#will i forever be cursed to compare every fuck to this one person that hits just fucking right every time?

[call-me-pup2]

What I would give to be ridng someone right now, them thrusting up into me, messy kissing, hair pulling, moaning into each others mouths, hot messy fucking

[sourbinnie]

☆ hit me where it hurts.mp3 ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst ¡! ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> maknae line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> sometimes things shouldn't be said (or thought) but the words slip right out of his mouth at the worst time. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> arguments ; the boys being a little mean but instantly regretting it ; cursing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

hyung line

a/n: here's the maknae line version! we'll see if i can write a second part but i'm debating where i should double down on the sadness or make them have a happy ending

jisung ✉

you didn't know what shocked you more, his calm nature in argument isn't something odd but he never let it get out of hand. today he did unfortunately and it started a screaming match in your shared apartment about god knows what. like a competition to see who could hurt the other worse and guess who won? yeah not you, you won the tears that couldn't stop streaming as you remembered.

"fuck (y/n) were you always this bad? they didn't make my life this difficult." and if you were making his life so difficult then you were gonna walk out of the scene of the crime. "no, i didn't mean that. i don't know what came over me, it was just the heat of the moment. please don't fucking leave-."

"so you can keep on screaming at me? yeah no thanks, i'm going." it wasn't even the screaming that got to you, jisung could be loud and you never cared. but it felt like poison the fact that he compared you to someone he himself broke up with. "just stay away from me jisung, i can't even look at you right now."

"don't say that. i know i fucked up but i can fix it, i promise i can fix it!" he insisted but you couldn't believe a single word coming out of his mouth as you grabbed your things to leave. "baby please, i know it wasn't okay but i can't bear seeing you like this, at least promise me you'll come back?"

"i'm gonna be honest. i don't know if i will." you said and the last thing you remembered was the sadness on his face turning into pure horror and fear that you were gonna leave him forever. you couldn't even make a decision right now as you had so much in your own mind that it was getting worse & worse. as much as you loved jisung, people say things because they truly mean them right? and maybe you two were not meant for each other as you thought you were.

felix ✉

getting ignored by felix meant something was wrong and that you were in deep trouble. it got you thinking about your previous fights with him and how you handled them. you usually talked things out and told each other what you felt when he got like this but right now it seemed impossible as he dodged you every time you got close to him even though he was the one who invited you a few days ago to the dorms tonight. the tension could be caught with a knife and all the boys felt it so most of them decided to leave before it got bad except chan who looked at you two carefully and tried to figure out what was going on.

"lix can you talk to me? i don't know what's going on or why you're so distant but i would like to work things out." you said as you got close to him and sat down but he just pretended like you weren't there. it felt so weird to be so distant with the person you love the most and it deeply hurt but nothing scarred like what he said.

"can't you get a hint? i don't wanna be near you right now. god i don't know why i broke up with them, they're not awfully clingy like you are." he muttered as he tried to walk away but i guess it hit him what he said and turned around to look at me. i couldn't even cry, i was just going through my mind trying to handle everything he said at once and figuring out that i should probably leave. "baby no i'm sorry, please at least stay here so you don't have to walk in the middle of the night."

"there's no way i'm staying close to you today." even if it hurt him, nothing was gonna be as bad as what he said to me and he would have to deal with that. "please let me go felix."

"felix, i'll walk them home and we'll talk when i get back." chan said and i could see the hesitation on felix's eyes but he eventually did let go of my wrist and i could finally leave. i couldn't help the tears that were flowing as i got out of the building and tried not to make a fool of myself in front of chan but he was like an older brother to me so as soon as he offered me a hug, i gave in and let go.

seungmin ✉

you weren't sure how to handle things with seungmin when he got in a bad mood. it's like you two didn't even know where to begin discussing the things that made you both upset and talking it out like normal people. it always led to a fight about who’s right and who's wrong and not about how you two exactly felt. it also led to him using some insecurities against you this time which you were not having it. 

"listen (y/n) i don't know what you want from me but i'm done arguing." he said and you sighed, you were glad that everything was finally over between the two of you. "if i knew it was gonna lead to this, i would've stayed with them and never asked you out."

felt like a cold bucket of water dropped on you and it made you want to leave immediately but you froze. trying to process if it was real that your seungmin felt that way about you and your relationship, meaningless like it was nothing at all. it took all the strength left in you to get up and head to your shared bedroom to lock the door and not say anything else. as soon as realization hit him and what he said, he was on the other side knocking.

"i'm sorry i don't know what came over me. i promise i'll be better, please let me see you? i can't stand the fact that you're alone and suffering right now." he said but the sobs were uncontrollable and choking up on tears was so disheartening. "baby please, i won't leave this side until we talk it out. (y/n) i love you..."

"i love you too but please leave me alone for now will you?" you said even if all you wanted was a hug right now, you weren't sure you wanted one from someone who felt that way towards you. you could hear the footsteps getting further and further as you held onto your knees tight and buried your head, trying to make the tears stop.

jeongin ✉

it felt so weird to argue with jeongin. it was one of his first relationships and he still didn't know how to express himself without hurting you and sometimes he didn't know how to handle the tears that came after the hurtful words. he felt like crying himself most of the time he saw you cry and it wasn't easy to calm each other down if both of you were in a bad state emotionally. this time he did let the anger get the best of him and he dived right into the meaningless words that you would hear in a fight, well they were meaningless to him but to you? not so much.

"jesus fucking christ (y/n). i don't know what you want from me anymore, you're making such a fuss and i know they would never do this shit. i don't know why i'm with you." it was too late to regret anything as he looked at you, with shock in his eyes that he even muttered that. 

"if you feel that way then i should get going." you said as you bit your lip and tried to hold back from the break down that you were about to have. "i don't know what i expected but for you to talk to me that way? i didn't see it coming."

"(y/n) love, i'm so fucking sorry. please don't leave me." he said and yes the tears were flowing from his eyes and yes you did feel horrible about it seeing him like this. but it was his fault and to grow from it he would have to deal with hurting you as you walked in the direction of the front door and he chased after you. "please, i'll do anything but please don't go."

"if you wanna do something then understand i need some time away from you right now. goodbye jeongin, we'll talk later." you said and closed the door before he could follow you. a sigh and a tear came out of your body as you looked up and hoped that you two could mend things but it was all up to you at this point. and it hurt to know that he felt in a way you would've never even dream of feeling.

[inbarfink]

So, do you think all the universes we see come fr a wish, or some just happen to exist? Farmworld and Lichworld are wishes we've already seen, but it's hard to imagine who's wish could have caused Vampworld.

Maybe Winter King's nice about "manifesting your own reality" implies that world was born out of an Ice King's wish, who maybe just wanted to stop being so sad all the time.

Well, we know some universes aren't born from Wishes because Prismo explicitly said that about Flapjackworld!

But I also think, with the thematic focus being given to Wishes in this series, it's very likely that all of the universes we've seen were probably born from Wishes... or at least it's fun to speculate about lol

However, I personally find it unlikely that Winterworld was born from a Wish made by the Ice King/Simon, and it's actually for the same reason I don't think it's 'unlikely' that someone wished for Vampireworld - a Wish granted by Prismo always backfires on the wisher.

The only way Jake got around it is by changing the Lich's Wish, so "I wish for Finn and Jake to go back home to Ooo" would turn out badly for the Lich, which would mean it would go right for... basically everyone else.

We've seen it with Farmworld, which went very very badly for Finn, AND ALSO hit him with the pedantic ironic twist of the difference between asking that the Lich never existed and asking that he won't exist in the future

And like, the only reason Farmworld Lich was stopped was because he and Ice Finn/the Snowman were threatening every reality and that forced Prismo to initiate that Crossover. And the only reason why Finn was freed from the Magic Crown's curse was because Mainworld Finn begged for it. If the Farmworld Lich hadn't started poking around the Multiverse, Farmworld Finn's fate would've been to be the Lich's Mad and Sad right-hand goon... forever.

And even now, that world is a pretty lousy place in general, and not exactly super-great for Finn in specific

Extinctworld went badly for the Lich by just... giving him what he wants but showing him the futility and lack of satisfaction in his ultimate goal. Leaving him basically extremely depressed.

According to Word of God, Babyworld was a Wish made by BMO and it backfired by making them into an inanimate (...or at least seemingly inanimate) Baby Monitor.

So when I'm thinking who is likely to have Wished up a World, I'm thinking what sort of Wish could've lead to that timeline... but also who got fucked over the most by the changes. As such I have a hard time believing Ice King/Simon created Winterworld, since, like, the Winter King is basically the only actually happy person in that whole world?

I mean, I guess turning into a huge asshole that your former self would find morally repugnant would be a kind of Ironic Twists. Or the fact the Candy Queen might've killed him eventually, but I dunno... compared to the other Worlds we've seen, it doesn't feel Ironic enough to me.

Ever since that episode aired, my personal bet has always been that this world was Wished up by Marceline. She has all the Motivation to Wish, like, "I wish Simon could remember who he is". And look how terribly all of this went from her perspective! Simon is 'himself' again but is utterly unrecognizable as the loving surrogate father she remembers. The love of her life is now tormented by that same Curse she tried to free Simon from. And, well, while it's unclear what exactly happened when she and Simon had their falling out...

But doesn't look good for her.

For Vampireworld... I know some people would say that's the Marceline Wish Timeline since there's so much focus on her - but I kinda doubt it for the same reason I doubt the Ice King Winterworld thing. The Star is one of the only two people having an Actual Good Time in that universe and, even if things would've gotten bad eventually, with the dwindling food supply and all, that still feels like kind of a serious slow burn of an Ironic Twist compared to others we've seen.

I think it's most likely that Vampireworld is a Wish from one of the Vampire King's Court we saw back in 'Stakes'.

Between the Star being said to have 'outlived' the rest of the Court, her having seemingly the same powerset as Mainworld Marceline (which she gained by sucking the souls of these Vampires as she slayed them) and her clearly having no qualms about killing her fellow Vampires

I think the implication here is that the Star still killed the Fool, the Empress, the Hierophant, the Moon - but exclusively to become more powerful and gain more approval from her 'dad' in the process.

So I think the Ironic Twist narrative is, like, the Hierophant or someone Wishes for a world where Vampires rule... and that's exactly what they got, but their most hated enemy is still around. And now they get to watch her upstage them, take their rightful spot by the Vampire King's side and then kill and consume them alongside their closest brethren. Then their civilization collapses in on itself due to the lack of food, I think that's plenty Ironic to me.

I've also heard a suggestion that it could've been Peebles' Wish. Like, she tried to Wish Simon never put the Crown on just for Marceline's sake (and to try rid herself of her annoying stalker but still mostly for Marceline's sake)... and she ended up in a grim and dying world without her beloved kingdom, and also without the love that made her give her one Wish for Marcy's happiness instead.

I still think I prefer the Vampire Wish theory, but that one also has pretty solid foundation.

[moorishflower]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @landwriter for the tag <3<3<3 Answers under the cut!

How many works do you have on Ao3? 227!

What's your total Ao3 word count? I broken two million this year! :)

What fandoms do you write for? I guess you'd say my "main" fandom is still The Sandman, because that's what really started me writing again, but I'll write for any piece of media that inspires me. I've written for The Terror, the D&D movie, Dungeon Meshi, Supernatural, Sherlock, and Homestuck at various points.

Top five fics by kudos: 1. aulon raid - In which no neonazis are allowed in the New Inn. 2. Curse of the Green Hag - The one where Xenk Yendar is cursed by a hag and he and Edgin have to fuck about it. 3. Ecdysis - Undressing and armor and bathing. 4. That I Should Wedded-Be - This was my first attempt at something longer. It's definitely not one of my better ones at this point but it was one of the first ones so it has a lot more kudos. 5. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow - The one where Hob fucks Dream on his desk.

Do you respond to comments? I would really like to, but I find that I often don't have the energy, and because I want every response to be unique and thoughtful and just for that person, it means that I feel really bad if I give a simple "thanks!" and nothing else. Inevitably the bad feeling of not responding in a meaningful way outweighs the good feeling of getting the comment, so now I really only respond to comments if they address me directly or ask a question.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? the long way down maybe? It has a more open "hopeful" ending. I don't usually let things end on a low note!

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Hallmark-Adjacent, I think. Literally ends like a Hallmark movie lol.

Do you get hate on fics? Once or twice it's happened. If it's happened since then I haven't been aware of it. I'm sure a lot of conversation goes on in like, discord channels and such that I don't follow. I'm not particularly interested in debating with people about the intentions or morality of my writing. I try to be as authentic and inclusive and respectful as the setting and story allow me to be, but I'm also human and fallible. *shrug* I grow and learn more every day. Expecting perfection from people is an exercise in frustration and futility.

