#this man does NOT remembers that body he had possessed needs food

[fatherofpuppets]

BENRY >:D

[josephquinnswhore]

disarmed - joel miller x female reader.

Summary: you’ve been travelling with Joel for months, harbouring feelings for one another. Tommy helps the two of them realise how they feel.

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: mutual pining, fluff, mentioned a few times that joel is still grieving Sarah, jealousy, possession, age gap. Joel is in his forties and reader mid-twenties. Post outbreak fic. Reader had some dirty thoughts about joel.

Note: I’ve been awol for three months. Hello friends!! @katiexpunk Part two > testament to you.

"Ain’t gonna give up on me are ya?"

Joel calls out, checking over his shoulder to see if you're still behind him. You two have been travelling for hours, with the crunch of your boots against the snow that began to fall on the previous evening—the first official day of winter. They needed to reach Jackson before a mound of snow covered the area, or otherwise they would never know how long they would be there in this endless stretch of open space. With the possibilities of being stuck in a snowstorm, it dawned on them; the pressure to get to their destination.

Joel's crooked, uneven, scowling facade did nothing to keep you out or to halt your innate desire to preserve yourself by desperately attempting to make a connection with him, but for some reason, you had managed to accomplish what no one else could.

Make him feel affection, which of course, came with the pure unbridled fear at the thought of something happening to you. A fear he had not felt since..

“Not long to go now,” he murmurs, trying not to think about his past, his voice softening as he waits for you to catch up, he can see you are making the effort to keep up, your legs picking up their stride in an attempt to match his pace. Even so, at this rate they wouldn’t make it to Jackson before nightfall.

The weary look you give does nothing to comfort him either, internally, he cant stop any thought about you, wanting to know what you were thinking, what you were feeling, other than the pure exhaustion he could feel radiating from your pained expression and lame movements.

They were nearly at Jackson, to Tommy, after months of travelling and struggling for food, fighting against raiders and infected, Joel had made it his personal mission to keep you safe, to get you to Jackson. They had to make it today, before the sun fell, they were struggling for rations, between them, they had a can of baked beans left, two decades old and barely edible, it's clear to Joel that you’re losing hope.

“I know, not long, right?” You manage to reply after a few moments of thinking to yourself. The two of you had been surviving on scraps for weeks, you couldn't remember what it was like to eat a proper meal. For your stomach not to grumble and ache in hunger.

“When we get to Jackson they’ll have a bed for us, a real bed, probably a proper shower too, an’ food. Somethin’ for us to look forward to.” He glances your way, attempting to lift your spirits.

A crack of a smile stretches your lips, thinking about hot water, a real warm meal. “I don't remember the last time I had a real shower.”

“You’ll be able to finally wash that grease out of your hair too,” he mutters under his breath with a cheeky grin. He could only wonder how bad the two of them must smell at this point. Hes probably grown accustomed to the smell of his own putrid stench. A mix of grease, gunpowder, blood, dirt and body odour. You never complained though.

“Like you can talk, the stench coming from you is foul, old man.” A playful jest comes from you, one that makes joel smile, before feigning offence, he brings his hand to his chest as he scoffs. “Like you're any better.”

His lips turn into a genuine smile as the two of them share a light hearted moment, something that feels like it had been weeks since had happened �� he can't help but admit to himself that.. it feels nice. That he enjoys seeing this side of you, that he could be the one to make you happy.

The playful smile on your face slowly slips into the same tight line it had been for weeks on end. The monotonous expression Joel had become so accustomed to.

“Whats on your mind? Somethin’ botherin’ you?” Joel asked, sensing that something was off with you.

“Hm? Oh, no I'm good, just get stuck in my head sometimes I guess.” You manage to excuse yourself.

He knew very well what that was like, he himself spent a lot of time stuck in his head, they were more alike than he had anticipated. “That’s alright, I understand.” He reassures her.

You can't help the way you feel something for him, noting the way his hazel eyes always softened when he looked at you, his voice soft. But the constant fear nagged you, about the age gap, he was in his forties, and you only in your mid twenties. Did he see you as a kid? Did he see you as a woman?

Joel always tried to remind himself that you weren't a little girl, even with the evident age gap between the two, he still saw you as a capable, beautiful woman. He couldn't deny the way he felt when he was the one to make you laugh, those beautiful eyes of yours and how expressive they were. He couldn't deny he felt something for you, which puzzled him, it was a feeling he thought he would never experience.

The snow begins to fall heavier, and with how long they had to go to Jackson, Joel knew it would be best if they stopped for the night, to try and find some shelter for them, for her. As if an otherworldly god hears their thoughts, a small cabin comes into the near distance. You hope wordlessly that Joel would offer to stop for the evening. If not, begrudgingly for a few hours, at least.

He motions for you to follow him, in the direction of the cabin. “That looks like a safe place to camp for the night, whaddya think?” To Joel, this was an easy decision, he was tired of seeing you shiver when you camped outside, clutching to the sleeping bag for a sliver of warmth, the thin material never did much to sooth your chattering teeth. He doesn't want you sleeping outside ever again, if he had any say over the matter.

“You think it’s safe?” Your eyes scan the area, it looks abandoned.

Joel nods as he cracks open the door, scowling as the door creaks open loudly. He leads the way inside the empty cabin, he does a quick scan of the place before he steps inside, out of the snow. Its a fraction warmer inside, something you can appreciate as you close the door behind you.

“Stay close.” He whispers, keeping an eye out, the cabin was clear after searching for a few minutes, it’s a small area, a broken lounge in the same living space as the kitchen. The floorboards in the corner are starting to rot due to a leak in the roof, some of the snow falling through to the inside of the cabin. “Looks like we're all good in here, I’ll look around and see what I can find, we’ll sleep here for the evenin’.”

You shrug off the heavy pack that had been clinging in the same sore spot for hours on end, shoulders aching dully as you roll them, reaching your hands back to massage the sore spots. Your fingers are cold and stiff as you unclip your sleeping bag from your pack, setting it up in the small kitchen area, away from the corner that has a small leak in the roof.

“This place ain't so bad, better than most places we been sleepin’.” Before Joel can relax, he eyes a bookcase, it's large enough to cover the front door, with one push it topples over, with a grunt, the bookshelf falls securely over the front door, keeping them safe inside.

You look around a little in the kitchen, seeing some old trinkets covered in a thick layer of dust, a windchime, it creates a beautiful twinkle as your fingers caress the cold material, clanging against each other. Going through the draws, you have a look at a faded image, picking it up to inspect it, your heart drops, the image depicts a young family, two parents and a small baby, all smiling into the camera, in this very kitchen where you stood now.

You can’t help but wonder how long ago they resided here. If they were still alive.

“Must’ve been a family’s cabin…” His eyes glance at the photo as he leans down to rummage through the cupboards, finding a few cans of veggies that had been left behind, he sets it down on the bench next to you. “We made out pretty good on food this time. Are you hungry?”

Shakily, you return the photo back to where you found it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“You okay?” He asks, sensing the uneasiness in your voice. He grabs the tin cans of food and skillfully pops the lids open with his knife, handing a can of food to her. He nods towards their sleeping bags and they both sit down on the floor, he can't ignore the ache in his back and knees as he stretches his legs out on the floor. He tried not to think about it, sitting here with you on the hardwood floors eating out of a two decade old can of veggies was nothing worth complaining about, compared to the hell you two had endured over the months.

They were together at least. They made it this far.

“Yeah, I guess. Just doesn't get easier, you know? Thinking about it. They had a baby.” Hesitantly, you start eating with Joel, who seems silent.

He eventually nods in agreement. “Not everyone makes it.” He speaks quietly, even after all this time, he still mourns, he's been reminded of his loss time and time again, the image of the family was no exception.

They eat in silence, and you set the empty can beside your sleeping bag, sighing as you snuggle into the little warmth it provides. “Try and get some rest, we’ll head out at first light.”

“Goodnight Joel.”

He watches you settle, a small grunt escapes him as he keeps his rifle close, he leans against the wall. “Goodnight darlin’.”

“I'm sorry about your daughter Joel.” You whisper, before sparing him a glance and rolling over away from him. Joel watched you, the words pierce him, memories of his daughter haunt him, but he can't blame you. “Yeah, me too.” He mutters under his breath.

Joel stays awake, he's too restless to sleep at the thought of Sarah, losing her, relieving the pain and anguish of twenty years without her. Yet, the pain was as palpable as it was the night it happened.

The sun rises, and Joel rolls his sleeping bag, clipping it onto his pack. He notices you stirring awake. “Mornin’.” He grumbles tiredly. He stretches his neck, a loud crunch fills the air. “We should get goin’. I want to get to Jackson before midday.” He groaned as he stood, his knees clicking into place, worn and aching, the cold didn't help.

You wipe the sleep from your eye and pack the sleeping bag up quickly, not wanting to make Joel wait, he seemed pretty restless. Joel shoves the bookshelf off the door, opening it and takes a weary step outside into the daylight. He couldn't wait to see Tommy, he couldn't stop thinking about a shower, and a decent meal. They had been surviving in the wilderness for so long, Joel wasn't sure what he would do being back in civilization.

You pause in the doorway, watching Joel walk outside, his worn boots crunching in the fresh snow. “Just.. just wait a sec.” You wearily call out to him, looking back inside the cabin.

“What is it?” Joel asked, stopping in his tracks, turning to look back at you, a confused look on his face. You take a few quickened steps back into the cabin, pulling the drawer out to find the photograph of the family, before rushing outside to meet Joel. “Someone should remember them.”

Joel looks between you and the cabin, wondering what on earth you were doing. “Whaddya mean?” He asked, his voice gruff and full of confusion. He stands there for what felt like forever, watching as you return with the faded photograph in your hand. He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

You shove the photograph into the back pocket of your jeans. “Ready to go?”

Joel looks at you, a serious expression on his weathered face. “Yeah.” He motions for you to continue walking, he tries to push behind the thought of the family as they walk from the cabin. For some reason, there was a warmth in his chest, at your actions, something so miniscule could show the kind of person you were. Perhaps not all hope was lost with someone so compassionate like you left in the world.

It was relatively quiet between the two of you for the rest of the trip, only a few miles, the snowfall had come to a halt overnight, so the snow wasn't much of an obstacle, being so far away from any town, there were near to no infected, nor other people.

Finally, ahead, there it was. They had finally made it to Jackson, to Tommy.

“Shit. This is Jackson?” You ask in wonder, taking in the heavily fortified walls, the men patrolling on the walls with rifles. A haven.

“Sure as hell looks like it.” Joel felt himself finally relax, for the first time in months, even if only for a moment, they had made it. “C’mon, we can get inside before the snow starts comin’ down again.” He picks up his pace towards the gate.

“Are you sure they'll let us in?” You knew Tommy was here, but the anxiety of being turned away was palpable. Joel glances back, reassuring you with a small smile. “Dont worry darlin’, Tommy knows we’re comin’.”

The gates open, and the hinges whine in protest.

“Joel, you ugly bastard is it really you?” A southern voice calls out, as the gate opens, and you watch as a man embraces Joel, similar in looks, if anything, less grey hair. “The hell took you so long?” The man asked, a joyous tone in his voice as he embraced Joel.

“Yeah, were not easy but we made it.” Joel huffed out a laugh. Tommy waves his hand, a brief gesture for the pair to follow him inside. Tommy looks over Joel’s shoulder as they walk. “Who’s this?”

You stand behind Joel, a meek smile on your lips as you introduce yourself. Tommy smirks at Joel. Joel's face reddened, his younger brother’s stare made him heat up.

“Just get us set up Tommy.” Joel muttered, avoiding the amused gaze from his brother. Tommy’s wolfish grin doesn't slip. “Sure thing, follow me.”

The odd interaction does not go missed as you watch the pair, following them to a house that Tommy had organised specifically for Joel. Tommy lets them into the house to look around and Joel speaks up. “We've been out in the wild for a long while, and we're happy to finally be able to settle down for a bit.” Joel explains, looking at Tommy.

“I can imagine. Well, i'll leave ya alone to settle in for now. Were havin’ a get together later tonight at the hall, you should come. It’ll be good for you to spend some time away from each other for a bit.” Tommy jests.

You look between the two men, confused. “So where am I going to be staying?” You knew that Joel would probably want to be away from you, now that he had done his part in bringing you here safely.

Joel's head snapped in your direction and he stared at you for a moment. “With me.” He said, a little too quickly. “You'll be staying with me, here.” Joel’s eyes dart back to Tommy as if he was warning him against some smart arsed response. He looked a little embarrassed.

It didn't take an idiot to notice the glance you and Joel shared. Tommy smiled ear to ear as he watched the interaction between you two. “Alright.. Well you two can get settled here. Holler at me if you need anything, alright?”

As Joel nods, Tommy steps outside the house, leaving the pair alone again. Setting your pack down, you admire the house. “Nice place..”

Joel hums, nodding in agreement, setting his pack down next to your own. “Its alot nicer than where we've been campin’. And there's electricity.” Looking at the light Tommy had flickered on when he walked in.

“You mean we can shower?” Joel grins in amusement at your sudden excitement. “Hot water and all princess, why don't you go on and have the first shower?” The bathroom itself was simple, but it felt surreal to have electricity and running water.

“Are you sure?” Joel nods, “I can wait, its all yours.”

Joel closes the bathroom door behind you, and explores the bedroom, ruffling through the closet as he decides what to wear to this stupid get together tonight.

The hot water feels incredible, soothing the aches in your body, as you lather the vanilla scented soap, spreading the suds to wash the grime off your body. The colour of the water that runs down the drain is appalling, dark brown from grease and dirt. The shampoo is fruity, and a divine smelling scent you hadn't ever smelt in your lifetime. Lathering the clear concoction, you take your time to scrub the grease and disgusting things that stick to your strands of hair and scalp.

Its almost painful to shut the water off, but you know that Joel deserves to experience the hot water too, stepping out, you run your hand over the fogged up mirror, and hardly recognise yourself.

You slip on the clothes that had been provided for you, dark wash jeans and a long sleeved, tight fitting brown shirt. It accentuates your body shape wonderfully.

You look like a brand new woman as you emerge into the bedroom seeing Joel sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey.”

Joel looks up at you, his eyes widening as he takes in your form. You were even more beautiful than before, you looked radiant. He quickly stood, clearing his throat and he tried to keep his composure. “Hey darlin’.” He manages to utter out, his voice a little low.

Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze, hazel eyes roaming your body. “You gonna have a shower before we go?”

Joel glances down at himself, he now looked completely filthy compared to her, realisation sinking in.

“Y-yeah I think I will.. I can wash up in a minute.” As he looks back up at you, he notices your lingering gaze on him.

Were you checking him out too?

The tension is broken as Joel walks to the bathroom, taking his turn for the shower. Your mind wonders as the water runs, wondering what Joel looks like under all those clothes, if the hairs on his chest travel all the way down his torso, wondering if his tanned skin is the same delicious colour all over. A soft groan echos through the bathroom, gartering your attention, ears perking at the wonderfully intimate noise.

Something inside of you tingles in excitement at the thought, it's a hard thought to squash as you put your boots on. Joel's hair was damp, slicked back, the greying strands on his temple looked lighter than ever. The green and red flannel shirt hugged his torso and arms snugly, the jeans looked a size too small, clinging to his thick muscular thighs. His hazel eyes stared down at you as you looked him over, admiring him, he cant quite read the expression on your face.

Now it was your turn to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Ready to go?” Joel was still trying to come out of his haze as he stared at you, still trying to process the way you were checking him out. “Y-yeah…” He muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, let's.. Let's go..”

The hall is set up nicely, small bulbs hang from the ceiling emit a full yellow hue, there's an old record player, with vinyls underneath the bench it’s set up on, the melody of an old song echos through the hall as they walk in together, they gain some looks, from people dancing, young and old. Joel is brought into another hug by Tommy as he greets them. “Hey, look at you!” Tommy grinned. “You clean up nice.”

You silently agree, Joel looked as handsome as ever.

Joel's face runs hot as he hears Tommy’s tease, turning a rosy pink across his cheeks. He quickly brushed it off, rubbing the back of his neck as he attempted to maintain his composure. “Shut it, Tommy…” Joel muttered. Tommy grinned as he watched his brother's reaction, his eyes then shifting to you. “And you… look beautiful tonight.”

Joel watches your reaction to his brother's compliment, seeing you squirm a little. “Thanks Tommy. So… what exactly is this?”

Tommys grin remained as he motioned for you both to follow. “It's a get together, we do them to blow off a little bit of steam every once in a while, you know how it is.” Joel grunts in annoyance, not enthralled by the idea of being social, nor in the judgemental gaze of the community folk.

Your eyes follow the couples as they dance to the music. A sense of yearning overcomes you, wishing it were you and Joel dancing so intimately. It's something Tommy notices.

“What, you want to dance, girl?” He asked, a mischievous grin on his lips. Joel's eyes widened as he tried to get his attention. “Tommy…” He muttered in warning, his voice a low grumble.

You didn't decline tommys suggestion. “You offerin’?” Perhaps, if anything, you would be lucky enough to make Joel jealous.

Tommy nods, taking you by the hand as he drags you to the makeshift dance floor, away from Joel. “Of course.”

Joel could feel the annoyance bubbling up inside him. He wouldn't admit that he was starting to become jealous at the sight of his brother dancing with you.

You and Tommy dance, occasionally sneaking glances at Joel, who still looked unimpressed by the situation. Tommy laughs whenever he sees Joel’s scowling face, enjoying winding his brother up. Tommy took his turn to tease you. “So… what's it like travelling with my grumpy ass brother?”

“He's not grumpy with me.” You answer simply. This, Tommy raises a brow at. “Oh really?” He glanced over her shoulder at his brother, who was now glowering at the pair. “Looks real grumpy to me..” He teased, letting out a small chuckle.

“Only cause you're pickin’ on him.” You counter.

“You're probably right.” It wasn't uncommon for Tommy to tease his older brother like this, the more he saw how annoyed Joel was becoming, the more he wanted to keep this up.

“I like him, alot.” You murmur between the two of you. Tommy’s teasing expression dies down, shifting to an expression of empathy. He was quiet in thought for a moment before he spoke. “I can tell…” he glances at joel. “He's got it bad for you too.”

“Thats a lie if I’ve ever heard it, Tommy Miller.” You scoff.

Tommy’s brows furrowed a little as he scoffs as your disbelief.”You can't seriously tell me you're that naive, it's obvious he likes you, girl.” Joel's gaze darkens, eyes fixated on them from across the hall.

“He doesn’t like me.”

“Have you seen the look on his face? He's got this…” Tommy gestured to his own face. “...stupid look on his face since we've been dancin’. And he's lookin’ like hes seconds away from murderin’ me.”

You shrug. “He's just protective of me.”

“And how do you two interact?” Tommy asked. “Like, he dont seem too fond of me touchin’ you.” Joel's eyes flicker down to the way his younger brother's hand held your waist.

“I’m guessin’ you got some kind of plan, then, to prove me wrong?”

Tommy’s face lit up when you say this. “What do you think, girl? Are you up for it?”

A groan leaves your lips. “What’re you thinkin’?”

Tommy smirks, gently and suddenly twirls you, bringing you flush to his chest, the action makes Joel scowl. “We’re gonna piss him off just enough for him to come over. Sound good?”

You don’t miss Joel's reaction, maybe it did mean something..

“Okay, let's see what you got.”

Tommy grins, he pulls you close to him, dipping his head down to your ear, whispering. “You tell me if he gets too annoyed for yer likin’... I don’t wanna cross no boundaries.”

Tommy is an impressive dancer, you admit, and as nice as it is to be spun around the dance floor, your mind wonders what it would be like to dance with Joel, how he would hold you, where he would place his hands, how firm his grip would be.

Tommy dips you, making sure to keep a tight grip around your waist, and his body as close to yours as he could manage without dropping you, Tommy leans in, his nose close to yours. “Bit dramatic don't you think?” You mutter, eyeing tommy. There was a chance Joel would kill Tommy for this, and Tommy leans in, as if he was intent on kissing you.

That was it for Joel, he reached his breaking point, watching as his younger brother's actions grew more bold and more suggestive. As soon as he saw how close you two were, how intimate that moment looked, he pushed his way through the dancefloor, barging people that were dancing to get to them. Tommy’s plan seemed to work, getting the reactive reaction out of Joel, your eyes widened as Tommy straightens you up, the older Miller brother approached them.

“Now you've done it.” You mumble.

“Oh no, what have I done?” Tommy teases. Before he could say anything else.. Joel yanks Tommy’s shoulder, separating him from you.

Joel lets out a low growl, pushing Tommy further away from you. “What’re you tryna pull, Tommy?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Tommy protests, shrugging his shoulder out of Joel's grasp. “I’m not pullin’ nothin’. I was dancin’ with the girl, is that a crime?” Joel grits his teeth together, trying to stop himself from punching his own brother.

“He wasn't doing anything Joel.” You murmur softly, trying to calm the man down, but it seems to only agitate Joel that you seemed to defend Tommy’s actions.

His nostrils flare as he looks at you. “You're takin’ his side then?”

“Hey, come on, it ain't like that.”

His irritation grows, did you really think this was okay? That this was just friendly dancing? “You really think he was just dancin’?” He mocked.

Your brows furrow as you sense Joel’s rising irritation towards you, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “Yes, that's exactly what I think.”

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest, this was not going the way he wanted. “He was all up on you and you think this is innocent? You’re more naive than I thought.” He sneers, a low grumble leaving his lips.

It hurts, hearing Joel talk to you like this, and you shove past them before he can see the tears welling in your eyes. Tommy stops Joel from chasing after you.

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, turning to look at him. “Get outta the way, Tommy.”

“She likes you, Joel.” Tommy said, his hand not leaving his older brother's chest, needing him to listen.

Joel rolls his eyes, not believing that statement for a moment. “No, she doesn’t. She was just humouring you.” He tries to push past Tommy again.

