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mrshowlettsgarden · 2 months ago

Note

Prompt number 7 with Logan 🫢

─➭ a/n: ooo, this is a good pick! I also apologize for the week delay; work was kicking my ass. but thank you for the request. I hope you enjoy; this is a long one - kaya <3 (prompt list)

We're Just Friends? - Logan Howlett: the one when you realized it meant more to him that you assumed

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ prompt #7: "Why did you leave me like that back there?" "Because." "Because, what?" "Because your dumbass can't figure out how much it hurts me when you say that we're "just friends."

─➭ content warning: hurt/comfort, miscommunication, friends to lover's trope, suggestive in the end

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It’s Charles' birthday party tonight that Jean and Storm decided to throw for him at the mansion. All the adults were to attend the black-tie shindig along with invited colleagues and so on.

You were excited to have something to dress up for and eat some fancy food unlike the brute man pouting as he leans against your bathroom door.

“I put on the suit that should be enough,” Logan sasses to you, “I ain’t putting on the damn bowtie.”

You roll your eyes as you put the cap back on your lipstick with an aggressive sigh, “Don’t be such a diva, Logan. Wear the bowtie.”

You get goosebumps seeing the dirtiest look he’s ever given to you through the mirror. You’re also fighting for your life to not break out into a fit of laughs. “The fuck did you call me?” he snaps.

You couldn’t hold the laugh any longer and it slips from your lips as the dirty look turns into a pout on his face. Ignoring his question, you walk towards him and grab the bowtie from his hand. Logan has to fight to keep a straight face as your pretty self, inches closer with another step. If he could, he’d pull you in by the waist and take your lipstick off with a kiss.

“It’s for one night. One night only,” you say with pleading eyes, “And women love a bowtie on a man so who knows who you might pull into your bed tonight,” you joke with a smile and wiggling eyebrows.

Logan’s jaw clenches at your words. The only woman he wants to pull tonight is you but he doesn’t think you’d like that, so he shakes the thought away even though it hurts to do so.

You on the other hand wanted to slap yourself in the face for saying that because you just hurt your own feelings. You really don’t want to see Logan and a woman - who isn’t you - clinging to his arm at the end of tonight. Maybe you said that as foreshadowing to help prepare you for the moment that will eventually happen. But you ignore the pang in your heart.

Logan scoffs aggressively as he takes the bowtie back from you and begins tying it himself while looking at the mirror, “Yeah, because that’s the goal I had for myself leading up to tonight,” he says sarcastically while you give him a look of smugness as you watch him finish the tie.

“You look good though,” you say with a small smile as you adjust the tie a little bit.

Logan looks back down to you with a tight-lipped smile. “You look good too, darlin,” he says back in a gentle tone.

And good is an understatement when it comes to you because you look so goddamn breathtaking. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you before today and now he thinks his greatest battle is to not admire you in your dress tonight.

A black form-fitting dress is criminal to wear in front of him because this is his first time seeing the shape of your body and it makes him want to see more for his eyes only. Your heels give you extra height, but you still can’t reach up to him and he finds it endearing.

Why do you have to be so beautiful…

You see him in a daze as he looks at you and you almost think it’s longing. But that's just a wish you have. “Logan? Are you still there?’ you say with a wave to bring him back down to earth.

Logan smiles as he nods, “Where else would I be, huh?” he asks.

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The party started hours ago and it’s still growing strong.

Everyone is laughing, mingling, and dancing the night away. You say it's almost peaceful seeing everyone letting loose from the stress that has been filling up their lives. Everyone, including yourself, needed this. Everyone except Logan.

Such a party pooper…

You walk up to him as he takes a swig of his drink. He looks up at you with a questioning look, expecting you to say whatever it is that’s on your mind.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you get up once other than for a drink,” you say knowingly.

Logan sighs, “At least, I got up instead waving down one of the servers.”

You groan at his words before walking around the table and pulling him up by his arm. “At least be polite and make your rounds to everyone,” you complain, “Then you can sit back down.”

Logan almost laughs at your miserable attempt to get him out of the comfort of his seat. But to save you from the embarrassment of falling on your ass, he sighs and gets up. “Only if you stay with me. We’re both suffering together,” he says almost pridefully as he moves your hand to wrap around his arm.

Your face turns into a heater feeling his muscles along the expanse of his arms. You could only imagine how safe you’d feel having both arms wrapped around your body securely. At least you can bask in the moment a little longer before it gets taken away.

You stay on Logan’s arm as you both say your hellos and how are you’s. You can’t deny that it feels good to have him this close to you. And he can’t deny how comforting it is to be under your touch. He hasn't felt this relaxed in years. The more time he spends having you hold onto him like this only hurts him a lot more. Because the moment gets taken away every single time, he hears you say “we’re just friends” in nearly every conversation.

“Oh no! We just came here as friends!”

“You’re too funny! We’re just friends.”

And he swore he heard somebody comment about how he’s like a fucking brother to you??

Now that one really started to boil his blood.

Yes, you are friends. Best friends if anything but it will never hurt less to hear you say those three words. Those words are like that one annoying tune that is stuck on replay all night. Every person or group of people you both have gone up to have made comments or asked questions if you guys came to the party together. And just like the first time you were asked up till the last time, you were way too quick to shoot them down with “we're just friends”.

After all the last couple of years since he’s been around you hopelessly thinking you’d catch onto his longing stares, lingering touches, and being by your side during missions, he thought eventually you’ll get the hint. Tonight is showing him that you won’t ever reciprocate his feelings back. He’s been shot, stabbed and you can name the rest, but this emotional pain is burning at him from the inside and out. He’s starting not to be able to take your stinging words any longer.

Finally, all the rounds were made when you both made your way to Jean and Storm sitting at one of the tables. “I didn’t think you were actually able to get him out of that chair, Y/n,” Jean laughs.

“You made him into a social butterfly,” Storm snickers as Logan pulls out one of the chairs for you.

You giggle at their comments while Logan scoffed out a “whatever” and looked away from you three as he took a seat. He can feel his hurt turning to anger right now and he’s trying really hard not to show it. He gently removes your arm from his as he waves a server down for a drink. Sensing something is off you’re about to ask him if he’s okay, but Storm beats you from talking.

“You guys looked good out there though. Like a cute married couple,” she smiles as Jean nodded in agreement.

If only they and Logan knew how much you don’t oppose the idea of being married to him, but you could only laugh it off. That’s what you’ve been doing nearly all night as you and Logan made the rounds. You don’t think you’ve ever sounded like a broken record player having to repeat that you guys are purely platonic. You were just hoping that Logan wouldn’t start causing a scene when you heard him nearly growl every time you started talking. He seemed so tense too, more than usual but you thought it was because you were dragging him around to talk to people he wasn’t interested in.

Which is why you would turn down the comments about you and Logan dating because you didn’t think that he’d enjoy that type of conversation about you but boy, were you so wrong.

“Please, don’t make me repeat it again,” you playfully groan out with a laugh, “I don’t know how much I can take having to explain that I won’t ever see Logan that way-”

SLAM!!

You and the girls jump from the startling sound of Logan slamming his drink on the table then watch him storming off his chair and into the mansion. Stunned by his actions you look down at the glass and see that it had cracked from the force then look back at him walking away. You go after Logan without thinking, “I’ll go check on him,” you say as you speed off your chair in worried haste.

Where did that come from? And why is he walking away so fast? He’s already made it inside the house in less than thirty seconds. Your feet hurt enough already from the heels, but you caught up to him as he was about to make his way upstairs.

“Logan!” you call as you pick up your pace a little more, but he ignores you, “Ugh! Logan!”

“What?” he snapped at you with a venomous tone.

You nearly cower at his nasty attitude towards you. He’s never talked to you like that before and you begin to feel uneasy about being the target of his rage. "What’s wrong? Why did you leave like that?” you ask as you follow him up the stairs. You're only two steps behind him.

“Because.” he continues walking with bigger strides.

“Because??” you repeat. You’re starting to get irritated with his attitude, “Because, what? Logan would you please slow dow-”

“Because I can’t fucking stand that your dumbass can't figure out how much it hurts me when you say that we're "just friends!!” he yells as he turns around to give you his full rage.

You stood there frozen and stunned by his words and also at the fact that he yelled at you louder this time too. You feel yourself start to shrink from his voice. You couldn’t think to get a word in before he interrupted you once more.

“How much longer should I have to deal with the fact that you only see me as your friend and nothing more, Y/n! You’re walkin’ around telling people down there that I’m only your friend and you were just telling Storm and Jean that you won’t ever see me more than that!” he shouts at you with a face full of hurt and anger, “Why haven’t you realized that I love you. That I’ve been in love with you. Y/n!”

Your heart stopped for a second hearing him say that. There are too many whirlwinds of emotions going on right now. It’s hard for you to fully grasp the fact that he just confessed to you. Logan Howlett confessed to you. Looking at him you realize that maybe he’s also realizing that he confessed too with how his eyes widened.

You both stand there on the staircase in ear piercing silence as Logan pants from his rage. He rips his eyes off of you as he runs a hand down his face in stress. He looks so hurt right now. Your eyes are beginning to tear up from being the reason why he’s so hurt. But he needs to know that you feel the same way.

After a minute of silence and trying to find your words, you softly but hesitantly speak up. “Logan…,” you shakingly call his name as you step forward. You’re about to reach for his hand but he steps back away from you.

“No,” he interrupted you while shaking his head. He doesn’t want to hear your rejection right now. He’s so angry at himself for letting his feelings for you drag on for this long. And he confessed to you in a way he never imagined he would. “Just forget I said anything. I’m done.”

Done…?

With that he storms off again much faster than before up to his room. Leaving you behind to swallow his words more. He loves you. How could that be? You swore he felt the complete opposite after all this time. He said he was done too. Done with you?

While his words were finally settling in, you didn’t realize the tears had fallen down your cheeks. He loves you and then tells you he’s done. After all this time you thought he couldn’t see you that way, especially when he first arrived, he had a thing for Jean. But now, after his days of visiting you in the greenhouse, waiting for you in the hallway to get coffee in the mornings, and so much more… You’ve blind to his advancements. Even the way he talks to you is different from how he usually is and you didn’t realize that till he started yelling at you five minutes ago.

You let out a shaky sigh to stop the sobs from slipping.

God, you feel so stupid.

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It’s been a couple weeks since the party and the last time you saw, let alone talked to Logan.

You’ve never felt so lonely in the greenhouse by yourself and not having him there listening to you rant about whatever plant or lecture you need to get off your chest. You miss feeling his presence around you - the smell of his cigar, his teasing, his oddly comforting words that he held only for you… You miss him so much, but he wants nothing to do with you anymore.

The morning after the party you waited for him in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, but he never came. You tried knocking on his door a couple times after that when you wouldn’t see him but no answer. You knew he was in there counting from the energy you feel from the plant you jokingly gave him as a present, but you didn’t want to push him more. You also never failed to notice the way he would avoid you around the mansion. While the home was huge, you still saw him from a far and he’d walk away after your first glance in his direction.

So, you gave him what he wanted. Space.

And here you are sitting on one of the lounge chairs in the greenhouse at two in the morning. You couldn’t sleep or you haven’t been able to sleep without hearing Logan’s loud voice repeating his words in your head. The only thing that’s soothing you is the soft sound of the fountain that you’re sitting in front of. You stare at the lily pads floating in the water as you keep blinking back to that night Logan confessed. Would you call it a confession if he did it angrily? If he only would’ve stayed for thirty seconds longer, he would know that you love him too.

Logan was sitting in the kitchen nursing on a bottle of soda since the damn house doesn’t have any beer or form of alcohol. God, he could use several of them right now to get what happened out of his head. He let his hurt turn into anger when he yelled out his love for you. He’s never felt so embarrassed doing that especially after seeing the look of shock and hurt on your face too.

He just couldn’t stop the wave of emotions leaving his mouth in the form of words. He needed to get it off his chest after the number of times he was friend-zoned by you in one night. After he ditched you on the stairs to go into his room, he’ll admit that he felt a little lighter knowing that he finally told you how he feels but the weight came back when he started avoiding you.

With how hard you were trying to get him to talk to you it just made him feel worse. Yes, he’s choosing to avoid you, but it doesn’t hurt him any less. He’d do anything to talk to you again, but he thinks nothing will be the same anymore, hence the reason for avoiding you. Again, he’s also embarrassed for throwing a tantrum on the stairs as he angrily declared his love for you.

He still can’t believe he did that…

Logan frustratingly sighs as he chugs the rest of his drink as he gets up from his sitting. Maybe a walk will help. He needs to shake his feelings off and deal with the fact that he can’t come back from his confession.

He zips his jacket up from the chill of the night as he steps out into the backyard and begins his walk.

Nothing is heard other than silence as he furthers into the yard. He begins to get lost in thought as you come back into his mind. The way you looked scared from his rising voice to the sudden look of surprise when he said he loved you. Fuck, he still loves you despite the fact he hasn’t seen much of you the last two weeks. He misses you a lot.

“Damnit,” he mutters under his breath as he irritatedly kicks a pinecone out of his way.

Logan continues to walk with no destination until he suddenly stops in his tracks to see the lights on in the greenhouse. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion because he knows how late it is and he knows you’re in there by yourself. But why are you in there and how long have you been in there? He ponders for a bit as he stares at the warm lights illuminating the glass walls.

He stands there for a minute or two longer then makes his way to the double doors of the greenhouse. Usually when he or anyone walks up, you’d feel their presence and have the plants open the doors, but nothing happens. He looks around at the plants that surround the door to see if any of them move. But nothing, they’re still. He doesn’t sense any danger, but something is definitely off.

He opens the doors without thinking and walks inside to find you.

It’s eerily quiet inside as he walks around. He sniffs the air to smell for you and walks over to one of the fountains to where it leads to you. Your head is peeking out from the other side of the lounge chair, but you still haven't moved. He carefully walks around to find you curled up against the armrest sleeping. You look cozy and at peace if he wouldn’t have noticed the dry tear marks along your cheeks.

His face turns into a look of regret instantly. Avoiding you was just him hurting both of your feelings with no end goal behind it. He was beginning to feel stupid and childish about this whole ordeal. How he feels about you shouldn’t be the end of the bond that you guys already had with each other.

Besides tear marks, Logan also noticed the bags under your eyes as he kneeled down to be face to face with you. He sighs softly and brings the back of his hand to gently wipe the tear marks off your face. Your cheeks feel cold to the touch. You should be asleep in the comfort of your bed right now where it's warmer. So, Logan sucks up his feelings to wake you up.

The hand that was on your cheek moves down to your arm and starts to soothingly rub your arm up and down. “Y/n,” he whispers, “Wake up.”

You barely stir and it makes him want to laugh because you're such a heavy sleeper. So, he moves you a bit more and your eyebrows begin to furrow in irritation. For once you were sleeping somewhat well and you’re being woken up. You hear Logan’s voice, but you think it's just a dream until you hear him clearer the more you wake up.

“Logan?’ you murmured as your eyes began to open.

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me,” he whispers back to you, “Let's get you back to bed.”

You lock eyes with his soft gaze, and you’ve never felt more relieved to see and feel him this close to him. You sit up instantly, “Hi…” you say to him.

He smiles softly a stary strand of hair away from your face, “Hey… You shouldn’t be sleeping here alone, you know.”

You nodded as you rub the sleepiness away from your eyes as you look away from him. “I haven’t been able to sleep,” you said. Logan hums in response and silence settles for a moment between you two. You bite your bottom lip nervously as you start to think of what to say but you cower from the thought thinking that he won’t listen to you like before. You move your eyes to look at him, but you realize that he was still looking at you.

Logan couldn’t take his eyes off of you since he found you asleep. It feels like he hasn’t seen you for months to almost a lifetime. If you only knew how much you have molded yourself into his mind since day one. He sees how nervous you are right now from the way you’re looking back at him. He’s about to apologize for his outburst but you beat him to it.

“I love you, Logan.”

Wait what?

A look of shock was thrown onto his face, but you interrupted him again. “I-If you would have stayed longer, I would’ve had the chance to say it back to you,” you stammer softly, “And I’m so sorry for hurting your feelings during the party. I swear, I-I thought that I was saving you from the conversations that I had dragged you to. I’m so sorry.”

You feel the tears fall again with how fast your eyes are building them up. You missed him too much and he needs to know this time that you've always felt the same way. You’re about to continue apologizing but Logan cups one of your cheeks with his warm hand. You feel his thumb wipe a tear and it makes you hold his hand with yours while you nuzzle your cheek further into his touch.

"I missed you, Logan...," you shakingly sigh out.

"I missed you too, darlin'"

Relieved tears fell while Logan came closer to rest his forehead against yours. You feel so comforted to have him this close again. You run your hand up his chest to lure him closer.

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs under your touch, “I was mad at myself and took it out on you. I didn’t mean to scare you either. I…I love you so much.”

You feel his lips brush so lightly against yours, it makes you pull away slightly to look back at him again. You don't think words can describe how much you need him impossibly close to you right now, it's making you needy for him. Your eyes move down to his lips then back up to his hazel ones.

“Kiss me, Lo-”

You didn’t have to finish the damn sentence because his lips met yours in an instant. Like hell he was going to walk away again now. A warm feeling blossoms in your chest as he pulls you closer to him with both of his arms around you to make you wrap your legs around his waist. Logan nearly groans, feeling you pressed against his body. The smell of the soft eucalyptus scent of your conditioner was making him dizzy but only made him crave for you more.

You feel him pull you toward him more before getting up from his kneeled position near fluently with you in his arms. You gasped out a laugh at his brute strength and he smirked smugly.

“Show off…,” you say blissfully.

Logan chuckles as goes back in for another kiss, “You’ll learn to love it, sweetheart.”

You smile as you shyly bite your lips hearing him call you that. You couldn’t help yourself and went in for another kiss. Your bodies heatedly pressed together as you cupped both sides of his cheeks making him part his lips just enough for you to slip your tongue inside his mouth. Logan didn’t stop himself from sinking into your embrace despite holding you in his arms.

You both lose your thoughts, getting lost into the comfort of the kiss. It felt so natural to have each other this close and it makes you wonder why it took so long for you both to get to this moment. And neither of you were planning on stopping it. You want more of him and he wants more of you. The ache you feel in your core is calling for more of his touch.

