#felt like clearing up my drafts and saw this and remembered that I should post it soon

[macabreblublu]

Long time hyperfixations are coming back

And guess what that is?

Yes, non-humans again

Specifically Aliens

Yautjas :)))

Also that pic above is nice but that didn’t do it justice

Lemme just

Good good, but needs a lil close up

Ok I couldn’t find perfect photos but basically I just wanna see these beautiful hunks😩👌🏼

*me checking off Yautja on my hyperfixation list

Anyways yeah, art for these dudes are coming-

[col-islander43]

Jersey

Jamie Drysdale x reader

Warnings: swearing

Word count: {1,226}

You heard the door shut, followed by soft footsteps a few minutes later. Your heart sped up a bit as Jamie stopped next to the couch, and you had to stop yourself from moving away as he bent down to kiss your forehead, whispering a soft greeting. You saw his finger point to the jersey on your lap, his head tilting in confusion "What's that?"

You didn't want to start a discussion or a fight, but it felt inevitable "Your jersey. The one you gave me, from the draft." Your voice was barely above a whisper because it was the only thing keeping your tears at bay.

Concern took over his face before questions started pouring out of his mouth "Why are you glaring at it? Did something happen? Are you ok?" Most of the time, you felt glad he could read you easily since you struggled with opening up, but, at this moment, you hated it because you felt like your reason for being upset was stupid, more than before. You weren't expecting all the questions, and you also didn't know how to answer all of them without breaking down.

"You're a real asshole, you know?" the crack in your voice slipped through, you tried to stop it, but you didn't have the energy to. You looked at the picture frame over his shoulder to avoid his gaze, but you could still see the frown taking over his face.

"Not the first time someone has told me, but I don't know what I did to deserve it now." His frown deepened while you looked down at your hands in your lap, twisting your thumbs around one another.

"I got a dm from your ex today, she replied to something I posted, your jersey was hanging in the back of the picture. She told me she used to love it too then she told me to look at her post from 2020. I did, and I have to say she looked good in it, she looks better in black than I do."

You stood up and threw the jersey at him before walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water for your dry throat, hoping it would wash away the lump that had formed. He followed after you but stayed quiet "Maybe you should give it back to her since it was hers first." Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shaking his head, but you didn't turn around because the first tear had fallen and you didn't want him to see.

"Babe-"

One word was all it took for anger to join your pain "Don't! Do you know how much it hurt to see that picture? Any idea how I used I feel? The minute I saw that picture I started spiraling, I started overthinking everything you ever told me when I while wearing that jersey and all the moments we had while I was wearing it. Do you remember the things you told me? Because I remember all of it. Did you even mean them? Or was it just to sweet-talk me? Did the moments ever mean anything at all?" Anger and pain were clouding your mind, deep down you knew you'd regret all your words later. Just like you always did.

He dropped the jersey, the fabric making a soft thud on the floor. You could feel his hands shake as he cupped your cheeks, using his thumbs to whip away the tears that had fallen during your outburst. "I didn't mean to… It wasn't my intention to hurt you, I promise. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I'm sorry for making you spiral, and I'm sorry for making you feel used. You have to believe me, love. I promise I didn't mean to." He placed his forehead on yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut to stop the tears, but it wasn't working because his words were hitting you deeply.

"I remember everything I told you. I meant it when I told you it was special like you, I meant it when I said you looked beautiful in it, I meant it when we were laying in bed, and I told you the name on the back of it would be yours one day. I swear I meant every single word. And those moments, they're engraved in my brain. Even if I tried to forget, I don't think I ever could." his thumbs resumed caressing your cheeks and you opened your eyes, seeing his teary eyes.

Clearing your throat, the words tumbled out of your mouth with sobs wracking your body as it decided it was ok to let go "I- When I saw that picture I wasn't angry, I was confused. I thought she was lying, but stupid me did the math with everything you told me then I felt used. I think I felt like that because with the dates it seemed like you were trying to make her jealous by giving it to me, and I remember you posting me in it on your story a couple of days after you gave-"

He softly placed his lips on yours, stopping your rambling "You don't have to explain yourself to me, I understand, love. Your feelings are valid, but I promise it wasn't my intention to make you feel like that. I gave you the jersey because I thought you would've liked it. It's special to me, and so are you. I gave it to you so you could feel how special you are to me. She didn't cross my mind once, not when I gave it to you and not when I see you wear it."

You nodded, placing a peck on his lips "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you an asshole."

Jamie chuckled "No, you had every right. I didn't mind. I understand where you're coming from." he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his arms, squeezing me tightly "Just so you know, I never gave it to her. She took it from my closet while I was on a roadie, and I didn't want to come of as a dick by asking it back."

A giggle left your lips as you softly started swaying back and forth "You could never be a dick, an asshole, maybe, but not a dick." he responded to your teasing by pinching your waist, which resulted in a yelp leaving your lips.

"I know she broke your heart, but I'm glad she did because I never would've met you if she didn't and you're everything I've ever wanted."

You heard a sniffle coming from where he had his head placed on your shoulder, trying to quiet it, but it didn't work "Are you crying J?"

"No."

You pulled his head away, playing with his hair to calm him down as you had no idea why he was crying "Liar. Why are you crying, love?"

He placed his head back in his favorite resting place, kissing your exposed skin "I love you so fucking much."

With one hand playing with his hair, you lifted the other to rub his back since you felt more tears falling on your shoulder "I love you too. So fucking much."

"I could marry you right now." His whispering was useless as you heard his words loud and clear

"What?!"

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

First time posting, hope you guys enjoy!

Feedback is appreciated as I don't know what I'm doing 🤗

[rexxdjarin]

Hi! This is Cody fic anon from a couple months back…I started writing a little post-Order 66/circa Bad Batch season 2 in honor of the release today, and I wanted to know ur thoughts/critiques! Here’s a little snippet of the very rough draft in Cody’s POV lol. Enjoy! 🥰

Cody had finally fallen asleep after what seemed like forever. He was certain that it wasn’t the kind of sleep that would leave him feeling refreshed after he woke up. No, it was more like the kind of sleep that was forced and out of necessity, not because he wanted to. Cody slept because he knew he would be even more irritable if he didn’t, and because he was mandated to be in a dark room in a cot for a prolonged period of time. He had surrendered to the situation and closed his eyes.

He was having much more trouble sleeping these days. He knew damn well why, but he refused to admit it to himself. What confused and scared him the most was that his thoughts were all amuck. Cody was always very self-assured, certain of himself, but the events that had transpired since the fall of the Republic had him doubting who he was, what he had done, and what he was fighting for. What the hell even is the Empire? Why is he here? Are there sides at this point? Or is it just our side overpowering the other? What is the other side? Is it plural sides rather than a side? Well, he was always taught that good and bad was always clear-cut and polarized; but he was also not a droid. He was a human being, and his experience as a human being and a soldier taught him otherwise. It wasn’t always that simple to deconstruct.

These thoughts were then pushed away in his subconscious, and a comfortable warmth enveloped his body like a shroud, and it felt protective in a strange way. Behind his closed eyes and in his mind, Cody saw his Commander’s face. She was radiant, her lips pursed into the knowing little smile that she reserved only for him.

No. She was a Jedi. She was executed for treason. I killed her; I made sure of it. I was not in love with a traitor. I am not in love with a traitor. If I’m going to think of her, I must think of her as my cyar’ika. A normal girl. Cyar’ika would not betray the Republic, or the Jedi Order, or her men, or anyone she ever knew. I knew that about her. But my Commander might.

Cody knew his Commander broke precepts of the Jedi Code to adapt to wartime. He remembered the many discussions they had about it: how sticking to the traditions of the Code was an inherent logical fallacy; how peacekeepers who had many moral exceptions should not be military leaders; how deep her sympathy for him and his brothers ran, and how the permission for utilization of the clones was an ethical issue that she didn’t understand; how she must believe all of these things in secret and act like she was orthodox in order to keep her status as a Jedi Padawan…all of it. He remembered all of it.

His Commander did betray the Republic. It was simple: her thoughts did not align with her actions. She was fraudulent. She was a threat to the broken peace that the Jedi Order preached and did not practice, and the Empire would follow suit and fix their mistakes, but the right way. She had metamorphosed into a soldier like him throughout the war. She did not remain a peacekeeper. Simple, simple, simple.

Although he was trying to convince himself otherwise to justify his shallow dream, Cyar'ika and his Commander were not two different people; they were the same person.

Cody could not only see her, but feel her. Her hands cupping his face so gently, so reverently. Her supple lips, pressing soft kisses on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his lips. The shrapnel scar that framed his left temple.

Omfg Omfg omfg nonnie🥺🧡

This is SOOOO compelling. I’m really drawn in by the back and forth in Cody’s mind. The way you can FEEL him fighting to try to understand what he’s going through with the chip warping his thoughts and his reality.

And I’m in PAIN at the idea that it could jeopardize his relationship with someone he loves😭😭😭

I’m SO proud of you for taking the leap and writing based on an idea that came to you!!! This is wonderful and I really love this idea. I can’t wait to see where you go with this and if you post this work absolutely feel free to tag me🥰🧡

[sluttywonwoo]

study buddies || k.mg x reader

Pairing: frat!mingyu x fem reader 

Summary: studying for midterms with the guy you’re hooking up with goes exactly how you’d expect

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark ) for my gf’s birthday :)) happy birthday @hotgirlmingyu

Masterlist

You woke up to banging on your apartment door. Groaning, you rolled over to check your phone and saw that it was six am. You pushed yourself up and out of bed and padded into the kitchen to answer the door. You were surprised the relentless knocking hadn’t woken up your roommate, but she was a pretty heavy sleeper.

You yanked the door open to see Mingyu with a handful of textbooks. You squinted at him in confusion, wondering if you were seeing things. Mingyu had never been to your place before, you didn’t even know he knew where you lived.

His appearance startled you a bit. His hair was messy where it was usually slicked back or styled and he was wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him in anything other than khakis and a douchey printed shirt.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

He frowned. “You said we should study for midterms together.”

You thought back to the last time you’d seen Mingyu. You couldn’t remember saying anything like that.

“Was I drunk?”

“Probably.”

“So why are you here?”

“To study. You agreed that we could help each other out.”

“Mingyu, I don’t even remember agreeing to that.”

“Well I’m already here,” he said and pushed past you into your apartment.

“Seriously? It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah, and midterms are next week.”

“Couldn’t you have waited until the sun was up?” you grumbled, mostly to yourself and shut the door behind him.

“We’ve got a lot of material to cover.”

You cursed under your breath as you watched him set up at your kitchen table, knowing you should probably study even though you desperately wanted to go back to bed.

You and Mingyu had met at a party at his fraternity and woke up the next morning tangled in the sheets of his bed. To say it was awkward would have been an understatement. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but to your horror, you saw him in your stats lecture on Monday and your mythology class on Thursday. This was a pretty big university. Why did the same asshole have to be in two of your classes?

As much as it annoyed you, you couldn’t stop thinking about Mingyu, and apparently, he was having a similar dilemma because every time you went out he seemed to be there, and every time you hooked up.

That was the extent of your relationship, though. You didn’t even speak to each other in class or at parties. The only time you talked was behind closed doors when one or both of you was naked. Even then you kept your guard up because you refused to let yourself fall for a frat boy with commitment issues who never wanted to be seen with the same girl twice. A boy who wouldn’t even talk to you in public.

But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart fluttered when he said your name as he was about to cum, or the way his lips felt against yours. He could be a total dick, but you’d also seen a softer side of him that he didn’t show many people. You forced yourself to forget about that side. It was easier that way.

“Okay, what are we starting with?” you asked with a sigh.

“We have the stats exam first, we should work on that.”

You made a face. Statistics was the harder out of the two for you. In fact, it was the hardest class you were taking this semester.

“I can’t believe I’m doing math before seven am.”

“You won’t be complaining when you ace the midterm,” he quipped, already working on a practice worksheet.

You watched him solve problems like he was checking items off a list. You knew he was good at statistics, but you didn’t know he was that good. Figures, a guy like him was good at pretty much everything. Everything except mythology apparently, because once you’d switched to that he was flustered and frustrated. You would quiz him on myths only for him to get every single question wrong.

“Mingyu, did you even read any of these?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Yes, y/n, I read every one. How do you think I passed all the reading quizzes?”

“Cheating?” it slipped out before you could stop it and Mingyu gave you a hard glare. You held up your hands defensively. “Just a joke.”

“I don’t think it was.” He licked his lips. “But for what it’s worth I read them all. I just can’t keep them straight.”

You sighed. You felt bad, but you were getting frustrated too. And not just because Mingyu wasn’t grasping the myths. This was the longest you’d ever spent together (at least while you were awake) and you hadn’t even had sex. He just smelled so nice and looked so cute when he was concentrating that you couldn’t help feeling a little impatient. You had been at it for hours, you thought you would’ve done it at least once by now. But Mingyu was more serious about studying than you thought. It was kind of admirable and kind of annoying.

“Okay well reread through the Egyptian myths and I’ll quiz you again.”

“Alright.”

He pulled out his reading packet and flipped to the section you took out your phone and scrolled through social media mindlessly as he read, but it quickly got boring. You wished Mingyu would take a break so he could rail you. He was still reading intently, but you figured a little distraction couldn’t hurt.

You started by taking your hair down from your bun and shaking it out so that it fell around your shoulders. You knew your shampoo drove Mingyu crazy and hoped it would have an effect on him today. He shifted his seat, but didn’t look up from the packet. Next, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder. You’d never done something so domestic like this with Mingyu, but it seemed to work because he cleared his throat and adjusted his sweatpants.

“You know you could be working on math.”

You shrugged. “We already did stats for hours today. I think I’ll jump off a bridge if I look at one more differential equation.”

He fell silent and tried focusing back onto the reading, but you moved your hand to his thigh and kept it there as you continued to through twitter, not even reading what was on your screen.

“Stop that,” Mingyu muttered, making you jump a little.

“Why?”

“Fuck, because you’re distracting me. You look too hot right now.”

“I’m wearing pajamas.”

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and I’m trying not to fuck you senseless right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” you asked lowly and nipped at his ear.

“Need to finish this,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“I can’t convince you to take a break?” You moved the hand on his leg up so that you were cupping him over his pants.

He shook his head. “After.”

You leaned over and kissed his neck, then his jaw, and felt him get hard under your hand. “If I have to stop what I’m doing you won’t be able to walk for the next week.”

“That sounds like more of a motivator than a deterrent,” you admitted. “I’ll suck you off,” you offered and hooked your thumb in the waistband of his sweats, trying to bribe him.

“If you let me finish I’ll eat you out,” he countered.

You straightened up. It sounded like a pretty good deal.

“Fine.”

A few minutes passed in silence and you were waiting patiently, typing up a rough draft of an essay you had due for another class when Mingyu groaned.

“What?” you asked, wondering if he needed help.

“Can you please stop that?”

“Stop what? I’m literally doing nothing.” You were genuinely confused now.

“Just- I don’t know you’re making it so hard to concentrate.”

“Am I making it hard?” You smirked.

“Very funny.”

“Would it help if I put a paper bag over my head?”

“Probably.”

“Come on, keep reading about Osiris.”

“I don’t want to read about Osiris anymore, he’s a dick.”

“The faster you finish the faster you can get off.”

“I thought you didn’t want to wait,” Mingyu pointed out, trying to deflect.

“I think I recall something about you going down on me if I let you finish reading.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but didn’t turn back to the book. Instead, he continued to gaze at you with those big brown eyes. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What?” You felt your cheeks get warm.

“I just really want to kiss you right now.”

You smiled and raised your chin, challenging him. “Then do it.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, savoring the moment.

When you pulled away, Mingyu’s eyes were dark with want and you could see that he was now fully hard in his sweatpants.

“How about I eat you out now anyway?” He suggested, leaning forward to kiss your neck.

You moaned and brought your hands to his hair.

“You trying to bribe me?”

“Is it working?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Mingyu stood and picked you up from your chair. You wrapped your legs around his waist again. He pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth and smirked.

“Promise you’ll finish studying after?” you asked.

He considered it. “Does what we’re about to do count as studying mythology? Because it’s going to be legendary.”

You scrunched up your face in distaste. “No, I take it back. Put me down.”

Mingyu grinned. “Hey! You know no ones gives it to you as good as I do.”

“That confident are you?”

His grin turned into a smirk. “Is that a challenge?”

lmk what you think i always appreciated feedback!!

forever tags: @haven-cove

shoot me an ask to be added/removed from my taglist

[jackrrabbit]

🤍 Haikyuu WIP excerpts

preview post for hq because recently i showed sara a list of my works in progress and she laughed at me and then made a dn joke like this is 2015 or something. we got:

🤍 communal property /// ushijima x f!reader x tendou 🤍 sunshower /// atsumu x f!reader x osamu 🤍 corporate ethics /// kuroo x f!reader

anyway these are all terrible first drafts and i'm not sorry. however i am very very into these pieces and if you're interested in seeing them finished, you should tell me fr fr

🤍 communal property /// Ushijima x f!Reader x Tendou

Summary: Tendou shares everything with Ushijima—his food, his dorm room, even the AVs he likes. Why not his girlfriend, too?

Tags/warnings: poly relationship in progress (only you and Tendou are dating at this point), mild suggestiveness ??, s*ze k*nk

Status: 10k words written (holy fuck lol) out of ~11k total? this bitch better get finished is2g

After the match, your voice is hoarse from screaming but you still manage to yell congratulations for your boyfriend when you meet him and Ushijima outside the locker room in the stadium. You’re pumped on the adrenaline of the game, so you don’t even protest like you usually would when Tendou picks you up in the middle of your hug and lifts you off the ground effortlessly. “How was I? Awesome, right? I told you we would beat them!”

“You did, you so did—“ Even though your throat hurts, you can’t help gushing about every rally, every soul-crushing block, every impossible spike. “—and then the guy on the left thought he was clear to shoot it but you just—“ You throw your arms in the air and mime hitting the ball down like a blocker. “Wha-bam!—and the look on his face! I thought he was going to punch you!”

