#like hes not dying but hes in pain. i want them to fix whatever they can. it should be fine. its fine. it'll be fine. these are fixable

[wolfisland]

local woman has been trying to mentally navigate the worst case scenario for the past 7 hours.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: IT'S GONNA FEEL SO GOOD, I PROMISE!

.ೃ࿐ he's dreamt about fucking you for months, and now that you're finally in his sheets, he has no intent of letting you go—especially when he finds out that he's your first time. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. virgin!reader. kinda sorta subtle coercion, corruption kink, slight dubcon, fingering, p –> v, lots of praise!!, mentions of prior dirty dreams (about you).

author's note: had this stuck in my drafts for a while so uhhhh. yea enjoy. tagging @mymegumi bc i love selene ꨄ︎

"please, baby, it'll feel so good," satoru cooes, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your face closer to his. "i promise i'll be gentle."

you shrug, scrunching up your nose at satoru hesitantly. "i don't know..."

your boyfriend presses his lips to yours briefly and smiles tenderly. satoru's soft eyes are fixed on you, only you as he widens them pleadingly. "i wanna teach you how to fuck. please, sweetheart, we can stop anytime. jus' wanna make you feel good, i promise!"

it's only partially a lie—yes, satoru certainly wants to teach you to fuck, but he's not entirely certain that he could just stop anytime. especially because he's well aware that fucking a virgin is such an addicting experience—satoru knows you're gonna be so tight that you'll just suck him in, and he isn't that confident that he'll be able to stop once he's started.

but whatever, that's a problem for later—for now, he's focused on persuading you to spread those legs for him and show him your pretty pussy.

you pause, considering his proposal. after a couple seconds, you nod hesitantly. "you promise you'll be gentle?" you ask meekly, averting your eyes.

satoru nods, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "of course—now c'mon, let's get those clothes off of you, baby." and a couple agonizing minutes later, you're half naked underneath a shirtless satoru, and his fingers trace the inside of your thigh.

"so first, i'm gonna make you cum on my fingers, 'kay?" satoru informs you. "needa loosen you up so you can take my dick."

"o-okay," you whisper, swallowing nervously. "i'm a little scared," you admit, fiddling with the waistband of your lacy underwear. "will it hurt?"

after a moment, satoru nods in response. "at first it will. but then you're gonna feel so good, i promise."

"you promise?"

"i do."

satoru tugs down your panties and grins at the sight of your pussy, untouched and reserved just for him. he's dying to just fuck you then and there, rough and no prep, but he made a promise. and satoru has no intention of breaking it.

"ready?" he breathes, positioning his fingers just outside of your entrance. when you nod, he shakes his head. "i'm gonna need to hear it from you, baby. use your words."

"i'm r-ready," you confirm, inching your thighs farther apart for him.

"good girl."

then satoru slips his fingers inside, and you can't suppress the sudden moan that slips out of your lips. to you, it's embarrassing, but to satoru, it's music to his ears. he steadily pushes his fingers farther and farther into your tight cunt, and satoru can't help but marvel at the way you just suck him in.

"you're so fuckin' tight," satoru mumbles, eyes fixed on your pussy. "and so wet, too. i've barely even touched you, fuck."

it's agonizing, really—the sensation of having someone else's fingers inside of you is so new and so strange that you can almost ignore the pain (which is present but not as throbbing as you had feared). satoru makes sure to be as gentle as he can, which unfortunately isn't quite as gentle as you'd like—but it's not too rough for you to handle.

satoru starts widening his fingers in a scissor-like motion, stretching you farther apart to make room for his already rock-hard dick. you squirm around him and whine about how deep his fingers are, but satoru dismisses your complaints with a laugh. "c'mon, this is barely the beginning. if ya can't take this, how're you gonna take my dick?"

a couple minutes later, when satoru finally deems you loose enough, he pulls out his now-drenched fingers. looking you in the eye with a smug smile, he slips his fingers into his mouth and licks your slick off of them. "mm, you taste so good, pretty. lemme see if you feel as good as you taste, yeah?"

and that's how he convinces you to keep your thighs nice and spread wide open for him as he positions the head of his dick at your entrance, practically trembling from the effort it takes to not just pound into you. you're so compliant and perfect for satoru, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to push you up against the headboard and fuck you until you pass out.

but somehow, he manages to control himself. "alright, baby, this is gonna hurt," satoru warns, touching his reddening tip to your soaked pussy. "you ready?"

"y-yeah," you breathe, distantly noticing the way your hands start to tremble. satoru exhales softly and shakes his hair out of his eyes before gently pushing himself inside of you, and the first thought that enters your head is that he's ridiculously big—it feels like you're getting torn apart every second he goes in farther.

"satoruuu," you whine, starting to paw at his chest when he goes in farther, and it's too much, too fast, but he only grins down at you in response. "it hurts, ow... y're too—"

"uh uh, just shut your pretty mouth n' take it," satoru groans, shifting the angle of his hips and going in a little deeper. you cry out in pain, face scrunching up in an effort to numb the stinging sensation around your waist. satoru dips his head and kisses your forehead, murmuring praises on how well you're doing.

"it'll feel so good soon, i promise, baby," he insists, pressing his lips to the spot in between your eyes. "you're takin' me so good, fuck— agh, you're so damn tight, this one's gonna hurt like hell, but you can take it, yeah? my pretty princess, you'll do anythin' i say, won't ya..."

satoru doesn't give you a chance to respond before he says something about this being the last stretch, but his words don't really sink in until he's two more inches deep into you. his last thrust is so sudden and jarring that it makes you cry out his name, over and over and over until the pain evident on your face starts to turn into something that looks a lot like... pleasure?

a self-assured smile grows on satoru's flushed face when he sees the chance, and a thousand more words of praise fall from his lips. your vision's a little fuzzy in the corners, and your mind is all but gone—it's hard to focus on anything but the slowly fading pain.

satoru starts to move his hips back and forth, easing your loosening cunt into him and nodding at the way you slowly start to show signs of wanting more. your eyes brighten up a little and you seem more alert the longer satoru opens you up.

"startin' to feel good now?" he asks, smiling smugly when you nod your head. "yeah, told you so." the prominent blush on his face starts to creep down his neck, and when you reach up and tentatively touch his cheek, that's when he loses it.

it takes every drop of self-restraint in his body to not flip you over, face-down and ass-up and fuck your tight cunt the way he's dreamed about for months. satoru's imagined it for so long that it's practically a reality for him—the way you would whimper his name and claw at the sheets, the way you would cum all over him too many times to count, all of it. he's seen it a thousand times in his head, but having his fantasy so close and yet so far drives him insane.

but as you smile up at him, the almost unnoticeable tremble in your bottom lip assures him that this probably isn't the time. after all, you're not leaving him anytime soon, so he might as well train you first before even attempting any of that on your perfect, untouched body.

"what do i do now?" you ask, and the simplicity of the question is almost childish. especially when satoru almost laughs in response, soft blue eyes glinting with amusement.

"jus' lie there and stay pretty f'me. and keep your legs spread wiiide open," satoru cooes, shaking his hair out of his eyes only for it to fall right back in.

"yeah, you're doin' so good that i don't even buy that you were a virgin—or are you just naturally made for me, huh? maybe that's it, 'cause i swear on my life that i've never fucked a cunt this fuckin' pretty, heh."

[heartlogan]

living to learn

✮— logan x f!mutant!reader (set in deadpool & wolverine)

✮— summary: logan mulls over all that he has lost, and all that he has found, in the void

✮— a/n: i was enabled by yall - please heed the warnings! you dont need to read pt 1 to read this!

✮— warnings: MAJOR DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS, major character deaths, angst, incredibly sad backstory, dead kids / teenagers, practically a genocide of mutants, suicidal ideation (from logan, kind of), reader acts as a mother figure for someone, incorrect dialogue from dp&w, a smidge of comfort, again ANGST, lmk if there’s more!

part one | masterlist

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It’s almost impossible not to linger on the things that you have lost.

And for Logan, it is impossible.

He spends every waking moment craving for the touch of somebody he lost, and he’s painfully aware that it’s all his fault. He caused the loss. And he’s the only one left to mourn you, because god knows the humans won’t.

Even for him, some two hundred years old, it’s all too painful. And he has experienced plenty of pain in his life. But this? Losing you? Losing everyone? It’s too much. So, he does what he can, he pours so much alcohol into his body that he can’t think, can’t imagine what your final moments must have been like.

But between bars, when his healing factor wears the alcohol down, it’s all he sees.

He imagines you there, surrounded by all of your loved ones except for him, unable to save them. And he can remember finding you so vividly, can remember the ashy tone your skin had taken on, all the life drained from you. He can remember exactly where he found you, in front of the doors, your dying action being to try and save the kids in the mansion. He prays to a god that he doesn’t believe in that you died before they did, because knowing that you hadn’t been able to save them would have killed you.

And the other X-Men, they died the same way. Trying to protect each other, trying to protect those kids. And perhaps the only one who knew that it was all in vain would’ve been Jean. Jean, who he found in front of the children.

Where was he?

At some bar, surrounded by humans he couldn’t care less about, all because he was selfish. All because he didn’t want anybody thinking he wanted to be part of the team. God forbid he actually care about something.

And because of his selfishness, his fear, he lost it all.

He lost you.

So when Wade said he could fix Logan’s universe, he would’ve done anything to make that happen. Anything that Wade asked for, he would’ve done. And as soon as his universe was fixed, Logan would go to you and get to his knees, he would beg for your forgiveness.

And all of that, that hope that had evaded him all those years, was for nothing. For an educated wish.

Logan couldn’t do anything but resort to his old habits, grabbing the first bottle of actual alcohol he saw, and finally numbing the image of you dead in his arms.

“There’s five of us.” Elektra told Wade, and Logan paid her no mind. Everything was futile now, pointless. He was only helping Wade to help the team, to help you, and that was likely impossible. So whatever these so-called heroes were planning, he wanted no part in it.

Logan had already secured his legacy in his universe, and it wasn’t the one you had always imagined for him. He was the Wolverine, and he was every bit of violence that name suggested. Because even though he hadn’t been able to save the X-Men, he sure as hell got his vengeance. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, until every single human who was remotely involved in the blood bath at X-Mansion was dead.

You wouldn’t have been proud of his actions, true, but you were dead.

Cassandra had mentioned something about temperance, earlier, and it hadn’t taken him long to recognise that you were the anchor of his. Without you, Logan hadn’t managed any sort of self-restraint. He had slaughtered people. And he could only bring himself to regret those that hadn’t quite deserved it.

By the time the red had faded from his vision, Logan realised he had gone too far. He hadn’t just killed the ones who had murdered his friends, but anyone in connection to them, and anyone who had gotten in his way. The only reason he wasn’t arrested was because they were too afraid of him, and the only reason he hadn’t been killed was because he couldn’t fucking die.

Even the fuckers that had slaughtered the X-Men couldn’t figure out how to kill him, and that was a sick kind of irony.

“Logan, that’s who I was telling you about! X-23!” Wade said excitedly, pointing across the room at a teenage girl, who stared at him like she was seeing a ghost. From the sound of what Wade had said earlier, she probably was.

And the sight of her, for some reason, tugged at his chest. He drowned the feeling with more whiskey.

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“Hey.” Laura greeted you, fidgeting with the strap of her bag as she watched you enter the back of the base, carrying a bag full of food. She seemed nervous, and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Hey, Laura, everythin’ alright?” You asked fondly, glancing at her as you started unpacking the supplies that you’d found scattered across the void.

She hesitated, glancing back through the doorway she was stood in, before focusing on you. “Yeah. Uh, I need to talk to you.” She said, sounding incredibly serious, which wasn’t unusual for her. Laura had been through so much, including everything that she had told you about her life before the void. Being here hadn’t made her life any better.

You immediately paused your actions, and turned your full attention towards the teenager across from you. You nodded for her to start.

“I was out patrolling earlier, and I found some people.” Laura said slowly, thinking her words over thoroughly before she spoke them aloud. She didn’t want to make this any worse. “I drove them here, and we’ve made a plan to attack Cassandra’s first thing. Except for one of the two, who doesn’t want to help.”

“Okay…” You said cautiously, almost confused. “This all sounds good, doesn’t it? Whoever they are, they can stay here if they want. Fill me in on the plan, and we’ll handle it.”

“It’s… okay. It’s about who they are.” She clarified finally, giving up on trying to approach the situation cautiously. “It’s a variant of him. Of Logan.”

Your chest squeezed painfully immediately, and you hand to hold a hand to your sternum to try and ease it. If it were any other situation, Laura may have made a joke about you having a heart attack, but she knew better. She knew how she had felt when she first saw the man, so she could imagine how you were feeling.

Immediately, your heart was torn between rushing to see him, and refusing to lay your eyes on the man at all. You weren’t sure you could handle seeing him, or, well, a variant of him.

It hurt too much. Every day you were reminded of how you had failed to save him, but you had to keep going, for the others in the void. Because they needed you, just as much as you needed them. Laura needed you.

She knew your pain all too well, having lost her own Logan. So you knew what she was telling you was the truth. There was really, finally, a Wolverine variant in the void.

“You okay?” Laura asked, after you had been silent for more moments than she was comfortable with. She was looking at you with such concern, and you could tell that her own heart was practically bursting in her chest from the sight of him.

“Are you?” You asked in return, eyebrows raised as you finally started to get a grip on yourself, shaking yourself from the pit of loss you had begun to get stuck in. She nodded, and you nodded yourself before pausing to think. “And this… Logan, he doesn’t want to join to Cassandra’s?”

Laura shook her head, looking down momentarily. “No. He’s… he’s as messed up as my Logan was.”

You approached her, drawing her into a silent hug. She squeezed you tightly, and the strength her mutation — Logan’s mutation — had given her wasn’t lost on you.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” You asked her quietly, and felt her nod against your shoulder. “Alright. Where is he?” You questioned, silently steeling yourself to face a copy of the man you had lost. The man you had loved.