You force yourself to pull away and you feel him chase after your lips. “Fuck, baby. Why’da stop?’ you can hear how desperate he is for you right now and it and it makes you smile.

“Take me to bed Lo…,” you whisper against his lips, “I need to feel more of you.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice because he instantly tossed you over his shoulder making you squeal out a laugh.

“Let’s go then, pretty girl.”

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ialreadymadeyouapromise · 27 days ago

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𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄.

PAIRING: arthur morgan x fem!reader WARNINGS: shameless flirting, no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: into you - ariana grande WORD COUNT: 1.8k

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life in the van der linde gang had a way of skewing your sense of normal. when scheming, looting, and solving arguments with fists or bullets were part of daily life, "morality" became more of a suggestion than a rule.

you weren’t exactly a beacon of righteousness yourself, but you liked to think you were the sanest one in the camp.

not that anyone appreciated it. when you pointed out the ridiculousness of dutch’s insane plans or when you tried to keep fights from erupting during yet another round of whiskey-fueled shouting, you’d get nothing but side eyes or snark for your trouble.

it was a thankless role, but there was one shining consolation was arthur morgan.

at first, you hadn’t thought much of him beyond his reputation. a quiet, rough edged outlaw who could silence a room just by walking into it. but the more time you spent around him, the more you started noticing things.

the way his voice softened when he spoke to jack. the way he’d carry supplies for the women without them asking. the way he’d sit by the fire after everyone had gone to bed, looking like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders but refusing to let it break him.

oh, and the way he looked.

because damn, arthur morgan was walking, breathing eye candy. the kind of man you’d dreamt about long before you’d ever laid eyes on him. the scruff, the broad shoulders, those hands that made you imagine things no one in camp should ever hear about.

when he worked under the sun, his shirt clinging to every defined line of muscle, it took everything in you not to stand there gawking at him.

and sometimes you did, forgetting to mask the blatant admiration on your face. it wasn’t just his looks. though those certainly didn’t hurt, it was the way he carried himself. every movement, every glance, a natural, effortless charm that hit you square in the chest.

you tried to be subtle about it at first, stealing glances when he wasn’t looking, marvelling at the sharp lines of his jaw or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. but eventually, all pretense of subtlety flew right out the window.

how could it not, when he looked like that and acted like that?

of course, you told yourself that no one had noticed. surely everyone was too caught up in their own drama to care about your embarrassingly obvious crush. but one day, when you caught yourself staring as arthur tightened the straps on his saddle, completely transfixed by the veins in his forearms, you felt his eyes flick toward you.

the heat shot up your neck as you whipped your head away, but it was too late.

arthur had noticed. and from the way his lips twitched into a knowing smirk, it wasn’t the first time.

one evening, arthur sat by the fire, cleaning his guns. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing strong forearms dusted with just the right amount of sun kissed grit to make you lose focus. it was practically an invitation – or so you told yourself.

you strolled over, plopping down beside him with a grin.

"y’know, arthur,” you began, your voice low and undeniably flirtatious, “it’s almost unfair how good you look doing anything.” you let your gaze linger on him, smirking when he stiffened slightly. “honestly, it’s damned distracting.”

arthur paused mid clean, raising an eyebrow as he glanced your way. “what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“oh, don’t play coy,” you shot back, letting your eyes wander, not even pretending to be subtle. your gaze lingered just long enough on his body to make him shift slightly. “i’m just saying, it’s downright criminal. the rest of us don’t even stand a chance.”

his jaw tensed, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve pushed too far. but then his ears turned pink, and he ducked his head back to his gun, muttering, “you’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“i like to think so,” you said brightly, leaning back on your hands. “i mean, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

arthur huffed, a soft laugh slipping out despite himself. he set his gun down for a moment, leaning back slightly to look at you. “keep this up, and i’m gonna start thinkin’ you like me or somethin’.”

the words hung in the air, his tone teasing, but the way his eyes searched your face said there was more to it.

you didn’t bother denying it. instead, you met his gaze with a slow, deliberate smirk, shrugging one shoulder like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

arthur blinked, his confident facade faltering for just a second as his ears flushed a deeper red. he muttered something low under his breath, shaking his head as he turned back to his gun, but not before you caught the way his lips curved into an almost bashful smile.

the members in camp started to notice it too.

one afternoon, you were helping pearson unload some supplies when karen sidled up to you with a sly grin.

“still gonna tell me you’re not sweet on him?” she whispered, jerking her chin toward arthur, who was saddling his horse across camp.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied, deliberately watching arthur as he worked. the way his hands handled the leather straps with practiced ease was — god, was it warm out here, or was it just you?

“uh huh,” karen snorted, a smirk tugging at her lips. “and you’re about as subtle as they come, huh?”

across camp, arthur looked up, catching your stare. you didn’t even bother pretending you weren’t watching. instead, you gave him a slow wave.

he squinted at you, shook his head, and muttered something under his breath before going back to his work.

the real kicker came when you joined arthur on a supply run. the two of you were riding side by side, the silence comfortable until you decided to break it.

“so,” you started, grinning, "how does it feel to be so damn hot?" you asked, your tone playful as you gave him a teasing look. "must be a real struggle."

arthur groaned, tipping his head back toward the sky. “for the love of – will you stop?”

“stop what?” you asked innocently.

“all the... whatever this is,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.

“flirting?” you offered. “admiring? honestly, i think i’m being pretty restrained.”

arthur gave you a flat look, but the twitch of his lips betrayed him. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, here you are, riding with me,” you shot back, leaning forward on your saddle with a grin.

arthur sighed, shaking his head. “yeah, well, somebody’s gotta keep you outta trouble.”

it turned into a full time occupation. flirting with arthur morgan like it was your god given purpose. subtlety was a distant memory. why be coy when you could see that little twitch in arthur’s eye, that helpless smirk he tried to fight every time you laid it on thick?

one morning, you caught him sitting by the fire, patching a tear in his shirt. you strutted over, planting yourself in the seat next to his, “arthur, can i ask you a question?” you blinked up at him.

“go ahead…” he turns his full attention to you now. “do you have a map?”

he goes to answer, about to start searching his pocket until you speak up, “cause i think i just got lost in your eyes.”

arthur froze, his jaw tightening. he glanced up at you, then down at the shirt, his face already turning red. “you ever get tired of talkin’ nonsense?”

“not when it’s about you,” you shot back. “you’re my favorite topic.”

he sighed, shaking his head. “you’re gonna give me a headache.”

“i’ll kiss it better,” you said without missing a beat, leaning into his space.

arthur gave you a look, half-exasperated, half-amused, but the twitch of his lips betrayed him.

“you’re somethin’ else.”

“and you’re somethin’ fine,” you quipped, giving him a wink.

later that day, you spotted him chopping wood near the edge of camp. the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, muscles flexing with every swing of the axe. it was almost cinematic, the way the sunlight hit his sweat slick skin.

“arthur morgan!” you hollered, startling him mid swing. he set the axe down, turning to face you with a wary look.

“what now?” he grumbled, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

“you’re gonna need to start carrying a warning sign,” you said, sauntering over with a grin.

“danger to hearts within a hundred mile radius.”

arthur snorted, leaning on the axe handle. “you need help, y’know that?”

“oh, i’ve got a problem, alright,” you agreed, gesturing dramatically at him. “how is anyone supposed to focus when you’re walking around looking like that?”

he pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about needing a drink.

“you can’t run from this,” you teased, following him back toward camp. “your hotness is a public safety hazard, arthur. i’m just trying to raise awareness.”

the next morning, you found him saddling his horse. he’d just come back from a job, dust clinging to his shirt, his hat tipped low. you leaned against a nearby post, arms crossed as you watched him work.

“you look good dirty, morgan,” you drawled, smiling when he stiffened.

arthur turned, leveling you with a flat stare. “ain’t you got somethin’ better to do?”

“absolutely not,” you said, grinning. “admiring you is a full time job.”

he shook his head, muttering under his breath as he tightened the saddle.

“i’m serious,” you continued, stepping closer. “you’re like a fine work of art – rugged, mysterious, impossible to ignore. if i had a lick of talent, i’d paint you.”

arthur paused, one hand on the saddle, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “you’re unbelievable.”

“unbelievably smitten,” you corrected, giving him a cheeky grin. “so, what do you say, cowboy? you gonna let me take you out on a real date, or are you just gonna keep pretending you don’t enjoy all this attention?”

for a moment, arthur just stared at you, his lips twitching like he was fighting a smile. then he leaned on the saddle, tipping his hat back to look at you properly.

“you ain’t gonna quit, are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

“not a chance,” you replied, stepping even closer.

arthur sighed, a soft chuckle escaping him. “alright, fine. but if i say yes, you gotta promise to quit with all the hollerin’ about how ‘pretty’ i am in front of the whole damn camp.”

you grinned, holding out your hand. “deal.”

he took your hand, shaking it firmly. “you’re really are somethin’ else, darlin’.”

“and don’t you forget it,” you said, winking at him.

arthur laughed, shaking his head as he mounted his horse. “god help me.”

you watched him get onto his horse and ride off, already plotting your next move.

subtle or not, you were winning this man over one shameless compliment at a time.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᯓ★

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daddysclownboy · 2 months ago

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marylily but it's mary, watching lily from afar and wondering why she feels something she's never felt before.

mary clinging to Sirius like a lifeline even though she knows that she can never love him and he can never love her, because what else can she do?

Mary, kissing lily in a game of truth or dare and realising just how much she's always wanted to do that.

Mary and lily, after the party, alone in the corridor and kissing like they'll never stop, kissing so many times afterwards, even though mary has sirius and she knows that he should be enough.

mary, holding back tears as lily tells her they should stop- it's not right to lie to sirius and their friends, neither girl realising the other feels the same way, each believing the other was only with them as an experiment.

mary, loving lily, never stopping loving her even as lily falls out of love and tells mary about james- james who she likes, even though she's always hated him so much.

mary, always so supportive, because she'd do anything for lily, cheering her on even as her heart rips to shreds, watching she and james kiss like the girls never could- like sirius and remus will never be able to- so so jealous and angry but never angry at lily, because how could she ever be?

mary, barely remembering anything from before the fighting and the death, crying when she hears the news or her friends death, safe only in the knowledge that lily, her lily is still safe, even though they barely speak anymore, and all she has left of her are faded photographs and memories of soft lips and green eyes and kindness.

mary, hiding away- hating herself more and more each day for leaving the only people she ever loved behind, hating james and marlene and even sirius for fighting still, but never, ever hating lily.

mary, numb, so numb, crying and laughing and screaming when she hears the news. she can't even hate him- the man she loved like a brother, the man who made her feel like she wasn't alone, the man who turned out to be just like everything he tried to run from- because all she feels is empty, everything that held her to this earth gone in a flash of green. although, maybe not everything.

mary, running like her life depends on it, because it does really, scooping up the baby in her arms and refusing to look at the woman lying beside him, scared of how her love would look now that she can no longer smile, leaving the house and the man who claimed to love lily, but never did, not like mary could, and the man who did love her, but couldn't save her in the end.

mary, frantic as she runs, sobbing and broken into the arms of a man who watched as everyone she ever loved died, needing to cry out and hit but never doing so, because she couldn't spoil the baby like that, not when he was lily's.

mary, never again thinking of red hair and the smell of apple blossom, never again thinking of stars and records and magic, never again remembering the boy who lived, alive for his mother- the only one mary ever truly loved, never again really living, as the man muttered a spell and everything was forgotten as though it never meant a thing.

mary, who survived, unlike the rest, but who never truly breathed again, because how could she live without lily, without her warmth and light and beauty, without her memories.

mary, who lived longer than the rest, but died that night on halloween, as she was always meant to from the moment she fell in love.

#i fear i may be becoming obsessed with this ship #especially when it isn't endgame and dumbledore obliviates mary because i just need some good old fashioned angst #marylily #dead gay wizards #marauders era #mary macdonald #lily evans #marauders

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linkspooky · 3 months ago

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If there's a next time, maybe I'll change how I live...

Sukuna's last moment in the manga ends with him accepting that his loss, and showing even the strongest of all time Sukuna, someone powerful enough to do what he wants, when he wants, could not only lose but he could be wrong. This is something considering that you could make an argument that the entire manga, and sorcerer society as a whole is shaped around Sukuna's morality of the pursuit of selfish desire and strength of all else. In fact someone else argues it right here.

What led to this journey of the most irredeemable character in the comics who lived only for selfish pleasure acknowledging the love he rejected in the end? Well, we'll cover that under the cut.

The Cycle

Before analyzing Shinjuku as a whole, I want to start with its conclusion. I'll first break down the final moment in Sukuna's character arc, and then go back to the start and analyze how we got there. That being said, let's get on with it.

Sukuna loss begins with him contradicting his own nature. I'll explain what I mean by this. If you read the thread above, detective_critics observes characters like Sukuna who live for themselves and characters who embody Sukuna's ideals like Gojo are rewarded in the manga whereas characters like Yuji who fight primarily for others are punished relentlessly.

This is well supported by Yuji's continual losses throughout the manga. Yuji swallows Sukuna's fingers in order to permanently execute Sukuna and stop future people from being harmed by curses, but because of Yuji's decision to swallow the finger thousands die in Shibuya. Yuji's desire to save others only seems to backfire and he's continually presented with those he can't save, Junpei, Nanami, Nobara. He's even robbed of his own purpose of being Sukuna's vessel when Sukuna takes Megumi's body instead.

I mostly agree with this idea that the manga rewards people more true to their desires like Sukuna and Gojo, but I'd like to add an addendum that the manga doesn't specifically reward selfishness, but rather self-actualization.

To backtrack slightly, Sukuna observes that many sorcerers in the past have faced him but they didn't truly believe in their ideals the way that Yuji did. Yuji is punished by the narrative yes, but he's not unceremoniously killed off the way that Toji, and Mahito are. Rather, Yuji's durability, his ability to cling to life instead of just dying off like Sukuna suggests weak people should do comes from the fact that his ideal is unshakable.

Let's look at Sukuna's words a little more closely. He says that many sorcerers killed him in the past and they all had different ideals, but none of them truly believed in their ideals. Because Sukuna could so easily point out how their idealism was false he came to think of all ideals as worthless. This is shown in the way that he easily picks apart both Gojo and Hajime, two characters who lose because they ultimately don't believe in their own ideals. Sukuna is very easily able to point out the hypocrisy in both of them.

Sukuna basically points out that Kashimo and Gojo were both happy to bully anyone who came near them, they'll throw around their power all they like and revel in their own superiority and then go back and complain about being lonely. A classic case of wanting to have your cake and eat it too, or as Sukuna said they were being greedy. They were the ones who rejected everyone around them, they were the ones who rejected the love they were shown, and yet they put the blame on everyone else.

Gojo even in death acts like everyone else is a flower, an inferior being incapable of understanding him. Yet, a few panels later he says that the fight with Sukuna the only person who rivaled him in strength and therefore shouldn't be able to understand him didn't satisfy him, and he would only have been satisfied if Geto were there.

These two statements contradict each other. The thing is, Gojo has at this point long surpassed Geto in strength. People often clown Geto on the fact that he never had a domain expansion, and that Kenjaku seemed to use his cursed technique far better than he ever could. Geto is someone who's far behind Gojo in strength, and yet he's the one who could satisfiy Gojo, not Sukuna. Which means Gojo was the one who was wrong. Gojo was betraying his ideals. He believed he was living to be the strongest, that he was satisfied being the strongest while all along wanting something else and it's that contradiction that killed him.

Let me make a brief comparison to another manga. Aizen from Bleach is a character with a god complex to rival Gojo's, and just like Gojo exists on a different level of power than everyone else. He is not only the strongest soul reaper, but one of the smartest, and has been isolated by that strength since he was a child. Aizen then believes that he needs to become god, because it's his right as a naturally superior being, but Aizen is a fraud.

Aizen loses becuase the hogyoku the source of his power rejected him right as he seemed to be at the peak of his power. However, Ichigo reflects that maybe the Hogyoku didn't reject him. The Hogyoku is in plot, a wish granting macguffin, that grants your subconscious desire. Ichigo speculates that maybe Aizen didn't truly want to ascend to godhood, but rather he wanted someone like Ichigo to defeat him. That he wanted an equal like Ichigo so he wouldn't have to be alone on the top anymore. Aizen not being fully aware of this desire and clinging to his sense of superiority instead, the very thing that makes him lonely is what causes him to lose. Aizen is cut down by Ichigo, and instead of becoming a god he becomes just another soul reaper.

Sukuna cuts through Gojo by cutting through the world, bypassing the infinity, and therefore making him just like everyone else. Just as Aizen wished to be just another soul reaper, Gojo becomes just another sorcerer now that his position of the strongest has been taken by Sukuna.

So Gojo's loss came when he betrayed his ideals. His stated ideal of "I am the strongest", but this was contradicted by what he really wanted which was the time of his life when him and Geto together said "We are the Strongest." Strength didn't satisfy him, but rather it was Geto and Gojo's inability to realize the real reason he was fighting leads to his loss.

The manga doesn't reward selfishness, but rather self-actualization. Characters with a strong sense of self are just more likely to be self-actualized, because they possess a deep sense of self awareness.

Sukuna at least is self-aware. He knows you can't be the strongest, to relentlessly bully others with your power and yet want to be close to other people too. He knows that's wanting to have your cake and eat it too, so he rejects love. Sukuna knows you can't have it both ways, so he decides I don't need love, love won't satisfy me, I'll live only to be the strongest.

My main example of a character betraying their ideals is Toji though.

Toji moves to face a newly awakened Gojo. He has not only a solid plan to fight him, curse tools that can penetrate his infinity, but he's also got inside knowledge of the Limitless. Toji believes he can win, and yet at the same time he feels uneasy.

As he died, Toji reflects that the reason he died is because he deviated from his true self. He believed that he was jumping from job to job, just working for money. That he didn't care about the sorcerer world. He killed sorcerers, got paid, and then gambled it all away.

Yet, when he was faced with the pinnacle of Jujutsu his motivation changed from living to fulfill his own selfish desires, to revenge. Toji wasn't as over the way the Zen'in Clan rejected him as he thought he was. He needed to defeat Gojo in order to affirm himself, and the moment he betrayed his own ideals like that he lost.