Tendou laughs and lays a sloppy kiss on your cheek, just as thrilled as you are by the win. “You really liked it that much? I thought you weren’t into sports.”

“I loved it! You were so cool! I can’t believe I’m dating someone so cool!” You wrap your legs around his back and hug his face close to yours, reveling in the fact that this weirdo belongs to you wholly and entirely, that you get to have him to yourself (well, other than his roommate). “And I’m not into sports, I’m into you.”

Tendou smiles in a way that makes the sides of his eyes crinkle up and little red patches bloom over his cheeks, a look that says, I like you so much (Y/N), I like you I like you I like you, except he’s probably trying not to be mushy like that since Ushijima is standing off to the side.

You feel a little bad for ignoring him (no one likes being the third wheel, even if he never shows signs of caring) so when Tendou sets you down you turn to Ushijima. “And you! Holy shit, Tendou said you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good. The ball when you hit it was super loud—honestly, how are your hands okay? If I hit it that hard I’d probably break something.”

“My hands are fine…this is normal for me.”

But just because you’ve got them here in front of you and you’re still pumped from the exhilaration of the win, you can’t help grabbing Ushijima’s hand and flipping it palm-up to inspect. True to his word, there’s no redness, just the calluses he’s built up on his long fingers. “Wow.”

“You don’t need to worry about Wakatoshi,” Tendou tells you, grinning and then making a face. “He’s a monster, he can handle it.”

“No kidding. You’re both monsters.” You put the base of your palm up against Ushijima’s to gauge the size of his hand against yours, and without prompting Tendou grabs your other hand to press against his own. Tendou’s fingers are a bit longer, but Ushijima’s are…thicker, more solid. Your hands look like a little kid’s in comparison. “Can I be honest? Half the time I was thinking I actually feel bad for the other team. If I had to take on both of you at the same time, I’d probably cry.”

You’re (mostly) joking, but it’s still a complete shock when you see the side of Ushijima’s mouth curl up a tiny bit. You’ve known each other for months at this point, but you’ve never seen him smile until now. Half of you is wondering if this is some kind of optical illusion caused by the atmosphere and the dim light of the stadium cutting through the evening, but the other half of you enjoys it. You made Ushijima smile. You did that.

“Don’t sell yourself short, (Y/N).” Ushijima says, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah!” Tendou chimes in, resting his chin on top of your head and folding his arms around your neck from his place behind you. “I’m sure you could take both of us. Right, Wakatoshi?”

So that’s probably a sign.

🤍 sunshower /// Atsumu x f!Reader x Osamu

Summary: [Kitsune AU] You find an old Ō-Inari shrine in the woods that may not be as abandoned as it looks.

Tags/warnings: Shinto religion, this preview is biased toward tsumu oops, yearning/soft vibes

Status: 3.9k words written out of 5–6k? total

Atsumu was the one who found you.

That’s how he likes to talk about it, that he found you, like you’d still be wandering around lost in the woods if it weren’t for him. Osamu thinks you would have found your way back home eventually but Atsumu likes it better this way, this framing that makes it seem like they saved you.

It’s hard for him to tell time linearly the way humans do but you mention once that you’ve known them for a year and that seems to fit. It’s spring now, almost barely tipping into summer, and it was spring when Atsumu found you. He remembers because of the way it was raining: light and tender, a summer rain early in the season, each little drop tapping off a leaf and then rolling into the forest bed to be eaten up by the grass and the soil.

Atsumu likes the rain, likes the sweet earthy smell it makes and the way the plants look so lush and green and alive, like they’d bleed if he sunk his teeth into them. He was out in the woods because of the rain ('Samu was in the shrine, as usual, attempting to set buckets under the millions of holes in the roof so the rainwater wouldn’t pool and rot through the wood underneath). But Atsumu was half asleep in a tree when he heard you crashing through the undergrowth, tripping over ferns and snapping every twig in your path (thought ya might be a bear, he tells you later, that’s how loud ya were) but he wouldn’t really have woken up if he hadn’t heard you singing.

(The odd thing is, you weren’t actually singing. You remember that day as vividly as they do: the warm, humid air making your skin feel sticky under your yellow raincoat; the tiny raindrops filtering through the canopy and kissing your cheeks; the ink feathering out on the damp xerox of the old map you found in your great-aunt’s attic so you could barely make out the “X” that was supposed to mark the location of the lost Inari shrine… You were cursing how stupid you’d been to go on a wild goose chase into the mountains with no cell service and no marked trail to look for a shrine that no one had seen in decades. You definitely weren’t singing.)

But Atsumu remembers it differently. No matter how many times you explain that you were just talking to yourself, when he replays the sound of your voice back then (reaching and lilting and falling, the way the birds talk to each other in the early morning, except the music of it was poured into syllables and words), it sounds like you’re singing. He wasn’t sure at first, hadn’t heard a voice that wasn’t Osamu’s in so many years that he gets tired counting them, but then he saw you push into view from between two bushes and he thought, a human!

A girl, too—it was hard to say at first because you were wearing that weird, slick jacket of yours, so bright yellow it was like an oversized flower blooming out of the grass, but then you tilted your head up to feel the rain on your face and the hood fell down and he knew. Not just a human, a girl! Atsumu wanted to yell for Osamu, make him come and confirm that there was a person wandering around not a mile from the shrine. A real person! Singing and smiling and wiping the rain off her cheeks (does that mean you like the rain, just like he does? did you come out to feel it too?) But he also wanted to surprise Osamu so he hid his tails and his ears and came down from the tree and asked if you had lost your way in the forest, since you were so far from any path…

When you think back on this yourself you’re amazed that you just went with him: a strange boy (man?) wearing a fox mask and traditional Shinto priest robes, which were somehow pristine white and red despite him having appeared from nowhere in the middle of a dense forest, who told you he had no idea what direction the village was but he could take you to the Inari shrine you’d been searching for…well. Maybe you were too surprised to be wary, or maybe you were just exhausted and lost. But you like to think you had a sense of it even then, the irrational belief that the boy in the woods was not just a boy in the woods.

Atsumu thinks you knew. Humans always understand, even when they try not to… He remembers, he took your hand that day in the forest and you saw that the claws on his fingers were too long to be human, and you said nothing because on some level you already felt it. Your skin was cool then, smooth and damp from the rain; he wanted to stop, run his hands up your arms, touch the places on your face where your mouth had been turned up at the corners and press his fingers into your cheeks.

🤍 corporate ethics /// Kuroo x f!Reader

Summary: [Office AU] The new junior marketing associate just happens to be Kuroo’s favorite camgirl, and he’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

Tags/Warnings: boss/employee, businessman!Kuroo as a reformed player, camgirl reader, this excerpt has a lil bit of 18+ content 👀

Status: 1.2k words written out of 4k? words total

Kuroo doesn’t watch porn.

It’s not, like, a moral principle or something. He has nothing against pornography. As far as he knows, it’s perfectly normal for single men. He just doesn’t like it…unless it’s you.

When he was in school it was easy. Being a teenager meant being so flooded with hormones that a warm breeze could get him up, and the adrenaline rush of winning a game was better than any big-titted porn actress faking moans into a shit-quality boom mic. Sure, he watched porn back then (what teenage boy didn’t?), but it was more out of curiosity than necessity. It was all kind of a mystery at that point, the way it can only be when you’re a clueless virgin and you and all your friends are too busy practicing for the next game to get girls.

Somehow Bokuto was the first one in their friend group to lose his virginity, and the memory of the dumbass self-consciously describing the experience has been lodged in Kuroo’s brain for the 10+ years since. “It was…I don’t know. She smelled good. You know how girls always smell good?” Bokuto’s hands twitched and his face was pink. “It’s just really…soft.”

Soft was right, Kuroo would reflect when he got laid for the first time a few months later. Soft, warm, wet. Sex was awkward at first, but before he knew it it was more natural than breathing.

It didn’t change much after high school, either. He didn’t get into volleyball for the groupies, but they didn’t hurt. There were girls when he played for his college team, more girls when he joined a business frat, so many girls he couldn’t keep track…they blurred together after a while. It didn’t take effort. You don’t need game when you’re 6’2 and you’re in the gym 40 hours a week, and you definitely don’t need porn.

So he never got into it. Now that he’s promoting volleyball instead of playing, things are more complicated. Kuroo’s never been the type who expects things to fall in his lap, but there are so many rules when it comes to dating in the real world. Good morning texts, anniversaries, flowers, parents. It’s exhausting. One time—seriously, just one time—Kuroo misses his girlfriend’s birthday to go watch a Jackals game, and the next time he sees her she throws her drink on him in public and keys his car. After that, Kuroo decides that until he’s ready to settle down there will be no more girlfriends. Which means no more reliable sex. Which means resorting to porn.

Which means you.

You, batting your eyelashes at the camera and biting the side of your lip. You, purring and mewing like a kitten. You, lying back on your pretty pink bedsheets in your pretty pink lingerie, sliding your hands between your legs. It takes Kuroo a full month to decide to pay for access to your website (Kenma’s unsolicited recommendation) but it takes less than five minutes for him to upgrade access to premium. You look like a wet dream—no, you look like the centerfold of every dirty magazine Kuroo managed to get his hands on when he was younger. Pristine and alluring and so deliciously out of reach.

And you make it so simple. No delicate emotional games with rules Kuroo never bothered to learn. No pretending to care how your day was. You untie the little bows on the side of your panties and lick your fingers and Kuroo just has to take his dick out and watch you. Getting off hasn’t been this easy for him since college. You’re a camgirl, you exist on his computer screen, and that’s how he likes it.

Which makes it a lot more awkward when Kuroo finds out that the only woman he’s gotten off to in the past…year, maybe?…somehow just got hired in JVA’s sports promotion department as his junior associate.

Your prim work blouse is buttoned up to the collar and your makeup is different, but he knows it’s you. You have to tell him your name twice because he’s too stunned to respond the first time, and even then he can’t summon up more of a response than a curt nod because his mouth tastes like dirt.

You smile a little awkwardly at his cool reception, and the hand you’d extended out to shake swings back down to your side. “Um, the guy at HR said he sent up my info yesterday…I’ll be working directly underneath you?”

Directly underneath me. Kuroo is taking a sip of his coffee when you say this. He doesn’t spit it out, but it’s close.

[haileygarciasunshine]

You’ve Been Hacked

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Written: July 18th, 2021

Posted: July 18th, 2021

Warning: Swear, Kidnapping, Use of Chloroform, choking description, Noncon make out (Not Loki)

Word Count: 3,179

Author’s Note: I’m planning on making a Pt. 2! :) Not me writing a new fic when I have 125 drafts and like 5 WIP :) Feedback is welcome!!! Send it Here

Summary: Loki pushes away those who care about him in attempt to protect them. What happens when he pushes away the only avenger that is on his team in attempt to protect her?

Loki Masterlist

“How much longer until Jarvis, is ready to go?” Tony questioned as he placed a hand on the back of your chair.

“Huh?” You questioned before remembering what his question was. “Oh, it shouldn’t be much longer.” You shrugged without taking your eyes off the screen before you.

”Good.” Tony spoke. ”Is there a reason why Rock of Ages is in here?”

”Huh? Oh.” You spoke tilting your head to get a better look at the Asgardian God at the other end of the room. “I didn’t notice.”

“Uh huh.” Tony muttered quietly as he began towards the exit. “Come and see us in the Lab when you’re done.”

Nodding your head, you gave him a silent agreement. Once he was gone, Loki appeared beside you. Tilting your head, you gazed at the Raven haired man. He returned your smile allowing you to share an innocent moment. Somersaults formed again in your stomach. Your heart began beating rapidly the longer you observed your close proximity. Clearing your throat, you turned back to your computer screen. “I, uh.”

“What’s wrong, pet?” Loki questioned, his breath swirling around the shell of your ear. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to be in the moment. Shuddering, you clenched your hand into a fist in attempt at keeping yourself grounded.

Before either of you could respond, your computer let out a beep. Snapping your attention towards the computer, a thin layer of ice enveloped you. Upon the screen displayed the dreaded words you had been attempting to fight off.

’You’ve been hacked.’

Gasping, your jaw fell slack as you rushed to begin fighting off the cyberattack. Your heart raced as you felt a sheer layer of sweat beginning to form along your skin.

It wasn’t long before you had fended off the attack. Once you were sure that the Avengers cyber security was secure again, you turned back to where Loki was. Frowning, you scrunched your eyebrows together. Your heart felt into your stomach as you were met with an empty space.

Glancing down, there was a small note left in Loki’s seat. Grabbing the paper, you read it.

Meet me in my room.

Grinning to yourself, you left your desk stopping at a nearby coffee station to bring to Tony and Bruce, on your way through the compound.

“Finally decided to join us, I see.” Tony snarked as he glanced at you atop his computer monitor.

Giggling to yourself, you placed one of the two extra cups of coffee, you had walked into work with, upon his desk. “Good morning to you too, Tony.”

“I smell coffee-“ Cutting himself off, Bruce greeted you with a quick smile and hug. “I should’ve known it was you.” He chuckled softly. “Tony, never does anymore.” Raising the cup to his mouth, he gulped some down before he raised an eyebrow at Tony.

“Ouch, jolly green.” Tony smirked, knowing how Bruce felt about the nickname.

Sighing to himself, Bruce quickly moved, what felt like, as far away from Tony the lab would allow. However, a whispered ‘I hate you,’ that was directed at Tony, didn’t escape you. Snickering to yourself, you lifted your own cup to your lips before swallowing the now lukewarm caffeine.

“See you guys later.” You spoke turning on your heel making a hasty getaway not wanting to be roped into another buttering battle between the two science bros. “Try to get along today, shall we?”

“Don’t tell me what to do! You’re not Pepper!” Tony yelled before you left.

The corners of your lips lifted slightly in a smirk. Rolling your eyes, you shook your head as you continued making your way out of the lab.

Venturing through the compound, you were in search of one resident.

“Well, hello again, lady Y/N.” Thors booming voice echoed off the walls in the hallway.

Your lips promptly turned into a toothy grin as your best friends brother sped walked toward you.

Turning your head, you grinned up at the God. “Hey, Thor.”

“I presume you’re looking for my brother.” He spoke clasping his hands behind his back, matching his pace with yours.

Jokingly, you placed a hand over your heart as you gasped halting your movements. “Why Thor, how did you know that?” You teased raising an eyebrow. Placing your hands on your hips you giggled breaking character momentarily. “Did you look in my head?” Your tone resuming it’s previous tone.

Standing before you, he rolled his eyes as he shook his head slightly. “No wonder why you and Loki get along.” He sighed. Reaching up, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Gasping, you stomped your foot. “How dare you!”

Your sudden shriek caused the shield agents in the hall to bring their attention towards you and Thor. Gazing around the hall, Thor groaned more audibly. “Okay, okay.” He spoke raising his hands in mock surrender, hushing you all the while. “As you were.” He spat at the rest of the agents.

Giggling, you batted your eyes at Thor, giving him your best innocent puppy dog eyes.

“He’s in his room.” He sighed as he rolled his eyes. “Go on now.”

Without waiting for Thor to continue speaking, you ventured towards the elevators before getting in and pressing the number for Loki’s floor.

Once the doors open, you practically skipped down the hallway. Your mind clouded with thoughts before you walked into something firm and strong. Wobbling slightly, arms gently gripped your biceps keeping you steady. “Easy there, petal.”

“Loki!” You exclaimed, feeling somersaults forming in your stomach. Your heart fluttering slightly, as his scent wafted in your nose.

His chuckle danced through your ears. “Hello, love.”

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you gently tugged him downward allowing you more leverage to keep him tucked against you closely. Your eyes closing allowing you to savior the moment.

Loki stiffened at initial contact, however he quickly recovered wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

It had taken you awhile, to get to where you were now with Loki. He wasn’t one for touch and everyone in the compound knew that. It wasn’t until you had formed a friendship with Loki, that he was more keen on the idea of being touched. Everyone was surprised at his sudden change in nature along with seeing the amount of times you shared casual touches. What took you by surprise, was the sudden daily increase of “casual,“ touches Loki shared with you.

Nuzzling your neck, Loki was quick to pull you out of your daydreams. Your opened your eyes, only to gasp at your different surroundings.

Opening and closing your mouth, you were slightly taken back at the sudden change.

“Loki-“

“Sorry, petal.“ Loki shrugged, as a grin danced along his lips. “I wanted you to myself.” Lifting his hand, he cradled your jaw allowing his thumb to trace along your face.

Raising your hand, you gently grasped Loki’s wrist. Gazing at him, you saw a flash of a frown. It was gone before you could question him. Closing your eyes, you turned your head slightly, you placed a feather light kiss upon the digit. Loki‘s gasp filled your ears. Your eyes flying open at the sound, as thoughts of how you might’ve crossed a line in your friendship took over.

Scrunching your eyebrows together, you opened and closed your lips while gazing at Loki. “I-“

Manuvering his hand, Loki’s thumb followed the plains of your lips. Tracing your top lip gently, before traveling to your bottom one. Lightly, he tugged at the appendage as his eyes were trained on your lips. Your eyes popped out slightly while your heart beat picked up. Your breaths becoming hitched in your throat.

Lifting his eyes back up to yours, he held a slight question neither of you bothered to ask. Somersaults forming in your stomach as Y/E/C ones locked with his icy ones.

“Petal-“

The sound of someone knocking jolted through you. Jumping away from Loki, you gasped as your mouth was suddenly drier than the dessert.

“I…I should…go.” Your cleared your throat. Nodding to yourself, you scurried towards the door. Yanking it open, Thor stood before you with his hand raised as he was about to knock again.

Gazing between you and his breath, a sly smirk made it’s way to his lips.

”Nothing happened.” You grumbled cutting him off as you left Loki’s room.

”Wait!” Loki raced to the door frame, leaning against it as he called after you.

Letting out a sigh, you rushed to the library. Once inside, you leaned against the door as you attempted to wrap your mind about what almost happened.

As the rest of the day flew by, you kept yourself busy in the library. Piles of read books littered a table you sat at all day. Sighing, you reached for another book you walked back towards the area you claimed. Lifting your eyes from the book in hand, you gasped.