She pointed you in the right direction, letting you go with a simple, “Good luck.” The entire walk outside, you were holding your breath, trying to prepare yourself somehow. As if this was something you would ever be able to prepare for.

And the moment you saw him, you knew it was all in vain. Because nothing could’ve prepared you for seeing him again, after all this time.

For a moment, it felt as though time was stood still, suspended.

Until he opened his mouth. “‘M not lookin’ for company.”

It was him. His familiar voice. The voice that you would’ve recognised anywhere, even after so long not having heard it. He sounded just the same as your own Logan, the same gruff tone to his voice, all grumpy expressions and furrowed brows. You could imagine it all as though your Logan was still alive, as though he was actually here. It took more than a moment for you to recall that this wasn’t your Logan.

You shuffled over to the log he sat on, the sun setting over the trees surrounding the two of you. He lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips, glancing at you as you sat. His entire body went shock still, and he turned to look at you fully.

You smiled, and prayed he said nothing about the way your eyes became watery. “Hi, Logan.”

He said your name, sounding as though he was a mere man sat before a god, reverent. The bottle slipped from his hand as he spoke it aloud, his eyes watering immediately, his lip trembling as he looked at you like he was seeing you for the very first time.

“Are you… her?” He asked hesitantly, hand hovering halfway towards you, and you hated to be the bearer of bad news. But if you had to be conscious that he wasn’t yours, it was only fair for him to know the truth.

Reluctantly, you shook your head. “I’m sorry. I’m not your version of me, and you’re not my version of you.”

His hand fell to his lap, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you for a moment. He seemed reluctant to believe you, and you couldn’t blame him. He looked just like your version of him, grey streaks and all. But it wasn’t him, you knew, because he wasn’t coughing up blood, wasn’t actively dying in your arms.

You cleared your throat, glancing to the fire before him, watching the way the smoke curled into the slowly darkening sky. “My Logan died. I—I couldn’t save you. I’ve been here, in the void, for a year, I think.” You elaborated slightly, not wanting to overwhelm him with information. “I’d like to go home. Mourn my losses.”

He stared at you, saying nothing, fingers still outstretched where his hand lay.

“Laura said you weren’t coming with in the morning. I was hoping you might change your mind. We need your help.” You continued, trying to remain convincing despite the shake in your voice.

But that seemed to do the opposite of what you wanted, and he blinked out of the trance he had been in. He started shaking his head immediately, fingers clenching into a fist. “You got the wrong guy. I’m not… I’m not who you think I am.”

“Maybe not, but, Laura told me you were always the wrong guy, up until you weren’t. And to her, that means something. To me, too.” You said, hoping he wouldn’t pull away further than he already had. As selfish as it was, you didn’t want to lose another Logan. You wanted to see him and his friend succeed, even if you didn’t. Maybe, this time, this Logan, you could save him.

“You don’t get it.” Logan refuted, shaking his head, glancing towards the fire as the sun finally finished descending the horizon. He seemed to get lost in the blaze, and you watched his eyes become unfocused, showing him images that weren’t really there. “I failed them. My team. You.”

You stayed quiet, wondering if he was going to elaborate, or if he was too caught up in his vision.

“D’you know something’?” He asked, blinking until the fire came back into focus. “You used to beg me to wear this suit. So did Storm, Scott, Beast. All of you. And I refused, because god forbid anybody believe I wanted to be there.”

“What happened?” You asked him, wanting to reach for his hand, but knowing it wouldn’t help him get through this.

“I went out. And the humans went mutant hunting. By the time I stumbled home shit-faced from the bar… you—you were all dead. Every single mutant in that house.” He explained, his voice shaking, his lower lip trembling once again. You were almost certain he was seeing those images again, because he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth.

A surge of sympathy shot through you. You wanted so badly to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew he wouldn’t believe it.

“So now I wear this goddamn suit as a reminder. To remember all of you. To make sure I never forget what I did.”

You released a deep sigh, the story sounding familiar to you, in some ways. He glanced over at you, seeing somebody else for a moment. After another few seconds, you reached into your shirt and pulled out the dog tags you had been carrying with you. You turned them over in your hand, running your thumb over the inscription.

He glanced wearily at them, and you reached out, grasping his fist in your own hand and pulling it loose until you could fit the dog tags in his hand, which you then squeezed shut. “I carry these with me, for the same reason. To remind myself that I failed you. That I can’t take that back. That I have to do better, even if all I want to do is give up. You aren’t the only one who did something wrong, here. If I could fix my mistakes, I would, but I can’t. So I carry on. For Laura. For anyone who needs it. And it seems like this… Wade needs it. From you.”

His hand was splayed open, turning over the dog tags in his palm as he listened intently to you.

“Be the hero you weren’t the first time around.” You told him finally, reaching out and placing your palm in his, squeezing around the dog tags, before letting go.

You went to stand, and he stood after you, reaching out.

“I—I know you aren’t her. I know that. But can I pretend, for a minute, that you are?” He asked you, and the vulnerability of the request wasn’t lost on you. Your Logan rarely ever asked for anything, even if he desperately needed it, so you could only imagine the courage that this Logan had mustered to ask you that.

You nodded, silent.

There was a pause, and he looked into your eyes, searching for something that you didn’t know you possessed. But he seemed to find it.

“‘M sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Logan told you at last, the apology seeming to burst from the depths of his chest. “I love you. I have loved you the whole time. I should have told you as soon as I felt it.” He confessed, and you saw the dog tags hanging from his fingers as he reached for you. And you couldn’t help yourself — you reached right back.

Your hands landed on either side of his face, so full of care, and you watched the tear run down his cheek. His own hands gripped you tightly, scared to let you go.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, voice broken.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You told him firmly, before rushing forward, pulling him into a hug so tight you could’ve heard his metal bones creak. He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in, and held you tight. “I don’t blame you. I love you.” You said, breathing the words into his ear as though that would make him believe it. He gripped you tighter, squeezing you against him. “I love you.”

You cradled the back of his head with one hand, pressing him close, because you were just as scared to let him go. Distantly, you heard Laura call your name.

After a moment, you pulled back slightly, only to press your forehead against his for a minute. You could pretend that he was your Logan, selfishly, just for a moment more.

Laura got closer, calling out your name once more, and you pulled back to look in his eyes. “I love you.” He told you one last time, before he allowed you to pull yourself from his grasp.

You had no idea whether he would be joining your group tomorrow, but you walked away from him with an empty chest, wiping away the tears that had dared to fall during the encounter. You would leave the last of the motivational speech to Laura, who you smiled gently at as you passed her in the woods, nodding towards where Logan still stood.

Logan had gotten what he needed from you. And you, from him.

[evilminji]

*evil grin of The Ponderings™*

You know who DEFINITELY would have Unfinished Business?

Heroes. Professional "If I could just MOVE, just fight a BIT LONGER, save ONE MORE PERSON" Heroes. It's the ultimate and unending Unfinished Business. To protect people. Not just their friends, their co-workers, but the innocent people around them.

That kid, stuck crying in the rubble.

That business man, screaming in pain, caught in the cross fire.

The People NEED them. They SWORE. Their very SOULS burn with the NEED to help. But... the flesh gave out. Injuries. Age. Quirk overuse. They knew... they KNEW, this was not a safe line of work... but... but! Please! Just one more person! Why can't they just make their breaking, dying, bodies MOVE!

Of course they refuse to move on.

They are needed HERE.

Yet? Their hands pass through. Their voices do not reach. A hell of their own, unknown, making. They can't let go, but they can't HELP either. There isn't enough Ectoplasm here. The walls of their reality overly patched up, since that unfortunate leak a few centuries back.

After all, the Zone had dumped near lethal quantities of unfiltered Ecto into the atmosphere. They're STILL dealing with the mutations and fall out, aren't they? At least, they are according to the Zone. (Wtf is a "Quirk"?) And, yeah, someone should PROBABLY do an assessment on the ecological recovery of the Reality. But like?

Do you have any idea how few people have an Obsession for stuff like that? Wait your turn! The list is long and you're not fuckin special, okay? The agents are BUSY.

Now, you might wonder? Wait. If they aren't moving on. Are DEFINITELY Ghosts. Starving as they are. Refusing to die as they may be. Wouldn't... Wouldn't that leave the whole ass area around their Reality an ecological dead zone? If it got over patched and no Ghosts LEFT, thus noticed, and started to try and work on it from the outside? Assuming the COULD?

Yeah. Yeah it would be!

It's called the "New Wastes"!

There used to be some cool Lairs around there. But there was a turf dispute. Someone DID something. Punched a HOLE. And everyone re-died. It was fixed but never quite re-healed. Portals... don't show up there? For some reason? Meh. Wanna brawl?

No. Danny's curious. He wants ANSWERS.

It's his fatal flaw.

Well... that and his inability to keep his mouth shut. But he likes to think he's funny. So... off he goes! And MAN! Does it feel funky out there! Weird textures. Mmmm, Don't Like THAT ™. It's probably a King thing? The Zone here... FEELS wrong.

Not... the way it's SUPPOSED to be shaped, if that makes sense?

And? It feels... if you sorta squint? Like... a LOT of people AREN'T where they should be. But aren't gonna leave until they're READY. Ooof. Great. Someone messed up again. Why does he KEEP FINDING bits and pockets that need straightening out? Unruffling? It's like he has to keep smooth out this giant peice of fabric with all these stains on it. Clean the messes on it.

He feels more like a maid then a King.

Maybe he is?

Pretty sure he's more of a nanny, since the Zone is more of a whiny yet excitable toddler then anything else. Alright, let him in. And fix... whatever THAT is.

So he steps into the Reality and? Huh. Japan. Neat. He always meant to go, never got around to it. Why is that man an otter?

.......oooohohooo, this place was HELLA fucked up by Ectoplasm, wasn't it? This is multi generational exposure. It's in the air. The water, ground, buildings. But stale to the point of stagnation. That can't be healthy. At least a few people he sees have developed ecto-resistance, thank the Ancients.

Danny discovers there are? "Superheroes"? Or just... heroes, apparently. They sell shampoo lines and athletic gear. Villians are petty criminals and psychopaths. All lumped together. He gets fuckin CHASED by the COPS and half the cities spandex patrol, called a "villian" (you know, like the purse snatchers and the DUDE WHO TRIED TO OPEN FIRE ON A CROWD) for flying around trying to assess the situation. Not speaking Japanese fast enough.

Soooorry! He TRIED to answer your confusing barked demands! This isn't his native language! He's translating through Ghost Speech! He knows it sounds unsettling to the living! It's the best he's GOT, man! (Asshole)

He escapes, obviously, because he's not 14 anymore. And honestly? He could top 200mph or so AT 14. He's only gotten faster. Intangible flight means no wind drag, motherfuckers~! OR need to dodge buildings! HA. Try to follow him through THE GROUND!

A few Blob sucked (to remove the ectoplasm) bits of treasure later? And he leaves a pawn shop with local currency. Thank YOU shady pawn shop! Ask him no questions, he'll tell you not lies. Enjoy Pariah's gold.

He does tourist things. Buy foods he's never tried, wanders around. Sees what's needed. Noticed a lot of people struggle with some aspect of the ecto-mutations brought on by the extreme Limnality. Need accessibility aids.

.....well, he IS a Fenton. His parents would disown him on the SPOT if he left with out at least TRYING to help. So he tracks down one the local ghosts. He'll need a guide or two.

He? VASTLY underestimates how desperate a sea of Obsession Starved Hero and Vigilante Ghosts will act, the INSTANT, they realize not only someone can see them... but it's? Their "Boss"? They aren't sure HOW they know that. But they DO. It's THE Boss. Here to help them! Asking for HELP ™ from THEM!

Yes

YES THEY CAN DO THAT

He gets swarmed. Hundreds of ghosts fighting over each other. Shouting. Turning on each other like rabid animals. All worn down and ragged by their Obssesion starvation. He's forced to shout over them.

And? Holy shit, these are only the ones from THIS CITY, too.

Thank Zone, again, he's no longer 14. That he has friends who are Rulers ™ that taught him HOW to Rule. To delegate. Pretend he TOTALLY knows what he's doing. That every action is on purpose.

It takes less then two hours, with all the experienced Unground Heros help, to make himself a Real Boy and buy a building. Put himself into the correct databases. He officially has licenses for things he's never studied. Is a tax paying citizen. Even belongs to several local clubs.

Over the next few days? He sets up his new... oi! Quickdraw! What're they called again? Right. "Lifestyle Support Company" which? Is a dumb name. But, Fenton Works is Fenton Works. Somehow he always kinda knew he'd be inherenting. It's in a cruddy part of town and the prices are cheap as he can safely get um.

He already had two customers, even though half the building isn't even fully set up. Which? I mean... he gets it. Poor guy. Knives for hands. Sharp ones too. The other guy's Obsession made him emotionally react to colors and like three different ones were ruining his life. So, hand Prosthetics controllable by knives and color filtering wrap around glasses.

Took him a lunch break or two.

Changed THEIR lives.

Suddenly his shop is packed. Schedule screaming for relief. And the ghosts? Getting more tangible by the day. See, his work shop? Ecto proofed. Let's him relax. But it ALSO let's him radiate fresh, clean, Ecto out into the air. And as King? With a direct line to The Zone? He puts out a lot.

There start to become Sightings.

People who SWEAR they saw long dead Heros out of the corner of their eyes. Dead vigilantes. That was who through that bottle. Who tripped that thug at just the right moment. Who unlocked the door. The SWEAR. They aren't crazy!

And... at first? Brushed off. Stress does a lot of crazy thing to a person, ma'am. But? How do you brush off, making eye contact with your dead best friend? Your old mentor on the other roof? That vigilante, who you WATCHED bleed out? Can you brush them off... when a vigilante from the dawn of quirks, punches some two bit villian on live television? Calls the Heros on the scene gloryhounds? Goverment dogs?

Runs from the cops and vanishes into thin air?

