile on your face. 

So trusting and compliant with a virtual stranger like himself and one that never strayed too far into the sunlight, never exposed too much of his skin until you were in the deserted parts of the city with him. You’ve never asked about his burns, only if it hurts but you chewed your lip when he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger the first and only time he answered you. Pulling at the plump flesh with an intense gaze before the burning turquoise met your gaze once more with the cool breeze of his voice, “can’t feel a thing.” 

Exciting and captivating you further, entranced by the enigma that he was and at first, Dabi could admit he found you fun. Engaging with you out of pure happenstance, a passing whim to continue to subtly garner your attention. 

A mistake to continue to revel in it.  

But he wants to be a little selfish. Can’t help it, not with how you fill any silence between you with idle chatter but it never feels bothersome. Dabi likes the sound and begins to prefer it and your company over that of the other members of the league; making up the excuse that’s why he follows you around on your mundane errands with his sunglasses on and his collar pulled high over his chin.

Unaware of the actual scope of the effect you’ve had on him until he asks you for a second time, on a random day as he sits on the floor of your bedroom while you paint his nails. “What’s a good girl like you want from a guy like me?” 

He says it with his usual bored tone and you simply shrug your shoulders without looking up. Smaller fingers holding tightly to the healthy part of his hands as you carefully paint the matte black polish onto his fingernails. 

Maybe you wanted to piss off your father, hell if only you knew how much he understood you there. But you, oh bringing you home he’s certain that’s something his father would have agreed was a good decision. Idly, especially when you look up momentarily to smile at him with those glittering eyes of yours, he’s more than certain his mother would have loved you before he swipes away the insidious thoughts. He has no business having them, that wasn’t a life for him anymore, nor was one he could even offer you but he’s lost in you. 

Craves it the more he sneaks away to indulge in your company, morphed the desire to hear sweeter sounds. Honeyed moans and breathy sighs, his lids fluttering every time you gasp for innocent reasons only feeding the visions of himself pulling them from you provocatively. It spurs his movements now, moves his muscles as he retracts his hand from you even though you’ve barely finished the final coat to the last nail. Too far gone to back off, in too deep not to satiate his hunger he’d unknowingly cultivated. 

Dabi takes the applicator from your hand and barely deposits it safely back into his home, muffling your confusion by sealing his lips over yours. 

He’s kissed you before, chaste but just as spontaneous as this one; not nearly as deep and charged with intent. The way you melt so easily into him paired with the soft sound he pulls from you is the final nail in his coffin. Dabi couldn’t hold back now if he wanted to. 

His body presses into yours, broad palm slipping to the small of your back as he lays you down with the other hand moves from cupping your jaw to caress the curve of your skull. Tilting you to his liking while he slots between your thighs, pressing into your center as his tongue swipes over yours greedily to earn the sweet moans that have plagued him. 

But it’s when he rolls his hips into yours, when you feel his growing rigidity that you tense and push hesitantly at his chest. Dabi instantly pulls back, jared from his trance as he looks at you with darkened hues, panting for breath as he searches your features. You roll your bottom lip between your teeth, attempting to find the words but failing as the blood that roars in your ears also heats your skin. Anxious to tell him your inexperience but Dabi chuckles, leaning back and shushing you as he scoots back on your plush carpet. 

“I’ve got you,” a low purr as he carefully pulls at your flimsy shorts, slow and deliberate as you raise your hips to aid him in the action, “always bite your lip when you’re nervous by the way.” 

“No I don’t,” as you catch yourself performing the tell before you pinch the bridge of your nose, “shut up.” 

He chuckles at that, pulling down your underwear next as he settles on his stomach. Deft digits massaging into the opposite thigh of the one his cheek now rests on, playfully blowing cool breath onto your exposed sex. Fixing you with a hungry gaze as you prop yourself onto your forearms, thighs trembling with the urge to bring your knees together. 

Dabi gives a lazy grin, leaning close with a slow blink and you can feel his breath fan over you, “make me.” Only able to choke on a surprised squeak when he places a kiss to your throbbing bud before his lips wrap around it. Sucking gingerly as a tease until your head lolls back with a breathy sigh. 

Goading him to turn it into a long moan like he’s desired. Flicking the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue before dropping his jaw to suck at your cunt fully. Splitting your folds with his tongue as your thighs clamp around his head, the vibrations of his low hum sending shocks of electricity up your spine and overwhelming your senses quickly. The cool feel of his staples bite into the fat of your inner thigh, adding a contrastingly delightful feel to his treatment. Fanning the flames into an inferno in your veins as your hips start to roll into his face. 

Calling his name in quick babbles before long, bringing your hand over your mouth in an attempt to quiet the sweet moans only for Dabi to grab at your wrist. Glaring at you over your mound as he sucks harshly at your clit in warning, forcing your lips apart in a throaty moan at the feel. 

It’s when you feel his fingers tease at your entrance, prod carefully at the tight ring before slipping his ring finger in to the first knuckle that you cum for the first time. Making Dabi groan himself, eyes rolling as he continues to push into your fluttering hole. Pressing up into the velvet walls so your hips buck harshly into his mouth and out of sync with the laps of his tongue until his long digit is buried to the last knuckle. 

Arching when you feel his index added just as slowly, squeezing his head again with a whimper as he scissors his fingers and twists his wrist. Drinking in the sweet taste of your cunt, your juices dribbling down his chin by the second time he brings you to release. Leaning up to push at his head, nails scratching delicately at his scalp, “Dabi, please.” 

Begging for mercy or more, neither of your are sure but you’re exhausted from his treatment for certain. 

“I hear ya, baby,” his voice a deeper timber, kissing your clit as he rises from between your thighs. You fall flat onto your back, chest slightly heaving as you rest. Peeking with a tilt of your head when you head the clinking of his belt buckle, watching intently as his thumbs dip into the waistband of his boxerbriefs after he’s unzipped and unbuttoned his pants.

“Enjoying the show?” Dabi tuts playfully, angling his jaw as he slips the loose material of his jeans to pool around his knees first. Dipping down and taking your lips in a kiss, letting his tongue caress yours to give you a full taste of yourself on him as he frees himself of his bottoms completely. Kicking away the jeans with a noisy clatter from his chunky belt and leaving them in a heap. 

His hand slips between your bodies, grasping his shaft as his thumb spreads the beading pre from his weeping slit. Pumping languidly before aligning himself with your slit, rutting to coat himself in your wetness with a pleased hiss. 

Dabi can feel you tense beneath him, gripping at his upper arm despite how you try and calm yourself. He’s confident in how he’s prepped you, you’re certain he’d take care of you. 

But the repeated reassurance is welcomed, appreciated, “relax. I’ve got you.” Whispered between peppered kisses more than once. 

“I know you do,” you respond quietly, letting your arms loop around his neck when you feel the fat tip prod at your still fluttering entrance. He kisses you more insistently as he presses forward, lips hard against yours as he distracts you from the initial stretch. Rutting his hips short and slowly to have you adjust to the size but he does well in having you focus on the pull of your hair. The scrape of his nails carefully at your scalp, teeth tugging at your bottom lip before he’s bottomed out in you. 

Unable to withhold the relieved groan at the snug fit, at the way your walls squeeze and pulse around his cock and you’re glad for it. It makes your heart soar that you feel as good for him as he does for you. You both share the thought, it means more than simply physically but that’s something for later on down the road. 

Dabi’s thighs tremble after a long moment, waiting for you to give him permission to please the both of you with bated breath. Kissing at your jaw and throat, nipping at your earlobe with his hands firmly holding your hips when you pull your hips back testingly. Not moving very far with the way his weight pushes you into the floor but it’s enough to make him hiss. 

You repeat the motion and Dabi mirrors you but with an obviously experienced angle. Exhaling a shaky breath while you moan long and sweet into his ears before he sets his pace. Slow at first until you begin to meet his thrusts, your legs wrapping around his hips to push your heel into the back of his thigh. “More Dabi, more.” 

And he’s always been a man eager to please, hastening the rut of his hips until each clap of skin is interrupting a moan instead of punctuating it. 

"Are...you ok? Is this pace good enough?" Panting with his effort and through the pleasure he feels, a lazy grin spreading on his lips as you nod emphatically while you clutch to him. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop baby please,” gasped and pitchy, music to his heats, his sac tightening with his impending climax. 

The hand that’s rested firmly on your hip now pushes you into each thrust now as you build to you both build to blissful rapture, singing his name in a sinful hymn. One Dabi finds he’ll fall to his knees for often to hear if you’ll let him. Spilling into you after his finally pointed thrust tips you over the edge, squeezing him tightly as your cunt pulses in time with the waves of euphoria that wash over you. 

Dabi thrusts into you lazily, hips slowing to a halt while he sighs in relief. Tacky with sweat and the room feels warm from the coupling but he still wants to be close to you. Withdrawing his spent cock from you and chuckling when a small whimper sounds in your throat as if you weren’t twitching with each of his final rolls a moment prior. 

He leans back in his haunches as you untangle yourself from him. Lying on your back as Dabi massaged his thumbs into your hips to soothe any soreness. 

“Feeling alright baby?” He asks even as he watches how the tension leaves your features before you nod to him with a pretty sigh and a tired smile on your lips. 

Head lolling to the side to watch him as his hands move to your thighs. Repeating the action idly to both appendages before he moves to get dressed. Gathering your clothes and then his own, lying on his side next to you after only slipping on his underwear. Reaching for your phone when you scoot closer to tuck into his chest. 

Lying quietly with him as he mindlessly scrolls through your socials with his free hand drawing indistinguishable patterns into your back. Wondering to yourself how a great guy like himself could ever think he’s bad for you.

#vixen drabbles #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi smut #touya x reader #touya x you #touya smut #touya todoroki smut #touya todoroki x reader

[hiskillingjar]

Hello! I really like your writing with Strade! If you’re up to it, can you come up with a scene where Strade is uncomfortably soft and gentle, talking to mc about movies and then tricks them into watching one of his livestreams.

okay so i saw this prompt, fucking loved it and did something completely different BUT in the same vein?? yes?? no??

whatever it's my blog

2300+ words, cw for uhhhhhh murder, snuff and necrophilia yayyy

"What're we watching?" Strade asked as he settled down next to you, cracking open a tall can of beer as he did so.

"Oh…j-just a movie."

You smiled politely, and awkwardly, as you adjusted yourself on the sofa, bringing your knees up to your chest and making yourself smaller as you pressed into the corner, giving him plenty of space to sit.

It had been a few months since the fateful night in the basement, since he'd collared and claimed you like an animal, and you were still a little…jumpy, to say the least.

And he obviously liked how jumpy you were, too.

"Heh, you're still so skittish. It's cute, you know." Strade chuckled pleasantly, reaching over to place a heavy arm around your shoulder and ruffling your hair as he did so. "Like you're my new, little pet or something, and I have to get you housetrained."

"Mph," You bit your lip as he pulled you in closer (thus negating your attempt to give him room), his side against yours, now running his fingers through your hair. "I guess so."

"And I still haven't gotten tired of it~" He teased, before taking a long swig from his can, smacking his lips as he swallowed, and lightly scratching the crown of your head with grubby fingernails. "So, what are you up to tonight?"

"Oh right," You sat up (not minding the contact as much as you should have), your eyes going back to the television. "I'm, um…like I said, I'm just watching a movie, just-" You swallowed as his fingers trailed down the back of your neck, towards your collar. "A horror movie."

"A horror movie, huh?" Strade smirked once more, his gaze softening with amusement for a moment as he started watching with you. An especially grisly scene was taking place when he walked in, a pair of giggling psychopaths filming a crying, bound woman as they taunted her with a knife, though he appeared less than interested as he watched. "And you're watching it all by yourself? Not scared?"

"No, I, uh…" You stammered as his hand gently curled around your neck. "I…I'm not scared. I don't get scared from movies, especially not movies like this."

"Oh, you don't?" Strade chuckled as he squeezed your neck, his eyes wandering down your body, to your thighs pressed to your chest, soft flesh spilling around your shorts. "Hm…that's pretty interesting, buddy. Don't you think that makes you kind of disturbed? Not reacting to…something so graphic?"

"It's…It's not that graphic." You murmured, though that was counteracted by just how grim the scene was becoming, as the tip of the knife toyed with flaps of skin and muscle. "I mean, it's kind of tame, actually. I've definitely seen worse."

"Hmm…" Strade thought about that for a second, taking yet another swig of his beer before setting it aside on the side table next to the couch. "Well, the fact that you can just…sit there and watch someone be killed and dismembered without flinching does seem a little…peculiar," He gave your head a teasing shake, chuckling. "And kind of ironic, ja?"

"Hmph," You pressed your knees a little tighter against your chest as you continued to watch the movie.

You didn't want to admit that he might have had a point…especially on the irony part.

"You know…we should test this out," Strade suggested after a few quiet moments of movie-watching, grinning widely before he stood to his feet and went searching for something in the cabinet beneath the TV, his body propped up on one knee. "See if you're really not scared of movies…"

"Test what? You asked.

"Well, these American films, they're cute but they are just," He started, his eyes going up as if searching for a word, a gesture he did somewhat often. "Lacking, right? They don't really get as visceral as they could, and everything just looks so fake anyway. No wonder you're not scared!"

"I guess," You shrugged your shoulders, watching as he sorted through a stack of DVDs and VHS tapes to find what he was looking for. You didn't say it, but you silently appreciate that in spite of many of his flaws, his collection of physical media was kind of impressive. "I mean, I've seen some European movies that get kind of fucked up and they still don't scare me. So, what were you thinking?"

If he brought out A Serbian Film, you might have asked him to kill you, right then and there.

"I was thinking that I could show you something a little more…graphic. Something closer to home." He said, glancing over his shoulder with an innocent smile (or as close to innocence as Strade could get). "And we could see if you…ya know, reacted like a normal person?"

"F-Fine…" You murmured softly, almost laughing as he popped open an unmarked VHS case and slid the tape into the player. "Looks like something old anyway…doubt it'll be scary at all."

"Don't be so presumptuous, liebling," He teased, standing back to his feet and sitting down heavily beside you. "Modern movies are garbage. You'll find way better scares in something older~"

"I have no doubt," You replied cryptically, as Strade took up the remote and started the VHS player.

After an initial buzz of static, the movie started.

Though, you had a sense that this wasn't really a movie…or, at least, it wasn't a normal movie.

The screen occupied the lens of a static camera, fixed on a pair of writhing, sweaty bodies on a thick plastic bed sheet as they had rough sex, the only sound coming from the speakers being their heavy breaths and desperate groans.

Strade let out a low chuckle as he watched the scene unfold on the screen, taking up his beer can again, his eyes roaming over every detail, and his free hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh.

His gaze remained steady and unfazed despite the graphic nature of the 'movie', but you didn't get the sense that he was particularly invested with this one either.

"Are you just showing me gay porn?" You asked through a frown, your tone a little flat as the 'bottom', a pale man (you assumed) with light blonde hair and dark tattoos on his arms and ribs, let out a desperate whine, pushing his backside more firmly against his partner's hips.

"Heh, I guess I am," Strade chuckled as he adjusted his grip, his hand squeezing your thigh tighter as he leaned back indulgently into the sofa and took another slow sip of beer. He gave you a teasing grin as he spoke again. "So, it's not really doing it for you, huh?"

"I mean, I was kind of expecting a horror movie or something," You replied, as the man's partner (tan skin, no tattoos and his face wasn't visible due to the camera focusing on the 'bottom'). "Not this."

"Is that so?" Strade asked, reaching down to gently urge your ankles over his lap, pushing your bodies that much closer together. "I wouldn't assume so much yet…keep watching."

So, you did.

You kept watching for another few minutes, as the bodies pressed together and the 'bottom' let out even louder moans and groans for "mehr, mehr, bitte", all the while, Strade stroking up and down your legs, up your knees, and ending back on your thighs, spread apart in his lap.

You sat up when you heard the two men speaking together.

The German was predictable (you had no doubt that he had more patriotic tastes when it came to porn), but as the 'bottom' shifted onto his back, allowing the 'top' to assume a missionary position, your eyes instantly widened.

"Is that…"

Strade smirked knowingly at your reaction, watching your wide eyes with amusement as he continued to let his fingers wander over your legs.

"Mm...is that what?"

You looked at him dumbfounded.

"Is that…you?"

It certainly seemed that way.

He looked younger, maybe your age (so the tape had to be at least fifteen years old), his arms and jaw were a little more well-defined (and non-scarred) and his hair was longer, but…it was Strade, it had to be.

"Well," He drawled with a shit-eating smirk. "It does look an awful lot like me, doesn't it?" He laughed, leaning in to get a better look at the screen, his fingers trailing even higher, up the front of your loose shorts and…tracing between your thighs. "Damn…I look good, don't I?"

You couldn't really argue with that…he did look pretty good.

He looked like the kind of guy you would have gone insane over in high school. Dark hair, tan skin, ambiguous bisexuality and metal hoops in each of his ears.

You took in a quiet gasp as his fingers brushed over your clit, feeling the slowly gathering wetness of your cunt.

"You like what you see, huh?" He asked, leaning in a little closer and brushing his lips over your ear. "Don't blame you. Everyone did back in the day."

He slid a finger inside of you, listening intently to your little breaths of pleasure, though they were pretty minor compared to the howling gasps of the 'bottom' on screen.

"Which isn't to say that I'm not a looker now, of course," He added with another low chuckle, his free hand kneading your thigh and pulling you closer in his lap. "But I was really fighting them off back then."

Not knowing what to say, you kept watching the tape.

The Strade on screen had his partner's legs hooked up high over his broad shoulders, forcing the skinnier body into an uncomfortable position but letting the camera see everything as his thick cock slid into his tight asshole. The 'bottom' threw his head back each time Strade thrust into him, his own, pierced cock bobbing uselessly against his tattooed belly, drooling cum on his pale skin.

And you were never much of a porn watcher, but…this was getting you kind of hot.

"Are you…getting a little excited?" He asked, his smirk widening as his thumb trailed over your erect clit and your body tightened involuntarily in his lap. "Are you wishing you were in his position, hm?"

"Who…" You started, your breathing a little heavy as he easily slid a second finger inside of you. "Who is that? Y-Your partner, I mean."

"Hm?" He blinked curiously, before a slightly mean grin came to his face. "Ah, I guess you could call him that, yeah." His fingers pressed a little deeper, rubbing at your more sensitive spots as the action on screen became a little more erratic and loud. "Truth be told, I think he might have been a little more into me than I was him. But, you know…" He shrugged. "I'm not one to say no to some fun."

"Mm," You moaned softly, pressing your face into his shoulder (he was softer now, but the muscle was still there) as he kept toying with your cunt, playing with you just as well as he played with the man on the tape.

"No, no, don't look away," He ordered softly, grabbing your face with his free hand and turning it back to the video playing. "Eyes up…you'll miss the best part if you don't look."

You let out a little whine, your body growing even tighter from the order, as you continued to watch.

The Strade on-screen had moved his strong hands (as strong as they are now) up to the pale man's neck while you were trying to hide your face. You knew the gesture, you had seen it in countless videos before and were even closely familiar with it in person.

But…

"Stefan?" The speakers picked up on the breathless gasps from Strade as his hips stilled. "Stefan?"

You felt your blood run cold and your eyes widened.

"Stefan, wach auf! Stefan…?"

After a long moment, the Strade on-screen kneeled up, drew his (still hard) cock out of 'Stefan' and pushed shaking hands through his hair, staring down at the now dead body beneath him.

"Scheiße…"

You swallowed tightly, trembling in his lap.

"You…killed him?"

"Well…I guess you could say that," Strade replied after a beat of silence, a little smirk, lit by the unnatural blue light of the television screen, slowly spreading across his lips despite the grim situation. "Guess I got a little…carried away, huh?"

"He didn't…do anything wrong," You murmured, taking in a little whimper as he brought his lips down against your neck and drove his fingers even deeper inside of you.

"Mmmm, do they ever?" Strade murmured, pressing another kiss to your neck as he continued to tease your clit, still hungry despite the dulled 'mood'. "I guess you're right, though, he was just…too vulnerable y'know? Too easy…a cute sucker in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He chuckled and nipped at your neck.

"A little bit like you."

The worst part was, the video…just kept going

You felt a morbid compulsion to keep watching though, despite your blatant disgust.

In spite of how much your brain was telling you not to, your eyes were pulled up towards the screen, no matter how much you wanted to look away.

Because how could you look away?

This was the one and only time you'd ever get to see a video like this…a video showcasing the truth behind the man sitting next to you.

You watched as the Strade on-screen stood to his feet, showing off an impressive physique (it was a little less impressive these days, thank god) and a still-hard cock, and paced out of shot…to retrieve a knife.

Not a bowie knife, like he used now, but a workman's knife.

You felt your body grow tense, and Strade rested his chin on your shoulder to watch with you, still finger-fucking you while you were both distracted.

"Here comes the best part…" He mumbled airily.