“Hello, Petal.” Loki smiled, as he gazed at you. His eyes holding a softer emotion, you’ve become acustom to over the past few months.

Opening and closing your mouth, you frowned. It was the first time you had found yourself at a loss for words.

“H-Hi.”

Standing before Loki, you shifted from foot to foot. Heat danced along your cheeks.

”I think we should…Forget it.” He spoke, his shoes coming into your peripheral sight.

Furrowing your eyebrows together, you heat expand in your chest. Your eyes snapped up gazing at him, searching for a sign.

”What?” You whispered, your heart falling into your stomach. Tear began forming in your eyes. “W-Why would I want to do that?”

”Because...” His voice trailed off. “It was just a joke.”

Snapping your head up, you gazed at Loki. Searching for any hint of a lie. Before you could catch them, tears began cascading down your cheeks. As you gazed at him, Loki’s features flashed sorrow before quickly replacing it with a hardened expression. Clenching his jaw, he knew he had to uphold his persona.

”I..I..” Your mind was going a million miles a minute as you attempted to soak in what Loki confessed. Tears began dripping onto your hand calling you back.

”I trusted you.” Your voice coming out hoarse.

”That was your mistake.” Loki spat, glaring down at you.

Flinching at his sudden harshness, you couldn’t stop the sobs that passed through your lips.

”Fuck you.”

Tossing the book onto the table, you whirled around on your heels rushing out of the library. For the second time that day, you heard Loki call after you. And for the second time that day, you neglected to turn around and acknowledge him.

As you rushed out of the library, you hadn’t been paying attention to where you were going. Colliding with muscly wall, you hadn’t bothered to identify who you walked into. Wrapping your arms around their waist, you buried your face into their chest allowing their shirt to soak up your tears. Sobs continued to wreck through your body as you began to tremble.

”Woah, doll.” Bucky’s voice rang through your ears. His arms quickly wrapping around you protectively. Placing a hand on your upper back, he began rubbing the area. “It’s okay.”

Shaking your head, you continued crying not caring to use your voice.

”Do you want to talk about it?” He questioned gently.

Shaking your head again, Bucky nodded to himself.

“Come on doll, let’s get you to your room.”

Nodding your head in agreement, you didn’t budge. Letting out a chuckle, Bucky maneuvered himself which allowed him to pick you up bridal style. Burying your face in his neck, you allowed the slight say of being carried lull you to sleep.

Once he reached your room, Bucky placed you carefully on the bed before pulling blankets over you. Moving to leave, your hand grasped his wrist preventing him from leaving. Glancing over his shoulder at you, he let a smile tug his lips.

”Stay?” You questioned meekly.

Nodding his head, he crawled over you, and pulled the blankets over him. Once he was comfortable on his back, you rolled onto your side. Throwing a leg over his hips, you laid your head over his heart allowing the steady beating to lull you back to sleep. Placing a kiss to your hair, Bucky tracked patterns on your back.

After that night, you told yourself, you wouldn’t be the one to break. In your mind, you wanted Loki to suffer slightly like you had. As you went out of your way to avoid him, your heart slowly mended itself back together, allowing you to form a friendship with Bucky.

Walking back to your room, you toed off your shoes once you were inside. Letting out a content sigh, you shrugged off your jacket.

“Petal.” Loki’s unfamiliar voice rang through your ears.

Halting your movements, you froze gazing at the space in front of you. Once you collected yourself, you whirled around to face the God. “Don’t call me that.” You snarled.

Frowning, he nodded in understandment. His hands were clasped behind his back, aiding him in puffing out his chest. “You don’t get to tell me I was a joke to you, leave, and then try and come back into my life months after!”

Loki continued holding a stoic expression along his features. Heat rose in your cheeks as your chest began rapidly rising and falling.

“Get out.” You spat crossing your arms along your chest.

”Don’t-“

”No, get out.”

Nodding his head, he let out a sigh. Once he was out of the room, relief washed over you. Letting out a huff, you plopped down on your bed before laying down. Throwing your arms across your eyes, you let out a hefty sigh.

The next day, Tony had sent you out on a solo grocery shopping trip. Reluctantly, you agreed. You had wanted to get out of the compound in attempt to gather your thoughts, however you were skeptical as Tony usually had ulterior motives behind his actions.

Pulling into the parking lot, you leaned your head back against the leather head rest. Closing your eyes, you attempted to clam yourself.

Once you felt that you were ready, you exited the car. As you began walking away from the car, you shoved your hand into your purse in search of your phone.

”Excuse me, miss?” A male voice questioned closely.

”Yes?” You questioned turning to face him.

“Are you…Y/N Y/L/N?” He questioned attempting to offer you a comforting smile.

A sudden eery feeling overwhelmed you. Your heart began beating rapidly, as the hair on your arms along with the hair on the back of your neck, stood at attention.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you turned towards the man more. “Y-Yes-“

Barely finishing your sentence, a cloth was placed over your mouth and nose. Gasping, you scratched at the strangers arm. The other man yanked you backwards. Your back colliding with their chest. With widened eyes, you attempted to dig your heels into the cement in hopes of troubling the man who began dragging you. Your keys were long gone from your hands before the thought of using them crossed your mind.

Thrashing in the man’s arms, you felt yourself becoming weaker and weaker as consciousness was fading. Your grip on his wrist quickly loosening as you felt the word fade to black.

Jolting awake, you squinted your eyes as you adjusted to the shining light above you. Groaning, you lulled your head to the side as your body ached. Tugging at your hands, you were quick to realize they were bound as plastic dug into the skin around your wrists.

”Well, well, well.” One of the men from the grocery store parking lot spoke. Gazing up at him, you felt a flutter in your stomach. A sly smile made its way upon his lips. “Welcome back to the world of consciousness, Y/N.”

Grimacing at his words, you gazed around the room. Shivering, you realized you were in a dark and fridge place. As you were going to bite back at the man, you realized there was a cloth makeshift gag prying your mouth open slightly. Scrunching your eyebrows together, a soft whine left your lips as you tugged at your restrained hands.

”Don’t worry, sweetheart.” The man taunted, leaning in to place a hand upon the back of your chair. His nose tracing your jaw line before traveling down your neck. Inhaleing your scent, he chuckled. “You smell like Lavender. I can see why Loki likes you.”

Lifting his other hand, he twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “Soft too.” He taunted.

Placing a kiss to your cheek, he chuckled darkly. Moving your head away from him, you squeezed your eyes shut. The hand that was twirling your hair, quickly clasped your throat that was directly under your jaw. Forcing you to look him, he began squeezing cutting your airway off. It wasn’t long before you began gasping for air. Attempting to shift in your chair, you continued gasping.

Once the man felt you had suffered long enough, he released you. The supply of air racing back into your lung forced you to cough.

Moving the cloth gag from your lips, he clasped his hand over your mouth. “If you bite me, you’ll live to regret it.” He spat.

Furrowing your eyebrows together, you were perplexed as to what he meant. Releasing his hand, his lips were quick to replace it. The man’s lips were harsh and unforgiving.

Clenching your eyes shut, you kissed the man back in fear of what the repercussions would be. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it harsh bite. A whine escaped your lips as you flinched. Taking the chance, his tongue poked past your lips and traced over your tongue. The hand he choked you with, promptly reaching the back of your head, anchoring you firmly against him.

Another whine, sounded from you. His tongue traced the room of your mouth before wiggling around and tracing your teeth. Your air supply was quickly running out, as you felt your chest heave.

The man seemed to be on a mission to have the inside of your mouth committed to memory. His tongue tracing the underside of your tongue before returning to the top and sliding as far down as it could. Your teeth clashing slightly, as the feeling of his saliva dripping into your mouth overwhelmed you.

As the man pulled away from you, there was a line of saliva that connected you. Using the back of his hand, he wiped the access from his mouth. Panting, your chest rose and fell rapidly. Leaning back against the chair, you attempted to gather yourself.

”Did you get it?” The man questioned, his lust filled eyes not leaving you.

”Yep.” The second man stated, emerging from the shadows. A callous smile made its way to his lips.

”Good, send it to the Avengers compound.” The first man spoke. “Make sure it’s addressed to Loki.“

Send me Feedback Here

Join my Taglist Here

Request a Part Two (Yes, I do plan on making a second one let me know if you want to be tagged in it.) (Be sure To mention the title) Here

Send me a request Here

Taglist:

(The order is in no specific way or anything it’s just a result of copying and pasting lololol)

****Please interact if you want to continue being tagged in my fics****

@simonsbluee

@mooniezarie

@withakindheartx

@drakelover78

@yougottalovefandoms

@rachel-voychuk

@kaitieskidmore1

@yliumy

@hardhoagieponytree

@pietro-avengers14-blog

@lovelokiqueen

@teti-menchon0604

@catsandra-chan

@lazyloki

@juliannatryon

@comfortzonequeen

@loveloki3000

@gloryekaterina

@you-sunshine

@fredweazleyswh0re

@lilybat93

@prettysbliss

@famoustelevisionartbiscuit

@gbaabyyyy

@livanjelica

@realgaytrash

@incansas

@its-yasbxtch

@justsomerandompersonintheworld

@luciferedits

@kyliesalvatore

@deepcollectionmagazine

@patrycja-zp

@missryerye

@that-chick212

@chaotic-neutral-logic-sass

@miss-jade-morgan

@theuselesspowerpuff

@eunoia-kth

@bucky-j-barnes

@little-miss-naill

@fan-girl-in-denial

@ilovemollyweasley

@shotarosleftpinky

@purpleprincess14

@staygoldsquatchling02

@skegosaurus

@fortheloveofaqueenfan

@lieswithoutfairytales

@pandaxnienke

@vntgkenz

[theregoesmylurkerstatus]

So... I have a lot of thoughts on the finale. I've deliberately kept my mouth shut, more or less, on the campaign overall because I'm a firm believer that you can't pass judgement -- at least not complete judgement -- on stories until they're over and done with.

Well, it's done! Kind of crazy. I've been watching Critical Role with almost insane consistency, viewing almost every single episode live, with maybe five-ish exceptions, since episode 19, and I've been blogging it for, what, two and a half years?

It's a weird feeling. It's been such a constant thing for me that I'm always gonna have love for it and remember with a lot of fondness.

...Which is in spite of the fact that I can now comfortably say I'm pretty eh on the ending. I know not being positive about something most of us have loved a lot for a very long time can sting a bit, but I personally think it also stings when people relentlessly crow over how good they think it is or want it to be, to the point where you feel you can't voice your absolutely valid upsets or dissatisfactions. So, here goes, if anyone's interested! I'd be curious to see other opinions, too!

I actually drafted a post talking about my overall frustrations with the campaign a whole two weeks ago, and then scrapped most of it when 140 blew me out of the water. I was really touched, and really happy. I hadn't expected it, but it shockingly felt right, you know?

Unfortunately 141 robbed me of most of that satisfaction and brought me right back to neutral.

The blanket statement you have to make, of course, is that you can’t criticise this as a DnD game, and you can’t be mad at the cast for playing it in a way they think is best for them. They’re the players, Matt’s the DM, and in the end it makes no sense for them to try to make themselves act how they think the audience wants them to, and I’m sure most of the audience wouldn’t like the result anyway.

That said, there is an audience. And that’s where I see this clash coming in. As a DnD game, as long as the players and DM have all enjoyed it and been satisfied, it’s a successful game! But for us, it’s not a DnD game. For us, we’re watching a story be written in real time through the medium of an RPG. And while as a DnD game you can’t fault it, as a piece of media, I completely get why the way things have gone has sat weirdly for a lot of people.

It's not satisfying to see so many character hooks dealt with so quickly or left as an offscreen "and then you do it." If they don't want to keep playing to dive into it, absolutely, but for us who have been watching this as a story with all these character elements get so built up, it's a huge anti-climax.

Which is a lot of what this campaign has been, really.

Oh, Nott’s cursed! But through a really cool character moment that problem is completely taken care of with no consequences we see. Yay, I want her to be Veth and that was an iconic move from Jester! Still, it kind of feels like this was built up to be a big problem and at the first success it was let go... Caleb's got a really intense frightening past he tries to hide, I wonder how the Mighty Nein will respond? Oh, they found out, but it's not a difficult revelation for anyone. Looks like it's easy for them to move past it and forgive. Yeah, that's healthiest for the characters, but huh, kinda undercuts it as a storyline or point of interest. Oooh, Avantika’s back! Ah, they’ve killed her and grabbed the eye again. I mean I don’t want them to die or for Uk’otoa to be free, but I’m starting to feel like that’s not much of a threat anyway. The Traveler’s been kidnapped! Nah he hasn’t, he tried to save Jester so he was let go with no further issue, and also he wasn’t actually in any danger anyway. Oh... Cool. So... Why should I care or be worried?

And these are just the biggest ones I remember being kind of let down by. I wanted to see them STRUGGLE for the successes to have meaning. To my view, threats of failure -- real failure -- really decreased the more the campaign went on, with a few exceptions.

Because don't get me wrong, we've definitely had struggles, and those have made for some of the best moments! Molly’s death, Yasha’s kidnapping, Yeza’s imprisonment. When failures that were threatened are allowed to occur, it’s far more gratifying when it’s followed by success, because you understand that that success was actually necessary. It shows us that what they do really means something.

Honestly, that's why the final battle really shut me up, because nothing makes you quite feel stakes and failure like having two PCs die, and having a resurrection ritual fail -- AND knowing that failure would be delivered on, had it not been for a seemingly miraculous roll of the dice to turn it around. One of the greatest failure's -- Molly's death -- made the success of his resurrection put a lot of my other issues to rest immediately, because to be honest? Molly's resurrection was the biggest success of the campaign, exactly because it was originally the biggest failure.

But this episode, we got to see the other side of making threats and successes feel disappointing -- when you get the impression that success was robbed from you. Again, their characters, their choices, but to have them roll an intervention to get Molly's soul, to convince Molly to come back with his own possessions they've so loved, after so long and so many struggles... only to apparently not get Molly at all?

Changed, of course. Memories, maybe he'd never get them back, though that seems inconsistent to how the initial resurrection was played and Matt's hints. It even makes sense that not having his memories and being a bit different, he might forge a new identity, but insisting Molly was a different person entirely after such a supposed hard won success to get Molly back, especially after what his death meant to the audience and potentially healing that old wound? It robs the narrative of a LOT of catharsis, at least for me and I know many others.

Trent, too, I'm very up and down on. He was so built up -- and what fun that build up had -- and I very much disagreed with the idea that the best story would be dealing with him offscreen.

It's true that you don’t need to explicitly address, confront, or explore every big aspect of character's story hooks and background ties for PCs to move past them and grow healthily. But that does not make it a satisfying viewing experience. People quietly healing in real life is healthy. People quietly healing in an explosive fantasy setting is frustrating for the audience.

What on earth is the point of a story if you don’t get to SEE THE ESTABLISHED CONFLICTS go anywhere? A lot of the characters got distant, quiet resolutions, if that, to everything we wanted to see.

Except, we did get to see Trent. It was a really fun, inventive battle, from opening to conclusion, but much like Travelercon, much like Nott's/Veth's problem with the hag, these were things that the audience in general wanted to see be really dug into and explored, and every single one of them got, in my opinion, quickly tidied up instead. Trent got beaten in the first and only proper battle they had with him, which, after all his build up, is pretty disappointing for a villain many of us wanted to see be a big deal. It really just felt like they were trying to tidy up to get on with the epilogue, which is not what a lot of us were looking for with Trent especially.

And that's how most of their endings felt to me. It didn't feel like any of them had reached a comfortable conclusion. Literally all of them, bar Veth and Caduceus, continued on their character journey threads, without each other and very quickly. Meeting Yasha's tribe and Vandran, Caleb finally openly debating changing time for his parents, Trent and Zeenoth's trials and the changing of the guard at the Assembly... All were things it would have been so fun to have all the PCs react to and explore together, and instead they were fleeting encounters in the latter half of a seven hour finale.

Is all this, from Molly not really coming back to Trent being a finale side plot to the Nein continuing on their individual journeys, potentially realistic to how these fantastical things might go down in real life? Sure! But that's not necessarily a good thing.

Stories THRIVE on conflict and resolution. That’s what makes them FUN! Conflict isn’t nearly so fun in real life and resolutions are often frustrating question marks, so no, past a certain point I don’t WANT stories to be realistic. I want stories to be SATISFYING.

And campaign 2 has fallen far short of the mark.

I haven’t spoken... Basically a word of this for most of the campaign, because as I said I’m a firm believer that you can’t necessarily judge something until it’s over, and because I ALSO firmly believe that being negative WHILE trying to enjoy something is counterproductive. I have had no interest in spoiling or naysaying the fun of the campaign for anyone, least of all myself.

But it's done now, and all I can say is... I really have had fun. I love the characters. I love their relationships. I’m pretty okay with where they’ve ended up. I’m not mad, really, and I’m still going to think of this campaign with a lot of affection. But it hasn’t been a satisfying story, even though for a week following episode 140 I thought, despite all the brushed over story threads, it might be.

So... to try and reclaim some of that satisfaction for myself, I might ignore some aspects of the finale proper. Namely Kingsley specifically. Taliesin's choice -- but to me, it's pretty clear that who we saw at the end of 140 was Molly, and the tags on my posts will reflect that, just as my 141 tags will be for both Kingsley and Molly, for clarity's sake. I personally want to believe Molly did come back, however others might want to interpret it. The victory in 140 that meant so much to me is hollow otherwise, and it just kind of hurts that we would lose Molly after everything. I was okay with him being dead -- I'm not so okay with his resurrection being stolen.

Kingsley will always be canon, but Molly is what I choose to acknowledge. I get if you don't like that take, and that's okay! I didn't care for canon's in the end. That's the good thing about storytelling, is that no one can stop you from making your own versions.

For the people who are hopefully hyped for campaign 3, heck yeah have fun! I’m on the fence. My investment, which... I think I can objectively say was pretty substantive as this blog will attest, doesn't feel rewarded, so I’m not convinced I can faithfully keep up for over three years all over again with a strong possibility that I will once again be left disappointed. It's been a huge chunk of my life, and... yeah!