Do you write smut?

yeh

Craziest crossover: Wrote a BBC Sherlock/Homestuck fusion. That was fun.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of. If it was like Cocoon or Maybe sprout wings I think I'd be really upset about it because I put so much into those, but I don't know if I'd feel particularly devastated if it was anything else. BSN, maybe. I mean it would suck? That's a shitty thing to do, but also, you're not earning any real clout or money by doing it, lol.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! A number of my fics have been translated, mostly into Russian (thanks chainsmoking and Bonniemary!), and one into Spanish (thanks Dhixi!). I'm incredibly flattered every time someone takes the time and effort to do a translation. It's an incredible art.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, though not recently.

All time favourite ship? Listen I write so much for Sandman but truthfully? Mulder/Scully. Alpha and omega ship. Don't know if anything will ever compare.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? At this point, The Whole of Love Contained is so far removed from my current writing style that I would have to restart from scratch, I think. I'm not counting it out forever, but there are other ideas I've had that I'm more interested in pursuing first.

What are your writing strengths? I really like sentence construction. The flow of it. How you can use punctuation to make it stop -- and then carry on, giving it purposeful structure. I've been told I have a talent for inserting life-altering sentences into the middle of things so that they hit you like a punch. Idk I'm bad at listing my own strengths. I like to research things a lot?

What are your writing weaknesses? Pacing, definitely, and action scenes. I always feel like my action scenes have low-stakes feel to them. And dialogue. I think a lot of people struggle to write realistic dialogue, though, so that might not just be me. Keeping the momentum going. Sometimes I'll be so focused on reaching one specific scene that I'll lose track of how to actually get there, and I'll stall out. I feel like I have a lot more weaknesses but I struggle to articulate them beyond a sense of deep dissatisfaction with my own writing, especially in comparison with other writers whom I greatly admire. I feel often like I'm churning out things that are easily-digestible and entertaining, but not necessarily meaningful, or not conveying what I would like them to do. Logically I know that "entertaining" is a value unto itself, and nothing to scoff at, but still. The writer's hubris, maybe.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? Kind of depends on what you're using it for, I suppose. I tend to stick with one narrator's POV, so it can be useful if the narrator doesn't speak that language, but we, as the readers, can pop the sentence into translate and get the gist. I tend to use that sparingly as a gimmick, though, because I'm not multilingual except in the very most basic of terms and I prefer being correct to being aesthetic, lol.

First fandom you wrote in? If you want to be technical, it was Harry Potter. But the first fandom I wrote seriously for was Heroes.

Favourite fic you've written? I'm still proudest of Maybe sprout wings. Not sure if I'll ever write something like that again, where so much of it just felt right. And it got a compliment from a writer I admired very much in Homestuck fandom, so I reckon I did something right with it.

I'll tag @arialerendeair and @dsudis because I know you've both been in fandom for a while and I want to hear your stats <3

[flowerslut]

random/general/personal fanfic rambling + whining beneath the cut ♡

sometimes I think to myself: "lmfao I have such a tiny audience!!" but not in a self-deprecating 'oh woe is me no one reads my stuff' way. more like a "hell yeah I can do and say whatever the fuck I want because no one is looking in this direction anyways" which is just.... so nice???? and not entirely true but true enough that twilight has been my most peaceful fandom experience in a long time (despite still being Hated by certain fandom niches lmfaoo 😘)

like I often forget that the twilight fic I write has the least amount of interaction overall in comparison to literally Every Other Fandom i've ever been in. which is SO funny. even my unfinished dbz fic from forever ago has more hits than most of my twilight fic combined (the curse of being a jalice girlie 💔) which is also lowkey nice as hell because I don't have bratty teenagers and weird middle aged men in my comments/reviews/ask box bitching that "SaSuke wOULD NEVER—" and I can live in relative peace now 😌

but then that post saying "post the difference in hits between your most and least viewed fics" gets put on my dash again and I spend at least 20 minutes each time looking for someone with a comparable difference (SOMEONE TO RELATE TO YOU KNOW?) and out of the 5 or 6 times I've done this I've found ONE person. ONE!!! which just reminds me of how often I forget that although I can be a rando who flies under the radar here in twilight I will Not Be Afforded that luxury when I eventually go back to n*ruto. just look at how comical it is to look at my goddamn ff stats page. and yes, these two are listed right next to each other bc it's an alphabetized list, which just further emphasizes the absurdity in my different fandom 'audiences':

(it goes 'Word Count' -> 'Chapters' -> 'Reviews' -> 'Hits')

so its a weird feeling to be in a more niche, smaller fandom (largely by choice) and then seeing people constantly bitch and fucking moan about how their content doesn't get the hits it used to. or how they wish their numbers were higher. and instead of being like "these are personal, internal issues I must work on" they're like "ITS NOT ABOUT NUMBERS ITS ABOUT RESPECT" while they're BITCHING about wanting their numbers higher????? like bitch make it make sense! just say you're vain and want more hits/kudos! this is the worst part of being a part of the larger tumblr fic writer community because it's so insufferable to see

like yknow those popular posts that go around saying "Ummmm it's an UNSPOKEN RULE and always HAS been to ALWAYS leave a kudos and ALWAYS leave a comment even if you didn't enjoy the fic 😌💅" it makes me want to laugh in their faces. because I don't know what delusional circles you run in to think you're entitled to what you deem is 'adequate attention'?

"but fic writers spend hundreds, sometimes thousands of hours on—" and no one is making them do that. fic writing is a hobby.

"it's discouraging to get no engagement on fic—" then reexamine why you're writing and maybe take a break from the internet

"some fic writers are trying to establish an audience so when they switch to ofic or traditional publishing it'll be easier—" if this is a strategic business choice then either get into a bigger ship or fandom (hp/marvel/etc) or change your strategy dude because this is not going to work the way you think it will

"seeing so few kudos/hits makes me want to delete everything some days—" again: reexamine why you write fic. if you're doing it for external validation then there's a bigger issue at play here. if no engagement affects your mental health you really need to take a step back

and I will always understand wanting acknowledgement for the hard work content creators do. it feels really nice to get a kind comment or a bunch of favorites/kudos/whatever. but the tumblr-popularized mindset of "your readers OWE you for what you've provided for them" has skewed so far off from the original "fandom is a community" and into a weird "fandom has a hierarchy that we are attempting to enforce" mindset and I can't fucking stand it dude!!!!!

I wouldn't consider myself a fandom veteran because there are so many people who have been around far longer than I and who have seen some worse shit than I have, but over the past ~17 years that I've spent in online fandom spaces (and ~15 as a fanfic writer) the worst part of creating in fandom isn't that "kids these days are soooo entitled" or "noBoDy kNowS HOw tO CoMmEnT ANYmoRE" its that capitalism has warped everyones fucking mindsets!! now that content creation can be monetized people are viewing the content they create as things they can charge this weird 'social currency' for if they can't exchange it for actual currency (which you can't with most fan content).

you don't get to demand that people owe you interaction for you providing a service that you were not required to provide anyways. this banker ass capitalistic republican ass energy makes me wanna scream. and like, if you DO do this (we've all read a fic on FF.net where an authors note says "no more chapters until I get at least 5 reviews!!") then stop trying to moralize it and pretend that people who DONT comment are not doing what is required of them. which, is nothing. nothing is required of them.

tldr; anyways I always feel weird about my experience in fandom and as a fanfic writer bc I don't know where my peers are who can relate to my strange experience but who also don't subscribe to this bullshit "readers OWE the writers" mindset that's becoming aggressively popularized. either encourage friendly engagement with people's content or shut up. no more of this bs "fic writers Deserve More because I'm mad my highly-niche 7k pwp only got 18 kudos" bullshit

okay love u all happy friday bye bye can't wait to work on prompts for u guys this weekend ♡♡♡♡♡

[nadzhosny2]

The curse of not good enough

Sometimes I am really terrible to myself, and I relentlessly compare myself to other people, no matter how many times I read or hear about how good enough or lovable I am. I meticulously look for evidence that I am a nobody, that I don’t deserve to be loved or that I’m not living up to my full potential. The question of “am I not good enough?” will be ringing in my head constantly.

There is generally a lot of pressure to “stack up” in our society. We feel as if there is something wrong with us if, for example, we’re still single by a certain age, don’t make a certain amount of money, don’t have a large social circle, or don’t look and act a certain way in the presence of others. The list could truly go on forever. I get stuck in my head and my inner critic (critic is a euphemism, it’s more like satan) gets so loud and completely rips apart my self-esteem until I accept it as a true representation of reality and hate myself too much to do anything. You can probably remember a time when you didn’t do something because your “not good enough” thoughts showed up.

The feeling of not being good enough can lead to “impostor syndrome”. With this, people question all their achievements and convince themselves that they’re a fraud about to be caught out at any time. To make matters worse, we can also start thinking that everyone around us is so much better at what they do. The bane of our generation’s existence, social media, seems to just amplify that everyone else is having a better life than us and causing us to think “she/he has a much better job than me”, “look at their family, they are perfect together; that’s nothing like ours”, “I will never be like him/her”.

It’s so easy to second guess that you are good enough when all the signs seem to be telling you the opposite. But despite currently feeling like it’s you against the world, it’s important to remember that you are an essential part of this world. You play a role no one else can play.

It’s you who decides how good you can be. You’re in full control of what you’re good at, how good you want to be, and what aspects of yourself you wish to improve about yourself. If someone dislikes something about you that you love about yourself, you don’t need to change. You simply need to tell that person to fuck off and find someone who also likes those aspects of yourself and if you don’t then that’s fine too! The only person whom you need to worry about liking is your own damn self. If you flunked a test or made a mistake at work and now feel ashamed or disappointed, you can change your studying and working habits (a fixable problem) so that you perform better next time. You need to stop filling your mind with doubt. Otherwise, the feeling of “I’m not good enough” becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. But today and right now, you can decide to become good enough, if you can even prove that you lack something in the first place.

You being here and alive right now makes you one of the rarest events to ever happen in the world. At one point, humans didn’t even exist in this world. And yet somehow despite all the miscarriages, wide-spread global pandemics, wars and asteroids that would’ve killed your ancestors, the universe conspired to ensure that everything you are, survived. You’re a miracle. There are billions of people who didn’t make it through, but you did. You’ve got a unique set of some of the strongest genes, a bunch of quirky traits, and the craziest opportunity to be alive. If there wasn’t a purpose or a need for you to survive all of the world’s catastrophes, you wouldn’t have.

Life’s going to throw you some curveballs. You’re going to get sucker-punched. Other times, you’ll get knocked down to your knees and be unable to breathe. But it’s important to remember that with every knock out or every hit, no matter how hard, you jump back up and try again. You might fail, mess up and get rejected. But ultimately, you know that even if you’re not good enough today, you’ll definitely be good enough tomorrow. Every day, you take on the day head-on and give it your best. You know that even though you constantly question if you’re good enough, that giving up isn’t in your nature, that you’re a fighter. There’s always a solution to a problem. And even if you’re not quite sure of what your next move is yet, you know that you’re smart enough to figure it out.

You can’t hate your way into loving yourself. Telling yourself what a failure you are won’t make you any more successful. Telling yourself you’re not living up to your full potential won’t help you reach a higher potential. Telling yourself you’re worthless and unlovable won’t make you feel any more worthy or loved. I know it sounds almost annoyingly simple, but the only way to achieve self-love is to love yourself — regardless of who you are and where you stand and even if you know you want to change. You are enough just as you are. And self-love will be a little bit easier every time you remind yourself of that.

[ghoul333]

serial lover

chapter one(?)

pairing: billy x f!reader

wc: 2.8k

summary: billy wants to kill you, but you change his mind last minute.

warnings: angst, murder, swearing, fluff(?)

a/n: i used both their point of views so i hope it came out alright. i definitely want to write another chapter. hope you enjoy! <3

He looked at you from afar. Lurking in the bushes, watching your every move. It was pretty much turning into a daily routine. He wanted you, bad. Billy was heavily debating when to break in one of these nights to kill you. Lucky for him, tonight might be the night, your parents weren't home and your siblings were nowhere to be seen. Just you, sitting pretty on your bed and staring at the ceiling.

You were the perfect victim. It had been a few years since the first killing spree in Woodsboro. Everything for the most part had gone back to normal. They thought about it for a while, and considering they had succeeded the first time, Billy and Stu decided to give it another go. Only for this job was Billy on his own, Stu being with his girlfriend.

A kind, innocent girl like you? That would be fun. Though you had never wronged the pair, you were somewhat of a loner. Quiet but willing to help when needed. Might've been a distasteful move, but damn was Billy eager to hear what your screams sounded like.

And now that you were alone, it was the perfect time to play a game.

Only you weren't.

Your brother in law, Ian, was in the living room, watching a hockey game.

Billy got into a stance when he saw you getting up from the bed, figuring you would leave the room. Instead, you paced in circles. He looked down at your hands, you were flicking your index finger against your thumb, as if it was out of anxiety. You seemed to be contemplating something.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Billy having to duck down so you wouldn't spot him. It would be a different story if he was dressed up as himself, you two were acquainted after all, having one or two classes together. But he wasn't exactly 'himself' right now, he was Ghostface. Though he and Ghostface were one in the same, you didn't know that. You would only see a masked psycho hiding in your bushes.

