#but maybe they didn’t originate with the fed like we originally thought?

[digoload]

Ok so I was looking at the merchants and I may be reaching but does anyone else think that they look kinda like dragons??

The one on the left has the teeth of course, but I know that Leo at least mentioned wanting to be a pink/purple dragon which sound kinda like bright colours like these skins are.

This one also seems to have spikes on its back and even a tail? It’s difficult to tell and I haven’t really seen the others but what if this is what the eggs would grow into??

I mean, the island DID used to be called “egg island” apparently. Maybe these are the grown up eggs that used to live here?

#digo speaks #qsmp #qsmp theory #I originally thought that they’d just grow into the workers or something? and that’s why the federation were growing them #but maybe they didn’t originate with the fed like we originally thought? #maybe they just “picked them up’’ like they first implied with the dragon egg story #or maybe they made them to be merchant guys like these #although what would have happened to their personalities .. I don’t know

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | end up here

a/n: i'm going FERALLLLLLL over this chapter. enjoy poisoned mercury's debut album hehe.

iv. end up here by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“your band name doesn’t even make any sense,” you argued, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you. 

luke crashed your secret spot, again, and refused to let you smoke in silence until you gave him a detailed explanation of how your day went. he knew you didn’t smoke every day, only on days that were particularly hard. he noticed that your bad days always had something to do with your dad, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring that up. 

anyway, you got fed up with his badgering and that stupid smirk on his face because he knew you were about to crack, and decided that if he was going to act like a toddler, you would too. hence, why you were now bringing up his band name. 

luke took offense to that because he thought the band name was cool. he was the one to suggest it. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let his hurt show on his face, “what do you mean? poisoned mercury is a sick name.” 

“mercury is already poisonous. your band name is like redundant or some shit.” 

“then why did so many people in history ingest it?” luke asked, recalling the one thing he remembered from his high school history class before he dropped out. he took a drag from his cigarette, turning his body a bit so the wind didn’t blow the smoke directly in your face. 

“they fucking died, castellan,” you replied, deadpan. 

“oh,” he blinked, staring off, “i didn’t know that.” 

you rolled your eyes, a habit that you’ve picked up whenever you were with him and sat back down on the bench. luke joined you, silent as he thought about what you just said. he really needed to stop zoning out during lessons, but since he was already out of high school, he guessed it didn’t matter anymore. 

as much as you hate to admit it, luke castellan was growing on you. sure, he got on your nerves like nobody else– the boy just doesn’t quit– but, he wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought. not that you’d ever tell him that though. 

when you got back to the cabin last week after helping with concert prep, the cabin was spotless. there were no empty red bull cans in sight, the table tops were free of crumbs, floor vacuumed and mopped, and there was even a candle burning on the counter. you approached your bedroom door to find a post-it on the handle. luke’s messy writing was smudged around the corners, but you could still make out what it said. 

“five star, 

i snitched on the boys and my mom will have a stern talk with them about their cleanliness. can’t promise that people will stop talking about me, but i can promise you won’t have to live in the dojo casa house mojo or whatever it was. 

ps i’m using the spot tomorrow, just thought i should let you know. maybe we can set up a calendar for reservations. 

luke :)” 

the cabin hasn’t been as messy since. whatever may castellan told the boys worked like a charm. there was still the occasional trash, but nothing crazy. it smelled better in the cabin too, still like a boy, but it smelled like expensive cologne more than anything. cedarwood and pine. 

and thankfully, the luke castellan hype train was starting to run out of steam, with many people finally realizing that he was also just a human being and the surprising revelation that luke castellan was not entertaining anyone during his time at camp helped with it as well. you still heard whispers about him here and there, but you were glad the topic of conversation was beginning to switch to something else. 

you and luke walked to the gym and back home every morning together. he and the boys sat with you and clarisse during meals. they tagged along for music lessons and spoke to the kids, which they really appreciated. they helped the older campers with writing music, luke particularly. you’d been around a few musicians in your life and many of them only kissed ass when your dad was around, but poisoned mercury was different. they were passionate about their music. that was clear.

after a conversation with clarisse, where she managed to convince you that not all musicians are like your ex, you began to let loose a little bit. you hung out with the boys more, partly as an excuse so clarisse could hang out with chris without causing too much suspicion, and found that you actually enjoyed their company. and luke castellan? well, he wasn’t half bad. that doesn’t mean he got off easy though. 

you took a hit of your vape, facing him, “are you done interrogating me?” 

“for now, yeah,” he smiled as you shook your head. “are you coming to the concert tonight?” 

“well, i did help organize it.” 

“a simple yes would’ve sufficed, five star,” luke teased, relighting his cigarette. it was burning unevenly and luke was never one to waste his cigarettes. “you gonna watch us play?” 

“don’t have a choice. dad wants me there the whole time.” 

“you can act a little excited,” luke ran a hand through his curls, “we are pretty good, you know.” 

“i know,” you hummed. the sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze in the air. goosebumps formed on your skin, the t-shirt and denim shorts you wore didn’t offer much comfort. you shivered, “i have listened to your music.” 

“are you cold?” 

your teeth chattered, but you shook your head, “i’m fine.” 

luke took off his hoodie, tossing it in your direction, “take it.” 

“no,” you tossed it back to him, “told you i’m good.”

always so stubborn, luke thought.  

“if you catch a cold, that’s not on me,” he placed the hoodie on the bench between the two of you. “which songs have you listened to?” 

“kilby girl, of course. it played on the radio so much when you guys first dropped it,” you said, remembering the days where you and your hometown friends would blast it in the car. it reminded you of high school, reckless decisions, life-long memories, and the thrill of knowing you were going to be playing the sport you’d worked so hard to excel in at a d1 level in the fall. you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, “i really like family line. it might be my favorite.” 

luke’s eyebrows shot up. not many people talked about family line. it was probably their least streamed song. they never performed the song on tour because it was difficult for luke to sing it. it was a personal song to him. it was inspired by his relationship with his father, or lack thereof. 

when poisoned mercury first got signed to olympus records, luke sent a message to his dad on facebook. luke hadn’t tried to contact him since he was ten, not since his father returned his letter to him unopened, no response but a “return to sender” stamp plastered over the envelope. but after the small congratulatory party his mom set up for the band after they signed, luke felt like a little kid again, a kid who wanted to share the great news with his dad, so he found his dad on facebook, made an account, and sent him a message. 

he didn’t get a reply, which was expected, but it felt good for a second to pretend that he had a father to tell his good news to. luke thought he didn’t care about whether or not his dad was proud of him, but when his message went from “sent” to “read” a few days later, he was brought back to those moments in his life when he cried and wondered why he wasn’t enough to make his dad stay. he wrote family line in one sitting, on his bed in his bedroom in connecticut, looking at the little league medals on his wall that seemed to mock him. 

he originally didn’t want it on the album because he felt like it didn’t fit the vibe of the rest of the songs and that it was too real, too vulnerable for a debut album, but then he played it for his mom and she loved it. she cried when she first heard it and luke knew that even if people didn’t like the song, he was going to put it out for his mom. 

“huh,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “wasn’t expecting that one. thought you’d be more of a crash my car type of girl.” 

“i like that too,” you shrugged, “but family line. that song. i don’t think i have the words to describe it.” 

“thanks, five star,” luke looked down at his feet, taking a puff from his dying cigarette. “that’s my mom’s favorite, too.” 

“did you write it?” 

luke nodded, looking to face you. there was a new expression on your face, one that you’d never used with him before. it was a mix of disbelief and awe. he tried not to get offended that you didn’t think he could write something like family line, but he couldn’t blame you. he didn’t really portray the type of person who would be able to be that raw and vulnerable on a song. “me and trav write the lyrics for our songs, mostly. chris and connor help too, but the bulk of the lyrics are me.” 

“you need to stop doing that.”

he cocked his head to the side, crushing the cigarette butt on the hardware of the bench, “doing what?” 

“surprising me,” you shook your head, “i don’t like it.” 

“i don’t know what to tell you,” he chuckled, leaning back on the bench. he looked out into the lake, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, “i have layers. you just gotta give me a chance.” 

“how do you do it?” you sat criss cross on the bench, leaning against the arm rest. “how do you write like that?” 

you’d always been curious about music, even if you weren’t good at it. your dad was never one to answer your questions, especially because you were interested in lyrics more than anything, and that wasn’t his forte. 

luke mimicked your actions, “i dunno. personal experience, i guess?”

you frowned, thinking about the lyrics of family line. luke never talked about his dad, but spoke highly of his mom. was family line based on his own life? if it was, his dad was an asshole. 

you relented to the cold, grabbing the hoodie that he left in between the two of you. you ignored the triumphant smile on his face when you draped the sweater over your bare legs, shielding them from the wind chills. 

he continued, “sometimes things happen to me that get me worked up and i have to write a song about it. sometimes, it’s based on my imagination. it depends.”

you wanted to ask him about his dad, but you didn’t know if he considered you guys friends yet. it’s not like you made it easy for him anyway. you could deal with the banters and annoyance, but you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. you could be a dick, but you weren’t cruel. 

you changed the subject, “okay, let’s play a game.” 

“21 questions?” luke bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. he waggled his eyebrows, dodging your arm that reached out to smack him. 

“you’re gross,” you gagged, knowing the implications of the game, “no, i’m gonna ask about the songs on your album and you tell me if it’s real life or from your imagination.” 

“alright, go for it five star,” he beamed, propping his elbows on his crossed knees. he loved talking about music with anyone. he could go on and on for hours. 

“18.” 

“real,” luke snorted, remembering the first time travis pitched the idea for the song to the band, “but not my experience. it was trav. he met this girl at one of our gigs in new york, right after we got signed, and he was obsessed. she was a freshman at nyu and she kept telling him he was too young for her, even though she was just less than a year older. trav was hooked.” 

you could picture it. it was definitely something travis would do. “okay, another one of my favorites. only angel?” 

“not real,” luke shook his head, a slight blush creeping up on his face. “if you tell anyone, five star, i will vehemently deny it, but i had a crush on jade west from victorious and i wrote it about her.” 

there was something about jade west that made luke like a love-sick puppy. ignoring the fact that she was hot, her attitude was something that luke was attracted to. she had a tough exterior and acted like she didn’t care about people, but she had her moments where she was soft and kind to the people she cared about the most. luke liked that. the idea that someone could be sensitive but only to the people they deemed worthy. 

he’d spent so much of his life trying to be worthy, in whatever way the stage of his life defined it, and he craved it– a pat on the back, an approval, a confirmation that he was worthy of it. 

you threw your head back laughing, surprised by his ridiculous confession. the sound of your laughter rang across the woods, making luke smile. your voice echoed throughout the trees and he his senses were surrounded by you. it hit luke like a truck. 

he sucked in a breath, taking out his phone. he jolted from his seat for more than one reason. “shit, five star. we gotta go.” 

you took out your phone too, checking the time. your eyes widened as you got up from your seat. you threw his hoodie over to him, “fuck, we’re late.” 

the two of you raced out of the woods, arriving to the concert venue with flushed faces and rapid breaths. you could feel clarisse’s knowing eyes on you as you got ready for the concert. you tried your best to ignore it. you were going to deal with that later. 

–

“and for the final event, i know you guys are looking forward to this one,” your dad laughed into the mic. the sun was long gone and there were disco lights illuminating the stage. a smoke machine was on either corner, making it difficult to see the bottom half of the stage. you and clarisse stood in the front row, listening to the deafening cheers of the campers. “ladies and gents, welcome poisoned mercury!” 

the screams got louder which you didn’t even know was possible. travis entered the stage first, sticking his tongue out as he expertly twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. connor came in next, smiling and waving at the crowd as he plugged his guitar into the amp. chris walked in with his bass strapped around his neck, eyes immediately finding clarisse and sending her a shy smile. you nudged her teasingly, enjoying the way she blushed under the lights. 

then luke castellan walked in. he ditched his hoodie and t-shirt and walked in with a white tank top on, messing with the curls on his head. he tugged on the silver necklace around his neck as his eyes scanned the crowd. he threw a wink to the group of the older girls in the back, turning to travis to let out a laugh at their reaction. the lights on the boys were blinding and a thin layer of sweat already began to form on their skin despite the bite to the air. 

luke took center stage, picking up his guitar. he leaned over directly in front of you, fingers pretending to mess with the wires connecting his guitar to the speakers, “hey, five star.” 

he straightened his back before you could reply. clarisse’s eyes darted between you and the boy, now nudging you like you did to her earlier. you rolled your eyes, smiling at the rest of the boys as luke began talking on the mic. 

“what’s up, camp half blood?” luke screamed into the mic. the crowd roared. “we’re poisoned mercury and we are so happy to be with you guys here this summer. before we close out this awesome concert, i wanna introduce our lovely band.” 

“on drums, we have the one and only, travis stoll!” luke turned around to applaud travis as he did a little drum solo, head banging as he hit the drums. he turned to connor, “on lead guitar, we have the amazing connor stoll!” 

connor strummed his guitar, leaning over on the left side to soak in the applause of the crowd. the girls beside you swooned as he unleashed one of his award-winning smiles. 

luke faced chris, “and on bass, we have my very best friend in the entire world, my 4lifer, chris rodriguez!” clarisse cheered loudly for chris as he played a tune on his bass, mouthing, “love you, brother,” to luke as he played. the crowd quited for a second as luke addressed them again, “and my name is luke castellan. we’re poisoned mercury!” 

you turned around to look at the crowd. the size of the crowd tripled when the boys got on stage. everyone had a smile on their face, excited to hear them play. 

“the song we’ll be singing for you guys today is from our debut album,” luke adjusted his mic on the stand. he got closer to it, lips touching the metal, “this is only angel.” 

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their song choice. this was not the song they were supposed to sing. they’d been rehearsing kilby girl for the past week. luke saw your reaction, laughing along with you. 

the instrumentals began and you nearly missed the beat drop because of the cheers from the crowd. as the song progressed, the boys were one with the music. you watched luke sing, working the crowd like a pro. his skin glistened under the spotlight, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. he approached chris when the chorus started, dragging his mic stand with him. he swung his guitar around so it rested on his back as he sang the lyrics. his curls were sticking to his forehead, eyebrows raised in glee as he performed. 

you couldn’t take your eyes off the lead singer, not even when the rest of the band had their own solos in the song. your eyes were glued on luke; how his adam’s apple was on full display as he threw his head back, getting lost in the music, how his arms flexed as he wrapped the mic cord around his fist, how his thin tank top stuck to his body and how it raised when he lifted his arm up to bring the mic closer to his lips. you saw the outline of his abdomen and his v-line. 

but what really got you was his face. he looked at peace on stage, a wide smile on his face, full lips pink and glossy as he licked them in between verses. he looked incredible up there, like that was where he belonged. he was born to be on stage like this. 

“fuck,” you mumbled, applauding at the end of their song. luke’s eyes found yours as he sang the last bit of the song, smiling at you. you hoped clarisse couldn’t hear you talk to yourself. you looked down at your feet, tugging nervously on the collar of your shirt, “i get it now.”

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Cure [Sex Pollen Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB Reader x Frank Castle

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sex Pollen Situation 1. A fictional substance that makes the characters experience unbearable pain if they don't fuck. "You, Bucky, and Frank are exposed to a strange chemical in an abandoned Hydra warehouse. And there's only one way to make the effects wear off faster."

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). No use of Y/N. AFAB Reader. Implied sexual assault of and by Bucky during his time as the Winter Soldier. Implied past/current casual sexual relationships between the Reader/Bucky and Reader/Frank. All the dubious consent circumstances that come with sex pollen. Unprotected P in V, threesome, breeding kink, creampies, multiple orgasms, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, honey). 

WC: 3,200

A/N: Trope de Sept order got a little shuffle. Don't worry, everything is still coming, I just wanted to space out characters, fic types, etc. now that I have a better idea of what the rest of the fics will be.

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

How you and Bucky managed to get separated from the rest of the team, you weren’t sure.

The Hydra base was recently abandoned. Tipped off that the Avengers were on their way, they scrambled to make their escape, leaving miscellaneous papers, weapons, and other evidence of guilt behind.

You certainly weren’t going to take anyone in on this, but at least you’d have some clues that could maybe point to where they’d be next.

You and Bucky made your way into some kind of lab, the rest of the team raiding other areas of the base. Coms were down, but you weren’t too concerned as there seemed to be no threat that required back up. Hydra left this place abandoned and disheveled due to their hastened exit.  

“Shit. There’s no one here.” Bucky lamented, sending a set of empty beakers crashing to the floor in frustration

“Not no one, but sure as shit ain’t Hydra.” a gravelly voice cut through the darkness of the lab

You and Bucky turned to the source; a tall figure attached to dusty combat boots, vest dripping with white paint smears and long-ago dried blood splatters. He wore a scowl on his tired face, a bruise covering the left side of his jaw, and had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Castle.” Bucky nodded toward him

“Barnes. Sweetheart.” he nodded back to the two of you

“I’m sorry– sweetheart? How do you two…” Bucky asked, pointing between you and Frank.

“Remember when you said I should get a hobby? You know when weeks go by and there are no missions?” you said

“I meant like, take up pickleball or crocheting; not get sexually involved with vigilantes.”

“Hey, hey!” Frank rebutted

“Woah!” you also interrupted Bucky’s implication “Who said anything about me sleeping with him? No, I started taking on some– let’s just call them personal cases outside of work. You know, using my powers to be the everyman's hero. I run into Frank on rooftops sometimes.”

“So your hobby is being a superhero, when you’re not at work being a superhero?”

“I mean sometimes we also sleep with each other.” Frank added

Frank was lucky your powers didn’t involve laser vision, or else he’d be burnt to a crisp by the way you glared at him.

“Really, doll? Castle?”

“You know what Bucky, I don’t need judgment from someone who's dating pool includes all four of the Golden Girls. Wait, how do you two know each other?” you motioned between him and Frank

“A mutual friend of ours, Curtis Hoyle, runs a veterans therapy group once a week. It usually also turns into a poker game at my place afterwards.”

“Wilson joins sometimes too.” Frank added

“Didn’t think this was your scene, Castle,” Bucky said, bringing the subject back to the mission “Thought you worked alone. You’re not thinking of joining up are you?”

Frank scoffed. “Nah. Following a lead. Led me here.”

“To a world wide terrorist orginization’s base?”

“You’d be surprised how many of the street level scumbags I chase down are involved in shit like this.”

“So you came here to go all Punisher on them?”

Frank raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Sure, the Avengers have been playing whack-a-mole with them for years, but the vigilante with a rage problem and a bunch of guns is gonna do it.” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Fairness to me, didn’t know just what this place was til I got here.”

Bucky let out a deep exhale. He glanced between you and Frank, before returning his focus to the abandoned lab around you.

“Well you’re here now, might as well make yourself useful.”

The three of you looked high and low through the lab and turned up nothing of real value that could even be a glimmer of a lead on what Hydra was planning next or where they had scurried off to.

Bucky used his vibranium arm to bust open the door of a locked walk-in freezer, the last place it seemed you hadn’t searched.

Various test tubes and bags of medical supplies sat on the shelves, some full of odd looking substances, others spilled over and shattered from Hydra’s escape efforts.

Frank walked up to a shelf containing vials of cherry-colored liquid, picking one up in his large hand and examining it curiously.

“Don't touch that!” Bucky exclaimed, lunging forward just as Frank turned his head

Their bodies collided, sending the glass canister spinning into the air and crashing down to the ground. The red substance splashed all over the concrete floor and tiny fragments of glass flew in every direction.

“Castle, please tell me you didn’t just do that.”

