#so he leaves and he knows she can understand and he tells himself it’s more fair to her to let

[livmightlive]

Legend’s real fiancé/fiancée

this is probably my dumbest one yet

The chain has picked up on Legend occasionally mentioning a fiancé. He gets flustered every time. It’s one of the only real ways to catch him off guard. Since it’s a Link trait to be nosey, everyone is WAY up in Legend’s business. Each time they mention it though, Legend just blushes and waves them off.

The chain meets Fable at some point and she’s cunning, sarcastic, and funny. She seems like a very good match for Legend and… She goes doe eyed around him. She can’t take her eyes off him and she seems to hold onto his every word. Sky can recognize her affection for her hero from a mile away. He’s so happy to see that he’s not the only one in love with a Zelda. Twilight hangs over his shoulder, also understanding the love between a princess and her hero. So they slide up to her and asks if she and Legend are engaged. Her reaction is a little shocking. Her eyes go dark, her posture rigged. Her good mood is ruined. No. She’s not his fiancée but she wanted to be and tried. There’s so much she could offer him. They could be so happy. But no. To both men’s horror she has angry tears in her eyes. “I hate his stupid partner. It’s just.. AUGH.” She stomps away to sulk.

When the chain meets Ravio it all clicks. The man practically hangs off of Legend, linking their arms, hip bumping him as he passes. For Hylia’s sake they’re ROOMMATES. Time and Wars share a knowing look. During the war Ravio was always mentioning a special someone after all. So Time and Wars slide up to Ravio, teasing grins and all. They ask him if Legend was his bunny. They ask if the two are engaged. Ravio gets a wistful look on his face. It’s a bit sad and a little confused. Ravio tells them all about how he had asked Legend if he wanted to be more than roommates, not necessarily engaged, but partners. Legend apparently turned him down with lots of grace explaining he was already taken. Ravio had thought that maybe Legend was put off by them being mirror counterparts of each other, that could get pretty weird to be honest… but… it couldn’t be more weird than what Legend had!! Who he was engaged to! Ravio goes to the cellar to find the hard cider they make TOGETHER from their apples from the orchard.

Wind and Four are hanging out an a beach when a seagull joins them. Between Wind’s affinity for ghosts and Four’s Minish magic, they can understand her squawking. She asks about Legend, she’s very worried about his wellbeing. She relieved when they tell her he’s doing well. They piece together that this is the lovely Marin Legend has spoken of on more melancholic nights. She must be… ah it all makes sense. Fable’s frustration, Ravio’s hurt. Legend must’ve been engaged to his dream girl. The girl who he had to leave behind. The girl that still keeps vigil over him even when he doesn’t know she’s there. He must be unable to let go… So they ask her if she’s Legend’s betrothed. Somehow, for a bird, she puts on a stank face. Her feathers ruffle, she smooths them down with her beak. Ahem… no she’s not. She looks annoyed for a bird. Even while Legend was sleeping and she was there as his literal dream girl, Legend didn’t even go so far to kiss her. He just had such a strong feeling that somebody else was waiting for him… When she started a new life, that of the sky and sea, flying as a bird, she went to see who this person who was so special to him was and… she huffs and flies off, leaving a plume of feathers behind.

The chain ends up in Labrynna and there they meet Ralph who is ecstatic to see Legend. He also wears just as many if not more rings than Legend himself does. Wild and Hyrule exchange a look. Could it be possible that one of those rings might be a wedding ring? So Hyrule and Wild ask, probably too directly but Ralph… He sighs, shakes his head. When Legend came this way it seemed everyone had wanted chance to go on a date with the hero. Ralph wasn’t excluded from that group… but by the time he asked Legend to do something sometime, maybe something a little romantic, Legend kindly shot him down and told him of his engagement. Ralph was like ??? we are 15. (At the time of oracle of ages) Ralph gets a strange look on his face. He tells the chain that Legend’s betrothed is HERE. In Labrynna.

so of course they beg to meet this person. Everyone has so many questions. Legend has so many people that want him, who are so into him. How does this person surpass all of them? Legend, blushing like a maiden, agrees to introduce them. He leads them through the forest.

and this is her.

when he introduces the chain to a tree they think he’s lying. Not just a normal tree, but a talking one. A talking tree that’s annoying. She’s so offended when they don’t believe Legend. She demands her fiancé, omg is this real??, make them apologize. The chain doesn’t know what to do. Legend hugs her bark and she giggles. Hyrule breaks away from the chain. He looks concerned. “Legend. You were 15 when she proposed. How old was she?”

pandemonium breaks out when he mentions she must have been somewhere over 400 years old. He tries to claim that she’s like their age in tree years but it doesn’t really work.

idk if they stay together after this but I couldn’t get this stupid idea out of my head 😭 I hope somebody enjoys this!

[telluriannovice]

Day 3: AU Kiss

Fantasy AU

Danny stepped out of the carriage and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. The castle in front of him was massive and made of a dark, green gray stone. It almost looked abandoned, but servants still appeared to lead Danny from the driveway to the entry hall, and further to the throne room.

Danny knelt when we was brought in front of King Vlad, the man who ruled their small kingdom. He was a count that should have been no where near the title of king, but his great uncle had suddenly named Vlad heir and crowned prince not long before dying of a mysterious illness. He shouldn't have been king, but he was, the ruler of Danny's world, and he had asked for one thing.

"My servants tell me you claim to be the son of Jack Fenton and Madeline." King Vlad asked from his throne.

"I am, your majesty." Danny said while staring at the floor, too scared to look up.

"I take it you're here to plead for your mother?"

"I am, your majesty."

"Plead then."

Danny swallowed again and took a deep breath. “If I may ask, why my mother? I understand she’s beautiful, but she’s disliked by everyone who isn’t my father.”

“Did she tell you how she knows me?”

“My father told me, you majesty.” Danny said. “The three of you went to the magic academy together before you inherited your title.”

“Did he tell you why I left the academy?”

“I – Father said there was an accident, your majesty.”

“Did he say who’s fault it was?” Danny didn’t want to answer, so King Vlad answered for him. “It was your father’s fault. He ruined my life, sent me to a hospital for years, married the woman he knew we both loved, abandoned me to the sickness his mistake cost me!”

Danny had to hide his shaking, he had a feeling that was what this had been about, more revenge against his dad than any desire for his mom, and knew it would be hard to convince the king of anything. He forced himself to speak, his voice soft and trembling, “Does it have to be her?”

“What was that?”

Danny took a deep breath and repeated himself, “Does it have to be my mother? Can it be me?”

King Vlad was quiet for a moment. “You? Instead of her?”

“My parents – they aren’t worth much." Danny stated, his words tumbling from his mouth desperate to make the king believe them. "They’re anti-necromancers, even though they use their knowledge to fight against the undead, they’re still considered abhorrent. I haven’t studied the dark arts at all, I don’t have their negative reputation, not outside of being their son.”

Vlad gave a slightly disbelieving hum. “You do realize I want Madeline as a wife.”

Danny nodded hard, “I understand that, but I don’t care. Wife, son, slave – take me in whatever way you want, just please leave the rest of my family alone.”

“Are you sure?” He still didn't believe Danny.

“Yes.”

“Even if you never see your family again?”

Danny choked down a sob at just the thought of it. “Yes.”

“How do I know you wont run away?”

Danny took a risk and glanced up. King Vlad was seriously questioning him, staring at him with such an intense look it sent a shiver down Danny's spine. Danny didn’t know how to prove his commitment, to this plan and his family if not the king himself.

Then Danny remembered an old custom. Some people still did it, but it was an odd, intimate custom that was often uncomfortable to both parties, and considered humiliation to the offering side. That’s both why it’s fallen out of fashion, and why it’s taken so seriously when someone does do it.

“M- may I approach you?” Danny asked.

Vlad quirked an eyebrow but nodded.

Danny slowly made his way up the throne’s dais and up to King Vlad himself. Danny knelt again and began to untie the king’s shoes. King Vlad caught on on immediately to what he was doing and lifted his foot to make it easier. Danny pulled off the shoe and sock and kissed King Vlad’s foot. The toe for loyalty and obedience, the ankle for fidelity and allegiance, and the calf for fealty and devotion. A simple but intimate custom that pledged Danny’s mind, body, and soul to the king.

“Very well.” King Vlad said as Danny redressed his foot. “I’ll send a messenger to your parents, they can come visit you, but you will never leave my side.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” Danny bowed low. He did it. He really believes he saved his family from being torn apart.

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger part 19

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother. Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet / next

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes.

Please check out the poll at the end of the chapter!

Two young adults were sat in silence in one of the rooms of the palace, an owl sat in the windowsill, ready to both intervene, and relay information to her mentee and friend, and his wife. For an hour neither spoke, not knowing what to say, but time was ticking as guests of the palace trickled in, coming from far and wide for the celebration.

Awkwardly, Ónoma started the conversation. “So, you like me.”

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed about it.” Telemachus answered, somewhat angrily.

“I am disappointed though.” She stopped him from interrupting her. “It’s not because you are not good enough or anything, I just thought that, for once, I wasn’t just a woman, a potential partner to someone. I thought it was just friendship, true friendship, but now I don’t know.” She trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

“We are friends, you are more than just some girl, that’s why I like you.” Telemachus started, but Ónoma cut him off.

“I don’t know if I can trust your intentions. You are the greatest, sweetest, most thoughtful friend I’ve ever had, but I can no longer tell if that’s because of who you are, or if it is because you wanted something more from me.” She explained. “And it sucks, because I don’t want to paint you as some manipulative mastermind, but my mind can’t help but wonder. It’s not far-fetched either, because your father is a known wordsmith and you’ve been taken under Lady Athena’s wings as well.” She paused. “I don’t want to hurt you by suggesting that you could’ve done that, but you must understand why I might think that.”

The prince was silent, speechless even. Matters of the heart are truly the greatest challenge one can face. After a long pause he came to a conclusion. “Perhaps it’s best if I keep my distance for a while, to get over it, you know.”

“Or we could find you a nice princess tonight.” She offered hopefully. Both of them knew Telemachus’ solution was the best one, but neither wanted to go without the other. Through the years they’d developed an almost co-dependency.

“It’s worth a try.” He replied, taking her hand and holding it to his chest for a moment. It only broke his heart to hear her suggest considering other women, but for now, with her hand near his heart, it ached a little less.

When the two friends got to the main hall, the party was already in full swing. Ónoma felt entirely out of place amongst the royals and nobles in attendance. She spotted Odysseus talking animatedly with a man she assumed to be Diomedes of Argos, king Nestor was also easily recognizable, his age a dead giveaway, but aside from that she could not conclude who any of these people were.

Most of the man’s comrades from the Trojan war were no longer amongst the living, so she wondered if he himself even knew these people, or if this party was more strategic than she’d first thought. An opportunity of diplomacy, under the guise of celebration. The man had relied on Xenia a lot during his journey.

The last people to arrive were easy to recognize, Helen’s beauty was easily recognizable, and Menelaus was, well, Menelaus. He was not unpleasant, but there was something off about him. At least he wasn’t his brother, Ónoma would not be surprised if Agamemnon had a spot in Tartarus. All that she’d heard about the man was rather unpleasant.

The celebration had gone by surprisingly well; Ónoma had had a discussion with king Nestor, the man truly had learned a lot in his long life and had some meaningful insight in certain things. Diomedes had approached her, asking about her role in fighting off the suitors commended her bravery. She’d let the sexist undertones slide, not wanting to get in trouble with him, but she’d appreciated the praise none the less.

Menelaus had mistaken her for a palace slave, and she’d awkwardly redirected him to the servants. She did not receive an apology from him, but his wife had been pleasant enough. Their daughter had been even nicer, Hermione had been able to marry the man she wanted to after the passing of Neoptolemus and had been thriving ever since. After speaking about her with Telemachus, however, she learned that she was not a fan of the girl, with what she’d tried to do to Andromache.

Polycaste had been incredibly pleasant company. She’d ended up talking of her troubles with the daughter of Nestor, leaving out some details, but the girl had had interesting views. Her father’s wisdom had clearly rubbed off on her. Perhaps she’d be a good match for Telemachus, the two of them seemed to get along quite well.

