#though if pressed im sure i could come up with some bullshit connection to make. i dunno lol

[cherry-shipping]

i think about my horrortale self insert so much i dont know what it is that made them my favorite insert but im having fun with them as if they were someone elses character HONESTLY

[fandomfluffandfuck]

legit begging you to expand on sillysicklys subpiling post bc i luv luv luv it and i wanna reaad more but im a shit writer :((((((

related to this

@sillysickly get over here, you'll enjoy this, lol 😏

Aw, baby, I'm sure you're not a shit writer! You can do it!

I will happily dive back into the concept of subpiling with an excuse such as this, though 👀

In the previous installments (that are linked in the related post, seen above), I made up an AU where Steve and Bucky are both subs in a sleazy, rundown sort of small-town, but what's the fun of writing if not just randomly making new shit up constantly, so... this isn't exactly in that same 'verse, I could probably do some writerly bullshit magic to connect it, but, let's be honest, this is mostly just subpiling for the sake of subpiling.

Our boys--both of them sweet, silly subs--become aware of each other at no other place than the gym. Ironically, the reason each of them is drawn to the other is the same. Steve and Bucky both steal heated glances, quick elevator eyes up and down, using the mirrors everywhere to their advantage, maybe even delaying or speeding up their workouts to end up in the locker room at the same time, maybe even the showers, and end up assessing the situation of tight workout gear, bulging muscles, bared, flushed skin, and glistening sweat to come to the conclusion of--shit, that guy has to be a top, if not an outright dom, and I fucking need him.

And all that is not to even mention the sounds! Steve and Bucky both lift extensively and with all that weight, grunts and groans are bound to slip out from between gritted teeth, jaws are bound to get set into an unfairly sharp square, clenched, that makes it impossible not to imagine the same tension-filled, almost pained expression and the same fucking guttural sound of struggle while he's on top of him. So overwhelmed by his tightness and fucking plowing into him, putting all that gym-honed strength to good use, making his brain drip out of his ears, forgetting everything but the way it feels, teeth-rattling, orgasm-chasing, ah, ah, ah. Surrounded by the sex-thick scent of it all, musky and sweaty, purely fucking manly. They both want it bad.

Each of them--Bucky and Steve--want to get pounded through the mattress by the other. Pitty, if only these sweet, dumb muffins knew the truth...

It doesn't take them too long to find out, though. Just a few short weeks of watching, waiting, occasionally locking eyes, bumping into each other too many times for it to be pure coincidence, and, oops, somehow they end up in the sauna together, post-workout, the last of the late-night stragglers.

The reason it's even taken a few weeks for them to finally end up totally alone together is because each of them is expecting the other to take charge and make a move. But, that's not happened. Even in the sauna together, alone, sure to not be interrupted, nothing happens right away. The steam billows around them, clouding them--crowding them, and still they're so shy. Steve's blushing worse now than he does on his PR, limit-pushing days, and that pretty color drips down his body from his face all the way to his toned stomach. He's painted like an obscene sunset. And the only reason Bucky can't tell if his flush goes farther is because of the towel cinched tight at his hips. Bucky keeps squirming in his own seat, just an inappropriately short way away, spreading his legs, then drawing them back together, effectively alternating between obscenely squeezing his thighs together to put pressure on his antsy dick and spreading it to expose the way his dick is pushing against his own towel.

They can't fucking get it together.

Each of them is practically vibrating out of their skin with untapped energy, heavily charged and so ready to go, until Steve fucking snaps in response to Bucky's pushy little scoots, getting closer and closer and closer until their sweaty, slick thighs are pressed together. Their towels barely cover half of their upper legs, so they both gasp, skin to skin for the first time. It's then that Steve breaks the standstill by snaking one big hand up between them and curling his surprisingly deft fingers around Bucky's chin, turning his head toward him, and...

Leaning in.

Their lips crash together urgently and uncoordinatedly. Steve has to tilt his head to the side to stop their noses from hitting. Bucky's open-mouthed gasp makes his teeth dig into Steve's fat lower lip. Still, God, it's good. It's hot. Immediately, they're both hotter than they can take--shivering with the fever lapping at them, boiling them alive in the sauna.

Steve kisses hard. Bucky kisses back just as viciously. And the sounds of their lips moving together make it hard for them both to breathe. When Steve can't bear just kissing, lips on lips, as desperate as it is, he lets his jaw go slack and licks explicitly into Bucky's mouth, teasing his tongue against his lips until he gets with the program and eagerly, needily lets him in. Yielding like butter to a hot knife.

Jesus Christ.

Steve fucks his mouth with his tongue, so fucking hot for it that it's practically unbearable, even catching Bucky's lip with his teeth, nipping, teasing, but all that well-practiced-skill is destroyed the moment Bucky reciprocates with just the barest hint of force. Steve is weak for it. Bucky sucking on his tongue leaves him raggedly moaning, then whining when Bucky places a heavy hand on his thigh. He's sweating so badly that it's a pure, sensationally erotic glide when Bucky lets his hand explore higher.

Up, up, up he pushes and Steve melts accordingly. Bucky can fucking touch him anywhere, just so much as he keeps fucking touching him. Oh, God. He rucks up his towel but gets tangled somewhere along the way, so he isn't touching him directly anymore. Noo, Steve whines, his mouth going slack and wet, hardly kissing anymore, just letting himself be kissed, open and needy, as Bucky palms his dick through his towel.

Bucky keeps kissing him, his mouth sizzling and dirtily sliding across his face, more kissing the side of his mouth than locking on. It makes it all worse. Better. Steve feels smeared and he can't help but slouch against the sauna bench, letting the wood take his full weight--muscles and all.

As it turns out, though, just from cupping his dick, Bucky's just as weakened. So, his mouth gets sloppy, too. Hardly putting any effort into crashing together, just letting his lips gape, weakened as he hazily feels him up. Mouth to mouth, breathing each other in, panting, huge chests heaving together.

He's so big.

Bucky can't help but whine into Steve's sweaty, burning cheek, nuzzling against his body. His mouth is watering. He wants that in him. It feels so big and it's so thick in his hand, and, guh--immediately, Bucky's fighting to blink his eyes open and stare, unashamed, down at what Steve's packing between his muscular thighs.

Bucky just fucking paws at him, clumsy, until his towel is out of the way.

He's fucking stunned.

It looks heavy.

It'd fill him up so good.

Bucky whines, aching for Steve's dick, he wants to be fucked hard. But his sound hits Steve's ears like a punch to the gut, going straight to his dick, and so he's whining, too. Messy and high-pitched, a true fuck-me whine.

They're debilitated by arousal together, fucked up, staring at each other. Somehow both of them are already cock drunk, eyelids drooping, mouths red, swollen, and hanging open, their coordination shot to shit. They're just turning into a puddle, all the heat going straight to their muscles and bones, melting them down. Melting them into each other.

Somehow, Steve manages to clamber back to his senses enough to realize that someone has to be on top (someone has to do something!) and, he, he's fucking seen the size of Bucky, his chest and arms and thighs and--he's suddenly frantically scrambling to pull Bucky into his lap, he wants him on top of him, pressing him down, grinding into him, fucking him. But, Bucky's skin is slick with sweat from the workout, from the sauna, from the sexual tension snapping between them, and Steve just can't get a grip. It doesn't help that Bucky's out of his mind, squirming, and he just doesn't make it into his lap. Not really. The closest he gets--his towel, too, gets tangled up and falling away--is half in, half out. He's precariously balanced, his face smashed into his chest with his back arched as his humid pants paint condensation across Steve's skin. Smushed and tangled up like that, somehow, his legs are split, straddling one of Steve's thighs, and his dick is right there.

Oh, shit.

He's hard. He's so hard. It makes Steve crave having it shoved inside him, big and thick and he's not as long as some of the men Steve's taken but he's thicker. Steve can fucking feel the throbbing girth of it, pressed insistently against his thigh. Bucky feels it too because instantly he's squirming worse. Arching his back, spreading his thighs like a slut, and making his dick slide smoothly against his sweat-slick thigh.

Half in his lap, half falling out of it, Bucky starts humping his thigh.

It feels so good, his skin is smooth, Jesus, somewhere in the back of Bucky's mind, he's wondering if Steve gets waxed or some shit because he's so smooth and soft and the friction is friction--it's heated, desperate drag, skin on skin--but it's so effortless, too. Smooth. Slick. Silky and almost oiled. He can hardly stand it. It's so good, but, fuck, when things are good, Bucky greedily wants more and things are fucking great when he's filled one way or another. Something in his ass. Something in his mouth. It doesn't matter. He just wants something inside him. It's what he was made for. Filling.

He wants to get filled so much that as he's riding his thigh, sweat-slippery, barely holding on, his mouth opens wider on instinct, and then Bucky's mouthing and lapping at the swell of Steve's chest. Face-first in his tits, licking his skin, salty and hot like heaven on his tongue. Bucky can't think to slide down further and start laving attention to Steve's hard, pink nipples. He's just thinking about how good it feels. How good Steve feels underneath him. How good it is to rut and hump mindlessly.

Used and defiled so thoroughly--Bucky's dick hot pushed up against his thigh and his face smashed into his built chest--Steve throws his head back wantonly. He can barely hang onto the squirming desperate thing in his lap as squirming and desperate as he himself is.

Steve's hands are shaking where they rest on Bucky's feverish skin. Steve's body has gone limp despite his aching dick. His dick keeps twitching and he can feel Bucky's saliva drooling onto his skin--he knows he's staring down at it where it's pointed straight up at him,, dripping against his clenched stomach, so hard and ready to be used while Bucky struggles and whines for it. Steve knows Bucky wants to be fucked. Bucky knows Steve wants to be fucked. They both know there's not a goddamn thing to be done about it. They can't stop. They don't know how. They just don't know what the fuck to dooo! It's incredible; it's agony.

Bucky can't stop looking, he can't stop forgetting himself and shutting his eyes tight, riding the pleasure as it crashes through him. Devastating. He wants Steve's cock in his mouth, he's so thirsty, craving Steve's big hands in his hair, pushing and forcing him down to level with it, knees hitting the floor hard. But Steve isn't controlling or forcing or steering in any way. He can't manage it! Normally when he hooks up, he's the one being forced--not forcing.

They're on the same side and it doesn't work. Yet, it's beyond good. It's humiliating--how hot this is. Stuck. Trapped by their shared instinct to sit back and be used like dolls. Limp and boneless, both of them so fucked and yet so not fucked, they stay lost in pleasure exactly where they are.

Steve doesn't know what to do! He has this gorgeous boy on top of him, all hot and loose, uncoordinated and hurried and his mouth is so near his nipples and Steve wants him to touch his tits but he can't stutter the words out, so he just writhes, painstakingly indulged and denied by in the not-enough, too-tantalizing sensation of a cock thick and hot against his thigh. He wants a cock in him! He wants a mouth on his nipples, sucking and biting and telling him exactly when to cum. He wants to be controlled, demanded of, and used. He is being used but not like normal and--

Ohhh, God.

It feels so good.

He doesn't fucking care.

His head spins he doesn't know what to do but slouch, boneless, and take it. His mind is completely empty, only left with steam, about as smart as a sauna himself. He could cum like this. He, he could--

He's gonna cum like this.

Now? Now? Is he allowed?

Oh, fuck--

Now.

So, uh, subpiling, am I right? 🥴🥴

[finnsucks23]

For your omegaverse request, mayhaps an alpha!aizawa or alpha!shinsou x virgin!omega!reader? 👀

A/N: OKAY OKAY I SEE YOU. Listen... Alpha Shinsou has me feeling things. That might just be the bottom talking, but it's a fact. Thank you for this Anon, really.

[ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+]

I ended up closing it at a close point!! I'm not sure if you all would want a part 2? Let me know!!

Pairing: Alpha!Shinsou x Omega!F!Reader.

Warnings: 18+ Content, Omegaverse, Dumbification, Not quite Smut but pretty close.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

"Mirio, I'm begging you-" you pleaded over the phone, tears gathering in your eyes as the pain in your gut began to increase tenfold.

The younger girl next to you noticed the pain you were going through, and hugged you as you spoke to her trusted friend.

"I can't, Y/n. I already told you I'm about an hour away with Tamaki and Nejire. I'm sure Shinsou or Izuku would be able to pick up little Eri." His cheery voice had you boiling with anger.

"I already texted Shinsou and he hasn't replied, no surprise there. He hates me." You huffed, looking at Eri and giving her a smile as you tried to hide your discomfort.

"Plus he's an Alpha! It would be awful, Mirio." You felt your face heat up at the thought of you pouncing on Shinsou when he least expected it.

Could it be that bad though?

No. What are you thinking?! Shinsou is a annoying, lazy, man whore who sleeps around with as many women as he wants.

He is trouble, and you wonder where your father went wrong in training him.

Throughout high school, Shinsou seemed to be a laid back and nice guy. You actually became close when he joined your class, after Denki harassed him to be friends, of course.

You had grown accustomed to him coming over for dinner and training late with Aizawa, you'd have to spend late nights with Eri and make sure she went to bed on time and such.

As your third year started coming to an end, you had to keep your distance.

It upset you greatly, it really wasn't your choice but Aizawa had asked you to keep away from his golden boy.

That's when Hitoshi became the rude asshole he is now, when you tried to make amends at the graduation party, he told you to stay away.

He told you that you completely repulsed him and he wanted nothing to do with you.

It hurt.

You only kept in contact for Eri's sake, over a year has passed since that day but his words still break your heart.

"Whatever..." you sighed, "I'll call Deku. I'll see you tomorrow." You didn't give the happy go lucky blond a chance before you hung up and called Izuku.

"Hello?" You could tell he was smiling by the way he spoke, it was just so easy to tell with him. "Hey Izuku! Listen, I'm in a lot of pain right now and I really need someone to come get Eri. Is there any way you or Uraraka could come get her?" You crossed your fingers in hope as you held your breath.

"Of course! But are you okay? Did something happen?" The worry in his voice made you frown, he was always such a caring friend.

"I just... I ran out of suppressants. I've been so busy that I lost track and now I'm in a bit of a bind." You gripped your stomach as your emerald haired friend agreed to come pick up your sister.

You thanked him over and over again as you ended the call and grabbed Eri's hand, walking her to her room so she could grab some stuff to go.

It didn't take long for Izuku to show up on your doorstep, he had a happy smile that quickly dissapeared when he caught a bit of your scent.

"Oh no, that's really really potent. Are you going to be okay?" He gave you a worried smile, you just shrugged feeling yet another sharp pain in your lower belly.

"I'll just let it run it's course, I've never really been through this before and I don't know what to expect..." you frowned, immediately perking up at the sudden urge you felt to barricade yourself away in your room.

You leaned down and gave Eri a forehead kiss before ushering her out the door and saying your goodbyes, as soon as you shut the door, all hell had broken loose.

It was like floodgates as your body began to burn, immediately you tore at the shirt on your back, peeling it off your sweating skin as you began to pant.

Circling around your livingroom, you slid off the sweatpants you were wearing along with the underwear. Looking down, slick was keeping the fabric close to your cunt as you whined, pulling it away and watching the stringy white substance keeping you connected.

Throwing them to the side of wherever in your house, you wobbled your way into the kitchen to grab a ice pack or two to help keep your body temperature down.

Just as you opened your freezer, and reached for the blue gel packs, the doorbell rang and you froze in place feeling more heat course through your veins.

That scent.

It smelled so good.

Your eyes felt glossy as you shifted uncomfortably, feeling in a bit of a haze as you stumbled to the door, only a bit embarrassed at the lack of clothing.

"Y-yes?" You called out, pressing your ear to the door. The deep grumble that you heard had suddenly set your heart and cunt on fire.