He was about to pick up his cellphone to call your house phone, but something stopped him. His hand was frozen in place. When he looked back to you, he noticed a change in your expression.

You were crying in the mirror.

Billy cocked his head. What the fuck was this? One minute you're fine and seemingly calm. Then the next minute you're crying as if something traumatic happened.

He raised his brows, surprised when you stopped crying immediately, as if on cue. Your eyes had been glossy but were now completely dry.

Holy shit. Where did you learn that? He thought.

You didn't look sad anymore. In fact there was no emotion at all and for some reason, Billy loved it.

—

You wiped the tears off your face and stared at yourself in the mirror. Taking a deep breath.

Was that believable?  I think so.

A part of you wished you had someone here to let you know, but this was something you needed to do by yourself. You didn't even know if you were gonna go through with it, but the urge wouldn’t leave your mind.

Hearing a loud cheer from the other room, you groaned in disgust. You had a hard time believing your family would leave Ian here with you. Especially after all the shit you've taken from him.

You could confidently say that you hated your brother in law. Your sister disappointed you, putting up with trash like him and you resented your family for tolerating it for as long as they have. For over a year, he had lived in your house. Being nothing but a bum. Always being a fucking asshole to you and your family, then making you feel like shit when you call him out.

He could get away with it too. The fact your father was rarely in town made it easy and you hated it. You hated him. You wanted him gone, for good.

You knew there was only one way. No matter how many fights, he wouldn't leave. Refused to.

If he was gone, everything would be fine. It'd take time for some people to heal, but this was for the best.

Thinking about it put a smile on your face. Even though the inhuman thoughts ashamed you, you couldn't help but let them excite you at the same time. Never in your life had you wanted to do something like this, but you craved to see that piece of shit suffer. This would be the only time, and hopefully you wouldn't get caught.

You opened up your drawer, pulling out some scissors, studying them for a few seconds before putting them back.

You weren't ready to get blood on your hands. You looked around your room, trying to find something easy and simple. You looked down at your rack of shoes. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head.

You pulled the lace from one of your old sneakers, you'd have to dump them afterwards but you wouldn't miss them. While you wrapped the string around both your hands, something came over you. You didn't even realize you were walking to the living room, until you were standing right behind him while he watched his game. At that point, your body was doing the talking. Fuck what was actually right. Fuck morals.

Billy watched all this, following your every move. He cursed himself for not noticing the other obvious person in the house. How stupid. If he decided to pursue you there was a greater chance he wouldn't get away. Stu would've had to come. You kind of saved him there.

Seeing the single shoelace in your grip and standing so close behind Ian, he was actually anticipating your next move. Which surprised him, you had him on the edge of his seat. You had opened his eyes in those last few minutes. You had him so confused.

He had been watching you for days, basically knew your day and night routine. So, where did this come from? You put on an act, even for yourself?

He couldn't deny he thought you were, somewhat, adorable. Many victims had been adorable, but being adorable doesn't mean shit to Billy. If he wanted to gut you, he would.

There were times where you would just sit and stare into a void, but he didn't really think anything of it. He didn't realize how fucked up in the head you really were.

He couldn't kill you now, definitely not. You were turning out to be just as insane as he was. Billy felt drawn to you. He was rooting for you.

You stood there long enough for Ian to notice your presence behind him. Not even turning around, he opened his mouth.

"What the fuck do you wa-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before you wrapped the shoelace around his neck, attempting to strangle him.

Hearing him speak irritated the fuck out of you. You'd rather cut your own ears off, but why do that? He should just simply stop talking.

He was strong, but you gave yourself props for not wearing socks, your feet were planted firmly on the ground, and they weren't going anywhere. His arms were violently swinging, voice coming out in gargles. How long did I need to do this for? Maybe a plastic bag would've been easier.

It felt like forever until he quit moving. Eventually, his arms fell limp and his breathing stopped. You stood there for a moment, the lace still wrapped around him. Had you killed him?

You decided you wanted to be sure, jerking the shoelace against his neck just one more time.

Suddenly his arm flew up, grabbing the shoelace and trying to jerk your body forward. You begin to struggle against him, pulling the lace as tight as you could so he couldn't grip it, but he was able to overpower you within seconds. Yanking you over the sofa he had been sitting on, you groaned in pain as your back hit the floor. The air being knocked out of you.

Where did that adrenaline come from?

Watching you flip like that, for some reason, worried Billy. Even he thought you had him. He couldn't let this happen, he felt the strong urge to come to your rescue. Sure, some random guy dying by the hands of ghostface didn't fit the route they were trying to take, but Billy was going to protect you tonight. He needed to.

He quickly got up from where he was crouched, beginning to creep his way towards the house. He figured he needed to move fast considering how much smaller you were compared to the man you were trying to murder.

"You little fucking bitch!" Ian managed to seethe, voice extremely hoarse. He got up from where he was standing and grabbed you by the hair, making you cry out pain. Billy heard the commotion from outside, and the sound he'd been wanting to hear. He didn't like it. Why?

Why did it make him angry to hear you in pain?

You wanted to avoid eye contact with Ian, but he yanked your hair again, making you face him. The look in his eyes seemed hungry, and not in a good way.

He gave you a vile smile, before slapping you across the face, making you tumble to the floor once again. You slowly reached up, touching your cheek. A single tear threatened to fall but you quickly blinked it away. It burned, almost vibrating from the impact. You knew the slap was hard enough for blood to come through.

Fuck.

You figured you were screwed, if you knew he was gonna grab you like that you would've just duct taped him to the coach. You really did not think this one through, even though you had been thinking about it for months on end.

You felt his body heat centimeters away from you. Looking up at him, he hovered over you.

"Thank you for finally giving me a reason to do that." He said, his tone spilling venom. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

You just stared at him, you weren't scared or upset. You couldn't even be mad, you just attempted to strangle your sisters husband. What could've been expected? You probably didn't have a great chance of succeeding anyway, but you couldn't fight your urges anymore.

People like him deserved death.

You didn't have time to process another thought before Ian picked you up, throwing you against the wall. You yelped as your side impacted harshly against the wood floor. You didn't even want to look at him anymore, you had failed and were probably gonna die, or get beat into a coma.

You didn't feel him grab you again. You didn't feel him pin you against the wall. You didn't feel the corner of the table next you digging into your side. You didn't feel anything. Not even the tears falling from your eyes.

"Don't cry now darling," He whispered in your ear, you shuddered in disgust. "This is what you wanted."

His voice made you want to vomit. Cigarettes and cheap beer leaking off his tongue. Even with him up to your ear, you could smell it. He was so fucking close. Everything about this man made you sick. You couldn't understand how your sister slept beside this thing at night.

He held your body against his while he shifted his hands. They wrapped around your throat and squeezed, very hard. You couldn't breathe. You wanted to just let it happen but your body was thinking ahead of you, once again. You grabbed his hands, trying to pry him off.

You actually couldn't fucking breathe. You were going to die, staring into this mans lifeless eyes, hearing his heaving breathing...his body pressed against yours. You would rather get stabbed to death. Or burned alive. You just didn't want him to be the last thing you saw before you died. You didn't want to die.

I fucked up.

Maybe you were selfish too. You were better off just hurting yourself to ease the pain. You couldn't get him off you and it was painful. Your vision was starting to blur.

You used your feet to try and push him off you, but your attempts failed.

Unexpectedly, you fell to the floor with a thud. You quickly inhaled a large breath of air, a small coughing spell following. You couldn't hear or see anything in that moment, just trying to get up, desperately trying to regain your strength.

Breathing had never felt so good.

Weak and in pain, you used one hand to guide your way up the wall, while the other one held your throat. As you regained your vision and started to focus on your surroundings, you began to hear struggling. Lots of struggling. You were confused, you thought it was just the both of you. As you looked up, you noticed a cloaked figure on top of  Ian.

Billy had gotten into the house from your laundry room window, finding the entrance a few days ago when he was planning how he would kill you. He crept in, being as quiet as a ghost. When he turned the corner, he saw Ian pressing you deep against the wall. He watched you struggle and fight, a few tears falling from your eyes.

He tackled your brother in law to the floor, making him lose his grip on you. Billy managed to gain the upper hand quickly, getting on top of him and wrapping his hands around his throat. Ian kicked his legs, but it did no good. Billy was too far up on his chest, sinking all his body weight onto him.

You stood there and watched. You were confused and shocked on what was happening, on where this guy came from. You looked down, noticing a knife next to the person in the black cloak. You begin to panic a little inside, wondering whether this person was saving your life or here to take you both out.

It only then hit you that the knife and the black costume seemed way too familiar.

Oh shit...It can't be.

Was this, The Ghostface?

From what you and the rest of Woodsboro knew, that killer who committed all those murders years ago was supposed to be dead. So what was he doing here?

You snapped back into reality when you heard Ian trying to speak. Looking at the both of them, you saw Ian's arms swing violently once again. Billy had managed to dodge most the swings, his arms steadily pressing down on Ian's throat. He did take a few hits to the face though, but he had been through worse.

It wasn't until he started reaching for the mask.

Billy could only lean back so far, if he tried anymore Ian would gain the upper hand in a matter of seconds. He usually didn’t care, since they were going to be dead anyway, but he wasn’t going to kill you.

You noticed what was happening, even with Ghostface's back turned to you. You slowly crept your way towards them, until you could see Ian's face again.

His eyes were wide as plates and his skin looked tight as the killer pushed down on his throat. Ian's eyes snapped to you, making Billy turn his head a little to see you in his peripheral vision. You could tell by the look in Ian's eyes that he wanted your help.

Tough shit.

You slowly walked around the two, Ian was convinced you were gonna help him, beginning to reach for the mask again, fingers brushing the mouth, trying to find a grip. You kneeled, grabbing Ian's arms, pinning him down. Your gazed flickered towards the mask killer, to find he was already looking in your direction.

You decided to flash him a smile. Though you couldn't see behind that mask, Billy had the same expression.

You lowered your body down, until your mouth was leveled with Ian's ear. He was trying to fight against you, but he had no more strength. He was done for.

"See you in hell, fat shit." You spoke into his ear.

Gargles could only be heard, and the hockey game playing on the tv was basically non existent. The life Ian once had, was now gone. You slowly stood up, ghostface doing the same. You both looked at his lifeless body.

“I don’t know whether I should say thank you, or start running.” You said, letting out a laugh. It hurt like hell to speak. Your eyes moved to the masked killer and once again, he was already looking at you.

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, before he took a step closer to you. You didn’t back up, and for some reason you didn’t feel afraid. Billy reached out his hand, lightly touching your throat.

You weirdly didn’t mind the feeling, you weren’t scared of his touch, in fact, it was very gentle.

His hand trailed up, cupping the cheek that had been slapped. His thumb lightly rubbed your cheek and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Thank you.” You told him, but he didn’t say anything. You knew he couldn’t speak, he wasn’t gonna let you find out who he was. If you recognized the voice or didn’t there was still a chance.

A car pulling up into the driveway made you and Billy snap your attention to the front of the house. He looked at you once again, seeing the fear in your eyes. He had to help you out some more, and you couldn’t be awake for it to work.

“I’m sorry.” Billy lowly mumbled, before knocking you unconscious.

[lesbobiwan]

Brat (Wolffe x f! reader)

Explicit — minors DNI

Wolffe x f!reader

warnings: cockwarming, dirty talk KING wolffe, brat tamer!wolffe, spanking

You did this to yourself. You know that, realistically.

Since you woke up this morning, there was a bone-deep feeling inside you that just begged for trouble and, well, you seem to have found it.

Wolffe's jaw clenches, and his shoulders roll back, giving his already broad body an even broader appearance.

Oh yeah, you found trouble alright.

Still, despite the commander burning holes into the back of your head, you turn to your newfound dance partner.

He's sweet enough — a shiny from the 212th if the brand new yellow paint is any hint. He had approached you with a shy smile and an outstretched hand and had raised his voice to be heard over the blasting music of 79s. "D'you wanna dance?"

Like you said: sweet.

But, you're not looking for sweet. you're looking for something rough and dirty. Something you'll undoubtedly feel tomorrow morning.

You think you'll get what you're looking for tonight. Not from this shiny, but you'll get it nonetheless.

If your dance partner notices how you're putting on a show for someone else, he doesn't say anything. His hands twitch like he wants to reach out to touch, but he pulls back before he gets too close.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. In any other situation — if this shiny had been someone else — you would have found his consideration for your personal space sweet.

But once again, you aren't looking for sweet.

You turn your back to the shiny, face to face again with Wolffe, whose grip on his glass has gotten tighter and tighter, and press your ass against his groin.

The shiny gasps and his hips jerk against you. Finally, his hands close around your hips.

Wolffe raises his chin and arches a single eyebrow. Are you sure this is the game you want to play? his expression seems to ask you.

You hold eye contact as you roll your hips against the trooper behind you.

