#air trecks

[dragondrop-art]

I've been watching Air Gear again... <3

#メスケモ #female furry #furry #furry dragon #furry oc #kemono #furry art #air trecks #rollerblades

[mamangasick]

Air Gear

Oh! Great

#air gear #oh great #oogure ito #manga #mangacap #shounen #shonen #action #comedy #drama #romance #sci-fi #science fiction #sports #air treck #monochrome

[endlessthxxghts]

Need You

Husband!Frankie Morales x wife!afab!reader || W/C: ≈5k

Summary: Tío Santi comes to the rescue when Frankie confides in him about how the two of you have been way too busy for one another.

Warnings: Crazy events of Triple Frontier don't happen; let's just give these guys some happiness. Instead of coke, Frankie’s drug is you (LMAOOO). No “y/n.” No physical descriptions of reader (besides clothing choices), she looks like you😏 and big strong man Frankie can carry you <333. Reader knows a bit of Spanish. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Oral sex (f receiving). Unprotected P in V sex. Slow and sloppy😵‍💫. Breeding kink. Domestic kink (they get really spurred on calling each other husband and wife/esposo y esposa). Possessive kink. Daddy kink (but in the sense that reader just loves seeing Frankie as a Dad and wants to give more babies to parent!!!). Pussy slapping... Cum play/eating. Vaginal fingering/fucking. Squirting. Slight Dom!Frankie (he just really wants to hear his wife beg for his cum!!). Mentions of shower ✨activities✨. A lot of love basically — physically and emotionally. Extra warning for the parents who can’t leave their child with other people — Tío Santi takes their baby out to eat and get treats; she’s in good hands, I promise!!!

A/N: Husband Frankie is rotting my brain bad. Especially girl dad!Frankie. My ovaries are screaming. So here's this little 5k bad boy I whipped up. This is very much a porn with a bit of (yummy domestic) plot. Hope y’all enjoy. Thank you to my sweet sweet bae @javierpena-inatacvest for proof-reading this and hyping me up since it’s my first Frankie story to be posted! I love you so much 🥹🥹💚 (edit: someone had a comment about why Isa is amorcito instead of amorcita, so in case you had that question as well, read my explanation here!)

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Querida, I’m home!” Frankie called out. 

“In Isa’s room, baby!” you responded. 

Santi tagged along on his treck home today, offering to take Isa out for lunch and sweets after Frankie told him how both of you have been crazy busy lately. He helps himself to the kitchen while Frankie makes his way to you.

Frankie lightly knocks on the door before entering, gasping out in delight to earn a bubbly reaction from his three year old daughter. “Ay, mi esposa (my wife),” he exclaims, giving you a soft kiss to your lips. He looks to his daughter and grabs her from you, “y mi amorcito (and my little love),” he says, throwing her up in the air, coaxing a few more giggles out of her. 

He sets her back down to play with her toys, and Frankie turns to you, pulling you in for a proper hello. Your lips slot against each other in a needy embrace, still as reserved as you two can be with your child in the room. He pulls away first, arms not leaving your waist. “Hi, mama,” he says with an adoring smile. “Hi, honey,” you respond, heart still skipping a few beats as if it’s your first time meeting him. He guides you to outside the doorway, closing Isa’s room ajar, so you both are out of her view.

“Santi’s here,” he tells you. “He offered to, uh, take Isa out to get food and some dessert,” he adds nonchalantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It’s been three years since your baby was born, and still you’re always reluctant to leave her with others. It’s not that you don’t trust the people you leave her with, it’s the fact that if anything were to happen — Gods forbid — you wouldn’t be able to be there, to comfort and protect her. 

Your eyebrow raises in response. He squeezes you tighter into him, ducking closer to your ear. “And I was thinking,” he kisses the sweet spot near your pulse point, “we could take some time for ourselves?” He continues kissing and nipping at your neck, uttering a small please baby as he makes his way back to your lips. 

Little did Frankie know, you didn’t need any convincing at all. You were just about ready to drop her off at your parents as soon as he got home from work today. You don’t tell him though. You like hearing him be a little desperate for you. 

His hand skates lower to your ass, the other hand making its way to cup your front. “It’s been weeks, baby, I need to taste her,” he says, damn near a whine. 

You grab both sides of his face and pull him into a searing kiss. “Go pack her bag,” you whisper as you pull away from his grasp, making your way to Santi to give him the rundown. 

In record time, Frankie packs Isa’s go bag in under five minutes: diapers, extra change of clothes, baby wipes, baby Benadryl, and some of her comfort snacks just in case she’s extra picky today. He picks up his baby, assessing if she needs a diaper change — she’s dry — and heads to the kitchen. “Wanna hang with Tío Santi today, mi amor?”

Her face lights up, and she squeals, “yes, daddy, pleeeeaaase!” 

He chuckles, his heart warming at how much she loves his best friend, his brother. 

He and Isa enter the kitchen to you giving Santi the rundown on her allergies. 

“We exposed her to all the major allergens already and no reactions, except for peanuts — she gets a little red, so just watch out for that. There’ll be Benadryl in her pack just in case.”

Santi gives you a salute, “Sir, yes, sir.” 

You playfully roll your eyes at his antics. “One more thing,” you say as you go to kiss your baby goodbye. “Usually I’d ask if you could send pictures throughout the time you’re gone…” you look at Frankie. 

Santi smirks, knowing where this is headed. 

“But you don’t have to. At least for today,” your face remains composed, but the heat spreading across your cheeks exposes you. 

“Got it. No peanuts,” Santi says, reaching for the bag off Frankie’s shoulder and the keys from his pocket, “and no interruptions,” he winks at you both. “Let me know when you guys are ready for us to come back,” he looks to his beautiful niece in her mother’s arms, peppering her with goodbye kisses. 

“Vamanos (let’s go), mija!” Santi says, prying her out of your arms. Frankie reaches to give her one last kiss on her forehead, and they’re out the door. 

As soon as the front door clicks shut, Frankie is on you in an instant, too riled up to wait until you’re in the bedroom. He needs you badly, and he needs you now. He’s caging you in between his body and the kitchen counter, lips on you like he’ll die tonight if he doesn’t touch you. Your lungs are burning for air, yet you don’t pull away. You can’t. He’s too addicting. Too much time has passed without the pleasure you two bring one another, so you’ll sacrifice one survival need for another. 

Before you know it, his hands are at the base of your ass, lifting you to the kitchen counter, and his lips are dragging down your jaw, your neck, and into your cleavage, nipping every little exposed place your cropped tank allows him. His hands are at the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down as he brings himself to his knees. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he takes a deep breath in. His eyes are impossibly darker, demeanor turning animalistic as he feels just your sweats alone and no underwear. He gets a view of your already glistening pussy, and he can’t help the growl that leaves his throat. 

He settles his hands under the globe of your ass and scoots you to the edge, your thighs finding solace on his shoulders. You immediately lean back on your elbows, knowing the moment his mouth is on you, your body will go weak at his touch. 

Without any warning, his tongue licks the entirety of your leaking seam, hands automatically gripping you tighter as the taste of you hits his tongue. The sound that leaves you sends shivers down his spine, his cock painfully hard and leaking in his jeans. He licks you a few more times, letting his drool drip down his tongue and spread all over you, making you a soaking mess of your arousal and his spit. 

Once you’re drenched to his liking, he dives right in, face completely flushed against your sex, sloppily sucking and licking into you, hitting all the right buttons to make you see fucking stars. By his hands or his tongue, he still knows how to steer you in the direction of the most beautiful constellations, even if they are behind your eyelids. 

“Frankie, fuck-!” you yell out, your inhibitions automatically down with the fact that the house is left to the two of you. Frankie’s hips involuntarily buck into nothing at your moans, missing the sounds you always made for him. Ever since Isa was born, both of you made a conscious effort to work on your noise levels — especially you. You were the most vocal he’s ever been with, and fuck if it didn’t make him all the more whipped. He almost forgot what your sounds do to him. Almost. But now that you’ve given him a taste again after so long, he needs more. 

He circles your clit a few times and sucks it, hard. He pulls off with a lewd pop, his dominant hand leaving your ass and making its way to your entrance. You’re such a fucking mess that his two fingers slide right in, giving you the extra push Frankie needed to pull more heavenly moans and whimpers out of you. “Let me hear you, mama,” he says, tongue circling your clit as his fingers work you to the edge. “Sing for me, baby,” and with what little strength you have, you force your head forward to watch his ministrations, and the sight is what sends you falling first. Frankie’s mouth is wrapped around the entirety of you, eyes dark and on yours, his hooked nose rubbing against all the right places while his arm muscles ripple as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. 

“Shit- oh, fuck-” you whine out, your head like a bobble head, too heavy to maintain upright. Frankie curls his fingers just right, and-

 “Oh my God, Francisco, oh my God!” Your hips are bucking into his face, his own strength unable to keep your hips down with how hard your orgasm is hitting you. He lets you ride out your wave on his face, drinking every last drop coming out of you. 

His fingers are out of you now, Frankie immediately cleaning them in his mouth, not wanting to Iet any of your sweet syrup go to waste. Your chest is heaving, eyes clamped shut, and your body is entirely limp. Frankie stands to his full height, and he’s pulling you up to sit up straight, his hands guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. He chuckles a little. “Still with me?” 

Your torso loses its strength momentarily, and you almost fall back. His arms immediately wrap around you, supporting you to maintain your upright position. You laugh at yourself, a blissed out smile gracing your face. He feels his heart flutter, just as strong as when he first met you. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here, you monster,” you lightly laugh, resting your head on him. “God, I love you,” your voice slightly muffled from burrowing yourself into his chest. 

His one hand leaves your back and wraps itself around your jaw, bringing your lips up to his. You can taste yourself on him, and you can already feel another fire being lit deep in your core, your arousal dripping onto the kitchen counter as your lips continue with his. 

You pull away, breathless, ready for more. “Take me to bed, baby.” 

“You sure you’re ready now?” He smirks. 

“Keep teasing, and I won’t let you cum inside of me, big boy.” 

His lips find yours again in a bruising manner, a growl leaves him as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. “Last I checked, you were the one begging for me to fuck my cum so deep inside you that it had no other option but to latch on. If that’s what you want again, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” 

You whimper in response, your spurt of dominance dissipating immediately. 

“That what you want, baby? Come on, tell me. I wanna hear it.” 

Your eyes are glossing over, too pent up with a fertile need to get your brain to come up with any kind of response. His grasp on your jaw tightens, his lips ghosting yours as he talks. “Tell me you want my cum, baby. Tell me you want me to fill you up so fucking full of me.” 

“Yes, baby, fuck, I need you. I need you inside of me, I need you to fill me. Please, you’re such a good daddy, I wanna give you more, please,” you ramble on. His mouth is on you again in a sloppy embrace as he picks you up and guides you two to your bedroom. 

He sets you down at the edge of the bed. He guides your shirt off, then his. He pulls back for a second and shucks his bottoms off, giving you a complete view of his tanned and toned naked body, his little tummy a little soft around the edges. Your pussy is crying at the sight. 

You don’t waste anymore time as you settle yourself to the center of your bed, your legs already falling open with muscle memory. Frankie licks his lips at the sight. Part of him just wants to go down on you again, but the way his cock is screaming at him for release and your pussy is clenching on nothing—yeah, his oral fixation can wait. 

He settles himself in between your legs. His hands are grounded into the pillow beside your head as your legs automatically hook around his waist. He rubs his length across your wetness, you mewl for him as he lets his tip drag across your clit. 

“Baby, please,” you whine. 

“I’ve got you, baby.” 

His tip breaches your entrance. God, you’ve missed him so much, and you tell him exactly that. 

His lips are on yours, never really satiated with the amount of kisses he takes from you, “I fuckin’ missed you so much.” He pushes deeper in. “God, my beautiful wife, I love you so much,” he breathes out as his lips graze your temple. 

His hips are flushed with yours, your hands secure themselves around his neck. “Please, baby, let’s never go this long again, I need you so bad,” he rasps. He’s pulling out again, his head kissing your core. “Need you always,” he says as he pushes back in, maintaining a slow but hard rhythm.

You pull him impossibly closer into you, your hands grasping and feeling him anywhere you can reach. You rock your hips to meet every push and pull of his own, lips ghosting each other with each movement, your eyes threatening to roll back at how entirely full you feel. 

He’s taking his fucking time with you tonight, fucking you slowly into the mattress, harder with each thrust, reveling in sound of your pussy each time he pushes in, and he can’t help the way he smiles into the sloppy kisses and shared breaths. 

You’re a complete mess, tears falling from your eyes at how addicting he feels mixed with the pure love you have for this man. You really don’t even register what you’re babbling about, but that doesn’t matter. Frankie’s in heaven listening to a mixture of your drawn out moans, the occasional Lord’s name in vain, and the repeated I love you, baby, I love you so much.

One of his hands drag down to your clit, rubbing clumsy yet perfect circles, forcing your dam to finally break. He’s completely soaked in you and so are your thighs and the bedsheets. Your fall is slow but all-consuming. Your back arches into him, your nipples rubbing deliciously against his chest, and the feeling is the final push that sends him painting your walls white. 

His hand leaves your swollen clit and wraps itself around your lower back, helping you maintain your arch form as he continues rocking himself into you well into his softened state. He can feel your body start to tense out of overstimulation, so he finally pulls out of you, leaving you a leaking mess of both your and his cum. He sits back on his hunches, his fingers drawing circles on your inner thighs, just admiring the sight until his cock begins to stir again. 

“Jesus, Morales,” you giggle breathily as you clocked the jump of his length.

He leans over you again, giving you a sweet, lengthy kiss as he begins to slide himself off the bed. “What can I say, baby? I’m insatiable with you,” he gives you a mischievous smirk. 

He heads to the kitchen, returning to the bedroom with a chilled glass of water for you. “Drink up,” he says.

Before he makes it to the en suite bathroom, he adds, “I’m not done with you yet, mama.”

Despite the sensitivity down there, your pussy flutters at his words, craving him down there in any way shape or form.

He returns with a warm cloth, cleaning you up as best as he can with your second round of slick and his endless load of cum pouring from you. He sets the cloth down somewhere on the floor and situates himself up against the headboard. He wordlessly guides you to lay between his legs, your chest resting against his. 

“Wanna check on Isa?” Frankie asks, albeit a little shy. You smirk a little, knowing you’re usually the one to cave first. You make grabby hands at your phone on the nightstand, nudging Frankie to grab it since his wingspan is much larger than yours. He hands it to you, and you immediately dial Santi, hitting the speaker button as it rings.

“Hey, Santi.” 

