#I’m not usually thirsty on main

[mikeyisbrooklyn]

I want to be him and be with him

are you a leftist? A commie? A tankie, perhaps?

They call me a tankie for this

[honey-pages]

Weaker - Viktor X Reader (Study Date Part 2)

This is part 2 to Study Date - as requested and crossposted to Ao3.

Description -

Viktor takes you to the lab, and then takes you in the lab.

1.8k words

Part 3

F/M. 18+. Smut. Pussy Eating, Sex , Dirty Talk, Semi-Public.

The colours of the books in the library seemed much more vivid as you moved to stand. You could not help but be both intimidated by Viktor and irresistibly drawn to him. The events of what just happened were written in blaring red pen across your thoughts and you wobbled a little as you stood up.

“Careful now, we cannot have you passing out before you even get to the lab” Viktor smiled, steadying you with his hand.

You returned the expression. Even looking at him, knowing what you had just been reduced to, was difficult. You felt as though your face was betraying your memories and that if you were to continue, soon the whole library would be alerted to the complete arousal you were drugged by. Almost as if some imaginary announcer would come over the loudspeaker and announce to everyone the slight noises Viktor’s hand made as he-

“(Y/N)? are you okay? You look a little pale; did I take things too far?” He whispered.

“No!” You reply, a little too quickly and sharply, “No, not at all. You have just made me so weak”.

“Weak in a good way?” He asks.

“Yes, definitely in the good way”, you clarify.

He appears happy with this, collecting his things into a bag, and placing the unnecessary extra books back on the return rack. Viktor is the only person you know who is both bold enough to finger you in the library, but also caring enough to double check with you afterwards that it was okay to finger you in the library. You chuckle to yourself. You would never have guessed he was so- out there. Or maybe you would, you had often fantasised about him doing similar things, but you would never have thought that they would leave the confines of your imagination.

The walk to the lab from the library was not too far. There was a passageway that fed between both, and this was the path Viktor took you down. You chatted as you walked. There was no awkwardness, he was as smooth as ever. Any visual signs of stiffness were hidden by his cool outward kindness and personality.

“I mentioned to you earlier about my project. Ill happily show you what I am working on if you are interested.” He suggested

“I’d love to see; it is some kind of robot if I am correct?” You reply.

“Me and Jayce are putting together some concepts to form a sort of robot - yes. Though there are a few other more… personal things, I’m working on.”

You wondered what this could be as you approached the lab. Passing through the large outer door, the lab was cold but intimate. To the centre was a large diamond like window, open fully, a thick breeze washing through. You had only visited this place in passing, bringing about notes and paperwork and strange little contraptions. It wasn’t a place that was widely accessible as it was usually kept just for Viktor and Jayce. It felt quite alien to be here, like you had walked into some mysterious world in which you were a little out of your depth.

“Water?” Viktor calls to you.

“Oh, yeah! Thank you!” You reply.

He fills you a glass from the water station labelled “DRINKING WATER- NOT COOLING FLUID.”

“We had an incident a while back” Viktor references the sign, “Jayce was a little chilly for a few days.”

You laugh, it was easy to imagine. Viktor props himself against the edge of the main table and hands you the glass, watching as you drink most of the water. You hadn't realised just how thirsty you felt.

“Better?” He suggests.

“Much”

“It’s a good idea to keep your fluids up, considering how much you lost earlier” He grins.

You suddenly cannot drink more water. You flush red, but play it off coolly, sitting on the edge of the table not far from him and placing down the glass.

“It’s also a good idea to keep your fluids up considering how much more you are about to lose.” He adds.

Viktor closes the gap between the two of you, standing in front of you between your knees. Even with you sat down, he stands face to face.

“Do you know how long I have wanted to do what I have done to you today?” He asks, “For months I have watched you. I have sat next to you, hard and aching, waiting for the right time, for when I felt right touching you. I need to taste you.”

Your stomach is in knots once more, the wetness from not too long ago is now feeling extra sensitive as you begin to pulsate. Him confessing his need for you fills you with unexpected courage. You place your hands on his back and pull him in gently, closer. You press your hips against his, the table height aligning them both. You angle your face upwards, and lightly plant a kiss against his lips. He accepts and deepens it, testing the waters with the tip of his tongue, enveloping you and drawing you in until both tongues are dancing and passionate.

His hands are wandering as you feel his weight against you, they find first the edge of you face as he holds it, then your hair, following down to your shoulders, round to your breasts. He applies pressure; hands of a scientist feeling and curiously undoing, testing and taking apart. He gropes at you harder, and you feel him, firm and straining against his clothes.

He begins to undo your shirt, slowly removing it and sliding it off your body, at the feel of you in a bra he breaks the kiss, looking down in admiration at you before him.

“Ah, Miss (Y/N), you’re perfect.”

You catch his eyes as they gaze back up at your face, you hold them there, not removing your stare as you reach forward for his zip.

He grins, a laugh escaping, “Oh no, I have waited too long to touch you to be hindered by my own cock.”

He pulls away rapidly, searching around the room. He finds his chair, pulling at it until the wheels oblige and it drags in between your knees. He sits down, head level with your hips.

“I am adamant Miss (Y/N) that I taste you.”

He places a flat hand against your chest, pushing you down gently until you lay flat on his desk. When in this position, you can see up and into the sky through the other looking large window.

“Viktor, the window is open” You feign complaint.

“You were quiet enough in the library, I am sure you can behave for me again.”

His hands raise your hips, sliding down your clothes and underwear, leaving you almost bare in front of him. Your legs are closed instinctively, and he reclines back in his chair enjoying his view.

“You are hiding from me, (Y/N). Spread your legs for me. I want to see all of you.”

You hesitate out of nervousness but widen them for him. You watch the clouds in anticipation. The chair creeks and the wheels squeak. Viktor slides the flat of his tongue directly up the centre of you, gathering up your earlier wetness and sweeping it over your clit. He wraps both arms around each for your thighs and holds you down tight as he demolishes you.

You cry out loudly at the surprise of it, but he doesn’t stop. In fact, he increases his speed and pressure, curling and flicking his tongue around your clit desperately. You grab onto wood of the table to keep yourself from shaking.

“Oh God, Viktor- “

If he replies, it is buried deep inside of you as he continues to work, his whole face wet.

“I have changed my mind. I don’t want you to behave for me. I want to hear you; I want to know what I do to you. Let Piltover know.”

“Viktor!’

He replaces his tongue with an addition of two of his fingers. He tests you carefully when inserting to ensure you slide open for him and he meets no resistance. He rhythmically pushes his fingers inside of you, working you up and then crashing his palm against your clit. He sometimes breaks rhythm to rub you with his open palm. He utilises the whole of his hand when his tongue is not busy.

“Viktor, I need you. “You cry out.

“I’m sorry, I can hear you over the sounds of my hands.”

Louder this time, you moan, “Viktor please, I want you to fuck me.”

The outside world is somehow quieter, but you are not very aware of your surroundings, a blurring realisation sweeps over you that you do not care. All you need is Viktor. Viktor is restraining himself from releasing his cock and taking you. He is twitching and sensitive and very aware of just how easy it would be to give into his urges and fuck you into the table. He wants to focus on your pleasure. He adds another finger. Your moans are too much for him, you are too much for him. You weaken him and suddenly he is inappropriately touching you in the library, you always make him come undone. He debates whether to give you what you want.

“Viktor, please- “

With his face buried, he undoes his belt, buttons and zip, freeing himself. You are unaware of this as your vision is still fixed on your view of the labs window.

“Please what?” He asks in amusement.

“Please- “

As you say the words, he pre-emptively enters you, catching the words in your throat. You shout out loudly. You may hear mutterings from the street below, but you aren’t sure. Viktor makes an ungodly noise as he enters you, almost falling over the edge himself. His hands are now fixed in fists on either side of your waist as he pounds into you against the table.

He feels the pressure building. He needed this, needed you. He fixates on the way you look underneath him, splayed out on his desk all for him. He watches the open window, the people walking by below. If they were to look up, they would see him. You grip him, the sides of you holding him tightly, pulling him in, contracting against his length.

Viktor is about to make you undone. With each thrust the feeling doubles and you feel tighter than previously as your body works up to its release. You try to warn him but the only sounds escaping you are unintelligible.

A sudden hard thrust sends you over and you cry out. “Viktor, I- Im- “.

Viktor knows. He has felt the clench of you around him and feels you grip him tighter than before, pulsating and spasming. This is enough and he can’t control himself. He pushes deep inside and fills you.

“(Y/N)- “

Words seem to have escaped the both of you. Breathless, panting and messy, you cling to each other.

Viktor stays inside you for a little while after as he begins to soften. Seeing you filled with him, so vulnerable and bare, it rewires an emotional response. Something in him changes and softens more for you than it already was. He holds you for a long time and does not let go.

[seaslugfanclub]

Kool-aid Isn’t the Only Thing I’m Thirsty For

Happy 4th of July everyone!

————————————————————————

“Y’know my great grandfather was stationed in France?”

“No shit? My nephew was deployed there.”

“Yeah— Cant remember for the life of me what division he was in, but he was sent back to the states after he blew off most of his fingers.”

“Yeesh.. Makes me mighty glad I missed out on all o’ that! hey- make sure to keep flippin’! These need to be grilled correctly.”

“Don’t tell a man how to use his own grill…”

Sykes, Rourke, and Alameda hovered over the grill, Sykes in charge of the burgers as he shot the shit with the old commander and cow wrangler, a half-smoked cigar hanging from each of their mouths and a chilled beer bottle in hand.

It had been a while since Sykes had celebrated the 4th, but he had subtly dominated the command of the grill. And Rourke was more than happy to piss away time, puffing on his cigar as he talked about old war battles with the two other men.

The sun beat down on the men, who had stationed themselves in the old lot behind the main studio building, both Rourke and Sykes had exchanged their usually stiff outfits for their old wife-beaters. While Alameda wore a simple plaid button up. An old radio played classic yacht rock, sitting atop a splintering picnic table. And a cooler filled with drinks was placed beside the grill, a few spare wasps hovering around the yellowed plastic of the cooler.

“(Y/N)!!!” Sykes hollered, Rourke and Alameda flinching at the noise,

“How're you doing with the Kool-aid!?”

(Y/n) opened the door to the backyard, calling back, “Almost done!!!”

Closing the door, (Y/n) turned towards Medusa, who was finishing mixing the disgustingly sweet drink, limp cigarette between her lips

“Hey, don’t get any cigarette ash in it!” They whined.

“Oh please, I won't! At least the ash would cut back the sugar.” Medusa muttered, sweeping back her dangling American flag earrings.

(Y/n) nodded, pulling on the hem of their denim shorts that stuck to their sweaty skin. “Cool, Imma bring out the ketchup and shit, Facilier, do you wanna join us?”

Facilier, who was draped on the counter across from Medusa, top hat off and slightly fanning himself shrugged,

“Eh, I’m not too big on burgers Chére. And I’m pretty sure drinking even a small glass of that red monstrosity will put me in an early grave.”

“You sure? I brought some illegal fireworks that we’ll be setting off later? You could do the honors of lighting them?”

Facilier paused his fanning, “…Illegal you say? What kind?”

“Oh I’ve got; Snakes, sparklers, firecrackers, M80, black cats, Roman candles, screamin’ Mimi’s, ladyfingers, fuzz buttles, snicker bombs, church burners, finger blasters, gut busters, crap flappers, whistling bungholes, spleen splitters, whisker biscuits, honkey lighters, hoosker do’s, hoosker don’ts, cherry bombs, nipsa daisers with scooter stick, and whistling kitty chasers.” (Y/n) listed off with their fingers.

…

“….Well, I could never pass up a good ol’ Roman candle… sure. Just let me know when you bring ‘em out.”

(Y/n) laughed, nodding excitedly as they carried out all the condiments, paper plates, and napkins to the backyard, Medusa bustling beside them with the large pitcher of iced Kool-aid.

“I haven’t had a proper July 4th cookout since I was a girl! I still remember my ol’ mother and father screaming over the undercooked hot dogs… Oh, back when this country had proper domestic violence~” Medusa cooed, a nostalgic smile making her eyes squint.

The park attendant gave Medusa the side eye, brows furrowed before shaking their head, (Y/n)’s attention quickly turned towards the large men outside.

They tried not to blatantly stare at how tight Sykes beater was stretched around his chest, or how all of the men’s chest and arm hair were slicked with sweat, OR how an old anchor tattoo made itself known on Rourkes back whenever he flexed, OR OR how good Alameda looked taking a long puff his cigar.

…

“…Meat's back on the menu tonight…” (Y/n) thought to themselves, hoping that the heat could excuse their flushed face.

To break out of there thoughts, (Y/n) shouted to the group,

“Alright! Who’s ready to party!?”

———————————————————————

“What in god's name are they doing?” Hook muttered, watching through the window in morbid fascination as (Y/n) fanatically cheered on Facilier, who had begun to laugh maniacally as he shot off three Roman candles at once.

“Oh it’s that silly American holiday, today. The one where they dress up is garish clothing and raise their cholesterol.” Cruella hisses, already feeling a headache coming on. “I tell you those Americans eat like they have free healthcare..”

“Ugh, a wretched holiday for a wretched country, the traitors..” Governor Ratcliffe sneered.

“Oh, now look at that—” Hook pointed out,

From the backyard, Rourke hands (Y/n) what seems to be a small, multicolored bazooka, a wicked grin on his face as he helps them light the rocket's fuse.

Rourke ruffled their hair, stepping back a few paces to join Sykes and Slim’s side, watching proudly as (Y/n) braces and aimed the rocket towards the sky, shooting a fiery ball high up into the night air, which promptly exploded into a burning flower of sparkles. The firework joking one of many across the dark sky.

“USA! USA! USA! USA!”

…

“…I bet 30 dollars one of them is losing a finger tonight.” Clayton speaks up amongst the crowd of villains watching from inside.

“Aye, make that 50.”

————————————————————————

Just wanted to write a little blurb celebrating the 4th of July! I realized just how little American villains the Disney cannon has, and I wanted an excuse to thirst over Rourke and Sykes in old wife- beaters grilling me a burger🤤.

(ALSO DISCLAIMER!! This was merely written for fun. I love America and I love the beautiful nature it has, but I don’t love the American government.

This was not written with any political intention, only thirst for old men and Kool—aid.)

[theresattrpgforthat]

Character Friction: On “Asshole Characters”, or Shitty Little Guys.

A while ago I floated a few thoughts I had about “asshole” characters in the Indy TTRPGs community. I floated these questions because I had been listening to this interview between Klaus von Hohenloe of The Dungeon Newb's Guide and The Panic Table. In particular, Klaus mentions that some games don’t allow for player friction, and in games where this is the case (cough D&D cough), it culminates in a horrible experience for all involved.

To illustrate, I’m going to talk about some experience I’ve had with my own play groups.

Art from Last Fleet, by Vicentius Matthew.

It might be shocking to hear, but I’ve played D&D once or twice. I remember being in a campaign with two players who wanted very different things from that game. Player A wanted to bring their character on a deep emotional journey, while Player B wanted to act as strategically as possible in pursuit of their character’s benefit, often to the detriment of other members of the party. My own character wanted to track down leads to a mystery that mattered to her, but not really to anyone else. This often led to frustrating moments where characters might not communicate as much information to the party as they might have otherwise, and in other cases one character’s actions could pull the entire party’s journey off-course.

The three of us all played together in a completely different game, three years later - Last Fleet. Let me tell you, the character interactions were completely flipped on their heads. Player A got a dramatic emotional arc around an NPC who was integral to the main plot. Player B got to pursue their own agenda, often in ways that worked against the efforts of other PCs. As the GM, I was given tools that actually encouraged both of these moments: both pushing Player A to wrestle with their relationship and implicating Player B as a suspicious person very early on.

A basic move from Last Fleet.

There are a number of reasons this worked in Last Fleet and not in D&D. One, Last Fleet playbooks often encourage players to keep secrets, work against the benefit of the crew, and fuck up their relationships with each-other. Two, Last Fleet has something called the Pressure mechanic. This is both a resource and a time bomb: you can mark Pressure to improve your chances of success, but hit your cap and your character has to do something to relieve their stress - and that choice is usually rather detrimental to the ship.

Finally, Last Fleet’s a different kind of story. You’re not playing heroic adventurers fighting monsters and clearing out dungeons. You’re playing the last desperate strains of humanity, fleeing an alien threat that has the power to infiltrate your fleet and resemble the ones you love most. Last Fleet is all about how a high-stress situation can lead people to making poor decisions, and, should you desire, it can also be about how people are sometimes forced to rely on each-other in order to get through a harrowing situation.