His breathy moan echos through your ear, not at all like the hearty groans that Wolffe would let out.

This trooper is all wrong — too sweet, too tentative, too quiet, too nice — but you know you won't have to put up with him much longer.

Not much longer at all.

Wolffe sets his drink down, still half empty.

A bolt of anticipation shoots through your gut.

Fuck, you can feel how soaked your panties are.

"Let's go," Wolffe's hand, strong and confident, closes around your bicep as soon as he gets within arm's reach.

You plant your feet as best you can, doing your best to keep your ass pressed flush to the trooper's slowly hardening dick. "I'm having a good time, Commander," you look up at him through your eyelashes, poking your tongue out to wet your lips. "But thanks anyways."

Oh, you're really playing with fire now.

The trooper's hands have left your body like he's been burned. "C-Commander," he stutters, stuck between standing at attention and hunching to hide his erection. "I didn't know she was w-with you, I'm sorry, Sir."

Wolffe sucks on his teeth before he jerks his head to the side, "Get the fuck out of here, trooper."

The man leaves, but you don't feel too bad about it.

You pull your arm from Wolffe's grip, but you have a feeling he lets you do it.

It's a trap, you know. Wolffe is baiting you into digging yourself a deeper hole but you can't help it.

Now that he's giving you attention, you're sucking it all in and demanding more, even if it's negative attention.

"What the fuck, Wolffe?" you demand, crossing your arms under your breasts to push them out more.

His gaze trails down, so obviously staring at your breasts that it makes your thighs clench in excitement. He drags his eyes back up to your face.

"You don't talk to me like that, girl," he says lowly, and it would almost be too quiet to be heard over the music had it been anyone else that said them.

But it's Wolffe, and you think you would be able to hear anything Wolffe said to you, especially when he said it like that.

Your clit throbs beneath your panties. You wonder if he'll like the nice gray set you picked out just for him.

"Don't talk to you like what, Commander," you spit out, digging your grave even deeper than before. It'll take forever to climb out of it, but you know it will be so worth it.

Wolffe leans in close, placing his hand to the small of your back and pressing you flush against his chest, "Like a brat."

He lets the words hang in the air between you.

Your breath catches in your throat, and all the previous bravado you had vanishes without a trace.

A brat. The label makes your mouth go dry and your cunt get wet with want.

"What are you gonna do about it?" you manage to say.

Wolffe smirks, digging his fingers in harder against your skin, "You'll find out," he replies, voice dark with intent.

And, maker help you, you can't wait to find out.

~

"Please! Please, Commander," you beg, your hips trying their best to jerk against his grip, "Please, let me come!"

You think you've been here, anchored on his cock by the strong hands that hold your hips still, for hours now. In that time, you've fallen apart at a rapid pace.

You know that your makeup, once applied to your face with care and a delicacy usually reserved for breakable objects, has smeared across your face from your tears. Your very soul feels like it's been exposed to a live-wire, and with every roll of Wolffe's hips you get closer and closer to burning alive.

You'd welcome the flame happily.

Wolffe grunts against your neck, not stopping the barely-there thrusts of his hips, "What did I tell you, girl?"

Smack.

Your shriek and buck against his grip. Your clit stings in pleasure, and when you look down, Wolffe's hand is hovering just over your swollen cunt.

Did he just —

Smack!

This time you get to watch as the flat of his palm smacks against your clit.

Pleasurepain shoots through your core. You cunt clenches around his cock.

"Fuck!" you sob, dropping your head back onto his shoulder as you writhe in his grip. "Please, Commander! I wanna come, please let me come!"

Wolffe hums uninterestedly. He seems so cool, so unaffected by your begging and by the way your cunt tries to squeeze the life out of his cock. "Answer me," he demands, placing his hand — wet now with your slick — back on your hip. "What did I tell you?" He rolls his hips beneath you, pressing against that spot inside you that no one before him has ever hit with deadly accuracy.

Pleasure shoots through your gut. "Please!" you sob, thighs trembling atop him.

Oh, fuck, you think you're gonna come. You can feel it building, can feel your core tightening like a rubber band about to snap.

Unintelligible words fall from your lips — a never ending babble — as your release builds. You try to rock your hips, looking for more pressure against the spot that only Wolffe's cock can hit.

He's ruined you, you think. Ruined you for any other man. How could you possibly try to fuck anyone else knowing that no one could compare to him?

You're so close to coming, you can feel it and you know it'll be devastating. One that will rob you of your senses and leave you a blubbering mess until you recover. Fuck, you want it so bad and —

Wolffe rips you off of his cock.

"No!" you cry out, thrashing in his grip as he manhandles you so that your face and chest are pressed into the bed.

Your pussy clenches around nothing, and you can feel the slick that drips from you. The way he tossed you around only makes you wetter.

"You bastard!" you curse, turning your head to bury your face into the covers, "Please, just let me come!"

Your body twitches with your ruined orgasm. Fuck, you just want him to touch you. One touch and you think you could come.

Wolffe laughs, that son of a bitch, behind you, one hand pressed between your shoulder blades to force you down into the sheets. "Now, that's not very nice, baby," he scolds. His other hand trails up the back of your thigh with a featherlight touch.

You try to push back into his hand that traces up the curve of your ass and yelp at the ensuing spank.

"Now, I'll try to be nice, because I know you've gone cockdumb," Wolffe finally presses his cock back against your pussy, sliding his length through your folds. The head of his cock bumps your clit with every slow thrust of his. "But, I need you to start behaving, smart girl. You've started acting like a brat," he emphasizes his words with sharp spanks, alternating cheeks each time.

The moan that is ripped out of you gets muffled by the pillow. "I'll be good!" You assure, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, "I'll be good, I promise, Commander!"

Fuck, Wolffe looks so good behind you. His normally well-kept hair is slightly askew, a few strands falling in front of his face, and his mouth is twisted into a feral grin that makes your cunt gush on his cock.

"Yeah? You'll be good?" Wolffe slides his cock back, lining the head up with your weeping entrance, "You'll be my good girl?"

"Yes!" You sob, hands grasping at air as your try to grab at him. "Yes, I'll be your good girl. Only yours! Yours, yours —"

Wolffe sinks inside you with one hard thrust. "No," he groans, "No, I don't think you're my good girl. Not yet." He pulls out all the way, but you don't have to wait long before he slams back inside you and starts a devastating pace.

You wail into the pillow, caught between trying to get away from the brutal fucking and trying to push back into it. He's ruining you, you think again, You'll never be the same again.

"Don't worry, baby," Wolffe spanks your ass hard enough to make you yelp, "I'll fuck the brat out of you."

Unfortunately for you, you have a lot of brat to get rid of, and Wolffe is only getting started.

[halsteadlover]

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: No.

• Summary: Jay finds a letter you wrote for him after you were gone.

• Warnings: some curse words, major character death.

• Word count: 1687.

• A/N: this is a really sad one. I hope it turned out okay lol. I decided to go for a Jay x reader for this one. Let me know what you think guys and as always sorry for any mistakes. Lots of love for y'all and thank you for every single like you gave to my previous work. Stay safe out there ❤️

Live your life today because tomorrow is not guaranteed.

Jay never fully understood the meaning of those words until they hit him personally. Of course being a cop was dangerous, he knew all the risks that this job carried but he willed to take all of them, he loved being a cop, save the city from bad people, make people feel safe.

He loved his job until now. He now hated it with so much passion because it took the most important thing in his life.

You.

He was sitting on the ground, in front of your tombstone while for the thousandth time he was reading your name carved on marble. He still couldn't believe it. Everything just seemed like nightmare and, God, he wanted nothing more than to wake up and know that it wasn't real.

But it was reality. The love of his life was forever gone.

It had all happened quickly, in the blink of an eye. One shot while chasing a suspect and you were gone. He stayed with you, until the end, until your last breath, your last heartbeat.

“Baby please stay with me... Don't leave me, you know I'm nothing without you ... Please” he cried as he held you in his arms with so much strength. He didn't want to let you go, he wasn't ready, damn it, he never would be. It hadn't been helpful to pray to God with every shred of his being to let you live, to give you another chance, to scream at the top of his lungs to hurry up and get an ambulance. It didn't help because by the time the paramedics arrived you were already dead.

“No, no, no, no, no” Jay cried frantically shaking your lifeless body, stroking your face, your hair, not caring about your blood that was covering him “Y/N, baby, wake up... You're going to be okay I promise you'll be okay... Please wake up don't do this to me... Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours” but your eyes were now dull, devoid of that light that had made him fall so madly in love with you.

“Jay ...” Adam spoke, placing his hands on his best friend's shoulders “She's gone” he told him, his eyes full of tears.

“No! No! No! Get your fucking hands off me! She needs me!” Jay screamed and it took both Adam and Kevin to hold him back and take him away. But he didn't want to leave you, how could they have taken him away from you?

Jay thought he'd suffered, fuck, he'd been through hell through his lifetime but nothing, nothing was comparable to the pain he felt in that moment, to the emptiness in his heart.

“My baby... Hey” he whispered “You promised me”, his fingers gently stroking your name carved on the tombstone “You promised me you'd never leave me. Why did you leave me?”.

Rain was falling from the sky but Jay was numb, he didn't care about his wet clothes, that he'd most likely get a flu. He felt so empty, a chasm in his heart that nothing could fill but you. He'd never felt anything like it, the pain he felt compared to nothing he had experienced, not even the horror of war. He felt like he was dying, he didn't know how to do it, he didn't know how to live without you. He had even run out of tears, he couldn't even cry anymore even though it was the only thing he wanted to do.

How could this have happened?

One moment you were in his bed, your body curled up against his, your head resting on his chest while smiling as you chatted, him kissing your forehead as he whispered how beautiful you were when you woke up and how much he loved you... But now you were gone, your body buried six feet under.

He wanted to ask you to marry him, he wanted to have a big family with you, kids and maybe a dog. He wanted to buy a big house with a garden and a swing, maybe even a swimming pool for the hot days. He saw in you his present and his future but now... Now everything was gone.

The team was distant as they watched Jay, feeling helpless as they didn't know what to do, crying. They knew Jay needed time to mourn your loss but they also knew he didn't want anyone near him. They missed you, of course they did, you were a part of their family and each one of them couldn't wrap their heads around the fact that you were forever gone. As broken and sad they could all be, they knew how difficult it was especially for Jay. God, that man worshiped the earth you walked on, he loved you more that he ever loved himself. The way you looked at each other, the way you talked... They'd never seen anyone love each other as much as you two did. The team knew they not only lost you but part of Jay was gone with you as well.

Jay stayed in that cemetery for hours and hours, as he had done for a week now, talking to you, as if it could bring you back. Will had made him stay at his house to sleep and forced himself to sedate him when Jay refused to do so, in the throes of nightmares and pain. It broke his heart to see his little brother like that and only God knew how much he wanted to take some of that suffering from him, if only he could.

Jay managed to enter the house where you lived only after a month of your passing and even at that moment, as he looked around and remembered what you had, how happy you were, he couldn't know how he was still standing.

He had found a letter while he was rummaging through your stuff, a grip to his heart when he immediately recognized your handwriting. He stroked where you wrote ‘for Jay’, with so much gentleness as if he wanted to imprint every little detail in his memory. With trembling hands he opened it and began to read the contents of that letter, heart beating fast and eyes full of tears.

Dear Jay,

If you're reading this it means I'm no longer there with you. Where do I start? You know I'm not good with this sort of things but I'll try my best.

So first of all I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry baby. I'm sorry if you have to read this and I'm sorry for the pain you're going through. I know what you're thinking right now so let me tell you this, it's not your fault Jay, there's nothing you could've done that you haven't already done. Don't blame yourself darling, please, because I don't blame you.

I don't know why I'm writing this honestly, I just feel like with our jobs tomorrow is not guaranteed and I don't want to leave one day without telling you how much you mean to me baby, how much I love you and how much you've changed me for the better. God Jay, I cannot put into words the feelings I have for you. I love you with every peice of my being and even if I'm not there anymore, know that I'll love you forever and nothing will stop that, not even death.

As George Sand once said “there is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved” and I've never found a so spot on quote because it reminded me of you. I didn't know what love was until I met you Jay and not just that, you taught me to love myself, to love people. You taught me that the world is not that bad like I used to see it and please baby, remember that. I know it's hard right now, I know you may hate everything and anyone right now, but I promise you it will get better as much as impossible it seems to be. The pain you feel will slowly go away and I really wish one day you'll think of me and smile instead of feeling upset. God only knows how much it pains me to know that I hurt you, I just want to see you happy even if I'm not there anymore.

I don't even know if what I'm saying makes sense.

My dearest love, know that I fought, I truly did, and you can't even imagine how happy it makes me to know that you were by my side, that you never left me till my last breath.

