#this was based off of all gifts that had been reblogged

[hotmencoreplus]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 ‘𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭’ 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Pairing: Simon Riley x sister!reader (she/her)

Summary: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, the infamous, relentless and fearless Task Force 141 soldier. And the particulars of him being the guardian of his baby sister.

Warnings: Talks of war and deployment, mentions of a traumatic childhood, language. Attempted to do it chronologically, but have added bits here and there

Word count: 3300+

A/N: Basing this off the theory that he is mid 30’s in mw2.

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this sideblog @hotmencoreplus for the account, @hotmencore

‣ Simon wasn’t at all prepared to be an older brother, but when he saw you, he knew it was his job to protect his little baby sister.

‣ You were the only one who was fortunate enough to not be killed by Washington, so when Simon was made aware of your survival, he took you in as his own.

‣ He doubted himself at first, fearing he would turn out like his dad, but also didn’t want to abandon you like he had been as a child.

‣ He wasn’t experienced in any way shape or form with taking care of a baby, so most of his days when not on deployment consisted of him watching youtube videos and going online to figure out how to do stuff and take care of you properly.

‣ When on deployment, he left you with a trusted neighbour who he had known for years before. (I feel like this would either be like a man who he would call his ‘best friend’ when home, or an old woman who has kids of her own, that use to babysit him)

‣ He would spoil you the best he could, and make you as happy as possible, not wanting you to have a childhood anything remotely like his.

‣ He definitely still gets help off of google for some things. He isn’t really too good with knowledge on ‘girly’ things.

‣ When home, you and him would always sit at the kitchen table of an evening, you playing with barbies whilst he sat across from you modding his rifle. As you got older, it would be the same just you with homework. You didn’t speak much when sat with each other, though it was always a comfortable silence for the both of you.

‣ Once when in primary school, you came home with a pout as you were jealous of your classmates pigtails and plaits, seeing that Simon only really knew how to brush your hair. So that night, he spent an hour watching videos over and over so that he could learn how to plait your hair.

‣ He felt stupid watching the videos, and frustrated that it took him so long to get the hang of it, but he knew it was all worth it when he saw the grin on your face the next morning as you looked at your hair in the mirror to see it all pretty and plaited.

‣ He also felt the same each birthday or christmas when you were little, worried that the little amount that he was able to get you wouldn’t be enough to make you happy. But 100% of the time, it was just him underestimating himself.

‣ When you were young, he never bothered to mention his own birthday. But one year when with your neighbour, you found out his birthday was a couple days after he came back from deployment. So you saved up money for the 2 weeks before he came back, and bought him a little teddy bear and a bar of chocolate. You also made him a little loom band bracelet, and haphazardly wrapped them up and hid them under your bed.

‣ When his birthday did arrive, you came downstairs to him in the living room, holding the parcel out in front of him. He lifted you up onto his lap, taking the parcel from you. “What’s this?” He asked, looking at it as he peeled his fingers from the cellotape of which you’d badly wrapped it with.

‣ “Happy birthday” you say softly with a smile, and that right there made Simon’s heart melt. He unwrapped the gift, and held the bear out in front of him. You looked at him eagerly, though his expression was confusing to you. “I hope you like it” you say with a slight hint of doubt. But Simon smiles at you, yes, smiles, and pulls you closer to him, placing a small kiss on your cheek, “I love it, thank you Y/N” he says, and the grin returns to your face.

‣ Simon had never felt more appreciated by anyone in his life.

‣ He let you off that one morning to share the chocolate with him, after eagerly placing the loom band on his large wrist, showing him that you now had matching ones.

‣ And he wears it everyday, even on deployment, under his uniform.

‣ And he still does to this day, years later.

‣ He also has a tattoo tucked away somewhere that he got for you, most likely your initials.

‣ When he first joined 141, Price was the only one who knew about you, and that Simon was the one who took care of you.

‣ He knew from Ghost’s files, as when he joined the task force, you were at the age where Simon wanted you written down as who was told when he died.

‣ You were at the age where it was harder to just pretend he never existed. Because when you were a baby, that was his plan. Before he joined it was your neighbour that was put down, just as a telling that you would need to be put in someone else's care.

‣ When Ghost requested the change to his file, he asked Price that someone could go over and tell you in person, rather than just a phone call, or his dog tags through the mail. Which caused for him to have to let Price know of your existence.

‣ He also asked for Price to tell Laswell, as he trusted her and wanted someone there for you who was in the UK more than he was, and in case both him and Price were on a mission/ far away.

‣ He also did it as he believed that you needed at least one female figure somewhat a part of your life, though you've only met her like once or twice.

‣ It takes a good amount of time and full trust in a person for Simon to be comfortable with them meeting you, or even just knowing of you. Which is why Johnny found out so randomly.

‣ You were late pre-teens when Simon was coming home from deployment, and got a call from his friend, apologising that he couldn’t pick him up from base. Johnny overheard the conversation and insisted that he dropped Simon off, though he was perfectly fine getting a taxi.

‣ Simon did message you to stay in the house, but you weren’t paying any mind to your phone, just looking out the window waiting for his arrival. Your own excitement blinded you to the fact it wasn’t the car of Simon’s friend dropping him off, so when you saw his skull mask through the car window, you jumped off the couch and ran out the door to him without a second thought. You didn’t hesitate in giving him a massive hug, which, though Johnny hadn’t pulled off yet, Simon reciprocated, as he knew there was no way of exactly hiding you now.

‣ It wasn’t at all that he didn’t trust Johnny enough, Simon just always felt awkward bringing it up and didn’t expect the circumstances of which he was in, so wasn’t prepared at all.

‣ Soap didn’t like to pry, but was curious and immensely shocked to see a young girl run out of his house and jump onto Simon’s huge frame. He knew it couldn’t have been his daughter as Simon would have simply been far too young for that to be true. So he made the conclusion of you being his sister, and tried to keep it to himself.

‣ Though on the next deployment, Johnny did ask about the young girl he saw, and with a grumble of a reply, he then understood that his guesses were correct. By then he trusted Gaz enough as well, so the whole of 141 eventually knew of Simon’s little sister.

‣ Simon keeps a little photograph of you in his uniform, in an inside breast pocket, above his heart. It’s a photo of you when you were little, the first year he put aside his fears, and took you trick-or-treating. You were dressed as a little fairy, grinning up at the camera, your face covering most of the shot as you leant forwards into the frame.

‣ You two don’t have any proper photos with each other, apart from one from when it was your birthday one year, and you told Simon that the only thing you wanted was a photo of the two of you together. So Simon begrudgingly granted your wish after a lot of convincing.

‣ In the photo, you are stood next to each other in the hallway of your home, you grinning with your short arms attempting to wrap around his large waist, and him stood looking emotionless with his simple skull mask on, his arm behind you resting on your back.

‣ It wouldn’t look sentimental at all to anyone else, but you treasured it. It stays on your bedside cabinet, with one of his old dog tags that he let you keep. You also have another old one of his attached to the zip of your school backpack.

‣ Simon never really decorated your room too much when you were younger, as he was new to the whole thing and decided that he would let you do it with him when you were older and found your own passions and interests. So first off for several years your room consisted of a small single bed, a wardrobe, and littles shelves for your toys, all of which he built with you sat on the floor of your room with him one day.

‣ But when you did find yourself and what you liked, you both spent a couple days decorating it. As it was just you and Simon in the house, you weren’t ever very ‘girly’ so the walls were painted a pale blue, and he bought you some new shelves and some fairy lights/ LED’s to hang up around your bed.

‣ When you use to get nightmares or just couldn’t fall asleep, you would sneak into Simon’s room, and wake him up so that you could stay with him. Although due to his own nightmares, was usually awake before you came in anyways. But there was something he secretly found so sweet about hearing your little feet try to quietly pad down the hallway to his room.

‣ He never minded, because he had nightmares all the time. Simon would never admit it, not even to his baby sister, but he enjoyed the nights where he would have her with him. Because in the long run it did actually help him fall asleep, knowing he wasn’t completely on his own.

‣ He had you.

‣ Due to him being away quite a lot, you have been aware of his job since you were little.

‣ Though when you got older, you wanted to know more about it. Simon didn’t really want to tell you much, as he didn't believe it was something he wanted his sister knowing about, but after so much pestering from you, he caved in. You learnt about his callsign, and how he always wore the skull mask.

‣ Once meeting Soap properly, he was the one to tell you about how infamous your brother really was on the field.

‣ You found it pretty cool that you were one of the only people in the entire world who new what the Simon Riley truly looked like, and secretly took pride in it.

‣ You have always known Simon with and without his mask, so it never feels weird. He rarely wore it when you were a toddler, though when you were first born he mostly kept it on, scared his scars were gonna frighten you.

‣ But the first time he took it off in front of you, you babbled and giggled, and reached out to his face. So from then on, he didn’t bother wearing it around you.

‣ There was one occasion when he came to pick you up from a neighbours after almost a year long deployment, and you were shy with him. It hurt Simon a bit, and made him feel guilty for not being there, and that you had grown so much in the time he was away. But the feeling soon melted away once your neighbour gave you a little push from behind their leg, you softening in Simon’s touch as he held you close in his arms.

‣ His teenage years were the most traumatic for him, so when you transitioned into yours, he became even more protective of you. You sometimes fought over this, and Simon felt bad, but you knew that he was doing it because he wanted nothing more than for you to be safe.

‣ When he bought you your first phone, he definitely made you have Life360 or something like it, so that he knows where you are just in case he needs it.

‣ He would never go crazy on where you were and who you were with. He trusted you. But when away, every night before he went to bed himself, or whenever it was late in the UK timezone, he would check that you were at home. It made him relax slightly about being away, knowing that you were safe.

‣ You were about 15 when you were properly introduced to the 141 team, as behind Soap’s teasing and pestering, Simon knew that you needed some other adult figures in your life. So, much to your own surprise, he messaged you asking if you wanted to come get him from base one time with his neighbour.

‣ You knew that Simon wasn’t really much of a physical affection type of guy, but you could never resist when he was coming back home after a deployment. And even less so now that you were able to come to base. But he also knew that much to his dislike for the public display of it, there was nothing he could do to stop you from doing so.

‣ And with that fact in mind, he knew he had to reciprocate the gesture, so when you did run up to him with your arms out, for a second he forgot about that fact the rest of the guys wouldn’t let cold old ‘Ghost’ hear the end of it, and wrapped one arm around you, lifting you up with ease, his bags clutched in his other hand. You practically squealed to him how much you’d missed him, as he mumbled back in your ear that he did you, too. Lucky for him the others didn't hear that.

‣ Once he had put you down, he very much awkwardly introduced you to the others in a grumbly tone.

‣ When you turned to them, the first thing that they all collectively noticed were your eyes.

‣ You had Simon’s eyes.

‣ Johnny’s hello was an enthusiastic “Good to finally meet you lass,” Simon glaring at Soap, aware of the amusement this brought him, knowing his lieutenant was annoyed as hell.

‣ Gaz nodded at you with a smile, and Price said hello in a deep but warm tone, looking on at you with an almost proud gaze.

‣ Price didn’t know what to expect when Soap loudly made everyone aware of Ghost’s new visitor at base pick up, as Johnny was the only one of them who had seen you before to recognise you as Ghost's sister, though they knew you existed (much to their inital surprise). But when you turned to the rest of the team without hesitance, Price instantly felt an even higher level of respect towards Simon as it was clear from your confident and polite hello that he had raised you well.

‣ Much to Simon’s own self doubt.

‣ One night when the 141 were all at a bar, Price quietly told Simon about how he had done well with you, knowing that he was definitely uncertain of his own worth in your life. But Simon heard the sincerity in his Captain’s voice, and with a quick look of appreciation towards John, he then didn’t doubt himself as much as he had before.

‣ Simon sometimes does mess up though with his language around you, only recently now that you have gotten older. But he isn’t too fussed, just as long as he doesn't hear you repeat any of it.

‣ Seeing that it is only you two in the house 24/7, you both surprisingly get on really well, and there have only been a rare few occasions when he has had to put his foot down.

‣ But these rare occasions would mainly consist of something silly to the point that he got sick of your nagging, like when you begged him to have ice cream for breakfast.

‣ “Please Simon, just this once-“

‣ “No, Y/N! You said that last time. Now drop it.”

‣ There have definitely been times where neither of you can sleep, and now that you're older, you both just sit with each other in comfortable silence. Occasionally just putting a random film on in the living room, but most of the time you would just be at the kitchen table, with a bowl of cereal at like 2am. That is until, and this is 98% of the time, you fall asleep with your head on the table and Simon has to carry you to your room.

‣ When you got to the age where Simon was comfortable with you in the house on your own, you once mentioned to him that the first day of him being away was always the hardest, and that it felt really weird in the house.

‣ You both knew he couldn’t do much about that, but he tried little things to make it somewhat bearable.

‣ For instance, he knows one of your favourite things is leftover takeaway from when you two have one, so the night before every deployment, he always orders takeaway for dinner so that there is always some in the fridge for you on the first day of him being gone.

‣ It’s the little things that Simon does for you despite his mostly cold heart that mean the most to you.

‣ On long deployments, you write Simon letters for him to read. You do message him too, but prefer writing them, as you know he will write back, which you feel is more sincere. His letters are never as long or heartfelt as yours, but you know your brother, and that he loves you dearly.

‣ His replies would often be a few sentences, praising you on anything that you would mention about school or just exciting stuff in general, signing off with ‘Simon’, and a barely noticeable ‘x’ next to it.

‣ You keep every single one of the letters he sends back, your favourites being the ones that he would occasionally send to you, first. And secretly Simon does the same, keeping your letters tucked away in his bag under his bed.

‣ He tells you unless its an emergency, that you should stick to letters or texts, so that he can still stay focused with his job and that if you do one day call him, he knows straight away that it’s an urgent matter.

‣ There was one time when you forgot about the emergency rule, and called him to tell him you passed a test you had been stressing about.

‣ He was about to shout down the line asking what was wrong and where you were until you beat him to it with a loud “I PASSED SIMON, I PASSED THE TEST!”

‣ “That’s amazing Y/N, but you just scared the fucking life out of me.”

‣ “Oh crap. I forgot, sorry. But I passed!!!”

‣ "Great love. I'm proud of you. But next time stick it in a letter, yeah?"

[strang3lov3]

A Learning Process

Extra Soft!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Your whole life, everyone told you motherhood would come easy. So far, it has not. You struggle to connect with your baby boy, Francis. You struggle to console him, to breastfeed him, everything. Joel has pretty much taken care of your son by himself in the two months since you gave birth. Today is your first day alone with your baby boy, and it ends in disaster. Does Joel also think you’re a failure of a mother? Takes place in Jackson, sometime after TLOU

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: emotional, emotional breakdown, talks of giving birth, breastfeeding, dirty diapers, taking a bath with Joel, pet names, vulnerable reader, postpartum depression and anxiety, undefined loving relationship with Joel

A/N: Just thought of this story, thought you could all use some sweet soft Joel :)

Edit: forgot to add this is loosely based on this request from @guiltgoreglory !!!

If you like this story, please leave me a comment or reblog telling me what you think!!🩷🩷

Masterlist

It’s a quiet December morning, the sunlight is just beginning to dance and sparkle on the snow outside. You’re in an old rocking chair Maria gifted you, holding your baby boy close to your chest. He’s quiet for once, usually he’s fussy when you hold him. You’re morose, wondering if it was the right choice to bring him into this world, with you as his mother.

His name is Francis. You gave birth to him two months ago in October. 

It was a chilly April day when you realized you were late, not having a period since January. In a panic, you called Joel into your shared bedroom. 

Those two words hit him like a ton of bricks. “I’m late,” you whispered, eyes full of worry and tears. Your words were bitter, tasting like the bile on your tongue. 

“You’re what?” 

“I think I’m pregnant, Joel,”

Joel sat down on the bed with you, his head spinning. He was quiet, too quiet. But not angry like you feared he would be. 

Jackson was a great place to raise a child, but Jackson was still a town on Earth, which for the past twenty-odd years, has been overtaken by a brain-controlling fungus. There was no guarantee that having a baby in Jackson would be 100% risk free. 

“But we’ll take care of it. I want you to come to the doctor with me tomorrow,” you started. “And we’ll deal with–”

“No,” Joel interrupted. He looked at you with his big brown eyes, so sad and worrisome. “I can’t let you do that. Not safe.”

Abortion is what he was referring to. It’s not that Joel felt abortion was wrong in any sense, he was the last person on Earth who had any right to discuss right and wrong. Abortion was risky, even in the safety of Jackson. And he couldn’t risk letting you get hurt, or worse. He was right, and you knew it. You didn’t need any convincing. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“I don’t know that I’m ready to be a mom, Joel,” you breathed shakily. “I can’t do this.”

He held your hand in his own, so big and calloused from years of backbreaking work. “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he whispered. “You didn’t get into this all by yourself.”

It was true. Joel was the one who did this to you, anyway. He was your person, or whatever you could call him. Not really your lover, not officially at least. He was just your guy, your companion in everything. And you slept together. It just was a one time, two time, okay maybe all the time kind of thing. 

Contraception wasn’t easy to come by. If you were lucky enough to come by some condoms, they were most definitely expired and probably useless. You’d be better off with the pull out method, which was never that great of a birth control method. 

You and Joel would often forgo pulling out, getting too caught up in the heat of the moment. You loved each others’ bodies passionately. And well, your bodies did what human bodies tend to do. They created a baby. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Since giving birth to Francis in October, Joel had taken on the role of sole caretaker to your baby boy. It’s not what you had planned, exactly. It’s kind of just how it happened. 

Joel did his best to teach you how to swaddle Francis, but you could never quite get it right. He’d flail his limbs too much and you couldn’t wrap him quick enough. Joel also tried to help you learn to breastfeed, but Francis would never latch to your nipple. 

You and Francis didn’t quite connect, the way most new moms do with their babies. You’d seen women around Jackson with their babies, smiling and singing to them. Their babies looked so happy, so at peace with their mamas. 

And it made you feel so isolated. You could never console him, never. It seemed like he only ever cried in your arms. You and Francis were like oil and water. Sometimes you wondered if you were even his mother. He wanted just about nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Joel. 

Even the pregnancy was difficult. There was no glow to your body, like everyone told you there would be. You felt ugly and swollen, and you were in constant pain. Francis’ favorite activity in utero was to do somersaults, over and over and over, which meant you’d puke your brains out, over and over and over. Joel was patient with you, of course. You were growing his child. Didn’t press you for sex or make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He’d just hold your hair back and promise you that everything would be alright, it wouldn’t be like this forever.

Joel, on the other hand, had no problem connecting with his baby boy. Francis and Joel were thick as thieves. Francis was silent in his arms, save for the cute little coos he’d let out while sleeping. Francis didn’t cry when Joel changed his diapers like he did with you. Francis let Joel bottle feed him, but refused to let you. 

It broke your heart. 

And it broke Joel’s too. 

To add insult to injury, your relationship with Joel was dwindling. He was there for you, just distant. And you were distant too. You knew it could happen, lots of couples lose sight of one another after a baby. You just didn’t expect it to feel so lonesome and severe. 

You didn’t play games with Ellie like you used to. Didn’t cook together. Didn’t touch each other. Didn’t even go to bed at the same time, because Joel was always with Francis. You’d go to sleep before Joel, silently weeping at all of your shortcomings as a mother and partner, or whatever you were.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“You’ll be alright today,” Joel says sweetly as he dresses himself. He speaks to you in a soft and gentle tone, soothing you. 

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, still rocking Francis. He looks just like Joel. He’s got big brown eyes, just like his daddy. He’s even got the same dimple as Joel on his right cheek. 

“I know you are,” he says, pulling on and tying his boots. He’s nervous too, if he’s being honest with himself. He knows motherhood has not been easy on you. It’s not that he thinks you can’t handle yourself and Francis, he just knows you’re high strung and anxious. “It’s just a couple hours. Tommy put me on the short shift today.” Everyone contributed to patrol in Jackson, and today is Joel’s first day back since the birth of Francis. 

You smile weakly, but wear a brave face. He’s right, it’s just a couple hours. It’ll be fine. Joel kisses your cheek, then bends down to kiss Francis’s soft head. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises. 

And then he’s gone. 

The silence is unnatural, almost eerie. You feel your anxiety in your fingertips as you mindlessly twiddle your fingers against Francis’ back. The sun is brighter now, and it’s time to get the day started. 

Here goes nothing.

“Alright, baby. What do you think, eggs and toast for breakfast?” you whisper to Francis. 

Francis just looks at you and coos with his amber eyes, his mouth suckling on his pacifier. He looks so much like his daddy. 

“Sounds yummy to me too,” you reply to his lack of an answer. As you shift in your seat and maneuver Francis so that his head is tucked by your neck and you’re supporting his bum, he begins to whine a little. “It’s okay, my angel. It’s okay. Mama’s got you. We’re gonna have a good day today, baby.” 

You bounce him a little, soothing him. He quiets down. You make your way to the staircase, your sweet boy wrapped in your arms. 

The stairs are…daunting. They’re steep, rickety, and old. They’re hard wood, but you were smart and took your socks off to eliminate any possibility of slipping. But still, it’s scary. For a second, you consider sitting and moving down the steps the way a toddler would. But you wave that idea off. Don’t be ridiculous.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. You take a step. And then another. Slowly, ever so slowly. Another now. One more. 

You don’t know how it happened. You’re suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, your foot twisted and underneath your body, pinned to the hard stairs. Francis is screaming in your ear, still pressed to your chest. 

You move your foot out from under you with a wince and before even checking to see if it’s broken, and hold Francis in front of you. 

He’s screaming, wailing. His face is fire engine red as he cries. You quickly examine his little body to check for any scrapes or bruises or cuts. Luckily, there are none. 

You do your best to soothe the little boy. “It’s okay, angel. It’s okay. Mama’s got you,” You tell him over and over that it’s okay, but you don’t know that for sure. Did he hit his head? Did you shake him? 

Francis is inconsolable. You look around you for anything to grab to keep him calm, luckily his pacifier is in reach. You place it in his mouth, he spits it out. You do it again. Nothing. 

You’ve got this. Just breathe. 

“Okay, okay. No paci. That’s fine, baby,”

Francis’ cries never let up. He’ll tire himself out eventually. Right?

With Francis still shrieking in your ear, you check your foot. It’s black and blue, already swelling. You try to sit up a bit, put some pressure on it. The pain shoots through your entire body. You don’t know if it’s twisted, sprained, or broken. 

What you do know is that you’re stuck. You’re alone, with no way to call for help. No way to move from the steps. Joel’s short shift might as well be infinite now. 

