#i think pat struggles with it a lot too - like with being unable to let go of carol and creating clubslike he used to do in scouts

[yutaleks]

Look away… I’m in my feels

“I can’t believe it—” you say the moment you’re standing in the threshold to the living room, cut off by Yuuta looking up at you and pressing a finger to his sealed lips. You oblige, of course, because it’s the first semblance of quiet you’ve had in hours.

Why?

Well, blame the little demon finally passed out on Yuuta’s chest—of course, you say that with all the affection in the world.

You tip toe across the living room, making sure to avoid the storm of toys splayed across the floor (no need to repeat the last time you stepped on a lego…). When you make it to the couch, taking the seat beside Yuuta, it’s a pleasant sink into the cushions, like a welcome embrace for your weary bones.

When you turn to your left, you’re greeted with the sight of the two most important boys in your life: your equally tired husband, Yuuta, with his dark hair messed and sticking up on one side, a t-shirt that has most likely been bitten and tugged at, and worn out sweats that have definitely seen better days; and on his lap, tucked beneath his chin, is your three year old, sleeping soundly against Yuuta’s chest after hours of running and playing and screaming and—

“Wanna put him to bed?” You whisper. It’s way past bedtime but it’s not until now that Akihiro tires himself out (you blame Yuuta for that one… he didn’t have the heart to say no when Hiro asked for candy before bed. What was he thinking?).

Yuuta pats down one of Hiro’s dark curls, tucking it behind his ear. It’s hard to be upset at the kid, even with how tired you are—his face looks so sweet, cheeks smooshed against Yuuta’s chest as he sleeps without a care in the world. His features look a lot like Yuuta’s too… when his eyes are closed, and not reflecting the color of yours, he’d pass for a mini-Yuuta. Which he would be, if he weren’t such a troublemaker.

“Mm.. not yet,” Yuuta hums. You can tell by the way he slumps into the couch and by the weary tone of his voice that’s he’s exhausted. But still, he brushes Hiro’s hair with a gentle hand, looks at him with the same warmth in his gaze that he always does. He’s always been kind and patient—but his step into fatherhood has shown you just how resilient those qualities about him are.

You reach over and mimick Yuuta’s actions, brushing your fingers over your son’s dark curls, and thumbing over his chubby cheeks. “He sleeps so well with you…”

The number of times you’ve tried and struggled to get Akihiro down for a nap, only to have Yuuta scoop him up and get him asleep in minutes, is rather laughable. You wager Akihiro feels safest in his father’s arms, which wouldn’t surprise you—Akihiro is obsessed with his father, after all.

“Maybe you should sleep with him, I’ll take the guest bed,”

“No, no way,” Yuuta rebuttals, his voice low. “I’d miss you,”

“I know,” you smile.

“Let him sleep with us, maybe,” Yuuta suggests, despite knowing you always tell him not to let him sleep in your bed. If Yuuta has one flaw it is being unable to deny Hiro a single thing in the world, sleeping in the wrong bed included.

You sigh, smiling defeatedly. “Okay, fine. Tonight only,” you tack on, even though this is a daily occurrence.

“Of course.” Yuuta gives Hiro a quick kiss on his head before shifting him around in his arms, moving to take him to bed. Amazingly enough, Hiro doesn’t even stir. “I’ll meet you there?” He whispers, a weary smile on his lips.

“I can’t believe this kid,” you huff to yourself, just the smallest bit jaded at how much better behaved he is around his father. And how easily he gets his way, too. Sometimes Yuuta doesn’t even believe the things you tell him that Hiro gets up to when he’s not around… maybe one day things will turn around and you’ll be the parent Hiro clings to.

But for now, you watch Yuuta rise from the couch with the sleepy toddler wrapped around his chest like a koala. Yuuta leans down to give you just as sweet a kiss as he did Hiro, on the cheek this time. And warmth blooms through your chest when you watch him walk away—somehow expertly navigating the mess of toys without even so much as looking down.

Yeah, maybe Akihiro’s right about being so obsessed with Yuuta—who wouldn’t be?

#yutaleks #writing tag #I’m not even putting this in the tags I’m shy #fluff makes me shy be quiet

[iamdeceived]

Something like: Rocket can't sleep for days. So Y/n makes him sleep like a baby. What do you think?

I loved the idea!

🦋Female reader (Although I put it here as a woman, gender is very discreet in this story!)🦋

English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes!

Warnings: There are no warnings!

WITHOUT SLEEP.

Rocket paced nervously, back and forth. Not really wanting to get anywhere. He had been unable to sleep for many days. Not for an hour. Rocket understands that being a different species, he doesn't need the same sleep schedule as the other Guardians. But going so long without sleep began to take its toll on the raccoon.

He was really tired. And could barely pay attention to their technologies.

The others may not have noticed. But you noticed.

~⁠♡~

The raccoon had its back to you, repairing the ship's wiring. You were sitting at a table, a few feet away. From time to time, he screamed at you , asking for some tools.

In a moment, he tipped to the side as if he was going to fall. And then he shook his head and sat back down.

"Rocky… Have you been sleeping?"

He turned to look at you.

"Sleep? I don't need sleep!"

His eyes blinked more often than it should.

He returned his gaze to his work.

"I found the problem! Just a little thread that came loose. Nothing too concerning. Quill that's a scandal!"

His head threatens to fall off. His eyes threatened to close.

You went to him.

"Rocket, since when are you without sleep?"

"Some days… No biggie, I don't even need to sleep!"

His body fell to one side. You ran to his side, preventing the raccoon from falling to the ground. You let the raccoon settle on your chests.

Her fingers brushed through the raccoon's soft fur.

"I don't…need to…sleep!"

"Shhhhhh! Just relax!"

Your fingers roamed over his face. You pet its cute ears. His eyes were closing.

And then he got up with a start.

"I don't need sleep! Work! I have a lot of work to do!"

He ran down the hall. Not looking at you. You could have sworn he was embarrassed.

~⁠♡~

It was night. Quill had landed the ship on a populous planet. And right now, all the guardians, including you, were staying in some kind of luxury hotel.

Her body relaxed deliciously on the very soft bed.Groot climbed onto his bed. "Groot is just a baby!" That's what you always said. The little tree joined you every night. Then he would gently snuggle into the crook of your neck and sleep with you.

You've been waiting for him. When he came to sleep with you, you smiled. "Good night, Groot!" "I am groot!"

~♡~

It was already very dark outside when the door to her room opened. You struggled to open your left eye, when you did you saw Rocket standing beside your bed. He held hands. He looked nervous and very tired.

"You know… I just wanted to know if Groot was here with you…"

You gently patted beside you on the bed. "Come on, Rocky!"

He slowly crawled to her side on the bed.. It settled close to her waist, curling into a ball.

You ran your hand over his head.

And then he fell asleep. Holding your hand with both paws. As a newborn baby would with its mother.

He stretched, only to curl up next to her again.That night, you, Rocket and Groot slept peacefully.

Since then, Rocket has quietly crept into your room at night, and curled up next to you and Groot to sleep.

He never had trouble sleeping again.

#gotg2 #rocket raccoon x reader #gotg #rocket raccoon #peter quill #groot

[ssickabit]

I wanna know how'd skz react to s/o shorter than them, knowing chan he'd prolly just coo at you and admire you all the time(+ at least a hundred head pats a day),

Minho I feel would tease you, make fun of you (in a teasing way ofc) even laugh condescendingly when you can't reach for smthing on the higher shelf but from inside man practically MELTS seeing the sight of his love struggling to reach smthing and God he's sooooo in love he can't stop thinking ab it (he will prolly use his height to irritate you for no reason at all lmao)

Now changbin... there's no way this man doesn't have a size kink... he totally enjoys being taller/bigger person there and he will probably tell you that a lot, and just coo at you openly (maybe even more than chan) (he's wipped)

Hyunjin is a fvckin giant, like dude is tall, and there's no way he's gonna let you ever forget that, he'd probably be really playful when it comes to height, like purposefully putting things on higher places and stuff and watch you struggle (pretending he totally isn't watching and giggling like a child) until you call him for help. (He's so cute omg)

Jisung won't show it much and height doesn't really matters to him but boy LOVES helping you out whenever you need it, he loves to be helpful in any ways (my babie) I don't feel he'd be like jinnie, purposefully putting things out of your reach, and he might not admit it, like ever, but he enjoys watching you struggle and pout due to being unable to reach whatever it is.

Felix... I think this boi is just like chan (AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE) He ADORES your short height, absolutely loves it (ofc with so many head pats just like channie) what he loves the most ab your short height is how his clothes fits you, he loves how his hoodie literally looks like a dress on his baby (he's so soft I wanna squish him)

Seungmin would love to pick you up whenever he can, there doesn't even have to be any reason, he just wants to pick you up and just stare at your smiling/surprised face. I feel... he has bit of a size kink too. So well that's that. Just like jinnie, he'd put things on higher places and when asked for help ab it, he won't go and reach it, he'd pick you up so you can reach it. (Man totally uses his height as advantage in sexc times but that's a conversation for another time)

Jeongin, he'd enjoy the height difference, he'd be mix of chan and minho I feel, always admiring your cuteness and use the short height as an excuse to baby you but also teasing you at times, playfully pat your head whenever you are in reach and all

YOURE SUBMITTING THIS BY YOURSELF?? /pos BUT I LOVE IT LISTEN by this headcanon I’m gonna divide it into :

The “you’re my little one, so precious, I’m gonna worship you” gang : changbin, felix, han, hyunjin

The “awwww you’re so cute and fragile what if I just break your back” gang : bangchan (SURPRISING I KNOW), lee know, seungmin, jeongin

#stray kids smut #skz smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #lee know smut #jeongin smut #lee felix smut #han jisung smut #changbin smut #seungmin smut #hyunjin smut

[mellowsadistic]

Nina woke up, feeling dazed and confused, struggling to collect her memories. She and her boyfriend had just moved into their new house, she remembered. A new house in a new town, where she’d received an offer for a fantastic new job, intellectually stimulating and full of challenges. They’d had a glass of wine to celebrate when she’d suddenly started feeling very tired… Her boyfriend had carried her to bed, and then he’d shown her something – a video, but all she could remember of it were swirling lights and strange music.

Nina slipped unsteadily out of bed, realising only then that her underwear was feeling strange, not at all like the lingerie she’d put on that morning. She shrieked in shock when she saw the crinkly disposable nappy taped around her waist, but when she tried to rip it off, she found her arms too weak and malcoordinated to be of any use. Her hands patted impotently against the sides of the infantile garment, and her fingers seemed unable to grip properly. Panic welled up inside her, but before she had time to do anything else, she heard her boyfriend’s voice.

“Looks like my baby’s woken up! Did you have a nice nap, little one?” he cooed, in the patronising tone that adults usually reserved for the smallest of children.

“What’s going on?!” Nina tried to cry, but all that came out was a babble of incomprehensible baby-talk. A bit of drool leaked down her chin, and she felt herself blushing fiercely.

“Awww, are you trying to do talkies? Babies don’t need words, sweetheart. They just screech and cry until they get what they want,” he said, and Nina felt her blood run cold despite the gentleness of his tone. Had her boyfriend done this to her? Was this some sort of joke?

“Let me explain, sweetheart. The video I made you watch was actually a tape filled with subliminal messages. It’s tricked your mind into thinking you have the strength and coordination of a two-year-old, but you’ve still got control of your body for the most part. I wanted you like this so I could explain what’s going to happen. See, the final stage of the hypnosis will lock your adult mind away as a permanent passenger inside your own body, but that will only happen once you activate the trigger – making a nice big stinky in your pants for Daddy.”

Nina desperately wanted to believe that this was just some stupid prank, but as she felt her bladder helplessly dribble into her nappy, she realised that he was being deadly serious.

“Goo goo bah gah gah pfff!” she spluttered in an attempt to confront him, to ask him why he was doing this to her, to try desperately to talk him out of it.

He just chuckled and looked at her with an indulgent smile, like she was nothing more than a silly toddler amusing him with her childish antics.

“I know you wanted to have a career like so many silly women do these days, but I’m sure you’ll be much happier as my little girl. Moving town was the perfect fresh start. None of the people in this community ever have to know that you were anything other than an oversized infant, and I can tell your parents that I found you like this when I came home from work – the pressure of your new job got to you, and caused a mental breakdown that sent their high-flying daughter back to dirty diapers. I’ve already got lots of pretty little outfits to dress you up in; no more ugly, masculine suits. You’ll look absolutely adorable in your dresses and onesies, but most of the time you’ll be running around in nothing but your nappy!”

Nina started wailing in terror, tears forming in her eyes as she imagined a future trapped inside the body of an overgrown baby, her adult mind fully conscious yet forced to experience the humiliation of behaving like a stupid toddler. For an independent woman like her, she couldn’t think of a worse fate.

“Shhh… It’s okay, little baby… Daddy’s going to take such good care of you… I promise that you’ll get used to your new life,” her boyfriend soothed, pulling her into his arms for a cuddle and stroking her hair gently. “One day it will seem impossible that you ever fed yourself, or wore grown-up clothes, or went pee-pee and poo-poo anywhere except in your nappies. Speaking of which, any second now…”

There was a sudden fullness in her bottom, and Nina felt herself bend her knees and stick out her bum. Helpless to stop herself, she clenched her fists and strained to fill her Pampers, issuing soft grunts of effort and turning her face red with a mixture of exertion and humiliation. As Nina felt the mess begin to enter her nappy, she looked up at her boyfriend pleadingly, but he simply smiled.

“Is baby making her first poo-poo? You’re Daddy’s little stinker now, aren’t you darling? And once you finish filling your britches, that’s all you’ll ever be!”

Nina let out one final horrified scream before her babyish behaviours took over, and her shrieks turned to squeals of delight as Daddy removed her bra and led her out to play in the garden, bare boobs bouncing and dirty nappy sagging between her legs.

#mellowsadistic

[frozenjokes]

Signing Back In, Apparently - 16

Prev/Next

“Do you think Mumbo is okay?” Grian wrung his hands as he broke the silence, unable to keep the peace any longer. He hadn’t been too worried when Mumbo had left, not really. Mumbo-related anxiety spikes were a normal occurrence lately, but there was something about the look on his face from this morning that was really setting Grian off.

Impulse looked up from where he sat, eyes hazy as if he had been woken from a nap. Even still, Impulse was expressive as he thought through Grian’s question, despite the fact this wasn’t the first time Grian had asked it this week. It helped, knowing Impulse took the time to consider him. “You mean, like, in general? Well, no. He and Pearl have been on edge all week, I’m just hoping they can realize how much better it feels to spend time away.”