I’ll take a break, probably, view (and liveblog, if people want!) campaign 1 when I’ve had a mental stretch and vacation, and then... I might start campaign 3. I definitely won’t be able to put the same time in it I did campaign 2 (my first love no matter what), knowing that it’s likely to not be so vindicated, in the end.

I swear I’m actually writing this in fairly good humour, but I totally get its always disappointing when the people you come to for fandom enjoyment just aren't sharing your fun. Honestly I’m half tempted to write all those frigging AUs I have sitting around! But I wanted to say my piece, and try and logically outline why this ending has been lacklustre for so many people, ultimately myself included.

Episode 140 felt right because it felt like a natural conclusion -- these disparate people coming together and finally being whole, finally soothing the hurt that MADE them so long ago. Episode 141 spat on that sentiment -- they all scattered to the winds, not as happy people to live out their dreams, but as confused people chasing up loose threads towards an unknown future, with the friend they thought returned still lost to them, ultimately.

It doesn't feel like the ending we should have gotten for the Mighty Nine, who were finally, finally all together. Until they weren't. So to me? I choose to acknowledge that they were, even if I have to force it to happen post-epilogue in my head.

[sparkle-hwa]

at your service

summary: patiently waiting for your boyfriend to come home turns out to be quite the treat.

pairing: dom!hongjoong x sub!female reader

genre: smut

TW: none (but please let me know if I need to add any)

CW: dom/sub, name calling, slight degradation, unprotected sex

Word count:  2,366

A/N: aahhhh!! this is my first fanfiction that i wrote for ateez EVER and my first one I’m ever posting! i hope you all like it! please feel free to send any feedback :) 

________________________________________________________________

You sat on the couch, headphones in, trying to concentrate on writing your term paper. The semester was almost over and you needed at least a B to keep your solid academic standing. Better grades now meant more scholarship opportunities for graduate school in the future and that’s what mattered most. Rewriting the same sentence over and over again didn’t seem so bad compared to endless loan payments. Pulling the blanket up higher on your chest you snuggled in and decided that thirty more minutes of writing would put you in a good place to finish and edit it tomorrow. Your entire week had been consumed by school and you were not about to let your Friday night get taken up by this. Hongjoong, your sweet, caring boyfriend would be home soon and you wanted a clear head for what you believed to be in store for you.

He had been sending you picture after picture on snapchat almost all of today. To the outsider viewer, it probably looked like he was taking simple selfies; after all, he had been at his internship all day.  But the added captions were definitely for your eyes only. He detailed just what he wanted to do with you - to you - tonight and it was enough to make you squirm in your seat during class and turn the brightness all the way down on your phone.  Recalling it now, you could feel the heat rise in your body and you subconsciously swallowed hard. Some say you can’t remember pain, but you definitely remembered how difficult it was to get yourself situated in your 8am lecture last week, the welts still red on your backside. Shaking your head and adjusting your earbuds, you got back to work.

—-

Hongjoong parked his car outside of the apartment complex and slumped in the seat once he cut the engine. It had been a long day. His internship had him working twice as hard, copying and filing, delivering reports, and filling coffee cups. He counted his blessings every morning though. He was chosen from hundreds of applications that flooded in from the university and this on his resume was sure to impress future employers. Sighing, he thought about what would have happened if you hadn’t convinced him to apply. You were so good for him. 

With a smirk, he sat up, grabbed his laptop case, and opened the car door. He walked briskly to the front door and opened it slowly. Hongjoong first saw you sitting on the couch and then noticed the headphones placed securely in your ears. With a devious smile, he quietly set down his bag next to the end table, loosened his tie, and quietly padded across the foyer to the living room. 

— 

You were none the wiser to the fact that your boyfriend had just walked in the apartment. Seventeen was blasting loud in your headphones and in retrospect, you probably should have just played it from your laptop, lest someone who wanted to rob you had walked in instead. Bopping your head along to the beat, you felt really accomplished as you saved your final rough draft. Suddenly, you felt something coming down over your head. Before you had a moment to think, Hongjoong’s tie was tightening around your neck and you gasped at the sudden change of events. Leaning your head back, you saw your boyfriend standing over your with a look in his eyes that frightened you but also made you excited. 

“Good evening babygirl,” he cooed at your lovingly. 

“Good evening sir,” you replied, batting your eyelashes.

“Ooh someone remembered her manners. You must really want something from me.”

“Anything for you…” you trailed off as he stroked your cheek and you shut your eyes. As quickly as he was sweet, he smacked your cheek hard enough to make you gasp. Hongjoong tightened the restraint around your neck more. 

“Get on your knees,” he growled at you, dropping the end of his tie and letting it drop down your back. Obliging, you dropped off the couch and sank down. You gazed down at your knees and heard Hongjoong walk around the end of the couch sit down. 

“Mmm.. so pretty down there, sunk down just for me,” he purred, palming his cock through his work pants. You continued staring at your knees, feeling the heat pool at the bottom of your underwear. His praise was affirming to hear, even if you couldn’t respond. 

“Hands and knees now,” he ordered. You put your palms on the hardwood floor and pushed your body up. The tie slipped down your side and grazed the floor. Hongjoong grabbed it and pulled at it slightly.

“Scoot closer.” You crawled closer as he pulled you by his tie and he pushed on your ass to make you move sideways. 

“I’ve been dreaming of this ass all day. Work was so boring and I needed something to stimulate me,” he said, rubbing your ass over your PJs pants. 

“I’m here for you, sir,” you dared to say. You were sure he wouldn’t care if you spoke without permission if it meant you were validating the fact that you were his and only his. Using the tie, he jerked your head so close your temple thumped against his knee. 

“That’s correct. You are here for me. I’ll make sure you never forget that.” In one swift movement he pulled down your PJ pants and smacked one of your pale asscheeks. He pulled them down farther and you moved just a little so he could remove them completely along with your underwear. Once he rid you of your pants, you dropped back onto your feet and he slipped your sweatshirt off over your head. You obviously didn’t have a bra on since you had been home alone for the past 2 hours and you heard him murmur a curse quietly under his breath. It was cold on the hardwood, yet the more you thought about being completely naked in front of Hongjoong with only his tie around your neck the warmer you got.

“Let’s go slut,” he practically snapped at you and jerked the restraint tightly upward causing your head to jerk forward. Crawling on your hands and knees you followed him back to your bedroom where he told you to remain on all fours. He wasn’t noticing but you silently dared him to look over and make eye contact with you. You bit your lip and did your best to look as sexy as possible. At just the right moment, Hongjoong turned around and looked right at you. His gaze was penetrating, dominating, and you could feel the wetness of your heat spread slightly to your bare thighs. 

“Come here baby,” he purred and you crawled slowly over to your lover, arching your back so that your ass stuck up higher and your tits stuck out just a bit more. When you reached him, you kneeled down at his feet and Hongjoong sat on the end of the bed. 

“So you’re going to sit there like the good girl you are and you’re going to watch me jack off as I think of your tight wet pussy and then I’m going to pound you so hard you’ll have trouble walking in the morning. Sound like a plan?” 

You squirmed on your feet, hoping to find friction somewhere to help relieve the wet aching you felt. “Yes sir, that sounds delightful,” you said, shooting him a glance that was somewhere between sexy and scathing. Hongjoong unzipped his pants and removed them with his undergarments. His cock sprung free. You quietly moaned as you saw his length unclothed. Swiftly he grabbed the end of the tie again and pulled you closer to him. 

“Hmm I like this little leash I have on you,” he said with intense eye contact that made you melt. “Makes it easy for you to do what I want you to.” He winked and stuck his thumb in your mouth, pushing down your tongue. You welcomed the intrusion, happy to have some sort of physical touch to focus on. Wrapping his other hand around his cock, he started to stroke it. Hongjoong let out a gravely moan. 

“Suck,”he ordered. You happily did as you were told, lifting up a bit so he didn’t have to lean down so much and sucked on his finger. He sped his pace up and pushed around in your mouth. You wanted desperately for him to replace it with his length. You moaned around his finger, hoping he would take pity on you. 

“Aw does baby girl want more?” Hongjoong cooed at you. You nodded and he removed his finger. Hopeful, you gazed at him. Instead, he shoved you back down to your feet. 

“I wonder what getting what you want is like?” He growled back. “Guess you’ll never know.” Winking he leaned back and continued to rub his dick, completely ignoring your pout. Closing his eyes, Hongjoong let his lips fall open. He heaved a heavy breath. Hongjoong seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. 

You however were not pleased. You were the slickest you had ever been and were fed up. Teasing you was one thing, but neglecting you for his own pleasure made you scrunch up your face. You watched your infuriatingly handsome boyfriend jack off and felt the displeasure rise. Your pussy ached. You slipped a hand down there to give some much needed pressure to your swollen clit. You decided to let out the loudest, sexiest moan you could muster to get his attention. Snapping up, Hongjoong made direct eye contact with you. His cock was still in his hand but he had stopped stroking and was watching you with a penetrating gaze. You continued to rub yourself and made direct eye contact right back at him. He scowled at you and you winked back at him knowing that that was either the best or the worst decisions you had ever made. 

“Excuse me,” he growled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting what I want,” you countered. You brought your fingers to your mouth to suck your juices off. “Is this what you want?” You eyed him seductively. 

“Damn straight,” he replied. “Get up here?” He said it like a question but you knew it was a thinly veiled order. He was playing it safe. Somehow that turned you on more knowing that you had almost won. 

Hongjoong laid on his back and you situated yourself so that you were on all fours beside him. His weeping cock lay flat against his pubic hair. You took it in your hand. Using the precum as a lube, you sped up quickly knowing that he hadn’t been going fast enough earlier. 

“Uuuuugh” came a soft moan. You leaned up and bit his lower lip, just enough to lengthen his moan and turn it gravely. 

“I love your sweet noises,” you cooed softly. “But I think it’s about damn time I started making those.” Dropping his cock, you rolled to lay on your back. Spreading your legs felt so good as the rush of cold air caressed your wet cunt. Hongjoong rolled onto his side and immediately stuck two fingers into your entrance. No warning. No announcement. Nothing, as he shoved them as deep as he could manage. It was enough to make you yelp out loud and remind you that you were still in trouble for disobeying. 

“Fuuuuck,” you moaned. 

“Mmm still my little babygirl,” murmured Hongjoong. He started to pump in and out faster. You were left breathless and clawing at the fitted sheet on the bed. 

“Is babygirl going to cum?” Inquired Hongjoong as he clearly had no intention of slowing down. 

“Y-yes sir. D-do I have permission?” You answered. Desperately hoping he would let you, you arched your back, hoping his fingers would stretch you out more. 

“I suppose you could,” he said. “It’ll have to be on my count though.”

“Yes sir,” you moaned out breathlessly. 

“One…. two… three…” he began. 

“Uuugh,” you began. “You never told me what number I could cum on, sir” 

“Good,” was the only response he gave to you. “Now where was I?”

He frustratingly began counting at four again. you felt the pressure building up in your lower abdomen. Either way, you were going to cum. It was either going to be when you were supposed to or you would break the rules. Somehow a dick would end up inside of you and you weren’t mad about it. Choosing the number ten, you achingly waited for his voice to reach the final number. 

“Ten…” and everything else faded away as your pussy clenched around his finger. Hongjoong latched onto your nipple and bit down fairly hard. The sensation added to your orgasm and you enjoyed every moment of riding it out. Fucked out, you shivered as he removed his fingers. 

“Nasty slut,” Hongjoong said and he wiped his moistened fingers onto your breasts. “Time for you to get properly fucked.”

He centered himself over you. In true fashion, your boyfriend wasted no time bottoming out in your already fucked pussy. His swift movements caused you both to moan at the same time. Hongjoong locked lips with you and shoved his cock in and out of you. 

“Lift your arms up,” he moaned. You obliged and he clasped your wrists above your head. 

“You look so good under me,” he growled at you. “Stick your tongue out.” Once again you did as you were told and he removed his hand from your wrists just for a moment so you could suck on his fingers again. 

“Fuck baby I’m gonna cum,” he murmered in your ear. With one final stroke he spilled inside of you. Your pussy clenched around him again as he pulled out and you sighed as you felt his wetness inside of you.

“Lemme go get something to clean you off babygirl,” Hongjoong said with a quick kiss. He hurried back with a damp washcloth and proceeded to clean you off. Once he discarded it, Hongjoong slid beside you on the bed and snuggled close.

“So…. how was your day?”

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

The Pink Note

Bucky x Reader

Summary: it's important for writers to remember why they are writing in the first place, so you gave Bucky a note, to remind you when you need it. This is the story of that note.

Word Count: 3,880

Warnings: Steve will not approve of this language, hydra, injuries, some angst but this is fluffy fluff.

A/N: I had this in my notes for forever and you can thank Sam here for bringing me to finally write this one. I honestly love this one so much, I love my past self for getting this idea. I basically had the entire outline and scenes in my notes smh. @ayybtch

--

 "Buckaroo your human is here!" Tony declared as he got off of the elevator with you, placing your luggage next to you as you waited for your friend.

"Thank you so much Tony for letting me stay here."

It's a weird thing to have an Avenger as a friend, a supersoldier at that. He goes off on missions and you are left with your normal life, having to keep living as if your friend isn't in a life endangering situation right now, and knowing Bucky he is probably being stupid in one way or another.

It was fun though, to have a friend from the 20s, it just means that you have every excuse to watch your favourite films because he hasn't seen them. He hasn't seen Narnia for fuck's sake! You watched it with him just last week, telling him all about it and gushing over the books because he was listening to every word you said. He just wanted to get up to speed with a world that flew by him.

It was a funny thing, you met him at a bookstore, he was confused and you- knowing the whole place like the palm of your hand- took him with you and showed him the books he was looking for, you couldn't help but recommend some yourself and you have been best friends ever since.

"Ah it's not a problem. Any friend of Frosty is a friend of mine. Are you sure you don't want your own room?" you shrugged him off.

"Bucky has a whole apartment, the couch there is heaven and if I can minimize the amount of intrusion then I will."

"You do remember I'm a billionaire, right?"

"Yes Tony I remember. Seriously thank you though, I refuse to be in that apartment while they do the construction in the building." You let out a shriek as two big hands came behind you and pulled you up in the air. "Stupid stealth spy shit, Bucky put me down!"

He only laughed at you, not letting you go.

"Is this a way to talk to your very generous host?" you turned your head to look at his smirk, you put your arms around him in a hug and smiled up at him.

"I was very nice to Tony." Your grin was intact as his turned into an offended one, his mouth opened in shock. He looked between you and Tony who was smirking mischievously.

"Oh you're just an annoying little brat aren't you? I am offended to my core."

"I am, what are you going to do about it?" you challenged, you didn't pay attention to tony who just groaned and left, tired of your banter.

When Bucky smiled you knew it was over. He just picked you up and threw you over his shoulder and smirking at your protest, one hand holding you in place and the other taking your suitcase.

"Did you know we have a pool here?"

 It was needless to say that when you walked into Bucky's floor you were drenched, while he was squeaky clean beside you.

"Welcome to my humble room!" it was larger than your apartment and he knew that.

"I am going to kill you, but before I do that I am going to go to your bed and ruin your sheets."

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" he taunted as you strode to his bedroom.

"I'm extremely wet, how do you think?" you only heard it when you saw his smirk.

"Is that so?"

"Oh don't you dare go there, you know that is not what I meant, oh my gods I hate you so much." He laughed but you still went to his bedroom, curling under the warm sheets. You knew exactly on which side he slept, it smelt like him, so you made sure to squeeze the water out of your hair there.

"I prepared you a warm bath," you heard him say from the door, you turned to look at him. "Come on, you're going to catch a cold if you stay there."

"Fine, my job here is done anyways. Have fun trying to put on new sheets."

"Doll you know I can't put them on normally."

"I know." You gave him a quick hug before you went to the bath was waiting for you. You couldn't lie and say that you walked there quickly because of the cold rather than the blush that coloured your cheeks. You hated when he called you that.

 It took you a little while but you got used to life in the tower, the kitchen was too crowded way to early in the morning for you, but at least Bucky made you productive in that regard? Procrastination was your go to as a writer, but this novel was important to you so you did your best effort.

So now Bucky woke you up after he got back from his run with Steve, making your morning start at 6am. Then you're having breakfast with the almighty Avengers, which are not so almighty in the kitchen. You were thankful for being able to do your job from home, you got rid of your responsibilities so you could finally be able to plan out your novel.

By planning out your novel you meant making a mess of too many papers and sticky notes with rushed handwriting that somehow was only understandable to you. Even genius AIs and spies wouldn't be able to decrypt your organized mess.

Sometimes you were in Bucky's room, and sometimes in the common room for a change of scenery.

"Y/N Y/L/N!" you heard Clint scream your name from the living room while you were in the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink. You reached the living room to see Clint and Sam leaning over and looking at the huge whiteboard you had on, the chapters organized on it.

"What do you think you're doing?" you asked them, people weren't supposed to read your novel, especially not your first draft.

"You can't just kill her off!"

"Hey, I can do whatever you want with my characters, now scatter because I found a plot hole and I need to work on it." You smirked as the two walked away from the desk you set up for yourself.

"Just saying, maybe if you keep your characters alive you wouldn't have a problem." You smacked Sam's shoulder when they passed by you.

"Keep annoying me and I'll make you a character and torture your character."

You sighed to yourself and got to work, comparing your notes and trying to find a way to make your novel work.

 It's been three days since, and you honestly didn't know why you even bothered anymore, it wasn't working, you just couldn't find the solution.

You've added colorful sticky notes to the board, some simply had song names on them, and some had dialogues. Bucky walked into his floor, he loved seeing the focused look you had when you worked, with your bottom lip bitten and your eyes sharp, you were too cute like this. He stopped in his place when he saw what you were wearing. His red Henley looking like a dress on you, stopping probably a little too short than what it should. He assumed you wore shorts, but he couldn't see and he didn't know what he'd prefer.