You watched as he knelt on the bed again, the plastic sheets creaking under his weight, and lowered the knife down to the dead body, using the blade to open its (you grimaced as your brain refused to properly acknowledge the body as human) sternum, blood streaming from the deep cut, and…

He slid his cock into the hot, wet opening in the body, letting out a low and ravenously hungry moan as his pace picked back up and he fucked the corpse harder than he had ever before.

"Oh god-" You gagged, reaching up to cover your mouth as you pressed your face back into his shoulder. "Strade…t-that's disgusting-"

"Ahh, there we go," He laughed, pressing another bite into your throat. "We found something that scared you, didn't we?~"

#strade btd #strade ykmet #strade x reader #strade x mc #qs #fics #drabbles #woe! headcanons be upon ye #baby's first murder awwww <3

[trashmouth-richie]

nothing kills you slower than | letting someone go |

Eddie x Fem!Reader ; Steve x Fem!Reader

W.C 6k [whoops]

A/N: I’ve had this floating around my brain for weeks, based loosely on the song “Letting Someone Go” by Zach Bryan

TW: underage drinking/ drug use, drug addiction, driving while drinking, mean!Eddie.

💋💋

Searching your bag for the soft pack of cigarettes, you push your way through the heavy metal door leading to the back of Hawkins High. You needed a cigarette and right the fuck now. This stupid fucking town, stupid fucking people at this asshole school—you had had enough. The heat of the day was at its peak as you made it over to the corner behind the wood shop. Heavily graffitied and coated in butts and ashes, this had been your secret smoke spot for the past few weeks. It wasn’t a picnic bench in the woods where he had brought you years ago, no this spot was yours, since you had broken up last month you had to find more than a few different things to make your own.

You didn’t frequent the Hideout on Tuesday’s anymore; he made sure of that. You dropped out of Hellfire, giving away your dice to Dustin and Mike as a parting gift; the trailer park you had spent so much time in was now filled with the ghosts of memories, and any time you had bumped into Wayne at the grocery store or pumping gas, you smiled shyly and waved. Wondering if Eddie ever told him why you weren’t around anymore. Why you didn’t surprise them anymore on Saturday mornings with almost stale, day old donuts.

This wasn’t a typical breakup, he didn’t have a new girlfriend and you didn’t have a new boyfriend. Eddie had been pushing you away for weeks, unthreaded the strings of your hearts from one another and drifted apart. It wasn’t easy seeing him around school, interacting with your mutual friends who were now only his friends, waving in the hallways to you as a sort of pity, eyes casted downward when they were with him, loyal to their DM.

The sting of the breakup and the events that unfolded that night were still fresh in your mind. The way the rain fell as you fought with him in front of his trailer, both drenched to the core, his curls lengthening from the heaviness of the rain, chin quivering, shoulders sagged. The pitter sound of the drops of rain hitting his leather clad arms. Seeping through the crooks of his rings, threatening to let them slip off his fingers, wetting the tape used to make them a bit smaller.

Exhaling a line of smoke through your mouth you shudder at the memory. You didn’t want to think about that night or even him. Long legs and baggy jeans stroll beside you, you know it’s her before she even says anything, passing her the cigarette you chuckle when her blue fingernails swing down to take it out of your hands.

“I swear Ms. O’Donnell has a stick up her ass.” Robin explains, “I hope her car breaks down on her way home tonight.” She huffs and throws her back against the brick, one foot folded upwards pressed against the wall.

“She does,” you blow a cloud of smoke from your nose, “it’s sideways.”

Robin snorts, smoke escaping her lips as she exhales, “So are we going to Steve’s party tonight or are you going to bail, again?”

Your response comes slower than you had hoped, you really didn’t want to see him there. Usually avoiding any opportunity you could have of running into him.

“It’s been a month,” Robin says softly, treading lightly on the sore subject hoping not to break the ice of your fragile sanity, “besides, he probably won’t even be there.” She was right, he didn’t hangout with that crowd. The hellfire boys wouldn’t be there so why would he?

“I know… I just— if I see him with someone else it would actually kill me.” Robin knows you better than anyone, she knows how hard it has been for you. Moving through the motions of these last few weeks as if they were on film and you were just a bystander. “Three years is a long time to have it just end over an argument.” The first few days of your breakup it was rumored that he was fooling around with Chrissy Cunningham. The thought of that alone was enough to get you to miss school for a week straight. Refusing to leave your bed, holed up around your sheets like a baby being swaddled. The pain was too much. Robin had stopped by multiple times and assured you it wasn’t true. But the idea of him moving on so quickly, hurt.

“It is—you’re right.” Robin says, turning to you resting her head on the wall, “And you have every right to be upset. What he did—I’m still mad at him for the way he treated you in the end.”

“Join the club,” you mutter, wiping a stray hair behind your ear flicking ashes into the wind.

“So why not just get out and have a good time, maybe you’ll meet someone?” Her lips twist into a shit eating grin. You give her a look as if to say, ‘spit it out’, lowering your eyes to her, eyebrows raised. That’s what you loved about Robin, her emotions were worn on her sleeve and she couldn’t hide anything from you, “Okay fine! I’m like 96% sure that Steve has a crush on you, and if you were to tell him that I would deny everything so don’t even try it.”

A year ago, you wouldn’t have hung out with Steve Harrington, but since you and Robin started working with him at Scoops a few months ago, you had all gotten close. The past month you had become a recluse, only agreeing to go to places that you 100% knew Eddie wouldn’t be. Robin was the one who plucked you from your decaying shell, forcing you out into the sun, watering you like a flower watching you blossom.

Maybe getting out there and even putting on a fake smile would work. Maybe bring some happiness back into your life. “Fine, but I’m not drinking that witch's brew shit Vicky makes.”

The party was like any other one at Steve’s. Music flooded the streets, the thumping of REO Speedwagon could be heard from blocks away. Cars lined every square inch of the driveway, and the surrounding side streets. Beer cans were littered in the front yard, a very drunk Jonathan Byers was laying in the cool grass, taking pictures of the sky, red cups surrounding him and puke starting to dry on his denim jacket.

Having taken a few shots at Robin’s house while getting ready, you were already feeling yourself relax a bit as you entered the Harrington house. Steve was wearing sunglasses inside, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as his hair moved with the music. Surrounded by people taking long pulls from their cheap beers dancing along to the latest hits.

“Robin, Y/N!” Steve yelled above the crowd. He raises his arms above his head and begins making his way towards you through the maze of drunk underage teens. He sweeps you into a hug, pulling you in close and grinning into your hair, “you made it!”

“There were terms to her coming here ya know,” Robin stated, lifting a beer from a freshman’s hand and claiming it as her own, “no dancing, no drinks made by Vicky and no Eddie Munson lurking around.” A quick glance around calms your nerves seeing that Eddie wasn’t here, the tension in your shoulders subsiding.

“No dancing?” Steve presses, a look of fake shock on his face, “I was just going to put ‘Thriller’ on!” The three of you laugh as you look around the living room. People are packed into every corner, some making out, others swaying like bowling pins after an almost strike— trying like hell to not fall over. “Hey dickwad, put that down!” Steve rushes over to a guy in your grade and as attempting to put a lampshade on his head.

“Just give him a chance,” Robin whispers in your ear, “I’m telling you he’s got it bad, just nervous about if you still have feelings for Eddie.”

You did. You wouldn’t deny that. But those feelings weren’t reciprocated. Not anymore. He had made that clear the night he broke it off. Saying he was going to be too busy for a relationship, that you needed to move on from him, find someone else. He was leaving Hawkins and not returning.

Steve returned with the lampshade, setting it down in the corner as he grabs your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles softly with the pads of his thumbs. “And as for Munson? He won’t be here, I promise.” A smile breaks on his face as he pushes his sunglasses into his hair. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

The kitchen is oozing with the smell of spilt beer and strong liquor. The countertops are sticky like candy—a half assed attempt of cleaning has napkins stuck to them like cement. People are crowded around the kitchen island concocting mixed drinks of pop and various liquors, a game of tippy cup is being played in the dining room. “Pick your poison,” Steve says above the crowd, gesturing to the array of drinks on the counter.

“Personally, I wouldn’t touch the punch, Vicky emptied more than half of the liquor cabinet into it. Byers had about three cups and hasn’t been seen since.”

You laugh and a grin spreads across Steve’s face, “we saw him on the way in actually, he’s laying in the front yard, taking pictures of the sky.” You grab a beer off the counter, cracking it open, suds surrounding the aluminum top of the can you slurp them up and tilt it back into your mouth the iced pale ale flowing down your throat like a wheat river. Steve’s eyes haven’t left you since you got here.

“That looks good on you,” he says, taking a sip of his own beer, brown honeyed eyes pouring into yours.

You give him a confused glance, “the beer?”

He laughs and gestures to your lips, “a smile.” Your cheeks heat with a blush, you weren’t good with flirting. You and Eddie had only gotten together because you spun the bottle in his direction that summer night between 8th grade and Freshman year in Namcy Wheeler basements. Steve holds your elbow and looks at you through his lashes. Of course he was good looking, he was tall, hair always perfectly positioned, strong facial features and those dreamy honey eyes could make anyone fall for him. You smile shyly at him and take another sip of your beer. “Wasn’t sure if I’d ever get to see it again,” he whispers into your ear, pulling back closer than he was before.

Steve had known the ins and outs of your breakup just like Robin had. You had spent countless nights sitting on the floor of Scoops sampling the flavors while you delved out the inner workings of why Eddie did what he did. You were heart broken, no other way to say it. And it had hurt Steve to see you so low. You had done your best to avoid Eddie entirely, and Steve would do anything to try to help.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, looking down at your shoes and back up to Steve, “I wasn’t sure either.” Maybe it would be easier to get over Eddie if you just moved on from him, finding comfort in someone else, even if just for a night.

“I, uh— can’t believe he’d be that stupid.” Steve says, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. Your brows knit slightly together as Steve continues moving a strand of hair from your face, “Eddie I mean. Cause if you were mine, I would never let you go.”

A shy smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you look up at Steve. Those nights at Scoops had made you all closer, the three of you spilling your guts about relationships gone bad, secret hookups, etc. Not in any of those nights did you put together that Steve liked you more than a friend. Usually you were too busy daydreaming about a time where Eddie was still yours, still the sweet Eddie you had known and fallen in love with. Now he would hold his head high above yours in the hallways, never even glancing your way. You search your mind trying to remember if Steve talked about any girls during that time but you can’t think of any.

“Oh come on Steve, you don’t mean that,” you shake your head, Steve gently placed a finger under your chin positioning your face towards his.

“I mean it,” he says sternly with a hint of softness, “I care about you, a lot.” His eyes show sadness, your stomach flutters at his words. Maybe it’s the alcohol making this easy for you, or maybe it’s the way he’s staring so deep into your soul your whole body is tingling, but you feel safe with Steve. You can’t help yourself when you lean into him, licking your lips slightly and closing your eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ Henderson, why the hell are you making me do this?” Eddie huffs as he jumps out of the van and stomps up the sidewalk to Steve Harrington’s house.

“You’re the one who kept saying you were bored,” Dustin says, “listen I know you’ve never hung out with Steve before, but once you do you’ll see he’s a pretty cool guy.” A mouthful of braces smiles up at him.

Hellfire had ended early since none of the boys could defeat Eddie’s sadistic campaign. They were out of Doritos and Family Video didn’t have any new releases this week. “Yeah I doubt that,” Eddie scowled. He was finding it more and more difficult to be happy this last month. He thought breaking up would push him in the right direction of where he wanted to go, leaving Hawkins for good after graduation, getting a record deal, maybe. But so far all he had was one more failing grade before he was held back, again. He was annoyed beyond belief, hating himself for being so naive.

Agreeing to go with Dustin so he wouldn’t get himself into trouble, Eddie walks faster to the party, his Reeboks squeaking beneath him. Dustin makes it to the door first, “should I take my shoes off or should I leave them on? There aren’t any shoes here, are they somewhere else?”

Eddie chuckles at his younger friend, “keep ‘em on, easier to run if the cops come,” he says, eyes wide to scare Dustin.

“Come on man, don’t say that.” Dustin says, following Eddie as he made his way up the steps to the split level home. Maybe a few beers would help his mood. Not fair to Dustin that he has such a shitty attitude lately, the kid worships Steve so he could hangout for a bit, drink a few beers and then go home. Landing on the top step peering into the kitchen, Eddie stops dead.

Watching your lips move with Steve’s has Eddie feeling sick to his stomach. He’s convinced his heart stops beating. Blood rushing to his cheeks, this shouldn’t hurt the way it does. He had been the one to end it, the one who shoved you away. But you looked so happy with Steve. “Oh shit,” Dustin says behind Eddie’s shoulder, “uhh.. drinks? We need drinks!” Dustin pushes Eddie forward through the kitchen and out to the patio, finding the kegs, he pours two of the worlds foamiest beers and thrusts them into Eddie’s hands. “Here,” he says, raising Eddie’s hand to his mouth to get him to drink, “swear to God that’s not at all what I— ”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie says, slamming the beer and refilling it, foamy suds running down his chin, “I’m fine Dustin, really.” His eyes were dark with anger, rubbing his jaw with the heel of his hand he walks back inside the kitchen and grabs the closest bottles of whiskey he can find— noticing you and Steve are now gone— and waltzes back out. Throwing himself into a lawn chair and pressing his lips to the open bottle, stewing in his own misfortunes.

This was his fault, he broke up with you for no particular reason other than his own stupid ideas. You were each other's first kiss, first time, first everything. Of course he wanted to know what it felt like to kiss someone else, feel a body that wasn’t yours. But he had always considered you to be his. Seeing you lip locked with Steve was worse than a punch to the gut. Pull after pull on the bottle of whiskey, Eddie’s eyes got darker, he slumped further into the seat. He had no idea what Dustin had even been saying. The only thing he could focus on was you.

The way your hair smelled like coconuts when you were cuddled up against his chest, wearing his shirt when you slept over. You were his everything back then, he didn’t just love you he admired you, worshipped the ground you walked on. He had been regretting the breakup since it happened, but couldn’t find the heart to tell you that. He saw the way you cowered away from him at school, changing your schedule to avoid any contact at all with him, your locker used to be next to his now it was empty. He fucked up bad, but all he was trying to do was save you.

He stands up, his tall figure swaying slightly with the help of inebriation. He stumbled into the sliding door, face pressed flush with the glass, scanning the kitchen. You still weren’t in sight, but Robin was.

Throwing the door open a little harder than it should have been, it bounces slightly at the force. Eddie climbs in all legs first, “Robin! Robin!” Eddie yells above the crowd, maneuvering around drunk teens.

“Eddie,” Robin spins on her heel, a glare to her blue eyes, “you look— like shit.”

“Aww,” Eddie scoffs, “thought I was your favorite.” He takes a big swig from the whiskey, too drunk to even taste the amber liquid sliding down his throat, the burn barely there.

“You were, until you hurt my best friend, and became a giant dick.”

“Well now that just hurt my feelings Robby.”

“What’s the game here Munson, Vicky’s waiting.”

Swaying more than he would have liked and holding onto the kitchen island Eddie lets his guard down, “where is she?”

“Listen, you weren’t there. You didn’t see the way she trapped herself in her room for a week after you broke her heart. She’s trying to get over you— you can’t just pretend like you’re still her boyfriend.” Robin lights a cigarette and blows smoke directly in Eddie’s face.

“I just wanna talk to her. Tell her congrats, I’m sure she’s happy with the upgrade from Prince of the Trailer Park to King of Hawkins thassall.” He says with a shrug of his broad shoulders, leather creaking with his movements.

“I mean it— leave her alone, you already did it once, shouldn’t be too hard the second time.” Robin ashes her cigarette into a discarded cup and saunters off to find Vicky.

Eddie takes another swig, rolling the liquor around his teeth, before swallowing when he hears it. Your laugh coming from the living room. Long legs moving like he’s on ice skates with the help of the walls bearing the brunt of his body weight, he enters the living room with a frown. You're sitting on Steve’s lap, his face is nuzzled into your hair the same way Eddie’s used to when he surprised you by your lockers. You haven’t noticed him yet. Your eyes are pinched shut and you’re laughing at the way Steve’s fingers dip into your sides tickling you.

Always one for theatrics, Eddie starts to clap.

Steve’s lips are like silk, smooth and warm against yours, the taste of beer mixed with carmex on the tip of your tongue as you drag it across his bottom lip. His hands move into your hair, holding you closer to him as he slots his mouth against yours. Kissing Steve comes naturally, as if you have done this before. For the first time in weeks you feel at peace with the breakup. You hear the sliding door open and close as Steve deepens the kiss, moving his head in a slant to paint your mouth with his tongue. He tastes like cheap beer and a smidge of cigarettes and mint gum. You pull back from him, “whoa.”

“Shit, I’m sorry— just you were leaning in and I thought you wanted me to kiss you—fuck I just messed this up didn’t I?” Steve pushes his fingers into the inner corners of his eyes, you pull his hand away looking confused.

“No,” you giggle, holding Steve’s hand in yours, the other pressed against his chest. “It was good, great even— I haven’t felt like that in weeks,” you admit to him, “don’t apologize.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as he brings you into a hug, kissing the top of your head and wrapping his large hands around your back, moving them across your shoulders as he ushers you to the living room where Robin and Vicky are dancing. Steve pulls you into the couch with him, whispering into your ear about how pretty you are, how long he has been waiting until you were ready to say anything. The sweet gestures make you blush again and again. When he asks to take you out for a date tomorrow night you tease him.

“I think I’m busy, yeah definitely busy.” A sheepish grin lands on your face and Steve’s face goes from concerned to mocking mad as he tickles your sides you squeal and use his full name as if that were to somehow deter him away from you. A noise is growing louder in the living room and it’s not the music— is someone clapping? You slowly open your eyes and take note of the very drunk barely standing Eddie Munson making his way towards you, eyes black as tar a look of maniacal madness plastered on his face.

“Well well, what do we have here?” Eddie slurs as he steps cautiously towards you. Steve stops tickling you and moves his face away from your hair, you can hear his heart beating against his chest as he moves you off of his lap and onto the couch, protective hands on your legs as puffs out his chest.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, panic rising from your chest.

“Well I just thought I would wish the happy new couple many years of blissful togetherness, looks like I missed the knighting ceremony— sorry about that.”

“Eddie, you’re drunk,” Steve interjects, “let me take you home”

“Not really my type Harrington,” Eddie says, looking only at you, “ ‘m not leaving until she talks to me, alone.”

“Come on, man. You’re making a scene and she’s uncomfortable.” Steve places a hand on your jittering leg squeezing it tight to let you know it’ll be okay, a gesture that Eddie doesn’t miss.

“Oh is she?” A false expression of concern clouds Eddie’s face, “how dare I? Turns out,” he says, inching closer and dropping down to stare into your eyes, your eyes burning from the aroma of whiskey on his breath. “I know how to make her very comfortable when it comes to that, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you!” You yell, slapping his face.

“Now now sweetheart, poor Steve doesn’t need to hear how vulgar that mouth can get, you usually leave that for a second date at least right?.”

Steve stands from the couch and is toe to toe with Eddie, both fuming. You try to shove your way in between them before they start swinging. Luckily Eddie stumbles backward creating space between them, you turn to Steve just as Dustin runs into the living room, holding Eddie back as he grins wildly, shoving devil horns onto his head and throwing his tongue out.

“I’m gonna go talk to him Steve, he’s clearly just upset, I’ll be okay. I promise.” Steve gives you a look of concern, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Be careful.” He says, eyes glaring into Eddie’s from across the room. You press a kiss into his cheek and squeeze his hand.

“Let’s go,” you scowl, grabbing Eddie by the elbow and dragging him out to the front yard.

“Ow!” Eddie whines, “Christ, cut it out, babe!”

“Okay first and foremost, enough with the pet names, they were cute when we were together but they’re not now, so knock it off.”

Eddie salutes you like a soldier saluting his lieutenant.

“Secondly, what the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” Eddie preens, “what’s that supposed to mean? I don’t have a problem, I’m just a, a concerned friend is all.”

You scoff, “we are not friends, this is the only conversation we have had since you dumped me that night, and look at us—we’re fighting again! Last I knew you hated my guts, so don’t come at me with this ‘concerned friend’ bullshit because it’s nothing but a fucking lie.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Really? Could have fooled the fuck out of me when you made me quit Hellfire and told me to stop showing up to your shows. You forget they were my friends too! Did you even tell Wayne that we broke up? Cause every time I see him he looks more and more confused as to why I’m not around!”

That hit deep. “It’s not his business who I’m fucking.”

“So that’s all I was to you, huh?” Tongue in your cheek ready to slap his stupid perfect face, “You’re un-fucking-believable!”

“You look good tonight.”

“Shut up Eddie— don’t fucking start with me. I can’t believe you have the nerve to show up here and try to make an ass out of me, in front of my friends!” You poke a finger into his chest and glare up at him.

“Oh, now look who’s all high and mighty, well I’m sorry, your excellency, to interrupt the clever mind of King Steve—but I didn’t come here to fucking win you over. Dustin wanted to be here so I drove him. I didn’t even know you would be here! First person I saw was Steve Harrington and he was all over you. So yeah, it hurt to see you move on with someone else.”

