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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

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Summer Breeze 6

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You sleep sitting up. Aside from the stiffness in your muscles, your stomach is gurgling from the greasy meal. The night fraught with worry and restlessness leaves your head even more cloudy than before. It’s real, you know it, and yet you just don’t want to accept it.

The doctor comes after 8am. He checks your father’s vital and makes some notes on his chart. Andy asks about his condition as you can’t bring yourself to speak. He looks ragged and tired, you must not come off any better.

“We’ll have to wait until he’s stable to make any further determination. We’ll need to test his cognizance along with his physical capabilities. The injury like has caused a TBI, meaning the effects will vary. He’ll need to be monitored well beyond his time here,” the doctor explains as Andy listens intently. You cling to every word but your mind is reeling. “Best to discuss what sort of therapies would be covered by insurance.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Andy says, “thanks, doctor.”

“Of course. You did a good job getting him here quickly,” the man in the white coat pauses and sends you definitive look, “keeping pressure on him. You both saved his life.”

Your eyes sting and your nose burns. You can't cry. Not yet. Once you crack, you know that’s it. You won’t be able to stop. Your cheeks tug and you thank him, swallowing down the swell of horror.

“Andy,” you eke out as the doctor leaves, “I couldn’t get through to my mom. Do you mind if I try again?”

“Hm, I haven’t charged my phone,” he slides his cell from his pocket, “I’m at twelve percent. Could do the trick.”

“Oh, maybe I could ask the nurse’s desk. I think I saw a patient phone around here.”

“Good idea,” he nods. “I texted Jacob but I don’t think he has service up there. We’ll need to go grab some clothes so how about we do that today?”

“I... I can’t leave my dad,” you insist.

“Sweetheart, they said he’s going to be out for some time.”

“He shouldn’t wake up alone,” you argue.

“Alright,” he shows his palm appeasingly, “I’ll drive up, grab your stuff, and we’ll get everything else sorted when I get back.”

“I can do this,” you avow, as much to yourself as him, “you’ve done enough.”

“Right, I know, you’re a strong girl. But what do you do next? Once you talk to mom. You gotta call insurance, right? Do you have what they need? You’ll need the plan number, that’s probably in his wallet, right? You’ll at least need proof of ID. We brought him in in his trunks and nothing else. All that’s up at the cottage,” he shakes his head, “I don’t doubt you can handle it but a little help can’t hurt.”

Your eyes widen and you sigh. You drag your hands down your cheek, “yeah...”

“You can’t think of it all right now. That’s expected. You should worry about him. So I’ll deal with the details.”

“Andy,” you utter, “I...” you look at your dad and get up, shuffling to his bedside. You take his hand, careful not to tug the tubes and tape, “I owe you.”

“It’s what people do for each other, right? I’m a dad too. I know if anything happened to me, Jacob would be lost.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” you crackle from your dry throat.

“Try to rest if you can,” he sniffs and scratches his beard, “I’ll be quick. As quick as possible.”

“Sure,” you squeeze your dad’s hand, barely hearing Andy. You just want him to wake up, or maybe you can wake up from this nightmare.

🌅

You force yourself out of the room to ask the nurse about a phone. She points you towards a worn phone down a few halls meant for emergency calls. You punch in your mom’s number and wait for it to dial. It takes six tries for her to answer but you won’t give up this time.

“Hey, what’s up?” She answers casually.

You don’t answer right away. You can hear the lightness in her voice and the rustle of unknown movement. She’s busy with something or someone. Probably her latest fling.

“Mom,” you scratch out, “it’s dad.”

“What is it now? Tell me he’s not drank himself into the tank again. He’s too old for that.”

“Mom,” you say firmer than before, “mom, he’s hurt.”

“Hurt. Well, call the paramedics, I don’t know,” she giggles and you sigh.

“We’re at the hospital,” you raise your voice, “he’s... he’s not awake. He hit his head. And I... I’m scared.”

She’s silent. You hear her move around and she excuses herself. A door clicks on her end and she scoffs, “well, what do you want me to do about it? He’s your father.”

You’re stunned by her callous response.

“And I’m your daughter,” you insist, “what... you should...” you shake your head and deflate. “Well, mom,” your voice cracks, “I’m sorry I interrupted fun for something so stupid as this.”

“Honey, please, I’m a bit shocked is all,” she squeaks, “I mean what can I do from so far away. For my ex-husband of all people? You’re an adult. You need to learn how to handle these things.”

“Gee, thanks, mom,” you sneer and slam the phone on the hook.

You don’t know why you expected any different. You’re not at her house because she told you plainly that she didn’t want you spoiling her fun. She gave up trying to be a parent the minute you turned eighteen.

You roll your eyes back against a new wave of tears; these one angry. You guess you just need to grow up. It’s your turn to take care of your dad.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #drabble #defending jacob #summer breeze

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e-dubbc11 · 1 month ago

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for November rain again...kat dahlia has this angsty ass brekaing up song called 'just another dude' and i think it'd fit great for some nice angsty fic for my man dean :)

My lovely Selene,

Thank you for sending in your asks, for reading and sharing my fics but mostly for being such a kind friend. And thank you for participating in my follower celebration, I hope you like what I did here. This song is full of angst, I love it! I’ll link it at the end and of course I had to give this a fluffy ending ♥️

Sweet Pecan Pie

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+ please or I’m telling!) Angst, fluff, a swear word or two

Word Count: 1.8K-ish

Summary: As the owner of a small diner, you encounter all kinds of people and one in particular comes to town on a mission but keeps coming back because of you.

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The first time he came to town was for a job, but first he stopped in for something to eat at your diner.

As his teeth sank into the burger, he moaned as the grease dripped from his lips, down onto the plate, and he made the same noise when he took a bite of the pecan pie he ordered for dessert.

“This is the best thing I have ever tasted.” He said with a spot of whipped cream stuck to his lips.

He said the same thing to you later on that night with his head buried in between your thighs lapping at your entrance, devouring you like a man starved. Whispers of his name turned him on as your orgasm started to build. His tongue moved in and out of you with long eager strokes while his hand gently pressed against your stomach to try and keep you flush with the bed.

As he continued to push you over the edge, a soft whimper escaped your lips, “Dean.”

Dean Winchester.

That wasn’t the name on the FBI badge he flashed earlier in the evening. Dean was his real name, along with his brother Sam, he told you the truth about what they did for a living…”Saving people, hunting things, the family business.”

And after he saved you from a werewolf attack, you saved him from having to find a place to sleep for the night.

You tugged gently on his hair as he continued to fuck you with his tongue, the modest pulls on his light brown hair were a silent plea for him to stop teasing you. It had been a long time since you had been properly fucked, you needed him, and he took the hint you were dropping. With each drag of his cock, Dean hit that sweet spot, bringing closer and closer to climax, whispering against your mouth, telling you how good you feel, how tight you are, and praising you for taking his whole cock like a “good girl.”

His hands explored your body like no one had ever done before. It was a surprising sensation, exhilarating, and you didn’t want it to end. Shocked by your own lack of restraint, your heavy breaths moved in tandem with his as his body ground down harder against yours, the wave of your orgasm building faster as your walls began to tighten around him.

Dean was just as desperate for a release as you were, thrusting and panting quicker now, you cry out his name just as you explode all around him, and your knees quivered as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean’s lips found yours again, his kisses were hungry and you obediently melted into those kisses while he hit his peak and a strangled moan fell from his lips into your mouth.

“You feel so good, sweetheart.” He told you, kissing the tip of your nose and smiling at you as he rolled off of you then pulled you close so you could fall asleep on his chest.

He stayed until morning, then it was time to move on, but he would call any time he was in town or close to town. The job only brought him into town the one time; he kept coming back because of you. And that’s the kind of relationship you continued to have with him which, you admit, was fun for awhile until you were starting to think that’s all you were to him…a piece of ass.

Did he have one in every town? Was that his “thing?” Did he save pretty girls from scary monsters then take them to bed like he did with you?

It continued for months and while you enjoyed every minute of it, you weren’t sure you wanted it to be like this anymore.

Tangled in each other’s limbs and wrapped up in the bed sheets, you finally worked up the courage to ask him, “Is this all we are, Dean? Is this all I am to you?”

“What are you talkin’ about, baby?” He asked in a confused tone.

Turning to face him, you asked, “Do you do this in every town you have a job in?!”

“What? No!” He shouted. “That’s what you think of me, y/n?! I don’t have to stay here and listen to this, ya know.”

Unraveling yourself from him and the sheets, you angrily threw on a t-shirt and got out of bed.

“Then don’t stay!” You replied, scolding him. “And hey, if you really want me to feel like a whore, just leave some money on my bedside table on your way out!”

You didn’t like looking like a fool, you didn’t like being used, and you certainly didn’t want to be around someone who didn’t feel the same way as you felt about them.

Your diner allowed you to meet a lot of different people from all walks of life, families, travelers, and even monster hunters.

You enjoyed Dean’s company, it wasn’t just the sex. It was the talking before and after, or when he asked you if you created any new recipes lately, and slyly asking if he could test them out before you put them on the menu for the diner.

He was so cute and sexy.

But he didn’t say much on his way out of your bedroom and out of your house, probably never to return, and leaving you alone to try and get over someone who was never yours to begin with.