When this shit KEEPS HAPPENING?

Is spreading?

Are... are you supposed to arrest them for illegal vigilantism? How? They're THE proto-Heros! You don't want your name tied to that! The HPSC is furious. The goverment is uneasy. There are like... 6 dudes and a lady, openly stalking some kid in UA. Trying to mentor him. He looks moments away from a nervous breakdown.

Us too, kid. Us too.

All? While Danny? Is just sitting in his lil shop. Tinkering. Not HIS problem. Gotta let the ghosts here get it out of their system. Get their Obsession's full. Then it's all aboard the Zone Train. He's just here to make sure no one does anything "Too Crazy".

What's HIS definition of "too crazy"?

Wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy~☆

@hdgnj @lolottes @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn

[froggiewrites]

hi I had another idea for a request! dealer’s choice on the character(s) (but if you’re stuck for an idea maybe law?), but maybe the reader gets hurt in a fight and their (slightly in denial about being in love) future love interest nurses them back to health? can be fluff or smut or whatever you want I’m not picky I just love seeing your words

thank you I still love your work please keep it up

This request is from @toadmakes, on anon since it's her sideblog! I thought this idea was so sweet, so I just made a really fluffy, self indulgent little piece. Also, I let Law be cool last time I wrote about him so of course I had to make him a flustered little nerd in this one. I hope you enjoy it!!

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Law x Reader

SFW

Summary: You get hurt protecting Law, and he's not pleased. Warnings: Fluff, Lots of Banter, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort Word Count: 1.3k

You don’t remember throwing yourself in front of Law, or being carried back to the Tang. You don’t remember the screams of your friends, or the shaking hands that so carefully bandaged you back up. But that’s alright, because they were all too eager to tell you how stupid you had been once you came to.

“–disgustingly irresponsible! Not to mention unnecessary! What good reason could there possibly have been to do that?” Law is the most furious you’ve ever heard him, and you fear it may be because he’s the most scared you’ve ever heard him. You don’t know how close of a call it was, but you know you hurt all over, and his eyes are shining with something someone who didn’t know better might confuse with tears.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” You try not to say it like an excuse or a plea. It’s simply fact.

His eyes shoot away from yours. You swear you see a hint of red on his cheeks, but just as quickly as you notice it, it’s gone. He clicks his tongue with displeasure before continuing. “I wasn’t going to get hurt. I could have very easily moved out of the way. You–” he sighs. “Don’t do anything like that again.”

“Well I don’t think I’ll be doing it anytime soon.” You try to give him a wry grin, but it turns more into a grimace as you shift, pain shooting through you. You’re covered head to toe in bandages, every part of you sore and bruised. You’re surprised you’re upright and conscious right now, honestly. “Can I get some painkillers?”

“You’re on enough to take down a horse.”

“But it still hurts.” You pout, and he grits his teeth and looks away from you again.

“Yeah. Almost dying tends to do that.” Even with the gruffness in his voice and face, his hands are gentle as they begin to fuss with your bandages, checking over every inch of you to ensure you’ve been properly taken care of. You could swear he hesitates slightly at checking the bandages around your thighs and chest, but he perserveres, ever the professional. You wince a few times when his hands brush a particularly tender spot, yelping when he makes slight contact with your ribs. He fiddles with the IV in your arm, and you feel a flood of relaxation and relief hit you. Looks like he found a reason to give you more painkillers after all. “You’re going to be out of commission for a long while, y’know.”

“How long?”

“At least six weeks, but probably longer.”

“What?”

“That’s nothing compared to what it could be. You have a couple broken ribs, not to mention all of the cuts and bruises. You’re lucky your organs weren’t crushed.”

“Can’t you like…shambles it away?”

“No.” His voice is flat. You look at him with wide, pleading eyes, and he scoffs at you. “Well, more like I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“If I just fix it you’ll run off and do it again, and next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Oh…so you’re just worried about me?” You giggle, filled with warmth at the idea. And maybe the pain meds. “You could just say so.”

“That’s not–” he lets out a soft choked sound when he realizes there’s no way to deny it without insisting he doesn’t care about you. As grumpy as he can be sometimes, he would never say something so unkind. Not to you. “Shut up.”

“Hey Captain?” You feel your tongue loosening with things you would never say, but you’re too out of it to stop yourself.

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?”

There’s definitely a flush to his cheeks now. “What?”

“I think you like me. A lot.”

“I–No!”

“You don’t like me?” Your voice cracks a little, tears coming far too quickly. Whatever he gave you is powerful stuff.

“That’s not–I–agh!” He roughly runs his fingers through his hair, desperately avoiding eye contact with you. “I like you. As a crewmate.”

You puff your cheeks out a bit with displeasure. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.” 

“I’ll believe you if you look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“You’re looking at the headboard over my shoulder, Captain.”

His eyes flick to yours, and he turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “I li–” His shoulders tense and he suddenly shoots up and turns away from you. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about this. You’re high off your ass. I bet you won’t even remember this when you wake up tomorrow.” You can see the tips of his ears burning as he gathers his things and prepares to leave.

“You’re gonna abandon me?”

“I have work to do!”

“I’m a patient, I am work!”

His voice is rising with frustration. “You’re already set up, what else is there to do?”

“I don’t know, Captain, I’m not the doctor here!” You try to raise your arm to reach out to him, only to let out a soft whine when you can barely move it.

“Please stop trying to use your broken bones.” He comes closer to gently hold your arm down, concern clear.

“It doesn’t feel broken.”

“It will soon.”

“You’re gonna let me hurt? On purpose? You’re so mean to me, Captain.”

He sighs. His thumb starts rubbing small circles onto your hand, though he doesn’t seem conscious of the action. “If I fix you up, do you promise not to do anything like that again?”

“No.”

The affectionate movements stop. “What?”

“I can’t promise that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m strong, I can take a little pain.”

“But I don’t want you to.” You know you sound petulant and childish, but you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t want you to hurt at all, I don’t care if you can handle it. You shouldn’t have to.”

“So you should?”

“Yes.”

“That’s stupid.”

You huff. “You’re stupid.”

He can’t help but break into a rare laugh, a chuckle that rumbles through him and makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s lost himself until he looks up to see you staring at him, eyes wide and cheeks red, mouth slightly agape. “What?”

“I really like you, Captain.”

He grows horribly flustered, but for once he doesn’t pull away from you. He keeps looking you in the eye, even as every part of him screams to run and avoid his embarrassment. “You do?” His tone is heart-wrenchingly hopeful.

“I do. So, so much. You’re the most beautiful and wonderful person in the world.” You can feel your smile grow dopey and lovesick. “I’d take a million hits for you. A billion, even.”

“What if it’d make me happier if you didn’t take any hits at all?”

“Then I would say you shouldn’t have let me join your crew. Getting hit is part of the job. But that’s okay. You’re worth it.” You lean forward, begging him for a single touch, since you currently can’t lift your arms. You can feel your eyes drooping, but you fight to keep them open long enough to receive what you want.

He sighs, but you can see the affectionate smile creeping onto his face. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, resting a hand against your cheek so tenderly you could weep. “Get some rest. I’ll fix you up in the morning.”

You hum as he uses his palm to gently push you back down, his other hand on your shoulders to recline you slightly. You’re fading fast, finally losing your fight with sleep, but before you go, you swear you feel the ghost of his lips against your forehead.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[lowkeyrobin]

hey i saw you were talking requests for dbda, can you pls write something for charles rowland that takes place after him beating the night nurse, like helping to calm him down and comforting him

tysm!

oo okay yeah sure!! I can definitely try that for you! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also sorry this is so short, I didn't really know what to do tbh 💀 idk writers block sucks istg

CHARLES ROWLAND ; nighty night nurse

summary ; after defeating the night nurse, you try to help comfort Charles

warnings ; language

word count ; 448

masterlist

"Those memories are not why I choose to stay here! I still have a purpose. I'm a Dead Boy Detective!"

Watching the Night Nurse fall into the mouth of the giant angler fish replayed in your mind over and over, practically paralyzing you. As Edwin, Crystal, and Niko look back at Charles, they're stunned, practically unable to find words.

"Why are you all looking at me like that? I did that for us"

"Charles, that was... extreme" Edwin replies.

Charles chuckles, turning to catch his breath. "That was extreme, Edwin? So was me dying at sixteen, mate. I don't wanna be dead. I hate it. But every day, I'm fucking smiling, cause who else will hold it together and keeping the spirits up? You? Are you gonna do that, huh?"

You slowly turn to face him as well, halfway listening since watching that was making your ears ring a bit. You didn't know what was different about this, as you'd seen a lot of weird shit over the years, but this was definitely one of those moments where you wanted to puke.

You felt for Charles, you really did, you understood his pain, you understood why he was so mad. But you'd never seen this side of him before. He'd never broken his happy little facade, his joy replaced by pure anger and hatred.

"What good am I doing? I couldn't stop Devlin from murdering his family over and over. I can't stop Crystal from hurting. I can't stop whatever is it going on with you. I can't stop anything!" He shouts, tears slipping down his cheeks. "I sure as hell couldn't stop my dad from beating the shit out of me" He sniffles, falling to his knees.

You cautiously walk to him, legs shaking, aching like you'd fall to yours at any moment. You slowly drop down to the damp grass, a hand softly resting on his shoulder. You slowly use your index and middle finger to tilt his chin up to look at you.

No words are shared, just a look.

His of pain and sorrow, yours heeding a silent apology and reassurance.

You look to the trio a few feet away, nodding for them to trudge away. As they do, Charles falls into your arms, attempting to choke back sobs, a river of tears falling from his eyes.

"I'm sorry" he cries, his hands testing on your arms that rest around his torso.

"It's okay," you whisper. "Everything's gonna be alright. You don't have to fix other people's problems or try and keep everything glued together. It's okay to not be okay"

He sniffles and nods, trying to catch his breath.

"It's gonna be okay"

[thursdayinspace]

Let it Fly

fic: light as clouds

the last of the fic prompts! I have to admit, I got a bit creative with this one. And I wanted to hold it back, because as it turns out, this fits perfectly into a long fic I'm writing, so let's just call this "WIP Wednesday" or a fic teaser or "Thursday feels bad about holding back a prompt fill." I will not put it on AO3 yet because there will be a lot more. The fic that this will be a part of currently has the working title "one word, nine letters" and is a post-cancer fic in which they are in an established relationship. this is part of one chapter probably close to the beginning.

tagging @today-in-fic

--

“Just follow me,” she says, and takes his hand.

“Where are we going?” She’s leading him down a winding path at sunset on a cold late evening and as much as he trusts her, he wants to know that she has a reason.

“To the beach,” she says simply. “You’ll see.”

She has been working hard on getting better, on regaining her strength, but he still worries: that she’s pushing herself too hard, that it’s too much for her, that her eyes will look tired again and her legs won’t be able to carry her. He knows she doesn’t want to hear that. She just wants to forget.

Forgetting is the one thing he can’t do.

The light is sunset-soft under a wide expanse of gray-blue sky. It’s beautiful out here, quiet except for the rushing of the waves and the heavy wind, the crisp sea air erasing lingering traces of hospital smell and despair from their minds. A long weekend away was a good idea, he thinks – they both need to stay still for a while, remember how to breathe.

There is a smile on her face as she sighs deeply and looks off into the distance. He looks at her. There is color in her cheeks again, and not just from the cold.

“So, what are we doing here?” he asks. Because somehow he doesn’t think they just came down here for the view.

“Melissa and I used to do this thing,” she says, her eyes still fixed on the horizon. “When things were difficult, when her boyfriend dumped her, or when I was freaking out about telling our parents about joining the FBI. It was her idea. I don’t even know when it started.” Her smile is wistful, her eyes sad, and he loves her so much he can’t stand it sometimes. “We’d climb up onto the roof, or find a hill, or go to the beach, depending on where we were at the time. We took leaves, or feathers, or whatever we had, told them our deepest worries, and let the wind blow them away.”

“That sounds nice,” he says. “Did it work?”

“It was a nice ritual,” she answers. “It eased the pain for the moment.”

“Is that why you wanted to go out this late? Because you need to let go of something?”

Her eyes are so serious as they meet his. “No, Mulder,” she says. “We’re here because you do.”

He swallows. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Her hand squeezes his fingers, her gaze holding his. “You’ve been so sad lately. And -” She shrugs. “I know it’s childish. But I thought maybe – you know. At least acknowledging it – whatever it is – maybe it would help.”

There is one thing, he thinks. Among many. One thing sitting on his chest heavier than all the water in the sea, and it would take a hurricane to wash him onto shore along with the driftwood. But she wants to share something with him and they came so close to losing it all. He’ll take anything she offers. He’s so happy to still have the chance. “What do I have to do?”

She lets go of his hand to pull a feather from her pocket, a single white feather. “I found this earlier. That’s what gave me the idea.”

He takes it and examines it carefully. Such a tiny thing. It will never be able to hold the weight of the ocean. But she’s asking him to believe that it can. “Do I have to say it out loud?”

“No,” she says. “Just think it. Really hard. And then let it go.”

For a short moment, he makes himself believe that it will work. That he can go back to before, to a time where he didn’t know what it feels like to watch the love of your life dying right before your eyes. “Okay,” he says, closes his fist around the tiny feather and squeezes his eyes shut. It hurts. It will always hurt. But it’s the pain of a memory. They will make new memories now.

He opens his eyes, then opens his fist, holds out his hand into the wind. Watches as the feather is caught by a gust, upwards and away, floating on invisible currents.

Next to him, Scully is solid and real, alive, looking at him like she loves him. “What did you tell it?” she asks, and then adds, “You don’t have to tell me.”

He can’t say it. Not right now. He gave the words to the wind, to the sky, to the open air under rugged clouds that are starting to turn red with the beginning of sunset. Maybe they can come down here tomorrow morning, to watch the sun climb its way back up over the edge of the world. Now that they no longer have to worry about every sunrise being her last.

