#you can’t even tell somethings wrong with me in this fi *gets shot*

[lemonsandsadness]

GUUUUUYYYYYYYSSSSSSS

GUYYYYSSSSSSSS

(Ignore it’s just my jewelry)

GUYS LOOOOKKKKK

@dogbound1128 @angryvampire @olavored @alicenocooper @finleyforevermore @cat1nah4t @queen-of-weird-girl-nation

[gilverrwrites]

Hi

Could you make a Sam Winchester having erotic dreams with his female best friend?

Author Note: Hello! I hope you don't mind, but I combined this request with your other request for Dean in the same scenario (and added Cas cause 😍) I'm also working on a separate fic for Dean having erotic dreams about a rival per that request. I really hope you enjoy! ❤️

Rating: M/18+

Words: 1940 (Dean 685, Sam 685, Cas 570)

Request Info | Masterlist | Ko-Fi

It's a total coincidence that Dean and Sam are both 685 each!

Please remember: To focus on the things that make you happy.

Dean Winchester

“Oooh yes Dean, yes, that’s it.” Your voice sounds hoarse and breathy. Makes sense cause you’ve been moaning like that, praising like that all night. “You like that baby?” Dean asks from beneath you, completely entranced by the bounce of your breasts and the sway of your hips as you ride him. “You like fuckin’ yourself on my dick baby?” “Yes, Dean, yes! You feel so fucking good. Make me feel so good.” You chant, and when your head rolls back in ecstasy, Dean follows. His fingers grip at your skin, forcing you against him as he ruts into you, spilling himself inside.

That was last night’s dream. The most recent in a string of dreams that left him hot and bothered every morning. The worst part was facing you. Trying to look you in the eye, discuss a case, or make a game plan without thinking about you naked and moaning on his dick.

He’d been avoiding you as much as possible, but sometimes just your name was enough to make him pop a boner, much like the one he had now. He positioned his beer bottle over his offending member and forced himself to stare out the window, averting his gaze from the sight of you, bent over the nearest pool table.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” The sound of your voice made him jump. Man, how out of it was he?

“What?” He looked up at you, hands on hips, staring down at him. The sight made his lips dry. “Oh nothin’, I think I’ve had too many. Maybe I should call it a night.”

“You’ve had like two drinks. That barely even touches the sides.” You state, and you’re not wrong. You know him too well. He can’t help clenching his jaw as you sit down across from him. When he sees how your new angle offers him a perfect shot of your cleavage, he thinks he might start grinding away his teeth. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?” He leans in closer. Not to be closer, but he hopes leaning forward might help hide the bulge in his jeans.

“You’ve been acting funny, and avoiding me all wee-“

“N-“

“Don’t interrupt. Yes, you have.” You punctuate your statement by placing your drink on the table. You don’t slam, but it's hard and firm enough to communicate your point. “Don’t you try to deny it Dean Winchester! I know you too well. You’ve been avoiding me, and when you can’t get away you’re all squirrely and quiet. Now tell me what’s going on.”

He drains his beer as he thinks it over. Partly to try and return some moisture to his mouth but primarily to buy himself some time while he thinks things over. If he’s honest, he might get something out of it. A one-night stand, a fuck buddy, maybe more? Or he might lose you, which he couldn’t stand.

“I…”

“Come on Dean, whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We always do.”

Fuck it. You’re right. He gestures to the bartender for another round, takes a deep breath, and spills. And a funny thing happens: he starts to feel more relaxed as he lets it out. If you’re not into it, that’s fine. So long as it doesn’t scare you off.

When he’s done, he watches you as you process his confession. Man, he loves the way your face moves when you’re thinking.

“So…” You purse your lips and take a quick sip of your drink as you prepare your response. “What’s the problem? Do you not want to sleep with me?”

“No, I do. Obviously, you’re…” hot, incredible, the only woman I want. Unable to voice any of the thoughts in his head at that moment, he gestures to you, head to toe and back again. “I just don’t want it to cause problems between us. Our friendship”

 “Then we won’t let it.” You state matter-of-factly. “Now, are you gonna take me back to the bunker so we can fuck each other dumb or not?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Sam Winchester

His fingers are knuckle deep inside of you as you lay back, spread out across his bed. “Fuckkk… Sam!” You look up at him, eyes hazy, hair a mess, and he can feel his dick throb in response. “Sam, I’m so full.” “Poor baby.” He coos in response. “So full already, and I’ve barely even touched you.” He watches the way your expression melts at his words with pride, when he sees your lips start to form your reply, he places a direct smack to your clit. The whine you release is music to his ears. The way you wither and moan as he begins to play with your clit, fuck, you’re so hot. “Are you ready for more?” He asks. He’s pleased when you begin vigorously nodding. “Yes, Sam! Yes! Yes, please!”

Years of impersonating officials and hustling at almost every bar he stopped at had earned Sam a more than convincing poker face. But you always saw right through it.

For that reason, Sam had been bending over backwards to avoid you. He wasn’t totally sure what he was hiding, the fact that he’d dreamed about you, or the fact that he’d furiously masturbated to the memory of it upon waking up. Either way, he wasn’t ready to face you.

He’d hung back in the morning, grabbing his breakfast later than usual. Gone to the local library all day to research, citing a change of scenery when Dean questioned him, and had gone grocery shopping as an excuse to stay out later.

After unpacking the shopping, he’d hopped in the shower, making up for skipping his usual morning routine.

What he hadn’t accounted for was finding you, dressed in nothing but your panties and one of his t-shirts, in the centre of his bed. The very bed he’d vividly fantasised about pleasing you in.

It wasn’t an unusual sight. You were his best friend after all. You often hung out in each other’s rooms, and you frequently borrowed his shirts. He just really could have done without all this today.

“Hey Sam.” You greeted him with a smile, looking up from your laptop. “I missed you today.”

“Hey.” He responds awkwardly. Both hands clutching at his towel. He clears his throat before continuing. “Yeah, I was busy I guess. You too.”

“No worries.” You assure him before returning your gaze to your screen. “I could use your help with something if that’s alright?”

“Sure.” He approaches the bed. Certain close proximity will escalate his predicament he resolves to remain standing. However, looking down at you, with your head so close to his crotch, is equally stirring something within him. Reluctantly, he sits beside you. He glances at your computer briefly but quickly becomes preoccupied with adjusting and readjusting his towel, determined to cover the growing erection beneath.

“So, I’ve been looking into the apple of Sodom for Claire but…” he swears he meant to listen, but he’d never noticed how good you smell before, or how your skin glows even under the dingy light of his room. “Sam? Sam are you even listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” He finally tunes back in. “Apple of Sodom, Claire… hand of God?”

He looks into your eyes to judge his improv, but you’re staring, wide-eyed, right at the thing he’s been trying to hide.

“Is that- are you…” You look at his face, and he can feel the heat spreading across his cheeks. “For- because of me?”

“I’m sorry!” He stands, pausing to compose his words before continuing his apology. “I just, I had this dream last night about you, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about all day. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because you’re my friend. My best friend.”

“Right.” You always saw right through him, but fortunately, that was a two-way skill, and right now, he could hear, he could feel the disappointment you were radiating.

“Unless…” he cocks a brow at you, and your body immediately perks up. You look up at him, eyes hazy, identical to his dream. “Do you want this too?”

Castiel

You’re a vision on your knees before him, eyes watering, cheeks puffed out, hair tangled between his fingers. He stares intently, relishing in all the subtle movements of your faces as he lazily pumps his penis between your lips.  His grip grows tighter every time he feels the back of your throat against his tip. Your muffled pants and moans are music to his ears. The way your lips glisten beneath the sheen of your own saliva is erotic, and he worries the sight of you alone will be enough to make him finish before he’s really begun.

It’s that vision he’s thinking of now as he watches you on your hands and knees, scrubbing a chalk pentagram off the floor.

He’s brought out of his chain of thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Is there something on my face?”

“No.” He squints at your face; he is confident it looks fine, more than fine, beautiful in fact, but he examines it in more depth, nonetheless. “There is nothing on your face. In fact, your face is quite adequate.”

“Quite adequate, I’ll take that as high praise.” You laugh. He’s not certain what’s so funny, but the sound is exquisite, and only further fuels the unfamiliar fiery feeling he’s experiencing. “But seriously, why are you staring at me?”

Your line of questioning makes sense to him now. He briefly considers lying to you, but on the spot he cannot think of anything convincing. “I slept last night.”

“I didn’t know Angels did that.” It’s not a question, but he has learned many human cues during his time on Earth. You’re digging for more information.

“We can, but we do not need to, so typically we don’t. I thought I might trial it to see if it would help in replenishing my grace.” He answers.

“Did it help?” Your inquisitiveness is ceaseless. It is something he has always liked about you.

“No.” He replies, he enjoys the brief frown of disappointment you give in response. “I did however, dream of you.”

“Ahh, and what did me and my quite adequate face do in your dream?” You’re smiling again as you scrub at a particularly stubborn stain. He notices the unintentionally alluring way you chew at your bottom lip and is immediately reminded of the way you had looked in his dream, as you waited in anticipation for him to expose his genitals.

He allows himself to wonder how you will react to his next statement; he hopes you’ll be as excited and pliable as you had been in his fantasy.  “You were nude, on your knees, performing fellatio on my, well, my vessels penis.”

“Oh!” You respond in a tone that he believes to be humorous and a little surprised. Until you look down at your knees, considering your precarious position. “Oooooh.”

You don’t say anything else, nor do you look back up at him. He begins to worry that he may have said something inappropriate, or that you thought he had disliked the experience.

“It was an enjoyable dream, if that is your concern.” He attempts to offer comfort.

“Well, I suppose that’s good news.” You nod to yourself; your tone gives nothing away. “I wonder if my real-life skills are as enjoyable as your fantasies.”

“I wouldn’t know, we have never…” His line of speech, his thoughts are interrupted by the enticing sight of you crawling towards him. “Oh.”

[physalian]

“You didn’t do your research!” (No, my character is just ignorant)

I read a book where one character was a vlogger/professional photographer. I’m no professional myself but I do have a couple nice Canons and the equipment and I know my way around them and Lightroom and video editing. This was a major aspect of this character, not just a side hobby mentioned every so often.

This writer, importantly, was not a photographer and as I was reading, I knew immediately that they didn’t do their research.

Now, had this character been written as a novice, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. Had this been written as a hobby of theirs and not part of the main plot of the story, even, I would have let it slide. But the book said this character was an expert, and yet showed me a completely different story.

In this case:

Do your research

Or pick a field you are already knowledgeable in

Or put that trait in the background

—

But what if you have a character who really is a novice?

For example, Elias, my protagonist of Eternal Night, grew up incredibly sheltered. He does not know his way around a bow and arrow. I, however, very much do. I own a compound bow and have shot recurve bows. Dorian, my deuteragonist, has had a couple centuries to learn his way around archery, along with everyone else in the cast.

So when I write Elias shooting, or Elias POV talking about it, Elias can get away with doing and naming everything completely wrong because he has no idea what he’s talking about. Dorian can’t. Dorian is how I show my knowledge of the sport—that I did, in fact, do my research.

Do you need an example character? No, I just happen to have one.

The amount of times I have beta’d WIPs where authors are very much out of their depth could be solved in such a simple way: Make your character ignorant, and you solve your plot holes.

Now if I wrote Elias as an archery novice, and also suddenly an expert marksman, then yeah I’d still have a plot hole. But if he doesn’t hold the bow correctly and doesn’t name all the parts of his equipment correctly, or doesn’t properly take care of it… why would he know better?

These are kind of like unreliable narrators, only instead of telling the story with suspect accuracy, they are participating in the plot with suspect accuracy.

If you have to have a set piece with something you definitely aren’t an expert in and have researched all you can but it still doesn’t feel like enough, consider the following:

It does not need as much step-by-step detail as you think, especially if this isn’t a huge part of the narrative, especially if it’s niche. I have Elias learning how to shoot, but I don’t painstakingly describe his lessons, though I could. I tell you the ~vibes~ of how archery works, and I need not say more because none of this is the point of the scene—Elias learning a new thing and branching out is the point.