**********

Weeks had passed without a word from Dean, no texts, or phone calls, and he definitely didn’t come into the diner. You were positive you had chased him out of your life for good.

And yeah, maybe you did come off a little harsh but you were certain it had everything to do with the fact that you had developed deeper feelings for him and knew he didn’t feel the same way about you. At least that's what you had assumed.

But instead of trying to talk to him, you chased him away like you did with every other relationship you had.

After closing one night, you decided to put on some music to help you finish cleaning and locking up for the night. Lately, you have been listening to a lot of angry girl rock music and tonight was no different.

You, you treat me like a fool

You're making me feel used by you

Oh what do I do to break loose

Oh I'm so confused

I guess I'll pay my dues

Why do I like this abuse by you

Oh what do I do to break loose

You're just another dude

Gritting your teeth and angrily scrubbing the counter, you continued to sing, pretending the counter was Dean’s face as you fiercely moved the sponge back and forth.

Oh, baby, you got me running running running running all over town

I got nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing to show

But these wounds are proof

It's all 'cause of you, 'cause of you

You're just another dude

With the earbuds in your ears, you didn’t hear the door open and when you turned around to find Dean standing there, you clutched your chest tightly as you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“JESUS CHRIST!” You shouted in surprise.

Dean smirked. “Nope. Just me, sweetheart. You left the door unlocked, you should be more careful.”

Narrowing your expression at him, you replied, “Very funny, Dean. What the hell are you doin’ here?”

“I’m here to talk to you.” He said. “Wait…Was that song about me?”

“They’ve all been about you lately. What of it?” You snapped, continuing to scrub the counter tops.

“Can you stop that so I can talk to you for a minute, please baby?” He asked.

You pointed a finger at him.

“Oh no, you don’t get to call me that.” You said.

Dean grabbed the sponge out of your hand and flung it across the room.

“The fuck are you doing, Dean?!!” You yelled.

“I want you to listen to what I have to say!” He said.

Leaning across the counter, you looked into his hypnotizing green eyes and said, “Fine! Talk!”

Dean wiped his lips with his thumb and forefinger before he started, You could tell he was nervous and not used to saying what he was feeling.

“Y/n, do you think I just move from town to town bedding local women?” He asked.

You replied, “I don’t know, Dean. That’s not usually a topic of conversation when your dick is buried deep inside me.”

“I do love how direct you are, sweetheart.” He said with a chuckle.

His smile quickly disappeared when he noticed how unamused you were.

“Anyway…I usually don’t come back to town after I’ve finished a job especially if I met someone. It’s a one time thing and they never see me again. I came back here because I genuinely liked you, I liked talking with you, laughing with you, eating your pie…both kinds.” He said with a wink and a devilish smile.

You were angry that he made you blush.

“And I usually don’t share my real name or life with anyone. I let you into my real life. I could have walked away after I saved you from that werewolf.” Said Dean.

“Then why didn’t you , Dean?” You asked.

A warm smile stretched across his lips as he replied, “I told you. It’s because I liked you. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you were just another notch on my belt because you’re not and look, my life isn’t exactly stable, I don’t have steady relationships because of what my brother and I do so—”

You cut him off by leaning across the counter and gently pressing your lips to his. Dean kissed you back, his hand cupping your cheek as you melted into his kiss like you had done time and time again.

It was really hard to stay mad at him when his feelings were pouring out of him like blood from an open wound.

“I like you too, Dean.” You whispered as heat rushed to your cheeks and you gave him a warm smile.

“You do?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Ok, well are you done listening to angry, man hating music? I did say I was sorry.” Said Dean.

“Maybe.” You said with a wink.

His tongue brushed against your bottom lip as you gasped against his mouth and he became frustrated with the counter directly in front of him so he climbed over and caged you in against the edge.

Dean nipped at your chin before his teeth clashed with yours in another aggressive kiss. You pulled away to ask him, “Are you hungry? I could make–”

He claimed your lips again and replied, “Oh I’m hungry sweetheart, but not for food. I want a taste of your sweet pecan pie, first.”

Warmth flushed across your cheeks as you smiled and replied, “I’ll lock the door, baby.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @vaguekayla @stoneyggirl2

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @deans-spinster-witch @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #ericca’s 500 follower celebration #ericca answers

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fandom-friday · 11 months ago

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The goal of Fandom Friday: provide a place where people can shout-out their favorite creators from the week, whether it’s a piece of fan art that made you smile or a fanfic that moved you. Drop a link to your favorite creations this week into my ask box along with what you loved about it, and I will give them a shout! It doesn’t have to be Star Wars either! If it’s on another website (AO3, Twitter, etc.), please be sure to state that as well.

This happens each week, so don’t feel like you’ve got to get out everything in one week. Just keep track of them throughout the week or send me an ask whenever you find something, and I’ll drop them all on Fridays (or throughout the weekend if I get a lot). The cutoff for each week is THURSDAY 12 PM (I’m in the Pacific timezone). Anything received after that will roll to the next week. A summary of the weeks’ recs will be posted at the end of the weekly queue, so check back here for all of the awesome fics and art! And be sure to go give the creations on that list some love (and don’t just share the ask responses I put out).

2024 Fandom Friday Weekly Summary Master List

Rules and additional details under the cut! PLEASE make sure you read the rules before sending something in. If your submission violates any of the rules, I will delete it.

Rules:

Please send submissions to my ask box (sending them all to one place makes wrangling them easier each week). In your ask, please include the creator’s handle, a link to their work/post (if links aren’t working for the ask, please DM me them), and what you loved about it!

Please ensure the link is to the creator’s original post and not your own reblog or repost of their work (if they’re on another platform). The idea is to drive people to visit the creator’s page!

The creation does not have to have been posted this week! It can be something older. Also, don’t worry about whether or not a rec is a repeat from a prior week. Just looking to celebrate things that made an impression on you this week, whether you’ve seen it before or not!

NSFW is alright! Just make sure you note it in the ask so I can flag appropriately! Since I’m including 18+ material, minors may not participate. 18+ posts will be tagged with NSFT/lemon/lemony lemon (trying to cover all my bases).

NO incest, underage, cl*necest blogs, master/padawan (or similar power dynamics), dub-con/non-con/rape occurring IN the fic (to include stalker/obsessive behavior fics). Also, no H*rry Potter. There are a few others that I also won’t share due to my discomfort with them (i.e., R*xsoka), so if you’re not sure, ask. Also, many of you submit multiple works at once, and that’s fine, but if one of those works contains something that violates the rules, I will delete the entire ask, so something to be extra careful about when submitting!

Submissions that deal with 18+ material or difficult/triggering topics (pregnancy, abuse, drug use, etc.) MUST BE TAGGED APPROPRIATELY.

If your rec involves spoilers from a show that’s currently running, please include that info in the ask so I can tag it appropriately (I will normally tag a few different ways, but I always use #<show title> spoilers if you need to filter (for example: Andor spoilers will be tagged #Andor Spoilers). I will stop tagging spoilers two weeks after the show stops airing.

You can submit GIF sets or edits, but please ensure you are submitting from the blog that actually created them. Wanted to add that caution since there’s been a lot of people stealing/reposting GIFs and edits in particular recently. So just be cautious.

Try to avoid commentary in your ask that might make others feel bad (“the only person who knows how to write XXX correctly…”). It’s important to be able to appreciate creators without making others feel bad, so let’s try to keep the commentary complimentary without being off-putting for other creators.

Self recommendations are allowed and encouraged! Shout out your own hard work! You deserve the recognition!

*Rules subject to change so PLEASE make sure you read them before sending something in. If your submission violates any of the rules, I will delete it.

**If you have any questions about any of the rules, don’t hesitate to DM me!In addition to sending me asks, I highly encourage you to go either leave a comment on and/or reblog someone’s work (tag me or use the #Fandom Friday tag if you do!). Let’s get the interaction back up on this website and show the creators that work so hard on their stuff some love!

#FANDOM FRIDAY

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writeroutoftime · 4 months ago

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3k/5 year blog anniversary celebration!!

Oh my goodness!! I can't believe I've been on this same blog for 5 whole years now - that is absolutely crazy!! Not only that, but there are 3,000 of you lovely people who have liked at least one of my stories and decided to stick around! From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much!! 💛🥰

(and just in case anyone was wondering, this is the first story I posted on this blog - lol 🙈)

more on that below, though.

In honor of both of these milestones, I wanted to put together a little celebration I'll be hosting over the next week! Something to say thank you for everyone who has supported me with likes, reblogs, comments, and lovely asks! Here's what we've got! And don’t worry, I’ll still be working on my requests!

(oh and here is my updated list of who I write for!)

✍️ - send me a character and a prompt(s) from this list and I'll write a fluffy or angsty drabble!

🌶️ - send me a character and a prompt(s) from this list and I'll try to write a smut drabble! (first time I'm doing this - so please go easy on me! and, of course, only 18+ please)

🥳 - shout out your favorite author or fic - this can be your own or someone else's! let's celebrate our wonderful community of writers!

✨ - ask me to share a snippet of one of my WIPs. I'll either share a few sentences or my overall vision for the story.

♠️ - let's play some games! fmk, would you rather, truth or truth, etc!