"Is that my shirt?" you nodded absentmindedly, still looking at your notes as he walked over to where you stood.

"If you didn't want me to steal it, don't leave it out in the open."

"It was in the closet." That earned him a small smirk.

"The closet was in my eyesight, my point stands." Your smirk soon fell. "I just don't even know-"

You looked at Bucky then, holding his gaze. He suddenly grew shy at your stare. He studied you, after all this time a trained assassin, the winter soldier… couldn't analyze a girl.

"What's up with all the sticky notes?" he cleared his throat and it seemed to snap her out of it.

Sometimes the answer comes out of nowhere and is standing right in front of you.

"They help remind me of stuff." Then you looked at his icy blue eyes before turning around. He saw you scrabble something on a pink post-it note, and then you turned around and put it on his forehead.

"It's going to fall you know." He laughed, which only made the note that much closer to falling. You cursed at him, but you had a certain look in your eyes that he'd never seen before.

"Keep it, I need you to remind me of it," you said simply before an alarm went on in your head and you outstretched a hand as if to stop him. "But don't read it!"

As it began to fall, he folded it and without looking at it he put the pink note in his pocket.

That's where it all started.

 It's been there for days now. He moved the note from pocket to pocket, sometimes you will come into a room and ask him for it, only to give the note back to him, still folded, a few minutes later. Alongside that same unexplainable look which seemed to disappear only a moment later.

On and off missions he still took it with him, always in the pocket in his gear or in his pants. He didn't know why he did it, but it felt important. For such a small note, it felt like it held the entire world. At least for your world, so it was for his too.

 "Hey there Bucky boo," you laughed when he grumbled on the other side, he absolutely hated that nickname. "How are you doing?"

"I am really tired actually, doll."

"Oh no, did something happen? Bucky-"

"No, Sam is just being an annoying little shit." You heard then noises from the phone, you couldn't help but shake your head at their childish behaviour. Bucky finally went to a quieter place. "I'm okay doll, really."

He pulled out the little pink note as he talked to you, a soft smile spread on his face.

"Are you going to be back soon?" you picked on your nails, waiting for his answer. He just got lost in the note, testing he put it against the light yet still seeing nothing.

"I'm afraid it's going to take a little longer than expected. Some things changed- but before you say anything, I'll be just fine. Am I surrounded by idiots? Yes." He relished in the laugh you gave him at that. "But I am a supersoldier, so it balances out."

"Okay fine, I'm going to leave you to it. Bye."

"Bye, doll." He put the note back in its place. And went back into the room they were staying in.

"Man, you're whipped, you know that right?"

"Eat shit, Wilson."

 It's been thirty minutes now that you were sitting in the dining room table, your fingers on the keyboard and you were looking at the computer with determination, yet whenever he passed by you, he saw a blank page in front of you.

The page was mocking you, you could hear it. Locked in a staring contest the computer won when you saw a cup of tea being put on the table next to you, and then the pink note was in the palm of your hand.

"Maybe take a break after this, but I thought this might help." He didn't see the smile on your face as your eyes followed him when he walked back to the kitchen, Natasha however was more observant. When you saw her looking at you with a smirk you cleared your throat and went back to writing.

It's been thirty minutes and he actually liked the sound of your typing on the keyboard, he could hear it from a room away.

“As I was saying,” Wanda tried to get the group’s attention. The monthly movie night is some serious talk. “We watched Lord of The Rings together, we watched Narnia together- it’s only fair that we will marathon Harry Potter together now.”

That caused a new fight about what movie they should watch next, but Bucky couldn’t care less, he focused his ears on your typing.

When it stopped, you entered the kitchen with an empty cup which you put in the sink before giving him the note back and a hug. He was glad the discussion was over when you came.

 "Psst, Bucky wake up," he barely woke up and just looked at your silhouette as the light from the living room shone behind you. "I need it."

Without a word he took the note out and handed her the note, he stretched around a little, still half asleep when he saw the hour on the clock. Before you could get away from him, he took the covers off, brought his hands around you and pulled you to him. Your back to his chest, he didn't let you protest as he turned around to his side, bringing you with him.

"Shh, sleep." He pulled the covers over you and put the note back in place.

"But Bucky I need to work."

"No, you are my teddy bear now, and I am going to sleep and you need sleep too." You knew there was no getting out of his grip, especially when he was somehow already asleep.

Tiredness soon washed over you too and you let it take you.

 You were awakened by a loud crash, you heard gunshots and panicked voices outside and a red alarm shone brightly in the dim lights of the floor.

"Bucky?" you called out to him, and he got out of his room already with a rifle and daggers.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y what's going on?" he came to you and put a comforting hand on your shoulder which you clutched when you saw the smoke that came from beneath the door.

"It seemed that hydra has infiltrated the building, Sergeant Barnes. Captain Rogers is asking for your assistance." You barely had time to react before Bucky went towards the door.

"Bucky wait-"

"Stay here doll, go to my room and lock the door. F.R.I.D.A.Y let me know if anyone is getting through this door."

"Wait, what about you?" it was weird to have an Avenger friend, you were constantly worried about him, but you never saw him actually in action. You enveloped him in a big hug, afraid to let go, but he let go.

"I'll be okay doll, just stay here and I'll come back as soon as I can." You bit you lip, holding back what you wanted to say. Nodding to him, he left and you went to his room, shutting the door.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you tell me if something happens to him?"

"I will, Miss Y/N."

 It was hard to calm yourself down when you still heard everything that was happening between the gunshots and the screams. The anxiety was killing you, and so you didn't think.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, what floor is Bucky in?" you got out of the bed.

"Miss, I don't think that is a good idea. Sergeant Barnes told you to stay inside."

"Please, I just need to see him." You waited a bit before the AI gave you his location.

The minute you walked outside of the safety of Bucky's room you smelled the heavy smoke and you put your hand up to cover your mouth and nose.

Maybe it was better that you got out of the room, if the fire spread than it would probably be safer to get out of the building. You mused in your thoughts as you went down the stairs.

You got to the floor Bucky was supposed to be in, and it was quiet. Too quiet. You hesitantly looked into one to the rooms, backing away when you saw dead agents there.

Okay maybe it was better if you had stayed in your room.

"Bucky?" you called out, your tears watering a bit when another cough took over. You walked into a larger room and saw the fire there, spread all over it. The bottles with the different chemicals were falling from the shelf. "Bucky!"

You just hoped he wasn't hurt. He had to be here somewhere. Deciding to run back you collided with someone and fell on the floor. You looked up and saw someone you definitely did not know, and when you saw the red sign on his shoulder you cursed and started to back away.

The bastard only smiled and pulled out his weapon. But before he could do anything a shot was heard with a shout of your name.

The agent went down and in the far end of the hallway you saw Bucky. Getting up you ran towards him as he ran towards you, but before you could reach him, you heard the explosion before it knocked you down. Then everything went black.

 "Bucky, you need to rest." Steve put a hand on his friend's shoulder. You've been unconscious for almost two days, Bucky hasn't left the spot right next to your bed. The infirmary was cold, Steve handed Bucky the blanket he asked him to bring, he gently put it on you. Then he went back to sitting again.

"I'm fine Steve, I'm not going anywhere. Can you please ask people to leave us alone?" the blond nodded and exited the room, leading his friends away from there.

Bucky brought his hand to yours, finger pressing on the back of your wrist, taking comfort in the steady pulse. He hated you for going out of the room when he told you to stay there. He hated himself for not getting to you sooner. He's going to talk to Tony about improving F.R.I.D.A.Y to not listen to idiots.

He laid his head on the bed next to your hand when a thought crossed his mind. His metal arm let go of you and went to his side pocket. There it was, the pink note, unharmed.

He stared at it, he couldn't see the writing on it as it was folded, then he looked at you and slowly he decided to open the note.

Holding his breath, not knowing why, he gently unfolded it until he could see what was written inside all those days ago.

Give them a happy ending.

He let out a sigh, the words alone bringing him comfort when his mind caught on to what the note said and his breath hitched yet again, trying to process and think about the meaning.

So there he sat, alternating between looking at the note and at you; his lips gently resting on your knuckles in a soft kiss.

He folded the note and put it in his pocket.

 You woke up the next morning. Bucky had his head resting next to your leg, hand entwined with yours. You squeezed his hand slightly to wake him up.

"Hey there Bucky boo." You smiled at him faintly, his eyes fluttering open until you saw those blue eyes focused on you, and it was instantly followed by a smile.

"I hate it when you call me that." He said before he attacked you with a bone crushing hug. He let go of you when you winced a bit. "Sorry, doll."

"Bucky, what happened?" your memory not really working at the moment, and by your aching headache you assumed it wasn't good.

"You gave me a heart attack that's what. Gosh Y/N I told you to stay in my room."

"There was a fire."

"We both know that's not why you went outside."

"I'm sorry. This was the first time I saw you actually be in danger. I was too worried to stay there."

"Well, I'm too worried to leave here. Just rest for now, Bruce will be here soon." You rested your head on the soft pillow again, bringing up the soft blanket and breathing it in.

The next time you opened your eyes, Bruce was there with you. You smiled at him, Bucky sat there listening to you talk to Bruce, only letting you go when Bruce strictly told him he needed to so he could run tests.

"I'm tired, can I please go home Bruce? Bucky will keep an eye on me." You just wanted to sleep in a normal environment.

"Yes, only because I have a feeling he won't let you out of his sight." You laughed at that but Bucky was dead serious, coming to help you when you got up despite your protests of trying to slap his hand away.

"I'll make sure she's okay Bruce. Thank you for everything."

You thanked the good doctor with a hug before you went upstairs. After you got ready for bed you all but yelled at Bucky to leave you alone and go to sleep in his bed. About 10 minutes have passed before he left you in the living room with your soft blanket and the comfortable sofa. Sleep took you instantly. Bucky? Not so much.

He mustn't have been sleeping for long, but it felt longer that it should, he hadn't had a nightmare this intense in a while, then he heard your voice.

"Hey, Bucky it's me, you're okay. It was just a bad dream, you're safe, okay? Are you with me?" the dream felt too real but you were here in front of him, safe and sound. Your hand was cupping his cheek, he didn't realize he was crying. He took your other hand and felt for the steady beat of pulse.

"Stay with me, please doll, stay here." He begged you, and hesitatingly you nodded and got under the blankets with him. He did not hesitate to pull you closer and bury his face in the crook of your neck, his arms circling your waist.

"It's okay, I'm here." But it was hard to sleep when he was holding you like this, and by his breaths on your neck he was awake too. You started to play with his hair, hoping it'll help him relax but he rather looked up at you with emotions you didn't even want to begin to hope to see.

"Doll?" he pulled back and rested his head in the pillow in eye level right next to you.

"Yeah?"

"I just want you to know that," he smiled a bit to himself when he felt the edges of the little note. "You're my happy ending, doll."

He said it as if it was the simplest thing in the whole universe, the one thing that made sense in the world, and to him is was.

You were certain now of the way he looked at you, nothing was there but love and adoration that you saw so clearly despite the darkness of the night. His eyes still found a way to shine.

You couldn't look away, even when blush spread on your face, which you was sure he saw based on the smile that lit his face, he came closer then. It took you another moment of confusion before you understood what he said. But despite the embarrassment you couldn't help but smile back at him.

"I told you not to read that."

 Tags: @callmeluna  @sstanbarnes  @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes @easygoingtheatre @that-one-person  @justab-eautifulmess @onceupona-happilyeverafter  @wipplogg  @supraveng  @bucky-the-thigh-slayer  @ayybtch

[essaysbyciara]

It’s Been A Long Time | Nebraska Williams x Black!PlusSize Reader [Part 1/?]

Warnings: language, smut thoughts (my ministry!)

So this has been in my drafts for a *HOT MINUTE* but that photo of Trevante in high school triggered a release. If people dig where it could be going, I will add it to my list of stuff to finish and open up a taglist. I’ll try my best to do so, I promise! lol

“God, I played this album out…” Lil’ Wayne’s seminal album, The Carter, didn’t age at all. Back in 2004, Wayne was a secret about to bubble over to superstardom, just years shy of lollipops and Static Major (rest in peace). Wayne represented the teenage angst of your time, even though you toiled in the suburbs while he wrestled with the streets. But as “On My Own” damn near explodes your factory speakers, a high pitch ping from your phone pauses your trip down memory lane. 

Message from Sheena: Let’s catch up before the babies wake up. 

You hit the call button on your dash once you stop at a red light. 

“Girl, hey. You on your way to work?”

“Ain’t I always, Shi Shi? Damn near almost overslept. Thought I missed my flight.” 

Sheena, or Shi Shi, is the epitome of a best-friend-forever. You two met in Ms. Grayson’s civics class, 11th grade. On the first day of school, you rolled into third period wearing a Scream Tour II t-shirt and if you were to describe Sheena in that moment, jealous wasn’t even the word.  She stanned hard for Lil’ Bow Wow but her mom wouldn’t let her go to the concert because she got caught with a boy in her room. That boy is now the husband half-way responsible for the twin girls she’s hoping will give her some grace by sleeping a little bit longer. 

“Damn. You wanna gift some of that sleep to these twins, God mommy?”

“Only if you gift me some of those post-pregnancy boobs, Mommy Dearest,”

“Can’t do that. Jarell been having too much fun with those!” 

“Girl, eww. I don’t need to know all that.”

You kinda did. Sheena’s stories were always live, wild and uncut. And the only fireworks you’ve been adjacent to in months since you broke up with that lame stockbroker, Keith. You curve around the airport parking lot as Sheena starts digging deep into her latest soft-core episode with her husband since the six weeks ain’t up yet. In between interjections of how nasty Jarrell could be and watching planes taxi in the distance, you cruise through Instagram to take inventory of what your day might be like. 

Managing social media for the biggest sports publication in the country was not the fulfillment of a dream after high school because, shit,  social media didn’t exist when you were in high school. But it’s what has you just hours away from a flight to the NFL Combine in Indianapolis, sitting in a parking lot, listening to your BFF’s slow burn sexcapades. You break up the audio immersion experience once your timeline displays something else to ruminate over.

“Sheena! Shi -- shut up! I can’t believe - you remember Lisa from high school? She got married ...and it ain’t to Brasco.” 

“Whaaaa… you can finally stop making u-turns in the hallway and snag your man!”

You didn’t appreciate the lowly dig from your friend about Nebraska “Brasco” Williams, star running back, track champion and boy so fine he made both Omarion and J-Boog look like ogres. Your high school crush had you shook to your pubescent core; pretty teeth, deep skin tone and two tattoos before the age of eighteen. You’d see him in the student parking lot with the rest of the football team and you’d rush to your car as if it would go home without you. He was too hot to handle. You were beyond envious that Lisa could. 

“Lisa ain’t do too bad. Her man is crazy fine. I mean, not Brasco fine but still…” 

“Man,  he had high school going crazy. I wonder what happened to him after that fight? I should stalk him on Facebook while I pump.” You laugh so hard, the couple walking past your car stops their argument to stare at you. 

Your laughs break once you realize you might actually miss that flight. You relegate Shi Shi to kiss the twins for you and to send his Facebook profile if she can actually find it. You tried years ago and failed. 

“Aight, fave. I will.  Love you. Text me when you touch down in Indy.” 

As you weave through the terminal, your mind thinks back to the days at New Birth High School. While it brought you joy in a forever friend and the launching point for your forever career in sports journalism, it did bring you one of the most hurtful days of your life that took years to shake. 

It was the summer going into your senior year. Lisa’s sweet sixteen pool party. No way in Hell you thought you’d be there but your Mom and Lisa’s stepmom sat on the same deacon board at church and somehow thought you two were friends; Lisa paid you dust in those hallways. You fretted over every part of your outfit, especially the swim shoes you didn’t want but your Dad picked up at Sports Authority. But you were fretting the most over your swimsuit, a red one-piece with a deep open back. It was sexy for a 16-year-old, to be honest, but you secretly tried it on at the mall and fell in love with it -- especially how it made you feel. 

You fell in deep love with your body that day. The way the swimsuit clenched your waist, giving your almost-pear shape some definition you’d never seen before. Your hips sat wide, your breast placed taunt, just peeking through the sides, showing off a crescent shaped birthmark right below your collarbone. It was Jet Beauty of the Week-esque and it made you feel on top of the world. Something that society kept telling you a plus-size teenage girl was not to feel. You used the last of your paper route money to buy it and hid your secret weapon in the back of your closet until the day arrived. You were hoping to get some boy’s attention -- especially Brasco. But you’d take anybody’s glare if you could get it. 

You were in the clear once your Mom dropped you and Sheena both off at Lisa’s back gate. As you walked into the party, the sounds of the local hip-hop and R&B radio station blasted throughout her huge backyard. So much fun was had -- so much splash and dash -- that the faint sounds of “Knuck If You Buck” failed to erupt a party full of teenagers it was made for. The pool seemed tempting in 90-plus heat but most of the temptation came from the jacuzzi next to it. There inside sat Brasco, his lanky on-field wide receiver sidekick Kenny and Jarell, Sheena’s partner-in-bedroom-bust crime looking delicious in their highlighter-color swim trunks. You were still figuring out your body and the reactions conjured up from the sight of water droplets chasing down their backs confused you even more. But the heat of the sun -- and the heat from your body -- got too much to bear. That pool called your name. 

You stripped off your t-shirt and denim shorts, leaving your swim shoes back by the picnic table. They clashed. Your nerves splashed together like the water you couldn’t wait to feel, battering against your heart. Were you ready for all this attention? Amongst the rest of the classmates, you disappeared. You weren’t popular. People knew of you but didn’t know you, only associating you with Sheena by proxy of Jarell. “My Goodies” came on the radio, providing you a soundtrack and a sign from God. Before you could answer the call, Sheena jumped into the pool. You tossed your glasses on top of your clothes and did the same. 

The water felt golden. Sheena smacked your face with sheets of chlorinated goodness. Too much fun was had by all, even Lisa joined in the fun. Suddenly the entire football team did too except Brasco and Jarell, languishing on the edge of the jacuzzi because like most boys from their side of town, they didn’t know how to swim. Lisa saw her boo in isolation and tapped Sheena on the shoulder. 

