#i may be tired of your bullshit but never your lips

[fettuccin-e]

Patience Long Gone

Kinktober Day 4: Thigh Riding

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, afab!fem!reader, thigh riding obviously, praise, dry humping (yeah that's right nobody gets naked), Jackson!era, Joel talks dirty yeah I said it (w/c: 1.1K)

A/N: Ayo first Joel fic and it's during Kinktober ofc. I have been reading too many Joel fics to not partake in the old man thirst okay. And also have you seen this gif??? I want to ride that man's thigh like its a rodeo okay!! (For the month I have been following this list by flightlessangelwings!)

He can’t fuck you like he wants to, not right now. And God, Joel wants to, so badly. But there’s no time. There’s never any fucking time.

He hadn’t minded the hustle and bustle of Jackson when he and Ellie first arrived. He’d been grateful for the distraction, for the feeling of being useful again. He’d been grateful for the patrols, the odd repairs around town that didn’t require any socializing, content in his solitude with Ellie safe and sound within the town’s walls.

And then he’d met you. Sweet, soft, you, that doesn’t take any of his bullshit, forces him out of his shell with your sharp wit and endless patience. You, who Tommy introduced to him as the town veterinarian, until you became so much more. You, who asked him to fix your doorframe so, so sweetly, and not five minutes into his work, dragged him into your home and into your bed.

He never truly left.

But there’s no time to treat you like he wants to, fuck you like both of you need. There’s always something else, a threat at the border, an emergency in the stables. He hasn’t seen you cum in weeks, and the thought makes him shudder. He has the most beautiful woman in this entire godforsaken world, and he can’t even find the time to make her feel so fucking good.

It’s one of those few moments where you both are home, exhausted but not nearly tired enough to sleep. You’d crawled into his lap like a damn cat, planting yourself on his thick thigh, all languid grace and allure that has his cock aching in his jeans.

You curl two fists into his shirt, pulling him to your lips, and fuck, this is nothing like the stolen kisses you share in the spare moments you find with each other. This is water in the desert. This is life, not just survival. You’re so fucking soft against him, you scent invading his nose.

“Missed you,” you breathe between kisses, “Missed you so much, Joel.”

He groans, curling his fingers into your hair. He licks softly at your bottom lip, begging wordlessly for you to open for him. You do, without hesitation, and moan in a way that has his head spinning as he licks into your mouth. 

“God, sweetheart,” he grumbles as you break apart for breath. “You’re so goddamn pretty. Missed you too, sweet girl, been missin’ you so fuckin’ bad.”

He lets his hands explore you, roaming down your back, up under your shirt to feel that soft, soft skin. He paws over the curve of your ass, and he can’t help but smirk into your mouth as your hips buck forward.

“Needy,” he drawls, but he pushes on your ass again, making your hips buck forward along his thigh. Fuck, it’s good, the way you moan so pretty for him. “You wanna cum, pretty girl?” he croons. You nod so hard he thinks your head may fly off, but you seem to think better of it far too soon for his liking, shaking your head, as if to dismiss the very thought of chasing your own pleasure.

“I’m supposed to help Maria- fuck,” you curse as he leans down to sink his teeth into your neck. “I’m supposed to help Maria with the horses, Joel.”

“She can wait,” he growls, and he pulls on your hips, dragging you up his thigh. You keen involuntarily, the seam of your jeans pressing so hard, so perfect into your clit. “Just want you to feel good, wanna make you feel good.”

His voice is dark, a rasp that has your pussy soaking through your panties. He’s so big, so broad, and his thigh is providing a kind of pressure against your cunt that you haven’t felt for so long. It’s too much of a temptation for you to ignore. You pull your hips back again in a slow, sure drag, before humping back forward. You tuck your face into the crook of Joel’s neck as you let out a high-pitched whine.

“Good fucking girl, sound so pretty for me,” he murmurs, “Don’t that feel nice?” 

You nod frantically into his skin, hands fisting into his shirt so tight your knuckles go pale. You hump your hips forward, again and again and again, moaning as your clit throbs in your panties. Joel’s grip remains tight on your hips, helping you along, pressing you down harder. Your head swims, tears springing to your eyes.

“Need to cum,” you gasp, wriggling your hips in desperate little grinds. “Need to cum so fucking bad, Joel, fuck- I’m, I need it, ah-” You feel desperate, needy, unable to string together a sentence is you hump Joel’s thigh like an animal.

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, grumbling and wonderful. “I’m gonna make you cum right now, okay sweetheart? And when you get home tonight, I’ll be here to do it again and again, right baby?” The thought has you aching, desperately humping into his jeans. You’re so close, you’re so fucking close.

“I’ll lay you down in our bed, sweet girl, and I’ll eat that pretty cunt out like you deserve, fuck, haven’t tasted you in so fucking long.” Joel pulls you along his thigh as he speaks, flexing the muscle underneath that makes the pressure so much more devastating. “And then I’ll sink my cock into your pretty little pussy, fuck you full of me, baby. I’ll keep stuffin’ you full, make you cum so much you soak the sheets through, and I’ll just keep goin’, right baby? God, I’ll make sure you can’t fuckin’ walk tomorrow,” he snarls his words, a violent, primal promise that has your body quaking in his hold as you cum against his thigh.

You sob with the force of your orgasm, curling into Joel’s solid body as he holds you through it, cooing into your ear how good you are, how gorgeous you look. It’s like you can’t suck enough air into your lungs, trying to get ahold of yourself again. Joel never lets you go, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

When you finally regain control of your breath, your body, you can only tilt your head to his lips to kiss him softly, gently. 

“You didn’t get to cum,” you whine, and Joel chuckles at how forlorn you sound. His beautiful, perfect girl, so caring, so doting.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he grumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “When you get home tonight, I have plans for both of us that’ll have us wrung fuckin’ dry by mornin’.”

#you know what they say #save a horse etc etc #love you joel love you love you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou smut

[cammys-imagines24]

°•NSFW Abby Headcanons•°

Abby likes when you yank on her braid. Either to pull her down to your height for a kiss or when she's eating you out, how you tug on her hair as if it were a horses reins, guiding her to exactly where you need her.

Size kink. This woman gets off on the fact that she's so much bigger than you. How, if she wanted to have her way with you, there's absolutely nothing you could do to fight her off.

Her whole body was practically made to dominate you and make you suffer (in a good way.) From her big, calloused hands, to her meaty thighs, her thick, buff arms and substantial height.

Just the thought of her being able to easily maneuver your body and use you in anyway she pleases gets her so, so wet.

How she could deny you your own pleasure and you couldn't fight her off... but, she's much too giving to deny you for too long. Unless you're being a brat of course.

Not into choking per say, however... Abby's hands just look so nice around your pretty, little neck. She'll place her palm around your throat to guide you to where she wants and so your eyes stay on hers, but never will she squeeze. She doesn't want to accidentally hurt you.

Loves to stretch you out with her thick fingers. The sight of her fingers disappearing in your tight hole does something feral to her and with every digit she adds, she can't help but growl.

Heavily into marking and by that I mean, you marking her. There's just something about how when she's pounding into you with her strap, the way you claw into her back...

Your nails dragging angry, red lines down her shoulder muscles and the curve of her spine to find purchase as you scream her name.

She'll admire those scratches in the mirror the morning after endlessly. Smirking at the memories of you two that flash in her mind.

Obsessed with how soft you are compared to her. Your breasts and ass, the malleable flesh she can grab on your tummy and your squeezable hips. There are times where she will be walking by you and just have to slap your ass just to see it jiggle nicely for her.

Sit on her face. It's one of Abby's favorite things and don't pull that hovering bullshit.

She will force you down onto her mouth and nose with her herculean arms and keep you there even if you protest.

Her nose bumping against your clit, her tongue expertly moving in between your folds, her hands leaving imprints upon your thighs from how hard she's forcing you to stay still on top of her.

The type to say the most sugar sweet praises while she's absolutely pounding you into the mattress.

"I love you, you know that? You're so good, so good for me, hon. Taking me so well."

Your cheek pressed against the sheets, her big arms caging around you, thick fingers kneading bruises into your hips. A handprint on your ass.

"Love you, baby. You're the best. All pretty for me, huh? So beautiful when I'm fucking you."

If she could get you pregnant, she would 100%. There's just something primal that clicks in her head when she's using her strap on you. She wishes it were a real cock and she could really fill you up.

Abby's thought about you two having kids more than she'd like to admit.

The type to have the softest aftercare ever, all traces or her dominance stripped bare.

Abby may have used you until you thought you'd pass out, never relenting despite how much you begged for a break, given you so many orgasms you thought you couldn't breathe and you saw stars in your tired, teary eyes...

But, as quick as the snap of a finger, she turns into sweet, caring Abby once more.

She'll wash you clean, smirking at how you whimper from being still so sensitive and run the calloused pads of her fingers along the bruises she left from manhandling you.

You won't be leaving her arms anytime soon. She'll engulf you in her warmth, kissing the love bites she left on your neck and whispering how much she loves you.

"My pretty girl, always so perfect. Rest up, yeah?"

She'll say in a low rasp, lips against your skin and your body encompassed by hers.

#the last of us #tlou #abby anderson #tlou abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson headcanon #abby anderson imagines #abby anderson imagine #tlou x reader #tlou headcanons #tlou imagines #tlou fanfic

[imyourbratzdoll]

Saw your angst post. So hears my idea and you can decline if you want to.

Bucky and reader been getting into a major arguments about how he’s been gone/ going on to many missions and reader ends up thinking he’s cheating on them. Anyways one day he comes home from one really bad mission and they fight and reader confesses and Bucky being angry in the moment says something that heist the reader’s feelings.

You can decide if you want it to stay an angst ending or have fluff one :)

hello, sorry this took so long. I hope you enjoy it, gonna be honest, it made me tear up haha.

summary - bucky shouldn't have gone on that mission.

warning - swearing, angst and maybe some heartbreak.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

Y/n frowns, her eyes cast down as she stares at an old photo, focusing on the person smiling back at her, wondering where it all went wrong. One day she and Bucky were happy and in love, and now.

There’s been a cloud above their heads, and smiles turned to frowns, loving words turned nasty and hurtful. Y/n wonders if Bucky really is out on missions, wonders if he’s found someone better instead.

A sniffle fills the room, and she thinks it may be time to confront him. Y/n hears the door open, making her quickly stand up and run her hands down her face as she wipes her tears away. She straightens out her clothing, trying to make herself presentable, gently placing the photo back down before walking out of the room.

The moment she exits the room, her eyes connect with his tired blue ones before slowly taking in the dark bruises covering his gorgeous face and noticing the slight limp he has when he steps forward to place his things down. Bucky grunts, eyes moving away from Y/n’s as he heads toward the kitchen to grab a drink. Y/n nibbles on her bottom lip before making her way to the kitchen, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to find her words.

Bucky slams his fist down on the counter before swiftly turning and glaring at Y/n, “What? What could you possibly want right now?!” He runs a hand down his frustrated face, feeling the anger from his mission bleed into his relationship. 

“I–I” Y/n’s brows furrow, trying to find the words she’s looking for. She begins to fumble with her fingers as his glare cuts through her. 

“You what?! Can’t you see that I’m not in the mood for your bullshit right now?! I don’t see you going out and saving people!” Bucky takes a deep breath in, feeling his anger roll through him like waves, his fists clench by his side. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?! Be more like….” He pauses before turning back to his drink.

“Be more like?! Who? Who the fuck should I be more like?!… So it’s true.” Y/n shakes her head, turning and storming off to the bedroom. Stopping short as a hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her back.

“What’s true?!” Bucky’s brows furrow more, lips curling into a snarl as he glares down at the love of his life, not understanding the heartbreak she’s going through and probably never will.

“That most of your missions aren’t missions! That really you are off with someone far better, and you just proved it!” Tears begin to well up in Y/n’s eyes as she tries to pull herself free from Bucky, wanting to get far away and not hear him confess. 

Bucky tightens his grip, pulling her tightly against him. “Are you fucking serious right now?! So while I’m off risking my fucking life and you do fuck all with yours, you think I’m fucking someone else?!” Bucky’s anger builds faster, not noticing the look on Y/n’s face as he breaks into a laugh. “You know what, so what if I was! I come home, and we fight. You don’t show me any fucking attention anymore.” He leans down, face lining up with Y/n’s as he stares deep into her eyes with a sneer. “So what if I was fucking someone better.”

A gasp falls from Y/n’s lips, tears freely falling now as she manages to pull free from the man she thought she once knew. “Y–you don’t mean that….” She begins to shake her head, not wanting to believe it to be true, wishing that this was all a horrible dream and that she’ll wake at any minute with a sweeter, softer Bucky comforting her. Not this monster that stands in front of her.

Bucky chuckles, turning his back on her as he gulps the rest of his beer. He shrugs, ignoring the pounding in his head as his other side, the loving side of Bucky, pounds against his mind, begging him to shut up, begging him to grab hold of her and not let her go, screaming that he only loves Y/n and he hasn’t even looked at another woman. The Bucky on the outside winces at the voices and pounding in his head whilst walking over to the couch and sitting down. He watches as Y/n leaves. Her bags are packed as she looks sadly at his emotionless face. He grunts again as the man inside him screams, heartbroken and begging to stop her. 

Maybe Bucky shouldn’t have gone on that mission.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

part 2

#imyourbratzdollasks #lokiandbuckydollask #imyourbratzdollwork #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan #thank you #sebastian stan x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fic #bucky fluff

[steddiealltheway]

After a steady amount of failed dates, Steve finally breaks down. He can’t stop the thoughts that maybe he’s broken and unlovable.

He takes a six pack from his fridge and downs the first beer on his way to the backyard. He sets the five remaining drinks by the pool and immediately gets in - not bothering to strip off his clothes. He floats in the center, closing his eyes, trying to not think about Barb or Lover’s Lake or the fact that apparently he’s a bullshit boyfriend and always will be.

A short while later, Steve has downed four of the six pack and lays at the bottom of the pool, staring up at the surface. The water muffles the sound of a car pulling up in his driveway, but he hears it nonetheless. He prays that it isn’t his family.

He sees something move by the surface of the pool, and then the still surface breaks. He sees Eddie of all people diving in beside him, panic clear in his eyes until he sees Steve’s moving. He still grabs onto Steve and pulls him to the surface.

Eddie gasps for air and possibly in fear, pulling Steve into his arms. “I thought you were a fucking goner, man. What the fuck are you doing?”

