#I was gonna do this way earlier but motivation wasn't there at the time so

[cartonofcosmiceggs]

Sailing through the Sea of Stars

There's some random space there idk what happened i think I just forgot

[lysil7777]

Yan! Dom! Fem! Reader x Sub! Boy

"P-please just.. just leave me alone!" James whimpered, tears welling up in his brown eyes, cheeks and ears flushing

"Aww what's wrong Jamie? Are you gonna cry? Did I hurt your feelings? Do you need your Mommy? You lean in to bite his ear and then whisper "I could be your mommy~"

Jamie hated himself for being unable to stop the moan that came out when you nipped at his ear and hated himself even more for letting you bully and harass him everyday.

When Jamie started college he swore things would be different from high school, he'd be more social, more motivated, and less shy. But 3 months later and the only person he talked to on a daily basis was you.

The first time you two met was in class, he'd braved up the courage to ask you for a pencil, he didn't really need one but he was trying to get out of his comfort zone.

You obliged but only after teasing him a bit asking what he'd give you in return, he got all embarrassed not knowing how to properly return your banter, and offered to pay you which you found very amusing. After a few more interactions you started to grow very fond of the nerd who sat behind you in Calc and before you knew it he was always on your mind.

The way he'd get embarrassed and look away from you when he didn't know what to say, the nervous habits he had when he was out by himself, how kind he was without anyone noticing, he was your adorable little specimen, for you only. And of course the best part was how naughty he could be, oh he was so innocent at the same time tho. You'd lost count of the number of times you'd watched him through his window, jerking it to soft domme porn, pet play, degradation, and dumbification, he was a pervy little nerd but the shame he felt afterward made you want to climb through his window and show him how much more depraved you were.

"What are you talking about y/n, I'm older than you that doesn't even make sense" he rambled looking anywhere but your eyes that were boring into his skull. God why did you have to be so close, why did you have to smell so good and be so pretty and-

His thoughts were cut off when you grabbed his chin and made him look at you directly

"I just think you're the kind of guy who needs direction, someone to help make those difficult decisions a sweet pet like you can't really decide for themselves, and why should you, that pretty little head of yours shouldn't have to worry about a single thing" you cooed squishing his cheeks together and making his lips push out

"I'm eighteen y/n, I can make my own decisions" Jamie argued or tried to through squished lips

At 5'3" you stood an entire nine inches under Jamie, but that didn't make him feel any less small in your presence

Letting go of his face you took a step back pretending to think for a moment "Alright then, I'll let you choose. Give me your number or get wedgied."

Jamie stood there dumb for a second, pants growing tighter and his skin warmer

"W-what?" He laughed nervously

Pulling his face closer to yours by the collar of his shirt you repeated your earlier statement to him in a slow demeaning manner, as if he was brain dead

"Give me your number or you get boo boo, oh no!" Your lips turned down in faux sadness

Jamie wasn't sure what to make of the situation, you usually weren't this physical with him, he was a little scared but mostly turned on. He didn't want to admit it but he had the teeniest tiniest crush on you and he blamed the stupid porn he'd been watching but he only looked into it because of you!

"I-I don't.." he paused

On one hand, he wanted to give you his number but on the other hand he'd never thought getting wedgied sounded so appealing

"You don't hmm~? Well, that just won't do. What happened to my big tough guy? Who was so strong and independent? Do you know darling? Ah, of course you don't. You're just as clueless as a little puppy dog and as cute as one too <3"

The new nickname shocked Jamie and caused him to audibly gasp, his hard-on fully visible now

"You can't j-just-aghhh"

You gripped him by his hair to cut him off

"Oh is puppy trying to give the orders now? What a silly little mutt you are, you really don't know how this works do you? The tent in your pants suggests otherwise but here you are telling me what I can and can't do with my property"

"I-I'm not yours y/n! A-and I'm not a pervert!!"

That first statement made your blood boil and you didn't even realize that you'd pushed Jamie down to his knees

"A good dog doesn't speak, a good dog gets treats and rewards but you're not being a good dog, Jamie. I know your tiny brain might not have comprehended it yet but you are mine, you're only mine. Who else is gonna talk to such a pervert hm? You were made for me, nobody else should ever see you like this, in fact, nobody ever sees you the way I do."

Before he could get a word out you pinned him to his position by placing your shoe on his clothed dick and reached over him to grab his boxers. Putting pressure on both simultaneously had him squirming and letting out the most sinful moans that made you wanna take him right then and there.

"Y-nnnnnnn" he whined, grinding up to help release some of the tension but each movement made the fabric between his ass more uncomfortable

"Shhh puppy, this is the punishment you've been given, I wouldn't be a very good owner if I didn't discipline my pet, you just gotta learn how to be good for me mkay? Don't you wanna learn how to be good and get rewards and pets and walkies~?"

All the new sensations made Jamie's head spin, his body felt like it was burning up from the inside out, his head was fuzzy, his dick was so much more sensitive than it had ever been while he was touching it and he couldn't place why the slight uncomfortableness of the wedgie made his parts throb even more, the whole situation was so intense poor boy couldn't fully wrap his doggy brain around it.

"I-I'm so close y/nnn, oh godd please, give me more! 'M so closeee" he panted not caring how pathetic he looked

"Already? Such a greedy pup for me hehe~ Have you learned your lesson, Jamie? Do you even deserve to cum against the bottom of my shoe?" You sang in a taunting manner pressing down even harder with your shoe

"I-, aghhhhh ohh yess fuck, YES! I'm yours y/n only yours! Promise! I'll-uggghh I'll be-hah hah- good! Just for you!"

"Atta boy! That wasn't so hard was it pup?" Finally letting go of his underwear you continued to let Jamie grind against your foot until he got to the edge

"M- boutta...cum!!" At this point, Jamie had grabbed your leg, chin resting on your thick thigh, eyes teary and glazed over staring up at you as if you were a goddess

Softly cupping his face you lifted it off your leg and removed any contact from his dick causing him to let out strings of breathy and high-pitched whines

You sat down and pulled him into your lap, gently wiping away the fresh fallen tears off his face

"W-*hiccup*why y/n, was so close...so close"

His protest died down with a stern look from you

"You'll be alright puppy, I promise. I'm gonna take care of you from now on, you are mine after all"

The rest of the evening was spent holding your new puppy, rubbing his tummy and flustering him with all the soft attention you gave him

He couldn't believe he got so lucky as to experience you, and as long as he considers being owned and expected to heed your everyword, he was lucky!

End <3

[audhd-nightwing]

batfam and the JL as incorrect quotes

*in the batmobile*

Robin (12 y/o Dick Grayson): Have I ever told you how much I love you?

Batman: We are not stopping at McDonald's.

Robin: This is bullshit.

***

Tim: I have an idea. It's deceptive and borderline unethical.

Damian: I'm listening.

***

*at a gala*

10 y/o Dick, to Lex: It was nice meeting you!

Bruce: No, it wasn't.

Dick: We hate you!

***

Batman: What's the point of all of this?

Red Hood: Revenge!

Batman: The best revenge is living well.

Red Hood: Well, there's no chance of that.

***

Tim: So, what’s the plan?

Steph: I don’t know. You’re smart, Damian is mean, come up with something.

***

Bruce: YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME!

Clark: Wh-

Bruce: YOU'RE ESSENTIAL TO MY EXISTENCE!

Clark: Why are you screaming?!

Bruce: I HAVE DIFFICULTY EXPRESSING MYSELF! IT HELPS TO SAY SENTIMENTAL THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE TONE!

Clark:

Bruce: I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!!

***

Dick, cradling Wally’s face lovingly: Hey. I spilled superglue on my hands.

***

*at the Watchtower*

Green Lantern (Hal Jordan): Is Batman… laughing?

Flash (Barry Allen): *nods*

Green Lantern: I’ve never been more scared in my life.

***

Jason: I know we’ve always had this unspoken rivalry.

Tim: Not a rivalry, you’re just always mean to me. And not unspoken, you talk about it all the time.

***

Harley Quinn: I did it for love!

Nightwing: Cool motive, still murder.

***

Harley: I’m not a thug, I’m a law abiding citizen!

Signal: Okay, then name one law.

Harley: Don’t kill people.

Signal: That’s on me, I set the bar too low.

***

Cass: I was thinking about how I’d make the perfect American president, based on my skill set, dance ability, and blood lust.

***

Dick: Tim, please keep an eye on Damian today. He’s gonna say something to the wrong person and get himself punched.

Tim: Sure, I’d love to see Damian get punched.

Dick: Try again.

Tim: ….I will stop Damian from getting punched.

***

*after a JL meeting*

Batman: Flash, can I speak to you for a minute.

Flash (Wally West): Oooooh, someone’s in trouble!

Batman:

Flash: It’s me. I don’t know why I did that.

***

Hal: And, once again, Green Lantern and the Flash save the day!

Diana: You didn’t do anything. It was all Barry.

Hal: We’re a package deal. Everyone knows that.

***

Nightwing and Red Hood: *looking at a suspicious stain*

Red Hood: Gasoline? I’m pretty sure that’s water. Well, only one way to tell.

Red Hood: *lights a match and sets the stain on fire*

Nightwing: There were definitely more ways to tell!

***

Bruce: I tried to acknowledge her feelings. It wasn’t easy. There were a lot of them.

[earlier that day]

Selina: I’m just so confused- Are you… are you climbing out the window?

Bruce: *halfway out the window*

Bruce:

Bruce: No.

***

*at a bar*

Jason: Thanks for the advice. I gotta go.

Roy: Um, aren’t you forgetting something?

Jason:

Jason: *hesitates before awkwardly kissing him on the forehead*

Roy: No! Pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?

[navybrat817]

He's wondering when you're gonna stop doing your boring work and do him instead

Of course, he is. 😏

Clocking Out

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky makes it difficult for you to get any work done.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Established relationship, implied smutty times, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning)

A/N: Late submission for Week 7 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents ! Prompt - "Who's this?". ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. But thanks to @rookthorne for the inspiration. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You narrowed your eyes in concentration on your laptop screen, the clicking of your keyboard the only sound in your in-home office. You typically worked with some kind of background noise, whether it be music or even the television at a low volume. It helped the day go by faster. At some point though, Bucky ventured in and shut your playlist off to ask some random question.

"Who's this?" he asked as he shoved his phone in your face and blocked your view of the monitor. "And what is FYP? What the hell does that mean?"

You had to giggle after a moment. Your boyfriend had a habit of interrupting you while you worked to get some form of attention. It happened more times than you could count and you were lucky you got any work done at all when he was home. He told you in passing that after being alone for so long that he wanted to soak up every moment he could with you. 

I can't get mad when he puts it that way. 

"It means 'For You Page' and I have no clue who that is," you answered, gently pushing his hand away so you could get back to typing. "Why are you on TikTok, old man?"

"Why are you?" he asked, taking a seat on the loveseat near your desk. "Is this what you look at to get inspiration for your smut or whatever it is that you call it?"

"Hey!" you said, pushing away from your desk to turn and face him. "I write stories, thank you very much. Some of them just happen to include smut and there is nothing wrong with that."

Bucky had an all too smug expression on his face when he leaned back against the cushion and widened his massive thighs. He took up almost the entire two-seater sofa with his size. The gorgeous bastard finished up his workout earlier and didn't bother getting fully dressed after his shower. Just a new pair of sweatpants and no shirt, his long hair still slightly damp and daring you to run his fingers through it.

Showing off his broad torso like a harlot. 

"Sorry. You're right. You do tell stories and they are wonderful," he said, holding up his hands on surrender. His steel blue eyes had a hint of playfulness as he nodded to your laptop. "You almost done with your 'porn with plot' or should I come back later?"

You rolled your eyes as you spun away from him and pulled yourself back to your desk. "You're impossible. Turn my music back on and go back to watching TikTok videos."

"Or you could take a break and ride me," he suggested so casually your fingers froze on the keyboard. "Give you the motivation you need to finish."

With a defiant lift of your chin, you went back to typing. You did like his idea and it wouldn't be the first time you stopped writing to have Bucky pull an orgasm or two from you. The only reason you got a bigger desk was so he could fit under it. The image of him nearly getting stuck under your old desk brought a smile to your face. 

It also caused a tingling sensation between your legs when you remembered just how deep he stabbed his tongue into your aching pussy. 

"You can't ignore me, doll. Look at you. Already distracted and shifting in your chair," he said, his voice low. He knew exactly how it affected you. "So get over here."

Nope. His thick cock can wait for me to take a ride. 

"Bet you're not even working," he accused. It wasn't true. There were words on the screen. "You're typing just to look busy when we both know you're getting your seat wet through your clothes."

"Don't you have work to do yourself?" you asked incredulously, refusing to look over at him. If you did, you'd go right to him and he'd win. Both of you would win, but that wasn't the point. He cut into your work time when you couldn't cut into his.

It's not like I can show up in the middle of a mission and demand to suck his cock. 

"If by 'work' you mean your delicious cunt, yeah. I have a lot of work to do," he said. The unsubtle man he was, you knew he was about two seconds away from taking himself out and stroking his perfect cock. Anyone who said perfection didn't exist hadn't slept with Bucky Barnes. "I'll do overtime and you can pay me in orgasms."

Your head fell back against your chair with a groan. "Where is your off switch?"

"No off switch around you, doll. Only an on switch. You're lucky I don't knock stuff off the end tables since I'm practically a walking hard-on around you."

The sincerity in his statement had you beaming and laughing all at once. You wondered if something in the serum sent his libido into overdrive or if it was you who brought that side of him out. It did wonders for your self-esteem because no matter how you looked, he gazed at you as if you were the most beautiful creature to grace this planet. 

A small break wouldn't hurt. 

"If I step away for a few minutes," you began as you stared at the ceiling. "You have to transcribe the next few paragraphs for me so I can lay down and recover."

"Deal," he said, leaning over and gripping the chair handle to turn you toward him. "But I'm warning you. If you dirty talk, I'm gonna get hard all over again and we'll be right back where we started."