Even more surprising had been the actions of the Ithacan king, he’d apologized to her and had proceeded to boast about her to the other attendants; how she’d defended his wife, gaining the aid of a God in doing so, how she was vital to the workflow of the island and of her duties in the temple. Perhaps this was his attempt at making things right after his previous actions, but Ónoma did not appreciate all the attention, even if she recognized that he had good intentions.

Telemachus did not appreciate the attention his friend was getting either, sure he’d promised not to act on his feelings, but that didn’t mean they no longer existed. Competing with a God was bad enough, now there were other princes, even kings vying for her attention. not that she showed interest.

At the end of the night Ónoma had danced more than she ever had before, being unable to refuse any of the men who’d asked because of their status. She all but ran home the second she was able to do so. she was dizzy and exhausted and promptly passed out the second her head hit the pillow, still wearing the fancy clothes and jewellery.

A/n: If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know. I might mess up, but you can always check out the tag "epic the stranger saga" as all works related are tagged with this.

I might make a spin-off/ alternate ending series, since this series is nearing the end. let me know if you'd be interested in the following:

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target

@barrythestrawberry041

@darling-eos

@doodle-with-rhy

@glaciuswduo

@hardbarbarianfox

@h0ne4bee

@isla-finke-blog

@keikeiluvyou

@missam

@suckerforblondies

@trashcannotbealive

@visha1965

[arysacris]

Caleb x mc (sfw)

word count: 490

"Caleb."

His eyes were desperate and wild, like a cornered animal. She rarely saw him like this, his control was usually unquestioning, but when his anxiety did break through, it was... Devastating.

"Caleb."

He grips her shoulders so tightly, his words are terrifying - especially because she knows what he means. And she knows he can't go on like this, or he'll just fall apart. The bruises on her arms from his grip are nothing, they'll fade, but his fear- His fear won't. His fear had been dulled by years of stability before, but now it bursts out under pressure, finding the slightest crack in his defenses.

It hurts her to know that something has brought this fear back to life in Caleb in the past year, and it hurts even more that she's the reason he's losing control.

"Caleb."

He flinches as if he's been struck when he finally hears her. She doesn't pay attention to it - yet. Instead, she silently pulls him close, like she used to when they were younger, holding him tightly. The position is uncomfortable: he is taller than her, and his hands are still unconsciously digging into her shoulders, but it doesn't matter. He is tense, like a taut string. His breathing is heavy, fast and hoarse, and his heart is pounding at an unusual speed under her ear.

She raises her hand awkwardly - he finally unclenches his fingers, as if scalded, and in another situation she would certainly laugh, but now she just runs her hand through his hair, pulling him closer. She doesn't remember the first time she realized that this calmed him, but every (rare) time she found him in a similar state, he allowed her (although perhaps he simply did not have the strength to push her away) to offer comfort.

A few moments pass and he exhales sharply, suddenly leaning on her, almost falling, like a puppet with cut strings. This is familiar too. Now he will pull himself together and stand up, as if nothing happened, looking at her again with sadness and regret - as if he is worthless, as if she has forgotten something, as if she will leave him--

But instead he hugs her too, burying his nose in her disheveled hair. He closes his eyes with a conflicted expression - she does not see it, but knows him well enough, despite a year of separation.

He whispers something completely unintelligible, she understands only echoes of nostalgia in his voice. But it is okay. She tells him, as always:

- We are okay now, Caleb.

Because it is. As long as each of them is alive, everything can be fixed. He almost never lets her see his struggle, shielding her from all the problems, but it is okay. She has plenty of time to convince him to rely on her at least a little. She doesn't want to see him break down one day after taking on too much.

[frickatives]

[a/n]:: I've had this steddie one-shot fic in my drafts for ages. wasn't sure if I'd ever get around to posting it. but it's 2025 now, and the world is feeling like an especially difficult place, so let's all post our self-indulgent angsty fanfics pls. the steddie is pretty low-key in this one, tbh, it's more pre-steddie angst than anything, but we all deserve to engage in a little wish fulfillment re: eddie at the end of s4, no? I have some ideas for maybe continuing this fic, sooooo we'll see if I can defeat my Serial Fic Abandoner demons~

[warnings/tags]:: steddie, angst, perhaps too much angst, canon-typical gore and violence, bisexual king steve harrington pov, everyone's having a bad time, gratuitous italics, playing fast and loose with a vague understanding of life-saving resuscitation procedures, s4 ending fix-it fic vibes

[wc]:: 3.3k

[ao3]

-------------------------------------------

Standing on the front porch of a rotting house in a rotting world, staring at the charred patch of not-quite-grass where there should have been a body, Steve Harrington's stomach lurches up into his throat. He struggles to swallow around it.

He saw the bastard fall. Pumped full of buckshot, molotov-fried extra crispy over rice, falling ass-first out of a window to what was supposed to be his death, so goddammit, where is he?

Nancy's staring at the grass, too, heaving terrified breaths with the rest of them, which can't be good. Steve and Robin both glance at her, their leader, their ferocious, fearless, capable, whip-smart Nancy, and the fear plain on her face grabs Steve by the spine and shakes. 

Maybe Vecna evaporated, he tells himself. Maybe it's normal that there isn't a body. It isn't like any of them would know; none of them have ever killed an evil wizard, before. Maybe Vecna hit the ground and turned into a million of these little flakes of gross that are always hanging in the air, here. Maybe they kicked Vecna's ass so hard that he's dust, now. A hysterical part of his brain bubbles with the words maybe his ass is grass. 

He opens his mouth to say so, even though it's dumb and probably wrong – Steve is usually wrong – and the clock behind them starts chiming.

His stomach does new, awful acrobatics. 

They run back into the house, stopping short an arm's length from the grandfather clock, as if it might lash out at them. Four chimes, each one pumping his own chest full of buckshot, because whatever this means, it's probably bad. Robin's hand finds his arm and he clings to her as hard as she clings to him. 

The name is out of Nancy's mouth before Steve's brain can put together what's happening: "Max."

She's right. Of course she's right. She's Nancy Wheeler, and she's always beautiful and always right, even when she's breaking Steve's heart.

There's no time for the pain to take root. (They lost Max, they lost Max, they weren't fast enough and Vecna got her and now that sweet-and-sour kid will never terrify him with her temper or her underage driving again–) 

The fourth and final chime has hardly stopped echoing in his ears when the house cleaves in two. 

The ceiling above them groans and splinters and red-orange hellfire (red-orange like Max, his stupid, useless brain supplies) carves a line down the hallway, moving towards them fast. 

"Woah, woah, woah, shit– shit!" he yelps, dragging Robin back towards the door. 

Nancy doesn't need dragging; she's jogging backwards with him, sawed-off tucked against her shoulder, eyes not leaving the tearing, ripping, growing split in the world above them, like she expects Vecna himself to reach through it. 

God, Steve hopes he doesn't. He hopes Vecna really is dead and that his disgusting, decaying world is falling apart without him. 

He hopes that Nancy was wrong (for once) about the clock chiming, and that they did save Max. 

Bits of plaster rain down around them. Vines – those slimy, sentient veins of the Upside Down – pry the fissure wider, shredding everything in its path. 

They make it out onto the not-lawn and leap out of the way of the destruction as it darts forward and swallows ground where Vecna should have been, and they keep running with everything they have.

It's so loud. The entire world groans and shakes like some great, wounded beast – and, shit, for all Steve knows, the Upside Down is some giant creature that's dying with them inside it. Every monster and vine-vein writhes and screams, like they can feel their world dying, too. 

They need to get back to the trailer. They need to climb out of this crumbling hell. Steve clamps his hand around Robin's as they run. Nancy sprints ahead of them, the sawed-off shotgun bouncing against her back.

He will get them out of here.

They run and run and run – Robin runs so weird, why are her feet doing that – and Steve can't feel the burn in his legs that he knows is there. He's still a little oxygen-deprived after being throttled by Vecna's vine-veins, and he has too much panic thumping through his own vine-veins. They don't stop until they're bursting out of the woods and into the trailer park.

Steve's heart stutters. There's another hell-fissure, and it's swallowed half of the Munsons' trailer and cut a jagged path toward the center of town. Nancy looks over her shoulder at him, as if to brace him for the worst. 

What if the gate is gone? What if they're trapped here? 

Robin almost eats shit when her sneaker slips against something on the ground – the wriggling body of one of those fucking bats Steve can still taste in the back of his throat. He grabs her elbow and heaves her upright, pushing her forward, towards where the trailer used to be. Maybe the gate is still there, in the not-eaten half of the trailer. They have to try.

All around them, the rips in the world continue their rampage. Metal screeches and avalanches of rubble rumble in the distance. The not-grass and slabs of cracked concrete beneath their feet buck hard enough that Steve can hardly keep himself upright.

Robin half-gasps-half-shrieks in his ear and he and Nancy freeze.

"What– What is it? Are you okay?" Steve yells at her over the cacophony, gripping her shoulders, eyes wide, heart pounding, looking down at her weird-running feet for any sign of injury.

She raises a trembling arm and points at something: a lump on the ground a few dozen yards from the trailer, not very large, wearing a ghillie suit. 

Steve's heart stops.

His knees threaten to buckle. 

"HENDERSON!" 

He's off like a sawed-off shot. 

He was so stupid, to let the kids out of his sight. He wants to reach through time and slug himself in the mouth for ever complaining about babysitting because this is so much worse. First Max (please, please let her be alive), now this? It would kill him to see any of them here, now, with the underworld falling apart around them, but Dustin? 

As he closes the distance, the ground is littered with more and more bats – either dead or dying – and he can hear Dustin crying, which is both a knife through the heart and the biggest goddamn relief Steve has ever felt. At least the kid is alive. A sob lurches up Steve's own throat and he falls to knees beside Henderson and–

That's when he sees Eddie cradled in Dustin's arms. 

Bloodied, battered, and motionless. 

"Dustin, hey," he says as gently as he can, though he actually wants to start screaming and never stop. "Look at me." 

"He– He didn't come back through with me," Dustin chokes out, still staring down at the boy in his lap. The kid's voice wavers with a tearful vibrato that obliterates his usual precociousness and makes him sound exactly as young as he is.

Anger flares somewhere in Steve's gut, beneath the all-consuming fear. He'd told Eddie, hadn't he? He'd given him one simple job– explicitly told him not to be a goddamn hero. They were supposed to be the diversion. They were supposed to be safe.

Steve grabs Dustin's face, probably too roughly, and forces him to look up, away from Eddie. 

"We gotta go," he tells him, his voice shaking badly, too. 

Nancy and Robin are somewhere behind him now. He hears their footsteps skid to a halt, and another ragged gasp out of Robin, followed by a muffled cry. Nancy murmurs, "Oh, no."

"We can't leave him," Dustin says. His face is streaked with tears and his voice cracks under the combined crushing weights of puberty and desperation. 

"We won't." He reaches over and tries to lift Eddie away from the kid, but Dustin pulls him back. Small hands grab ahold of Eddie's collar, refusing to let go. Another knife through Steve's heart. 

"I think this is the gate!" Nancy calls from far away. "I think we can make it through." When Steve looks up, she's on the edge of the glowing crevasse, prodding at it with the shotgun. Robin is standing a few yards away, still, her hands buried in her hair and her eyes glued to Dustin. And Eddie. 

"Dustin," Steve says, forcing more calm into his voice, "you gotta go with Nancy."

Dustin shakes his head emphatically. "No. No, no, I can't leave him–"

"Robin? Robin!" Steve shouts over his shoulder, and Robin startles out of her horror-borne trance. "Take Henderson and get somewhere safe. I'll be right behind you." 

She rushes over and hooks her hands under the kid's arms and hoists him upright, even though Henderson can't seem to put much weight on one of his legs, and even though Robin's arms are about as strong as wet spaghetti on a good day. 

"I've got Eddie, alright?" Steve says firmly, looking Dustin in the eye and pushing him away with Robin. "Go."

 A stream of soothing sounds is falling out of Robin's mouth rapid-fire, and she's dragging Dustin over towards Nancy, who's got one leg fully inside the fracture in the world, and, hell, the world is probably ending any second now, but all of that falls away when Steve looks back down at Eddie's face.

Big, hickory-brown eyes stare skyward, unfocused. Blood is smeared across the pale skin of his cheek and collected in the corners of his mouth. His chest isn't moving.