“The hell you mean, me? You’re the one who pushed me!” Frank argued back

Bucky’s panic stricken gaze met yours and you had never seen fear quite like this in his eyes.

“Don't breathe.” he commanded

“What do you mean don’t breathe?” you asked, shaking off some of the liquid that splattered on your boot

“Oh god, no no no. It’s too late. We’ve all already been exposed.” Bucky lamented, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands.

“Bucky, what is that stuff? What is going on?”

“It’s a serum.”

“Like a super soldier serum?”

“Yes. But also no. This one’s effects are temporary. And highly potent. And very airborne.”

“Airborne. Like we all just breathed it in?”

“Yep.” he confirmed

“So what does it do? What’s gonna happen to us?” you asked, panic rising in your chest

“When I was theirs,” he motioned to the room around you, implying his time as Hydra’s prisoner “They realized all their sick experiments finally worked on me and they wanted more super soldiers, to replicate what they’d created in my bloodstream. The problem was, this was right around the time Dr. Zola got captured and arrested by the team that would become Shield.”

You glanced up and down the shelves once more, hoping something in here could be used for first aid in treating whatever the hell was about to happen to the three of you.

“So without their best scientist, no matter how many liters of my blood they took and tried to recreate the serum with, they couldn’t. In a last ditch attempt, they thought maybe it could be transferred genetically, They thought maybe they could use me to breed more supersoldiers.”

Your attention snapped back to Bucky.

“Breed? Wait, so they made you…? Oh my god, with who?!” you asked in horror as Bucky revealed yet another disturbing detail of his past

“Usually volunteers for Hydra’s cause. Sometimes other prisoners; women they also had been doing experiments on.”

“That’s disgusting.” you commented

“Believe me, I’m aware.”

“But what does that have to do with that stuff?” Frank motioned to the mess still splattered on the floor

“Zola’s prodigy, a real peach of a human named Dr. Whitehall, wanted to ensure the maximum possibility my DNA would take and the women participants would be as fertile as possible. I mean, after all this shit they did to me before, they thought maybe my swimmers would be pretty fried and they could create something to remedy that. So that stuff is a concoction he created in the 70s, basically it enhances all sexual urges to their most primal instinct, so those exposed are inclined to reproduce.”

“So it’s horny juice?” Frank asked

“Eloquent as always Castle, but yes. I’d say we have about ten more minutes before it kicks in. Once it does, it’s really painful until it’s out of your system or until you act on what it wants you to.” he turned to you “Okay here’s what’s gonna happen– Doll, you’re gonna go outside and lock Frank and me in this freezer so you’ll be safe from us.”

“Safe from you? What do you mean?”

“This stuff, it kinda alters your self control for a while. Like I said, it makes you run more on instinct, especially when the painful side effects hit. Once it starts kicking in, we’ll do anything to get rid of the pain. Frank and I won’t be able to resist you and you won’t be up for putting up much of a fight either. Get somewhere where our coms will work again and radio to the team, have them get you to Banner’s lab immediately. He might be able to concoct something to ease your symptoms for a few days.”

“A few days?!”

“Well it fades faster if you… ya know. But if you don’t, it could take a while to move through your system.”

“What about the two of you?”

“We’ll just have to… take care of ourselves here.” he said, making lewd gesture with his hand “Won’t be as efficient as the real thing, but it’ll help.” 

“I’m not gonna leave the two of you to just jack off and suffer.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll be fine. Just worry about you.” Frank chimed in, agreeing with Bucky

“If the solution is to… you know fuck it out. I mean shit, it’s nothing I haven’t already done with either of you.”

“Excuse me?” Frank inquired, now the one whipping his head to look between the two of you

“Remember in group a couple months ago when I said I got casually involved with a coworker, but broke it off cause it was getting in the way of our work? Well...” Bucky gestured towards you

“Unbelievable.” Frank grumbled with a shake of his head

You sat on the floor across from Bucky, tac suit suddenly feeling a bit too tight and itchy against your skin.

“This freezer we’re in… it’s still on right?” you asked

“Yeah.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m gonna combust at any minute?”

“It’s the serum. Shit, it’s already taking effect.” Bucky rushed over and crouched down beside you “Doll, you sure you don’t want to get out of here?”

“No. I want to stay. I want to help both of you and I don’t want to go through this alone either.” you said, unzipping your jacket and tossing it across the room without a thought, “Jesus it feels like my blood is on fire.”

You fanned yourself with your hands to no avail. This must have been how your mother felt during your teenage years when she’d lament about hot flashes.

Suddenly, you understood what Bucky meant by pain all over your body. It started small, almost like a needle prick, near your abdomen, but rapidly spread like ink on wet parchment.

Evidence that they were both starting to feel it too was showing; the way Frank’s brows were scrunched and how he was keeled over, hands on his knees with white knuckles gripping at his jeans. Bucky’s supersoldier powers combined with his previous exposures to this substance, he seemed reasonably calm compared to the two of you. His blue eyes were glazed over in a vacant stare as he sat on the ground across from you. Sweat droplets were beginning to form on his unusually pale skin. 

“P–please” you begged to both of them, pain suddenly unbearable as you pushed your pelvis off the floor, trying to find relief with friction against nothing.

You reached out to Bucky, but he shook his head no.

“Take care of Frank first.” he lulled his head to look at you “I’m more resistant to it’s effects. I’ll be fine for a while.”

“How many times do we have to… you know, to get it out of our systems?” you asked, still writhing your body against the air.

“As many times as it takes.” Bucky said

“Frankie” you reached a hand forward, beckoning him towards you.

He stumbled as he crossed the room, still slouched over slightly as he walked.

Frank’s cock was obviously strained against his jeans as he crouched down in front of you, deep brown eyes meeting your gaze.

“Sweetheart, you sure?” he asked once more, resistance to the serum fading quickly as he ran the back of two fingers down your arm, stroking you in reassurance.

As soon as his hand brushed your skin, icy relief washed over you, sending goosebumps along your flesh. You had the irresistible urge to press more of his skin against yours, to be as close to him as possible to quell the heat still bubbling beneath the surface.

All you could do was nod in response as you lunged forward, rubbing your hand along the bulge in his pants. Frank whined, a sound you’d never heard him make in the times you’d fallen into bed together, before crashing his lips against yours.

His kisses were fiery, full of tongue and teeth, like he just couldn’t drink enough of you in. Usually so patient and tender in bed, his large hands were now clawing at you, desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as he could. 

He tugged off your boots in one motion, allowing you to shimmy your pants down your body. Both of your shirts were quickly discarded as well. Fumbling to unbutton his jeans and push them down, Frank let out a relieved sigh as he finally freed his aching cock. The cool air from the freezer hit your sopping cunt, refreshing as another wave of heat rolled through your body as the serum was now fully in control.

You glanced over to Bucky as Frank laid you down on the hard concrete floor. His eyes were squeezed shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure, flesh hand down his pants stroking himself to quell the growing anguish as he listened to you and Frank. 

“Goddamnit doll, I can smell you.” His breathing was labored as he spoke.

Frank reached down, running a trembling finger through your folds.

“Shit Barnes, of course you can, she’s soaked.”

“P– please Frank” You begged again as Frank touched you where you needed him most, the action unknowingly teasing you into more pain.

“Shhh shh shh sweetheart. I know. It’s hurting me too. I’ll take care of you.” Frank reassured, sliding two fingers into you effortlessly

A strained sob slipped from you as he pumped in and out of you, relieved at the sensation but still in so much agony from not getting what you really needed.

“I think you’re ready.” he commented, barely restraining himself from just taking you roughly

You reached for his shoulders, guiding him fully on top of you. As he lowered himself he slid inside you in one motion, sinking all the way in easily. The serum didn’t allow him any pause, hips immediately snapping in and out with rough thrusts, primal need taking full control. His ample length repeatedly hit that perfect spingey spot inside you, causing you to cry out.

God the sounds in the room were downright sinful. Frank, who had been incredibly verbal during your previous trists, now reduced to only groans and grunts being swallowed by your sloppily placed kisses. Bucky’s lewd moans echoed off the walls and combined with the sound of skin slapping and your mewling. The vulgar symphony only spurred you on. Your peak hit you surprisingly quickly, though you attributed that to the foreign chemical invading your system.

It was like no other orgasm you’d ever had, like those viral videos of a firework finale all accidentally exploding at once. It felt endless, like you’d just be there cumming on the floor for the rest of your life.

“Shit honey, keep squeezing me just like that.” Frank finally found his words, climbing his own summit to relief. His large hand gripped at your jaw, steadying you beneath him as his movements became more erratic, an improvised drum solo of a brutal pace.

His dark eyes met yours, pupils blown out as he watched you come apart beneath him once more. Another overwhelming orgasm washed over you, more intense than the last.

That was enough to drag Frank over the edge with you. He pulsed deep inside you, filling you to the brim so much that you could feel it running down your legs before he even pulled back.

“Goddamnit.” he groaned into your shoulder

Sprawled out on the floor, you were an absolute mess of your own slick and sweat and Frank’s cum, but you didn’t care. You still direly needed more relief and knew Bucky must’ve been in total agony by this point; listening and watching you and Frank go at it.

“How you doing sweetheart?” Frank asked as he rolled off you, now a little more clarity that he’d gotten one orgasm out. You could still see the strained muscles in his neck, his skin still a shade of red as his lust was not yet fully satiated. 

“Better. Still hurts a little but much more bearable. Bucky, you ready to take over?”

He was slumped against the wall, eyes still squeezed shut. His jacket and shirt were gone and his pants were undone. But he’d given up on touching himself, knowing it wouldn’t soothe his suffering in the way he needed. You crawled across the floor toward him.

“Hey Buck? Eyes on me baby.”

His eyes snapped open and looked at you, full of desperation and pity.

“Let me help, yeah?” you spoke sweetly

He nodded, watching limply as you fumbled with his fly and exposed his throbbing length.

A switch seemed to flip inside him as you straddled him and sank down, coming alive with an animalistic fervor as you rocked your hips slowly. He let out a hearty exhale feeling your velvety walls all the way down his cock, finally alleviating the anguish he’d been trying so hard to conceal. 

Every sensation in your body was amplified, every touch of Bucky’s skin against yours was exquisite, every caress of his metal arm up and down your back shot like lightning striking straight to your core. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every thrust, every exhale. Overwhelmed by it all, you collapsed against his shoulder, letting him take the reins as he began to pitch himself up into you. How different he was too in this circumstance than the times previously you’d had him. Long languid strokes to ensure you’d feel it all long forgotten in favor of dragging you down by the hips over and over to meet his pace, every slam punctuated by lust and fury. Muttering ‘oh god’ and ‘yes baby please’ into your ear.

A soft caress brushed along the back of your neck, Frank kneeling behind you placing tender, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulder blades as you and Bucky fucked it out. The urge must’ve been building in him again because his hands were all over you and soon enough you weren’t sure whose grasp was where, only vaguely aware because Bucky’s vibranium touch was cool and calm amongst the heightened temperature of your sweaty skin. 

Your orgasm with Bucky blossomed, rising from deep within your core and spreading like wings in the breeze. You cried into his shoulder as he did not relent in his pace, pulling your pelvises flush as he came inside you with a carnal moan.

But you still weren’t satiated and you could tell neither were they. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night. 

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #frank castle x reader #frank castle #jon bernthal #trope de sept #sex pollen #bucky x you #frank castle x you #imagine #bucky barnes x you x frank castle

[teawithnosugar]

hiii! loooove your writing <3

Would you ever write a one-shot where reader has a bf but is sneaking around with Ellie and Ellie finally gets fed up with it, like why don’t you just leave him?? But then we find out reader is too afraid to dump him because maybe he hurts/threatens reader?

Idk I feel like this could sting but in the best way 🫣

Not Too Late

! Pairings ,' Ellie x Reader ! CW ,' angst/comfort....I think, abuse, cheating ! words ,' 0.9k ! synopsis ,' You aren't as unreasonable as Ellie originally thought ! song ,' Lover, You Should've Come Over - Jeff Buckley

"Maybe I'm too young To keep good love from going wrong"

! AN ,' I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS, I KNOW I USUALLY GIVE SAD ENDINGS BUT IT FELT WRONG TO NOT GIVE THIS ONE A SOMEWHAT HAPPY END

“Jesus Christ, I remember this…” Ellie said with a grin as she looked at one of the pictures in the photo album you were holding. Together, bare on your bed, you nestled between her legs, her chin resting tenderly upon your shoulder. The warmth of her breath caressed your skin as she nuzzled her nose beneath your ear. You were both looking at pictures from your teenage years, specifically a picture you took with Ellie asleep on your shoulder while both Jesse and Dina drew on her face. You had been friends for years, madly in love for the majority of it. You giggled, smile faltering once you looked outside, the sun was setting which meant your boyfriend Dan would be home soon because unfortunately, the moment you and Ellie confessed your love for each other was 2 months into your relationship with a guy who was relatively new to Jackson.

“Why…why are you still with him?” Ellie asked softly. You both loved each other, she knew you didn’t love him, and you knew she was bound to ask this question sooner or later.

“It’s complicated Els-” 

“It’s not,” you began, only to be interrupted by her swift retort, her tone laced with an icy edge. She was right, you both knew it and she’s been patient with you for the past few months, she had given you the grace of time, patiently awaiting the words you never uttered. 

She untangled herself from you, standing up and picking up her clothes from the floor and starting to dress up. “Els please, give me time-”

“I’ve given you 9 goddamn months Y/N. If you were staying with him because you were pregnant you would’ve given birth by now. Why don’t you just leave him?”

She asked coldly, tying her shoes as she finished dressing up. You stayed quiet, hugging your knees tightly as you stared at the messy sheets. Words lingered on the tip of your tongue, desperate to reveal the way he wields his words like weapons, threatening your very existence. You stayed quiet because, your mind, painting vivid images of the horrors he would inflict on you if you even told him you wanted to leave.

She groaned frustratedly at your silence, walking out of your house and slamming the door shut. You sobbed softly as you started dressing up. She always came back to you after arguments, so you weren’t worried about that. You were just sad because you were hurting her.

When Dan came home, he immediately noticed a flannel on the floor, it wasn’t yours and it sure as hell wasn’t his. There’s no way you got it recently, you had been home for weeks, waiting for the bruises he gave you during your last fight to fade. It’s the reason Ellie even came over, she missed you, and now you missed her.

His fists struck with a brutal force, knocking you to the floor. Frozen in fear, you lay there, limp and defenseless—your body's automatic response. He unbuckled his belt then used it as a whip, the deafening sound the leather made against your skin filled your ears. Shades of crimson danced upon your flesh, an artist's palette of pain. And still, he persisted. When the belt had worn out its cruel dance, he returned to using his bare fists. Amidst the assault, thoughts slithered, attempting to justify his actions, to find reason in this madness. ’Maybe I’m disappointing him? Sometimes men get carried away when they feel like they should be having fun’ Such thoughts whispered in the recesses of your mind, clinging desperately to a semblance of understanding.

Minutes stretched into an eternity as you lay on the floor, broken and bruised. Tentatively, you rose, your trembling form cleaning the bloodstains from the floor, your body seeking refuge beneath the cascading water of the shower. This had become your grim reality—a cycle where beatings transformed from rare occurrences to nightly rituals upon Dan's return. He drained you of strength, providing the bare minimum sustenance required for survival, keeping you physically weak, your spirit tethered.

Days melted into one another, your existence confined to a bedridden state, waiting for Dan's return, awaiting his whims and desires. Initially, your thoughts lingered upon the pain you caused Ellie, but as your senses dulled over the weeks, those thoughts waned. They were replaced by an ache, a longing to see her face, to feel her presence. Dan's venomous threats reverberated in your ears, yet whenever you closed your eyes, all you could see was Ellie, her face shining like a beacon in the darkness.

She’ll come back, she always comes back.

Exhaustion seeped into your bones, prompting you to seek solace in sleep, still dressed in your sweater and pajamas. You saw her beautiful face, leaning close, whispering words that were muffled by the buzzing in your ears. A tender smile graced your lips as you beheld her beauty, there was no sight more enchanting. Once the grogginess and the buzzing in your ears faded, you realized this wasn’t a dream.

“Baby are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“Els…?”

If you were in the right state, you would have enveloped her in your arms, holding her close. You would have nestled into her chest as she gently lifted you up. You would’ve seen Dan’s unconscious body by the doorframe of your bedroom. You would’ve noticed the relief on her face because she realized just how much worse you would’ve been if she hadn’t mustered up the courage to try talking to you again. You would’ve noticed the tears threatening to fall down her face because she wasn’t too late.

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us 2 #tlou 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader

[beefrobeefcal]

Some angst??? Idk. Maybe there’s something here. You decide.

This is after Frankie tells mouse that he is as big as he wants to get. Mouse, being the wonderful partner she is, listens to his request and stops encouraging any extra ~indulging~ to help him maintain/lose weight.

BUT each time they pass a gelato shop without going in or mouse says no to a dessert menu, it stings. It’s as if he’s been left hanging for a kiss or like he’s been left on read.

Food has become an avenue of affection, and now that it’s closed he’s realizing how much it means to him. And even though he’s the one that asked for this, he feels like he’s going crazy being denied in this way.

To Nonnie, Love Beefro

The bitch is back. Need we say more?

--------<3---------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: All Pent Up & Nowhere to Go

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pregnant Fem!Reader

Summary: A communication breakdown causes a lot of angst.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 3,546

Content Warning: weight talk, angsty angsty, self esteem issues, communication breakdown, allusions to oral (f-receiving), feederism talk, car smut, masturbation, p in the v, established relationship

Author's Notes: I know this deviated from the original ask, but I hope this suffices, Nonnie. It's not as sweet or innocent as I think you were looking for. Thank you @xdaddysprincessxx for beta'ing & offering ideas! Thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for also beta'ing & being their every awesome supportive self.

Things were rough, that much was true. After the night that Frankie had confided in you that he felt he was big enough then thinking out loud about how maybe he was getting too big, you’d done your best to keep his meals at standard portions and not offered anything indulgent to him. 

On a Saturday, Benny had stopped by to return the snow shovel he’d borrowed from Frankie. Having not seen him in a while, you stepped back into the house to let the guys catch up. But you heard everything through the kitchen window as the guys chatted in the backyard. 

“Fish! Holy shit! You losing weight? Last I saw you, you looked... you were bigger!”, Benny chirped with a huge smile on his face, patting Frankie on the shoulder. 

“Yeah... well, you know... was getting pretty big... wanna keep the Mrs. Happy...” 

You almost dropped the knife while you were chopping vegetables.  

You peaked out the window and saw Benny’s face twist in confusion as he looked at Frankie. “I... dude, I thought... I mean, if you’re serious about it, I could always use your help. Trying to become a personal trainer... you know, I need to personally train someone...?” 

It wasn’t like Frankie hadn’t specifically said to you that he might be too big, but the way you jumped at his words and completely changed how you fed him – how you cared for him – was jarring. To see his portion sizes shrink so quickly and not be offered a dessert was disappointing for him. At the rate you changed everything, he couldn’t help but feel that you had wanted him to lose weight. Were you embarrassed to be seen with him like that? Were you glad to have a smaller partner? Did his body disgust you and were you doing a good job being supportive?  

Frankie’s mind would churn and whirl through every insecurity almost nightly as you slept peacefully next to him. When Benny offered to help him slim down further, he thought you would be happier, but it only made him feel worse about himself, and he didn’t know how to tell you. He didn’t want to disappoint you.  