A few minutes pass as you just focus on your breathing. 

Breathe, is what Joel told you when you found out you were pregnant. You panicked and hyperventilated as he wrapped his strong arms around you, bringing you back down to Earth.

Breathe, is what Joel told you when you spent hours vomiting into the toilet, Frankie never letting up on his somersaults. He held your hair back, rubbed circles into the tense flesh of your shoulders. 

When you were in your long and arduous labor, screaming in agony and gripping his hand. Breathe. 

Breathe. When you couldn’t soothe your son, and you broke down in tears of frustration. Joel took Francis from you and walked into another room to give you a break from his cries. 

You just breathe. 

Finally, the ear piercing shrieks flying from Francis’ mouth subside after a while. You don’t know how long exactly, maybe an hour. He’s still crying, but it’s a different tone. He’s hungry. 

Might as well give it a shot. You can do this. 

You lift up your shirt, adjusting Francis so he’s flush with your body. You guide his mouth to one of your breasts, encouraging him to wrap his lips around your nipple.

You can tell he’s trying, just can’t quite figure out how to latch. You do your best to help him, maneuvering his little body and your breast to ease his struggle. 

“Come on, Francis. You’ve got this, buddy,” you coo. He seems to be relaxed a little by your voice. He almost latches, but not quite. “It’s just you and me, sweetheart.”

Maybe he’s uncomfortable on this side. You flip him over and offer your other breast. He can’t quite latch there either. 

He’s whining, crying. He’s frustrated, you’re frustrated. He’s hungry, you’re hungry. 

“Please, please, please,” you beg him softly. “You can do this, baby. Just eat for mama.”

He still won't latch, but you don’t stop trying. Not for hours. 

Francis’ hunger pangs have seemed to peter out, now. He’s asleep in your arms, most likely tired himself out from crying so much. You worry if he’ll lose his voice by the end of today. 

Your ass is sore, so is your back and your foot. But you savor the peace and quiet despite the pain in your body. 

You wonder how many hours it's been. You try to tell by the way the shadows on the floor change with the sun, but you can’t make out much. Maybe the shadows have moved, maybe not. You can’t tell. Time doesn’t even feel real at this point. Today is agonizingly long.

You rest your head against the banister, closing your eyes. Joel told you once to take advantage of your sleeping son.

“Get some sleep,” Joel mumbled to you. It was maybe a week after giving birth to Francis and you were peering into his crib with heavy eyelids, afraid that if you slept he’d disappear. “He’ll be fine.” 

“I know, I just,” you struggled to form a sentence. You wanted to make sure your baby boy was alright. You hated leaving him. 

“He’ll be fine,” Joel repeated, his gruff voice firm yet sympathetic. “Go to bed.”

Joel helped you up, your body still so tender after Francis’ delivery. You winced at the ache in your muscles. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispered to you. 

You were in a trance, being led to your bed by Joel. It was like your feet weren’t even moving, just floating along and walking on nothing. Joel helped you in bed, adjusted the pillows under your head and pulled a blanket up over your shoulders.

He stepped away from the bed and made his way to the door, turning to give you one last look. Your gaze was still fixed on Francis, unwavering. 

Joel sighed and walked back to the bed, this time his side. The bed creaked with each of his movements. He flipped you over gently so you couldn’t stare at Francis any longer, your head on his chest. 

“Joel,” you protested. “Our baby.”

“Francis is fine,” he mumbled. “You need to sleep. I’ll watch him. Okay, mama? Mom sleeps when baby sleeps. That’s the rule.”

“I can’t sleep, though. I have to watch him,”  Your anxiety wouldn’t leave. Joel felt you fight and struggle against watching Francis. You were so restless. 

“Don’t sleep then,” Joel said. “Just rest your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

“Just rest my eyes?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just give them a break,”

You groaned. “Fine,” you grumbled. You’d give them a five minute break and go back to watching Francis. “Just for a little bit. And then I’m gonna watch him.”

“Alright, honey. You do that. Hush, now. Relax,” Joel commanded you ever so sweetly. “Just close your eyes, mama.”

You did as he said, and he brought his hand to your head, dragging his fingertips through your scalp. His fingers trailed to your neck, then your back. You melted into him, turning into a puddle in his arms. 

Within minutes, you were asleep, snoring quietly. 

Joel knew how to read people, the right words to say to sway them in the direction he wanted them to go. You were no different than anyone else. Now, he wasn't proud of manipulating you into slumber, but he felt it was justified given the circumstances.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wake up to a putrid smell, your ass basically numb underneath you. 

“No, no,” you groan. You adjust Francis, and he begins screaming when you peek into his diaper. The kid does not like being woken up. “Fuck.” you cry. 

It’s a bad one, the mess in his diaper. Francis wails in your ear as you assess the situation. You can’t just leave him in his mess. 

You sigh, taking off your shirt. You set it down next to you on the staircase. 

Francis screams louder when you take off his diaper and set it on the ground. He hates being changed. “I know, bud. This sucks for me too,” you sympathize with him. Then, using your shirt, you wipe him clean as best as you can. It’s not perfect, but it will have to do. 

“Please, don’t cry. Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay,” 

Francis is relentless. He doesn’t let up. You just hold him, his excrement is on your skin and clothes. You’re gagging as your eyes begin to water. 

Your ears are ringing and sore from all the noise. Your back is aching worse than it ever has, worse than when you backpacked across the country with Joel and Ellie. Your arms are full of pins and needles and going numb, you’re afraid you may drop Francis. Your foot is throbbing angrily. 

And then the floodgates fly open. Your tears are spilling, hot and fast. You’re gasping for air, hyperventilating. Francis is shaking with each jolt of your lungs and you try to still yourself, but you’re powerless against your body.

You sob loudly, almost as loud as Francis. You can’t remember the last time you cried this way. All of your frustration, pain, loneliness, leaving your body and washing over it again in heaving sobs and cries. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry to Francis. “I’m so sorry.” Your voice is thick and wet. 

You try your best to breathe, just like Joel told you. But you can’t. You’re gasping uncontrollably and your nose is full of mucous, blocking you from inhaling and exhaling. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again, holding Francis and rocking him. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’m so sorry, Francis.” 

You repeat it like a mantra. You apologize to your little boy over and over and over again, for hours.

“I’m so sorry, Francis. You deserve better, sweet baby,” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I was thinking we’d do soup for lunch. Nice and warm, what do you think?” Joel’s voice is faint and muffled through the front door. You perk up slightly at the sound of him and Ellie, but you’re too drained to do anything more. 

“Soup sounds good. But I’ll make it. You burnt it last time,” Ellie giggles. Her bubbly voice is music to your tired ears.

“Did not,” Joel says with disdain for Ellies recollection of events. “How do you even burn soup?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re the one who burned it,”

Ellie and Joel giggle as they make their way through the house, then both of their smiles drop at the sight in front of them. 

You’re half naked, covered in feces and your face is puffy with tears. Your foot is black and blue and ugly as you sit and cry, with Francis naked and messy in your arms. 

Joel says nothing, just grabs Francis from your arms and checks him. Then he moves to you, checking your body and your face. 

“Oh my god,” is all he can get out. “Oh my god.”

You just cry. 

“What the fuck happened?”

Your eyes meet Joel’s, then Ellie’s. They’re both so concerned. 

So you explain how you fell down the stairs, right after Joel left. You don’t know how it happened. You explain how neither you nor Francis have eaten. “We’ve been here for hours,” you get out between sobs. 

“Oh my god,” 

Joel’s eyes are glassy, his voice is shaky. He passes Francis to Ellie. “Need your help,” he says to Ellie. “Clean him up. Please.” 

She nods, holding out her arms to take Francis. “I’ve got him,” she whispers, before taking him into the kitchen. 

Joel helps you up, you yelp at the pain. Your foot aches, so do the rest of your bones. “I know. I know,” Joel mumbles. His heart is broken into a million pieces, he’s in disbelief that this even happened to you.  

He helps you into his arms, cradling you as he walks you both up the stairs. You hold onto him tightly, the smell of his clothes and his sweat bring you so much comfort and relief. Your person is here, and he’s gonna make it all better. 

Joel takes you into the bathroom and removes the rest of your clothes, leaving them on the floor. You sit on the toilet seat as he removes his clothing. You feel like such a failure of a mother. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, now,” he says softly. 

“I can’t shower, Joel. My foot,” you cry. 

“I know, honey’. I’ve got you,” his voice is so quiet, so gentle. “Just for a minute. Just let me rinse you, that’s all.”

Joel lifts you up slowly, being extra conscious of your foot, then lifts you into the tub. He pulls the leg of your injured foot over his hip and wraps one of his strong arms around your waist as he uses the other to turn on the warm water. 

He removes the showerhead and rinses your body, watching all of the dirt and grime leave your skin. Then he places the showerhead back in its spot and switches the water to come out of the bath spout. 

He maneuvers you in his arms to sit down against him in the bath. Your back is pressed to his chest as the warm water begins to fill the bathtub. All that can be heard is the sound of rushing water and your quiet sobbing. 

“Shh,” he hushes you. “It’s okay, now. I’m here. You’re safe,”

“Joel,” you cry, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I know. I know,” he murmurs. 

He holds you like that as the water fills, your sobs are beginning to die down. Joel leans forward to shut the water off once the tub is full, then grabs a rag and some soap to clean your body. 

Only now does it hit you that this is the first he’s seen you fully since giving birth to his child. You look so different now. You curl up, bringing your knees to your chest. 

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers as he pushes your knees back down. “I only wanna help you, sweetheart. Let me take care of you now.”

He scrubs your body gently, washing away the disaster of a morning you and Francis shared. He can sense your insecurity still. “So beautiful,” he breathes. He’s so delicate with his movements, washing you so tenderly. So full of love and care. “Always been so beautiful, mama.”

You relax into his touch, your head resting on his chest. He’s so warm. So comforting. He feels like home. He tilts your chin up so your eyes can meet his own, so deep and dark. His fingers trace your features, your chin and your lips and your nose. Your eyes well with tears again. 

“I’m so sorry, Joel,” 

“What for, honey?”

“Today. Francis,”

“Hey, now,” he says. “Wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, though,” You shake your head slightly, your bottom lip is wobbling. “I’m such a terrible mom, Joel. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Joel’s eyes fill with tears, they begin to fall down his cheeks. “You’re not a terrible mom,” he hushes you with a broken voice. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.”

Of course, he knows why you think that. He’s been a little overbearing with Francis, not giving you the opportunity to learn to parent the way he should have. “You’re new to this, honey. That’s all,”

You mumble something under your breath, Joel doesn’t hear. All he hears are your quiet whimpers and sniffles as you stare deep into his eyes. He’s never looked so raw before. 

Some silence passes, and finally he speaks. 

“Sarah was an early walker,” he begins. 

Your brows furrow. Joel rarely talks about Sarah, even now. 

“Once she began wobblin’ on those little legs of hers, I knew she’d be trouble. She’s the reason Tommy and I built a fence,” Joel recounted. “You know why?”

“Why?” you whispered. 

“Well, she was an escape artist,” he says. “I’d be out there, doin’ yardwork or grillin’. She’d be in her sandbox, building little castles and whatnot. I thought she was, at least.” Joel pauses for a second, looking away wistfully. 

Joel continues, smiling now. “Anyway. I’d look back to check on her, and poof. She’s gone. And I’d look across the street, and she’s makin’ friends with the Adlers. Workin’ her charm with them into givin’ her cookies and ice cream. She did it all the time,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Constantly. She did it constantly,” Joel replies. “Girl was trouble. Nothin’ but trouble. So Tommy and I built that fence to keep her from escapin’. ‘Course, didn’t stop Mr. and Mrs. Adler from sneakin’ her treats before dinner.” Joel chuckled at the memory. You did too. 

“She sounds so sweet, Joel,” you say. 

“She was,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He’s quiet again for a moment, remembering. “I was runnin’ her a bath one night. Right after she learned to walk, you know? And I’m focused on the water, makin’ sure it’s not too hot and not too cold. She’d kick up a fuss if the temperature wasn’t to her liking. Like, exactly. Had to be perfect.”

You smile. Joel is such a wonderful storyteller, you could listen to him talk all day long. 

“Didn’t even notice her leave the bathroom. Thought she was right behind me. I just heard her tumble down the stairs, screamin’ and cryin’. Tommy grabbed her, drove us to the hospital,”

You nod quietly. 

“So they run tests on her, of course. She’s charmin’ the nurse into giving her suckers and toys. She was fine, thank the lord. No bruises, no scratches. Just fine,”

“That sounds so scary, Joel,” “It was. Terrifying. I cried like a baby the whole night thinkin’ I hurt my little girl,” he says. “But you know what the nurse told me?”

“What’s that?”

“She said that babies are rubber. They’re tough. Resilient. Our little boy is resilient too, you know,” 

You look away from him, picking at your fingernails. The guilt is eating you again. 

“You’re new to this, mama. Go easy on yourself, for christsake. You just had him two damn months ago,”

You barely reply, just kind of mumble. You don’t know how to respond. 

“Hey, look at me,” he tilts your chin and to stare into your eyes. He’s deadly serious. “You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re doin’ fine, mama. Shit happens.”

You still can’t speak. His words help, but it was still a terrible day. Maybe one day you won’t hurt over it. He understands, not forcing you to say anything. 

He just finishes washing your body, then dries you off and wraps you in a towel. He carries you into bed, promising you that he’ll get the town doctor over later to check on your foot. There’s a sandwich waiting for you on your bedside table. Ellie. Such a sweet girl. 

Joel leaves you to clean the mess of your clothes in the bathroom and at the stairs, and you eat your sandwich. You feel so much better getting some food in your system. 

After finishing your sandwich, you hear tapping at the door. “Can we come in? It’s me and Francis,” Ellie says. 

“Yeah, El. Come in,”

Ellie tiptoes in with Francis, his hair is wild and curly. Just like Joel’s. His eyes are big and lost. Ellie looks fatigued. “He didn’t like the bath very much,” she says. “But I did give him a bottle.”

“I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble,” you reply. “He can be a little cranky. Thanks for feeding him, El. You’re so good with him.”

“Yeah, I can handle him. We’re best friends,” she says. You can see in her face that she’s exhausted, though. “Right, Frankie?”

You smile softly, holding out your arms. Ellie places him in your hold gently, being extra careful to support his head and neck. She can see the worry on your face. You still feel so unsure of holding him, being responsible for him.  

“Guess what?” 

You look up at her. “What?” You bounce Francis softly.  

“I’m gonna teach him how to say fuck. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” she giggles, that signature smirk on her face. Her eyes are so playful and bright. “And I’m gonna teach him the other ones too. Bitch, ass, asshole, shit, dick, cun-” 

“Don’t you dare corrupt my son, you little shit,” A deep voice interrupts. It’s Joel, standing at the doorway. “Don’t need two demented kids in this house. You’re more than enough.”

“Hey!” Ellie gasps, feigning offense. Ellie sits down on the bed as Joel walks towards her. “I’ll teach your kid whatever words I want, old man. And I’m not demented,” She punches him in the arm playfully. “You are.”

Joel just rolls his eyes, shaking his head. 

You meet his gaze, smiling at him quietly. Francis is asleep in your arms, mumbling and cooing softly. He’s so sweet like this. 

Joel takes Francis from your arms, places him in his crib. Joel looks at Ellie. “Out,” he says. “Mama needs to sleep.”

Ellie gets up to leave, not before giving you a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around the girl, she’s such a good big sister to your baby boy. She doesn’t often hug you, so it’s a welcome surprise. 

Joel meets you on the bed, pulling you close to his body. You rest your head on his chest as he plays with your hair. “Get some sleep, honey,”

You yawn, melting into his body. “Okay, daddy,”

He feels like home.

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers@angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @jazzy-music-cat @anoverhwhelmingdin @dontatmethebeasts @venus122idkpleaze @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane

[goodomensafterdark]

Feature Fic Fursday!

FFF - Feature Fic Fursday!

This is a special day of the week: fic recs Thursday (pronounced à la Française)!

Each week, we will browse the Good Omens After Dark official AO3 collection, choose a tag and promote the fics that are featured in it!

Have a tag idea for the next week? Comment it!

Have other fic recs, or your own fic would qualify for the tag? Reblog and throw in the link!

Tag of the week:

For WAMEN WEEK, I have chosen: all the 'She/her pronouns' tags present in the collection!

This includes:

‘She/her Pronouns for Crowley’

‘She/her Pronouns for Aziraphale’

‘She/her Pronouns for Beelzebub’

‘She/her Pronouns for Shax’

‘She/her Pronouns for Uriel’

‘She/her Pronouns for Nanny Ashtoreth’

Promotion time:

Queen Of Hell by OneDapperCat

Rating: Explicit

Genres: Angst, Angst/Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word count: 89,666 words

Chapter count: 33 chapters (completed)

CW: Minor discussion of prior non-con, minor gore, domestic violence

Summary: With Aziraphale on his way back to Heaven, and Crowley having been unable to tell him what he saw in Gabriel’s file about a new Armageddon, Crowley decides he needs to make a sacrifice to stop what is coming. He returns to Hell, planning to talk his way onto the Dark Council, but Satan has a different proposition.

Nanny Likes to Watch You Eat by Depressedpenguin2, a gift for DisastrousLook5116

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Plot What Plot

Word count: 1,464 words

Chapter count: one-shot

Summary: Sexy times between the Ineffable Wives. Food is involved.

Dance Our Night Away by Kotias

Rating: General Audiences

Genre: songfic (based on Frank Sinatra's 'Polka dots and Moonbeans')

Word count: 2,172 words

Chapter count: one-shot

Summary: 1944, 29th of February - leap year. Crowley and Aziraphale are invited to a ballroom dance party, and will dance- but angels don't dance, do they?

Snex on a Plane by FuzzyGoblin

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Plot What Plot

Word count: 1,855 words

Chapter count: one-shot

Summary: Aziraphale is feeling peckish and she prefers to do things the human way. On board a plane with a hidden stowaway, Aziraphale gets more than she bargained for on her quest for a decent meal.

Thou Shall Not by Depressedpenguin2

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Plot What Plot

Word count: 836 words

Chapter count: one-shot

Summary: Sexy time for Beelzebub and Gabriel -married couple, tentacles are involved.

Infernal Tango by isiaiowin

Rating: Explicit

Genre: A plot exists!

Word count: 7,691 words

Chapter count: one-shot

Summary: After Shax accidentally revealed to Furfur that she could dance the Tango, he planned a grand gesture to sweep her off her feet, resulting in a night of fiery passion.

The Stag and The Scale by isiaiowin

Rating: Mature

Genre: Romance

Word count: 29,679 words

Chapter count: 6 chapters (8 planned)

Summary: Ineffable games reach far and wide. Follow the Demon Furfur and his Angel Justice as memories of the past resurface while they try to find a way to be together. Heaven and Hell have other plans, so will this be their new beginning, or is it the beginning of the end?

Show You Something by whatareyou42

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Slow burn

Word count: 115,618 words

Chapter count: 24 chapters (completed)

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley were spending time together one night and Crowley had an idea, something to show Aziraphale, mostly for laughs, or so he thinks. Could this be a key in helping them fix things after Aziraphale leaves for Heaven?

BYE LOSERZZZZZ

[sentientfunfetti]

What if reader gave dollhouse!Wally a cute little box with a clay heart inside it? Like, "here's my heart, for you" kinda thing.

“giving you my heart” a dollhouse! wally/reader drabble

(dollhouse!wally and his au belongs to @/itskorrychang on twitter! go support them!)

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED!

-

-

it had been a few weeks since you and wally had been seeing each other. time seemed to move a bit slower in the neighborhood, but you associated that with the bliss of being utterly comfortable where you were. when you had moved to the neighborhood, you were off-put by how quiet it was. from what you were told it was a bustling community full of games, jokes being told, pies and other baked good being baked and other types of fun…

but, when you arrived it was quiet. too quiet. it was unnerving say the least.

then you met the only resident. wally darling. as eerie as he was there was always a level of endearment to it. wally seemed harmless, just a tad socially inept. on your first day he invited you over for tea in his home, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the rows after rows of dolls he had.

“oh…those? i made them myself…”

he said it as if it wasn’t a big deal. his level of craftsmanship wasn’t lost on even you, who had no idea how to make anything like that. they were so pretty…and he seemed to appreciate your enthusiasm and compliments, even going as far as to make one of you. most people would have found that creepy…especially with how many details of you he had captures on such a small base, even going as far as to point out his favorite ones.

least to say, you were swooned. head over heels for him, and you wanted to show your appreciation for both his hospitality and for you to express you feelings for him. your crafting skills were…limited least to say. the only thing you could wrap your head around besides from drawing was clay, and so you spent all night making a heart shaped…object…for wally, even going out to find a cute box to paint over for the heart shaped ‘thing’ to be held in.

looking down at the box in your hands as you make your trek to wally’s house, you couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious about how he’d feel about it. there was no doubt about it; wally’s skill level was leaps and bounds above your’s, so that left one question: would he even accept your gift? you could only hope not.

…you weren’t even able to get your fingerprints off of it like most people are able to.

pushing all of that aside, you were already at his doorstep seemingly within a blink of an eye, and now all there was to do was knock. you lifted your arm up stiffly and knocked.

“coming.” he announced through the door, and you heard his footsteps approaching. you jumped when he opened the door, his usual lax smile on his face. you quickly hid his present behind your back without thinking. “ah, neighbor. you’re a bit early today…” you smile the best smile you could muster and giggled. “well, i wanted to come and see you early this time! i hope that’s okay…” you watch his lazy grin grow and your face warms. despite you at first being apprehensive to him, you quickly found out that he was just as kind as any other person.

“oh, neighbor. you know that my doors are always open. all you need to do is call or knock and if i’m able, and available, then you’re always welcome…” he responded lowly, standing in his doorway. his words were sweet, but they did nothing to soothe your already growing anxiety. it bubbled up in you just like before. “…thank you, wally…i really appreciate that.”

he responded with a nod, before stepping aside and motioning for you to come in. “anything for you, lovely.”

the pet name made your heart swell, as you stepped inside, making sure to angle yourself so that he wouldn’t be able to see the box you had in your hands. you hear the door click closed, the lock following. he turned to you with an eyebrow raised. “…neighbor…” he put a hand on his face, amused with the fact you were so obviously hiding something behind your back. “what’s that you’ve got there…?” he inquired, pointing, and you felt yourself shrink, your eyes shifting to the floor.

