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joelsdagger · 2 months

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let it flow | frankie morales x f!reader

read on ao3

pairing: sub!frankie x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 4.4k (i think something possessed me bc this was originally 1k lmao) summary: you start a new form of birth control which has many side effects but frankie takes advantage of one side effect in particular. warnings: canon divergent, established relationship (reader and frankie are married), sub!frankie, soft dom!reader, body worship, pet names, nipple play, mommy kink, lactation kink, mutual masturbation , praise kink, pre-ejaculation, overstimulation, cumplay, cum eating, fluff. No use of Y/N. No physical descriptions of reader. um i think that’s it? *scratches neck* disclaimer: this is literally for shits and giggles bc a friend and i were talking about sub!frankie having a lactation kink, but we weren’t feeling the whole pregnancy trope so i found a loophole hehe. after extensive research, i found that certain types of birth control that include progestin *can* increase lactation as well as breast enlargement and tenderness, so i tweaked this specifically for the purpose of this fic. i don’t study medicine so some of this isn’t 100% accurate so if anything is wrong just remember this is just for horny fun and i changed some things to fit what i was going for. if this piece is not for you, that’s cool, obviously not everyone is gonna be into the same stuff but please just move along and let everyone else enjoy the fun.

a/n: thank you for all the love on my first fic i was so incredibly nervous about it but yall have been so so kind. technically, i told myself i would post this friday for frankie friday, but the longer shit stays in my drafts the more i start to hate it and the urge to scrape everything grows too strong lol. this one is for kat and lyss who gave me this idea and then we screamed about it til 1am. shout out to @skrunkly-scrimblo and @papurgaatika for beta’ing and literally always saving me bc i can never read my fics from start to finish so they always come thru during the editing process. and shout out to my pinterest QUEEN, @aurasjournal, for helping me with the visuals. thanks for reading i hope you like it <3 super cute divider by @saradika

You’re staring back at yourself in the foggy mirror of your bathroom, assessing your breasts, they’re full, heavy and they ache. This is the fourth day in a row of feeling the consequences of your new birth control and the pain has only gotten worse. “The shit we do….fuckin’ birth control,” you mumble under your breath.

You had switched to a different form of birth control earlier in the week, the IUD route wasn’t working out so well for you. For starters, the pain of getting the IUD implanted was unbelievably excruciating and on top of that, you had ParaGard (the copper IUD) implanted which didn’t have hormones so you were still getting your period. Your periods were heavy and painful and you have been seeking an alternative solution to stop them completely. At your last visit with your gynecologist, you both agreed to switch you over to taking birth control pills.

Your physician had informed you that the pill form was a progestin-only contraceptive that would decrease the bleeding during your menstrual cycle or possibly get rid of it completely if you skipped the placebo pills on the last week of your pack. There was one not-so-tiny problem, you were not told that being on the pill would make your tits swell and you sure as hell didn’t know the damn pill would make you lactate.

Earlier today you practically sobbed to your doctor on the phone.

“Doc, sorry to be blunt but my tits fucking hurt,” you cry, tears welling up in your eyes. At this point, the pain had become unbearable.

“That’s pretty normal hun, it’s a common side effect for some women. As I told you on Monday, the use of a hormonal birth control that contains progestin can increase the likelihood of producing breast milk even if you aren’t pregnant. It’s your hormones adjusting to the pill and it’s going to take your body three to four months to adjust,” your doctor explained.

‘Wait three to four months,” you shout, "Doc, you didn’t mention anything about that. What the hell am I supposed to do?” you ask rashly.

Your doctor hesitates, “Well, we could go back to the copper IUD but then-”

“Then, I’d get my period yeah absolutely not,” you frantically cut her off.

“We could book you to come back in and try another route but I’m booked until the end of the month,” she suggests.

“Of course you are, you’re like the only nice physician in the office, everyone wants to see you,” you laugh bitterly.

“There is something else that may help until we can see you in the office...many women have said that it helps,” she says.

You cross an arm around your chest, wincing slightly as your arm presses tightly against your chest, before dropping your arm back down at your side, “Okay…what is it?”

“You could massage them or have your husband stimulate your nipples,” she says nonchalantly.

“Stimulate my nipples?” you hesitate, your eyes widening at her suggestion.

“Yes, have him use his fingers or-”

“You’re not serious?”

Your doctor chuckles at your curiosity, “Yes, nipple stimulation and other sensual activities, can trigger and release the hormone, oxytocin, commonly referred to as the love hormone. Once oxytocin is triggered, your hormone levels are boosted and then it increases arousal and stress relief. Once it's released into the bloodstream, it helps alleviate breast tenderness and breast pain as well assisting with the flow of breast milk so yes, it’ll help.” she says pointedly.

You stare ahead, wide eyed and mouth agape. What the hell are you supposed to say to that?

“Look honey, many women have come in and told me directly that it helps, believe it or not, it even helps induce labor, but that’s beside the point, many women have been in your position and they have reported that it works. So at least try this out, and see how it makes you feel, just until we can get you an appointment and have you come in and then we can try something else. Alright?” she asks.

“Yeah alright, thanks again Doc,” you huff, your hand rubs at your temple before dragging it down your face.

“No problem hun, keep me updated through the portal,” she says.

“Will do,” you hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch.

That was six hours ago and now you’re standing in your bathroom as you wait for the bathtub to fill up. You read online that heat therapy could reduce some of the pain. While your husband was at work, you sprawled yourself out across the couch with a heating pad on your chest. It managed to ease the pain for a bit until the set timer turned the heating pad off and the second you stood up, the pain worsened again.

To be honest, you’re a little embarrassed to bring it up to Frankie. It's not like Frankie won’t want to do it, he’d be very interested but what the hell are you supposed to say to him. Hey honey, my tits hurt and they’re leaking breast milk. Can you play with them a little so they feel better? He loves to engage in a little titty appreciation but this is a whole different ball game. You really aren’t in the mood to have this conversation with Frankie tonight, unsure of how he would react and possibly causing a bigger issue.

You can hear the TV through the bathroom door, Frankie is watching some game. But when he hears you croak out in pain when you remove your bra, hands clutching at your swollen breasts, he moves lightning fast towards the bathroom door.

“Querida, are you alright in there?” he asks through the door, his hand wrapped around the door handle.

You bite down on your lip, sighing before you finally bite the bullet and admit what’s going on. You crack open the door just enough so he can hear you better.

“It’s-,” You let out another exhausted sigh as you rub your temple, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Remember, a few days ago, I went to my gynecologist and we decided to switch birth control methods?” He nods, eyes full of concern.

“The pills are making my hormones go crazy and they’re making my tits swell and well…” you pull the door open to gesture towards your breasts. “I’m like a fucking pregnant woman but without the damn pregnancy,” you grumble.

You immediately clock the worry on his face but Frankie can’t help the fact that he is practically salivating when he looks down at your tits. You notice his jaw slacken, his lips part as he takes in the curve of your breasts, they have grown a noticeable difference in size. You hear him inhale sharply when his stare drops to your nipples, dark and swollen.

Suddenly feeling a little shy under the intensity of his gaze, you bring a hand up to cover your breasts, he inhales once again before speaking, yet you speak before he does, “It’s fine, apparently a bath will help, and I’ve got the water running. I’ll be out in a few minutes babe,” you press, a tight smile on your face.

You see it all over his face, he wants to help but he doesn’t know how. His big, deep brown eyes filled with worry. “Okay baby, I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything,” he says quietly, eyebrows still raised. You can sense the uneasiness in his body language but he doesn’t press the subject.

You thank him and shut the door, hearing him step back towards the bed. You slip off your panties and toss them into the hamper, then step into the hot water, sighing as you dip beneath the water.

After a few short minutes, you slowly bring your hands up to cup your breasts, experimentally kneading them. You press your hands more firmly and you bite down on your lip as you try to muffle a quiet moan. Huh. It does help. You continue toying with them until the water is no longer warm and your fingers become pruny.

Dragging yourself out of the water and stepping out of the tub, you pull the plug out, the water spinning through the drain. Leisurely, you dry yourself off, pull a thin white tank top over your head, and drag a clean pair of blue lace panties over your legs.

As you open the door to let the steam out of the bathroom, you grab your fuzzy robe from the hook behind the door, wrap it around your damp body, and head into the bedroom to catch the rest of the game with your husband.

Yet, to your surprise, you find the TV off and instead see Frankie sitting up in bed, one hand tucked behind his head and the other holding his phone as he squints at the screen.

You chuckle as you walk over to your nightstand. “Thought you were supposed to be wearing your glasses?” You tease, your lips forming into a smile.

“I look dorky with ‘em, ‘sides I don’t need them right now,” he mimics your tone and turns his head to watch as you pump some of your cocoa butter body lotion into your hand and work it into your skin.

“So, I did some googling,” he starts, a sly smirk creeping up onto his face as he continues, “It said…messaging them and sucking on them would help.” His eyes are still on the bare parts of your damp skin, completely enamored by how your skin looks in the dim light of your bedroom.

You tense, hands freezing, streaks of lotion yet to be fully rubbed into your skin, “Baby, that’s ridiculous,” you laugh him off.

“No, I’m serious look,” Frankie sits up and moves across the bed, holding out his phone for you to read the article he was studying beforehand.

“I don’t know about this Frankie,” you shake your head, frowning while you avert your eyes from his.

“Come here,” smirking devilishly as he brings his hands up to your arms, pulling you towards the bed.

“Frankie–” you scoff, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

He tilts his head up to look up at you with those big brown eyes that you often find difficult turning down. “Trust me,” his hands rubbing up and down your arms soothingly.

“You know I do, Frankie, the hell did I marry you for,” you tease, you sneak your hands behind his neck and interlock your fingers as you lean down and press a soft kiss to his head.

“Then c’mere, let me help,” he whispers and it sounds more like a plea. He’s pulling you down onto the bed, guiding you to sit up against the pillows. His hands find your robe, untying the knot in the soft belt across your waist. You lean forward slightly while he pulls your robe off slowly, his eyes watching your face, searching for any indication to stop but he doesn’t find any.

He tosses the robe behind him on the bed as he leans down over you, nudging your legs open as he settles himself between your legs. He brings his hands back up to the thin material of your tank top, cupping your tender breasts in his large hands.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect, fuck–, so pretty baby,” he babbles lowly, goosebumps erupt on your skin, even after years of being married to him he still knows exactly what to say to make you feel so desirable.

He gently squeezes your breasts, his thumb sweeps over your nipple back and forth, you whine softly as your hands find his hair, burying your fingers in his curls. It hurts but it’s pleasurable, the pressure he’s using feels better than what you were doing earlier in the bath.

Frankie pinches your covered nipples between his rough fingers, hardening under his touch, you hiss when he tweaks them tightly, Frankie pauses, his eyes meet yours for a moment, “it’s okay–feels good, keep going,” you whisper to him.

He brings his mouth down to one of your nipples and sucks it through the material with his other hand still fondling your other nipple. “Fuck– that feels good Frankie,” you moan, he whimpers lowly and feels his cock twitch in his boxers. Your eyes roll back in your head, your mouth falls open and he hollows his cheeks, sucking harder around your nipple.

His mouth lets go of your breast, you look down to see the wet patch that formed over your peaked-covered nipple before he hastily pulls the tank top over your head, tossing it onto the floor, Frankie lets out a shameless groan when his eyes hungrily lock on your bare chest like a missile to a target.

He leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your breast. You feel the warmth of his breath over your breast, a tingling sensation sneaks down your body. His hot mouth closes around your pebbled nipple.

“Shit, Frankie,” you arch further into his mouth, and he moans and his tongue flicks up against your peaked nipple, and then he bites down softly, his eyes open, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Frankie feels a slight warm gush fill his mouth, his eyes slip closed, whimpering around the bud.

You tug on Frankie’s hair, pulling his mouth away from you, your stomach twisting at his reaction when he feels the gush of liquid filling his mouth. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would happen-”

“Baby, hey, it’s okay. I was just surprised-”

“No I know, it’s just gross,” you frown, feeling the pang of embarrassment in your belly.

“It’s not–it’s not gross. I–I liked it,” Frankie says sheepishly.

“Really?” you ask softly.

He laughs lightly and leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth then another just below your jaw. His beard scraping along your skin as he places wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck, all the way down past your collarbones until he reaches the valley of your breasts once again.

“Relax baby, I got ya,” he whispers against your skin.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your head falls back against the headboard, and your hand comes up to the nape of his neck, petting at his long brown curls. He ducks down to bring his mouth to your nipple, he parts his lips around the bud, his tongue circling around the bud a few times, licking at your nipple, he closes his lips and sucks softly before tugging it between his teeth, he hums around it, making you grasp at the sheets beneath you, a low ache building in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s it baby boy,” you say softly, petting his hair. You open your eyes when you feel him press his cock against your leg, his cock stirring in his boxers at your praise.

He’s loving this, loves the taste of you and loves how good he’s making you feel.

His hand palms your other breast, squeezing and kneading the meat of your tit, beads of milk collecting at the peak. He takes your nipple in between his calloused fingers and pinches it harder between his index and middle finger, the milk pours out from the bud down his hand and onto his forearm.

Frankie feels the warm liquid on his arm, his mouth letting go of your breast, his pupils full of lust never leaving your face as he lifts his left hand up and licks a long slow, thick stripe from his forearm up his hand. Your mouth falls open and your chest heaves at the sight.

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he groans, his eyes closing at the taste of you. His cock twitches against your leg, now painfully hard in his boxers.

He dips his head back down and licks up the milk leaking down your torso up to your nipple. He moans once his hot mouth latches around the stiff peak and his tongue swirls around it. He laps up the warm white liquid he’s sucking out of your breast. “There you go baby, just like that,” you sigh, closing your eyes and your head falls back against the headboard.

One of his knees perches onto your leg, he grinds his cock against the meat of your thigh, he moans deeply, his fingers digging into the flesh of your breasts. “So, needy for me huh, baby boy,” you tut, gripping firmly onto his soft curls.

He whines quietly, and unbeknownst to Frankie, he starts rutting his hard length against your leg in slow, shallow thrusts, you feel a rumble of a moan in his throat around your nipple. At the sudden movement, your head snaps up to see your husband getting himself off against your body, his teeth sinking into your breast.

You’ve never seen him like this before, he’s insatiable and relentless and it makes your pussy pulse and clench around nothing.

“Ohhh that’s it– good boy Frankie,” you moan breathlessly, feeling him suck harder on your breast with a deep groan.

You grab at Frankie’s hair again, your hand combs his hair back while tugging at his hair, gently pulling his head back and he whines loudly when you pull his mouth away from your breast. You catch a glistening sheen on his lips when you direct his head to your other breast.

Your eyes meet his dark, blown out pupils as your thumb rubs his cheek down to the corner of his mouth. You thumb the bottom of his plump, soft lip, wiping the milk off of his mouth. Your thumb slips between his lips and you whisper, “Who’s my good boy?”

He shivers beneath your touch, “I am,” he murmurs softly, his head resting down on your chest once again. Your hand cradles his head and you move your hand down along his head to cup his face.