Steve clutches onto Eddie hard and replies, “I was clearing my head.”

Steve can feel Eddie shake his head as he paddles them towards the edge of the pool. “In your jeans?” Eddie questions but Steve doesn’t reply. He pulls himself out of the pool and lays on the concrete reaching out for another beer he knows lays nearby.

His hand is smacked out of the way, then Eddie sits next to him. “What’s going on, Steve?”

Steve looks Eddie in the eyes and instead asks, “Why are you here?”

“Well, we had Hellfire tonight and-”

“Dustin!” Steve sits up and gasps.

Eddie instantly grabs Steve by the shoulders. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. I gave him a ride home. Told him I would check on you.”

Steve nods. He isn’t even a good babysitter anymore. It’s stupid, but the thought pushes him over the edge. Eddie’s pulling him into his side in no time, letting Steve bury his head into his neck and wet hair. Maybe he won’t notice the tears added into the mix of pool water.

Eddie runs a hand through his hair, and pulls him in closer. “Let’s get you inside before you get hyperthermia and Dustin never forgives me.”

Steve didn’t even realize he was shaking. He guides Eddie into his house, not making eye contact with him. He hears the chatter of teeth behind him though and slowly turns, taking in the sight of Eddie with his nose red and lips blue. He’s almost forgotten that he had jumped in after him.

Steve rushes upstairs into his bathroom and turns on the water for the tub. He yanks a towel out of the closet and goes to hand it to Eddie. Instead, Eddie reaches into the closet and grabs three towels saying, “Don’t worry about me right now. Let me take care of you.”

Steve melts at the words, but he immediately wants to protest. This isn’t him. That isn’t his role. He wants to say something, but Eddie beats him to it and demands, “Take off the wet clothes.”

Steve’s eyes widen and his heart races. Eddie must notice this because he rushes to say, “Except your underwear! I’m… I’m going to as well. If that’s okay with you. Can’t exactly take a bath and avoid hypothermia with wet clothes on.”

Steve just nods because it makes sense and he’s too tired to think. He sluggishly tugs off his shirt but struggles to undo the button on his pants with shaking hands. He finds Eddie’s hands hovering above his. “May I?” Eddie asks.

Steve whispers, “Yes.”

Eddie easily pops the button off and pulls down the zipper sliding the jeans down. Steve swallows thickly. Eddie helps to remove his wet socks as well and throws the clothes into a pile. “Get in the tub please.”

Steve doesn’t protest. He climbs in noticing that Eddie must’ve turned off the water at some point. How long did it take for him to take off his sweater? He almost asks but then Eddie is shucking off his clothes ungracefully, and Steve loses all track of his thoughts.

He makes his way to the tub, awkwardly crossing his arms slightly shivering. Steve can’t decide if he’s trying to cover up, warm himself up, or both. Probably both.

Steve stands up and gestures for Eddie to climb in. He does with his eyebrows raised in confusion. “You sit first,” Steve mumbles, hoping Eddie doesn’t refuse or question him.

He doesn’t. Steve looks down at Eddie and settles between his legs, pressing his back against his cool bare chest. Eddie doesn’t tense up like he expects him to. Instead, he reaches out and grabs the shampoo off the ledge. Steve hears the telltale squirt of the shampoo bottle and feels Eddie massage his scalp.

He relaxes into the touch and closes his eyes. “What were you thinking about earlier?” Eddie prompts.

Steve’s too tired to fight the question. “I’m unloveable.” It’s simple. It’s fact.

Eddie’s hands pause for a few moments and then resume their motion. “And why do you think that?”

Steve sighs. “The only real girlfriend I had was Nancy, and according to her I’m just bullshit and that was all bullshit. And I can’t, for the life of me, find another girl on all these dates that I can actually connect with. And the one time I do it turns out… she’s not even interested in me. And never will be.” His head starts swimming simultaneously drowning with all his thoughts. “Plus, all these fucking kids don’t need me now that the world is saved for good. Maybe every once in a while for a ride, but I don’t know. But I can’t even remember to pick up Dustin. Robin has Nancy and doesn’t ever talk unless we’re working. So. Maybe… Maybe Vecna should’ve chosen me or something.”

Eddie’s heart thuds against Steve’s back and he can hear his breathing speed up after the admission. His soapy hands drop from Steve’s hair to his waist, thumbs making little circles near the scars from the bat bites. Eddie hesitates before dropping a quick, hard kiss on Steve’s temple. “You, Steve Harrington, are anything but unlovable.”

A tear falls slowly down Steve’s face and at first he thinks it’s Eddie’s, but as one falls on the other side, he realizes it’s his own.

“You are the most metal person I’ve ever met. With apparently the softest fucking hair.” Steve laughs at that and relishes in the feeling. Eddie continues, “And all the kids adore you. Need I remind you that Dustin worships you? Still does. In fact, tonight he spent half an hour going on about you because Will and Lucas were there to supply more things about the great Steve Harrington. And… I may have also joined in for a while.”

Steve tilts his chin up to look at Eddie, convinced that he’s joking with him, but the usual telltale smile is gone, replaced with sincere, watery eyes. Eddie stares down at him and adds on, “And Nancy adores you. Even though you and her didn’t work out, she would still die for you and nearly did. Robin is just caught up in a new relationship and will eventually come down from that high. She loves you every bit as much as she loves Nancy just not… romantically. And those failed dates well…” Eddie trails off dramatically before finishing, “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong area.”

Steve shoots him a confused look and asks, “Somewhere not in Hawkins?”

Eddie’s expression is incomprehensible. He takes a deep breath and says, “All I’m saying is, I find you pretty damn lovable.”

Steve stares at Eddie for a few minutes, letting the words sink in. Something has shifted between them, and Steve can’t understand what it is. Then, Eddie’s eyes flicker down to his lips.

Oh.

Oh.

Steve stares at Eddie and asks, “Are you saying that maybe the solution to those failed dates is right in front of me?”

Eddie freezes for a moment and replies, “Well, I would say right behind you, but depends on how figuratively or literally you’re asking.”

It’s such an Eddie thing to say, and it’s exactly what Steve needs right now. Laughter begins bubbling out of him, and he hopes Eddie doesn’t take it unkindly. But it’s so funny to Steve. Eddie was literally right in front of him the whole time.

Eddie the one who saved the world and nearly died doing it. Eddie the one who stayed by his side and went through the same process of recovery from the demobats. Eddie who is the fucking leader of the hellfire club, and still sometimes targeted in the community as a serial killer. Eddie who jumps into freezing pools and cradles Steve in the bath while listening to his darkest thoughts.

Steve laughter dies down immediately as he thinks - Eddie who is right in front of him now looking scared out of his mind, and Eddie who he needs to kiss right now.

Steve’s eyes flicker to his lips and he leans in the small distance that is separating them. He goes slowly, giving Eddie the time to lean in and meet him in the middle.

It takes a moment, but then Eddie is leaning in, too. They kiss gently, and it’s the most comforting kiss Steve has ever had in his life. He deepens it momentarily, hoping it gives Eddie the promise of more to come. As soon as he breaks away, he settles back against Eddie’s chest.

Eddie’s hands come up and continue running the shampoo through his hair while kissing him on the cheek every few moments, listing more and more reasons why Steve is loved.

And Steve feels pretty damn lovable.

#steddie #oops angst #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie bath fic #steddie bath #eddie munson #steve harrington

[quimichi]

I Read Your Twisted Wonderland 'When You Wake Him Up With Nonsense" and Wanted To Ask If We Can Get One With The Staff(With Staff!Reader) and RSA(With RSA!Reader)? 🥺

Feel Free To Ignore😭

Love You❤️ And Have a Great Day!

"=⌕ YOU WAKE HIM UP WITH NONSENSE / pt. 2

⌕ pt. 1 here

warnings: bad writing, as usual, some characters may seem ooc, I apologize, pet names, some might dislike those

summary: You wake him up in the middle of the night with some nonsense

characters: RSA, NRC Staff and Rollo x GN!Reader

word count: 1,995

a/n: some are shorter or longer, it's just that I find some characters hard to write or I write them like I view them :) I HOPE YOU ALSO HAVE A VEEEERY NICE DAY TOO!

Chenya

The sound of your voice draws his attention to you. His breath hitches as he tries to stay asleep. He does not respond, instead he remains still as a statue. It is as if he wants to hear every word you have to say. And he wants to keep sleeping.

"Chenya, Chenya, Chenya, Chenya...Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker." Your voice cuts through the quiet. Your words pull him out of a dream.

He opens his eyes, and he looks straight at you and whines. "Why you gotta pull my full naaaaame...jus' wanna sleeeep..." "Yesterday I saw a motorcycle on the sun kissing the curtains in a cow." He blinks, utterly baffled by your words. His brow furrows and he is at a complete loss with how to respond. Finally, he settles on a simple and tired, "Wha-?" "What I said." You are utterly illogical. It makes it nearly impossible for him to comprehend you.

Your mind is fascinating, weird. You're fucking dumb sometimes.

His lips twitch upwards. That's why he loves you.

"You make no sense, ya know." He signs hard, rubbing his eyes. "And ya woke me up for that bullshit...you gotta pay me back, you better."

Neige

The sound of your voice is so familiar, and the words hit him like a wave of cool air while he's asleep. His body shifts as he starts to respond in the depths of his sleep.

"Wha-" He starts to say, his words faltering on the cusp of waking. "Cutie are you...is everything okay?" he asks groggily, a bit of sleep still clinging to him. If he could blush in his slumber, he would have been scarlet in shame for how his words slurred and garbled on his tongue. He slowly sits up, looking more worried than ever.

"I just saw a chicken picking up McDonald's at the gas station for detention." The words catch him off-guard once more, and he stares at you with a small confused smile on his face. He tries to process what you've said, but finds it impossible without more explanation.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and he tilts his head to the side, looking way to adorable for his own good. His confusion soon gives way to a brief chuckle, and he smiles widely and nods, still processing your words.

"That's such a nice story!...You should tell me the ending tomorrow though..." and with that he pulls you back against him and pets your head gently before both of you fall back asleep. He's still confused tho...

Rollo

He begins to stir, slowly waking to consciousness. His eyes dart around the room, his vision blurred and unfocused as he sits up. "Mmm, yes?" Rollo could never be mad if you woken him up for a reason, a good reason.

"I forgot to tell you that the telephone told me about the flying elephant with rainbow eyes and silver shoes." Rollo raises one eyebrow at first, thinking you're playing a trick on him. The joke is too outlandish to be real. Even this is to stupid for you.

But seeing that you're serious, he has no idea what to say. He is speechless. Oh...so you are that dumb huh? At this point the lord can't save him anymore.

"Is...that so?" he finally asks. "Yes!" Rollo stares at you incredulously as you continue. Every detail you describe is nonsensical and unrealistic. But his gaze remains firmly fixed on yours, and his thoughts are blank.

He struggles to understand why you woke him up. Is this a game? He is utterly puzzled. And his annoyance is starting to seep in. But the look in your eyes is magnetic, and it is difficult for him to hold his frustration. He sighs, "You...you are truly one of a kind, are you aware of that?" But Rollo can't help but smile at you, you just had to turn his life upside down, huh?

Crowley

He stirs slightly, his eyes blinking slowly open. He opens his mouth to speak, but then he realizes you are next to him and closes it again. His expression is soft and delicate, like your presence is a beacon of light in the darkness, and all he can focus on is you. You'd be surprised, moments of his adoration aren't that rare.

"What is it?" he asks with a slight yawn, his voice still soft and sleepy. "So like, I cooked us a clock with sprinkles of snow and the clock then when away with the pan because of their date at the baseball doctor." In spite of his tired mood, he bursts into laughter. A hearty, full-bellied laugh that only he would be so amused by such ridiculous, nonsensical statements.

"Ah, my love. It seems you have discovered the wonders of a dream," the headmaster chuckles, running his fingers curiously through your hair. For a moment he ponders about what other kinds of nonsense you would utter, if this is what your brain conjures just during your sleep.

He chuckles again in amusement. "Do go on," he encourages you, still looking through you with a light in his eyes. "Did the clock turn into a frog? Did the frog wear green boots and sing rock songs in kitchen utensils?" He's amused, but he also wants to know.

Crewel

As you call to him, you can see his eyelids twitch underneath. Your voice seems to permeate his dreams. There is no immediate answer as his eyes flutter in a way that seems to indicate that he's trying to force himself awake but still struggles to do so. He turns onto his back, his head tilting towards the sound of your voice. After a moment, he finally manages to open his eyes with a low groan. His hand reaches for his forehead and rubs it, as though he's suffered from a particularly intense headache. But once he sees you, he stops, his eyes brightening at the sight of your face.

All the weariness seems to leave him in an instance, yet not entirely. He manages a smile for you. "Puppy?..." "I just ate a singing pizza who told me the story of the bees and the snakes who danced underwater." "Ah..." Divus manages a confused hum. It takes him a moment as he seems to try and work it out in his head.

"They danced in...underwater?" He asks, voice soft. "Underwater...is a body of water...but...how does one..." he looks away from you as he attempts to picture the scenario. After a moment, he shakes his head, chuckling softly into his palm. "No matter. That is quite a tale, indeed my pup."

Divus draws you close and wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your shoulder and hugging you tightly. His breath is hot against your neck, his muscles tensing underneath.  "Sleep..." he mumbles softly, his voice seeming to get thicker as a low growl rumbles from his chest.

"Or does my pup want to keep being disobedient?"

Trein

(Solid grandpa issues ya'll have here)

It is almost as you say his name that his eyes blink quickly. They become wide and concerned. "Dearest?" he whispers with a hint of urgency in his voice. Though his expression turns gentle as he notices you aren't hurt or sick. His shoulders relax. "Yuu, have you not been feeling well?" Mozus asks, his voice a soothing melody. After a moment, he sits up. The bed creaks with the weight of his shifting body. Even Lucius wakes up from his slumber to tip tap his way over to your shared bed.

"Did you perhaps catch a cold? I could fetch some medicine if you would like." He doesn't want to see you in pain, not even for a moment. Oh, how caring he can be sometimes..."My hair turned purple because I washed it with dirt in the afternoon 13 years ago on a full red moon at midnight."

Silence hangs in the air as you speak. Mozus's expression remains concerned; worried. And then it turns into a frown. "Ah... You must've hit your head. Or else you wouldn't speak of such nonsense" he says. Though he tries to conceal it, a flicker of irritation flashes across his eyes. Your sudden statements seem to have sparked his annoyance.