So he doesn’t speak, instead lifts a hand and gently touches his fingers to the back of her neck, to where he can feel the raised skin of her scar, the evidence of the small miracle that let her survive, that gave her back to him.

“Mulder,” she whispers, and he lets the sound of his name from her lips wash over him; no one else has ever said his name like this. He doesn’t want to hear it this way from anyone else.

He brushes her hair away from her face and answers her smile with one of his own, and as he leans down for a kiss, her breath is warm, so warm against his lips.

[watchingblsnowandforever]

We Are Ep.14: Part 1/3

Hello!!! =D

Welcome back to my crack posts!

Part 2, Part 3

Ep 14 ruined me, just so y'all know. I'm honestly scared for what the next episode will do to me. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Warning: long, long post 😊😅 (also divided into three parts this time because I wanted to screenshot the whole damn thing, but this is next best)

I did not expect Q to be the one to stand up for Phum, but I wasn't really surprised after the last ep. Previously, he'd be the first one to go up in arms, but he's starting to understand maybe everything isn't that straightforward, and despite his friends meddling in his own relationship, he wants to leave Peem alone.

Conclusion: he's a very good friend.

Of course. I should've known something like this would come up 😭

Of course they've taken baths together.

I love this friendship so much.

You again. 😶 I swear to the gods, this guy will give me high blood pressure or something. Please please just leave Peem, alone. Learn to take a 'no' and mantain social distancing.

Peem... you're too kind for your own good. (I get it though)

You have no right to say that, especially without knowing the full story. But I'm feeling kind, so you're still a (mostly) decent human to me. Try not to ruin that impression. And never, ever again say anything to my babie Phum. Ever.

Oh my gods my heart broke for Tan 🥺 Here he was, probably never having dated after he fell for Fang, so knowing that Fang had dated even after whatever they went through must be so painful to him.

FANG KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT'S WRONG AND HOW TO FIX IT.

Just like we see Tan waving away Fang's insecurities every time, Fang does the very same for Tan.

I love them. <33

🥺🫶🏼

They're both so whipped-

Fai: I didn't see anything 👀😗 (we all know she's fangirling so hard inside)

Fai is me, I am Fai.

No but, Phum, are you sure Peem staring at you for a long time won't make your heart race?

Whipped. They're both so goddamn whipped. *sighs fondly*

The horns I'm dying 😭😂

Phum wasn't even surprised 😭👍🏼

Okay, not the best impromptu band performance/concert I've seen, but this is Thai BL, and they need some music and at least like 10 scenes with some band to pass whatever standard of approval, so I'll let it slide. Also, I'm terribly fond of these idiots. <3

HANDS.

They're besties for a reason hehe

You're asking the question, but are you ready for the answer?

I have already gone crazy over this too many times, I really don't have the energy anymore.

Peem is definitely winning Best Non-Confession Confession of the Year Award.

Are we still talking about the painting, or...?

Honestly though, when he was saying this I got actual flashbacks of Phum kicking the ball into his painting and how their relationship developed from there till where they are right now.

HE-

He named it "Happy" because it's all the things that make him happy. 😶

I had to pause here to take a deep breath so I didn't break out in tears two eps in a row.

WHAT IS THIS SERIES DOING TO ME.

Also, taken together, they are a story in 3 pics.

I'm just gonna go sob in the corner.

When faced with that smile and that "na, Peem, na" how could he ever deny Phum anything 😭

Textbook definition of a blushing boy who just became boyfriends with his crush the boy he loves. <3

No, he thinks he's a babygirl and rightfully so.

THIS HUG. That's it. That's all I have to say. I have no words for how this made me feel, and will make me feel for the rest of the forseeable future.

I end Part 1 here. Part 2 and 3 will be out tomorrow (because they are quite a bit long and I have Thoughts about them that I need to write in detail)!

If you've gotten this far, thank you so much for reading!! 😊

Here, have a taco 🌮

[sassenach77yle]

“You thought you were dying when we brought you up here, didn’t you?” I asked. My voice sounded more bewildered than accusing. It took him a moment to answer, though he didn’t look hesitant. It was more as though he was looking for the proper words. “Well, I didna ken for sure, no,” he said slowly. “Though I did feel verra ill.” His eyes closed, slowly, as though he were too tired to keep them open. “I still do,” he added, in a detached sort of voice.

“Ye needna worry, though—I’ve made my choice.”

“What on earth do you mean by that?” I groped beneath the covers, and found his wrist. He was warm; hot again, in fact, and with a pulse that was too fast, too shallow. Still, it was so different from the deathly chill I had felt in him the night before that my first reaction was relief. He took a couple of deep breaths, then turned his head and opened his eyes to look at me. “I mean I could have died last night.” He could, certainly—and yet that wasn’t what he meant. He made it sound like a conscious— “What do you mean you’ve made your choice? You’ve decided not to die, after all?” I tried to speak lightly, but it wasn’t working very well. I remembered all too well that odd sense of timeless stillness that had surrounded us. “It was verra strange,” he said. “And yet it wasna strange at all.” He sounded faintly surprised.

“I think,” I said carefully, keeping a thumb on his pulse, “you’d better tell me just what happened.” He actually smiled at that, though the smile was more in his eyes than his lips. Those were dry, and painfully cracked in the corners. I touched his lips with a finger, wanting to go and fetch some soothing ointment for him, some water, some tea—but I put aside the impulse, steeling myself to stay and hear. “I dinna really know, Sassenach—or rather, I do, but I canna think quite how to say it.” He still looked tired, but his eyes stayed open. They lingered on my face, a vivid blue in the morning light, with an expression almost of curiosity, as though he hadn’t seen me before.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, softly. “So verra beautiful, mo chridhe.”

My hands were covered with fading blue blotches and overlooked smears of buffalo blood, I could feel my hair clinging in unwashed tangles to my neck, and I could smell everything from the stale-urine odor of dye to the reek of fear-sweat on my body. And yet whatever he saw lit his face as though he were looking at the full moon on a summer night, pure and lovely. His eyes stayed fixed on my face as he talked, absorbed, moving slightly as they seemed to trace my features. “I felt verra badly indeed when Arch and Roger Mac brought me up,” he said. “Terribly sick, and my leg and my head both throbbing with each heartbeat, so much that I began to dread the next. And so I would listen to the spaces between. Ye wouldna think it,” he said, sounded vaguely surprised, “but there is a great deal of time between the beats of a heart.” He had, he said, begun to hope, in those spaces, that the next beat would not come. And slowly, he realized that his heart was indeed slowing—and that the pain was growing remote, something separate from himself. His skin had grown colder, the fever fading from both body and mind, leaving the latter oddly clear. “And this is where I canna really say, Sassenach.” He pulled his wrist from my grip in the intensity of his story, and curled his fingers over mine. “But I . . . saw.” “Saw what?” And yet I already knew that he couldn’t tell me. Like any doctor, I had seen sick people make up their minds to die—and I knew that look they sometimes had; eyes wide-fixed on something in the distance. He hesitated, struggling to find words. I thought of something, and jumped in to try to help. “There was an elderly woman,” I said. “She died in the hospital where I was on staff—all her grown children with her, it was very peaceful.” I looked down, my own eyes fixed on his fingers, still red and slightly swollen, interlaced with my own stained and bloody digits. “She died—she was dead, I could see her pulse had stopped, she wasn’t breathing. All her children were by her bedside, weeping. And then, quite suddenly, her eyes opened. She wasn’t looking at any of them, but she was seeing something. And she said, quite clearly, ‘Oooh!’ Just like that—thrilled, like a little girl who’s just seen something wonderful. And then she closed her eyes again.” I looked up at him, blinking back tears. “Was it—like that?” He nodded, speechless, and his hand tightened on mine. “Something like,” he said, very softly. He had felt oddly suspended, in a place he could by no means describe, feeling completely at peace—and seeing very clearly. “It was as if there was a—it wasna a door, exactly, but a passageway of some kind—before me. And I could go through it, if I wanted. And I did want to,” he said, giving me a sideways glance and a shy smile. He had known what lay behind him, too, and realized that for that moment, he could choose. Go forward—or turn back. “And that’s when you asked me to touch you?” “I knew ye were the only thing that could bring me back,” he said simply. “I didna have the strength, myself.” There was a huge lump in my throat; I couldn’t speak, but squeezed his hand very tight. “Why?” I asked at last. “Why did you . . . choose to stay?” My throat was still tight, and my voice was hoarse. He heard it, and his hand tightened on mine; a ghost of his usual firm grip, and yet with the memory of strength within it. “Because ye need me,” he said, very softly. “Not because you love me?” He looked up then, with a shadow of a smile.

“Sassenach . . . I love ye now, and I will love ye always. Whether I am dead—or you—whether we are together or apart. You know it is true,” he said quietly, and touched my face. “I know it of you, and ye know it of me as well.”

He bent his head then, the bright hair swinging down across his cheek. “I didna mean only you, Sassenach. I have work still to do. I thought—for a bit—that perhaps it wasna so; that ye all might manage, with Roger Mac and auld Arch, Joseph and the Beardsleys. But there is war coming, and—for my sins—” he grimaced slightly, “I am a chief.” He shook his head slightly, in resignation. “God has made me what I am. He has given me the duty—and I must do it, whatever the cost.”

“The cost,” I echoed uneasily, hearing something harsher than resignation in his voice. He looked at me, then glanced, almost off-handed, toward the foot of the bed. “My leg’s no much worse,” he said, matter-of-factly, “but it’s no better. I think ye’ll have to take it off.”

The fiery cross

[dotthings]

Finally!!! Some light and hope returns to S7. Made it through the Casless stretch to 7.17.

Some thoughts on Dean and Cas:

Dean's quest to save Sam leads him back to Cas. The mysterious breeze (we know who that is) shows Dean the taxidermy guy's card, and he tells Dean about Emanuel.

"Screw Cas" -- because Cas knocked down Sam's wall and then abandoned them, by dying, or so Dean thought, so Dean's still angry and hurt. Trying not to care, but he still cares

Oh the staring when they are face to face again. Dean cannot seem to stop staring at Cas. That's not me being poetic with a headcanon exaggeration, that's what's on the screen, I didn't make the rules.

Dean watches Daphne and Emanuel a little bit like how Cas watched Dean and Anna kiss. Less furtive. But the open-eyed wounded baby seal longing sense of wonder on Dean's face is stabbing me in the heart.

"What's your issue" -- how much time do you have Emanuel? Okay, in simple terms, Sam needs help. But the things Dean doesn't say is you!! you are my issue I loved you and you betrayed me and then died and I'm not okay I didn't want to lose you and I'm still mad but glad to see you again and I'm a mess and I've been angry grieving, that's my freakin' issue!!!

The golden-amber light washing over Dean and Emanuel's faces in the car. Light washing over Dean with Cas's return, first invented in S7.

Dean's treading carefully. He wants Cas back, he also doesn't want to disturb Emanuel's peace. And Dean's still upset and hurt and angry and not over it but also he's glad to see Cas again. Dean's going through it. And Dean can open up to Emanuel in ways he's not ready to with Cas. "You're angry...he betrayed you." "Yeah, well, he's gone....I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know. Whatever it was. Might take me some time but I always could. What Cas did--I just can't, I don't know why." YES I WONDER WHY THAT IS WHY DOES IT MATTER WHY DOES IT CUT SO DEEP "Well, it doesn't matter why." "Of course it matters." "No. You're not a machine, Dean. You're human." THERE IT IS. After a series of characters telling Dean to suck it up and deal, Emanuel is the one who looks at him and sees Dean's vulnerability and humanity and says it's okay. Some part of Cas is Emanuel, even if he has amnesia, it's instinct, it's things Cas wouldn't be able to open up and say, not at this point, but that he believes. Cas sees Dean even if he doesn't know himself right now.

"Now picture Crowley with his hands on harmless little amnesia Cas" -- soooo interesting how Meg tries to play Dean's worry for Cas into inveigling what she wants. She knows some things.

Dean's pissed at the idea of Meg using Emanuel and turning him back into "an angel sized weapon." He wants to do this carefully. He needs Emanuel to fix Sam, but he doesn't want Cas harmed or his peace shattered. This is Dean trying to let Cas rake leaves.

Dean also seems incredibly annoyed by Meg sidling up to Emanuel and trying to flirt. Protective. Jealous even.

"You just met yourself. I've known you for years." The way that's worded. Dean doesn't just say "I already knew you." He says for years. They've been through a lot. It's like Dean is feeling all of it.

Dean is finally persuaded, for Sam's sake, to let Emanuel break out the angel mojo, but he's reluctant. Knowing what this could do to Cas, the pain he'll experience if his memories return.

That SPN used Turn Into Earth by the Yardbirds, which was the band who became Led Zeppelin, for a music video montage of Cas's memories returning, where Dean is prominently featured in 98% of the images. ACTUAL THINGS SPN CANON DID. Making a Destiel fanvid and stuck it in an episode. Okay.

Where did Dean's anger fly off to? "If you remember then you know you did the best you could at the time." He doesn't think Cas is a bad guy. "Don't defend me." -- Cas has always taken responsibility for his screw ups. Always. And takes a lot on himself to atone. That is how the character has been and he's like that all the way through. And he comes back to fix it.

Dean pulling Cas's trenchcoat out of the trunk of the junker of the week and handing it to Cas. Dean kept it!!!! He didn't just stick it in storage, he moved it from junker to junker, for months, keeping the last piece of Cas Dean had left with him and Sam. The ep that aired isn't even as sentimental as the cut scene--the dialogue we saw in a promo "something in me always knew you'd come back"--yet it's unhinged enough as it is!!!!

"I should never have broken your wall, Sam. I'm here to make it right." Cas always tries to make it right.

Dean doesn't know what's going on as Cas walks over to Sam, and asks "Cas, what are you doing" a bit alarmed. Dean wanted Cas to fix Sam, and they both at first Cas could with just a touch to rebuild the wall, but the wall's crumbled. And there's only one way--for Cas to absorb Sam's Lucifer hallucination. It's Cas's decision, and it's done before Dean can even try to stop it. While Dean of course is glad Sam is okay--that's not how Dean wanted to get there.

