#I did my best to cover a lot while still being brief but I have no idea how not to be obnoxiously wordy lol

[mothwingwritings]

Yooo i missed your posts so much so glad your back can’t wait for the taiju chap <3

TY darling!!! I am trucking along-the chap is basically written, now I just have to get through the finishing up part and editing. I MAY have underestimated how much more I wanted to add on to it which is why it isn't posted yet and I apologize for that. :( Thank you all for your patience, I know how obnoxious it is to be told a date and then still have to wait, but I promise it's coming soon!

And Happy late Halloween!

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal. 

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work. 

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that. 

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift. 

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips. 

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look. 

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.” 

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.” 

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss. 

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.” 

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?” 

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments. 

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.” 

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?” 

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.” 

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes. 

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now. 

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious. 

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.” 

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-” 

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest. 

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!” 

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-” 

“That literally doesn’t-” 

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis. 

He sighs wearily. “Your point?” 

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests. 

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?” 

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-” 

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!” 

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-” 

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.” 

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open. 

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his. 

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves. 

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers. 

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again. 

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset. 

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you. 

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it. 

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

~

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?” 

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.” 

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.” 

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens. 

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.” 

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit. 

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars. 

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.” 

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.” 

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth. 

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it. 

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile. 

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted. 

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven)

taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[buckys-little-belle]

Chapter One - The Blue Crayon 

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SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW. 

Warnings - Reader cries, first meeting jitters, brief talks of Bucky’s ‘old life’, mainly fluff 

Word Count - 1,836

Note - Releasing this is really scary, and nerve wracking. I'm worried people will hate my new writing style, or won't enjoy the slight changes to the plot/pace/overall creation. Please know that this means a lot to me, and has really given me back a piece of me I thought I lost. Enjoy, and I hope you love this as much as I do <3

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★ Prologue ★ 

After years of feeling out of place no matter where he went, and feeling like he didn’t belong no matter what he did to fit in, Bucky took a trip to a Cafe he remembered from his old days in Brooklyn. 

The interior looked the same as it had decades ago, the soft blue and green diner furniture was in pristine shape. The metal of the counter looked slightly more scratched and worn, but the whole place had the same feel it did when he first walked in years ago. 

While most cafes offered the same types of coffee and treats, none of them were anything like Cafe BigNSmall. Instead of being on a busy street open to just anyone, it was hidden away from prying eyes on a calm street, and was catered towards Littles and Caregivers. 

It was founded before Bucky was even born, a group of people looking for a place to meet up comfortably, but also create a safe space for other Littles and Caregivers that might also be in need of a community. 

Bucky had stumbled his way into a conversation years ago about Littles and Caregivers, at first he didn’t understand what the conversation was about, but after asking a few questions and being given the address to the hardly known, yet also famous, cafe his whole idea around the topic changed. And after a few visits with his best friend by his side the two of them realised that the community they had accidentally found was one they fit perfectly into. 

Bucky half expected the well hidden cafe to be gone, or at least moved to a different location after all these years, but as he walked along the familiar sidewalk and stopped in front of the building he used to visit weekly, a warm feeling spread along his chest. The feeling of finally finding someplace he knew, and some place that knew him, was the best feeling he had felt in a while. 

Even the ding of the welcome bell was the same, the coffee just as good as he remembered it, and the crunch of the leather covered diner booth sounded just as he had remembered it. 

The feeling of sitting at a table alone though was new, his days spent here were always spent with Steve and other people they had met along the way. But now he sat in his favourite booth with a bag full of activities, and a heart in need of a purpose. He realised that even though the building had stayed the same, he hadn’t. 

Weeks went by as he watched groups of Littles and Caregivers sit around tables and talk, colour, and laugh. He understood why people avoided him, if they knew who he was they had reason to walk away, and even if they didn’t know him as ‘The Winter Soldier” he was still dressed head to toe in black, stood at times a foot above everyone else, and always had an easily read as angry expression plastered on his face. 

It had been a month before anyone talked to him, and although he wished that he could have felt included sooner, he was happy that Y/n was the first person he met, even if it took weeks of waiting. 

. ★ . ✪ . ★ .  ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .  ✪ . ★ . 

The sun was shining brightly through the wall of windows, Bucky’s booth drowning in light, the small plant that sat with a basket full of sugar and cream was no doubt enjoying the nice weather. 

Bucky’s coat sat next to him, his phone buzzing from time to time though he ignored it. Instead of calling Steve back, or making sure Sam didn’t need something he surveyed the room, making sure all exits were secure, and danger wasn’t present. 

He, in a way, had given up the idea that he would meet a Little, or even a friend, but decided that in the absence of someone he would spend his time as - unwanted, and unneeded, as well as unofficial - security for those who spent their days here with friends. 

As his eyes drifted to make sure his car parked on a side street was still in tack he heard a small shuffle next to him, then a small voice spoke. “Um, Mr?” He turned his head to see a girl with tear marks down her face staring at him. Her green shirt’s sleeves covered in wiped tears, her overalls slightly off her one shoulder. 

Bucky just stared at her for a second, waiting for her to fizzle away and reveal herself as a dream, or run in fear when she saw his face, but she didn’t. “Hi.” He cleared his throat, trying his best to put on a neutral tone and facial expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked, shuffling in his seat slightly, his nerves evident. 

“My, um.” Her left hand covered in her sleeve came back up to her face, rubbing her eye before she continued. “My crayon broke.” The girls lower lip wobbled now, bringing up what must have happened clearly causing her distress. “The nice cash lady said you, you migh’ have some crayons?” Her voiced lowered to a whisper now. 

Bucky smiled, the warmth he felt when he first stepped inside a month ago finally coming back. His backpack was filled with Little friendly activities and supplies for this reason exactly. “I do.” He answered, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his carton of 96 crayons. “What colour do you need, Bub?” The nickname slipped out on accident, but the girl in front of him didn’t seem to notice, too awe struck by the box of crayons in front of him. 

She sniffled before answering. “I need blue.” She said with a little more confidence. “Hold on.” She whispered, jogging back to what Bucky assumed was her table. “This one, please.” She pulled out two halves of a blue crayon from her box. Her crayon box was smaller than Bucky’s, only a handful of crayons inside, unlike his though her’s had a small sticker on it that read “Y/n.” 

“Y/n?” He asked, the girl snapping her head to him, her eyes wide. Bucky tapped the sticker on her box, Y/n flipping it over and realising how he now knew her name. “There’s too many blue crayons in this box to know what one you want.” He said, hoping it didn’t come off mean or like he was showing off his ‘better’ supplies. “Why don’t you take the box back to your table and use any of the crayons I have for the day.” He offers, hoping that his generosity could help earn Y/n’s trust over time. 

“Can I jus’ sit here?” Y/n asked, her hands fiddling with the box in her hands. 

“You want to sit here?” Bucky parrots her words back to her, hardly believing that she would want to sit with him. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay.” Her lower lip began to wobble again as she took a step back. “Unless, I’m sorry, I can go.” She said quickly, clearly taking Bucky’s surprise as anger. 

“You can sit here.” Bucky’s words were also spoken quickly, worried if he didn’t say anything right away she would run from him. “No one’s wanted to sit with me yet, I’m just surprised.” Y/n nodded her head and put her small box down on the table before walking back to hers. 

In a minute she had gathered all her things and made her way back to Bucky, her backpack now sitting on the other seat. “You sure that I can sit here?” Bucky noticed her slight change in speech, a clear sign of further regression. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” He smiled, Y/n sitting down but still holding her colouring book to her chest, her back straight as a pin. “I’m glad you came over.” He says in hopes to reassure her he wants her here. “It’s nice to have a friend.” Y/n smiles at that, placing her book down, showing a half done colouring page. 

“I agree, bein’ lonely is sad.” She frowns. “Do you wanna colour with me?” Her tone is hopeful, looking at Bucky with a smile. 

“I’d love to.” He smiled back, pushing his coffee to the side and accepting the page Y/n tore out for him. The two of them colouring their respective pages in silence for an hour before Y/n sat up straight with the biggest smile Bucky had seen so far. 

“Done!” She practically yelled. Bucky had been done for a while now, adding his own doodles around the actual lines of the drawing. “Look.” She slides the book towards him, a coloured picture of a princess and her wildlife friends surrounding her staring back up at him. 

“This is really good, Bub.” Bucky coos, surprised at her ability to stay mainly in the lines of the original lines. 

“You can keep it.” She quickly squiggles something on the bottom, Bucky assuming it’s her form of a signature. 

“Thank y-” His words are cut off by the shrill of an alarm, Y/n digging her phone out of her backpack to turn it off, frowning as she places the phone on the table. 

“I have to go home now.” She frowns as she starts to pack up her bag, pausing to turn to Bucky. “Will you, can you.” She stumbles over her words. “Are you coming here tomorrow?” She eventually asks, her eyes avoiding Bucky’s. 

“Are you?” He counter asks. 

“Yes.” 

“Then I’ll be here tomorrow.” She smiles and finally looks at him. 

Y/n spends a few more minutes packing up her things before she stands. “Thank you Mr.” She holds her hand out for a handshake, Bucky’s back straightening as he realises he’ll have to shake her hand with his left. Instead of doing so he grabs her left hand with his right and shakes that one, her giggles worth the awkward situation. “Bye Mr.” She says, turning to leave, but Bucky keeps a hold of her hand. 

“Why don’t you keep these?” He says, pushing the box of crayons closer to her near the edge of the table. 

“Borrow them?” She asks. 

“No, I want you to keep them.” He nudges them her way a little more. “I think you’ll get much more use out of them than I ever would.” He smiles as he watches her’s grow bigger. Picking them up she does a little jump, her backpack jingling as she does. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She spins before whispering a ‘thank you’. 

Before Bucky could say goodbye, or ask for her phone number, she had already walked out of the building, walking down the sidewalk looking at the box of crayons in awe. The broken blue crayon still sat on the table, he smiled, picking it up and placing it in his pocket. The small thing a reminder of the best day he’s had in a long time. 

[fenrislorsrai]

The Crow Road

I did in fact read The Crow Road because of Good Omens and it was very meandering with a lot of character study. For a thing summarized as "trying to solve a mystery from papers left behind" it was very uninterested in doing so. It didn't even introduce them for first 100 pages, then didn't refer to them for another 100, then LOST THEM ON THE TRAIN. The book itself is mostly a distraction from solving actual mystery. In no way would I classify this as being Mystery, as in the genre. This is a family saga/coming of age thing. I did enjoy it, but if you're expecting a genre fiction thing, you will hate it.

ANYWAY.

Then we get to the last 20 pages or so of the book and OH MY FUCKING GOD

the rest of this is going under a cut for anyone who actually wants to read The Crow Road themself, but for everyone else, this is directly relevant to the end of season 2, episode 6 AND is NSFW

Toward end of book, MC Prentice figures out "oh, maybe I am actually in love with my best friend, Ash, I should tell here". Oh shit, she's taking a job and moving to Canada! FUCK. Well telling her now is not gonna do anything good here, I blew it.

Ash meanwhile comes to stay with him in his rented place before having to fly out in the morning. The place is tied up in an estate dispute. It has an enormous four poster bed in a room covered in naked paintings of Venus. And mirrors. Pointed at the bed.

They go out for dinner and have a conversation of who owes who for dinner and decide its neither. They walk around a little bit reminiscing about when they were in school. Prentice had once broken her nose with a snowball and thought she didn't know. She says she forgave him right away. It also turns out she knew he was using morse code to tap out rude things at their French teacher.

They get back to the house and she says she's going to turn in early. Goes to give him a kiss on cheek. WHich then turns into kissing. and grabbing ass. They head to the bedroom of Fucking to do just that.

have a couple round and then while tangled up doing effectively some cockwarming, Ash does a little rhymic squeezing via morse code to spell out I-L-U and he does some cock moving to spell out I-L-U-T she still gets up in morning to leave, tehre's that brief, but what if I convince you to stay??? and they basically both agree "no, this is a breakup for work." Ash goes off to do her work contract, Prentice is going to finish his degree and sell the Bentley he just inherited. The split is not forever.

I did not have love confession via morse code while fucking on my bingo card AT ALL.

But good god, that ending there and the kiss there at the end of season2. OH RIGHT, THEY BOTH HAVE DONE SPY STUFF!!! What the fuck are Aziraphale's hands doing? are they frenching with morse code? IF THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[gloryy-vs]

i’m so glad that you’re taking requests bcause your writing is scrumptious 😮‍💨🫶 i love it! ik you’ll do this request more than justice.

if it’s alright with you, could you do some neteyam x omatikaya!reader? basically, they’ve been friends ever since they were little kids. they would always hold hands, hug each other, and would sometimes even kiss each other’s cheek and it was all innocent. but ever since neteyam successfully finished iknimaya and y/n gave him a celebratory kiss on the cheek, he starts seeing her differently. he starts to avoid her bcause he feels different about her, and he doesn’t know how to explain it. y/n thinks that the reason he ignores her is bcause he’s busy with his duties as the future olo’eyktan so she tries her best to not mind it. neteyam sees that y/n is doing ‘fine’ without his company and it drives him crazy. one day it gets too much after seeing y/n almost spend the entire day with tarsem and not even spare a glance at neteyam, so he confronts her and she hugs instinctively since it used to always calm him down, and that’s when he confesses 💗 whether you write this or not, i’m still excited to see more of your content argh, lots of love xoxo

|| AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH. Literally wrote one drabble and y’all makin me kick my feet n shii 🤭 I GOTCHU. not proof read so please spare me!

characters: neteyam x omatikaya!reader

rating: SFW , angsty , fluff , jealous neteyam , oblivious reader

||

During his ceremony you couldn’t help but smile cheesily, so proud of your dearest friend for coming and training so hard for this long. Especially with how his father can be, very demanding but in a loving way. Ever since you were two were young, he was always amazing at hunting, combat and being a brave warrior. Now he’s really made it. As the ceremony wrapped up, the Na’vi circling around Neteyam chanted, welcoming their upcoming Olo’eyktan. The easier way to describe a ceremony like this was a ‘coming of age’ event. There you were, by his side with your tail swishing in joy.

He stepped down, bowing his head in respect to the people around him, making his way to you. You beat him to it, basically punching in his arms as he picked you up, his arm muscles tensing and becoming more visible.

“You did it Teyam! I’m proud of you.” You said, giving his a big kiss on the cheek as a congrats. Pulling back, you gave him a big smile, your eye creasing towards the ends from how exicted you were. At first glance you couldn’t tell who’s ceremony it was from how happy you both were.

Then there was a cold shift, Neteyam gently unwrapped his arms from around your waist and let you feet touch the ground. He looked you in the eye, before getting lost in them, and lost in the feeling washing over him. His face contorted, like he was confused. Looking at you again with those big amber eyes, he smiled curtly. “Thank you, but I expect my dad to really push me. Til I break basically.” He said, playing the end off as a joke.

Covering your mouth while you giggled, your sentence was interrupted before it even started, by Jake and Neytiri waving their son over to speak with a desperate group. Neteyam turned to you and sighed, bowing his head down in annoyance. You understood though. Or at least you thought you did as he walked away without saying anything. Your ears flattened for a brief moment before you realized it may have been due to his new upcoming responsibility.

..

Days turned into weeks and Neteyam hasn’t said a word to you. That was an exaggeration. Few words were exchanged but you two haven’t had a good conversation in a while. Ever since that ceremony, he’s always been around his father, or training with some of the clans strongest warriors. That’s what you thought. You sat atop a tree, lost in your confusing thoughts. Lying is easy, but lying to yourself is the hardest. You cant convince yourself that it doesn’t hurt, you definitely have strong feelings for Neteyam, and wish to support him. Being alone is taking a toll on you especially since you two grew up attached to the hip. You didn’t want to get in his way, it would be better to distract yourself.

Making your way back to the clans new home, Tarsem waved you over graciously. He was a strong hunter and warrior, a very loyal one at that. “Ay, we brought in fresh meat from a hunt today, come and eat before it is gone.” He said with a thick accent, basically pulling you over to the rationed food. You were pretty hungry, so you crouched down, finding a spot for yourself in the circle. Tarsem crouched beside you. He grabbed a thick, hearty leaf and placed sturmbeest meat atop of it along with some other delicacies. He handed it over to you with a nod.

“Eat, eat. You must eat to be strong.” He said encouragingly, gripping your shoulders innocently and grabbing a share for himself. You two began to engage in conversation, eating while doing so. What you failed to notice was a pair of eyes staring right into your soul. He was angry, but more so with himself. Neteyam knew he was avoiding you due to his feelings. How would he confess? You two grew up together, giving each other kisses yet that one kiss after the ceremony made his heart ache for you. It wasnt fair to you, and now for him to be jealous. He scowled, stuffing his face with the last of the hunted meal and tossing the leaf to the ground in front of him. Neytiri glanced down at her son, following where his eyes were trained on. She knew very well about the connection you two had, and often spoke to Jake about it. It was a connection blessed by Eywa.