You watch your husband’s eyes shut as he closes his mouth around your nipple and continues suckling from your breast, “Fuck– Frankie, keep going,” you pant into his hair, your hands still toying with his curls, eliciting another whine from him.

He shifts and begins fucking himself into the mattress once again, seeking any type of friction possible.

Watching your husband getting himself off to your body sends a sharp, hot spark of arousal down your spine straight to your core, your pussy throbbing and your panties now wet and sticky with your slick.

You smirk and bring your lips down to his ear, whispering the word that you know lights a fire within him. “You’re making mommy feel so good baby,” and Frankie whimpers, his mouth swallowing your breast whole, his hips grinding down faster into the mattress.

“That’s it, baby, atta boy, such a good boy for mommy,” you coo into his ear. Frankie lets out a high-pitched whine, his hips stuttering and groaning when he feels himself spilling out all over the inside of his boxers. Your mouth falls open, your eyes wide as you stare at him, realizing he just came simply from putting his mouth on you.

His hips shudder, occasionally jerking erratically, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he hisses from overstimulation, you continue whispering praises into his ears.

While his mouth works on relieving your breast you take matters into your own hands, bringing your fingers down to your neglected cunt. You press your fingers into your covered slit, feeling the wetness of your pussy through the material before pushing your panties to the side. You move your fingers to your throbbing clit, circling eagerly while his tongue swirls over your nipple.

He bites down on the bud a little more harshly, feeling another gush of warm liquid in his mouth, “tastes so good mi corozòn,” he whimpers against your breast, closing his eyes while his teeth nip at the wet bud.

Feeling a cooling wetness from his eyes seeping onto your breast, you briefly look down to find tears stinging his eyes from the pleasure, the teeth marks on your nipples, your skin all wet and red from his mouth.

He continues sucking at your breast, licking up the sweet taste of you into his mouth and moaning around your nipple, savoring the taste.

You slip your fingers into your wet heat with a moan. “So good, Frankie, ohhh– you’re doing so well for mommy,” you gasp out while grinding your hips up into your own hand. He whimpers, his cock twitches, throbbing lightly against the mattress, he’s getting hard just from hearing that word once again.

Your other hand roughly tugs on Frankie’s soft locks, pushing his head further into you, swallowing more of your breast into his mouth.

Frankie was too far gone to notice, but you realize he’s grinding himself into the bed once again, still moaning and whimpering into your tender flesh. You thrust your fingers into your pussy, timing them to Frankie’s thrusts into the bed, the wet squelch from your fingers thrusting in and out obscenely echoes in your bedroom.

“That’s perfect, Frankie— don– don’t stop…shit. I’m so close–” You curl your fingers inside yourself, petting at the spongy spot deep inside while his teeth nip and lick and suck at your tit.

You shout Frankie’s name as your back arches off the bed, legs shaking around Frankie’s body when your orgasm finally sweeps over you.

He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, moving fast to sit up and back on his knees, his hands making quick work of pulling off his underwear. His cock bobs up against the soft swell of his stomach. He hisses when he wraps a large hand around the girth and he thumbs the wide blunt of his tip smearing the beads of pearly white dribbling out from the slit.

Your tongue pokes out, licking your bottom lip before biting down on the flesh. Your hands massage your breasts, your fingers pinching your erect, sensitive nipples under Frankie’s fucked out gaze.

Desperately, he fists his cock over your figure. “Come, baby. Be a good boy and come for mommy,” you order him while staring into his eyes, dark and dilated, his mouth hanging open as he strokes his cock.

Your low voice and your words are all he needs to bring him over the edge. The thrusting of his hips gets more erratic as he jacks his cock tighter in his hand and increases the pace, the wet, lewd slap from his strokes gets louder, his whimpers and pants filling the otherwise quiet room.

“There you go, atta boy, give it to me Frankie, let it out," you encourage him softly.

Your eyes watch the muscles in his soft belly tighten and his thighs tensing up, his moans growing louder and louder and louder, his eyes roll back into his head, “Fuck– mami,” a long drawn out, agonizing groan slipping past his lips, you watch as his cock twitches in his hand, his hips stammer as long, thick, warm ropes of cum paint your stomach.

“That’s it baby, just like that, you did so good. So good Frankie,” you murmur. He opens his eyes and looks back down at you, still catching his breath while he watches the last of his cum spill onto your swollen breasts, he groans seeing the marks he’s left on your skin. Your tits are covered in splotches of red and teeth marks from his mouth, his come and the milk from your breasts leaking down your chest and onto your stomach.

His hair is a mess, his pupils are blown out, he looks completely in a haze, utterly fucked out. You smirk up at him and click your tongue, “You made such a mess on mommy, Frankie.”

His cheeks warm, the redness creeping down his neck and chest, he’s embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he mumbles, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

You move your fingers down your stomach, gathering his cum onto your fingers, “Don’t get shy on me now, come here my love,” your other hand reaches for him.

He crawls up towards your side, you slip a coated finger into your mouth and you close your eyes and hum. Frankie curses quietly to himself, seeing your pearly-covered finger slipping into your mouth and back out devoid of sheen.

You bring a finger up to his mouth, your fingertip pressing against his lips, “open,” you order. You take advantage of his jaw slackening, sticking your glossy finger into his mouth and his lips close around your digit. You feel his tongue flatten underneath your finger then swirls it around your finger as he sucks it clean, he closes his eyes, his brows furrow, and he moans at the salty taste.

“See, I keep telling you, you taste good, sweetheart,” you smile down at him, tucking a single brown lock behind his ear.

“You did so good for me baby, made me feel so good,” you tell him while holding his patchy-bearded face. He chuckles timidly before pressing his lips to yours, licking behind your teeth, tasting himself in your mouth and mumbles a faint I love you against your lips.

Frankie pecks your lips again before sitting up and walking over to the bathroom. You hear him flick the light on and the tap turning on and off while your eyes drift shut. You feel the warm wet rag dragging across your tummy and your tits, and then down between your folds as he cleans you up with tenderness.

You open your eyes again when you hear him pad off towards the bathroom once more, watching him toss the washcloth back in the bathroom before he tucks himself into your side and nuzzles his face into the valley of your breasts, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling your skin.

Frankie’s low voice breaks the comfortable silence, “Next time it hurts, you tell me cariño, ‘m more than happy to do that again,” he says shyly, feeling the smile on his face against your chest.

You fail to suppress your giggle, “Yeah, you enjoyed yourself didn’t you, sweet boy?” Your fingers run through his long soft brown curls, your fingertips grazing down his neck, a hint of sweat at the end of his hair along the back of his neck.

“Mhm,” he hums, and you grin into his hair, pressing your lips to his messy curls, your eyelids heavy with sleep. He feels your fingers still, Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, “Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re not done mi vida, I still need to make you come again.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #sub!frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #noelle's workshop #noelle writes

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kybercvnt · 2 years

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You Look Cold.

Pairing – Anakin Skywalker x GN!Reader

Summary – You and Anakin are on a Jedi mission to snoop out the Separatists, but what you don't expect is to find the warmth you needed on one of your coldest missions.

Word Count – 1354

Warnings – Angst?, near-death, hypothermia, swearing

A/N – I've been saving this one for a rainy day but now I think is the best time to let it free from my drafts after not posting a story for a whole week.

Perhaps this idea of a stakeout on a dry, frozen planet wasn’t the best. You had been expecting the arrival of a fearsome Dooku and one of his many new Separatist apprentices in the darkness of the night, but what you hadn’t expected was the planet’s drastic change in the temperature. The sun was the one star keeping you warm, and now the bitterness of the cold nipped at your fingertips, and it was only late evening.

You and Anakin had been sent to spy on the Sith Lord atop the ridges of their supposed “secret” base but had not been forewarned at the gradual descent in temperature. No extra layers, no questions, and no preparation for your impromptu visit. Obi-Wan had the fortune of not being able to join you both on your scout and instead had requested to stay back and wait for Anakin’s signal to fly down with their army of clones and attack when they least expected it.

Anakin was diligently keeping a watchful eye at the edge of the cliff face, whilst you were trying to forcefully stretch your robes around your shivering body. You earlier asked Anakin if there was any slim chance you would be able to light a fire to keep yourself from earning yourself purple phalanges, but Anakin persisted it would “expose our location.” Anything for the Jedi Order, you suppose.

Anakin had never shown much affection to you as he considered that you were just another Jedi doing your job in the war. It didn’t bother you that much, he had his priorities, and you had yours. Every Jedi had vowed to put their duties and efforts for the war in front of personal desires. It would have been easy, if you hadn’t had the fattest crush on him.

You wanted to twirl his brown hair around your fingers, rest your body on his firm chest, and simply hold him for a while. You knew Anakin had quirks, he was sensitive and had outbursts at his temperaments. You couldn’t think about your adornment for the knight right now, you could only wish that the rage that boiled inside of was hot enough to keep you warm.

Anakin was fairly larger than you and much better trained. His endurance and size allowed him to feel the cold, but not quiver at the sensation as majorly as you. You knew though, that he couldn’t keep up this facade of being a strong and resistant fighter for much longer. He would soon be in your position and consider putting the mission in jeopardy for a fire.

While he kept a lookout, waiting for the dark leaders to leave the safety of their base, you continued to shudder and rock, wiggling your toes and trying your hardest not to succumb to the cold. Your hood was raised over your head, but the skin on your face had the greatest exposure, and you felt your nose start to leak.

“Still no sign of them.” He told you, but once he turned to face you, he was met with a near-corpse body. You had stopped your jittering, instead, your teeth chattered rapidly. Your cheeks and nose had a colouration that was vastly different from the rest of your skin. You didn’t look him in the eyes because you were too zoned out, staring at the pebbles and rocks of dust.

“You look cold.” He called out to you, but you omitted no movements. He ran up to you in panic, immediately draping your cold form under his robe and forcing you into his body. If it weren’t for the fact your consciousness was slowly leaving you, you might’ve been a little flustered, but now the rosiness on your cheeks was enough to blame on the cold. He pressed your face into his neck, he was surprisingly warm (it must’ve been the rage all along). He didn’t grimace when your wet nose made contact with his dry skin, but he did grimace at the freezing feeling of your skin. The slight warmth he provided gave you enough energy to rasp out a few words.

“No… sh-shit…” He cradled you, and you revelled in his touch. It didn’t stop the tingling in your legs when you tried to move them, and your fingers felt so brittle they might snap off. He quietly shushed you and pulled you onto the earth, you both lying on the ground with him hugging you tightly. This was a feeling you had always wanted, but not in such dire circumstances might they be a little bit romantic.

With your nose still squished against his neck, you could only make out the sound of the rustling of fabric. You weren’t sure what you were hearing, but once warm hands found your own icy ones, you couldn’t help but smile into his neck.

“Fuck, you should’ve said something sooner.” He scolded you. You wanted to laugh, but your body was too void of energy to do anything unless it was minor.

“I didn’t… want to worry… you… The missi…” You were quiet, conserving your energy as best you could.

“Fuck the mission. You’re worth more than some Sith scum.” He barked, and there was that bitter Anakin you knew and loved.

“If I die…” You started.

“You’re not going to die! I won’t let that happen.” He was truly sensitive. He was still a young boy who had lost too many people in his life, thrust into a war and is claimed to be the “chosen one.” You heard that he had too much to handle at such a young age that you didn’t want to press him into telling you more, not wanting to ignite the everlasting spark that might end in a catastrophic cataclysm.

“If I die… I’ve always liked you, Ani… I just wanted you to know.” He didn’t retaliate or say anything in return, he just kept you pressed against him. Until he thought it was long enough and he tilted your head upwards at him slowly. Your half-lidded eyes stared up at him, you didn’t want him to see you this weak. He wouldn’t have thought to see you as weak, and your awaited response was reciprocated in a warm kiss.

Your lips were chapped from the constant heavy and jagged mouth-breathing your lifeless body had defaulted to. When he pulled his lips back from yours, shocked at your icy skin, you gave him no response, at all. Your eyes closed and your breathing softened, you finally succumbed to the cold and blacked out.

You couldn’t tell, but at the same time, Anakin heard faint voices coming from below the cliff. He didn’t dare leave your side, and instead reached for his comms and spoke into it.

“Obi-Wan, they’re out, and please send medical help. Immediately.” It only took half a minute before a dozen ships flew down to meet the Sith Lord. You were quickly brisked away for support, and Anakin was anxious throughout the attack.

You woke up in a Coruscanti medical bay, far warmer than you last remembered. You looked to your side to see a very relieved Anakin standing over you. His eyes were red like he had been crying, he was always such a sensitive boy.

“Thank the stars you’re okay. You scared me back there!” He scolded you once again, unknowing where to direct his frustrations. His clamour made you want to laugh, but you had enough energy that you could actually let out a small chuckle, so you did.

“I’d do it more often… If it meant I got that much attention.” He made a small laugh in return, and you swore you could see a tear glisten down the side of his cheek. He leaned in over you, connecting your lips together.

“You don’t have to risk your life for it.” He breathed over your now warm lips, “just ask.” he whispered and reconnected your lips again once more. You smiled against his lips, your heart flipping in your chest at the realisation that the man you admired for a long time, finally loved you back.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x gender neutral reader #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n #anakin x you #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars imagine #star wars x y/n #my fics

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loversj0y · 9 months

Text

our young nation

wilbur soot x gn! reader (note: pronouns are gn but reader is afab)

TWs: WAR, DEPICTIONS OF WOUNDS, BIRTH, PREGNANCY, ONE LINE ABT PERIODS, TALKS OF ILLNESS, MENTIONS OF DYING, SEMI-REALISTIC APPROACH TO WAR

word count: 10.7k

note: this has not been edited at all. i dont know a lot about war, but i do know hamilton and mockingjay, so. theres that. there's a playlist for this fic as well if you want to listen to what i listened to (also if this formats weirdly lmk and ill post it on ao3). have fun reading :) title is taken from dear theodosia from hamilton fic playlist

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @melunnek

Doing new things was never easy. There were always some hiccups, some strifes, some things that just kept new things from working out just as perfectly as you’d hoped. Not all these hiccups were bad per se, but they were there. Occam’s razor be damned, sometimes things are harder than they are easier.

Those hiccups might be the death of one Wilbur Soot. Mostly because, in this case, the things occurring lean far more toward the “strife” category than the “hiccup” category.

Literally.

The newness of his formed country was refreshing, L’Manburg was already growing to become a beautiful nation, just from the camaraderie seen within its walls. But the beauty of their forming country was contrasted by the growing issues of war and hardships afflicting his citizens.

So yes, war was hard. New things were hard, but they were often necessary and they often brought new, better things.

And then, of course, there was the flickering candle light in the middle of the destitute tunnel that categorized war: Love.

You weren’t originally planning to be involved in the war at all. When Wilbur had come to your door, asking about volunteering for the war, you’d politely turned him down. You made it very clear how much you supported the war efforts, and how, though you couldn’t fight, you’d be willing to help out the war efforts in any way you could.

Wilbur gave you a charming smile and let you know that your support was greatly appreciated.