At the time it seemed a bit cold that Sam and Dean parked mentally ill Cas at the asylum and left--we'd only just gotten Cas back on the show and he gets shoved off screen again. But there are contractual things--Misha was signed for a 4 ep arc. Looking at it in-story, Dean says he's worried they can't protect Cas, with all that's out there, between Crowley's demons and the leviathans, and Dean says they should leave Cas where he's safe. Watched over by one of their former enemies--but Meg is the only resource they've got who can do it and she's at least playing at being an ally and she does seem to like Cas. It's again Dean's version of letting Cas rake leaves, keeping him safe.

[feralghoulie]

Note: This is a day late, but shh. This one was. Interesting to say the least. Hope you guys it enjoy.. 🤭

MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT. SEMI NON-CON/SEMI FORCE WARNING.

Promt: Somnophilia (Day 3)

Summary: Cooper isn't known for his patience. He takes what he wants, whatever the situation. His thoughts take over his actions while Lucy is sound asleep.

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) X Lucy Maclean

☆

It Can't Wait.

"Oh and in the vault, i was a teacher! I think I worked really well kids. I've always wanted a kid. Did you have a ki-" Lucy was abruptly cut off.

"Listen honey. I'd love to listen aboutcha life in the vault. But don't you think it's a little late to keep talkin. We've got quite the long day ahead of us." He said leaning his back against the metal wall. Eyeing the dying fire in front of them.

She frowned. "I mean. I guess so." She said a little sad. Entertaining herself from talking his ear off. She wanted him to open up but he was more of a listener. Sitting back and nodding his head as she spoke. Eyeing her body, hardly hearing a word she said.

He groaned as he stretched out his arms. "C'mon Luce." He said standing up from the milk crate he had pulled up. Grabbing some old pillows off the ground and beating the dust off. Walking over to the beaten bed across the floor. He tossed the pillows onto it, and searched for something that could do as a blanket.

She took the hint, crawling into bed like a sad child. She unzipped her vault soon, and wiggled her way out of it. The Ghoul pausing a moment to try and sneak a look. He fucking loved when she would walk around in just her tank top and panties.

Throwing obvious glances as he pretended to keep looking for a blanket. He wanted to rip her clothes off. Tear scars into her skin. Mark her entire body. Fuck sleep. His cock was throbbing. All she had done was get comfortable for bed. He needed to contain his thoughts.

He grumbled to himself. Turning to fix his tent. Turning back around, giving up on his short hunt for blankets. Lucy was digging through her bag. On her knees on the bed, her ass looking perfect through her snug underwear.

He assumed she had no idea how much he wanted her. God. He wanted to fuck her brains out. So much innocence and love behind her eyes. Not yet tormented by the wasteland. He needed to be the first.

She pulled out a can of water and cracked it open. Taking a sip and setting it aside. Attempting to get comfortable on the bed. Springs threatening to stab your skin if you moved the wrong way.

"Are you going to be keeping watch?" She asked untieing her hair. Running her hands through her hair.

"Yeah." He responded. Poking the fire with a nearby board. "Don't worry." He said smiling. Reassuring she was safe to sleep.

She nodded her head graciously and flipped from her side to her back. Adjusting her body until she was comfortable.

"Cold?" He whispered. Dragging his crate closer to the bed, and sitting down.

"Yeah.." She huffed. Her eyes closed.

Cooper removed his overcoat and draped it over her. She pulled it close to her face. Smelling it in secrecy. Smiling as a thank you.

"Goodnight... Ghoul." She said softly. Drifting off to sleep as she thought about what his real name may be. What monsters would attack them tomorrow.

Although Cooper had a whole different set of thoughts. He stared at her. Intensely. Her chest poking out just a little bit from the jacket. Her legs almost fully covered.

He wanted to take her. He wanted to rip her skin apart. He wanted her to scream. Not in pain, but in full body pleasure. His fingers would fit so perfectly into her empty pussy.

His textured cock would leave a mark in her mind. No one after him would ever feel as good. He thought of every position. Her breasts bouncing in his face. Bending her over, slapping her ass until it was a swollen red.

He grabbed at his cock through his pants. Holding it tightly. Rubbing his thumb over it. She would puke on the size of his cock. He knew she wouldn't be able to handle it, and that made it all the better.

She must taste sweet. She would be soaked from him barely touching her. She's a delicate and soft creature. He couldn't handle the thoughts much longer.

His cock straining his striped pants. "Fuck.." He said under his breath. Staring at her figure on the bed. Already softly snoring. He needed to bury his cock in her..

He started to undo his belt. Moving with haste. She was asleep, she wouldn't see him get his pants off. No harm, no foul. Once his belt was undone, he slid his pants down. Not having underwear, he got those stolen ages ago.

His pants now pooled at his ankles, he was tugging at his cock. Leaning back against the metal wall. Touching himself wasn't going to be enough. He ached so bad it was almost painful.

Against his better judgment, he quietly stood up. Hovering over her body, standing at the foot of the mattress. He ran through thoughts in his head. Debating if this was wrong. He didn't care.

He squat down. Getting onto his stomach and inching his way forward. Holding himself in a way his cock wouldn't come in contact with the rough floor or bed. He carefully moved his jacket upwards. Off of her legs, scrunched onto her stomach.

He eyed her panties. He adjusted his body, freeing both his hands. He hooked his fingers onto the wasteland. Very carefully pulling them down. Setting them inside.

Her pussy was perfect in every single way. Unshaved, but a little wet. An absolutely inviting smell as he drooled. He got closer, pressing his stomach onto the bed. Drawing his tongue out to taste her.

Sweat mixed with her natural taste made his cock twitch. Holding every single muscle back not to shove his cock into her. He shoved his face into her crotch. Placing his hands on either side of her body.

He drew his tongue out again. Separating her walls with just his tongue. Licking stripes as he indulged in her taste. He was surprised she hadn't started to stir. Afraid she may wake up and jump out of fear.

He sucked on her clit, and balanced with one hand, using the opposite hand to grip onto his cock. Slow sensual strokes as he enjoyed his meal.

Lucy was slowly waking up, feeling an extremely warm sensation between her legs. A heavy weight on her sides. Half conscious she questioned what was happening. Her body feeling deep sparks of pleasure. She opened her eyes slowly, opening wide at what she saw.

The ghoul was ravishing her. His mouth latched onto her clit. She closed her eyes tight and opened them again. Seeing his closed eyes, his hand furiously working at his cock.

She was confused, but couldn't deny she almost happy to wake up to the experience.

Closing her eyes and trying not to move. A little harder now that she knew what was happening.

Wanting to squirm and moan. Unsure if she should let him know she had awoken, she relaxed into the bed.

He pulled back from her pussy, and ran his finger against her wet slit. Sucking on his middle finger and eyeing it. Pressing it and wiggling into her hole carefully.

She couldn't hold back, she jolted and he looked up. She opened her eyes, locking eyes with him. He didn't say anything yet. Just sharing a mutual look of desire.

"Wh.. what are you doing." She said softly. Unsure if she was supposed to be enjoying this.

He kept pressing his finger in. Staring at her as he did so, waiting for it to be completely in.

"Well. I wasn't expectin you to wake up, but i suppose that was a little stupid to assume." He said clicking his tongue.

"I'll stop if you want me to." He said pulling his finger out. Wiping it on her inner thigh..

She was quiet for a moment. Gasping at the absence of his finger. "Um- I don't- you can.. you can keep going." She said accepting she did enjoy this. Being woken up like this was something incredibly new. Not new like seeing monsters, or leaving the vault. But knew as in her body craved it.

He nodded his head and pressed two fingers back into her. Curling them and working them inside. She furrowed her brows and covered her mouth.

He readjusted his body. Now hovering over hers, his face close to hers.

"Move your hand. I want to hear you. I need to hear how much you fuckin like it Lucy." He said in a stern tone. Pressing his fingers deeply inside, setting a faster pace as he looked at her.

She removed her hand, letting out small breaths.

"That's it.." He hummed proud. "You're really fucking tight. I don't know if I'll fit." He said pulling his fingers out.

"Now I know this is probably your first time. Or maybe it's not. I don't know what you vault freaks did down there, but I ain't going easy on ya" He said, moving onto his knees.

Pushing his jacket off of her, so he could look at her pudgey breasts, sitting unevenly in her tank top.

He spread her legs open, and pulled them upwards. Pulling her body forward. Fitting his body between her legs, he lined his cock up with her soaked hole. Leaning in close to her face.

He pressed his face into her neck, and inched his cock inside. Each inch breaking her tight unused pussy. She held onto his back tightly. Using it as a means to ground herself.

"It hurts! Is it supposed to her this bad?" She exclaimed wincing.

"Mmm. It hurts because it's your first time honey. I've also got a huge cock. It ain't gonna fit perfectly." He said in his deep southern draw. Licking and biting at her neck.

Slowly thrusting into her. Deep inside of her every move. She squirmed, unable to handle so much at once.

He didn't care, he kept his pace. Picking up as he growled in her ear. Biting down into her neck, licking over the marks each time. Savoring every single moan that escaped from her lips.

"You like how big my fuckin cock is don't you. You're squeezing me real fuckin tight sweetheart." He said moving faster. Her legs wrapping around his back.

Hitting her so incredibly deep, it felt like he would pass out from the insane pleasure.

"Good fuckin god girl... you're really showin me how much you want it. I know you've fantasized about me. I'm sure you've touched your pretty pussy thinkin about me." He said licking the shell of her ear. Grunting as he felt himself getting closer.

"Ghoul-" She exclaimed.

"Cooper." He whispered. "My name is Cooper." He said pulling his cock all the way out and driving it back in.

"Scream my fuckin name. Tell me how fuckin good my cock feels." He said.His thrusts becoming more sloppy.

Lucy was feeling herself slipping, knowing she was so close to cumming. "C-Cooper! Your.." She paused. Unsure if she would want to use that weird word.

"Your penis feels so good!"

He giggled in her neck. Unable to take her seriously. Never hearing her curse, even while being relentlessly pounded.

Cooper bit her shoulder as he started to empty his load. Growling deeply as he claimed her body as his. The first to destroy her innocent body.

Lucy practically screaming as she felt her climax crashing. It was nothing like she had ever experienced. A undescribeable feeling in her stomach and her core. Gasping for air as she finished.

Slowing his thrusts he removed his mouth from her shoulder. Catching his breath, his cock buried inside of her.

Realizing he had given Lucy his name, he cursed at himself. She hadn't thought on it much, but things were starting to click.

Was she just fucked by Cooper Howard? The infamous cowboy movie star? Her eyes widening as she studied his outfit. Trying to see past the vest he wore. He scrambled to get his pants on, but she watched in awe. Laying on the bed almost fully naked.

"Cooper... Howard?" She said. A questioning tone. "Did I just have a sex sirh a movie star?" She said feeling proud of herself

"Shit." He thought. She had ranted for almost an hour earlier how much she loved the movies he starred in. A novelty cowboy charm.

"Yeah honey.. that's me." He sighed, though smiling when her eyes lit up.

[yaut-jaknowit]

hi there! first off I'd like to say how much I love your stories! rare to see F/F in the Yautja fandom so l can't tell you how much I appreciate reading your Gawtin x femreader stories.

may I request an ask? a smutty one specifically ? I recall in one of your stories that Gawtin and reader mention having a strap on. Could we see Gawtin use it on the reader? Maybe the reader is ovulating (horny) and that really brings out the dominance/ service top in Gawtin. Especially with so many other male Yautja around it'd be so hot to see possessive Gawtin. Well, more than she usually is 😏

Cared For

Pairing: Gawtin (Female Yautja) x AFAB Reader

Warnings: very possessive Gawtin, protective Gawtin, light fighting between two Yautjas, biting, slightly pain kind (if you squint) because of biting, marking kink, use of strap on dildo, WLW, lesbian couple, blood licking, squirting, fingering, choking, multiple orgasms, size difference, size kink, overstimulation, cunnilingus, light aftercare.

Word Count: 3604

Summary: Yautja's have a keen sense of smell. It can be used to aid them in most terms, or to embarrass you. You don't know why it didn't hit you earlier when you're ovulating and everyone is staring at you. Someone decided to have the balls to approach you... he'll come to learn his lesson by a towering force.

Author Note: I love when people request for her. I wish there were more out there with female yautjas. But like my cousin once told me, if there's nothing out there, write about it. And that I did. Thank you for the ask as well. This fits her so well too!

Masterlist

Ao3

This was probably a mistake. Almost every pair of eyes were stuck to your form, watching you sitting underneath a tree. The leaves and trunk offered you protection from the bearing, blazing sun that hung in Yautja Prime’s sky. It was the only way to be outside with your Yautja without being burnt to a crisp. Well, you could wear a protective layer of UV blocking clothing. It wouldn’t be the sun killing you then.

To ignore them the best you could, you bared down on the sketch book in your lap. The pencil you had twirled around your fingers as you tried to fix whatever was wrong with this drawing. Something didn’t look right, but you didn’t know what.

A dull pain twinged deep inside of your lower abdomen. You silently groaned and clenched your teeth in quiet protest. For one day, you wanted to enjoy the good weather. Though, everyone else in the town had the same thoughts as well.  That wasn’t going to stop you. Nor would these stupid ovulating cramps. They were rare to occur, didn’t stop them though.

While all this happened in your little bubble, a male broke off from the group he had been in. Sweat and a thick layer of humidity clung to his scales as he made his way over to you. He couldn’t believe everyone else was just ignoring the sweet scent you were producing. If no one was going to try to gain your hand, then he would.

Oh, how oblivious he was as a newly blooded.