Oh no, this was bad.

Really bad.

"Izuku told me everything, I came by to bring some medication and stuff." The deep voice huffed, making you feel a bit angry at the sudden flood of emotions.

"Piss off Hitoshi! You couldn't even fucking answer when I needed you to come get Eri!" You scrunched up your nose with distaste, feeling another wave of slick gush down your thighs.

You pressed them together, letting out a long mixture of a moan and a whine. You swore you heard Shinsou curse outside your door.

"Y/n. Just open the damned door." He demanded, the tone of his voice released something in you as you felt like you were floating. You couldn't control yourself as you unlocked the latch, stepping behind the door as you opened it to reveal the glorious Alpha you wanted for years.

He was gorgeous.

His lilac hair was a mess, but you always just wanted to run your fingers through it and pull at the roots. His scruff was barely there but still present, and it made your stomach tighten with how well it fit his rugged looks.

He was tall, broad, and muscular.

He was a top Alpha.

"I don't want you here." You lied, ignoring your animalistic instincts to just latch onto the tall man. "That's bullshit, I can smell when you lie. Your pheromones decrease a little." You froze at the words as he pushed the door open, not even sparing you a glance as he strutted through your apartment.

"Hey! Get out and d-don't look at me!" You growled, growing frustrated with this seemingly incompetent and arrogant asshole.

"I don't want to look at you, trust me." His words stung you a bit as you watched his face grow with disgust as he spotted the clothes you tore away from your heated skin. He kicked them a bit with his black boot, suddenly you could hear his heart rate increase as he spotted a certain cloth.

It was still soaked, covered in so much slick, he couldn't help but let out a shaky breath as his jeans suddenly felt tight around his groin.

You had let out another pained cry as your cunt throbbed, your hand immediately reaching down to the area to subside the pain. It was supposed to be innocent in hindsight, only your instincts kicked im at the sudden warmth of your fingers.

In a haze, your body moved on its own. Slick began to coat your digits as you dragged them up and down your folds, shuddering as they grazed your clit.

"Fuck-" you breathed out, eyes rolling in the back of your head as Hitoshi turned around to catch you in the act.

You expected a look of disgust, or at least a slough of harsh words to pour from his lips. Instead, nothing came. Only a small smirk as his bold eyes stared you down.

"Toshi..." You mumbled, keeping eye contact as you continued to rub tight circles into your clit. The man only growled, tilting his head as he visibly had conflict with himself.

Shinsou was trying to fight his feral side, trying to calm down the Alpha inside of him as he only felt his cock stiffen even more.

"Fuck it." He mumbled, giving you exactly ome second to take im his words before he grabbed you.

"Fucking Omega's." He grumbled, ignoring your cry of surprise as he threw you over his shoulder.

"I hope you know that I am not going to stop, no matter how much you beg. You wanna act like a bitch in heat? Then I'll stuff you full of my pups like the slut you are."

[hereforchifuyu]

chapter two

its mr. 305

one day soon ill link all the chapters. today is not that day. anyways enjoy :)

I'd see one of them on the street and then all of a sudden the rest show up and like??? Did you guys teleport or something?? I'd been evading them pretty well, and by that I mean I started sprinting in the opposite direction of wherever I thought they were (and nine times out of ten, it wasn't even them), but the one time i decide to try and take the short way to where i was staying I got caught. I think this is a higher being telling me to exercise but I don't know.

Like I said, I was just trying to get in time for where I was going (a potential job interview sighs) and I heard a shout from...somewhere telling me to stop, or wait up, or something like that, but I hadn't connected with anyone so I did the obvious thing and ran like my life depended on it.

I was lucky I wasn't carrying anything, but also unlucky because my phone was in my pocket and I couldn't exactly lose that, so i was running with my hand grasping my phone while it was in pocket, which makes for a very awkward-looking run.

In the end, whoever was chasing me caught up, and apparently it was more than one person?? Like a whole group somehow ended up chasing me even though I only heard one voice yell/shout at me.

"There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!" It was a blond in front who said that. I couldn't really see anything that was going on and was about three seconds from just risking it all and taking my phone out to turn the flash on. Darkness and I had a bad history.

What. What? What??? Why would you tell someone that. While they were in an alley, where crimes infamously take place.

"Do you even realize what you just said?" I said with a deadpan. My head whipped around at the sound of scuttling, giving up on being careful and bringing my phone out to turn on the flash. Turns out it was just some trash moving from the wind or something. "Why the hell—y'know what, I'm not even gonna complain. Just gonna accept the fate that has been handed to me."

I turned around just to scream, accidentaly forgetting the group of people were there, which made (some of) them scream, which made me scream, so it was just us screaming in an alley for a bit.

It stopped when a really tall guy stepped forward which shut them, which shut me up, and made me remember that, oh yeah I have a flash I could use to actually see them. Smooth brain moment.

I turned my flash (that I forgot to turn of haha #girlboss) towards them which made them jump at the sudden exposure of light, making me giggle a little, before I actually saw who it was and immediately deadpanned, realising exactly who was chasing me.

How many times do I have to ask for forgiveness for the thing that I did when I was six for you to actually forgive me. Cries.

"Oh shit, it's mr. clean lol."

"Did you just say...lol out loud?" Said (mr. clean) Draken.

"lol"

Hanagaki shook his head, before calling out my name, gaining my (and everyone elses #fanbehavior) attention. "How did you get the ambulence to come so quickly? On that night, a couple weeks ago?" Ah shit, why did he have to bring it up so fast, no introductions or anything.

Time to bullshit my way out of this. "Oh I heard sounds of fighting by the parking lot, and when I ran off to try and find where I was, I found mr. clean and company looking worse for wear, so yeah." I should for sure be nominated for an Oscar my acting is superb. Better than any actor out there. "Anyways, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back home, I have some things to take care of."

I took not even two steps before someone stopped me. It was Hanagaki, which was a little disappointing. "Actually, I do mind. Do you mind if we come with you? I swear I have good intentions." My eyes widened at his words.

"Do you know how sus you sound right now? Hmm...sus...sussy...A M O N G U S..." I tried to back away, but his grip was tight, surprising for his little twig arms.

They looked like toothpicks.

"Uh...I'll back him up. Besides Takemicchy has a girlfriend, and I don't think he's gonna be cheating on her anytime soon." I turned my head to where the voice came from just to see Mitsuya, honestly I could die happy now.

"Oh yeah for sure. If pretty man says its ok, then everything is good." I said with a smile. Simp.

"...You're just gonna agree? Just like that?" Questioned Hanagaki.

"Oh yeah. Like I said, if pretty man says its ok, I trust him with my life, so." I stared blankly at the group, waiting for them to start moving so I could go back to the place I (stole) was staying at. Also somehow they didnt notice my phone even though it was one of the main sources of light in the alley like 🤨 but okay. "So are you gonna move out of the way or no? 'Cuz I need to get back to my place, and apparently you guys wanna come with for whatever reason."

They moved out of the way (simoultaniously too, hella creepy) and let me lead the way.

I started walking off to my place, hearing the creepy sounds of people following me, but i shrugged it off and plugged in my earphones so I could listen to music, which they did not, in fact, fail to notice.

Mitsuya came up to me and asked what I was listening to. I decided 'Fuck it.' and gave him an earphone. He put it in his ear, and I might've forgotten to tell him it was super loud because as soon as I pressed play he flinched. Haha. I guess im just used to the volume (and to destroying my eardrums) that it doesn't affect me anymore.

"I apologize sincerely, I didn't know that you had inferior eardrums to me." I tried walking off after that but he grabbed my arm (made me blush a little) and looked at me weird.

"What do you mean 'inferior eardrums'? How can someone have inferior eardrums?"

"Oh heres how: you listen to really loud music your whole life, and then whenever you think its quiet, you turn the music up. And soon, you can't be in anyform of quiet without music/your brain being stimulated in general or you feel like you're gonna go deaf with how quiet it is." They all stared at me blankly, likely thinking 'what the absolute fuck' right now.

"How do—nevermind. How long is it until we reach your place?"

Aw, he's so sweet. I coughed before turning to gim and saying, "Uhm like...two minutes if we run really fast. Why?"

"How do you know the running time?"

"When you run from your problems (and people) you begin to be able to know the time of things like that."

"Oh."

I nodded my head before taking off. Not to get away from them, just because I wanted to. They shouted from where they were behind me before quickly catching up. Fucking long legged people.

After two minutes of running (like I predicted) we made it to where I was staying. It was just a glorified warehouse that took me almost a week to make it look presentable.

I walked in, hip-checking the door to get it open wider.

"And this, fellow comrades, is my humble abode."

[illfoandillfie]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summery: Roger’s delayed getting home from tour.

Warnings: SMUT (18+),but it’s like light smut lmao,cock warming,morning sex,just like some fluffy bullshit really

Words: 2326

A/N: Been a lil minute since I wrote Rog and I kinda missed him. this idea came to me last week and wouldn't leave me alone lmao

Taglist: @laedymoon​ @dtfrogertaylor​ @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon​ @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @supersonicfreddie​ @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​

It had been a couple of months since you’d seen Roger face to face. The biggest downside of dating a rock star was dealing with his absence. Everyone seemed insistent on dragging him away from you, often to the other side of the world. You took comfort knowing he missed you as much as you missed him, and that he was leaving you to live out his lifelong dream. What could be more important than that? When he was away, he called frequently to check in with you. You’d laugh about whatever drama he’d had to endure during rehearsal (though privately you were sure he exaggerated) and then you’d tell him all about what he was missing back home. But the further into the tour he got, the more the calls changed. Gone were the long conversations that unpacked every minute aspect of your day. They were replaced with long conversations that answered the question how was your day? in the first five minutes and dedicated the rest of the time to talk of possible ways to celebrate his eventual return, growing steadily filthier. The problem was that, having moved in together, you’d become accustomed to a certain amount of physical intimacy that you just weren’t getting without Roger there. You missed being able to startle him by laying ice cold hands against the back of his neck, missed cuddling up with him on the couch. You even missed the way he’d pinch your bum as he hugged you, laughing when you squealed in response and batted his chest with your palm. Of course, you missed the sex too. He’d always claimed to be a good lay and, so far, he hadn’t disappointed you. It wasn’t always easy to unwind after a long or hard day of work without being able to grab Roger by the hand and pull him into the bedroom for a few hours, and sometimes the forced abstinence just added to any tensions or stresses you were already dealing with. Plus it was nice to have someone you enjoyed having sex with, who liked making you feel good, and it kind of just sucked to lose that. So being stuck with nothing but your imagination soon had you desperate for Roger’s return and he seemed to feel the same. By the end of the tour you’d abandoned all pretence and we just having straight up phone sex every other night, Roger locked away in his hotel room, you wherever you’d happened to pick up the phone – bedroom or kitchen or lounge room, it didn’t matter.

There was some mild embarrassment at the thought of what may be said of you if anyone were to overhear. Things mentioned in the heat of the moment often seemed silly after you’d hung up, the fog of needy lust subsiding. But while you were on the phone you couldn’t care less who heard what, as long as Roger was there, listening to you, describing his own ideas in response. It was good that Roger had just as large a disregard for anyone else’s ears as you because you were sure one of the boys would be in the room next to his, probably able to hear everything he said. Perhaps if they’d been able to hear your voice, your moans, you would have been more concerned, but you were alone on your end of the line, free to be as loud as you liked. And when you were lying in bed, one hand shoved down the front of your pants, listening to Roger describe how he wanted to fuck you, loud is exactly what you were. The hand that wasn’t pressed to your clit held the phone held tight to your ear, as if loosening your grip would shake you loose from Roger himself.

“Christ I miss your cunt,” he groaned down the line, the sound of his hand sliding over his dick audible beneath his words, “tell me you miss my cock,”

“God yes Rog,” you whined, a little startled by just how much you meant it. “Miss how you fuck me. My fingers are fucking shit compared to the way it feels when you fill me,”

“Shit, love. The second I see you I’m going to slide into your pussy and just stay there for as long as I can.”

“I’ll squeeze down on you,” you warned, not in the mood to think about being full and unfucked.

“Good. I’ll cum in you and then stay there until you’re squirming and begging and I’m hard enough to pound you. Fuck you so loud the neighbours complain. Might even keep myself stuffed inside you until I can start round three.”

“Jesus Rog,”

“You like the sound of that? Being my own personal cock sleeve?”

“Mmhmm, so much. You could live in me. Just stay inside me forever, fucking me and pumping me full of cum over and over.”

“Fuck. I can hear how wet you are.”

So it usually went, or something similar.

But, unfortunately, your most recent phone call was nowhere near as fun. Roger had meant to be home by six. You’d been excited and spent the afternoon getting things ready. A nice hot bath with your favourite scents, fresh sheets for you to ruin the minute he walked in the door, a bottle of wine for afterwards. It would pair nicely with the steaks and sides you’d prepped – all easy and fast to cook as soon as you’d recovered enough. You even put on some of your nicest underwear. Not your fanciest lingerie because it was likely to be torn in his haste to undress you, but it was a matching set and one you knew he liked. But six o’clock came and went and he didn’t walk in the door. Enough time passed that you’d gotten cold waiting in just your undies, so you’d thrown a robe over the top and settled in front of the TV under a blanket. But it was hard to relax when you didn’t know where Roger was or why he hadn’t come home when he said he would. After a few more hours the phone rang and you raced to it, slightly worried you were about to hear something devastating. You sighed in relief at the sound of Roger’s voice but he didn’t have much time to chat. He rushed out an explanation for his being late – something about a weather delay and missing luggage – and then hung up again. A little upset at having to wait even longer to see him, and that your night had been ruined, you fixed yourself a quick dinner, leaving the steaks for the next day instead. You didn’t change though, just in case, your head flicking towards the front door at every little sound. It was late when you finally decided to call it a night, stumbling up to your room, not even bothering to change into pyjamas before you slipped under the covers.

The next thing you knew was being woken by someone climbing into bed next to you, the chill of his fingers making you shiver as he brushed hair off your face. You cracked an eye open, but the sun hadn’t risen and it was hard to see more than a vague outline, Roger’s quick apology for waking you confirmation of who he was. He felt you move to try and get a better look and softly told you to go back to sleep. Instead you waited for him to finish undressing and then shuffled closer, reaching out for him. He let you wrap your arms around him, repaid you with a soft kiss.

“You’re home,” you mumbled, not fully awake.

“Finally. Sorry I’m late,” his voice was low and rough and comforting to hear, right beside your ear, undistorted by connection issues and distance, “Fucking terrible night. But I’m glad to see you again.”

“Not quite the welcome I’d planned,” you said through a yawn.

He laughed softly and kissed the tip of your nose, “Me neither.”

“I got all dressed up and everything,”

Roger raised the blankets into the air, peaking under, trying to see what you meant, letting out a low whistle and a “now I really wish I’d been here sooner,” though you weren’t convinced he could actually see the set through the grey black of the early hour.

You laughed sleepily and raised a hand to stroke his cheek as he fell back to the pillow.

“I was thinking about you the whole way home,” he broke off to yawn, “Had to have a quick wank halfway across the Atlantic,” he yawned again and let his eyes shut for a moment, blinking them back open to look at you with a hint of his cheeky grin.

“Remember when you said you’d fuck me as soon as you saw me,”

“Not sure I have the energy for that. Don’t think you do either.”

You hummed in agreement, the sandman tugging at the corners of your brain, but there was another idea there too. Something more insistent. You tightened your grip on Roger, adjusted yourself to be more comfortable, pulled his head closer to the crook of your neck, able to feel his warm breath on your bare skin. “Kinda want you inside me anyway, Rog.”

“Really?”