“Hey, Mrs. Fish,” you can hear him laugh at his name for you. Frankie also gives a little laugh. He thought it was the funniest thing he’s ever said during your guys’ wedding reception. He calls you that more than your own name now. 

“How’s it going?” you try to ask in an unconcerned fashion. Santi knows you both all too well to know that isn’t the case. 

“You know you two didn’t have to quit just to check on her, right? Tío Santi knows how to distract! Also, tío Santi knows how to put her down for a nap!” He says proudly.

“I believe you, Santi, don’t worry. Just checking. Frankie just kept bugging-” 

Before you could continue your sentence, Frankie’s hands immediately go to your sides, hitting all your ticklish spots. You scream out, a loud stream of giggles leaving you. 

“Coño, por favor, not while I’m on the phone!” You hear Santi say. “Sorry, Sorry,” you say, still out of breath from Frankie’s merciless attack. 

“Actually, Santi, can I ask another favor?” 

Frankie looks at you confused. You smirk at him. “Is tío Santi prepared for his first sleepover?” His confusion fades and immediately his eyes are consumed with pure lust, his soft brown eyes turning black. 

Santi is silent for a moment. “You two are downright feral, you know that, right?”

You stifle a laugh. “Ay Dios mío (oh my God),” Frankie mutters. 

“As long as I get another niece — or nephew, I really have no preference — in nine months time…” Santi trails off in thought. “Then I’d dedicate every damn weekend to her,” he says. 

You turn your head around and up to meet Frankie’s eyes, both of you in shock at Santi’s silent invitation, silence fills the air for a moment before you finally bring yourself to speak. 

“Oh? Alright, then,” you softly say. “Thank you, Santi, you’re the best. We’ll text you, okay? Bye,” you hang up, not giving Santi any chances to return the call-ending formalities. You and Frankie are still looking at each other, eyes wild at the proposition before you. 

“Every weekend, huh?” Frankie says, breaking the tension first. His head dips down to place a kiss where your neck and shoulder meet. 

You suck in a breath, arousal forming faster than a strike of lightning. “Mhm,” you barely get out. His hands are roaming your body now, your phone thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room, long forgotten. He places his hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading you open and keeping them atop his own legs, so he can hold you open. His one hand is spread largely over your lower belly while his other hand is already teasing your core. 

His finger circles directly on your clit, you yelp in response, your body twitching. “Every weekend, I’m gonna get to fuck my wife, huh?” Frankie says into your ear. “Gonna fill her full of me?” Your hips buck at the huskiness of his voice, of his possessiveness over you. Your response is incoherent, more of a moan than anything. Next thing you know, your room reverberates with the noise of a wet slap. 

He spanked your pussy. The sound that escapes your throat is beyond arousing, Frankie’s cock back to life, dripping on your lower back. “Answer me properly, baby,” he says again, softly. His fingers are circling your clit again, forcing more of your wetness out of you, his cum from earlier still seeking its place on your bedsheets.

“Mmm, fuck-” you breathe, “Yes, yes, every weekend, baby,” you’re nodding your head frantically as you try to keep your eyes trained on his actions down below. “Every weekend you’re gonna make me so full,” you whimper, “Gonna fuck a baby into me, daddy, I need you so bad.”

He slides two of his fingers into you at your words, his hips grind into your back at the feel of your warmth, of his spend keeping you nice and wet. His fingers pump in and out of you at a languid pace, his fingers arching in a come-here motion to beckon more of his cum onto his fingers. He pulls out of you momentarily, analyzing the mess he’s made. “Open, querida,” he whispers, likely in a trance at the sight. 

You open your mouth, tongue out and ready. He sticks his fingers into your mouth, and you lap up his salty spend greedily, as if it were the sweetest of syrups. You taste a distinct tanginess on his fingers, most likely the product of your own arousal. Your eyes fall shut at your taste, eyes feeling heavy and too blissed out to stay open. He pulls out of your mouth with a pop and grabs your chin, turning your face to his. He pulls you in for an open-mouthed kiss, wet and hot. His hand leaves your face and returns to your core. His fingers are back inside you, pushing in and out as his palm grinds perfectly into your clit. Your hips are moving in tandem, providing you with the perfect rhythm to soak him all over again. His lips never break from your own, tongues dancing in a way only you two get to know. 

Your hand seeks purchase at the back of his neck, tugging at the base of his curls, taking away his opportunity to break away from you. He moans into your mouth at the sharp sensation, your lower back a sticky mess from how much he’s leaking onto you. 

Finally, you break away, lips still connected by the thinnest of spit lines. “Baby, I- I’m gonna cum, shit-”

Frankie lets out a growl, desperate to have you fall apart on him. He maintains his same pace, adding a bit more pressure of his palm to your clit, his other hand pushing harder down into your belly, knowing how crazy the stimulation drives you. “Give it to me,” he mumbles in your ear, his heavy breathing fanning across your cheek. “Need it, baby. Need you,” he whines. 

“Fuck-!” you yell out, head pushing harder into his shoulder, eyes clamping shut and forming white, blinding fireworks beneath your eyelids. He fucks his fingers in you as you ride out your high, tears letting loose as your pussy squirts into his hand and all over both your bottom halves. 

The sight transforms him into a cumming mess, the only stimulation being the friction from your backside as he rutted into you. You don’t notice the warm wetness between your bodies until your body falls completely limp against him, breathing still heavy but slowly returning to normal. Frankie bejewels your face with sweet kisses — from your temples to the edge of your shoulder that he can reach — as you slowly come back to Earth. 

You look up at him now, a soft smile spread across your face. His heart stutters at the sight. You shift your back a little. “Did you…?”

“Yes, I did,” Frankie admits way too quickly, embarrassment flooding his face. 

You pull him into one more kiss before you start to get up. “Come on. Shower and then we eat,” you tell him. “You didn’t get to settle yourself down after work,” you add, slightly scolding him for his impatience yet also silently thanking him. 

“I can always eat in the shower,” Frankie adds suggestively, his eyes giving your body a once over as you stand beside the bed, waiting for him to get a move on. 

“Morales!” you gasp out. “Bad,” you say, shaking your head from side to side. 

“You know it’s gonna happen, mi amor (my love),” he says as he stands, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him, seeking your warmth. 

And it does happen. He makes you fall apart on his tongue twice, and you pay him back by reducing him down to jelly legs as you fuck his cum down your throat. By the time you two actually start your shower, the water is completely cold, not one drop of hot water available. 

Post-shower, you two cook a fast, simple meal, too eager to be on each other again, but too aware of how important it is to give your body sustenance in order to continue with your feral behavior. You only get a few hours of sleep that night. Falling asleep after each round only to wake back up a horny, dripping mess just to fuck again. You don’t remember the last time you two did something like this, but damn were you two needing it. You made a mental note to thank Santi for his much needed offer.

The next morning you wake up at seven, the first sensation you feel for the day is your sore pussy, red and puffy as she begs you to give her a break. You look at the knocked out man beside you, give him a kiss on the forehead and break away from his hold, bringing yourself to the bathroom. You take your phone with you. 

[07:13] Just woke up. Drop Isabela off whenever you’re ready. 

[07:15] God, no wonder she’s up already. She’s got your early ass schedule. 

You laugh to yourself, picturing Santi a half asleep man child as your daughter crawls all over him, forcing him to get up, too. What Santi didn’t know was that it was actually Isa’s schedule that you were on. 

[07:16] Pobrecito (poor thing). :( 

[07:16] She’ll probably be asking for Frankie soon. She always cuddles him in the morning. 

[07:17] Yep, she just did. I’ll feed her some breakfast now, then we’ll be on our way. That good, Mrs. Fish?

[07:18] If it’s good with little Fish, then it’s good with me. 

He sends you a thumbs up, and you set your phone down. You wash up and get ready for the day. 

After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you head to Frankie’s side of the closet and grab one of his soft, cotton tees to throw on. 

You head to the kitchen, your first course of action being to fire up the espresso machine. Espresso is the only form of coffee you drink, and soon enough, Frankie followed in your footsteps. Just as you suspected, as soon as the smell of the beans filled the air, Frankie appeared in the kitchen. His sleepy eyes and sexed out hair on display nearly cause your knees to buckle, your aching pussy betraying your want for a lazy morning. 

He makes his way to you and kisses you, soft and slow, probably needing a lazy morning just as much as you. “Good morning, mi esposa (my wife),” he says, voice still raspy from sleep. 

“Mmm, good morning, mi esposo (my husband),” you smile up at him. “Sleep well?”

“With the sleep that I did get, I’d say yeah,” he says. “You really tired me out, hermosa (beautiful),” he adds.

You pull him down for another kiss. You’ll never tire of the feeling. “Waffles?”

His eyes light up, a boyish grin on his face. “Yes, please.”

Around 8:30 as you and Frankie finish your waffles, the front door is unlocking. A little girl with crazy hair comes busting in, running straight for the both of you to pull you guys into a tight group hug. 

“Mommy! Daddy!” she screams.

“Mi amorcito,” Frankie responds, matching her energy. “Mi niña loca (my crazy girl),” you squeal. “I missed you so much!” you add. 

You and Frankie kiss each of her cheeks, sandwiching her little face. 

“Did you have fun with tío Santi?” you ask.

“So much fun, mommy! We had ice cream for break-”

Before she could finish, Santi chimes in. “O-o-okayyyyy, Isa!” he claps his hand once. “Why don’t you bring this to your room,” he hands her a tiny gift bag — probably the product of some shopping they did — “while I talk to mommy and daddy?”

“Okay, tío Santi!” She takes the bag and makes her way to her room. 

Your eyebrows are raised in mock scolding as you wait for Santi to explain himself. “Hey! In my defense, those puppy dog eyes are a killer. I couldn’t say no.”

The three of you break out into laughter, Frankie going in for a hug, clapping Santi on the back as he releases him. 

“Waffles?” you offer Santi. He graciously accepts, making his way to the other side of the kitchen counter, helping himself. 

“So-” you and Frankie say at the same time. Santi pauses his actions mid-bite. 

Frankie nudges you to speak first. You clear your throat to ease the awkwardness in the room. 

“So,” you start again. “Were you, uh… were you serious about watching Isa?” you ask?

“Every weekend?” Frankie adds. 

You giggle, nodding an affirmative at your husband. “Yes, every weekend?” 

Santi finishes the bite he paused on, and sets his waffle down. “You dirty dogs!” he says. 

“Pope, come on,” Frankie’s palms go over his cheeks that are currently turning red at Santi’s teasing. 

He lets out a laugh. “Sí, cabrón (yes, asshole),” Santi says, slapping Frankie’s shoulder.  “Of course I’m serious. I’d do anything for both of you, and especially that demon of a little girl.” 

Your heart warms at Santi’s sentiment. You’re beyond grateful Frankie has a best friend like him. 

“On one condition,” Santi adds, his eyebrow quirked up.

“Anything,” you say eagerly. Frankie nods his head in agreement with you.

“I also wasn’t kidding when I said I’d need another sobrino (niece/nephew).”

You and Frankie look at each other, your stares saying everything they needed to. Yeah, Santi didn’t need to worry about that. 

And you were right when the next Saturday morning, a month and four tío Santi sleepovers later, you and Frankie presented Santi with your pregnancy test displaying two pink lines.

End note: Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc, — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback for my stories (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

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#pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedrostories #endless thoughts fics #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #smut fic #one shot #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales smut #francisco morales

[finelinevogue]

happy surprise

summary - celebrating the one year anniversary of harry’s house

word count: +1k

pairing: fiance!harry x reader

When Harry woke up he wasn’t expecting to wake up alone.

Every morning since you and Harry had moved in together, you had woken up next to each other, probably cocooned by one another, and discussed any dreams that you’d had. That was a habit you’d both continued ever since you and Harry both told each other you had the same dream on the same night; a dream which involved you two getting married.

You’ve called each other soulmates ever since.

So, Harry couldn’t understand why you’d leave him cold in bed and without a dream partner on this particular day.

Normally he would do his morning routine before heading downstairs, but he was too confused by the disappearance of you to care to brush his teeth, brush his hair, shave his stubble or put on any clothes bar the boxers he was wearing.

Normally he would do his morning routine before heading downstairs, but he was too confused by the disappearance of you to care to brush his teeth, brush his hair, shave his stubble or put on any clothes bar the boxers he was wearing.

“Babe?” Harry called out at the top of the stairs. No response had him trecking down the stairs.

He popped his head into various rooms, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary and nowhere housed you.

When he arrived at the kitchen, planning to get himself some water since he was now down here, the door was shut. It’s never shut, because you demanded an open house to let air and light through.

Then Harry’s gaze found the top of the door and noticed there was a pink paper sign, that had clearly been made by you and your lack of creative ability, that said ‘Harry’s House’. He smiled in confusion and knocked on the door.

“Baby? Y/N/N?” He called out your nickname.

Just when he was about to open the door, you finally appeared. You opened the kitchen door just a smidge and smiled so brightly when you saw him. You wouldn’t open the door any more than an inch, just so he could see your face.

“Hi!”

“Hello?” Harry said, confused, “Lovie? What are you doing? Why aren’t you in bed with me?”

“I…Um…” You stumbled on your words, not having thought through this part of the plan.

“Oh just let him in, Y/N!”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow, “Is that..?”

You then open the door for him and his suspicions are met as he sees his mum standing there, holding some sparkly balloons with the number ‘1’ on them. Then he sees Gem, all of his management, the band and everyone who helped him out on his album.

If the big banner above the kitchen island wasn’t enough of a clue, Harry suspected this was a party to celebrate the one year anniversary of ‘Harry’s House’ - the album.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted and Harry just stood there, absolutely no shame that he was in his boxers only, looking around in amazement.

All his favourite people were under one roof and under one room, and all before midday.

“What the…” Harry said and everyone laughed. “Baby, are we having the same dream again?” He turned to you.

“No, this is real.” You giggled excitedly, so happy that you had managed to pull this off. You hadn’t even thought about doing anything until last weekend, but it was a necessity to celebrate one of Harry’s greatest achievements in your opinion.

Jeff came up to him with a cake and Harry blew out the candles on top. People cheered and popped poppers and tooted little horns in celebration. Harry didn’t think he could feel any more loved in that moment than he did then.

“You have your wonderful fiancé to thank for all this, H.” Anne interjected the fun momentarily.

“Oh it was nothing.” You waved your hands to stop her from shedding the spotlight onto you.

Harry turned to you, where you were stood slightly behind him still at the door. “I should’ve known this was all you.” He smiled at your, hearts in his eyes.

“Couldn’t not celebrate one of the biggest achievements in your life.” You shrugged your shoulders like it was no big deal.