“o-oh…well…uhm…” his gaze was intense now. he was looking for your answer in your body language due to the now lack of eye contact between the both of you. “yes, precious?” he urged you to continue, leaning down a tad to be eye level with you. your eyes were glued to the floor, however. after a bit of silence, you suck in a breath and tap your foot on the floorboards underneath your feet. you stay silent for a moment, the only thing filling the silence is the sound of wally’s large grandfather clock ticking away every second you weren’t speaking. “i…i uhm…made you something…” you finally mumbled under your breath, your eyes flicking up to him for a moment.

“what was that, dear? i couldn’t quite hear you. you were mumbling.” you couldn’t tell if wally was teasing you or being serious. he did have a tendency to do that accidentally…only occasionally doing it on purpose when he realized what he said had affected you. he stood back to his original height and waited for your response, his intense gaze still on you, making you feel just a bit smaller than usual. you repeat yourself, a bit louder. “i made you something, wally.”

“is that so?” his smile widened, and he outstretched his arms. “can i see what you’ve made me? if you made it i’m sure it’s lovely.” you shake your head, and take a step back, chewing on your bottom lip. eyes back on the floor. “it’s not that good, really. it’s really not as good as the stuff you make so…”

“…so…what, precious…?” there was a dangerous edge to his voice you couldn’t quite place a finger on. you knew he probably didn’t mean for it to startle you, but you felt yourself shrink into yourself just a bit more at it. wally seemed to notice, and you watched his shoulders lax. he quickly corrects. you forget that he had an edge to him at times. that’s what being alone for so long will do to people, you think.

“it’s alright. really. i’m sure whatever you’ve made me is just as nice as you are. as nice as you have been.”

you look up and into at his red orbs and let out a bitter chuckle. “you’re only saying that because you’re curious.” you respond, raising an eyebrow at him. he shrugs off your accusation with the same smile as before. “can you blame me? my favorite neighbor—“ only neighbor. you don’t correct. you don’t dare. “— visits me with a gift, and now doesn’t want me to see it? who wouldn’t be curious?” dammit. he had a good point. you were stumped, and running out of energy to fight, so with a sigh you revealed the small box from behind your back. your face burned as soon as you saw wally’s eyes train on the small box in your hands. he hummed, before taking it away from you, your arms falling limply to your sides as you counted away the seconds until doomsday.

…okay…maybe doomsday was a bit overdramatic…but if he didn’t like it you would most definitely be thinking about that for the next few weeks. definitely. you mentally crossed your fingers, and let out a weak ‘surprise’ as you watched him open the box, his intense gaze fixing onto the smaller object inside.

he was silent. dead silent. so silent in fact that you were sure you didn’t even see him take another breath in. his chest stopped rising and falling as his intense gaze softened for a moment. “…see? i told you it wasn’t as good as the stuff you make—“ your hand clamps around your forearm for comfort as your shift.

“gods, i’m sorry wally—“

“…oh…neighbor it’s…this is…!” he looked up at you from the box in his hands with glazed over eyes. tears threatening to spill. he looked back down and plucked the small heart shaped clay piece out of the confines of the box and let out a shaky breath. “…it’s…it’s perfect…” he moved over to the table next to the front door and deposited the box in order to hold the heart in the palms of his hands, as if it was the most precious gem. as if it was made of glass and one drop would threaten to break it. you stood there…confused…almost shocked.

“…it is…? i mean i just like—“ you immediately begin to backpedal. you had never seen wally so passionate before except a few times, so this was almost scary. you weren’t even able to get your fingerprints off the damn thing, much less make the shape look uniform.

“yes. yes. it’s…it’s so cute…and…you made it for me? did you really, neighbor…?” wally asked, looking at you with a warm smile. “it’s wonderful. thank you. you even put my initials on it…” he outstretched a palm and pointed to the small detail, utterly infatuated. sometimes you forgot his eye for small details. you felt like a ant under a magnifying glass. studied.

you laugh and blush, rubbing the back of your neck. “oh…well. ya know…didn’t want it to get lost…!” at that, wally let out a warm chuckle, and a sniffle, regaining his composure as he continued on. “well, i assure you neighbor, the detail is appreciated…and i won’t be losing this anytime soon.” he took a step closer.

“…no…in fact…i’ll be keeping it close. as close as i can…” his voice was hushed, his grin wide and his eyes narrowing with it. you swallow thickly, face red. was he talking about you…or the gift? stars, which one was less likely to make you explode? “i’m…i’m glad.” was all you were able to muster out. wally didn’t miss a beat, however, leaning a bit again to catch your gaze, gift still in his hands. his hand went to cup your cheek, and you swore you could see a glint in his eye. “why are you so red, precious? aren’t i supposed to be the flustered one here?” his thumb stroked your cheek. yep. he was definitely doing it on purpose this time. you huff and put your hands on your hips. “listen here, if this is how you’re gonna react every time i give you a gift, this may be your last one, buster.” you turn your back to him and begin to walk towards the dining room to have a seat, pulling away from his touch, but the ghost of it was still there.

“precious.”

he called out, and you turned to see him now holding the heart in-between his thumb and forefinger to where you could see it; a mischievous glint in his red eyes. you shuddered and narrowed your eyes at him. “…what…?” you spat playfully.

“…was this you giving me your heart?”

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

thank you for the request, neighbor! it was such a sweet one. i really enjoyed writing this one.

i also have a few things to go over, actually:

firstly, i’d like to thank you all for the requests and the likes and the follows! i’m really surprised i’ve been getting the attention i’ve been getting. thank you all for that.

secondly, i’d like to ask for a few things if that’s alright.

1) reblogs. self explanatory. likes don’t really do anything for me traction-wise as you may or may not know and i’d like for more people to be able to see my things!

2) can you all pretty please be more specific with the things you’d like for me to write? if you just send me a prompt and not specifically state that you’d like headcanons, or a drabble then i have no idea what you’d like.

3) more feedback. i want to grow as an author so criticism is of course encouraged and welcomed.

besides from that, ill be working on my reboot wally fanfiction over on ao3 and the requests i have lined up for me at the moment. thank you guys for the support. it means a bunch./gen

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Today, Israeli forces went into a hospital in Jenin (it's not in Gaza, there is no border fence between Israel and Jenin, there are no security measures other than getting intel and pre-emptively stopping terrorist attacks) in order to eliminate several Hamas terrorists who were hiding in there. Because the operation would require going into a hospital, the intel had to be VERY reliable, the threat huge and immediate, and the IDF's Chief of Staff had to personally approve it. The intel indicated these terrorists were gonna carry out a suicide bombing, that would use an entire vehicle loaded with explosives, rather than a suicide bomber "just" wearing a vest with explosives. The first such terrorist attack that I know of in Israel happened on Feb 22, 1948 (before the State of Israel was established, but after the Arabs started a war against the Jews). It was carried out jointly by rogue (and antisemitic, based on the slurs they used) British soldiers, who did it in the service of the Arabs' war against Jews. They blew up the explosives on a central street (Ben Yehuda) in Jerusalem. This is a partial picture of the damage caused:

Three buildings were completely destroyed, but the impact was much wider (including glass windows shattering across the city). 58 people were killed, 49 of them immediately, while 9 more died in the hospital from their injuries. Hamas itself carried out their first terrorist attack of this type on Apr 6, 1994. A car filled with explosives bypassed a bus driving children back from school, and then blew up right in front of it. When those who were alive tried to get out of the bus, they couldn't because the driver had been killed, and they didn't know how to open the door. 8 people were murdered in total, and 55 injured, almost all kids and teenagers. An extra touch of sickness? That day was the eve of Yom Ha'Shoah, Israel's Holocaust Memorial Day. The headline screamed in Hebrew, "Blood of the Children," while in the top left corner, there's a reminder about the sirens for Yom Ha'Shoah going off at 10, to observe a national commemorative minute of silence.

There's a very nice and well intentioned campaign right now, enlisting American celebs to ask everyone to stand against antisemitism. That's incredibly important due to the global rise in antisemitism we've witnessed since Hamas' massacre, but the bigger issue to me is that so many people are ignorant on what actually constitutes Jew hatred. So in one reblog they can oppose antisemitism (and absolutely believe that this is their own stance), while in another they can help spread antisemitic narratives, including antisemitic dogwhistles, modern blood libels, erasure of Jewish rights, history and pain, and demonization of Jews. I'm not talking about people who are aware that stuff like saying "From the river to the sea" is repeating a genocidal chant against the Jews. I'm talking about people who honestly see a non-Jew posting an explanation on why anti-Zionism isn't antisemitism (even though Judaism IS Zionist, and anti-Zionism absolutely IS a tool for antisemites, and goes hand in hand with classic antisemitism), and they totally believe this, and reblog such a post, that is speaking over the majority of Jews, who are Zionist, and repeatedly try to explain how anti-Zionism hurts ALL OF US, every single Jew.

But it is a nice vid, so here:

The president of the Israeli Bar-Ilan University said at the Knesset (Israel's parliament) today that they are trying to deal with thousands of students who come to study, but are suffering from post-traumatic symptoms that impair them psychologically and cognitively, whether from the events of the Hamas massacre, or the fighting in Gaza. He mentioned that these symptoms harm every skill needed for academic work, even for people who are exceptionally gifted. BIU is the university with the fourth biggest number of students in Israel (according to 2021 numbers).

In connection to this subject, in the US, charges have been filed against a man who has threatened to blow up a local synagogue and kill Jews, following the war in Gaza.

New Zealand is another country now suspending funding to UNRWA, the UN agency whose members were found to be complicit in the Hamas massacre. The intel was reliable enough that the UN fired some of these employees, rather than suspend them pending a hearing. I first wrote about the news here. NZ is the 15th country to do this, though it should be noted that Switzerland froze its funding to this UN agency even before this latest intel, because of past antisemitism and terrorism encouragement that UNRWA was regularly responsible for. There is a continuously updated list of who's suspending its UNRWA funding at UN Watch.

This is 76 years old Menucha Cholati with her husband Israel.

On Oct 7, they each hid separately from the Hamas terrorists who invaded their community, kibbutz Kissufim, for hours on end. When Israel was finally rescued by Israeli soldiers, he asked to see his wife. He was advised that it's better not to, but he insisted. Holding on to a bag for all his and her meds, which had been pierced by bullets, he got to see his wife, only to discover that the terrorists burned her alive. May her memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[lunarzstarz]

(12 Days of Kinkmas) Day 3: Exhibitionism

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Steve Harrington

Content Warning: NSFW 18+ minors dni, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, fingering, spanking, praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dom(ish) bisexual Eddie and sub(ish) reader/Steve, nicknames (sweetheart, sweet thing, baby, good boy), Steve has a bisexual awakening, Steve’s thick dick (honestly cannot stop thinking about it)

Summary: You and Eddie give Steve an extra special Christmas gift…

A/N: Let’s just pretend I didn’t post this 2 days late…anyways I’ve wanted to write a Steddie x reader fic forever so here it is I hope you like it :)

As always likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Word Count: 3.5k

You were laying on the couch in Eddie’s trailer, legs resting on his lap while he watched the TV. Winter was here and it was time to start saving money and thinking about Christmas presents for friends and family. 

“Okay so far I’ve got a mug for Wayne, new dice for all the boys, the girls are getting make up, Nancy a new dress, Robin a new sweater, but I still can’t think of anything for Steve” you sigh, setting the list aside. You and Steve had been friends for a long time, but when it came to birthdays and Christmas you were clueless on what to get him, never feeling fully satisfied with the gifts you gave him and he always managed to get you something great. 

“What are you getting me?” he turns his attention to you, and you roll your eyes, throwing your pen at him. 

“Cologne and a blowjob” you reply bluntly, teasing of course, you had an extra special gift for Eddie this year.  

“Same as last year? You know me so well” he smiles blissfully “Can I get a preview though? These pants are getting pretty tight sweetheart” he palms himself and you lightly kick his stomach. 

“Come on Eds, what do we get Steve? He’s your friend too you know” you huff, wrecking your brain to think of something better than last year. 

“A girlfriend?” Eddie snickers.

“Oh come on that isn’t nice, you have to stop bullying him for that” you tut, nudging him. 

“I’m sorry I can't help it, the man probably hasn’t got laid since eighty four” he laughs again, focusing on the TV again. 

“Yeah well, lest we forget that you would be a single virgin right now if it wasn’t for me, so you have no room to talk” you remind him. 

“I know, but I’m not and I love you for it” he shifts from his position to lay on top of you “Come on, you’ve been gift planning all morning, I’m bored.” You knew what that meant, especially by the bulge now pressing against your thigh. 

“You really are insatiable, you know that?” you look down at him as he rests his head on your chest.

“Thanks baby” he grins up at you stupidly before sitting back again. You positioned yourself on your knees next to him and your hands went straight for his belt. He lifted his hips so you could slide his jeans and underwear off, his hard cock resting against his stomach. 

“You owe me later” you say before taking him by the base and pumping him at a painfully slow pace. There was so much pre cum, like he was aching for your mouth, like you hadn’t sucked him off this morning already. 

“Don’t worry I’ll fuck you nice a good later, just shit- stop being a tease” he hisses when you swipe your thumb over his leaky slit. You lean down and spit onto his tip, letting it run along his length to help you slide over him easier. He bucked his hips impatiently, his head hitting your lips when you lean down to wrap them around him. 

He gathered your hair in one hand, the light tug felt nice as you slid him further into your mouth, he never pushed you, knowing your throat was probably still sore from his roughness earlier. So instead he let you do it your way, slow and teasing, but keeping up a pace knew got him there after a while and made him feel good. This was the pace that made him make all those sounds you loved, the whiney sighs, the deep groans. 

“Fuuuck sweetheart, never get tired of this mouth” he moans, thumb brushing the side of your head as you take him halfway, pumping the rest of him, bringing your free hand up to cup his balls. “Love having my cock in your mouth don’t you? Take it so well” he praises, hips moving involuntarily. 

You knew it would take him a while to cum like this, but you didn’t mind, he was right, no matter how much you acted annoyed when he asked you to suck him off, you always would. You loved the weight of his length on your tongue or when his salty cum dripped down your throat. So you went on like this for at least twenty more minutes, stopping every time he was close to build up his release. 

“Gonna cum next time baby, just keep sucking, just like that” he instructed, balls tightening as he felt his orgasm approach. 

You paid no attention to the sound of tires on gravel outside, or the footsteps approaching the trailer, you were only focused on making Eddie feel good. That was until there was a knock on the door a few feet away from you. 

You pull off Eddie with a pop “Shit, it’s Steve!” you whisper yell. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” He matches your tone.

“He’s here to pick up the things I got for the christmas party, quick put it away!” you go to sit up and fix yourself, but Eddie’s grip remains on your hair. 

“We aren't finished here yet, maybe we could give him an early christmas present” he has that menacing smirk on his face. 

“Eddie no, you have no idea how he would react!” you warn him. 

“Please, he’s a guy who hasn’t been with anyone other than his right hand in at least six months, trust me” he pushes you back down again “now get back to work, it hurts” he groans when your tongue meets his tip again. “It’s open!” Eddie calls in a sing-song voice, he couldn't wait to see Steve’s face.

“Hey, is Y/n around? Said she had some…stuff for t-the…party” Steve trails off when he turns from shutting the door to see the two of you. 

“She’s a bit, christ- busy right now, but I’m sure she will be more than happy to help once she’s finished” Eddie says, trying to keep his cool. 

“I-I um could come back later if-” Steve was flushing pink, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight, your mouth wrapping around Eddie’s cock, the way he was looking at him like he was next.

“Don’t worry about it Stevie” Eddie says, calling him by the nickname you usually had reserved for him “take a seat, won’t be much longer with a mouth like this” Steve took a seat in the armchair opposite, eyes blown wide as he watches Eddie lose himself, he looked like he was about to cum in his pants. “Think she’s got a present for you Steve, a real good one” he says, head falling back. 

“That’s it sweetheart, right there fuck- fuck- right there” he whines loudly, holding you in place as he let his load into your mouth. You give him a few more pumps, making sure you got every last drop. He pulls you off, spit and cum dribbling down your chin, you swallow and wipe it with the back of your hand. 

You look over at Steve who is still staring at you open mouthed, pupils blown wide from watching you. “Hi” you give him a shy smile and he gulps, Eddie sitting with a smug grin on his face. 

“You gonna give Steve his present? He seems like he really needs it” Eddie’s eyes drift to the prominent bulge in Steve’s sweatpants, Steve turning bright red and trying to hide it. 

You knew what Eddie was hinting too, you were no stranger to him letting other people have you or threesomes with his friends, it was just something that was a part of your relationship. Eddie never got insecure or jealous either, he got off on it and after had their way with you, Eddie would be there to fuck you ten times harder, it was his way of reminding you, no matter who you slept with, in the end he was always better. 

Eddie got up from his spot on the couch, planting a kiss on the top of your head as a way to say thank you “Your turn Stevie.” 

Steve gulped “I- uh, you don’t have to-” he started rambling.

“Relax, she just wants to make you feel good, nothing to worry about” Eddie gestures for him to take his spot next to you. 

“And you don’t- you’re okay with this?” he asks Eddie, confused by the whole idea.

“More than okay” Eddie says casually, taking the cigarette that was behind his ear and lighting it “you don’t have to of course, up to you, but you look like you need to let off a load, that right hand not cutting it anymore?” he teases. 

Steve rolled his eyes, Eddie had been bringing up the fact he hadn’t gotten laid in months almost every time they were together, it was really starting to piss him off. He looked over to you, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from sucking on Eddie’s dick, tits almost spilling out of your shirt. Eddie was right, his hand wasn’t cutting it anymore and the tension had been building for weeks now. 

“Okay” he said, standing up from the armchair and sat next to you “are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks you now. 

“Are you?” you gave him a weak smile, he looked nervous, you couldn’t blame him after being best friends with you for years.

“Yeah” he said, taking a deep breath “should I?” he tugs on his waist band. 

“All you need to do is relax, just do what feels right” you place a kiss to his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, his lips parting slightly as his eyes shut. You kissed along his jaw and stopped below his ear “You gonna let me take care of you Stevie?” you ask, grazing your hand over the outline of his bulge. 

“Fuck yes” he says, grinding against the palm of your hand, the touch of someone else already feeling ten times better than his own. You smile against the skin of his neck, placing light kisses, finding a spot to suck on to leave a few marks. 

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, Eddie has stripped down to his underwear and shirt, lounging in the armchair, cigarette in one hand while he lazily strokes his cock with the other as he watches you two. 

You pull back the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, reaching for his hard-on. He sighs when you brush against his leaking tip, he was already making such a mess for you. He lifted his hips to get out of his clothes, bottom half bare so you could get more access. Your eyes go wide, out of all the people you had been with, Eddie always had the biggest dick. Steve wasn’t as long as Eddie, but definitely much wider, you couldn’t help but think how he would feel stretching you out. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks when he realizes you were staring. 

“Nothing, it’s just big” you practically drool at the sight, taking him by the base and giving him a light squeeze. You leaned down to lick a long stripe from his sack to his tip, tongue lapping up the pre cum that had dribbled down his length, you felt his hips buck beneath you. 

“Please” he threw his head back once you suck his tip into your mouth, starting to pump his girthy length. You let yourself drool a gag on his tip, the sloppier you were the more he seemed to like it. His hands fisting at his sides, you pull off him, pumping your spit and his pre cum along his shaft slowly, not wanting him to bust his load so soon no matter how much he needed it after so long. 

Eddie stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and stood up again, taking a seat behind you on the third and final spot on the couch. “Don’t tease the poor baby sweetheart” Eddie teased, Steve twitched in your hand at the pet name “get sucking.” You did as he said and placed Steve back in your mouth, picking up your pace “She likes it when you hold her hair, loves it when you fuck her throat” Eddie said, watching Steve struggle to find something to hold on to. 

He gathered your hair up, lacing his fingers close to your scalp so he could tug lightly. You felt him hesitantly pushing your head, if it were Eddie he’d be fucking your throat raw by now. “Don’t be shy Stevie, she can take it, can’t you sweetheart?” Eddie says, hand coming down to connect with your ass, the pain dull considering your clothes still being on, but it went straight to your core. 

“Mhmm” you hum, making Steve groan as it vibrates through him, his confidence building as his tip starts prodding the back of your throat. Eddie had trained you well when it came to deepthroating, but with Steve’s girth it was a bit harder than usual. You let your jaw go slack, Steve pushing your head down further until you gagged, then pulling you off again to compose yourself.

“Come on, you can do better than that” Eddie coos, pulling your pants and underwear over your ass and down to your knees, spanking you harder. “Use her, she can handle it” another smack, harder again, this one definitely leaving a mark. “Gonna get her nice and ready for you Stevie, you want Steve to fuck you sweet thing?” he asks, placing a kiss to the mark he left behind. 

“Yes, so bad” you reply, another smack. 

“Best get to work then, gotta show him how good you can be for him” Eddie said, spreading your ass and spitting on it, letting his drool run down to your cunt, mixing with your slick. 

You let Steve guide his cock back into your mouth, prepared to take him all the way. He pushed you this time, when he felt the restriction of your throat, he slid further in “Fuck, feels so f-fucking good” he whined, hips bucking up to fit the last of his length down your throat. 

“That’s it, taking him so well, sweet thing” Eddie praised, his fingers coming down to tease your entrance. “All she wanted to do was make you happy Stevie, wanted to give you something special this year, isn’t that sweet” Eddie said, pushing his fingers into you “Though I just think she wanted an excuse to have your cock.”

You can’t say anything, too busy focusing on the feeling of Eddie’s fingers knuckle deep in your cunt and Steve fucking your throat. “Oh shit, m’gonna cum” Steve moans grew louder, fucking into you faster, the feeling of your throat constricting around him so tight was bringing him so close to the edge. 

“Go ahead, cum down her throat, she wants it bad don’t you?” Eddie felt you squeeze around his fingers “fuck yeah she wants it, wants you to fill her up.” 

Steve’s grip on your hair grew tighter as he held you flush against his base, the scarce hair of his happy trail ticking your cheek. He came with a loud whine, thighs shaking beneath you as his cum painted your throat.

“Holy shit” he panted, pulling you off so you could get your breath back. 

You gasp, spit and cum dripping onto your chest “Did such a good job baby” Eddie pulled you back so he could kiss you, partially to soothe you and partially to taste Steve on your lips. “Look at him, made him feel so good” you both watched as Steve tried to gather himself, chest heaving beneath his shirt, hair clinging to his damp forehead. “Think our girl needs a reward don’t you Harrington?” Steve opened his eyes to look at him, our girl. 

“Y-yeah” he said, starting to come down from his high. 

“What do you say sweetheart? You want Steve to fuck your pussy, think he deserves it?” Eddie asks, kissing the side of your neck, hand reaching to your front to stroke your clit. 