Steve's never seen a dead person, before. 

He'd been there when Billy died, yes, but he hadn't seen it. Hell, he'd flat-out refused to look inside the open coffin at his grandmother's funeral when he was a kid. But here was Eddie– or, the absence of Eddie, where Eddie should have been. A terrible, wretched vacancy. 

It doesn't feel real. Eddie is right here. Steve can reach out and touch him– he does reach out and touch him, laying an uncertain hand on his shoulder. Eddie doesn't swat his hand away. Eddie's dimples don't appear on either side of his bloody mouth and he doesn't say something snarky and flirtatious that makes Steve feel simultaneously annoyed, flustered, and confused. Eddie doesn't so much as blink.

He's so… still. 

Steve's heard people in the past describe death as something peaceful, but the look on Eddie's face–

He looks scared. 

Steve thinks he might throw up.

He presses his fingers against Eddie's throat, searching for a pulse that he knows isn't there. Eddie's still warm. Blood dribbles out of his mouth and oozes out of a gnarled lash across his neck (it matches the one that crisscrosses Steve's neck, those fucking bats). His stupid leather jacket is shredded. His stupid Hellfire Club shirt is similarly tattered and soaked through with red. 

Steve wonders how long he's been– if he– had he gone in front of Dustin? A fresh wave of anger licks at his throat. Son of a bitch, can't even listen to simple goddamn instructions–

He remembers the last thing Eddie said to him with a sharp pang: "Hey, Steve? Make him pay."

Steve had nodded. Eddie had nodded, too. It was a promise.

And Steve Harrington, King Steve, captain of the basketball team, and captain of the swim team, and ice cream slinger, and video rental wrangler, and monster fighter, and lifeguard for a few summers, and secret Russian base infiltrator some other summers, and lapsed babysitter– he's failed to keep it. 

He's failed so many people, tonight. He couldn't stop Vecna, didn't make him pay. He couldn't help Max, or undo whatever Dustin saw. Everything he was wasn't enough.

Nancy was right (she always was); he was bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. 

The world around them growls again, and Steve looks down at another person he's failed to protect, and he thinks, Fuck this. 

He has to try. 

Moving quickly, he laces his fingers, locks his elbows, places his stacked palms in the center of Eddie's still-warm chest, and presses down hard. He sings Dancing Queen under his breath, out of tune, timing his compressions to the beat (something he learned in lifeguard training). He dares Eddie to wake up and tell him how much he hates the song. 

Blood spurts out of a wound in Eddie's side and soaks the knee of Steve's jeans with coppery warmth.

 "Shit, shit, fuck," Steve hisses into a few more compressions, before he stops and gently tilts Eddie's head to open his airway, one hand against his still-warm forehead, one hand gripping his chin. He leans over and checks for breath sounds. Nothing. 

He pinches Eddie's nose shut and presses his mouth over Eddie's, trying not to think about how much blood floods his own mouth. He breathes once, twice. Eddie's chest rises weakly each time. That's good, that's– It's good.

He starts the cycle again. 

"You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life…"

Red lightning streaks across the sky and Steve flinches. The ground shakes more violently, like the whole place is threatening to give up the ghost and fall away beneath them. Part of him wishes it would, to save him the embarrassment of failing again.

"Come on, Munson."

Open airway, check for breath, pinch nose, breathe, breathe. 

"Friday night and the lights are low…"

He does it again, and again. Still nothing. 

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve begs. "Please." 

The quakes crescendo more and more, until Steve is practically shouting lyrics over them–

It sounds like a bomb goes off miles away, and a shockwave slams him in the chest. Steve throws his arms over his head and his body over Eddie's, shuddering with fresh adrenaline. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

Everything around them falls silent. The ground under his knees settles. His ears ring with the absence of it all.

He must have waited too long to leave. He can't make himself look. Surely the gates are gone. Surely that explosion was his way home being blown to smithereens. Part of him is glad Eddie didn't come back to this– trapped in the underworld with someone he despises? He'd probably ask Steve to re-kill him, and Steve would probably fuck that up, too. 

He's so screwed. Everything is so completely screwed and he screwed up so much of it himself, and it's probably good that he's probably trapped here, now. He probably deserves it.

Something jolts beneath him and then–

Eddie Munson coughs a mouthful of blood directly into Steve's face.

"What– Oh! Oh, shit!" Steve scrambles to shift his weight off of Eddie's chest as the other boy draws a clotted, strangled breath and chokes on it. Steve grabs him by the less-bat-bitten shoulder and hauls him onto his side. The other boy's ring-bedecked fingers brush against his arm, making weak attempts at grabbing him back. 

Eddie whimpers and groans, spitting and drooling more blood out of his mouth and nose. He coughs again, and it's the most gorgeous sound Steve's ever heard.

Steve grins, even with a face and mouth full of Eddie Munson's stupid blood. 

Eddie looks up at him, panting, and his eyes go wide when they finally focus on Steve's face. "H– Harrington?" He's almost voiceless. Not just hoarse, but struggling to make any sound at all.

"Yeah," Steve says, still smiling like a fool. He feels drunk. Eddie's breaths are all distinctly shallow, fast, and wet, but they're there, and they keep coming, which hadn't felt possible a moment before. The overwhelming, sudden joy is a massive head rush.

Eddie looks confused, and wracked with pain, and he squints at Steve and asks, "Did you die, too?" His tongue seems to tangle with each syllable.  

That trips Steve out of his daze. His smile falters. Trapped in the Upside Down, his brain reminds him. "You're not dead, Munson," he says. 

Steve looks up, then, and scans their surroundings. The red-orange ravine still yawns open not too far away, which slaps him across the face with relief and chases it quickly with dread. 

They can get home, thank fuck, but what had all of this done to their Hawkins? Had it been similarly torn open by nightmare super-gates? Is there this much destruction on their side? Steve's stomach clenches. 

The hellfire-filled crack that begins in the middle of Eddie's trailer stretches off into the distance, as far as Steve can see. If these fissures were like the gates– if they'd appeared in Hawkins, too– they're twenty or thirty feet wide, in some places. Big enough to swallow cars, houses. People. 

Something like this… It would kill a lot of people. 

"Hurts," Eddie gasps. 

Steve's attention snaps back to him. "What hurts?" he asks.

Eddie manages an especially-wet, "Everything. F-feels like a– fucking– elephant– sat on my– chest." He fights for air between every couple of words, but never draws in very much. 

"Yeah, well," Steve says, easing Eddie up to sitting and sliding an arm under his knees, "you had to go and stop breathing, like an asshole." He hefts the taller, ganglier boy up into his arms and staggers up to his feet. Eddie ought to feel heavier, he thinks. Maybe this is one of those moms-lifting-cars-off-kids things.

"Seemed like– the thing– to do," Eddie pants. His eyes flutter closed and his head lolls backwards, curly hair brushing against Steve's arm. 

"Hey," Steve snaps. "Eddie."

Eddie groans. Still alive. Steve releases his captive breath.

Steve walks them over to the tear in the not-earth, where Nancy had been. He expects it to be warm – it glows like lava – but the air around them is freezing. It reeks of ammonia and decay. He tucks Eddie a little closer to his chest.

And then Steve hesitates, staring down at the maw in the ground. 

He should just go through. Quickly. Eddie needs medical attention way beyond the skill of a sometimes-summer-lifeguard. Shit, Steve probably does, too. 

But… 

What about Max? What about Dustin, and Robin, and Nance? What about everyone else? What about his parents? What if this didn't just happen in Hawkins, but happened everywhere? What if the whole apocalypse happened without him? 

As long as he stays in this universe, he doesn't have to know how badly he hurt his own. He can pretend the damage is limited to this shithole, and that everyone on the other side is blissfully unaware. It's like that thing Henderson tried explaining that one time– Schlongdinger's Box, or whatever. If he stays here, there's nobody around to disappoint besides Eddie, whose opinion of him is already so low that it would be impossible to drag it lower. 

"Steve?" Eddie wheezes, oblivious to the turmoil happening inches away from his face. 

"Yeah?"

Munson hesitates, too. "Were you– singing– ABBA?"

That startles a huffed almost-laugh out of Steve's tight chest. He rolls his eyes. "I don't wanna hear it, man. ABBA saved your goddamn life."

Eddie squints up at him and starts telling Steve (slowly and quietly, as he grapples with his halting lungs) that he'd never besmirch (besmirch? what a dork) the good name of ABBA, he's not a monster, he was just curious why Steve's rendition had been in so many different keys is all (unbelievably rude), and even though Steve can hear the fear in Eddie's voice, and he knows Eddie's only talking about ABBA because the alternative is to freak out, something clicks into place in Steve's head:

He wants to have a million more inconsequential conversations, like this one, with the people he cares about. 

Even the ones who might despise him a little.

Even if the apocalypse happened on the other side, and even if people he loves are hurt, and even if Steve Harrington is bullshit, he has to try to do what he can to help. 

He holds Eddie a little tighter. He informs him that he actually sang it totally normal, thanks, and gingerly, he maneuvers them both down through the gate and back into Hawkins.

[scary-monsters]

▹broken boy | a diego brando character study | ch.1 | 2.7k ▹synopsis: Britain's beloved genius jockey. Swimming in money, trophies, lovers, recognition… and yet, he starves for more. With a shady past, dangerously unclear motives, and an explosive ego to boot, it's no wonder his inner circle consists of only himself and those that can benefit him. (Canon leaves out a lot. This fic begins with ten-year-old Diego and aims to fill in the gaps throughout the rest of his life while still remaining true to his core character.) [ read on ao3 instead ]

For young Diego Brando, the closest feeling to “home” is found at the stables. It’s in the creaking of old doors, the crunch of hay underneath his worn boots, the familiar snorts and whinnies that echo throughout the wooden fixtures as soon as he steps near. These days, he can tell them all apart. Diego knows the horses at this farm well enough that they might as well be his brothers and sisters. And, well… in a way, he supposes they’re the closest he’ll ever get to having any sort of family again.

It’s early on a Tuesday; Diego’s just barely beat the sunrise, already dressed in his work attire and headed for the very stables he finds such solace in. Maybe he’s a lucky boy, given that he’s had the opportunity to work with horses for the past five years in order to earn his keep around here. It’s a “dream job” of sorts, he supposes. At any rate, his interaction with the people on this farm tends to stay at a minimum. His job is quite simple: tend to the horses every single day. Feed them, groom them, clean their enclosures. This, of course, is bare bones, but Diego fancies himself an overachiever. He knows the horses by name, understands all their habits and quirks and what makes them tick, so taking each of them around the farm for regular exercise is easy (and enjoyable) work.

With a squeak, the stable doors open easily for him, the air fills his nose with the familiar and comfortable smell of hay. Diego can already hear at least one of his beloved companions stirring in an enclosure just to his left. Cursed with less than average height, he’s unable to clearly see, but he already knows it’s one of the dappled grays, an elderly mare named Tilly.

“Morning, girl,” Diego whispers, approaching the enclosure’s door and giving it a gentle pat. He makes a mental note to take her out for a ride later; it’s been a few days, but he tries to find balance between keeping Tilly active without overexerting her.

Diego’s first attempt at riding a horse was less than successful, of course. He’d just turned five, but his interest in horses had been clear since his infancy. Nervous as she was, Diego’s mother was never the type to discourage his desire to try something new, constantly instilling in him her pride in his drive and intelligence from such a young age. However, her instinct told her to deny him this one request. Her son was much too young, and she was fiercely protective.

Perhaps it was the rough conditions he’d been raised in, but Diego seemed to mature at a much faster pace than the other children on the farm. He’d had no choice, really. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, this came with impenetrable stubbornness. Diego respected his mother more than anyone else, but beyond that he wanted nothing more than to make her proud. And so, while she’d been distracted with her own work, he’d attempted to mount one of the more aggressive stallions.

As strong as his innate ability to connect with horses always has been, Diego’s first attempt had ended in him slipping off and tumbling to the ground, though thankfully with no critical injuries. His mother was fuming, scolding him and demanding he keep his distance from the animals for several days. Diego had been heartbroken, but beyond that he’d been embarrassed. The incident left him with a huge blow to his steadily blossoming confidence.