Harry shook his head so softly you might’ve missed it if you weren’t so in love with noticing him and all his details. “What?” You asked shyly, the room quieting around you even though people were still talking loudly.

“I love you, so much.” Harry said.

“I love you too.” You smiled at him, tears in your eyes from how overwhelming this moment was.

“I want to kiss you but I haven’t brushed m’teeth.” He said and you chuckled at how silly he was being.

“I don’t care.” You let out a tearful laugh.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Good. ‘Cause neither do I.”

Harry took two steps to get to you, grabbing your cheeks with his hands and pulling your lips to his. You couldn’t breathe before he sealed his lips to yours, but kissing him gave you all the air you needed.

You twisted your hands around his neck and pulled on the tiny curls of hair at the base of his head. He moved his head from side to side as he tried to continue your kiss for as long as possible.

It was you who had to pull away first because you couldn’t quite catch your breathe. You let out a breathy laugh as you did so and Harry kissed your forehead in delight.

“You’re amazing.” Harry whispered against your head as he kissed the tip of your nose this time.

“I know.”

“And I love you so fucking much.”

“I know.”

“I was so lucky to find you.” He shook his head as he looked down at you with so much admiration.

“The feelings mutual.” You leant up to kiss him again, softer and quicker this time, “Oh and H? Happy 1 year anniversary to your third baby.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #fic rec harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurbs #finelinevogue fic rec #harry styles imagine #fic rec finelinevogue #harry styles blurb #finelinevogue harry styles #harry styles fanfics #harrys house #harrys house anniversary

[fawnforevergone]

Quick List of References to Dante's Inferno in "Unreal Unearth" (Part One)

HELLO !!! there is now an updated list since we have now heard the old album so please go check that out instead: [ the ultimate "unreal unearth" reference list" ]

[ PART TWO ]

If I miss anything or get anything wrong, let me know! I'm so interested to know what everyone else thinks, too :]

Another long post, but I simply have too much to say.

THIS WAS MADE BEFORE THE ALBUM RELEASE !!!!

"DE SELBY (PART ONE)" "You take in the blackness of air, the likes of a darkness so deep that God, at the start, couldn't bear." The theme of darkness is a repetitive one in Dante's Inferno, representing sin and it's deceiving behaviour. Particularly in the opening of Inferno, Dante and Virgil have to treck through a thick blackness after entering the gates of Hell.

"DE SELBY (PART TWO)" "Let all time slow, let all light go, I don't need to know where we begin again." DS(P2) is another song that references the absence of light, and would make sense being a continuation of DS(P1). "Let all time slow" references the eternal and infinite nature of a punishment in Hell, and "let all light go", again, show the darkness of Inferno. "I don't need to know where we begin again" is more a repetition of Hozier's own work with his multiple references of death not being the end - "Francesca", "Work Song", "All Things End", "Wasteland, Baby", etc. - but still references the idea of entering a new life after entering Inferno.

"FIRST TIME" "And the soul, if that's what you'd call it, uneasy ally of the body, felt as nameless as a river, undiscovered underground." It appears, in the track list, that we are now moving beyond the threshold of Hell. The mention of "a river, undiscovered underground", is a reference to the river Acheron that runs through Inferno. The river contains a ferry, ran by the Greek Psychopomp, Charon, who escorts the souls of the underworld. Dante is known for mixing different mythologies together in Inferno, so the mentions of "soul" and "river" and "undiscovered underground" all seem to be a reference to Charon and his role in Inferno.

"FRANCESCA" The whole song of Francesca is a reference to the story of Francesca da Rimini, who was sentenced to the second circle of Hell, 'Lust', after caught in an affair with her husband's brother, Paolo. Francesca claims that love has seized her so tightly that she can't stop loving Paolo, not even in Hell. The entire song references this story so I won't pinpoint these lyrics. "My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane?" The second circle of Hell is plagued by violent winds meant to reflect the passions of reckless love. The winds are so strong that the inhabitants of 'Lust' find themselves thrown around and unable to stay in one spot. Hozier claims to not be afraid of these winds, saying that love has always felt this reckless, even in mortality, and death will not phase him. Whether he is saying this from the perspective of himself or Francesca is up for debate.

"I, CARRION (ICARIAN)" The whole song is very clearly about the tale of Icarus, and even has some mentions to the titan Atlas, "You have held your hands beneath. Once I had wondered what was holding up the ground. I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down." Icarus and Titans are mentioned throughout Inferno, Hozier again hinting at the mosaic of mythology Dante created. In Inferno, Dante compares his own dread to the plummeting of Icarus, and Hozier now compares his love to the dreaming and hope of Icarus as he flew, making it a fitting song for the 'Lust' circle as well.

"EAT YOUR YOUNG" We now enter the third circle, 'Gluttony', and the song is very overt in its imagery of hunger. As far as I'm aware, the song has more political references than it does direct references to Inferno, but the song is very obviously about Gluttony.

"DAMAGE GETS DONE" The minimal lyrics we have for this song don't give me a lot, but I would say they definitely don't reflect hunger, so I think we have entered the fourth circle, 'Greed'. 'Greed' is categorised as one of the sins committed out of a lack of self-control, like 'Lust' and 'Gluttony'. However, Hozier seems to be fighting this idea in the lyrics, claiming, "But I know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done." The idea of "damage" also reflects the circle of 'Greed', as the punishment for this sin is that the inhabitants are grouped into halves, and each half are forced to engage in an eternal battle that leaves them so injured, they are impossible to recognise.

"WHO WE ARE" I'll be honest, in terms of references, we don't have a lot for this song, although, as mentioned in the next paragraph, "Son Of Nyx" has to be about the fifth circle, 'Anger', so "Who We Are" is either another 'Greed' song or it's a second 'Anger' song. Although, we do have the lyric, "But it sharpens like a knife", which throws me back to the knife imagery of "Take Me To Church", a very biblical song in terms of imagery, and in the fourth circle, 'Greed', Dante sees varying members of the Clergy, so perhaps "Who We Are" is a similar song to "Take Me To Church", and takes place in 'Greed'. TMTC: "You can sharpen your knife", "My lover's the sunlight", "She demands a sacrifice", "Only then, I am human." WWA: "It sharpens like a knife", "We're born at night", "Darling, we sacrificed", "It's who we are." The biblical similarities could present this as a 'Greed' song, referencing the various clergymen who reside there. "SON OF NYX" Though we have no lyrics, we know the song after this is "All Things End", which is about the sixth circle, 'Heresy', so this song has to be about the fifth circle, 'Anger'. Nyx was a Greek Goddess who was the personification of night, once again referencing darkness in this album. Nyx has many offspring, all presenting various different things. Nyx, however, did inhabit the dark recesses of the underworld, respected and feared by even Zeus. We have no lyrics ( although, perhaps it is just this song renamed ? who knows ), so I can't say for certain how this relates, but a Goddess that resides in the underworld seems very fitting for Inferno.

---

Again, if I missed anything, please tell me! I'm already so obsessed with this album, I need to know if there is content I am missing, thank you soldiers. (ง’̀-‘́)ง

#hozier #unreal unearth #lyrics #francesca #eat your young #son of nyx #damage gets done #who we are #de selby part 1 #de selby part 2 #i am so obsessed with this album i cannot stop thinking about it #music #music analysis #lyric analysis #literature

[theosphobia]

Hello rvbblr, rvb tumblr, the 3 people always liking my posts.

I bring my first ever fanfiction. and its rvb. idk how ao3 works so im just gonna drop it in here and hope thats accceptable.... erm... anyways

Everyone got seperated; the reds and blues were scattered in a pirate stronghold. Their long range comms were down and pirates lurked around every corner trying to hunt the sim troopers down.

Washington had just survived a scuffle, breaking into a run as he heard familiar shouting not too far off. Just around a couple shipping containers, Wash found Caboose standing over a pirate, Freckles' barrel smoking from fresh fire.

The blue caught the solider in the side of his vision and raised the ai-assisted rifle towards him, confetti dispersed from the gun.

"Friendly Signature Detected."

"Agent Washington! Uhm, he was like that when I got here."

Wash pushed the thought of Caboose firing at him away, he was just glad to see a friendly face.

"Caboose! Have you seen anyone else?" Wash asked, jogging up to the larger character.

Caboose looked back down at the pirate he was resting his foot on,

"On our team Caboose."

"Oh! No." Caboose shook his head and moved away from the body, sizing up to Wash.

"Are you doing okay? You hurt anywhere?" Wash started to walk and the other followed closely.

"I'm a little stressed out... and hungry.." he started. "We should find Griff next!"

Wash chuckled and patted Caboose on the back, "Hey Freckles?" The gun chimed in response, "can you find any other friendly contacts?"

"Nearest Friendly Tag is 356m away. Identification: Lavernius Tucker."

"Awesome, Can you guide us to him?" Wash asked. The custom laser sight on the rifle turned on and pointed forward. Caboose stared curiously, turning the gun from side to side, the line remained aimed toward its original path. Caboose gave a coo of amazement.

"Lets get going, the sooner we find the others the better."

--

Wash and Caboose followed Freckles' guide until they hit a large pond in the cave; they could see the remainder of the pirate stronghold on the otherside, but the water seemed to stretch to the walls, and they couldn't see the bottom. The laser ran true straight across the water.

Washington stopped for a moment to think while Caboose took a couple steps into the pond.

"I saw something over here! It might be those sim troopers!"

A voiced called from not too far away. Wash cursed to himself, a group of red dots were moving towards them on his motion tracker.

"Maybe they know how we can get across!" Caboose cheered, turning around towards the noise and started walking. Wash caught him by the arm,

"Caboose no they're trying to kill us remember?"

"Oh yeah.."

"There's no time, we're just gonna have to go through it." Wash sighed, leading the blue giant back towards the water and stepping in.

"Uhm I can't swim very well.." Caboose started, standing a bit back from Wash.

"We're not swimming, our suits will recycle air for a while, we should just be able to walk along the bottom." Washington informed him. The other man didn't argue, stashed Freckles, and followed along, both of the started to move as fast as they could in half-ton armour in water as the shouting grew louder.

They were fully submerged for a while before Wash started to notice something wrong, he was wet.

"Uh 'boose.... buddy, not to scare you or anything but I think my armour is filling up with water." Wash could feel a cut in his kevlar around his neck. He must have gotten it in that fight earlier.

"Wuh oh.." Caboose had stopped and turned to look at Wash, somehow he had managed to be moving faster than the freelancer. "Should we go back?" There was a tinge of panic in his voice.

"We can't... we just have to move faster, it can't be that much farther now" He tried holding his hand to seal the hole but water still managed to seep through his fingers, the water was hitting his waist now.

Caboose nodded and reached back, grabbing Wash's free hand, and started pulling him along so their treck sped up.

At some point, the weight behind him stalled.

"Agent Washington?"

"It's in my helmet."

Wash couldn't see, but Caboose's eyes widened. He moved closer to Washington,

"Freckles uhm.. how much further?" The blue asked as he began picking up Wash and slinging him over his shoulder without protest.

"Nearest Friendly Tag is 189m away"

Panic was rising in his voice, "okay thank you Freckles!" His speed was considerably lessened with the extra weight but that didn't stop Caboose from making his strides as quick as possible.

--

Wash had stopped responding about halfway from their predictament. Caboose didn't stop moving until they breached the shore on the other side.

Caboose laid Washington on the ground and unholstered Freckles, laying it behind them.

"Freckles you lookout for bad guys."

"Affirmative."

Oh crap oh crap oh crap... Caboose's hands shook as his fingers fumbled with the clasps on Wash's helmet and chestplate.

Water poured out as the seals broke, Wash's hair clung to his forehead. His chest laid still.

What do I do what do I do?? Think Michael think!! Caboose tried to remember what Doc had taught them ages ago. CPR CPR...

"First check to see if they're breathing! If they're not then you'll probably have to perform CPR. Since Grif already knows how to do it he'll be my demonstration."

Caboose glanced at the still freelancer, his chest was still, their chest moves when they breath right?

"Remember, you guys are wearing half-ton armour so you won't have to compress as hard as you would if you weren't. You should press down twice per second, there's songs that help but Beyoncé is timeless so we're gonna use Crazy In Love." Caboose positioned himself above Wash, tried to remember the correct hand shape, and hovered above the freelancer's chest. What if I mess up I don't want to kill Wash he's not special like Church is... he won't come back..

He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. He started compressing, finding it easier to just count than remember Doc's silly song.

"Every 30 or so compressions try and give rescue breaths! Tilt their head back a little while pinching their nose to open their airway. Then you're gonna blow into their mouth a normal amount just enough so their chest rises; do that twice. If it doesn't rise make sure they don't have anything stuck in their throat. Grif is that gum I see in there?"

Caboose quickly brought his face to Wash's, blood splattered across his visor.

"Haha whoops sorry Washington!" He brought his hands back to unclasp his own helmet and set it to the side; turning back to brush away some of the bloody nose with his hand.

Caboose lingered slightly, he could feel the air around them now, he could also feel the lack of air coming from Wash's mouth. He cradled the back of Wash's neck in his hand, pinched his nose with the other and started his rescue breaths.

He fell into autopilot, repeating the steps in his mind over and over as he did them until a sharp breath came from Washington, as did a mouthful of cave pond water.

Caboose helped him sit up as Wash coughed up his missing breaths; his gaze fixated on the older man's movement.

"Caboose?" The blue's eyes bore into Wash, he seemed terrified. The feeling broke at the sound of his name however.

"Agent Washington you're okay! You should avoid drinking pond water, I don't think it's good for you." There was smeared blood on Caboose's face, Wash dipped his hand into the water and rubbed it against the stain.

"How'd you get blood on you 'Boose? Where's your helmet?" The other blue wore his helmet so often it was rare to see his face, his hair had gotten a bit longer and Wash could see wearing smile lines from his angle.

"Oh uhm! So when we got out of the water you weren't breathing so I tried to give you Cee Pee Arr but I forgot to take my helmet off! So now you have a bloody nose and you shared it with me when I gave you rescuing breaths!" He smiled, reaching beside him to grab his helm and snapped it back on, his second face returned.

Wash rubbed the back of his hand against his face, his helmet was off as well, and his own blood smeared against the glove.

"Holy shit you saved my life Caboose."

"I did?" His head tilted and he perked up again."I did! Oh my god does that mean my team kills go down? Because I saved you?"

Wash chuckled, clasping his breastplate back on and grabbing his helmet.

"Sure it does."