Now this moment can be directly paralleled back to Sukuna, who feels a similiar unease the entire time that he's fighting Yuji, an unease that makes him more and more irrational over the course of the fight.

Sukuna betrays his ideals in two ways, one that he's never once cared what other sorcerers think and say and lives only for himself and two that he is merely killing time before he dies. The first leads to his breakdown over the fight as he tries to crush Yuji, but finds himself unable to. The second is as I said above the final nail in the coffin.

When faced with a stronger opponent, or rather opponents as the sorcerers of the modern era all work together to trump the sorcerer of the golden age of sorcerery Sukuna doesn't accept his death. In his last moments he's clinging desperately to Megumi, trying to keep living in his body. At which point Megumi remarks that even someone like Sukuna must fear death too.

You could connect this to Mahito too. Many people even said that Sukuna got the Mahito treatment. Both characters lived freely slaughtering everyone else, and yet when they are about to be killed they try and run away from it. This is obviously deliberate as not only do the words "You are Me' parallel "I am you" but Sukuna's last moment in the manga is a conversation with Mahito.

Mahito also betrayed his ideal. Number one curses don't truly die, Jogo and Hanami and Dagan all accept their deaths because they'll be reborn as different curses but they'll always come back. However, Mahito clings to his own existence. Mahito is also not true to his nature, because he longs to be a true curse, but Mahito is also the most human curse. He's the representative of the fear and hate humans have for one another, and he spends his last moments terrified of the human being known as Yuji Itadori.

Which is why Mahito is appropriate to have this final conversation with Sukuna. Mahito calls out the way Sukuna betrayed his ideals. Sukuna always believed he was only living to satisfy himself and he didn't care what others thought, but Mahito points out that he was really living for revenge towards the people who rejected that unlovable wretch. Sukuna wasn't rejecting people because he was a god towering far above others, but because he had been rejected and hated in the past and then decided to hate them in turn.

However, unlike Mahito Sukuna is able to grow up so to speak. Mahito doesn't want to be anything else but Sukuna comes to the realization that you can choose your nature. That the decision to hate and reject everyone was a choice, and that he can choose a different path in another life.

You define who you are, that is the literal definition of self actualization. So we see Sukuna having become enlightened about himself escape the cycle, whereas Mahito who's still a curse is still trapped in that cycle. Something that Mahito complains about, that he's just a child unable to grow up while even Sukuna has changed.

Escaping the Cycle

Now that I've shown you how Sukuna has changed, I'm going to go over all of Shinjuku to describe the events that led to this change. This change is brought about everyone, but most of all by Yuji Itadori someone who unlike Sukuna reached self-realization. Yuji is the one who remains true to himself, whereas Sukuna who has only lived for himself is the one who betrays himsellf in the end.

The first hint that Sukuna may not entirely believe his own words comes in his conversation with Kashimo. Sukuna lives for his own self-satisfaction, other people exist for him to amuse himself until he dies. Since he's a complete being who doesn't need anyone else to satisfy him, since he's satisfied then why did he need to divide himself into twenty parts and keep living after death.

Sukuna doesn't answer this quesiton, but rather just continues on with his monologue. If life to Sukuna is just killing time until he dies then why does he go above and beyond to prolong his life? Why not accept his natural death?

Then after quickly dispatching Higuruma, Sukuna finds himself unsatisfied. Even though he was doing exactly what Kashimo told him, he was tasting an interesting sorcerer and swallowing him whole.

Sukuna doesn't feel satisfied in his victory. At first he thinks it's just because Higuruma lost too early, and then he realizes that his current disatisfaction comes from Yuji. Sukuna doesn't care what others think, he hates the concept of ideals themselves, at yet the same time Yuji holding an unbreakable ideal bothers him. If Sukuna is being true to himself, then he shouldn't care what Yuji believes in.

Yet, Sukuna changes for the first time in a thousand years. He acquires a new ideal and that's killing every sorcerer present and then initating the merger. Something that Kusakabe even notes is out of character for Sukuna. He thought Sukuna wouldn't have a need to start the merger, he doesn't care about big picture things like Kenjaku he just wants to strong opponent.

Sukuna begins to drift further and further from his nature because of Yuji over the course of the fight. As I said Sukuna shouldn't have to fight Yuji to prove that Yuji's ideal is wrong. If he rejects all ideologies then he shouldn't even care. Yet the things that set Sukuna off the most in the fight, the things that motivate him to fight the hardest to crush his enemy are people like Yuji and Maki who challenge his beliefs. Yuji by fighting for others instead of himself, and Maki by rejecting cursed energy entirely and instead having a strong body to fight.

Sukuna who is supposed to be completely satisfied with himself, has something to prove when fighting against these opponents. We learn that Yuji isn't just some boring child like Sukuna suggested. He's actually made from the other half of Sukuna's soul. Rather, Sukuna rejected his twin and ate him in the womb. All of his superiority as a sorcerer, his four arms, the mouth on his stomach comes from this. However, that twin didn't disappear, he reincarnated and mated with Kenjaku to produce Yuji.

So Sukuna is Yuji's uncle technically, but symbolically, Yuji is the other half of his soul. The half that Sukuna rejected. How can Sukuna be someone at peace with all of himself, if he rejects half of himself? It goes along with what Mahito said, Sukuna didn't reject others because he was compeltely satisfied with living alone, but because of revenge. He was born a malformed retch and never shown love so he rejected all forms of love.

Sukuna is not at ease with himself because he's not whole. Yuji represents the love that Sukuna rejectected. Rejecting yourself doesn't work though, because one he tried to reject his twin and his twin's soul reincarnted, and two rejecting yourself is completely at odds with the complete self-acceptance that Sukuna preaches is the source of his strength.

Sukuna's incessant need to reject Yuji, to prove that Yuji is wrong, that he's inferior is what leads to his demise. Not only that, but Sukuna's rejection of Yuji's method of fighting, relying on his allies leaves him blind to several elements of Yuta's strategy. He falls for the copy technique bluff twice, because Sukuna didn't factor that both the original users Angel and Toge could still use their techniques too. He's beaten by the cooperation that Yuta uses in his strategy, because Sukuna rejects that same kind of cooperation and sees it as a weakness.

Sukuna's proven to be wrong. He told Jogo that working with others limits your individual strength and he should have tried fighting on his own, but Sukuna is continually outfoxed by Yuta's strategy which relies entirely on team coordination.

It's also a direct parallel to the way that Gojo lost in Shibuya. Gojo was absolutely infuriated that the curses would work together to fight him and they'd rely on a strategy instead of just overpowering him with brute strength. But Gojo lost, precisely because they made a strategy around Gojo's exact weakness, that he's strongest when he's alone.

If Sukuna didn't feel the need to reject the others, then he wouldn't be so blind to Yuta's way of fighting with strategy and cooperation. If he could accept other ways of thinking other than his own he wouldn't have been hoodwinked multiple times in the fight. Yet, it isn't just Sukuna rejecting them on principle, he has to reject companionship otherwise the curses and hatred churning inside of him would burn him up inside. So Sukuna isn't really choosing his nature as he believes, but rather he's a slave to it.

There's also parts where Sukuna just straight up lies. He says he feels nothing, and yet two panels later he's completely enraged.

You could say that Sukuna is just saying he feels nothing about Yuji's attempts to empathize with him, but that's not the case. He definitely feels something, because that empathy, or rather pity as Sukuna frames it compeltely infuriates him.

if Sukuna lived entirely according to his own desires and didn't care about the opinions of others, as he stated a hundred times above why does Yuji's pity infuriate him? If he was so confident in his godlike superiority to others, why does he feel the need to prove it, by ripping apart all of Yuji's friends right in front of it in a gesture of revenge for being pitied.

This leads to what is the greatest moment of growth for Yuji, and the greatest moment of stagnation for Sukuna. Yuji's moment of growth isn't just in rejecting the cog mentality, but also in accepting Megumi. Specifically, he accepts the fact that Megumi is different than him, that it's alright if Megumi's not strong enough to keep living.

Sukuna is compelled by his own nature, his desire for revenge to reject everything around him, but the conclusion of Yuji's character arc is defined by acceptance. Not only does he accept that Megumi's own feelings are different than his, but he's willing to accept Sukuna back into his soul.

I don't think Yuji empathizes with Sukuna. He still doesn't understand him. However, in spite of that lack of understanding, he's willing to accept Sukuna into his soul and keep living with him, because as I said above Yuji and Sukuna are two halves of the same soul. Sukuna is the embodiment of everything he hates, someone who carelessly disregards life and hurts others with a thought, and yet Yuji is willing to give a second chance to that person.

In that moment Yuji lives true to his ideal of saving people, whereas by clinging to life Sukuna was betraying his ideal. I think it's important that Yuji didn't empathize with Sukuna though because Yuji and Sukuna might be two halves but they're meant to represent opposites.

Sukuna also had to learn to accept that Yuji was different than him. He spent the entire story trying to reject him and step on him like a bug. If Sukuna were truly confident in his ideals he wouldn't care that other people had different thoughts, but no Yuji had to be wrong.

Yuji doesn't empathize with Sukuna but he does change him. He alters Sukuna's fundamental nature "You are me" by showing Sukuna there was a different path he could have taken all along. That Sukuna wasn't the strongest he could be, that someone could have compeltely different ideals and be stronger.

Uraume says that the main characters didn't win because they were stronger, but because Sukuna was in Megumi's body a thousand years later instead of his own original body. Which basically means that Sukuna being a parasite in the modern era, pointlessly extending his life is exactly what led to his defeat because he couldn't accept his own death.

I think it's significant that it's not Yorozu or Yuji who Sukuna finally decides to accept as someone he can love, but Uraume. Sukuna even references there were people who tried to teach him about love in life. Assuming the one on the right in Yorozu, the way both uraume and Yorozu approach their relationship with Sukuna is compelte opposites.

Yorozu in the end seemed to recognize Sukuna's isolation, but she projected her desires onto him entirely like everyone else in the manga. Yorozu, Gojo, Kashimo, they don't seek to understand Sukuna but rather to make him understand then. They're in the end kind of self-serving in their love, making Sukuna into a symbol. Specifically Gojo and Kashimo project their loneliness onto Sukuna when Sukuna never asked for it. I mean if you want an example Gojo says this in his dying dream.

Yet, moments later Sukuna declares that Gojo Satoru cleared his skies. That he would never forget his name. Sukuna was completely satisfied with the fight, Gojo just didn't understand him.

Ironically, the one who Sukuna finally shows love to is the one who never bothered to try teaching love to Sukuna in the first place. Ura Ume spends the entire time at Sukuna's side, and while they seem to have more of a servant master relationship I'd argue that Ura Ume has a better read on Sukuna than anyone else. They can tell when Sukuna is enjoying himself, they can tell when Sukuna is holding back, they don't ever try to make Sukuna into something he's not they just stay by his side and accept them.

Sukuna's final scene in the manga is a deliberate callback to this scene. Jogo begins to cry and Sukuna says he doesn't undertand the reason why Jogo is crying. Immediately afterwards, UraUme appears in front of him.

Then, in their final scene together Sukuna is shown musing on how two people showed him there were different ways of living, Uraume and Yorozu. As he decides to go north, and become someone new as Mei Mei once put it in the going north and going south metaphor, he holds Ura Ume's hand and comforts him as he cries.

There are two people in the manga who showed Sukuna unconditional acceptance, Yuji and Uraume. Through them Sukuna was finally able to accept his own humanity.

So in conclusion: Sukume canon!

#ryomen sukuna #jjk meta #yuji itadori #sukuna #gojo satoru #hajime kashimo #megumi fushiguro #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen theory

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evilminji · 3 months ago

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You know what? HAVE we tried Yoda's "younglings fix everything" tactic on Skywalker?

New SI-OC Time!

Smol, adorable, has a bug out bag and enough credits stashed for their life on the run! Already learned how to tie the hover prams together in like .001 seconds flat and (SUPER gently) toss the babies into um. Knows where the baby food is. Conveniently, has helped ORGANIZE said baby food. (Some of which was "organized" straight into bug out bags)

The whole works.

But like.....?

Better part of a cure? Is prevention you know? And the Tragedy Of Anikin Skywalker? Is that he WAS a GOOD MAN.

And she's standing there, with her Fully Grown ADULT SOUL, looking at this KID who thinks he's a man... this TEENAGER who's been GROOMED by a Sith Lord, a fully grown adult he TRUSTED in a position of power and authority over him, the FORMER SLAVE, and she just...?

How can she look upon his soul? So brightly burning with light and emotion and a sense of JUSTICE? A young man who CARES so much he can barely function some days. Who's heart's ambition is to Free The Slaves so NO ONE will ever again suffer as he and his mother did? Who looks at his partner like she's the most wonderful person to ever draw breathe?

So bright. So GOOD. Struggling and trying and fighting a battle he doesn't even know he's IN, against a Sith Lord he thinks is his FRIEND?

How can she look upon that young man... and just? Abandon him. Decide he's too much effort to save. To even TRY. That his fate is a forgone conclusion and he is destined to Fall. Such things are a CHOICE. And Anikin Skywalker? Has had precious few of those in his life. Between Duty and his youth, lives on the line and Master's that owned.

This is HIS Soul. HIS future. And Palpatine is trying to chip away at his ability to think clearly. Trying to pressure and rush rush RUSH! So he chooses in fear and desperation, like the bad sell it is. Knowing he'll feel he's "too far gone" to back out. Letting him spiral. Ever tightening that noose.

But? Like... the man DOES want to be a dad. Have a family. The thought HAS to be there.

"I should practice taking care of Force Sensitive younglings..."

You know... in case he in Padme... I mean, he's not SUGGESTING anything! But, I mean? If she WANTED too? And he knows they're young and all... and it would complicate everything... but? But!

They'd be KIDS. His kids. HER kids. THEIR KIDS! A... a family. He can barely imagine it.

A problem though? Is how LOUD he is. He can't help it. No more then one can help their hair or eye color. Reminders to "remember his shields" are a great deal like hearing "your breathing is upsetting people. Kindly stop." Like? What do you want him to DO, exactly? Cease existing?

Yes, he COULD be shielding better. If you met him at WHERE HE IS. Not continued to try and make him conform to a mold he'll forever be too big to fit. He's not an IDIOT. He is AWARE that babies are hypersensitive to the Force, since they are so new and rely off it for basicly everything. He KNOWS he's overwhelming to even ADULTS sometimes.

Obi-Wan can handle him because HIS shields are basicly High Council levels. He could TEACH classes to knights and masters. Everyone else? They feel a bit... projected at. It's RUDE™. Very "getting all up in my personal space and shouting". you know?

Babies can't handle that!

That UPSETS babies! Younglings too, they just don't have the words for it.

Knight Skywalker is just "So Much". It's upsetting and alienating. Force Sensitives are basicly MADE to connect to each other. Are THE most social of their various personality types, races, and various cultures. It's just?? A "ducks trying to raise a swan" scenario.

Anikin has subtly different needs. Is gonna grow to be bigger then them. What works for THEM may very well be wildly unnatural for HIM and that's OKAY. Neither of them is wrong! The PROBLEM here? Is rigidity. Refusal to meet a youngling where they ARE, out of fear of change. Clinging to tradition rather then ADMIT to ignorance... thus? Never treating that ignorance with the healing hands of Knowledge, as is the Jedi WAY.

The Sith have been at work for a long, long time.

But OC does not have to play part in their games. Bow to their rules. To hell with tradition and fear. Paths upon paths that MAY, conceivably, lead to SOMEWHERE. Did you not SAY, Master Yoda? That the Future is always in motion? Attachments may lead to darkness, but they also lead to light. They LEAD to everything. Because they are part of being ALIVE.

OBSESSION and CONTROL are the Darkside. But mere Emotions are the flowing of tides.

She prescribes hugs.

An adorable youngling, herself of course, following Skywalker around the Temple like a duckling and flopping against him every chance she gets. Asking bright eyed youngling questions of her Super Cool Esteemed Knight Elder that he'll have to look up. Or look up WITH her. Sometimes indulgent listen to HER ramble about.

Or? If he's sand blasting the soul of everyone around him? Welp, time to brace for it! Once more into the breach! She is small and squishy. Warm, huggable, and filled with light. Can hum and hug his head. Smell like Baby. Itty bitty lil light and heart beat and body. Not a threat. Cares about him. Fellow Jedi. Safe safe safe.... calm...

Does she feel a bit... rubbed raw? Soul wise, afterwards? Fuck yeah. Ouch, her everything stings. But that's not his fault. AND! He's getting better.

QUICKLY.

Cause there's nothing QUITE like an adorable wittle baby child, whom you BLASTED IN THE SOUL FACE with abrasive anger-sand hard enough to probably scour them to the BONES, wincing but smiling up at you and asking if you feel better now... to make you just a LIL bit "fuck asking Master's, I'm gonna tear the Archives apart until I can solve this on my own" hysterical. Ha ha....

Oh Force he MAIMED A CHILD! (Soul bruised, at BEST. And not intentionally.) (THATS NOT BETTEEEEEER!!! *hysterics in Skywalker*) Padme! Put me down like THE ANIMAL I'VE BECOME! AaaaaaAAAAAAA-!!! (He says, showing up at a senators apartment, holding a youngling she's never met like a teddybear. The MAN SHE MARRIED, everybody! He's so lucky she loves him. Ffs Ani.)

But like?? Shielding? Leads to SO MUCH better emotional regulation and stability? Plus an immediately increase difficulty scale for Certain Sith Lord's.

Especially! If the technique Anikin has to use? Is OLD AS FUCK. Like... Pre-Rebulic old. Considered a wildly overly complex and exhausting way to Shield for most people who just don't have the midi-chlorians count to NEED it.

A case of "the side effect of THIS medicine can actually address THAT crippling symptom!? Huh." So Anikin? Starts? INTENTIONALLY Projecting. Yeah... wild right? After so long trying NOT too! He starts learning to? PROJECT a "bubble" into the Force around him.

So that he'll only sense himself. So he can FOCUS on projecting and politely not project AT people. Kinda like elevator music where normally there is just nature noises. Very clearly artificially made? But not? "Every thought you have shouted at me" intrusive.

