#i wish we had more time to play it out but

[cameronluvr]

BABY DADDY — exbf!dad!rafe x mom!reader

summary: you have a baby with your ex, rafe, but when you arrive early to pick her up from his place, you discover drugs on the table…

warnings: toxic!rafe, arguing, mentions of cocaine, rafe being manipulative and a total asshole, cussing, angst, lmk if i missed anymore!

: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

your daughter is the most perfect little girl you could’ve asked for. she’s sweet, funny, sassy, and so beautiful. the older she got, the more she began to look like rafe. she has his bright blue eyes, his dirty blonde hair, the same shaped eyes and nose… she was his twin. and you were unsure whether or not you liked it so much. you love your daughter more than anything in the world, but gosh, you wish you didn’t see your ex in her every time you look at her.

rafe had her over the weekend, so when sunday evening approached, you left to pick her up. upon arriving at his place, you knock on the door and wait for it to open, but suspiciously, nobody answers. you frown, looking down at your phone to realise it was an hour earlier than you’d usually come to pick the baby up.

you knock again, only this time hearing footsteps rushing to the door. it swings open, and rafe greets you with a smile. “hey,” he moves out of the way, motioning for you to come inside.

“hi,” you walk inside, looking around. “where is she?”

“oh, she’s in bed.” he tells you, scratching his head. “already? she isn’t usually tired at this time” your brows furrow in confusion, it was only 6 PM. “yeah, well, she wanted to go to bed” rafe shrugs. you ignore him, walking to his bedroom to grab your daughter.

slowly opening the door, you see your baby laying awake in her crib, making you grin and walk over to her. “hi, baby girl” you softly say, reaching down to pick her up. she raises her arms, making grabby hands at you. you giggle as you pick her up, holding her on your side.

“mommy missed you so much,” you plant kisses on her cheek, making her laugh. rafe is stood by the door at this point, watching you both. you turn around and notice him, “did you have fun with daddy, hm?” you ask her, gently bouncing her up and down on your hip.

“yeah we did. we went to the park, and the beach, and we went to see your grandpa and aunt’s, didn’t we, baby?” rafe says, walking over to you both to give his daughter a kiss on the head. he loves her so much, you can see that. “ooh, that sounds fun” you giggle, looking at your daughter with a grin on your face.

“uh huh, we had the most fun” rafe smiles, tickling his daughter in your arms. hearing her adorable laugh made you both giggle in adoration.

“right, girl, we gotta’ go.” you tell your baby as if she can understand what you’re saying. you walk out of the room with her in your arms as rafe follows behind. you start to gather her things before noticing something in the living room.

on the table lies a fresh line of cocaine, with the bag it came from next to it. “is that?…” you ask, carefully setting your daughter down on the floor to let her play for a minute. rafe stops what he’s doing to look at what you’re looking at, both of your faces dropping.

“are you serious?!” you raise your voice at him, but not loud enough to scare or startle the baby. “what?” he asks so stupidly. “wh— what?!” your eyebrows raise and eyes widen in anger. “your one year old fucking daughter is in the next room and… wait, is that why you put her to bed?” you ask, connecting the dots.

he put her to bed early so he could feed to his drug habit.

“relax, she’s fine, isn’t she?” he asks, frowning as if you’re overreacting. “she’s fine? yeah, sure, that makes it all okay, rafe!!” you respond with pure sarcasm and rage. the two of you start to argue and bicker back and forth as your baby takes no notice. she’s too young to understand, and instead ignores you both to play with her toys.

“what if you got up to do something and she went over there, rafe?!” you yell, but again, not too loudly. “well she didn’t!” he argues back. “well what if she did, huh?!” you’ve never been this angry before, your face just inches away from his.

“that’s why she’s in my roo—”

“that’s why?! so she wasn’t even tired, you just put her to bed so you could ignore her while you sniff your fucking lines?!” you place your hands on your forehead out of stress.

“i wasn’t ignoring her!” rafe yells back.

“do you do this every weekend? is this why you took so long to answer the door?!” you ask him. “no, jesus, y/n! chill the fuck out” you stress him out now, watching as he runs his hand through his hair.

“chill out? you want me to chill out, after doing that shit around our daughter?!” you squint in anger at his stupidity. how could he be so selfish? to you and your daughter.

“i’m not doing it around her! i’m doing it while she’s in the next room, no big deal. i’m not hurting anyone” he argues, defending himself like a cocaine addiction is normal.

“oh, that’s fine then. it’s no big deal, you’re right. come on, y/d/n, we’re leaving.” you sarcastically roll your eyes before turning around to pick your daughter up from the ground.

“don’t think for a second that you’re seeing her next week, you can fuck off.” you face rafe for a moment before grabbing the baby’s bag with your other hand, and walking over to the front door.

“y/n,” rafe says, quickly following you to the door. “what?!” you snap, making your baby jump in your arms. “don’t be like that, i’m sorry!” rafe pleads, begging you not to keep his daughter away from him. he may love her, but boy is he stupid.

“rafe, this is the type of shit you could go to prison for, and get her taken away from us! is that what you want?!” you shout at him, not noticing as your baby begins to cry.

she ignored the fight when she was sat on the floor, but now she’s face to face with you both, witnessing the argument firsthand, which scared her.

“oh, baby,” you quickly divert your attention to her after hearing her cry, attempting to comfort her. “see what you did? come here” rafe blames you, taking his baby from your arms before you could protest.

“me?!” you ask him, the audacity. “yes, you!” rafe says, rocking the baby back and forth in his arms to calm her down, shushing her. “give her back to me, rafe” you demand, holding your arms out.

“no, you just made her cry.” he shakes his head, moving your daughter away from you as tears roll down her cheeks. “it was your fault!” you say to him, getting frustrated now.

“yeah, it’s always my fault. you want her to be raised around this? around her mom constantly yelling and being fucking crazy?” he asks as if you’re the problem.

“i— oh my god” you shake your head. “rafe if you don’t give her back to me, i swear to god…” you clench your fists. “what? you gonna hit me? with her in my arms? you could go to prison for that, too, you know” he tuts, shaking his head at you. he is the master manipulator in your life, you don’t know how you ever had a kid with him.

you love your daughter to death, but sometimes you just wish she had a different father.

“oh, fuck you, rafe.” you look at him with fiery eyes, almost as if you could murder him right now. “see how your mommy talks to me, baby?” he diverts his attention to the little girl in his arms, making you roll your eyes.

“your mommy can be real crazy, huh?” he says, only this time looking at you while he says it, which ticked you off the edge. “don’t talk to me about crazy, you fucking psycho.” you raise your voice at him, reaching for your daughter, but he moves her away again.

“rafe! let me take her home!” you yell. “this is her home, too” he shrugs, not yelling as he gently shakes her in his arms, trying to prove that you are the problem, not her daddy. “so you’re just not gonna give her back to me, is that it?” you ask, dropping your arms and giving up trying to get your baby back.

“that’s right. you can leave, she’s staying with me.” he nods. “why? so you can lock her away in the bedroom again? while you snort your fucking life away?” you still argue.

“believe whatever you wanna’ believe, but i am not giving her back to you when you just scared her” rafe shakes his head, keeping your daughter away from you which angered you deeply.

“it was your fault!!!” you say again, like you said before, but he never listens. “yeah, yeah” he rolls his eyes, turning to walk away from you. “where are you going?!” you raise your voice.

“we are going away from you so you can calm your fuckin’ psycho ass down. makin’ a baby cry like that, what’s wrong with you?” he says, still walking away with the baby.

there’s no winning with rafe. you get the blame for acting crazy, starting fights and trying to protect your daughter. you just dread to think what he will tell her when she gets older.

“you know what? i’m done. i’m leaving. i’ll be back for MY baby, asshole.” you shout, opening the front door and slamming it as you walk out. rafe always manipulated you, always got his way with you… you should’ve considered that before pushing his baby out a year ago.

this is SHORT and i really don’t know if i like it or not… hopefully you guys liked it! lmk what yall think in the comments. thank you so much for all the support, i LOVE you guys. <333

@cameronluvr

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #toxic!rafe #toxic!rafe cameron #dark!rafe #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #dad!rafe #mom!reader

[huexuri]

!! keep talking ⋆ — k.th

NSFW, MDNI!!!

summary: taehyun likes ur voice like a bit too much

warnings: fem!reader, switch!reader, switch!tyun, lots of dirty talk, pillow humping, masturbating, video call mutual masturbating

wc: 1.9k

taehyun misses your voice. a lot.

the both of you used to live in the same apartment to accommodate transportation to your designated campuses. until, taehyun had found a more convenient place to stay for a while before he would come back to live with you.

it was supposed to be just a few months, but those few months felt like years to taehyun. he missed the way you would come home and talk to him about things that happened that day, ramble to him about useless things. he never really paid attention to your silly stories; he only ever really enjoyed listening to the tone of your voice, the way the words roll off your tongue like butter. it's like music to his ears, the way your voice sounds like silk to him. he'd listen to you ramble on forever if he could.

especially when you sing your favorite songs over and over again, bustling around in the kitchen for any snacks, taehyun always thought of you as a smart girl with a pretty face and the voice of an angel.

he never expected he'd miss your voice so much.

so much so, he'd simply grow hard listening to your voicemails — feeling as if he's deprived of your voice, he's replaying them over and over again, wishing it was whatever you said whispered in his ear, even better if that voice of yours is put to use, moaning in his ear and calling out his name as you grind down on him; making sure all that rings in his puny head for the rest of his life are your moans.

my god, your voice. it's dizzying to him, hypnotizing even. he doesn't know what it is in your voice that he loves so much. like some type of drug. he loves everything about you as his best friend — but your voice,, it's everything to him.

so, imagine the guilt that washes over him when you ask if you could video call with him and play games. he's going to hear your voice for the first time in forever. shouldn't he be ecstatic?

no, because he knows he's going to fucking bust the moment you start to speak.

“taehyun? why isn't your camera on?” you spoke through the phone, half your face in frame.

“no, nothing. if i turn on my camera it'll be very laggy.” taehyun chuckled, a tinge of fluster behind his words.

“okay then! you should join me now, i'm already in game. i sent you the code earlier.” you said before putting your phone down so your camera faces the ceiling.

“o-okay.”

you guys played for a few rounds before talking again, and taehyun doesn't know how he survived listening to you yap for the entire time the both of you were playing. not in a bad way, but in a way where he's surprised and relieved he didn't make a mess of his shorts.

"anyways, finals are killing me. i feel like i've been living in the library," you complained like you usually would.

"ugh, tell me about it!” taehyun scoffed as he waited for you to continue the conversation.

"organic chem is so hard. it's like a bunch of nonsense i'm looking at.” you continued.

"at least you're not doing what i'm doing. it's like a different language. i keep questioning my life choices every time i open the textbook," taehyun said, his voice slightly shaky, but you thought nothing of it.

you nod at the camera. “uh huh, i get you. these days i think i've been okay though? i hung out with sumin and yeeun at karaoke recently. you know, we sang till our throats were hoarse. and also—”

your words go in one of taehyun's ears and come out the other. no, to him that's not important, not as important as the sound of you talking. all he can think of is how he's filled with guilt as he slips a fist beneath his boxers, grabbing onto his already leaking erection and jerking off… to your voice.

i'm really sorry, the thought rings in his head over and over again as his cock springs out of his boxers the more he pulls his waistband down to his thighs, leaning back against his gaming chair.

the tip of his cock glossy and starting to become a pinkish hue, he pleasures himself, free hand clutching his headphones to listen to your voice clearer, increasing the volume of the call.

he bites his lips as he closes his eyes as he starts to near his high.

“—she literally bumped into me and didn't say anything! she looked at me up and down with a dirty look, like i swear i would've—” you go silent. “taehyun?” you suddenly ask.

taehyun jolts from his seat, letting go of his cock as he readjusts his position.

“y-yeah? what?” he responds, throat dry as his adam's apple bobs up and down.

“are you even listening?” you frown at him through the camera.

“yeah,, uh, of course i am.” taehyun clears his throat.

you sigh. “okay, because you're awfully quiet. anyways, so she hit me—”

fuck, that was close. he thinks. his hand slowly picks up it's pace and he's stroking his cock again, back arching against the backrest of the chair as he throws his head back, mouth slightly agape and huffing.

“i don't even know what's her problem! right, tae??” you ask for his approval.

“r-right, ss—aah, keep talking, ‘m so close,” he whispers, his voice cracking. he doesn't register why you went quiet for an awkward 10 seconds before it finally clicks and he clasps a hand over his mouth.

“taehyun.. are you touching yourself ...?” you realize why his camera is off and why he seemed like he wasn't listening. then, silence. “taehyu—”

“i'm so sorry, y/n!!” taehyun blurts out desperately, with nothing else to say, he goes quiet again. guilt travels all over his body in the form of goosebumps as he thinks of what kind of stupid pervert he is, when all you wanted to do with him was chat.

“fuck, dude. if you just wanted to jerk off to my voice you should've told me.”

“huh? wait what?” taehyun's eyes soften.

“it’s kinda hot.” you mumbled as you shifted your camera down to your chest, touching it and rubbing the plushness. “come on, turn on your camera. don't be shy.” you said in a more demanding tone, testing the waters on what he liked the most.

“fuck, y/n, don't do this to me. your voice is…” taehyun sighed as he turned on his camera, showing his fucked out face, hazy eyes and swollen pink lips, glossy with drool all over them.

“you have a thing for my voice?” you asked as you smiled, positioning your camera slightly far away from your chair so he could see you fully.

“i've loved your voice since the beginning of time, i just… i-i don't know. ever since i moved out i realized i collapsed at the sound of your voice just so much more easily..” taehyun also adjusts his camera perfectly so that the frame cuts at his lower abdomen. you can see his shirt ride up above his pecs and his abs slightly moist with sweat.

“tell me what you want me to say then, this is your chance.” you fondle with your clothed breasts in front of the camera, nipples perking up and visible on the cloth, and taehyun slightly flinches at the sight.

“sssshit, i can't focus when you look and sound like that, stop doing that.” taehyun trembles under his breath as he fists his cock again. you can see his hand moving but you can't see his cock out. for some reason, the excitement turned you on way more.

“it's okay, take your time.” you said gently as your hands traveled under your shirt.

“fuck, need you to moan so badly. just whatever, fucking need you to use that voice of yours. please.” taehyun begged, his voice raspy and out of it.

“really?” you grabbed a pillow nearby and placed it beneath you. wearing nothing but a pair of dolphin shorts, you held on to the chair as you rocked your hips back and forth, arching your back to find the angle, starting slow and throwing your head back.