Neytiri nudged her son, catching his attention before nudging him towards you nonchalantly. Neteyam sighed, rubbing his face in his hands anxiously before standing up. He cracked his knuckles, a nervous tic of his. He walked around the circle making his way behind you, seeing your shoulders shake from innocent laughter in the conversation before he gently touched your shoulder. You whipped your head around, wiping your mouth before making eye contact. “Teyam? What is it?” Tarsem turned away, not minding the interruption.

“Come with me. I…need to talk to you.” He said. You found it off that he just now wished to speak to you, was he finally pushing you away? Telling you that the friendship was over? Getting up, you followed your best friend outside and as he turned around, he wrapped his arms tightly around you. “You won’t even look at me? What was that about? We grow up together, yet you can’t-.” You stopped him, pulling your bodies close together. Neteyam stopped, his breathing slowing down again. He didn’t even realize he got so upset. Though he realized it was a bit hypocritical. “I’m sorry. It’s just, it’s not your fault. I cant even be mad. My feelings for you grew to be more than I thought they could be…”

Your tail represented how happy you really were, swaying around quickly. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and you spoke timidly, “I thought you were mad at me, or just busy with training.” He immediately let go, grabbing your shoulders but keeping you close to his face. “I could never be mad at you. Ever since that kiss at the ceremony, I just felt differently about you. You were the biggest supporter I had, more than a best friend. It all hit me at once.” He said, his eyes baring into yours.

You cupped his face. “What are you trying to say? Tell me it’s what I think it is..” You said while looking at his lips, then meeting his eyes. He repeated the action, noticing how close you two have gotten in a matter of minutes. Neteyam closed the space, pressing his soft lips against yours and refusing to break away until he needed a breath.

You slipped away first, “Tell me Teyam..” You whispered, giving him another kiss and smiling into it.

“I’m saying I love you. Oel ngati kameie..” He said, brushing the hair from your face gently. A smile spread across your face.

“I see you, Neteyam.” You uttered the words, caressing his face before you two shared another kiss.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Fight Me, Love Me, Save Me Pt. 2

This will fill the Broken Promises square on my @jacklesversebingo card.

Summary: A series in three parts exploring Y/N's and Dean's relationship from bickering children, to love and broken promises, to a plea for salvation.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Some light smut. Mostly just making out. Kissing, fondling, etc. Some angst, lots of fighting, cause it's them. Also brief scene involving threatening behavior from a creep. Nothing explicit.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 4,398

A/N: So this series will fill the last three squares on my bingo card. This part covers "It's Mine, and you can't have it." Part two will cover Broken Promises, (Nov 12) and part three will be for the Isolated/Trapped square. (Nov 19)

I hope you enjoy!! If you do, please remember to like, reblog and/or comment. Means the world to us writers! ❤️

Read Part 1 Here

The dividers included here were created by @talesmaniac89

The first year of dating for Dean and Y/N was a rollercoaster. For the first month or so, they tiptoed around each other. They knew their relationship had obviously changed but they weren’t sure about the parameters of what it was now. So, they were both extra polite to each other, terrified that they were gonna ruin this new thing, and possibly everything that came before it. Y/N didn’t want to finally realize Dean was her best friend one day, only to lose him completely the next.

So they circled around each other, sniffing at the air for warning signs. Their first fight came about a month and a half in. 

They were living in Omaha, Nebraska for the time being. It was fairly centralized and their dads were using it as a bit of a home base for a while. Y/N was hoping she’d be lucky and they’d stay until she graduated so she wouldn’t have to change schools one more time. 

They were renting an apartment together, and it was a nice change from motels and life on the road, but the apartment was tiny. It was only a one bedroom, and they’d turned that bedroom into a kind of weapons/training room. So they all slept in cots on the floor in the living room. It wasn’t ideal, but it still felt more like a home than a motel did.

One evening, Y/N was studying late at the library, determined to graduate on time and with a good GPA, regardless of her constantly revolving education. So, she’d deserted the noisy apartment and headed for some peace and quiet. John and her dad had been arguing about an old hunt, and Sam and Dean had discovered a bunch of old board games, deserted in the hallway closet. They’d found Jenga and had started out playing the game as it was intended to be played, which was loud enough. But it quickly devolved into them simply smashing down everything the other one built and then fighting about it.

She’d called out her intention to go to the library a few blocks down, and had been greeted by four male grunts in response. 

Sometimes being the only female of the group was frustrating. 

After a couple of hours at the library, Y/N was satisfied she had a handle on her history essay, and packed up to leave. As she put her things into her backpack, she noticed an older guy, maybe in his early fifties, in a hoodie and heavy canvas jacket watching her. It was slightly unnerving, but she just added him to the list of pervy dudes she’d encountered in her life, and left the library. 

As she walked outside she saw that it had begun snowing, and it was much darker than she’d expected; she still wasn’t used to the darker days of early winter. As she walked, she pulled her thin, inadequate jacket tighter, and crossed her arms. There was something a little eerie, about the gray-black sky and the snow-muffled sounds around her.

She picked up her pace.

When she was about a block away from home, she heard the snow crunch behind her and suddenly the pervy guy was standing beside her. She jumped and yelped and the guy just laughed.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, honey. You should be careful wandering off places on your own though.” He grinned yellow teeth at her. “Someone as pretty as you could give folks ideas.”

Her fear of this man angered her and her ornery nature spoke before she could think better of it. “Oh really,” she scoffed, “and just what would those ‘folks’ be thinking?”

He didn’t like her attitude, and he scowled. His voice was low and definitely threatening as he leaned closer to her, invading her personal space and making her curl her lip in disgust.

“They could be thinking you were out here alone, lookin’ for trouble. Maybe hintin’ to folks you’re after a good time.”

Y/N felt her heart start to race as the silence and alone-ness of her situation hit her and she realized just how vulnerable she was. She started running through all of her training, just where to kick, just what vulnerable spots to target.

But thankfully, after one more lingering scan of her body, the man decided to move on, leaving her shivering, but not even noticing the cold anymore.

She double-timed it back to the apartment and ran through the door, locking it quickly behind herself. She jumped when Dean spoke.

“There you are.” He said as he approached. When she jumped and spun to face him, he held his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Whoa, easy there sweetheart.” 

He saw her fear and quickly closed the distance between them, grabbing hold of her upper arms. “What happened?”

Y/N shook her head, feeling silly now for letting one old creepy guy scare her so badly. “No, nothing.” She said, looking around at the empty room. “Where is everyone else?”

Dean waved a hand dismissively. “They just left on a burger run. But it’s clearly not nothing. You flew in here like a bat outta hell, and you’re terrified.” He said with a frown. 

Y/N stepped out his hands and shook her head again. “Seriously, it’s fine.” When Dean just folded his arms and continued to stare at her, she shrugged. “Look, it wasn’t anything, okay? Just - a creepy guy got a little close and gave me the jeebs, okay?”

Predictably Dean’s jaw tensed and he immediately reached for his jacket. “What does he look like?” He said as he shrugged it on. Y/N marched up to him and yanked the jacket back down his arms. 

“You are not going out there after him.” Dean wrestled his jacket away from her and started putting it back on. “Dean, listen to me. What the hell is the plan here? Even if you could find him, which you won’t, what are you going to say to him?”

Dean scowled down at her. “I’m not gonna SAY anything. I think a bloody nose will speak volumes.”

Y/N rushed to stand between him and the door. “Don’t be ridiculous. He didn’t do anything to me.”

Dean scoffed. “You came in here terrified, Y/N. Now that doesn’t happen because of nothing.”

Y/N shook her head. “Look, it was just stupid of me okay? I panicked. He was just being gross, and he said that…” She waved away the memory of his predatory look. “I overreacted.”

Dean’s voice was dark and deadly. “Bullshit. You don’t overreact about stuff like this. This guy was obviously trash.” When Y/N shrugged her acquiescence, Dean sighed and then frowned at her again. “What the hell were you doing walking around in the dark, alone, anyway? What were you thinking? You should’ve called me to come pick you up.”

Y/N felt her hackles rise at his scolding tone. “I didn’t need you to pick me up, it’s like four blocks away.”

“Well, obviously you did, because some creep came after you.”

Y/N gritted her teeth. “And that’s my fault now?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying it’s your fault the guy’s a creep, but you should’ve known better than to walk home alone in the dark.”

“Screw you, Winchester!” Y/N exploded, all her pent up fear and adrenaline rushing forth. “I should be able to walk four fucking blocks without some disgusting mouth breather thinking he can come after me, thinking he has the right to…to…and then to tell me ‘people were gonna get ideas’ about me? Is that what this is, Dean? Does me having the audacity to walk four blocks without a goddamn escort make you believe I’m game for anything? That it must mean I wanna be thrown down for a roll in the snow?”

She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed. Tears started to fall and she dashed them away instantly. Nothing frustrated her more than the fact that anger and fury made her cry.

Dean was staring at her, looking a little shell-shocked. She stomped past him and slammed herself into the bathroom. She didn’t come out until she heard everyone else get back. She and Dean didn’t talk over supper; if anyone noticed their silence, they never mentioned it.

Hours later Y/N was laying in the dark listening to the men around her snoring and she sighed and stood up, walking carefully through the narrow path of cots. She threw on her jacket and shoes and stepped outside. She needed fresh air.

She wasn’t outside very long when Dean stepped outside to join her. He didn’t say anything, just breathed into his hands in an attempt to warm them up.

Y/N shot a look his way. “You out here to make sure I have a suitable chaperone?”

Dean sighed and then reached for her hand; she let him take it. He nodded his head sideways. “Come on, let’s warm up.” He tugged her towards the Impala and she followed.

Dean slipped into the front seat to turn on the car, running the heater and putting the radio on low, but then he climbed into the back seat, beckoning Y/N to join him. She slid into the seat, but sat apart from him, slightly rigid. She felt awkward and unsure. They’d fought - what happened now?

Dean was silent for a while too, until he finally let out a little puff of air and a laugh, shaking his head.

Y/N looked at him warily. “What’s so funny?”

Dean shrugged, and shot her a heart melting smile. “I’ve never apologized to you after fighting with you, I kind of don’t know how. In the past we never apologized for pissing each other off, we just scowled at each other for a few hours and then got burgers.”

Y/N couldn’t help a small smile. “I mean, I could eat.”

Dean laughed again, and pulled her close to him as the tension between them dissolved away. “I really am sorry though, sweetheart. I never meant to make it seem like I thought it was your fault some jackass acted like a pig towards you. I just…” He hesitated before continuing. “Well, I panicked a bit at the idea of you being alone and vulnerable. But, you’re right, doesn’t mean you need a bodyguard. Hell, I know you could have kicked his ass.”

Y/N smiled up at him, but her voice was a little shaky. “Maybe, but you’re right too. In that moment I felt really vulnerable. In spite of all my training, in spite of everything, he really scared me.” She snuggled herself deeper into Dean’s side and he held her tighter. “And that made me really angry, which I sort of took out on you. Sorry.”

Dean shrugged, jostling her slightly. “Nah, I deserved it.”

She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against his warm chest. They stayed like that for a long time, just savoring the happiness of making it through their first fight intact. They didn’t realize (but probably should have) that it was going to be the first fight of many.

Both Y/N and Dean were incredibly stubborn, with quick tempers, and strong emotions. That often led to arguments, which sometimes led to all out fights.

One of the things they fought about was what Y/N was going to do after she graduated. She was up in the air about her next move, and Dean was horrified by the idea of her living across the country, and going about her life every day without him, and far worse was the idea of him having to live every day without her. He tried to get that across to her but it never came out right, and she always accused him of trying to tell her what to do with her life, trying to hold her down.

They had a few knock down, drag out fights over that subject, before Y/N made the decision to wait on college at least for now. She wasn’t really sure what she wanted to do with her life anyway, so for now at least, she was a hunter. But she wasn't sure if that was what she wanted forever. Their fathers made it seem as though that was their only choice, and she knew Dean believed that, but she and Sam weren't so sure. 

For the time being though, she was satisfied to keep traveling and hunting, spending all her free time with Dean, fighting and making up. 

The making up was worth the fights.

For the most part, Sam and their dads stayed clear of them when they were in battle mode. They’d all been thrown for a loop when they found out Dean and Y/N were dating. When they told their dads, at first the two men weren’t thrilled. But eventually they settled for telling them to just make sure not to let it affect the team. 

But poor Sam on the other hand, found out about them in a much more visceral way - by walking in on them, locked in a heated embrace, in the motel room one day, only a few days after they started dating. 

"What the hell?" Sam exclaimed loudly as Dean and Y/N leapt apart. Sam's face wore a look of deep disgust. 

Dean grinned and shrugged, pulling a blushing Y/N back into his arms. 

"Sorry, little brother, but it's true. Y/N couldn't resist me any longer."

Sam made a retching noise, and Y/N elbowed Dean in the ribs. "Sorry if it's weird, Sam, we probably should have told you."

Sam's expression was still disbelieving and slightly horrified but he shrugged slowly.

"Whatever. Just…" He held up a hand and his voice was pleading. "Never make out around me. Please! And for God's sake, learn to lock a door."

"What good would that do?" Dean called after him as he walked away. "You have a key!"

***

They celebrated their one year anniversary the fall after Y/N graduated. Dean took her out to a nice dinner. He had to wear a jacket and tie, and he fidgeted in it all evening, but he wanted to spoil Y/N a bit, so he just dealt with it.

After dinner though, he chucked his suit jacket in the backseat, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves before climbing behind the wheel and taking them for a long drive. They listened to music and Y/N even forced Dean to sit through a few of the sappy love songs she’d put together on a mixed tape. He scowled the whole time, but he held her hand and pulled her closer to him on the seat.

Finally, not long before midnight, he pulled down a deserted road and then off the road into an abandoned field. He put the car in park and cut the engine, leaving the radio playing softly in the background.

Y/N shot him a knowing smile and her voice was coy when she spoke. “And what, pray tell, are we doing here?”

Dean shrugged and put on an innocent face. “Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking maybe we could, uh…play some games…twenty questions? I spy?”

Y/N stifled her laugh to nod solemnly. “Right. Okay, I’ll start. I spy…a big fat liar.”

Dean grabbed his chest as though mortally wounded. “Ugh! I spy my very injured heart.”

Y/N laughed softly. “That’s really not the way you play the game.”

Dean dropped his hands from his broken heart and turned towards her. “No? K, then twenty questions.” He picked up her hand and stroked his thumb across her knuckles. His emerald green gaze bore into hers and she felt butterflies start fluttering in her lower belly. 

His voice was low, and rich, and smooth as he asked, “What am I thinking about right now?”

Y/N felt her cheeks flame as she read his intentions, plain as day, in the heated look that spread across his face.

She laughed breathlessly and corrected him. “That’s not how you play that game either. You’re supposed to pick a person, place or thing, and then I have to guess it.”

Dean nodded. “Ah, I see.” He responded, as though this was all new information. “Okay, then I pick person. Guess WHO I'm thinking about right now.”

Y/N bit her lip and closed an eye as though she was thinking hard. “Hmm…is she…bigger than a breadbox?” She asked and grinned.

“Barely.” Dean answered with a chuckle, just before he lifted her easily into his lap, making her gasp in surprise.

She settled herself on his thighs, wiggling against him and eliciting a groan from Dean. She knew the cause of it and grinned devilishly. She asked her next question as she played with his tie. “Do I know her?”

“Hmph.” Dean grunted. “The answer to that is very philosophical.” 

Y/N looked up at him through her lashes. “It has to be yes or no answers.”

“20 Questions is no fun. Let's go back to I Spy.” Dean said as he began trailing his thumb across Y/N's bottom lip. “I spy, a pair of lips I really wanna kiss.”

He brushed his lips across hers like a breath. She sighed and chuckled. “You really suck at these games.” Her gaze was mischievous as Dean looked into her eyes. 

He shrugged and plunged his hand into her hair. “Fine, I give up. I lose.” He said before covering her mouth with his, sucking the breath from her body. 

He pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. “Wow.” Y/N said breathlessly. “You letting me win, that's a first.”

Dean grinned. “Well, I think we both win, actually.” His grin faded into something softer, and he shifted away from her and lowered his thick lashes, hiding his bright green orbs from view

“And I think maybe…this might be a night to talk about…firsts.”

They were both silent a moment before Dean looked back at her. His gaze was earnest and he was quick to reassure her. 

“I'm not saying we have to do anything or…anything. Just…we should probably talk about it.” He bit his lip and shot her a worried look. “I mean, dontcha think?”