Kinda pleasant actually! Especially here on Coruscant. Where everything is so discordant and murky. Suddenly? There's this walking Air Filter/Lovely Ambiant Noise Machine walking around and???

Anikin has NEVER been so popular?? O:

Padme. Padme! The Crechelings FELL ASLEEP ON ME! Just?? Clambered RIGHT on up, dumped themselves in my lap, and fell asleep! Everyone wants to meditate near me! There were ARGUMENTS! Obi-Wan! OBI-WAN feel asleep on me the other day! Just?? Slumped over against my shoulder and started to CUDDLE!!! (/ T^T)/ hold me Padme! Everything is Beautiful and nothing hurts! I should have done this YEARS ago!

Also! Did you know it's Totally Cool for us to get married? We just have to get JEDI married! Wanna help me lie to the council? (Totally, you even got to ask?) O/ \O *highfive!*

Palpatine would HATE it. Fucking LOATH it. But the thing is? You can plan for actors on the stage, plan approximately for players to come, but? NO ONE can plan for a SI-OC. And even then? Any plan accounting for what children will do? Usually discounts how intelligent truely really are.

The Sith Did Not PLAN for "smart baby knows what you are up too and decides to stop you".

Because WHO WOULD PLAN FOR THAT?

Well....? Maybe don't be SUCH a dick? That the Actual Force Itself decides to fuck with your plans by introducing Chaotic elements? Ever thought of THAT??? Anyway... THAT is how the Big MEAN Sith Lord was unveiled targeting an INNOCENT and TOTALLY not provoking him, itty bitty child! Oh no! Anikin! Save meeeee! The scary bad man wants to HURT ME!

A CHILD! Who you gonna pick? Me, the crying lil girl you basicly adopted with your wife, or the man you THOUGHT was you friend... before he ATTACKED A CHILD! With a RED LIGHTSABER! And lightning! Someone's throwing around mention of SLAVE CHIPS and he's suggestinghe can "save you wife"!!!

Real CONVENIENT. Since Anikin's wife is both completely FINE and under the care of Jedi healers, yet he's been having MYSTERIOUS DREAMS about her DYING HORRIBLY. Dreams that Don't Feel Right. Like they DONT come from his head! So? How do YOU know about those dreams, HUH? SHEEV??

*Chosen One INTENSIFIES*

#minji's writing #star wars #star wars oc

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dark-and-kawaii · 6 months ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Always ࣪ ˖⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

₊˚⊹♡ Summary: You find Zevlor after the elder brain fight to confess your true feelings.

₊˚⊹♡ Pairing: Zevlor x F!Reader/Tav

₊˚⊹♡ Content: Romance - Love Confessions - NSFW - Tender Moments - Zevlor Is So Good And Gentle With You - His Tail Wrapped Around You

₊˚⊹♡ Notes: Super proud of this piece!!! This is one of the most gentle, romantic, soft, tender stories I have ever written and I'm so happy it's with Zevlor. This is a trade/gift I did for @cinnasalmon <3 I hope you enjoy this babes!!! As well as everyone else!!!

The echoes of war still rang in your ears as you stumbled through the remnants of what had been a fierce battlefield. Your chest rose and fell with each labored breath you took, your eyes scanning the area anxiously… Then, just as the smoke began to dissipate, you finally spotted him. Zevlor, the man you’ve come to love, was slowly making his way off the destroyed terrain, his back to you. His figure was hunched, bloodied like your own, and you notice how his hand gripped a fresh wound on his arm while his sword dragged listlessly beside him.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you ran towards him. Your sword clinked against the scattered debris, slipping from your grasp as you hastened towards him. All thoughts were consumed by his presence; the overwhelming relief that he was alive propelled you forward.

“Zevlor!” You cried out, your voice cracking as your arms reached out to him. Your tears were swept away by the wind, making a trail of your profound relief and fear.

At the sound of your voice, Zevlor’s tail twitched, a subtle but familiar response. He had always said there was a certain softness in your voice when you spoke his name. A tenderness that seemed reserved just for him… He paused, perhaps contemplating whether to continue walking or not. There were surely others who needed your aid, others who might be clinging to life just as desperately as he… You needn’t waste your time on him, a battered old hellrider. Perhaps he should just continue on his way, it was better to not burden you.

Just as he was picking up his feet to move forward you called out to him again. Your voice was thick with emotions, more desperate, more laden with all the unspoken words you had kept to yourself. As Zevlor turned around, he felt a weight against his chest, one he hadn’t felt in so many years… You had thrown yourself into his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your head buried into his armor- seeking the warmth and solid reality of his presence. To seek and to know he was truly still here with you and had made it through this war.

You rubbed your head against his plated chest, never ending tears streaming down your cheeks, “Thank the gods you’re- you’re alright- I- I-“ you choked on your words, your eyes squeezing shut as the horrifying image of finding him lifeless flashed through your mind, “I thought I had lost you…”

Zevlor stood frozen, shock etching his features as he processed your embrace and the tearful confessions spilling from you. His own breath hitched, caught in the whirlwind of emotions he saw in you- emotions that were for him… About him. His battleworn hand hesitated, then slowly -careful not to show the pain he was in- lifted to rest on the back of your head- his fingers and long nails threading through your hair with a gentleness that spoke more than words could have. He kept his hand rested on the back of your head, cradling it softly against his chest while his gaze fell to the ground. His body shuddered ever so slightly as his own tears threatened to spill over, “Tav…” he murmured, his voice hoarse from battle, “I’m here… I’m still here.”

For a long moment he simply held you, his mind racing as he absorbed the warmth of your body against his, the dampness of your tears running down his armor. The battlefield around him, the sounds of the fires and people cheering in the back- it all muted into a hum, overshadowed by the beating of his own heart and the softness of your sobs. For once, Zevlor allowed himself to close his eyes and relish in this moment, to enjoy you- the one he so wished to hold like this since the grove… a moment that had been denied for far too long.

Zevlor had seen so much, had lost more, and in the harshness of the world of war and survival, he had hardened like the steel of his blade… Yet, here you were, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline, as if his very existence was integral to your own. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t baffle him, this significance you placed on his life, when he had long since viewed himself as just another soldier, expendable.

“Why?” The word was but a whisper, a breath lost in the wind, yet heavy with insecurities. His voice cracked, rough like the gravel underfoot… It was a genuine question, one that clawed its way out from the depths of a soul not used to being cherished.

“You are- you’re not a foul blood, Zevlor-” you spoke into his chest, voice muffled, yet loud enough for him to understand, “You- aren’t meant to be tossed aside after being the other’s shield- Y-You never were…” You pulled away slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest, the metal beneath them a reminder of all the battles he has endured and the scars he bears, “Zevlor- you- you are a hero to me. Not because of your sense of duty, but because-” You could feel your face heat up, could feel how a pure blush spread across your face, “because you are good- you are a good person, one who has fought tooth and nail for a home for not just yourself, but for your people… For those who didn’t deserve your loyalty…” The other tieflings had deemed him an outcast, a traitor after everything he had done for them… cowards… “Don’t ever think your life means nothing to me…”

He flinched slightly, the raw honesty in your words striking deeper than any blade could. As he looked down at you, his gaze tracing the lines of worry- watching at how the red tint of your cheeks darkened- how it all painted your face. “I-I did not know,” Zevlor admitted, “I always thought myself a guardian, a protector. One ready to meet the gods should it be my time in the line of keeping others safe… Not someone to be cared for. Not someone to be mourned.” Your grip on him tightened, as if fearing that he might pull away or that the moment might fracture, leaving nothing but the cold remnants of war behind, “But you are,” You insisted, “To me, you are. And losing you would have broken something in me that could never be mended…”

Zevlor let his hand trail from the back of your head, the pads of his fingers brushing gently across the curve of your cheek, the touch so feather light that you hardly realized he was stroking your cheek until his thumb swiped across your bottom lip, lingering there, “I-“ He started, then paused, his voice cracking as he winced, a shot of pain laced up his arm, his injury reminding him it was still there, “agh-!“ his knees buckled while holding his arms, the injury was much worse than he had thought.

“Zevlor!!” Your eyes widened, your hands immediately moving to catch him before he could hit the cruel ground, a sudden sense of urgency filling you as you remembered the extent of his injuries and how he had been clutching his arm… How his blood was smeared… How careless of you not to treat it sooner.

In the aftermath of his fall, Zevlor had found himself in your arms. The world around him a blur, his focus honing in on the only thing that had felt real… the only person who had truly mattered, you…

He didn't say a word as his eyes traced your face, absorbing the concern that was written across it- the desperation that filled your gaze. There was so much he wanted to say- so many questions that swirled in his mind, but for now, darkness was beginning to take hold.

“Zevlor!!! Zevlor!”

The last thing he felt was the warmth of your hands cradling him, the urgency in your voice anchoring him, even as the pull of unconsciousness grew stronger.

"Stay with me, Zevlor," your voice was a distant echo, a plea wrapped in fear and love. "Don't leave me..."

Somewhere in the depth of his fading awareness, Zevlor fought to hold onto that voice, to not slip away into the all consuming darkness. He wanted to speak, to reassure you, to hold you as you held him, but his body betrayed him, sinking heavily against your support….

…

When Zevlor opened his eyes, the harsh sting of his wound was replaced by a dull ache, and the room was dimly lit by the flicker of a fireplace. He was lying in a bed instead of his harsh bedroll, propped up by pillows on a soft bed, with you still by his side, your hand gripping his gently, as if you had not moved since he had lost consciousness.

"You're awake," you murmured, relief washing over you as you notice his eyes open, "You had me worried there for a moment.” You shifted closer to him, “I’m going to owe the gods it seems for taking such good care of you and making sure you don’t die on me.” Your soft laughter filled the air, an attempt to distract him from the worry that had lined your face and the fact that tears had long since dried.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his hand gave yours a gentle squeeze, his gaze softening as he took in your concerned expression, "Seems I owe you my life... again," he rasped, attempting to lighten the mood some more despite the gravity of his recent brush with death.

You shook your head gently, squeezing his hand.

“No debts between us, Zevlor. I meant what I said before you... before you scared me like that. I-“ Your head hung slightly, an attempt to hide the blush creeping across your face, an attempt to hide fresh tears that slowly brewed while your fingers caressed his knuckles, “I want you- I-… I wish for you to stay with me… I just can't bear the thought of being without you again… to be apart and not knowing what happened to you or- or if I'll ever see you again.” your words came out slowly, your feelings that had long festered spilling forth, your tears threatening to spill over, "I want to be able to stand by your side, and-" your voice hitched, the emotions bubbling forth, "for you to stand by my side and to protect you like you’ve protected me in this fight…”

You bit down on your lip, a habit that revealed your unease.

"I don't want you to risk your life alone anymore... I- that day when we parted in the grove… my heart, it ached… and then I found you in the pod… I- i just want you by my side- always…”

His brow furrowed, a pang of guilt echoing in his chest as he remembered the night in the grove, and the time you found him trapped in that damn pod. He had hurt you both times, not intentionally, but it didn't lessen the blow, “I apologize,” he said, his free hand reaching up to stroke your hair, his voice softer and filled with regret, "for the pain I caused you then, and the fear I caused you earlier."

His hand continued to caress your hair, his eyes never leaving your face, "I've spent most of my life alone, and even when I was with others, it was a fleeting thing... Something that never truly did last.” He paused, his hand slipping to rest against the back of your neck, his eyes closing, as if remembering his past, his thumb stroking your skin, a comfort for the both of you, "If I’m being honest, I do not believe I deserve such kindness, such love- not from someone like you- but, Tav... If- if it is what you truly want- if it is truly me you desire- I am yours- wholly and without condition. I would be honored to be yours.”

The moment hung in the air, the silence that followed his own confession heavy, as if the words had taken all the breath in the room with them. Your tears had stopped, and the only thing that remained was the fluttering in your stomach, and the rapid pounding of your heart…

You couldn't resist the gravitational pull drawing you closer to him, the overwhelming need to be near him and the desire to finally, finally feel him. To kiss him as you have so often dreamt of doing. Your body began to mold against his, your forms fitting together like puzzle pieces. The weight of you pressing down on him, your chest pressed against him sent a delicious shiver down his spine, his tail curling.

Your fingers intertwined with his for only a moment before your hands moved to cup his cheeks. The sincerity of his words, the gentleness of his touch, the look in his eyes… It was such a perfect moment, so tender

Your foreheads rested against one another, eyes closed, the anticipation hanging between the two of you- an intoxicating mix of nerves and excitement. You could feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your face while cradling his face, your fingers caressing the ridges of his cheekbones, trailing down the slope of his jaw and brushing across his lips. They were warm, and for a moment, all you could think about was how you could simply live like this, forever, feeling him, giving him absolutely everything and having him in return.

“Tav…” His voice was husky, low, filled with the same longing.

The moment was almost too perfect, a moment suspended in time where the world didn't matter and the only thing that mattered was him and how he was finally in your arms- how your lips would finally meet his-

And then, with a soft and slow press, the space between your lips was bridged and his lips were on yours.

To say you melted into him, was an understatement. The sensation of his lips against yours, the warmth, the softness- you were putty in his hands, a puddle of bliss. Every nerve in your body ignited as your lips moved with his- exploring, tasting- savoring the way his lips felt, how they fit against yours.

Zevlor, a man who had lived through so much, a man who had fought through it all, a man who had known hardship and had come out stronger because of it, had never experienced a kiss like yours. He had a few brief trysts in his younger years, but they had been fumbled and inexperienced, fueled by a carnal desire.

What he felt with you- it was different- the kind of kiss that spoke volumes, a kiss that was laden with months of repressed emotions and desire. With the way your lips moved against his, the softness, the gentleness- it was as if you were pouring your entire being into him, as if you were breathing the very air from his lungs. With each passing moment, the kiss grew more desperate, as if neither of you could get enough, your teeth nipping at his lower lip and your fingers tangling themselves into his hair. The soft gasp that escaped him only fueling the desire burning in your veins, a fire that could only be quenched by him.

Your legs moved to straddle him, and the sudden feel of you pressing down onto his lap had caused Zevlor to make a sound that made your very core drop, the sound a cross between a growl and a purr. He could feel himself grow beneath the covers, his length thickening as the kiss deepened, his hands gripping your hips, his nails digging into the fabric of your dress.

His tongue swept across the seam of your lips, and his breath caught when you opened for him, his tongue gliding along the roof of your mouth and against the length of your tongue, his grip tightening on you.

“Hah~ ♡”

The sounds leaving you were positively beautiful, he wanted- no needed, to hear more. Zevlor’s kiss trailed across the curve of your jaw and the column of your neck, leaving a path of fire in its wake, his breath hot against your skin.

“Zevlor~ ♡”

There it was- that sweet sound- that lovely cry of his name falling from your lips. It made him ache, his cock throbbing beneath the thin material that separated you. His hands traveled down your sides and slipped beneath the hem of your dress, his claws catching the material and pushing it up, baring your skin to him. His mouth found its way to your collarbone, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there, the tips of his ears twitching as you arched into him moaning his name yet again, “Z-Zevlor~ please don’t~ don’t stop~” your hands roaming down his shoulders and clutching him.

Neither of you could wait any further, your hands tugging at his shirt, wanting to feel the heat of his bare skin. Your lips dipping to capture him in a passionate kiss as your hands roamed his still toned chest. And Zevlor, the usual patient man,could also not wait any further, he tugged your dress over your head, breaking the kiss for a moment to reveal the beauty before him, the beauty he had thought about all those lonely nights after meeting you.

And there you were, the curves of your breasts and hips, the dips of your waist and the smoothness of your skin. Your blush, the color of a freshly bloomed rose, spread across your cheeks, down the length of your neck and down your shoulders.

“... Z-Zevlor,”

“So beautiful,” his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin, the tip of his tail lashing at his side, “So lovely, I- I feel almost as if I should be worshiping you instead of tainting you with my bloodstained hands-“

You pressed your finger to his lips, silencing him, the pad of your fingertip caressing the softness of his lips, a small smile playing on your lips, the blush spreading, the color deepening, and Zevlor found it to be a beautiful sight, “It's not tainting if I willingly accept you,” you murmured, the words whispered as if they were a secret for only the two of you, “besides, your hands aren’t the only ones stained.”

Zevlor’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you back down for a kiss, his tail slowly slinking up towards the thin sheet, the tip brushing against the fabric until it pulled back. You lifted your hips and watched as he pulled the piece of cloth back, allowing his throbbing cock to spring free, the swollen tip beading precum.

You knew it was gorgeous, you didn’t need to look at it to know such a thing, instead you kept all your attention on him, his face, his eyes, the way his hands explored your body, how his fingertips ghosted across the skin of your thighs and the curve of your back. How his tail wrapped around a leg of yours that was straddling him, how it lined you up with his throbbing cock.

Zevlor couldn’t keep his hands off of you, his palms and fingers gliding over every curve, memorizing every dip and rise of your body. He took the moment to marvel at how beautiful you were, and how lucky he was to have you in his arms, how fortunate he was to have your love.

Slowly, you began to lower yourself onto him, the tip of his cock stretching your entrance, his girth sliding inside you, his cock filling you, “H-Hells~ ah~ s’big~”

Zevlor's head fell back against the pillows as a shuddering groan ripped from him, his nails biting at your hips, fighting the urge to cum right then and there. Fighting not to pull you down, to thrust his hips up.

Sinking down further, inch by glorious inch, you felt his cock push deeper and deeper into your heat, stretching you deliciously and filling you perfectly. You could feel every thick vein lining it, the ridges that ran along the underside and the way it pulsed as it bottomed out, his tip kissing your womb.

“A-a-ah ♡”

“T-Tav,” Zevlor's breathing was ragged, his cock throbbing within the velvety confines of your tight heat, waiting for you to adjust to his size. His tail never left your leg, it gave you a light squeeze, the tip of it brushing against your leg, an attempt to comfort your discomfort.

“I-I think- hnnng- I think I can move n-now~"

You shifted, the movement causing him to brush against your cervix, “M-my Zevlor~♡”

At that, something snapped in him, and his hips bucked, his cock sinking impossibly deeper, the action ripping a sharp pleasurable cry from you.