"Or are you perhaps playing a childish prank on me at unholy hours?" he asks sharply, tone becoming stern. "If there is nothing else you require, I believe you've wasted enough of your time together." He tries to keep his voice neutral, but is obviously still slightly peeved at your game. "I-Im sorry..." His anger melts at your apology. His face melts back to a soft expression as he pulls you into his arms. His voice returns to its soothing tone as he presses his lips to yours.

When he pulls away, only seconds later, there's a content smile on to his lips. "Do not apologize," he says softly, voice quiet. Yet you feel a surge of pleasure run through your body. You feel almost as light as a feather once again. "I'm happy you're in best condition."

Vargas

Ashton jolts awake as he hears your voice, immediately rising into a defensive stance as he looks at you. Protectively he stands before the bed frantically looking around for potential danger with both his fists up, ready to punch whatever lurks in your shared bedroom.

"It's okay! Is there something wrong? Are you hurt?!" he asks anxiously but wild as he still holds his position. "Wha--no?!" He reacted so fast you couldn't keep up. "Oh...!" Asthon blinks a few times as he seems to calm himself. He lowers his fists, though now he seems completely at a loss for words. He stares at you blankly.

"That is good," he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed about the situation, "very good, yes " he offers a small smile, though you can sense him struggling to gather himself. "...so I woke up because the curtains were running away from a wild toaster." Ashton blinks a few times, processing this information. He seems to ponder it for a moment and then... bursts out into laughter.

It's a loud sound, like a true suburban father laugh. It's a sound of complete delight. Though, it doesn't take him too much effort to bring himself back. "Ah... yes," he says, "Wild toasters. They are very problematic." He lets himself sink into bed again, and like before, you're to slow to react. Because the moment his head hits the pillow, he's gone. Snoring the night away...

Sam

"Hm?" The mighty lord stirs in his sleep. He pulls the sheets tighter around him, his body twitching in his sleep. The sound of his name being uttered by you seems to have broken through his slumber. "Wake uuuup~!" "Hm?" Sam finally looks up at you, his eyes barely open. They seem to focus on you, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room before he finally smiles. "Impy...?" He speaks in the softest of whispers, his voice almost hoarse as though it had been a while. "Did my friends wakw you...or...was it my snoring?"

"My shampoo ran out cause the towel used it for their skincare routine." "Ah..." He sits up, his expression still weary from sleep. Before you can even tell him to stop, he's already risen from the bed. He's practically half-asleep as he waddles towards the shop and comes back with a bottle of shampoo in hand.

He doesn't question you or the strange request at all. "There you go," he holds up a bottle of shampoo. "Only the best for my little imp, and since its you...its on the house" he says, although he looks like he's in a trance he does smirk at you.

"Thank...you?" You question as you take the bottle from his hands. Before you know it he drops face first into bed, "But...if ya need anythin' else...get it yourself...alright?" he mumbles into the pillow.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanon #twisted wonderland x reader #chenya x reader #neige x reader #rollo x reader #crowley x reader #crewel x reader #trein x reader #vargas x reader #sam x reader #nrc staff #Ncr staff x reader

[ghostkennedy]

Choke Me

~Leon Kennedy x female! Reader~

Word count: 2127

This is my writing for an anonymous request that I have copied below:

“I was thinking, (with a female reader please) it’s set just after the story of RE4 and you are Leon’s work partner and romantical partner, so (there is a scene in the original where he chokes Ada and this is kinda inspired by that) back in Spain he was momentarily mind controlled and strangled you. Now that you guys are back home the bruises have formed on your neck and he refuses to touch you out of guilt, but all you know is that he refuses to touch you, so you try to seduce him almost by doing stuff like wearing lingerie, laying seductively. Then one moment it almost works but he closes himself off again so you confront him and want him to tell you what’s wrong, then he tells you and you guys have a heart to heart. Then it ends in a smut!”

Content warnings: smut, sexual content, small argument, reader self-deprecating, choking, worship/degrading/praise kink meshed into one, love bites, oral (female receiving,) fingering, overstimulation, consecutive orgasms

!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!

“You know what? Fuck this. And fuck you too actually,” you said before pushing yourself up from the dining table, your chair scrapping across the hardwood floor. “I can’t even find it within myself to be sorry when you won’t tell me what I’ve fucking done. You see the issue with that, don’t you?” Leon sat completely still in his chair across from you, eyes wide.

He stumbled over his words, unable to formulate a response to your outburst. “I,” he begins before sighing deeply, “what?” He gave you a disbelieving look and it had you seeing red. Your hands were shaking at the confrontation playing out.

“Is this it for us then?” you asked, somehow managing to keep your voice level. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, you wanted to reach across the table and shake the man. Your heart felt like it was crumbling in your chest and your fight or flight mode was activating.

“What are you talking about?” Leon tilted his head and shrugged his shoulders at you. How was he going to sit there and act as if your reaction is preposterous? “Let’s just eat-”

You didn’t give him a chance to continue his suggestion. You had no energy and not an ounce of mental capacity to bullshit around with him anymore.

“No, let’s not just eat, Leon. You won’t look at me, you won’t touch me. Fuck, you can barely even talk to me. It’s like I’m not even here. I’ve never felt so,” your eyes scanned the wall behind him as you searched for the words, “I feel like I’m nothing. I feel so fucking shitty. And I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I’m really fucking tired of feeling this way. So you tell me. Is this it between us?”

You fell back down into your chair and let your head fall back. You let out a sigh to try and ease your nerves, but your lungs still felt like they couldn’t take a steady breath. You force yourself to take a few deep breaths before bringing your head back down to face Leon.

“Why would you,” Leon nervously bit his lip, “Why would you think this is it for us?”

“Because of the way you’ve been making me feel, Leon. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

“No, well, yes I was listening,” he struggled to maintain eye contact with you, “None of this has anything to do with you. Or with us. I’m just, I’m just struggling.”

“Struggling with me? I don’t understand. Help me understand,” you were basically begging him at this point. You would beg, plead, bargain your soul for him to just talk to you. You were partners, best friends, lovers, but he couldn’t even look you in the eyes.

“I almost killed you,” he said plainly.

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Well, a lot of things have almost killed me.”

“When I was choking you, it may not have been me doing it and I know it was out of my control,” he takes a shaky breath, “But fuck man. I was still there. I had to watch as life slowly left your eyes in my hands. Because of me. At my hands.” He seemed lost in his own head once again. “How do I get over that? Every time I look at you, I’m taken back to that moment.” His eyes had glazed over and he tried to blink them back into focus.

You quickly stood up from your chair again and climbed over the table to him. You knocked over all sorts of food and drinks, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care at all. You pushed his plate to the side as you sat down in front of him, your legs draping around either side of him.

You bring your fingers to his chin and slowly lift his face up to look at you. “Can I be honest with you, Leon?” you asked him as you gently ran your fingers across his jaw. He nodded as he continued to stare up at you.

An airy laugh left your mouth before you slowly shook your head. “I don’t think I was scared at all. I know it wasn’t you doing it, but I was still looking up at you as you were still looking down at me. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy that moment. It felt intimate almost. Felt like a level of vulnerability between us,” a blush slowly crept up your cheeks.

“You enjoyed me, nearly choking you to death?” he asked slowly.

“Well, not the almost to death part. But the choking was intense,” you shook your head and laughed, “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Leon’s fingers deftly ghosted over the marks on your neck as you closed your eyes and absorbed his touch. His fingers caressed the skin back and forth, over and over.

“I can’t get rid of the memories, but,” Leon paused, deep in thought.

“But you could cover them with new ones,” you finished for him. You two were so close that it was often easy to put together what the other one was trying to say.

His hand wrapped around your throat, each finger perfectly matched up with the previously left marks. He slowly applied pressure to your neck. You gulped deeply at the touch, only further pressing your neck into his palm. He didn’t cut off your air, but he slowed the blood flow to your brain.

Your brain went foggy. Feeling as if you were encased in clouds. You felt weightless, almost detached from your own body. It was blissful and the longer he choked you, the more arousal started to pool deep in your belly. 

His lips found your jaw, barely making contact with your skin as he left ghostly kisses up and down the edge. His hand fell from your neck as he stood up in front of you. One of his hands held tightly to your waist as the other hand tangled in your hair. He tilted your head back, fully baring your neck for him.

He left a line of gentle kisses across your entire throat. Not one dark spot was left untouched by his lips. He then started to suck deeply on the tender skin. Your legs were wrapped around his waist as he left a different kind of bruise over the previous ones. 

He gripped your jaw and turned you to face the decorative mirror across the room. “Look at you. Every time you see your reflection, you’ll be reminded of how much of a good girl you are for me. My good fucking girl,” he spoke darkly into your ear, continuing to firmly hold your jaw in his hand. 

He abruptly turned you back to him and his lips went crashing into yours. You couldn’t help but whimper as you rolled your hips into his.

His hands held your hips firmly in place, stopping you from grinding into him any further. “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he chuckled into your mouth.

“Please, I want you so bad, Leon-”

“Oh I know, and you’re gonna fucking take it too. But it seems you’ve forgotten just what you do to me. And I’m gonna have so much fun reminding you,” he pushed your back down onto the table, pushing your knees apart to make more room for him. A plate went crashing to the floor, but neither of you flinched, too caught up in each other to be worried about a worthless dish.

He pushed your skirt up until it was bunched at your waist, displaying your lacy panties with an obvious wet spot decorating them.

“All for me, princess? You shouldn’t have,” he tsked as he yanked your panties down your legs, causing you to yelp before tossing them somewhere behind you. He stared at your wet pussy, “Fuck. Glad I still have that effect on you, baby. You get wet like a fucking virgin for me, yeah?” 

You whimpered as your hips involuntarily raised up in search of friction. Leon dropped to his knees, his mouth level with your spread cunt. Your legs draped over his shoulders as he sucked little love bites into your plush thighs.

“Please,” you whined, “I need you to touch me so bad, fuck.”

“Of course, sweet girl. I’m going to stay on my knees and worship this sweet, little pussy until I’ve had my fill of you. You’ll never question who my God is ever again,” as soon as the words left his mouth, his lips were connecting directly to your clit and sucking harshly.

Your hips bucked up into his mouth as he continued his intense movements against your pussy. It felt like more than an oral fixation; he truly was showing you what it meant to worship something so absolute through his mouth on your pussy. 

He pulled his mouth away from your pussy and watched as he shoved two fingers inside of you. Your pussy was clenching around his thick fingers. The wet sounds coming from his movements were loud and downright pornographic. 

“Fuck, look at me, baby. Look how your pussy sucks up my fingers. Such a desperate fucking hole,” he instructed you as you looked down and watched as his fingers spread you open sloppily. You could see your arousal running down his hands and your thighs. It was at that moment that his fingers curled just right and found that sweet, sweet fucking spot inside of you.

Curses started pouring from your lips as you arched your back, allowing him to hit your sweet spot every time his fingers moved inside of you. With his free hand he reached up and gripped the back of your head, forcing you to look down at him.

“Fucking watch me when I fuck you,” he said harshly. Your mouth was hanging open as you panted uncontrollably. His mouth came back to your clit and he flicked his tongue over it so fast yet so gentle at the same time. You struggled to keep your eyes open as he created the perfect storm inside of you, slowly and persistently sending you closer and closer to your climax.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, his tongue devouring your clit and his fingers fucking your tight hole. Each second felt drawn out as the sensations overtook your brain. 

You were shaking and pathetically moaning beneath his touch. He held you so close to your release for what felt like an eternity before he fucked his fingers deeper into you and sent you soaring over the edge.

Your head slammed back into the table and maybe if you weren’t so far gone, you would’ve felt the pain of the hard hit. But that would be a problem for another time. The only thing you could think of right now was the hot, intoxicating pleasure wracking through your whole body. 

Your body started to tremble from the overstimulation as you tried to push Leon away, but he never slowed his movements. It was too much, the pleasure was almost painful. Your face felt like it was burning up as drool poured down your chin. If you had the ability to speak, you would’ve pleaded with him to stop. Your hands desperately searched for something to grasp onto, before entangling them in his hair.

You felt like you might start sobbing, but then your back was arching and you were coming again. The orgasm hit you harder than any other one had ever hit you before. It had you screaming, wrapping your thighs tightly around Leon’s head, and tears pouring from your eyes. It seemed to last forever, every muscle in your body spasming with pleasure.

Leon pulled away and leaned over you. He kissed your neck as you tried to catch your breath. You kept whining as the aftershocks coursed through you. Everytime you got a proper breath into your lungs, it felt like your clit would pulse and you would be whimpering again.

“Open your eyes,” Leon demanded and you immediately complied. “How do you feel? Have any doubts, baby?” he spoke condescendingly. 

“I feel fucking ravished,” you spoke breathlessly. Your huffing and puffing persisted as he chuckled at you.

“I’m not even close to being done with this pussy. You’re gonna take it and take it and fucking take it until you feel destroyed and worshiped at the same time. I’ll make you understand how it feels to be a God, baby,” he told you before spreading your legs open for him again. 

How will you be able to feel like a God if Leon sends you to meet him first?

~masterlist~

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #smut #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil 6 #resident evil smut #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #ghostkennedy

[simon-sehs]

proud (18+) pt 1

tags / cw: f!reader, angst, masturbation, asshole!simon

“I’m proud of you.”

You heard the phrase come from his lips in a dream. The two of you were on a mission, the minute details lost to the oblivion of your sleeping mind. What you had recalled was this; you and Ghost were fucked, and nowhere near the fun sense. Enemies everywhere and endless bullets. He got hit. Where? No clue. But, in typical dream fashion, you managed to get him out despite any and all logic and realism saying you couldn’t. At the extraction site, he had met your gaze and uttered those words: “I’m proud of you.”

And then you woke up, stupid fucking alarm blaring in your ears. You had debated getting some more sleep, but you needed a shower, your body rank from yesterday’s training that left you too exhausted for a nighttime rinse. You sighed and got in the shower. It had been a nice change of pace, your dream. Recently, they’ve been nothing but wet fantasies of your brooding lieutenant. You hated this little crush you were developing, knowing that nothing would result in it. Relationships were one thing, but hell, did the man even fuck?

Now you were aroused. Damn.

You cranked one out, rutting pathetically against your fingers in the shower before rushing the last of the washing. If fate was kind to you, you’d make it to training in time.

You did not.

“Christ, do you just ignore the shit I say?” Ghost snapped as you entered the training room. “Want you running laps, and I want to hear no complaints from your fuckin’ mouth.”