Before he had the chance to get into the shadow of the tree of you sat underneath of, something grasped the back of his shoulder straps and yanked him backwards. With the sudden move, the Yautja was forced to tumble and fall onto his rear. He still wasn’t given a movement to collect himself when a Bo staff shoved into his throat. A heavy foot landed on his chest and pushed what air he had left out.

The blazing sun was blocked out by a female he’s seen before around town. The light haloed her head, giving her a deadly look any female had. He gulped thickly and laid perfectly still on the ground. Nothing was going to make him move unless it was her.

Her weapon was further pressed into a vulnerable spot. It made him gag and choke for air that she barely allowed him to get. She leaned down. Long, thick, red tipped tresses tickling his chest when they touched. A predatory, throaty snarl ripped out of her with a claim.

If he didn’t feel as terrified of dying in this moment from her, he would’ve been so incredibly horny then. Instead, he watched her closely as she stayed above him, seconds away from either killing him or just teaching him a lesson.

One of her massive hands that dwarfed his own, snatched a mandible. The female pulled him up and forced his neck at an awkward, strained angle. “Ooman is mine!” she snapped and tugged on the mandible. For a moment, he believed she was going to break it off. The Yautja released her hold on him and stepped away. He finally was able to breath in a lungful of air.

The female walked over to the ooman and left him to his storm of thoughts. If all females were like this, he’ll need some time to prepare for the upcoming mating season. Paya, bless him.

After the first sound of commotion, you had watched the whole thing through. By God, she didn’t help your situation at all. The dirty thoughts that plagued your mind were an indication of what Gawtin does to you. She made it worse as she strode over to you, plucked you from the ground, and forced you to wrap your legs around her. Well, the best you could with how wide they were.

Gawtin threaded her fingers through your hair and pulled on the strands. Your throat was left to be completely exposed to her. Sharp teeth mindfully pierced the fragile skin that lined the column of your throat. The muscles that lined your legs clenched around you, hips accidentally jutting against her. Pleasure sparking to life.

Curse words were swirling inside of your head, unable to escape. Blood pooled into drops from the newly created wound. A pink, spilt tongue was quick to lick it up. Gawtin purred heavily at the taste and kept you exposed for her to steal more. As she did, her purple eyes found the male she had pinned earlier watching. Not a sound or a move was made as she just stared. The Yautja’s eyes darted away. He had learned his lesson.

This was her ooman.

.

A massive hand shoved you firmly against the edge of the counter. In reaction, you yelped at the sudden movement. Then, a sturdy body pressed into your backside and kept you trapped. Immediately, you knew who it was, felt the familiar heat roll of her form, heard a husky growl filling your ear.

It hadn’t been long after the two of you arrived back home. Gawtin had made a pit stop to good ol’ Bziut-ty’s and little Qui-oky had been dropped off. Bziut-ty had said something to her sister in Yautja. It was far too hush-hush for you to understand. You were also high strung after her display earlier. That hadn’t gone away as you stayed still for Gawtin as she had you pinned.

Embarrassingly enough, you felt yourself clench around nothing. More slick drenched your underwear. You felt the predator behind you tense, chest expanding to take in more air to smell you. Gawtin hunched over you and forced your body further up the counter.

The floor left the bottom of your feet. The edge of the tile counter bit into your waist yet not in an uncomfortable way.

Fingers curled into your waist band and pulled. One simple move tore your clothing from your body. They were thrown off to the side. That same hand grasped the back of your knee and tugged up that leg. Gawtin had your thigh pressed into your side, cunt more exposed for her.

Before continuing with you, she stood up. Barely a second passed and you were turning your head to see her undress herself. Every piece of clothing removed to expose her perfectly formed frame that has borne many children. A feat that had you swooning for her even more. So breathtaking.

A new thought entered your mind. It had you acting it out before Gawtin could pin you back down. Yet, the moment you started to shift around, a mighty hand was placed on your spine and had you restrained. “Gawtin, I want to see you,” you explained with a pathetic whine, filled with hunger for her. She was hesitant before removing her palm, fingers featherlight as they traveled down. They skimmed over the swell of your butt cheeks and fell away.

Now, with a new opportunity, you were able to twist around on the counter. Gawtin’s naked body stood before you in all of her glory, muscles twitching as she eyed you. Your eyes drifted down, admiring every mark and scar that decorated her. Until you noticed something that wasn’t part of her. You bit at your bottom lip and almost tore at the skin there.

Her bottom mandibles twitched before she lunged.

You groaned at the added weight she carefully placed upon your small frame. Gawtin was fit snug between your legs. The feel of something hard rubbed between your slick folds, coating itself for your benefit. Gawtin distracted you and nibbled on your shoulder. Scratches were created, red and irritated looking. You moaned and tilted your head back, exposing more to her in hopes she do more.

The move pulled on the newly clotted bite that she had created. You couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs around her waist.

“I will mark you up. So, no male will even think about getting close to you. You are my ooman. Mine to begin with. Mine to pauk. Mine to please. Mine to mark,” she stated with no room for arguing. Not that you would. What she had said was the truth. Gawtin licked a stripe up from the crook of your neck towards your chin. That’s where she let a lower mandible pressed into the sensitive skin there. Not yet piercing there.

“He could smell you. Smell your honeyed scent fill the air around you.” It took you a moment to process what she said and even longer to connect the dots. She had wanted you to go with her out there. Of course, you were more than willing to go.

She nipped particularly hard at the back of your neck. “Ah! Fuck… you wanted to t-tease them. DI-hm. Didn’t you?” you questioned but already knew the answer. An easy read about her.

A hand shimmed its way between your two bodies and cupped your breast. “What I wanted was to pin you down in front of that male and mate you. No one would dare get close to you again.” God, she was so hot when she talked like that. Your cunt throbbed emptily. In the moment, you would’ve probably let her. But you would have to test that when sober and horny.

Sharp nails teased your nipples. With Gawtin pressing her body into you, you couldn’t arch your back. You couldn’t handle it anymore. “Stop teasing me, Gawtin. I need you inside of me,” you demanded and squirmed underneath her.

Talons bit into the flesh around your breast. This time, her teeth sunk into your flesh and drew a pitiful cry from your lips. Both of your hands came to scratch down her back, leaving nothing in their wake.

Gawtin pulled back to admire her work and watched as red blood pooled at the new wound and dripped down on to the counter. The Yautja leaned back down licked along the marks. Iron met her tongue. She groaned from deep in her chest, eyes hooded over.

Your hands slid down to her hips where the harness rested and pulled. The predator didn’t more an inch. Yet, Gawtin’s gaze snapped to you, eyes pinned down on you. You knew she wouldn’t feel this. It didn’t stop you from grasping the thick, textured, long dildo attached to the harness. The silicone like material was slippery as you stroked it.

“You are a needy little ooman, are you not?” she whispered into your ear, tongue licking the shell. Gawtin let her right hand drift down the length of torso; nails scratching along the way, making you wiggle and writhe. She moved your hand out of the way before letting her two middle fingers tease your entrance. Your back muscles tensed as you tried to arch off of the tile counter with little luck.

With those same two digits, she pushed into you. The sound it made had you burying your face into her neck. She let you. Her fingers – claws dull – curled once about two inches in. The pleasure that sprung to life had you gasping harshly and biting more at your lip. Gawtin started up a sawing motion, slow and mindful. Every three thrusts, she would stop to press her fingertips into that spot. The coordination and speed had you whimpering and keening, hips jutting to meet her. With a simple shift of her body, she had you trapped. You had to turn to different methods.

“Faster,” you begged and forcefully clenched your muscles around her digits. Gawtin listened. Her speed doubled yet she still took time to play with your g-spot.

It took you some time to finally feel the pressure building inside of you. It almost felt like an orgasm but not. At this point, it was far too late to warn her of the enviable as it hit you full force. You tried to curl in on yourself and buried your face into her neck. Gawtin didn’t stop, she refused to. Her fingers solely focused on your g-spot now until you begged her to stop. She did.

You sagged into the counter, legs falling away from her sides and head resting on the tiles. Your eyes were heavily hooded over as you took a moment to breathe and gather your thoughts once more.

The Yautja above you pulled her hand from between your legs and lapped away at the sticky fluid that coated her fingers. You couldn’t help the whine that built up in your throat before biting once more at your lips. Gawtin leaned back down and placed her elbow back next to your head. “I know you smell divine when you are in heat but the taste… Paya, can’t save you from me.”

With that stated, Gawtin shifted her hips back. Her free arm snaked between your two bodies. The tip of the dildo pressed against your entrance for a moment. Then, she sinks it into you.

An overwhelming wave of emotions crashed into you. Your hands clawed at her back, not creating a mark. That didn’t stop Gawtin from pushing further and further into you. “You can take it, you’ve done it before,” Gawtin cooed softly into your ear. She went slow, careful. Every time she felt resistance, she pulled back to the tip and started all over again. Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head as you panted heavily with whines and moans.

“Just a little more.” Then, Gawtin’s hips met yours in a soft clash. With that same free hand, she placed her palm below where your uterus would be and pushed with a bare fraction of her strength. Your muscles rippled down the length of the textured dildo pressing into your cervix. You couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping again. “How does that feel? Can you feel me deep inside of you?” she asked if you could coherently answer.

One look down at you was enough for Gawtin to pull her hips back, to the tip of the dildo and shoving it deep. You desperate, filthy noise released from your throat, echoing back down at you. And she didn’t stop. Deep, fast, and punishing.

Each slap of her hips created ripples down your thighs. Red skin appeared instantaneously with each stinging thrust. Gawtin, the goddess herself, had you singing her name in broken syllables. “Good! So good. Shit, I- You’re so deep!” you sobbed and babbled.

The texture was dragging across your g-spot with each move. Gawtin moved her hand to have a thumb resting on the hood of your clit. The pressure alone had your muscles throbbing. Then, she started to softly rub the callous pad of her thumb.

Fireworks exploding inside of you without warning. A scream entered the air and bared back down on you. But you were already deaf, white noise filling your ears. Nothing blocked your view of Gawtin hunched over you, mandibles twitching with unspoken words. Her tongue darting out quickly tasting the air. The next moment, her head darted down out of the corner of your sight. Pain pulsed in heady waves. Her hips still pounding into you without any indication of stopping, even as your high started to faded.

You weren’t given a moment to rest as Gawtin straightened her back to tower over you. Red coated her inner teeth. This freed up her other hand which was quick to wrap around your throat. It was the only thing keeping you from crashing into the wall behind you.

She continued to rub at your clit, keeping the same pace as before. Every few swipes though, she would press down hard. It sent a shockwave of pleasure up your spine and to the tips of your fingers and toes. You mewled, toes curling and knuckles turning white.

All you could see through the tears beginning to pool was someone passionate about you. Every slap of her hips had you blabbering for either more or for her to stop. In the moment, you couldn’t tell. And it didn’t matter. She was all you needed right now.

Your pussy was still throbbing from the earthshattering orgasm earlier when you felt the tall tale signs of another one. Words fumbled from your loose lips, unable to form anything worth listening to. In all honesty, she looked to be smirking down at you. Your hands – unable to reach for her – claws pathetically at the tiles underneath you. Nothing gave you purchase for what was soon to hit you worse than a planet.

The noises that pierced because of you grew in pitch again. Your chest heaved quicker and quicker, the air whistling from your nose. You were switching from breathing through your nose and mouth. Anyway to quiet your sounds just hare. Gawtin wasn’t having any of that. Why else would the window close by open?

The Yautja’s hand pinched the side of your neck tighter, restricting blood flow to your brain. All thoughts of staying a minute of modesty were thrown out and forgotten. Your sounds grew and grew with each pound of her powerful hips. She could feel how wet you were as it coated her waist and thighs thickly. She softly trilled at the knowledge she and the kitchen will smell like you for the days to come.

With all the signs of your end nearing, the massive alien leaned back down. “You are mine, ooman. Mine!” She emphasize with a few particularly hard and deep thrusts that rubbed perfectly against your g-spot. “Mine to pauk. Mine play with. Mine to care for! All. Pauk-de. Mine!”

As she saw your eyes permanently roll into the back of your head, she lunged once more. Her teeth harshly sink into your soft, malleable flesh. The sharp talons on the hand around your throat scratched and drew more blood. A mess to be cleaned up later.

You screamed out again, voice hoarser this time, cracking at times. All of your muscles contracting as you were hit with a breath taking, shockwave filled orgasm that touch you to your soul. Your hands were desperately claws at tough scales, doing little to even cause discomfort. The muscles that made up your cunt pulsed with each beat of your heart. So strong, it felt like you were on the verge of pushing her out of you. Or trying to pull her impossibly deeper inside of you.

Once the fall began to happen, your body went completely lax in her hold. Your arms were strewn out to your sides, legs hanging helplessly over the edge of the counter. It was only her keeping you up, from slipping to the floor in bile of a boneless body.

Gawtin kept snug inside of you and let the last of the aftershocks faded away. Afterwards, the soaked dildo was pulled free. You keened, body trembling. It dripped heavily with your sticky, thick fluids. Your goddess pulled at the harness until it became loose and tossed into the skin nearby. It would be cleaned, but she had more important things to worry about now.

Two strong, firm arms scooped up your thighs and threw them over her shoulders. You didn’t have even the energy to make a noise of question on what she was doing. Until her long tongue lick up between your rubbed raw folds. You cried out. A hand shaking as you reached out to claws desperately at her. You didn’t have enough strength and let it fall away, boneless.

That same tongue drifted over your clit and sent an overstimulation wave of pleasure throughout your body. Your hips squirmed. Gawtin kept a steel hold on your thighs and started to feast upon you.

Each swipe of her tongue had you pathetically crying out with tears staining your face. “This pussy is mine.” Lick. “Your ass is mine.” Another lick. “Your heart is mine.” Her tongue pushed into your soaked cunt to scoop out what she could get. “Your body is mine.” She dove into you again. The muscle rolled against your g-spot.

Fluid squirted out to cover the dome of her head. Gawtin snarled and plunged back into you with a passion you’ve never seen before. You continuous sobbed out incoherent words. She didn’t stop until you were licked clean.