The more you thought about it the more you wanted it. You’d missed his presence in the house, the smell of his shampoo and his cigarettes and his aftershave all mixed together, the way his laugh could fill a room, how it felt to sit in the backyard on a warm day and listen to him plucking at one of his guitars, the way he smiled when he said he loved you. And now that he was back all you wanted was to keep him close, listen to his every breath, feel his hair tickling your neck, the scratch of his stubble before he shaved, his warmth seeping into your skin. Just lying beside him wasn’t enough. You wanted to drown in him, completely and utterly surround yourself in him. But that was too hard to explain so early in the day, when you’d had only a couple hours sleep and he seemed to be running on even less. So you replied with a short, “Mmhmm,” lilting upward, and dropped your lips to the top of his head.

“You sure?” his question was an exhale against your throat, fingertips dancing closer to the waistband of your knickers.

“Positive. Just for a bit, please,”

He stifled another yawn as he pushed your underwear down, letting you kick them off one foot as he got rid of his own. There was a pause as he ran his hand along his length in long lazy strokes, a needy whine caught on the tip of your tongue as you waited. But it died there, replaced by a gasp as he pulled your leg over him and slowly sunk into you. Your fingers tightened where they lay and you felt his groan as vibrations against your throat as he filled you inch by inch.

“You okay?”

“Perfect,” you whispered back, “Welcome home.”

Roger hummed and breathed deep, taking a moment to wiggle into a slightly more comfortable position, hitching your leg up a little higher, tilting your head down so he could find your lips again. You saw his eyes flutter shut as he relaxed into the pillows, content to just stay like that until he could summon the energy to do more. You let your own eyes shut too, relishing the way it felt to be stretched around him, listening to his breaths slowing down and evening out.  

It was Roger’s groan that made you stir. An almost desperate sound, though he tried to keep it quiet. Slowly you blinked your eyes open, trying to tell whether Roger was awake yet too, or whether the noise was made in his sleep. You could see him clearer now, the bags under his eyes, the ruffled unkempt look of his hair. Your leg was still slung over him, slipped a little from where he’d placed it, and without thinking you made to move it back. Roger groaned again as a small gasp left you, the full memory of what had happened the previous night returning to you. It was weird, waking up so full, but not unpleasant.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “you up?”

“Mmhmm,”

“Love, do that again and we’re going to have a mess to clean up,” he warned, softly.

“How long you been awake?”

“Not long. But you’ve been clenching around me a bit in your sleep and I’m so close.” The last two words were almost pained and you briefly considered moving, letting Roger go so he could calm down sufficiently. But you were comfortable and happy wrapped around him and the memory of your phone calls nagged at the back of your mind, “You can let go,”

“What?”

“I’m… what’d you call me…your personal cock sleeve? So let go,”

Roger stared at you, eyes wide though still tired looking, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. But, when you didn’t take it back he leaned in to kiss you, rocking his hips against you slowly, letting out a low noise as you felt him empty inside you. You kissed him in return, stroked his cheek as he calmed down. Just for a moment you let your eyes slip shut again, basking in the feeling of it all. When you looked back at Roger he was still staring.

“I love you,”

“Good, I don’t plan on letting you leave this bed much today,”

“Sounds good to me,” he laughed softly, following it with a hiss when you intentionally clenched on his sensitive dick again, “wait, wait love, give me like another minute.”

You apologised and settled for another kiss instead, leaving a few extra along his jaw until he was able to make good on his earlier promises.

[ayellowcurtain]

Can you write more about alpha Sander and him being friends with Senne? 

please write more of the abo au, im obsessed with the whole robbe/sander/britt. Like maybe a moment where robbe feels pushed over the edge? like he cant take anymore that sander doesnt choose him alone?

you could add Sander ending Britt and she for revenge looks for Sander again making Robbe see them making them separate, but then reconsider and come back.

Part 3 or 4, idk

Sander is not a good person. He cares deeply for Robbe, maybe he was impulsive when he bit him, but he doesn’t regret it for one second, Robbe is and will always be the one. The thing is: Sander sometimes likes to make dumb, dumb decisions based on nothing but his instant needs.

He needs to settle down already or to take it easy, but then he’s at a party, and Britt is constantly all over him, waiting for him to do something about it and they’ve been drinking together for a few hours, talking and flirting. And Sander is really not trying, but it’s just natural. Before he can think he’s already falling for the flirting game that Britt taught him to be a master in.

Like always, they end up stumbling their way to the second floor of Senne’s place, Sander touching the wall behind Britt until he finds an unlocked door that he opens and pushes her inside, locking the door behind him, quickly getting rid of his clothes with her help.

-

Robbe is not answering his texts or calls. Sander tries not to worry, but with every minute without an answer, he starts to get even more anxious. Why is it always like this with them?

Things with Britt were different last time. His body is still sore from all the scratching and for how long they went, so many rounds Sander lost count. Sander knows her well and she was very vocal about what she wanted, but that he can’t give her.

Sander doesn’t plan on being a dad any time soon. And when he said it was just goodbye sex, she was pissed. Britt is also really bad at hiding her emotions and Sander knew a thunderstorm was coming his way when he didn’t do as she wanted, but he was determined to stay as far away as possible from Britt from now on. For his sake and for Robbe’s, but it was too late.

Robbe knows about what happened, Sander feels it like it’s his own emotions. This is the worst part about being connected to Robbe: he knows the pain he not so accidentally caused.

He wasn’t planning on telling Robbe, even if it’s hard these days to keep any type of secret between them. Even though they’re in love, Sander doesn’t feel like he needs to tell his every action. Robbe knows how he is, this shouldn’t be a surprise. They’re young and have their entire lives to be together, Robbe is living his life too.

Please, Robbe, just pick up your fucking phone. Please?

Sander sighs, hanging up without being able to reach Robbe again. He almost goes to Britt’s place, asking nicely for her to stay away from Robbe, but there’s no point in that. The damage is already done. Sander knows she went to Robbe to try and ruin what they have.

-

Robbe is at his place, Sander can smell him, almost sure he’s right behind the door, choosing not to open it, but Sander needs to talk to him, so he knocks again, inhaling sharply, not totally comfortable in forcing Robbe to do things he doesn’t want to, but he won’t go home before they talk.

“Robbe, open the door.” He takes his hands off the door when he hears Robbe unlocking it, opening against his will, just because Sander said he had to.

“What are you doing here?”

Sander feels all his insides writhe as he sees Robbe after a few days. His eyes are red and swollen from crying, talking with a choked voice. “Robbe, you know that’s what she wants, that’s why she came here to tell you everything. You’re giving her exactly what she wants!”

“You? Yeah, she can have it. I’m not willing to waste my life for your love.” Robbe tries to walk away, but Sander holds his hand, keeping him close.

“You know you don’t mean that. I’m yours and you’re mine.” Sander puts his other hand on Robbe’s chest, where he feels the scar he left months and months ago. Not as a threat, but as a reminder that nobody else has this, they’re different.

“Why are you still fucking her then?” Sander sighs loudly, stepping back, still holding Robbe by his fingertips.

“Because! Robbe, we’re so fucking young. Do you really want to spend 50, 60 years just with me? Not knowing anyone else? Not living your youth because you’re stuck with me? You’re even younger, needs to live your life, we’re gonna be together in the end, no matter what.”

Robbe snorts, stepping back, shaking his head. “This is so much bullshit! What kind of thought is that? I don’t want just the end, I want all of it.”

Sander tries to think about what to say, but he just stutters, trying to understand what kind of feeling Robbe brings out of him. He’s never seen Robbe like this, so serious and hurt, and because of him. He never felt like this before, Sander doesn’t even know what this is.

Robbe looks down and Sander’s anxiety starts to get the best of him, making his ears ring. “Is it true that you breeded her?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Robbe is instantly relieved, but not at all happy yet and Sander just wants them to be ok. “We had sex, Robbe, that was it. I used a condom, I’m not that dumb.”

Robbe quietly pulls his hand away, walking to his kitchen in silence.

They’ve been playing this game of push and pull for too long, over a year and they went through some crazy times. Sander’s life changed a lot because of Robbe and their relationship. Anyone before and after Robbe was just fun, just a way to put his energy out, Senne went from a threat to his closest friend, knowing too much about Sander’s feelings for Robbe because, apparently, their smells are constantly mixed nowadays.

Only when he gets to the kitchen that he smells the pasta that Robbe was making, putting spices and cheese inside the pan, stirring a little too quickly. Sander walks carefully to him, resting his forehead against the back of Robbe’s head, pressing his nose against the nape of his neck.

“I’m sorry again. Always.” He whispers, trying to calm his breaths, closing his eyes and just enjoying being this close to Robbe, smelling his every emotion, even the bad ones. Sander will gladly accept all of them.

“I’m tired of your excuses.”

“I know.” Sander thinks that he can’t risk this, to hurt Robbe so much he gives up eventually. “Do you want me to stop? I won’t kiss anyone else, have sex with anyone else but you.”

Robbe stops stirring his pasta, looking over his shoulder after a second. Sander knows he’s offering a promise that’s hard for him to keep, but he’s more than willing to try if that makes Robbe happy.

“Would you?” He raises his eyebrows, turning his body slowly to face Sander, making him step back, already rethinking his words. “Not even flirting with people?”

Sander huffs a laughter, looking into Robbe’s eyes. “If that’s what you want, yes.”

Robbe’s excitement fades away a little bit and he sighs, shaking his head. “It’s not me who needs to want this, Sander.”

Sander steps back, not knowing what else to say or do to make Robbe believe him. “Fuck, Robbe…I know! Just give me something to work with.”

He thinks for a second, meeting Sander’s eyes again as he answers, “Yes. I want that.”

“So consider it done.” Robbe raises his eyebrows, his cheeks slowly turning a soft pink, his inside getting warmer, softer and Sander laughs, quietly coming closer again. Robbe and his feelings have just that much power over him. “Now, we can forget about the rest of the world and maybe eat something?”

[descendantofthesparrow]

Deaf! Harry Hook x Reader - first voice

Key:

h/c- hair color

e/c- eye color

s/c- skin color

y/n- your name

“talking”

“signing”

“talking while signing”

‘thought’

“lip reading”

---narrator pov---

ever since he was little, Harry had been unable to Hear the world around him, he could see, taste, smell, and touch just fine. but he couldn't hear...you see Harry was deaf, now he wasn't born deaf, no no no, an accident happened.

now when Harry was 7, he was on the jolly roger when a rival pirate crew ambushed his father's crew and took Harry hostage, and when the one holding him got tackled, Harry got sent to the floor and his head hit the floor and caused something connected to his ears in his brain to be disconnected, he blacked out and when he awoke, his sisters and uncle Smee standing over him, seemingly talking but...they weren't? he couldn't hear anything.

as he stared at them like they were crazy, Smee figured something out and tested it by secretly snapping his fingers directly next to Harry's ear, and...nothing. no reaction, saddened by the poor boy's fate, he grabbed a writing device and wrote

“Harrison my boy, I’m so sorry, but you’re deaf now.”

Harry, tried to tell him off, but when he spoke, he couldn't hear himself, he could feel the rumble of his voice, but...no voice. Harry couldn't believe it, he jumped out of bed and ran off, needing to get away from everything for a moment. so he ran, ran past the usually noisy gaston fight bar. nothing. ran past the screeching witches. nothing.

nothing

nothing

nothing!

collapsing on the beach he felt something burning at the back of his eyes, flooding over and streaking down his face. pressing his hand to his face he felt wetness

'tears, of course'

Harry let them run, he was allowed to, he couldn't hear any more for fuck's sake he could burn down a village if he wanted to.

so he cried, and cried, and cried.

Smee found him three hours later, curled up asleep on the beach, eyes red and puffy, tears long dried up on his cheeks. he picked him up and took him back to the ship.

---

Uma found out sooner than later and when she did she refused to leave his side for a week before her mother pulled her away, screaming her head off.

fortunately, Mal didn't find out, along with almost all the Isle, the only people who knew Harry was deaf were his dad, sisters, uncle Smee, Gil, Uma, and Yen Sid.

Now Yen Sid found out Harry was Deaf when Harry came to class, and whenever he called on Harry, he wouldn't respond till Uma shoved him and showed him a piece of paper written down with what he was asking on it. Harry also seemed to be more sluggish in his talking, as if he couldn't hear what he was trying to say, so he confronted Harry, and after Harry confirmed it, Yen decided he would teach Harry ASL, Auradon Sign Language. along with teaching Uma as well, who taught it to Gil.

over the years Harry had mastered ASL and lip reading. Yen Sid had also forced Harry to undergo speech therapy, knowing Harry would need to keep a reputation and for that, he would need to talk so Harry could talk just as he would if he could hear, and when he was around his family or friends that knew, he would simultaneously sign. it was just easier. he also learned a lot of ASL swear words.

so now the backstory is set, let us go on to the story.

----

Harry sat in the chip shop watching the entrance carefully, Uma had yet to return and he was getting anxious, tapping his hands on the table. The crew around him also being anxious, Gil soon took noticed and tapped Harry on the shoulder, Harry jumped and turned to Gil, who started to move his hands around, a worried look on his face.

“Hey, are you okay? you’re really jumpy”

Harry sighed and pressed his pinkie and ring fingers into his palm and pointed his index and middle finger out and pressed them together with his thumb, opening and closing them. “no” Gil made a face and signed “why?”

“Uma, I don't know where she is and im getting worried” Gil made an “oh” shape and nodded signing “don't worry Harry its Uma, we have nothing to worry about” Harry furrowed his brows but nodded pressing his fingers to his chin and extended his hand to Gil, a soft smile on his face.

“thank you”

all of a sudden bonny tapped the table five times causing vibrations in the table, alerting Harry. harry and the crew straitened and looked to the entrance, Harry let out a harsh breath, Auradon messengers. the one in the front walked forward and handed Him and Gil a scroll, both glanced at each other

‘His Royal Majesty, King Ben of Auradon, and his counselor Ms.Evie of the Isle hereby request the pleasure of your company, Harry Hook, for the current academic year at Auradon Prep. please notify his Majesty’s couriers of your response of his request.

I should have done this sooner, I'm sorry, please come.

King Ben.

PS. we are still looking for Uma, if she is found she will also be given an invitation, I promise.’

Harry bit his lip and glanced over at Gils which entailed the same words with a few exceptions. Harry looked over to the couriers and carefully spoke as not to reveal his disability.

“we accept”

---

Harry made a face at Gil as he stuffed his face with the limo sweets, Gil turned to him and raised his brow

“what?” Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed a cherry lollipop. ripping it open and popping it in his mouth he looked outside the car window, pausing when the cherry syrup hit his tastebuds, feeling his throat rumble, he realized he probably just moaned at the taste, turning he saw Gil laughing, getting control of himself Gil signed to Harry

“dude, did it taste THAT good?”

all Harry did was give the bird, causing Gil to double over laughing again.

soon they arrived at the school and the boys looked at each other and Gil signed “don't worry, I’ll be right here if anybody talks to fast ill fill you in later” Harry pressed his fingers to his chin and extended his hand outward to Gil, 

“thank you” Gil nodded and said “you’re welcome Harry”

the two clambered out of the limo and saw, Ben, Mal, Evie, Carlos, Jay, a band (which Harry couldn't Hear, one of the few times Harry was glad he was deaf), and Fairy Godmother. FG opened her mouth and began her speech but she was talking at a speed Harry couldn't lip read so he just looked around when someone caught his eye, a (h/c) (s/c) girl was walking into the dorm building and she turned and her (e/c) eyes caught his and she gave a shy smile and waved before continuing her way into the building.

‘well,’ Harry thought following Ben and Mal lead the way for a tour, ‘shes interesting’

...