Y/N thought of how far they'd gone recently, spurned on by incredible heat and passion, and an endless need to get closer, ever closer to each other. But they always stopped themselves, pulling away from each other with extreme difficulty.

She nodded at Dean; yes, they should definitely talk about it. 

Yet both of them stayed quiet. Finally Y/N just reached up and kissed him again, pushing her fingers through his short hair to grasp the back of his head and press him tighter against her. 

He licked her lips open and she whimpered slightly. They traded breaths, and tasted each other thoroughly. Dean's hand slid up from her waist to slide under her blouse and trace along the top of her bra. He moved his mouth down the column of her throat and Y/N leaned back to give him easier access.

When she did so, however, her back bumped into the horn, making them both jump and then start laughing. Y/N buried her face in Dean's neck and tried to catch her breath.

Dean pulled her hand up and kissed her palm. “Maybe we should continue this conversation in the back seat?”

Y/N nodded shyly. 

She slid off of his lap and then followed him outside as he opened the back door. He went to the trunk and before they got in, he laid down a soft wool blanket that's smelled just a bit like metal and car oil. 

Dean scooted all the way over to lean against the passenger side door, pulling Y/N back into his lap.

After a minute he cleared his throat. “K, before we go get distracted again, we're gonna talk, yeah?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes, talk.” There was a beat pause. “I think we should have sex.”

Dean's eyes widened at the blunt suggestion. “Like…now?” He asked, his words a little strangled.

Y/N laughed. “Yes, now. Given how rarely we're alone together, if we don't do it now, we may have to wait another entire year.”

Dean chuckled but looked hesitant. “Y/N I don't want you to feel like we're on some kind of schedule here. I mean -” 

Y/N interrupted him. “No, Dean. I just mean, I don't wanna…I mean, I can't wait anymore.”

She reached up and ran her hand down his cheek. “I want you, and I’m…I'm ready.”

Dean clasped her hand on his cheek and pulled her fingers to his lips, kissing each tip. “Me too, sweetheart. Been ready for a long time in fact.”

Y/N smiled shyly and stretched up to kiss the corner of his jaw, cut square and as sharp as glass. Dean curled in on her, unbuttoning the first few buttons on her blouse and pushing it off her shoulder so he could kiss her there. His teeth scraped delicately across her skin. 

Y/N gasped and shuddered. Dean pulled back to look down at her. He brushed the wispy tendrils of hair off her face as he studied her flushed cheeks and shallow breathing.

When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, he smiled at her and spoke, slightly hesitant.

“Are you scared?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, not scared. Just,” she ducked her head, “just nervous I guess.” She met his gaze again. “It's a big deal, you know?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” 

Y/N bit her lip before licking them. “You've…um…you've done it. Before. Right?”

Dean looked slightly uncomfortable, but nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, then. “How many girls?”

Dean scowled and cleared his throat. “Y/N let's…I don't wanna talk about this. We don't have to talk about this.”

Y/N shifted slightly in his lap again and Dean hissed and clenched his jaw against the movement as she responded. “Come on. You were there in the same health class as me, listening to Coach Ginter tell us we need to know about our partner's sexual history.”

“Y/N.” 

“Come on.” She urged him. “I wanna know. It's the responsible thing to do. You know about all zero of my former partners."

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes slightly. “Okay, if I tell you, you're not gonna freak out?”

“No, of course not.”

“Promise?”

It was Y/N's turn for an eye roll. “Yes, I promise.”

Dean breathed out through his nose and was quiet a moment. “Five.”

Y/N's eyes widened. “You've had sex five times?”

Dean shook his head. “No, five girls. I've had sex lots of times.”

He seemed to catch his mistake and and shook his head dismissively. “But they don't matter.”

But Y/N wasn't listening. “Who were they?”

Dean sat up straight. “Uh uh. We're not doing that.”

Y/N raised her voice slightly and slid off Dean's lap to sit on the seat. “Doing what? This is the proper thing to do. Coach Ginter said that we-”

“Jesus Christ!”Dean barked out and then let out a thoroughly  exasperated laugh. “Would you stop bringing up the image of Coach Ginter is his fucking short shorts and sweat-stained white t-shirts. It's really killing the vibe here.”

Y/N wasn't laughing. “The only thing killing the vibe is the fact that you won't tell me who the scores of women were that you slept with.”

Dean frowned. “Not scores. Five.” He held up a hand full of fingers. “Five.”

“Okay, then who were they?”

Dean dropped his head into his hand. “Y/N!” He growled.

“Just tell me.” Y/N said, in what was clearly a forced calm. “It's no big deal, I'm just curious.”

Dean sighed deeply before looking back at her. “You have to promise, swear!” He said with a raised finger. “That you're not gonna get mad.”

Y/N was shaking her head before he finished. “Of course not.”

“Say ‘I promise’.”

“I promise.” Y/N said, hand over heart.

After a minute Dean took a deep breath. “Tracey Reeves. She was my first.”

The name rang a bell, and Y/N squinted, searching her memory, and then it dawned on her and her face became slack with shock, quickly followed by outrage.

“Tracey REEVES!! You mean that sadistic bitch who tortured me at the start of our freshman year?”

Dean scoffed. “Come on! It was initiation! All the seniors were torturing freshman! I got tortured too! It was just hazing. I mean, it wasn't that bad, for god's sake it was a fucking school event. The principal was there!"

Y/N pouted. “Yeah well, your little sweetie pie dumped that jar of mayonnaise on my head with just a bit too much glee.”

Dean rolled his eyes and then Y/N held a hand up. “Wait, wait. We left there before Halloween. So…” Her eyes got big. “You lost your virginity when you were fourteen?” Her voice was all disbelief.

Dean's jaw clenched. “Is this judgment?”

Y/N looked away and shook her head. “Who else?”

Dean growled again. “Ugh! Y/N, come on!”

“Who?!”

“You don't know three of them, k? You never met them.”

Y/N did quick math. “And the fifth one? Who was she?”

Dean stared at her, and Y/N could tell he was frustrated beyond belief, but her stubbornness wouldn't let her stop. She stared defiantly at him, waiting for him to answer.

He shook his head and spoke quietly. “You still promising to not get mad?” He said sarcastically.

“I'm not mad.” Y/N insisted. 

Dean rolled his eyes and mumbled out his answer. “Sam's tutor, Casey.”

Y/N felt her heart stop. “She's…she was tutoring Sam when we got together.”

Dean stepped on the end of her sentence. “It was before that. Before we got together.”

Y/N squeezed her hands into balls with white knuckles. “How long before?”

“Who cares?” Dean shouted defensively. “The only thing that matters is the ‘before’ part!”

But Y/N was barely listening. She was doing more math. “She was only tutoring Sam for like a week before we started dating.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean mumbled, “You have the fucking memory of an elephant.”

When Y/N just kept staring at him he heaved a sigh and spoke angrily. “Fine, yes, it was three or four days before we got together.”

Y/N felt her heart begin to hurt. “You said, but you said you liked me then. You said, you’ve liked me since we were kids.”

“I did!” Dean said vehemently, and then amended his words. “I have! I do!”

“But that whole week leading up to us getting together, you said you knew I was jealous, you knew I was interested.”

“No, I said, I HOPED you might be interested. I didn't know anything for sure.”

“And you couldn't wait to find out?!” Y/N asked near tears. “You just slept with some other girl and then three days later started kissing me? What did Casey think about this? I mean she came over at least four or five more times after that. Did you, uh, decide to go for a second round just to say goodbye?”

Dean's face became immobile and expressionless but his eyes were hurt and hard. “If you actually think that, think I'd do that, what the fuck are you doing here with me? Why are you with me at all?”

“I don't know!” Y/N shouted, her temper exploding. “Maybe if I'd known I was dating some kind of man-whore I wouldn't be here!”

Her temper tried to blind her to the way Dean flinched at her words, but she saw it, and it sat heavy in her heart. But her chest was heaving and her eyes burned and she refused to apologize.

Dean didn't say anything. He just opened the door and walked out to get to the driver's seat. Y/N stayed in the back. He started up the car and drove them all the way home in silence.

The night that had started with so much promise and excitement, had been shattered; promises made and broken. But the broken promise of them - what they almost were - that was what cut Y/N the most.

This fight felt different. It felt final, dark. Jealousy and hurt feelings, anger and resentment festered between them.

For days that turned into weeks they avoided each other as much as possible. Dean was gone all the time, and it ripped Y/N's heart out to think of where he might be spending his time. 

She wanted to say sorry, wanted the fight to just melt away between them as they always had before. They'd been so close to something permanent, something binding between them, and now it was ruptured, leaving a crater between them.

She didn't know how to cross it.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

[elleloquently]

lmk if this is dumb or if you arent taking requests rn but i just dyed my hair (myself) for the millionth time and i was thinking... college!ellie... helping reader dye their hair.... you get what im saying?/!?:))-&2):$2)/

LOVE INVISIBLE STRING BTW

-🪩

| a/n : what color did you do?!? sorry this took a bit to get done, i did a headcanon type format bc i felt that would work best so i hope that's okay!! <3 thank you for requesting!!

college!ellie helps dye your hair :

maybe deciding to dye your hair in the middle of the night wasn't the best idea, but after debating the idea for weeks, you finally felt inspired enough to do so and decided to jump on your sudden burst of motivation, finally taking the plunge.

it was the same back and forth for weeks. you were going to leave your hair alone, until you happened upon a gorgeous color you absolutely had to have. soon enough you had purchased the dye and the color was in your hands, but you had changed your mind. you did this often, examining the package in your hands, admiring the color and swearing you would finally dye it in the morning, but the only event that came with a new day was a change of heart.

finally, feeling fed up with homework but not tired enough to call it a night, you turned the package containing the dye over in your hands. you contemplated it, thoughtfully, before mumbling out loud.

"i think i'm gonna do it now, ells."

ellie, who was laying on her stomach with her feet in the air, wordlessly peeked at you from over the top of her astronomy textbook.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

-you wouldn't agree on whose idea it actually was. ellie would side that you begged, pleaded, even bribed her to help out with your hair project. you would disagree, claiming that ellie pushed to help with promises of 'it'll be fun!'

-regardless, you ended up in the bathroom, suddenly feeling uncertain as yourself and ellie stared at each other in the mirror. you had a towel wrapped around your shoulders, a lazy attempt at covering the old tee shirt you were wearing. you dug it out of your closet purposefully for this, not caring if any hair dye stained the worn cotton fabric.

-you were feeling excited, eager even, especially since ellie was going to help. that feeling was quickly replaced with doubt at the way ellie mischievously laughed while snapping plastic gloves onto her hands, flexing her fingers under the clinging material. you giggled nervously nonetheless, forcing ellie to read through the instructions once and then a second time to make sure she had really read them.

-the event would prompt a lot of laughter, and definitely a lot of light-hearted bickering. you would insist that ellie pays attention to what she's doing, it's your head for god sake, and she would argue that you need to stay still and let her focus.

-"ellieeeuugghhh"

-despite the banter or the moments of brief silence, it was practically an excuse to simply enjoy ellie's touch. she was gentle, even when she was being ridiculous on purpose, and the way she would examine each strand of hair, squinting and furrowing her eyebrows to make sure the color was evenly distributed, was adorable.

-it was simply because it was you, and ellie wanted to be careful with you and also wanted you to be proud that she had helped and even did a good job.

-you would let your eyes close momentarily, sighing in contentment when ellie spoke, quietly announcing her approval by saying, "this is going to look so good."

-it was nearly so peaceful, so perfect, until you had to remind ellie to make sure she was putting enough dye on the top and not just on the ends, and until she started grumbling about how the gloves were making her feel clumsy.

-"just be careful please ellie, i have class tomorrow," you laughed, imagining how terrible it would be to walk around with stains on your skin, matching the new color of your hair.

-only you didn't have to imagine.

-a few reminders here and there, (some gentle, some not) and ellie's responses of 'i know, don't worry,' came to a halt in an instant.

-it was a small moment, a teeny tiny slip up. you had gotten caught up with talking, and poor ellie really tried to work around your wiggles while you had been talking, and she even attempted to scold you about moving around so much, which you should've taken seriously.

-ellie needed a better view of the top of your hair, and you kept looking up at her while you were speaking. to hold you still, out of habit, ellie placed a gentle hand across your face, fingers spread over your chin and cheeks.

-upon the touch you immediately both froze. your mouth snapped shut and ellie's dropped open, registering what she had done. she slowly pulled the sticky glove away from your face, afraid to reveal what was underneath and you squeezed your eyes shut.

-"please tell me it's not bad please tell me it's not bad plea... ellie? why aren't you saying anything? is it bad? oh my god ellie is it-"

-okay, it wasn't that bad, but you definitely had some stains on your face.

-ellie thought you might react poorly but you howled with laughter, even surprised by your own reaction.

-ellie got a little bit grumpy though and ripped the gloves off of her hands and dumped them into the trash, insisting she could work more accurately without them. honestly she just felt bad but kept cracking a smile about it anyway.

-"ellie," you frowned, "i don't think that's good for your skin," you said in protest.

-ellie raised an eyebrow at you, practically referencing her mistake that was stained onto your face. "i'll be fine," she muttered. "it could be worse."

-hair color anew and mess cleaned, you admired your new hair in the mirror while ellie grinned proudly over your shoulder. you thanked her endlessly for helping, and she insisted it wasn't a big deal but honestly felt proud that you even trusted her in the first place to have her help out.

-you had the evidence to show for your evening together, the splotched stains around your face matched the dye stains covering ellie's fingers, which you both could not stop laughing about the next day.

[popculturebuffet]

X-Month: Mutancy on the Bouncy (darkwing Duck) (Comission for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy muties and welcome back to X-Month, last year known as mutant month!

A brief recap: Last year being an x-men fan with a rather.. chill attitude toward the strangest heroes of all

I did a theme month covering them: I covered their first animated apperance as the defenders of peace as hawkeye joind the x-men to fight namor and dr doom because the fantastic four's rights were busy that day, reviewed the all time franchise defining classic God Loves, Man Kills as the x-men fougth releigion and Xavier was crucified in a hallucination by demonic x-men on the top of the world trade center

I looked at Rogue's poorly drawn first apperance where Carol Danvers gave a hearty fuck you to her former friends for leaving her with a space rapist, and capped it all off iwth the first hellfire gala.

SO what do we have for round 2? Well how about mutant rubber chickens, the gloriously gay origin of Nightcrawler we at long last finally got, the debut of one of the greatest x-men spinoffs ever, one of the best x-men joining the x-men... and almost causing every last one of them to quit, one of the best x-men adaptations ever that debuted just this year and capping off with the comic that started the krakoan age with 6 words "While you slept, the world changed". The schedule's as follows.

9/8:

X-Men Origins Blue X-Men 97 Uncanny X-Men #171: Rogue

9/15: Transformers Cyberverse: Megatron IS MY hero Marvel Graphic Novel #4: The New Mutants

9/22: Transformers One Sam and Max: The Tomb of Sammun-Mak House of X/Powers of X

So to kick us off, and for what alll you duck fans have been waiting for, we're looking at an episode of Darkwing Duck, Mutancy on the Bouncy.

Mutancy on the Bouncy comes from the shows third and final season, called season 2 on Disney+ if your curious to check the episode out as Darkwing Duck's episode order is a nightmare I cannot escape. It came out one month after x-men the animated series, but is more a parody of the concept of mutants and how many there are than the actual x-men. It's only real satire is "There sure are a lot of mutants". And I love them all. except you Havok. You go sit in your corner.

So instead of a direct parody we get a bunch of mutants all themed after practical jokes (gluing someone to something, banana (For banana peel), a literal rubber chicken and a woman who can make you sneeze for sneezing powder), fighting a stone pig crime boss while Darkwing is a racist, narcist moron repeatedly assaulting an innocent person. Yes really.. see what I mean under the cut!

We open with a three way brawl between Darkwing Duck and two newcomers; Rubber Chicken , exactly what he sounds like and Cementhead... whose not a giant head made of cement but a pig made of cement. GOsalyn is on the scene reporting having become an ace reporter and narrates the episode> It's a fun device and gosalyn as an ace reporter fits; She's nozy, she's already butting into darkwings business and she's entertaning.

She dosen't have much integrity, traumtizing herb and binky muddlefoot, the next door neighbors to get sensatonalist photos but she wants a big story.. and to keep getting out of gym.

Around this time Darkwing is dealing with a new mutant criminal, Cementhead. And yup they use mutants. Granted the mutants here aren't due to an x gene but due to being downwind of some sort of plant having parents etc. Which itself.. is clever. Early X-men applied it was atomic radiation what caused it or caused the x-gene to devleop and it's still implied by some like charles xavier his parents working in radiation is why it manifested. So while i'm not sure it's intentional it fits. It also reminds me of a great joke Christopher Preist would do a few years after this episode during his black panther run, having Everett Ross, when encountering the heroes for higher lazily narrate they just fell into a radioactive vat of cream of wheat.