He began to move, his hips slowly grinding up into yours, his gaze drinking in the sight before him- the way your lips parted, the breathy gasps that fell from you, the way your breasts bounced as he thrust into you. It was a sight he wanted to etch in his mind, to burn into the depths of his soul, the image something that could be seen even after death.

You were perfect- so perfect. He loved you, and the way his heart soared whenever he was with you, the way his breath was taken away by you, the way he ached for you- it was enough to know that he truly, honestly loved you.

Bringing you down for a kiss, he felt the shift, felt you move your hips, your pace matching his, and the two of you lost yourselves in one another, in the feeling of his cock driving into your soaked pussy, and the sounds of the other crying out.

Zevlor, despite the pain in his injured arm, couldn't resist, flipping you onto your back his face contorted with a mixture of pain and focus.

“Z-Zevlor-“ you reached out and grasped his face, “a-are you alr~ ah~!!”

But Zevlor silenced your concern with a deep thrust, not wishing for you to be concerned with such a trivial thing when you were the only thing that mattered at the moment.

With every roll of his hips, Zevlor buried himself impossibly deeper, his cock dragging against your gummy walls, his hips grinding against yours. Zevlor's sole focus was on pleasuring you, on giving himself to you completely…

Your fingers tangled into his hair, the silken locks falling like a curtain around you as he loomed inches above you, his tail curling and twisting itself around your ankle, the tip tracing circles against your skin.

“Tav…” he stilled, his hips flush against yours, his eyes searching yours, his fingers trailing across the side of your face, the gesture tender, loving, and so soft.

He was handsome, so striking, the glow of the candlelight and fireplace illuminating his body, his eyes bright with adoration.

And you, a sight he would never grow tired of, “I love you.”

“Zevlor-” your voice broke and tears slipped down your cheeks, “I- I- love you too- s-so much-“

Zevlor felt his very own tears welled in his eyes, the words a balm to his weary soul, and for a moment, just a single moment, he was young again, the world was not so dark, the world a little bit brighter, and would be for a very long time with you at his side.

Gently, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss, his thumb gently swiping at the tears rolling down your face, the touch lingering, as if he was trying to absorb the tears into his skin, just as you did the same for him.

Pulling back, Zevlor began to move once more, “I fear I won’t last much longer- not when I have the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms and in bed- not even the stars can compare.”

A small smile formed on your lips, a smile filled with so much joy, and your arms looped around his neck, his forehead resting against yours, and the two of you held each other, eyes locked as you rocked together.

“I- I am yours, Tav.”

“Ah~ an-and I- I am yours, Z-Zevlor~”

You both chased the feeling, the warmth coiling and building in your core, the pressure mounting and growing. Zevlor could feel his control slipping, could feel himself reaching the precipice, and as he felt your walls flutter and clench around him, Zevlor gave in, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of your bodies slapping together, of the creak of the bed and the cries of the other.

And you- oh, how you sang for him~

With a final thrust, Zevlor felt his control break, and with a low, feral growl, his cock twitched and spasmed, his cum spilling into your womb, his cock spurting ropes of hot, sticky cum. His head dropping into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against the column of your throat.

Your body convulsed around him, your cunt milking him for all his seed, your body losing control creating a mess all over his cock. Your juices coating his thighs and dribbling onto the sheets below.

He never knew someone could make such a mess, never has he made someone squirt before, and he couldn't help but feel a little proud.

It was bliss, absolute euphoria, and Zevlor could think of nothing else except for you. The two of you panted, breathless, and you could feel him smile against the side of your neck.

Both you could feel your eyelids grow heavy, and you felt sleep begin to take hold, the events of the day catching up with you.

“Sleep, darling,” Zevlor whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“You'll still be here when I wake up?”

“I will always be here, no matter what.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

With those comforting words, knowing he’d be here when you awoke, knowing you’d awake to find yourself in Zevlor’s arms made you drift off. The smile on your face the most peaceful expression he had ever seen, and he knew he would do anything and everything to keep it that way. To keep you smiling, to keep the world from ever darkening those bright eyes.

He loved you, and would protect you, from this day and beyond.

And as the sun slowly rose over the horizon, you were safe in his arms. Your own personal haven, a refuge.

You were home and so was he in your embrace.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #bg3 zevlor #bg3 smut #zevlor nation #zevlor x tav #zevlor x reader #tav

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fruitsoxs · 1 year ago

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this is long so i'm putting some under read more

BUT- Thinking about Astarion with a generally good tav/reader. I’m thinking it’s sort of an enemies to lovers type deal, where the two of you start off the adventure by bickering constantly over what to do. You always want to do the right thing, and it absolutely infuriates Astarion. He pushes back whenever he can, because your little rag tag group has other matters that are much more important than saving children, or rescuing girls from some hag. But of course, he’s always outvoted. You are easily annoyed by his constant complaining whenever you want to do something good, and so of course the two of you are almost always at each other's throats.

“Oh I’m sorry that I actually have a heart.” “You should be- we have other matters to attend to. Like, well I don't know, the thing inside our heads!”

However, there are moments where Astarion comes to learn that he genuinely likes your kind heart. When you easily forgive him for…hiding what he truly is. Or how you lie when a hunter is out and about. There are moments where you tend to his wounds in complete silence, gently wrapping a bandage around his arm. And when he says a quiet thank you, you simply nod and move on.

He’d never say this out loud, and of course continues to act as if you are nothing but a nuisance, but he starts to appreciate you little by little. You are not just some naïve adventurer who will drop dead if someone were to ask. You are the strongest person he knows, someone he could depend on if needed. He watches you fuss over the group, solving everyone’s problems. He sees how much work you put into making everyone comfortable, and how little you ask for in return. And while he thinks you’re a little stupid for it, he also recognizes that most of his disdain comes from the fact that he wishes he had someone like you to save him when he was at his lowest. If good people like you exist, then why did nobody come to his aid?

So maybe he gets less snippy. He doesn’t roll his eyes every time you put the mission on hold to do favors for others. Maybe he starts to fall for you little by little.

And maybe it all becomes clear to him when you get hurt.

It was supposed to be an easy little mission. A peaceful meeting that you were sure you could talk your way out of (it always surprised him how easily you could lie your way out of fights). And of course, Astarion and you just had to get in a little spat beforehand, so he stays at the campsite while you’re off bringing peace to the world. He doesn’t expect to see the others come rushing into camp, dragging your weak body along. He doesn’t expect to see you so pale, fighting for your very life-

He rushes to your side, demanding to know what happened. Something went wrong, and somehow you ended up stabbed with a poisoned dagger in the midst of a fight. He feels his insides churn when they lay you down on a bed roll, and he watches as you give him a weak smile.

“Hey fangs.” you manage to get out, entering a coughing fit shortly after. Your smile almost fades when you notice how scared Astarion looks. It isn’t like him to be so worried. You don’t like seeing him like that so you whisper. “It’s gonna be okay-” And gods does it infuriate Astarion that you’re still trying to help others, help him, when you’re basically dying by his side. So he snaps a bit.

“And how do you know that?” He bites at you, pain and anger in his voice. You flinch a bit, letting a silence take over for a second. You slowly reach out to grab his shaking hand, your grip so weak. “Just trust me.”

He sits by your side, barking orders at everyone else- demanding someone heal you. He’s a bit of a prick as Shadowheart kneels down to tend to your wounds. He seems so angry, but everyone can see the way he’s clinging to your hand. Everyone knows what’s going on. And after you’re healed, and left to recover, he stays by your side.

When the rest of the camp is asleep, he gently pushes your hair out of your face while looking you over. He’s just now realized how hard he’s fallen. While you’re protecting everyone else someone has to protect you. He may as well be that person.

#and everyone else is just watching you two fight going “yeah when are they gonna just fucking kiss already?”#socks thoughts #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion drabble #astarion x reader #astarion headcanons

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wynnyfryd · 9 months ago

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Trailer park Steve AU part 60

part 1 | part 59 | ao3

cw: reference to canonical minor character death

Max slams the phone down, knocking her forehead against the wall. Sixteen calls in a row and still no answer. “I give up,” she sighs. “You should just go.” “Seriously?” Steve protests. “And just leave you here? Alone? After—?” After all that? He throws his hands out like an umpire calling a safe. “No. No way.” “Look, my mom will be home soon, you can’t—” “—I’m not letting you get hurt—!” “—What are you gonna do? Fight my nightmares for me?”

“Maybe I will,” Steve mutters under his breath, pissed off and replaying the conversation on repeat while he gets ready. Feels like a psycho for doing it; feels certifiably unhinged just going about his evening after everything that happened, putting on a clean shirt and choking himself in a cloud of Farrah Fawcett spray so he can go pick up the sweet-but-stupid girl named Brenda he promised to take to the game tonight; so he can go cheer in the bleachers like he didn’t almost die.

(Or like, very vividly hallucinate his own death, which... Yeah. Doesn’t feel any less horrific.)

But whatever. Max is right. Without El, there’s really nothing to do but wait. Hop’s dead, Bob’s dead, Joyce is thirty hours away. Owens is off the table, too. What’s Steve gonna do? Call the government and tell them to come nuke the boogeyman? He doesn’t have any proof.

He also doesn’t want to freak Dustin or any of the other kids out without knowing for sure what’s going on and what, if anything, can be done about it, so...

Fuck.

Fuck!

He gets dressed; he goes out. Picks up Brenda and does his best to be nice to her even though she gets on his nerves the moment she gets into his car, and he buys them sodas at the gas station and doesn't say a word when she spills Sprite down the side of his passenger seat.

The school is packed when they show up — the crowd in high spirits, the marching band leading chants. Nancy's reporting from the sidelines, Lucas is laughing with his teammates on the bench, and Steve leads Brenda toward the bleachers and does his best not to think. Not about the graveyard, not Max, not the looming threat of cosmic terrors. Not about the fact that Eddie is somewhere in this building, probably looking all hot and menacing while he leads tonight's campaign. Probably perched on a prop throne drinking Mountain Dew from a painted chalice like a fucking dork; probably making it look sexy, anyway. Tight jeans, legs spread, an air of casual command…

Steve could go find him. He could make everyone else leave; he could get on his knees and crawl between Eddie's legs—

"Does it bother you that we might win the championship, like, right after you graduated?"

Reality comes back like a slap in the face. "Yeah, that's an excellent question, Brenda, thank you so much for bringing that up."

They get settled into their seats, and Steve wishes he were more excited when the ref throws the jump ball, but he mostly just wants to go home. ("You always want to go home," the Robin in his head reminds him, and the Robin in real life throws him a weird look when she catches him snorting to himself about it.) He's just tired. Worn down in his bones, hollowed where he thinks his marrow should be, and he's clinging to normalcy with a sort of sweaty desperation that he’s pretty sure Brenda can smell on him because the date just sucks; it’s so bland, so mutually boring and bored. He spends most of the night mouthing stupid shit at Robin or keeping a sharp eye on the court — anything to ignore his proximity to Eddie; anything to drown out his messed-up head and heart.

When the game finally ends Brenda gets a ride to a party with some friends. Steve goes back to Dustin’s place and paces a hole into the carpet. Stays up until 3 A.M., humming a Fleetwood Mac song.

In the morning, he tells himself as he drifts into fitful sleep.

In the morning it’ll be fine.

In the morning Max will come by the store like she promised, and they’ll keep trying until they get ahold of El, or Owens, or someone, and that someone will know what to do and how to help.

—

In the morning the TV tells him there’s a dead girl in his house.

—

part 61

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson

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bitchimasnake-sss · 9 months ago

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sfw alphabet ft. monkey d. luffy!!!

warnings: might be a little suggestive here and there, but mostly wholesome lol <3 [not proofread so it probably has a lot of errors.]

ENOUGH horniness, my children. time to simp. he is so cute plsplspls-

💗affection:

๋࣭ ⭑how affectionate are they? luffy is super-duper affectionate. not just to you, to literally anyone he calls his friends. it is not out of the ordinary for you to wake up and see luffy sitting on zoro's shoulders as the mosshead does weight training. "zoro, you'll pull a muscle. luffy, get off." nami suggests as she passes by the captain and his right hand man. luffy reacts by pouting and zoro by huffing as if he isn't carrying a 19 yr old, fully grown adult on his shoulders. so anyways, obviously he is super affectionate and cuddly towards you too. he always in clinging onto you, peppering absent-minded kisses onto your skin and giving you an himbo grins. ๋࣭ ⭑how do they show affection? by clinging onto you like plastic with static charge. he is inseparable. everything you're doing, he needs to be a part of it. everything he's doing, you need to be a part of it. but don't be surprised when all of a sudden, he leaves you to go see some weird sea-creatures with ussop and chopper. he would then get distracted by them and they would probably start their regular-schmegular shenanigans. but he remembers he has a BEAUTIFUL girlfriend, he is gonna come skipping over to you. enjoy the next 43 hours of cuddles.

💗best friend:

๋࣭ ⭑what would they be like as a best friend? like everyone else on the ship, he is super ride or die, so, him as a best friend is truly a blessing. from 3 am snack runs to gossiping (you gossip, he listens) to actual pillow fights and pillow forts (cause hes a child like that), you are in for a wild ride if you're his best friend. since he is so emotionally mature but so fucking weird, expect to receieve some bizarre anecdotes every once in a while. ๋࣭ ⭑how would the friendship start? how do any friendships start with luffy?? he just shows up and you accept him for all his dumbassery. so, thats how it probably started.

💗cuddles:

๋࣭ ⭑do they like to cuddle? yes. omg obviously yes. ๋࣭ ⭑how would they cuddle? i dont even know how to answer this because i firmly believe he just is out there doing anything?? like ofc he holds you all nice and sweet against him. but sometimes he just wants to hold onto you and it doesn't really matter how. so, he has some unconventional methods* of touching and cuddling. unconventional methods include: - sleeping on the other side of the mattress but holding you by his outstretched hands - lying a little bit apart but his toe is on your calf - look realistically if he could he would wrap himself around you like a python but um, he doesnt wanna scare you off

💗domestic :

๋࣭ ⭑how are they at cooking and cleaning? yes you do the cooking. yes you do the cleaning. look, king luffy is no sexist, misogynistic toe-nail rag who expects you to do the entire work but for the sake of saving your own life, you should do it. he has an iron stomach and can probably eat straight up poison and survive. he has survived in shitty situations so he really doesn't care how clean his room is. but can you a mere mortal thrive like that? you'd be dead wednesday. so, just do the cooking and cleaning. he will be down to help but uh, sometimes its better not to ask for his help.

💗ending:

๋࣭ ⭑if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it? luffy doesn't seem like he would break things off at any costs tbh. if someone's walking out, it you babes (he has terrible abandonment issues 😁) but if he had to. if he had to. then i think it'll be like getting suckered punched in the guts by a saw. he is never as solemn and quite as he is rn and even though he waves it off with a smile, you can see his lashline thick with tears. if you were the one breaking up with him, he wouldn't hold you back from leaving if he understood why you were leaving. but if you're leaving unannounced, that'll quite literally destroy him.

💗fiance(e):

๋࣭ ⭑how do they feel about commitment? didn't really care about labels. not in a fuckboy way but in a "well i think you're pretty and i do wanna kiss you if you let me, so, sure be my girlfriend or whatever" way. he just truly doesn't care all that much about labels, so when you got together, you were the one who had to initiate the "What are we?" conversation. "luffy" you whisper meekly, sat beside him. his fingers are intertwined against yours and you fight off a blush as you look at him, "i- uh, you know i just was wondering. like- it's just what are we?" he looks up from your intertwined hands, dumbfounded, "pirates???" but when you did suggest that maybe you could be his girlfriend, i assure you he went about every conversation like "my GIRLFRIEND yn told me". ๋࣭ ⭑how quick would they want to get married? yk what i said about labels? 100% true. doesn't mean he doesn't wanna marry you tho?? he thought actually you like someone and just marry them. so, after a month of officially dating, you both are sitting on the deck, eating some snack sanji made when luffy gives you a bright grin, "say yn, when do we get married?" you almost choke on your food, "lu- we are niNETEEN?" "yeah? isn't sooner better?" and now you're rambling, "we cannot get married now. i mean we're young and we should focus on chasing our goals. like don't you wanna be the king of the pirates? and i really-" "i can be the king of the pirates and your husband whats the big deal?" basically, he's just ready to marry you whenever, just say the word.

💗gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?):

๋࣭ ⭑physically: because of his sheer overpowered strength, he tries to be very gentle with you but tends to forget it every once in a while. nsfw: chopper often asks you why your voice sounds hoarse and why there are random bruises on your skin. you dont have it in you to let the resident doctor know that sometimes your boyfriend gets carried away. ๋࣭ ⭑emotionally: as i said a few points above, luffy is a truly emotionally mature dude but he's kinda silly goofy and that's why you always get weird anecdotes from him. he is always there for you in his unconventional ways and is really good at deducing whether he should say something or not according to your mood. evidence: 8th of march, 11:52 pm pre-dating you he sits besides you in you room as you sob into your hands. he's tried comforting you and a part of you feels so fucking stupid for crying in front of your captain like a child. but you were drunk and ussop had made an off-hand comment about how kaya was the prettiest girl he had seen and that made you spiral if you would ever get a guy that would say things like that about you. it was a stupid fear and yet, you heaved against your own palms as luffy sat beside you. "but you're pretty!" he seemed to argue to the wall, "i think youre the prettiest!!" "i- i don't feel like it" "are you saying im a liar?" "no, you're just a nice person. you always compliment sanji's cooking and nami's navigation tactics and ussop's inventions and chopp-" "thats cause all the people on my crew are the best at what they do? i have standards, is all." "who taught you the word 'standards'?" "i overhead nami when we were docked on an island. nami was telling some crying girl in a party that men arent shit and she should have some standards" "right, that checks out." well, atleast you're not crying anymore.

💗hugs:

๋࣭ ⭑do they like hugs? yes. physical touch is his domain thru and thru ๋࣭ ⭑how often do they do it? like atleast 15 times a day. out of which 10 times are you, rest 5 are wild cards that can come on anybody and everybody on the crew. ๋࣭ ⭑what are their hugs like? he has death-grip type of hugs. as if, if he didnt hold onto you, you will crumble. ngl its probably kinda nice and soothing for the first five mins, after that you're sweating profusely.