You can just say “Characters did this thing in the background and now we’re here when it has become important”. In sci-fi and fantasy, the more you give audiences to pick apart, the more they’re going to. You can describe how the artificial gravity on your spaceship works with your fantasy gadgets and fantasy physics, or you can just say “the ship has artificial gravity” and as this is sci-fi, readers will just accept it and move on.

But even in contemporary fiction. Say I’m writing about a high school yearbook class, of which I myself was our senior editor. I would ask myself: Is the book about the actual process of making a yearbook, or the characters who are making the book? I can spend pages upon pages describing the photography and editing and layout process of pages and spreads, or I can just have a character “editing a photo for color correction” while they’re having a more meaningful conversation.

If I wrote the former and this was a book that intimately dove into the yearbook process, then my readers would expect all those fine details. If I didn’t, then yearbook becomes the setting, not the story, and my readers expecting a high school drama might get bored by all the technical prose.

At the end of the day all those details are exposition, if the only purpose they serve is to exposit and not reflect back on the characters or story at large, then why are they here? I can make all the technical details interesting, so long as they matter to the character. If you don't know what you're talking about, then how can you know how they matter to the character?

There is a balance I think you have to strike. If you don't include *any* details about yearbook, then why is it set in a yearbook class?

—

But at the end of the day… if you’re not a photographer, and you decide to write your protagonist who’s passionate about photography, and the whole story is about the photography process so they can enter some competition, and you know absolutely nothing about the photography process…. Why are you setting yourself up for failure?

Instead, consider writing your photography-loving hero’s story about why they love photography (which you should do anyway). Take the focus off the mechanics and instead write about something many more people can understand, which is the emotional connection one has to their favorite hobby.

You might not know all the parts of a professional camera, but you do know what it’s like to spend hours at a time trying to make something perfect and the catharsis you feel when it works out, or the disappointment when it doesn’t.

That story I read above wasn’t laser-focused on vlogging, but the character had brought in all their expensive equipment to a dirty environment to film something and put their equipment in filthy places not the least bit concerned about any of it getting damaged or broken. The writer failed at the technical side, but more importantly, they failed at the emotional side. Halfway through the book and I had no idea how this character felt about their hobby.

Camera equipment is expensive. That shit is painstakingly maintained and cared for. You don’t just throw it around and accept that grease splatters will get in the way, you do the job trying your best to mitigate the potential damage and you worry the whole way that your camera baby took a beating.

Point being, even if the writer had missed the mark on the correct vocabulary, that wasn’t nearly as damning as failing to understand the big picture of why people do this hobby and the complications that come with it. They didn’t do their research.

—

If any of this resonates with you, consider checking out my book Eternal Night of the Northern Sky, out for preorder now, paperback on 8/25/24.

[rphelperblog]

Hope Mikealson Quotes

Part one—fixing one of the first memes I made on this blog- feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes-inspired by the ever lovely @thegoldenheiress​

“I thought you had something important to tell us.”

“Because you’re drunk. I really need you to focus. This is a matter of life and death.”

“In a shocking turn of events, I ignored you.

“I thought you had something important to tell us.”

“Please keep these two from trying to kill or die for each other.”

“Get to the helpful part!”

“Except that I can’t handle being around a bunch of strangers right now.” 

“Yeah. Uh, don’t worry though. Everyone here is dead.”

“You’re great at riddles. We should probably add fight training to your coursework though.”

“Yeah. Uh, don’t worry though. Everyone here is dead.

“save your breathe. You’ll be dead.”

“Yeah, super helpful. Ask a vampire how he turned a woman to stone.”

“Well, he walked away because he thinks I can’t handle him being human.”

“In a shocking turn of events, I ignored you.”

Are you seriously comparing my boyfriend dying to you not realizing that the guy you like was a good guy until it was too late?”

“You’re always telling me to connect more!”

“If I need someone to die a lot or be picked on, I know who to call. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean that.”

“Then you’re Batman and I’m Robin. Either way, you call the shots. So how do you want to do this? Fireball? Wind torrent?”

“We learned that in eighth grade.”

“Ah, yes. I did a spell to alter your appearance to turn you into the most vile thing I could imagine.”

“Sorry for wanting to protect the outside world from my mistakes. “

“It feeds on secrets, right? So let me have it.”

“Is it possible to die from a paper cut?”

“I’m assuming that you know this symbol.”

”and not a moment to soon, he was about to tell us how babies are made.”

And not a moment too soon. I’m pretty sure you were about to tell me how babies are made.”

“The entire world that I exist, and the boy that I love has moved on, and I have absolutely no idea what to do next.”

”What if the only difference is who tells the story?”

”When you spend so long in the darkness, sometimes, it looks back.”

“Every family has a legacy, and this is mine. I intend to fight for always and forever, even if it destroys me. “

“There’s a shelf life on doing the right thing. If you wait too long, it’s just wrong.”

“Every family has a legacy, and this is mine. I intend to fight for always and forever, even if it destroys me.”

“Funny because I thought it should be the one of us with high level super powers.”

“Well, you told me that you don’t know karate then you stepped on my feet during salsa and then you straight up refused to try synchronized ribbon dancing.”

“I never wanted to before because I would have to do it alone, but now I have you. And we make up our own faction. “

“This is a story. Our story of trying to be normal in a world that is anything but.”

“Because you’re drunk. I really need you to focus. This is a matter of life and death.”

“Said the narcissist.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Thanks so much for the villain monologue.”

“Toxic masculinity mixed with outdated sports pranks?”

“Except that I can’t handle being around a bunch of strangers right now.”

“Yeah. Uh, don’t worry though. Everyone here is dead.”

“I’m sure it was amazing, but I’d rather not talk right now. Let’s just do anything.”

“Get to the helpful part.”

“He won’t die! You know sci fi stuff. Help me! How do I kill him?”

“I’m in. For whatever crazy thing you were about to say.”

“Please keep these two from trying to kill or die for each other.”

“Wait a sec, why did we come to the lake?”

“when we are young we are taught the difference between hero and villian.”

“Wait! wait, hold your fire.”

“do you even lift, bro?”

“Can I kick your ass now?”

“Family is always and forever.”

“Every family has a legacy.”

“jessica, really?!”

“I just said some really harsh things yesterday. I wanted to get you an oil change.”

“I know this is important but mabye you could have put pants on before this.”

“I didn’t say I absorbed the information.”

“Religon has no place in the classroom.”

“It’s called accountabily. mabye there’s a bracelet for it.”

“Dude, you’ve lost it.”

“I’m gonna regret this aren’t I?”

“I’m not going to go alone.”

“Could be like super squad forming?”

“I now have my own avengers squad.”

“This is so much fun. I don’t know why we don’t do this more often.”

“So you want to play good cop or bad cop? Because I don’t think emo cop is a thing.”

“Pretty much your worst nightmare.”

“Suddenly everyone has a pyscholiogical degree.”

“No one likes the phone thing.”

“Though I do like the sound of his voice, it’s low, smart sounding and soothing.”

“Mabye I am a little biased.”

“excuse me.”

“It’s a gift from cheryl.”

“do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“deadly.”

“please can you not do all that again.”

“Perks of being an alpha.”

“i’m so lucky to have you both/”

“You think this is bad. It’s only going to get worse.”

“You should have thought second about asking to be her date?”

[raggedbreathwhump]

Whumpfic: The Hunt (Part 1)

Setting/fandom: Generic futuristic spy-fi.

Content warnings: Torture, PTSD, brainwashing, implied noncon, suicidal thoughts

Relationships: M/M

Total word count: 9906

Rating: T

Summary:

When Zack's cell door is inexplicably unlocked, he makes a run for it.

He has plenty of time to regret that, later.

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

"You shouldn't have done that, prisoner."

The voice comes out of nowhere and Zack jumps, heart in his throat. It takes him a moment to pinpoint the source – a panel of speakers up by the ceiling, something innocuous made for announcements. He swallows, tries to calm his racing heart and slips into the next room, navigating through this corporate maze. Almost every room seems outfitted with an announcement panel. The voice, growling with every syllable, follows him like a shark.

"That trick was cute, the booby trap on the door. Took me out, fair and square. But you didn't get far, did you? I can tell you're nearby. Don't worry, I'm going to be with you every step of the way now. Until we're in the same room."

Zack tries to tune it out. This is just a cheap demoralizing tactic. Even if the whole thing was a setup, he has a real opportunity here. If he sticks with it, he might get out. He might.

"You even took away my gun. Like I said: cute. Did you really think that one through? I already got a replacement, and let me promise you one thing, prisoner: No matter what you do, I'm going to use it."

He slips down the corridor. The room has at least three speaker panels and the voice is all around him, a tangible presence in his ear. If his heart was racing before, it's pounding painfully now, the gut-deep fear threatening to overwhelm his senses. He forces it down, recalls the entirety of his training – keep his mind cool, search for openings, wait for the opportunity, then move, with boldness and decisiveness.

The corridor is empty. It might have felt reassuring, but really, it just strikes him as the deserted death maze it really is. An arena to play cat and mouse in. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself at that thought. Keep moving. The next door, the next room – he peeks inside. There is a turret, facing away from the door, towards the other end of the room, Still no people. He steps inside, hugging the wall and ducking behind cover out of habit.

"Or maybe you thought it would... what, delay me? The extra minute or so I would have to spend to go out of my way to secure a replacement gun. That could be the difference between life and death, is that right, prisoner?

Wrong.

Listen closely. I'll let you in on a little secret."

Damn that voice. He can still hear Diego in it – his old partner, his old lover – but there is nothing he can recognize of the person he used to know. His lyrical taunts, waxing poetic about the mission at hand... Zack can remember that, still. But he's never had to hear it like this, with only the cold, vicious cadence of a hunter who can't wait to get his claws into him.

"You're here because of me." Diego's voice drops to a confidential whisper now, deep and gravelly. "That's right. It doesn't matter what you do, how much time you buy, how much of an edge you gain. None of it will matter. If you haven't figured it out already, this was all just a fun little exercise. A thrilling little chase for me. And a test for you, if you like. You failed, though. You fell for it hook, line and sinker. But I've been calling the shots from the beginning. I let you off with a head start. And I'm the one who made sure the entire area around us is on lockdown. You're not getting past that. And when I start to get bored... I'll start tightening the noose."

Zack's heart sinks. He begins to tremble, has to stop and lean back against the side of a desk for a moment to calm the queasiness inside him. He'd known, of course. He'd known it was a trap for a while now, and on some level, even before he'd set foot outside his cell. It was all just too convenient, but that was the training: leave no opportunity unseized.

Hearing it from him is something else, though.

The turret – he can slip past it if he's quick enough. Zack gathers his strength, disables it with a touch of his hand and the pulse generator built into his arm, then makes a mad dash for the door on the other side, slips through into another, bigger room. A conference room or something of the like.

"Couldn't wait to spring free, could you? I'm surprised at you, prisoner. I thought you had quite a cushy deal going on here. You work for us, and we keep you alive. But those terms just weren't good enough for you, were they?"

Zack takes it in with a practiced gaze. Two doors on the opposite end. Between here and there – furniture, several low tables with chairs, a powered-off projection screen, a decorative sculpture, and a fancy chessboard (likely just as decorative). He starts to move towards the doors, keeping close to cover.

"I'll tell you what... listen closely, prisoner-"

Zack freezes briefly, eyes wide as he hears the voice again – from the speaker panel, as expected, and a second, fainter source, from behind the door to the right. It's him. Fuck, it's him. He finds his wits in time to make a dive for the couch by the wall, the one that's facing most of the room, and hunkers down behind it. The door opens a split second later and a pair of footsteps in heavy boots enter the room.

"...because I'm only going to say this once. My superiors aren't too happy with you. Neither am I, you can imagine. After all, we had a deal too, didn’t we? I made you a promise, last time you tried to escape..."

Zack is frozen, pressed against the back of the couch. He doesn't dare peek past it. His body is screaming at him that he's about to get caught, overcome with an irrational conviction as solid as his bones that Diego will see him, smell him, can probably hear his thundering heartbeat right now all across the room. He tracks the heavy footsteps, his mind blank. He's been deployed on countless missions and found himself hiding behind cover, inches from an enemy, but never before has he felt such fear.