“p-please watch me, tae. i'd grind on your cock like this if you were—aah, mmfh~” you found your pace, looking at your phone screen with dazed eyes. you see taehyun running his fingers through his disheveled hair, holding on to the headphones as he bites his lips and fists his cock at unimaginable speeds.

“talk,” he breathily orders as his hips jitter in his hands.

“show me you're jerking off first,” you said, and taehyun sits slightly further away from the camera, showing an angle of him fisting himself.

“yeah, stroking that cock because my voice turns you on that bad, huh?” you chuckle as you increase your pace, your cunt rubbing onto the surface of the silk pillowcase. “f-fuuuck, tyunnie. a-aah—feels so goddamn good, just wish you were here so badly—!”

“yeah? i'll fuck your ability to walk out of you if i were there right now, holy shit.” taehyun pants and groans as he spits onto his cockhead. “does it feel good? does my cock rubbing against your cunt feel good?” taehyun fists his shaft to simulate the pillow you're humping.

“yeah, oh fuck, fuckfuck—” your mouth is wide open and your head is thrown back as you ride the pillow at incomprehensible speeds, your pussy throbbing and pulsing against the fabric as your slick begins to stain the cover. “you'd feel even better inside me, mmh~”

“keep talking like that and i'll actually go insane, spewing nothing but filth out of that pretty mouth of yours.” taehyun's hips thrust upwards into his fist as he watches you reach your high.

“isn't that what you wanted, taehyun? got off of my voice because you wanted me to moan and whimper in your ear?” you continued to hump the pillow as you felt yourself go dizzy. “gonna cum, a-aah–!”

“you're gonna make me— holy shit,” taehyun's moans became irregular and gradually louder. eventually after you came back from seeing stars, you could see his load splattered all over his fist and abs.

you stared at the screen blankly, mind barely able to function as the both of you pant heavily.

“i'm coming back tomorrow, i don't care.” taehyun remarks as he puts his pants back on and wipes the stripes of cum off of his abdomen.

“isn't it inconvenie—”

“i don't care about conveniency as long as i get to fuck you immediately after i see you again.” taehyun firmly said with a shit-eating grin plastered all over his fucked out face.

“promise?” you said, smiling at the camera.

“promise.”

later that night, you're shocked to see taehyun standing at your door with a bunch of huge ass bags and a pair of his favorite sneakers.

“you're still holding on to what you said?” you asked him as you let him in with a giggle. “come, i'll help you put these things down first.”

“i don't make promises i can't keep, love. i missed that voice of yours so fucking much, you have no idea… over the phone was clearly not enough.”

you cleared your throat. “i think i do have an idea, after what happened this afternoon..”

#taehyun x reader smut #taehyun scenarios #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #taehyun #kang taehyun #taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun hard hours #txt smut #xuri writes

[midnight-pluto]

COMPARISON — scar

You know Scar, and you know why he’s so obsessed with this ‘Rover’ character — he’s told you why, but why does it still hurt watching him act as if he was a lovesick puppy to them?

contains: established relationship, the relationship is lowk toxic, jealousy, insecurity, rovers gender is left ambiguous, canon-ish, swearing, angst, short fic

a/n: scar is so pretty omg; also the lack of scar x reader content is CRIMINAL

‘IT’S JUST FOR the mission, it’s just for the mission,’ is what you kept on repeatedly telling yourself in your mind, but it really doesn’t look like it from your side.

You can tell that this ‘Rover’ is prone to noticing the little things and figuring out everything with just one piece of the puzzle, so you decide that it’s best to keep your distance from the matter at hand occurring in the village.

The conversation they were both having was being played clearly in your ear — a hidden microphone on Scar’s waist, his idea, not yours. He offered up this idea as a way to assure you nothing special was happening, but you wish you would’ve never accepted it in the first place.

Hearing the words Scar say would’ve been sweet, if only they were directed towards you. You weren’t dumb, you could hear the flirtatious undertone in his voice as he spoke to them.

Swallowing thickly, you take a look at the picture given to you previously as to what Rover’s appearance was like; suddenly Scar’s words made more sense in your head.

Their dark hair was disheveled but still managed to look effortlessly good on them; did Scar ever think of you that way whenever he saw you get out of bed? Their clothes complimenting their natural appearance beautifully; did the red and white of your clothes really suit you?

It took you years to achieve what you have with Scar now, but Rover was able to see and receive genuine interest from Scar in just a matter of moments.

Just listening in on their conversation felt like you were the one interrupting something, like you were third-wheeling your own boyfriend, as if you were a side piece in your own relationship.

Embarrassing.

“Huh?” you audibly let out, tapping your earpiece with your gloved finger multiple times. Only the sound of static could be heard. “Shit.”

Scrambling for your binoculars in your messenger bag, you shuffle them out and life them to your eyes to see what has occurred in the village below. Narrowing your eyes, you see that Rover had skillfully disabled the microphone on Scar’s waist with their blade.

“Of course,” you scoff out, dropping your binoculars back in your bag and proceeding to walk away from the scene.

Your terminal beeps and lights up and you pause, seeing that Phrolova had called you. “Leaving so soon?”

Huffing out a sigh at her words, “I see no point in staying.”

Humming in thought for a moment, she merely says, “Alright, go on then.”

The soil beneath your feet crunches underneath you with droplets wetting them at the same time; the sky is clear today.

SCAR’S EYES WIDENED at the sound of the mic clattering onto the ground, falling from his waist. “Well, aren’t you good? I thought you wouldn’t notice it so soon.”

“And I thought you said you didn’t want anybody else intruding on our conversation, seems kind of hypocritical to have a microphone attached at your hip,” they taunt.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, burying down the feeling in his stomach. “But they too, were special to me, I just wanted to share a conversation with two very special people, and what’s the matter with that?”

“So they’re special to you?” they raised a brow, suddenly interested in the newfound topic raised.

Scar laughed at their attempt to get him to reveal information about himself, but he would never put you in jeopardy like that — never in a thousand years. “Did I say that?

“Well, it’s not like you’ll ever get to find out any time soon,” he stomps on the already broken microphone, smashing it to pieces.

Rover simply rolled their eyes, “Just give me back Yanyang so we can be done with already, I’m bored of your story.”

“And here I thought that we already established,” Scar took a few strides forward, “That you aren’t in the position to bargain.”

Unbeknownst to Scar, you had left your earpiece in, the sound of static becoming wonderful white noise to you. The unfortunate part was that you could only hear a few bits and pieces of their conversation out of context.

“…were special—“ were? What does he mean by that? Why is he using past tense? Is he saying that to fuck with them or because he thinks you can’t hear him anymore? Or are you just reading to far into it?

“..two very special people—“ it should only be one, shouldn’t there? Is he saying that Rover’s already as important — if not more important than you?

Harshly taking out your earpiece, you throw it into the dirt. Unable to let out a frustrated scream you let your anger out through crushing the earpiece under your foot.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you glare back down at the shattered earpiece beside you. Rubbing the corners of your eyes, you begin to walk away, “The white noise wasn’t even that good anyways.”

a/n: not my best work — obviously — since i wrote this in an hour, on my phone, with fake nails. but i was feeling like shit so i dumped it all here, sorry kinda sorry

#rin’s shots 🤎 #scar x reader #scar x you #scar x y/n #scar x gender neutral reader #scar x gn reader #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #wuwa x y/n #wuwa x gn reader #wuwa x gender neutral reader #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuwa fanfic

[janaispunk]

strawberry sugar

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~1.8k

summary: Your boyfriend spoils you on your birthday morning. In some... unexpected ways. :)

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, food play, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), ridiculous amounts of fluff

meant as a follow-up to delicate, but can be read as a standalone!

a/n: written for @iamasaddie's kinky writing challenge with the prompt food play for oberyn martell. it's already june 1st where i live, so here we go!

thank you @northernbluess & @luxurychristmaspudding for screaming about this with me, i love you <3

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates!

“Good morning, princess.”

The touch of soft lips kisses your closed eyelids, your nose, your cheeks and finally your mouth, gently stirring you awake. You hum quietly, contentedly, snuggling closer into your boyfriend’s warm arms around you. 

“Hi,” you smile, your breath ghosting against his lips, before you connect them with yours once more. 

It’s almost as if you’re still dreaming, enveloped by soft sheets and Oberyn’s warm embrace, the golden morning light flooding the room when you finally open your eyes. He’s already looking at you, your favorite crooked grin playing around the corners of his mouth. The dimple on his cheek is especially pronounced like this, making your heart flutter even after waking up next to him on most mornings for months now. 

“Happy birthday,” he purrs, one hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing the soft apple of your cheek. 

Your own grin widens and you lean into his touch. “Thank you,” you say breathily, like speaking too loud might shatter the quiet peacefulness of the moment. 

He kisses you again, lips moving against yours, giving you one swipe of his tongue against your bottom one before he pulls back, chuckling at the way you’re following to chase his touch.

“You stay right here,” he orders you gently as he swings his feet down to the ground and stands up, carefully covering you with the duvet that got ruffled with his movements. “Make yourself comfortable and I will be right back, yeah?” 

You nod silently, your smile beaming by now. You watch his retreating figure, only wearing his black boxers, leaving most of his body bare on display for you. Cords of muscle are moving under his golden skin, the sunbeams falling through your windows are catching in his dark hair, still ruffled from the night’s sleep, and you’re mesmerized. You always are when it comes to him. 

You hear his movements in the kitchen, the fridge and cabinets opening and closing, the clatter of something, and smile to yourself. When he had asked what you wanted for your birthday weeks ago, breakfast in bed had been your first response. 

Sinking deeper into the sheets again, you grab your phone, reading a couple of messages congratulating you, laughing at the photo of your childhood self that your mom had sent you. A sweet scent wafts from the kitchen into the bedroom and your mouth waters. 

Oberyn returns with a bowl of strawberries, another bowl of whipped cream and a stack of waffles, with a single burning candle on top of it. You giggle at the sight, scooching into a sitting position and helping him place the food on top of the covers. 

He lifts the plate with the waffles to your face and, winking at you, tells you to make a wish. You close your eyes, the image of his face still vivid behind your lids, and blow out the flame. As soon as he sets it back down, you pull him in for another kiss. 

“This is perfect. Already the best birthday ever. Thank you, baby.”

“Anything for you, my sun.” The endearment falls so easily from his lips, like he has no idea that it sends your heart soaring every time he says it. 

He holds a strawberry to your lips, his eyes glued to your face as you take a bite. When you playfully nip at his fingers, the deep rumble of his laugh makes a home straight in your chest, filling you with warmth. 

You watch him eat, watch his plush lips close around the fruit, his teeth sinking into it. His appreciative low hum at the taste in combination with the sight in front of you has you pressing your thighs together, your need for him always simmering just below the surface.

This must be what perfection is like, you think, looking around the room, taking in all the peacefulness that’s surrounding you right now. It’s almost overflowing, this love that you have for the man in front of you. And somehow, inexplicably, he loves you just as much. 

When Oberyn’s teeth dig into another strawberry, he catches your gaze, must see the heat behind your eyes. He winks at you, deliberately slowly biting into the fruity flesh, licking his lips afterwards without ever dropping the eye contact with you. 

“Are you full already?” he asks, a cocky smile playing around his lips.

“Not quite,” you tell him, eyes innocently widened. “But I got really hungry for something else just now.” 

“Yeah?” he chuckles, pushing the food further away and reaching for you instead. 

You meet him eagerly, pressing your lips to his hungrily. His hands are everywhere, spanning wide over your body, leaving a burning trail over your skin and pressing into your flesh so deliciously that you’re already breathing soft moans into his mouth. 

His fingers slide under the shirt of his that you’re sleeping in, trail over the lace of your underwear until he’s right between your thighs. The fabric is already drenched there, clinging to your heated skin. He growls at your obvious arousal, licks deeper into your mouth while his fingers trace the shape of you over your panties. 

He sits back, watches you with dark eyes as you blink up at him, breathless and pleading. You pull the shirt off of your body, baring yourself for him, hungry for the expression that you see on his face every time he lays eyes on you like this. 

“My pretty girl,” he muses, still lazily stroking his fingers over your underwear, not swayed by your desperate whine. 

He picks up one of the strawberries, dips it into the bowl of whipped cream and brings it up to your lips, watches with rapt attention when your mouth obediently closes around the fruit. It leaves bits of cream behind, and he’s on you in a heartbeat, kisses the mess away and licks deep into your mouth. You love when he pounces on you like this, his movements all gracefulness and unrestrained strength. 

“You taste so sweet,” he whispers into your neck, nipping at the skin there. 

You wiggle underneath him, trying to reach for a berry yourself, wanting to kiss the taste off his mouth as well. He stops you before you can dip it into the cream, one hand wrapping around your wrist, easily dwarfing it. 

“I have a better idea,” he grins, all teeth, and a feral glint in his eyes. “Going to taste even sweeter.” 

You watch in stunned silence as he finally peels your panties off of you and down your legs, then swirls two fingers through your wetness and sucks them into his mouth. 

“So much sweeter.” 

He easily plucks the fruit from your hand and moves closer to you, your legs easily parting wider around his broad frame. You whine his name, the realization of what he’s about to do slowly dawning on you. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the mere thought.  

Oberyn leans over you, drinking in your every reaction as he pinches the strawberry between two fingers and slowly trails it down your body. You shudder at the unfamiliar texture when he reaches your nipples, circling the hardened nubs and chuckling at your responding moan.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, wide smile on his face.

“So good,” you breathe, arching your back trying to get more friction, “please, Oberyn.” 

With a hum, he stops playing with your breasts and continues moving downwards. When he finally reaches your cunt, you’re dripping for him, wetness spread over your skin. He moves the strawberry through your folds with ease, eyes glimmering and glued to what he’s doing. You could almost come from the sight of his ravenous expression alone. 

He brings it up to your face again, showing you the red fruit coated in your slick. Holding your gaze, his teeth dig into it. You moan at the sight, one hand tangling in his hair to hold him close, pulling him into you once more. 

“It is even sweeter than I thought, princess.” 

You crash your lips against his, your tongue licking into his mouth with the need to share this with him, to taste what he tasted. It is sweet, mixed with the tangy hints of yourself. He pulls back much too soon, mischief dancing on his features. 

“Let me get you your own one,” he purrs, already reaching for the bowl again. “As a present, hm?” 

You watch with wide eyes as he goes straight for your pussy this time, dragging a second berry through your wetness, nudging at your entrance and bumping against your clit. A high pitched whine leaves you at that, and he arches an eyebrow at you, a smirk growing on his face. 

“I wonder…” He trails off, swipes the strawberry over your clit again, more purposeful this time. 