💗"I love you":

๋࣭ ⭑how fast do they say the L-word? pretty randomly, pretty fast. luffy doesnt exactly plan his words and since he's so honest, sometimes he just says shit. "you're pretty" "i'm hungry" "i love you" "do you think if two sea-kings had a baby that it will be a bigger sea-king? ussop asked me that today" yeah, it is indeed a whiplash inducing experience and you're left dumbfounded.

💗jealousy:

๋࣭ ⭑how jealous do they get? he's a chill dude and wouldn't honestly know if someone was flirting with you (unless that person was being very touchy feely and blatant). but he is good at reading emotions so, if someone happens to cross the line and you seem even a tad bit uncomfy, he is all for a fist-fight. nobody makes his girl uncomfy, especially not some lame ass rando. he behaves the same way with nami and robin too tho, like if someone weirds them out, the captain is ready to enter god-mode. he's just a sweet dude who cares about his crew. ๋࣭ ⭑what do they do when they’re jealous? he almost always starts a fight. you and the girls have to intervene because zoro and sanji just watch amused from the sidelines lol. afterwards, luffy does get a little pouty like "he was so weird you should have let me deal with him" but it's not something you cannot deal away with food and a lot of kisses.

💗kisses:

๋࣭ ⭑what are their kisses like: sloppy asf!! this man is messy and all in your business, how do you expect his kisses to be any different? especially at first, he is so sloppy, kinda unsure of what he is to do. but after enough make-out sessions, he knows you better, so his technique's much much better. he always kisses you for a long while too. like even his "quick kisses" before he leaves for somewhere are long enough for the crew to get irritated lmao. ๋࣭ ⭑where does he like to kiss you: the question should be where does he not like kissing you? he is infatuated and can barely control himself around you. any part of you that's visible to him is up for grabs to him. he also is a heavy, heavy supporter of pda. not cause he wants to show you or off (which he does), but because you look so pretty looking at the sunset, what is he gonna do? not kiss you???

💗little ones:

๋࣭ ⭑how are they around children? he is really, really good with children cause he's so childish himself 😃 but like jokes apart, whenever he is interacting with young kids (anyone whos older than five), he gets like super invested in the games with them. he refuses to lose to children. yeah so what if toge is screaming???? he shouldnt have asked to a match if he didnt wanna lose. as a menace to society, he also steals those kids' candy mindlessly and then shrugs confused when you ask him why the kid is crying. tldr; he is great entertainment for kids but do not leave him alone with kids or the kids will be sacrificed to some higher, eldritch deity.

💗mornings:

๋࣭ ⭑how are mornings spent with them? sleeping, if i am being very honest. the sunlight filters through the window of your room and you groggily open your eyes, fighting back a yawn. luffy is practically draped over you, asleep. he's drooling onto your tshirt and you look at him with half love and half "yo wtf dude" kinda expression. he is such a heavy sleeper!!! oh my god. its like someone can come and do construction in your cabin and he'd sleep thru it. but if he heard sanji yell "BREAKFASTS READY" then he's grabbing you in his arms and running to the kitchen. he would literally run to the kitchen while half asleep. but most of the times, he wakes up by himself when he's hungry and shakes you awake till you (reluctantly) wake up too. it doesn't help that he always wakes up super-hyperactive first thing in the morning too. also, i am sure he's the type of boyfriend that insists to kiss you with morning breath even if you stuff your head into the pillow to avoid it. he will chase you thru the ship if he has to to get that fucking kiss.

💗nights:

๋࣭ ⭑how are nights spent with them?: sleeping, again. luffy is usually tired from his day-long shenanigans and after eating an entire nuclear family worth of food for dinner, he is ready to fall asleep. but he is always so nice, he tries really hard to stay up till you're done talking to the crew/finishing your work to come in your shared room. he always greets you with a tired grin, asking you to lay next to him and tell him how your day went (as if he wasnt next to you like 90% of the time.) he tries super hard to stay up but he almost always sleeps while you're still talking. its not his fault!! he's exhausted and your voice is so sweet and your fingers are gently massaging his scalp and your skin feels so smooth against his and- you get the picture. he's asleep. ofc you don't mind. he's adorable and you let him hold onto you as you finish up some work/fall asleep yourself.

💗open:

๋࣭ ⭑when would they start revealing things about themselves: he actually forgets to tell you things, not out of intention but because it serves no narrative purpose to the plot lmao. (i mean he literally forgot to inform anyone about ace and was just like "YEAH THATS MY BIG BRO!!" when ace showed up in alabasta) so, yeah, technically it does take him pretty long. but if you ask him questions about his past, he would most certainly start telling you all his life's lore without a second thought. and you'd be stuck thinking "how tf did all of this happen to a child???" ๋࣭ ⭑do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly: like i said, he will infodump if you ask him, otherwise he would just not tell things to you. so, really depends on how good you are at asking questions.

💗patience:

๋࣭ ⭑how easily angered are they?: he is an easy-going dude. i mean he usually fights half of his battles unserious (till some fucked up thing happens and he gets angry enough to fight for real). so, he doesn't get all that angry on a day-to-day basis. he does get pouty and offended every once in a while, but he literally moves on from that within half an hour. he never holds onto those things for a larger chunk of time.

💗quizzes:

๋࣭ ⭑ how much would they remember about you? actually, quite a lot!! like i said, he makes a genuine effort to always listen to you (even when hes tired), so, he always remembers things that are personal to you and you may have said to him in passing. ๋࣭ ⭑do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything? honestly, if it isn't something very, very close to your heart, luffy will probably mis-remember it. he remembers things but never in the right context, so, its kind of a struggle to remind him those things. but its kinda endearing cause even if you are just re-telling him a story or something, he looks at you so intently with those bug-like wide eyes and a silly smile that it makes all of your annoyance fade away.

💗remember:

๋࣭ ⭑what is their favorite moment in your relationship?: if you ask robin, the quickest way to a man's heart is through his third and fourth ribs. if you ask luffy, it's thru food. (we know how much luffy loves food omg!!) you asked sanji to help you make a very very simple soup for luffy when he was injured after a fight. you wanted him to get better and take care of him. sanji had complied happily and helped you make a simple mushroom soup for the captain. so, imagine luffy's surprise when he was woken up by your sound. you were sitting by his side, a bowl of steaming soup in your hand and you smiled at him sheepishly, "i made you some soup." no matter how good of a cook sanji is, luffy genuinely believes that soup was the best thing he had ever tasted. (now every time he gets sick, he starts dropping hints like "if only someone made me some soup... with some nice mushrooms... maybe ill feel better. if onlyyyy" "ill make you the soup luffy" "yay!! i mean," fake coughs, "thankyou... im so weak i need some soup" )

💗security:

๋࣭ ⭑how protective are they? insanely protective. even an ounce of discomfort on you/the crew means he's gonna go berserk. ๋࣭ ⭑how would they protect you? hes the rubber man, he'd figure something out ๋࣭ ⭑how would they like to be protected? he doesn't typically need protection, both cause he's self-sufficient and also cause he lowkey loves fucking things up. but every once in a while, when the navy catches up to the crew and you say "it's okay, let me handle this." he falls in love. it's just so admirable of you to always step up (even when you dont necessarily have to).

💗try:

๋࣭ ⭑how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks? he honestly loves you a lot, but i dont think he has the brain capacity to pull off extravagant plans. one time he tried to surprise you for your birthday by planning a party with the crew. he ended up blabbering the entire plan by mid-afternoon. he is just terrible at secrets. but he loves to spoil you. anything you even show the slightest bit of interest in, he needs to buy it (doesnt matter if he has to risk getting charged a few billion berries by nami). he is super sweet and he shows that mostly through action and words. so, if you wanna do any fancy-shmancy thing, just organise it yourself and call luffy later.

💗ugly:

๋࣭ ⭑what would be some bad habits of theirs?

💗vanity:

๋࣭ ⭑ how concerned are they with their looks? not very concerned. he has you for girlfriend, you're the most gorgeous woman alive, you love him. does he need to care about anything else? like zoro, after getting in a relationship, he would def get better at just personal maintenance and all. if you like anything like skincare/makeup, best believe he will be the kind of boyfriend that does 3 hour long skincare routines with you just for the heck of it. (you are the reason luffy is an emperor with the nicest skin 😭✊🏼)

💗whole:

๋࣭ ⭑would they feel incomplete without you? yes. simply put, yes. he will be Devastated (with a capital D) incase you're gone. ofcourse, i see he doesn't seem the type to be stuck in despair forever, but it will be really really hard for him. for a few days, luffy would probably stop being luffy.

💗xtra (a random headcanon for them):

i have a personal belief that luffy sucks ass at games. let me explain. it's always the games where the rules are fairly simple where he ends up losing (he then whines and cries and the entire crew kinda pity-laughs it away) but the games with the most brainpower required? he wins those. easily. (he always just gets lucky one way or the other.) i also hc him as the kind of guy who wins chess by eating the pieces so, do what you must with this information 👏🏼

💗yuck:

๋࣭ ⭑what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner? he likes almost everybody unless they are a chauvinistic prick, so rest assured. plus, if he doesnt like anything, you'd probably find out sooner than later.

💗zzz:

he's already asleep. he's tired, he's a gremlin and he's asleep.

a/n: i thought i would do this for all characters but lord, the amount of work just one of these beasts requires has me quaking- (it's like writing 26 oneshots in one go 😭) but i def wanna write one for sanjiii <3

#one piece #opla #op #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #one piece luffy #luffy fanfic #one piece fanfic #luffy fluff #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece fluff

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animatedjen · 2 months ago

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The Mantis door had been left open. Even from the engine room, Cal could taste the salty, Force-stained air of Tanalorr drifting through the ship. It mingled with leftover pyre ash clinging to his vest and boots – he couldn’t bring himself to wash just yet. Any form of penance felt justified, no matter how small.

Cal hunched over the workbench, cleaning dried mud from his saber’s emitter (again) trying and failing to distract himself (again) when the click-whirr of BD’s scanner broke the silence.

“You found another bogling ‘gift?’” Cal muttered. BD chirped negative! from somewhere under the table and emerged with a small, foil-wrapped square.

Bracca. Despite years of dust, Cal immediately recognized the meal bar sold to double-shift employees. This one was dented, shoved deep into a pant pocket to be saved for a day without any other options. BD announced that the square’s interior might be edible, but it didn’t match any food descriptions in his current databank.

“It was barely food,” Cal said. “I’m pretty sure the droids ate better than we did.” Removing the caked-on dust revealed an Echo of rusted iron and rain, the shuffling of hands and goods under a dingy Guild banner, and the desperation of a young Scrapper hiding his last bit of food.

This was from his first night on the Mantis. Cal saw himself there on the cot, a trembling scrap rat of a kid with wild eyes and a broken lightsaber. Sensing echoes from his own memory was rare; psychometry draws upon the experiences of other people. But Cal had a strained relationship with the Force these days – and a strained relationship with himself. Another penance. He found himself drifting towards the bed.

The echo of Cal stripped off his drenched poncho and examined the blaster hole on its sleeve. His gaze darted around the room, then towards the hallway, where Cere’s voice murmured faintly over the hum of the engine. “I shouldn’t trust her,” he exhaled, wringing his Master’s saber in his hands. “She could still turn me in.”

Cal settled next to his younger self. The wind outside was stronger now, dragging purple leaves and glittering flecks across the floor. He sighed and leaned back against the bulkhead.

“She– Cere– she will give everything for you,” Cal whispered. His jaw trembled, and he fought through the grief swelling in his chest. “She’s going to save you over and over. And sometimes you’ll be mad about it, because you think she’s being too cautious. Sometimes her teaching will seem too simple, and you’ll act like you know everything, but you don’t. And when she walks away–” the words caught in his throat. “She walks away and you won’t understand why. And you’ll keep fighting, and you won’t know how to stop, and eventually you ruin everything.”

He tasted salt on his lips. The lights on the ceiling blinked on and off, and on and off.

“So I should leave?”

Cal turned to his own echo, now staring directly at him.

“I’ll leave,” the younger Cal repeated. “Right now. Make them drop me off on Nar Shaddaa, find work, and go back into hiding. Then none of this will ever happen, and no one will get hurt.”

Five years of sorrow washed over Cal. It was an empty promise from a boy who had not yet experienced the full power of the Empire. But maybe, a quiet voice offered, maybe everyone else would have a better chance without you.

The echo (or whatever the Force it was) glanced past Cal. Somewhere outside, Greez was calling to Merrin. Her reply made Kata laugh, and their distant voices melted into the breeze. “Who is that?” the younger Cal asked.

Cal dragged his boot across the floor. “Family,” he finally replied. “Your family. If you stay.”

“Are they worth it?”

“Yes.” The sharpness in his own voice surprised Cal. Despite everything that went wrong, all the pain he caused, and all the lives lost. You two are the best thing that ever happened in my life, Greez had once said, sitting on this very cot. For all of Cal’s failures, he had somehow been given the best people in the entire galaxy.

And if they chose him, no matter what happened, then maybe Cal could too.

The younger Cal walked to the doorway, hovering at its threshold. “Do we actually do it?” he asked timidly, clipping the broken saber to his belt. “Do we rebuild the Jedi Order?”

Cal met his gaze. “You make a difference. You save people. Not all of them.”

“Is it still worth trying?”

“Yeah. I hope so.”

His echo nodded and disappeared down the hallway. A moment later, Cal heard himself tentatively playing Cere’s hallikset. Then came footsteps and a familiar voice–

–and the memory was gone. Cal stood next to the Mantis couch and stared at the empty space where Cere should be sitting. He pried his fingers from the foil wrapper clenched in his hand and dropped the misshapen lump of Bracca on the table.

“What’s that?” Kata asked as stepped inside. Merrin followed behind, her eyes darting from the meal bar to Cal's pinched eyebrows. A purple leaf had lodged itself inside the fold of her jacket hood.

“Something BD-1 found under the workbench,” Cal shrugged. “It smells weird.”

Kata crouched at the table, poking the foil with one finger. BD hopped up next to her and reiterated his initial findings, but clarified the food item was long expired and no attempt at eating it should be made.

Cal pulled the leaf from Merrin’s jacket, and she in turn brushed a piece of ash from his shoulder. Kata gingerly opened a corner of the foil and immediately made a face. “This is really bad,” she confirmed. “Like nekko barf. Can we show Greez?”

“Lateros smell things differently than we do,” Merrin explained, her expression deadpan. “He will find it pleasant.”

“No way,” Kata teased, but she and BD were already out the door and halfway down the ramp. A moment later, Greez’ yell of disgust echoed across all of Tanalorr.

#jen writes jedi stuff #the Force is strong on Tanalorr so I'm gonna break some rules #and yes i'm still processing the end of Survivor 1.5 years later #star wars jedi survivor #jedi survivor #cal kestis #bd 1 #greez dritus #merrin #nightsister merrin #kata akuna #star wars

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lavaridgecookie · 8 months ago

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Horror Movie Time with Sonic F/Os

General imagines for watching horror films with Sonic characters! What types they're into, what kind of movie watcher they are, etc. I originally wanted them to be able to be read as romantic or platonic, but eventually I just kinda went full romance.

Characters: Sonic, Shadow, Silver, Amy, Rouge, Omega

Spoiler warnings for Poltergeist and Alien, and a very minor spoiler warning for The Thing

Sonic:

Is more a fan of the 'campy' horror movies, although he'll also watch slashers - they get his blood pumping and his heart racing, and he lives for that. He doesn't like seeing you actually afraid, so he'll definitely take your tastes into account when picking a movie- if you say no to a specific thing, he'll tease you a bit but he'll pick something else.

Does NOT like supernatural horror. He will not watch ghost movies. He won't watch movies about doomsday scenarios. Basically, if he doesn't think he could fight it off in real life, it horrifies him and he can't stop thinking about it. What if that stuff happened to him? Happened to you? Haunts him for days or months afterwards. You made the mistake of watching The Thing with him, and for three weeks afterwards you had to talk him out of making you do the blood test every time you were apart for more than 5 hours.

He's fine with werewolf movies, for obvious reasons. Been there, done that, still tries to use his foot to scratch his ear sometimes.

All in all, he just wants to have fun with the movie, and with you. If you say 'tonight, we are watching a bunch of Disney Channel Original Scary Movies and eating our weight in popcorn,' he'll be just as happy as if you wanted to watch every Halloween movie.

Shadow:

Is a more all-around moviegoer, although since meeting you, he's found slashers are harder to watch. He can't help but think about you suffering through those scenarios, and ultimately dying.

Meanwhile, he loves sci-fi and supernatural horror. He's a product of science, he knows what it can do, so he can completely relax when watching movies like Alien.

In fact, and he'd never tell you this, he likes that one a LOT more after meeting you. He can easily see you in Ripley's place- resourceful, smart, trying to keep everyone alive. Going back for Jonesy seems like something you would do. He likes imagining you, triumphant, coming home to him.

Shadow likes it a LOT when you cling tightly to him- you can grab his arm as hard as you want, you can squeeze him like you're a boa constrictor, whatever. It doesn't hurt him, he's the Ultimate Lifeform! He likes the physical contact that he doesn't have to ask for, but he also very much enjoys knowing he makes you feel safe.

You should definitely expect him to start appraising the movie afterwards- he doesn't actually care, but he wants to talk to you and he's not great at conversations without a set topic. Please indulge him.

Silver:

is kind of a weenie and and doesn't really like actually scary movies all that much. He's been through enough, thank you. He's much more of a children's Halloween movie guy- your Mostly Ghostlys, your Scary Godmothers, your Cry Baby Lanes. Basically, nothing scarier than Tremors.

If you do make him watch a horror film, he's shaking in the first five minutes, and once bodies start piling up he's crying into your shirt.

There is one exception.

He loves Tobe Hooper's Poltergeist. Everything about it speaks to him, and he loves sharing it with you. He'll hold your hand whenever Steve and Diane are supporting each other, and he'll pull you into his chest and hold you during the scary parts. Afterwards, he'll tell you about how he hopes you two can be together like that someday- how he'll never abandon you when things get tough, and how he knows you'll stick by him, too.

He likes it because throughout all the horrible things, everyone is looking out for each other. He loves that everyone lives. And if you like the movie, too? He's the happiest hedgehog that ever lived.