"Right now I have every inclination to make good on it, and I might not stop there. And after you're caught... well, who knows what the top dogs will do to you, when you're being so inconvenient. But I'll tell you what. You come out of hiding like a good boy right now and I might take it easy. Maybe put in a good word for you. Mistakes were made, but I'm not a monster, you know. What do you think?"

The footsteps are moving away now. Maybe it'll be okay – his mind jumbled, Zack realizes too late that maybe Diego doesn't expect to find him here, is failing to search behind cover as thoroughly as he might otherwise. After all, they do not know he can disable devices as easily as he can. They weren't expecting him to head this way, past the turret.

He can use this. Surely he can use this. If he can bring himself to move. Zack shuts his eyes, quietly takes a deep breath. His heart feels ready to burst out of his chest. His blood is pumping in his temples, something between nausea and a headache pounding in his head, and he feels achey and hollow and not quite attached to his own body. He has to snap out of it. Now. He needs to snap out of it.

"Are you here, little fox?" Diego says teasingly before sharply kicking open the door to the next room – the room Zack last came from. The turret! Fuck, if it's still disabled, if it hasn't completed its reboot...

Zack doesn't wait to finish that thought – Diego's back is turned and this is all the time he gets. He darts out from behind the couch and to the next scrap of cover. His heart sinks as he hears Diego hiss softly in realization.

"Interesting..."

The door – now! It's a straight line of open space between him and the exit, but he has to take it. Zack makes a mad dash for it, across the room, reaches it, pulls on the handle. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Diego's shape in the opposite doorway, turning towards him.

"There you are!"

Zack shoves the door open, all but falling through it. Inches behind him, plasma fire shatters the glass inlets of the door and  a shower of glass shards peppers the ground. Zack scrambles into a sprint. Another hallway. He has maybe one, two seconds out of sight and out of earshot. He picks a door at random, closes it behind him, keeps running past desks and chairs, kicks one out of the way, curses himself, chooses another door at random and keeps running. If he had a grasp on where he was in this maze of office rooms and cubicles before, he's lost now.

Diego's boots thunder through the corridor he left behind.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Diego sounds pleased, and – dammit, he knows the voice is coming from the corridor, but the sound of it over the speakers diffuses it, makes it harder to pinpoint. Zack is standing in the next room, briefly frozen. The way he's facing looks familiar, but he doesn't think he's been here before. He snaps out of it and keeps moving. Spots a door with a fire escape sign on it. Filled with a strange, sudden sense of hope, he runs to it, slips inside. If he can get to another level...

The staircase is there, and he can spot another door several stories up. His legs aching and lungs already burning from the chase, Zack runs up the metallic grate steps as softly as he can. Up close, the door is solid, metallic, with a round 'submarine' style window in the top half, and another office area behind it.

It's locked.

Zack has a brief, hollow moment of wondering just how long it would take Diego to find him if he just... stops here. Stops running and waits for him. As he was told to. There is no way out, he can feel it in his bones no matter how hard he tries to delay the inevitable.

The boss would be disappointed. This wasn't how he was trained.

It's an odd thought, but it helps.

Zack tries and fails to put his back into it for a few seconds before giving up, gasping. He glances back down. He cannot hear or see Diego except through the announcement system, but backtracking feels equivalent to death. He looks back at the glass window. Double sheeting.

Zack grits his teeth and pulls off the top of his jumpsuit to wrap it around his elbow. Desperate times, desperate measures and all that.

He smashes through the glass. It takes him a couple of tries and sends glass shards flying everywhere, and painful jolts through his arm, but he can worry about that later. The noise of breaking glass is deafening. He somehow reaches through for the handle on the other side, grasping blindly. Miraculously, he feels a set of keys in the door. He has just enough leverage to turn it, with the tips of his fingers.

"I heard that, little fox." There are no speakers up here, and the area looks older, but he can still hear it from the level he just left. Like a spur, it jolts him into action. He needs to keep moving. There has to be an exit here somewhere.

Before Zack has taken even a dozen steps into the room, it becomes clear that coming here was a mistake. The area is essentially one large room full of cubicles. An exit to the left has been sealed off for construction. An exit to the right has been bricked up. An elevator door – but there is an old-timey grate gate in front of it, with the key nowhere to be found. A ventilation shaft by the ceiling looks promising, but is higher up than he can reach without moving furniture around. Not when he's already out of time.

Out of breath, Zack ducks behind a cubicle just as Diego bursts through the door.

The enforcer stops in the doorway and surveys the room. He takes a deep breath, sniffing the air. Melodramatic as always...

"I know you're in here."

He says it calmly, matter-of-fact, and it sends a chill down Zack's spine. He watches as much as he dares through a crack in the cubicle wall he's behind. A dead end. He's trapped with no way out, but if he plays it smart and keeps his head, waits until Diego has moved away from the door and circles around, then-

As if reading his thoughts, Diego looks around thoughtfully and grabs a large, heavy cabinet next to the door. He pulls on the sides, and Zack winces at the deafening noise as the metal legs drag over the rough concrete floor. Diego pulls and pushes it into place until the exit is securely barricaded.

Zack stares, cold resignation flickering through his heart. Well, that's it, then. He'll never move it quickly enough to slip out, not with that amount of noise... This was place was a death trap, and he blundered right in.

In soft bewilderment, he wonders if this has been the plan all along. If somehow, Diego had meant to herd him into this one area where he would finish him off... he couldn't have planned that, could he? This hadn't been the plan from the beginning. Zack had gotten farther than they had ever meant for him to get, of that much, he was sure. For all the good that did.

Diego continues his soft, cruel taunts as he begins to search in a circle through the large room, clearing a row of cubicles with every few steps. He's away from the exit now. Zack could try, if he's foolhardy enough to try till the last, but he knows a losing match when he sees one. There seems to be something pathetic about being shot in the back while scrambling to move some furniture out of the way.

Diego is not close to him now, but he will be. There is no escaping him. There is no point, no feasible way for him to make it out of this, no benefit he will gain by trying to drag it out, stall for time. His heart is pounding, his limbs shaking from the chase, and more than anything Zack wants to curl up someplace dark and not... think, or feel, anytime soon. He'd never understood people who, in response to a crisis, simply hid in a corner and cried in panic, but he can relate to that a little bit better now.

He stands up, not bothering with cover. Diego can't see him yet, but he will as soon as he clears that pillar and makes another sweep. Any moment now.

Zack wants to close his eyes, gives in to it. Let Diego find him. Let him shoot him, for all he cares. He's had enough of this cruel game. He's ready to lose, just for it to be over.

"There you are." The voice is smug and satisfied, sending a lurch through him. Zack looks up silently at the figure of the enforcer facing him – gun at the ready, visor only partially concealing the pleased, hungry smile, and he is panting slightly. Zack has nothing to say to him. He's tense, bracing himself for the worst, but refuses to let himself fidget. Some deep, ancient instinct in him is telling him to play dead. Maybe if he doesn't move, it won't be as bad...

"Look at you," Diego continues. He can't see the man's eyes behind that visor, but wagers he wouldn't like the look in them. "Not even trying to hide now, are you? Smart. Pity you weren't this smart when it mattered."

He raises his gun, gesturing at Zack. "Now, while you're at it, why don't you raise your hands, too? Show me you're unarmed."

Zack glares at him slightly, a weak reaction that breaks its way through the fear. This is wildly unnecessary. Any idiot could tell you he's unarmed.

Slowly, he raises his hands. Diego smirks, nods with satisfaction. "That'll do. Keep still, now."

Zack swallows, everything in him tensing as Diego approaches him with slow, heavy steps. Zack can see him better than he wants to, now, can see every scratch and scuff in that heavy guard armour, can tell just how much Diego is relishing this. He feels sickened.

"On your knees, now." Diego's voice is almost soft, but there is nothing soft about the way Diego is looking at him. He stops a few paces away.

Zack obeys him, hands still in the air. He watches the sights of the gun adjust on him. On the other side of it, Diego is watching him with his head tilted, as if surveying a particularly exquisite piece of art. Zack stares back impassively, past the barrel of the gun. He has no more defiance left in him, not anymore. Somehow, that feels more like losing than anything else has.

Diego nods softly. "Good..."

Zack barely has time to process it as the man lowers his gun and shoots him through the knee.

With a cry and a shudder, Zack drops to the floor, then simply lies there, gasping. He can't quite breathe past the pained, choked noises clawing through his throat, and his leg is on fire.

"Sorry, peach. A promise is a promise," Diego says quietly.

Zack barely hears him. He's squirming on the floor, helplessly cradling his knee and making noises he can't quite stop. The splintering, burning pain in his knee is slowly fanning out, as if engulfing him in radiation. The concrete floor is cold against his arms, the texture rough. Heavy footsteps, coming closer. He tries to lift his head to look up. Something heavy – a boot on his back forces him back down, crushes him briefly to the floor. He chokes on his whimper.

"I've got him." Diego's voice seems high above him, and it's exuberant, breathless. Footsteps again. Diego is walking away, towards the door. "Yes, we're on floor 47. Send someone to bring him in."

Zack closes his eyes and rests his face against the concrete. He has trouble thinking past the blazing pain – he can't move, can barely think about moving his leg without feeling like his knee has become a thin sack filled with white-hot shards. Something in him distantly realizes that it's not good news for his mobility, or his future chance of escape. Can't run very far on one leg. They've got to patch him up, right? They have to. At least it's over now. It sinks in with cold, sickening relief. The hunt is done. It's over.

Peach. Diego called him 'peach'. His blood runs cold at the realization. An old nickname. A word Zack remembers being murmured in the dark, affectionately, with a kiss pressed into his hair before they both get ready to face the new day. A glitch, or a rediscovery? Of all the damnedest things to remember...

"Belay that," the voice snaps him out of it – Diego's footsteps have stopped without him noticing. He's still in the room. "Five more minutes. I'm not done yet. No. Don't interrupt. Vulture out."

Zack hears a click as Diego shuts off comms, and then the heavy boots again... walking towards him, again, back towards him, slowly. No, no, not this, it's over, it is supposed to be over. Zack squeezes his eyes shut, unable to think past the overwhelming dread, so much stronger in its comeback now that it had been minutes before. He stays still as a corpse. Play dead and maybe he'll lose interest...

Diego's breathing is hungry, as if he's savouring the air as he stalks closer. He doesn't say anything, but the next thing Zack knows, a hand has seized him by the collar and is dragging him across the floor. He groans with pain as his leg is jostled in the process, tears springing to his eyes. "Diego, don't..." he manages to gasp. His leg catches on the leg of a table and he only just chokes back a sob.

Diego doesn't grace him with an answer. He drags Zack through a doorway into a cul-de-sac of a side room that must have been a kitchenette once, as far as Zack can tell from his vantage point near the floor. Diego kicks a turned over empty water cooler out of the way. Zack groans as he is pulled upright, shoved with his back against the counter and his legs stretched out in front of him. He has no choice but to look at him as Diego crouches in front of him, leering.

"Alright now, prisoner. Just you and me again," Diego murmurs, exhilarated, like he can't get enough of Zack's terror. Zack can only barely focus through the haze of pain, and even worse, the helplessness that has washed over him. He's hobbled, unarmed and has nothing to do except sit there and pray that Diego will get bored quickly enough. That face – fuck, he can't bear to look at it. All the familiar lines are still there, except for the glint of those eyes through the visor – twisted and dark like nothing he has seen before.

He finds himself looking away, trying to avoid that gaze, but Diego reaches out to non-too-gently grasp him by the chin. Zack hisses, staring into those eyes again. "Before I take you back, let's make sure we understand each other," he says softly, menacingly. "You've learned your lesson, haven't you? I must admit, I haven't had this much fun in a long, long while." His smile drops then, his face deadly serious. "But the time for fun and games is over. I want you to promise me something. Repeat after me: I will never try to run again."

Zack stays silent. At this point, only the rush of fear and adrenaline is still keeping him lucid, but there are lines he won't cross, some tiny vestiges of his spirit still remaining that he refuses to let go of. No way in hell is he going to play along now.

Diego's expression twists in an ugly way, he seems both outraged and smug. He's enjoying this, Zack realizes with a cold jolt. He'd never thought Diego, his Diego, had it in him..