I'll be running this from today, 7/25 until next week, 7/30 - so send in as many asks as you would like! Can't wait to see what there is!!

Okay, now for my sappy post below! ⬇️

Again, it's crazy to me that it's been 5 years! I mean when I started this blog, I was about to start college and now I'm graduated and trying to start my professional career! I've been on tumblr longer than 5 years lol, but this is the longest I've held onto one blog! I know I'm not the most consistent poster, so it really means a lot that so many of you have stuck with me during this time!

I post my silly little stories as a way to have fun and practice my writing skills. I never thought that this many people would be excited about what I post! And I'm not just saying this, but every time you like, reblog, and comment - I am ecstatic!! I love being able to provide a sense of joy to people with my writing!

Anyway, if you made it here - thank you! 💕✨

And of course, I just want to tag a few of the lovely mutuals I've had along the way! Thank you all for being your wonderful selves!!

@zablife, @captainsophiestark, @sansaorgana, @runnning-outof-time, @ghostofskywalker

@zepskies, @theshelbyclan, @barbiegirlbaby - and so many more!!

#rita's 3k/5 year celebration #azriel x reader #rhys x reader #cassian x reader #tyler owens x reader #tommy shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #jamie tartt x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #steve harrington x reader #ruhn danaan x reader #jack thompson x reader #matt murdock x reader

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lycanpunk667 · 1 month ago

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Okay so I have hyper specific thoughts on Tom's background and why he operates the way he does when it comes to his relationship with trusting the government and the agency he's attached to. And also a general guess at why he became a cop. This is mostly based on personal interpretation as well as some bits we've seen in canon but I haven't seen ALL of the first episode of the tomjake series so this might change.

Putting it under a cut in case people don’t want to see this rant

Tom— in terms of canon Tom— is a government dog. Like he clearly trained his whole life to be a spy, possibly grew up in an environment that was DELIGHTED to help him considering he was 26 in season 1 and on missions. Which might not be THAT young technically, but going out into the field? Where he could die? This either implies he’s extremely physically capable (which he is in terms of physicality and training), he was raised for it since a very young age, or he’s a prodigy at whatever he was. And considering how socially inept and trusting he tends to be I’ll bet it’s something along the lines of all three. Well trained dog wasn’t properly socialized at a young age.

Speaking of missions, ALL THAT happened to him on his FIRST one. He was a YOUNG MAN. And he clearly got deeply physically scarred and traumatized and instead of trying to distance himself or ask for time off he not only went right back to the agency but blamed himself entirely for what happened and tried to MAKE UP FOR HIS FAILURE. And not, oh, you know, the fault of sending someone out who was not prepared to be singled out and tortured to the point of EXTREME physical scarring. He blamed himself, and he's spending his time in season 1 apparently hunting down the guy who is a direct source for a lot of his trauma. On a reality tv show where he is so so deeply not trained obviously to interact with people. He's not designed for that. And then he fails.

Then he gets fired, has a breakdown, and he gets a job offered by the one occupation that would even come close to mimicking the thing he’s literally spent his whole life working towards after he maybe kind of gets some unofficial closure? Kind of. He's still fired, and so he goes to the Next Best Thing. Which is a cop.

He’s just raised in an environment that primes him to overly trust people in power like that! And he became a cop because he wasn’t built for anything else! He believes that Stopping Bad Guys is the way he can help people! And he STILL trusts the people who threw him into this enough to go right back to a system this corrupt! Anyway I'm gonna make a reblog specifically for the MI au spin on this whole mess. which is even more messed up but it's way less applicable to canon Tom.

#tom disventure camp #punk speaks #punk rambles #ohhhhh rotating him in my brain #disventure camp

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wild-karrde · 1 year ago

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NEW WEEK, NEW RECS! START SENDING YOUR FAVORITE FANDOM CREATIONS FROM THIS WEEK IN FOR ME TO QUEUE UP FOR FRIDAY!

This happens each week, so don’t feel like you’ve got to get out everything in one week. Just keep track of them throughout the week or send me an ask whenever you find something, and I’ll drop them all on Fridays (or throughout the weekend if I get a lot). You may submit for this week until THURSDAY MORNING (I’m in the Pacific timezone). Anything received after that will roll to the next week. A summary of the weeks’ recs will get added onto this post on Saturday, so check back here for all of the awesome fics and art! And be sure to go give the creations on that list some love (and don’t just share the ask responses I put out).

This week’s submissions will start posting on Friday, October 6 13.

Rules and additional details under the cut! PLEASE make sure you read the rules before sending something in. If your submission violates any of the rules, I will delete it.

Rules:

NO incest, underage, cl*necest, master/padawan (or similar power dynamics), dub-con/non-con/rape. Also, no H*rry Potter. There are a few others that I also won’t share due to my discomfort with them (i.e., R*xsoka), so if you’re not sure, ask. Also, many of you submit multiple works at once, and that’s fine, but if one of those works contains something that violates the rules, I will delete the entire ask, so something to be extra careful about when submitting!

If your rec involves spoilers from a show that’s currently running, please include that info in the ask so I can tag it appropriately (I will normally tag a few different ways, but I always use #<show title> spoilers if you need to filter, for example: Andor spoilerswill be tagged #Andor Spoilers). I will stop tagging spoilers two weeks after the show stops airing.

Self recommendations are allowed and encouraged! Shout out your own hard work! You deserve the recognition!

*Rules subject to change so PLEASE make sure you read them before sending something in. If your submission violates any of the rules, I will delete it.

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redahlia-writes · 1 year ago

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battle cries. | din djarin

Abstract: “I miss you,” the noises from downstairs should’ve been overpowering–music, shouting, broken glass, but she heard his murmur clearly, or perhaps she read it on his moving lips. “I never thought I would be doing any of it without you. I miss you.”

“Din, please,” it scratched at her throat with desperation, eyes heavy with tears unshed.

Please, stop saying that.

Please, come closer.

Please, go away.

Please, kiss me.

Content: f!reader; canon divergence, manda'lor din, (mild) smut, angst, i mean Angst, break-ups, borderline toxic past relationship

Words: 2.5k

a/n: inspired by battle cries by the amazing devil, which i suggest listening to before/during

also on AO3 - masterlist

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

“You haven’t changed one bit.”

The voice greeting her at the table was familiar, even through the modulor. She looked up into a dark visor, a helmet slightly tilted, the expanse of beskar reflecting flickering neon lights all across his torso, arms, shoulders–the mythosaur casting shadows on one, another creature on the other. His clan, the mudhorn.

“How’d you find me?” a whisper, hand tightening around the almost empty glass in front of her, the sticky table she rested her bent arms on digging lines into her skin.

“Luck,” he shrugged, taking one step closer. “I was passing by, and heard someone ordering Emerald wine,” she could almost picture the smile in his words, causing an ache to spread from the middle of her chest all through her limbs, so familiar she almost relished in it.

“Many people drink Emerald wine, Din,” she returned, looking into her glass and swirling it around a bit, the bright liquid sloshing side to side.

“Not in a place like this,” now the smile was crystal clear, and she downed the rest of the drink in one go. “What are you doing here?”

“Night off,” she shrugged, leaning back, arms unsticking from the table as she lifted one to call for another glass, the other curling against her chest. “What about you? I thought there wouldn’t be time for you to run around now that you’re Manda’lor.”

“I get nights off, too,” he tucked his chin down, searching for her gaze. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“What for?” her mouth felt dry, heart thundering and pushing into her ribs.

“I’ve missed you,” such an easy admission. Like a punch in the gut. “Could we go someplace else? More private?”

“Why?” she knew the moment he’d asked the question she would say yes, of course. She knew pretending otherwise did nothing–not for her, not for him. He knew that, too, but played along.

“I just wanna talk,” soft words, careful and controlled, like trying to tame a wild creature.

“Why, Din?” she repeated, and at last looked up.

She knew his shape like the back of her hand–the ridges and notches of his armor, the slope of his shoulders, that slight bent in his arms when he stood, the barely-there shift of his hip as he bent one knee, keeping the other leg out. She knew him over, under, all around.

“I haven’t seen you in years, cyar’ad,” he justified, hands falling to the table, leaning forward. She recoiled at the name, shifting back on instinct even when everything in her told her to move in his direction, reach for him. “Please.”

Refuse him, her mind begged–but she’d never been able to do it. Not when they were 15 years old, not as they grew up, certainly not in that moment.

“They have some rooms upstairs,” she sighed, hands falling from the glass as she stood. Din didn’t move, followed her with his eyes as she walked around the table, squeezing past him–he reached to brush her hand, and she immediately pulled away. “I’ll see what I can do.”

A shitty place came with a shitty room, which she thought was for the best–perhaps it could end soon. Perhaps he would go away. Away from the gray walls and gray bed and gray town outside the window. Away from her.

The door locked with a noise that reverberated through her bones, she just by the window and he a few steps behind–him looking at her, and her looking outside, arms crossed over her stomach.

“Cyar’ad, will you look at me?” no, her mind raged, yet she turned around, tipping her chin up–fake pride. Faker courage.

He sighed before bringing his hands up, palms over the sides of his helmet and thumbs hooked underneath, lifting it slightly.

“What are you doing?” alarm set in her voice as she jolted forward, hands wrapping around his wrists to stop him.