“It was my idea joel. I thought if I turned up the heat a little you'd show her you're sweet on her.”

“...what?” Joel's face flushed pink hearing that. “You.. you were just trying to…” When he realised that this little stunt was all an attempt to show that they liked each other, it surprised him, was it so obvious?

“You know I wouldn't dream of makin’ a move on yer girl. Go on now, get her and tell her how you feel before she runs off on ya.”

Joel stares at his brother for a moment as his words sank in. Once it did, he nodded, understanding now that this was an attempt to try and make Joel admit his feelings for you. He didn't say another word as he turned out of the hall, rushing back to the home where he knew you would be.

You felt humiliated by the entire thing, by Joel being angry at you, he had never looked at you with that look of unbridled anger. It was always directed towards other people, the ones that had tried to hurt you. Never you.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy, easily recognisable to you. As he makes his way to you, where you’re packing your things into your pack, tears streaming down your swollen cheeks.

He calls your name, and you don’t respond, shoving things angrily into your pack, you know he’s at the bedroom door, watching you.

His heart sinks as he watches you, he steps closer to you, reaching his hand out to touch your shoulder, in an attempt to stop you. “Stop.” He muttered softly. “Stop packin’ yer things.”

When you don’t listen, Joel takes the pack from your hand and tosses it across the room, your possessions all spilling out into the wooden floor. “What the hell is your problem?” You snap.

“Would you just stop it?” He exclaims, frustration evident in his tone. He grabs your arm, firmly enough to garner your attention. Spinning you to look at him. “Why are you doin’ this?”

“You humiliated me!” You quip, voice trembling.

He exhaled, the warmth of his breath fans on your cheeks. “Listen..” he muttered. “Whatever you thought happened, it was the complete opposite. Tommy told me the whole plan, he was.. tryin’ to make me admit somethin’ to myself.. to you.”

Your cheeks warm as you realise Tommy snitched. “..oh.”

His large hands reach out to cup your face, turning your face upright, so your gaze would meet his own. “I care about you a lot…” he spoke after a moment, his expression softening. “I know I’m not real good at showin’ it, but I really..”

“I really do like you, darlin’.”

You sputter a response. “Tommy.. was right?”

Joel nods, his expression growing bashful as he tries to hide his embarrassment with a small snort. “Yeah.. stupid bastard was right.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to stumble over his words. “Have done since I saved ya all them months ago.” He confessed.

His hand runs through his hair again, something you’ve picked up as an anxious tick of his. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

It was a question Joel hadn’t really thought of himself, until now. “It’s hard for me to be vulnerable..” he admits. “I’m just… not really like that.”

It certainly wasn’t the first time he had trouble opening up about his feelings, but he wanted you to understand that he wanted to try, with you.

“Especially with.. the way the world is now.. I thought I shouldn’t get myself tied up in somethin’ that could just get me hurt later.”

The words that went unspoken, you understood. He was afraid of losing you. And suddenly, her eyes softened. “What changed? Seein’ me with Tommy?”

It was an embarrassing truth, one that he had to face. “Yeah..” he agreed, glancing away from you a moment. “It felt like someone was just punchin’ me in the guts. Seein’ you dancin’ with him I felt..” he groans. “Jealous.”

Unintentionally, you bat your lashes at him. “I was so convinced you wouldn’t like me, I made such a fool of myself.”

His brows scrunch together as he realises how his actions made you feel. He gently takes your face in his large hands, his thumb rubs your cheek in a soothing motion.

“Hey, you didn’t do any of that…” he murmured. “If anything I shoulda told ya ages ago.”

With his reassurance, you wrap your arms around his midsection, fisting the soft material of his flannel on his back. He doesn’t resist, although he relaxes from his tense stance, bringing his own arms around you. “How about we start over an’ I’ll do this proper?”

Your eyes widen, looking up at him. “Proper?”

He couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto his lips, your words make his heart flutter. “Y’know.. with you as my girl…” he murmurs nervously. “If.. if you’d like that?”

“I would like that.” You accept without hesitation, your voice soft as Joel leans his chin on your head, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t ever try an’ run off again. I’ll hog tie ya to the bed if I have ta.” A soft laugh leaves your lips at his threat, and you raise a brow.

“That right? Maybe I’ll take off one day, just to test you.” Joel’s eyebrows raise, a daring look in his eyes, arms tightening around you as he lifts you off the ground effortlessly, tossing you onto the plush bed.

“Yer mine now sweetheart, ain’t letting you go, ever.” He murmurs against your neck, hovering over you, pressing a small kiss to the soft skin of your temple.

“Mine till the day I die.” He growled possessively, the tender touch was a concise movement, one that contradicted his possession.

Somehow, you had disarmed him. And from now on, Joel wasn’t going to fight it.

[lipglossanon]

Star In My Eyes

Best friend!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

A Little More Savory tier commission from @porcelainseashore �� 💜 thank you!! 😭

Word Count: 2658 🫣

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, bf!leon, next door neighbor!leon, pining, lots of feels happening, Leon POV, jealousy, possessiveness, “just friends” 🤭, kissing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie

proofread ✍️

↺ ◁◁͏͏ ll ▷▷ ⋮≡

Things have settled back into their regular routine. Leon hasn’t brought up that illicit window scene—even if it has lived rent free in his head since—and you definitely haven’t brought it up. He kind of wishes you would; he wants to know if it meant anything or really was just the one-off it seems to be. But, you’re his best friend, the girl next door he’s had in his corner from the beginning. He’d be stupid to mess that up. 

Meeting you for lunch isn’t anything new; it’s literally a muscle memory for him to walk over to the campus cafeteria and meet up with you for a bite to eat. Today, he catches you already seated at a table and waves to you. You smile brightly and wave back before pointing at the seat across from you. A warm, fluttery feeling trills in his stomach like a songbird. Queuing in line to grab something from the menu, he can’t help but think that ever since that afternoon, Leon hasn’t been out on any dates. 

And he’s not upset about it either. You’ve been spending your free time with him too—talking about buying a new controller interface to produce better mixes for your beats. It all flies over his head, but you light up like the Fourth of July when chatting about it, and Leon’s happy enough to bask in that glow. 

After paying for his food, he’s so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t even realize someone has occupied the seat next to you until he’s sitting down across from you. 

The guy has the audacity to smile at Leon. “Hey, man.”

“Hey.” 

He flicks his eyes from this interloper over to you. You’re not even paying attention to Leon; your body’s angled towards this stranger with a smile on your face.

“Don’t lose my number now,” the guy winks. 

Does he think that lame-ass pickup line will work? Leon scoffs mentally, but his eyes cut back to you, and you’re still smiling at that guy. There’s no way you would give that loser the time of day—right?

“Uh huh, I’ll think about it.” You wave him off with a laugh, and the idiot finally leaves. 

Leon’s blood pressure skyrockets. That asshole gave you his number, and you took it? You don’t even know this guy; he could be a total douchebag. 

“Who was that?” He pins you in place with his stare. 

You shrug, like Leon’s not losing his mind right now.

“Some guy. I think we have a class together,” you pause before shaking your head. “Either way, he wanted to see if I was free this weekend.”

“For what?”

You laugh, “What do you think? He asked me out on a date.”

Leon’s stomach clenches uncomfortably. “And?”

“And I told him I had plans.” Your brows raise in concern. “Are you okay? I told you yesterday that I had to run some errands for my dad on Saturday, and we’re hanging on Sunday.”

He forces his shoulders to relax. “Yeah, I just thought—never mind. You coming over today?”

You smile, confusion hovering over your features. “Of course. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Things were not fine. He enjoys the rest of lunch with you, talking about classes and upcoming assignments, but in the back of his mind, he can’t stop thinking about how casually that guy hit on you. How you just sat there, smiling, instead of telling him to piss off. Leon’s literally sitting right in front of you—your best friend—so there’s no need for some loser to come barging in.

After splitting up for different classes, Leon’s thoughts run in a constant loop. He gets why that guy hit on you; the why isn’t the issue. He just hates that you even entertained that Neanderthal. How many times have you complained to him about a terrible date? Countless times. Leon can’t even remember all the horrible details of each one—only that once it’s all said and done, you come to him for comfort.

And after all, why not? He’s your shoulder to cry on, the one person who’s been by you through thick and thin. Which, of course, goes both ways, but he can’t help but feel protective of you. You’re too sweet and trusting; a prime example being that dickweed at lunch. Leon is so in his thoughts that he doesn’t even take notes for any of his lectures, just sitting in his seat for each one and thinking about you. 

How often does that kind of thing happen? Especially when he’s not even around. How many guys have hit on you, and you’ve never thought to even mention it to him? Glaring at random guys he sees around campus, Leon stews in his emotions—possessive jealousy and frustration coursing through him and sending his thoughts on a downward spiral.

By the time Leon leaves campus, he’s decided on a new course of action. He’s really going to show you he’s the only one for you. Running through ideas on the drive home, he thinks back on all the things he’s done that had you acting overly affectionate toward him.  It’s guaranteed to happen when he helps you out with something—like the last time he changed the oil in your car without asking him to or fixing your old radio.

Not seeing your car parked out by your house, Leon decides to just hang around the garage, maybe tinker with some little projects he’s got on the side. You brought over a busted speaker the other day, and since he has the free time, he might as well work on it. Plus, it’ll help with his plans as well as take his mind off of things.

Losing track of time, he doesn’t lift his head away from his workbench until you’re clearing your throat behind him. 

“Whatcha working on?”

He stands and stretches, rubbing his neck to work a kink out. “Think your speaker is almost fixed up. Wanna solder a few things before testing it.”

“Oh nice! Thanks, Leon!” You smile, peering around him to look at the mess on the tabletop. “That saves me so much money, you don’t even know. You’re the best.”

Pride suffuses his chest, your praise lighting up his brain.

“Eh, just glad to help.”

Leon watches you walk over to the couch and relax onto the cushions. After stretching a bit more, he walks over and rolls the garage door shut before joining you. He sinks down into the soft material, legs splayed out in front of him. Drumming his fingers on his thighs, his eyes shooting over to the pack of smokes on his workbench.

“You should cut back,” you tease, kicking your shoes off and tucking your feet under his thigh.

“I don’t even smoke that much.” He rolls his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips. “Besides, you’re not my boss.”

“You’re right. I’d fire you for insubordination.” You tease, and he shakes his head with a chuckle.

Lapsing into silence, Leon’s thoughts circle back to earlier at lunch. It can’t hurt anything to feel you out, see what you really think about that guy.

“You gonna call that dude who gave you his number?” His fingertips tap a nonsensical beat on the top of your foot.

You wiggle your toes against his thigh. “Eh, I don’t think so. Honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve even been on a date I’ve probably forgotten how,” you laugh. 

Leon doesn’t know what possesses him, but he blurts out the first thought that crosses his mind. 

“We could practice.”

He doesn’t know why he says it; it was just a word vomit moment. There’s no way—

“S-sure,” you look away shyly. “Just a friend helping a friend, right?”

He nods so fast his fringe moves with the motion. “Right! Nothing weird about wanting to help out a friend. And we’re best friends, so it only makes sense for me to help you.”

You finally look back over at him, plush bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Leon wants to sink his own teeth into that lip.

“Okay. Um, so where do we start?” You straighten up in your seat and smooth your hands down your shirt.

“Well, what’s making you nervous?” His own heart races in anticipation.

“Well, if things lead to more, I’m not sure what I’d do,” you pull your feet away to move closer to him.

“Yeah?” Arousal pools hot and fast in his gut. “Want me to take the lead?”

“Please,” you murmur, eyes drifting to his lips. Your hand reaches up to brush his fringe from his eyes. 

“It’s just helping out a friend.” The words are quiet, like you’re trying to convince yourself. Leon, not wanting to lose this chance, rubs his palms down your sides. 

“Of course.” He nods, helping you straddle his lap, brain buzzing with so many thoughts it’s all noise. “It’s just practice.”

“Uh-huh,” your eyes droop, sinking your weight against him, hands resting on his chest. “Just pretend.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, bringing one hand up to cup the back of your neck. 

He pulls you down as he tilts his head, slotting your mouths together like puzzle pieces. His cock stiffens in his jeans when you gasp and melt against his body. Your kisses are soft and hesitant—your mouth parting immediately when Leon swipes his tongue across the seam of your lips.

It’s easy to get lost in this slow, sensual makeout. Leon’s hands grip onto your hips, thumbs pressing right into your hip bones. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, making his cock twitch every time your nails scratch against his scalp. He’s so lucky that you trust him with something like this—that you’re willing to be this vulnerable with him. 

His feelings are all over the place, but the one thing that definitely stands out is the bone-deep satisfaction in knowing you're all his, at least for now. You rock your hips down against his bulge, and he groans against your mouth.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this.” You pull away, lips kiss swollen and dilated gaze locked onto his. 

His fingers encircle your wrists where your hands rest on his chest, keeping his eyes on yours. “Oh?”

“Mm hmm,” you offer him a fond smile, his favorite kind; it reaches your eyes and makes them soft. 

He drops kisses to your jaw, the apples of your cheeks, then your parted lips. A surge of want so heady it makes him dizzy has him kissing you deeply.

So that’s how one thing leads to another—hot, sloppy kisses to dirtily grinding your damp, panty-clad cunt against the bulge in his briefs—and now you’re both naked, with Leon pressing you down into the couch cushions while he drags his cock across your sensitive clit.

“We’re best friends, right?” He murmurs, taking your hands in his and pressing them above your head.

You nod, eyes glassy. “Of course, Leon. Best friends.”

He rubs his thumb over the pulse point in your wrist before reaching one hand down to grip the base of his dick. Slapping his cock down onto your wet cunt, he notches the tip at your drippy hole. His heartbeat’s in his throat. 

“This okay?”

Whining, you cant your hips toward him. “Yes, please, wanna feel you.”

Groaning from deep in his chest, Leon rocks forward, sinking inch by inch into your snug cunt. He hopes to god he can hold out. You feel way too good. His eyes slip shut, and he pants heavily, one hand gripping your hip while the other still grips your wrists. 

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, finally opening his eyes to stare down at you. “Such a tight cunt.”

He watches your lashes flutter as your pussy grips his cock like a vice. He groans, pulling out to fuck back in just as deep. Letting go of your wrists, he slides his other hand down across your body, groping your breasts before gripping your hip.

“God, you showing me these gorgeous tits the other night—can’t stop thinkin’ about ‘em,” he dips his head down and bites at your stiff peaks, tongue swiping across each hard nipple. “Teasing me in the window like that? Got me so hard.”

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, and he groans.

“Leon,” your hands move to grab onto his broad shoulders, making his muscles flex under your hands. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, pulling out halfway before rutting his cock back inside your snug pussy, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips.

“Your soft wet pussy feels good, too,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. “Your pretty perfect pussy, and it’s all mine.”

“All yours,” you whine, hole pulsing and sucking his cock in further.

You gasp out, lips brushing against his, “Have you ever felt this good with anyone else?” 

“No, never. You’re so good, so good for me,” he pants, mouthing and biting at your breasts.

He raises up, grabbing for your hands until he can lace your fingers together, pressing your clasped hands down against the couch cushions. Now, Leon’s face to face with you, watching the pleasure twist your features erotically. 

“You drive me crazy,” he tells you, voice gentle even as his hips thrust roughly against yours. “Just wanna keep you all to myself.”

“Leon,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I feel the same way.”

He presses your lips together, licking into your mouth with a moan. He can’t get enough of the way you taste, sucking on your tongue greedily. Thrusting faster, his cock pounds into your sopping wet cunt harder and harder—the sound of skin slapping together sounding loud in the garage. Letting go of your hand, he slips his fingers between your bodies and begins strumming against your puffy clit. 

It’s like a live wire runs through your body, muscles tightening and twitching while your pussy walls flutter around his cock.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper against his lips, and he kisses you heatedly, swallowing your moans and whines to keep stowed away for when he’s alone in the dark of the night. 

“Do it,” he murmurs, pulling back until he can lock eyes with you. “Cum for me, show me how good you feel, baby.”

Whining, your head arches back, legs clamping down around his waist as you cry out softly. Leon can feel the difference; your pussy milking his cock with your inner muscles until he’s groaning and burying himself balls deep. Belatedly he realizes he’s cumming inside you raw, a hot spike of arousal driving him to rut deeper into your cunt, hot ropes of cum spurting thick and sticky inside your hole.

Giving you a few minutes until your legs drop away from his body, Leon eases out of your pussy, eyes glued to your puffy cunt as you leak his cum onto the ugly green cushions. You stretch and raise up with a moan, reaching for your clothes strewn in the back of the couch. 

Dressing quietly, Leon’s unsure what to do or say next. A line was crossed, whether or not either of you admits it out loud, and he only hopes you’re both crossing over into the same direction. 

“Shit!”

Leon’s pulled from his musings at your urgent tone. 

“I told mom I’d stop by the store on my way home and totally forgot. Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. 

Tossing on your jacket, you stand up, patting your pockets until you find your keys. 

“Talk later, okay?” You drop a quick kiss onto Leon’s lips before walking over to the garage door and rolling it open enough to slip under. 

You shoot him a smile and a little wink before letting the door drop closed. Leon sits there dumbfounded, brain oddly quiet as he processes what just happened. Maybe you’re both more on the same page than he thought. 

[neoameba]

Your only and most devoted.

Heian era!Ryomen Sukuna x Male!Reader

A/N: Potentially abusive relationship, There is a slight mischaracterization of the character, but nothing much beyond that. The reading can be interpreted as 16+, although it is not a smut. Can be read as ftm!reader. Don't date someone like Sukuna ☠️.

Summary: Having a relationship with Ryomen Sukuna is crazy, everyone knows that. But, it's generally agreed that [Name] is crazy enough for that. The human man clearly has no sense of danger, or just loves the feeling of being grabbed and squeezed by the ancient sorcerer.

Another massacre was completed, and [Name] happily returned to the place where Ryomen Sukuna lives. With it, several bodies were also carried without much difficulty. Of course, all these dead human bodies would be given as food. That was the man's job, to do whatever Sukuna told him to do.

It is curious to think that he is the only being who came close to Sukuna and lived peacefully to tell the story... But it does not matter. The king of curses' right-hand man soon arrives at his destination, and once he does, he hands the bodies over to Uraume to cook.

...

[Name] kneels. It's him... He deserves absolute respect, and of course [Name] will do that.

"O great Sukuna, allow me to warn you that dinner will be ready very soon." The human says, still with his head lowered. Although it is customary to do so, he preferred to be on Sukuna's lap...

The man in front of him lets out a brief laugh, he needs to say; finds it pathetic to see [Name] kneeling. Maybe because he knows the human would rather be somewhere else right now, like in his lap, or because he remembers some moments when [Name] was in that exact position, but looking up at him...

"... Come here quickly, don't make me wait." He knew how to read [Name]'s mind so well.

It doesn't take long for [Name] to be on the other man's lap. Sukuna's hands slowly roamed over his smaller body, he had that typical smile on his face, the smile that [Name] loves so much. It's that sadistic smile, of someone who knows they have someone in their hands, and that they can do whatever they want with them.

"I love you-"

"I know."

No words are said after that, it wouldn't be necessary. Sukuna always knew everything [Name] thought. The human's short hair was caressed by the king of curses, in an almost obsessive way. All of Sukuna's actions had something more... And that was another thing [Name] loved.

He likes how the king of curses kisses him, how he runs his hands over his body, and how he makes a point of showing that he is the most special. And of course he is. He is the only one who can touch the four-armed man's body, he is the only one who can feel Sukuna's warm tongue inside his mouth, the only one who will always be by his side.

This isn't a romance, it's not cute at all. It is a purely feeling of adoration, possession and obsession that only [Name] has come to have with Sukuna. He would go to hell if it meant being with Sukuna forever, he is insane and nothing can change that.

[trancylovecraft]

| ★ : could you maybe do headcanons on how striker be if he was jealous? Like he saw reader drunk flirting with someone? How would that be? — ♪ .

(HELLUVA BOSS) YANDERE STRIKER x FLIRTATIOUS DRUNK! READER: Headcannons

Thanks for ordering!

Come again soon!

Ooh, Not a good situation, Especially with the likes of Striker.

Striker barely lets you out of the house at all. The only time's he ever does is when he's taking you on dates down to the lust ring and even then it's very sparingly he does. He needs to keep you safe, You know?

Even then when he takes you down to a nice place with a bar it's not like you'll be away from him long. You're either hanging off his arm or sitting in his lap, No in-betweens with this man.

But let's say when you're going down to the bar Striker gets distracted by something, Let's say it's when he's taking your next order. By this point you've been drinking to take the edge off of your stalker (It's Striker, But you'll never know)

So you've been popping corks and downing shots of moonshine, No one's stopping you of course and there is no drinking limit. This is hell after all.

So as Striker is distracted by the waitress and him ordering your food you find yourself dazed by the restaurants flashing strobe lights, It seems more like a club with the hollering music and the near screaming chatter of crowded people.

You barely register an arm slinging over your shoulder and a sleazy smile appearing on an unknown mans face. You're mind is fuzzy and blurred as your smile becomes slurred.

Striker by nature is extremely jealous. I headcannon him as possessive and he does NOT like it when you talk to anyone other than him, Even if it's platonic or in a professional setting he just cannot stop the deep desire to shoot that person through the head and take you away.

It's why he's so clingy in the first place. He doesn't like anyone trying to steal his possession so he lets everyone know who you belong to with his presence being with you 24/7

He tells himself his feelings is just because he wants to protect you. Not because he's jealous, No, His pride is too large to admit that. It's not like he'll ever admit it either, No matter how much you ask.

As the man starts flirting you start to flirt back without a single thought in your mind. A sly compliment here and a mindless sultry response in return, You can barely keep your legs straight as he begins to guide you out of the restaurant.

BOOM!

Suddenly the demon fell to the floor with a gunshot wound going straight through his head. His body slumps over as the chatter around you turns to screaming and people try to exit the restaurant in mass.