You sighed. “How many?”

“As many as I fuckin’ want. Get to it.”

Simon Riley was one difficult motherfucker to please. You lost count of the laps, which was a fool’s errand to begin with. You eventually found yourself falling to the floor, gasping for breath as your legs shook. Fuck, please don’t throw up in front of him. You didn’t catch what he said, your ears ringing and the blood pulsing in your head. But you did see his crossed arms drop to the sides of his body before shaking his head, and eventually leaving the training room. You felt like crying, but managed to hold in your tears… for now, anyway.

Days went by, then weeks. Training sucked. You couldn’t catch a fucking break. And then it happened.

You snapped.

“The fuck is your problem?!”

Ghost blinked, the only indication of his shock from your outburst, before his chocolate brown eyes narrowed at you. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You seethed. “I never complain. I was late maybe twice, sure, but I do everything you ask me, and all I ever hear from you is bullshit about how awful I am!”

He got close to you, and part of you wondered ‘Shit, I shouldn’t have done that…’ but at the same time, your tolerance for his shit was dwindling. Superior or not, he was pushing your limits for his own sick pleasure. You were tired of the pain, the aching, the fucking lack of a single, monotoned ‘good job’. Was that too much to ask?

Fuck, and now you were crying in front of him.

“All I want is to make you proud!” You sobbed out.

He stared at you. The tears in your eyes prevented you from gauging if he was glaring at you, or watching with pity… or whatever the case may be. Regardless of what emotion his eyes held, you couldn’t meet his gaze, and you just cried pathetically, there in the middle of the training room.

He sighed and dismissed you without a sliver of emotion in his voice. You stormed like a child to your quarters and cried some more, falling asleep quickly due to exhaustion of all aspects; emotionally, mentally, physically.

[part one] [part two]

#simon riley #cod #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #my writing #part two comin soon k thx

[dayasusays]

“say i love you”

bruce wayne x reader

my first experience in translating my writing into eng 😭 it’s not my first language, there can be a lot of mistakes (ngl i’m scared)

words : 1007

tw / cw : ??hurt comfort??? angst, maybe ooc sorry T-T

for better experience:

"what's going on with you?" you ask softly and take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. bruce doesn't resist, doesn't snatch his hand away. he looks up at you and tries to smile.

"nothing, sweetheart," he parries in an attempt to escape the exhausting conversation, "just... tired. again," he lifts your intertwined hands and leaves a kiss on the back of your palm.

god, he's not okay.

those running eyes, not typical of the strong, commanding wayne; those gentle touches in which you read the incomprehension of what's going on.

"bruce," your voice is caressing, sweet, "you're trying to get away from me," you don't sound upset, and you certainly don't sound angry.

"bullshit," his lips press together into a thin line, "you know i'm just busy."

"busy," you say again, "you're busy."

of course he's busy; being batman has never been easy, and you're someone who understands that just as much as he does, on every level. of course he's tired; the constant patrols, the scuffles, the villains leave wayne with little in the way of a normal life.

"but that's not the point, not the tiredness," you sit down next to him, parting your hands and resting one of your palms on his tense shoulder, which relaxes under your touch, "you're acting weird, more distant than usual."

bruce is silent, unable to admit to you that he's noticed it himself.

"do you even love me?"

"of course i do," wayne sighs, looking up at you, "to the moon and..."

"...and back five times," you finish for him and smile softly, "of course..."

...no. there was something in his words and behavior that you could latch onto.

"but it's like you still have something to say, love," you leave a brief kiss on his cheek, which he returns immediately.

"dunno," bruce resists, frowning, "i'm not sure."

it's as if he's completely consumed with guilt when you look at him like that, with all the love and tenderness you feel for him. all the anxiety in his chest gathers into a lump, remaining there as an uncomfortable feeling. wayne reaches up to kiss you, and of course you don't refuse - you've never refused to kiss him when he's in this state.

"talk to me," you whisper against his lips, your thumb gently smoothing the hollow between his eyebrows so he wouldn't frown, "i don't bite, bruce," you smile slightly, catching his tired breath and kissing him.

he doesn't even know what this is about, god, he really doesn't. all he knows is that he loves you to the core. he loves you for your endless tenderness, for your patience, for the fact that you never ever blame him for anything. bruce wayne just knows that he loves you deeply, but delicately, sometimes passionately, sometimes quietly, but he swears to himself that it's love.

"i dunno," he repeats, looking away for a few seconds.

"bruce?" you call to him, still softly, as he lets out a short, questioning sound, "i love you."

and inside he feels an inexplicable emptiness at those words. an all-consuming, black hole like emptiness.

"so do i."

"look at me and tell me you love me," you ask.

wayne looks up and looks into your eyes, feeling a lump in his throat.

"i..." he tries to start, a couple of times he averts his eyes, but comes back to you, "honey, i just..."

"say "i love you", bruce," you interrupt, slowly reaching up and squeezing his hand.

"i can't," he whispers as his blue eyes try to lock onto something in your shared bedroom.

you just nod.

no tears, no tantrums, no screaming; just a nod as you turn away from him.

"sorry," he squeezes your hand tighter, "i dunno why... why i can't."

it wasn't surprising to you; you may never have been the best detective in the world, like wayne, but you knew every thought in his head. you knew something was wrong just by the look in those soft azure eyes. there was probably no one in the world who knew bruce as well as you did; that's why now, when he lets himself cry on your shoulder and apologizes, you stroke his hair soothingly.

"i dunno why," he continues to whisper, "you're wonderful. you're the woman of my dreams," he grasps at you almost desperately and you catch yourself wanting to believe him, "maybe it's just a phase."

"you think so? that it's a phase?

"no, but i wanna think so."

you look around your shared bedroom and smile weakly. the windows are curtained, there's a hairbrush on your dressing table, his pen with a piece of paper; your two mugs, turned exclusively one way, with the same pattern.

you're in one of his shirts, he's in the pajamas you gave him last christmas; the soft blue one that matches his eyes perfectly has always suited him better than black formal suits.

you smell of shampoo, he smells of his cologne that he smelled of on your first date; the restaurant you celebrated each of your anniversaries in.

"this is home," you think, lowering your gaze to bruce and taking another look around the bedroom.

"even if you don't love me..."

god, it hurt so much to realize that.

"i still love you just as much."

"but this isn't about you," wayne responded, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, "can i be honest?" he's almost whispering against your skin when you nod,"i dunno if i can love at all."

but his truth was that he loved. he really did, but probably not as much as you.

your truth is that you love him too much; so much that you're willing to put up with everything from him being batman to the fact that he's not even a third of the way to how much you love him.

you can't remember a time when that same bruce wayne looked so broken.

it hurts you to look at him like that; it hurts him to look into your eyes.

#dc comics #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #hurt/comfort #dc universe #Spotify #batman #angst #star

[roosterbruiser]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 —— 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐁𝐎𝐁 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐏. 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟒.𝟔𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

It’s still quiet in the mess hall when you wring out the rag for the last time, bits of clotted blood and clumps of mud floating in the murky water.

Bob looks better--kind of. Without the mud and the blood obstructing his flesh, you see how peaked he is. There’s no color in his cheeks, in his chest. It’s all rushed to the stub of his left arm, which is red and swollen and angry. The bleeding has stopped, yes, but the burn is beginning to blister. 

Deep, deep down in your body, you know that it will get infected. Even if you’re cleaning it every half hour, even if you disinfect your hands as best as possible every time you touch him, you’re certain it will become infected. You’re just hoping that when the time comes, you won’t be at Camp Arcadia anymore.  

Phoenix is sitting with Bob’s head on her lap now, her palms against his cheeks. She glances at you from her lashes--watches you wipe your hands on your dungarees and then sit back on your haunches. When you tip your head back, eyes shut uneasily and throat tight and flexed, she can see that you’re bloodier than Bob. It’s matted over your skin, on your clothes, in your hair. She hasn’t noticed until just now.

“You could really give Carrie White a run for her money right now.” Her fingers are tangled in Bob’s hair. His scalp is hot to the touch--that’s good. At least she thinks that’s good. “Do you want me to wash you off?” Phoenix asks in earnest. 

Humming, you shake your head. Exhaustion is starting to lick the inside of your eyelids--it's saliva is like a paste, a paste that makes it harder and harder to keep your eyes open and on Phoenix. 

“You stay with Bob,” you tell her. You don’t move at first, your heavy head still tipped back. “I’ll wash up.” 

“Alone?” Phoenix asks. She furrows her brows. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” 

“I’m just gonna wade in the lake,” you tell her. You pause--an image of water kissing the bottom of your ribs thick behind your eyes. “Maybe I’ll ask Mable to wash away my sins. Think she’d jive with that?” 

Phoenix snorts, a smile tugging on her lips. 

“It would be the highlight of her summer.” 

You chuckle. 

“You know, if we were talking about anyone else, I’d say bullshit considering the--you know, the circumstances. But I know you’re right. Big time.” 

You and Phoenix laugh shortly--it’s tired and doesn’t take up much room in the warm kitchen. Bob doesn’t stir. And then, just as quickly as the laughter is born, it dies on the tiles shapeless and quiet. 

There is humor in terrible things and there are terrible things in humor. And as you and Phoenix settle back into your quiet lull, you wonder which this is. Holding Bob, who’s still pale from blood loss, sitting on the bloody tiles of the mess hall kitchen, joking about Mable baptizing you. 

Phoenix shifts. She’s baptized--her parents are Catholic. But Bob--she knows Bob isn’t baptized. Late one early May night, they talked for a long time about religion. Bob, a devout agnostic, explained his parent’s distaste for organized religion. He grew up Godless and will die Godless. 

“Are you baptized?” Phoenix asks you. 

You shake your head, sniffing. It’s like someone is holding dirty pennies underneath your nose. 

“No,” you tell her. “The ‘rents never got around to it.” 

“Never a priority, huh?” Phoenix asks. She curls a piece of Bob’s hair around her finger and then lets it go. “I get it.” 

Now you shift. It’s always made you uncomfortable to talk about religion in personal terms. Especially since people always assumed you were religious given your virginal status, which simply was not the truth. 

“I’m a lost cause,” you sigh quietly, finally. 

You scratch your head--dried blood flakes off. 

Standing up, you exhale so all the air is punched out of your lungs. Your legs are wobbly and the muscles in your thighs are burning, but you carefully maneuver yourself around Bob anyway. 

“Be careful,” Phoenix tells you. “Don’t get slashed.” 

“Brill idea,” you whisper. “Why didn’t I think of that?” 

And then you’re walking through the empty mess hall and your footsteps are heavy and echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Your heart is beating in your ears and your feet are so, so heavy. 

The exhaustion sitting heavy on your chest is so overwhelming that when the doors leading outside swing open before you even touch the handles, you almost fall back flat on your ass. You’re partly expecting to see the entity there in the doorway, wreaking of sulfur and covered in Bob’s blood, flesh stuck between its teeth. You think--maybe it’s finally come back to take me. Maybe it will take me and leave everyone else be. 

But it’s just Bradley standing there in the doorway, backlit by the golden sun.

And then all thoughts of the creature vanish. Jesus. You’re sleep-deprived. 

Bradley blinks in surprise, the tips of his ears still hot from his confrontation with Jake. He’s truly taken back by you for a moment--you’re so thoroughly covered in blood that you look hurt. Well, you look like someone dumped a bucket of pig blood over your head.  

You’re blinking at him, your eyes narrowed and your hands lamely by your side.

“Hey,” Bradley says. “Sorry, didn’t mean to…accost you.” 

Swallowing, you shake your head.  

“You good?” You ask finally, swallowing hard. 

Bradley nods. 

“Just dandy,” he tells you. 

He lets the door fall shut behind him and you’re able to open your eyes fully without the sun pouring in the room. 

It’s quiet for a moment. The sticky air is melting the blood on your body all over again--so much so that you can feel it dripping from your thighs down to your calves. It’s pooling in your socks again. 

But the quiet, muggy air doesn’t distract you from all the blood that’s gathered in Rooster’s face, his throat. He’s pissed, you realize. Like breathing hard, lip-twitching, eyes narrowed kind of pissed. 

“What’s grinding your gears?” You ask him. Then you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “If that isn’t too dumb of a question.” 

“Hangman,” Bradley answers, rolling his eyes. He pauses before adding, “He’s really gone for you.” 

Shifting uncomfortably and slapping a mosquito off your thigh, your eyes fall to the floor. Rooster’s just watching you, hands on his hips. Your brows are furrowed and your lips are flat. 

And suddenly, things feel stilted--awkward. 

You care a lot about Bradley. You care a lot about Jake. Jake made you cum and taught you how to shoot a gun and you had sex with Bradley after he told you about his parents then Bob’s arm got hacked off. All these feelings are still here in your body, amalgamating in the tips of your fingers and your littlest toes. 

Things are stilted. Things are weird. 

Bradley’s thinking about how blissful everything felt hours ago. He’d told you he loved you. You told him to kiss you. He can remember the way your lips felt, open and gasping, when he pressed into you all the way for the first time. How thoroughly his you felt. Finally his. Just you and your body and just him and his body. 

Then he thinks about how it crumbled. All of it--gone, just like that. 

“Birdie?” Bradley says softly. He takes a half-step closer to you. 

You don’t look up. 

“Yeah?” You whisper back. 

“Do you regret it?”

Still looking down, you shake your head. You know what he’s talking about.

“No,” you whisper. “I don’t.” 

He thinks, as he stands here before you, that this was never the way things were supposed to go. You were supposed to have sex for the first time and then it was supposed to just be you and him--that’s it. You and him. Sunlight, dewy grass, blue sky, fresh sheets, kissing each other’s throats, making goo-goo eyes at each other across the mess hall, holding hands at the bonfire, skinny dipping after midnight. 

And now it isn’t just fucked up, all of it, but he’s fucked up--he’s hardly asked how you were. He knows how some girls feel after their first times and he knows that it’s his job to make sure you feel good about what happened. But between Bob and blood and searing skin and morphine and all the confusion, he’s been lost. 

“Are you…Jesus…are you, like, okay?” He asks. His hip is jutted as he speaks, his brows furrowed and his eyes wide with earnest. “I know I was supposed to, like, bring you a muffin in bed and, like, pick you some flowers--!” 

“--Shut up,” you whisper, an exhausted smile tugging on your lips. “You’re such a cornball.” 

Just the sound of your voice, which is entirely exhausted but amused, makes him grin. It’s that easy for him. 