I know I promised you I'd stay Jay but life is so unpredictible and it's nobody's fault. I just want to tell you that I'm happy, I have no regrets, I lived fully and I loved as much as I could and I need you to promise me one thing. That you'll be happy again, life is not over baby and it's so beautiful I swear, you taught that remember? Promise me you'll found someone else to love and cherish for the rest of your life, that you'll have the family you always wished for. You went through so much baby, you deserve happiness and peace.

I don't want you to think that I left you because, baby I swear, I'd have stayed till we were grown ass grandparents with white hair and dentures. But, as I said, life is awfully unpredictable and now you need to move forward because great things are waiting for you I promise darling (you hated this nickname but I know how much you really loved it, don't deny it).

I'll be there for you, anytime you'll need me I'll be right next to you, don't ever forget that. Remember that I'm not gone, I'll look at you from up here my love.

I better stop before writing a book, I hope I didn't annoy too much baby.

I love you.

Forever and always.

Your Y/N.

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[xjoonchildx]

greedy | myg x reader | epilogue: bases loaded

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now.  until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 1.3K

notes:  thank you endlessly for reading, reviewing and sharing this story. i’m so in love with this tough-but-secretly vulnerable yoongi and you’ll never know how happy it makes me that you guys love him, too. i hope you enjoy how the story ends. either way, i’d love to hear from you! please send me an ask here and tell me what you think.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

*******************

Fuck, it’s hot.

The forecaster called for a high of 91° today, but he must have missed that mark by at least a hundred degrees.  There is no breeze and absolutely no respite from the unforgiving sun here in the cheap seats.

The Lions batter connects with the ball -- finally -- and Yoongi winces as he watches it sail right over the foul line.

Beneath his sling his arm feels sticky, itchy. 

He’d love nothing more than to rip that sling off and go to town on his arm with his fingernails, but any moment now you’ll be back from the concession stand.  You’ll probably hold his hot dog hostage if you catch him.

So Yoongi tries to focus on the game, not the itch.  But the game sucks and Yoongi curses under his breath when the next Lions batter flies out on the first pitch.

Nine weeks ago, Yoongi never would have guessed that surgery would be the easy part. 

Going to sleep for a few hours and letting doctors cut into his skin and bone turned out to be a breeze compared to everything that’s come after.  The physical therapy has been grueling and painful.  Simple tasks like dressing and showering, even pouring a bowl of cereal have become a complete pain in the ass.  

He’s not sure he could have gotten through any of it were it not for you.

By now, he’s lost count of the ways you’ve taken care of him.  Lost count of the meals you’ve cooked for him, the loads of laundry you’ve done for him, the very, very creative ways you’ve come up with to make love to him.  He’s probably due for a new couch at this point. The damned thing started creaking last week.

So he’ll buy a new couch. 

He’ll buy a hundred new couches if it means you come home to him at night.

The days of arduous physical therapy are long forgotten when you shower and slip into bed beside him.  When you warm those forever-frigid feet against his under the covers and curl into his side.  When you wake up in the morning and make coffee and tell him wild stories about strange objects you’ve pulled from someone’s strange orifice the night before.

That’s how most nights go.  But not every night.

So it’s not enough.

It’s not enough because no matter how much Yoongi gets of you, it’s never enough.  He still wants more.

He walked to the drugstore before the drive to Daegu today.  He bought you a brand new toothbrush, one of those fancy electric ones with all the bells and whistles.  And he’s been waiting for the right time to tell you all afternoon, appreciating your pretty eyes and sunburnt cheeks.  

Waiting for the right time to tell you that he really wants you to stay.

***************************

“Wow, that line was brutal,” you mutter, and Yoongi looks up from beneath the rim of his snapback to find you balancing two hot dogs and a basket of fries in your hands.  You drop carefully into the seat beside him, grinning.  “I thought I was going to have to fight this kid for the last ketchup packets.”

Yoongi can’t help but grin back.  

The game sucks and the heat sucks and his arm sucks -- but you?  You definitely don’t suck. 

“Can’t get arrested for fighting kids at the concession stand, Doc,” he teases.  “The lockup here in Daegu is not exactly swanky and I can tell you that from experience.”

He reaches over with his one good arm to steal a french fry but you wrinkle your nose, pulling the basket away childishly.

“The hot dog is yours.  These are mine.”

“Wow,” Yoongi huffs.  “You’re gonna deny a one-armed man french fries?  That’s dirty.”

 “I’ve seen your bloodwork, Min,” you shrug.  “It’s time to back off the cholesterol.”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head.

“So how’s it going?

“Bears are still up by five,” he sighs.  “Can’t believe I waited my whole life to watch them play this shitty in person.”

“Poor thing,” you tease, cutting your dark, sparkling eyes at him.  You begrudgingly hold a french fry out to him; a greasy consolation prize.  “Okay, fine.  I’ll give you one.”

Yoongi leans into you, pretending to go for the fry but stealing a kiss instead.  

“Sneaky,” you breathe, lips soft against his.  “But I’ll allow it.”

“Nothing to allow,” Yoongi smirks, grabbing the fry out of your hand.  “I already got it.”

You smile, turning away to look out onto the field.  

The stadium is nearly empty by now, most of the hometown fans leaving after the 7th inning when it was clear this game was headed straight into the toilet.  A Bears batter hits a line drive that whizzes right past the Lions shortstop’s glove and Yoongi claps a hand over his face.

“Swear to God, they haven’t had a season this bad since I was nine years old.”

You tut and hand him another fry.

“Namjoon offered me a job,” you announce, eyes still on the field.

Yoongi freezes, mid-bite.  

He knew this was coming, of course.  Namjoon had taken him aside one afternoon and spelled out his plan to extend the offer.  Yoongi knowing all too well that the Gajog has never been in need of a full-time doctor.  The offer is a gift, an extension of family protection.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know,” you grumble, rolling your eyes.  “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Okay, fine,” Yoongi grins.  “What did he say?”

“He said he’d set me up with a clinic space,” you murmur, watching another Bears lineman crack a base hit.  “Unlimited supplies.  Nurses, if I need them.  And he said he’d pay me more every year than I think I’ve made altogether since leaving medical school.”

“So are you gonna take it?” Yoongi asks carefully.

You’re quiet for a moment, dark eyes serious before turning to him.

“No.”

He knew that was coming, too.  

“I’ve worked really hard for this,” you say softly.  “And I want what I’ve earned the right way.  This isn’t judgement on you or them, but it’s not for me.  You understand, right?”

“Of course,” Yoongi says and he means it. You press your lips to his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder.

Secretly, he breathes a little sigh of relief.

He likes that you’re his piece of peace separate and apart from family business.  He likes that you’re his oasis away from the ugliness and bullshit that come far too often in this line of work.  He likes that you’re not some hand-me-down from a mothballed church widow or an act of charity from Kim Namjoon.  

He’s earned this thing with you all on his own.

“Doc,” he whispers, planting a kiss in your hair.  “I need to tell you something.”

“Go for it,” you whisper back.

“I bought you a new toothbrush.  It’s super fancy.”

You pull away from him, feigning shock.  “How fancy are we talking here?”

“Like, two hundred settings.  Video calls.  Takes bitcoin.”

“Ooh, that does sound fancy,” you breathe, smiling.  “What’s the occasion?”

Yoongi takes your hand into his, laces his fingers into yours.  

“I want you to move in with me,” he murmurs.  “If that’s what you want.”

You go quiet on him again.  Only this time, your mouth quirks into a soft smile before you lean in to press it to his.  You kiss him slow and unhurried, lips tasting like peanut oil and salt, and in that moment Yoongi decides it’s his favorite flavor of you.

“So is that a yes?” Yoongi asks, grinning when you pull away.

“Yeah.  That’s a yes.”

You both turn your heads when what’s left of the crowd starts to boo.  The Bears have just loaded the bases, top of the ninth inning, no outs. 

“This game is terrible and it’s blazing hot,” Yoongi groans.  “We should go somewhere to cool off.  And celebrate.”

“Hmm,” you sigh happily.  “What do you have in mind?”

“If you’re up for a walk, I know a place nearby,” he murmurs, planting a kiss behind your ear.  “Great milkshakes.”

You smile.  

***********************

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST 💕💕💕

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[thefanficmonster]

Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult. 

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better. 

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face. 

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions. 

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery. 

Wait, hold up, it gets worse. 

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that. 

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance.  I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

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[tuiccim]

Terrigenisis (Part 18)

Pairing: Stucky x Inhuman!Reader

Word Count: 1350

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (NSFW 18+)

Dividers by @fireflygraphics

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist

A successful mission complete, Steve, Bucky, and Sam are heading home. Steve stands at the back of the quinjet staring out of a window without really seeing anything. 

“I can see the wheels turning.” Bucky quips as he comes to stand beside him. “Mission or something else?”

“Peggy,” Steve says quietly. 

Bucky lowers his head, unsure how to feel when he brings her up. 

“She wasn’t my first love, Bucky. I know that’s what you think,” Steve says. 

“I don’t remember there being anyone before her. Who was it?” Bucky grins. 

“You.” Steve smiles into Bucky’s eyes. 

“Steve, you don’t have to say that.” 

“It’s the truth, Buck. I was always in love with you. I need you to know that. Always.” 

“I was, too.” Bucky smiles as he leans to kiss him. 

Steve returns the kiss and then gazes through the window again, “I loved Peggy. I did.”

“I know you did, Steve. She loved you, too.” Bucky reassures him. 

“She was brave and smart. Moral, beautiful, fearless. I would have married her, had kids, had a life with her and I would have been happy if I hadn’t gone in the ice.”

“Okay?” Bucky furrows his brow.

“But I think I went into the ice for a reason… I realized that while I loved Peggy, we weren’t meant to end up together. I’m not comparing them. They’re both their own person.”

“You mean Peggy and Y/N,” Bucky clarifies.

“I loved Peggy. I still love her. She was an incredible person. But I was wrong about her.” Steve looks at Bucky.

“What?”

“She wasn’t my first love like you thought or the love of my life like I thought. You were my first love and I realize now that you and Y/N are the loves of my life. I almost ruined everything. I’m so sorry. But I know, I know now. I want this forever. Us, The three of us. If you’ll both still have me.”

Bucky looks into Steve’s eyes tenderly. His hand comes up to caress Steve’s face, “I’m with you til the end of the line. Always and forever.” 

“Now I just hope she will.” Steve sighs. 

“Only one way to know for sure.” Bucky says. 

“I want to get married. To you. To both of you. Marry me?” Steve holds his breath. 

Bucky grins widely, “Yes. And yes let’s ask her.” 

---

A few hours later, you’re surprised when Steve walks into your bedroom. 

“Hey Love. What are you doing back? Where’s Buck-,” your words are cut of as Steve advances on you, lifts you against the wall, and kisses you fiercely. When he lets up enough to let you breathe, you stare at him. 

“Sorry. Mission went faster than expected. Bucky and Sam are handling the hand off. I needed to see you.”

“Why?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Stevie.” You say, feeling confused. 

“No, I mean, what I’m trying to say… You’re the love of my life. You and Bucky. I realized something. Why I was so angry with you before. It was fear and anger with myself and denial. I love you and I’m so sorry,” Steve presses his forehead to yours, “I want… I need you to know that. I need you to understand that you and Bucky are everything to me. I love you. I think you’re the reason Bucky and I survived. We were meant to find you. I love you so much. I’ll do anything to make up for-”

“Steve!” you cut off his torrent of words, “I love you, too. I feel the same for you and Bucky. I’m home when I’m with you. I forgive you. I’m with you until the end of the line. You’re my home. You and Bucky,” you kiss Steve with the same desperation he had kissed you with. A need for you to cement your words into understanding. When you pull away, you smile with tears on your face, “Stevie?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“Make love to me.” 

“You’re… you’re sure?” Steve looks at you wide-eyed. 

“Please, Stevie, I need you,” you whisper. 

Clothes are discarded as Steve backs you to the bed. Your lips barely part as you caress each others’ bodies, stoking the fire that burns inside for each other. When your legs with the edge of the bed, you sit down and scoot back. Steve follows you down and seals your mouth with his. You moan into the intense kiss as his cock nudges at you. 

“Doll?” Steve asks. 

You answer immediately understanding the statement and question laced in the endearment, “Yes. Need you.”

Steve presses in and your body gives in to him willingly. His thick length spears you open and you throw back your head as the sensation overwhelms you. When he’s fully seated inside you, he presses his forehead to yours, “Fuck. Could come right now, sweetheart. Missed feeling you around me. Missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Stevie. I love you,” you moan. 

Steve starts with slow strokes and with each one he moans, “Love you.” until the words become an incoherent chant as he speeds up. His hips grinding against you with each thrust. It isn’t long until the coil n you tightens and you know Steve is close after his penance of non-touch. 

“Steve, oh God, I’m coming.” The spasms overpower you as Steve works you through your orgasm, feeling every clench until he finally allows his own orgasm to overtake him. He thrusts languidly into you as he works through the aftershocks. 

“I love you so much.” He whispers again.

“I love you, too.” You gasp as his hips continue to thrust. He still feels incredibly hard inside of you. 