Which was how you became his aid. For the leader of the rebellion, he was rather disorganized, in a literal sense, seen in the numerous papers and half-finished rations littering his desk, as well as a figurative sense, with the desk becoming a mirror image of his own mind. You helped clear the scatter, in both senses. When he’d pass out writing his pages and pages on new injustices committed by the Greater SMP, you’d be there to save his place and clear the desk.

Eventually, you were able to do far more than just clear the desk; you were able to clear his mind.

It started in conversations, when he’d ask questions aloud to himself without realizing you were in the room.

“… and the infractions pushed upon us by the members of the Greater SMP have found my people destitute, destroyed, and… deprived? No, not deprived-“

“Disregarded?” You spoke up from your place standing next to him, where you’d been carefully sorting through old unfinished drafts of his own works.

“Disregarded?” He looked up at you, giving you a flash of a smile, “Do you feel disregarded by the Greater SMP, Y/N?”

You flushed a bit under his gaze. You hadn’t actually meant to offer the word, but it had slipped out before you could stop it, “Yes.”

His smile underwent a simple change, one you’d noticed after observing his speeches and public appearances. His smile went from congressional — purely political and for show — to harboring a sense of community. It was the smile he used when he asked for volunteers. It was the smile he used when he asked people for their grievances. It was the smile he used when he listened to his citizens. It was a smile that could make you feel safe, make you feel heard. “How so? In what ways do you feel disregarded by the Greater SMP, Y/N?” He asked. It was subtle, the way he tried to say people’s names as often as possible when he spoke to them. There was something in it you recognized; a urge to get the person on your good side and the need to be liked.

You honestly couldn’t place the words that escaped you next. You had never been particularly political, but there was something about Wilbur Soot that demanded elegance and intelligence, and you felt yourself falling into line with easy compliance.

“Well, I feel disregarded in the way they command us. They have hurt our people numerous times without giving a second thought, yet they praise kindness and claim to want a peaceful end to this fighting. I feel disregarded in the fact that they claim to understand us, yet they have never spoken to me, let alone the majority of our citizens. I feel disregarded because they don’t even know my name, yet they have burned down my land. I feel disregarded because they refuse to listen to our grievances,” you took a breath as you continued, setting down the pages you’d been shuffling through. “I feel disregarded because even before the war, they did not respect us. I feel disregarded in the ways that they would bring us into their conflicts while they sat there. And most of all, I feel disregarded in the ways they have hurt my people without a care in the world, as if our lives do not matter.”

There was a moment of silence when you’d finished, and you looked back to see the leader of the rebellion giving you a look that you had never seen before upon his face: adoration. His smile fell into something softer, one that you’d seen only in short bursts, reserved for quiet moments Wilbur shared with himself in dark nights alone when he’d finished a piece he was proud of.

“Well, then,” he smiled at you genuinely, and it was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen. “Disregarded, it is.”

From there, you went from being his aid to his advisor, helping him hone his perfectly crafted speeches. You helped clear his mind. His air of regality as leader of the rebellion kept people from feeling comfortable reaching him, yet you shared none of that sense of bravado. You didn’t want to. People came to you, told you about how they felt as citizens, and it was the biggest help to Wilbur, who no longer felt like he was grasping at straws to make sure his citizens were being heard.

Throughout it all, the best thing you offered Wilbur was not your mind, but rather your company.

There were a lot of long nights that Wilbur was used to braving alone, and yet now, you were there to provide him companionship and cure the thoughts that plagued his mind about the future of the war. Wilbur loved watching your mind work on these nights. He would throw up a question into the air, something simple and philosophical, and he would watch as you’d chip away at the question and his subsequent arguments to your own positions. In any other case, it’d have been annoying, but for the both of you, it was akin to mental exercises, a game the two of you shared to keep sharp. It made for a kind distraction over the sounds of silence that plagued empty battlefields still wet with blood.

These nights were also some of the only nights you’d be able to get Wilbur to take care of himself. Usually, it was after a glass of wine softened him up enough for you to convince him to finish his rations. He had a habit of leaving half, just in case someone else needed something, and he’d been hungrier before so he was sure he could brave it. These were the nights when he’d finally let his wounds show.

Every battle, regardless of how bad off he was, he would hide any wounds that he couldn’t personally classify as fatal. And he would continue hiding them until they faded, though they never fully did. He always cared so much about appearances, how he needed to look pristine and confident to keep morales high.

But he didn’t care about that with you. With you, he cared about wit and vulnerability, despite the two having always fallen on opposite doorsteps in his persona. So he’d take off his uniform, leaving him in a simple white undershirt and the slightly baggy black pants he wore underneath. It was the biggest form of physical vulnerability he’d allowed himself in years, and you never overstepped. You’d ignore the bruises and scars littering his arms and faintly poking out from the collar of his undershirt.

But veiled ignorance could only last so long, and your own care for the man overtook any sense of social conventions.

“Wilbur,” you looked at him abruptly. You’d been sharing a bottle of wine like you often ended up doing these nights that neither of you could sleep. With each sip, you feel your mind grow anxious at what you’d noticed. Right when he’d taken this uniform shirt off, you quickly noticed the slash in his bicep, crusted with blood and dirt. And while you planned to ignore it like usual, usually he’d at least have cleaned the wound before, and you couldn’t ignore how clearly unattended this wound was. “Did you visit the medic after today’s battle?”

Wilbur snorted into his glass of wine as he took another sip, “No. No, I did not.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he started simply, “they had far more pressing matters.”

You didn’t see the battles. You’d be on the sidelines, with prepared speeches for Wilbur to give in case of any major developments. You always had to be ready, but it came at the consequence of never knowing what truly happened on the battlefield. Wilbur never liked to recount it either, only sharing essential information to save you from hearing about the ways your people were injured.

But tonight, you wanted to know. His safety was something that concerned you, and if it was so bad that he would threaten his safety, you needed to know. “What was it like today?” You asked quietly, standing as you spoke.

He watched you as you flitted around the room, pacing the floorboards languidly. “I told you. We lost, but we were able to leave a-“

“No, I know what you told me. ‘The battle was lost, but there were effects put into motion that will be able to help us in the long run.’ I know that. I meant- the- the other stuff, those ‘more pressing matters’ that the nurses had. Stuff like that.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word ‘casualties’ so casually, as if it was not one of your neighbor’s lives your were pushing into a single word.

He frowned, “I don’t- I really don’t think-“

“Tell me, Wilbur. I need to know.”

Wilbur sighed slowly, nodding, “Everyone was injured. Some of us less so than others. It… it was Eret. Eret betrayed us, so they knew where we were, they knew we’d be unprepared. It’s better that it’s now, so early in the war, that the traitor is gone now, but… it was at a heavy expense. All of my friends, the ones I dragged into this, they- some of them are still there, in the infirmary. Tubbo nearly died. He-“ Wilbur took in a breath, shuddering, “They said he’ll be okay, but if he was hit any higher, they would’ve punctured his rib, and we would’ve lost him. And- I- We almost lost my brother. Tommy, he-“ there were tears in Wilbur’s eyes as he recounted it, “he took a knife straight to the shoulder. For me. He pushed me out of the way. And it was so close, if he’d been a second earlier, it would’ve gone through his heart.” Wilbur was crying now. It was the first time you’d seen him this vulnerable, this affected by what he’d seen. The horrors that plagued his vision every time he’d close his eyes, yet he closes his eyes now, as he speaks, as if he would find some epiphany lying behind them and not the images of his brother and his brother’s best friend clinging to life.

“I- I couldn’t visit the medic after that. For this?” He gestured to the slash on his arm, “It felt unworthy of their attention when so many had nearly lost it all.”

He was still crying, his eyes pressed tightly together as if doing so would click some button to erase the memories of what he’d seen on the battlefield. You moved forward, pressing his head into your stomach and wrapping your arms around him gently. He cried against you, soft and shuddering as if his body was still afraid to acknowledge or speak about what he’d seen.

“I- I watched someone die. Someone on our side, I-“ he sobbed softly, “I held him as his breathing faded. His last words, he-“ Wilbur buried his face further against you, “He told me ‘Wilbur, make it worth it. If this is it for me, do not let it be in vain. Free our country and win.’” Wilbur panted quietly as he let the final words of a fellow solider fade into the quiet of the night. “I just- I can’t let him down. I let a man die for my cause. His blood is on my hands. And Y/N… it doesn’t look good right now. I know I said Eret’s betrayal is good for the future since the traitor is gone, but I- I don’t know what he knows. He could guide them back here tomorrow and slaughter us all in our sleep. So I- I don’t know what to do. I can’t let our people down, they- they didn’t ask for this. I keep- I keep wondering if I just should’ve kept quiet. If we could’ve been happy just living under SMP’s rule.” His admission did not escape him easily, echos of gasping sobs filling the room as he clung onto the fabric of your shirt. Neither of you spoke at first, letting his tears slow to a near stop in order to help him preserve the fragility of his mind.

“Wilbur,” you spoke softly once you felt the moment was right, “No one was happy before. You cannot fault yourself for giving us a chance. I know you feel responsible for the bloodshed, and I know how it makes you feel like you’re clinging onto some shadow of death that follows you. But if you were the only one who wanted freedom for our country, there would be no rebellion. You’d just be another man standing on the end of a street, searching for someone to listen to you. We support this cause because we not only believe in the importance of our freedom, but because we believe in you, Wilbur. We cannot have our leader be made a martyr because where would that leave us? This cause would fall apart without you. And I know you are afraid, but we are all afraid. You are allowed to be afraid of uncertainty. Your people are putting their lives on the line’s because the believe the end, even their ends, will justify the means. You cannot consider falling back onto your fears now. I’m so sorry for what you saw. I know how horrifying it must’ve been. But that man let you hold him as he died, you brought him comfort in those final moments because you promised a better future for his family, his people. You have inspired people, Wilbur. You inspired me. You took a single thought, an idea, and you turned it into something real, something tangible, a cause that we not only believe in, but one that we fight for, and we will continue to fight for.” You let out a soft sigh, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the crown of his head, “Wilbur, I know you feel like the world is crumbling around you because of how scary everything is right now. But you are not alone. If your world is crumbling, it is crumbling for me too?” you sighed once more, “this is all just a long winded way for me to ask, Wilbur, please, will you let me patch your wound?”

He didn’t reply to any specific part of your response, just giving a curt nod and lowering his arms. You both knew that you didn’t just mean the wound on his arm, but that you were attempting to reach out and help him patch the rifts in his mind.

You grabbed the spare first aid kit, returning to your place in front of him as you set down the kit.

“It’s really not that bad,” he sighed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Wilbur, I have always trusted your judgement for everything, but I think we have finally found the exception,” you chuckled softly, gently taking his arm in your hands to inspect the wound. It definitely wasn’t a pretty sight, but it could certainly be worse.

“Really? This marks the exception? Not the hundreds of times I’ve asked you if something sounds right or if people would agree with something I’ve said?”

You nodded, taking a cotton ball and soaking it in alcohol, “Yep, this is it. Uncertainty is not having bad judgement, it’s just the acknowledgement that you can’t do things alone. Which is true, none of us can.” You smiled lightly, pressing the cotton to his arm to clean the wound.

He hissed softly in pain as you cleaned the wound, speaking only once you’d finished, “I can’t,” he spoke quietly. “I can’t do things alone. I’m very grateful to have you.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you reached for a salve to spread onto his wound. “I’m grateful as well. You keep me stable with all this craziness going on.”

He watched as you opened the salve, getting a generous amount onto your fingers to lightly spread over the slash, “I can say the same. I would’ve fallen into disarray by now without you.”

Your flush darkened, and you started to wrap his arm quietly. You didn’t speak until you’d finished wrapping his arm completely.

“There,” you spoke softly, tying off the bandage, “Now, you won’t get an infection and fall ill. Goodness knows we don’t have the medicine for preventable illness anyways,” you chuckled, trying to make light of things.

Wilbur smiled as well, but he seemed a bit further in thought. You grabbed the kit once more and went to return it to its place, but Wilbur’s hand wrapped lightly around your wrist and kept you from turning.

“Wilbur?” you asked softly.

“I-” he had a flush on his cheek, and there was a beat of waiting before he finally looked up at you. He had a look filled with adoration and appreciation. But there was something else in his gaze, something softer. More warm. Something you would come to know as love.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly, his thumb lightly caressing where it rested on your wrist.

You had to refrain from gaping at him as you processed his question. You had always found the rebel attractive, but you’d never considered the legitimacy of pursuing a relationship with a man who seemed far out of your league. With bated breath you nodded, and he leaned up to pull you into him.

The kiss felt far more gentle than it should have. For all the desperation and wanting that lived within it, the kiss was soft and slow, familiarizing one another with each crack in our lips. It didn’t develop further, there was no rapid increasing of intensity, the kiss remained as gentle as the glow from the candles around the room until you pulled away slowly.

You both stared at one another for a long moment, attempting to memorize each freckle and blemish that adored war-torn faces. He was the one to speak up first.

“Y/N? Would you stay with me? Just for tonight?”

You nodded your agreement, and you both shared a mutual understanding in the lie he allowed spill from his lips.

As the war continued, you found yourself making a permanent residence in Wilbur’s bed and home. The war was taking longer than anyone expected, a double-edged sword in the how our troops still lived, yet so did Greater SMP’s. Morale was low for everyone, but you kept your spirits high in fire-warmed rooms in Wilbur’s arms.

“Do you think our people need something to boost their spirits?” He’d asked one day, your head resting on his chest and a hand loosely playing with your hair.

“Hm,” you thought, looking up at him, “I think it would be good, yeah. What are you thinking? A festival?”

He hummed, and as you inspected his face, you noticed the nerves lining his expression. It wasn’t an uncommon sight these days, his worries about the war leeching into every moment of the day. But usually, the anxiousness was far more faded by this time of night, even if it never fully left his gaze.

“Not a festival,” he spoke, shifting and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small black box, speaking softer, “I was thinking a wedding.”

You sat up, gasping softly, “Will-”

“I was going to wait until after the war,” he spoke, sitting up across from you. “But I’m terrified that I won’t get to. I’d rather die knowing you were mine than knowing I never got to at least ask you.”

“Wilbur,” you grabbed onto both of his cheeks, pulling him into a deep and loving kiss. You understood where his fears came from, and you would be lying if you didn’t admit that you shared in the same sentiment. Every day that the troops returned, your heart waited to beat in fear until you saw his face. You didn’t want to wait either.

You pulled away, wrapping arms tightly around his neck as you rested your forehead against his.

“Is that a yes, then?” He asked, a grin ghosting over his lips.

You laughed, holding onto him tighter, “Yes, Wilbur, absolutely.”

He laughed as well, his arms coming to wrap tightly around you. He kissed the side of your head as he spoke, “We- it probably won’t get to be a big wedding because we’re so low on resources, but if you want something big, we can absolutely have a second ceremony after, and-”

“Wilbur, our wedding could be in a mud field in our pajamas with a chicken, and I would still be satisfied. All that matters to me is being able to call you mine forever.”

He gave you a grin like you hung the stars in the sky before pulling you in for a loving kiss and putting a small ring onto your finger.