You're helplessly aroused, your hips twitching at his ministrations. He steals another kiss from your lips, before he sinks down between your legs, nipping at the soft skin of your upper thighs. 

Another kiss straight to your clit, a swipe of his tongue, until it’s replaced by the foreign fruity texture again, rubbing against you with calculated movements now. His tongue laps at your entrance instead, drinking up your arousal, before he fucks it straight into you. 

Your hips almost lift off of the mattress, a cry of pleasure falling from your lips, and you grab his head with both hands, fingers sinking into the dark strands of his hair. 

“Fuck,” you whine, almost overwhelmed with the sensations and white hot pleasure coursing through your veins. “Right there, please Oberyn, I’m so close–” 

His responding groan sends rippling vibrations through you, pushing you right to the edge within seconds. It swirls around you, the scratch of his beard against your skin, the wild glint in his eyes at your every moan, so obviously relishing in giving you pleasure, the movement against your clit, his tongue right where you need him – taking hold of you and sending you flying. You come with a shuddering cry, clenching around his tongue and flooding his mouth with your orgasm, as stars burst behind your eyelids and full bliss overtakes your body. 

Oberyn works you through it, not letting up until you’re weakly trembling underneath him, tugging at his hair once more. His face swims into view in front of you, a brilliant smile grazing his features. It’s sinful, the way his pupils are blown so wide his eyes are almost black and your arousal is sticking to his beard. You want to kiss and lick it off of him. 

Instead, the taste of fruit and yourself floods your mouth once more, as he brings the berry, covered in your orgasm, up to your lips. You share it with him, tongues and limbs tangled together.

“I love you,” you sigh happily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, ready to let him consume you entirely.

thank you for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are love and mean the world to me <3

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #oberyn martell #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell x f!reader #pedrostories #janas fics #little lady kinky may

[2minutesnotice]

Why People With Mental Illness And Trauma Deserve Love

(and why Blitzø Buckso is one of them)

Grab yourself some snacks and a drink, I'll have a talk with you people who go all for the

"If you can't love yourself, you can't love anybody else"

mantra, which is toxic as fuck.

And sorry for the typos 😬🥲

SPOILER WARNING Full Moon

tw:mental illness / coping mechanism / self harm self worth / shitty parenting /abusive and toxic relationships

First of all, I'm autistic, so a lot of scenarios I'll give you will come from my experiences because it's easier for me to feel empathy that way and explain a situation.

BLITZØ IN FULL MOON

People come into my DMs and want to rant with me about him. I get it. It seems he's an asshole.

And he IS.

Blitzø has multiple character traits which are trauma coded and boy what a can of worms that is. Most of them are really hard in your face, like the fact that he can't stand his own face in pictures.

Which comes from a deep rooted self hate, which comes up in self worth issues. Blitzø had his fair experience with drugs and alcohol , even drowned himself in last to get over his shitty experience with Stolas at Ozzie's.

I'm not saying he's suicidal, but Blitzø's biggest fear is, to die alone.

Because he KNOWS how he is. That makes him really self reflected. He knows how he behaves, he knows his own coping mechanisms.

That's why it's so easy to make him mad. He's mostly angry at himself in most situations, so it also happened in Full Moon. Blitzø uses anger to get things out of people, because most people react to anger, but he's not doing it to HURT people, it's the only way he knows how to get an reaction out of people.

The reaction HE wants. Since Blitzø has no self worth he has no clue WHY people should love him. So he shoves them away and keeps them at distance.

At the same time he CRAVES intimacy. And here's the conflict. Blitzø's love language is sex.

He feels the closest to people if he can be intimate with them. And yes, even in a weird "I fuck Chaz to be close to M&M" kind of way. He is krass with his talking about sex, he over shares, he LOVES to talk about sex.

Because he's good at it. And because it gets him close to people. If the show had more time I bet we would've seen Blitzø having multiple one night stands over the time. Yes, even with his arrangement with Stolas. Because there was sex before there were feelings. Definitely.

Shitty Parenting x Self Worth

Blitzø got sold by his own father as a play buddy for a rich kid. Yes the rich kid was Stolas and it was cute, but still, rich kid.

And we all have seen, that he wasn't good at what his father made him do in the circus but what Blitzø always had, was his pride. Also, he's very good at making things up as they go. Doing that damn horse balloon and making a joke about it, shows how he is capable of selling himself still as the best, even if it isn't so.

We don't know much about Tilla, but we know Blitzø definitely had a closer relationship to her then to his father.

I know we only have two concrete scenes which show what kind of an relationship Cash and his son had, but the "I wish you were my son" card for Fizz kinda draws us the picture here.

As a child who always had to compete with a sister which was highly gifted, this does something to you.

You try to be better, at any cost. Sounds familiar?

"I'll try to be better".

But what? In what will he try to be better? I think Blitzø doesn't even know at what he will try to be better, he just does not want to lose this. But what is this?

RELATIONSHIPS

IF Blitzø would have just cared about his business, he would've walked away with the crystal. Just like that. He would've said

"Thank Satan, I thought I would lose my business,thanks Stolas, it was nice as it lasted" and he would've been gone.

But he didn't. He listened to what Stolas said but he didn't LISTEN. Because it was confusing as fuck, even as The Audience just watching it was a LOT what was said and going from

"I'll let you go" to "I have feelings for you, please stay" in a second.

And of course Blitzø would not understand that. Because Stolas could not MEAN it. Because Stolas has servants who are Imps and he called him names, a plaything and if Blitzø is anything for Stolas, at first, he's a whore.

Blitzø sold his body for a service. For his business.

They could have made that arrangement about ANYTHING. Money, another hitman service, bodyguarding.

STOLAS made it about sex. The thing Blitzø knows, the one he CRAVES, the thing he is good at, besides killing people.

But the one thing Blitzø is not good at, are words and feelings. And Stolas had a lot of them, at once. And it felt not fair for Blitzø to be cornered like that, because he had no idea what was expected from him. And then he used the ONLY thing he knows, which always gets something out of people: Anger.

That's the words and feelings he knows.

And he got an reaction, but also had to deal with the consequences.

STOLAS AT FULL MOON

I love Stolas. But he he's living in a romance novel world and there's also, trauma.

Stolas first words I had imprinted in my mind were "I always thought love could be fun". He wished for a happy family his whole life and all he got was an abusive wife and a loveless marriage.

He is a dreamer. Someone who loves the small things and he is caring. He loves to indulge in fiction, he loves telenovelas because even if there's drama, there are relationships. Something he never had experienced.

Stolas is a soft soul. But he's repressed and depressed as fuck. And that's not only because of Stella, but his upbringing and the knowledge to live in a Golden Cage. But he never voices that he has problems with THAT.

See, Stolas is a prince, he grew up with servants, Imps mostly. In a palace. Even if he despises Stella's parties, I bet if he wouldn't be an outsider in his own race, he would be the one doing the parties himself. It would do him some good because Stolas is also, lonely.

While Blitzø lived in Circus tents and tried to proof himself, Stolas had to proof that he's worthy his title as a prince. Being married, the whole heir thing, his duties.

And then Blitzø appears out of fucking nowhere, seducing him (like in his novels!), staying with him the whole night (showing him he's obviously gay), showing him he can choose, that he HAS A CHANCE to be happy.

With Blitzø.

And then we see the duet and the second Stolas sings about how he wants this to go, I knew they will fuck up. Because Stolas had played out this scenario SO OFTEN in his head, that he has so many images of Blitzø in his head that he knows this will not work out good. He has hopes and dreams but in the end, the decision falls on Blitzø.

So we go to Full Moon and Blitzø reacts... poorly. He even mocks him. And then he starts screaming and shouting and guess who else was always shouting and screaming? Guess who told Stolas his whole marriage that he's not worth anything. That he's not worth of love, that he's a failure, that his head is in the clouds and mocked him about everything he loves.

Blitzøs only way to cope with too many feelings is anger, Stolas trauma is based on anger and rejection.

But Stolas reacted so FAST. He gave Blitzø the crystal and he told him that he gives him the offer to stay, because he has feelings for him (like in his novels!) and his hopes are so high and the second he does not get what he wants, what he needs, he snaps. He's disappointed. He's hurt.

Because he wants this so bad to work.

But it can't, because they're for now reading the same book, but they're so not on the same page.

Because, and now we're getting there, they have to deal with what was said.

TRAUMA AND RELATIONSHIPS

I'm married for ten years now. My wife and I met each other 20 years ago.

I was suicidal back then, I cut myself regularly, I was depressed and had an eating disorder.

But I had friends. And I had relationships. And I loved so so deeply.

And then I got together with my wife 11 years ago. I was freshly diagnosed with being autistic, my wife has ADHD.

She also has several PTSD triggers, I have childhood trauma from living with my Mom who's an alcoholic.

And yes, I am able to have an relationship. We love each other dearly, we care about each other. We learn from each other, daily.

We have bad days, but we are GOOD for each other.

Because you DESERVE TO BE LOVED, no matter what.

In the first place is always that you're responsible for yourself. You can't trauma dump on your partner in excessive ways because that's not healthy. BUT learning to share your experiences but still being responsible for yourself and your actions, is a whole different thing.

You can love and be loved, even at your lowest.

But you have to be aware that your partner is not your therapist and that communication in a relationship, in which both parties are mentally ill, is KEY.

You have to go to the same ground, you have to explain what are your boundaries, what are your triggers but you have also to accept that the other one is sometimes not able to deal with your package.

My wife and I, we communicate DAILY. We have totally different needs. We have totally different views and patterns to deal with things. But we love each other.

Because we respect each other's differences.

And that's the homework for Stolas and Blitzø. They don't have to TO GET BETTER, they have to grow and they have to listen, communicate instead of just dumping expectations at each other.

You can't expect someone to break a pattern that is carved by trauma, just because you tell them you love them. And you can't expect that someone's listening when you push all their triggers at once.

I'm really excited how this will go. It's heartbreaking but I guess now that everything is said, they can finally be honest, without all the trauma dumping and pushing buttons.

And as I said:

You're worth of love. You're worth to be loved and you can give love, even at your lowest. Your deserve love, even at your lowest. You ARE loved.

Thank you for reading! ✨ Gold Star for you!

#helluva boss #helluva meta #2minutes meta #stolitz #tw in text #stolas #blitzø

[apomaro-mellow]

This was such a cute mermay idea I had to do it

Nancy watched as they took the first mer out of the tank, nicknamed 'Billy'. His tail was a deep blue but she knew better than to attach too much connection between the coloration of the tail and their personality. He was anything but calm and soothing. If anything, she would call him a brute, but it was hard to even say that regarding an animal.

Sometimes fish could be aggressive. And clearly putting two males in one tank had amped up that aggression. Poor Steve had yet to leave his cave after Billy's last attack. They'd need a diver to help coax him out and tend to his wounds.

It takes a couple of weeks for him to recover and in that time, the team brings in a new mer, another male. Robin was vehemently against putting him in the same tank as Steve.

"He just got over what happened with Billy. What're you gonna do if this one tries to fight him again?"

"Steve isn't totally helpless", Nancy said, remembering the wounds inflicted on Billy as well. "Besides, we need to figure out if it really is just instinctual, territorial stuff or if there's something else going on."

And so the second male was put into the same tank as Steve's. At first, he was appropriately cautious, as was the other mer. They both kept to opposite sides of the tank. Then Robin began to notice some odd behaviors in them.

The new one, dubbed 'Eddie' by his wrangler Wayne, would sometimes poke and prod at Steve. He would do so and then immediately swim away, like he was bold but shy at the same time. Steve didn't lash out the way he had with Billy, so perhaps it was some form of play? It was times like these that she wished they knew more about these creatures.

Then Steve did more than just not lash out. He appeared to be playing along. Steve had never engaged in play. Honestly, to Robin he seemed a little haughty, like a prima donna of a fish. The gossamer frills of his tail, almost like a betta fish, gave him that look of someone above it all. But when he played with Eddie, he looked, well, goofy.

But he seemed happy. Healthy even.

Then, one day, while passing by on her lunch break, Robin noticed something she had never seen Steve do before. Eddie floated nearby while Steve swam in an alluring display, his tail undulating in a way that made Robin feel like she shouldn't be watching. So she didn't stay for long. There were always cameras on the tanks just in case something happened while no one was around anyway.

But she brought it up to Nancy immediately. Because if her suspicions were correct...

"It looked like a mating dance to me, Nance."

"Don't be silly, they're both males. And if that was possible, then why didn't Steve perform for Billy?"

"Uhh, he kept biting and clawing at him? Not very romantic. And let's not pretend homosexuality is a purely human invention", Robin pointed out.

Nancy was still skeptical. "Well, even if they are engaging in courtship, the fact remains that they can't reproduce together."

Unexpected babies could complicate things in the tank when they knew so little about mers to begin with. How did they even raise their young? It was the kind of question they'd learn the answer to sooner rather than later.

A few days after Robin took notice of the supposed mating rituals, a diver noticed that Steve's belly appeared to be a bit more full. They tried to get closer to inspect but in his first act of aggression, Eddie pounced with the intention to bite their head off. Thankfully, they were fully covered and got away with just a chunk taken from their goggles. Unable to inspect up close, the research team chalked it up gaining weight. It could either be from preparing for winter or having less stress to effect his appetite.

About a week after that, during a routine clean up, Nancy saw that the moment a diver went into the water, Eddie stood sentry at the cave and Steve was nowhere to be seen, presumably inside. Not wanting to agitate him, they waited until he was asleep to send a camera down. Through its night vision lens, they saw the two adult mer and what appeared to be a clutch of about five eggs, the size of grapefuit settled between them.

When the evidence came back, Nancy pointedly kept her gaze from Robin's 'I told you so' face.

"Don't look so smug unless you can tell me how this happened", Nancy said.

Robin shrugged. "I have theories."

It took about three weeks for the eggs to hatch, after doubling in size. The team kept their distance as Eddie's territorial streak rivaled Billy's when his mate was in a vulnerable state. But they checked in whenever they could. Only two of the eggs grew to full term and hatched, the other three deflating not long after being laid.

Nancy chalked it up to it likely being Steve's first mating and having come from a stressful situation. She was proven correct when a year later, he laid again, six this time, and they all made it to full term. She and Robin watched as Eddie and Steve floated together, tails in a twist and holding hands, letting the current carry them as their eight children chased each other around.

Robin nudged her partner. "We're gonna need a bigger tank."

#kinda wanna write steve/eddie pov too #apo writes #stranger things #steddie #mermay #mpreg #robin buckley #nancy wheeler

[senawashere]

We're on this together...(Chapter IV)

Bradley Bradshaw x Fem!Wife!Reader

Summary: Is it over now? Or is it starting now?