“I’m only doing exactly what you told me to do!” You can’t help the tears from falling, “or did you forget that part?” You close your eyes remembering the way his mouth moved the way the rain fell against his leather jacket, how it felt sticking to your shirt soaking you to the bone. “You were the one who told me to find someone else, so I did, just so happens that you were around to see it happening. We aren’t even dating— that was our first kiss.” You wipe your tears as they fall, pulling away from Eddie as he tries to mimick your motions, his hand falling down to his jeans.

“You fucking think it’s easy for me to see you with him?” Eddie asks, looking at you through his lashes, “I felt like someone shot me in the chest when I watched him kiss you.”

“What did you expect? Me to wait around for you after you basically told me to go fuck myself?” You yank at the hair closest to your scalp, pulling in frustration, “you dumped me Eddie! Not the other way around.” You’re yelling at this point, so beyond pissed off that he’s making this seem like it’s your fault for the way he acted.

“Did you act like it was me? Wish it was my lips on yours instead of him?”

“Grow up, Eddie.”

“Oh come on baby,” his voice dripping seductively, “don’t you remember what it felt like to have my lips on your neck,” he sweeps your hair off your shoulder, “or when I was between your legs, making you come with my t—“

“Don’t— do not finish that sentence! You think insulting me while you’re hammered and a half ass apology is going to fix what you did? Think the fuck again.” You turn on your heel in a huff and try to head back into the house.

“I know your body better than any tweedle dick in Hawkins ever could, sweetheart.”

“God you are so fucking infuriating! Here you are again, acting like I ended this, like I was the one who ripped your heart out that night and stomped all over it. Leaving you to walk home in the rain. I fucking hate you Eddie Munson! I hate everything about you— now leave me the hell alone!” You turn on your heel, huffing as you walk the sloped grassy hill past a blacked out Jonathan Byers.

“Baby please,” Eddie has you by the waist pulling you closer to him. “Please just hear me out, I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up. That’s the only thing I’m good at is fucking everything up. I’m sorry I said those things when we broke up—I’m sorry for being an asshole tonight. I just—seeing you with him, letting you go— is a pain I’ve never felt before. And I’m sure the bottle of whiskey I drank isn’t helping that.”

You fish in your pockets for your keys, realizing Robin drove, “Give me your keys, I’ll drive you home.”

Climbing into the driver's seat of the clunky hunk of metal, you are met with the all too familiar scent of him. The cheap cologne you gifted him for his birthday last year, Marlboro reds, the spice of his deodorant that he kept in the glove box, all hitting you at once. Turning the key you press your foot to the accelerator to give it a little oomf to turn over.

“You gotta give it a little—”

“I know. Not my first time driving it.”

“Sorry, forgot I guess.” The van roars to life and you flick the lights on, Eddie is leaning with his head on the headrest, one long leg thrown across the dash the other stuffed under the glove compartment. You speed down the road, heading towards Forest Hills Trailer Park. Silence is golden but not if you’re Eddie Munson, “remember when you almost fought that guy at The Hideout?”

A chuckle breaks from your lips sighing at the memory, “he was talking shit about Corroded Coffin, specifically you.”

“He was at least 6ft 8, 400 lbs, a fucking caveman,” a smile forms on his mouth, showing his pearly whites, “he could have easily beaten up the entire bar, and you just stood there poking him in the chest giving him an earful.”

“And I’d do it again, too.” you smile widely back at Eddie.

“I fell in love with you that night,” he admits, “I already knew I was but that just put the nail in the coffin for me.”

Your smile fades at the memories of Eddie once being in love with you, being yours.

“Can I ask you something?” He blurts.

“You already did, but go on.”

“Why Harrington?” He’s facing you eyes droopy with drunkenness as he fiddles with a lighter. “Out of all the ass clowns of Hawkins, why him?”

“I told you, we aren’t dating, we just kissed. We got close after the— a month ago, and— why does it matter?”

“Easy..”

“No, I'm being serious. Why does it matter to you that much?”

“There’s road construction up ahead, take it easy!”

“Don’t change the subj— “

“Fuck! Fuck! The bridge is ou—”

Eddie wakes up a week later in the hospital. He suffered a concussion and broke his right femur, 4 broken ribs and a broken nose. His spleen had ruptured as well. Doctors thought he wouldn’t wake up due to the severity of the accident. The first thing he asked about was you. Dustin couldn’t tell him. He tried but when the machines hooked up to Eddie started beeping and he started ripping IV’s out of his arm— the nurses ran in to push more pain meds, making him drowsy again.

It was Wayne who ended up telling him what had happened. The van nose dived into the creek bed, the van’s exterior was nothing compared to the jagged rocks and old slabs of concrete at the bottom. The force of the fall crushed the front of it like a pop can. Ambulance crews from 3 counties came to assist with the crash, nobody on either crew had seen anything like it before. He was lucky to be alive, Wayne had said.

“Wayne— don’t bullshit me, where is she?”

The warble of Wayne’s lower lip was enough answers for Eddie. He shook his head until a headache blurred his vision. He threw anything around him he could get his hands on, ripping every single IV out of his arms, punching the cast on his leg, screaming until his lungs gave out and his ribs ached even more. He was sedated. Sent to the psych ward where he was kept on an involuntary 72 hour hold. Refusing to eat, refusing to talk to anyone. He was released into Wayne’s care. Roane County Hospital was thankful to get rid of him.

The Hellfire boys visited, each giving their condolences. Heads hung low like the dwarfs from Snow White after she bites the poisoned apple and is in a death/sleep limbo. Robin and Steve came next, offering to take Eddie to see your headstone. The ride home was quiet as Eddie’s tears fell silently. A red eyed Robin rubbed Steve’s back as he put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.” Eddie finally said, “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I— ” his voice breaks as he clutches for sanity.

“It’s not your fault,” Steve muffled through his hands, “it was an accident Eddie, could have happened to any of us.”

Eddie’s grief wore him down, he barely left his room, his senior year came and went, returning to school was too much for him, the anxiety creeping through his veins surging panic anytime he was somewhere you would have been, should have been. If only he had drove that night, maybe he would have been dead instead of you. He would gladly take your place, nothing here for him, you had friends, family.

He found the only solace he could.

“I don’t usually make house calls but I guess I’ll do it for you Munson,” Rick croaked into the phone.

The high was fast, his breathing evened and he fell asleep quickly. The addiction was even faster, hitting him like a freight train against the rails, he was a shell of his former self.

One night it went too far.

The taste of grease coated fingers in his mouth jars his eyes awake, vomit fills his mouth as he hurls all over the shower. The beads of water beating down on his chest as Wayne places his fingers into his mouth again, making him puke again and again, the long coiled cord of the telephone dragging and bouncing across the bathroom linoleum as Wayne holds the receiver with his shoulder wedged against his ear.

That was eight years ago. A night that scared the absolute shit out of Wayne Munson and aged him at least 15 years. Eddie had been sober since that day, making a vow to himself and to you to live for the both of you. He did escape Hawkins, taking Corroded Coffin to the top of the billboard charts, and making Wayne quit that God awful factory job and go on tour with him, never to lift a finger for anyone but himself again. Tonight was the anniversary of your death. Corroded Coffin was performing a memorial show in your honor at the Hideout.

Eddie addresses the crowd, “this is for the sweetest girl I’ve ever known, she’s gone but never forgotten, living on through the people who knew her and loved her…” a teary eyed Steve wipes his eyes beneath his glasses, holding Nancy tight against him, resting his head atop of hers. “…sweetheart, this is for you.”

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #steve harrington #Steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie fan fic

[periprose]

pretty please rough navi quaritch smut where he splits reader's legs apart and breeds her?? Reader can be from the RDA and she has to let him breed her as part of the new embryo growth program :) <3

Woo boy anon!! This ask made my head explode in a really good way 😳 thank you

The Old Fashioned Way

Miles Quaritch x Reader

When Parker Selfridge tells you that the RDA needs one of your eggs, since you're a Recom, for new genetic material, you literally can't say no. It's an order that you can't refuse, since they're trying to make new embryos to experiment off of.

Of course, you're placed in a room with Miles Quaritch, your superior, who's unsuccessfully trying to harvest his own reproductive material, same as you. He decides to kill two birds with one stone, and suggest that you do it the old fashioned way.

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: Smut, pwp, breeding kink, unprotected sex, Quaritch being obsessed, 18+, no use of Y/N

Reader's name is Axe

“No way.” You cross your arms, staring down at Selfridge.

He’s just told you about the new RDA program. Growing Avatars and Recoms is easy and all, you know the process. Na’vi DNA was extracted successfully about twenty-five years ago- and there’s a process of combining human DNA with it to create new bodies.

It’s just that the Na’vi DNA has slowly been losing it’s potency with every sequencing process. You don’t know exactly what that’s all about- just that cloning deteriorates something about how strong the genes are. 

So the scientists and geneticists have decided that they need some kind of replacement, and they need it now. They wanted to track down more Na’vi, but considering how hard everyone’s asses get beat anytime the RDA gets a few klicks near their territory, it was a no go.

They’ve decided on the “natural way.”

As Selfridge has just said.

“ Why… not… just take my genes, Parker?” You bite your lip, and Selfridge shakes his head.

“Don’t make this anymore awkward than it has to be, Axe.” Selfridge stares at his fingernails, which somehow makes him look like even more of a prick. “Your genes are no bueno . You, Zdinarsk, Wainfleet, and Quaritch are the last line of ‘normal’ Recoms, if we can call it that. If we try to extract your genes, and grow a Recom body, it’ll just be a waste of money. It won’t work.”

“Okay.” You inhale sharply, and Selfridge flinches. You forget sometimes in your Recom body that you’re way more intimidating than your old self was. Your dead self. “So what exactly does the ‘natural way’ entail?”

“What are you, a fucking virgin?” Selfridge laughs. Loudly. 

You snarl at him, and he flinches, again, before snickering.

“Jesus, you really are one of them, huh?” Selfridge scoffs. “Try not to fuck the sperm donor too hard when you see him.”

“Selfridge-” You grab his arm as he tries to leave, and with how much smaller Selfridge is, it’s like you’re dangling his body with your sheer strength. “ Motherfucker- tell me for real what’s going on, or I’ll snap your neck.”

“You’ll get shot if you try anything.” Selfridge says, but you can see in his eyes that he’s panicking. “Okay, okay. I’m just fucking with you. They’re just going to extract an egg from your na’vi-ovaries or whatever they’re called. Then the rest, you should know. Embryo production.”

You do know, but you don’t trust him.

It’s not like you have a choice anyways.

/

You were right not to trust him.

Selfridge has to be kidding. You’re sitting in your typical testing room in Bridgehead City. There’s no scientists around, at least not yet. You’ve come in on your day of ovulation, and you’ve been told to wear something comfortable and loose, and to sit around for a bit.

You lean back on the large medical bed, sighing loudly. You’re wearing some regular sweatpants, and a t-shirt that just barely reaches your midriff. Your hair is tied loosely in a low, wavy ponytail. You hope it looks comfortable enough.

You’re assuming an ultrasound, and- the weirdest part- some vaginal probing. You haven’t gotten a chance to play around with your new body yet, at least not like that, and you have no idea what gets you going, or whatever.

You’re sure some lube will be implemented, and then you’ll just lie there and count to ten. You’re just waiting for someone, anyone to come by to do this procedure and get it over with.

The door slides open. You sit up.

Miles Quaritch looks at you, his eyes bright, alert, and his mouth a little agape. His ears stand up for a moment. He’s holding a really old magazine, and a cup- oh no.

You can’t be in this situation with your superior. It’s just so damn awkward.

“Axe?” He shakes his head and just looks flabbergasted as he cackles. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I might as well ask you the same question.” You say flatly, and sigh. “They told me… they were going to do my egg extraction in here?”

“Oh.” Quaritch isn’t exactly a sensitive man, or one with any sort of sensibilities, really, so he just sits on the other medical bed next to yours. After a brief pause, he pulls the curtain, so you’ll at least have a bit of privacy. It’s the most comforting thing he’ll ever do.

“You looking at porn?” You joke, but Quaritch just sighs in response.

“Sooner you shut up, the sooner I’ll be done.” 

You can’t argue with that. It must be weird for him too, to still have to jerk off into a cup so he can be a pseudo sperm-donor for an embryo he’ll never know.

You try not to listen too much to what he’s doing, and you can tell, from how much he’s flipping the pages of some old 2100s era Earth porn- he’s not exactly focused on what he’s supposed to be doing. What the hell was Selfridge and the other scientists thinking? That you were interested in having a voyeur experience?

You know that Bridgehead is really busy, what with all the expansions and all for the new human citizens, so you're guessing this was the only free room. You wonder if Z-Dog and Wainfleet are in the same predicament. Why not at least put you in the same room as Z-Dog, so you have a bit of a girl-to-girl, weird bonding experience? Nothing says best friends like getting your eggs extracted together.

Soon, a little robot of some kind comes by through the door, and gives you what has to be the most embarrassing object. 

A dildo.

Not exactly a dildo, because it's not a toy, but it's a very well crafted, self-lubricating, vibrating egg-extractor. Long, slim, phallic and curved in a way that you know will hit the right spot. You feel yourself flush a little.

The robot tells you to "get yourself ready," with the device, and when you're adequately so, to click a button and let it extend itself into your uterus, where it will harvest the egg for safe keeping. 

You really think this is some kind of practical joke. You would've vastly preferred the cold, clinical nature of a doctor asking you to stay calm as they put you under, and insert something into you. 

But you guess it has to be somewhat pleasurable, so they can get you to do it again at some point if they need to. 

"Those sick bastards." You mutter under your breath, and you hear Quaritch stir a little next to you. 

You decide to just get it over with, and pull down your sweatpants- just down to your knees- and your panties. You lay back against the bed, and fiddle with the device. 

Even when you were on Earth, you usually just messed around with dudes who were on your squad in the Navy. This is kind of new territory for you.

You gently press the tip of the device against yourself, and feel awkward. It just is mechanical, cold, and weird- until it starts vibrating, and emitting some sort of magically warm gel that makes you feel soft, as if your skin is beginning to tingle all over, spreading from in between your thighs, up your stomach, and into your chest. 

That's pretty good. You have to admit that yourself. 

You tentatively push it across your folds, not in just yet, and you feel yourself slicken, wetness pooling around the device- it's a sudden whirlwind of a feeling that has you seeing stars. God, you really have missed this feeling, but it's somehow even more intense in your Na'vi body. 

It begins to vibrate against your clit as you move it up and down in a testing, rudimentary way, and you very softly- just barely, audibly moan.

/

Quaritch's ears stand up, on edge. He's horribly alert of everything you're doing, and there's nothing he can do but listen. 

First, your scent is incredibly strong- intoxicating in a way that makes him sure that this is what Sully felt when he got some local tail. Your arousal has him closing his eyes, and thinking of what he would do if he was just a few feet over- pinning you down and thrusting in. Second, that vibrating sound- he knows what it’s doing, and that makes it all the more tempting to just go over and show you what a real man should feel like.

Still, Quaritch wants to follow the rules just this one time, because he's not used to his Na'vi body, either, and he would rather figure out his whole… situation, down there, before he immediately proceeds into sex. 

But he’s a bastard, too. He always goes headfirst into whatever his instincts tell him to do, and it hasn’t exactly failed him yet. Except when he died, obviously.

He hears you, just very subtly moaning, and his ears perk up as he listens.

Quaritch is too impatient to care. There’s a throbbing in his camo pants now, with no thanks to that shitty old magazine, and he knows- like all men know- what he wants to do to get rid of it.

He lifts the curtain aside, where you’re currently holding that damned toy, as your pants ball up around your knees. You’re half-lying against a pillow, and your baby t-shirt is riding up, just showing off a hint of your breasts. You’re not quite in the throes of passion, not yet, but your mouth is half-open, and your lids are half lidded as you gaze at him, your hand stopping in between your thighs.

Quaritch clenches his jaw. It’s insane how fast his hormones are- pumping through his blood, to where his pants are getting uncomfortably tight. It’s quite a sight, he can’t exactly blame himself for moving forward. 

You, to your credit, don’t draw yourself back. You just stare at him, face turning warm- probably not red, all things considered- and Quaritch just stands in front of you, taking your hand from between your legs.

“This is what they got you using?” He scoffs, pulling at the device, away from your legs. You involuntarily twitch at the movement, and your pussy suddenly feels cold. 

Quaritch tuts at the way you’re shaking a little, how you’re clearly so needy, and he leans in with an eager, almost malicious smile. His body easily towers over your own, and you feel your heart race as he looks down at you- up and down your entire body. 

“Why don’t we do things the old fashioned way?” Quaritch murmurs, a deep rumble in his chest as he does so.

You think you should say no. First of all, you don’t want to get pregnant, and second of all, it seems like Quaritch isn’t exactly being impartial, is he? You know that Earth porn probably did nothing for the guy, but that doesn’t mean you have to be his unwilling participant.

Still, as Quaritch gently nudges his bulge against you, your folds slick against the roughness of the cloth, causing you to inhale unsteadily at the pleasant friction, you realize you’re entirely willing to do this. In fact, all things considered, Quaritch is a hell of a lot more attractive than some of the other Recoms out there.

And it feels more natural than the device, which you were sadly struggling to insert. Lube or not, it was a little too out there for you.

You breathe in, feeling his bulge throb against you. “Okay.”

Quaritch doesn’t take much time to unbuckle his pants and underwear, his dick flopping out as he does. You’re a little amused- it’s proportional to his body, but it’s a lot bigger looking than any of the human dicks you’ve seen. 

It occurs to you that you probably look the same way to him. Tall, lithe body. Impossibly tiny waist. Plump chest and ass. Thick thighs. The proportions are different, but good. 

“Are you laughing at me, soldier?” Quaritch pulls off his tank top, his bare muscles causing your face to warm a little, and he towers over you now. His arms are a lot stronger than yours and he pins you down. 

“What the hell are you gonna do about it, Colonel?” You rile him up a little. Just for fun, since it seems like everything has gone batshit insane today. 

Might as well get some extra anger out of him, so this can count as stress relief, too.

“Well, let’s see.” He uses his hands to spread out your thighs, flattening and pressing them into the mattress, splitting your legs apart. He massages your thighs as he talks. “I guess I’m trying to knock you up. Get you nice and filled up with me.”

It causes a tingle in your lower stomach, watching Quaritch size you up as his hands firmly grasp your thighs. 

He inhales, and- with the practised familiarity of someone who hasn’t done this in a while- pumps his fist over his dick, just to remember the sensation. Quaritch slides his dick against you, causing you to convulse as it snugly fits into your outer folds, the head of his dick meeting where your clit is. There’s a throbbing sensation that seems to flow from him into you- and you swear pre-cum must be leaking from him, or you’ve just gotten a lot more wet.

“Ah- fuck- ” You groan, and Quaritch clearly likes the sound of that, because he slides his dick back and forth a few times. Lubing himself up. 

“You asked for this.” He grins at you, and he pushes your legs really wide this time, lifting them up a little as he enters you. 

Quaritch groans loudly when his dick has fully sheathed itself inside you, and you feel yourself twitching in anticipation, feeling more full than you’ve ever remembered feeling when you were human. He pulls your legs forward roughly, and you feel yourself clench around him as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Quaritch sighs in satisfaction, pressing his forehead against yours. He draws himself back, slowly, his dick slipping out of you sloppily, easily, and then thrusts forward at full speed, immediately filling you, causing you to moan loudly. He begins to thrust, slowly, testing the waters, and with every time he fills you, you feel your walls clench around him, like your body can’t do anything but squeeze him.

Eventually Quaritch works himself to a much more rapid speed- like he has a lot of energy he desperately needs to get out. His skin is slapping against yours as he thrusts, sometimes at an even pace, now a bit more sporadically as he gets lost in the sensation, his taut thighs causing what can only be bruises against your own. He finds that with every thrust, your walls squeeze the head of his dick, causing a delicious throbbing sensation to run through his groin, and he wants to capture that feeling again and again. He finds it insane just how wet and good you feel when he ruts up against you- it’s heightened in a way that makes him never want to let go of you.

His hands make their way towards your waist- your ridiculously tiny waist- and he squeezes, marvels at the way it seems his hands could probably swallow you whole there. He’s alarmed to find out that he wants to kiss you there.

Quaritch tries to distract himself a little. Out of some instinct that he can’t quite place, he leans towards your ear, and nibbles on it with his fang. He didn’t exactly realize how much of an erogenous zone that would be for you- warmth spreads across your jaw and ears and cheeks, and you bite your lip in the absolute cutest way, your ears fluttering up and down, as you moan a little against his jaw. He moves his hands upwards, and pulls up your top, exposing your breasts. He roughly thumbs a nipple, causing you to wriggle around in pleasure, and then decides to latch his mouth onto it, his fangs just teasing and pulling at your nipple until you cry out.

