#why does this keep happening every time it makes me panic like oh fuck what happened??

[micamone]

hospitals in my home state loooove to call me and ask for people that aren't in my household missdialing me is their passion

[possiblyreallyme]

Kinktober day ten: squirting with Marco

warning: squirting, doctors (duh), kinda sadistic marco?? how did that happen???

note: yes, i know about the whole "squirt is basically just pee🤓🤓🤓☝️☝️" debate, but for the sake of this one shot JUST PRETEND IT'S CUM OKAY THATS WHAT ME AND LIKE 80% OF PEOPLE THINK IT IS does anybody have an actual answer though or is it all just "we think"?

kinktober masterlist

Marco knew what he was doing, pressing down on that extra spongy spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling back, drool seeping from the corners of your gaping lips as you moaned.

"Mmhmm, good job, yoi," He praised, pistoning his fingers in and out of your tight little cunt, curling them perfectly every time. He pushed at the hood of your clit and rubbed soothing circles to the tiny nerve, and with the way hot tears were already rolling down your burning cheeks, you almost wished he hadn't. But he was a doctor, one highly skilled in pretty much all departments, and with as many books about woman's anatomy as he had laying around his office, he knew how to turn your body against yourslef.

"You know what I'm doing, beautiful?" He asked lowly, that lazy smirk ever present on his face while he hovered over you and slowly pumped his fingers, still playing idly with your clit. "I'm makin' you squirt. Never seen you do it before, and I'm just wonderin' what'll happen when you do."

He's a smart man. He knows you're embarrassed, frantically clamping your thighs together around his large hand in an effort to hold back the feeling that you were about to burst. You'd been wondering why the buildup for your climax felt different this time, but you head had been to cotton-stuffed to pick up on it until now.

"Nu uh, spread 'em for me, gorgeous, keep 'em wide, yoi," Marco purred, using his free hand to pry your thighs apart and push you left thigh down to the bed with his hand on your knee. The tears flowed quicker, and he chuckled at the sight, pressing his grin to your cheeks as he kissed away the tracks your pathetic cries left down your face. "Shh, shh, I got you, just let go." And you did, as much as you tried to hold it back. You cried as you finally felt the coil burning a hole into your stomach snap, pussy convulsing around his fingers in rapid flutters and clamps, thankful for how your eyes closed— you couldn't bare to see how much you came.

Marco saw it though. Soaked in the sight of how you fucking gushed, splashing a clear liquid against his forearm and all the way his shoulder, soaking the sheets in the prosses as you arched your back and angled your hips for more. His grin was wider than ever, looking just a little surprised at how big the puddle you gave him was, but fuck- "Do it again, yoi," He groaned, hunching forward to hover over you completely. He pressed forward, grinding the heal of his palm into your clit as he watched your entrance quiver around his fingers in tandem with how your pretty lashes gave a flutter, making that sweet little mewl that had his cock throbbing and aching for a chance to nestle as deep as his fingers were.

Oh god, you shouldn't have let yourself do that. The doctor above you, who you knew as lazy and gentle and flirty, looked feral. Like he wanted to eat you alive, or more accurately, make you squirt again and again till all you could give him was a pathetic little trickle.

He seemed to notice the slight panic in your eyes, because he soothed you with that charming chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline as he grinded his digits into your cunt, beginning a slow pace consisting of curling and uncurling his painfully long fingers.

"Don't worry, yoi, it won't hurt," He reassured you, but that look in his eye made you wonder if, for once, he was lying. "It'll feel so good, and I know how much you like to feel good. Gonna keep you squirting all night, pretty, you'll love it."

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Dealing with zombies

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Undead alien horde wanders into town Alien: Run for your lives! Human: Why? Alien: Monsters are coming!!! Alien 2: They can’t be killed! Human: So they’re undead? Alien: Yes!! Human: Goes home and revs chainsaw Fucking finally. ----------------------

Alien: Watches human carving through undead horde Alien: How are you so calm!?! Human: finishes carving through undead Me and my friends used to do stuff like this all the time when we were kids on Friday night. Alien: Are these undead such a problem on your world?! Human: Oh they flare up from time to time, but then the market gets saturated with them and people just lose interest. Alien: What the hells does that even mean!?!?” ---------------------

Alien: What are we going to do? Human: *swipes everything off table and lays out giant map Human: We need to reach the local Costcoooo Mart and seal it up. Human: The walls are at least two feet thick of concrete so we only need to worry about the main doors, emergency exits, and loading bays to seal up. Human: There should be enough fuel there to power generators and supplies to last us a while. Alien: *Looks down at detailed map with several cascading footnotes. Alien: Why do you have this? Human: Have what? Alien: This map…..why do you have it already prepared? Human: Oh, that. Human: Every human has a zombie plan ready; sometimes several. Alien: Really? Human: *Shouts down corridor Human: Yo STEVE! What’s your zombie plan? Steve: *shouts back from down the hall Steve: Take my family to countryside where it is isolated and hold fort on a farm until things blow over. Human: *Turns to alien Human: See? Everyone’s got one. -------------------

*Pair of humans and aliens sneaking through zombie infested streets Human 1: Alright; if we can make it to the train station we should be able to follow the rail lines out of the city. Alien 1: There are too many of them; we’ll never make it through. Alien 2: This will help. Alien 2: *Hefts large plasma pistol. Human 2: Are you crazy?! Human 2: No guns! Alien 1: Why would we not- Zombie: *Lurches over to them and groans Alien 2: *Panics and fires plasma pistol. *Zombie is cut in half by the weapon blast but the loud boom attracts every zombie in surrounding area towards them Human 2: That…..That is why genius.. -----------------------

Alien: Why do you prefer using melee weapons? Human: Because they don’t run out of ammo, are relatively quiet, and you look badass while using them. Alien: Really? Alien: You are using a cricket bat. Human: Badass right? Alien: To quote a human saying. Alien: “You look like a wanker.” --------------------

Alien: Why do the undead keep falling down? Human: *Watches zombies step forward and fall down Human: God bless undertakers. Alien: Huh? ---------------------

Alien: How can you be so calm about this? Human: They’re only human zombies, nothing to be worried about. Alien: Only…. Alien: What do you mean by that? Human: The real shit hits the fan when the animals start turning zombie. Alien: Like? Human: Zombees. Alien: What? Human: Zombie bees; Zombees. -----------------------

Alien: I’m still surprised you have a functioning vehicle during these times. Alien: Let alone one with such a lovely shade of red. Human: Well to be fair it was white this morning? Alien: Really? What happened then? Human: Speed bumps. Alien: Speed bumps? Human: So many speed bumps. ---------------------

*Zombie horde approaches Alien: Don’t worry, I got this! Human: Wait don- Alien: *Uses flame thrower on zombies Human: You idiot, that does not kill zombies! Alien: What?! *Sees flaming zombies now shambling towards them Human: Damnit you’re just making them deadlier! -----------------------

Alien: So you are saying I shouldn’t wear armor? Human: Some armor, but nothing heavy. Alien: Why? Alien: They wouldn’t be able to get through heavy armor. Human: True, but when they swarm you and drag you down you won’t be able to push them off. Human: So you’ll either starve or have them eventually rip the armor off you and eat you slowly. Alien: Why do I feel like you have debated this before? Human: It’s a tale as old as time…. -------------------------

Alien: We’re surrounded. Alien: *Looks down at dog. Human: Why are you looking at my dog like that? Alien: If we set the dog loose it’ll attract zombies and we can escape. Human: Ah, no. Human: We are not sacrificing my fluffy boy. Alien: But- Human: One more word and I’ll throw you to them instead. Alien: Surely you wouldn’t. Human: *Cocks pistol Human: It’s a gamble you will lose. Human: *Scratches top of dog’s head

[alienpossession]

Skillful Masseuse

A gift for @mindmelter

"How does he feel? All good inside of him?"

"Man.....you really did some number down there. Fuck, my mind feels foggy, I think you really managed to squeezed out every last bit of him that I don't want to consume,"

"Yeah well, practice makes perfect. You are like....what, my 78th guy or something? It's unacceptable if I cannot empty a guy consistently by the time I reached the 50th guy. Ah, yeah, the 50th guy, that was the biggest one, and the one giving me the toughest fight,"

"Well, entertain me while I recover then. Tell the story,"

"Oh, okay. So, it's this guy named Tamir. A big tank of a guy, Russian or something along those lines. As you know, I never started from the face for direct takeover rightaway, I started it as a real massage to lower their guard down. But of course I lathered your kind all over the body so you guys can scan the body first and absorb all the muscle memory while numbing it to the point of temporary paralysis. I think he noticed something is wrong right away because he immediately grunted

"Grrr.....why the fuck...uhhh... your oil is so fucking cold??? This is like...ffhhhuuuhh.... fucking frost bite,"

"It's what makes it special, just calm down sir. This will start to feel real good soon," I said to him back then to calm him down.

Yes he eventually calmed down, but moments later, when I lathered your kind on his neck, he started to tremble as he realized that his whole body already stiffened.

It was too late, of course, and soon I witnessed the whole liquid merged into one form and moved upward. Imagine my surprise when he flailed like a fish getting captured, his body trembled violently I thought it would snap in half and he even fell from the massage board! I legit thought your kind failed to tame him, I almost sprayed an entire bottle to his face out of panic. But luckily, he dropped back to the floor like a log as your kind rolled into his wide-open mouth. Of course he then proceeded to gave me the harshest fuck I ever received, I was unable to walk normally for 4 days and have to cancel some appointment because of that. He, being inside a shady businessman, just chuckled when I confronted him about my injury and simply thrown me 20,000 dollar as if it was nothing

"Just shut up and keep on converting, whore. You're not going to talk back to my kind as if we did not pay you back way better than what you serviced us," he said to me

"Wow, that's rude," lamented the latest client, towel already dropped to the floor

"Yeah, very. But he humiliated me further when he pointed out about my raging hard-on,"

"HAHAHAHAHAH, you got hard from all that? Man, that's on you! Me, if I got disrespected like that, oh I wouldn't let that slide,"

"Well, I did inform the most senior out of all of you for the 50th guy verbal insult. Let's just say, he got punished properly for crossing the line against me,"

"Oh fuck......what happened?"

"Oh, you'll know by yourself later. Your kind love to tell stories and gather around in country clubs etc. acting like you are talking about big business stuff when you are all just in fact sharing sex stories and scandals of your own kind. My message is, just don't be a dick to me and you'll be fine,"

"But I can put a dick inside of you, and I'll be totally fine, right?" smirked the taken over scientist, his cock elongated to a decent 7 incher and throbbed excitedly

"How else you guys would pay me after all?" Andrew said with a smirk, the fateful encounter earlier this year really turned everything around for him

----

Andrew has been a masseuse for the past 2 years, but his clientele remained small and he required an extra job just to stay afloat, especially with the cost of living that skyrocketed. Of course he would never expect that somehow his massage oil package got tainted by a mad scientist with a confidential project currently worked on by NASA.

Surprised to see the ripped package in his front porch after his day job, plus the fact that he got an appointment later that evening with no more oil left, Andrew decided not to complain or requesting refund about the opened packages.

Everything went per usual. The client, named Zaid, is a regular, so he casually just stripped to his underwear and let Andrew worked his way. Just imagine Andrew's surprise when his client that seemed fine for the earlier part of the massage suddenly started to speak about the stiffness all over his body.