“Fuck- yes!” you moan, leaning into his touch. Eddie leaned back, placing you between his legs so he could watch Steve fuck into you. 

“Come on Steve, don’t make her wait any longer” Eddie encourages him out of his pleasured daze. He gets up on his knees in front of you, getting rid of the bunched up clothes around your ankles. Eddie hooked his hands behind the backs of your knees to pull them to your chest, making sure you were spread for Steve. 

“Pretty isn’t she” Eddie says when he catches him staring at your slick cunt. 

“So pretty” Steve agrees, stroking his cock a few times to get it hard again. Tapping his tip against your wet clit “Just, let me know if you need me to stop.”

You nod and Eddie laughs “Don’t think she will, but how sweet, isn’t he such a good boy for us sweets?” Eddie smiles up at Steve, his cheeks heating up again, did Eddie have this effect on everyone? 

He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed into you, the two of them watching your face contort at the stretch. “Fuuuck” you gasp, the sting was something new. 

Eddie grinded against your back, groaning as he watched Steve’s thick cock sink deeper into you. “That’s it baby, taking it so well” Eddie whispers whiney praises in your ear. 

“S-so big” you let out a shaky breath, the ache making your eyes water as he bottoms out. You hold onto his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he starts the slow rock of his hips. 

“You feel so good, so fucking tight” Steve grips onto your hips as he pulls out to the tip, slamming back into you. 

“Oh my-” the air is knocked from your lungs as he repeated his actions. You were unable to form words, respond to whatever Eddie was whispering to you with loud cries or whimpers, he soon gave up and focused on rutting his hips into you. 

Eddie didn’t think Steve had it in him, but he was pounding into you at an unforgivable pace, hips slapping against the backs of your thighs making the lost lewd sounds echo off the walls. Steve doubled over, hitting you at a deeper angle making you scream with pleasure as his thick cock dragged against your g spot. 

His face was inches from yours and Eddie’s, he leaned down and kissed you, sloppy but you didn’t mind. Then after a few seconds he pulled away, looking at Eddie, you could see a switch go off in his mind as he leaned in and kissed him on the lips, you felt Eddie shiver beneath you. Steve pulled away again, clearly shocked at his own actions, but not disappointed. 

“Knew it” Eddie said to you, sounding winded like Steve had taken his breath away. 

Steve didn’t stop or comment on the kiss at the time, instead he picked up his pace, fucking into you brutally. It was filthy, the wet sounds of your pussy, Steve’s moans and Eddie panting in your ear, hot breath on your neck as he chased his high. You were all covered in a sheet of sweat, it beading on Steve's forehead as he tried to keep up his animalistic pace, the smell of sex in the air. 

You were in heaven, body pressed between two of the hottest boys in Hawkins, it felt more like your christmas present. Tears welled up in your eyes as the feeling of core shaking pleasure took over you, Steve’s hips stuttering and Eddie’s rutting faster against you, all three of you chasing your highs. 

“Aww look, you’re making her cry Stevie” Eddie coos, letting his hands roam up your shirt to your tits. “Is Steve making you feel so good? You gonna cum sweet thing?” he pinched your nipples hard making you shriek, smiling against the skin on your neck as he started sucking on it. 

“Oh fuck- shit- I’m gonna cum again, where you want it?” Steve grunted, hips faltering as his orgasm approached. 

“I-inside” was all you could manage as you reached your release. One last drag of his cock had you cumming with a loud cry, pure pleasure coursing through your core, cunt clinging tightly to Steve, tipping him over the edge too.

“Holy- fuck, fuck!” he moaned, thick spurts of his cum coating your walls and filling you up. He fucked his load into you, making sure you got every last drop. Eddie wasn’t long to follow, his hips coming to a stop and the feeling of warm cum on your back a few seconds later. 

The three of you lay there, stacked on top of each other unable to move, not saying a word all too fucked out to form a sentence. The only sound was the three of you catching your breath, basking in the after glow of sex. You let your eyes drift shut, head fuzzy, knowing that someday this would happen again. 

[13pxrkhxoe13]

Pleasure Me | Jk

✽ Pairing: Aaron Warner!Jungkook x Fem!Juliette Ferrars!Y/n (Shatter Me series (Book Series) AU)

✽ Synopsis: After 2 months of being in ‘Love’ with Jimin, Y/n had finally realized that she isn’t, and wasn’t, in fact ever in love with him after all. It was always Jungkook. Now, in her current situation after being presumed dead by Jungkook's father, and staying with Jungkook until they both come up with an idea to kill his father, things get a little… freaky…

✽ Warnings/Genre: Sexual content and themes, 18+ (but if younger, you are reading at your own risk), slight cursing, unprotected sex, no prep, Jk Dom, and… that’s mainly all I can think of-

✽ A/n: This oneshot is based on & inspired by the Shatter Me series by Tahereh Mafi—to which I am currently obsessed with the series!~ This is my first fanfiction that I will post on tumblr, so thank you for reading and don’t feel shy to request something for me to write! I love suggestions~ Sorry for any grammar mistakes, btw! Also, please do not copy this piece of work and use it as if you wrote it with your own blood, sweat, and tears—but reblogging is allowed!

I am just now realizing the fate that had been before me all along.

With Jungkook on top of me and his breath fanning over my lips and his hands all over me, I felt like my days in the asylum weren’t even enough to prepare me for this kind of shock. Or even the amount of butterflies that swam in my stomach everytime he called me, “Jagiya.”

Things were different when I was with Jungkook.

I didn’t have to hide my secrets and pretend I was ok, he just knew.

His gift was remarkable—maybe even more than his love for me… but that would never be humanly possible as long as he lived.

“Y/n…” His deep voice whispered above me, my body trembling with need and teenage hormones at the very word of my name being called.

I just couldn’t respond, and he seemed to understand that.

He leaned in ever so slightly just so our noses were rubbing against each other, and I could feel my core ache with need at the small movement of affection.

“Do you want this… Are you sure?” He questioned again, his voice softer this time as I felt his hands stop once they gripped my hips so tight I could feel his short nails even from the fabric of my pants.

I nodded my head once, twice, and settled on the third one.

“As flattered as I am by your shyness, Jagi, but I’ll need words.” Jungkook chuckled under his breath, his middle body moving slightly as he readjusted himself above me.

I felt red take over my face and heat up my neck, “I-I want this, Jungkook. I need this.”

His adam's apple moved under my touch when I let my hands touch his face, moving down from his cheek to his jaw and father and farther, until he caught my hand with his own—right before I could make it to the waistband of his pants too.

He groaned and I slightly smiled when he met my eyes. Oh, his brown eyes. So vibrant and full of life.

“God, I love you.” And just like that he leaned in to close the distance between us, his lips touching mine like it was our first kiss all over again.

His soft pillow lips melted against mine, his hands traveling under the silk of my shirt as they teased my skin with soft touches, to which he was barely even touching me—giving me goosebumps.

It was soft at first before he bit my bottom lip with his teeth, ever so slightly, to which I became breathless instantly and opened my mouth for a breath, only for his tongue to be plunged into my mouth.

The open mouth kisses were rough and intense as his hands became more eager and found their way to my back before unclipping my bra, even though my shirt wasn’t off yet.

I let my hands run over the scars on his back, being gentle even if he still had his shirt on, as well.

He broke the kiss, letting both of us breath before kissing my chin and right under my jaw, settling at my neck.

I let my head fall back against the pillow behind me as his hands now cupped my breasts, under my bra and shirt, making me let out shaky noises of whines.

His middle and pointer finger found joy in fiddling with my nipple, occasionally flicking at the bud as well. He sat up, taking his hands back as he took off his sweater, throwing it over his head and somewhere over the room before trying to take mine off in a rush.

And even though I had seen his bare form before he was still breathtakingly beautiful as ever, and I felt myself falling harder for him by the second, my cunt begging for him as it throbbed for attention.

His hands achieved their goal in taking my shirt and bra off, not wasting a single moment before latching his mouth around one of my nipples, sucking like his life depended on it.

“Oah~” I moaned and I felt him smirk as my hands played through his hair, one of his hands found their way to my other nipple, making sure it wasn’t left out.

He stayed like that for a short while, switching back and forth between my buds and I was on cloud nine in pleasure, and we haven’t even gotten anywhere yet.

Soon though he began kissing down the length of my stomach, stopping at the start of my pants as he looked up at me for permission to which I nodded desperately as I watched his teeth grab ahold' of the cloth before tugging it down, all the way down to my feet before he stood up and took his own pants off.

I could see the outline of his bulge and I was desperate to pleasure him as he was me, but when I leaned up to palm him he shook his head and pecked my lips before saying, “No, Jagiya… I just want to be inside of you… We can experiment with things like that in the future.”

I swear my heart did flip after flip when he said that, making me know that we would find ourselves like this again, and I loved every thought of it.

He pulled my underwear off first, before taking his own off, and I watched as he groaned at the release from the uncomfortable cage his cock was in, to which it was now free.

I could feel myself clench around nothing but oxygen as I watched him stroke himself a few times, looking at my lower half.

“Fuck, Jagi, I knew you were beautiful but damn…” He hissed, crawling back over me, not letting me respond as he kissed me again, “This is your first time, right?” He whispers, between kisses, and I could feel him poke my lower abdomen.

I blushed again, embarrassed by the fact for some reason, but it was true nevertheless. I could never touch anyone before I met him and Jimin. So, I shook my head and he smiled before replying to my movement, “I’ll be gentle, it’s my first time too. I didn’t have any girls like you before you came here…” He grunted as he grabbed his cock in hand and rubbed himself on my folds, “I wanted no one but you… ever since I first saw you.”

I moaned again, louder this time and he smirked down at me as he watched my parted lips, before he took one inhale before slipping the tip of his dick into me, stretching out the beginning of my virgin hole.

And it felt good.

He groaned and his hands found their way to my waist and stayed there, keeping his head bent as he stared at the scene happening between both of our bodies.

“Shit, never knew this was how pussy felt.” He cursed, grinning up at me and I tapped his back, letting him know that I needed more of him inside of me.

“Same… I never knew dick felt this good… I can feel every vein on you.” I whined and spoke before he slowly moved his hips forward so that I took a little more of him in.

“Every vein?” He chuckled, “Some humor.” He pushed in more, making me quietly close my eyes as I got used to the burning sensation.

“I-I’m not joking, Jeon.” I barked back, playfully but also impressed at myself.

I never knew sex felt this good.

“What?” He lifted his head up and I could see the sweat already forming on his head, “I never knew that about girls…”

I furrowed my eyebrows as he smiled inside of me for a while, “Firstly, you knew nothing about women before I got here,” He pouted, “And secondly, this shit feel so good, so I need more.” I teasingly moved my hands to grasp his bum and move more of him in and he blushed but also smirked.

“Anything you want, Jagiya.” He purred and when he was buried inside of me all the way to the brim I moaned, feeling him fill me up so good made me want to cry as he hit every nerve with his long dick—not like I could talk since I have only ever saw his dick-

“T-tell me when to move…” He stuttered, his jaw clenching and his teeth grinding.

“M-m—” I didn’t even get the chance to finish before he pulled out and moved back in, his dick slipping in and out with ease from my juices.

“Ahhh~ Jungkook!” I called out, my lungs burning with the need to let noises out as he started a steady pace, moving in and out.

In, still, out.

In, still, out.

He groaned, his hands gripping my ass and lifting my lower half of the bed slightly as he kept his eyes on him moving inside of me and went slowly, making it painful for me to hold back desire.

“Faster!!” I whined and he smirked, licking his lips before lifting my legs up by holding under my knee ever so slightly until he could ram into me.

He sure did go faster, and I mean faster.

I could feel the pit of desire in my stomach begin to build as my pussy heated up even more as he hit every nerve in me.

“Shit—So tight, so much better than my hand.” He lifted his up, throwing it back as he breathed with each thrust, as my hand grabbed onto his thighs either side of me.

He went slow and then faster, making me let out noises of pleasure more frequently, him groaning and trembling in response. I was getting closer and I let my fingernails claw his thighs slightly as I screamed,

“C-Cumming soon, Jeon!”

“Right behind you, Jagiya…” He trailed off and plunged his long dick into me faster and faster until I felt my stomach clench, making my cunt clench before I felt my release.

“JEON~!” I called out, arching my back off the bed as I came, with him still ramming into me making my walls clench from overstimulation.

“Shit—shit, shit!” He cursed his hips stuttering, “So t-tight! Y-Your clenching—Shit!” He moaned and whined as he builded himself up using my cunt, making my mouth wet and my eyes roll back slightly as I felt him pull out quickly.

I looked down and saw him stroking himself over my stomach, and just as I was about to help him he came all over my breasts, his white serum making me look like a canvas.

“Jagiya…” He whispered, stroking his cock a few more times until he started going soft again, to which he placed himself on the bed beside me, our sweat filled bodies colliding non-sexually now.

“I love you, too.” I called for the first time, making him look at me with surprise and joy, his eyes lightening up.

“If I knew sex was all it took for you to say that I would have done this a long, long time ago.” He chuckled, pecking my forehead.

“Hey! I know you love birds just did the naughty, but no more! My lonely ass is tired and it smells like… y’know what, and we have a war to get to tomorrow!!!” - Taehyung (Kenji in this case) yells as he knocks on the door, somehow in Jungkooks living quarters. 🤣🤣🤣

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!~~~~

[book-place]

Holiday Secret

Warnings: none (I think), let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Batfamily x reader platonic

Request: I have another request! Here's my idea: batfam x reader who isnt supposed to know about their identities but secretly does. Before damian left school for winter break (you also go to school with damian in this one. And youre both friends as well) you gave him a gift for all of his brothers, including him and Bruce. You had specifically instructed him to open it once you were out of sight. So, when he arrived at the manor, he gathered everyone up and gave them their gifts from you. They were so excited! They've met you before and they absolutely love you. When they opened their gifts, they were met with a figuring of their hero identities (example; Jason got a red hood figuring and Bruce got a batman figuring). They all looked at it in confusion, maybe it was just a coincidence? But as damian took off the rest of the wrapping paper an envelope fell out. Tim picked it up before he could as damian shot him a cold glare, only for Tim to stuck his tongue out at him. Everyone gathered around him in curiosity as he slowly opened the envelope to reveal many photos printed out of the masked vigilantes with each one naming their real identities. Another piece of paper fell out as it read; "i know who you are. But dont worry, your secret is safe with me" This isn't really a Christmas request so you can always remove it from the event and make it on your own time, it's up to you

Request by: @ladyagagaslefttoe

*not my gif*

Summary: You give Damian a very unexpected surprise for the holidays

A/N: Welcome to day 4 of Book Places 12 Days of Christmas Celebration

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Damian!” You called with a smile as you skipped happily down the hall towards the boy.

He turned to you with a raised eyebrow, “L/n.” He greeted.

“For you and your family,” You said cheerfully, handing him a couple of small bags, “Tell them I said Merry Christmas.”

The boy was taken aback, “You got us gifts?” He asked in surprise.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Of course, silly!”

Though you had only been introduced to his family only a couple of times, you adored them just as much as you adored Damian, who had quickly become your best friend in the beginning of the year after being placed next to each other for multiple classes.

“Oh…” He was still in slight shock, “Thank you.”

Your grin widened, “It’s no problem, Dami.” You threw your arms around his neck and brought him into a quick hug, “Have a great break! I’ll see you when we get back!”

With that, you turned on your heel and skipped away, leaving Damian standing in the middle of the hall, blinking after you for a moment before shaking his head softly and looking down at the bags you had given him.

Early on in your friendship, you had both learned how to deal with one another’s polar opposite personalities, this was not different. Where he didn’t find it necessary to give gifts, you did.

With a slight shrug to himself, he began his journey back to the manor.

-•-

“L/n has gotten us all presents,” Damian announced, marching into the dining room, where his whole family sat.

Everyone looked up at him in surprise, “Really?” Dick asked excitedly, bouncing up and down in his seat at the thought.

“Well, that was nice of her,” Bruce commented with a small smile as he took a sip of his coffee in front of him.

Damian walked around the table, passing out all the bags based on everyone’s names being written in bold words on the front.

Once everyone had recived a bag, including Damian himself, they were all quick to tear out the wrapping paper and allow their eyes to rest upon the bestowed gifts.

Silence echoed louder in the room than any word ever could as they all stared at first with confusion, then wide eyes of horror.

“Is this…” Tim trailed off, too at a loss for words to even be able to finish what he was thinking.

“It- it’s a coincidence… right?” Dick stuttered out, too overwhelmed to really understand what he was seeing.

One by one, each of the family members reached into their bags before pulling out figurines. But not just any figurine, ones of their hero identities, each person with their own.

“What the-“ Jason wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as he started down at the Red Hood toy, before Damian inturpted him.

“There’s a card.” He spoke with no emotion in his voice as he shook it out from the bottom of the bag.

Everyone immediately got up and rushed to his side, cramming around to try and get a glimpse of what it said.

I know who you are, but don’t worry, your secrets safe with me

Thirteen words. Sixty two characters. One life altering message.

The silence once again hung thickly in the air between all of them, ringing in their ears as if an explosion just occurred.

“H-how…” Tim swallowed thickly, being the first one to speak, “How did she know?”

“She’s smart,” Damian murmured, eyebrows furrowed slightly as the gears could practically be seen turning in his head, “Prehaps she’s known for a while.”

“But, will she really not tell anybody?” Dick asked the one question everyone was truly thinking.

“No,” Damian said thoughtfully, “She won’t.”

Jason scoffed, “How do you know?”

The boy looked his elder brother dead in the eyes as he responded, “Because I trust her.”

The confession meant a lot more than it sounded like, for the youngest boy to actually trust, let alone admit that he did, was something that almost never happened.

Bruce cleared his throat, putting a hand on his sons shoulder, “Well, if Damian does, then so do I.”

-•-

You hummed happily to yourself as you floated over to the door once the bell had been rung, opening it with a smile to see a delivery man.

“How can I help you?” You asked, not having remembered ordering anything.

“Y/n L/n?” He asked, reciving a nod of conformation before continuing, “You have fifty packages of gifts waiting for your signature.”

Your eyes widened as you stuttered out, “W-what? I didn’t order anything!”

“They’re from…” he trailed off, looking down at his clipboard, “Mr. Bruce Wayne.” He shook his head lightly, “I suppose he’s the only one to be able to get you all these gifts though our system at this time of year…Oh, here’s a note!” He handed a folded up paper to you.

You looked down at the two words. Nine characters. And life changing message.

Thank you

The Superior Robin ❤️- @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @i-writes-things

[nexusnyx]

s.w.a.l.k.

40s!bucky barnes x f!reader; [3.4k] summary: No one at his battalion knows about her, but they all see Sgt. Barnes writing the letters. Everyone wonders what does he have to say—how can so many words fit in him when he has so few to spare most of the time, but at the end of the day, all that matters is that when he receives his replies, Barnes looks happy. Glowing. 📝: this was based on this post. if you like it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. talk to me about it and i’ll adore ya. 🏷️: established relationship, letters, angst, longing.

masterlist | series masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤJune, 1943.

If there was one thing Bucky learned during his first weeks on duty, it was how to write.

Who would've thought?

Not Steve, that's for sure. As a matter of fact, Steve's first letter replying to Bucky involved the words 'damn Buck, didn't even know you could write' and while that was hilarious — like, really, very funny, Stevie, you're oh, so hilarious, Bucky wrote back — it was nothing compared to the gift he received from you.

The first letter you sent back to him proved to him why it was important that he wrote. It was crucial that Bucky learned how to verbalize all those feelings and thoughts pent up inside his mind because here, stuck between trenches, men, gunpowder, and the smell of death, he learned the truth about how ephemeral and fragile everything was.

Bucky needed you to know that amongst the rocky current of the waters of life, you were a lifeline.

His sweetheart.

+++++++ +++++++

The first time he wrote, it was short, objective, but sweet.

You'd been his girl for five months before he was shipped out, and Bucky had never been head over heels before.

The unfairness of it all didn't go unregistered.

Of course Bucky would find the one person he wanted to spend all of his time with just before everything everywhere went to shit. Of course he'd find the gal who he enjoys talking to for hours, with no end in sight—the girl who not only can keep up with him but makes him speed up sometimes to catch up. The girl who likes Steve.

(That one had been a big one. Nothing turned Bucky off more than when one of his dates met his best friend and treated him like dirt underneath their shoe, or grimaced, or sighed as if talking to Steve was a chore they had to put up with in order to be on his good side.

Not you.

Bucky introduced you to Steve, went to get a drink, and came back to the two of you laughing like you'd been best friends since childhood. He'd been so fucking happy to see Steve getting along with a girl of his that for a moment, he'd forgot you were his girl.

Between the two of them, you were not just his date. Those last few months, whenever Bucky left the docks to meet you or after he picked up Steve from the mass and the art classes he taught the children, they went to your neighborhood to share a beer and talk to you. All three, together.

Good friends.

Bucky had, many times, joked that you and Steve were an item on your own—the nerdy duo, the smarty pants, the firecrackers. If Steve alone was trouble, Bucky was now damned because his dame was trouble too, and she took none of it home. No—when trouble knocked on your door or his, you faced it with your chin held up high and your hands ready to throw fists.

He'd seen it first hand; the day someone called Steve a fairy and you became part woman, part beast.

That's when he knew he was in love.

That was also a couple of weeks before he was shipped off.)

Regardless of how everything was just not right, Bucky tried seeing the good amidst the bad.

You had asked — no, demanded — he wrote to you as soon as he had a pen and paper in hand, and Bucky could only obey.

The first time was tentative. Fragile, and uncertain.

The letter had been small, and filled with apologies, words scratched out at the last minute, not even a full page long. What could he say? He didn't want to fill your days with the gloom and darkness that loomed over the battalion.

Then, your reply arrived, and Bucky's feelings grew roots inside of him.

Like vines that catch on a wall and become something alive; his ribcages were now filled with words of yours, and they grew, green and vast, as quick as weed, and watered by the memories of you alone.

When he opened the first letter and read the words,

to my Bucky,

he knew there was no turning back.

It must've been the first paragraph that did him in.

The way you spoke to him through paper was so similar to the way you spoke in person that for a few moments, just for a few precious minutes, Bucky could swear you were sitting right next to him, talking in his ear.

Call him crazy or not, but in the breeze, Bucky sensed your warmth. Your perfume.

He knew that was impossible—uncountable miles separated you two, and it was cold in there, colder than he expected.

Nothing but the smell of men, dirty mud and metal hung in the air, but—

he sensed it.