"Oh! You should probably cover that hole in case we have to go swimming again, Church always packed some for me..." Caboose dug around in his utility belt and procured a large patch used for underarmour sealing; he handed it to Wash and watched as the freelancer slapped it against his neck and rubbed it down.

"Geez thanks Caboose, you're really on it today." Wash said as brushed his hair back and locked his helm back in place.

Caboose wiggled from his seated position, paused, and grabbed Freckles before firing behind him.

Confetti dispersed from the rifle.

"Friendly Signature Detected."

"Caboose what the hell?! Did you really just try to shoot me?"

"Hi Tucker!"

#please be lenient im not good at writinf #im also horrible at character comprehension so if theyre ooc leave me alone sobs #“He would NOT fucking say that” moment #comments r appreciated.... #rvb #red vs blue #rooster teeth #michael j caboose #caboose rvb #agent washington #david washington #wash rvb #my writing #fanfiction #rvb fic

[deseraethesimp]

Professor & His assistant

Prof!Simon Riley & Afab!reader

Wanings: A little age gap, oral (fem reciving), pure nsfw

This was kinda short, and I might’ve not spell checked it...

                                         ꧁•⊹٭!!Minors DNI!!٭⊹•꧂

You were always somehow the teachers pet, no matter how much trouble you have gotten into. You decided to be a teacher...Assistant, but it wasn’t to bad, Mr.Riley was very funny once you had gotten close.

You were in your little business casual outfit, and he loved the way it lightly hugged your curves and every imperfection that he needed to touch. Today he was letting you teach a topic you really liked and always talked about, while you were standing at the lecture stand and he was staring where ever he could. you knew it to, the way he secretly drooled over those tits, ass, thighs, face, hair, eyes, ANYWHERE. You were finished, Class was over you were worn out mentally. You put in your air-pods and began listening to music, you bent over to grab your bag and Simon saw a peak of your panties. He knew it was perverted but something about that made him painfully hard, you grabbed your stuff and walked to him. “Mr. Riley?” he looked at you “Yes Y/n?” “today was really fun but I’m worn out” your laugh made him blush a bit. You and him made conversation when he asked “Do you wanna come to my place” you were so confused but you perked up and smiled “Ofc!” you nudged him a bit “are we gonna talk about boys and do each others hair~?” He smiled a bit                                               ~LATER~

You were on your phone listening to music off one airpod, wearing some pj pants and a tight shirt. He was just watching TV, texting someone..You got up and hopped on him “SOoooOO who ya texting that’s gotta be sooo secretive sir?” he heard the music from your airpod and you smiled “Is it a girl” you gasped “IS SHE PRETTY??” you continued questioning him before he finally answered “Its one of my friends from the military before I had to leave” your eyes widened “You were in the military? Is that why your strong, or you have that tattoo? Or your so muscular, o-” he put his hand over your mouth “Never knew you were so curious” he sighed “Yes to all your silly questions” His thick accent..how big he was compared to you, the way he looked at you, how small you were on one thigh. All of this hit you in one wave of arousal and you moved your hips back and fourth one time. Maybe he didn’t notice luckily? You wrapped your hands around his wrist and pulled his hand off your mouth. “Their not silly!” you rolled your eyes “I think as a little teachers pet I could be curious?”  he smiled a little bit “Yeah a little too curious luvie” his hands slowly trecked down to your hips.

You began moving back and fourth slowly, whining softly, his hands moving all around you. Their was a cum stain in your panties now after getting off, Simon pushed you down on the couch. Your back hitting the cushions, he slowly slid off your pants and panties. Your inner thighs and cunt covered in slick and your own cum now, he licked a small stripe up. You clasped your thighs together, ringing his head like a bell hips bucking up “S-sorry I’m super sensi-” He had no time to talk or no way to talk being muffled. He was eating you out like a starved man, Overstimulating you to the brink of seeing outer space. He lifted up cover in every liquid he made come out, he quickly grabbed his phone taking a picture of you. Bottom half exposed in a bra, he had the flash on you covered your face and turned to the side.

He took very good care of you and made you his Home screen but only the face part. With your sweaty hands and messed up hair...He smiled everytime he saw it. He fed you some very good food, you didn’t know what it is but you listened to music and fell alseep after being worn out

BONUS: The next day, even though he didn’t pound your guts like you hoped your legs were still jello. Due to it being your first time being touched by someone who wasn’t your hands. You still think about it in class, though it hurts to walk you still made it. He practically laughed in your face when he looked at you with a shit eating grin.

YALL IM SO FUCKIN PROUD OF MYSELF THIS IS MY LONGEST PEICE OF WRITING TAKING ME 2 FULL HOURS YAYYY!!! - Xoxo Desi Boo

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod x reader #cod smut

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON VORHEES (friday the 13th 2009)

────────────────────

────────────────────

“Pretty Pastels & Marajuana Leaves” (Jason Vorhees x Fem!Reader)

| Walking with Jason as he gathers up (and adds to) all the dead bodies from the last group of victims unlucky enough to encroach on Crystal Lake.

| SFW, depictions of killing and dead bodies, reader is being held captive, post-movie -callous!reader

| Pic Source: Friday The 13th 2009

| 2k+ words

The trees on the campgrounds always seemed oddly unbothered despite whatever blood had fertilized the soil the night prior. It was as if over all the years of bloodshed the nature around it had adapted to derive nutrients from carnage.

Most days it certainly felt like blood hit the ground more so than it rained.

Today the sun was blazing even at eight in the morning, gearing up to be just as cruel and scorching as the revenant that watched over Crystal Lake every second of every hour.

Weeks ago when you and your friends had first set up camp here, so sure the lake’s protector was nothing but a ghost story, you hadn’t known just how much your life would change.

Beside you Jason, nearly blocking out the light from your left, leads the way. He’d only just dragged you around while he did his usual disposal rounds and picked up all the bodies to burn all at once in a massive pit you’d watched him dig; the usual drill.

You hadn’t been with this group of unlucky visitors this time around but you’d met one of them. Clay, looking for the woman you knew Jason had below the cabin; the guy's sister.

You’d give the girl one thing, she’d been trouble and it’d been a miracle when during her escape attempt none of them had stumbled across where Jason usually kept you. A happenstance you still weren’t sure how to feel about.

Regardless, there was certainly no running away for you now. Not only had Jason kept one survivor this time, he’d kept two, and one of them he’s seemingly still hellbent on keeping. In some way at least. You don’t feel particularly positive about Whitney’s chances, and you know after witnessing the rage Jason was thrown into after coming to retrieve you sopping wet and with a fancy new hockey mask later in the day than usual that Clay was even more doomed.

You sigh. The flowers are a nice view at least. They bloomed in grand hues of pastels with a freedom you’d probably never have again amongst the vibrant green grass. The ground is dewy, you’re wearing some victims boots from months ago as you traverse beside your captor, however unconventional of one he was.

Your steps squelch as you come up on a sea of marijuana. Green and thinly clover shaped as they were, you recognized them instantly.

Fun. You think, almost hysterically. Someone must have died for weed.

You smile. Of all the things.

The tall grasses have collected water during the downpour, as Mother Nature did Jason the favor of washing away all his sins, and droplets lightly dampen your pants as the greenery slashes at your legs.

For at least the fifth time since you started your treck Jason bends over in the grass. Behind his bulk you can’t begin to see what he’s doing but so long as he doesn’t make any sudden movements towards you you’re not gonna worry about it.

You hated when he brought you outside more than anything. The sheer malice of the illusion of freedom hurt too much. For as sweetly as he handles you - about as sweetly as you imagine he can at all - none of it could make you forget how brutally he’d slashed his way through your friends. You had zero idea why he’d spared you specifically, whether for amusement or companionship or what but you did know that you were still alive, and that unlike the other woman he’d taken captive he carted you around with him everywhere so long as visitors weren’t around.

The two of you stop outside the boat shack and the lake air sticks as insistently in the back of your throat as the mint leaves Jason makes you chew.

Jason opens the door for you but not before one huge arm swings into your chest. His touch is relatively gentle, you only jolt from it at all because you’d already been walking forward.

It’s a small bouquet of wildflowers that meets your gaze when you look down. You inhale softly.

“U-uh,” you try, voice scratchy from disuse. You clear your throat, “Tha-nks?”

Shaky hands reach up to accept the gift and with the assortment safely clasped in your hold you try speaking again.

“Thank you, Jason.”

The way you speak is nearly a whisper but Jason clearly hears you anyway if the way he vaguely puffs up and nearly carries you into the shack himself is any indication.

After that the route you take to the dugout is familiar; you don’t have to pay much attention to where you’re going. Jason’s steps are sure and heavy bouncing off the walls of the dugout, your own steps not even registering as you follow closely behind him while using the light from his lantern to more closely examine the “bouquet” he’s given you.

Calling it a bouquet at all was incredibly generous but you wouldn’t deny that an attempt had been made to make it look more impressive. A silk ribbon tied into a crude bow holds all of the stems together and some of the flowers weren’t from the field you’d walked through earlier either and the pastel colors of every flower were a stark contrast to the grungy look of the dirt walls around you. For now you’d take the gesture for what it was, but no matter how much you acted like it you were in no way content here, just biding your time.

The closer y’all get to Jason’s other captives the louder the sounds of struggle and vague whimpers get. Something in you should feel bad for them, you know that, but they’d had their shot and squandered the fuck out of it for everyone else involved including you. From what Jason had done his best to convey to you yesterday and the context clues you’d picked up on by yourself Clay and Whitney had drowned and maybe tried to strangle Jason but had stayed around to reminisce or some shit like a bunch of idiots and now here you all were.

Immediately upon seeing Jason Clay starts up a barrage of yelling. None of which Jason truly reacts to. The killer’s irritated, you can tell as much with how jerky his movements have gotten, but that’s about it. Clay’s wasting his breath.

It takes both of them a while to catch sight of you, hidden behind Jason’s back as you are, until he moves to gather up a bunch of rope he’s collected off to the side. It opens you up to the siblings fully and they stare at you confused.

Clay is still huffing angrily from earlier and even as he turns furrowed brows your way it’s Whitney who finds her voice first.

“What, are you helping him?”

Her voice is tinged with disbelief and your hands clench over your flowers.

Despite everything bleak and unsettling about your current predicament you find yourself laughing. It’s short, a little mean even.

“Does he look like he needs my help?”

No immediate retort. Clay’s eyes narrow.

“Wait, I know you,” he says. He shifts, chains rattling, “You were in the woods. You said you were staying in a ‘neighboring cabin’. I asked you about Whitney and you said you’d never seen her.”

As he talks he gets more and more incensed, pulling against his restraints like a madman. Jason remains unbothered by the commotion though so you make a point to not back away from Clay and his thrashing.

“You’re a monster,” Clay finishes. You don’t bother doing anything more than raising an eyebrow. You weren’t any Mother Teresa, you knew that, but even Mother Teresa didn’t live up to the myth of her own virtue so you’d live. You were surviving, if that made you a monster then so be it.

Jason turns back around, sheathed machete pulling off the impossible and managing to glint under the murky lighting, and Whitney turns wet pleading eyes your way.

‘Help us,’ she mouths, and even accompanied with Clay’s smoldering gaze over her shoulder you’re not swayed.

Help them with what plan? Get yourself killed trying to fight a behemoth of a man so they could get away more likely.

You scoff. Please.

When Jason hands you one end of the bundle of rope you don’t hesitate to shift your little bundle of pastels to one hand to grab it with your now free one. He ties clay up easily, brushing off his thrashing like a mom would to a curious baby getting its diaper changed, and throws the man over his shoulder to haul to the surface.

When Whitney pleads aloud at you for a second time to do something while they’re gone you ask her straight up what her plan is and when she comes up mum you shrug plainly.

“Then no,” you murmur, and she spits in your face.

You sigh, wipe the saliva off from where it landed under your chin, delicately stuff the bouquet flower-side up into the front of your overall pocket, and move to grab the two cinder blocks Jason had indicated before leaving.

If Jason was willing to kill her after going out of his way to kidnap her after she’d tried to escape only once - someone who looked nearly the splitting image of his own mother - you weren’t willing to take any chances and get yourself murdered too. Plus, black as you were, you weren’t passing for this man’s mother worth a damn; appealing to his longing for a long dead maternal figure wasn’t an option for you.

Carrying the blocks make your arms ache and the concrete scratches unpleasantly at your skin but when Jason descends to haul Whitney topside after her brother you soldier on quietly.

When Jason situates brother and sister across from one another on the damp ground near the lake you stay just as silent.

When he ties the the blocks to Clay’s bound body and basically presents him to Whitney like a prized pony your lips stay locked, and when he sets him down in front of her - so close they’re breathing the same air - and poises his machete like an executioner’s sword you don’t let the scream rip from your throat no matter how much you want to match Whitney’s mournful pitch and Clay’s desperate incoherent yelling.

The blade slices clean through Whitney’s neck, cutting off her voice with a sick gurgle. Blood spurts like a fountain from her headless body onto Clay’s face and you don’t do anything but stand stiff like you always do, hell bent on not being next, as he sputters and chokes on the endless gush of her lifeblood.

Her blood hasn’t stopped gushing even as her dead body falls forward into her brother. Tied up as he is Clay can’t begin to catch her and he certainly can’t keep his tentative balance himself either and they both go toppling to the ground.

In contrast Whitney’s head has long since rolled closer to your frozen form and you blink rapidly down at the terrified open mouthed expression forever etched onto her face.

The next breath you take feels like breathing through a straw and that lake air sticks down the column of your throat like dew drops.

Clay’s still yelling, but the blood and wet muddy earth lodged up his throat makes them come out more like low grunts and squeals. A pig to be slaughtered.

The desperate sympathetic gasp you let in barely makes a sound and your hands begin to tremble as Jason stomps over with more rope.

You bite back a whimper as he ties brother and sister together, uncaring of Clay’s begging him not to, then drags them off to the lake.

After that Jason drops Clay in with little fanfare. When next he ambles closer to you, flayed head in hand and large sprays of blood and splashes of water soaking his front, and leans over to press a masked facsimile of a kiss to your forehead you don’t make a peep.

Ever silent, you wipe the tears that have soaked the planes of your face away and stumble only slightly as Jason drags you with him to start yet another large bonfire fueled by bones and decomposing flesh.

You didn’t know if in the foreseeable future you’d ever be free, if you’d ever bloom as wildly and as freely as all those pastel pink swamp azaleas in the field or so much marijuana under the shade, but what you did know was that you wouldn’t ever let yourself end up as just another head propped up on that damn mantle in Jason’s cabin.