You barely register when you're grabbed by the arm and Striker gets up in your face, Screaming as he asks you "What the hell you were doing" in his accent. You don't understand his words as you slur your response.

Striker doesn't have time for this as he hoists you over his shoulder. He's absolutely furious as he spits on the corpse of the demon and carries you out of the club. He can barely contain the snarl on his lips as he throws you over the back of his horse.

Later on when he calms down and you've sobered up. Striker realises that it wasn't your fault, You were drunk but that didn't mean it made him any less angry or paranoid.

Luckily you remember the events through spinning lenses but Striker tells you that it was an accomplice of your stalker and he had to kill him for your safety. You believe him, He's done so much to protect you so why would he lie.

Doesn't mean you get off scot free though. No more dates for the next few months and you're forced to stay inside your room as punishment for "cheating on him". Striker's forgiven you, But he still does like the look of guilt and remorse in your eyes.

Overall, Just don't go to shady restaurants in hell. Also get the fuck away from Striker but that's neither here nor there.

[galaxythreads]

Foegive me of this is a question you've answered in the past but, what are your thoughts on the scene at the beginning of Avengers 1 where Loki sort of doubles over/trips on his way out of the SHIELD base and it's never addressed?

Also thoughts on the canonicity of various myths to the MCU Loki backstory?

no worries, I don't mind answering questions twice. My blog is long and tales tales, so I understand if people don't want to hunt for answers and just reask stuff.

as far as your question goes,

SCREAMING SCREAMING SCREAMING. Do you KNOW how much I LOVE that SCENE (the answer is no because I haven't talked about it) but I LOVE THAT SCENE! That is THE scene to me. I love everything about how carefully it's handled because what you have to look for is SUBTEXT here, because the Avengers was written in a way that forces you to think. It doesn't lay everything out for you, it's intended you come to your own conclusions.

The Avengers trusts you and that is a very strange thing for media now. It's pretty rare to find one that doesn't treat you like an idiot.

Breaking this down:

The first frame with Loki is of him kneeling. That is the first thing we learn about him. I want you guys to remember that the introduction of a character is HUGE. It tells us the most important things for us to know about that character right now

So what do we need to know about Loki RIGHT THEn. Right at the start of the movie?

he's smart. He opened the portal with the Tesseract, from across space, and teleported himself to another planet. This is something no one has replicated (using an infinity stone from across space). Loki is said to "know it's workings like they never will" which says a lot about him.

Loki was GIVEN the scepter by the Chitauri, but if you watch that opening opening scene, it looks more like it's being forced on him than him GLADLY taking it. (There's this half second where the Other waits to make sure Loki is actually going to hold it. Loki doesn't reach for it until he has to. One of the most powerful objects in existence and it practically has to be shoved into his hands) Look how close their bodies are. Like bro???

-okay, then Loki comes through the portal and he is KNEELING. so the first, and I mean the VERY FIRST thing we need to know about Loki is that he is in the subservience of someone/thing else. This gif below is artwork of that moment, but still. Like. who do you think he's kneeling TO? Well, the opening scene of the Avengers showcases that the Other is kneeling to Thanos, Ergo, using the subtext trust that the director/writers have given us, that means Loki was kneeling to Thanos before he came through the portal.

And then, Loki comes out like a hunted animal, but he legitimately does not remember he's holding the scepter until Fury points it out to him. You can see him look down at it in confusion. And okay, WHY is he confused? I remember watching this for the first time at 14 and going huh, that's kinda weird he forgot he had the weapon. What this is trying to tell us is that this is not a familiar weapon to Loki AND -- it is doing something to him. It's emitting that same misty thing that it does when Loki possesses someone later. That wispy smoke is always so interesting to me because of the implications. The scepter doesn't do that unless it is FRESHLY possessing someone. And what do we know about Loki TWO SECONDS AGO?

he was kneeling to thanos.

Anyway, so Loki gives his name, is not a well man, and the scene you're actually referring to is this one:

which GETS ME EVERY TIME. I could talk aout this scene for hours. The implications of it. (Also if you've read my work YSFSLWFTCA, that man who grabs Loki's back is Nathan Swenson ;)

So I've been getting professional acting training for about 6-7 months now and one thing I have learned is that nothing makes it in the movie by accident. The director has to approve it, the editor, the producer, up the whole food chain. This was not Tom Hiddleston sneezing and then them keeping it in the movie because it's funny. So this was put in on purpose. They WANTED you to know that Loki isn't okay. And a scene like this would get like what? idk 3-6 takes at a minimum, which means that they flimed this ON PURPOSE 3-6 times. Tom Hiddleston was instructed to do this ON PURPOSE. That guy who approaches Loki's back was told to do that ON PURPOSE. Loki was supposed to be shown to be a mess physically. Like. Then they go and KEEP doing this later, when Loki can't get into the car and can barely keep himself upright. Loki doesn't start to look "okay" until Germany and even then he's not doing amazing.

What's interesting to me, beyond the obvious implications toward bodily harm - torture! :) - is the timing. Loki immediately topples when Clint hands the Tesseract to Selvig. There's something about Clint doing that that seems to cause him physical pain. That could be a coincidence, and I bet it is because it's not brought up again in the movie that the Tesseract exchanging hands gives Loki physical pain, but it is interesting.

Another interesting point is that Clint looks away, Selvig doesn't care, but that sheild agent Immediately moves up to put his hand on Loki's back to support him. And Loki doesn't flinch. That always struck me as weird, right, because even people who don't have trauma flinch when someone touches their back and they weren't expecting it. And Loki clearly wasn't? So why didn't he twitch at least a little? Tom Hiddleston is too good of an actor for that to be a mistake.

So to me that means that Loki just... doesn't have feeling in his spine at that moment. Or he was in too much pain to even register it. Loki was clearly tortured with some type of heat. If you watch him in this scene he's displaying all the signs of heat exhaustion. So I kinda think that maybe Loki got burned so badly on his back before this happened that he just... doesn't feel anything anymore. It had to have been recent for walking to nearly send him toppling, but Loki's back is a source of issues for the entire movie.

That is why this scene is here from a directing perspective. to SET UP Loki's back problems. The extent of them are left vague, but I think when Tom Hiddleston and Joss Whedon sat down to talk about Loki for the Avengers, one of the things they must have agreed on was that Loki was not in good physical condition and they planned to show that THE ENTIRE MOVIE. I don't know if they talked about torture or Thanos, but they talked about SOMETHING.

But I just...idk. That guy grabs Loki's back to support him in an effort to help and it's just so interesting to me. Because how does the mind control WORK then? Selvig is obsessed with the Tesseract. He almost seems possessed by that rather than Loki. Clint goes completely silent and doesn't do anything except the mission. THIS GUY immediately comes to take care of Loki, and Loki himself is ruthlessly efficient with one goal in his mind. So it's interesting. Subtext! :D

So what do I think about this scene. I think that Loki was tortured and his back is giving out and I LOVE THIS SCENE BECAUSE IT IS SO DARK BUT TRYING NOT TO BE.

Thanos' immediate response to something not going his way is torture and he knows Loki. Knows him well enough to pick his brother out of a crowd in Infinity War and leave him alive until the end. Knows him well enough to make his death personal. Strangulation is a crime of passion. Thanos hurt Loki and he knew Loki, and the idea that Thanos made sure that Loki wouldn't see the torture coming - by doing it to his back/spine - is just an extra layer of awful. Thanos left Thor alive. On purpose. He could have killed him. He didn't.

That was Loki's punishment. Leaving Thor alone. Because Thanos knew that would hurt him the most.

But Thanos also chose to kill Loki, and in infintiny war, while hunting the stones, Thanos doesn't make any unnecessary bodies. Which to me, means that Thanos had to kill Loki because he saw Loki as a threat.

So anyway, somehow I'm talking about Loki and Thanos again, who are my favorite horrible duo and I love talking about them because their relationship is so so messed up. I wish that the Loki series had DONE something with Thanos and Loki, but they didn't. :/

But why Loki's back? Like Thanos started with Loki's head in the post-credits scene of Thor 1:

why did he move to Loki's back? Also the fact that Thanos was having Loki hunt down the Infinity Stones through astral projection and/or enchantment is just so messed up and I love it. Wish it had been explored because THIS ^^^ was the giant beast I wanted poked at in Loki season 1.

[orshii]

Will I ever see you again? CHAPTER 2: Slow Down

Author: orshii

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x reader

Warning: cursing, violence, alcohol consumption, drug use

Word count: 5 k

Summary: You were left alone with your brother, Yunho, and his best friend Hongjoong, after your parents' death. Yunho had someone to grieve with, but you? You had no one as your brother and his best friend pushed you away, singing becoming your only savior. There was one rule that Yunho made inside his friend group: “Don’t touch my sister”. And for this reason, Hongjoong had always kept his distance. But one night, you find yourself in danger. And from then on, Hongjoong does not leave your side. He is suddenly overprotective of you, and your relationship shifts and becomes fraught with tension and unspoken feelings, with secrets lurking beneath the surface and a painful past haunting you. Will you find out the secrets your brother and best friend have been keeping away from you? Will you be able to finally free yourself from your cruel past?

Will you fall in love amidst the chaos around you?

A/N: Chapter 2 is here finally, sorry for updating so late, I just needed to figure out some things in the story. More secrets are coming to the surface and their connection gets a little...hotter. Poor Wooyoungie tho. Idk about you but I love this possessive Hj haha, and it'll get more interesting. Thank you for reading, byee!

Taglist: @bvidzsoo @vixensss @deltamoon666 @scarfac3 @chatsgotmytongue @xiang-zalea (taglist is open if interested)

The four men stared at me like they were the hunters and I was their prey.

"Now that fucker, Yunho, will give back the money he owns us, for sure." The tallest man said, stepping closer to me.

I slowly stood up; they were only inches apart from me. I inhaled deeply, trying to get myself together. There was no point in panicking. No one was here to save me, I needed to save myself. I looked around, two men were standing on my right side and the other two were on my left side. They were blocking my car, the takeaway food was splashed on the dirty ground, and my bag with my keys was meters away from me, getting to my car wasn't a choice now; I needed to run.

"What money?" I asked and slowly, very carefully stepped back, trying to appear confident.

"Your brother robbed us, and took all of our money, so he will pay now." Again, the tallest man stepped closer to me as I stepped back. I guessed he was their leader.

He grabbed my chin and lifted it aggressively, "We should play a little with this slut." His mouth was barely inches away from my face. I felt disgusted.

Fuck, this isn't good. I needed to think, very quickly. Suddenly, Hongjoong’s words were echoing in my brain.

If your timing is perfect, your enemy will be on the floor in seconds.

 I remembered what Hongjoong taught me. Four against one isn't fair. I can't just knock them all out. A stupid plan started to form in my mind as I took in my surroundings carefully, analyzing where I could run, and I knew— It was now or never baby. The man was trying to say something when I suddenly shouted.

"Look, what is that?!" I said as the four men looked behind themselves. I quickly punched the man in front of me, right in his solar plexus, and he was on the floor in seconds. But I had no time to wander around. I started to run, run for my fucking life. I ran opposite my car, into the dark streets. I looked behind me and the three men were running after me, the fourth a little behind. I was breathing heavily, I wasn't used to running, it was ridiculous, this predicament was a joke. Adrenaline crawled through my body as I was still running, and looking behind my back, I saw the four men slowing down. I guess they weren’t used to running, fuckers. I knew this town just like the back of my hand, so I knew a place where I could hide, I just needed to get there.

I ran down short and narrow streets, turning left, then right. I don't fucking know what kept me going, but the adrenaline pumping through my body gave me some kind of superpower. I even climbed over fences; I was running like the Flash. I didn't recognize myself, it was as if someone kept me going, giving me the power to go, to not stop. Then I let myself look behind me again, and I saw no one.

However, I didn't stop running until I reached an old building where we always played with Yunho when we were little. The memories suddenly hit me at once: numerous times when we’d snuck out with Yunho to play here because somehow, we felt happy and safe here. That is why I came to this place, it always gave us security, making me believe that I would be safe this time too. When I finally went into the building and sat down, I held my breath for a short minute, just to make sure no one was following me, and that was when I finally started to panic. Suddenly, everything hit me like I was a punching bag. I took quick breaths, trying to understand what the hell happened mere minutes ago.

 Did they try to kill me? Who knows what the hell they wanted to do to me…

What the fuck did Yunho get into? What money were they talking about?

My body was shaking from running and from the overwhelming emotions that flew through my system. I started sobbing, lifting my knees to my chest, grabbing my hair with my hands. Then I started to laugh, at this whole situation, at the fact that my stupid plan worked. I needed to cry because I did not know what all of this was, I was so confused about what just happened. My heart was beating fast, it felt like it might explode at some point. After ten minutes, somehow, I got myself together, and after breathing in and out a few times, I pulled my phone out to text Yunho.

ME: Someone fucking attacked me, and they talked about some money you owe them. What the fuck Yunho?

For a moment, quiet overtook the abandoned house, and then suddenly, my phone's screen lit up. Yunho was calling me.

"Where the fuck are you?" I heard Yunho's voice immediately as I picked up.

"At the old abandoned house." I told him.

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly.

"Yes, I ran away." I said quietly.

"Stay there, don't go out until we arrive!" He said, his voice furious, and hung up quickly.

I waited in the dark, it swallowed me like I was one with it. I just stared at the white wall in front of me, which seemed almost black from the lack of lightning as it barely lit up the abandoned house due to the streetlights being faulty.

I didn’t even realize how much time had gone by when I finally heard a car quickly stopping with its tires screeching and two doors slamming shut. I stood up and looked out the window, and saw Yunho and Hongjoong. Of course, Hongjoong just couldn’t stay out of this. I stepped out of the building and was met with two pairs of worried eyes. Yunho quickly ran towards me and hugged me.

"Fuck, are you okay?" He grabbed my face to check if I was hurt.

"Yes, I'm okay." I pushed his hands away.

"What the fuck happened?" Hongjoong asked, stepping closer to me and checking my body, trying to find an injury.

"I was at Granny's ordering some food and when I went out to my car, suddenly four men appeared and they pushed me onto the ground—and they were talking about some fucking money and Yunho—I somehow ran away, I was lucky, I guess—I don't get it, what the hell—who are they?" I quickly told them what happened, stammering as I felt overwhelmed again.

"Fuck, this is because you couldn't shut your mouth, Yunho!" Hongjoong said, angrily looking at him.

"What the fuck, Hong?! It was necessary for our plan, what else could I do, do tell me, please!" Yunho shouted at Hongjoong.

"They fucking attacked Y/N! Who knows what the hell they are going to do next time." Hongjoong pointed at me. "Your plan is shit; we can't do this anymore." Hongjoong stepped closer to Yunho, staring at him with sharp eyes.

Again. Like I was not even fucking there.

"What plan? Oh, my God, tell me something for fuck's sake!" I shouted at them.

They looked at me like they were surprised I was there too.

"It's none of your business, we will take care of it, don't worry." Yunho said, trying to hold my hand.

I scoffed and pushed him away. "Yeah, of course. Take me to my car." I went to Hongjoong's venom-green Mustang Shelby and sat in the backseat.

I was so fucking angry, I felt sick. The fact that they never tell me anything at all, made me feel again like I was just a fucking object, never truly acknowledged and cared for. I hated them. Yunho and Hongjoong.

As I got angrier, so did the familiar melody I heard playing in my head again…

≫The furious dragon sped through the clouds

Just to bring the storm to the people who deserve it≪

When we reached my car, as soon as Hongjoong stopped, I got out of his car and went to collect my things that were still scattered around the dirty ground, and went right to my car, sitting in it. I locked the car so Yunho couldn't sit inside too, because I knew, that from now on, they were going to turn into my fucking babysitters. I turned the engine on and quickly drove away, not wishing to see them.

The next morning when I woke up, I felt like a zombie. I hadn't slept well because I had nightmares about dark figures trying to push me down to the ground, just until I drowned in the sudden water that appeared out of nowhere, hands that seemed like shadows pulling me deep down to the bottom of the ocean.  

I went down to the kitchen so that I could eat something before I attended my classes as yesterday night I had no appetite to eat anything. When I was close to the kitchen’s door, I overheard Yunho and Hongjoong talking.

"We have to find them before they find us." I heard Yunho say, his voice still raspy as I assumed he got up just a few minutes ago.

"Yes, but we don't know where they are. They are not the foolish type to stay in plain sight, this whole thing seems to run way deeper than it initially seemed to." Hongjoong said in a low voice.

"I easily fooled them still." I said stepping inside the kitchen, and they looked at me surprised.

"You just had luck." Hongjoong said with fierce eyes, looking at me only for a second before he returned to the table.

"Are you kidding me?! If I would've panicked, I wouldn't be fucking here." I scoffed at him, going to the counter to grab a glass and pour some water for myself.

"I'm glad you were smart and tricked those motherfuckers, I'm proud of you." Yunho came to stand next to me, pecked my temple, and ruffled my hair.

I wanted to slap him, but he slipped away chuckling before I could, "You coming to Mist tonight? There's going to be a party." Yunho asked.

I shrugged, "I don't know, I'll speak to Yeosang to see if he’s going."

"Alright. I'll grab my stuff and then we can go, Hong." Yunho said leaving the kitchen.

I poured water into my glass and turned around, leaning against the counter.

I looked straight into Hongjoong's eyes, "Will you tell me who those men were? I want to help you; who knows, maybe I can recognize the ones that attacked me." I said, lifting the glass to my mouth to drink, but Hongjoong stood up and came right in front of me and grabbed my wrist, stopping me from drinking it.

"Don't try and bump your nose into things you shouldn’t, just be a good girl and stay low. You saw what happened, so just stay the fuck out of this." His eyes burned me like I was a match waiting to be lit up, burn me down until I was nothing.

"You make it sound like this is my fucking fault. Is it my fault that four men tried to fucking kill me? Were you there? No. So stop telling me to ‘stay low’, when none of this is my fault." I yelled at him furiously. I was sick of this shit already. His face remained impassive and cold, but I didn’t care anymore. I didn't want to see him, so I went back to my room to get ready for my classes having lost my appetite.

The furious melody did not want to leave my mind again, playing it over and over, until my mind found the right words to match with.

≫The world sees you as a fool

Like you are the fault in the stars≪

My classes went by quickly, thank God. I was with Yeosang the whole day and we decided we'd go to the party. We really needed some partying before our exams started. It was a good excuse to let go of everything. I needed to catch a break from my thoughts because if not, I might drown in them.

Yeosang helped me choose my outfit for the party, which consisted of a tight black skirt, paired with a white crop top, alongside black high boots reaching up to my knees. My hair fell onto my shoulders naturally, and I put on some make-up and accessories. Yeosang wore black ripped jeans and a green blouse with a low cut, his collarbones exposed. He put on a necklace with a padlock on it. I figured he wanted to find someone that would have the key to open it. Well, anyways, that’s what I told him, making him laugh, until he suddenly turned serious and said,

‘True’. I was sure he’d find someone tonight because, damn, he looked so beautiful I got nothing on him.

When we arrived at Mist it was already crowded. It took us longer to arrive because on our way, we decided to buy Whiskey and then we secretly drank it on the bus, on our way towards the club. We laughed loudly during the ride, conversing animatedly, drawing attention to us, pissing the people off around us. So, by the time we had arrived, we were already tipsy enough to start dancing, joining the crowd. We became one with the dancing bodies, becoming one of them. This was what I needed—To get away from my thoughts.

I felt the rhythm of the music slowly engulf my being, spreading from my head to my toes. The strangers’ bodies hugged around us as I held Yeosang's hand while we jumped up and down happily to the strong rhythm of the music. The music was loud, the colorful lights blinding us as we danced like there was no tomorrow. After a while, we decided to drink something as we had started sobering up, and that wasn't the plan at all. So, we went to the bar.

"Two gin tonics and tequila shots, please." I shouted to the bartender, trying to speak over the loud music. I knew him, he was from Yunho's friend circle, Jung Wooyoung.

"Isn't that too much for a pretty girl like you?" Wooyoung looked at me with his sharp foxy eyes. He had two piercings near his eyebrows, making him look even more intimidating. He wore a simple black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans. He had a few earrings and rings too. I couldn’t lie; he was handsome as hell.

"It's not, and I'm here too." Yeosang stepped in, next to me, staring at Wooyoung pointedly.

Wooyoung chuckled as he started preparing our drinks. I looked around, but I didn't see Yunho anywhere. Maybe he was making out with a girl, somewhere deep in the crowd, or was trying to piss Mingi off. Suddenly, my eyes landed on someone. Someone who was smiling, and that someone was Kim Hongjoong. I promise to God, it was a rare sight to see his smile, let alone hear his laugh. A girl was next to him and as he leaned against the wall, he whispered something in her ear while holding her waist. It was quite obvious what he was doing, shamelessly flirting with her. It was weird seeing Hongjoong like this, he never really did things like that. At least not when I was around.

He was wearing jeans that were two colored, these colors the opposite of his hair black and white hair. The top part of his body was hugged by a white T-shirt and a denim jacket, black boots his choice of footing for the night. He had a good sense of fashion, that was obvious.

The longer I kept staring at him, the more I realized I should do what he was doing. I should let go and just feel free for one night, if possible. I turned back to face Wooyoung as he had finished mixing our drinks. Yeosang and I downed the tequila shots right away, and then, he suddenly leaned closer to me.

"Can I leave you here for a little bit? I might have found the one holding the key to my padlock." Yeosang winked at me.

"Yes, of course, go." I smiled at him, pushing him away playfully. I watched as he disappeared between the dancing bodies when suddenly an idea came to my mind. I turned towards Wooyoung again.

"Do you have something—stronger? You know…" I looked at him while trailing off, hoping he knew what I meant.

He slightly frowned at me, a small smirk present on his lips, "You mean, pills?"

"Yeah." I said, trying to sound and look convincing.

"I do have some." He kept his sharp eyes on me while he wiped a wet glass dry, "Do you want some, pretty girl?"