"It can't be any worse than the time you had me in your lap," you said as you lifted your head. He couldn't stop himself from running his hands along your body or kissing your neck. And that was before he had you warm his cock. "Don't look so smug. You owe me an orgasm."

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked. 

Lucky for you, Bucky always delivered on his promises. 

We can't resist Bucky, can we? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[itsonlydana]

where snow falls and conversation strikes | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

Your train gets caught in a snowstorm and when the first class gets moved into the normal compartments, a beautiful man asks to sit with you

warnings/tags: modern(ish)!AU, First Meetings, Fluff

wordcount: 3,7k

an: wrote this mostly on the train on my way to work every morning so it took a while and suddenly its 25° c and not 0°c anymore... oops? and lets ignore that my layout for fics is not even close to uniformly

+ masterlist + rules + read the fic on ao3 +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The view outside the train window was white in its purest form. The mush of white flakes went from gently landing on the glass to completely covering it, obscuring everything behind an opaque wall. 

A few hours ago it had been a wonderful sight of frost-tipped mountains, sloping meadows, and high-risen forests that made the long journey not only bearable but quite enjoyable. The hours had flown by just like the landscape, yet – as the newspapers had predicted it would happen – the gray clouds coming in from the seaside had caught up with the train weaving through the country and now, ever so slowly, it lost its speed. 

It couldn't have been long to the city. The last stop had been a while ago and if it weren't for the clouds hanging so low, coloring the sky ashen and the snow that just wouldn't stop falling, you could have probably seen the first small villages that dotted the outside of the city.

The train slowing down had been inevitable, you had known as much when you had boarded earlier this morning, though you had hoped to arrive at the destination fast enough that you would have outrun this weather.

Back in the city, back home, the weather would have been a small inconvenience but nothing that would hold you back.

The old speakers crackled just as you adjusted your seat, bringing forth another storm though this one ravaged through the inside: 

"We're mighty sorry 'bout this bother, but we kindly ask for yer patience. We've been movin' at a snail's pace 'cause of this darn weather, and now we're told we gotta face this blasted snowstorm 'fore we can carry on."

Even through the walls of your compartment, you heard the groaning and moaning of the other passengers. 

It wasn't surprising, the decision to travel onward would be foolish – everyone on this train knew – but the times you did travel like this you found that people seemed to bond over these expressions of annoyance toward something no one could be blamed for. The annoyed grunts that were passed along the rows with an eye roll made up for hours of silence daring the others to interrupt their own peaceful silence.

Your sigh fogged up the window, and you let your head fall back against the cushions, fixating your gaze on the white haze outside when the scruffy voice continued speaking after clearing his throat: 

"As it's damn impossible to know how long this weather's gonna last or whether it'll get worse, we kindly ask our first-class guests in the rear carriages to come through to the front. Heating there could be gone any minute. Make room for 'em. You'll of course be helped with your luggage."

Knowing that there is not much else to do than to sit back and wait, you picked up the book you had been reading, a collection of short stories by your favorite author that you knew by heart yet the familiar words provided comfort and you were quickly far away in those lands described.

Before you could finish the story you had left on though, a noise startled you and pulled you right back. The door of your compartment slid open by a tall man peeping his head in. 

"Good evening, forgive the intrusion, but might I trouble you for a moment? I was told I could find a seat here. Would that be alright?" The man raised his shoulder to stop the bag he was carrying from sliding down, it wouldn't do what he wanted and slipped to his elbow.

He was beautiful, despite the distressed look on his face that was covered by his long blonde hair falling into it as he glared at the bag; on its way down his arm, it had taken the coat he had hung over it with it so that it dangled close to the carpet floor of the train. 

You stared at him long enough that he arched a thick dark eyebrow and you flinched. 

"Oh, yes.. yes of course!" You prayed that your cheeks weren't as red as you feared they might be as you nodded.

There was enough space inside the compartment, your suitcase was pushed under your seat and the bench across from you had been free, but you felt the need to look like you would make room for him.

Since there was nothing in the way, really, all you did was pull the bag next to you closer and kick away a piece of lint that stuck to the carpet. 

"Thank you," the man slipped inside, coat, bag, and another suitcase dangling from his long arms.

You tried to look busy and lifted your book high up to your face while he stowed his suitcase away, a sleek dark blue leather one that unlike yours had no stickers on it or clothes sticking out. Then he entangled the coat from the bag to hang it on the door before he turned and stared at you. 

"Can… can I help you?" you asked when he remained silently scrutinizing you.

His eyes were an icy hue of blue and you would have compared them to the snowy weather outside, cold and unmoving, if there weren't the slightest hints of nervousness in them. 

"I don't want to inconvenience you any further but" – he swallowed and lifted a hand to brush some hair away, revealing the faintest of blushes on his high cheekbones– "I fear that I can't stomach traveling backward very well. Would you mind switching places or I could sit beside-"

"It's fine!" you interrupted him. Just him standing there seemed to affect the man quite a bit, he was swaying even though there was no movement, and what harm would it cause you to switch places?

You quickly gathered your back, closing the book with your thumb in between to mark the page you had left on and smiled at him as you sat down on the other side. "It's no problem at all, I have no preferences where I like to sit."

The upholstery was chilly under you and your legs groaned as you moved them for those few steps for the first time in hours instead of just folding them over each other

The man sat down, mumbling a soft "Thank you". His legs were long enough to brush against yours before he angled them toward the window, his slender hands resting on his lap. 

Silence fell just like the snow, with the man growing as still as a statue, his eyes hefted outside the window, and you finding a comfortable position to get back to your book.

Despite your best efforts to concentrate on the poetry, your mind couldn't stop straying to the man.

He must be one of the first-class-traveler, you would have noticed him on your short walks through the train whenever you got bored or had grown restless. 

His hair stood out, worn long enough to brush past his shoulders and over the cream-knitted sweater he wore, and then there were his eyebrows, the only dark spot of color in a face that could have been cut out of marble. He certainly looked expensive. He made the impression of a man who owned his own – equally perfect – bust.

He suddenly turned his head, not by much but he caught you looking at him nonetheless. Like a deer in headlights, your mouth simply fell open in a forgotten lie to excuse yourself for staring.

Thankfully he didn't comment on it, instead, his rosé lips curved into a smile.

"I'm Thranduil, by the way. I think I should tell you so that you have a name to complain about the stranger who not only stormed into your compartment but took your seat as well" He held out his hand. 

You took it after a relieved breath. His fingers were cold, his grip firm.  "Nice to meet you Thranduil," you introduced yourself and noted how his fingers flitted over your racing pulse point at your wrist, "Don't worry, I'd be a fool to moan about having a conversation partner, you've done nothing but turn this boring journey interesting"

"Ah, but you haven't realized how awful I am at small talk. I make a dreadful conversationalist," he admitted with a laugh and let go of your hand.

"We could simply skip that part then," you offered boldly and finally closed your book in your lap. "Tell me, what stop did you get on?"

He arched an eyebrow at you and rested his elbows on the table between you, placing his chin on the intertwined fingers. "What? You want to know where I came from and not were I'm going?" 

You shook your head, "No, I'll see where you have to get off, this is much more interesting."

Thranduil looked at you for a moment, his eyes taking you in like he wanted to figure you out. Then he huffed, giving in. "I got on right at the first stop," –you smiled, encouraging him to continue talking, which he did, his lips twitching to a smirk– "I stayed in Laketown with a friend over the holidays, but I didn't want to impose on him any longer."

"So you brought this weather with you?" You grinned.

"Oh, one hundred percent," he said, sounding so serious that you nearly giggled, "I had so much fun shoveling snow every morning for ten days that I simply wanted to continue at home." Thranduil tipped his head to the side, examining you once again. "And you?"

"God no, I don't get to pick up any tools while I'm on vacation," you said, knowing full well that's not what the question was about.

"No?" 

"No," you sighed, "Try being the youngest at the family reunion. I'm glad my parents let me shower and dress myself. Gosh, I think they would've cried if I even thought about helping with the snow."

Amusement lit up his face, lifting all his sharp features. "Tell that to my friend's little one. She's a fierce thing; knocking at my door at sunrise all dressed up and threatening me with her shovel that I better be outside before she had to come again."

"Oh my! Say, whatever was she threatening to do instead?"

Thranduil chuckled and shook his head, "I didn't stay long enough in bed to find out." 

A knock sounded from the door, interrupting the conversation as an older woman opened your compartment. "Hiya, loves. May I offer you some tea? Dreadful weather outside and with the heating back there gone completely, we don't want ya to catch a cold," she said.

"Ye–"

"We'll take two cups," Thranduil's directive voice overshadowed yours, there was an authority in it that even you wouldn't want to cross. He was already pulling a fancy black wallet out of his pockets, which produced a fresh note that gave no room to argue or chip in. "Keep the change," he said while the train service employee shuffled inside and placed a tablet on the table between you.

"Thank you, Sir Oropherion!" She beamed at him and slipped the note through the buttons of her blouse, "You're always too kind!" Then she turned to you and lowered her voice in a faux-whisper: "He's just as handsome as he's single. But you didn't hear that from ol' me." 

Thranduil scoffed, though you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. "You are a horrible gossip, Hilda! Go bother some of the other passengers or they'll freeze to death."

A little bit louder and glaring toward Thranduil, she added: "A shame his attitude is like the weather; he could use a sweetheart like you.

With a last wink, she turned and left you to stare after her, wondering what just happened.

"Impossible, that woman." 

Thranduil's low rumble pulled you back to him, leaving that poor – now again shut – door alone before your eyes drilled a hole through the wood in search of an explanation.  

The man across from you didn't offer you one either, instead, he was reaching for one of the silver spoons that the woman, Hilda, had given to you as well as a cup filled with milk and a small tower of cookies. 

Somehow you had the feeling this wasn't what the other customers would get but rather a gesture of whatever fondness the woman pledged to the blonde, who used the tiny tongs to drop two cubes of sugar into his cup.

"So," you said and cleared your throat. Thranduil looked up, nearly killing you on the spot with the daggers in his eyes daring you to speak on the matter. Of course, who would you be if you shied away because of that? "She seemed lovely. A friend of yours?"

"No. No, she's not," Thranduil said. He pushed the other cub toward you, encouraging you to take from the all-paid-for beverage. 

You wrapped both hands around it, marveling how beautifully and frail the cup looked and felt, and after taking a small sip, you smiled benevolently and waited for Thranduil to continue. 

He rolled his eyes, admitting defeat in his thickheadedness of remaining aloof. "I travel this route to Laketown quite a lot. Once a month, sometimes two or three times, or whenever my schedule allows me to actually. That woman made it her personal mission to get on my last nerve; chatting to me and leaving me sweets and tea without me asking for it. After a while, I could at least get her to accept my money for it. She's keen on finding me my soulmate so I no longer travel this much alone."

"Aw, but that's cute," you said and drank another sip of the hot tea. You didn't know what burned more, the tea or Thranduil's hardened eyes, "What? She looks out for you; the journey is long and she just doesn't want to be lonely." 

"Whyever you feel the need to defend her is unfathomable," he scoffed as if you taking Hilda's side was the most outrageous thing he'd ever heard, "You don't even know if her accusations are true– if I'm lonely. Maybe I like traveling alone!" Thranduil placed the cup back onto the tray with such an energetic movement, that it clinked. His lips twitched.

"That…" you started and nodded toward the cup, "was far too defensive. Why, Thranduil, it's no shame to admit to something, especially not to a stranger." His expression was still unreadable though the sharp line of his jaw protruded even more like he was biting down on his teeth. You made sure to keep your tone lighthearted: "Dare I say this is even the perfect chance to get it off your chest? Who knows if we will see each other again. Time to spill all your deep, dark and dirty secrets."

He fixated you with his cold blue eyes. Your words had left an impression on him, that much was clear and you would even go so far to say he was considering them. 

Thranduil made a sound close to a "Humpf!" and you smiled and nodded, pushing him evidently over the edge for he rolled his eyes, clasped his hands together and leaned back into the cushions.

"Very well," he sighed though clicked his tongue as he saw your satisfied smirk, "You are right, traveling alone can–" lifting one finger, he punctuated the word "get a bit lonely. Not to say it's like that every time but I find that this conversation, despite the uncalled-for nosiness on behalf of my private life, makes it a lot more enjoyable than the hours I spent in the first class."

"Aww," you waved off in false modesty, "that's such a sweet way of saying I basically rescued you from a death of boredom."

"Bit of an overstatement"

"Okay, first-class, no need to knock my ego down like that." 

"Anyone ever tells you how cheeky you are?"

You smiled brightly, "All the poor, single, and handsome men I chat up on these travels."

Thranduil laughed out and shook his head more for himself than anything else. He extended his hand towards his cup once more, coinciding with the moment you brought your tea to your lips.

As your gazes met over the rising steam of porcelain, the black tea seemed to carry a subtle sweetness reminiscent of the shared smile between you, if only for a fleeting moment.

Or maybe it was the sugar, combined with the subtle loneliness that was your own travel companion nowadays, a constant bitterness coating your tongue. 

No matter what, another sip of tea flushed it down. 

"Now," Thranduil cleared his throat and dabbed the sleeve of his sweater at the corner of his mouth where a small drop of tea rested next to a shy smile. The tea disappeared – the smile stayed. "Do you want to tell me where you are going?" 

The answer was simple, you just had to tell him the name of your station, but you hesitated. 

This felt too good to be true, and maybe, if you disappeared without giving him any real information, there wouldn't be the urge to keep your eyes open when you arrived home, hoping he would be looking for that mystery woman he met on the train. 

Before the moment passed for far too long to be deemed anything but awkward, the train jolted. First, there was this one tug, then another one, and then, right when you looked up at Thranduil and understanding passed across his face like a ghost, appearing and disappearing right again, the wheels set in motion.

"Seems like we're off again," Thranduil said quietly, turning his face to the window.

He cleared his throat and you watched him swallow, not breaking away from the fuzziness outside that mirrored what you felt in your stomach right now. He was beautiful, even with that sadness settling heavy on his shoulders.

Why you couldn't just offer a piece of yourself now that he has given you some of him, that you didn't understand yourself because this trip had been the loveliest in a long time, the conversation quick and easy and nothing like the pestering questions about your romantic life that your brothers and your mother had poured over you, and while yes, you just met him, there was a connection between you. 

More than strangers on a train.

And you wanted it, so so much.

To have someone by your side wherever you go. 

"Thranduil–" you spoke so suddenly you not only startled Thranduil; the sound of your own voice frightened you as well.

"Yes?"

"This thing working again? Ah yes, now yer can hear me 'gain. Darn line cut off for a moment there. Next stop, Mirkwood Central Station, arriving in 'bout five minutes. We apologize for the delay 'n hope y'all get to your destination safely. To all those leavin' us: Remember to grab all your things before ya go. Hope to see y'all again real soon." 

The rest of the sentence died on your lips as you listened to the announcement. How they managed to be on time when you needed another delay, another moment to sort out your thoughts was an unwanted miracle.

Right when you wanted to panic and quickly pack up the book you hadn't opened up again, Thranduil got to it first.

"Five… five minutes?" he gasped and jumped out of his seat, knocking his long legs into the table resulting in you both reaching for the rattling cups trying to stop them from crashing down, hands brushing just enough for you to nearly smash the pot of sugar away as well.

"Wait. This is your stop?" 

Thranduil nodded, already throwing his coat on. "Yes, oh it's such a shame! I had hoped we had more time to finish our tea." He threw a sad glance at the half-empty cups; although the switch to look at you spoke of a far greater regret than simply leaving two cups of tea behind.

A laugh burst out of you, taking both of you by such surprise that you wondered if it had come off as discouraging or far worse: like you were making fun of him.

You hastened to explain: "This is my stop as well!" – the wide smile that shot to his eyes turned into a smirk – "This is me, Mirkwood Central. So if you want–" you interrupted yourself by standing up and grabbing your jacket, "we could get a tea later?"

"Yes!" Thranduil said quickly, "Yes, I would love to. Do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?" 

You copied his smile. "The rest of the evening? Bit eager, aren't we?" You were teasing, mostly, because that seemed to affect that glimmer of playfulness in Thranduil's eyes that made them look like molten silver, but you couldn't deny that you wouldn't have canceled all your plans if you'd had any to begin with, to stay in Thranduil's company. 

"I will gladly take every bit of time you can offer me," Thranduil said, "Any man would be this eager to get to know you."

You were still blushing when you stepped into the narrow corridor of the train, the tight space and crowding of passengers waiting to exit as well making it impossible to stand anywhere else but close together, Thranduils taller body a warm presence in your back and whenever you swayed his large hand found your shoulder to steady you and his amused chuckling reverberated in your stomach.

The train finally made its way into the bustling train station, the smoke of other trains clouding up the window and excitement like only arriving at a special destination could evoke in one filled the air inside the train, the hushed talking growing as other passengers saw relatives or friends or lovers waving to them, children pressing their faces against the glass or tried to run past you with their parents following close behind.

One particular stormy child knocked you straight into Thranduil as the doors opened and cold air greeted you while your face lightened up with a blush. 

"I hope I won't lose you," you said, jokingly but the air was stolen right out of your lungs as Thranduils gloved hand grabbed yours.

"Don't worry," he said and helped you step onto the metal platform, watching carefully as you hopped onto the platform. He looked beautiful in the evening lights of Mirkwood Station, white snowflakes landing gently on his long lashes. "I won't let that happen!"

©itsonlydana 2024

[yannaryartside]

If Sydcarmy is not engame….

This is a rant. A sad rant but still. I know we have evidence, I would go to the supreme court with it, but hear me out.

If sydcarmy is not endgame:

It would make the show a disappointment for me. It will kinda ruin it to some extent. But not only as a shipper they had her expectations unsatisfied, but as a conscious viewer. I would like to explain why.

Part 1: the meaning of their connection

I was a shipper of this relationship the moment the characters met. She was cute, awkward and brilliant. He was cute, awkward and angsty. I normally go hard for shipping character where I find both of them interesting, and I like their dynamic. This is the ship that had consumed my head the most in all my years of consuming fiction. They both have real traumas and flaws. Even if the show wasn't so obvious with its intentions, I would have shipped them until they both got their respective soulmates. These two characters taught me how complex developing a romance could be, and how satisfactory if the pieces went together. Just the fact that they are so complex and I got to ship them is something I am grateful for. I will never write romance the same way.

Now, I don't know if is the time of the month fatalism hits, but I have been recently seriously considering the fact that it may not happen. That Claire was always supposed to be Carmy’s endgame.

Part 2: potential

The first reason why I would be disappointed if they are not engame is because the concept of two people building something together while supporting each others flaws is what got me into the show. It is such a beautiful concept for a couple, and I know it works on friends, but I once read that romance appears in your life when you have to open yourself to new potentials. In Carmy, Syd saw the potential for grow and movement, in Syd, Carmy saw the potential for peace and sincerity. Not to mention I rather ship two messed up characters than one messed up character and another that the show has called “perfeft” multiple times.

Part 3: Claire

Thinking Claire bear is endgame is to admit that she has to grow of the flaws we all saw, that Carmy could make her better (wich I don't think because Claire seemed to have a lot of lack of empathy to begin with) but ok. The thing that could never work for me is that we know Syd can make Carmy feel peace but Claire can't. It is the theme of the show that a woman should learn how to be like other woman in order to maker her man happy? We will define how much good she can do to Carmy on how much peace she could bring like Syd did. That doesn't sound right to me.

Part 4: Syd

I don't think the purpose of Syd in the whole story is to be Carmy’s endgame, but a lot of her screentime so far has been defined by her relationship with him. In the good things she does for him and his family. We know she has feeling for him. We know that she has had her heart broken before and then this could break it again. Again, that is the theme of your show? That a woman needs to get her heart broken in order to grow or get to her full potential? Who asked for this?

You made her fall for a guy that may never support her creative journey, that may have defined how she view herself as an artist? That she will have to deal with her broken heart and decide to find another spot to work? Are we supposed to believe that is something good for her? You wanna to contribute to a narrative of glorifying women's pain to justify growth? You are gonna use these amazing character just to have her heart broken 3 seasons out of 4. Is that supposed to be her big lesson? Her motivation even?

Not that is justification for Carmy and Syd getting together, but what a waste of time. If you had established and denied the attraction earlier or just never make her have feelings for Carm you could have her a interesting arc worthy of such an interesting character.

Not only that, but it seems all so cruel, to create a dynamic that in friendship can make her grow but because she developed feelings for him can hurt her immensely.

Idk, maybe I just made a story on my head that I thought made sense but the author insist on disagreeing. Maybe I am making storm out of nothing since they may have us a satisfactory thing. But yet…

[ateriblewriter]

Butterflies (t.z)

Continuation of I’m Here

TRIGGERS: self harm, self worth, hinting at other things (if you or anyone ever needs help please do reach out)

a/n: sorry this a year late. but here it is! read with caution.

Enjoy?

"Do you have any sharpies? Or a permanent marker or something like that?" Trevor untangled himself from around your body when he felt the time was right. He didn't wait for your answer before he started to rummage through the drawers of junk that were in the kitchen.

Trevor wasn't about to act like he all the answers in world or like he was going to be the one to fix you. Because in reality that would be impossible, you needed someone trained in that field to help you long term. But that didn't mean that he couldn't help in the moment or at least try.

And he had an idea, something that he had seen when he was younger. A reminder for when your feelings got a little too big for you to handle by yourself. It also a place holder until he was able to help you find the correct help you needed. Because he wasn't going to leave you alone to deal with this on your own.

"Um. I think there might be one in the cup next to the sink." You mumble trying to remember where they were. You knew you had some. "Or else it's in with my art supplies. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Hey now. There is nothing to be sorry about y/n." Trevor carried you over to your couch and making his way to your art corner to start scrounging around for that marker.

It took him a minute to find your collection, it turned out they were with the art supplies that hadn't been touched in months. He picked out two colors, purple and blue, your favorite color along with one of his.

Returning to where he had left you, he made himself comfortable. He snagged a blanket from the bin and laid it across the both of you. Trevor wasn't

"Give me your arm" He said, not asking. You didn't have the strength to question what his motives were, so you presented him with your wrist full of healing scars. He grimmaced seeing them, wondering how long this had been going on and why he didn't notice earlier.

Trevor took the purple marker starting to draw something. He started off with the body, adding some sort of antenna to what was supposed to be it head. He then took the blue marker and made wings on either side of its body.

"A butterfly?" You question rubbing and tracing over the temporary tattoo with the tip of your finger.

Your friend nodded and explained the simple rules: you want the butterfly to live by letting it fade naturally and reapplying it when you feel that certain urge. Oh and if you do act on those urges the butterfly dies.

You could do that. Or at least try. It seemed easy enough.

"You think she's gonna like it?" Trevor asked peeling off the bandage that once covered his newly acquired tattoo that laid on his right shoulder. He was looking to get something new to add to his collection of art in his body and he chose a butterfly design.

"A butterfly?" Mason scratched his head. He was a little unimpressed and a bit confused. But that's because he didn't know the significance of the creature. "I don't know man, it just seems kind of-"

"Perfect, right?" Trevor finished his sentence. He had grabbed a warm wash cloth to clean the remaining goop off.

"I was gonna say weird. But whatever floats your boat." The younger man shrugged. He didn't care what Trevor decided to put on his body.

Trevor groaned, quickly finishing up his tattoo care so they could go meet up with you. You would like the new ink, he was pretty positive of it. He just needed to show it to you know.

You weren't paying attention to what you were doing. Sometimes you do things and it just sort of happens and you don't really remember it. It was almost like you were in some sort of trance. A trance that had you acting upon some of those heavy feelings that had been plaguing you lately.

"Shit" You mumbled when you heard the knocking on the door. You had completely forgotten that Trevor and Mason were coming over. There was a fresh mark on your arm that you needed to take care of.

You hurried to the bathroom in search of some sort of bandage for your arm. Maybe you could play it off as an accident. You didn't need to tell Trevor what had happened. It would be fine right? Oh god you hoped Trevor wouldn't notice.

You just found a bandage, when you spotted the butterfly you had just drawn on your arm the day before. You panic a little, the drawing didn't have a purpose anymore and had to go. You drop the band-aid to reach for a nail scrubber and start to get rid of the butterfly.

"Come on, Y/n, open the door!" Trevor banged on the door again.

"You think she forgot?" Mason crossed his arms. It wouldn't be the first time it slipped her mind that they were supposed to hang.

"No we were talking about it earlier. I highly doubt she forgot so soon." Trevor frowned unsure what to do. Should he wait for you, maybe you were still getting ready. But he had a sinking suspicion that wasn't the case.

Trevor fished the key you had given him out of his pocket and opened the door. He suggested Mason stay there. Mason had no idea what Trevor had walked into last time something like this had happened, so he agreed to stay put.

Cautiously he entered your apartment and started to look around for you. He found you in the bathroom scrubbing away. He notice the red on your arm and put two and two together.

"Hey, Y/n?" He called out. He wasn't fully sure if you had completely heard him so he tried reaching you again. "Can you hear me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" You continue what you were doing.

"Hey. Listen to me. You're okay. It happens. I'm not mad." Trevor wanted to grab onto your wrists to get you to stop scrubbing at the butterfly that had already been cleanly washed off, but you swore you could still see a piece of it. Instead he grabbed onto your shoulders and turned you to face him so wrap his arms around you and pull you in close. "It's okay. Wanna draw a new one?"

Let me know what you think! Anything is appreciated!

[dystychiphxbia]

☆ - Gym crush!

gn!reader

im just in my gym rat era so i had to do this...i didnt want this to be the first fic i publish but here we are...

v small nsfw mention in sae's part

characters; kunigami, sae, rin

Kunigami Rensuke;

pre-wc;

you meet at the gym, both relatively new to it

you learn together, always trying out new things

never ask for each other's number but still somehow end up at the gym at the same time

"what are you hitting today?" "it's leg day" "aw sucks to be you...jk i'll join you"

"need a spotter?"

he's definitely your gym crush and you always try to look extra good in front of him

trust me he's doing the same

always helps you rerack your weights!

gym bros till death do you apart

death or...blue lock.

post-wc;

kunigami just disappears for MONTHS and comes back like nothing happened

except now he wont even greet you

he completely ignores you when you ask him where he's been

you are motivated to show him your progress but you don't see him even glancing at you

"need a spotter" you would ask him, but he would simply say you are too weak

and looking at his weights, he's right

like damn how many plates is he squatting??

he would still save you if you failed a bench press though

"thanks...but i would've gotten it" "stop lying to urself"

maybe he warms up to you eventually...

i mean you never stopped going to the gym, it shows your resolve

and you didn't change at all, you still work as hard as ever and look so damn good while doing so.

Itoshi Rin;

he noticed how every sunday, you would run on the treadmill for at least an hour straight

how fast are u going??? he would always try to sneak a glance at your settings when he walks past

he would also do his warm ups on the treadmills, secretly cheering when only the one next to you is available

one sunday, you aren't there

he's actually...worried? you are there every single sunday, so why not now?

he's so relieved to see you there the sunday after that, maybe you were just sick

the thing is, he doesn't see you on any other days. he's hoping it's just cause you go at a different time, and not because you only go on sundays...

nah you have too much muscle for you to only go to gym once a week to run

but he wont change his workout times just for some person he sees once a week at the gym...until he does.

he starts going a bit earlier and later, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of you

it takes a while but he's finally there at the same time as you

you notice him, "i havent seen you here at this time before"

he's flustered, you've actually noticed him and are now talking to him???

"yeah, just changing things up a bit." he just wanted to see u!!

u always ask him to spot you and he just cant say no

one time you almost got crushed under the bar because he was busy admiring your face

yeah...he definitely has a crush on you!! but will he ever take it a step further...probably not. have you noticed...? of course you have, that's exactly why you always ask him.

Itoshi Sae;

this guy has been watching you squat since day 1

eyes glued to your ass, maybe it wasn't so impressive in the beginning but it definitely is now

he makes sure to always be at the gym when it's your squat day

of course you've noticed...you make sure to wear those gym pants that make your ass look so good!!

sometimes he stares for too long, suddenly realizing that he's just been sitting for 10 minutes

one day you come up to him, saying that you are gonna attempt a pr and need a spotter

jesus christ he almost choked on his drink

"sure." staying as cool as ever.

but watching your ass from so close almost stirs up a problem in his pants

"good job." he'll say to you afterwards, walking off.

you are kind of disappointed, he's always looking at you and that's all you get??

but no worries he'll be thinking of that sight for a while!!

slowly adjusts his schedule so that he's always coming on the same days as you

makes sure that only he spots you

also makes sure that no one else glances your way when you are squatting

cause you are HIS gym crush, not anyone else's

one day he finally gets the courage to actually talk to you

he's surprised when you call him by his name but then he remembers that he's basically a celebrity

you introduce yourself, and he's so close to asking you out on the spot

"i've seen you play on the tv, you are so good! i'd love to learn to play!"

Perfect.

he asks u to come with him to the field after your workout for lesson number one

about damn time, you think

playing football after a leg workout wasn't the easiest but maybe sae made it a bit easier for you to manage

[vonne-inc]

VONNE, INC. — PRODUCT: teasing.

sub!armin x fem!reader. uses of (y/n); she/her. thigh riding. hand-job.

armin whined, fingertips dancing along his clothed arousal, only enough pressure to ensure that he'd feel the strokes of pleasure, yet need more. it was tortuous to him, but he knew she'd unlikely stop. always, she had a fondness of teasing him - whether in public or in the behind closed doors, he figured she enjoyed seeing him blush or become flustered.

although, armin wouldn't deny that he liked that side of her.

"please.. i need more, (y/n).." he bucked his hips into her palm, only receiving a 'tsk' in return, "nuh-uh, not yet, pretty boy." she returned her hand back down to his boxers, her thumb rubbing over the covered tip. (y/n) smiled kindly, her actions showing otherwise, "this is your punishment, isn't it? after all, it is your fault you're in this mess."

he couldn't deny she was right, he did cause this upon himself. all over.. he couldn't even remember.. all his thoughts were focused on her movements. lust filling his senses; begging to be pleased more.

he muffled his whine, choking back as he furrowed his brows. armin had become desperate for any friction, any feeling of her against him, "can you- mm- can you, at least.." he struggled to get the words out of his mouth, her thumb rubbing harder than before. she titled her head, her freehand holding his thigh as her fingers massaged along his inner, "becoming a stuttering mess, all over me putting a little more pressure?.. i guess, i'll just have to—" removing her thumb from his tip, she looked at his frustrated gaze, "—stop."

as much as he wanted to protest against her actions, (y/n) would force him to say what he wanted either way. armin bit his tongue, "can you.. ride my thigh, please." (y/n) hummed, she wasn't opposed to it; they'd done it before, countless of times, though this was a punishment - but he asked so nicely.. she shook her head, "if you can be a good boy for me, then we can do anything you want."

the words seemed enough to motivate armin. he held his hands in the place she asked earlier; by his sides, gripping at the sheets. of course he wanted to touch her, feel her, and so much more - but if he could do anything he wanted after these events were over? he would just have to restrain himself.

as she applied more pressure, she stroked his shaft the best she could through the fabric. he'd been punished enough, the least she could do for him is let him have what he's begged for. pausing, she laced her fingers in the waistline, lowering the boxers enough for his erection to be freed. armin shivered, the sudden cool air against his cock surprised him. his dick twitched, practically begging for (y/n) to presume. she climbed out of her underwear, swiftly taking them off. her arousal had gotten the best of her; the growing wetness becoming unbearable for her comfort.

setting herself upon his exposed thigh, she groaned as she began grinding herself down. her clit brushed back and forth, the shocks of pleasure causing broken sounds to escape from her throat. moving her dominate hand to stroke armin, an airy moan echoed from him. whimpers escaped from his throat as he threw his head back at her fast strokes. he so close, desperate to release. feeling her wetness rub against his thigh made him further motivated to cum. all he wanted was to ravish her - to please her, have her shaking. even thinking about it made him pulse.

"f-fuck.. please- just like that-!" her thumb rubbing against the underside of his cock, trailing against his vein and upwards to his sensitive tip, was enough to cause him to break. "i-i'm gonna cum! please– don't stop, please!" thrusting his hips into her touch, his moans became all the louder. (y/n) could feel herself becoming closer too. she grinded herself further down, faster and sloppier, "cum with me, my love- cum with me!" her demand sounded more desperate than composed. though, she couldn't care either way - all she needed was to see him cum.

his breath hitched as she felt his hips stutter, strings if white shot out of his slit. spilling on her hand and forearm, dripping down to land on the sheets. his head began to feel dizzy as his cock still spurt out cum. his legs shook as his eyes began to water, "thank you– thank you for letting me cum.. thank you, thank you!" his desperate thanks were enough to cause (y/n)'s release. her breathing became heavier as she held her clit against his warm thigh, feeling her orgasm overcome her senses. her grip moved from his cock to his hand on the bed. as she rode out her orgasm, armin continued to send his thanks and praises to her - all of them going from one ear out the other.

"you helped me so well, miss.. i'm so happy." he kissed her neck as he slowly laid her down, climbing between her thighs as he looked up at her, "it's my turn now, isn't it, my darling?"

[justgrey]

What if a teen reader ACCIDENTALLY came out to the TF2 mercenaries? "came out" meaning generally queer in sexuality. the teen would be worried and anxious afterward because they don't want the mercs to hate them for it. (this is based on myself as a girl-loving girl but it can be written for any gender)

you ask, you finally receive. Might start cutting requests down. idk, I feel like writing for some reason. Who knows how long that's gonna last, though.

also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN, just be aware that i might not get it out for a long, long time because motivation works weirdly😇

Mercs with a queer reader (PART 1)

Scout, Engineer, Medic

Warnings : fear of being rejected, swearing, a couple of hcs, medic is his own warning

Being queer is hard. And being able to not tell anyone (if you're like me and wanna live comfortably) is hard too.

The way they find out is if you got really cosy with them, and I'm talking being invited to Engie's barbecues, Spy letting you smoke one of his fancy ass cigars, and Scout tossing balls to you and acting like an older brother towards you kind of cosy.

So, one day, you accidentally let it slip during a conversation at dinner, having gotten way too comfortable.

Everyone except Medic and Spy was there, choosing to skip to do "work" instead. Your words quieted the whole damn room.

Whatever you did next is up to you. Whether you took it on proudly and kept eating or walked off to your bedroom to cry, up to you.

Reactions

Scout

Scout's unfamiliar with queer people. He didn't know any, and he wasn't taught anything about them.

He is especially unfamiliar with queer men. If you are a queer man, he'd be asking you all the time when he first finds out:

"How don't you find her hot? Or her? Do you find 'dat asshole, Spy hot? Is 'dat how dis works???"

Not with the intention of being slightly offensive, though. Just curious because he kind of struggles to wrap his head around the fact you're queer.

He always had a feeling that you weren't straight as a line, though. He hung around you a lot, even if you were annoyed by him, because he kind of wanted to finally be an older brother because he's always been the youngest.

So this is all a learning experience for him.

He'd definitely stay quiet for a little while, scaring you, before he randomly approaches you the next day.

"So... you like, what... in ta' ladies/dudes?"

(If you like girls, he'd definitely be the guy to say, "Holy shit, me too!" As a way to bond)

"Yeah."

"That's cool... that's cool... wanna talk about it more, or do you wanna go play ball?"

"Play ball."

"Let's go play ball, 'den."

Nothing changes about your relationship. Although he does occasionally ask if someone is your type or not, wanting to learn more about you. But in the end, as long as you still wanna hang around with him, he'll be chill.

Engineer

Unlike Scout, he is educated in queer people. He knows a couple, and he thinks they're pretty cool. Medic is also out to him because he's definitely gay (and trans because I like it that way)

Absolutely nothing changes with Engineer. He doesn't treat you any different or ask you any questions, just continues as normal, but encourages you to talk to him about things because he's definitely experienced it himself.

"You know, you could'a told me that earlier. I wouldn't have judged ya'. I've roamed around that area myself a little too."

"YOU WHAT?!?"

He just likes to get out there and try random shit. He looks like a boring guy, but he's way deeper than the southern merc on the surface.

Just talk to him :(

Medic

He wasn't there when you accidentally came out. He was finishing up an experiment on some organs.

When someone does tell him about it, though, he can't care less because he's queer too.

He also transed his gender. It's not my problem, it's yours now.

Definitely did his own top surgery ngl. Madman. Also discovered how to extract testosterone from sources and synthetically make it. Officially, a pioneer in trans healthcare. Hit him up if you want sum.

He treats you normally because he really doesn't give a fuck. He basically comes out to you as well, though:

"So you don't care."

"Nope."

"Why...?"

"What do you think Heavy and I do while we are working together... and the rest of you are eating?"

"..."

"Wait a minute... wait a... oh."

"Ja."

"HOW ARE STILL ALIVE?! 😭"

Definitely in love with his unofficial soul mate, the Heavy weapons guy.

I'm gonna do parts to this, actually. I'll make a part 2 and a part 3 another day that is even more random. I just need a break cause this is just a little bit lengthy. Ty got reading and sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted 💀. I focused it a lot on the mercs instead of readers' anxiety.

Also, if you don't agree with my medic hcs, lol, fair enough 🥺

[boobav]

An ocean of freedom

Albert Wesker x Reader

content: gross zombies, canon-typical violence, wesker is an asshole so kinda angsty

word count: 5.8k

"So, let me get this straight, you're telling me there's been sightings of Lisa out in the mountains? Security executed her three years ago Jared that's definitely some- I don't know, bigfoot situation." With folded arms you stared at your co-worker, a rather uninterested look dulling your features.

"Look Doctor, I'm not saying I believe it but I just thought it was worth mentioning. Just in case, you know? Maybe it isn't Lisa but some of the virus could've gotten out. Maybe something really is out there! That could jeopardize our entire operation!" Well, he certainly sounded convicted.

"I hear you, I do. I'll look into it when I've got the time. Now leave, I'm busy."

"Alright, thank you." The underling stood from the chair opposite yours and walked off, glancing back once and smiling the way a dog does before it vomits. Somehow throughout your years of working for Umbrella, you'd acquired the unenjoyable role of comforting various researchers through their moments of acute paranoia. Maybe it was the friendly voice, maybe it was the tendency to say what people wanted to hear so they'd shut up. Well... Whatever it was, it brought irritating people to your door every other day. Why should you give a shit that this level-three-clearance researcher thinks the cerberus is gonna maul him to death? That's his problem, not yours.

With a sigh, you lean forward and shuffle up to your worn desk; a pile of papers was laid neatly atop it, demanding your attention more than anything else in the pearl-white room. The contents of this pile included multiple topics, but the main one was feedback from B.O.W tests- hunters, cerberus', general T-virus patients. You'd gotten through half the grueling paperwork earlier this morning, but the stack was still gargantuan and had the strange power of draining all your motivation as soon as it came into vision. Unfortunately, putting it off wasn't as option as you had the executive task of going over results, analyzing anomalies, noting them and then compiling these rough manuscripts into literate articles for the higher-ups. A pen reluctantly found its way into your hand but first, a sharp knock at the door.

"Come in."

The door flicks open, an action entirely lacking in hesitation or self-consciousness. Sunglasses come first- and a mix of dread and deep, uncomfortable anticipation fills you slowly, almost painfully slow, like thick cement filling a crevice in the pavement. But besides all that... He can't have gotten suspicious already, right? You'd only been a part of S.T.A.R.S. for... Well a month or two... Oh please don't be suspicious already that throws a wrench in-

"I saw that paranoid man come in a moment ago. What did he say?" Wesker approached your desk, but he did not sit. Instead, he stood perfectly still with a dark folder tucked under his arm and a lab-coat slung over the same limb; all the energy in the room seemed loyal to him rather than you, a disturbing feeling seeing as it was your office. The fluorescent lighting did nothing to change the immediate dark mood, but nevertheless, his simple words should've snuffed the rawness into professionalism- under ordinary circumstances. But, unfortunately, the past's gloved hands were thick, its tight grip bruising, and its tongue harsh.

Your planned words were stilted, unfit for your drying mouth as your superior stood staring. Or, perhaps, glaring. It was impossible to tell.

"Well... He says there's been sightings of something in the woods." Keeping eye-contact with a glassed gaze was difficult, you thought, "Apparently there's been rumours it's Lisa."

"How many people believe this?" His toneless voice ran straight to the point, as per usual; it seemed you were the only one with a throbbing heart and tightened throat. Wesker's presence was continuing to prove itself unbearable, licks of condescension in his words infuriating.

"How should I know? Go out and ask the senior researchers individually."

"Isn't that supposed to be your job? Compiling useful information?" The sarcasm. The ignorance. The goddamn sunglasses. It took all the power in your body not to lunge over the desk and wrangle the blonde to the floor. His perfectly framed face, not a hair loose, his straight-stick posture... All of it made him more and more insufferable.

Upon your lack of response, a brief, unmoving silence fell. However, to stay under his reticent scrutiny any longer would have been mental torture- so you forced your mouth to part, accommodating thick words that pressed weightily against your tongue.

"Only partially, but you already knew that. Can you leave now?"

"I want you to compile me a list of the researchers who believe Lisa is still alive and I want it by next week."

"Why?"

"None of your concern." He took a single step closer and dropped the folder he had atop your desk, sending a pencil flying off onto the floor somewhere. "I want your opinion on this."

"Pah, you want my opinion on something? Very funny Wesker, but give it to an intern."

"I'm serious." He stood for a brief moment, perhaps giving you some unseen look, before turning and leaving the same way he'd come- no hesitation or longing anywhere to be seen. That probably should've been disheartening, but with him gone it felt as though a relief as heavy as a raging waterfall had fallen upon your shoulders. Well anyway, you must've looked horrendously dumbfounded, but this was a horrendously dumbfounding situation. Wesker, asking for your opinion rather than Birkin's? An incomprehensible miracle had just graced your presence, and now you were curious.

With the tension forgotten, you swept paperwork aside and slid the black folder up front. It wasn't very thick, but that made it feel all the more important. A small treasure trove of classified information felt like a Christmas present every time it was received; you flicked open the folder and peered inside its charcoal shell. And oh, a beautiful treasure trove it was! It seemed as though the Tyrant program had had some recent successes, surprising seeing as the possibility of one bonding with the virus and evolving into a Tyrant was astronomically low. You read on, trying to locate the part that Wesker was curious about... And after a moment or two, it became clear.

One of the test subjects had reacted well to the first dose, but after a few more trials the half-Tyrant began growing bulbous orange eyes around its body, and eventually they incapacitated the budding creature entirely. It sat on the floor immobile as sludge, all the while sprouting more and more clusters of eyes. As you read on, it seemed that these eyes were a point of weakness for the burgeoning creature as it yowled when they were stabbed. Hmm... What did you make of this? You'd let the information settle and get back to Wesker at the S.T.A.R.S. office the day after tomorrow. The dread was already prematurely creeping in.

Paperwork gets done, reports get filed and now you prepare to leave the Arklay Laboratory; the night around you is cold, secretive and enhanced by the surrounding trees that block out even the moon's gaze. On-field research, observation and experimentation were the highlights of your career, but without these dull days the great ones would not be possible. Umbrella needed to keep a rope around its researchers, its cattle, and that rope was a noose pressed right against their talkative throats, held taut by you. This role of yours was part of the reason you needed to check up on researchers and keep things in order, keep things secret. Not that you were exempt from having a noose around your neck- no, not at all, but yours was considerably looser than the majorities. Even so... If Umbrella wanted to hang you or anyone else in its grasp, it could do so easily. This fact lay at the forefront of your mind, currently unreconciled with, simply acknowledged and occasionally thought on. Did you want to get out of Umbrella- have an ocean of freedom rather than a lake of it?

You packed up your things and left through the mansion, boarding the bus leading back to the city with a handful of other employees.

Upon arrival, you observed that your home was still orderly, just as it had been left; you felt paranoia ooze out from your system like pus, and then dissipate entirely. You shucked your coat off, threw your keys in their bowl and slipped off your laced shoes. Tomorrow, a day off, and the next day an unfulfilling drag at the S.T.A.R.S. office. Umbrella must be seriously out of their minds thinking that if, and this is a big if, Wesker was plotting something he'd somehow slip and reveal it at that dull police station. They'd placed you as Alpha team's medic for the sole purpose of spying on your superior, watching his every move and relaying back anything suspect. A double agent of sorts, right in plain sight.

And so far, you'd relayed absolutely nothing.

This, of course, didn't mean Wesker wasn't planning anything. He could be a brilliant actor, or fantastic at covering tracks; you already knew the former was true, so the latter was not implausible. Nevertheless, all the knowledge you'd gained on him so far had lead you to one, big, fat conclusion: he was an asshole. An asshole with a great mind, yes, but working around him almost 24/7 had begun forcing him into your mind more than was enjoyable, like a parasite digging its claws into where it doesn't belong.

But not belonging somewhere doesn't equate to being unwanted.

Anyway, disregarding certain regrettable events, he was your co-worker, your superior. Umbrella could protect you should things go sour and he want you removed from his presence entirely, but staying relatively cordial was in your best interest. At least for now. At least until you had something concrete, something tangible proving his suspected misdeeds. The thought crossed your mind, that perhaps you weren't seeing anything wrong in his actions because you yourself didn't believe in these Umbrella conspiracies; what could Wesker possibly have against them? They gave him almost infinite funding for his research and more than infinite leniency for his disagreeable tendencies. There was definitely something other than his brain that was valuable to Umbrella... Otherwise, they wouldn't be putting so much effort into watching and monitoring him with you acting as an extra pair of eyes, an extension of Umbrella itself.

After various nightly rituals, you retreated to bed, head swimming yet perfectly content to rest. Rest you did, untroubled as a rock. The morning soon arrived, sun peering through your half-closed blinds and caressing your exposed skin.

You leant up against the bed's headboard, pinching your eyes free of their morning film and attempting to discard the grog in your mind. Sleep was becoming increasingly difficult to enjoy, feeling a bit like a recurring holiday destination... Especially with a certain annoyance consistently plaguing ludicrous dreams.

A ping from the left alerted your attention, your work phone, brick thing that it was, had gone off over a dozen times through the night.

"Ughm- what now?" Upon seeing the screen, your nonchalance was replaced with wide-eyed and pulsing concern- something terrible had gone down at Arklay Laboratory overnight and it seemed not a single soul was privy to the details. There were emails and texts from higher-ups desperately trying to get ahold of you, desperately trying to ascertain whether you, currently one of their most precious assets, were safe at home or dead in the lab.

You replied to everyone individually with a brief message saying, 'I'm alive, what is happening?' with slight variations each time, variations that became increasingly impatient. Someone who'd clearly been up all night pinged you back quickly, assuring you it was now under control and to stay far away from Arklay. What? How could they possibly have anything under control if you couldn't even go to the mansion? A tear of anger directed towards your employers ripped through your chest- bullshit it was under control! Did Umbrella forget how much incriminating evidence against them was scattered about that mansion? Did they forget how many files had your name printed (in bold) on the front?

Another few texts were sent and you repeatedly received the exact same answer. Sit tight and go to the S.T.A.R.S. office tomorrow as usual, plans were underway and evidence was being gathered, recorded if important and the rest destroyed with great attention to detail. The doubt, heavy like a drug in your system, was making your hands and neck clammy, so you showered and then went on an unsuccessfully calming walk to try clear your head.

And so a tense day began to pass. Your misery and anxiety was propelled onto your surroundings: the sky's warm blue hue now seemed dull and mocking, the pleasant lights of the city now blinding and irritating. Even the buildings themselves seemed to be looming in on you, reminding you of the world you'd lose if your involvement with Umbrella's shade got out into the public eye. The outside became so unbearable that you decided to just return home and stare at a wall, pondering how your existence would be in prison.

Once night fell and shadows themselves began to mock your spirits, you closed your eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep that was interrupted every hour or so by an overwhelming revelation that had the strength to overpower sleep itself. These revelations were consistently mortifying, for example the fact that even if the mansion was set alight, the lab would most likely be protected and later discovered. This would lead to your immediate downfall. Another even more worrying revelation was the fact that if you didn't get satisfactory assurance from Wesker tomorrow, you'd have to venture down into those labyrinth woods and save your own goddamn career.

God, why the fuck were you still working for these people? One change of the rota- one change making you work today instead of yesterday would've meant certain and unavoidable death. The stunning realization that you had barely any idea of who 'these people' really were strengthened this new, defiant resolve of yours.

Eventually the clock ticked 6am and you almost levitated up from your bed; you'd get to the office early and ask 'Captain' Wesker about this situation without the prying ears of other teammates. Sweat had drenched your back overnight so you hopped into the shower once again; standing under the harsh flow of water did not alleviate any of your suffering, but sitting on the tiled floor with your knees up to your chin like a child did. Doubts and regrets piled atop you; was staying with Umbrella worth it? What could you even do if it wasn't? You bathed in the shade, but the shade brought the risk of being killed outside the light, outside the sun's gaze if your life was deemed unnecessary.

Fuck.

The city was bustling even at this raw hour, but the hope for answers made your projective outlook slightly less negative. The blue sky was blue, and the buildings were simply buildings.

As you arrived, you noted that the police station was empty, a surreal husk of a usually-busy location with emptiness accentuated by the old, grand architecture. Straight to the S.T.A.R.S. office you went, lonely shoes clicking against the hard floor in a rushed manner. No voices accompanied your short, artificially-lit journey and the story was the same inside the office itself; the lights buzzed to life as you flicked the switch and wandered inside, looking slightly as a lost pet does. A fresh tinge of anxiety ran through your heart as you stood by Wesker's door, but you pushed it aside and knocked once, twice.

"Come in."

And so you did.

His desk was quite bare, lacking in personal oddities most have. A pen there, a stack of papers here. He leant back in his chair, arms folded over a shallowly rising chest. Sunglasses, for once, were slipped into his blue shirt instead of being worn. His countenance, still and straight as always. A flutter of irritation and something more unutterable flew through you.

"You know why I'm here, and my patience is already running out with Umbrella's secrecy. What's going on at Arklay?"

He said nothing immediately, hard-set eyes diving into your own and resolving to stay there. Shadows wrapped around his face and yours, the light of the day being dull as it was this time of the year. Even though you were stood and he sat, it seemed the power in the claustrophobia-inducing room encircled him rather than you again; it made your heart patter, but you stayed steadfast in the silence.

"If you're not privy to that information, why do you assume that I am?"

"Don't bullshit me." A scowl crawled onto your face and he made a dull noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. His cold blue eyes kept on yours, and for a small second a flash of consideration, of thoughtfulness spread through them- the first real emotion you'd been able to discern in a long while.

"I suppose it wouldn't be beneficial to hide this from you. There was a leak at the laboratory and it appears there are no survivors." He paused, attentive to each twitch of your features. "Does this soothe your curiosity?"

"No it doesn't. Wesker, do you have any idea how much incriminating shit on me is in that lab?" At this point you were pacing, "Can you even comprehend how bad this would be for me, no- for us, everyone, if this got out? If even a fraction of it got out!"

"An overreaction."

"Oh fuck you!" You slammed a hand against his desk, pointing a finger accusatorily as he finally stood, "How can you be so flippant with something of this magnitude?"

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to, Doctor?" His rich voice held threat, narrowed eyes growing increasingly closer and holding more offerings of venom. Your breaths were shallow waves, controlled somewhat, and on the brink of gracing your superiors face; now leaning over the desk, the distance between the two of you was minimal and would've continued shrinking without oak intervention. You shoved your finger into his chest, but he did not flinch, nor furrow his brows, nor move at all as people tend to do when under scrutiny.

"Oh I haven't forgotten a single thing. I am done with your bullshit Wesker. I'm going back there and dealing with this myself I-"

"You guys alright in there?" Chris Redfield spoke from behind the door, alerting you to the precarious situation you'd thrown yourself into; there had been absolutely no reason to tell of your plan, and you felt curses rising up your throat like bile.

Closing your eyes, you paused- breathing, thinking. No need for further rashness.

But your attempt at turning away was intercepted as Wesker grabbed your jaw, gloved hand forcing you back into his proximity; your stomach flipped, and your heart jumped.

"Don't do anything stupid." His fingers clenched against your skin, "Or I'll have to deal with it personally."

The urge to spit in his flawless face was overwhelming, but you pulled away- a fly escaping from a spiders web. Chris was waiting on the other side of the door, watching with an arched brow as you slammed it behind you; he trailed you to the desks, hovering nearby as if preparing some kind of speech in his great big soldier brain. You fell to your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose as though wringing out anger. Sadly, your state of being was not as easy to control as a towel's.

Chris stepped over, leaning against your desk by the hip.

"I know he's an ass sometimes... But he's a great captain, trust me. You'll get used to him soon." Ah, another fly stuck in the web of lies and deceit. You glanced to Chris' bright, well-meaning eyes and felt sorrow for him for the first time. To you, he appeared as a stray animal, one too trusting and one who'd been reluctantly taken in by an owner who'd get rid of him next week.

"You don't know the half of it Redfield."

The day slogged on and by the end, your conviction was clear as the sky above. You would go to the laboratory. After that, you were completely and utterly done with Umbrella. Perhaps you'd run to another company, perhaps you'd run to another country. The plan wasn't fully formulated, hypothesis muddled and two-tailed, but it was there, murky and unfinished. And so, as the blackness faded from the sky and bars of pink, orange then blue replaced it, you awoke with purpose. No way you were gonna let yourself get dragged down into the muck, the mud that Umbrella enjoyed dancing in. Maybe it was irrational... But you felt as though this was only the beginning. And so- you needed to act fast.

You slipped on warm clothes, an extra layer of skin, and holstered a handgun to your side beneath your thick jacket- a measured precaution. Along with the gun, you strapped a hunting knife to your thigh, similarly hidden beneath your coat.

The drive to the mountains felt grave, a disconcerting stillness in the world passing by. Contained in the box that was your car were your own bubbling feelings, mainly of tittering anxiety and occasional, but thick, doubt. The radio began flickering in and out, buzzing like an irritating fly the closer you got to the mountains, so you rotated the knob to silence. Accompanied by nothing but your own thoughts made the car feel more like a cage, so you cracked down a window and let air whistle through; said air became thin, thinner yet as you ascended the mountains and began the bumpy off-road path towards the mansion. The finalé of the trip was horrible, stomach jumping as the wheels rolled over hives in the dirt path. Tall trees watched your journey, looming over and reaching as if curious at the unexpected intrusion. Their dark spines were thick, constant and capable of blocking out the sun completely; time along here was no longer a resolute rule of the world, but a loose, fleeting suggestion. Eventually, the mansion became visible through the thicket, so you parked a short distance away in a clearing. The floor here was made consistently of pine and shrubbery blanketing soft dirt. Whilst you walked, the recurring thought that whatever you were attempting to accomplish today had a very low likelihood of success arrived once more. Nevertheless, you had to try something, anything, so that the biting paranoia could be tamed.

The doors to the mansion were heavy, two thick slabs of oak pressed against each-other and surrounded by ornamented stone. Upon entering, a coil of stillness wrapped around your heart and steadied its vigorous pumping; you were half-expecting to be greeted by trains of blood with mutilated bodies at their bases, but instead, there was nothing. Silence and emptiness. As an icy cool settled over your soul, you thought that perhaps this absence was worse than your brimming expectation. There was a glimpse of movement in the corner of your eye- up the stairs and to the left. Whatever it was it had come and gone in a moment, leaving not a single sound behind as if it were one of those shadow-people humanity had the tendency to see. Perhaps it was. But nevertheless, it snatched away your attention, its unintentional beckoning too tantalizing to resist. You walked along the aged red carpet, ascended the stairs, turned left and continued down the weathered path, eyes flicking constantly to painting, to drawer, to wall and to painting again. But there were no anomalies. There was merely dead silence, broken singularly by your flat footsteps.

And then all of a sudden a cry- no, a screech, and then a blur was lunging at you from an open doorway to the left, flayed hands coming into vision first. The fingernails were rotten, presumably flimsy, and the fingers themselves were peeling with chunks of skin missing, revealing the decaying muscle beneath. You threw yourself back, barely having time to recover steady footing as the decrepit thing began ambling towards you; it made a grappling motion but missed, and another, which missed again. The rhythmic, angry pounding of your heart continued on as you gained distance, but your mind steadied somewhat as clarity pumped through you like blood. The leak must've come at a terrible time to have infected up in the halls already, you noted.

You gripped your handgun, fingers stiff as if you'd been the one subjected to rigor mortis instead of this stumbling, rotting creature. Your first shot ran by its neck, discoloured flesh tearing with ease; the next shot pierced right between the eyes and sent the thing flopping to the carpeted floor. A professional sternness had settled into the ridges, the curves and wrinkles of your face, deep-set as though it had always been there. The corpse, as you stepped beside it, was face down and omitting a repugnant stench almost incomparable to anything you'd ever smelt before; besides, of course, a dead body. Except this one was reanimated, and apparently that meant extra spice.

For good measure, you kicked it and waited a moment for further reanimation; an irrational part of you thought it would rise straight up again as if controlled on strings by a mastermind above. Perhaps, you regarded this thought with a lightly amused huff, Umbrella deemed themselves that mastermind, but their control of the strings was becoming tenuous at best.

"Fuck this..." You mumbled, stepping back over the body and back towards the entrance hall; paintings leered as you passed, and during one moment your attention was so fixated upon one that you bumped a table corner and sent a vase flying to the ground. It smashed, you jumped, and then moved on.

As you re-entered the dusty hall a fresh dose of dread ran up your spine; anxiety crackled through your chest anew like a firework, although at first glance it appeared that nothing had changed in your absence. But the instinctual caution that was possessing your body suggested otherwise; you thought this irrational, though. Plan was, you'd grab that framed photo from the dining hall, then go straight to the lab. It seemed you could outrun these patients well enough, so that's what would be done. But right then, as you reached the center of the hall, another monstrous noise split through the air. This time, less of a cry and more of a snarl, a deep, animal snarl; your reaction was much too late- by the time you'd turned the beast had already lunged, knocking you down as its front paws dug into your abdomen. Without time to think your hands flew up automatically, grappling with the cerberus' snapping jaw, holding it open and away from your face as far as possible (which wasn't very far at all). Its teeth, each a miniature knife, were hard to grip due to the excess saliva coating them and giving them a slimy outer shell and its fur was ragged, blood-soaked and disgusting to grip; the saliva was, simultaneously, dropping onto your face and neck in thick, frothy globs. Shit- you couldn't reach that goddamn knife at this angle! And though your mind worked quickly, increasingly desperate to end the struggle, a new snarl, and then a bark, sounded from beside- another decrepit dog had appeared.

Your mind was immediately thrown into a plunge pool of dread, deepening every millisecond of awareness.

The wide majority would perhaps see the tiny sliver of life remaining to them as an opportunity to pray and repent- but in a moment of resilience, you did not. You hurriedly withdrew one hand from the maw of the beast and wrenched out your gun, shooting with grit teeth at the newer cerberus; the first two shots were mere scrapes but the third sent it to the floor beside your face. Stench invaded your flared nostrils and the strength needed to hold back the cerberus atop you was waning drastically; soreness filled your forearm like pins and just as you cried out with a final surge of adrenaline, an unexpected shot came from the right, and the monster went limp.

For a short second, you lay perfectly still, the weight of the double-corpse atop your chest making breathing difficult. Blood was rushing through your ears, hands, mouth and your throbbing pulse could be felt on every inch of skin. A complete stillness fell, and you closed your eyes, racing brain coming to the conclusion that whatever had just happened had been an intervention from Jesus himself; the almighty had saved you due to your valuable mind, your ideas having not yet reached their prophesized value.

But Jesus Christ did not go around blasting heretic creatures to death with a gun. Well, not in the first coming at least.

Your eyes reopened, meeting the screened gaze of your captain, your fellow researcher and blight of the earth Albert Wesker. A mixture of joy, dread, suspicion and something familiarly unutterable filled your cavernous chest as you sat up and pushed the disgusting dog from your lap. There were a few explanations for his appearance, you thought whilst wiping saliva from your face. One, he'd come on orders of Umbrella to evaluate the situation, but this seemed unlikely seeing as they had soldiers for the job; why risk a valuable virologist's life? Two, he suspected that you'd be here and decided on a whim to save your life. Unlikely.

Three, Umbrella was entirely right to suspect misconduct. A silence settled, broken only by your shuffling and the rain that had begun knocking at the windows. Tension, thick as wool, rose and the roots of it were unspeakably obvious; you stood, the urge to leave clashing violently with the urge to stay.

"Why are you here?" Were all the words your tongue could form.

"I expected a thank you before the questioning." He sighed, a rather disingenuous thing, "I'm under the impression you'd have been mauled to death without my interference." He took one step closer, and you took one step back. Suddenly, you became aware of the fact you'd dropped your gun in the scuffle- but as you reached down for it Wesker advanced further, forcing you to continue backwards as he kicked your weapon across the smooth floor. Your back hit something hard- the ornate banister of the stairs, you guessed. Its circularity pressed uncomfortably against you like two incongruous puzzle pieces. His hands were idle at his sides as he stood before you, but the threat of the gun in his grip was not lost. There should've been nothing but fear, concern and dread in your system- but the warmth of old reverence was alarmingly present.

"I'm not here to play games with you. I have a proposition that would be beneficial for the both of us." His bass voice held no current belittlement and his gaze was hot despite being behind shades; you felt yourself unconsciously shrink back but quickly fixed that posture, hands coming forward instead of being curled around the banister. No! You couldn't fall to your knees so easily again, submitting to lies and deceit as though that lesson hadn't been learnt already- burnt inside you already. The knife wrapped around your thigh felt mocking.

"And that is?" Your voice did not waver, but if you had said more it probably would have. Another step forward and he was directly in front of you, leaning over like one does to a stationary art piece. He removed his sunglasses, head tilting lightly.

"Umbrella has failed you once, but it has failed me many times." He leant in now, dangerously close to your face, "I know they put you on the team to watch me. Only an utter fool would miss such a blatant move." Contempt was finally evident in his deep tone, but perhaps more than that- a mocking. Another step forward, and now, there was nothing but an inch separating your body from his; your gaze was averted, but your figure did not decline his physical invitation. Curses materialized in your throat once again, thick and prodding. "But I can move on from previous transgressions. Question is, can you?"

Your hand hovered close to the knife.

"So far I'm hearing nothing of value. What do I gain from this deal of yours, if anything?"

A devilish curl came upon his lips, encasing his face in its habitual aura of superiority. After a humorless chuckle left them, his free hand moved quick, quicker than yours could, and his ungloved fingers wrapped around your thigh, squeezing through the material of your knife's holster; he tore its velcro apart and tossed it with a clang to the floor, deft fingers proceeding to ghost over the plump skin. At the same time, he slipped his own weapon away and used the newly free hand to hold your chin; the grip was completely ungentle, instead, rough, hard against you.

"I thought it sensible to get rid of that first." The impish smirk remained- God, he was utterly intolerable. You smacked his grip away, reversing the roles and seizing his sculpted jaw with a similar lack of kindness; your back arched against the wood, and his clothed abdomen met yours.

"What do you want me to do?" The embers of desire for this traitor were not ones to be stoked. In fact, you definitely should be attempting to stamp them out, eradicate them with long-standing knowledge. But with this treacherous man now pressed against you, hands finding their way to your waist, you felt your resolve crumble as background, nefarious and plotting thoughts returned to the foreground of your conscious.

"The public is going to demand for police action once the virus spreads further. Once we get deployed, I'll get rid of everything besides what we need. Destroying Umbrella would be an interesting career note, don't you think?"

This was gearing up to be the worst decision of your entire life. And yet, the will to deny it was not present. The real query was: how long could your fallen allegiance with Umbrella stick with its new host?

"You'll destroy everything in the lab? All the evidence?" You ran a finger over his jawline, thoughts of contrast and concern ruling over your mind. Like a pet, the inclination to follow was immense, crushing, but with the gift of intelligence you knew this urge to be dangerous, idiotic even.

"Of course." His lips ghosted over your own; your eyes, two whirling pools of confliction, glanced to them, but he pulled away and let you go before any sweet contact swerved you into an entirely pleasant opinion. Wesker reached into his breast-pocket, pulling from it a laminated photo that became clear as he held it for your viewing. "I'll keep this as insurance. Nothing to concern yourself over."

The redness drained from your face nearly as quickly as the delusional fondness did from your chest. The photo was of Umbrella senior researchers on the first day of the Arklay laboratory opening; you were right in the center, glowing, smiling. Your expression now was the complete opposite of that young virologist's who you'd been, once.

Fresh anger cut through your soul- more at yourself than the traitor; humiliation cut into you, the painting's scattered around ridiculed you, and deep inside you knew your fate in life had already been sealed. You snatched up Wesker's jaw again, nails sinking into his skin as you pulled his flawless face right up to yours, lips on the utter brink of touch as you seethed,

"One mistake is I'll need. One! And I'll always be watching, waiting for that opportunity. I hope for your sake you don't start getting complacent- because I assure you, I won't."

[pancake-breakfast]

The final stretch for Volume 7! We got this!

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 7, Chapters 5-6 below.

Chapter 5: Late Arrival to the End of the World

CW: Body horror

Ugh, Wolfwood did it. He brought him all the way to Knives' citadel. I know this is where Vash wanted to go, but still....

Also, I'm just gonna note this is only volume 7, so things aren't exactly gonna resolve here.

Vash's plan of attack is terrible.

Geez, he's barely walked in and his power is already going off a bit. At least he looks calm about it for once.

Wolfwood!!! Crosses? Eye of Michael turning on him? (I mean, sure, they have reason, but....) Or... is this Legato? Legato does have a thing for skulls.

Uhhh...

I'd be more worried, but I was promised a couch, so mostly I'm just terribly confused.

Oh, gods. It wasn't real. How was I supposed to know it wasn't real?!?!

Sounds like it was Legato. We don't know much about Eye of Michael, but for some reason I don't think they have weird mind abilities like that. And if they do, then they'd probably get recruited into the Gung-Ho Guns. But Legato? We've already established he can communicate telepathically and he has an established motive (he's tsundere and Wolfwood's received "undue" attention from Knives), so I'd bet it's either him or some unknown party.

"The full VIP treatment." Yeah, sure whatever. Like, Vash is that important to Knives, but Knives doesn't see other people's wills (especially Vash's and the other Plants') as seperate enough from his own to actually be able to make good calls there.

I'm not convinced Vash will be fine, but he's not wrong that Wolfwood should be particularly careful.

Wolfwood's always surprised and a bit bummed at Vash perceiving things about him and then trying to take care of him. Silly man. It's ok for the people you're closest to to worry about you from time to time.

I love how he makes an attempt to stay back, but then he can't stop himself from trying to run after Vash. If it weren't for Elandira, he'd be right there... probably being a liability. Reminds me of a post someone made about Stampede and how Wolfwood was like, "Who in their right mind would go up against that (Knives)?" when the answer was Wolfwood. Wolfwood would try and go against Knives.

Oh, honey. Elandira's a badass, but that thing earlier was not her style.

YES EXACTLY. Elandira doesn't have beef with Wolfwood. If she's gonna pick a petty fight, it will be with Legato. Otherwise, she's just doing her job. And she certainly has no desire to tear Wolfwood limb from limb. If she's ordered to kill him, a nail through the head would be good enough for her.

They're still gonna throw hands, huh? He's that desperate to follow Vash? I'm sorry, but this goes way beyond job professionalism. Or sane behavior.

Ah, that's definitely an Eye of Michael Cross. Though IIRC, Legato was the one mucking around with EoM folks last time we saw them, so... maybe this is a joint "let's take out Wolfwood" effort.

Yyyyyyeeeeaaaaahhh... there's Livio and... I forgot the other one's name.

Wait, Elandira's got her nail gun pointed at Livio??

Is this wheelchair guy the real Chapel?

LOL, Elandira doesn't have time for their shit.

Livio's still firing stuff off into the sky just to make a point, I guess.

Ugh, he's talking about Livio like he's just a pet. And... it seems like he used to be in charge of Wolfwood, too.

I like the idea that this man just... wheelchaired backwards out of there for dramatic effect.

So, Wolfwood failed to kill the person he was trying to impersonate, and he fell for his mark. I'm beginning to think he might be a sub-par assassin. (I joke, but I'm guessing it's less a matter of skill and more a matter of too much heart.)

LOL, Elandira casually flirting with Wolfwood. Probably not flirting-flirting so much as just trying to annoy him a bit.

GG Wolfwood, misgendering the canon trans person. /s At least he caught himself.

Yeah, I don't think it's blind faith from Elandira so much as it's acceptance of the inevitable demise of everything at the hands of the twins.

WTH is this stupid temple thing Vash is going to? Did Knives build himself a stupid temple??

Knives, buddy.... That canNOT be healthy.

Look at Elandira, that badass. We know Wolfwood's pretty tough, but she just wades through Knives waking up without batting an eyelash. Meanwhile, Wolfie's having to take her advice to not pass out under serious consideration.

IDK how I feel about an impending giant angel fight. Wait, yes I do. Not good. I feel not good about it. Very not good about it.

Chapter 6: Conflict

CW: Body horror, SA imagery

Oh, we're starting with Legato? That's... great. Just great.

Vash? Serious? Never!

Goshdarnit, Knives. I get you're doing this for your brother and I guess you probably don't have any intention of setting off his angel arm at this time, but... like... this isn't healthy. So very not healthy.

At least he's not surprised Vash is shooting at him this time?

Dude, your name is Millions Knives, not Hundred Guns. Put those away.

Legato, WTF are you doing?! With this... little... giant... skull scythe arm thing... just... scootching along the floor, I guess....

"Why are you so worked up?" It's because senpai hasn't noticed him and is paying attention to someone else. Duh.

This pouty face, though. I just can't with this man. He's such a freaking mess. Please throw him in the sea.

Knives: "I'm sure you understand now." Knives, a few pages later: "Dammit, Vash! How come you don't understand?!"

I love this because, in spite of everything, it's just not. Hells, it was only a few minutes back that Wolfwood tried to follow him into hell for no other reason than because he cares about Vash, and Wolfwood knows. Wolfwood knows all of it. Knives really needs to get out and meet more people.

OMG BABYGIRL <3 <3 <3 PROTECT HIM I LOVE HIM SM

In Stampede, Vash basically gives this whole speech to Knives, doesn't he?

Ah, dramatic coattails have become even more dramatic. This time on purpose and not just for artistic effect.

Not really sure what's unplugging here. Part of Vash's outfit?

Ah, yeah, that was it. I guess it's now a gun, too?

Ha! He's using the other tube to reload. Something something Stampede.

Knives... don't power that thing up.

Gods, Legato just looks like a muppet on this page.

I'm sorry, but the image of him slowly ker-plinking slowly up all those stairs in his little bag with his silly little mechanical scythe attachment thing is hilarious.

VASH. YOU PUT THAT AWAY, TOO!!! Ugh, for once I'm grateful for whatever the hell Knives is about to do to get in Vash's way.

Wait. WAIT, I TAKE IT BACK.

Knives, your logic SUCKS.

Don't worry! Someone has arrived to save the day! Behold, our hero... *checks notes* Legato Bluesummers?

I mean, fr, he's probably pretty upset already that Knives has merged with people other than himself. I guess merging with someone who he thinks might affect Knives's consciousness is too much? IDEK.

Going for some more overt rape imagery here, I see.

Gods, Knives doesn't even call Bluesummers by his name. He's just "you."

Folks... I've seen '98. I have spoilers. I know Legato's gonna break me in all different ways all too soon. But right now? I can't get over how much of a crazed muppet he is and it's just making me laugh through all the serious stuff here. But look at him! He's so giddy! Knives-sama has given him a Very Important Job! Knives-sama recognized Legato and knows Legato is here to help! Knives-sama knows this is a job for only Legato, because Legato is that dedicated to Knives-sama and is the only, ONLY person who should be at Knives-sama's side!

Oh. Yeah, I'm also worried about Vash here. I just got distracted by Legato's stupid face. I should add it to my collage.

I'm trying to decide if that's Wolfwood on the right of this shot. It looks an awful lot like Wolfwood.

Author Bonus Chapter

LOL, otaku boat....

Is that a Vash head half buried in the sand? Looking very annoyed?

Oh, I guess there was a Trigun game. I don't really know anything about it.

Waaaaaiiiiiit, that's not Trigun! That's Gungrave!

Ha! I remember when a game with dynamic world elements like that was considered top-of-the-line....

What's with this list of target audience people?

Archive

Trigun Vol. 1: Covers + 1-3, 4, 5-6, 7-8, 9-10 || Vol. 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Vol. 1: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 2: Covers + 1, 2-4, 5, 6-7 || Vol. 3: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-7 || Vol. 4: Covers + 1-2, 3-5, 6-7 || Vol. 5: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 6: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 7: Covers + 1-2, 3-4

Extra Credit: Trigun Vol. 1: Nebraska vs. Vash's Motivations, Vash's Loneliness, Vash's Depression (pt 2 of post), Soupy Brains || Vol. 2: Coin Factoids || TriMax Vol. 1: Lina, Vash, and a Haircut || Meryl, Vash, and the Pursuit of Happiness || Vol. 5: Knives, Vash, and Hatred for Humanity || Vol. 6: Coping Series: Wolfwood, Meryl, Vash

[overobsessedfanboy23]

Timeline of me becoming smitten with Kuaidul

(Basically just me recounting my thought process during episodes 74-77 in more detail of why and where this Kuaidul obsession of mine came from. At the time, I had fallen behind on Go Rush and episode 76 was the latest episode, with episode 77 in the process of being subtitled.)

Episode 74:

Oh, the person behind the darkness cards is a new character? Not just some Sevens fanservice guy? Hell yeah! I'm down for that! Please have absolutely no connection to Yuga or Otes!

Episode 75:

...fuck, he's talking about a 'road' just like Yuga and Otes. Oh no... Please be original, new guy who looks a bit like Yudias. It's gonna take me a while to learn your name.

...wow, he uh... he has a really cool voice... in that... villainous yet attractive way that I like... His name is Kuaidul right?

Oh my gosh! His plan is so over the top and insane! This is so cool! Oh my god, am I actually invested in Go Rush's plot again?! Kuaidul! You're a miracle worker!

Episode 76:

Pfffft! "I'm so excited to see rush duels!" Is that seriously your motive?! That's... kind of amazing. What a dork. He reminds me of how Ai was when he was a villain.

HE'S THE REASON THE WHOLE SHOW HAPPENED?! WHA- ...wow. So he's super silly and entertaining AND actually competent and intimidating?! That's everything I love in a villain! I... think I have a new favourite Go Rush character. Damn, maybe I am starting to get a crush. He does have a cute dorky smile and attractive voice... I dunno, it's a little soon to tell for sure...

My Wait Between 76 and 77:

While messaging my partner the next day: ...wait wasn't Kuaidul's motivation explained? Wasn't it... Him feeling like a pawn of the Creator or something? ...hold up... Is he sympathetic or am I going crazy?

Rewatching episode 75:

...So he feels like he can't control anything and wants to create a world where he can control everything....

His entire motivation is just an unhealthy version of my writing coping mechanism?

......I think I'm in love.

Episode 77:

.......did he just ask his dad if he prefers a card game to him?! What the hell?! Is he gonna be another character with parental trauma? Because... That's also relatable...

Shit, do they actually want me to sympathize with him? I thought I was reaching earlier but... they might actually want me to sympathise with him! ...I love that in a villain too-

Oh... aw :( I didn't expect him to cry... Surely he has to be redeemed with a backstory THIS sad right? There's no way they won't, not after all the other villain redemptions in this series. I think... I actually want that for Kuaidul though...

P-please don't cry... Oh god. You look so soft and vulnerable for a villain... I wanna give you a hug. I'm so sorry. You deserve better than what that guy did to you. Please be redeemed.

Okay... guess he's gonna be a villain for a while longer. That's cool and all, he's a great villain and it would probably be a waste to redeem him after only a few episodes but... Man, I just... Hope he'll be okay...

....Yeah okay fine, this is definitely a crush.

[cardentist]

to add to my jay posting from earlier [Link 1, Link 2]

a Particularly Irritating part of people being weird about horror protagonists making decisions that would be socially unacceptable in Normal circumstances is when that standard isn't upheld Evenly.

the two biggest examples in marble hornets is the way that people will Seriously hold him accountable for stalking and leaking tim's medical records when. he did those things because he was being stalked by multiple people (including By Tim) and had tim's records leaked To Him.

there are masked people who have been stalking him for years and communicating to him through clues, who seem to be hostile in one moment and saving him from a serial killer the next. he doesn't know their motives, as they won't just speak clearly with him. but they Do frequently send him clues.

he finds out that One of these masked people is tim, and while tim claims to not remember (something that We know is true) jay has also been lied to before. jay shows caution and tries to figure out if he can trust tim, if tim is dangerous and if tim knows more than he's letting on.

this eventually leads into a blow up fight, where tim cuts contact with him (understandably, from tim's perspective).

while this is all happening, The Other Member Of This Masked Group Is Still Stalking And Documenting Both Of Them.

this other member Searches For and Finds tim's medical records, hides them in a tunnel system under ground, contacts jay to tell him that he has an Important Clue That He Has To Know and Explicitly tells jay that tim is lying to him.

and in a way they're both right. this other person finds out that the operator sickness that's been affecting all of them had been affecting Tim when he was a child, that he was likely patient zero. but Tim had grown up assuming he was just a mentally ill person, that the monster he was afraid of wasn't real.

likewise, Jay doesn't know what's going on with anyone, what their motives are or what they know or if they want to hurt him (well, besides the serial killer and the monster of course). moreover, If tim had remembered, If tim knew then it would be proof that tim really Was lying to him, that he really Was withholding information, and could recontextualize what happened (which, of course We know that wasn't the case, but jay didn't).

and if the question is "why post it Specifically online" then we Do have an answer. there's a monster running around that very intentionally wipes peoples memories, with jay loosing anywhere from hours to days to weeks to Months at a time, and both physical evidence and video have been stolen from him and erased from his devices before. any information that he doesn't have recorded and posted can be stolen from him, including from his own mind.

All Parties here were understandable in the way they felt, All Parties here were reacting to an extreme situation, all parties had the right to be suspicious and feel betrayed.

but it's Only Jay that I see Specifically held accountable for doxing tim. both in jokes and in serious meta analysis. this is considered a character flaw, a wrongdoing.

and it's So Ridiculous to me when people just Don't extend the same sentiment to the character who Actually Found Tim's Medical Documents And Gave Them To Him.

jay is called out for stalking and breaking and entering and doing weird and socially unacceptable shit but if you put on a mask and run around making cryptic youtube videos it's just like. Fine when you do it.

and I Get It. there's no point in holding, say, a serial killer accountable for stalking when he is literally a murderer that has killed people with guns.

but it's Ridiculous to have people watch tim literally sit on jay's dresser like a spider monkey while watching jay sleep and then call Jay Out for stalking Tim later when he's trying to figure out if tim is gonna kill him with rocks or not if he approaches.

and it's all the More ridiculous when tim really Was keeping something from jay specifically because Tim ended the series fully believing that his alter/the actions he took while wearing the mask were evil when they weren't. Jay's in the wrong for being suspicious of tim because of the actions he saw him take as masky, but Even Tim was mislead into believing that masky's actions were suspicious

jay's not allowed to React to his situation but the other characters are allowed to Be the situation, and it's Weird.

[justfangirlstuffs]

Imagine DLA reader forcing moon and Monty getting along and the reader just forces monty to give moon flowers thinking it would be sweet while moon and sun is just trying to progress the whole thing

This got away from me a little bit, but it was fun to write.

A side adventure for my Little Assistant fic. Very Monty heavy. Like way more than I was expecting.

Making Amends

You x Monty (bonding)

It was one of those days when Elliot invited you as a tag-a-long for his maintenance duties. Only, this time he seemed to have an ulterior motive. He explained to your mom that he needed to help repair Montgomery Gator's room and that Monty seemed to be more behaved when there were kids around. Your mom was understandably concerned, but you assured her that you met Monty once before and he treated you fine.

“Sun, are you okay if I go help Elliot for a bit?” you asked him.

Sun sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his forehead in a very woe-is-me pose. “I suppose I'll survive. My little assistant abandoning me in my waning hours when I am most bereft and in need.”

“Cool, I knew you'd understand,” you said, giving him the thumbs up and turning to walk away. Sun made a squawk of surprise and you snickered, turning back and giving him a hug around his middle. “I'll spend a little extra time on your post-shift wipe-down to make it up to you. How does that sound?”

He rubbed your head through your uniform cap. “That sounds delightful. Have fun, Starshine.”

You went with Elliot to Rockstar Row, and you noticed immediately that Monty's curtains were drawn. Again. This was a regular occurrence you were noticing. You winced when you heard a large bang coming from inside the room.

Elliot rubbed his neck, sweating pinballs. “If anything happens, get behind me or leave the room as fast as you can, alright?”

“Okay,” you agreed.

Elliot led you to the door of Monty's green room. He knocked, then called out, “Monty, I'm coming in!” and then used his badge to open the door. This wasn't your first visit to Monty's room, nor was it the first time you'd caught Monty in the middle of 'blowing off steam' as he had called it. Even still, seeing a bulky animatronic gator standing in the middle of a scene of destruction was not the most comforting of sights.

As soon as the door opened, Monty's head jerked towards the two of you. “Howdy there, Monty,” Elliot greeted, using a very cordial tone that contradicted his earlier tension.

A low growl rumbled from Monty and though he was wearing shades, you saw his snout twitch lower so that his face was more directed at you peeking out from behind the handyman. “You brought a kid? Autograph sessions are over.”

“They're my friend's kid. They're just here to observe,” Elliot explained, keeping his tone measured.

Monty glared at you, his face leaning in an inch or two before suddenly drawing back. “Wait a second, I remember you.”

“I remember you too,” you answered, daring to step out from behind Elliot's figure. “Thanks again, by the way.”

Monty glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn't do nuthin',” he mumbled.

Elliot breathed out a sigh of utter relief. “Alright, welp, I'm just gonna assess the damages. Don't mind me.”

He began wandering the green room, taking note of what was broken and needed to be replaced. Monty shot him a glare but made to move to stop him. It was clear though that the gator was barely tolerating the man's presence.

You edged up to Monty and he stiffened looking down at you. “You don't like people In your room, do you?”

Monty snorted, a hissing sound strongly reminiscent of the noises you'd hear in his gator golf attraction. “Would you enjoy people just letting themselves into your space uninvited?”

You shook your head, feeling guilty. “Sorry... and sorry again about the time before.”

Monty wordlessly turned and stomped over to the couch which was definitely gonna need replacing. The green upholstery had been shredded and the insides were littered around the place. Even so, Monty sat down on it and looked at you. “Well? Don't just stand there gawkin'. Have a seat.”

“Oh, okay,” you said and shuffled over to the couch, sitting down on one of the cushions that wasn't completely mangled. You noticed Elliot was keeping a close eye on you between his note-taking. “So, bad day?”

“What?” Monty asked, looking at you.

It was hard not to be intimidated by the teeth, but you did your best not to think about how sharp they might be. “Did you have a bad day?” you asked, gesturing to the room. “You obviously were blowing off some steam. You wanna talk about it?”

“No!” Monty barked.

“Okay, sorry,” you mumbled, picking at a wad of couch stuffing that was poking out right beside you.

An awkward silence followed for a few beats, only filled by the shuffling of Elliot's shoes as he tried to navigate through the debris. In that time, Monty's crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and then crossed them again. It was like he couldn't get comfortable. He let out another snorting hiss that made you jump a little.

“I was hosting a birthday party, and I brought out the cake. But then the parents start yelling at me that it was the wrong cake. Like it's my fault. I don't make the cakes I just deliver what's given to me, you know?”

You nodded emphatically, letting him know he had your full attention.

“So, this parent is screaming at me that I ruined the kid's birthday party, and the kid starts crying, and all the other kids start screaming because they want cake. And I'm trying to tell this woman to just let me go get a different cake and then one of the kids throws their soda and gets it all over me. Then in walks Mister Congeniality himself...”

“I'm sorry, who?” you asked.

“Who else? Freddy Fazbear.” His hands curled into fists as he says the name. “He just walks up to the parents and apologizes for the inconvenience and basically hijacks the entire party and tells me to leave so I can go clean up and relax. Can you believe that?”

“I mean, yeah, people totally suck sometimes,” you murmured. “Oh, sorry. I'm not supposed to use that word, right?”

Monty snorted. “I don't care. Do you know how many curses I hear in a single day?”

Okay, so he didn't have an anti-swear protocol like Sun and Moon. Neat. “But it sounds like Freddy was just trying to be helpful?”

“I never asked for his help. Him coming in there and taking over, it's like he thinks I can't handle a simple birthday party.”

“Do you like handling birthday parties?”

“What does THAT matter?” Monty asked you. “It don't matter if I like 'em or not, it's part of my job.” He rubbed at his shoulder. “'Sides... I don't mind entertaining kids. Kids are fine, and birthdays are important to 'em. It wasn't even my fault the party was ruined and I wasn't even given a chance to fix it.” Monty hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Now that he was finished venting, he just seemed tired.

You waited for a few beats before asking, “You need a hug?”

Monty's head jerked to look at you. “What?”

“Sunny always gives me hugs when I'm feeling down. He says hugs are magical and make people feel better and that everyone needs a hug once in a while.”

“That sounds like something he would say.” Based on Monty's tone, he was not saying it as a compliment.

Immediately feeling defensive on Sun's behalf, you puffed yourself up. “Sunny is my best friend and I will fight you.”

Monty stared down at you for a beat and snorted, his hand patting your head, surprisingly gentle for his bulk. “You're alright, kid.” He at his shoulder again, glancing away. “I don't need a hug... but if you were wanting one, then... I guess I could humor you.”

You grinned and took him up on the offer, leaning over and hugging him around the torso. Unlike Sun and Moon, you could not get your hands full around him for how bulky he was. However, one of his hands patted your back and you swore you felt his body relax under your touch. You could faintly hear the hum of his inner workings, though it sounded different from the noises you were used to hearing from Sun and Moon.

“Hey, kiddo. Come along, I gotta go grab some equipment to start cleaning up this mess,” Elliot called out.

“I wanna stay with Monty,” you said, before glancing up at the gator. “Er, if that's okay with you?”

You couldn't fully tell, but you thought he looked a little surprised behind his shades. “Yeah, fine by me.”

“Okay.” Elliot looked a little apprehensive, however, glancing between the pair of you, he relented. “I'll be back in a jiffy.” Then he exited the room.

Once he was gone, Monty made a grumbling noise, like clearing his throat. “So, uh, kid... since I did you a favor, think you could do me one?”

You looked up at him. “I thought you said, and I quote 'I didn't do nuthin'.” You only waited for a beat to let that joke hang before saying, “I'm kidding. What do you need?”

“I feel like after what happened, Moon's been avoiding me. I think he's mad about... you know, and since you're so chummy with them, thought maybe you could put in a good word?”

“Why not give him a gift to show your sorry,” you suggested. “Like flowers. Used to, whenever my mom was upset, my dad would bring her flowers or something and they usually made up.”

“Where am I supposed to get flowers?” he asked you pointedly.

“Hmm, okay. Well, why not draw them? Sun and Moon love getting art.”

Monty scratched at his hair. “I... don't really know what flowers look like. Haven't really seen many of 'em around here.”

“I can help with that!” you answered brightly, now fully on board with helping Monty make a gift for Moon.

From your Bonnie backpack -which you took almost everywhere with you- you pulled out some paper and markers. You saw Monty eyeing your backpack and wondered if that was still a sore subject for him.

“Life with the band treating you okay?” you asked tentatively.

“Fine,” he muttered, but you sensed it was not 'fine'.

“I can't say I know what you're going through, but I know what it's like to be the new kid, and I know what it's like to be put somewhere you don't wanna be. It really sucks, and you hate it cuz like, you didn't choose this so why are you getting punished for it? But... sometimes... things end up working out, and then it's not so bad.” You noticed he was staring at you and you flushed, quickly shaking your head. “Sorry, I know I talk too much sometimes.”

“S'fine,” Monty murmured. He awkwardly picked up one of your markers between his claws. “So... um... what flowers should I draw?”

You spent the next hour helping Monty draw a variety of flowers, along with a short apology note. Elliot was in and out with another staff member, doing cleaning while you worked. At one point, when it was just you and Monty, you heard Sun's voice coming from your watch.

“Starshine, are you almost done?”

“Yeah, I'll be back soon,” you answered. Looking up at Monty, you said, “I can take this to Moon if you want.”

“I'll come with you,” Monty said, getting up from the couch. “I'd rather it be in person from me, ya know?”

“I get that.” You shoved your stuff back into your bag and shouldered it. “Are you allowed to leave Rockstar row?'

“Under certain conditions, like escorting a kid back to their parent.”

So, when Elliot came back, you let him know Monty would be taking you back to the daycare. He seemed rather enthused about this, maybe because it meant he and the other staff member could clean without worrying about getting in Monty's way. On the way, you made small talk, asking Monty about things he enjoyed doing in his free time. You learned he actually did enjoy mini golf and asked you if you've ever played at his golf course. You admitted you tried a couple times, but the sound effects were so scary and jarring that you had a hard time focusing on golfing, but the overall design was really neat. Monty then offered you should come golfing when he was hosting and he'd make it not so scary. It was a nice gesture, you felt.

When you arrived back at the daycare, Sun was there to welcome you with open arms. “Oh, I missed you,” he cooed, snuggling you in his arms.

You giggled. “I wasn't gone for that long.”

“It felt like an eternity,” he bemoaned. Shifting you to one arm, he raised the other in a friendly wave. “Hey there, Montgomery! Thank you for bringing our Starshine back to us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Monty grumbled, clutching the handmade card in his hand. “I got something for ya to give to Moon.”

“Wait, you gotta read it,” you told him.

“Now?” Monty demanded.

“Yes! Moon will hear it, right?” you asked Sun.

“He sure will.”

Monty grumbled but opened the card carefully so as not to tear it. “To Moon, sorry 'bout what happened. Please take these flowers, and this joke: What do you...” He paused, groaning.

“Come on,” you urged gently.

He let out a low, hissing sigh, but he continued. “What do you call an alligator with a compass?”

“I don't know, Monty,” Moon said from your watch. “What?”

“A... navi-gator.”

Sun made a few snorting giggles before breaking down into full-on hysterics, clutching you tightly so that he didn't accidentally drop you. Monty, for his part, looked so thoroughly not amused. “What a delightful joke!” Sun walked over, plucking the card from Monty's hands. “This is definitely going up on the wall.”

“That ain't necessary,” Monty said gruffly.

“Oh, I insist!” Sun said cheerfully. “Consider all forgiven, Monty.”

“Agreed,” Moon said from the watch. “I'll swing by your room later tonight.”

Monty seemed a little relieved to hear this. “Great. I mean, fine. If you want. I don't care.” There was an awkward pause before he said, “I gotta go.” Then he turned and exited the daycare.

“He's such a nice fellow,” Sun commented.

“He is,” you agreed.

Your mom, who had been relaxing at her desk watching the whole thing, sighed. “I love working here.”

[storiesofsvu]

Hey girl! Glad you have some time off!

How about Mike Dodds - "what exactly am I looking at here?"

hahahah I MEAN, i only work 2-3 days a week anyways LOL. but having particularly Saturday off is weird cause our numbers are usually higher on Sat (hence why im the second bartender in, it's more guaranteed that i'll end up working) but it's a long weekend so i guess not this week (but ive gotta manage tmr so...)

ALSO, gonna do these as like, little blurbs/sceanrios so i don't put too much effort into them and lose all the motivation to work on the ch's i'm also doin rn lol

You loved Mike with all of your heart, you had from the moment you'd laid eyes on him. Goofy grin on his cheeks, laugh barely faded from them, sparkle in his eye as he joked with a friend. Then he glanced your way, catching you watching and everything from the smile to the sparkle grew by a tenfold. You blushed, quickly glancing away before looking up again and his gaze was still on you, the smile softer, but one that you'd never forget.

It didn't take much longer after that first night for the two of you to fall in love. You spent each weekend together, exploring the city and taking full advantage of the autumn celebrations. As the weather cooled you took even more advantage of the excuse to curl up inside on the couch with a fuzzy blanket, giving Mike puppy dog eyes until he gave you all the perfect cuddles you desired. You were engaged on New Year's Eve, at an intimate yet fancy party at the Dodd's brownstone and there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

You had the perfect life together, and not long after the wedding you gained another family member when you gave birth to your first child. After your second was born, Mike started to feel a little apprehensive about continuing on his work with the NYPD. He wanted to make sure that you and the kids would always have him, that he wasn't going anywhere and he couldn't guarantee that with his career. So he put in his papers, retired from the NYPD with a full pension to be a stay at home dad and he had never been happier.

Mike was an amazing husband, and he was an even more incredible father. You weren't sure how he would handle it at first but he was an absolute rock star. You'd get the kids up in the morning together before Mike would give you a kiss and the kids would swarm you with hugs before you left for work. And each day when you got home dinner was at least started if not ready while the kids were tuckered out on the couch occupied with tv, colouring or playing quietly together. They'd tell you about how Dad took them on adventures each day, and occasionally you'd get presents from places like the zoo or aquarium, or sometimes even just a cool rock from their time at the park. Whatever adventures they went on you were never really sure, especially on the days that they didn't leave the house.

That was until you decided to call it a half day and left work early. You picked up a pizza, some soda and a case of beer for Mike on the way home. You knew you were earlier than normal so you expected a little bit of a surprise, but you certainly weren't expecting what was on the other side of the door.

The living room was both torn apart and put back together. The torn apart meant the cushions of the couch were gone, blankets strewn across the room. The put back together meaning that they were all intricately hung up around the room, stuck to the ceiling beams and extending out, pinned to the walls on either side. It appeared they'd used every blanket and towel in the house to make the ultimate blanket fort, full of every single pillow and the blow up mattresses you used for guests. The fort overtook the tv and you could hear it playing, little giggles and laughter coming from within. You placed your shopping down on the counter and the sound alerted Mike, his head popping out of the corner of the fort. He had that wicked bright smile on his face and you couldn't help but smile in return.

"What...exactly am I looking at here?" You asked, raising a brow and Mike laughed. Before he could even reply the shrieks of your children echoed through the room before they burst from the fort, racing toward you for hugs and kisses.

"Daddy helped us make the best fort!" Your daughter squealed, shrieking as you scooped her up, peppering her face with kisses.

"It's real cozy inside!" Your son explained, accepting the kiss you dropped onto the top of his head.

"I'll bet. How about you two go wash your hands and we can have dinner?" They scurried off down the hallway as Mike crawled out of the fort.

"You're home early." He greeted you with a tender kiss, "sorry. i was planning on having it all cleaned up."

"Don't worry about." You popped up on your toes to kiss him once more, "I got pizza. is it really that comfy in there?" You nodded toward the fort and he laughed, but nodded.

"Surprisingly so."

"Well, it's almost halloween, let's do some festive movies and have dinner in the fort."

There were gleeful shrieks from both kids at that, jumping up and down as they got to choose what kind of pop they wanted with their dinner. Mike wrangled things while you got changed into something cozier and the four of you made your way back into the fort. Mike tossed an arm around you as the two of you leant back into the bottom of the couch and once pizza was done you each ended up with a kid on your lap. Wiped out from their full adventure day with dad it didn't take long before both of them were asleep in your arms and you were carrying them to be tucked into bed.

"I'll clean this up." Mike murmured, kissing your cheek as he nodded toward the living room and you let out a little hum.

"Why don't we leave it for the weekend? Have a little more fun."

"Ya sure?"

"Yeah." You looped your arms around his shoulders, kissing him again, "i love you."

"i love you too."

________________ @fandom-princess-forevermore @hhroadgirl @qvid-pro-qvo @skittle479 @altsvu  @lawandorderimagines @whimsicallymad @classylady1234 @averyhotchner @mysticfalls01 @plaidbooks @mrsrafaelbarba @ssaic-jareau @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @rafivadafreddy @australiancarisi @wandas-wife @thestarrynightslover @lustvolle-liebe @sia2raww @cycat4077@xoxabs88xox @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @borg-queer @misscharlielulu