Nevertheless, this only made Diego’s drive much stronger. If there’s anything Diego unquestionably is, it’s persistent. Even more so these days, and it’s what his mother always encouraged him to be, anyway.

Diego gathers supplies from the corner of the stable; an old brush, a metal pick, a bucket, a few thick rope leads, and a rickety shovel. As he makes his way through the structure even more of his friends begin to stir, their heads popping up from behind stable doors and eyeing him expectantly. Diego leans on his shovel as his eyes dart from horse to horse, a grand total of seven in just this stable alone.

“Right then,” Diego states firmly, “we went from oldest to youngest yesterday, shall we switch it up today?”

Sensing no objections, Diego gives one strong nod and lugs his supplies over to the first enclosure on his right.

“Seems it’s your lucky day, Bolt.” The rusty metal latch of the stable door turns, another dappled gray waits inside, this one much younger than Tilly. In fact, he’s the youngest of several she’s birthed while living on this farm.

Diego approaches Bolt with as much gentleness as he does any of the other horses, yielding him the same trust he always receives. Beyond being in tune with horses and their quirks, he’s always had a knack for gaining their reliance almost immediately as well. Moments where he’s had to really prove himself to an animal have been few and far between, but it’s like his mother had said right before she’d passed: this is his innate talent.

With Bolt leashed securely to one of the wooden columns inside the structure, Diego sets to work cleaning up his living space. It’s not easy work, certainly not for a boy his age. Perhaps it’d be different if he were well fed and got regular, sufficient rest, but his living conditions on this farm have only gotten slightly better since his mother passed away four years ago.

Diego no longer sleeps on the barn floor, now he stays in the most run-down room of an inn just down the road from the farm. It’s dingy as it is, but his allowance will only grant him the lowest they have to offer. He continues to survive off daily portions of stew, but it’s not nearly enough to facilitate his growth at this rate. And, unfortunately, he’s always met with a tinge of humiliation when he has to stand in the very line where he’d seen his mother sacrifice her hands for him, only to make direct eye contact with the very same man who’d brought about the most traumatic moment of his life years ago.

The scrape of metal against the wooden floor breaks Diego out of his thoughts, almost like he’d instinctively pushed just a little harder. There’s no time for his mind to wander. The people of this farm will get what’s coming to them, eventually, someday. Diego has to believe it, it’s the one thing that keeps him waking up every single day.

Well, that and his horses. Diego lifts his eyes from the floor and glances over to Bolt, who’s watching him attentively and gently swishing his tail back and forth.

“Come now,” he tuts, chuckling softly to himself as he continues to shovel manure into a neat pile in the center of the enclosure. “Quite hard to do my job if you’re staring bullets through me.”

Bolt lightly shakes his head and snorts. He’s always had a bit more personality than some of the other horses, and Diego figures it may be thanks to his age. Bolt is only three, an age that causes the young boy to consider him something like a brother.

Diego leaves the stables for a moment to retrieve an old squeaky wheelbarrow from outside. He notices with contempt that some of the inhabitants of the small village are starting to go about their daily routines. Rage boils inside him for a moment, his hands clenching tightly against the handles.

Diego deeply inhales. Exhales. Reminds himself of his mother’s wise words.

Dignity. He cannot forget his dignity.

With that, he heads back inside, focusing on his daily tasks. The ache in his arms from shoveling manure and dirty hay is worthwhile in return for the pride he feels. And even though he must unfortunately traverse outside the safety of the stables to retrieve fresh water, he keeps his shoulders up, his head held high, ignoring the people around him.

Without question, Diego’s favorite part of his job is grooming the horses. Every single one of them remains calm under his touch, even as he scrapes at their hooves with a metal pick, albeit as gently as possible. By the time he’s reached the third stable, his hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. It’s not unusual for him to become fatigued partway through his day, but his focus remains on his companions. Before he knows it, he’s soared through caring for almost every horse inside the building.

Thankful that he’s saved his clear favorite for last, Diego eagerly unlatches Tilly’s enclosure and greets her with an encouraging click of his tongue. Hard of hearing at her old age, it takes her a moment to register his greeting, but as soon as she does she slowly rises to her feet.

“Hey, old girl,” Diego coos, extending his hand to carefully pet her muzzle, “fancy a ride this afternoon?”

Of course, as confident as he is in his ability to communicate with these animals, Diego can’t read their minds. But if he could, Tilly would easily be the most capable candidate. Maybe she doesn’t outwardly react, but Diego can sense she’s pleased with that suggestion. He won’t wear her out; he supposes a short walk around the village won’t be too strenuous.

Diego takes the most care with Tilly, offering her as much of his time as possible. Though he prefers not to dwell on it too much, he’s aware that she’s nearing the end of her life. Heart aching a bit at the thought, Diego chews at his lip as he brushes her beautifully spotted coat. A series of pats along her back act as an expression of his gratitude; if not for her, he’s unsure how he’d have gotten through his mother’s tragic passing.

Briefly overcome with emotion, he rests his cheek upon her side, closing his eyes for a moment. Diego isn’t sure how he’ll manage another round of loss, but at least in this instance it’ll be her time. Not like his mother. It wasn’t her time. She deserved to live a long, full life. It simply isn’t fair.

Diego’s eyes fly open and he proudly lifts his head once again.

Dignity. ---

Saddled up and fed, Tilly eagerly allows Diego to mount her. The young boy takes her reins in hand and steers her outside the stables. Balmy sunlight seems to almost restore her, causing her legs to move with a more lively energy. It has the same effect on Diego; his skin hungrily absorbs the bright rays, practically washing away the ache in his arms and legs. He feels at peace like this, astride his beloved horse, lifted above the people he passes by. It’s likely the closest he’ll ever feel to royalty.

Diego doesn’t stop for anyone. He ignores the eyes of the villagers; neighbors is a more accurate word, probably, but his resentment refuses to acknowledge them as such. None of them are worthy of nearing his beautiful steed, Tilly’s much too regal for their filthy hands. Stained with blood, the whole lot of them.

Spotting one of the farmhands just a few feet away, Diego makes a feeble attempt at steering Tilly in the opposite direction, but his fate’s been sealed. The man spots him, sneering in his direction and unfortunately approaching him.

“Brando,” he gruffly greets the boy, “you know that old thing should stay in the stables.”

Diego scoffs. The man may provide him with his work, but this doesn’t mean he deserves even a shred of his respect.

“Tilly has a name.” He lovingly brushes his hand along her neck. “Taking her for a stroll keeps her in shape. My job is to care for the horses, is it not?”

The farmhand narrows his eyes threateningly, but he doesn’t offer a rebuttal as far as Diego’s question. Of course he doesn’t; Diego’s one of the few who selflessly dedicates their time to caring for the animals.

“Her days are nearly up, boy. Wouldn’t it be more worthwhile to focus on the healthy horses?”

He’s undeserving of an answer, Diego decides. Lifting his head, he guides Tilly to turn around and head back for the stables. A short ride is all she can handle, sure, but he’s certain it’s been enough to lift her spirits. He won’t allow this sore excuse for a man to ruin that for her.

“How dare he speak to you like that,” Diego spits, gripping her reins even tighter, “I won’t stand for it. Mark my words, sweet girl.”

It’s a vague promise, but one that he intends to keep.

---

Diego awakens the following morning as he always does – sprawled out on a bedroll resting against the creaky wooden floor of a worn down inn. The sun has just started to peek over the horizon, and his eyes take a moment to adjust to the rays filtering through his small window. He sheds his too-small sleep clothes and clumsily changes into his dirty work attire, eager to start his day.

Ever since his encounter with that farmhand yesterday, he’s been filled with disdain. Diego decides he’ll spend extra time today doting on Tilly, he’ll make it clear to her that she’s worth just as much as any other horse on this farm. Maybe even more, given how much ridicule she’s been subject to.

As always, he’s up before many of the other residents. The silence makes the crunch of his shoes against gravel all the more audible, a welcome sound alongside the chirping of birds and whistling of a gentle breeze.

But something feels off. There’s a faint heaviness in the pit of his stomach, but he tries to quell the sensation. It’s simply the residual frustration from yesterday, he assures himself. As soon as he reaches the stables, he’s certain the comforting feeling of home will wash over him.

Diego approaches the small building, unlatches the old wooden door and steps inside. The sound of his companions reacting to his entrance causes a faint smile to grace his lips. He instinctively looks to his left, stepping towards Tilly’s enclosure and giving its entrance a gentle knock.

“Morning, old girl,” he greets her, just as he always does, but he’s met with silence.

The pit in his stomach grows heavier, larger. Diego curses his height and desperately presses his ear to the gate.

“Tilly?” He attempts to rouse her again.

The silence is deafening. With shaky hands he unlatches the gate and carefully swings it open.

Just as he feared, just as his instinct had told him, his beloved Tilly isn’t there. An empty stable, already tidied up and ready for another resident, is all that greets him.

For a moment, the quickly shrinking hopefulness within him insists that she must be out somewhere, that another farmhand has taken her for a stroll and graciously cleaned her living space. Given the sentiments he’d heard yesterday, he knows this realistically can’t be true. The memory of the farmhand's disgusting sneer and mocking tone echoes through Diego’s mind.

“Tilly,” Diego whispers, as if saying her name will bring her back to him.

It won’t. It can’t. Much in the same vein as his mother was taken from him, the people of this farm have once again spit on him, allowing someone dear to him to be wrongfully abandoned, tossed aside.

All he can do is fall to his knees, his hands grasping desperately at the hay underneath him. The warm sting of imminent tears begins in the corners of his eyes and as much as he’d like to fight it, he can’t. Stare fixed on the very spot that he’d seen Tilly just yesterday, his vision becomes blurry with moisture.

Diego wails, unrelenting. His body shakes with the force of his sobs, he pounds his fist against the wooden floor underneath him, aggressively rips at the too-clean hay surrounding him. It’s unfair, it wasn’t her time, and worst of all, he’d failed to protect her.

Inwardly, he apologizes to his mother, wherever her soul may have ended up. His grasp on dignity has faltered, his shame is immeasurable, and he childishly aches for her comforting embrace.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hii!! Can I please request a Stucky x fem!reader fic? So you know how in Civil War, right before Bucky and Steve fight with Tony, the three of them find the other super soldiers that Zemo killed? Imagine that Zemo had missed one, one that was more recently abducted by Hydra to be experimented on with the super serum (so she wasn’t in cryo when Hydra abandoned the facility, she was in her cell). Instead of super strength though, she can control the elements. While she had figured out how to get out of her cell, she was too scared to actually leave the facility. The three of them hear soft cries from behind one of one of the cryo containers (she hid there after Zemo left) and find a very terrified woman who hiding her face in her knees and shaking. Steve would be so gentle and soft when talking to her and get down to her level and Bucky would understand completely what she is going through. Tony would probably be a little more on the defense. Anyways, she won’t speak at first, but Steve gets her calm enough to answer questions and she explains what Zemo did and how she hid, also she probably overheard him talking about his plan to break up the avengers and his plan to show Tony the tape of the winter soldier killing his parents because he knows it’ll start a fight. And maybe this is enough to stop their fight from happening because they know it’d just feed into Zemo’s plan?

Anyways, they bring the shaking girl back to Avengers HQ with them and they take care of her? She won’t speak to anyone else but Bucky and Steve, and she feels most comfortable cuddled between them🥹 (Avengers get back together)

Only Comfortable With Them » Stucky

Pairings: Stucky x Enhanced!Female Reader with the Avengers

Summary: You explains to Steve and Bucky what Zemo’s intentions are and you only feel comfortable with them after they save you from the HYDRA facility.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst (not Bucky and Steve), language, HYDRA, crying, nightmares, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the beautifully descriptive request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You heard unfamiliar footsteps walking in the now abandoned HYDRA facility. It didn’t sound like the boot HYDRA agents wore. You got off the bed in the cell you’re in and cautiously approached the door. You stood on your tippy toes to look out of the small window on the door. You seen a man. You couldn’t make out who he is. He was facing the other way. You could tell he was in the cryogenic chamber room. Your cell isn’t too far from there. He pulled a gun out of his coat pocket and pointed it at the cryogenic chambers the five Super Soldiers are in. He pointed it at the cryogenic chambers and shot each Super Soldier in them. He was talking to himself as he was setting up some kind of monitor and put a tape in it before leaving.