They hadn’t touched in so long, and even through the leather of his gloves electricity fizzled down her arms, burning her palms.

“Look at me,” he repeated, while she was shaking her head.

“We went to the Living Waters for a reason, you can’t–” the beginning of the end, such a beautiful place that now carried only bitter memories. The mythosaur. The Darksaber. Din, the Manda’lor.

“Yes,” he tried to nod, the movement hindered by their hands. “But you’re still my riduur,” he fought against her hold, slowly pulling the helmet off. “Of course I can,” his voice different, painfully familiar, even more painfully distant in her memory.

“We were kids, Din,” she pulled away abruptly, hands folding over her chest. “I don’t think that counts for anything.”

“It counts for me,” he shrugged, taking one step forward–she took one step back and aside, out of his line of sight, moving closer to the door. “I do miss you.”

“We talked about this,” her voice felt impossibly small.

She’d never once felt small when she was with him, but in that moment she might as well have disappeared between the cracks of the floorboards.

“Not really,” one step forward, one back, her hands brushing the wall behind her. “You left,” he wasn’t accusing her, she realized. Merely stating a fact. Somehow, it didn’t make it easier.

“I told you why, I couldn’t–”

“You couldn’t do it,” he finished for her, and with his next step her back collided with the wall. The door was on her left side–she could just run away. Again. “You never told me what it was.”

“All of it,” a cracked whisper, eyes wandering around–unsure on whether to set on her reflection on his armor or lift up to look at him or stare at the town outside again instead. “You’re the Manda'lor. The one ruler. I’m not even sure I believe in any of that anymore. I couldn’t–can’t do it.”

“You saw the mythosaur–same as I did,” she exhaled at his closeness, eyes falling shut. Perhaps she could pretend it was all in her head–she had before, playing variations of that conversation over and over again when sleep eluded her.

“I saw a creature people believed had ceased existing–just a creature,” shaky breaths, she closed her hands into tight fists at her sides. “No higher power. No divine. Just an animal.”

“Cyar’ad,” she wasn’t sure when he’d removed his gloves, but jumped at the brush of his bare fingertips across her cheek, eyes flying open to look up at him. “You believed in the battles,” he looked so different, yet the same. There were wrinkles around his eyes she’d never seen before, strands of silver through his hair, patches of white in his trimmed beard. “We used to be the best of them when together.”

“I got tired,” she shook her head, attempting to escape his touch. But he wasn’t holding her–a magnet kept her in place, kept her close to him. “I am tired.”

“I miss you,” the noises from downstairs should’ve been overpowering–music, shouting, broken glass, but she heard his murmur clearly, or perhaps she read it on his moving lips. “I never thought I would be doing any of it without you. I miss you.”

“Din, please,” it scratched at her throat with desperation, eyes heavy with tears unshed.

Please, stop saying that.

Please, come closer.

Please, go away.

Please, kiss me.

He once used to be able to read her mind, anticipate her every move, every request. She’d loved that of them, of him. She wondered if he still could as he claimed her lips for a kiss, or if he’d simply acted on his own desires.

Familiar hands traced a path down her body as he pressed himself against her, kissing and kissing and kissing her until her lips tingled and her breath was short. She could feel each ridge of his armor push into her flesh–it used to make them laugh when their armors would clash together, alerting possibly every person in the near vicinity that they’d come together again. But her armor was long gone, left behind the night she’d walked away.

His hands were scorching from above her clothes, pushing and pulling and holding her close as he prodded her mouth open, chasing the taste of the wine from her.

She ached, her body trapped between him and the wall, hands following the notches of his armor with a careful touch, as if it might burn her–she burned inside already, a fire ignited by his presence alone, burning brighter the closer he got, the more he touched and touched and touched.

It was enough to make her forget everything else, that kiss. To make her forget the shouts, the fighting, the tears, the silences–a ringing in her ears that covered those noises that haunted her on quiet, lonely nights. All that had left her tired, so fucking tired.

“I miss you,” hands gripping her sides, hoisting her up, pulling her to him. “Miss you,” mumbled across her jaw, her neck, heavy breathing that made her dizzy. “Ni nunynir gar.”

How fitting, she thought, that their language was so violent. That to miss meant also to not hit the target. A warrior’s speech–a warrior she was no longer.

“Come home with me,” touching, pulling, kissing, Din’s hands wandering over and under her clothes, a desperation she remembered from their last days together, when to drown in each other’s bodies was the only way to not be at each other’s throats. “Come back to Mandalore. Be with me. Please. Please.”

“I miss you, too,” a small admission that carried the weight of years apart. It was all that she could give him then–she knew already how the night would end. She knew already Din would put up a fight. He’d always been the best of them, and the weapon at his side, digging into the back of her thigh as she kept her legs wrapped around him, was proof enough of that.

Sighs in exchange for battle cries as he kissed her neck, her chin, her mouth, messy and hasty as he tore at her clothes, baring her from the waist down, the desperation of his words channeled into his motions.

“Love you,” mouth, “love you,” neck, “love you,” collarbones, “I love you,” chest–right above her heart while, still fully clothed if not for his trousers zipped open, he pushed into her with a cry of missed you, missed you, missed you.

A coming home to him–the belief it was just the beginning. A start over.

A release, a respite for her from the hurt–the knowledge it was going to be a final goodbye.

Fast and almost violent, soothing the ache in her chest somehow as she grasped onto him, shirt riding up the small of her back with each of his thrust and leaving scrapes from the drag across the wall–again and again, her hands buried in his hair. She used to wake up with his hair tangled up in her eyes, rake her fingers through his curls while he slept.

The first wave of pleasure came crashing down on them both quickly, one of his arms wrapped underneath her legs for support while the other pressed into the wall, keeping them standing, panting against each other’s lips, his hips rutting against hers until it hurt–and she welcomed it. She’d tried in the beginning to burn the feeling of him away from her, drowning in others, drowning in wine, but it never worked, it never helped.

Years spent longing for that–for his hands on her skin, for his kisses, for the stretch between her legs. Aching for the way he pulled her clothes away–with care, in spite of the urgency in his eyes, in his motions; for the feel of his body underneath her hands as she did the same with him–a little more uncaring, trailing pieces of armor and wrinkled clothes behind them.

Over and over through the night, getting lost in pleasure and pain equally, bruises on him and burns on her–as if trying to make up for the time lost. As if trying to accumulate, collect, hoard for the inevitable end, something to cling on to in the aftermath.

In the end they were just tangled bodies over the gray bed, skin against skin and his head on her chest where it always used to rest–she wondered if he could hear her heart pounding out his name, raging against her set mind. Please, please, please, don’t do it, just stay.

When she stood, she hurt in different ways–her body spent, battered; her heart cracking at the mere sound of his voice.

“What are you doing?” she hoped the haze clung to him, a moment of bliss that could last until she was gone. She cleared her throat, scratched from her calling out his name.

“I have to go home,” her words took some time to register–enough so that she could start picking up the layers over her body. He sat, frowning so deeply a multitude of lines showed on his face.

“I thought–”

“I know. I’m sorry,” in spite of the turmoil, of her insides turning and raging against her, she wasn’t going to scream, wasn’t going to beat her chest. She was just going to pretend it was fine–she was fine.

“Cyar’ad, wait,” she couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand his pain on top of her own. She was so tired of it. When he stood, she shook her head and held up her hand–pretended it didn’t affect her to feel his heart thundering under her palm. “Wait–”

“No, Din,” a please, a whisper. “You have your life now, your role–I can’t be a part of that,” she shook her head, taking one step back when he took one forward, trying to reach for her–her palm still flush over his chest. “It’s done. Over. And a few years from now you’ll understand it was better this way,” it hurt to say, each word bleeding out of her mouth.

“That’s not true,” he argued, his voice raising ever so slightly. “I will miss you again. I will look for you again. Don’t leave again, cyar’ad. I love you.”

“Din,” his name was so sweet on the tip of her tongue as she took a small step forward–his hands grasped her elbows, eyes softening, begging. She reached for his face with her free hand, gently stroking the patches of his beard. “Shuk'la riduurok,” a broken love–not ended, just fractured. “Let me go.”

“How can I?” he turned his head, kissed the palm of her hand, her wrist, up her covered arm while pulling her forward. “I can’t. I can’t. I–”

She let him kiss her again, deep and demanding and desperate, holding onto her tightly–she let him, clinging to the feeling in the attempt to store it away, tuck it in her memory to keep forever, because she knew the moment she’d break away, something in her would shatter, something in him would crack.

“I love you, too,” whispered with tears dwelling in her eyes, frozen there until the door closed behind her–just a piece of wood separating them, thin enough to allow her to hear him moving around in an attempt to gather his things. Maybe to go after her, maybe not to.

It didn’t matter.

One beat–two. She was gone.

#redahlia #battle cries #pedrostories #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #manda'lor!din #manda'lor din x reader #manda'lor!din djarin #manda'lor din djarin

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supernaturalgirl20 · 2 years ago

Text

Realisation

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, fingering, cursing, jealousy, angsty, mention of fertility issues, mentions of separation.

Summary: you and Marcus join his family for dinner but he can’t seem to keep his hands off you. Theresa also pushes Marcus to the limit and that fiery temper makes a reappearance.