"...One more time," Diego says slowly, deliberately, growling every syllable like a dog chewing through a particularly delicious bone, "I want you to promise me. That you will never try to run. Ever again." He tightens his grip on Zack, shifting his weight, and with an awful certainty Zack anticipates the pain a moment before it happens – Diego brings his boot down onto his knee, and Zack twists, a sound ripping from his throat as the pain flares white-hot, sparks dancing in his eyes. Mindlessly, he tries to scrabble for something, but Diego pins him down effortlessly. "Because let me promise you something, prisoner," Diego continues, his voice low and gravely, "if you ever try that again, I will find you, prisoner. I will hunt you down, and I will make damn sure you will not walk again for the rest of your short, miserable life. So tell me. Do we have an agreement?"

Zack doesn't answer. And then a moment later, he can't speak – Diego presses his boot down onto his knee and grinds it hard against the floor, and Zack is screaming again... he barely registers it, only feels it as the strain in his throat and the sound ripping through the building, his vision blurring with white noise. He loses track of things for a while. When he comes to, Diego is slapping his face, and then there is a splashing sound, something cool dripping down his skin, and Zack slowly blinks as Diego caps a flask at his side again. "There we go," the voice mocks him, a hand is roughly holding up his chin again. Zack squints at the bright overhead lights, his eyes won't quite focus on the figure blocking them out. Another slap to his face, harder this time, enough to whip his head around and make his ears ring.

“You with me again, peach?” A hand grabs his chin again, rough, but the nickname stings more.

“Stop...”, Zack manages, barely able to focus on his face past the haze of pain, the bright overhead lights bathing Diego's face like a halo. He cannot comprehend this. His Diego... his Diego was never like this.

The hand at his chin drifts up his cheek, oddly gentle now, and into his hair. Zack's head drops, he doesn't have the strength to hold it down, and the cool fingers against his scalp are the only thing that feels good right now. He leans into them dizzily. “Matthew?” he murmurs, before he can think better of it. Before he can regret it. Diego's name, his real name-

A terrible, empty beat of silence, but Diego's voice is inhuman when he breaks it.

“Quiet,” he growls, hand tightening in Zack's hair again, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut against the sting. Squeaking noises – bottlecap again, and his head is being held up again as water sloshes down his throat. He coughs, convulsing, and tries to swallow.

"That's better," Diego is saying, as if through a thick wall of cotton, his voice cold and merciless. "I want to make sure we understand each other. So tell me, one more time. Are you going to run again?”

Zack squints up at him against the glaring lights, grits his teeth, and doesn't answer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Zack stares at the floor.

His back is to the side of the bed, arms folded over his knees. In the background, the distant alarm noises blare on and off. The emergency lighting is flickering every so often. It looks real.

The door to his cell is open, the force field having fizzled into nothing some minutes ago, but he refuses to look at it.

It looks real, but it isn't.

He tells himself there's a reason. It's been two weeks. Thirteen days, to be precise. His knee still gives him jolts of pain when he places his weight on it too rapidly - advanced corporate medicine can only do so much. He's in no shape to make a run for it, even if it's real. He'll just have to wait for a better opportunity. After all, he never did make that promise not to run again.

That's what he tells himself.

Inside, he knows he'll stay put the next time, too. And the time after that, if it comes to it. There is no leaving, not for him. Not with the heavy weight that settled in his limbs two weeks ago and has refused to leave – a taste like lead and the cold tang of dread.

He starts to imagine running. Making a break for it, navigating the maze-like corridors, alone. Taking out the guards. Hacking into security. Pursuit, the heavy presence hot on his heels. Hiding with his back to a couch, barely daring to breathe.

His mind shrinks away from it and he releases a breath, slow and deep, emptying it again.

The boss would probably fire him on the spot, if she could see him right now.

Heavy footsteps down the corridor. His heart sinks, and only when they come to a stop in front of his cell does he dare to look up.

Diego – the Vulture, Zack needs to stop thinking of him as him – cuts an imposing figure in the doorway, with his visor and shoulder pads and semiautomatic held in a leisurely but firm two-handed grip. The unsettling smile on his face only widens when he sees Zack. He takes a step into the cell, taps at at key on his wrist. With a hum, the force-field doors reactivates behind him, but everything else – the cameras, the lighting – does not.

Zack's heart sinks. Not him again. Diego – the Vulture has mostly left him alone since that... hunt. With the exception of being there when Zack woke up, a cheap cup of coffee ready by his bedside in some kind of mocking gesture. He hadn't touched it, didn't know what to make of it. The less he thinks about Diego, the better.

Diego slowly holsters his gun, stepping closer. The cell is small enough that Zack already regrets his far too vulnerable position now, sitting on the floor. He wants to jump to his feet, back away from Diego into a corner, put all the distance he can between them... but something in him makes him stock-still. Something about the predatory glint in Diego's eyes, the memories of that day, of having learned that if he runs, Diego will give chase. Avoid giving him reason to, even the slightest. Stay still. Play dead, give him nothing to respond to. He will get bored.

At least that's what Zack tells himself when Diego stops in front of him.

“Good boy,” the man murmurs. Diego holsters the semiautomatic, then reaches out, ruffles Zack's hair, and he shudders. “You didn't run.”

There is nothing he can say to that.

The hand in his hair drifts down, cups his chin.

Diego's voice is smug, but soft. “I knew you'd learned your lesson.”

Zack stares at the floor and finds himself wishing for a gun.

[wolviecat]

Let me care about you - Wolviecat - Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Day 13 of the Febuwhump, "Forced to hurt a loved one".

Even with Hunter’s enhanced senses, it took way too long to notice and understand. The air in the Marauder never was exactly fresh, with five grown men squeezed into space built to house maybe three, long missions back to back without a chance to at least air out their armor, constantly failing sonic shower and the relationship some of them had to personal hygiene. Hunter would end up with constant overstimulation headaches if he hadn’t learned how to filter most of it out.

But this was new - a strange, sickly sweet smell, that mixed with the usual stench of sweat. New for their ship, at least. He remembered it from the battles, when they’d got stuck without supplies, when bacta and antibiotics had to be rationed for those who still had a shot at living. All of them had several scars, uglier that was normal in the more civilized times. But things like that needed time to set in. The last mission they were on was too short and too recent for an infection to develop far enough, so unless someone decided to ignore an injury from two, three missions back…

Unless. He could just ignore that word and start figuring out which one of the four di’kune it was. His credits were on Wrecker and his if there wasn’t an explosion, it doesn’t count as an injury atitude, but they all had their own reasons, absent-mindedness or pride or lack of self-preservation. Kriff, it wasn’t like was never guilty of the same. 

He breathed in, trying to push away all the other smells and focus on just that one. It filled his nose, sticking to the back of his throat - rotting meat, infection, fever. He followed it through the ship, to their small galley. The air seemed to be filled with it, strong enough to make him gag. 

“Echo?”

He looked up from the data pad he was reading, and smiled. It was just a little strained. He looked sick, but he looked sick from the day he had been saved from the Tech Union. Skinny, the tan skin all clones shared overcast with gray, paper-thin and almost translucent, veins visible in places, shadows under his eyes looking more like bruises no matter if he slept or not. His hair finally started to grow in, and it helped a bit, making Echo look a little less like a lab experiment the Union made him into. But he was far from healthy.

“You are hurt,” he said, not even trying to mask it as a question. He could hear Echo’s heartbeat and breathing picking up at his words - it was already elevated when he came in, but now, it went straight to panicky.

He shook his head. “I’m fi…”

“No.” Echo flinched. Hunter made sure his next words came out less like a bark. “Please, just… don’t lie to me.” He sat next to him, looking at the way his living arm was shaking, at the droplets of sweat soaking into the collar of his blacks. “I know you are in pain, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Echo bowed his head, teeth worrying a line into his cracked lower lip before slowly nodding. He reached for the socket around his right arm, clicking the neural connection locks open and sliding the whole scomp extension off. 

The skin on the stump underneath was even paler than the rest of Echo where it wasn’t red and scraped, ringed with bruises where the socket was digging into it. He held it gingerly up, looking almost ashamed. “I was trying to get it off sometimes, but I couldn’t get it back on after…” he mumbled: “I think it swelled up. Didn’t want to bother you with it.” Hunter bit back everything he wanted to say, even if something hurt was trying to climb out of his mouth. He needed to focus on Echo and what was hurting him. 

“Okay,” he said, voice as level as he managed. “We can find some bacta and patch you up a little before we get back to Kamino and find you a proper medic. But that thing stays off for now.”

Echo nodded. Got up.

Someone would maybe miss his bit off groan and the way his hand clenched white-knuckled on the chair’s headrest. Hunter didn’t. He noticed the pain in Echo’s face with every step. Still, he felt like kicking himself. He was supposed to know, he was supposed to understand that the injury to his arm wasn’t big enough to be responsible for the smell. What else was his point?

He grabbed Echo under his shoulder, ignoring the way he stiffened against him. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Tech’s bed. It was the closest, and relatively cleanest. He would have to apologize for the ruined blanket later.

The damage was visible even before he could even get Echo’s prosthesis off - skin blistered where it met the mechanical parts, red and puffy around the ports connecting his nerves to the data cables. Hunter wasn’t an engineer, and he wasn’t a medic either, but he was sure it could be done much better. If only someone had seen Echo as more than a subject and a source of information.

He didn’t want to think about Wat Tambor right now.

“How do I get them off?” 

Echo just shook his head.

“Please, Echo, just work with me.” There was a line of buttons on the side of the thigh socket, and he pressed one of them. The prosthesis seemed to loosen a little, but Echo whimpered, clenching his fingers in the blanket. “Is something wrong?” Hunter asked, hands shaking above the buttons: “Have I done something?” Echo shook his head again, eyes screwed shut.

“No, just… just leave it.” 

“Leave it? Echo…”

“Leave it.” He tried to make it an order, pain mixing with the clear words of an ARC trooper. “What if we get attacked? I’m already an arm down, I would be useless if I would lose my legs too.” His breathing hitched. “I can’t be useless.”

“Echo…”

“I can’t be useless. Clones have a purpose, and if they lose it…”

Hunter hugged him, sharp edges of ribs and the implants on Echo’s back digging into his arms, tight enough to stop the words tumbling from Echo’s mouth. Forehead pressed into his.

“You have a purpose,” he said, trying to keep the anger he felt out of his voice. Anger at Wat Tambor, at the Kaminoans, at their trainers. At himself. “This doesn’t change it.” He pulled back so he could see Echo’s face better. “If you want, I’ll stop. But it will get worse if we don’t fix it soon.”

Echo stayed silent for a second, before finally nodding.

“Make it quick. Please.”

Four more buttons, then safety locks where the stump insided ended. Disconnect the ports. Pull the prostheses off.

Echo threw his head back and screamed.

Echo’s prosthesis slid off, leaving behind a mess of bleeding, infected and weeping wounds, fresh and old, sores and deep bruises. Echo curled up on his side, gasping and hiccuping, teetering on the edge of consciousness.

Hunder took a deep breath.

 

“One more to go.”

 

The other leg was worse. No matter how carefully Hunter tried, the socket seemed to be stuck in Echo’s flesh, and when it finally came loose, it was with most of the skin. Hunter found himself praying for Echo to pass out, wondering if the Tech Union somehow took this option from him too. 

Their med kit wasn’t anything special, but it has disinfectant and enough bacta-soaked bandages to wrap Echo’s legs, and a hypospray with a painkiller. He pressed it into Echo’s hip, waiting for him to stop shivering before he pulled Tech’s blanket over him.

“Try to get some sleep,” he whispered, unsure if Echo is still awake.

When there was no answer, he turned away, heading for his own bed. He was exhausted, and there was nothing else he could do until they would arrive somewhere with a medical center.

Thin fingers gripped his wrist. Echo was looking up at him.

“Stay,” he whispered: “please.”

He didn’t want to lie down next to him - if he would move in his sleep, he could hit Echo by accident. He kneeled next to the bed, head resting on the lumpy mattress, his hand holding Echo’s, thumb drawing circles over his palm.

“Sleep.”

His back would be killing him the next day, he was sure. But Echo finally closed his eyes, breathing deeply in an undisturbed sleep that was so rare for all of them.