“Hey, Shi Shi. Let’s get in the jacuzzi.” Sheena grabbed your hand to guide you out of the pool. You weren’t expecting to see your Mom at the other end. Sheena didn’t grab you to join her in the warm bubbles, she got you out at the angry-faced-behest of your mother. You both were going home. The party silenced and stares followed as everyone watched your walk-of-shame to grab your clothes. You got what you wanted in the worst way possible. 

Your unholy exodus commenced when Lisa’s mom called yours to report what she saw: this red bathing suit too revealing for a little girl to wear. It wasn’t the green ruffled mess-of-a-bathing-suit from last year. She claimed to witness stares and whispers and “boobs hanging out, butt all out.” Your mom got over there quicker than a church shout. She waited to scold you after she dropped off Sheena. 

It was a Sunday School scolding like no other. Tears pooled deep like the one you were just having fun in. You tossed the bathing suit into the trash bin. You were never going to see it again. 

The announcement of your flight breaks you out of your day nightmare. Grabbing the handle on your suitcase, you see a text with an attachment from Sheena. 

Girllllllllllll. I found Brasco and babyyyyyyyyyyy… 

You gasp. Time did a wonder on him in all the right ways. He packed on even more muscle, chiseling out the navy thermal dressing his upper body. Teeth still bright, Moonlight-bright. His Omarion-Pandemonium-era braids were gone, now donning a clean fade with perfect waves. His stance meant business, a lot of it risky. You bite your lower lip to mask the “damn!” urging a release from you, staring at his picture so intensely that you damn near walk into the stewardess checking your boarding pass. 

You couldn’t wait to get to your first-class seat. You needed a safe space to drown in your own splash waterfalls. You beg Sheena to send you his profile, looking to make some more of that mess and she obliges. Scrolling through his Facebook, you see nothing. You needed him to match your uncleanliness. Another text from Sheena breaks you out of your spell. 

Ain’t shit on here though. I can’t find an Instagram or anything. That’s where the dirt is at lol 

You put your social media skills to work. Ain’t an Instagram profile that you can’t find. Nebraska Williams brings up nothing. Such a unique name and nothing to show for it. 

Maybe Jarell can follow him, Shi. 

Jarell ain’t on this thing. He hates all this stuff. You want me to follow him? 

Girl, yes! I need more pictures! I’m trying to find his ‘gram and no diceeeeeee. Ughhhh. 

Damn the “no cell phone until after lift off” announcement. You then try “Brasco”, too many names -- rappers, really--  and a dog company to boot. “Brasco Williams” yields no results. You couldn’t wait what could be hours, days,  weeks, maybe never, for a response from Brasco to Sheena’s friend request. 

You pull up Google as a last ditch effort. The results bring up what only seems to be archives from your now-defunct city newspaper covering one of Nebraska’s record-setting games from 2005. You know to quit while you’re ahead until you see a Youtube video: “Nebraska Williams (RB) New Birth High School (MD). uploaded by Donyell Williams. You remember Donyell as this boy who played too damn much in Geometry class but right now, he’s Brasco’s cousin who's Instagram profile came up on the first search. Thank God his profile wasn’t private. You scroll back far enough to hit the jackpot. 

I found it! @donniebrascowill is his Instagram. 

Sheena was right about the dirt. His posts were bare but his stories carried enough. Enough shirtless, weightlifting, fresh-out-the-barbershop-got-to-show-you-the-fade dirt. You hit the follow button before the stewardess asked for your drink selection. 

End of Part I

[littlemisspascal]

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village. 

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

__

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him. 

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth. 

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed. 

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?” 

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

__

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit. 

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not. 

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital. 

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence. 

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

__

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force. 

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read. 

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question. 

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered. 

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other. 

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice. 

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic. 

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force. 

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’ 

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

__

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship. 

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to. 

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks. 

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs. 

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?” 

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.” 

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak. 

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced? 

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching. 

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen. 

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility. 

It is a guarantee.

Series taglist: @pedro4ever @cannedsoupsucks

Din Djarin Taglist: @a-skov @pedrosbisch @quica-quica-quica @stevie75 @iamskyereads @banga-sama @dincrypt @ohlawdthebirds​

Permanent taglist: @promiscuoussatan @vintagesaph @over300books @chibi-yuki @theocatkov @oh-no-a-whovian @absurdthirst @freeshavocadoooo @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin @happiestsparkleofall @randomness501 @gallowsjoker @coaaster @captain-jebi @leilei-draws @disgruntledspacedad @melobee @stilllivindue2spite @pointy-sharp @artsymaddie @waywardmando @asta-lily @thisshipwillsail316 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @grogusmum @sherala007 @mejswho @uncle-kenobi @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @tacticalsparkles @mandocrasis @littlebopper96 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @kiss-evans @writeforfandoms @pbeatriz @anaaaispunk

[lovenhlboys]

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Tag list form

A/n: hello peoples!! I’m so excited to FINALLY post the first chapter of this fic!!! I’ve been working on it for a long time, and after a few unpleasant delays, it’s finally happening 😁. While this isn’t my first fic, this is my first NHL fic, and the first fic I’m posting on Tumblr, so I’m a little nervous. This first chapter is mostly the set up to the main story, this is reader’s side of things with a flashback story. Chapter two will be mostly from Elias’s point of view. The rest of the chapters will switch back and fourth between the two.

CREDIT: Finally, before we get started I have to shout out my proofreaders. Y’all put up with me and my insanity: @siriushxney @iateyourdonuts @petey-patty @hufflepuff-girlx @cherrylita @immmbabyyygraceee @💕💕And specifically @imagines-r-s ASH!!! Babes, you have been the best and most supportive friend I could’ve asked for during this. You boosted my confidence about this fic and I have no idea what I’d do without you 😁😁

Without further ado, let’s get started shall we!! (Sorry for the long A/N, it’ll only be for this first chapter)

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Warnings: lots of cursing, friends with benefits but like...just cuddling???, references to iCarly, mentions of One Tree Hill.

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: (i suggest having these ready before you read)

Y/C/N/N= your cute nick name, only Markstrom calls you it (you’ll see why) this can be either a pet name you like, or a nick name you already have.

Y/N/N= your nick name, Brock, Quinn, and a few others call you this, it’s more of a playful name. Again, this can be a nickname you already have (if you don’t have one I suggest something stupid (sounds like something Stech or Brock would come up with)

Y/N= this is your first name, only Elias calls you this unless it’s a serious situation, or you’re in trouble, or Brock is being an ass. (If it wasn’t clear before...your last name is Boeser)

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: you have a hardcore crush on your brothers best friend, who also happens to barely speak to you...it’s a slight predicament.

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

(This is set in the 2021 season, however, because of my denial, Marky and Stech are still in Vancouver and were never traded... also no Covid. however the season was still delayed just to make it easier to follow.)

Present (Feb. 2021)

You’ve always been best friends with your older brother, you never had any real issues when you were younger and you were inseparable. So much so in fact, that once you graduated early a little less than two years ago (June 2019), he asked you to move to Vancouver and live with him. He was always so protective of you and you appreciated everything he has done in your life. One of the best parts about Brock being your older brother was the people he introduced to you. You aren’t very social and god knows how much of a people person your brother is. Once you had moved in, Brock quickly introduced you to the team. And with your double major in Statistics: Data Sciences and Sports Management, you were able to secure a job with the team. Quickly, you found yourself with a second family, one with many members.

Quinn Hughes is your best friend. when you met him about a year and a half ago, you hit it off immediately. With both of you being the same age and not very social, there was an obvious connection there. When Brock and The boys  go out, it is you and Quinn who stay in and watch shows on the couch (your favorite being New Girl). Huggy Bear is so sweet and you tell him EVERYTHING, even things you’d never tell your brother. You are still thanking the draft lottery every day that the Canucks received the 7th overall pick that gave you your bestie.

Thatcher Demko AKA Dems AKA Thatch AKA baby goalie is the sweetest and most hilarious guy you know. He is always looking after you just like Brock, but he is also one of the most annoying guys you know. When you’d first met you had the biggest crush on him. You told Quinn as much and he gave you so much shit for it. That crush was short-lived though, once you found out how obnoxious he could be. You still love him, just as a friend. Though Quinn never forgets to remind you of the crush that once was.

Bo Horvat is like another big brother to you. Sure you have Brock, but he’s your best friend. Bo, however, is the person you go to when you needed advice. Holly is one of the only WAGs you’ve become close with. She and you consistently have wine and gossip nights, of which Quinn is sometimes in attendance. Plus, you and Quinn are an amazing babysitting team for Gunnar if you have anything to say about it. 

Troy Stecher is the annoying older brother you never had. He always makes fun of you, calls you names, and bullies you in the loving way brothers do. And he never hesitates to come to you if he ever needs girl advice, which seems to happen a lot.

JT was just like Bo, except he is waaay more protective of you, maybe even a bit more than brock. He doesn’t have a sister and when you met, he made it his job to never see you get hurt. Seriously, one day a guy was bugging you at the bar, and both Brock and Bo were struggling to hold him back when he saw him slap you on the ass as you walked away. 

Jacob Markstrom, AKA Marky, AKA Giraffe (pronounced like it is in one of your favorite vines), AKA your cuddle buddy for the past few seasons. Both being single, you felt lonely sometimes and Quinn wasn’t much of a hugger (despite what the nickname might have you believe). Thatcher had offered but Marky, though just as social, is much more laid back. It also helps that he is 6’6 putting him over a foot taller than you. So during movie nights, or late nights at the bar, he is the side you lean on. Of course, you made it abundantly clear to most of the boys and yourselves that you were just friends. As sweet as he was and as great of a boyfriend as he would’ve been, he wasn’t quite your type and your personalities clashed.

Then there was Elias Pettersson, the tall, skinny, Swedish guy you knew as Petey. The guy who looked at you often and barely spoke a word directed towards you. He was Brock's best friend and he came over all the time, you didn’t have an issue with him, and you couldn’t deny he was funny, and from what you’ve heard he is a very kind person. So naturally, he was exactly your type. You’ve had a massive crush on him for a while now, somehow despite the lack of conversation. And the few times he has talked to you, he’s seemed so perfect, but there are only a few times you can remember. 

Right now, as you're on your way to the Canuck’s break room your brother texted you to meet him in, you try to recall those few times, specifically the one where your crush on him truly developed.

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

FLASHBACK (some time in January, 2020)

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

You, Quinn, and Jacob were laying on the L-shaped couch in ‘The Boeser apartment’, you were cuddled under the blanket with Jacob, laying on the section perpendicular to the TV, your heads at the corner. Quinn was on the other side of the couch, his head right next to yours. it was about 7 o’clock and the episode of One Tree Hill you were watching had just ended and you three had not eaten dinner yet. As the countdown for the next episode started, your stomach growled and you got a look from Quinn and a giggle from Jacob. 

“You hungry Y/C/N/N?” Jacob asked.

You looked up at him and giggled, “maybe just a little bit.”

“Y/N/N, you know what sounds amazing?” Quinn asked, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to each other and you both smirked knowing you were thinking the same thing.

“Spaghetti tacos!!” You both said. 

Ever since you were about 10 and you watched iCarly on TV, you had always wanted to try them. It had become an inside joke between you and Quinn for quite some time as he had the same desire as you to see how good they actually were.

“We should totally try them tonight!!” Quinn was quite excited.

“I’m so confused right now,” Jacob chimed in.

“They’re from a show! They take spaghetti and put it in taco shells,” you explained.

“Ahh, hence the name.” he nodded.

“Exactly,” Quinn said.

You jumped up from the couch excitedly and ran straight to your kitchen.

“Ok, we have spaghetti, spaghetti sauce, ground beef, taco shells, aaaand..... by chance do either of you know how to make good meatballs?”

“You’re asking the Swedish guy if he knows how to make meatballs?” Jacob replied.

“Not Swedish meatballs, Italian, stupid Giraffe,” you retorted. 

“Gross,” he said with a disgusted look.

“Ooo my mom made the best Italian meatballs, let me call her to see if she can send me the recipe!” Quinn said with a big smile.

Quinn exited the kitchen and ran to your room to call his mom. 

“You know, I’ve never seen him so excited about anything,” Marky said with a laugh. 

“Quinn loves his food,” you replied.

“Are Brock and Thatch having dinner with us ?”

“I’ll ask.”

You started boiling the water for the pasta, and you cooked part of the ground beef for the meat sauce. Then you texted Brock:

Y/N/N: hey, you want me to make you dinner

Brock: Yeah, who all is there?

Y/N/N: the usual

Brock: Huggy and Marky?

Y/N/N: yep, so do you want some?

Brock: Yeah, and make enough for another person too

Y/N/N: ok

You figured it was Dems since that’s who he went to hang out with when he left 5 hours ago. 

You continued to cook when Quinn came in and grabbed a bunch of stuff from the pantry and cabinets. “Did your mom tell you how to make them?” you questioned your frantic best friend.

“Yes she did and she sent me the recipe too.”

“Coolio,” you reply.

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

You were almost done cooking, the pasta was done, Quinn had put his meatballs in the oven and there were only 5 minutes left on the timer. And the sauce had about 2 minutes to simmer.

“Oh my gosh, I forgot what to do when they're almost done, she does this thing, I have to call her,” Quinn said with a panicked look on his face. He ran back to your room.

The front door to your apartment opened quickly, both boys laughing, “ahh, shit,  my brother’s calling me,” Brock said as he ran back to his room.

“Why does everyone feel the need to exit the room for phone calls?” you asked Jacob.

He shrugged with a giggle, “I don't know, maybe they don’t trust us,” he said in a sarcastically dramatic tone grasping his chest.

The door closed slowly and you glanced at the doorway where you thought you’d see the ever adorable goalie, Thatcher Demko, instead, you saw the adorable, slender, tall blonde you’d seen all the time, but never had a one on one interaction with... except the first time you met, when he told you that you looked pretty.

“Hi, Petey!” Jacob said as he slipped behind you to watch you mix the sauce, he stood over you looking at the sauce and put his hand on your waist.

“Hi,” he replied, his smile from before had faded.

“Looks so good Y/C/N/N,” Jacob said with a kiss on your cheek, a regular action. 

“Thanks, Giraffe, can you grab the taco shells?”

He grabbed them easily from the top shelf (tall ass bitch -_-), and moved behind you, placing his hands on your waist yet again, to move you to the side. “I've gotta run to the bathroom, but I’ll be right back”

“Ok, you have fun with that,” you said with a wink.

Suddenly, was only you and Elias in the room, and the silence was deafening.

“So what are we eating?” he said, pulling your attention to his bright blue eyes.

“Um, spaghetti tacos, they're from a tv sho-”

“Like from iCarly?” he interrupted.

“...Uh yeah? How'd you know?” you couldnt pull your attention away from his eyes, ‘they are just so beautiful,’ you thought somehow you hadnt noticed this within the on and a half years you’d known him.

“We also get Nickelodeon, you know,” he said while throwing you a smirk that made your stomach flip. 

“Oh, I didn't know that,” you replied, feeling just a little embarrassed. 

“iCarly was my favorite, actually.” 

“Yeah, it was mine too,” you said, smiling back, looking at the way he just lit up your kitchen with his presence.

You both stood there for a second just looking at the other, “So how long have-,” he started.

“OKAY,” Quinn unknowingly interrupted, “so she told me what to do, turns out I have to put sauce over them for the last 2 minutes, so Y/N/N can you just put a tablespoon of sauce on each ball then put them back in for two minutes?” 

“Yeah of course. Elias, you were saying?” you looked back at the Swede.

“Oh it's nothing,” he looked down at his shoes. 

“Ok, Y/N/N you need to call mom and tell her we’re fine and that she doesn't need to worry about us please, Paul says she’s stressing,” Brock said as he entered the room.

“When is she not stressing about us? I’ll call her after dinner, how's dad?”

“Doin’ good, nothing has changed or progressed or whatever since we were home last,” Brock moved and sat on the couch letting out a big sigh.

“That’s good,” you let out a sigh.

“Petey, come here, we’re watching Gossip Girl” Brock shouted at the Swede.

“Ooo what episode are you guys on?” you asked. Brock had mentioned how he was making him watch the show you two had watched about 5 times together. 

“Just after Chuck gets Dan kidnapped at Yale.” 

“Oh so you still hate Chuck?” you asked Elias.

“Ew, yeah...wait is that gonna change?” Petey said with a scoff.

“Uh....,” you stalled.

“Y/N shut up, don't spoil it,” Brock interrupted before you could make it worse.

“Ok well, dinner is ready so just start the show after and we can all watch it together.”

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

“Oh my god, these are actually amazing,” Quinn said with his mouth full.

“I know, I did not think this was gonna taste good,” Jacob added.

“Hey!” you said, offended.

“Y/C/N/N, you know I love your cooking, it was the idea of the meal that I doubted,” Jacob said leaning into your side and putting his arm around your shoulder.

“Mmmhmm, suuure,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Hallå Marky, ni två är söta (hey Marky, you two are cute),” Petey said, confusing you, Quinn and Brock with the sudden change in language.

Jacob, being oblivious to what Petey was implying, just said, “tack broder (thanks, bro).”

Little did you know what was going on in Elias’s head.

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

PRESENT

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

Before that night, you never really thought of Elias in a romantic way. You'd been around him quite a lot, seeing as how, seemingly, is in your apartment more than his own. Sure, you knew he was cute and very sweet from what you'd seen, but up until that point, you'd never had a one-on-one interaction with him. That interaction, however small, was the beginning of an obsessive crush. Quinn was the first to point it out, you started listening closely any time he talked, attempting to converse with him, and thinking about him on a daily basis even when you didn't see him. And due to your stubbornness, no matter how unrequited your crush seemed, it never faltered. You had always thought he hated you, or maybe he just tolerated you because you were Brock’s sister, and you were always around. 

However, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

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

Tag list: @calgarycanuck @suffering-canucks-fan

[eugenesmorphine]

Hi! Can I request for some Ronald Speirs with a women from an enemy side,like a german nurse/prisoner smth like that😁

AN: I have returned. I know, from the hole of depression and school. I hope to be more active, so imagines will be coming out more. This one isn't my best since i'm trying to get back into the swing of things. But, regardless, I hope you enjoy.

First Sightings // A Ronald Speirs Imagine

Words: 2,365

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @ricksmorty @punkgeekcryptid !@hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @valterras @adamantiumdragonfly

It was early within the morning when Easy Company quietly invaded a small town overtaken by the German army. About three in the morning to be exact. Hiding beneath the cover of the darkened sky, the moonlight shining down dully between the trees and clouds.

The town had been converted into a small base, or headquarters for the Germans. Most of the homes were clearly not in use as the enemy had forced the remaining habitants out from their homes. Just a few homes were being used at barracks, and it seemed like the small town hall had been used as their aid station.

Four officers took a knee on a hill whilst using the brush as cover. Winters, Speirs, Nixon, and Compton all kneeled within a small line, close together, staring down their own scopes. Ronald Speirs pulled his scope down first and let out a scoff. Causing the three other Paratrooper officers to lower their scopes to turn towards the officer.

“Only a few guards posted out on a few balconies. For being such a “strong force”, they’re situational awareness seems to be at an all time low,” he whispered. Winters let out a quiet chuckle and turned back to the front. Bringing the scope back up to his eye. Peering over to what seemed to be their aid station. Small jeeps continued to pour in and out hourly to drop off wounded Nazi soldiers. Two nurses continued to rush in and out. Same two nurses each time. Blood covered the aprons and dresses they wore, along with their hands. It was clear even from a decent distance away.

“Looks like that aid station is quite busy. Just two nurses it seems though, got to be careful of them,” Winters stated quietly. To which Ronald just scoffed again.

“Why would they ever decide to side with them? To nurse those son’s of a bitches back to health just to come and kill our men?” Ronald asked. His eyes now steadying on the nurses in the distance. Nixon was the one to pipe up this time.

“A lot of them don’t make the choice themselves. Some of them don’t have a choice. Kind of like how we draft men. They’re people just like us. They don’t want to kill our men, the soldiers do. They merely just want to get home. Just like us,” he told him. Nixon was right. And Ronald knew that, but he didn’t want to admit it. He wasn’t going to, because he wasn’t that type of man. So instead, he didn’t.

“They all have a choice. Just like us,” Speirs responded. Keeping his opinion voiced. Gritting his teeth. Nixon went to sarcastically respond, but Winters clapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back slightly. The location officer turned to look at his higher up. And Winters just shook his head. Knowing that his dear friend Ronald Spiers wouldn’t give up his opinion. Making the “come along” motion and quietly walking away. Nixon just sighed and followed his tail closely.

Speirs sat alone for a bit longer. His dark eyes staring down at that aid station.Watching the two nurses now standing outside as they washed blood soaked linens and bed sheets in old horse troughs filled with water. “Yeah, we all have a choice,” he repeated below his breath. Knowing no one would hear him. A small grunt came from his chapped lips and he stood up quietly. Grabbing his Thompson and turning around to follow his fellow officers back to their foxholes. They were to be invading soon, he just needed to prepare a bit.

///

It didn’t take long to take over the small base. Maybe an hour, and only minor wounds and just one fatal casualty. Speirs and the other officers had been working with the rest of the Paratroopers to take care of the prisoners and organize them to take them to the holding base.

Ronald had been hanging back a bit, just watching over the small process of everything they were doing. It was going smoothly. Until one thing popped into his mind. His back straightened and his head went up. He looked up at all the groups of captured Nazis, and even around at the bodies. They weren’t there. Where were the nurses?

In a flash he turned and began to briskly walk towards that aid station. He didn’t see their pale blue dresses and white aprons anywhere. Even as he searched while he walked. His eyes fell back towards the building where medical supplies had been being hauled out crate by crate. But still no nurses. He grumbled slightly and picked up his pace. Pushing past some soldiers and walking through the large wooden doors. Pausing when he saw a bunch of bodies laying down with sheets over their heads. Clearly the men the nurses were trying to save. He huffed and looked up. Seeing a group of men with their guns pointed at one of the nurses. The other one is still yet to be seen. The nurse with the soldiers around her all peered down at her. Her hands behind her head in surrender.

“Please, please let me see if I can help her,” she pleaded through a strong German accent. Ronald pursued closer. Wondering what she was bantering about. But as he walked closer, the officer was quick to understand. The other nurse, a pretty blonde woman, had been laying on her side. A pool of blood coming from her stomach. Ronald’s eyes widened. As much as he hated the Nazis, and what he had stated to the fellow officers, this was a war crime. And the sound of the other H/C nurse crying didn’t make him feel any better.

“Was this any of your bullets?” he asked sternly. Snapping his head towards the group of paratroopers, and weeping woman who still knelt on the wooden floor of the church. The woman was dead already, her body already beginning to turn ghost white, while the blood had stopped flooding from the wood. And her breath could not be heard. The downed nurse’s chest did not rise, nor fall.

The young paratroopers jumped at the menacing officer. Swallowing fast as they all shook their heads. One decided to finally speak up. “The woman was on the ground before we came in here, sir. We heard a gunshot and some German and rushed in here. The little lady was on the floor bleeding out, and a Kraut standing with a gun to this one’s head. He is over there,” he spoke, pointing to the dead German who was slumped against a wall. His head bent over, as he too was dead.

“They are speaking the truth, it was the German soldier that had shot her. I was next, they thought that we were the ones that had been giving information to you Americans when you first stormed here,” she paused as she tried to look away from her dead friend. Tears continued to pour down her face. “Please, I am not a threat. I had no choice but to be a nurse. I want nothing from this war. They would have killed me if I didn’t. Please, I do not want to die,” her English was broken. But so was her voice. Ronald stood there for a moment, wondering what he should do. She seemed sincere. And genuinely scared.

“I’ll bring her to Roe, he could probably use the help,” was all Speirs said. Leaving the men a little shocked. The woman slowly stood and wiped her eyes. Briskly walked past the corpses of her fellow nurse, and the rest of the bodies that were within the church. Following the paratrooper officer closely. Her flats hit the mud that was outside of the church, splashing up her legs and all over her shoes. She chose to ignore it for then, keeping silent as she walked behind the cold faced officer.

They walked in silence for quite a bit. The young nurse felt as if she was in fact a prisoner. The stares of the other Americans, her eyes stayed focused in front of her. Staring at Speir’s back.

Speirs had gotten sick of the silence. He was one for it, but sometimes it was boring. And with this woman, he felt compelled to speak to her for some odd reason. Just an itch that he wanted to at least learn her name. “What is your name, little lady?” he asked bluntly. To which the nurse perked her head up nervously yet quickly.

“My name is Y/N L/N. May I ask you yours, Army Man?” She responded. Ronald nodded to himself. Taking in her words and taking a deep breath. Rounding a corner of one of the run down buildings, continuing to head towards the aid station where the other medics had been stationed.

“My name is Ronald Speirs, Captain Speirs is what you can call me,” he responded. Y/N sat there and practiced the name under her breath. Repeating it quietly until she had gotten it right.

“You have a nice name, Captain Speirs,” she complimented. Making Ronald’s ends of his lips quirk upwards with a smile. He didn’t even realize he did it. “I wanted to thank you, and your men. For not killing me. You must know that it wasn’t our-” she paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “It wasn’t my choice to be this way and help the Nazi party. Many people were trapped under the work of the Nazis. Many men and women did sign up for the role for the fatherland, but many were forced, sir,” she tried to explain. Y/N was merely afraid of the worst. To be sent away and jailed, or killed. “All I wanted was my family to be safe,” she finished.

Ronald stayed silent for a moment. He remembered what he said to Winters, Welsh, and Nixon. He knew the truth, and he was just an angry type of man. But with how this young woman said certain things, how scared she sounded, how she wept and begged when they first entered that church. It made his eyes open just a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” he asked bluntly. Y/N just lifted her head a little confused at the question. She had been thinking that she was a prisoner of sorts. She didn’t exactly know how she would be treated, but definitely not like this. To be asked if she was hungry, unlike when she worked for the Germans. They pretty much told her when she was to eat, sleep, drink, use the bathroom. It was odd hearing the question after a while of just being given so many orders she was forced to do.

The young nurse didn’t understand the truth of the Americans. She wished for liberation. Prayed for it even. She was still scared she would be arrested or killed. Much like what the Russians did to the German forces. But with the company of the rather quiet, intimidating officer gave her a bit of comfort. Especially from the looks of all the men that the two walked by. The hatred filled the eyes of some, who just screamed out to blame her for helping the Germans. Y/N merely tried to ignore it, just swallowing hard and looking forward. Continuing to step through the mud.

///

When Ronald had brought Y/N to Eugene , Eugene stared up at her with surprise. “Doc, this is Y/N, she is a nurse. She is going to help you out with the wounded for now. I’m going up to HQ to figure out if we are sending her with the other prisoners or not,” he reported. Eugene just gave a respectful nod towards the officer. Y/N took a few steps towards the medic.

“I wish to help. My English isn’t the best, but I am good with my hands. I promise,” she said softly. It seemed her voice was almost permanently soft due to the harsh cold that attacked all of the soldiers. No matter what side.

Eugene just nodded and outstretched his arm to jester to the few wounded men that sat around. Y/N didn’t hesitate, she went. Kneeling in the mud and aiding a soldier that had a large shrapnel wound across the thigh and down the leg. Muttering soft prayers within her language as she began to suppress and wrap the wound.

The Officer had found himself staring. His mind was a mess. He was a close minded, but very smart man at times. Very wise for his young age. He wanted to understand. But he knew everyone had a choice. Though, he wasn’t as angry, just wanting to understand why it made her want to protect her family in a way to help the people she hated. It was a question for another time. Ronald glanced at Roe and back to the female. “If you have any problems, let me know. But other than that, keep an eye on her,” The officer spoke to the medic. Roe gave a stiff nod and looked back at his patient. A man with a bullet wound in the shoulder. And Spiers turned around and began to walk off.

As he walked, he quickly began to feel frustration bubble within himself. The image of fear etched across Y/N’s face when he had first seen her within the church, had remained burned within his mind. This was the first time he felt genuine remorse. He couldn’t tell if it was from how pretty he had found her, or the sincerity in her begging for her life. Or was it both. He hated it. He didn’t like feeling soft. Only hard and just his normal intimidating stature of an officer in charge. He wanted to brush it off, but the remorse filled his stomach with an odd feeling. He thought he was sick at first. But instead, it was butterflies. He hated it. He didn’t know why he was feeling it. But he was.

A story of love at first sight. And he didn’t know it. And neither did she.

[xreaderbooks]

Together

Pair: Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: Reader remembers Hers and Sirius’ relationship until he gets thrown in Azkaban. 

A/N: Hey guys! so I found this in my drafts, I don’t know why I didn't post it but here it is now. It’s unedited but I hope you enjoy either way. Let me know if you have any requests :)

Masterlist 

That night y/n knew something was wrong. It felt dark, more eerie as if all the dementors had been let loose into the world. It had been a couple of hours since Sirius had left. Sirius thought it was too dangerous for the both of you to go. So you stayed behind in the flat you both shared. ‘He’ll come’ she thought. She occupied herself by cleaning til there wasn’t a speck of padfoots hair. Then the thought of Sirius came back, ‘He should’ve been back by now’ 

Back in her hogwarts days y/n was but a shy, introverted (h/h) who didn’t have that many friends and was mainly focused on trying to pass her exams. Back in Sirius Blacks hogwarts days he was a mischevious arsehole that slept with what seemed like the entire female population of hogwarts, and did a lot of pranks with his equally idiotic best friends. Sirius only knew of y/n because she was an acquaintance of Lily and would be the Marauders source of information when it came to literally anything Remus nor Lily wanted to answer. Besides being acquaintances with the group of boys y/n knew Sirius because well he was Sirius Black, who didn’t know him.

They were never close in those years until a moment in forbidden forest. y/n was caring for creatures and Sirius was taking a walk as padfoot because he had gotten news of his brother joining the death eaters. He tried to do everything he could to protect him from that life but to no avail. He saw you when he transformed back into his human self and couldn’t avoid you when you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” y/n asked shocked, she hadn’t heard him, she always tried to be vigilant since the forbidden forest was filled with all kinds of dangerous creatures.

“I could ask you the same thing l/n.” 

“I was accompanying the bowtruckles, they get lonely you know?” 

“Care to share your thoughts on what you just saw.”  

“I don’t know what I just saw.” To that response he raised an eyebrow and turned his head like a dog being confused at what its seen. At that he put a finger to his mouth in a shushing motion while backing away slowly and winking as he transformed into his animagus. 

~~~

You saw him again the next day in the great hall during lunch, you two never really talked if it wasn't for one of his schemes so you were a bit nervous coming up to him. Which is exactly what you needed his help with. The idea dawned on you when you say him yesterday. After all, you help him all the time with him pranks. There was a Gryffindor girl that wouldn't stop bothering you and you wanted some payback. Walking in you went to the Gryffindor table you sat beside him. 

“Come to talk about your findings yesterday ” He turned around in his seat,  a wide grin set on his face.

“Um no, actually I need your help.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “I wanna prank someone, I wanna make it embarrassing and I want the person to know it was me.” 

“Wow y/n, didn't know you had a bad side” 

“You wouldn't know any of my sides Black considering you know nothing of me.” You glared. 

“No need to be defensive love, besides I know plenty” He said sounding all so confident. “I know Your a (y/h), I know you have a book with you wherever you go, I know you at least answer one question in class because you’d rather answer questions your sure you know of and have the teacher leave you alone for the rest of the class or you’d rather be secretly reading in your corner-”

“I think I get the point, Stalker.” You blushed and hid behind your hair. 

“Only for you.” He winked. 

“When are you free so we can figure out a schedule.” 

“Suddenly my schedules all cleared up, for as long as you need me.” The mischievous glint in his eyes didn’t go un noticed as you rolled your eyes, and beginning to come up with a plan.

~~~

Over the course of the next few days you and Sirius had spent a countless amount of hours together setting up a boggart in the Gryffindor girls dorm, you had set up triggers so that the girls fears could be produced and the boggart could appear. 

You and Sirius would be there just in case. Hearing the girls scream was your cue as you burst into the room and shouted ‘Ridikulus’ 

The fear on the girls faced satisfied you enough and you smirked while she glared at you. “You did this.” She sneered. 

“Did what? I just saved your sorry arse.” 

She huffed as she shoved passed you. 

You celebrated with Sirius after with some pumpkin pasties he stole from the kitchens. He promised to take you out on a real celebratory dinner in Hogsmeade, it sounded more like he was asking you on a date more than what he was suggesting but you liked the last option much better. 

Your celebration didn’t last long until McGonnagal summoned you into her office, the Gryffindor told her what you did and Professor McGonnagal gave you detention. 

Luckily you weren't alone. A certain raven haired troublemaker got himself caught doing Merlin knows what. 

You asked him what he was doing there, when he showed up later than the set time for detention. 

“What do you mean? It wouldn’t be fair if you had to deal with this alone, we did this together after all.”

~~~

Those days changed your life. He changed your life. He made you a stronger person and if anything were to happen to him, you would go back to the girl who had no backbone because he was your backbone, he was your everything and you would crumble without him. 

That was why, the moment you heard news of Sirius getting arrested you snapped. You pushed all of your closest friends away, got out of the order tired of all the pitied glances they would send your way. The audacity of these people to show you sympathy but not show any towards Sirius who they assumed betrayed them. But you knew he would never. 

He’d rather die than betray Lily and James, or anybody in the order for that matter. So you left you told them they could all go to hell. The only person who stuck was Remus. He was a constant, he kept you somewhat grounded, if it wasn't for him you’d probably be dead by alcohol poisoning or something. Although you could tell the faith he had in Sirius’ innocence was fading, you still appreciated him for taking care of you. In days where things were bad he would even shower you. It was bad. 

Until one day you saw reports of him escaping Azkaban. You couldn’t believe it, Would he come for you or Harry first. ‘This idiot’ Was all that was running through your head. They’ll be coming for him and maybe you, since most people knew that you and Sirius were close to being married. You hoped he thought this through, and that he would come to you first. Although you did know that he’d want to see his Godson, but it wasn't safe for him. No doubt Harry would be angry. ‘If he even knew.’ that thought angered you and brought back old memories. Petunia and her husband probably didn’t tell him anything. 

You had tried to take on the role of Harrys guardian. That was your right entirely considering you were his Godmother and Sirius, his Godfather. However Dumbledore overstepped and said he should be kept hidden in case You-Know-Who came for him. It was bullshit but by the time you got to Godrics Hollow, Hagrid already took him. You argued with Dumbledore on this matter, even going to Little Whinging and once again was interfered by Dumbledore. 

In the middle of thinking about what could happen and what has already happened, a scratching sound was heard at your door. Your heart pounded, you knew it was him. You opened the door and there he was in his animagus form. Once he was inside and you closed the door, you used your wand to close the windows and turn on the lights in your house. 

“Sirius.” You whispered, He transformed back into his human form and you wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“Hello, My love.” He nuzzled his face into your neck. 

~~~

After you insisted he showered before you talked about what would happen next, he hugged you once more again breathing in your scent. “I missed you so much.” 

“I missed you more.” Your eyes were brimming with tears. “It’s been too long.” 

He nodded, you noticed his watery eyes. “God we’ve become such saps.” 

“12 years of not seeing each other, I say we have a right to be.” He laughed out. 

“Did you find Harry?” You asked. 

He shook his head no. “I came to find you first, I figured we could find a way to ease him into the truth. I can’t stand him thinking I could betray his parents, you know I would never-”

“Of course not,” You let out a chuckle. “You think I'd let you in if I truly believed that.”

“I knew you would believe me.”

“Always.” You smiled and squeezed his hand. “So how do we deal with this?” 

“I don’t know but we’ll find a way we always do.” He looked in your eyes. 

“Together.” 

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

Why Cullen?