A/n: A MAJOR change is on the way!!

Warnings: Infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf.Use of alcohol,arguing,use of bad languange. Mostly angst.

20 APRIL 2022.

You nodded.

That's why you're currently in one of the most well known clinics in San Diego because Bradley didn't want to "risk it" and your leg shakes with anger at the thought, causing Bradley to rest his hand on your knee.

Car ride was complately silence. And after around one and half an hour you both finally parked your car to the parking lot and walked into the big hospital.

The sterile smell of the hospital immediately caught your nose. This scent wasn't helping you feel more stressed than you already were. But Bradley's tight grip on your hand seemed to comfort you at least a little.

He's nervous too, damn, he feels like he's going to throw up, but he has to stay strong for you and he relaxes a little when his lover rests her head on his shoulder and kisses her temple, which works because he's a little less nervous now.

"It'll be alright." You whisper and your husband smiles to hear you thinking positively.

"Exactly." He answers, his heart pounding with pride when he hears you optimistic for the first time in a long time.

You both are distracted by looking at socials on his phone for a few more minutes until a woman in white emerges from the office and looks up, reading a spreadsheet to say. "Bradshaw?"

You both stand up, You instantly reach out for Bradley to hold your hand tightly, and after greeting the woman, you both enter where the doctor is waiting for you behind her desk.

“Bradley, Y/N, this is a pleasure.” She shakes both of your hands.

"Thank you. Pleasure is ours." Bradley responds with the hand now holding on your lower back and gently pulling the chair forward for you to sit down on.

"Okay, I understand you're here because you're having trouble getting pregnant, right?" The old woman asks, looking under her round glasses.

"Yes." You hum, swallowing dryly.

Bradley takes your hand but continues to stare at the doctor, knowing his wife hates public attention, something he's learned the hard way over the last dozen years.

"We'll be running some tests on you both next week, don't worry, just to make sure everything is as it should be."

You both nodded, and both felt small in the hospital chairs, holding hands, afraid, feeling that time had not passed, and feeling that you were still sixteen years olds and had no idea what life was really like.

Talking about a future that would never come, wishing they could be like them again forever, they gathered in the treehouse as You stroked Bradley's uncontrollable hair, as he clumsily talked about his dreams, thinking that maybe one day he would love to be become a fighter pilot. Like his dad.

They both are individually subjected to multiple tests and studies, and after about three hours both of your works finish, returning home exhausted and not even eating dinner, you both quickly crawl under the covers and seek each other's warmth.

While Bradley plays with the ring on his ring finger, his head lies on his lover's chest. "Are you scared?" he asks and your hands stop in his hair.

"Maybe a baby isn't for us."

You look up and look at him in shock, feeling your throat close at the raw and harsh words and you heart starts pounding when you see his face.

"Darling, don't say that."

You look away, staring at the ceiling, feeling the tears gathering in your eyes until they fall down the sides onto your pillow.

You are not even sobbing, not screaming, nothing, just...crying. Silently.

"Oh, my love.” He grabs your arms to pull you closer, switching positions so you are on top of him, dipping his bare chest in the salty drops.

"We're going to have them, fuck, we're going to have the baby or maybe babies. We just have to wait for the results. I know we are going to."

He wants to cry too, but he can't cry in front of you when you need him more than ever. He will find a moment of solitude where he can lighten his own burden, but not now.

"I just want to make you happy." You cry and he frowns.

"You think I need a baby to be happy?"

Bradley questions, holding your waist and carresing with his thumb.

"Darling, as long as you're with me, anything can go to hell, I'll be the happiest man on earth. I don't need a baby, I don't need anything but you, my soul."

You hug him tighter, digging your nails into his shoulders and closing your eyes, breathing in the scent of home your husband gives off. Now you understand and blindly believe in it.

As long as they are together, they don't need anything else.

I know this is sad but it might be the last sad chapter hehehe!!!

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsign-fox @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @hardballoonlove @topguncortez @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @eternalsams @callsigns-haze @promisingyounglady @els-marvelvsp @cevansbaby-dove you are not comfortable please tell me!!

#sena writes #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfic #bradley bradshaw x fem!reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x wife!reader #top gun rooster #topgun maverick #top gun fan fiction #top gun au #we're on this together

[occatorcreator]

Second Chances

Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

3 - Friendship Forged

After the battle, Red, Yellow, Blue, and Green make friends with Purple, in spite of Purple's own doubts getting the better of him.

One of the villagers insisted that Red stay for a check up.

“If what you describe to me is true,” they told Purple, “then there may be possible side effects of her possession. I’d like to make sure she’s fit to go home.”

“Fine then,” Purple said, but struggled to hide his grumbling, “but don’t blame me if these ‘guests’ don’t wish to stay.”

“Oh, please, when they see the welcome feast we’re preparing, they’ll want to stay!” The villager said, nodding.

“Feast?” Purple echoed, “hold on, what’s this about a feast?”

“To celebrate your victory over Herobrine and the Wither!”

As the villager predicted, the stick figures were more willing to stay with the prospect of a large meal. It took some convincing to let the Villagers take Red away for a check up.

“Relax, my villagers mean you no harm,” Purple said.

“I know,” Blue said. She lingered by the window, leaning to look inside the hut. “I just hope they don’t discover something else wrong.”

“Hovering won’t help,” Yellow said, patting Blue’s shoulder. They glanced at Purple. “Say, uh, Purple was it? Do you mind if we help with the cooking?”

“Knock yourselves out,” Purple said, waving dismissively.

Yellow smiled and bowed. “Thanks! Come on, Blue!” Yellow held Blue by the shoulders and ushered her away from the window.

Only Green remained, fiddling with the Minecraft icon.

“Don’t you want to join them?” Purple asked.

“In a bit. I’m just thinking how we’re going to get home given that portal is knocked out,” Green said. He looked around in case the villagers listened in. “You know that creature is still out there?”

“You mean the Wither? I’m well aware of that,” Purple huffed, “give it some time, it probably will float off in the Nether elsewhere. It’s a large place.”

Green shot Purple a skeptical look. Purple kept his face as neutral as possible to appear firm. 

“Plus, if that way is blocked for you,” Purple said, “then I can show you how to use that block to make a portal home.”

Green regarded the icon in his hands nervously, eyes flicking to the window.

“And I’m certain that the spirit that possessed her has been purged from it,” Purple said, “just hold onto the icon for her if you’re still worried about it.”

Green’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he smiled at Purple.

“Thank you, for everything,” Green said.

“Don’t mention it,” Purple said, head lifting as he basked in the gratitude of a fellow stick figure around his age. He forgot how nice that feeling was.

“So!” Green put the Minecraft icon away. “How did you make this place? Or did the Minecraft people make these?”

“You mean the villagers?” Purple asked, finding himself smirking. “This was a joint effort between me and them, though my castle was…”

And, like that, he found himself just chatting nonstop as he led Green through a tour of the village. Talking was rather easy, much to Purple’s surprise. He felt like a wise sage, imparting knowledge to a curious and willing pupil. Green wasn’t the only one with questions; they ran into Blue and Yellow while cooking, and they too decided to follow Purple around with their own set of questions.

Purple quickly learned that these three had developed preferences in the single day they had played Minecraft. Green had a keen eye for design and building, offering way too many suggestions to improve Purple’s buildings. Blue favored farming and cooking and really wished to learn about potions, while Yellow took to redstone and suggested helpful contraptions for the village. They were earnest, sheltered, and nothing like the jaded teens at school.

I wonder if these dorks could even survive high school, Purple thought in amusement.

It did leave the question about what Red would be interested in, had she not been possessed. And with thoughts returned to their friend, the three became anxious.

“I’m sure they’re done by now,” Purple said, leading them back toward the direction of the hut.

As they retraced their steps, they spotted Red in the middle of a crude animal pen, petting the cows and the pigs.

“Aw, these ones are so cute,” she cooed. She looked toward an empty space, grinning as if she was looking at someone. “Which one’s your favorite?”

“Um, who is she talking to?” Yellow asked, scratching his head.

“Spirits,” the villager beside the gate said, “or what she believes to be spirits.”

“Excuse me? She’s hallucinating?” Green balked so loudly that it startled Red.

“Hallucinating?” She repeated, looking worryingly from her friends to the empty air.

“Oh, don’t fret about it. Side effects are to be expected after a possession from Herobrine, and luckily this one is minor,” the villager said. They went up to Red with a metal bucket. They milked a cow and gave the bucket to Red. “Take a regiment of 3 buckets of milk daily for a week, and the symptoms should fade.”

Red looked down at the bucket, frowning.

“And if seeing spirits still persists after that, come see me again,” the villager added, patting her back. “And no skipping a dosage, got it?”

“We’ll hold her to it,” Blue said.

The group left Purple’s side to crowd around Red, chittering and asking of her health. Purple gave them some distance, but couldn’t help but listen in.

Spirits, huh, Purple thought, I didn’t see any online guides mentioning that. I heard of Herobrine, but he wasn’t in the game, not really. Did Alana mod the game?

His chest tightened at the thought. If something could be added to the game that could make people see “ghosts”, then why couldn’t someone add a way to stop aging?

Purple’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a caldron being hit.

“Soup’s on!” A villager shouted, “Eat up!” 

“Oh boy, I’m starving!” Red said. She gave the cow one last head pat before vaulting over the fence. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

“Not fair! You're cheating!” Green exclaimed and, with a burst of energy, he, Yellow, and Blue came running after her in an impromptu race.

She got her good cheer back quickly, Purple thought, blinking as he walked up the stairs after them. A dining table was constructed in the center during the cooking, filled with all the Minecraft dishes available. Of course the villagers made nice color-coded seats for their guests of honor, with a throne at the end for Purple. 

Purple, trying to shake the creeping funk that threatened to ruin the mood, strutted to his spot and sat down with Green and Blue at his right and Red and Yellow at his left. Villagers took their own seats further down, passing bowls around.

“Wow, these are so good!” Red exclaimed as she took a bite of bread.

“Yeah, you were missing out from the tour earlier,” Blue said, “Purple’s got a nice place!”

“Lord Purple,” a villager shouted, “could you and your guests tell us all about your battle today?”

Purple took a sip of water and nodded. “Well, I was going into the Nether to collect some… resources, when I heard a sound…”

From there, the group partook in stories, questions, and then just silly jokes and anecdotes. Purple quickly learned that Red was the clown of the group, quick to make a pun and run her mouth. She had a soft spot for the animals too, avoiding most of the meats aside from fish upon reading its descriptions. 

The conversation was lively and Purple found himself chuckling at some of their antics.

“You gotta teach me potion making!” Blue said as Purple corked open another water bottle.

“Maybe next time,” Purple promised. He raised his glass. “A toast then?”

The others raised their glasses.

“To a new friendship!”

The four beamed back at him.

“‘To a new friendship!’” They shouted in unison, clinking their glasses together.

This was nice. Pleasant. For the first time in a long while, Purple felt truly joyful.

I could lead them on adventures and teach them all the tricks I’ve learned, he thought. Their curiosity and joy of the game, despite the harrowing ordeal, was infectious, and Purple wanted to recapture that feeling again. Just like when he and mom were building the castle and —

“Be grateful you never met him. He’d be horrible to you too.”

Chestnut’s words came to mind without warning. Like a thunderstrike, his good mood vanished in a puff of smoke so painful and sudden that it startled him. He froze, the scene before him slowing to a crawl and forcing him to observe it with fresh eyes. Delicious food turned to ash in his mouth and looked just as appetizing. The festive crowd turned from bubbly to oppressive and noisy.

The stick figures smiled and laughed with each other as they toasted, but Purple now found their laughter annoying and smiles too wide. When Green looked at Purple and saw the visible change of mood, his smile faded. 

“You alright?”

No, Purple scowled at Green’s concern. 

Out loud he said. “I’m tired,” he said, “I need to retire for the night.”

He left the table, pushing past the villagers coming by with more food.

“Lord Purple?”

“Purple, wait!” Green called out.

“I’m not in the mood. I’m tired,” Purple hissed. And it was true. It was like he was drained of battery. His limbs were stiff, and inventory items weighed him down with every step. 

How could he partake in joy like this? How could he deserve to have good meals when his mother will never eat with him ever again? How could he be proud of his accomplishments when was too weak to fight Red’s possession the “proper” way? How could he bother to make friends with them when all his friendships crumble to dust in the end?

“But, we need to go home, remember?” Green pointed out.

“Unless you want them to stay the night?” a villager added, unhelpfully.

Right, Purple did not want them to stay. He marched back and stuck his hand out to Green for the Minecraft icon. He climbed to a distant spot from his castle and made the portal frame, lit it, and tossed the icon back to Green.

“When you enter, you need to make another portal in this formation,” Purple said, “when you do, light the frame just like I showed you, and it will take you to where you need to go. Now, if you don’t mind.”

He marched past Green and Red, ignoring how the group stared at him as he retreated to his throne room.

Just get away. Get away.

When he collapsed on his bed, he instantly fell into a dreamless sleep.

=

“Lord Purple?”

Purple groaned and waved the villager away.

“Let your lord sleep,” he grumbled, turning away.

“My lord, you’ve been holed up in your castle for a month,” the villager said, “and we haven’t seen much of you. You’ve not fallen ill, have you?” 

“‘m not sick,” Purple said, “I’m just tired.”

“You’ve been tired for a very long time.”

Purple buried his head in the pillow, feeling terrible. It wasn’t like the villagers were wrong; this was the worst fugue he experienced since his mother’s burial. The sour end to the feast with those stick figures ended up coinciding with his birthday week. The realization that he was another year older, with only himself and a bunch of video game NPCs to celebrate it, left him with no energy to leave his bed. His mother wouldn’t be there to see him, to share gifts and spend time with him. He had no friends his age to invite, and thinking of those stick figures he met only hammered in how absolutely alone he was. 

As such, he spent his birthday laying in bed, crying. He knew he was breaking his promise to his mother to take care of himself, but how could he keep going knowing he had a future of more lonely birthdays and solitary holidays?

What's the point of trying anymore, Purple thought, if I am always going to feel this way?

“You also have visitors here,” the villager cut through his ruminating thoughts, “They want to see you.”

That got Purple to pull himself up from his bed. It was most slow and painful, as his fatigued body struggled to prop himself up. He shot a confused look at the villager.

“Who’d be visiting me at this hour?”

The villager quirked an eyebrow in return. “Your friends from the Wither battle.”

“Wait, they came to visit?” Purple asked, eyes widening further as he straightened up. 