No matter what.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

Y’all I was supposed to get this out on Friday The 13th, but I fell asleep so now y’all get it on Saturday The 14th🫶🏾. The 2009 Remake is actually one of my favorite horror remakes and my favorite Friday film so it’s a little surprising that it took me this long to post a Jason fic, but whatever, I’m a slow writer anyway.

Also, mind any typos, I’ll get to them later.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

#jason vorhees #friday the 13th 2009 #black!reader #black y/n #jason vorhees x black!reader #an apocalypse-shuffle halloween special #jason vorhees imagine #x black!fem!reader #x black!reader #slasher x black!reader #slashers x black!reader #slasher imagines #jason vorhees x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #jason x reader #friday the thirteenth #friday the 13th #friday the 13th imagine

[no-hhamani]

Title: Home

Ship: Knock Out x Autobot! Reader x Breakdown (POLY!)

(Cant believe there's a lack of Breakdown GIFs)

You are a scout, while scouting an area with your bestfriend Bumblebee in a complex system of the underground mines, you both are forcefully separated when the structure collapsed. As you walk around the only remaining pathway trying to find a way back to your bff, you came along two mechs you haven't expected to meet

Note: Pronoun of Reader is not specified and there will be OOC!

You groaned when you came up with a dead end. Again.

You and Bumblebee were assigned to scout an abandoned human mine, now filled with pestering drones and whatnot. You were entailed that the mine is about 100 years old, give or take

From the supporting beams itself, you know it's old as fuck. Not older than you but with how short a human life span could be, it is definitely way pass their average life span.

You let out a steam of pressurized air again and went back to where you came, crossing a 'X' on the path in a poorly digitally drawn map by your wrist. You really are somewhat thankful for the tracking chip that was drilled into you, who knew it could be this handy personally?

You again looked at the map, wobbly lines of your walking pattern printed itself in a red line by the screen, only a single pulsing dot indicates of yourself. With your signals and comms disrupted by the fallen debrees earlier, it would have been easy tracking your partner and other forms of sentient beings that could possibly surround you right at this moment or you could have just commed the team and sens a SOS signal but bad luck seems to follow you in dark damp places. Ugh

You turned off the screen and continued trecking on dark paths, it took for a silent while before you started humming and murmuring the song with the tongue of Old Cybertron. It's a song with the oldest language you have learned.

Your scouting program in your processor warned you of such action, which is logical but you're tired. The war is going on for too long and you just want to go back to the times of festivals and bantering with old friends.

Humming such a lively tune warmed up the constricting pressure in any mech or femm's spark. The tune where it reminds of home

You hummed and hummed. Slowly trecking the long tunnel before you stopped and heard familiar voices far ahead and chuckled.

You moved fast but silent, drawing in closer by the dim light and quickly jumping by the corner when you knew they were present

"GLITCHES!" You whooped, immediately dodging a large fist with a loud laugh

"[NAME]! WHAT IN THE DESIGNATION OF PRIMUS WAS THAT FOR?!" Knock Out huffed, holding back the larger mech by the arm to avoid him toppling over you

"Hey, I heard you guys and thought why not?" You chuckled, which earned you a falling mech on you and you squawked

"I should've let him hit you" Knock Out groaned, crossing his arms as he watches the other two grounders piled on the ground

"Miss you too guys" You huffed and hugged the mech on top of you who snorted and did a noogie on your head, that definitely would have scratched your paint off "Nah we miss you more" Breakdown sighed and contently laid down on top of you

"Up Big Boy, you dont want to pressurize [Name] into a flat sheet of metal" Knock Out smirked and watched Breakdown slowly stand up, both then holding a hand out for you as you stood up with their help

"I'd still look pretty as a flat sheet" you chuckled and rotated your door wings to get the debrees out in between cracks which earned you two different actions from them

The three of you then hugged eachother, nuzzling eachother's armor as each bonded sparks hummed a happy and content melody. A melody like home

"Scratch my paint or else."

You and Breakdown froze and took a big gulp

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You, Breakdown and KnockOut have been conjunxes before the war, but have been separated during the Decepticon uprising.

You had joined the Autobots when the bombing and raid had started, thinking your conjunxes had also joined in but you haven't seen any of them

Only when the war had started to worsen when you caught a glimpse of them with a Decepticon symbol as they boarded a ship

Due to being in different factions, you had tried to secretly meet them in order to avoid suspiciouns from each side. Soon you and your conjunxes saw eachother with relief, they thought you were somewhere safe and hadn't joined any factions. They both had joined in the faction willingly, also thinking they could have found you earlier and kept you safe if they ever found you

From there on, you had kept secret of having conjunxes and them for having a third one. It avoided the affair of cross-faction relationships that could be used against any of you. So, you guys had secretly met up once in awhile

It hurted your spark to be so far away from them, and so were they. But, it kept you all safe.

During the war, with your small frame and a grounder alt mode. You had taken up a scouting role, soon meeting Bumblebee, a young spark, in one of your missions and you both became friends. Soon becoming partners in every mission you went out to

Bumblee actually followed you one time when you sneaked out and found out you're in a relationship with decepticons and he hadn't told anyone. Even you

When the war is finally over, everyone who you were close to were shocked when you kissed each of your conjunx infront of them, while Bumblee is just in the sidelines clapping, happy that his best friend is finally free to love

#non canon compliant #transformers prime #tfp #knock out #breakdown #tfp knock out #tfp breakdown #knockout x reader #breakdown x reader #tfp knockout x reader #tfp breakdown x reader #tfp knockout x reader x breakdown #polyamourous

[black-cat-showdown]

Welcome to the Black Cat Showdown!!

There's so many famous black cats out there, fictional or real. But Wich one is the ultimate kitty cat? Lets find out!!

FAQ <- If you have any questions ask them on that post! Propaganda is also allowed and encouraged!!

Link to full tournament brackets here!!

(full list of participants names under the cut!!)

The tournament will start on Saturday April 1st!!

Link to FAQ <- seriously read it before sending questions lmao

Here are all 108 participants!!

• 808 (Hi-Fi Rush) • Aldwyn (The Familiars) • Amanojaku (GhostStories) • Archie (Tales Of Arcadia) • Assisticat (CardFight) • Bagheera (Jungle Book) • Berlioz (The Aristocats) • Black Cat (The Price by Neil Gaiman) • Blackie (Chi's Sweet Home) • Blair (Soul Eater) • Bonifacy (Przygody Kota Filemona) • Cat card (Inscryption) • Catty Noir (Monster High) • Chito (Flying Witch) • Chococat (Sanrio) • Chrono's cat (Chrono Trigger) • Constable Whiskers (Cookie Run) • Cosmic Creepers (Bedknobs & Broomsticks) • Domino (Amphibia) • Doom (Ruby Gloom) • Faithful (The Song Of The Lioness) • Fastelavnstønde katten • Felix the cat • Gareth (Time Cat) • Giovanni (Spiritfarer) • Gobbolino (Gobbolino The Witch's Cat) • Hollyleaf (Warrior Cats) • Hresvelgion Whisker (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) • Ichigo (Tokyo Mew Mew) • Isis (Star Treck) • Jack (Mad Rat Dead) • Jenny Linski (Esther Averill books) • Jiji (Kiki's Delivery Service) • Jinx (@bigfootjinx) • Keats (Professor Layton) • Kevin (Vanessa Stockard's paintings) • Kiki (Animal Crossing) • Kitten-Shark (Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency) • Kittie Softpaws (Puss In Boots) • Kofu (@straycatj) • Koshekh (Welcome to Night Vale) • Kuro (Doko Demo Issy) • Kuro (Blue Exorcist) • Kuro (Servamp) • Kuroneko-sama (Trigun) • Litten (Pokemon) • Lucifer (Cinderella 1950) • Lucy-furr (Jackson's Diary) • Luna (Sailor Moon) • Mae Borowski (Night In The Woods) • Malame (Flappy Dragons) • Mao Mao (Mao Mao) • Maxwell (-the dancing cat) • Mewo (OMORI) • Midnight (Castle in the Air by Diana Wynne Jones) • Miles (Emily the Strange) • Minino (Hooky) • Miss Kitty Fantastico (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) • Mittens (Bolt) • Mog (Meg and Mog) • Momo (Google Halloween doodles) • Morgana (Persona 5) • Mr Mew (The World Ends With You) • Mr. Midnight (Fran Bow) • Mr. Mistoffelees (Cats) • Nargacuga (Monster Hunter) • Narinder (Cult Of The Lamb) • Naught (Naught) • Neko (Genshin Impact) • Nicol Ascart (Hamefura) • Nyanpire (Nyanpire) • Pantherlily (FairyTail) • Pete (Pete the Cat) • Pete the Cat (Mickey Mouse and Friends) • Pib (Dimension 20 Neverafter) • Plagg (Miraculous LadyBug) • Pluto (The Black Cat by Edgar Allen Poe) • Purrsephone & Meowlody (Monster High) • Ravage (Transformers) • Ravenpaw (Warrior Cats) • Rhiow (The Book of Night with Moon) • Sakamoto (Nichijou) • Salem Saberhagen (Sabrina the Teenage Witch) • Schrödinger's cat • Tama (Dragon Ball) • Smokey (Neko Atsume) • Siren (Suite Precure) • Snowball II (The Simpsons) • Somber Kitty (May Bird trilogy) • Sosa's cat (YUPPIE PSYCHO) • Spinel sun (Sakura Cardcaptor) • Sylvester (Looney Tunes) • Takkun (FLCL) • Thackery Binx (Hocus Pocus) • The Bean (#void watch) • the Beast (Fatum Betula) • The cat/Vermin (Coraline) • The Cat (Ghost Trick) • The Cat (Please Say Something) • The Cat (Little Kitty, Big City) • The Kitten (Kitbull) • Tuxedo cat (Minecraft) • Unico Uni (@uniconiuni3) • Vodka Mutini (Homestuck) • Witch's cat (minecraft) • Xiaohei (The Legend of Xiaohei) • Yoruichi (Bleach) • Yuni (Mewkledreamy)

#pinned posts #black cat tournament #competition #polls #animals

[plutoswritingplanet]

And I'll Be Like Sugar (Silco x Female!Reader)

a/n: slowly but surely i'm migrating all my works from ao3 on here. this one's a bit old, back when Arcane was super popular and there wasn't as much Silco content out there. Cross-posted on AO3

Warnings: tender Silco (but not like, too tender), mentions of blood and violence, imbalance of power but not really, Silco's touch starved, s-m-u-t

Summary: After a job-gone-kinda-wrong, you get a visit from the Devil himself.

Your heavy boots are splashing the drain water with every step, as you fly through the Alleys, the shadow of pursuit hanging over you like a dark cloud. There is a small scroll in your hand, paper crumbled by your deathly grip. Inside is the key to a new Shimmer shipment, all the places, all the dates, straight up treasure. If you play your cards right, you could help your gang lift up higher from the ground, maybe enough to feel the sun on their fingertips. 

The entrance to your lair is right in front of you, but instead you turn right, into a small back alley. You jump through a stinking cloud of pollution, remembering to hold your breath, as you immediately duck under some boards. 

You crawl right to an entrance to the drain, kicking it up, before jumping towards a ladder. You can never be too careful, especially since the person you stole from was quite literally the most powerful man in the whole Underside, hell even on the top he was quite revered.

So powerful, in fact, that he couldn't comprehend the fact, that anyone would be so dumb, as to try and steal from him. And yet here you were, the biggest idiot on the face of the earth, currently jumping from roof to roof. The air is much thinner up here, easier to breathe. The familiar roof of your lair is getting closer, an open window upstairs awaits your arrival. For good measure, you throw a quick look behind, seeing nothing but empty rooftops. That finally soothes your worry, and you dive inside, feet first, landing on a dusty mat that has been moved under the window. 

The place is warm inside, heat enveloping you almost instantly. Downstairs, you can hear your people chatting amongst the muted sounds of music. Shrugging off your coat and a scarf, you make the short treck to your office. Swinging the door open, you go straight to your desk, hiding the scroll in one of the drawers. 

- Silco knows - a heavy voice of your right hand, Solomon, startles you.

He's standing there, leaning on the door frame, a deep frown settled on his features. Before you took over the organization, his scrutinizing gaze used to make your palms sweat with stress. Now, after years of working together, you've developed a mutual sense of respect. 

- Knows what? - you ask incredulously, throwing a tired look over your arm.

This job has taken all your strength, rolled it up neatly and then chucked it down the drain. There was a throbbing pain beginning to bloom deep inside your skull, and you felt a familiar burn in your legs from pushing your body to its limits. You are going to be barely alive tomorrow, and quite possibly, you won't be able to move in the morning. Your bed is right there, behind a heavy curtain, and you feel a sudden need to plop down onto it.

- This isn't a joke, Y/N - Solomon sounds concerned, which in turn makes you concerned. 

He's the most stern out of the entire gang, rarely showing any emotion, which is why, you turn to face him fully.

- He's probably already on his way here - Solomon takes a few steps inside the office, his heavy boots making the floorboards creak. - I don't know, what kind of agreement you two have, and frankly, I don't want to know. But this? - he motions to the drawer with an offended gesture - This is too much.

God, you should've locked the door behind you, that way you could at least pretend you're not here to answer all of that. Instead, you take a deep breath, pressing your pointer and middle finger to the bridge of your nose. 

- It's just some shipment plans, he won't even notice the loss - your voice is calm and monotonous, like you're explaining the most mundane of things - I doubt he would treat it so personally, at most, he'll send one of his goons, and those I can deal with. No problemo.

Solomon doesn't look too convinced. He opens his lips to speak, but is promptly interrupted, as a scrawny looking kid barges into the office. He's barely standing on two legs, breathing heavily. When he looks up at you, you almost fall back at the panicked expression on his young face.

- Silco is coming here - he finally wheezes out, the words filling the room, soaking into the walls, the floor - I saw his men two streets away.

Fuck.

- Hide everything he doesn't know about, tell men to scram and not to engage - your decision is almost instant, leader skills coming to the forefront. - Bring him straight to my office, I'll deal with him myself... And don't look nervous, we did nothing wrong. 

That's a fat fucking lie, you did several things wrong, starting with stealing from the damned man.

The boy nods and bolts out of the room, his high-pitched voice carrying through the corridors. Downstairs, you can hear your men run around, sounds of crates dragging on the floor make you wince. Solomon looks at you with a typical "I told you so" expression.

- It's all your fault, by the way - you stand in front of your desk with your hands crossed in front of your chest.

- My fault? How exactly is this my fault?

- Yeah, you spoke of the Devil.

The next ten minutes are filled with silent tension. You sit down behind your desk, hand subconsciously close to the treasure drawer, the other one supporting your chin. You look harmless enough, with tired eyes and disheveled hair. Hunched figure hanging over a bunch of papers. Old shipments you've dug out of some boxes. 