You had a feeling the man was going to come back and find you in a cell. You knew that you needed to get out of the cell, but you didn’t have a key or tools to unlock the door. You almost forgot that you have powers where you can control elements. You haven’t used them in a while. You figured if it focus on the door hard enough, it’ll open or somehow come off the hinges. You took a deep breath before focusing on the door. After a short moment you were going to give up, but then you heard the door rattling. You focused harder and soon enough, the door fell off the hinges.

You then cautiously walked out of the cell, walking toward the cryogenic chamber room. You seen bullet holes in the foreheads of the five Super Soldiers in the cryos. You were going to leave the facility, but then you heard three more unfamiliar footsteps, two pairs of boots and metal feet against the concrete. You quickly hid behind one of the cryos. You pulled your legs up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them tightly. You were scared that whoever is now in the facility is there to abduct you or hurt you. You were so scared that you started crying. Steve, Bucky, and Tony seen the Super Soldiers in the cryos had bullet holes in their foreheads. That’s when they heard the sound of your crying.

“Do you guys hear that?” Steve asks.

“Yes.” Bucky and Tony say in unison.

They followed the sound of your crying and whimpering, finding you behind one of the cryos.

“Ma’am?” You heard an unfamiliar voice.

You looked up to see three unfamiliar men. You scooted away from them.

“Pl-Please don’t hurt me!” You pleaded.

“We’re not going to hurt you.” He assures.

Steve hands Bucky his shield so he looks less intimidating.

“May I approach you?” He asks.

You stared at him for a few seconds before nodding your head yes. Steve carefully and cautiously approached you and crouched down in front of you.

“I’m Steve and these two guys are my friends Bucky and Tony.” Steve introduces them. “What’s your name?” He asks softly.

“Y/N.” You say quietly in a shaky voice.

“Can you tell us why you’re here?” He says.

“HYDRA kidnapped me and experimented on me. They hurt me. I didn’t like it.” You tell them.

Bucky carefully and cautiously approached you and crouched down in front of you.

“They hurt me too.” Bucky says.

“With needles?” You asked.

He nodded. You stared at the two men in front of you. Something about them is telling you that you can trust them and you felt comfortable with them.

“Sweet talking isn’t going to get us anywhere.” Tony says.

Bucky and Steve waved him off.

“Can you tell us about Zemo?” Steve asks.

“Zemo?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“The man who was here before us.” Bucky says.

“He had a gun and shot the Super Soldiers in the cryos. Then he started talking to himself about how the Avengers did something in Sokovia and wanted to break them up. He also put a tape in that monitor.” You explained the best you could.

“What’s on the tape?” Steve asks.

“I think he said it was a mission the Winter Soldier did.” You say.

Steve and Bucky exchanged looks, knowing exactly what mission it is.

“You’re safe now.” Steve says softly.

Steve and Bucky stood up. Both of them held their hands out for you. You stared at their hands for a few seconds before putting your hands in theirs. They helped you up from the floor.

“Wait a second. She’s coming with us?” Tony says.

“Yes.” Bucky says.

“How do we know she’s not part of that Zemo guy’s plan?” He says.

“She’s not, Tony. Look at her. She’s terrified.” Steve says.

Tony narrowed his eyes at you. You felt yourself becoming smaller under his gaze. Steve and Bucky wrapped their arms around you, guiding you to the quinjet. Steve flew the quinjet while Bucky stayed with you. Tony continued to keep his eyes on you, making sure you didn’t try anything, even though you weren’t going to do anything.

“What’s this?” Bucky asks, pointing at an IV needle still in your hand.

“It’s what HYDRA used to experimented on me.” You tell him.

Bucky found a first aid kit and opened it.

“May I?” He asks.

You nodded and extended your hand towards him. Bucky slowly and carefully took the IV out of your hand and put a bandaid on your hand. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it over the bandaid. You couldn’t help but blush when he did that.

“How long did HYDRA keep you there?” Bucky asks.

“About a year.” You tell him.

You glanced over at Tony. He was still looking at you. He was still on the defense about you. You looked away and leaned your head against Bucky’s shoulder, hiding your face against his shoulder.

“You’re making her uncomfortable, Stark.” Bucky says.

Tony rolls his eyes at Bucky and turned his gaze away from you. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, making you feel more comfortable.

“Where are we going?” You asked, looking from Bucky to Steve.

“Avengers compound.” Steve says.

“Is it safe?” You asked.

“More than safe.” He says softly.

You smiled at his words. You laid your head back on Bucky’s shoulder. You played with Bucky’s metal fingers as you started to doze off.

When you guys got to the Avengers compound, Bucky and Steve put your sleeping body in their bed and gave you time to rest. You clutched the blankets in your hands as you tossed and turned in bed, due to a nightmare you’re currently having. Your breathing was uneven. Bucky and Steve walked in the bedroom to check on you.

“Doll, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” Bucky says softly as him and Steve gently shook you awake.

You gasped and scrambled to sit up, breathing heavily and your face wet with tears. Your mind was all over the place.

“Where-Where am I?” You asked frantically.

“Avengers compound. You’re safe, sweetheart” Steve says.

Steve handed you a glass of water. You stared at it before taking it from his hand and took a sip of it.

“Do you want to tell us about it?” Steve asks.

“Needles.” You mumbled. “So many needles. I didn’t like it.” You mumbled again.

“I get it.” Bucky put a comforting hand on your knee. “I didn’t like the needles either.” He says softly in an understanding voice.

“Scary and so much pain.” You mumbled.

Bucky nods, understanding what you endured with HYDRA.

“You’re safe now. You’re with us.” Steve says softly, putting a comforting hand on your other knee.

“Does that mean I can stay here with you guys?” You asked, looking from Steve to Bucky.

“Of course you can, doll!” Bucky smiles, patting your knee gently.

You smiled and stood up on your knees so you could hug them. Out of excitement, you gave them a soft peck on their lips without realizing it.

“Sorry.” You muttered, sitting back on your heels. “I didn’t mean to do that.” You say, fiddling with your fingers.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. I don’t mind.” Steve says.

“I don’t mind either.” Bucky says.

Over the next few weeks, you quickly adjusted to living in the Avengers compound with Steve’s and Bucky’s help. You only feel comfortable around them. The Avengers know that too, which they completely understand. They’re sure that you’ll warm up to them. You’re ok with the rest of the Avengers, but you’re not at the point where you’re ready to start talking to them, which they completely understand. You wave at them and smile when they say hi or good morning to you. When they talk to you, you listen and nod. They don’t expect you to say anything back, which they’re ok with.

You were wandering around the hallways of the compound bored and looking for Bucky and Steve. You assumed they were in the gym so that’s where you went. They were sparring so you sat down on the floor and leaned your back against the wall, patiently waiting for them to finish up.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky smiles as him and Steve walk over to you. “You ok?” He asks.

“Yes. I was bored and I want cuddles.” You say, looking up at the two Super Soldiers.

“We can do that right now.” Steve says with a smile.

You smiled and stood up. You stood on your tippy toes and kissed their lips, not caring that they’re sweaty. You went back up to the bedroom you share with Steve and Bucky, patiently waiting for them. You turned the TV on and flipped through the channels while you waited for them to clean up.

“Ready for cuddles?” Steve asks as he got on the bed.

You nodded your head eagerly and put the remote on the nightstand. Steve laid down next to you and you laid down next to him, laying your head on his chest. Bucky laid down behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist.

“What are we watching?” Bucky asks.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t find anything so I just put this movie on.” You say.

You guys weren’t really interested in the movie. You guys were more interested in cuddling.

“Hold me tighter please.” You say softly.

Steve and Bucky did just that. You smiled and sighed in satisfaction.

“Thank you.” You say quietly.

“For what, darling?” Steve asks.

“For saving me.” You say, looking from Steve to Bucky.

“You don’t have to thank us, doll. We’re just happy you’re safe now.” Bucky says.

“I love you guys.” You say, kissing them.

“We love you too, doll.” They say softly in unison, kissing you back.

🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[strangeanduncanny]

You've made some really great points here. I love the scene where Mina uses her knowledge of the train schedule (certainly painting her as a modern woman) to help the plan to defeat Dracula. Unrelated, but this also makes her a great narrative foil to Dracula who is also very interested in train schedules.

I just want to clarify some of my original points, but I'm definitely not disagreeing with you necessarily.

When I referred to Mina using modern knowledge to help the men I was actually referring to before her assault not after. For example, one of Mina's standout skills is her ability to write in shorthand, which is pivotal in the plot against Dracula. This is a skill she explicitly learns to act as Jonathan's assistant in his solicitor work. She write to Lucy: "I have been working very hard lately, because I want to keep up with Jonathan’s studies, and I have been practising shorthand very assiduously. When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I am practising very hard." That is, Mina resembles the New Woman in ways that useful for Jonathan to succeed in his work.

In regard to Mina losing narrative control, she is the one to organize the first half of the narrative. This is said explicitly in the text. We might assume she does the same for the latter half of the text, but there is no evidence for this. In fact the beginning of the novel only states that "these papers have been placed in sequence" and "ll needless matters have been eliminated." Nothing is said of who organizes the papers.

What we do know is the men (Van Helsing, Harker, Quincy, and Holmwood) all agree that it is too dangerous to include Mina in their plans when she is under Dracula's thrall. Van Helsing tells Mina after the attack that that "When we part to-night, you no more must question. We shall tell you all in good time. We are men and are able to bear; but you must be our star and our hope" and "All the men, even Jonathan, seemed relieved." In response, Mina thinks to herself "I could say nothing, save to accept their chivalrous care of me." This to me seems a far cry from the Mina who bore the emotional weight of all the men (comforting Seward when he cries in front of her and reading Harker's diary when he is too weak to do so himself).

The only voice that is left to her (one could argue) is Dracula, as she is hypnotized to tell the Crew of Light (as Christopher Craft names the team against Dracula) of Dracula's leaving England. Something to not about these hypnosis scenes is that Mina longer retains her ability to make sense of or interpret these narrative events. She answers Van Helsing's questions about what she hears and feels Dracula doing, but he is the one that understands Dracula's plan.

Regarding Lucy wanting three husbands: "Why can’t they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble?" Of course, we can read this as Lucy being simply sweet and not wanting to hurt the feelings of Quincy and Seward. It's how I'm inclined to read her.

However, considering her transformation into a vampire makes her a very sexual creature, it's not a reach to say that she is punished for being sexual. Moreover, it's explicit in the text that female sexual desire is evil. Seward comments on Lucy's transformation that she had a "deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive."

Holmwood claims that "he felt since then as if they two had been really married [because he transfused blood to her] and that she was his wife in the sight of God." This is after she has already received blood from Seward, Quincy, and Holmwood. (Note: I'm not 100% sure she gets blood from Quincy, but if I'm remembering correctly she does). This, in the context of the period the novel was written, does suggest Lucy to be a polygamist.

Also @lasarusbird called me out mentioning that op had already read many academic statements. I was definitely not trying to be patronizing or imply that they hadn't. OP put academic in quotations marks, so I assumed they were being facetious. Also, the articles I referenced are just ones that I find particularly interesting and useful for this field. Carol Senf especially is instrumental in the field of Dracula scholarship.

Finally, I just want to mention that I love 'Dracula' and Mina is one of my favorite characters of all time. My first year thesis was actually written entirely about my frustration with how Coppola weakened Mina's agency in the film adaptation by including her love plot. But I also enjoy engaging with literary criticism which is why I wanted to include my argument her.

actually insane that i wasn't sure if i should read dracula because i had seen so many 'academic' claims of misogyny and then i finally read it and mina murray harker is literally one of my favorite characters in like a decade. like she's got so much personality and agency and like yes she has internalized the expectations of women at the time but they literally can't beat dracula without her, she is essential. she is intelligent and funny and intense and weird and i adore her.

what the fuck is everyone smoking to claim that she's a sad little housewife who is dracula's bride or whatever.

[hauntingblue]

WATER SEVEN BABYYYYY

Look at robin reacting when luffy says he wont give her up.... 🥺🥺

This is a joke right now but its actually a one piece tenet aldjsisjka

Usopp aksbaksjakqk the foreshadow is foreshadowing... Also Robin being happy with the crew after the Aokiji incident... Fuck!!!!