Andrew checked the bottle of the oil and the expiry still lasted for some times, so this is not the oil issue. Is it his movement, then? When he started to get frantic, his surprise doubled when a translucent, viper-like creature the size of a pencil hovered right below Zaid's lips. That viper-like creature, within seconds, then jabbed itself into Zaid's nose and that made him yelled in pain. That's when the creature split into two and infiltrated Zaid from both his mouth and his nose. It all happened so quickly, Andrew didn't even manage to scream as he just froze in his place, thinking that his client just died under his watch caused by some kind of freak creature. But everything turned out to be far from over as the once-screaming-and-writhing Zaid calmed himself down before opening his eyes. That's when Zaid then said

"Hello, human. Nice to meet you,"

And of course Andrew passed out

He woke up with the morning light already entered the apartment, only to realize that he's no longer in his apartment and Zaid is walking around shirtless

"Oh hey there you, finally, you wake up!"

"Oh God, Zaid, are you okay? Your body no longer feel stiff? What about that creat---"

"Pssst.....stop that. Here, let me show you what I've learned while you fell asleep,"

And that afternoon, not only Zaid shared about all his findings, he also revealed that the he's actually no longer Zaid, as the viper-like creature is already in control of his body. It explained its origin, the test NASA conducted on them and the experimentation they conducted, the mechanics on the takeover, and how Zaid already take the decision to uproot Andrew from his flat and take the masseuse under his wing

"Zaid here got plenty of friends that can be used for my kind. Will you kindly help us?"

And so, the takeover spree started. The easiest one? Zaid's roommate who was surprised when Zaid revealed that they would have additional occupant in the apartment. When the roomie protested, Zaid just sprayed him with the oil right on his face as it then stiffened moments later.

"This makes for a quick takeover, but I find it not as hot as when you unknowingly rubbed my kind all over the human body. I want you to use that skillful hand of yours and give those oblivious human the most pleasure possible before they realized how fucked they are,"

His taken over roomie quickly agreed,

"I have to rub one out before finally feeling this good. So, stick to your method and ensure all our kind received this Earth-shattering entrance as they ride on that orgasmic wave of pushing over the last remnant of the original owner of the bodies, okay? Melt their mind into cum!"

That's exactly what Andrew did ever since. With Zaid and his roommie giving rave reviews about Andrew, soon, Andrew's clientele grew massively. It reached stratospheric high he never dared to dream before thanks to the alien-converted men that endorsed him despite Andrew's so-so massaging skill. But, practice indeed makes perfect and Andrew indeed gets better at his craft with more clients handled by him as his hands methodically kneading, cupping and applying pressure with his special oil all over the body of his clients.

When they got too comfortable and their bodies already numb, that's when the alien strikes and mere minutes later, a brand new entity is in possession of the fine studs. Have they ever seen it coming? Up until now, none, never, not once, based on the memory reading of the possessed. All of them too relaxed to even put up a fight, not even the strongest man can get out from the trap and most of them even thought that the massage was that good, their body turned hella weak.

With still a bottle left, Andrew is about to finish his duty helping the alien. But it's not like the alien ever thinking to dispose him. Instead, the alien wanted to introduce Andrew to their savior. Based on their latest intel, the scientist is alive but he's in hiding as countless government organization is on the lookout for him and also still searching where the heck the scientist disposed the last surviving bits of the alien samples. Of course they will never suspect the alien samples to be poured into 5 different bottle of massage oil in a random New Mexico's suburb.

[askinkiskarma]

Okay imagine this. Neteyam and reader having a moment and get interrupted my tuk. Of course her being little doesn't know what she saw. Until its dinner time and she brings it up . Out loud ....infront of the entire clan.

i would actually die if this happened to me ngl

enjoy anonnie x

wc: 500 words

Na'vi words used: yawne - beloved, prrnen - baby, sa'nok - mother, tskmuke - sister

"Baby, you have to keep it down, people are going to hear you."

"Let them hear, yawne. What's wrong with everyone hearing how good you fuck me every night?"

Famous last words.

Suffice it to say you were mortified. It's not everyday your baby sister... or Neteyam's baby sister, in fact, but at this point, she might as well be yours... walks in on you... doing things... things that no child should ever see, things that no adult should ever have to explain to a child, things that were so beyond what you could reasonably justify. To be fair, though, the flap of the tent was closed, and it was the middle of the night, and you were making noises that pretty much every other human being over the age of like 15 would be able to gauge for what they were and keep a respectable distance. But Tuk... sweet Tuk, innocent Tuk, the-cutest-pie-to-ever-live Tuk, she was attracted by the noises that she thought were indicative of you being in pain. That, in addition to the fact she was rudely awoken by Lo'ak's incessant snores again and felt she would fare better sleeping in your tent, led to this horrifying moment of blind panic and haphazard movements, trying to untangle your limbs and cover your bodies in sheets and blankets.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, my God, Tuk! What are you doing here, baby?"

"I thought you were hurt, you were screaming!"

Neteyam couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped him, and neither could you help the scowl that you sent in his direction.

"Oh, baby. I'm alright, I just had a... cramp. Neteyam was on top of me because he was... helping me... massage the spot where it hurt."

The next morning, you forcefully placed a pack of nose strips that you stole from Norm in Lo'ak's hand.

"Here. Use them."

"Why?"

"Because your snoring will bring this family to its knees."

Lo'ak raised an eyebrow at your annoyed disposition.

"You don't even sleep in the same tent as us."

"Yes, but Tuk does. And she can't sleep because of you."

"Yes! I had to sleep in brother and sister's tent last night because of you, Lo'ak!"

You looked at Neteyam from the corner of your eye, praying that the conversation ends there.

"Oh, ma prrnen, did you sleep well at least?" Neytiri came close and knelt by her baby's side, patting her head affectionately.

"Not that well, sa'nok. I was worried for tsmuke since I didn't want another cramp to hurt her, she was in a lot of pain when I came in. But whatever Neteyam was doing on top of her seemed to help, so I thought I could help too if she had another cramp."

You groaned, feeling an actual cramp coming when all the heads in the room snapped in your direction, and as soon as Lo'ak and Jake started cackling and Kiri started making gagging noises, you knew you would never hear the end of this.

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"Does the little Hero need a hug?" "No, fuck off"

Quickly, the hero’s head jerked back to the body on the ground.

Their hands were still shaking, their breath still something they had to take control over again. Frantically, their brain searched for a protocol they could follow, some kind of procedure or advice, something, anything that could save the situation.

“Ouch.” The villain leaned over their shoulder like a curious child. They seemed to study the body until they spat out a diagnosis. “Ohhh, definitely dead, yeah.”

I am going to jail, the hero thought. Panic gnawed on them relentlessly. I am going to jail.

The villain approached the body until they were close enough to kick it with their foot. Not really impressed, they cocked their head.

“Shame. I thought they had some potential.” They looked back at the hero and something in their face softened just a bit. “Your first body, I presume? Don’t worry, it gets easier.”

“Gets easier?” the hero croaked. They could feel tears run down their cheeks, their nose clogging up. It hurt, everything hurt.

“The offer still stands, I can give you a hug.”

“I don’t want a hug,” the hero said, their voice trembling. With a bloody hand, they went through their hair a few times. This couldn’t be happening. The hero wasn’t a killer. God, they wouldn’t even hurt a fly.

“You know that person-” the villain kicked them again “-was a criminal, right?”

The hero couldn’t see, they couldn’t think.

“Oh God,” they whispered. “Oh God.”

“They weren’t going to show you any mercy,” the villain said. “You defended yourself.”

“No no no no. This isn’t right, I didn’t…I couldn’t have— I wasn’t trying to kill them.”

For a moment, the villain didn’t say anything. They stood there and stared at the hero who was so ashamed that they had to turn away. The hero couldn’t control the tears, couldn’t control the sobs. It was difficult enough to be out here and fight every night.

It was difficult enough without the villain showing up unwanted and making fun of them every now and then. It was enough to punch people the hero didn’t know because of agendas that didn’t align.

They hadn’t noticed it but this had bitten chunks out of them for a long time.

“Okay, listen.” The villain’s hand found the hero’s shoulder. “Things like this are unavoidable when you do this job.”

“No, it shouldn’t be…it can’t be, fuck, I thought — I really thought I—”

“Deep breaths,” the villain instructed. They stood in front of the hero now. They were calm, collected. No mocking. No jokes. They’d done this before. “Don’t turn around again. Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

The hero nodded, wiping tears and snot away. They didn’t know what had come over them. They hadn’t cried in years. But then again, this was probably way overdue.

“That’s good. Keep breathing.”

“I’m fine, I…what are you doing?” The hero looked them up and down, ready for something but after that outburst, they were tired enough to call it a day. Or better, a night.

“I heard you were around, so I thought I should check out what you’re doing,” the villain said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why do you care?” the hero asked, trying to put as much disgust into their voice as possible. After all, this was the villain. However, it didn’t really work out for them. Calming down from an almost-panic-attack was just as tiring as living through one.

“You snapped out of it pretty quickly, I’ve never seen that before.”

“I’m fine,” the hero insisted. They wiped the last tears away and took in a deep breath. What had just happened?

Only now, they realised that the villain was still holding onto their shoulders. With one movement, they brushed them off, heading towards the exit of the abandoned building. What was that? They had sent people to hospitals within minutes, they had always been efficient and quick.

They had expected any reaction to an enemy getting killed but this one?

Their head hurt. They wanted to go home. Fall into bed.

Shit, they hadn’t cried in years.

“Hey.” The villain grabbed their arm before they could escape. “That was just the tip of the iceberg, wasn’t it? You have quite a lot bottled up, don’t you?”

The hero dared to look into their eyes and they got so uncomfortable by this confrontation that they wished to walk into the ocean and never return.

Because the villain was right. Maybe. The hero tried to remember but the last years seemed very foggy.

“Christ, what happened to you?” the villain asked but not even the hero could really remember.

[loveswrites]

Is love enough? Poly Joe x Love x reader

Poly! Joe Goldberg x reader x Love Quinn

Time it took me: 5 hours spread out a few days

Word count: 1058

I asked you guys on a poll if you guys would like a poly xreader with Joe and love and you guys definitely did! So Let me know how you guys like it! The closer I got to the end I was thinking about making this one into a mini series! As I could do a lot more with this one! Tell me if you'd like a part two!

When you finish reading tell me. Do you think love is enough?

Love <3

"Depression makes you do crazy shit Joe!"

"That doesn't make sense, Love! just accept the fact that you killed her for no reason but the fact that you can't control yourself!" Joe yelled at love with wide eyes. 

"I can't control myself? I can't control myself?! You were the one obsessing over yet another woman! What did you expect me to do?! We have a family!" Love yelled back at Joe with tears in her eyes. But they weren't tears of sadness.

"Babes? What's with all the yelling what's going-... on.." You questioned coming down the stairs but paused seeing exactly what the yelling was all about.

"What happened?.." You whispered. On the ground all you saw was blood and the body of some blonde. 

"What are you doing here!?" Love and Joe yelled in unison.

"You told me to come pick up Henry so you could finish on some things- What happened!" You yelled, snapping out of your explanation of your presence.

"I- I she fell-" Love attempted to say but you quickly cut her off.

"Into an Ax!?" You yelled.

"It was an accident!" Love tried defending herself.

"What the fuck! What the actual fuck? I- Where is Henry?!" You yelled out looking around the dark basement for the child you came to pick up.

"He's over there he is fine!" Love gestured to Henry who was literally a baby in a corner.

You watched as Joe paced the floors as you could only assume he was thinking about what to do about this.. situation that lies in front of you three.. and a half. 

You Joe and Love were in a relationship together. It was a loving happy relationship you felt secure in some aspects of it. Besides that fact that you never knew if the police would show up at your front door and arrest you was all. It was one of the things that made the loving happy relationship feel a little less secure. Also with love's impulsive behavior and Joe's constant need to have a new fixation every other month put a damper on the relationship at times. But none of that stopped you from loving them both. And them loving you. 

"You said no more. No more killing. No more death. A fresh start and a New beginning. And Joe you no more.. obsession plus the killing also." You whispered shifting your eyes between you two lovers. 

"How can neither of you keep your promise?" 