Today I bring you a post I’ve been in the process of mentally drafting for a while, a post that essentially analyzes the age old question in the Dragon Age fandom: Why is there always something with Cullen?

To do this, I am going to go through different “phases” of Cullen discourse. My thesis and answering the titular question: It’s complicated, and I don’t think I can answer “Why Cullen,” but “there’s sometimes recycled discourses made about his character through the years, maybe there’s a pattern.” When it comes to Cullen’s detractors, I understand the fact that it might be frustrating to see much content for someone so “boring” when there’s more “interesting” and “well done” characters (though interest is of course relevant) so it leads to a lot of vitriol from both new and old fans who think the man had too much screen time already. Furthermore, he is highly complicated man dressed as a Disney prince, and the “Disney-esque” feel of his romance creates a dissonance between coming to terms with his problematic past and reveling in the romanticism. We can have a happy medium everyone,  but because of what I can only describe as “tik tok thought” it’s become looked down upon to have problematic favorites, which leads to guilt in liking something problematic, or outright revisionism.

But liking things with problematic elements doesn’t make you a bad person.

Alright, let’s begin: 

The first phase truly began of course with DAO with Cullen’s crush on the female Circle Mage Warden. Some were endeared, others not so much. I cannot speak to this phase too much as I was around 15-16 and pretty preoccupied with my high school drama instead of fandom, though I played both DAO and DA2 upon it’s release and followed updates for DA2 before it came out. Despite not being an active fandom member I was what they would call, a lurker. I knew some people liked Cullen and thought he was cute, wishing for more screen time after the game and hoping he’d be in DAI through IMDB message boards (remember those?) and YoutTube comments. When news broke he’d be an advisor in DAI and a romance option, I remember seeing a lot of people in those same spaces rejoice. I’m sure there were also people who weren’t so pleased, but from what I saw, people were happy. When Inquisition did release, I actually did quite a bit more lurking on tumblr despite the fact I didn’t have a blog, because I played the romance route, really gravitated toward it, and wanted to see fanart and such. People liked the romance, liked his arc and how Bioware handled his struggles with lyrium; and found it realistic. Even in my lurking days I did see some blowback on Cullen from detractors, those who didn’t think he should have been the military advisor (which canonically it makes total sense to me why he’s where he’s at, but I won’t get into it here however.) But likely because I wasn’t fully “in fandom,” my surface level understanding of how tumblr felt about Cullen was relatively positive and there was only standard fare discourse.

Phase 2: I can speak about this phase better because I established this blog in 2017. Two years after DAI was released, you still had a lot of fans who loved his romance and character, but you also saw a lot of those fans really dive into his flaws, insisting even that just focusing on the Disney Prince aspects of him reduced his character. There were also more internal debates. Would realistically Cullen be a good father was one. One thing however was for sure, there was a strange them and us line between detractors and fans, and to many fans, myself included, oftentimes the Cullen blowback would extend beyond the valid, “hey I don’t think his characterization was handled well” or “his redemption arc isn’t that great” to outright vitriolic hate that blatantly ignored his PTSD and lyrium addiction, and even sometimes “you just like Cullen because he’s white.” As a POC fan it was a fantastic thing to be accused of. I used to be more involved with discord during this period and I remember a few discussions about this as well. Even those indifferent to Cullen didn’t get it.

Overall, I have to say the air was one where people in Cullen fandom enjoyed all aspects of him, from delving into this troubled past to indulging in the Disney prince aspects of him. It was a happy medium I think, even if occasionally I would see a Cullen fan feel bad for liking him, and feel like they needed to justify it. Heck I even did and still do feel that way sometimes, like I need to justify what I like. But we all come into fandom for different reasons. I come into fandom some days for different things. Sometimes I want smut with my favorite character, other times I want more intense thought pieces and challenging fics. Great thing about fandom is that it’s a bakery that has cherry tarts, cinnamon rolls, or all kinds of pie depending on your mood. Craving a different sweet treat, you can make your own. Or you can commission an artist or writer for something you fancy.

*(sexual assault mentions here late in the paragraph****)And now I’ve been warped back into Cullen/DA fandom through what I am calling phase three, where the general air on Cullen reads as….very different. After having one foot outside DA fandom for a while coming back and reading the air has been different. There was the bizarre nuggetgate and other things with Cullen. Now, instead of accepting his flaws and exploring him there seems to be a lot of revisionism going on, as if his past never happened or we’re supposed to ignore he was a templar. A sexually active Cullen is looked down upon but in a different way from before. Instead of smut works with him “reducing his complicated character.” it’s distasteful to write smut with him where he’s sexually dominant or even just a lot of smut because he was sexually assaulted. (***Now, it is implied that he was, if you are a female Circle mage in DAO, with “sifting through my thoughts, tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have” but this is an implication. I will be honest, it is what I have implied. However, it’s not there if you’re not a female Mage. He was however canonically sexually harassed in the Winter Palace, something I will always argue, even if canon treats it like a joke, even if Leliana tells him to “just look pretty.” Just because he is a man doesn’t make it funny that someone grabbed his bottom, and if you take Cole he flat out says “Cullen is afraid.”***)

So here I am, wondering what changed and what’s going on. Here’s what I believe: Cullen is a complicated character and his flaws and his past make him interesting to me, and they are interesting to explore. However there is nothing wrong with wanting to just explore a romantic, sexual Cullen. He’s a character with many facets. He’s romantic, determined, nostalgic, stubborn, unrelenting, loyal, driven, all things that made him seem so real. Here we get to my theory: in today’s media “criticisms” I see people—particularly younger people—beat themselves up for liking something problematic. It’s like every time you engage with media that’s potentially problematic you have to write essays to yourself why it is so and hold yourself accountable. I see this on tik-tok a lot and why I refer to it as “tik tok thought.” Look at the way some young Hamilton fans talk about the musical, or heck even here, and you may see what I mean. It’s like if you don’t acknowledge the problematic aspects of the historical figures behind their fictional portrayals in the show you’re a bad person. Same thing with nostalgic Disney fans my age in younger, if you don’t clown on Ariel for “choosing a man over anything” (SHE LIKED THE SURFACE WORLD BEFORE SHE MET ERIC) you don’t get your brownie points.

I want to make it clear: being critical of media is good. I am glad I see young people and people my age think about the messages we are given in media, but somehow this is turned into ANALYZE EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. Ya’ll I’m a grad student. I’m critical most of the time, when I come to my tumblr blog’s lawn I’m here mostly to have some fun, and hey sometimes my fun is being critical. But sometimes it isn’t. You do not have to always be critical. You do not have to beat yourself up for liking something that’s problematic or write an essay about why it is as if that’s your due diligence in stanning a fictional character. I’m going to be honest I used to kind of think I had to justify my likes once, especially because of the Cullen vitriol on tumblr. I worked overtime in my early fanfic efforts to try to prove to the world I knew Cullen was problematic for fear I’d be perceived as just an idiot horny fangirl. Well, let me tell you: I largely don’t think that way anymore. If I want to just enjoy writing some smut or reading some smut with him, I am. But I think there is a second part of this in Cullen fandom currently, a revisionism of his problematic elements. Now, if you have to do mental gymnastics with a character in an effort to ignore problematic elements, perhaps you don’t like the character that much. That’s totally okay. DA has many awesome characters to write about and stan.

So, why Cullen? For so many reasons a bit of a shit show has always followed this character. There’s a divide between fans and his detractors and sometimes there’s a divide within the Cullen fandom. What I can extrapolate for now is the need to keep him squeaky clean and safe and away from anything “problematic” because his of past, his templar roots, or the fact that he’s white when there are POC characters with less content. It reads as a guilt associated with liking him. But please, do not be guilty. He’s not real. Templars aren’t real, mages aren’t real, Cullen isn’t real. Here’s my advice, something I learned while in my directing class in college. What my teacher always said was direct what turns you on, direct a story that gets you thinking, gets you excited. What gets you thinking and excited in a fictional world may be tons of conflict and dramatics, or it may be peace and love. Sometimes it can be both or more. Don’t shame others for coming to a bakery and wanting blueberry when you want cherry, and the baker has both, especially if the baker labels each pie, especially if the recipe for the pie has some salt in it and people like the salt. We can have it all and enjoy it all. What we want in our fiction doesn’t always align with something we may want real life. Lots of people write Modern girl in Thedas stories. Ya’ll if that actually happened to one of us it would probably suck. I’d probably get killed and not even get to meet Cullen and pose around the desk to get things going, so I’d rather it not happen. However, it is fun to read about.

Again, don’t be guilty for liking Cullen, please. But if you have to do a lot of mental gymnastics to like Cullen, maybe you don’t like him at all. To that I say, there are many other amazing characters, or perhaps you could write your own.

[skellebonez]

He's Been Hurt Enough (Monkie Kid Cursed AU Fanfic)

And here it is, the follow up to Stop Lying To Me! This went through an overall minor rewrite after @winterpower98 posted some more Cursed AU art and I think it turned out much better for it.

Quick note: once again this is my interpretation of a possible way the revelation could go. I decided to go with a “Mac told Sun everything while MK was transformed last time and that’s part of why he got the stuffing beat out of him and was out of commission last fic” angle. (also no I definitely did not accidently post a draft of the summary by itself when I meant to queue this, that totally did not happen(that happened))

Summary: Wukong has questions, Macaque surprisingly has answers, and MK... well, MK is going to be just fine if Macaque has anything to say about it.

Warnings: mild descriptions of healing inuries from the last fic, hint of child neglect if you are familiar with the AU, Macaque is sightly (incredibly) out of it due to medicine

----------

The first thing Macaque noticed when he came to was that his head felt... wobbly, despite the fact he was clearly laying down and not moving. The second thing he noticed was a disgustingly bitter sweet taste sticking to his tongue. The third thing he noticed was that he laying chest down on a (very small and familiar smelling) pile of clothes. The fourth thing, oh it was a lot of things coming very slowly right after the other which was odd, was that he was completely shirtless and that the only reason he noticed this so slowly was half of his body was almost fascinatingly numb, outside of the warmth of the fire that seemed to be burning in front of him. The last thing he noticed was a very close, also very familiar, and very angry (worried?) looking face of a monkey right in front of his (coincidentally blocking most of that fire light).

"Congratulations," Wukong said flatly. "You are officially not dead."

Macaque stared at the other monkey for a moment before attempting to speak, coughing as the dryness of his throat hit him full force. Before he could move himself, Wukong grabbed his face (gently, more gently than he remembered being touched by the other in so long) and held something to his lips. When he tilted the object and water began to hit his lips he opened his mouth and drank, Wukong never allowing the water to flow from the canteen fast enough to risk him choking on it. It must have been emptied after a short while because the Monkey King took it away faster than Macaque would have liked, but it had been more than enough to quench his thirst and allow him to clear his throat and begin talking. "What... happened?"

The angry (worryied?) look on the other's face deepened. "Should I start when I woke up to you bleeding out over my sucessor? Or should I start when I tried to give you medicine the first time you woke up and you shoved the entire thing in your mouth?"

Well. That second bit explained part of the numbness. And the taste. And possibly why his head felt like it was swimming in that iced cream stuff MK liked so much. He was almost certainly, no definitely, very out of it from whatever Wukong had intended to use to dull his pain. Fantastic.

Instead of voicing all of this he simply said "The... first part?" His voice was rough, but firmer than it had been the first time. He had not realized how almost slurred his words has originally sounded. Wukong' expression softened and. Oh... OH, it was a worried look after all. Huh. Macaque did not expect that. That was... well, not new. But he hadn't seen that in a long time. He... missed that. He didn't realize he had missed that.

"I woke up and I smelled... blood," Wukong started softly. "I was confused, I thought that maybe I hadn't been out for very long after we calmed down MK and you hadn't treated my wounds yet but," his hand went to his side where the bandages Macaque and the kid had carefully applied still held tight. "When I looked around I saw you. Laying face down with one arm over him. And you were just. Just COVERED in blood Macaque. I thought you two had been attacked, I didn't know what kind of demon could do that to you and thought that both of you were hurt." He ran a hand down his face, taking a deep breath, reaching over to prepare something behind him. "It wasn't until I rushed over that I realized that MK was passed out and aside from scratches on his arms you were the only one that was badly hurt."

There it was, the memory of what happened finally came back to him. Telling the kid the truth. The kid losing it. Holding him until he was able to fight back the transformation. The claws. The bite. His arm throbbed, the first not numb thing about his body he felt (though not fully painful), and he was surprised that he hadn't noticed his injured arm laying out in front of him until that moment, fully bandaged and (thankfully) not looking like he was missing a chunk of himself after all.

"MK's been out since I got up. You were completely unresponsive until early sundown, and when you did wake up you were in too much pain to tell me anything. I tried to get you to take some medicine but you grabbed my arm and shoved the entire bundle in our mouth. You passed back out before you could try to eat the salve I put on your wounds too. I'm amazed y-"

"I told him," Macaque interupted without prompting, and when Wuking spun around (too fast you idiot you're going to hurt yourself) with a wet cloth in hand he just let the words fall from his mouth. Why stop them? He had already told Wukong as much as he had told the kid, and the evidence of what had transpired was litterally all over him. Not much he could hide now. It was the exact opposite of what happened then, no more tar and honey returning. Bittersweet and if he were to give it flavor it would be buttercups. "After he passed out the first time I treated your wounds and when he woke up he helped me and then started asking questions..."

Without saying a word Wukong sat and listened, face tightening as he gingerly removed something from his back (gauze perhaps, he had no bandages on) and ran the cloth over numb cuts. He looked only between the wounds and Macaque's face, letting him retell every detail. "Kid tried to fight it but I just. I didn't know what to do when he started to change again so I... I..." He coughed, throat growing dry again.

This time Wukong stopped him, holding the canteen (not empty after all) to his lips again. They sat in silence for a moment, him drinking and Wukong turning to grab a container and fresh gauze and bandages when he stopped. He nodded, going back to the other monkey's back and Macaque realized the container was healing salve for his wounds. He didn't need it or the medicine, not really, but even with his fast healing and sturdyness it never hurt to have extra help to speed up the healing process. "You what, Macaque?"

"I... think I... hugged him into submission?" Macaque scowled, not sure if he even believed what he was saying and not missing the shocked look on the other's face. "And he bit me." He added quickly.

"He BIT you!?" The Monkey King leaned sideways, looking at Macaque increduously before his gaze veered over to his bandaged arm. "Well. That explains... the everything. Your back and arms looked like you were nearly gored from behind, but with how long his claws get when... yeah, that adds up."

"Is he ok?" The question came out without him even thinking about it. Damn medicine... But this only seemed to make Wukong shake his head with a surprised chuckle.

"Yeah, MK is fine. Exhausted, but fine. I treated his arms after I got your back to stop bleeding." He went back to applying the salve, touch a bit more firm as he rubbed it through his now less matted fur. The pressure would have normally made Macaque tense but now it just made him relax further into the clothes he was resting on (which he now noticed were Wukong's top layers and a blanket the kid insisted they each got at one of the many villages they passed through).

For a while the two remained silent, the Monkey King dressing the wounds on the Six Eared Macaque's back. Maybe it was the exhaustion kicking back in or something else, but Macaque just allowed himself to lay there and not think of anything. His mind tried to wander a bit, somewhat toward the kid and somewhat toward the odd reactions of the king, but nothing really stuck with his head swimming as it was. He only opened his eyes (when had he let them close?) when he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He watched as the bandages were unwrapped slowly and the same treatment given to his back was repeated.

"You're lucky he didn't bite your dominant arm," Wukong said softly, finally breaking the silence with a shakiness in his voice that was almost missed. "Or break your arm completely. You'll heal fine, but if you were anyone else you wouldn't even have an arm to treat right now...." He shook his head and under his breath he heard the king mutter "What were you thinking?"

Macaque looked away, gaze catching the still sleeping form of MK on the other side of the low fire. The kid would be exhausted from his second (almost) transformation in 24 hours for a while yet and that made his chest hurt just like before. He remembered the betrayal on his face, so much like and yet so much worse than when he betrayed him by stealing his powers. He remembered how the kid seemed to need the hug he had offered him so long ago at the start of all this as much as he did. He remembered how scared he looked at the prospect of seeing his parents again when he asked about them. And he remembered how much he kid laughed on this journey, how happy he seemed every time he was praised for even the smallest things, how he offered Macaque so much without asking for anything in return even before he put that stupid headband on the kid. He remembered how, despite everything... MK wasn't giving up on him...

He looked back at Wukong, grabbing his leg with as much strength as he could muster in his hurt arm until the other returned his gaze. "He's been hurt enough."

There was an understanding in Sun Wukong's eyes. For the first time in more years than Six Eared Macaque would admit... they understood each other completely without needing more words. MK had been hurt enough. They would take as much hurt away from him as they could.

The moment was broken when his grip weakened he closed his eyes, unable to stay open for as long as he would like, and when he opened them back up Wukong had already finished bandaging up his arm. He noticed a soft pressure around his tail but said nothing, not right now, and he only moved when there was a gentle tapping on his side. "Can you sit up a bit? I need to put on bandages, then you should get some more rest."

Macaque complied, using his good arm to raise himself up just enough for the other's arms to go under and around him to pass the bandages between hands (no, it was not a "almost hug" no matter what his tired brain told him). It was done sooner than expected and a gentle hand on his shoulder pushed him down into the soft fabric beneath him, his gaze fixed firmly on the soundly sleeping form of the kid as he watched to make sure he was really just sleeping.

If he noticed that there were soft claws running through his hair he said nothing. And if Wukong noticed the squeeze of a tail against his own he said nothing either. Eventually he let his eyes slip closed once more, feelin his chest rumble in a soft purr. The claws against his scalp stopped and there was a warmth after a while, a weight around him. Wukong must have laid a blanet over him, but the claws returned and their tails remained intertwined even as he moved to his other side. It wasn't until he felt a rumble beside him that wasn't his own that he realized the blanket was over both of them. He said nothing, not caring about the implications as he allowed himself to drift off into sleep.

And if he, maybe, dreamed of watching the two people he had reluctantly grown to care most about happy... well, he wouldn't say anything about that either.