The wedding planning went over quickly. You weren’t planning anything fancy whatsoever, but it still needed to be enough of an event for your people to have time to relax. Everyone wanted to help out as well. Once you woke up the next morning after Wilbur’s proposal, it seemed as if the whole country knew already, with people coming to congratulate you and Wilbur as you both walked through town. Just the sense of community in everyone’s offering to help out with the wedding seemed to brighten everyone throughout the country.

You and Wilbur actually had two ceremonies. The first one was for the two of you and your families, a small dinner and ceremony to allow you to have an intimate and private wedding. It was gorgeous, and so incredibly worth it. The second one was the ceremony for the people. It wasn’t a lavish affair, though your wedding attire was some of the most beautiful things either of you had seen in months. It was a subdued wedding, but it was making the most out of what you had. Lots of fresh cut flowers from the countryside, Niki baked a cake, and a real, full meal made for everyone.

You felt tense in your fancy wedding outfit. Even if it wasn’t the height of luxury, it felt more stiff than anything else you’d worn in months. But there was a point to all of it. It was an event, something for people to care about. Something to get on their minds instead of residual fear about the next battle. You were glad for private affair you’d been able to have the night before, because this felt more like playing the role of the Leader’s Partner rather than actually being his partner.

“Hey,” you heard softly from behind you, turning as you watched Wilbur sneak in. He paused when he saw you, staring in awe. “You look so lovely,” he smiled, walking over to you and taking your hands in his.

“I could say the same about you,” you smiled, pulling him forward for a short kiss. “You ready to get betrothed a second time?”

He laughed, holding you a bit closer, “I am. I’d marry you every day if I could.”

You smiled shyly up at him, moving to wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly, “I love you so much.”

He kissed the top of your head, smiling, “I love you too, darling.”

You sighed and relaxed into the hug, letting your eyes slip shut. You moved your hands down to his sides, frowning when you felt a small box in his pocket.

“Wilbur,” you started, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small box of cigarettes, “What are you doing with these?”

He frowned, a shameful look on his face, “I haven’t smoked any, don’t worry. I’m just- I’m anxious, so I got them in case.”

You nodded, biting your lip with a frown, “If you’re anxious, you know you can come to me.”

“I know, I know, I just-” he sighed, “I’m anxious about you, is the thing.”

You frowned, setting the cigarettes down on the table behind you, “What do you mean?”

He sighed, sitting down on a small stool across from you, “I’m nervous that when word travels about the marriage, they’ll look down on the legitimacy of our country. I think it’s good, I think they’ll think we’re less concerned than we really are, however… I’m worried I’m placing a target on your back.”

You nodded softly, “Wilbur, I’ve had a target on my back since I chose to stand with our country,” you moved forward, giving him a gentle kiss, “I understand the concern, and I know the risks. But I’m not letting those risks outweigh the joy of being married to you. If they go for me, I can handle it. I know I’m not much of a fighter, but I can hold my own. Plus, they won’t kill me. If I’m valuable to you, they wouldn’t dare.”

He took your hand in his again, squeezing it gently, “thank you, darling,” he sighed, holding you close. “I won’t let them take you anyways. You’re too precious to me.”

You chuckled softly, lightly pressing your forehead against his. “Let’s go get married, then. The best fuck you we can give them is our love.”

He grinned and chuckled, nodding softly, “Let’s go get married.”

The wedding was a bright affair. The actual marriage part was quick and sweet, vows that you had both prepared together, nothing as genuine as the words spoken the night before. It was sweet regardless, promises of loving each other in the darkest of times that rang true in an audience of war-stricken dreamers. The best part of the wedding was the reception. Everyone was up, dancing and singing along to the music being shared, and the entire tarp over the field was covered in the most beautiful lights and flowers. You had a proper first dance with Wilbur before the dancing became more lively. You spent most of the night sitting with Wilbur and watching your people dance and laugh and drink.

“It’s gorgeous, don’t you think?” You smiled, looking over at him.

He nodded, “It is. I’m glad to see everyone smiling and happy.” “And drunk.”

He laughed, leaning his head on your shoulder, “Yeah, that too.”

You smiled, holding his hand quietly. You stared at the ring on your finger. It was simple, but it was absolutely gorgeous. A simple gold band with a small chiselled diamond in the centre. The diamond was crafted from a piece that had chipped off of Wilbur’s sword when he taught you the basics of parrying hits. The engagement ring lay below it, a thinner silver ring with a small emerald that you recognized as coming from one of Wilbur’s ventures to a further village. The rings weren’t lavish, but you preferred them more like this. They were far more meaningful like this. Symbols of your love both in their meaning and their crafting.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked him softly.

“Of course, darling.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “In our vows, we both mentioned honesty, so I want you to be honest with me right now. I know this isn’t the place to ask, but… what do you think our chances of winning are?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, “I don’t think it matters how big or small our chances are. I think what matters is that we have a chance. If we didn’t, we would’ve failed a long time ago.”

You nodded softly, “You see it, though? The future where we win?”

He looked over at you, a wide smile on his face, “I see it as clearly as I see you now. I see our fields free from the blood they currently harbor. Instead, they’re filled with flowers that grew up from the bloodshed. Crimson turned crimson. The kids run around, free of fear of an incoming bomb. My brother runs with them, and he no longer acts so grown up; he’s allowed to be a kid again. I see a memorial for those we lost, for all that was sacrificed. I see our citizens in parades, every year for our independence, they sing and dance, just like this. It’s like… the war is the night, the cold and harsh conditions that brutalize us and break us down into nothing more than human. But independence? It’s warm. It’s laying in the sun in a field with you. It’s our flag waving high on a summer day. It’s the laughter of children, it’s the joy of the future. It’s us. Our future. A memory garden adorned with flowers and the knowledge that we will never return to the Great War because we not only survived, but we persisted.”

“It’s daylight,” you smiled, and he gave you a grin so bright it felt like basking in it.

“It’s daylight.”

The weeks after the wedding remained lively for the most part. The morale boost helped the troops improve, and the battles didn’t seem as tough. There was an underlying fear that the SMP troops were holding back for some reason, but for the most part, everything seemed to be going good.

Until one morning.

Winter had begun, and with it, hardships improved. Illness was rampant, and while no one had fallen fatally ill yet, everyone was afraid.

Wilbur didn’t expect you to be next on the list of ill.

He was in the living room when you woke up that day. You stood slowly, but as you stood, you were hit with a wave of nausea and vertigo. You nearly collapsed before making it to the trash to throw up the contents of your empty stomach. You leaned over the trash and within moments, Wilbur was at your side, keeping your hair out of your face and rubbing your back.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

You coughed weakly, spitting into the trash, “Do I seem okay, Wilbur?” You huffed, before sighing. “Sorry, I just- I hate throwing up.”

He nodded softly, “It’s alright, I get it, here,” he carefully helped you up back into bed before rushing to grab some water. He handed you the glass, and you drank it quickly, sighing softly.

“Did something happen?” He asked, moving to your side to wrap an arm around you.

“No, I just stood up and- yeah,” you sighed, leaning your head against him, “You shouldn’t be close, I may be sick.”

He frowned, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll be alright. I’m going to call for the doctor, okay?”

You nodded softly, and he was rushing to get the doctor within seconds. They came back a few minutes later, and the doctor was quick to check over you.

“Your temperature is a bit high,” they hummed, “But other than that and the throwing up, I’m not seeing any other major symptoms. It could be stress. I would take it easy for the next few days, see if it improves. If nothing’s changed in a week, we can check for more, alright?”

You nodded softly, sighing quietly. Wilbur grabbed your hand gently before walking the doctor out, sharing hushed words.

When he returned, he got back into bed next to you, “They don’t think it’s anything serious. They said it’s likely just a mild fever, not like the flu going around out there.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, “I’ll be alright.”

“You will be,” he nodded, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t stay to watch you too much this week, but I can get Niki, if you want.”

“Wilbur, I don’t think I need to be watched,” you chuckled.

“I know you don’t need it,” he hummed, “but I want someone to be here with you. I don’t want you to collapse and have no one be here for you.”

You sighed softly, nodding, “Okay. If you don’t need her for anything this week, then I don’t mind. I like spending time with Niki.”

He smiled, squeezing your hand gently, “Alright. I’ll let her know.”

The same thing happened throughout the week. Wilbur would help you in the morning when the nausea hit, and then Niki would swap out with him when he had to go help out his people. The nausea usually lasted the whole day, but the vertigo and lightheadedness only seemed to last in the morning. You managed to eat small meals, and with Niki’s baking, she brought you a lot of small snacks.

It was one of these days that you had a theory. The final day of the week, there was a major battle, so Niki would spend the whole day with you while Wilbur went out to fight. It was nerve wracking knowing that he would be out there and you were stuck in your bedroom, but you figured it wasn’t that much different from the other days, you supposed.

“Niki,” you spoke up from your place on the bed. She was sat across from you, working on a small knitting project. The troops had just head out for the battle.

“Yeah, Y/N?” she asked, looking up at you.

“Did a doctor stay behind? Or did all of them head out?”

She thought for a moment, “There’s two here with us. One for the ill, and one preparing things for when the others return.”

You nodded, staying quiet for a moment, “Could you call one of them here for a moment?”

She frowned, concern lacing her brow, “Yeah, of course, but, why? Are you not feeling well again?”

“It’s not that,” you bit your lip quietly, looking away for a moment, “Can you keep a secret, Niki?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

You fiddled with your fingers for a moment, trying to think of the best way to phrase your next statement, “I… skipped this month.”

She gave you a look of confusion, before her eyes widened as realization hit, “Oh. Oh! Do you think-?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want to get my hopes up yet. And I don’t want to get Wilbur’s hopes up either, just in case. But… I think so.”

She gave you a grin, nodding quickly as she stood, “I’ll go grab one of the doctors, I’ll be right back!”

She rushed out, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. You were nervous about the implications. You wanted to start a family with Wilbur, of course, but neither of you were planning for it to happen yet. You’d agreed to wait until after the war. War is no place to raise a child.

The doctor came in, and she gave you a gentle smile. Niki waited outside as you spoke with the doctor, and you did a quick exam.

“Well,” the doctor gave you a soft smile, “I think your theory may be correct, Y/N.”

“You think?”

“Well, I know. You’re correct. You’re pregnant.”

She had a soft grin on her face as she confirmed your theory, as if it was not news that changed the entire trajectory of your future.

“Thank you, Doctor,” you gave her a soft smile right back, trying to let your worries ease into the back of your mind until Wilbur returned.

“Of course. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. For the next few months, just try to relax. I know it’ll be tough given our circumstances, but you have the support of the entire country holding you up, alright?”

You nodded silently.

“I’ll do another exam in a month to make sure everything is going well, and we can arrange for monthly visits. If you have any questions just let me know, and so other than that, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you smiled softly, and she left soon after.

Niki returned, a subdued smile on her face, “So?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

She grinned, rushing to your side and taking your hand in hers, “Oh, that’s lovely! Wilbur’s going to be so excited, are you going to tell him tonight?”

“I think so,” you smiled softly, “I imagine it’d be hard to keep it from him.”

It was hard to keep it from him. But not through your own admission, rather because news of the doctor visiting your home traveled quick among those who’d stayed behind. That night, Wilbur rushed in to see you.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” He called out, rushing up to see you and hold you in a tight hug. He looked worse for wear, his hair a ruffled mess and his cheeks stained with dirt.

“Yes, love, I’m alright, why?” You hugged him back tightly, nerves and knowledge filling your chest.

“I- I heard a doctor came in today,” he pulled away to inspect your face, holding your cheeks gently, “Did something happen?”

“No, no,” you smiled softly, “I’m okay, I’m good, actually. We figured everything out, and I’m going to be okay.”

He let out a breath of relief, pressing his forehead to yours gently, “Darling, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled softly, “How was the fight?”

He tensed, and you frowned.

“It was… it wasn��t good,” he sighed, and your heart dropped, “We ambushed them like we planned, but they were stronger. We didn’t get to take out as many of them as we wanted to before they noticed us, so we were outnumbered.”

You nodded softly, “Were you successful in stealing supplies, though?”

He nodded, and the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Not as much as we wanted to, but enough to make it hurt.”

“That’s good,” you smiled back at him, “Are you injured? Did you see the medic?”

He shook his head, “a few scratches and a burn from a flaming arrow, but it’s not bad. It’s on my shoulder.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, “Go take a bath, and I’ll wrap it. And then, I have something important to talk to you about.”

He tilted his head, “What is it?”

“Nope, not yet. Go clean up first,” you chuckled softly, “That takes priority.”

He rolled his eyes, grin falling on his face easily, “Alright, alright. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and watched as he went to go clean up. You could have told him then, but it was more for your sake than his that you wanted to wait. You had to get your mind together first, especially now knowing he was okay.

He returned not long after, face and hands scrubbed clean of dirt and soot. He was wearing a white tank top with his sleep pants, and he had the med kit in his hand as he sat down next to you.

You hissed softly as you saw the burn, gently taking his arm in your hand, “Wilbur, this is worse than you described.”

He waved it off, sighing, “It just got irritated from the water. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

You gave him a look of disbelief as you stared at the burn. It was bright red and angry, skin slightly charred and bubbled. There was a slight cut in the middle of it from where the arrow must’ve passed through. You sighed sofly, grabbing the disinfectant.

“Hold onto my arm, this is going to sting,” you told him softly, and he did as you said. Once you passed the disinfectant over the burn, he hissed in pain, squeezing your shoulder. You continued cleaning the wound until it was satisfactory, You grabbed the burn cream and delicately spread it over the wound, and slowly, his pained noises lessened.

“I’m not going to wrap it just yet, it needs to breathe for a while, okay?”

He nodded, sighing and pulling his hand away, “Will I be able to cover it tomorrow?”

You frowned, “You shouldn’t. But I know you will, so I’ll wrap it tomorrow.”

He nodded again, grabbing the med kit and returning it to its space in your bathroom.

“So,” he said, sitting down in front of you, “You said you have something important to share?”

“Yeah, so,” you sighed softly, taking his hand gently, “It’s about the doctor visit. I had the doctor come over today because I wanted to talk to her about us starting a family.”

He nodded, eyebrows furrowing slightly, “Okay. I thought we were planning to wait, though?”

You nodded, “I know, but… would you… be upset if we didn’t?”

He chuckled, “Not at all, darling,” he smiled, “it wouldn’t be ideal, but that’s more due to my own selfishness. I want to be here for every second of it, and I don’t know if I can right now. But I wouldn’t be upset about it. Do you… want to?”

You bit your lip, taking his hand and placing it over your stomach. “Wilbur,” you looked up at him, “I don’t know if we have much of a choice anymore.”

He gave you a concerned look, frowning, “Why not? Did- did something happen? If you’re not able to, we could always look into adoption, or-”

“No, Will,” you chuckled softly, shaking your head, “It’s not like that. It’s, uh, it’s the opposite, actually.” You gave him a soft grin.

He looked confused for a moment longer before a wide grin crossed his face, “Wait. Do you- do you mean?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I had a theory with all the sickness in the morning. So, I talked to the doctor, and… I think our family will be coming a lot sooner than we’d planned for.”