"I do, actually." I looked at him, batting my eyelashes at him with a sweet smile on my lips.

I wasn’t really sure if he knew whose sister I was, and so, I wanted to take advantage of that.

He leaned over the counter, face close to mine, "If you dance with me, I'll give you some." He whispered so close to my lips that they almost touched mine.

I looked down at his lips, then up into his sharp eyes, “Don't you need to work?"

"My shift is over, pretty one." He said smiling charmingly, never taking his eyes off me.

"Okay." I agreed in the end, I could use some fun too.

He smirked and moved away from me to get the pill, and then walked around the counter. He stepped closer to me as he held something in his hand. Then he slowly poked his tongue out and placed the pill on it, his eyes never leaving mine. He raised one of his eyebrows as if he meant to say, 'Take it if you want it', while leaning towards me. My heart started racing. Fuck, he looked so hot like this, why wouldn't I take this one-time opportunity? I slowly leaned down, closer to his face, feeling his hot breathing puffing against my lips. But he didn’t wait until I was close enough to kiss him. Wooyoung eagerly closed the distance between our lips, crashing them together like there wasn't a pill slipping past our entangled tongues. I felt when the pill finally was passed onto my tongue, into my mouth, but we didn’t pull away straight away. His lips moved against mine, rushed, his tongue discovering my mouth as I moved mine along his. My arms slowly crawled around his neck as he pulled me closer to him by my waist. That is until I felt a strong hand grabbing my left shoulder, yanking me away from Wooyoung. He bit my bottom lip painfully due to the sudden motion. I could taste blood, mingled with Wooyoung’s saliva.

I turned to look stunned at the one who yanked me off, it being none other than Hongjoong. He looked so furious I was afraid he might kill someone. And I wasn't joking as he grabbed Wooyoung's shirt and pulled him close aggressively, his T-shirt threatening to tear apart at any second.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Wooyoung?" Hongjoong said in a low tone, he was shaking as he held Wooyoung.

"Dude, chill, what the fuck did I do?!" Wooyoung asked, looking confused.

"Did you give her pills? Are you insane?" Hongjoong pushed Wooyoung a bit, still not letting him go.

"Yes, because she asked. Now let go of me, you fucker." Wooyoung pushed Hongjoong's hands off himself. As Hongjoong released him, Wooyoung tried to straighten his T-shirt.

"She’s Yunho's sister; you should be grateful I was the one who found you two like this." Hongjoong said, looking at me for a second, making me feel little under his sharp gaze.

"So what? It should bother Yunho, not you. What?” Wooyoung asked, lifting his pierced eyebrow, “Are you fucking her behind his back?"

It truly was the worst idea to provoke Hongjoong, because as he heard the things Wooyoung uttered, he lost his morality. He didn’t care that the guy in front of him was one of his best friends. He punched Wooyoung with the force of a boxer, obviously, and it made Wooyoung fall to the ground immediately. Luckily, Hongjoong didn’t knock him out, I guess he still had that very little sanity in himself still. I gasped, however, hardly believing my eyes. Did Hongjoong just hit Wooyoung?!

"What the fuck, Hongjoong, are you out of your mind?!" I shouted at him, my body trembling from the sudden anger I felt.

He suddenly turned around, coming towards me. He grabbed my chin and lifted it up to look straight into my eyes. "Spit it out!" He commanded like I didn’t have a choice at all.

I poked out my tongue, just to show him that there wasn’t anything on it anymore, "Fuck off, you are not my brother Hongjoong! You are acting ridiculous." I said to him, pushing him away and turning my back to him. I wanted to go back and dance, lose myself to the music and the people around me.

But suddenly, Hongjoong pulled me back by my wrist. "I'm going to take you home, right now." He said with a face void of emotion, making me unable to read what he thought and felt, it was fucking annoying.

"I'm not going anywhere!" I shouted at him, trying to free my wrist from his hold.

He stepped even closer, holding my wrist harsher. I was sure his grasp was going to leave black and blue marks, "Yes, you are!"

But I couldn't really do anything as he dragged me out of the buzzing place, towards his venom-green Mustang, still squeezing my wrist painfully. He opened the passenger side door and pushed me inside. I didn’t recognize this Hongjoong, he was someone else, some kind of demon had taken over him, fighting for who would be in control. I was shaking as I felt terrified of the thought that he might hurt me; he could do anything to me if he wanted to. He probably saw me shake because he broke the silence as he started driving.

"I won't hurt you, Y/N. I would never." He said quietly, looking forward as his hands clenched around the steering wheel.

Still, I looked down at my wrists, where some faint red bruises started to appear. I just leaned my head against the window, to gaze out at our moving surroundings. Tears started appearing in my eyes as I suddenly felt so many emotions all at once that I couldn't handle. I started feeling dizzy, remembering the pill I took. It finally kicked in, making me feel numb, as if my soul left my body. This was the feeling I craved for, but not in this setting, I’d rather be anywhere but here. I cradled my wrist to my chest, 'Yes, you would never…'

The long-forgotten melody crept into my mind, trying to break through my thoughts, break my walls down, to save me from there. I let go as words broke through my walls.

≫The moon has two sides as well, a dark and a bright side

Who knows which one will light the dark at night≪

“Why did you kiss him?” Hongjoong suddenly broke the deafening silence.

I looked at him with a frown, “Because I wanted to?” Words barely came out of my mouth as everything felt blurry.  

He suddenly stepped on the gas pedal, speeding down the way home, “And do you want him?” His voice got lower as he clenched the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

“What are you talking about?” I was looking at his side profile, watching as he got angrier than he was before. He floored the gas pedal and we were flying down the silent streets. 

“Do. You. Want. Him?” He glanced my way, a dangerous glint in his eyes. I held onto the door as I was pushed back into my seat by the sudden force.

“For fuck’s sake Hongjoong, slow down! Are you crazy?!” I shouted frightened as he continued speeding.

“Answer my question!” His voice got even louder now, and he had to shout over the sound of the loud engine of his Mustang.

My heart was thumping like crazy, breathing heavily. I felt overwhelmed and overstimulated from the drug and the alcohol, and now the adrenaline too, the sudden speed making me feel like I was about to collapse any time.

“No!” I shouted, “I don’t want him! Just please slow down.” My voice cracked as I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore.

Then, as if his sanity finally returned, he slowed down, not daring to look at me. When he pulled up in front of our house, it was quiet. It was quiet, but at the same time, it was the loudest as my brain was full of loud noises.  I looked at his side profile, I could only see the black side of his hair, his dark side as he looked like he was still battling with his inner torment, biting his lower lip. I didn't dare move; I was scared if I did, he’d do something brash again.

He then slowly looked at me, "Are you shaking?" He looked panicked.

I couldn't control my body, there was too much happening at once. The alcohol mixed with the pill, I couldn't even think—of course, I was shaking.

I just looked down at my hands, as the world spun around me.

"Fuck, Y/N!" He took my hand, my wrist now bruised.

I looked up, just to see him looking worried. He seemed like he couldn't even believe he was the one to harm me. Yet now, he held my hand in the most delicate way possible, holding it as if it were a treasure.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, please forgive me." He looked into my eyes with his own teary ones. He was finally allowing me to see the real him, he lowered his walls.

He raised my hand towards his lips and left little kisses on the bruises, whispering little apologies against my skin, as if he could heal it like that.

I watched him, still struggling to process what was happening, "Please, just take me to my room, I don't feel good." I closed my eyes and it was a mistake because I felt like I was on a roller-coaster. He snatched his head up quickly and opened his door when he saw my face. He ran around the car to open the passenger door.

"I got you, sugar." He whispered, leaning down to slowly help me out of the car and hold me up bridal style, holding me close to his chest so that he wouldn't drop me. I hid my face in his neck, his scent hugging me around. It was dark, yet still sweet like honey.

I felt us going up the stairs after Hongjoong had managed to unlock the front door and walk inside the dark house, finally reaching my room. He slowly, and very carefully placed me down on my soft bed. I closed my eyes as he pulled my boots down.

"Do you need water or something else?" He leaned down, holding himself up by his right hand placed next to my head, his two-colored hair falling into his eyes. His other hand caressed my cheekbones. I couldn't speak, so I just shook my head no.

Suddenly, we were staring at each other as if we were like two magnets, not even blinking.

"Kiss me." I suddenly whispered, surprising myself too, having suddenly found my voice.

"I can't, and you know that." Hongjoong whispered, leaning down closer to me, even though he had stated just the opposite of his actions.

"It's just a fucking kiss, don't be a scared little cat, Joong." I whispered against his lips, brushing my thumb over his soft lips, trying to tease him. He would break eventually. And I liked playing games.

I don't know what came over me, but I just needed to kiss him desperately. Even though he treated me like shit, and shouted at me, I was still lost in his eyes, which stared into mine with a flaring desire. He continued looking at me as if he was fighting with himself, trying not to make a bad decision.

"Please." I whispered, looking up at him pleadingly.

"Fuck." Then he suddenly crashed his lips against mine. He tasted sweet, like strawberry cake. The kiss wasn't hurried, it was slow as our lips moved together passionately. I moved my hands slowly up, to bury them in his hair, pulling him even closer to myself. He kissed me even more animatedly, possessive almost as if he were an addict and I was his drug. But the moment didn’t last for long, emotion dissipating just as fast as it came, as we suddenly heard the front door slamming shut. Hongjoong immediately jumped away, standing up to his full height.

"Shit." He ran his fingers through his messy hair. "This never happened." He looked at me with eyes ablaze as I continued lying in my bed.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows to look at him better, "Yeah, I just knew you couldn't resist me." I grinned at him.

Hongjoong scoffed, "You’re crazy." And then he left me there, in the dark, as I still felt his lips on mine.

 ≫Two sins met each other

Just to collapse together like magnets≪

As they were just outside my room, I heard Hongjoong telling Yunho that he drove me home because I wasn't feeling well, and then Yunho thanked him footsteps fading.

Not knowing that Hongjoong had kissed his little sister merely a few minutes ago.

<Previous Part Next Part>

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

Jason The Toymaker Headcanons

The grind never stops fr fr. Sorry for disappearing I had summer classes and then a certain triangle demon from a kid’s show is took up most of my attention and creativity, and now I’m in regular classes and silly goofy video games have taken up my attention and creativity when I’m not slaving over my art projects for school. Teehee. Oops!

Jason has been another underrated character in this fandom imo, and I especially love love love LOVE characters who just get so obsessed with shit. I can’t remember if it was canon or fanon about him, but I love the fact he gets so possessive of his friends to the point where he kills the competition. And also the friend. Because the best friend to have is one you have complete control over, right?

Anyways.

Cis man? WRONG.

Like you’re gonna look at Jason and tell me that motherfucker has only ever used he/him pronouns? Bro is an eccentric Toymaker ffs

Jason uses any pronouns. Even the ones that don’t exist. Bro collects that shit like Pokemon cards

Hey remember LJ? Yeah Jason made him

I mean hello??? Sentient toy clown? That’s right up Jason’s alley

Jason has also made other clown characters, like Candy Pop

Jason is also one of the few inhabitants that straight up doesn’t need to eat food. Ever

Much like Nina, no one’s really sure what he is, they just know its immortal like everyone else and insanely hard to kill

Most people also avoid them or go out of their way to not get emotionally close to him for super obvious reasons

Like. They’ve all seen her workshop. Every week he comes back with a new human he’s lied to and whisked off their feet with some bullshit fantasy and within the next few days they’ve made a doll of the poor guy

Jason technically isn’t even allowed to do that, humans aren’t allowed to know of the existence of the manor or Slenderman or literally anything that goes on there, but does Jason care? Absolutely not

Slenderman tried getting on her ass about it once, and by some miracle Jason was able to talk themselves out of punishment

Besides making morbid people dolls, Jason of course also makes random other toys. Almost all of them are sentient or are able to think and comprehend speech

Jason uses Mr. Glutton (the snake) as not only a chair, but a garbage disposal as well. Need to get rid of body parts? Give to the snake. It’s like a black hole in there

So y’know how Anne and Eyeless Jack are the go-to doctors of the residency? Jason is the fix it guy for anything that’s not biological

Torn clothing? Jason can sew it up for ya

Gun/chainsaw/mechanical weapon is jammed? Jason has a fix for it

Broken trinket from your room? Jason somehow has already made an exact copy of it for this specific occasion

You could count on one hand the things Jason doesn’t know how to fix

And still despite being the repairperson no one usually sticks around long enough to chat

You’d think with how delusionally clingy this mf is that it would be a problem but surprisingly no

There’s a reason why xe specifically only targets humans

Like? Humans as a species are so easy to manipulate? And are leagues more fun to torture and scare than her fellow serial killer roommates

Similarly to how the others make bets on what weird item Helen can use as a murder weapon, they also make bets on how fast Jason’s next victim gets dollified

So far the record is a single day because somehow one girl had the balls to pull an 80s horror protagonist and stabbed Jason with their own fabric shears

She didn’t get far. Obviously. What’d you expect from an entire mansion crawling with murderous entities. LJ accidentally clotheslined the girl while reaching between doorways for something

Everyone on the third floor then got to bear witness to Jason dragging her back to his workshop by her ankles. Using the same fabric shears. The carpet is still stained from how much she bled. I’m pretty sure one of her fingernails is still lodged in the wall, too

While they don’t share a studio/workshop, Jason and Helen often use a lot of the same crafting materials. They have a mutual relationship where if one of them goes out, they return with something both of them ran out of recently

Beyond that they literally never speak to each other, and they both like it that way

Jason is way too eccentric for Helen to be able to stomach for longer than an hour, and Helen is too particular with so many different things that it gets on Jason’s nerves

One of the few people that does stick around Jason often is Ann

Obviously there’s the underlying factor that Ann literally owes her current life to Jason, but even outside of that stipulation, Ann finds them pleasant to hang around

Unlike Jason’s other doll experiments and creations, Ann is the only one that came with sentience already attached. Saved Jason the hassle of having to create an entire consciousness network from scratch

Like damn, vengeance is one hell of a powerful force, enough so that once Ann was put back together by Jason, she was up and functioning practically immediately

The two aren’t inseparable per se, and definitely don’t see each other as anything more than friends (Ann moreso than Jason), but you can often find them in the same room interacting

Jason, like many of the others, adore Sally to an unnerving degree. It seems as if everyone, no matter how much they dislike kids or ghosts or humans or whatever else Sally counts as, feels a supernaturally strong urge to protect the kid. Jason is one of the few seen with her constantly

Yeah go figure the Toymaker likes to appease the child

But seriously it’s a little freaky how Sally has this effect on so many people. Someone should look into that

While it’s one of the most recent additions to the household, Jason is one of the oldest entities within the group.

Like hello bro was around in the late 1800s, Jason has peepaw bragging rights

With that comes the stipulation that Jason hates modern technology. The newest thing they own is a sewing machine from the 70s

I think it’s pretty obvious that because of his peepaw status, + the fact Jason thrives off unhealthy obsessive friendships, a lot of the younger residents hate her, and vice versa

Is friends/close with: Sally, Ann, Nina, and LJ

Is neutral about: Jane, EJ, Kagekao, Helen, and Slenderman

Doesn’t get along with/hates: BEN/Ben, Jeff, Clockwork, Puppeteer, Liu, Masky, and Hoody

Ben is practically the antithesis of Jason. Modern tech manipulator vs old fashioned old timey manipulator

If those two somehow end up in the same room it’s ON SIGHT

Nina and Jason are constantly bitching and gossiping about anything and everything under the sun. Somehow someone who’s besties with Jason’s rival is also besties with Jason. Nina is just that talented, apparently

Ofc they also bond over fashion. Who do you think makes most of Nina’s batshit insane wardrobe pieces?

Puppeteer annoys the hell out of Jason. That, and he keeps trying to steal and manipulate all the dolls Jason makes. Rude.

Jason is the only one allowed to destroy xer own work. If it catches you fucking with any of the dolls, thrown away or otherwise, you can kiss your existence goodbye because Jason will make it her life’s mission to see to it you never have peace again

Tries not to be in their true/corrupted form too often considering how rotted his arms get in that state. The skin flakes off and everything, and it’s really inconvenient when you’re trying to work on fine craftsmanship and your own rotten black flesh keeps falling into your paint or some shit

Not exactly the easiest thing to control though. The more emotionally volatile Jason is, the more likely you’re gonna see him at his worst

[echoedcrosshairs]

His Queen ~ Boba Fett x F Force User Reader

Summary: You and Boba use to be a thing before he fell into the Sarlacc pit and since returning he hasn’t reached out so you decided to make the first move to see if the flame still burns.

Warnings: smut, mild talk of violence, unprotected sex, PiV, dirty talk, gloved fingering (f), creampie, age gap if you squint, cockwarming, exhibitionism, jealousy, mild breeding kink if you squint, possession if you squint, regret, helmet kink, dom/sub/switch play

Word count: 6.2k

You leaned back into the large throne noting that it needed some serious pillows and padding. Two Gamorrean guards walked in with their weapons draw advancing towards you. Your lips curled in annoyance but you allowed them to come to the edge of the throne before extending your hand and making one fall before you used him as a foot rest.

"Make yourself useful, get me something to eat and tell the Great Daimyo that The Queen is here," you purred making yourself as comfortable as possible.

The other guard ran off and the one under you stayed still, it's probably been a long time since they seen a force user let alone a women who wields it like a weapon. You're kind trailed off remembering Boba and how long it had been, anger trying to boil over that he survived and didn't try to contact you or even let you know. You tilted your head back against the throne assuming the other one wasn't coming back with food. The quiet foots drew you out of your memories, you looked up to see a woman with a bright orange helmet pointing a rifle at you. You rolled your eyes but then you saw the dull shine of green beskar approaching. Your heart fluttered but you restrained yourself to keep from jumping up.

"How does my milady like the throne?" He said helmeted taking the knee before you, his hand motioning for the woman to lower her blaster, "Does the Queen request a tour?"

"New pet?" you said eyeing the woman with annoyance, she was a little older then you but definitely his type.

"No, my body guard and dear friend."

"You? Need a body guard? Tsk. Fine you may rise," you said with a small smile pulling your feet off the guard, "I am simply known as The Queen," you said offering a small courtesy to the woman, "You are?"

"Fennec Shand."

Boba walked up and took your arm in his, "You didn't answer the question about the throne," he teased.

"Pillows, lots and lots of pillows."

"Why do they call you The Queen?" Fennec asked curiously following several paces behind both of you.

"I am kind yet cruel, authoritative yet yielding, and because of this," you said moving a finger bending her rifle chamber up and then straightening it.

"A force user?" She said looking at her rifle.

"One of her many talents," Boba chipped in, "Quiet the bounty hunter, gave me a run for my credits time to time." 

"And thankfully you decided I was benevolent enough to partner up time to time," you winking holding his helmeted gaze, knowing his perfect brown eyes were staring at you, "but someone's noticeable absence has left me quiet malevolent," the softness in your face faded to an icy glare.

He pulled you closer "It might have escaped My Queens mind that I have been quiet busy."

"Getting wise in your old age," you purred, "thankfully for you it was not a crime that I could not forgive with time," you felt his gloved finger under your chin, his other hand ripping up his helmet just enough to expose his lips.

"Forgive me, My Queen. You should have known I would eventually have set every ship at my disposal to find you and bring you back to me," he said bringing your mouth to his allowing his lips to apologize, "I am sorry," he finally whispered, your name fall silently from his lips like it was the most guarded secret in the world letting his helmet fall back into place.

"So have you given up bounty hunting?" you said looking out the grand windows to the endless sand, "and the code?"

"I'm a simple man making his way through the galaxy," his whisper seemed to echo against the stone, "I'm not ready to give it all up, a man has to remain battle ready until his prime has long since faded and mine has not," he said walking again, "but this is home and where I belong now."

"I've missed you, Boba," you whispered the sentiment betraying your demonstrative cold behavior, "but how dare you say you would not come for me yourself."

"You were never far from my thoughts," he said squeezing your hand, the leather's warm embrace made you smile, "but I did have obligations here to attend to first"

You pouted, annoyed but understanding what little you knew of him now coming to rule clearing it of the spice trade and other criminal notions. "No massive fire pits?" You purred, "I'm almost disappointed however I do feel the rancor your bonded too, it almost makes up for it," you said letting your free hand trail up his arm touching the cool beskar.

"I have yet to renovate since moving in, hopefully I can have more of your input if you stay maybe a fire pit or two for old times sake although I don't think there are many enemies left to char."

"There are always enemies in the shadows, you know that well. But we'll see I am quiet the busy Queen places to see, people to kill, credits to collect."

"A Queen whose only ever been ruled by me," he whispered leaning towards your ear, "or do you need a reminder My Queen?"

"You have Mos Espa yours to rule now instead," you hissed back but he knew you liked it, Boba always knew when something suggestive landed but he would never tell you what the tell was.

You watched him give Fennec a small dismissive nod to Fennc, she offered a small bow to us before leaving. Boba grabbed your arm tighter guiding you in a new direction. The smell of a kitchen tickled your noses. The dining room was grand lined with empty tables and chairs with an ornate engraved table designed for four at the very back overlook everyone.

"A feast tonight in your honor?" He asked.

"Showing your beautiful guest off to your subjects? How bold."

"No one would dare try to steal you from me," his gloved finger traced down your cheek towards the back of your neck, grabbing it, "I'll make sure of it."

A heart beat fluttered in your lower extremities pulling with excitement over such a delicious threat. You couldn't see into the visor but you knew by heart where his eyes were and you stared at the positions where they were wishing you could see the look on his face and the intensity, "What if I wanted them to dare as punishment to you."

Boba sighed knowing he wasn't going to win this. He knew you were hurting because he hadn't sent for you or tried to reach out while both of you were never spouses before due the nature of the job there was always a spark and undeniable tension both of you tended to give into after a bounty but now time had gone by and he had never bothered to speak his heart. Boba could sense the sand in the hourglass trickling, you coming and teasing him back after all this time was a silent offer of chance to atone and amend his mistake. "If that is what The Queen deems a suitable punishment so shall it be," he said cautiously removing his hand from your neck and tilting his head forward in offering, "A suitable punishment for this fool of a man for losing so many glorious opportunities to enjoy time with such a lovely creature such as yourself."