As if on queue, the door to his chambers knocked wildly.

“Hey, Purple, it’s us!”

Purple let out a groan, recognizing Green’s chipper voice. 

Why are they back? He thought, covering his eyes, it’s been a month! I thought they'd forgotten about me…

“Can you send them away?” Purple groaned.

“I will try,” the villager sounded unsure. Purple heard them walk back, opening the door, only for the door to be slammed open as the gang burst through the door.

“The hell?” Purple jumped to his feet, shocked to find his poor villager flattened by the doorframe and four eager stick figures crowding before him.

“Rise and shine!” Red greeted, waving.

“What are you all doing here?” Purple snapped. He didn’t care for decorum at the moment, all he felt was irritation at the sight of their chipper faces.

They at least looked sheepish about their intrusion.

“Well, we wanted to follow up on you,” Yellow pointed out. “Sorry we took so long! We tried earlier, but your villagers said you were too sick for visitors.”

“We sent them a soup recipe for you!” Red said “Did you like it?”

Purple nodded even though he didn’t know what either of them was talking about. The month cooped up in the castle was a blur, and he had no memory of them visiting or eating any soup. Or much of anything, come to think of it.

“Plus, you said you’ll teach us how to brew potions,” Blue said, continuing on, “remember?”

“Yes, but,” Purple started, “it’s been awhile…?”

“I know. We would have visited a little more,” Green said, “but now we’re here. And you’re…” he paused as he actually took a good look at Purple and his room. “…feeling better, I hope?”

Purple shrugged. “Sort of,” he grumbled, “but I can’t teach you today.”

“Are you still under the weather?” Red asked, having the gall to sound so down. All four visibly deflated, their eagerness fading into sadness and concern. 

The sight of it made Purple both rankle from and clamor for their attention. A dual desire for their concern twisted and tumbled with the urge to be left alone to continue sleeping. He really didn’t know which he should follow.

“I’m not sick anymore, really. It’s more so that I’m… out of supplies,” he lied, “I didn’t get any time to stock up. Given that I was in bed for a good while.”

To that, they perked up. Green grinned widely at Purple. “We could get you some!”

Wow, Green just offered a nice way to get them off his back, but he did still need to play it up. 

Purple turned away, shaking his head. “I can’t ask you to do that, it’s such a long list,” he exaggerated.

“No problem!” Yellow said, “I bet you could give us 100 items and we’d get it all to you in under ten minutes.”

“Is that so?” Purple remembered their conversations and his observations. These four were rather competitive; they loved to boast and heckle. Oh, this would be very easy.

“Very well, I bet I can add a little incentive,” he said, pulling out his list of potion ingredients from a chest nearby his bed. “This is what I need. The first one to come back here with all the items on this list will be the lucky one I tutor in the secret art of potion brewing.”

There it was, the manic look in each and everyone of them. These were sticks determined to win.

“Got it memorized?”

The group nodded in unison.

“Then chop chop, timer’s ticking,” Purple said, clapping.

At that they proceeded to scramble out the door with shocking violence. Yellow and Green were elbowing each other out the door, while Blue sharply shoved Red into the villager just as they pried themselves free of the door.

“Sorry!” Red bowed before tearing off, “I’ll get you for this Blue!”

There, Purple thought, dusting his hands and laying back on his pillow, gets them out of my hair for a bit.

“Here’s everything!”

Blue dumped a bunch of potion ingredients. Given that Purple’s inventory was full, the items piled on him, floating, but the sound of her entrance shocked him out of his doze.

“Uh? Huh?” Purple blinked, looking around for the others. “How did you-?”

“I may have pulled some tricks on my opponents,” Blue said, rubbing her arm bashfully. “Honorably, of course!”

“Honorable trickery?” Purple said, eying each item. “That’s an oxymoron.”

“Look, if I happened to dare Red to tame a wild horse or ask Yellow what he would make with glowstone dust,” Blue said, “it’s not my fault they got distracted and wasted their time elsewhere.”

The sour mood eased as he smirked at Blue for her cunning. How unexpectedly sly! Maybe he was too quick to brush them off earlier.

“And what of Green?”

To that Blue paused, looking rather embarrassed. “I told him he forgot to grab ender pearls for the ingredient list,” she said.

“Lying?” Purple let out an exaggerated gasp of horror. “Color me shocked, I didn’t think that would qualify as an ‘honorable trick.’”

“Yeah, but-”

“I knew you were full of it!” Green snapped, appearing suddenly. He marched up, pointing a finger at Blue while looking heavily bruised, no doubt from his scraps with angry Endermen.

“What? I thought it was true!” Blue whistled.

“Bullcrap!” Green tossed his stuff down. “Purple, you can’t let this cheat get the win!”

“I dunno,” Purple said, “I didn’t give any rules on how you were to get it, just to get it.”

Green gave the most amusing irritated reaction. Purple needed to stifle the laughter bubbling in his throat. 

But then, Green’s shock turned to scrutiny, then into a smug smile.

“Well, she can’t win anyways,” Green said, pointing at the pile, “there’s no nethwart!”

“What?” Blue sifted through the pile and sure enough, no netherwart. “But I collected it- oh no!”

She gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth.

“What?” Purple asked.

Of all the things Blue said next, Purple wasn’t prepared for it.

“I ate it all!”

“You what?” Green shouted.

But Purple couldn’t speak, for he fell off his bed and onto the floor cackling.

=

Purple didn’t know how these four stick figures wormed their way into his life, but they managed to carve a space, bit by bit.

At first it was only a once a month visit. Sometimes, they bumped into each other while out in the Minecraft world; other times, they showed up randomly on Purple’s desktop. Then it became every two weeks. Then once a week.

Alana quickly caught wind of new stick figures visiting her desktop unannounced, and she was annoyed with Purple. She instated a rule that visits were to be strictly over the weekends and that they were not to touch her files. The gang were amenable to this and ended up visiting Saturday or Sunday to meet up, trade with the villagers, and play with Purple on the desktop.

One day, Purple was invited to visit the color gang’s computer. It was initially to judge some impromptu build completion, but ever since, Purple ended up visiting their desktop every Wednesday to hang out or play games. Windows was a different experience than Purple’s Mac. For one, their Animator, aka Alan Becker, was more present on the computer than Alana was, but he was fine with Purple visiting whenever he felt like. Sometimes he joined in their play, other times he just kept to himself and didn’t bother them much.

It took a long time for Purple to admit this to himself, but he was glad that he became friends with  Red, Blue, Green and Yellow.

That didn’t mean it was all sunshine and roses.

The four were hyper competitive and loved to fight. Way too much, in Purple’s opinion. They got up in arms over such little things. Even Blue, who opted for taking a peaceful approach when possible, was quick to join in a fray. Purple found himself either stomping out potential skirmishes or letting them tussle it out of their system. Purple wondered if Navy had met them, would he try to coax him to be more like his friends?

The thought of their similarities to Navy plagued him. It didn’t help that of the four, he and Green got into a lot of frequent clashes when they were out adventuring. Green seemed to be a de facto leader of the group, and haughty. Purple found Green the most vexing; some days he went along with Purple’s ideas, and other times Green wouldn’t stop nitpicking them.

And Purple learned the hard way that if Green was crossed enough, he would raise a sword against him.

They were in the middle of making a build, Purple and Green already started with an argument on either building a pagoda or a castle. When neither could settle the dispute, Blue suggested building on the castle on one side and the pagoda on the other. That worked for a bit, until Purple discovered that Green’s castle cut on his side where his pagoda should be. Purple tried to mine down the walls to make room, causing Green to come by to stop him. They argued and argued, only stopping when Green pointed his sword at Purple.

“Green! No!” Blue scolded, forcing Green’s arm down. Purple could see Green’s arm strain, glare not leaving Purple’s for a moment.

How that glare reminded him of Navy…

“That’s it, we’re done here,” Purple said, dropping his materials and marching away.

“Wait, where’re you going?” Red asked as Purple pushed past her.

“Home. And don’t bother coming this weekend or any other weekend after that,” Purple snapped.

“Wait- why?” Yellow balked.

The question, so simple and yet so stupid that Purple had to stop and look back at them.

“Why? You raise a sword at me and ask me why?” Purple yelled, “I’m not going to be friends with people who’ll raise a sword against me over a stupid build!”

The gang looked between him and the others in complete horror and shock. Green stared at his sword, slowly blinking as though it had only occurred to him what he had done.

“But… fighting is part of the game!” Red said. “I mean, we’ve fought with swords before, and you weren’t bothered by that?”

“I WAS bothered!” Purple said, “You have no idea how much it bothers me with how violent you all get! You guys are on the cusp of violence half the time, and it’s scary!”

Red, Blue, and Yellow exchanged an unreadable look. Then, Blue tentatively stepped up, hands clasped. 

“Why didn’t you let us know that it bothered you before?”

“It was obvious!” Purple snapped, stomping the ground. He deflated a bit when he saw Blue flinch back. “It was.”

There was a beat of silence before Blue continued. “We didn’t notice, honest! I know we’re easy to rile up, but if you told us that this bothered you so much we’d try harder to do better.” She rubbed her arm. “We probably could have avoided this if you had.”

“Plus, don’t let yourself off the hook,” Yellow added, “I mean, you kept riling up Green over this build instead of dropping it, and talking over him whenever he said anything.”

Purple rankled and pointed a finger at Yellow. “So? That doesn’t mean I deserve to have a sword pointed at me!”

“I’m not saying that,” Yellow said, raising his hands in defense. “I'm just being honest about how I feel- you dislike how we fight each other, and I dislike that you aren't clear about how you feel. It didn’t need to come to this point.”

“We’re your friends,” Red said, though with a questioning lift to her tone, “surely you should feel safe enough to tell us these things?”

No, I don’t, Purple thought, but he couldn’t get himself to say it out loud. He hated that, right now, he was proving them right. Hated that he always felt the need to clam up and hide his true feelings. Hated that he was being put on the spot. Hated how nervous and hurt they looked when he kept saying nothing.

He looked to Green, who had not said a word the entire time. Green stared down at his sword, muted and contemplating. When he looked up to see Purple’s gaze on him, he let out a nervous sigh and dropped the sword to the ground. The others turned to him upon hearing the clatter.

“Green?” Blue asked, but Green didn’t say anything. Very slowly he walked up to Purple, stopping only when Purple felt his foot move a step back.

“I’m sorry,” Green said, “I let my temper get the better of me. I shouldn’t have raised my sword at you over an argument over a build.”

Purple looked down at their feet. “You are aware that could have hurt me,” he said, quietly, “Killed me if you were careless.”

“I-” Green blanched, “No, I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I didn’t know our fighting bothered you that much.”

Purple looked down at Green. His eyes were hidden, and his normally confident stance subdued and ashamed. Whatever vindictive thought Purple had about leaving or telling him off vanished.

I don’t want to be like my mom, making excuses for Navy, Purple thought, but I’m not doing myself a favor in ditching them.

He should give them a second chance.

“And Green? I’m sorry too, for not explaining how I felt earlier,” Purple said, looking at Blue, Red, and Yellow too, “let me be honest now: I don’t want you to fight like that. Swords and TNT shouldn’t be drawn or thrown over something as trivial as builds. I don’t want to ever feel like I’m going to get hurt if I did something wrong.”

“We will work on that, starting right now,” Yellow stepped up, “No matter how difficult it is, we’ll do better! We won’t fight like that again.”

“Promise?” Purple asked.

Yellow nodded and Blue stepped up. “Yeah, we promise.”

“But you’ll need to give us grace,” Red said, “We like sparring, but we’ll spar only when it’s appropriate- not when we’re angry.”

“Well, a spar’s different than a fight,” Purple said, “I just… I’ve seen what fighting like that leads to, arguments and fists.” His head drifted down. “It hurts people more than you think.”

It was the closest to voicing his mother and father’s whole affair to them. He should tell them, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Then, can we still hang out?” Green asked. He blinked rapidly, and Purple saw tears forming.

Purple looked down at Green, acknowledging the hopeful look in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Purple nodded and opened his arms for a hug. “See you on Saturday.”

He wasn’t prepared to be ensnared in a group hug as the others joined Green in hugging them, but their embrace felt comforting if a bit tight.

I just hope I’m not repeating my mom’s mistake.

#occatorart #alan becker #animator vs animation #animator vs minecraft #second family au #ava purple #ava green #ava red #ava blue #ava yellow

[chronurgy]

Of the two versions we're given of Karlach's back story I strongly prefer the one we get in act one

(In act one she says that working for gortash allowed her to move her parents to a nicer neighborhood while in act 3 she says they were dead before she ever met him)

I just think there's a much more interesting and tragic story contained in the first version

It asks a lot more questions and those questions give karlach more depth - did she see? Did she know? Did she choose not to see anything? What was she willing to do, what was she required to do, in the name of keeping her aging parents safe?

It also could have resulted in some incredible moments when she returned to Baldur’s Gate after all that time away - reunion scenes with her parents in much reduced circumstances or finding out that one or both had died. Maybe they'd blame her, assuming she ran off and was lying. Maybe they'd welcome her home with open arms. Maybe they'd be doing just fine! Or worse, if gortash had stepped in to look after them, leaving them praising the generosity of the very man that sold her! It could work really well in bg3's examination of various types of abuse (And would play so well with Gortash's issues with his own parents). All of those possibilities (and more) could have lead to some FASCINATING character moments for karlach and I'm so sad we didn't get them.

There's just so much more potential in that storyline and I really wish larian had stuck with it!

#Now I desperately want to write that au actually #karlach #enver gortash #bg3 #I was SO interested to see what had become of karlach's parents when we got to Baldur’s Gate and SO disappointed when she found the graves #If they had died while she was in hell that would have been one thing! That would have been fascinating character moment to for her! #To watch her double down on vengeance and maybe even struggle with some irrational guilt for getting involved with him in the first place #But nope new backstory #And if they'd been alive! Even just one of them! So many possible options!

[miris-secret-files]

can we get a kakashi or naruto in enemies but we fuck bc im obsessed with you?? also if its possible a little of jealousy!

And I Hate You Too || Kakashi Hatake x fem!reader

A/n : At first I wanted to make it a hc but again I decided to make it a fic because I think it had potential

Warnings : enemies to lovers ( kinda ), erection, grinding, oral fem receiver, praising, riding, slight possessiveness, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 2295

Of course you have known the Copy Ninja for a long time now. You've been forced to deal with him on many occasions. First when he went to Sunagakure to carry messages to the Kazekage, but also on important missions for the interests of Konohagakure and Sunagakure.