“I was gonna write a song, too,” he continues, grin growing wider and wider. “Perform it with just a sheet on.” 

“I would’ve left the cabin,” you tell him, finally meeting his gaze. 

And, oh--there it is, clear as day. His eyes are pouring into yours and they’re crinkled with joy amidst all this shit because he’s looking at you. All the love you’ve ever known, you’ve ever even come close to returning, is sitting pretty on his eyelashes. 

It nearly knocks the breath out of you. 

“Well, in my dream scenario, you’d be tied down,” Rooster says. 

His eye falls in a wink--quick and discreet. 

“Didn’t know you were bad like that,” you tell him. 

And then you take a moment to stretch out your body, reaching the tips of your fingers to the ceiling. His eyes drift to your thighs, which are slick and flexed.

“Depends on who I’m with,” Rooster says. He can feel all the rage in his body, the rage Jake put there, fading fast. “You bring out a different side of me, I guess.” 

“Giving me a big head over here,” you say with an exaggerated eye roll. “And you think Jake is gone for me, huh?”

Rooster grins. 

“Like when I lay it on thick?” 

Another eye roll. 

“Oh, you’re really giving it to me.” 

“Well, if we had it my way, I would still be giving it to you--!” 

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re hissing and shaking your head, nose wrinkled. You have half a mind to clamp your hand over his mouth, but you don’t want to stain his lips with blood. And really, if you do anything to his mouth, you want to kiss it. 

There’s a pause, both of you just watching the other. 

“You regret anything?” You ask softly, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head immediately. 

“Regret not doing it sooner,” he says. 

Heat floods your face. 

“Right,” you whisper. “You’re such a romantic.”

And just as you’re about to squeeze past him and walk to the water before you get too ditzy, Phoenix suddenly bursts through the doorway. Her knees are bowed and her eyes are wide and there’s tears running down her face.  

Rooster watches in real time as you shift. That slight slump in your shoulders, the heaviness in your eyes, that lazy smile, the earnestness in your irises--it disappears immediately. Your rigidness returns, stiffening your spine and pulling your lips down and turning your body away from him. 

“What?” You ask--that edge is back in your voice. 

“Bob,” Phoenix says. She swallows hard, shakes her head. “He’s waking up!”

And before you can respond, just as you’re about to start for Bob and Phoenix with all thoughts of wading in the lake entirely vanished, the mess hall doors swing open again. Everyone, in complete tandem, turns to see who’s coming. 

It’s Jake and it’s Javy, standing beside each other with their chests heaving and their faces drained of any color. They’re each holding something, blinking rapidly at everyone dispersed around the mess hall. 

“Gale,” Javy says, stepping into the hall and shaking his head. “I found the--I found the weapon.” 

“Weapon?” You say, shocked. 

“The weapon,” Jake utters. “Like, as in, this is what cut Bob’s arm off.”

Coyote drops it on the floor--the bloodied ax he and Jake found on their walk back over. Jake was the one who’d seen it from afar, shining underneath the sun, nestled in the rocks and mud outside their own cabin. 

It was not exactly hidden and it was not exactly in plain sight either. It was placed as if it’s user was playing a game--testing the intelligence, the observance of the counselors at Camp Arcadia. But when Coyote said as much to Jake, Jake doubled over and vomited on the rocks. 

“I’m freaking out, man,” Jake had admitted. 

And he is still freaking out now as he stands before you and Bradley in the mess hall, your face horrified and stony as you stare down at the ax.

You step back--Bradley puts his arm in front of you as if protecting you from them. Any other time, you’d shove through his makeshift barrier. But you’re shaken right now and that doesn't happen often.  

“Jesus,” Jake says. “Someone slashed the tires, too. With this.” 

He throws the Swiss army knife on the floor and it clatters just like the ax did, clagning to a stop right by your feet. Jake looks at you, an apology on his lips, but then you’re leaning down and grabbing it. 

A shrill chill slices through the middle of your chest--numbs your toes and your fingers. There’s ringing in your ears and your heart is in your chest and all these people are here and you’re so tired and oh God--Mable wasn’t lying. 

Everyone is stuck still watching you as you hold the knife in your sticky hand, gazing down at it as the blood drains from your body and pools in your lower belly. You’re so full of fear that you feel like it’s bile pushing up, up, up your throat. 

“What is it?” Jake asks finally, breaking the silence. He hasn’t been able to stop shaking since he found the ax--which is covered in blood and bits of Bob. “Gale, what is it, honey?” 

Bradley doesn’t move when Jake steps closer to you. Jake stares at him for a long, hard moment. But he doesn’t challenge Bradley--not when he can hardly look at you on account of the gore you’re covered in.

“What’s wrong?” Javy repeats. “You’re skeeving me out, Gale!”

“Mable told me the Devil…she told me someone cut her with a Swiss army knife,” you say. You say it only just loud enough for the room to hear. “She wasn’t bullshitting us. She wasn’t fucking bullshitting us.” 

You don’t give anyone a chance to respond. You hand the knife to Bradley and meet his eyes again--his brows are furrowed now, his cheeks are reddened again. 

“Put this in the nurse’s office,” you tell him. “Tuck it in the back of a drawer so no one can find it. I mean it, okay? Not a soul.” 

He nods once--suddenly very sober. 

“Why?” Javy asks. 

“We’re not gonna make it easy for them,” you say. 

Your throat is dry. So is everyone else's.

And then you’re jogging back to the kitchen. 

Bob’s blinking up at the ceiling in the kitchen, his eyelids like sheets of rock over his dry eyes. Everything is blurry--the water-stained planks, the wooden walls. At first he isn’t sure why and he can’t even wonder about it because of the pulsing of his entire body. The pain isn’t very bad and for some reason, he knows it isn’t natural. He knows that he’s supposed to be in a lot of pain right now. But it feels removed from him by one degree of separation, like he’s one on one side of plexiglass and the pain is on the other. 

“Bob,” he keeps hearing you say. “Can you feel this?”  

You’re coming in and out of his field of vision, a red blur, and he wants to respond to you but he can’t. He’s too out of it, too distracted from the severe numbness in his left arm. He wants to tell you that he can’t feel anything you’re doing. 

And then he’s freezing, fingers trembling, because someone is pressing an icy rag against his face. 

“Ow,” he whispers because it’s all he can manage to say. 

Phoenix leans in so her face is hovering Bob’s. She’s crying, smiling as she wipes his feverish face with the rag. 

“Bob,” Phoenix says--her voice is quivering. “You absolute dork. You really gave us a scare.” 

You’re making quick work checking his wound, disinfecting it. You’re half-listening to Phoenix talk to Bob as she tries to cool his fever, your heart racing. You’re laser-focused, carefully working around the stub. 

But then you roll his t-shirt back and it takes everything in your power to not faint, to not cry, to not scream. There it is, clear as the day is blue: red streaks moving away from his crimson, swollen wound. It’s angry and seared and pulsing and leaking. Infected. The wound is infected. Carefully, you keep rolling the shirt back and that’s when you see that it’s already spread to his shoulder.  

“What…what happened?” Bob asks, voice thin and strained. 

Phoenix sniffles. 

“You don’t remember?” 

“He’s been out for a while,” you remind her. Your voice is quiet, restrained. You roll his shirt down and stare down at your hands. “We don’t know if he hit his head.” 

Phoenix nods. 

“Bob,” she says softly. “You were…attacked.” 

And as soon as she says it, it all comes rushing back at hyperspeed. It hits him right behind the eyes--the memory of that night. 

Oh, yes. He was attacked. 

He was going to the latrine when he heard a noise by the water--yes, he remembers. It was an odd noise, one that he hadn’t ever heard before. It was a grinding--a quiet and severe grinding, like rubbing two rocks together at a hasty and constant speed. 

He had peered around the corner, the dim glow of the lantern his only source of light besides the paper moon. The noise was so constant that he had a hard time imagining it was man-made. But then he saw it--very faintly, just a silhouette: something by the water, hunched over, grinding something. 

Bob just watched for a long, long moment. He didn’t know what he was looking at, straining to see more in the dark. And as his eyes adjusted, the grinding growing louder and constant as ever, he realized what he was looking at. 

A man--a naked man.

Fear was like a noose around his neck, tightening and raising him up, up, up until he felt like he could only breathe when he stood on his tip-toes. Bob must’ve choked out a gasp, the reality of this horror dawning on him suddenly and overwhelmingly. 

The grinding halted--the naked man looked up and right at Bob. 

And even though Bob was horrified, even though he was stumbling backwards and away from the man with his heart in his throat, he had the distinct feeling that the man knew he was there the whole time. 

Something gnawed on his brain stem then and there: this was a game. This was about fear. This was about what he could get away with. This man wanted to be caught--knew Bob would hear the noise, knew Bob would come looking. 

“What the…” Bob had whispered in the dark. 

He started stumbling backwards, started to head back towards the cabin, his throat numb. 

And then the man suddenly stood--tall and broad, much bigger than Bob. And in his hands was a stone and an ax. That’s what the grinding had been, Bob realized. He was sharpening the ax.

Bob wanted to scream, but the petrification choked him so completely that he could only suck in a gasp, could only half-turn his body before he heard the thunderous footsteps closing the distance between him and the man. The rocks skittered and the cool night air plunged against his back as the naked man ran towards Bob. 

“Wait, I--!” 

And then the stone had come down on Bob’s head so hard that everything blinked into blackness. The last thing he remembered, the very last thing, was the taste of the earth on his tongue. 

Now he’s here, in the mess hall kitchen, and everyone is starting to crowd around him. 

“Do you remember anything, Bob?” Coyote asks. His face is a flat plane of concern, his lips twisted and his eyes narrowed. “Like, anything?”

“Give him a minute,” Phoenix hisses. “He just woke up.” 

Bob blinks and lets his head lull to the side. He sees you there, covered in blood, wearing your dungarees. Your face is hard as you pour something on a rag and start to press it down on Bob’s arm--

Bob chokes on the very breath in his throat. He pales all over, feels dizzy, almost keels over right then and there. 

“My-my arm!” Bob cries. “My goddamn arm!”

Phoenix turns her face when a sob ripples through her body. 

“I know,” you tell him. You’re working quicker now, more diligently. “I know it looks scary, Bob. I know. I know. But you’re okay. I’m--I’m really sorry, alright? It’s just--well, you’re alive, okay? And we’re gonna keep you that way.” 

Everyone around watches in real time as Bob comes to term with his missing limb. 

“This is so fucked,” Payback whispers to Fanboy. He shakes his head soberly, looks away from Bob when he starts to dry-heave. “We’re so fucked.” 

“Enough,” Hangman hisses. “You’re not helping.” 

He’s watching all the campers settle back into their groups, holding the shotgun in his hands. He’s scared enough already, so horrified that his fingers are quivering over the safety. 

“Shit,” Bradley whispers, glancing at Jake. He glances at Jake’s trembling hands. “Neither are you, butter-fingers. You can’t even look at him, can you? Or Gale.” 

Bradley knows what saying your name does to Jake. And Jake turns with a sneer on his face, ready to shove the butt of the shotgun against Bradley’s jaw, but then Coyote gasps in irritation. 

“Stop,” Coyote insists, voice hard. “Or I’m gonna tie both of you to the flagpole.” 

“Me?” Jake asks, incredulous. 

And somehow from your spot beside Bob, who’s writhing, you hear their conversation. 

“Yes you!” You hiss from your knees, bloody sweat dripping down your spine and staining your shirt. Everyone’s eyes go wide when you point to Bradley, too. “And you! The both of you need to--God, you need to grow the fuck up! There are real issues in the world--there are real issues here, right now. We don’t have a way out. We don’t have a phone. All we have is each other and that fucking shotgun. Lots of help that’ll be if the two of you keep trying to mark your territory. So--just--Christ, just fucking can it.” 

You’ve never spoken to Bradley or Jake like this before. Your heart is racing, your body is hot. You’re stuck on Bob’s spreading infection and suddenly, you feel like you’re on a time limit. And everyone is looking to you right now. 

Everyone is watching the floor, your words ringing in their ears. Fanboy’s skin prickles at your tone alone--God, he’s glad he’s not on the other end of it. Coyote just nods soberly at Jake and then shakes his head at Bradley. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Bradley asks. After the conversation the two of you just had--when you were so soft and so close--your words feel like acid rain pouring down on his sun-kissed skin. He glances at Jake, who’s staring at the floor. And that’s all it takes to push Bradley over the edge. “Here’s a grown-up thought that I bet no one else has had--have you even considered that the slasher is one of us? Has anyone considered it?” 

The room goes ice cold. No one says a word for a long moment before Payback meets Bradley’s eyes and shakes his head slowly.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Just…take it easy, man, okay?” 

Bradley’s skin is hot. The tips of his ears are red and plump as cherries. 

“No, no--fuck, if we’re really gonna get it all out in the open, if we’re all gonna hold hands and sing Kumbya while we wait around for someone to come fucking kill us…I’m gonna get this off my chest,” Bradley insists. He looks at you hard--you stare back just as stony. “Who the fuck is gonna hike their happy ass all the way out to Great Oaks, then hike all the way out to Camp Arcadia, just to kill us?” 

“Now isn’t the time!” Phoenix tries, still sobbing as she holds Bob’s tearful face in her hands. “Can’t you just get lost already?”

“No, this is important. I think we should all hear this if we’re gonna just sit around and wait, right? Entertain all the ideas! No bad questions, right? Right, Gale?” 

“Enough!” Fanboy snaps.  

“Let him finish,” you insist. Your lips are flat, your brows are blanched. “If it’s so dire.” 

He looks around the room--everyone’s staring at him. His fingertips burn with rage, his heart racing in his throat.  

“So, I’m the jerk now?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you. “After everything I’ve done--all the shit I did for you and for Bob and--!” 

“My hero,” you interrupt. Your voice is very quiet, very solid. You do not stutter, you do not quiver. And you can see how it burns Bradley bad. “What would we do without you?” 

Bradley’s jaw is flexed. 

“C’mon, guys…” Payback insists. His throat is dry. “We need to keep our heads.” 

“You’re cut loose, man,” Coyote says to Bradley. “Go.”

Just as Bradley starts to plant his feet on the floor, just as he about spouts off again, you hand your head and look at Bob’s wandering eyes. His face is wet with tears and his cheeks are red and the infection is spreading. 

“No,” you whisper. “We need to draw straws.” 

Everyone looks at you confusion. 