“Well, I meant a little more today. Like, right now. I don’t know, something was up this morning. I thought maybe when he left he was just taking a second to relax or..” Grian trailed off, fidgeting with his hands. “He’s not back yet.”

“How long has it been?”

“Maybe an hour? I’m not totally sure.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s too unusual. Maybe when he gets back we can check in, or you can talk to him alone if you think that’s better.” Impulse yawned, getting to his feet. Grian felt Impulse’s gaze over him, the other ghost straightening as his focus tightened, “Is Pearl around, or is she still gone as well? She was also looking troubled before she left. Do you think this is different than usual? I’ll be honest, I was a little out of it there,” Impulse gestured sheepishly to the place on the sand he had been sitting, watching the shore. The beach had been the finish line for their flight race earlier today, and it was out of the way of Scar’s usual routine, so they had settled down to relax after. Well, after Mumbo left that is. Impulse’s brow furrowed, clearly struggling to remember. “Maybe we all need to check in.”

Grian bit his lip, beginning to pace. “I don’t know. Honestly, I kind of want to look for him, well-“ he stuttered slightly, embarrassed, “-them, but I don’t want to overstep. Would that be a breach of privacy, do you think?”

Impulse suppressed a small smile, passing Grian a teasing look, “If you just stop by and ask how Mumbo’s doing, I don’t think there is anything wrong with that. The problem is finding him, but I can help you look. We can look for both of them.”

An alarmed yell cut through the air, followed by a deep crash that shook the earth. It sounded almost like an explosion, like the impact of cannon fire. Instincts Grian had thought long gone flared back to life, heightening his senses as he looked for the area of impact, as well as the cause. He found both to the southern tip of the island, terrifyingly close. From the debris of a now crumbling building rose a large silhouette, the clearing dust framing a massive bug-like monster. Its face was round and flat, with massive black eyes and soft looking antennae extending from its forehead. Its head was framed by an ethereal mane, from below six- maybe eight legs extended, not all of which looked like they should belong to the same being. Besides its barbed forearms, it looked a lot like a moth, almost friendly in nature. That is, until a second head hinged open from between the mane with earth shaking roar. The monster flared two sets of wings that surely couldn’t belong to the same type of bug, raising its jagged forearms to the sky.

“Impulse- Impulse! Look!” Grian screeched, only to see Impulse facing the wrong direction with his hands over his ears. With great ferocity, Grian turned him around, pointing vigorously.

“We- where did that come from?!” Impulse patted blindly at Grian as if to ask him to let go, but Grian was having trouble following that commnd as realization started to dawn. The edges of its form were unstable and bright and its color was chalkier, more opaque even, but it was the same as his own.

“Impulse! It’s- it’s a ghost . It’s- that’s-“ Grian gasped, not stopping to consider any more before shooting away, directly toward Mumbo. It had to be.

“A ghost? Ghosts can’t- Grian!” Grian was vaguely aware of Impulse behind him, but his focus was solely on the form ahead. Was Mumbo conscious? Would he recognize him? Grian remembered through spikes of fear lashing out before Pearl had grabbed him, but even in her arms, the world had been so fuzzy, so terrifying. Grian heard Impulse yelling behind him and someone else (a Kestrel, maybe?) screaming, but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t let this get any worse.

“Mumbo? Is- is this you?” Grian yelled, following the creature in its path. It climbed the rubble, revealing a long body that split and conjoined again as it moved, bright sparks flying through the cracks. Grian called again as he reached its more accessible face. Its eyes were huge and dark, almost kind. Almost sad. This was him, it had to be. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, yearning with every ounce of his being that Mumbo might hear him, “We’re going to get you out of this. We’re going to help you. You don’t have to be afraid.” Grian only realized he was too close when the second face reared up, jaw hanging open to reveal in vicious detail its multiple rows of jagged teeth. Decidedly, much less friendly. Grian barely dove out of the way in time before it snapped forward, only seeing its raised forearm out of the corner of his eye before it started to bore down.

Grian gasped as Impulse barreled into him, the mantis-like leg crashing down like a hammer in a near miss. It slammed into the pavement below, sending cracks splitting through the sidewalk.

Impulse held tight as Grian struggled, “Get it together! This is too dangerous, we have to get away from here and regroup.”

“We have to help him, Impulse!” Grian wailed, clawing at Impulse’s arms with hands that had no real form. He spotted Sausage as he writhed in Impulse’s grip, yelling orders to Kyle and Martyn. “He’s going to get hurt! Impulse, they’re going to hurt him!”

“Grian, I’m going to take us away. We’re going to figure this out, okay? We’ll find Mumbo and Pearl, and figure it out.”

It took Grian seconds too long to figure out what he meant. “You’re not going to- no- Impulse! Let me go! Let-“ But it was too late. The world went white, and they were suddenly somewhere new, somewhere way too far away. It was a restaurant; he and Impulse had appeared on the table, and Scar was sitting directly in front of them. Grian found himself still fighting as Impulse’s grip loosened, his rage producing an animal-like screech as he swiveled around, tackling the other ghost off the table.

“ What have you done? ” Grian’s arms shook, fastened to Impulse’s shirt as they rolled to the ground, “We just abandoned him!”

“Get a hold of yourself! You aren’t doing any good acting like this!” Impulse shoved him away, an anger Grian rarely ever saw coloring his face, “You don’t know that’s Mumbo! You did not look like that- we don’t even know if we’re dealing with the same thing. Sure, you didn’t look like yourself, but you still looked at least humanoid. That thing is the size of a house, and maybe you know better, but it seemed a lot less afraid and a lot more angry to me. I need you to take a few deep breaths before doing anything stupid, okay?”

Grian opened his mouth to protest, but both of them stopped dead when Scar began to speak, “Something must be in the air today, every one of these ghosts are so edgy! In my fantasy where Pearl actually told them to come around for their appreciation message, they just stood there nicely, they did not roll around on our table full of food hissing and spitting like cats. Honestly, I find it rude.” Scar didn’t even look at them, talking like they weren’t there.

“Uh huh,” Grian noticed Cleo for the first time, sitting across from Scar in the small booth and looking amused.

Impulse was up before Grian, leaning over the table, “You talked to Pearl? Where is she? Did you say everyone?”

Scar fixed him with a blank stare, an eyebrow ever so slightly raised above the other. Apparently unbothered, he returned to his rambling. “I mean, seriously, it’s hard to keep your appetite when you’ve got ghosts stomping all over your food,” he said, continuing to eat regardless, “No class, they have no class. Although, in hindsight, given that it was kind of hilarious to watch, I’ll grant them my forgiveness. After all, they almost made it a whole week without bothering me! I’m proud, Cleo, I am.”

“So gracious of you, Scar,” Cleo rolled her eyes with a smile, tone flat. Impulse frowned, hopping back on the table and sitting in the middle to obstruct Scar’s view. Scar didn’t move as Cleo continued, “So, you’re coming back to The Haunted Island with me tomorrow, right?”

“Where is Pearl? And Mumbo, for that matter. Did you talk to both of them?” Impulse leaned forward, trying to disrupt his focus.

“What did you do?” Grian joined in, aggressively pushing into Scar’s booth. He lost his balance, falling through Scar, but at the slight tense of Scar’s shoulders, continued phasing through him on purpose. Impulse put his hands through Scar’s face. Scar just closed his eyes, continuing as if they weren’t there.

“I am not , no. I’m not that crazy, I know what’s going to happen to me. You only want me there to distract Cub anyway, you threw me to the wolves last time! Yeah, I don’t need anyone ripping out my nails or my teeth, no thank you. ”

“Aw, but he said he’d give you new ones!”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Grian huffed, crossing his arms with a pointed glare in Impulse’s direction, “This is pointless. He basically confirmed he talked to Mumbo and Pearl, and Pearl might be out there alone trying to help without us!” Every moment they spent here was wasted on Scar. Even if given the choice, Scar would only go out of his way to hinder them.

Impulse balled his fists, clearly wanting to argue, but struggling with the words, “I just.. It feels like something bigger is going on. If we had just a little more insight-”

“Whoa,” Cleo’s voice cut through, eyes wide, “You’re bleeding, Scar. Oh shit, you’re kinda- that’s a lot!” Cleo stood up, but Scar only looked confused. Grian blinked rapidly as he saw bright blood begin to stain Scar’s shirt, quickly darkening the light fabric.

“I.. What the hell?” Scar’s brow furrowed, stumbling to his feet as he lifted his shirt, presumably trying not to get blood on the seat. There were two holes in his side, almost like shallow stab wounds, and both were leaking blood. A third appeared out of nowhere, and this time, Scar seemed to feel it, yelping in pain and surprise. “Wh- what’s happening to me? Did- is this you?” Scar turned his frightened gaze to Impulse and Grian. They exchanged looks, Impulse looking just as baffled as Grian felt.

Before either of them could answer, Scott barreled into the restaurant, face pale, “Cleo? Scar? Oh, thank fuck, do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you? Scar, why don’t you ever tell anyone where you’re going! They- the Kestrels- need you!” Scott startled, focusing on Scar for the first time, “Shit, are you okay?”

“I don’t know!” Scar was visibly losing his composure now, crying out as something cut across his legs. A deep horror fell over Grian as he remembered the pain that exploded through his own head as he screamed, as he hurt Scar while trying to escape him. The stabbing through his ears, his eyes, his nose- the blindness, the fear. His tinnitus, a condition a ghost shouldn’t be able to have. He found himself frozen. Stuck. But time didn’t stop around him.

“ What did you do?” Cleo hissed, running forward with concern Scar definitely didn’t deserve. She pressed napkins from the table against his side while Scar, as he always did, made helping infinitely more difficult by squirming.

“Well- I didn’t- okay- I didn’t mean to do anything, in fact, I would argue it wasn’t even my fault really, and I don’t want to be a snitch-” Scar’s eye flicked to Impulse and Grian, a look that was enough to bring Grian back to life. He lunged forward, Scar stumbling back to get away, continuing to backpedal at Cleo’s behest.

“What did you do!” Grian shrieked, his own form rippling. He felt Impulse’s hands on his own, squeezing tight with urgency. Grian didn’t hear his whispered words. He didn’t want to be calm.

Even though Scar couldn’t hear, he got the message loud and clear, “Mumbo asked why,” Scar gritted his teeth in an exaggerated gesture, clearly not wanting to elaborate in front of the other pirates. He didn’t need to. “I’m not going to give any details, but let’s just say he forced my hand, right?” Scar held up one of his arms, his wrist and hand wrapped in a tight bandage. “I told him. He didn’t take it well. Surprise, surprise. But Pearl had it handled! She- well I didn’t stick around, obviously."

“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt whatever ghost shenanigans are happening, but there’s a literal monster laying waste to the Kestrel Island, and it’s making its way to the main isle, so I’m going to need you , Scar, to go and help fight it, or at the very least, if it’s your doing, deal with it. ”

Scar looked momentarily like a trapped animal as he looked between Grian and Scott, but after a moment of flustered stuttering, he seemed to remember Grian didn’t have much power here and walked directly through him to get away. “Okay, okay, I’m going, but I’d like everyone here to know this was not completely my fault this time. I didn’t provoke him at all! I think. Well, maybe I could have been a bit gentler. No, no, I was gentle. It was like, tender. You wouldn’t understand. Wait, did you say he was laying waste to the island, seriously? He can like, touch stuff?”

“I- yes, Scar, it’s an emergency, so-”

“You’re not exaggerating, are you? Seriously, Mumbo’s tall, but he’s a total sap, surely he hasn’t done that much damage.”

“ It’s leveling buildings, Scar!”

Scar stared blankly, only reacting when another phantom injury appeared, this time near his chest. Mumbo. They were hurting Mumbo. Shocked out of his own anger he began to pull away, stumbling when Impulse didn’t release his hand.

“ Impulse ,” Grian had no more anger left to give, only desperation. Fear. “Please. Please let me go. They’re hurting him, Impulse.”

“Grian, you’re not going to be any help if you work yourself up into the same state. I need you to listen to me for a second. I need you to calm down.” Impulse squeezed his hand. Grian thought he might scream, or cry, or maybe both.

“We don’t have time. Don’t you see? Whatever they’re doing to Mumbo, it’s reflecting on Scar.”

“What? Did- did that happen to you? Are you sure?”

“ Yes. And the damage is permanent, at least whatever happened to my ears- I don’t know! It’s something about the connection; it gets so strong, you even share pain? Who cares how it works! Impulse, if they can hurt Mumbo, they might be able to kill him.”

Impulse stared, taking a painfully long time to let that information sink in. Grian didn’t resist, willing him to understand. Willing him to let go and help. Impulse’s brow furrowed and he spoke slowly, “Scar’s cuts- even the holes- they aren’t serious. Clearly, Mumbo must be doing pretty well for himself, even against possible gunshots. I don’t think it’s him we should be worried about if this connection goes both ways.” Impulse’s voice lifted as he finished, eyes widening. If Grian had a beating heart, it would have stopped in his chest.

“Scar.”

#hermitcraft #pirates smp #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #mumbo jumbo #boatem #boatemghostsau #zombiecleo #my special little moth #:)

[eroticandawkward]

Jake with a G II Jake Lockely x GN!Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: description of a panic attack, blood mention, drug use (marijuana), google translate Spanish

Based off of this prompt from @johnny-simpfinger

A/N: I wrote a lot of this when I was struggling emotionally too so it’s a little self-indulgent and a little not good but I hope it’s still an enjoyable read.

It had been a bad night. Not because of any one thing in particular, but just little things that built and built until you could feel yourself coming undone at the seams. You didn’t even know how long you had been sitting at the kitchen table, just staring into space while your mind waged war against itself. It must have been a while though, because when Marc came and placed a hand on your shoulder your neck felt like solid stone trying to turn and look at him.

“You okay?” His voice sounds very far away. You open your mouth to answer him, but your throat feels so so tight. You settle for a nod you hope is convincing.

It’s not convincing. Marc moves down into a crouch beside your chair and cups your cheek. His eyebrows are drawn together. You notice, faintly, that there is a bit of blood by his hairline and it strikes you all of a sudden that he’s probably had a bad night too, probably got hurt serving that musty dusty ol’ bird, but here he is worried about you instead. Caring for you.

He joins his other hand with yours and that’s what does it. You start sobbing.

“Oh fuck,” you hear Marc say quietly. 