He grinned, tears springing to his eyes, “You’re serious? You’re-”

“Pregnant. Yeah.” You were grinning as well, and finally getting to tell him felt like the first breath of air after diving into the deep end.

“Oh, darling,” he spoke, pulling you into a tight hug, “Oh, I- we’re going to have a kid.”

You nodded, chuckling through the tears of joy that hit your cheeks. “Yeah, we’re going to have a kid.”

He grinned, holding you tightly, “Fundy’s going to have a sibling! Darling, this is amazing. I know we wanted to wait, but I don’t care. I have so much more to fight for now. So much more to come home for.”

You kissed him, holding onto him like a lifeline, “The war’s not done. But this. This is why we fight. As long as you’re home at the end of the day, that’s all that matters to me.”

He grinned at you, “I love you so much. I am so lucky to have you. We’re so lucky, even if it’s just being alive right now. This is all we need.”

You smiled lovingly at him, “We are so fucking lucky. And I am so excited for this. They’re blessed to have you as their father.”

“They’re blessed to have you as well,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

That night, neither of you went to sleep concerned over a failed fight. Instead, you dreamt of the bright future you’d be bringing your child into.

Family and close friends were the first to know. You told them two days later, during an impromptu family meeting that Wilbur had called. Everyone was incredibly elated, though Tommy’s excitement probably took the cake, as he was practically screaming his congratulations.

The rest of country learned fairly soon after. About a month later, even though you’d only slightly began showing and could certain continue to hide it for a while, neither of you wanted to. It was a joy to share with the country, and the celebration that followed was bright and lively, a night-long glimpse into a wonderful future.

It wasn’t always easy, though. Wilbur hated how he couldn’t stay by your side, taking care of your every need. You hated how lonely some nights were, when the battles lasted longer than usual or they had to prepare for a midnight ambush. The worst part of those nights was the fear, overwhelming and keeping you stationary in Wilbur’s office or your bedroom. Not knowing if your husband would return hurt more than anything else in the world.

You were six months in when he came home exhausted in early morning light. He didn’t speak to you at first, giving you a kiss before going to wash up. You waited anxiously for him to return, and when he did, he returned shirtless with a med kit in hand. He sat down in front of you with a sigh, turning around so you could see the large gash running down his shoulder.

“Wilbur,” you gasped softly, “this is really long.”

“It’s not that deep. Didn’t even realize it was there until I went to wash up.” He sighed.

You frowned, starting to patch him up quickly.

He spoke to distract himself, “Do you think we’re going to have a girl or a boy?”

You shrugged softly, “I’m not sure. They could be nonbinary as well.”

“True,” he hummed, “if they do come out as nonbinary, we’ll let them choose their own name. But we do still need to choose a name.”

“That’s true,” you hummed, carefully disinfecting his wound, “We should prepare for both.”

“I agree,” he responded, though his words came out through a clenched jaw.

“So what are you thinking, then?”

“Hm, I’m not sure about for a boy. But I do have a name picked out for a girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” you smiled, starting to carefully apply the salve to the wound, “What is it?”

“Tallulah,” he smiled softly, “What do you think?”

“That’s gorgeous. I love it.” You set the rest of the salve down, picking up the bandages.

“I’ve always loved it. I’m really glad you like it as well.”

You directed him to hold his arm up so you could wrap his wound, “It’s beautiful. What about a boy?”

He hummed, “I’m not sure.”

“We could always do Wilbur Jr.”

He snorted, shaking his head, “God, no. I’d sooner name them after Tommy.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I mean, Thomas would be a good middle name.”

“It would, actually,” he smiled softly. “For a boy, though… Julius could be nice. Or maybe Cornelius.”

You hummed, “Those have a good ring to it. Julius Thomas Soot. Cornelius Thomas Soot.”

“They do. We can think more about it, I suppose. We have time.”

“We do have time,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of his shoulder as you finished the bandage.

He turned, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head on your chest, pressing a kiss to the baby bump. You moved a hand to gently play with his hair.

“It was bad today?” You asked softly.

He sighed, “Bad would be an understatement.”

You nodded softly, kissing the top of his head.

“Do you think we’re bad people? For bringing a kid into this?” He asked softly.

You frowned, “No. I don’t.”

He nodded, holding you a bit tighter. After a moment, he spoke softly, “I’m really scared for them.”

You brushed through his hair with your hand, “Why?”

“I’m going to be honest, it… it doesn’t look good right now. They keep getting stronger and smarter, and I don’t know how to fight them. I’m scared we’re bringing our child into a failing country, and I’m scared I can’t protect you or them if worse comes to worse.”

“I understand. I’m scared too. But, love… we can’t really do anything now. We just have to try to give this child the best life we can, no matter the circumstances. Even if they’re the worst case scenario.”

He sighed, nodding, “I know. I just… I feel like I fucked up with Fundy. I was too young at the time, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes. And if I’m focused on fighting a war, I won’t be able to be there for them, the same way I wasn’t there for Fundy. I’m scared of being a bad father again.”

“I don’t think you will be,” you spoke softly, “and you’re not alone this time. You have me. They won’t be alone if you’re not there. I’ll be here.”

He nodded softly, looking up at you, “Thank you. I’m sorry, I’m just…” He trailed off.

“I get it. I’m scared too. I’ve never done this before. I have no clue what I’m doing. Not to mention I’m terrified of giving birth. But I’m scared of making mistakes because I didn’t know until I met you if I would ever have a kid. I’m glad I am, don’t get me wrong, but I never expected to be ready for something like this. Honestly, I still don’t know if I’m ready. I’m terrified, Wilbur. But I have you. I’m not alone.”

He smiled, leaning up to kiss you gently, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, darling,” you spoke softly, kissing him back gently, “Let’s get some rest, now, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded softly. With how exhausted he was, it didn’t take long before he fell asleep, leaving you alone with thoughts of uncertainty until sleep took over.

As you entered the last month of the pregnancy, things were starting to look up.

Kind of.

While the recent battles had been lost, Wilbur had a plan.

“Darling, I think I’ve figured it out,” he grinned, standing from his desk and walking to the couch you sat on.

“What is it?” You smiled, looking up at him.

“I’ve figured out how we win. Tubbo’s been spying for us, as you know, and he brought me this document yesterday, and I couldn’t see the significance! I was being an idiot, but I knew it didn’t make sense for them to have an entire document detailing how they make their uniforms.” He grinned, and you tilted your head.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a cypher. Darling, it was a code! And I- I figured it out. I know their plans.” He had a manic look in his eye, and you couldn’t help but perk up at the excitement in his tone.

“Love, have you slept?”

“Barely, I couldn’t sleep much because I kept thinking about this stupid fucking document. But darling, we know everything now. We know exactly where they’re going to be and when. We can win, we- we can do this.”

You grinned, but the anxiety still filled your chest at the idea, “You’re sure about this?”

“I- I mean, I think. I figured out the code, and it all makes sense.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to think of the most likely possibility. That they knew. That this was a fake document.

“Darling, I thought you’d be more excited,” he frowned, catching onto your anxiety.

“No, no, I am, just… Wilbur, what if they did it on purpose? What if they let him get a document planted just to feed you incorrect information?”

He nodded, thinking quietly. “I trust in it. And I think it may be a risk we have to take.”

You gaped at him, “Wilbur, you could be marching our troops directly into a trap.”

“I know, I know, but,” he sighed, “I have a good feeling about this, I promise. Honestly, I don’t think we have any other choice. Without this, we have nothing.”

You nodded softly, “... you trust it? That- that this isn’t a plant?”

“Yes.”

“And how certain are you?”

He bit his lip, “Mostly certain. It’s the best chance we’ll have, and we have to move fast, their plans start tomorrow.”

You nodded, pulling him in for a tight hug, “Okay. If-if you’re sure. I trust you.”

He hugged you back tightly, and you tried not to think about the fact that he hugged you like it may be the last time, “I love you so much, darling. Don’t worry, okay? This time tomorrow, we’ll be free people.”

You nodded, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his arms around you, “I love you too.” You pulled him in for a loving kiss, sighing softly.

“Go rally your troops.”

Wilbur did just that. He left shortly and brought the plan to all the generals, all the soldiers, everyone he could. He was buzzing with excitement when he returned that night, holding you close as he lied with you in bed, one hand gently resting over your belly.

“We’re leaving before the sun is up,” he told you softly.

“Will you be back when I wake up?”

He shook his head, “No. But we’ll be back for dinner for sure.”

You smiled softly, holding him closer, “We’ll have a celebratory dinner. Extra special.”

“Oh?” He chuckled, “Extra special?”

“Absolutely. Because we won’t just be celebrating the win. We’ll be celebrating your new role as President.”

He flushed softly, “You think?”

You nodded, “I’ve heard the people speak. They trust you, Wilbur. And I know you’ll make a great president. You’ll create a great place for our child to grow up in.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your belly, then your cheek.

“Plus,” you hummed, “President Soot does have a good ring to it.”

He smirked, blushing once more, “Oh? You think so?”

“I know so, Mr. President,” you grinned as he leaned up, lips hovering above yours.

“That does sound nice. Though I may be biased,” he pecked your lips gently, a smirk still ghosting on his lips.

“How so?”

“Well, I think any words that escape your lips are just as gorgeous as the lips they escape from,” he spoke softly, pulling you into a languid and loving kiss. You kissed him back just as passionately, letting the intensity quell your fears about his return tomorrow.

Wilbur was gone when you woke up the next morning, which you expected. What you didn’t expect was for lunchtime to have been such a bleak affair. You expected much more liveliness from your people, especially given how much Wilbur believed in the plan. But the streets were quiet. There were only hushed words as you walked through town to find a meal, and it seemed as if many people were directing those hushed words towards you.

“Did something happen?” You asked the merchant after you finished your meal.

She gave you a frown, a tense look appearing on her brow, “You haven’t heard?” You felt your heart sinking as you shook your head.

She sighed, looking down for a moment before looking back up at you, “I’m sorry, uh…” she took a deep breath before speaking, “one of the generals was supposed to come back to check in at noon. They haven’t returned.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded quietly, “Well, that- that doesn’t mean anything specific yet. Have we heard anything at all from the battlefield?”

She shook her head solemnly, and you nodded once more.

“Alright, well, ah, thank- thank you,” you stuttered out, before rushing away to find the basecamp quarters. You started feeling a pain as you walked, but you didn’t allow yourself to focus on it as you ripped open the tarp to the camp, finding the entire place… empty. It felt like a ghosttown.

You swallowed down the bile that rose in your throat, rushing back home. The pain continued as you walked, and your legs shook stubbornly as you trekked home. You couldn’t tell if the pain was even real, or if it was a side effect of the desperation and doom that filled your heart. As you reached your home, you collapsed against the front door, holding onto the door frame as a groan of pain escaped you. Before you knew it, the ground was rushing up to meet you.

When you woke, you weren’t on the ground. You found yourself in an uncomfortable cot, pain wracking through your body as you failed to sit up.

“Hey, take it easy, it’s okay, you’re okay,” the doctor spoke, coming to help you sit up. You were sweating, and she carefully placed a cold wet cloth to the top of your forehead.

“What’s- what’s going on? Where’s Wilbur?” You stifled a groan as you spoke.

“He’s not back yet, none of the troops are. And you’re okay, you passed out when your water broke. You’re going into labor.”

“Fuck,” you hissed out, panting softly. You noticed now the dressing gown you wore, your original clothes laying folded in a pile in the corner.

“Take some deep breaths for me, you’re doing great, okay?” She instructed, and you nodded, taking a moment to just focus on your breathing.

“What- what time is it?” You asked in between breaths.

“It’s about to be seven.” She told you, turning as she sorted through medical supplies.

Wilbur should’ve been back by now. You didn’t know if you could do this without him.

“Your contractions are coming in about every five minutes, and they’re lasting about a minute. You’re not quite there yet, so you have time, alright?”

You bit your lip and nodded, placing a hand over your belly as you prayed to any god that would listen that your husband would be returning to you in one piece, in time for him to meet his child. You’d never felt so alone at such a worse time. You had no midwife, no friends, no husband, just your doctor to guide you through this.

It was another hour before it was time. You didn’t want it to be, you wanted Wilbur.

“You’re dilated,” the doctor informed you, grim as you shared a thought on the lack of troops returning, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to start pushing.”

You shook your head, “No, I- I need to wait, please.”

“I’m sorry, I know.” She took your hand in hers, “We still have time, but you need to start.”

As much as you wanted to argue, you knew you couldn’t.

The sound of you yelling in pain during the next contraction was masked with another sound.

Yelling, first.

Then, the singing.

And finally, cheering.

It was only a minute later when heard the sound grow, of your people, cheering and singing in the streets outside. It was two minutes later when a medic rushed in, a smile on their face.

“They’re back!” They announced, before rushing to tell whoever they could.

You fought through another contraction as your heart lifted, panic filling you.

“Wilbur,” you spoke weakly, “Wilbur, please, please, find- find Wilbur.”

The doctor looked at you in concern, biting her lip for a moment.

“Okay. Okay, yes, hold on, let me- I’ll go try to find him, just hold on.”

You nodded rapidly as the doctor rushed out, going to find Wilbur. You gripped the sides of the cot as you groaned in pain, trying desperately to focus on your breathing.

When she returned, she was alone, “I-I couldn’t find him, but they’re saying he’s alive, don’t worry, okay?”

You let out a breath of relief, head falling back for a moment as you relaxed just as much as you could. She guided you through a few more contractions before you heard the most beautiful sound.

“Darling?!” You heard Wilbur yell, and you heard his voice get closer with each word, “Excuse me, please, hold on, Y/N!” He ripped open the door, gasping in relief once he saw you.

“Darling, oh my god,” he rushed in, coming in quickly to hold your hand tightly and place his other hand on your cheek. You leaned into his touch as he turned to the doctor, “How far along are they?”

“Breached,” the doctor informed, “Should be any minute now.”

He nodded, and you looked at him, “Will, I was so- fuck- I was so worried.”

He cooed, brushing your hair back, “It’s okay, I’m alright, I’m here now. Darling,” he grinned, eyes filled with tears as you squeezed his hand and groaned in pain.

“Darling,” he spoke again once the moment had passed, “We- we did it. We won. We’re free.”

You gasped, pulling him into you, “Oh, my god,” you couldn’t fight the tears that fell from your cheeks, “We won?”

He nodded quickly, kissing the top of your head, “We won.”

You let out a sob of relief and joy, but it was quickly masked by another yell of pain.

“You’ve got this, darling, I’m here, we’re free, you can do this,” he told you, holding you close.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor spoke softly. Wilbur was with you on the cot now, and you both were exhausted for different reasons, but both with joyous outcomes. She brought your daughter over to you, the newborn swaddled carefully.

You gasped quietly when you saw her, taking her gently in your arms as you leaned against Wilbur. You looked up at him, tears in both of your eyes. He kissed you gently before looking back down at your daughter.

“Tallulah Soot,” he spoke softly, “Welcome to the free nation of L’Manburg.”