‘i wonder what her name is’

---

over the next two months, Harry made sure no one would be able to deduce the fact that he was deaf, though many Auradonians made that hard sometimes, like facing away from him as they talked preventing him from lip reading, he did notice that there were some other deaf people here, who also used ASL, Gil tried to convince him to introduce himself to them but he refused, not sure that they wouldn't tell FG and Ben. so he was doing...okay, except there was that one girl that he saw on his first day here, Gil had met her in home ec class and had said that her name was (y/n) and was really nice and he should get to know her, Gil also said that he should tell Ben and FG about the deaf situation, they would understand. 

all Harry said was “bullshit”...at least to the Ben and FG thing, as for the (y/n) thing....goddammit fine he’d get to know her.

only thing was..when he met her in the place Gil set up,...she talked yeah...but she also signed. Harry blanched and hurriedly asked her how she knew he was deaf. she signed/said

“well, whenever someone tries to talk to you, and they are behind you, you don't respond till either someone alerts you or they touch you. and FG also brought it up with me, as im one of the only really fluent ASL speakers on campus, soooo yeah”

Harry simply stared at her until he realized that...Fairy godmother knew

“what FG knows!?”

“well, not really, she has a hunch, she wanted me or Gil to tell her but both of us think you should be the one to tell her, it is your disability”

well, it kinda made sense, FG had always been enunciating her words, she might have done that so Harry could read her lips.

he felt (y/n) tug his jacket, looking up at her he saw her smile and she pointed at him, pointed at herself, and clasp her hands together in a motion that Harry had only seen Yen Sid do while teaching him ASL.

“you, me, friends?”

Harry gaped at her, before nodding slowly, his face heating up. she smiled brightly, closing her eyes and laughing. and in just that motion, Harry realized how adorable this girl was.

‘godammit, I’m not trained to deal with this much adorableness’

and from that day forward, (y/n) joined their duo, making it a trio once more, Harry finally noticing that she was in all of their classes and Gil had forced her to move her seat to the one directly next to Harry. so by forced association and newfound friendship, he and (y/n) were getting to know each other. and slowly...Harry was falling for the (h/c), (e/c) cutie/beauty.

first, he was amused.-

he liked to tease her, and when he did, she puffed her cheeks and he liked to squeeze them and make the air pop out. and when he visits her in cooking class she’d have whatever she was cooking/baking with all over her apron and face, and she'd toss some him, many a time creating a food fight. and like a little evil mastermind, used his deafness to her advantage (it was one of the few times he didn't mind someone doing that), recruiting Gil and hounding him with chocolate and flour.

then, he was impressed-

he had attended a viewing of R.O.A.R tryouts, and there was a particular fighter that had swamped all the others with ease, flipping, pk rolling, clearly an expert in both defense and offense, easily beating Jay, the dick head chad, and the actually cool chick Lonnie. and when the fighter revealed themselves, Harry almost tripped. (y/n), it was (y/n). she saw him in the upstairs viewpoint, grinned and gave him a thumbs up, Harry giving one in return.

...

yeah, she got in. goddamnit, she’s awesome.

finally, he was smitten.-

he fell, oh geez he fell hard, he’d fallen for her rhythmic tapping of her fingers on his wrist, he’d fallen for the way she took his hand and pressed it to her throat/chest to feel her voice as she sang her favorite songs, he’d fallen for the way she jumped excitedly as she presented a dessert she’d thought he’d like after working on it for hours. how’d she write notes for classes of a teacher who never spoke to the class facing forward for him, how’d she naturally speak and sign at the same time so Harry could understand her, how’d she stay up late with him and Gil and help them understand remedial goodness and math.

just...she had become a lighthouse, in the storm of his life, she had even understood his devotion to Uma, even volunteering to go help look for her.

one day he realized, if he would possibly hear again, her voice would be the first voice he’d want to hear.

--the end!!...?--

I’m going to be doing two endings to this,

-the slight angst with fluff ending where Harry regains his hearing in a similar way that he lost it, hitting his head-

-the fluffiest ending where FG tells Harry about hearing aids and Harry goes for it and he hears for the first time in 10-11 years-

note: there will be crying in both endings, not telling you who cries.

Links are making this story not show up in tumblr search bar, so if fluff ending and angst ending are wanted to be read go to my page and type in first voice.

[sunflowerkiszka]

20 and 21 of the dialogue prompts with Sammy👀

Are we gonna do this or what? -sammy kiszka imagine

pairing: sammy x reader

a/n: dialogue promps 20 & 21 <3 idk if u wanted ur name in it or not so im just using y/n

"Yeah, well that's why I'm gonna go fuck your brother tonight." & "You just think you're so cute don't you."

genre: flirt/angst???

word count: a little over 2,000

summary: reader surprises sammy after a show and he's ready to take their flirtationship to the next level, but she's not due to fear and it hurts him more than she expected

warnings: alcohol & swearing

❁ ENJOY ❁

Sam and you had always had a flirtatious relationship, but you guys never acted upon it. Tonight you were surprising him and his brothers at their concert to see them for the first time in two months.

You don't get to see them perform often, but you spend as much time with them as you can when they have breaks.

Sam only really dressed up when he was on stage. He wore jeans to his own graduation. This being said, when he emerged onto the stage in those tight red silk pants and silk open button down with the puffy shoulders, you could barely contain yourself. (never forget this fit he's so cute)

His bass face turned you on majorly, the way he connected to the music and let it completely take over him, not even caring about the weird faces he managed to pull.

He ended up taking his shirt off before he sat down on the keys for Age of Man. It was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen and you almost cried in your friend Zoe's arms. Thanks to the alcohol.

Once the show was over you waited backstage for the boys. There was an arrangement of different alcohol on the table in the middle of the room and you quickly finished your beer so you could catch up before they came in.

"How do I look?" you turned to Zoe and smoothed your hair.

She looked you up and down before raising her brows and pursing her lips, "If Sammy doesn't fuck you, I will."

You throw your head back in laughter and lightly shove her shoulder back. You dressed a little extra sexy since this was a surprise even though Sam wouldn't care what the hell you showed up in, he'd just be glad you were there.

"Sshhh, dude, you're gonna give it away," Alex hissed. He was your favorite roadie. "Here, come over here so they won't see you." He guides you and Zoe so you are out of sight from the door and you can hear the boys approaching loudly.

The sounds of their laughter brings a huge smile to your face. "Bitch!" you whisper to Zoe while shaking her and she stifles her laughter.

Jake sees you first and you're just glad it wasn't Josh because he'd spoil the surprise. He smiles and turns Sam away from you so you can come up behind him. Josh's face lights up when you make eye contact and you put your finger up to your mouth so he'll get the memo.

"Guess who," you half sing, half laugh while hovering your fingers over his eyes.

He screams with excitement because you he already knows that it's you. "Y/N, you beautiful son of a bitch!" He spins around and engulfs your head in his large hands before planting a sloppy kiss on the center of your forehead, causing you to laugh.

"Beautiful son of a bitch?" you say through your huge grin and bring your arms to his neck.

He picked you up and spun you around while placing kisses all over your face.

"Young love," Josh sighs and wipes a fake tear from his eye.

"I missed you so much, sunshine," he whispers into your hair, sending chills down your spine.

"I missed you, Sammy," you breathed.

Even though you guys weren't dating, everyone around you knew that what you shared was more than a friendship. You just couldn't be together because of his hectic lifestyle that never seemed to slow down. Even during breaks, everytime it seemed as though right when he finally settled, he was up and gone all over again for months at a time.

You just couldn't take it. Your logic was that if you never kissed him or anything, you wouldn't be able to miss the feeling while he was away, but it didn't really help.

And believe me, has he tried. He always laughed it off whenever you'd push his face away, but it hurt because you both longed for each other.

"Alright enough of this shit," Jake steps past us and picks up a bottle of whiskey from the table.

"Hey!" Zoe screams into the air as she makes her way to the drinks and Josh joins her soon after. You think Josh is crazy as it is, wait until you see him and Zoe together. She thought he was hilarious and always fed off of his abundance of energy.

They begin making different combinations of drinks and you were ready to get fucked up.

Josh puts an arm around you and lifts up a plastic cup with a concoction in it to your nose and you nearly gag. This," he pulls it back towards him, "Is a dangerous elixir. Drink at your own risk."

"Who said I wanted to drink that?" you point at it and giggle.

He gave you a look that let you know he knew you were bullshitting.

"Okay... I do want to drink it," you laughed. You were always up for a good time.

Jake snuck in a hug from behind, "Missed you Y/N." He planted a kiss into your hair. You patted his arm and took the drink from Josh.

"No, I missed you," you put your finger on his nose before bringing the cup to your mouth.

Sammy put on a King Gizzard song most likely because he knew you loved them and you involuntarily began to sway to the music. You guys couldn't stay in the venue for too long before you had to go to the hotel, but that didn't stop you from pouring another drink.

You just hoped you would be able to walk when the time came.

"So what made you come tonight? Did you miss me so much you just couldn't resist?" Sammy teases and places his hands at your waist.

"Oh, I can resist," you placed your hands on top of his and he pulled you closer.

"Yeah?" he challenged.

You study the smug look on his face. His lips are slightly pursed and one of his brows sits higher than the other as his eyes flicker across your face. A smile creeps up onto his mouth and you shake your head, "You just think you're so cute, don't you?" you say.

"Well you sure do," he laughs, earning an eye roll from you and you pushed his hands off you.

"I'm not gonna lie, those pants are hot," you mention before leaning back and sipping your drink. You could see his bulge press through the tight material and you were eager to tease him.

He flicked his head to the side to move his hair out of his face and his tongue sat on his top lip.He looks you up and down. "Yours could use some work," he jokes slyly.

You look down at your short skirt and crack a smile, "Yeah? Well that's why I'm gonna go fuck your brother tonight in it."

He brings his bottom lip to his teeth and laughs before turning away, "Have fun with that."

So he's gonna make this a chase. He's gonna have to do the chasing because it sure as hell won't be you.

You decide to walk over to Jake, since if you even thought about fake flirting with Josh you'd laugh instantly.

"Jake," you sat next to him and your legs overlapped a little bit, "Pretend to flirt with me."

This caused him to smile widely cause he knew what you guys were up to, "When will you guys just date already?"

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night, "That's easier said."

He placed his hand on your thigh and Sammy caught it. His chaotic Aries energy was gonna have it with you.

"Yes," you smiled, "This is perfect."

"If Sam gets mad at me, I'm blaming this all on you," he warns with a smug look. He already knew how his brother would react. "Let me correct myself: When Sam gets mad."

Before you could even think of a response Sam was picking you up and guiding you away from everyone else.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" he squints.

You shrug innocently, "You told me to have fun."

His eyes lower. You love seeing him like this because you have to admit that as much as you love it when he's bubbly and being baby, you love when he is assertive and dominant.

He places his hands on the wall on both sides of your head and traps you there, leaning over you. "I think we both know that's not what I meant," he says lowly.

You place your hands on his chest, "Well, what did you mean?"

He brings his face down to yours and stares at you intensely before slowly leaning in. You cock your head to give him more access. His soft lips connected with the corner of your mouth, but you wanted more. You looked up at him through your lashes and he instantly kissed you again, but forreal this time.

His entire body pushed up against you and you could feel him through his pants. His hands made their way to your hair and yours held his neck. He kept his movements slow, and soft, like this would be the first and last time. Would it?

He breathes heavily when he pulls back, "I've always wanted to do that."

"Me too," you quietly admit, "But you know-"

"Yeah," he pushes away from you and brings a hand up to silence you, "I know." Reality set it. "We can't keep doing this, you know. It's not fucking fair. Maybe you can handle it and play with me when you're around and pop up whenever you want, then go on with your life back home when you're bored and forget about everything, but I can't." His head shakes with his words.

You dramatically throw your head to the side, "Sammy, that's not what this is to me. I like you, I really do, but-"

"But what?" He brings his hands up while he waits for you to continue.

"But... It just hurts too bad."

"Well then maybe you should've just stayed home. And thought about someone other than just yourself for once." He starts to walk away.

OUCH.

"Sammy," you whine. What the fuck just happened. This is exactly why you never kissed him in the first place.

You hated seeing him hurt, he was just too precious. Knowing that you were the one doing the hurting made it even worse.

You spent the rest of the time at the venue basically sulking. No one asked you what happened because they all assumed it was the inevitable fight you guys were bound to have about this. Otherwise you guys never ever fought.

Sammy was no where to be seen.

"Are you guys coming back to the hotel?" Jake asked.

Zoe looked over at you and placed a manicured hand on your shoulder.

"Sure," you agreed. You had to talk to Sam. There was no way you were leaving things between you guys like this.

You were about a level five drunk and the depression joint you had smoked had brought your overall level to about a seven. You had no idea how this would turn out.

The hotel was across the street so you guys walked. Well, stumbled. When you reached the suite you piled inside.

"He's probably in his room," Jake pointed to the extended rooms. His face read 'good luck' and Zoe hugged you before they went to the living room.

Josh's eyes widened as he clenched his teeth together and flashed you the bottom row, "Eek!"

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips and you playfully punched his arm. Once he was out of sight you knocked on the door.

When you heard no answer you knocked again. "What," he said.

The door was locked.

You shut your eyes just thinking about what you did. You were a little selfish. You can't have a relationship on your own terms and you knew that Sammy was right. You felt a pang in your chest.

"It's Y/N," you sighed. Nothing. "Please open the door, Sammy," you leaned your head against the door.

After a few seconds of shuffling the door clicked open and your head shot up. You didn't even want to look at his face so you looked back down at the floor.

"What do you want?" he says. His voice is thick and horse, but quiet.

I don't even know.

"I'm sorry..." you looked at your feet. What kind of apology is this? You can't even look him in the eye. "You're right. I can't take advantage of you like that and I'm sorry that I hurt you. It wasn't fair of me..." You look up at him and his gaze is on the floor.

You softly place your fingers under his chin and force him to look at you. His eyes are glazed over and red. Either for the alcohol and weed or he was crying earlier. You leaned more towards the first option because you never really thought your role in Sam's life was that important.

"I didn't think you even cared that much to be honest," you shrugged.

His face contorted, "What do you mean you didn't think I cared?"

"I- I don't know. I just didn't. I didn't think it was that serious to you." You look in his eyes and he flickers his away.

"So.. Is it not to you?" he said shakily before finally looked back at you and putting his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes began to water.

"No, I..." you began and he took a step back. "No, I- I mean yes!" You stepped towards him and put his face in your small hands. "I'm just scared. You know that," you whisper softly.

"Well don't be, you have no reason to be afraid with me."

This made tears surface in your eyes. You knew he was right. He brought your hands to his neck and brought his thumbs to the corners of your eyes to catch the tears.

"So... are we gonna do this or what?" you say.

A smile tugs at his lips and you put your hands on top of his.

Instead of answering, he just plants a passionate kiss on your mouth, like it was the first time all over again and you two smiled into it so hard you could barely even kiss right.

A/N: well that took an awfully soft route i wasn't expecting

[dirtyahs]

Summer Break. (Tate Langdon x Reader.)

hi friends! sorry i’ve been so absent lately, school and life are kind of kicking my ass right now, but im trying to get back into the schedule of writing - i miss it a lot. i hope you guys enjoy this, you can expect to see me much more often now :^)

Thank you for the request @sydddboiiii

Prompt: “I’m going to show you exactly who you belong to.”

Word Count: 2,745

Warnings: not much, reunion sex, slightly rough, slight choking kink

It was summer break going into your Junior year of college You'd moved out of California to go to Arizona State University; it was close enough you could drive home, but still far enough that your mom and dad wouldn't be knocking on your door whenever they wanted to. And you absolutely loved college. You were having a wonderful experience and had met so many amazing people you now called your best friends. But coming home for the summer just sounded like fun this year. So here you sat, looking through your old high school year books, chuckling to yourself at all of the little notes from old friends and acquaintances. 