“What are you talking about?” Phoenix asks, wiping her nose.

“We can’t keep sitting here,” you decide. You sniffle hard now, voice seeped in exhaustion. “We’re--fuck, he’s right. We’re sitting ducks.” 

“But what are we drawing straws for?” Payback asks. 

“Someone has to go,” Jake answers for you. 

You glance up at him and although he isn’t able to meet your gaze, you know that he wants to. 

“No,” Fanboy insists. “No fucking way.” 

“That’s like--shit, that’s like sending them with a target on their back!” Payback says. 

“We have weapons,” you say softly. “Axes, knives. Two people can go. It’s a couple days to town, right? And maybe we still have those old walkies--we can check in or something.” 

“We do,” Jake pipes up. “I saw ‘em in the bus barn.” 

“Well, this is just great,” Fanboy laughs humorlessly. “You two would want us to go ‘cause your names won’t even be in the drawing!” 

“Why wouldn’t they be?” You ask. 

“You’re the nurse! You have to stay!” Fanboy says. 

You swallow hard. 

“Look…” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Someone’s gotta go.”

“Why? What happened to waiting?” Payback insists. 

“Bob’s arm is infected,” Phoenix says before you can. She sniffles hard, glances down at the red streaks. “She can be in the drawing because if she doesn’t go--if no one goes, then it won’t…” 

“It won’t matter,” you whisper. 

Bob’s ears are ringing. He’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open. You’re glad he can’t process anything that you’re saying now. 

“So, like…” 

“Bob’ll die,” Bradley says. He glances at you. You won’t look at him. He knows he fucked up and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Not now. “Simple as that. So, let’s fucking draw straws.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: BUT AT LEAST BOB IS ALIVE!!!!!

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

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[eideticallys]

You'll Always Have Me

pairing: javier peña x reader

summary: something about peña unsettles you. he has embedded into you so deeply that even though you keep saying his business isn’t your business, you end up following him. wherever he strays, you follow.

genre: fluff (& angst if you squint real hard)

word count: 1.3k

author's notes: hello! this is my first time writing for somebody else aside from spencer reid so i'm pretty excited about it. also, there's a taylor swift reference which i couldn’t help but add lol. anyway, i hope you'll love reading this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

YOU'D LIKE TO THINK YOU WERE IMMUNE FROM WORRYING OVER YOUR PERPETUALLY DEVIL-MAY-CARE PARTNER, JAVIER PEÑA. But, despite the countless bickering and borderline immature back-and-forth pranks between the two of you, you do care about the man, as much as you hate to admit it.

Unfortunately for you, Murphy, your other partner, knows that fact even though you've never said anything regarding the issue. It was as if being in a happy marriage gave the man a sixth sense or something. He knew that despite the disagreements, a part of you felt for Javier.

And so when Peña was rushing to get his leather jacket on and placing his gun in its holster, claiming another informant had vital information regarding the cartel, Murphy was quick to shoot you a look. The look saying, "Are you gonna let that impulsive dumbass meet with a sketchy informant alone?"

You groaned inwardly. You hate Murphy and his sixth sense. You decided right then and there, that you'd give him a piece of your mind once you're done making sure Javier wasn't endangering himself.

You headed to the parking area as soon as you could, knowing Javier he'd be off to God knows where in a minute. It seemed to be your lucky day because Javier hadn't left the area yet, preoccupied with a call, you deduced. Meticulously, you tiptoed toward the passenger side opened the door as gently as you could, and buckled the seatbelt before Javier finished whatever call he was on.

"Jesus, fuck!" Javier exclaimed. "What the fuck are you doing here? Get out!"

You merely raised one perfectly made brow at the man. "For a DEA agent, you scare real easy, Peña," You mocked. "You sure this is the right job for you?"

At this, Javier rolled his eyes and sighed. "I don't have time for your bullshit, Cariño," He emphasized the endearment, knowing you hated it especially when it came out of his mouth. "I have an informant waiting for me. Now, get out."

"No."

"What?" Javier scowled. "What do you mean no? Get out! I don't have time for this."

"No, I'm not getting out," You matched the scowl adorning his face. "I'm coming with, and besides, knowing you? You're probably meeting with an informant." You stressed the last word.

You hate using that card because it wasn't like it was any of your business whom Javier was sleeping with. It wasn't but you can't help it. It's not like it should matter to you even if Javier was taking an informant to bed. Because despite his reputation, Peña gets the job done. You need to get the upper hand if you want Javier to take you with him.

“Fine,” He conceded, tired of arguing with you. “And for your information, I wasn’t meeting Gabriela. If I ever did meet with someone I slept with, it wouldn’t be during office hours. I’m not that depraved.”

You merely scoffed, blatantly ignoring the small twitch you felt deep inside hearing another woman’s name come out of his mouth. You don’t care. You never did.

Javier buckled in and started backing out of his parking spot, one hand placed behind your headrest. You glanced at the man beside you who was focused on his task. You get why women would flock over Javier. He was attractive. He had dark locks that slightly curl at the ends, a crooked nose that shouldn’t look as pretty as it does but it makes sense on his face, full, pink lips, and golden skin. Calling him beautiful would be selling him short. Javier Peña was beautiful, so to speak. Distracted by the thoughts of your partner’s pretty face, you didn’t notice he was now driving on the street, looking concerned at you spaced out.

“If you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart,” Javier broke the silence. “I’d start thinking you’re in love with me or something.” The man chuckled at his quip to which you responded with an eye roll.

“I’d rather shoot myself in the leg than be in love with you, Peña.” You uttered sarcastically while Javier only chuckled. “I honestly don’t understand why women fall at your feet. You’re average.”

This seemed to offend Peña who raised one brow. “Right. Keep telling yourself that, laughed. “Anyway, it’s usually Murphy who’s up my ass bothering me. Why are you here?”

“Technically, I’m also your partner,” You replied. “I can accompany you whenever I want.”

Javier frowned, unconvinced by your proclamation. It was true what he said though. Despite being partners with him, you made it your job to avoid him at all costs unless necessary. He was a magnet for trouble and you were a stickler for rules—or that’s what you’d like to think. Going after narcoterrorists have pushed you and everyone else chasing after them to do something you never thought of doing when you first signed up for this job.

But it is what it is.

However, something about Peña unsettles you. For some reason, he gets under your skin as no one has ever done—no matter what you do, you just can’t shake him off. He has embedded into you so deeply that even though you keep saying his business isn’t your business, you end up following him. Wherever he strays, you follow.

“Okay, fine,” You gave up, kind of.

He won’t know if you’re lying, right? It’s not like he’d go up to your boss and ask her about her “orders”. Right?

“Messina told me to go with you. You keep getting yourself into some shit that you can’t pull yourself out of on your own. Plus, if it was Murphy who came with you, he’d get dragged in. Messina thinks I’m the only one stubborn enough to go against you.”

It was both the truth and a lie. Messina would most definitely say something like that as Javier and Steve were like two peas in a pod. But it was also a lie. You’d go after Javier, you just pretend you wouldn’t.

“Right,” He mumbled.

You stared out the window.

A few minutes later, it seemed you had arrived where Javier was meeting up with this informant. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you were about to step out of the vehicle when Javier held your wrist.

"Stay here," He instructed. "He might get aggressive. I never told him I was bringing someone with me."

"I can take care of myself just fine."

Javier rolled his eyes and sighed. "I know that, but please. Stay here."

"Fine!" You raised your hands in surrender. "But the moment I feel something's wrong, I'm following you. Got it?"

Javier stared at you wordlessly.

"Why'd you always have to be everywhere I am?" He queried. "It's like no matter where I look, you're always there tagging along."

You gulped as Javier raised his brow at you.

"Well, someone's gotta save your ass," You stated, crossing your arms to appear assertive. "You always get into so much trouble. Someone has to save you if something goes wrong."

"And that someone's you?"

"Yeah, that's me," You murmured. "You'll always have me. I-I mean I'll always have your back 'cause we're partners. That's what partners do. I'm your partner."

You looked out the window, avoiding his stare. You were certain Javier was smirking at you now.

"I know that partner," Javier retorted. "You'll always have me too."

You turned to look at him in shock, a pink hue dusting your cheek. Javier simply laughed at your blatant show of bashfulness and flicked your nose.

"You're cute," He chuckled as you gasped, ready to deny what he just said. "But I gotta go. Stay here. I'll call you when I need your help."

He quickly shut the door and ran toward where he was meeting his informant to avoid your scolding.

"Get back here in one piece, Peña!" You screeched at him. "I have so much to yell at you, you prick!"

Javier merely saluted at you mockingly and winked.

The nerve!

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[piecesofreeses]

We've Got You

Nick ignores his mental health in favor of staying on top of work. When his involuntary age regression catches up with him, Matt and Chris are there. 

Told in 3rd person limited (like most of my stories) where the reader has access to Nick’s thoughts, but not Matt or Chris’s.

DISCLAIMER:

This is an age regression fanfic! Age regression is a completely nonsexual coping skill and it is represented appropriately and correctly as it relates to my life. Regression can be positive in many circumstances, but not all. If you are struggling with your mental health or involuntary age regression, talking to a professional is always the best choice.

Hate will not be tolerated, nor will it be entertained. I will not give you my attention; your comment will just be deleted! Please don’t waste your time, just take your bullshit somewhere else!

One more note:

This is NOT incestual, nor is it sexual in any manner. The comfort Nick receives during and after his panic attack is purely loving, familial support. Yes! They cuddle! Yes! They hold Nick and rub his back! Yes! They share a bed for the night! No! None of that makes this “weird!” 

TWs: Panic attack, descriptions of the physical sensation of a panic attack, avoiding regression, swearing, lighthearted arguing, guilt for enjoying a pacifier

Okay on to the story!

Nick always tries to be the quick witted, loud, strong oldest brother. With the triplets spending so much time in LA just the three of them, more now than ever they have to keep each other in line. And yes, that means Nick has to take care of his brothers even when he doesn’t want to. 

Matt may be their transportation as the only brother with a license, but Nick still feels like he’s mothering them half of the time. He’s constantly sticking a hand between his brother's faces both literally and metaphorically. While Nick probably couldn’t love Matt and Chris any more than he does, they’re brothers; it’s impossible for them not to get on his nerves sometimes. 

Currently, the triplets are sitting in a parking lot about ten minutes from their house filming a car video. Nick is tired and has been a bit quieter than usual, leaving his quips and comebacks to a minimum, just listening to Matt and Chris rant. 

Suddenly, of-fucking-course, the two are arguing again. It’s something stupid about the song that’s playing in the background— no wait— it’s about Matt’s phone? Nick isn’t really sure, he’s just exhausted. It’s not the other boys fault; they can disagree and get at each other throats all they want in the car videos. Nick knows the fans love it, but in that moment he’s just so goddamn overwhelmed.

Nick tries to open his mouth to tell his brothers to shut the fuck up, but no sound comes out. He feels a bit like he’s sinking into the backseat, totally isolated from the argument in the front. Nick knows he’s fine, so why does he want to cry? Why can’t he get his words to come out?

A tear escapes and slips down his cheek. He tries to wipe it away but his arm feels so heavy and his fingers feel so clunky and they’re not moving the way he needs them to. Why is everything so hard?

Without even meaning to, Nick lets a little whine slip past his lips. Even though he hates asking for help, he’s sure he needs Matt and Chris. If nothing else, they need to turn off the camera, but apparently the fighting in the front seat is too loud, because the boys give no indication of hearing him. 

Oh no, Nick realizes as his mind gets even fuzzier, I’m slipping.

Nick knows he regresses if stress gets to him too much– his brothers know too, but God, it hasn’t happened in months.

He’s usually pretty good about preventing it by being gentle with himself, but it’s just been so fucking stressful this month. The end of the podcast just ended up being a lot of work and he didn’t have time to cater to his mental health the way he has to to make sure he never slips. 

This is the result, I guess, Nick thinks. Because he refused to show himself some goddamn love when he was big, his brain was forcing him to regress. And he didn’t get to pick when. 

“Matt?” The oldest choked out.

Still no response. Nick felt like he was sinking into his brain as everything started to feel eerily quiet, like his brother’s voices were coming from underwater. 

Maybe I’m the one underwater, he thinks as the whole world begins to appear muted in color. My sensory processing just conked out, didn’t it.

“Chris? Help,” Nick tried again, but it came out even quieter than the previous attempt. Despite his every effort, Nick felt his eyes well up. 

Why won’t they stop arguing? I need help! I need help and I don’t know how to get it! Someone please help me. Matt? Chris? Please help me.

It’s all far too much, so he closes his eyes and fights against his heavy limbs, eventually able to pick up his hands to cover his ears. He feels himself shaking gently and the first of his tears begin to flow down his cheeks. Apparently, Nick hasn’t breathed in a while, because suddenly he feels himself gasp involuntary. Fighting the sudden rush of air, his throat catches on nothing and he coughs out, forcing more tears to spill. 

Nick’s forearms are covering his cheeks from the way he's trying to protect his ears, and he feels them wet from how hard he's begun to cry. He convulses in a sob and finally, a loud enough sound comes out.

“Nick?!” He hears Matt yell. “Something’s wrong, Chris! Turn that shit off!”

They’re coming. They’re gonna help. Please hurry, though.

“Okay, okay I am. Go get in the back with him!” Chris’s response comes, quieter.

He doesn't even hear the door open, but suddenly Matt’s arms are around him. He’s wracked by sobs as his body relaxes into Matt’s chest.

It’s all okay. I’m okay. They’ll make it okay. 

Matt’s arms are rubbing Nick’s back as he shakes and he can feel how his tears have wet the shoulder of his t-shirt. A moment later, he feels the seat underneath them move like another body has sat down, and then he hears Chris’s voice. 

“It’s okay, Nick. We’ve got you,” Chris says gently. As Matt keeps touching him comfortingly, Chris keeps talking. 

“The camera is off and we can delete all the footage later. I’m so sorry we didn’t notice what was happening earlier. Matt and I are gonna help, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

“Chris,” Matt whispers, “Take him? I want to get us home.”

“‘Course,” Chris says. Nick whines and holds onto Matt, clearly comfortable where he is, but the boys are still able to switch who he’s sitting onto fairly easily. He's stopped crying and looks up at Chris as he pulls him into his lap. Chris is sitting properly in the left seat with Nick on his lap, back leaned against the door and head on Chris’s shoulder. It's probably illegal, but with the boy no longer crying, they won’t be taking any risks. 