He wants to do this again, and again, until you’re covered in his marks and bruises, all his , so he can claim you as his own woman to breed. Of course, Quaritch isn’t that stupid to actually go through with it- you’re a great soldier in your own right, and you probably don’t want to be owned- he just has this need inside him to absolutely own you in every possible way.

You feel like you’re impossibly hot, your body burning up from your lower regions, all the way to your face, to where Quaritch has bitten you, here and there. You’re feeling a pressure build inside you- and you think Quaritch can feel it too, considering how hard he’s grunting, pushing, and pressing inside you, seeking desperately for that release. 

Your hands make their way around his neck, and you lean in, and kiss him, your parted lips moving against his. You think Quaritch won’t be receptive- he is the coldest person you know- but his tongue swirls into your mouth, spit being swapped between the two of you, and he actually groans into your mouth, it being muffled and all. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, ass, waist, and tits, and he begins to thrust with a little more impact- less sloppy, more intensity- which has you absolutely melting at his touch, wrapping yourself tightly around him.

Some instinct of yours- something that comes with this body, at least- tells you to combine your queue with Quaritch’s, and you do so with shaky hands, your braid swinging over his shoulder, and combining with his as you hold them together. Quaritch doesn’t stop you, but what you feel surprises you.

Of course, there’s an overwhelming sense of lust and sex and arousal and all the things Quaritch is feeling right now, so he can breed you like a strong man would, but there’s also… affection? Attraction, yes, but affection?

You could just be getting confused with everything else that’s in there. But you think it’s there, a feeling of affection for his favourite subordinate, and that’s all you really needed to know. You like him, too. You feel like you’re really seeing him right now.

Quaritch moans against your mouth, and cums inside you, and it’s as if fireworks have gone off inside your brain, his orgasm lighting up yours in the soul bond. You convulse under him, moaning, feeling the waves overtake you as he grips you tightly, the ache of his cock causing you to feel pleasure ebb outwards.  

He slowly pulls out, and watches as cum drips down the sides of your thighs. Quaritch is kind of impressed- he did it, like he said he would- and he lays down next to you, sighing in contentment.

“So. Are we keeping it?” Quaritch teases, and you give him a wayward look.

“ It is not gonna be a baby, dumbass.” You roll your eyes, but something about Quaritch now makes you want to snuggle against him, his scent all warm and familiar, and so you do. You let your face lie flatly against his chest. You feel like it’s the bond- it still feels kind of present between you two.

“Woo, boy, if you don’t know how babies are made, I’m not sure I should have done you like that.” Quaritch laughs, and you sigh.

“Goddamnit.” You shake your head. “Selfridge said that our reproductive material are meant to make the next Recoms. They’re just gonna take the embryo, and use it’s cells to make a blank slate for the next Avatar or Recom or whatever it is. We just… took out the middle man for them.”

Quaritch isn’t too caught off guard by this. He’s used to all the science fuckery that the RDA does, and he decides to just let it go.

“Tell you what, Axe.” He uses your name, for real, as his hand combs through your hair. “Come by my quarters later, and we can do it again and again . However many times until you’ve got a baby in there.”

You still don’t want to be pregnant, and you’re pretty sure the colonel knows that- he’s just got some crazy impregnation fetish or creampie kink going on- but you’re kind of obsessed with him now, and the way that he keeps looking at you.

“I’m cool with that.” You nod, and if Quaritch was an honest man, he would say that he felt completely enamoured with that response.

You snuggle up next to him, not really caring that this is a medical lab, or that you should head back to your quarters. You’re tired, and you fall asleep fairly easily.

/

Quaritch doesn’t fall asleep. He feels crazy energized. You’ve given him a high unlike any other- and he’s in a particularly good mood because he feels… some way that he can’t articulate about you.

After you’re out cold, he puts his pants back on- and good thing he does, because Selfridge comes in without knocking. 

Selfridge looks from you, completely naked, and snoring under some blankets, to Quaritch, who’s suspiciously shirtless and stretching his legs out.

He looks aghast. “I didn’t think you two would really-”

“Really?” Quaritch leans over him. “Seems to me like you did it on purpose. Putting us in the same room and all.” 

Selfridge splutters over Quaritch’s accusation, and simply states that he needs the embryo, exiting after handing another extraction advice to him.

Quaritch jostles you awake. “Axe. You gotta do something and then we got to leave, alright?”

You nod sleepily, and he hands you the extraction advice. You rub your eyes and then realize what you’re holding.

“Turn around?”

Quaritch gives you a “ really? ” sort of look, but you’re serious, so he raises his hands jokingly and complies.

It’s a really quick one minute procedure. The little device crawls up inside you in an almost-undetectable fashion, and then after a moment, it pops back out, with a symbol indicating that it has successfully taken the embryo out, and put it inside it’s storage section. It’s weird- you know you were told to come here when you were ovulating, but it’s like a pregnancy test. It confirms that you and Quaritch kind of made a potential baby… or something that will go on to become genetic material for a blank slate.

You’re too tired to care. You put your clothes back on, and yawn, feeling your eyes fluttering. Quaritch picks you up, bridal style, as you snuggle your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. He exits the room, sidestepping around different human RDA members, and Recoms and Avatars who are staring the two of you down. Looks of confusion among all of them.

Quaritch doesn’t give a fuck. He steps into an elevator, and it pulls the two of you up towards the higher floors of the skyscraper.

You know this will be gossip for all the other RDA members, but for now you can just sleep, completely satisfied.

#miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch smut #quaritch x reader #recom quaritch x reader #na'vi quaritch #quaritch smut #recom miles quaritch x reader #smut #na'vi quaritch x reader #avatar smut #colonel quaritch #miles quaritch #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water x reader #atwow #atwow smut #atwow x reader #atwow quaritch #na'vi x reader #na'vi #x reader #female reader #recombinant reader #recom!reader #avatar #avatar 2 x reader #avatar 2

[fromjannah]

THREE MONTHS AFTER THE (VERY REAL) HEART TRANSPLANT by me :)

plaintext:

Well it’s beating. Put your hand there. Go on. There. Feel it? Yes. They say the boy was eighteen years old and he clawed it out. They had to pick  fingernails out of the flesh. Hope there aren't any left. Haha. I think  I’d feel it. Clawing. That’d be new. For sure. I dunno where he’s from. Was from. Best guess is somewhere between the balcony and the ground. No not the sky. He doesn’t feel like going there. Well it’s beating. Boom boom boom. It’s a loud one. Yeah. You hear it? Yeah right. I did see it before. Jesus it was bloody. Smaller than you’d think. Haha. Feel it? Well  you like things in the brain, not – y’know. But I guess he liked the sea. Probably placebo. But I’ve been jonesing for a beach trip. Oh it was expensive. It’s a lot to give up. Though  I guess I didn’t have much. It’s more like a new piece of jewelry than anything. You know, I’ll place my hand there and play with it for a bit. Dig in. Claw. Haha. What? Oh, ruby red. Yeah that’s it. Feel it? Jesus tell me you do. It gets real faint sometimes. Like it can just give a few more beats and then it’ll jump for whatever’s in between. Haha. I guess some things never change. Maybe I’m not made for this shit. But it took root in my chest and it’s staying there. And, well. It’s beating. Boom.

#jannah speaks #jannah writes #poetry #might delete this after a minute. but it was fun

[wrencatte]

@breakfastteatime said to release the words, and I know how to make her regret encouraging that. here are some words. 736 of them to be exact. And towards the end are some BD-1 related words that will probably get some all caps in my replies. worth it prompt: solitary confinement - fic WIP - prediction: 5k one-shot.

He’s missing for only a few hours before they find him.

Curled up in a tiny ball, legs tucked under his poncho protectively, he almost blends in with the shadows. If it weren’t for the undercurrent of despair in his signature like a homing beacon in the Force, Cere thinks she would’ve missed him completely. It’s a far cry from the laughter that rang over the comms not that long ago – laughter that had cut off abruptly into static and sent them all scrambling.

Cere drops into the little room. Her landing is far too loud is such a tiny space, yet Cal doesn’t react. He doesn’t even twitch. She shines her torch somewhere near his face, whispering his name – and gets nothing. She ducks down to check for consciousness, only for her stomach to sink at the sight of a dull, listless stare.

“Oh, Cal,” she breathes.

She brushes hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears. It’s getting long, she notes. There’s a massive bruise in the middle of his forehead, black-dark and smudged on the edges. His lips are red with blood, speckling his chin. She checks under his poncho for more injuries, using the Force to aid her when her eye fail, and finds nothing life threatening she can sense, so she pinches her torch between her knees and gathers his hands in hers.

They’re cold.

Cere cradles them carefully, inspecting the damage. More blood, caked into his nail beds, glistening on the tips where the skin is rubbed raw. He’s missing nails on his pink and ring fingers. She glances down and finds smears of red – and white scores in the stonework, and a fingernail laying innocently in the dim light cutting through from above. Her heart aches. What happened to you?

She squeezes his hands rhythmically, partly to keep him warm and partly, partly because this is just something they do, when they’re able, when Cal gets caught up in a drawn-out echo. He likes the anchor to the present, he told them. He never feels it when he’s actually in the echo itself, but it’s always the first thing he’s aware of when he comes out of it. It makes him feel safer, knowing he’s not alone.

This doesn’t look like an echo, but even after all these months she’s nowhere near an expert on psychometry.

“Come back, Cal,” she whispers anyway, his hands so cold and his gaze so empty.

He doesn’t respond.

“Cere,” Merrin hisses from above. “The system will auto-boot soon. The droid cannot stop this one.”

“I’ve got him,” she calls back. Merrin says nothing more, but she sees the Nightsister hover at the edge of the ceiling door, peering down at them with barely hidden anxiety.

Cere is gentle as she gathers Cal into her arms, the Force helping her bear the weight. She doesn’t want to let him go, but she pulls her power close and raises him slowly until he’s high enough for Merrin to take. She double checks that nothing was left behind then follows them up with a Force assisted jump.

Merrin cradles Cal in her arms like he’s something precious, her expression pained and horrified. His eyes are still open, thin slivers of dull green between his eyelashes. His head falls over the crook of Merrin’s arm, exposing his throat in a way that makes Cere swallow thickly. Merrin nudges him until his temple is resting on her shoulder instead, curled up smaller than either of them have ever seen.

“What did they do to you?” Merrin asks, voice low and dangerous, the air sparking green around her. “I will kill them.”

Cere lays a hand on her shoulder. “We take care of Cal first,” she says. Merrin glares at her for a long moment before she reluctantly nods then climbs to her feet. “BeeDee! We have him!”

The droid dashes out of the shadows, whirl-clicking quietly, and clambers up Merrin to perch on her shoulder. His optics flash as he tries to start up his scanner, but they’re too damaged. He bwoops almost silently. It sounds wretched through his ruined speakers.

Cere taps his chassis in reassurance before they're off, alarm blaring loudly behind them. It's too late though. They rush into the Mantis just as the guards mobilize, shouts starting up when they find the guards around the cellblock Cal was in already taken care of.

#my writing #cal kestis

[liennka]

Fromage - part 1

Hannibal Lecter x Will's daughter/teen patient reader

Summary : When Y/N for once arrives early for her therapy, she ends up in a life-or-death situation... (s1 e08)

-> Feel free to insert yourself instead :) This is my first story and I am open to any criticism (be nice pls).

I just wanted to say that I am not the owner of this show, but I did make this story, so don't copy it without my knowledge, thank you.

Y/N was once again sat in the waiting room, awaiting her next session with Doctor Lecter. After some time, she gradually grew fond of her psychiatrist, who wore a “mask”, as she passed time trying to read his mind. It was not an easy task, but her efforts were bearing fruit as she was now able to recognise when he was bored, angry and most importantly, pleased. At that moment she knew he wouldn't be too happy with her early arrival, Hannibal didn't like his patients meeting each other, which was why they all had at least a 30 minute interval between each appointment. But her usual ride couldn't make it, and if she wanted to be on time, she had to take the bus, thus showing up an hour before she should have. 

----☆----☆----☆----

It was roughly halfway through the previous session when she heard footsteps in the hallway.  Y/N wondered who it could be, as she was Hannibal's last patient for the day. A tall black man in a suit made his way to the Doctor's door, walking slowly and steadily.

Something in Y/N felt wrong, her body hair rising and her mind automatically searching for the nearest exits. And she wasn't naive, it was her gut telling her to run. As much as she wanted to, she was cornered, the man approaching from one door and the other closed, if she tried to interrupt Lecter's session, he would kill her himself.

And when Y/N's chair was only a few meters away from him, she could finally see more details of his face. His dark expression, his dull eyes and the blood on his face. She sniffed and smelt some kind of acid and more blood, probably dried under his fingernails. Thanks to Will, she was more than just an average person, seeing few investigations and knowing the basics of corrupted minds. This man had the aura of a psychopath, the expression of a stoic killer and the smell of a mad scientist, if that wasn't enough she had no idea what was.

----☆----☆----☆----

She didn't knock, just quickly pulling on the doorknob, twisting it, opening the door and closing it right behind her.  A man was talking and then suddenly stopped as he saw her. Y/N's body was driven by her adrenaline, not minding the psychiatrist's look of shock and displeasure.

"There is a strange man. Blood on his face and hands," she whispered, her nerves causing her voice to rise an octave. 

Before Hannibal could say anything, Y/N retreated from the door and fled towards him. A few seconds after she had moved, the door opened again and that creepy man walked in. Y/N seemed to be the only one who did not know him, as the others quickly rose to their feet. Hannibal hid most of her body with himself, clearly hoping to shield her.  

"Tobias?" the smaller chubby man asked, eyes wide.

"I came to say goodbye, Franklin. I just killed two men," Tobias said coolly, some blood dripping from a missing chunk of his ear. 

"The police came to question me… " he added, intentionally leaving the sentence unfinished.

She tensed. Will never said where he was going, only telling her about his work when it was over. He himself never knew when Jack would snatch him and force him to solve another case. But this time she knew he was at work, leaving her no choice but to take the bus. And as always, her father would be the one to take care of all the murders in town. There was almost no chance that Will hadn't encountered this man. When Y/N looked at Hannibal, his composed facade was momentarily replaced by an expression of worry. She clutched at his jacket, her palm ruffling the cotton.

"You have to give yourself up, you might still be able to rehabilitate," Franklin pleaded with his friend. 

What a bloody idiot, she thought, there was no way Tobias would surrender, Franklin was more than naive, he was suicidal at this point. 

"Y/N, I want you to leave with Franklin, n-" Hannibal wasn't able to finish his sentence, but Y/N was swift and had already grabbed Franklin's suit. 

"Stay where you are, Franklin!" Tobias said furiously, interrupting Hannibal.

"No, no, no. We.Have.To.Go!" Y/N added weight to each word as she stepped into his field of vision. 

Franklin was momentarily flabbergasted, so Y/N took that opportunity and tightly grabbed his arm. But no matter how hard she pulled, Franklin's body wouldn't move, leaving her to try to drag him unsuccessfully towards Hannibal's desk. And then, when she thought he finally changed his mind, he turned around, not quite done with his motivational speech. He stepped back as he mumbled his words, letting her stay behind their doctor’s table.  Y/N was done with him. And so was everyone else.

----☆----☆----☆----

“I am not alone,” Tobias replied to one of Franklin's stupid quotes 

“That's right, you are not alone, nothing has happened in our real- ” Franklin's neck snapped, Hannibal behind him. 

The cracking sound was disgusting, making Y/N glance away. Franklin's body fell to the ground with a 'thud', sprawling his limbs like a puppet. 

"I was looking forward to that," Tobias groaned.

"I saved you the trouble," Hannibal smiled.

She was glued to the spot, watching them closely. As expected, Tobias got mad and threw his jacket on the floor. He pulled an iron cord from his pocket, a kind of weapon she had never seen before. He swung it a few times like a jojo, forcing Hannibal to retreat. Y/N made eye contact with her therapist and decided it was time to leave. She backed away to the patient's exit, not taking her eyes off the dangerous man for a second. Tobias tossed the wire at Hannibal and kicked him against the bookshelf. It looked bad for Hannibal, maybe if she was fast enough, she could call police. But only if she gets out first.

----☆----☆----☆----

Y/N had her hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly to prevent any sound from escaping. Much to her bad luck, it clicked and Tobias noticed.

----☆----☆----☆----

#child reader #teen reader #original character #hannibal nbc #will graham #hannibal lecter #short story #story #alternate universe #self insert #female reader #platonic #hurt/comfort #y/n #hannibal

[icanbeyourjedi-writes]

It Was Just A Dream... Chapter Two

Summary: Frankie is all moved in, or is he? A cute game of cat and mouse has an ending you wouldn’t expect, Frankie’s mood swings end with an outcome neither of them expected.  Words: 5,000+ Rating: 18+ Adult Themes Warnings/Triggers:  Addiction, Falling for Your Brothers Friend, Language, OFC is somewhat described as someone with longer hair, but no race/eye color/body type  

A/N: I don’t know much about addiction, just the things that I googled and seen portrayed on TV. This is completely an AU. I had the beginning of this story pop in my head randomly and thought it sounded fun to explore. Sure we all love Frankie was that sweet puppy dog…but what if he had his own inner demons he had to battle with.  The ‘coke charge’ was mentioned in TF and I kinda wanted to explore that side of him. 

**This is written asa  first person, and it's my first time writing in first person, so please be gentle with me. I also include Frankie's POV which will be Bold and Italics

It took two days, four, well three and a half strong men moved all of Frankie’s stuff. My house might be small, but the best part. Despite only having two bedrooms, the bedrooms are huge. The guest room is slightly smaller than my master and there isn’t an attached bathroom but still plenty is space for his stuff. I kept the small desk there, well honestly that was the only thing I had there. Five years of living here and my guest room was still empty. Mostly why I think Benny volunteered my space, I was also someone he knew. All of Frankie’s belongings were still in taped boxes. We didn’t know how long Benny was going to be gone, it made sense to bring more than just a duffle bag of stuff. 

It's been two weeks since he had moved in, his clothes still in boxes, extra bedding still in boxes. He’s been wearing the same gray sweatpants and black shirt since he got here. Now don’t get me wrong, I love a man in specifically gray ones as much as the next girl, but he hasn’t changed. I don’t even know if he has showered. Seeing him all mopey is making me mad and slightly frustrated. I know he would much rather be back at what has been his home for years, but he needs help and I want to help. I just have no idea what I am doing. I’m feeling guilty making him move, and I know I shouldn’t. 

Thanks to having no social life I had a lot of PTO built up, I’ve been off these two weeks trying to help him feel at home. It’s been mostly awkward living with him when it shouldn’t. Awkward grunts, one word answers, he eats alone despite my best efforts. Yesterday he came out of his room and talked to me, it was about a cricket outside his window that just wouldn’t shut up. It was the first time he seemed to be normal? Is that even the right word, what is normal? 

It’s late afternoon, and he had been in his room the entire day. Walking past his room and I see him sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the boxes sitting along the wall picking at his fingernails. He has had mood swings that have him going from happy to sad in seconds.  I thought about walking past him again, keep going on with my day.  But I couldn’t stand seeing the boxes still stacked. It felt like he was ready to move as soon as Benny stepped foot on American soil again, and I was terrified of seeing him live like he didn’t belong here.  I stop and gently tap on the open door, “hey…you want some help with those?”

He doesn’t look up at me, instead he just continues to stare at the box, “there’s just so much, I don’t know where to start” he takes a deep breath hanging his head 

I walk into his room, he is still sitting on the bed. I grab the top box labeled ‘shirts’ and then turn back towards him. I tap his foot with mine, motioning with my head he needs to move. He stands up and watches as I drop the box on the bed and start grabbing a few shirts and put them in one of the many empty drawers. I hear him sigh with disapproval and I look at him “What?” I groan in frustration 

“They need to be folded neatly, and by color. As well as style, but it’s fine…it’s fine. I’ll just do it later” he rubs the back of his neck

Call it being a perfectionist, I call it someone who was trained that everything always had to have order.  Everything needed to have crisp lines, be organized.  Having its rightful spot, years of military training would do this to a person and I was all too aware that it wasn’t fine.

I pull the shirts back out of the drawer, hoping he doesn’t see my eye roll and I set them back in the box. I didn’t expect this to be easy, but I also didn’t expect I was going to have to be his mother and not a friend. I didn’t think I was going to have to tell Frankie to eat, to take a shower. All the things I thought he already knew, was he like this in rehab? “Then refold the shirts and put them in the drawer” shit was that too aggressive? “I think I might make you feel more at home if you do” I put a hand on his shoulder gently rubbing it. 

I watch as he takes a shirt out, folds it meticulously. The edges of the shirt are perfect, he sets it on the bed, his hand running over the shirt, taking out any wrinkles. Every shirt has an order, by color, type, it is memorizing watching him as he moves. Folding every time with such perfection. I have to shake my head and snap out of it, I grab another box and open it to find it stuffed with boxers. He is completely focused on his shirts as I work to put the boxer briefs in a drawer hoping the fold in half method works for him. 