Almost four months since Benny offered, Frankie had shrunk. Not by mass proportions, but enough that his silhouette was definitely smaller. It could have been because he wasn’t constantly heaving around a big, full belly anymore, but his clothing was no longer pulled tight across his middle. You did your best not to say anything about his body or comment on his eating, and despite your disappointment at his changing physique, you kept up a supportive and positive attitude. You had no idea that withholding that was eating Frankie up inside. 

The positive side of this was that Frankie’s broad shoulders were definitely broader and his arms were thicker and more muscular. But Frankie was miserable; he missed how you looked at him adoringly as he ate, or how you would squirm under his weight. He’d pulled away and was irritated almost all the time when he was home. He'd barely touched you in the past two months, and it left you wondering why he had become so removed. You’d tried talking to him, crawling onto his lap in nothing but a smile, but he’d declined, saying something along the line of being tired. Needless to say, the dejection had caused your vibrator and dildo collection to increase. 

Frankie texted you on a Friday evening and said he was going to the gym with Benny, and you could eat without him.  Your heart sank when you read the message and you ate your pathetic peanut butter and jam sandwich alone at the table. Your sadness quickly turned to anger with a smack of horniness; he’d gone from needing to make you scream his name and come on his hands, mouth and cock almost daily to barely looking at you, and you had only done what you thought he wanted you to. Not bothering to clear the table, you stomped off to your bedroom and grabbed one of your toys from the drawer. It was a newer one that was specifically used on your clit, and it was the closest thing to his mouth you could get. Not bothering to look at the time, you got to work, making yourself whine and pant, starting the ritual you’d created every time you missed his touch.  

You were so engrossed and close to climax that you didn’t hear Frankie’s truck pull up or the door open. You didn’t hear him come down the hallway because he no longer called out your name; he had stopped doing that a month ago. You didn’t hear him standing in the hallway, rocking between his feet anxiously, listening to you pulling those sounds that he used to out of your mouth. You didn’t hear the hurt that was boiling over into frustration and anger in his mind.  

You did, however, hear the bedroom door open as you came, and when your eyes met his, you barely recognized the broad, angry man standing in your doorway. 

“What. The. Fuck.”, he snarled through gritted teeth. In his heightened state, he couldn’t differentiate whether his anger was at you for what you were doing or at him for not willing to do it to you himself. 

“Frankie... baby... hi...”, you said softly, reaching your hand out to him, beckoning him to join you. 

“What the FUCK is that?”, he barked, clearly hurt, and pointing to the vibrator in your hand. 

You jumped at his harsh, loud tone, then closed your legs and pulled your knees to your body. Swallowing hard, you tried to find your voice, “Honey... I just... I needed...” 

He stepped into your room, his hulking form at the end of the bed. His eyes darted between your face and the vibrator. For the first time ever in your relationship, he felt unneeded and replaced. Betrayal broke out on his face, and he yelled, “You needed what? To replace me? Let me know I can’t keep you happy, so you put of a fucking show for me to come home to?” 

This was not your Frankie. Why was he mad? He’d never been angry before when he’d walk in on you masturbating in the past. He used to take it as the warm up act before he got to the main event, even telling you to finish for him before he got involved.  

“Baby... honey, no! I could never replace you! I just... I wanted a release... I didn’t think it was a big deal!” 

“That’s why you had to hide it then, huh?”, he yelled again, this time, sadness and hurt clearly in his voice. He didn’t know how to tell you the deep hurt he felt, thinking you were hiding this from him; thinking you didn't want him anymore, “Wait till I’m not home and then fuck yourself? Don’t need me anymore?” 

You saw his body language show more than his words could say. He was hurting and had been hurting for a while. You had no clue that he was making this whole big change for you, and now you’d basically told him that after all that hard work, you’d replaced him. No, you had no idea what was running through his head. All you knew was that you were tired of being rebuffed and ignored and wanted to give yourself some much needed pleasure and release and he was mad at you for it. 

“How fucking dare you! You barely even look at me anymore – let alone touch me – and you want to give me shit for wanting to-to feel good?”, you yelled back, standing up from the bed. His face fell and his big brown eyes widened. Your emotions were getting the better of you, and you could feel the hot tears begin to flood your eyes. Your voice cracked. “What is happening, Frankie? Talk to me!” 

He said nothing. He just turned and hurried out of the room, and you heard the back door slam shut and the garage door open. You waited to hear the truck start, but nothing came. You grabbed your things from the bathroom and bedroom and settled into the guest room. 

After having a shower in the guest bathroom, you’d crawled into the guest bed and tried to sooth yourself by scrolling through your phone. It was only once you heard Frankie come back into the house that you put your phone down. You saw his shadow pass the guestroom door, heading to your room, and then come back out and hover in front of the door. You wanted to call out to him, but it seemed fruitless. He’s turned down so many of your advances and chances to open up, you figured this was it. If he wanted it, he had to make the move. 

Your heart broke for a second time that night as the shadow retreated back down the hallway, and you heard your bedroom door close. 

Your night was restless; you tossed and turned, never able to find a spot that was comfortable. By the time morning light was pouring in through the window, you’d resigned to the fact that you were not going to get more than a few hours of sleep.  

As you laid in bed, trying to decide how to tackle the awkwardness that was sure to come from your next interaction with Frankie, your phone buzzed and your heard his buzz, too, from the next room.  

Calendar Reminder! - 12:00 pm – Taste of the Town! Food Truck Festival 

You groaned quietly, turning off the reminder. You’d bought tickets months ago for this, before Frankie’s health kick, at his request. You’d already made up your mind that he wouldn’t want to go – you weren’t going to make him – and opened up your messages to ask the group chat if anyone wanted the tickets.  

As you typed, a notification popped up from Frankie.  

You still wanna go? 

You were stunned. You knew he knew you’d read the message, and you wanted to answer, desperately clawing at any shred of attention he was willing to give you, but he was still on your shit list. 

Was gonna ask the guys and Hannah if they wanted the tickets. Assumed you wouldn’t want to.  

Through the walls, you heard him get out of bed and rip open the bedroom door. You got out of bed and waited for him to come bursting through the guestroom door, but instead he knocked. 

“Mouse? I-I think... I want to go with you. Might be fun, baby...” 

His voice was soft and pleading, and it made you melt. But you wanted an apology, an explanation!  

“It’s okay... I know it’s not your thing anymore...” 

The door opened up and Frankie stood in front of you with an adorable pout on his face.  

“No. I want to go. With you. I want to go with you.” 

You’d conceded and now that you were standing outside in the sunshine with Frankie as he ate a hot dog, you were glad you did. While the conversation was a bit awkward and stilted, he was at least talking to you.  

You mind wandered, watching the other happy couples walking hand in hand, when Frankie’s voice pulled you back.  

“Mouse? You gonna eat that?” 

You turned to him, then looked where he was pointing – at your hot dog.  

“Oh... no. Go ahead.”, you said quickly. Then as he grabbed it and was about to take a bite, you blurted out, “Are you sure you want another one?” 

You knew it was wrong as you watched Frankie’s eyes fall. He closed his mouth and put the hot dog down onto the picnic table, and sulked. You felt horrible. 

“Honey... I didn’t mean to stop you. I just thought...” 

“Thought what?”, he interjected in a cold, quiet tone. “Thought if I ate that you’d have a fat boyfriend again?” 

You froze, feeling the lump in your throat start. Is that what you had become? That girlfriend? “No... No, I thought it’s what you... I - never mind. You enjoy it, okay?” 

He didn’t look up at you. You did your best to keep the tears at bay, but it was quickly going to be a fruitless endevour. You got up from the table, trying and failing to keep your voice from breaking, “I’m going to get us something to drink, okay?” 

If he tried to stop you or say something, you didn’t know; you were already moving away from him, discreetly wiping your eyes.  

The rest of the afternoon was quiet and somber. Frankie had eaten your hot dog, but avoided anything else except the lemonade you brought him. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you didn’t want this to go on any longer. 

“Frankie?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what I did to fuck this up, but I want to make it better.” 

He stopped and looked at you. You felt his eyes look over your face, examining you. And he was. He was looking for his Mouse; his sassy, hot tempered, spitfire Mouse. Instead, he saw you looking the way you had for months, and he’d ignored it – sad and scared. He pulled you into a hug and it felt different; not just from the bit of weight he’d lost, but the emotion behind it, and you couldn't place what it was be it felt final. 

“I’m sorry, too, baby.” 

The ride home was quiet; the only sound was the radio on a low volume. You noticed up ahead that traffic was backing up on the highway, and as Frankie slowed the truck to a stop, he swore under his breath. 

Then you heard it. His tummy grumbled. Frankie was hungry. 

“Do you still keep snacks in your truck?” 

Your quiet question broke through the silence and was met with an irritated sigh from Frankie. 

“No. Benny helped me clean it all out.” 

“I have a granola bar in my purse.” 

You pulled out the little, wrapped bar and held it out for him. After a brief hesitation, he took it and ate it. 

Silence. 

“You... you got any more?” 

You smiled to yourself and pulled another one out of your bag, handing it to him, and just as with the first, it disappeared quickly.  

“Can we talk? I feel like we haven’t had a real conversation lately... and I just wanna know how you're doing.”, you pleaded softly. You took a risk and placed your hand on his shoulder. 

He let out a huff. “I hate this.” 

You pulled your hand back and faced forward, and he quickly turned, grabbing your hand. 

“No! No no no! Mouse, no, honey! That’s not what I meant! I mean... I hate this diet!” 

“This diet?” 

He turned back, hand returning to the steering wheel. “Yeah... I hate it. I’m always hungry and I just feel like shit, and I don’t feel like myself and I know this is what you want, but - “ 

“Whoa! Wait... what I want?”, you interjected, sounding almost offended. 

“Yeah. You want this. “, Frankie eyed you before finishing, “... don’t you?” 

“I... no! I thought you wanted this!” 

“Why would you think that?!”, he snapped. 

“Be-because you said you thought you were getting too big so I asked if you wanted to make a change and you said yes! I was trying to be supportive!” 

You didn’t mean to yell that at him, but you were so wound up and just as confused as he was. 

You stared at each other until a horn honking broke the silence. Frankie quickly turned and got the truck moving again. 

“You did this for me? Not because... not because you hated how I looked?” 

You stared at him aghast. “How are you even asking that?!” 

“You made me do it so quickly! Like all of sudden you... you just stopped. Stopped everything! It’s like you wanted it and as soon as I said it, you were elated!” 

“Oh my god, no! Frankie, no! I always felt selfish giving you all this food, and then you said you might not be happy with it... I love how happy I can make you with food and I never stopped! I put the same energy I would have into feeding you into... into not doing it as much!”, you said frantically. “Why didn’t you say anything?  Is this why you’ve ignored me? Why you’ve-you’ve cut me out? Is this why you don’t like me anymore? Don’t want to be around me?” 

Frankie slammed on the brakes and the whole truck lurched. He looked at you with wide eyed, his mouth open in shock. 

The horn behind you sounded again, and if not for the moving traffic, you were sure that that Frankie was ready to jump out and punch the guy behind you’s lights out. 

As soon as an opportunity presented itself, Frankie exited the highway and pulled into a parking lot. He threw the truck into park and ripped his seat belt off, then jumped out of the truck. You stayed put, watching him stalk around to the passenger side and rip the door open.  

“What?!”, he barked, breathing heavily with a panicked face. 

“What??”, you asked back, just as panicked as he was. 

“You think I don’t like you?! That I don’t want to be around you?” 

“Yes!”, you cried out softly, grabbing his face. “You keep pushing me away and I don’t know why!” 

His eyes searched yours before he spoke. 

“Tell me you want me to enjoy eating again.” 

“I... what? Frankie, I’m trying to be serious here!” 

“So am I! Say it! If you mean it, say it!” 

“I...” 

“Tell me you want me to eat everything on my plate.”, he growled, reaching around and unbuckling your seat belt. “Tell me you want me to hit my fucking limit every day at dinner.” 

You felt heat pooling in your core. This was the most animated and hottest you’d seen him in so long.  

“I want -” 

“Tell me you wanna watch my clothes get too small again.” 

He pushed you back and crawled up on the bench and shoved his knee right up to your cunt as he hovered over you.  

“Tell me you want a fat guy to fuck you.” 

“I want you to get fat again and fuck me.” 

From the outside, it was clear what was happening in the truck. The door was wide open and your only saving grace was that you were in a parking lot for a nightclub, and it was 2:30 pm. Regardless, Frankie ate you out in the front seat of the car and you finally made it home around 5:00pm – just in time for dinner. 

You made sure he finished everything you made – lasagna of course! Then, instead of Frankie hoisting himself to the couch, he backed you down the hallway to your bedroom.  

“Never wanna go that long again without your pussy on my mouth, princess...” 

You whined as you gripped his full – albeit smaller – belly. He grunted and one of your hands slid down to his hard cock in his jeans.  

“I don’t want these jeans to fit you anymore, Frankie...”, you cooed as you palmed his cock. “Wanna watch you struggle getting them up... got too skinny for me...” 

Frankie made a groaning sound as his eyes rolled and he shoved you onto the bed. You got your clothes off and frantically helped him remove his and you pulled him down on top of you.  

“Fuck! I missed this!”, you growled, biting his ear lobe.  

He shifted and laid on his side and pulled you into a feverish kiss. As your mouths danced, his hand slid between your legs. He groaned again with how wet you were. 

“Can’t wait... need to fuck this pussy... need to feel it, princess.” 

You nodded dumbly, shoving him to his back and crawling onto him. You spat in your hand, gave his cock a few pumps, then positioned yourself over him and sank down.  

You both let out long, low moans, finally feeling like the missing puzzle piece was found. You started moving and his hands gripped your hips, keeping pace. 

“Say it, princess... say it” 

“I’m gonna make you so fat, Frankie...” 

Benny pulled up to your house, determined to find out why Frankie had started coming up with excuses to avoid work outs. It had been almost two months since the last time he showed up and he’d looked like he’d put on a little weight then. 

“Fish? Mouse? Anyone home?”, he yelled, banging on the door. 

Frankie was sitting on the couch, letting dinner settle, and smiled at you then motioned for you to stay seated.  

“I’ll get it.” 

As soon as the door opened, Benny knew exactly why he wasn’t coming to work outs. Frankie’s stuffed belly was almost nearing where it was when Benny started working with him, and the shirt he was wearing looked to be at its maximum tension.  

He grinned and gently elbowed Frankie’s belly. “See you’re putting in a different kind of work, huh, Fish?” 

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi@rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #you ask beefro answers #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!! #🥩 #the catfish & the mouse one shot #thot tank

[capfalcon]

you know, i know a part of season 5 of leverage is eliot teaching parker to love and enjoy food, and i think the origin of that makes me so sad but also so in awe of the character development and world building that leverage had. 

in her “home” warehouse thing, parker only basically had boxes of cereal, and it makes sense. she didn’t have a home. she didn’t have parents who made her food. she was a thief. she was on the run, she probably didn’t have tons of money at any given time, and she never had the time or resources to learn to cook. so what’s easy to eat, reliable, and not very expensive? cereal. all you really need is a bowl and maybe some milk, which she could’ve gotten pretty easily. you don’t even really need the milk, if pressed. and it’s sad, it’s heartbreaking really. because at first, it’s introduced as this funny thing she does, hoarding cereal and only eating that, but it makes perfect sense. she didn’t have anyone cooking her meals, she didn’t have anyone keeping her fed. it was on her to find food, to keep herself alive. so she found a food that she could eat, and she stuck with it. 

in the background of jobs sometimes, we see her eating cereal at nate’s place, etc. and i have so many personal thoughts about this, like nate personally making sure that his place is always stocked for her, and the rest of the crew doing the same. but i also think part of it in my head is about them letting her. letting her come into their spaces and having food for her, and letting her have it, so she’s comfortable.

in relation to eliot teaching her about food, it makes perfect sense that she doesn’t really get it. because what do we always talk about? food being love, right? food relating to family? food being a place to gather? parker never had any of that. any of it. she’s never had that relationship with food or people, at least in the past. to her food is the same as sleep, necessary but not really anything to dwell on. 

and i think, that, more than anything else, to me, encapsulates parker. one of the most heartbreaking scenes in the show for me is the one where parker doesn’t want to turn the orphaned kids over to the government because they’ll be hurt, or “turn out like me (her).” parker knows that she isn’t okay. parker knows that she doesn’t fit in. parker knows all of these things, and she understands the gap between her and “normal” people. and i think that gap is so exquisitely captured in her relationship with food, because food is about so much more than itself, but parker never got to experience that. food is love, and parker never got that growing up. so i think it’s really so important that eliot is the one teaching her about food, because he’s one of the first people that’s truly, really loved her.

#parker #leverage #im CRYING #eliot spencer #parker leverage

[scekrex]

Dont kill me but I got inspiration from ur interaction with someone else oops..

Basically Adam x Male!reader (We love him sm) and reader keeps tryna call Adam cute or some other praises he's not used to

Hes used to being called things like.. Hot,, cool, sexy even,?? I mean he's the "Original dick" and a pretty important person by heavens standards so like he'd def get a lot of compliments like that (Which all boost his ego)

But then you have the reader, (Who's either his boyfriend or husband or something idk you can choose that!) calling him nicknames he's not used to! Like pretty, gorgeous, cute, adorable!! (Handsome, maybe?) I mean he'd act like he hated at first but bro he'd be flustered like crazy after a bit because?? nobody ever called him that before? In his "relationships" (more like flings,,) after Eve he normally was always called praises linked to sex, sexual names etc etc, but those genuine compliments that he KNOWS reader means, and aren't just for sex, he'd be head over HEELS. pls make him be flustered I wanna see flustered Adam so bad💔💔 /nf

Omg I love this soooo much and it only makes sense too? Like ofc he's used to sexual comments and nicknames. But soft ones? No he gets all blushy over 'em. Not that he'd ever admit ofc

'Cause no one saw me the way you did and no one's seen me that way since

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: beta read by @drxgonspine

“C’mon cutie,” you begged in a whiney voice, looking at Adam with desperate eyes. The first man raised an eyebrow at you.

Cutie.

No-one had ever called him cutie before, how was he supposed to react to that?

Should he ignore it? Should he comment on it? If so, how?

He knew how to handle compliments that assured him in his sexual attractiveness, he was used to people giving him nicknames like ‘Hot Stuff’ or ‘Sexy’, some people even casually called him ‘Dickmaster’ which - to be completely fair - had been a little strange in the beginning because it was coming from strangers. But he couldn’t deny that nicknames like those fed his confidence and ego.

Things in the past had always been sexual, the nicknames, the interactions with other people, the way he was treated by others in general. If he didn't know it better he would think of him as some sort of sex icon - and maybe that was how people saw him but he didn’t mind. Sex had never been something bad in Adam’s opinion, quite the opposite was the case, so being seen and thought of as a sex icon was a compliment to him.

But those nicknames you used for him were different. Yes, you did call him ‘Sexy’, you did let him know that he was hot shit and you definitely weren’t hiding the fact that you enjoyed the sex with him. But outside of the bedroom Adam was no longer referred to as Sexy. Outside of the bedroom he was so much more to you than just sexy and hot.

You had called him ‘gorgeous’ and ‘handsome’ way before the two of you started dating, Adam had always been the most beautiful human in your eyes. There simply was no room for a creature more divine, more handsome than the first man himself.

Falling for Adam had been so easy, he made it easy to love him, to adore him. You wanted to give him the world, make sure he had everything he ever wanted. Yes, he acted like a douchebag but that was all it truly was. An act. The real Adam behind this douchebag mask was different.