"My thoughts exactly," you said resting your forehead against the cool metal of his beskar. It made your heart flutter at the sentiment and meaning of it, he gave your forehead a little tap with his and a smile broke out across your face, "Going soft on me?"

"Never," he replied taking a few more deep breaths before pulling back, taking your arm and guiding you in another direct, "I assume you have plenty of sinfully tasteful fitting dresses with your luggage or do you want to see how Mos Espa looks on you?" he stopping at a crossroads in the hall.

"I had one especially made before coming in case I needed to get your attention " you teased, "I can't think of a better time to test in."

"How wicked" you heard the smile in his voice finally picking a direction a direction "You've never needed anything to get my attention Mesh'la," he added, "Do I get to see it before the feast?"

"What would be the fun in that?" You laughed.

"It must be some dress then."

"You have no idea my dear Daimyo."

Boba guided you back to his two main guards, listening your muffled giggle at the one you used as a foot rest. The sound of it reminded him of another time another Boba. "Go with them, they'll carry your luggage back for you and provide a room for you. I'll get the word out about today," Boba said with a small bow dismissing himself not waiting for a response. His mind was exceptionally sharp but it was clouded when you were around and he desperately needed some fresh air. When he reached the throne room dias he disappeared behind a small door to a balcony that oversaw the city below still semi shrouded from view.

"Lover?" he heard Fennec ask behind him.

"A life time ago, yes."

"Don't let her distract-"

"I always trust your wisdom, my dear friend but I don't think she's here to distract me. It seems she's here to see if the spark is still there or if it's time to move on."

"Is it?" she asked.

"I hope so. Invite everyone for a feast tonight. Get the best cooks and musicians, please."

"Please? I like her already," Fennec chuckled starting to make a mental list and those to contact some help for such a last moment event, "Why haven't you taken your Helmet off? I haven't seen you wear it so long."

"I've gotten old and forgotten what it means to wear it. Not sure if I'm ready for her to see that."

"So you do have doubts?" Fennec smiled.

"I haven't lived this long without being prepared."

Fennec nodded, Smart Man, she must be one hell of a Bounty Hunter to put him on edge like this. Fennec excuses to herself to start making preparations for the eventing contacting the Mods to help her spread the word.

You watched the guards pick up the two very heavy trunks and fling them over their shoulders with ease. Smiling you closed the ship after wondering around it once more and followed after them. You took in the sights on the way back, the sand, the people, the peace. You remembered what this place was like, the fear and iron fist but now it seemed people were actually happy and living life. While the sand was not something you cared for you, it could be home or at least a place to dwell between bounties. Your mind trailed back to Boba, the roughness of his voice and how different it was from when you last heard it, it made you wonder what had happened to him in the time apart.

The guards took you to a room past the Daimyo's at the end of the hall, the room was luxurious dripping in finery. They put the trunks at the end of the bed and left you to explore in silence. Their was a beautiful vanity lined with fragrances from through out the galaxy. Then you saw it the small fragrance box in the back unopened, no dust clung to and it was obviously new. You sliced the cover with your nail and opened it, revealing a translucent blue bottle labeled The Queen, you smiled at the limited edition perfume knowing you were really on his mind. You opened the balcony to look at the city below, your hands trialed the railing the cold metal reminding you of him.

You tapped the back of your knuckles on the railing frustrated. Should I have even came? There's plenty of other bounties hunters would would be worth the time of day, several of which are Mandalorians or equally rough around the edges. Boba's obviously retired, could I? Your mind trialed to the stacks of your stashed credits, the adrenaline running through your veins and the electricity dancing throughout your nervous system on a bounty, the reeling feeling of being alive and then back to him. You groaned pulling yourself away from the railing, sensing the approaching person coming to your door. You opened it before they had time to knock, finding Fennec standing in the door way.

"Ms. Shand, how can I be of assistance? Someone you need to talk?" you smiled.

"No, I came to escort you to the Daimyo bathing room if you wish to use something a little more luxurious then your own."

"Let me grab something to slip into for the time being," you said turning and rummaging through the trunk to find the floor length black slip at the bottom, "How many hours until the feast?" you asked curiously.

"Three."

Short and simple, "How is he...? Really I mean," letting your voice dropped to a hush tone.

"He's a better man."

"Thank you for watching over him," your voice dropped even lower.

"That's what family does," she said pushing open the large door revealing a steamy chamber with several bathing soaps and assorted towels, "Enjoy, I'll leave you to it. You can go back to your room when ever your done."

You walked inside pulling the door shut behind you, admiring the long tub with steam rolling off of it. You dressed down and submerged yourself in, the heat engulfing you in a warm embrace. You dunked your head back and let the warmth touch your scalp.

"Little one," you heard the smirk in the tone echo in the chamber.

You looked around not seeing anyone but you felt his presence nearby, "Can I help you?" you asked innocently running your fingers through your hair.

"Can I come in?"

"I'm not going to stop you," you said sinking yourself further down into the tub.

Your eyes caught sight of a small door opening, assumingely connected to Boba's room. He was still armored but he strode in and took a seat next to the bath.

He watched you sink even lower into the bath, "I don't remember modesty being one of your strong suits."

"I don't remember being an observing prude being one of yours either," you snickered back lathering your hair, "nor one for wearing so much black," your eyes danced around his body back up to his helmet, "or secrecy."

Boba sat slightly watching you lather and wash your hair, "Stand," he said once you were done.

"What if I don't want too," you teased, standing just enough to were the water still covered your nipples distorting them. His silence maddening not taking the bait, you moved the the side of the tub he was sitting on, pressing your against the wall and standing so nothing was visible. You noticed the small adjustment he made while sitting knowing it was getting to him. You let your arms go up to your head and squeezed some of the water out of your head letting the top of you be exposed to him, "Satisfied?" you asked lowering your arms covering yourself again.

"Come here, My Queen," his voice was husky with lust, motioning you forward with a finger.

You painfully took the stairs out of the tub one by one so he could trace your body with his eyes. You could feel his gaze shifting the impression leaving warm spots up your body. You stood in front of him crossing your arms under your breast to prop them up, "You are interrupting my bath," you said simply.

"I could give you a reason to get back in," he said suggestively placing a gloved hand on your waist noticing the small goosebumps appear.

"I don't think that is the point of the punishment," you said turning letting your back and ass be in view.

"I didn't say I would get pleasure from it," he smiled.

"If it would hold you over until after the feast," you relented smiling down at him, "One wouldn't hurt."

"Of course, My Queen," he said pulling you down on your knees before him.

You could already feel your slick starting to coat you and he wasn't even touching you yet. He leaned down putting his helmet in your face letting two fingers trial up your side to your breast and pulled gently on the physical reaction it caused. You let out a small pleasurable hiss at the feel of the semi rough leather, he quickly stuck one finger in your moan to silence you as he brought his free hand back to your breast. You let your tongue stroke the leather teasingly, you opened your mouth wide letting his finger escape visibly coated with drool. You heard a small groan escape him and his legs shift again. You smiled wiping the little bit of left over drool off from your lip.

You watched him lean forward more dropping his hand between your legs circling your clit. Your slick coating the rough leather. You heard his breathing hitch and a small growl escape him. He cautiously  twirled one gloved finger around your entrance gently pushing it in.

"Fuck," you moaned as the leather breached you.

"You are so tight," he groaned shoving it further into you, "So tight."

"Boba," the filthy moan escaped your lips, he shoved his finger further up without restraint to the spongy button stroking faster.

His finger stretched you as it curled into you, "My Queen," his voice was huskier, lust was taking over and he was doing his best to restrain his need. 

You started grinding into his finger clenching around it with every movement. You gasped as he  inserted another finger stretching you out further, "Bobaa," you said fucking yourself harder with them bringing your hand to your hair  and the other hand to his arm.

"Careful My Queen, I only have so much self restraint," he said being rougher, his other hand holding his cock to keep it from stroking itself in his flight suit. He desperately wanted to take it out and stroke himself.

You stood, his fingers popping out without warning causing you to shutter but you shoved him back in the chair and undid the pants of his flight suit, "Boba, now," you pleaded watching his mass spring up, the tip coated in precum more pulsating out at the command.

"What about my punishment?" He said shakily watching some of your slick fall on your thigh. 

"You don't want me?" You teased exposing your thigh to him but forcibly shoving his cock back in his suit and zipping it up, "I'm going to bathe, your excused," you said turning back to the bath and taking a step off the ledge into the water, wiping your thigh off.

You heard his breathing quicken, "Yes, Milady," he panted standing up.

"Next time just give me your cock, or I might be tempted to get my fill else where," you threatened not looking at him.

"I'll kill him. Slowly," you heard the anger break in Boba's voices, you smiled knowing he was going to think of you ever moment until tonight. 

The moment Boba reached his room he walked into the refresher gripped the counter trying not to relieve himself. He was so turned on and ravenous didn't notice your footsteps sneaking up on him until you did his flight suit again. You pulled him around and put the engorged member between your thighs holding it in place.

"It was almost just as fun watching you punish yourself," you purred, letting your hands move to the green chest plate, "but I really really want you right now. I won't asked again."

Boba picked you up like you were weightless and plunged his cock into you, "Fuck, Boba ," you screamed, as he started plowing it into you. He was forcibly stretching you out around him, his fingers dug into your hips the tightness nearly making him cum right there.

He was relentless and didn't stop as he put you on the bed, "My Queen," he moaned. The heat of being in his armor was bugging him, he quickly undid it tossing it to the ground. Your fingers went to his helmet, "It stays on," he growled being rougher cause your hands to move away.

Your fingers moved to his body, the muscles were quite was defined but you could feel he was definitely stronger. His cock was threatening to split you in two with every thrust. The heat of you engulfing every carnal urge within him turning them up. Boba felt you start shaking under him, "I've missed you" he groaned being rougher grabbing your legs and splitting them further his fingers digging into your ankles feeling you tighten around him, "You're so beautiful," he added staring down your beautiful face.

You felt his cock starting to twitch, you wrapped your legs around his ass pulling him closer and putting your hands around his neck, "Fill me, Boba. Please," you let your thumb trial up under his helmet to his jaw rubbing it matching his strokes. His arms shot down to catch himself, both of them placed on either side of your neck. Your felt him start shaking inside you, you let out cries of his name. Boba's never fucked you this hard, every thrust spearing you like it was the last. Your toes curls and your fingers dug into him harder piercing skin. You make the mistake of looking down watching his cock slide in and out of you, "Maker," the visual sent you over the edge. The pleasure coursing through you making every limb twitch but heavy. Your cunt quickly violently tightening around him when you felt him finally spill his warm release into you, his name falling from his lips like a prayer. You clenched again feeling some of its vast amount spill out.

He groaned the movement causing his sensitive cock to release what little was left in him, "Mesh'la," moving one of his hands gently to your embracing face. He kept himself situated between your legs and his cock slowly softening, massaging your twitching muscles, "Did I hurt you?" he asked tenderly.

"Boba Fett, the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy worried about hurting someone?" You cooed, your heart still shaking and your high finally coming down.

"Only you milady," he said slowly trying to pull himself in but felt your heels dig into his ass and pull him back in.

"Done already?" you teased.

"I'm not as young as I use to be," Boba said leaning his helmet on your forehead.

"Just leave in me for as long as possible," you said pulling your hands from his face and resting them on his neck, "Why won't you let me take it off?" You whined.

He tipped it up and kissed you, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and lathering your neck in soft kisses before putting the helmet back on, "Believe it or not but self consciousness. After the feast, you can take it off."

You wiggled your hips a little bit cause him to growl, "Fine, but come down here I'm cold."

Boba tucked his arms at your sides laying his head on your shoulder and his body on your chest covering you with his own heat. He could feel himself hardening again, he stiffened a small groan knowing you felt it too.

"Leave it," you said stroking his back feeling the muscle.

"Trying to have my heir?" he chuckled.

"In your dreams Fett," you laughed back.

"I'm in my dreams" he leered slightly thrusting in.

"I would have to be way fuller to even consider it, old man," you teased.

Boba's cock twitched eagerly, "That an offer? Maybe I'm not as old as I thought"

"Maybe after the feast and you've endured my torment," you teased, "besides it would be my heir," you tsked at him.

"An heir for each of us?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Hmm, I'll have to think about it," you said trailing on finger up his spine feeling him tense again, "Perhaps-"

Fennec knocked on the door knowing better then to open giving the noises coming from it a little bit ago, "One hour." She quickly turned away grinning hoping his mood would be improved.

"Rain check," Boba said finally allowed to pull out staring at his seed oozing out of you, "Me'copaani ba'jurir ti ni?" his mandalorian was rusty but it still rolled off his tongue.

"I said after the feast," you said with a giggle watching him twitch, "Maybe you could make up my mind," you teased spending your legs further for him, tempting him.

Boba shook his head scolding himself, "After the feast," but the roughness in his voice told you it worked. He handed you a towel. He watched you hold yourself above it watching it dripped out. He groaned but grabbed his discarded clothing and walked into the bath room his self control slipping.

You followed after him with your clothing laughing and you still managed to beat him into the water, "You're going to close your control when you see the dress, might as well lose it now," you winked it him beckoning him into the water.

"I am a disciplined warrior, I have perfect control."

"And how many times did you take me while flying because you couldn't wait?"

"Get clean," he said lathering you in wash and than himself.

You rolled your eyes and finished leaving him in the bath by himself, "Send for me when your ready for your torment."

Boba watched you leave before taking off his helmet to washing his face and neck. You wrapped your hair up to finish drying while you opened the trunk to pull out the dress, your hands felt the silky fabric perfectly matching the red shade on this helmet fading to the green of his helmet and chest plate, cut to perfectly put everything on display and two side slits going all the way down to put your body on display. You smile pulling the open backed gown on and releasing your hair. Let's see how long he can keep his hands off me or see me with another man. You went to the vanity and looked at the new one smiling, you gave yourself several sprays of it. You were almost finished getting ready when a soft tap came at the door, "Enter."

Fennec walked in with the corner of her lip pulling into a smile, "A statement?" she offered.

"A question," you smiled, "hopefully one he'll finally answer."

"We're ready," she said.

You slipped your shoes on and quickly followed after her and the music. When you both entered the dining room it fell silent except for the music, all eyes on both of you. Fennec escorted you up where Boba and two empty places were. Both when both of you took your places the chatter started back up again. You side eyed Boba who didn't even turn and look. Maybe I should have done green to red then. Then you noticed Fennec eyeing him. So I did get under his skin.

You watched the Daimyo stand up and have it fall silent again, "I welcome you all to eat, dance and live. This feast is in our a dear friend, The Queen, who came to visit. Let's show her how Mos Espa now flourishes, free of war, spice and tyranny," he said raising a glass, sipping it and back down. He saw the few men eyeing you and was doing his best to quell his anger. Boba saw one eyeing you and you giving him the quick flash of a wave. So my punishment has started... Is that my perfume? He tighten his jaw, the dress was the perfect allusion to him yet perfectly opposite of his scheme. To him it signified you as his and as he equals, along with the perfume being another jab at the thought of seeing you with anyone else.

You saw Boba's free hand ball into a fist and his gloves tight against his knuckles, knowing your legs were covered by the table cloth you run you your foot up his leg with a smile between delicious bites. Everything about the feast was delicate yet stood out by its own, no two dishes tasted alike and every drink offered was vastly different. The desserts was one of kind. Maybe I would stay here just for this. You eyed the man heading to the dancing area, alone. You wiped your lips and excused yourself falling after him.

"Not eating?" Fennec said looking at the dessert, "I would have assumed you worked up at appetite earlier," she added scooping up a piece.

"Just waiting for her to be gone," he admitted tipping his helmet up and eating finally.

"She's really having an effect on you," Fennec said watching.

"We all have that one personal bounty that got away. She is a huntress personified."

"Why did you wait so long?"

"I assumed she moved on and I am a relic of the past."

"Boba for being the smartest people I've ever met... you sure are always the stupidest when it comes to the heart," Fennec said putting down the spoon full of dessert spotting her dancing with some guy, "A woman like that doesn't move on. Why are you dealing with this punishment," she said with a small chuckle.

"Ever defy a Queen before?" He growled, "I'd disintegrate him just for touching her, but I'm assuming this is her way of testing me and her way of asking me what I've been doing with others since."

"Have you?" Fennec asked raising an eyebrow.

"No," that was the question that unscrewed the final bolt. Boba tipped his helmet back down and wondered down the floor towards you.

The man spun you around, it was a silence dance.  It seemed almost like he was on autopilot. Then you noticed the man eyeing him in the corner, it was the look of a lover pinning. OH, you giggled and grabbed his hand dragging him towards the balcony.

"Did I make your boyfriend made?" You asked jumping up swinging your legs over the rails and sitting down.

"You know?" He asked confused.

"I am The Queen, there's little that escapes my eye. How are you enjoying the changes to Mos Espa?"

Boba found both of you outside, he leaned against the shadows in the door way listening. His temper calming after the admitted statement noticing the lover too also watching and listening. Boba smiled.

"The new Daimyo is a kind and stern man, he yields his influence only in the most respectful ways," the man said leaning against against the railing.

"Has the Daimyo ever shown interest in... any woman?" you asked cautiously.

"No, he spends all of his time making the town better or helping friends."

"Would you consider him a good man then?"

"Unlike anything this town has ever seen before. War broke out here, even when it looked like certain defeat he did not back down trying to protect this town. No other would have done that."

"Maybe I don't need to punish him as much as I thought," you said looking at your nails before taking in the city again, "Loyalty is the way, without a clan you are empty," you muttered, "You may go, have fun," you said looking at the city.

Boba stepped out the shadows and put his arms around your waist, “What was suppose to be the punishment?”

“The punishment would have came if you didn’t come after me,” you purred rubbing his arm, “you never disappoint.”

Boba lifted your legs and spun you around on the railing, putting himself between your legs, “Don’t get any ideas little one, we have company,” watching your hands wander to his abs, “as much as I want you and for you to be off limits.”

“So I’m not yours nor off limits? Good to know,” you said disappointed, “I guess I will be on my way then,” you said your heart starting to aching, you tried standing but he pushed you back down on the railing

Boba growled pulled away, walking over to the blinds and pulling them down and shutting the door. He ferociously pulled up your dress and rutted himself against you his cock desperately wanted to be released from his flight suit and cod piece, removed the piece and unzipped his flight suit moving your soaked underwear to the side and piercing your warm harshly making you moan his name.

“Mine,” he growled, thrusting, “My Queen,” he added thrusting again.

“Boba… Do you want me… ahh to stay,” you panted trying to be quiet.

He thrust again stopping for a moment, “You don’t have to give up Bounty Hunting for now,” he said gently running his hand over your stomach, “I’d prefer if you stayed here with me.”

“Boba, do you lo-“

“Yes.”

You smiled taking off one of his gloves, “You should have told me.”

“I know,” he admitted sourly.

“Now, get back to work,” you winked putting the glove in your mouth, both of you knowing damn well the music was to loud.

“Yes, My Queen,” he said holding your face rutting into you.

Your head went back, his cock clinging to your walls splitting you with every stroke. “Maker,” you moaned muffled by the glove and you could feel him twitch.

“Do you want me to cum into you,” he said wiping your cheek with his thumb, slowing down for a moment, “or I could use that pretty mouth,” you heard the smile on his voice.

You wrapped your leg around him shoving him further into you feeling more of your slick coat him, “Little one likes her filling,” he groaned picking the speed back up. The base of his cock was violently rubbing your clit engorging it with desire, “Don’t worry I’ll take care of my mess,” he said looking down at the union. He buried his other hand into the flesh of your ass using it to stabilize himself as he spilled into you. He clenched his jaw holding back the noise his throat was trying to maybe, he continued to pump himself until he felt like everything was out. He pulled himself out tucking himself back in. He let two fingers glide in and felt you arch forward, he pulled the glove off leaving it inside. Bringing his rough calloused hand to your throbbing clit, stroking it gently. Your thighs closed around his hand, he ripped them open using one leg to hold on side open and brought his other hand to your legs shoving it open, “I’m not done yet.” He worked your lips between his fingers putting his thumb on the sensitive tip.

You wildly started moaning as he worked you with his fingers and you could barely breath, your legs kept trying to clench shut and your cunt was clenched tight enough that it was trying to push out the glove. He shoved it back in “push out my load and you’ll be the one getting punished.” You moaned again at the comment. He said stroking faster setting your body on fire, every inch bouncing electricity limp to limp numbing every other sensation, “That’s it, cum for me.” Your face started burning at the command and roughness in his tone. He removed his hand from your leg and brought it to the back of your neck. You could’t stand it anymore you flipped up a finger causing his helmet to come off. You stared into half lidded dilated eyes, you pulled the glove out of your mouth grabbing him and kissing him letting his mouth muffle your orgasm.

“I almost forgot how handsome you were under there,” you breathed putting your arms around his neck, pulling him back to your mouth. You pulled back tracing the small scar across his face, “Am in trouble aren’t I,” you smiled.

He smiled pushing the glove in more pulling away and closing your legs picking you up, kneeling to pick up his helmet and opening the door guiding you back inside, “I’m going to enjoy filling you until it spills,” he smirked, “won’t mind a princess or two if they as strong as you.”

“Or as loyal as you.”

The rest of the towards Boba’s room was silent he gently set you on the bed pulling up your dress and pulling out the glove with a delish little liquid popping noise and tossing it to the ground. He stripped himself of everything but stopped at his vambrace pulling out the grappling line before discarding it to the ground, “I didn’t teach you everything,” he smiled grabbing your hands putting the line around them, “Now I’m going to spend the rest of night reminding you who’s really in charge here.”