I pull out black pair after black pair.  There was an occasional gray mixed in. After seeing him in those gray sweatpants for the past two weeks my mind can’t help but imagine him in these and how great they would make his thighs look, his…’stop.  Don’t think about that. He’s now your roommate you can’t do that’ all those thots fall when I pull out a baby blue pair with little cat heads wearing headsets. Different types of helicopters fill the empty space between the cat faces. I can’t but giggle holding them up, Frankie stops what he is doing and looks up, “care to explain these” holding the boxers in the air and shake them, I arch an eyebrow at him smiling 

He reaches across and snatches them from my hands “nope…” he paused for a moment fold the boxers in half “you got them” he places them on the bottom of the drawer under the pile of black ones 

“I did?” I truly don’t remember. One would think someone would remember getting boxers that looked like that 

“Yeah, Christmas a few years ago” he returns his focus to the shirts in the box

”Oh my God, you’re right. I did” I laugh

”You said, that I was impossible to shop for, and you wanted something unique to remember you when I was away” 

Frankie is the most impossible person to shop for. He always would say he didn’t need anything, he said to not waste money on a guy like him. He wasn’t worth it. I watch Frankie roll his eyes as I tell him again that he is impossible to shop for. A hint of a smile begins to appear and I think that we might have a breakthrough. I finished the box I was working on, broke it down and leaned it against the wall. Frankie pulls out his last shirt and folds it, setting it on the top of a pile. Grabbing the small stack he turns and starts to put them in the top drawer. I grab the box and start to break it down when I see a film strip inside. I reach in and grab the photos. 

I stare at them, a clean shaven, wide-eyed twenty something Francisco Morales. I had a photo from this shoot, but I never saw these two. It was before his first deployment and the guys went and did some ‘glamor shots’ as a gag gift. Frankie’s in a purple shirt and leather jacket. His brown hair falling perfectly into place. The first photo his hands are in his back pockets. Showing off his impressive chest and broad shoulders, his smile that makes one’s heart beat a little faster and an instant panty dropper. The other, I swear, he could have been a model. His arms crossed over his chest. His biceps bursting the seams of his jacket, his lips pursed together in a brooding expression. Holy shit, he’s hot…“What do we have here?”

Frankie turns and looks at me, it takes a moment for him to realize what I’m holding in my hand. “Give those here” he reaches for them and I quickly pull them away

”Nope…” I laugh and hold them up, inspecting the photos a bit more

”Lex” he says, a bit more authoritative, it’s deep and it’s sexy. He takes a step towards me, I take a couple small steps towards his open door. I try to keep a distance between us 

I have a small idea, “you want them?” I ask slowly moving backward closer to the door, he starts to close the distance nodding his head yes, “then you’ll just have to come and get them” I smile and turn to run through the door. 

He bolts out of the room following me, I forget how fast he is and how incredibly silent he can be. He’s on my heels in an instant and I run a circle around the couch. Heading past him and into the kitchen, stopping at one end of the small island. He’s facing me on the other side “Lex…” he says.  I smile, laugh and run past his outstretched arm.  

“Gotta be quicker than that Morales” I ran around the house again, waiting for him to turn and find me again. I lose my breath as I’m back in his room, the bed as a barrier between us. I look at the photos and see him strut back into his room. I clearly didn’t think this through completely as I find myself trapped on the one side of the bed. Frankie blocking the only exit. He starts to walk around the bed, he’s standing at the end while I move further up closer to the headboard. I’m waiting for him, I have my escape planned. He fakes a step to the left towards me and I step up onto his bed. The piles of shirts start to fall when I bring my other foot up. He reaches across the bed, “Bad move, Miller” he snarls and wraps a hand around my ankle pulling it out and dropping me to the bed. 

I hold the photos above my head, he pulls me closer. Placing his thigh is between my legs and crawling the bed until  he’s hovering over my body. We’re both laughing and I struggle to keep the photos out of his reach. His large hand captures both of my wrists and pins them to the bed. I squirm below him, trying to break free.  “Stop moving” he grunts, his other hand lands on my hip. Holding me tightly in place, my shirt slightly raised and his thumb slowly rubbing against my bare skin. Our laughter slowly turns into heavy breathing. 

His face is so close, I can feel his warm breath. His eyes are so full of life now, I see the small parts of the old Frankie. The Frankie that became a friend, family, a crush. My heart is pounding and I am pretty positive Frankie can hear it, his hand is setting my skin on fire and I have no idea what is happening. But I want to kiss him, I want him to kiss me, I want to feel his lips on mine. “Frankie…” I whisper 

“Hmmm” he leans closer to me, his nose brushing along mine 

I don’t know what I was going to say, I didn’t imagine us ending up like this. I clearly didn’t think this through and I have no idea what to do. Time seems to move slow, and I don’t know how long we stay like this. His eyes focused on mine, I feel like he is looking into my soul. Does he want me to kiss him? Should I kiss him? His hand still wrapped around my wrists, the other still holding my hip. 

“KISS HIM ALREADY” my inner voice yells. I finally make a move, I close the short distance between, my lips just about to touch his when my phone rings in my back pocket. His hand releases my wrists and he sits up on the bed. I close my eyes, wishing I didn’t take so long to make the move. I reach behind me, pulling out my phone. It was work, I smiled and mouth a sorry to him, sliding the answer button and bringing the phone to my ear. “Hello” I stand and walk out of his room 

“Why didn’t I kiss her? She was right there…would she even want me to kiss her?” He thinks to himself, running his fingers through his hair 

He looks at himself in the mirror. The same sweatpants he’s been wearing for well over a week, he looked like a hot mess. At least the shirt was clean, or he thought his shirt was clean. He sees the unruly hair, the 5 o’clock shadow had turned into a fully grown beard. “Because you're a pathetic loser, look at you. She’d never want you to kiss her” that negative voice inside him says. Frankie shakes his head, hands covering his face. He rubs his eyes and tries to remember Will telling him wasn’t.  But the thing is, Will was never a very good liar and the voice becomes louder and louder. 

“Fishie…hey Fish” her voice brings him back. He looks up at her “hey, you ok?

“yeah…yeah” he says, but her face tells him she doesn’t believe him. 

“uhm, ok.  I gotta run to work for a bit. I’m not sure when I’ll be home but there’s money on the table. Order some take out”  

He nods, giving her his best smile and watches as she walks away. He hears the door open and close.  Standing up he peeks his head out the door, he doesn’t hear her. He just needs to take the edge off. He knows he will feel a lot better when he can’t feel anything again. He knows he doesn’t have much left, but enough to last him at least today. He’ll worry about tomorrow-tomorrow. Thank God he hid the green can well enough that Alex didn’t find it. Just one hit, that’s all he needs.

“Take a shower, you’ll feel better after a shower. You’re better than this” he can hear Will’s voice. 

It didn’t.

“Food, get some food. Don’t do this Cat” the voice says

My phone dances on my desk as I finish some paperwork. I had plenty of PTO built up, but the doctor's office had an influx of new patients and I was one of the few who knew how to enter all the data and get them set up. It wasn’t where I pictured myself when I graduated college with a degree in film.  But it’s a good paying job, and it kept me close to home. 

Fishie 🐟: u like Pad Thai 🍲 

Me: Not really, and I don’t think that’s Pad Thai haha

Fishie 🐟: oh ok what u want? 

I type back a response, telling him to order what he wants. The money on the table was for him to do what he wanted. I might not like Pad Thai, but that shouldn’t stop him from ordering it. I finish typing a few things and grab my phone. I walked over to some of my coworkers who were getting ready to head out as well. I lean against Laura’s desk. She was chatting with a few of the nurses, I watched my phone as the little bubble with dots popped up, then disappeared, appeared again, and disappeared again. I sigh, my head drops. His mood swings are driving me insane. 

Me: I like noodles, with teriyaki sauce if that counts as Pad Thai

“What’s up Buttercup” Laura smiles cheerfully

”Have you ever had to help a friend with an addiction?” I look up, the mouths all open “seriously. A friend, not me” 

“What kind of addiction?” Laura asks, she was my go-to at work. Her upbeat attitude always had the answers 

“Narcotics…” I reply 

Is this friend living with you?” a nurse asks 

I tell them how the friend just got out of rehab, I leave out the part that the friend is a he, and the he is Frankie. I tell them how rehab said something about how they shouldn’t be left alone, doctors orders they need to live with someone in case of a relapse. “Sometimes I feel like I see the person I became friends with, then sometimes hhhh-they are a completely different person. Someone I don’t even know and it’s only been two weeks” 

“Just keep being there for them, don’t push too hard. But they need to know you are there for him. I mean them, no matter what it is, they can trust you” she puts a hand on top of mine 

“You can’t give up on them.  No matter how hard they try to push you away, you push back. They’ll have their moments but like Laura said, you just need to be there. Letting them know you won’t give up on them” 

“Thanks,” I take a deep breath and stare at my phone, he still hasn’t responded “I just wish I knew what he needed, he doesn’t talk” 

“Give it time, he will open up when he’s ready” 

'Did she just say he? How does she know' I think

I walk into the house, kicking off my shoes and dropping my purse off on the little side table. I hear grunting from down the hall. ‘Oh please don’t tell me he has a girl here’ I think to myself moving towards his room. “Frankie?” 

T-Shirts he had just folded and pants were thrown into the hall. I move towards the open door dodging pants being thrown out as I get close, I look into his room and it looks like a tornado hit. The mattress shoved against the wall, drawers empty and pulled from the dresser, clothes thrown around the room. I see Frankie bent over in his closet he had on a new pair of dark green sweats on, he’s shirtless. Little water droplets still cling to his hair and a towel draped over the back of a chair. 

“Where the fuck is it?!” he shouts as I watch him throw more things around. 

“Where is what?” I ask, and instantly regret it 

He turned quickly looking at me, his eyes filled with rage and nostrils flaring. I’ve never seen this look before, and he slowly starts to walk towards me. There’s an evil glint to his eye and it scares me. 

“Where the fuck did you put it Alexandra?” He snarls 

“If you told me what you are looking for…” I tried to not raise my voice, trying to keep calm. He needs me to remain calm. 

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I’M LOOKING FOR! DON’T PLAY STUPID” 

The yelling intensifies and I know the neighbors can hear us, stay calm. Don’t make things worse. 

What happened to the Frankie from earlier? 

“I need you to calm down, Frankie. Please. Just tell me what you're looking for and I can help” I wanna put my hand on his shoulder, ground him. Let him know I’m here, but he’s breathing heavy, his lip curls up in an evil grin. 

“I know you have it!” he says in an oddly calm manner, “JUST GIVE IT TO ME!!!” He yells 

He takes a step closer, he raises his fist. I flinch as the closed hand comes flying towards me and it connects with the wall inches from my head. “Give it to me now Alex” he growls

“What in the hell is your problem!?” I yell shoving his chest back

“You! Benny! This stupid fucking place. I don’t want to be here!” His eyes begin to water and a tear streams down his cheek, he takes a couple steps back

“Fine, then fucking leave! No one is forcing you to be here Francisco” I try to hold back by own tears “I am sick and tired of seeing you being all mopey and shit.  You don’t want to be here, FINE” 

Shit…I am pretty sure I just over stepped. I go to open my mouth to apologize and there is a hard knock at the door followed by a “Police” 

“You called the Police?” He shouts 

“I’ve been standing in front of you the entire time arguing with you. When would I have had time to call the police?” I say, I back up and move towards the front door. The knocks become more aggressive “I’m coming!” 

I unlock the door and see three officers standing there. They all have a concerned look on their faces

”Good evening ma’am. We got a call about some yelling and wanted to make sure everything was ok” the taller officer said

”Everything is fine. It’s great. Just swell” my words are dripped with sarcasm

“Do you mind stepping outside to talk to my partner Officer James” he looks over my shoulder and sees Frankie, “hey there sir.  Mind coming over here for a moment?” 

He is sitting on the porch as she stands by the car. He fucked up, she’s given up on him. He’s given up on himself. 

“What’s your name?” The youngest officer asks him 

Frankie reads the name printed on his chest. T. Baker. “Frank, my name is Frank and everything is fine Officer Baker” 

Baker keeps asking bin questions.  What happened, did she hit him. Did he hit her? How long has he been living here? What was their relationship? Frankie becoming more annoyed with each question. What did it matter? He fucked things up and he needed a hit more then ever. He was looking for his coke, she found him on a downward spiral but there was no way he was going to tell him that. Suddenly the questions take a turn, when Officer Baker notices a tattoo on his chest. 

“What branch?” 

“Excuse me” Frankie responds confused 

“Your tattoo?”

“Oh yeah, Army. Special Ops, I was a pilot” 

He has a tattoo on the left side of his chest, a helicopter flying. A sun and clouds shaded in the background. The helicopter with incredible detail, one of the ones he first learned how to fly. A few men repelling from the bird.  Just below a group of trees

“Thank you for your service sir.  Wait here, I have some stuff for you” Baker nods his head and walks to the patrol car 

He watches him shuffle down the stairs, he sees Alex and for a moment they lock eyes. His heart nearly stops as he sees the tears in her eyes that she quickly wipes away. He caused this pain and for what, a stupid little hit that was nearly enough to take away the pain. He ruined everything. The afternoon was so great, and now she wants him out. Officer Baker was walking back with a stack of papers in his hand. 

“For the hundredth time, he didn’t hurt me. He would never do that” I groaned. I have said the same thing over and over. Are they trying to get a different answer? Despite Frankie punching a hole in the wall, he would never lay a hand on me. 

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes taking in a deep breath. When I open my eyes, I see Frankie. His eyes locked onto mine. The hurt, the pain, he looks lost. The officer hands him a stack of papers. His hands shaking as he takes them, he turns his head down and he walks into the house. 

“Ms. Miller, if you need anything else please give us a call” the officer sees his small notebook and sticks it in his chest pocket. “Have a good night” he walks past me and heads to his car. 

I head to the steps of my front porch watching the officer who had spoken to Frankie walk down. He stops me before I walk past him, “he’ll be ok. Just give it time. I’ve been there. He’s got a good girlfriend, just be patient with him” 

I stop in my tracks, my jaw drops. What the hell did Frankie tell him? “Wait…what?” I ask. But it was too late, the officer already getting back into his car. I shake my head and walk into the house locking the door behind me. 

It’s getting late and I’m hungry. I walk past the hallway that leads to the bedrooms and notice Frankie bent over picking up the clothes that had been thrown into the hallway. I should say something, I should apologize to him. I get distracted, watching the muscles in his back strain with every movement. ‘Focus Alex’. What is wrong with me, this man just put me through a roller coaster of emotions. I can’t get distracted by something as stupid as watching him work. 

I shake my head and walk towards the kitchen. I hope to find some leftover takeout since I know the fridge is empty. Instead I find the $20 left on the table in the same exact place I left it. I can’t leave, that would require me letting Frankie know, and it might be petty but I really don’t want to talk to him right now, maybe even for the rest of the night. I open the freezer and pray that the ice cream is still there. I open the door and find the pint of cookie dough ice cream still sitting there. I do a little happy dance and grab a spoon. I make my way to the living room and flop down on the sofa, turning on the TV and pop the top off digging in. 

“I fucked up…” he says to himself folding the shirts, putting them back in the dresser. He pushes the mattress back onto the frame and sits on the edge of his bed. He looks up and sees the hole he had punched into the wall. An image of Alex’s face floods his memory. He fucked up so bad that she didn’t even say two words to him when she came back into the house. He left the pamphlets on the coffee table, she’s going to find them. He knows it.

The papers were for local rehabs where VA’s held sobriety classes.  They had everything from AA to NA to Gambling. He didn’t want to go to rehab again, he felt more alone then he ever had there. That’s where he met George, well Steve really. He made it though those 30 days thanks to him smuggling in just enough coke to help them both function like normal adults. Nicole, well she helped in other ways. One keeping his secret and she helped him take his mind off things when he was able to bury himself in her. She wasn’t who he wanted, but she was there.  She was a quick fuck. It didn’t mean anything, and he felt bad when he told her it wasn’t going to last when he left. His mind racing with all these thoughts, he’ll finish cleaning later. He’ll patch the hole tomorrow. Right now he has something bigger to take care of. He needs to repair this whatever-ship he had with Alex. He needs her. 

He plops on the couch next to her, she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look at him, she focused on the ice cream in her hand and the moving pictures on the TV

”Ice cream for dinner?” He asks ‘great icebreaker Morales, you idiot’ his inner demon mocks him 

“Yeah, the perk of being an adult. No one can tell me what to eat Franklin” she stuffs another spoon into her mouth, “that and someone didn’t buy dinner like I told them too” 

‘She called me Franklin…maybe she’s not that mad’ he reads her face, it’s softened…a hint of a smile. Then she said that last part, and it changes to instant regret. She turns to look at him “shit. I’m so sorry that was-“ 

“No…no I deserved that” he interrupts her, “can I have a bite?” 

She eyes him, something between a grin and a smirk on her face. She sticks the spoon into the ice cream and scoops out a tiny pile, moving the spoon to his open mouth. 

“I’m sorry Lex he says mouth full of ice cream

He looks at the ground, he’s picking at his nails. I can see the inner struggle he’s having and it breaks my heart, I have no idea how to help. I watch as his mind tries to find the words he wants to say. I go to open my mouth, but he stops me “I am really sorry” he says again 

“What happened today?” I ask him setting the ice cream on the table and turning to face him 

“I was looking for…fuck…I was looking for some coke. I thought I had some left. I am so sorry. I didn’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. Rehab didn’t do shit” he’s talking fast and I’m trying to keep up. 

He tells me about George, how they were doing just enough to get by.  Nicole helped them not get caught. He doesn’t know how George was able to get the contraband in, but he did. They exchanged information, and he was helping Frankie. He wasn’t doing as much as he used to, which I guess is good, he thought he had some left.  A small tin can was what he was looking for, he was terrified that I found it when we were unpacking. 

“How many days has it been?” I ask 

“I don’t know, maybe five days?” He doesn’t sound very positive 

“Maybe five days? How many days Frankie?” 

“Three…it’s been three days and I am going crazy” he says ‘then we almost kissed and I panicked and I was on edge and just needed a hit’ he thinks to himself 

“ok” she says and stands up. 

“Wait where are you going?” He asks, panic setting in 

He’s worried that she is going to get his bag, she’s gonna ask him to leave. This is too much, this isn’t what she signed up for. She’s given up on him. His head falls back, he wants this couch to eat him alive. He wanted to disappear before and that feeling is ten times worse, now that she knows his secret. 

She comes back a large poster in her hand, the other has a sharpie and stickers. She sits it on the table and sits on the floor next to Frankie. He watches as she makes little boxes, writing dates, making a calendar. Her tongue peeks out of her tongue as she concentrates on the task at hand. He leans forwards, and continues to watch over her shoulder. She looks up at him, “ok did you use today?”

He shakes his head no “I couldn’t find it”

“right..” she puts a little star sticker on today's date “and you said three days since the last time”

He nods. She puts a sticker on the past three days

“What are you doing?” He asks 

That was a great question. What was I doing? This idea sounded crazy in my head, even more crazy as I explained to Frankie. It would be like a reward chart.  Something like when you were a kid and had chores, you’d get a sticker for each thing completed. The more stickers you get a reward. The more I say this, and look at his face of confusion the more dumb this idea sounded. He isn’t a kid, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. 

“This is stupid, just forget it.” I sigh pushing the stuff away from me

His large hands stop the poster from moving, he brings it closer. 

“What is my reward?” He asks curiously 

“Uhm…what do you want?” 

“Pancakes…” he says

”Pancakes? Really?” and he nods “ok how about we start with a week, you make it a week, I’ll make you pancakes” 

“With sprinkles?” His boyish smile is back, his eyes wide and I have a little hope that this stupid, wacky, insane idea might work

I smile and nod at him. I move to sit next to him on the couch, “I’ll have to go buy some. But sure, you can have sprinkles” 

“Hey Lexi, one more thing?” He asks “Can we get some helicopter stickers?”

I smile and cup his cheek, my thumb gently brushing the trimmed beard, “yes Franklin. We can get some helicopter stickers” 

ANN: A huge shout out to @musings-of-a-rose for helping me with this and giving me confidence to post this in first person. I am still terrified of it. @theewokingdead and @heythere-mel for listening to my random ass ideas at all hours. I love each and every one of you.



Looking for more of my fics check out my masterlist. And check out other writers at @littlemisspascal and their library for all Pedro Characters



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#Christina Writes #Just A Dream #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal Characters #Frankie Morales #Francisco Morales #Triple Frontier #Pedro Pascal Characters Fan Fic #Frankie Morales x OFC #Original Female Character #Frankie x F!Reader #triple frontier au

[keysimash]

fuck it. Cringe ass Magolor post from yours truly.