Darkwing finds clues that point to another mutant rubber chicken.. and I wasn't kidding: Darkwing takes 5 seconds to assume he's worknig for cementhead because "Those mutants always hang out together"

Yeah Darkwing is not likeable.. at all in this episode. He looks at the obvious frameup and despite Rubber Chicken (Who in a great gag is over at the snack bar) constantly TELLING him "I was framed", doing nothing ot harm him and generally trying to runa way at best.. Darkwing continues to persue him, tries to take him in despite you know, as a mutant probably not getting great treatment, and tries to beat him up. The last one highlights why, as frustrating as it is to see Darkwing be mildly racist and completely an ass this works: darkwing.. isn't remotely in the right. His shenanigans this episode have him at his most egotistical and judgemental and in the chunk of episodes i've seen the guy has a bad tendency to both be black and white in his morality and quick to judge. It's not really suprising Darkwing won't listen to obvious logic and maybe talk to the guy.. he can't even get over himself long enough to stop attacking and realize he's just hurting himself as Rubber Chicken's body means most of Darkwings tactics just get him hurt. I love RC' sline of "I' dbetter leave: If you keep giving me what' scoming ot me you'll end up in the hopstial"

Gos wants in but Darkwing, as usual, refuses which is hilaroiusly petty at this point as we're on episode 89, and for once somewhere firmly in the time stream instead of whatever got finished first. How many times does he need to learn this. It's a downside of being a status quo show: some conflicts get repeated, again. and again and agani. Like Homer and Marge' smarrige being in crisis you just get tired of it. I do love the gag of goslayn going "Launchpad beliveis me" before darkwing mentions something he belivies in, the easter bunny then the tooth fair an dhas to backpedal to not hurt the big guy.

So Gosalyn nintendoes what darkwing don't:.. actualyl asks questoins. While sh'es just as confrontational she.. actually listens to him and he gives his origin story: He was born from parents who lived downwind of a rubber plant, and thus grew up with fantastic elastic powers. Sadly as many a young mutant has experinced instead of his powers making him popular he was hated and.. well not feared luckily, more mocked so he hid his powers. Until he found out his boss swinheart was in cahoots with cementhead, and thus became Rubber Chicken to foil him. So Cementhead simply framed him. Gosalyn belivies him and supports him.

Darkwing.. is a dick about it

He refuses to belive her for.. no real reason. He assumes sh'es making it up and while Gosalyn isn't exactly TRUSTWORTHY this isn't the first time or even the 50th she's found out stuff.

Part of it is that Swineheart is actually trusted and loved by the city, a philanthropist. Which... fits a little and is part of what makes Cementhead such an intresting villian. Yes their one and the same, and that's the key: Cementhead is powerful on his own, a giant brick of cement that can bulldoze.. but as Swineheart he hides in plain sight. He's essentially Darkwing Duck's versoin of kingpin with a bit of tombstone mixed in, having the formers position as legit buisness man the public dosen't know is evil at first and the latter's stone skin.

He also easily dispatches darkwing by.. playing to his ego. He's not the first villian to do this, i'm sure, but most of darkwings foes go for the upfront approach: beat him up and hope it works this time. Part of what makes negaduck his arch enemy is attacking him at his vunerablities, trying to romance morgana in the show and tracking launchpad in the comics. Granted Negaduck shoudl've also been born as drake mallard but let's just say he had a diffrent name or thought Darkwing would use a fake name for civilian life and move on.

So rather than simply unmask and beat him senseless, he uses darkwing as a pawn offering him his own film, tv series, toyline and even a cartoon (Though the last one's going to be a lot).. if he catches Rubber Chicken. We also meet another mutant, a man who can turn into a banana. This non sequinter will be important later.

Goslalyn calls him out for being bribed so easily and transparently and goes to get proof. Because letting a little girl go into a dangerous situation isn't okay when she's trying to do a school project but it's totally fine when you don't give enough of a shit to go after her apparently.

So we get a great scene of darkwing going after poor rubber chicken who just.. stands still while Darkwing breaks things. Even for him this is a pretty sizeable new low. I love the shopekeep just.. adding up how much he owes. She's also a mutant and can stick things to people and when darkwing doubts, she literally sticks him with the bill. I did not realize the pun till now and applaud the show for doing it so subtly.

While this is going on gos goes for swineheart. She manages to get a photo

But gets caught immedietly

Cleverly she uses swineheart's own tactic against him.. asking him about himself an dfiguring she's about to die and not really getting to give his secret origin that often, he endulges.

It's also a fascinating origin espeically in an episode that's already dense with a guest character, a running gag about mutants setting stuff up for later, and gosalyn's whole reporter schtick. IT's remakeable HOW much this episdoe packs in without feeling overstuffed or too short to do it all.

So Cementhead was the sone of a famous crimelord, but his dad disowned hima nd threw him out for bein ga mutant. And honestly.. i'm shcoked HOW well this episdoe nails mutants: sure i'ts mostly an excuse to do some wacky gags and a fun running gag about there being some hiden mutant EVERYWHERE, but it stilll nails the core of x-men: That mutants are hated and feared just for existing. But where as Rubber Chicken at least had a family, Cementhead had nothing and gladly turned to crime. He became swineheart as he was tired of hiding, and this became a way to still do crime while also being a publci figure.

He plans to cement gosalyn's fate only for her to slip out and escape. Darkwing.. dosen't belivie her because.. she doctored photos earlier. This should work.. but said photos were.. herb muddlefoot with a plant on his head and binkie muddlefoot looking dazed and holding a knife. If this episode emphasiesed how much gosalyn lied, it would've worked better, making Darkwing's skepticism less douchey. But he never brings it up till now: It comes off like he dosen't trust gosalyn.. because he dosen't WANT TO and is using an easy excuse which still works in character but makes him a bigger dick than usual

So Gos goes with plan b: To me my x-men. And since they dont' have a psychic bald man with severe issues and manipulative tendencies they go to the media to call for all mutants.. after the reporter on deck reports darkwing is once again on the hook for property damage, a casual gag I just love. Naturally it dosen't go super great at first as Rubber Chicken is a nervous fellow. He's endeearing, simply wanting to do the right thing but utterly terrifeid of darkwing and of a small child, neither of which are a good look. But when pressed he does the right thing anyway. He coudl've given up hunting cementhead after the frame job and just.. disappeared.. but he dosen't. Because he wants to catch him because even if everyone fears him or wnats to lock him up.. it's the right thing. And that's what being an x-man is all about.. you may not be loved.. but you are needed to push for a better tommorow. And that's what matters

The Reporter sympathizes.. and reveals she's also a mutant and urges others to help.

So as Darkwing finds out Swinheart and Cementhead are the same person just in time to learn what the five fingers said to the face, a new team which i'm dubbing THE X-DUCKS. They are Rubber Chicken the fearful fowl with limbs of rubber! Banana BOy! Whose actually a grown ass man whose banana form has a cape for some reason! Glue Gal, the girl with the power to stick to you like glue and make it hard to find a catchphrase not lind with innuendo for her and Sneezemaster, who will give you the sniffles.

Together they.. easily get beaten. Yeah hilariously the lack of experince, team cordination or any time in the field apart from Rubber Chicken just.. causes them all to be irrelvant and crash into each other leaving only rubber chicken. It works way better than it has any right to: all this buildup.. and the payoff to all the mutants running around is them running into each other. IT's brilliant. And it's a hard joke to pull off: Deadpool 2 tried a similar thing with x-force but it didn't work as not only did they all die horribly.. but it felt so damn mean spirited. HEre nothings stopping these mutants from sticking around as a team or learning to be better, they simply weren't ready for this fight.

So it's up to darkwing who finally learns rubber chickens powers have a backlash.. and lures cementhead to attack so rubber chicken can slingshot him. With that Darkwing admits maybe mutants arne't so bad and Rubber Chicken.. hilariously lays into him, shouting about him being an egotist and a bully. He takes offence to the..f rist one.

It's a great ending to a great episode. Mutancy on the Bouncy is a lot of fun, taking the x-men concept and doing the goofies verison of it imaginable> THe team reminds me of the legion of substitue heroes from DC: heroes with pretty niche powers who fight anyway because it's the right thing. The episode nails being a mutant: the isolation, the hiding to avoid being hated and feared, how some revel in thier power and how grouping together can help you surivive. Rubber Chicken ends the episode with more confidence, friends and not hated and feared. I wish the series lived long enough to get a sequel and hope these guys pop up in the dynamite comics as it dosen't seem like they did in boom.. and if i'm wrong please tell me. This episode is stacked with great one offs and is one of my faviorites i've seen. I may be of coursed a little teeny bit biased towards something parodying x-men, but theyt ake the basic concept and make it their own wonderfully. Thanks for reading

[munson-blurbs]

Absolutely love that gif of him on ur bsf to lovers post. 😩

Anyways, afab reader wears a short skirt and a lace thong that barely covers her privates <3 she teases eddie during a dnd campaign and bends over etc until he can’t take it anymore and he pulls her onto of him and moves her hips up and down as he fucks into her 😖 soft dom eddie and hellaaa praise

I'm combining this with a request for an Eddie breeding kink...I hope that's okay!

(”Breeding kink, you finding out by him looking at baby commercials and being nice to Dustin and the other kids thinking about him having one of his own”) @hahahafucku

Warnings: this is literally all smut and I think there’s a plot in there somewhere (18+ minors begone), breeding kink, public teasing, semi-public sex I guess, language, brief mention of reader’s body size

WC: 2.6k

A/N: I usually don’t write fics this smutty so pleeeeeeease let me know what you think! Too much? Not enough? Just right?

--

"Hey, babe?" You're glancing at the shopping list as you make your way through the store. Eddie was just by your side; you're supposed to be helping him pick up snacks for his campaign tomorrow, but your boyfriend has wandered off yet again.

"Eds, where are you?" you call out softly, attracting the attention of some irritated customers.

"Over here," you hear from four aisles down. You huff and make your way to him.

"Babe, do you really need four different types of chips?" you ask, but he's drawn into the products on the shelves. You look at what he's staring at: rows of diapers and jars of baby food.

"Are you pregnant or something?" you joke, poking his side. He jumps as you break him from his trance. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," he shuffles towards the cart and plops down the cans of soda he'd picked up. You're not convinced but place the thought on the back burner for now.

Why would Eddie be interested in baby products?

~

You wait until you're back in his beat-up van, bags of junk food loaded into the back.

"So, you wanna tell me what that was all about?" you ask, more curious than accusing.

"What?"

"Come on, Eddie. Why did I catch you looking at baby stuff? Not just glancing, but really looking?" You'd been together for awhile, and you knew he wanted kids one day, but there was no way that he wanted them now...was there?

"I dunno," he replies sheepishly, long curls falling over his face. "'S stupid."

The worst-case scenario flashes into your mind. "Oh my god, did you cheat on me and get her pregnant?"

Eddie laughs louder than he intends to; your accusation is just too ridiculous. "Absolutely not! You know I only have eyes for you, sweetheart." He gives you his best puppy dog look and kisses you hard.

"Then why won't you tell me what's going on?"

He sighs and throws back his head in defeat. "Fine, but just...don't judge me, okay?" You continue when you nod, palms moist with sweat. "Okay, so, I've been thinkin'," he starts, looking down at the car floor nervously. The engine is running though you're still parked, and he kills it. "Thinkin' about how goddamn gorgeous you would look if you were havin' my baby."

Huh. Well, that wasn't what you'd expected him to say. "You mean in, like, ten years?" But you know better.

Eddie shakes his head. "Nah, sweetheart. Right fuckin' now."

"Oh," you manage, "but you're still in high school," you point out, though you know exactly what his reply will be, and you're right.

"Only for another month. And babies take a lot longer than that to cook," he grins while he says it, and you realize that he's no longer looking at the car floor, but at your stomach. He's imagining you pregnant with his baby.

"Wow," you breathe out. "Can I-can I think about it?"

His eyebrows shoot up; clearly, he was not expecting you to even consider this proposal.

"Y-yeah, baby. Of course." He presses a kiss to your cheek, though you can tell by the bulge in his pants that he wants to do a lot more. He starts the van up again and heads for home, leaving you with a lot to think about.

~

You thought about the prospect of having Eddie's baby all night. In the shower, you ran your fingertips over the flatness of your stomach, thinking about a bump there. A bump that held Eddie Munson's child.

Yes, you were young, but you'd been together for two years, and you were also adults. Adults with jobs--you'd been working full-time at the bank since you'd graduated last year. And Eddie will be working full-time with Wayne at the plant soon. You'd already discussed moving in together; you promised your parents that you and Eddie would graduate before doing so, and that day would be here in just about four weeks. Maybe you could do this.

The easiest way to tell him would be to call him, but you had a better idea. You'd see the feral look in his eyes when he mentioned his desires--why not allow him to...give in to those carnal instincts?

~

The plan was perfect. You'd ditch work claiming a stomach flu (no one wants someone vomiting all over the workplace) and sneak back into Hawkins High. You'd been gone less than a year and still knew the layout like the back of your hand. Most importantly, you knew the abandoned janitor's closet on the second floor, the one conveniently near the drama/Hellfire room where you could sneak off and make a quick wardrobe change.

There’s no mirror in there, of course, so you just hope that your red lipstick isn’t smudged or on your teeth. You smooth down your black tank top, adjusting your breasts so that your cleavage is perfectly framed by the neckline. The icing on the cake is the tiny miniskirt that falls at the top of your thighs, exposing the long legs that stand in your heels.

School’s out, and Eddie’s told you that Hellfire is starting a bit late today so that the boys can watch Lucas Sinclair play in a basketball game. Eddie never got the hype of school-sanctioned sports, but it was important to his little sheep, so he’d compromised. Worked out for them, and it also happened to work out perfectly for you.

You knew Eddie would already be in the Hellfire room, meticulously setting up his campaign. You could picture him pacing anxiously around the table, ensuring everything looked just right. With a peek into the hall that showed the coast was clear, you scurried into the room where Eddie was chewing on his thumbnail, looking over his Dungeon.

“Hey there,” you say softly, and his head snaps up at the sound of your voice.

“Y/N, what are you--oh, holy shit.” His tone turns from confusion to pure lust as he eyes you, taking in you and your outfit hungrily. He runs his tongue over his lips involuntarily as he makes his way to you.

“Do you like it?” you feign shyness as he grabs your hips and pulls you as close as he can. You can feel him straining against his zipper already.

All he can mutter is “Oh my god,” as he buries his face in your neck, kissing it sloppily and sucking bruises into your skin.

“Figured we could try for that baby you mentioned, but I didn’t wanna wait for you to get home,” you shrug as he moves his hands under your short skirt, moaning audibly as he presses his palms against your bare ass, left mostly uncovered by a lace thong. When he hears what you’ve said--really registers it, which takes a moment--he pulls back.

“Are you serious?” He smiles, holding your face in his strong, calloused hands. 

You press your own hands to his chest and whisper into his lips, punctuating your statement with a series of kisses. “Eddie, I want to have your baby. I want to get big...and round...and swollen...growing each month...with your baby.”

He shivers against you and hoists you up, slamming you against the wall; you wrap your legs around him as he pushes your skirt around your waist. He starts to rub a finger against your soaked panties, when you both hear it:

“Can’t believe the other team didn’t show!” Lucas. Oh, no.

“Buncha pussies, forfeiting like that,” Dustin’s voice rings out.

“At least Eddie will be glad we’re starting on time,” Mike chimes in.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “hand me my bag. I can run into the corner and throw on my pants.”

Eddie lets you down but grips your wrist. “Not so fast,” he growls. “I just got you how I want you, and I’m not letting you go.”

“B-but the boys--”

“We’re not fucking in front of them,” he dismisses your concern, “but you’re gonna sit on my lap, dressed like my perfect little slut.” He grabs you by the hem of your skirt and you yelp. “You think I’m gonna let my fantasy slip through my fingers?”

You nod, feeling a heat rising in your lower body. 

“So now, you’ll be a good girl for me. You’re gonna sit on my lap, be my...helper...during the campaign, and then I’m gonna fuck a baby into you once we’re done. Got it?” He tilts your chin up so you’re looking directly into his eyes.

“Yes, sir.” Eddie takes his seat on his throne and you do as he’s instructed, feeling his erection underneath you as he slides a ringed hand up your thigh. 

“Welcome, boys!” Eddie’s voice booms. You feel a blush creep up your neck toward your cheeks. “Got my little helper here today.” He takes the hand farthest from the boys and squeezes your ass and you gasp softly.

Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, Munson? you think. Game on.

~

You spend the rest of the Hellfire meeting doing whatever you can to torture Eddie. You’re constantly “repositioning” yourself, grinding on him and feeling him grow harder with each subtle movement.