On several occasions, the two of you even had to team up, and he was insufferable to say the least. His attitude, always laid back and deceptively relaxed, irritated you to no end. You, who were always very serious, couldn't stand to see him there, his nose buried in his book, as you walked through a forest reputed to be dangerous, towards a destination whose reputation was just as murky. And on the other hand, even if he wasn't doing anything wrong, there was this strange tension between you that made it even more unbearable.

“You could deign at least to be more careful when we walk,” you laughed, continuing to walk just as quickly through the forest.

However, he didn't answer you, pretending to be too engrossed in his reading to reply “Hatake, I'm talking to you,” you added in an exasperated tone, whipping your head towards you.

He chuckled under his mask “That's not funny !” you cut him off.

“I don't see why you mind me reading as long as I'm operative for the mission,” he replied before finally settling his gaze on yours for the first time that day. The air grew even tighter around you, the way he leaned towards you, his face only a few centimeters from yours “Unless you'd prefer me to look at you.”

“Enough !” you exclaimed, as a blush spread across your cheeks, you whipped your face away so he wouldn't see, though it was unsuccessful “This isn't the time for that ! Just concentrate on the mission !” you added frustrated. You walked ahead of him before adding under your breath "The sooner we finish, the sooner I won't have to put up with you anymore," at this point his mocking look was playing dangerously with your nerves, you just wanted to push him up against the nearest tree and make him lose his temper in the same way.

But he heard you “As if I wasn't the one who had to put up with you,” he said loud enough for you to hear.

“You better be kidding me !” your hand clenched and unclenched around your sword ( yeah I'm in my One Piece era ) with emotion. All you wanted to do was knock him out and leave him there. But you knew that no matter what you were going to say, he would know just how to push your buttons, either by answering as sharply as you, or by pretending to remain indifferent without ever answering you.

As you expected, he answered nothing, and the mission continued in deafening silence with an atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a knife. The mission was completed to perfection, as always, but once back in front of the Kazekage you couldn't help wishing you wouldn't have to see him again so soon, little did you know things were going to turn out differently.

~~

A few months later, the start of the Chūnin Selection Exams was announced at Konohagakure. Of course, you were one of the people sent by the Land of Fire to look after the children representing your nation. You were rather proud of your protégés, who had passed the first test with flying colors, but the dark side was here, in this dojo, during the face-to-face test. Let's just say that the ninjas of Hidden Leaf Village were, for the most part, of a much higher level than those back home.

There you were, hands on the railing, hip cocked back, your eyes riveted on the fighting going on above you. Your shouts of encouragement drew the attention of Kakashi, who was, not far away, once again immersed in one of his books. He turned his head at the encouragement, his only visible eye crinkling slightly as he observed the curve of your back. At that moment, a million ideas crossed his mind. He could already see himself reaching behind you, grabbing your hips and holding you close. But the thing he wanted most was to give you a good, hard spanking for all the times you had been bad-mouthed.

He couldn't resist taking a few silent steps in your direction, and of course you felt him coming up behind you. From his spot against the wall he continued to observe your curves, his jaw clenched as he felt the heat rise in his groin. He closed his book and put it in one of the pouches on his belt, his eyes alternating between the fighting and your silhouette.

“Come on, Ryota ! Keep it up, she won't last long !” you encouraged one of the youngsters in your village.

“It's not encouragement that's going to change anything, it's real training he should have had,” the man behind you couldn't help but add sharply.

But you ignored him - just the way he often did with you - and continued to support the young boy who was gradually being overwhelmed by the amount of blows inflicted by his opponent.

Soon enough he lost the fight and was gently placed on a stretcher. You jumped over the fence and landed onto the field to make sure he was all right, and once that was done you went into the changing rooms to fetch him the healing ointment made by one of his parents.

On your way through the gym corridors you passed Kakashi coming in the opposite direction, no doubt on his way to collect the belongings of one of his students as well. Couldn't bear to see his face today, you didn't hold back the shoulder hit you gave him as you passed next to him. Continuing on your way as if nothing had happened, you were surprised when suddenly, at the bend in a corridor, you were roughly slammed against the wall behind you.

“Y/n, Y/n,” he whispered against your temple, and that's when, strangely enough, you realized the difference in size “Why are you always so feisty ? Or is it just for me ?” he chuckled darkly against your skin.

You shivered at the sensation of his hot breath through his mask “Let go of me !” you tried to push him off you, but at the same time you were reveling in his touch.

“You're sure of that, it seems your body is telling me otherwise,” he adds in an over-confident tone, pushing his knee that was nestled between your thighs a little harder against your heating core “So what do we do-”

You didn't let him finish his question, in an instant you pushed him into the nearest changing room before slamming him against the door. He gasped at the force you had put into your movement. This time your body was pressed against his, and he could feel the delicious friction of your hips against his growing erection. His hands came to grip your hips tightly to prevent you from teasing him any further.

“Is there a problem, Ka-ka-shi ?” you pronounced his name syllable by syllable for the first time. A shiver ran through his body, as if it were a revelation. You felt his hands grip your hips a little more firmly and before you knew it, it was you who was now pinned to the door in turn. A click echoed through the room, amidst your heavy breathing as he locked the door. With a lightning-fast motion, he lowered his mask and brought his mouth close to your neck. You didn't even have time to notice as he began to kiss the delicate skin of your neck with his mouth open. Your hands gripped his hair, fingers running through his tangled locks before pulling him closer.

“You talk too much,” he replied in a hoarse voice.

“And you're overdressed,” you add, this time running away from the one who initiated the move to take off his shirt. He helped you and you could finally see his pale, scarred skin, whose muscles flexed with every movement.

“Oooh is that so ?” he bit his lip as you hooked your fingers into the hem of his pants, lowering them until his cock sprang free. He tilted his head back as another grunt escaped his lips as your hand began to jerk him off gently.

“You're so hard,” you muzed, feeling every vein and pulse of his member in your hand.

“Of course I am. Have you looked at yourself- mmh fuck,” he moaned as your tongue came to lick a drop of pre cum that glistened at the tip of his cock. With his hand he grabbed the back of his head to anchor himself in the present as your mouth worked divinely over him.

His hips began to respond to your ministrations as he thrusted deeper “You're not talking so much now- gnn huh Y/n... mphf” his words were interwoven with moans and sounds of pleasure “Way too busy sucking my cock.”

But at that moment you stood up, his cock throbbed at the loss of contact then you pushed him more delicately to lay him down on one of the locker room benches. You quickly got rid of your bottom before straddling his hips and impaling yourself on his waiting member.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, clenching your fists to his forearms.

His hands shot to your sides to hold you in place for a moment “Mmh good girl,” he knew that if you moved now he would cum right there and then “You're so tight-”

You wanted to push his buttons by undulating your hips but something told you that you would have other chances to do it to him in the future. So you waited until you were both used to each other before starting to move.

At that moment, if anyone walked into the dressing room, it wouldn't look like two rivals fucking, but two lovers making passionate love. Your head tilted back slightly, moving carefully over him, as he responded to each of your movements with a thrust of his own, causing his cock to slide gently in and out of you.

In a moment of confidence you reached for his mask, one of his hands caught yours before your eyes met. It had been years since he had decided to keep his face a secret, but right now he didn't know what had gotten into his head. You gently lowered his mask before leaning into him, your lips finally meeting in a fiery kiss, mingled with moans and breaths.

“I'm close,” you whispered against his lips, feeling your thighs beginning to tremble.

He held you a little closer “I'm right there too,” he replied before continuing to thrust, feeling your pussy tighten with each contraction that brought you closer to your orgasm. As you rode him your hips stuttered and finally you came, your body shuddering above his. That's all it took for him to feel the knot in his stomach burst. He gently pulled out where he jerked his cock a little before cumming, his seed pumped in long sticky white rope over his stomach and your lower belly. You fell back on top of him with fatigue and pleasure, he wrapped his arm around you, his fingers tracing patterns on your back.

“Remember that I hate you,” you whispered while peppering kisses on his chest.

“And I hate you too” he murmured, his lips pressing against your hairline. At this point you didn’t need words to express what you really both meant, your bodies did for you.

It was the first time for both of you, and far from the last. Your relationship at work, far from perfect, was much more relaxed. And as for the rest, let's just say that you see each other a lot more than before. Often at the end of a mission, before heading straight back to your village, the other would stay to spend a torrid night at the other's place. Even at events such as competitions or village days.

In truth, practically every time you met it ended up with him being buried deep inside you, or your mouth around his cock, or his tongue gliding over your glistening folds. His voice, hoarse with need, repeating you over and over again that you are his and no one else's. Even when you were away in each other's village but not paired together for the mission you would text each other - because yes he had given you his number and you had accepted - to find out when he could see you to fuck.

Let's just say that the numerous hickeys on your neck were still a real mystery to your friends back home in Sunagakure, because to them and everyone Kakashi and you were still enemies. Several times during your vacation you had sent him texts, asking him when he was free because you were on vacation and 2 days later - and this time right on time - you would see him on your doorstep, ready to fuck you for the weekend.

All in all, that famous Chūnin Selection Exams had been the beginning of a relationship between you and Kakashi that was far more powerful than you ever thought it could be. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his body against yours, and he was obsessed with the way his name slipped off your tongue when you moaned it. So far so good, and maybe soon you will tell him you decided he could come inside you if he pleased. Something was telling you he would be far from indifferent at this idea.

#naruto #naruto imagine #naruto xreader #naruto smut #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden imagine #naruto shippuden smut #naruto shippuden x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake imagine #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #request #smut #miri's files

[theresattrpgforthat]

Yo, I am under the impression there’s a flourishing market for “campaign supplement” games that can be played as like slice of life side-bars to another campaign? My play group just finished an Ebberon campaign but we still love these characters and I’m wondering what’s out there? I’m curious for whatever but stuff with a focus on settling down or running your new dukedom would be lovely.

THEME: Fantasy After-Campaign Games.

Hello there! Yes, there are a number of games that you can probably use to keep your characters around and explore other parts of their life! I've got a few games that might be somewhere in the realm of what you're thinking, and then I've got some other ideas that popped up in my brain as I was writing this out.

Peace in the Land, by JunkyardTornado.

Peace in the Land is a cozy one page fantasy ttrpg about solving some regular kinds of problems in a fantasy town. There is a very simple character creation process based off a simple system, the Quick and Dirty System, originally designed for one-page rpgs. 

If you want low-stakes problems and quick rules, you might want to check out Peace in the Land. The rules are pretty standard, with a typical success threshold and differently-sized dice according to player abilities. You can probably place the simple rules into a setting that you’re already familiar with, and then generate problems that the townspeople might turn to the player characters to solve. If the group wants to settle down in one location but still go on minor adventures, this might be a game for you.

Pour One Out For Her, by MrPluckyComicRelief.

She was the greatest hero the world had ever seen. She slayed the Beast of Artenfield, rescued every princess north of the Green River, outgambled the demon Jav-Urok The Bold, and she never paid for a drink. All those years ago, all of you stood by her side, as her faithful companions. You supported her through thick and thin, through triumph and tragedy. You thought she would live forever.

But in a cruel twist of fate, you’re all here, standing at her funeral. For her last great prank, she stated, in her last will and testament, that you would all give a joint eulogy.

Pour One Out For Her is a gm-less RPG for any number of players. It's about good times with old friends, reckless adventures, and a celebration of a the greatest hero to ever live, who was taken too soon.

This is more of a one-shot kind of game for a solemn, last goodbye to a character that didn’t make it. Because it’s GM-less, if you traditionally had a GM in the game, this might be a chance for them to embody an important NPC who saw the characters through the bulk of the story.

Pour One Out For Her assumes that the dead companion had a dying wish, and that the companion was a team-player. Apart from that, I think you could use it to remember the ending of a character that meant a lot to the party.

Stewpot: Tales From A Fantasy Tavern, by Takuma Okada.

The adventurer’s life is tough. It's time to call it quits. For years you stumbled through hostile lands, living off stale rations, and struggling to get a few hours’ sleep. Now it’s time to hang up your weapons, sell off your armor, and settle down. If only it were that easy…

Stewpot: Tales from a Fantasy Tavern by Takuma Okada is a collection of cozy mini-games that tell the story of a tavern run by former adventurers. Gather your dice, pick up a deck of cards, set aside a shiny coin, and get ready for a new set of challenges. Only this time… your adventures start behind the bar.

Stewpot is divided into a series of slice-of-life scenes, with a different set of simple rules and prompts helping adjudicate each scene. You might be scrambling to cook something edible with random ingredients, bartending for troubled souls, calming down a tavern brawl, going shopping for all the things a tavern needs, and more! Work to upgrade your tavern's cuisine, atmosphere, and service. In the process, you might just learn a little bit about yourself - and your fellow party members.

Takuma Okada is known for a number of thoughtful games, including Alone Among the Stars, a solo roleplaying game of introspection in space. Stewpot looks to deliver a cozy, retrospective experience, probably similar to Dungeon Meshi and Legends & Lattes. Stewpot recently finished funding on Backerkit, so if you’re willing to wait for a little bit, you should be able to order a copy of it from Evil Hat’s website! If you’re not willing to wait, there’s a Sampler PDF available on DriveThruRPG.

Wolves & Spices, by A.Tian.

Wolves & Spices is a simple tabletop roleplaying game, based on the traveling mercantile adventures of the light novel/anime series Spice & Wolf.

You are traveling merchants in the medieval country of Feldland. Your shared dream is to earn enough money and goodwill to open a business as a permanent part of a community.

You could use Wolves & Spices if you feel like your characters wouldn’t necessarily settle down in one place, but rather would be more likely to turn to trade as a way to earn their keep while still travelling from town to town. Your goals will probably be more focused around meeting other people’s needs, using your earnings to help meet your heart’s desires (also called your Wolves). If you want a game where the quest didn’t bring about the happy ending your characters hoped for, you might want to try out Wolves & Spices.

Some Other Thoughts

Another way you could possibly re-visit your character’s stories is to re-visit them in a different genre or setting. There’s a lot of possibilities if you’re up to remixing a game or two! For example, you could re-cast your characters as fantasy investigators, such as in Swords of the Serpentine, or follow their attempts at romance, such as in Passion of the Jukebox or Thirsty Sword Lesbians. You could also follow up with the adventures of your characters’ children; my group followed up our Spectaculars game with a game of MASKS, playing as the children of our characters. Games like Kids on Bikes or Kids and Spirits could also work if you want to combine solving mysteries with passing adventure down a generation!

Games You Can Also Check Out

Merchants & Monsters, by AndieSanade.

Dungeon Mart, by May Day.

So, the Beast is Dead, by Prepared Heathen.