I've wanted to write a proper fic where the tables are turned and instead of Reader petting kitty Magolor, magolor pets and gives physical affection to the reader, but burnout and writers block and embarrassment have mostly stopped me but iys cute and its fluffy and whatever I'm throwing this into the wind, outline and.general thoughts I've had

Cringe incoming

Magolor is always happy to recieve pets from a trusted human with their giant warm hands with long, dextrous fingers that can scritch and pet in ways his own hands cant,

The first time he reciprocates would probably be around 4 - 5 sessions, citing that he "doesn't accept it for free" and that its polite to reciprocate and he wants to look at and examine your weird humanness more closely

OR

if he gets Jealous of His Human coming into his vicinity smelling like Other Fucking Carnivores. Originally in my deleted/reuploaded mag/reader fic this was gonna be a whole thing where the reader was friends with a bunch of Scarfies, and he got PISSED and basically marked the reader by getting super cuddly all of a sudden, the reader doesn't know because humans cant smell like that, and they try to hang out with their Scarfy friends who are like. Staying at least six feet away like "Ummmm. Did you get a boyfriend??? You've got DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH scent all over you lol"

I mean. I've been around mag/reader fics since I was like what, twelve? That sounds right, I dunno I can hardly attach a numerical age to kid memories ANYWAY I've SEEN. how many ppl write him as super possessive and jealous ESP fuckers who are horny for the crowned version you are all sinners none of you are free from sin. This cat is not well adjusted. Anyway

He'd start with your hands, taking them in his gloves, then he'd take his gloves off himself. His hands are smaller under his gloves but still pretty big compared to his own body. Still, though, I think they'd be about the size of a human hand, if Magolor himself is about the size of a backpack, since in official art it seems like his hands are half the size of his body?

I picture them soft and brown, scarred, with squishy pink paw pads on the soft parts of the palm and the last pads on his finger tips. He flexes them, and dark claws come out, relaxes, they retreat: repeat this a few times before he places his gloves neatly somewhere nearby, putting them there without looking or turning, hes already seen the room: hes looking at You, big yellow eyes, glowing a bit. White pupils all wide, taking you all in, making his eyes look lighter.

When he actually starts touching it would be more curious that affectionate, hed definitely be bending fingers and gently moving your elbows, not painful, just Examining, his skeleton is so different after all, and he has no limbs to speak of. he presses deep with his hands until he feels the bones underneath, puts his hands in different spots, on your shoulder, asks you to move and feels the bones move with. Takes a claw and runs it under your fingernail, just barely pressing in, not enough to hurt, just enough tto scrape out any dirt, remarks on how dull your claws are.

The readers own reaction would definitely affect his a lot. He really needs input from others to figure out how to compose himself, a calm and composed yet pleased reaction would fluster him more than anything as he would start to get embarrassed himself doing something so focused on another and yet, he would want praise very badly.

Teasing him would get teasing back:

He would call you silly names making fun of your human features if you teased him lol like "foot-haver" or "magicless loser" etc (he would immediately stop if you seemed actually upset)

but it wouldnt take much to make him into mess ;)

Any flusteredness or embarrassed behavior he will latch onto and tease relentlessly in order to feed his own ego and false confidence, somethin like:

"Hah! You should see your face" "does it feel that good? I havent even done anything yet"

If he gets called out on making petting seem .. less innocent he will accuse you of being the one with a dirty mind lol

The two possibilities here are either his human partner gets more flustered, which might go something like:

he starts purring at the reaction to his own touch, starts running one claw lightly along your arm. Presses up close, close with his head under your chin, purring purring purring, you can feel it and hes like a little furnace. Because he floats he can press his whole weight against a human with little effort, he presses and nuzzles then his hands find the back of your shirt and knead. His face he rubs along your shoulders and neck

OR the tables get turned on the cat egg:

Pointing out his purring, saying something like "you seem excited to do this, dont you? :)" Or commenting on how cute or lovely he is and keeping on doing it, hitting that reward center in his brain so starved for attention -- hed probably make a cute little sound at that -- or if a human touched him and started petting him while he was trying to give affection, that reciprocation would make him pull his scarf down and lick one long stripe up your arm.

I was thinking about Halcandran tongues: carnivores, yes, so barbed like a cats to lick the meat off bones, but: they're not exactly flexible like a cat, they can move but not as freely, they're not exactly egg shaped but still. So grooming would become, either something one did with ones own hands or, a communal activity, social bonding.

He would feel scratchy, his face soft: a lot flatter than a normal cat, he still has a bit of a muzzle but not much. The whiskers tickle, he pauses at the crook of your elbow, looks up at you, licks a few more times, pulls away a bit.

"You taste salty..."

If allowed to continue he certainly will, kneading and laving over the crook of your neck, nibbling curiously at collarbones before nosing into the dips they make under your skin, etc etc. He will examine the shell of your ear with a paw, purring close to it, will lick through your hair if it's short, it would be like fur to him; long hair he would comb through with fingers, hovering around you to nuzzle the back of your neck, purring all the while.

Eventually, he might get to your hands, and he would, well. I should stop before I make a post tha would get me banned from.tumblr, lol.

[desertdollranch]

Helena has arrived!

A couple weeks ago I mentioned that A Girl for All Time is having a warehouse sale with huge discounts on their products. I knew I'd never get Helena for that cheap, so I went for it! Friends, listen to me......... she's incredible. From head to toe, she's perfection.

Helena Marchmont is a spirited 12-year-old girl from 1820. She would rather be running wild outdoors with her cousins at Henley Manor than participating in endless tea parties and dances. But her life becomes much more interesting when she receives a mysterious trunk for her birthday!

A Girl for All Time dolls are based in the United Kingdom, and the character dolls focus on time periods spanning the 1500's to today. In that way they're very similar to American Girl.

The biggest difference between the two brands is their size. The three characters who do have story books only have one, and Helena has none, other than the small blurb on the box she arrived in. The dolls also have few to no other outfits or accessories available. That's fine with me because I can sew my own doll clothes and I look forward to making Helena a nice little collection, but that may be an issue for other collectors.

But the similarities are in their high quality dolls, with lots of love and attention paid to the smaller details.

Helena's dainty little hands have carefully sculpted fingernails and blushing across her palms. She can hold things easily.

She has an all-vinyl body with inset eyes that don't blink.

She is articulated at the elbows and knees. They bend a little bit, but her arms don't extend outwards very much.

Her wig is beautiful, so soft and realistic.

Under her rose-pink dress, she has pantalettes, stockings, and faux leather shoes.

The sale at A Girl for All Time is still going on, so check it out if this interests you! They're making way for new products to come.

#a girl for all time #helena #16 inch dolls

[theoddcatlady]

My Father Survived The Chair of Truth

I was the only one home when my father called me in for his death bed confession.

He wasn’t very old in the grand scheme of things, only fifty-eight, but after a violent mugging that took place about twenty years ago, his physical health hadn’t always been great. It really took a downhill turn last year. Heart failure. And it just wasn’t getting better.

My sister Amber and I were taking care of him as his health deteriorated. Last week though, Amber was running errands for our grandmother, so yeah. I was alone. When dad called for me I thought he might need a drink or help getting to the bathroom.

Instead, he told me to sit down. He told me I needed to know the truth, the truth about the mugging and about what really happened that night.

After all of this, he’d pass in his sleep a few hours later. I can’t ask for any more details. All I can do is relay this story to you… and find out how much truth there really is to it. Below is the confession, word for word.

~*~

You know, if your mother and I weren’t in the middle of our first separation, it may have never happened. I wouldn’t have been alone in bed that night. Alone in the house, since she took your older sister with her and you were still two months out from being born. That following morning I was found on the streets, all bloodied up, pockets turned out and missing my shoes. They concluded I had been mugged. I let them maintain that conclusion.

I hadn’t even left my house the night before. It was an early night, I was tired from work. I basically passed out on the couch while the TV was on. I don’t remember if anyone broke in, if I woke up before they abducted me.

The next thing I do remember? Waking up strapped to a chair, dressed in white scrubs with electrodes plastered on my now shaved head and sitting with a circle of people in the exact same condition.

I only recognized three of the other people there, and I only knew two of their names. One of my classmates from back when I was in high school was to my right, I barely recognized Magnolia since most of the blonde hair had been shaved right off. A few patches were still plastered to her scalp, whoever had taken the razor to our heads hadn’t been the most meticulous about it. Perhaps because they had a lot to get done before we woke up.

The other two I recognized was Augusta, an older woman who lived down the street from where I grew up, and the homeless man that I usually saw begging for cash in downtown was to my left. I didn’t know his name, I only recognized him because he’d been there every day.

There were eight of us in total. The woman right across from me had smeared lipstick and a cut on her forehead, maybe the razor had slipped during her head shave. Next to her was another woman with long fake fingernails and a natural scowl that was even there when she was unconscious, like she sucked on lemons in her spare time. The most conscious of us was a middle aged guy with a few more bruises than the rest of us, I imagine he put up a fight, he was a big dude. Finally there was this portly, smaller man who didn’t need his head shaved, since he was already bald as an egg.

Magnolia began breathing faster when she came to full consciousness, glancing around wildly and in full panic. “What the fu- where am I!? What’s going on!?” She yanked at the straps, which didn’t so much as budge. “Get these things off me?! Help! Someone help!”

The burly bruised guy shushed her loudly. “Quiet down. Don’t want to alert the wrong people we’re up,” He craned his neck around to look at the room around us, it was quite bare other than the circle of people strapped to heavy duty chairs- dark brick walls, a cement floor with a drain in the center. The only light was in the center of the ceiling, and that thing was set on to bright as it could go. Everyone looked a little washed out, a little pale, sickly.

The one thing I had missed was the speaker, attached to the wall right behind my head. It crackled to life before shrieking with feedback. This definitely got everyone awake, the portly fellow moaning and bitching the loudest while the woman with smeared lipstick being the only one perfectly quiet. Her eyes I remember the most, dark and careful. She was watching everyone in the room.

“Welcome, everyone.”

Once the feedback died down, the male voice coming from it was perfectly calm, smooth. It would’ve almost been soothing if the situation surrounding it wasn’t so bizarre.

“I am the Judge.”

I flexed against the bindings experimentally. There was no coming loose from them. I was stuck there, here for whatever this ‘Judge’ had planned.

“You sit in them now because you have all committed crimes. Crimes ranging from white lies to ones that may result in… capitol punishment.”

The scowling woman’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, capitol punishment?”

“This is my court room. Where we are, no one will hear you scream. I advise you don’t cry out unless you can’t avoid it.” The Judge didn’t even take note of the interruption. “These are my Chairs of Truth. When we are finished, you will pay for what you’ve done. If you lie or talk your way around the truth, you will be punished. We will start with you, Connie.”

The scowling woman sputtered. “How dare you! I’m not a criminal! Do you know who I am?”

“Yes. Of course I do, Connie Andrews.” The Judge sounded almost… amused. “I know everything about you. Your first question is this: where do you go every Wednesday afternoon?”

“Are you for real?” Connie looked genuinely baffled.

“We are starting with an easy question. One that has minor effect on your life, legally or illegally. Where do you go every Wednesday afternoon?”

Connie looked relieved. “Um… I get my nails done,” Her fingers tapped on the arm of her chair. “What, is that a crime?”

“We’ll come back to that. Frankie? Can I call you Frankie, Frank Smith?”

The burly guy shifted in his chair. “You can,” He decided.

“Frank, during highschool, what was the extracurricular you and your wife participated in?”

“I was a football player, she was a cheerleader.” Frank cleared his throat. “And who are you?”

The Judge quietly chuckled. “I am not important. I am here only to fulfill judgment, officer,” He cleared his throat, “Onto the next. Augusta Armstrong? How many children do you have?”

My neighbor looked terrified, shaking in her chair like a scared Chihuahua. “I have five, they’re the light of my life. Please, please, let me go,” She whimpered.

“If you answer these questions, we can see about that. Charles Nolan?”

“When I get out of here, I’m going to sue you!” The man snapped, lurching in his chair. It didn’t so much as budge, it had been bolted to the floor.

“Charles, what is your occupation? No need for specifics, you like those, I’m aware.”

“Businessman, I work for-”

Charles suddenly breathed in sharply. I had to crane my neck around the homeless guy to see what had happened. I only caught the glimpse of what looked like a sewing needle exiting Charles’ arm and going back into the chair, a pinpoint of blood beading from his skin.

Fuck. I took a better look at the chair, which I’d only assumed was a heavy duty wooden chair. Now I saw there was holes all in it, some small enough for needles to come out and jab, others thin slats that looked large enough for daggers to come out and slice through us.

“When I say something, I advise you listen,” The judge explained patiently. “Harley Scott?”

The homeless man lifted his head up. I’d never heard his name before then. It was strange, finally putting a name to the face I’d seen so often. “Yes?” He said, barely louder than a whisper.

“Harley, what branch of the military were you in, and what was your rank?”

“A-army,” Harley swallowed, “Private.”

“Edward Adkins.”

I flinched when I heard my name.

“What is the date of your wedding anniversary?”

I actually had to think for a second. My mind was running blank.

“What is the date of your wedding anniversary? Don’t make me ask a third time.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I- it’s June 6,” I managed to get out.

I felt genuine relief when he went on to Magnolia, asking what she did for some extra spending cash, and she responded that she was a babysitter. The final question was asked to the woman with smeared lipstick and careful eyes, and it asked where she lived. I don’t remember the exact address, but I know it was in a rough part of town. Part of town I’d never go, anyway.

The Judge sighed, sounding pleased with our cooperation. “Very good, so far, only one punishment had to be doled out,” He said.

“Oh go fuck yourself!” Charles snapped. This did get the needle jabbing back into his arm, right where the wound had just began to scab over.

“These questions are not going to get any easier. In fact, they will be harder. So learn to cooperate and answer truthfully now. It will save you later.”

I expected him to start going around the circle again. Instead, the voice surprised me.

“What is your occupation, Delilah?”

“Unem-” Delilah cut herself off, sighing. “I bet that’s not what you mean. Fine. Sex worker. Prostitute. Hooker. Whatever you want to call it. That what you wanted to hear?”

“Very well. Charles, how did your friend Rosemary Marshall make so much money from your company’s stock?

Charles shifted. “Good luck?” He tried to lie, so poorly though that no one was convinced.

I didn’t expect to hear the crackle of electricity and Charles’ eyes to bug out of his sockets, his teeth clamping so tight as his body jolted with electric current running through his veins. When he finally did manage to scream, he flopped back against his chair, screeching and howling at the top of his lungs. The room beforehand reeked of antiseptic, now I could detect a faint hint of urine. The rest of us sat in mostly dumb silence, the only sounds being Charles gasping for breath and Augusta crying. I certainly didn’t know how to react.

“Charles? Answer the question correctly.”

“I…” Charles swallowed. “I gave her some information… that helped her out. She’s a single mom, she needed the money!”

“Which you took a cut from. About ten thousand dollars, a high price from the single mom you claim you sympathize with. Edward?”

Fuck.

“How did you pass your final exam in algebra, senior year?”

I actually sighed with relief. That wasn’t nearly so bad as I expected, since I was following up on Charles’ question. “My friend helped me cheat.”

“Your friend’s name?”

“Jordan. Jordan Mills. He was a genius, he knew I needed his help. He gave me the answers.”

The Judge paused for a moment before turning on Magnolia. “And you, Magnolia? How did you pass your SATs with such high scores? Remember, I can see the rest of your grades. They’re… barely mediocre.”

“What!? They’re-” Magnolia glanced over at Charles, who still looked like a mess. “… I cheated too,” She grumbled.

“Both of you, such poor students, in the same graduating year,” The Judge tutted his tongue, “Our future generation is looking so promising already. Frankie, what happened to the cocaine from the raid on the Wolfe home?”

“It’s in evidence,” the answer came out so fast I think ‘Frankie’ didn’t even consider it a lie, and for a second I thought it wasn’t a lie either.

Then the knife came out and sliced clean through the meat of his shoulder. To his credit, Frankie just breathed in sharply, gritted his teeth and took it.

“I presume you want to change your answer?” The judge asked as the knife slid back out, blood now staining Frankie’s white scrubs.

“Mm… mmhmm,” Frankie exhaled slowly, his body shaking as his face went white. “M-me and another officer took some. S-sold it to someone we knew was a dealer.”

“Therefore putting it back on the streets that you swore to take it off of?”

“It’s different!” Frankie swallowed, his eyes fluttering shut as his shoulder continued to bleed. “The original punks were dealing to highschoolers, kids! The dealer we sold to, he only sold it to thugs who have already ruined their lives.”

“… An interesting point of view, for sure,” The Judge said. “Now, Augusta? How did you get your eldest to sleep sometimes?”

“Oh, I’d rock him to sleep,” Augusta bobbed her head up and down, “He was always so fussy, and-”

She didn’t even get a chance to finish her lie. Her whole body seized up and she screeched as the electric crackle filled the room. It wasn’t as long a shock as it was for Charles, but Augusta looked far worse for wear, gasping and coughing as she tried to calm down.

“Augusta. Stop lying.”

Augusta wailed before her head flopped forward. “A… little whiskey in his bottle… never really hurt anyone, honest, how could I ever hurt my own children?” She said.

I was blown away. Magnolia cheated on SATs, a police officer dealing drugs, and now one of the nicest neighbors on my block gave her kids alcohol so they’d sleep. Christ.

It didn’t get better. That first round wasn’t always fair, after all, all I had to answer for was a false grade, and Harley admitted he took part of a military hazing in which the poor victim had to streak across the base naked. Meanwhile Connie confessed to cheating with a married man and convincing him to leave his wife for her, only to completely blow him off once the wife took the sap for all he was worth. He couldn’t spoil her if he was broke, after all.

I only lied once, I learned quickly enough after that. It was over something stupid, about driving drunk and getting into an accident, slammed into a tree. Jordan covered for me that time too, said he was the one driving since I was tanked. I’d never been electrocuted before that day and I never wanted to again. I didn’t judge Charles for wetting his pants after that, you lose all control when you get shocked like that and that’s all I’ll say about it.

It’s amazing how often some of them chose to lie, and which ones chose not to. Delilah never once lied, completely blank faced as she told us how she robbed one of her johns of everything in his wallet because he passed out drunk or how she didn’t tell her boyfriend that she tested positive for gonorrhea, although the Judge was kind enough to inform her that it was likely him that infected her and not vice versa. Harley only lied twice, once about that hazing and another time about how he abandoned his pregnant girlfriend without even a note.

Meanwhile, Charles had to be shocked and stabbed nearly ever other question, and Augusta lied literally every time. The elderly woman I’d thought was the kindest soul admitted to so many shitty things, some things I can’t even say. All I can say is I pity those poor children of hers, with such a nightmare mom that would beat them for shattering a glass or literally calling the police on her second youngest when he brought his black girlfriend home. She had claimed the girl was trying to rob them. Actual sociopath.

We’re all devils, you know. Devils with different sins blackening our hands, tearing up our souls. No one is innocent. And the Judge knew every one of those sins, no matter how some of us tried to hide them. I wish I knew how he knew that Frankie beat a suspect to get a confession, only for it to be revealed that suspect was innocent all along. I can’t even imagine how he found out that Magnolia slashed her ex boyfriend’s tires because she was mad at him for dumping her, especially since he dumped her since she was so goddamn controlling he couldn’t even see his friends.

For that final round, we all looked fucked up. Shocked, stabbed with everything from knitting needles to steak knives, being forced to reveal our darkest secrets around people that were acquaintances at best, and most were just strangers.

“It’s time for your final question. You will only have one chance to answer this properly. We will start with Augusta.”

Augusta definitely looked the worst off. Like I said, she lied every question, sometimes even more than once. I was surprised she was still alive.

“Augusta, how did your eldest two children die?”

Augusta shakily inhaled and my heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach.

“Doctors… don’t know… I don’t either… mystery illness took my babies from me when they were just six and four years old… let me go home,” Augusta whined.

The Judge sighed.

“Augusta, that’s not the truth. And I told you, this time you would only get one chance to answer correctly.”

The door on the far end of the room and the Judge finally walked out. We finally saw his face. He was tall, well built, probably at least a little handsome, but by that time my brain felt like watery pudding so all I could do was blankly stare at him. He pushed in front of him a television connected to a VHS player, tapes stacked on top of the screen.

The Judge plucked the first tape up, showing us all the name ‘AUGUSTA’ written in black sharpie on the front. He placed the tape in the VHS player and stepped back.

It was a recording of medical documents, a lot of them. The camera panned over several paragraphs nice and slow so we could get the general gist. And that general gist? Augusta’s children would get sick for no discernible reason, but would recover at the hospital. Once they got sent back home, they’d just get sick again. And one day, they both got just too sick and passed away.

“Munchhausen’s by proxy,” The Judge said, and I saw true pain in his eyes as he stood by the wall, where eight switches were neatly lined up. Each of them had a name beneath them, our names. “What are your final words, Augusta?”

“I…” Augusta shook her head. “No, I loved my children, I really did…”

She paused to take a breath and that’s when the Judge flipped the switch.

Augusta writhed and her eyes went so wide they looked like they were going to fall out of her head. She wailed one last time before her eyes rolled back and then the only movement from her came from the electric current.