When I compare these situations, I don’t think we had bad players at the table: we just had the wrong kind of game for the story that the players wanted. I suppose I haven’t necessarily played enough D&D to say that it can’t allow for compelling, flawed characters - what I like to call “shitty little guys” - but I certainly don’t think it’s a play culture that accounts for the diversity of player goals.

More to the point, I find myself really drawn to playing flawed characters - both with them and for them. I love my over-perfectionist superhero in MASKS who lashes out when her friends don’t meet her standards. I adore my Thirsty Sword Lesbian who doesn’t know how to flirt or how to process emotions. I’m having so much fun watching play-testers pick up their various monsters in Protect the Child and demonstrate each character’s struggles when it comes to relating to a kid. I think it’s fascinating that in Changeling: the Lost 1e, a Fairest is rewarded with a discount when they use their Contracts of Reflection to spy on people that they love.

Contract of Reflections, Equinox Road Sourcebook, Changeling the Lost 1e.

I’ve personally seen the most leeway for character friction in PbtA games, like Apocalypse World, Urban Shadows, and Apocalypse Keys. When I brought up the question in the Community post, I asked folks for other examples of playing Shitty Little Guys. Their interpretations were really interesting, and far broader than my initial scope.

@nebmia mentioned that by giving your characters “unpleasant” abilities, it will incentivize them to use those abilities in unpleasant ways.

@goblincow has a lot of thoughts about creating little guys who aren’t just horrible, but are also in horrible situations - which gives license for the players to endanger their characters in the pursuit of mischief.

@airkseablade brought up Tenra Bansho Zero, and how it uses something called an “Emotion Matrix” to randomly determine how a player character might reaction to meeting a new person, as well as “Fates”, which are goals that each player is rewarded for playing towards, but mostly based on group consensus.

@willknightauthor talked about Wraith: (The Oblivion?), and how each archetype available to players has a part of themselves that pulls them towards darker choices.

It turns out that we really like playing characters who are mean-spirited, greedy, and struggling to get what they want, and we have a lot of different ways to make that happen. It reminds me of a common piece of advice given to writers when they’re writing a novel - you want a character who’s flawed, because those flaws can be used.

In games like Trilogy or TSL, you might want those flaws because you want to see your character overcome them. In games like Mothership or Cairn, you might want those flaws because then it makes it easier to push your guys through a meat-grinder. In games like Hillfolk or Apocalypse World, you might want those flaws because you want to see just how much well-meaning or desperate characters can fuck each-other up, given the right circumstances.

So what’s the point of all this? What am I trying to get out of this?

When I hear stories about horrible players, the experience I’ve had at my tables makes me want to approach these “trouble” players with a bit of grace. Perhaps these “trouble” players simply want something that is a challenge to provide in a game like D&D, but in Mothership, Urban Shadows, Apocalypse World etc., they might find their choices welcomed and encouraged. And if you've found yourself being accused of being a "trouble" player because you like to a cause drama, perhaps these games might be more up your alley than you think!

Consider playing a game with horrible guys who suck today!

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Separate Worlds, Chapter Three ⭑

Main masterlist

Pairing: Michael Gavey x Popular!rich!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni, mentions of alcohol, michael being a horny virgin, michael being desparate, reader being thirsty, mastrubation.

Summary: Living two completely separate lives you and Michael had never really crossed paths and you’ve never really looked at him before. But when your worlds collide, affections arise.

Word count: 1.2k

Saturday, 15th October 2006

You awoke with an awful headache, you didn’t think you had enough to drink to even get hungover but it had been a while since you last had any alcohol. Your mind flashed back to last night, the argument, running in your heels after Michael, breaking into the library, the dusty attic with the starry night sky, and- him of course. His breathtaking eyes, big nose, sharp jaw and chiselled chin. Your mind started to wander, his veiny arms and most importantly his veiny hands, thick fingers, broad shoulders and just his hair that looked so graspable- Christ. Get a grip. 

You got out of bed as the stinging headache and a wave of nausea hit you. A good shower would fix you, maybe today would be a self care day, just to energise for the week. But even in the shower your mind started to wander, and they got even worse- all you could think about was what his cock looked like, how his big hands would look grabbing your hips as you rode him. And with that image you finished. When you had gotten ready for the day, well at least dressed. You decided to get some food and coffee. 

Once in the main courtyard you ran into Farleigh, Maisie and Eloise. “Hey, you okay? You stormed out on your own birthday last night.” Maisie asked, a bit concerned. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just had too much to drink and it had gotten to my head. But I’m fine now. You guys want to grab some coffee with me?” They stopped questioning you at that and you all hit the nearest Starbucks. 

Sunday, October 16th 2006

You made your way to the library, heart pounding in your chest. All day yesterday you thought about him, after the shower you had to relieve yourself once more when you climbed into bed that night. You didn’t even need to study, but you hoped so badly he would be there. You entered the library with a beaming smile on your face, expecting to see him. He wasn’t there? What?

A sigh left your lips and you turned on your heel. No reason for coming here then. You decided to head to your friend's dorm instead. 

Monday, October 17th 2006

Finally! You felt like Monday couldn’t come fast enough, at last you were able to see him again. Even though it had only been two days since your last encounter, it felt like a week. You knew the second you saw him in class you would bring him the box of crunchies with your phone number and email taped onto it as well as a funny maths pun t-shirt you bought while getting coffee on Saturday. You used your calculator Saturday night and the bastard was right. So of course you had to reward him.

You didn’t even meet up with Eloise like usual before maths, instead you put on your cutest outfit, showered before and wore your strongest and nicest perfume. Surely this would grab his attention. But when you got there a message dinged on your phone. 

Eloise Sinclair: please don't kill me im fucking sick and i cant get out of bed :(((  8:56

(You): No worries, just rest ok? Want me to bring you something after maths?  8:57

Eloise Sinclair: no maisie just got here with supplies. thanks though xxx  8:57

(You): Ok I’ll visit later xx  8:57

Maybe it was the universe sending you signs because when you stepped in the lecture hall you spotted Michael, with empty seats next to him. You almost jogged down the stairs with a huge grin and dropped the box with crunchies, the t-shirt and the note on his tiny desk. He looked at you in surprise as you sat at the desk right next to him. Was he dreaming? “Morning, you were right. You are a genius. So here are the crunchies as promised and also a funny t-shirt I saw when I was out, made me think of you.” You smiled as you nudged the box towards him. 

Michael however was still stunned. Did his dream girl who was way out of his league dump her friends to sit next to him? Did she buy him his favourite treat? Did she think of him while she was out? And most important of all…she called him a genius. Fuck. He was actually hard right now, how pathetic. How does a guy get hard from just some gifts and a compliment? How did- “Helloooo? Earth to Michael?” You snapped him out of his thoughts. 

“I’m sorry, it’s pretty early- uhm- thank you I really appreciate it.” He smiled, and for the first time he smiled properly, showing off his cute teeth. And holy shit did that make you fall harder.  Luckily for him, you hadn’t noticed his boner, he swiftly moved the sweater that was hanging from his shoulders to his lap. You wanted to talk to him more and tell him you left your info in the box too but the professor was starting and somehow, sitting next to Michael Gavey made it so much less boring.

The lecture seemed to fly by and the end was near. After the professor made you do some practice assignments she spoke up. “Before next monday I have a little project that I want you to complete, this project will require you to partner up with someone. The project information itself will be handed out before you leave, you can now choose your partner.” The class immediately started to mingle and you turned to Michael. 

“So since you’re next to me anyway, want to partner up?” He looked unsure and turned more towards you. “Uhm, usually I prefer to work alone.” Oh. But when your face dropped he continued. “But I don’t think we really have a choice and I would rather work with you than anyone else here.” He rambled. That made you smile again, the professor handed out the information you needed and you agreed to meet up the following morning since you both had a free period at the same time. 

The second Michael got back to his dorm room he threw the sweater he held discreetly in front of him on his desk chair and quickly moved on his bed. His cock was straining in his pants and he never had needed relief this badly. Your perfume was still lingering in his nose, the way your tits were almost out with that top you wore, the skirt that showed off your silky smooth thighs. It was all too much. He quickly grabbed his laptop that was still on his bed and went to his saved porn, all girls that looked like you with guys that looked like him.

The video started to play and he opened his pants so he could finally relieve his aching cock. He almost came in record time as he released all over his veiny hand, cumming with a loud groan he had to muffle.

Tag list (also want to be tagged in chapters? message me): @sepherinaspoppies

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 8

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Entrusted with an undercover mission for Crown, Roger and I headed to a village in the countryside.

We were about to unveil the true identity of the Spirit God who claimed to hold great power when— 

Roger: Did you never learn to let people finish talking while you were in your mama’s womb? Sure, treatment for tetanus isn’t widely available. But if you don’t have it, then you make it.

Spirit God: You can’t possibly…

Roger: As a former doctor, I can.

Spirit God: A…doctor? Lies. You’re just saying that to take my place…

Roger: …Shut it.

Roger cut the man’s ranting with a sharp yell.

Spirit God: …

Roger: While you’re so busy ranting, this little girl’s gonna…die.

The anger in his eyes gave me chills.

(That murderous intent is…incredible)

(...Ah, I see now. Roger’s furious)

(I’ve never seen Roger’s emotions be…laid so bare)

Child’s mother: ……her. Please just save her…!

A powerful cry shook the air.

Holding her dying daughter in her arms, the woman looked at Roger with pleading eyes.

—The man called the Spirit God had his hands bound with rope, and the villagers kept watch over him.

We were given a room where we started working on refining a treatment for tetanus.

Liam: Roger, I brought the drugs you asked for from the storehouse!

Roger: Perfect, thanks. We gotta get the lil’ girl comfortable. Hurry.

Kate: On it!

Roger removed his vest and started looking over the medicine collected.

(There’s not much I can do, but I want to help in any way I can)

Kate: I’ll sterilize the test tubes. You can use carbolic acid, right?

Roger: …O_O

(Huh? Was I wrong about carbolic acid…?)

Kate: Um…Roger?

Roger: I thought you were getting up to something at night. Turns out you were studying medicine.

A large hand ruffled my hair.

Kate: …

I felt like Ale receiving pets.

Despite that…I felt my heart beat a little faster.

Roger: You’ve saved me the trouble. Thanks, Kate.

Kate: No…it’s just some knowledge I crammed in my head. You’re still going to have to guide me.

Roger: Then I’m gonna make you do a lot of work.

(Why am I so happy…to receive praise from Roger?)

Somehow, my heart was beating differently than usual.

(No, no. Knowledge is a part of strength. I was just happy that I got a little stronger)

(...but)

—After selecting some drugs and running tests, a tetanus treatment was refined.

Roger: Alright…now we just need to run clinical trials and then we can give it to people.

(Doing clinical trials means…)

Kate: You’re going to test it on healthy bodies to study the effects.

Roger: That’s right. This time it’s to see if it’s safe to take.

Liam: I’ll do it, Roger. I’m healthy, but if anything happens, it’ll just be to me.

Liam raised his hand first and Roger gave a wry smile.

Roger: Liam. You think I’d just let you give in to your “bad habits”?

Liam: Ah…

Curiosity—that was Liam’s curse.

Roger: Too bad for you. I’m feeling thirsty.

With that said, Roger took the bottle of medicine in one gulp.

Kate and Liam: Eh!

After being stunned by Roger’s bold move, I came back to my senses.

Kate: Roger, what are we going to do if something happens to you!

Roger: It’s fine. My body’s stronger.

(Is it really okay…?)

I was feeling both confidence and doubt toward Roger.

But the man himself…

Roger: We’re gonna have to wait a bit for it to take effect. I’m gonna take a nap. Kate, wake me up in an hour.

With that said, he crashed on a bed— 

Kate: Huh, Roger?

Within a few seconds, he started snoring.

Kate: He…fell asleep…?

I blinked at how fast he fell asleep and Liam laughed.

Liam: Hehe, you couldn’t kill him if you tried. I’m going to check on the villagers. Kate, I’m leaving Roger in your care.

The door closed, leaving Roger and me in the room.

When I sat on the edge of the bed, Roger’s hand fell from his chest onto my lap.

(He’s really asleep…)

His gloved hand was large and bony.

I gently touched his fingers which laid vulnerable on my lap.

(This hand’s killed before)

(And it’s kept many people alive) 

The way Roger’s living, it's like he holds life and death in his hands—a terrible contradiction.

There’s no way a man as smart as him didn’t see that.

He’s an egoist with a rifle as if carrying the sin of killing, claimed to be a former doctor, and lived in darkness.

(...Roger, what are you trying to do with Crown?)

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: What are you researching, Roger?

Roger: Cursed Ones—and how to rid the word of them.

~~ End flashback ~~

(Did he perhaps mean—)

I shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts.

(...No, let’s not jump to conclusions)

No matter how much I thought about it, I’d never reach the truth about Roger.

(At least, not with the way I am now…)

--

Roger woke up without any issues.

The tetanus drug was given to the infected girl and the villagers watched— 

The girl woke up just as the sun rose.

Roger: …Pulse is normal, no numbness in her limbs. Looks like the medicine did its job.

(Thank goodness…!)

Child’s mother: Thank you so much. You’re a god.

Roger: …Me, a god? Don’t make me laugh. I’m just an ordinary human as you can see. If I were a god, I would’ve rid the world of all its absurdities.

(...Roger?)

Cold eyes betrayed the warmth in his words.

But then  it disappeared in an instant.

In its place was a cynical smile.

Roger: Humans can’t become gods, no matter how hard they try. That’ what makes them so interesting.

Spirit God: …Argh, shut up!

A yell interrupted the peace in the room and we all turned toward the source.

Kate: Huh, Spirit God?! I thought he was captured and kept under watch…

The sudden appearance of the Spirit God confused the villagers.

Man of the village: When did you get free?! Everyone, run.

The Spirit God, who seemed to have escaped on his own, had an ominous smile on his face as the room fell into chaos…

(He’s coming this way…)

I tried to run, but he jumped at me from behind.

Kate: Eek…!

Roger: Kate.

Roger, who was standing by the girl, tried to reach for me, but it was too late. I was captured by the Spirit God.

Liam: Kate…

Roger: …

Spirit God: If you don’t want this woman to be killed, forget everything you saw in this village! That way, I can live as a god again.

(What a mess…Still, he’s surprisingly strong.)

(...What do I do)

His arms wrapped around my neck, cutting off air.

In my desperation, I looked up and met Roger’s gaze.

Roger: …

While everyone else turned pale, Roger was the only one smiling.

(...Huh? Why are you smiling…at a time like this?)

“You’ll get stronger, right”—the amber color happily threw at me.

(T-this guy…!)

(But…)

It’s better to be amusement than to be looked down on for being useless.

(Calm down…and remember what you learned about self-defense from Roger)

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: Step two, what to do when someone holds you.

Kate: Hey, wait. What should I do?

Roger: Hey, I told you that trying to force your way out’s gonna make it worse.

First, go limp, like a puppet that just got its strings cut.

~~ End flashback ~~

I calmed my mind and released all tension from my body as I exhaled.

Spirit God: …What the, you got heavy all of a sudden.

(Now.)

While the Spirit God was confused, I pushed his arms up from below.

Roger: Well done, Kate. Now keep leaning forward.

The moment I escaped the Spirit God’s hold, Roger took over.

Kate: …!

A powerful jab in the jaw knocked the Spirit God unconscious.

(His eyes rolled back. He’s completely out…)

Kate: A one-hit K.O…What’s with that brute strength?

Roger: I didn’t tell you? I’m a heavyweight boxing champ.

Wow…

Really?

You’re one heck of a guy +4 +4

Kate: Hmm… Wait! You’re just casually mentioning that you’re a heavyweight boxing champ?!

Roger: Haha, amazing, aren’t I?

(He’s not joking. He really is one heck of a guy…)

I would’ve loved to spend an hour or so asking him about boxing, but I had something else on my mind.

Kate: He’s not dead is he…?

I checked the Spirit God for a pulse.

Kate: Ah, he’s breathing…

Liam: He’s breathing, but won’t wake up for a while. Well, it’s for the best.

(He’s not dead, which is good for now…)

No matter how evil a person was, seeing them die before your eyes left a bad taste in your mouth.

Blonde child: …Mr. Glasses.

The girl seemed well enough to get out of bed and approached Roger.

Roger: Hm, what is it? Does it hurt anywhere?)