The words carried you in them:

ㅤㅤㅤto my Bucky,

You wrote! Thank you, thank you, thank you. Threefold I thank, so that three times the words come back. Good gods, how I missed you, Jay. I miss you in the mornings, and I miss seeing your frame walking out of the docks coming my way—call me crazy if you want to, but even the smell of your body when you hugged me just to make me yell in spite because the stickiness would cling to my clothes; I miss all of that, too. Don't you dare hold back anything that crosses your mind, ya hear me? I wanna know it all. I don't give a damn if it's ugly, if it's red, if it's horrible and nothing that you would one day say to a dame—I'm yours, James, and nothing about this world is okay or right anymore, so don't you dare hold back the things you'd want me to know. I'm here to listen to everything you're willing to tell me, the same way I'm about to spill my guts about these days here without you, as if you were here sitting on the edge of my bed and not many miles away, somewhere I don't even know, surrounded by people I'm not sure are being good to you like they should.

He read that paragraph so many fucking times that he remembered the words by heart.

'I don't give a damn if it's ugly, if it's red, if it's horrible.'

How had he found you?

He hugged the paper that day.

With eyes searching sideways to see if anyone was paying close attention to him and his silliness, Bucky sniffed the paper and was gifted with a surprise—there was the lingering scent of your perfume there.

That day, he learned the mistake of hugging a letter so close to your heart, where he wished he could keep it: his tears would stain the words, and his longing for you in his arms instead of a piece of paper would make the thing crease, which is the last thing he wanted.

He later found a good metal box, and that's where he decided he would keep your letters.

With a sticker seal from Brooklyn on the lid, Bucky secured the box within his possessions and picked up a pen and paper.

He'd tell you everything. Not because he had much to say or because he was letting the dark thoughts creep around the corners of his mind, but because he wanted to.

If it came out a little woozy, it was alright.

You understood him even when he didn't understand himself.

ㅤㅤㅤMy sweetheart,

I'm a fool for thinking I'd have no words to say to you. Ever since I got your letter, I feel like I should be walking around with a pen and paper with me at all times, 'cause all I wanna do is tell you all the stupid and important things that happen around here.

The words I'll probably use the most and that you'll see in every letter, I should leave out in the open right at first: I miss you. Goddamn it, I do. I didn't know I could miss someone this much—maybe Steve, 'cause I'm used to having him by my side, and my family, but other than that, I only hoped. And now I do. I'm gonna say this many more times, but I can't wait for all of this to be over so I can not miss you.

Speaking of my ma and the girls—have you found the address I gave you easily? I hope you did. I told Ma in my letter that she should be expecting a visit from someone important to me soon, and that I was devastated that I had to be fucking here instead of there in a moment like this, but I want her to have someone intelligent and important to talk to when I'm here. The girls are young. Kids. These are times too dark for children, and you're exactly the type of gal Ma would hope I brought home—does it count if I'm bringing you home, but from afar? Sending you home. I like the sound of that.

I met a couple of cool guys around here. I'm keeping this paper with me to tell you about their stupid ass jokes, but most of them are too dirty. Don't frown at me—I'm not keeping anything from you, sweetheart, they're just crude and stupid. The shit that man says, y'know? You'd roll your eyes at most of them. I smile to myself every time I think about that.

The Lt. around here told me he likes the way I work. Apparently my aim's good not only in the kitchen flippin' pancakes or throwing darts to impress ya. I'm good with a rifle. I dunno if you wanna know about these gritty details too — tell me to shut the hell up like you always did if not — but since you told me to loosen my tongue, I'm telling you that: I'm a sniper. That means I'm usually in the shadows with my eyes squinting in the direction of the enemy, just looking for a breach. I do my job well. Apparently, they're thinking of upping my rank. I also don't know how to feel about that, but one of the guys here — one of the cool ones, don't worry sweetheart, I'm not hanging around the 'bad influences' (and I write this thinking of you and Steve with your judging ass looks, just so you know) — his name's Morita, and he said that when the battalion is formed and everyone has their Sargeant, we can go back home for a weekend before we're shipped off somewhere else.

A lot of shit is 'classified'.

I know. I can hear you snorting, rolling your eyes. Ya hear that, beautiful? I'll be telling you a lot of 'classified' shit. Tell no one, 'cause I don't know how much they know or not.

Do they have ears and eyes everywhere? Probably. I get the sense they do. Everything you learn, pretend you don't. If Ma asks you something that you know and she doesn't, put on that pretty face of yours that fools Mr. Hirako from the store into giving you any information and tell her "ah, Miss Winnie" (I bet she'll ask you to call her that, she's gonna fuckin' love ya) "I don't know, but we should always pray for the best, right?" She'll buy it, 'cause most people buy anything you say. All they see is that angel face.

I adore that angel face so much. I wish you could fool the entire world into being less idiotic and behave like grown people who can solve their shit with words instead of using something so animalistic like these weapons.

Around here all I think about is our late-night conversations about humanity. I hope you're studying a lot, 'cause one day, you're gonna make this world a little better. 'm not sure where I stand on hopes for the future or not, but if this war ends, there might be some.

Ah! I learned something fun today by overhearing one of the conversations: apparently, when soldiers have someone to write to, they use special little acronyms. Like a secret, y'know? I'll be teaching you the ones I learn, 'kay? You're my special agent, now. You tell me all the info you got on the people over there, I tell you everything I know from the people over here, and together, we keep each other sane.

I'll be finishing this one off with Sealing With A Lot of Kisses. Do you miss my kisses? 'Cause I sure miss yours.

I know not every letter's gonna be light and fun like this one, but I hold your first letter close to my chest every night. It reminds me that you're the one who makes things shine for me. There at home, and here in the darkness, too.

It's dark in here, sweetheart.

I learned to close my eyes and think about the starry sky we loved looking at when we were on our dates at the fair, or walking home late at night. Remember the cinema walks with Stevie and I? That's where I go to when it's too dark, too stinky, too ugly. The things people say around here make the hair on the back of my neck rise, sometimes. Talks of experiments, and the messed up from from over there using humans in all sorts of shit... I'm glad that only men are stupid enough to think that fighting to the death is a solution. I'd hate to see you walking around here more than I hate seeing the sight of blood or still bodies. You don't belong here. I think no one does.

Please, can you do me a favor? Send me another picture of yours? I only have one. I can't risk losing this one and not having another picture of you to stare at. If you leave me with nothing but my fellas' ugly mugs to stare at, I'm gonna have to come back disowned.

I hear a lot of talk around the camp about shipping, so I'll leave you for now. I hope my words find you at peace, and that they bring you some comfort. I carried the papers with me everywhere so they musn't smell nice, but at least it smells like me. I'm sorry if my scent is different now. If it's bad, lemme know. I liked the thing you did with the perfume. My box smells of you. I open it only once a day, to make sure it doesn't go to waste. It's keepin' me sane, and it puts a smile on my face every time I get a whiff of it.

With a lot of adoration in my heart, goodbye for now, sweetheart;

S.W.A.L.K.

yours, J.B.B.

"Congratulations."

It says a lot about how much Bucky pays attention to the folk around here that he recognizes the voice of Morita. He looks up and is met with black hair and slim eyes. "Thanks, Jim."

Morita points at the log that Bucky's sitting on. "Mind if I join ya?"

"Not at all."

"Thanks." Morita sits with a grunt. Everyone around the base is tired—living on the edge with the minimum only makes a human being gruff and annoyed, but Morita still has that aura of someone whose head is right on their shoulders. "I was terrified there for a moment."

"Of what?"

"That they'd make me Sargeant."

Bucky chuckles. "With that aim of yours? Nah."

"Not my thing, Sarge. But I already told the Lt. that I wanna be under your watch. My aim might not be the best, but I've seen yours."

"Have ya?"

"Sure did. I'm good with explosives, though. If you need someone to blow some shit up, I'm your guy."

Bucky puts down his rifle, glad about the cleaning job, and shifts his focus to Jim. "I'll definitely remember that."

"Good, good." The silence that stretches for the next moments proves to Bucky what he already knew—Morita's one of the good folk. He rolls a tobacco, lights it up, and offers it to Bucky.

'Those things smell nasty, Buck. Put that shit out.'

'Oh, c'mon, sweetheart. It makes me light and loose.'

'It'll also make your gums black, your teeth yellow, and your breath stinky. D'you want me to kiss you forever?'

'That shouldn't even be a question'.

'Then lose that.'

He loves when things spark a memory of yours. Bucky shakes his head with a smile on. "Nasty things. Thanks, Jim."

Morita smokes a few puffs with his eyes glued on Bucky, who feels watched and analyzed.

"Who told ya to quit?" Morita asks through clouds of smoke.

Unlike most people, his questions don't come lidded with annoying prodding. Morita's older than Bucky—at least five, or maybe ten years on him, and Bucky liked his presence from the get-go because it was always like this; easy conversation without that feeling of someone snooping around in your life with nothing to offer back. "No one told me to quit, specifically..."

"But they told ya it was nasty, hm?"

Bucky chuckles. "It is a nasty habit."

"Can't argue with that."

They sit in silence as the cigarette's tip burns orange every now and then. The sky is the only thing they have to watch, and Bucky relaxes his back against the three.

Eventually, Morita speaks up again. "You think we're going somewhere cold? Hot?"

Something tells Bucky it'll be cold. He shivers at the feeling that sweeps through him like an omen. "I wanna say hot. My body says cold."

"Ah, fuck me." Morita stubs the tip on his boots' sole, and rests his back on the tree too with a big sigh. "If there ain't a single opportunity to drink 'till the cold is forgotten, 'm gonna find a way to blow that mustache motherfucker myself."

That makes Bucky laugh. "I wouldn't say no to that." I wanna go home. "Blow all of 'em up and we'll go home faster."

"Fuck, I wanna go home," the whisper is so soft that Bucky looks to the side, and finds Morita looking at him. "You ever thought we'd have to live through this bullshit?"

"Never."

"Me neither." Morita looks up at the sky. "My partner says humanity's clinging to the wrong shit and that's why we're losing our way."

Bucky heard Steve and his friends for long enough to recognize a cue when he sees one, and answers with, "They sound smart," before sighing deeply. "Mine says it was the break between the idea of 'technology' and separating that from nature that fucked us up."

It's the first time he talks about you with someone, and he feels that the information is stored safely.

"They sound smart, too," says Morita. "D'you think we'll get to go home for a bit?"

That's what they were told, but Bucky's learning not to trust people's words too much. "It's what they told us. I've been told not to trust bosses too much, though."

"Your partner said that?"

"Yup. She claims everyone who's in charge of others lies to some degree."

Morita's laugh is loud, and nasally. Bucky fucking adores it. "As someone with two kids, she sure knows what she's talking about."

"You lie to your kids a lot?"

Morita cackles. "Sarge—wait 'till you and your babe have kids, and then we'll exchange letters. There's either lying or losing our minds. Or losing the kid. So lying it is."

"I'll send you letters when it happens to ask for advice."

"I'll spare some for you."

Bucky likes the sound of that. "Tell me about your kids?"

The request is met with a smile, and Bucky forgets all about the wrongs and the dark sitting there with Morita.

In the back of his mind, all he thinks about is telling you all the good bits of this conversation later on.

He'll share everything with you.

And then, when the time comes, he'll come home.

↳ my inbox 💌 ↳ tip jar ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ☆ next chapter ☆

[dairyminki]

Rielleeeeee, congrats on your milestone darling, im so so proud of you!! I would like to request some fluff with Wooyoung, based off taylor swift's how you get the girl 🤍 Take your time and congrats once again, your event is cute like you 🤍

✨️part of my 300 milestone event 🪄

title: broke your heart, i'll put it back together (song: how you get the girl by taylor swift)

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

genre: exes to lovers, fluff, angst if you squint

warning/s: none

wc: 1.2k

a/n: oh sweet chip!! 🥺 stfu she called me cute im blushing i got a lil carried away with this hence the wc but likeee i hope i somehow put enough fluff here for u to enjoy?? hehe tysm again bby! ♡

* reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated!

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Wooyoung was soaking wet.

However, he doesn't mind in the very least. Not even when the fabric of his dress shirt and slacks uncomfortably clings to his body, the wetness of it all spreading goosebumps in his skin as the nightly air blows past him.

See he's not planning on giving up. Not until you open the door and hear him out. Standing outside your doorstep while the rain is pouring doesn't really faze him that much.

Truth be told, Wooyoung's supposed to be aboard the plane right now—completely missing his flight which was just a couple minutes ago. While some may have panicked, he's all but that. Although, he is a tad bit nervous.

Not because he knows his parents will be bombarding him with phone calls and text messages once they know that he's not on a plane returning to gloomy London tomorrow morning—the hell with London and his furious parents. Rather, it's mainly because of you, and you're the only one Wooyoung cares about right now, frankly.

You—who he didn't even get a glimpse of for half a year. Which he thinks he really deserves after deciding to leave you out of the blue. Well, not really out of the blue since he had his reasons, and yeah, well…that's another story for later.

The thing is, tonight wasn't really planned in the slightest. In fact, Wooyoung, coming to your college reunion was a spontaneous decision made by him after Kang Yeosang—one of your friends—accidentally let the fact, that you'll be attending said reunion, slip out from his blabbering mouth.

That random information which luckily fell in Wooyoung's grasp spurred him to grab any clothing his eyes could land on and come rushing in his car to attend tonight's reunion which he so adamantly refused to go to.

And Wooyoung is glad that he did go. Because, as soon as he steps inside the nostalgic campus grounds and through the long hallway leading towards the gymnasium, he sees you.

You who looked stunning dressed in that white dress he had gifted you way back then, just barely a year in your relationship. Wooyoung bought that dress with the thought of putting a ring on your finger someday.

And he is hoping that despite all that's been said and done between you two, that 'someday' will still be just right around the corner.

If only you'd just open up and hear his words tonight, then it possibly would.

The heavens above might just be hearing his pleas, or he just looks too pathetic already that they can't stand a second longer of seeing him standing under the rain—if he's really unlucky, they might even send down a lightning bolt or something.

Wooyoung squints his eyes when he sees the beige curtains on your window move slightly. He wasn't sure at first if he was just seeing things, but then he catches sight of how one of your dangly earrings subtly produced a needle-like flash due to the LED lights on your porch.

His heart does a little leap at the fact of you peeking at him and the possibility of you opening the door.

But that moment of subtle joy fades when you open the door and then it reveals you—you with puffy eyes and a red nose. His heart almost breaks at the sight of you just hesitatingly opening the door even wider.

"You're insane." Were your first words to him that night.

"It's just a little rain," He replies, offering the smallest of smiles, not really sure how to react now that you're finally facing each other.

You sniffle and shake your head, for a second, you look down at your fiddling hands, and then you're looking back at him, gaze sharp, "Why are you here, Wooyoung?"

"I- well, I—"

"Why am I even talking to you?" You sigh, already moving to close the door but of course he puts a foot in, preventing the door from shutting on his face, and preventing you from shutting him away from your life furthermore.

"I'm really not supposed to be here right now, but here I am," Wooyoung spits out in a rush. "Please, just…hear me out?" He asks, his voice sounding out to be a lot smaller.

"Woo-" You stop yourself, sighing, "Come on in, let's get you dry first."

You were too nice, too nice even to someone who broke your heart, Wooyoung thinks. But that's why he's here, hell-bent on fixing things with you and proving to you that he won't do that same mistake of leaving you ever again.

"You're wearing the dress. I thought…you threw it already," Wooyoung speaks up by the time you come back to him with a towel and some spare clothes. His old clothes, he takes note.

"Y-Yeah, I thought it'd be suitable for the theme of the reunion." You shrug, handing him the towel while you hang the clean clothes on the sofa's arm. And then he hears you clear your throat.

"I know you're still drying yourself up, but…why are you here, Woo?"

"Funny you should ask me that because I should be in a plane back to London right now but-"

"You missed your flight?!" You cut off his ramblings with a shout.

"Willingly, Y/N. I missed my flight willingly and I'm very pleased with it." Wooyoung smirks.

"What would your-"

"And that is why you should hear me out tonight or my sacrifice would literally mean nothing," Wooyoung replies with a pout, and then he spreads the towel on half of the sofa, sits down, and then pats the empty space, that was also wet towel-free, beside him.

Wooyoung goes on about his mistakes, his reasons, and countless of apologies while you fiddled with the hem of your dress for most of it.

"I mean, i-it's only been six months, Woo. The memory is still fresh and…" You don't get to finish what you were saying as the tears finally escape you. Wooyoung immediately cups your face in his hands and wipes the tears that keep coming, his touch, ever so gentle.

"I would wait forever and ever. Because I want you for worse or for better, and everything in between, Y/N." He whispers, already in tears as well, and when your previously quivering lips break into a smile, he does the same.

But then, Wooyoung's phone resounds with a ding, which got both of your attention. You were the first one to look away and stare at the phone on the table, an audible gasp leaving your mouth when you saw the picture that served as his lockscreen.

"You never changed it…" You point out, looking back at him and seeing Wooyoung's lips break into an even wider grin.

A picture taken during the 26th of November, Wooyoung's birthday. A picture of him kissing you on the cheek while you're wearing your brightest smile. A picture he randomly self-captured with his phone as soon as his lips met the softness of your cheek—your giggles filling the entire apartment.

It was the same day that he gave you that dress, and the very day that you finally said yes to him being your boyfriend. The day you officially became his other half, and he, yours.

[pxrxcxa]

What are friends for

✶ One shot

Pairing | Eddie x Female reader 18+.

Post summary | Eddie & y/n have been friends for as long as they can remember, platonic soulmates as his Uncle Wayne called them. But when one of their usual late night sesh talks takes a heated turn, they show each other the real meaning of friendship.

What to expect | 18 + so minors DNI

Post Warnings | Smut, p & v unprotected sex, f & m oral, Eddie Dom, but still being a sweetheart.

Word count | 3.7 K Word Count.

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

Authors Note | I'm posting this at 12 am on my birthday as a little gift from me to you, thank you for being patient while I've worked on my series. I've been planning on getting some more OneShots out, so hopefully you've enjoyed this one.

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I snatched the joint hanging between Eddie’s lips, grinning at him playfully as he glanced up at me in frustration.

“Don’t you ever go home?” He remarked condescendingly, taking the blunt back as I blew smoke towards him. I was lounged across his soft carpeted floor on my stomach, flipping through Eddies nudie mags, laughing and giving him shit over the pages he’d dog eared. He was resting against his headboard, stringing his guitar string seductively, watching me kick my legs back in forth in the air. I watched his long fingers stroke the cords softly, as heat flooded my cheeks and my legs throbbed. I averted my eyes, cursing the weed for hiking up my libido ten times its normal strength. 

“Your place is better - case in point.” I smiled widely as his Uncle Wayne hovered at the bedroom door, looking down on us fondly. 

“It wouldn’t kill you two to open a window now and again.” He teased, as Eddie and I passed the blunt back and forth. 

“You heading off to work Wayne?” I rested my feet back on the ground and angled my body so I could look up at him better. I watched Eddie out of the corner of my eye pull a blanket over him to cover his lower half. 

“Yeah, make sure you guys sleep early for school tomorrow. If I catch you guys ditching again, you’re both going to be in trouble.” His denim jacket flapped behind him as he sauntered down the hallway. 

“Oh, we’re gonna sleep alright.’ I wiggled my brows at Eddie suggestively, earning a deep laugh as he chucked a pillow down at me. 

“You’re an idiot.” I joined in on his laughter as my eyes fell back to the magazine in my hands. I smiled as the soft music picked up again, rebounding off the walls of his small room. Most people misjudged Eddie, those that didn’t know him – hated him. But as someone that was lucky enough to be in his inner circle, having been friends since middle school when I punched a kid out for making fun of his buzz cut, I was privy to his secret soft side he kept hidden away from the critical world. 

I was glad that we had made up from our fight earlier, foreign jealousy had flooded through me when I caught him sneaking back from the woods with Chrissy Cunningham in tow, after first period. I had barely given him a second to breathe as he slid into his usual seat beside me at lunch, before unleashing a mass of profanities. Confusion clouding his face at my reaction, he grabbed my chin to force me to look at him, explaining that he was just dealing to her. My eyes had dropped from his in embarrassment, the rest of the table silent as my outburst hung in the air heavily. 

“Jealous much y/n?” He teased, breaking into a mischievous grin. I punched his arm lightly, the tension disappearing between us completely as the topic of conversation turned to Hellfire. 

I refused to acknowledge whatever feelings seeing him with some other girl that wasn’t me, had stirred up inside of me. Eddie was my best friend, nothing else was worth to risking losing that.

I glanced up at him now, watching his dark curls twist at the base of his neck over his collar bones, a fresh cigarette between his teeth since we’d polished off the weed. He must have sensed my gaze as his eyes flew up to meet mine, something flashing in his eyes as I dropped mine in embarrassment at being caught staring. 

I turned my attention back to the pages I flicked through quickly, stopping abruptly as a familiar pair of eyes stared back at me. I slowly lowered my hand and smoothed the page out, I saw that it wasn’t my face that stared back at me as I’d thought, just a very similar looking underwear model. She was lounging on a couch, the image spreading across both pages. Apart from the fact that her body was perfectly airbrushed, I swore she was a dead ringer for me. Same sized tits, similar body shape and identical eyes. 

“Hey look at this.” I said, sitting up abruptly, only to find Eddie’s eyes still trained on me. “She looks like me, don’t you think?” I laughed, to distract myself from the intensity of his glare. I tossed it onto the end of the bed between us, landing with a light smacking sound as the pages crinkled together. He eyes flashed away from it instantly, recognition flaring in his face. 

“Uh yeah, maybe, I don’t know, I can’t really see the resemblance.” Eddies’ face went bright red, looking everywhere except for me as he sat up off the side of the bed, readjusting his jeans. I glanced back down to the magazine, realising only too slow that the open page of the model was also dog eared, crumpled viciously around the edges like someone had opened the mag to that exact page one too many times. 

“Oh.” I whispered, drawing Eddie’s attention back to me as he gauged my reaction. I fixed my stare onto his face, never leaving it as I reached to my hips, pulling my shirt that was tucked into my jeans up over my head and tossing it into a corner of his room. Eddie gulped nervously as my breasts swelled over my bra, a sight that he had never seen before. His eyes trailed down my stomach as I undid my belt, refusing to meet my eyes as I spoke. 

“It’s late, we should head to bed Eddie.” I swiped an old hellfire t-shirt off his dresser and skipped to the bathroom, my heart pounding as heat blossomed in my lower abdomen. It wasn’t unusual for me to sleep in his bed with him when I stayed over, both of us were too stubborn to take the couch. I had said it would be the gentlemen thing for him to do, but Eddie argued back that it was ‘his bed so his rules.” We compromised by usually building a pillow wall between us. 