You can’t see very well through your tears but you can feel him start to pull him into his arms.

“No!” you shout, pushing at his chest. You don’t want to be comforted, don’t deserve to be comforted. Marc pulls back with a startled expression and that just makes you feel worse.

“I’m sorry,” you say tearily. You get out of your chair, rocking a bit on your heels and scratching hard at your shoulder. The tears won’t stop coming, dammit. “I’m sorry I’m sorryssorrysosorryI’msorry-” 

“Baby it’s alright, just let me-” Marc stands and moves towards you. You shake your head vehemently.

“No you can’t be nice to me, stop-” You gulp in air that doesn’t come, pushing yourself against the kitchen wall. “Stop being nice to me, I don’t deserve it, I’m a bad person please just leave me alone-” You press your hands over your face, overwhelmed and unable to stop crying. 

It’s quiet for a minute or two, and you think Marc must have left. And you’re right, in a way. Because it’s not Marc who takes your hands from your face.

“Breathe,” he tells you, and his voice is a little lower, a little rougher. 

When your breathing doesn’t change he takes one of your hands and places it on his chest. “Breathe,” he says again, taking a deep breath to demonstrate. 

You try to focus on the rise and fall of his chest. Your shuddery inhales gradually smooth out, the wild thump of your heart slowing to match the beat you can feel under your hand. 

“Thanks Marc,” you mumble eventually. You feel a little embarrassed now. 

“Not Marc,” he says as you’re wiping away your tears. “Jake.”

“Thanks Jake,” you amend. You pull your sleeves up to your palms and hug them against your chest. “M’ sorry…”

“No hay nada por lo que disculparse,” he soothes. He pats your shoulder, the gesture a little awkward but welcome nonetheless. “Don’t worry about it. Feeling better?” 

“A bit, yeah.”

Suddenly, you just feel so tired. You move away from the wall and go to sit on the couch. “Is Marc okay? I didn’t- I didn’t mean to make you guys switch or anything.” Tucking your legs up, you watch as Jake cleans the blood off his face before pulling something from the cabinets. 

“Cariño, please. Relax.” He comes over to you and sits down with a huff. “It happened and now you move forward, sí?”

You smile to yourself. Steven would’ve wanted to talk about it, Marc would have probably hovered around you until he was sure you felt better, but Jake? Jake was almost painfully pragmatic at times. 

You hear the flick of a lighter and turn your head in time to see Jake passing you a joint.

“Really?” You raise your eyebrow, taking the joint from him. “You wanna get high? Now?” 

“You think there’s a better time to get high?” He matches your raised eyebrow with his own. 

“Touché.” 

Whatever strand the joint was, shit was strong. You find yourself with your head in Jake’s lap, trying to catch your breath in-between giggling fits. 

“You’re man-spreading,” you tell him as he plays with your hair. 

“Huh?” He takes a puff of the joint and passes it to you. 

You gesture at his legs spread out and his arm draped across the back of the couch. “Man-spreading,” you say emphatically. “H-hombre…hombre amplio? Hombre-”

Jake puts a finger to your lips and shakes his head. “I take back saying you should learn Spanish,” he says in fond exasperation. “It’s- ey!”

He pulls back his finger when you snap your teeth at it. You burst into giggles again and take a drag. 

“You tryin’ to eat me now, mi corazón?” He goes back to fiddling with your hair. His eyes are half-lidded and you’ve never seen him so relaxed despite you seconds ago attempting to bite him.

“S’ the munchies,” you say with the most serious nod you can muster. “The Jake munchies- hey you know I actually have. A big problem with you mister.” You poke at his thigh, his very lovely, meaty thigh…

Jake’s face comes into view. His head is tilted slightly, like he’s waiting. Right! Speaking. You’d been doing that.

You poke his thigh again. “Do you know there’s no nickname for Jake?” you accuse.

He squints uncomprehendingly. “And that is…a bad thing?” 

“Yes!” you say, bolting upright and startling him slightly. “How am I supposed to have a cute nickname for you when your name is un-nicknamable?” 

Jake gets it. You can tell because he has on his Serious Thinking Face, the one where his brows pinch together and he purses his lips. But then he takes the joint from you and says, “I think you should not have any more of this,” and you flop back down on him in defeat.

You must doze off at some point, because the next time you open your eyes there’s a movie playing. You squint at the tv. It takes you a second to piece together Anne Hathaway and Julie Andrew’s faces, the set of The Princess Diaries coming into focus in front of you. Then the strangest thing happens. Princess Mia flounces across the screen and Jake laughs. 

You turn to look back at him in surprise. Immediately, he schools his face back to neutral and clears his throat. “Nothing much on tv,” he says, gesturing. “Thought a movie would be good background noise.” 

Oh, but it is so tempting to call him out on that. Jake Lockely likes The Princess Diaries, Jake Lockely had laughed watching a chick flick. Somewhere in your weed-addled brain, you decide not to tease him about it. You want to hear him laugh again. 

“I’ve decided on your name,” you say instead, sitting up so you can cuddle against him. 

“Oh this should be good.” He rolls his eyes as he wraps his arm around you.

“Mm, it is.” You ignore his sarcasm and the bemused expression he’s giving you. “So Steven spells his name with a V right? And Marc spells his with a C.” 

Jake eyes you suspiciously. “Yeah…”

Grinning, you squeeze his pec playfully. “That makes you Jake with a G.” 

The tickle fight that ensues is worth it just to hear Jake laugh again.

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #moon knight fanfiction #mine

[dixie12]

happy kinktober!

day 1- somnophilia

Rookie year was turning into a mix of challenges that Jonny had expected (getting used to game play that was significantly faster than anything he’d ever experienced, endless airplane rides, learning to share space with Pat without murdering him) and those that he hadn’t (being too exhausted to even jerk off most of the time, let alone try to pick anyone up when they went out to bars or clubs).

It wouldn’t have been that big a deal, except Jonny found himself getting antsy and cranky the longer his dry spell went on. He was 19 years old for fucks sake, and about to be a millionaire. He should be getting laid whenever he wanted, not literally falling asleep jerking it, like he had the night before. It was humiliating, especially when he listened to Pat run his mouth about his latest blonde after practice. He was sure Pat was lying- just look at the kid, no way he was going home with the girls he claimed he was, but still. 

He trudged home, glad they had a few days off coming up, and pulled a bottle of beer out of the fridge. He was sitting on the couch, well into his third beer and feeling the pleasant pull of the alcohol when Seabs walked in.

“You gonna tell me what’s got you day-drinking?” Seabs asked, gesturing at the empties on the coffee table in addition to the full bottle in his hand. Jonny hesitated, but found himself spilling to Seabs, unable to stop the words once he started. It felt good to get it out, and Seabs wasn’t even laughing at him. He was nodding, actually, like he knew what Jonny was talking about. There was no way, though. Seabs was tall, and built, and rocked the scruffy beard look. No way did he ever struggle getting girls.

“Thanks, man,” Seabs said, laughing, and Jonny flushed as he realized he’d said that out loud. Not only could he not get laid, apparently he couldn’t handle his beer anymore, either.

Seabs ignored his obvious embarrassment, though, and just kept talking.

“I remember rookie year, Jonny,” he said. “I think I actually fell asleep eating a few times, so believe me, I’ve been there.”

“Whatever,” Jonny muttered, knowing it made him sound like a petulant teenageer, but whatever, he was a teenager; he could be petulant sometimes if he wanted.

“Whatever,” Seabs mimicked, voice mocking, “don’t you want to know how I dealt with it?”

Jonny stared at him until he continued.

“Look, sometimes Duncs and I crashed in the same bed, and we had an.. understanding.”

“Understanding?” Jonny repeated uncertainly.

“Yea. Whatever happened, awake or not, stayed in bed. Saved us both a lot of trouble.” Seabs looked distressingly calm about what sounded like casually buddyfucking his teammate and main defensive partner. On the other hand, having a no-strings attached arrangement like that would be an easy fix to his.. frustrating problem. An easy enough fix that he’s starting to get hard just thinking about it, something that Seabs has clearly noticed. 

“Wanna give it a shot?” he asked, eyes flicking deliberately down at Jonny’s sweats, where his hard-on was obvious now. 

“.. Fine,” Jonny said, not bothering to hide how much the idea was affecting him. It was about time for their nap anyway, and if they happened to nap in the same bed, well, so be it. He was drunk, tired and horny enough to try anything at this point.

Seabs grabbed his hand, pulling him upright and giving a gentle push towards his bedroom. “Get comfy,” he said, “and I’ll meet you in there.”

Jonny walked into Seabs’ room, eyeing his bed. It looked cozy, and he pulled off his t-shirt and climbed in, wriggling into the sheets. He was still hard, but Seabs’ pillows were somehow softer than his, and he closed his eyes for just a second, waiting.

“You look good in my bed,” Seabs said, startling Jonny awake from the half-doze he’d settled into.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” he mumbled, and Seabs chuckled quietly. “I’m sure you weren’t, princess. You can, though. I’ll take care of you.”

Jonny meant to protest, but the words didn’t even make it out of his mouth before he was asleep for real. 

There was someone pressed up behind him, Jonny thought fuzzily. Maybe he was dreaming. He’d woken up hard more than a few times lately, feeling like a teenager just discovering what his dick was for. 

His dreams didn’t usually feel like this, though, encompassed by a warm, solid body. He kept his eyes closed, drifting in the soft space between sleep and waking as he felt the person shift behind him. He could feel a cock sliding along the cleft of his ass, and even though he’d never really been with a guy, it felt good. He groaned, rocking his hips back and chasing the feeling.

“That’s good, Jonny,” he heard, and fuck, that was Seabs. He tensed up, but Seabs tightened an arm around his waist. “Easy, sweetheart,” Seabs whispered, breath tickling his ear, hand sweeping lightly over his abs, keeping him floating in that lovely relaxed place. Seabs didn’t do anything else, just stayed snugged up against his ass until Jonny fully relaxed, almost drifting off again.

The next thing he was aware of was a hand stroking him gently, Seabs lightly jerking him off through his thin sweats. He whined, trying to thrust his hips with the rhythm, but he was still mostly asleep, uncoordinated with it.

“Let me take care of you, baby,” Seabs whispered, and Jonny surrendered again to the pull of sleep. 

Jonny was unsure how long it went on for, Seabs whispering to him, making him feel good. The slide back into sleep was so natural that he didn’t feel it happening, and he kept waking up gasping, getting closer and closer to orgasm every time. He wasn’t doing anything to help, just moaning as his cock leaked through his sweats, making a mess of himself. Seabs didn’t seem to care though, and he could feel his cock, hot and thick where it was nestled behind him. It turned him on more, knowing that Seabs was getting off on it, too, and he could hear himself getting louder, uninhibited as he chased his orgasm. Seabs trailed a hand up his neck, running his fingers around Jonny’s mouth before slipping them inside, and Jonny sucked on instinct, overcome with Seabs all around him. His orgasm hit him hard, and he shook with it, held safe in Seabs’ arms.

He fell asleep for real, then, sleeping harder than he had in months. When he woke up, Seabs hadn’t moved at all, arm still around his waist, breath ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck. He stretched, feeling his muscles stretch; content in his body in a way he’d almost forgotten he could be. Seems like Seabs had the right idea with this arrangement after all.

#kinktober 2022 #consensual somnophilia #o captain my captain #rookie!jonny/seabs #jonny needs to be taken care of #seabs volunteers as tribute #hoping kinktober motivates me to finish and post some short things

[irvin-mybeloved]

Hey could you do a scenario where Theo and Siluca can't find a baby sitter for their twin boys and decide to ask Aubestes?

Sure!😁

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

Babysitting: Grandfather Edition

Unable to find a babysitter, Theo and Siluca know that grandpa is the next best option.

Normally, finding a babysitter would be easy. I mean, they practically had a live-in babysitter when it came to Irvin. And he was really good at watching the twins and keeping them safe as well as under control. 

However, Irvin had a date with a young woman who would like to remain anonymous, so Siluca had to (reluctantly) let him go.

Now, they had to find a new babysitter.

Emma and Luna were another option but having twin girls watch toddler twin boys would most likely end in an incident. Aishela did it once, and Siluca decided never again. Marrine and Alexis were way too busy to watch the kids. Juzel was out on busy, Lassic was Lassic, and Moreno said he needed just one day to relax.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this!” Siluca exclaimed just when she and Theo seemed out of options. He gave her a confused look, and she just flashed him a smile.

“Father.” She told him, and upon hearing that, Theo let out a sigh of relief. Then, the babies started to cry, causing both parents to quickly jump into action.

Luckily, Aubestes was always happy to watch his grandchildren. He was the one who lectured Theo to get on it and have some grandbabies already, so he was more than pleased when they asked him to babysit.

“Thank you so much, father.”  Siluca said once he arrived to their home on Sistina. She gave him a hug, which Aubestes returned in full.

“I’m always happy to watch these little rascals.” He said affectionately while ruffling Villar’s blonde hair. The two-year old’s light brown eyes peered up at his grandfather as he was in his arms. His brother, Carlo, was still nestled in the arms of his mother, who was stroking his green hair. However, his violet eyes opened when he felt himself being placed down.

“Be good now.” Theo told his sons. Villar was placed beside his brother on the carpet, and gave his parents a cute grin.

“Okay daddy!” Villar said in excitement, but poor Carlo only replied half-heartedly. While he loved his grandfather, he was really a momma’s boy, and didn’t like it when his parents left.

However, he would have to deal with it for a few hours.

After Theo and Siluca left, giving plenty of hugs and kisses to their children, Aubestes was left with them alone. He figured that the two toddlers couldn’t give him much trouble, but just like all the other times, he was proven wrong.

The older man doesn’t know how they do it.

Poor Carlo started crying no too long after Siluca and Theo left. He was constantly asking for “mama”, and Aubestes had him in his arms all the time trying to comfort him.

Meanwhile, Villar (who absolutely adores his grandfather) kept trying to have Aubeste’s attention on him instead of his brother. Villar was definitely more mischievous than his brother and had a habit of getting into trouble. The older man was having trouble juggling his attention between the two. Normally, Theo and Siluca were there as well, making visits a lot easier.

However, now he was by himself.

Around a rough hour or two passed, Aubestes couldn’t keep track, and the twins were starting to give him signs that it was time for dinner. The older man never had to do this by himself before, so he struggled for a bit. However, this allowed the twin boys to have a bit more playtime as he left them on the carpet with all their toys. 