Blonde child: No. Um…Thank you…For making the pain go away. And…thank you miss and Mr. Pink…

Kate: I’m glad you’re feeling better.

Liam: Mr. Pink. How cute.

Roger: You’re welcome. This is the best reward I’ve gotten.

--

After waking up, the Spirit God admitted to all his crimes and was sent to the police.

Victor arrived later and told us that the village, which had closed itself to the public, would now open up with financial support from Her Majesty.

As for me—

After parting ways with Victor, who stayed to clean up the mess, and Liam, who volunteered to accompany him, Roger and I boarded the train back to London.

From outside the window, twilight dyed the sky.

Roger: Pfft, haha.

Roger, who sat across from me, suddenly burst into laughter.

Roger: The look on that guy’s face when you slipped out of his arms was a masterpiece.

(Thinking about it…)

A smile formed on my lips as I recalled the Spirit God’s dumbfounded expression.

Kate: Heh, hehe… Wait, why am I laughing. I thought I was about to die.

I glared at Roger, but he just smiled and propped himself up against the windowsill. 

Roger: Sorry, sorry. But the way you handled self-defense techniques honestly had me impressed. Not to mention you secretly studying medicine. So Kate, close your eyes.

Kate: …Don’t do anything weird, okay?

I closed my eyes after that warning.

…Then, I felt fingers touching my neck.

(Lace? It feels like a thin tie…but it’s nice to the touch)

Roger: You can open your eyes now.

Kate: …

I slowly opened my eyes.

Roger: …

Through the reflection of his amber eyes, I saw myself wearing a lovely choker.

Kate: This is…

Roger: A collar of course. You’ve now been promoted from dogsbody to pet. Congrats.

Next

[bloodlessbelmounte]

Eternity Will Bring You Near - Chapter 4

Masterlist

Summary:

Wade understood that Logan was from a world where Alpha, Beta and Omega were everyday terms, not exclusive to red-pilled incel fuckheads who kept inventing new performative male genders. Wade would’ve been classified as a Beta. Logan, however, was an Alpha - Wade’s read enough fanfiction and yaoi manga to know what that means. Though it doesn’t explain why Logan keeps sniffing him.

Pairing: Alpha!Worst Wolverine/Deadpool Genre: A/B/O, Smut, Domestic-ish Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Blood, Lots of Logan Biting, Anal Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Anal Fingering

Beginning Note: I have been afflicted by the AO3 curse yet again. Illness (I literally threw up after making the most progress on this chapter), Migraines (Another week long bitch), Injuries (Woo I had a trip to minor injuries). I was going to have chapter 4 be longer to make up for the delay but I sincerely believe that it is cursed and thus to lift that curse I must get it out into the world as quick as possible. So I've essentially split my plan for chapter 4 in half and that remaining second half will be released as chapter 5. Unbeta'd as usual so sorry for any mistakes.

Cross posted to AO3

We’re back again baby! Another chapter for you thirsty hoes. Hopefully in this chapter I’ll finally be screaming into a pillow in pleasure instead of you screaming into one in embarrassment, Belmounte.

Hey, writing that JillxCarlos after a year of not writing smut and SOBER was difficult okay.

Well I’m glad you don’t have to get wasted to write about me getting dicked down. Though I don’t forgive how you ended the previous chapter. And between then and now, September Seventeenth, you did no writing. Bitch your enby ass went to a carnival.

I shot down nine out of ten targets and got three prizes for my efforts. One of the carnies was even surprised by my speed. I got called a cross between you and the Hulk. Very proud of myself.

Bet you are. High praise to get compared to yours truly. Did you guys know that excellent marksmanship is listed as one of my superpowers? And I’m able to lift eight-hundred pounds canonically.

Anyways, let’s not leave the readers waiting any longer.

The main area of the cabin was wrecked, gouges clawed into the walls, floors, bed frame and mattress; smatterings of blood and cum splattered and smeared across various surfaces – even the ceiling; the couch was tipped backwards, the TV smashed on the floor and the coffee table shattered. Not even the kitchen was unscathed with cupboard doors hanging off their hinges, crockery in pieces and the sink filled with dirty plates. On the last days of Logan’s rut things had settled down a bit, the breaks between fucking getting longer but don’t get it twisted, the sex was intense as ever. It also meant that Logan was verbal again, no longer reduced to grunts (hot as that was for Wade) as his instincts were being satiated.

Logan had Wade in a mating press – his knees pinned down by his ears on the shredded mattress, bent in half as Logan straddled his ass – balls deep. Wade was cock drunk, words tumbling out of his mouth unfiltered while Logan’s cock rearranged his guts.

“Fuck Lo- so fucking deep,” the merc babbled between panting moans, clawing at the Alpha’s shoulders, “feels so good. Love your cock. Love you.”

Ah. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. That was an inside thought. They hadn’t broached the whole feelings thing since the ‘We Saved The Multiverse’ party months ago. Logan stilled above him, eyes wide and clear of the Rut’s haze, and Wade tensed in response. Shit shit shit shit shit!

“Say… say again, Bubba?” Logan murmured, staring into Wade’s fucking soul.

Wade gulped, looking away from the man above him, “L-love your cock?”

Logan frowned and grasped Wade’s chin forcing him to make eye contact – voice firm, “Not that, Wade. Say. It. Again. Y’know what I want to hear.”

Wade took a deep shuddering breathe, “L-love you.” He squeaked.

Logan gave him a wolfish grin, fangs peaking out as he purred, “Love y’too, mate.”

Oh.

Oh. Wade had read enough Omegaverse to know exactly how significant that last word was. He may or may not have blown his load then and there.

When the Rut had ended, the older mutant had insisted on cleaning up their bodily fluids and dishes during the early hours of the morning. Wade complained the entire time, turned out the TVA owned the cabin. So why in the ever loving fuck did they have to tidy? He was greeted to the rare sight of red dusting Logan’s cheeks as he grumbled about it being bad enough he had wrecked the walls, floors and furniture with his claws, they didn’t need to subject the poor clean up crew to their cum. Which, by the way if you didn’t know, smells bleach? Something Wade came to realise after hours of scrubbing. Luckily the time cleaning gave his Switch enough time to charge for the journey home. Also seeing Logan bent over on his knees in those tight jeans made Wade internally pray to whatever God is listening for a chance at fucking that ass. Sadly, he had that annoying eight hour drive instead.

Mary Puppins yipped and jumped up at Wade’s legs as he and Logan stepped through the door in the evening. Take-out boxes littered several surfaces, and plates and pots were left in the sink. Seemed like the girls hadn’t been too keen on keeping the place tidy in their absence, even with Vanessa’s check ins. Wade picked up Mary who eagerly lapped at his face in greeting as Logan scowled. He immediately set to scooping up the trash to grumpily shove it in the trash can before shrugging off his jacket, rolling up his shirt sleeves and setting to work on the washing up.

“Girlies! We’re home~!” Wade sang.

Blind Al shuffled out of her bedroom, parking herself on her recliner, “’bout damn time you motherfuckers got back. Vanessa just dropped off the rat. Laura’s out. Went for her classes a couple hours ago. Girl can’t do chores to save her life. Felt one bit of wet food while washing the dishes and she completely abandoned them.”

Wade sat on the couch, “See Angel Baby, I told you we need to get the both of you tested for autism.”

Logan only grunted in response as he tried to scrub off a particularly dried-on bit of sauce.

“Yes, yes I know. Pot calling the kettle black because undiagnosed ADHD. The difference here is that they’d try to medicate me which we both know won’t work because I’d metabolise a week’s worth in twenty minutes, so what’s the point?”

“So did you fuckers finally elope? Didn’t exactly explain why you disappeared for a week.” Al asked, feeling around for the remote.

“Oh my dear Althea, to elope we’d have to know we’re in love first. We just had a week long fuckfest and professed our undying love to each other while deep in the throes of passion. No, our elopement will be in a couple weeks time I’m sure.”

Al made a disgusted noise, “Every time you open your mouth, I wonder why I moved in with you.”

Logan dried off his hands and joined Wade on the sofa, arm slung around the merc while petting Mary’s tuft of fur, “Because without us, y’would have to spend y’social security checks on rent instead of gamblin’.”

Wade gasped dramatically, “Took the words right out of my mouth, Honey Badger!” He placed a wet kiss on Logan’s cheek.

Al finally found the remote and flicked on the TV, the beginnings of a Columbo episode appearing on the screen. The three settled in with Wade providing descriptions for Al. All the while the idea of eloping was floating round his head. Logan had already called him mate, surely proposing wouldn’t be that big of a leap. Sure they’d only been together for a few months but what’s that in the face of forever? Fuck it. About an hour later Laura arrived home, slinging her backpack onto the floor and slumping onto the couch beside Logan. Her head came to rest on his shoulder as she sighed in what Wade assumed was contentment.

“How was school, kid?” the elder mutant queried.

“Boring, a lot of things the classes are covering are things I was already taught at the lab. And I’m surrounded by people mostly a decade older than me.” Laura stated with a shrug, “No offence Papi, but I’m not going to ask how Canada was. I feel like I wouldn’t want to know what you and Wade got up to.”

Logan grunted his affirmation and took a swig of Dr Pepper. Where did that come from? He didn’t have that when he joined him on the couch. Did he grab it while Wade was distracted with thoughts of marriage? Again Wade wonders how someone who weighs four to five hundred pounds can be so stealthy.

“Anyone here have the energy to cook? Cause MJ knows I don’t after that car journey.” Wade asked, stealing some of Logan’s drink.

Al looked in Wade’s general direction, the old bat’s echolocation malfunctioning as always, “Michael Jackson?”

“Marvel Jesus you uncultured cretin.”

Logan breathed a long suffering sigh and stood up, passing his drink to Wade and making his way to the kitchen, “Come on kid. ‘Bout time I teach y’some basics.”

“Maybe you could show her how to bake a birthday cake as it’s October Twenty-Eighth as Belmounte is writing this line of dialogue,” Wade suggested off-handedly then turned towards a camera only he could see, “Which means it’s their Twenty-Eighth birthday today. They’ve been very slow in writing this chapter. They started it in early September.”

Logan flipped him off but mostly ignored the merc and pulled out shelf stable ingredients for spaghetti bolognaise. Laura, who had by now gotten used to Wade’s rambling, huffed a laugh. So much like her father.

“Maybe you should encourage them to do a time skip and get a move on then,” She responded before hopping off the sofa to help her Papi.

That night Wade struggled to get to sleep despite being wrapped in hunky tree trunk arms. Sure there were nights were he woke up to the wrong kind of penetration when Logan inevitably had one of his night terrors, but what’s the point of having a healing factor if he can’t stubbornly cuddle the traumatised bastard through it. This was not one of those nights, apparently being a non-stop fuck machine for a week with little sleep lead to sleeping like the dead when it’s over. No what was keeping Wade awake, despite his own personal weighted blanket, were the thoughts of being Mr Wade Winston Wilson-Howlett circling round his brain like a chunky vegetable soup down a drain. Shit he liked the sound off that far too much. Fuck it. He was going to do it. Wade was going to propose to the old timer. Hopefully there’d be no fatal diagnosis to ruin the occasion this time. And shit he’d need something other than a sentimental Voltron ring. Logan was a tad too serious and classy for that.

Wade carefully lifted Logan’s arm off his waist and slipped out of bed, if he was going to do this properly, he’s going to need the other’s ring size. He tiptoed out of their bedroom and down into the spare bedroom – which he had turned into an armoury and costume repair centre. He rifled through the drawers of his desk and pulled out his snail shaped tape measure and a pen then crept back to Logan. After a brief moment of reminding himself which hand was left and which was right, Wade gently wrapped the tape measure around the sleeping man’s ring finger. He jotted the measurement onto the back of his hand then deposited the items in his bedside drawer and crawled back into bed, snuggling back into Logan’s warmth. With his resolve made, the scent of pine trees, cigars, sandalwood and musk which had steadily been growing stronger finally sent him off to sleep.

Come morning, Wade was awoken to Logan placing a kiss on his forehead. He was already dressed in his grease monkey uniform with his backpack slung over a shoulder. God he loved how considerate Logan was, some people would wake up their partners when they woke but no Logan let him lay in, only waking him when he was ready to head out. Wade mumbled his greetings and well wishes, staying awake just long enough to hear Logan return them before promptly falling back asleep as Logan shut the bedroom door behind him. When Wade did actually wake, it was roughly in the afternoon. He stretched out, joints popping and clicking, then rolled out of bed padding barefoot into the kitchen. He scratched at his naked chest, nails catching on the valleys and ridges of his scarring. Laura stood over the stove and flipped the grilled cheese she was making.

“Mornin’ morra. That’s Spanish for ‘kiddo’. Apparently out of all the languages our Wolvie boy can speak, Spanish is not one of them for movie plot convenience.” Wade grabbed himself a bowl and poured in a mix of Lucky Charms and Unicorn Fruit Loops. He wanted to have a theme for the start of his day if his Pinky Pie lounge pants were anything to go by. He added the milk then sat down at their dining table. Look not every meal is had in front of the TV. And it’s useful for board games night.

“Buenas Wade. Any plans for today?” Laura greeted, checking the underside of her sandwich to see if was to her liking.

Wade swallowed his mouthful, “Actually yes, I do and I’ll need your help.”

Laura grunted in satisfaction and transferred her grilled cheese onto a nearby plate, “Who’s the target?”

“Your Papi, I’m going shopping and need your opinion on an engagement ring,” Wade said simply with a shrug.

The ketchup Laura had been artistically serpentining over her sandwich suddenly jetted onto the counter top in an eruption.

“¿Qué? ¿Compromiso? ¿Le propusiste matrimonio a papá en Canadá? ¿O papá te propuso a ti?” Laura took a breath and wiped up the mess with a sponge, “Is that why you went to Canada for a week? Some sort of romantic get away.” Once the counter was clean she joined him at the table.

“Not quite. More like because your Papi is from another universe he has certain biological impulses that he doesn’t want you to be witness to. And while we were away he said a certain word that in his universe pretty much meant he sees me as his life partner. The Brits in the Omegaverse must have it tough cause its a way to address even a complete stranger in slang. How are they supposed to know when their partner is being serious?” Laura stared at him blankly, “Ah, I’ve been side tracked. Whoops. Circling back, I figured, why not y’know? Now seems like a pretty good time to shoot my shot and I rarely miss Mini Wolvie.”

Laura took a bite of her grilled cheese and hummed happily, “And you need my help to choose a ring?”

“Thought it’d a good bonding experience as future step-father and daughter.”

“No pawn shops.”

Wade held up three fingers to his temple, “Scouts honour.”

About two hours later, after Wade got ready to go out in the baggiest hoodie he could find, they found themselves in a small family owned jewellers after nearly every other one turned them away. Seemed like this was the only place willing to work with the adamantium ore Wade had stolen from the TVA when no one was looking. See, the ring had to be adamantium otherwise Logan’s kitty claws would slice through it like a hot knife through butter. But this little independent business agreed with no questions asked as long as Wade was willing to part with a small chunk of cash on top of the asking price for a custom design. A design Laura helped him to settle on, as well as a design for himself. Sadly, with them being custom designs, the proposal would have to wait until the rings were completed. For Laura’s silence until the deed was done, Wade bought her some gelato. As many scoops and flavours as her heart desired. And perhaps he had promised her that she could accompany him on the odd job here and there if she was feeling particularly cooped up or angry.

In the meantime, Wade officially returned to mercenary work. Sister Margret’s was now owned by Buck after Weasel had finally pissed off someone with enough criminal connections to make him leave the country. So Wade would mosey on down to the bar and collect his little gold card with the necessary intel on his target then dispatched of them and any goons. But only if the target was subject to his new moral standards. After all, what would Spiderman do? Kill the unredeemable fucks as long as they weren’t his friend. Seriously, Harry gets Gwen killed and Peter let him live but he kills the Electro for trying to syphon New York��s power supply, how was that fair? All of that and the kid wasn’t even getting paid; unlike Deadpool who was getting enough from each hit to only need to take up a mission about once or twice a week. Which was a good thing because most criminal activity started in the evening when Logan would get home from work, meaning on work nights Wade would not have seen his man for the whole day. That makes for a cranky much more violent and efficient Deadpool who just wanted to get home.