“Knock it off, princess,” he whispers, but you’re in the mood to be a brat. You pretend to get a little sleepy and stretch, showing off your breasts in Eddie’s face. You watch his eyes flick to your chest before returning to the game.

While he’s reading the next part of the campaign aloud, you place your palm on his jeans, right over his cock, making him take a sharp breath in.

But your grand finale is when Gareth rolls the D20 and it lands right in front of Eddie’s notes. When it’s Mike’s turn to roll next, you stop him.

“I can get it, Wheeler,” you say, leaning over and giving Eddie a clear up-skirt view. You know he can even see your clothed pussy from the angle you’re giving him. 

Eddie hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you back down, glaring at you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him innocently. “Am I not helping?”

“Okay, that’s it,” he mutters before turning to the rest of his group. “All right, we’re wrapping up for the night.” His announcement is met with a chorus of grumbles. “Hey, hey, hey, I don’t wanna hear it! We will continue this next week.” 

The boys file out of the room, mumbling about Eddie’s bizarre behavior. Once they leave, Eddie grabs you, positioning you so you’re straddling him in his throne. 

“What the fuck was that?” he pulls your hair to bring your face closer to his. “You tryin’ to make me blow my load in my pants? Sounds to me like you don’t really want me breeding you.”

“N-no, I do. I do,” you whimper. “Want your baby, Eddie. Please.”

“I don’t think I believe you. I need to be convinced,” he sneers.

“Please, Eddie. I need you to breed me. Need you to fill me up with your cum and get me pregnant,” you beg. You allow yourself a small sigh of relief as he eases his grip on your hair, but it’s short-lived, because he tears off your thong with a rip and slides his pointer and middle fingers along your wet folds.

“You’re soaked, princess,” he groans. “I love how wet you get for me. Ruined your panties and now you’re gonna ruin my jeans.” He presses one finger to your aching clit, making small, slow circles, and laughs menacingly as you cry out.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, mocking your earlier question. “Can’t handle being teased?” When you don’t respond, he moves his finger faster, rubbing your clit harder. “How’s this?”

“S-so good,” you manage, grinding back and forth on his finger. You want--no you need--him inside you, but you don’t dare tell him that for fear he’ll deny you that pleasure. “You know exactly where to touch me.”

Eddie beams as he receives the praise, moving his finger from your swollen nub to your pussy. He slides it in and curls it, pumping it in and out, your beautiful moans ringing in his ears. He adds a second finger and lets out a moan of his own as you clench around him.

“Sorry, baby,” he apologizes preemptively. You’re confused until he removes his fingers and cleans them with his tongue, leaving you hurting for him. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper, palming his cock through his boxers.

“Eddie,” you whine, “I could’ve done that for you.” Touch-starved and desperate for affection, you lift your own shirt over your head. A sheer lace bra leaves little to the imagination.

Eddie sucks on the exposed part of your breasts, leaving hickeys all over them. One hand still on his erection, he uses the other to unhook your bra. As soon as it clatters to the ground, he’s groping your tits, biting your nipples as pleasure and pain intertwine and you scream loudly.

Not wanting to take his hands off of your breasts, he shuts you up with a kiss. “Can’t...fuckin’...wait...any longer,” he pants, and you take his rock hard length into your hand. You start to move to get on your knees, but he stops you.

“Need to be inside this tight little pussy,” he orders, rubbing his cock along your wetness until he’s covered in your slick, and he presses himself into you. “You were made for me, you fuckin’ know that?” 

“I’m all yours,” you agree easily, matching his rhythm as you ride him. “My body belongs to you, Eddie. You can do whatever you want with me.”

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie’s groaning. He grabs onto your hips and moves you exactly how he needs you. “Your body, your mouth, your everything is fuckin’ perfect.” His thrusts get faster and your orgasm builds inside you as you feel him get deeper, hitting that spot over and over again.

“Eddie, I’m gonna cum,” you plead, asking for permission rather than telling him. “Please let me cum all over you while you fill me up.”

“I’m cumming, too.” He grips your sides even harder, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, and you suspect there will be bruises there tomorrow. He slams you up and down over his cock and you finish with tears streaming down your face. You feel him shoot thick, hot ropes into you. With the little strength he has left, he places you onto the table, still inside of you.

“Lay back,” he orders. “Don’t want any of this coming out. You gonna get knocked up today, aren’t you, princess?”

“Y-yes, Eddie,” you whisper. You watch as he pulls out of you. He frowns when he sees cum running down your leg. With a quick swipe of his hand, he pushes it back into you.

“You took all of me, didn’t you? Such a good girl,” he remarks. You’re too fucked out to muster up a response, and he notices. “Poor baby. I really fucked you good, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” 

Eddie puts himself away and sits back in his throne, admiring his work. “Love seeing you like this.”

“It’s all you, Eds,” you finally say. “All because of you, and all for you.”

“My beautiful little vixen,” he throws his head back with a low growl. “Tell you what. You stay just like that, make sure it takes. Then we’ll go back to my place and relax, okay?”

“And go for round two?” you ask mischievously. “Make sure I get pregnant tonight?”

Eddie laughs. “I wish, but Wayne will be home.”

You beckon him to the table and pull him in for a long, deep kiss. “Guess you’ll just have to keep me quiet, then.”

--

Taglist: @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @benztripp @ali-r3n @munsonology

[drownedinlavender]

Helloooo, so I'm writing a long kyman fic. It's gonna be a slow burn multi-chapter one. I got like a good 1/3 of it down with like a skeleton of events mapped out. Since I haven't been active in any fandom or like written fanfic since I was a teen, I wanted to post an excerpt to kinda test the waters a bit haha I'm kinda shy about sharing stuff but was greatly inspired by a lot of people's work.

Anyway, the premise is Cartman impulsively taking the fall on something and being admitted to inpatient cause of it. This excerpt is when he facetimes the gang to tell them about it. Stan and Kenny are at school during lunch, Kyle's at the hospital (has to do with what Cartman took the blame for), and Eric's at home about to leave.

I'd greatly appreciate any criticism or input! Thank u for ur time 💜💖 ^^)/

"Dude, a psych ward? That sounds pretty serious," Stan looks mildly concerned.

"It is serious, Stan. That's why Kyle's gonna owe me big time when I get back," Eric smuggly declares, "Like sucking my balls big big time."

Kenny sneakers at the brunette still obsessing over a bet they made years ago when they were just kids.

"Man, you gotta lay off the balls thing, Cartman. That's hella gay," Stan drily informs while munching on a fry.

"Hey! It's not gay! It's about humiliation and having power over an individual," Eric offendedly denies, choosing to die on that hill.

Kyle, who has been absolutely seething in the background, finally bursts, "Fuck you, Cartman! I didn't ask you to cover for me, you did that all on your own!"

Eric scoffs, "Okay, fine, Kahl, would you prefer me going to PC principal and telling him I take it all back. That he should take you off the team like he wanted? Is that what you want, Kahl?"

Kyle tenses his jaw muscles as he grinds his teeth. Of course that's not what he wants but is Cartman holding one over his head any better? His eyes flicker to the side as he contemplates for a brief moment. Stan continues eating, staring at his screen waiting for his best friend to speak as if he's watching an enthralling reality tv show. Once Kenny's giggling fit finally subsides, he lays his head on one outstretched arm and sneaks a French fry from whoever's lunch tray is right across from him.

"Fine," Kyle bitterly concedes with a sigh, "but I'm not helping you do anything illegal like murder or whatever. And I'm definitely not sucking your balls," he points at Cartman through the screen.

"Oh…" a small voice utters in surprise across the room from Kyle. The redhead looks up at a shocked nurse half way through the door. "I-I'll come back in a second to check your vitals," she embarrassedly scurries out of the room.

Kyle's mortified face soon matches his hair. "God, damn it, Cartman!"

Kenny practically dies of laughter, not even bothering to hold his phone up right anymore.

"Dude," Stan snorts before cracking up as well.

Kyle hides his face with one hand, trying with every fiber of his being to maintain any ounce of composure he can muster before combusting from rage.

Eric's amused smile warps into a shit eating grin, he absolutely could not be any more delighted by the current turn of events. He obnoxiously clears his throat before continuing, "Very well, I'll leave a legally binding contract in your room before departing, Kahl. Now Kenny," he seamlessly changes the topic.

Kenny straightens himself out the best he can. "Uh-huh?" He responds through tears.

"Wait a second, fatass, do NOT break into my room!" Kyle protests.

Eric purposely ignores his rival, knowing it'll anger him further. "Kenny, my mom says you can use your spare key to clear out my fridge whenever. She's gonna stay up in Denver with some cousin until I'm out. We don't want the food rotting up and stinking up the place so do it sooner rather than later, got it?"

"Seriously, dude?!" Kenny immediately straightens himself out in elated surprise. Woohoo!" He cheers. He knows their fridge is always packed so he and his little sister are definitely set for bit.

"Knock yourself out, dude, just don't let anything rot in there. Seriously, I'll kick your ass if I come back and my house reeks like spoiled ass."

"You got it, bro," Kenny assures with a thumbs up.

"Don't ignore me, asshole!" Kyle's demands only serve to further Cartman's amusement.

"Welp, gotta go pack up some essentials. Don't know how long I'll have to be admitted … but it's all worth it for my dear friend Kahl's sake," Eric fakes sincerity. With a hand over his heart, he winks at Kyle.

"Oh, Fuck off," Kyle rolls his eyes.

"Well, good luck, dude. Don't blow up the place trying to escape," Stan waves goodbye from his screen.

"Guys, wanna say bye to Cartman? He's gonna go do some time at a loony bin," Kenny asks, reversing his camera to show the rest of their lunch table.

"We heard. You guys are super loud," Craig complains before biting his burger.

"Hey! Don't call it a loony bin, asswipe! That's totally insensitive to people with mental health issues. Not cool dude," Cartman condescendingly lectures, doing what he does best, playing the victim.

"Cartman's getting admitted? Dude, that's crazy!" Tweek comments.

"Wait, who's getting what now?" Clyde looks up from his phone, unaware of the conversation going on around him.

"Cartman, dude, he got in trouble again so PC principal's sending him to a psych ward," Tweek rapidly explains.

"Oh," Clyde responds in his usual nasally tone.

"All in order to save Kyle from getting kicked off the team," Cartman adds.

"Don't act like you did it from the kindness of your heart, fatass!" Kyle quickly corrects.

"First it's Cartman, then they'll be coming for the rest of us!" The jittery blond panics.

Craig pats his boyfriend's shoulder. "No they won't, honey, we don't cause the town to blow up every other month like they do."

"Hey!" Kyle indignantly exclaims.

"We haven't been directly responsible for the town's destruction for like," Stan counts the time in his head, "at least a year now!" He defends himself and his friends, receiving a middle finger from an unimpressed Craig.

"L-l-later, Eric, don't dr-dro-dr-dro-drop the soap," Jimmy jokes before offering up his signature smile.

"Jim, that's for jail," Tolkien corrects.

"Aw, we'll miss you, Eric! Don't take too long in the psych ward!" Butters gleefully shouts.

Kyle rolls his eyes, feeling himself getting more and more irritated by the situation at hand. "Oh, for Pete's sake, it's not like he's dying, you guys." The longer these farewells are dragging on, the more he can feel a twinge of guilt spreading throughout his subconscious and twisting up his guts.

"Poopsikins, mommy can't find Mr. Kitty's carrier, do you remember where we left it?" Liane can be heard calling from the background.

"Just a second, meeem!" Eric hollers off camera before getting back in frame and sticking out his tongue with a peace sign, "Later, losers ~ " he sings-songs and hangs up.

"You know …. For someone being sent off to an insane asylum, he seems really unbothered by it," Tolkien points out.

Kyle's eyes flicker down for just a second before choosing to quickly dismiss further analyzing Cartman's reaction to being sent away. "Well, yeah, it's Cartman. Do you really expect him to react normally about anything?"

"That's true," Tolkien immediately agrees, chalking it up to Cartman just being Cartman.

For a brief moment, Kyle remembers the time he was admitted when the town wouldn't believe him about Mr. Hankey but before he can even decide on entertaining that thought, Stan speaks.

"Wow … so he's really leaving, huh?" Stan says more than asks, looking a bit absent minded.

"I guess so," Kenny pensively looks down at the lunch table, head resting on crossed arms. He turns to Stan and forlornly admits, "dude … I'm actually feeling kinda bummed out."

Kyle bites the inside of his cheek. The reality of their current predicament further sinking in.

"Aw, Ken," Stan frowns and pats Kenny's shoulder.

"It's okay, Ken," Butters comforts, patting Kenny's back, "he said so himself, he probably won't be there for long."

"Isn't this a good thing though? Things are going to be a lot more peaceful while he's gone," Tolkien suggests.

"If Cartman gets admitted for the rest of the school year, I'll be sooooo happy," Craig chants in a monotone.

A sniffle directs everyone's focus towards Clyde.

"Clyde, you okay, buddy?" Craig puts down his lunch to fully focus on his friend's concerns.

"We *sniff* were starting to *sniff* get along more *sniff* this year," he powers through a closing throat.

Kyle bites his cheek even harder. Cartman was certainly a lot tamer as of late. Things were finally getting comfortable between the two of them, too.

"He was being a lot c-coo-c-coo-cooler this y-year," Jimmy admits.

The nurse knocks before entering Kyle's room this time. "I'm going to take your vitals again, okay?" She smiles.

"Yeah, sure," Kyle replies before addressing his friends, "I gotta go guys. Stan, can you come pick up my keys and move my car before my parents get back? I have a minor concussion so I'm under observation for a bit."

"Yeah, dude, totally," Stan confirms.

"Later," Kenny mumbles, waving with one hand, his face fully immersed in his crossed arms.

"Alright, thanks, see you guys later," Kyle says his goodbyes, queuing the nurse to begin taking his blood pressure.

Kyle barely moves, too busy contemplating Eric's departure. First, Stan moves and now Cartman's going to be gone for God knows how long? He bitterly sighs.

[kunekojo]

Hello there, I'd like to request a poly scenario for Jushiro and Shunsui. I have brainstorms about teaming up with Shunsui to softy praise Jushiro. Overwhelm him with affection.

-@dragon-anon 🐉

Aaaaaaa if it's one thing I love so much, it's overly praise and affection. Jushiro’s precious when it comes to these and I can't put into words how excited I am for this idea. Please do keep these lil brainstorms coming!!! I sincerely hope you enjoy it 🥹 this is my very first time writing anything for Junshiro and I honestly hope I did him well. Just the way he deserves to.

Love bomb

Pairing: Jushiro Ukitake x Kyoraku Shunsui x GN!Reader

Tags: praise, lots of praise to Jushiro from you both, and don't forget the immense amount of affection!!!

WC: 1,1k

•••

Noticing the quietness of you two, Jushiro promptly halts his words, shifting his body to see what’s wrong.

He’s never had you both silent at the same time before, so it’s a little worrying. Every time he finds himself talking for a little longer than he anticipated, either you or Shunsui accompany him in the discussion while the other observes comfortably, making tiny comments occasionally. Maybe it’s something he said that caused this result so it’s for the best to check up as soon as possible, and learn the meaning behind this odd behavior both you and Shunsui are showing.

Upon the turn, his eyes dart to the spot where you two are supposed to be, in each other's arms. Truthfully, the option of you two lovingly gazing at each other is a possibility and one he'd much rather see than his initial guess. Yet surprisingly, it's neither of them.

His brows draw together with a hint of uncertainty, finding himself being yearningly peered at by two sets of heavy-lidded eyes. You two are simply standing there, maintaining eye contact with him while wearing laid-back eyes and beaming smiles. It’s like you’re enjoying his company just by staring at him, even if he hasn’t actually done something noteworthy.

Despite this, he still feels the need to clear the air and ensure nothing bad is happening. He can’t dig the thought of one of you feeling unwell, distressed.

“Is there something wrong?” his body leans towards you and Shunsui, a look of puzzlement crossing his face.

“No, why do you think that?” you promptly reply, a little taken aback by what he said.

Shunsui remains silent but nods in agreement with you, curious himself regarding Jushiro’s concern.

“You’re both silent, which is a little unusual. “ he pauses, looking intently at you and then at Shunsui. “Is it about something I said?” there has to be an explanation?

“Not at all, dear. Why would you think that?” Shunsui lifts himself in his arms, observing Jushiro’s expression with a wide smile blooming on his face.

You two have just been paying attention to him. Paying attention to his motions, paying attention to the joyous excitement covering his voice as he went on to elaborate on various ideas preoccupying his mind.

Both you and Shunsui like to call these moments “Junshiro loving hours”. A time in which you both comfortably enjoy his presence together, occasionally giving content looks to each other. Junshiro rarely notices you with how captured he is by his own discussion, but at last, he seems to have figured out your little activity.