Steve surprises you when he pulls out, slips you onto your stomach and enters you again from behind. He stretched over you and holds your hands in his over your head. He rolls his hips slowly bringing himself in and out of you at a new angle that hits against your g spot perfectly. The slow pace is good at first but you find yourself wanting more. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah, baby? You okay?” Steve whispers  in your ear.

“I need you. More,” you whimper. 

“What do you need?”

“Fuck me, baby. Hard. I need to feel it.” 

“Fuck, doll. You always know how to drive me crazy,” Steve pulls out and slams back into you. His strength and pace push you into the mattress with each stroke. His hips slapping against your ass obscenely as he does. 

“Fuck! Yes! Give me all of it, baby,” you cry. 

Steve fucks you like a piston. You know you’ll be a bit sore later but for now the sensations he is evoking are overpowering every sense. The pleasure building borders on pain from his near brutal thrusts. Filthy words fall from his mouth as he praises you. Your body tightens and you’re practically drooling feeling his cock hitting you so deep. You begin to tremble and with a long moan you come all over Steve’s cock for a second time. Steve lets out a hoarse cry as he reaches his end.  

He rolls you both to your sides still inside of you. Once your breathing slows, Steve hugs you tightly against him and asks, “Can we stay like this for a little while? I just want to be close to you right now.”

“As long as you like, baby.”

“Now we just need Bucky to get back.” 

“How long will it take for the hand off?” you ask.

“Not long. They’ll be back tonight.”

“Mmm, good. Tony’s party is tomorrow night. I’m glad you’ll both be here for it. Sam’s supposed to bring his girlfriend. I haven’t met her yet.”

“Neither have I,” Steve says sleepily. After a few minutes, you thought he had drifted off to sleep when you feel a kiss pressed to your shoulder and softly spoken words in you ear, “I love you.” 

You grin, “I love you. Always.” 

Steve’s breathing evens out after a few minutes and, following his lead, you drift off to sleep, too. Safe at home. 

Part 19

Tuiccim’s Masterlist 

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Thursdays and Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction​ and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support! 

[buckysgoldenheart]

Just Something: Henry x Reader

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: You’re very cautious about relationships and don’t typically have them. Henry made you want to try, but you still struggle to keep your past from affecting your future with him. P.S. Henry is super supportive and caring.

Warnings/notes: Bits of smut. Fluff (ends fluffy). Emotional distress. Mention of past negative relationships. Anxiety. Cursing.

I tried to proofread this, but, like, i suck at it, sooooo....like I said, I tried :)

Words: 1675

As always, comments are appreciated 😊

You hadn’t moved since he started making you dinner. A mix of your favorite foods, because he was so damn happy, and he would do anything to make you as happy as you made him. It had been the same every night for the past few weeks. He’d been as sweet as toffee, and you were starting to get a stomach ache despite your best efforts to stave it off. You didn’t want to be sick; you weren’t supposed to be sick. But you’d never been overwhelmed with another’s affection before.

“So, I was thinking,” Henry called from the kitchen as you sat on the couch, staring at the wall. He popped his head around the corner. “Instead of renting, we should just buy a small place, you know, so we have somewhere to call home every time we’re back in London.”

You didn’t respond, not on purpose. It was like his words had smashed up against an invisible barrier surrounding your body and shattered to the ground before they could reach you. You instead tried to recall the name of the shade of white you had chosen for your walls all those years ago. Eggshell, you had decided. Must’ve been Eggshell. Though it could’ve been something stupid, like Dove-Feather White. You were in a different state of mind when you first rented your apartment; Frilly things and cutesy names brought unexpected smiles to your face. Comparing shades of a color that were really exactly the same no matter what lighting you viewed them under was something you needed before Henry was in your life.

Now you didn’t care, not really. He inched his way into making himself more important than wall paint or any decorative things alike. Back then, you couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad thing that he brought this change. When men mistreated you, you threw yourself into anything you could, and when you moved four years ago, you decided to focus on making a new space your own; whatever that meant. Spending a week choosing the stupid shade of white was therapeutic after you had just escaped another man. Then you met Henry.

Henry is different. Henry is different. Henry is different, you used to say over and over in your head, all the while wondering when he was going to do or say some random, unforeseen thing that neither of you could know might send you reeling. You figured it would happen eventually, you just didn’t know when. But then it didn’t.

“Y/N?”

You jumped at his voice. In your daze, you failed to notice him sneak his way beside you. When you looked at up him, he was already watching you, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Baby, did you hear me?” He asked as he ran his hand down your hair.

“What?”

He crouched down in front of you and placed his palms on your knees. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“Um,” You blinked hard to bring yourself back from the underside of reality. “Sorry, what did you say a minute ago?”

“Just that I want to buy a place in London for us.”

“Us?” Us. Not a word you were used to. Before him, it was always me’s vs you’s.

Henry chuckled. “That was the idea, yes.”

“Why?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking, but you knew the answer.

“Wha…What do you mean ‘why’?” He cocked his head. “I love you. We leave for there in a few days. It’d be nice to have a home to return to after a long day of filming, and I want that home to have you in it.”

You nodded, and kept nodding, more to yourself than in response to what he said. This thing between you and him was meant to last the totality of a single night and yet, somehow, he had made it a little too easy for you to want him longer. But at the time, longer didn’t mean forever, not to you. To Henry, though, allowing him to break down some of your walls gave him the freedom to imagine a future you weren’t sure you could promise. You wished you could promise him the world, but he didn’t want the world. He just wanted you. And maybe that was worse. Maybe that was harder to give.

“You, me, and Kal.” He smiled.

You stared at how his lips parted, how just enough teeth showed. Did he know what that smile did to you? Did he know it was one of the things that tricked you into craving him? Your heart fluttered inside you, but when your expression didn’t change, his face fell.

“You’re panicking,” He said.

“Henry—”

“I can see it all over you, baby. Is it too quick? I know we finally made things exclusive between the two of us, and that was a big step, but if this is too soon then we don’t have to get a house now. I want us to live together, but you have to want it too.”

He was perfect and, in a way, you hated it. You hated that he was so understanding and gentle to the point where your insecure mind questioned his sincerity. You hated that he made your stomach and heart and bones melt to goo when you’d spent so many years working to build yourself sturdy. But, fuck, you loved him. Sometimes, you hated that too. Everything is easier when you don’t love someone.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He continued. “I’m being selfish. You agreed to be mine a month ago and I’m already trying to—”

“It’s not that,” You said. But maybe it was. You weren’t sure.

You were so scared to break him. You were scared to break yourself again. The deeper your relationship went, the more it felt like a pane of glass rising to the sky. With each day you loved him, each step you took towards him, that pane rose. But the higher it got, you realized if this thing between you fell apart, the more shards there would be when that glass hit the ground; too many shards for the sheet to ever be put back together again.

The most horrible part of everything was that you wanted it. You wanted him and his love and Kal and the house, and you still couldn’t stop yourself from worrying and—

His warm mouth was on yours and you had no idea when that happened. He’d tilted your face up and his lips gently caressed your own, bringing you back. He always brought you back to the surface when you couldn’t do it yourself.

“Come on, baby,” He whispered against your lips, his hands dragging from your shoulders to intertwine your fingers. He pulled you up from the couch with kisses and nibbles on your neck that had you moaning. “I love the feel your pulse against my lips,” He groaned. “I love that I make it go faster.”

“Henry,” You softly cried.

He licked a small stripe along your collar bone then sucked at the skin. “Bedtime,” He hummed, and it made your entire body shiver.

“Dinner?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He leaned back to look in your eyes and waited for you to nod. When you did, he smiled and touched your cheek, then walked you to your bedroom.

Slowly, he pushed you back on the bed until your head hit the plush pillow he’d bought when he learned you were having sleeping problems, then he undid the button of your jeans and slipped them off with your underwear. You yanked your shirt off and he undressed, and as you tossed your bra to the floor, he crawled on top of you.

“You love me?” He asked, pecking your lips.

You wound your fingers in his hair, and his breath hitched. “You ask every day,” You said.

“Every day I need to know. I want to make sure I’m not forcing something.”

You sighed as he placed a kiss on your chin, then jaw, then forehead. “I should tell you myself without you needing to ask.”

He shook his head and said, “It’s hard for you. So, I will ask and pray you say ‘yes’ until you feel like you can say it on your own.”

For the first time in the night, you kissed him before he could kiss you. “I do love you.”

“And I love you,” He told you, as he had a thousand times before. He slid his hard cock inside of you before the emotional wave of his words drowned you fully. His gasp mixed pleasantly with your own. “God, I really love you.”

Whimpers escaped your throat as he pulled out and shoved himself back into you again and again until he was the only thing you could feel. His cock as he stretched your walls, the skin on his back trapped under your fingernails, his hot breath on your neck. All of it consumed you.

There were days, when your brain would convince you of the worst and you found yourself unintentionally keeping Henry outside of your bubble, your personal and safe space where no one could completely reach you. But, God, when you let Henry inside that space…when that bubble became both of your bubble, it was the best damn thing the world had ever or could ever give you. It was the best damn thing you could give yourself.

You wrapped your legs tight around his hips as he came, and the feeling of him spilling inside you sent you over the edge with a sob that he smothered when he kissed you. Your chests rose and fell in sync, then he flipped your bodies over until you were splayed on top of him. You lazily kissed patches of his skin from his pecks, to his shoulders and neck.

“I want the house.” You whispered.

His hands were on either side of your face in the same breath and his eyes searched yours. He smiled when you gave no hint of uncertainty. “Yea?”

“Yea.”

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

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[azurethevampire]

I Will Give You A Reason

A/N: Set in season 6, episodes 2-3 (I think at least it was those episodes xD) This piece is quite angst-filled one, so prepare yourself with tissues if you have to. If there is any mistakes to the few words/sentences of Swedish used in this, they are entirely my own as that isn't my strongest foreign language and I didn't use a translator. Also this was written about a year ago when I watched True Blood for the first time.

Fandom: True Blood

Summary: Emily and Pam have searched for Eric across the world. When they finally find the 1,000 years old viking vampire from France Emily's already shattered world seems to turn into dust: Eric, her rock, her best friend, the only father she's ever had, is sick. 

Characters: Eric Northman, Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, Emily Northman (oc)

Words: 2736

•-•-•-•-•

•-•-•-•-•

"Pam, you have to eat." 

You don't look like yourself, she wanted to add but stopped herself just in time. The vampire had been snappier for a few days now and Emily didn't want to make her mad at her. Not that she believed that Pam would really hurt her, even in anger. She had never done so after that one time and that had been when Emily was six and she hadn't known when to keep her mouth shut. 

Well, maybe she still didn't know when to keep her mouth shut —but she was better than ten years ago!  

Pam turned to look at the teenager—No. The young woman, that Emily had blossomed into in the last months despite that the world seemed to grow shittier every fucking day. Perhaps that was the reason why. Emily had lost that soft roundness on her face and her eyes were tired, dark bags under her eyes. Her clothes hung on her, and Pam, for a brief moment, wondered when was the last time the human herself had eaten. 

"I'm not hungry." 

Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead, she sat down on the only chair in the motel room they were in. "Snälla, Pam. You could at least stop lying to me about it - I'm not blind!" 

Pam was about to snap something back, but instead, her hand reached the doorknob. But before she left the room she turned to face Emily again. "If I can't find anything tonight, I'll feed on you tomorrow, I promise. Stay here, don't open the door to anyone and don't invite anyone in." 

Emily let Pam say those words the vampire had said every night although the girl is tired of hearing them night after night. But it seemed to help Pam, to get to remind her of those small yet so trivial rules. So Emily's "I know" echoed in the empty vampire-friendly motel room after Pam had left and closed the door behind her. 

Her eyes spotted the room key left on the small cracked table near the door. In the first months of their search, Pam locked Emily in but lately, the vampire had not taken the keys with her at all. 

And because of that Emily knew that Pam was starting to become suicidal in their search for Eric.

•-•-•-•-•

“I think I found him.” 

Pam has never - as far as Emily’s memory goes back - sounded more… excited? Happy? No, that is not the right word and she knew that. Pam’s voice was flat, she tried to hide the hope that had filled her but Emily felt it. It radiated off Eric’s first progeny and she couldn’t help it; for the first time in months, Emily dared to let herself hope too. 

But there was something else she sensed from Pam. She was sad too, and that made the girl swallow. “But?” When did my voice start to sound so weak? So small? 

Pam’s next words killed something inside of her. 

“Tara is dead. I felt it.” 

What felt like minutes passed and Emily couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move from her spot. Pam was still but there was no denying the glint in her eyes. Emily and Pam had never been the type to coddle each other. Never. 

Still, Emily raised up in her bed anyway, took the few short steps it took to reach the vampire, who had been her only family for six months now, and she wrapped her arms around her, swallowing and blinking back the tears she felt coming. 

“I’m so sorry, Pam.” 