Wade had completed two assignments by the time he got the call to collect the rings. It was a Saturday. Perfect. Logan was at work so he could step out and grab them without worry then Logan had the following day off. Also meant Laura didn’t have classes. Wade threw on one of the iconic flannel shirts owned by his beloved, the lingering scent making his shoulders relax as the tension he hadn’t realised he’d been holding seeped from them. Lately being away from Logan put him on edge. With a quick “See ya” to Al and Laura, Wade clipped Mary’s leash to her collar and caught the subway to a stop that was just a short walk away from his jeweller. Yes, they’re his now because the rings they handed over to him were exactly what he asked for. And fuck it he was going to pull out all the stops for this non-public proposal. Public proposals are a type of manipulation tactic, that is a hill he is very willing to die on. One he nearly did die on with the cancer pre-mutation actually. A quick Google Maps search showed him where the nearest wine merchant was which he made his next stop whilst he was out.

By the time he returned to their apartment, he had a sleeping Mary Puppins under one arm and a bag of various bits and bobs under the other. The items included Cava de Paraje Calificado – also known as the superior Spanish take on Champagne, confetti for Laura and Al to throw, candles and candelabras and the things he needed to put together a very fancy charcuterie board. Setting Mary down in her bed, he unclipped her leash and put the bag on the counter. Wade strode into his room to grab the sound proofing device and handed it to Laura.

“I have about an hour to get everything prepared before Peanut gets home. Take this and go into Al’s room. If he says yes, I’ll text you the all clear and you gals come out with the confetti. If he says no… I’ll uh… take him on a walk or something and text you,” Wade explained, showing her where the power button was on the little machine.

Laura nodded her affirmative, expression serious like she had been given a critical mission – she had lightened up quite a bit now that she wasn’t in constant peril. Al, who had overheard the conversation, started to get up off the couch and gratefully accepted the younger woman’s help to stand.

“How about we continue watching Gilmore Girls? We won’t have those fuckers cynical commentary over it,” Al suggested, patting Laura’s arm affectionately.

Wade pouted, “My critique of Lorelai’s relationships and the example she sets for Rory is valid!”

Laura ignored him.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Wade huffed and got to work on making the living room a cosy den of romance because who the fuck enjoys their spread of meats and cheeses at a fucking dining table? Fucking no one that’s who. He fluffed the throw pillows, fixed the blankets and set out a delicate tablecloth he had picked when buying furniture for their shared home. He inserted his candles into the candelabras and strategically dotted them around the space, only to be lit when there was five minutes before Logan got home. The merc quickly popped into their bedroom to make sure he was ready for any explicit celebration they would surely have in private. Wade then headed into the kitchen and prepared the meats and cheeses. By the time he placed the artfully spread board in the centre of the coffee table, he had just enough time to light the candles and turn of the lights.

Wade stood by the couch, looking towards the front door, and wiped his hands on his thighs. Him, nervous? More likely then you’d have thought. The sound of jingling keys sliding into the lock made his heart skip a beat. This was it. The moment that will determine the path of their relationship. He doubted the rejection would break them, he knew Logan wouldn’t let that be a possibility. But that didn’t stop the queasy roiling in his stomach as the door opened to show a freshly showered Logan – he always showered at work after Wade chewed him out for tracking engine oil into the carpet, it was a bitch to get out. Logan shut the door behind him without turning, his head cocked to the side, brows furrowing in confusion.

“What’s all this, Darlin’? Y’bein’ sent off to take out a politician or somethin’?” Logan half joked, hand cuntily on his hip.

Wade gulped and reached into his pocket before dropping onto one knee. He opened the ring box revealing a total of four round rubies and black sapphires set flush into an adamantium band. Simple in design really but one he knew the older mutant would appreciate. Logan’s jaw fell slack, eyes wide in surprise.

“Logan, I know in the grand scheme of things we’ve only been together for what, five months?” Wade’s voice shook as he spoke, “But these five months have been the best part in my life for the last six years. And I want this for as long as I live. Which as we both know will be forever. In Canada you called me ‘mate’ so I’m pretty sure you want the same thing to. Now sadly, you can’t bite me on the neck and claim me in a bond as you would in your original universe, but in this one we have this little legally binding ceremony called a marriage,” Wade took a deep breathe, “James Logan Howlett, will you marry me?”

Logan closed the distance between them in a few long strides, joining Wade on the floor and cupped his face between his hands, “I know what a marriage is dumbass.” He stated bringing Wade into a scorching kiss that the merc reluctantly pulled away from as Logan chased his lips.

“So is that a ye-”

“Of course it’s a fuckin’ yes.”

Wade squealed in glee and took Logan’s left hand to slide the ring onto his finger. Logan was about to pull him into another kiss but Wade stopped him which made the older mutant growl in protest.

“Hold on, Peanut. There’s one for me too.” Wade fished the other ring box from his back pocket and gave it to Logan, “I’ll let you do the honours.”

Logan opened the box, fingers gently running over its contents. Nestled in red satin was another adamantium band but instead of rubies and black sapphires, it was inlayed with yellow and blue sapphires. He gingerly plucked the ring from it’s cushion as if he was afraid he’d somehow break it and gave it a closer inspection.

“Aren’t they gorgeous? The gems are lab grown, just like us. Did you know rubies and sapphires are made of corundum, just different trace elements resulting in different colour presentation? Oh the tumblr girlies could write paragraphs about the symbolism of these rings.” Wade babbled, needing to fill the silence.

Logan grasped Wade’s hand and slipped the ring onto his finger with a satisfied purr, “Can’t believe you beat me to it, Red.”

He went to pull Wade into a kiss and yet again Wade stopped him, “Wait, wait, wait. Hold your horses, Angel Baby. One, I’d like to share the good news. Two, I have spent the past hour setting up a nice romantic space for us to relax and enjoy. I just know that if you start tongue fucking me now all my efforts will go to waste and our apartment will burn down around us whilst your balls deep.”

That got a laugh from the older man. Logan placed a kiss on his temple and pulled him up to stand with him. Wade quickly shot a message off to Laura.

[💍🎊🎉]

The door to Al’s room was thrown open milliseconds later, Laura barrelling out of the room to tackle the pair into a hug before releasing them and throwing handfuls of confetti over them.

“Congrats, Papi! You better treat each other right.”

Al was slower as she waddled out, using her cane to locate were the trio were huddled. She threw up her confetti and to her credit, most of it went in the correct direction.

“No fucking on the couch you freaks. I don’t care if you are engaged now, that’s still a no cum zone.”

She was met with three different responses:

“Of course not Althea, we’re not animals.”

“¡Ew! ¡No necesitaba esa imagen mental!”

“Oh come on! Can’t we get a pass just this once?”

Three guesses as to who said what.

Wade handed Laura a wad of cash, “How about you, Al and Mary go on a girls night for a couple hours? Papi and I need alone time now.”

Laura made a disgusted noise but nonetheless retrieved Mary, her carrying bag and leash. Al looped her arm through Laura’s free one and shuffled out with her, suggesting they go to her regular bingo hall. Wade had a suspicion Al had a dealer there she was hitting up in secret. She hadn’t shown as many withdrawal symptoms lately. As the door shut behind them, Wade led Logan to sit on the couch and popped the cork on the Cava with baby knife. The cork went flying off and hit the ceiling then ricocheted to God knows where. They’d probably find it cleaning at some point during the week.

“I know we’re trying to be sober at the moment, Peanut, but this is a special occasion so I think we can make an exception for today.” Wade declared, pouring it into the flute glasses he had set out.

He handed the first one to Logan and clinked his against it in a toast as he sat beside him, squirming slightly. Wade grabbed a slice of Stilton and dipped it into one of the chutneys he had bought and popped it into his mouth.

“Oh that fucks,” he moaned and grabbed another piece, dipping it and offering it to his fiance.

Logan leaned forward and took the offering between his lips, teeth grazing over Wade’s fingers, eyes dark even in the candle light. He let out an appreciative hum and Wade’s breathe caught in his throat. Oh, his romantic efforts were going to be wasted weren’t they? Maybe he should’ve waited till after the romantic meal to propose. Wade gulped and reached for a piece of thinly sliced pancetta that had been rolled into a rose shape, only to have his hand playfully slapped away. The rose shaped meat was pressed to his lips, Logan’s eyes trained on them as he opened up to receive the offering. They continued like that, hand feeding each other, until the board was cleared. Their attentions now turned to their forgotten flutes of Cava. Wade couldn’t tell you how it tasted, entirely too distracted by the man beside him that he drained his glass in seconds. That got a chuckle from Logan who had been happily taking his time until his flute also ran empty.

Wade jumped in surprise when Logan stood up with a muttered “I’ll be right back.”

He watched as Logan made his way into their bedroom, heard him open drawers and shuffle things about before shutting them and returning. Logan carefully picked up the candelabra – which had been placed in the centre of the coffee table – and set it aside on a corner table. He took the now empty board into the kitchen and set the bottle of Cava on the floor beside the coffee table. To say Wade was baffled would be an understatement. What on earth was he doing? Cleaning? No if that was the case he wouldn’t put the bottle on the floor. Wade yelped then laughed as Logan lifted him off the couch, span him round then set him down on the coffee table.

“Why the change in seating, Honey Badger?” Wade giggled as he looked up at the other mutant.

Logan shrugged off his shirt, leaving him in his classic white under-shirt and jeans. His tags glistened in the flickering candle light, capturing Wade’s attention as Logan pulled them over his head and retrieved another pair out of his pocket. Wade’s throat went dry. He knew exactly whose those were.

“I found these in y’sock drawer when we were unpackin’. I don’t expect every vet to wear theirs with pride but y’could at least store them somewhere dignified.” He said, dangling Wade’s tags in front of him.

Wade shrugged and tried to keep his voice steady, feigning nonchalance, “Dishonourable discharge from the Special Forces. Not exactly my proudest moment.”

“I was quite glad to have found them. Meant I could do this.” Logan slipped his tags over Wade’s head, making the merc shiver when the cold steel slipped under the flannel collar and met his bare skin. He grasped Wade’s palm and placed his tags in his open palm. “Now y’do the same to me.” Logan leant forward and Wade did as instructed, giving him a peck on the lips as he did so. “This was how I wanted to claim y’, when the time was right. But y’just steam rolled ahead as y’always do.” His lips quirked into a smile that Wade could only describe as fond, no bite behind his words.

“If this is all you wanted to do, why did you sit me here? Could’ve stayed nice and comfy on the couch,” Wade asked, wrapping his arms around Logan’s shoulders.

Logan gave him that fucking wolfish grin, the one that caused his little fangs to glint in the flicking glow of the surrounding candles, “I believe we were forbade from fuckin’ on the couch. Althea said nothin’ about the coffee table bein’ a ‘no cum zone’, Princess.”

Wade moaned, his hands eagerly tugging Logan’s under-shirt up and over his head, “Oh you are an animal. Can the wedding be next week? Need you to wife me up ASAP.”

Logan shucked off his boots, jeans and boxers leaving him almost as naked as the day he was born were it not for his socks, which he had elected to ignore in favour of undoing the zipper of Wade’s pants. Wade lifted his hips So Logan could shimmy them down to his thighs while he followed the other mutant’s lead and shrugged off his – Logan’s – flannel. Logan’s hands froze on Wade’s muscular thighs, pupils pinned as his gaze was firmly locked onto the deep red thong that was doing a shit job at covering Wade’s raging hard on. A low rumble emanated from Logan.

“Does my big bad Wolvie like?”

Logan nodded, seemingly unable to form words as he fell to his knees – taking Wade’s pants the last of the way down with him – to mouth at the material on scarred hips. Wade instinctually threaded a hand into Logan’s hair when sharp teeth pinged the material against his skin.

“How do you want this Angel Baby? From the front, the back, cowgirl, pretzel, wheelbarrow, caboose, butter churner? I have a lot more ideas where those came from if you don’t like them. Oh! Would you like the panties to stay on or come off?”

Logan chuckled, trailing his tongue over Wade’s cratered abs, “Hmmm, I’ll keep those suggestions in mind for when we take this to our room. Right now though, where’s the fuckin’ lube?”

Wade let go of Logan’s hair to point over to a drawer in the corner table that he had moved the candles to. Logan turned, fishing it out with a triumphant grunt and wasted no time in popping the cap off to smother his fingers. With his free hand he hooked Wade’s thong to the side. Wade jolted when he felt two cold wet fingers circle his rim before pressing in. He tensed at first but Logan’s subtle scent of of pine trees, cigars, sandalwood and musk seemingly intensified and mixed with something heady making Wade relax. It was like even his smell could issue commands.

“Y’ve become so soft and pliant for me, Darlin’. Didn’t think that was possible with how tight y’were during the start of my Rut.”

“I thought my healing factor reset things like that,” Wade moaned, “All those months of you fingering my ass and I was tight as ever, but you get your cock in and suddenly you have an all access entry pass.”

Logan crocked his fingers and began thrusting and scissoring them inside the merc. Wade wiggled and squirmed on the table, Logan was so close to brushing against his prostate, just needed him to go that little bit deeper. The older mutant used his free hand to hold down Wade’s hips, stopping him from moving, and smirked. Wade groaned in frustration. That teasing fuck was doing it on purpose. Wade grasped Logan’s hair again and tugged Logan down into a slow yet demanding kiss. Four-hundred pounds of adamantium skeleton and relaxed muscles rested on top of him, the coffee table creaked in protest making Wade break away with a chuckle.

“Sorry Honey Badger, I think the table can’t support you. Guess we can’t have you on top of me like this- ah!”

Logan chose that moment to slip in a third finger and nail his prostate dead on, making Wade gasp for air, “We’ll make do.”

Logan’s scruff tickled his jaw as he trailed kisses and nips down his neck, continuing passed his collar bones on an oh so slutty path towards one of Wade’s nipples. Wade whined as Logan mouthed at the still surprisingly sensitive nub while his fingers continued to tease his prostate and stretch him out. Precum leaked from his twitching cock in a constant stream on to his cratered abs and against Logan’s stomach through the red lace where it was trapped. A particularly harsh nibble from Logan’s fangs had Wade groaning like the masochistic little whore he was as blood beaded up from the short-lived wound. Blood that was swiftly lapped up and smeared across to his other scar covered nipple to give it the exact same treatment. A forth finger slid in, Wade’s last shred of patience snapped as the stretch threatened to send him over the edge, heat rapidly building in his gut.

“Logan. Fuck- Enough foreplay. Need- ha- Need you. Gonna cum.”

Logan broke away with a wet pop, a trace of crimson on his smirking lips as he retracted his fingers. He placed Wade’s legs over his shoulders and raised to standing. The Alpha lined up his cock with Wade’s slick hole, “Not yet. Where can my mate cum?”

Wade tried to push onto him but a hand on his hip kept him in place. Not to mention the angle made it awkward. Reverse wheelbarrow, both a blessing and a curse. He keened in frustration and gave Logan the answer he knew he was waiting for, “On your dick.”

“Attaboy.”

Logan slid down to the root in one hard precise thrust that sent Wade careening over the edge, taut like a strung bow, his load shooting hot down his chest, neck and onto Logan’s dog tags with a punched out cry.

“That’s it Princess, just like that. Such a good boy for me,” Logan praised, a hand going to Wade’s still hard – Thank you healing factor –cock to wring the last dribbles of spend from him.

Sparks of oversensitivity bolted through his nerves, making him flinch and wriggle away from the touch. Wade’s eyes rolled back as Logan’s scent washed over him, once again lulling his muscles to relax. The Alpha withdrew until just his tip remained inside and thrust back in, hitting just a deep, setting a slow and deliberate pace. Breathy little “ah ah”s escaped from Wade every time he felt the bulbous head of Logan’s cock bumped against his prostate.

“Y’ve got another one in y’ for me don’t y’?” Logan cooed down to him.

Come on Wade, you’ve only gotten started, you can’t be reduced to a moaning mess already. The merc thought to himself.

“F-F-Faster.”

Wade reached behind him, gripping the table’s edge to stop him from sliding off it thanks to the table cloth. It creaked in protest beneath him, its rocking speeding up as Logan gripped Wade’s hips with both hands to pull the him into his thrusts. Wade crossed his ankles behind Logan’s head, tightening his hole around the Alpha and dragging a low moan from the both of them at the pressure. Fingers reached down to trail through the cooling cum on his chest, near enough folding Wade in two, the cock inside him hitting impossibly deeper. Wade looked down and saw those same fingers wrapped back around his cock slick and sticky and a very noticeable bulging in his stomach. That shouldn’t be physically fucking possible. Wade threw his head back with a whine, pleasure bleeding through his senses from both sides, overwhelming him too fast yet again. For fuck’s sake Wade is meant to be a good shot not a quick shot. Logan didn’t look like he would last much longer either, sweat beading in his hair line, breathing harsh as he stared down at where they were joined with pupils blown wide.