“You’re both just silently staring at me.” He states plainly, still clueless.

“Not in a negative way.” the brunette hums, a little amused with the lack of observation from Junshiro’s side. He turns his head to look at you as you give him a wide grin that shows how equally thrilled you are.

It’s a little precious that he can’t tell that all you’re doing is adoring him.

“Then in what way?” His genuine curiosity makes you wonder how he can’t figure out what you’re doing. Perhaps it’s because of the looks on your faces, they probably don’t look as soft as you both think.

Both of you allow for a brief moment of silence, but you can’t bear to leave him in the dark with the way he’s glancing at you. You slowly raise your body and walk to him, placing a loving hand against the skin of his jawline. The little gesture gets a gasp out of him, making him melt into your touch. Shunsui on the other hand waits in the same position, chuckling as he eyes you both.

“We’re just admiring you, you silly goose.” you enlighten him, drawing soft circles with the pad of your index. “Haven’t you heard of lovingly gazing at your significant other?” The hint of teasing in your voice sends shivers down his body.

“Oh, ahh, I didn’t notice.” He replies shortly, reaching to scratch his neck.

“Why else would we give you big idiot smiles, eeeh?” Shunsui purrs. “You handsome thing.”

He is quick to follow after you, pushing himself to get up on his legs and approach Junshiro alongside you. One of his hands wraps around your waist while the other binds to Junshiro’s, getting a faint reaction of pleased surprise out of him. He pulls you both against his chest, holding you close to feel yourbits of warmth.

Being faced with these circumstances, Junshiro shakes his head wryly, only now grasping the situation he’s in. Your stares gain a new meaning now that he thinks about it. He didn’t even do much, just ramble about his things like usual, but he welcomes your kind thoughts with open arms. Though, he can’t help but wonder, what made you suddenly feel like this?

He means to question you but you absorb his curiosity just by looking into his eyes, cutting him off right when he opens his mouth by placing a finger on his lips.

“I mean, how can we not look at you when you’re this precious?” You further trace it to his cheeks, rubbing him firmly while you place soft kisses after each touch. “You’re so adorable when you talk about your favorite things..”

“Don’t forget the tiny hand motions he does, Y/N,” Shunsui exclaims, cherishing the fresh image inside his he kisses Junshiro’s other cheek, then locks his gaze on him so he can enjoy the glimmer of astonishment in his eyes. “You ought to love it when he moves his hands while he talks like that.” He twists his head to look at you, eyes widening as you both fuel each other to ponder on all the things you love about your beloved.

“Oh god, absolutely. But did you notice when he fiddled with his fingers, hmmm?” You playfully test him.

Shunsui hums in amusement. “I can’t believe you think I’d miss tiny details. Of course, I did! There's no way I would break the rules.” he clamors, pouting at you while he tugs Junshiro closer.

On the other hand, Junshiro stares at you both, dazzled by the abundance of soft praise. He indulges himself in your affection so much that he holds hushed, smiling extensively as a smooth tint of rosy pink flushes his cheeks.

Maybe it’s the weight of your words that makes him so undeniably loved, but it’s what he deserves. He has to know he’s treasured by you and Shunsui, even if it means it’ll overwhelm him a little. In the same way, you're both deserving of equal treatment. He can't just stay there and not send waves of appreciation and love to you too.

“I love you two so much.” he mouths softly, snatching both your attentions with kisses returned to your cheeks as he holds you both dearly.

[quicktosimp]

Happily Ever After

Kinktober Day 03 - Thigh Riding

A/N: I do not know what I did with this... I may have gone off the rails a bit... Anyway, if your doctors says no sex, then don't do what these two did.

Warnings: 18+, thigh riding, pregnancy kink, praise kink, lactation kink, slight mommy kink, brief mentions of past torture, mentions of slavery, aged up

Thank you @pandoraslxna for putting this together for all of us 💕

Spider and I did not meet under the best conditions. When the recom team kidnapped him, I was an unwilling scientist for the RDA. My parents had betrayed the RDA and joined the na’vi; both of them had passed in the great battle, their lab having been compromised, leaking the toxic air into the lab, killing them before they could get a mask on. I had been left on earth when my parents went to Pandora; when the RDA learned of me, they decided I would replace them as payment for their transgressions. When they found me, I was working on my Ph.D. in biological engineering, perfect for what the RDA wanted me to do. While the recom team was working, making avatars is expensive, so they wanted me to create a device, chemical compound, or anything as long as it would allow humans to breathe Pandora's air. 

After failing to make Spider talk, they made me use him as a live experiment. Every now and then, Quaritch would take him out, but General Ardmore, would always make him return for a new round of tests. Initially, he hated me, and I didn’t blame him. Once he realized that the throat com on me doubled as a shock collar, we got along swimmingly. While I worked, he would teach me everything about Pandora, from the land, the people, the language, and even his family. I always wished I could see the outdoors, but I was not even allowed near any windows until Spider got smart; he mentioned that Pandora might have materials that could further my research while General Ardmore was lurking nearby. Leading to me being brought on a new trip with Spider and the recom team. Z-Dog had to pull me back so I wouldn’t fall out of the chopper while looking at the scenery. It ended up being Spider pulling me back and sitting me on his thigh that, got me to sit still. But that was more due to the situation: his muscular thigh between my legs, the thrum of the chopper, rocking back and forth. I refused to say anything about it; being in a helicopter full of people killed whatever libido I had, but it definitely put ideas in my mind. 

At the Tulkun hunting ship, they gave a lab to work at, with quotas to meet. Quaritch now holds the remote to my shock collar but doesn’t like using it. He looks at it like it like someone handed him ikran dung. He’s never once used it on me. He didn’t like the fact that I was still a teen when I was forced to work for them and that I was still in slavery. Apparently, slavery is where Quaritch draws the line. But it works in my favor.

When the skirmish happened, Spider used the chaos to run to steal the remote and free me. The two of us joined the Sully family on the boat; after making sure that all 6 of us were there, we ran. When Lo’ak grabbed the machine gun, I took it from him, covering them as they jumped ship. I knew to cover my head and chest, and I ended up with a bullet through my arm. Thankfully, the lot of us got out with minimal injuries. And a huge thank you to Tuk, Lo’ak, and Neteyam; Neytiri would have killed me on the spot if it weren't for them speaking for me. But taking a bullet for her children seemed to help the situation, and then when she heard of how I was a slave to the RDA, she began to like me. The leaders of the Metkayina, Tonowari and Ronal, were skeptical of Spider and I’s presence but gave us a chance to prove ourselves.

Here we are years later. Spider and I have our own marui pod and are expecting our first child. We have never been more excited. Jake, who had taken over and became a proper dad to Spider, could be heard saying that he’s not ready to be a grandfather, and Neytiri has been a blessing to me. Excited for her first grandchild, she helped prepare everything and answered my questions. Now, at 38 weeks pregnant, I am not doing much. I mostly weave baskets or make jewelry, and I cannot do much else. The Metkayina believe that a pregnant woman is already doing the most critical job for the clan. Thus, I am not given any jobs, leaving me to my thoughts. As I watch my husband working on repairing the nets, crafting new spears, and whatever menial task they can give him that keeps him close to me. I watch his muscular back flex as sweat ripples down from the heat of the Metkayina sun. I feel the heat travel lower, needing attention there. However, Ronal put me on a sex bain, and now Spider refuses to do anything remotely sexy with me, and I cannot take it into my own hands with my stomach in the way; while I could technically do it, the odd angle and weird stretch becomes old quickly. But maybe he'll be interested if it's not penetration; Ronal only said no to sex.

“Sipder! Will you come here, please?” 

I watch as he turns to look at me, abandoning his work as he jogs to me, “What is it, Love? Do you need something?” He asked, sweat trickling down his chest, falling until it absorbed into his Tewng.

“I need you. Now.” I stated bluntly.

An exasperated look crossed his face, “Babe, you heard what Ronal said. No sex right now; it could make the baby come early. I want you to, babe, but we can’t risk it right now.”, he brings me into his arms.

I look at his face with a coy smile, “But what if we don't have sex? We don’t have to have penetration; there are other things we can do,” I bargained, “There has been an idea that I’ve had for a while now…” I trialed off.

This seemed to perk his interest, “Like what? Sex only counts if it's penetration, so I'm up for anything. What’s your idea, babe?” 

My face turns crimson as I say, “I wanna ride your thigh.” my hands cover my face. 

His brow furrows, “How would that feel good for you? It’s my thigh?” He questioned.

“When I sat on your lap in the chopper, It felt really good, and now I want to actually try it,” I explained earnestly. 

“Okay, let's try it! Where do you want me to sit?” He grabs my arms, easing me to stand. 

Giddy, as I finally get to try something that will ease the ache between my legs, I start to pull him along. Sitting him on our sleeping mat, I place my hands on his shoulders, “Will you take them off, please?” I feel his hands rub my hips underneath my stomach as he unties my skirt. Once my skirt is off, his hands are back on me, easing my panties off, already wet from my earlier thoughts. 

“Babe, you’re already this wet? Poor girl, you really do need this?” He teases.

“Yes, Spider, I’ve been begging for over a week now,” I whine.

Spider places a small kiss on my clit, before he helps me down to his thigh. As I straddled his thigh, I felt every ridge of muscle underneath me. 

Spider rests his hands on my waist, “Does this feel okay? Do you want to try a different position?” 

I shifted a bit and got comfortable, “No, this is perfect,” I smiled at him, “Thank you, Love.”

Spider smiled at me, “I will do anything to help you.” he brought his face to mine, kissing my lips. He brings me even closer, his hand cradling my head. His tongue brushed against my lips, and I eagerly opened my mouth for him. Our tongues met and danced, neither caring for dominance. 

As we kiss, Spider's arm that was still around me pulls me closer and then pulls me away. Grinding my cunt against his thigh, my clit rubbing against each rigid. I gasp into his mouth as he pulls me back and forth again. I can feel Spider’s leg become wet from the stickiness between my thighs. Making my glide easier. 

I start to pant, the constant pleasure and movement making me lose my breath, but I can’t stop; it's like my hips have a mind of their own. Spider releases my lips, a string of saliva connecting us. He attaches himself to my neck, biting at my flesh until it bruises. Marking me for everyone to see. As he released my neck, he stared at my breasts, “Can I try something?” He asked. I nodded my head, trusting him and his wish. 

He latches onto my nipple and sucks hard. A squeal left my lips, my nipples were sensitive, and my breasts were tender from holding milk. Spider sucks, nibbles, and licks as I ride his thigh, chasing my high. You could hear the sounds of my slick rubbing against his thigh, the wet noise echoing against the walls of our marui, but now I also heard gulping. I look down to meet Spider’s eyes as he swallows my milk. I moan at the sight; seeing my husband drinking my milk and relieving the built-up pressure was a new relief for me. The ache in my breast releasing, and the pleasure of Spdier playing with my breast. My cunt throbbed with pleasure as this continued. Soon, my breast was empty, and he went to the other one, giving it the same treatment. 

“Spider, please, it's so good. Please, more!” I begged as my hips sped up. 

Spider’s hands traveled down and held onto my ass, helping me grind better. He moved this thigh with my movements, feeling his leg flex, helping me reach my climax. Letting go of my bruised nipple, he asks, “Do you want to cum for me? You’ve already been so good, carrying our baby, being such a good Mama,” His mouth dripped milk down his chin and past his chest, “You can cum, Mama, cum like the good girl you are.” With that, he bit my nipple and pulled hard. I screamed as I came, my back bowed into an arch. My wetness released all over our marui floor, more than I had cum before. 

Spider’s arms wrapped around me, holding me close. He played with my hair, kissing the top of my scalp, whispering, “You did such a good job. You tasted so good for me. I love you so much, mama.” He did this until I stopped twitching. Only then did he go get a clean rag to wash me up. As he cleaned me, he gave small pecks to my stomach, down low, right where the baby’s head is. As he finished, he laid down with me for a nap. Neither of us realized that this would be the last decent sleep the two of us would get for a while. 

[nervouslaughter05]

Chapter 6: Shots Fired

A/N: HELLOOOOOOOO I have settled into my new workplace (mostly) and am happy to say I'm getting married in a little over a week! With some newfound free time I'm finding myself to have, I have rediscovered my life of writing! I'm very happy to present the next chapter. I did my best to proofread it, but I'm sure there's still weird language/grammar in it. As always, please heed the content warnings and enjoy! CW: Canon-typical violence, language, mentions of killing

Come yell at me on Twitter @vegas719 and my art insta @timetoart05

Grizzly was second to last in the group, Gaz behind her. Price was up front, leading the team through the woods to the assigned pickup point. While she had been asleep, they’d managed to radio back into base and get in contact with the remainder of the team there. The man who’d given them their brief, some high ranking officer her sleep-deprived brain couldn’t remember, had been absolutely livid when they made contact and reported the death of the other team. She suspected it was less anger and more grief, as it would have been for Price had he found out that the lot of them had died on a mission. 

Once again, she’s reminded of just how fragile her very existence was, seemingly held above a floor covered in bubbling lava and sharp rocks by a thin string threatening to snap at any moment.

The woods around them were filled with life, birds chirping happily away and insects buzzing somewhere off to her right. Very likely given the lay of the land there was a small stream somewhere, tucked away. She would’ve loved to explore the area if they were there under different circumstances. However, they were all trudging through the undergrowth holding various forms of weaponry on the lookout for an organization bent on killing them.

So yeah, Grizzly was probably gonna pass on the casual stroll through the grass for today.

The med bag on her back was cumbersome, the bottom of it smacking against her tailbone with each step instead of fitting nicely into her lower back like the one back home did. Unfortunately, there was only so much gear she could bring with her, and the custom fitted pack her marines had gifted to her wasn’t part of the list. She’d taken some pain killers a couple hours ago, but they weren’t strong enough to fully rid her of the pain from her wounds. She was saving that for the rest of the team in case shit hit the fan again. 

“So you and Lt were fending alone in the safehouse while we were gone eh?” Soap asks from in front of her. “Can’t imagine being alone with him for that long. Drove me mad in Las Alamas, and half of that was with him just in my ears.”

She snorts, remembering that entire situation. Granted, she’d been unconscious for the first hour or so from the blow to her head–which when she thought about it needed a concussion exam that she never received–but had still been awake for a good majority of what had happened. Graves had betrayed them and in the fight that ensued, a shadow had decided to whack the back of her head with the butt of his rifle and try to take her hostage like they did Alejandro. Ghost had carried her out of the line of fire while Soap had fled injured. She tries not to think about that night too often.

“Put aside the bad dad jokes and he’s really not that bad to be around,” Grizzly replies, adjusting the straps of her bag on her shoulders for the hundredth time while they had been walking.

“Lunatics the both of ya,” he says and she just chuckles.

Gaz pipes up from behind her, asking, “What did the two of you get up to while the rest of us were making our way to you?”

Grizzly shrugs, acting very nonchalant about the entire thing. She was definitely going to leave out how she’d almost died out there if it hadn’t been for the lieutenant’s help–at least until they got to the evac. Knowing that taking too long to answer would make them suspect something, she just tells them a quick version of what happened. She also was going to leave out the exchange she’d had with Ghost following her inability to sleep.

“Ghost and I had a mild run-in on the way to the safehouse, but other than that it was just us standing watch and waiting for all of you to show up.”

Soap turns his head to look back at her, likely to ask about the “mild run-in” they’d had. There’s a sudden commotion off to their left and all of them are instantly leveling their weapons at the source of the noise. She sees Ghost and Price swap looks out of the corner of her eye and she braces for the next move.

A racoon–the same fat and lazy one from earlier–literally <i>rolls</i> his fat little–

‘Well maybe not so little.’ 

-Ass from a clump of shrubbery. 

“Right,” Price says after a moment. “Carry on lads. It’s just a-fuck!”

A bullet whizzed past his head, lodging into the tree behind him. 

“Get down!”

Grizzly had dropped the second a bullet had fired, low crawling to a spot of cover. Soap and Gaz both join her after a few seconds, and then Ghost and Price after them. 

Ghost was already set to go, his rifle set up in its proper position with Soap doing the same. She was mentally cataloging the medical supplies left in her bag. Grizzly knew her current stash was lower than what she needed, purely because this mission was only supposed to be a day at most and had turned into almost three at this point. While she would normally pack extras given the lessons learned in her days as a marine doc, that didn’t mean it was enough for the potential injuries from a conflict like this. 

There’s no further shots fired, the woods around them deathly still. The birds had stopped chirping–how long had they been quiet?–and upon quick inspection of their surroundings the racoon had made it to safety. Funny how she felt relief over a random animal not being shot. 

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap mutters under his breath. “Damn bastards just can’t die.”

Grizzly grimaces. “American’s are a bit like cockroaches–even if you cut off our heads we still keep squirming for a while.”