Sanji thinking robin just vanished or flew away and suddenly usopp is soaring thru the skies... imagine

AAAAARGGGGHHHH YOU CAN SEE THE GEARS TURNING

Zoro talking to merry..... only while he is alone of course

Why are nami and sanji matching ajdhakjsk look at the citrus sisters

Carpenter: maybe it was the government

Gov agent: I don't think so, also don't say that they are everywhere

LUFFY SUPPORTS WOMEN'S WRONGS!!!

Don't scream att chopper like that!!! Look at him... So small....

Imu tease???? (No) (Also I've changed websites again bc the translation is kinda off , I can't find a good quality b&w spanish translation and the colors scare me (i want the real manga experience))

GET HIM ICEBURG!!!!

I truly forgor if this is just a lie about her wanting to find the rio poneglyphs or genuine because she wants to die and will do it for them... because in skypiea she says she is not interested in the weapons so maybe if the gov pardons her but considering what she wants is illegal then idk abdjabjs this is such a dumb thing to forget... like thats important girl where did it go (reading this after remembering and it's kinda funny... i will make any sacrifice to kill myself (and keep you safe)... she goes HARD)

Little paulie and mozu and kiwi.... omg hello (the SBS says the twins wanted to be shipwrights too omg)

Franky's backstory is small but it does so much for me like it is so central to the themes... boats and people...

DID SOMEBODY ORDER MORE TRAGIC BROTHERS?

The fact that franky needs to learn this lesson to pass it on to robin.... do you understand how big this is.... also Tom does exactly as he says and takes responsibility for franky and what he has done... because he has done nothing wrong AND THAT'S HIS SON and he just punched spandam bc he wanta him to feel the pain franky feels... Tom is such a man..... proud of having built eater 7 up with the sea train.... goes out with a boom.... should we all kill ourselves....

I am crying again................... franky my god.... and the fucking frog!!! And of course franky can't stop Tom's hope for his island... of course he can't.... he hasnt learnt the lesson yet but this guy isn't over yet!! He has a life of being a pervert cyborg ahead!!! Iceburg following Tom's footsteps but franky not being able to do that bc of his guilt....

This is one of the coolest things chopper has done btw...

NAMII 😭😭😭

Robin damning the world for her crew when all she has ever done is damn her companions for her own sake.... how big is this...

I can't take this...... it's always nami in these positions... it happens AGAIN in Zou with Sanji... there is no way

The love letter gag is too good like damn that's so funny

AND IT'S NAMI GOING THROUGH IT AGAIN!!!! SHE LOVES ROBIN SO MUCH!!!!

[sukunasweetheart]

Sukuna, a middle aged man jaded by the harsh realities of his life. He steps outside for a smoke nearby a convenience store, completely bored out of his mind.

A lady is handing out flyers nearby, although nobody is bothering to look her way, including sukuna himself.

You approach the man who's getting irritated by the lighter that refuses to work in his hand.

"Hello there, sir. Would you be interested in taking up classes for arts and craft?" You offer the cute flyer up.

Sukuna scoffs. Is she serious?

"No thanks."

"Are you sure? You look like you could use a bit more colour in your life."

He's too exhausted at this point to get angry at a random woman on the street.

"...You're not too far off, i suppose," sukuna mutters, still trying to get the spark to stay on his lighter. "Even so, I'm not interested in the likes of arts and craft. Do i look like a child to you?"

You withdraw your offer of your flyer, and inspect him for a moment.

"Arts and craft can be enjoyed by anyone, regardless of age. But moving past that... you seem a bit down. If you'd like to confide in a stranger for a night, I'm happy to listen."

What a strange, persistent woman. Sukuna gives up on his lighter, and takes out the unlit cigarette in his mouth to think back for a moment. One thing does come to mind.

"I'm not feeling down. But i remembered something, now that i think about it..." he confesses, feeling weirdly compelled to tell you about it.

"Today is supposed to be my birthday."

Birthdays have never been special to him. Nobody celebrated his birth as a child, and in turn, he's never paid attention to the birthdays of others.

"Oh, happy birthday. Are you doing anything special for yourself today?"

"No. I've never cared for birthdays. And I'm getting too old for that anyway."

"Well, that won't do... Hold on for a second."

Puzzled, sukuna looks back at you but you've already gone inside the convenience store. Whatever you're up to now, couldn't possibly be more enticing than getting in a proper smoke right now. Sukuna begins to zone out.

He only snaps out of it when something mildly cold grazes past his cheek, leaving a ticklish and moist sensation on his skin as it disappears upon impact.

Bubbles. Bubbles are flying past him, and floating away into the sky.

For a moment, he gets mesmerised by the swirl of colours that are harboured in each one. Even just from the light of this dingy street, they fly up while holding a multitude of different colours inside them. Time seems to slow for a split second, and he doesn't understand why.

His gaze follows the trail to identify it's source. And unsurprisingly, it's you, standing behind him. You blow a couple more out, and then grin at him childishly. He finally looks at your face properly for the first time.

"Birthday bubbles. For the birthday man," you chuckle sheepishly, knowing that you probably look a bit silly right now. You put the bubble wand back into the small bottle of the soapy mixture, and screw it tightly.

"Here, you can have it. Next time you're feeling a bit antsy, why don't you try blowing some yourself? They're pretty, aren't they?"

You also hand him a different small item.

"And i also threw in a little something else, while i was at it."

He looks down, and sees that it's a new lighter. He slowly pulls his hand out of his pocket to take both of them from your hands.

"I hope you get to do something more special next year. Birthdays are supposed to be joyful, after all," you comment.

"Thanks for putting up with my nosiness. Farewell."

And then you leave him after a quick wave.

Sukuna stares wordlessly as you walk off, wondering what to name this ticklish feeling rising in the pit of his stomach.

The small bottle in his palm reminds him of a moment in his childhood. Kids in the park bragging about their bubble wands that were gifted to them. the laughs that resounded as they all ran off to catch the fragile spheres as they blew away in the wind. The tiny feelings of envy in his heart.

The item he tucks away into his pocket is the lighter. And when nobody is watching, he blows a couple more bubbles into the night sky.

-

Every time he passes by that convenience store, the thought of you comes to his mind. A flashback of your smile in the back of his mind. Every so often, he comes to this particular store. Despite having closer options, he comes to this specific one.

At times, sukuna regrets not taking one of the flyers that you were handing out. He wouldn't have had to mope around a convenience store in hopes of running into you again.

Today is a rainy day, and this calls for a hot piping cup of instant ramen. He doesn't usually enjoy convenience store food, but he wants a reason to stay around inside for a bit longer.

He needs to wait five minutes for the noodles to soften. In this time, he stares out the glass frame of the store, and watches the various rows of people walking past with their umbrellas opened.

There appears to be one anomaly in the crowd, however. Running without shelter from the rain, clutching her bag as if it contains something important in there. Sukuna realises that it's you.

Forgetting about his instant ramen, sukuna grabs his umbrella and dashes out the door.

You're mildly panicking about being stuck behind the red light at the zebra crossing without anything to save you from the rain, but the sensation of the droplets hitting your body come to a stop all too suddenly.

You look up, and there's a black umbrella sheltering you, big and strong looking. You spin around and recognise the stranger with pink hair and sharp eyes. Seemingly out of breath.

He signals to the light that has now turned green behind you, and ushers you forward to cross the road before you can say anything to him.

Now safely on the other side of the road, you begin to converse with him.

"It's you! Hello. Thank you for sheltering me. How have you been?"

"... So-so. Nothing's changed since the last time we met."

"I see. You look better than last time, though." You get the feeling that his eyes have a little more light in them.

Sukuna doesn't really get what you mean, but he moves on.

"What’s in your bag that's so important for you to be protecting it like that?" He asks, effectively changing the topic.

"Oh, this? I literally just bought some brand new origami paper... i can't risk getting them wet and unusable. The children would be disappointed."

"Origami, huh? How original."

"Hey! That's not all... there's a lot of options i offer them. They voted on origami this time."

"You got a lot of people signed up?"

"Not really... but I'm sure it'll start picking up soon. Slowly, one at a time."

You smile up at him hopefully.

"...is the offer still open?"

You cock your head to the side slightly, confused. Sukuna grits his teeth, feeling a little bashful about having to ask more specifically.

"You know. Lessons for grown adults."

"Oh! Of course, anytime! Would you like to come sign up today?"

"Do you offer one-on-one sessions too?"

"Yes, I do."

"Alright. Let’s go."

Sukuna can't fathom the words that are coming out of his own mouth. But fuck it, what's the worst that could happen? You've somehow intriged him, and he can't think of a better way to approach you.

You chatter his ears off along the way, and he nods along while his shoulder gets wet from the way he leans his umbrella closer to your side.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑

Sukuna

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Your husband was an heir, and you have to fulfill the order.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spitting, slight use of tummy mouth, double penetration, tit sucking (and biting), breeding kink, degrading, sukuna is... sukuna but fluffier to his wife

*he's been on my mind lately and I'm going insane

10k Event Masterlist

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“I want an heir.” Sukuna brings up one fateful night as you walk over to lay down beside him. It’s not a request, it’s an order that you must fulfill, just like everything that involves Sukuna. Strangely enough, Sukuna has been the one that’s been delaying having a child since you’ve been nearly begging him to have a baby with him for the past year. It seems he’s finally given in to the idea though.

“What was that, Suku?” You ask, stopping in your tracks because he’s caught you off guard. He stands up from where he lays, towering over you. You look up at him, waiting for him to repeat himself but you should know better than anyone that your husband doesn’t like to repeat himself. But this time he does,

“It’s about time you give me an heir.” Which makes a smile spread across your face because it’s what you’ve been wanting. Sukuna has been the one that has been refusing to have a child so you don’t understand why he words it like that– But either way, you’re happy and ready to fulfill his every need. Before you can even agree to his order, his bottom hands are undoing your robe to get you undressed while his mouth goes down to your lips.

Sukuna has grown accustomed to kissing you, and handling your body more gently since you’ve asked him to. Compared to the beginning, he treats you like a petal. You like to think it’s his way of expressing his love for you since he’s not very vocal about it, and you know he doesn’t particularly enjoy kissing. His tongue meets yours while his hands try to undo the robe without tearing the fabric into pieces since he knows it’s one of your favorites.

He bites down on your lip causing a cry to leave your throat while he gives up on properly taking off your robe. You hear as the fabric rips, and maybe another time you would be upset about it but you’re too consumed by him to care. He’ll just get you another one. His two lower hands roam down your bare body. One hand gropes your breasts, his rough fingers pinching your nipples. He gets to your cunt, lightly slapping it before he runs two fingers through your cunt.

He pulls away from the kiss, letting your soft moans into the air when he begins to play with your clit. Sex for him has always been a selfish act but ever since his first night with you, he’s found pleasure in pleasing you. The sound of your moans in the air while he toys with you is the sweetest melody. He found it dumb at first, but now there are nights where he’s simply buried between your thighs with the purpose of making you come as much as he can. 

Sukuna picks you up and puts you down on the bed. Taking a moment to appreciate how beautiful his wife looks when she’s under him. Fuck, you’re so fucking small compared to him. It’s nothing new, really, all the people that Sukuna has been with are miniscule compared to him. But he just loves the way that you look under him since he’s never seen a more beautiful human being. He’d never tell that to you though.

Sukune begins to tease your entrance, threatening to push a finger into your cunt but he doesn’t. He runs his fingers through your folds, while his thumb plays with your clit. He lowers his head, his tongue circling your nipple before his mouth wraps around it and he begins to suck.

“Can you put a finger in, Suku? Please…” You ask him, your needy cunt in need of his fingers inside of you. He bites down on your nipple, causing a cry to leave your lips before he unlatches and lifts his head up. 

“I hate beggars.” Sukuna reminds you, and you’re about to apologize but he shoves three fingers into your mouth, gagging you with them before you can even get a word out. He really knows you better than anyone. “My woman doesn’t apologize to anyone either. Not even her own husband.”

Sukuna finally pushes two fingers inside your pussy, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. His fingers are just so fucking big, and they reach every right spot. Sukuna feels you moan around his fingers before he takes them out of your mouth. He curves the fingers inside your cunt so they hit against your sweet spot. One hand goes to your breasts, and he begins to play with your nipples. 