Rouge:

Is a big fan of slashers- the gorier the better! She's the kind to cheer when some idiot gets murdered. But she also much prefers watching them at home, with you. She wants her head in your lap, taking sips of red wine in between mouthfuls of heart-stoppingly buttery popcorn, just having a great time with you.

But, and you won't find this out on the first date, she's also a huge film buff and adores the cult classics. If you so much as mention cult horror, she'll start trying to get you to watch her Criterion Collection DVD of Hausu, and wants to discuss the finer points of horror.

And she is trusting you not to spoil her reputation by telling anybody else about this. Especially you shouldn't tell anybody that she LOVES Them!

She also really likes horror films with a romantic bent, and she keeps saying that she'll tease you during them but honestly when the time comes her eyes are glued to the goddamn screen... it's the perfect time to slip your hands into hers.

Amy:

Likes two kinds of horror moves. She loves psychological horror- it keeps her guessing, keeps her engaged. When you watch with her, she likes to voice her theories out loud, and loves to hear your thoughts on it!

In the same vein, she also likes cult classics- her favourite is the 1962 film Carnival of Souls. Expect a lengthy discussion every time you guys watch a more 'cerebral' film- she really does like to hear how you felt about it! It helps her feel like she can see into your world a bit better.

But on days where she doesn't have that much brainpower to spare, she really enjoys a good horror/comedy. Her go-to is the Three Flavour Cornetto trilogy, but honestly she's not that picky. You guys watched Werewolves Within together and about died laughing. The genre is basically the mental equivalent of icecream to her.

Whatever you two watch, you are smushed up together in one corner of the couch. Doesn't matter who's in front and who's behind, one of you has your head in the crook of the neck of the other.

123-Omega:

He also like slashers, and he's kind of unbearable to watch 'em with. Every time anybody dies, he either says 'That would not have happened to me' or 'I would not let that happen to you.'

It's kind of cute, but once you're an hour and seven deaths deep, it can get a bit annoying. That said, you appreciate him for who he is, so you knew this was a bit inevitable and you love him anyway.

Once you asked him what he would do to protect you from 'unkillable' slashers like Michael Meyers, and after a second of thinking, he picked you up, took you out to the gun range, put you down behind him, and proceeded to absolutely obliterate everything in front of him one long, sustained round of heavy fire. Probably used up at least $6k of artillery. He then turned back to you and stated 'Michael Meyers could not survive being turned into a fine mist'