“Wouldn’t a chicken that’s lost its head be more accurate, eh?” he counters.

“Now is not the time,” Ghost barks at them, and Gaz snickers. “Eyes sharp.”

It’s a moment before anything happens, but there’s a spattering of gunfire that sounds off above their heads. Grizzly recognizes the use of assault rifles from the sound. All of them stay hunkered down behind their cover, which was a fallen log and some rock clusters.

“Your teams have made some <i>big</i> trouble for me,” a voice informs them, deep with a slight southern tinge to it. “I’ve been operating for years with no trouble and all of the sudden some big bad english men dressed in fancy military uniforms wanna put an end to it? I don’t think so, buddy. Bless your bleeding hearts for wanting to help the greater cause, but y’all need to get the fuck out of my business before I make things difficult.”

‘What the fuck?’ she mouths to Soap as the man speaks.

“What? Are y’all deaf now too? My boys blow out your eardrums? Answer me,” the man demands, and she’s reminded faintly of the stereotypical abusive father you’d see in movies. Oops.

“It’s nothin’ personal lads,” Price calls out from behind their shelter and she almost laughs at how ridiculous this whole situation was. “Just conducting our own business. Same as you. Gotta make a paycheck somehow.”

The man chuckles. “Damn right. However, I don’t work for the government, Captain John Price.”

She goes stiff. This fucker knew who Price was? How the actual fuck-

“Yes, I know who you  are, Captain,” he tells them, sounding like a mother consoling a distraught child. “Just like you Captain, I’m a businessman. And like any good businessman I always look at any roadblocks I may face.”

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” Soap curses under his breath. “How the fuck did this bastard find out who Price is?”

“And it’s not just you, Captain. I know you have Lieutenant Simon Riley, Sergeants Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick and John ‘Soap’ Mactavish, and your wonderful medic– Petty Officer First Class Katelyn Ard. Am I missing anyone?” he continues, seeming all too pleased with himself.

His voice reminded her of the Lofthouse cookies back in the states with that frosting so sweet that it would make your stomach churn.

“You seem to be an educated man,” Price says. “And a reasonable one. Could we chat about this?”

“I’m afraid y’all lost the right to a casual ‘chat’ about this with me when you entered my facility and killed my men. So, please understand that what I do is nothing personal,” the man replies, and she hears several pairs of footsteps approaching them. “It’s just business.”

Men come around the sides of their cover, leveling the barrels of their weapons at them. Gaz reacts instantly, putting a bullet through the skull of the guy closest to them while Ghost and Price are doing the same. Soap, herself, and Price all pop up over the cover they’re behind, firing at the man and the men he’d brought with him. 

He was tall and broad, face covered in the shadow from his felt cowboy hat. He was well-dressed too, a show of his wealth from the various trafficking operations he ran. She doesn’t have a chance to process what he looks like much more before she’s firing off bullets in his direction along with that of his companions. Another man drops from where he’d taken cover behind a tree, blood pooling from the hole in his forehead. Grizzly drops down, reloading a fresh magazine in before popping back up. 

“Pull back!” the boss calls out over the sound of gunfire. “I’m not gonna lose more men to these fuckin’ Brits!”

The men began to retreat, firing off shots behind them so they couldn’t pursue too closely if at all. 

“Hold your fire,” Price orders, voice sharp. “We need to get the hell out of here and reapproach this later.”

“Price we cannae let this chance get away from us!” Soap protests. 

Gaz chimes in. “We don’t know when we’ll be able to come back-if at all.”

The captain shushes them, not wanting to hear any form of argument. Soap and Gaz deflate, the former of the two pouting over it. They stay on the defensive for a while–Grizzly doesn’t keep track exactly how long–before Price gives them the okay to get up and start moving again. This time, they move with a different speed than they had before, wanting to get out of these woods and back to base to avoid another confrontation like what they’d just had. Ammo was valuable and medical supplies as well, both of which they were burning through like it like a fire on dry grass. 

Price radioed back into the unit receiving them from the base, giving very light details about what had happened and confirming pickup.

It’s another 30 minutes or so before they get to the evac point, now just waiting for the humvees to roll up and take them back to base. The vehicles appear very soon after their arrival, one full of an additional support team should the need arise and the other empty for them to load up into. Grizzly gets in last, looking through her med bag as they start rolling back to base. The entire time she’s going through her bag, she’s thinking of that soldier she’d tried to save. Soap had told her that in the firefight that had split all of them up, he’d been shot again several times. One of the bullet wounds had cut open his carotid artery and the Scot had been able to do nothing except hold the dying man and try to give him some peace in his last moments. 

The knowledge destroyed her inside, but the pain from the loss got locked up into that box inside of her mind for the deaths of the men she served with. There were many lives inside there. Grizzly refused to let them out however–that would require a therapist, straight tequila, or a heartfelt conversation with her coworkers she knew would never happen.

00000

The team had all come back to base and gotten through the mission debrief, being sent off to medical for their injuries. The medical staff there had been surprised at Grizzly’s work. They’d complimented her on the stitches she’d placed, something she’d gotten experience in from her time out in the field. She just accepted the compliments without much thought and remained silent for most of their care to her. She really only spoke up when necessary to point out areas that were in pain or her own observations to the injured parts of her body.

After being discharged, Grizzly makes her way back to the main bay, flopping into her rack with a huff. Ghost was already back, having been discharged before them from the lack of sustained injuries. Price had to go off and handle business with the man who’d conducted their brief and also Laswell to reevaluate their steps going forward. Soap and Gaz went to grab some food from the mess hall, so they’d probably be gone for a while. 

All she wanted to do was sleep, not even that hungry despite a lack of food for the last almost 48 hours. 

“You should eat.”

‘‘’M tired,’’ she replies, voice muffled from how her face is pressed into her pillow. “Don’t feel like getting up.”

Ghost scoffs softly and she hears some light rustling before something is placed next to her head. Grizzly lifts up her head and sees a small styrofoam container that was hot to the touch. She raises an eyebrow looking at the lieutenant. 

“What’s this?” she asks as she sits up and sits cross legged with her back on the wall her rack was pushed against.

“Food,” he replies, like that wasn’t obvious. “Figured you wouldn’t want to grab anythin’, so I stopped by on my way back.”

Something weird and fluttery unfurls in her gut, but she shoves it down. “Thank you.”

He simply gives a gruff “Don’ mention it” and settles into his own rack–the one coincidentally next to hers on his back. His back is against the rails at the head of the mattress, most of his gear discarded next to his bunk much like she was about to do. The only thing left on him was the skull mask, his cargos and boots, and a black long sleeve. The fabric was stretched across his chest and torso, showing just how big he was even without all of his bulky gear. 

Grizzly goes through the process of removing all of her own gear, tac vest thumping on the ground and her weapons into the locker beneath her bed provided to each member of her team. Her boots are the last to come off, laying off to the side neatly as she leans back against the wall and opens the container. Her mouth waters, the smell of veggies and meat filling her nose. 

Fuck she missed having actually good food from the mess. 

Digging in, Grizzly mulls over the results of their mission in her head. She replays everything over in her head in an attempt to try and make sense of the shitshow they’d been thrown into on this mission. That man had known who they all were somehow, and she wanted to know how and, most importantly, why. She knew that there were people out there that would want to harm them purely for their affiliation with the military, but none had ever gone so far as to get their names. Frankly, no one was able to access that information either with how many passwords it would take to find their files. 

That in turn begs the question of who gave them that access.

“Get ready to head back to the states,” Ghost tells her, voice cutting through her thoughts. “We’re not likely to stay. Not after what happened out there.”

She almost chokes on her next bite of food, swallowing and looking up at her lieutenant suddenly. “What?”

“We’re wasting time and resources being here. It’s a bigger risk for us to stay than it is to go at this point.”

Grizzly finishes her last mouthful. “Those bastards know who we are, Ghost. Anyone we may know is at risk. Our families are at risk.”

“If he had wanted your families dead, then he would’ve already handled the problem.”

“Not necessarily,” she counters, suddenly feeling anxious. “He could be waiting for us to come back to the states or try to contact our families in some way. For all we know our families could have been already getting monitored without our knowledge of it.”

“Your families are fine,” Ghost tells her, and her worry-ridden mind barely processes his tone of voice before she’s carrying on. 

“But-”

“Your families are fine,” Ghost repeats, voice much firmer this time.

It was at that moment she remembers that the man never talks about his family…ever and worries that she may have struck a nerve. So, in place of trying to dig for what had made his voice so hard, she simply nods her head and falls silent. It was much easier than trying to unwrap the mystery that was Ghost. 

It’s silent for a while, and Grizzly worries she may have upset her lieutenant. 

“Get some rest,” he tells her right as she begins to worry he was plotting her murder. “I’ll wake ya if anything happens.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The exhaustion weighing down her bones makes itself known again, and she doesn’t fight his suggestion. Instead, she slips under the thin sheet and scratchy blanket issued upon her arrival here. Her body relaxes damn near instantly, melting into the mattress. Grizzly settles with her back to the wall so she could roll out of her rack faster should there be a need for such. 

With her eyelids being pulled down by fatigue, she fights off unconsciousness long enough to murmur, “Try to get some sleep too, Ghost.”

Not expecting a response, she lets herself drift off.

A/N: Me talking about the slow burn: "I've connected the dots" My friend: "You haven't connected shit" Me: "I've connected them"

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Plastic Hearts

Chapter One: Plastic Hearts Are Bleeding

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!oc (violet apollo)

chapter rating: M (hangovers/symptoms that come with, fake relationships, age gap (15 years), alcohol consumption/weed use, talk of sexual desire)

word count: 3.2k

series masterlist | series playlist

“Would you like some water while you wait, sir?” The young man tasked with catering to the lucrative Hollywood agency’s talent’s needs stood in front of a very hungover Dieter Bravo, the actor rubbing at his collarbone underneath the linen of his mostly open button-down.

“Do you have gin?” Dieter asked with a grimace, his head aching at being forced to operate outside of it’s preferred hours.

“N-no, sir.”

“Whiskey?” He asked again, this time with more desperation. The young man shook his head. “Vodka? Beer? Fucking wine? Anything?”

“No, sir. Just water—sparkling or still.” Dieter could see that the young man was more than nervous, the remaining bits of sympathy in his heart making him feel sorry for the kid.

“It’s alright. I’m fine.”

The young man left the office in a hurry, his cheap cologne hitting Dieter’s nose on the way out causing his stomach to churn. He placed his hand over his mouth, trying to swallow his nausea down, but it was to no avail. Standing up, he rushed over to the small garbage can sat by his agent’s desk, throwing up the rest of the alcohol and greasy take-out from the night (or morning, more accurately) prior.

“Dieter,” his agent, Mr. McAddams, walked in as Dieter stood vomiting, a sigh leaving his lips at the sight. “Jesus Christ, it’s nine in the morning.”

“That’s when hangovers usually happen, don’t they?” Dieter wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt before sitting back down in the uncomfortable but stylish chair in front of Mr. McAddams desk.

“I suppose you’re right.” Mr. McAddams reopened his office door and shouted for his assistant to page janitorial services before walking back in. “Celebrating the new role, I assume?”

“Sure,” Dieter chided unenthusiastically, sliding his shades up the bridge of his nose.

“Andrea and Linda running late?” Mr. McAddams referred to Dieter’s manager and publicist, Dieter shrugging.

“It‘s their job to know where I’m at. Not the other way around.”

“I suppose you’re right about that, too.” The poised man chuckled and sat down at his desk.

“Sorry, traffic held us up,” Andrea, his manager, rushed into the room with his publicist, Linda in tow, both grimacing at the smell of vomit lingering in the room.

“Jesus,” Linda groaned, pinching her nose. “Did something die in here?”

“Just my spirit,” Dieter mumbled to himself, mostly kidding. Mostly.

“The janitor will be here soon. Shall we get started? We’ve got a lot to cover this morning and, I think it’s clear none of us want to be here longer than necessary.” Mr. McAddams was always straight to the point—no bullshit, just the way Dieter liked things.

His entire team, in fact, was hand selected over years and years of dealing with the most insufferable, two-faced, Hollywood clowns. Now that he was one of the best known names in the industry, he had the pick of the litter, and he chose people that he knew could not only handle his success, but also his failures.

Andrea Ramone was the best manager in America, hands down. She was a fucking human, not some robot trained to run on efficiency and productivity, though she didn’t lack on either of those qualities. She saw Dieter through more bullshit than anyone else in his life, and although the two had a brief fling a few years back that complicated their friendship for a while, she still was one of Dieter’s most trusted companions.

Linda Mendoza was an excellent publicist, especially for someone so drawn to making headlines like Dieter Bravo. She knew how to spin his shit into fucking gold and did it without anyone batting an eye. She was ruthless but empathetic, determined but forgiving, creative but rational. Dieter knew that as long as his career was in her hands, nothing would happen to his public image that she couldn’t save.

“Alright, Dieter,” Linda began with a sigh. “As you know, you’ve made a few headlines recently for your flings with a certain 20 year-old model—“

“21, I’m pretty sure,” Dieter interjected, slumped in his chair and looking out of the large floor to ceiling windows, appearing to be off in a daydream but he was very much paying attention.

“Fine—21.” Linda corrected herself before continuing. “Regardless, the public has never looked at you as more of a…how do I want to phrase this? Um…a douchebag.”

“Huh?” Dieter turned to her, his sunglasses slipping to the tip of his nose as he looked over the rim at her.

“Everyone looks at you like some 40 year-old megastar that has nothing better to do these days than chase around models half your age and star in shitty action flicks, Dieter.” Dieter looked to each person on his team, all nodding their heads at him. “You used to be known for your work, but now…you’re just another middle aged slut.”

“I can’t be both?” Dieter asked, none of them laughing along with his joke. “Fine. What do you suggest we do about this, Linda?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Andrea warned, Dieter quirking an eyebrow at her.

“I know you said you wouldn’t do a PR relationship again after the disaster that was you and Scarlet Johansson—“

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, sinking further into his chair. “What beautiful but prudish starlet are you trying to pair me up with now?”

“Violet Apollo.” Mr. McAddams spoke up, Dieter’s brows furrowing as he tried to place the actress in his head. “She’s the star of Spielberg’s newest project. Her team approached my firm asking if they had anyone that could potentially boost her status a bit to seal in her Oscar nom, and frankly, there’s a hundred better men than you but no one more famous or better at the job.”

“Violet Apollo,” Dieter mumbled to himself as he pulled out his phone and googled her, his eyebrows lifting at the sight of a very attractive young woman on his screen.

Her hair was dark, her skin golden brown as though she was permanently on vacation. Her eyes drew him in, deep brown and speckled with threads of gold that you could only see if you were focused on them. When he scrolled to some red carpet photos, he saw her at the Cannes Film Festival, her body curvier than he would’ve guessed from her headshots. She wasn’t bone-skinny like most of the women in this industry had been bullied into, though she was far from heavy-set—not that Dieter ever minded that. He loved all women of all sizes all the time. Her body curved in all the right places, and he could tell from the right dress in the photo that she carried the perfect amount of plushness in her belly and thighs—two things that always made him go wild.

“She’s very well liked on the internet. She’s in her mid-twenties, so she’s got the perfect audience for you to reach—an audience that you don’t have at all right now.” Dieter locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket before looking up at Linda. “She’s a good girl, and she’s successful and talented. I think she could really do a lot for your image, and you need it now that you landed this Scorsese project.”

“Fine, sure.” Dieter shrugged. At the very least, he’d be seen with a beautiful woman and have his public image restored. Where was the loosing in that? “Set up a meeting or whatever and I’ll show up.”

“Fantastic,” Mr. McAddams clapped his hands together as though to end that topic entirely.

The rest of the meeting went by painfully slowly, Dieter’s list of upcoming appearances and press obligations being scheduled along with meetings with producers and directors for a few potential projects. He only paid as much attention as he had to, his mind a bit sidetracked at the thought of getting into another PR relationship.

The first one had been a nightmare—though, to be fair, that was ten years ago. Still, everything about the whole fake relationship shit remained the same. He’d have to attend pointless fucking events, show PDA, go on “intimate” date nights in public with planned paparazzi photo ops—basically having to give his entire freedom up in order to effectively fool the general public into thinking he was head over heels in love with a woman he hardly even knew.

But maybe it could be different this time. Maybe he could actually get to know his fake partner, and maybe the two would get along so swimmingly that their fake romance would blossom into something real and beautiful and lasting.

Yeah fucking right.

•••

“My life is over.”

Violet Apollo was drunk in her bathtub, a champagne flute in one hand and a joint in the other. Her assistant, Lucy, was sat on the closed toilet lid shaking a bottle of advil at her.