“Bet y’ would’ve taken my knot so well. So perfect for me. Love how well you take it. Need you to come again for me, Darlin’” Logan growled out before turning his head to sink his fangs into the meat of Wade’s calf.

The sharp sting of pain was what he needed to push him through the overstimulation and into his next orgasm, his vision going hazy as tears welled up and spilled over with his release which caught his cheek and the table this time. His nails scratched against the table cloth, tearing holes into it. He could distantly hear the wail he let out barely registering that it was him making that noise. Warmth flooded inside him as Logan buried himself as deep as possible, head falling back with his own porn worthy moan. Time slowed to a crawl. They stayed like that as they came down from their releases, catching their breath.

Eventually Logan gently lowered Wades legs to rest around his hips as he came to a kneel on the floor once more. Wade watched in a daze as the older man reached down to the Cava which had miraculously remained upright during their romp. Logan drank from the bottle directly in long gulps, Wade’s gaze fell to his throat, transfixed by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, his own mouth suddenly feeling parched.

“Save some for me,” he breathed, voice scratchy.

Logan licked his lips, something mischievous flickered in his eyes as he raised a brow. He took a final swig and placed the bottle back down. Leaning down, he slotted his lips over Wade’s. Wade eagerly accepted what he thought was just a kiss but soon felt liquid slip into his mouth.

Logan pulled back with a grin, “That what y’wanted?”

Wade hummed in satisfaction and reached to pull his man back down. Just as their lips were about to meet once more, Logan swiftly turned his head and licked a stripe across the cum on Wade’s cheek.

“We’re not done yet Bubba. We’re just going to take this somewhere more comfortable.”

Logan pulled out, dragging a needy whine from Wade who was not emotionally ready for the empty feeling. So he was becoming clingy with his partner, sue him. You haven’t experienced the Wolverpeen and it’s life altering affects. As quickly as the emptiness settled in, Logan had scooped him up into a princess carry, long strides making short work of the walk to their bedroom. Wade was gently placed onto their shared bed.

“Wait right here, I’m going to tidy real quick. That thong better be off before I come back otherwise I’m tearing it off,” Logan instructed.

Wade saluted, “Sir, yes sir. Just so you know the Sonic Orb™ is in Al’s room bee tee dubs.”

My my, you finally finished the sex scene, why did that take you two whole months?

The curse. The readers saw my quick update but since then it seems trying to write this bit was really cursed. Minor injuries said my back injury would be fine after about two weeks but lo and behold even a month later that fucker was still giving me grief. And my fucking boiler broke man! What the actual fuck?

Yikes. Definitely don’t want to be you. Welp let’s get a move on. Come on. Can’t lift the curse until you finish what you started. Oh and reader, that thong got torn off.

Wade decided to take a week off from work – the upside of being your own boss – to celebrate their engagement. Took the girls out for a family meal, which was also a kind of apology meal for Laura and her sweet little nose. He may have forgotten about her sense of smell when her dad was fingering him. And obviously they announced the glorious news to the extended family (Vanessa and Co) which led to Buck shutting St Margaret’s for the day so celebrations could be held there. Of course, now that Wade had bagged Logan with a promise to be life partners, he couldn’t keep his hands off him when they were alone together. So it felt like a self-imposed torture when Wade returned to work.

It was meant to be a simple job to clear scumbags out of a warehouse near some remote forests up-state. Easy in and out that wasn’t too far from home. And to ease his newly acquired separation anxiety, he had one of Logan’s under shirts stashed away in one of his pouches which he had nabbed from the laundry basket before it could be washed. In fact, he had been trying to delay doing the laundry just so Logan’s scent lingered in their room for longer, it made him feel more at peace. But never mind that, back to the mission.

Deadpool picked the lock to the warehouse successfully, creeping through the halls to try and find the head honcho’s office. If he cut the head of the serpent first this whole thing would probably go a lot easier. However, when was luck ever on his side? He’s not Domino and he didn’t have her bullshit not power. The first door he tried triggered a fucking alarm. A quick glance around the room clued him into why it was alarmed, different limbs and organs stashed in jars on industrial shelving. This was either mutant related or human/organ trafficking, not good.

Deadpool heard a gun firing just in time to barely dodge, the bullet grazing his shoulder. He hissed at the scratch that quickly healed over, quickly unsheathing Baby Knife from his boot and flinging it into the nameless goons forehead. He didn’t know how many of these fuckwards there were here so no point in using his guns yet until he had thinned the herd a little. Deadpool retrieved Baby Knife and ran down an adjoining corridor, the thumping of multiple pairs of boots not far behind him. He needed distance and space if he was going to fight more than one dickhead at a time. Corridors weren’t very good if you wanted to dual wield katanas.

They must’ve had some sort of walkie talkie system since a lone bastard was running towards him with a knife. Idiot. You don’t bring a knife to a sword fight unless its to sneakily jab your enemy. Deadpool drew one of his golden girls (That’s what I call my katanas.) and twirled away from the incoming slash to respond in kind with a flourish. The goon collapsed to the ground, blood spraying everywhere in his decent as his head rolled away wetly.

“If the walls were white someone might mistake this for a children’s hospital,” Deadpool cackled, “Oh colour theory.”

He knew he should’ve staked out the operation before barging in but that would’ve meant spending more time away from home. And he was in no state to do. As Deadpool aimlessly zigzagged through the halls, cutting down approaching goons as he went, he felt his temperature rising. He was really starting to work up a sweat. He caught a few good shots as well, the bastards. Deadpool eventually staggered a large loading bay and a metal staircase leading up to an overhead office space. The light was on and he could just make out a figure moving about in there.

Bingo.

Deadpool leaped over the guardrail and took the steps two at a time. With the momentum he had built up he shoulder barged through the metal door and locked it behind him.

“Who the fuck are you?!” The balding man in a white suit yelled in a southern accent, pulling out a gun.

Deadpool held up a finger as he hunched over, trying to catch his breath. Fuck something was wrong. His temperature was still rising and his legs felt unsteady. He stood as tall as he could.

“Someone who needs your head to get paid. Goodbye bad guy number two-hundred-and-forty-seven,” He declared, trying to sound intimidating and hoping his voice wasn’t shaking.

Before the man could open fire Deadpool had whipped out his own pistol and shot him in the knee causing him to drop to the floor in agony. Deadpool climbed on top of his writhing form and, with his katana lined up nice and cleanly between his intended victims neck vertebra, sliced through ligaments, tendons and muscle to detach his reward. Banging on the door got his attention, the goons were trying to get in. Shit, can’t he get a moment to recuperate? Looking round, Deadpool spotted furniture he could barricade himself in with. He was in no state to try and make a daring escape. With maximum effort Deadpool pushed and dragged cupboards and a desk in front of the metal door.

Wade yanked off his masked and collapsed to the floor against some drawers, gasping for air, it felt so stuffy. He fished his phone out of a pouch and immediately called Logan who was quick to pick up.

“Logan,” he panted, “Something’s wrong with me. I’ve blocked myself in the head office but I’ve got fuck-os trying to get in. I need evac now.”

“I’ll head out now, text me the location. Hang on tight, Princess.” Came Logan’s voice from the device, low and reassuring.

“My knight in yellow armour.”

Wade promptly hung up to send his location. With a sigh, he leaned back and just tried to relax despite the people trying to break in to kill him. They wouldn’t be successful in murdering him but their attempts wouldn’t exactly be pleasant, especially with how run down he was beginning to feel.

And that’s when he felt it. A trail of slick running down his thighs emanating from his hole.

“Fuck.”

What no Logan segment?

Next chapter will be entirely his POV don’t fret. All shall be fair.

And that cliffhanger?

Mwahahahaha!

[ilguna]

☼ the water heals our wounds (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick was beginning to believe that the damage done on you was permanent, but he had to try one more idea.

warnings; swearing, death mention, torture mention

wc; 5.3k

–

It’s too loud.

You can hear everything, between the people shouting nearby, and the consistent beeping from machines. There’s voices talking over one another, orders being barked around the room, fighting for more attention.

It’s bringing on a pounding headache, as if there’s tiny people inside of your head, slamming their fists on the inside of your skull with both hands, trying to get out. At first, it’s bearable, considering what you’ve been through lately.

And then it burns.

You fly up in the bed, eyes opening, hands reaching for the source of pain, attached to your forearm. Several people reach to grab and restrain you to keep from moving any further. You can see that there’s a needle, blood moving into a small vial.

“Miss (L/n), we’re just drawing your blood.” A nurse tells you, “You’re in District Thirteen, you’re safe now.”

“Dis—” You begin, and find that your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat, “District Thirteen isn’t real.”

“I assure you, it is.” He says, “We just had a team of volunteers rescue you and a few other victors from the Capitol.”

“The Tribute Center.” You murmur, watching as they pull the needle out, and replace it with a cotton pad, wrapping your elbow. “We were in the Tribute Center.”

“Yes, very good.” He says, “Can you tell me where you’re from?”

“District Four.” Your face twists, the headache is coming back, “Can we—?”

“When did you win the Hunger Games?”

“Sixty-Seventh. Can we talk about something else?” You look away, observing the space you’re in, “Anything else…”

You must be in District Thirteen’s hospital, judging by what you’re surrounded by. You can see a lot of people moving around, dressed similarly. The nurses and doctors look like they’re wearing different outfits than—what you can only guess is—regular civilians. There’s a few people sitting on gurneys dressed in hard armor and bulletproof vests, pockets absent of weapons.

You’d like to say that it’s not usually this busy or disorganized often, and that’s because of how the medical crew are reacting to the sheer amount of people in here. It’s crawling with bodies. They push people on gurneys away into hallways, some straight into private rooms where they pull the blinds, others are subjected to being treated in the main open room, like you.

You must not be high risk, then. 

You watch as a team of professionals wheel a gurney by, someone laying unresponsive in the bed. You look away quickly, to the next rapidly moving object, and realize that you recognize the person. You manage to look back in time to see who it really is, stomach squeezing in horror.

It’s Johanna on that bed, head shaven to the skin, scabs covering every inch of available skin. She looks disgusting, but it answers the question that’s been on your mind these past couple of weeks. You finally know what’s been happening to Johanna in the Capitol.

“Are you hungry? Or thirsty?” He asks, “We normally have to wait for clearance, but you’re alert and responsive. They wouldn’t want us to wait for permission.”

“I’d like water, if you can.” You nod, “I’m not hungry, though.”

He gives you a smile, turning to place his hand on the girls’ shoulder next to him, beginning to talk to her. You look away again, towards the doors that have just been pushed open, doors slamming against the wall from the force.

A young woman with dark hair in a braid is looking around the room quickly, searching for something. You get a glimpse of her face, and you know instantly that it’s Katniss Everdeen. 

You grit your teeth, a shudder running through your body. You grip onto the railings handles, letting out a shaky breath. You’ve seen her a lot recently, although you’ve never met her, not yet anyway. You had mentored the Quarter Quell—no, no you shouldn’t think about that.

“Gale!” Katniss shouts, starting for him.

A nurse blocks her, saying something, and you’re trying to read her lips, when a voice cuts through the noise.

“(Y/n)!”

You flinch, jerking to the other side of the bed, squeezing your eyes shut. The thoughts—the memories—of all the times he’s screamed your name, screamed at you. The morning he left, the purple bruises…

He punished you, said that it’s your fault this happened. 

“Miss (L/n)?” The nurse asks, placing his hand on yours.

You jump, swatting his hand off of yours. In the process, your eyes fly open, catching sight of him—of Finnick—coming towards you. You can’t let him have you, the last time he did—the nightmares still haven’t stopped. You can’t do it again. You need to get out of here.

You almost trip getting out of the bed, legs tangled in the scratchy white hospital sheets. Your bare feet slap against the tile floor, which is cool against your soles. You stumble a few steps to catch your balance before wheeling around, both hands grabbing the gurney.

“Get away from me!” You scream, pulling the back back a bit before launching it in his direction.

You watch his smile drop, eyebrows drawing in. He’s doing it again, the next thing you know he’ll have everyone on his side. He’s not going to trick you, you’re not going back to him this time. You’ll die before you end up in his hands. It was better in the Capitol. He wasn’t there, and you were safe.

A couple people jump to catch the gurney before it slams into him. It almost makes you want to scream at them, too, for trying to protect him. You don’t have time to, you turn around and start for the exit doors on the other side of the room. The male nurse that had been helping you tries to make a grab, but completely misses.

“Stop her!” He shouts.

You slip past several people, slamming into the metal doors, which start emitting a terrible, high-pitched scream that starts once they’re opened. You make a run for it down the long, cement hallways, feet slapping painfully on the floor. You can hear shouting behind you, pleading for you to stop.

You’re faster than they are. The further you run, the less you’re able to hear them, until their voices are gone entirely. You end up tripping into one of the side doors, leading you into a dark room. Good, they shouldn’t be able to find you here for a long time.

You drag your feet to the corner of the room, panting, struggling to catch your breath. The burning in your chest slowly grows stronger, you dig your nails into your collarbone, trying to distract from the pain.

You slide down the wall, letting out a sob, hands moving to clamp over your ears to block out the humming sound coming from somewhere inside of the room.

—

You hate the hospital wing of District Thirteen.

Surprisingly, it has nothing to do with the fact of how the medical team is treating you. For once in your life, they couldn’t be more considerate and caring about your feelings. It’s refreshing, considering you’ve been in and out of the hospital since you won the Hunger Games.

The Capitol didn’t catch that your immune system was weaker than it had been before. You were home for a week before you caught the nasty disease that was going around the district. You spend two and a half months in the hospital trying to recover and leave. 

You honestly thought you were miserable in the arena, but it was nothing compared to how they treated you in the Four hospital. You know it was nothing personal, that’s how they treated all their patients. It was just so odd to see so much aggression in a place of healing.

There were a few times you almost left the hospital without being discharged because you couldn’t handle it anymore. It’s difficult to deal with that behavior in such a fragile state of mind. You couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares that plagued you, you were hardly eating because every bite made you nauseous.

The only reason why you were convinced to stay each time was because of Finnick. You think you remember him telling you that you could risk putting yourself in more danger if you didn’t stay. The last thing you wanted to do after you won the Games was die when you got home.

When you told that story to the Head Doctor here—mostly the part that you hate hospitals, in hopes that he would change his mind and let you stay in your own dorm—he hung onto that story, and a certain factor about it. Like how you didn’t mention Finnick in a negative light.

Those times in the hospital could’ve very well have been Finnick drawing you in. You smelt honey each time you were around him, making you feel safe enough to land. And the second you did, he trapped you.

The doctor won’t let you leave, no matter how many times you beg him to.

Like you said, you completely understand that they’re just doing their jobs when they come to check on you, and accompany you to the bathroom, and take you for walks around the hallways. The issue is that there’s nothing more you want right now than to be left alone.

When they hover like this, it’s like they’re trying to set you back. They did this in the Capitol, hovered over your smallest movements, made you second-guess your sentences. Now, you’re always waiting for the nurses here to say something like they did, always waiting for the drop that’ll never come.

“Do you want to go around one more time?” The nurse asks.

“No, I’m done.” 

There’s no point in walking around these halls. There’s nothing to look at, no rooms to look inside of. All it does is leave you to your thoughts, because half of the time, the nurses can’t bring themselves to carry a conversation. You might as well stay inside of your room.

“You remember that you’re supposed to be pushing yourself, right?” She asks.

“He wants me to push myself to walk in a rectangle?” You snap back, looking at her, “I can obviously walk just fuckin’ fine. They didn’t break my fucking legs.”

“It’s to keep up your stamina.”

“If you wanted to test my stamina, then you’d let me walk around the entire bunker and keep your fucking mouth shut to see how long I’ll go for.” You shake your head, rounding the corner to go inside of your assigned room.

You make it two steps before you stop, eyes locked on the foreign object. Your foot moves back to get you out of there, but you know that there’s nowhere to run to, anymore. You need clearance to get through the doors, and you can’t do it without one of the nurse’s approval.

You would’ve snuck out by now if you could.

Your arms wrap around your upper body to hug yourself, fingers digging into your upper arm’s flesh to ground yourself.

It’s just a vase of flowers, it can’t hurt you. What can, is the thought of him being in here, delivering these himself. What else can be in here? What of your belongings did he touch? Is this why the nurses insisted that you get out of bed at that exact moment.

“(Y/n)?”

“Was he in here?” The words are harsh.