[convexicalcrow]

The first thing to hit Cub was a terrible headache. Last thing he remembered was... Actually, he couldn't remember. There had been endless desert for what felt like weeks. Months, perhaps. Too long. He felt a soft voice on the edge of his mind, but couldn't decipher the words. Everything felt heavy. His body was stiff, unwilling to move.

-

Someone was holding his hand. He could feel the soft way their fingers were brushing his skin. There was. A strange silence around him. Perhaps he breathed.

"Scar?"

Cub wasn't sure he'd spoken; his throat felt dry and raw, like he hadn't had anything to drink for weeks. Had he even spoken, or was his voice simply in his mind?

"Your friend is safe, as are you. You are amongst friends."

The reply came from an unfamiliar voice, but he understood the words, so he was clearly amongst his own people. An adult was speaking, he could tell by the way he spoke. Perhaps he'd gone home at last. Maybe that's what had happened.

"Home?" Cub asked hopefully.

"No, this is not Tawy. But it is still home," the voice said. "Here, drink, you are very lucky to be alive."

Cub opened his eyes as a hand cupped the back of his head gently, lifting him up into a slight sitting position as a bowl was pressed to his lips. "Healing?"

"Healing," the man said.

"Healing," Cub said, and drank the potion.

-

The room he was in was like a dark cave, now that he could look around it. Soft, low lighting, and a warm fire that was tended to by healers. Cub was still lying down, but he'd seen Scar lying beside him and that had allayed all his fears. As long as he had Scar, he was fine. Jellie, too, was fine, having curled up beside Scar and not moved save to take some small scraps of meat for food.

The ceiling, as much as you could call it that, was painted with white spots like stars. He'd counted them all by now. There were one thousand, seven hundred, and fifty eight of them. He hadn't been told much about where he was, just that he was safe. He suspected they were being taken care of here until they were well enough to take in more information.

Certainly, some of the people he'd seen were not Tamari. They wore strange clothes, spoke in strange languages. Perhaps they were Tjehenu tribes. Though why Tjehenu were sheltering Tamari, Cub didn't know. It all felt too strange to him.

-

"I keep thinking about them. I keep seeing them as I stare at the stars up there," Cub murmured, lying close to Scar as they tried to sleep.

"Well, that's fair. That's where they're meant to be, right? They live in the sky?" Scar said.

"Do you think so? I hope they're up there. Sometimes I dream that they're lost in the Lake of Fire, and all I can hear are their screams," Cub said.

Scar brought him into his arms. "No, that's just bad dreams. Don't think on it, okay? It means nothing."

"Really? I heard that's like, a sign of bad things, though. From the dream books," Cub said.

"It can be, sure. But I think you two have just been through a lot, and perhaps that's just coming through in your dreams."

Cub and Scar sat up to see one of the Tameri healers come and sit beside them. They'd learned his name was Ahmose. "You think so?"

Ahmose nodded. "We know about the war. We escaped it too. It has taken a toll on all of us. I can't imagine what it does to the mind of a child."

Cub clung to Scar, fighting back his emotions. No. He wouldn't fall apart. No. He wouldn't cry. He was strong! Like his father!

"We have been wandering for maybe a year, all alone. It's not been easy," Scar said quietly. "His father told me to leave, to take him with me and get out of Tawy."

"I think you two need to stay with us for a while. We can give you a home here. Will it be the same kind of home as Tawy? No. But while we live, the Netjeru still live. You are here because you still live," Ahmose said.

"Did the camel make it, by the way?" Scar said.

"Safe and sound, and very well fed now. All your possessions have been kept safe. They will be returned to you when you have recovered," Ahmose said.

"Thank you. That camel is the reason we are alive," Scar said.

"I had gathered that. The women hunters here found you and your camel and brought you here. The desert has spared you," Ahmose said.

"Thank you," Cub said, turning to look at him. He still felt a huge weight in his chest, but the grief had subsided with Scar's touch. Perhaps one day he'll open that wound, but not today, not today.

[jays-bonnie-on-the-side]

𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕

PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character

STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist

CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. lust. flirting. pining. overprotective dean. angel possessed sam. vulnerable ofc.

A/N : thank you to all who follow along with this story, your patience and support means so much. hope you enjoy 💛

Maricela’s POV

"Sam!" Dean shouts from the Command Room. His voice echoed down the hallway, reaching me before I entered the room. "You here?"

"Damn, did you forget about me already?" I quip.

With a coffee cup in hand, Dean turned and fixed his gaze on me. The sheer temptation of running my fingers through his immaculate hair was almost too powerful to withstand. His black t-shirt and matching boxers peeked behind the long, gray robe with the embroidered red initials 'T.E.P.,' on its chest pocket. It opened just enough to display his perfectly imperfect bowed legs. I bite my cheek, imagining myself walking over to Dean, knocking the cup from his hand before jumping to staddle his body, then pulling his face towards mine so our lips lock in a fervent kiss. My heart beats faster as I fantasize about him returning the passion, carrying me towards the Map Table to sit me on the edge before sliding his hands underneath my shirt as I run my fingers through his hair and down to his—

"Nice robe," I lace my compliment with sarcasm, attempting to distract myself before my thoughts go from PG-13 to Rated R.

"Nice hair."

My locks had tangled after a night's rest, resembling my bed head to a lion's mane. Other than flattening it with my bare hands, I didn't bother to run a brush through my hair, knowing it would only double the size it was now. My eyes roll at his remark as I cross my arms over my unsupported chest. The loose-fitted shirt concealed my small breasts, ones that never seemed to draw Dean's attention. The door above us opens and in walks Sam.

"Hey. Morning," he greets.

Dean checks his watch as Sam comes down the stairs. "You been outside already?"

"Yeah. Woke up, went for a run. Beautiful sunrise," Dean and I stared at the energetic man as he explained his early start. "Anyways, cleaned up. Went and got breakfast. Grabbed you guys real bacon and eggs, extra grease. Not even gonna argue."

"Mm, perfect." I hummed as we sat at the Map Table.

Dean passes a to-go box and plastic utensil my way. I open the container, and once the smell hits my nose, my stomach rumbles. Sam pulls a bag from his jacket pocket and tosses it beside my food. A smile lights up my tired face. Sam remembered to ask for ketchup packets, knowing I wouldn't eat my eggs without the condiment. He folds his jacket before setting it on the table as Dean questions him.

"Wait. You went running?"

"What? Why do you look so worried?"

"Let's see. There's Cas, who I told to haul ass here. That was days ago. He's still out there. Um, there's you."

"Me?" Sam scoffs. "I feel great."

"I'm sure you do, but Sam, you went through the trials. Okay, that put a big strain on you. I just think it's better if you took it easy, you know, and didn't act like you were—"

Sam straightens his posture, his eyes glowing before interrupting Dean, finishing with, "Possessed by an angel."

The eldest Winchester and I stare at Sam—or rather Ezekiel—taken aback by the sudden change.

"And he does feel better. A work in progress, of course, but I am slowly healing him." The angel assures us.

I put my fork down, adding, "That's great. Um, but—"

"I have news. I've picked up chatter among the angels. Not all are wandering around in confusion."

"Yeah, some of 'em are after Cas," Dean states.

"There is a faction that is rapidly organizing and finding human vessels to contain them."

"Led by Naomi?"

"I have not heard that name, no. But it is this faction's leadership who want Castiel found. You see, Dean, I can be useful."

"So can my brother. So, why don't you go check your e-mail, and if I need your help, I'll let you know."

"Dean," Zeke tries before the hunter repeats himself.

"I said I'll let you know."

As told, the angel goes back into hibernation. His eyes glow before Sam continues where he left off.

"I mean, you know, Cas is human now. It's gonna take him a lot longer to travel."

"I'm gonna get whiplash," I mumble to myself, prompting Sam to question my comment. "Nothing."

Dean clears his throat before directing the attention away from me. "Um, all right, so I was thinking that if the angels are organizing, then that makes them a lot more dangerous than we thought."

Yet, he only makes it worse.

"Why do you think they're organizing?" Sam asks, confused at the sudden, out-of-the-blue, and newfound information.

Dean stares at this brother, realizing his mistake. He hesitates, attempting to come up with a plausible explanation for the intel provided by Ezekiel just moments before.

"It makes sense," I add before biting into my bacon.

"My point is, is that the more of them that are after Cas, the worse it is, so... we got to find him." Dean finishes.

Sam nods. "I'll grab my laptop."

After breakfast, we agreed to meet in the library. Dean stood next to Sam, focused on the project before him. His attention quickly shifts as I walk in. The man's eyes scanned me from head to toe before a smirk emerged on his face. My stomach dropped, not sure whether to be insecure or elated underneath his intense gaze.

"What?" I ask, halting beside him.

"I didn't think you'd be able to tame all that hair," Dean gestures to my double-Dutch braids. "It's surprising, really."

"Shut up!" I playfully shove his torso, failing to stifle my laughter.

His flawless smile makes its limited appearance as he laughs. I shook my head as our laughter began to die, hoping to keep the blush at bay. My eyes wander past Dean and over to Sam. He wears a knowing smile, eyes flickering between his brother and me. The blush I was trying to avoid slowly rises to my cheeks, and Sam is to blame.

I tear my gaze from the Winchesters and focus on the map that's spread across the table. Three red circles, each bigger than the last, were drawn over The Centennial State. Dean traced my stare back to the map before leaning over it.

"All right, so this is where Cas called from on Tuesday—Longmont, Colorado." He began, explaining the map's context. With the tip of a closed, black Sharpie, he traces each ring for emphasis. "Each circle is how far he might have gotten in one, two, and three days out."

"Okay. Here we go," said Sam, capturing our attention. We hover over his shoulder, seeing that he hacked into the city’s police database. "The same day he called from Longmont, weird murder, same town. Cops said it was like the girl was blasted from the inside out."

"Angel kill," Dean recognized their signature killing style. "They might have just missed Cas."

"Unless they got him," I mutter.

For a moment, it was silent as we feared the worst. Sam returned to his laptop and clicked the attached news article to the report. The caption read 'TWO PRIESTS FOUND OUTSIDE ST. ANNE'S CATHEDRAL IN GRISLY MURDER.'

"You got an Emory Park, Iowa?" Sam asks his brother.

"Emory Park, Emory Park. I just saw that." Dean runs his finger along the map, searching for the town. "Yeah, a couple days outside of Longmont."

"Okay, because two priests were murdered there Thursday. Eyes blown out, evidence of torture. They were impaled on posts."

"Torture?" Dean asks aloud, resulting in Sam to assure he heard correctly.

"Angels are looking for info," I say, piecing the puzzle together.

"Man, if they get to him before we do..." Dean trails off. Sam and I reply with a 'yeah,' understanding what Dean didn't finish.

*Longmont, Colorado*

We arrived at St. Anne's Cathedral by four p.m. I exited the backseat of the Impala once Dean parked the car, not bothering to wait for whoever decided to tag along. Just as I was about to walk towards the Cathedral, a group of groundskeepers caught my eye. They gardened beside the church and near the cemetery. I cursed to myself, knowing my high heels would surely sink into the ground.

Dean stops beside me and glances in the direction I was looking at. I voice, "I think we should start with them."

"Lead the way."

His words manipulated my lips into a smile. For the first time, Dean allowed me to take the lead. No second-guessing, no doubting, no arguing. Just trust. And with that, I began my journey along the patchy grass and uneven stone walkway leading into the garden.

As we walked down the path, I spotted a man in a brown suede jacket unlocking the gated graveyard. He pulled the gates open, watching as we approached. Dean and I flash our FBI badges, introducing ourselves. Without any pushback, we asked if he recognized Castiel based on his physical description. The stranger pondered silently before entering the cemetery with us following behind.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I know this guy you're talking about," He said, taking his white and blue gardening gloves off. "Sounds like Clarence."

"Clarence?" Dean and I ask in unison.

He nods, explaining, "The church—it runs a shelter in town, and we work here. We earn our keep. Clarence spent a couple nights and then had to move on."

"And he left the day the bodies were found?" The hunter in disguise questions.

"Matter of fact… Oh, man, those poor guys were a mess. They must have suffered bad." The man spoke with despondency before cheering up. "But at least now they're with the angels."

Dean averted his eyes towards the ground before muttering, "I sure as hell hope not."

I nudged his arm as the stranger's face fell upon hearing Dean's remark.

"Clarence happen to mention where he was headed?" I ask, getting back on topic.

"No. He just said he always had to keep going."

We thanked the helpful individual before Dean began to head back to the car. I reach into my purse and pull out $40, handing it to the man who stood before me. His eyes widen before shaking his head, denying the gift. My hand reaches out again as I take a step closer.

"Please, take it. I know it isn't much, but I appreciate your help. Take it."

He hesitates but takes the twenties from my outstretched arm. Uttering his thanks, the man offers a small smile as a gesture of gratitude. I smile back and turn to leave. My eyes find Dean standing just beyond the cemetery gates, watching and waiting for me. I walk with my head down, avoiding the hunter's eyes while trying to maintain a balance between the grass and widely spaced stones.

"That was nice," said Dean.

"You sound surprised."

"No, I just—it was a nice gesture."

I shrugged, "No big deal."

Silence fell between us. I could feel his hesitation before finally asking, "Why'd you do it?"

My own hesitance to answer the loaded question stopped me in my tracks. The function in my legs returns, and I walk again as if my body didn't just slam on its emergency brakes. Memories flashed across my eyes, reminding me of the tough times I had endured as a child. I could still feel the muggy heat that nearly suffocated me, unable to cool from an air conditioner or box fan from the lack of unpaid electricity bills many Julys ago. My bones can still recount how harsh the winter air had been as we moved all our belongings from our house due to the court-ordered eviction.

"I know what it's like to be in his position, to struggle—to live day to day," I say, my head hung with embarrassment. "I remember standing in line at our local church, just waiting to be handed our share of groceries for the week. My parents had just divorced—they worked hard to provide for us, but sometimes it wasn't enough. They did their best, though. Things got better after a while. We were fortunate enough to bounce back. So, when I see those in similar situations, I don't know—I guess it hits home more than I want it to."

Dean halts once my confession is complete. I shift my gaze from the ground to meet his forest-green eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't know," he murmured.

"I didn't expect you to." I gave the hunter a small smile. "We all have a past. It shapes us into who we are. Right?"

He nods, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

"Thankfully, you won't find mine online. Can't say the same about yours, though." I taunt, my smile growing wider as Dean's face drops.

"You didn't..."

"I haven't had a chance yet. We've been pretty busy."

"How did you find them?" I shrug nonchalantly, feeling the weight of his penetrating gaze on me. My eyes drifted from his narrow, intense stare as he figured out which bird sang. "It was Charlie, wasn't it?"

"What? Charlie—no, no. I don't even remember the last time I talked to her." I lie, hoping to save my friend from an unfortunate phone call.

"Uh huh," Dean grunts, clearly unconvinced.

Finally, the Impala was within eye distance. The urge to kick off my heels and complete the stretch barefoot was strong. Suddenly, as if my heels knew of my desired betrayal, my foot slipped on one of the stepping stones. My other foot quickly moved to support my balance but failed as my heel sunk into the grass. A tiny squeal left my throat, and with my eyes tightly shut, my body began to fall backward.

Adrenaline courses through my veins, my heart quickening as I free fall towards the ground. The last thing I expected was a strong pair of arms saving me from an embarrassing tumble. As if it was possible, my heart races faster. I open my eyes slowly, worried I'd be in the arms of another and not the man I loved. But when I saw his handsome face, a profound sense of relief swept through my body.

Dean leaned over me, his arm encircling my shoulders while the other supported my lower back, his eyes scanning every inch of my countenance. "You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." I breathed out, enarmed by the way he held me so close.

He pulls me back to my feet and grins. "Think you can manage walking back to Baby without breaking your ankles, or do I need to carry you?"

"Shut up." I crouched down to retrieve the heel that had slipped off during my stumble, dislodging it from the grass. "I'd love to see you walk in my shoes—literally."

The Winchester graciously allowed me to lean against his body as I balanced on one heel to put on the other. I try ignoring the thrill of our closeness, but his cologne fills my nose, making my head spin with a longing I’m all too familiar with. His hand resting on my hip distracts my yearning for surprise. I stand tall, and despite the added height that my heels provide, Dean still towers over me. My eyes find his own before his trail to my lips. He wouldn’t… And as I predicted, his hand falls to his side and he takes a step back.

Clearing his throat, he begins, “We should, uh…”

“Yeah,” I nod.

"All right," Dean draws his brother's attention. "Well, he's definitely been here. Good news is he's getting cagey. He's using a fake name—Clarence."

Sam amusingly scoffs, "That's what Meg used to call him. Of course, he doesn't get that's the name of a pretty famous angel."

"What?" asks Dean.

"'It's A Wonderful Life.'" Dean shakes his head, the ends of his mouth frowning, still clueless. "Dude, seriously?"

The younger Winchester looks at me for backup. "Sorry, Sammy, I'm with Dean on this one."

"Typical," he mutters under his breath.

"What'd you come up with?" Dean challenges.

"Another angel kill, outside a town called Lafayette about a day's travel east of here."

"What is that, Indiana?"

"Yeah. Body was found in a homeless camp. Insides barbecued, the whole nine."

"Homeless guy?" I ask as I lean forward and look over Sam's shoulder to read the article he had pulled up.

"No, a pharmacist from Dayton."

"Huh," Dean and I say in unison before he turns the engine to begin our trip East.

*Lafayette, Indiana*

The elevator chimed before opening on the ground floor. The lead detective steps off first, and we follow behind.

"Damnedest thing I ever saw. Vic had a stab wound, but it's not what killed him. It's like his insides were—"

"Vaporized?" Dean finishes. The detective stares at him, stunned that he hit the nail on the head. "It's been going around."

As we approach the door beside the reception desk, an officer buzzes us in. Dean holds open the door for me, and I mumble a small 'thanks' before trying to keep up with the fast men. The investigator leads us into the office space, past other detectives and officers, towards the back.

"So, this guy was a pharmacist from Ohio?" Sam asks.

"Apparently. Total family man, religious. One day, just hops in the S.U.V., takes off, dies under a bridge here from God knows what." The confident man stops near an empty desk, taking the bags of evidence from one to another. "This is his stuff. Help yourselves."

We thank the investigator as he walks around the Winchesters, and before he leaves us, he halts beside me.

"If you need anything, and I mean anything—" The detective emphasizes, a smug smile pulling at his lips while his eyes cascade down my body. "Let me know."

"I'm good." I rolled my eyes at this man's cockiness before stepping between the boys.

Sam picks up a bag of evidence as I grab the other, and we dump its contents onto the desk. I reached for the Bible, seeing if the victim wrote any clues within the margins. Dean scoffs, grabbing Sam's and my attention. He wore a scowl on his face, aiming it towards the detective. Sam and I furrowed our brows in confusion over Dean's sudden sulkiness.

"Can you believe that guy?" The eldest Winchester asks, shaking his head.

"What?" Sam inquiries.

"Did you not hear what he said to her? The man's sick. She's only 19!" Dean whisper-yells over me.

"I'm right here, D."

His eyes cut to me. They were a darker shade than usual. Somehow, it only made him sexier. He narrowed them at me, asking, "And?"

"And, I can handle some guy hitting on me."

"Well, you shouldn't have to. And I won't let it happen, not anymore."

"So what? You plan to cock block me from now on?"

"Yes!" My eyes widen at his quick response. He takes a deep breath, calming himself before saying, “You're too young to be having sex anyway."

"Dean, you started having sex at 16. You're the last person to lecture anyone about having sex too young. Leave her alone." Sam butts in.

Dean rolls his eyes, knowing if he talked anymore on the subject, he'd be a hypocrite. Without another word, he snatches the victim's phone from the desk. He begins to look through it as Sammy and I look at each other and smile in triumph. I flip through the small Bible but find nothing out of the ordinary. As I placed it back on the desk, I couldn't help but wonder why Dean cared so much.

"Anything?" The youngest Winchester asks the oldest as he walks around the desk and sits in the chair.

"Nothing weird," He continues to search while making his conclusions. "Crappy music, a lot of podcasts, all the same one. Reverend Buddy Boyle's 'Goin' For Glory Hour.'"

"Cop said he was religious."

Dean leans toward Sam and plays the video. I walk around the desk and watch with the boys.

"Join me in a heapin' helpin' of glory, friends. When you're in the presence of the divine, you'll know it. And if you let yourself, you'll hear it." The man's Southern accent cuts as Dean impatiently fast-forwards. "So, remember, when angels come a-knocking, let 'em on in."

The video ends. We look at one another, getting the very clear message the preacher was trying to convey.

"Angels can't possess a human without permission, right?" Sam asks.

"Yep." Dean answers, aggravated.

"So, what, they're using this guy to find vessels?"

"It's a willing audience," I point out.

"They're all religious types like our pharmacist here. Buddy Boyle was telling them to let the angels take them over."

"Like body snatchers," says Sam.

"How big a reach does this Boyle guy have?" I ask, prompting Sam to use the computer in front of him.

He clicks on the link: Buddy Boyle's Influence, world wide. It brought us to the Reverend's web page, displaying a world map. Red beacons were scattered across every continent, serving as markers for his loyal followers.

"Pretty much the entire planet," Sam answers.

Our eyes were wide, not expecting such a wide demographic. Without another word, we walk out of the police station.

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[mylevisdontfitanymore]

HELP I can't stop thinking about this fic: https://www.tumblr.com/mylevisdontfitanymore/689619340309446656?source=share and how maybe after Andy has had his fill and is finally done fucking Ransom he spends the rest of the night pumping him full of more alcohol and food and maybe he spends the entire rest of the cruise out of his mind as Andy's drunken plaything, too stuffed and bloated to move far from the bed without lots of help, too drunk to think about anything but his stomach and how much more of everything he wants and always available for Andy to fuck when he pleases

@achubbydumpling Ransom × Andy dark fic, "A Little Extra: Cruise Ship"

I mean… fucking SAME

I remember when Dumpling first wrote and posted that and we had a lengthy conversation about some darker scenarios for that pairing. So, this chaotic, horny drabble will be heavily inspired by that interaction. Thank you for the inspiration Dumpling, as always ❤️

Unbeta'd, warning for dark Ransom × Andy, intox kink, alcohol consumption, mentioned of past non-con/dub-con, free-use, stuffing, weight gain, humiliation/fat shaming, etc.