“Your life is not over, but it will be if you don’t hand me the alcohol and take these fucking pills,” she ordered with a snap of her finger, watching as her starlet friend sank down into the water dramatically. Lucy stood up and walked over, plucking the champagne from her hand before yanking her head out of the water so that she wouldn’t drown herself. “Get ahold of yourself, woman!”

“Oh, you try getting dumped via email and then you can tell me I’m overreacting!” She shouted in a drunken mumble, Lucy taking a few of the advil to alleviate the headache her employer was causing. “I just thought we really had something, you know?”

“You did have something. Chlamydia, remember? That STD he gave you?” Violet sunk down into the water again, Lucy sighing at the sight before feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. Sliding the green button, she accepted the call from Violet’s publicist. “Hey, Maria.”

“Tell Maria my life is over,” Violet grumbled as she surfaced again just to take a hit off her joint.

“Tonight? She’s a little…under the weather right now, but I suppose I can have her fixed up by eight? Alright, bye.” Lucy hung up the call and let out a yell into the bathroom, Violet halting her theatrics to stare at her. “I need you to get fucking sober and I need it to happen in the next three hours. Okay? Okay.”

“What’s happening?” Violet asked as Lucy manhandled her out of the bathtub and into her robe, walking her to her bed. She laid sprawled out on her duvet, watching her assistant as she buzzed between her closet and the bedroom gathering different outfit options. “Ugh, god. Am I going to have to leave the fucking house tonight?”

“Yes,” she groaned as she laid out three pairs of shoes for the actress to pick from. “You remember how they were trying to set you up with someone?”

“Yes, the fake relationship that I very much did not agree to—“

“Yeah, that.” Lucy opened a pack of makeup wipes and walked over to Violet, her makeup smeared all over her face. She wiped all the evidence of her shitty day off as she continued. “You’re having dinner with Dieter Bravo tonight.”

“Dieter Bravo?” She sprang back to life, sitting upright and glaring at her assistant. “Dieter fucking Bravo? Isn’t he a bit rough around the edges? How is that supposed to bring me good publicity?”

“I don’t think it is. I mean, you’re fine on that front. What you need is someone that’s going to make you seem interesting,” Violet narrowed her eyes at her friend. “No offense. You’re well liked and obviously talented, but…there’s nothing about you that makes you stand out. You don’t make headlines, you don’t have anything going on really besides work. And trust me, I know you’re an interesting trainwreck but the average person just sees you as a beautiful bore! Dieter is the perfect guy to fix that.”

“Isn’t he like…an asshole, though?” Violet accepted the advil and water that Lucy handed her, chugging down the entire glass.

“Maybe that’s just his public persona,” she shrugged, moving over to the clothing laid out on Violet’s bed, lifting up an olive green mini-dress. “Okay, what do we think?”

“Am I trying to get fingered under the fucking table tonight, Luce? I’m wearing pants.” Violet stood up and walked over to her speaker, connecting her phone to it and shuffling her pre-date pump up playlist, a Megan Thee Stallion song blasting into the room.

“Jesus,” Lucy winced at the loudness but carried on, pairing a lime green top with a pair of black leather trousers. “This better?”

Violet shook her head and grabbed the trousers. “I like this, but not the stupid fucking shirt. Hold on.”

Violet stumbled into her walk-in closet, pulling a vintage AC/DC t-shirt off the hanger and walking it back to the bed.

“There—that’s what I’m wearing to my fake date. Dieter Bravo can suck it if it’s not fancy enough. I’m in mourning,” she groaned the last word, her hand over her heart.

“Violet, you were dating a NBA player who hasn’t had a minute of game time in three seasons,” Lucy reasoned. “He doesn’t even sit on the bench, Vi. They kept him in the locker room.”

“Still.”

•••

Dieter was sat at a table in the very back of Craig’s—one of Los Angeles’ most popular restaurants amongst the rich and famous, a spot that they would surely be photographed together at. The food there was truthfully pretty meh, especially for how overpriced it all was, but he wasn’t here for pleasure or to enjoy himself—that was waiting for him when he was done at some seedy motel—no, he was here for business. To meet Violet Apollo.

He was dressed casually, the kind of casual only a celebrity could get away with in an establishment like this. He was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, a worn out, one-size-too-big grey button down, it’s top four buttons undone exposing his chest, and a loose pair of black trousers.

Dieter was very content with himself in all his disheveled glory, having built up his confidence through years and years of dating the most beautiful women (and occasionally men). It wasn’t so much his appearance he was worried about tonight, it was his personality.

There was no one more self-aware of their crassness than Dieter Bravo. Everyone seemed to think he was oblivious to his diva tendencies, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He knew exactly how much of a dick he was, but he just couldn’t control it. You’re such an Aquarius, one of his exes told him once—he googled it later on and agreed.

Dieter sat in his anxiety, bouncing his knee and fidgeting with the many rings on his fingers. He’d lost so many friends by being himself over the years, and if he was being honest, he could count the amount of friends he had left in his life on one hand and most of them were on his payroll. He was lonely, and while he knew this likely wasn’t going to end in a successful romance, it could end in friendship.

He wanted it to end in friendship.

“Hey,” his head turned at the sound of a soft voice, one that sounded like it came straight out of the silver screen. He sat up in his chair as he took her in, expecting some sort of dress or trendy outfit but pleased to see her in a band-tee with holes in it. At least she was down to earth.

“Hi,” he stood up and leant his sweaty hand out for her to shake, smiling at her with genuine interest. Her pictures hadn’t done her justice—she was stunning. Her face was round, jaw soft, lips plump, eyes so warm and deep that he felt like he was burning up on the inside just by looking into them. Good thing he called one of his usuals over right before dinner because otherwise he probably would’ve had at least a half-chub just by looking at her. “Violet, right?”

“Yep,” she chuckled and walked over to her seat with a stumble. Dieter’s brow quirked at her as he took off his sunglasses, now noticing her glassy and reddened eyes.

Either she’d been crying or she was fucking gone. No judgement either way.

“So,” she started, reaching for her glass of water. “We just sort of pretend to be together, then? Like a role.”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, peeling his eyes from her and down to the menu in front of him. “Just gotta get method with it.”

“Have you done this before?” He lifted his eyes to hers again, only mildly ashamed by the twitch of his cock it caused.

“Once.” He felt intrigued by this so-called saint of a woman seemingly shit-faced in front of him, trying to make conversation as though she wasn’t. She was a good actress, though, because if he wasn’t looking directly at her, he probably never would have been able to tell. “So what are you fucked up on?”

“Huh? I’m not—“ She reached for her phone, opening the front camera and gasping at the sight of her eyes. “Oh, fuck.”

“Here.” Dieter handed her a bottle of eye drops, Violet giving him a thankful smile before squeezing a few drops in each eye, blinking away the wetness. “Looks better.”

“Thanks, uh, just weed—and champagne, I guess, but that was earlier. It’s been a long day.” Dieter chuckled as he grabbed the tiny bottle from her and stuck it back into his pants.

“What’s driven you to drink?” Dieter sat back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

“You actually want to know?” She asked with a chuckle. Dieter was used to people being shocked when he took initiative to learn about them, but to be fair, it was a rare occurrence. He never liked to get involved with people’s shit unless he could benefit from it or if he trying to figure them out. It was the latter reason tonight.

“Yeah, I mean, if I’m going to be spending time with you I might as well get to know you.”

“Fair point. I, uh, I got dumped by a fucking benchwarmer,” Violet groaned, gesturing for the waiter and ordering a bottle of red wine seemingly just for herself. “Which is embarrassing, so let’s talk about something else. Like…how exactly do we do this thing?”

“Well, we really just go out on these dates where we both make it a point to be seen,” Dieter sat forward as the waiter came back, pouring both of you a glass of the wine before leaving. “And then, I guess as time goes on, we go to events together and shit, until we fake break-up. Essentially it’s how all relationships work in this fucking town.”

“Romantic,” she chided and she downed her glass in one gulp, Dieter’s smile growing as he watched her pour another. “And depressing.”

She’s definitely not the prude he thought she’d be.

“So are we allowed to still fuck people in our own private lives? Because there’s no way I’m going celibate this entire time.” Violet seemed to have zero interest in him, which made his ego ache. With a scorned raise of his eyebrows, he downed his own drink. “Not that I wouldn’t want to with you—not saying I do want to but really, I’ve done worse—I just…if this is going to be a professional thing then we probably shouldn’t mix the two up, you know?”

“Trust me, babe. I get a little too much action to give a fuck whether you’re attracted to me or not. Okay?” There he was—the asshole.

“Understood.” She nodded, turning her eyes down to her menu. Dieter immediately felt that sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach that came right after he’d said something too harsh, his eyes rolling at the thought of already having to apologize.

“But you’re right, no sex is a good idea. Maybe we can be friends that way, you know? So this whole thing isn’t fucking dreadful.” Violet lifted her eyes to his, searching them for a minute.

Dieter suddenly felt anxious again, fearing that somehow she’d see the same time of bad in them that he saw every time he looked in the mirror. But when he saw her lip curl into a half-smile, he didn’t feel so suffocated by his insecurity. Whatever she saw, she seemed to be okay with.

“I think this is going to be fun.” She concluded, eyes falling back to her menu. “Dieter fucking Bravo.”

“Violet fucking Apollo.”

•••

dieter taglist: @browneyes-issac @wildemaven @laureliciousdefinition @trinkets01 @paulalikestuff (please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

[andthatisnotfake]

The drunken love confessions, 15 are obviously stedrika but maybe that's boring...?

No, no, it's perfect!! I've been trying to write a one-shot about them for months now and I just can't seem to make any progress, so this will actually be my first fic about them. :)

15. "I've always loved you. But I will never tell you."

Fredrika sighed as Stella kissed her neck, her body arching in response. Stella's hand was on her thigh and it felt like it was burning her. She put a hand around Stella's waist, pushing her impossibly closer under the covers, only their thin nightshirts between them. She pulled at Stella's hair and Stella groaned, leaving her neck to stare into her eyes for a brief second before their lips met again in a soaring kiss.

They had been drinking some mulled wine from yet another shampoo bottle, having downed all of it by themselves, and they were definitely a little drunk. Maybe a lot drunk. It wasn't the first time they made out while intoxicated, of course. Far from it. It had happened too many times to be a coincidence, definitely past the point where she could still claim they were just friends. She'd pushed those feelings down though, not ready to examine them. She wasn't in love with her best friend; she couldn't be.

Not that there was anything wrong with Stella, of course. She was wonderful. Pretty, and smart, and so much fun to be around. Fredrika adored her, she did. She just wasn't a lesbian. Not that there was anything wrong with being a lesbian, she just... wasn't. She liked men. Definitely. For sure. She was almost positive. She wasn't bi either. She never made out with other girls, it was just Stella. Stella who was so warm, and who smelled so nice, and who kissed her so well... Maybe bi curious? Wasn't that normal? Everyone experiments when they're young, right? That was all this was: experimenting. Still, it had never felt this amazing before. And they'd never gone this far before.

Stella's hand slid higher on her thigh and she gasped. Stella pulled away to look at her with a giggle.

"You're so cute like that."

"What?" She was feeling a bit dizzy, the air between them too warm.

"All flushed like that," Stella explained. "Like a cute little strawberry."

Fredrika snorted. "Wow, you're really drunk aren't you?"

"Straw...be...drika... Straw...drika... Fredriberry... Fre... Wait, I got! Drikaberry!" With that she dissolved into giggles, moving to sit next to Fredrika instead of almost on her lap like she was before.

Fredrika giggled as well, amused at her friend's antics. Stella put her arms around her and kissed the tip of her nose.

"So cute, my Drikaberry, so pretty. You're so pretty, you know? On the inside too. Even more on the inside. You're so... nice. Good. I'm not good like you. I'm all rotten inside."

Fredrika frowned, not liking the sudden change in the mood. Before she could think of anything to say though, Stella continued.

"I'm rotten, but I wish I were good like you. You make me want to be good too. I love you so much."

She laid her head on Fredrika's shoulder, sighing.

"I love you too," she said, leaning her head on top of Stella's.

"No, for real," she yawned. "I like, love you love you. I've always loved you. But I will never tell you."

Fredrika felt suddenly sober again. She froze, her heart hammering away inside her chest.

"What did you just say?" she whispered, almost afraid of asking but needing to know the answer.

"Hm... 'ove you..." Stella burrowed herself deeper around Fredrika's body, an arm over her waist, and started softly snoring.

Fredrika sighed, leaning more comfortably against the pillows and extending her arm to turn off the bedside table lamp. It would be a long time before she actually managed to fall asleep though.

Send me a ship and a number and I'll write you a little something

EDIT: I posted this on AO3

[oyasumi-ashurii]

Okay, so it might be a little hard for me to cohesively put all my thoughts and feelings into why I care so much about Final Fantasy VIII, but because of the 25th anniversary and seeing a lot of you talk about your love of the game I'll try the best I can. So here's my embarrassingly and extremely long personal history with the game and why it will always be my favorite.

Before FF8 I was mostly a Nintendo kid. Mario and Zelda were all I really knew, and as a hyperactive as I was I didn't really have the patience for anything story-heavy that took a lot of reading. Though I did I get a PlayStation later on I hardly bothered with anything other than Spyro or Crash. Anything similar in graphics to FF7 or 8 was mostly foreign to me too, with maybe the closest being my cousin having the first Resident Evil and I was far too young and too scared to bother with anything like that. So you can imagine the complete and utter shock kid me had going to my uncle's and seeing him play FF8 for the first time. I don't think it had been out too long but he was already on disc 3 in Esthar and, bless his soul, he let me play his save for a while. Being able to fly around the map on the Ragnarok?? The realistic proportions and animations in battle?? The absolute BANGER of a soundtrack?! All of it had me excitedly begging my parents to buy me the game. Nine year old me didn't know roman numerals, though, just that it was called Final Fantasy with some weird lettering. I had no idea of Final Fantasy as a series and I didn't know it was the eighth game or that there were eight of them at all. I couldn't remember what the cover looked like either and my uncle not long after that was going through his own personal troubles so I wasn't able to visit or ask him. We didn't have internet at home until the early 2000s (it was AOL dial-up too, jesus, I don't miss that) and my parents were strict about internet use, so I was stuck. My dad did eventually buy me an FF game as a surprise when I was eleven, and lmao can you believe I was genuinely upset because it was Final Fantasy VII?! That being said, I have an INSANE amount of love and respect for 7. Considering how much easier I think the materia system is to understand for newcomers, having it as my first, full FF experience was a bit of a blessing lol. FF7 hit me in a different way than 8 did, and maybe I'll make a post about it sometime.

So other than the brief times on the internet (I was only allowed on for an hour or two before I was kicked off) and reading gaming magazines I had hardly any access or knowledge about FF8 until years later. I knew the characters briefly and read some small stuff here and there about the world, but that was it. Even so, I STILL loved it. I would draw them (I've drawn most of my life, and I still do occasionally as a fun hobby), write about what I thought they were like, so, so much of me embarrassingly obsessing over it and driving my small group of friends in school bonkers (oh lordy I just remembered my preteen username I had used on an FF forum and now I'm cringing.) You get it. So why did I cling to the game so much, even though I barely played it? Why did it mean so much to me? Because around the time I was twelve I was deeply depressed, and throughout my middle school and early high school life video games and their stories were the only joy and comfort I had. I'm not going to go into much detail because it feels too personal to write on tumblr about and I'd rather not think back too much. If you want the gist it was at a moment in time I was mostly on my own. I felt isolated and alone, and due to growing up in and around strict, conservative circles I struggled with feeling far behind my peers, so my personal and school life suffered. Things got better though and I'm happy in my life now, so that's really it.

As I got a little older I had played other FF's and RPGs in between that I also fell in love with (especially Kingdom Hearts) and funnily enough horror games, but I still didn't get my hands on 8 until I got it on my fifteenth birthday and I was over the moon. That night and many nights and weekends after that I played every single bit of that game. I had printed walkthroughs and a guide of the junction system, with overly-detailed notes I had scribbled down and highlighted. I had written down all the rules of triple triad, weapon upgrades, item refinements and what you get from monsters, side-quests, all of it. I had never went all in into a game before, but I did it because I wanted to experience the game that gave preteen me comfort everything it had to offer. And I remember vividly when I finished it I cried until I was almost out of breath.

But you know, I didn't get emotional because of the nostalgic school-like feel and inspired real-world setting, or the overall main plot with magic, sci-fi and sorceresses. It wasn't even the deeply interwoven love stories, the theme of fate or the gameplay either, though I grew to love all of those things dearly with time.

It was because I was a socially-awkward and lonely fifteen year old girl that watched an equally as awkward seventeen year old boy overcome his own deeply-rooted fears and trauma and come out at the end of it all on the path to healing.

And I knew I'd be okay, and ever since then this game has and will always be that reminder and comfort for me.

Thanks for reading.