As Matt gets out of the back and back into the driver’s seat, Chris haphazardly wraps the seatbelt over the two of them. Nick pulls his knees up and burrows his head into his brother's shoulder. Quietly, he pulls a thumb into his mouth before looking up at Chris as if waiting to be told off. He waits, half expecting to be called gross, even though he knows his brothers don't find his regression gross.

“Oh, you’re small, Nicky. How old are you?” Chris asks with nothing but love in his voice. Nick doesn't respond, just closing his eyes and sinking into the comfort.

“He’s small?” Matt asks from the front. “How old did he say?”

“Didn’t respond. I’d guess one by the thumb and how he was crying earlier,” Chris responds, petting Nick's hair and trying to make sure he doesn't slip out of his lap on the drive home. 

Matt sighs, “Okay, we’re only a minute away from home. What do you think we do when we get there? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him regress.”

“Well first get his pacifier, I don’t want his fingers in his mouth and longer than they have to be, but I’m pretty sure he’ll cry if I try to take them out without a replacement. Next… uhh… I don’t think he’s going to be chill with me letting go of him unless I'm literally putting him into your arms, but he seems exhausted. I’d say we all get in your bed and try to get him to go to bed? It’s late for all of us, especially for the baby,” Chris says, looking down at Nick and laughing quietly as they pull into the driveway.

“Alright, I’m going to come and help you stand up with him so you can carry him in. He’s not going to walk himself, is he?” Matt replies, looking back at the little boy curled into Chris with his thumb in his mouth. 

“No way.” Chris says, reaching to unbuckle them. Matt steps out of the car and opens the door for Nick and Chris. 

Sounding confused, Matt asks, “How are we going to make this work?”

“You just take him? I don't think I can stand up with him in my lap even with your help,” Chris suggests. Matt slots his arms under Nick’s knees and picks him up bridal style. Luckily, there is minimal protest from the little, just a whine and some still watery eyes. With Nick out of his lap, Chris climbs out of the car, shuts the door, locks it and runs up ahead of his brothers to unlock and open their door. 

Now that they are standing, Matt carries Nick with ease. Up the steps of their porch and into the house, the lack of strain on Matt’s face makes it appear as if Nick really is a baby. Chris smiles with the thought as he follows the two inside and closes the door behind them. 

“I’ll find his paci. Get in bed?” Chris calls out as he tosses the car keys on the kitchen table. 

“Got it,” comes Matt’s reply. Chris has no idea where the little’s paci might be, but it’s pretty important that he finds it, so he starts by tearing out the couch cushions to see if it's tucked underneath one of them. With no luck, he heads up to Nick’s room and strips his bed, checking if it might be in there. Unfortunately, the stupid blue thing is still nowhere to be found. 

Nick can hear Chris tearing his room apart looking for his pacifier as Matt carries him upstairs. 

He’s never gonna find it.

Too small to tell Matt where it is, he just tugs on his sleeve and looks down the hall to his room.

Fortunately, Matt gets the message. “Want to go help Chrissy?” Matt says and turns toward the sound of the rummaging. As they walk into the room, Chris looks at the boys defeated. 

“I can’t find it,” he sighs. 

“Losat,” comes Nick’s small voice. 

Oh no, are they going to think that means I lost it? No no, that’s supposed to be “closet.”

“In the closet?” Matt and Chris respond in unison, walking into the closet and digging through the junk on his closet floor. 

Oh thank God. 

Matt sets Nick down, leaning his back against the closet wall so he can move his shoes. Underneath, he finds a small shoebox covered in stickers. How promising. Opening it up, Matt discovers the pacifier and a couple small toys. 

“Bingo, Chris! It's right here,” Matt exclaims.

“Why’d you hide it away like this, sweet pea?” Chris asks the little boy, scooping him up like a koala. Nick doesn't respond other than a whine and rests his chin on Chris’s shoulder, facing the opposite direction. 

The boys walk out of the closet, Matt with a pacifier in hand and Chris with a Nick in… arms.

“I need to wash this off,” Matt says and walks into the bathroom. 

“Okay, bring it to us when you're done,” Chris says and hikes Nick up so his legs can wrap around his waist. Nick has one arm wrapped around Chris’s shoulder and neck and the other bent so his thumb can slip back into his mouth. “You ready for bed, honey?” Chris whispers into his ear as he leans over the bed, working to gently disconnect Nick from him. Eventually, he separates them, laying Nick down on his back in Matt’s bed. Chris pulls Nick's shoes off, brushes the little’s hair out of his face, kicks off his own Crocs and crawls into bed with Nick. He drags the covers up over them and pulls Nick closer to make space for Matt to lay on the other side of the boy. 

“Okay bub, I’ve got your paci,” comes Matt’s voice. Carefully, he pulls Nick’s hand away from his mouth and replaces it with the blue pacifier, slotting it between his lips. 

That helps. That helps so much. Why am I like this? Why does that help?!

Matt slips under the covers and wraps his arms around the boy. “Nick, honey, I can see you freaking out. It’s okay that you like that. It's not gross, it’s not bad, and Chrissy and I don't mind. We love you bubba.”

“Luv yous too.” 

#age regression #age dreaming #matt sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #fluff #comfort #sturniolo fanfic #age regressor #sfw #sfw littlespace

[miss-spookhead]

okay look: this blog may be deader than a doornail, but by god am i going to revive it so i can ramble on about a steddie how to train your dragon au

now hear me out--Eddie, obviously, is hiccup. an eccentric, outcast underdog of the highest degree. he may not be looking to prove himself like hiccup is, but the idea still works. what really matters is that he's different. he doesn't fit into the mold of what a dragon-killing viking should be, and maybe he takes a lot of pride in it.

what he doesn't take a lot of pride in, however, is his absolutely mortifying crush on Steve Harrington, the local dragon-slaying overachiever, chief's son, and all around air-headed jock whose confident douchebaggery has Eddie reeling at the very idea that he very much is attracted to him.

besides his humiliating crush on Harrington, Eddie sets his sights on two things more productive: discovering whatever there is to know about the dragons his village is so obsessed with killing, and aiding his uncle Wayne's blacksmith shop. and Eddie loves wayne, odin's beard he does--he calls Eddie his fucking son--but the old man puts a lot of belief on his beanpole excuse of a viking nephew.

like, wayne looks Eddie in the eyes with those sad, tired eyes of his, calls him son, and asks him to carry on his life's work. and who is Eddie to say no to him? he likes building shit. he has an eye for the artistic. he'd give the whole world to that old man just to make him the slightest bit proud of him.

case in point: he's hauling an actual catapult to the top of an empty hill in the middle of the night so he can give one of his newest builds a little test run. launch a spare bola into the forest, why not.

so, once he heaves the bola into the mouth of the catapult (which does a real number to his pissant limbs), his eyes wander to the inky night sky above him. they trace the blinking stars, and he feels this odd calm wrap around him. he can't even place the last time he's felt this at peace before in his life. it's never been so quiet.

he dashes the thought once he sees a blot of black nothingness engulf the stars, bit by bit in quick succession. like a shadow soaring through the night sky. something is out there.

a fucking night fury.

"shit." Eddie's hand slips, and down goes the lever. out goes the bola.

"shit!" clearly, it hits. a bellowing roar echoes from the sky, and there's a great rustle and thud as the dragon makes impact with the forest's trees.

Eddie stumbles backwards in shock. his mind is racing, positively buzzing like a hive of bees in his head. he hit a night fury. like, actually shot it down from the sky. using one of the bola catapults that he built.

now, Eddie, non-conformist that he is, wouldn't usually want to brag about taking down a godsdamned night fury with his own catapult to the common viking, Harrington be damned, but this. this is a real achievement. he can hold something above his stupid head and his beautiful hair. his ego demanded it.

and even if he wanted to stay tight-lipped about the situation, wayne still has to know.

and come the morning, he's got to prove it somehow.

"can't son," wayne says gruffly. he lugs the axe head he's been diligently hammering on into a bucket of cold water at his feet, then looks at Eddie with those droopy eyes. "someone has to keep shop, and I ain't discouragin' you from your little..." he trails off, yanking the steel from the bucket, "adventures."

frigg bless his heart for at least encouraging Eddie's bullshit, even when he's not an active participant. and maybe that's the worst part of their relationship, Eddie thinks, that wayne would very gladly shoulder all that burden, all that extra work just so Eddie could..well...be himself.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, even when he knows his uncle is right, but wayne shakes his head. he's got a solemn look about him, worn and frayed on the edges. it shuts Eddie up real quickly.

it's a wordless agreement.

so, Eddie turns heel, ready to make his way to the forest, and promptly collides with Harrington. the asshole probably sidled up behind him to collect whatever weapon Wayne's making without even considering that his nephew was trying to goad him into seeing a night fury. which said nephew took down himself mind you.

whatever. asshole.

"odin's beard," Harrington huffs, running a hand through his, sigh, perfect hair, "do you ever watch where you're going, munson?"

"apologies for not making way for royalty, cheifling," Eddie snaps, and stomps off. he can practically feel Harrington's dumbfounded stare even when he's out of sight. chiefling. that's a good one.

what he really should be focusing on is the night fury in the forest. the forest that he's lost in. the night fury that he shot down that's in the forest that he's lost in.

jord help him.

"--and you really went and did it, Edward," Eddie mumbles to himself, tone manic. he digs the toes of his boots into the soil as he walks, "you hit a dragon and you fucking lose it. you do something right--then poof! gone into thin air!"

"classic. fucking. munson"-- he kicks a sizable pebble on the ground in frustration--"blunder!"

it makes impact with the trunk of a fallen tree.

no--the tree is snapped in half. like something heavy fell against it. like a dragon. like a night fury.

quickly, he stumbles over the broken tree, over a few rocks, and he finds the body of the night fury, bound at the legs by the launched bola.

it's still. dead still.

Eddie swallows, hand unsteadily reaching for the knife at his side.

the night fury is a stark black, sleek and scaly. Eddie imagines how smooth it would be if he slid grazed the dragons skin with his hand. atop its head is a smatter of grey spots, from the tip of its head to its snout. kind of like dust.

Eddie blinks.

it's so...fragile looking. and, gods, he fucking killed it.

"look at it," he whispers to himself, half in pride and half in utter, stomach churning despair. "look at what you've done."

breath caught in his throat, Eddie pokes the belly of the dragon with the toe of his boot, just to make sure.

its eyes shoot open, belly sucking in quickly as it takes a sharp breath. it's leg pushes against Eddie, shoving him backward onto his ass.

"shiiiiiiiit!" he chokes out, quickly bringing himself to his feet. his legs wobble like a newborn lamb, and he crowds his back against the rock behind him.

his stomach pools with fear, and obviously, he does what he does best--

Eddie's halfway through a pathetic attempt to climb over the rock to get the fuck out of there, when the night fury whimpers behind him. his head turns slowly, heart beating like war drums, and he finds the dragons eyes trained on him.

Eddie thinks he might die.

he slides down the rock, grunting as he lands on his feet, and he stalks carefully toward the beast. he's white-knuckling his knife as the night fury's eyes keep following him 'til he ends up at its feet.

chest heaving, Eddie raises the knife, and the night fury drops its head in defeat.

but Eddie resolves not to kill the dragon. instead, he takes the rope binding the night fury's wings and begins cutting it, putting a whole lot of elbow grease into the effort.

and when he's done, the dragon stirs, pushing Eddie to the ground with its front legs, the pressure almost crushing the bones of his shoulders into powder.

it roars, spittle landing all over his face, and Eddie screams in response. using his entire chest.

the night fury reels backwards in surprise, blinking rapidly, then staggers further into the forest, leaving Eddie in the dust.

Eddie's shaky hands meet his shoulders in an attempt to sooth the pain. the shock. the confusion of it all.

Eddie--he...he did something. something incredible. he built a bolas and shot it into the night sky and hit a night fury. something no other person has ever done. not even perfect Harrington and his perfect hair and his perfect resolve when slaying dragons.

he hit a night fury--black and spotty--and found it in the woods. near death.

and he freed it.

if he were Steve Harrington, would he have freed it? would he have felt a sliver of empathy for the creature, or would he follow in the footsteps of his father and put it out of his misery?

does Eddie even want to be like Harrington? no. he doesn't. not in a million godsdamned years. he may be beautiful and strong and capable, but Eddie is nothing like the chiefling. and he's proud of it.

Eddie stares out into the mess of trees in front of him, listens to the distant stomping.

without scooping up his knife, he turns and runs.

#the best part about this au is that it 100% can be applied to ronance as WELL #speaking of robin i will definitely find a place for her here #also if anyone can't tell toothless is supposed to be dustin. yes this will be expanded upon if I have the time #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steddie #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #dustin henderson #alternate universe #httyd

[romanreignsistheonlydaddy]

Go the distance

Roman reigns x y/n

Warnings: comfort fic, bullying, possibly a part 2🤷 . Errors I may have missed

Tag list: @reignsangel444 @acknowledge-reigns @mindfulofmani @niknakbucks92 @pittieprincess22 @windhamsrotunda @wrestlezaynia @lonewolfy45 @shadyprincesslife @salirophiliac

_______

They always made fun of me in the locker room. No matter how hard I tried to show them I belonged here they always found ways to show me i never fit in. It didn't matter if I was myself or if I went along with what they wanted me to be. I gave up. I gave up hope thinking they were ever going to accept me for me.

A song most people would take for granted had helped me through so much self hatred. It meant the world to me. Sometimes when I was super upset and on the verge of tears I'd sing it to myself. "I have often dreamed of a far off place where a heroes welcome would be waiting for me! Where the crowds will cheer, when they see my face and voice keeps saying..."

I hadn't noticed him standing behind me while I was singing and his deep voice joined in my singing "this is where you're meant to be!" I turned around and something told me to keep singing "i will find my way! I can go the distance! I'll be there someday! If i can be strong! I know every mile will be worth my while!" I stopped and looked at him, tears on the verge in falling "I would go most anywhere to feel like I ... Belong"

He grabbed me in a hug, his strong Arms protecting me from the world around me. In that moment no one and nothing else existed except me and him. "Baby girl, dont let them get to you!" He whispered. I don't know why but hearing him say those words let the flood gates open and the pain i felt came pouring out of my eyes. "Shhh its ok. Let it out. Im not going anywhere!" He cooed.

As if fate has seen fit, one of the female superstars who had bullied me came around the corner and started in her usual bullshit "eww! Roman why are you holding her?!" She said laughing.