[windudemon]

bukowski: unhealthy fi and se recovering in time

pdb people typed him isfp which is… probable. being an fi dom male, i can’t even imagine. so that difficulty can manifest itself like buko explains below. pdb people also typed him ILI in socionics which is definitely wrong. his se is nothing like inferior and then obviously the life he lead as also explained below in his own poem nothing like an ni dom planner and worrier. he clearly is the very opposite of that. but anyways, some very nice fi / se advice in this poem, regardless what type he himself is. maybe he is an estp with polr fi, it doesn’t matter:

‘Let It Unfold You’ by Charles Bukowski

either peace or happiness, let it enfold you

when i was a young man I felt these things were dumb,unsophisticated. I had bad blood,a twisted mind, a pecarious upbringing.

I was hard as granite,I leered at the sun. I trusted no man and especially no woman.

I was living a hell in small rooms, I broke things, smashed things, walked through glass, cursed. I challenged everything, was continually being evicted,jailed,in and out of fights,in and aout of my mind. women were something to screw and rail at,i had no male freinds,

I changed jobs and cities,I hated holidays, babies,history, newspapers, museums, grandmothers, marriage, movies, spiders, garbagemen, english accents,spain, france,italy,walnuts and the color orange. algebra angred me, opera sickened me, charlie chaplin was a fake and flowers were for pansies.

peace an happiness to me were signs of inferiority, tenants of the weak an addled mind.

but as I went on with my alley fights, my suicidal years, my passage through any number of women-it gradually began to occur to me that I wasn’t diffrent

from the others, I was the same,

they were all fulsome with hatred, glossed over with petty greivances, the men I fought in alleys had hearts of stone. everybody was nudging, inching, cheating for some insignificant advantage, the lie was the weapon and the plot was emptey, darkness was the dictator.

cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. the less i needed the better i felt.

maybe the other life had worn me down. I no longer found glamour in topping somebody in conversation. or in mounting the body of some poor drunken female whose life had slipped away into sorrow.

I could never accept life as it was, i could never gobble down all its poisons but there were parts, tenous magic parts open for the asking.

I re formulated I don’t know when, date,time,all that but the change occured. something in me relaxed, smoothed out. i no longer had to prove that i was a man,

I did’nt have to prove anything.

I began to see things: coffe cups lined up behind a counter in a cafe. or a dog walking along a sidewalk. or the way the mouse on my dresser top stopped there with its body, its ears, its nose, it was fixed, a bit of life caught within itself and its eyes looked at me and they were beautiful. then- it was gone.

I began to feel good, I began to feel good in the worst situations and there were plenty of those. like say, the boss behind his desk, he is going to have to fire me.

I’ve missed too many days. he is dressed in a suit, necktie, glasses, he says, “i am going to have to let you go”

“it’s all right” i tell him.

He must do what he must do, he has a wife, a house, children. expenses, most probably a girlfreind.

I am sorry for him he is caught.

I walk onto the blazing sunshine. the whole day is mine temporailiy, anyhow.

(the whole world is at the throat of the world, everybody feels angry, short-changed, cheated, everybody is despondent, dissillusioned)

I welcomed shots of peace, tattered shards of happiness.

I embraced that stuff like the hottest number, like high heels,breasts, singing,the works.

(dont get me wrong, there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism that overlooks all basic problems justr for the sake of itself- this is a sheild and a sickness.)

The knife got near my throat again, I almost turned on the gas again but when the good moments arrived again I did’nt fight them off like an alley adversary. I let them take me, i luxuriated in them, I bade them welcome home. I even looked into the mirror once having thought myself to be ugly, I now liked what I saw,almost handsome,yes, a bit ripped and ragged, scares,lumps, odd turns, but all in all, not too bad, almost handsome, better at least than some of those movie star faces like the cheeks of a babys butt.

and finally I discovered real feelings fo others, unhearleded, like latley, like this morning, as I was leaving, for the track, i saw my wif in bed, just the shape of her head there (not forgetting centuries of the living and the dead and the dying, the pyarimids, Mozart dead but his music still there in the room, weeds growing, the earth turning, the toteboard waiting for me) I saw the shape of my wife’s head, she so still, i ached for her life, just being there under the covers.

i kissed her in the, forehead, got down the stairway, got outside, got into my marvelous car, fixed the seatbelt, backed out the drive. feeling warm to the fingertips, down to my foot on the gas pedal, I entered the world once more, drove down the hill past the houses full and emptey of people, i saw the mailman, honked, he waved back at me.

visit my main blog @ demonwindu.wordpress.com

[826aliensapocalypseactivism]

Perfect

Emilio R. 

“Everything was perfect.” I said to myself.  

I had a perfect life but experiments from the government ruined everything and I lost my family all because they wanted to create superhuman-like individuals but it went wrong. I thought to myself.

“Why did it have to get ruined?”  I said.

“It’s what god wanted” I turned around to see my somehow alive wife speaking to me.

“How are you alive? You died. I saw it happen.”  I tell what I believe is her.

“I’m not. I wish I was though. Now wake up.” She says.

I wake up feeling confused but happy. I look around to see the streets of Nashville deserted. It has a building with broken glass all along the bottom of buildings. Cement with cracks in them. Blood splattered along the streets like someone was chucking water balloons filled with blood everywhere. Not a single person in sight unless you count the dismembered body parts. The phantoms must have gotten right through the city tearing apart everything and everyone. I remember the day it happened. The government decided to experiment on “The Dead;” they thought it would be a good idea for them to create real life superpowers. Although, thinking about it, I am not too sure on what made them think that experimenting with dead people was a good idea to begin with. I mean have they seen sci-fi movies before. I thought to myself.  Anyways, it’s not like I can do anything that was almost 20 years ago. I was 26 at the time and now I’m 46. It was my birthday a week ago. March 17, 2046. I just wish I had just one friend. I am sure I will find someone. I can’t be naive and think I am the only human on earth. I will find someone. Right? No! There has to be others. I think to myself. Maybe I am wrong though. Completely wrong. As I walk towards Virginia I realize the Phantoms roaming around but in this group I see something. A tickler. They laugh maniacally and chase you with their endless stamina and if caught they will literally tickle you to death by “tickling” but it really is just them scratching you slowly digging their insanely long and sharp nails into until they puncture your skin and kill you. A slow but painful death. I also see a wrinklespire basically like a casual zombie just each one of the five senses is slightly enhanced. At least it isn’t the worst one, the worst is the Knight. It’s a regular Phantom with armor and a killer instinct unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Although, it’s okay just about every Phantom can be taken down with a shot to the head from a gun. But, the Knight is something that must be shot multiple times with a special type of weapon. So, hopefully I don’t run into one of those. So, I was able to take down the Phantoms with ease and continue on with my walk towards Chicago. On my walk over I was able to see some wildlife, something I haven’t seen in what feels like eternity. Honestly, this really shook me up when this first started. Growing up I was always the black sheep in the family with everyone being successful in business making but I want to be in the army. So, that’s what I did. I made sure to workout a lot starting from the age of 15. I worked so hard and it eventually paid off. I was the top of my class and fastest in everything with the best records set. I was shipped off many times to Vietnam and a couple places in China. I am an experienced veteran. Which is why I have been able to keep myself alive all these years. But, I am saddened as I am given grief everytime I fall asleep because I see my family before our final moments together. I am often finding myself talking to an image of my already deceased wife. I still don’t know why. But right now it is the least of worries. It’s been five days and I am getting closer to Chicago. Suddenly these dark thoughts cloud my thought process. Should I even remain living? Maybe it’s just best if I join my wife up in heaven. I think to myself. I move on though pretending that it didn’t happen even though it did. As I start heading through the forest I realize the beautiful trees dancing in the wind and the wind playing a song that’s peaceful for the ear to hear. In a matter of time it already turns to night and I look up to see the Stars winking at me in the night sky. I then wake up to the sound of my wife calling my name.

“Gabe, it's okay.” she says.

 “Melissa, no it isn’t. I should not be seeing you right now.” I say.

“There is a reason and you will find out soon. I promise.” She tells me.

“Don’t leave. Let me go with you this time. Please.” I say.

“No, it’s not your time, you still can find happiness in this world just be patient. Goodbye my love now wake up” She says.

Gasping for air I woke up confused from what just happened because this wasn’t like the others. She said I can still find happiness as if there are still other people in this world. After packing my things and eating a couple expired protein bars and drinking some water. I get on my way. I fight off some more Phantoms. I also managed to hunt down two bunnies. At the end of the day I am able to see the Skyline. It’s then when I remember the beautiful nights me and Melissa spent with each other out and even driving out far to admire the most beautiful skyline view I have ever laid my eyes on. Those were my happiest times. I think in my head. As I was about to fall asleep I heard a scream echoing through the trees and the wind. I grab my guns and head down to see a Knight attacking a group of people who seem helpless. I ran down grasping my gun. Yelling at it to catch its attention and once I got the looks from it I started to shoot it with no hesitation giving those people enough time to move out of the way. It’s then when I remembered I forgot to bring the weapon that is specifically meant to take down this type of monster. I can’t turn back so I  fight it off with my gun and sure enough I am eventually on my last bit of ammo. I shattered a little bit of its armor but not much. I still need the other gun. So, I tell the others to run and follow me towards my base camp and they do. We eventually get to my camp and I supply one of them with a pistol and the other with a knife as I take the weapon that can put down this monster forever. Eventually, it is running at us full speed in a rampage. So as the others with me were ready to attack it got closer and closer and eventually in the blink of an eye it was shot down but I didn’t do anything. It is then when I see a beautiful woman a little younger than me smiling at me with her eyes. She waved for us to run with her and on the way towards wherever we stopped at a building. She enters a code and all of a sudden the floors open up and I see people. I knew it. I think to myself. Finally, we are safe. The girl named Brianna looks at me and takes me to a place with food and supplies me with everything I need and brings me to a little house. Over the course of time I find out Brianna also used to be in the military which explains why she was such a good shot. We even started to live with each other. After a couple of months and after some time we started to date. I was able to confide in her relieving so much stuff I had built up. But still I would see Melissa. After a couple of months we eventually said the words “I do” to one another. It was then on the night when my dreams of Melissa stopped and they never came back since then. I know things will never be the same again but I am happy and happiness is all I need. 

In this story I include the things about Melissa because the dreams are to show how he still missed a lot ever since she died. Towards the end he refers to her as Melissa because he found love for a new woman in his life. Eventually, the dreams come to an end to show he is finally over Melissa’s death and he is ready to move on with the next chapter in his life.

[leossmoonn]

Play Ground Days

masterlist

pairing - carl gallagher x fem!reader

type - fluff

note / request - “ughh FINALLY someone that writes good imagines abt carl from shameless! could you write one where you two grew up together and you've always been close n stuff and then at some point he realizes he loves the reader and he talks to ian and lip (maybe mickey too bc i love him) about it? (fem!reader btw if that's cool) thanks babe xx” thanks for inspo on the beginning @poesflygirl​ <3 ,,, carl and you are 16 also pls dont come for me ive only played COD 2 times last year so lmao i dont remember a lot about it, enjoy!

summary - carl has liked you since you two were young, and seeks advice from his brothers and mickey

warnings - strong language, drugs and alcohol, little talk about bad body imagine 

————

*gif isnt mine*

“I fucking knew it!” Lip exclaimed.

“Why are you telling us? We’ve known this.” Ian commented, smirking at his little brother.  

“How the hell—” Carl started. 

“You’re not exactly great at hiding your crush on her,” Mickey chuckled. 

Carl’s eyes were the size of saucers. “You knew?”

“Of course I did. I’m not fucking Helen Keller,” Mickey rolled his eyes. 

Carl groaned and ran his hands roughly through his hair. “I can’t believe this. Well, secret’s out, I guess. What do I do?”

“Just go tell her you like her. It’s not like she’s going to turn you down.” Lip shrugged, putting his cigarette to his lips. 

“Lip!” Ian hit his brother’s shoulder. 

“What?” Lip asked. 

“You weren’t supposed to say that, dumbass,” Mickey said.

 “What does that mean?” Carl asked, looking in-between his brother’s and Mickey. 

Lip sighed. “Ah, shit, right. I’ve already said too much.”

————

4 hours earlier: 2:00 PM

“Hey, shit head!” She called out, throwing rocks against the window. 