You were still in your jammies, and you couldn't help but laugh so hard you fell over. God bless your loving sentry turret.

~~~

Hope you all enjoyed! These were fun to write for, and I'd definitely be willing to do more for other characters if requested!

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fxckn-sxck-fr · 2 months ago

Note

❗❗ HEY ❗❗ I SAUR YEW ADD BUCKY BARNES TO YOUR MLIST 🫵🫵🫵 YOU AINT SLICK ❗❗

anywayssss would you be willing to rank your comic book men on least to most willing to kill for their darling? i know we got your opinion on dick but i wanna see how it compares to everyone else

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋…

!!! GN reader, mentions of death/murder, violence, breaking bones, intimidation, threats, manipulation, general mental issues, biochemical attack (how the fuck did we get here), mutilation, self-harm, can be translated as either romantic or platonic.

Help, why did the beginning of this ask trigger my fight or flight for 0.2 seconds, LMAO. I dropped my phone like I was caught red-handed or some shit.

So, I initially made an oath to not answer any more asks until I either finish Life With Older Brother IV or my secret side project, but then I got this ask and figured I could use a little creative break. I’m hitting some brick walls right now with all of my writing projects, sobs.

So!! Here we go. Remember, this is in the order of least to most likely in a general sense. Featuring some new faces because I’m finally confident in depicting their comic book counterparts, yippee!!

Jaime Reyes: Obviously, if the scarab had its way, anyone who poses as a threat to Jaime’s beloved would be neutralized. But we’re talking about Jaime. As long as he’s in full control, he’d probably do everything in his power to not kill anyone, even if it’s for you. He knows he’s fucked in the head. No matter how hard he tries to convince himself it’s still just the scarab preying on his anxieties, it’s getting harder and harder to distinguish Khaji Da’s thoughts from his own. This spiral into insanity around his own morality and guilt would have him cling oh-so desperately to the idea that he’s still a hero. To him, the no-kill role is the only way to know for sure he’s still (kind of) himself.

Bruce Wayne: He’s The Batman. Of course he doesn’t kill. Sure, he may be a bit more violent towards potential threats when it comes to you, but he still doesn’t kill. It’s a core belief that he’ll stick to for as long as evil lurks in the shadows of Gotham. Besides, why would he need to kill when cracking a few ribs gets the message across just fine? Most people don’t even want to fuck with him in the first place; both as Bruce Wayne and especially The Batman. In many cases, simple intimidation will do the trick. It’s much neater than violence. Though violence is definitely still on the table when he’s in a mood (Alfred, for the last time, he does not need a therapist. He’s perfectly functional).

Clark Kent: Whereas Batman doesn’t kill, Superman can’t kill. Meaning, Clark is well aware of the image he has to uphold as the ever-so hopeful Man of Tomorrow. Which is actually fine by him. Due to his strong sense of morals, the thought of blood on his hands makes him sick to his stomach. But there are some cases where that dark voice in the back of his mind whispers he could easily snap the neck of that weirdo talking to you. Of course, this is clearly just a strange intrusive thought, and he guiltily shakes it out of his head the moment it appears. He’s Superman, for heaven’s sake! He’s better than that! Stooping to that level is simply not an option. But you know what is an option? Gripping people hard enough that their bones shatter. Accidents do happen, after all…

Wally West: The chances of him killing are very slim. Believe it or not, he’s not against the idea or anything (only when it comes to you), it’s just he doesn’t see the need to get his hands dirty. There are enough tactics in his arsenal that the thought won’t even cross his mind. A silver tongue can work miracles on its own, and standing at 6 feet tall, Wally can be surprisingly intimidating in his own right. Should there be any threat agains you, he’s more focused on getting you out of harm’s way than beating the shit out of anyone (that comes later, away from your prying eyes). At worst, anyone who pushes their luck will get fractures and road rashes as a result. Killing just isn’t an impulse Wally has. But if it absolutely has to happen… well, wouldn’t that be a shame?

Dick Grayson: As mentioned before in a previous ask, killing is off the table. Dick’s still a hero, and heroes don’t kill. It’s just that he miiiight accidentally lose control if he sees you in a critical state. The ask goes into much deeper detail than this, but to sum it up, he would feel devastated afterwards but eventually justify it to himself. It was to protect you… if he didn’t do it, god only knows what would’ve happened. Otherwise, he’s not one to get his hands dirty like that. The most he’ll do is deliver a very ominous threat that doesn’t outright mean he’s going to kill anyone, but the implications aren’t very pretty. And, if he can help it, he’d rather if you’re not in earshot. Unless if he somehow sees it as a good manipulation tactic. Then sure, you can hear all about how he’s going to drown someone in their own bathroom.

Peter Parker: He has a strong aversion to killing. Now, is that an outright no? As much as he’d like to think so, there are situations where no-kill is optional. Most of them involve you being in active danger. While he doesn’t go out of his way to kill anyone, he sure as hell isn’t thinking about the survivability of his rampage to make sure you’re safe. Causalities would be collateral damage; unfortunate, but possibly necessary. He also has a habit of threatening people’s lives when he’s particularly pissed off. As long as you’re not in some sort of critical state, he usually doesn’t follow through with them (and may even feel guilty afterwards). That being said, hearing your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man deliver a cold one-liner about wanting someone dead is still hella scary.

Steve Rogers: Listen, it’s not at all what he wants. He wouldn’t advocate for murdering your problems away both with or without the shield. But sometimes — just sometimes — it’s necessary. Of course he’d kill someone that posed as a threat to your personal safety. That doesn’t make him a terrible person or anything; most people would do that for their loved ones. Where the line starts to blur, however, is when there isn’t any immediate danger. Does that weirdo who was looking at you for too long count? God— no, Rogers. What is wrong with you?! But… then again, there was this look in their eyes… something’s just so off about them. Ultimately, Steve wouldn’t go through with it, but the thought does cross his mind. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.

Hal Jordan: The answer is yes, but mostly because he’s a Lantern. Sometimes, neutralizing the threat is necessary. He would absolutely kill if it meant saving your life. Is it ideal? Absolutely not. Is it cathartic?… Lowkey. Hal’s not afraid to abuse his right as a Lantern to “neutralize the threat.” But keep in mind that this is a rare occurrence that depends on his mood. Really, he only considers it for situations you’re extremely distressed by, like some piece of shit giving you the creeps. He wouldn’t kill for his own personal gain, as much as he sometimes wants to; this is all about you, not him. I also don’t really see him having regrets. If he wants someone dead, he absolutely means it.

Remy LeBeau: It’s simple; if he’s gotta do it, he’s gotta do it. He’s got not moral hang-ups when it comes to killing. He doesn’t do it often, but he’s willing to clean up a mess or two if needed. The need to kill ranges from your personal safety to just not liking someone’s vibe. If that were the case, he’d give the poor sucker more than enough hints to leave you alone. Murder would be a last resort should they not listen; which is totally on them, by the way. Gambit can’t help it if they’re not the sharpest tool in the shed. Is kinetically charging someone’s car to explode not enough of a warning or something? Man, what is wrong with people these days…

Tim Drake: Okay. Tim is just so versatile. Yes, he’s absolutely morally opposed to killing. Yes, it’s a necessary evil. Yes, the thought of it makes him want to throw up. Yes, he’d do it in a heartbeat for you. Somehow, all of these thoughts coexist in his sick little head. What makes Tim a threat is the fact he’s extremely unstable. One day, he’s got himself in check; god, he would never kill anyone, why would he do that?! Then the next day, he seems to have a change of heart; if anyone even looks your way, he’s dumping anthrax in their cereal. His preferred method is something clean, but if he’s in a particularly bad mood, he may revert to some mutilation with his nails. On those particularly violent days, he’d much rather harm himself than others, but there is something cathartic about scratching at someone else while sobbing about minute problems. Though that’s one hell of a “did I do that” moment when it’s over.

Scott Summers: Yes. And he’ll fucking do it again, too. When it comes to you, this man has killed people by accident before. Did he give a shit? Absolutely not. Why would he care if someone doesn’t know how to protect their spinal column when taking a blow; especially if it’s someone who dared to lay a hand on you? And, yeah, he’s supposed to be a good role model for mutants all over the globe, but a good leader knows how to take calculated risks when needed. Your safety is his top priority, meaning he’ll do whatever he deems necessary to keep danger away. Man, is it just absolutely brutal watching someone’s skin melt away from the friction of one continuous optic blast. Who knew he could cave in skulls with that shit?

Bucky Barnes: Let’s be honest, is anyone surprised? Yeah, that’s what I thought. You could simply point to someone you hate and they’d be gone within the next 24 hours. Bucky isn’t here to fuck around. While he may regret any kills he was forced to carry out, he sure as hell doesn’t regret the ones he’s actively choosing to do. If anything, his conditioning has left him no other way to show his total devotion to you. Yes, this means you he leaves fresh human hearts at your doorstep. Yes, this means he strings up the remains of your annoying colleagues where you can see them outside. Yes, this means he watches you sleep while caked in blood and guts after every nightly kill. Some small part of him knows it’s wrong, but he really could not give less of a shit. So much for trying to reform him…

#❥ CALL INCOMING: DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES?#❥ TW: YANDERE #❥ YANDERE CHARACTER #❥ PLATONIC YANDERE #❥ ROMANTIC YANDERE #❥ YANDERE BRUCE WAYNE #❥ YANDERE BUCKY BARNES #❥ YANDERE CLARK KENT #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON #❥ YANDERE HAL JORDAN #❥ YANDERE JAIME REYES #❥ YANDERE PETER PARKER #❥ YANDERE REMY LEBEAU #❥ YANDERE SCOTT SUMMERS #❥ YANDERE STEVE ROGERS #❥ YANDERE TIM DRAKE #❥ YANDERE WALLY WEST #❥ YANDERE VARIOUS X READER #❥ GN READER

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frozenjokes · 4 months ago

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cubfan135 vs mumbo jumbo’s monstrous self induced pseudo catholic guilt (and the world)

Mumbo woke with a jolt, nearly a scream, forehead sweating, fingers gripping the sheets, he needed- he needed- this was wrong, this was all wrong, this isn’t what he wanted, this-

Mumbo curled his fingers into his hair, struggling to breathe, the phantom sensation of Cub’s teeth in his neck not helping a bit. He’d lost himself, completely lost himself, he wasn’t- but-

He was fine. He was still here. He still had his head. He.. was fine.

Still hungry. Still starving, undoubtedly still starving, this had not changed, and Mumbo didn’t believe he’d gotten any relief either since he hadn’t really eaten, and if he remembered correctly, Cub hadn’t been very afraid regardless, but..

It.. It was fine. He had killed someone in a human form, and not only had the experience not overwhelmed him, he had kept his sentience. His shadow still yearned for more, but even it had quieted briefly, like that despite not being able to consume Cub properly, the experience of the hunt was enriching enough to settle the monster, at least for now. The ache of starvation still enveloped Mumbo, but he felt.. lighter?

Maybe it was the reciprocal nature of it all. Cub was just as intent on Mumbo's murder as Mumbo was on his, and given the option, both of them would have drawn things out considerably.

But as shock and the wonder of it all began to fade, sitting in bed, Mumbo was left with an ache deeper than the starvation that haunted him day to day. He just.. felt bad. He felt really bad, and had no idea if it was because of killing Cub, but he didn’t think so, the fight was just as mutual as it was violent, Mumbo had no reason to feel so wrong. But he was wrong, he couldn’t shake it, he was deeply, utterly wrong, he was dirty, he’d just done a terrible thing and all the enjoyment he’d taken from the act made him feel sick and depraved. He was blurring the lines between the Good Mumbo, holy and just, versus the shadow, evil and wrong for wanting and taking, and the discrepancy between these two persons was a source of deep distress.

Mumbo hadn’t planned this, he wasn’t ready for this to happen, but it had, and it had been fine, good even, and he was still here, the threat of losing himself to the clinging tar of his shadow proving to not be an issue, at least right now.

This.. This was good. It should have been good. Why couldn’t it just be good?

At least this experience would stay between them. No one else would have to know. Mumbo could work out these issues personally, figure out why he couldn’t just be pleased with himself, and get on with his life. If he dared to be so optimistic, perhaps that life could continue here, on Hermitcraft, if Cub or Scar found a way to permanently curb the hunger, adjust his species, anything.

But right now he felt dirty and lonely and wrong. He considered calling Cub, but Mumbo got the feeling he’d be about as sympathetic as a rock. Honestly though, Mumbo didn’t need someone to spill the details to, he didn’t want anyone to know the details, he just.. most of him just wanted a hug. To feel safe in someone else’s arms, a little less shameful, a little less guilty. Grian was the obvious choice.

But when Mumbo picked up his communicator to give Grian a call, his heart stopped beating altogether.

cubfan135 was slain by Mumbo Jumbo

Mumbo Jumbo was slain by cubfan135

The chat below the death messages had exploded into noise, filled with ??!??!?s and ‘whoa!!s’ and a particularly enthusiastic ‘YAY!!!!’ from Scar, along with questions and teasing and a chat moving so fast it would have knocked Mumbo off his feet if he’d been standing. Mumbo was famous among the hermits for his stance on violence, his vehement straying from all things ending in pvp and death.

And now everyone knew.

…

Cub woke up a little dazed and a little dizzy, as was typical for an expenditure of that much power. The fire of his adrenaline was still simmering down, and honestly he couldn’t say he knew how he died. Sure, having your stomach ripped open from chest to groin wasn’t very good for your health, but Cub hadn’t felt himself slowing down yet. It was just over. Had Mumbo survived? He had definitely been slowing down, hardly fighting back by the time everything went dark for Cub, but who knew. In hindsight, Cub wished he hadn’t gone so hard on the whole ‘trying to kill Mumbo’ thing, it would have made far more sense to let Mumbo take the meal but alas. He was too focused. Too frightened when the dynamic had suddenly flipped, death in Mumbo’s dark eyes where there had been no intention before, where he’d hardly had the energy to fight back, much less chase Cub through the second section of the maze on elongated limbs.

Cub chuckled quietly to himself. Awesome. Yeah. That was awesome.

He figured Mumbo would have probably thought it was something like awesome as well, at least an adjacent feeling; Cub didn’t entirely understand why Mumbo wanted to be eaten in the first place, but even if there didn’t end up being much eating in the end, it seemed like they’d both gotten at least partially what they wanted. This felt like a breakthrough. A win.

He remembered through the daze with a small jolt that he could check the chat, see when Mumbo had died or if he died at all. Somehow, Cub did not expect the explosion of chat messages that greeted him. The attention wasn’t even directed at him, but it was enough to make him feel queasy all the same, having to scroll to find the death messages in the first place. This wasn’t good, no, Cub didn’t think Mumbo would like this at all, not when the topic was so private, so sensitive. He sent a quick message about this being an accident, a thin layer of damage control he refused to elaborate on as he focused on finding the timestamps of their deaths. Two death messages, he’d seen enough to know that, and very few hermits reacted between the first and the second, so Cub doubted there were more than thirty seconds between their mutual ends. Oof. Hermit reactions were bad though. Hurriedly, Cub sent Mumbo a message as well, first asking if he was okay, and then if he was feeling any better. He just needed to make sure. It was too much attention, too much, Cub hadn’t even thought about that, and he doubted Mumbo had either. Before he tried to bite my damn face off at least.

Cub’s mouth hung open just slightly, caught in the memory. Cub seeing, but not understanding until his wrist was clamped in Mumbo’s teeth, Cub’s blood on his lips while Mumbo’s blood was painted on his own, but there was a shift, exhilarating but equally unidentifiable, Cub’s attempts to escape only half hearted when he couldn’t stop looking at Mumbo’s eyes, dying, or perhaps already dead. That look. That would stay with Cub forever. It was.. well, it was making him feel a kind of way, but Mumbo wasn’t there yet, almost certainly not, though if Cub deluded himself enough to chase this.. He nearly groaned at the thought, a hand drifting to his belt, but wait, stop it, silly stupid dog of a brain.

He checked his communicator, looking for confirmation from Mumbo that he was fine. Mumbo had not responded. Well. Cub hadn’t sent the message that long ago. He’d send another, asking Mumbo to confirm, then wait for an answer. Cub could wait. He could! His priorities were perfectly in order here.

Cub stared at his communicator for a while. He set it down, letting his head flop to the pillow. He stared at the ceiling. Shifted his legs a bit. Crossed them. Uncrossed them. Closed his eyes, letting his neck fall back- no, bad idea. He sat back up, mildly irritated, eying his communicator which should have pinged by now; he’d turned the notifications on for this specific message. Cub checked Mumbo’s texts. Mumbo had read them, but not responded.

Probably not a sign of anyone being upset about anything, surely not, said the part of his brain that was still fixated on the way Mumbo had looked at him, no longer seeing a person, but a shrieking meal. How Cub had known, seeing him then, that he was going to die. That he could not stay here because Mumbo, even exhausted as he was, would overpower him. That he had to run. Cub shivered from the memory, the raw emotion of it crystal clear in his mind, and god if he didn’t want to do anything but chase it with his fingers, aided by memories that would never be this fresh again.

Priorities. Priorities. First Cub would hop over to the moth ball and make sure Mumbo was okay. Let him know it was fine, he’d take care of anyone nosing around where they had no business looking, and after fifteen to thirty minutes of alone time, he’d do just that. Take care of it.

Grian was just about the worst person Cub could have met at Mumbo’s base, but ah well. Grian was staring up into the moth ball, face painted in a hearty concern that Cub quite honestly did not want to deal with, so he flew to the top instead, poking a hole in the ceiling to check if Mumbo was there. He wasn’t. Even worse, his patented expert plan of Ignore Grian did not work.

“Cub!” Grian squawked, typical of him when he was feeling particularly strongly, “What happened? Where is Mumbo- Is he okay? What happened!?”

“I don’t know where Mumbo is. I was just looking for him.”

“What-“ Grian did not get to finish, Cub blasting off on his firework rockets toward Mumbo’s mountain-side town. Unfortunately, Grian didn’t seem to get the hint, hot on Cub’s tail when he landed at Big Ron’s. Cub went inside, closing the door on Grian’s face before he could continue pestering. This was not as effective as Cub would have liked.

“Cub.” Grian seethed, feathers at his neck and wings standing on end, “Tell me what happened.”

“It was an accident, Grian, nothing to cry about.”

“You mentioned that.” Grian hissed through gritted teeth, sounding just about as pissed off as Cub was with him, “Can you spare any details? I am worried.”

Cub considered dismissing him, but Grian would not back down on an issue like this, nearly stepping on Cub’s heels as he poked his head into the back room, saw no Mumbo, then started to make his way out of the store. Cub realized a little too late he didn’t have a story prepared.

“He was helping me screw in a lightbulb. Simple as that. He’s tall and I’m on the shorter side, but even he couldn’t reach it, so I got on his shoulders. Fell. Died. Must’ve been low health, I wasn’t paying attention. Focused on the lightbulb.” Cub continued into the next store. Grian stopped where he was, gaping, so Cub took the opportunity to close the establishment door in his face.

Grian half-growled, throwing open the door and stomping inside. “How- Okay, I don’t- How did you both die? And why did the messages say you killed each other?” Grian sounded an awful lot like he didn’t believe Cub, but Cub was more focused on the fact he’d forgotten Mumbo died too. Hm.

“The lightbulb was really high up, Grian.”

“You said.”

“I couldn’t reach it, even on Mumbo’s shoulders. So I was using my kitchen tongs. Have you seen my kitchen tongs, Grian?”

“No. I have not seen your kitchen tongs.” Grian sounded very much like he was losing his patience, so Cub tried to hurry it up.

“They have sharp ends, kinda sharp, that’s why I was asking. So I was using them to screw in the lightbulb, but Mumbo and I lost our balance, and I’m flailing a little, Mumbo is tall, and as I’m falling I get him right through the neck with my tongs, and he- he punched me. Really hard. Then I died. Then he must have also died. Freak accident.”

“I don’t believe you!”

Cub shrugged, not looking back. “That’s a you problem.”

“Cub!”

“Grian. Relax. Mumbo is fine, it was just an accident. He’s done plenty other things a lot closer to murder than dropping me, so I highly doubt he’s any amount upset about it. I mean- he wanted- he agreed to do the lightbulb! He was totally fine with this! Wherever he is, I’d bet anything he’s asleep. We were doing some pretty intense physical labor for a couple hours before the lightbulb incident, so dying might’ve knocked him right out. I’m pretty tired as well. It’s just a matter of finding where he respawned.” Cub left the store pointedly as he spoke, entering another and shutting the door fast behind him, but this time Grian caught it, wrenching it back open and stepping inside.

“If you’re so sure he’s fine, why turn his whole town upside down looking for him?”

“Just looking out for a friend, G.”

“Since when are you two all buddy-buddy anyway? Mumbo’s never said a word about you! You’ve never said a thing about him either.”

“Not to you.”

Grian puffed up, squawking, “What’s that supposed to mean!?”

Cub turned on Grian, his own patience running dangerously thin, “Has anyone ever told you you’re insufferable. This is none of your business, so butt out.”

“I- How dare you! Of course this is my business, Mumbo’s my best friend! If something was wrong with Scar and I knew and refused to tell you, you’d rip my throat out over it!”

“If something this wrong was happening with Scar, I wouldn’t sit back and watch. I won’t do it, not with anyone, even hermits I don’t particularly know very well. But you would. Even Scar would, neither of you want to touch Mumbo’s issues with a twenty foot pole.” Cub took a dangerous step toward Grian, who stood his ground, but Cub saw the twitch of his brow, the crack in his fury, “If you wanted to make this your business, you would have already. But you haven’t. So I did. Cope or die.”

“What- Cub. What did you do.” It was not a question, but Cub didn’t care to answer, pushing past Grian in a forceful shove of his shoulder. To the next building. Cub slammed the door so hard in Grian’s face that he could not catch it.

“Cub!” Grian’s face was furious and red, the door cracking on the doorstop as Grian whipped it back open, “Tell me what happened! Tell me what you did!” Grian grabbed the wrist of Cub’s lab coat to which Cub whirled on him immediately, raking his claws across Grian’s face. Grian screeched, but Cub was not done, Mumbo was not here, and Cub didn’t need anyone tailing him, especially not Grian. Cub lunged, aiming for the throat, but the neck of Grian’s sweater got in the way, tearing under his fingers. Grian screamed, but was too slow, falling shortly to the second blow. Cub produced his sword, ending him quickly. No need to draw out the suffering, not when Cub would be out of here in less than a minute.

Briefly, he checked his communicator. Mumbo had not responded, nor had he said anything in any public chat, and if Grian hadn’t even gotten a message, well.. Cub didn’t believe Mumbo was asleep, that was for sure. If he could avoid any hermits, he’d drop by Mumbo’s shops just to make sure, then he’d start looking elsewhere. Invisibility would be a godsend today. Cub nodded to himself, taking off toward his own base to retrieve a couple potions.

…

Mumbo understood why pigs liked the mud. There was no shortage of it on the Hermitcraft server, especially this season with the rain, but today it was sunny and warm, and the muck was cool and slick and stuck to you like a heavy hug. The pigs were a little less pleasant. Mumbo had never met a pig that didn’t want to put any part of him in its mouth at all times, which, whatever. Mumbo couldn’t say he cared very much, and given he’d been here for a while, most of them were ignoring him by now.

Pigs were not soft or particularly comforting animals, but they were sweet, if not a little dramatic, squealing and screaming at most inconveniences (reminding him of Grian and Scar, sometimes), though he supposed the pig still trapped in his arms had a reason to be shrieking; if it was any other day, that would have meant certain death, but today Mumbo was just looking for a companion. Not that the pig was still squealing; it had stilled eventually when it realized Mumbo wasn’t trying to hurt it, but the quiet was almost worse, leaving him alone with his own thoughts. He didn’t much like it. Maybe he should get another pig to spoon.

A new batch of them had come around just recently, curiosity apparently renewed as they sniffed and snorted and stepped on Mumbo like he wasn’t even there. He was a little annoyed with them, but that was better than thinking about himself, so all in all, he accepted these next few minutes as they were, covered in muck and mildly uncomfortable with a massive sow cradled in his arms and snorting contentedly.

“Dude, this sucks.”

Mumbo shrieked, dropping his pig and making Cub jump up in turn, more startled than Mumbo had ever seen him.

“What?” Cub looked around a little wild eyed, like he was not the problem here, “What’s wrong?”

“You- You- Where did you come from!?”

“I’ve been here for a while now!” Cub matched Mumbo’s volume, but alarm was shifting more to bafflement, “It’s- I thought you knew-“ Cub stopped, looking at his communicator, “It’s been twenty minutes. You looked directly at me I thought- Do you sleep with your eyes open?”

“Not- Not usually-“ Mumbo’s heart still raced, but he was starting to calm down, confusion overtaking his terror. Slowly, he latched back onto his pig, who had apparently fallen asleep. “Goodness gracious me.”

“Yeah. That.” Cub laid back down, kicking absently at a pig who was stubbornly chewing on his pant leg. He was quiet, but only for a moment. “Did I say that this sucks yet? Why are you doing this.”

“I can’t go home.”

“Is this about the death messages?” Cub grimaced, inhaling guiltily through his teeth, “Yeah, I really didn’t think that one through. Not that things went entirely as planned, but oh well. It’s okay though, I’ve got it under control. If anyone bothers you about it, you can send them right to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Mumbo felt his voice crack, and his entire heart and soul split in two. No pigs could have drowned out the weight of his shame, not with Cub right there, not with the extremity of his starvation slamming back into him in the presence of the person he didn’t survive long enough to take. But he wanted it, he still wanted it more intensely than he did before, and maybe the worst thing was that Cub was just fine with that- How was it that he could be so okay while Mumbo was still being crushed under the weight of his own fear and guilt.

Cub sat up, brow furrowing in confusion. “About.. about what? It’s fine, Mumbo, whatever it is. You don’t have to be so upset, not about anything. With the death messages, I’ll take care of it. I promise I will.”

“I know you don’t care!” Mumbo felt wretched, a horrid sob wracking his entire body, “I know it doesn’t matter to you. I know you don’t care. But I care. I care so much, and I can’t stop caring. I didn’t even get to eat, I hurt you and I couldn’t even take it, and you didn’t even care, it would have made a terrible meal, but I’m still- I can’t stop hating it. Hating me. I know there’s not a single reason I should feel this miserable and that’s worse! And everyone-“ Mumbo’s breath caught in his throat and he choked on it, burying his head into his pig, who snorted absently, “Everyone is going to know. It doesn’t matter what you say. How you explain it off. If I have to eat, then they’ll all know. They’ll- they won’t hate me-“ Mumbo’s voice dropped to a strangled whisper, hardly having the strength to push out the words, “They won’t hate me. But if they’re smart they’ll be wary. They’ll be afraid. They’ll know what I’m going to do to them, and they’ll be afraid. They’d be right for it, and I’ll be miserable. Just miserable. And I- I think I’d deserve it. It’s just like you said, isn’t it? It’s such a selfish thing I’m doing, holding on to sentience. To live like this, knowing exactly what I’ll do in the end.”

“I- I don’t remember saying that-“ Cub stumbled over his words, looking like a man severely out of his depth, “Oh dear.”

“Yeah.” Mumbo muttered, somewhat snide as he side eyed Cub from where his face was buried in his pig. He couldn’t help it, the bitterness that crept through his tone. It didn’t really matter what Cub said or did, he had started this. He was the one all but forcing Mumbo to eat, to try it, to hold onto some sort of faux hope that this could work, keep him sentient, only at the cost of doing exactly the thing he so desperately wanted to avoid. Hurting people, his people. Taking advantage of every fear and frenzy, using them to hold on to his own unraveling humanity. Cub would not find a cure in those woodland mansion libraries, nor would Scar, they couldn’t read the language, and Mumbo did not believe any amount of old magic could fix him anyway. He was older than the oldest magic. He was too broken. Evil was too integral to his ever-shifting design.

Cub looked like he was staring down a lion’s den.

“You’re not human, Mumbo,” Cub spoke slowly, cautiously, like he knew whatever he was going to say wouldn’t be helpful, but he didn’t know what else to do, “You’re a predator, you’re hungry, and it’s not wrong of you to eat.”

“It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter, Cub! It doesn’t matter what I do, it always ends with me being miserable. I can’t even spare the world from my existence, I can’t die, I just live on, hunting and spreading my wretchedness everywhere I go. I’m doomed to hurt and be hurt.”

Mumbo could not read minds, but he knew well enough that the stark fear that was pulsing off Cub in heavy waves was not due in any part to the impending destruction of the server, or Cub’s potential role as a rat to a snake. Cub didn't know what to do because there was no reasoning with Hurt. Cub was looking for a way out like a rabbit cornered by a salivating dog, and boy was Mumbo ever, the patch of skin where he held the sow tight to his face wet with his own saliva. God, that pissed him off. That Cub was more afraid of him right now than he’d ever been.

“That- That’s not-“ Cub looked distinctly like he was waging a great internal battle, every single muscle in his body strained, “It’s not true. That you’re only- You’re not only hurting people.”

“Is it not? What do you call this then, Cub? Wiping out whole servers and then having to face what I’ve done before moving on. Worse, befriending the server’s inhabitants before I tear them all to shreds. It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter if I’m not a human, if I deserve to eat, or even if technically it’s not morally unsound to do any of the things I’m doing. It doesn’t matter. Because I, human Mumbo Jumbo, will still feel like shit.”

“No- Not that, not that..” Cub trailed off, and Mumbo was willing to bet he was more fidgety than he’d ever been in his entire life, “You’re not only hurting people because.. I- Some- Some people, just throwing this out there, haha..” Cub stopped, staring so blatantly at Mumbo for any sort of reaction or change, but Mumbo remained stony, glaring daggers right back, “..Some people might find that whole endeavor, uh, kind of attractive.”

…

“Not me though, haha. Not.. I’ll see myself out. But like. If there was a case that this was the case and someone did find these encounters to be some kind of net positive, then you would be wrong. So you wouldn’t have to be sad about it. Because someone. Not.. naming names or anything.. Someone might be very pleased about it.” Cub paused, fiercely anxious, then as if Mumbo didn’t understand, clarified, “Like. In the jerking off about it kinda way. This world is full of freaks, Mumbo. You gotta- you gotta be careful-“ Cub scrambled to his knees, tripping over the pig that was still after his pant leg, “I’ll go. I’ll go.” Cub seemed to hit the height of his terror, seeing an out, desperately trying to leave, and at the back of Mumbo’s mind, he and his shadow both seemed to agree that if ever there was a time to seize a meal, it would be now.

For the first time in his entire existence, Mumbo killed Cub instantly when his back was turned, because any other method would have lost precious amounts of that sweet terror.

And just like the first time, his first human murder, the feeling was all encompassing, but unlike then, in his state of extreme hunger, all Mumbo felt was deep, deep relief.

He took everything.

And afterwards he stumbled away, sluggish and dizzy in the wake of his first satisfying meal in ages, and he laid down in the grass outside of the pig pen. Maybe the craziest part, the most baffling, striking thing about this, was that he did not feel emotionally bad. Maybe he couldn’t feel bad, not in the afterglow of a meal so intense, but this hadn’t.. None of this was engineered. Mumbo was upset, very upset, and he still might be? He couldn’t tell, not now, but Cub had gotten worked up all on his own.

It was different. Distinctly different, but the outcome was still the same.

Mumbo didn’t have the mind to think much longer, about the implications of what this could mean for him or anything else. He was still so tired, from the respawn and the events before, and his limbs were heavy and heart slow, his body seeming to shut itself down as sometimes happened after a particularly good meal.

…

Mumbo was disoriented when he woke up at home. At first he was frightened; he’d been tucked so firmly under the blankets of his bed that he could barely move. He’d wondered if he’d died, but dead people don’t wake up under the sheets. Had he dreamed…? Mumbo tried to go over the events of the past day in his head, and all of it was so certifiably insane that it very well could have been a figment of his imagination, especially the part where he’d killed but not gotten to eat Cub in the labyrinth, hunger dreams were a bitch, but he- quite honestly, he couldn’t get over the bed! He did not trap himself in bed like this, someone else had done it, and they’d done it like they never wanted Mumbo to get out of bed again.

There was something on his forehead.

Wriggling, Mumbo managed to get one arm out of his blanket prison. He plucked the sticky note off his forehead, reading it through bleary eyes.

‘I am so sorry’

Mumbo stared, blinking slowly. That must be from Cub, that’s the only person who could have left it. That’s the only person who could have brought him back here, too, unless he told someone, which sparked a moment of fear in Mumbo that he quickly dismissed. He very much doubted Cub would tell anyone; for all his nonchalance, Cub at least seemed to be protective of this secret. Well. To anyone but Scar, maybe. Still, Mumbo was pretty sure this was Cub’s doing.

Mumbo wrestled against his blankets, finally breaking free with much effort, then sitting up in bed, heaving a long breath. It was almost shocking how much air he could take. In the depths of his starvation, anxiety was one of his worst enemies, and it was always a small shock to remember the feeling of a full chest of air. Mumbo closed his eyes. His head still ached, and badly at that, but it was different. His health was not good, one meal would never fix him so completely, but the voice at the back of his head was just a little bit quieter. He felt satisfied for the first time in so, so long. Not sated, no, never sated. But satisfied. Mumbo let a small smile cross his face, slow, but genuine, and sighed, reveling in a good mood he hadn’t experienced naturally on his own for a long, long while. Maybe this could work. It was truly astonishing how rapidly he’d gone from wretchedly depressed to.. well, maybe hopeful was a strong word. This just.. didn’t seem so impossible anymore.

Mumbo looked back down, squinting at the sticky note.

…

Why was Cub sorry again?

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #suggestive #hermitcraft fic #grian #cubfan135 #mumbo jumbo #hermitshipping #cumbo #tw: cannibalism #tw: violence #not that much tbh #in which mumbo is too busy salivating over cub (cannibalism) to realized cub is salivating over him (horny)

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