When I headed back to his room, wearing only his shirt, Eddie had already turned the lights down and snapped open his bedroom window, knowing that I liked to sleep with a breeze pouring through the room. He was gently resting above the covers, playing with the draw strings of his pyjama pants and not wearing a shirt, naturally. He had taken advantage over my absence to get changed quickly as well, leaving his jeans pooled in a mess next to the bed. I picked them up for him and folded them over his desk chair, sliding in next to him under the covers. He didn’t look up or say anything as I snuggled down next to him, but I heard his breathing increase. 

“Hey Eds.” I murmured, listening to him squirm next to me as he adjusted himself into a comfortable position.

“Yes y/n?” He answered cautiously, smiling to myself at his uneasiness, letting him dangle for a little bit. He nudged my back with his knee when I didn’t respond instantly. 

“I’m glad we’re okay after this morning.”  He huffed out a relieved breath and huddle down under the blankets with me, he’d neglected to build a pillow wall between us this time so I could feel the intense heat radiating off his body, I pushed my freezing toes against his legs, electing an annoyed groan from Eddie. 

“S’all good sweetheart, what are friends for.” He whispered, letting my frozen limbs assault him without further complaint. His hot breath fanned across the back of my neck, sending shivers up my spine as he quickly fell into a deep slumber. 

I envied how fast Eddie managed to fall asleep as I tossed and turned hours later, my earlier frustrations bubbling up to the surface. The throbbing had returned between my legs as I became acutely aware of Eddies hulking form towering over me. 

Fuck it, our friendship was strong enough to withstand anything. 

I pushed myself backwards, pressing my ass into his crotch and grinding softly, his soft snores haltered as a strong hand shot out to grip my hip, holding me in place. 

“What are you doing?” His gruff voice broke through the darkness. 

“What does it look like?” I shot back sarcastically, rubbing my ass up and down, grinning as I felt him harden under the sheets between us. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” I scoffed slightly at him, both of us were anything but innocent, I had gotten around almost as much as Eddie had. We even shared sex tips, as cute besties did.

“That’s not what your dick thinks.” I nodded beneath the covers, turning my head slightly to get a look at his expression. His hand tightened at my hip, almost ripping the fabric away that sat there. My breath hitched in my throat and my confidence faltered as his eyes darkened, hunger taking over his face. 

“That’s not what I mean, if you keep going y/n… I’m not going to be able to stop.” He allowed some room between us as I turned over to lay on my back, he was half hovering over me now, his hand still at my side. His shirt that I was wearing had ridden up to expose my abdomen and my silky underwear, his eyes travelled down my chest to devour the sight. 

“If you don’t roll over and go back to sleep right now y/n” He warned, his hand moving up to caress my waist. “We can’t go back.” 

His eyes sent an unforeseen knife of need through me, twisting in the pit of my abdomen as a recognizable craving grew there. 

I bit my lip and cupped his cheek, tracing the outline of his lips with my nails. 

“I don’t want to go back.” I moaned. It was enough to push us both over the edge, he flattened himself against my body as I wrapped my legs around his waist, ripping the sheets out of the way that tangled around us. He crushed his lips to mine as a desperate moan escaped him, the sound drove me crazy as I knotted my hands in his hair. He pulled me forward from the pillows, pausing for a moment to run his eyes over my shielded body. 

“You look so fucking sexy in my shirt y/n.” He groaned, running his hands down the sides of my stomach. As he reached the hem of the shirt, he ripped it over my head.

“But even better with it off.” He nodded to himself, his hands immediately reaching to cup my breasts through my lacy bra. He buried his head in the crook of my neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin under my jaw. I gasped loudly and smacked his shoulders. 

“No hickeys.” He bit my neck once more before wrapping a large hand around it and squeezing lightly. My eyes widened as he pulled back to look at me, his face aflame with need. 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to. You understand?” I nodded meekly as pleasure wracked my brain from the lack of oxygen. He smirked at my reaction, knowing I had a thing for dominant men, I had told him more than enough times during our late-night talks. I had started off in control, but Eddie had ripped it from my grasp. I reached up behind me to unclasp my bra, but his soft hands quickly stopped me. 

“Actually y/n, I’ve been fantasising about this for as long as I can remember. I want to savour every moment.”

He laid me back gently against his bed, tracing kisses from my jaw line down my sternum, he caressed the side of my neck where his fingertips had pushed into. As he made his way to the top of my panties his eyes flicked up through his lashes to gaze at my face, I stared down at him nervously, not having to imagine how good he was going to be at eating pussy. We had spent hours going back and forth, teaching each other how to be good hook-ups for other people. Now I was about to find out if he’d paid any attention. 

I spread my legs wider to make more room for him as he settled between my thighs, nibbling at the soft inner skin there, leaving wet kisses behind as he travelled the length of my legs, teasing me beyond what should been allowed. He skimmed his palm across my clothed pussy, he barely touched me, but it still sent a bolt of pleasure through me. 

“Jesus, y/n, you’re so wet already.” he laughed, sending vibrations through my body as he brought his mouth close to my clit, looking up at me teasingly as I squirmed. 

“Shut it Munson.” I groaned, trying to wiggle down and close the distance but his strong arm pressed down on my abdomen, keeping me in place. 

“Patience baby.” He traced a long finger up and down my slit, pressing against my entrance through my panties. 

I gasped and moaned as his thumb made slight circles around my clit.

“Eddie, please I’m begging you. Oh fuck.” I nearly screamed as he pulled my panties to the side and his mouth replaced his thumb. His deep laugh at the way I writhed, between my thighs did unspeakable things to my body. He gently suckled at my sweet spot, pulling on it between his teeth softly. I dug my nails into his arm still stretched across my stomach for support. He reached up with his free hand to pull my bra down, freeing both of my tits. His fingers twisted and pinched my nipples painfully until they both became erect, as his tongue continued to lap at my pussy, increasing the wetness that saturated the sheets beneath me already. He moved his hand down back between my thighs as I moaned his name, the burning heat growing closer to the edge with each lick.  

“Fuck you taste so good y/n” He moaned between my legs “Even better than I thought.” He brought a finger to my entrance and slipped it into the base of his knuckle, not giving me any time to adapt to the feeling of it. He lifted his head up to watch me shudder beneath his touch, his eyes twinkling with excitement and his chin dripping wet. I laughed and gasped as his finger curled inside of me, as I reached down to wipe myself off his face, bringing my own fingers back to my mouth to suck the taste of me off of them. His pace increased as he hovered over me, adding an extra finger in to stretch me as far as I would go. 

“Say my name. I wanna hear you say who’s making you feel this good.” He brought his face close to mine, biting my lip as he pumped away between my legs. I couldn’t speak, I could barely breath as my orgasm threatened to spill over. Sensing I was close he sat back on his heels, pulling his fingers out from me and licking my essence off them, I grabbed his hand as it fell to his side and shoved his fingers as far as they’d go down my throat, moaning at the taste of me as I watched his eyes roll back into his head. 

With a jolt he reached back down between my shaking legs, entrapping my clit between two of his knuckles and rolling it back and forth, his rings gently clinking together. 

“Eddie I wanna cum.” I complained impatiently, my abdomen clenching. 

“Not yet baby, not yet.” I sat forward out of his grasp and quickly snapped the  draw strings of his pants loose, running my hands along his v-line. Two could play at this game, I thought. He threw his head back as I pulled his pants down, allowing his cock to spring free. When he had boasted to me about whatever hook-up he found at his usual bar, I thought he had been exaggerating about his size, as most guys did. But Eddie was huge to the point it sent a stab of fear shooting through me. Glancing up at him through my lashes approvingly, he grinned down at me, being able to read my mind as always. 

“Impressed are you y/n?” I smirked at him and began twisting my hand up and down his shaft, pooling salvia in my mouth. 

“You should know by now, I’m no liar-“ His droning was effectively cut off as I took the tip of him into my warm mouth, his salty pre cum washing over my tongue. I removed him with a little pop and licked from the base of his cock to the tip, dribbling a little to make my hand slide up and down easier. He groaned and put his hands behind his head, arching his hips forward to try and push himself further into my mouth. 

“Patience baby.” I mocked him, smiling up at him as I leant forward on my knees, arching my own back so he could see my ass a little better from his position. 

“Fuckkkk y/n, you look so pretty like that.” I moaned as I slid his entire cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue, Eddie shuddered and wrapped his hands in my hair, gently guiding my head back and forth. I sucked in my cheeks to tighten the warm feeling around his cock, he twitched with pleasure and rammed forward into my face. I choked and gagged, he pulled back instantly, his tip resting against my swollen lips. 

“Shit y/n, are you okay? Sorry I didn’t mean to do that.” He wiped a tear falling down my check, worry clouding his face. I kissed his palm to tell him it was okay and brought his dick back into my mouth gently, picking up a constant pace, tickling his balls like I know he loved. His hand moved from my face to cup the back of my neck, but more carefully this time. He started thrusting faster as I felt him getting close, as he moaned deliciously, I pulled away from him. He looked down at me incredulously.

“Wait what, come back y/n.” He tried to grab me, but I shuffled back up the bed, spreading my legs seductively as an invitation. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Eddie, did you wanna cum?” I smiled deviously as he watched me play with myself, teasing him. “Tell me about the model in the mag by the way, did you pretend she was me when you were jerking off to it?”

‘You’re in trouble now.” He growled, reaching up to my ankles and dragging me back down the bed. I squealed as he pulled me against him, crushing his lips to mine as I smiled. With my legs still in his grip, he crossed them over so quickly that I flipped and landed face down in the mattress. I gasped as his intention hit me. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his hands around my hips and wrenched my pelvis backwards against his waist, his hard cock pressing against my clothed slit. 

“Let me show you what I imagined when I was jerking off over you y/n.” I could hear in his voice that he was smirking, and I reached between my legs to clasp his balls. He gasped and dug his hands into my skin. 

“Are you gonna talk or fuck me Munson?” He didn’t hesitate as he pulled my panties to the side and plunged into me, struggling a bit as he was more than I had ever been used to. We moaned as the sensation of my walls opening up to him hit us both. He paused as he bottomed out in me, letting me get used to the size of him, both of us gasping to catch our breaths. He grabbed my free hand to pin behind my back, his rings digging into my skin as he pressed down on me slightly, beginning to thrust into me. Each moan of pleasure he fucked from my body brought us both closer to the edge, our noises turning animalistic as we both raced towards our release. As my body began to convulse, he stopped and flipped me back over so I faced him, pushing back into me before I could miss the feeling of him.

“I want to watch that pretty face of yours while you cum y/n.” I gasped and pressed my mouth against his, running my tongue along his bottom lip to taste his delectable scent. At the feel of my mouth, he fucked me harder, keeping up the steady pace as my legs locked around him. I hid my face away in the crook of his neck while waves of pleasure crashed over me, he cried out in pain as I bit down on the soft patch of skin near his shoulder, my nails leaving matching scratches in his back. He fucked me through my orgasm until he pulled out and released his own across my stomach, shivering as he held himself above my frame, the prettiest noises I’d ever heard tumbling from his mouth. 

Eddie rolled to the side and held me tight for a moment, pressing a kiss to the top of my hair before jumping off the bed and grabbing a random shirt from the floor. I moved my hand from swirling pretty patterns in his mixture as he gently wiped it off of me, he poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth while he made sure to clean all of it off of me. 

“I think that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had Eddie.” I breathed as a cloud of ecstatic bliss surrounded me. He grinned up at me through his beautiful lashes. 

“That’s what friends are for.” He joked, sitting up on the bed next to me to clean himself up. As he tossed the shirt away and pulled a cigarette to his mouth, I swung my leg over to straddle him, pushing his hands above his head against the bed frame, the gentle click of the handcuffs echoing around us as I wrapped them around his wrists, locking him into place. 

“My turn Munson.” I grinned, stealing the cigarette from his lips. 

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Also Readers - if anyone is looking for a slow burn Eddie x y/n, check out my Opposite Ends series.

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Copyright © 2022 by P.McCann

All rights reserved.

[thisisarcanereverie]

Cutting Ties (Dark! Moon Knight x Reader) Part 2

A/N: This is Part 2 of a 3 Part fic. (Here is Part 1!) This is also a dark fic so please DNI Minors and others. (I got a little carried away with this idea Anon so thank you for the suggestion)

Now if you can interact or want to, please do! Like, reblog, reply!

DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS: kidnapping, angst (like a ridiculous amount of it), light cursing, I've never been to London or England in general so I'm going based off of what I've seen, English is my first language I just suck at it. I do not own the picture above but i DO own the header below, it's something that I made. I might make a few others idk. Enjoy!

Summary: You're a former Widow on the run, only in London for a year you meet Steven Grant, a goofy gift shoppist. But is there more that meets the eye?

For as long as you could remember you were not your own. Your name, your face, your mind, your body, even your own autonomy was not your own. It had always belonged to Dreykov and to his Red Room. Then, suddenly, the very color that controlled you, freed you. The red powder burned your eyes for a moment before suddenly it felt like you could breathe again. 

It was strange how one’s life can completely turn on its head in a matter of moments. 

One moment you were another Widow, easily expendable and replaced and the next you were…new. At least that’s what it felt like, you no longer existed at the whim of another. You weren’t a chess piece on the board, you were now a player. 

You remembered the day the Red Room fell as the best day of your life. 

There were so many things you could do, there were so many possibilities. 

You just weren’t prepared for the reality of it. 

That despite the mind control and the lack of autonomy, you still hurt people, at the end of the day it was your finger that pulled the trigger. You would wake in the middle of the night still haunted by those faces with a red mark between their eyes. It felt like you couldn’t escape from the Red Room you concocted in your mind, that no matter how hard you tried you will always be a Widow. So instead of fighting it, you gave in. 

You had offers, from SHIELD to Tony Stark himself. Which surprised you, but in the end you decided you didn’t want the spotlight on you and were a merc for a while. It was gritty, but it was work you knew well. You thought you could do it but the first time you were ordered to kill you couldn’t. They were innocent, they were just there at the wrong time. So you killed your boss instead, grabbed what you could, and left. You made enemies that day, one that would love to see your head gifted to them on a silver plate. 

You called Natasha after that, you weren’t sure what else to do. You didn’t know anyone else, you were completely alone. She gave you this guy's number, said that he would help you disappear and with whatever else you may need. You could feel her wink on the other end of the phone as you wrote down his information. 

Since then you’ve been running, changing addresses and identities every couple of years to stay ahead of people who may want you dead. Her friend would give you new identities and you would exchange with money that you earned at jobs you would work. For a while you were content with being alone, working everyday and coming back to your place to eat food you previously were never able to eat and watching tv. Then you met Steven Grant, Marc Spector, and Jake Lockley. Then suddenly you realized how gray your life had become, how long you had merely survived and what living actually meant—even if you were merely living a lie. All at once you were no longer alone, someone held you at night and kissed your blood-soaked hands. 

For the first time in your life…you felt clean. 

But that had all been a delusion. 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You woke up in pain, your head throbbed and your limbs felt weighted down, as though someone had thrown two weighted blankets on top of you. You willed your eyes to open and was greeted with an unfamiliar ceiling. You squinted your eyes as you looked toward the open window, watched as the powder blue curtains danced gently as the breeze blew in. You weren’t sure how long you’ve been asleep, last time you remember it was nighttime and….

Rain

Pinching

Jake.

You took a sharp breath in and shot up from the bed as your hand went to the side of your neck, Jake had drugged you–and from the look of things–abducted you as well. Why would he do this? Did he act alone or did Steven and Marc help him? All these questions swarmed your mind but one question stood out. 

Have you been blind?

You shakily made your way to the open window, sure enough it was morning, and sure enough you weren’t in London. As far as you could tell you could be miles away from the nearest village let alone London. How long had they been planning this? To already have a second place squared away, ready, were you the first to be here or the latest addition. 

“You’re up.” 

You swerved your head as you looked beside you, your skin crawled and blood turned into ice as you looked at him. Upright posture, hair a little less unkempt, and a twinge of a chicago accent dripped in his voice. 

Marc. 

You opened your mouth to speak only for a small, pathetic squeak to sound instead of words. Your hand reached for your throat and realized for the first time how absolutely parched you were. Like you hadn’t had any water in days. 

“Here,” he handed you a glass of water which you greedily accepted, you didn’t bother breathing as you chugged the glass he gave. After the soreness in your throat subsided a little and hummed to warm up vocal cords that had not been used in a while. You put the glass on the window sill  and looked  at him and at the tray he was previously holding. Turkey Bacon and Eggs, it was Marc's favorite breakfast, one he had made you dozens of times whenever he was sorry for something. 

You were silent as you looked at him further, he wore sweatpants and a t- shirt, both clearly slept in. The tan of his skin glowed in the morning light and it looked like he ran his fingers through his dark curls once or twice. There was something unsettling about him though, one that made the hair on the back of your neck stand, something that wasn’t there before. 

Those eyes. 

You flinch a little as he raises a hand, only for him to retract it. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, his voice uncharacteristically small. You debated on what to say, what was there to say? You had so many questions and yet you could not speak. You weren’t even sure if you were just dreaming, it almost seems like a dream. A house far away from everything and everyone, and your boys were right there with you bringing you breakfast in bed. You were partially worried that you would wake up and find yourself sleeping in a plane seat millions of miles away from them, but the other part of you worried that you would never wake up. 

“How long?” you finally spoke, voice still hoarse. A moment of silence fell before he answered. 

“I can’t tell you.” Marc says lowering his eyes, something he does when he has something to hide. 

“Did Steven or Jake tell you that,” You fidgeted with the sleeve of your shirt.

“Neither.” 

“You have to let me go,” You finally said, voice getting a little less hoarse the more you speak. “Please.” 

“Stop,” He said looking at you finally with a hard look in his eyes, “Stop saying you have to leave. You don’t need to leave.”  

“Yes I do,” you emphasized, you held his face in order to hold his gaze, “there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, things that I’ve lied about. That person you fell in love with isn’t me, I’ve done horrible things-” 

“I know-” 

“No you don’t.” 

“Yes,” he said, grabbing your wrist with an intense look in his eyes, “I do.” 

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on you and stuck a fork in an outlet all at the same time. There was no way he could know, at least, not everything. 

“I know that you used to be a Black Widow,” he said, taking a step towards you, the grip on your wrist tightening, “you’ve killed, lied, and stole from many people including me.” his nose brushed with yours as you tried to steady your breathing. 

“How could you know all that?” You asked, whispered, your mind was pounding in time with your heart as he leaned closer to your ear. 

“I also know you used to be a mercenary,” you heard him whisper in your ear, his breath ghosting over the goosebumps that formed on your skin, “that’s how we met.” you stopped breathing as he leaned slightly away from you, far enough for you to look him in the eyes. Dark eyes that held the sun in them. 

Oh

Oh. 

The last job you went on you worked with a team, you never saw his face and he was never much of a talker. You just remember his eyes as he held a gun to you ready to shoot…only to lower the gun and let you get away. 

That had been Marc. 

Without a second thought you ripped your wrist from his grip and grabbed the glass laying on the nightstand throwing it at him. Your heart pounded as you made your way through the open door, sure to close and block it before he had time to reach it. You were sure by now you were on the verge of a heart attack with how loudly your heart was pounding. You could hear Marc on the other side banging the door with his fists. You had no plan, your heart was breaking all over again and your entire body has gone into a fight and flight zone. You made your way down the wooden stairs skipping every other step, unafraid of the small fall you have on the last step before you regained balance and ran straight through the front door. Even from outside you can still hear him banging and screaming, you tried to decide where the best place to run to when the banging stopped. It wasn’t in Marc's nature to give up so you look behind you, he wasn’t coming down the stairs either. What the hell? 

Then you heard a familiar grunt and footsteps above you. 

The open window. 

All at once it didn’t matter where you ran to as long as you ran. Your feet carried you swiftly into the tree lining of the woods surrounding the house. The adrenaline coursing through your veins hid the pain of the cuts and barbs that scratched you as you pushed them aside. Your goal was to run, or to find a pointy enough stick or a sharp enough stone to throw at him, but mainly run and hide. 

You weren’t sure how long you ran, all you knew was that your lungs were on fire and you couldn’t feel your limbs. You knew you couldn’t run much further, at least, not at full speed. So you went to the nearest, sturdy tree you could find and climbed, you grabbed one branch after another. The bark dug into sensitive parts of your hand but you didn’t care, you could see your arms shaking as they pulled you up to that final branch. It seemed strong enough to hold your weight and shielded enough to provide cover. 

One of the things the Red Room taught you was to assess weakness and who had the advantage. Marc had the advantage when it came to muscle mass, but you had experience–granted those were mainly espionage missions that required more brains than combat prowess. You always carried a gun on you,  but if he was smart (which you know he is) he took that away and was carrying it with him now.  

All this time, you thought he loved you and that you were protecting him. You never even suspected the truth, he seemed so familiar and you had that gut instinct that something was up but you ignored it. All this time everything had been a lie, he didn’t love you, he was finishing the job. How long did he have his eye on you before he made a move? 

Stop! You didn’t have time to mourn, you had to focus on surviving. 

You halted your greedy intakes of air as you heard rustling in the leaves. Careful not to make the slightest sound as you saw him run past, calling your name. You waited until you slowly couldn’t hear the crackling of the leaves before beginning your descent. Time was of the essence, at some point Marc will come back to retrace steps, so you had to make another break in a different direction he had gone. Maybe back to the house and hotwire the beat up jeep you saw in the driveway. Once there you would make it to the second nearest village because the nearest would be the first place he’ll look, use one of those grimy old payphones to call in your ID guy. 

Your feet had barely touched the ground before you felt the wind being knocked out of you as you tackled the ground. You were pinned before you could push Marc off of you, unable to do much but struggle in his grip. 

“Do it,” you growled while still fighting, “I’m not going to stop fighting but if you’re going to do it, do it now.” 

“Do what now?!” His eyes wide and intense, his grip becoming tighter on your wrists again. 

“Kill me!” You yell, “that’s what all this has been for, hasn’t it? I killed your boss and stole a lot of money and relics from the people who hired us. A lot of different people want me dead, a lot of powerful people who can make things happen want me dead for more than this. Once you kill me you’ll have your pick of the litter. Whatever you want.” You see his brows furrow as you feel his breath ghost over your lips. 

“Have you ever thought that maybe what I wanted was you?” He pecked your lips once before continuing, “that I intended to keep you for myself rather than sell you to the highest bidder.” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Cause I love you,” Marc said, pinning your hands above your head with one hand while the other caressed your cheek, “I have since we met on those desolate dunes, that has never been a lie.” you can feel his heartbeat as he lays his weight down on top of you, like so many times before, as his words swirl around your head. Your first thought was that he was lying, how could he not be? Deep down, however, as you looked him in the eyes you were reminded that Marc was many things–but a good liar was not one of them. 