“Alright Carlo, here you go.” Aubestes gave a bowl of food to this grandson first as he was the one sitting patiently on the carpet, his tears having dried. The little boy seemed to brighten up at the sight of food, and happily began to eat. 

“I need to get your brother now.” He said while patting the boy on the head as he munched on an apple. However, when Aubestes went to look for Villar, he couldn’t find him. The older man didn’t panic yet, thinking he hasn’t checked everywhere yet.

However, panic started to rise the further he looked.

“Villar! Villar!” Aubestes called in a worry tone as he looked behind every piece of furniture in every room. He knew he should keep an eye on Carlo, but this matter was much more pressing. He didn’t know how he would face his daughter if he told her he lost her son.

“Papa!” Carlo’s voice came from the kitchen and Aubestes, recognizing that the kids call him that, rushed back into the room. When he got there, everything looked fine, so he didn’t understand what the fuss was about. 

“Papa.” Carlo said again before pointing towards a cupboard. Walking towards it, Aubestes caught the sound of giggling. And when he opened it, low and behold...

...there was Villar.

“You found me!” The bolder twin said cheerfully while lifting his arms, the universal toddler sign for “up”. Aubestes took him into his arms for a hug, his heart calming from the panic of thinking he was lost. 

“Please don’t do that again.” The grandfather said softly with a smile, relieved he was safe. Villar merely giggled after promising to do so, and was then presented with his own dinner.

While the kids are stressful to watch and take care of, Aubestes loves his grandchildren with all his heart and knows they feel the same way. They are good kids, and he could never be mad at them for any reason. And truthfully, while there are points where it’s nerve-racking, Aubestes is a good and reliable babysitter.

Theo and Siluca know this when they come home to find their sons on either side of Aubestes as he reads them a bedtime story.

#grancrest senki #record of the grancrest war #record of the grancrest war imagine #siluca #theo x siluca #siluca meletes #siluca imagine #theo #theo cornaro #theo imagine #aubestes

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

Millicent’s Trick

Warning: Drugged; bound; threat of experimentation. // Synopsis: Millicent wakes up and soon learns that she’s going to be an experimental patient.

Millicent came to slowly. A low groan built in her throat and she tried to move a hand to wipe her face, but found herself unable to. Confusion pinched her brow, and experimentally she tried her other hand. She met with the same sense of resistance; a resistance that her sleepy brain slowly assured her wasn’t normal.

Panic wormed its way into her thoughts, and she opened her eyes quickly. The room around her was white, starkly so and not familiar to her at all. The smell of disinfectant lingered in the air, and the dull din of people moving around her set her teeth on edge.

‘Ah, patient one is awake,’ a firm voice said, causing Millie to look to her right. She tried to sit up, and this time realised the thing stopping her movement was more than just at her wrists. Determined not to look away from the looming figure now striding across the room towards her, she tried not to allow herself too much panic. Panic wouldn’t help her right now. It wouldn’t help remove the cuffs she realised had to be stopping her movements, or the strap laying over her stomach. Panic would only cloud her thoughts, make it impossible to even begin thinking of actual escape. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Where am I?’ Millicent growled, listening out for signs of her sisters. As long as they weren’t there, as long as they were as far away from here as possible, she might just be OK. But her voice sounded slurred even to her own ears, and she knew it wasn’t from just waking up. ‘What did you do to me?’

‘Just a little sedative,’ the woman said, walking closer so her shoes clipped neatly against the floor. ‘You were determined to fight off my nurses.’

‘Let me go,’ Millie spat, pulling at her wrists once more. This time, she dared a proper glance. Leather cuffs held her in place, small chains keeping her attached to the bed. Her ankles, she guessed from the lack of movement, were the same.

‘I can’t do that yet,’ the woman said, voice a soft caress but all the more terrifying for it. Millie looked up at her sharply, saw the knife-like smile on her face, the madness that seemed to shine behind her eyes. ‘No, no, we haven’t even started yet.’

‘Started what?’ Millicent found herself able to ask.

‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ Jack had once told her.

The woman gently patted Millie’s cheek. Millicent pulled away quickly, felt the cold metal on her other cheek and the panic rising in her chest.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll have a lot of time to talk while we work,’ the woman assured her, before turning her back on Millie and walking away again. Millie struggled against her bindings once more, determined to get out of there before anything truly terrible could happen. She wasn’t anyone’s Guinea pig, and she wasn’t about to start being one now.

#Repost #Made By Me #Drabble #Spy Story #Millicent #Millie

[beastie-anon]

All of the empji thing asks for Mark, Ceasar, Chriz and Sonikchu?

I'm adding the two new boys too bc fuck you that's why (/lh/nm)

Also its under the cut it's looong

----

👁: What is a secret your muse is hiding/hasn't told

Mark: He doesn't really have any hidden secrets except for his past. He hasn't told anyone, But his father killed him.

Chriz: Chriz grew up with... Horrible things happening to him

Ceasar: He thinks every day about the baby he could've had

Sonikchu: It doesn't like Cereal

Oswald: [redacted]

Gilbert: He saw everything.

----

💬: Muse says direct confession

Mark: I.. Miss Ceasar. A lot..

Chriz: I never met my parents..

Ceasar: I know I shouldn't have said what I did to Cesar.. But I just.. Don't. Care.

Sonikchu: I ate all the chocolate.. hehehe

Oswald: I wish I could've killed all of them myself.

Gilbert: [redacted]

----

⚪️: Small things that mean a lot

Mark: A kiss on his forehead

Chriz: Hand holding

Ceasar: A small smile

Sonikchu: Head pats

Oswald: Telling Oswald that your proud of him will literally make him break down into sobs

Gilbert: Hugs

----

🔴: Big gestures that mean a lot

Mark: Mark feels like when you defend him it means a lot

Chriz: Giving him something that means a lot to you

Ceasar: Giving up something that meant a lot to you (not an object but family, Social life, Your literal life ect ect)

Sonikchu: Taking a hit for it

Oswald: Watching his back

Gilbert: [redacted]

----

👌: Quirks

Mark: Mark licks his teeth a lot and gets embarrassed when someone points it out

Chriz: He makes shows with his fire when bored

Ceasar: His tail thumps on the ground when he's focused

Sonikchu: Sonikchu fidgets with its paws a lot

Oswald: Oswald can't hold still and can't really stay in one place long

Gilbert: He doesn't like to move much

----

💦: Manerisms when shy/nervous

Mark: He hovers slightly above the ground and looks down

Chriz: He tends to stay quiet

Ceasar: She hovers around people but doesn't say much and won't ask for things

Sonikchu: 🚫

Oswald: He will simply try to leave

Gilbert: He will hold onto whoever he knows and won't leave them

----

💢: Manerisms when angy/sad

Mark: Mark will refuse to look at anyone and his nose will twitch

Chriz: He'll just leave and stay locked in his room

Ceasar: She'll go to the person they love for comfort

Sonikchu: It just cries

Oswald: Oswald will hide it and pretend he's okay if sad, If mad Oswald will let it be known

Gilbert: He just pretends he's okay

----

🙌: Manerisms when extremely happy

Mark: He gets twitchy and bashful

Chriz: His flames get brighter

Ceasar: He smiles and tries to calm himself

Sonikchu: Sonikchu will stim a lot by having its knees pressed to its chest and arms close to its chest, Squeezing itself in excitement

Oswald: He will have a small smile. That is it thats all you get from him

Gilbert: Gilbert jumps in excitement and squeals a bit

----

🤞: What impulsive thing would they do

Mark: Jump off a mountain for thrills and forget how to fuckimg fly

Chriz: [redacted]

Ceasar: Eat his fucking tail

Sonikchu: Eat everything

Oswald: [redacted]

Gilbert: [redacted]

----

☠️: Do they fear death

Mark: Mark welcomes it

Chriz: Not anymore.

Ceasar: No

Sonikchu: No

Oswald: Yes

Gilbert: Yes

----

👻: Recall one (or more) time(s) they have been the most scared/fearful

Mark:

"...Dad? Hey what are you doing I-I'm in the bath you shouldn't be in here!"

"..."

His father had a toaster in his hands, Plugging it into the wall and looking down at Mark. Mark's eyes widened and he struggled as he tried standing up. He wasn't fast enough as his dad threw it into the bath. Mark felt his heart beating faster as he electrocuted and almost fried completely. He was having a heart attack as he tried to grasp onto anything, In intense pain and unable to see anything but red and black.

"D..da....d.... P......le.a......se......h........e.......lp....."

He felt two hands wrap around his neck, Slowly tightening until he couldn't breathe. He could feel himself being moved under the water. No.. Nono- Please!- He tried to beg but as he opened his mouth water flooded in, Reaching his lungs. He tried to thrash out of the grip but.. Most of him was immobile. His nerves, Veins, Muscles... Fried. Destroyed. He had no choice but to...

Let go

Mark Heathcliff found dead in his home. It has been put to rest as a suicide.

Chriz:

He was cuddling with his parents, In between them in pajamas. He couldn't of been more than 3 or 4. He was woken up from the sunlight and got excited, Sneaking away from them and falling off the bed with a light thump. He snuck away from the room and crawled down the stairs quickly- He wanted to play outside with the bugs and animals he could find! The door was locked so he squeezed through the doggy door. He stood himself up, Wobbling as he looked for any worms that came up to breathe. Of course, He didn't know that worms came up after rain to breathe, He just knew that the water outside meant worms were somewhere! Looking around, He finally found one. He liked to tear them into little pieces to make many many worms! His papa showed him before! Being a toddler, He didn't notice a van slowly creeping up to him.. The men came out and he was alerted by the large shadow over him. He sat down and looked up, His mouth open a bit with surprise. The men grabbed him and he shrieked, Starting to cry. He didn't like being picked up. He started to sob real loud and scream as they put him in the van and drew off.. He didn't know who they were. He never saw them before.

He would.. Never see his parents again

AMBER ALERT: Be on the lookout for a [redacted] car and 4 [redacted] men. The child has orange hair, Freckles, White eyes and was last in dinosaur pajamas.

Ceasar:

..That couldn't.. Of been right. It.. Wasn't him was it? He didn't kill them. He didn't.. HE DIDNT FUCKING KILL THEM- It wasn't him- He didn't..

The truth repeated in his head over and over. He couldn't feel himself in control anymore, At all. He couldn't see a thing.. Then he was back. Back when he was a teenager. He wanted the humans to pay.. They were his food, Not his friends. He fucking hated humans.. But... He didn't know. He didn't know his family was inside.. Why were they in there? They should have left by then.. The screams, The... Bloodshed. He went inside with a smirk, An evil smile. He wanted to see their suffering, Maybe even eat some of the roasted flesh... But when he walked info the door...

"...S...Sarah?"

His sister. No.. Her tail was blown off of her body, Her organs spilling out. He dropped the detonator, He felt sick.. He couldn't breathe, Tears already spilling out as his throat knotted up. Her intestines were being dragged as her eyes searched for him and their parents.. She couldn't see them, But he could. They were right behind her, All over the wall..

"C....eas...aw...? Hel....p.... whe...wes.....mommy an....d....dad...dy...?"

He broke into sobs and fell to his knees, Holding what remained of his barely breathing sister.. He hadn't even started school yet... This couldn't be fucking happening...

"Was...dis....you..?... w...why.... why would...you huwt me....big bwo....?"

"No- No I'm sorry I didnt- I didn't know! I didn't.. fucking know.. I'm so sorry.."

Her breathing was slow, And.. Getting slower. He could hear her fucking heartbeats slowing down..

"No- Please I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'll fix it dont die- P-Please!"

"..d...do you... weawwy hate me.... so much dat.... you had to..."

She couldn't finish her sentence, Her eyes closing.

Bu-dump....

.....

...

..

Bu-dump...

....

...

..

.

Silence.

And that silence... Is all he could ever hear again.

...Only 3 fatalities found. 32 hospitalized and on their way to a full recovery

Sonikchu:

He felt his dad's arm around him, Reading him a fairy tale quietly as he started to drift off to sleep. He jolted awake when he heard a women open the door, Beginning to speak in a booming loud voice.

"Mr [redacted], The chamber is ready."

Sonikchus father stood and put the book to the side.

"Well squirt,, I'll see you after work.."

He frowned, Knowing that wouldn't be for a few hours. He couldn't sleep without his dad there...

"..Unless"

He perked up, Already excited and happy that there was another option.

"You'd want to come with me? You can even help with this exciting experiment!"

"O-Okay papa!!"

Sonikchu was more of a proper, Quiet child. He was only 6 years old afterall. His father picked him up and began to walk. He had never seen outside of the room before.. The walls, Tiles, Ceiling, Lights.. All white. It was hard on him since he had been in a dark room his whole life. When his eyes adjusted enough he could finally see the things he never could. Cells lined up on the walls, And from the sounds, People were inside. Everyone looked.. Weird. They had things wrong with them.. Sonikchu cowered a little, Shivering in fear and from the freezing temperatures in the halls. In his room he always felt safe, But out here had a different.. Feeling. He was kind of scared.. His father gently patted his back, Waiting for the woman to open a door with some kind of pass code and card. It opened with a loud noise that made Sonikchu hold onto his father tighter, Shaking slightly. Inside the room, There were a few teenagers. Some were barely breathing, Equipment hooked to them. Some were disformed, And some looked mostly fine despite scars and stitches along their bodies. All of them standing tall in a single file lineup. This just scared him more.. Who were they? He was lead closer to a box looking room.. He looked up at his dad, Who was nudging him closer. He went inside just to see that it was.. Huge. What he didn't know was his father and a scientist were going inside too, With a few tools..

He felt someone grab his wrists and push him onto the ground. He felt the stabbing horrible pain as they started to use a dull knife to carve open his back.. He screamed in agony, Begging them to stop. He wore out his voice to where even when he screamed, Nothing came out. Tears stained his fluffy cheeks..

Years went by inside the box, While only a couple days passed outside of it.

Oswald: [Redacted]

Gilbert: [Redacted)

----

😠: Something they hated/hates

Mark: Ceasar

Chriz: Scientists

Ceasar: Being alone

Sonikchu: Knives of any type

Oswald: Company, Demons, Alternates

Gilbert: Ghosts

----

🏹: Would your muse kill/why would they kill

Mark: The only way he'd kill is if he or his friends were in danger

Chriz: [redacted]

Ceasar: They'd kill if 8 or anyone else he relies on to stay 'sane' told him to.