"I haven't killed anybody!" Joe yelled.

"But you stalk! And you creep! And you lie and cheat on both me and Love! Why?! Why are we not enough for you? I keep your secrets, I'm there when you're scared! When you're scared that you might do another bad thing! And you Love I'm there for you every sleepless night when Joe is gone! We were all supposed to be happy here! But since we're all killing and lying, I'm going to tell the truth I hate it here! I hate the suburbs I'm a fucking city girl I don't belong here yet I am trying to adapt for you for you both because I love you! You both ripped me apart from a city that I loved so much to lie in a house with two people that I thought loved me more than I loved that city just to feel like some neglected piece of trash! I hope to God Henry never feels like this- Oh wait he probably already does since he's facing a corner chilling in a room with a dead body!" You screamed with so much pent up aggression you snatched up the baby carrier that held Henry.

"Pleas-" Joe started but you cut him off without turning to face them.

"Don't call me, don't text me. Fix your mess then maybe me and Henry will come back." You said causing panic to rush through both of their veins.

"Maybe?!" Love yelled her eyes widening. 

"What do you mean maybe?! I love you, there is nothing that I wouldn't do to make you stay!" Joe yelled.

"Shut up." You said, shaking your head as you walked up the stairs leaving the bakery. 

When you've been in a relationship with basically two insane people you learn when their threats mean you harm or not. In that case Joe threatened you out of fear. Not anger. He was never angry at you much. He got mad at Love more than he would you. Him and Love fought more than you, him and love ever did combined. Which you couldn’t lie was understandable because seeing that their habits could land us all in jail. You’ve never killed anybody but that still doesn’t make you a good person. 

You’ve lied for them. Threaten people for them. Even though Joe and Love do their best to keep their dirty habits away from home, it’s inevitable that one of those habits will come knocking on your front door. You’ve helped with the..bodies. So no matter how sick it makes you or how bad you feel about it you are and will forever be an accomplice to their crimes for no other reason than the fact love makes you do crazy things. 

When you got to your car you went to buckle Henry into his car seat. He was crying. You almost missed that.. How could you miss a screaming baby? As you tried to zone yourself out of your deep thoughts about your two loves you tried calming the only love that mattered right now. You found it hard to do this as tears rolled down your own face. Who was going to calm you down with their love? As you shhh henry to calm down rocking him in your arms on the side corner of the bakery you started to think what if this was all?

What if this was it? 

What if all your life now consisted of was lying, hiding, running, crying, screaming, fighting, shovels, dirt and muddy midnights. But at least you had your two lovers by your side, That’s all that matters right? Could the love between three people be enough to grow into a happy family?

Getting into the driver's seat you started the car. And as you drove away from the bakery you couldn’t help but think, is love enough?

[mitchellpete]

Firsts

summary: You’re bad at playing hard to get, and you don’t want to let the opportunity slip. Maverick gives you your first motorcycle ride.

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x gn!reader

tags/warnings: maverick being flirty, shy!reader but also not really?, some drinking mentioned, overall fluff

word count: 1.4k

A/N: i feel terrible that i keep making excuses not to post so i'll let you guys have this one. i don't know who's still on top gun tumblr but i hope you guys are still around. and that you guys like this! it was supposed to be a drabble but..?? ANDDD one more thing: my request page has updated also!

-

“Wait, you’ve never been on a bike before?”

“I’ve been on a bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

Maverick scoffs and then cocks a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips in his frail attempt at reading you, or at least pretending he knew you.

Except he doesn’t, because out of the many outings at the bar, tonight had been the first time he’d spotted you. You were ashamed to admit that it was kind of flattering having him follow you around for a good half an hour, even after you locked eyes with mustache Hawaiian shirt blonde guy across the room. Ah, it was all a game. But God, was Maverick pretty. And charming. You couldn’t decide whether you were bad at playing hard to get or if you simply didn’t mind being the game.

(It was definitely the former.)

Panic filled you later that night when you watched him slip his jacket on on the opposite side of the room. He was still distractedly rambling with his friend, however, and you took the opportunity to push past at least 5 people and make it out of the door before he did. 

What to say or do the moment he stepped out? Your head was empty. But hey, he’d see you out there, make another flirtatious comment, make you blush and then it’d go on from there, right? God, please. 

This had to have been like the fourth time you’d seen him. He was most certainly the prettiest out of all the aviators that confidently waltzed into the bar every time you and your friend met for drinks. 

Miramar. A lovely place, truly. 

Beautiful, too. The sunset is beginning to form, and you step towards the wooden fence separating the sand from the small parking lot in front of the building. A packed bar, only a few vehicles. You wonder if any of them belong to Maverick. You pray that he walks this way at all.

The beach in front of you is littered with people, families, couples. There is chatter everywhere, drowning out the sound of the bell on the door behind you, or the sound of his voice if he happens to be walking out, talking to his friend.

That’s why when you eventually zone out maybe a good ten minutes later, you don’t notice that he’s already walked past you, striding towards the vehicle closest to you. The motorcycle. Red, black, adorned with decals that match the patches on his pretty jacket. You wish you’d noticed. 

He’d certainly noticed you, watching you avoid his gaze as he swung a leg over and took a seat. “Going for a swim?”

FUCK.

Tongue in your cheek, you meet his eyes. “No. I.. needed some air. Where’s your friend?”

“Where’s yours?” A cheeky smile spread on his face as he reached for the handles. 

Oh, he’s sooooooo—

“Inside. I’m uh, actually waiting for another friend right now. She’s picking me up soon, I think.” Lies, lies, lies.

“In a car?” 

“On a motorcycle, actually. How fast does yours go?” Jesus Christ. You know nothing about motorcycles, by the way.

He leans slightly forward, intrigued by your response. “Faster.”

“Hm.” You glance out at the shoreline again, at the sun turning bright orange. You feel the warmth on your cheeks. Stupid. You’re playing hard to get again, for fuck’s sake. He’s too pretty, it makes you nervous. 

Lucky for you, he breaks the tense feeling in your stomach with a laugh. “Actually?” 

He sticks the key into the ignition, filling you with the slight panic from before that he’s slipping away.

You fake a snicker, although it comes out dry and humorless. “I’m kidding. I don’t know a thing about motorcycles.”

The sudden rev of the engine startles you, and he smiles. “Some people are just meant to look pretty on the back of ‘em, I think.”

There was already a warmth to your cheeks, but now it’s heat. “Well.. that sounds like fun.”

Furrowed brows. “Wait, you’ve never been on a bike before?”

You snicker again, this time for real. “I’ve been on a bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

Maverick scoffs and then cocks a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips in his frail attempt at reading you, or at least pretending he knew you. Playfully rolling his eyes, he revs the engine again and waves you over with his hand. “Come on.”

Your face falls. A different kind of panic. “Huh?”

“Just a quick ride. Before your friend gets here.”

“A-are you sure?” 

“You’re scared?” He grins.

“I—No. I just..” You hesitantly make your way over, your legs suddenly weak. “I drank a little, so I don’t—”

“Can you relax?” He laughs again, his laughter as pretty as he is. “It’s not scary, I promise. Here, step on that part. Just hold onto me and hop on.” He points down below and then sticks his arm out for you to grab.

“I’m not scared,” you mumble as you manage to perch yourself on the space behind him, careful not to grip his arm too tight. “I think you’re a little strange, is all.”

 “How so? You gotta hold onto me, sweetheart.” Another engine rev. What is his deal?

You lean forward as much as you can, pressing yourself to him and wrapping your arms around his middle. The seat behind his is slightly raised, and your face absentmindedly presses into the back crook of his neck. It’s too late to pull back when you realize, and the heat in your cheeks starts to burn. Nevertheless, you go through with your accusations.

“Well,” you begin, conscious of your voice as to not be loud in his ear. “You follow me around the bar for some stupid bet, and.. now you’ve forced me onto your bike.”

Ha. As if you hadn’t planned all of this. Sort of.

Another pretty laugh. “It’s a motorcycle,” he mocks you. 

That gets a laugh out of you, squeezing your arms around him a bit as he starts to move. 

“Although, I do have to say—” He halts, a foot firm on the ground, and turns to look you over his shoulder. “Out of anybody I’ve followed around the bar, you’re the only one I’d give a ride to.”

God. You think you’re already in love with him. “That so?”

He presses his lips together and nods, fake serious. 

Pressing your forehead to the back of his jacket, you chuckle. “I guess that means I owe you something.”

“I’ll start driving on one condition,” he offers, his tone playful.

“Hm?”

“Give me a kiss.”

Oh boy. It’s easy by now; you’re already melting into him. Glancing up, your surroundings become a blur and all the outside chatter, the bell on the door and the sound of the other cars go completely silent as you lean your neck to reach. It’s a peck, but it’s complete; all of your lips feel the soft skin of his cheek, plump from a smile under your kiss. And then your chin goes to rest on his shoulder, and next thing you know, you’re off. 

There’s suddenly wind; you weren’t prepared for your hair to flow, as he took off from the parking lot and immediately down the road.

You’re clinging onto him with all your might, maybe a little scared for a moment, but then it starts to feel nice. You don’t even recall the moment he’d slipped his aviators on; perhaps the little kiss you gave him left you in awe instead of vice-versa, or maybe it was the drinks you’d had earlier? Maverick says something but you barely hear it, your stomach fluttering in excitement as he swerves between cars to get out of their way, to fly by beyond them on the road and to make the moment about just the two of you. Nobody else on the road. 

He turns onto a different road, this one longer and less crowded, and you squeal as he starts going faster. A euphoric feeling overtakes you, and even in the wind, through the sound of the engine and Maverick’s muffled voice, you’re convinced you can’t let him slip away after this one either. 

“Maverick!”

Wind, wind, wind. The engine.

Tapping a hand on his side instead, you catch his attention. He slows down just a bit, momentarily glancing over his shoulder again before looking back at the road. 

“You wanna stop?” he yells.

“No!” you shout back. “I just wanted you to know something!”

“What is it?!”

You lean closer to his ear, face in the crook of his neck again. “I was lying! There is no friend!”

He grins. “I know!”

[sucka4pain]

𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐸~!♡︎

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒!𝑇𝑜𝑘𝑦𝑜 𝑅𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

Pronoluge Chapter 1

ᴡᴄ: 3.1ᴋ

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠/𝑇𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠: 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑑, 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒅! 𝑩𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌!!

Free….

What does it mean to be free?… How does it feel to be free?…What even is free?…

Thoughts running through her head as she was packing her bags and trying to ignore all of the screaming that was coming from the living room downstairs under her room. Everything in her room is now empty, but it wasn’t like this before..no it wasn’t. Back then, it was full of her favorites colors and aesthetics.

But why now is it blank and lifeless? What happened to make it all go blank? It felt as if it was a beautiful piece of art, that eventually began to be torn apart bit by bit from her family and relationship which she still hadn’t recovered from.

Growing up wasn’t the best either. Dealing with bullying due to her appearance, getting a job at an early age just to have her parents take every penny she earned and using it for their own selfishness, having a boyfriend in middle school and thinking he was the person who truly cared about it but oh boy she was wrong. He was the complete opposite of what she imagined her relationship to be like.

The relationship she imagined it to be was like a scene you would see in an anime. The main character falling deeply in love with the side character and they eventually get together, making it look just so perfect…maybe a little too perfect.

‘I hate this…I hate it…please, help me…’

The thought running through her head as she finally finished packing her bags. The floor underneath her creaked as she took steps to her door, opening it and peaking her head out to make sure that her parents aren’t upstairs. Once the cost was clear, she quickly yet quietly walked to her parents bedroom and got inside.

‘Okay…I hope it’s still in the same spot..’

She thought before walking over to her parents dresser, making sure to watch her steps. As she was walking, she accidentally stubbed her toe onto one of legs of the bed frame.

‘Fuck..!..’