Andy can’t honestly be blamed for what he does because… have you seen Ransom? That soft, pale skin and pretty, pink mouth with an especially plump bottom lip; those big blue eyes, most often lit with a challenge and dare; his expensive clothes tailored to fit his body. He’s irresistible normally. But, better yet, have you seen Ransom when he’s drunk and messy? Anyone would do anything to have that rich brat when he’s sloshed.

Drunk Ransom and his fat, round belly full of all the alcohol he’s been downing like it’s water. Andy doesn’t even need to encourage him so much, his greedy nature from growing up in the high life does it for Andy. Ransom simply drains bottles and bottles without caring about anything, not the price of the smooth liquor or spectacle of his expanding waistline, his belly bloating right out of his luxurious, perfectly tailored clothes until he’s so full and round - his skin pulled so impressively taut - that he may as well be a walking keg or even a walking, really waddling, barrel. Almost audibly sloshing with too many drinks. It’s a fucking miracle if Andy lets him walk anywhere, though. His slight exhibitionism, his hunger to see the stares of disbelief at such a huge, sloshed brat, is overridden by the possessive fire inside him to keep Ransom.

He wants to keep Ransom full, bloated and packed to the point that he’s stuck on his back, and he wants to keep Ransom to himself. He wants him as a pet. An obedient pet that will do anything he wants, like, for example, drink another bottle and chase the alcohol with soft, pillowy carbs that will drink the liquid inside him and expand further. Andy wants to get him to the point that his stomach is really struggling, creaking and gurgling with how bloated it is.

Here’s the thing, though: Ransom may come off like a bitch and a brat to everyone after being spoiled his entire life but, he metaphorically (and now literally) has the softest underbelly that Andy who, oppositely, appears to be sweet and doting and soft once as the ideal family man but Andy has this very dark side, hidden from most people he encounters. It’s not hidden from Ransom. That dark side is lured out by Ransom. There’s just… something so irresistible about Ransom. Andy can’t stop himself from taking advantage of Ransom. It’s hardly his fault, though, with how much rich boy is asking for it - stumbling around, drinking, and fixing him with those fiery eyes.

Andy has a habit of only having a few drinks here and there, so he barely gets tipsy when he does drink, and this habit works to his advantage now, leaving him with a near completely clear, sober mind to admire this messy, uncoordinated prince… all doughy and spoiled. He’s never done a damn thing besides sit on his ass. (And, fuck yes, would you look at that! He’s got a fucking fat ass. All shapely. Nice and round and wide. Andy wants to sink his teeth into it.) Besides, Ransom’s rich fat. He takes the time to always work lotion into his skin and wax and get massages and, just, otherwise take immaculate care of himself. So, he doesn’t have any stretch marks anywhere on his body. He only has pale, soft, plump, and doughy fat. He’s lush. Smooth. So easy on the eyes and perfect underhand. No stretch marks anywhere on his soft body… not until he meets Andy.

Andy, as we know, can’t resist and he takes advantage of his pale, unmarred body and claims it for himself. Andy fucks him hard and leaves hickies on his puffy tits, thick thighs, and absolute shelf of an ass but, of course, those bitten-in marks don’t hold a candle to the permanent marks Andy makes on Ransom. Andy will have Ransom to himself. He will keep him. And he will claim what’s his by stuffing and bloating Ransom until he’s literally on the cusp of bursting. Funneling alcohol and liquor and spirts and anything that leaves his sweet mouth loose and slurring into him. Stuffing any kind of food down his throat, too. Watching ethusastically as it all stretches his skin so badly, leaving lengthy, obvious, red marks all over his previously spotless body and ruining his body.

Jesus.

Ruining his body. The thought of being the one to ruin Ransom makes Andy feral like nothing else. It feeds into his darkness, making him only want to stuff him worse and ruin him worse and… it goes on and on.

Ransom gets that way, ruined, by being kept as a little pet for Andy. It goes beyond the cruise. Andy snatches Ransom up and just won’t let him go.

At first, when Ransom surfaces from the night after Andy drugged him and used him when he was so full and sloshing he was fucking pissed at Andy. Seeing red. Seething and baring his teeth. But. Also… damn it, he gets it. Through his pounding headache, waking up entirely naked with his legs spread wide and slutty underneath the weight of his desperately full bladder and still bloated stomach, he comes to the conclusion that he knows that he would’ve done the same if presented with such an opportunity. A poor, little thing wandering the ship bloated and wanting to indulge so badly that they’re willing to go to dinner with a stranger, stuffing themselves, helpless as a baby deer under the drugs slipped into their system… Ransom licks his lips.

Yeah.

He’s equally fucked up.

C’mon, he’s rich - if he sees something he wants, he gets it. It’s that way with people, too, not just things. He could see how if he couldn’t charm or bribe his way into someone’s pants as usual, he might just get them drunk enough that they’re easy and pliable to have what he wants from them. It just so happens that when that was used on him, it unlocked his spoiled hedonism and he couldn’t stop pigging out. So…

He doesn’t blame Andy. He can’t stay mad, even if it feels like he’s pulled a fucking muscle with how big he got (and still is), puffed up tight and round on alcohol and sugar. Rich boy has never been sore before. He’s not familiar. He could be though. It’s achy and throbby and… he kind of likes how it feels. It feels like a job well done. He’s pushed himself so much that he’s made himself sore. Damn.

With Ransom not only not pissed but also into it, they develop A Thing.

Specifically, a relationship based on free use and indulgence.

Andy is the one in control and Ransom is the one giving himself over to be stuffed and fucked and filled. Anything Andy wants to do to him. Anyway Andy wants to fill him. Ransom aches and throbs for it, craving the fullness and heaviness now that he’s had it once - chasing the high.

So, Andy keeps Ransom drunk whenever he doesn’t need to be present in reality for his responsibilities. Which are… what exactly? Ransom doesn’t work, not thanks to that multigenerational wealth, so there are not many times he has to be sober for “responsibilities.” He has a whole fucking team of people managing everything about his life (his “babysitters” according to Andy’s mocking laughter), meaning more than anything else, he’s nice and full. Well. Usually, if he’s how Andy wants him he’s painfully full. Sloshy yet packed tight. His stomach made into a water balloon.

And that’s where most of those stretch marks come from.

Poor baby. He gets all marked up so fast! Aw. 🙄

As established, Ransom has lived the high life since he was born, he’s always been fed the best foods and drinks and hasn’t had to work a day in his life, so he’s always been soft. His slowing teenage metabolism has left him puffy. Not quite yet chubby, but certainly on his way with his problem controlling himself and his appetite for, well, everything. But then Andy comes crashing into his life and feeds him and feeds him and feeds him, and Ransom is growing fatter faster than he ever could’ve on his own. Faster than he ever would’ve dared. Ransom is pretty vain. He wanted to stay in shape and “presentable” but he can’t. He can’t help himself. And Andy sure as hell won’t help him. He’ll just pop the cork to another wine bottle and hand it over, making sure to lift the end of the bottle when Ransom tries to stop and catch his breath. He wants him to down the entire thing. Chug it. Now.

Despite all the alcohol that should give Ransom a solid, hard beer gut, Ransom continues to pack on butter-soft fat. Soft, plush fat that can be felt when he’s not drum-tight from impossibly high levels of fullness.

Andy doesn’t care about Ransom’s pleasure in their arrangement of free use. He only cares about his own. Just like that first night when they encountered each other. He’s focused on himself. Fucking Ransom’s pasty, doughy thighs, then his clenching, tight little hole. Dumping him onto the bed and having his way with him, completely unrestrained.

During bloating and/or stuffing sessions, the pained groans Ransom gives, the way he clutches at his expanding, tight gut desperately, or his attempts to jerk his head away from a new bottle or another spoonful of a rich, decadent dessert do nothing to stop Andy. He can complain and squirm as much as he wants but it’s not gonna change the fact that he’s only done when Andy is satisfied. He’s his pet and his toy. He’s Andy’s to play with and use and ruin however he wants. All the new stretch marks Ransom develops appear seemingly overnight and appear very early on in their arrangement. The marks are dark and intense, his poor skin is literally splitting open with the pressure of all that food and alcohol in his belly. He whines and tries hard to soothe them with lotion and ice and heating packs, but it does nothing. Andy doesn’t care until he does. When he does, it’s because he’s getting off on it. Getting off and splattering them with come.

New stretch marks along with the rapid explosion of buttery soft fat on Ransom’s frame are just more evidence of that little fact… this isn’t about Ransom’s pleasure; it’s about Andy’s.

Andy is shamelessly using him.

Actually, if anything, the stretch marks, groans, whimpers, and visible discomfort, even pain, when Ransom is being used especially roughly turn Andy on. Fuck, look how much control I have over Ransom. Look how willing my rich, bitchy boy toy is to eat for me. Drink for me. Look at how he can’t stop me. Ransom heels. He surrenders. He’s so fucking easy and pathetic and that’s why Andy had to have him that first night, drugging him to get it.

Pathetic and needy.

It’s so easy for Ransom to fall into that mindset of being used up. Ruined. Controlled. He enjoys being Andy’s pet and fuck toy so much. It starts against his will, yeah, but it’s also everything he’s ever wanted. It’s not about his pleasure but… also, it is. He’s being spoiled and taken care of and pampered. He’s nearly always blackout drunk but that’s just a little detail. It doesn’t matter that much, most people in high society have alcohol problems behind closed doors anyway! Andy isn’t doing anything totally terrible. He’s just getting Ransom where he was bound to end up anyway, speed-running the debauchery of being so grossly rich.

Sure, when Ransom is lucid enough to think (a true rarity), he tells himself that he doesn’t want the weight that comes with the indulgence but it has to stay because he can’t separate the two. But, that’s not how it really is. Rich boy is lying to himself. And that’s nothing new.

It’s a lie because he can’t help it when he’s sober, when he’s tipsy, when he’s drunk, when he’s high, anything, he grabs his belly, his thighs, his moobs, any part of his suddenly much fatter body he can reach. He grabs himself. He wants it. He wants to feel it. He wants to see his body jiggle and move as he jerks off or tries to pitifully bounce on Andy’s cock only to find it to be too much work, going back to just lying there with the room spinning, letting Andy do all the heavy lifting. It’s fine. It’s great! Even if he tells himself he “doesn’t like it,” he doesn’t like gaining weight, it doesn’t matter. Andy is forcing him into it. There’s no guilt. Just indulgence. Just pounds piling onto his overburdened frame.

And… with the acceptance that he can’t stop, he’s only going to grow bigger and bigger and bigger until (or if) Andy decides to stop, Ransom is completely, wholly a rich pet. He sits on his ass, never lifting a finger, only getting fatter and fatter. Being fed all day, rolling around and jerking himself off if and when Andy has to leave to go to work or get more groceries or… whatever it is that he still has to do himself because he can’t pay one of his countless personal assistants to do it for him as his pet can. Disgustingly rich and shameless, detached from the everyday person’s lifestyle.

However, their exploitative dynamic gets worse and worse better and better until Andy has Ransom trained to only orgasm when he’s being fed or bloated. It started with Ransom’s love of having anything in his mouth. He’s always enjoyed fingers in his mouth, or cock or pussy in his mouth during sex - coming faster when he has something to occupy his plush lips - but it’s transformed. Andy exploits his oral fixation, perverting it until no matter how much Ransom tries to jerk himself off under his overflowing belly or reaches around his wide blubber to finger himself until he’s shaking, sweating, and whining from the unprecedented hard work, he can’t reach his climax. He can’t come until he’s being fed or bloated. He needs something being forced down his throat! He goes without (a long time for him, a few hours, but a pathetically short amount of time for literally anyone else) until he can’t and he slurs through begging words. Please, please, please, I need sugar! I need carbs! I need fat! I need alcohol! I need to come!

Then…

Andy makes it worse.

He always does.

Worse and worse and worse. Using him. Ruining him.

Andy forces Ransom to go from needing something edible in his mouth to needing his gut to be full, too. He needs something in his mouth and he needs his belly full. He’s so used to constantly being drunk and pigged out that when he isn’t, instinctually, all he’s thinking about is food and alcohol. More. He wants more. He has to be comfortable at his baseline.

And his baseline has become warped to the “comfort” of being painfully full, so packed and tight that new stretch marks are on the way.

Then, and only then, bloated like a beached whale, can he come.

Pathetic.

Also - as if Ransom needs more, the greedy bitch - Andy loves to dress Ransom up in luxury clothes. Andy gets hard from putting him in everything from panties and corsets and stockings and heels to full, classic suits. Slacks. Belts. Waistcoats. Jackets. Always Andy uses Ransom’s money - extensively using the passcodes he gave him to get into his bottomless bank accounts - and then stuffs and bloats him until he bursts out of his brand-new clothes. Immediately ruined and in need of replacement. The expensive fabric is nothing but scraps once they’re done with it. Rips and tears from fat bulging through, buttons missing, popped off from all the pressure, ladders in stretched stockings caused by widening hips and thighs.

And Ransom loves it. Of course, he’s ended up growing out of all his clothes… again. He wants to do it more, too. Please. The greed is on a constant loop in his mind, only intensified when Andy is near, pleading, feed me, feed me, feed me. Feed me! Feed me!

Ransom’s only known indulgence and luxury his entire life. He’s the worst kind of glutton. Always has been.

So it’s really not surprising to anyone from his old life - rich family and stuck-up “friends” - that he’s blown up like a balloon, even if they all make nasty comments about his gain. Unafraid to shame him, mocking him to his face as well as behind his back. Asking him if he really needs to eat all of that when they lunch together. Raising eyebrows when each and every time they see Ransom, he’s in new, larger clothes. Telling him to hurry up when they stroll, and he waddles through the many rooms of a mansion estate or the garden outside, side by side. Pestering Ransom about going to see a doctor because the baby should’ve come a few months ago, shouldn’t it have? Or simply outright telling him that he’s too fat and it’s embarrassing - threatening to cut him off or write him out of wills if he doesn’t slim back down to their expectations. They have standards. They have reputations to uphold. They can’t be seen with such a slob.

A pig.

When they say those terrible things to Ransom’s face, Andy might be comforting... if he feels like it. But usually, he’s demeaning, too.

Ransom lives for it. He gets some shivery enjoyment from people from his own walk of life shaming him, but it’s nothing like the pleasure of having the man who corrupted him shame him and then keep fucking ruining him. It’s the finest kind of head-spinning depravity. Always with some new way to make fun of him…

“Of course, they said that, pet,” Andy drawls, his accent really coming through when he’s turned on. “Did you forget to look in the mirror before you left the house?” He grabs his face and squishes his chubby chin and cheeks, “speaking of… you’re about the size of a house these days,” he grins.

Ransom whimpers at the same time that his tummy growls - it’s far from empty, but, whenever someone talks about his weight, it just makes him hungry. Hungrier. He’s always hungry. You can’t stretch his stomach to the size that it is without a voracious appetite.

Or…

Andy snorts, “can’t blame them for asking who tailors you’re clothes, can you, Rans? No one in high-end fashion makes clothes the size of tents.” He pulls at the soft sweater he’s wearing, the knit thick and making him look even thicker and softer. “They expect their wealthy patrons to know better than regular, working, and middle-class people, pet. They know the rich will stay thinner because they’re vain. That, or, you know, get the fat sucked out of them, going all plastic.”

Ransom moans around the beer bottle between his lips, he doesn’t stop swallowing more of the malty, flavorful drink, though. He can’t stop. Andy is right. There’s so much about the high life that requires so much self-control. Ransom has never had self-control. He can’t. He can’t control himself. He needs more.

Or…

“Aw, pet, were they making fun of you again?”

Ransom nods, pouting.

Andy just sighs, happily satisfied, “telling you you better get your eating under control, hm?”

Again, he nods.

“Imagine that… anyone thinking you are the one in control. You’re just a sweet, brainless little pet. Well. Not little. Not anymore,” he chuckles, and Ransom pants, his gut too heavy on his lungs. “They don’t know I’m the one fattening you up,” he pinches his ass filthily until Ransom squeaks, “this is mine. I fucking built this ass. But they don’t know that, pet. And they don’t even question it. Isn’t that wonderful, piggy? You’re so greedy they don’t even think about foul play. They just assume it’s your nature and you got hugely fat all by yourself.”

Ransom feels hot, his head is spinning again, and his vision is blurry as if he’s been afflicted by a sudden fever. They’re only in the next room over, taking a breather before they go and mingle with more of Ransom’s family. Ransom doesn’t give a fuck about his family (he never really has), but he especially doesn’t give a fuck right now. Right now he wants Andy to feel up his belly and jerk him off. Now. He’s so fucking horny. It’s hard enough to be sober for so long, acutely aware of every pound of fat on him, how he jiggles and moves, without anything to numb him, but when he’s being teased about it, too? Meanly by his family and meanly 🥵 by his fucking owner and feeder?

Fuck.

He’s too fucking hornyyyy.

“You want out of those clothes tonight, pet?” Andy tugs at the straining fabric of his waistcoat, barely holding around his rotund middle, the buttons this close to pulling apart so much that gaps form, exposing his dress shirt underneath.

Ransom nods eagerly, completely breathless at the thought (not that that’s a hard thing to achieve when he’s so severely restricted).

Andy tips his head to the side, indicating a passing server with champagne flukes on their elegantly balanced tray from the corner he’s crowded Ransom into, “then you better start fucking drinking,” he gruffly whispers, lips to his ear.

Ransom moans. Thank God. He’s been miserable sipping on just water all night, trying to be on his best behavior when around others.

“If you pop a button by the time we leave, in front of everyone, then you won’t have to go to bed clothed and aching. If not…” Andy just smirks, “it’s not like you can come without being so fucking grossly stuffed that you burst out of your clothes anyway, so it won’t matter, will it, pig?”

Ransom goes up in flames.

Immediately, he flags down the help and empties the tray of flukes into his keg-belly before waddling back into the middle of the party, unashamedly taking two of everything being passed out by the help. Food and drinks. He has a mission. Make a pig of himself in front of everyone until he pops.

[itsthestutterforme]

Our Special Night (Aemond Targaryen x black!reader)

Summary: You and Aemond are recently betrothed, but you needed to finalize the betrothal on your consummation night.

Notes: GIF is not mine, mistakes are my own, PURE filth, read at your own risk, sexual themes (oral sex, p in v penetration, fingering, exhibitionism, overstimulation), possessive Aemond, dom!Aemond

**

It was consummation night and you were beyond nervous. Aemond is a man of few words, which meant you had to read more into his body language and mannerisms. You didn’t know what to expect. The two of you rarely talk about the little things like our favorite food. Talk about our.. sexual experiences never came up.

The first time you met Aemond was different from your other suitors to say the least and you remember it well.

You sat in the banquet room for breakfast with your best friend Rose and your mother, Queen Camilla Chrystalla of the Reach Kingdom.

“I don’t understand what the gossip about Targaryen men. The way I see it, they are just as meek as the others-“ you trailed off when Aemond and Aegon entered the room. You and Rose stood from your chairs when the kingsman introduces the guests. “We present to you Prince Aemond Targaryen, first of his name, rider to the largest dragon in the world. And Prince Aegon, second of his name, heir to the Iron Throne.”

You bowed to the princes, your eyes fell to Aemond as you straightened your back. You waited for the princes to sit down before you sat down and Rose followed suit. You took a few seconds to take him in. The scar peeking from his eye patch intrigued you more than scared you.

His leather, pine green vest accentuated his broad shoulders, smaller waist and pale skin. But what drew your attention his wide, confident gate and his face looked like the gods sculpted it themselves. The intense gaze from his single eye didn’t help.

You broke eye contact when Rose nudged you. “What, did he have you in a trance?” She snorts. “Hm?” “Gods be good, he has, hasn’t he? And he was only in our kingdom for a day,” “Shhh,”

Come the weeks end, was your betrothal. Much to your dismay, the celebration was massive. You never liked attention. If you could help it, you would be at your favorite waterfall, Vieques, laying on the soft grass as you read your books.

Now came the most embarrassing moments of the entire betrothal process. The council remain in the room with you and Aemond have sex, solidifying your union. The council was already in the room when you and Aemond walked in. He walked in first, guiding you to the bed.

You sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he unbuttoned his leather vest and tugged off his undershirt. Your breathes became heavy when you eyes settled on his toned abdomen, rigid lines defining his pecks and abdominal muscles. Scars and scratches littering his arms presented themselves when he caged you in between them.

He leans in close but not to the point of touching. He wanted you to close to space between you, wanting you to set the pace of the consummation. Truth was, you’ve laid with a man before, on your eighteenth birthday. The man did everything whilst you just laid there, trying to keep quiet. It was pleasurable at times, but you never orgasmed.

And now here you were, your doe eyes looking up at him nervously. “It’s okay,” he says softly, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. Similar to the kiss he gave on the day of your wedding, soft and warm. And it left as soon as it came.

You followed his lips to deepen the kiss, your lips moving in sync with his slowly. Leaning on your back, he soon follows you and bunches your dress at your waist without breaking the kiss. You pulled away to ask, “Do you need me to remove my clothes?” “No,”

He watched your brows knit together in confusion and he leans in to whisper, “I don’t like others looking at what is mine, Princess.” He kisses you again before suctioning on the base of your neck. A soft moan left you at the sensation of his soft, plump lips kissing your exposed skin. He does this for a few paces before trying something different.

Dipping his hand between your legs, running the tips of his finger along your slit. Your hands grip his bicep at his advances. “Kiss me,” he complies, humming at the softness of your lips on his. You gasped when he rubbed slow, hard circles on your bundle of nerves.