Series Masterlist

A/N: ahhh nearly there…only one more part to go 😊ok so some people have asked me to keep the Taglist going so I will do it for another little while 😜

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

You could sense him behind you - his warmth permeating your skin - and a smile slowly edged its way onto your face as his arms wrapped around you.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he whispers into the skin of your neck as he peppers kisses there. His hand begins to wander and his fingers play with the hem of your white dress.

“Think we could skip dinner and just stay here, maybe test out the strength of that hanging chair mom bought in the study?” Marcus asks as he gazes at you in the mirror, eyes glazed over with lust.

Turning in his arms, you move your hand along his chest and up his neck before running your fingers through his hair. His eyes close as he releases a contented sigh. “I think your mom would kill us if we missed dinner. Maybe we could hang back tomorrow when they all go to church, test it out then?”

His eyes shoot open and for a moment he just stares at you. “God you’re fucking perfect, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too. Now,” you say as you run your hands down along the lapels of his blazer, “we better get going before they send out a search party.” Marcus leans in and captures your lips in a searing kiss before pulling away and leading you out of the room and down the stairs to join everyone else.

***

Marcus holds open the door to the restaurant as he guides you inside, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back and when you glance up at him you find him already staring at you with a smile on his face.

Mary had reserved an area at the back of the restaurant and when you both reach the table you see that some family friends have been invited too. You spot Theresa in the corner, a wicked smile on her face and an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach.

You’ve never liked her.

There was always something off about her and it didn’t help that she had an unwavering attraction to Marcus.

Settling into your chair you smile at Marcus as he pours you a glass of red, taking a sip of the smooth aromatic drink. His hand rests atop your thigh, his fingers tracing patterns into your skin and you can’t help the shiver that runs through you.

Your heartbeat is thrumming beneath your skin, your cunt pulsating with desire and you want nothing more than for Marcus to move his fingers to where you desperately need them.

As if he can sense what’s on your mind, he turns away from his brother James and looks at you through hooded eyes. He has a devilish glint in his eyes and a sly smirk slowly edges its way onto his face.

“Everything ok, baby?” He asks teasingly.

“Yep,” you stammer as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. His eyebrow is raised in question but his fingers slowly move beneath the hem of your dress, forging a trail up along your thigh and towards your heat.

His fingers move your underwear aside and run along your slick and you try so desperately not to moan. You glance quickly around the table and everyone seems to be engrossed in their own conversations. Thank god, you think to yourself before you jump slightly, the feel of his thick fingers slowly pushing their way inside you.

“If you keep quiet baby, I’ll fuck you good and hard later just how you like,” he whispers as he leans into you.

His fingers work in and out of you slowly as his thumb circles your swollen bud. You can feel your release working its way towards the edge and when he curls his finger and presses your clit hard you clench around his thick digits.

You bite into your lips harder and you think you’ve drawn blood but you don’t care, you feel amazing. Marcus winks at you, leaning in and kissing you softly before pulling his fingers from your heat.

He brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, a soft groan slipping from his lips. “Someone’s enjoying their meal,” Mary says with a smile on her face and you sink back into the chair.

“Absolutely delicious, mom. Best meal I’ve ever had,” Marcus says winking at you before digging into his meal.

***

The food is delicious and dinner passes quickly with everyone having a great time. It’s nice spending time with family and the atmosphere is warm and cheerful but you still can’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The faint call of your name draws your attention and you glance across the table to Theresa who is staring at you with a sly smile.

“I was just saying, it’s a shame you and Marcus don’t have any children yet. I mean how long are you two married now? Four, five years? Do you not want any children?”

Your whole body tensed.

A wave of emotion swells up inside you and you can feel the eyes of everyone at the table boring into you. I wish the floor would open and swallow me whole.

Other members of Marcus’s extended family and friends join in, asking when you plan to have a family, how you would both make great parents and it all just becomes too much.

Marcus gives your thigh a squeeze, a silent reassurance that he’s got you before he looks sternly across at Theresa.

“Unfortunately for you Theresa, what happens in our marriage is none of your concern. Myself and Y/N are happy and that’s all that matters. If and when we decide to have a family is between us, no one else so I’ll ask kindly that you mind your own business.”

“I was just curious is all. When we were growing up you always talked about having your own family so I assume it’s Y/N who doesn’t want any. I’m pretty sure that grounds for annulment,” Theresa says, eyes shifting around the table searching for someone to back her up.

Your eyes are closed now and you are trying so fucking hard not to cry. What makes it worse is that she's right. Marcus has always been excited about having a family and what if you are the problem. What then?

You push your chair back and grab your purse before rushing towards the bathroom.

Marcus is standing now and his gaze stays with you until you're out of sight before he turns to Theresa. “You fucking bitch. How dare you. You’re nothing but a cheap whore who can’t shut her mouth. And you’re fucking delusional, because even though I’ve turned you down countless times, you still won’t get the message. I don’t want you. Never have. Never will. Y/N is my wife and the love of my life. It’s gonna be me and her forever, so back the fuck off.”

Theresa gasps and feigns insult, before standing and pointing her finger at him but before she can get a word out of her mouth, John stands with a shout.

“Theresa, I think you’ve said enough. Joanne, you are a dear friend of the family but if you don’t leave right now and take your daughter with you, I’ll be forced to do something I’m gonna regret.” His tone is harsh and his face is stern but they get the message and leave quickly.

He turns his gaze to Marcus, “go to her son. See if she’s ok.” Marcus nods his head before rushing after you.

***

A knock on the door startles you and you quickly wipe the tears from your eyes before touching up your makeup. “Baby, it’s me,”

Marcus whispers softly through the door and you release a shuddered breath before closing your eyes and counting to ten.

With a deep inhale you calm yourself before reaching for the door handle and slowly opening it. Marcus pushes his way in and locks the door behind him, then turns to face you.

His eyes take you in before meeting your gaze, eyes full of sympathy, full of love. “I’m so sorry about her, baby. She should never have been invited but I promise this was the last time that she will ever be around us.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur as you let your gaze wander to the floor. “It’s not fine,” Marcus growled as he reached out a hand and caressed your cheek.

“That bitch doesn’t know what she’s talking about, ok?” He slides his hand under your chin and tilts your head slightly, your eyes meeting his.

“She’s right though. I’m the reason you don’t have a family. I’m broken,” you said with a strangled sob.

“Baby, we’ve been over this. The only family I need is you. That’s it.”

“But - but what if it isn’t enough and then you resent me, I….” You whimper as tears begin to streak across your face.

“God, you infuriate me baby. Yes, you’re a pain in the ass and you drive me absolutely fucking crazy half the time but I won’t ever resent you. I love you. You’re smart, funny, crazy talented at your job and so fucking beautiful, even more so because you don’t actually think so. I’m sorry for every mistake I’ve made, for every harsh thing I’ve ever said, for every time I’ve ignored our problems and let you deal with them on your own. I'm sorry for ever making you think this is your fault. It isn’t. Hell, I might be the reason we can’t get pregnant.”

His hands cup your cheeks as he stares down at you. “I love you. I’ve loved you from our first date and I’m gonna love you until my last breath.”

“Marcus,” you stutter. He pulls you closer towards him placing a hand at the back of your neck, the other grips your waist tight. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. You are the most important thing to me, I just forgot to show you how much. I forgot to just love you. I won’t make that mistake again.” His breathing is ragged as he finishes his speech, his thumb rubbing along the skin of your cheek.

You take in a shuddered breath as you stare into his eyes. Those beautiful whiskey coloured orbs and you simply nod as a watery smile spreads across your face. “I’ve only ever wanted you, Marcus. Just you.”

He smiles brightly, “yeah?” He asks, his eyes darting between yours.

“Yeah.” He leans in and kisses you passionately, his arms moving along your waist to wrap around you, pulling you into him. A moan escapes your lips at the feel of his hardened length against you.

“Fuck baby. I need you,” he breathes out as his hands grab at your ass. “Can I have you? Right here, baby?”

Words escape you, the burning desire coursing through your veins invading your senses. Marcus wastes no time in turning you around and pushing you against the sink. He angles your hips just right and his hand moves under your dress finding your underwear and ripping them off.

“Gonna fuck you now baby, ok?” He whispers into the skin of your neck.

“Do it. Wanna feel you Marcus, please!” You beg.

He groans into your shoulder as he lines up at your entrance and thrusts up into you. You both moan as you stretch to accommodate him. His pace is brutal. His rough hands grip your waist tight as he fucks the frustration away and you are loving it. You love when he gets like this; completely feral.

“Oh fuck! Marcus…oh god..” you moan loudly. He reaches around and tilts your head so you can see yourselves in the mirror. “Want you to watch me fuck you baby. Wanna see your face when you come.”

His hand snakes down to your clit, rubbing over your swollen bud as he continues to fuck into you. He knows your close - so is he - but he wants to see you come undone first.

“Oh…oh fuck…fuck Marcus I’m….I’m gonna…” you stutter as you teeter along the edge.

He bites into your shoulder, “come on baby, come all over my cock. Wanna feel you.” You come completely undone as your cunt pulses around him. He grunts loudly into your ear as he finishes inside you.

You both just stay like that for a moment, his gaze locked on you in the mirror. “I love you, baby. And I promise you that we’ll get through this together.”