Carl got up from his bed, shocked but happy to see her. He opened his window, leaning against the frame. 

“What’re you doing here?” He asked.

She threw the rocks to the ground. “Escaping from my druggie dad, duh. What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” Carl shrugged. 

She did her signature smirk that always made Carl’s heart flutter. “Wanna go and stuff our faces at Patsy’s Pies?”

Carl’s eyes lit up at the mention of fatty, greasy food. “Hell yeah. I’ll come down.”

She nodded, going to the front of their house. Carl ran down the stairs, putting on his shoes and opening the door to find her on the steps. 

“Hey, why didn’t you just come into the house?” Carl asked, shutting the door behind him. 

“Putting damage on your window seemed more fun. Oh, hey! Do you have an extra bed I can sleep in tonight?” She asked. 

Carl nodded. “Yeah, of course. Your dad is that bad, huh?”

“Yep, he relapsed. Super fun,” she laughed sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry. That shit sucks,” Carl said.

She shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s life. Anyways, ready to go?”

Carl nodded. They got into her car, the girl starting it and driving fast to the dinner. As she was driving, humming to the songs on the radio, Carl stared at her. She was absolutely gorgeous. 

Her name was Y/n L/n. Carl’s oldest and only real friend. They had grown up together, Y/n living only a few houses away from him. They had met in detention in 1st grade and had been close ever since. 

“What’re you staring at?” Y/n asked, glancing over to him. 

Carl blushed. “Nothing.”

“Alright,” Y/n sang.

Carl had often been caught staring at her. It was something he usually did from time to time, but now it was more often. He couldn’t help it. There was something about her. Maybe flawless her skin was, how pretty and bright her smile and eyes were, the way she would make him feel secure and loved, something he had never got from anyone consitently. 

He never really knew why he thought those things about her. People had told him that he probably had a crush on her, but he knew that wasn’t right. He had crushes on girls before and the things he was feeling for Y/n were a lot different than what he had felt for his past girlfriends. He figured it was just that she was his closest friend and he happened to be a horny teenager, so naturally, he just thought those things about her. But oh, how wrong he actually was. 

Y/n parked her car at Patsy’s Pies. They walked into the diner, seeing Fiona at the register. 

“Hey, Fi,” Y/n smiled. 

“Hey, Y/n, Carl! Long time, no see. How are ya?” Fiona asked. 

“Good, good,” Y/n smiled. 

“Good,” Carl said. 

“Great! Well, get yourself seated and someone will be right with you,” she smiled. 

Y/n and walked off to a small booth and sat down. They picked up the menus that were already on the table. 

“You gonna get your usual?” Y/n asked. 

Carl shrugged. “Maybe. Should I change it up?”

“Yes. The double bacon cheeseburger looks good,” Y/n said. 

“Are you getting that?” Carl asked. 

“Maybe. I’ll probably get a salad or something. Gotta watch those calories, you know?” She half-joked, putting a hand on her stomach. 

“I think you look good. You don’t need to worry,” Carl smiled. 

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Carl nodded. 

Y/n looked back at the menu, hiding her embarrassment.

Carl complimenting her was something that was rare, but did happen. Y/n never remembered Carl as a romantic type of guy, but it seems that he had developed  those traits from having a few girlfriends. She liked that, actually. She liked him complimenting her, staring at her for minutes at a time, the way his ears would turn red when she teased him. She liked all of that. 

Y/n would never admit it to anyone, but she had a crush on Carl. She had a crush on him since their freshman year of high school. Well, in reality, she probably has always had one, but the first time she really realised she liked him was in biology when he got in trouble in one of the labs. She remembered when the teacher was yelling at him and he looked at her, smiling at her mischievously and winking at her. That wink had her heart racing and mind go foggy. From then on, she had liked him as more than a friend. Yet, she never said anything because well, as cliche as it was, she was afraid of ruining their friendship. He was really the only one who got her and who never abandoned her. She couldn’t lose him, so she just kept her feelings and gestures to him as friendly as she could.  

“Hi, I’m Carly and I’ll be serving you today. What can I get you today?” The waitress asked. 

“Hi, can I get the philly cheesesteak with a medium coke and fries,” Carl ordered. 

Carly nodded and wrote his order down, turning to Y/n. 

“Um, I’ll get the bacon cheeseburger with a small sprite and fries. Thanks,” Y/n ordered. 

Carly took their menus. “Great. I’ll have your drinks out soon.”

Y/n and Carl smiled at the waitress as she walked away. 

“Hey, so I thought your dad was in rehab,” Carl said. 

Y/n sighed. “He was, but I guess his girlfriend got him drunk, then convinced him to do some lines. God, I can’t believe he's even with her still.”

Carl frowned. “What about your mom? Where’s she?”

“She’s going to nursing school right now. She’s the only one responsible in this family, yet she never calls or anything,” she scoffed.

“You’re really responsible,” Carl said. 

Y/n smiled. “Thanks, C. You are, too.”

Carl laughed, “Me? I sold drugs on the streets once.”

She giggled. “True. But you’ve really shaped. I'm proud.”

Carl smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Y/n hummed a ‘you’re welcome’. Carly came back with their food quickly and they dug in. Carl and Y/n spent their time talking and eating, spending about 2 hours there as they just kept talking. 

“Are you two finished?” Carly asked, gesturing to their empty plates. 

“Yeah,” Carl nodded. 

“Great. Here’s your bill, pay whenever you’re ready,” Carly smiled and took their dirty dishes. 

“Ready to go?” Y/n asked. 

Carl nodded and got out his wallet that he had in his shorts. Meanwhile, Y/n also got out her wallet. They both looked up at each other, awkward expressions on their faces. 

“Oh, I was gonna pay,” Carl said. “No, no, my treat. I invited you here,” Y/n said. 

“You sure?” Carl asked. 

She smiled and put a hand on his arm. “Yes, I am, Carl.”

Butterflies irrupted in Carl’s stomach as she touched him. He nodded slowly, putting his credit card away. Y/n and him walked up to the register and paid for their meal. They then went back to Y/n car. 

“What do you wanna do now?” Y/n asked. 

“Wanna play COD Black Ops 3?” Carl asked. 

“Yes!” Y/n smiled. She drove them back to his house, parking haphazardly on the street. 

The two hurried into the house, grabbing a seat on the couch. Carl got the controllers, turning onto the playstation. Y/n logged onto her account, selecting the gun she wanted to use. Carl then started the game. 

“Where are you?” Y/n squinted her eyes at the screen. 

“Right behind you,” Carl smirked. 

Y/n turned around, gasping as Carl shot her. 

“Fuck you!” Y/n exclaimed. 

“Little rusty, huh?” Carl teased. She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna kill you next round.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Carl said. 

“Winner gets to pick what’s for dinner,” Y/n said. 

“Deal,” Carl nodded. 

The pair played for a couple hours, the game ending with Y/n getting the last kill. 

“Good game,” she smirked, setting the controller down. 

“I forgot how good you were at this,” Carl frowned. Y/n giggled, “I forgot how bad you were.”

Carl rolled his eyes with a smile. “Alright, where do you want to eat?”

“Hm… Noodles n Company?” She suggested. 

“Sure,” Carl nodded. 

“Alright, I’m gonna use the bathroom and then order. Text me what you want,” Y/n said, getting up from the couch. 

Carl nodded and watched her go upstairs to use the bathroom. Then that’s when Lip, Ian, and Mickey all came into the house. 

“Hey, guys,” Carl said. 

“Hey,” Ian smiled. 

“Is Y/n here? We saw her car out front,” Lip said. “Yeah, she is,” Carl nodded. 

“Asked her out yet?” Lip smirked. Carl’s face turned red. “Wh-What?”

“Oh, you’re not in love with her then?” Ian furrowed his brows. 

“I… am I?” Carl asked. 

Ian chuckled. “Yeah. You always are always happy around her, blush whenever she teases you.”

“And you’re always staring at her,” Lip added.

“That doesn’t mean I like her,” Carl said.

“Do feel dizzy and nauseous when she touches you? Does your heart race when she gets close? Do you see yourself kissing her? Would you do anything for her?” Ian asked. 

Carl furrowed his brows. They were right, all those things did happen when she was near. She was his best friend. He also sometimes think about kissing her and being with her in a romantic way. And yeah, of course he would do anything for her. Maybe… Maybe he did love her. 

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “I… I guess I am in love with her.”

And that, ladies and gents, is where we left off. Lip, Ian, and Mickey teased Carl until Carl begged them for real help. 

“What do you mean?” Carl asked anxiously. 

Lip looked to Ian and Mickey for help on what to say. Little did Carl know, Y/n actually did admit her crush to someone. And that someone, or someones, were Lip, Ian, and Mickey. 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Mickey said. 

“Did she say something to you?” Carl asked. “No,” Ian shook his head. “Like Mick said, don’t worry.”

“I… fine. Well, what do I do then?” Carl asked in slight distress.

“Give her some flowers and chocolate. Girls love that shit,” Lip suggested. 

“Alright,” Carl nodded. “I don’t know what her favourite flowers are, though.”

“Just get her roses. That’s really romantic,” Lip said. 

Carl smiled, “Alright. Awesome. Thanks, guys.”

He decided to get the flowers early morning tomorrow before Y/n woke up. 

————

Carl sneaked back into the house, hoping not to wake Y/n up. As he walked into the kitchen, he was shocked to see her at the table drinking coffee. 

“Hey, Carl!” Y/n smiled. 

Carl’s eyes were blown wide. “I.. uh…”

“Who are those for?” Y/n got up and pointed to the flowers and chocolate in his hand. 

“Um… you?” Carl said. Y/n smiled. “Me? What did I do to deserve this?”

Carl knew that he couldn’t make up an excuse. He was horrible at lying to her. So, he decided to just have his confession here. 

“I.. I’m in love with you,” Carl said. Y/n’s jaw dropped and she froze. “Wha-What?”

“My brothers and Mickey helped me realise I was yesterday when you were ordering dinner. They told me I should get you flowers and stuff so I did. I hope you like roses,” Carl explained and held up the gifts. 

Y/n’s lips upturned in a wide smile. “How long have you liked me?”

“Honestly, probably since we were little,” Carl shrugged sheepishly. 

Y/n giggled. “Me, too.”

“Really?” Carl smiled. 

Y/n waked up to him and took the gifts, setting them on the kitchen counter. She went up to him and put her arms around his neck. 

“Yep. I always have,” she grinned. 

“Oh, sick!” Carl exclaimed. “Oh wait.”

“What?” Y/n asked in confusion. 

“That’s what they meant!” Carl exclaimed in realisation.

“Who? What?” “Oh, Lip, Mickey, and Ian kind of told me yesterday when I asked for help,” Carl explained. 

Y/n’s eyes widened and she turned to the stairs, glaring. “Mickey, Lip, Ian! You better fucking run!”  

————

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[sylverstorms]

Dimitrescus x Maiden---- The End of Winter(s)

Requested here. (I don't always have time for requests but we all needed this one.)

First come the gunshots.

Then, a feeling of dread.

It is strange; You’ve had intruders enter the castle before, in the years you’ve been with the Dimitrescus. Some lasted seconds, others hours. There were one or two the daughters kept around for more than a day, just for the thrill of the chase.

It is not the first time you hear a gun go off in the estate. Your past also renders the sound familiar, nothing remarkable.

But.

You can’t shake off the nausea that accompanies it this time. Your chest constricts and your gut churns and you just know something has gone terribly wrong.

Your fears are confirmed when, minutes later, Bela stumbles in from the doorway, her usual grace and aura of certainty completely gone. She is shivering, shaking, chilled to the bone. The visible patches of her skin look grey and hardened into an almost diamond substance. Flies are breaking apart from her and falling, twitching, to the floor.

You immediately rush to her and she collapses forward in your embrace. Her chin knocks against your shoulder, cold as a block of ice.

“Bela, love, what happened?!” you ask, while leading her to the nearest fireplace. Of course, you know about their weakness.

But how does he?

She wraps her arms around your waist tight, almost too tight, like she’s on the verge of breaking apart –physically, mentally—and you’re the only anchor she’s got.

From the top of the staircase, you hear Alcina’s hurried steps. Another door snaps open in the far corner of the room and you see Cassandra materialize out of the swarm there, then rush over to you.