Sonikchu: They'd die before they killed anyone or caused anyone to die

Oswald: In a heartbeat if he was suspicious at all

Gilbert: If he had to to protect himself or his friends

----

💢: What would make them annoyed

Mark: Taking advantage of his no free will

Chriz: A wrench being thrown into his plans

Ceasar: Being without the person who tells him what to do

Sonikchu: No ice cream for dessert

Oswald: Basically everything

Gilbert: Basically everything

----

👍: Good traits

Mark: Good hearted

Chriz: Incredibly caring for his family

Ceasar: Obedient

Sonikchu: Wouldn't even harm a fly

Oswald: Incredibly caring for people close to him

Gilbert: Incredible memory

----

Introspection

----

👀: How jealous are they?

Mark: Not very

Chriz: Incredibly. Possessive, Too

Ceasar: Incredibly

Sonikchu: Very

Oswald: Most jealous and possessive person to exist

Gilbert: Somewhat

----

🖤: How selfish/Selfless are they?

Mark: Incredibly Selfless

Chriz: Pretty Selfish

Ceasar: Mid

Sonikchu: Selfless

Oswald: Selfish

Gilbert: Mid

----

❓️: How indisicive are they?

0=Decisive

10=Indecisive

Mark: 2/10

Chriz: 1/10

Ceasar: 9/10

Sonikchu: 7/10

Oswald: 2/10

Gilbert: 5/10

----

🙈: Can they be blindly loyal?

Mark: Yes

Chriz: No

Ceasar: Yes

Sonikchu: Yes

Oswald: No

Gilbert: Yes

----

❌️: What would make them be petty/say smth hurtful

Mark: If your brought him to his breaking point

Chriz: Hurting people he cares about

Ceasar: Either if you said something to him or the person he relies on

Sonikchu: By hurting or saying something to or about his friends

Oswald: Existing

Gilbert: If you killed everyone he has left, But by then it'd be too late for you anyways.

----

🙊: Has your muse ever stopped themself from saying something? What was it?

Mark: "You know what Ceasar? You haven't fucking changed. Your still the same kid who killed your parents and sister in cold blood. Your a pathetic piece of shit and you don't deserve love.. You don't deserve anything. I feel sorry for you."

Chriz: "I'm so tired of you. I'm tired of taking care of you. I'm tired of having to take care of your messes when every day when I have to go back to that fucking lab and SUFFER! FUCK YOU [redacted]! I HOPE YOU SUFFER THE SAME FUCKING FATE.."

Ceasar: "It really hurts.. I don't think I can do this anymore. I can't.. Be with you if you don't love me. I can't be with someone who doesn't care.."

Sonikchu: "I'm sorry for being a bad kid dad.. You deserve a better son.."

Oswald: He has never held a single thing back ever

Gilbert: "Osweld I still.. Remember everything.."

----

💥: How reckless/paranoid are they?

Mark: Slighty Paranoid and reckless

Chriz: not recklace at all, Not really paranoid

Ceasar: Mid for both

Sonikchu: Super reckless, Not really paranoid

Oswald: Not reckless, Really paranoid

Gilbert: Super paranoid, Super reckless

----

🔷️: How good at lying are they?

Mark: Horrible

Chriz: Amazing

Ceasar: Amazing

Sonikchu: Horrible

Oswald: Mid

Gilbert: Amazing

----

🤔: Are they cynical, Realistic, Optomistic or just naive?

Mark: Optomistic

Chriz: Cynical

Ceasar: Naive

Sonikchu: Naive

Oswald: Cynical

Gilbert: Realistic

----

🤚: How rude/friendly are they?

Mark: Incredibly friendly

Chriz: Super friendly

Ceasar: Mid

Sonikchu: Super friendly

Oswald: Incredibly rude

Gilbert: Mid

----

🤝: Are they a people pleaser?

Mark: Yes

Chriz: Yes

Ceasar: Yes

Sonikchu: Yes

Oswald: Absolutely not

Gilbert: No

----

😔: How insecure/self assured are they?

0=insecure

10=self assured

Mark: 6/10

Chriz: 2/10

Ceasar: 0/10

Sonikchu: 9/10

Oswald: 1/10

Gilbert: 4/10

----

🎭: Do they try to compensate for something?

Mark: No

Chriz: Yes

Ceasar: Yes

Sonikchu: No

Oswald: No

Gilbert:No

----

🤜: How protective are they?

Mark: Very

Chriz: Incredibly

Ceasar: Incredibly

Sonikchu: Mid

Oswald: Incredibly

Gilbert: Kinda

----

⬛️: What are some flaws/bad traits they have?

Mark: Naive sometimes, Easily trusting, Dumb

Chriz: [redacted]

Ceasar: Dependant, Depends on others for his self worth, Hates himself

Sonikchu: Over confident, Dumb, Childish, Repressed memories

Oswald: Angry, Rude, Aggressive, Self conscious

Gilbert: Scared, Freezes up, Hates violence.

----

#the 3% // mark #think // ceaser #finally // ask #the best hero // chriz #just a sidekick // sonikchu #please dont leave me // gilbert gray #why should i keep trying // oswald #important

[chicagofanfictionfan]

Home For the Holidays Part 4

After dinner Tony, Dante, Gibbs, and Jack moved to the living room.

“So when is everyone due to start arriving?” Gibbs asked.

“Mom and Dad get here tomorrow morning and the squadron has been filtering in already. A few of the guys are staying with Flash, a couple decided hotel rooms were better since their wives were with them and only two can’t make it till New Years.” Tony smiled. “Pretty impressive turn out.”

Dante looked at Tony and sighed. “They will always come when they are able Tonio. The only reason we don’t gather everyone every year is because they do need to spend time with their own families. Given the choice you always will win hands down.”

“Well we are a fun group. Not much left to get ready though, Jack. So we can sit and relax.”

Jack looked at Tony with that piercing Gibbs stare. “You mean to tell me son, that you did everything?”

Tony swallowed realizing that he was on Dante’s side. “Just a few things…not too much really...took it easy…” Tony muttered.

Gibbs was hiding his smirk as he watched what transpired; it was really too much fun to see Jack in all his grandfatherly glory.

Raising an eyebrow Jack continued. “Might want to speak up a bit son, don’t think I heard everything.”

“I might have done a few things. I honestly took it easy but I was bored.”

Dante looked at Jack. “He did the majority of cooking too.”

Tony’s jaw dropped open. “Seriously Dante? You would throw me under the bus? Your own damn husband?”

Dante grinned at Tony. “Damn straight! When he doesn’t behave and puts himself at risk, I’ll throw him under the bus in a heartbeat!”

Tony slumped down on the couch. “I really did take it easy.”

Jack smirked. “Taking it easy and you don’t belong in the same sentence. You’re just like Jethro, never did have a lick of sense when he was hurt. Always tried to do it all and never slowed down. Then wondered why it took twice as long for him to recover.”

“Dad.” Gibbs growled.

“True.” Jack patted Tony’s knee. “A lot of people care about you, nothing wrong with that or letting them help you till you’re back on your feet. You can’t tell me that you don’t miss being in the air.”

Tony grinned. “Ok…I give. I’ll take it easy and listen or at least to the best of my ability. And you’re right Jack. Not flying is killing me.” He turned his head to look Dante in the eye. “For you I will sit on my ass and rest.”

Dante grinned right back and leaned into whisper. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure your ass is well taken care of.”

Dante sat back up. “Since ‘Superman’ has everything under control, we can watch a movie and relax. I’ll make some popcorn.”

“Sounds like a fine idea. We can watch one of those holiday flicks you always go on about. Been a long time since I’ve seen them. Which ones have you boys got?”

Dante laughed from the kitchen and Gibbs struggled to hold in his amusement as well. Tony glared in their general direction before smiling sheepishly at Jack. “Have all of them Jack, as Twiddle Dee and Tweedle Dumb are inferring by their laughter”.

Jack chuckled. “Nothing wrong with a hobby son, movies are one of yours. Bet you have a few. So which one tonight? I haven’t seen Miracle on 34th Street in a great many years, how about that one?”

Tony stood to grab the movie. “Fine choice Jack. I always loved Edmund Gwenn as Kris Kringle.” He smiled at Jack. “Makes you believe in Santa and miracles.”

Jack reached out and squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “Miracles come in all kinds of sizes and many different ways son. Some of us are a might grateful that you’re here with us. A great deal to be thankful for.”

Tony nodded, unable to find his voice as he sensed Dante’s eyes on him. He met them across the room and found all the love that he held was mirrored there.

Tony cleared his throat. “Ok movie is ready and the popcorn and beer and a soda for me. Let’s do this.” The four men sat back and simply enjoyed the movie and each other’s company. When it finished Dante looked down and smiled. Tony was asleep with his head on his shoulder and relaxed look on his face.

He looked at Gibbs and Jack. “He made the spare rooms in the back up for you two. If you need anything you know where it is, take whatever you need.”

Gibbs looked at Jack. “I’ll get the gear from the car. I already figured we’d spend the night and brought our stuff.” Turning to look at Tony, he pulled the blanket down from the couch and covered them both up.

“You both look comfortable for the time being. I know you; you won’t wake him up, so sleep.” He ruffled Dante’s curls as he walked by.

Jack smiled. “I’ll cook breakfast in the morning; don’t get to do that often enough. I’m sure you have everything I’ll need in the kitchen.”

Dante chuckled quietly. “You know he shops for an army, plenty of food in the house. Cook whatever you feel like, if you don’t feel like it in the morning, I will. So no worries either way.”

“Night son.” He looked fondly at the two men snuggled on the couch. “See you two in the morning. Maybe we can hogtie him to a chair to keep him down”

“Won’t be needed, you’re here and he gets it now.” Dante smiled. “He wouldn’t want to upset his grandfather or dad.”

Jack smiled all the way to his room.

#Anthony DiNozzo #Jethro Gibbs #Abby Sciuto #Ziva David #Jimmy Palmer #Ducky Mallard #Timothy McGee #Leon Vance #Jackson Gibbs #Original Characters

[herestoburiedsecrets]

A Brief Analysis of the Captain

So there is this moment in Redding Weddy that I absolutely adore, which is this line:

I love it because i feel like it gives us a lot of insight into the Captain’s character. We have seen time and time again throughout the show that the Captain cannot let go of the war, and a lot of the time it is meant to be lighthearted or played for laughs, but this line is so filled with a sense of anguish and almost desperation. I feel like it really shows that the Captain really can’t accept that the war is over, because for him it isn’t.

I think there are two main aspects to this. The first one is that he can’t let go of the war because of the way it affected and shaped his life. It is shown multiple times throughout the show that the Captain bases a lot of his identity on his role and position in the war. He is literally known by everyone as ‘the Captain’ and he immediately takes the role of the leader of the ghosts whenever he can (especially in the first two seasons). His role in the war is something he clearly holds in great regard, and I don’t think he quite knows who he is without it anymore.

It is also almost certain that the Captain has trauma from the war, possibly even some form of ptsd. Living through a war is an incredibly traumatic thing to go through, regardless of whether or not you are a soldier fighting, and we do know due to his ribbons that the Captain fought in the front lines later in the war. There are several moments where the Captain acts or reacts in ways that are mostly considered odd or silly, and while a lot of the time it is played for laughs (and is very funny), and a lot of those moments could be read as him reacting in that way due to some trauma response. Having trauma from a certain event, especially something as big as a war, can make it almost impossible to let go of or move on from.

After World War 2 ended, everyone struggled to adjust into a peaceful life to some degree. German playwright Wolfgang Borchert compared men serving on the front line to ‘puppets on a string’. Peace was metaphorically cutting those strings, giving rise to the growing feeling of disorientation that many men faced, now having to be in charge of their own lives now after so many years of having a strict order they followed during the war. This level of disorientation was experienced by virtually everyone, with varying degrees of intensity, and the Captain would’ve been no exception. It is very clear that the Captain based a lot of his own identity on his title and position during the war, and the nature of his personality (being a logical leader who likes routine and order) means that he was well suited to the military life he led. We can generally infer that the Captain died quite shortly after the war had ended (given he is still wearing his uniform but has his ribbons). This means that while many people could adjust to a normal peaceful life after the war, the Captain didn’t have much time to adapt to the reality of peace before he became a ghost, adding the disorientation that he would’ve already been feeling. It really is no wonder that the Captain clings so tightly to the war, given it made up such a significant part of his life and during the time when he would’ve started to move on from the war, he died.

The second aspect to this is the fact that the Captain is dealing with a more metaphorical war inside of his mind. The Captain obviously grew up and lived in a very repressed time period, where nothing taboo was ever talked about or acknowledged, and it was normal for parents to be emotionally distant towards their children. Homosexuality was illegal, of course, and if someone was convicted of sodomy (as it was legally referred to as), the punishment was incredibly severe. Although during the war years homosexuality was largely excused (because of the blackouts, men could find each other in complete darkness and not be caught, and sex between men in places such as the navy and the army was largely accepted as a way to relieve sexual needs due to the lack of women present. Also authorities had much more pressing matters to deal with), it was still illegal (due to the Criminal Law Amendment Act in 1885), and after the war there was a rise in persecutions of homosexuals (one of the most famous being Alan Turing).

The illegality of homosexuality, as well as the taboo nature of the topic, all culminates in the Captain’s method of burying anything regarding his sexuality, possibly to the point where he himself is not fully aware of it. Coming to terms with the fact that he is, in fact, gay, would’ve been incredibly hard for the Captain, resulting in the war in his mind between his true self and the deeply ingrained societal norms of his time. Having to deal with internalised homophobia of any kind is incredibly difficult, not to mention having to deal with it knowing that in your time it was illegal. Obviously the Captain has grown a lot, and has evidently accepted himself (given his second attempt at coming out in 3x5, before getting interrupted by the art class), but that doesn’t mean that the journey to get to that point would’ve been easy.

Struggling to dealing with the fact that a literal war is over while also going through a metaphorical mental war all culminates in Cap’s genuine inability to let go of the war, as this line perfectly demonstrates.

#cat.txt #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts the captain #the captain #when I say i think about this moment daily i am not joking like I genuinely think about this line a lot #i know not a lot of what I said is new information or anything people haven’t said before but i wanted to put my thoughts into words #i have been thinking about this a *lot* #also may i just say that cap isn’t the only ghost who can’t let go of their past bc all of the ghosts struggle with it #it’s just that it is especially true in cap’s case #i think pat struggles with it a lot too - like with being unable to let go of carol and creating clubslike he used to do in scouts #and even sometimes treating the ghosts like he used to treat the scouts he taught #like the parrallels between pat and cap are surprisingly similar #maybe i’ll make a post on it #also I am very very proud of the growth that cap has had throughout this series #i feel like that is important to say idk why #cap my beloved

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Comms

Title: Comms

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN! Teen reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: PG

Warning: Cursing, mention of wounds, blood, scared Mando.