“You can love me,” you say, “and still betray me.” you hear him let out a frustrated groan as he drops his head to your shoulder. You can feel his grip tighten before he lets your wrist go, and his weight on you is gone leaving you strangely cold. For a moment you think he’s letting you go, a foolish thought, one full of hope. 

You were wrong. 

No sooner had you gotten off the ground yourself, your feet were dangling above the ground as you were swung over his shoulder like you weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Had this been ANY different situation your knees would be weak for a different reason. 

Once again you fought, kicking and screaming. He wasn’t going to kill you, not yet, but you were honest when you said you weren’t going down without a fight. You didn’t even register entering the house until he sat you on the couch with an unceremonious plop, his hands gripping your shoulders and a frustrated look in his eye. 

“What is it going to take to get you to believe me?” He said, voice low edging on a growl. 

“Give me one good reason to believe that you wouldn’t give me up.” You said, eyes narrowing, “a reason that I would believe.'' There was a beat of silence, you see his brows furrowed together as his brain itches for an answer that you know he wouldn’t have. He has betrayed you and has all the reasons in the world to sacrifice you to the altar. 

Then the lights starting flickering, 

The hairs on your neck stood on end as you felt a shift in the air, the lights flickering and a hum of something else. Something you’ve never encountered before. Then you see the bandages wrapping themselves around Marc like snakes and his eyes were no longer the dark color you used to adore. They glowed now like moonlight reflecting off of water. 

Of course. 

You’ve seen the small articles in the paper passing by or clickbait news in the media about London’s vigilante who called themselves Moon Knight. You usually never paid much attention to it, you rarely were out past dark anyway why would you? Maybe you should’ve. 

“If I wanted anything that they have,” You hear him say as the mask unbound itself to reveal his face, “I would’ve just taken it, and they couldn’t have stopped me.” 

“You’re moon knight.” Of course the first person you fall in love with is not only a mercenary, but also a superpowered vigilante. Your life hasn’t been ordinary, why would your love life be?! You groaned in frustration as you leaned your head back against the couch, “well that explains why you always look exhausted and always came back home at weird hours.” 

“You knew about that?” He asked, you gave him a deadpan look, “...of course you did.” You look at him for a moment and replayed every moment in your head leading up to this, he had a point. With these powers he really could have walked into any place, taken what he wanted, and left. He wouldn’t have needed you, but why keep you?

“Ok,” you start, “so you don’t intend to sell me or kill me or whatever.”

“I’ve been telling yo-” 

“But why keep me?” You ask, “Why bring me here? Based on this house and location it is-”

“Everything you ever wanted.” Marc finished, his grip softening on your shoulders, “a small house with a sunroom, far away from everyone, a place to plant flowers and a lot more sun than what you got in the city…A home.” 

“This would’ve taken at least half a year to build,” you say, “and another few weeks to a month to draft up the plans. So that means that you have been planning on bringing me here since-” 

“Since fate decided to give us a second chance,” he said, “I couldn’t follow you before and lost you, trust me I tried to follow you but you were so damn good at running and hiding that I couldn’t find you. Then, one day, I see you on the bus. I was a fly on the wall, Steven was in charge, but I saw you. You have no idea how badly I wanted to talk to you, but seeing how you fled before, I knew I had to be patient. I told Steven everyday to talk to you, building him up until he eventually sat next to you.” You see him laugh a little, “I really shouldn’t have kept him up the night before, but it all turned out alright.” 

He was sick, you knew this from the beginning, you just never looked below the surface of it. He needed help, something you couldn’t give him here. 

“Baby,” You said softly, holding his hands as he knelt down in front of you, kissing the tops of his still bandaged covered hands, before leaning your forehead against his, you had to be calm. You had to convince him with honey and not vinegar. “Thank you so much for doing this, it must have been so much work.” You start, lowering your voice to barely a whisper, already sensing the tension leaving his body, “you must be so tired.” 

“I am.” 

“I’m just worried for you,” you said brushing your nose against his, “maybe we should see someone hmm? Like a specialist or a doctor, get you some melatonin or some medicine to help you sleep.” You feel him shake his head before you gently shush him, bringing a hand to cup his stubbly cheek, “just to help you sleep.” 

“I don’t need them.” He says definitely, “I have you.”

“And you’ll always have me.” You promise, “let’s just call and make the appointment, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to help.” 

“No,” he mumbles quietly at first, “no” a little louder, “I don’t-” 

“Do it for me?” You ask, fluttering your eyelashes and giving him a small smile, “please baby.” gently moving your hand to scratch the nape of his neck you knew he was putty. 

“Ok,” he agrees. 

“Ok,” you quietly repeat, trying to keep your tone even, “how about we call them right now and make an appointment?” 

“No.” 

“Ok,” you say, rubbing soothing circles on the back of his neck, “we don’t need to call them right now but in a short bit here, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

You breathe in, “yeah.”

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Valentine’s Day, A Flying Graysons One-Shot

The following is a sort of one shot that’s just decided to come up to me on this lovely Valentine’s Day which seems appropriate enough. I don’t feel there’s really much a plot present, this is just some family based fluff for funsies sake.

It’s dedicated to my good friends @confusedhummingbird @spider-jaysart @lightdusk96 @camo-wolf @theredheaded-stuff @sbd-laytall @starlightbelle @adalineozie @discowingneckline @celaenaeiln @sillymanwithocs @mothnem and many more.

If you can leave a like, but especially reblogs and replies to this one, it’ll be greatly appreciated. I will address any to all constructive criticism and comments.

With that out of the way, on with the show….

Two pairs of feet, one clad in slippers and the other small one without anything on, very lightly padded on the carpeting of the trailer right outside the main master bedroom. Within said bedroom, was lying the third member of their troop, their little performing, their small family; she was peacefully snoring underneath the blankets draped over her, her two feet, bare with the red nail polished toes pointing upwards, mostly perfectly still, and most peculiarly a cardboard ID tag like one can find in the most morbid of places hanging off her right big toe, poking out of one end while her dark red unbraided hair was uncovered at the other. The two figures outside the room, a father and his 9 year old son, are quite prepared for such a day like this. It’s not every single day when people close to each other, like their small little family, can give each other heart shaped gifts or any other sort with that message that carries within them. The message being of “You are a person that’s always there for my heart and I cherishe you in the unique way we do”.

With Dick Grayson’s hands carefully holding the wooden dinner tray, packed with a plate covered up by the microwave bowl and besides it some utensils, napkins underneath them, and a plastic glass filled to the top with orange juice, he can jump in excitement internally as doing so for reals can risk accidentally spill that carefully prepared breakfast his father John and him have spent the better part of this earlier morning making. John though can see the excitement in his son’s bright blue eyes, the eyes of his mother, which cannot help but make him sport a gentle smile on his face as he tends lightly ruffles his son’s jet black hair, his own, to calm him a bit.

As John carefully peaks inside the bedroom with his sleeping wife, he realizes it’s time to finally carry out this little ritual he had been planning since earlier in the week. The peaceful sight of his beloved Mary ‘dead’ asleep must unfortunately come an end sooner or later. That breakfast isn’t gonna stay warm forever and she can sleep in maybe later afterwards, given it was a day off for everybody at the Circus. As such, with a tiny gesture for Dick to keep quiet until John gives him the all clear, he steps into the bedroom by himself, gently as to not wake Mary up that rudely, at least not with such loud noise.

After making soft footfalls on his slippers to the bed itself, John briefly explores a particular question; how should he wake Mary up? He can try lightly shaking her shoulder, though he can recall the many times he tried, she’d simply roll onto her side and still sleep. Stroking a free hand on her hair is another certain option though not without its own drawback of potentially Mary just further pulling up her blanket to further cover herself and resume her deep sleep. Then there’s the tried and true method of opening the blinds to their bedroom.

No, no. That’ll be rude as John can muse as both Dick and him have went through on some nights. Now that one is off of the table. Which leaves really only one option. An option, John would usually save for more very special occasions including anniversaries and Mary’s birthday. But since given everything that Dick and him had prepared for this very day, might as well go for it, which he does slowly making his way to Mary’s two bare feet poking out of the blankets with that tag around her toe.

As for explaining the mere presence of a tag meant for the recently deceased which can be found in the medical examiner’s offices and mortuaries worldwide being found here in this mere simple trailer bedroom, Mary having her father’s side of her family a majority of cousins, uncles and aunties being a friendly macabre collection of medical examiner, morticians and even the occasional grave digger would do wonders for her own sense of humor. After all, what better proof of someone being ‘Dead Asleep’ than the tags often associated with the most sincerely dead. The fact Mary writes down so many details on her tag from her date of birth, location and ‘cause’ being ‘Tending to a Son Motherly-Induced Exhaustion’ makes John chuckle very lightly underneath his breath. After all, she calls out in her motherly ways Dick and his antics, risks and quirkiness in public yet here she is with a Medical Examiner’s ID tag which came from her modest collection of tags from macabre souvenir shops across the world in a dead sleep. But John ain’t got no time for such playful calling out his beloved’s hypocrisy, he’s got to instead playfully wake her up from her breakfast.

As such, with firm yet gentle grip on the tag in his hand, John very lightly moves it not off her toe but back and forth, making the string on Mary’s toe brush up on the stem and space between it and the index toe. Soon enough, John hears the exact reaction he was hoping for as Mary began to giggle from that light brushing of the string, rather loudly. At least now John has a confirmation for his hypothesis on where Dick got such a sensitivity in his feet from. After slightly going faster and continuing for another five minutes, Mary sits upright, the blanket falling off her beautiful face and laughing up a bit. His work done, John lets the tag go, still attached to the toe while Mary catches her breath.

Once she’s finally relaxed and to her almost immediately surprise, John delivers a loving kiss to her lips, which Mary responds by fully committing to it. The two look into each other’s eyes right after finishing said kiss. Somethings like age and experience changed between them over the years but that one spark, a spark of trust, a spark of respect, a spark of love was present in their eyes and they two cannot help but admire so much, as had the years before.

Finally after a minute, Mary breaks the silence between them “I’ll admit, John, that was probably the best way to wake up to today” she says with an all too bright and gentle smile that can melt the heart of any cold roustabout. John’s heart melted almost instantly with delivering another kiss this time to his wife’s cheek.

“At least that’s something we can agree on”, John agrees with a sort of proudness and joy in his voice. It was then Mary spots a certain brush of black hair hiding behind their bedroom door. The owner of that hair giggles in excitement, his time had come.

With that, Dick lightly kicks the door open, doing a small sideways flip on both sides and finally some backwards walking before finally arriving at the bed next to his parents, tray of food perfectly intact. Such a gesture earns a hearty laugh from John align with a hair ruffle and from Mary a big side hug.

“Hey, gotta bring some flare and style into getting you from breakfast, Mom” Dick says as he puts the tray down on Mary’s laps with an absolute confident and probably to an extent a show off ish tone to him. But at least he has some right in being a show off. Finally though, that tray on her and the microwave anti-splatter bowl covering her meal, Mary takes her chance to lift said bowl off.

Even though it seems way too early for it, Mary cannot help but get slightly watery in her eyes for what was in the plate; a stack of three blueberry hotcakes, covered with maple syrup and blue cake frosting, said frosting spelling out ‘Happy Valentine’s Day! From John and Dick’ then to the sides of them, a clump of appetizing potato hashbrowns and finally a modest serving of Vanilla Greek Yogurt. Clearly, their little early waking up this beautiful morning had proved being what exactly she can enjoy. It’s a surprise sure but a pleasant one.

A sentiment she shares as while careful not to spill her food, Mary reaches over to give her two boys the biggest hug and kisses to them imaginable. A big hug the two in turn give back to her without any words needed. John and Dick look at each other with bright smiles and big wink of their eyes.

Mission accomplished. Now, time to actually eat the food since for the kitchen itself…..let’s just say they both know what Mary would have them being cleaning up for most of their day off.

[amoristt]

a/n: sorry there’s so much drama in this one LOL im nothing if not a sucker for nightmare tropes

-as always comments/reblogs are appreciated!

-want to leave a tip? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon Riley/Reader

3.

As the morning sun rose and shone through the splintered gaps of the boarded up window, you realized how exactly Ghost got his name.

You weren't sure when he'd arrived, but he was certainly your sight for sore eyes, rising from your fitful slumber. His back faces you, the light dances over the darkness of his tactical gear. For just a moment, you allow yourself to take it in. The birds outside offer a lovely soundtrack. His chair creaks underneath him while his weight shifts.

"Mornin'." Is all he says.

It takes a couple seconds before you're able to sit upright. Your back aches something awful, and you aren't sure if you've ever felt so thirsty in your entire life. Lucky for you, it seemed your friend had brought a couple of gifts. Four water bottles and what appeared to be a few bags of jerky and an assortment of nuts. Your stomach grumbles at the thought, upset at you for not feeding it sooner.

You mumble a good morning as you rise to your feet and take the chair next to him. If not for the situation at hand, you were sure this would have been a lovely morning indeed. The situation at hand only grows worse when Ghost breaks some news.

48 hours, he'd said with a flat tone. Meeting someone out in Las Almas.

For two days you'd be alone, cramped up in this shed with nothing but the everlasting sound of nature as entertainment. To hide the disdain on your face, you grab at one of the bottles and take a long swig. It doesn't work. But it also doesn't stop him from taking his leave less than an hour later.

The rest of the day was spent in phases of isolation. The first phase, immediate boredom, came with anxiety quickly in tow. Ghost would be across the country and you were merely a few miles away from base. It was over if someone decided to stray away just as you used to do and actually found you here. Running couldn't save you forever.

Phase two was quieter. Your left side ached as the bruises began to settle deep into your bones. The birds chirped high in the sky, your tired eyes numbly watching the light cracking through the windows morph from a proud yellow to a dim orange. And, eventually, white with the moon casting through the trees.

You slept better that night- fed and hydrated, mind empty and full all at once with questions. What if's haunted you deep in your core.

By day two you were starting to feel better, but the air around you felt heavier than before. Moist, almost. The shed was dim. When you peeked outside, tentative and afraid that even poking your head out the door would render your life over, you realized that dark clouds had rolled over the sky and parked right on above. Wind blew through the leaves and you could practically smell the impending storm brewing.

When it began to rain, late into the evening, it was nothing too serious. Light pattering on the thin roof, a couple drops slipping through gaps in the shingles and puddling on the floor.

When the thunder cracked over the sky it almost sounded like a bomb. You jumped in your seat so hard you almost fell off, scampering to the window and peeking through the tiny cracks. The wind had grown menacing, tearing through the branches and launching leaves to the grass. Just as before, the sky remained just as baleful as it had been that afternoon.

Eventually, the rain began to come down like it was hail. It beat the roof ruthlessly, more and more water gathering on the floor as it forced its way through the ramshackle shed. You tucked yourself up on the chair, bringing your knees to your chest, trying to have faith in your little shack to keep you safe. There was nowhere else to go- this was it. With no blanket, you were reduced to a shivering mess, listening to the deafening chants of the falling rain.

But, even through it, you could still make out something else.

A great clap of thunder. The unmistakable sound of craning wood. And then an ear-splitting crash. You'd barely even managed to hop from your chair in time.

You felt the wind on your skin before you felt anything else.

And then, water. Lots of it- soaking you almost instantaneously. Pieces of wood and metal lay at your feet, surrounding you, your mind struggling to grasp what the hell was going on. Roaring gusts of wind echoed in your ears.

Standing there, your eyes finally adjusted through the murky darkness just enough to see leaves and branches bent at all angles before you. A great tree lays horizontal through the shed, mere feet away from where you stood. Moon poured in through the gaping maw of what used to be the roof.

The chairs you and Ghost once shared lay shattered to bits under its mammoth weight.

The tree welcomed the entire night into your little safe haven. Angry outbursts of winds, the relentless rain showering every inch of your body. In an attempt to protect yourself, you crushed yourself up into a corner of the shed, the only part of it with a chunk of roof remaining semi-intact. It bowed down, barely held up by the wooden posts, but it dipped just enough where the water ran down it and pooled at your feet.

Tears bite at your eyes, and you let them. They fall in heavy streaks.

And your chest heaved, your hands shook. The storm swallowed your cries, hungry and angry and ripping away any last remaining shred of normalcy you had. Everything around you seemed to be riddled with fractures just waiting to shatter. You grieved the life you had merely three days ago- spent more on the upside than down and wasting your in-between hours alongside Ghost.

Ghost. Beautiful, enigmatic, scary Ghost. With all of those rough edges and those forlorn eyes. He haunts your mind as you fold into yourself, but your limbs offer little cover to the elements. Your head hurts, your body aches something deep and awful. Your skin burns at the cocktail assaulting you- equal parts the pelting rain and the whipping of the wind pitching shards of wood and glass at your weak frame.

A part of you wonders if this would be your demise. If, out of all the wrong cursing your life, this would be your downfall. Cramped in the corner of a shed attempting to outlive mother nature like some pitiful stray thing. Your protective grip on yourself tightens. The nightmare doesn't end.

And the storm rages longer than you can stay awake for.

You remain where you sit even in your dreams. The world is all underwater garbles, the branches of the fallen tree try to reach out and grasp at your shaking body. It's almost like being in a bubble- feeling so full an empty all at once. Hearing the raging storm but it's booming voice just can't seem to fully reach you. But, you swear you hear something else.

You swear, with your face tucked into your knees, you can hear your voice rising above the thunder and the whirlwind.

And then it's like you can feel hands on your skin. Gloved, but warm. Something soft and fuzzy tucked wrapped around you. Those hands pull your arms off your cut-up legs and then you're weightless. It reminds you of your fall. Weightless, hung by your hand. Your eyes screw shut and you're torn from your spot like a ragdoll. Clearly, your soul must be leaving your body.

"-Up."

That faraway voice reaches you. It tears through the veil.

"-Hear m-"

You blink. Everything suddenly rushes in- real. The lamenting winds, the torrent of rain, the creaking of wood and the whipping of leaves on shaking branches.

The softness of a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

Then, it all stops when you lock eyes with those familiar, melancholic blues. He's shrouded in black, the edges of his form painted in the most beautiful of blues, droplets gathered on his gear reflecting in what little light the moon could creep through those rich clouds. He touches your face. He holds your face. And then he's picking you up like you're broken and you try to remember the last time you've been treated with some fragility. You try to think back to a time when you'd been treated with such care.

"Ghost." You murmur, your own voice the loudest thing reaching your ears.

"Me." He says, and it draws tears of relief to your already wet eyes. You sink into his large arms, allow him to duck out of what remained of the shed. Allow him to pull you to his chest so tightly it's almost too much of him. Almost.

But it never gets to the point. You press your head against him and swear you can hear his heartbeat thrashing in his ribcage, restless. For the first time that night, you felt safe. Utterly safe in his hold. If your body could say thank you, it would have.

The relief knocks you out a moment later.

----------

It's warm when you stir awake. Quiet.

Soft.

When your eyes open, met with a burst of yellow light, you struggle to grasp where you were. Your elbows try to prop you up, but they sink into something plush.

It takes a few moments to realize you're a sopping-wet mess laying atop a couch. Your clothes stuck you grossly, but the cushions you lap upon make it hard to feel uncomfortable. You almost wondered if this was the dream. If you were going to wake any moment in a jump to defend yourself or run, scamper into the stormy night and earn one more day on earth.

But then you see a window with tightly shut blinds. You see a coffee table with coasters, a tiny TV mounted on a wooden entertainment center. An air conditioner pokes out of the wall and it strikes you how similar it is to your flat back at the base.

Like instinct, you glance to your right, and sure enough, you're met with a kitchen you recognize so eerily you have to pinch yourself. A half wall divides the two rooms, the stove visible with the steam outpouring from a kettle.

You were back at base. You were sure of it now.

But it was as if your flat never had the loving touch of personal taste. No photos, no decor. Void of anything to suggest a person with a life worth living inhabited it. It felt hauntingly empty. The same blanket you'd had tucked against you lay a crumpled pile atop the armrest. Your eyes linger on it longer than they should, mind still half empty with sleep and confusion.

You reach out, and you draw your fingers along the blissfully soft fabric of the blanket. It reminds you of your own blankets, and the saddening realization that you may never get a bed of your own ever again, should you not clear your name somehow. You get lost in your thoughts, idly running your fingers along the blanket, still damp from the rain.

"Enjoyin' yourself?"

Ghost's voice pops you out of the bubble you'd slipped into. He stands there in the kitchen, his torso visible over the dividing half wall. The first thing you notice is his evening attire- a skull print etched over a his black fabric mask and a casual black t-shirt spread gaunt over his muscles. It never struck you how naked he looked without his gear on. How bare he seemed with his ruffled blonde hair and thick eyebrows on full display.

The second thing you notice is the sudden shrew scream of the kettle, forgotten on the stove. Ghost settles a pile of clothes on the table and turns to tend to the piercing sound.

For some reason, your mind remains far away. Like you're watching through a lens, not truly where you were. All your brain seemed to want to focus on was the softness of the blanket. The faint smell of amber spice lingering in the air. Your eyes travel to the outline of Ghost, particularly to the broadness of his shoulders, and to the way he moved so languidly, pouring water into a pair of mugs.

You don't even fully realize it when he's suddenly walked directly in front of you, your mind lagging. The mugs are set on the coffee table, and in two snaps of his fingers an inch away from your face, you're blinking up at him like you'd been ripped from a trance.

"You there?" He asks, and you finally offer a response.

"I'm here." You murmur, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm confused. Are we at mine?"

Ghost shakes his head. "Mine."

Your stomach drops like lead. Settles in your gut when he adds, so keep your head down. It's a struggle to digest his words when you're suddenly keenly aware that one wrong move, one wrong sound would have you surrounded. It would be over before the chase even began. Ghost senses your dismay- reads it off the lines in your face that drag your features into a sinking frown.

"No where else to bring you." He admits, settling beside you. "This'll do for now. Just got to keep your head down."

His words do so little to ease you that it actually makes you laugh. Low, pitiful chuckles. "Simon Riley harboring a fugitive. You're a changed man."

"Not changed anything. You'd do it for me." Is all he says with a huff, and you know he's telling the truth. He reaches down and grasps a mug, and he brings it to your lap.

Your hands shake as they reach out, the chill of wet clothes still biting at your bones. It's nearly comical when you take the mug into your own hands, the immediate ripples bouncing off the walls as it shook in your hold.