“No, we don’t let visitors back here, they are to wait in the lobby.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is surprisingly measured, despite the uncontrollable urge to freak out. You grip your arms tighter, “Was he in here?”

She’s silent for a few seconds, “Yes.”

“Why on earth would you let him?” You tear your eyes from the flowers, “Who approved of that?”

“Doctor Hurley did.” She says, “There’s been so much progress between you two, so he allowed Finnick to come in here on special request to deliver a gift. He picked the flowers himself this morning. He wanted them at their freshest.

You begin to take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, “I don’t understand.”

“What’s the matter?”

“You let him in my space?” You ask, tears building in your eyes. You can’t be safe, not even back here, in an area where you can’t escape if he were here. Is he here? “The one place that he wasn’t supposed to have access to? You let him in here? What did he touch? Did he leave?”

There’s a smile that hints at the corners of her lips. He must’ve talked to her, that’s the only reason why she thinks it’s okay. He told her the same sob story that he told you to get you to stay. She’s supposed to be on your side.

You start inside of your room, one long stride after the other, hand reaching for the clear vase of colorful flowers, paired together to show the end of summer, the beginning of fall. There’s a few long leaves sticking out, giving you more of the outdoors.

You twist around, letting out a scream as you throw the vase at the nurse. She jumps out of the way, making it shatter against the concrete wall instead, glass bursting into pieces, flying in every direction. The bundle of flowers lands in the puddle of glass and water.

—

“I want to go to the cafeteria to eat!” You shout, hand flying out in the direction of the door, “I don’t understand why Peeta’s allowed to go and I’m not!”

Doctor Hurley is shaking his head at you, face twisted like it always is when he’s delivering bad news. Behind him stands Boggs, the head of security, arms crossed and waiting in the doorway. You demanded to see both of them today, because it would be the only way to appeal to both at the same time.

“It’s not an act of unfairness, (Y/n).” Doctor Hurley says, “Let’s say you have an episode, there’s a chance you could trigger both Johanna and Peeta at the same time too. And it’s vice versa with Peeta.”

“You really think that Peeta’s aggression could set me off?” You ask, “Peeta and I might have had the same treatment, but it was obviously done in different ways. He’s aggressive towards Katniss, and they made me afraid of Finnick.”

“Yes, precisely.” 

You turn your attention to Boggs, “Please, you know that my first reaction wouldn’t be to fight. The first thing that I’d do is run. All you’d have to do is worry about getting Peeta under control.”

“We would still have to spend time finding you after you run. That first day you came here, you only had access to the hospital wing, and it took hours for us to find you. It’ll take longer, possibly days, if you went hiding here.” Boggs says.

“Yet you were able to find Katniss each time she hid, right?” You shoot back, watching his face twist. “Yeah, I know about that because of Haymitch. And worst-case scenario, if you can’t find me, I come down from the hysteria and come out myself.” Now you look back at Hurley, “You’ve been teaching me self-soothing techniques for a reason to bring myself back down when I’m feeling that way.”

Hurley shakes his head, “This is not a time to put that to the test.”

You cross your arms, shaking your head, “Then why don’t you send Johanna or Peeta to their rooms? It’d be a fair trade-off.”

“We can’t, we’re under special orders from Coin to continue to push his progress. We need him outside of his comfort zone.” Boggs says, “And Johanna’s stable enough to mix her with the other victors. We can’t risk a third.”

“So he’s the golden one, again?” You ask, “You say that it’s not a matter of being unfair, but that’s exactly what it is.”

“(Y/n), why don’t you go down on a different day?” Hurley asks, “It’ll still let you feel some sense of normalcy.”

You slam your fists into the desk, the tray full of food rattles against the wood, “You only let them go down once a week! I don’t want to sit with people I don’t know! I want the victors, for fuck’s sake!” You scoot away from the table, back further onto the bed to give you more leg mobility. This is when you draw your leg back and kick the table so it topples over, the tray hits the floor, food splattering up the wall. “I want to see Finnick!”

The room’s silent for a good minute, while you struggle to get your emotions under control, realizing that this is exactly what they meant about you triggering Peeta and Johanna. These outbursts don’t help you, but what else are you supposed to do? They don’t listen to you. They back you into a corner and give you solutions you don’t care about. 

“You said—” You begin, wiping the tears that are forming in the corners of your eyes away, “You said that denying me things like this is a step back.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Hurley says.

“It feels like you’re trying to keep me from moving forward, by keeping me away from them. How am I supposed to know how to act around them, if you don’t give me a chance?” You ask, “I want an opportunity.”

Boggs watches you for a few more seconds, and then he lets out a sigh, “Tell the nurses to give her a jumpsuit.”

Hurley turns to look at him, “After this?” He motions to the mess on the floor, “How do you think Peeta will react?”

“I think Peeta’s shown a lot of empathy for the people that were with him in the Capitol, recently.” Boggs says, “He’s made it a long way as well, and I’m not going to prioritize him. If there’s a step back, fine. We have another couple of weeks to work on it.”

“If you think so.” Hurley looks at you, “We’ll have a nurse bring a jumpsuit. Boggs will bring you down.”

“Thank you.”

Both of them leave, heading in the direction of the nurse station at the end of the hall. You try not to bother them too much if you don’t have to. They’ve begun to lift a lot of the restrictions they’ve put on you, which is a relief. It’s driving you crazy to be treated like a child.

While you wait, you go over to clean up the mess you made. You place the table upright, and get to work on using napkins to scoop the specific portions of food back onto the metal tray. By the time Boggs comes back, the food is relatively gone, and you can’t even tell you knocked the table over.

He hands over your new outfit, one that you’ve worn a few times before. You take it, and shuffle inside of the bathroom. You use the one hair tie they allow you to have to tie your hair out of your face, and then you change into the grey outfit. You leave the bathroom, pulling on your flats, because that’s all they allow you to have. 

Boggs escorts you out of your room, down a hall and through a pair of swinging doors. They moved you out of the first area because you stopped showing a threat of escaping. You nearly cried when they told you the news, because the nurses there are significantly meaner than the ones over here. And they’ve told you several times that they would never have let Finnick go into your room like that, regardless of what Doctor Hurley approved.

The moment you step foot out of the hospital, you wrap your arms around your body to hold in the anxiety that’s beginning to bubble inside of you. In a few days, it would’ve been two weeks since you last saw Finnick. You’re not used to him being away for so long, especially with how persistent he is. You’ve been told by the nurses that it’s because he’s working on something with Coin, Plutarch and Haymitch.

When you asked more about it, you were told that they didn’t know anything. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be allowed to tell you, because you haven’t hit that stage yet. Yes, you’re a victor, and you’ve just managed to survive the Capitol, but that doesn’t give you a rite of passage here.

Boggs brings you to an elevator, where he has you step inside, and then pulls the door down. He presses a button on a box next to him, and the two of you begin your descent to the cafeteria’s floor. The elevator’s not even close to as nice as the ones from the Capitol, those ones move smoothly and noiselessly.

It stops, he pulls the door open, and leads you to the cafeteria doors. He stops in front of them, “If you feel the need to leave, you have to let me know.”

“I will.” You nod.

“We’ll grab you a tray, and then sit down with them. Lunch just started, it should be over in thirty minutes.”

You nod again, letting him know you’re listening. He goes through the doors, and you follow behind him, hugging yourself tighter to give you something to focus on. A few people glance to look at you, but their eyes don’t linger for very long, returning to the person they’re talking to.

Boggs brings you to the short line that leads to the window where you get your food. When it’s your turn, the lady on the other side gives you a wide smile, and tells you to enjoy. You wonder how many of the people in here know who you are.

Boggs starts walking away, and you follow behind him, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, because you can no longer hug yourself. You’ve got the tray in your hands, something to focus on.

“Mind if we join you?” Boggs says, stepping aside.

You suck in your bottom lip, giving a smile to the table of victor’s in front of you.

“I was wondering when they’d finally let you out of your cell.” Johanna says first, motioning to the one open spot, “We have so much to catch up on.”

“Trust me, it was a fight to even come eat lunch down here.” You set the tray on the table, and then move to sit on the bench. Peeta scoots over to give you more room, “If it weren’t for Boggs, I’d be eating my lunch off of the floor.”

He laughs behind you.

“Lucky you.” Peeta murmurs, “You do that often?”

You breathe out a laugh, “I try not to anymore.”

You pick up the fork, twisting it in your hand, looking up to see exactly who you’re sitting with. Johanna’s sitting across from you, with one leg up on the bench, leaning into it while she eats. Peeta’s sitting to your right, his own personal bodyguards tower behind him, they must not bother him.

Katniss is sitting across from Peeta, but she’s more toward the end of the table, eating with the man you saw on your first day, the one she couldn’t see, Gale. On the other side of Johanna sits a blonde girl, twirling her hair around her finger. She offers you a wide smile.

And the last person, who was on the other side of Peeta—now next to you—is…

You swallow thickly at the sight of Finnick, feeling your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. Usually when you see him, it’s across a table, at the far side so that you’re not close. Always your request, never his. He goes along with it because he doesn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.

You have to quickly remind yourself that he won’t hurt you. Doctor Hurley and his team of doctors have been working hard to try and reverse the damage that was done in the Capitol. However, if there’s one thing that people tend to hold onto the most, it’s fear. 

Finnick raises his eyebrows, the small smile he was holding is slowly fading, “Do you want me to move?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, “It wouldn’t be a big deal, you didn’t know—”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I heard you’re working on some projects with Beetee?”

Finnick’s expression transforms entirely, lighting up, “Yes, he’s showing me new trident designs. You’d love them, he made one the other day that made me think of you. It had these vines that snaked around the handle, and bright colorful flowers. It’s not practical to use, but I know how you like the prettier looks.”

“Maybe you can show me the next time we have our meeting. It was on paper, right?”

“Yeah, I think he made a small prototype, it’s plastic, so hopefully it’ll pass through the doors.” Finnick shrugs.

“That sounds nice.”

Johanna lets out a scoff, “Nerds.”

—

“I still can’t believe you convinced them to let both of us up here.” You say, jogging slightly to catch up with Finnick. “And alone?”

“I have a way with words.” Finnick turns to wink at you, “You’re going to love it.”

He readjusts the bag he has on his shoulder, it’s gotta be heavy. You offered to carry some of the food inside, but he told you that he wants you to enjoy being outside again for the first time in months. 

“This is the last door.” He tells you, going through it first, and then holding it open.

The sunlight streams through the door, and blinds you on your way through. You take in a deep breath as soon as you’re fully outside. It smells so fresh, lighter than the recycled air from inside. The sun on your skin feels nice, and it’s warm. 

“Johanna would love it up here.” You murmur, crossing your arms over your chest, “Do you think they’d let her out?”

“If she shows signs of getting better, they will, but she’s having issues at the moment.” Finnick shakes his head, “I wish it could be the three of us again.”

You nod, “So where are we picnicking? Right here?”

Finnick scoffs, “Are you kidding? No, I’ve got a special spot that you’re also going to love?”

“How deep?” You ask, “We shouldn’t go too far.”

“It’s not too far, I promise. It’s closeby, Katniss showed me where it is.”

“Okay,” You motion for him to go first, “Lead the way.”

Finnick begins walking along a path that has been stomped into the ground. The two of you travel through the trees, and you can’t help yourself when you touch every green object you pass. The bark, the leaves, the grass, the rocks. You pluck a white flower out of a bush and carefully tuck it behind your ear.

“Can I ask what you and Katniss passed? I heard it was some sort of test.” You pull a leaf off of a plant to fold and pull apart while you walk. “I was going to ask Johanna but I was told I couldn’t see her.”

“I can tell you, but you can’t go and tell Boggs that I did. You can’t tell anyone, actually.” He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes lingering on the flower.

“Promise.” You smile.

“Well, they’re planning an attack on the Capitol, which you already know.” He starts, “The test Katniss and I took was to see if we were eligible to join.”

You can feel the smile disappear from your face, “Why would you want to do that?”

“To help, of course.” He says, “I was placed on the same squad as Katniss, Boggs is going to be leading it. Johanna failed the test, she freaked out. That’s why she wasn’t available for visitors. I had to fight them to be let in.”

“When are you going?” You ask, fingers gravitating toward your mouth, teeth biting onto nails.

“Soon, hopefully. We won’t know more information until we ship out.”

You’re not sure why they, Katniss and Finnick, would want to go there after seeing what happened to you, Johanna and Peeta. Haven’t they learned anything from it? What happens when they get captured? They’re automatically killed.

“That’s a bad idea.” You murmur, “For either of you to go.”

“Our luck, we won’t even be able to do any of the action.” Finnick shrugs, “I could tell by Boggs’ face that we’re going to be decoration.”

You hum, “How much farther?”

“Only a couple more minutes.” Finnick tells you.

He changes the topic, talking about Peeta’s cake decorating skills from a couple of weeks ago. They threw a party and filmed it to use for propaganda. You were in a few of the shots, but not many. The cake that Peeta made had to be carried out by four people, and they were careful not to ruin the beautiful icing that must’ve taken Peeta hours, despite his skilled hand. 

You wish you had even half the talent that he does.

“We’re going this way.” Finnick begins to go down a slope, you follow, not really paying attention.

And then you hear it, the sound of running water. You pick up speed, going right past Finnick to see if what you’re hearing is correct. You’re led to a tree, a patch of shade, and beyond that, a small cliff that leads to a shallow river.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, “You knew this was here?”

“That’s what I was bringing you to.” He laughs, placing the bag down by the tree. He reaches in to pull out the blanket, spreading it over the patch of shade.

You reach to pull off your shoes, not bothering to entertain the idea of sitting down, not with something so refreshing and familiar nearby. You throw your shoes by the end of the blanket, and move on to rolling up the legs of the jumpsuit, not wanting them to get soaking wet.

“What are you doing?” He asks, looking up at you.

“I’m getting in, of course!” You turn away from him, heading to the river.

“Wait!” He shouts behind you, getting up, “What if it’s faster than you think?”

“So be it! Let me get carried away by the waves!” You laugh, sitting down on the edge before scooting in.

You’re afraid that you’re going to land harshly on rocks, but your feet sink into mud. The water is cold, but not as bad as it can be back home in Four. It feels nice on your skin, and combined with the sun… it really is a perfect day for a picnic. 

You wade deeper into the water, feeling it go up to your knees. When you turn around, you’re met with Finnick, standing at the top, staring down at you. You splash a handful of water in his direction, letting out a laugh.

“This is so much better than taking a shower and pretending it’s raining!” You throw your head back, arms out while you spin slightly, “I love it!”

“You don’t want to eat first?” Finnick asks, laughing.

You wave the idea away, “This reminds me of the summer after I won. How we went to the beach all day, forgot sunscreen and went back home burnt to hell. It hasn’t been that hot in a long time.”

Finnick’s face twists, a pout appearing for a second, before it disappears, “I remember.”