And Pam - beautiful, bad-ass, smart Pam - returned the young woman’s embrace, letting bloody tears run freely, staining Emily’s shirt with red. 

•-•-•-•-•

The plane landed in France the same evening - Pam in a coffin in the cargo hold. 

They flew to the villa in France. Pam had told Emily that she and Eric used to live here before they were forced to go to Shreveport. 

She could see why the two vampires had chosen this place to reside in — even in the night, the garden surrounding the sand-coloured walls of the large building was breathtakingly beautiful. 

Emily had more pressing matters though than to watch the sights. She could feel him. First time in over six months, Emily felt Eric. That familiar flare that had so long been gone from inside her, burned again. No. Not completely familiar. There was no doubt that the vampire she felt was indeed Eric Northman. But his life force, which had always been so strong… it cracked. Like old dry cement. 

Something is wrong, Emily thought as she followed Pam inside, to a spiral staircase going down, down, down.

Emily swallowed. She had a bad feeling. Very bad feeling - and god, she wished she was wrong. She begged to be wrong. That there was simply something wrong with her own powers, and not something wrong with her Eric. 

Wishful thinking, foolish thinking, she knew. Knew because she had felt this same feeling before over the past months - recently more often than she would have wanted to. 

Emily and Pam started to make their way down the stairs, and Emily - her chest tightened in pain. 

Two youngish and beautiful women met the vampire and the empath on the stairs. One of them said something in French. Emily couldn't understand, she had never bothered learning French. Maybe sometime during 'forever' — she had used to think that. Not anymore, not for a long time now. 

She didn't know what the French woman said but she did feel their emotions. Confusion. Betrayal. Hurt. Confusion. 

The final round of the spiral and Pam and Emily saw the room. 

As soon as Emily's eyes fell on him, she felt her heart tighten. She had thought she had felt pain last night when Tara died the true death. She had been wrong. 

Nothing she had ever felt compared to the heart-wrenching, punch-in-the-gut pain that crashed over her like a hurricane when the dark veins creeping up her guardian's chest, the meaning of them, finally hit her. 

And even though her legs felt like boiled spaghetti, Emily forced herself to step closer to Eric. Eric who was sick. He can't be! He's Eric for fuck's sake! But he could be, and he was. "No" pushed through her lips, past the lump in her throat, the word sounding broken. 

And Eric. 

Eric Northman's eyes switched from his first progeny to his human equivalent to a daughter. "You found me."  

“How long?” Pam asked the question that burned on Emily’s mind too. It seemed that Eric was still in the first stage of the Hep-V virus but she knew that that didn’t mean anything. Not because she didn’t know how long Eric had been sick. He could have months left with proper blood sources but then again, if the disease got worse, he could only have days. 

The tall blonde vampire didn’t answer, not right away. He almost looked like he was about to fall asleep. Hot tears began to blind the teenager’s vision as she grabbed his hand in hers. His hand had always been cold. Cooling touch relieving to Emily. Eric’s hand was warm now. This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed at her. 

“Eric?”

“Can you repeat the question?” 

And those words that seemed so meaningless, so genuinely apologetic, were the words that sent Emily’s tears falling from her eyes. 

“How long have you been sick?” And Emily heard in Pam’s voice that she was crying too. 

“Saw the first signs last month”, Eric said and not once in the time Emily had known Eric had he sounded so weak. So tired. 

“When you were in St. Petersburg”, Emily heard herself say. She and Pam had tracked Eric there - Pam cursing all of the time they were in Russia, how she hated the Russians with her gut. 

Something flickered in Eric’s blue, tired eyes. And even though faint, Emily felt the emotion: surprise. And even if the situation they are in, is fucked beyond belief, the young woman of seventeen found herself smiling, just the tiniest bit. Because one didn’t sneak up on Eric Northman that easily. 

“Don’t act all surprised”, Pam said behind Emily. “We searched the whole fucking planet for you - St. fucking Petersburg, Eric? You know how I hate the Russian people.” 

“Well, I didn’t know you two were gonna come looking for me”, Eric said, eyes moving to Emily whose eyes squinted slightly. 

“Then you were an idiot”, Emily said in Swedish. Another small wave of surprise from Eric. Emily continued. “Why did you keep moving then?” 

“Yes, I want to know the answer to that as well”, Pam said crossing her arms.  

Eric chuckled, although it awfully sounds like a mix of a chuckle and a cough. Too rough, Emily thought. 

“Congratulations, Pam, Emmy-”, and Emily’s eyes were burning with unshed tears again because it had been so long that she had heard that nickname from Eric. “You have outwitted me.” His hand raised to touch Emily’s cheek. “But only because I’m not well.” 

Pam told about Tara, but to Emily’s confusion, Eric didn’t offer words of comfort, didn’t say he was sorry to hear that. Instead, he asked about a stupid bucket game he played in Marocco - the same game Pam had played last night to get the information of Eric’s location. 

“Oh… I liked the bucket game.” 

And Pam was about to snap, she already took steps forward, but Emily beat the vampire to it. 

“What is wrong with you?! You are Eric fucking Northman!” her hands balled to fists, the tears in her eyes no longer coming out of sadness, but anger. “You don’t give up. You fight!” 

“Fight’s over, Emily.” 

“This can’t all be about Sylvie.” 

Emily didn’t know who Sylvie was. But she knew that Eric giving up like this couldn’t be just because of one person. 

“Godric”, Eric stated. “Nora.” Emily felt a tug of pain in her chest, partly her own, partly the vampire’s whose hand she still held in hers. “And yes, Sylvie too.” 

And Pam’s next question made Emily’s heart skip a beat, two beats. Because she had never, even in her wildest worst-case scenarios, thought about that. Not until Pam put that idea in her head when she asked: “Did you contract the virus on purpose?” 

Eric wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do something so… he wouldn’t! but despite her thoughts, Emily couldn’t have said why she was suddenly so afraid of his answer. 

“On purpose? No-” Eric said, shaking his head a little, and Emily felt a relieved breath leave her. “But did I go about my dealings with a devil-may-care attitude? Absolutely.” 

“Damn you!” Emily snapped, but then she burst into tears. She was exhausted - she hadn’t slept since Marocco and even there it was just a few hours -, and the only thing that had kept her from having a break-down had been hope. Hope that she would see Eric again soon. But this reunion had not been the relief she had waited for. She was glad to see him again, but a small part of her wished they never would have found him. 

Because now, she was afraid. More afraid than she had ever been in her entire life - and that was saying something after the torture Edgington had put her through two years ago. 

Eric tried to reach for the girl, but Emily turned away, scooting back in the chair so she sat by his legs. She pulled her knees up, hugged herself tightly and buried her face in her knees as sobs racked her whole body. She was barely aware that Pam had sat on Eric’s other side, trying to reason with him. 

“Don’t do this to us”, Emily heard Pam start sobbing and she turned her head, just enough that she could see Eric and her again - and she didn’t want to. She really didn’t but she still reached out with her hand, and her fingers - still so small and slim in comparison - wrapped around Eric’s large hand the best they could. “Please, Eric…”, Emily sobbed, too. 

“God damn you!” Pam cursed.  

“For more than 1,000 years, the world has been my oyster”, Eric said. 

“And it still can be”, Pam argued. “I’ll do anything.” Emily squeezed Eric’s hand. Me too. I would do anything for you. She wanted to say but the words refused to leave her. 

“I’ve lost my taste for oysters, Pam.” 

“Then find it again.” Emily’s voice came out harsher than she intended and she gained Eric and Pam’s attention. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she uncurled herself from her position. “Du lovade mig”, Emily said in Swedish, desperately, and her voice was thick with emotion. 

Something in Eric’s eyes shifted. Turned softer and sad. “I know I did, sweetheart, but the world has changed since then.” He grabbed Emily’s wrist and pulled her towards him - and even sick, Emily found out that Eric was still so much stronger than she was. She was only human after all - even if it was with a little something extra. Eric’s feelings were clear and honest at his next words as his hand rested on the side of Emily’s face, thumb lightly brushing away her tears. 

“My sweet little Emily”, Eric whispered, his lips forming a quick smile, sad and warm at the same time. “You are gonna go out there. You are gonna grow up to be a beautiful, smart woman, go to some stupid fucking university and find yourself a good, loving human husband. You’re going to have kids and you will tell them stories about their 1,000 years old vampire grandfather… and you will be happy… Do you understand?” 

Emily swallowed, her hand raising on top of Eric’s now-wrong-temperature hand. She only barely managed to croak out the tiniest of “yes”. Even though she knew she would not do any of that. 

“You should go. Both of you.” 

Pam was crying but she was the first to rise from beside Eric and start to walk towards the staircase. 

This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed as she rose. Virus or no virus Eric was not just any other vampire - he was Eric! 1,000 years old vampire and a viking! Vikings had not just sat down and waited for death to come collect them! At least Emily didn’t think so. No. Vikings, they avenged. Just like Eric had avenged his human family only seven or so months ago. 

As his last act… Emily felt no guilt of thinking about this at that moment, no guilt about throwing someone else’s life to a path to death - as far as she was concerned the other person deserved it. 

As his last act before true death, Eric Northman could take revenge against the person who did this to him. 

“Sarah Newlin”, Emily said, turning back to face Eric again. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Pam turn on her heels a glint of surprise and (oh that traitorous) hope in her eyes. 

“What about her?” Eric asked, his eyes closed. 

“What if I told you that Jason Stackhouse let her live.” 

Eric’s eyes opened, his voice hardened. “He didn’t.” 

“He did”, Pam said, catching on to Emily’s plan. “And she’s out there.” 

“Where?” 

“No one’s seen her”, Emily said. 

“I have to imagine she’s in hiding somewhere”, Pam offered. 

Emily saw Eric’s jaw clench. Then… then, with what seemed like a heavy effort, Eric pushed himself up in the chair and slowly, slower than Emily was used to seeing the vampire’s motions - Eric Northman stood in front of her, grasping her shoulder, as his eyes once again roamed between his girls. 

“Well, let’s go find her.” 

Emily wasn’t naive. She knew that Eric was still dying, but at least now he wouldn’t just sit down here and wait for it. He would go down fighting. 

Just like he had taught her was the right way to go. 

Just like the viking he was supposed to be - just like Eric fucking Northman was supposed to fight. 

So, yes, Eric was still dying but at least now - and maybe it was selfish to think that way, but Emily didn’t find it in herself to care - Emily had a few more days to spend with the man who had taken her in as if she was his progeny instead of some orphan human child with empath powers. 

[disgruntledspacedad]

in defense of Din’s subdued reaction to losing the kid...

gif by @quantam-widow

I know we were all thinking it. We got a 2 second reaction shot to the destruction of the Razor Crest (may she forever rest in peace), but then, Grogu gets taken, and... nothing?

What the fuck, Din? we all protest. That’s your baby on that ship! Don’t you care? Scream, curse, kick a rock, cry, make a fist, something!!

I will acknowledge that so far, the show has been excellent with giving us emotional payoff, am I right? I mean, just today we got Din laughing, twice. Twice in a row. I honestly never thought we’d see that. There have been so many excellent, precious soft!Din moments this season, and they all feel deliciously earned.

So, from a meta POV, I guess I’m saying that I have faith in the writers to get it right, and in Pedro to deliver. Duh.

In universe, though, I think it’s fair to point out the obvious - that Din is a pretty reserved guy. He’s much more of a thinker than a feeler. He’s used to keeping things bottled up, and I would even argue that his life often depends on his ability to dissociate from his emotions. Din’s entire journey so far has been about how one little baby yodito shakes his worldview to its very foundations. He’s getting there, but it’s a slow process. 

And also, consider this - we haven’t seen Din alone yet, not since Grogu was taken. For a guy who lives a guarded life literally encased in fucking armor, any display of emotion is going to be carefully protected until he’s in private.

But anyway, Din is detached, rational, a little emotionally constipated, and definitely comfortable in a stressful situation. A true ISTP if you ask me (yeah, I know you didn’t, but whatever). Often, it seems that these cool headed, logical types who have never ruffled a feather over anything in their lives are the least adept at handling genuine fear. In other words, when panic does strike, it strikes them hard. 

And guys, Din was definitely panicking during this episode. 

He’s clearly unsettled from the jump - that outburst of “dank farrik!” in the cockpit sells it, and his distress only becomes more obvious from there. Talking out loud, trying to convince himself that the best thing for Grogu is for him to be trained as a Jedi. Reminding himself of the creed. His overt caution as they approach the seeing stone. His impatience, “Are you seeing anything??”

Then there’s the effects of long term stress. Sure, a bounty hunter in the outer rim doesn’t exactly live an easy life, but Din is definitely used to the drama being on his terms. Compare Din’s body language in the opening scene of season one to when Boba confronts him in chapter fourteen. You can just feel the anxiety, the weariness, the frustration. Din has been on the run for months now, constantly looking over his shoulder, sleeping with one eye open. Notice how he even startles at Fennec’s voice? Season one Din would never have given that much away, regardless of the situation. Long term stress has clearly taken a toll on him.