The switch was turned off and the Judge looked back at us. Then he raised his hand and had his fingers ready at Delilah’s switch.

“Delilah?”

The woman, the truthful one, finally looked up. “Yes?” She asked.

The Judge stared at her. “Your boyfriend. Calvin McLaughlin. Was his murder premeditated?”

“… Yes.” Delilah bowed her head. “… he had friends in the force. He was getting out of jail for nearly killing me, because none of them believed me. So I just waited for him to get home. I waited for him to get drunk. And I wasn’t going to wait for that first punch, so I took a baseball bat and I smashed his head in.”

There was a deathly quiet pause before the judge lowered his hand from Delilah’s switch. The Judge turned his gaze on Frankie, who went pale.

“How did your wife die, Frankie?” He asked.

Frankie, to his credit, did come off as convincing. “Car accident. She went off the road, killed her instantly,” He said.

The Judge did his best to hide any emotion to us, but I did see that look of murderous intent as he grabbed another VHS that had Frankie’s name written on it. He put it in.

Another recording of another document. An autopsy report, about how a Mrs. Nancy Smith had many injuries that were in different phases of healing. How her ribs had been broken multiple times in the past, and this time one of those rib fragments broke free and punctured her heart. Followed by that were reports, doctor’s reports about Nancy’s many visits to the hospital, all for ‘accidents’.

“Was Nancy that clumsy, Frankie?” The Judge asked quietly. “I highly doubt it. Your last words?”

“You don’t understand!” Frankie blurted out. “No one seems to understand how hard our job is, what we see! It takes a toll! It’s not my fault that Nancy didn’t get it-”

I turned away from this electrical death, and when I heard the electrical chair powered down I looked up to see a froth bubbling from the dead cop’s lips, his dead eyes staring at the now flickering light on the ceiling.

“Connie Andrews?”

Connie slowly looked up at the Judge, her face twisted in rage.

“Where did you get the poison for all of the husbands you killed?”

“Fuck you,” She spat at him, saliva landing on his clean white shirt. The Judge simply wiped it off, picked up another tape that no doubt had her name on it, and put in the VHS player.

This time it wasn’t a document, it was a woman exiting a nail salon and heading into a small drug store that happened to be right next door. It was clear the video was taken from someone’s car. Connie exited the store about ten minutes later with a small bag. A newspaper was raised in front of the camera, revealing the date.

“This was two days before your third husband mysteriously passed in his sleep. Your last words?”

Connie went white as The Judge raised his hand for her switch. “No, wait! Don’t do it! I’ll give you whatever you want! I’ll confess! I’ll tell the truth!” She yelped.

Click. The acrid smell of Connie’s fake fingernails melting was so bad it made my head spin.

Magnolia shook her head wildly as The Judge went to her switch next. “I never hurt anyone! What the hell are you doing?!” She screamed, thrashing about so wildly I thought she might actually tear an arm free.

“What did you tell your boyfriend, Zachary Cullen, to do before he shot and killed himself?” The Judge’s stare.

“That… that wasn’t my fault!” Magnolia shook her head again and again, the strap holding her head in place actually coming loose. “How was that my fault?!”

The Judge held up a finger before pulling a voice recorder from his pocket. “This doesn’t need video,” He said simply before he hit play.

The conversation I heard… I can’t repeat it. It was too terrible. Magnolia telling her boyfriend again and again how worthless he was, how he was such a pathetic waste of space, and how she couldn’t wait for him to kill himself because that was the only good thing he’d ever do for himself.

The recording ended with a gunshot. The Judge cocked his head to the side.

“Your last words?”

“How was that my fault!?” Was all she wrote. Being right next to the person being shocked, it’s… it’s so disgusting. I could smell the burning hair and skin, hear every garbled sound that ripped its way out of her throat as she jolted and contorted in horrifying ways.

Charles moaned loudly as The Judge approached the switch. “Don’t. Don’t ask,” He said, even though he knew what would happen.

“Charles? Last month, early morning. Rushing to work because you were late. Did anything happen on that drive?”

Charles didn’t even speak, he just shook his head.

Another tape was taken off the VHS player, the Judge flashing the front to show off Charles’ name.

This was from a traffic cam. A couple was walking across the street, probably the same age your mother and I were at the time. The collision happened so fast, the car slammed into them and sent the man flying over the hood while the woman was crushed under the car. The car stopped for a moment, just a moment, and I recognized the bald head that poked its way out of the window. Just for a second.

And then he zoomed off, leaving the bodies broken and bleeding in the street.

“Mr. Oscar Long was dead on arrival, but Miss Hannah Garcia? She took longer to die, and she suffered for every minute of it. Do I even need to ask for your last words?”

“It was just an accident!” Charles wailed.

I don’t need to describe what happened next. I’m sure you know by now. Another human being electrocuted to death, executed by the expressionless Judge.

Harley sighed shakily as The Judge looked at him. “And?” was all the Judge said.

“… I know what I did was wrong.” Harley admitted, his head bowed before he raised it and looked at The Judge. “So I will not be confessing today, Judge. I know what I deserve.”

The Judge paused and I caught a glimpse of something. Sympathy. “Being apart of the massacre of a village of innocent people and then covering it up. The act of a cowardly soldier. So, I believe this is the bravest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Just end it already,” Harley said, his eyes closing as he prepared for the shock.

“I won’t make you suffer.”

For a moment, I thought the Judge might have an inkling of mercy in him. Instead, he crossed the room of corpses and grabbed Harley’s head. It was so efficient, the twist of his head, the snap of his neck. Harley was dead in less time than it takes to finish a sentence. Perhaps it was mercy in the Judge’s mind. It was certainly quicker than what the others went through, that was for sure.

The only people left that were still alive in that room were me, Delilah, and The Judge. I was the only one left who had a final question. He went to his switches. I knew what he was going to ask.

“Why did you kill Jordan Mills, Edward?”

I took a deep breath.

“Because I was in love with his girlfriend. And she wouldn’t give me a second look as long as Jordan was alive.”

“And the girlfriend?”

“We’re now married. Have a daughter. We have another kid on the way.”

Delilah stared at me, probably shook that someone else confessed their most dirty secret, their most wicked of sins. The Judge nodded.

“And with that, court is adjourned.” The Judge left the room, coming back a moment later with two needles. He jabbed one into Delilah’s neck, the woman’s eyes flickering as she fell unconscious.

“Why did you do this?” I asked as the Judge walked up to me, tilting my head to the side with the hands he’d just used to murder six people.

“So you never do it again,” The Judge hissed before the needle entered my neck.

The next thing I know I’m lying on the street, cops are all around me, asking if I was okay and what happened. I was back in the clothes I’d fallen asleep with, the only sign that anything that had happened was the bruises on my wrists and the memories.

Oh, I know, you never expected me to have taken a life too. I regret it. Jordan was… kind to me. It was a moment of rage, something not at all planned out. I was just lucky no one ever found the body until it was too decomposed to really tell anything. Everyone assumed he fell off the hiking trail and hit his head on the way down, causing his death.

I paid for it my own way, of course. Ever since that night in the Chair of Truth, I’ve practically been a saint. Paid my taxes, watched my words, donated time and money to help others, and even when your mother finally left me for good, I never held it against her.

Why? Well, it’s hard to do anything wrong when you know someone’s gone through your life with a fine tooth comb. The fact someone is still watching me, no matter what I do, and I feel if I ever slipped up again, I’d wake up in the Chair, and next time I’d not get away so easily.

And I hope, my son, that you learn from my mistakes… that no matter how well you hide your sins, you will be found out, whether in the afterlife or this one.

#my stories

[kny-agere]

Hey :3 I was wondering if you could do Cg Uzui and his wives with a Little Inosuke? Something like inosuke wakes up in an smaller age than normal and they try to get used to the new behavior :)

I love little Inosuke 😭

★彡☆彡★彡

“We have a guest,” Tengen announced unceremoniously. Inosuke clung to his shoulders until the hashira wrestled him off and planted the boy firmly on the ground. When Inosuke realized he had more people to annoy, or play with, he eagerly launched himself at the women.

Makio was quick to intercept his attack. She managed to carry him quite successfully despite his large size. Immediately the other two crowded around, happy to see the boy.

“I thought you were just seeing Shinobu for a checkup and some extra supplies.” Hinatsuru was the only one who paused to actually acknowledge the presence of her husband. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and then went back to doting on Inosuke. He was currently trying to bite Makio’s fingers, amazed by how she expertly evaded him.

Tengen scoffed at the mention of Kocho. “She practically threw him at me. I had no choice, something about too many patients and no time to take care of him. It’s not like I have time! I don’t sit around all day doing nothing.”

Instead of unwavering support the man instead received accusatory looks. Even Inosuke was staring, though his eyes were more blank than inflammatory.

“Right, you must’ve had more plans to go shopping then. Or perhaps you wanted to reorganize the closet again,” Makio intoned. Currently the boy in her arms was chewing on the ends of her hair. Suma tried to hide her laugh by pressing her lips against Inosuke’s cheeks. All that resulted was the vibrations inspiring more laughter from the child himself.

The three women ignore their husband’s sour expression. It’s much more fun to focus on the boy in Makio’s lap who giggles and claps with every movement. His hands were rough and Inosuke tended to leave a mess anywhere he went but the joy he brought was often worth it.

“Do you wanna play?” No matter how many times Suma would accidentally get hit or tripped (and burst into tears) she couldn’t stay away. “Are we gonna play together?” She repeats herself slower, grabbing one of Inosuke’s hands. He grabs at her fingers and claws at her face. Someone must’ve trimmed his fingernails lately because they’re not quite as sharp as usual.

After a quiet moment Suma was quick to complain, “How come he isn’t answering? Do you hate me?”

“He might.”

“Makio! I’m sure he doesn’t hate you,” Hinatsuru soothed, “Maybe he’s tired or maybe he’s littler than usual.”

Considering that Inosuke didn’t get tired that left the only other option. He had regressed to a younger state once or twice before, but it wasn’t something the Uzui family had seen personally.

Suma’s tears stopped abruptly at the explanation. “Oh maybe he is! Are you my little baby today?” She went back to smothering Inosuke with kisses and kind words. He quickly tried to push her away, whining loudly.

“You have to be careful,” Hinatsuru chided, “He might not like all the same things he usually does.”

“You should’ve seen him on the ride here. He was shaking in the carriage and kept trying to stick his head out the window.” As Tengen recalls the journey Inosuke perks up at the word carriage. He squirms around until he flips out of Makio’s hold. The boy tries to run back out the door but the hashira blocks the attempt. Even with one arm it’s an easy task. Inosuke lacks any of his usual strength and strategy, instead blindly scrambling. It takes a few minutes to hold him in place but eventually he calms down and goes back to curious poking and pulling. “Why don’t we go somewhere more comfortable now?”

Inosuke squeals as he’s lifted up. The entire family moves to the living room, Makio making a detour to collect a few toys. The young slayer never had much of an interest in the simple wooden figures or rubber balls but in his current state he might have a change of heart.

Suma spreads a spare futon onto the floor. As soon as Inosuke is placed down she’s eager to cuddle up beside him. Hinatsuru smiles as she watches from the couch, leaning into Tegen’s arms. Instead of pouncing on her like he normally would the boy just pokes her face and messes around with clumsy hands.

When Makio enters she drops the armful of toys right over Suma. The younger woman opens her mouth to complain but as Inosuke picks up a toy her attention is easily grabbed. He holds one of the balls in his hands before chucking it across the room. When it bounces back towards him the boy screams in delight.

While Suma tries to grab his attention Inosuke busies himself with chucking every single toy given to him. He doesn’t seem to understand the difference between what bounces back and what won’t. Luckily it doesn’t seem to bother him much as Inosuke’s focus switches often. When a wooden horse or fabric doll thumps against the wall the boy immediately picks up another object. He even rips a figure right out Suma’s hands just to throw it right past Hinatsuru’s head.

Eventually the toys are scattered around the entire room. It’s a miracle he didn’t break anything, only knocking down a few books. Tengen sits back and reads, unbothered. Hinatsuru and Makio cuddle on the couch while Suma cowers beside Inosuke. Though his tirade is over and (maybe surprisingly) he never got close to hitting her the loud noises were enough to scare her into hiding. She slowly peeks out from behind shaking hands and is caught completely off guard when Inosuke flops into her arms.

Usually the slayer couldn’t stand the smothering affection that the three women often gifted him with. He sometimes couldn’t even stand the feeling of skin against his own. This version of Inosuke however, even younger than the one they usually dealt with, welcomed the touch. Suma didn’t know much about the boy’s childhood other than the fact that he had grown up in the wilderness. Still the fact that he was so eager to be held warmed her heart.

After he remained there happily for a few minutes Suma took the chance to carry him the couch so she could enjoy even more bodies to cuddle with. Though toys were still scattered around the room the thought of cleaning entered nobodies mind.

#age regression #sfw agere #age regressor #fandom agere #demon slayer #kny #cglre #agere requests #inosuke #inosuke hashibira #little!inosuke #uzui tengen #hinatsuru #hinatsuru uzui #suma #suma uzui #makio #makio uzui #cg!tengen #cg!makio #cg!hinatsuru #cg!suma

[mackeydoodledoo]

You're Still You

Pairing: Jennifer Walters x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: Both working for the city and dating the City's best attorney has its perks; You're Captain at the LA FD, what more could life give you? Little did you know Jen's vacation with her cousin Bruce changed her... Literally. Resulting in Jen avoiding you; causing a riff in your relationship. When she was gone longer than you would have liked... You begin worrying; to the point where you almost die on a work call. 

Warnings: Swearing, Semi-NSFW, Near-Death, Laceration stitches/scar, Semi-Angst

Key: Italics = Thought, +*+ = Time Skip

Theme: Mary on a Cross - Ghost

A/n: I watched the first few episode of She-Hulk and I’m kinda hooked

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

You open the door to your shared place with LA's newest Attorney: Jennifer Walters.

"Hey babe," You sigh, walking into the kitchen

"Hey you, how was work?" She turns away from the dishes to hug you

The scent of her hair, the feeling of her delicate hands against the blades of your shoulders soothed out your stiff body.

"Mmm, you reek," Jen bluntly states as she pulls away from your embrace

"Come on, thought the scent of fire was your favorite," You joke, smiling

"Mmmmm, pretty sure I said that it was your regular, natural body scent that I liked," She says

"Hmmm you may be a lawyer but you're such a bad liar," You smirk, tilting your head down to begin closing the distance between your faces

"Shower first, kisses later," She playfully pushes you away

"Hey hey a strong fire fighter needs to eat," You say

"I'll reheat it while you clean up, now go," She orders you

"Better yet, come join me," You wink

You begin pulling her towards you again. However, she pulls herself away from you.

"Then you'd be eating cold food," Jen concludes, "Now go."

You strip off your days clothing and step into the hot running shower.

Jen's POV You pop the food into the microwave. You listen to the shower run and the microwave hum as you lean against the countertop, debating on actually joining her girlfriend. You nibble on your fingernail...

Y/n's POV You take a smaller towel and wrap it around your neck as you step out of the shower, walking back into the kitchen.

"You okay?" You call out to Jen

She jumps as she turns around: watching you as you walk over to her.

"What?" You ask, smiling

You place your hands on both sides between Jen, slowly closing the distance between your bodies. Even mere inches away, she could feel your body heat radiating toward her. You slowly snake your leg between her thighs as you lean closer, bodies pressed against one another, faces now being mere inches away.

"Me being shirtless around here shouldn't be anything new for you," You continue

A small whimper hits against Jen's closed mouth as she feels your sturdy thigh press against her. However, a gasp escape when she feels your arm bulge around her hipline and your palm firmly grasping at her ass as you lift her up onto the island countertop.

"Bitch," Jen growls as she looks down at you

"You like it when I do that," You smirk, looking up at her

"Be careful with your words..." Jen says, leaning close to your ear, "Captain..."

A shiver runs up your spine as she calls you by your title. Even though, your crew refers you as captain while on shift.... The way Jen refers it to you was... Something.... Essentially.

"You may end up in my courtroom one of these days..." She smirks

"In other words 'my office'," You say

Jen scoots to the edge of the countertop to close the distance again. But not only between your bodies, but faces as well. She wraps her legs around your midsection as you hold onto each other; lips locked in a deep, intimate makeout session.

"Okay," Jen makes herself pull away from your lips, "Now go eat."

+*+

“Don’t overdo your drinking now Jen,” You smile as you pack her suitcase into the trunk of her car

“Says who?” She jokes

“Says me you lightweight,” You say

“You’re no different,” Jen argues

You jokingly scoff at her comment. She wasn’t entirely wrong though. 

“Bruce, keep an eye on your cousin for me will you?” You smile

“You got it,” He smiles back 

“Be safe,” You stop her before she gets into the driver's seat

You sighs as she gives you a hug, gently gripping at parts of your shirt. You bury your face into the crook of her neck as one hand remains on the car doorframe and the other around her hipline.

“You know I will babe,” She replies 

She pulls out of your embrace but not before she gives you a kiss on the lips. You step back and close the door for her as she slowly begins driving away. You watch Jen’s car until you could no longer see it.

“Alright... Me time,” You tell yourself, turning back to your apartment

+*+

That was... a few months ago... Before your girlfriend went to spend some time with her cousin: Bruce Banner.

"I'm sure Jennifer is fine Y/n," Stacie; Your station's PICs [Paramedic in Charge] says

"She would've called to tell me that herself..." You sigh in frustration, leaning back into a chair

Bruce had called you to tell you that him and Jen got into an accident but tells you that they’re both fine. That was all he gave you. But, the last several... God knows how long... Nights in the apartment were lonely... Each night you came home... You were only greeted by silence.

"Captain..." A muffled voice calls out to you, "Captain!"

You snap out of deep thought and turn to see who it was: Nicole; your Truck's Lieutenant.

"Didn't you hear the alarm? We got a call," He says

You nod as you begrudgingly begin towards the other end of the garage for your turnout gear.

"Hey," She stops you, "I'm sure your girlfriend is fine with Bruce, that was what she told you last time right?"

You nod, "You're right, let's go."

Jenn's POV You unlock the door to your apartment... It was quiet.

Y/n must be at work then...

Not even making it to unpack your stuff, there was frantic knocking at your door.

"Jen?!" Nikki calls from the other side

"Nikki?!" You open the door

"Why haven't you answered my calls?!" She asks

Shit...

Your phone was broken after the car accident and you didn't have the chance to get yourself a new phone yet.

"I got into an accident with Bruce and it broke my phone," You say, beginning to panic, "Why?"

"My cloae firefighter friend called me, Y/n is in the ER," She tells you

Your heart and stomach dropped... At this rate, you didn't care for your things. You picked up your keys again and begin following Nikki.

"By the way, you and I are gonna talk," She says

+*+

You burst through the ER doors, out of the entire department, Nicole remained.

"How is she?!" You immediately ask, "What happened?!"

"We were on a call earlier and Y/n had got a laceration on her waist by flying shrapnel," She begins explaining, "Docs took her up for emergency surgery but... Now it's a waiting game. It's not like Y/n to get hurt this bad on a call... Something about you being gone too long really messed with her head..."

It didn't lighten the weight you began feeling after what Nicole ended with. You realized that Y/n was so worried about you, she forgot her own safety at her job.

"Are you Jennifer Walters?" The Doctor comes up to you three

"That's right," You answer

"Y/n's surgery went well," He says, "But she'll need time off work to heal and needs someone at home."

"I can make the arrangements with our stations Battalion Chief," Nicole adds

"I can make Jen's arrangements at the office," Nikki adds

"Perfect," He says, "Would you like to come back and see her?"

You immediately nod as he takes you into the back.

"We gave her morphine so she won't be responsive," He adds

He draws the curtain for you to step through. But he doesn't follow.

"You must be the 'Jen' Y/n must've been mumbling about throughout the entire surgery," The nurse greets herself

"You... didn't give her morphine before?" You ask

"She was numb already, due to the amount of blood she lost on the way here," She explains, "Like the doctor said, the surgery was successful. Just a waiting game on when it'll be when she wakes up. I'll give you two a moment..."

You watch the nurse leave the hospital room as the ambient hospital takes over, as well as the hum of the IV beeping. 

“Oh... Y/n...” You sit down into a chair, scooting it closer to the hospital bed, “I’m so sorry...”

You take her hand into yours as you gently brush the back of her hand with your thumb.

“If only- if only I could explain what happened to me, could you really understand what I’m going through...” You sigh, “But... I don’t know where to start...”

“Don’t... Keep me out of it,” Her muffled voice calls out

You look up and see Y/n’s head tilted to your direction.

“Y/n,” You gasp in relief

“Hey Jen...” She sighs, “Wh-where the hell have you been?...”

You chuckle as you continue holding Y/n’s hand.

“I finally get the chance to come back and I come home to know that my girlfriend had almost died on a call, is laying here in a hospital bed and that’s the first thing she asks me?” You reiterate everything

“What can I say? I was worried,” She chuckles

She soon winces in pain. 

“Hey I’ll go get the nurse,” You say

Before you could get up, you felt her hand gently squeezing yours.