Back Again, from the Broken Land, by Cloven Pine Games.

The Laughing Kobold, by therabidbanana.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg #after-campaigns

[beanghostprincess]

Do you ever think about the fact that like, we know NOTHING about buggy? Yes of course we all know the devil fruit thing and how he was on Rogers crew, but the sheer amount we DONT know? Insane.

1 How the frick did he get on rogers crew?? Did roger kidnap the poor the kid? Did buggy just stowaway or something? Roger wouldnt take on anybody so there has to be a reason.

2 No one else looks like buggy except maybe vivi. Is buggy some long forgotten race? Is he actually royalty but their whole race was wiped out? Is it just a genetic mutation? I NEED ANSWERS ODA

3 WHO ARE HIS FAMILY?! Who are his parents or if he has siblings or cousins??? Did they disown him or did he runaway????

4 This is a personal preference but there is NO WAY buggy is as dumb as he plays. You can’t be that stupid and still be a successful captain/businessman/leader/yonko. Whatchu hiding buggy???

5 Where did the circus act come from? When he was on rogers ship there was no circusy makeup or any mention of things related to the circus, the only thing we have about that is that buggy wore bright clothes, but ROGER wore bright clothes. So did he join a circus after he and shanks broke up?? Is there a backstory there??

6 Last one I promise. Does anyone else think it’s a little strange that there are only two people in the series that wear clown makeup and one of them has nothing to do with the circus? Rosinante and buggy have extremely similar makeup, did they know eachother? Rosinante had no reason to wear clown makeup except maybe as a disguise, what the heck was that about???

7 Okok, last one last one. Did Oda say who he based buggy on? We know that almost every character in one piece is based on someone in real life or a myth. But we don’t know who buggy, an OG of the story, is based on. Little strange don’t you think? Oda?? HMMMM?

Mmm, I agree with you in the fact that we actually lack A LOT of information about Buggy's story (and also Shanks', but that's wayyy more plausible to be told in more detail than Buggy's) and I wish we knew more about where he comes from. But I think I can answer some stuff you mentioned!!!

4. Buggy is not playing dumb in any moment. He is directly not dumb at all and he has been shown countless times being of the most strategic characters in the manga. The one thing that holds him back is not being confident in himself because he still keeps the burden of living under Shanks' shadow on his shoulders so he often acts cowardly and seemingly without any goal at all but to survive. After chapter 1082, though, I think we will see wayyy more of him acting like a boss and following his dream and showing his true abilities. It's not that he's playing dumb, it's that he doesn't let himself be brave and now that he's on the same level as Shanks, he can do whatever he wants (if Mihawk and Crocodile let him lmao). And the reason why so many people follow him despite Buggy constantly saying he doesn't want to be seen this way because he sees himself as a loser who keeps pretending to be great, it's just that he's... Great. He just doesn't see it but he has an inherent effect on people when he gets serious. Being a failguy doesn't make you any less of a genius.

5/6. Actually, I believe we won't really get an answer to that. Perhaps we do if we get another flashback but maybe it's just character design and that's pretty much it. There must be something about wearing clown makeup as a mask of their true personality and yadda yadda yadda but that's for another day.

And about Buggy's past and the theory about him being a Nefertari: It's a pretty good theory and I actually really like it, keeping in mind how much influence both Buggy and Vivi's family are having lately in the manga. But I am not really sure about that being true and I am not even sure either if we we'll get any Buggy flashback at all. So I guess we will just have to wait and see what Oda does!!!

#buggy is one of my favorite characters can you telllll #but idk if we will get a proper flashback idk if i should be more optimistic #i wouldn't be THAT angry if we don't tbh buggy's past is not something i'm that interested in bc i believe he considers roger to be his dad #and that's kind of it. really. like if he doesn't live in the past i don't really care. #shanks on the other hand i would like to know more but that's only bc he's like. extremely crucial for the story #but at the end of the day they go hand in hand right?? so if we get shanks flashback we'll get buggy's #now i am not actually worried at all about this ekfbewkbew #buggy my beloved #buggy the clown #one piece #ask-bean!

[bettyfrommars]

Call From a Payphone at the End of the World

Eddie Munson x Reader

18+ONLY, mention of smut, yearning, gender neutral reader but a few pet names are used, alcohol consumption, no Vecna, new crush, star-crossed lovers, strange things happen. Reader and Eddie are over 21.

word count: 1.6k

This a mix of several fic ideas that all blended together somehow. One being a road trip fic where Eddie falls for an older reader that I hope to finish one day, plus something for the Stranger Prompts list. Several of the prompts are used in this, but I wanted to keep them a secret. I wouldn't say this is a hurt/no comfort fic, but there will be a hint of that. It is a hopeful, star-crossed lovers story at its core.

------

After Eddie pumped a few bucks worth of gas into the tank, he couldn’t get across the parking lot to the payphone fast enough.  He was sure his heart would explode if he couldn’t talk to you again; the few hours of highway already felt like an eternity. 

After punching the metal keypad, he secured a hand over his heart, waiting.  Just after the second ring, there you were with that voice he’d come to adore with every fiber of his being.

“Hey you,” his smile was so big it made his cheeks hurt. “It’s Eddie. Wanted to check in, you know, make sure you made it home okay.”

At the other end, butterflies exploded in your stomach.  “Hey there stranger,” you ached to reach out and hold him.  “I was hoping it would be you.”

He played with the metal cord attaching the receiver to the phone box, tucking his chin so that his next words were mumbled.  “What would you say if I told you I missed you already?”

He felt as if he no longer existed in this reality, as if time and space and whatever the hell else didn’t matter as long as he was connected to you somehow, as long as you were real.  The words kept bubbling up in his chest, and if he didn’t let them out and tell you how he felt, he might suffocate.  

You put down the stack of mail you were holding and sat on the nearby chair to calm your buzzing head.  “I’d say you got it bad for me, Munson.”

“I think you might be onto something there,” he chuckled, turning his head to make sure no one from the isolated gas station was lurking nearby.  “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“I wish we could do more than that,” you said, grinning. 

“Glad I’m not the only one,” he pinched the front of his Megadeth shirt and brought it to his nose. “I’m never gonna wash this shirt ever again, just so you know.  It smells like you.”

“I almost kept it,” you started to doodle spirals on the pad in front of you with a red pen. 

“I would’ve let you,” he smirked, remembering the way you straddled him in nothing but that shirt in the back of his van for one final quickie before parting ways.  The feeling of being inside of you, that sense of completion and connection, would be his main masturbation fodder for the foreseeable future.  

Holy shit, he was crazy about you.

Having such intense feelings for someone after barely 24 hours of knowing them was not reasonable, he knew that, but he also didn’t care.  

He’d been on his way home from visiting his friend Ronnie when the storm hit, and some of the roads were blocked off due to flooding.  The rain crashed down all night, lightning cracked the sky, and all he could think of as your bodies writhed tangled and sweaty, was that he could die a happy man.  

He called Gareth that night, told him he wouldn’t make it to practice, and decided to slink into a dark bar for a beer.  There you were, looking all sorts of futuristic and out of place.  You had a device in your hand that resembled something out of Star Trek, but you said it didn’t work, that it was “dead” and you couldn’t find your “charger”.  You fascinated the fuck out of him.  He asked if you were an alien, and without missing a beat, you responded, “would that be a problem?”

Not at all, sweetheart.  Not. At. All.

“I kinda want to get in my car and race back to you,” you spoke softly.

Eddie tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Man, that’s all I could think about the whole way was turning around. I feel like I left my heart on the road back there.”

“I’ll keep it safe,” you whispered, making his entire body shiver with longing.

“When can I see you again? I mean, when do you think…should I come to you or—”

The automatic operator’s voice cut him off, asking him to deposit 25 cents.

“Are you calling me from a payphone?” You sounded astonished.  “I didn’t even know those things existed anymore.”

“They’re all over the place, sweetheart,” he huffed, distracted with searching his denim pockets for change.  “Not all of us have strange little pocket calculator things we speak into.”

“I love an old school man.”

Hearing the word “love” roll off your tongue in relation to him made him want to reach out and take you in his arms so bad he could scream.  

“Hey, I left all my change in the van, this is going to cut me off, but I’ll call you when I get home, yeah?”

“Please do, I don’t care how late it is.”

“Okay I will, and also—”

But then the line went dead.

You pulled your iPhone away from your cheek and stared at the screen with a sad frown.  You hoped that one day he’d let you bring him up to speed with the age of technology.  Until then, you found it charming as fuck that he didn’t own a cellphone, and loved to act oblivious to anything involving computers. 

You had your cell charging on the countertop when one of your friends texted you a few minutes later, demanding the details of the mystery man who’d swept you off your feet in some dive bar out in the boonies.  

Usually, you avoided one night stands at all costs.  You had to care very deeply about someone in order to be intimate with them, and for some reason, you felt bonded to Eddie after the first hour.  It was thrilling, but also scary and uncomfortable all at once. 

“What happened to the dude you were supposed to meet there?” Your friend Tina asked.  “The one from the dating app?”

“Oh, he never showed,” you chuckled, thinking that you’d totally forgotten why you’d driven almost two hours away to another town in the first place. “But it was for the best.  If he hadn’t ghosted, I never would have met Eddie.”

“What was the name of the bar again?” She asked after you dished all of the details on your new crush.

“Wait, I think I have one of their matchbooks in my bag—” you dug around, finally holding it out in front of you.  “I guess it’s called The Upside Down? Never heard of it before, but the address was correct, I’m sure of it. My GPS was acting weird, so who knows.”

The bar hadn’t been updated since the 70’s, it seemed.  Wood paneling, sticky tables, peanut shells on the floor, and one of those vintage jukeboxes that played nothing but oldies.  Eddie remarked that it reminded him a lot of one of the bars he did gigs at with his band.

Corroded Coffin, you doodled the name down, reminding yourself to google it later. Eddie said he wasn’t on social media, and pretended not to know what it even was.  Just one more quirk of his that charmed you to death and made you smile to yourself.

You fell asleep on the couch that night with the phone on your chest, and woke up the next morning with a kink in your neck and a dry mouth.

Nothing from Eddie, not even a missed call.  

Maybe he got in late and didn’t want to wake you.  It was almost 9:00 in the morning when you tried the number he’d given you for his uncle’s place.  

The number had been disconnected or was no longer in service.  

Panic swelling in your throat, you scrolled back to the number of the payphone he’d called you from. 

Also not in service.

Glassy eyed, you sat up and stared at the wall for a long time.

Soon after, you wiped away frustrated tears and got on the internet to search.

“That can’t be right,” you whispered at the screen, looking at a photo of Corroded Coffin at a bar called The Hideout in 1985.  Eddie Munson, graduate of Hawkins High in 1986.

You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

Zooming in on the few photos you found, you couldn’t help but notice the insane similarities between your Eddie, and 1980’s Eddie.  The one you knew was maybe a few years older, but that was definitely him.

Could it be a relative? No.

All of the odd conversations you’d had that night began to click together.  Had his perplexity with the idea of you carrying a phone been legit? You figured he was just being silly.  

There wasn’t much you could find about him, but one final news snippet caught your eye:

“....Hawkins native and Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson has not been seen or heard from since the fall of ‘89 after leaving a cryptic note for his uncle, Wayne Munson.  “He had a bunch of letters he wanted me to pass out to his friends,” Wayne explained. “He said he hoped that he would be able to come back to Hawkins, but he wasn’t sure how it all “worked”. That he loved me, but he had to go and find someone.”

You gulped, tears rolling hot down your cheeks.

“He went back,” you sniffed, choking on a sob. “He went back to find me, he…”

You trailed off, looking up at the clock, and then over to your car keys on the table.

What if Eddie circled back to find you and you weren’t there? What if that bar you’d met at never even existed?

But Eddie, he was real, and he was coming for you.

You left a note too, texted Tina, and then you were on the road again.

Pedal to the metal into the gathering storm.  

—-

Thank you for reading, I love you.

#stranger prompts #stranger things fanfiction #Eddie Munson #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson smut #twilight zone inspired

[compressedrage]

*barges in* Your Hollow Head Siblings hc's, hand 'em over!!!! 🔫

(But fr, gotta love your thoughs, they're neat and scratch my brain juuuust right!!!)

YOU HAVE OPENED THE FLOOD GATES MY ANONYMOUS FRIEND

Keep in mind I am very tired rn so this will likely be very unpolished okay here we go–

The order of age goes Victim Chosen Dark Orange, we all know this, but I think for a long time Dark thought he and Chosen were a lot closer in age than they actually were. Chosen had to warm up to telling Dark about all the horrible things he went through, and that included the fact that he was alone for four years. (it's four years right? it might be five. I can't be bothered to look it up rn, its fine)

In between the Showdown and Wanted Orange is starting to think of Chosen as an older brother. He connected the dots to figure out that Chosen was also made by Alan and he saved them! He's so cool! This idea was only a little bit shattered when this older brother figure barged into the PC and kidnapped him and promptly got them both captured. But honestly what are older siblings for.

In canon Chosen does not let himself feel emotions enough for him to see Orange as a little brother, but the connection is there. He'll come around :)

SPEAKING OF CONNECTIONS– I recently had this idea that the Hollowheads had some sort of empathy-telepathy with each other. For example, one normal day out in the Outernet Chosen feels the exact moment Orange was created. He doesn't know what that feeling meant, and he never felt it again. Orange felt drawn to this new stick figure who saved their lives, and immediately follows him through the portal. Chosen felt something snap in his chest the moment Dark died. Orange and Victim lock eyes for a moment in the Box and feel something click. None of them talk about it, but it's there.

(that last one might qualify as an AU, who knows maybe I'll do something with it)

This one is more of a wish than a headcanon– Chosen takes Orange under his wing at some point, teaching him how to use his powers as best he can. However, since Orange's powers are rather different from Chosen's, it just results in a chaotic sparring session and setting a field on fire. The CG are not amused by the amount of bruises Orange gets, but Orange is having an absolute blast.

Orange is Chosen's "Second Coming"– surely that comes with consequences. I saw a hc where they shared portions of code and I liked that; something like Orange and Chosen have similar tastes in foods. Their eyes shine the same way when they smile. Sometimes they accidentally speak in unison because they each had the exact same thought. When stuff gets serious, they both narrow their eyes and make an expression that promises pain on their enemies.

Dark would be the best big brother and let me tell you why. Orange is often left with the Braincell of the CG. Have you seen how stressed this boy gets. He gets premonitions of his friends getting hurt. Dark allows him to mess around a bit more, in a "We might get in trouble, isn't that fun!!" kind of way. Orange has always had a chaotic streak, it just takes certain circumstances for him to tap into it. They would be able to get Red back for his pranking.