Flour, eggs, clean water. Innocent enough.

Your heart starts jumping in rythmn as the sound of boots clicking on the floorboards fills the office. At this point you're able to recognize him by his footsteps alone. A confident walk of a man secure in his power. Before he enters, you manage to take one, calming breath, exhaling it in time with the creaking of the door to your office. 

It's silent for a moment too long, and slowly, you drag your eyes up from the papers.

He's angry. You can tell by the evil glint in his dark eye, a terrifying image, but one you've seen quite often back in the day. You can deal with angry. Like always.

- Silco - your voice carries a steady, calm tune - What brings you here?

He's looking at you from above, somehow seeming even taller than you remember. Can men his age even grow? Probably not, must be the light. Or your nerves, which are currently wracking you from the inside. 

- Don't play coy with me - he seethes through his slightly crooked teeth, something that makes him look even more intimidating, if it's possible.

You open your mouth to shoot something clever his way, but the thoughts dies down as quickly as it arrives.

- I said don't - there is a bark to his voice you didn't expect.

One of his eyebrows twitches slightly, and finally it downs on you.

He's not just angry, he's beyond furious.

You've dealt with furious significantly less than angry. 

- Silco - you try with a gentler voice - It's nothing, you know it's nothing.

Wrong move. His evil eye gleams in the darkened room, a snarl settling on his lips as he takes two long steps towards your desk, nearly colliding with it. The pace at which he came at you makes you instantly recline back in your chair. 

- It's not fucking nothing - his slim figure leans over the desk, sharp fingers dragging over the mahogany wood - We've lost a whole shipment yesterday, three weeks of work went to shit.

His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper and it makes the hair at the back of your neck stand right up. He's close, you can feel anger coming off of him in waves, invading your space in an intimidating aura. For such a lean person, he can be surprisingly nightmarish. 

- I will not loose my product again, not one barrel.

- You won't exactly loose it - against all reason, the words leave your mouth, stunning him into silence - To loose something, you must be oblivious as to where it is. And you'll know where your one barrel...

The word "barrel" doesn't even fully leave your lips, before Silco collides his fist with the desk. You yelp, jumping in your chair. Your hands come up on instinct to shield yourself from... Well, from whatever is going to happen. 

He has turned around, a frustrated groan leaving him, as he pushes stray strands of hair from his forehead. You can see the muscles of his back move.

- I should kill you for it - he sighs finally, after a tense moment of silence.

- You won't - your voice sounds confident, but your right hand comes down to the dagger at your thigh, fingers skimming the handle, just in case. 

Finally he turns to face you, and you recognize his expression immediately. He's tired. Exhausted in the same way you are. Suddey all of his threats, and all of your jokes fall short, because ultimately, this is who you both are. Just a couple of really tired people.

- Give me the documents, so I don't have to kill anyone this evening - his voice sounds almost pleading, almost like he truly doesn't want to hurt people.

You know better though. There is no compassion here, he's just tired, and corpses tend to create problems. 

- It's just one barrel Silco - slowly, you push yourself from the chair, standing on slightly wobbly legs - One for two months, three if we're careful. It's good business.

He hums low in his throat, the good eye trailing over your face, neck, your hands. He looks less like a creature from your darkest nightmares, and more like a human man. A small victory on your part.

- Good business, that costs me - he counters, watches closely, as you slide to the front of your desk.

- I beg to differ - there is a cautious smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

Not enough to irk him, but enough to make his eyebrows raise.

- If anything, I'm creating more customers for you. They buy my goods, and get addicted to yours. And round, and round it goes...

To that, he tenses, a careful expression tugging at his features. You know he's thinking over what you've said, by the way his eyebrows scrunch together, amd his scarred lips form a single, tight line. 

- One barrel, three moths, half the price - he says after a moment, a note of finality entering his tone. 

Years have taught you, when to stop pushing, and so, you nod. Then, with all the grace you can muster from your exhausted body, you go back behind the desk, and take out the scroll.

Instead of taking it to him, you place it delicately on the desk, sliding it slowly towards the edge. He gives you an annoyed look and with a single step towards you, grabs the paper. 

- Expect a cdelivery, should be here by the end of the month. Have the money ready by then - he concludes, voice quiet and reserved, just like everything about him. 

With that he turns to leave, securing the scroll in the pocket on the inside of his jacket.

- I've had many pains in my ass, but you, Y/N, are something completely different. - he mutters, as his steps carry him towards the door.

You look over the papers on your desk, eyes focusing on anything other than his back. 

- That's why you love me.

Silence falls over the room like a thick blanket. Your heart stops in your chest and nearly jumps to your throat, as you realize, he isn't leaving, you can't hear any footsteps. It takes all of your strength not to look up from the papers. You have a feeling, that if you did, you'd be dead in a second.

Too much, you always say too much, and then you're fucked.

All you can hear is the deafening sound of your heart thrumming inside your chest. You can feel it, beating against your ribs. The whole situation is making you dizzy. Still, you refuse to look up, cursing yourself for speaking, cursing him for saying nothing.

- Come back to the Last Drop with me.

It takes your breath right out of your lungs. The way his silent voice carries through the room, slicing the tension. When was the last time you've heard him say something so delicate, so pleading? Then again, maybe it was just a dream, a small hallucination, caused by the ever present toxic fumes. You have to know, if you've heard him correctly, so you look up.

He's back is turned to you, slightly hunched. There is tension in his muscles and you can see his right hand clutch at the scroll he's just recovered.

- What? - you ask cautiously, there is no point in denying his effect on you, not anymore.

- I said - his evil eye finds you in the darkened room, shivers running up your back as it stares at you unblinking - Come back to the Last Drop with me.

His lips do in fact move in rythmn with the words, so he must've really said that. Your gut churns, twisting inside. Because you want to, despite the threats and the violence, and all the sins this man has committed, you want to take him up on his offer. 

But, you're people need you here, they need to see how strong their leader truly is. If they saw you leave with Silco, it would shatter any semblance of respect they've gathered for you. And so, you shake your head, look down at the papers to escape his burning gaze. He can see your internal conflict clear as day, in the way your brows crease, in your clenched jaw.

- You know I can't - of course he does, that doesn't stop him however from crossing the room right back to your desk.

- Or I can just take you - he muses, one lanky finger tapping at the wooden surface, so close to your hand, you can almost feel the heat.

It's so much harder to control your breathing, when he's nearing you. And despite the desk being right here, he doesn't stop, sliding next to the edge. 

- Make them think this is your punishment - the offending finger slowly starts to drag from your wrist up your arm, your stance waivers - To run errands for the awful, terrible, merciless Silco.

His hand squeezes your biceps gently, before sliding further up. You follow his silhouette, until he escapes your peripheral vision, settling behind you. The other hand comes to rest against your hip, tugging gently at the fabric of your pants. 

- Silco... - you don't exactly know what to say, and you instinctively try to turn around, to face him.

He doesn't let you, however, thin arms encircling you whole, as he presses against you, lithe body resting entirely on your back. His chin finds purchase at the juncture of your neck, where you feel his nose trace up, towards your ear.

Silco inhales a long breath, his hold tightening even more.

- I want you there, at the Last Drop, with me - the words are breathed into your neck like a prayer, the tingling sensation is making you sway in your place.

- No you don't - you manage to choke out, when you feel his thin lips press against your pulse.

- Oh? - one hand leaves your hips and goes straight to your hair, grabbing a fistful, and craining your neck back.

Finally, you're able to move, arm coming up, to touch his scarred side of the face, fingers skimming over the abused flesh. His evil eye stares at you, fire swirling inside, but the good one, the beautiful green one, flutters closed for just a moment.

- When did you become an expert on what I want? - he asks through gritted teeth, voice sharp, in contrast with his serene expression.

You try to turn again, and this time, he lets you. 

- You need me here - your voice is quiet, yet reasonable, the way you know will work on him - Someone needs to control these people, and God knows, they don't trust you, not after everything that's happened. 

His lips curl into a snarl, not a threatening one, you'd recognize that one everywhere. This one is different, like something is hurting him from deep inside, and for a second you can't help but wonder. Does he regret his decisions, all that's happened with Vander years ago.

- I want you near me - it's childish, you both know it, an impossible plea.

- You have me.

That's all he needs, this single admition, and his hand comes up to your face, palm sliding over your cheek and finding purchase in your hair. The other, grabs at your hip, kneeding the flesh, dragging you closer. And finally, finally he kisses you.

There is no gentleness, all tongue and teeth, devouring you like a man starved, and in a way, he is. The desk is digging into your thighs, as he presses closer, and closer still, like he wants you to envelop him whole. Which, given his slim figure, is not something out of the realm of possibility. 

- Please - you gasp, when you both finally part for air.

You don't know for what you're asking, but you're asking for it all the same, fingers tugging at the stiff fabric of his waistcoat. 

Silco looks over your disheveled state, taking in the mess of hair, the swollen lips and the glossy eyes. His teeth worry his bottom lip, and it's as close as you'll ever get to a flustered reaction.

- My girl - he whispers under his breath, and that little phrase goes straight to your core.

All you can do is nod, too stunned to speak. He, in turn, dives back in, aiming for your neck. The hand on your hip dips lower, under your thigh, a silent command, which you obey without question. You're shuffling backwards onto the desk, free hand throwing the documents off the surface. They spill around you, shipments from months ago, a ruse you've already forgotten. Because now, he's biting down on the place your neck meets your shoulder, the mixture of pain and pleasure makes you whimper. 

Hands tug against your shirt, the dirty cotton giving way. You can hear the fabric tearing around your neckline, and immediately you throw your hands up. God knows, you can't afford a new one. Silco doesn't waste time, immediately ducking down to suck a hickey right in the middle of your collar bones. He was never one to give jewelery, and this ornament looks better than any necklace, in his humble opinion. You can feel him, hard and ready on the inside of your thigh, the fabric of his pants scratching your skin. 

- And who's the pain in the ass now? - your smile is sharp, when he looks up at you, abandoning the abused flesh.

You can see his eyebrows scrunching, and a deep panic settles into your bones. It wouldn't be the first time, when he leaves you hot and wanting, simply because you've said something that irked him. He was not a man to triffle with, yet, you simply couldn't stop. That being said, it's been a long time, for the both of you, so when you first see the dreaded crease between his eyebrows, you act immediately. Both hands shoot out, towards his belt, and before he has a chance to withdraw, you hook your fingers into the loops of his trousers, dragging him back to you, closer than ever. 

- Your girl - you remind him in a breathy voice, and by the way his evil eye glints, you know, you have his complete attention. 

A new spark fills him, and with strength not expected from a man of his stature, he makes quick work of your pants, pushing your hands away when you try to help him. Your hips fall on the desk, as he tugs your clothing from your legs, the furniture shifts slightly across the floor from the force of his actions. You knew it was a long time, but your had no idea it was that long. Or maybe he just really missed you. Wishfull thinking.

Your breath catches in your throat, as a familiar sound of a belt buckle getting undone fills the room. Silco doesn't like to be seen naked, a habit you've grown well accustomed to. Which is why you nearly jump from your place at the desk, when he quikly unbuttons his waistcoat. First three buttons of his shirt come flying open as well, exposing portruding collarbones and a lean chest. Shit, he's pretty, despite the scars, and bruises, and time. 

It's honestly, quite embarrasing, how easily he sinks into you. One push is all he needs to be completely seethed, one push to arch your back righ off the desk. He doesn't comment on it, a small blessing. But then again, he doesn't really say much during the act, he's not a vocal man. 

Or so you thought.

Because as soon, as he starts moving, a harsh, snapping motions that make you jump on the desk, you swear you can hear something amongst the creaking of furniture. It's a small sound, like a grunt of pain, but you know better. And as soon, as it happens, his grip on you tightens to an impossible degree, bony fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, as if trying to rip it apart. There will be bruises in the morning, but this is a problem for the future you. The current you is slowly starting to loose yourself in the rythmn, the cruel pace that leaves you breatheless at his mercy. Silco drags you closer, when you start to shift away on the desk, the wooden surface scratching your back. 

- Shit, Silco... fuck - the words you spit out are nonsensical, punctuated by sharp thrusts.

One hand detatches itself from your abused hips, finding your clit in a matter of seconds, and immediately starting to circle it with a force that borders on painful. Borders, being the key word, and as soon as the ministrations start, you throw your head back. All you can do it scrunch up your face and bite down on your bottom lip, to stiffle the broken moans threatening to spill. Soon, you're coming, hard and messily, legs shaking on both sides of his unrelenting hips. Tears prick your eyes, the sensation quickly becoming too much to bear. 

As if on que, his rythmn staggers, first low moan spills from his lips, and you try to rise on your elbows, to catch it in your lips, like smoke. He helps you, one arm coming behind your back and dragging you up, until you hang on his lithe frame. He's breathing hard against your neck, fingers finding purchase wherever they can. Finally, when you think you can't take anymore, he stops, burried deep inside you. You can feel him shuddering against you, and he comes with a strangled moan, one that's too broken, too intimate. 

Both of you stay motionless for a long while, catching your breath against eachother. Your fingers comb absentmindedly through his short hair, slicking it back to place, scratching his skull. He answers with gentle pressure at the back of your neck, the tension in your shoulders coming undone under his palm. You don't want him to leave, nearly reach out for him, when he finally detangles himself from you. But yet again, old habits die hard, and you fall back down onto the desk with a thud, letting the pain in your bones consume you. 

You half expect to hear the door open, after you note absentmindedly, that he has fixed his clothes. What you don't expect, is gentle touches cleaning you up, helping you straighten your legs. You don't expect him to wrap an arm around you and help you get off the desk. And most certainly you don't expect the kisses. On your forehead, nose, cheeks. On the crown of your head. Alas, he does all that and more, as he places you on a sofa, in the corner of the room.

- The Last Drop - he whispers against your temple, crouching next to you - Think about it.

And then he's gone. His knees crack, when he stands up, bony hand leaving your grasp. You allow yourself to close your eyes for just a moment, before springing to action.

There are people here, your people. And you have to look presentable, before one of them, inevitably barges in, so terrified for your safety. 

#silco x reader #arcane x reader #league of legends x reader #silco smut #my writing

[queer-coded-tourney]

ROUND 1 BATTLE 6

vote for the character you think is most queercoded, if you dont know either character check the propaganda!

PROPAGANDA

Spock - Spock and by extension Kirk have been pillars of gay shipping since star trek aired in the 50's .despite no canonical confirmation of being gay they have a very intimate bond that's easy to see as gay.