“They can come check on me...” She says, “Right now... Just stay here... I’ve missed you... So much...”

You sigh as you sit back down, deciding to grant your girlfriend’s wish. You reach over and begin rearranging her hair; seeing all of the soot on her face. 

“You reek,” You bluntly state

“Not my fault,” She chuckles again

+*+

Your girlfriend became mobile enough to walk after spending a couple extra days in the hospital. 

“God what would I give for a shower right now...” She groans 

“You gotta keep those stitches dry for the first 48 hours at most,” You state

“Doesn’t mean the rest of my body has to stink,” She groans, fumbling her way to the shower, “I’ll holler if I need something...”

Y/n’s POV You adjust the shower head so that it won't run onto your stitches. You begin stripping off the sweats that Jen had Brough over when you were getting discharged. However, when you got to the sweatpants, you couldn't even do so much as bend a single inch without pain shooting throughout your body, 

“Here... Let me,” Jen offers

You watch as her hands carefully wrap around your waistline as they undo the drawstring bow, curling around the elastic waistband as she lifts the sweats over your hipline, making sure not to touch your stitches as she pulls the sweatpants down to your ankles. Your breath hitches as you step out of them, feeling naked in front of your girlfriend.

“You’re stiff,” Jen’s breath dances along your shoulder, “Me seeing you in underwear let alone being butt naked isn’t anything new to me right?”

“Not when I’m injured where I need stitches,” You say, trying to hide your flushed cheeks

Jenn’s POV You noticed Y/n’s flushed cheeks, easy. Your eyes dart down to her glutes and you note how toned she was. 

Nothing less expected of my captain firefighter girlfriend...

“Care to join me this time?” She asks

“Y-yeah,” You snap out of your daze

Y/n’s POV You turn your head back forward as you hear Jen stripping her clothing away.

“You were staring at my ass weren't you?” You conclude

“Pfft! No I wasn’t,” Jen clearly lies

Awkward silence hits you both.

“Yes I was...” Jen finally confesses 

“It is a great ass,” You feed your ego, fully stripping off your underwear and step into the shower, “You should know...”

You hold your hand out to Jen as she takes it, carefully stepping into the shower with you.

“Shut up Y/n,” She chuckles, sliding the shower curtain closed

+*+

It took awhile for your scar to heal. However, even after getting your stitches off, you and Jen getting back into work, one last thing remained: you getting a better understanding of what happened to Jen and Bruce on their roadtrip. However, each time you try to bring it up, she would always change the subject,  give some lousy excuse or indulge herself with paperwork and ignore you entirely.

“Jen,” You say, sitting next to her, “You do know that you can share whatever is bothering you to me right? I don't wan you to bottle up anything you’re feeling.”

“I know it’s just- I have this really important court case and I got handpicked to take it and I’m just trying to-”

“Have to create a real persuading closing statement,” You finish her sentence, “You’ve told me that... every time I asked whatever happened after the accident you got into with Bruce...”

“Not now Y/n,” She sighs, trying to ‘focus’ on her statement, “Maybe when I’m done I can seat you down and we can talk.”

You get up and begin walking out the door, “That’s what you said every time...”

Jen’s POV You look up after Y/n’s final sentence before she heads out the door. You throw yourself back into the chair and sigh in frustration; but enough to keep yourself composed so that you wouldn’t accidentally hulk out. 

“If only it could be that easy to say that I am a hulk,” You tell yourself, “Especially to my own girlfriend...”

You had the heart to tell your family, your best friend Nikki Ramos... Yet, you don’t have the heart to tell your own girlfriend. But, you had a sole reason to: You were scared that she'd be scared and run away from you, now that you’re a hulking green “monster”...

Y/n’s POV “I just... I’ve been so calm trying to bring up the whole car accident and been trying to reassure her that she can be open with me about everything. And yet...” You explain to Nicole, downing a drink, “She brushes me off... Like she refuses to tell me...”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little too demanding about it?” She asks, “She may have a reason to not talk about it with you...”

“I just... Don't want her bottling it up until she can’t hold it in any longer and it just...” You say, then imitating an explosion

“I get that but, let her tell you when she's ready Y/n,” She says, “I know patience isn’t one of your strong suits, but trust me, you’ll thank me for it when it comes.”

You finish the last sips of your drink. You were about to pull out your wallet to pay your tab however, Nicole puts her hand over yours.

“I got your tab,” She says, “Go home, be with Jennifer. She has a big day tomorrow.”

“Thanks Nic,” You smile

+*+

You quietly open the door to your apartment; darkness and silence fell through the apartment, with the exception of you attempting to walk to the bedroom. Opening the creaky door, You see Jen asleep. You sigh in relief as you strip off your day’s clothing and put on a pair of shorts. You slither under the covers as you try to scoot yourself closer to the sleeping woman. 

Wait... What if she’s still mad at me?... 

No she isn’t, just cuddle the fuck out of her until you have to be at work in less than 6 hours.

It took a whole minute’s worth of your internal conversation to end with; cuddle the fuck out of Jen as your arms find openings and you wrap Jen in a warm embrace. She lets out a groan as she turns over and pushes herself into your chest, attempting to absorb all of your body heat the best she could. A smile protrudes on your face as you let out a huff, finally resting your body against the bed.

Jen’s POV You groan at your alarm going off as your eyes struggle to open. But, the alarm was persistent; forcing you to sit up in order for you to physically turn it off. After rubbing your eyes, you look over to your side to see your girlfriend long gone to work; nothing out of the ordinary for you however, she saw an outfit lying in the place where she would be. You pick ups a sticky note left on top of it.

Kick some ass today babe. I love you - Y/n

You smile and hug the small piece of paper; your girlfriend waking up extra early just to nicely lay out an outfit for her for work, write a note before getting ready for work.

+*+

You walk into the law firm as you were en route to your office, Nikki and Dennis follow behind as they follow you into your office.

“You and Y/n good?” Nikki asks, “Nicole texted me last night.”

“I think?” You ask both her and yourself

“Ladies can we save the personal affairs for after this case?” Dennis sighs in frustration, “Let’s go over your closing statement Jennifer.”

“Right right...” You compose yourself

Y/n’s POV You had returned to the station after dealing with a traffic accident call, you were in the lounge, having fixed yourself yet another cup of coffee when you see Nicole walking in.

“You and Jen talk things out?” She asks, sitting in the seat next to you

“She was asleep by the time I came home,” You say, “Hopefully when I get home tonight I can talk to her then...”

Before Nicole could converse further, the alarm goes off yet again.

Truck 13 Ambulance 63 Battalion 89 Several Injured at Los Angeles Metropolitan Courthouse

Your heart drops. You look at Nicole; the same reaction written on her face. The both of you spring out of your chairs and rush out to the garage, get the bottom half of your turnout gear on and onto your rig.

+*+

When you exit your rig at the front of the courthouse, you weren’t surprised at the amount who had injuries, nor were you surprised at other firehouses showing up. 

“Captain I can take over for you until you find and confirm your girlfriend is safe,” Nicole whispers

“I can do that at my discretion, I can’t let my personal affairs get in the way of my job,” You remind her

“She’s literally here and she could be injured,” Nicole argues, “Go find her and I can cover for you dummy.”

It wasn’t normal for Nicole to be your acting Captain on calls, but she also wasn’t wrong when your girlfriend could possibly be injured. You rush into the courthouse, screaming Jen’s name...

Jen’s POV “Jen!” A voice calls to you

You look away towards the voice and see Y/n frantically moving through the sea of people.

“Jen!” She spots you

Without knocking anyone over, she weaves her way through the bodies as you begin doing the same.

“Jen!” She calls out again

“Y/n!” You call back, continuing to weave through your coworkers 

She outstretches her arm as she gets even closer; you do the same. 

Y/n’s POV As soon as you felt Jen’s physical contact, you grab her by the wrist and pull her into your embrace. 

“Are you crying?” Jen asks as she grabs parts of your shirt to bundle into her fists

“Shut up,” You say, firmly, shoving your face into the crook of her neck

You were... As soon as the FD’s PA gave the location of the Courthouse, your heart sank. You knew Jen was doing an important court case.

“Oh Jesus what happened to you?!” You ask her, seeing the state of her outfit 

“She took down the person who interrupted our case,” Nikki comes up to the both of you

“You... What now?!” You ask

You again observe Jen’s face for any injuries or broken skin... Nothing... Yet her outfit that you personally laid out for her before you left for work was in shambles. 

Damn the one I hand pick for her to wear to this court case?... I really liked this one...

Your girlfriend being the one to apprehend criminals... Was news to you... Jen looks at Nikki; surprised.

“Y-You didn’t tell her?!” She looks at Jen

“Couldn’t find the best time to tell her,” She answers

“Well, you and I are going to talk when we get home,” You say, “You got her Nik?”

Nikki nods.

“I gotta check for more injured for ambo teams to take a look at them,” You say, “Then I have to help the chief when we get back to the station to file reports... Not sure how long that’ll take...”

“Go,” Jen tells you

“I’ll see you at home okay?”You tell her 

She nods. She begins turning her back to you however, you gently grab her by the shoulder and turn her to face you. Cupping her cheek you lean in to place a kiss on her forehead. PDA wasn’t very well looked upon when it comes to being a firefighter out on a call. But you didn’t care; your girlfriend was at the scene when you showed up; you could only think the worst case scenarios when you were en route to the location.

“I felt bad for how things were going between us lately Jen,” You confess, your forehead resting against hers, “Let’s actually talk tonight...”

You reluctantly let go of your girlfriend to tend to any other civilian in the courthouse... 

+*+

You open the door and see Jen sitting at the couch. 

“Hey you,” You greet her

You hang your jacket on the back of a chair and make your way to the couch. Not even situating yourself on the couch, she immediately takes your hand into hers.

“I’m sorry,”; She begins, nearly crying, “I haven’t been truthful with you about what happened when I went on that roadtrip with Bruce and-”

“Hey,” You calm her down, “It should really be me apologizing... All I did was give you a hard time after you came back rather than being patient with you... I'm sorry...”

“It’s just... So hard and... I don’t want to hurt anyone...” Jen continues

“You aren’t going to hurt me,” You reassure her, “Even if you do, I know it would be on accident and I have faced far worse...”

Jen laughs a bit, but her smile drops.

“Now... What was it that you were so afraid to tell me?” You ask

Jen stands up, and begins walking into the kitchen with you following behind.

“There’s no easy way for me to put it out in sentences...” She says 

“Babe,” You chuckle, “You know you can stumble over your words when you’re-”

She began turning green, her hair grew longer and her height finally surpassed yours. 

“So you’re like Bruce then?” You ask, casually

You knew Bruce was the original Hulk; you’ve gotten a couple run-ins with he Avengers and grew closer with Bruce when you began dating his cousin.

“Why do you sound so casual?” She asks, “Wouldn’t you be questioning your entire life existence now that your girlfriend is a hulk?!”

“You’re still Jen,” You conclude, hopping up to sit on top of the island countertop

“What?” She asks, facing you

“You’re still Jennifer Walters,” You elaborate

“Wouldn’t you not want to be seen with a hulking green girlfriend?!” She asks

[Your beauty never ever scared me]

“Jen, you can still be in your hulk form,” You say, gesturing to all of her, “And still be madly in love with you. I fell in love with Jennifer Walters, even before she got these superhuman powers.”

Jen comes over and closes the gap between your bodies. 

“Human or Hulk, I love my Jennifer Walters,” You smile

You lean in to kiss her. The initial shock sent chills up her spine as she almost pushes you away. However, it was you. Even revealing her other form to you for the first time ever, the fear of you leaving her went away; you weren’t scared and ran off. She slowly coils her arms around your hipline as you wrap your legs around her midsection.

“I’m starting to understand why you like being the short one in our relationship,” You chuckle

Jen giggles as she rests her head in your palm as you tuck hair behind her ear. 

“I love you too Y/n,” Jen finally says, “Whether you gain powers yourself or you’re fully human.”

“Watch me get fire based powers one of these days,” You joke

#jennifer walters x reader #female reader #jennifer walters #she hulk #she hulk attorney at law #marvel #marvel cinematic universe

[gumballavocadoharry]

Harry and River:

The babysitters club:

I set up blankets and River's old high chair and bassinet for our little guest that was staying here for the day. Gemma's friend, Carrie had a baby girl named Everleigh who was born only a few months ago. She was beautiful with big blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. She had this cute little smile and a little clef on her chin.

I was excited because I missed having a baby around the house. I mean, I loved River the age he is now and he will always be my forever baby, but it was still nice to go back in time for even a little while. "River," I knocked on his bedroom door. "Are you excited for our guest today? Carrie's coming over today with baby Everleigh, and she wants us to babysit her for today. So that means while Everleighs here, no loud music or voices like yelling or slamming your toys around."

River nodded and agreed to that. "Okay, now with that settled.....want to help take care of Everleigh?" "Sure." I thought that if I included River in the baby caring process, then he would be less likely to get jealous. But little did I know.......he would.

Ding! The doorbell rang and I rushed downstairs to answer it. "Hello Carrie," I said, giving her a side hug. "And how's this little cutie?"

"She's fine, thank you." Hey I appreciate you watching her, I needed this girl's day." I nodded. "I completely understand, I know how it was with River when he was that age." She handed me Everleigh and her baby bag. "She's already been fed, all she needs is probably her diaper changed later on and a nap. Thanks again."

"Of course, it's me and River's pleasure." Carrie kissed her baby goodbye before she left. "Okay Riv, it's you, me and Everleigh now." River smiled slightly, while examining Everleigh. "Isn't she pretty?" I sat down with the tiny baby in my arms and River followed. "You're the sweetest little baby, yes you are the cutest thing." I cooed, making kiss noises then eventually kissing her chubby cheeks.

River furrowed his eyebrows a little, before feeling Everleigh's cheeks with the back of his hand until one of his fingernails nicked her a little, which then made her give way to a soft whimper. "River, be careful! She's smaller than you." River jolted his little hand back abruptly, which made me feel a little guilty. "Oh, I'm sorry for yelling rivie, but she is just a baby."

River smiled and seemed satisfied with my apology and tagged along as I went upstairs to change Everleigh's diaper. "Okay sweetheart, we're getting rid of that yucky diapie." I cooed in my baby voice. I tickled her little cheeks and tummy before undoing her diaper and grabbing a couple wipes and diaper powder. River came in shortly and from the corner of my eye I could tell he had something in his hands.

"Daddy, when you're finished with Everleigh....can you help me color a picture?" I glanced back to River concisely before turning my attention back to the little baby girl. "Sorry babe, but daddy's gotta rock Everleigh to sleep afterwards." River gave a small pout and left. I was do busy on making sure I didn't mess up the diaper change, that I failed to see River's discard. "Okay sweet girl, let's get you to beddy by." I picked her up and started rocking her to sleep, lightly humming soft tunes.

CRASH!

River's loud car chase made Everleigh's whimpers turn into full on cries. Pique rippled through me, as I set Everleigh down and confronted River. "River! I just said I was rocking Everleigh to sleep! Can you please try to find something quiet to play." Exasperation escaped into my tone, more than I would've liked. River's face grew sullen. I left the room and went back to Everleigh to soothe her.

"There, there baby girl...it's okay." Her cries disintegrated enough to put her into her portable crib. I kissed my fingers and tapped it on Everleigh's rosy cheek. I quietly tiptoed out of my room and continued downstairs for a nap. I heard little footsteps, trace the wood against his socks until I felt his presence standing above me.

"Daddy! What about the picture?" My eyes shot open and I turned to River to shush him. "Be quiet, Everleigh's asleep," But I wasn't quick enough and heard her soft sobs coming from upstairs. I furrowed my eyebrows a little at River. "She's awake.....River why don't you go paint daddy another picture okay?" I didn't want to sound annoyed, but I think River sensed that.

He hung his down. "Sorry." I patted his head before jogging upstairs to Everleigh's bassinet. "There, there sweetie...it's alright. I'm here." I peppered her cheeks with kisses before tucking her back into bed. "There you go honey, back to dreamland." I swore, I had seen River standing behind me about to go into his bedroom but then walked away.

I quietly opened River's bedroom door, and found him quietly playing with his toys. I closed the door and went downstairs for a nap. In my spare time, a little before Carrie brought over Everleigh, I had knitted a little sweater for her.

A couple hours later, I was awoken by Everleigh's crying. A hungry cry. I was an expert at this by now from having River. "You hungry?" I asked in my baby voice. "I know you are, and I'm going to get some food in that tummy." I cooed.

I made Everleigh some mashed peaches and heated up her bottle. "I'm hungry too daddy." "Okay Rivie, just let daddy feed Everleigh and then I'll make your dinner okay?" River pouted, but I turned my attention back to Everleigh. "Who's a good girl? Eating her yummy peaches? And you're as sweet as one....yes you are, yes you are." I cooed, making the little blonde baby giggle mercilessly.

"I can feed myself like a big boy," I glanced over to River. "Yes, I know you can."

"Everleigh! You finished all your dinner! What a good girl!" I tickled her under her chin. "You're a special little baby, aren't you? Like a pretty princess!" I scooped her up and pressed a big kiss to her cheek. "Oh, who wants some ice cream?"

"But, my dinner?" "Oh, right. How about a nice turkey sandwich?" River nodded with a small dose of omit in him. I quickly made River's dinner before turning back to Everleigh. I gave her a few small spoonfuls of ice cream before taking her to the living room. "Daddy, pick me up too!"

"I can't River, I'm holding Everleigh....maybe later," River pouted again. "I'm sorry bud, but she needs me more right now. Besides, you have to finish your dinner." River went back to his sandwich, and I set Everleigh down on a blanket and let her play with some of River's big blocks.

"Hey those are my blocks!" River stomped over to Everleigh and snatched them, making her fall over and cry. "River!" My stern voice kicked in. "You give Everleigh back those blocks and go upstairs to you room right now!"

"But dad-" "Now!" River dropped the blocks and ran upstairs to his bedroom. I rubbed my temples and checked on Everleigh. "Are you okay honey?" I handed her a block and kissed her forehead. I looked up to the stairs, contemplating talking to River. But the sound of the doorbell interrupted that.

I opened the door, and saw Carrie standing there. "Hello Harry, how was Everleigh? Was she a good girl?" I smiled and nodded. "She was an absolute angel. A very good girl."

"Thank you so much for watching her! I hope it wasn't too much trouble." "None at all! And you're welcome...she's a real sweetheart."

Carrie looked so prideful once I handed her back her daughter. "Thanks for being such a good girl for Uncle Harry, say bye, bye." She made Everleigh wave her hand goodbye. "Goodbye sweetie. Oh, but before you go...." I grabbed the magenta colored sweater for Everleigh. "I made this for you."

"Awww, that is so sweet Harry. Wasn't that nice of him honey?" Carried cooed to Everleigh, her smiling baby.

Once they left, I immediately went upstairs to River's bedroom. I knocked on his door before letting myself once I heard no answer. "Riv?" His back was turned to his window, and his head was down sniffling. "River, what's wrong?" I stepped closer to him wanting to comfort him, but he turned away. He swallowed hard. I looked over his bedroom and noticed the picture he drew me was ripped in half. "River," I picked up the split piece of paper from the ground.

"Why did you do this?" Ny breath faded a little. He shrugged. "You didn't want it." I sat down next to River. I gently touched his face. "Sure you do that now since she's not here!" He sneered. "You love Everleigh better!" He jolted up from his bed and went over to his dresser in anger. I was shocked. The tone and words that were pouring out of my little boy's mouth were heartbreaking.

"River, I don't love anyone more than you....Everleigh's our friend just like Carrie her mother." He turned around, tears streaking down his rosy cheeks. "But you gave Everleigh my blocks, and you made her a special dinner and knitted her a sweater...but you didn't have any time for me. And you kissed her bunches, but not me." He cried.

My head pinged. For that moment, I had forgotten River was only a toddler. He didn't understand that much about babies and how much attention they need. "I'm so sorry River.....I never meant to not give you any attention. And I am especially sorry for making you feel left out." River wiped his face. "Me and rexie played all by ourselves." He arrogantly boasted.

But there was still sadness in his eyes. I walked over to him with my arms stretched out. I picked him up and set him on my lap. "River, I love you." I pressed my head against his. "I love you, and nothing or no one in this world could change that, okay?" River shrugged.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Ya know?" A single tear dripped onto my jeans. I wiped River's face and kissed his cheek. I squeezed him harder. "It's true....don't be sad...." I didn't really know what to do to make River feel better. "Rexie's going to eat me, if you're mad still baby...you know how much rexie is protective of you."

A small smile escaped from River, followed by one of my own. I hugged River tightly and kissed him all over his face. "How about some ice cream?" River nodded with a more widened smile.

I scooped him up in my arms and trollied downstairs to a delicious ice cream treat.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #dadrry #single dad harry #harry styles son #singledad harry and river #harry styles and river #daddy's boy #daddy's baby #babysitters club #babysitters #harry styles fanfiction #harry and river #harry styles fanfictions