He struggled with things just like everybody else, he felt sad and hopeless, lost even. Behind the mask of behaving like the greatest human alive was a broken man who just wanted to love and be loved. And while compliments or nicknames like ‘hot’, ‘cool’ and ‘badass bitch’ were fueling his ego, he adored the nicknames you gave him much more. Because you knew him, you had seen him at his best but you had also seen him at his worst and yet you refused to leave his side.

“Don’t fucking call me that, men are not cute. I’m not cute.” Adam decided to comment on the new nickname. His facial expression seemed sour, disgusted even. But deep down inside of him he felt the butterflies in his stomach. You lifted your head from his chest to get a better look at him. You weren’t mad at his comment, instead you had a soft and warm smile on your lips as you booped his nose playfully, “But you are, my love. A cutie through and through."

The brunette turned his head to the side, facing the backrest of the couch he was laying on with you on top of him. “Shut the fuck up,” he mumbled, making it seem as if he hated those soft words of yours with his entire heart. But he didn’t, he couldn’t. Not when your eyes gleamed so bright, so full of honesty. Every single signal your body sent him was telling him that you meant those soft words and that made him unable to hate them.

You carefully scooted closer to his face until your lips reached his jaw. “But I want you to know how I see you, gorgeous,” you hummed against his skin and placed a quick kiss onto his jaw. You felt his skin heating up under your lips and saw the light golden blush that started to bloom on his cheeks. “I want you to know that to me, you’re the most handsome man God ever created and I just know that there is not a single person in this universe that’s more adorable than you,” the words left your lips with ease, it felt natural to share your thoughts with the brunette, to make him feel loved. Because that’s all you wanted, you wanted him to know that you loved him. Not because the sex was good and also not because he was the first man. But because of his personality. You loved Adam because he acted like he did not because of some skill or his status.

Everyone viewed him as someone high and mighty and maybe you did so too - at least a little. But you mainly viewed him for who he was. The caring and loving boyfriend, the clumsy guitarist who could ramble about music all day long, the sassy fuckhead.

The flush on Adam’s cheeks grew stronger and when he turned his head to face you in order to respond you simply silenced him with a soft kiss on the lips. That was also something Adam hadn’t had before you. There had not been softness in his past flings, it had always been rough, rushed and heated.

Your hand gently cupped his face as you partened your lips from his, your thumb tracing over his stubbled chin as you smiled down at him, showing him how happy he made you. “Gold looks good on you, pretty boy,” your words were spoken quietly so that only he would hear them because they were meant for his ears and his ears only - not that there were other people in your house but it felt more private, more intimate. Adam smiled back at you this time, seemingly appreciating the compliment given to him by his boyfriend.

He did not comment on it in a positive way but he also didn’t try to turn his face away again, neither did he shush you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[devoureddreaa]

“true story”

so...eternal sunshine by ariana grande came out, and true story is top 3. (go stream!!! or listen to get the story. either way, it's getting streams :P). but we dropping back 2 back bangers, that's where it's @. hope you enjoooooy!!!

this is a true story about all the lies, he fantasied about you and him.

this is a true story about all the games..you know he plays.

you and megumi were basically, the star couple of your high school. everyone knew him, and everyone knew you; and everybody thought you two were perfect for each other.

and that’s what it was, it was perfect.

until it wasn’t.

until pretty boy here got way too ahead of himself like his father, and tried to play two ball games with one player. that player being himself.

he’d say he’d be out with friends, but he was actually out messing around around with a cheerleader.

megumi’s studying for a major test he has in a week? nah, he’s at a party making out with some girl in the corner.

meanwhile you were at home, thinking your perfect boyfriend was doing what he was telling you.

and when you found out the truth? it hurt, hell yea. but you really didn’t see the point in crying or being hurt, mostly due to the fact that you didn’t do much wrong. and there probably wasn’t anything you could do to prevent it. so, you just removed him on everything..without explanation.

staying with a cheater ain’t gonna happen to you.

it wasn’t what you wanted, nor was it what you needed.

“y/n, you cheated on megumi?”

“what?” you had just gotten to school, and you didn’t even get to rest your ass in the plastic chair before nobara hit you with that jarring sentence. “what are you talking about.?”

“he told everyone that you cheated on him, and that’s why he broke up with you.” your friend shrugged, “i dunno, none of my business.”

your eyebrows furrowed and your fist clenched. no fucking way he was doing this. your head turned to look over to see that megumi was sitting else where surrounded by his friend.

being consoled…

your feet moved before your brain could, and you were on your way over to him.

“yea man, she—”

“you little shit!” you grabbed megumi by the shirt collar and yanked him out of his seat. he could clearly see you were fuming. “you really going around telling people i cheated on you?!”

“cause you did.” megumi chuckled, “no need to get mad at the truth.”

you perked your head up and saw that the entire class was looking at the two of you. some even recording. you scoffed, and dropped megumi back down to where he originally sat. you realized what was happening, he was making you look like the bad guy by getting a reaction outta you in front of everyone. so even if you were to tell your side of the story, the true side, nobody would even try to believe you.

if he wanted you to play the villian, then you’d do that.

“i know how this goes, fushiguro.”

roll the cameras please! cause once the days started to roll, the lies that came out of megumi’s mouth got even more outlandish. it was like people were paying to see this, to see the scene that megun

“yea, she was a slut.”

“she fucked everyone on the football team, maybe even the basketball team with the way y/n is..”

“i doubt she’s a virgin, with the amount of guys i found in her phone.”

the shit almost made you wanna drop out of school. denying it didn’t work whatsoever, it was like everyone was brainwashed. it got to the point where you just started to accept it, and fed into his lies. you played whatever part you needed him too, and that came with spinning the story a bit.

“you’d find somebody else too, gumi’s head game was weak.”

“why would i stay with him when he fucks with cheerleaders? he probably contracted a disease.”

“eh, yuuji’s lowkey better anyways.”

the minute you started talking back, the minute megumi got his balls in a twist.

you closed your locker to look over and see one irritated megumi, “what?”

“what? don’t ‘what’ me, y/n! yknow what you’re doing!” megumi was one laid back person so seeing him start to raise his voice and his face get kinda red, it was laughable.

you shrugged, “doing what? playing my role?”

“what role—”

“look, if your gonna get mad at the truth. you should watch where you lay, fushiguro.”

you thought doing what he wanted would make him feel better. but it obviously didn’t, and it confused you, but you didn’t stop cause he told you to. you were fine being the one he loved to hate, megumi was bothered..and you weren’t.

the next girl he got with (and cheated on), he got caught. no matter how much lying he tried to do, the proof was concrete and undeniable. you explain your story at all, you knew what was true and what wasn’t.

everybody wanted to believe what they heard, no what they were told.

clap it up, clap it up. ya girl hasn’t disappeared for a month, no need for applause! i’m here all night! (LMFOOOAOA). but, love ariana. love, eternal sunshine. go stream it. hope you enjoyed, love ya baaaaiii!!! (if you saw any typos no you didn’t!!!)

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #x reader #fanfic #fushiguro x y/n #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi x you #megumi x y/n

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1 Chapter 7

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Tom sticks his foot in his mouth some? AN: Sorry for the delay, we didn't get home as early as I thought. Chapter 6, Masterlist, Chapter 8

~~~~~~~~~

Dinner time quickly approached, giving Mia and Tom both a break from the awkward small talk. Tom sat on the couch, Sally next to him talking through her favorite movie. A blond haired fairy in green fluttered around the screen while Tom had the origin of the fairy explained to him. 

He didn’t need the lesson in Tinker Bell though, no one did. The whole point of the movie itself was to explain that but Tom was a good sport about it. Mia couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her daughter with what, maybe- if she gave into Tom’s delusion for a second- could be a father figure.

“Mom, what’s for dinner?” Sally’s ability to change trains of thought quickly and rather suddenly seemed to catch Tom off guard but Mia was used to it. 

“I’ll figure something out.” Mia couldn’t commit to anything. 

She had been so focused on surviving the day that she hadn’t thought to pull any meat out to thaw. There were dishes in her sink that were not there when she had left her apartment yet had appeared by some magic before she had returned. The sandwich bread was left open as was the sandwich meat in the refrigerator, leaving both dried out. 

It was disheartening. Money was tight and the kitchen was hardly stocked before she had left. In a ideal world, she should have been surprised that the maintenance staff helped themselves to her food but she wasn’t. It wasn’t the first time it had happened and she was far from the only person it happened to.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Tom had excused himself from the lecture on Tink without Mia noticing. 

“No.” She choked on the word and closed the fridge.

“What’s wrong?” He kept his voice low.

“Nothing.” She lied but he didn’t buy it. 

She was helpless as he opened the fridge to find it nearly empty. The same was said for most of her cabinets and the freezer. “You have no food?” 

“I did- not a lot but it’s fine.” She sighed. “But the maintenance guys used it up. Repairing the AC was hard work and I’m sure they don’t get paid well, they probably needed something for lunch.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Tom was clearly incredulous. “They ate your food?”

“I can’t make it not have happened.” Mia shrugged. “I’ve got a box of Kraft and some cans of peas- It’s better than nothing. I’ll go shopping later.”

“When’s later?” Tom wasn’t letting it go and she wanted to scream. “That’s hardly a nutritious dinner.” 

He didn’t realize it but he was walking a very dangerous line. Mia had spent everything she had to provide for her daughter. While their meals often missed the mark nutritionally, she did the best she could with what she had. 

“Look- if you don’t like it go out to a fancy restaurant or order yourself some take out.” The conversation wasn’t going how Tom wanted it. “I’ll make sure my daughter is fed, don’t worry about that. When I can, I’ll get her better food but she won’t starve. Kraft hasn’t killed a poor kid yet.”

Don’t slam things. Don’t bang things. Don’t snap. Don’t crumble in the face of reality and an empty bank account. Don’t scream. Don’t cry. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

Don’t ask for help.

Never ask for help.

~~~~~<3

Tom ate the overly yellow mac and cheese and too mushy canned vegetables without complaint. He had enough sense to back down in the end. 

It was surprising, if Mia was honest. She had expected him to order himself some take out or order a Lyft to take him to somewhere with proper food. 

Before they knew it, it was time for bath and bed time. Sally had insisted Tom read her the bedtime story. Mia stood in the doorway, an ever present shadow supervising her daughter’s time with the stranger in her home. 

While his velvet voice finished ‘One Fish, Two Fish’ and moved onto the next book in the small stack Sally had gathered up, Mia searched everything she could find about Tom’s background. He surely had people to hide controversies and poor behavior for him but she had to look for any sign that he would be unsafe to have in their home overnight. Every search came up that he was perfectly fine, though a little flirty.

Could that be trusted? Could she trust him?

“Alright.” Mia pocketed her phone and put her hand on the switch. “Tom needs to get his beauty rest so he has the energy to play tomorrow. Us adults don’t have unlimited energy like some kids.”

There was a soft pink light that spilled into the hall from Sally’s room. The pink bulb in her desk lamp provided more than enough light to keep childhood monsters away. Usually, the door would be left creaked open but tonight, Mia closed it.

In her hand she had a string of Christmas bells Sally had refused to part with when it came time to put away the Holiday decorations. Careful to make as little noise as possible, Mia tied the string of bells to the doorknob while trying to ignore the feeling of Tom’s eyes on her.

Sally was a easy sleeper and was probably asleep before the door latched shut. She also tended to sleep through the night and sleep in some in the mornings.

 Mia had little doubt she would have the bells removed before Sally got up in the morning. If the child did wake in the middle of the night for the bathroom or something, she would be amused by the tinkling of the bells when she opened the door. Mia could make up some story of silly fairies and their antics. 

Unlike Sally though, Mia was often a light sleeper. With a stranger in the home, Mia would be even more easy to wake. She hoped she was just being paranoid. 

Really, she probably was, she knew that. But she couldn’t help it.

“Bells?” Tom asked.

“So I know if the door opens.” 

“Is that necessary, really?” 

“If it was, would you honestly tell me?” Mia challenged and Tom had to admit she had a point. Still, the idea of someone being so threatened by his presence as to put a make shift alarm on a child’s door ruffled his feathers. 

Thankfully, he didn’t argue as they made their way back downstairs. 

~~~~~<3

Mia stood and watched as Tom spread out the fuzzy throw blanket on the small couch. He was dedicated to sleeping on it, just as he had said. It was clear as day that it wouldn’t be comfortable for him. The couch wasn’t six feet long or even close to it. He wouldn’t fit.

Sure, he could sleep on the floor but she couldn’t have him do that. Not down stairs. Not sandwiched between the front door with it’s gaps around the poorly hung frame and and the kitchen. 

Tom fluffed the couch cushions and a large stuffed animals. 

“Stop.” Mia failed at hiding her annoyance from her voice. 

“I figured I’d sleep early?” Tom turned to her as he continued to fluff. “For all the excitement of last night- I’m knackered. I figured, lay down, check the emails I’ve been ignoring…” 

“Grab your bag.” This was fucking dumb, she told herself as she grabbed the smaller of his bags and started her way up the stairs. This whole situation was awkward enough as it was. Why not make it just a little worse?

Tom followed her as she marched single mindedly down the hall. She had paused at the stairs to flip off the living room light and again to turn off the light in the stairs. She didn’t stop or look back until she tossed the small carry on bag onto her bed. 

“I’m not following?” Tom carefully set his own bag down on the floor.

“You can’t sleep on the couch.” He started to protest but she spoke over him. “You don’t fit. And the floor isn’t an option either.”

“I’m not going to have you sleeping on the couch in your own home.” 

“I’m not.” She sighed and fluffed blankets just to busy her hands. “We shared a bed last night, didn’t we?”

“As you’ve reminded me multiple times today, we were very drunk.”

“Look- I agreed to give this thing a chance. I don’t think making you break your back sleeping rough when there’s a bed is giving this a chance.” 

“Okay.” He watched her cautiously. “Only if you are sure. I don’t want to rush things before you’re ready.”

“That ship’s already sailed.” Mia mumbled to herself as she walked into the closet portion of the room. “You can put your bags somewhere in here, if you want.” The sentence was finished through a long yawn. Tom was right- between the late night and the hangover exhaustion was quick to set in.

As Mia grabbed a pair of shorts and an over sized shirt from the closet, Tom’s bag unzipped in the room behind her. She came out into the bedroom space to Tom rummaging for a pair of sweatpants. 

“I’ll go change in the bathroom.” Tom shut the bedroom door behind him on his way to the hall. Mia started working the buttons of her shirt. “Oh, shit-” Tom’s voice was cut off by the shutting of the second bathroom door. 

She couldn’t help but smile for just a moment. It was exhausting being on guard, keeping her walls up even as he did everything right all day long. Every so often though, she would find herself caught by the way the sunlight lit up his eyes or the way his voice sounded when he remembered there were two doors to the bathroom. 

There were moments of tenderness he extended toward her that were easy enough to resist- thank you anxiety for that. It could be so easy to just give in and care. 

The moments of every so slight judgement helped too. 

Was there actually judgement though or was she imagining it? No, they had been there. She needed them to be exactly what they felt like, an attack on her parenting and her ability to provide for her daughter.

What made it hard to resist the fairy tale romance he petitioned for that morning was the moments of tenderness she caught sight of with Sally. He was good with her, that much couldn’t be denied. Sure, it’s easy to be easy with a kid on day one as an unknown stranger. How things would go when Sally got really comfortable with him was the real question.

Would he be around long enough for that to happen though? They said they would give this a fair shot but neither had defined what giving it a try looked like. He had to go back to England in a few days or so, didn’t he? 

They would be married legally but what did that really matter? What was that more than a paper? What was that at all?

This was all too confusing. How was she expected to make sense of this fucked up situation? 

A knock on the door between the bathroom and the closet area brought her back to reality. Thinking herself into a circle wouldn’t do any good. 

“Are you decent?”

“Does it matter?” The exhaustion made it hard to keep her thoughts to herself. 

“Why shouldn’t it?” Tom peeked from a cracked door as if that would somehow filter his view, preventing him from seeing anything indecent while letting him evaluate if it was safe to enter the room. “Are you good?”

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

“If you could have any ring, which would you want?” Ton asked in front of the jewelry counter. Everything glittered and was shiny. There were no price tags to be seen. 

“I can’t tell you that!” She giggled, leaning over the counter. Her hair was messy and her lipstick was smudged slightly but to Tom, she was a vision. 

“Why not?” Tom wrapped his warm arm around her and looked over her should at the sea of rings.

“You’re supposed to pick for me.” She teased and so he did. 

He took his time as she fluttered from display to display looking at trinkets. Every ring looked to be either too much for his bride to be or not enough. She was normal but she was lovely. She was natural but she was beautiful. 

“Can I see that one?” Tom pointed to a rose gold band with what looked to be a pile around the top of the band. 

It was small and delicate in his fingers as they held it to him. “We have it in her size.” The staff offered without prompting. 

There was a larger center diamond, sparkling as a traditional center piece. To each side of the larger diamond was a scattering of five smaller diamonds, each getting smaller than the next and looking very much like snowflakes. The band wasn’t crowded with the number of stones and there were bare points between the diamonds. 

“There’s a band that goes with it.” The woman behind the counter supplied, taking the ring from him for a moment. She slipped the tip of her index finger into the rings and lined them up.

The wedding band nestled right against the engagement ring. The band waved against the larger one, reaching down into a delicate point below the large center stone. There were five diamonds on the wedding band. Much like the engagement ring, the diamonds of varying size looked to be scattered like snowfall. The rose gold band was a warm complement to the icy fire of the diamonds. 

Would she like it?

~~~~~<3 Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri, @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72

#tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddelson x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober Day 16: Gurney

Hello everyone, and welcome to the second batch of Finn's Whumptober! This has been in the works for quite a while, and even though it is currently 2:30 am as I am scheduling these I am determined to get them out on time so here we are! Fair warning: this batch has more psychological whump rather than physical!

Taglist! @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @toastingpencils37 @lightning-chicken and @ghostwalloper this is for all of you!

Words: 2.1k

The hospital ceiling was a very odd shade of white.

He didn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, especially with all of the stains along the tiles that he should probably be questioning the origins of. There was something oozing across his chest, warm and sticky, but he didn’t know what it was. Really, he didn’t know anything about what was going on, and was only aware that he was moving because of the ceiling passing by in a blur.

Wait, why was he in the hospital?

He couldn’t remember.

A few minutes ago there had been a small prick in his arm, and even now he could see the thin plastic line extending from a pole on his left that fed into him, but he couldn’t even begin to tell you what was in the small bag hanging above. There was something pressing down on his stomach area, but Jay didn’t feel any pain, only a slight tickling sensation as the person moved their fingers. Whatever he was lying on picked up speed, and he giggled in delight. The fuzzy feeling was addicting, light and airy and for once he didn’t feel like the world was collapsing in on him at any given moment.

“Where we goin’?” he slurred, hand reaching up to try and grab at the tiles. Maybe if he stretched far enough, he would be able to grab one.

Someone pushed his hand back down, and Jay felt quite miffed when the hand did nothing else; the others knew that he liked someone messing with his hands when he was feeling floaty. There were several voices speaking to him, but Jay wasn’t paying attention to a single word they were saying.

He did start paying attention after they tried to put the mask on him.

Twisting his head to the side Jay let out a high whine, fighting against the hand holding his wrist to try and smack the mask away. The hand wouldn’t budge, so Jay tried to bring his other arm up instead, only growing more alarmed when it refused to respond. Some of his awareness was coming back, his body starting to fight against the sleepy haze that he had fallen into.

His family wouldn’t have been holding him down like this, especially when someone was trying to put something over his face.

They wouldn’t have put anything on his face. They knew better.