“I… I… This can’t be happening.” Bela whispers, gasping for breath.

You can only hold her more securely against you, running your fingers through her blonde hair. It seems to calm her somewhat. Both your ministrations and the warmth.

You and Alcina share a look of pure worry.

“I failed. Mother, I failed.” Bela practically sobs without facing the woman and your heart shatters into pieces. You’ve never seen her like this.

“Bela—” she tries to say, while Cassandra remains there like a statue, unable to process the scene.

“He shot the windows and now he knows.” Bela pulls slightly away from you to say. “That stupid man-thing has got Daniela!”

“I’m going. I’ll rip out his intestines and feed them to him.” Cassandra growls and it’s a dark, ominous sound.

Alcina grabs her arm before she can swarm off. “No. I won’t risk another one of you. I will deal with that vermin.” she says through clenched teeth. You can see the effort she puts into keeping her voice steady.

You want to reach for her, to comfort her, but Bela is in a worst state, battling her body’s reaction to the cold and her self-loathing for her failure, so you stay put.

“Stay with Eliza. Do not let him anywhere near her. I will get Daniela.” she orders her daughters, leaving them as your guards.

Cassandra walks over to you and takes your hand in hers, lacing your fingers together. With her free one, she rubs Bela’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’ve wanted to kill Daniela several times over the last century so I can safely say it just doesn’t work.” even as she tries to lighten the mood, though, you can see how tempted she is to disobey Alcina and go after Winters. Her grip keeps clenching and unclenching. “He won’t come near you, darling.” she promises you.

But then… the thought strikes you. What if you go near him?

-

-

After you put Bela to sleep, you tell Cassandra to wait a while with her and that you’ll be back.

You will be back. Just not without Daniela.

The more you think about it, the more sense it makes for you to go. You are only human, yes, but that is precisely what can give you an edge in this. You do not have a fatal weakness to the cold. You move much faster than Alcina.

And although you’ve tried hard to grow beyond your past, you always knew you were no better than what it made you.

You’ve killed dozens who had done nothing to you during your time in the military’s special forces. Why would you not plant a bullet in the head of someone who dared to harm your new family?

Duke recognizes the look in your eye when you ask to see his collection of rifles. You pick one to your liking and test its weight in your grip. So much for promising never to touch a gun again.

You run through corridors and rooms before you hear his voice.

“Shut up, witch! I’m getting Rose back!” he shouts at Daniela, coped up in the library where there’s only one entrance. You press against the wall and carefully peek through. She gives a weak giggle, chained in front of an open window as she is.

God, she must be suffering.

Still, her eye rapidly flits to you. You motion for her to drop down. And then-

You turn into the room, rifle blazing, the first bullets driven into his head and the rest of the clip emptied in his torso. Blood splatters everywhere with every pull of the trigger and for the first time in your life you do feel something as you kill another person. Pure satisfaction.

You leap over the crimson pool that is swelling around Winters’ corpse to free Daniela, who is laughing even though she’s basically an icicle, at this point.

When you pull her away from the cold she collapses into you, much like Bela did, only she can’t move her limbs enough to cling to you.

“Daniela?!!” You hear Alcina’s voice wrecked with anguish. “I will slice you to bits, you filthy man-thing!” she nearly screams as she approaches the library.

“Go wild, dear. He won’t put up much of a fight.” you reply, a brief smirk curling your lip. Daniela burrows deeper into your warmth with a faint laugh. Alcina is equal parts confused and fuming when she ducks under the doorway—

And sees the body of Ethan Winters laying in a pool of his own blood. Her claws detract. She stalks over to his corpse…

Then crushes his head under her heel.

You wince at the gut-churning, crunching sound, holding Daniela tighter, but part of you is deeply relieved it’s finally over despite the brutality. Can’t take any chances.

You almost lost them. You lower your head to Daniela’s neck as silent tears start to flow from your eyes.

“Baby, I’m.. fine…” the redhead croaks out, nudging you with her head.

Alcina kneels down beside you, more exhausted than you’ve ever seen her. She gathers you both into a hug, resting her head on top of yours. You stay there a long time.

“My beautiful girl. My love.” she whispers to Daniela and you. She’s too proud to say most of the things she wants, but you can see them in her expression and the tightness of her throat regardless.

“…I’m hungry.” Daniela complains once feeling returns to her frozen form.

“When are you not?” you tease.

“We’d have that man’s flesh for dinner… but I would never feed my daughters something so disgusting.” Alcina says.

She picks Daniela up in her arms like a baby and you do not look at the bloody mess behind you.

-

-

After dinner, the Dimitrescus and you are all sitting in a couch in front of the fireplace, making light conversation and basking in each other’s presence.

Alcina is delicately sipping wine while you’re leaned against her, with Daniela practically in your lap. Cassandra is beside her and none too happy to not touch as much of you, though she is keeping your hand on her thigh possessively. Bela is curled like a cat at your legs, her cheek on your knee.

“Can you not hog her like you’re here by yourself?” Cassandra growls at Daniela, who doesn’t even think to budge.

“I’m the one who almost died. Piss off.” Daniela’s lips brush against your neck as she speaks.

“Daughters.” Alcina chastises.

“How long are you going to play the ‘I almost died’ card for?” Cassandra asks irritably.

“As long as it works~” Daniela kisses your jawline several times.

“Bela, are you still sulking?” Cassandra nudges her with her foot.

“Leave me alone...” the eldest sister huffs.

And the answer to that is a resounding yes.

You know it will take time to be completely over this. You know right now they all need you, in different ways.

Bela has to climb out of the self-blaming pit she’s dug herself in –she always is too rough on herself—and your touch grounds her.

Cassandra wants you to please her hard and long in bed to blow off the steam of the past day or she won’t be able to rest at all.

Daniela won’t show it but she was petrified and she’s still scared. She needs your attention, needs you to drown her in kisses, until it all goes away.

Alcina almost lost her girls to that man. She hasn’t recovered from the shock but you can see the bone-deep gratitude and the sheer love in her eyes whenever they lock with yours. Her girls will get you first, but when it’s her time with you…

Well.

She’ll thank you in so many ways.

.

Ko-Fi

[troubatrain]

good for you - t. jost

a/n: one day it dawned at me that tyson jost really had just been hitting different lately, and so i just needed to write some filth about it. i'm thinking of making this a smut based mini series so let me know what you guys think :)

part two

warnings: it's smush time (smut)

I can’t believe you’re leaving me like this.

Mat Barzal was pouting, laying across your bedroom in your apartment whining about how you were heading off to Colorado and leaving him. It wasn’t by choice, you’d gotten into a grad program that was an amazing opportunity, separating you and your childhood best friend for the first time in ages. Mat was your friend by accident, a kid was picking on him and you got mad because only you’re allowed to do that and punched that kid square in the nose. Mat covered for you so you wouldn’t get suspended and you’d been inseparable ever since.

“This place is going to be too quiet without you,” Mat whines, dodging the book you’d thrown in his direction, “And not that I keep you to clean up after me but I do need you to teach me how to use the dishwasher.”

“How about you help me pack then?” You suggest, rolling your eyes at his inability to take care of himself. He’d always been like that, his own mother relieved when you moved in because it eased her worries about Mat burning his place down.

“You should give Tyson a call,” Mat hops up, grabbing a box and some stuff off your shelf, “Sure he’d be able to show you around.”

“Tyson Jost?” You furrow your brows, trying to clarify exactly who Mat was talking about. There wasn’t anything wrong with Tyson, that was the problem. Tyson was like sunshine in the summer and in another life, he’d be your dream man. He was kind and the way he talked about his mother made every one of your girlfriends swoon. Tyson had the kind of drive you respected and he just seemed so steady, “I thought we agreed I’d break him.”

“You agreed with yourself on that one not me,” Mat chuckles, shaking his head at your response. Mat couldn’t think of any one of his friends that he’d let date you besides Tyson. Tyson was an astronomically better person than Mat was, always the kind of kid his parents encouraged him to hang out with, “What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot?”

“I’m not sleeping with Tyson, he’s too innocent,” It wasn’t an excuse, it was the truth. Everything about Tyson screamed that he’d get you off but it wouldn’t be all that exciting. Tyson was a relationship type, and you weren’t and aside from the obvious sexual incompatibility - he was Mat’s friend. Despite his efforts, you always swore that was a line you’d never cross. Besides, as kind and endearing as Tyson was, he was still a hockey player, he just got away with it better than most.

“Just promise me you’ll call him? Especially if something’s wrong,” Mat pleads, a soft expression on his face even if it was just for a second before you had a t-shirt tossed in your direction, “You can’t let him replace me though, I’m number one around here.”

“I cannot wait to live alone,” You tease, laughing when Mat’s middle finger is thrown in your direction. It was bittersweet, leaving the comfort of having Mat around to buy you ice cream when you were sad and to take care of his best friend duties and onto a new adventure.

“You won’t be alone Josty will be there,” Mat jokes, his laugh bouncing off the now barren walls of your bedroom, “I swear I’m done now.”

“You better be.”

“I give it two weeks before you fuck Josty though.”

***

Just swing by her place, please.

Mat was like a mother who just sent their first kid away for college, and he was panicking. So, yes, he was begging Tyson to just drop in on to make sure your move was going as smoothly as you made it sound on the phone. Tyson could have been doing anything else on a Friday night with no game, but he was getting closer and closer to giving in by the second.

Tyson could admit, he wanted to see you, and he was excited when Mat shared the news you were moving to Denver. He looked forward to seeing you in the summer, carefree and light and so far out of his league he’d never even try. You made Tyson fumble his words, and every time he saw you he would think with his dick and he couldn’t focus on anything else. Above all else, Tyson wanted you to know he was a phone call away, a promise he made to Mat that he’d be there if you needed anything that he was going to keep for his own selfish reasons.

So Tyson was off to your apartment, a bottle of wine in one hand and a case of Coors Light in the other. He lifted his hand to knock, taking a deep breath and just thinking to himself, don’t fuck this up.

You knew that familiar tuft of curls in your peephole anywhere, summers spent watching the way Tyson’s curls bounced against his forehead whenever he spoke. This had Mat written all over it, no doubt your best friend put Tyson up to his welcoming committee bit. You turn around, boxes piled everywhere with nothing set up in your place aside from your mattress in the middle of the floor and your tv in your living room. Unpacking had been a bit overwhelming, and you may have lied on the phone to Mat that you were doing just fine. You take one deep breath, holding your head up high and pretending like your place wasn’t a mess.

“Hi,” You smile, leaning against your doorframe and taking in the man in front of you. Did he get bigger? Maybe it’s the hair, it’s longer. No, the scruff. Whatever it was, your feet were glued to the floor because you were stunned by the fact that Tyson Jost had gotten hot.

“Welcome,” Tyson cheeses, holding up the beer and wine in his hands and shrugging his shoulders, “I hope it’s fine I stopped by, Mat called and-”

“Told you to come?” You finished his sentence, Tyson nodding at your question, “Well, I have no furniture because it won’t be here until tomorrow, but you’re more than welcome to come join in my sad empty apartment.”

“I’d love to,” Tyson chuckles, bumping his shoulder with yours when he walked into your place. It was definitely empty, Tyson wishing he’d known sooner you’d be without most of your stuff for another day so he could offer up his guest room. It didn’t matter to him, his mind focused more on the fact that you looked incredible, a too big Islanders shirt and a pair of shorts that were leaving little to the eye. You were digging through a box, a small aha leaving your mouth when you pulled out a mug, “Wine in a mug?”

“That’s how Mat used to pour me glasses when we first moved in together,” You admit, gripping the mug in your hand tightly. You may have stolen it from your former kitchen, but it was a memory you wanted to remember, “You can sit, I mean the only place is on my mattress but-”

“Sounds like a tradition then,” Tyson hums, sitting down and leaning against your pillows, taking a sip of his beer. You sat cross legged next to him, pouring yourself some of the wine he’d brought over in that silly I <3 New York mug Mat bought for your first place. You settled on a movie, thankful you at least had wi-fi and didn’t have to make awkward conversation with Tyson.