“Together,” you whisper as you tilt your head to kiss him softly. Pulling away, he helps fix you up as he readjusts himself. He kisses you passionately before pulling back and leaning into your ear. “Wanna skip that show and test out that hanging chair?”

“Hell yes. Lead the way, baby,” you purred as you laced your fingers with his. All doubts and insecurities fade as you leave the restaurant. Fuck Theresa Lisbon, you think to yourself as Marcus wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as he hails a cab.

***

Marcus had texted his mom and apologised for leaving but she was having none of it. Messaging back to say that we didn’t have to apologise and to enjoy some time alone.

Which you did.

Many times. And the hanging chair in the study was definitely sturdy.

The following morning, a gentle knock on the bedroom door startled you awake and Marcus groaned tiredly as he shuffled from bed and opened it.

“Mom?” What are you…” Mary pushes her way inside carrying a tray of breakfast, setting it on the bedside locker before sitting at the end of the bed.

You look at Marcus, perplexed as to what she wants but he just closes the door and shrugs his shoulders.

Mary waits until he’s slid back under the duvet and pulled you close before she begins to speak. “I know,” she states as she glances between you both.

“Know what?” Marcus asks nervously, his hand squeezing you slightly. She gives him an incredulous look before rolling her eyes.

“I know that you two were separating. No one said anything before you ask but - a mother always knows. Besides, you two were at each other's throats from the minute you both arrived. Wasn’t hard to put together.” She sighs, her gaze drifting to the sheets bundled in her hands before it meets you both again.

“I’m assuming, from last night, it has something to do with having a baby.” Marcus looks down at you before meeting his mothers gaze and nodding.

“Look, I’m no expert but I have had three children so I know something about it at least. People always assume that when they want to have a baby that all they have to do is have sex without protection and boom, pregnant. That’s not always the case. I didn’t get pregnant with Laura until a year after me and your dad started trying.” Marcus’s face tinges pink at the mention of his parents getting down to business and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

“Then we had James but that took some months too. With you Marcus, we weren’t even really trying and I got pregnant straight away. What I’m trying to say is that good things take time. Sometimes longer than we expect and sometimes it never happens at all. And that’s ok too. There are other ways to have a baby. All that really matters is that you both love each other.”

She reaches for Marcus’s hand, then yours and she looks between you both with a smile on her face. “It will happen when the time is right and if it doesn’t, you still have each other.”

Marcus looks to you then and smiles, those brown eyes full of love and affection and you know that everything will be alright.

“Ok, I’ll leave you two alone. Take your time and enjoy breakfast.”

“Thanks mom.” Mary winks at you both before closing the door behind her, leaving you alone. “I think she’s right. Maybe we shouldn’t put too much pressure on ourselves and just focus on getting back to where we were as a couple.” Marcus says softly, his thumb rubbing into your hand.

“I agree. Maybe we should go to therapy too, just to - ya know.” Marcus nods his head as he leans in and presses his lips to yours softly. Pulling away he rests his forehead against yours, “let’s just enjoy the next few days and go from there.”

“I love you Marcus.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Part 6

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @dindjarinswhore @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories @pedr0swh0r3 @musings-of-a-rose @karlawithacapitalk @harriedandharassed @untitledarea

#pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike x female reader #the mentalist fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

Text

The Quiet Ones 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: don’t ask me why I did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You watch as the man looks along the door frame; back and forth, up and down. He knocks again and you flinch. You back up as you push on the door, as if it can make the barrier thicker.

“Come on, baby cakes, I know you’re in there,” he says, “I just brought you a treat. It’s Wednesday... hump day, some call it.”

You step back and hit the table. You squeak and wince away from it, rubbing your forearm where it met the corner. This can’t be happening. He can’t be there. How did he find you?

“London fog, or whatever? It’s the one you like,” he calls, a taunting tinge in his voice.

“Go away,” you force out.

You hear a snort and a softer tap on the wood, “come on, jelly bean, I know you’re a sweet girl. Don’t be like that. It’s a nice gesture so don’t be rude.”

You shake your head and turn, rushing away to grab your phone from your desk. You fumble to unlock it and come back to hover, just a few feet from the door. You can see his shadow underneath, seeping in through the crack.

“I’m...” you gulp dryly, “I’ll call the police.”

“Go ahead,” he sneers as the door shifts. He must be leaning on it.

You don’t say anything else. There’s not point arguing with this man and no point calling the police. They don’t come when your neighbours scream all night long. You just go back to your desk and sit.

You look at the monitor and skim the document, trying to refocus. Where were you? You can’t remember.

“You’re really gonna hang me out to dry?” He raises his voice so you can hear.

You just shake your head and type. He’s not there. The door is locked and you’re all alone. This is your apartment. Your life. It’s Wednesday and you already have your tea. Your tea!

You get up and go to the kitchen to retrieve the lukewarm Earl Grey. Oh well. Just means you don’t need milk. You take it back to your desk.

“It’s the quiet ones you gotta look out for,” the man says as the floor creaks and betrays your movement, “not as nice as they look.”

You stop just at the end of the entryway and look over. His shadow shifts and retreats. You listen to his footsteps recede. You should go over and make sure he’s gone but you’re too afraid to go anywhere near the door. It’s like those recurring dreams where the door is always unlocked and you just can’t twist it back into place.

You stand there for a while before you can make yourself move again. You return to your desk again. You clasp your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking as the screen blurs in your vision.

Should you call the police anyway?

You grab the mouse and swirl it around. You open the notes app and type in last Wednesday’s date.

‘Man approached me at cafe. Grabbed my order. Followed me out and down the street.’

Your hands shake over the keys before you enter that day’s date.

‘Same man appeared at my apartment. Did not let him in. Left after several minutes.’

You check the autosave and click out. You watched too many shows with similar scenarios. There wasn’t much to do but to keep track. The police won’t listen if you have no record. Even then, it’s not likely. This is why you hide from the world. It’s too dangerous.

You bring your last task back up and squint at the handwritten notes scanned crookedly. It’s difficult to fall into your usual process. You’re typically a quick worker but you have to think of every word. You can’t focus past that man’s spectre.

Your nape itches as if he’s still looming right outside your door. As if you might look over and he’ll be standing right there. That thought has you sitting back, recoiling from the computer as you make yourself look at the doorway. Empty.

You get up and approach the entryway. You have to urge yourself forward, “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay...” you whisper to yourself. You clutch the seams of your pants as you near the door. You turn and stand on your toe. You close one eye and press it to the hole. It's black. You can’t see a thing.

Oh no.

That’s not good.

You get down on your knees and hands and been to see beneath the door. You only see a narrow little shadow. It could be nothing at all.

You sit back on your heels and your heart pounds. You shouldn’t look but you have to. You can’t function no knowing for sure.

You stand and check that the chain is in place. You turn the lock back and slowly twist the handle. You inch it open, a hand flat on the wood, your shoulder braced, ready to push back against any force. You peer around and find the hallways empty.

All except the pink cup at the threshold. Just standing there. Taunting you.

You shut the door, nearly slamming it, and lock it once more. You turn and put your back to it. You exhale and shake out your fingers, the crescents of your nails imprinted in your palm.

He’s gone, but you’re not to certain he won’t be back.

👄

You submit your last task for the day, an hour later than usual. You shouldn’t be this far behind. You didn’t even go to the cafe. You should be sixty minutes in the other direction.

You shut off the computer and stand. The stiff wooden chair always leaves you numb but achy. The cushion you put on the seat doesn’t help very much either. What’s especially agitating is the tension locked between your vertebrae.

That man. You haven’t stopped thinking of him. Not just today, but really all week. Since that first time you saw him. He was easier to deny then, but now... he could just be waiting for you on the other side of those walls.

You shudder and carry your untouched tea into the kitchen and dump it. You hadn’t drank a single sip, you haven’t even eaten. You’re not hungry. Your sick to your stomach.

Restless, riled, and rigid. You don’t know what to do with yourself. Usually, you’d read for a while, or watch TV, those old forgotten 70s shows that other people call boring. Yet you know, you can’t find comfort in any of that.

Even behind closed doors and drawn curtains, you can’t feel safe. The thought of making the phone call flickers again but you know better than that. You’ve peeked through the windows as the sirens flash, watched as the police offered nothing more than dismissals and remonstrances not to waste their time to the woman with the bruised cheekbone. It’s just the same as it was when you were a kid. That makes you still feel like one.

Are you talking yourself out of it because you’re scared or stupid or because it’s the truth? It’s hard to know. You never go out of you way to talk to anyone if you can help it. It’s always of utmost necessity. This might be one of those moments but you’re embarrassed. You don’t want to let anyone into the life and if you call someone, you have to do just that. You have let them in. You can’t.

So you won’t.

You sit on the sofa and cross your arms. You won’t let anyone in and you won’t go out. You’ll stay here. Maybe he’ll think he got the wrong place. Maybe he’ll give up. You can outlast him, right?

👄

There’s a rattle in the window. It keeps you awake. You fixate on it. You blame the knot in your chest on it.

Not on the memory, the persistent chill rolling up and down your spine. It’s the window not him. Not that stranger. He’s gone so why are you still thinking of him.