"Love you forever bitch!! xoxo"

"Don't ever forget the time you threw up in my moms backyard - future (Y/N), does the smell of fireball still make you sick?"

"See ya in twenty years at the reunion."

Flipping the page, one was taken up entirely by a black felt tip pen and shaky handwriting you immediately recognized. Tate Langdon. You two had dated for two and a half out of your four years of high school, you were sure you wanted to be with him forever. But then you made the decision to move to Arizona, and Tate wanted to stay in California for awhile. So you two broke things off after graduation, and you hadn't heard from him or seen him since then. He did cross your mind from time to time, wondering if he was working, or had gotten into another relationship.

Maybe you'd try to get in touch with him while you were home - the idea made your heart flutter in your chest though. You hoped he didn't cut his hair. It always looked best long. You took a deep breath - you knew Tate followed you on Instagram and had probably seen you post photos of a guy you had briefly dated at the beginning of this semester. It'd been years since your relationship with Tate, but he'd always been the jealous type.

You closed the yearbook and put it back on your bookshelf, taking up the final spot at the end of the others. The day had gone on as normal, other than the fact you couldn't get Tate out of your mind. Reliving those memories from high school made your heart race.

The time he was throwing rocks at your window, and the time you two snuck out together to get high by the beach.

You'd stolen the keys to your moms car and somehow managed to get out of the house without her noticing. You picked Tate up, he was wearing black jeans and a blue and black flannel with his old beat up Doc Martens. You two sat at the shore, wrapped in a blanket, passing what felt like an endless amount of joints until the sun started to rise. You talked about his father, and about all of your insecurities. He said he'd adore you even with your stretch marks and slightly uneven eyebrows.

Tate was romantic. He was in touch with his emotions, and it was such a rarity among most men. Every other (not that there were that many) guy you had been involved with was chivalrous and kind at the start, but quickly lost that motivation when you agreed to have sex.

Tate was never like that.

He opened every door for you, let you wear his flannel if you were cold, and always let you have some of his food even when you said you weren't hungry. About seven months in, you two lost your virginity together. You expected it to be awkward and unenjoyable; everyone said your first time always is. But to you, it didn't feel real. It felt like something out of some cheesy teen movie, but it was amazing. He was so loving and gentle. You'd never forget the way he kissed your neck and told you he loved you for the first time. 

The sun was setting now and you couldn't imagine going any more time without trying to see Tate. You looked at yourself in the mirror, wearing a black cropped tank top and denim mini skirt, you touched up your hair and grabbed your car keys. Hopefully he still lived in the same house. You got in the car and rolled all the windows down, letting the warm air blow through your hair - you had this drive memorized and could probably do it with your eyes closed if you had to. 

Everything looked the same.

The large houses were all still intact and beautiful as ever, front yards lined with rose bushes, the sound of kids playing in the street was clear. You remembered watching Tate and Addie jumping on the trampoline they used to have in their backyard. It damn near gave Constance a heart attack every time they used it, but she couldn't manage to tell them no, especially when she saw all of her little ones playing together.

Beau's laugh was infectious, and Tate's love for them was so heartwarming. You pulled up to the house, looking at the large brick structure. You could see Tate's old bedroom window. It used to be covered from the inside with a big Sound Garden poster, making it as dark as he liked it. With a shaky breath you pulled the key from the ignition and made your way up to the front door, shoes clicking quietly on the cobblestone walkway.You knocked on the door, four times. You stood, feeling your knees shaking beneath you, the heat from the sun warming your back. You felt your heart jump when you heard the door open, looking up to see none other than your high school sweetheart. You meant to say something like "Hello," but your jaw hung open, the sun illuminating his golden locks, long and shaggy as ever. 

"Hi Tate." You smiled up at him, his face was hard to read. 

"(Y/N)..." He started, looking you up and down slowly before looking back up into your eyes. "I thought you moved to Arizona."

"I did, but I'm home for summer. No way in hell was I going to stay there for 130 degrees." His smile made you smile in response.

"Come in." He reached his hand out and you took it, shuddering when he instinctively brushed his thumb over yours.

"So hows college going?" He asked, you two sat at his kitchen table, he made you a cup of coffee, putting it over ice like he knew you liked."I mean, pretty bullshit honestly," You chuckled, "But necessary. I'm almost done now, might as well suck it up and keep going."

You two made small talk, everything feeling so easy and laid back. You two picked up right where you'd left off, you felt like old friends - sort of. An old friend you were wildly attracted to. He hadn't changed much, except he was wearing gray sweatpants and a black tank top. He never wore anything but long sleeves when you two were younger, but his arms looked strong and his shoulders were broad so he could pull it off pretty damn well now.

"So hows that guy you're with?" He looked up through his blond curls and you almost choked on your drink at his boldness. You couldn't be too surprised honestly.

"Oh," You shrugged, desperately trying to make it clear that you were over him. "We sort of had a thing for a couple months. It never really went anywhere, and he wasn't exactly my type." You flashed a playful smile, and you saw that devilish smirk of Tate's crawl over his lips.

"And what is your type, exactly?" He said, leaning back, giving you a clear look at his torso, legs spread, only aiding in your mind wandering further than you cared to admit.

"I don't know, I like tall blondes." You teased, heart racing nervously for how confident you were acting. "Maybe had an emo phase in high school."He raised an eyebrow, still looking as devious as ever.

"Sounds like someone I know." He leaned forward, taking your hand in his. "So what I'm hearing is that you're completely single?" He questioned, making you stand up with him, his chest close to yours.

"I couldn't be more single if I tried." You giggled, feeling your face get hot when you feel his hands slip around your waist.

"I miss you, (Y/N)." His voice was quiet, lips ghosting over yours, immediately sending shivers down your spine.

"I miss you too, Tate." Your knees felt weak, "More than I even know how to explain." 

With those words Tate finally pressed his lips against your own, large hands firmly holding your hips - he still made you feel safe. Within minutes the kiss had deepened into something fiery and passionate. Your hands were tangled in his hair, you two had made your way up the stairs, a trail of your clothing leading to his bedroom door, which he now had you pressed up against in nothing but your black panties. His lips worked furiously against yours, your hands were pinned on either side of your head. His lips moved to kiss down your neck, stopping where your shoulder connected, biting at it teasingly.

"Tate...I need you, please..." You whimpered, hands searching for something to grasp. You felt him smirk against your skin, lips moving back up your neck to your ear.

"I'm going to show you exactly who you belong to." He breathed against your ear, your knees immediately felt weak beneath him. He pulled back, and you were met with a familiar expression. His eyes were dark and he looked so possessive and dominant. He exuded power and control and something about him controlling you once again only aided the desperate wetness forming between your thighs. He finally released your wrists and they immediately tried to touch him, whimpering when he stepped out of your arms reach.

"You know better than to touch me without permission, angel." He said quietly, raising an eyebrow at you.Angel.That was his favorite pet name for you. He always said it fit you perfectly - that you were radiant and truly made him want to live life happy.

"Please, I need you. You're all I've been thinking about," You begged, clenching your thighs together, "please Sir." If he wanted to pull nicknames out of the past then you could too. 

His cheeks were dusted red when you brought out the name, but it only excited him more.

"Go lay on the bed." He demanded, pulling you by your wrist over to his bed covered in a black duvet.

"Don't even think about touching me yet." He pushed you so you were flat on your back, his hands on the inside of your knees to spread your legs. His lips peppered your inner thighs with kisses, moving closer and closer to your core. You writhed under his hands that were wrapped around your thighs. You needed him more than you even knew how to explain. Finally, you let out a relaxed gasp when he kissed through your panties, almost immediately having your back arched.

”My angel needs me, hm?" He whispered teasingly, one finger moving the thin fabric to the side, slowly flicking his tongue against your clit, making you moan loudly.

"More...." You gasped breathlessly, "P-please..."

Your eyes were closed but you could almost feel his satisfied glare burning into your skin. He leaned in, gently swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. His finger tips dug into your skin, your hands grasping at the thick duvet cover. He smirked against your hot skin before he buried his face between your thighs. He made shapes on your clit with his tongue, alternating between fast and slow. His right hand snaked over your thigh, his middle finger pressed against the wetness around your entrance before ever so slowly pushing it in, not stopping until he absolutely had to.

"Good girl," He praised quietly, adding in his ring finger. "So wet for me." He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace - your hands were desperate to tangle in his hair, but you wanted to follow his orders.

You loved being obedient for him.He leaned up from his spot between your thighs, lips glistening. He kept up the pace with his fingers though.

“Tell me princess, did you miss me all these years?" His voice was low and gravelly.

"Y-oh!" Suddenly he hit something inside you that made your legs shake.

"Yes sir, I missed you so much!" Your back was arched against the sheets and you. He knew what you liked, so he kept going, hitting that same spot over and over again.

"I-I'm gonna' cum, please can I?" You begged, feeling that coil tighten in your tummy that you haven't felt in so long.

"I think you deserve it, angel. Cum for me, all over my fingers like you used to."

His words sent you over the edge, damn near screaming as the coil snapped, your body was trembling beneath his touch, eyes screwed shut in ecstasy. He helped you ride your orgasm out until the very end, only quickening his pace as you screamed for him, blond curls stuck to his forehead as he watched your body shake. Ever so slowly, he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the empty feeling.

It wouldn't last long though. You watched as he slipped out of his boxers, tossing them to the side. You looked him up and down, although your vision was fuzzy from the earth-shattering orgasm he just gave you, seeing Tate like this made your heart race. He looked perfect, defined muscles, beautiful dark brown eyes - he really was as close to perfect as one could get. He leaned over you, pushing your legs up so they were over his shoulders, pressing against your chest. His nose was close to yours.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered, lining his hard cock up with your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you, your body tensing at the familiar feeling. You both moaned in unison, your hands holding onto Tate's arms. Taking his time to do so, Tate began quickening his pace, thrusting into you, making you only want him harder and faster.

"I know you can fuck me harder than this." You teased, cocking an eyebrow at him. With your words, urging Tate to do what you said.

"I wasn't sure you'd be able to handle me anymore." He retorted - cocky as per usual. But he quickened his pace, hips snapping against yours roughly. His hand that previously rested next to your head moved to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides the way he knew you loved. 

"Fuck-" You gasped when his hand met your throat.

"Is this hard enough for you, princess?" He taunted, smacking your cheek lightly just to play with you.

"Yes sir..." You whimpered, looking up into his eyes. He was getting close and you could tell. He was breathing heavy and as dominant as he wanted to sound, his voice was shaking. His pace was fast, slamming deeply into you.

"I-I'm gonna cum again Tate!" You squealed, earning a tighter grip around  your throat. He smirked, somehow going even faster than before.

"Greedy little girl," He hissed, "You want to cum again?"

You nodded desperately in response, knees beginning to tremble beneath him, your whole body starting to feel hot.

"Cum for m-oh fuck!" He hissed, suddenly overtaken with his own orgasm, covering your inner walls with his hot cum. At the same time, you felt your body convulsing under him, walls clenching around his length, only aiding in each of your orgasms. He collapsed on top of you, slowly pulling himself from inside you. Gently, he pressed a few kisses into your neck.

"Tate.." You whispered, fingers playing slowly with his curls. "I missed you so much." You kissed the side of his head, feeling him smile against your skin.

"I missed you too, (Y/N), I don't even know where to begin..." His voice was gravelly and quiet. 

"Maybe Arizona isn't the place for me." You said quietly, not really meaning to say it aloud. He looked up at you, cheeks dusted pink.

"Or maybe Arizona is the place for me." He grinned, pressing his lips into yours firmly. You couldn't imagine going any more years without him.

[ofwrittenlegacy]

hi hi babe can I please get #94: “I had a bad dream again.” with Peter having a really bad nightmare because im a predictable bitch and I love you/your writing so much??

hi my love!!! Absolutely you can! Thank you so much! I’m pretty new to writing Marvel but I am ready to write millions of Irondad fics. I hope you enjoy! xx. 

You can read it here on AO3! 

Death was staring him in the face.

Peter was trapped, frozen. He was in a yellow tinted enclosure, incarcerated and chained. And Death was seducing him. He took many forms. Thanos, Vulture, the silly gunman from last Thursday. His hands were surprisingly warm as he touched Peter’s neck. Warm like the singular tear Peter felt drip on his forehead as he turned to dust in his mentor’s arms.

“You really shouldn’t trust a soul in this game,” Death said, smiling. “Not when everyone has something to gain or lose.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Peter begged himself to wake up. This wasn’t real. He could make it stop. He screamed. Peter screamed himself hoarse. Until his throat was raw. No one answered.

Death wrapped a hand around his throat. “It’s time for you to answer for your sins, Peter Parker.”

_____

Peter woke up fighting. He swung but his hands didn’t connect with anything. Instead, he found himself being pinned down. He couldn’t breathe. The room was still and quiet but Peter felt a hurricane of emotions whirling within him. In his muddy, half asleep brain, Peter could make out the faint glowing blue light above his head but panic was beginning to settle into his bones.

It starts out as thin as cellophane, something he could tear away with his fingers but in the next moment it’s a deluge of ice water drenching every limb, creeping higher until it enters his mouth and nose. That's when the attack becomes absolute, shutting his body down like Death had pressed his biological reset button.

He hadn’t realized he was crying until the weight pinning him down lifted.

“Whoa, Pete, hey, breathe! It’s just me. I-It’s Tony. Fuck, uh, FRI, I need lights at 50%.” Slowly the lights came up and Peter realized the faint blue light he was staring at was coming from Tony’s chest. It was comforting. Peter focused on the light and drug in a deep breath. He had to keep breathing. He forced his chest to expand, gasping greedily for breath.

“Hi, yeah, there we go buddy. Good job. Keep breathing for me, Underoos.” Peter blinked, sending the hot tears down his cheeks. He could see Tony lowering himself to his knees by his side. A callous thumb brushed across his cheek, chasing away the tear. Peter leaned into the touch. "It's over now. I'm here."

“Hey kiddo,” Tony whispered as if he were afraid he’d scare Peter. His attempts were futile but Peter was grateful nonetheless. At least he could breathe again but unshed tears clung to his eyelashes. “What’s going on?”

Peter pushed himself up on an elbow. He was in his bedroom in the tower. Tony was wearing sweats and no shirt. He was sleeping, a rare occasion, and Peter felt a pang of guilt.

“I had a bad dream again.” He replied lamely. Now that he uttered it out loud, he felt stupid for the theatrics. It was nearing sunrise and Tony was cooing to him all because the Soul Stone left him with some unpleasant memories. How was he going to be a superhero if he couldn’t handle flirting with Death?

Tony breathed out a laugh. “Yeah, I saw. Seemed pretty rough. Want to talk about it?”

Peter kicked off the covers and sat up. His chest hurt and his hands were shaking. God, he hated waking up so violently. It was a wonder Tony was able to keep him pinned down with his super strength whilst managing to dodge the punches Peter was throwing. Tony was a miracle worker.

“Not really,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. Now that he had come to, he felt his face heat with embarrassment. He was almost 17 and here he was, sitting with Tony Stark, who had watched him blubber like a baby and now his mentor was going to play Dr. Phil. He just wished it would all stop.

“Well, at least it was just a nightmare. It’s over now.” Tony grunted and he clambered to his feet and sat next to Peter on the bed.

“Riddle me this.” Peter focused on Tony. In the faint light, Tony’s hazel eyes twinkled. He had been through twice as much and yet here he was. A few grey hairs but he was here. He was whole. He was okay. Would Peter ever be okay? “How can I call it a nightmare if it doesn’t end when I’m awake?”