“Get in here!” You splash at him again.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

I can't think of a title for these clone wars headcanons

Ahsoka does this thing that never fails to get a laugh out of the people around her and it’s the fact that she calls herself an angel whenever someone calls her out for doing something bad or reminds her of something she’s done she’ll look around before going “Who me? I’m an angel”

Which has the whole group bent over laughing hysterically sometimes they’re able to choke out a sentence that sounds like “Jedi aren’t supposed to lie” or something along those lines 

So I’ve had this idea for a while but I feel like something along the lines of sign language would be necessary for the troops to know if they’re on a stealth mission 

And even tho the Jedi don’t need to sign with each other it’s kind of common practice for them to learn some to communicate with the troops

Some signs can differ from troop to troop but they’re close enough that they’re easy to understand and it’s very rare that the other troop will get confused 

Sometimes those signs will leak off the field and into their day-to-day lives most of the time the troops will use signs to be kind to their Jedi who have migraines after a difficult battle but the signs are used the most around Anakin

I feel like it would be pretty easy for Jedi to get overstimulated especially if they’re as powerful as Anakin so it’s not uncommon for him to go nonverbal after a battle or if he’s in a force rich place

If he’s only kind of overwhelmed he’ll use Ahsoka and Obi-Wan as his interpreters and talk through their bonds but sometimes even that is too much so signs like “please” “thank you” “sorry” “hungry” “thirsty” “more” or “I’m okay” become pretty commonplace

It’s not enough to hold an in-depth conversation but that usually works in Anakin’s favor because drawn-out conversations tend to make him nonverbal for longer periods

When Anakin Ahsoka and Obi-Wan are stressed it shows up when they’re asleep 

Anakin sleep talks whenever he’s even slightly worried about something he’s woken poor Ahsoka and Obi-Wan up more times than the duo can count by saying stuff like “Hey hey are you awake?” while he’s out like a light

It freaks the duo out because he’s weirdly eloquent in his sleep bro is holding entire conversations do those conversations make sense to anyone but him? No but they’re conversations nonetheless

Ahsoka sleepwalks it doesn’t matter what happens during the day if it even slightly stresses her out she’s up and out of bed the second she’s slightly asleep it scared the force out of Anakin the first time she sleepwalked in their quarters because she was just standing over him menacingly 

The first time Obi-Wan was introduced to Ahsoka’s sleepwalking was during a sleepover that the trio was having and he had just drifted off to sleep when he heard the buzz of two lightsabers in the other room

Both he and Anakin walked into the kitchen to find Ahsoka standing with her sabers activated she wasn’t in a fighting stance by any means so they could easily disarm her but all Anakin did was ask “You want water snips?” and she nodded while holding out her sabers which he easily grabbed

Only after Ahsoka had a nice glass of water and laid back down did Obi-Wan ask questions the main one being “Is that normal?” and Anakins replies “Well the sabers are new” like someone talking about the weather 

It wasn’t until morning that the trio discovered Anakin and Ahsoka’s kitchen table was cut in half the togruta was incredibly apologetic but Anakin was just impressed that she managed to do it without waking them

Normally Obi-Wan snores like a lawn mower but when he’s stressed he grinds his teeth the real kicker is he grinds them so hard that it’s just as loud as the snoring and the only difference is the poor man wakes up with a sore locked jaw

One time Anakin heard a shiny say that they could never tell what Ahsoka was thinking and the other commented that she’s “like a vault” which had him doubled over in almost painful laughter 

When one of them finally gained the courage to ask him what was so funny he just said “If you wanna know what she’s thinking look at her face” and he’s not wrong girly has the most expressive face it’s like looking at glass

But the people who love her hope that trait never changes cause there’s nothing quite like seeing her face twist as she has to talk to some dirtbag or light up when she gets a compliment 

Recently I got some ideas when it comes to Clone Wars characters and baking

Anakin is one of the best damn cooks in the galaxy he’s also really good at making a meal out of virtually nothing it’s scary impressive but on the other hand the man can’t bake for shit

Cause with cooking measurements aren’t really needed in fact on Tatooine people would scoff if you asked for them but it’s kind of the opposite for baking unless you’ve been doing it for a very long time

So Anakin “Just pour it until it looks good” Skywalker hates baking with a burning passion which is funny because he’s got a sweet tooth the size of a gundark

Ahsoka’s only really used to cooking by Anakin’s side which results in her only really remembering half the recipe like girl can mince like no one else but she can’t make a full dish without calling Anakin to ask for help 

But baking is where this girl thrives she loves to bake and try new recipes which works out because Anakin’s the human equivalent of a garbage disposal with the aforementioned sweet tooth

Cody is pretty proficient at cooking and baking he doesn’t do anything fancy and he doesn’t really like doing either he mostly learned out of necessity cause

Obi-Wan and Rex can’t cook or bake for shit and they’re perfectly fine with that fact like they’re a-ok with living off government rations if it means they never have to step foot in a kitchen 

Padme sweet angel lovely girl thinks she can cook and bake can she….. No

But the thing is she tries so hard and puts her whole heart and soul into her cooking and baking so everyone tries to act like she can it’s the galaxies best kept secret and it’s one that everyone’s happy to keep

There was one time when that secret was almost spilled on Ahsoka’s birthday when Padme offered to make her cake and no one could warn the poor girl cause that would spoil the surprise party

All Anakin could do to rectify the situation was buy a cake from his and Ahsoka’s favorite bakery and hide it in their quarters after the party

During the actual party Anakin pulled her off to the side to warn her just before the cake could be brought out and from an outsider's perspective it looked like a sweet moment between the siblings 

But in actuality all was going on this “Soka you know how you said I was the best master you could ask for” “Yes I said it when I first walked in are you finally going senile” “Well remember all that love when I ask you for the biggest favor” “which is?” “Padme made your cake” “No” “And I need you to act like you love it” “Anakin please if you love me at all” “If you love me you’ll eat the cake and tell her you love it and once the parties over you’ll get to eat your favorite cake in the whole wide world”

And they kind of just sit there and Anakin swears a few tears fall before Ahsoka says “Fine” and he hugs the everloving force out of her before they walk over to eat a slice of the galaxy's prettiest abomination 

[snakegorl212006]

The “Little Things” they do Octavinelle

------Jade----------------------------- “Chamomile tea.i made it myself” jade said not bothered by my loud scream when he came out of nowhere holding a tray with a tea set. “Jade…it’s 3am” I mumbled as he placed the tray on the nightstand. jade pours the tea in the cup and hands it to me “it helps with restless nights according to online forms” jade smiled. He bore his heterochromic eyes at me. Feeling pressured I moved the cup closer to my lips and sip the drink. It was sweet and earthy tasting. It’s not bad. I gulped down the rest of the cup not realizing how thirsty I was. “Thank you” I said, “it’s nothing to thank me for. I'm just doing my duties” he replied as he sat down on the bed next to me glancing and smiling….weird “If you have the time I’ll like for you to join me in the terrarium” jade asked “sure” i replied. I followed jade out to the terrarium where the mushrooms grew nicely and beautifully. “There’s something i wanted to show you” he said as he leads me to a patch of herbs “you grow you’re own tea” i asked “of course. When the lounge was up in business, we only accepted the top quality of ingredients in our foods” he explained “beside how else would our killing be so effective” he adds glancing at me with a smile. I figured he would say something creepy. “Chamomile tea was your favorite so we grew some for you” jade adds as he picks the herbs “i never told you any info like that” i replied “yes you have” he replied “perhaps you don’t remember our time together.or maybe you forgot when you killed me” he said as he gathers the herbs in a bag “no matter. When you join us, maybe we can forgive each other to resume our lifes as normal” he smiles “oh can you water the shrooms, they require much moisture” he adds as he leaves me. I just nod, recovering from the strange revelation. I shook it off soon after. He might be thinking of someone else. I haven’t killed anyone.

------Azul------------------------------------- Azul hasn't been his usual self lately. I would even say he’s gotten soft. More vulnerable. At Least when we’re alone. When I clean he offers to help like most of the others but then there’s the gift giving and late night visits where he clings on to me like his life depends on it. “Which place do you like more.” azul asked randomly “the main house it’s the only place where I could be at peace now days” i replied “how about clothing” he asked “how is this relevant” i asked “just humor me I’m going to be busy. Now how about flowers-” he asked. I sighed and humor him by answering the questions and with a satisfying smile he left. Weird guy. Later on that night i was awakened by a shift in weight a opened my eyes to see a knife stabbing down at me. Quickly i moved to one side briefly dodging the crashing knife. I push the assalent off and turns out to be azul “i knew it..” he mumbled as he gets up and sighs “it’s all the same. Just when I hoped to have a different outcome…I suppose I can be more patient” he mumbles while brushing his hair back. “Have a good night.” azul said as he disappeared, dropping the knife. What was that even for!?

------Floyd--------------------------------------- “Shrimpy~ come out come out i wanna play some more~” Floyd teased as i hid in a room. Him and his bipolar never fails to scare me “please come~ out i’ll make it less painful if you do” Floyd adds as the dragging of a axe was heard -earler- “SHrimpy~” Floyd cheered as he pulls me into a suffocating hug “i messed you~ azul hogged you all day” he exclaimed “sorry i guess..well i’m free if there is something you want me to do” i asked and he thought then smiled “how about my favorite” he asked “i’m not playing extreme water polo with you” i deadpanned “aw. How about a shot off” he asked. Assuming he means water guns i just nod “i’ll go get some” i said then i left. After a quick trip to sam’s shop for some water guns, i entered into the household only for a bullet to miss me by a hair. There infront of me was a revolver held in the hands of floyd. When he pulled the trigger again it jameed “aw.. That ruins the fun” He pouts “what is that noise” Azul asked then he saw the scene displayed “so you finally wished to become one of us” azul asked seemly quite happy "NO" i shouted "well we can't play shoot out you always win anyway… Welp i guess we're playing tag instead.  Then i hear the lock of the door behind me "have fun" jade said before disappearing. "10-"

Now i'm hiding from floyd who somehow gained a axe trying to find a window or something. I sneaked around to another room were a window was present. I unlocked the window and jumped out of the building and booked it back to ramshackle and slammed the door behind me.i breath a sigh of relief as i slid down to the floor in a huff. Note to self no more games with floyd- crack. The head of the axe crash into the door above me “aww i can’t go in there” floyd pouts “until next time I’ll make sure I win”

[carniferous]

hi dil beloved <3 i'm here to get a tiny bite out of ur brain <3 and be insane over ur writing once again <333

idk how vague u want the concepts to be so . jegulus sick fic??? or drunk shenanigans?? i'll take literally anything

laurieee laurie my love!! okay this ask made me remember something: when i was first drafting ibhfts, i had this vague idea that james would get sick at one point during the fic? it was going to be towards the end but i ended up scrapping this idea because it wouldn't really fit with how the plot has developed so far. but really the MAIN reason i wanted to include it so badly is bc i loveeee sickfics (like. i love them so much) so i decided to use this opportunity to write out a little scene that could've been in that version of ibhfts

just fyi this scene will NOT be in ibhfts but it does contain mild spoilers for ch 13 and potentially events that will happen in future chapters. this one is also completely unedited btw !!

It really does serve James right for laughing at him. He hadn’t even cast an Impervious before trekking about in the rain without a care, and then he’d had the gall to laugh in Regulus’s face, to clutch at Regulus’s hands as they toweled off his hair, say What are you so worried about? I don’t get sick! Regulus tries not to feel smug about it as James sniffles and shivers under the covers—and then, perhaps deservedly, James’s bleary, pitiful expression every time he opens his eyes makes it difficult to feel smug about anything.

“You’re such a baby,” he murmurs, practically croons as he strokes the back of his finger against James’s feverish face. “Seriously, who gets sick from being out in the rain? You’re supposed to be a Quidditch player.”

James groans hoarsely, “You’re being mean. Here I am suffering, and you’re being mean to me. What if I died? What then?” 

“You just have a cold, for Merlin’s sake,” he replies, grinning, a strange glee rising up in him at James’s prone and vulnerable state. At how pitiful he is.

“How do you know? You’re not a Healer.”

“Your mother’s a Healer, you idiot, and she says you have a cold.”

“I’m dying,” James whines.

“Baby,” says Regulus, and he means it as a taunt, but it comes out strange and tinged with too much affection. James’s eyes open, his gaze heavy-lidded, curious. Regulus feels heat pool in his spine. 

He shoots to his feet, cheeks warming. “Are you thirsty? I’ll get you some water.”

Somehow, James’s silence as he leaves makes him feel even more unsteady. He has to force his hands to stop shaking long enough for him to pour the water.

When he returns upstairs, James has fallen asleep. His eyelashes flutter as the door opens, his hand curls gently in the sheets. As quietly as possible, Regulus sets the glass down on his bedside table and leaves. 

The day passes like that, strangely quiet without James’s usual energy filling the house. Sirius doesn’t come downstairs, which is simultaneously a blessing and something that sends anxiety skittering across his skin. Regulus keeps searching for him in his periphery. He can’t help it. Back at home, Sirius had the unsettling habit of materializing in doorways, hallways, anywhere to startle Regulus. Sirius’s loud boisterousness was mostly show; he could move as silently as a mouse when he wanted to. As silently as their mother.

It doesn’t matter, though. In the end, it’s Regulus who ends up finding Sirius. 

He’s carrying a bowl of soup on a tray when he opens the door to James’s room. Sirius sits at his bedside. He glances over his shoulder at Regulus, surveys him impassively.

“He’s asleep,” Sirius says.  

Regulus feels his grip tighten reflexively on the tray. He swallows, forces himself to set it down on the nightstand. 

“I’ll leave it here for him.” A pause, then, “He slept the whole day?”

Sirius hums an affirmative, leaning over to rest his chin in the palm of his hand. He stares up at Regulus with a quizzical, probing look in his eyes.

Suddenly, Regulus is tired of it. The way that Sirius has been since he returned, neutral and observant—watchful gaze keeping track of Regulus’s every movement, every expression, as though looking to catch him in something. Silently judging Regulus for the space he takes up in Godric’s Hollow.

If you didn’t want me to live here, Regulus thinks, you shouldn’t have let me.

“You’re worried about him,” Sirius says slowly, with great finality. 

“It’s a cold,” says Regulus. “I’d be stupid to be worried.”

Sirius arches a brow. Regulus feels himself flush. 

“He was saying your name in his sleep. James,” as though he could’ve been talking about anyone else. 

Regulus bites the inside of his cheek. His mind races for a response. 

That’s what’s been irritating him. Sirius is too fucking perceptive. He knows Regulus too well. He knows James even better. And there’s nothing he hates more than being kept in the dark.

“He kept asking where you were going. He seemed upset.”

“What’s your point?”

“He dreamt of you, Regulus,” Sirius says, still with that slow and impassive finality, circling around some realization that he wants Regulus to confirm.

Well, bully for him. Regulus makes a show of rolling his eyes: “A fever dream. Again, your point?”

“I was gone for a while,” Sirius muses, almost to himself. But when his eyes flick upwards, they’re needle-sharp. “Not that long, though.”

“Are you enjoying being needlessly cryptic, or are you eventually going to say what you mean?”

“Something happened between you two,” he says. “Didn’t it?”

Another eye-roll. This is a practiced thing, indifference towards Sirius and his endless suspicions. Regulus was twelve years old when he realized that the more he cared what Sirius thought of him, the more Sirius could hurt him. He was twelve years old when he learned that Sirius would hurt him, given the opportunity.

“Lots of things happened. Like you said,” Regulus meets his gaze, “You were gone a long time.”

Sirius grins. It’s not a nice grin. If James were awake to see it, Regulus thinks he’d be shocked at such an expression on his best friend’s face.

Regulus says, eyes narrowed, “Besides, you asked him to take care of me. Didn’t you?”

The grin falls away. “Well, fuck. I didn’t think he’d tell you that.”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” says Regulus. “Next time you ask one of your friends to babysit me, try to show a bit more discretion.”

“Piss off,” says Sirius, looking genuinely a bit abashed. “As if I was wrong to be worried.”

“Why? Because I’d ruin your darling reputation by being so horrible to the Potters?”

Sirius blinks at him, long and slow. “Because you’d just run away from home after our mother crucio’d you, you git.”

“Oh.” Regulus falls silent. His gaze falls on James’s sleeping face, still flush with fever, a sheen of sweat on his brow. 

He doesn’t know what shows in his expression, but when he looks back up, Sirius is staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Merlin,” he says.

“What?”

“You—”

“Reg?” A slurred voice, heavy with sleep, and Regulus turns immediately. James cracks his eyes open, and a grin spreads over his face. “Hi, Reg. Where’d you go?”

“I—” Regulus darts a half-panicked glance towards Sirius. “I was just letting you sleep.”

“I couldn’t find you.”

Sirius clears his throat loudly. James blinks, and some awareness seems to come back to him.

“Padfoot,” he says, pushing himself up onto his elbows. 

“Hey, Prongs,” Sirius says, full of warmth. “When’re you getting out of this bed, huh?”

“Not soon enough. How long were you sitting there?”

His smile turns blithe, “A while. I’m starving, though, gonna grab something to eat. Rest up, okay?”

James nods as Sirius gets up and leaves, sending Regulus a long, searching look on his way out. Regulus can’t help the breath he releases when the door clicks shut.

“He suspects,” says Regulus.

“Who, Sirius?” James tilts his head to the side, unconcerned, and pushes himself into a sitting position. “Probably.”

“I wish you’d sound more worried about that.”

James hums noncommittally. “Is that soup?”

“James,” Regulus sighs, but he still takes the tray and places it carefully in James’s lap. 

James spoons the soup into his mouth thoughtfully, “He’ll have to find out eventually, you know.”

“You and I share different opinions on that.”

“Yeah, and your opinion makes no sense. How would we keep it from him? Logistically, how would that work?”

“I’ve kept bigger things from Sirius.”

“I haven’t.”

A pause. Regulus looks down at his lap, at his hands laid over one another, murmurs, “I know, James.”

James sets down the spoon. Wordlessly, he reaches over and brushes his thumb down the side of Regulus’s face, a soothing gesture. Regulus leans into the touch, drops his cheek into James’s waiting palm. Lets the solid warmth of it seep into his skin. 