Your eyes fluttered closed when he kissed from your jawline down your neck and to your breasts. He unravels your corset with one hand, not slowing his advances on your clit. Your stomach tenses as you gently roll your hips into his hand.

He pulled down your corset enough for one of your breasts to fall out. He wraps his mouth around you nipple and sucked on it until your back was arching. “M-my Prince,” “Aemond,” he correct before resuming his advances. The coil in your stomach was growing and your hips quickened until your orgasm washed over you.

A breath hitched in your throat, your hands desperately trying to push him off of you to alleviate the warmth overtaking your body. “Fuck,” you whimpered when you’re finally able to breathe. You made eye contact with one of the councilman while you were still dazed from the orgasm.

You covered your chest from his eyes and Aemond noticed your body tense under his touch. He looks up at the group in the corner. “Leave us,” “But my Prince, you haven’t officially consummated-“ “Trust me when I say it will be done within the hour. Now leave us, I won’t say it again.”

The council men filed out of the room and alerted the guards to not allowed anyone to disturb you. “Are you alright?” You nodded, slowly pulling your arms away from your chest. He resumes kissing your neck, sliding his hips in between yours. “Has anyone touched you like this?” He circles your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

“No,” you moaned, your hand fell to the back of his head. “Do you want me to do it again?” You nod and he pulls away from you. “Speak,” “Yes,” “Good girl,” he rubs hard circles on your clit before testing a finger inside of you. You weren’t aware your eyes were closed until he said, “Open your eyes. I want to see your face when I do this,”

Your walls expand around his two fingers, your body surging forward when he curls them into a sensitive spot and your mouth fell open in bliss. “You look so pretty when you come, do you know that?” He whispers into your ear, sinking his fingers in the same spot.

“Please,” “Please what?” “Fuck me,” “As you wish,” he mutters into your neck, he unravels the rest of your dress and corset. You sat up to pull your dress down your legs and he pulled your under garment gown over your head so you were completely bare to him.

And that didn’t make you nervous in the slightest. He kicked his pants off and your gaze fell to his dick. Fuck he was twice the size of the man you laid with, but not as thick, and his felt like it was splitting you open. “I..” “Do you trust me?” “I do,” “Good,” he settled back in between your legs, trailing the tip along your folds.

He widens your legs and kissed down your neck when he slowly slides inside of you. The pressure made you wince and you dug your nails into his back, making him groan softly. “Tell me when to move,” you kissed him warmly, your hands combing through his thick, silver hair.

He waited until you took a deep breath and nodded to shallow his thrusts into you. He gripped the sheets next to you, practicing restraint. You scratched at his back when he bottoms out entirely before thrusting in slow, deep thrusts.

The bed shook with the intensity of his thrusts and a low whine left your throat. He gathers you in his arms and pulls you into his lap with his knees sinking into the bed. He wraps an arm around your back, you move your hips up and down on him while he thrusts up into you.

His thrusts grew faster and his free hand rubs your clit once again. You moaned loudly as your second orgasm ascended in your stomach. “A-Aemond,” you gripped his shoulders when your orgasm ripped through you quicker than the first. Your clenching sent him over the edge, he finished inside of you.

His lips parted by heavy breaths, gently dropping you on the bed and slowly pulling out of you. He reached over to hand you a glass of water and you took a few sips. “What.. was that?” You asked, laying on your back. “How do you mean?” His soft baritone voice felt heavenly.

“You’re very stoic and stone faced with everything else. But come consummation night, and you’re giving praises and lingering kisses.” “Did you not like it?” “I- well I didn’t say that,” “So you did like it,” you laid on your side to face him whereas he laid on his back with his hand tucked behind his head.

You rested a hand on his chest before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I thoroughly enjoyed it,” “Then what are you trying to say?” “I.. like when you touch me intimately,” you explained. “You’re saying you throughly enjoy when I give you affection?” “Yes, I do,” “I’ll keep that in mind,” he watched as laid your chin on his chest, sending him a warm smile.

**

Your body was mellowed with sleep until you felt an odd pressure between your legs. You grumbled a bit and went to flip over on your stomach when you noticed a weight holding you in place.

“What?” You rubbed your eyes and opened your eyes to see Aemond’s head settled between your legs. “Aemond, what are you doing?” “Having breakfast,” he says, massaging your folds with the tip of his tongue.

Him making eye contact as he kitten licking your clit was enough to make you cum at the sight. A groan left your lips, your head falling back into the pillows. But it shot back up when you heard a hard knocking. Your eyes widened when Aemond wasn’t stopping his movements. “Aemond, what are you doing?” You whisper.

He spreads your folds with his thumb and sucks at the skin under the hood. Your body shook when you attempt to keep your moan at bay. “Princess?” The guard says. “Y-yes,” “The Queen is expecting you in the banquet hall,” he announces. “Very well. T-tell her I’ll be there soon.” “Oh fuck.” You clapped a hand over your mouth when you realized how loud you moaned.

“Yes, Princess.” You heard his foot steps descend from the room. “My Gods, now they’ll think I’m a whore,” he alternatives from kitten licking your bundle of nerves and circling it with the tip of his tongue. It made you feel so dirty how much you were enjoying the wet sounds of him licking you from the inside out.

When the heat was starting to get too much, you pushed at his head for him to stop. He grumbled in annoyance but didn’t pull away. “Aemond, please.” You whimpered, turning your body away from him and moving yourself to the headboard.

Tears formed in your eyes when he followed you to the headboard, trapping you until you came with a sob. He licks up yours juices in broad licks. He continued to lick you until you came again and he fucked you for good measure afterwards.

“What was the lesson?” He asks calmly while the two of you walked into the banquet well passed the time you promised. Your legs trembled with every step you took and he peers down at you as he waited for your answer. “Never push you away,” “And?” “Take whatever you give me,” “Mm, good. Don’t let it happen again,” he stays, motioning you to walk into the hall first.

“What is the meaning for your tardiness, Y/N? Are you feeling ill?” Your mother asks. “My apologies your Grace. We slept through the guard’s announcement.” You gave you and your father a kiss before finding your seat. Aegon looks at you with an amused smile and you avoid his gaze. You and Aemond sat next to each other, with his brother and your best friend Rose on either side of you.

“How was consummation?” Aegon asked. You were grateful that your parents and the hand were caught up in their own conversations so they couldn’t hear yours. “That bad, huh?” Rose states. “Or that good,” Aegon comments.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and you reached for a string of grapes. “So good that they continued it in the morning,” Rose added. “Did you make her cry, brother? Her eyes look red,” you rested your hands in your face, wanting to disappear and Aemond tuts at you.

You met his gaze when he held your chin in between his pointer finger and his thumb. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he pressed two a quick pecks to your lips and links his hand with yours. “That’s enough talk about consummation,”

[azuresins]

Unpopular opinion but I really like the poison theory. I think O!ciel may have had asthma but clearly something, or someone in his life, was triggering it/making it much more severe while he was in the manor when he was a child. I don't think Yana would have put the footnote that asthma was misdiagnosed a lot in the Victorian era for no reason. It makes NO sense for his health to improve while he was facing physical abuse and the living conditions and air quality, got worse. He went from not being able to go outside to living in a moldy dusty basement and force-fed gruel I'm expected to believe we're not supposed to be suspicious? He never showed signs of it under Sebastian's care until the circus arc. If he does genuinely asthma, it's would be acute asthma and he'd have very specific triggers. If it were chronic, Sebastian would have noticed much sooner that he was sick. Apart from the odd greeting at their "reunion", the sneaking him secret food, stealing cough drops, and being a gifted child with high intelligence... what makes R!Ciel the culprit? Is it possible it was someone else?

Thank you. While I do think R!Ciel had a big part to play in what happened that day... I don't think he's the true Mastermind, because I don't think the outcome was what he wanted at all. I think he was manipulated by someone else. It's highly possible he willingly betrayed his parents (more specifically Vincent) because he was a child and very mad at them. He found out they had ties to the IRA and was willing to turn them in, with promises he'd get rewarded and he and Our!Ciel could stay together forever and live happily ever after. Or something, to that effect. But that's not what happened. I also think there's more to him even as a child than we're supposed to believe. I also find it really hard to believe a child who had the wisdom in all that carnage took the most valuable possession off his dead father's finger, and had the wisdom to know to swallow it and knew he could keep it inside. I know this sounds strange... but a lot of people can do that. Swallow objects of that size and regurgitate them, at-will. There are people who make a living out of it in shows, and what-not. I remember this one man could do it with multiple objects at once, and not only could he regurgitate them at will... but he kept track of them inside his stomach and knew which object was which, and he could make the one he wanted to come up, one at a time, or two at a time if you asked. It takes a lot of practice, though... which tells me, maybe the ring isn't the first time he's done it. I don't look at that ten-year-old and think 'he's so brave and smart' for swallowing that ring with confidence and knew he could keep it in his body, safe. I look at him and wonder.... what made him think he'd need that ability to begin with.

[lazlolullaby]

GOTG Holiday Special rewrite/subplot additions

(alt title: Damn, Yondu got a funeral and two follow ups and he was an a-hole of a dad, but Gamora was a core member, a love interest, and a mom and gets nothing??? Lemme fix that.)

Take this with a grain of salt, as with all fanworks, this is for me and i’m just sharing it with you. It’s also a messy rambling outline so. if you have more questions or ideas, message me or make your own post.

Stakar and Aleta Orgord, the Ravager Leaders, send a single helmeted person to hunt The Guardians down and give them a box. It should be easy, they just bought a new base.

It cuts to the Guardians on Knowhere, looking at at a message from the planet Zen-Whoberi. In-between Infinity War and Endgame, Rocket and Nebula were able to bury the Guardian!Gamora on Zen-Whoberi. Now that people were returned from the Blip, there were some arguments and Gamora’s remains now need to be moved. Peter is distraught, but he goes with Rocket and Groot to pick up the body.

Mantis, Drax and Nebula stay behind. Mantis, seeing how Peter is sad, checks a calendar. It’s almost Christmastime! She remembers in the time between Vol 2 to now that he does celebrate it. He usually does something small; a gift exchange, splurging on a good sit down meal. This year Mantis wants to go BIG.

Kraglin tries to talk her out of it, but Drax and Nebula back her up. Drax because now they have a Permanent Base in the form of Knowhere he’d like to make good memories. And Nebula also had been invited to the Stark’s Extended Family Christmas parties and wants a little more of that cheer.

In the background the helmeted person leaves the Box on Knowhere, it looks ominous but it’s soon lost and swept up in the Christmas planning. Nebula looks at it thoughtfully.

So now we have two running plots, one a somber grieving of Gamora and discussion of what she would have wanted. And one Christmastime with Aliens Mania. Decorating, discussing traditions, going to a gay bar and stealing Kevin Bacon.

Add in some details that Rocket remembering Lylla and his first family, that Groot also considered Guardian!Gamora his mother. Peter did go to the Stark funeral, but...emphasis on the implication that he’s been running for so long that he’s never slowed down to process that grief. Picking up her remains forces him to start thinking and that foreshadows in Vol 3 where he knows he can’t “fix” Feral!Gamora and he’s a bit of a mess.

It’s just a toss up if they steal Kevin Bacon before the others get back and Cosmo is the one to object to human trafficking. But Kevin calms down and celebrates with them.

Peter, Rocket and Groot come back to a highly decorated Knowhere with food and cheer and it’s just the thing to remind them of what they have now. Mantis tells him they are siblings and Peter is thrilled.

Groot opens the Ravager box for everyone - it’s fabric and leather with a new logo for the Guardians for them to make their own outfits. As a congratulations, a peace offering from the Ravagers.

Nebula gives Rocket the prosthetic arm. “How in the heck didja manage to get this?”

There’s a flashback with Bucky and Nebula. “I want the arm for my friend for Christmas. I don’t wish to harm you...much.” “Hey If I just give it it’s gonna look suspicious. So. Let’s make the fight look good.”

Nebula replies: “The Spirit of Christmas possessed me and gave me the strength not to kill him.”

After Kevin returns home, after the major gift giving and it winds down, they hold a second funeral for Gamora.

Her remains are burned like Yondu’s were and released outside of Knowhere to the song “Rubberband man”. The Ravager ships show up and throw some fireworks. Referencing her nearly dying in space with Peter in Vol 1 and the song she was singing in IW. In a way, she’s there with them at their new home, with her family.

Cut to credits.

end credits scene where Feral!Gamora was the helmeted person and was watching the funeral from afar. “This is a waste of time and resources. I’ve never even seen such foolish warriors. How did they even manage to save the galaxy?”

Nebula jumps in on the communication. “Twice. Even more if you look close enough.”

“I suppose I will have to take your word for it. It’s...good to talk to you again, sister. You were the one I hated least.” Gamora tips up her chin.

Nebula grunts and tips up her chin. “I understand if you don’t want to stay.”

“I suppose...it’s difficult. You’ve always been compared to me, and now - I feel as if I go back, I’ll be compared to myself.”

“Whoever you turn out to be. You will always be my sister.”

Gamora smiles and turns away.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

War

TW: Blood, death, fear, references to a traumatic past

He runs off. Fast. Wide-eyed. With a single-minded compulsion to keep going. He longs to look back, but he can't. He shouldn't. He knows he will find nothing but loss back there. He has no friends or family to hold on to.

He doesn't understand his utter desperation. It makes no sense to him at first. But he realises why he's running. He can't be a soldier again. He's sick of playing martyr for cold-hearted kings that wouldn't bat an eye over his lost life. That would push him over the edge and bribe him with stories of glory and freedom and honour. He was a hungry boy. They gave him food. Soggy, tasteless porridge, stale bread and dried meat if he was very lucky. He had straw to sleep on. An uncomfortable uniform to wear. But he was not picky. This was the best he knew.

He runs forward, and he sees the man he is meant to fight against. He's grateful for the crumpled expanse of rock he hides behind. The man has tight lips pursed together and furrowed brows. He has this repulsion radiating from him. The boy's heart is in his knees.

He remembers his horrible training and sleepless nights. His fear and hesitation are gone. Swallowed up by the earth beneath him. His eyes fall on soldiers, who look like they would rather be anywhere else. His fingers tighten on the bow. He shoots. Two to the heart and one to the head. The cruel man falls to the ground, another dead body, no longer imposing, his precious crown, a dirty piece of metal on the ground.

The others stand, transfixed in their shock and awe. He steps out from his hiding place. A hint of fear could be read on their faces. One of them motions for the young soldier to take the crown. "For there is no one better."

The boy's rage melts to confusion, but he does as told. He picks it up, the tyrant's blood drips, which has its own irony; how many soldiers lost theirs for it? It strangely fits him perfectly. He sees his reflection in a nearby puddle. Somehow, with his tattered clothes, half-starved figure and blood and sweat all over him, the crown looks as though it had been forged for him. He laughs. Him, a king? If it wasn't for the sharp pains all over his body, he'd know he was dreaming. How, when his wildest fantasy had been eating his food warm?

He walks across the field, and the soldiers throw down their weapons, they attempt to bow, but he laughs loudly. It's comedic. He tells them there is no need. He's one of them. Another soldier tired of wasting his life on the inflation of fragile egos.

When he goes to the castle that is apparently his now, he is stunned by how. . .frivolous it seems, for lack of a better word. His predecessor's narcissism mars every corner of the place, making him feel claustrophobic. Far too many portraits and tapestries, featuring him or how great he is. He knows his first decision as "king" is to destroy all of it, or somehow find a use for them. The castle's spaciousness is somewhat intimidating, but he has to admit that it definitely wins over being squeezed in a "dormitory" with over thirty other boys.

He isn't prepared for the fact that not everyone in the castle was so welcoming to the idea of him being king. He's instantly cornered by a man with a greedy look in his eyes. "So this is whom you've chosen as your king? A mere boy? Have you seen how he's dressed? How can such a commoner rule us, when the fallen king's right-hand man still lives! And by law, and I quote: if a ruler were to die with no heir of royal blood, their right-hand is to have the throne, and it is tied to their lineage, unless the ruler's death was brought upon by the hand of a person, who has proven it is their doing and that the death was a worthy one, in battle or combat, and not treason and mutiny, then the throne is in the possession of this person and is tied to their lineage."

"He's killed the tyrant, me lord. He's wearin' his crown. He freed us all. Isn't tha' enough?" one soldier asked tentatively.

"And where is the evidence that this, this knave, wherever you found him, has actually achieved such a feat? He can't lift a twig if he tried!" This illicited jeering and laughter at him from all the nobles.

After the laughter subsided, his face contorted into a scowl, and he looked at the boy and said, "Did you really kill the king? If so, prove it, boy!" He snatched the crown from his head.

He'd expected to apologise and leave the crown. Because nothing good ever lasted long in his world, and soon this scene would be over.

Instead, he looked him straight in the eyes and said, "How am I meant to prove it? By doing you in the same way? Two in yer heart and one in yer head? Check his corpse and my quiver. What unites them is the exact same arrows."

Even he was shocked at his own audacity. Never in his life had he imagined doing that. In the presence of a nobleman? He must've lost his mind. He might die for that one, but at least his last words would have been remembered.

The nobleman's face became almost animalistic, his pale skin turning beet red as he screamed, "YOU INSOLENT SCUM!" and slapped him back-handed, the way an inferior is struck.

He really felt desperate now, it was like being back in his old training. Except he had sometimes been punished without error. His heart skipped a thousand beats and his stomach felt hollow. He was terrified now, even if his face didn't show it. But, he was also enraged.

Enraged at himself for being foolish and at his life for continuously beating him down. He thought he was condemned to yet another horrible fate until. . .

The soldiers who shared his desperation had brought the tyrant's carcass to the room. The arrows were still there, the blood was almost fresh. He remembers his soiled hands and the crown, blood dried on it too, and he'd never been more grateful to be covered in someone else's blood than now. He thrusts one of his arrows at the nobleman. "No one here uses the same arrows. So you believe me now? Believe your soldiers now?" The man is left speechless.He recites the whole passage above. Word for word. He'd always had an incredibly good memory, and it was being put to good use now.

The man had absolutely no choice, but to surrender the crown to him, and his face was enough to bring the boy eternal happiness. The soldiers cheer, and the noblemen remain solemn and silently accept their fate.

He cleans himself up in the king's room - his room. No matter how incredible the warm water feels on his sore muscles, it still burns when it flows over his wounds. He barely gives out an inaudible hiss. He's not used to expressing pain. He's been taught the hard way that he needs to live like he's physically incapable of feeling it. It's also why he refuses any help when bandaging his wounds or when dressing up. Old habits die hard.

His skinny frame doesn't fit into the dead tyrant's clothes. He's grateful for that. Instead, he wears a white linen shirt, dark blue pants and blue leather boots. It's what's in his size right now, till something new is made. The only sign of his newfound "royalty" is a red cape. Simple, but beautiful, with diamond-studded edges. He rolls up his sleeves and doesn't care if it's "unbecoming".

He looks at himself in the mirror and wonders again if he was dreaming. He must be. There's no sweat or blood on his face. His clothes fit, and they don't feel uncomfortable. His raven hair is not matted and sweaty. He runs his hand through it. It's soft; he'd always assumed he was born with terrible hair, but he'd just realised it was naturally soft, now that it had been washed well. He could say he'd stayed in the water for an hour or two, maybe more, with no one forcing him out. God, he smells like roses! And perfume oil he's sure costs a fortune. He laughs. He expects to wake up any second, until he accidentally presses too hard on a wound in his chest, trying to adjust his shirt. It hurts terribly, and he knows he can't feel that in a dream, and for the first time, he's ecstatic at feeling pain.

The coronation leaves him a mess of nerves, but years of training help him supress them. He tries to stand tall and he takes in the attendance with a languid gaze, ignoring his racing heartbeat and the knots beginning to twist in his stomach.

It all goes surprisingly well, and he sits down on the throne, trying and failing miserably to keep the corner of his lip from twitching upwards everytime he catches sight of that particularly irritating nobleman, his utter smugness being the culprit. This new feeling of power, of victory, is one he could practically get drunk on, something he had been stripped of his whole life. It surges through his veins with the sudden shock of euphoria injected into them with no warning.

"And now the new king will give a speech."

It takes all of his self-restraint to avoid swearing. His new confidence dissappears faster than a candle is put out. He feels so wrong here. His voice, his figure, his accent, his background all seemed so ill-fitting now.

"It seems like His Majesty is not very keen on giving the speech," the nobleman sneers coldly.

He isn't letting that nobleman have even the minor satisfaction of watching him be a nervous wreck. Inconsequential as it is, spite is a wonderful motivator.

He straightens his shoulders and snaps his head up sharply, no matter how badly his gaze wishes to be glued to the floor.

"His Majesty would in fact, like to give a speech," he retorts, making sure to keep his tone calm and even, masking any emotion he might've felt. He stands up from the throne.

"To all those present, I'm going to be ultimately honest with you. I was not born in nobility. I do not even know of my descent. My past is not one I've carved by my own hands. Rather, it was stolen from me. I was molded into no more than just a soldier. Destined to die on some battlefield in the middle of nowhere."

He gains confidence, no longer trying to mask his accent anymore. "Oh, they'd tell stories about me. 'Course they would. I bought that tale because there was nothin' else te hold on to. But no more. No more wars fer absolutely no good reason. No more forcing children to fight when they've barely started walkin'. No more treating soldiers like objects more than actual livin', breathing human beings!"

"Sometimes war is needed. But more often than not, it is a product of no more than greed, selfishness and an insatiable desire for power you know ye don't own, nor deserve. Thank you."

He sits down again, and it's safe to say from the standing ovation he gets that he's made great work of it.

Do not ask those who started the war about what happened. Ask those who were forced to fight and survived.

Notes: Yes, I know. I promised to post fluff. But I honestly have no time! I have so much schoolwork, so this actually isn't a new piece. It's been sitting in my phone's notes for around well over a year maybe. I just added a new scene in the end. Hope you enjoyed this! Love you guys! (platonic ofc, my sweethearts) 💜💜