“No,” he tried to say, pushing against the person, “no, stop, no—”

“Sir,” someone was saying, but he wasn’t listening. The mask was descending, casting a shadow over his face that made his heart stop. He couldn’t get free, one arm held down and the other stuck in place; the only part of his body that he could move was his head, at least until his element started to come alive, flickering and flashing across his skin in time with his stuttering heartbeat. It worked its way through his nerves, waking him up and forcing his brain into overdrive.

Until cold stone settled on his wrist, and all of it fizzled away.

Vengestone. They knew how to contain him.

He was in danger.

Hands settled on either side of his face, pressing in and forcing his head to stay still. Jay cried out, desperately trying to kick his legs or twiist his torso or yank his arm out of the stranger’s grip. Where were the others? Had they been captured? Did they let him get captured?

Did they leave him behind?

Tears sprung to his eyes, flowing down his cheeks as rough fingers caressed his face, but Jay could only tell that they were rough from the shape of their callouses; most of his face was still entirely too numb. He tried to find comfort in the touch but it was too hard when he didn’t recognize who was there; the thought of a stranger putting their hands on his face and anywhere near his mouth made him want to scream, but his vocal cords weren’t working properly.

Pain flared from his abdomen, white-hot and all-consuming, and Jay panicked at the feeling of what he now knew was blood flowing from whatever wound had been inflicted on him, and they wouldn’t even let him sit up to get a look at it. He had no idea how serious it was or how much blood he was losing.

Maybe it wasn’t just the sedative making him dizzy.

A strap was forced over the back of his head after someone lifted it up, and Jay felt like he was a dog being muzzled for bad behavior. Too much like how he had been treated on the Misfortune’s Keep. He was trying to growl, going to bite the fingers closest to him; he clamped down on one and the hands reeled back in surprise once he let go, and Jay saw stars when someone struck him across the face.

They were trying to hurt him.

Where were the others?

Air was being pumped through the mask, cold against Jay’s face as he bucked his head to get it off. There was another small prick in his arm and his eyes grew heavier, but his panic was rising. He wasn’t going to sleep with this—this thing on him; they weren’t putting him to sleep until he knew where he was going. The line connected to his arm was long gone, flung over the side of the gurney in his panic. The pain he had been chasing in an effort to keep himself aware was disappearing like sand through a sieve, and Jay was losing the battle to stay awake.

His elbow bumped against the bar on the side of his bed, and Jay quickly latched onto it, trying to use his leverage to get himself up and out of the bed. But his limbs were turning to jelly, his head swimming in the foggy haze that the sedative brought around. They hadn’t used a high enough dose to knock him out completely, just enough to keep him hovering right there on the edge. Why would they do that? What were they planning to do to him?

Jay hated that it was something that they needed him awake for.

Someone shoved him back down onto the gurney, pressing on his chest and keeping him pinned. Jay punched the arm as best as he could but it was clumsy, and soon enough they had his arms pinned back down to the thin mattress. It didn’t matter how much he struggled or how hard he fought, he couldn’t get free.

Whoever had the bright idea to try and cover his eyes was going to get their nervous system rearranged as soon as he got this vengestone off.

His element was screaming, writhing around under his skin and looking for any way out.

It hurt. It was hurting him. He was too hot and too cold and too hot and too cold and it was too much—

Blanket dropped over his eyes, Jay yelled, kicking at the closest person and feeling his foot connect with someone’s sternum. There were no voices he recognized, panicked chatter and shouting the only sounds he could hear other than the rush of blood through his ears. Someone was yelling for security, another person for more sedative, and Jay would be damned if he was going to let them poke him with anything else. He had to get out.

He had to get out he had to get out he had to get out get out—

“Get away from him!”

Wait, he knew that voice.

It was definitely male, deep and heavy and hitting all the nostalgia spaces in Jay’s brain. A hand lifted the blanket off of his face, and Jay’s vision was flooded with light that framed the stranger’s head like a halo. And Jay sobbed when he realized who it was.

“Cole,” he tried to say, the mask muffling his words. “Cole, Cole—”

“Hold on, bud,” Cole said, and he must’ve been an angel sent from above because he was swiftly taking the mask off of Jay’s face and throwing it to the floor. Jay tried to make his arms cooperate enough to grab his brother’s shirt, wanting to feel the soft fabric in his hands instead of the scratchy sheets or the thin blanket that they had been covering him with. Cole looked angry, but the anger dissipated once he pressed a kiss to Jay’s forehead.

The fear strangling Jay’s windpipe finally started to go away. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Cole said softly, “I know, that’s why I’m here. The others are on their way too, alright? I’m here, I’m right here. But I need you to calm down and stop assaulting the hospital staff.”

“What?” Jay asked, feeling his hands start to go numb as his vision blurred. The second round of sedatives was kicking in and his adrenaline was running out.

“I’m staying with you until you go back to sleep,” Cole said, “but I need you to stay calm and trust me, okay?”

Jay trusted Cole with his life. “Okay.”

“Okay. No more mask, and no more vengestone,” and Jay sighed in relief when Cole took the stone off of his wrist, feeling his lightning come back to life and course through his body. “You’re going to let some of that free before you put the entire south side of Ninjago City in a power outage.”

One of the nurses put her hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Is that safe? He’s dangerous, he could shock us!”

“Well if you had let me come back here when he was first freaking out, then you wouldn’t have that issue,” Cole said harshly, “now step back and let me do my job, because you apparently cam’t do yours.”

The nurse flinched, and all of the medical professionals stepped back with slightly fearful looks. Cole kept his hands on Jay’s shoulders as the blue ninja let his element go wild, his earth grounding the electricity with ease. Jay let his head fall back against the shitty pillow, barely glancing at the bed bar that he had somehow mangled in his thrashing or the few hospital workers nursing their bruises from trying to hold him down. They should’ve known better than to try and restrain a tranined ninja.

“Better?” Cole asked, and Jay was almost too sleepy to answer.

“Yeah,” Jay said, his tongue too large and heavy in his mouth.

“Good,” Cole said, and Jay watched as his brother’s eyes darted down to peek at his stomach. That’s where his wound must’ve been. “That’s not good, though.”

“What isn’t good?” Jay slurred, starting to drift off right then and there. Cole shook his head, lifting up his hand and carding through Jay’s hair. Jay leaned into the touch, attracted to the warmth and the smell of cinnamon that Cole always seemed to carry around with him. It felt good to have his brother right here.

Someone was pushing on his abdomen again, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it had when he was starting to come around. His only indication that they started moving again was the ceiling passing by, slower than they were before but still too fast for his tired brain to focus on one tile in particular. Jay was more than content to let Cole worry about where they were going as the earth ninja was coming with him this time, keeping pace with the gurney as it rolled down the hallway to wherever their destination was.

“Hey, Cole?” Jay tried to say, but even he could tell that it came out as a garbled mess.

Luckily, Cole was more than experienced in Jay-speak. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for saving me,” even if it was just from disgruntled hospital workers who were too stubborn to do their jobs right.

Cole cracked a smile. “Anytime, buddy. You know I’ve always got your back.”

“Can you get my stomach too?” Jay tried to joke, but Cole’s face turned deadly serious.

He must’ve been the one pressing on Jay’s wound, because the pressure increased as if Cole was worried about what was happening. “I’m not letting anything happen to you, Jay. You’re going to be fine.”

Jay hummed. “I know, I’ve got you so I got nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, you still have a lot to worry about,” Cole said, “but you should probably go back to sleep before we have to stitch you up.”

For some reason, stitches didn’t sound as scary as they would’ve if Cole wasn’t here with him. “That’s okay. Sleep sounds nice.”

“Sleep is very nice,” Cole agreed, and Jay was so happy that they were best friends. Brothers.

The thought brought him a fuzzy feeling that was very different from the one the sedative had given him, and he held onto it for as long as it took him to fall asleep.

#ninjago #ninjago jay #finn's writing #ninjago cole #whumptober day 16 #whumptober 2023

[hopefull-mindset]

Labeling it as Abuse Doesn’t Make Sense, Sorry

(Had to unfortunately repost because Tumblr was broken)

In my huge overview of the abuse in BSD, I went over the relationships between the director and Atsushi in both Beast and the main story, as well as Dazai and Akutagawa. Then I went over the Port Mafia’s environment and Kyouka’s abuse being more than just Akutagawa’s doing, fundamentally being structural abuse within a community that condones abuse as a way to teach their subordinates. I went into that frustrated and fed up with how people view abuse, trying my best to go over things people misunderstood the most about how the narrative handled them.

There was one outlier in this discussion, one I was absolutely prepared to have more to speak about, but went out of it confused and underwhelmed because it ended up not being an abusive dynamic. You noticed, right? I didn't mention Mori and Dazai because there was barely anything there to say it was abusive. I still, of course, went over it in my post because still, the point was to go over the misunderstandings. Looking back at that section though, I think I did a poor job really explaining why abuse as a label here doesn't work.

I kept saying that I “didn’t understand why people thought this” and that it “didn't make logical sense for Mori to do certain things” because I thought it was incredibly obvious as someone who has went back and read their scenes together again. I thought that my explanation was enough after all my points I made before that section, but maybe I've underestimated how much this fandom conflated how much evidence they have to say this after reading posts about it.

Do not conflate me saying “its not abusive” to “it didn't have any psychological effect on Dazai”. You can have a messed up relationship with an adult and is not fit to be labeled abusive. I don't regret how I talked about it, I regret not going over how fanon this actually is and expressing my confusion deeper. It's been eating at me and I don't want to overuse the talking point of abuse, but I felt like it. I needed a break from the Oda Sakunosuke research exhaustion.

I don’t want to be a pity party, but as a victim myself, I’m a little aggravated at how loosely “abuse” has been used. I already went over what abuse is in the original post, and I just don’t get what people are seeing when they claim Mori abused him. I'm curious as to why fans are so quick to the take. Is it because they want some unconscious reason as to why Dazai chose to abuse Akutagawa? Is it because since they see the narrative parallels between them and Kyouka, then that must mean Mori had abused Dazai? Strange.

It's popular to compare Yosano’s past circumstances to Dazai’s, and you can see why at a glance. Both are brought into circumstances that are not ideal for a child by Mori, the opposite Demon/Angel motif, have some similarities to Mori himself, and… that's kind of it? Because Mori doesn't treat them the same way and that changes way more than you think it really does about how you label this. Circumstantially, she has more in common with Kyouka and Chuuya, back when he was in the clutches of N.

Yosano was drafted by Mori to utilize her ability in the great war. He dehumanizes her by reducing her to a tool and disregards her feelings for the greater cause he's trying to contribute to. Mori forces her to keep using her ability by shooting Tachihara’s brother and intimidating her to keep doing her job. He installs fear into what could happen if she doesn't heal them, but is further damaged by what happens when she does. While we don't see a lot of what happened during then, we can assume this kept happening until the war ended.

You can pinpoint what makes this situation abusive quite easily:

Disregarding the autonomy of the victim

Uses fear and intimidation tactics

Psychological power dynamic that weighs on the victim

(Assuming so) is repeatedly forced to keep repeating something that causes psychological harm

Though I can absolutely say Yosano is just as much of a victim to the structural abuse of Ability users being targets of the country, like Chuuya, there is primarily one person we can pin her abuse on: Mori, because he was in charge of her and was his primary target. Mori resorts to using abuse because Yosano had too much of a will of her own and was not doing what he needed of her.

That’s Yosano’s situation, now what about Dazai?

As recounted in the Fifteen LN, they met by chance. Someone brought Dazai in after a suicide attempt into his clinic and, for an unknown reason since we don’t actually know anything about the plan itself, Mori asked him to be apart of his new plan to assassinate the old boss that took about maybe a year or so. He was a witness and accomplice to his death, a death that was necessary to the safety of Yokohama. He hadn’t became an official member until he had teamed up with Chuuya and was convinced that maybe he could find a reason to live by joining because of this experience.

As Dazai is pretty much a blank slate with potential in Mori’s eyes, Mori had decided to teach him tactical theory to put his mind to use and had him team up with Chuuya to develop him further with a good influence as Fukuzawa was to him (“A diamond can only polish a diamond”). Mori sees himself in Dazai and wants him to become someone who will be a great right-hand man, but ultimately lets him loose in Dark Era because of his irrational human fears of Dazai killing him one day like he did to the old boss. There could be more reasons to why he did it (Dazai not being a good potential future leader or maybe having to do with the revelation that he did care about Dazai in Beast), but this is what canon has offered us currently.

Already, do you see how differently I summarize their dynamic with Mori? Not because I have any bias views, but because he treats them differently. If I can’t apply even one of the points I brought up that made Yosano’s situation abusive, then I can’t call it that. I’m already struggling to think of a way as to how it could be abusive because that’s all the information we have. It’s not great that Mori taught a child to think like he does, but he’s never conditioned him in a way I’d call abusive like he did to Yosano.

There was no way for him to use fear and intimidation on Dazai without being seen through. It’s not like Dazai had anything he gave worth except Oda and Ango, and he’s never used them as a threat on Dazai. He does not treat Dazai like a tool or ignore his feelings consistently, Dazai has no feelings to any terrible actions he does. He’s Amoral and could care less. He has no psychological control on Dazai, on the contrary, he’s treated as an equal and has not made any attempt to exact any power on him except a professional role as his boss.

Again, listen to me when I say this is not me saying that Dazai isn’t effected by his time in the PM or that Mori treated him like an equal suddenly means that being treated like an adult for the majority of your teenage years is not that bad. It’s incredibly fucked up, but you can’t use abuse to describe it. I didn’t add manipulation or “brought into an endangering environment” to the list because they are points emphasized way too often in the conversation of Dazai being abused. That’s not because I don’t think abuser can’t also do that, but they are tactics that can be used in various situations that aren’t abuse.

Don’t you think it’d be silly for me to say that Dazai is abusing the ADA because he manipulates them into playing their roles or that Kenji is being abused because he’s a kid in an agency that deals with murders and government jobs? Or even apply that logic to most other animes. That’s why I don’t take it seriously when all of a sudden, people are saying Kouyou and Chuuya are victims of Mori. They are absolutely victims of abuse, but Mori?? Just because he’s casually manipulative while also being someone who will use abuse if he thinks it’s necessary? Way to ignore he has genuine bonds with his 2 executives.

The point of what makes what he did to Yosano abusive is that it installed distress into her repetitively. Individually the actions he took weren't abusive by itself, it was the accumulation of what it made her feel. That's why Mori killing the boss in front of Dazai wasn't abusive, it's just fucked. If you were to claim that maybe Mori did something off-screen, then I would have to ask why because the only reason Mori resorted to using abuse was because he needed to snuff out her will and make her into a good tool.

That's the thing, Dazai has no will and is not the way he is because he dislikes the mafia or that Mori tore him down, he's always been that way before meeting him. Unfortunately, he's perfect for the mafia and Mori didn’t need to do crap in this situation. That’s why I genuinely could not say Mori was abusing Chuuya either in my last post.

And before it’s said, It is not a gotcha to say “well he’s a child in a violent environment, so by proxy he’s being abused”. I hope you realize that’s a totally different statement from mori abusing him and claims he’s also a victim of structural abuse Iike Kyouka was, because again, he was like this before the mafia and there would be no need to take action.

Anyway, I just needed to get this off of my chest. Anything I didn’t say was in the original overview. This was not that short, but I felt like ranting a bit. I just really had nothing to talk about regarding any potential abuse happening to Dazai by Mori and I hope this expresses this better? I think their relationship is pretty interesting if you don’t only focus on fan inflated angst that doesn’t exist. The next time I post, I hope it to be an actual analysis and not me ranting in disguise of an analytical breakdown.

There are much more interesting things people can say about the clear development Mori has went through in where he used Yosano like this to how he treats people in the Mafia, and that’s absolutely because of the partnership he had with Fukuzawa. Just, read my original overview okay? I like it better than this one.

#bsd #Bungou stray dogs #mori ougai #osamu dazai #yosano akiko #bsd meta #(?) kind of #it’s just me ranting #okay next post is not an the analysis #I actually felt like doing a one shot! #I think you’re all very silly when you say things about Mori abusing people #when all that’s happening is you taking Mori’s intentions with his manipulation and saying that’s abusive itself #what’s next? Is Beast Dazai abusing everyone??? #I have my thoughts about his relationship with Atsushi #but that’s just silly

[signoraviolettavalery]

Finally posting what is (sort of?) the next part of vampire!Bojan and hunter Jan - I'm skipping over the bits where they're brooding and missing each other after the Big Reveal. I'll post those later but for now I just want to get this posted. It rewrites a scene from an earlier part because of the way it resonates with a later scene (this is what happens when you serialize your work and post in installments as you're writing!)

this part is dark, with trigger warnings for blood and torture, so, ya know, proceed at your own risk

[Kris has noticed the bite mark on Jan’s neck and realized that Bojan fed from his neck]

“It’s fine, I can wear a sexy little scarf,” Jan says.

“that’s not the point and you know it,” Kris snaps. “We have rules for a reason.”

Bojan starts agreeing with him, he got carried away, it was irresponsible and dangerous, he shouldn’t have – but Jan won’t hear it.

“Don’t even start,” he snaps back. “I’m an adult, I can make my own decisions. I chose to trust him, and I was right.”

Kris opens his mouth to argue but Jan plows on. “And I don’t understand why you think Bojan is a ticking time bomb in the first place! He’s never lost control, never hurt anyone, never fed on anyone without permission. Ever. He’s the most disciplined person I’ve ever met, and acting like he’s a second away from killing us all the time isn’t doing anything for his self-worth!”

A heavy silence follows this.

“Jan has a point,” Nace ventures. “I know I’m the newest to all this, but I’ve never been afraid around Bojan.”

“We’re all new to this,” Kris insists. “We don’t know everything about vampires, and we’re under so much more scrutiny now with all our success. If we make a mistake it could end very badly. I just don’t want us to lose what we’ve worked for so hard, or for anything bad to happen. I’m just trying to take precautions.”

“There’s taking precautions and then there’s treating him like he’s radioactive. Maybe let’s act like we’re all adults with self-control and the ability to make our own decisions?”

“Okay. What would you suggest?”

[following this, Bojan discovers Jan is a hunter who originally came undercover to kill him, but then came to care for him. He feels betrayed, asks for space, they're both sad and brood and miss each other].

Jure gets kidnapped, and Bojan gets a very direct message: they’re hunters, and they’ll let Jure go if he surrenders himself.

Bojan doesn’t even give it a second thought. He writes a note to the group, telling them not to come looking for him but to call Jan if Jure doesn’t return safely, and he goes where he’s told.

“Do you think your friend will come? I’d wager 50-50,” one of the hunters ask Jure.

And, as if on cue. Bojan appears. “I’m here,” he says. “Let him go.”

“Guess you lost your bet,” Jure mouths off, despite the knife that’s appeared at his neck. They’re clearly not taking any chances.

“You first. You surrender peacefully and don’t try any funny business, and then we let him go.” The hunter directs this at Bojan, pressing the knife more firmly to Jure’s throat. A bead of blood appears.

“If you kill him, you lose your leverage, and I’ll tear you two to pieces,” Bojan points out. “Let him go.”

“You’re right,” one of the hunters says. “He’s no good to us dead.” He takes the knife away from Jure’s throat – Bojan breathes a sign of relief – and plunges it into his stomach instead.

Jure screams. (It’s a sound Bojan’s never heard before and never wants to again). Bojan screams too. Wants to tear them to pieces, but knows he won’t even get close. There’s two of them, and even with his superhuman abilities, he has no chance of subduing them before the knife does something a little more permanent to Jure.