Description: In an unexpected raid, Din finds himself unable to find his foundlings and searches for them.

Request: Hey! I love your stories and thought that I would submit a request myself. So this is about Din having a teen foundling/adopted child. They’ve known each other for a little over a year now and even if they don’t show it a lot they’ve grown attached to each other. So this particular story would be about the foundling nearly dying and Din being a scared Dad (I hope you get what I’m going for. Kind of a fluff/Angst story with comforting afterwards😅)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took forever to write, I've been travelling and my computer has been messing up so I have not had time to write at all. Anyways, here it is! I hope it's to your liking. It took me awhile for inspiration to hit but I am pretty happy with how it ended up. Enjoy!

....

“Okay kid, what do we do when we get in trouble?”

“Call for help and signal our location.”

Call for help and signal your location. That was all you were supposed to do, the one rule Din gave for you before he took you along with him anywhere outside of the safety of the Razor Crest. He considered himself lucky that you rarely wandered off without letting Din know where you were going, and that you always seemed to be able to handle most dangerous situations on your own. Maybe it was because you fretted to be too much of a bother for Din, seeing as he took you in almost a year ago when he could have easily left you. Din didn’t see it that way, if he was honest. You were valuable to the group, taking care of Grogu and the ship when Din could not, and he believed it his duty to protect all on the ship. Only once or twice did you call for him, and he was quick to come to your aid.

He did not think that today would be the day where his timing risked your life.

The Mandalorian found himself aiding a local trading village with a raider issue in exchange for information about a bounty he’d been pursuing. He’d led a group of men over to what they’d suspected to be the raider’s hideout and set up for an ambush. The Entrance of the cave’s dunes felt barren, and only after the mens’ legs grew sore from crouching and backs ached from huddling in the dark was it that Din began to suspect something was wrong. The quiet environment was abnormal behavior to the raiders he’d encountered before, no doubt this specific group would be any different.

“They’ll see you!”

Startling the men surrounding him, Din shot into the air and stalked the vicinity. The dunes’ walls stretched for meters long as he kept his piece raised, occasionally scanning weak spots for life forms or any piece of equipment. He paused, frowning a moment when his scanner detected nothing.

That was the first sign that things weren’t going as planned that day.

“...hiss…”

“...m..do... v.llage... here…”

There was the second.

Din raised his arm to speak into his comms.

“Y/N?” Nothing but static came back from the comms. Din fidgeted and smacked it a couple times before grunting in frustration.

Damn, comms were jammed.

Wait, they were jammed.

And in a moment of a horrible realization, Din was quick to grab the men and make their way back to the village. When they arrived they found the village in chaos- buildings were burning, villagers running, and materials and pieces and bodies strewn across the ground. For a moment, Din froze in fear and worried that you were on the ground as well, your comms still ringing static and Grogu taken from you, lost to the raiders, or worse, the Empire.

Din quickly made his way throughout the village, barely rounding the first corner when a group of raiders assaulted him. He threw punches at the first raider, using their momentum to kick them hard into another. After several dodges and shots from his blaster, most of them were dead aside from one that laid on the ground and clutched his blasted leg.

Din marched over and pressed his blaster against the wound. “Where are the hostages being held?”

As it turned out, the raiders had no plan of keeping hostages. When Din finally tracked the building where captives were supposedly held, he was unable to remain collected when he found that you and Grogu were nowhere to be found. Instead, he stood before raiders responsible for the attack, their blasters disturbingly put away as they argued amongst one another. Din didn’t bother listening, he looked around but saw no sign of his foundlings.

“Wrong door.” He said simply before taking out his blaster and shooting the raiders.

Pocketing his piece Din ran out of the stronghold and went outside, calling for you and Grogu. He thought about the worst possible scenarios that could have happened to you two as he took out the raiders pillaging the village, until all but one remained, the leader. He found him in the main courtyard of the village, his face hidden though his body seethed with labored breaths. He stood there for several moments before Din heard one last labored breath before the leader’s legs buckled beneath him and he slumped to the ground with a sickening crack of skull on stone. Hm? Din didn’t know what to make of this, and further stalked over, hand on blaster, examining the body. Upon closer look a blaster wound to the stomach was made more visible. So, someone got to the leader before Din could. That leaves the question… who?

A quick look around the area pointed out a trail of blood.

The Mandalorian followed this trail without any real reason behind it.

He found the remainder of the villagers at some point along the way. Sullen masses of faces mixed together, mourning the loss of their villages and lost ones but kept busy with treating the wounded. Women sat in huddles cooking with what food was salvaged and children sat quiet. One stood out apart from the rest in Din’s eyes, a large male leaning over a group of medics. Din recognized him as Cyrukee, the villager’s chief, who noticed the lone bounty hunter from the corner of his eye and stood up. In his arms was the most beautiful thing Din had seen all day, Grogu. The baby gurgled in joy as he walked up to the chief.

“There you are.” Din didn’t realize that he was holding his breath when he sighed in relief, taking Grogu into his arms.

“Sir.” Cryukee barely got a word out before Din turned to him.

“I’m looking for a youngling- my kid. Have you seen them?”

“Sir, please.”

“They’re this tall,” Din rears a hand near to your height, “they were with this little green baby. Your husband, he took them to the school. Where is he?” The Mandalorian made a full turn around to look for the red robed headman who was last responsible for your care. He reached for his comms and tried to reach you again. His voice rang back at him, and in a terrible moment of realization he realized that that was your comms.

“Where are they?”

“Sir, let me explain.” Cyrukee wore an exasperated expression and looked as though he was about to speak before one of the medics from the group he was with requested to speak with him. He spared a glance at Din as though he struggled whether or not to say something. And then, Din followed his arm towards the medics he was just with. Din didn’t know what to make of it, not able to recognize any of them. The Mandalorian took one last look at the chief, whose grave expression gave him reason to worry, and slowly walked towards the group of medics. He buzzed through the comms, trying to pinpoint your location. As he got closer he heard medics speak in soothing voices and their patient hyperventilating. Had it not been his own voice coming from the center of the personnel he would have moved on, instead he could not find the will to move. Grogu looked at him expectantly.

One medic in particular took notice of the beskar-armored man. He and some others quickly got up and pushed Din away before he could force his way through the medics to take a look at you.

“Hey, wait-wait-please.” Din grunted at the force and staggered several steps back. He took a moment to collect himself and Grogu sneezed in his arms. Dust must have gotten into his nose during the scuffle. “Please, my ward- my kid. That’s my kid.”

“Just a moment,” one of the bloodied nurses kept her hands on Din’s chestplate longer than he would have liked. He didn’t push her away though.

“I need to see my kid.” Din looked her in the eye, hoping that she could see his desperation through his helmet.

His kid. When Din looks back on this he would think about how he’s never referred to Y/N as his own before. He would have liked to think he said that so the nurses allowed him to pass easier. But deep down, he knew it was because of how much he cared for them.

“I understand but please let me explain. Sir, Sir!” Din retreated in defeat on his second attempt to get past her and the other nurses. She stared into his eyes and patted his shoulders, Din didn’t know whether she was trying to comfort him or control his movements. “They’re traumatized enough right now, and you moving around in that armor of yours will only make it worse.”

“What happened to them?”

“They had an encounter with Jetwal,” Din’s blood boiled at the recognition of the raider’s leader who’d died before him. “according to the children, your child was leading them to the outskirts when he found them. They killed him, he was threatening the children, and they shot him. Now, listen to me. They did get injured. Several blaster wounds to their limbs and upper torso- sir, listen please I cannot allow you to go to them just yet- they’re still panicking right now but I assure you their wounds are being treated right now. They’ll be fine, but disrupting our work will only inhibit us from treating them properly.”

She watched his gaze linger to the sound of your crying. “How much longer until I can see them?”

Din was not pleased to find that he was only allowed to see you when the nurse came for him herself. Reluctantly he walked a little farther away from the medics when asked to give them more space, and sat down with Grogu bouncing on his knee next to a young Twi’lek running their hands over their lekku to soothe themselves. Between glancing at the medics to keeping Grogu entertained, Din didn’t realize how much time had elapsed before noticing the nurse had come to his side to collect him.

She took a seat next to him. “They’re hurt very badly, but with time their injuries will heal. All they need to do is rest. You can see them now.”

Grogu giggled and played with the nurse’s finger that was threateningly wiggling on his little tummy. “Can you take him for a moment?”

Din stood up and gave Grogu a pat on his little head and rubbed his large ears out of habit. Something you used to do to calm the little green alien down after a terrible meltdown. Even under his helmet Din smiled at the alien before dredging towards you. You laid on a pile of fabrics that functioned as a makeshift cot, but you looked like you had a pile of fabrics on you with the amount of bandages that wrapped your body. You didn’t notice Din approaching you as you stared straight into the sky. Din wondered what you were thinking. What could you be thinking? From his knowledge, this was your first time dealing with major injuries from blasters. It must have made this whole ordeal so much more frightening to you.

Maybe Din was too light on his feet, recoiling instantly when you jolted at his touch and groaned in pain.

“It’s me, it’s me.” His voice was soothing, even more than normal which surprised him.

A sort of wheeze escaped your lips and you coughed. “Mando.”

“Hey kid.”

“I tried calling for you.” A gasp. “They jammed the frequencies.”

“Your message barely came through, kid. But it made us realize what was going on. We got here before more damage could be done because of you.”

Your form relaxed. “Good, good. Grogu?”

“With a nurse.” “The one with the sweet voice.”

“Yeah.”

“I liked her voice-” A cough. “Sounds like my mom’s. She was nice. She helped calm me down.” At this point Din had stared at you long enough to realize how puffy your eyes were from crying. He didn’t stop himself from reaching over to brush your H/C hair out of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“I’m pretty fucked up, huh?”

Your eyes were already locked onto his when he met your gaze. A tick passed, and Din’s eyes fell to the wounds you were referring to. He shook his head. “No, kid. That’s not what you are.”

“Feels like it.” Din scowled at your words.

“There are too many fucked up people in the galaxy, kid. You´re not one of them.” You look at him with a raised brow. “Y/N, you barely have any combat experience yet you took on Jetwal? What were you thinking?”

And you said something that surprised him.

“I was thinking of you.”

And Din couldn’t find any words. He cleared his throat and you continued, “We were alone and I had no idea when you’d come, I was scared something had happened to you because I couldn’t get a hold of you through the comms and that guy was coming at us and-” You inhaled sharply, wincing at what Din assumed was a jab in one of your wounds but he didn’t know how to help. You calmed a moment later, closing your eyes and furling your brows together. “I thought about what you would have done if you were there. You always looked like you knew what to do.”

To say that Din was proud of you would have been an understatement, he was beaming wonders underneath his helmet but realized that you couldn’t see through the beskar.

“I thought I’d lost you both.” Din admitted. “But I’m very proud of you. You saved lives, Y/N. That’s no easy feat for someone of your age.”

You grinned at him and laughed. “Did you do something like this when you were my age?”

“Yes, but I didn’t end up as fucked up as you did.” “Hey!” Din laughed and raised his forearm to block your playful hits.

A moment of silence falls between the two of you before you look at Din again. “Do you know how long we’ll be here for?”

“With your injuries, no clue. I’ll talk to the medics and Cyrukee to see what is to be done.”

“Okay.” You nodded, your fingers twitching involuntarily. Din’s hands find their way to your hair again. “Mando, I’m tired.”

“Rest. I’ll be here with you.” He watches you half-heartedly nod at his words and doze off in a matter of seconds. The injuries have taken a toll on your body, Din suspects, and he pulls a sheet over you. He sits with you, watching villagers talk amongst themselves, speaks with those who come by to thank him for his help, and accepts Grogu from the nurse when she comes over, thanking her for all she’d done for you. She told him that a thank you was not owed to her, and that if you were to need anything she was only a call away.

And when he was finally left alone, Mandalorian took one look to take account for his two foundlings. They slept soundly and with luck, heads full of dreams. Most importantly, they were safe in his care once again.

Din realized he’d been holding in a breath, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

.....

Taglist:

@kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek

#din djarin x teen!reader #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x y/n #din djarin is a dad #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #star wars x y/n #star wars requests #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfiction

[kissbentennyson]

I have no idea if you'd do this but I need a nega ben x reader. He's my favorite out of the alternates. A softer one shot would be nice but whatever you're feeling is good too! I'll take any content I can get!

*Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica begins to play* Yeah me too.

Nega Ben x Reader | reader uses they/them pronouns, but dresses femininely.

Spill

He’d been waiting all day, and I mean, all day. Classes always seemed to drag on and on longer when he wanted something, and sure, he could have skipped. But that would have taken too much effort not to get caught. He isn’t afraid of the cops or the school administration… But dealing with his parents? Yeah, no. Not worth it. He’d b-lined it across Bellwood, all the way to the “café” he frequented. Truthfully, it wasn't much of a café seeing as how they specialize in more smoothie like drinks, but whatever. It has been rather crowded, too crowded, and everyone just wanted to get in then out.

He should have expected to bump or get bumped into someone, but it didn’t dawn on him until his espresso smoothie was all over your bright pink, fuzzy sweater. Both of you stood there with slack jaws and wide eyes as the brown liquid dripped from your chest and down onto an equally as pink lolita-esque skirt. It looked expensive, not in a daddy's money way, in a “I saved up to buy this” way. And so, he was prepared for hell.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!”

When it left you, Ben was confused. “Gosh, I should have been looking where I was going… But I was too distracted. Ugh, I-” You were flustered , more than actually, embarrassed is the correct word. “Um… Give me a second and I'll buy you a new one…”

“What?”

Watching as you tried to pat away the coffee with one of the recycled paper napkins the café gives out, a million thoughts passed through him. Of course he took the offer, he wanted that coffee. The line was a lot shorter this time around, and got by a lot quicker too. You ordered for him as he zoned out suddenly looking over your shoulder at him. “What?” He asks, watching you get even more flustered. “I just asked if you wanted anything else. Do you?” “Oh, uh, yeah.” he clears his throat, raising his voice. “The kale chips.”