Cole - There's literally an entire episode where if you replaced the word "ninja" with "gay" it would be about him accepting himself and coming out and trying to get others to accept him. Also he said hes scared of women. He really likes cake!

#go cole #i used to go by cole actually #spock #star trek #cole ninjago #ninjago

[oblonger]

Chapter five of TPiaG: Body Swap AU

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@sincerely-sofie I wrote this and then while thinking of ways to improve it, I ended up writing the entire next chapter lol. It should be here soon enough!

Kip and 'Twig' make a withdrawl

Kip and Darkrai approached Duskull's bank. A thick tension hung in the air, no doubt aided by Twig's presence so close to the town.

"Well! It's been quite a while hasn't it Twig! How was your trip?"

Darkrai grumbled a bit as Kip spoke.

"She did good! She just has a sore throat right now, so she can't really talk right now." Kip gave a nervous chuckle.

Duskull tilted his head. "I thought she just had a cold?"

Kip grumbled. "I wouldn't trust anything Skuntank says, Duskull. He isn't exactly the most... attentive listener."

Duskull nodded. "Fair enough. I've had to deal with them far too much..."

Kip chuckled. Genuine this time. "Even dealing with them once is too much."

Darkrai raised an eyebrow at him.

Duskull chuckled. "I'm inclined to agree. Now, what can I do for you?"

Kip asked how much Twig has in her savings, Duskull took a moment to check before his 'eyes' went wide.

"You have a little over three and a half million in savings Twig! I don't think I've seen quite that much money before..."

Darkrai forced a grin that seemed to make Duskull a bit uncomfortable. Kip spoke up before he could say anything.

"Great! We'll take out two million if you dont mind. In separate, quarter million checks please."

Duskull tilted his head. "... I can do that..." He responded as he began writing down on small slips of yellowed paper the money and account.

A few minutes of silence passed as Duskull went about the necessary steps. The noises of writing on paper and the bustling treasure Town being the only things that they could hear.

Duskull handed the checks to Kip. "It will take about a day for these checks to be usuable. Why do you want them as checks instead of coins though? They aren't that heavy..."

"Thank you for your help Duskull!" Kip stated, his rehearsed words not even acknowledging Duskull's question. "We have to get home now. See you around!"

Duskull looked at Kip and Darkrai with concern, and hopefully not suspicion, as the two made the treck back to Sharpedo Bluff. The atmosphere slowly growing heavier with each step.

Darkrai spoke once out of earshot of the other residents. His voice coming from Twig's body still makes him jump a little.

"Who is this Skuntank I keep hearing of?"

Kip rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Oh he's the worst. He's such an-"

"Well hey there dip!" Kip heard called out from in front of him.

Oh COME ON!

Skuntank sauntered over from the stairs leading into Sharpedo Bluff.

"I tried looking for you and your mom everywhere but I couldnt find you!"

Kip hated his guts. He so badly wanted to water gun this dope in the face...

WAIT, HE WAS IN THERE!?!?!?

"Why were you in my home!?" Kip snapped

Skuntank rolled his eyes. "I just told you, dummy. I was looking for you everywhere! Nobody told me I couldn't go in anyways!"

Kip noticed the expression of hatred Darkrai was watching Skuntank with. Slowly picking him apart with his eyes.

"Speaking of!" Skuntank continued "It's good to see you again big! How have you been!"

Oh thank goodness, he didn't find Twig.

Kip grit his teeth. "She has a sore throat Skuntank. And I doubt she would want to talk to you. Even if she did feel good."

"Ehh!? Why's that? I've only ever been pals with ya! Cmon' swig, we're friends arent we?"

Darkrai narrowed his eyes and slowly shook his head, glaring at Skuntank.

"Chaw haw haw!" Skuntank's obnoxious laugh released from his face. "You've always had such a sense of humor wig!"

Kip was absolutely done with dealing with him. "Get off my property Skuntank. Or I'll tell Wigglytuff."

Skuntank flinched a bit and gave a nervous chuckle. "Aww! But we're friends! You wouldn't be a tattle tail would you?"

"Off." Kip growled.

Skuntank furrowed his brows. "Tsk, Well! My offer for dinner at Spinda's is still open if you decide you don't want to be a spoil sport!" He said, at which point he sauntered past them towards town. Kip and Darkrai glaring at him his whole journey.

Darkrai eventually broke the silence.

"I lothe him nearly as much as I lothe you."

Kip looked at him like he'd grown a second head before breaking out into giggling, an action that Darkrai sneered at.

"Sorry, heh. I just." Kip sighed. "Yeah. He's awful."

Kip smiled at Darkrai, his expression remained the same.

At least, Kip thinks he didn't see the corners of his mouth resist smiling just a bit.

The two entered into Kip's home.

His heart started racing when he felt Twig's presence, but couldn't see her. Kip called out her name.

Suddenly, the shadows on the wall shifted and Twig emerged out of them, her eyes wide with exasperation

"aaaaAAAAAH! I heard Skuntank calling my name and I knew that I couldn't let him see me and I panicked and I somehow like, fell into the shadows and oh my WORD that was the WEIRDEST feeling you have no idea!" Twig quickly chattered.

Kip gave a relieved sigh and laughed.

"I'm just glad you're safe."