You keep the lamp on. The darkness is too much. You lay staring at the the refraction circle interspliced with the metal frame on the ceiling. The curve is slightly skewed by the angle. The window rattles again.

You huff. You’ll put a book against it to hold it steady. You go to the shelf on the wall and take the heaviest hardcover you can find. You take it to the window and curl your fingers around the edge of the curtain. It feels like stone. You can’t make yourself move it.

You take a breath and pull it away from the frame but don’t look outside. You lean the book on the frame, pushing it snug until you’re sure. You pause, a glint gleaming off the pane. You let go of the book and stare at the brief spark of light, an odd glare.

You inch close to the frame and peek around. You search the sky, a few stars glimmering through the city haze, the moon in a crescent. You search the silhouette of the city and the flicker comes again, this time directly in your eye. You’re drawn to the movement.

You back up and look down at you rub your eyelid. What was that? The curtain fall back into place but the light pierces through. You follow the odd laserlike beam centered on your chest. You put your hand over the green dot there and it shines on your skin. What the hell?

You dodge out of the way in disbelief and stare at the laser at it hits the wall instead. It’s bold, even in the hue of the lamp. It moves up, then down, side to side, then stops. You hold your breath. This isn’t some strange phenomenon. There’s someone out there, doing this. You know who.

You watch the beam terrified. You’ve only ever seen something like that in movies. It’s more than those little red lights you buy for cats. It’s strong, thick. That’s a target and it had just been right on you.

You rub your chest subconsciously and suddenly, the lightly moves. You watch as it swerves around so fast to make a precise shape. A shape you can’t believe. A shape you must be imagining. It stops, centered again on the wall, then retraces the same figure.

A heart.

That can’t be. It’s not real. Your dreaming.

You close your eyes and cover your ears, bending your legs as your curl your shoulders over your knees. You fall onto your side, balled into a fetal position as you shake your head. It’s a dream! Wake up, wake up, wake up...

👄

The morning rises to a thumping in your temples. You don’t know if it’s the lack off food or sleep. You’re wrought and worn from a night spent hiding from reality.

Water. Your mouth is dry. You’re dehydrated. You haven’t been paying attention to the cues. You haven’t wanted to be in this body.

You unfold yourself and sit up. You stare at the wall. The dot is gone. Is he?

You hang one leg over the edge, then the other. You nearly retract them. Like a child, you could believe in a monster under the bed. You push yourself to your feet and stagger forward.

You nearly fall through the open door into the main room of your apartment. You shuffle forward, rubbing your forehead as a sandy fog clings to your lashes. You stumble into the kitchen and lean on the counter as you fill a glass with water. You gulp until you feel queasy.

You put the glass down and flinch at your own force. You back away and wipe the stray droplets from your fingertips. You turn and teeter back into the front room. You need to get your head on straight, you have a full day of work ahead of you still.

You look towards the front door. You cross your arms protectively. You inch forward and turn to face it. You bring yourself to your toes and lean in. You still can’t see through the peep hole. You stand flat again and frown.

You go back to the kitchen and turn the kettle on. You have instant coffee in the mornings. It’s fast and efficient. No clunky machine or ridiculous press. You just need the boost.

You open the cupboard and take down the box of single packets. You slip one out and count the rest. It’s a newer box. There’s ten left. You look up and consider the bag of minute-oats. If you parse back your typical serving, that can last a little longer. You don’t need sugar in it either, that you can spare. The pasta you can ration as well. The sauce has a shelf-life once open.

You put down the packet and set the box back on the shelf. You leave the cupboard door open and go to the fridge. The eggs won’t expire for two weeks but you only have half a dozen left. The milk will go quicker. The butter... that never runs out very quickly, it hardly matters.

Are you really meting out how to wait out this man? Are you really stooping to this? Your defense is no defense. You’re just going to hunk down and hope he goes away. What else can you do?

You can’t go anywhere. You can’t even see out to make sure he’s not waiting for you. You could order groceries but that means also opening the door. How would you know it wasn’t him knocking?

He’ll get bored. He has to. It’s your only hope.

#the quiet ones #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the gray man

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asleepygremlin · 11 months ago

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I originally was going to reblog this onto my other post but decided to make it an original post so it can see the light of day because I’m too prideful of my ideas why not

Here’s the original post so people don’t get confused as this is a continuation of this: https://www.tumblr.com/asleepygremlin/738595587689218048/seven-days-left

Tl:dr: Kieran gets possessed and uses pecharunts power to heal the player from terapagos related injuries instead of getting stronger

So mochi mayhem came out

I decided to keep some details to myself because I want to cook here but I will clarify how pecharunt’s powers work in this AU/scenario and some smaller details and changes for mochi mayhem or toxic chain madness(w.i.p) as I’m calling it here

Pecharunt still has the mochi but uses it on smaller minions and it only controls them to do its bidding however the chains are used for wish granting and/or strengthening but the control is weaker if the person has a stronger will so it convinces the victim to make a wish and take the power like a sort of “contract” to lower their guard like it did with the “loyal three” (Think of it like kyubey and the magical girl system from madoka magica if you know that) the wish can only be something present however like you can’t ask to change the past (it’s not god after all). It can force chains on people but it will be weaker. People under the effects of the mochi will act more mindless but under the effects of the chains will act seemingly normal but be more actively controlled by Pecharunt like it’s possessing someone

As for story details/changes here’s what I have for now:

Instead of Pecharunt waking up because of the mythical pecha berry, it is semi awakened from Kieran’s rage and used it to awaken the “loyal three” like in the teal mask but can only communicate telepathically to Kieran to try and convince him to make a “contract” then after he does it can move around a bit and then later Pecharunt is fully awakened

Carmine is still possessed at the start of the epilogue but it’s via toxic chain instead(I’ll leave you to question how).

Since Kieran uses the wish to save mc after the indigo disk he stays in paldea along with carmine for a little while to monitor mc’s health and makes sure they don’t collapse or anything and then he goes home like in canon.

He struggles for control of his mind during that time but seeing mc happy and enjoying life helps keep the possession at bay.

After a couple of months, he sends the letter telling them to come both for the canon reasons and because he wants to try to tell mc what actually happened and because of how carmine is acting.

When meeting back up with carmine like in the epilogue, she instead acts fine with her being seemingly nice almost too sweet but with a toxic chain tied where her headband should be which makes mc question this because of how the chain is similar to the “loyal three” but of course the paldea friend group is unaware of this.

Mc tries to bring this up in secret with the paldea gang and Kieran but always never gets the opportunity due to carmine barging in whenever they would try which adds to the suspicion.

The situation is taken a lot more seriously than in the canon epilogue (so no mochi dance unfortunately XD) and instead the infected villagers are like mindless soldiers

More epilogue shenanigans and the paldea gang also get possessed but by toxic chain this time from protecting mc and Kieran from it

After Kieran comes out with the truth and talks it out with mc they attempt to find another way to save both their friends and mc, a miracle. However they have to explore outside Kitakami and to make sure nothing happens while they are gone, they contact the BB league elite four to hold down the fort so to speak

That’s all I will leave now but if I end up not using this idea like I want to and intend to do, I’ll try to write the whole thing somewhere. Sorry if it’s a bit wordy as I’m not good at putting my thoughts into words.

I want to clarify I didn’t make this because I didn’t like the epilogue we got or because it “has to be edgy” I simply wanted to explore another possible and what new insight or moral you can gleam from it like what new lessons or knowledge could the characters learn if the events were more serious or different. I don’t know I’m just like that sometimes when it comes to writing :P

Edit: after watching the untold story of Pecharunt on Pokémon’s official YouTube I might try to incorporate parallels and differences between Kieran and Pecharunt because of how they act in the fic. I don’t know how to explain it or put it into words but I think it’s interesting

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double-jango · 5 days ago

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-- Vepar || Alastor || Neal Caffrey || Vax'ildan || Eris Vanserra -- and, let's be honest, any other muse I'm feeling at the moment

A multimuse RP side-blog, written by a queer trans person with a zero tolerance policy for any form of homophobia, purity/morality policing, or misogyny. Please take a moment to check out my Rules, which you can find below the cut. Follows back from doublejango--without the dash.

Quick note: It is fine to reblog anything (except RPs) from me. Memes? Go for it, you don't have to send me anything and you don't have to reblog from the source. Art? Same deal. You like an Ask that I answered and you want to reblog it? Fine by me. Dash commentary? Sure! And tbh I wouldn't mind you reblogging RPs, but most of my partners don't want RPs reblogged. So if it looks like a roleplay post between two people, please leave it alone and don't reblog <3

I also don't mind if you Like posts. Liking and reblogging is fine, just please don't repost.

Minors, DO NOT INTERACT. Do not follow me, sends asks, or try to interact in any way unless you're over eighteen--and the same goes for your characters. I do not interact with characters who are minors. I strongly prefer to write with people who are over twenty-five. I’m in my thirties, so if you are too (or older!), that would be great!

I try to always tag for content that is likely triggering. I’ll use the tags example tw or example cw for those. I don’t anticipate there being a whole lot of that on my blog, but when it's there, I'll do my best to tag.

Activity: I am very slow. Very, very slow. But I generally don’t lose things, so please trust that I haven’t lost interest in our thread.