"Christ. Give me that." Ghost sighs, and before you're even able to respond, he's plucking the cup from your trembling fingers.

Then he's bringing it to your lips and you're so excited to finally drink something that you barely even register how close he is. How he has to shrink himself to be beside you, how gently he tips the mug back while you sip. The warmth drops to the floor of your empty stomach and relief washes over you so intensely it nearly draws tears. How emotional you’d become, the last few days pushing you to your limits. But now you have real shelter, Ghost at your side, a bit more color in your vision and of course the luxury of warm tea.

You're so eager to get it down that droplets gather and fall from the corners of your lips. They dribble down your chin and you pull away with a grimace, swiping at your skin.

" 'Sposed to drink it." Ghost says, and it leaves him so sweetly.

You match the smile you swore you'd heard in his words. When Ghost brings the cup back up to your lips, much less tentative this time around, you can't help but subconsciously reach up to paw at this wrist. The dull ache of an empty stomach ebbs away as you empty the cup, and finally, your sore muscles relax into jelly.

"There you go." Ghost's voice, low and observant. Something in the tone makes you squirm under your skin, and you're met with the reality of being disappointed when he pulls away and sets the cup aside.

It makes you all too aware of the heat over your face, and you lower your head to escape his gaze. A quiet thanks leaves your lips.

"Clothes are on the table, no chance they'll fit you though. Better than being soaked." Ghost's large hands clap over your knee before he stands up. "Washrooms on the left."

When he leaves the room, and you start feeling that gnawing sense of isolation, you finally take to standing and wander into the bathroom. Its white light on even whiter walls blind you for a moment. When your eyes adjust, you're met with eyebags and wet, messy hair. Cut up arms and shaking hands. You look like you've aged 10 years. Your wet clothes plop down in piles as you shed them, layer by layer.

It felt strange to be in Ghost's house. Even more, it felt strange to be naked in Ghost's house. Quickly you unfold the clothes he'd provided, and then proceed to gawk.

Ghost hadn't been kidding. They did not fit. Just the t-shirt alone engulfed you. Somehow you managed to secure the sweatpants around your waist after finagling the drawstrings into a belt. Your legs swam in the fabric pooled around your feet. Haphazardly you roll them into cuffs.

Ghost, again, wasn't kidding. Shucked of your wet clothes, blanketed by his, you were already feeling better. The world felt a little less shattered around you. You hang your old clothes over the shower rod in the hope’s they’d be dry by morning.

When you leave the bathroom and saunter back to his kitchen, you find him there leaning against the table in wait. For a brief moment, he doesn't see you enter. And for that brief moment, your eyes plant on the sliver of skin visible between the gap of where his t-shirt ended, and his mask began. His gaze flicks over to yours and you meet it.

"Better?" He asks.

"A lot better." You say with a relieved sigh. You fidget with the hem of your shirt, eyes downcast, thinking the night over. "Goodbye hangout spot."

"Hangout spot? Are we fifteen?" Ghost scoffs, laughing lowly under his breath. He motions for you to follow and you're led into a modest bedroom.

"Come on, it was like a hangout spot. And now it's gone." Your voice falls at the end, and doesn't go unnoticed by his listening ears. He watches you through the corners of his eyes. "Was one of my favorites, too."

"We'll find another." He offers.

You shrug. "It won't be the same."

Ghost sighs and wanders to the side of the bed, and only then do you notice the blankets laid out on the floor.

"We'll make it the same. Come on, you need some sleep."

When he pulls the blanket from the mattress back in invitation, you frown. Even more so when he begins to kneel on the blankets mounted on the floor.

"I'm not sleeping in your bed. I'll take the floor." You deadpan. He shakes his head.

"Absolutely not."

"Man, come on. Let me."

"Not a chance." He settles over the blankets, laying flat on his back. You crawl onto the bed to peek over the edge down at him.

"Are you sure?" You ask.

Those blues peer up at you from the floor. They roll, his voice a grunt. "Shut it. When's the last time you got real sleep?"

You scoff. "You're gonna' talk to me about getting real sleep? I could ask you the same question."

Ghost laughs deep in his chest. A sound you rarely get the joy of hearing. But then he rolls over, back facing you, and you feel him shut the argument down in one fell swoop. Your combative perspective dies somewhere in the back of your brain, and suddenly your new focus is just how plush Ghost's bed is. It sucks you in, it feels. Practically reaches up with and tugs you down against it. You sprawl out, your muscles crying out in relief.

The scent of him surrounding you is intoxicating. As is the deep, soft breaths you hear from the floor. Your head suddenly becomes too heavy to lift.

"You know what," You mumble with half-lidded eyes. "I think I am gonna' take the bed."

Whether Ghost answers or not, you're unsure, asleep nearly the same second the last syllable left your lips. A heavy dream cloaks the forefront of your mind.

And it paints such awful pictures.

Fireworks of light, clapping explosions, and the distant howls of your friend's voices echo cry into the back of your mind. All you know is that you're running, your legs struggling to heave the weight of you. Darkness nips at your heels as you flee. Hands grab at you from all angles, long twisting fingers rooted to bony knuckles.

The crashing waves of the emptiness pass you with ease and you're swallowed into nothingness. Your feet splash through it like a pitch-black puddle. Though warped, you catch your own reflection in the murky depths. You kneel down and reach out, touch at the wet surface. It rippled like water but sat on your finger thick, like honey.

It reeked of tar.

And before you knew it, staring at the black ooze, a hand crashes through the surface and wraps it's spindly fingers around your arm. It yanks, rips you down. You struggle to your feet with an outcry, find your footing despite the hands hold, just to see more hand breaching. Your feet sink inches into the murk. The hands claw at your ankles, and then your legs. The ground drinks you down. Your thighs, then your waist.

"Fucking hell." A voice garbles, echoing and distant. The choir of outcries beat against your eardrums.

Your eyes search, and they land on something emerging from the darkness. A creature shadowed in the darkness blossomed, its dripping teeth and glowing eyes drawing closer. The air pulls from your lungs and you choke on nothing.

The creature claps its talons over your shoulders, its grip puncturing bullet-sized holes into your flesh. You rip and tear fruitlessly. It taunts you, laughs at you. Gargles your name out fuzzy and far away. You're suffocating.

"Look at me!" It chants, shaking you ragged. "Open your eyes!"

Your mind statics and blurs around the edges. Your eyes clench shut, and then tear back open, and it's like being pulled out of the water. You suck in your first full breath. A hand presses firm to your cheek and you react with vitriol, ripping away with its touch. Fighting harder when it persists, another hand planting on your shoulder to keep you still. The image of the monster lights up in your mind, with its piercing stare and snapping jaws.

"It's me!" A voice rings in your ears from a foot away. Right there, real. It reaches into your mind and drags you out with a thrashing heart and heaving chest.

The creature melts into the familiar shape of Ghost before your eyes, and that's when you realize it's silent. Nothing but the sound of both of your heavy breaths. The color floods back.

"It's me." He says again, softer this time, edged with gruffness. He touches at your arm, the other still set firm on your other shoulder. You peer up with him through tears.

"I couldn't breathe." Is all you manage to sputter.

For a long moment, he studies you. Then he drags his touch down the length of your arm, to your shaking wrists. He pulls at your hands and gently drags you to sit before he settles beside you. He sinks the mattress down and you don't stop yourself from tilting and resting on him, too tired to fight anything anymore. Besides, you needed it. Needed to feel his presence, the sense of safety his energy alone provided.

When he doesn't immediately shift away, you wonder if he knows it too. Or, maybe he feels pity. Feels bad and isn't really sure what to do other than just... be there. Which doesn't necessarily not work. When your body goes lax against him, you can hear the deep, long breath that escapes him.

Relief.

Relief because finally you seem like you’re all together.

"I'm sorry for making you take care of me." You croak. "Fuck, this is so embarrassing."

"Enough of that. Relax." Ghost's voice is so quiet. You don't think you'd ever heard him bring his voice so low, barely even audible. You wonder if you'd scared him, somehow. Or perhaps he felt if he spoke too harsh, too loud, you’d be rocketed back into your spiraling.

The image of that monster you'd gone face to face with seeps into your thoughts. It sends a chill over the plains of your skin, reminds you how vulnerable to feel without a blanket on. As if he reads your mind, Ghost drags it up from the foot of the bed and drapes it over you. Even goes so far as to slightly tuck the edges haphazardly.

When you realize he goes without, you frown.

"Here," You say, lifting the side of the blanket and tossing it over his legs. Any minute now, you expect him to roll his eyes and return to his place back on the floor.

But, instead, he gets comfortable. He shifts, sinks into the bed just a little more. Breathes just a little deeper. Warmth blooms in your chest and rides straight up to your cheeks, masked by the darkness. You can't however, hide mask the smile that takes over your lips when his shoulders go slack. His head tips to rest on yours.

The world stops turning for a moment. Lost in his breathing, his heartbeat slowing in your ears. Somehow, you think deep in your mind, that perhaps this had made it all worth it. His hands rest in his lap, just as yours do.

Barely, just barely, you touch the back of your knuckles to his own and let your eyes fall shut. His skin vibrates against yours.

You aren't sure the exact moment you doze off into a quiet slumber, but you do, fit with heavy eyelashes and mirrored breaths.

[ashtonisvibing]

"You have both of our lives in your hands!"

Fandom: Life Series/Double Life SMP

Alternate Universe: None (Canon Divergence)

Ship(s): Slight mention of Grian x GoodTimesWithScar

Character(s): Grian, GoodTimesWithScar

Warning(s): None

Originally Published: February 4th, 2024

Word Count: 1,601

Author's Notes:

seasons skirmish gift for dusty_daffodil on AO3

first time writing... anything for mcyt, let alone the desert duo. but i certainly tried! :D

if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!

[plain text: if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!]

Full Story:

The sound of a pickaxe whacking against stone was the only sound that carried through the tunnel Grian had started to make for himself. Nearly a month in and neither him nor Scar had any sort of diamond equipment, not even a measly hoe or shovel. And with how wreckless Scar was being, Grian was fed up with using only iron armor as protection. He had such a huge chance to not end up with one of the few people here who had no regard for their safety. How did he manage to luck out as badly as he did? Well, what’s done is done now. All he needed to focus on was making sure they didn’t lose their first life already.

“Damn it, where are the diamonds??” Grian huffed, resting his pickaxe on his shoulder as he looked back up at the makeshift stone stairs that was his mineshaft. He couldn’t see the outside with how deep he had gone. “I’m almost out of torches, too. I’m surprised I haven’t found much coal down here, either..” He looked back at the stone in front of him, gently fiddling at the red, yellow, and blue feathered wings where ears should have been. A forcive habit for whenever he was thinking. “I should probably get back to the sur- Gah-!”

The avian dropped down on one knee as he clutched his chest, using his pickaxe to prop himself up. A sharp, burning pain shot from his heart and spread around his chest. He was far too familiar with this pain by now, even if it was usually slightly dimmed down. The phantom pain of his soulbound partner taking damage. And judging by how impactful it was this time…

Grian tapped the glowing green heart on his chest, revealing his health and hunger bars. And he was suddenly down four hearts. Okay, maybe Scar just fell while dealing with his cats, nothing to- “Shit-!” Another wave of pain, another three hearts lost. What was his partner doing up there?! He quickly grabbed a piece of steak out of his side bag and ate it in hopes of keeping his hunger up. It must be night time right now, why else would the two be taking so much damage

And suddenly, after another bout of pain… One heart left. The avian was panicking now. His face was pale and breathing quickened, almost to a degree that it felt like he was choking on his own air. This was it, they’d be losing their first life. And then it wouldn’t be long until they were down to red, and then completely losing. He started to scramble out of his mine shaft. His hearts were slowly regenerating; Scar might have gotten a moment of peace and was eating. But that didn’t mean the danger was over. Since it was currently night time, he could get swarmed by zombies, or blown up by a creeper. He could simply fall off a cliff.

Grian just hoped he could find his partner in time before anything happened.

The avian decided to stop by their base first, calling out Scar’s name into the dark oak trees around him in the hopes that he’ll get a response. But he wasn’t getting anything. Scar could be on the other side of the area for all he knew. At the very least by now their hearts were almost full. Grian just had to hope that it would stay that way until he found his partner.

“Scar-!” He was quick to rush through the entrance of their base, eyes darting around frantically in the hopes he’d spot a glimpse of his friend. “Scar, are you here?!”

“Grian!”

Running through the entrance was the man himself. With that stupid without-a-care smile on his lips, his hand waving to his partner before stopping right in front of him. “Oh man, you’ll never bel-”

“Scar, we just almost died, what the hell were you thinking?!” Scar was used to Grian’s frustrated yelling by this point. There was no shortage of silly and, to everyone else, stupid ideas from the salesman, especially now that he had acquired those huge gray cats. And considering that yes, he almost got the two of them killed, he wasn’t surprised that the other was so upset.

“Oh Grian, you would not believe how many monsters can appear in the jungle!” Scar laughed a little as he headed over to the cat pit, pulling some bamboo sticks out of his backpack. Grian was quick to follow him. “I just wanted to grab some snacks for the kitties, and suddenly I’m getting swarmed by skeletons and spiders! Good thing you had some food on you, I completely forgot to grab some before I left.” He chuckled, about to jump right into the pit, before his partner grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Scar, I really don’t think you understand. We. Almost. Died. And for what, just because you wanted to feed your cats?? They don’t even need to eat!” He threw his hands up in the air to try and add more emphasis to the situation. His feathers were getting really ruffled trying to get the other to understand the situation.

“Well- I didn’t think you’d be so upset by this.” Scar huffed a little, deciding to just toss the bamboo sticks into the pit in the hopes that the felines would just eat them themselves. “Sure, we almost died because I got caught by monsters, I’ll admit to that. But guess what? We didn’t! So no harm done!” And there was that confident smile, one that could either quell the avian’s worries or just make him more annoyed by how sure Scar was in whatever he was saying. And unfortunately, it wasn’t the former.

Grian took a deep breath, through the nose and out through the mouth. He couldn’t let himself just blow up on his partner. His singed pants remembered the last time that happened. “Okay. I don’t think you quite understand the situation here. The two of us?” He punched Scar’s arm, hard enough to remove half a heart from their health. The other responded with a “Hey-!” as he rubbed where he was punched. “We’re linked! I wouldn’t be upset about you running off to who knows where at whatever time if we weren’t! But any damage you take, I take, so whenever you go off on your silly little adventures you’ve got both of our lives to worry about. I just-” The avian let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you constantly put yourself in danger, hm? Is it just to prove some sort of point?”

Scar was completely taken aback by Grian’s words. He hadn’t even thought that his own little adventures would upset his friend so much. Sure, this wasn’t the first time he’d gotten them so close to death. But it’s not like he ever did it on purpose. Yet the avian was upset all the same. And when Scar gave it a second of thought, he was right to be upset. He could always be a little more careful, a little less reckless. He could try to not go out at night, or start fights with the other soulbound people here. He could try to be a better friend.

“You’re… You’re right.” He chuckled a little, fingers running through his hair. “I really haven’t been the greatest friend, huh..? But I’m gonna start doing way better. And I can start by- By getting rid of these pesky cats!” And like he did only a couple of minutes before he tried to jump into the cat pit. And like last time, Grian stopped him. But this time it was more out of confusion than anger.

“Wha- Scar, I didn’t- You are the most… Bullheaded person here, aren’t you?” Despite his words, there was a small smile trying to form on his lips. Oh, he was trying hard not to be amused by his friend’s antics that never made sense. It was certainly a tough task. And Scar’s laughter wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“And here I thought you hated the cats. Have you warmed up to them, my friend?” That cocky smirk was on his lips as he crouched down a little to meet Grian’s height.

Grian hated his friend’s cocky nature. He hated how he never thought things through, how quick he was to jump into anything. How he always made a bad situation seem good. And how his smirk could easily bring a red blush to the avian’s cheeks.

He was quick to turn his head away so that said cheeks wouldn’t be visible, trying to hide his fluster as he crossed his arms over his chest. “No, not at all! I just- You’ve cared for them since day one, it would be stupid to get rid of them so soon!”

Grian’s stubbornness to always be right was the funniest thing to Scar. And who was he to deny his friend’s needs? He chuckled as he put his hands up, surrendering to the avian in front of him. “Alright, alright, the cats are staying then! Now, for my first decision as the new and responsible Scar, I say we go to bed. That way the day will come and all the skeletons and zombies and such will burn away.” Despite his attempt to hold it back, the avian let out a little chuckle as he looked up at his friend. Always the one for the dramatics. Another thing he “hated”.

“That’s the greatest decision you’ve ever made.”

[mangoguy]

CBF! König x GN! Reader (Prologue)

Warnings: reader has a dad (they are adopted), no pronouns but 'you', König has a name.

You have moved into a new neighborhood, although you're not thrilled your dad mentions it could be fun.

I'm reposting this again because I changed his name, plus I wasn't entirely sure where I was going with this... but with some brain power, I got to thinking this was based on a game called Our Life, which is super great and a very sweet story, but personally I don't think König would be a very good friend once he gets to his teen years. This story, while it will have sweet moments, is going to sprinkle in some toxic/unhealthy friendship.

Comments/Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Age: 12

Memory One

“New area, new kid”

“But Dad, I don't want to move! Aren't we perfectly fine staying here?” You exclaimed, stomping your foot and crossing your arms. Your 12-year-old brain thought it was the best argument. Your dad just looked at your pouty face and sighed. 

“Not my choice bud, they're relocating me. Besides- moving isn't that bad, think of all the new friends you'll make!” He remained positive, for your sake. He wasn't particularly happy about this move either but this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

So that's how you found yourself on the first day of summer break, miles away from where you grew up. Your dad was driving in unknown territory. You looked at the card your classmates gave you on the last day… along with a small book your teacher gave to you as a housewarming gift. You frowned and sunk lower into your seat, watching the rooftops of houses pass by. You could see your dad peek at you through the rearview mirror. 

“Are you doing okay back there?” He asked.

“...No… I want to go back,” you lamented. 

“I know… here, why don't we play your favourite song?” he beamed at you, fiddling with the radio before you heard your favourite song come out of the speakers. You had to admit it was making you feel better. You grumpily swayed your head to the music and your dad chuckled.

“Well, we're here,” you heard your dad announce. He got out of the car before looking up at the new house, putting his hands on his hips in the weird pose he did when he was admiring something. You huffed and got out yourself, quickly scanning over your new house. It honestly looked like something from a fairytale, vines decorated the front. There was also a small balcony with a window above it… that seemed to be the entrance to it. 

Alright, maybe you were a bit impressed. You held your book and card close as you followed your dad towards the front door. He fished out his keys, unlocked the door and pulled it open for the two of you to see inside.

To say it was dusty was an understatement. You walked in first and observed your new surroundings. There was some furniture that was covered in plastic and the stairs looked creaky. Your dad sighed behind you.

“Well, let's get work, kiddo.” 

It was a long week of unpacking, cleaning, and finding the nearest store for supplies. The majority of the unpacking was easy- since your dad just ended up doing all of it. You got to decorate your new room which was fun (you ended up claiming the room with the small balcony). Currently, you were outside, your dad urged you to explore the neighbourhood just as long as you didn’t go to the next street. You looked over to your left when you passed your front gate to see your street was right by a forest… all your street was surrounded by woods, besides the part that led to the other block. You decided to head in, walking the little gravel path that was made. It was cloudy today so most people were inside. It was fine with you, you haven’t been able to meet the neighbours. You remember your dad mentioning they seemed nice from the small interaction he’s had with them. 

You stopped in your tracks when you spotted something colourful off the trail you were on. Growing a bit curious you went to investigate, it wasn’t hard to see that it was a playground. You were caught off guard by a boy playing by himself.  He was around your height, maybe a bit taller, chubby, and had brown hair.  He was moving around the play structure rapidly, waving a large stick around like it was a sword. He shouted around giving commands to his ‘soldiers’ and claiming they needed to save the princess from the clutches of the evil wizard. Who the evil wizard was… you didn’t know, but it looked like fun. You stepped closer to the playground and that’s when he finally noticed you. He tensed, turning to face you, he looked like a deer in the headlights. 

“Hello, sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you,” You spoke, trying to make yourself seem less threatening. It didn’t seem to work though, he looked like he was going to bolt at any moment. You could see him biting the inside of his cheek, it was awkward but you waited for him to say something. 

A minute passed, then two… before he finally spoke. 

“It’s… fine I was just about to… leave…” He spoke, he sounded anxious. You frowned, that was not what you were expecting. You should be the one leaving, not him, but he seemed hellbent on leaving this situation. You watched as he started making his way towards the gravel path and walking towards the neighbourhood you resided in. Did he live near you?

“Wait!” You called out to him. 

He continued walking and picked up speed when you called out for him. You didn’t follow him since you didn’t want to spook him more. You watched him disappear down the path, you decided to wait a few minutes before heading home yourself. 

Knock!

Knock! 

Knock!

“This is the third visitor we’ve gotten today…” Dad mumbled as he got up from his desk. He said he was working on some papers, though he kept getting interrupted by neighbours who wanted to introduce themselves. You’ve gotten two casseroles already and it looks like you’ll be adding a third. You walked with your dad to the door, he opened it to see a whole family of five on your little porch. You immediately noticed that the husband looked like he didn’t want to be here. The wife was holding a container full of what looked like dessert. Their kids were standing behind them, and from the looks of it they had two boys and one girl.. 

“Hello! I hope we aren’t interrupting anything, but we thought it was finally time to introduce ourselves, I’m Lina and this is my husband Albert and behind us are our kids… get up here you three,” she motioned her kids towards the front. You instantly recognized the boy from the park whom you scared off three days ago. His eyes widened slightly spotting you and he shifted on his feet. 

“This is Andreas, Marie, and Alexander,” She went down from oldest to youngest. Marie waved at you and smiled, saying a quick ‘nice to meet you.’

“It’s nice to meet you all, I'm Andrew,” Your dad shook hands with the parents before introducing you. 

“My kid just recently turned 12, they’ll be going to the nearby school,” Dad said. Lina perked up at that.

“That’s wonderful! Alexander here recently turned 12 and goes to that school, maybe they could walk together?” Lina offered. Alexander seemed to deflate at that and Andreas snickered.

“But anyway, before I forget, I brought you an apple strudel! I hope you like them,” she handed off the dessert to your dad who took it with a quick ‘thank you.’ 

It seems like forever before Dad’s and Lina’s conversation ends and your dad finally closes the door. He looked over at you and gave you a small smile. 

“Thought that conversation was never going to end…” He mumbled.

“It’s not like you were helping,” you mumbled, taking the apple strudel from him and resuming your movie.

Words: 1247

Chapter One