She scooped you off of the counter and held you to her body protectively. One arm underneath your knees while the other was across your back. In this position, she carried you to the bedroom and set you down in the sea of pelts and blankets. All collected by her. For you.

Fingers danced over the cuts and bites that marred the skin on your shoulders and neck. You drew in a sharp breath with your eyes closed. Some of Gawtin’s tresses rested on your chest or rolled off of your body as she leaned down. Her tongue cleaned over the wounds before she pulled away a couple of minutes later.

Your eyes finally opened. A knowing look thrown carelessly up at her. Gawtin caressed your cheek with a thumb. “I won’t apologize for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken,” she determined.

An airy snort escaped you. You couldn’t your eyes rolling because of her. “I-I won’t ex-pect you to, love,” your voice cracked, dried and scratched from screaming. You attempted to swallow any saliva down to help.

“Good.” Gawtin stood up gracefully, as if she didn’t just pound you into next week. Her hips swayed as she strode away from you. Your eyes fully watching that naked ass jiggle with each step. God, you’re just as bad a man.

[hanadulsetaad]

RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN)

"the truth"

part one part two, part three part 5

Hyunjin's POV: she was dying inside that no one texted her after he uploaded a picture of him and Yeji, but when the notification popped up that Y/N wrote she is happy and called both Yeji and Hyunjin her best friend, he got anxious and didn't know what to do. When Hyunjin saw Y/N again, getting on first day of college, it sort of did something to his heart. He realized he missed her, and it was the first time he didn't talk to her for this long; he felt desperate. He wanted her and the group back, but Y/N was not alone; she was with a guy. And when he realized she was sitting with them, he was taken aback. Hyunjin was born into a family where traditions and reputation were above anything. Hyunjin was taught that since he was born in a rich family, his friends should always match his wealth or should be richer than him. Watching Y/N hang out with a bunch of nobodies irritated him. Later, when he saw Y/N in the pink gown at his father's art gallery event, he couldn't take his eyes off her and thought, "What is happening to me?" Hyunjin felt that this was the first time Y/N didn't come behind him or gave a damn about him, so Hyunjin started to feel attracted towards her. He was pissed when he realized Y/N skipped his party for those nobodies, and all the friend group did that too. He wanted to talk to everyone and make Yeji a part of the group again. Seeing those nobodies and the gang together made Hyunjin mad. And he texted in the group.

Hyunjin arrived at Y/N's place 15 minutes later, his hair still damp from the shower, emitting a subtle fragrance of roses that made Y/N momentarily forget her annoyance. She greeted him with a casual offer of water, but he cut straight to the chase.

"Why the cold shoulder?" Hyunjin's voice was laced with frustration, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/N's irritation flared up as she replied, "Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

Hyunjin's expression softened as he guessed, "Because of Yeji?"

"I don't have romantic feelings for you anymore, Hyunjin," Y/N declared, her voice firm. "You distanced yourself from the whole group and started going out with random girls. Then you didn't even come to Changbin's campaign. I thought you were in Korea for the dance academy, but when I saw your Instagram, I understood why you didn't come to the campaign. Whatever happened in school, I thought that was over. You were fine with it, but you changed after Yeji came back from America. Do you think what happened back then was my fault?"

Hyunjin's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, his gaze fixed on Y/N, searching for understanding. "I didn't date anyone," he began, his tone earnest. "When Yeji left, she tried to contact me, but I told her I didn't want to. After a year, she sent me a letter explaining her part. Even though she was wrong here, she apologized, and I spent the entire year just talking to her."

A pang of guilt flashed across Hyunjin's face, his eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "I just told you that I am dating other girls, but I was actually just talking to Yeji," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "When she came back, I realized that I like Yeji, and I distanced myself from you guys because I was guilty." Each word hung heavy in the air, laden with remorse and the weight of unspoken emotions.

Hyunjin's heart sank as he watched Y/N's numb expression, a veil of pain masking her features. He pleaded desperately, "Hey, talk to me, please. I'm sorry, Y/N. I know she did you dirty, but please, Y/N, at least talk to her once."

Y/N maintained her composure, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "Hyunjin, it's fine," she replied softly. "I don't think I feel like discussing this issue anymore. I need some space from you and Yeji."

Hyunjin's plea hung in the air, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing chasm between them. "Y/N, take as much time as you want, but please, do the project with me and Yeji," he implored.

Y/N's anger simmered beneath the surface, her frustration palpable. "Shut up, Hyunjin," she snapped, her tone cutting. "Are you being for real now?"

Hyunjin recoiled, his words faltering as he struggled to find the right response. "Sorry, I just... um, nevermind," he muttered, his gaze falling. hyunjin said: i miss you.

But Y/N remained resolute, her need for space unwavering. "I miss you too, Hyunjin, but I need space from all this drama. I'm done with it," she declared firmly. "I really need friends outside of our group, so please, let me have my space."

The weight of Y/N's words settled over them, a somber reminder of the rift that had formed between them. Hyunjin nodded solemnly, his heart heavy with regret. "As you wish, Y/N. I just want our old group again," he murmured.

Y/N's expression softened, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. "Don't worry, I won't ruin our group because of Yeji," she assured him. "See you later, Hyunjin. Bye."

Wooyoung emerged from his hiding spot behind the door, a concerned expression etched across his features. "Hey, do you want to discuss?" he asked gently as Y/N returned to the living room.

Y/N shook her head, her resolve unwavering. "Nope, I just don't wanna talk about this topic. Can you tell this to Changbin and Felix too?" she requested, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

A small smile played on Wooyoung's lips as he nodded in understanding. "Okay, love," he said softly, pressing a kiss to Y/N's cheek.

taglist: @lee-knows-cats @midsoulz

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Tally- Doctor Who.

Summary: You’re running from the silence. You’ve been separated from the doctor and the Ponds and life seems to be slowly coming to an end. What if the madman doesn’t come to save you?

Warnings: Fear, pain, mentions of death, dehydration, exhaustion, pet names, mentions of hallucinations, crying.

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x GN!reader. (Platonic or otherwise.)

Word count: 1,151.

The rushing of blood echoed in my ears and my limbs ached with exhaustion. I had been running for god knows how long and I just seemed to get more lost. I allowed myself a break, falling to my knees in the fine, desert sand, chest heaving as I caught my breath. Dizzying pain ripped through my ribs from the stitch I had; I knew I couldn't stop for long. I didn't know what I was running from, but the fear that had acclimated forced me to run. Whatever it was, my body was in fight or flight and my senses told me it was something life-threatening.

An assortment of tally marks stained my skin, and though I knew I was the one who put them there, I couldn't remember why and that chilled me to the bone. The marker pen in my pocket seemed to dig into my flesh as my ears caught a gurgling sound behind me. My head turned slowly to face the noise as my hand grappled to pull the pen from my jeans as the creature came into view. My body felt as though it was sinking into the ground as I scrambled against the ground.

The wind seemed to pick up out of nowhere as it lumbered closer to me, kicking sand into the air around us. I groaned in pain as it blew into my eyes, blinking furiously.

My mind felt fuzzy as the sand finally cleared and I sat up, shaking my head to clear it before standing. My heart was beating a million miles an hour, but I didn't understand why. Fresh markings littered my skin and I stared at them, questions and fears rolling around in my head. My eyes watered as I scraped through my mind to work out what was happening but all I could work out was I was terrified and whatever I was terrified of was causing me to lose my memory.

I let out a few sobs as I fought off my panic before huffing out a long sigh. Now wasn't the time to break down, now was the time I needed to run and find someone who knew what was happening. I had to keep moving. I was in a desert with no food or water and was constantly moving. I wasn't stupid, I knew I had days to live in this condition and I didn't know how long I had been running for.

In the past hour, I had gained a total of 11 extra tallies despite the empty desert around me. My legs were barely holding me up, knees trembling with exertion but I forced myself to keep going. I longed for the wheezing of that beautiful blue box to fill the dry air, desperate to feel the cold metal of her interior on my scorched flesh. And that madman's voice to just tell me everything was okay, that he had fixed everything and I was safe but I had slowed to a stumble.

I didn't have the energy to run anymore and soon I would collapse, the sand would cover me and I would be forgotten to the world. There was no TARDIS on the horizon, no Doctor to save me and no Ponds to make me feel better.

Precious tears streamed down my face as my body gasped for breath, pain flaring through my body as my knees buckled beneath me. I didn't want to die, not like this and not in such a beautifully dangerous place but as hope drained from my body, I was slowly coming to terms with it.

"Y/N!" My head snapped up at the voice and my eyes zeroed in on the gorgeous blue monument ahead of me. "Don't give up, keep going," I scoffed at the hallucination of the Doctor, of course, it was him my dying brain would imagine. "You're nearly there now, Love." I clambered to my feet unsteadily, if I was going out then I might as well use every ounce of energy.

The sun glared into my eyes as I trudged along, feet slipping against mounds of sand. The TARDIS seemed to get closer and I had a horrible feeling that as soon as I reached her, I was going to die. She was like my light that people warned you not to walk into. So be it, I'd die happy if they were my afterlife.

"Nearly there, come on, you can do it." He coaxed me closer, holding open the door as I kicked up sand in my fight to reach him. I held my hand out towards the Timelord, his hallucination blurred by tears as I closed my eyes to welcome death.

But death never came. Instead, my hand was met with the calloused skin of another as fingers curled around my own. He was never a hallucination.

My eyes shot open as the hand pulled me forward, the familiar creaking of the TARDIS door behind me, as I all but fell into the police box and into waiting arms. The pen in my pocket clattered to the floor as I gripped the tweed jacket and buried my head against the time lord.

"I know, you're safe, Love, just breathe." My sobs echoed through the console as my body became overwhelmed with relief and pain, dragging me through a tidal wave of emotion.

I gasped as we sunk to the floor; pain, exhaustion, confusion, fear, relief, and happiness all at once. The chest beneath my head vibrated as softly spoken words carried me through the feelings.

"I've got you, you're safe," he whispered into my ear, my gasps settling to shuddering breaths. "I'm so sorry Y/N," my body leant against him bonelessly as his hand smoothed over my hair, the other rubbing gentle circles into my back. "That's it, good job, Love." Silence followed as I clung to him, the ambience of the TARDIS comforting me. After a few minutes, I tilted my head to look into those beautifully old eyes and smiled weakly.

"Knew you'd find me," I whispered, ignoring my hoarse throat. "Cutting a bit short weren't you." I teased, his green eyes glazed with tears as he smiled down at me, wiping my cheeks gently.

"We had some trouble," he chuckled, "Someone didn't want us to find you but I couldn't let that slide now could I? Not for one of my favourite humans eh?" I forced my arms to wrap around him, gripping the back of his jacket in a hug and buried my head in his neck as the past few days caught up with me.

I was safe now, my body had clocked on to that fact. I couldn't help how my eyes slipped closed as I relaxed into the Timelord's grip, finally letting my body and mind shut down to recover from the ordeal.

He would always save me, no matter what.

[oddballwriter]

The Second

Summary: After going on an unplanned adventure with your best friend and crush, his host, and his host's wife to stop the end of the world, and ending up in an accidental love triangle... square...whatever shape it is, you go back to your hometown to clear your mind. It's a great success for you, helping you reconnect with your childhood friend and even bring him back to continue the fun and show him your life in London. But unbeknownst to you, it seems like it might just cause a rift that is born on one side of the triangle.

Warnings: Love triangle and unrequited feelings. The reader is referred to using she/her. Angst, it's soft but it's there. Third-wheeling. I can't think of anything else but I feel like there's more, if there is just tell me. 

Author’s Snip: This is sort of a pilot for a series idea that I have that involves all kinds of love shape situations, rivalry, and dragging friends into all kinds of avatar shenanigans on accident. So if you guys like this, let me know so that I can prep and have it ready for writing and planning.

Notes: This is not proofread before posting, if there are errors blame Grammarly for not catching it. I might fix them later.  

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 2,892

Tag List: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

What an adventure you just went on. It all feels so unreal when you even try and think about it. Even as you stare up at the ceiling above your bed you find it hard to really digest fully.

Your good friend Steven turned out to be an alter for a person with DID who's named Marc Spector, whom you had not met, ever, throughout you and Steven's close friendship. In which Marc is the avatar and fist of justice for the Egyptian god Khonshu and was living his life while Steven was not fronting, unbeknownst to Steven, and has been playing a game of keep-away with a cult and their leader for a scarab. And you ended up finding all that out when some members of the cult kidnapped you to intimidate Steven and Marc. By the way, Marc is married and has been married, to a woman named Layla. And so you had to go on this whole adventure with all three of them to stop the end of the world, or something, nearly dying on several occasions, and now it's done apparently. Crisis averted. Also, there is a fucking third one.

You're sure that if you told someone outside of your journal and your new group of friends about this, then you would be thrown into a psychiatric hospital in record time.

And that isn't even mentioning all the complicated feelings you're having right now about the love triangle, that only you are aware of. Because of course, you're in a love triangle that the two other people have no idea exists. It's complicated. It was a little complicated at the start, and now it's so much more complicated because now there's another person involved.

Scratch that, four people involved. This is a love square.

Fuck it, now that Jake's here it might actually be a love pentagon now!

Either way, it all has to do with your feelings towards Steven. You had developed them pretty early on in your friendship with Steven because you just so happened to fall into your type. Dork, sweet, funny, and polite guys were your weakness. You tried to fight them off, not wanting to ruin the friendship that you honestly valued with Steven. But he just had this aura and energy that had your heart like a moth to a flame. Some might call it a slow burn. You'd say that it all was fast. But the warmth went to heat that got painful when you found out about Marc and Layla, and thus Steven and Layla.

You're not mad at Layla. Of course not! Why would you? She was there first, technically. It feels bad to say that. Both because you'd have to try and snuff out the feelings that you have, but also because it sounds wrong. It sounds like Steven's an object to be won instead of a person with his own thoughts and feelings. And you never once saw him like that. He was Steven. Nice, sweet, funny Steven.