You both walked out together, your head was down and you watched your shoes as you walked. “Again, I’m really sorry.” He glances at you with a slight side eye as he sips on the coffee, this was the gazillionth time you’ve apologized in just the last few minutes. “It’s… whatever.” He lets out a quick and breathy chuckle. “You apologize to me, but I ruined your sweater.” All of the sudden, your embarrassment seemed non-existent. A light and bubbly laugh leaving you. “Ruined? Oh, trust me, I’ll be just fine. I've dealt with worse.”

“Anyways! I have to get home and change, It was nice meeting you!”

-

The lunch room was beyond packed, packed like the reunion tour of a popular punk band from the 2000's. The doors and tables overflow with hungry and impatient mouths. You had managed to get in before the rush and snag a serving of less than okay school food, but by the time you got out of line, they had all flooded in. People had no concern for others around them, pushing and shoving like toddlers over toys, and you were getting the brunt of it. Not actually, but it sure felt like it.

You were halfway across the room and were looking around the tables for a free space- but it was too late for that already. A body slams into yours hard, you hit the ground as your food falls and splatters all of the chest of the sweater you had just gotten the coffee stain out of. Feet come down around you as you struggle to get up, the other person now looming over you. “Could you have watched where you were going!?” This whole situation was not intentional, but they had no right to get angry at you for that.

You felt the tips of your ears heat, unable to answer. Her eyes bore down on you as she sways with every passing body bumping into her. Suddenly, you feel a hand grab the back of your sweater and pull you from the ground, as if they were scruffing a cat. “Or, maybe you could stop play fighting with your friends in the cafeteria, like a bitch.” Her jaw drops and her freckled face goes red with embarrassment, obviously on the fact that she can't pawn her mistake off on someone else this time. The voice was rather monotone- in a way- compared to the words spoken. And rather familiar.

When you look up it’s the guy from the café, his neutral expression was a thin vale to hide his irritation- at least to you. His hand still had a grip on the back of your shirt, it was a firm hold, and it made you just a tad bit nervous. You swallow as the person swallows her embarrassment, rolling her eyes desperately to try and hide. “Whatever freak, sorry…” she turns and disappears into the crowd. You watch her do so, completely shocked at the situation at hand. Your lips part to say something, but his grip on your sweater releases, being replaced by an arm around your shoulder. Suddenly, you’re being dragged through the crowd and towards the cafeteria door.

He walks you out into the hallway, which is mostly empty at this point. “Thank you.” you choke out through the lump in your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking with you- and you aren’t in any position to object.

Eventually you reach the stairs. Under it is a mostly empty black backpack, and there’s a light reflection of gold from inside. The weight of his arm leaves your shoulders and he walks ahead, sliding under the stairs and sitting with his back to an old AC unit. You hesitate for a moment, you’ve only met this guy one other time… maybe you should just wait…… nah.

Sliding under the stairs right after him, you sit straight across from the guy. He’s already looked away. “I think we have third period together. Your name is Ben, right?” His phone is already out, and he’s scrolling through it. “Well I'm…” you give him your name, and all he does is look up at you with a nod before going back to his phone. The volume is low, but there are noises coming from it, ones you recognize. “Is that the Sumo Slammers mobile game?” There was no judgement in your voice at all, and suddenly the losing end sound plays.

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah?” “My little brother is obsessed with that series. He says that the mobile game isn’t that good, but he still played it to the end.” He let out a little huff like laugh through his nose, pressing the power button and finally giving you his full attention. “Yeah, maybe the old one wasn't that good, but this one is a new release- Doesn’t even have dubbed lines yet.” He clears his throat, slouching a bit as his hands slide into his pockets. “Actually, it’s not fully released in the states yet. I got pre access to the game.” He watches you smile, and suddenly there's a slight tense feeling in his chest.

“That’s really cool, are you a beta tester or something?” He shrugs. “No, and it’s whatever.” He glances away, gaze holding on the wall. “Well I think it’s really cool, especially since it's a series you like.” “How do you know that?” His gaze snaps back to you, suddenly defensive. “Your backpack is open and the sun is reflecting off of the cold backing of the trading cards.” You lazily point to the stairs above you, and there is the reflected image of the symbol on the cards. “Those are the collectors additions, from japan. I know because I’ve been looking for that exact deck for my brother.”

You watch as his cheeks dust a light pink color, lightly nudging his bag so it falls over. He starts avoiding eye contact, leaning back fully against the old AC unit. “Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be cleaning up your sweater?” You lean back against the stairs. “Yeah, maybe. But I think you’re kinda cool, and I’d like to stay.”

It was rather silent the rest of lunch, when you tried to hold a conversation- he would end it with short answers that gave you nothing to build off of. The bell rings above you like the screech of an angered bird. You both get up, him raising from the floor before you. You brush the dirt off of the back of your thighs, the light sound of unzipping catching your attention. You watch as the zipper of his hoodie comes down as he pulls it. Yanking it off of his shoulders, revealing the greenish-grey long sleeve he had under it.

“Here. Even if you get the food off, it’ll still stain.” He hands you the coat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, the already open flap lolling open even more. “Oh, thank you, I don’t know what to sa-” “Don’t. Don’t say anything. This never happened.” He walks past you and into the crowd of students, with his head down.

You watch as he does so, eventually looking back down at the hoodie in hand. You feel your face just slightly twinge with heat. “Yeah… Alright.” You say under your breath as you rush off to the nearest bathroom to scrub the food scum from your sweater.

-

It was a game day.

Not that he kept track of that, he had never been into football. Once upon a time he played soccer, but after he got the Negatrix any hopes of that former love returning was gone. Ben knew it was game day because his cousin was in her cheerleading outfit- and it was no were near time for cheer competitions. Her makeup was done and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up, and she sat in the front seat of her boyfriend's car chatting to said boyfriend about the routines she had to do.

Ben sat in the back, as he always did, waiting for the drive to be over. It came soon enough as the car pulled into the drop off area in front of the school, slowing to a stop. Neither Tennyson waited for it to fully stop before opening their doors. He got out, closing it with a slam and without a thank you. Gwen still leaning in and talking. The chatter of the hoard of tired teenagers flocking into the building almost drowned out the shouting of his name.

Almost.

He groans, looking over his shoulder, spotting the mass of pastels jogging towards him with something in their arms. “I’m so glad I got here on time! They were packed this morning- and I thought I'd be late- but I made it.” In your arms is his hoodie and an espresso smoothie. You hand him your gifts with a large smile. “I um, washed the jacket for you. Thanks again.” The bell rings and you give a quick wave before pushing into the school building yourself.

His jaw hangs slack, looking down at his freshly cleaned jacket- lint free, folded, and still warm- and the smoothie. When he moves there's a light cracking from inside the jacket, like the sound of a chip bag. He pulls back one of the folds and there is a bag of kale chips, stuck to it is a yellow sticky note written on with a pink gel pen. A phone number with “See you at lunch.”

“Who was that?” Ben looks over at his cousin, an impressed smirk on her lips.

“You’re getting mileage out of this, huh?” “Soooo much.”

#proship dni #alternate bens x reader #ben 10 x reader #ben tennyson x reader #nega ben x reader

[aggravatetheaxe]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request an imagine where a victim “escapes” from the slashers and hurts s/o in the process. What would the slashers do during and after? Thank you!!

Hi! I wasn't sure which slashers you wanted for this, so I put my list into a randomizer and went with the first 5!

Walter Sullivan

Thomas Hewitt

Jason Voorhees

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Erik ("The Phantom")

SLASHERS WHOSE VICTIM HURTS THEIR S/O

cw: mentions of suicide, reader being injured/in mortal peril, mentions of torture and killing etc etc

--

Walter Sullivan

Oh no. Oh dear.

You are possibly the only good, pure thing in this world or the Otherworld and someone hurt you? Walter is ... not happy, to put it lightly. The only person who should ever hurt you is him, and he won't do that unless it's for your own good.

This only enforces his belief that the world and everyone in it are monstrous. It drives home the truth he's already convinced of - this existence in terrible and torturous and needs to be destroyed if anything holy is ever going to be allowed to blossom again.

Whether The Victim is pre- or post- Walter's suicide, he's already stopping at nothing to go after them. He doesn't view it as personal, he doesn't hold any particular hatred for most (most) of his victims; they're simply links in a chain. But this person, the one who hurt you ... it's personal. They'll die in absolute agony.

If the victim in question is pre-suicide, Walter will bring them down and find somewhere to keep them for later. This will not be a quick death.

While they're bound/gagged or knocked out, he'll check on you. You're special, possibly even the Mother Reborn, and he can't let you die until the time is right. If you're seriously injured, he'll see to it that you're taken to the hospital, and pray to a dead God if he has to that you'll be alright. If you're not seriously injured, he'll do his best to patch you up - he lived on the streets for many years and had to take care of himself, so he knows basic first aid.

Once he's certain you're safe, he will put you somewhere where you won't witness what he's about to do. Even if you want to see it, he'll insist you stay hidden, saying the sinner doesn't deserve to be in your presence. You'll have to really convince him if for some reason you want to watch.

Their torture will depend on what they did to you. If it was just a few scrapes and cuts, he'll let them feel every ounce of pain before they die. If they really hurt you, their torture will be prolonged. In his mind, and according to his religion, death is a sacred sacrament, and this evil being doesn't deserve its release. If they did something to seriously traumatize and/or sully you ... the crime scene he leaves behind is going to be grisly, to put it lightly.

If the victim in question is post-suicide, the results will be similar, but he has absolute control over the Otherworld - and he will utilize that. He will have his creations take care of you and keep you somewhere safe ... they may be terrifying, but they won't hurt you unless he wills it. As for the victim, he can twist them into their worst nightmares over and over again before killing them. He will make them see their wrongdoings and pay for their evil. They will beg for mercy and there will be none.

After it all, he will simply move onto the next one, with you somewhere safe ... until it's time. Until it's time. You are so perfect.

Thomas Hewitt

Dammit. If he'd just been quicker or smarter, he could have caught them before they escaped and hurt you. He immediately blames himself.

There's no time to beat himself up over it, though. He briefly checks to make sure you're not bleeding from anywhere vital and sends you (or locks you up) somewhere safe before going after the victim. You're on your own for first aid for now - unless you're literally dying, he can't let them leave the property.

If you are literally dying, he's staying and doing all he can to help you. But if Hoyt yells, he may have to pawn you off on someone else and hope they do a good job taking care of you. He'll hold your face and give you tender kisses goodbye - whether you want them or not - because this might be the last time he ever sees you.

He chases the victim in a fever, much more erratic than you would expect from him. He's faster, less careful, more inclined to put himself at risk just to get a swing in at them. It's not generally anything personal when he kills someone - it's something he does for the good of his family, and because he was told to. This one he's not interested in saving for meat. They hurt you. You, his special person. He's going to grind them into the mud, and he's not even going to let Hoyt have a go at them.

Sometimes, sometimes, he struggles to see the animals in his victims. But this one ... he doesn't even feel the urge to twist them into an animal. That's a whole human, an evil one, one he wants to kill. It's a different feeling for him.

Once it's all over and everything's calmed down, he's rushing directly to your side. People don't come around all too often, so he's comfortable putting down the chainsaw for now. He neglects any skin projects he planned and lets someone else do the butchering, focusing on taking care of you, especially if you're seriously injured and put up in bed.

If you're not as seriously injured and tell him you're fine, he's still keeping an eye on you ... and making sure you're well-fed. You've been through a lot and it was all his fault. He doesn't want you to be exposed like that again. Next time someone comes around, he'll insist you hide somewhere.

Jason Voorhees

It's a toss up whether or not he'll actually notice you're hurt. Not because he doesn't care or anything, but because Camp Crystal Lake is a lot of ground to cover and there's a low chance he'll be in the same area as you at any given time.

For this imagine, though, let's assume you've found your way to him or he's sensed you're in trouble and has rushed to you.

You were supposed to be safe in the cabin, so he's a little irritated that you wandered out, but that's completely overshadowed when he realizes you're hurt. He stops everything he's doing and clinically and thoroughly pats you down, identifying every solitary injury.

Just like his mother before him, he is a vengeful soul, so he is not letting this go even if you're just scraped or bruised. If you are critically injured, he'll at least get you to the cabin and get a tourniquet on you.

Otherwise, he leaves you behind. Not very mindful, but you should know that he wants you to get back to the cabin or at least stay out of the way. He is no longer thinking of you - he has established his target and knows what he has to do. He's laser focused and decisive as he stalks after them, using anything at his disposal to get to them.

Their death is quick - he doesn't play around - but he has a lingering sense of irony and playfulness. If there's a particularly interesting weapon nearby, he'll take them out with that; or perhaps he'll hurt them in the way they hurt you, just, you know ... more fatal. And a lot gorier.

After that, he'll move onto their friends, until every last one is dead. Once his objective is completed, he is returning to you directly and finishing the job of patching you up.

He can't help but feel a little guilty that you were hurt. You shouldn't have left the cabin, true, but perhaps he should have been watching for you. He should have locked you up. Pamela might say rude things in his head. Then again, she might comfort him. If she doesn't like you, maybe she'll even wish he'd left you to die.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Well ... you usually keep him around to scare off other Ghostfaces - something he's very handy at - but you don't usually run into trouble with his victims.

He doesn't really tell you to go anywhere in particular when he's killing. He knows you can take care of yourself. But now he feels stupid for not having a backup plan. Of course some asshole was gonna eventually identify you as his loved one and try to get cute. He should've had something prepared for that.

But, if he's good at anything, it's improvising. He skids into whatever room you're in, drops his weapon, and pulls his mask off right away to check you over. If you're only mildly injured, he's visibly relieved, and tells you to stay put while he deals with whomever hurt you. If you're more seriously injured, he'll grab your phone and shove it in your hand. "Get in the car, get the fuck out of here. Drive to the emergency room if you have to, just leave."

If you're unable to drive, he'll make you call emergency services - or call them for you, if he has to. The game is over, he's done playing; this isn't fun if he's not winning. Everyone in this place is gonna be dead and he'll be long gone by the time the ambulance shows up for you.

The one who hurt you is going to get an extra special surprise. A particularly grisly death, and a bunch of selfies/short videos of Ghostface with the corpse - taken with the victim's own phone, posted to their instagram, tiktok, facebook, sent to any discord groups, and any other social media they have. If he has the time, he'll even make them in meme formats (definitely posting with meme captions, the fucking troll). He'll probably send a copy to you as a "hey, look what I did!"

If there are survivors, especially if that survivor is the one who hurt you, you better believe he is immediately doxxing them. Since he's had a little time to cool down, he might even play the long game, maybe catfishing and blackmailing them. Ruining their pathetic little life even further would be pretty fun. In the end, though, they'll die like all the others.