I respect Dead Dove Do Not Eat and will fight for people’s rights to write it. I will always tag with what applies, either NSFT (as in Not Safe for Tumblr) or DDDNE. I don’t necessarily write a lot of DDDNE, but I am willing to, and I will not judge you if that’s something you enjoy. I have some personal hard limits for it that I am willing to discuss if we start going down that path, and will gladly hear yours!

Don't try to bully or guilt-trip me into writing smut, please. I can and will write it. I'll write filthy, explicit smut (tagged and under a read-more). I'll write soft vanilla stuff. I'll write fade to black, whatever my RP partner prefers--I'll do my best to match your vibe. But if you mock me for the fact that I prefer to let smut happen organically? I'm out.

If you demand people tag any character from the fandom we're writing in, especially if it's because you want the mun to prove they know the character is bad, we are not a good fit. That's another form of virtue signaling and no matter how much I may otherwise like you, I'm firm on my limits for that.

And on a last note, aggressive virtue signaling doesn’t fly with me. If you need to post about how people are nasty for liking fictional, legal, not real content? You and I are not going to get along. It’s a short trip between the Purity Police and censorship/fascism mindsets imo, so I will avoid people who participate in that kind of culture like the plague.

#shut up dj ooc

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brights-place · 11 months ago

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Prologue¡! z★° ୭ ₊˙ ★﹗˚ ༘ 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐗 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫: Follow Y/N Quinezel in the borderlands and see what she's up to with her wife Quinzel 000. | next | masterlist

SUMMARY 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐀 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝟒 𝐒𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥; ~ 511 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

send an ask and i’ll add ya to the taglist! ~ ★ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ★

Her stare was bright and Joyful when looking around trying to spot a familiar red head. The H/C girls outfit was bright the colors Red and black split while the golden bells shined in the sunlight her boots with bells repeatedly clicking and jingling on the streets of Shibuya while a suitcase was in her tightening grip while dragging a hammer that was bloodied along with the girls white shirt with each step she took.

People stared at her thinking she was cosplaying for her job since there where lots of cosplay cafe's in the area and due to her looks fitting the super villian cafe down the road they thought you most likely worked there. The girl continued to hold a grin while looking around the place and stopping next to a women with red long hair and a mix of green and white pale skin her outfit made by all sorts of green plants the women cracked a grin when seeing the familiar girl with a white face pain and black mask wearing a jester hat that was the colors Red and Black just like Jester outfit waving at the girl "Y/N here" She said waving

Y/N rushed to the red head and hugging her tightly while shouting "Red~!" happily her cherry voice shouted through the crowd the group getting some stares and shrugged it off while Ivy replied back softly patting the jester girls head "Quinny" The jester girl giggled grabbing Ivy "Okay let's go back to our lovely new home my wonderful Wife!" Y/N said hopping and making grabby hands while Ivy decided to hold the briefcase so both of them can interlock hands properly.

Ivy hummed walking down "Soon to be wife Y/N" The girl giggled "You know I love you? and I'm happy we went to japan and are going to have our hunny moon here after our wedding and Ivy we don't need to be criminals anymore after settling down that is if we WANT to settle down" Ivy chuckled while Y/N continued to smile brightly seeing her fiancé laugh while continuing "No more Batsy no More Joker no more crime MAYBE! no more crime AFTER WERE MARRIED WE CAN CONTINUE!!! and We Rich" She said smiling Ivy hummed kissing the jester girls cheek while she blushed madly at the green skinned girl lovingly.

Heading to the crossing road Blurry, Blinding lights shoot through the sky as Y/Ns Vision was covered with the beautiful colors of the fireworks turning to Ivy they kissed at the scene happily and looking up again but Y/N soon also feels her conscious curve, and Bend around the rules of space and time itself engulfing her body while she collapsed to the floor losing sight of everything going around her but did see the sight of Ivy when collapsing at the same time.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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cherry-pop-elf · 10 months ago

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Art Comission’s Opened! Because Dear God My Health Forced Me To-! Yay!

Yeah, as stated above. My health has forced me to open art commissions, because it’s gotten very bad. It’s very taxing to go in and out of hospital all the time, and take a bunch of meds and vitamins. Along with repairs for my wheelchair and such so. Small introduction before I list

Hi. I am Belladonna. I have PTSD, Chronic Migraines, TBI, Chronic Anxiety, Fibromyalgia, Heart Palpitations, Wheelchair Bound, Bed Bound, all while going to college. Yeah. I’m kinda stressed. Heh. Money runs tight. Because I have plans for top surgery as well

Alright! Into the Art Commissions! Also Btw while you are here, I do Writing Commissions as well. If you vibe with that. In my Pinned! ((Because for some reason tumblr won’t let me link atm))

All through CashApp/Paypal/Kofi

$BellaDonnaBucks

FishyArtist/Paypal

CherryPopElf/Kofi

30min Sketches: Five/5 Dollars

Just something quick and fun. Simple and just for when you want something to waste five bucks on 😭 They can be full body, but expect that to reduce quality as I’ll need to factor that it as well

Full Body: Ten/10 Dollars

If you wish for an elaborate background/simple shading we can discuss more. But over all would be an extra 5 dollars. Same for adding people! It also just all depends! Don’t be scared to communicate with me! You are the one buying!

Fully Rendered: Twenty/20 Dollars

Fully rendering would be a even 20 bucks, and of course extra 5 for X Y Z

Scenes: Twenty Five-Thirty/25-30 Dollars

Colored line art will cost a extra five/5

It all depends on what scene you are going for of course. More complicated the higher the dolla dolla

What I Will Draw: ✅

Smut

Gore

Furry

Robots/Cyborg Esc

Drawing Refs

Just ask! Be warned. Gonna need to make sure you are a adult for the Sexy Stuff. And there WILL be a ‘tax’ for the weird shit. You want scat? Inflation? That ain’t cheap

What I Won’t Do: ❌

Under age NSFW ((duh))

NSFW of real people

I’ve been tryantzed by the internet. Idek if I have limits. But don’t be a weirdo or try and pretend you aren’t asking for kink stuff. Just be honest about it. And understand I have the right to refuse.

Important Things To Note About Me:

I am a disabled college student, so when you receive your art will varey. I WILL make sure to send in WIP’s though

I have a Pay Half Up Front Fee. I genuinely can’t exactly afford to be scammed. Don’t be that dick man.

I’m an open person. Don’t be shy. We gotta be very transparent. It’s YOUR money after all. And, not to be rude, but I can’t waste time with a shitty client. I’m in College. I got homework!

Any further questions, just hit me up! Also, I write as well!

And, well, I have a wish list. In my pinned, because tumblr being weird with links. I feel so greedy, but I figure I share anyway.

Please reblog! Thank you so much!

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doublejango · 10 months ago

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A mutuals-only RP blog for Blitz from Helluva Boss, written by a queer trans person with a zero tolerance policy for any form of homophobia, purity/morality policing, or misogyny. Please take a moment to check out my Rules, which you can find below the cut.

I also don't mind if you Like posts. Liking and reblogging is fine, just please don't repost.

I will always try to send in a password, but if I followed you without sending one? It's because I missed it, feel free to let me know; I don't mind going to look for it again.

About following… please don’t be angry if I don’t follow you back. I will try to follow most people back, but if it really doesn’t look like we will mesh, whether because our styles or our rules clash, then I will respectfully stay away.

Activity: I am very slow. Very, very slow. But I generally don’t lose things, so please trust that I haven’t lost interest in our thread.

If you have a lot of sideblogs, I probably won't follow them until we are writing on them <3 I struggle when I don't readily know who is who, and writing a thread is the best way for my goldfish brain to remember.

If you demand people tag any character from the Hellaverse, especially if it's because you want the mun to prove they know the character is bad, we are not a good fit. That's another form of virtue signaling and no matter how much I may otherwise like you, I'm firm on my limits for that.

#shut up dj ooc

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wild-karrde · 1 year ago

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FANDOM FRIDAY IS BACK! START SENDING YOUR FAVORITE FANDOM CREATIONS FROM THIS WEEK IN FOR ME TO QUEUE UP FOR FRIDAY!

This happens each week, so don’t feel like you’ve got to get out everything in one week. Just keep track of them throughout the week or send me an ask whenever you find something, and I’ll drop them all on Fridays (or throughout the weekend if I get a lot). You may submit for this week until THURSDAY MORNING (I’m in the Pacific timezone). Anything received after that will roll to the next week. A summary of the weeks’ recs will get added onto this post on Saturday, so check back here for all of the awesome fics and art! And be sure to go give the creations on that list some love (and don’t just share the ask responses I put out).

This week’s submissions will start posting on Friday, September 15.

Rules and additional details under the cut! PLEASE make sure you read the rules before sending something in. If your submission violates any of the rules, I will delete it.

Rules:

If your rec involves spoilers from a show that’s currently running, please include that info in the ask so I can tag it appropriately (I will normally tag a few different ways, but I always use #<show title> spoilers if you need to filter, for example: Andor spoilers will be tagged #Andor Spoilers). I will stop tagging spoilers two weeks after the show stops airing.

Self recommendations are allowed and encouraged! Shout out your own hard work! You deserve the recognition!

*Rules subject to change so PLEASE make sure you read them before sending something in. If your submission violates any of the rules, I will delete it.

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