That seemed to floor Tony. They were both familiar with the concept. Peter couldn’t breathe when his class started talking about cosmology or astronomy. Tony had nearly collapsed the first time he heard Another One Bites the Dust. The end of the world had nearly came. It wasn’t a nightmare anymore. That was a bullshit nickname fed to children when they thought the boogie man was going to chew off their toes. This was a day terror. Something that terrorized each person’s every living moment. The fear that something greater than Thanos would come. And this time, they wouldn’t win.

Peter stared up at Tony, hoping he had the secret answer to cure him but Tony stared back with the same haunted gaze. Everything flipped through his mind like a photo album he wanted to burn.

“That’s the price, buddy.” Tony said softly. Distantly. “Sometimes you sacrifice your own sanity for the well being of others. But you keep fighting. You always keep fighting.” Tony said. With great power comes great responsibility. Peter cast his gaze to the floor but Tony caught his chin, searching his face. He cupped his cheek. “I’m here for you. When you’re ready to talk. I’ll always be here for you.”

Deadly and sweet. Tony was two souls fused together. He was everything Peter needed and more than anything he deserved. Peter launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck. Tony laughed and snaked his arms around Peter’s lower back. He could feel Tony shudder with contained laughter when Peter pressed his face to his neck.

“I love you, Mr. Stark.”

Peter was halfway sure he could hear Tony’s chest still in his chest. He knew Tony wasn’t accustomed to affection. Howard had never been one for the warm fuzzy feelings, according to records. So he was doubly surprised when he felt Tony press a cold kiss to his forehead.

“I...yeah. I, uh, love you too, Peter.”

Peter visibly relaxed, tension bleeding out of him like a marionette with its strings cut.

“You look awfully tired for a web slinger. How about we try the sleep thing again?” Tony tried to sound casual but his voice sounded tight with emotion.

“Will you stay?” Peter asked. Innocence laced the question to heavily, it seemed to startle Tony into remembering he was just a child. Just a child.

Tony easily pushed Peter to the other side of the bed, and then slid beneath the covers. “Absolutely.”

Once he settled, Peter wasted no time crawling over and wriggling his way under his arm and resting his head a little to the right of his arc reactor. The faint blue glow was comforting. A constant. As long as it kept pulsing, he’d be okay.

“FRI, lights off.” Tony said softly, holding Peter close. Darkness cast shadows over the room. “You good kid?”

“Yeah.” Peter yawned. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Consider this a rare delicacy. Not many people can say they’ve shared a bed with The Tony Stark.”

“Only two-thirds of the entire population. Super rare.” Peter began smiling when his head vibrated with Tony’s thundering laughter.

“See, I know you’ll be just fine, Pete.” The arm tightened around Peter and he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he would be just fine.

Tiredness swallowed him whole. His chestnut lashes fluttered and oblivion engulfed him. Sleep painted him, and then Tony, coloring them and dragging them under; as though the intensity of his exhaustion had created a perfect canvas for them.

[syndianites]

Talk to Me

Ship: Motanite (Mot x S2 Dianite)

Summary: Mot confessed to his god, after years of being a strange mix of more than friends and special business partners. It didn’t go as planned. Now he wants nothing more than for the god to talk to him.

AN: @theshadowlord I’m sorry this took so long D: I’m the most easily distracted person I know, stg. Hope you weren’t looking for a happy ending, because it doesn’t happen, not really anyway (sorrynotsorry) ALSO I FIDDLED WITH THE PROMPT A LOT LITTLE IM SORRY.

Mot was floating in bliss, silent pants working through his body. Beside him, Dianite lay on his back, giving himself to recover from his most recent orgasm. He knew he had to say something now, before the god left for more business. If not now, when might he get a chance, it was hard enough to get the god alone some days, let alone away from his work.

As the ruby skinned man started to rise, Mot swiveled his head towards him, blurting out, “I love you.” He should have known something was wrong by how he tensed up, muscles drawn taught. Wordlessly, Dianite rose from the bed and disappeared, clothes vanishing with him. Now alone, the half-creeper despaired as to what that meant.

~

He waited until the next day to seek the god out. Perhaps he should have run after him then, asked him why he ran from him. But he couldn’t. For all his hardiness, he was afraid of the answer he might receive. So when he got out of bed the next morning, (they always had their nights of passion at his house), he made sure Alyssa had a warm breakfast, and had everything she needed for school. Once he saw her off, he made his way back to the compound, blocking out the autumn chill by burrowing further into his scarf.

The welcome he received wasn’t unusual. The dwarves littering the halls looked upon him with scorn, the mistrust in their eyes evident. Any humans he passed mostly ignored him, not unfriendly, but mostly uncaring. He had no real friends in this place, but that didn’t matter. This place only held one significance to him, it was where his god worked. And as he approached his office, he fought back his dread. Dianite was a man of business, he could at least be professional.

Knocking on the door, he wasted no time in entering the room, finding the god behind his desk as usual. Eyes trained on his figure, he noticed the way his shoulders grew rigged, mouth pressed into a thin line. Lifting his chin from his scarf, he calmly announced, “We need to talk.” Dianite gave a sigh, eyeballing the papers on his desk for a moment before shifting them to the side. Meeting his gaze, the god nodded for him to continue.

“We both know what was said last night, and I’m not going to take it back. Whether you return my feelings or not, mine won’t change. I just need to know what yours are.” Readying himself, he added, “Spare me no mercy.” Jaw clenched, the god straightened up, barely any difference noticed in his posture. “While I enjoy our nights of passion, I hold no feelings towards you beyond valuing your expertise and intellect. Out of respect for you, I feel we should end our meet ups, so I don’t continue to lead you on.”

Mot drew a deep breath, letting it go with a nod. Muttering out a thank you, he quietly let himself out of the room. He wouldn’t let this get in the way of his work. Just because he was rejected doesn’t mean he didn’t owe the god for all he had done for him. That didn’t make him feel any better.

~

He carried on in this fashion for weeks. While he did his best to remain the same, to remain stable, Dianite often gave him the cold shoulder. He may have been trying to help him kill his feelings, but it wasn’t working. The more he was dismissed, the more it hurt, the better he wanted to do, the more he wanted him to just look at him. It was painful.

Alyssa started to notice. At first, she wasn’t sure why Dia wasn’t coming over anymore. But she started to piece it together, the brilliant child she was. Looking at Mot, the way his eyes barely concealed his inner turmoil, and watching the few instances she saw the two together, she was sure something happened. Something that couldn’t be fixed in a day, not even with all the time in the world. So she tried other things.

She tried her hardest to make him happy, to distract him. Her school projects, her newest friends, how well Uncle Jeriah was teaching her the ways of the sword. Everything she tried seemed to fall flat. It was infuriating, frustrating, and she couldn’t remember the last time her father had smiled. But then something worse happened. Dianite died.

Mot was devastated, his love still ringing true. The very man that had saved him from the horror of the streets, the life he couldn’t bear to recall, was gone. The one who had ebbed the spread of his creeper spores, accepted their strange mutations, deceased. His already fractured heart shattered. And for the first time in years, he cried. Long after the horrors of his childhood, the drug addled nightmares he couldn’t escape jaded him, he broke with this one event.

Nothing his friends did could console him, Alyssa couldn’t distract him, but he convinced himself that his pain didn’t matter. Ianite’s, for sure, meant more, her very brother being taken from her. Martha’s did, having been so close to her uncle, Andor’s did, having adored the god more than his own father. (He wasn’t sure how Mianite felt about it, but surely even his feelings meant more than his). But what did the feelings of some creeper infested street scum matter? At this point, he wasn’t sure if anything he did mattered. So when, in a desperate attempt to distract him from the bleeding agony he carried, Alyssa told him of the portal to another realm, he was rather eager to check it out.

As he listened to Spark talk of some imbalance in this realm, he zoned out. Here, with his daughter, he could go through. This was his chance redeem himself. He failed to protect the one person who saw anything good in him, and nurtured it. He lost the love from him, lost the connection he had built. And now, as he stared into the rippling wave of energy, he didn’t have anything holding him back.

So when Spark asked who was going to test it out, he didn’t hesitate to step through. If it killed him, it was for the better.

~

He was almost disappointed when color started to seep back into his vision. After a minute of pure blackness, he was pretty sure he died. Though he could hear a distinct girly shriek in the background, he figured he was falling into hell. But as he found himself free falling towards the great expanse of an ocean, some magical bullshit hugging him, he knew he was alive.

He sucked in a breath as he plunged into the salty waves, the impact absorbed by the barrier around him. The water here, though far above his head, was rather shallow, and he let himself float to the bottom before pushing off the ground and making his way back up. Emerging from beneath the waves, he looked up when the girly shriek seemed to turn into all out screaming. Two figures were descending at a rapid rate, while a smaller one glided down calmly. The first appeared to be Jeriah, arms crossed as he waited to hit the water. The other was Spark, who would likely deny the fear emitting from him. If he didn’t close his mouth soon, he’d be throwing up quite a bit of salt water.

The two sank in, one after the other, and Jeriah surfaced hoisting a coughing Spark up by the arm. Alyssa floated down, settling easily into the water, her wings not yet large enough to keep her in the air for long. It was silent for a moment, until various metal parts started to hit the water, some larger than others. “Shit,” Spark chocked out hoarsely, “The goddamn portal blew up. Looks like Ianite is going to have to wait a little longer than I thought.”

The group decided to wade towards the beach nearby, a figure clad in red watching them from there. Mot wondered if they really made it into another realm.

~

According to Champwan, the one who had been waiting for them, and Dec -the priest, but not their priest? -, they were definitely in another dimension. But somehow, the Dianite in this world had died too.  Which was just great. They were told the tale of the four heroes of this land who had to defeat Dianite, the god who went mad. (Or rather, they found out he went mad when his spirit returned, a hazy image of himself that sometimes followed people around). He wasn’t sure what he thought of his champion of this world, Tom, who so easily took out his own god.

The four, well, Alyssa just watched but Champwan was happy to help, set out to recover what they could of the broken portal. Many of the pieces were too damaged to be reused, so they would need to be smelted back down (they were baffled when they were informed they didn’t have a smeltery, only furnaces. This would take a while to fix…).

Along with setting up a place for the portal, the newcomers took it upon themselves to explore, to see what this new place entailed. Mot, for some unhealthy, terrible reason, had to visit the Dianite temple. (Champwan had given him directions to it, under the assumption he may want to see it. He was quietly impressed by it, his own god choosing to have his be less extravagant and more business-like. In other words, boring). Though he should have known he would see the deceased god, he wasn’t truly prepared for it.

Once he had ventured into the building, he made his way to the grand throne room, one of marvelous construction, especially when one was most acquainted with the inside of office buildings and drugs houses. And there, seated (? He was a spirit after all, despite his see-able form) upon the throne, was Dianite. While part of his heart clenched when he saw him, he could easily spot the difference between this version and his.

This one, for starters, seemed solemn, showing more emotion in the flick of his tail, the curve of his lips, the hunch in his back, than his god did in his most extreme facial expressions. Furthermore, this one was seriously underdressed, (though he admittedly enjoyed the view), where his own god would rather die (oh, that was not the best word) than go out in anything less than a two-piece suit. When his opalescent eyes centered on his form, the lack of recognition spoke volumes.

But there was a hint of knowing in those transparent eyes. “You’re the alter ego of Tom, aren’t you?” Though his mouth moved, his voice seemed to come from all around them. Tilting his head a fraction, he shrugged, “So it would seem. We weren’t overly well informed as to what we are in this world.” Shaking his head, the ghost responded, “In a way, you aren’t anything. You aren’t supposed to exist in this world. Yet here you are, and nothing has gone wrong because of it. So, I suppose, you are a person of this world regardless of who else mirrors you.”

Mot could almost feel the god’s gaze lingering on his changed skin, and the tendrils snaking out his back wrapped protectively around his waist. “Interesting,” the god continued, “My champion is a zombie, due to unfortunate circumstances. It would seem that the two of you are of similar sufferings. Different, but each harmful in an irreversible way.”

Not comfortable enough to let this man glean farther into who he was, he interjected, “And you and your other are of similar situations. Though… my Dianite hasn’t found himself with the luxury of a see-able form.” Or so he was told. Martha had briefly told him that she could feel Dianite’s spirit, hear his whispers if she listened hard enough. He never heard any.

There was a pause, the god seeming to hesitate. “My strength came back faster due to my… champion,” Mot didn’t miss the slight falter at the word champion, “being the one to kill me. But we both knew it had to happen. I had to be stopped.” The raw emotion in his last words felt ready to swallow the mortal. It resonated around the room, a deep churning shame the had no vessel. Mot gave only a nod in response.

“I need to see that my daughter is well,” Mot resumed the conversation after the small lull, “I’ll… I’ll be back in a little. Promise.” If the god was surprised by his ending statement, he didn’t show it. But as he left the room, it felt perhaps a little lighter than it had been before.

~

The creeper man found himself making his way back, curious about this other god. Though he was sure that the god knew he was coming back when he stepped through the nether portal, he was still surprised as he made his way into the room. Neither commented on that fact though.

Plopping himself in front of the god, he decided to cut to the chase. “What was this madness the priest claims to have taken over you?” The atmosphere seemed to darken. “It was… something ingrained into me. I had no way of stopping it, so to say. The… madness was sort of a failsafe, if I ever tried to do something certain people didn’t want me to do. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. In the same way you and my champion are different, I’m sure myself and your god are much different the same. I would be honestly surprised if he carried the same madness that tore at me.”

He ended his sentence with a sort of finality, and Mot didn’t feel the need to press further into it. Swallowing, he slowly queried, “So, what was your… relationship, with your champion? What did you see him as?” Honestly, he was just doing this to spite himself, wasn’t he? “Though we never advertised it, we were together. We’ve been together since hundreds of years ago, but there was… an incident that separated us for many of the years passed. Not too long ago, actually, I finally managed to get him to return. I refused to let death keep us apart any longer.” With a slow nod, Mot mulled over this response.

In a way, he was jealous that his alter had such success with his own god, was given the love he never will be. Part of him resented this mystery person. He had seen his homes, heard of his exploits with his friends, heard of this fantastical life he lived. And he always had wanted something like that. How was it fair that this man in another universe, who was meant to be the other him, received so much fortune when he found so little? At least he had Alyssa. She would always be a light in his life.

“What of you and yours?” The god before him returned the question. Careful to keep his words light, he responded, “We were business partners, who often regaled each other with pleasures of the flesh. Until a certain someone fucked it up by confessing his feelings.” The bitter hint at the end of his sentence was not intentional, but he could feel the god’s understanding. He abandoned the topic.

Shifting slightly, from leaning on his fist to sitting with his legs and arms crossed, he proceeded to ask Mot more questions. “I couldn’t help but notice that you have different technology in your world. What advancements are these?” The half creeper was more than eager to move to a new conversation, and told of the wonders of tinker’s construct, how great a smeltery was, and the fine tunings of reactors. He took time explaining many of the tech from his world, silently pleased by how Dianite seemed to soak it in. And as the night wore on, they slowly warmed up to each other.

But they knew they couldn’t replace the people they had lost.

~

Almost a month had passed, most of which he spent entertaining his daughter in this strange new world and, somehow, enjoying the company of the rather chaotic ghost. (He learned to ignore his idle comments of how he should blow up this, or stab this person to see how they would take it. It was a little harder to stop himself from antagonizing Mianite, however, but his self-preservation pulled through on that). Day by day he found himself toeing the line between hating his alt for the wonderful life he was given, and respecting the man for his apparent accomplishments.