Orange would teach Chosen and Dark all about modern video games. They know video games, sure, they destroyed Angry Birds. But I think playing Minecraft would solve both of their problems. At least a lot of them.

I don't have many headcanons for Victim, I just haven't seen enough of him to get a solid enough foundation to make headcanons, but as an oldest child I can relate to him on a spiritual level. He may be gray now but with those three as younger siblings he's gonna get a whole lot grayer.

Gosh I love them so much, a house with all four Hollowheads would be the most chaotic house ever. Victim– the eldest with an actual job, no nonsense, the less-than-respected Holder of the Braincell. Since he is out of the house a lot because of Job, the responsibility falls to Chosen– older middle child, delinquent, failure of a cook and the only one Dark will listen to. Speaking of Dark– younger middle child, Chaos Incarnate, fellow delinquent and Escape Artist Extraordinaire, he is a terrible influence on the youngest– Orange. Orange is the black sheep of the family in that he is actually rather emotionally stable. He's in school, has friends, hobbies– his brothers just a bit jealous but supportive anyway. He also helps Dark prank the others; he's got great aim with water balloon catapults.

I cannot impress upon you enough how much they love each other. Their lives have been filled with isolation, suffering, rejection– but now they've found family in likewise people. None of them are alone anymore. Sure, Orange wasn't really alone to begin with, but surely he noticed how different he was from RYGB. He's not replacing them, not for a million dollars, but it is nice to have brothers who are similar to you.

#WOOO this was long! #I love these dorks so so much #this was fun #I really should write some more for them they have so much potential #if there are typos in this I will get to them in the morning #*tosses this at anon and falls back into bed* #alan becker #animator vs animation #rage's ramblings about sticks #thanks for the ask btw #it was a lot of fun <3

[specialinterestshows]

Watch your metamour’s title match in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow.

(Yes, I am aware I already have a fic by this title. No, I do not care.)

Warnings for this section: Social anxiety, manipulation/gaslighting, parasocial relationships, dubcon ass-slapping, cannabis (weed) mention

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 74 of ?): Locker Room Talk

After watching Dominik do stretches and warmups, talking about anything that came to mind to make him (and yourself) feel more at ease, and listening to the Judgment Day and JD give him pep talks, you were wishing Dom good luck and sitting in full view of the locker room television. There were a few other wrestlers milling around, but they were either otherwise occupied or avoiding you. Because of whatever people say about your girlfriend? Because of what the media is saying about you? Because you aren’t part of the show, despite being in the locker room?

You tried to put the thought out of your mind as the match began on the screen in front of you.

There was just enough time for you to see Rhea on the sidelines, before Trick Williams rapidly gained the upper hand with a few blows. The two men grappled before Dom got a kick in and you quickly found yourself invested in a way you hadn’t been before. There was something about the match that began beautifully, like a dance, almost. The rhythm and movement enthralled you in the moments between pauses, to the point where you were gasping in awe and chuckling in wonder instead of cheering. Maybe you hadn’t experienced the sport like this before because the only matches you had been interested in watching had been Rhea’s. Your mind went directly into the gutter when you saw her fighting, especially with the way she pinned her opponents.

And now? Strangely enough, you were beginning to understand why someone might risk fame for the chance at doing something like this.

You were watching the screen so intently, the sudden appearance of Jacy Jayne in your vision made you jump.

“My girl and I just won,” she sneered, leaning in to grab her bag from the locker next to you before whispering, “How about you and yours?”

Glancing at the screen again, trying to ignore her at first, you smiled at what was happening.

“See for yourself,” you told her, gesturing to the television just in time to make her turn to watch the Judgment Day celebrating and running up to Dom before the replay reel. Your heart swelled with happiness watching your girlfriend cheer and throw an arm around her boyfriend.

“Hey, what’re we watching?” Jacy’s excitable tag team partner from earlier bounced into the locker room, holding a freshly-filled water bottle. Noticing you, she didn’t even wait for an answer before saying, “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Thea” - she reached out and shook your hand vigorously - “Are you new to NXT?”

Jacy scoffed.

“That’s just Rhea Ripley’s newest little toy,” she told Thea, who now seemed uncertain how to act toward you and settled for imitating her tag team partner’s current pose - arms crossed, leaning away slightly.

“Doesn’t even realize she’s being played,” Jacy continued, “It’s pathetic. You want to know what everyone says about Rhea?” - she was addressing you now - “She’s only nice to the people she uses. Minion, distraction, press stunt - you’re at least one of those. You’ll be old news soon enough.”

The screen - now showing Dom holding the title and all four members of the Judgment Day with their arms around each other - came back into full view as the two women walked away, passing a slightly breathless JD McDonagh in the doorway. Something about Jacy’s comment seemed very specific. It was difficult to know exactly why, until you watched her and Thea depart.

“Come on, sexy,” Jacy said as she held the door open, giving Thea’s ass a hungry look before smacking it, “I’m going to show you how grown-ass women celebrate a win together.”

The last you saw of Thea, she was glancing back at you, looking conflicted as Jacy’s arm snaked around her waist.

“Hello?” it wasn’t until JD waved his hand in front of you that you realized he had been trying to talk to you this entire time, “Are you okay?”

“Jacy is awful,” you groaned, trying to ignore the fact that you were second-guessing yourself thanks to her comments, “Doesn’t anyone realize what she’s doing?”

“Shit, did she try to rough you up?” JD asked, giving you a quick once-over for signs of blood or swelling.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you tell him, despite the uneasiness at your core, “I mean, she wasn’t nice… but someone needs to get her away from Thea.”

“HR won’t intervene unless she says she wants to get away from her partner,” JD said, “Besides, that’s not our job; we’re focused on making sure the Judgment Day remains the most dominant faction in the WWE.”

“We’re also focused on keeping Rhea’s girl safe,” Damian huffed, glaring at JD as Rhea, Dom, and Finn walked in behind him, “Y no hables como eres parte de nuestro grupo.”

“Go easy on him, babe,” Finn said softly, putting a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, “He’s helped a lot today” - Finn lowered his voice, lust dripping in every word - “Think of how good it’s going to be when we celebrate later, just the two of us.”

JD looked slightly uncomfortable at this particular method of persuading Damian to go easy on him, but wasn’t about to complain when Damian’s attention shifted to Finn instead.

“Principe mío,” he muttered, caressing Finn’s face and leaning in to whisper something none of you could hear. JD sat down by the door, awkwardly waiting for the group’s next move as your girlfriend and metamour approached you.

“So, did you see Dom’s big win?” Rhea asked, sitting down next to you and putting an arm around your shoulders.

“I did! Congrats on getting your title back,” you said, addressing Dom as he strutted toward the two of you with his title belt over one shoulder.

“How did you want to celebrate, babe?” Rhea asked him as he sat down on the other side of her.

He considered the question for a moment as you let the weight on your shoulders relax you a bit. Unfortunately, the situation with Jacy and Thea seemed to have left an uncalmable anxiety in your stomach, slightly different from what you had been feeling for the majority of today. You needed a joint.

“Can we get some munchies and go smoke?” Dom seemed to be asking you as much as Rhea, knowing you were the only one with a supply.

“You actually read my mind,” you laugh.

“Let’s do it,” your girlfriend agreed, giving both of you a kiss on the cheek before standing, turning, and putting out both of her hands to pull the both of you up at once.

“Next thing you know, she’ll be bench-pressing them,” Damian jokes, “Go ahead, I’ll spot you.”

“How about you bring the car around instead?” Rhea responded, rolling her eyes despite having initially smiled at the comment, “We’re going on a snack run.”

[end part seventy-four of ?]

-

Tag list (thank you!)

@littlemiss-fanficlover , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence , @riverina69 , @itsrheasgirl , @1-800-sinister

#wwe fanfiction #rhea ripley #the judgment day #rhea ripley x reader #dominik mysterio #rhea ripley x dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #finn balor #finn balor x damian priest #damian priest #jd mcdonagh #the judgement day #jacy jayne #thea hail #jacy jayne x thea hail #lady!reader #specialinterestshows presents #absolute smokeshow

[copper-16]

For those lovely people who read Do You See Something I Can’t?…Chapter 8 will be posted tomorrow (June 2nd), at 1pm EST!

We’ve got 5 chapters, 57k words in total, and a schedule (because I am nothing without my schedule!) Since the chapters are a little on the longer side, I want to give everyone ample time to fully read. So, the plan is that there will be a new chapter every 3 days, so the whole thing will be posted over the span of a little over 2 weeks. 

I totally understand how it can be hard to follow a story when there are long gaps in between chapter being posted, so I hope this is easier to follow along and engage with, by writing everything ahead and posting in a streamline manner. We shall see if this makes it better for you guys as readers, I’m curious as to your feedback! Regardless I want people to enjoy reading it, and if that happens then I am a happy camper, above all else. 

Spotify Playlist for the second half can be found here!

For everyone who is still reading this long ass announcement and have gotten themselves all caught up if they wish, here is the first part of Chapter 8 before it is posted tomorrow 🩵

Ingrid stared down at her phone, shifting nervously in her seat. Mapi sat across from her, the Spaniard’s hands folded on the table in front of her, as she watched the Norwegian closely. 

The dark haired woman sat up more, swallowing roughly. There were a million thoughts going through her head, and she looked up at the brunette with a slightly panicked expression. 

“What if I just went back?” Ingrid asked in a panic, and Mapi tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“Do you actually want to? Or are you simply scared to make this call?” She asked gently, and the full back allowed herself to slouch slightly under the intensity of her—girlfriend? Friend? Person who professed their love to her less than 12 hours ago, and hasn’t had time to put a label on it yet? 

She allows herself to slouch slightly under the intensity of her…of her…of Mapi’s gaze, feeling a bubble of shame rise up in her. The Spaniard is quick to stand, walking around the table to take a seat next to Ingrid as opposed to across from her. 

“I am not asking to make you feel bad,” Mapi reminds gently, gesturing to the phone. “But I know you do not want to go back there, and that you are scared to put your foot down. You need to though, and I promise you will get through it. I will be right here,” she continued, and Ingrid looked over at her skeptically. 

It was such a strange jump, the last twelve hours. Ingrid had returned to Barcelona to pack up her apartment to move, and had almost finished doing just that. There were boxes littered everywhere in her apartment, a fact that Mapi had yet to comment on. 

Instead, they remained where they were at the table as the sun rose in the sky, and Ingrid worked up the courage to call her manager back and explain that she was not going back to Wolfsburg. 

The Norwegian picked her phone up finally, pressing the contact for her manager before she held it up to her ear. Her foot tapped anxiously below her, a reminder of the anxiety coursing through her body even as Mapi sat beside her, looking at her with encouragement. 

“Hello Ingrid!” Thomas said cheerfully into the phone, and Ingrid opened her mouth to speak before she coughed abruptly, which kick started her into speaking.

“H-hi Thomas!” She replied, her voice thready and nervous, an octave too high. If her plan had been to play it cool, she would have been failing miserably. Luckily, her only goal was to get through the phone call in one piece. 

“Is everything alright?” Thomas asked quickly, concern laced into her tone. 

“Yes, yes, everything is okay. I just need to talk to you about something,” Ingrid choked out, even as she felt like her throat might close up. Her free hand lashed out, clamping down on the center back’s thigh with a forcefield of anxiety. 

The brunette, however, didn’t miss a beat, simply peeling the Norwegian’s hand away from her thigh and lacing their fingers together, squeezing softly. Ingrid gripped her hand tightly, and the Spaniard could feel the shake of the full back’s hand in hers. 

“Okay, what did you need to discuss?” Thomas asked, sounding diplomatic. Ingrid took a large breath in, slowly letting it out before responding. 

“I am going to stay at Barcelona. I will not be accepting Wolfsburg’s offer,” The dark haired woman managed to get out, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt. Mapi’s thumb was very lightly trailing back and forth over the back of her palm, and she reminded herself very gently to relax her shoulders. 

“You—what?” Her agent spluttered out, clearly caught off guard. 

“I want to stay here, in Barcelona. Tell Wolfsburg I reject,” Ingrid repeated, her voice more secure this time. 

“Ingrid, you would be insane to reject their offer! It is one of the most lucrative deals I’ve had come across my desk for a female footballer, you’d be in the top 5% of paid female footballers. Hell, you’ve already told them you’d accept!” Thomas implored, his voice edging on panic. 

He had promised Wolfsburg that this deal would go through, that Ingrid would accept. She had always listened to him, she had always been easily manipulated when necessary. 

“I gave them a verbal agreement, but no contract was signed. I don’t…I don’t care about the money. Get me more brand deals or something, I want to stay in Barcelona,” Ingrid repeated, standing up for herself as Mapi watched on, growing more nervous as the conversation continued. She couldn’t hear what Ingrid’s manager was saying, but she could tell that he wasn’t responding with a super positive tone. 

“Ingrid, as your manager, I cannot let you do this. You need to get your head on straight,” Thomas replied harshly, and the full back straightened, her nerves washed away and replaced with something akin to anger. 

“My head is perfectly straight,” if it were not for the seriousness of the situation, both women might have laughed at the falseness of this statement, considering the Norwegian’s sexuality. “I am staying in Barcelona.” 

“You’ve told Wolfsburg you’d be there!” Thomas cried, though it wasn’t really true. She had agreed to the deal, sure, but she had never signed anything. She wasn’t obligated to them, she only was because Thomas had tried to make her obligated to them because he knew it would earn himself more money.

“No, you told Wolfsburg I would be there. And why the hell are you pressuring me so heavily? You are supposed to be on my side, not theirs!” Ingrid accused, and Mapi resisted the urge to flinch at the return of the woman she had become acutely used to in the last six months. 

“I am on your side, it’s just that—” Thomas tried, but the dark haired woman was quick to cut him off before he could really even begin. 

“No, you’re not, if you’re trying this hard to push me into something I clearly do not want. I’m staying, that is the end of the discussion!” Ingrid cried, removing the phone from her ear and slamming her finger down onto the ‘end call’ button. 

The Norwegian’s phone clattered onto the table as she breathed heavily, a fraught silence descending between them. 

The brunette was holding her breath, unsure of what was going to happen. Ingrid had been upset on the phone, she had been angry. 

Would it translate into anger toward Mapi? That is how it had always been, but the Spaniard wasn’t sure if that would persist or not. She knew Ingrid was capable of change, but she was unsure if something as triggering as this could lead to anything resembling softness. 

What’s going to happen? Well…you’ll have to tune in to find out! 

#copper 16 asks #ingrid engen #mapi leon