You chuckled, though it was slightly muffled from your tears. “The first citizen to be born under a free rule,” you spoke softly, a finger gently stroking her cheek, “Because we won.”

“We won,” Wilbur parroted, disbelief clouding his voice.

She woke both of you up early with her cries. You held her in your arms as the early morning light poured in slowly, and as you rocked her, Wilbur sat next to you, an arm around your shoulder.

Her cries softened, and as her big eyes stared up at you, you decided to tell her a story.

“Now, Ms. Lulah,” you spoke softly, “You won’t know this for a few years. But you were born during a very special time. Your father was amazing, he commanded a whole army of people.”

Wilbur chuckled softly, kissing your head, “You were born to two amazing people. One a commander, and one his political advisor who won his heart with their wit and brevity behind closed doors.”

You chuckled, smiling warmly, “Yes, even though he was a disorganized wreck when I met him. Every year, Ms. Lulah, there will be a parade on your birthday. Do you know why?”

Wilbur smiled fondly, “I don’t think she does.”

“Well, then I’ll tell her,” you hummed softly. You looked up, staring out in an empty field, filled with beautiful red flowers as the morning light softly reflected on dew drops that slept on grass. “Because, you, Ms. Lulah, were born on the day your father and our people fought to ensure your freedom. More importantly, you were born on the day they won.”

She let out a soft giggle – the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard – and you grinned lovingly, staring out at that field once more, that never again, would harbor the same bloodshed. As the sun poured in, you could see in your mind, her running in that field, picking those red flowers, and never once knowing of the same hardships that allowed crimson blood to pour on your land.

All she would know is the daylight.

#mar writes #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #lovejoy #dsmp x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot #mcyt x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #mcytumblr #mcyt wilbur #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #lmanbur #lmanbur x reader #lmanburg #our young nation #oyn au

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ramonag-if · 1 year

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Crown of Exile - Chapter 5 Update

Chapter 5 is now available for the public!

Play the game here. Please RESTART your game. Old saves will not work.

The chapter includes:

The entirety of chapter 5;

Dealing with the Nomad Tribe prisoners;

Arriving in Ishari;

Learning more about the other Temple of Ehulla;

Convincing the Ishari people to help Prince Irus;

Freeing prisoners from the Blood Guard prison;

Uncovering major revelations about a certain prisoner;

Dealing with the aftermath of these revelations;

Spend time with your chosen RO;

Introducing a new RO - Anu;

Deepen your bond with Prince Irus;

The first (optional) NSFW scene of the game with Prince Irus.

Word Count: 78 368 words. Total game word count: 324 810 words.

Things to note:

As always, this is a first draft so expect scenes to be lacking some choices;

I wanted to include a lot more interactivity as well as more romance scenes, but I ultimately ran out of time;

Please report bugs to me via Tumblr, the game page or through this form;

The issue with the return button should be fixed and you should no longer get stuck in a loop;

For exclusive side stories posted monthly and weekly devlogs, sneak-peeks and general rambling, consider supporting me on Patreon.

I hope you enjoy the chapter and have fun!

#crown of exile #game update #chapter 5 #twine game #interactive fiction #romance #fantasy #ramonag if #public release

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spectorcomplex · 2 years

Text

—WE NEED MUSIC! e.munson x reader

you’re more madonna, blondie, and bowie and eddie munson has to find common ground to save your life

pairing: eddie munsox x fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: swearing, descriptions of blood, cuts, wounds, drowning.

word count: 3.7k

my masterlist

Nancy Wheeler has it all. The beauty, brains, and ferocity. But unbeknownst to the majority of Hawkins, what she lacked was a friend. You two have shared classes before, exchanged kind smiles in the halls, and even engaged in small talk whenever the opportunity presented itself. But the two of you never truly got to know each other— until Senior Year.

The summer air still lingered as it slowly intertwined itself with the fall cold when you saw the announcement on the classroom bulletin board. It was the first day of your senior year and you were already having post-graduation anxieties. Should you have participated more? To prepare yourself for college interactions? Or to be more knowledgeable and worldly—

“Miss Y/L/N.” The teacher’s stern voice broke you out of your stupor. You quickly hung your head as a weak form of an apology but your eyes discretely lingered on the paper pinned to the board.

Shortly after that, you pushed all inhibitions aside, dug out the converse shoebox containing wrinkled papers, and submitted a small compilation of the short stories you’ve written over the past few years to The Weekly Streak.

You had gotten more than you bargained for. The editor-in-chief of the school newspaper, Nancy Wheeler herself, excused you from Calculus class to gush about how the news staff loved your writings. The Weekly Streak was only looking for contributors but Nancy convinced them to give you a full-time spot.

If you want it, of course.

Of course, I want it, Nancy. If it means getting pulled out of Calculus more then yeah.

She laughed, you laughed, and the rest was history.

—+—

You really wished your history going forth with Nancy consisted more of laughing and gossiping while painting your nails and not getting your skin ripped apart by interdimensional-tentacle-vampire hybrid bats.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” You groaned as more of the creatures tried to tear into your flesh. “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die!”

“Don’t be so pessimistic, angel eyes!”

If Eddie Munson wasn’t helping you to survive by smacking an oar around you would’ve wrung his neck at the nickname. You seriously regret wearing that ABBA shirt when the group dropped off food for him at that cabin by Lover’s Lake.

The screeches stopped and all that was left was an eerie static in the air and Steve Harrington softly crying out in pain.

Never in a million years would you have thought that you’d end up in an alternate dimension of your hometown with probably the most random combination of people. “The Freak” and “The King” and you three girls.

It was scary how quickly you were accepting that this entire predicament you found yourself in was real. Nancy never held back when opening up to you, her relationship with Steve, with Jonathan, her brother, the misogynist pricks at The Hawkins Post and she definitely did not sugarcoat all the crazy events surrounding Will Byers’ disappearance. All she avoided was talking about Barbara but you respect her boundaries.

It’s okay if you think I’m crazy. I’d think the same if we switched roles.

Honestly, Nance, it sounds like the plot of those science fiction movies and you’d kill it as a scriptwriter.

Well, you better start thinking about writing drafts about all that’s happened in the past week and what’s about to happen and submit them to a Hollywood producer.

“C’mon, chiquitita, we need to find cover,” Eddie addressed you again. You glared at him but followed nonetheless.

You didn’t even notice that you were mindlessly walking around a few seconds ago until Robin grabbed your forearm.

“For both our sakes,” She chuckled. You also nearly fell into the lake that day you wore the ABBA shirt.

It wasn’t long until your group stopped again. You froze at the thought of more “demobats”, or whatever you heard Steve call it, coming your way but thankfully it was just Steve coming to a halt due to his injuries.

Nancy immediately came to his aid and you watched in curiosity. Their glances towards each other lately were not as discreet as they think and you would’ve easily jumped in to nag Steve’s ear off to protect your best friend if he wasn’t being nice. It was odd. You were never in his line of fire when he was still in school but you saw from a distance how much an asshole King Steve was. But during this entire ‘adventure’ he was actually decent and your rudeness would be unwarranted. You saw the genuine fear in his eyes when Max Mayfield’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she started lifting off from the ground. Sure you were scared too because she’s only a child, she doesn’t deserve this but you could tell that the look in Steve’s eyes was fear coming from a place of losing a loved one.

Steve was grunting in pain as Nancy wrapped the scrap fabric around his torso and it was only then did the sting of the bites from earlier settle in your nerves. Someone was saying something about guns but the blood pumping in your ears overpowered their voices.

“Fuck,” You said as you eyed the red gashes. “Am I gonna have rabies?!”

“What?” “That’s what I was saying!”

The sight of blood never did anything good for you. It always creeped you out and made you woozy. It didn’t matter if it was your own or from someone else’s wound, oh, but it was definitely way worse if it was your own. You felt like throwing up at the sight. And you were trying to keep the tears of pain at bay but it was as if all the hurt from the bats only registered now. It was probably a coping mechanism; you hated blood and everything about it and that’s why you only looked now.

“Woah, hey,” Was that Robin or Eddie? “Y/N? Are you okay?”

Oh, it’s Munson. You could tell from the long strands of hair softly tickling your cheek.

“She hates blood. Like really hates blood,” Nancy said in panic.

“And there’s lots of it,” Robin let out in a breath.

That seemed to alert you subconsciously and your breathing picked up until you were sure you were gasping. You’re overreacting. Steve has it much worse and he’s still standing.

You tried to right yourself by shaking your head. Snap out of it! Then you felt a fabric, almost like a handkerchief, running over your bare arms— you hated that you ditched your denim jacket at the Wheelers— and the sight of ring-clad hands wiping away the red liquid confused you enough to distract you from the pain.

“There you go.. okay now, Y/L/N?” You oddly felt deflated at the lack of a nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry for being such a little bitch,” You chuckled but your voice was devoid of humor.

“You helped me by grabbing those things with your bare hands,” Steve suddenly spoke, his hands mimicking your actions. “That’s badass.”

You huffed out a thanks with a truer chuckle this time. This whole dynamic was weird but everyone’s presence was the only comfort you had right now and you would not let it slip from your fingers.

“Let’s get moving then,” You suggested. “I heard something about Nancy’s guns?”

Said gun owner gave you a watery smile. She gently pulled you in, careful to avoid your cuts, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” You sighed. “I’m glad everyone’s okay.”

Your group got to trekking the ghastly landscape towards the upside down Wheeler house. What a mouthful. It was exhausting watching every step because of the apparent vine mechanism but your adrenaline still hasn’t run out and you hoped it would last until you got out of this literal hellhole.

The dust particles and never ending midnight sky sent shivers down your spine. You sent a quiet prayer for all of you to make it out alive.

“Hey,” It was Munson again. You nearly tripped backwards when he appeared next to you.

It felt nice that he was talking to you. You’ve had English with him twice and you would be lying if you said the metalhead didn’t intrigue you. He intimidated you, sure, but there were layers to that. He was an enigma. The most interaction you had with Eddie was that group project for midterms and finals. You were probably giving yourself too much credit but you felt as if you had gotten past the first layer of his facade during that time. To everybody else, it was a teenage boy not caring for his studies, but to your keen eye it was obvious that Eddie Munson was purposefully orchestrating that appearance to the world. He submitted works two weeks late but when you got a peek, his poetry blew you away. As if it was some lyricist’s magnum opus. But you knew he had more to offer in the future and he was only going to get better from there. The piece was so good that even if it was submitted way past the deadline, the poem still got a B.

“Hey,” You greeted back. When he didn’t reply for a minute, you followed up with a “How are you holding up?”

He looked taken aback. It was quite adorable really. You were used to his scowl and exaggerated faces to tease someone. You couldn’t find a better description for right now than puppy dog eyes.

“You’re asking me that? You, who got beaten up by bats?” Eddie asked, bewildered.

“I mean, you’re dealing with a police investigation, a Salem witch hunt– you’re the witch by the way, and the actual supernatural all at once and you probably haven’t had a proper meal in a week,” You frowned. “And I wasn’t beat up.”

“Well, since you put it that way, it is pretty fucked up. But I’d rather deal with this Vecna jerk than the new chief of police.” He smiled this time, directly at you and it felt like a metaphorical light in this literal dark.

“I actually kinda miss Hopper,” You shrugged. You hugged your arms to your chest. The feeling of the dried blood bothered you. “Chrissy would have already gotten her justice by now.”

It was silent after that when Eddie had no reply to your words. You feared that you said the wrong thing and your heart sinked even further. More anxiety wasn’t needed in this life or death situation.

“Do you-” He started, Your head whipped towards his direction so fast that you felt your cheeks warm at your eagerness. “Do you think he’d accuse me? Hopper, I mean.”

This time you didn’t break eye contact. “No. He wouldn’t even name you a suspect so quickly like they did. They’re so prejudiced it’s insane.”

“Prejudice, heh,”

“What’s funny?” You asked, eyeing his sly grin. It was a look of trouble.

“Nothing, just,” Eddie ran a hand along his chin. This time you eyed the chunky, intricate silver rings. “I remember we were grouped for a class and you scolded poor Logan Clarke when he asked too many questions while you were trying to read your copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

You had no recollection of that memory but you couldn’t help but flash him a curious smile, “You remember that?”

“Is that weird?” He asked, suddenly looking self-conscious. When you shook your head no, his grin made a return.

Robin was now suddenly yelling directions and you all quickly followed. The sooner the better. You had a family to come home to. And after getting out of the upside down you had to save them. You had to.

The grimey distorted version of the Wheeler house came into view and all of you stopped to catch your breath. All that was needed was to safely get into Nancy’s room and grab her weapon. The notion of having something to protect you in the upside down gave you relief.

The other three made their way up the stairs quickly but a gentle hand on yours stopped you in your tracks.

“Here.”

You were dumbstruck. Eddie Munson was offering you his leather jacket. You didn’t know him that well but you think you know his sentiment over the piece of clothing he was handing to you.

You started to shake your head to refuse but he shook his head back and went around your frame to help you slip your arms into the sleeves without hurting yourself. You caught a glimpse of his pale forearms, the only marks littering it were artsy tattoos. You didn’t know why you felt relieved when he didn’t have the same teeth marks and blood on him.

He stepped away when the jacket was finally on. It smelled of dark mahogany, real leather, and something so uniquely Eddie. One part of your brain was telling you to return it but it was warm and comforting that your tense shoulders finally had a moment to sag and relax.

“Take it, dancing queen. You’re practically shivering.”

—+—

So close. You were so close.

You had practically burst into tears of joy when Nancy returned to normal. You jumped back into the other side without hesitation when you heard Steve calling out to her. You felt like sinking into the floor when you saw her rolled back eyes. You were straight up sobbing and you were surprised you pulled enough strength to hold her unconscious body next to Steve.

“Nancy!” You shook her harshly. If that was what needed to be done to wake her up while the others looked for cassette tapes then you’d shake her til your arms fell off. “Nancy, no, no, no, please. Please. No.”

Flashes of past memories came and go through your mind and you didn’t pay it attention when the present sight of your best friend at the verge of being killed is as terrifying.

She came back with a gasp. You didn’t have time to ponder how she did come back without the physcological effects of music but you were thankful. You told her to get back to the other side, the normal side, as you watched her along with Steve.

Steve, ever the gentleman, let you go first. You were not the most athletic so climbing up the makeshift rope was a bit of a struggle. Nancy didn’t let her exhaustion take over, not until she helped you by grabbing your hand. She was still clutching your hand by the time Steve came back and you didn’t know why suddenly the grip was almost bone crushing.

“You’re so happy aren’t you? That everyone’s back?” Nancy said. Her voice was clear of the raspiness it had earlier. Too clear. Almost artificial, as if something was mimicking her.

“Yes, I’m so-“ You mentally prepared yourself for it but it still caught you off guard.

One half of Nancy’s face looked as if it was melting like candle wax. You weren’t stupid. You knew it was your turn.

“Nancy, I—“ You started. It was probably pointless that you called her Nancy since obviously this person in front of you isn’t your best friend anymore.

“I thought we didn’t keep secrets, Y/N.” Her ‘voice’ was pitching lower and lower that it was now scary, horror like. She sauntered towards you and kept getting closer without stopping that you fell back. Her face was so distorted to the point she looked like a corpse and you cried at the sight.