You knew you needed to move on, even if it hurt. You know you don't have the guts and nerve to be 'the other person' even if you got the chance to be. It would be disrespectful to Layla, and Layla's a great woman. You settle on going back home, to your hometown, to see family and friends in hopes that it'll distract you, maybe even help you get over it if you're lucky. You call up your family who gladly accept the idea and will set up the room that you'll stay in by the time you get there. With that, you pack your bags, get ready for the trip, and head off.

You don't tell Steven that you're leaving to anywhere at first until you're just about to leave, figuring that if he tries to visit you and you're not there he'll assume someone else has kidnapped you and panic. You just send him a simple "As a heads up I'll be out of town for a while. I need a break.", at some point in your trip heading towards your hometown he texts you back with a single "Okay. Sounds nice.".

As it turns out, going around old loved ones really does help your blues. Matter of fact it seems like everyone from your life here heard the news that you'd be spending a few weeks in town and all got together to see you. Your uncle and dad actually threw a little family cookout so that everyone can come say hi to you.

Everyone had questions for you. What's London like? What have you been doing? How's life going over there?

Of course, you can't tell them about all the recent events and you also don't want to ruin your good mood by talking about Steven like you probably would have if this were a trip not spawned from him, in a sense. Overall, everyone's just happy you're back regardless.

You meet a really old face amidst the crowd of family and friends who've assembled. Samson. Sammy. God, you'd know his face anywhere and you know he'd know yours too. You and Sammy have been best friends since diapers. Your moms were friends. Apparently, the story goes that your mom and dad were at the courthouse waiting in line to sign the marriage papers and so were Sammy's mom and dad. Your mothers started talking and it turns out they have a lot in common. By the time both parties left the courthouse, they were in each other's weddings, to which they then found out that they both would be moving into the same area to settle down. Your moms swear that you and Sammy being close in age was just a coincidence but you always joked that it wasn't.

Sammy is hard to put into words. How do you describe the person who's been your best friend since both of you were coloring with crayons and all the way to high school graduations and beyond? The number one person you would talk to about things outside of your parents and through all of the other friends you've both had throughout your lives, the one that has always been the same. Sammy is just Sammy to you, in the most sincere way possible.

After seeing each other at the cookout you catch up on just about everything. What you've been up to, any life milestones you've gotten to while apart. You tell him about London and he tells you about his life here in town. Sammy's gotten up to a few things, had a few girlfriends, and apparently, he's developed his own business. Turns out he's a handyman and locksmith now and makes great money. Gets to make his own hours, so he says. Sammy teases you a bit and asks if you've been collecting British boyfriends. You know it's just a tease but it plucks at the still tender parts of your heart a little. You brush it off and say no.

"No?" Sammy questions, "Come on. Someone like you over there? You're kidding me. You've got to have some guys waiting like a dog for you to come back." he says. You decide to play along in the banter.

"Maybe I do. What of it, Sam-I-Am." you shrug, pretending like he's trying to compete and also pulling out old childhood nicknames. Sammy cringes and the nickname, "Oof, not the Sam-I-Am from kindergarten. You know only my dad called me that until you said it in class. Then everyone started calling me that till fifth grade." Sammy laughs. "Not you doing your shitty British accents when I said I had a thing for British boys back in seventh grade." you reference and make a call back of your own. "It made you laugh and that was my goal." Sammy playfully defended.

For a good half of your stay, Sammy was there, like always, and you would be talking about the old days. Referencing various moments and laughing or cringing together. It felt so nostalgic and good to just feel that bond again, have someone who knows all your little inside jokes and references because they were there when it was formed, and you both didn't want it to stop.

So when the day that you were to go back to London you threw out the idea that Sammy come back with you and continue the fun there. Show him what you've been doing and show him the little life you've created there.

Even though you live in a one-bedroom apartment you managed to accommodate your guest pretty well. You always knew that the pull-out bed extension of your couch that you bought second-hand would have a use someday. You two settled on rules and bases, along with where various things are in case they're needed.

After that, it was just more talking that made the time go by so fast and other things seem so minuscule. You hadn't really paid attention to the fact that you had a brief text conversation with Steven when you got back basically just telling him that you were back and what you're up to right now. It wasn't until he texted you something that sort of snapped you out of it.

You: I'm not really doing anything but my friend came back with me and will be here for a bit.

Steven: Oh that's nice

Steven: Can I meet them maybe?

You weren't sure how long you spent looking at that message, but it was long enough that Sammy noticed. "Something wrong?" he asks. "No," you reply, "Just one of my friends. He says he wants to meet you... if you're okay with that," you explain but hesitate slightly at the end, not really liking the sound of having Steven over right now after being able to get him off your mind. "Sure! I'd love to meet one of your friends here." Sammy responds, "If that's alright with you of course." he adds.

You take a second to weigh it out in your mind. On one hand, having the guy that you have feelings for over after you went on a whole vacation partially because he doesn't feel that way towards you doesn't sound like the best idea. But maybe having Sammy here will reduce that feeling of awkwardness since it can just be having your friends meet each other.

Taking the gamble, you tell Steven that he's good to come over.

The next few minutes are spent continuing to talk to Sammy, making jokes and having banter. When you hear the knock at your door you and a text from Steven that announces that he's arrived. You get up from the couch and make your way to the door, unlocking it and opening it up. And there he is, smiling at you and giving you his usual polite little "hello". You greet him back before stepping out of the way so that he can come in.

Sammy gets up from his seat on the couch and comes to shake Steven's hand. You see Steven hesitate briefly and sort of freeze up before taking the hand shake. You step in between them.

"Steven, this is my childhood friend, Samson. Samson, this is my friend Steven." you introduce them to each other and gesture to them respectively. "Nice to meet you!" Sammy comments. "Likewise," Steven responds.

You all take a seat, you and Sammy back on the couch while Steven takes a chair from your little dining table set. Sammy and Steven have some good small talk back and forth, talking the usual stuff when you meet new people. You can see Steven being a little fidgety, picking at his sweater sleeve, nodding along but having a small crease between his brows. All things that he does when he's nervous or concerned with something, you take it as Steven being shy about meeting and talking to new people like he usually is. You take it upon yourself to sort of help him by bringing up subjects that you know he's good at talking about.

"Steven loves Ancient Egypt and mythos. He knows pretty much everything," you mention. Sammy raises his brows in interest, "Really?" he questions. "Oh yeah," Steven confirms, "I would have made a bloody good tour guide if my superior wasn't out to get me." Steven remarks. You see Sammy hold back a laugh in the corner of your vision, you turn to him and light-heartedly scold him with a "Stop it.". Sammy looks towards you, his smile growing to a shit-eating grin. "Stop it," you repeat, "Behave. I told you not to laugh," you say as you struggle to keep your own laughter in. "He said the thing." Sammy squeaks out before letting a few laughs leave him. You lean in and bap him on the shoulder playfully, "Stop," you warn as you give him a few baps.

Steven lets out a small laugh that only you can tell is his fake trying-to-pretend-I-get-it laugh. "I'm sorry, Steven." you apologize, "Not even 24 hours in and he doesn't know how to act," you say as you look back to Sammy and give him a playful shake. "I'm sorry." Sammy says to Steven, "There's an inside joke to it I swear." he says.

"What's the joke?" Steven inquires. Your face drops, knowing what Sammy is going to say. "Don't you dare," you warn Sammy as you try to cover his mouth, but Sammy already knew that you are going to stop him and is ready to block your hand. You both spend a few seconds lightly wrestling as you try to cover his mouth and he blocks you in some way. "It has something to do with her-" Sammy says before you interrupt him with a "No!" in objection, "British boyfriend!" Sammy announces. "I don't have a British boyfriend!" you object through laughs as you hit him with a couch pillow. You both spend a few moments laughing. When you finally calm down you find Steven looking at the two of you like you've grown and extra head.

You sigh and look to Sammy, "Why don't you explain 'British boyfriend' to him since you want to talk about it so much?". "Okay, okay," Sammy submits. "This one," Sammy says pointing at you, "Had a thing for this one kid who was visiting family for the summer in our home neighborhood back in seventh grade, or seventh year, whatever it's called here. And so we have this joke that he was her British boyfriend. And I used to do a really bad accent to make her laugh and get all embarrassed.", Sammy looks at you and reassures, "I'm not going to do it, don't worry.".

The conversation goes on but you and Sammy can't help but say more jokes that you then need to explain to Steven, which leads to other stories and laughing fits between the two of you. You try to do the same with Steven in case he references something between the two of you, but you find that Steven just seems to sit there and listen, nodding along. You want to try and prompt something but at some point, you're able to sense this weird tension in the air whenever you do.

You aren't too sure what to do. You don't want to shoo Steven out since you've always said that Steven was always welcomed at your place, but the atmosphere is strange between the two of you for some reason. It isn't until Sammy gives something that would get the job done.

"You know, it's really nice to meet you, Steven. But I think the traveling is starting to catch up with me." Sammy says as he stretches his arms out. "Oh, no worry. I was actually thinking of getting out of your hair. You know..." Steven responds, "Since you guys probably had to get out early to get back here." he clarifies. Steven was already getting up to leave by the time he even started talking.

Sammy and you get up also, and you go in for the usual goodbye hug that you and Steven do when parting ways, Sammy shakes Steven's hand again and says his goodbyes.

Once Steven leaves, you and Sammy set up the couch so that Sammy can nap for a bit. You head to your room so that you can take one for yourself and reflect on the meeting. You still have a bit of that feeling of weird tension but figure that maybe Steven wasn't prepared for all the energy that you and Sammy created and all the inside jokes. Maybe a second get-together could help with that. After all, it might be great to have two best friends also be best friends with each other.

Meanwhile, Steven walks back, sitting in his thoughts quietly as he walks until Marc appears in a reflection along the walk. "What's with the long face?" Marc asks. Steven glances at Marc for a moment, "Nothing, it's just that..." Steven opens up with, "I felt like a bit of a third wheel over there." he admits. Marc shrugs, "Well it is her friend from her hometown, isn't it? I'm sure they'd be all chatty with each other.".

"Yeah, I suppose so." Steven replies, "It just felt a bit... off." Steven remarks.

[applebuttercringe]

Arcane episode 8 immediate thoughts

-NGL this is not the direction I thought Mel was going in.

-cool that she is a magical girl though, and made of gold.

-oh it’s the girl her mom killed.

-Mel’s outfit is very fan service

-Leblanc

-this is a lot to introduce in the second to last episode

-Well that didn’t take a lot of convincing…

-Richters funeral

-Time for Viktors T-shot

-Is Ambessa gonna lecture him into living?

-Viktor Machine Herald voice!

-No Viktor you are anti war.

-Oh, so Sky is her own will, disturbed by his actions.

-Do we not see Caitlyn’s reaction to Jayce.

-Ah she thought Loris was Vander

-Caitlyn’s haircut is hot.

-Is she still with Maddie?

-Maddie knows she is about to be cheated on

-Jinx isn’t eating, she is suicidal.

-the hair down

-The Jinx pain train is brutal, this is a lot even for Arcane.

-The Jayce Mel reunion?

-If Mel is untwined with the Arcane then Jayce’s mission will be to end her as well.

-Excuse me what?

-Viktor achieved the ultimate tenderness form? Mannequin.

-Why not come as Huck?

-Well, the Polycule is back together again. This time it is a three way breakup.

-Mel knows how to do the magic at will now?

-Why not explain what you saw? It might not change anything, but he didn’t even try.

-Viktor wants his evil BF back

-Aw man. Villain Viktor. That idea sucks.

-Once again Jayce rushes to Mel lol.

-Is Viktor gonna get broken up with on the astral plane?

-Jinx is finally hearing and seeing Silco hallucinations.

-Killing is a cycle and yet in Ep 7 Vi dying ended the cycle and healed its wound?

-Doesn’t the metaphor not work for Zaun? How do they walk away. They are trapped in the mines working forced labor and banned from Piltover institutions. Is the moral to become passive? Cease to care? How do you forgive and walk away when the crimes are ongoing and inescapable?

-The hug is good

-IS JINX GOMNA KILL HERSELF?

-That’s her resolution?

-Jayce’s self made leg brace perfectly fixing his untreated wound is bullshit.

-The shoulder armor is a CHOICE Jayce.

-How did he manage to get them together? They hate each other? His proposals for peace don’t work but he can get them talking and civil from off screen? Arcane is really abandoning the Zaun v Piltover thing. Like, straight up pretending it was never happening.

-Caitlyn gasses these people like a month ago.

-Yeah, start treating the Undercity as people so you can draft them. Whatever.

-Why the emphasis on the pianist

-I knew they were gonna abandon it but this is unreal to watch.

-Sassing your gf during her mental breakdown is insane

-Caitvi sex scene in a prison cell lol

-Maybe care that this is cheating

-Freaky~

-Damn

-The Tumblrinas are gonna love this

-The Medea’s scene is good

-She can touch embers with her bare hands

-Ambessa you’ve been trying to use Hextech for magic, TF do you mean you hate magic.

-Is there a delay on Viktor saying stuff and the clones saying it? Cause that happened a while ago.

-The song. So this was real Sky all along. She just really wanted him to use the Arcane this way. If this was the intention she should have had more S1 screentime to build up their relationship.

-He is letting them kill her again

-He’s gonna become Warwick?! That is a twist

-EW THE FEET SHOT

-He’s kindred? It isn’t a mask? It’s his head?

Ok so thought: This is a fumble for me. It feels like they are abandoning all the pre established plot and just rewriting the characters into new plots and then rushing those new plots to hell and back. They aren’t finishing what they started. The Jinx pain train is disappointing. Like, more Jinx being self loathing and suicidal, cool. Likely she will have a turn around in this last episode but. IDK. Did I like the time I spent with Arcane? Yes. Is it peak anymore? No. Sorry.