“It feels so good, Suku.” You moan, your back arching as pleasure consumes you. Sukuna’s multiple hands are… Everything.

He takes his fingers out of your cunt, moving the wet digits down to your asshole. He spits down on your cunt and spreads his saliva down. He presses his fingers against your asshole as he lowers his head. He kisses from your lower abdomen to your pussy, where his tongue then runs through your folds and then up to your clit. His tongue begins to flick your clit while he pushes two fingers into your asshole, making you moan loudly.

“Fuck– Fuck!” You yell, as Sukuna also pushes two fingers into your cunt again. It’s like music to Sukuna’s ears. It’s too much for you, two fingers in your ass, two in your pussy, and his tongue on your clit. Both holes squeeze around his fingers as his tongue lays flat on your clit.

“Sukuna! Shit, it’s so fucking good.” You bite down your lip, trying to not bring too much attention to yourself. Unluckily for you, as soon as Sukuna knows that you’re making yourself quiet, he stops. He lifts his head up and takes his fingers out of your pussy and asshole, leaving your holes to clench around nothing.

“I want my woman to be loud. Don’t be a fucking bitch, do you hear me?” Sukuna kneels, towering over you again and you nod in response. You use your forearm to hold yourself up and look at him. He undoes his robe, and you lick your lips as you watch your husband get completely naked. Your thighs come together as your eyes fall on his two thick cocks, feeling excitement consume you. Sukuna smirks, watching you prompt yourself up to get his cocks in your mouth. He stops you, his hand going on your chin. “You’re a cute little bitch… You’ll be okay. You can handle them both, right?”

“Yes, lord.” You nod in response, and Sukuna treats you as if you were a doll– More gently than he would treat an actual doll but he moves you as if you were one. He forces you to hold your legs to your chest, and the large tongue on his mouth licks your pussy, and moves down to your asshole. He’ll be sweet with you, especially since you brought back the name that you hadn’t used since your marriage.

The tongue teases the entrance of your asshole but Sukuna stops before anything else happens. He lays his cocks down on your lower abdomen, and you deeply inhale. You wonder how it’ll fit inside of you, but it always fits so you shouldn’t worry.

Sukuna doesn’t bother teasing the cock that goes in your pussy, immediately pushing it in which causes a loud moan to leave your lips. He doesn’t waste time in putting the second cock in your ass, and once you’re stuffed with him, he begins to move. He’s gentler with his thrusts this time, which you certainly appreciate since he didn’t give you time to adjust. 

He’s grown impatient with the idea of you giving him an heir, he can’t waste anymore time. And fuck, he just needs to feel you wrapped around his cocks. You don’t seem to be struggling either way, quite the opposite, you moan in pleasure with his every movement.

“I’m going to fill your womb up with my seed, and you’re going to give me what I deserve.” Sukuna says through gritted teeth to not let out another sound that hints at how good you’re making him feel. Sukuna will never say anything that could hint at him being happy with someone else– The most you’ve ever gotten from him was a marriage… order. Sukuna didn’t propose marriage, he simply told you that you two would be getting married. But you know that the face that he’s making and the way he talks, he’s feeling good. 

“I’ll give you what you want, lord.” You respond as his cocks hits every right spot, filling you with so much pleasure. His thrusts pick up speed, and your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head. Sukuna’s hand begins to play with your clit, and you begin to squeeze around him even more, causing him to hiss. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you big and round with his child. Sukuna can’t wait for his seed to bless your womb and all the changes that it’ll bring to your body. He can’t wait to steal some of the milk that’s meant for his child.

“Going to fill you up with my child.” Sukuna groans as you squeeze around his cocks. It’s too much for you, especially after he’s worked you up. You’re loudly moaning his name, just like he wants you to. He wants the servants to hear how he pleases his woman. It’s all too much for you since he’s filling up both of your holes and toying with your clit.

You shut your eyes, and see white as you squirt all over him, causing a chuckle to leave his throat. He lightly slaps your clit as you make a mess all over him. Sukuna can’t help but praise you for it, which is definitely something rare, “That’s my good wife.”

Sukuna bites his tongue, loving how tight and warm your holes feel. But you won’t get a noise out of him. His hand goes to your throat, however, it just rests there while his thumb presses against your lips, “The only woman worthy of carrying my child.”

Sukuna gets rougher with his thrusts as his release approaches. The thought of you carrying his baby makes him go insane. He’ll make sure it happens soon, he’ll fuck you every night until there’s confirmation that you’re expecting his successor. 

He mutters your name before he fills you up with his cum. He doesn’t dare to pull out until both of your holes are completely filled with his seed. When Sukuna pulls out, he lays down beside you. He brings you into his embrace while you take deep breaths.

Sukuna kisses the top of your head, one of his hands running up and down your back. Maybe Sukuna hasn’t exactly been fond of kissing before, but it’s definitely his favorite thing to do with you now.

[rafey-baby]

rafe has always been close with his sister…  

c/w: incest, dubcon, oral (m receiving), rafe being a perv about his (adopted) sister & her being inexperienced, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.7k

part two & moodboard

if this is something u don’t like, scroll & read something else xx   

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Her big brother has always been rather overbearing, which is something she’s tried to shrug off as him merely being protective, but as far as her understanding of siblings goes— they aren’t supposed to act the way Rafe does.  

Ever since they were little, Rafe has been weird about everyone in their strange family, but sometimes it makes her feel gross when he barges into her room while she’s changing— not even bothering to cover his eyes as he sits down on her mattress and starts ranting about something completely irrelevant.

It makes her feel disgusting when she notices the subtle smirk tugging at his mouth as his gaze narrows down onto whatever bare sliver of skin she’s hurriedly trying to hide from his borderline hungry eyes.   

And she doesn’t particularly enjoy when he gets wasted or high off of whatever he’s snorted at some stupid party and insists that he just has to sleep next to her because he’s not feeling good. And despite her drowsy complaints, he’s always snuggling too close for comfort with his hands all over her; pulling her flush against him and letting the cushion of his lips graze the skin of her neck.

He keeps telling her that it’s nothing out of the ordinary when he gives her details about the girls he’s slept with and what his favorite positions are, even if she’s told him multiple times that she doesn’t want to know. And whenever they’re home alone, he even goes as far as bringing girls to his room— making sure their loud moans echo right into her bedroom when he knows she’s trying to study.   

And whenever he’s tagging along during her little shopping trips (he doesn’t let her go alone because what if something happens?), he always demands on joining her in the fitting rooms— even squeezing himself into the crammed space when she’s trying on lingerie, claiming that she absolutely needs his opinion.   

“Rafe, that’s weird,” she tries to get him to wait outside but of course he merely rolls his eyes.  

“S’not weird, know how indecisive you can be, jus’ wanna help,” he says, seemingly genuine while he’s already fiddling with the clip of her bra.   

And she feels her cheeks burning when the cashier mentions how sweet it is that her boyfriend is paying for her clothes— to which Rafe merely chuckles while she can’t find the words to correct the poor woman because she’d probably faint if she learned the truth about their relationship.

More often than not, he tends to be borderline territorial. One time, she’s simply talking to a guy at some party, when all of a sudden, she feels an all too familiar presence behind her.

“Who’s this, hm?” he slurs, slinging a heavy arm over her shoulder.   

“Oh, it’s…um, no one,” she peeps out because she knows how he is. However, her attempts at calming him down prove to be fruitless because he’s already approaching the guy with a scoff.   

“You, uh, you do know that this is m’sister, right? Mine. So, why don’t you, uh, go ‘n try to impress some other bitch, yeah?” he offers him a sickly-sweet smile, voice harsh before telling her they’re leaving— strong hands on her waist already dragging her towards his truck.

“I was having fun,” she complains when he’s putting the seatbelt on her— his breath smelling of beer when he drawls out a reply. “You can have all the fun you want with me when we get home, yeah?”   

“But I wanted to spend time with my friends,” she pouts.   

“That’s just too bad then, isn’t it?” he murmurs while starting the engine— resting a warm palm on her thigh soon after, ignoring her efforts of shrugging it off.  

- - - - - - - - - - -

When he learns that she hasn’t had her first kiss yet (because why would anyone even think about touching her when they know Rafe is a complete psycho), he mocks her to the point of her eyes growing glossy as she tries to blink away the soggy droplets.

“S’okay, you wanna get it over with, hm? I’ll help you,” he so kindly offers with faux concern glimmering in the moonstones of his eyes.   

“Rafe, that’s gross,” she frowns, to which he merely furrows his brows before scoffing— as if she’s the one being weird.   

“So, uh, so you tellin’ me you want some…some stranger at a party who only wants to get in your pants to do it instead?” he narrows his eyes as if that’s the only alternative.  

“N— no,” her answer is hesitant.  

“Listen, m’just…m’just, tryna be a good brother ‘n help my little sister out, but if you don’t want m’help then don’t come cryin’ to me when you embarrass yourself cause you don’t even know how to kiss,” he lifts his hands up in surrender before shrugging, suggesting that he’d merely be doing her a favor.   

And before her brain has the time to process what’s happening, he’s already dragging her into his lap. And it feels wrong when their mouths are suddenly slotting together— when he’s letting out a shallow groan and slipping his tongue past her teeth without so much as a warning.

“Rafe! You didn’t tell me you were gonna do that,” she squeaks out, pulling away with her face all crumpled up, feeling disconcerted.   

“Shut up, you’re gonna wake up everyone, thought you wanted to learn?” he mutters out before he’s smearing his mouth on hers once more— this time with a tight grip on her jaw that forces her to stay put as the the kiss turns into something sloppy; wet.

And afterwards, he makes her promise that she won’t tell anyone because ‘you don’t want dad to get mad at you, do you?’ and even if she feels guilt eat away at her, she keeps it to herself because the last thing she wants is to upset anyone. 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

“Rafe guess what? I have a date tomorrow,” she gives him a giddy smile while stepping into his room a few weeks later.  

“With who?” he eyes her while slouching on his bed, seemingly in the midst of texting someone.

“This guy I met on the beach today,” she sits down on the edge of the mattress when he places his phone on his nightstand.

“Yeah? What’s his name?” he asks, shifting closer.  

“Um, Ethan.” 

“Last name?”  

“I— I don’t know, didn’t ask…why does it matter? Was just wondering if you could drive me there?” she says, surprised by his sudden interest. 

“Where?” his tone sounds almost exasperated now, as if she’s done something bad.

“Um, we’re just gonna hang out at his house,” she chews on her bottom lip, suddenly nervous.

“You havin’ a date at his house? You finally gonna lose that virginity, huh?” he asks as patronizing laughter bubbles from his chest.

“What? No! S’not like that,” she mumbles, her skin already boiling. 

“No? You do know when guys say they wanna hang out, it means they wanna fuck, right? You’re not that stupid, are you?” his gaze is borderline condescending when he raises his brows.

“Well, he’s not like that, he seems nice,” she tries to defend herself, feeling small all of a sudden.

“Sweetheart, every guy’s like that, especially the ones that seem nice, you’re so fuckin’ naive,” he scoffs while running a hand through his hair.

“You know what? Forget about it, I’ll just walk there,” she huffs out, standing up to leave, however, she doesn’t get far before he’s grabbing at her arm.

“Listen, m’just tryna look out for you, okay? Don’t feel like dealin’ with your shit ‘bout how he broke your heart. I mean, if you’re not gonna let him hit, he’s gonna be expectin’ somethin’ else, you know that, right?”

She swallows.

“I— are you sure? But…but I don’t even know how to—” 

“Poor baby, what would you do without your big brother, hm? Don’t worry, I’ll teach you, yeah?” he coos before pinky promising he’ll be gentle.

And that’s how she ends up on her knees in front of him. 

“Ray, this doesn’t feel…right,” she mumbles out, eyes focused on the ruddy tip he’s thumbing over while he stares at her.

“Shh, can be our little secret, yeah? Jus’ wanna make sure my little sister doesn’t embarrass herself,” he lets out a grunt when she blinks up at him with uncertain eyes.

“Open your mouth, tongue out,” he instructs while moving closer to her tentative form, biting his lip when she gingerly does what he tells her to. Then, he’s thudding the drippy head on the flat of her tongue— one, two, three times, which makes her let out a noise; something that only seems to spur him on.