Today, however, found himself in front of some makeshift portal, not yet turned on. “Alright gang,” Spark began, addressing the group of otherworlders, “From the repairing I’ve done with Mot and Champwan, we may have fixed the damn device.” Muttering under his breath, he added, “If only Gaines was here.” Gesturing to the gangly machine, he continued, “We are going to hook it to a pretty rudimentary power generator, and I’ll need someone to test it out. I don’t think you’ll die, but we never know.” Mot wordlessly stepped forward, rolling his eyes as Spark signaled for Champwan to lower the wheel into the river next to them, used to passively gain power.

With a spluttering hum, it whirred to life, the murky blue beams it emitted forming a hazy look into an open field. Sighing, he gave a meaningful glance at Jeriah (‘If I die you better as hell take care of Alyssa’), and started to enter the field. Then something went wrong. “Shit, Mot, get out!” These words reached him just as the machine gave a groan, and his first instinct was to push farther in, fearing what would happen if tried to step out now.

The scenery he had seen from the blue barrier remained, but he could now see signs of humans somewhat farther out. Namely, what seemed to be some sort of reactor? If this was the case, the portal may have worked. Turning back, it was gone. Cursing, he strode forward, ready to ask the nearest person where he was. As he walked around the reactor (that was definitely what it was), he saw someone in the distance, heading towards a house. Jogging up to them, he yelled to get their attention.

The man jumped, startled, and whipped around to face him. And he looked exactly like Spark. But his glasses, they were red? And he didn’t look like an old man, his face appearing rather youthful. (He was rather cute if he was being honest. But that didn’t faze him). Once he spoke, he knew for sure he wasn’t Spark. “Uh, hello? I don’t think I’ve seen you before?”

Putting a little space between them, Mot looked eyes with him. “Oh, I was here long before you were ever here. I’m sure you weren’t here last time I was.” Narrowing his eyes, he queried, “Who are you? You look like someone I know.” He had a hunch. Would they have switched places? “Not you too! Everyone likes to point out I look like this Sparks guy! I’m Captain Sparklez, and I wear red shades.”

Mumbling to himself, he answered, “That you do.” Speaking loud enough for the young man to hear, he continued, “Can you show me the way to Dagrun? I need to see if anyone I know is still there.” He received a hesitant nod, and they were off. He wasn’t sure what would await him. Would he meet his other? How much time had passed? Was… was Dia back?

~

He met Tom. The energetic, chaotic zombie was just as skeptical about him as he was of the other. But after their duel, he seemed to settle a little with the idea of having an alter ego. Though they still weren’t quite friends, they weren’t about to kill each other. So, yeah. Progress. And apparently his god was still dead. And people had heard him talk, his spirit following some people. Still, he heard nothing.

He wasn’t bothered by this at all, and when he was given a room to stay in for the night, he definitely wasn’t calling the god out on it. “You would talk to strangers from another dimension on a whim, but not your own goddamn champion? Must you still give me the cold shoulder, even in death?”

As he was about to add to his rant, as quiet voice rang out, “You left.” Before he could respond, Dianite spoke again, “You just leave this world, not even telling me, and expect me to welcome you with happiness and relief?” The mortal grit his teeth. “I’m so fucking sorry that you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me without having someone else there! How was I supposed to know that the portal would break? I was under the impression you didn’t give a shit about me anymore in the first place.”

The silence was heavy, but Mot was relieved to at least tell the god his grievances. “You… I was actually starting to fall in love with you, you know? But the last time hurt so much… with all my power I couldn’t stop the inevitable end of their life from coming. I was scared to love you, because I was afraid you would die one day, leave me all alone again. But I guess I was fucking right, you did leave me. And it was your choice.”

And when he screamed back to the god, he knew he wasn’t heard. He dropped the bomb and left. How dare he think that he could pull that guilt trip? When he was the one who made Mot feel worthless again? When he had taken to pushing him away, to forcing him to get over it? How fucking dare he think he had the right to feel hurt, when his heart shattered the day he refused to speak with him alone, when he refused to even act like a friend to the man? He screamed at the god, who must be so far away now, until his voice was hoarse, worn down by all the regret and anger he kept inside for so long.

But now, he didn’t have to pretend he didn’t care. As the last of his anger fled, he only felt numb.

~

The two didn’t speak again. Tom, however, seemed to have a strange fascination with the half creeper. At first, it was under the pretense of wanting to get to know his fellow champion. But as they spent more time together, he actually sought him out just for his company. It was nice, having someone so openly happy to see him. He was starting to grow rather fond of the zombie. (He couldn’t help the pang of jealousy when he remembered that his god loved him, that his life was going so splendidly. He crushed it down every time. He needed this man, as much as he hated to admit it. Something about him eased the pain a little).

The more he got to know the zombie, the more he got to spend time in his tree house. Though he was much more into the desert of Urulu, which he had visited a few times, but stayed in Dagrun to help with the… taint situation, he found the space to be quite homely. A few times, he even slept over. (At some point, Tom had set up a permanent room for him. It was one of his guest rooms, but, he informed Mot, he didn’t get many guests this far out).

He wasn’t expecting to be awoken by screams one of the nights he stayed over. After all, what would someone with a perfect life have to nightmare over? Apparently, a lot. (In the back of his mind, he feels guilty for labeling Tom’s life as perfect so quickly, assuming he hadn’t had to work to have what he did. Somedays, he could see the cracks in his relationships with his friends, from when his god had lost himself). So when he made his way into Tom’s room, he wasn’t really prepared for the shivering, sweat streaked mess the zombie was. They didn’t talk about it, but Mot made sure to stay with him that night.

(The next morning, Tom mentioned in passing that he clearly remembers his descent into death, and that sometimes if he sleeps wrong it will feel like he’s falling again, and he’s not sure he could do it again. But he says it like he’s talking about the weather, so Mot just nods).

At some point, Mot found himself rooming there full time, even as the tensions in the world were strung high. Though there was talk of reviving Dianite, they never talked about it in the treehouse. Instead, they saved that time to bonding. Mot even found himself haltingly sharing his wretched experience as a half creeper, in which Tom listened quietly, a strange look for the normally fidgety man. In return, Tom would tell him of a time long before what he had now, when the world was more focused on fighting. He would point out scars, telling him what they meant and what battles he got them in.

Of course, the two didn’t spend all their time together, Mot checking in with old acquaintances, or Martha, or even Ianite. (Ianite had always been fond of Mot, though he wasn’t sure why. She was one of the first people to figure out something happened between him and Diante).  As time passed, Mot found himself less involved with his pinning over Dianite (feelings still there? Yes? Damn.) and more into the problems of the land.

And then they went to revive Dianite.

~

Steve shouldn’t have needed to do that. How could they have missed such a crucial thing? Now as his body disappeared, he was torn between grief for Steve, someone he liked even if they didn’t talk much, and the distant happiness at seeing Dia alive. But as his figure rose, his eyes sweeping over everyone gathered there, but him, that happiness died. And Steve become more important than his god.

As he went to console Martha, Tom went to speak with the god. He didn’t look over at them. He couldn’t. Even if he tried his best to squash his feelings for his god, he couldn’t stop the anger of how easily Dia could converse with his alt, when his original champion was right there.

But then World Historian showed up, and he didn’t have time to think about it. (Some things were more important than Dianite).

~

He was falling again. The endless blackness the moved around them, the only signal that they were going anywhere. Even with the strange, squishy platform they could vaguely move about on, the quarters made close with the sheer amount of them, Dianite would not fucking talk to him. After a few tense blow offs, in which anyone brought into a conversation with the god immediately wanted out, he gave up. If he wanted to be a selfish asshole, they didn’t need to work out their problems. He was willing to be professional, not forget their nights together, to let his shriveled feelings die. And he was going to do that with or without the god.

Now sitting with Tom, the younger having fallen asleep against him, he chose to think about someone else. He wondered how Alyssa was doing, stuck with the wet napkin and the worried Ianitee (he despaired, quietly, how they would break the news about Ianite to him). Instead of pinning for a man who would never return his feelings, he worked on thinking of a new future, without him. (And it hurt, still. Shards of his heart break still lingered, and they would, for a long time. Even now, he struggled to let them go). And, despite the weird nature of their relationship, he wondered how the other Dianite was doing, a bored spirit yearning for chaos.

Settling his head on top of Tom’s, he listened to the zombie’s even breathing. Some people were more important than the god.

(AN: Did I do an okay job? I couldn’t just leave it at an angst ending for some reason. I don’t know why, but it felt like Mot already had so many injustices in his life, that he deserved some way to look towards a better future?? My poor creeper child. Sorry(notsorry) for making S2 Dianite kinda an asshole, I figured that would amp of the angst ;D. I also couldn’t stop myself from putting other ship references slid in…)

[krojibbed]

[You had been enjoying yourself with your double, really. As time goes on, you and Krojib found each other more and more connected in your artistic ideals, shifting and morphing together in your thinkpans and spawning works the likes of which you would never be able to make back on Alternia. Abstract splashes of color, all the colors of the hemospectrum (which, surprisingly, Krojib wasn’t aware of, much to your confusion) swirling together to create pieces you wouldn’t have ever dreamed of. It was miraculous, and a shining moment, something you were going to be proud of for a very long time. And hell, the PincirSpam followers you gained from your exploits didn’t hurt either.]

[But, as time went on, you began to think something might be… off, with them.]

[They were deteriorating, a little. You couldn’t quite figure it out, but you could tell something was wrong, and it sent a dull chill down your posture pole, a pool of dread whirling in your guts as you worked on a piece together. They were acting less… put together, you supposed. Strung out, less able to reason, less able to keep themselves from falling into trouble. You’ve had to pull them out of a sticky situation more than once at this point, saving their spacy ass from muggers and stupid actions they took on and the like, and you were definitely starting to get worried. You knew you were generally a spacy sorta troll, but this wasn’t like you. You weren’t the type to take bullshit from criminals, and though you may have impaired judgement when it comes to your actions, nothing ever went truly that wrong. And based on how they had been behaving beforehand, this wasn’t in their nature at all. What was… going on here?]

[And so, you began to mull over your options. You knew you had one, but you weren’t sure how well it would go.]

[Spirale GO stared back at you from your palmhusk, ominous, a solution you weren’t sure of the merits for. You had heard whispers of what you needed to do—seal your double away in a life they can live happily and free of worry. Free from… whatever was causing this lapse in judgement. And you had… heard whispers of what would happen if you didn’t. You weren’t particularly fond of that other option.]

[You opened the app with a shaky finger and slid in to sit next to Krojib while they were leaned against the wall of a piece they were taking a break from.]

CHARUN: Hey.. CHARUN: .. CHARUN: .. CHARUN: .. CHARUN: Uh

[Fuck. How were you supposed to ask someone if you could seal them away in some other dimension for all eternity? How was Krojib even supposed to trust you, what with their reasoning skills all messy?]

[You weren’t one to beat around the bush, though. So, despite your anxieties, you pressed on.]

CHARUN: Apparently CHARUN: Doubles are getting sick CHARUN: And if you stay here youre gonna die and then im gonna die

CHARUN: So CHARUN: .. CHARUN: .. CHARUN: .. CHARUN: They gave us a way to seal doubles away CHARUN: In some other dimension CHARUN: Where youll be happy and wont get us both killed

[You sigh, pushing a hand through your hair. Krojib was silent, staring.. you couldn’t tell if they were taking what you were saying seriously or not.]

CHARUN: So CHARUN: .. CHARUN: .. CHARUN: .. CHARUN: .. CHARUN: Let me seal you away

[There was a long pause before Krojib spoke up, voice soft.]

KROJIB: I know KROJIB: Im more observant than you give me credit for Charun

[Okay, that was surprising. Seems Krojib was more in there than you thought.]

KROJIB: I dont want you to get hurt but I dont want to leave either KROJIB: Am I gonna forget you.. is what Im wondering

[Your shoulders and gaze fall, blinking in bewildered silence. You hadn’t really considered that yet, but now that it was staring you in the face… you couldn’t help but mull it over.]

CHARUN: .. CHARUN: .. CHARUN: I dunno CHARUN: I know I wont forget you.. if that helps

KROJIB: I mean KROJIB: I know what I have to do KROJIB: Whether I forget you or not I cant not do it KROJIB: But um.. here

[They reach to pull off their hat, holding it gently in their hands for a moment before passing it to you.]

KROJIB: Take it KROJIB: Ill get another one made

[And as you watch in awe, their hat in one hand and your palmhusk in the other, they shift to sit facing you, kneeling with hands on their knees anxiously gripping the fabric.]

KROJIB: Seal me away

    [The piece was left unfinished.]

[its-buckysbabe]

Zelus (1/5)

i finally finished this! istg this was only supposed to be a quick drabble but it got away from me and im now scared for the future. i have another 5 chapters planned... rip in pieces to me.

((((i also lowkey have a feeling bucky would be completely mesmerised by twerking. like it would be a thing for him.))))

Zelus - Challenge

Characters: bucky x reader

Summary: Y/N tells Bucky that she isn’t the jealous type and so it turns into a sort of competition to see if he can make her jealous. based on this prompt by @buckyprompts

Warnings: swearing. implied smut. michael fassbender.

Word count: 2,127 words

Also read here: AO3

Masterlist Part II, Part III

You unceremoniously fell atop of Bucky, laughing but above all trying to catch your breath. His chest below you rumbled as his arms came around you, the left holding you flush against him, while the right settled at the back of your head. You revelled in the feeling of him, surrounding you and touching you everywhere all at once. He gently pressed on the back of your head, guiding you toward him and in an instant, that somehow felt like a lifetime, your lips connected.

God, you’d never get enough of kissing him. Every time his lips touched yours felt just like the first; electric in every sense. You felt him relaxing into the kiss as it turned languid. Unhurried. After the heat of the passion that had enveloped you for the last however long the kiss felt like a respite. Like a cool drink on a hot day, a respite and a chance to recover. You smiled into the kiss and soon Bucky did too, the two of you eventually parting with wide grins taking over your faces.

You reached over him, picking up the remote control from the bedside table to turn the TV back on so that you could finish off your Netflix marathon from which Bucky had distracted – not that you were complaining. You snuggled up into his chest, sighing dreamily as Michael Fassbender's face came back on screen. You'd been watching Centurion when Bucky had come in, being needier than you'd ever seen him. He'd climbed into your bed and under your covers without invitation before attaching his mouth to skin on top of your collarbones and nibbling at it. Not even a minute had passed before you'd literally just turned off the TV, realising that trying to get him to wait until after you were done was futile. And really and truly, you weren't sure you could wait any longer with the way he was making you feel, either.

That had been a little over an hour ago and now all you really wanted to do was cuddle with your boyfriend and watch your other boyfriend's fantastic acting on screen. Bucky didn't seem particularly thrilled if his grumbling was anything to go by.

Ten minutes of enduring his muttered monologue passed before you sighed, yet again, and paused the movie. Again.

“Spit it out.” you finally instructed when Bucky didn't seem to be in any hurry to explain his sudden bad mood.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, doll.” he replied nonchalantly. His face looked the picture of innocence but you called bullshit. This was the second time in one evening that you'd paused your movie for him. You were going to get answers. One way or another.

“Bucky you big fucking baby tell me what the matter is? You've been moaning into my ear for the last quarter of an hour. I just wanna watch my movie in peace. Please.” you responded, your voice taking on a whiny tone. You were tired and starting to feel sore and all you really wanted was to relax but for some reason God hated you.

“Well, why don't you just marry your stupid movie then...” Bucky grumbled quietly, literally pouting. The beginnings of a humongous grin was starting to break out across your face when you realised what exactly was happening.