“This won’t kill him immediately. He’ll bleed out slowly, but your blood can save him. You surrender peacefully and we’ll give it to him. It’s you or him. Choose.”

“I already did!” he practically shouts. “I’m here. What else do you want from me??”

The other hunter – the one who didn’t do the stabbing – throws a pair of silver handcuffs at him. “Put them on,” he says. “Behind your back.”

He knew it was too much to hope for that they’d merely kill him and get it done with. Still, he winces as he picks up the shackles. Silver burns, and though he’s wearing long sleeves, they don’t fully protect him. It’s bearable for now, like a low-level current on his skin, but it’ll get worse with time.

It’s funny how he doesn’t feel different as he manacles click shut. Yet the silver also tempers his abilities, rendering speed and strength like those of a normal human. Practically harmless, with men as trained as these.

He turns around, showing them that he hasn’t cheated, turns back.

“Come here,” they order, and he obeys. Lets himself be shoved unceremoniously to the floor and chained to a pole. Lets them rip open his button-down – the buttons go flying, and a hysterical part of him remembers ripped sleeves and delighted screams – and a knife slices open his chest. He bites back a hiss. The hunter is holding a vial, but the wound heals itself before he gets more than two drops into it. Not nearly enough.

“Hmm. I don’t think the silver tempers healing ability. Let’s try this.”

The next knife is a silver one, and Bojan grits his teeth as it slices him open and burns. This one takes longer to heal – long enough to fill the vial with precious liquid. Which they make no move to give to Jure.

“You have me, just give it to him.” He tries to sound less pleading and more forceful.

One of the hunters shrugs. “He has a few hours left. He’s here to ensure your continued cooperation. But don’t worry, we’ll give it to him before we finish you off.”

“You fuckers. He’s human. Do you get off on this or something?”

They don’t answer, just proceed to what they probably think of as their experiments, which start with a knife in his shoulder, over and over again. It heals every time, but as soon as it does, they plunge it again into the tender, perfectly healed skin until he’s screaming.

And Jure’s still here, across the room, bleeding. Bojan can hear him trying to bite back his whimpers. Wishes he could comfort him.

“He’s dying,” he tries to reason with them. “Please. Just give him my blood.”

“Cooperate, and we will.”

“I am, what else do you want – “

He’s silenced as a silver knife replaces the regular one in his shoulder and he screams again. Soon enough, he’s going to completely lose his voice from the screaming, and the part of him that’s a singer can’t help lamenting it, while the other part of him reminds him that it doesn’t matter anyway, because soon he’ll be dead.

“How’s that feel?”

He just groans.

“You agreed to cooperate. Tell me how that feels.” And he did, and Jure is behind them, lying on the ground now, curled up and whimpering and -

“Like you’re stabbing me with a poker, how do you think it feels?” he spits out. It’s too many words, what with a knife in his chest, and he groans, the room swimming. Blissfully, it’s over for now. He leans his head back and wishes desperately for it to be over. He can feel the wounds healing, slowly, but the memory of the pain stays vivid.

“Please,” he whispers.

“Begging already?” One of them sneers.

“Please. Let him go.” If only Jure is safe, this won’t have been for nothing.

They probably exchange glances – he can’t spare the effort to open his eyes and look – but he can hear footsteps, and a body being unceremoniously shoved.

“Brought you a little treat,” the hunter tells Jure. “Drink up.” The sounds of Jure drinking, presumably healing, and of course, a knife undoing Jure’s bonds.

“Go. Walk a mile west, you’ll find a road and a rest stop. And don’t you even think about playing hero. You’ve seen what we can do. You try to get back in here, we should you in the head.”

Bojan forces his eyes open and his head up.

“Go,” he tells a wide-eyed but definitely no-longer-bleeding Jure. “Leave me. Tell the others I love them, and not to play hero, okay?”

“You fucking monsters,” Jure snarls instead. “Does that look like a monster to you?”

They only shrug. “Go. Or stay, and join him where he’s going. Your choice.”

Bojan’s relieved when Jure chooses the former option. Sinks back, both relieved and resigned. There’s nothing to fight for anymore. If only they’d end it.

“Just finish it already,” he says as they pick up another knife.

“You want a quick ending? All the people you killed didn’t get one, did they? They got to die slowly, while you drained their blood. This is justice for them.”

“I’ve never killed anyone!” he protests uselessly, because clearly his stubbornness will die along with him.

It gets him a knife in the ribs. It’s silver, like a poker inside him, sheer agony, and they leave it there. The room swims again, and he wishes he’d just pass out. He hates his fucking pain tolerance.

“I think you have. Tell me how many.”

“I haven’t – I – fuck – I haven’t.”

He twists the knife and Bojan doesn’t have it in him to be ashamed of how pathetic his scream must sound, ending in a whimper.

“How many?”

“Zero, I swear, zero, I feed but I’ve never killed anybody!”

“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” the other one pipes up. The one with the knife doesn’t seem to agree, but he at least takes it out. His body doesn’t heal, can’t heal anymore, but at least he’s no longer on fire from the inside.

He slumps sideways and wishes he were dead.

Somewhere, an alarm blares, which doesn’t make sense.

“Someone found the perimeter,” the first hunter says, before there’s footsteps and then –

“Don’t shoot. I’m one of yours.”

Jan’s voice.

Jan. Is he, finally, fully delirious? Has the pain driven him mad? And if he’s imagining Jan, why has his mind conjured up a Jan that’s on their side? Is that what his subconscious really thinks?

There is probably clarity in death, he thinks.

“What are you doing here?” one of the hunters demands.

“Heard you were having some fun with a vampire I’d been tracking. You’re having the party without me?”

“You should’ve gotten to him first,” hunter two sneers.

“Or maybe you could let me join for the last bit of fun? This one and me have a bit of a personal history.”

Bojan doesn’t even open his eyes. Doesn’t want to see him, that beloved face looking back at him with empty eyes and a look of hatred.

Why is he surprised? Jan was a hunter above all. And yet Bojan feels his heart break a second time.

It’s a shock when he feels arms shove him upright; his eyes flutter open. And there’s Jan’s face, so dear to him, those deep, dark eyes, but they aren’t dead and full of hatred like he’d feared. They’re not full of – anything.

“You’re late to the party,” he says, bitterness coloring his voice. After everything they’d shared, he wants to throw it back in Jan’s face. “Couldn’t stomach it? Or did you just come to do the honors?” It would be poetic, after all, if Jan was the one to kill him. It’s what he’d intended to from the beginning, wasn’t it?

Jan doesn’t respond. One of his hands is on Bojan’s shoulder, holding him upright as he appears to examine his injuries, but the other is slipping something cold and metallic into his hands.

The key to his handcuffs.

Bojan’s eyes widen in surprise. Surprise that seems to make Jan’s eyes cloud with pain and confusion. Because Jan – Jan thought he’d just been playing along?

He stands, turns to the hunters. “So, what’s next on the menu?”

Bojan desperately undoes the handcuffs while Jan keeps them talking. It’s blissful relief to have the silver off. It doesn’t heal all his wounds, but it gives his body the strength to heal some. Gives his body back strength.

Jan’s eyes meet his. There’s a moment of acknowledgement.

Jan takes one hunter while Bojan lunges desperately at the other with the last of his strength. Grappling with each other, they roll to the ground and stumble back to their feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Bojan sees that Jan has dispatched his opponent quickly.

Bojan’s opponent, however, has a gun that he’s pulled out.

Beyond that, it’s a blur. He registers movement out of the corner of his eye before the gun goes off, the bang too loud in the silence. Then Jan’s body is in front of him, and he’s falling, and Bojan smells blood, and –

With his last ounce of strength, he uses the seconds Jan has bought him to tackle his opponent again, and this time he doesn’t hesitate to snap his neck. Not when Jan’s life is on the line, Jan is bleeding out next to him, and Bojan has spent the last of his strength. He has this one last chance, and beyond it, neither of them will be in any state to fight back.

So, now he’s killed. Ironic, he supposes.

He makes a beeline for Jan, who is on the ground and very much bleeding from a shoulder wound. Cradles his head and mumbles nonsense, Jan’s name and “you’ll be alright, you will, why did you do that?”

“Had to – keep you safe,” Jan mumbles, head lolling.

“No no no, don’t you dare pass out on me, you’re going to be fine, you’re going to take my blood, here – “

“Can’t – need to get the bullet out first – “

“Okay, how do I – “ he looks around. This place is hardly sanitary. There’s certainly no anesthetic, no tools. If there’s an infection, can his blood heal that?

“Get me home,” Jan mumbles. “Nace – getaway car – call him.”

It turns out Jan has a phone on him, and Jan – who’s parked a mile away – is there in minutes. Bojan collapses into the backseat, holding Jan, while Nace disregards all speed limits.  

“Why did you do that?” he asks hysterically, though Jan is hardly lucid enough to give him proper answers. “I can heal. You can’t.”

“Not from a silver bullet, and he’d have aimed for the heart.”

Which means – Jan saved his life. Jan threw himself in front of a bullet without thinking, and it saved his life, and now Jan might not – might not –

“You’re going to make it,” he says firmly. “You’ll be fine, we’re almost there.”

“I know,” Jan agrees. “’s just a flesh wound.”

Nace joins in with the hysterical chuckling at that.

When they arrive, it’s Nace who picks Bojan up, carrying his injured body – so small by comparison to the bassist’s tall frame – bridal style. Jan insists he can walk, stumbles out of the car, and promptly faceplants. It’s Martin who runs forward to support him.

Martin. The last thing he’d said to Jan had been “I don’t care what you do, but bring him back.”

“He’s safe,” is all Jan says to him.

Martin hums in acknowledgement, clearly distracted. He gets Jan inside, but his first priority is Bojan, who’s been deposited on the couch and is attempting to sit up while wincing. And Martin takes it all in - the unbuttoned, bloodstained shirt, and all the still-bleeding wounds scattered around his torso, the angry burns from holy water.

“Mother of god,” he breathes. He’s on his knees, Bojan’s face cradled in his hands. “What did they do to you?”

“Don’t worry, chicks dig guys with scars.” Bojan tries to give a cheeky grin that makes Martin bite back a sob.

“Here.” He offers a wrist. “You need to heal.”

Bojan shakes his head stubbornly. “Is Jan okay? I have to make sure he’s okay.” He looks over to where Jan is being held upright by Nace, while Kris collects what they’ll need to remove the bullet. “Don’t we need anesthetic?” he asks.

Jan shakes his head. “Just give me the whiskey.”

Bojan wants to cry. “You can’t be serious, that’s not – you don’t have to be the tough guy and prove anything!”

“For fuck’s sake, can we stop talking and just get this over with,” Jan growls.

Kris – of steady guitarist fingers – does it. Jan, being a fucking hunter, makes no other sound than a valiant groan, and then passes out. Bojan tries to get up and run over to catch him, but only gets as far as attempting to stand up before he falls back down. It’s Nace who catches him instead.

“He’ll be fine,” Martin insists. “Now drink, because he won’t appreciate it if all his efforts have been for nothing.” He offers a wrist again. “Take as much as you need.”

Bojan takes it, clearly too worn out for protest, though he does add “I need more than one person can give.”

“Good think you’re surrounded by snacks,” Nace grins.

“Did you just call me a snack?” Kris demands.

“In more ways than one,” Nace replies, wiggling his eyebrows.

It’s the lighthearted banter, more than anything else, that soothes Bojan enough that he allows himself to drink.

It’s been a long time since he drank from Martin – now that he’s no longer part of the band – but the taste is familiar and soothing. It’s warmth, home, safety. He wants to drink and drink, and he’s in no state to stop himself, but thankfully Martin is, with that ever-gentle voice saying his name. It takes gargantuan effort, with his body craving the sustenance, but he drags himself away from that sweetness and warmth, only to see Martin looking shaky. It hadn’t seemed like he took that much, but in his state, his ability to judge that is off. And clearly he’s been drinking for long enough that Jan has regained consciousness in that time.

“Here,” Nace is quick to offer. “One gluten free dinner, coming right up.”

Bojan laughs weakly, but isn’t that something? He’s laughing. His friends are here, around him. He’s safe. Jan is safe. They’ll be okay. He feels that hope for the first time, as he takes the proffered wrist and feasts on gluten-free blood. He doesn’t even need Nace’s gentle encouragement to pull away. His injuries have knitted together, but his body is full of the memory of pain, and he doesn’t think that’ll go away for a while. But for now, he’s at least strong enough to walk, to take care of the biggest priority: Jan. Jan, who is still bleeding, teeth gritted, watching him feed attentively.

“Here.” He offers Jan a wrist, even though they still feel raw and he wants to wince as he bites it open, and watches as the healing blood does its work. Jan’s skin knits together perfectly.

“No sexy scar for you,” he says, and Jan chuckles.

Behind them, the others have silently and tactfully made their retreat, leaving the two of them alone for a much needed talk.

“You really thought I was with them? That I’d do that to you?” Jan asks.

“I  - “ Had he really? “I was a bit delirious by that point. Thought you were a hallucination at first, and when you played along – “ he shakes his head. “After what they did to Jure, I didn’t have a lot of trust or hope left over.”

Jan takes his hands. “I’ll never hurt you. I swear. I will always protect you.”

Bojan laughs weakly. "Taking a bullet is an overdramatic way to earn back my trust. Maybe let's not do that again?"

Jan smiles cheekily. “No promises.”

And Bojan cries. The weeks of missing Jan, Jure’s kidnapping, what the hunters did to Jure, what they did to him, almost losing Jan – it’s too much. He buries his head in Jan’s neck and sobs, and Jan holds him while he gets it all out. He soaks Jan’s bloodstained shirt with tears, but what does that matter? “I missed you so much,” he confesses between sobs.

“I missed you too,” Jan admits. “But I’m here, and you’re safe, you’re always safe with me, and I’ll never give you a reason to doubt me again.”

Bojan refuses to let Jan out of his sight that night. They’re all exhausted, worn out, and nothing seems more tempting than collapsing into bed. Bojan refuses to sleep without Jan next to him, curling around him and passing out into a deep, blissfully dreamless sleep.

In the morning, Jan wakes up first. Bojan is still wrapped around him, tight as a barnacle, nose buried in his neck. A year ago, he’d have been terrified by the thought of a vampire’s fangs so close to his jugular while he was unconscious, but now, all he feels is warmth and familiarity and relief. Bojan is here, safe. He hadn’t failed.

He shifts slightly, and Bojan mumbles something in his sleep and clutches him tighter. Jan smiles.

“You’re not a monster,” he tells a sleeping Bojan. “You couldn’t be if you tried. You’re the best man I’ve ever known, and I love you.”

Bojan’s lips curve in a smile. “You love me?” he repeats.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” Jan admits.

Bojan blinks his eyes open. “You don’t want me to know you love me?” he asks. He’s sleep-ruffled and gorgeous and how could Jan ever deny him anything?

“No, I do,” he admits.

It’s strange, to wake up here like this. As if they were simply lovers, nothing chasm between them. Like they did this every morning. The moment hangs heavy between them, and to lighten it, Jan asks “how do you feel?”

Bojan groans, stretching and wincing slightly. “Like I got to be a hunter pincushion a few hours ago,” he admits. Now that Bojan’s not curled around him, Jan can see what look like scars from where he’d been injured, over and over. Perhaps they’ll fade with time – or maybe there’s a limit to even vampire healing.

“In that case, can I offer you breakfast in bed?” Jan suggests, extending a wrist.

Bojan frowns. “You got shot yesterday.”

“And you fed me your blood, so I feel literally better than ever. But you could clearly use some help in that department.”

And for once, Bojan gives in without protest. Leans forward to bite, but by then Jan’s made his decision. He pulls his wrist away, and Bojan pauses, frowns in momentary confusion before he sees Jan tilt his head back, offering his neck.

The moment hangs heavy between them. The last time they’d done this, there were secrets between them. Now, Jan knows Bojan is a vampire, Bojan knows Jan a hunter who’d come here intending to kill him, and they both know Jan offers freely.

Jan can read his face like a book: the hope that this time, this is real. How badly he wants it to be real. He can see the moment when Bojan lets himself have what he wants for once.

He feels the fangs sink into his neck and closes his eyes, relaxing. The bite hurts – nothing a hunter can’t handle, of course, and certainly nothing compared to a bullet through the shoulder – but beyond that, he feels blissfully calm and safe. He likes this, trusting Bojan with his life. Being at his mercy. Bojan will know when to stop. He doesn’t have to worry about it, can just lie here, in the warmest bed he’s ever known, and let the vampire take.

People always think that when a vampire feeds, they’re unaware of how much they’re taking, consumed by the bloodlust until their victim is beyond saving. That’s not true. The blood in Jan’s body sings to him, and as he drinks, there is that savage bloodlust, yes, but he knows how much is still there, calling to him. Can feel the blood pumping through veins, the pulse growing sluggish, unconsciousness coming.

It’s an intimate thing, to feed on someone. The hunters never realize that.

Bojan takes Jan to the edge of consciousness. He can sense it, the lethargy of the limbs, the feeble protests of a human body trying to protect itself. Jan’s eyes are still closed, the hand in his hair making no move to pull him away.

If he kept going, Jan would let him. Would trust him with the point of no return.

That is a moment of revelation. That this is real.

He pulls away and Jan makes a sound of protest. His eyelids are sluggish, slow to open, as Bojan licks the last drops of blood from Jan’s neck– the wound closes neatly, leaving a day-old bite mark – and licks his lips. Jan just smiles dumbly at him.

“I’ve missed this,” he admits.

Bojan frowns.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

Jan gives a small shrug. “Little bit. Worth it, though. I’ve missed being someone you trust enough to show that part of yourself to. Missed trusting you with myself in return.”

And that – that is another revelation. He’d always hated feeding on his friends, felt so guilty about it that he went too long without feeding. The fact that Jan seems to like it is almost incomprehensible to him in this moment. He’s not a burden. He’s loved, trusted – accepted for everything that he is.

“I think it’s your turn for breakfast. Get some vitamins in you after that.”

Jan makes a half-hearted protest, but Bojan’s already out of bed. “I’ll be right back,” he says, making his way to the kitchen with vampire speed.

Where he happens upon Martin, Kris, Jure, and Nace. He’s already opened the fridge and pulled out half a breakfast by the time he registers their presence.

“How are you?” Kris asks.

“Good,” he says, and feels it. Yesterday’s memories are like a fever dream, and he has no doubt they’ll come back to haunt them, but for now he’s clearly repressing them. He probably looks better, too, less pale and half-dead (ha); he can see the others take in his obviously improved appearance, the makings of breakfast he’s holding, and put two and two together.

“Ah,” Kris says. Martin just smiles.

“Yeah, I’ll just – “ Bojan gestures, then speeds out of the kitchen, blushing. Why does it feel like he’s brought a girl home without asking his roommates?

Later that day, he makes his way into the kitchen again, climbs gingerly onto a stool. It’s obvious there’s a lot to discuss, but they wait for him to broach the silence.

“I forgive him,” he says tentatively.

Predictably, Kris frowns. “You’ve been through a lot. You’re not thinking clearly – “

Bojan shakes his head. “That’s not what this is. I stopped being mad at him a long time ago. Mostly I was just grieving, because I missed him and I didn’t know if any of it had been real for him like it was for me. But now I know it was, and I don’t want to waste any more time not having him in my life.”

“Okay,” Nace agrees. “If you can trust him again, I can too.”

“I don’t think I’m capable of trusting anyone after what I’ve been through,” Jure admits softly. “But I missed him too. And I do want him back.”