He pulled away just enough to whisper in my ear "I'll handle this" before turning around And looking at her "nattie! Haven't you had enough plastic surgery for all of Hollywood?" He smirked "how dare you!" She yelled and went to slap him but I step in and grabbed her arm "doesn't feel so nice when someone does it to you now does it? How's that taste of your own medicine feel bitch?!" I said before pushing her to the ground. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" She yelled.

"I'm the woman you bullied long enough and I'm tired of crying because your plastic ass doesn't have the confidence to be real and not a fucking Barbie! Get fucked nattie!" I said.

She stood up and turned on her heels "that was amazing!" Roman smiled at me "I knew you could do it!"

"it's thanks to you!" I leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek but The last moment he moves his head and our lips met. I blushed and he smiled "let's go to dinner tomorrow?" He asked.

"I'd like that!" I smiled "do you want me number?"

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and handed it to me and I put it in before handing it back to him "here I'll give you mine to" he said and i gave him my phone.

He handed me my phone back "I'll pick you up at 6!"

"I can't wait!"

#Spotify #roman reigns #comfort fic #fluff #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fluff #roman reigns x y/n #wwe smackdown #wwe fluff #wwe x y/n #roman reigns comfort fic #big daddy uce

[onsunnyside]

sonny, i need this man on some kind of bike. i wanna see him doing extreme downhill mountain biking or freestyle motocross. something that gets his adrenaline pumping and requires a helmet. i wanna suck on his lip ring and ride on the back of his motorcycle.

he looks like such a meanie. he 100% is set in his ways and still bumps the same music he listened to in the late 90s and early 2000s. maybe he’s a retired riding legend and he's been training and acting as a mentor to your up-and-comer boyfriend. you took a gap year or put off uni altogether to follow aforementioned bf around the country while he chases his dream, so when chris threatens to take it away, you use yourself as a bargaining chip.

oh, oh, or maybe he's your boyfriend's childhood bff and you accidentally get knocked up after a drunken hookup or some noncon, so you try to pass the kid off as your boyfriend's. oof. wait. i like this one. imagine taking your baby to competitions or races to see your bf and chris coming over to taunt you and talk to your baby, like, "you come to see daddy win? yeah, you miss daddy? tell mommy to let you come see me." and then he looks up at you and he's like, "maybe we can make you a little brother," with the evilest most self-satisfied smirk on his face. comments about how you make cute kids. forcing you to accept money that you don't need bc "i take care of what's mine". your bf made him the godfather and always has him around. i hate him. i'll have two. - bratty spice

BRATTY SPICE AKA @bimbofawn STRIKES AGAIN !! i don't know if i'd write it with Chris, bc i'm leaning towards total hunk Steve/Ari all tatted and pierced 😵‍💫

retired riding legend screams dilf, dark daddy who isn't afraid to ruin your boyfriend's career before it even starts.

dark boyfriend's best friend: NOW THAT IS SPICY (hehe). [dark thots drabble below]

he's always been controlling and inserting himself into your relationship, crashing dates at restaurants, movies, or even your bf's house. you let it slide for a bit until you had enough and brought it up with your boyfriend who told him to give you two some space. and Steve/Ari did not like that.

he gets his revenge by inviting you out while your bf is out of town to "make amends" but it's really just to get you vulnerable and alone. as expected, no one bothers you while you're out bc Steve/Ari looks terrifying and his quite the reputation. that night you two hook up, you're drunk and he's sober, taking full advantage of you, "I'm prepared, don't worry, baby." He says, rolling on a condom, only to take it off when you're fucked dumb in his bed. he fills you to the brim, grunting the filthiest things into your ear about owning you, claiming you, knocking you up (something tells me he knows all your kinks bc of your boyfriend or from perving on the two of you).

fast forward, you find out you're pregnant and know who the father is, and it isn't your bf. you don't tell him, and let him think it's is. Steve/Ari is smug as hell watching you grow his child, while your boyfriend/his best friend gets all lovesick about his baby and the future ahead of you two as a couple.

Steve/Ari supports you all the way through too. filling in for your bf at appointments (he takes up more work for your child), and not correcting strangers when they say congrats to the two of you. he drops by some nights too, eager to get his hands on your body, feel you all over, help with all those hormones while your bf is working long, tiring hours.

this affair stretches all the way to the child's due date, and after the birth is when you finally end the affair, only begrudgingly accepting his money. you may have ended the months-long infidelity, but you'll never escape him bc he's your child's godfather, and still your boyfriend's best friend.

me thinks... one night when your kid is off at your parents, you and your bf plan a date, and guess who shows up !! oh, but he's sulking about a 'broken heart' which is absolute bullshit and you know it. your bf falls for it so easily and invites Steve/Ari in, comforting his best friend about the girl he never knew he was dating: "she wanted to keep us private. she was scared of what people would think." it's so painfully obvious he's talking about you, going on and on about how this girl changed his life, and stole his heart before shattering it to pieces.

he ends up spending the night and takes the guest bedroom. your bf doesn't let you lock the door, "why would you need to do that?" and you can't answer that so you just go to sleep.

and well... Steve/Ari makes his presence known a few hours later, waking you up with his head between your thighs and a sick smirk, "you thought you could get away from me, baby? I own you." you immediately call for your boyfriend, even reaching over to tap him while trying to kick Steve/Ari away but it's all useless. He's is too strong and your boyfriend lies there, knocked out. "Wipe that look off your face, he isn't dead. But he won't be waking up anytime soon. Which means your real daddy has you all to himself."

UHM FIC ?? 🌚 PLS TELL ME IF YOU WOULD READ THIS BC I AM SO INTO IT also, i don't know which dark daddy to choose 🫡🫡

#tw dark fic #bratty spice anon #bimbofawn<3 #sonny drabbles #steve rogers #dark baby daddy au #dark steve rogers #chris loving hours #daddy’s edgy era #edgy dilfs #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers au #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson au #dark ari levinson #dark!ari levinson #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson fanfiction #tw stealthing #dark fic

[tommydarlings]

scrapped knee | a.b

pairing: dom!boss!austin x sub!intern!reader

warnings: smutty, light sexting, slight fingering

w/c: 0.7k

summary: Austin knew that as soon as he saw you messaging him 'Mr.Butler' that you wanted something specific, but what he didn’t knew was that you actually just wanted to tease him by showing you how wet you are for him.

my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me <3 // my Patreon to become a member! <3

You both knew that it probably wasn’t so smart to start writing dirty messages to each other during a meeting. But you two just couldn’t help it. Austin was the horniest person you’ve ever met and you were definitely also the horniest person he ever met.

'Mr Butler?' you messaged your boss before you looked up at him sitting right next you on the big table.

'Not now y/n.' He wrote back, knowing that when you call him 'Mr. Butler', that there’s a not so innocent intention behind it.

'Can you please just check real quick if my knee is still bleeding? I feel before I got in here and scraped it open' you briefly looked up at him as he turned his head and looked at you with a bit of concerning look. Your boss may fuck's you like you mean absolutely nothing to him but deep down you both know that you care about each other actually quite a lot, you just didn’t wanted to admit it.

He nodded at you before he tilted his head and gazed down at your legs, trying to see your knee but you obviously had other plans.

You only slightly opened your legs up, showing him that your not wearing any underwear, hand going down and slowly rubbing your clit. Your head was turned forward, pretending to be super focused on this unknown man talking about some stupid bullshit that you had no idea of. You never felt Austin's eyes staring at you so intensely before.

Austin slowly lifted his head again, biting his inner cheek while wearing a cocky smirk on his face. He quietly sighed before he threw his head back and positioned it on his chair. “Everything okay Mr.Butler?” One of the man asked the boss loudly, you slowly retreated your hand from your wet pussy before Austin spoke up,

“Yeah, I’m fine don’t worry Mr.Warrington, just a bit tired.” He answered before he threw a not so nice looking glance at you. You looked at him and gulped, scared that he maybe actually mentions infront of everybody what you just did. “Rough Night?” Mr.Warrington asked with an ugly grin while chuckling, the other man joining in. You only bit your lip and looked down as you started toying with your fingers.

“Yeah, you could definitely say that.” He answered as you all of a sudden felt Austin’s hand going over to your thigh, placing it gently on your naked skin, fingers going slowly up and down the inner way of your thigh while you put your arms on the armrest's of you chair, fingers slightly squeezing the plastic material as your boss's fingers got closer and closer to your wet cunt.

All the other man turned their head back to the big screen everybody was looking at again, luck for Austin, probably pretty bad for you. Mr.Butler slowly reached forward and grabbed his phone with his other hand that wasn’t so close to your cunt.

'Your in real big trouble little one.' He messaged you, fingertips gently touching your clit, tapping it and flicking it while he was looking down at his phone. 'Why?' You wrote back as you squeezed your thighs together, hands gripping your phone tighter. 'Open your legs again or I’ll open them myself and believe me, everybody will notice that then.' He typed quickly with one hand. You didn’t react quick enough for Austin’s likening so he pinched your skin with his thumb and pointer finger.

You briefly shot up from your seat, dropping the phone onto your lap as you immediately gripped the armrests besides you in a tight grip. You turned your head and looked at him but he didn’t even pay any attention to you before you opened your legs again and felt him collecting some of your wettnes.

'Fucking dripping for me already, fucking pathetic.' You read as soon as you picked up your phone again with a shaky breath. 'Sorry Mr.Butler.' You wrote with trembling fingers before you felt his hand going upward to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as your eyes rolled in the back of your head, biting back a moan.

'Don't be, that’s just how I like it.' He messaged you before he put his phone back on the table, hand still pleasing you. Before you could even type back something, you saw him in the corner of your eye leaning towards your body, arm balancing on his armrest before he tilted his head and whispered into your ear.

“Just how I trained my little intern.” He whispered quietly before he rubbed your clit faster, mouth being way to close to your ear for your current liking, making it all even more intense.

#fanfic #fanfiction #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfic #smut #dom!austin #boss!austin #austin butler x fem!reader

[noirvette]

WE NEVER EXISTED

[band smau]

[TEN - EXTRA]

masterlist.

prev. main part | next. main part

Note: Song used for Cartman's phone call is Sk8 Head by City Morgue

Eric Cartman was a character of greed, of manipulation, of exploiting those he believed inferior to him. Unfortunately for everyone else, Eric Cartman believed EVERYONE to be inferior.

He did not care for ethics nor did he care about morals, if a friend of his needed help he wouldn't even bat an eye in their general direction. Cartman was a firm believer in that everything happens for a reason. As stupid as that may sound, it's why Cartman got into the show business, into the world of entertainment, of fame.

It's why he created the podcast with his on and off again girlfriend, Heidi Turner. He wanted to cause karma. He wanted to show the world that when he exposes people for the whole internet to see, it's because they deserved it. Sure, he likes hating on people and sure he likes shit talking about people he knows, but all in all, for Cartman, his podcast is a way to bring shitty people down a notch, to show the world, "Hey, your favorite, is problematic." Why? It creates fame, it gives Cartman status.

And there is nothing more in the world that Cartman loves more that status.

It isn't rare for Cartman to get dms or business emails from people, influencers, fans, the works, trying to give him some gossip about their lives and who to expose next. What he doesn't often get? Phone calls.

For the past half hour, Cartman has received 14 missed calls and 3 voice messages from an unknown number claiming to have some of the world's most gossipiest information. Part of him would like to listen to the voicemails, but the voice changer that obviously masks the actual pitiful voice of the caller gives Cartman major cringe vibes.

"Who cares who you with? Are you scared? You scared! Who car--" Cartman groans and presses the end call for the umpteenth time that night, "Jesus fuck, give it a rest already, if I ain't answerin' then it's for a god damn good reason."

"Hmm..maybe you should answer it? Or at the very least just block it, Eric." Heidi hums out, spinning back and forth in her chair.

"I like the attention," Cartman answers back simply, Heidi scoffs at that with a "Of course you do."

"Just, all I'm saying is give the phone call a shot! You really never know if it's something good or not, and hey, if it turns out to be worthless information, you can at least slander the phone caller next podcast episode!" Heidi inwardly cringes at the idea she gave Cartman, but in her defense, she's sick and tired of hearing Cartman's phone ring for the hundreth time that night.

Cartman thinks for a moment, before turning around to face Heidi, "Heidi, I love you so much. You're right, I could just slander them next podcast! And expose their phone number if their information is worthless!"

Heidi offers a tight lipped awkward smile before working more on some details for the next podcast episode.

Cartman puts his feet up, now eager for the next phone call to come in, "Any minute now." Cartman thinks.

As soon as the thought leaves his mind, sure enough his phone starts ringing, "Hello?" Cartman picks up the phone and answers.

"Eric Cartman. You just now decide to pick up?" The changed voice questions.

"Hey! I'm a very busy man, do you know how many fake phone calls I get? I had to make sure you had some legit information, run a little test. You passed, of course." Cartman sneers out and Heidi glances up at him in fake amusement.

"I have a test of my own for you, Eric."

"Don't call me that--"

"The test is simple, answer a few questions, and you get your information." The voice on the phone sings out.

"The fuck? What kind of bullshit is this?"

Instead of responding to Cartman's last sentence, the man continues on, "How important are your friends?"

"What?"

"How. Important. Are. Your. Friends. Eric Cartman."

"Dude what the fuck? Are you some psycho? Like are you the next Ghostface? The fuck is this?" Cartman asks, bewildered. At this point Heidi has stopped working on her scripts and details and is fully engrossed into the one sided conversation she hears Cartman having on the phone.

"Answer, Eric."

"Jesus christ, I said not to call me that.." Cartman sighs heavily, "I guess they're somewhat important, I mean compared to other things they might not be but--"

"What about comparing them to your podcast?" The voice cuts him off.

"Okay, you're acting like a dick, do NOT cut me off dude. I don't care how juicy this information is, you're acting like a dick. SECOND, in comparison to that, whatever gets me the most views is what's important to me, so how does my friends fit into THAT, huh?" Cartman spits out venomously.

Silence takes over the phone call.

Cartman is about to hang up when he hears a faint, "You passed. Expect an email soon." And the phone is hung up.

TAGLIST: @captivq @kimiesstuff @bwljules @the-cooler-kira @1one1person1 @kenny-the-ken @neenieweenie @n0tangeliccc @revzxn @mirophobic @gonefiishiing @musiclovebot @bootsieboo @bonez4brainz @4xbei77 @1996kj @sweetadonisbutbetter @scinclaitnoir @okarigold

#we never existed series #kyle broflovski x reader #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader