#also trying my hand at image descriptions ! let me know if there’s anything I can do to improve it :)

[arvensimp]

your father should know, pt. 4

Arven leaves you with something more than either of you bargained for when he goes off to Kalos for an internship, and through a series of miscommunications and heartbreak, he returns a few years later to learn that he actually has a child.

arven x fem!reader, nsfw content (in pt. 1), pregnancy (pts. 1, 2, & 2.5), angst, and stupid miscommunications

[part 1][part 2][part 2.5][part 3]

I'M HERE AGAIN THANKS FOR THE WAIT. SORRY ABOUT BEING THE WAY I AM LMAO please enjoy the next installment. it's not beta'd i'm out here livin like larry

~

[Group Chat: Team Star? More Like, Time To Go To HR AmIRight???]

WalkWalkFashionBaby: hey @ ParadoxChamp is this your man?

WalkWalkFashionBaby: [sent a photo]

[Image description: A man with wavy, longish ash blond and light brown hair, accompanied by a Mabosstiff, walking down the streets of Mesagoza. His hands are in his pockets, and he seems to be smiling.]

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: ?????????

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: !!!!!!!?!

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: yo wtf 

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: first of all that deadbeat isnt her man ortega

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: second

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: yea uh

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: @ paradoxchamp did you know he was back in town???????

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: third @ giacomo4pm momo if you don't change our nicknames in this chat back to normal I will absolutely dox you (again) and then change them back myself

Giacomo4pm: Can do, will do.

Giacomo4pm: Also, yo, damn, what's he doing back? I thought he fled the country or whatever.

--

Rika: so the sperm donor's here. Just came up the hill asking for you. Want me to send him packing?

Rika: yeah u do

Rika: well... I do.

Rika: also unrelated, holy sHIT, man's genes are strong. It's like I'm looking into a time machine for Basil's future.

Rika: except, you know. Basil will be way cooler and more handsome with your genes mixed in.

Rika: ❤️

Rika: plus no shitty facial hair.

Rika: or better facial hair.

Rika: anyway, I'm gonna eviscerate him.

Rika: love you. ❤️

--

You had been in Area Zero, gathering information on moth pokemon for Jacq when the director called, his usually placid voice laced with an edge of steel.

"Basil's father just stopped by." He says without preamble.

Your heart sinks, and you nearly lose your grip on Raidon, only barely managing to stay upright and drag the pokemon to a halt.

"His what?" You splutter, changing the phone to your other ear, as if you hadn't heard correctly.

"His father." The director repeats. "I know we have not...explicitly discussed Basil's paternity, but, well," He tsks lightly. "He showed up to speak to me."

Your head is filled with tarountula webbing. You feel your hearing go fuzzy, but somehow your hands direct Raidon up and toward the closest lab station. Out, out, out. Back to the school. Back to Basil, back to--

"I'm on my way to the entrance to Area Zero now." Clavell continues when you don't reply after a few moments. "I'll meet you there with Basil."

"What did he want?" You finally ask as you enter the station.

"I didn't give him the opportunity to chitchat."

You hum. "One second, Sir." You step into the transport pad.

A moment later, and Clavell is right in front of you, Basil tucked safely in his stroller, looking just as he did when you dropped him off this morning, save for his hair looking a little...off. You disregard it.

"Thank you so much." You sigh, hanging up the phone as Clavell gives you a sad sort of smile.

"Anything for you two." He says.

You kneel and try to fluff up your son's hair, but it has dried all crunchy from whatever happened during the day. He's getting a bath later, so you don't fret over it and just smile warmly to him, trying not to let your panic show.

"Ready to go home, sweet thing?" You ask him.

Basil nods, reaching with little hands for yours in his hair. "Mhmm!" He nods. "Ahso, Mama! I saw a big buddy! A big, BIG buddy!"

Clavell clears his throat and provides some context. "Mabosstiff said hello."

You look up to the director, knowing exactly which Mabosstiff he must mean. "Oh? Mabosstiff! That's...that's so great!" If your register is maybe just a touch too high, your smile too tight, it's only to maintain face in front of the boy to whom you turn back. "Were you kind? Remember how we always wanna be nice to new pokemon, yeah?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh! He gived me a kisses! A lotsa kisses!"

So that's the crunch in his hair.

Oh, Mabosstiff...

"That's my sweet boy." You sigh, ruffling the mess before standing again to face the director.

"Thanks again. I'm gonna..." Another long exhale. "I'm gonna get us home."

Clavell nods. "You know how to reach me if you need something. And... Well, if you want me to intercede on your behalf, I'm happy to have words." He says stoically. "At times I felt I was the closest thing..." He gestures with his head outward toward the school. "He had to a parent in his life... I..." It's his turn to sigh. "I don't understand what happened there. How he could do what his own parents did to him? I'm sorry. If it's any consolation."

Your heart squeezes, and you distract yourself from the feeling by digging your nails into the soft foam of the handles of Basil's stroller. "Don't be. He made his choice, y'know?" You try to smile, but it's shaky. "He deserves to have the life he wants."

"He deserves a kick in the pants." Clavell responds. "Not that I'm an advocate for corporal punishment..." He adjusts his glasses in that grandfatherly way.

You laugh.

"Well, if he sticks around long enough, maybe you'll get a chance."

You hope he doesn't stick around.

Or...do you?

Do you even want to see him?

Either way, you don't want to linger on it in the lab.

"I'm gonna take this little one home."

Clavell nods. "Until later."

And then you're calling a cab to get back to your place, and Clavell is on his way back to the office.

While you're in the cab, you check your messages and sigh. Seems like Ortega caught a glimpse of Arven, and Rika is...fucking with him in some way or another.

You ignore your old classmates and opt to just text Rika.

Me: Got Basil from Clavell and we're on our way home rn/

Me: Love you too ofc 💖💖

A minute or so later, your phone buzzes. Rika again.

Rika: he's gone now

Rika: I put the fear of arceus in him if i do say so myself

You roll your eyes, smiling wryly. By now the cab is slowly descending to the space just outside your home, so you pocket the device and maneuver Basil in his stroller out of the cramped space and into the house.

Once he's unbuckled from his seat, he's bouncing around and grabbing at the attached bag, the one containing Buddy's pokeball, asking in broken syllables if they can play. 

It isn't a huge deal to let the pup out of the ball to play, so you hand it over to Basil, reminding him how to behave with his friend. At the same time, you also release Skeledirge to keep a watchful eye over the pair for a moment.

In the weeks since the Raisins Incident, as you've called it, you've come to the realization that your team can be of some assistance to you when you need a moment to yourself, when you're overwhelmed. Obviously Skeledirge isn't a parent. Neither is Raidon or Tinkaton or Screamtail or anyone else, but Skeledirge is smart enough to keep them safe for the precious seconds you need to breathe.

So you let the three alone in the living room and retire to your bedroom for a moment to collapse on the bed and gather your thoughts. You only need a few seconds. Just a few seconds of Mama time...just a few.

There's a sound at your open door as Basil toddles in, two pokemon in tow.

"Mama... Hungy?" He asks, clenching his shirt in tiny balled fists.

"Oh, sweetness..." You sigh, leaning down to pick him up and seat him securely on your lap. "You're hungry?" You press your face into his head, expecting its usual downy softness and the comfort of your child's scent, only to be met with that uncomfortable crunch of dried Mabosstiff slobber. Out of Basil's line of sight, your nose crinkles. "Let's see what we've got in the kitchen, yeah?"

"Toast? Toast 'n jellies?" He asks hopefully.

"I think we could do that, my littlest..." You respond with a smile, hefting your boy onto your hip as you trudge into the kitchen.

Of course, it would be just your luck that you're entirely out of oran jelly, the only jelly that Basil will eat right now. Thank you, developing taste buds and picky eating...

Maybe he won't notice if you try to give him pinap jelly instead this once?

You prepare his plate, the toast lovingly cut into four triangles, and you give him his sippy cup as well, but Basil only stares down unhappily at the food.

"Jellies?" He asks, his tiny button nose wrinkling.

"Yeah, Baby, I made you toast and jelly." Your heart clenches, anxiety rising, but you try to keep your voice chipper.

"Nuh-uh!" He insists, pushing the plate away.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We don't have the usual jelly. Do you wanna try this instead?"

Your son looks at you with wide eyes, rapidly filling with tears. His lower lip wobbles, and his brow furrows angrily. Times like these it's almost crazy how much he looks like...

No, focus!

"It's good, I promise. Wanna see? Mama will have some." You take a bite of one of the triangles and make a show of smiling. "Mmm! So yummy! It's really tasty!"

"No!" Basils yells in response, his tiny tears now falling. Hangry isn't a good look on the little guy.

"Ahhh, we gotta get you something to eat, huh, bud."

"Jellies!" He blubbers, only barely understandable through his tantrum. Buddy the Maschiff jumps up, placing his front paws on Basil's feet, trying to get at the food, and Basil complies, shoving it down to the pup.

You sigh. "Alright."

Buddy re-enters his ball, still chewing the bread, and you take Basil from his high chair, depositing him in his stroller.

"We'll go to the market and get your good jelly, okay? Super duper fast, then we'll come home and have a feast."

Basil is still crying, but the promise of his good jelly seems to placate him somewhat.

It'll be fine anyway. The market is only a short walk from your apartment building, and you'll only be out for a few minutes. 

The journey there is easy. Basil's stroller is one of those fancy transforming models that's great for all kinds of terrain while also being pretty light. It helps that the market is all outdoors, too. Less helpful is the fact that the stalls are fairly narrowly placed beside one another. At least it feels that way with all the people around, but it isn't overly cumbersome to navigate.

"Jellies!" Basil starts to whine as you approach the stall that he's come to learn has his favorite snack. He starts making grabby hands towards the jars along the table, and you attempt to quietly stop him.

"Yup! They've got your jelly here. Once I pay, you can hold the jar, if you like. Sound good?"

"I pick, I pick!" Basil insists, arching his tiny body as best he can away from the stroller's restraining buckle.

"Hey now," You press a soft but firm hand against him, guiding him back to his seat. "I'll let you pick, but you have to be polite. Say please and thank you to the salesperson, kay?"

Your son huffs, squirming a bit more before collapsing against the seat. "I be good. I good." He grumbles, and you're finally able to unbuckle him and take him up in your arms.

"Okay now. Can you ask for what you want?" You give the salesperson a thankful smile as you speak to Basil. They seem willing to be patient with your little one.

"Jellies!!!" He cries gleefully.

"Jellies, what, bud?"

"Jellies, pease!!!"

"There you go... We're gonna get some oran berry jelly." You tell the salesperson, already reaching into your bag with the hand that isn't carrying Basil. "Remember, these are glass, so you gotta hold it gently."

Basil carefully (or as carefully as a nearly-two year old can) chooses a bright blue jar, holding it in both of his hands.

Gently, so as not to jostle Basil enough that he drops his prize, you rearrange him on your hip, freeing an arm to reach into your bag, so you can pay the shop keeper. 

That's when you hear it. Not particularly loud compared to the hum of the crowd, but clear as day anyway.

The sound of your name being called gives you pause. You look around. It's not uncommon for you to be recognized, but you're already on edge. Hopefully it's just a fan or something?

–

You heard him. From the way you stopped and looked around, hiking the kid up just a bit higher on your hip as you distractedly tried to find the source of his voice, it was obvious.

It isn't an overly crowded market, but there are definitely enough people milling around that quick travel isn't really feasible from where he stands, particularly if he wants to get closer.

He calls your name again, louder this time. Before it had almost been breathless, filled with surprise, hurt, delight, just a tumultuous storm of emotions tearing through his stomach at the sight of you, the sight of his little carbon copy in your arms. Now he's really trying to get your attention.

You pinpoint him, and Arven waves, his bulky form helping to differentiate him from the rest of the crowd.

He... He can't read your face. You look like a deerling caught in Flash. He watches as you quickly shuffle, taking your boy (his boy?) away. Are... Are you for real fleeing from him? He calls your name again, trying to move closer to your retreating form, but it's no use. He makes it to the stall where you were before. He's positive of it because you left the stroller behind, and judging by the yelling from the salesperson, you made off with some product without paying. It's a no-brainer for him to lay down the cash needed, assuaging the anger of the clerk. Arven also grabs the stroller, giving a nervous laugh about how forgetful you must be before he starts trekking with it in the direction that you fled.

Except. He quickly realizes that's not really gonna get him anywhere. He has no idea where you live. Yeah, he knows where you used to live, almost 3 years ago, but that was basically a shoebox, a place to store your supplies while out and about as a champ. No way you're there still. Not with a kid. Right?

He eventually takes a seat on a bench close to the market, keeping the stroller next to him. You've gotta come back for it soon, right? Even then though, he has no idea how long it might take you to come back. 

Once again, Arven desperately wishes you hadn't blocked him way back when. He pulls out his phone, hoping to shoot you a text, on the off-chance that maybe you unblocked him at some point maybe?

Me: Hi, Buddy!

is all he types before seeing the tell-tale red messaging, showing that the number is indeed still blocked. Ugh.

Fuck, maybe...maybe he could use a pay phone or something? Just to tell you where your stroller is. But are there even any pay phones anymore?

As it turns out, they do still exist! There's one just on the edge of the market, so Arven makes his way over, pulling out his phone to copy your number once he's in the booth.

Except.

That's not a Paldean area code he sees. It's Kalosian. Yes, it's your name as the contact, and it's your final, nasty message to him there in the texts, but....it's not your number. There's not even a call history that goes back that far for him to try and grab the number that he just can't seem to remember entirely. He used to have it memorized, once upon a time, the two of you having been the other's emergency contact for so long, so he knows he's not crazy. That number...

He realizes on a second glance that the number is affiliated with Bon Applintit. It's got the same starting numbers after the area code.

What the hell happened to--

"Arven!!!!" The cry of his name startles him out of the thought, but he tucks it away for later. There's something very, very off going on, beyond the kid and everything. Which also??? Kinda absolutely bonkers. He's not gonna lie to himself. He also can't think too hard about it.

"Arven!" Nemona pulls him from that dizzying train of thought, as well as the phone booth. "I've been sent to just, uh...grab this from you..." She tells him, awkwardly trying to work her way around him to grab at the stroller's handlebars. "Ya know... Mama and Basil need it and all." She laughs a bit uncomfortably, continuing her attempt to pry the pram from him.

"Basil?" He says out loud, the name punching him harder than any Hitmonchan. His fists clench tighter around the bars.

Nemona slaps a hand over her mouth, allowing Arven to angle the stroller away from her. "Were you not supposed to know? Ah, gosh darn it!"

"I mean--!" He starts defensively. "I guess?! I never knew about...about any of this!" He gesticulates wildly. "When was anyone gonna tell me about Basil, huh? What the hell, Nemona!?"

She gives him a strange look, her lips pursed and brows quirked. "You... You really had no idea?" She crosses her arms, studying Arven's expression. "Hold on."

Nemona takes out her phone and starts texting. Arven does his absolute best to be patient, but with every passing second he's growing more agitated. 

"Okay, listen! Someone has GOT to tell me what's going on!" He eventually bursts. "Who IS this kid? Why does she have him? Why does... I mean, why does the kid look like me? Everyone's been treating me like shit since I got here, and none of it makes any goddamn sense! If anyone cares to hear MY side of the story, she blocked ME! And to my knowledge it was just over a few missed calls! I thought she was just overreacting! I had no idea about any of this!" His anger over it all, over getting shunned by his friends years ago, over Clavell’s insults, comparing him to his father, it all bubbles over, and he’s letting it out on Nemona. 

She hushes him with a sound and a not-so-placating finger, not bothering to even look up as she texts with a single thumb. "Hold on, hold on, hold on..." The patronizing nature of it all pulls a huff from Arven, whose grip on the handles of the strollers is so strong his knuckles go white.

His friend locks the screen and looks back to him. Her gaze is steady and serious, in stark contrast to her typical jovial self.

"Okay. I believe you, amigo. You say you've got no idea what's going on? I'm sorry to hear that. I really, really wish I could just tell you everything. Or at least, what I think is everything? But this isn't really my place. Not my mankey, not my circus. I'm just the mankey's fun tia, y'know?" She tries to lighten the mood a bit, but it absolutely falls short. "But. For real, this isn't the kind of chisme I enjoy. Not when it involves any of you. I'm talking to her now." Nemona shakes the phone in her hand. "I'm gonna see if she's willing to hear you out."

"Hear me out? She was the one--"

"That isn't how anyone here knows the story, Arven. At least what she's been able to bring herself to tell of it. I don't think any of us can claim to know all the details, but do you think she'd lie to make you look bad? Really?"

That seems to give Arven pause. At least long enough for Nemona to check the latest message from you. She smiles.

"She's on her way to the Treasure Eatery and will meet with you there. Be sure to bring the stroller."

--

Arven makes it to the restaurant before you. It isn't really surprising, given your detour to the league building to drop Basil off with Nemona for a bit. He ought to thank his lucky stars for Nemona pleading his case to you, saying he seemed to be genuinely confused and distraught over the situation. Otherwise you wouldn't have bothered. This is...exhausting to think about. Facing him. Trying to figure out what he wants. Why he came.

You won't lie, your initial thoughts as you rushed home with Basil tucked tightly in your arms, shielding him from his father, were rather dark. Was Arven here to try and take him? Did he think he could use your baby as some kind of prop in his social media videos? People go crazy for dads after all.

But, no. If you're honest with yourself (like Nemona urged you to be) that's not the man you knew. You couldn't imagine him becoming someone like that either, especially if he didn't want to be a dad in the first place... Beyond that, if you think rationally for a moment, there isn't a court in the world that would order your toddler son to another country without you.

No, this...this will be safe. It will be scary. To see him again. But. There's no need to think there's danger. It will just be kind of scary. And you can deal with scary, if only for a few minutes. 

"Hey." Your voice sounds drained as you drop your bag on your side of the booth and follow behind it to sit. You want to look at him. Look him in the eye and ask him what his deal is, but you just can't summon that brand of bravery.

"Hey." His tone isn't really discernable; you can't guess what he's thinking. "I, uh...ordered your usual drink. Or...What you used to order? If that's cool?"

Sure enough, there on the tabletop is your go-to drink from the Treasure Eatery, a ring of condensation already formed at the base of the glass, dampening the flimsy cardboard of the disposable coaster.

"Oh." It surprises you, that small bit of thoughtfulness. "Thanks." You take the glass in both hands and sip, letting the frosty cold of it ground you before you finally look up to see him.

He's... He's so much like Basil, it makes a lump form in the back of your throat. The nose, the eyebrows, the bow of his lips. You've seen them all every day for almost two years now in the face of your little boy; things you noticed and adored, now mimicked before you. Beyond that, he's still Arven. Time hasn't changed him too terribly much. For an adult, it hasn't been too long, so it's not like he's suddenly grey and withered before you or something. The biggest difference is how he pulls his hair back into a low ponytail, the patchy stubble around his cheeks and chin. He's either growing it out to try something new or just hasn't bothered with a razor for a while.

"Hey." You finally say. Truth be told, if not for your drink, your throat would've gone dry just seeing him again.

"So..." He starts, leading.

"So...you're back."

"Uh. Yeah. The plan was to spend the weekend clearing out my old storage....and...head back to Lumiose..."

"'The plan was?'" You ask.

"W-Well, I mean... I. I don't think I can just go back now, can I?"

You tense. Why did that feel like an attack? "I don't see why not. You didn't seem to think it was important to, you know, come back before now. What makes you think you have to stay?" Your tone comes off colder, more callous, than your aching heart would otherwise reveal, and it does its job, egging Arven onto frustration.

"I saw Clavell with Basil." He starts, pausing when he notices your flinch at the name. "Then I saw him with you. And... I mean..."

"Oh, so you saw him and now suddenly you care?" You ask, venom dripping more than you'd care to admit.

"What are you saying?!" He grates, volume only as loud as public decorum would allow in the bustling restaurant. "You... You have to be kidding, right? Of course I care! There's... There's a whole kid! Right? Where did he come from, huh? Cuz, like... Those don't just appear! And he's yours, right? He's gotta be! Like, obviously I see my...resemblance, but I see you in him, too!" That surprises you. No one ever found your features in Basil anymore, save for your mom, who made an off-handed comment once or twice about your eye shape or something.

Arven takes your silence as reason to continue "I mean... I've seen my photos from a young age... I..." His anger fizzles out into confusion as he goes on. "I don't want to make assumptions about...about us or what we were? But...looking at that kid, it's gotta be, right? That it was me? That I'm..." He can't say it out loud. "But why? Why didn't you say something? Why did you hide something like that? Cuz, like... I mean...even...even if he were someone else's... I mean, why wouldn't you have said something?"

"Hide it?!" The accusation shocks you into a response. "I never hid anything! I tried telling you for ages, back when you actually picked up the damn phone! You forced me into having to text you about my son! Then you blocked me! I have the receipts, Arven. I don't know what kind of delusion you've got going on in that head of yours, but I never hid my boy from you until I was given reason to! Why would I go out of my way to force a child upon a man who couldn't acknowledge him? Why wouldn't I keep my son safe from someone who didn't have the decency to be there for him? For me?"

Your tone has risen to a point where a few of the surrounding tables have hushed to listen in, and Arven can tell that prying eyes and ears are now on you both. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, an attempt to steady himself, keep from getting more heated in public. 

"Bud." He begins, the old nickname hitting you like a sucker punch. "I never knew. I don't know what happened there, but I promise. I promise on Mabosstiff's life that I had no clue about any of this. I think there had to have been some kinda mix up..." You watch as cogs turn in his head. "I think... I'm thinking maybe something happened with my phone." He says, pulling the device from his pocket. "Like... Lemme just try and make this clear from my end. Okay? I got this text from you..." He starts, tapping the screen. "It was kinda mean, and when I tried to respond, I was blocked." He holds up the conversation for you to read.

>Hey! Sorry we keep missing each other lately! I hope things are okay? Are you staying warm? It's getting kinda cold here.

>can we not do this?

>Not do what?

>"This" i'm getting real fuckin tired of you bailing on me all the time now that your some hot shot kalosian celebrity guy

>Whoa. Where is this even coming from??

>you kno exactly where its coming from, arven. Youve been super shitty to me since you left paldea and it really hurts my feelings.

>I'm sorry? I've been busy here. It's been a lot getting used to a whole new place and a whole new language. I thought you understood that. I really am sorry though.

>y'know what? I dont really care at this point. Ive had enough waiting around for you to call me or text me back. there are guys here who can do better by me

>[One Missed Call]

>[One Missed Call]

>[One Missed Call]

>Are you being serious right now? You can't be. This is a joke?

>[One Missed Call]

>[The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected and is no longer in service.]

Your face pales and stomach sinks as you read it. "Arven, I--"

"I just noticed earlier when I tried calling you about the stroller. That isn't even your number. It's Kalosian. It's... I think it's affiliated with my company? I can't be sure yet, but..." He locks the screen and puts his phone down. "I know now that you never sent those messages, and that somehow I lost everything related to your contact. So...whatever you might've sent...it isn't here. I couldn't have seen it."

With a nearly shaking hand, you grab his phone and open it back up, still remembering his old passcode (Mabosstiff's Pokedex number). "Hold on..." You absolutely sent a message. Whether it was deleted or not... You check his blocked numbers, knowing that on your end, you've been blocked since back when you first told him about the pregnancy. "Yup..." You show him the screen. There among several spam numbers was your own. "You blocked me."

Arven opens his mouth to argue. "Or, I guess," You continue before he has a chance to interrupt. "I was blocked... somehow? I still... I don't see how this could have happened..." You set the phone down and fish out your own from your bag. "Here." It only takes a moment to pull up your old conversations. "You can read for yourself what I tried to tell you."

>Hey! I know this isn't ideal, and I really would have rather said it in person or over a face call or even just a regular call, but I think you need to know, and I'm having a really hard time verbalizing it to you. I'm sorry to do it this way, but it's better to say it now than not at all, right?

>I'm pregnant, and it's yours.

>I'm so, so, SO sorry! I promise I didn't mean for it to happen like this, and I'm not trying to like…baby trap you or something. I swear! You're my best friend in the whole world, and I'm so happy that you can go and live your dream in Kalos right now. But I just feel like you should know? Like you should have a say in what happens here? I'd love to talk to you. Do...do you want to do this? Because....well if you're willing I'd want to try this. With you. But I also know that you're living your dream right now, and I don't want to get in the way of that! I want you to be able to really embrace this new journey you're taking and learn and grow and do wonderful things! But I just wanted you to know, you know? Please don't hate me. Just give me a call when you have a minute, and we can figure this out. Okay?

. Then after several months, you’d sent a picture. Just a simple selfie of you, looking exhausted beyond belief, hair tamped down to your head with sweat, but still smiling. In your arms is a tiny bundle with a little purple hat, face looking squished and wrinkly and perfect. Arven knows exactly what he’s looking at before he’s read your final message.

>He's here. I don't know if you care, necessarily? But... I love him so much, and I don't understand how you couldn't, so I thought I should share.

You watch as Arven tears up, holding your phone like a tiny, precious creature. "I never knew. I... I swear I didn't." He swallows. "My...my team... They all have access to my phone. Something must've... Someone, I guess..." He shudders then looks to you, resolute. "I'll figure it out. But." Arven looks at your hand on the table then flexes his own, curling and uncurling it from a fist. "I... I wanted to know. I should've known. I'm so sorry this happened..."

"Me too..." The anger and fear and sadness you had churning in your gut this whole time slowly begins to still. You don't know how to feel exactly about the misunderstanding, but you know Arven. You know he isn't lying to you, and to hear him apologize for all of this... It's like a weight off of your soul.

Arven pauses, gathering himself then stares you in the eye. "I was supposed to leave tomorrow, head back. Fuck that. I need to be here. I need to see him.”

It's another punch to the gut, and on instinct, you respond. "No."

[sunnfish]

💫 starstruck 💫

[Image Description: a digital illustration of Hirano Taiga from the series Hirano to Kagiura/Sasaki to Miyano. It’s a narrow landscape composition focusing on his eyes, which are wide with awe and wonder, as a wind blows his hair back. Bright starburst shapes also move along the direction of the wind, gathering in his eyes and hair and along behind him. The background fades from white in front of him to a dark blue-purple behind him. The overall colors are very saturated and also quickly fade from bright warm pinks highlighting the front of his face to darker turquoise blues in the shadows of his face and hair. There are two variations, one facing left and one facing right. The artist’s signature “sunnfish” and the date “sep 18, 2022” are written faintly along the bottom. /End Description]

[quartzalynlove]

Coming Home Injured

Pairing: Liu Kang, Kenshi, Johnny Cage, Raiden, Sub Zero, Scorpion, Smoke, Reptile x fem!reader (separately)

Summary: returning from a mission with a few bad injuries

Warnings: Canon typical violence, some descriptions of bad wounds

A/N: let's see if I can make personalized pet names for each of them without them being cringe. Feedback encouraged. Also if we're gonna keep writing for all 8 of these guys at once it's gonna take a minute for me to post so sorry abt that but more mk1 content is coming

Liu Kang

The two of you sat in silence from the moment you returned home. You had completed the mission, but only by an inch of your life. The image of Liu Kang's concerned face, before you fainted in his arms, was still clear in your head.

Liu Kang assessed your injuries before treating them, trying not to be alarmed by the long, deep gash cut from your side into your abdomen. All the while, that look on his face never faded. You had seen Liu Kang when he was concerned many times, but this was different. That crease between his brows was deeper for some reason. As his hands shook, uncharacteristically, while he cleaned your wound, you finally identified the expression. It was the same one you saw when Kenshi lost his sight on the mission to capture Shang Tsung.

"Darling," your voice was weak as you looked down at him.

Immediately, Liu Kang's eyes shot up at you. With his worry growing, he placed a hand on your thigh.

"My light, please do not exert yourself."

Slowly, your hand took hold of his. Your grip was so weak that Liu Kang could hardly bear it. Instead, he took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. You felt a shuddering breath against your skin as he pulled away.

"Don't you think you're a bit too concerned?" You asked.

With deep regret, Liu Kang bowed his head, not able to look at what he'd done to you.

"You shouldn't have returned this injured," his low voice started to break. "I shouldn't have—"

You stopped him before he could say another thing, "Lift your head," you told him.

Liu Kang looked up at you, slowly, his breaths still heavy and unsteady.

"You used your judgment as well as you could, and I fulfilled your orders. I came back to you."

Starting to calm, Liu Kang nodded in understanding.

"Not every round of Kombat is easy, but I'll be okay."

Upon seeing your reassuring smile, Liu Kang's breathing finally steadied, and his grip on your hand started to soften.

Kenshi

You winced in pain as Kenshi finished a stitch on a rather brutal injury. If he hadn't gotten to you sooner, the blood loss would have killed you. What you did lose on your staggering trek back home already made you lightheaded. Kenshi insisted on you resting; he made you something to eat and made sure you were drinking water. As you laid on the couch, resting yourself after a tough mission, Kenshi was rubbing your feet. You noticed his clenched jaw and the tight line his lips formed. Part of you wished you could sit up and hold his face, but you didn't want to risk popping a stitch while it was still fresh.

"What's on your mind, Kenshi?"

He turned toward your voice before trying to dismiss you with a shake of his head. "Nothing, my flower. Please try to rest."

"Don't say 'nothing' when it's clearly something, love."

You didn't say anything else, still too out of it to try and coax anything else from him. Thankfully, he wasn't going to make you do the work.

"I should've been there," He said quietly. "If I were there to protect you, you this wouldn't have happened."

Kenshi was such a gentleman, your very own knight in shining armor, but he often piled too much on his plate without noticing. He did know he didn't have to save you every time, didn't he?

A lazy smile graced your face, "Honey, I'm fine." You told him.

"You aren't fine—"

You interrupted, "I'll be fine," you said slowly. "You've patched my wounds, forced food and water down my throat, and you're even keeping me company here and rubbing my feet. You've saved me already, my hero."

Kenshi sighed as your words put him at ease, silently accepting that you were right.

"Besides," you continued. "I'm a big girl; I can handle myself. You should ask Sento to show you the other guy."

As Kenshi started to chuckle, you wore a proud smile before feeling yourself fall asleep on the couch.

Johnny Cage

Johnny was all over the place. While you held onto your side on the couch, he searched the area frantically for God knows what. All you could hear was his half-rambled sentences around.

"Johnny." You tried to get his attention.

He stopped for just a second just to point a finger at you. "Hey, don't move over there. I just gotta..."

As he left again, you let your head fall back, sighing in pain.

"I'm calling Liu Kang." You said.

Something in the kitchen clattered as Johnny shouted. "No, don't call him; I've got this!"

"I've been bleeding on our couch for five minutes!"

Sighing, Johnny came back again and looked at you. In any other circumstance, it would be cute how frantic he was over you. Unfortunately, however, your life was at stake and he was running around the house like the Roadrunner. Finally, Johnny finished assessing your injuries.

"Water," he snapped his fingers. "I'll get you some water."

"Johnny!" You stopped him before he could take off again.

In Johnny's defense, he was very worried. It was written all over his face. As you sighed, you spoke to him very carefully.

"I keep a first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet."

With many understanding nods, Johnny seemed to calm down before heading to the bathroom.

"First aid kit," he said to himself. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Raiden

You didn't know how you were still alive, and if it weren't for Raiden, you'd surely be dead. Once you got through the portal, you tried to make it home to him, but Raiden ended up finding you collapsed on the academy grounds as blood quickly made a pool around your stomach. When you came to, the only sensation you could make out was Raiden's feet striking the ground as he ran with you in his arms. You must have managed to say something because you saw his eyes meet yours before darkness obstructed your vision again

The next time you woke you were somewhere indoors. A bright yellow light blinded you before your eyes could adjust. You felt Raiden squeeze your hand as your head turned.

"You're awake." He gasped.

All you could muster was a faint smile. That searing pain from the gash that opened your stomach still wasn't gone.

"Not for long." You said weakly.

Raiden's face became worried as he inched closer to you from his chair at your side.

"I must keep you awake," he said almost as a plea to you. "I've taken you to the medics, and they said if you wake I couldn't let you close your eyes again."

You whined with a frown. "It hurts, Raiden."

Raiden brought his free hand on top of yours, trying to comfort you with small rubs.

"I know, but I am here. I've got you."

As you looked at Raiden, the pain seemed to lessen. Everything felt warmer as long as you focused on him.

"I bet Shao thought he killed me." You said.

A bright smile appeared on Raiden's face at your decision to stay with him. "He is in for a surprise the next time you meet."

Sub Zero

You were a victim of Bi-Han's cold frustration. Honestly, it agitated you more than the searing pain caused by the cleaning of the open wound across your side.

From the moment you came back to him, limping through the front door with the last of your strength, he didn't utter a sound. You remained in awkward silence as he had you sit on the kitchen counter with your back straight while he patched you up.

As he stitched you up, Bi-Han was moving at a harsh pace. It wouldn't harm your wound, but it was almost more painful than the wound itself. Bi-Han was aware of the sharp breaths you sucked in and pained gasps, but they were no deterrent to quickness.

"Bi-Han," you finally snapped at him.

With a cocked eyebrow, Bi-Han stepped back, eyeing you with such an icy glare and that scowl you thought wasn't welcome in your home.

Your eyes searched his face, hoping to find your lover buried beneath that avalanche, "You're hurting me." You said.

A scoff came from Bi-Han as he attempted to work on you once again. "This can't hurt nearly as bad as your other injuries."

You wouldn't let him come back to you, however, pushing him back with the palm of your hand. "Well, it isn't exactly helping."

Bi-Han folded his arms over his chest. "Do you expect me to coddle you?"

"Some sympathy wouldn't hurt." You spat back.

In disbelief, Bi-Han came back to you, forcing himself into your view. "You want my sympathy for the consequences of your reckless actions? My assistance is enough comfort."

He readied the needle for the next stitch, but before he could jam another hole into you, you took the needle out of his hand.

You didn't look at him as you spoke. "I would rather help myself."

After staring at you for a moment, Bi-Han walked away with a grunt. However, even as he started to leave, your wincing continued. You tried to finish the stitching yourself, but the wound was in such a place that you couldn't reach it without straining the rest of your body. Not to mention aggravating the wound itself.

Bi-Han couldn't bear to watch and listen to you struggle. You were only hurting yourself more. Casting his face down for a moment, Bi-Han exhaled before returning to your side.

Before you could begin another stitch, you felt a cold hand stop the needle.

"The stitching will be ineffective this way."

That growl had left Bi-Han's voice, and his face softened, save the deep crease between his brows. Although his gaze would not meet yours, you gave the needle back to Bi-Han, feeling in the air that his anger had dissipated. As he went to work once again, he was much more gentle, and his work didn't hurt nearly as much. Still, he was very quiet. It was clear he wasn't angry with you anymore, but something still troubled him.

Once the stitch was finished, Bi-Han went to tend to your smaller injuries, remaining so quiet and drawn away from you. As he went to clean a cut on your cheek his eyes remained fixated on the wound, not once glancing towards you. Becoming concerned for him, you stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"Bi-Han," you began turning to face him, but his face turned away. "Will you look at me, sweetheart?"

He couldn't; he was ashamed to do so. Although he should have had better control over himself, Bi-Han lost his temper with you.

"I was worried," he said, his face finally falling. "Seeing you come home in this state concerned me. I'm sorry I let it contort into anger."

With a small smile, you took the side of Bi-Han's face in your hand, fixing it towards you. It melted him a bit to see your face. Even after how he had acted, you still smiled at him.

"I knew of your anger long before we got together," you said. "And while it can be frustrating, that doesn't mean I'm not willing to work through it as long as you are."

Bi-Han leaned into your touch, sighing as he let his eyes close. "Just promise you'll act more carefully on future missions."

Scorpion

Kuai Liang tended to the large gash across the length of the back. The wound was deep and wide, he could hardly fathom how this had happened to you. However, his focus remained on bandaging you before it suffered any infection. Kuai Liang worked gently as he secured the bandages around you, but you dreaded turning back to him. Once you did, you turned away quickly from his gentle face, eager to get away from where his eyes gazed. Confused by this, he stopped you, taking a soft but firm hold of your arm.

"You should let me help with getting you ready for bed. I don't want you exhausting yourself, precious."

You huffed, but couldn't lose your temper with Kuai Liang's warm eyes gazing at you. Still, you snatched your arm back, turning your back to him again.

"I can manage, Kuai Liang." Your tone wasn't exactly angry but somber instead, bringing a confused expression to Kuai Liang's face.

He started to catch up to you again, "Your injuries are very serious, Y/N." He said as a word of caution.

As your jaw clenched, you quickly turned back to Kuai Liang, your tone more serious now. "And I said I can manage."

Suddenly, a sharp pain radiated through your shoulder, causing you to wince and grab at it. You turned too fast. Kuai Liang placed a hand on your shoulder, generating the softest heat to ease the pain.

"Beloved, what is wrong," He said with concern as he turned back in front of you. "It can't just be your injuries making you this upset."

With a soft sigh, you started to break your frustration, letting the sadness you truly felt manifest in your face, "Aren't you disappointed?" You looked up at him.

Kuai Liang's brows furrowed in confusion. Your expression was so sad and apologetic. How could you think he was disappointed?

"In you," he asked in disbelief. "Of course not, precious. Why would I be?"

Gesturing to yourself, you let out a shuddering breath, "Look at me," your voice began to break. "This is no state for a champion to be in after Kombat,"

Kuai Liang felt his heart break; he knew you always held yourself to a status that kept you worthy of the mantle that was Earthrealm's champion, but he hated to see you acting this harshly towards yourself.

As tears started forming in your eyes, you continued. "You and your brothers fight to bring honor to your clan's name; you persist no matter the challenge. How can I be a champion when I haven't done the same for Earthrealm?"

You faced the floor as tears streamed down your cheek, but Kuai Liang wouldn't let you shut yourself out from him again. Lifting your head with his index finger, Kuai Liang started wiping your tears as his hands cradled your face.

"Beloved," his voice was soft as he spoke to you. "You accepted your challenge and fought with all you had. Honor isn't about winning but fighting valiantly in the name of your clan. By engaging in Kombat for the glory of Earthrealm and its champions, you have brought honor. For that, I am proud of you as I always am."

As your tears slowed, Kuai Liang gazed into your eyes with a nod of understanding. Once you nodded back, he planted a kiss on top of your head.

Smoke

Tomas hadn't left your side since you returned home last night, and though he tried his best to conceal it, you could feel how worried he was. All of your wounds were patched up, and you were starting to feel better, but he still insisted on doing every little thing for you. It was sweet; you knew how much he cared for his loved ones, especially you, but he did know you'd be okay, right?

By the time you had woken up, Tomas was in the shower, and you were starving. It wasn't going to strain you to cook breakfast, so that's what you went to do.

You had just begun cooking when Tomas came out of the shower. When he returned to your bedroom and found the bed to be empty, he froze in fear. Frantically, he hurried around the house, looking for you. It didn't take him long to reach the kitchen where you were cooking at the stove.

"What are you doing out of bed, my love?"

You turned to see Tomas' concerned face. Smiling, in hopes you would put him at ease, you gestured to the pan of bacon on the stove.

"Cooking," you answered him. "I'm hungry; I bet you are too."

With a small frown, Tomas sighed softly as he leaned against the island, "I could've handled this." He said.

As you turned back to the stove, you nodded. "Yes, but you were in the shower. Besides, I felt like cooking."

You could hear Tomas grumbling behind you as he came closer. Suddenly, he put his hand on top of yours, trying to take the pan from you.

"I'd much prefer it if you stayed in bed, my love."

Tightening your grip, you looked back at him. "I've been in bed since yesterday evening, let me cook us breakfast."

By this point, Tomas didn't know what to do other than pout disapprovingly, but you weren't going to have it.

"Tomas," you called him. "Look at me."

With a sigh, he listened, backing up to eye you before you explained your instruction.

"I'm doing better. It's not like I'm going to fall over at the stove."

He tried to interrupt, "You don't—" But you silenced him with a hand on the center of his chest.

You continued softly. "Go sit down and wait for your food."

The two of you shared a brief look before you closed your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you. Once he did, you opened your eyes to Tomas walking to sit at the table.

Reptile

You hissed as Syzoth finished a stitch on your shoulder.

"I know it hurts, but we're almost done." He tried to calm you.

Usually, you tried to fight him when he patched you up, but you came home in pretty rough shape. The only complaining you could manage was in the form of winces and grunts. Syzoth never really minded, though. If anything you reminded him of his younger siblings when they'd hurt themselves playing.

"There," He said, putting the needle down. "You'll be fine in a few days."

As Syzoth looked at you with a soft face, you couldn't help feeling a small sense of shame.

"I'm sorry." You apologized, playing with your hands in your lap.

Syzoth tilted his head at you. "For what?"

"I can be so stubborn when you're only trying to help."

An incredulous slithering laugh started to leave Syzoth at your words, confusing you a bit. Putting your hands in his, Syzoth looked into your eyes.

"Firefly, I have faced much worse than you upset about getting a few stitches. As long as you're okay, you can bicker and grunt at me all you like."

Syzoth kissed you on the forehead before leading you to the bed.

"I never did ask how your opponent ended up." He looked over at you.

With a proud smile, you answered him. "Let's just say if I was injured the same, would have done more than bicker at you."

[deandoesthingstome]

Forest Fantasy

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: There's a new hotel in town. It can't possibly be what it's advertised as, can it?

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, cunnilingus, p in v (missionary and doggy style), monster fucking (right?).

A/N: I was considering waiting until Oct, but it's a fucking Super Moon tonight so let's gooooo.....!!!!!

When The Fantasy Hotel opened up in town, you scoffed at first. "What’s with this name? What kind of depravity is this? Why can't folks just fuck in their own homes?" you thought to yourself. “At least they have someone to fuck. Why must they flaunt their relationships in my face this way?”

But then you heard the whispers. The suggestions. The innuendos. A few of your online friends, who know you'd been through a dry spell for some time now, had been asking if you'd given any thought to trying it out and you were...confused. They wouldn't say outright what they'd heard about the place, but curiosity got the better of you. 

You opened the incognito browser and typed the hotel name and were...shocked. Shocked at the images and the rave reviews. This hotel wasn't strictly for couples. As a matter of fact, it was designed for singles. And you shut your laptop quickly, convinced this wasn't for you and worried what your anonymous, online friends must think of you. You broached the subject delicately, so as not to offend in case maybe they didn't really know what they were asking about.

MNstrluvr: Come on. You've read the fics. You've liked and commented. Are you really saying you weren't into it? The idea of it?

sendmeanangel: I was sucked in by the phenomenal writing. You know me. I read anything if it's told well, descriptive, immersive, get you out of your head.

darkgothnightengale: This is THAT. But IRL. You're fucking lucky they picked your town to open the first one. You HAVE to try it and tell us how it is!!!

sendmeanangel: Have you seen the prices?

darkgothnightengale: We chipped in.

sendmeanangel:...

MNstrluvr: Come on! We're dying to know first hand from someone we actually know. Please. For science!

It took a few more gentle prods and pokes, with promises of no jokes unless you gave specific permission. And under NO CIRCUMSTANCES were your friends allowed to post anything that even vaguely alluded to the fact that you were trying the place out. Private DMs and Super Private Chat Room discussions only.

Your visit was booked. You opted for a brief stay only. Two hours. You couldn't bring yourself to book a longer stay and the theme you selected was one that allowed for less than full evenings. It was also the only slot available on the day you were able to ask off work. 

You showered and primped, pampering yourself with your favorite body wash and lotion, knowing how good it made you feel to be fresh and clean and smelling delicious. You checked your clothes and your makeup in the full length mirror by your apartment door, opting not to change for the fiftieth time since stepping out of the shower. A few final items stuffed into your travel satchel and the large floppy hat on your head you'd bought specifically to hide your face as you made your way into the hotel and you were off for your adventure, trepidation buzzing around your insides and threatening to derail your purpose.

Your friends had paid and you figured you were already past a normal hotel refund window, so paying them back would mean picking up a few extra shifts on top of your already hectic university schedule. Besides, you didn't want to disappoint them. They were so curious to know if the stories that were starting to pop-up on Tumblr did any justice to the experience. You really couldn’t imagine this was anything more than some extremely well put together costumes and perhaps use of silicon implements, which had you really wondering about sanitation, but whatever.

The cab pulled up at the hotel entrance and a petite woman with a pixie cut stepped forward to open the door and help you out. She gave a warm smile with no hint of derision or teasing about the hat as she welcomed you sincerely and led you through the front doors, depositing you at the registration desk.

"Enjoy your stay!" she beamed at you, with a conspiratorial wink before heading back out to, you assumed, await the next guest.

You called out a thanks after her, then turned to the front desk attendant, who welcomed you by name.

"You have the only check in slot at this time," he answered your unspoken question with a kind smile. "We stagger arrival on purpose to ensure privacy for our guests. Especially first time visits. We have you booked in the Deep Forest Suite for the next two hours, and it looks like you requested the basket add on. That will be waiting for you in the room. Since it is your first time, we just need you to sign a few waivers and I'll run through the hotel safety rules for you. A copy has also been sent to your email, if you want to check them during your stay. But also, rest assured, your host is well versed and knows exactly how to keep you safe. You are in good hands here, I promise."

Every word spoken carefully and with respect, every inflection designed to put your worries at ease. If you had butterflies going in, you'd never know it now. You had taken notice of the lush and inviting lobby, dark wood furniture covered in rich velvet, chandeliers and wall sconces casting a warm glow around you. There was nothing menacing or untoward, nothing like you had expected, even after seeing the interior photos online. You'd experienced marketing ploys before. This wasn't glue disguised as milk or fries on toothpicks to stand up straight in the box or a long angle shot of the tiniest pool ever. Everything so far was exactly as depicted and you were impressed.

Then you remembered the photo of your host and had to swallow hard. You had assumed it was a doctored image, maybe some unique lighting to draw attention. But if the decor was real, then maybe he was too. The rules were oddly specific for an experience with a guy in a costume.

Maybe everything you had assumed about the nature of this hotel was wrong. 

"Everything okay?" the clerk asked with a furrowed brow. "Is there something worrisome about the rules?"

"Oh. No. No everything is fine. I'm just..." you trailed off. Nervous wasn't the right word. Nor were you embarrassed, as you thought you would be. The door attendant, the desk clerk...neither had made you feel anything but welcome and safe and not self-conscious at all.

"It's perfectly reasonable to feel a little apprehension your first time. If it makes you feel better, you should know: you actually can opt out at any time. We do have to retain a portion of the room fee, but a partial refund is available. Should you change your mind."

"That's nice to know, thank you. I think I'll be okay."

"Then let's get you to your room,” he clapped his hands together with a mirth. “427. Elevator is down the hall and there are directional signs, but I'm happy to escort you if you'd like."

"I think I'll manage, but thank you."

As he placed the key in your possession and sent you on your way, the reality sunk in a little deeper. Weighed down by the heavy iron key in your hand as you rode the elevator to the fourth floor and stepped down the hall to your room, you could no longer deny what was about to occur.

You were headed into the wolf's den.

The door unlocked with a satisfying click as you turned the iron key. You were transported to a lush forest setting when you stepped into the room. Or as close as you could get indoors, anyway. A carpet of deep, soft green lay on the floor beneath your feet, and you immediately slipped out of your shoes to feel the cool material on your skin. It was impossibly silky, smooth, and comforting.

Large potted fir and pine plants lined the walls and stood in corners. At least a few held miniature deciduous trees and some with limbs stretching across the ceiling. You finally let your eyes fall on the chunky, four-poster bed, the legs, head- and foot-boards crafted of smooth finished logs you might find in a high-end cabin or ski chalet and covered in a thick feather mattress wrapped in luxurious blankets and piled high with pillows.

A picnic basket sat prim and proper on the coffee table nestled between two plump, overstuffed chairs and you had just reached out to peek beneath the deep red cloth when the door closed softly behind you and a throat cleared.

"I hope I haven't startled you."

You turned and gasped as you took in the sight of one of the largest, and, for lack of a better description because your brain was starting to fail you, manliest men you'd ever set eyes on. His photograph might have been deceptive, but only because it didn't do him justice. He wore a thick, blue cable knit sweater and dark gray cargo pants that seemed to mold around his thighs. He was barefoot, which surprised you a little, but then who were you to judge at the moment?

You caught his smirk as you lifted your gaze to appreciate the rugged beard and full head of chocolate curls that framed his face, offsetting mesmerizing blue eyes.

"I'm Walter," he offered you his hand as he spoke your name with a gentle growl. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You're not..." you stopped yourself, suddenly embarrassed at how eager you'd found yourself. "Forgive me. That may have been a rude way to start."

"It's okay," he chuckled. "This isn't the form you signed up for, but I've found it more enjoyable to at least meet in this state. If I bounded in here all claws and snarls, we wouldn't have a chance to speak first. And I prefer to have at least a quick chat, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine," you whispered, your throat dry though your mouth was watering.

Walter stepped past you and reached a large mitt into the basket to pull out a bottle of water.

"Would you like to talk with me a bit?" he asked, offering you the bottle. Your eyes lingered on the basket, though, curious what else might be in there. The amenity said “Fantasy Basket”, so it could have just been a riff on the hotel name, but still, you had assumed…

“Did you not get a chance to peek before I arrived?” he asked as you took a sip of water.

“No. Do you know what’s in there?”

“I do,” another chuckle, deeper and darker than before. “Do you want to know now, or later?”

“We don’t have a lot of time, do we?” you asked, suddenly aware and mentally kicking yourself for thinking you didn’t need more than a few hours to get the lay of the land. Literally, you snorted at your internal joke.

“Something funny?”

“Lay of the land,” you replied with a grin and as he laughed with you, you caught sight of his canines. They seemed a little longer than when you saw them in his first grin. At the moan that slipped from your throat, he darkened again.

“That it will be.”

You gasped and squeezed your thighs, clenching at the reverberation in his voice. Something had changed from even just the moment before when he’d entered the room. Aside from the physical appearance, you sensed a shift in the air, something wavering in the ether around you. A heat crept from your core to your cheeks, through your spine and settled into your chest. You were breathless.

“How do we…um, how does this start?”

“We’ve already started, haven’t we?” he replied, a little mysteriously. “Sit with me?”

What made you drop to the floor beneath you instead of onto the comfortable looking seat, you couldn’t say, but here you were resting back on your heels as you took another drink of water from the glass bottle in your hand.

“I was going to suggest the chairs, but if you prefer the ground, I’m happy to say I do too.”

Walter stepped forward and lowered himself to the ground beside you, one knee splayed wide and almost touching yours, the other knee bent with an elbow draped over it as he leaned toward you. You could swear you caught him sniffing the air.

“I don’t know what to say,” you spoke with caution, suddenly overwhelmed. The day was just becoming a series of flip-flops in your mind as you imagined yourself, sometimes bold and determined to experience what you could, then timid and nervous as the reality overcame you. Once at ease and open, now shy and reserved.

“That’s okay,” Walter replied. “The better for me to begin.”

Why did that sound like such a familiar phrase? You took another drink and nodded for him to continue.

“I’d like to continue our time together by undressing you, one way or another. You have a choice, which you can leave to me if you’d like. I can do it now, in this form,” he paused, cocked his head to one side, then the other as he cracked his neck. “Or I can shift, in your presence or not, and do it that way.”

What did he mean by “shift”? Surely, he must mean change. As in undress and don a mask. But then you remembered his teeth, somehow longer. And you thought about the subtle way the atmosphere seemed to shimmer and transport you and you wondered if he really did mean “shift.’

“That sounds like two choices,” you whispered and caught his grin, canines even longer than before.

“Perceptive. I like it. Need a few moments?”

“What happens after I’m…I mean, I know what happens, I guess… but just, like, how…” you trailed off, not really sure what you were asking.

“We’re playing a game here, really. That’s all. It can be as simple or intricate as you’d like, though, you’re right. Our time is ticking away.”

“You do it.” You rushed, barely letting him finish his response. 

“Here or…?”

“I’ll close my eyes.” The thought of watching his shift, though intriguing, also made you wonder if it would make you more nervous than you already suddenly found yourself again. Maybe it was better to just jump in and get started, as much as you were also enjoying speaking with Walter in his human form. 

“Why don’t you take the basket into the bathroom? Pick out whatever intrigues you for use and come out when you’re ready. I’ll shift before you return. Sound okay?”

You nodded and he helped you to stand, then handed you the basket and gently urged you toward the bathroom door. Before he let go of your arm, he stepped in close, slipping his hand over yours and pressing it to his chest as he tugged you toward him. 

“Do you mind if I give you one kiss this way before we meet next? You can say no, but it’s nice, I think, a good way to gauge your interest.”

Did he somehow think you weren’t interested? How had you hidden the drool from him? You’d been too quiet, clearly. Mesmerized by everything that had happened already in such a short time and you’d lost your voice, unable to truly communicate your desire. You were ruining everything, obviously.

“I’d like to kiss you very much,” you admitted, peering up into his eyes, which you now noticed were not the 100% blue you’d originally thought. Was this man really about to change shape? Did it matter? It didn’t matter in the least as far as how well he could kiss you, because while you were contemplating the genetics of the man in front of you, he was leaning down to capture your lips in what started as a chaste, closed mouth peck that grew steadily more intense as you felt his free arm slip up your back to settle a hand against the nape of your neck while yours slipped around his waist and urged him closer, as if you were guided by some unknown force. You felt his tongue lick along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to him as if you’d known him your whole life.

With your hand still pressed against his sternum, you could feel his heart beat faster as each second passed and the kiss grew more heated. When he pulled away you actually whined.

“I’m glad to see you are interested,” he teased with a grin before he spun you toward the door again and pressed you inside. “Now hop on in and don’t take too long. I want to treat you for as long as I can.”

The bathroom was just as sumptuous as the main room. A dark tiled shower took up one entire wall of the room and you couldn’t tell if the color was black or just the deepest forest green you’d ever seen. Instead of a curtain or sliding door, a glass panel separated the shower from the rest of the room with an opening opposite the brass water valves to step in. What you imagined must be a rain shower head jutted out from the ceiling. You didn’t want to waste any more of your precious time, but wondered if there’d be any left to enjoy this shower when all was said and done. The rest of the bathroom fixtures and amenities would have to wait for inspection, since you needed to pay attention to your basket. You set it on the veined marble counter and finally lifted the cloth completely off. 

Only the cloth wasn’t exactly a cloth. It was a cape, tucked neatly on top of a few more bottles of water, a small loaf of bread, some cut cheeses and fruit in a covered bowl. And that was it for the tame picnic items.

You pulled a short, white peasant dress trimmed in lace and a red apron with black satin ribbon criss-crossing the front out of the basket, along with what appeared to be a pair of black fishnet stockings and thought of Walter’s comments. Were you expected to change or only if you wanted this part of the experience? Finally, you noticed a few heavy leather straps and as you pulled them from the basket you realized they must be meant as restraints, but for whom? You or him? You also noticed a distinct lack of silicon implements.

You heard a rustle of some sort outside the bathroom door, reminding you that Walter was waiting and time was fleeting and you really needed to make a decision about how you wanted to enter the room again. Walter had suggested you take the basket with you. And he was going to be … different when you saw him again, wasn’t he? And you had asked him to undress you. Maybe he anticipated that undressing would be … vigorous. What if this costume was meant for that? You had brought a change of clothes but didn’t think you’d be leaving here with one less outfit in your already sparse wardrobe.

Your mind made up, you stripped quickly and donned the outfit, amazed at how simple the apron was to slip over your head, then pull the satin ties tight with your own hand. You always imagined an intricate article of intimate clothing like this would take so much more effort. Maybe it would be something you’d feel comfortable and confident enough to do outside this hotel someday.

For now, you were drawn back into the moment with a thud on the door and a low growl that sounded like “Come out.”

You finished dressing, wrapping the cape around your neck and drawing up the hood. You still weren’t wearing shoes, so you could feel the ground through the wide gaps of the fishnets as you stepped back into the room, picnic basket on your arm. It felt different. More uneven. Crunchy leaves crackled beneath as you stepped onto what now felt like real grass, fading to dirt, fading to ground littered with pine needles and dry leaves. Ferns peaked out from the tree trunks. And a supermoon shone overhead.

This was not your room. It was on the other side of the bathroom door, to be fair, but this was not the room you’d stepped into 20 minutes ago. And yet, how could it be anything but? A twig snapped to your left and drew your attention as you realized you didn’t see Walter. You’d thought he’d be right outside the door, waiting for you, maybe in a chair, maybe on the bed. But you didn’t see him, only his clothes folded neatly on the table where your picnic basket had been. Suddenly, you felt a rush of air next to you.

“What are you doing here, little one?”

You had a hard time deciding what to focus on as the words were spoken. The actual choice of the words themselves, which harkened back to that story that drifted through the tendrils of your mind, whispering “You know me?” Or the rough, low way those words tumbled from him, hungry and full of want. Was this the game?

“Your voice sounds so strange, Walter. Is everything okay?” you asked, plucking the words from the cobwebs in your head.

“I think I just swallowed some water wrong.”

You took a deep breath and turned, ready to catch him, ready to see. He was glorious and you were awestruck. It took a few moments of taking in the sight of his body, arms slightly elongated, up on the balls of his feet, hair that looked like chocolate silk covering his body but not in a way that you couldn’t see the tone and definition of his skin underneath, nose and mouth pulled forward, ears up. Ears up.

“Walter, what big ears you have,” you cooed, reaching up to touch them, though waiting for the assent in his eyes. When you could see he would allow it, you brushed your fingers along the back side, then scratched a little in the crease where they met his head and he closed his eyes for a moment. His eyes.

“Walter, what big eyes you have,” your voice a bit lower, sultry, as if the confidence you’d lost earlier had found its way back to you. He opened them and you’d have sworn sparks flew as his deep blue eyes pierced yours before you saw him drag his gaze over your face, down your neck, back and forth between your breasts, unfortunately still covered. He must have felt the same because he didn’t linger on the clothes, but when he reached your thighs, clad in the black hose he snarled, baring his sharp teeth. Sharp teeth.

“Walter,” you teased. “What big teeth you have.”

“The better to eat you with, my dear,” he growled and pounced, swatting the picnic basket to the ground before lifting you by the waist and hoisting you over his shoulder. He only needed a few steps before he could toss you back onto the plump bed. Your cape hood dropped off your head and your dress skirt hiked up a little, but not like it mattered. 

Walter was between your legs, nudging your thighs wide with his own as he folded himself over you, arms caging your head. With a snarl, he began to nuzzle down your neck, sniffing along the way.

“You smell good,” he grunted as he drew a paw over your chest. “Smelled you from the moment I walked in the room, but I wanted to be closer. Like this.”

You peered down towards his hand and noticed the sharp claw of what should be an index finger drawn back and ready to slice through the black satin down your breast. The apron draped to your sides as easily as you’d put it on, practically one handed, and it was gone now. You didn’t really care if the white dress met the same fate as the apron, but the cape was quality. Surely there was no need to ruin it. You reached to untie the bow at your neck just as Walter sliced easily through the front of the dress. The rip as he reared back and grabbed a side of split fabric in both hands to finish the job was satisfying. 

Since you’d decided to just leave off the bra and panties for the sake of time, you were now left like an unwrapped package on the bed, intricately woven stretchy black thread the only thing sitting between you and Walter. Your chest was heaving and so was his. And since he was now up on his knees instead of bent over you, you had a chance to glance away from his face toward his hips and you had to bite your lip. 

He was huge. Like, possibly not gonna fit huge. He must have seen the hesitation on your face.

“Don’t worry,” came the sound as he dropped back off the bed, knelt on the floor, hooked his arms under your thighs, and tugged you to the edge of the bed. You felt his nuzzle against the skin of your belly, the warm, wet air of his exhale trailing down your side, into the crook of your thigh, and finally settling right on top of your cunt. He was so deft as he slipped a finger into your slit, then cut the thread between your legs as he pulled the finger free, widening the hole to give him greater access.

The noises you made could absolutely be interpreted as nothing other than consent, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t stop, as the contract said he could if he had any doubt about your permission. There could be no doubt.

“Please, don’t stop. Put your mouth on me. Make me cum.”

There was the slightest of huffs, as if he was smiling the briefest of victory smiles, before his assail began. It was measured, it was slow, it was a thorough gathering of information. It was infuriating. As you were about to open your impatient mouth and remind him that the clock was ticking the minutes away, like the insufferable bitch she was, he shifted tactics.

Every little nuance he’d taken note of, every amount of pressure and length of lick that produced some desired effect was now fortified. This was the only thing he did. And at a brisker rate, as if he’d calculated the pleasure you’d derived at the low speed and determined the exponential pleasure you’d get from the real speed. 

They had not put mathematical genius in his bio, but here you were getting eaten alive better than anyone had ever done it before. And you dared say, maybe after. This could get expensive.

When you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were afraid the remaining time had to be expired because you kept awakening from mind bending bliss to find him still lapping and sucking at your pussy as if he just got started and how long had it been, my gods, you grabbed hold of the curly hair around his head and tugged as you begged.

“Stop. Stop,” you were breathless. “Walter, please stop. It’s so good. It’s too good. I don’t want you to stop but we have to stop. My time must be up, I have to go.”

His laugh wasn’t cruel, but it was sinister “We have time. Don’t worry. I made sure.”

You didn’t dare look at the clock. Your gaze was locked into his anyway, whites of his eyes replaced by a deep, lustful red. He held your stare while dragging his tongue and snout along your heated skin.

He slipped an arm under your waist, tugging your torso in one direction as he stepped a hind leg up to nudge your hips in the other. He settled in between your legs once he had you parallel to the edge of the bed. You threw your arms over your head as he caressed your outer thigh, coaxing it around his waist while bending to savor the scent you'd released for him. When he was satisfied, he moved again to climb over your body.

You were aching for him, arching into the heat radiating from the closeness of his form. As you reached for his neck to pull him even closer, you realized why he'd kissed you before the turn. It would be awkward now to put your mouth on his. The shape didn't lend itself to an easy slotting of lips against one another, though you yearned for the recent memory.

As if he could sense your desire, he leaned in and nuzzled against your neck, behind your ear, then along your throat. He pushed your chin up with his muzzle to bare your pulse to him and then he nipped.

You whimpered at the sensation and even as he licked to soothe it, he did it again, a little harder, just shy of breaking skin.

"Please," you begged, eager to feel the power, though you knew it was strictly forbidden and you trusted he did as well.

His growl was full of bravado, as if he was proud to have you begging him to break the rules.

"You wanna get me in trouble?" Walter grumbled in your ear as he ran his paws up and down your body, dragging his claws carefully over your skin. He snarled when they snagged on the stockings and looked to you for approval before he tore them away from your legs completely.

"If you can't bite me, then at least mate me," you pleaded, knowing full well he couldn't do that either but you were too far gone to care. It would at least get him thinking about sinking his cock in you one way or another.

He reached for the drawer of the heavy wooden night stand and produced a few foil packets, dropping all but one on the bedside table and handing you the last, prompting an eyebrow raised in question from you. His response was measured, as if he struggled to control something deep inside.

"You have another choice to make," he began with a low rumble as he sought understanding in your eyes. "I can't mate you directly and I'm sure you know that. I have access to...toys, equipment that would allow you to feel that sensation, but it won't be me. If instead, you're willing to use protection with me, I will gladly fill you up."

If he wouldn't go bare, so be it. He wiggled his claws as you attempted to hand him the packet, sure you'd make a debacle of trying to sheath the monster between his legs.

"Just to be safe, you'd better do it. These are pretty sharp. That ok?" he grunted at you in question.

You nodded and scooted out from under him, up the bed so you had a little leverage. He kept a knee on the mattress as he stood tall from his other hind leg still on the floor and waited for you to tear the package and roll the condom down his cock.

"Is there anything special I need to do to make it fit?" you asked, vaguely aware of how ridiculous the question sounded but eager nonetheless to get past this part and onto the one where Walter would be deep inside you, filling every inch, stroking every wall. You'd already seen the size, but forgotten your initial trepidation thanks to the glorious head he'd given you.

Surely, no standard drugstore rubber would cover it. His huff was kind, and you could swear you saw the twinkle of a smile in his eyes as he answered.

"We bring them in special. They're designed for a ... more substantial, and sometimes even exotic, need. But if you know how to use one, you know how to use them all. Still alright?"

You nodded with a smile, and set to work, letting the heft and feel of his member draw you back into your haze of lust and desire now that logistics were out of the way. You worked the rubber over his girth and found yourself imagining what it would be like to have him split you in two. You couldn't wait and he could tell.

"So eager," he grumbled as he grasped your shoulders and eased you onto your back.

You thought about trying to tame your excitement, but to what end? For a brief moment the thought that you surely didn't have much more time left flitted through your mind and then you let the excitement and anticipation take over.

"Please take me now," you begged and captured the side of your lower lip with your teeth as you once again pictured the incoming pleasure.

"If anything feels uncomfortable, you can tell me to stop," he murmured in your ear as he lowered himself over you. "Say 'woodsman' and I stop. Understood?"

He pulled back to find your reply and when he had his confirmation he didn't hold back any further. As if no time had passed between when he had coaxed so much moisture from your core and now, you were still dripping for him when he grabbed ahold of his thick member and placed the tip at your entrance.

Any other man would have slid in easily, but Walter wasn't any other man and he knew it. Once the tip breached your aching pussy, he carefully nudged a knuckle alongside, pressing in and loosening the way. You spread your legs wider for him and willed your walls to relax, though they wouldn't.

Remembering what he said during the exchange about the condom, you pulled a hand off his shoulder, down his furry chest, and in between your bodies, reaching for the spot where you were connected. The growl he let out when he realized what you were doing was invigorating and spurred you on.

You watched him bend his head down so he could take in the sight of you stroking him a few times before you began to massage the folds at your entrance. You let your fingers tease your clit and when you couldn't stand it any longer, a time which you were sure had already passed, you split your index and middle finger and gently coaxed your opening wider.

As he felt the ease, Walter sank ever deeper until he was bottomed out and pressed as far in as he could. You saw stars, immediately, and loosened even more, coating him with warmth and juices that helped his movements.

In another time, with another man, that may have been it. Most men, if they even took the time to draw an orgasm from you through the missionary position, would collapse in almost relief as soon as you came, spending their load and ending the night then and there.

But you'd already established Walter was no mere man. He took your sigh as his cue to help you feel that way again and again. And when he couldn't tear another orgasm from you in this position, no matter how hard he pumped or how high he got your legs over his head, he pulled out and flipped you to all fours and slammed back in from behind, eager to wrench at least one last shout of pleasure from your lips before he spilled his seed in the condom and sent you to your belly with a slap on your ass as he withdrew from you entirely.

"Am I charged extra for that?" you mustered the energy to ask once he'd returned from the bathroom. You peeled one exhausted eye open to see he was back to his human form, though still completely unclothed and you wondered if anyone was lucky enough to enjoy that experience as well.

"Sorry?" he asked, a quizzical look on his face.

"Does this place charge by the volume? Was there a limit to the number of orgasms allowed? I imagine it has to be like the extra mini-bar charges they tack onto your bill when you check out of any other hotel, right?"

His laugh was deep and infectious. It reverberated through the room and your chest as he climbed into the bed beside you with the bowl of cheese and fruit in one hand and the bread in the other.

"We don't have a limit. You can have as many as you want. Care for a snack? Get your energy back?” Walter took the time to feed you small bites while your boneless body slowly recovered.

"We have to be so far over my time limit. Am I about to turn into a pumpkin now?" you asked after swallowing a final bite of bread.

Walter laughed again and it warmed your heart. Maybe he was just a really good actor, but nothing so far had rang false, so why would he try to fake this? He thought you were funny.

"No, nothing so drastic. But if you do want to rinse off before checkout, you should get a move on. I could carry you if you're still not up to moving just yet?"

You nodded, and as if you weighed nothing, Walter lifted you from the bed and deposited you in the shower cabin, away from the shower head while he fiddled with the water faucet. Once the steam began to rise, he pulled you in with him and helped you lather up and rinse off, careful to keep your hair away from the spray as best he could. Then he dried you off with a fluffy towel and helped you dress in your extra set of clothes, before tucking the cape in your bag with your original outfit.

"It's part of the basket fee," he answered your unasked question with a ridiculous wink. "If you book it again, they'll give you a discount, but you'll have to remember to bring it with you."

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the room again appeared as it did when you first entered what felt like hours ago. Surely more than two. Walter could sense your confusion.

“The hotel has some special features we don’t actually advertise,” he offered, as he pulled on his pants. “We use them at our discretion, but it means you get an experience unlike others. This room, for example, truly can transform into a deep forest. And I like to stretch the time here, especially for newcomers. When you walk out into that hall, it’ll be two hours since your arrival. We’ve been here for longer though. But do me a favor, wouldja? Keep that to yourself?” 

You nodded and smiled, appreciative of his special treatment, then took one last look around the room to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything. Walter walked you to the door and gave you a final kiss goodbye.

“I do hope everything was to your satisfaction. Hopefully, you’ll come back sometime,” he grinned at you as you stumbled backwards down the hall, not wanting to turn away from his gorgeous face. You were absolutely going to figure out a way to pick up some extra shift and make your way back to this hotel again if it killed you.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's a monster fucker lol!)

Werewolf!walter only (if you asked on the teaser):

@ellethespaceunicorn (hope this is okay! Tag me in whichever HC character werewolf you end up with!) @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 11) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 4.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Background Relationships; Medical Appointments; Suggestive Comments; Discussion of Mental Health (Depression, Anxiety, Post-Partum); Discussions of Goose and Carole; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake move in together and attend your twenty-week appointment.

Series Master List

Master List

A week and a half later, you were moving into Jake’s apartment officially. The two of you, with some help from Phoenix and Coyote, had already moved all of the smaller items out of your apartment. Bradley and Mav also stopped by—when Jake wasn’t there—to take some of the more sentimental items to hold onto for you in their bigger homes. 

So, all that was left were a few pieces of furniture. You sold some of your furniture but decided to either keep or store or give away the other pieces. And that meant that someone had to drag it down the stairs and shove it into the back of Jake’s truck or the trailer that Maverick brought. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Jake stated, watching as you rearranged the chairs around the table. 

“What?”

“You’re not carrying anything. It’s all heavy and we’re not risking you hurting yourself,” Jake insisted, walking over to you. “Just relax.”

“I think I can drag a chair a few inches,” you stated, shooting Jake a playful look. “But I won’t carry anything heavy. Promise.”

“Thank you,” Jake replied softly. “How’re they today?”

“I think I’m feeling flutters, but I don’t really know. I only seem to feel them when I’m trying to sleep, so I don’t know if I’m imaging them.”

Your twenty-week appointment was about a week away and both of you were a bit anxious about it. Of course, every first-time parent worried about the worst case-scenario at that appointment. That they were going to get some kind of news that would change the little fairytale that they built up in their mind. 

“Only when you’re trying to sleep?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?” 

“It’s like they’re teasing you. Or trying to stress you out more.” 

“They’re stubborn, that’s all.”

“They get it from both sides,” Jake replied, brushing his fingers down your bump. 

“Hopefully, they’re not too stubborn coming out,” you stated, glancing down at your bump as Jake took a step closer to you. Smiling up at him, you let out a chuckle. “What?”

“I’m just thinking about all the gas I’ll save when I don’t have to drive over here anymore," he explained, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“The gas, of course,” you hummed. 

You let out a louder giggle as Jake leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek and then down your neck. The two of you, since your kiss in the kitchen, had gotten a lot more comfortable and handsy with each other over the next few days. You hadn’t taken it all the way yet, both of you were still cautious about pushing too hard too fast, but you seemed to be moving in that direction. It was starting to remind you of how the two of you were before you found out that you were pregnant. 

Jake pressed a lingering kiss to your lips as his strong arms pulled you closer. And as you tangled your hand in his hair, returning the kiss, you heard the door to your apartment open. You turned your head and reflexively pushed Jake off of you when you saw Maverick standing there. 

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted awkwardly, running a hand through your hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Though you looked as if you weren’t expecting company,” Maverick quipped, working on his key ring. 

“I can explain,” Jake stated, causing Maverick to shake his head. 

“You already got her pregnant, Jake. There’s not much left to explain beyond that.”

“Mav,” you sighed, feeling like a teenager again. 

“Trailer’s parked out front. I didn’t know how you wanted to divide things up. Penny said that she would bring lunch over to your new apartment. And Bradley told me that he was leaving a couple minutes ago.”

“Great,” Jake replied dryly. 

“There's not too much left at least,” you stated, trying to perk Jake up. “But I have to give the key back to my landlord, Mav.”

Maverick pulled your spare key off of his chain and handed it over to you before turning to Jake. The two of them started to carry stuff downstairs to the trailer or Jake’s truck while you started to sweep up and do your final round of cleaning so that your landlord didn’t charge you extra. 

Jake and Maverick were out by the trailer, sliding your dresser into the back when Rooster walked over with his keys in hand. Leaning on the trailer wall, Rooster and Jake shared a glare before Bradley turned to Maverick. 

“Emma’s going to meet us there with Penny. I’ll text her when we’re finished up here.”

“We’ve still got a few trips left before that,” Maverick reported, walking over to Bradley. “We’re going to do the couch next.”

Bradley nodded and turned to head inside with Mav, leaving Jake to walk by himself. Jake wasn’t too perturbed. He was expecting the treatment from Bradley and the fact that Maverick hadn’t pushed him down the stairs after seeing the two of you together felt like a small victory. 

You were wiping down the counters when they returned to your apartment. You moved to greet your brother before the three of them walked over to your couch. You stood a bit nervously by the door, holding it open for them. 

“Please don’t hurt yourselves,” you told them as they started to carry it out. 

“We’ll be fine,” Jake assured you as he passed by. 

You watched them go before shutting the door. Moving over to the window, you sat down and watched for them. It was only three floors, but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to focus until the three of them emerged together. You weren’t so worried that the couch would be too heavy or anything like that. You were more concerned that they would use it to hurt each other. 

Jake and Bradley carried the ends of the couch while Maverick stood in the middle. Bradley stood on the lower set of stairs, simply because Jake wasn’t stupid and refused to step down first. Otherwise, he wasn’t confident that he would make it down to the bottom of the stairs. Not without a crack in the back of his head. Again, he wasn’t stupid. 

“Lift it up more,” Bradley grunted as they tried to turn one of the last corners. 

“I am,” Jake huffed back at him. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if you just did it,” Bradley snapped at Jake.

“Just lift, both of you,” Maverick stated firmly, shooting them both a look. 

They managed to walk around the corner with the couch and down the last set of stairs before setting the couch down on the floor to catch their breath and relieve their muscles. Bradley leaned on the couch, glaring over at Jake as Jake stretched his arms casually. Maverick was silent, but he was clearly watching them. 

“So, why are we moving my sister into your tiny apartment again, Hangman?” 

“Her lease is up and we’re having a baby together,” Hangman stated, like Rooster was as dumb as a brick. 

“And you couldn’t even get an apartment with enough room for a crib in it?” 

“Bradley,” Maverick stated, shooting him a look.  

“There’s enough room for a crib,” Jake snapped back at Bradley. “We already mapped it out. We wrote down the exact dimensions that we need. And even if we didn’t, it’s none of your fucking business, Rooster.” 

“Jake,” Maverick sighed, turning to the annoyed aviator. 

“It is my business when it involves my sister and my niece or nephew.” Bradley straightened up, staring Jake down. “She told me that you were looking at houses, but yet she said that she hasn’t been to any house showings. Why is that?” 

“None of your fucking business, Rooster.” 

“It’s not? Because it sounds like you’re selling a fantasy to my sister that you’re never actually going to deliver.” 

“That’s enough,” Maverick replied to both of them. 

“You would want your sister to just move into the first house that we found and could close on?” Jake stated, staring Bradley down. “We’re looking. But there’s other things that are more pressing that we have to deal with. But again, it’s none of your fucking business.” 

“And does she know that? Have you told her that?” 

“Alright, pick up your ends, let’s get it put into the trailer,” Maverick snapped, effectively ending the argument. 

You watched from above as Jake, Bradley, and Maverick walked out to the trailer with the couch. Letting out a breath of relief, you got up and turned to clean once again. There was just the tables, chairs, and another small dresser left, which Jake, Bradley, and Maverick carried down in three more trips. 

When it was all cleaned up, you took a moment to walk through the empty rooms, reminiscing about the memories that the place brought you. It was a sanctuary for you for a time. An escape, really. But it was an apartment for a version of you that was quickly disappearing and in a few short months would be gone completely.

You had grown out of it. And it was time to move on. 

“You alright?” Jake asked softly, standing at the threshold of the apartment.

“Yeah,” you replied, turning to him with a small smile. “I’m okay.” 

Picking up the keys, you walked over to Jake, pressed a kiss to his lips, and headed out. And into the new phase of your life. 

~~~~~

You and Jake arrived at your shared apartment first, since Maverick and Bradley were dropping off some stuff at their respective houses first. Penny was waiting for you in the parking lot and Jake assured you that he would be fine carrying everything himself. 

“So, how’d moving out go?” Penny asked you as you walked up the stairs. Your now shared apartment was on the third floor, so it was one less set of stairs than your previous apartment. “Pete gave me a brief overview.” 

“He probably knows better than me. He was the one who was dealing with them,” you sighed, pulling out your new set of keys. “I just want them to be able to coexist. They don’t have to like each other. Hell, they don’t even need to speak to each other. I just need them to be able to sit in the same room and not try to kill each other.” 

“They’re both stubborn and set in their ways,” Penny replied, shaking her head. “Have you talked to Emma about Bradley?” 

“Yeah, but there’s only so much she can do. Ever since Mom died, he’s always felt the need to be so protective over me. And I appreciated it sometimes but now I don’t need it now. I just want him to be happy for me. For us, me and Jake.” 

“He will. Maybe he just needs to see Jake supporting you—not that he isn’t already—for that to start to happen.” 

“He better get over it by the time I have this baby or I swear,” you muttered, moving to unlock your front door. You turned to Penny with less annoyance in your features. “You know, I really want to make Bradley and Emma the baby’s godparents. And the baby’s guardians if something were to happen to the both of us and—” 

“—Don’t talk like that,” Penny interrupted you, grabbing your shoulders. 

“Penny,” you sighed as the door shut behind her, “I’m not living in some delusion where I don’t think that bad things can happen. And I want it all written down and signed and everything before I give birth or just in case Jake gets dragged away.” Placing a hand on your bump, you looked down. “I want to be prepared.” 

“Hey, today is a happy occasion. You can focus on that stuff at another time. Right now, just enjoy the fact that everyone is healthy and that you’re moving forward in your relationship with Jake, okay?” You nodded slowly and Penny pulled you in for a tight motherly hug. “And that’s why I got you a gift.” 

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Penny.” 

“I know, but I saw it and just thought of you,” Penny replied, pulling away and reaching into the bag that she brought. 

“And you definitely didn’t need to wrap it,” you mused, taking the box from her hand. 

Gently tearing at the wrapping paper, you glanced up when the door opened and Jake walked in, carrying your nightstand and dragging a suitcase behind him. You shot him a smile as he glanced curiously down at the gift in your hands. 

“What’s that?” 

“Just a small gift,” Penny insisted, smiling kindly. 

You tore away the rest of the wrapping paper and pulled out a rectangular plaque. You were a bit confused when you noted the three raised squares, but when you read the painted letters above them, it all clicked.

The message of ‘Daddy’ + ‘Mommy’ = ‘Baby’ was so simple, yet so emotionally overwhelming.  

“You’re supposed to put your handprints here,” Penny explained, pointing at the squares. “Jake can put his handprint here and then you can put yours there and then when your baby comes, you can put their handprint there. They recommended red and white for your hands if it’s a girl, so that her handprint is pink. Or white and a darker blue if it’s a boy, so that his handprint would be a baby blue. And you can paint the baby’s name below the square too, right there.” 

“I love it,” you croaked out, emotions quickly bursting to the surface. “Thank you, Penny. I love it, I love it so much.” 

You pulled Penny back in for a tight hug, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. Jake looked on, concerned, but Penny gave him a reassuring smile and mouthed that it was alright. And when Jake continued to look concerned, Penny whispered ‘hormones’ to him. Jake nodded slowly and gently took the plaque from your hands. 

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you breathed out, wiping them away hastily. “It just hit me all of a sudden.” 

“It’s been a long day. You’re making big steps. It’s a lot to take in all at once.” 

“Yeah,” you breathed out, trying to get a reign on your emotions again. Turning back to Jake, who was still staring at you with a measure of concern. “Where do you think we should put it up, once it’s complete?” 

“Somewhere everyone can see it,” Jake suggested, causing you to smile and nod in agreement. 

~~~~~

Since most of your stuff was already at Jake’s apartment, it didn’t take too much longer to fully make it your shared space. And you already made space in the living room for baby stuff. It was still early, you knew, but the alternative was researching about what horrible things you could find out at your twenty-week appointment, so you kept on decorating. 

But today was the day, so you supposed that you couldn’t push it off anymore. 

Waiting a bit anxiously in your car, you let out a breath when you spotted Jake’s truck pull into the lot. You grabbed your purse and slipped out of your car, walking over to where Jake parked. He got out of his truck, dressed in his day uniform, and quickly moved to your side. Pulling you in for a gentle hug, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Are you alright?” he asked you, causing you to nod against his chest. “Everything’s going to be fine. Whatever we find out, it’s going to be fine, okay?” 

Jake locked up his truck before the two of you headed inside the office. You checked in and sat down, filling out some paperwork while Jake rested his arm behind your back. And when your name was called, the two of you silently walked back to the exam room. Laying back on the exam table, you stared at the ceiling as Jake rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. 

A knock at the door made you sit up and move to the edge of the examination table. Your obstetrician walked inside the room with a kind smile. It started off as any regular doctor’s appointment would. You went over your symptoms, your pains, your bloodwork, and everything else before moving onto the ultrasound. 

You immediately reached for Jake as the wand touched your belly and he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. She moved it around, typing away at her computer, taking a few images and measurements, before turning to you with a reassuring smile. 

“Your baby’s growing normally and as they should. Everything is measuring normal. They’re a little smaller than average, but nothing to be concerned about. They’re still a perfectly healthy and normal size.” She typed something else before turning back to you and Jake. “Do you still want to wait to know the baby’s sex?” 

“Yes, please,” you answered quickly.

“Alright, well, I’m just going to turn the screen briefly,” your obstetrician replied, hiding the information from you and Jake. 

“You can tell?” you asked quietly.

“Yes, but all the files are marked to keep that information completely private. Unless you change your mind, of course.” 

You nodded and shared a look with Jake, who pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Your obstetrician typed away again before moving the screen back to your view. And as she continued to tell you that everything was normal and healthy, you sunk in and started to relax and enjoy the moment. 

“Your baby seems to be a bit stubborn,” your obstetrician noted, trying to move the wand around your belly again to take some more measurements. “They start to cooperate and then seem to decide not to about three seconds later.”

“That’s not shocking,” you mused, watching the movement of your child on the screen. “Stubbornness is probably genetic for them.” 

After a few more pictures, your belly was wiped off and you sat up once again. Your obstetrician smiled kindly as she sat down on her stool in front of you. Jake sat beside you, more relaxed than when he walked in, but still alert, as your obstetrician turned to you.

“Alright, there’s just a few more screening questions and then we’re all set.” 

“Of course,” you agreed, nodding slowly.

“Mr. Seresin,” your obstetrician stated, causing Jake to turn to her. “Did you want to go and grab the ultrasound photos? A tech can bring you back there. And you can ask them any questions of your own about the process.” 

Jake hesitated for a moment but agreed and got up from his seat. You squeezed his hand in goodbye before he exited the room with one of the techs. Your obstetrician waited until he was gone before turning to you.

“At the twenty week appointment, we usually perform a screening of your mental health.” After you nodded, she began. “Have you ever had a history of mental illness? Anxiety? Depression? Eating disorders? Anything like that?”

“Yes,” you answered softly. “Depression and anxiety.” 

“When?” she asked, poised to type down the information.

“My mother passed away when I was twelve. And after that, I was diagnosed with depression and put in talk therapy for a time. But I stopped that when I was eighteen. And they put me on anti-anxiety medication when I was sixteen.” 

“Are you still on that medication?”

“No, I stopped it about a year afterwards. I was just going through a lot at the time and talk therapy wasn’t working completely. It was just to get me through that time and then I didn’t need it anymore.” 

“Have you had any flare ups since then?” 

“A few times,” you answered honestly. 

“You didn’t go back to talk therapy or medication or anything?”

“No, I just . . . waited for it to get better, I suppose. Probably wasn't the best decision, but I survived.” 

“Can I ask why you didn’t return to therapy or medication?” 

“Honestly, the only reason I went to therapy or went on medication when I was a teenager was because I had people in my family push me in that direction. But when I was an adult, I just . . . I wanted to just handle it quietly.” 

“Well, please document if you feel any depression or anxiety during your pregnancy and your postpartum period. It’s an overwhelming time for anyone and there’s no shame in asking for help of any kind.” Your obstetrician paused before asking softly, “Do you trust your partner to help you if you feel depressed or anxious?” 

“Yeah,” you answered honestly, nodding along. 

“And are you two living together?”

“Yes, we are.” 

“And you feel safe in that living situation? Do you feel safe and confident about bringing your baby into that environment?” 

“Yes, completely.” 

“Alright, well, please just document if you feel anxious or depressed.” She stood up and grabbed a pamphlet and handed it to you. “You can always call our office or there’s a helpline that you can call at any time. And there’s no shame in any of it.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, thumbing through the pamphlet. 

~~~~~

That night, you and Jake laid in bed, looking at the photos from your ultrasound together. You were curled up on his chest, resting most of your weight on him as Jake wrapped his arm around your waist, cupping your continuously growing bump with his hand. 

“Were you a small baby?” you asked Jake softly, staring at the ultrasound picture of your baby. 

“What?” he questioned, turning to you with some confusion.

“Were you a small baby when you were born?” you repeated for him. “She said that the baby was smaller than average.” 

“I never asked,” Jake replied, a bit elusively. 

“I was normal weight, according to my mom,” you stated, still staring at the photo. “Bradley was a large baby with a big fat head, but I was normal weight and size. Mav said that after I was born, my mom told my dad that she wished that I was born first. It would have been an easier delivery, she told him.” 

“You think that they’ll stay smaller?” 

“I hope so,” you mused with a smile. “I’d prefer a six pound baby to a ten pound baby, thank you very much.” You turned to Jake with a soft look in your eye, resting your head on his shoulder. “Your mom never complained to you about how big your head was or how you were overactive in her belly or anything like that?” 

“No,” Jake replied shortly. 

Your smile slipped a bit and you turned back to the ultrasound photo. Jake rubbed his hand slowly up and down your bump, soothing you in one way but making another part of you wander from his side. 

“Can I take this one?” Jake asked, causing you to turn back to him.

“What?”

“Can I take this one with me?” Jake asked you again, pointing at one photo from the roll. “I was thinking about putting a photo from the ultrasound in my cockpit. If that’s alright with you.” 

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, nodding to him and offering him a smile. “I think that’s sweet.” 

Jake nodded in return and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The two of you turned in for the night shortly afterwards. Rolling onto your side, you rested your head on your hand, staring out at the window. Jake gave your bump one last loving squeeze before moving away to fall asleep. And although you were exhausted and needed sleep, your mind kept you awake.

Staring at the window again, you paused when you felt that little flutter again. You smiled to yourself and glanced down at your bump.

“Right as I’m trying to go to sleep? Again?” you teased quietly. 

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[machiavellli]

In the HEAT of the moment

Pairing: Cal Kestis x chiss!jedi!reader

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: reader is in heat, unholy use of the force, slightly angst dynamic (we are a bit bratty), 0ral f&m receiving, p in v, dom!cal(?)/switch (accusingly), p0rn w/o plot (not really?), no use of y/n

Summary: Terribly h0rny on a ship with an attractive redhead, what could possibly happen?

MDNI!

Author’s note: it all started that I wanted to write an old classical sex pollen! fic, but then I remembered how a lot of people (myself included) headcanon chiss people to have a mating cycle and I thought it could be an interesting alternative. Also the only thing you really have to know about chiss people is that they are generally speaking slightly cold people, they have blue skin (NOT MENTIONED) and red eyes (which glows when they feel strong emotions). Reader is depicted as a force user, but this honestly only serves the purpose to make it even more filthy.

Sorry for the BAD DESCRIPTION of the Mantis, do you really care though? Also BD is safe and sound from any inappropriate view🤌

English isn’t my first language

I watched the red-haired figure beside me trying to land the ship as fast as he could, fear painted all over his face, anxiousness filling his chest. If only he could know what was actually wrong with me.

I was spread out on the co-pilot seat, breathing heavily, clothes increasingly damp from the sweat that was now clearly crowning my face. I was trying to concentrate exclusively on my force signature, or rather I was desperately trying to keep it closed. I just had to wait for the wave to pass, for this embarrassment to end.

I hated the fact that it happened in front of him, I usually was able to handle it myself. I wanted to shout at him to leave, I wanted to maintain my usual cold character, he had never seen this vulnerability in me before and he was scared.

He was probably thinking a fever had come over me, he couldn't possibly know how my biology worked and he couldn't, shouldn't know, that I was developing a soft spot for him.

It was so hard to be this close yet so far from his touch. If I had spoken I would have lost all control over my signature and he would have been able to sense my heat expanding. How the heat ran more and more in my blood until I felt my eyes burning. If only he could know.

I remained contorted in the chair, trying to tighten all my limbs, trying to make myself smaller and smaller, to repress this uncontrollable situation. My head was back, eyes half closed, I couldn't look at him, even though the image of him, those damn red hair, was now imprinted on my retina. Every time I tried to open my eyes even slightly, he would turn his worried gaze in my direction. My glowing red eyes left me no opportunity to escape his peripheral vision.

I closed my eyes definitively, trying to cling to the little concentration I had left. I could feel Cal landing the ship, this is absolutely useless, I kept thinking. BD scanned me, «I know her temperature and pulse are high, I can see it» he replied with a frustrated tone to the droid, he didn’t like at all this unusual situation.

My eyes were still completely shut, not even for the love of the Maker I was going to open them, especially now that I could hear him rising from his piloting seat.

«You have to tell me something though, what the hell is happening to you, you were fine thirty minutes ago» he was now hovering over my face, and I could feel his warm breath as he spoke.

His hand reached out for my face, but I quickly sent him away, dismissing it with my arm, still, the brief touch made me tremble from the inside. And he noticed it.

You aren’t getting any information out of me, I would explode before letting you know anything, I thought.

He loudly snorted, starting to grow frustrated by his anxious state and my attitude.

«Listen, you got to tell me something. Why can’t I access your signature? You never blocked it. Let me read you» he then gripped with decision at both of the sides of my now completely sweaty head and made me face him.

I had to bite so hard my lips to hide the moan that almost made it out, to the point where I tasted my own boiling blood.

Focus, focus, focus. For the love of the Maker and for my dignity.

I tried to remove myself from his cautious touch, but his callous hands gripped harder, keeping me firm in my place. I then opened my eyes, the light of the cockpit invading my sight, making my eyes water from the discomfort, but I kept my burning gaze on him. Hopefully, even if a tear started to descend, he would recognise my furious gaze, which I had unfairly dedicated him numerous times, on missions, but also in everyday activities. I was just trying to keep my distance for all of those months, but all the crafting I did on my persona was breaking just in front of his eyes. If only he knew.

«I just want to help you. Let me help you. I know that you hate being helped, especially by me, but I need you alive and healthy kriff» he sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, but I kept my gaze fixed on him, breathing even more heavily. It felt like oxygen wasn’t enough. Because it wasn't, as I resignedly knew; and I knew I was going to need his help if he didn't get out of here in mere seconds.

«Since I don’t know what’s the matter with you, I’m sorry, but I have to try to access your mind. You look like something is giving you a panic attack» how ironic.

If only he knew.

After that sentence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold the game, the control I had over my force signature was feeble, so it took me all my strength to do it, but I kicked him as hard as I could in the stomach, desperately trying to send him away. The kick ended up being much more delicate than I had in mind, it didn’t even hurt him, but it still made him step back a little and remove his delicious hands from my skull. I tried to catch the opportunity to leave the cockpit, but as I tried to stand up, my bloody wobbly limbs made me crash on the floor, my head hitting the seat just above and failing forward.

I hissed in pain, desperate, needy and desolate for the scene that Cal had to endure. I was barely lifted from the floor with my elbows, I lifted up my gaze towards his direction. Hairs sticking to my forehead and breath still as heavy as an imperial cruiser.

«Let me help you. You are a mess» he slowly walked next to me, lowering his broad figure to my level. Flashes came back in mind from all the times I had the upper hand over him, in our training sessions or missions. I was so good at hiding everything, until I wasn't.

«Y-you need…t-to stay away from me» I whispered and it made him widen his eyes from the surprise that I could speak. Words as light as air destined to fall into the sea of ​​uselessness as quickly as lead. And with that, the unstable hold I had on my signature fell.

«I can’t leave you here, don’t be rid-» he started saying by lifting me from my arms. And with that, he knew. Now he knew.

Moments that felt eternal passed as I held again my gaze, now completely stripped of any decency. Kriff, if he knew.

I couldn’t reach for his signature, I simply lacked the strength to do so, but I was sure that he was scanning my interior from top to bottom, I could sense him everywhere in me. It was so good, I imagine the real touch, how good that must feel.

«Go away.» I replied, closing my tired eyes once more, letting my head fall forward, hiding hopelessly my bare mind.

«But I thought that I felt so good…» he said meanwhile rising my head once more, lifting my chin with one of his damn hands. And a light moan escaped my lips.

My mind went blank there, eyes fixed on him as I would be staring into the void itself and my mouth opened from the shock, revealing the now dried blood painted on my lips. I felt the agonising tears and the sweat mixing over my face, this was purely mortifying.

One thing was being shamed without addressing it and one thing was whatever was going on here. But as much as I felt shamed, I felt this growing heat rising once again in me: it felt good.

And it certainly didn’t help when he started to gently brush away the dried blood from my lips with his thumb. I was just glad his eyes were fixed on them and not my eyes, you know, for the sake of my decency.

«All of this…all of this for what?» He chuckled lightly, readjusting his gaze on me, making our eyes entangled again «For hiding from me? The only one ashamed is you, wilful as always».

«Leave the matter to me, I-I will handle-»

«You don’t get to handle a thing. Be a good girl and let me help you or your rut won’t pass» he voiced firmly.

This time, my eyes widened in surprise and the little nickname made my body flinch.

«Tell me you want my help and you will be served.»

For a moment, I breathed heavily again, focusing entirely on reaching for his signature: he was being honest. That’s all I needed. I needed him and he knew. He knew it all.

«Help me, n-need you»

Without any other dancing around, he lifted me easily, closing the cockpit door of the Mantis behind him, and locking up BD. My head instinctively went back, just for him to catch it with his large hand. I wanted any clothes off.

Once we reached for the table, he delicately leaned me against its surface, ice against my warm skin. He climbed over me with his broad figure, feeling his own arousal growing. He waited for this for so long. And I did not know.

Our lips, now, mere inches away. I was hot, but kriff, I could feel his heartbeat also running. Our breaths mixed over our faces and for cutting short all the theatrical tragedy, I simply lifted one of my hands to cup his face, making him come instinctively closer. Now as my lips danced on his, I knew it was over.

I was burning, to the point where the heat gave me back my strength and I started holding onto his hair with both of my sweaty desperate hands, making a moan escape from him. He felt like a sweet fresh relief from my pain, but Force, if I need more than that. Our hips then started to stroke against each other, searching for the real relief.

It felt like we were eating off each other’s faces, sloppy kisses filled with burning passion, mixing with the sweat and blood, nothing too different from our condition on a battlefield wryly.

Then, he started travelling down to my neck and moans finally freely left my mouth, as I felt the ginger growing harder on my thighs.

«You are so warm, so good» he muttered half moaning into my neck as his hands started working on my tunic, but he stopped for a moment and looked at me with those pretty green eyes: «Can I?».

«Hurry.» was my response.

And he hurried. Basically ripping my damp tunic away, and without losing a second he was on my breast, skilfully sucking one as he played the nipple of the other with his callous hand.

«So soft, can’t believe I had to wait this long» he whispered as his voice grew hoarse with desire.

«More Cal» I whined softly, now completely blinded by lust.

And my wish was his command.

He navigated down, in the direction of my wetness, leaving a trail of careless kisses behind. His hands, which felt frigid, given my temperature, followed him as he went down, gripping firmly my waist, and making my eyes roll. Hence, he held me still with one large hand flat over my lower stomach, pressing lightly, as the other worked to remove my trousers. At last, I was bare before him, a desire I hid for long.

«It took you a heat wave, almost a heart attack, for letting me touch you. So obstinate to prove yourself, when you were already perfect in front of me» he breathed while he lowered himself, as my thighs were being spread upon his face.

As my legs parted, I felt my indecent drench slide down, feeling exposed and turned on like never before.

«You are going to be my four-course meal» he mumble, taking a look at my condition and smirking, before starting to rub over my sensitive clit, as his breath kept teasing me.

I was in no condition to speak, my mind was already far too gone, and filthy sounds were the only thing coming out of me. And Force, the sight would have killed any Jedi master back at the temple. Too bad.

Once he considered it enough, he closed the gap between my heat and his lips, starting to suckle intensely, holding me open for him, feeling every one of his digits pressing into my flesh. The touch felt electric, combined with his force signature overwhelming me inside. I wanted him, may this be the last thing I ever do.

And he damn knew.

«For someone so bitter, you taste so sweet» A low groan escaped from him as he gripped greatly at my inner thighs, parting my lips even more, whilst I held on the table for my damn life, trying to steady myself as my body trembled beneath him.

His lips, the swirling of his tongue over my swollen bud, the slightly cool sensation from his lower temperature and the air around us, were driving me wild. I was getting close and instinctively I tried to force my legs closed, but I was immediately shut by his powerful hands, keeping me more open and vulnerable than ever.

«Don’t try. Let me have what is mine» he hissed while flipping me over to my stomach.

My face and chest made contact with the cold surface, as I felt my hips being lifted and dragged at the edge of the table. His cool grip, air, surface and exposure made my walls clench. The sight of my bare ass made his cock, still hidden beneath all his clothes, twitch in anticipation. He nudged over my warm soft flesh, admiring my curves, gripping it with force and giving it a loud slap.

«Don’t you think you were bratty enough? It feels so good to have the upper hand, no wonder you like it some much»

He was enjoying this almost as much as me, the only difference being that I was utterly submitted to my own desire, my rut, desperately trying to get me filled with his seed.

He lowered once more his gaze to my warm, opening my lips with his rough thumbs, as my wetness fell on the table’s surface. His mouth captured my clit once more, making me tremble from the newly acquired angle, but his hands were quickly on my sides, supporting my weight.

We kept filling the room with my indecent moans and his low groans as he ate me out like a starved man, till the point where I reached my peak, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation coursing through my body. Oh Force, oh stars. Why did I wait so long for him?

Instinctively, I let my hips fall on the table and Cal followed me, resting his head on my lower back, giving it a soft kiss. We were both breathless, but we were both far from being over with this.

We both knew.

My heat returned after mere seconds, making me whine. I flipped myself over as Cal lifted himself from me, gripping one of my ankles to drag me closer to him.

«Undress. Come over to the table. Quick.» I commanded and so he did as I said.

Rapidly he removed his own clothes and I got to stare at his toned pale body, covered in delicious freckles and reddish hairs travelling all the way down to his throbbing member. What a show.

He climbed for the second time that day over my figure and when he got to the level of my face, I decided that before anything else, I would have to taste him, my thoughts driven by my burning lust. I took him from his shoulders, switching our positions, causing his head to collide with the table and blocking him with my thighs, my wetness now pooling on his lower stomach, just above his crotch.

«My turn, you had your fun Kestis»

Whiteout giving him the time to protest, I descended over his body, leaving a trace of warm bites from his neck till the lowest part of his abandonment, making him squirm at every touch. I felt like my blood was boiling even more, raising my temperature once again.

I softly bit the flushed skin of his cock, before opening my watery mouth and taking as much as I could from his size. My boiling mouth, working in sinuous movements around his member, made him let out a low groan, overwhelmed by the sensation.

«If o-only I could’ve shut you up before like this, mhm. So pretty. So good.» he stated bringing his hands over his face moaning, lifting his hips up a little, causing me to pleasantly choke on him.

Hence, he moved one of his hands on my head, encouraging me to go deep, to move faster, increasing his excitement. From now on, I wouldn’t have ever again protested to remain silent.

Then, he lifted my head from him, a hand taking me from my chin, cleaning once more my lips, but not from blood this time.

«Nobody here wants me to come in your mouth, let’s be honest» he asserted and it was almost as if my rut snapped me out of my state, remembering what I truly want and need.

All I wanted was being filled, till I couldn’t take it anymore, filling me with pleasure and relief from the unbearable heat that has been consuming my body.

«Please» I pleaded softly, biting my lower lip between my teeth, desperation adorning my words.

Cal lifted me from my stance, sitting up and swinging my legs around his lap, my core just in front of his.

«You are beautiful, you have always been amazing, even if I thought you hated me» he spoke softly, caressing with one hand my face, removing some of the hairs sticking over it, whilst, with the other one, he held my waist firmly.

«I am sorry, I was just trying to be professional» I confessed lowering my gaze. The sounds of our heartbeats were the only thing I could hear as our force signatures started to entangle.

«You were more annoying than professional» he chuckled, «And professional for who? Do I look professional? C’mon.»

«Mhm…annoying…just because I kept beating your ass Kestis»

I took his chin with one of my hands, as the other gripped at the nape of his neck, his Adam’s apple rising as I bit again into his neck, making him breathe heavily.

«So annoying…» he moaned, «Tell me what you need to make you feel better, I would do anything for you»

Our signatures overflowing into each other, make me see the stars and the kriffing galaxy, I said in his mind. He thankfully knew.

Without another thought, he laid my back again on the surface, as he towered over me.

Breathe in, breathe out.

His fierce mouth was on mine, filthy kissing me, catching restlessly my swollen lips and whimpering while doing so. His hand adorned my curves, clasping at the softness of my hips, gently moving one leg up, aligning himself at my entrance.

Locking our eyes, sharing one last breath, before his length entered me.

Instinctively, I rolled my eyes back as his thick member filled me completely. He was everywhere inside of me, his pleasure was mine and mine was his. The Force could reserve such unholy uses.

«See? Good girls get stretch real good» he muttered in a groan of pleasure.

The carnal desire was burning more now than ever.

As he moved inside of me, I arched my back and let out soft moans, whilst he was holding me tightly, growling at the nape of my neck. I clenched my walls around him as he hit every sweet spot just right. Every deep trust emanated a lustful indecent sound, skin against skin, clapping together, coiled by sweat and desire.

He was filling me divinely, but I needed it raw. Animalistic. As my rut intended.

But, without words, he knew that.

Cal flipped me over, grabbing onto my waist from behind, as he impaled himself without warning in one trust. His powerful thrusts sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through my entire being, and I felt the intensity of his emotions radiating through every cell in my body as he poured into me relentlessly. One of his hands reached for my neck, bringing him even more inside of me.

As our hearts synchronised, the combination of the raw act and our force signature fuelled his movements. the connection deepening with each powerful stroke.

Every noise, every sound of pleasure, filled the room, intoxicating our actions even more, the sound of our skin colliding acted as a frame, in this almost dazzling lust.

We both become lost in the heat of the moment, Cal blinded by my rut that I shared with him in the force.

His cock throbbed with excitement, eager to release its energy deep within my welcoming embrace. The redhead filled me up completely with his solid, pulsating presence. The sensation was invigorating, propelling both of us closer to the brink of euphoria.

«Close» I mumbled with the little strength left in me.

His muscles tensed, as I tightened around him, feeling my pleasure intensify as Cal’s arousal reached its peak.

With his last powerful strokes and the connection we shared in that moment, I saw the stars and the galaxy, feeling our bodies intensely tremble at the reach of our high, whilst gasping loudly.

He painted my inside white with his warm liquid, turning my body temperature back to normal.

Breathless, he fell onto my back, his nose brushed deliberately over my ear, with his member still inside of me.

Restored our normal heartbeats, he lifted the both of us from the table, guiding us to the sofa, where I sat on his lap, brushing some of his hair away as he did the same with me.

«I had no idea chiss had a mating cycle»

«Nobody knows, it’s embarrassing»

«It was fun in my opinion baby» he confessed before giving me a small caste kiss. The action, made me flush and smile unintentionally, which produced a soft laugh from the redhead.

«Fellow associate» I replied, hiding the smile.

«Don’t start again ple-»

«The cycle lasts a week» I said, cutting him off by placing one finger over his own swollen lips.

His eyes widened and a smile formed upon his face as I pressed my forehead on his, smiling, without control this time.

There was nothing he didn’t know now.

Lovely gifs from @vindicia !!

Beautiful dividers from @cafekitsune !!

Star Wars masterlist

General masterlist

My request are open, just know that I’m slow✨

[copperbadge]

Okay so wait a minute, with this aphantasia thing. I don’t think I have aphantasia because I process audio fine, in fact I prefer not to have any visual, but apparently there is some relationship between it and ADHD. I’m not trying to be confrontational in any of this but I’m bewildered by the idea of mentally picturing things you listen to or read about. It’s bothered me since I posted the ask. 

I can picture things in my head, if I stop and make a conscious decision to build them, but if I’m doing that I can’t do anything else -- I can’t listen to a podcast and picture it in my head and also do something with my hands. Come to think of it I probably couldn’t even keep up with the podcast if I was trying to picture it in my head, I’d struggle to choose which things to imagine and by the time I got them built they’d have moved on. It never feels like a very useful thing to do, because I’ve already got the words, that’s the important part, and I’d rather be doing stuff. I just assumed that most of the time when people talk about picturing stuff they’re either doing it very deliberately, like a guided meditation, or they’re being poetic, like people don’t actually do that, we just say we do as a way of describing someone thinking about something.

So, I’m listening to a podcast in which the host reads a letter from Napoleon Bonaparte to his brother, discussing his brother’s relationship with his wife (“she’s still young, let her dance if she wants, don’t lock her up with the kids all day.”) If you see images in your head when you hear audio, are you seeing the host reading off a sheet of paper, or Napoleon writing the letter, or Napoleon talking to his brother, or are you seeing Napoleon’s brother being mean to his wife? If you don’t know what any of these people look like, do you just make something up? 

Jesus Christ, when people read erotica do they picture the sex happening? What’s that like? You just get porn in your head involuntarily? I mean, not involuntarily, you’re choosing to read the text, but it just shows up when you do? 

Writers, when you write do you get mental images as you go? I often will pause in writing to build a mental image in my head and then describe it but as soon as I do it disappears, and it’s mostly a waste of time so I really only do that when I need to describe a space that people are moving around in (like the fishing lodge with the kitchen bar dividing the living room and kitchen, I do have several mental “camera snaps” of that setup, but I don’t picture it when I’m writing about it). 

This might explain why I always get yelled at for not describing people in my books. It’s simply unimportant to me 99% of the time and awkward to try and insert it the other 1%. I don’t picture people in my head when I read -- they’re a personality, a collection of characteristics. My characters don’t have faces to me, like how people in dreams don’t have faces, you just know who they are. I describe them but that’s just words I really like, or I pick out people who already exist and just say “oh they look like that”. Obviously when someone wants a description I do my best to supply it, but in prose it’s just not important. 

This is genuinely blowing my mind. This is why people always want descriptions of things! They get to see the descriptions! Reading a book must be like going to an art gallery anytime you want without moving. Is that what it’s like? Is this super common, like am I the weird one, or is this just like for people with super vivid imaginations? 

[oleander-nin]

Im not sure if you still take reqs so sorry if you dont but can you do yandere donnie with a reader thats really bad at taking care of themself? Like they’ll stay up until like 5am playing videogames and end up sleeping in so much they decide to skip breakfast and lunch then end up eating a snack instead of a real meal for dinner because its to much work

A/N, not important: Uhh, I think I may have done this wrong- I had an idea, but somehow this came out instead. If it's majorly not to your tastes, send the request again and I'll try again. Thank you sm to @lethelagoon for the title and for helping me with the fic! Also this is posted on the tenth and not the third because I posted smth on the first and decided I could just skip to this week. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: mention of feeding tube, descriptive, mentions of drugging, pills, needles, abuse, kidnapped reader, dark themes, yandere themes

Words: 1357

Summary: Donnie comes home and finds out you broke his rules. Again.

“Do we need to go over your schedule again?” Donnie’s smooth voice sounds from behind me. I look towards him, shrinking down in fear. I set the console SHELLDON swore I was allowed to use down, racking my brain to try and find an excuse to get out of this. It had taken me three months to convince him I was fine being left alone, three months to convince him I wouldn’t break the schedule he created for me. Yet here I was, caught with the console on and his(or ours, as he liked to claim) bed unmade, the clock shining the traitorous numbers brightly. It was three in the morning, and Donnie had just returned from a mission, catching me in the act. I gulp. This was not going to go well.

“Well?” He asks, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. A scowl was on his face, signaling his distaste to the world. I chew on my cheek, opening my mouth and closing it over and over, trying to think of something to say. I didn’t want to be drugged again. I wouldn’t let him drug me again.

“I couldn’t sleep.” I say. It was a half-truth, which is better than a full lie. He can’t prove I wasn’t having trouble sleeping. Hopefully he won’t realize I never tried.

Donnie scoffs, a scowl set on his face. “Then you ask SHELLDON for sleep medicine. That is not an excuse and you know it. Gosh, you’re so- UGH!”

I cower back, my hands starting to shake as he paces around the room, his arms flailing as he continues to rant. I was going to be punished again, I was sure of it. Images of the isolation room and chains flashed through my mind, the slick taste of pills burning my throat. I couldn’t go through that again. I never wanted that to happen again.

Noticing my shaking, Donnie rolls his eyes and crosses the room in quick succession. He scoops me into his arms, holding me close while he continues to grumble under his breath. His arms were tense, the muscles more defined due to his anger. I couldn’t help the wave of panic coursing through my veins, my mouth going dry. 

I brace myself for the sharp pinch of a needle, but it never comes. I glance at his face, his dark eyes boring into mine. He wasn’t pleased, that was certain, but I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t freaking out. Last time I did something like this, he stripped the room of anything I could mess with and kept me locked up for a month. I still remember the pills he brought in, every night at seven. I shudder at the thought, the feeling of my body shutting down and pulling me into an unwanted sleep. 

He continues to stare at me, scanning my face slowly. He sighs in irritation, adjusting me in his arms before carrying me further into the room and setting me on the bed. He sits on the edge, his eyebrows furrowed as he takes his gear off slowly, letting each glove and padding fall to the floor. His steady hands were shaking in anger, his drawn eyebrows furrowed. My chest is tight in fear, knowing what was to come. The only wonder I had was why he was taking so long. I watch his face, trying to look past his eyes and learn what he was thinking. His silence was never good, a painful indicator of how ruthless he could be. Silence was a warning with Donnie, never a blessing.

“You didn’t listen.” He says, his voice tight. He’s not looking at me, his eyes trained on the floor. His hands squeeze the blanket of his bed, his green knuckles going white from the force. My blood runs cold and I desperately try to think of a way to fix this. He looks back over at me, his eyes narrowed and furious. “Why? Do you think I’m wrong? Do you not see the way I love you and want you to improve?”

I stay silent, unable to form a response. I didn’t know how to tell him the way he loved me was wrong in every way possible. I didn’t know how to tell him I still wanted, no needed, my escape from reality. 

His eyes wash over me again, my body feeling heavier with each look he gave me. It was like every time he scanned my body, another layer of fear and shame was set on my shoulders. The room was getting smaller, my lungs struggling to take in air. My left hand crosses my chest and sits on my shoulder, my right digging painfully into my thigh. I couldn’t do this. I wanted to go home. I hate him, I hate him so much. I can’t do this, I can’t be near him. All he does is hurt, and take, and I can’t leave. I was going to die here, stuck under the sick obsession of a mutant turtle.

I feel his hand on my back and I try not to cry, panic and fear growing until I feel as if I would pop. I couldn’t live like this, not any longer. I look up, seeing the way his face had tensed. I could see his lips moving, but couldn’t hear the words. I feel my throat ache from the held back tears, my entire body thrumming in sync with my heart. It was too fast. His room was too dark.

“Breathe.”

I suck in a sharp breath at the order, my body conditioned to do as he says without question. His hand goes under my chin, gripping it firmly, but not harshly. He makes me look into his eyes, the same eyes that were unbothered as he locked me away for weeks. The same eyes that stared angrily as he shoved a feeding tube down my throat when I forgot to eat. A sob bubbles from my chest as I try to pull back, survival instinct kicking in. His grip on my chin grows tighter, his other arm looping around my back and holding me in place. He places his forehead against mine, his lips moving once more. I could feel the words around me, the vibrations in the air, but I couldn't hear them. I could understand what he was saying, but I didn’t know what he said.

I continue to cry involuntarily, the hand holding my chin shifting to cup my cheek so he can wipe the tears as they fall. It didn’t help, his thumb wasn’t fast enough to wash them all away. I sit like that for nearly twenty minutes, the world around me crashing down and landing on my chest. My vision swirls with each sob while Donnie continues to hold me and whisper useless, silent words.

My vision swims one last time before the room starts to come back into focus, a harsh ringing in my ears. Donnie’s face is inches from mine, his drawn eyebrows furrowed. I stare at them through my sniffles. I never noticed he didn’t take off his mask. I try to turn my head to look at the room, but his grip on my face is strong.

“Are you done?”

I blink at him, his thumb roughly swiping my cheek as a stray tear falls. I forgot how his voice sounded for a moment. I take a deep breath, nodding. I didn’t have any other way to tell him, and I doubted I would fall into another fit. His hands fall from my face and I lean my neck back, staring at the ceiling. I felt numb, like my tears washed away every emotion my body once held. I couldn’t tell if I felt free, or even more suffocated. It was surreal, having my body be able to go through such stress before falling back as if nothing had happened.

Donnie’s hands trail down me, as if he was afraid I’d fall apart if he let go. They loop around my waist, pulling me firmly into his lap before he shifts on the bed and falls backwards, keeping me on his chest. I don’t fight it this time, letting him press a kiss to the crown of my head while he slowly rubs my back.

“This is what happens when you don’t listen, love.” His voice is quiet, one hand leaving my back to take his mask off while the other holds me tight. I let my head fall, my cheek pressed uncomfortably against the hard of his plastron. I let my eyes close, too tired to fight him any longer. I feel his chest vibrate as a small chuckle can be heard from him. “There you go. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up so we can discuss your new schedule. This will never happen again.”

I feel my stomach churn at his words, but I do nothing more than hum in agreement. I couldn’t fight anymore, my energy zapped. I just hoped I could sleep in tomorrow. I would delay a talk with him forever if I could. I take another breath and sleep comes for me, dragging me down into the darkness of my mind.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Heavenly Skies- Part 2

credit for gif goes to fabiolajyx

James Beaufort x Reader

NOTICE FOR NEXT FIC. IT WILL BE 18+ FOR SEXUAL ACTIVITIES AND DESCRIPTIONS.

Synopsis: Part two of heavenly skies - Ruby and James get into one of their arguments during class, in which she tells him that no one would ever love him truly.

warnings: None? I think?

This one is shorter than other fics. I just didn't know what else to add, and everything else I thought about didn't feel right.

James had finally returned back to Maxton Hall, and upon his arrival, many could tell that he had changed. No one knew exactly what had happened, but after a bench and a plaque was erected in Y/N’s name, many started to talk, and eventually it had become an unspoken rule within the walls of Maxton Hall. 

Don’t speak about Y/N. Specifically, don’t talk about her to or around James Beaufort. Additionally, it also became known that the bench that was dedicated to her, also belonged to him. No one else sat in it, and if they did, they received a heavy barrage from a certain Beaufort. 

However, there was one person who didn’t care what she said, in order to hit all of the right buttons. 

“How can you be so empty minded?” Ruby called out James in class, specifically the one that would help prepare them for Oxford and the expectations of the university. “Or is it the money talking?Did it go too far into your head that you lost all sense?” She had turned around in her seat. She glared at him, and Lin was doing everything in her power to try and calm her down. 

“Money has nothing to do with my intelligence.” 

“No, but you let it speak for you.” James puffed out his cheeks. 

“It’s never about the money. From a business standpoint, money isn’t the only thing taken into account. There is more to it. Stats, logistics, the commercial avenue of the marketing industries and their customers-” 

“Never about the money?” Ruby asked. She scoffed. The professor had tried to calm the two down, but when the two started to raise their voices, her own voice was drowned out. Her attempts were pointless. “It’s always about the money for you, regardless if it’s from a business standpoint or not. That’s how every single silver spoon child is. Money is their source of greed and they feed into it at every moment of every day. Your businesses only supply the rich and anyone else who tries gets ridiculed!” 

His voice grew quiet. 

“It’s not that way for all of them.” His mind wandered to Y/N. Images of her in his mind filled the empty spots. A thriving flower in the middle of a bunch of suffocating dandelions. She was the only positive thing about Maxton Hall. The only positive thing about his life. She was a vine, weaving herself amongst his body, taking root with the intentions to stay there for eternity. 

“What?” 

“It’s not that way for all of them.” He raised his voice slightly more. 

“So now we are defending the money hungry people of society? The people that allow those of a lower class like me to suffer and be overwhelmed by the knowledge that they will never be as good as people like you? That’s such a relief.” 

“You don’t know what you’re going on about.” 

“I do.” 

“No. You don't know anything.” He argued. Images of Y/N filled his mind again and he swallowed thickly, his eyes burning into Ruby Bell. 

“I know you, and I think that’s enough, considering that you are the worst of those who go to Maxton.” Ruby bit back. 

“You don’t know me.” 

“I know that you look at every single lower class person the same way, including me. We will never amount to you and what you can achieve in the same way. You had everything handed to you on a silver platter and had eaten with silver utensils. You barely have to work for what you have now while me and everyone else like me have to work our asses off to get to where you are now. And even then, that will never be enough.” Ruby seethed as the two of them glared at each other. “And that is why no one will ever love you. Noone of their right mind will ever want to devote their time to you because they actually love you. They only want your money and that’s all they will ever want.” 

James grew quiet and every single student had their eyes on him. He shook with anger, glaring at Ruby Bell, but couldn’t think of anything to say. The only person who looked at him with sympathy was Lydia, in which his eyes had glanced at her quickly, staking in her saddened look. 

“James.” 

“Yea, sweetheart?” 

His eyes filled with tears as he looked around the room. What was he doing? Y/N’s face showed up in his mind again, imagining her laughter and voice. 

“I love you.” 

James turned his gaze back to Ruby Bell, who was opening her mouth as she continued to talk, but as he watched her lips move, no words could be heard. Even if he willed himself to listen to what she was saying, his mind was preoccupied. He was drowning in everything about Y/N. 

“Promise?” 

He clenched his fists together on the desk. His jaw clenched and he blinked away the tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. 

“Promise.” 

James abruptly stood up, grabbing his bag and coat, then stomped out of the room. 

—

Her parents weren't surprised when they got home and seen James in Y/N's study. He was curled up on the couch in there, the fireplace crackling in the background. James was wrapped in Y/N's favorite blanket, sherpa lined and extra soft, a maroon hoodie in his hands. Y/N's Maxton Hall hoodie.

James snored softly, twitching every now and then in his sleep. They noticed the tear tracks, knowing that too long ago, he had been crying. That he had even likely cried himself to sleep.

A bottle of Y/N's favorite wine had evidence of being open, with a half empty glass on the coffee table next to it.

They smiled softly, happy to know that James felt safe and comfortable enough to allow himself to be this vulnerable. They gave him a safe place to grieve and had welcomed him to come over whenever he wanted to.

When they finally turned to their left, where Y/N's paints had been pulled out, and a partially covered canvas filled the easel, they paused.

On the canvas was a loosely planned painting, the main colors being blocked out for just the moment. However, they knew already who it was going to be. Maybe it was the hair that gave it away, her clothing type, or even the position in which she was being painted, but they knew that the person depicted in the painting was Y/N.

And if that didn't work to show who he was painting, then his open sketchbook, littered with memory drawings of Y/N surely would have given it away. Even in death, she was still everything to him.

When her parents finally left the room, allowing James to have his peace and quiet, he opened his eyes. Tears pricked his eyes as he turned his head to look at the painting.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

-----

@sillyfreakfanparty @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @benbarnesprettygurl

[mapoeggplant]

skip to loafer chapter 58 analyze // spoilers

takamatsu-sensei continues with her beautiful and delicate writing, respecting her characters so that they themselves come into their own at the right moments — extending even to the secondary characters.

when i first opened the chapter and saw kazakami, i confess i was a little surprise. on one hand, exploring more of his character was something i was waiting for so long. on the other, it surprises me how she chose such moment to explore him a little further, but now I understand why she did it.

while we see the ending of the summer trip and mitsumi opening up to her friends as a closure to a long storyline, we do have to keep in mind that it only opened another door, way more tricky to explore. to dive deep into that right away would give her little to no time to explore the other characters that englobes the narrative and makes it function. it’s such an intelligent way to keep the plot flowing and adding more details to it.

well anyways, i digress. let’s focus on kazakami for now:

i’ve seen a lot of people often calling him a little selfish or self centered before, since the little scenes we had with him, his posture were always nonchalant. for me, it always felt like something was off, something he was hiding. not that i was sure about it, it just felt like “hm…this comes from a place of defense”. giving up soccer and focusing on being the president, for exemple, gave me an impression of him trying to find a distraction and a way to keep boosting his curriculum. and now, with more information, i have my doubts.

for kazakami’s backstory, sensei uses a plot she’s been using for a while: the “show not tell”, where she explicit give us a little of said character as a way to keep us going — for shima, the scandal; yasaka, her bedroom; now for kazakami, it was dive. opening the chapter with him pretending to be the main character was a very smart idea. that instantly broke the image we had of him, as this serious, ironical guy, specially after how ch 57 ended. now, we clearly see he’s just a boy with his own story and interests.

that brings the reader closer to kazakami (specially since us, the readers, also love anime and such lol). and she keeps on “showing, not telling” when she choses to show how kazakami is on school first to later expose his life at home.

that wall he build, that nonchalant attitude, it’s all a result of strict parents. it’s not that kazakami doesn’t want to be a normal teenager with interests: he was raised with the mindset of productive rather than pleasure. he was repressed into this box and feels guilty to break from it — by doing that, he’s afraid to sound ungrateful and selfish; that’s why he just swallows his food and accept his fate. the next day, a little more gasoline is added to the fuel. kanechika is the exact opposite of him, the perfect description of “freedom”.

but he also is someone who’s fighting for his dreams, someone who have his parents approval, someone who never let go of his interests and still have a bright future ahead of him. it’s frustrating for kazakami. he had to let go of everything in order to have the same future of the the “authentic” guy who never let go of anything. it’s a slap on the face, specially when kanechika holds dear the same thing as him: dive. the contrast between both characters is amazing and

i’m glad sensei chose to explore both at the same time. yes, we do focus more on kazakami, but we know a little about kanechika’s future and we also know a little more of his personality (i mean, he ran after kazakami just to talk about anime. he is observant, he can see that there is something more there). it’s a balance between narratives to maintain the equilibrium and use kanechika’s kindness as a way to tell more of kazakami’s backstory. but this is a conversation we will only continue when the next chapter is out…

thank you for reading it!! i’m sooo excited with what sensei have in store for us and can’t wait to discuss more with you guys

[overwatch]

I played D&D yesterday at a board game store and I am still a bit shook from it. This isn't a D&D horror story but there's a few things I need to vent about.

- the DM who we did not know handed us character sheets. Apparently this had been agreed with the guy from my group who was arranging everything but he forgot to tell everyone?

- I never related more to a drag queen who gets the role on a ruchallenge they hate. I was forced to play a low charisma wizard whose whole thing was being religious. I did rly good and moved the plot along despite this horrible character, I killed it.

- Anyway straight men are animals they immediately go "IM ROGUE" "IM BARBARIAN". They don't even read the character description or backstory. Or ask me and the other girl in the group if we wanted to read the roles first??

- nobody was doing character voice 🫠 "he says x" "he asks why"-- I interrupted the other players to speak like the characters and they were just stuborn. Especially the straight men they barely used dialogue they only wanted to fight?

- one of the things I HATED the most was that I got a crystal (important plot device) and one of the straights says a) he wants to break it. I start *discussing* with the group that I don't think that's a good choice. B) suddenly the guy says "I take the crystal from her and save it on my things."

????

- me and the group and still discussing what to do with the crystal but the guy decides he takes it and doesn't need to roll or interact/ask me. He then triggers a boss to appear who wants the crystal.

- Before we can discuss as a group why we should give him the crystal the same guy throws the crustal at the guy??

- The DM who had obviously put some effort into describing the boss and voice for the boss just goes ok. I guess he leaves with the crystal then.

- the same guy says he wants to fight the boss. Not for the crystal. Just because he wants ti fight.

- I see the horror flash on the DMs eyes. This is obviously a very high level boss to fight later in the campaign. He even goes "are you sure..?" I save it by saying no obviously not. We already lost the crystal let's not get killed too. Dm says "good choice".

- playing in a boardgame store is horrible. There's so much noise. I have adhd and oh my god. Also dm said something rly serious to my character and I couldn't understand him and didn't wanna ask him to repeat himself bc he did character voice and it was a tense moment.

- straight men's characters kept trying to "go investigate on their own". Boy we just started the campaign??? Maybe idk we should stick together. One of them kept "I go way ahead of them" or "I go way in the back". Which triggered events without us being there yet. At some point the DM ignored the guy and just spoke like he was there with us too.

- I was the only one (aside from dm) actually roleplaying and doing voices.

- one of the guys was mad the dm didn't let him use his own figure on the map even though it was three times the size of the figures the dm had for us.

- I am 100% sure the men were angry I was the hero of the battle we had. (It was bush like creatures and I used burning hands... They were all upset at the dm when the attacks they used barely did anything. And I mean actually arguing.

Anyway I just to take this out of my chest. They also kept asking for feedback/compliments on WhatsApp and I was nice and said I rly liked meeting with them and the dm was way better than I had imaged. And the guy that stole my crystal without asking and almost ruined the game an off comment about me being "uncomfortable" because I didn't join them for dinner after (worded like an accusation)? 🫠 And didn't even say anything about me carrying the game and helping him with his fuck ups. But ok.

[nyxthejinx]

ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅ 1 | ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴡᴀʟᴋ

Wowowow another short and cryptic chapter!! If it doesn't make sense it means it's working :) it will- in due time. For now I just wanna smooch my loves 😔

[ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ ] You're not part of the script, they must get rid of you. But will the Hunters become the hunted once your true nature is revealed?

[ ᴛᴡ ] talking about dying in the beginning with some graphic description (lots of nihilism on reader's part), generic description of blood, smoking, Kafka lil kissie mwah, lemme know if I'm forgetting anything (it's 5 am 🙃) finally baby Blade enters the scene!!!

[ ꜰᴛ. ] Kafka x GN!Reader x Blade

[ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ] 718

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ.

If it wore a sword’s, a knife’s or a gun’s clothes. If it appeared as a bottomless pit, staring at the depths of existence, or if it looks like the ground inching closer the more you lose altitude.

You think of sidereal space and the cold it harbours, of those fifteen to thirty seconds necessary to run out of oxygen, of those twelve to twenty-six hours it takes for the body heat to disperse, in the lack of atmosphere.

You imagine how it would be to be torn apart, choked, burned, have your flesh chewed to its bones. You imagine a pain that finally ceases, once the body has been slaughtered.

Going to sleep without the risk of waking up again: you project the image in your mind.

Before Kafka bursts your little bubble, dragging you back into the elevator.

“Your death will not be vain, Drifter. It serves for a greater cause."

She smiles in the corner of your eye, pristine and serene as if she wasn’t asking —ordering— you to die for her cause. Kafka is an amazing dancer when it comes to sticking to the choreography, lest the outcome steer away from what her master foresees.

No matter what it takes. Who it takes: the script has been set in stone already.

Too bad death is the last of your concerns, and so are her empty, poorly crafted words.

“I don’t really care.” You shrug.

Kafka’s brows shoot up in mild surprise, but she’s chuckling the next second already. Her eyes wrinkle at the sides, her shoulders shake gently— the radiant darkness of her soul glows brighter than ever and she’s just something else, straight out of this world.

“Are you mad at me?” She inquires, unfolding her arms to run a knuckle over your cheek.

Trying to process her words feels so impossible under her touch. Your feelings have long faded like cheap colours, brush strokes watered down by time, flowing into a grey puddle at your feet. There’s something stirring inside your chest, you know it- but how can you name it when your skin tingles and your knees go weak?

It’s not fair. But you lean in anyway, letting your eyes fall shut briefly. “Does it matter?”

“Not really, no.” She sighs. “Frilly words won’t change a thing, especially yours.”

“A kiss would, though.” You place a hand over hers, flutter your lashes gingerly. “I’d die with a silly grin on my face.”

“That can be arranged.”

Her smiling lips lock on yours, gentler than last time. There’s no love, no passion, no longing nor lust— it feels like a sorry kiss, a consolation prize, a sop to prevent rebellion. But it’s also one to be broken reluctantly, as both her hands drag you deeper by the jaw and trace your cheekbones with unexpected tenderness.

Maybe there was personal pleasure hiding behind her sense of duty, that night. But it ends all too soon and you will never tell.

Kafka leans back, cleaning the smeared gloss from the corner of your mouth. You glance at the panel in the elevator, see that you’ve almost reached the final destination.

If the Hunter is saddened, she doesn’t show it.

She's busier rummaging through the pocket of her coat now, as she pulls out a cigarette tin you know very well; it’s yours, just like the smoke she extends to your lips. You hold it gladly, waiting for her to light it.

“It wasn’t my choice.” Kafka whispers, voice delicate like the flame of your lighter.

Once the cigarette burns to life, you don't waste time— you inhale until your lungs are full of cloves with a hint of cinnamon, until it invades your senses and makes your mind dizzy in a way that never gets old. It tastes of memories you can’t remember, dreams yet to be dreamed, but most of all nostalgia you have no reason to experience.

"I know." You exhale eventually, as your shoulders sag. “Just remember me, even if it’s meaningless.”

Kafka smiles yet again, brushes your cheek as her other hand returns the two items to you. Inside the pocket above your heart.

And your lips quirk in the slightest, before the elevator stops at the floor where your blood will spill.

-

"Another one like you, Bladie." Kafka ponders, staring at the merging skin of your freshly wounded neck.

The puddle growing at your knees and the crimson path staining your clothes would convince anyone that a life was taken, today.

But the iridescent purples and blues lining your blood tell another story.

The story of someone who's walked across this universe for many years. Centuries, millenniums even.

Someone just like him.

Who Blade sees smiling at him, as if his sword wasn't dripping with their blood.

"Not yet, so it seems."

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

[cacoetheswriting]

pearl: may / june 1984

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.7k summary: eddie comes to terms with his feelings, pushing you away in the process.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, oblivious idiots in love, emotional hurt / comfort, self-doubt / insecurities, mentions of recreational drug use, physical violence / blood / description of injuries (eddie gets into a fight) - if i missed anything, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely, if at all, in the story.

pearl masterlist

“Are you decent? I’ve got something very important to discuss with you,” you call through Eddie’s bedroom door, hoping he can sense the urgency in your voice, then wait patiently for him to let you in. 

There’s shuffling inside, slight thuds and clattering of random objects, followed by Eddie cursing. A smirk escapes your lips as you picture him, hair wild, scrambling through his mess of a bedroom. When he eventually opens the door, he leans against the frame quite breathless.

“Hey, princess.”

“What the hell were you doing in here?” You ask with a raised brow and squeeze past him, ignoring the nickname he swore he’d never use again.

The metalhead nervously clears his throat, running a hand through his already messy curls. He closes the door slowly as your eyes dart across the space, landing on a stack of what you can only deduct to be pornographic magazines hastily hidden under his Hellfire t-shirt. Oh, you swallow your breath.

Hovering over the edge of his bed, not really wanting to sit as the realisation for his awkward behaviour dawns on you, you glance in your best friend's direction. It’s not like you’ve never talked about sex and stuff together, Eddie was your best friend after all and no topic was off the table. But the thought of you interrupting him mid… act, was frankly a little unsettling. Especially since lately, your stupid mind has been running wild when it came to Eddie. It felt a little pervy. And now you are doing your best to stop the not-so-speculatory image of what he was doing here just seconds ago from formulating in your brain.

The boy turns on his heel, facing you, and plasters a smile on his face, also trying to act as nonchalant as possible. 

“So, what brings you to my humble abode?” Eddie wonders, “What did you want to discuss with me?”

“Graduation,” you say simply, because a) there’s no point in beating around the bush any longer, and b) it seems much easier than having an awkward conversation around Eddie masturbating before you interfered.

Your best friend sighs and walks towards his desk, slumping down in the chair with a dramatic huff. There is a rather unsettling moment of silence during which Eddie reaches for a box with his stash and begins to roll a joint as you observe him closely.

“The actual thing is next Saturday afternoon, which you already know,” you eventually continue, fidgeting with the edge of your skirt, “And my parents want you and Wayne to come to dinner after. We’re just doing it at the house, it’s not going to be anything big so no need to fret.”

He stays silent, focused on what he’s doing.

You exhale softly.

“Then our summer of fun begins. You remember that silly bucket list we made when we first got high together? I’m thinking it could be fun to cross some things off of it before… you know…”

“Before you leave,” he finishes your sentence while looking up at you, a sad expression circling his features.

“Right,” you concur, “And that’s actually why I’m here.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s tense. He’s trying his best to hide it, but you can tell he’s on edge. Probably trying to anticipate what the next words to come out of your mouth will be. 

“Yeah. I wanted to ask if you’d be up for helping me move. We can have a little road trip, doesn’t that sound like fun?” The sound of your voice is hopeful. His response isn’t quite what you had expected though.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, princess.”

“Why?” You probe, stringing your brows together.

Eddie exhales.

He usually doesn’t think before he speaks, but this time it seems important that he does. He’s sure he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings with the way he phrases his explanation ‘cause that would be even worse than saying no to you.

And while he’s thinking, you’re borderline bouncing in your spot with anticipation.

“Because saying goodbye to you is going to be hard enough,” Eddie finally admits, “I don’t think I can handle leaving you in the place you’re going to call home for the next four years and then drive back to Hawkins all by myself.” 

Your face falls. He’s quick to notice your reaction because he drops the half-finished joint and pushes the chair in your direction. He stands and rests his hands on your shoulders, but dips his head slightly so that the two of you would be at the same eye level.

“Look, I know it’s selfish of me—”

“No, no,” you interrupt, hands reaching for where he’s holding you, “I get it. Don’t worry about it.”

You're disappointed. He’s upset. Totally not how you saw this conversation going. 

The last couple of weeks have been hard enough as the two of you navigated around the topic of your impending departure and you were foolish enough to think him being the one to see you last, help you get settled and maybe even stay with you a couple of days, would be a good idea. A way of making things a little more normal.

Eddie gently grabs your chin, essentially forcing you to meet his pretty perfect chocolate gaze. And you're desperately trying not to show how much all of this is affecting you. Honestly, you're just trying not to cry, hating the effect his doe-eyes have on you, but the metalhead makes it just that little bit tougher when he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours and sighing softly.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his breath hitting against your skin, “You deserve better.”

You shake your head against him and brush some of the loose brown curls behind his ear before placing the palm of your hand against his cheek. Eddie leans into your touch instinctively, feeling better if only for a split-second. He continues to stare at you, waiting for you to say whatever it is that got you to shake your head, but you stay silent. 

For the longest time, you simply look at him like you want to say something, anything to make both of you feel better, but you can’t seem to find the right words. He’s none the wiser either. The only thing that springs to mind is a sentence that is bound to make the situation worse: “Don’t leave me, princess.”.

And then you know. A timid smile circling your lips as you pull away slightly, reaching for his hands ‘cause that’s exactly how friends behave, right?

“Through all kinds of weather, through everything we done,” your voice is a mere whisper and for a split-second, you're not even sure Eddie hears you.

Then he huffs out a laugh. He knows exactly what you're quoting.

“Are you trying to say I’m your Bobby McGee?”

“Perhaps.”

The metalhead chuckles. His arm makes way around your neck and he pulls you into a warm embrace. You instantly bury your face in his dark locks, inhaling the smell of his cheap shampoo. And for a moment, all is good in the world. Until Eddie does something unexpected. He places a quick yet tender kiss onto your shoulder and the feeling of his lips on your skin sends a shiver down your spine. 

Unexpectedly, a large part of you is hoping he’d do that again, perhaps do something more, but you bite the inside of your cheek, forcing the thoughts to dissipate ‘cause this wasn’t the time or place to explore the sudden tingle you felt as his lips brushed against your skin.

Although, as always, Eddie makes things difficult.

“You know the lyrics insinuate the protagonists of the song were lovers,” he teases while pulling away from your hug. He reaches for the joint he was working on moments before and continues, “Do you think of me as your lover, princess? Can’t say I wasn’t expecting this turn of events and I also can't say I’m not flattered.”

You roll your eyes, giggling. 

“The nudie magazines aren’t doin’ it for you anymore, hot shot?”

His gaze follows yours to the stack you noticed earlier and his face flushes red as you continue to laugh light-heartedly.

“Well, nothing beats human contact, princess.” Eddie tries to brush off your comment while also taking control of the conversation and extends his arm into your field of vision. “Lick this for me, why don’t ya.”

You oblige him although hesitantly. Partially because you're a little intimidated by the way he’s looking at you now, an inkling in his eyes that you haven’t seen before — the pretty brown now darker around the edges. However, mainly because recently there’s something about him asking to lick down the paper of a joint you're going to share together that makes your stomach flutter and you’re certain that’s not a good sign.

And every time you do this, you can feel Eddie watching your every move. Watching as your tongue slides along the thin card, fingers brushing against his and zapping him with such intensity he swears he could survive being electrocuted, (if that ever happened). Totally platonic behaviour.

But it’s not though. He knows that, even if unfortunately you’re currently none the wiser. And Eddie feels wrong for manipulating situations, making them end up in his favour. He just can’t help himself because at the end of the day, it’s easier than admitting how his feelings towards you have changed over the last number of weeks.

He once again thinks you deserve better, though this time, already knowing the outcome, he doesn’t say the words out loud. Instead, as you pull back and sit on the edge of his bed, eyes never leaving him for a second, he offers you a smile.

“I hope you know I’ll always be your Bobby,” Eddie says while delicately rolling over the thin paper, “Even if you make other friends in college and forget all about me, I’ll always be your Bobby.”

He means it. You can tell.

“I could never forget about you, Eds.”

You mean it. He can tell.

-

Unfortunately, at some point in time between that one afternoon in May and the graduation which he only got to attend as a guest, Eddie started to spiral. Even worse, he began to neglect his friendship with you, mere days after promising he was always going to be there for you.

And at some point in time between him rejecting your road trip offer and the graduation dinner he dipped from early, without saying goodbye, you stopped trying to figure out why. 

Not like Eddie could blame you. He was acting pretty lousy for someone that was supposed to be your best friend. Which, if he was being honest with himself, that was precisely the issue. Between the end of May and beginning of June, Eddie realised he perhaps didn’t want to be that anymore. Perhaps, he wanted more. He just knew he couldn’t have more. For one, saying anything to you now would be seriously bad timing and also have potentially terrible consequences. So instead, he distanced himself like a jackass. 

Days without contact. The longest of his life. And Eddie thought the pattern of avoidance would continue for the remainder of the summer. That was until he overheard some lousy jock talking about a date he went on with the girl of his dreams, jealousy ignited itself inside him and he couldn’t just stand on the sidelines anymore.

Normally, Eddie wasn’t one for physical confrontation with Hawkins’ most popular, but the dude was being all sorts of crude and misogynistic. Talking about how dope you looked in the mini skirt you apparently wore, and how he really just wanted to take you down to Lovers Lake and— Well, the rest doesn’t really matter. The guy didn’t get to utter the words anyway because Eddie's fist collided with his face in a flash. 

3 against 1. An unfair fight, if you asked for the metalhead’s opinion.

There was swelling above Eddie's right eye and his nose was most likely broken. Clothes ripped and torn in various places, knuckles bruised. His side hurt, as did his abdomen. Blood was slowly dripping down his face. In short, he was a gory mess.

“Hey,” Eddie manages to mumble as you open your front door. 

A gasp escapes your lips, undoubtedly at the sight before you, but also ‘cause the metalhead stumbles forwards, falling into your arms and you barely manage to support his body weight.

One arm made its way around the curly-haired teen and he winced in pain. You guide him to the couch and help him sit before disappearing without a single word. While you're gone, Eddie slowly takes off his vest and jacket, throwing them to the side while doing his best to contain the groans that formed at the back of his throat.

Within a few minutes, you're back by his side with a first aid kit. You remain silent, avoiding his wandering gaze. Instead, with a rather shaky hand, you proceed to wipe his face and Eddie's eyeing you from under his locks, heart hammering inside his chest since this is the first time you have seen each other in over a week and it’s clearly not under the best of circumstances.

The bleeding had slowed to barely a trickle. You disregard the cloth and finally meet his gaze.

“What the hell happened, Eddie?”

He sighs but can’t seem to come up with a coherent answer. When after a moment he doesn't say anything, you grab the distilled water. 

“This is going to sting,” you warn and begin to gently dab around his eye. Eddie could feel the swelling had only gotten worse and judging by the concerned look on your face, he knew it was an inevitable black eye. Not to mention his nose and the other parts of his body that throbbed in pain.

“I should probably take you to the hospital.”

Chewing down on your bottom lip, you lightly brush the loose strands of his hair away from his face, the pieces which aren't stuck to his skin due to the blood anyway. Eddie doesn't really think, just grabs your hands and kisses your fingers.

“I’m sorry, princess.”

“Don’t be sorry. Tell me what happened.”

“I’m not proud of it.” 

You exhale, freeing yourself from his grasp, and Eddie's frozen in place, instantly missing the feeling of your soft skin against his lips. He swears they’re on fire, not from being battered and bruised, but from the delicate sensation that were the kisses he just placed along your joints.

“Did I do something wrong?”

That’s when he’s forced to discard his current thoughts, eyes jolting from the ground to meet yours once again. You stand, flattening your top before nervously crossing and uncrossing your arms, waiting for him to answer and hoping he wasn’t going to break your heart — which was already aching from his lack of contact over the last week.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve just been so distant, not acting like yourself, and the only rational explanation is that I did something to upset you.”

Eddie's on his feet in a flash. He rests the palms of his hands on your shoulders and dip his head, forcing you to continue holding his gaze.

“This is all on me, princess. I’ve just had a lot on my mind and I don’t really know how to talk to you about it so I—. Look, those assholes today were asking for it. That’s all.”

He half expects you to say something along the lines of: “But we talk about everything.”. You don't and he's grateful, not ready to tell you how he’s been feeling about you. Instead, you reach out to hold his face then force a weak smile.

“Blood looks good on you,” you tease to lighten the mood and Eddie's heart does a somersault. “Just do me a favour and don’t get into any more fights this summer, okay? I don’t want to spend my last few weeks with you constantly visiting the E.R.”

He chuckles. “Promise, princess.”

“Good,” you say and drop your hold on him. “Now let me grab your jacket and let’s go to the hospital. I definitely think your nose is broken and judging by the way you winced earlier, we should also ask the doctors to check if your ribs are intact.”

“At least we can listen to Pearl in the car.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at him, though unable to conceal a smile.

Eddie’s grinning now. “But you love me.”

pearl masterlist

& tagging some cool people that expressed interest in a part two / this lil series: @cactusangie , @spenciesprincess , @capitanostella

[biceratops7]

Good omens leak talk under cut, literally just vivid descriptions, keep away unless you’ve seen it and it’s too late:

Ok I have literally been staring at that image periodically whenever I think about it for several days. Because I am normal and like things neurotypically. So here’s literally just a big list of observations no matter how minute. If you read this whole thing then the brain worms have made it to your prefrontal cortex.

Crowley has his glasses on (already explained my theory behind that)

Crowley is obviously the instigator but it’s unclear whether or not Azirphale is currently an active participant, or if he’s still processing. I’m leaning on still processing, but it’s hard to tell with the shadow on his brow obscuring his expression and not being able to see his hands

Speaking of that shadow, what the hell is up with the lighting in this scene?? It’s not bad except for making things in an already blurry still unclear, it’s just strange to have something softly back lit but also clearing having another additional light source else where. It’s an interesting choice because it can lead to inference of the circumstances here.

Second, related question: where the hell are they?? So let’s just take stock of everything BUT Azirphale and Crowley we see here. First of all it’s mostly in shadow, however there is a prominent light source behind Aziraphale, possibly close to him. The light we see on Crowley’s hair is likely from the doorway behind them.

Quick detour, the doorway is the brightest thing in the frame, creating a slight silhouette effect. Silhouettes are often used in film for moments that are a big deal but visually obvious. It shows weight through simplicity because you still know what’s happening and why it’s important with way less visual info than normal. We all IMMEDIATELY recognized what was happening and lost our shits even though it’s in shadow and currently obscured by giant text.

Ok so anyway this all leads me to believe they’re in a mostly dark room with one bright but not very far reaching light. I wanna say it’s almost fluorescent? Or an exposed lightbulb? It certainly doesn’t look warm like a lamp to me.

In addition I believe they’re inside a room to a larger building. The light coming from the door is almost certainly NOT day light. It’s purely white as if it’s a very well lit room or hall. There also is what I think looks like an exit sign near the top next to the doorway, or at least idk what else it could be. Because of that I don’t think this is anyone’s home or small shop.

I find this EXTREMELY interesting because the only prominent location we really see fit that vibe or description is the office building of heaven and hell. This season seems to be particularly highlighting that “neutral ground” between then, with the elevator showing up three times.

Now this one is just me trying to interpret literal blobs, but there either appears to be some sort of rounded extension to the top of the door way, or the walls are just thick. Make of that what you will

the room appears relatively spacious but mostly bare, almost like a holding place. But obviously with such a tight frame this can be hard to tell. I did take note of the fact that you can see some brown lines behind Aziraphale in the first frame, so there is clearly something there.

Alright enough waxing poetry about the damn walls, I know that they're probably standing up. Crowley might be in a position where he can twist into it from a sitting position, but with Aziraphale' shoulders so far forward and his back entirely angled to face Crowley, he'd either have to be straddling a chair or his lower spine is snapping like a glowstick.

Aziraphale is not being pushed against anything, he’s rocking backwards despite the force being applied to pull him forward, so in other words our boy Crowley’s REALLY shooting his shot, lmao

Aziraphale’s arms are confusing. They’re clearly not holding onto Crowley even out of frame, but they also don’t seem fully relaxed at his sides to me either.

WAIT, ok so the standing is still a strong contender, but they could also be sitting across from eachother at a small table. Crowley seems hunched over a bit more than is warranted for Aziraphale’s height, and Aziraphale’s arms could propped up at the elbows supporting his weight.

So damnit this adds a whole new layer to the location question

[phoenixyfriend]

I know I'm a nerd because the amount of time I've spent obsessing over the Vojvodina dress is. Way too much.

This dress doesn't actually have a name (probably), but it's from late 19th century Vojvodina, and I kind of obsessed over it when I was at the Serbian Ethnographic Museum in Belgrade (main site is available only in Serbian).

(Unfortunately, I'm trying to work within the tumblr image limit, but here's a google drive!)

BTW, if you enjoy this post, please consider leaving a tip! I spent more time than is reasonable putting this together.

Also, due to tumblr being Odd, you may want to open this in a new tab to avoid having the posts expand to full; the dashboard view only lets there be one image per line, for some reason. If you open in a new tab, they are much more neatly organized into sets, and quicker to scroll past.

Due to the fact that I can't really describe these photos in a way that means anything to readers unless they have a large technical vocabulary or background in Balkan fashion history, and there being so many pictures, I will not be including image descriptions. However, my commentary on those photos throughout the latter half of the post should hopefully give you a solid summary on what the photos contain, even if it's not going into details for most.

Here is the general shape of what you see in 19th century Serbia (incl. Kosovo), Montenegro, Bosnia&Herzegovina, and Croatia:

You can see a few throughlines, even with the variety from one region to the next. Certain types of fabric are more common, especially that heavy plain-weave white fiber (I think usually cotton, nowadays, but probably historically flax) with the small knots; my grandmother's apartment is still stocked with that as the default bed linen! You see it all through the exhibit, most frequently in the skirts, but often for blouses or chemises, too.

There are a lot of hand-woven fabrics, which you can see on display best with the aprons, and a very specific style of applique trimmings on the cropped vest. The arm's eyes and necklines have similar proportions. The lengths are similar. Most things are cut on the rectangular, or not cut at all. Hems are often tassled, for complex weaves, or simply folded under for the white base fabrics; plain, non-white fabrics tend to get a textured applique at the hems. Lace is usually eyelet.

There are exceptions, of course. I'd love to know more about that mint green cardigan(?) from Montenegro, with the gored pieces. I think it's made of doeskin (the tight wool weave, not the leather), and I wish I could get more information on the history. Most of the larger green dyes, not counting floral motifs or minor elements of a multicolored weave, are from the Bosnian section of the display (wide stripes along the collar, for instance), presumably due to Ottoman influence leaving a large Muslim population. And then there's this mint green cardigan from Montenegro made of a fabric I'm not seeing on any other garments? Tell me more, please.

(Also, in the close-ups, you can see that the hook and eye closure has released rust stains onto the blouse!)

There are so many more pictures, but unfortunately, I have a thirty-image max and really want to talk about this one specific dress:

The image description on the floor below describes this as:

Woman's festive dress with a zlatara cap, Banat, Vojvodina, late 19th century

(I have minimal commentary on the hat. It's a traditionally Serbian vestment, but there's nothing too unusual about it.)

So, here are a few things to note at first glance:

The arm's eye on the vest is wide. It dips further in towards the neck than most vests, and swoops further down towards the ribs. Most of the traditional vests have a much tighter arm's eye.

Relatedly, the straps are much thinner than most of the vests, maybe half as wide. This is partly the arm's eye, and partly the width of the neckline to start!

The vest comes down in a slightly pointed oval ending at the swell of the bust, rather than curving back up or being a rounded shape a few inches higher. It's also finished with these little satin triangles?

The vest is laced at front, rather than hook and eye closure.

The bottom edge has tabs!

The hems on those tabs are chain stitched in yellow, and then the hem is wrapped in a thin orange ribbon that I would hesitantly say is satin? Plus all the other yellow embroidery, which to my eye looks really different from the embroidery you see on various aprons, and also different from the metallic appliques you see on most vests!

That bottom edge also appears to be straight across (most of the vests curve up slightly at front), and is very tight to the body. While some of the vests are tight, those are generally the shorter ones. Longer vests are much looser than this one, which cuts off and cinches at the waist, right where it meets the skirt.

The fabric itself! I'll get back to this but it seems to be a satin jacquard??? A jacquard that matches (in thread, not in pattern) to the skirt? Insane.

[Disclaimer: Some of these deviations, such as the arm's eye size or the dropped shoulder hem, could be a matter of the mannequin being the wrong size for the clothing. Unfortunately, I don't have enough background information to be sure. It could be just the right size. It could be far too small. I only have these photos and the most basic of background information to go off of.]

Okay moving on to the blouse:

It's not completely unique to be sheer, but it's definitely uncommon!

The chest is not pintucked or a flat weave, but rather the sheer fabric has thin stripes of more opaque weave? I don't actually remember what that's called but it's definitely cool to see.

We also see a net lace at the cuffs, which is similarly uncommon; most of the fashions I saw had eyelet lace instead (which we can see at the collar of the blouse).

The dropped shoulder! The shoulder seam sits much higher on most of the pieces I saw (there are a few exceptions, but mostly from regions nearby). In fact, most of the examples had the shoulder seam hidden, between the higher seam and the width of the vest; it's both the dropped seam and the thin straps of the vest that let us see this here!

That metallic embroidery. Again, most of the embroidery we see on the other pieces is cross stitch or done with a much thicker thread; sometimes, you get lineart, but not filled in in this manner. This kind of thin-thread embroidery that fills the space between the lines isn't common in the other pieces!

I don't think I can actually say much about the sleeve length? I feel like most of the pieces have sleeves that are full or bracelet length, while this one is a three-quarter, but I'm not 100% on that actually being true. It's a bit hard to tell in some cases. Might just be summer clothes?

The skirt:

SATIN JACQUARD

BOX PLEATS

SLIGHT OVAL HEM

SATIN RIBBON TRIM

I'm gonna be honest this was a huge part of why I began to obsess over this dress let me just. Whoo!

This fabric is, as far as I can tell, a satin jacquard, very probably machine-woven. It is very different from basically every other fabric we see in this exhibit. This is not a plain weave, and it is not a hand-woven design. This is a meticulously, mechanically repetitive pattern done using satin-weave manipulation to adjust which sections have shine and which don't. Given the time period, it's probably silk. (Take a look at this portion of a video on silk by Nicole Rudolph to understand what I mean by jacquard. If you want to know more about satin weave, you can watch the full video.)

I'd guess that the vest is made of the same type of fabric, even the same threads, just in a different pattern.

The pleating! If you take a look at the other photos, the general pattern is 'put together some rectangles, gather at top, and you have a dress. Cover with a hand-woven apron in front and possibly in back.' There are, again, some exceptions, but this dress has both the box pleating and the satin jacquard. The structure of this skirt is completely different from 90% of this exhibit.

In conjunction with the pleating, the skirt had a very slight oval shape around the bottom. I didn't get a good photo of that part, but it's typical of 1890s dresses in Western Europe to have a sort of egg-shaped hem if you look at them from above, through use of pleating, strategic panel shapes, and bum pads or petticoats. In short, the dress is just slightly longer at back without being a full-on train. Most of the other pieces, due to the rectangles and gathers, are a much simpler circle shape around bottom.

Length! Part of why the egg-shaped hem is happening is because this dress actually brushes the floor. Ankle-length is the default across the exhibit, even for formal wear.

Simple satin ribbons for decorative trim, rather than something textured, shaped, or multicolor!

Then, the actual hem of the skirt: a center-pleated green ribbon. This is, again, really different from most of the hems. Most of the skirts don't reach the ground, and aren't made of a fancy fabric. Those white dresses/skirts that form the base of most looks are easily washed and have hems that don't drag on the ground. If they aren't left to just the selvage, they're very simply hemmed; I think what I saw most frequently was a double-folded hem. The pieces that have more decorative hems, like blouses and vests and aprons, aren't pieces that get the same form of wear. However, since this dress does reach the ground, it needs a centimeter or so of additional fabric to take some of that wear to protect the fancier skirt fabric, like hem braid, which the easily-replaced ribbon could conceal for this skirt since it's a festival item.

I think that might also be part of why there's a seam about twenty centimeters up from the bottom edge; it's a replaceable section in case it needs replacement, or the seam is for a protective layer inside. However, it could also be a seam used for a stiff inner lining meant to help the skirt flare out just a touch, like this.

Now, finally, why is all this even a thing, and why do I care?

Vojvodina, the region this outfit is from, was under Austro-Hungarian control during the latter half of the 19th century; whether it was officially Hungarian, Austrian, or both changed from one decade to the next, but it was definitely under that sphere of influence for a very long time. Despite this, it was and is culturally Serbian, and is majority Serbian in terms of population; it was even back then! However, the 19th century saw a large number of ethnic Hungarians and ethnic Germans in the region as well, and the cultural impact from Vienna was not to be underestimated.

This dress is a great example of how a culturally Serbian individual would have clothing that integrated those foreign influences. For most of the Balkans, the greatest influence was the Ottomans, due to five centuries of imperial rule, but this dress is a great contrast due to Hungarian occupation, and then Austrian. It contains elements of the culture that birthed it, yes, but the influence of the West is so very, very clear.

(I wish I could talk more about the Pannonian elements in general, but I'm still learning.)

I hope you enjoyed this rambling deep dive into a single outfit from the Serbian Ethnographic Museum. Visit it if you get a chance!

And if you've read this whole thing and feel like dropping a tip, you can do so on this blog, post, or over on ko-fi. You could even join my Patreon!

[jinkookspencil]

a better grip | kim seokjin

seokjin knew you were insecure about your stomach, but he has a confession regarding something he wanted to try in bed….. 

Description/TW: ~1.6k words / Seokjin x Reader (F) / Smut / Established relationship / Chubby Reader / OC or YN is insecure about her stomach (but teaser: Jin likes it). Again, nothing wrong with having a stomach or belly - this is for my fellow curvy girls! (but non-curvy girls can read and enjoy too, even straight-sized women can have bellies!)  / this is another one of those fics where I have a half-written, similar jk version in my drafts but finished the seokjin one first... / this is my first time writing smut like this, it's more graphic than my previous one so... i hope it's alright

“Think we can go for another round?”, Seokjin laughs as he heaves, laying naked on the bed beside you. 

He looked so handsome just laying there in his most natural state, even while he was sweaty and flushed. 

“You look so hot so yes, I’d want to” you say jokingly as you face him, propping yourself up on your elbow while letting your other hand feel his chest. “Unless you’re tired?,” you ask.

He turns to face you with a hint of a smile, and stares right into your eyes. “No. No, I’m not tired,” he whispers before leaning forwards to kiss you, and you catch his eyes skim over your body as he pulls away. 

“You know… you don’t need to cover up, my love. I want to see all of you,” he whispers, mere inches away from your face, his fingers caressing your cheek. 

Seokjin had been referring to the silk babydoll you wore with a low, low neckline, that mainly served to cover your belly. 

You had expressed your insecurities regarding your body image to Seokjin in the past. You had heard countless times that women shouldn’t express those feelings to their romantic partners and feign confidence instead - since confidence will always follow once you fake it - but you couldn’t lie to Seokjin. You didn’t believe in fakeness, especially when it came to the person you had to be closest to, and he saw right through you anyway. He made an effort to compliment you often and you never doubted he actually meant the words he said.. But he also understood that everyone had their own insecurities, and had always been mindful and respectful when you said you wouldn’t feel comfortable showing your entire body when you first started sleeping together. So, you always insisted on wearing something to cover your stomach - whether it was lingerie, a tank top, one of your pyjama tops or one of his - you had yet to have sex entirely naked. If you ever had spontaneous sex and seemingly no other choice but to get naked, you’d go so far as to make Seokjin take off his shirt for you to wear, or use something else to cover your stomach like a pillow, a towel, or even once - Seokjin’s trousers when you didn't have anything else. Luckily, there were lingerie that helped accommodate your needs as well as his - you tried to make sure he had access to your boobs, for his sake. All this time later you had to admit that the fabrics got in the way a couple of times, but Seokjin never said anything about it... until now.

“Seokjin, I’m just.. You know I don’t like my belly. I - I don’t want you to see it and get turned off and want to stop.. or..” you’re unable to finish your sentence before Jin interrupts you. 

“You know I’ve already seen your stomach, right? Your cute little dresses and tops always ride up at night and barely cover anything. And that one time you took a nap between rounds, you kicked off the blanket and practically lay on me completely naked. I was happy. I would never get turned off, and it’s not that I don’t care….” he pauses for a moment. “It was sexy. I love your body…a lot. I... I was turned on even more.”

“You...No don't... No, you weren't," you mumble, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you sit up and look away. Seokjin's fingers stroke your arm before lightly tracing the straps and lining of the babydoll on your body, finally resting on your back.

“You were sexy. I’m sorry, but I was happy to see you naked. And I like your tummy,” he admits in a serious tone, looking up at you.

While you were too stunned to speak, Seokjin gets on his knees on the bed, bringing his fingertips to your chin.

“Let me show you. Trust me. If you’re so uncomfortable, just say so, but let me try something first?”

You had never been vulnerable or close to someone as you had been with him. The thought of giving yourself to Seokjin as you are never scared you when it came to who you were as a person, but when it came to your body…. You had always been frightened. But now, being here with Seokjin and him telling you it’s a safe space to do so… And that he liked it…. It was reassuring. You don’t know what Seokjin has in mind, but you do know that you trust him. 

“O..okay..”, you whisper. 

He smiles before he bows down to kiss you, and the kiss lasts so long that you almost forget about your previous conversation. Just as your chest relaxes against his, he swiftly lifts the babydoll over your head and discards it across the room. Immediately finding your pull on the blanket in an effort to hide your body, his fingers intertwine with yours, loosening your grip until it falls away and your holding onto him instead. He places his other hand on your belly, his touch warm against your exposed skin, softly tracing your curves from hip to hip before suddenly squishing your stomach, causing you to squirm. 

If it weren’t for Seokjin’s delicate touch, the sensation would’ve thrown you off - it’s an action no one has ever done in the past. Instead, his touch sends vibrations that travel all over your body. It’s ticklish. It’s new. It’s weird. It’s….comforting. A sign of love. Just before you wonder if it’s sexy, Seokjin proves it to you by squishing your hips and pulling you even closer to him. 

You let out a gasp into Seokjin’s mouth, breaking your kiss, but he doesn’t give you a break. You both moan as he continues kissing down your neck, shoulder, and chest, and his hands move to your bum as he guides your back onto the bed. He continues kissing your body as he hovers over you, his legs between yours, slowly making his way downwards. A hand fondles your breast as he kisses the other before getting to your stomach. You breathe heavily as Seokjin peppers it entirely with kisses, your wince slowly fading every time you feel his lips. Soon, it's hard not to relax as Seokjin continues… every inch of your torso has been touched by his lips, his hands, and the softness of his breath. Your fingers find his hair, grabbing and tousling it as he kisses your body, alerting Seokjin to your changed disposition and your arousal. His kisses and moans grow more intense, indicating that he’s feeling the same way. He repeats the same actions over and over again until he reaches your pubic area, and you spread your legs a tad wider in response. 

To your surprise, Seokjin suddenly stops and moves back up, kissing your shoulder a number of times before facing you. 

“Look,” he starts between heavy breaths and pants in sync with yours. “I always… I always wanted to try something.”

He faces away as his face gets even redder. 

“But I know I need to ask your permission first. If you don’t want me to do it, I won’t.”

“What is it?”, you quickly ask. 

“I -…. I want to go down on you while grabbing onto your stomach,” he finally confesses. 

“Are you serious?!”, you exclaim. 

“Listen, I’ve always dreamt of it,” he breathes. “Your thighs are lovely but… I think the grip will be nice.”

His sweat drops onto your chest. 

“Fuck…” he sighs. “I don’t want to ruin the moment so… so just tell me if you don’t want me to so that we can continue. We can talk about it later….”

He obviously didn’t hate your body, his lips barely left it tonight…. If he’s always dreamt of it…

You slowly nod. 

“Yeah?” he asks in a panic.

“Yeah. Go ahead….” you whisper. 

“No fucking way,” he lets out as he kisses you. “Fuck, yes. I’ll make you feel good, baby. I'll make you feel as beautiful as you are. And if you want me to stop at any time, you know the safe word. Or just tap me three times if I miss it.”

You nod, and, kissing you again, he says “I love you so much”. 

Before assuming his position between your legs, Seokjin hungrily kisses your stomach, even surprising you by biting it and licking it afterwards.. Soon he gets to your pubic area once again and immediately wraps his arms around your legs. 

His lips soon finds your area, and as you relish in the sensations his tongue makes you feel, he grabs your stomach. 

“F- fuck,”, he lets out, his lips wet. “This is good. This is so good. Are you okay?” 

You don’t know how to answer the question, but you know you must immediately, between your moans and gasps. Sure, he was just squeezing your belly, but for the body part you were most insecure about to arouse him further in the heat of the moment? The feeling that it and your body are helping Seokjin feel pleasured? Fuck, you felt good and turned on too. 

“Yes,” you let out as a whine. “So good, Seokjin….C- continue.”

Seokjin doesn’t need any more instructions, his grip on your stomach getting firmer and his mouth getting hungrier before your body surrenders to him. He finishes shortly after you do, on your stomach no less, and he lays down beside you after cleaning you both up.

You still hadn’t said a word to each other besides moaning out each other’s names.

“Seokjin… thank you,” you whisper, facing him once your breathing returns back to normal. 

“You fulfilled one of my fantasies and you’re thanking me?” he smiles. “Thank you.”

“No, I mean I gave you my body and trusted you with it, and… you embraced it. It just means a lot to me, so thank you,” you say as you pull his lips to yours, tasting a tear you hadn’t realized you let out. 

“I don’t just embrace it or accept you or your body, honey, I love you. All of you. And it was..,” his voice trails off as his eyes roll around happily, “….better than I ever imagined. It was a better, soft grip.”

You smile and kiss him once again, but you break it apart when Seokjin suddenly squeezes your belly again. 

“Please let me do it again in the future,” he whimpers. 

“It’ll take some getting used to,” you giggle as you reach for his hand and place it on your stomach, “but it’s yours.”

Seokjin smiled widely and let out a quiet cheer before he moved towards your stomach and kissed it a few more times, making you giggle. 

You loved all of him. 

And he loved all of you….