“James Buchanan Barnes, are you perhaps... by any chance.... just possibly.... a teeny tiny smidge jealous of a fictional character?” you teased in a sing-song voice, your index finger poking Bucky in the chest with every word.

“Not-fucking-likely, doll.” Bucky replied, though you could see a faint blush developing on the apples of his cheeks. Adorable. You saw his eyes shift around, as you watched for any changes in his expression. After all this time you'd picked up on a few things thanks to Nat  and you could see that he was holding something back.

“Hmm Buckaroo, I'm struggling to believe you here. I mean, you come home and basically assault me on my only night off to have your wicked, wicked way with me. And now, instead of cuddling me like you're contractually obliged to you're here muttering in Russian or Romanian or whatever at my poor innocent TV...” you absently ranted, all the while scrutinising Bucky and his body language. You noticed that he'd been running the index finger of his flesh hand over the plates on his metal arm. A nervous habit. You were onto something. You decided to press for more.

“Maybe you're jealous of the way Fassbender looks so hot in that Roman uniform toga thing. I've always had a thing for men in skirts and dresses, you know?” you rambled on yet again, noticing how Bucky's finger stilled for just a fraction of a second when you'd mentioned how hot Fassbender looked. Bingo.

“God, the things I would do to that man...” you sighed dreamily, though on the inside you were doing the utmost to hold your laughter in. Teasing Bucky had always been fun, but teasing a jealous Bucky? You felt like you'd just unlocked a whole new level in your favourite video game.

Barely a second passed before Bucky tangled his flesh hand in the soft tendrils of hair at the back of your neck, using his hold on you to pull you down and meet your lips with his. It was a heated kiss, one filled with passion and barely concealed possessiveness. You kissed him back with the same fervour, the two of you momentarily a tangled mess of swollen lips and barely there pants. That was until you remember why he was kissing you like this and you pulled away to giggle. A lot.

Now it was Bucky's turn to sigh, as he gently rested his forehead against yours. His hand moved down from the nape of your neck and settled on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. He had a small smile on his face, not really enjoying the reason for your laughter but loving the sound nonetheless. He waited for you to calm down, his face moving to the crook of your neck where he bit you warningly. You laughed a little louder before pulling back and kissing him chastely on the tip of his nose.

“Babe, there’s no reason for you to be jealous. I don't want anyone else but you, okay? I'm yours.” you told him softly, affection saturating your voice but you didn't even mind. Before you'd met Bucky this kind of open display of emotion would have made you squirm in embarrassment but you were far too happy to care. Bucky made you too happy to care. Even when he was being a jealous grouch who was interrupting your Netflix night.

“Good and don't you forget it.” he murmured, his lips brushing softly across yours with every word. You smiled at him, the possessiveness was still in his voice but there was also a tone of pride. He was proud that you were his. It made you tingle all over. You leaned forward, fully kissing him and attempting to deepen it but Bucky wasn't let you in so easy. You kept nibbling and licking at his lower lip, begging for entrance and just when you were at the end of your tether he let you in only to pull completely away from you.

“Y/N?” Bucky mumbled, his voice now an octave deeper, exposing that it wasn't just you who was so affected, even though he'd been the one to stop it.

“Yeah, Buck?” you answered back, leaning in closer to him to kiss a line up the side of his neck and up to his jaw. A strong hand was on your waist, holding you in place but also, somehow, seeming to urge you on. His other hand was holding onto your bare thigh, the contrast between your heated flesh and the cool metal being nothing shy of delicious.

“Do you... ever get jealous?” Bucky suddenly asked you. His question startled you and pulled you out of your lust-induced haze. The hand on your thigh tightened infinitesimally when you stopped placing wet open-mouthed kisses up the column of his throat.

“Nah, that’s not really my kind of thing.” you answer slowly, not really sure where this was going.

“What? Like, at all?” he questions. The disbelief is clear in his eyes and you found it amusing, to say the least.

“Yep.” you nod, popping the 'p'. You slightly tilt your head, looking at him inquisitively. You knew Bucky well enough to know that this definitely wasn't the end of your little discussion.

“So, what if I told you that I find that cute little singer real hot?” Bucky then challenged, a smirk quickly coming over his face. You could see that he was mostly joking, probably to test the waters, but you also knew by the look in his eyes that he was being somewhat genuine.

“Which one do you mean?” you inquire. You knew Bucky had been caught up on the major parts of pop culture that he'd missed out on but he was still finding it a bit tricky to get used to current music. Something about there being too much bass which made no sense to you. At all.

“You know the one that sings that song you like? The Work thing?” he explained.

“You mean Rihanna?” you confirmed.

“Yeah. Her. She's smoking.” Bucky nodded.

“I'd have to agree with you there.” you tell him simply.

“You-you what now?” Bucky spluttered, clearly caught off guard by your comment. You hadn't meant to pull that reaction from him, you were just being honest but damn if you weren't finding this even the slightest bit entertaining.

“I agree. She's hot.” you simply confirmed, keeping your face neutral and your voice steady as if you were discussing something as trivial as the weather.

“Huh.” he eloquently answered. You could see his mind was running a million miles a minute and decided to put him out of his misery with your secret weapon – teasing.

“I see how you're not jealous now....” you quip, your outstretched index finger going to the tip of his nose before bumping it lightly. The hand that had been resting on your thigh gently swatted at your finger, before catching your palm in his and pulling it up to his lips. He softly brushed his lips over your knuckles, intertwining your fingers and resting them in your laps the small space between your torsos.

“No. I am. Trust me. I'm just a little more confused than I am jealous... You really don't mind?” Bucky asked yet again, though this time there was just pure confusion in his face. It seemed like it was dawning on him that for once you weren't teasing.

“Buck, I already told you. I honest to God don’t get jealous. There’s no point.” you settled, a warm smile on your face.

“I know, doll. And I hear you. It’s just hard to believe, is all.” he acknowledged, though the confusion in his eyes was still very obvious.

“And why is that?” you replied, perplexed. You realised that you were perhaps different to what people thought the norm was but at the same time you didn't think that Bucky would have a reason for finding this so difficult to accept.

“I vividly remember being in trouble with several dames back in the day over something like this. I just can’t believe women have change that much in such a short time…” he recalled. His asking the same question ten different ways now made sense.

“Listen here you old fart—that’s not what I’m saying at all. I honestly haven’t dated enough women to have a valid opinion on that. I’m just saying that I’m not a particularly jealous person myself.” you retorted. You were smiling wickedly and Bucky couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth pull up, too. He loved it when you smiled. That was until your words registered in his head, and his mouth mouth opened in bewilderment. He promptly shut it and gently shook his head. He swore you gave him whiplash with the things you so causally said. One thing at a time, right now, he decided.

“Okay. Alright. I’m choosing to table that discussion for another time. But anyway doll, I won’t believe 'til I see it.” he told you in a challenging tone. You were never one to back down.

“Okay old man. Try me.” you countered.

"Oh, I will.” he said, the challenge still in his voice.

“Now about dating girls. And the Rihanna thing. So how-” he started but you promptly shut him, your hand covering his mouth.

“Don’t even fucking go there, Barnes.“

[isaacathom]

im figuring for most of the game Rhia ONLY refers to Jun as ‘my uncle’ - she doesnt refer to him by name. you can figure out that she means Jun through his own dialogue and through interactions with Lyndelle, who Rhia says is her cousin. and Lyndelle speaks quite openly about her father and how much she aspires to be just like him, and how much he inspires Rhia, too. so when you eventually meet Jun in relation to Team bullshit, and he’s friendly and kind, you go ‘ooohhhhh thats her uncle, right’.

the main reason she does it is because shes paranoid about accidentally incriminating him. when shes berating Elliot for leaving her behind, and describing in detail what occured after she left, she’s fully aware that if she says his name, and then FAILS to stop Elliot and the player (and Zeke, iirc) from leaving, they might report his connections. its a VERY weak defence, admittedly, given how easy it is to work out who she’s referring to. but theres also the fact that shes NOT related to him. and Elliot, knowing this fact (knowing that she’s Seren, and that her entire family live in Johto and didn’t take her ‘home’), would be unable to connect that dot. Being that he is obsessed with Seren, rather than Rhia. the player knows she means Jun, but the player has also actually met Jun - which Rhia doesn’t know. But they’ve met, and they know that Jun isn’t enthusiastic about Team shit, and only works with them because he is blackmailed and wants to protect his family.

so. yknow. if she just says ‘her uncle’, theres room for interpretation. its vague enough. plus, if you actually go to HER records, the records of Rhia Stanton, you will not find Jun Zhang anywhere. he’s her step uncle. instead you will find Patrick’s family, and the family of her ‘mother’. who i think, for shits and gigs, dont have any brothers. that’d be funny. someone investigating Rhia’s ‘uncle’ claims would actually have to look a long way into her records to find a man who could match that description. ofc in reality they’d just ask Jun because that’s her home address now but like, yknow. they share no blood, both in general and as far as her legal records are concerned. so. yknow. someone trying to be covert and investigate Rhia would have to put a lot of extra effort to find this info.

idk i think itd be fun if Rhia’s going on her long tirade explaining the time between her being assaulted and Jun finding her and speaking in these vague terms. not in any overt hilarious way, i just think itd be cool for her to do. then, of course, once shits all cleared, he’s just Jun. well, ok, she alternates, because she does feel a genuine familial attachment to Jun and Bronwyn and Lyndelle, and terms like ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ and ‘cousin’ are vague enough that it can describe how she feels while not NECESSARILY necessitating blood ties. its a cute thing. initially it was part of her cover story, calling them auntie and uncle (and then mostly just calling Lyndelle by name), but at one point Rhia would’ve just slipped and called Jun ‘uncle’ in private and honestly it probably made him cry. and shes fretting and apologising and saying ‘fuck fuck i meant Jun sorry’ and hes all ‘no no its fine.... you can call me uncle if you want.’ and shes like ‘wait, really?????’ ‘absolutely, Rhia. if you want to!’ and she cries too. Bronwyn comes downstairs to find them hugging and crying and shes just ‘did i walk in on something?? do you want me to give you a minute’ and they both laugh reallyyyy awkwardly and theres a silence, before Rhia goes ‘heyyyyyy uuhhhhhh i had a question..... am i allowed to call you auntie????’ and bronwyns very confused about what exactly brought this on, looks at Jun, looks back at Rhia, back at Jun, and it clicks and she goes ‘oooooohhhhhhhhhhh. oooohhhh. you mean actually?’ and rhia nods and bronwyn goes ‘well, you do already, dont you? why not! :)’ and its just a big fun time.

then lyndelle also walks in and is INCREDIBLY confused. what the fuck is happening. why is everyoe laughing and crying and hugging and shit. did something happen???????? it is an incredily weird time.

uhhhhh point is she means it sincerely but not in a blood tie way and its also juuuuuuussssttt vague enough that she doesnt give anything away when shes trying to keep shit secret. of course, if pressed in a normal situation, she’d tell you exactly who ‘uncle’ is, the talented Dr Jun Zhang, but in any remotely crime-y shit, you wont get a peep.

so i guess she just always calls him uncle? maybe after the whole team/org blows over, she switches to ‘Uncle Jun’, rather than just uncle? that’d be kinda cute.

im not sure exactly when shed start sincerely calling then family, though. she has like 8 years to figure that out. it certainly wasnt in the first year or so - she was still mixed in that time. at some point, certainly.

the same sort of terms follow for Jun and Bronwyn too. Bronwyn probably took a little longer - mostly because she had slightly less history with Rhia than Jun did - but both of them feel very close to her and refer to her as their niece on a few occasions. Jun especially. mostly because meeting Jun is actually required for story progression, so IF he mentioned his family at all, itd be in vague terms. because just like Rhia, he really doesnt want to tie them into his business. he hates this business, why would he want them connected? so its just ‘my niece’ not ‘my niece, rhia, that cop whose been sorta bothering you the whole game’. YOU know, obviously, the player knows thats probably whats happening. which is probably also the point where you should be going ‘hang on......... her uncles in the evil team??? does she know???’ and it should cause people to think twice. ideally between meeting Jun in a team context and the tower sequence the player should see her again - presumably to insert the whole Seren thing which ive technically retconned out of existence but still needs to occur i guesssss - and she should seem especially suss in that instance. in fact, yea, having that be the point where she asks you to ask elliot about Seren makes sense, and should look INCREDIBLY shifty. like, whyyy cant she just ask him herself? why do you have to do it? what does that mean? theres probably been minor hints about it throughout the game, and there IS a cemetery why you can find graves for both her parents AND a grave for Seren with only her DOB and an end year. and Zeke probably actually knows about it, even if he didnt know Seren personally (given the age difference - he’s older than the player but younger than Rhia, being that he is like.... 17??? which is 6 years younger than her and anywhere from 2-5 older than you. idk. there would be minor info sprinkled about Seren throughout the game, to the point where the player COULD fill in the blanks about what the fuck is happening themselves. to a point, anyway. like, hmm.... so Seren was Elliot’s charge, and vanished, and now this girl who is roughly how old she’d be now is asking me to ask Elliot about her...... hmmmm. and the player might click it. the details, about how he abandoned her, come out only from Rhia herself in her tirade against Elliot. what Elliot tells you is slightly different. ooh, thats a bit, actually.

how Rhia recounts the events and how Elliot does is vastly different. mostly because they drastically diverge at a point, but also in terms of what they recount in that similar lead up. Rhia talks about how shifty the plan was, how he made her wait while he spoke to the gym leaders before coming to get her, how they were on their own despite the other groups being fairly large and proportionally uneven, how she ended up leading the way down the corridor (of her own arrogance, but her point is that He didnt stop her). Elliot talks about her boundless enthusiasm to take part, her insistence, his concern that he’d end up disappointing her if the gym leaders found out and subsequently stopped her. and the specific ‘incident’ bit, the description is different too. Elliot doesn’t really go into specifics. its just ‘there were..... complications. i had no choice but to flee’. Rhia instead describes in details how they were grabbed from behind when the corridor opened up abruptly, how the grunts jeered them and held hands over their mouths, how she kicked one of the grunts in the arm so they let Elliot go, how Elliot hesitated for JUST a moment before bolting, silently, down the corridor. that silence is a big part of it, too. Elliot will say to you that he tried to find help, which is true (to a point), but Rhia’s statement makes that seem strange. if he ran silently, how much did he want help? whether he DID actually leave without crying out at all is..... unclear. neither account of events is wholly accurate. the commonalities are true, but the minor parts are based on interpretation. in fact, the ONLY people perhaps equipped to offer an objective view on what happened in the confrontation are the Grunts, who could talk about how Seren crossed the threshold first with a pokeball in hand, and how Elliot passed closely behind without, and how Barny got kicked in the hand and probably later in the face by the flailing Seren, how Smokes followed Elliot down the hall and saw him completely leave the premises, how Tiny Fae later told Jun about Seren. that sorta shit. those are random names i dont even know what the fuck those mean.

i think thatd be a very neat difference. just to emphasise how they both feel about it. how Rhia would highlight the choices available to Elliot (and technically herself, but trust me, that isnt her idea) and how Elliot would highlight how inevitable he felt his choices were, or how he didnt have them.if it isnt obvious i probably agree with Rhia more, though shes a lot less blameless than she makes it out and there is probably more actual manipulation of information in her recounting over Elliots. like yea, both are manipulated to elicit a specific response (sympathy for both, and anger at Elliot in Rhia’s case). but since Rhia is making a point when she’s telling her version, she’s likely slightly twisted parts of it. the emotional impact of the event isnt changed, but some of the physical elements are likely emphasised to make Elliot feel reaaallllllll fucking guilty. like ‘you thought i was dead, but i lived! but in agonising pain for a while and there have been permanent physical and mental repercussions for your actions, asshole!’ what fun! :)