Twig smiled at him... well, more closely closed her eyes in crescent shapes. It was sometimes hard to tell with the lack of a mouth.

~~~

Twig offered to make dinner tonight. Confident in how used she was getting used to that body. She still ended up smashing the spatula against the pan a few times, and accidentally tossing it across the room once, but not as often as when she tried last time. He was glad she's getting better. It gave him time to figure out which house to buy.

Soon before dinner, Kip finished putting everything in it's respective envelopes and fell onto his back. Sighing in relief.

"Tomorrow I send the letter, and the night after that, we'll never have to deal with Skuntank and hopefully keeping you secret again."

Twig hummed as she set the food in front of him and Darkrai. "Oh yeah, I could hear Skuntank talking to you guys. Just, why can't that idiot just mind his own business?"

Kip gave a dramatic sigh. "Perhaps we may never know why he's such a jerk. And hopefully, we won't."

Darkrai took a bite of his food, clearly enjoying it. "It would be well with me if I never had to see that lothesome individual again."

Twig gave a hearty chuckle as she sat down. "Yeah, what is it you've said before? 'The feeling is mutual'?"

Twig and Kip chuckled as Darkrai glared at his food, like it had spit in his face or something.

Silence fell as the only noise was silverware against dishes.

"So, when we move. What's the plan after that?" Twig asked.

Kip swallowed his last bite and huffed. "We figure out a schedule of what to do every day, and pray nobody here digs too deep into our disappearance."

Twig furrowed her brow at him. "Are you... Are you holding up Kip? This is your home..."

Kip stared at his empty plate. "... I'm fine. I'm just glad we'll finally be able to move on."

He wasn't fine...

But life did move on.

Kip's plan of buying the house and leaving in the night worked without a hitch. Nobody even knew they left. Nor would they suspect that they had until they've been gone a few days. It eased Kip's biggest anxieties when the post office worker and ferryman both accepted some money to keep them from talking. As suspicious as that made him look to them.

They moved into a large, vacant home, bought furniture in town, without fear of the truth being discovered, became friends with the Gardevoir next door. And team Venture set up a routine of what to do each day. Taking jobs to keep themselves occupied. And leaving Darkrai at home for him to... Do whatever it was he does.

Everything was finally back on track. Kip's plan didn't screw everything up.

Life was going on.

...

#Huh! that last line seems familiar! I sure hope there isnt a second part to it! #text post #pmd eos #fanfic of a fanfic #the present is a gift au #writing #pmd #fanfic #body swap au #pmd2 #i hope Duskull's lines are accurate to how he is in the game #i couldnt for the life of me find any archive or dialog list for him

[van-iira]

Greetings, Winner! You may notice that your timer is rather... extravagant, so to speak. This is merely a display of our respect for you, and doesn't do anything to help or hinder you in any way. We do, however, recognise that it is rather large and imposing and have allowed you to control its presentation to a degree.

We hope you like it!

The Administrators.

—

Grian sighed as he read the floating message in front of him. No one had told him anything about something like this. He glanced around for a body of water to get a better look at whatever it was that kept peeking into his peripheral.

—

Scott blinked in surprise, then blinked a bit more as he became aware of the motes of light floating around his head. Huh… he was used to the usual crystals, but these were new. He rushed off to find a way to look at them better.

—

Pearl stared at the purple letters in confusion. Who? She'd never heard of any administra– ah, would that be those people from Grian's explanation between games? That'd make sense. With those thoughts circling her brain, Pearl looked for a way to see her reflection.

—

They were right, Grian thought. The 'timer' was very extravagant. A large sun, presently green, floated behind his head, streaks of light shooting off in the cardinal directions – almost like imitating a compass. As he twisted and turned to get a better look, Grian spotted the bottom of the 'sun' and noted a sliver of darkness. It was tiny, barely worth nothing, but the fact that it was there at all was rather telling.

A sunset, huh? How fitting.

—

Scott watched himself grin a little as he got a good look at himself. Stars, more obvious than ever before, floated about his temples. Smaller constellations dotted the air around his face, not quite blocking it but not keeping it completely clear either. They were all green he noticed – his 'timer' seemed to match the life signifiers from the other games, then. Well, it was definitely the prettiest of them.

—

Pearl looked in awe at the light behind her head. Five sets of moons, four of which being crescents, that acted almost like a halo behind her. They were green, obviously indicating her life, but that didn't take away from the… radiance of them. She moved her head around wildly for a bit and found that they stayed firmly behind her no matter what. So interesting.

—

'It almost looks like a crown', they thought.

—

With a frown Grian swiped at the air with his hand, and the sun disappeared in a shimmer of light. That thing would draw so much attention, and he just didn't want to deal with that. Thing was… he doubted it would go away entirely, so he glanced back down at the water and spotted something at his neck. …A tattoo, maybe? He traced it with his finger and it seemed to have the same sun-like shape he'd just dismissed – it was also green, rapidly proving his suspicions. …And though thinner, it also had the same sliver of darkness at the bottom. Well. It was better than nothing, he guessed, and Grian stalked off.

—

Scott recalled the message from the 'Administrators' and paused. He could get rid of this, apparently, make it less grand. That did sound helpful, he was very shiny at the moment, and walking around like a particularly green beacon likely wouldn't do him any favours.

But. He normally looked like this, right? He always had things floating around his head, there were just a few more. That may raise questions, but nothing too substantial. After a moment of thinking over it, Scott became sure in his decision, and continued on his treck away from spawn; he'd already lost ground with this detour.

—

Pearl reached back to one of the thinner crescents, but stopped. This was… really suspicious, wasn't it? She'd already drawn attention last time with '5am Pearl' or whatever they'd called it. Having a massive beacon behind her definitely wasn't going to do her any favours, no matter how pretty it was. She shouted a few variations of 'go away!' for a bit before realising that a swift move of her arm was all she needed, and they were gone. She mourned the moons' disappearance for a moment, but as she stared at her reflection, she spotted something new at her neck. Five moons, four of which being crescents. She guessed that's what they meant by 'to a degree', there was no way she could fully hide her life indicator. Satisfied with her newfound knowledge, Pearl wandered off into the woods.

—

'How weird' they thought, with varying levels of wonder.

#limited life #limited life smp #trafficblr #traffic life #3rd life smp #last life smp #double life smp #what with their winners being present #grian #smajor1995 #dangthatsalongname #pearlescentmoon #the winners get to be special #given that they #y'know #don't really win anything otherwise #sun! stars! moon! #really wondering how we're gonna fit in the fourth winner

[idiotwithanipad]

A part 2 to the Angst/Fluff cause I didn't want it to end sad tbh✿

(TW: Fist fights, blood, childbirth, Incestuous relationship mentioned (I'm so sorry but that's just the canon, I'm sorry🫥 confirmed in s2Xe4 and s3Xe5)

Shul crawled back into the dug out chalk pit beneath the cliff he and his younger brother, Rogh, had been taking shelter in. The new home for their far away tribe. The night had been long, sorrowful. Rogh hadn't slept even for a minute, his hours were spent stoking the fire, fiddling with the wolf fur at his wrist, shuffling back and forth against the wall where he sat. He stared for hours at the entrance to the cave, pondering. Wondering what had became of his mate after he bid her farewell to go on this long voyage.

Shul squated down by the fire and dropped some snow onto the flames to extinguish them. The sharp hissing shook Rogh from his own head and he glanced up at Shul who gripped his spear and flug his leather satchel over his shoulder. Shul faced Rogh and held out the other spear.

"We leave now, find tribe and bring back here. They be home then". Shul seemed to have gained some urgency after last night; Rogh's concerns for their sister had ignited a nagging fear deep within his own heart too.

Rogh nodded and got to his feet, taking the spear from Shul's hand and gripping it in his own.

"Me walk ahead, you step in my tracks behind, then we no be followed by rival tribe. They think there only one and not come searching for fight". There was a deep rumble under Rogh's grunts and growls as he and his brother communicated in their native way.

Shul agreed with a nod, and the two men climbed through the entrance one after the other and out onto the vast expanse of deep, white snow, undisturbed by any man or creature. Rogh scanned the white surroundings and sniffed the frosty air for a moment before looking back over his shoulder at his older brother.

"Okay. It clear, we go" Rogh growled, as he took one drawn out step forward, the snow and ice beneath his wolf skin boot crunched and grinded as Shul waited for the opportunity that Rogh's boot print was exposed, allowing Shul to start behind him.

Rogh's plan went accordingly; Shul silently tracked behind, literally following in his little brother's swift footsteps for a change. A deep rooted determination seemed to drag Rogh through the hills and valleys, back towards the place where they had to leave their tribe. His nostrils flaring and his cheeks hollowing with each breath he took, his eyes focused on an invisible target and his brow arched and heavy.

Shul, at multiple points in their long treck, almost thought of begging Rogh to slow down; his mammoth skin boots soaking in the snow and his feet feeling like they'd shatter like thin ice if he hit them against a hidden rock. Rogh didn't slow down, thick snow and blistering wind pelted the men, and it didn't slow him down. He reached up every ten seconds, or so, to wipe the fresh, swiftly gathering snowflakes from his lashes, but he stared straight ahead through the mountains and trees.

"Rogh! Stop, now! It big cold! Sky big angry! We walk for whole two day with no stop! We find shelter, Rogh, now!" Shul reached his icy hand forward and gripped Rogh's shoulder, a thin layer of crusty snow matted into the once pristine furs. Rogh disregarded Shul's grunts and barks and kept moving forward, yanking his shoulder out of Shul's grip. Shul let out a yowl of fury and grabbed Rogh's spear, yanking it from his younger brother's hand.

"AY! Give back!" Rogh barked, spinning around to find the spear. Shul disregarded Rogh's demand and sheathed the spear down the back of his freezing furs. Rogh's jaw protruded forward and he let out an angry puff of hot air from deep within his chest.

"We make walk longer before! We do again! Riva been waiting for new home too long! Rest of tribe could be with Moonah, we no know! Need KEEP walk!" Rogh's anger boiled and spilled over at Shul's utter disregard for their innocent tribe left to suffer in the cold.

"You just want get back to puddle water, that all you think 'bout!" Shul spat, he practically curled his lip at Rogh who now turned a blind eye to the 'step in my tracks' plan. The crazed and delirious brothers began circling each other like caged animals, daring each other to make a move.

"You stay here if want! Go back and wait in new cave! Me go on! Get Riva and tribe back safe! Riva and baby deserves safe! Riva-!" Rogh almost finished his sentence, when he heard something from Shul that he never wanted to hear, and something he never thought he WOULD hear.

"RIVA NOT JUST YOUR SISTER!"

Rogh lunged at Shul, gripping his throat and tackling him down into the deep snow. His hands, pumping with fury and adrenaline, gripped at whatever they could latch onto. Shul's hands came up to rip at Rogh's wrists, but he was too cold and slow to avoid each stinging blow, each bone crunching punch that connected his bearded jaw with Rogh's fists.

The wind swirled and howled around them like an eyewitness begging them to fight harder, to fight for longer. Rogh roared and screamed at Shul, pounding his fists down into his stomach and chest. Shul kicked and clawed, he'd managed to grip Rogh's furs and throw him down into the snow a few times and attack, but that only seemed to add more flames to Rogh's fire.

Rogh was back on top of Shul, his teeth threatening to bite off his brother's ear if he clamped his iron jaw down any harder. Shul, in a tornado of fury, reached down to his leg and retrieved what he should've used minutes ago. A knife, crudely fashioned out of a Smilodon's tooth. He let out a furious roar and slashed at Rogh with the speed of Moonah's light.

Rogh yelped and fell back away from Shul, pushing himself back through the deep snow till it practically spilled over his shoulders and down his heaving chest. Shul rose back to his feet, rubbing his bloodied ear with his free hand, panting and staring his little brother down, daring him to get back up. Only for his demeanor to drastically change once he'd realised what he'd just done.

Rogh felt no pain, no cut, no blood, save for his nose and brow. His eyes flicked down to his left arm, where his furs should've been. What was left of them where tatters, the torn fur and loose hanging skin from the wolf it came from. He lifted his arm to inspect the damage to his furs. The pieces hung limp and lifeless at his side, and a breath got caught in his throat as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down like an empty egg shell in the river.

No. Shul wouldn't do that, would he? He couldn't. That's not how they were raised. Their father taught them that if two brothers had a disagreement, they'd settle it with fists and teeth, not knife and spear.

Rogh's face, empty of the previous rage he felt, looked back up at Shul who inched his way closer, the knife loosely clutched in his blue, trembling hand.

"Rogh?... Me not mean- me not- not make think good-" Shul didn't have the words, nor the ability to explain how sincerely disgraced and disgusted he felt with himself.

"You not mean for knife?... "Rogh finished, wiping his bloodied nose against his fur cuff.

"Not mean for knife, Shul just angry and tired. And cold. And really want palm full of puddle water... " Shul huffed, shoving the knife back down into his boot.

He lent out a icy hand towards his little brother, gathered in the snow and getting wetter and colder by the second. Rogh took his hand and heaved himself up with a pained groan.

"We both have palm full of puddle water. Once tribe home safe... " Rogh didn't smile, nor did he pat Shul on the shoulder as usual after settling a disagreement. His eyes remained empty and his jaw set like a steel cage. He turned on his heel and continued on through the snow and wind, quickly disappearing into the distance.

The tribe were home now, at their new home. The children already surrounding the fire and sleeping beneath their blankets of furs. The elders giving praise to Shul and Rogh for such a find; this had been an upgrade from their old cave, this one had a smaller entrance so no lions or bears could enter and pick anyone off like before. Completely hidden from rival tribes and out of sight, it was the safest place to raise their children.

Rogh sat beside Riva, who's condition had worsened. She could barely hold her head up to look at him. Two elders in the tribe sat opposite them, partially hidden behind the 'adult' fire in the cave. Their sullen faces stared at the woman in concern and deep pity; to lose her life so young in such a way, it wasn't uncommon, but they'd prepared for the worst and hoped for the best.

Every now and then, she'd drop off into slumber, her head thumping against Rogh's arm as he searched for all the signs that she was still alive. His eyes set onto the flames, in a daze from the previous days events; the treck it took to find this place, the fear of not knowing if they'd see their tribe again, and never knowing if their sister had already had the baby, or if she survived the birth.

A long time passed. Almost everyone in the tribe had fallen asleep amongst each other. The fire had died down to a comfortable crackling ember mound, and Rogh could feel his eyelids grow heavier and his eyeballs get dryer, as though someone had just rubbed dirt into them. A scream echoed through their new cave. Men, women and children roused at the noise and huddled together for safety.

Rogh bolted back to reality and looked to his sister who writhed and squirmed against the earthy floor. Her hands gripped her stomach, which at this point, Rogh was surprised hadn't burst. Rogh began to go into a frenzy, alerting the elder woman of the tribe who had delivered many babies, even himself, and his parents.

The elder woman's wrinkled eyes widened and her slightly bristled chin dropped as she shuffled her way closer to the screaming woman. A patch of fresh liquid surrounded Riva, and the elder knew exactly what was going on. She turned to Rogh with an eerily calm expression.

"It time"

It was a drawn out time. Even the snow outside seemed to have fallen in slow motion. The other mothers in the tribe huddling their own children away from Riva and turned their heads away so that they wouldn't see. Rogh was given the task of holding up a blanket of mammoth pelt to use as a curtain, obscuring Riva and the older woman behind it so that they could have privacy. He looked over his shoulder at them every few second's to see if they had made any progress, expecting the worse but hoping for the best.

The birth took a shorter amount of time than Rogh would've thought, given how big his sister's stomach had gotten. Rogh grit his teeth and bolted his eyes shut when his sister's final blood freezing scream vibrated through the cave. Silence followed. A frightening silence; Rogh had actually feared he'd gone deaf. He risked a look over his shoulder, and once he did a double take and realised what he saw behind him, he absentmindedly let his arms drop down still holding the pelt.

The elder woman rose from her knees, it took her much effort but she managed just fine with the aid of her spear. Her stone face remained as solid as always, but a soft twinkle shone in her eyes as she approached Rogh.

"Girl is born. She breaths. She have two arm and two leg. She healthy. Keep her warm and she survive".

Rogh's eyes shifted from the elder woman to his still alive sister, her face red and soaked with sweat. She gazed down at a bundle of pelts in her arms, huffing softly and wiping gently at the pelt's contents. Her eyes lifted momentarily and her hand beckoned Rogh forward.

"Come meet daughter~"

#bbc ghosts #robin the caveman #larry rickard #fuckin' ay man😳

[razcina]

i’ll be there // Ch.2

sam carpenter x fem!reader - masterlist

i’ll be there Ch.1 !!

Samantha Carpenter struggles with her new life in NYC, not having much of a purpose other than to be the protector of her friends and family, and to attend therapy for feeling like an absolute psychopath and having the whole word view her as such. With all of her vices, will Sam be able to open her heart and let someone in?

wordcount: 1500

!! not proof-read, will edit. english isnt my first language haha

“Dont..”

You internally jumped when you felt Sam grab your hand and tilting your chin up to meet her deep brown eyes.

“w-what-“

you stuttered.

“Dont go.. please”

Sams mouth was moving faster than her mind could keep up.

“I-I uh- want to know you too..”

Your eyes dart around the room anxiously

“Please.. you.. Ive never..”

She glances back over at Tara and Mindy, who are cutting loose and probably drunk.

“I’ll come with you.. or walk you home? they uh.. theyll be fine f-for a moment-“

Sams expression falls as you back away, feigning a smile while you were clearly on the verge of breaking down.

“I um.. I can’t, i sh-shouldn’t, Im sorry..”

“But why? ..Dont shut me out now..”

Sam reaches for you but you pull away, stumbling back

“I-im not.. this was a mistake-“

“..What?”

Sam looks heartbroken as she watches you turn away

“yn..”

You can’t stop the tears as you bolt, quickly pushing through the door into the small yard out back. The cool air feels nice on your clammy skin, relieving the tension you felt. With your head down, you treck across the grass until you bump into a large cherry-blossom tree. Its an odd season to be blooming, but you werent complaining.

Cherry blossoms had always been.. her.. favorite.

Sighing, you carefully slide down the trunk until youre sitting in the small pile of petals at the base of the tree. Your panic begins to settle down as you catch your breath, thinking over what had just happened.

That was her.. that was Samantha Loomis..

She was very different from what you had envisioned. She seemed troubled, but kind and protective. The way she was looking out for her sister and her friends tugged at your heartstrings.

You sigh softly as you pull out the small heart locket you’ve worn religiously around your neck ever since that day.

You can’t believe you actually introduced yourself to her...

She was the one responsible for shooting her.. your late girlfriend, Amber Freeman.

You were terrified of how she had made you feel.. here you were feeling flustered? and borderline flirting? It had to be the alcohol..

Sighing you rub your temples as you as you rub the charmed necklace between your fingers.

Amber was perfect to you, affectionate, protective, one hell of a tongue, in both whispering sweet nothings into your ears in the mornings and in the evenings, well, she oh so passionately made you the sweet nothing.

Yes.. absolutely perfect.. until she was groomed into psychopathy by a 30year redditor with a knife kink to recreate some dumb movie he was obsessed with, all in exchange for the false promise of fame, security. He used your name to blackmail her, saying he would kill you if she didnt help him, threatening to harm you and make you the “opening kill”.

You felt the tears stinging, how could she have been so naive to fall for that.. and why hadnt she told you until it was too late? Not just that, everyone in Woodsburo sneers Ambers name. You couldn’t talk about her to anyone who even knew of the muders, much less explain the truth.. You clutched the locket and broke into a quiet sob, wishing you could have done something, wishing you could have saved her, or at the least gone with her.

Sam hadn’t wasted a second, quickly following you out of the building to make sure you were alright. She watched with worry as you slumped down into the grass and curled up. Seeing the way you tucked yourself and hid reminded her of Tara.. and all she wanted to do was to comfort you.. return the love you had shown her.

Walking up behind you, Sam was about to make her presence known, until you pulled out the heart locket from under your shirt.

Sam stood frozen. She recognized that necklace.. What the fuck?? That was.. Were you one of the killers? One that had gotten away? It couldn’t be..

Sam girt her teeth, scowling at her own foolishness.

“Im so sorry I couldnt save you..”

Sam heard you whispering and her face contorted with disgust and anger. This girl was seriously mourning Amber Freeman, wishing for her return when she hurt and

“I never should have let it get this far.. I should have been there.. im so sorr-“

You instantly cut off when you hear a disgruntled huff behind you. Darting around to see Sam you instantly enter panic mode, poorly attempting to scramble back, holding the necklade hidden.

“S-sam please-“

You whisper holding your hands above your face as she stepped closer.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Sam growls.

“One of the killers? Is that why you came up to me? To kill me as revenge for your Psycho ex girlfriend??”

“NO!”

You yell, stuttering mess as you try to explain.

“Please.. sh-she was manipulated, by Richie Kirsch- she would never have hurt anyone otherwise. H-he blackmailed her- I-I- didnt know until it was too late-“

Sam expression remains firm as she cuts you off.

“Why did you seek me out? acting like you didnt know who i was, only to get a reaction out of me? Those.. flirty looks, what were those for?”

Sam crouches down and gets close to your face

“What do you want from me that isnt some malicious intent, when youre clearly not over your.. her..??”

You can hear the anger in Sams voice, but also betrayal and disappointment. Her dark brown eyes staring intently into your honey colored ones.

Taking a shakey breath and trying to keep your composure, you attempt to explain in the simplest way you could.

“Amber was obsessed with you, yes your heritage to Billy, but she had always wondered what you were like. She wasnt always the way y-you came to know her..”

You wipe your tears, catching glimpse of Sams expression softening? If only slightly, it helped you relax a bit.

“She was passionate and thoughtful, protective just like you, I-I dont have enough words to describe even a fraction of how genuine and sweet she was..”

You trail off, realizing youre getting off track you clear your throat and look down.

“She never had the chance to meet you.. in a proper setting. And even though you..

You eyes felt watery again as you remember hearing on the news how Sam shot Amber in the head.

“I wanted to do it for her.. sven if thats weird or creepy- So atleast I would know, and.. maybe get the chance to tell her some day.. “

As your eyes wander to the night sky, Sam looks to the side, her arms crossed. Shes trying her best to process this information, but shes utterly speechless.

“Im sorry Sam..”

She hears the pain in your voice, and despite the horrors that this woman had caused, she knows what its like to lose someone like that. The way you seemed to look for Amber in the stars, mumbling to her like you know shes still there, how you carefully protected that necklace..

There was no way Sam would be able to digest all of this information about Amber Freeman so quickly. A name she hadn’t heard in well over a year now, that had been who she had blamed for all of the wreckage.. S haking her head, Sam instead shifted her focused on you, trying to bring herself back to the present moment.

Every fiber in Sams being was telling her to run, to drive away, anything to get away from this likely sociopathic girl. But the way your doe eyes shimmered as they looked back to meet her own.

She couldnt resist it..

Sam carefully reached out, gently brushing a cherry blossom petal that had fallen into your hair. She takes note of the way you flinch slightly, as if expecting her rage.. likely due to how the Woodsburo news had depicted her after the incident.

Sam takes a deep breath as she lets her hand fall and sits down a few meters from you, also in the grass under a different tree. Her hands fiddle in her lap as she tries to find the words.

“So.. was i everything you.. she.. had hoped for?”

The taller woman asks quietly now, the bite having left her tone as she watches you, focusing on only you and the present moment. (She would have a meltdown trying to cope with the new information later. but we’ll get to that.)

You look up at Sam, studying her and the way she now looked at you with.. concern, almost. Your voice is but a tiny whisper, a single tear rolling down your cheek.

“I think she would have adored you.”

#creative writing #literature #scream #writing #fanfic #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter headcanons #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter #scream fanfic #scream 2022 #scream franchise #amberfreeman #amber freeman #ghostface #light angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #past relationships #Spotify