So we have unsettled, stressed out Din in an emotionally charged situation. He’s exhausted, he’s scared, he’s desperate. This scenario is a recipe for even the most level-headed of adrenaline junkies to loose their cool, and that’s exactly what happens to Din. He panics, and he makes some pretty big fuckups because of it. Leaving Grogu unprotected, twice. Trying three different times to break through that “force field,” even when he knew he couldn’t. Dropping that jetpack and then just forgetting about it (I know we were all screaming about that one, or at least, I was).

So, fear is a positive feedback loop. Those neurotransmitters that do us good in a bad situation - raising heart rate, narrowing focus, shunting blood to the muscles - can also be detrimental if we get too high of a dose - tachypnea and tachycardia, inability to think critically and see the big picture, lack of blood and oxygen to the brain. Epinephrine, in particular, even inhibits the laying down of new memory pathways. In other words, stress leads to poor performance, and poor performance leads to more stress, which leads to... you get the idea.

Then, in the middle of all this chaos, they fucking blast the Razor Crest.

More epinephrine, more cortisol, more stress. 

By the end of it all, Din is a fucking shitstorm of stress hormones and pent up emotions. Notice how he seems to be on autopilot in the immediate aftermath, robotically scanning the ashes of the Crest for anything that might be left intact. Notice how empty his voice is when he says, “the child is gone.” This is a dead man walking. Din has nothing left. His whole life has just gone up in smoke, and he can do nothing about it. 

Guys, Din is holding onto his sanity by a fucking thread in this scene. “The child is gone,” he says, like he’s reminding himself, grounding himself in his shitty reality. He’s stunned. 

And helpless. There’s literally nothing he can do for Grogu. He has no ship, no credits, no resources, nothing to bargain with, nothing to offer. Din literally cannot allow himself the luxury of feelings right now. He’s just got to focus on surviving this very shitty day.

Then, Boba Fett upholds his end of the deal, and suddenly, Din has something to hold onto. An ally, a badass friend, some hope. I don’t think Boba shows Din that chain code in order to verify his claim on the armor - he’s already wearing it, for godssake. I think Boba shows him the code in order to catch Din’s attention - hey friend, I know you’re hurting, but I’m a man of my word. When I make a vow, I keep it. Let’s regroup and go find your kid.

And Din would totally latch onto that. A fighting chance? Din fucking leaps at it. There’s a job to do. A kid to save. All of those stress hormones are going to keep on stewing, because Din has never really come down from his adrenaline high. 

It’s like this in real life, too. There isn’t time to be afraid. There isn’t time to be sad, or second-guess, or say, oh how terrible, or wonder what if it doesn’t work? There’s just you and the job, and if you are the only thing standing between life and death, you will put everything else aside and do what you have to do, for as long as you have to do it.

And that’s where Din is at this moment. He’s running on the fumes of his adrenaline, all tempered focus, all strategy and no bullshit.

Emotional shock, my therapist buddy calls it. Apparently, it’s normal. Expected, even.

But guys, the fallout of this kind of crazy ass adrenaline high is insanely intense. I’m talking collapse to the floor, legs won't hold you, trembling, crying so hard you sling snot, shuddering breaths, stare dead-eyed and spent at the ceiling because you’re just too wiped out to even sleep kind of intense. 

And then, after the breakdown comes the angst. The detailed thinking. The oh god, what if this had happened, or, should I have done that instead? It seems like every emotion that gets put on the back burner in the moment comes back to bite you with twofold intensity when all is said and done. 

In other words, Din is definitely going to feels some things .A lot of very intense things. A reckoning is coming, my dudes. Trust me. It’s just not quite here yet.

That being said, here’s what I can expect from Din going forward:

Just like he’s is slow to acknowledge his growing parental feelings for Grogu, I think Din’s going to be slow at processing his grief at Grogu’s loss. In the next episode, he’s got plenty to distract him - getting together his hit team to take back the kid and coordinating an attack on the empire. 

However, I do think we’ll get a slow moment with Din, probably sometime at the beginning of next week’s episode if the pattern holds. I doubt it’s the full-blown breakdown that we’re all needing, but I’m willing to bet money that we’ll see Din grappling with the fact that his kid is gone. I also think that badass beskar murder machine Din from chapter three will resurface. Stress and desperation make us do irrational things, and anger is one of the stages of grief that Din will inevitably have to work through (I think he’s flickering between denial and bargaining for now).

But then, after Din gets Grogu back? I think that’s we’ll have our big, dearly earned emotional payoff. 

For one thing, Din won’t be able to deny his feelings anymore. He wants to keep this kid, it’s so very obvious. Losing him just forces it all to the forefront. 

And then the relief/joy/regret/guilt that Din is going to feel once he’s got Grogu back? Not to mention the physical exhaustion? All of the fear/terror/angst/grief that he ignored in favor of just going pedal to the metal, guns blazing, get the kid or die trying? That shit’s going to crash into him with all the subtly of a fucking tsunami. I guarantee you, we’re going to get some sort of confession, or adoption vow, or face revel, or other sort of profound softness from Dad!Din in the falling action of this season (At least, I hope we get it at the end this season but I wouldn’t put it past them to kick it into the premier of season three, just for pacing reasons, but then again, I obviously have trust issues).

Personally, I would love to see Din grappling with the long-term fallout of losing Grogu - night terrors, guilt, paranoia, etc. That’s probably the stuff of fanfiction - mandalorians don't have nightmares on screen, surely - but still, some lingering effects Grogu’s kidnapping would be realistic, and I would absolutely live for it.

[moonlit-jeno]

high sex + jaemin

warnings: semi-public sex, minor drug use (weed), alcohol mention

The party’s already in full swing when you get there, your way blocked by people laughing and dancing in their own world. You cringe with every person you elbow past, apologizing mentally. It’s probably unnecessary, most of them don’t even notice.

Mark and Johnny are in the kitchen, making wild drink combinations that have you wrinkling your nose. You try one and nearly throw up. Johnny cackles and pours you all shots.

Chenle’s found the controls to the lighting and he changes them as fast as he can, cackling at the disoriented looks on everyone’s faces. Jeno’s quick to stop him, replacing the controller with a camera and telling him to catch all the drama. The lights settle on a gentle blue that joins with the hazy quality to the living room and makes you feel like you’re underwater, moving in slow motion towards Jaemin. He’s melted against the couch, head tipped back as he finishes taking his hit. White clouds float past his parted lips and he watches with heavy lids as they fill the room. A satisfied groan leaves him and his eyes fall shut.

Jaemin’s beautiful, you realize. He always is, always has been, but it’s different now. Under the blue lighting that fills the room, he looks almost ethereal. The type of pretty that makes you stop and stare when you see them in the street, the type that looks like they’ve just stepped off a magazine cover. You stare for a few long moments, taking in the way he’s got his legs spread wide, head tipped back to expose his neck, the loose collar of his shirt doing nothing to hide his collarbones.

His eyes are shut when you sit down but they slide open when you snuggle up next to him. A lazy smile comes onto his face, then, the type of smile that’s all teeth and happiness with no reason behind it besides the fact that he’s loose and feeling good. He looks you up and down, moves one arm to your back and pushes you onto his lap. His other hand sways gently in the air, the lit end of the joint glinting when you look at it.

“Hey.” You giggle, smiling up at him. He tips his head down to be able to see you better, the hand he’s got on your back sliding up to cup your cheek.

“Hey.” He says back, a little dumbly but it works nonetheless. “You high?”

You glance up at the joint before pouting at him. “Not as much as I should be.”

Jaemin makes smoking weed look like an art form. You watch as his pretty lips wrap around the joint before he tips your head back, leaning forward until your lips just barely brush. And you know the drill, you know what’s about to happen, but you’re never quite as prepared for it as you should be. Jaemin blows the smoke into your waiting mouth with ease, watches as you inhale it, watches as your pupils bloom that much extra and listens to the soft moans of contentment that leave with the smoke you blow out.

It’s easy for Jaemin to close that gap between you, to slide his tongue past your lips instead of smoke. You’re happy when he does, pressing yourself closer against him because he tastes like weed and the cotton candy liquor johnny had poured down your throat and it’s somehow the most addicting thing you’ve ever had.

His kisses are playful, kissing you before drawing back just enough that you have to curl your hand around the nape of his neck and pull him closer. His kisses are slow, acting like he has all the time in the world and refusing to speed up when you get impatient. His kisses are hot, his teeth nipping at your lip before his tongue sneaks out to soothe it, and he’s not shy about sucking on your tongue hard enough to send fire down to your pussy. It leaves you squirming, rocking your hips against him just to get something.

Jaemin stubs the joint out and his hand falls to your lower back, just above the curve of your ass. He feels you rock against him, he must, because his cock is hard and his fingers flex against you, sighs leaving him with every kiss.

“I need you.” You gasp out, moving to press a wet kiss at his earlobe.

“Yeah?” He asks lazily, raising his eyebrows as if he can’t feel the way you’re grinding against him, as if you’re not sliding your hand under his shirt, as if your nails aren’t scratching against his abs. “You need me?”

“So bad.” You moan out, playing it up a bit. He doesn’t need to hear it- he already knows how badly you need him, but he’s always liked hearing you beg. And you’ve always liked begging, especially on nights like these when your inhibitions are loose and you lips are even looser. “Jaemin, please. Your cock is so fucking good, fills me up so well. Want it.”

Jaemin takes his time tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You want it that bad that you’d let me fuck you in a room of strangers?” He asks, sliding his hand down to palm at your ass. “Want everyone you see what a whore you for my cock?”

A quick glance around the room reveals that everyone’s too out of it to notice what’s happening and you bury your face back in his neck. His body tenses under you when you suck a mark into his throat, the groan he lets out vibrating against your lips. “Mhmm, want them to see.”

It’s easy to convince him. He leans into the couch while you undo his belt, tugging his boxers down just enough to free his cock. His eyes roll back in his head when you dig your thumb into his slit, giving him one harsh stroke before sliding your panties to the side, taking him down in one go. Your skirt covers everything, or at least you hope it does. You couldn’t care less if it doesn’t because Jaemin’s cock feels so good in you, stretches your walls in the best way possible and fills your vision with stars. Your head falls back on your shoulders, mouth open in a silent moan, and start to roll your hips against him.

Jaemin looks utterly blissed out, one hand squeezing at your ass and the other landing on your back to pull you flush against him. His groans are rough in your ear and you muffle your whimpers into his neck.

“So big.” You manage your gasp out, rocking your hips and finding an angle that makes you really feel it. Your nails dig into his chest through his shirt and his curse gets lost in your moan, in the bass vibrating through the space around you. “Fuck Jaem, I fuckin- oh God.”

Everything feels like so much, the rawness with which you bounce on Jaemin settling deep in your stomach and making your skin burn. There’s a confusing mixture of desperation and laziness to the way you fuck and it makes your head spin, makes you grab onto your boyfriend to ground yourself. Jaemin clings onto you like he’ll die if he doesn’t and yet he does nothing to chase his high, just pulling you closer against him and sinking into the couch cushions.

“Pretty girl.” Jaemin whispers, brushing his lips against your forehead. It’s not like Jaemin to get talkative when he’s high and his words surprise you, make you gasp and clutch a little tighter at him. “My pretty girl.”

Everything blurs together for you. The music, the lighting, the knowledge that anyone in their right mind could look over and know what you’re doing, the tenderness that Jaemin touches you with compared to the rawness that his cock splits you open with: it all blurs into one endless feeling of ecstasy, consuming you until it’s all you can feel, all you can think about.

Jaemin’s name leave you like a prayer as you come, your orgasm sending you higher up into the clouds than you already were. He holds you through it, whispers “I’ve got you” as you shake apart in his arms, his lips pressed to your neck as he finds his own end.

Your eyelids feel heavy and your body feels too warm, your throat screaming for water. Jaemin’s stroking your back, whispering that he’ll get you water, that you’re amazing, that he loves you, pretty much whatever comes into his brain. And you don’t want to move, you’re so fucked out and comfortable that you want to stay like this forever, but Jaemin convinces you with his lips and a surprisingly hard smack to your ass.

His cock slides out of you and leaves you feeling so empty that you can’t stop the whine that leaves your throat, pussy aching with the need to have him back. He brushes your complaints away with his lips, leading you to the bathroom with his hand firmly on your waist, his chest pressed flush to your back. Renjun scoffs at the two of you when you push past him into the bathroom, high fiving both of you. Jaemin misses his hand.

You clean up with one of the nice fluffy towels folded neatly in the bathroom, Jaemin wrinkling his nose as he tries to wash the come out of your panties in the sink. He presses a soft kiss to your nose and smiles down at you. “You want to go to my room?”

“I want a burger.” You give him your best puppy dog eyes and you must look ridiculous but Jaemin doesn’t comment, just cooing and laughing.

“You want a burger? Then you’re getting a burger.” He wraps his arms around you and leads you back to the living room. “I’ll get Doyoung to buy them for us.”