When all is said and done, he's going to be there for you, helping you recover any way he can. He'd suggest rest (for an amount of time relative to your injury), some movies and candy, maybe some video games. And time spent with your favorite Ghostface, of course, right?

He'll never forget what happened, though. Even though the person is dead, he'll be stewing and pissed off about it for a long, long time. And he won't let something like that happen again, or at least, not without a contingency plan in place.

The hash mark/tally mark he stitches into his costume to symbolize this kill is gonna be twice as long and large as the others, maybe in the place you got hurt as a reminder.

Erik

You already know what's about to happen.

If anyone so much as hurts your feelings they're getting menaced and receiving a strongly worded letter - actually physically harming you? That's suicide.

If he can't immediately kill this person, or if you're seriously injured, his primary objective is helping/comforting you. He has to push down a lot of wrath to do it ... every instinct tells him to immediately dispatch the fiend responsible ... but you are more important to him than anything in this world, even revenge. He will administer any first aid you need and may even drug you with ether to ensure you rest.

Don't think that means your attacker is off the hook, though. As soon as he decides you're well enough, he will put you somewhere safe - lock you away if he has to - and kill them. His preferred method is the Punjab lasso, but if they did something particularly egregious, he'll knock them out and take them to his torture chamber. They have a lesson to learn before they go to Hades.

Another option is, like Deacon, playing the long game ... playing with his food, stalking them, making them live in fear before they die. But he has a lot of wrath in that skinny little body, so it's a toss up as to whether or not he'll actually be able to follow through with that for very long. It depends on his mood, really!

He will keep the killing and torture hidden from you, of course ... unless you express an interest in seeing the vengeance being carried out. He would be worried for you, however, and advise against it. Those sights are not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for someone as beautiful and good as you.

Once all is said and done, it's as if it never happened. As if that person never existed! What a happy thought! Sometimes you even think Erik has completely forgotten the incident ... until he's stalking another victim and he locks you away again, and you remember you are always on his mind. He will never, never let that happen to you again.

#imagines #walter sullivan #walter sullivan x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees x you #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #erik the phantom #phantom x reader #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher community

[jschllatt]

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 | 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Prompt: (Based off of the song I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys) Clay’s recent fame leads to a difficult decision to be made. Months later, he’s still regretful. You seem to be fine, so why can’t he move on, too? 

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, slight angst

Pairing: Dream x GN!Reader

Words: 2.5k

Masterlist

I spent a week on this and idk how I feel about it but I hope you enjoy <3

Clay had been consumed by an overwhelming emptiness, his entire body hollow as the lack of your presence took its toll. 

Two months. Two devastating months had passed since he’d made a grave mistake, and now he was facing the agonous repercussions. He was a mess—anyone could see it. Between his long, disheveled hair, the light scruff that covered his face, and his bloodshot eyes, it was clear that Clay’s mind had been somewhere else. And it had been. Every passing second was a constant reminder of his solitude, causing the emptiness in his heart to evolve into a deep, incessant void, no longer inhabited by the happiness you had ingrained in him just months before. Why? Clay was overcome with a sense of deep regret as a result of your absence, feeling more alone than he ever had before. What could have possibly happened to make him feel this way? To make you leave? The answer was rather simple—he was just too damn busy. 

Clay had dedicated a considerable amount of time to his career, filming or streaming during the little free time he had. As he grew more popular, the time that you had spent in each other’s presence dwindled significantly, each day becoming lonelier than the last. Your interactions with him had shortened drastically—what were once long, lingering kisses placed on your forehead had devolved into chaste pecks, void of any true care or meaning. While you understood entirely that Clay’s career was important, you found yourself slowly losing hope.

You realized it one day as he was filming. 

It was a day no different from the last. Clay was recording a Manhunt video in his office, his voice shrill as he begged his friends for mercy. He was always loud when he filmed, and though you had chastised him for it countless times, he never listened. A loud sigh escaped your lips, going unheard, and you shifted your position on the couch, uncomfortable. Everyday seemed to be the same—each as lonely and frustrating as the last. Clay’s ignorance only fueled your apathy towards your relationship more, and you couldn’t help but find yourself growing hopeless at the thought of Clay being unaware of your unhappiness. Your troubled thoughts continued until a week had passed—a long, grueling week in which you had hopelessly tried to burrow your apathetic thoughts. But you couldn’t. You were giving up. The realization of your unhappiness made a pit grow in your stomach. You knew that you cared about Clay, but you couldn’t keep living the way you were—tired, unacknowledged, pitiful. 

And so, you let him go.

Clay was editing by the time you gathered the courage to face him, your stomach nauseous as you approached his office door. A light knock signaled your presence, and Clay muttered a quiet ‘come in,’ his voice raspy after hours of unuse. Blowing out a breath, you entered the room, your expression sullen upon noticing Clay’s inattentiveness. His eyes were still glued to his monitor, deeply focused on editing rather than your presence. You waited for a few seconds, silently hoping he would pay you any mind, but he didn’t. A wave of disappointment washed over you, though you managed to keep your voice steady as you declared, “We should break up.” Clay tensed in his seat, suddenly fixated on your words rather than the hours worth of footage he was editing. His chair turned with a quiet squeak as he swiveled around to face you. “What?” You sensed the subtle indignation of his tone as he squinted confusedly at your abrupt words. “We should break up.” You were much quieter this time, unable to meet his eyes as your words died silently in the tense air. You wrung your hands together anxiously as you leaned back on your heels, feeling awkward under Clay’s intense gaze. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just stayed quiet and dealt with it. Maybe—

“Okay.” 

Immediately, your eyes flickered up to meet his, filled with a silent desperation as you searched his emerald irises for any indication of his intentions. Nothing. 

“Okay?”

Clay remained silent for a moment, his body stiff as he leaned back in his noisy chair. His expression was inscrutable as he stared at you blankly, trying to find the right words to say as he watched your face remain solemn at his confound brevity. His voice was level as he spoke, “I know I’ve been busy lately. We haven’t spent a lot of time together and that’s my fault. I could sit here and promise to change, but we both know I can’t—not right now.” Though you felt your heart shatter, you knew he was right. His job was too important, too time consuming.

A nod signaled your understanding and you turned to leave, feeling overwhelmingly dejected. 

“Hey.” You turned around to meet Clay’s eyes, noticing the hurt that was settled in them. “I hope you know I care about you.” You fought the urge to cry and shot him a watery smile, struggling to keep your tone unwavering as you agreed, “Me too.”

Two months had passed. 

Clay had been struggling. Everyone knew it—his friends, family, even his fans. It was clear that the once cheerful, happy man had become melancholy, suddenly depressed and unable to hide his unhappiness on camera. There had been numerous speculations of why this was, but only few knew the truth. Sapnap was among one of them and had been staying at Clay’s for the past month, creating content with his best friend while simultaneously making sure he was okay. Though two months had passed, Clay was still a mess. Perhaps it was because it hadn’t hit him that day. He had momentarily convinced himself that his career was more important than you, but deep down he knew that wasn’t true. He wanted so desperately to reach out to you, but assumed you had moved on—another incorrect belief of his. Clay cooped himself up in his home, never leaving unless it was urgent. He had sunken into a deep depression and the only remedy for his pain was you. You. He treated you so poorly. Everyday was a constant reminder of your absence and it was his fault. He could’ve made more time for you, or at least spent the free time he had with you. 

Remorseful thoughts ran through his head everyday, nearly driving himself crazy, and Sapnap knew he needed to get Clay out of the house. 

“There’s a party tonight, I think we should go.” Clay immediately denied the offer with a shake of his head, grumbling to himself. His best friend sighed indignantly, blowing out a breath of frustration before stating, “You don’t have a choice, you need to get out of the house.” Sapnap stood his ground, arms crossed as he stared at Clay sternly. A minute had passed and Clay, aware of his best friend’s stubbornness, gave in begrudgingly, “Fine, but only for an hour.” Sapnap grinned triumphantly, exiting the room with a smirk. He slammed the door behind him, heading back to his room while yelling, “And shave, for fuck sake.” Clay shook his head, cracking a small smile at his friend’s words.

The party was overwhelming to say the least. Bodies swarmed the crowded living room, reeking of alcohol and sweat. Music blared from a speaker, a shrill, nearly deafening melody that was sure to give Clay a headache by the end of the night. The room was buzzing with conversation, every word drowning out in the loud atmosphere. Almost immediately, Clay was passed a beer, and he lifted the bottle to his lips to take a swig. If Sapnap was going to make him stay here, he may as well take some edge off while doing so. A few minutes had passed and he finished the bottle, discarding it in a bin nearby. “I’m gonna go get another drink.” Clay muttered to Sapnap, who was talking loudly to a group of people he’d recognized. His best friend patted his back in response, chuckling as he gave him a playful shove towards the kitchen. Stumbling through the drunken crowd, Clay soon broke free as he neared his destination. He grabbed a beer, opening it skillfully off of the edge of a table, and turned around wordlessly. Taking a big sip, he hoped to free his mind from thoughts of you. Though he wasn’t one to drink, especially when upset, Clay knew that, aside from you, alcohol was the only other solution to temporarily mask his pain. He’d already drank half before he warned himself to slow down, knowing that if he got too drunk, he’d probably do something he regretted. Turning around so he could rejoin Sapnap, Clay nearly dropped his drink on the floor, feeling his heart drop. 

His eyes met yours. And then, he heard the music. 

I wanna be your vacuum cleaner

Breathin’ in your dust.

Clay felt his breath hitch in his throat, noticing the surprise in your eyes as you stared at him, astonished. As he stood there, staring at you shamelessly, he regretted it—everything. He regretted how he neglected you, ignored you, prioritized all of the wrong things when the only right thing in his life was right in front of him: you. Memories flashed before his eyes, quick and familiar, yet saddening all the same. The way you smiled at him from across the room when he was filming, the way you held him when he was stressed, the way you spoke to him, softly, while he was streaming to check up on him. Everything.

I wanna be your Ford Cortina

I will never rust

You looked away, suddenly nervous, though the eye contact was all-too-familiar. You felt your heart begin to race as you processed every detail of Clay’s face—from his anxious expression to the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked like a mess. But so did you. You mirrored most of his tired, dejected qualities because you, too, were hurting. 

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

Snapping you out of your daze, you felt a tug on your arm. “Hey, you alright?” Your friend asked worriedly. Nodding briskly, you muttered a quiet ‘yeah’ and smiled in a poor attempt to sound convincing. Seconds passed, and you could still feel the intensity of Clay’s burning gaze as your friend tugged you through the crowd, handing you a drink in the process. You dared to look up, instantly locking eyes with Clay, and swallowed thickly. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, not when he was looking at you like that—desperate, longing. 

You call the shots, babe

I just wanna be yours

Lifting up the red solo cup to your lips, you downed its contents quickly, eliciting a few laughs and impressed hollers from your friends. You were never the type to drink, but you felt that it was necessary, especially when you knew Clay was still staring at you intently. Downing another shot, you risked glancing up towards Clay, but he was gone. Suddenly anxious as a result of his absence, you surveyed the room. Nothing. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” You said before you could stop yourself, not giving your friends the chance to answer you before you ventured into the kitchen. You tried to dodge the swaying, drunken bodies as you made your way quickly into the room, frowning upon entry. Clay wasn’t there either. You sighed, frustrated, and grabbed a beer, struggling to open it. You nearly laughed at your incompetence, feeling sadly nostalgic despite the humor you found in your struggles—Clay had always opened your beers, then teased you for being incapable. You fought back an onslaught of tears at the memory and sighed deeply, leaning against the table with your head in your hands. 

Secrets I have held in my heart.

“Hey.” Your body jolted at the sound of his voice. Daring to turn around, you felt your chest constrict at the sight of him clutching your now-opened beer, a sad smile plastered on his tired features. 

Are harder to hide than I thought. 

“Hey.” You breathed. Clay passed the beer to your shaking hand, trying to ignore the way his fingers brushed against yours. Chewing on the inside of his cheek nervously as he tried to find the right words to say, Clay admitted, “I’m sorry.” A few quiet moments passed, though they felt like an eternity, and you replied simply,  “Don’t be.” You tried to hide the tremor that shook your arm as you took another swig of your beer, noticing how Clay’s face fell in sudden disappointment. What? Did you say the wrong thing? You didn’t want Clay to feel guilty, to blame himself for your failed relationship though it was mostly his fault. Why? Because you cared about him. You could immediately sense the despair that washed over him. And, though you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the pure adrenaline from the moment, you hugged him. 

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

I wanna be yours

Clay tensed at your touch, wondering if the beer had gotten to him or if this really was happening. It was. He soon wrapped his arms around your waist, grip purposeful as he tugged you into him. Your head rested against his chest, the steady thumping of his heartbeat in your ear far more of a melodic sound compared to any music you’d ever listened to.

Wanna be yours

Clay swayed the two of you softly, resting his chin atop your head. You clung to him tightly, shutting your eyes as he held you, gentle. “I missed you so much.” You admitted before your mind could even process it. Clay chuckled, lowering his head so his lips were close to your ear, “I missed you more, baby.” You tried to fight the grin that plastered itself on your face as you took in his words, squeezing his torso with such force you were sure he’d explode. Clay went to speak again, caressing your sides so gently you could barely feel it, before being interrupted. 

“Holy shit, there you are, dumbass!” 

Sapnap. 

Clay pulled away from you to glare at his best friend, trying to ignore the shit eating grin on Sapnap’s face as he glanced at you. “My bad, I didn’t mean to interrupt...whatever the hell I just interrupted. I just wanted to make sure you were alright, but you clearly are.” Before either of you could respond, he left, shooting his friend a thumbs up before disappearing into the crowd. You couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction, noticing the slight rosiness Clay’s cheeks had suddenly sported, embarrassed. “Sorry about that, he…” Clay struggled to find the perfect word to describe his best friend, but trailed off. “Yeah.” You agreed, seemingly understanding what he meant despite his silence. Clay laughed, then. The sound was music to your ears, and when his smile faded, the two of you were serious again. Clay’s hand found refuge in yours as he began to speak, his face solemn as he confessed, “I lied. I can change. I will right now if you want me to—I’d do anything for you.” 

Wanna be yours

You smiled lovingly at the man, interlocking the fingers of his hand that wasn’t already occupied in yours, and pulled him closer to you, wanting him near. 

Wanna be yours

“Deal.”

#dream imagine #dreamwastaken imagine #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream angst #dreamwastaken angst #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt angst