“I told him to bring you home no matter what he had to do, and he did,” Martin says. “I’ve seen how happy he makes you, how it broke you when he was gone, and what he’s willing to do for you. I think you deserve someone like that in your life.”

“I know he took a bullet for you,” Kris says. “I don’t think he’d hurt you. But that’s not the same as not lying to you. In that department, as far as I’m concerned, he’s on thin ice for now.”

“That’s fair.” Jan’s voice comes from behind them. He’s appeared with catlike silence, but stands in the doorway, hunched and small. He’d clearly showered, hair damp, and is now wearing one of Bojan’s white t-shirts, which leaves the bite mark on his neck starkly visible.

Bojan can see Kris’ eyes find it, his inaudible “oh,” the shift in his expression.

“Welcome back,” Jure offers.

“It’s good to be back,” Jan says. “I missed all of you. I know I didn’t show it the right way, but you’re like family to me. And I’ll earn back your trust.”

#vampire!bojan #poor bojan I feel so bad putting him through all this #this is so rough and unpolished but i just wanna get it posted honestly

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Endure XVII: Armin

Series Synopsis: You and Eren Jaeger have been best friends since the age of two, but the two of you are destined for an inevitable tragedy. The world you have been born into is cruel; it is one where friends are traitors and enemies are allies, one where you find yourself doubting everything you've ever known. In this life, mistakes are fatal, and you must be careful, lest you make one too many.

Chapter Synopsis: A look into Armin Arlert’s thoughts and feelings, as well as the aftermath of the Scouts’ return to Shiganshina.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader, Armin Arlert x Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4.2k

Content Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, sexual abuse (non-explicit), major character death, angst, original characters included

Armin Arlert was a boy surrounded by miracles. He had been saved, time and time again, and he did not know why he deserved it. Was it because he was smart? Was it because he was friends with Eren? He didn’t know.

What he did know was that he was here, and he was alive, and there were so many other people that weren’t. The veterans of the walls. Mr. Orion and Mr. Hannes. Y/N. All of them had died, but he hadn’t yet. There was only one thing he could do with this knowledge: he had to reach the sea.

This burning desire to reach the sea consumed him. It fuelled him, it was the only reason he was able to keep pushing forwards. He would not die until he saw the sea, of that much he was certain. He had to, and not just for himself but for the girl that had believed in him, too.

She was gone now, leaving him behind, so he vowed that he would see the sea for the both of them.

If only he knew the price he would pay to keep that promise.

After battling the Colossal Titan and burning to death, Armin resigned himself to not being able to fulfill his oath. Eren would do it, though. He had faith in Eren, more than he had ever had faith in anybody before. The world went bright and then dark as he was charred to a crisp, but the only thing on his mind was wondering if there was a sea in heaven. Maybe he and Y/N could go to it together.

Yet such a thing was not to be, it seemed. An eternity passed, though it had not felt like more than thirty seconds. Time was a bubble, he had no clue how it passed in that strange grey limbo. He was floating, with no way to tell what was up or down or right or left. Some heaven, if this was truly the afterlife.

He blinked his eyes open, the sun assaulting his vision. It was bright, too bright, his eyes needed time to adjust.

This couldn’t be the afterlife, either, because he was just sitting on Wall Maria, and Eren was running towards him, and Mikasa was crying, so clearly he had somehow survived, though he couldn’t be sure how.

Or could he? There was a new electricity, a kind of power, thrumming through his veins now. It had not been there before. He flexed his fingers thoughtfully, wondering what the source of the energy could possibly be.

“Armin!” Eren shouted, dropping to his knees and hugging him tightly.

“Eren, how did I survive?” he said, slowly hugging his friends back. Eren let out a choked sob.

“You...you weren’t going to. You stupid, brave idiot! We used the serum on you and fed you Bertholdt,” he said.

“Yeah, used it on you instead of Commander Erwin,” Floch scoffed.

“The Captain chose me instead of the Commander? Why?” Armin said.

“He got soft and emotional. He shouldn’t have used it on you,” Floch said.

“He just woke up, Floch. Give it a rest,” Tullia said. Armin could tell she had noticed the tensing of Eren’s muscles and the way Mikasa’s eyes had narrowed. Floch must have as well, for he did not argue, instead looking away, though he muttered something that was most likely snide.

“I couldn’t lose anyone else. Not again,” Eren whispered, hugging Armin tighter. Armin frowned. It had been an emotional choice. Commander Erwin was undoubtedly the better option, wasn’t he? But it remained that he was here and the Commander wasn’t. He should be dead, but he wasn’t, because for the millionth time, Eren had saved him.

“It feels wrong to be going home without you and Y/N,” Eren said, exchanging looks with Mikasa, who was frowning as well. Armin shrugged.

“I still need to rest. I’m in no shape to go anywhere. As for Y/N, well...maybe we can visit her afterwards and tell her what was in the cellar,” he said.

“I think she’d like that,” Eren said quietly.

“I think she would, too,” Mikasa said.

“Then it’s a deal. Go on, now, we can’t exactly tell her if we don’t know ourselves,” Armin said, motioning for his friends to join Captain Levi and Commander Hange in uncovering the secrets of the Jaeger family home.

He would have never expected to hear what they returned with, and he knew that Y/N wouldn’t believe it if she were here. Still, the day after Commander Erwin’s funeral, the three friends made their way to her grave to tell her about the news. In their hands, they held flowers: a campanula from Mikasa, a sunflower from Armin, and a pink camellia from Eren. All three so different, representative of how all three of them had loved her in their own separate, strange little ways.

“After all of this time, we finally found out what’s out there,” Mikasa began, laying her flower down, “Other civilizations. Cities and countries of people that have never even heard of titans.”

“It turns out that all of the titans were once people that belonged to a race of people called Eldians. We Subjects of Ymir, when injected with titan serum made of spinal fluid, turn into mindless titans like the type that terrorized those of us within the walls. Because of this, the Subjects of Ymir are hated and mistreated in the entire world,” Armin said, placing his own flower next to Mikasa’s.

“The titan shifters are weapons of Marley. My father, he was the one that brought the Attack Titan here before feeding himself to me. He got it from a man named Eren Kruger, who gave it to him and told him to save you. Looks like he failed at that, or more like I failed in his place. Regardless, Eren Kruger also told my father that titan shifters only live for thirteen years once they get their titans. It’s the Curse of Ymir; it means I’m only going to live for a few more years no matter what,” Eren said.

“That’s a depressing subject to bring up at her grave! This is supposed to be a happy visit!” Mikasa hissed. Armin knew it was distressing her. After all, in thirteen years, nobody from her childhood would be left. She’d be all alone. Sure, she’d have Sasha and Tullia and Jean and Connie and Marco, but they weren’t the same. They hadn’t been there through the fall of Shiganshina, they hadn’t known her before she was a soldier. Mikasa would be alone indeed, and he wished that there was something he could do to comfort her about the inevitable truth.

“I doubt she cares. After all, she’s dead already. Death should hardly bother her,” Eren said, rolling his eyes.

“Mikasa, it’s not worth it. Besides, she deserves the full truth,” Armin said when the girl opened her mouth to argue.

“Fine. I’m just worried for you guys, that’s all. I don’t want to lose you, either,” she said.

“It doesn’t look like you’ll have much of a choice,” Eren said bitterly.

“Yeah,” she said sadly, “Doesn’t look like it.”

The trio rode back to the castle in record time, not wanting to be late for the awards ceremony but barely making it in time anyways. Captain Levi raised an eyebrow at them as they came rushing into the throne room, skidding into place as Queen Historia entered in her royal finery, the golden crown on her head matching her blonde hair, elegantly twisted into a chignon.

“Almost didn’t make it,” Eren whispered.

“I know!” Armin said, still panting from running through the halls of the castle, his face pink from the exertion.

As Historia went down the line, Armin watched his comrades. Floch glared at him. Jean seemed defeated, his normal smug aura dimmed. Tullia was grim, her brow furrowed as she accepted the medallion. Connie and Sasha’s joking demeanors were gone, and even Marco was not smiling. Mikasa’s face was blank, and Eren looked tired.

Armin gave Historia a friendly nod after kissing her hand, and she gave him an exhausted smile back. Being the queen was weighing down on the girl, he could tell, but what could she do besides grin and bear it?

Next after him was Eren, and later, Armin would point to this moment as being when things went so horribly wrong. As his best friend kissed the girl’s hand, his eyes went wide, and he inhaled sharply, beginning to tremble all over.

“Eren, are you okay?” he hissed. Eren stayed frozen for a second before letting go of Historia and weakly nodding, though it was not convincing anybody.

“It’s nothing,” he said, even though it so obviously wasn’t nothing. Historia moved on to Mikasa, but Armin continued to gaze at Eren in worry. Eren noticed and smiled, though it was more of a grimace, really.

“Seriously, Min-Min. Don’t concern yourself with it.”

And so Armin didn’t, but maybe he should have. If he had tried a little harder, been a little more attentive, would things have gone the way they had? He couldn’t be sure. It was a moot point now, anyways.

Because now, after so many years of dreaming and planning and talking and pining, the Scouts were finally galloping towards the sea. This was it; this was the moment he had been waiting for nearly his entire life. He had been born to see it, been born to reach it.

Do you see me, Y/N? I’m at the sea. The sea that you said was ours and ours alone. I’m here. I did it. Are you happy? Are you proud of me?

The sea was nothing like what he had expected yet everything like he had expected. It was vast and wondrous, the large, shimmering blue expanse stretching as far as the eye could see, just as his book had described. The breeze was salty and cool, blowing his hair back as he stared off the edge of the cliff into the water.

Tying the horses up, the Scouts raced down to the beach, discarding their boots and socks, rolling their pant legs up and feeling the warm sand between their toes as their feet sank into it.

A laugh of sheer delight left Armin as he waded into the water behind Eren, reaching down to pick up a shell and staring at it in wonder. The outside world. So this was what it was like. This was what the titans had been denying them for so long. He laughed again.

“See, Eren? You never believed me, but it’s just as I said it. On the other side of the wall is —”

“On the other side of the wall is the sea,” Eren said, cutting him off. Armin furrowed his brow as the boy continued to speak, “And on the other side of the sea is freedom. We believed that for so long...but it’s not true. What’s waiting for us on the other side of the ocean is the enemy. Everything is as I saw it in my father’s memories, right?”

Everyone was silent, watching as he raised his hand to point at the horizon, giving them all a desperate, pained look. “So if I kill the enemy, the one waiting for me on the other side, will I...finally get to see Y/N again?”

See...Y/N again? Eren, what the hell are you talking about?

Barely any time at all passed from the moment they found the sea to when the first Marleyan ship arrived on their shores. They took the crew members hostage, but it wasn’t enough to deter the rest of them from continuing to come ever closer to the beach.

“Eren, you shift into a titan and carry one of the ships over here. I think we should try to talk this out. We could gain valuable information,” Commander Hange said. Eren nodded dully before walking a safe distance from everyone and biting his hand. The hulking form of the Attack Titan appeared, giving all of them a sharp look with his glowing jade eyes before nodding once and then disappearing to follow Hange’s orders.

The world began to shake as the large titan stomped back towards the rocky outcropping that they were waiting on. Armin covered his ears, wincing at the noise. His friends did the same, and he knew they all didn’t like this any more than he did.

“Hellooooo, Marleyans! It’s a pleasure to meet you all! Your friends from earlier have been quite pleasant, too! Ah, wait, I’m being silly. Let me introduce myself! I’m Hange Zoe, Commander of the Survey Corps. Would you like to come join us for tea? Niccolo thinks our tea is delicious, don’t you?” Commander Hange trilled. Captain Levi poked the blond Marleyan in the back with his blades, and the man whimpered.

“Don’t do it! They’re devils, let me die! Please, Commander, don’t give in!” Niccolo gasped out. Commander Hange gave him a perplexed look.

“Eh? Now what is this?” she said.

“You disgusting devils! No Marleyan would ever associate with the likes of you! Keep your filth to yourself and drink pig-piss with your foul friends, but stay away from us!” the Commander of the ship shouted. Commander Hange gasped in outrage, and Captain Levi seemed similarly irritated, most likely because of the insult to his tea. Armin frowned, watching the display. This wasn’t looking good. If they had any hopes of attempting diplomacy with the countries of the world, they needed to get people on their side, but it seemed the people didn’t even want to try and hear them out.

“Are you sure you should be being rude to us?” Commander Hange said, eye wide in surprise, “Don’t you see the titan behind you?”

The Marleyans whipped around to see Eren’s monstrous titan grinning down at them, his pointed ears pinned back in a gesture that was undoubtedly hostile. His teeth were on full display, and the steam made the glow of his eyes all the more unearthly looking. Eren looked like a creature straight from hell, and if Armin hadn’t known that it was his friend in the titan, he would’ve been terrified. Even with the knowledge that it was just Eren, he could not help but feel a little bit of instinctual fear creep down his spine at the sight.

“I will not be ordered around by some Eldian dog!” the Commander shouted, aiming his gun at Commander Hange, who yelped and ducked behind a rock. Captain Levi did the same, yanking Niccolo down with him as well. Armin and the rest of the 104th were far enough away that they were not in danger, and so they were able to see what happened next without any obstruction.

A blonde soldier cocked their own gun and then pointed it at the Commander before shooting in one swift, fluid, graceful movement. The man keeled over, dead as soon as the bullet entered him. Armin and Mikasa exchanged confused looks. What had just happened?

“Hands up, Yelena! You’re a traitor!” a different soldier said. Yelena, the blonde, nodded at the man. All of a sudden, half of the soldiers broke off from their ranks, restraining the others as if they were enemies, not comrades. A man with dark skin took off his helmet and gave Yelena a meaningful stare.

“That’s all of them,” he said. She gave him a pleased smile before bowing at Commander Hange, who had cautiously peeped her head up to survey the situation.

“Commander Hange! My name is Yelena! I apologize for that man’s rudeness. If you’ll still have me, I’d be delighted to accept your offer! Let’s have tea!” she said.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Tullia muttered.

“So do I, but what choice do we have?” Jean said with a sigh, pulling the girl closer. She groaned, leaning against his chest in defeat.

“I know, but I just don’t trust her. Something about that woman...it’s suspicious. I don’t know what, but I can’t shake off this awful feeling that she’s going to lead to our ruin,” she said.

“I agree with you, Tullia, but like Jean said, we really don’t have many other options. We need to find some way to join the world at large. Yelena and her crew just fell in our lap and seem fairly willing to help us. We’d be foolish to deny them,” Marco said.

“Marco’s right. Still, I wonder...what will their help cost?” Armin said.

The answer, it turned out, was everything. The Anti-Marleyan Volunteers, or so they called themselves, came with news from none other than Zeke Jaeger, the Beast Titan, the reason why Commander Erwin and so many other Scouts were dead. Zeke claimed that he was on their side now, that he wanted to help them rejoin the world.

Yelena spoke of fantastical technology, of aerial warfare and rifles accurate beyond their wildest dreams. She told them about the Rumbling, and though she admitted that she did not know all of Zeke’s plan, she informed them that there were ambassadors that would soon come to explain everything to them in greater detail.

Armin could tell Commander Hange and Captain Levi were reluctant to go along with her, but as the 104th had already established, they had absolutely no choice. The only way to ensure Paradis’s survival was to do this, unwilling though they might be.

And unwilling was the only word to describe Armin as he waded into the vast sea, his beloved sea, this place of peace and freedom and wonder and dreams. The rest of the Marleyan ships were unaware of their demise in the form of a teenage boy, sailing towards the shores placidly. A lone tear slipped down his face.

He was no Eren. He was not a fighter, no force of nature. No, Armin Arlert was a gentle, kind boy, repeatedly chosen by the world to be the recipient of miracles. It was this very gentleness in him that wept, wept for the loss of his humanity and the loss of his goodness.

Because he was no longer a good person, if he had ever been considered such a thing in the first place. He was a monster; a terrible, cruel monster. As he bit his hand and transformed into the Colossal Titan for the first time since the burden had been placed upon him, he cried. As he stepped on the Marleyan ships full of innocent soldiers (was that an oxymoron? Soldiers were not innocent, but Armin wasn’t so sure that he should be allowed to play judge, jury, and executioner), he cried. And as he exited the nape of his enormous titan, the very same titan that had kicked a hole in Wall Maria, destroying his life and home forever, he wondered.

Do you see me, Y/N? I’ve destroyed the sea. The sea that you said was ours and ours alone. I’ve destroyed it. Was it wrong? Are you still...proud of me?

“The ambassadors are finally arriving!” Sasha said excitedly.

“I know, I can’t wait to finally get some answers as to what Zeke’s truly planning. Yelena’s been mostly unhelpful,” Jean said.

“Onyankapon’s a real stand up guy, though,” Connie said with a smirk, “and you’ll not believe what he said.”

“What?” Marco said curiously as they watched the ships reach the newly-constructed Paradis Port.

“One of the ambassadors, the princess of Triura, is hot. Like, smoking-hot. I think if I turn my charm up, I’ll be able to bag myself a royal wife!” Connie said.

“Didn’t he also say she’s engaged?” Tullia said dryly. Connie wilted at this.

“Well, yeah...but that’s because she hasn’t met me yet! I’m sure she’ll leave her fiance once she gets a good look at how absolutely and utterly handsome I am,” he said.

“Try not to creep her out, Connie. We need Triura and Hizuru’s cooperation if we want Zeke’s plan to work,” Eren said. His face was serious as he watched the ships in fascination. Armin had noticed that his friend adored watching ships, even if he had had to destroy many of them.

“I’m not going to creep her out! She’s going to fall for me naturally, just you wait and watch. It’s going to be simple,” Connie said, affronted at the fact that Eren had even considered him being creepy. Armin snickered at this. Connie, for all of his bravado, had never had much luck with girls. Jean had Tullia, Mikasa and Sasha had each other, Historia had had Ymir, Eren had had Y/N, but Connie had never had anyone. Well, to be fair, neither had Armin, but that was a choice Armin made. He was too busy for things like that, though he had been trying to make time to visit Annie recently. He felt bad for the girl, after all, abandoned by her comrades and hated by the people containing her, stuck frozen in a crystal for possibly the rest of her life.

“Connie, she’s engaged to some dude from Marley,” Tullia said.

“Marley? Wonder why she’s helping us, then,” Mikasa said with a frown. Tullia shrugged.

“Who knows? There’s been rumors, though, that they don’t exactly have the happiest relationship. From what Onyankapon told me, she was kind of forced into it,” she said. They all made noises of sympathy.

“Poor princess,” Sasha said, her voice small and sad.

“Yeah, nobody deserves to be forced into a relationship. Hopefully the guy at least treats her well, but...I don’t know. Anybody that’s willing to force a girl to marry them can’t be good news,” Tullia said.

“At least she’s helping us. Maybe we can help her, too,” Marco suggested.

“We should do our best,” Jean said. Armin knew that there was nothing Jean despised more than those that hurt people weaker than them, and he also knew that the lanky boy was already feeling protective and furious for the princess, who he had not yet even met.

“This is it. Time to see if she lives up to the hype,” Connie said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“Connie, you heard about her situation and you’re still going to try and seduce her?” Mikasa scoffed.

“Hey! It’s just more of a reason for her to come to the dark side! The Connie side!” Connie said.

“He’s not wrong there,” Sasha said.

“Now presenting, Lady Kiyomi Azumabito of Hizuru!” a herald shouted. The ambassador from Hizuru was an older woman who smiled at the gathered Scouts before nodding and heading into her carriage, her guards flanking her and ducking in beside her.

“And now, her royal highness, the Princess Y/N L/N of Triura!”