She mentally cursed and her movements froze as she heard downstairs suddenly silent, too silent. The sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs caused her to panic and quickly got under the king sized bed her parents shared.

A hand covering her mouth, making sure to keep quiet so she doesn’t get caught. The footsteps stopped right in front of the door as a shadow loomed under the door. All she heard next was just grumbling and words that she couldn’t make out due to them being slurred.

Her parents were drunk, it was a daily thing with them. Constantly drinking until they possibly drop dead, but of course that didn’t happen yet.

Once the shadow has walked away from the door, she quietly sighed in relief before sliding out from under the bed and quickly crawling over to the closet. Reaching for the small brown crystal knobs and opening up the black doors. There was a black box that she new was underneath all the clothes that was stacked on top of it.

‘Yes!…it’s still here..’

She thought before carefully taking out the box and opening it. There was a safe inside. Her fingers placing themselves on the black knob and twisting it then stopping it a few times at the right number combination.

As she put the knob on the last number, she got it opened and her eyes gazed over the cold hard stacks of cash that laid in it.

Relief washed over her as she closed the safe and picked it up, holding onto it for dear life as she stood up. Her legs moved and made her way to the door, peaking out to the quiet hallway and running back to her now empty room.

Nothing left in the room besides a sheet-less mattress, an empty closet, and all of her posters ripped that she did from her anger that was bottled up and finally popping out.

Stuffing the safe in one of the duffel bags she had, putting her two duffel bags on her shoulders and her backpack in her hand. She took her phone out, putting her headphones in and playing some music. The melody and best passing through her ears from her headphones as she made her way to her window.

The house she lived in was about a two story house. Wasn’t too big but also wasn’t too small. She cracked open the window and sat on the window sill with both of her legs dangling on the outside as the back heels of her shoes hit the brick wall. She turned her back to face her room one last time before looking down at her ground below her and jumping down.

When she jumped down and landed on the grass, she stumbled from the quite far jump but managed.

‘Run…run like how you’ve imagined…’

She thought before her legs quickly moved, sprinting through the wet grass and drizzling rain. The music in her ears was the thing that tied it all together.

Running away from your home in the rain while listening to music, feeling free for once. But, that isn’t what free really means. Being free means that you are living your best life with no problems to deal with. If she really was free, she wouldn’t have all these problems and trauma.

But why did it have to be her that had to deal with it all? Why did it have to be her? That’s what she wants answers to.

Out of all of the people in the world, she just had to be chosen for this life that she doesn’t want. It only causes her more pain and suffering. She continues to run until she made it to a train station. Despite it being late, the train station was still opened. Walking over to the ticket slot and buying one that would take her out of the city and to another. She went over with her ticket in hand and stood by the train.

It was quite chilly outside since it was drizzling but the clothes she was wearing is enough to keep her warm for a while. The train passing by her and many others standing by in the speed of light, it was beautiful since the train was covered in cherry blossom art.

The train came to a stop and the doors opened. People coming out of the packed train and she walked in after those people have left. She managed to find a seat and sat down with a small sigh leaving her lips. The train did get packed pretty quick but it was no problem for her since as long as she has her music then it’s fine.

It felt calming, maybe a little too calming but it was better than she had expected let alone imagined.

Hours and hours have gone by and the train finally came to a stop, the speakers saying her destination and she stood up along with some other people who were on the train. She made sure her bags were with her and walked out of the train, her nostrils taking in the relaxing earthy atmosphere from the rain that lingered in the air.

She started to walk around the empty streets, lights coming from building signs and the stars lit up the dark streets. It was stunning, almost like a fantasy dream. Her legs made her stop at an apartment complex. The outside was unreal. Magnificent was the best word to describe it in her mind.

“A red carpet? A little too fancy for my humble ass..”

She mumbled before walking in, her hand gripping the golden handle and pulling it opened. The inside was definitely something that didn’t even look real. It was too perfect. A big white chandelier hanging from above with gold and white marble walls with a white tile floor that had the logo of the building in the dead center of the floor in black.

“Hello and welcome to the Inashoji Paradise! How may I assist you?” The front desk person spoke to her as she made her way over to him.

“Hi, I would like to get a room?” She greeted the polite man as he flashed her a smile, showing off his pearly whites and typed on the keyboard.

“Alright, do you have an id? Since you are minor by the looks of you, you must have an id.” The man spoke and looked up from his computer screen and at her.

She gulped thickly as she didn’t have an id, at least not yet. “I-…don’t have an id, but I do work! I have a job and I do part time online.” She spoke.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to need some kind of id. I can’t let you.” An apologetic expression placed on his face.

“Please. I really need this. I’ll do anything.” Her voice desperate for help just to get the apartment room, making the desk man sigh.

“Okay, I’ll give you a room, but, you need to at least have a school to go to. Cause you can’t only just have a job.” He said, finally giving in.

“Thank you.! I’ll make sure, thank you so much.” She thanked him frantically as he handed her a card.

“That’s a school I recommend and it’s really close by, it’s just a five minute walk to it.” A smile placed on his lips and he gives her a key to her room.

“5th floor, room 306 on the left. Enjoy your stay.” She took the key and card, bowing to him then walking to the elevator. She got in and pressed the button to the fifth floor. The doors shutting and the elevator moving up then stopping with a ding. The doors opened up and she walked out, looking at the door numbers until she reached room 306.

She put the key inside the key hole and twisted it, a click snapping and the door opening. The room was really good looking, it even smelled nice and fresh.

Her feet moving towards the bedroom and placing the bags on the floor.

Plopping down on the mattress, the soft surface making her sink into it and she looked up at the white ceiling.

“I wonder how that school is gonna be like.” She mumbled to herself and closed her eyes, her body falling limp and going into a deep sleep.

The sunlight flashing through the curtains making her groan from the sudden flash. She looked at her phone.

7:23 a.m.

‘I guess I should go to that school and sign up.’

Rubbing the sleep away from her eyes, she sat up and stretched her arms out. She went over to her duffel bag, taking out some clothes and going to the shower. The shower was relaxing, the nice not too hot water hitting her skin as she felt warm take over the coldness that she was covered in from the rain.

After getting out, she dried her hair and body then put on some sweats and a hoodie. It was still pretty chilly out so she didn’t want to get cold again. Stepping out of the apartment and to the elevator and making her way to the main floor.

“Good morning, Y/n!” The same desk person from last night greeted with a warm smile.

“Hey, good morning….” She dragged before looking down at his name tag. “Fujisiko.”

He let out a small laugh which was pretty cute. “You need directions to the school?” He asked.

“Yes please.”

“Alright, I’ll have someone cover for me and I’ll take you down there and help you get set up. I went to that school so I know everything about it.” A cheeky smile as he stood up, getting a co-worker to cover for him and walked to the main entrance. He pulled the gold bar handle and offered her to go first.

“After you.” She thanked him and walked through with him behind her. Small puddles on the ground from the rain of the night before as they walked in comfortable silence.

“This might not seem appropriate to ask but, how old are you?” Y/n said breaking the silence.

“Oh, I’m 45.” He replied giving a smile which made her look at him in shock.

“What?!…I thought you were at least in your early twenties, you look so young!” She exclaimed.

“Working out and staying on a Healthy balanced lifestyle keeps the skin lookin silky smooth and young.” He said with a shrug.

‘In order to stay looking young, I gotta work out and stay on a balanced lifestyle? Noted…’

She made a mental note and kept walking with him in comfortable silence.

“Alright, here we are!” He said as they made it to a huge building.

“Woah…” She mumbled staring at it.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the main office. If they ask, I’m your dad, okay?” He said to her and she looked over at him with a nod.

He may not look like her father but he does act a little like one.

‘Is this what it feels like to have a dad that actually is nice?…’

A thought popped up in her head before snapping back to reality and quickly following behind Fujisiko who was way ahead of her.

They walked into the building and was greeted with many eyes.

‘Of course people are staring…’

She thought. But then again, Fujisiko has a velvet red and black suit with a gold name tag, black dress shoes, tall, half up half down black hair, brown eyes, a few tattoos, and had a Rolex.

She had her head down to try and avoid the gaze of those around.

“Isn’t that Kowada Fujisiko?!”

“Holy shit you’re right! I heard he’s the owner of Inashoji Paradise!”

“But that’s a really expensive apartment building!”

“Is that his daughter?”

“There’s no way it is.”

She grumbled to herself hearing them whisper only for them to finally make it to the main office.

They walked to the principals room and walked in. The principal looked up and stood up then bowed.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Kowada! How’s the business going?” The principals raspy voice spoke with excitement as Fujisiko.

Fujisiko nervously laughed and bowed in return.

“It’s nice to see you again after many years, principal Juro!” A smile appeared on his lips.

“Oh? and who is this little one?” He asked looking down at Y/n.

“This is Y/n! I want her to enroll here! She’s my…daughter.” Fujisiko said.

“Wow, never knew you had a daughter! Although she doesn’t really look close to you but who am I to judge?” He shrugged and sat back down and offered the two to sit which they did.

“Alright Y/n, what’s your full name and what grade are you in?” Principal Juro asked Y/n.

“My name is L/n Y/n and I’m a sophomore.” She replied.

“Perfect! I’ve been looking for another student to add to the sophomore class. I hope you don’t mind, every class is full of males except gym class. Gym class has very few females but at least you won’t be uncomfortable only being surrounded by males.”

He said as he started typing on his computer, putting her information into the school system. The printer make some noises and a paper came out. He grabbed the paper and handed it to her. She looked down and it was her classes.

First period: Algebra II

Second period: ELA

Third period: World History

Fourth period: Physics

Fifth period: Business Class

Sixth period: Gym

Extra: Advisory (only 30 minutes!)

Seventh period: Free Hour

Fujisiko peaked over her shoulder and his brows twitched in confusion.

“She’s a sophomore, why does she have junior and senior classes?” He asked and looked at the principal.

Juro crossed his arms and leaned back in his rolling chair.

“Well, since I looked up her name and got her records from her previous school she has amazing records. Also, those classes are the same classes that she was taking in her previous school.”

He explained making Fujisiko nod.

“Go to the front desk lady and let her bring you a few pairs of our uniforms. If you want pants you can just ask her for it instead of a skirt. Even though the pants are strictly for the males only, I’ll let you have them.” He said with a smile and the two stood up and bowed, thanking him before leaving the office.

They made it to the front desk lady and she looked at them.

“What can I do for you?” She asked.

“I would like a few pairs of the uniform…but instead of the skirt, can I get the pants?” Y/n asked.

She raised a brow. “The pants are strictly for the males.”

“Principal Juro said that it’s okay for her to get it.” Fujisiko said making her hum and stand up.

She walked to the back and came back with three pairs of the uniform top and three pairs of the uniform pants.

She handed it to them and smiled slightly.

“Hope to see you tomorrow early young lady, have a good rest of your day.” She said and the two walked out.

“How do you feel?” He asked Y/n as they walked away from the school campus.

“What if I don’t fit in? What if they start bullying me all cause I’m the new student? Or if they look at me weird because I’m wearing the boys uniform and not the skirt like all the rest of the girls?…”

She rambled making him look down at her as they walked back to the apartment complex.

“Hey, hey hey, it’s gonna be alright. You don’t have to worry about anything. If they do something let me know.” He reassured her making her slightly calm down.

He hands her a piece of paper.

“Here, it’s my number. Whenever you need me or just wanna hang, I’m always available. But, I’ll text you my working hours so that you know when to not text me, understand?”

His voice changing from soft to suddenly strict and stern, making her gulp and nods. He laughed and ruffled her hair.

“Get a good nights sleep, kid.” He said and went back to the front desk.

A sigh leaving her lips and she went back to her room. Once she made it to her room, she plopped down on the soft mattress.

“I hope it’s not too bad…”

She mumbled before closing her eyes and falling asleep, while thinking of how her day is going to go.

Tag list: -@reiners-milkbiddies, @melou008.

(Let me know in the comments if you wanna be added!)

[musings-of-a-rose]

I Don't Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) - Chapter 2

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader nicknamed "Juni"

Word Count: 3200+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I've had this idea in my head for well over a year and with the Fallout show being dropped (and absolutely AMAZING), I figured now was the time to post it! So this is a Triple Frontier/Fallout crossover au. Huge shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to probably hours of audio at this point of me talking myself through this fic. And to @deathbecomesnerds for listening to me prattle on about video game fics and giving me her own advice.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

I Don’t Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) Masterlist

As my brain starts to wake up, the first thing I notice is that I'm cold. Like, really cold. The aches in my body feel like when you fall asleep and don't move the entire night, your muscles and bones stiff from a few hours of inactivity. How long does decontamination normally take? And why is it so cold?

Slowly, I pry my eyes open, blinking as rapidly as I can, feeling little icicles on my eyelashes. My head had been slumped to the side, the slight crick in my neck making itself known, the ache radiating down into my shoulder. I gasp, my lungs burning like they hadn't had a good breath in a long while. What the fuck was happening?

Slowly, I start to feel my limbs so I give my toes and fingers a little wiggle, managing to make them move. Then I work my way up my body. The more I can move, the more I start to panic. There's nowhere to move in this metal box. I weakly move my hand into a fist, pounding pathetically on the glass window in front of me. Oh God, what if it doesn't open? Isn't there someone who will open it?

Before I can spiral further, the door in front of me hisses and opens up with a loud groan, metal grinding against metal. I fall out, my hands coming up just in time to slow my fall as I slam against the hard floors. I cough, gasping for fresh air as my body starts to warm up. I manage to get up and sit on my knees, chest still heaving as I take in gulps of air. Where are the labcoats? Surely they didn't forget about us?

My eyes start to focus and I stare at a point in front of me until my vision clears. I blink hard a few times before looking around, a nervous tension starting to ball itself up in my stomach. The room is dark, save for some emergency lighting. The paint on the walls is chipped, dust covering some of the machinery that I remember being bright and shiny. I look around, slowly standing to my feet when it hits me.

It's completely silent.

No hissing of the machinery, no beeping, no sounds of people. Nothing. I take a tentative step towards the machine next to mine, catching myself on the little computer panel as I stumble. Glancing up into the pod, I see someone in there, eyes closed, still, and silent. I tap a few buttons on the panel but nothing happens. I reach out and knock on the window but the person inside doesn't move. I repeat this process on every pod in the room and get the same results, my heart thumping, the rate increasing rapidly with every pod. No one is awake and judging by the lack of sound, I'm not sure they're even alive. Not anymore.

I shake my limbs out, working some of the final stiffness out of them. Where is everyone? Why hasn’t anyone come around to check on people? Surely there are systems in place for this? I cautiously approach the door to the room. To my surprise, it's already open. I pop my head out and look in the hallway. Completely empty. I find another 5 rooms like the one I was in, every one exactly like mine. My body is fully awake by the last room, my breaths coming out quick and shallow to match my racing heart, panicked tears falling down my cheeks that I furiously try to wipe away. Am I the only one left alive?

Through my increasing panic, I finally find a computer not attached to a pod and somehow, it's still on. I sit in the chair and wipe at my eyes with my sleeve. I click around and am surprised it wasn't better locked down. The scientist that used it kept a very detailed journal of what happened. I read all of the entries, my heart sinking and blood boiling with every new one.

Apparently, they were not decontamination chambers but cryo ones. As in they froze us. Which would explain why it had been so cold. They were going to keep us under for varying degrees of time, to test the effects of cryo sleep on humans. Test? What the fuck? But they had only planned to be down here about 10 years or so. When it was reaching the end of those 10 years, rations started to dwindle and there was no communication with Vault-Tech outside of the vault they were in. People started to lose it. There was a mutiny and the Overseer was...wait did I read that right? Killed and fed to everyone still here? Eventually, it looks like everyone died and the generators were to continue on running until they couldn’t. The logs all say there was a malfunction in life support. So I was right - everyone except me is dead.

The feeling of being alone, completely alone, closes in on me, and oh my God what if I can’t get out of here? There’s no one here to let me out. I sit back in the chair, absolutely stunned at what I just read, my mind starting to spiral down a dark path. But...wait. If they froze us, and the mutiny had happened within 10 years...what year was it now?

I lean forward, clicking around to find the slot for a new entry and hit automatic date.

June 10th, 2277

That can't be right. I tap the button again.

June 10th, 2277.

I stare at the date. It's not the months that bother me but the year. 200 years have passed? This has to be a malfunction of the computer. There's no way that's the correct date. But something in the back of my mind tingles, a new feeling of dread deep in my gut. Benny. If it really has been 200 years, then even if he got to a vault and survived, there’s no way he’d be alive. Bile threatens to spill from me and I swallow, trying to prevent it. The computer is wrong, though. Benny is alive still. He has to be. 

I stand up and look down at the skeleton with a labcoat on the ground, wondering if that was the same man who had smiled creepily at me as I got into that frozen coffin. The bones are twisted into an inhuman shape, the arm bent at an odd angle. Right before I look away, I see it. The small computer wrapped around the skeleton’s arm. I kneel down, hesitating for a moment before reaching over, trying to pry the Pip Boy computer from around its forearm. It's like it's stuck on the bones and I gag a little as I slam the arm down, the hand bones scattering. But the Pip Boy slides right off.

I pick it up, dust it off a little with my hand and slide it onto my arm, feeling the slight pinch of the sensors embedding themselves into my skin. I turn a few buttons, having used one at the university when I was studying, and the screen lights up, my face washed in the familiar green glow, giving me some small bit of comfort in its familiarity. I navigate to the map section and it shows me the layout of the vault. Using the little light on the side of the Pip Boy, I follow the map towards the front of the vault, slowly making my way past debris and other corpses, some in very violent positions. One of them has their boney fingers wrapped around a large knife. A machete. Holding back another gag, I manage to pry it from the person's death grip, shifting it from hand to hand. I hold it in the opposite hand from the Pip Boy, just in case I need to swing. But surely nothing is down here, right? The vaults are sealed shut. So I should be safe. I think…I hope.

Everything is so fucking quiet it's almost deafening. I feel like the walls are closing in on me, trying to lock me away forever in this tomb, just like my fellow vault occupants. What was Vault Tec thinking?

I make it to the front entrance, the giant, heavy metal vault door securely closed. My eyes scan the room and land on a small control panel, more skeletons in labcoats scattered around it. I walk over to it, staring down at the simple panel. How the fuck does this work? I smash the big button but nothing happens. There's a round slot on the left side and I remember the Pip Boy has a sensor module. I pop out the sensor cord and plug it in, the panel lights immediately light up. A small sigh of relief escapes me. Thank God there's power! My Pip Boy lights up, telling me the remote door access is ready. But I hesitate before hitting the button again. Assuming this door opens, all I have is a machete. And if that computer is anywhere close to being right, I have no idea what the surface will even look like.

I unplug the Pip Boy and look around again, spotting a room off to the side labeled SECURITY. Thankfully, the door opens to a small room with a couple of desks and several lockers. A few of them don't open but others do and I'm quickly furnished with some sort of hand gun, a shot gun that I sling over my back, and some ammo. I also score a couple cans of purified water, some Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, a Salisbury Steak, and some Yum Yum Deviled Eggs. It's not much, but I'm better than I was. I just won't think about how old this food is, even if the computer is wrong. One of the dead security guards was holding a backpack. I take it, shake off some dust and find more ammo inside and another purified water. I put all the food and ammo into the bag and secure it, sliding it around my back, and moving the shotgun to my arm.

I decide to do one last sweep of the small vault before heading back to the main access vault door. I find a small blanket and an axe, along with another couple of boxes of food, half-eaten, and some old comics. Grognak the Barbarian. Benny loved these. Tears well in my eyes, that bile rising in the back of my throat at the idea of him being gone. I shake my head, pushing the intrusive thoughts aside, and slide the comics into my backpack. 

I repeat the process at the panel, with no hesitation in pressing the large, red button this time. The heavy metal of the round vault door groans, sparks flying from some of the unused gears helping the vault door to spin open, revealing the elevator we came down on. My mind flashes back to that moment, just barely escaping with our lives. It was mere minutes ago to me and I haven't really had a moment to process it. Any of this. I just need to get somewhere safe. Or at least familiar, to get my bearings.

I head down the walkway and hesitate for a moment before stepping onto the platform. I punch the button on the cage wall surrounding me and the gate door I came through closes. Slowly and with creaks and groans, the floor starts to rise, leaving the cage and vault behind. Again, I'm thrust into darkness for a short bit, my breath coming out in heavy pants. I'm not even sure if it's safe up here, but if I'd stayed down there I'd have died anyway so what does it matter?

Pure, blinding light breaks the darkness as I'm lifted up, the platform settling onto its original spot and locking in place. I lift my hand to shield my eyes from the bright sun, momentarily blinded by it. I blink rapidly, squinting a bit more before things come into focus and now I have to blink back tears.

Destruction. Everything is sort of grey and leveled, some occasional muted green popping up in weird angles, like weeds coming through a sidewalk. I can see the skyline of Boston in the distance, the buildings mostly gone into piles of rubble or mostly rubble. Some still stand, like broken scraggly fingers that were too stubborn to fully fall. Benny had been there and if he survived, he was buried underneath all of that.

I tear my eyes away from the horror and turn to head back down the path that will lead me to my parent's home where I had been when....no. I can't think about that until I'm in a safe place. A faint, high-pitched squeak brings me from my dark thoughts and I turn just in time to see something fly at me. I react on instinct, trying to dodge but fall, the thing managing to clip my shoulder as it comes at me. I grip the machete tight in my hand and bring it up just as the world's biggest fucking roach jumps on me, its pinchers at least the length of my fingers, its body easily half the length of me. Its legs scramble as it screams, my machete having ripped through it. I yell as I push with all I can to move it off me, tossing it to the side as I scramble backward as fast as I can manage. What the fuck is that thing? It's still moving so I stand up and promptly kick its head in with my boot several times, continuing to do so long after it had stopped moving. My skin crawls as I look at the size of this thing.

Of course. Everything would've been radiated. Deer with two heads, giant fucking bugs, apparently. Weren’t roaches supposed to outlive us all, especially in the case of nuclear war? It only makes sense that mutations would've happened. But if this happened to roaches, what else has happened?

My body shudders at the thought and I tuck that one away for later. I yank my machete out of the giant fucking roach, flinging off its gooey guts and wiping it off in the dirt before starting back down the path. Fortunately, no other wildlife crosses my path as I step back onto the street that runs past my parent's house.

The neighborhood is...gone. Most of the houses are either completely destroyed or half crumbling, the previously perfectly manicured yards no longer exist. New plants have taken over, their foreign petals and colors intriguing the scientist side of me, but I keep my distance, not knowing what fresh hell they could bring upon humans.  Besides, that's not what I'm here for.

I turn and walk slowly down the street, my eyes sweeping from side to side. I spot movement and as my eyes focus on it, I nearly scream with excitement. I start to run towards it, almost crashing into the Mr. Handy robot that had been my family's.

"Hawthorne?" I gasp, my eyes wide with wonder.

His large metal head spins towards me, his round metal eye widening as he takes me in. "Ma'am? Miss Juni?"

I can't help but cry tears of joy. Something, someone that remembers me! For the first time since I woke in that vault turned tomb, I don’t feel alone.

"It's me! I can't believe you're still here!"

Hawthorne launches into a retelling of his time here, how the bombs pretty much destroyed most of Boston, how our fellow neighbors that didn't have a spot in the vaults died within hours of the initial blasts, although some took a few days. Others...I'm not sure what he's talking about. Ghouls? I’ll have to ask him more about that later. But then he's on another topic, discussing how hard it is to maintain the property for the last 200 years and how lonely he's been waiting for us and- wait. What?

"Hawthorne?"

"Ma'am?"

"I...I am sorry you had to deal with all of this alone."

"Thank you, ma'am. I do understand that humans are fragile things and had you remained with me, you would not have survived. I am very glad you did not die."

"Thank you, Hawthorne. I'm glad you're here too. But.. to confirm, did you say 200 years?

"Yes ma'am."

"200 years… since what?"

"Since the bombs fell, ma'am."

I can feel the blood drain from my face. "What's the date?"

"June 10th, 2277."

My legs start to wobble and I slump to the ground, putting my head in my hands as I rest my elbows on my bent legs. 200 years? I thought the computer had malfunctioned. But it all makes sense. The state of the vault, the way things look, that radroach thing...I feel my breathing picking up, hyperventilating as realization dawns on me.

I was right before. It doesn't matter if Benny made it to a vault. He would've lived a full life and died a long time ago.

The scream erupting from my throat is the last thing I remember before my vision fades to black.

When I wake, I'm in a bed. Well, on a mattress anyway. I look around without moving and realize I'm in my old bedroom, the one my parents never quite remade into anything else. Most of the walls are intact, only the one with the window is missing half the panels. And the roof only has a few holes in it. Nothing that Benny and I can't-

Benny.

I turn to my side just in time, throwing up whatever was in my stomach for the last 200 years onto the floor. But that's nothing compared to the hole in my chest, the one that ripped itself open at the realization that I would have to face this new, broken world without my other half, my anchor. My stomach doesn't settle, still churning at the thought, the tears pouring from my eyes as I curl into myself. I don't even say anything to Hawthorne as he comes in and cleans the mess, setting down one of the bottles of purified water and some snacks from my backpack on the cracked nightstand.

What's even the point of going on if I don't have him with me?

Unless….

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk  

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Shielded Heart - Part Three

Part two Warnings: Smut, angst. Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Aemond is yours and you are his, but what happens when you're both forced to choose between duty and true love?

“I’m only of any value as a bargaining tool as long as I still have my virtue. I intend to give it away.”

Aemond felt as though he’d been plunged into icy water. His eye went wide at your revelation. For a moment he forgot how to breathe.

When he didn’t move to say anything, you scoffed, turned on your heel and continued down the hill.

Spurred into action by your retreating form, Aemond’s faculties were restored and he rushed after you, his heart threatening to beat its way out of his chest – not from exertion, but from sheer panic. He grabbed for your arm, harder than he meant to, making you wince and hiss in pain as you turned in his grasp.

“Get off of me!” you spat, attempting to wrench yourself free, “You’re hurting me!”

“Not as much as you are hurting me”, thought Aemond, though he loosened his grip nevertheless, guiding you back towards the wall once more.

“Don’t do this”, he said, trying and failing to keep the desperation of his plea at bay.

“Why does it matter so much to you?!” you scowled up at him, “Worried your precious mother will be upset that I’ve squandered her attempt to meddle with my life?!”

Aemond rolled his eye, tensing his jaw at the slight against Alicent, before leaning in close to speak to you. “It matters because you should not give yourself to some wine soaked peasant in a flea infested slum.”

“It matters because you were supposed to give yourself to me” was what he desperately wanted to say instead. The thought of another man caressing you, kissing you, getting to have you in the same way he’d imagined every time he’d spilled inside his breeches while rutting against you, as you’d both kissed passionately. It made him sick to his stomach. The cruel irony that he’d held back all this time in hopes to wed you, only for you to be betrothed to someone else and then give it up to a total stranger would have made him laugh were it not for the fact it made his heart twist so painfully.

“Oh, I see”, you said loudly, mock realisation dripping from every word, “So the wares of the Silk Streets are for Targaryen use only? Fine for you to fuck every whore in King’s Landing, but gods forbid I do the same. Is that why you always refused to lay with me? Does my cunt not measure up to the one you paid two silvers for?!”

You saw the look of hurt flash like a beacon across Aemond’s face and you relished it, an evil smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. After all the pain he’d caused you, he deserved taste of his own medicine.

Aemond was stunned. You hadn’t spoken of his brothel experience since the night it had happened. He’d assumed it was water under the bridge. He was in utter disbelief that you were throwing it in his face. How fucking dare you. His initial hurt and shock shifted to anger, his eye darkening as he placed a hand on the wall beside your head, gripping your jaw with the other. “Bitch!” he breathed as he glared down at you.

Your smirk faltered upon hearing his insult. Aemond had never spoken to you with such disrespect before. About to open your mouth to respond, you were cut off by the impact of his lips colliding against yours, your words coming out in an “mmmph!” instead.

He kissed you fiercely, unable to hold back from you any longer. Anger was not an emotion he was used to you evoking from him and he longed to put things right, and so he did. The only way he knew how.

You quickly melted at his touch, the familiarity and warmth making it all too easy to relent as his tongue brushed against yours. You clung to his cloak, sighing as the tension you’d been harbouring in your shoulders slowly started to lift.

He pressed his forehead to yours as you broke apart, fingers softly stroking your cheek. For the first time in 24 hours he felt stilled and at peace. “Vēzos qēlossās ñuho” he murmured. My sun and stars.

The moment the kiss was over, reality hit. It all felt overwhelming. You were kissing the man you loved, but he didn’t love you back. You were still betrothed to a man you were repulsed by. Nothing had changed. The dam broke and you had no way of stopping it, as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. “I hate you” you whimpered, sullen, childlike and not at all true.

Aemond’s eye closed as he pulled you close, stroking your hair and allowing you to cry into him. “I know, ñuha jorrāelagon, I’m sorry.” My love.

As your cries subsided and you began to pull away, Aemond eyed you carefully. “Do you still intend to…?” he asked, unable to complete the sentence.

You sniffled, nodding. “I can’t marry him, Aemond, I can’t!”

“I understand”, he said, “Come with me then.”

“Where are we going?” you enquired, as he took your hand and guided you along beside him.

“If you are to give your virtue away in this shithole, then I shall be the one to take it.”

Too stunned to say anything else, you simply followed as the one eyed prince led you through the winding streets of King’s Landing.

“What is this place?” you asked.

Aemond had brought you to a dank, unassuming hovel and began lighting candles once he’d ushered you inside.

“Aegon’s favourite hiding place”, Aemond responded, continuing his work to illuminate the small space, “I’ve dragged him out of here enough times now to know exactly where it is. We’ll be undisturbed here.”

You weren’t deaf to the implication; we won’t get caught.

Once you had sufficient light to see by, he moved to stand in front of you. Slowly, he pushed the cloak from your shoulders before removing his own. “Iksā sīr gevie” he whispered, before kissing you softly, manoeuvring you back towards the bed. You are so beautiful.

Aemond longed to take his time with you, to worship you as you deserved, however, he did not wish to prolong the time you had to spend within this foul smelling shack. He owed you that much.

As you were pushed back onto the bed, you squirmed at the lumpiness of the scratchy hay stuffed mattress. So far removed from the soft down bedding of the Red Keep. You were brought back into the moment with a breathy sigh as Aemond’s fingertips grazed the insides of your legs, pushing them apart while simultaneously lifting your skirts to make space for himself.

As he hovered above you, you were suddenly struck by a wave of uncertainty. You needed for this to mean something, anything.

“Please”, you whispered, voice cracking as tears pricked your eyes once more, “Please, Aemond, tell me you love me. You don’t have to mean it. Just, please…” The force of the sob that forced its way out of you rendered you incapable of finishing your sentence.

In that moment Aemond had never felt such intense hatred for himself. He couldn’t believe he’d ever made you doubt his feelings for you. Never bothered to make sure you were certain that you were the one thing his entire universe centred around. You owned his heart. All of it.

“I can’t do this”, he muttered, moving away to sit on the edge of the small, single bed.

You cried harder, curling in on yourself to face away from him. It was happening all over again. He was breaking your heart.

“Look at me. Please.” Aemond’s voice was unsteady against the lump in his throat, as his fingers ghosted across your temple.

You turned your head slightly to face him, the candlelight reflected in the wetness that rimmed your lash lines.

“I do love you. And that’s why I can’t do this. I don’t want a quick fumble in the place that my brother brings every street rat he happens across. Your maidenhead should be reserved for your wedding night.”

You sat up, not daring to breathe in case the sound halted his confession. Noticing the wetness that dripped slowly down his right cheek, you longed to reach out and wipe it away, but resisted.

“I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you. And I suppose I was afraid to tell you because things never seem to work out in my favour. I couldn’t bear to lose you too. But then I did. I have always put duty, honour and family before everything, but I can’t this time. Where is the honour in letting the person I love most in the world go to satisfy inconsequential politicking? It would be craven of me. I want you to be my wife. The mother of my children. I long to make sure you feel every bit as desired as you deserved. If you’ll have me?”

The uncertainty of the question at the end of his confession made your heart ache. You crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and held him close. “Oh, Aemond, I’ve longed to hear you say you love me. Of course I’ll have you!”

He smiled up at you, arms encircling your waist. “I have told you I love you many a time. It’s not my fault you couldn’t understand me.”

You snorted a laugh, burying your face in his neck. “None of this solves anything though”, you sighed, “I am still betrothed to a Lannister.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it”, Aemond muttered darkly.

“What do you mean?”

“Trust me. I have a plan.”

The courtyard of the Red Keep darkened suddenly, black as night as Vhagar made her descent. Impossibly long and sharp talons boring into the earth as she landed heavily, sending people scattering as she let out a throaty rumble of displeasure at the tight confines of her landing.

Your knuckles were white with the tightness of your grip on her reigns. Aemond’s arms held you snugly against him. This would feel like any other ride were it not for the potentially dire consequences of what Aemond was about to do. Hence your iron clad grip on the only available surface capable of grounding you.

A handful of dragonkeepers and servants had elected not to flee upon seeing the behemoth lowering to the ground. They knew it would be the prince atop her and there would be orders to follow once he dismounted.

Aemond made no move to climb down from Vhagar, instead shouting down to the servants who looked up imploringly, fear evident in their widened eyes and pallid complexions.

“Bring my mother to me”, he ordered, “And that Lannister cunt!”

Aemond wasn’t foolish. He knew a demand such as this, alongside the entrance he’d chosen to make, would secure the attention of more than just Alicent and Jason.

He was right, of course. Alicent made her way out to the courtyard flagged by your father, Otto and Jason. Aegon and Helaena followed at a distance, their curiosity obviously piqued.

“Aemond, what is the meaning of this?” Alicent demanded, while attempting to sound stern, the worry etched across her features was more than apparent.

“We come with a proposal”, he said, giving your shaking frame a reassuring squeeze before nuzzling your neck to reassure you.

Your saw your father balk at the sight, muttering under his breath.

“We wish to marry”, you called down to your wide eyed spectators, “Break off my betrothal to Jason Lannister. Aemond and I are to be wed.”

Alicent faltered, looking back to Otto for guidance. He wasted no time in rushing forward to offer his input.

“This is a disgrace on all of our houses!” he said angrily, “A match has been made that will strengthen Aegon’s claim to the throne. Come down at once and we will forget this treason.”

“I’m not giving her up”, Aemond said simply, “The Lannisters will still get their match. A better one.”

“Who?” Alicent asked, gripping her father’s arm when he made to protest.

“Jaehaera.”

“She is but a babe!” Otto scoffed.

“Precisely”, Aemond said smugly, “We will betroth them until she comes of age and then they will wed. This will give Jason more time for his whoring.”

Aemond smirked, noticing Jason’s obvious discomfort. “Tell me, Lord Lannister, how was the serving girl? I believe Aegon had her first, but I do hope she was to your satisfaction.”

When Jason made no move to respond, Aemond continued. “The betrothal is still an alliance between our houses. The Targaryen name carries more prestige. With it comes our protection, our dragons. All we ask is their full support for Aegon’s claim to the throne.”

He then turned his attention to your father. “Would you not rather wed your only daughter to a Targaryen than a Lannister? I can assure you my feelings for her are true. She would be treated better by me than any match you could possibly hope to make for her.”

Your father nodded. “I will accept it.”

“And what if I don’t?” Jason finally spoke up, finally finding his voice.

Aemond shrugged offhandedly, his lip quirking slightly. “I’ll just have to see what sort of mood Vhagar finds herself in the next time we happen to fly over Casterly Rock.”

The Lannister visibly paled before nodding. “Very well.”

“What of you, sister?” Aemond addressed Helaena, “Do you agree to this match?”

She looked uneasy for a moment, before speaking. “I just want for Jaehaera to be happy. And of age. You will wait until she is of age?”

“We will” Aemond reassured.

“With any luck the stupid prick will be dead by then” Aegon muttered.

“Well, then, it is settled.” Aemond decided, “Mother, Grandsire, are you happy to make the necessary arrangements?”

Otto appeared to be about to object again, until Alicent spoke over him. “There are certainly more appropriate ways you could have gone about this, Aemond, but as this proposal is agreeable to everyone, we shall proceed.”

Despite Aemond’s act of rebellion against his family, he was still eager to respect his mother’s wishes. With this in mind, the pair of you were married under the Seven, in the sept, despite the fact that Aemond would have preferred a traditional Valyrian rite.

The incense made it difficult to breathe, the Septon droned on for far too long and there were too many people that neither of you cared for gathered to watch. In spite of all of this, you couldn’t have been happier and the twinkle in Aemond’s eye as he looked down at you reassured you that he felt the same.

“I am yours and you are mine” you chanted in unison, before sharing a short but sweet kiss, and with it the fulfilment of a lifelong dream for both of you. You were finally husband and wife.

The ceremony may have been traditional, however, what followed was decidedly much more in keeping with yours and Aemond’s relationship. He helped you dismount from Vhagar, lifting the skirts of your wedding gown to prevent you from tripping.

The tickle of the grassy hillside on your back felt like a welcome home as Aemond laid you down, stripping you bare with the care of a maester unravelling a priceless artifact.

You clung to him, doe eyes shining bright with adoration for your husband and, as he finally entered you, the stretch and sting was negligible compared to the feeling of completeness at finally having him inside of you.

“I love you, vēzos qēlossās ñuho” he whispered once fully sheathed within you. My sun and stars.

“And I love you, valzȳrys” you uttered back. Husband.

His eye widened in surprise, the utterance of High Valyrian from your lips unexpected. The sound sent a jolt straight to his cock.

You giggled, bumping your nose against his. “I’ve been learning.”

He kissed you deeply, slowly beginning to thrust until he felt you relax, then picked up the pace.

You gasped, arching against him as you felt him repeatedly nudge a spot inside of you that made you see stars.

On the grassy hillside where you’d spent so many days together in secret, you both reached your peak together. Aemond spilled deeply insight of you, groaning, as you cried out his name. A sense of peace settled over you both. Finally allowed to lower your shields and love each other openly as husband and wife, you felt unguarded and invincible for the first time in your lives.

Fin.

Tag list (this is a side blog, so I cannot reply to requests for tags, I will simply edit the fic to add you, so that I remember to tag you in the next part): @munsonswrld @100layersofdaddyissues @bellameshipper @crazylokonugget @mddieeunson @crispmarshmallow @afro-hispwriter @padfooteyes @kiribrima @letmeloveyouuuu @malfoytargaryen @zephyg-06 @julczimozart @helloitsshitzulover @schniiipsel @1800-fight-me @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @blazzlynch

[queenofmistresses]

can you do headcannons of blitz and a reader who has c-ptsd? like him accidentally triggering them, and then the reader tells him (or not) about what happened, then him trying his best to comfort whenever another trigger happens or sees them in distress? or smth like that (i have c-ptsd and it’s been a rough week lmao)

a/n Hey lovely! hope that this is good!! sorry you've had a tough week babes, and I hope that this makes it feel a little better!! I used my experience with c-ptsd and how easy it is to get triggered and spiral from the slightest change in other peoples behaviours so I hope it resonates with you... or I hope it doesn't because it's not nice... you know what i mean...

He doesn't even have a fucking client to kill for and he's still at work. I've asked Loona and she said that they haven't had a new client all week. Jesus if he didn't want to spend time with me he should have just said so, I can take it! But why doesn't he? He normally seems to like it. Did I do something? Okay calm down. There's no reason to panic right?! Let's just... make him some lunch and take it in for him and I'm sure he'll explain everything then and it'll be fine!

I desperately try to keep telling myself it'll be fine as I walk into IMP with 2 packed lunches in hand. I drop one of them off on Loona's desk where she's on her phone and she looks up and gives me a small smile, thanking me before she looks back at her phone. Okay so nothing weird there, Loona would know if something was wrong so everything must be fine right?

I lightly tap on the door with a warning and let myself in, trying to smile brightly and walk to the desk. He doesn't even glance up at me. "H-hey Blitzø, I brought lunch!" I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, which isn't much. He makes a slight grunting noise in acknowledgement and doesn't stop working.

Oh god. I've messed it all up. I don't know what I did but I must have done something. I feel tears filling my eyes as I stand over his desk. Shit. I quickly rush out of the room, shutting the door gently behind me and avoiding making eye contact with Loona as I sniff and wipe my eyes. I feel Loona look at me but I practically run out of the room and the building, heading straight home.

By the time I get there I can barely breathe and I'm heaving in the smallest amounts in the hopes of getting something in. My eyes search the room and I find the smallest corner that I could fit myself into a rush towards it, squeezing myself in and bringing my knees up to bury myself into them.

Now the tears are streaming down my face faster than I can breathe and I want to die and I can't breathe and why can't I fucking breathe? I've started to feel light headed and I don't know how long I've been sat here for but I know that I'm taking up too much space and I need to shrink. My arms tighten around my knees and I pull myself into an impossibly smaller ball and fucking hell it isn't enough. I barely know where I am. Am I 5 years old hiding in my room after being shouted at? Am I 9 years old crying because everyone in my house keeps ignoring me and why does no one ever want me around? Am I 21 with my boyfriend telling me just how stupid and pathetic I am? Am I 23 with my next boyfriend telling me that I'm making shit up just to make myself the victim? I don't know. I can't tell anymore. It's like every moment of my life is happening at once and at the same time my mind is empty and numb and hollow.

Somewhere in the distance I hear a door open but I can't register it over the fog of my mind and the ringing in my ears. Hands touch me and I flinch, pulling away hard. It must just be another part of my mind. But then, I don't know when anyone's touch has felt so gentle. I can hear them talking. Some part of me feels safe at the sound of their voice, and while my head is screaming at me to run and hide, I try to focus on their voice, on what they're saying. To focus on where they're touching me.

The tears slow and I can breathe again and I realise where I am. And more specifically who is holding me so sweetly. I feel his tail wrapped tight around one of my legs, and his arms holding me against his chest. When did he start holding me like this? I didn't even feel him move me around.

“Shh shh it’s okay, it’s just me.” I hear him whisper among a series of sweet sentiments as he tries to reassure me. I look up at him, barely registering how awful I must look, and meet his eyes. He looks so scared, but at the same time I’ve never seen him this soft. “Here there, you’re back!” His voice has turned nervous now as he looks away and scratches the back of his head.

“I- um-” I sniff, "Oh god Blitz you must think I'm so fucking pathetic I'm so fucking sorry." The fear starts to set in again, knowing how this goes every single time. Why was he even here? But now he just looks confused.

"Sorry?! Why are you sorry?? I mean I don't really fucking understand what's going on but I don't think you're pathetic babe. Know who's pathetic? Moxxie. And you are no Moxxie." He looks both serious and distracted at the same time, clearly thinking about Mox for a moment before bringing his attention back to me. “W-what is going on?” He stumbles on his words as he asks and even though it terrifies me to bare my soul to him, I can see the concern on his face and I can’t keep it in.

Next thing I know I’m talking way more than I had planned. Spilling my entire life to him. And he listens. Somehow he doesn’t even interrupt, and Blitzø is the king of interrupting. But he stays quiet, and I can see that he’s absorbing every word.

He holds me for the rest of the night, reassuring me that he’s not going anywhere, apologising for brushing me off and explaining he was trying to come up with an idea for advertisement of the business. I feel exhausted after my breakdown but I force my eyes to stay open as long as possible until I fall asleep, comfortably surrounded by his entire body.

[valya-kingoftherats]

Fair Fight

Your back hits the mat with a muffled thud, and you swear for a second you can't breathe. Doesn't matter. You are back on your feet quicker than any human would have any right to be. Stand up. Square your shoulders. Feet apart but not too much. Ready for her.

"Again." You growl. Chest heaving with every breath. You aren't giving up. You can't.

She doesn't understand that when you fight her, you're fighting for your life.

"As much as I'd love to keep kicking your ass," stupid smug smile. This time, you are going to wipe it clean off her face. "Maybe it's time you took a break?"

The only reason she's doing any better off than you is because she's won every round today. Every. Single. One. Unacceptable. Pathetic. You need to do better. Have to do better.

You can't read her. Stupid static head that feels no different from them once it gets to trading blows. You need to be able to take her in a fair fight. Then maybe you'll stand a chance if the worst really does happen.

"Sounds like someone's looking for excuses to call it a day." You grin as you taunt her. She won't say no, she won't quit either. "Starting to show your age, Marshal? Thinking about retirement?"

"Given the current score, I'd say I'm not the one who should be looking into retirement." Got her. She's back on the mat and back in position. This time, you won't mess up.

"Esta vez vas a caer, idiota." You think you have got to have the advantage this time. Just because you've lost doesn't mean you never landed any good hits. Unlike you, she must be hurting some.

It's an unfair advantage, but for now, you'll take it.

You may have taught yourself how to fight, but you did a damn good job of it as far as you're concerned. Focus. Stay on the defensive initially. Figure out the normal way how she moves and what her tells for attacks are. It's simple. You can do that.

You dodge the first punch, and you're pretty sure she isn't putting in as much force with her right side. Good. That you can work with. Spin around quicker than she can regain herself and deliver a kick to the back of her shins. She doesn't fall.

Dammit.

She isn't talking anymore. No quips. No teasing. Both of you are solely focused on the fight. Blow for blow. Dodging and countering. When it gets like this, you don't, can't, see her. Just static that's no different from back at the Farm. Can't tell her from them. Spar from genuine fight. It gets hard to sort out the difference and still stay focused enough to remember where you are.

She's back around, and you take a swing only for her to seize your arm and yank you forward. Not so fast. Dead weight. You allow it, and the lack of resistance sends her off balance. The jab to her shoulder lands without a hitch.

See? You are capable. No doubt. Show them who's the weak one. Good for nothing but sitting all dolled up in some stuffy room gathering intel. Fuck that.

They never saw your potential.

You almost miss how her weight shifts. Right foot coming forward, oh so subtly. Not for you, though. You catch the kick coming a mile away and make yourself scarce. You can't keep from smiling. You finally did it.

This round is yours.

You know to lead with your non-dominant foot. Not to telegraph your every move. Just one kick. One to her chest is all you need, you can feel it. You'll have won. Beaten the horrible static, no powers needed.

And it lands. Beautifully. You relish the 'huff' that comes out of her as it connects. Finally. It's all you. No one can touch you. You'll stop them all. Never ag—

"¡Mierda!" Wind rushes by you. She's still quicker than you'd given her credit for. More agile. She took you by the leg and took you down with her. No, not just that. She used you to break her fall. Wind knocked out of you, you try to beat back the surge of panic because you can't breathe for real this time.