He tastes salty and she doesn’t necessarily mind it, which makes her feel entirely too gross about the situation altogether— the words ‘I don’t wanna do this anymore’ turning into a tangled muddle when he’s already pushing past her lips, making her gag around the sudden intrusion.

“Shit, tha’s good, jus’ take it, yeah?” he rumbles out; a big hand holding the back of her head as he stuffs himself deeper down her throat— cock twitching in response to her whines and attempts at drawing away for air.

It overwhelms her to no end when he’s so rough, abrasive, but despite his broken promise, she’s unable to prevent her thighs from pressing together when throaty moans keep escaping him; his respiration turning labored by each lazy rut of his hips while her head begins to spin.

Only when his sticky cum gushes onto her tongue— the white substance dribbling past the seam of her lips and covering her chin in the process, does he grant her a moment to catch her breath.

“Guys like it when you swallow,” his voice is like gravel when he pushes at her jaw, heady gaze glued to the way her throat bobs when she does just that, the aftertaste of what they’ve done making her feel stained; dirty.

“You know, s’cute you thought I’d let some, some shithead fuck my sister,” he sounds almost humored as he pats at the flushed skin of her cheek— making her eyes turn watery when he swipes a thumb under her wobbly bottom lip to clean up the remaining mess.

She feels something in her guts churn when he tucks it back into her mouth with a sick smile.

[coffeebanana]

some things i've been thinking about (this was supposed to be separate ideas but now i guess it's a rough fic outline in bullet points kasdbfksbjd):

marinette telling adrien the truth YEARS later, after everything's settled down and the butterfly's been recovered and their identities are revealed

maybe they live together. maybe he was getting ready to propose

after his initial shock, anger, time he needs to process, mostly he just wants to understand WHY she lied

when she tells him the she just couldn't bear to hurt him any more than she already had to by telling him his father died, and some part of adrien sees that as his own failing--surely if he'd been stronger, if he'd been the kind of person she thought could handle the truth, then she would have given it

maybe they go to couple's therapy. one of the exercises they're given is to practice honesty with each other and marinette goes... a little overboard

adrien thinks it's sweet, at first. until he realizes she's scared to leave a single second of her day unaccounted for. she's stressing out because she forgot to tell him something minor and he doesn't want him to think she just decided not to tell him something again

he realizes just how much she's been beating herself up about this all these years. just how much she's always loved him despite her mistakes

he remembers the ring he has stashed upstairs

and maybe it's not the time for proposals. but all he can think is that even at their worst, he still wants forever with her

of course, he's never been one for keeping his affections to himself. so he tells her.

it's not a question, it's not an offer. it's a fact: I want to spend the rest of my life with you. i want to marry you. she looks at him like he's crazy, so he pulls out his ultimatum. but i need you to forgive yourself first

all these years, marinette's been secretly awaiting her punishment. secretly awaiting having to pay for what she's done. forgiving herself was never on the table

do you forgive me, she asks in a quiet voice

i don't know, he says, and marinette's heart sinks until he adds, but i know i want to

and in the end, it's not so hard for him to get there. for him to forgive one decision she made under the worst possible circumstances. one mistake in the midst of all the ways she's made him feel safe and wanted and loved. all the times she's held his hand or helped wipe his tears, all the times she's let him do the same for her

when it comes time to exchange vows, for better or worse is already something they've agreed to

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

Cryptid Bruce

Martha and Thomas Wayne struggled to have a child for years and Thomas meets a shady man who tells him that a child will come to them soon

Thomas just ‘??? okaaaaaay’s him but in a week, Martha bursts into his office looking frazzled

“We’re being haunted.”

“….”

“Don’t give me that look, Thomas Wayne. The Manor. It’s haunted. Alfred! Tell him we’re being haunted!”

And Alfred comes in, also looking frazzled but to a lesser degree.

The two explain that things are moving around the Manor without any kind of explanation, but Thomas doesn’t believe them. Until he notices things in his office also being moved. The weirdest event is when they start hearing a child’s giggles. No explanation. None.

Not until Thomas, sleep deprived after going over paperwork for one too many hours, pops into the kitchen and…there is a child. Sitting on the kitchen counter.

The child, a boy, turns. Grins. Waves.

“Hi, daddy.”

—

Bruce, they name him, can melt into shadows. He finds it hilarious. Martha thinks she’s going to go grey at her young age. She adores him. Thomas adores him. He’s their son now.

The Waynes have a mysterious child, but they keep their private lives very private, so maybe they just successfully hid a pregnancy? And then a child. For…three years. They think Bruce is three, at least.

Despite how odd of a child Bruce is, they love him dearly. He’s some kind of miracle. A…very weird, possibly magical(?) miracle.

—

Dick thinks his adoptive father is strange. Extremely strange. Bruce makes absolutely no noise when he moves. He doesn’t cast shadows but he seemingly is able to *blend into them*. His smile, whilst genuine, seems a little too sharp.

He thinks he’s a vampire.

Bruce laughs so hard, he doubles over.

“No, but I am the Batman, so I guess you’re not far off.”

“…is this a joke?”

“Nope.”

“A dream?”

Bruce pinches him and Dick yelps.

Bruce doesn’t explain to Dick what he is, because he doesn’t have a clue himself. He just…is.

—

But when Jason comes along, he has a million and one questions. Bruce blinks at him.

“How did you do that? You literally *melted* into the shadows!”

Bruce shrugs.

“No. *No*. Explain.”

“I…can’t.”

“You said no secrets, B!”

Bruce puts his hands up defensively. “It’s not a secret! I really don’t know! It just…kind of happens.”

Jason stares at him. Bruce stands there. He seems to flicker? The edges of his body go a bit transparent and Dick knows he only does that when he’s stressed.

“Leave him alone, Jay. He’s telling the truth. He’s just…like that. But he’s still Bruce.”

It takes Jason two months to accept it. By then, his questions are more from genuine intrigue and wonder. He hides under Batman’s cape and somehow it’s spacious? It can even fit Dick at the same time. No one (but Bruce) can even hear them when they’re under there.

And then one day, when he goes to take a nap under Bruce’s cape, someone else is there.

“….B?”

“…”

“You know what I’m going to ask.”

“…”

“*Bruce*.”

“No real names, Robin.”

“No one can hear me!”

“…I didn’t kidnap him.”

“What his name?”

“Timothy Drake.”

“FROM DRAKE INDUSTRIES?”

And Tim wakes up, rubbing his eyes. He looks exhausted and way too skinny, and all of a sudden, Jason understands why Dick has cooed at him the first night Bruce brought him home.

“Um…hi.”

“B, we’re keeping him.”

Jason doesn’t need to see Bruce’s face to know he’s smiling.

—

Damian just…appears. Bruce suddenly understands his parents’ reactions to his first appearance because nearly the same exact thing happens. Bruce wakes up from a nap. He doesn’t need to sleep very often, something Tim finds incredibly annoying, declaring it to be *unfair*. He wakes up, and curled against his chest is…a boy. Who looks a *lot* like him.

“Uh.”

The child wakes up, blinks at him w striking green eyes.

“Hello Father.”

What the fuck.

Dick slams his way into Bruce’s office, followed by Jason and Tim, who are bickering with each other.

“DAAAAAAAD, THEY WON’T SHU- oh. Steal another kid?”

“…he just appeared.”

“That’s the excuse you used for Jason.”

“No. Literally. I fell asleep. No kid. Woke up. Kid.”

“My name is Damian.”

“That’s no fair. You came pre-named?”

Damian is as odd as Bruce. Actually, he’s weirder. And stabby. Bruce finds him *delightful*. He adores him.

—

Dick is Nightwing, Jason is Red Hood (no death, he just thought it was a cool name), Tim is Red Robin, and Damian’s Robin.

Bruce is Batman. Despite being in his late 30s, he still looks like he’s in his mid 20s.

—

Batman stands in front of a bank robber who’s going on about their evil bank robbing plans. Nightwing pops his head out from beneath Batman’s cape.

“Can you get to the point?”

Red Hood pops out next.

“I’m getting bored.”

Red Robin follows.

“This is sad.”

Damian.

“Scum.”

Batman sighs.

“Why are all of you here?”

“Missed you.”

They all chime in.

The robber.

“How…how the *fuck-?*”

“Language. There are kids around.”

“B, I’m 23.”

“Says the boy taking a nap in my cape. And I was talking about Red Robin and Robin.”

“…’s comfy.”

“I’m eighteen???”

“F- Batman! I am not a child!”

There’s some shuffling sounds, no doubt Red Hood moving over to ruffle Robin’s hair.

“Whatever you say, Tiny Demon.”

And then Red Hood shrieks.

“No stabbing your brothers, Robin.”

“He called me small!”

“…you are.”

“This is insulting, F- Batman. I will grow to be as big as you. No. *Bigger*.”

The robber watches in confusion, mild amusement, and horror.

Batman sighs.

“We’ll talk about this later. Now, you were saying? Blowing up the bank, terrorizing the people.” Batman yawns. “Anything else?”

“Just take me to Arkham. I think I’m insane.”

[blvdheart]

what, too big, sweet thing?

cw: mdni, fem!reader, drabble, size difference, breeding kink, mention of birth control, aftercare

note: he could crush me. not that he would because he’s a sweetheart, but omg pleaseee i wanna be lovingly smushed by him ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀི i cannot describe the positions well, hope you guys understand

umm anyways, yes <3 thinking about how bulky he is.

him kneeling back on the heels of his feet and shoving his cock inside you while you straddle his hips, one of his hands splayed against the plush of your ass while his other arm is slung around the small of your back, keeping your back arched so you’re pressed against him all nice and snug.

you reach back to hold onto one of his hairy forearms—the one whose hand is fondling your ass. your nails leave indents on his skin, the slight tinge of sharp pain only making him slow down his pace so he can focus more on deep thrusts and making sure he buries himself to the hilt, until his balls are pressed up against your bottom.

or when he’s prone boning you, rutting into you from behind and making the mattress shake. your hands clawing at the sheets so hard your knuckles turn white. it’s only natural to need to clutch onto something when a hunk of a man is making your vision all blurry and rearranging your insides. right?

“leon…so big…fuck.” your sentences are all chopped up and spoken through high-pitched gasps, all you can do is say whatever words come to mind first.

“i know, i know i’m big. feels good, doesn’t it? you love this dick?”

geez, what a bastard. you nod eagerly.

one of his hands leaves the side of your hip, instead reaching over to slide his hand on top of yours. massive, of course, his fingers spread yours apart to accommodate the size of his. and god, you’re sure your fingers can’t spread anymore than that.

or hello? when he has you in a mating press, murmuring false promises of getting you pregnant against the shell of your ear. “c’mon sweet girl, you’d look so pretty with your stomach all swollen. what do you think?”

yours hands settle on his biceps, squeezing the built up muscles. so beefy. the headboard is slamming against the wall so aggressively you’re scared the wood will chip and break. okay, actually, no you’re not. you’re not even worried about that. you have better things to be concerned about, like whether leon is going to break you in half or not.

leon’s very aware of how big he is compared to you, even with his mind all clouded with thoughts of how good your cunt is and how much he wants to make you gush around his cock, he still manages to keep some rationality and keeps some of his weight off of you.

“mhm, want it. wanna get knocked up by you.” you whine in response, acting as if you weren’t on birth control and way too fucking unprepared for such a thing. not a problem, a girl can fantasize, can’t she?

it’s always so cute to him when you cum, the way your entire body writhes around while he cages you in entirely, the way you babble his name out endlessly, and he has to kiss you to shut you up. “so noisy.”

he always takes care of you afterwards. cleaning you up, massaging your entire body because yeah, being manhandled into different positions as if you’re a soft pretzel is taxing!

“here?” he asks, his hands on your hips, kneading away the discomfort that had built there. you’re just glad you didn’t get a cramp while he was fucking you.

he can’t help but laugh a bit (a lot) when you try to get up and your knees buckle. what an ass. but he’s also nice, so he carries you to whatever destination you desire until you tell him you’re completely okay.

[localvoidcat]

i really need to talk more about salvador and isa because i do have an unholy amount of thoughts about the both of them