They all froze, their faces going very, very white. It was a coincidence, but far too large of one. Y/N L/N? What were the odds that the princess of Triura had the same name as their long-dead friend?

The princess stepped out of the ship, a different woman beside her, and their doubts were erased. Eren sucked in a breath.

“Long hair that curls at the ends,” he whispered, “Pretty eyes, like the stars.”

It was her. It was Y/N, their Y/N, and she was alive somehow, not dead. Armin gaped at the girl, whose lovely face was serious as she stared at her former comrades, her eyes unreadable.

“I’m hallucinating, right? She’s not really there,” Tullia said, her hands shaking.

“No, she’s there alright,” Jean said.

“Guys, what is going on? Y/N’s the princess?” Connie said.

“Y/N’s the princess,” Eren agreed, a slow smile spreading on his face, “Oh, Sina, Y/N’s the princess. She’s alive. She’s alive!”

He ran towards the girl before anyone could stop him, not that they would have. They leaned forwards in anticipation, wondering how the reunion between the two childhood friends would go. After so long, they were finally together again, as they should be. Armin smiled as he watched. He was a boy often graced by miracles, and it seemed the universe had just granted him one more, bringing his best friend back from the dead for the second time.

“Y/N!” Eren said. Before he could reach her, he was tackled by her guards, who had been glaring at him the entire time, daring him to get close. He struggled against them, but their grip was too strong.

“Let go of me, bastards! Let go, I’ve waited two years for this! Y/N, tell them to let go! Come on, tell them we’re friends!” he said. She frowned at him.

“I’m sorry?” she said. Armin’s heart sank. Was she upset with them for not protecting her from whatever she had had to face at the hands of Reiner and Bertholdt?

“It’s me! Eren! You know me!” he said. The girl looked bewildered.

“No,” Armin breathed, horror filling his entire being. His friends looked confused, but soon they, too, came to understand what he was feeling when Y/N opened her mouth next.

“I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t.”

taglist (send an ask or dm to be added): @futuristicxie

#eren x reader #armin x reader #eren x y/n #armin x y/n #eren x you #armin x you #reader insert #canon au #endure #m1ckeyb3rry writes

[voiddrop]

Eddie Munson with a Cat

So, my good friend @sapphic-florals​ and I were doing our usual, rambling about Eddie Munson and other fandom crushes, when I thought of the idea of giving Eddie a cat. No a totally original idea, but I haven’t seen anyone else talk about Eddie with a cat, usually if they mention him getting a pet they mention a dog. 

So, with my dear friends encouragement, I bring you, my personal headcanons for how Eddie Munson would end up with a kitten. (Ft. a Gender Neutral! Reader)

Content warnings for vague mentions of animals being in bad shape, being sick, ect but nothing too graphic.

I would usually do my whole lay out... but this are some basic headcanons and I just wanna ramble about Eddie with a cute cat for a little while.

There’s definitely a few broods of stray cats that hang around the trailer park, it’s not totally uncommon to see one running around or perched atop someone’s car or trailer. Generally, they’re allowed because they help with any rodent problems. There’s some people that feed them but Eddie wasn’t one of them.

Eddie was definitely the type of person who though he was a ‘dog guy’ and didn’t understand the appeal of cats.

He’s high energy, he’s loud, he’s rambunctious. In his eyes, a dog would match him much better than a cat.

When you talked about your future, it was always: Graduate, get out of Hawkins, move in together, Eddie would focus on his band, and at some point you’d maybe settle down with at least a dog.

Maybe some kids, if you felt so inclined.

That was until you found a small, scrungly little black kitten in the trailer park.

It was late and dark, cold, raining.

Eddie had his leather jacket slung over both of you as you rushed from his van to his trailer.

You heard it before you saw it, the soft cries for help. It was in the grass, absolutely soaked through, tiny and clearly malnourished. A scraggy little black thing with big yellow eyes, missing both of the fur on its tail.

There were no other cats in sight, no sign of a mother, so you ended up scooping it up.

It was too late to take it to the vet, so you brought it inside to try and warm it up, getting some water and tearing up some ham - which the little guy tore into variously.

You decided you’d see if it made it through the night, and then you’d take it to the vet tomorrow.

It took Eddie about an hour to fall absolutely in love with the little guy.

“Black cats are metal, y’know?” He said with a grin, cradling the small ball close to his chest.

He did look adorable, grungy looking man like Eddie, carefully cradling a small kitten.

Eddie decided to name him Ozzy, and he passed out on his bed with the kitten curled up on his chest, you knew right then and there that you wouldn’t be prying that kitten from him any time soon.

Ozzy did well at the vets. Thankfully, you’d found him before he could get too sick, though he was malnourished.

Also, he was actually a she.

“Should we change her name?”

“What? Nah, Ozzy’s a pretty metal name and she deserves a metal name.”

So Ozzy remained Ozzy, and she stayed with Eddie, who she was beyond infatuated with. It was clear to anyone who say them (mostly just you and Wayne) then Eddie was Ozzy’s person.

She followed him everywhere, if she wasn’t curled up on him, she was curled up on his jacket or shirt.

And Eddie immediately went out to buy bulk cat food and everything else he’d need to keep a cat in the trailer.

He’s definitely better at caring for Ozzy then he is himself.

And Ozzy forces him into a routine, because she screams to be fed every morning at seven without fail and it forces Eddie not to skip certain days he usually would - cause he’s up now, might as well go to school.

Ozzy gets better, her fur grows back... and then keeps growing.

Until she is a very regal long-furred black cat that likes to sit on Eddie’s chest like it is her throne and stare down at him.

Also, whenever she abandons him to greet you, Eddie will, every time, without failure, gasp and cry out, “Betrayed by my own flesh and blood. Oz! How could you abandon your father? Does your cruelty know no limits?” Because he is extra like that.

BONUS

Wayne absolutely tried to act disinterested in Ozzy, but then you both caught him petting a sleeping Ozzy who was curled up in his lap while they watched TV.

He loves Ozzy because she makes Eddie happy, and that’s all he wants.

And there we go. I absolutely love this concept and definitely wanna write one-shots or drabbles about it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #Stranger Things #headcanons #eddie munson x reader #Not gender specific #gender neutral reader #reader is gender neautral

[thecameronchronicles]

Nutcracker

TW: Semi-public sexual favors. Smut. Language. Age Gap (reader is above 18). Dirty talk. Cheating.

SUMMARY: An affair with your best friend’s father leaves you feeling a particular way at the theater. 

WORD COUNT: 1900

*Original Concept*

Nutcracker

Being Sarah Cameron’s best friend meant you were an addition to their festive traditions. Making Christmas cookies with Wheezie and her, attending the annual Tree Lighting Festival, and even assisting in decorating their own tree was more than expected every year throughout December. But this year, you couldn’t help but notice a specific set of eyes collecting you from across the room in a way they never had quite before. The focus of the patriarch of the family having made you swallow hard at the hot chocolate you’d made as your own contribution to a movie night of classic movies while huddled up in the matching pajamas your best friend insisted you wear. 

And that focus would be acted on the night you attended The Nutcracker, a play put on in Charleston that was a favor to your entire family at the offering of Rose and Ward themselves. But as it was an event in which you would dress in a silk dress, damning away the innocent frills from the year before as they were exchanged for this mature ensemble complete with the pull of your hair accentuating your neck, you couldn’t help but notice how it affected how his jaw closed, or more specifically how it tensed. 

But you believed it was always a flirtation from behind a line. If not for the difference in age, than for the fact he was married to Rose, who was kind enough, just not enough for Ward. it showed in the way he was ordered and berated by her, his opinions lightened and belittled. Yet, he would wrap his arm around her waist and continue to feign happiness as you saw the true existence behind his tortured eyes. An existence you never imagined would consider you as they had. 

The first act had begun as you found yourself on the edge of the aisle row. The darkened lights of the atmosphere had it the perfect excuse for him to not notice the way your thighs pressed together as he would turn and offer you that warm smile he’d had since you were younger. Only what was once an act of kindness was now an origin for your most lustful of fantasies. But it was also that same cover of darkness that brought his hand at rest to your knee after he had commented how beautiful you looked. A sheepish response of gratitude was weakened further by the feeling of his fingers at rest. 

“I can’t help myself, sweetheart…” He explained, a breath low, as nobody from Rose, who sat at his side, or your family set on the other side of her, had paid any mind to anything but the loud music surrounding you. But before you were able to speak, he set his jacket over your lap and slipped his hand even higher within the slit of your dress. 

“Take them off.” Your eyes widened as his hand came to the back of your neck, a motion that may have been noted by those in the row behind you, and yet nobody would dare make even a scoff, let alone a remark. 

“If I have to ask again, you won’t get to come.” His voice was domineering but still offering you kindness in some way, as you would adjust in your seat. The motions would send Rose offering you a smirk of confirmed comfort as you sent back one rivaling this while you were rushed with guilt. Even if your own selfish thoughts had you at odds with the second matriarch of the Cameron family, you still knew this was wrong and unethical, not to mention the effect it would have if Sarah ever knew. And maybe these thoughts would be enough to keep you reserved to your side of that line. Maybe if his fingers didn’t feel like silk between your thighs. 

“You embarrass me tonight and I’ll have to punish you when we get home,” Your heart skipped a beat at his choice of words, as if you would actually be ‘going home with him’, and even if it was impossible an existence with the reasons aforementioned of prior commitments, you fed into the fantasy as his fingers ran the lines of your sex. 

“And I don’t want to have to…so please don’t make me.”

“Mister Cameron…” Something reminded you of how forbidden this had been, something that brought your hand to his wrist from beneath the jacket as it shifted just slightly to these new movements. 

“Do you think you could get away with wearing a dress like this, easy for me to slip my fingers under just like this or your hair worn up like that so I could take your neck like this,” His hands tightened to the back of your neck, the chill of your skin worsening to this, “You are a beautiful young woman who deserves to feel good…but if you say the word…I. Will. Stop.” You turned to face him, considerable eyes making him glare in skepticism to what he was offering. 

But when your silence had only confirmed the desire he suspected you needed satisfaction to, he would smirk at the way your expression moved from content to desperate as his middle finger made its way inside of you. Your hips were immediate to respond, his touch slow as you’d managed to draw Rose’s attention again. 

“Keep acting like that and you’ll earn yourself an hour on my knee where even the prettiest of lace panties won’t be able to hide how ugly I’ll make your pretty little ass.” The idea was thrilling, almost enough that you wanted TO be punished, enough to understand you were willing to do and be almost anything for him if he were to offer it. 

As a second finger made its way into you, your breath hitched, his fingers setting into a bend that made your eyes roll to the pressure offered inside of you. Never before had such sensations existed throughout your body and you couldn’t tell its origin specifically. You weren’t aware if it had been for the fact it was so risque or from the fingers of someone you’d always held a dirty little fantasy for, maybe even the fact nobody your age had the faintest clue what they were doing by the means of female pleasure. But he did…

“I wish we could be alone so I could kiss every inch of your body…watching it react to me.” You bit your lips together to try and remain quiet as his words acted as an added reverberation to the already sinful slide of his fingers. 

“I wish I could hear those pretty little moans I am earning from you right now…the ones that are making you strain but also behave…because you’re such…a good…girl.” Your eyes rolled completely at the title, your head nodding as it was corrected by his grasp. 

“And I want to reward you…” His thumb now came to your clit, your entire body tensing to the added satisfaction and immediate pleasure this brought to you. And without gaining notice from anyone, he flicked in quick repetition, without falter, as you turned to face him. 

“Be good for me and come on my fingers, sweetheart…let me wear you all night until I can make good on hearing those moans without limitation…let me feel you clench…let me make you come…be so good for me…” He smirked at the end of his words as your hand wrapped dramatically firm around his wrist. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” You spoke softly, a single response still broken by yoru breathlessness and need to cry out. 

“You make one sound and you won’t be able to sit well past the New Year…You’re too pretty to punish, sweet girl…”

“I want…”

“Hmm? What do you want?”

“I want to be punished….” You managed to utter as he would grin widely, withdrawing his fingers and leaving you heaving on the edge of an orgasm you weren’t aware you were that close to until feeling his absence. The sudden rush of applause informing you of his reason behind this, before he turned to face you. 

“Then you’ll wait until the second act to come…Wet…writhing…desperate. But just imagine how good it will feel once you finally soak that seat for me…” He chuckled. “Might even squirt for me…”

“Please…”

“My good girl’s patient, isn’t she?” He suddenly set you in disregard, keeping to his word and not doing as much as even breathing in your direction until the second half of the show would set to begin. But the familiar glide of his fingers would now find your grip harsh. 

“You aren’t very patient?”

“I can’t.” You confessed. 

“You want to ride my hand and imagine my cock? Or is it my tongue or these fingers?” 

“Everything.” He grinned. 

“I never thought you were greedy, sweetheart…”

“Please…” His grin widened as he’d returned to that cover of his jacket, your fingers guiding him back to eradicate the discomfort he had left behind in his absence. 

“If you keep begging like this for me…I’m not going to have any choice but to make you return the favor.” Your hand was eager to do this, finding any excuse to touch him, to reward HIM. But instead, he took hold of it. 

“But just the idea of those perfect hands wrapped around me makes me hard enough to come. And the first time you make me come is going to be with that mouth.” Your breath hitched as his thumb came back to your clit. 

“Or maybe even from behind, bent over my desk?” You clenched around his fingers. 

“The car as I drive you home?” He scoffed. “You ARE a desperate little thing aren’t you? Willing to let me touch you whenever? Wherever?”

“I’m…”

“I know sweetheart…I can feel how close you are…But can you stay quiet for me? Keep being good? MY good girl?” His hold now came to the back of your neck again, carefully slipping a wisp of hair away, before his palm came to a rest to the skin and his fingers ate into the skin itself, all while you answered with a nod. 

“Then come for me-”

Your desperate breaths and any fallen whimpers would be covered by the sounds of the orchestra while you would buckle and tremor beneath him. A release offered by only fingers that the cock or mouth of anyone rivaling him, even applied at the most desperate of attempts, wouldn’t even come close to. And it was a release he continued as his fingers had not relinquished as they continued even through your high. 

“And your reward is that you spend the rest of this night dripping with how you now know I can make you feel. And I am expecting you to come to me when you want it again. Anyone else and you’ll make me have to ensure I’m all you need.” He finally withdrew his touch, bringing your slick to his lips and licking off only the fingertips as you watched in disbelief. 

“And as you know, sweetheart, my methods are thorough…and a girl like you is worth the risk…” He returned his jacket over his own lap as you were forced to spend the rest of the play in the aftermath of his touch. Those flirty glances remaining throughout the night, all while he now wore evidence of what this had done to you at the end of his fingers. 

You would never be able to look at the play the same way again…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love

#ward cameron fanfiction #ward cameron smut #ward cameron #outerbanks #outer banks #obx #outer banks smut #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #Cameron Chronicles Christmas 2022

[burnwater13]

A split image of Luke Skywalker standing just in front of the open blast doors on Moff Gideon's shop and Grogu touching the Mandalorian's helmet on the same bridge. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 8, The Rescue. Calendar from DataWorks.

Original story. Chapter 16. Grogu would like to not like a word.

Knock. Knock, knock.

Hi. It’s Grogu. Can we talk about this? This “One of your kind” thing? It’s come up a couple of times recently and I just want to shut this down once and for all. 

THIS IS MEANINGLESS.

Wow. Thanks. Much appreciated. That felt good.

Listen, we are all unique. Each of us is our own kind. Who we are and who we connect to is our choice. Not anyone else’s. I don’t care how scary or authoritative the Armorer is, she is not the boss of me. She can’t set who my kind is. Only I can. 

And for those of you in the back, I am not talking about deciding that I’m a Twi’lek. I know I’m not a Twi’lek. I don’t have ‘tails’, I’m not really tall, and contrary to popular opinion, everyone does not just fall in love with me. I’m not talking about that.

What I am talking about is that I may have been raised at the Jedi Temple. I may have been trained by many great Jedi masters. I may be able to use the Force as they trained me to. But that doesn’t mean I’m a Jedi. 

At least not any more. I was a Jedi youngling. Past tense. And not recent past either. Nope. That was over half a lifetime ago. I haven’t done the Jedi stuff since then. I had my reasons. They were all good reasons. Don’t bother trying to second guess me. I know where they hide the mythosaur.

This keeps coming up because people use imprecise language, myself included, I’m sorry to say. You see, I hate Gal Basic. I’d much rather speak my own language or Mando’a or even Iktotchi, but right now, I telling my friend, the scribe, what to write. They make choices. But those choices are something I discuss with them in one of those other languages or through the Force. That’s how we do these things.

Now, I’m pretty sure that the Armorer just wanted me to be placed with someone who could keep me safe and fed. So send me to ‘my kind’ was pretty straight forward to them. Maybe. Sorta. Actually, it wasn’t straight forward at all. You see, the Armorer knew that the Jedi had been all but wiped from the face of the galaxy. A lot like the Mandalorians. Which meant she didn’t actually want Din Djarin to give me to some random Jedi he stumbled across. Nope. 

She wanted him to take me home. To the people I am genetically similar to. My home world. Unfortunately, my home world is unknown to me or Din Djarin or anyone else either of us have even met. I can sort of understand the Armorer not knowing that. Maybe.

On the other hand, my home is well known, it’s at the center (pretty close) of the galaxy, and it’s still standing. But somehow, neither the Armorer, nor Din Djarin, ever thought that they could just put me on a passenger ship to Coruscant and call it a day. 

The Temple is still there. More or less. It was the only home I knew for a good chunk of my life. All they had to do was drop me off and I would have been fine. After all, I’m small and I knew my way around the place in a manner that no one else ever did, except maybe Masters Yoda or Yaddle. If you were looking for people like me, they were as close as you were going to get and sadly, they are both gone. One with the Force and all that. 

But the Armorer didn’t send me there. Nope. Din Djarin and I went planet hopping looking for all sorts of needles in all sorts of haystacks. I won’t say it wasn’t exciting. It was. I learned a lot. I even started using the Force again which was pretty handy. Spending time with the Mandalorian helped me see that what I actually wanted was to make my own home and select my own family. I figured that’s what the big guy wanted too or why save me from the client and Dr. Pershing to begin with? 

The two of us got along well, even though he wasn’t a fan of watching me eat frogs and I am certainly not a fan of ration packs and armor polish. But aside from those things, we are very similar. We are both honorable. We keep our word. We help our friends. We hurt people as a last resort. We’re good to critters as long as they aren’t trying to eat us or other people. We pay our debts.

Things were going pretty well until he decided to hand me over to that kid who runs the sleep away camp. I know, I know. Luke Skywalker isn’t just your average kid who grew up on a backwater planet like Tatooine and made good. He got to meet Obi-Wan Kenobi. He trained with Master Yoda. He’s related to Darth Vader. 

Uh… yeah. About that. Darth Vader is Luke’s dad. Strange huh? They were definitely the same kind. But then were they? Vader wasn’t a very nice, friendly, save you from a bunch of scary battle droids kind of guy. Luke clearly was. Vader didn’t make friends. Luke had lots of friends, surprisingly enough, given his wardrobe choices (Dad thing right? Like me and my beskar shirt?). They couldn’t be more different, but they were the same kind. From the same home world. Taught by the same masters. Yet, not really the same at all.

You see how the word just doesn’t help. They are family, for good or bad. Luke chose that. Vader chose that. All I’m really saying is that I chose Din Djarin to be part of my family and I’m not giving him up just because he’s not a Jedi. I’ve made my choice and I’m not going back to Luke’s Jedi Sleep Away Camp and you can’t make me. I have spoken (thanks Kuiil).

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #luke skywalker