“I just don’t see the point,” James says softly. “The longer we keep it from him, the harder it will be to eventually tell him.”

“It’ll always be hard to tell him, no matter what.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he’ll think I’m trying to take you from him.”

James looks at him incredulously, guilelessly, “But you’re not.”

Regulus’s mouth twitches, and he turns his face into James’s palm to hide his tiny smile. He presses a kiss there—once, then twice. He thinks of being  eleven and watching Sirius walk away from him with an arm slung around James’s shoulders. Of being thirteen and knowing desire, real desire, for the first time: at the sight of James laughing at a joke Sirius was telling him.

“No,” he whispers, and he presses his face deeper into the skin of James’s open hand. “Of course I’m not.”

[underratedorangeside]

My biggest fandom ‘hear me out’ yet

Sander Sides x Drunk (by the living Tombstone)

okay HEAR ME OUT

The ‘a billion trillion eyes are winking’ is where I started thinking about this (Hence Orange’s design in this)

But the only two people who REALLY drink are Logan and Janus, but if Janus was the main character, the eye statement wouldn’t make any sense.

So I started looking more into the lyrics, and I found some in which relate to Logan

‘Was I just feeling bored? Am I that insecure?’ The insecure part really got to me and it really made me think of him.

’Remembering all the old lines, never used to work but I could give them another try’ This makes me think of him missing being more appreciated and he tries to fix it by acting stoic as usual

’Feel so much better than usual, I feel indisputable’ This relates more to Orange and Logan feeling like people are actually listening to him (forced or not) when controlled by Orange.

‘I know that I will be ugly when I feel like myself again’ Pretty self explanatory, Logan fears he’ll be ignored again without Orange

‘As long as I’m thirsty, nobody can hurt me.’ Again mentioning how with Orange, he can make people listen to him.

Obviously, Janus and Remus would be the little voices persuading him to go further cause yes, it fits them

Sorry for the rant, if you haven’t listened to Drunk, I highly recommend it (It has some f bombs and excessive drinking though)

[unholytrinityrpf]

Heavy 🩸 themes! Maybe ⚠️ though not sure if it counts under it. Also okay with 🍪, 🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒, and 🐾! 21 y/o Queer mun looking for 21+ Fandomless Dead Dove Discord Rp! M x M or Masc x Masc only! All my characters are transmasc and or transmen just a forewarning! So that being said, trans characters welcome ofc! The more queer the better! Buzzwords for what I’m looking for are: mutual toxicity/abuse, non/dub con, age gaps, heavy crime/violence, gang and or mafia themes especially is a must, and dystopians. ( I do have a specific idea in mind for a dystopian, will elaborate in dm’s just ask! ) Open to Omegaverse, Hybrids, Monsters, Post Apocalyptic, or Modern Fantasy! Love Apocalyptic stuff especially! To cut to the chase, this will be multi muse, I have 3 characters I’d like to involve in this plot, all within the constraints of the same mafia and gang unit. Looking to mainly use Characters One as a main with the other two as side characters or with ships if it fits. Primarily muse Characters One and Two.

My writing is primarily Novella, but I can go for Lazy Lit. 3rd Person POV and varying between past and present tense, can fixate to one if preferred. Usually write between 600 - 1,200 words. Can be medium paced, but absolutely okay with fast or slow replies. Down with any smut/plot ratio but always prefer to have a detailed and thought out plot or background. Open to all ideas you may have!

Character One, and my main, is the young loyal attack/guard dog to the groups leader. He’s small but deadly, skilled in fighting, and refuses to give up even if he’s beat. He works in a fight club. He’s a spitfire with a bad attitude, always lashing out. He’s untrusting & jumpy like a cornered animal. He’s reserved in the sense he doesn’t like or trust people. He’s best with weapons but that doesn’t stop him from fist fights. He’s 20-21 default, transmasc and gay, 5’0” and a pierced up little punk. He’s loyal to the leader… for now. ( Verse Bottom for smut. Doesn’t use a strap, fingers only kinda guy. Can be an eager to please top, a brat or be obedient. )

Character Two is the other right hand man and loyal attack/guard dog for the leader. He’s a known charmer, but he’s a crude and perverse manwhore with a sadomasochistic streak to him. They love to fuck and fight and party. He can’t commit to any relationship. They’re very sociable. He’s a tank when it comes to fighting. He’s often paired up with Character One because they’re opposites and compliment each other but also because they’re most trusted by their boss. They’re 25 default, masc queer, 5’8” and an absolute dog with a devilish smile. ( Verse Switch for smut. He can be anything you need him to be. )

Character Three is the gang/mafia leader. He’s cold, callous, sadistic, and violent. Very short tempered and very paranoid and distrusting. He’s not afraid to use or sacrifice anyone around him to climb to the top. He’s blood thirsty and power hungry. It’s how he runs his empire. Only his loyal dogs can calm him down along with an ex who won’t be in the picture. While he’s cruel, he is fair in how he runs things until crossed. He’s 30 default, 6’2”, transmale and gay, he’s a king who runs with an iron fist. ( Strict top for smut but always down for forced bottoming or eventually him trusting enough to bottom. )

Looking for characters who are also heavily involved in crime, gangs, or mafia. Love assholes, scumbags, toxic, sadists, short tempers, players, rugged types, etc. Rival gang/mafia members or leaders would be fun! Always down for pimps, drug dealers, back street doctors, and cops whether dirty/clean! Fine with slow burn or jumping straight into relationships. We can talk more plot ideas when I hear about your characters so this isn’t too long because it’s long as is ik.

If you’ve read through all that and are still interested, leave a like and I’ll get to you asap!

If interested, please like this post. 🙏

[papa-evershed]

I’m curious… what do you think are the sexiest gifs of Rob EVER? 😏 I’d love to see ‘em.

I apologize for my late answer but like a weirdo, I was just convinced that my choices would somehow be disappointing. 😅🙈 I just feel like most people are going to expect gifs of kissing scenes or skin but those aren't even the ones that make me the most feral. But I'll give it a shot. 😂

As always, under a read more for length but also for cringe worthy fangirling and NSFW thirst-talk.

Immediately, my first thought was this gif. When I say I adore this man's belly I fucking mean it. He's just so deliciously man-shaped. Tall and thick and soft in all the right places. I love a belly, lets me know that a person isn't too militant and allows themselves to indulge in life's pleasures. 😏😏 (I'm reading way too much into a belly but here we are.) Add in the fact that in this specific scene, Martin Evershed is being the ultimate soft, caring Dad™. He has every reason in the world to lose his shit on Sam but instead he actively chooses to be what she needs in that moment and it's just incredibly sexy because he is a whole ass Man™. I just wrote a fucking novel about this one gif but listen, there's a reason it's first that comes to mind.

The thumb in the mouth? 🙃

Speaking of Act On This, this one too. I'm not even sure if I can put my finger on exactly why this specific gif is one of my favorites. Perhaps because he's usually so smiley (which I adore) that a rare serious/stern look wrecks me. Another reason I want him cast as a villain. Just...yes, sir.

And on the flip side, these because he's just so soft again. I fucking love soft men, ones who don't seem to have that drive to constantly perform their own personal version of hyper-masculinity. (also, I'd suck a random dick off the street to get this in HQ)

I'm a simple creature and I like profiles, noses, and tits.

Like I said, I'm a simple creature and I am no better than any man.

When the right men manspread at the right time? Yes. Yes, that.

When Dad™ shows up to save the day? Get that man a beer and a blowjob.

And while I love it when a man is great with kids...I also think it's incredibly sexy when he's tired of their bullshit cause aren't we all sometimes? 😅

FUZZY GREY NECK? say no more. Also, I'd stand in a three hour long line to wait my turn to ride his thigh like he was the carousel at Disney World. I said what I said.

Hutch. Just Hutch. Everything about the character was sexy. And bless this t-shirt. The shoulders. The arms. The fuzzy neck. The nose. He could 100% talk me into sleeping in that creepy ass cabin and much like Phil, we'd also wake up naked and calling out to God.

Annnd because I feel like it's expected and it does deserve attention, this kiss with Papa E. Listen. Listen. So many fucking onscreen kisses go from 0 to 60 in .000005 seconds. Just immediate face-fucking right out the gate. And IDK about y'all but that shit just isn't enjoyable in real life. Don't assault my fucking face like a Dallas Cowboy's linebacker. 🙃 Ease into it. Warm up. Mr. Evershed will patiently take his time making you so anxiously desperate for more that when he finally does deepen that kiss your lips will be eagerly wet and ready...heh. 🙈

Anyway. 😳 I've been really good about not being thirsty on main anymore and this is still quite tame for me but I'm gonna stop now because this post could go on all night. 🫠

[gonegrove]

Thinking about heather x eddie bc I’m nothing if not a champion of rare pairs in this comm

But just the “god he’s so fucking LAME and CRINGE and EMBARRASSING I need him CARNALLY” energy is so intense. Heather who prides herself in being The Bitch™️ and boasting about how all the boys are thirsty for her but she’s Too Good for them realizing that she wasn’t into popular hot boys because her type was scrawny shaggy haired freaks with awful personalities and a huge gatekeeping streak.

Heather realizing that the only one who can go toe to toe with her in a vaguely toxic and absolutely mean argument about some asinine shit like A Movie or SoCiEtY is Eddie Fucking Munson and it’s also unbelievably erotic to her and being like “i need to kill myself IMMEDIATELY”

Heather and Eddie as Janet and frank n furter in a rocky horror production bc they’re both attention whores, both into music as a Serious Thing and Eddie just loves anything not mainstream and music related so like ofc he went in for it. And the whole thing quickly turns into a 2 man cats the musical orgy energy shitshow bc they both just get TOO INTO PERFORMING. She’s trying to act soooooooooo normal but sadly eddie on stage singing his heart out half naked is literally too erotic for her. The entire crews job turns into just keeping them from screwing back stage like the horny theater kids they are. Good thing too bc she’s always this close to giving him a bj and if she actually did she’d have to walk into the lake never to return.

She’s actively avoiding any place he’s preforming bc she cannot be held responsible for what she might do if she sees him on stage playing guitar and she doesn’t wanna be arrested.

Eddie realizing that the most popular girl in school (I stand by heather being the Main Bitch and Chrissy simply gaining her crown after her death) is HILARIOUSLY INTO HIM. LIKE ANGRY HORNY. And first being like wtf???? Before he sees the opportunity here for Evil and is immediately delighted. Decides it’s open season for revenge of several years of bullying but pointing out to her how she wants him sooooooo bad it makes her look stupid.

Eddie challenging her to read all of Tolkien’s works, and Heather who’s physically incapable of backing down doing it and coming back with notes like “fëanor is RIGHT actually, so is melkor. I cannot believe you like this pansy ass gay apologetics shit what are you catholic??” And he’s both LIVID ON SO MANY LEVELS but also WILDLY AROUSED. There’s just something about a hot popular chick confidently having the most vile takes on his cringe exclusionary nerd shit that gets him hard. He’s horrified by this fact but also knows she wants him bad anyway so like really it’s just a matter of self control and can his self-esteem/pride take it.

All of his friends hate her and he’s like “yeah 😍 me too 😍”

She gets roped into going to/preforming in Some Town Event oblivious to the fact he is too and that’s when she gets arc of the covenant’d with his guitar playing. Mind snaps. Will power gone. He’s the shittiest dude she’s ever met she doesn’t like him AT ALL but sadly he’s also the Perfect Man and she needs him IMMEDIATELY. Legit jumps him the SECOND she can.

The kinda ppl who’ll continue an argument during sex.

Eddie loving every second of little miss rich and popular being soooo down bad for him. Loving having this level of control over someone who’s usually so “out of his league”. Loving how he can turn her brain off and make her shut up like it’s a magic trick.

Eddie slowly realizing there’s parts of heather that she never shows to anyone but he’s gotten a peak of, intentionally or not, and getting kinda possessive of that.

Heather laying on his shitty gross ass bed listening to his music and taking it seriously and talking about it musical artist to musical artist.

Heather calling his dnd group shit like “his pathetic gay loser circle jerk” and he’s just like “baby I’m going to kill you with a brick 😍”

Heather bodily taking over his hair and skin care routine. Even brushing his hair sometimes and explaining it all for when she’s not there and he’s like “lol you know I’m not doing all that”

[claymoresofinfamy23]

Hi! I’m Clay!

My other intro post wasn’t unhinged enough, so I’m making a new one!

Important notes!

I WILL NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES TALK ABOUT POLITICS OR RELIGION. I’m a fandom, music and fanfic ONLY blog. If you’re a minor, you can interact with me, just be aware that I do make NSFW jokes and frequently reblog smutty fanfics. So don’t read those. (It’s not like I can stop you, I’m not your parents. But if you do read them, that’s all on you.)

With that out of the way, go and follow my closest moots! (I love you all, these are just the ones I feel I’m closest to. This list is subject to addition (because I ain’t perfect and I accidentally forget people. Also if you want me to take you off this list, let me know.)

@there-goes-thefighter @mini-rollins @alyyaanna @edgessunflower

Please check out my Meet my OCs and check out my Masterlists!

Meet my OCs! (This is still in progress, haven’t finished making all of them yet.) Masterlist One!

Masterlist Two!

Specialty tags!

2004 Randy Orton: Cutie Patootie🥰

2009 Randy Orton: Unhinged Viper Daddy🐍

Present-day Randy Orton: Viper Daddy💚🐍

Cody Rhodes: My Angel🤍

Seth Rollins: Crazy Vampire❤️

Drew Mcintyre: My favorite Scotsman💙

Damian Priest: Vampire King💜

Roman Reigns: My favorite loser (Affectionate)🩶

Edge/Cope: SpearMaster🔱

AJ Styles: My Werewolf🩵

Darby Allin: SkellyBoy🖤

Dean Winchester: My hunter💕

Jack Kline: Sweet Nephilim🩷

Aaron Warner: Dark Book Boyfriend🖤🖤

Nick Torres: fav agent🫶

Dwight Hendrickson: Chief💛

Duke Crocker: Grey Gull🩶🩶

Johnny “Soap” McTavish: 141 baby🧼

John Reese: chaotic boyfriend🫶🫶

Root and Shaw: chaotic besties👯‍♀️

Thirsty Clay

Clay needs help

Clay speaks

Clay rants

Angry Clay

Play a game with Clay

Clay answers asks!

Clay’s moots!

Clay’s music tastes

Clay likes things other than wrestling

Clay’s OCs.

Meet Clay’s OCs

Luna Nightingale

Cora Callahan

Celestia Sky

Here’s some fun facts about me!

My favorite songs are as follows:

Psycho In My Head- Skillet. (2023)

Dreaming Of Eden- Skillet (2019)

Collide- Skillet (2003)

Assorted songs from skillet’s “Rise” album (2013)

Almost the entire Revolution album by Skillet (2024)

Boulevard Of Broken Dreams- Green Day (2004)

IF IT DOESN’T HURT- Nothing More (2024)

HOUSE ON SAND- Nothing More (2024

Hope it Haunts You- Citizen Soldier (2020)

Make Hate To Me- Citizen Soldier (2020)

When Legends Rise- Godsmack (2018)

End Of Me- Ashes Remain (2011)

Somebody-Memphis May Fire (2021)

Favorite shows: WWE

person of interest (2011-2016)

and Supernatural (2005-2020)

NCIS

Haven (2010-2015)

Other assorted random facts!

I went to the 2023 Royal Rumble that was held in San Antonio, TX.

I’m a southern gal!

I’m ADHD and tend to hyperfixate on things and people and at the moment, I’m hyperfixated on Randy Orton and Edge!

My fics are on wattpad ONLY and are generally 18+ due to dark themes (kidnapping, violence etc) on my main acc BabySquishy0218 and pure smut on my second account WWEgirl24

I’m your local insomniac, and I’m usually up till 2:00-2:30 AM as such, asks and DM’s are always open I’d love to hear from you and there are only two rules for both. As I mentioned, I don’t talk about politics so no asks or DM’s about politics and/or religion and if I receive an ask or DM about these topics I will delete it immediately and if a person continues to send such messages to me, unfortunately, I will have to block them. As for the second rule, please be kind! Allow me to add a side note, if you ask me why I don’t want to talk about politics/religion I will gladly answer that question. Please respect my boundaries. I do not want to block anyone, but this is my safe space and if anyone continues to violate my boundaries after I have politely communicated them, I will have to block them. I love you all, and I hope that we can have fun thirsting over men!

Sincerely,

Clay!