You felt sand. Sand everywhere. But the menacing red sky surrounding you didn’t fit the scenery of a beach. A sob slipped past your lips. No no no. You cannot relive this all again. The heartbreak of everything would actually manage to kill you before this Vecna creature did.

“Please, stop,” Such a juvenile act, covering your ears with the palm of your hands. “Please, let me go.”

Then you heard it. A chime of a clock. A booming sound that vibrated in your chest and you knew this is what haunted Max.

“Why would I do that, Y/N.” The voice was completely different now. No trace of Nancy in its echo. Your name was hissed like a taunt.

“Just like you let me go?” The shout was so loud it forced your eyes open. And you screamed.

—+—

“Fuck! Y/N, wake up!”

The sight of your skin, once full of life, was now turning grayer by the minute. No sight was scarier than your eyes lacking its vibrant color as a milky white took its place. The leather jacket covering your frame looked more vibrant than your ghostly appearance.

Everybody’s hands were shaking. Nancy’s as she helplessly shook your body. Max’s and Robin’s as they went over the piles of cassette tapes that were most likely not going to have your favorite bands. Dustin and Lucas’ as they each set up a boom box and a cassette player with headphones just to be safe. But all these precautions were going to be in vain if they didn’t find a song that will pull you out of this godforsaken curse.

“No, no, hey, hey!” Steve desperately clutched onto your wrists as he saw the first sign of your feet lifting off the ground.

—+—

“I didn’t mean to,” You shook your head. The tears were overflowing now. “I’m sorry, you know I’m sorry. I regret it every single day of my life.”

“Do you now?” The face of your cousin was as distorted as Nancy’s. But this felt a lot more eerie as the last time you saw it was when—

You screamed in utter fear as the face and body morphed again but this time it wasn’t into another person. A monster. With vein like lines crawling all over their giant body and surprisingly human eyes. They were cold and hateful.

You tried to get up and crawl away, feeling the black sand scratch at your wounds, opening them up again. You cried in pain. Worse when you were pulled by your feet and dragged backwards. The pain was unlike anything you’ve felt before and you hoped that if it was your time to go, this horrendous monster would have the mercy of making it a quick departure.

—+—

“Fuck, fuck,”

Dustin looked over, surprised at his friend, the mighty Eddie Munson, having tears well up by his eyes.

“I-I know she likes ABBA–shit! I don’t have anything like that, fuck. Fuck!” Eddie was carelessly tearing through his collection. Most of these cost a good amount of money but right now he couldn’t even think about anything like that when saving you was his top priority.

This had already happened once in his home and he was not about to let it happen again.

“Anything close! Like a soft rock or something that sounds like pop! Anything—anything!” Nancy was sobbing now. She couldn’t let another best friend of hers be taken away from her.

Suddenly, a tape with a black cover and gold lining was in Eddie’s grasp. This is the closest he can get away from his heavy metal.

He raised it to Nancy so she can look but she was teary eyed and trying to grasp onto your legs. Eddie showed it to the person closest next to him, Robin, who nodded.

“I think she listens to them. It’s worth a try.” Robin’s deep voice was raspier than usual as fear consumed her eyes that were looking over at you.

Eddie gave a mumbled sorry to the Sinclair siblings as he practically shoved them out of the way to place the tape into the boom box and pressed play. The sound was surely going to draw attention from the neighbors but it was just a famous song playing so all they could hope for was that there will probably be no danger.

—+—

“You left her there to drown, Y/N,” You swear you heard Vecna tsk. The creepy, sluggish vines slithered towards you and were tightly wrapping around your limbs.

This was the end.

But just the beginning. Of a song. Of hope. Of a familiar song you would scream to when you had the chance to be home alone.

Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me

“You are going to die today, Y/N, you are going to drown. Just like your beloved cousin did.”

You shut your eyes. It was an accident. You were a child. You have not fully forgiven yourself but what is important you were in the process of it.

It hurts. Every single day you feel the pull of guilt and you may never be without it, but you were living in the way you can still love your family. This isn’t your time. Not in the hands of a monster named after a silly game character.

Too late, my time has come,

Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time

The vines were pressing into the minor cuts on your legs. Your hands were still free and you caught a glimpse of the leather adorning your arms. You were not going to go without seeing the boy who owns this jacket.

So you took your chance, rattled Vecna like how Steve demonstrated you did with the bats, and fled for your fucking life. Your knees were killing you, the cuts all over your body were determined to slow you down, but not even this beast could defeat Freddie Mercury.

You didn’t look back. Only let the sound of Queen consume you with hope as you saw the image of your friends hold onto your body. It was the light at the end of the tunnel.

And when the operatic section hits, you felt connected with yourself once more before falling into carpeted ground.

You vaguely heard a female voice saying they were going to get a glass of water. Something small and cold pressed against the side of your neck and you just knew.

“You had Queen?” You teased with a broken voice.

You heard a collective sigh of relief and never felt happier. A hand gently smoothed over your tangled hair.

“Yeah, thank god, I wouldn’t know what I would’ve done with myself. I better start calling you Killer Queen now, eh?”

That nickname doesn’t sound so bad.

my first stranger things fic :> please reblog if you enjoyed it <3

#stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things fic #stranger things season four #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson oneshot

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apollodarling-writes · 4 months

Note

Hiii! I love your Levi writing. Would you consider writing postwar yandere!levi who always wanted to carve his name into y/n collarbone, but was denied and finally they surprise him with a tattoo of his name in that place? After all, he’s been such a good boy

post war! levi with a reader who surprises him with his name tattooed on their collarbone

cws : aot spoilers, yandere themes, sub! levi implied, established relationship, marriage mentions, fluff.

edit: i’m so sorry, i totally forgot to answer the first sentence. i’m so glad you like my writing 😭 i hope this was to your liking.

you'd never been fond of the idea, but levi really did try his best during the war. you loved him despite all his flaws-- even if it was one hell of a task; what with all his possessive traits and all. he'd often brought up the idea of carving his name into your collarbone, but you'd always shot it down. whether it was due to your own muted fear, the time not being opportune, the two of you being in public... regardless, you wanted to do something nice for your husband.

levi was such a good man; always so eager to please, and always attentive to your every need. he dedicated his life to saving humanity time and time again, so you figured you could compromise on this one thing and surprise him with a tattoo of his name. onyankopon had told you about some of the cultures from his homeland in passing shortly after the war ended, and to be completely honest, the idea did seem appealing to you.

you'd asked onyankopon to bring one of the best he knew from his homeland, awhile after the thought crossed your mind, and ever the good person he was, he eagerly brought one of his friends to visit paradis. you explained the tattoo idea to onyankopon beforehand and he played his part in making sure you knew that once you got the tattoo, it was forever. the thought didn't deter you a bit.

his friend came a few weeks later, the three of you meeting up somewhere in secret while levi was handing out candy to the children who'd survived the war. it took about an hour to draft it and complete the outline, then approximately another half-hour to fill it in, but despite the foreign pain, you felt appreciative of the opportunity. you expressed your gratefulness and paid him a bit extra for his travel costs, making sure to take the two of them out to dinner as thanks.

you bid the two farewell afterward, making your way home where levi was waiting for you in the living room. "where were you?" he grumbles.

a smile tugs at your lips. "i have a surprise for you."

he arches a brow and motions for you to show him, his lips set into a pout. you eagerly pull down your collar, showing off the new ink. his eyes soften, a smile of his own forming on his lips. "oh..."

"do you like it?" you ask hopefully.

a blush rises to levi's cheeks as you kneel at his feet, a grunt leaving his lips. "i... i love it."

you squeal and hastily press your lips to his. "shouldn't i be the one who's this excited?" levi breathily chuckles.

"i love you, lee."

the pads of levi's fingers trail along the expanse of your cheeks, lovingly pressing a kiss to your forehead. "i love you too."

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pillowfort-social · 6 months

Text

Site Update - 10/30/2023

Hi Pillowfolks! We hope you are safe and well. Today’s site update includes the anticipated release of our Drafts feature!. We apologize for the extended downtime to push this update. Updating the database to include the new fields & indexing necessary for Drafts too much longer than anticipated. We will be monitoring closely for any unexpected bugs so please let us know if you run into any.

New Features/Improvements

Drafts - Users can now save a post (both personal and community posts) as a draft to be published later. Huzzah! Saved Drafts will be visible underneath “Drafts” in the user sidebar after you click “Save Draft” in our post editor. If you have at least one saved draft, you will see a link to view your drafts in the sidebar, under the “Post” link. (NOTE: Drafts are not auto-saved; you need to save your drafts manually to make sure you don't lose your changes.)

We know many of you have been eagerly awaiting this feature for a long time. And, as we promised, this feature is available to everyone for free.

Premium Frame Update - A new autumn-inspired premium frame created by artist & Pillowfort user Jamie Kaye is now available!

Inbox Improvements - Conversations containing new messages are now bumped to the top of a user’s inbox.

Video Embed Improvements - Users can now embed Youtube Shorts using the Video option on post creation. A bug that caused Youtube embeds to fail if the youtu.be url format was used has also been fixed.

Re: Terms of Service Update

As previously announced, we will be implementing a ban on AI-generated images and text. Our reasoning is available here. While our Staff aimed to release the updated Terms of Service today with this update, we want to take the time to finalize our verbiage of the new rules. The Terms of Service Update will be updated soon in a separate update. Thank you for your understanding.

Best, Staff

#pfstaffalert #pillowfort #drafts #pillowfort.social

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sleepyboywrites · 4 months

Text

@justkeepscrollingscrolling

Hey all! In case you missed my last post Tumblr updates ruined my life and asks no longer allow you to save as drafts and then update them. Since I normally don't write all in one session I have quite a few in my drafts currently that I have to get creative in actually answering so that you all still get notified when I get around to your asks. Moving forward I'll just answer in one go but for older asks (ones before I noticed/before the update) will be answered like this! Also I haven't written in a while so I apologize if it's shit.

Save a horse ride a cowboy

Masky knew you were raised on a farm. His favorite, albeit slightly teasing pet name for you was 'Cowboy' or 'Farm hand'. He's seen you carry corpses of fully grown men in one arm since joining the proxies. He had confronted you on multiple occasions how and why and you had replied. "I've hauled hay when our tractor broke and carried a newborn filly to the truck to rush to the vet after she wasn't walkin'. I can hold my own Darlin'." And he had been oh so kind to remind you who you belonged to for your lip and sweet farm boy ways. Yet he still sometimes underestimates your strength and in all honesty it's your own fault.

Play fighting and rough housing was nothing at all new. Mostly because Masky suffers from cuteness aggression and you, farm boy, are sturdy enough to handle it as well as dish it out. You two did it so often that if you didn't people assumed you were fighting fighting. On top of this you had a bad habit of letting Masky win because he's just so cute all smug on victory and everyone likes to be shoved into the couch face first by their partner sometimes cause being manhandled is just as fun as manhandling.

That is until one day, a really busy one, you didn't really have the time nor energy to let him win.

Masky had been extra annoying today. Poking and proding and shoving and basically all over you. Normally no complaints whatsoever but you had a shit ton you needed to get done. The list of cleanup tasks you were assigned today was two pages long and with your boyfriend attacking you at every turn in some form of cuteness aggression taking over and possessing him the second he saw your face, you getting fuck all done. Cleanup from the cannibals of the mansion plus the targets of the main proxies (because apparently scrubbing the remains of EJ's lunch off of the kitchen walls for three hours wasn't enough to deal with) had made for an unusually large amount of work for the sole cleanup crew member, you, and you were over it. So as Masky tried to tackle you in greeting for the fifth time today hoping to instigate you to wrestle him and to in turn win and coerce you to get a little 'closer', you just held your ground picked up the corpse in one arm, pried his arms off with a "Hold on Darlin' I have work to finish and I'm running behind. Later." And walked away.

Masky had stood there for a moment with a confused look on his face before the realization struck and he remembered his view of you and your 'softness' was heavily skewed. But once the shock disappears he became determined to genuinely tackle you. Stalking, lurking, and hunting you as you attempted to finish your work as Cleanup. He had proven himself to be quite the pain in your ass as you avoided his attacks and eventually lost him all together getting to finish the long list of tasks you had been assigned. You took a shower changed clothes and were scrolling on your phone on the couch when you finally sensed him again.

His vaguely pissed off and irked in general aura slowly approaching you from behind. You pretended not to notice that he's approaching and place your arms over his as he hugs you, clearly mopey, from behind. "Hm... So we're doing angry cuddles now, are we love?"

Masky didn't reply shoving his face into your neck, you could feel his intrusive thoughts to bite you, his hesitation to do so. Masky begins walking away from you and into the kitchen.

Without warning you chase after him and pick him up as he shouts and squirms playfully trying to escape your grasp and flip the script, "Look, I'm sorry I was avoidin' you, 'm not angry at you darlin, I was just overbooked on what needed done. Now quit your moping." You explained as you threw and pinned him to the couch. Masky going fully silent and still as you pin him down, giving you an odd territorial and excited look. "What?" You ask as he stares up at you, an eyebrow raised.

"Save a horse..." He replied looking you up and down. As it slowly processes in your head what he's referring to and you scoff and chuckle as you shake your head.

#masky x male!reader #tim masky #creepypasta x male reader #suggestions are welcome #series #part 1

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jackfrombaskinrobbins · 5 months

Text

all fixed up (matt murdock x teen!adopted!reader)

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 967

request: yes / no

original request: "Matt Murdock patches up a teen reader, and there's just a lot of angst and hurt/comfort. PLEASE LET IT HAVE A HUG AND FOREHEAD KISSES :)) (I'm a sucker for fluff)"

warnings: slight mention of wounds, blood, not too much though i promise!!

dynamic: matt murdock x teen!adopted!reader

characters: reader, matt murdock, quick mention of foggy nelson & wilson fisk

a/n: ILYT!!! also erm hey guys🤓i've been gone for way too long i'm sorry :') but i've had this in my drafts for a whiiiiiiile so i figured it was time to post :0 anyways ya feel free to request i have a bunch to get to but i always like new ones!! esp daredevil oop tee hee

taglist: @nutellani @thecloudedmind @ayohitmanddaeng @fiadh-bell

(fill out this form to be on my taglist!)

-----------------------✰--------------------

“stop it, y/n. just come here for a minute, alright?”

normally matt’s words would be answered with an exaggerated sigh and an eye roll, but tonight was different. tonight was off, and you knew it, he knew it, and he knew that you knew that he knew it. (ridiculous, but true.) it didn’t help that you had wounds to patch up, sore spots all over your body that wouldn’t be going away any time soon – a constant reminder of your mistake.

and yes, as much as matt would deny it, you had made a mistake. a damn big one at that. you should have known better. no matter how gifted you were at defending yourself, no matter how many times you had practiced, it wasn’t enough. nothing would ever be enough. and yet you had stupidly decided to go against a group of kingpin’s lackies, big huge guys who ate kids like you for breakfast. they didn’t hold back, and they beat you up until you were barely conscious, and that’s when stupid matt came and did his stupid thing and saved your stupid ass from stupid death or some stupid thing like that. and now you were here, in this stupid apartment wishing you had just stayed in and done your stupid homework and watched some stupid tv and just stayed out of things for once.