"Guess this means I won again." And she's right. She has you pinned. Again.

"Fuck!! Why can't I beat you!? ¡¿Qué carajo me pasa?!" You don't get it? Are you that reliant on being one step ahead? Reading your opponent's every move? Crutches. Too dependant. You need to do better.

You have enough strength to less then gently shove Julia off of you. Back on your feet. Nails digging deep into your palms to beat back the pinpricks of tears starting up in the corners of your eyes. Insult to injury. Pathetic.

"Valya, you good? It's just a sparing match." She's up on her feet and only a few paces behind. "No te tomes las cosas tan en serio."

Hands on you, and you flinch away from invisible touches before you realize you shouldn't do that. Breaths going from exhausted ragged to fearful rapid all too quickly.

She's going to question you about that later. You're sure of it. But she feels like them, and you can't help but react accordingly. Self-preservation. Learned responses.

More hands, but these ones have a presence to them. Tugging you off the mat and away from Julia. "Call it a day. I don't feel like dragging the two of you idiots to the infirmary." Themmy snickers, but you know they're serious.

More quietly, they add, "Hey, you're okay. Whoever you thought you were fighting, they aren't here." They sit down on the bench, and you slump down on the floor between their legs. Relax as they lazily drape themself over you, chin on your head and arms around your shoulders. This is okay. Safe.

You watch as Julia comes to sit on the floor a little ways in front of you. As she takes a pull from her bottle of whatever sports drink she's currently endorsing. That she swears up and down is good, but you're well aware of the way her eyes keep darting to your own bottle of regular water.

You know she'll drink it all in one go, so you down a little more than you really need to before tossing the bottle at her. Maybe with a little more force than needed, but you're still sore from the repeated training failures.

She gulps it down far too fast for someone whose own drink is 'refreshing' and 'good for you.'

You ease up more as Julia and Themmy bicker back and forth about if it's the winner or loser of the day that buys the drinks tonight. Themmy is still a warm presence on top of you, Julia's smile is bright and warm, and she's talking to them, but her eyes are on you.

You can relax. This is your life now. Has been for years. You're okay and need to remember that. Enjoy spending time with your friends.

And you know for certain that next time you'll win the training match.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Injured HCs

The lovely @mattkinsella asked me to write more HCs about how the boys react when you’re injured! (And I included small thing about them being injured too tee hee)

Frank:

When he’s injured, he will hide it. Same with being sick. He’s worked through worse, there’s no reason to get upset about it. 

He trusts you to stitch him up tho, and that means a lot. 

Matt

Doesn’t necessarily try to hide it, but will not stop to rest. Might ask you for help meditating. Accepts coddling, but will get defensive if you ask him to rest. 

Mikey

Not a drama queen, but much less averse to resting than the other two. Like in my illness HCs, I think he would be perfectly content letting you take the reigns and leaning into his time off. Adores that he has someone there to help him. 

Frank

If you’re injured? Oh boy. 

Very demanding. Leaves no room for argument. (Just hands you stuff, doesn’t even ask.)

“Frank, I’m—“ “Take the damn pills, doll.” 

Trusts himself and Curtis ONLY to stitch you up, 

Definitely not happy that you’re injured/comfortable with it, but he’s the most chill of the 3. (This is not saying much.)

If someone intentionally harmed you, they’ve sealed their fate. He will wait until you’re sleeping peacefully to take care of the problem tho. 

If your injury is because of an accident (clumsiness, general misfortune, etc) rather than a person intentionally hurting you, he’s a bit less intense. 

Once the initial shock of your injury has worn off, he will tease you about it, if it makes you laugh. 

“Careful, babygirl. Ya sure you’re ready to handle those evil stairs again?”

Relatively realistic about the severity of injuries, depending on the reaction of his partner. 

Like he won’t freak out over a paper cut if you don’t want him to. He’s perfectly willing to kiss it better if you ask tho. 

Matt:

The LEAST chill of the three. 

Treats a paper cut with the same severity as a broken limb. 

Though, I can’t imagine how scary it would be to smell your partner bleeding or hurt. Like that has to set off alarm bells regardless. 

Soooooo protective. Glued to your side immediately, practically snarling at anyone who gets too close. 

Won't let you lift so much as a FINGER if you don’t have to. 

Panics a little and offers you all of the options until you help him calm down. 

“Do you need painkillers? Or an ice pack? Or something to eat? Why don’t we take a nap or—“ “Matty, breathe. It’s just a pulled muscle.  I’m ok, love.” 

Will absolutely kiss it better and would prefer to do so. 

Tries to teach you to meditate to heal faster, but you keep giggling and turning to press kisses to his cheeks and neck, so he gives up. 

I think he would want to take time off from both his day job and deviling, but would ultimately compromise by splitting his time between all three of you, unless you really needed his company. 

Mikey:

So soft, the softest guy. 

More concerned with what you want than what he thinks you need. 

“How can I help ya, pet? Tell me whatcha need me to do.” 

Unlike Frank, he does NOT trust himself to assist and would much rather take you to a medical professional. 

Asks so many follow up questions after the doctor examines you to make sure to get everything right. 

I feel like he’d take notes on his phone or in a physical notebook even. He’s SO worried he’s going to fuck it up. 

Very hesitant to leave you alone, in case you need something. 

Regularly checks in on how you’re feeling, willing to help however he can. If you need cuddles, he’s wrapped around you before you can even finish the request. Looking for company on your walk to work or while running errands? He’s there with a smile on his face. 

Tbh this doesn’t only happen when you’re injured, I think he would take every available opportunity to spend time with you, but he will prioritize you to a higher degree when you’re sick or injured. 

Will tease you if you ask him to kiss something better, but only because he thinks it’s adorable to make you squirm. 🥹

[bomberqueen17]

what is up froods

lol i keep forgetting to like. actually write updates in my personal journal. i'm using this tumblr too much like a tumblr.

i went down a rabbit hole the other night in that i just opened my own archives and went back to 2013 and then realized i started this in 2011. i didn't say a lot, back then i definitely was still using my LJ for Big Personal Updates and Tumblr was exclusively for snappy shitposts, and then I abandoned the LJ and only blogged in snappy shitposts for a while, and I did some vagueblogging that I genuinely have no idea what it was about, and that's fun.

But there's some. Boy there's some real fossils in there. God everything stays the same but everything happens so much.

I know I've backed up this blog but IDK how much you can make it make sense, offline. Anyway. That's how it goes. I'm not in any kind of existential panic about the site I'm just reacting to the zeigeist here, it made me think of old times.

I go back to the farm in a couple of weeks-- just for a couple of weeks, but the Season is Starting. My physical therapist keeps giving me more exercises. She's right, my core strength is wretched, but when I said I'd tried to do crunches now and then, tried to stay a tiny bit fit but-- she was like omg no you can't do crunches, with that hip cartilage as it is, so I felt a little better. So she's teaching me what I *can* do, and the important thing is that she's like you cannot do this more than every other day or three times a week, you cannot rush this kind of thing, and it's wonderful advice contrary to all the other advice I've ever had in my life which was like every moment you're not doing more work you're being a lazy shit. So, that's nice. I'll cut because nothing else here is going to be interesting.

I'm not the youngest person at physical therapy but there's a lot of old people there. I haven't been masking, I've been being lazy and just using xylitol nose spray before I go, and it's been fine, but I know that's just luck. (I see no one but Dude, who sees almost no one but me, so the consequences of fucking up would be minor.) with a trip to the farm coming up, I'm going to go back to masking, at least in the lead-up to the trip-- because last time I had COVID I had almost no symptoms, and nowadays apparently the rapid tests aren't super useful. The way I'm coping is, I know, a logical fallacy-- since COVID wasn't bad the one time I had it, I'm just telling myself I'm resistant naturally and it won't hurt me, and I know this is not the truth at all but it helps me cope-- but I cannot stand the thought of spreading it to someone who would be more hurt by it, so I have convinced myself not to fear catching it but to fear spreading it. I figure it's effectively the same and lets me not just be fucking terrified all the time.

I also discovered that a former employee of the farm who's out here going to college is interested in carpooling, and we've already got a tentative date for him to ride back with me on my way back from the farm at the end of March, and this has lightened my spirits a great deal. It's such a long drive and it feels like such a waste of gas, and he does have a car but it's not actually that safe to drive on the Thruway. (He swears up and down it's perfectly safe but just not at sustained speeds over 60. I was like omg kid do NOT, I will drive, my car is brand fkn new. He's taking the train home and will ride back with me.)

Let's see. Oh I don't think I've kept up with posting about the kitchen painting. It's down to the last tiny fiddly details, and what I've got to do is do a half-stencil in the corner above the door, and I did one half yesterday and will finish the rest today. I had to custom cut out a copy of part of the stencil to make it work, and it's sort of janky and I am going to have to hand-paint it with a lot of masking tape, but it's such a small area that like, why not, I can be that fussy. It's fine.

Once I finish that, which if I do part in the morning and part in the afternoon I can do today, then I can FINALLY CLEAN UP AND PUT AWAY all the painting detritus. I can't tell you how excited I am to do that.

I've also been doing fabric dyeing, finally. I collected several of the muslin garments I'd finished and meant to do something with, and got out my dyes. I did a batch of ice dye solely because I forgot which ones I'd intended to use for that; now I have a pair of slightly ill-fitting homemade leggings that look like a clown threw up on them, and a cheerful sweatshirt to match. i then used the runoff to dye the cream-colored canvas work smock-- I sort of tie-dyed it because I pasted up a little bit of two of the component colors and poured that on a couple areas that I then rubberbanded, because I wanted tie-dye but did not want any white areas left. So it's a blue/purple/red smock now, and the rainbow stitching I constructed it with was polyester so it's still rainbow, huzzah. Subtle and understated and also I can smear it with filth and maybe it will still look intentional.

[image description: a canvas work smock with big pockets, hanging to dry, mostly a mucky dark purple but with some brighter splotches of red and dark blue, and some bits of paler purple.]

[image description: assorted garments draped over drying racks in a sunporch, in blotchy shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, all kind of run together but not murky.]

And then I did another batch of ice dye, this time with the dyes I had bought that are supposed to work well for this because they split. That dress is still in the wash so I don't have pictures of how it turned out, but mostly it just looks splotchy green. LOL oh well. The point was, I made all these test garments in undyed fabric, but I don't have a lifestyle where I can wear a white dress, so now I have some non-white dresses I don't have to be precious about. Some of them I should now probably hem and like actually finish..........

I have one dress and one shirt left, and a pair of light-wash jeans I don't like wearing, and I'm thinking about trying like. Ombre or something. We'll see if I get around to that.

My sewing area is still a fuckin disaster and I don't want to think about it. But I'm cutting out a vest from scrap denim, I want a quilted abrasion-resistant washable work vest for farm work next week and I gotta get a move on. All I need now is to cut out the batting and get to it. So hopefully today.

I took photos, I might try writing up how-tos on the dyeing and on the repurposed denim stuff, but I also might not. If I was doing this again I would probably not bother with the ice, for the rainbow one. We'll see once the properly ice dyed dress comes out of this wash, I can hear the washer spinning but I'm trapped under Chita at the moment.

I missed this week's fic update because I'm progressing so slowly on both current active WIPs. I have a bunch written ahead in both, but each one has the back half of the current chapter just held up waiting for me to write them; I've overcome the structural decisions that delayed me, but I have to just sit and write them. And both of them are complicated scenes I've been waiting to write a long time, so I'm looking forward to writing them, and so like, paradoxically, can't make myself do it. Because once I've done it I'll have done it, see... anyway. Silly but there it is. I'll get through it once I decide I deserve that treat. I know! I know.