“i’m going to bed, matt.”

you spoke, too ashamed to face him. but stupid matt always knew, with his stupid heightened senses and the stupid way that he knew you inside and out, ever since he had taken you in a few years before.

“come on y/n. this isn’t something you can sleep off, and you know it.”

and you did know it. so that’s why you sat at the table, a hiss of air escaping you against your will as you lowered yourself down.

“i’ll get the kit from under the sink.”

“matt, really, it’s fine. it’s just little stuff, okay? i’m fi–”

“fine doesn’t smell like blood, y/n. i’m not stupid.”

that earned him an eye roll, which he never saw, but he always knew happened when he said things like that. you watched as he made his way to the sink, opening the cabinet underneath and rummaging around for the first aid bag. A while ago, you had put stickers on it so he could discern it from the other things in there. There were four flower stickers, and one that foggy had given you, with disney princesses that said “together we are strong”.

matt settled into the chair across from you, exhaling softly. the lights of a police car suddenly filled the dark apartment, screeching sirens accompanying it. you reached for the kit, but matt shook his head.

“no, y/n. i’ll do it.”

you opened your mouth, about to protest, but you could tell he wasn’t going to budge. his stubbornness was something you liked, sometimes. it sure helped when you both wanted pizza for dinner and foggy wanted wings. besides, you knew he would be able to patch you up right, with all the experience he got from helping his father. he had always told you that you were just like him, willing to give anything to protect your honor. but what matt never said was that he was just like his father too, and that if anything, you had just gotten those traits from him.

“did they get you in the head at all?” he asked, soaking a cotton pad in hydrogen peroxide and gesturing for you to guide it where your wounds were.

“yeah, a little bit. i tried to block ‘em. they just kept coming matt, i couldn’t do anything!” you grimaced as the pad touched the spot on your shoulder where you had been grazed by something sharp.

“i know, y/n. it’s not your fault.”

“see but that’s the issue. it IS my fault, matt!” you spoke, voice getting slightly strained, throat feeling tight. you squinted your eyes to prevent tears from falling, but it was too late. a few landed on his hand, and you turned away, trying to compose yourself. “there was no reason to go out there. i don’t know why the hell i thought it was a good idea. i was just … mad! mad about the way they’re treating everybody in this place, mad about the way they’re screwing over every person they deal with… mad about how they treat YOU, god damn it!”

a moment of silence as you tried to slow your breathing, and for a minute, you didn’t know how he was going to react. he reached into the kit, feeling around until he grabbed a bandage, unwrapping it. you helped his hand go to where it needed to be placed, and once it was, he sat back. only then did you see the furrow in his brow, the deep frown on his face.

“look, y/n. i need you to listen to me, and really hear me, alright? i’m proud of you.”

“come on matt, that’s –”

“no. i’m proud of you. really, really proud. i just … i just want you to be careful, alright? i worry about you. and for good reason, considering all this.” you could see his face start to crack ever so slightly, a quick break in his voice indicating that he really meant it. you moved your chair back, stood up, and hugged him tight, despite a slight lingering pain in your shoulder. after a little while, he kissed your forehead, then patted you on the back.

“i’d assume it’s pretty late now. how about you get to bed? we’ll figure out if you need to go to school tomorrow, alright?”

“sounds good. thanks matt. love you.”

“love you too, y/n.”

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#mcu headcanons #marvel headcanons #marvel #mcu #daredevil headcanons #nmcu daredevil #matt murdock x teen!adopted!reader #matt murdock x teen!reader #matt murdock headcanons #mae's requests

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trashlama · 10 months

Note

Maybe hcs on yandere rise Donnie in a romantic way who falls for big mama assistant who praises his work ~

Donnie knows it’s wrong , but as Mikey always says the heart wants what it wants

Which leaves to Leo and Raph to kindly tell him he’s being rash , ridiculous, not thinking clearly she’s working for the enemy, she gonna end up using you .

Donnie doesn’t care tho , doesn’t he deserve to be happy , rewarded for saving New York , the world countless of times !

Reader better prepared herself there’s a storm coming , one she not prepared for ~ 😈

Donatello x Big Mama Assistant Reader? I gotcha ya'

At this point in the game Donatello is pretty used to people trying to take advantage of him. Purple Dragons, Big Mama, Master Splinter— basically anyone who throws the dude a compliment because they want to take advantage of him for his tech.

He's weak for that ✨praise✨

Despite being a genius intellectually, emotionally Donatello is easily manipulated into doing things. Like with the Purple Dragons and Master Splinter Donnie is eager to impress those he wants respect/praise from. Believing that if he gives/shows them how great he— his tech is they'll stay. They'll need him. Even if it's not exactly for him. As we find out in Donnie vs. Witch Town.

Praise is Donnie's form of reassurance that he is valued. Needed. To him aside from his tech he believes he doesn't bring anything to the team.

Soooo Donnie crushing hard for one of Big Mama's assistants because they compliment him? Sure I can see that.

Especially if you're literally just feeding his ego so you can retrieve some Intel for Big Mama to use against the Mad Dog's/or to her own personal advantage. Though I guess what you gotta be careful about is what happens when you ghost a turtle who is obsessed with you? Well you might just need to find out.

Sorry if it's a little OOC-ish, I rewrote this like ten times, initially with just head cannons, and then a one shot draft(several). Buuutt I kinda hated all of them sooo I posted the one I liked the most.

Probably should've re-read this more but I got work in the morning...

This takes places some months after the movie. Also check out the author's notes at the end for more!

I hope you guys enjoy it!

++++++++++++++

Fuck maybe Raph and Leo were right....

This might've been a bad idea...

Donatello was a prideful turtle. He didn't like admitting when he was wrong but, in this case scenario standing here under the beating lamps of Big Mama's Battle Nexus arena ten rounds into a seemingly endless fight. Donatello was starting to have second thoughts about his choice of just strolling up to the New Grand Nexus Hotel and negotiating with Big Mama. Somehow he should've anticipated this outcome. The jorogumo is notorious for adding twists to her deals. Especially when it came to her Battle Nexus. Nothing is as it seems with that british demon lady.

However somehow despite every rational bone screaming in his body to call off this arrangement, the possessive creature caged between his ribs refused. It wanted You. Donatello wanted You. The Yuki-Onna who strolled into the mutant's life all those months ago and infected his brain with your spoonfuls of honey coated poison.

The yokai who sang songs of praise and adoration that hypnotized the purple coded Hamato. Transfixed Donnie gave it all. Anything you asked for. It was yours, just don't abandon him.

Immediately Raph and Leo were on his case about the matter. Preaching about how he was just going to get used and dumped to the curb.

Mikey wouldn't say anything.

Donatello knew Mikey wanted to defend his brother's blossoming interest in love but, in those warm grey eyes it reflected back the youngest Hamato's inability to support this. It wasn't healthy. Donatello didn't need Doctor Feelings to tell him such. But he didn't care. Not until out of the blue you start ghosting the softshell. Long story short— he's devastated.

All together your calls, messages, surprise visits stopped. For weeks there wasn't a sign from you and the lack of (Y/n) time was causing Donnie to go through remission. Like a junkie without a fix the softshell was losing his mind. Everywhere he searched at all hours. Day, night, anytime that his brothers weren't there to stop him from pursuing you. During your extended absence both his father and siblings would go on about how this was a good thing for him. Meanwhile Donatello felt like his world was falling to pieces. Patience chipped away every day he couldn't find you. Before the techno turtle knew it, half a month had passed and he found himself standing in the New Grand Nexus Hotel lobby requesting a meeting with Big Mama.

That's why he was here. To get you back. This is your fault that he's this way. Donatello was just a man of science before you came along and muddled up his rational brain. Now the purple clad Hamato was gonna make sure that you pay for it.

Standing tall once more the sound of the crowd and the stadium's intercom speaking finally broke through the ringing that was leftover from the previous match. Allowing the mutant genius to finally tune into Big Mama's message that was being broadcasted.

"—Ahhh my good patrons~ For our last-aroo match of the tourna-warna-ment we have a special guest star instead of the champion we had originally set.... Give her a warm welcome back everyone! (Y/n), The Snow-woman!~ " the eight-legged Battle Nexus owner announced cheerfully. The projection was cut not a moment later and presented on the opposite side of the arena before the Mad Dog was you.

The (h/c) woman looked just the way she did the day the yokai had sang goodbye for the last time. Pressed white kimono and cold (e/c) eyes. Not sparing a single look to the commotion from the crowd behind her. That deadly gaze was locked on him. Beautiful.

Had not been for the agreement that Donatello had struck up with the British spider demon Donatello would've just stolen you away right then and there.

Like the fog they pumped in for your dramatic grand entrance you glided down the champion runway. Not at all inhibited by the fickle geta you used to complain about. Time slowing down for Donatello the closer you crept towards the ring.

Once locked inside with him Donatello could feel a switch flip inside of him. At first he was so happy that you were actually here and not some false advertisement promoted by Big Mama to lure the softshell turtle into her Battle Nexus. Though as soon as the endorphins left his system the mutant's veins were flooded with a different kind of emotion. Possessive anger. How dare the snow demon just leave him like that. The Mad Dog had given her whatever she desired only for the woman to have the audacity to turn around and leave him after she ruined him like this. It's her fault the ninja turtle felt like this. The demon assistant needed to be held accountable.

Without warning catching the techie turtle off guard you bolted forward. Only allowing Donatello just a second to react in time to protect himself from the icicle blade that formed in your (Dominant hand) hand somewhere between your dramatic entrance and attack. Regardless of its origins, the elemental weapon held up against the thick metal of Donatello's tech-bo that he defended himself with. Not wasting any time the softshell shoved the Yuki-Onna off with his staff before returning the attack with some strikes of his own. From there the two of you traded blows.

Some length of time passed before you began to show obvious signs of fatigue. The combination of the heat radiating off the stadium's overhead lamps and the overexertion of your abilities weakened you enough that eventually all you had left to keep the purple clad Hamato away was the wave of ice that blew forth from your pouting blue tinted lips.

What a nuisance

Had you known all those months ago that you'd be back here in this damn Battle Nexus fighting for your freedom, you wouldn't have ever agreed to that seemingly straightforward task. Befriend the purple clad turtle, get some Intel on Baron Draxum(maybe more) and get out. Simple. Until it wasn't. Donatello was becoming too close, too demanding, too far gone in his own delusion of what he called love. So you dipped.

How ironic you left because you didn't want to deal with the turtle's possessive emotions only to end up fighting against said techie genius for your freedom. Damn Big Mama and her stupid whims. If you managed to win this match. You were for sure never going back to the eight legged entrepreneur. Didn't want to risk being placed in a similar situation like this again.

Rolling around all over the place like a RPG character in a boss fight Donatello manages to eventually draw closer to the defrosting Yuki-Onna. Timing it perfectly to slap a muzzle onto your mouth the sudden action catching you off guard causing you to stumble back. Clawing at the metallic restraint that retracted and locked around your jaw.

Seeing his opportunity Donatello knocks you down onto your ass before activating the electrical prongs in his tech-bo. In a swift move the mutant turtle held you down with his foot as he stabbed the ends of the built in taser into your stomach electrocuting you until your vision went dark.

The moment that it was declared the (h/c) haired woman was down for the count. From the surrounding stands a roar of excitement erupted within the colosseum all at once. The cheers of spectators barely drowned out only by Big Mama's announcement of the purple coded mutant's victory. Giddiness evident in the jorogumo's tone despite being out a helper.

However that was not what Donatello was concerned about.

Not wasting another second in hitting the button on his tech-bo allowing the contraption to retract into its small tubbing and to be put away. Leaving his three digit grasps open to scoop up his prize. Overwhelmed with finally having you in his grasp once again the purple coded Hamato completely forgets about his own battered state. Inky pools focused solely on the unconscious yokai that haunted his waking thoughts and dreams.

From behind him Donatello could hear the arrival of a group of footsteps. Standing up with your figure resting in his arms Donatello turns to face Big Mama as she struts towards your guy's battered figures. Two yokai bellhops following dutifully behind the spider demon boss.

" Fufufuh looks like some-bitty-body is a happy winner~ " the business woman teased as she approached. Stopping just in front of the two of you as she analyzed the scene with amusement.

" What a show! I'm soooo pleased that you were able to win dearie~ However there is still one little last itsy bitsy part of our deal you're forgetting~ " the spider demon chided playfully. Although her tone was its usual playfulness behind the lenses of her teal cat-eye frames the jorogumo held an impatient look.

"Oh how could I forget?" Donatello replied sarcastically as he released your legs holding you up against his plastron as his free hand reached back into his battle shell to grab his and your ticket out of this mad house.

" There. Everything I could find left over from Baron Draxum's lab that was salvageable " the softshell turtle said flatly as he threw the flashdrive towards the fox bellhop to the right of the Battle Nexus owner. The fox not wasting a second to handed the flashdrive over to it's boss.

"Splendid! Well~ you better get going young purple one. Yuki-Onna's don't respond well to heat and today is supposed to be terribly hot! Better hurry~" Big Mama warned whimsically as she began to walk away back towards the direction of her luxury skybox.

With that out of the way Donatello doesn't waste a second longer standing around in the middle of the Battle Nexus arena. Quickly the mad dog recollects your figure into his arms bridal style fleeing the Battle Nexus arena and hotel as quickly as possible.

Once out of the mob boss's reach back on the surface Donatello couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. He made it, he found you. The creature caged in his chest was pleased. Content that he has you at his side once again and this time the purple clad softshell was gonna ensure things would be different. He wasn't gonna let you leave him in shambles again. He was gonna make sure you needed him as much as he needs you.

After all it was like what Mikey said:

"The heart wants what it wants"

And his wanted you even if your's didn't want him.

++++++++++++++++++++++

¶¶ Author's Notes ¶¶

Guys so as I was writing this I was thinking about how the Kraang could've affected Donatello and Raphael in the long run.

Like obviously PTSD but what I mean is like cray cray wise.

Like both Raph and Donnir had fused with the Kraang Hive mind in some form or another.( Raph mind controlled/possessed, Donnie mind melded )

I'm just saying there's gotta be some sort of side effects from that experience. Like having a harder time differentiate between reality and hallucinations. Or possibly maybe their brains chemistry has been fucked up making them more aggressive/possessive? Idk

I'm thinking about writing/or elaborating further on this in a future post. Yandere scenarios of course.

I just got a lot to write but, you guys know me. I'm all over the place~

Anyways thank you guys for bearing with me and my rabbling. I hope you guys have a great day!

Thank you for reading!

Sorry this is long↓ I don't own these memes. I've never claimed to do so. I just come across them on Pinterest when I'm on break at work and think they're funny so I like to share them. If I mistakenly put one on here that I shouldn't have please let me know! I like to respect people's wishes. And if you could add the creator names too that would be great so the same mistake isn't made twice. Sorry for the inconvenience that my sharing may cause. I hope you have a good day.

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