It’s only awkward because you’re making it awkward, you thought to yourself. Maybe Tyson was doing it on purpose, peacocking around your apartment because Mat told him he had this weird thing about you sleeping with him. He wouldn’t do that, remembering every other time Tyson’s ignored one of Mat’s grand schemes because they were bad ideas, “Excited for the season to start? A few more weeks right?”

“I’m excited for camp to be over,” Tyson groans, snuggling himself into

your mattress, “My entire body’s on fire.”

Yeah mine too. You watched the way Tyson rolled his shoulders, clear pain across his face, “Ty’s let me-”

You were usually bold, confident enough to make the first move without the fear of rejection. It could be from years of watching Mat, a true master at his craft of picking up women, and constantly encouraging you to do the same. That’s how a player plays the game Y/N. Tyson’s brows were raised at you, a blush on his neck while he let himself sit a bit. You slipped your fingers under the soft cotton of his t-shirt, digging them into the knots in his shoulder. Tyson let his eyes rest, embracing the relief you were giving him.

Of course your fingers felt like magic. Tyson was doing everything in his power to keep his cool, and not blow this one chance he’s had with you without Mat’s stupid antics in the middle of it. Just ask her out, she’ll probably reject you, but at least you’ll get laid. Mat was right, he had to be because he knew you better than anyone. It wasn’t just some claim he made either, you didn’t do relationships, never giving your heart to someone else, “How are you good at this?”

“Tito used to tell me I had a career in deep tissue massages in my future,” You joke, Tyson’s head falling back to look at you while he let out a laugh, “Sometimes I think he just wanted to save a trip to the rink…do you mind if I-?”

You were tugging at Tyson’s shirt, waiting for him to nod in response and grab it from the back and toss it off. You never took the time to look at Tyson like this, eyes scanning over his skin and taking him in. Scars on his skin, no doubt from his choice in sport and one from that time Mat took roughhousing too far over the summer. Your finger curled around a loose curl at the base of his neck, Tyson letting out a hum, “I like the curls grown out Tys.”

“Keep pulling on them,” Tyson grunts, the words falling through his lips before he could stop them. You let out a small giggle, Tyson thanking his lucky stars you didn’t just hit him. He turned around, a glimmer in his eyes that you’d seen dozens of times before. Your hand stayed in his hair, gripping his hair softly when Tyson’s lips finally landed on yours. It was slow at first, testing out the waters and Tyson waiting for the blow of rejection. His hand was on your waist, hand slipping under your shirt and rubbing your skin softly. His lips moved down your neck, scruff tickling your skin, “Been wanting this for a while…”

“Yeah?” You muse, tilting your head back while Tyson’s teeth sunk into them. His grip got tighter, your breath hitching in your throat.

“If you don’t count the years I spent wondering what the fuck you and Mat were, then every summer for the past four years,” Tyson’s eyes had gotten a shade darker, flipping you over so you were underneath him, “Don’t act like you don’t know you’re hot, or that I’ve been mentally undressing you for years.”

“Now’s your chance Tys, don’t blow it,” You chirp, waiting for Tyson’s laugh to follow, except it didn’t. Tyson’s hands pulled yours over your head, grip tight on your wrists. What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot. Mat’s words were spinning your head, taunting you because there was a chance he was actually right.

“Don’t move them,” Tyson grits, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands pulled your shirt off slowly, stifling a groan when his suspicions about your lack of bra were true, “Be a good girl-”

“Or what?” You smirk, wondering how many buttons you could press before Tyson just railed you. This was new, welcome, and maybe you shouldn’t have assumed Tyson was the boring type behind closed doors.

“Or I’ll fuck you until you’re begging to cum, but I still won’t let you,” Tyson mutters, his lips pressed against your skin while his fingers hooked under your shorts, “So are you going to be good for me?”

Tyson waited for your answer, gaining himself a plus one in your book on consent and when you nodded, your shorts and panties came clean off. Tyson hooked your thighs over his shoulders and pressed a kiss to your clit lightly, “Don’t tease Tys.”

“Am I the first person who gets you like this?” Tyson groans, watching the way your hips were squirming every light kiss he pressed around your pussy. You were an alpha female, Mat’s words, never Tyson’s, and that meant that under most circumstances you were in charge.

“Yes,” You whimper, desperate for some sort of relief. Tyson had you wound up, in a position you were used to being in and you were eating up every bit of it. He finally gave in, Tyson’s well skilled tongue swirling around your clit, pulling a moan out of you that echoed through your empty apartment. You clasped your hands together, taking every bit of strength you had not to tug on Tyson’s curls, “Fuck, Tyson let me touch you.”

“Not what we agreed to, princess,” Tyson reminds you, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit. His tongue slid up your folds, Tyson climbing back up your body and letting his spit slide down his tongue and into your mouth, “Taste yourself babe.”

You nod, obliging happily with Tyson, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head at how fucking hot this was. His lips landed on yours, reminding you just how good you were being against your mouth. Tyson’s hand grabbed one of yours, intertwining your fingers with his, “Tyson, please I wanna cum so badly.”

“Where?” Tyson hums, sucking at your skin, undoubtedly leaving you a little gift to cover up for your first day of class.

“On your cock,” You bat your eyelashes, playing into Tyson’s game because you needed some release, “All over it, please-”

Tyson kicked off his boxers, taking his own cock in his hand and pumping it a few times. He tapped your clit the head, smirking when you moaned underneath him. This was better than he imagined, all of those unwanted dirty dreams about you that seemed to be more frequent over the summer. You let your free hand move, Tyson’s head thrown back when you lined his dick up your core, guiding him inside of you, “God, you feel so fucking good.”

Tyson dropped your hand, both of his large hands gripped your hips tightly while he slammed into you. Your legs with shaking from pleasure, “Fuck, right there, please I’m so close-”

Tyson wrapped one of your legs around his waist, hitting you deeper. His arms were on both sides of your head, his lips pressed up against your ears when he spoke, “Cum for me princess.”

Tyson’s deep groans sent you over the edge, your pussy fluttering around his cock while he fucked you through your orgasm. His lips parted, hips sputtering when he pulled out and came all over your stomach with a loud fuck. You both fell silent, the realization that you broke your own rule about Mat’s stupid friends washing over you. It wasn’t regret, it was something you couldn’t quite explain. Tyson finally fell next to you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, letting his light kisses trail down your shoulder, “Let me get the shower ready for you.”

You nod, letting your eyes follow Tyson’s ass as he wandered through your place in search of your bathroom. An aftercare king too? Maybe you were biting off more than even you could chew with this one. You grab your phone, rolling your eyes at Mat’s unanswered texts complaining that you’d already replaced him with Tyson. Your fingers dance across the screen, typing up the text you’d been meaning to send since Tyson was at your front door.

You could’ve warned me Tyson got hot, you know?

You didn’t even last two weeks did you?

[cc-mr-vip]

Season 4 - Initial Thoughts & Review

- ℂ𝔸𝕄ℙ ℂℝ𝔼𝕋𝔸ℂ𝔼𝕆𝕌𝕊 𝕊ℙ𝕆𝕀𝕃𝔼ℝ𝕊 𝔸ℍ𝔼𝔸𝔻-

I have to say, I’m pretty disappointed by this season, for many reasons. While it’s not an absolute disaster, I felt aspects of what made the show interesting was cheapened thanks to decision’s they made. This is personally my least favorite of all the seasons.

As you could probably tell by the name of this blog, I’m a huge Kenji fan. And the biggest part I enjoyed about Kenji was his big brother instincts. I had originally perceived that his greatest flaw was his innate fear of being alone, which made him act out and cope.

The surprise romance with Brooklynn...personally for me, it felt like it really cheapened the character arc that I thought he was having. I don’t know everyone else, but last season, I had perceived the reason why he was so angry at Darius was because he valued everyone’s safety over Darius’ ‘We gotta do the right thing for the dinos!’, which I thought was a very interesting conflict. In fact, that’s what was inferred in the first episode. 

But a few episodes later, the reason was suddenly changed to ‘Oh, I was only angry at you because I like Brooklynn’? I felt that completely erased what was interesting about his character, that he was a jock who had insecurities about being alone and just wanted friends. I found myself cringing during every single ‘romance’ scene and I can’t say that I’m very fond of Kenji’s character now. Seems like he was just ‘after the girl’ the whole time :/

Also the quality of this season was...all over the place? I don’t know if anyone else noticed, but there were so many moments where I noticed they used the wrong model for some of the shots. In the first episode alone, my friends and I noticed characters switching from their ‘clean’ model and her ‘dirty’ models. In an important scene with Darius, Kenji swapped to his Season 1 model and then back to his current model.  I didn’t see this happen in the previous season, so what happened this time? The quality control just went...way down...?

I’m honestly glad that I have other shows I’m watching at the moment and don’t particularly care about Camp Cretaceous as much as I used to.

Despite all things I dislike about this season, I will have to say that Yasmina got some great arcs this season. She’s obviously suffering from PTSD and it’s portrayed in an incredibly realistic way, a bit too real for me honestly, but it was great and realistic. I also like how they tackle that even though she’s better after talking it out, that it just doesn’t magically make things better. It’s a step-by-step process and this character moment is probably the highlight of this season for me.

As for other minor things, they succeeded in making Kash the most unlikable character in existence. If he doesn’t die by next season I’ll jump in there and do it myself. I like Mae’s character, she’s fun and I’m glad she’s looking out for the kids. I like Ben and Firecracker’s friendship, it’s really cute. I feel so sorry for Bumpy, who obviously misses him. Is Darius’ bro gonna do something? 

I will say, the ending hook is rather interesting. Kenji’s dad being the leader of Mantah Corp is an interesting dynamic and I’m curious to see how they run with it. But I am disappointed of what became of Kenji, I may make this a Yasmina blog instead lol. Can’t say I’m terribly excited for the next season.

I feel like Camp Cretaceous has really gone on longer than it should. The series should have ended with Season 3 with them getting off the island, it would have been a better ending. Personally, Season 1 still ranks the best season, for being the most realistic and grounded in reality. Now it’s just your typical kid’s show narrative with secret plots and Sci-Fi robots. Tbh, I’m fine with it all, though I kinda miss the realism of Season 1.

[powdermelonkeg]

Secrets in the Breeze

"What do you think it is?"

Several sets of eyes fell on the tablet Hyrule had unearthed, pondering its use. Legend studied the pattern critically. "Hmm..." He reached down and wiped away some dirt. "...It looks like song magic."

"Those aren't notes I recognize..." Sky said with a frown. “Are you sure?”

“No. But that’s my best guess until I can study it better.”

Hyrule reached for his recorder. “Well, we can find out pretty quickly, right?”

Time held out a hand to stop him. He gave the strange tablet a thoughtful look. "...Everyone, stand back."

The other four in the hunting party quickly gave him distance as he pulled out his indigo ocarina. The marks looked a little different, but...Drawing in a breath, he lifted the instrument to his lips.

The other heroes watched in anticipation.

...Silence.

Time frowned, glancing around the area. “...Did anyone notice anything happening?”

“I don’t think so.” Wild paused, peering at the sky outside the cavern. “Not unless you have a song for causing rain.”

“I do. This isn’t it.”

“Wait, really?”

Time offered a small smile. “A conversation for another time. Let’s get back before the others decide to come looking for us.”

“Do you think they decided to cook something themselves?” Hyrule asked, grabbing his game bag.

Sky scrunched up his nose. “Goddess, I hope not. I can still taste that...reekfish thing.”

Wild raised his hand. “I liked it.”

“You eat rocks. You don’t get to judge what tastes good.”

As the others went ahead, Legend glanced back at the strange tablet. After a moment’s consideration, he wrenched it free of the earth and tucked it under his arm.

It needed to be studied further.

“There you are!” Warriors exclaimed, halfway through putting up the oil tarp for the rain. “We were just about to get a search party ready.”

“He means he was about to go running off after you,” Twilight said, giving his well-polished counterpart a side-eye, then shook his head. “Anyways, we’re all hungry. What took you?”

Hyrule rubbed the back of his head. “Secret cave.” He gave a nod to Wild. “He spotted some fragile rocks and wanted to blow them up.”

“Find anything?”

“Yeah, actually.” Legend held out the tablet. “Song magic script. Do any of you guys recognize this?”

Twi, Four, and Wars all frowned as they looked at the markings, but Wind lit up instantly. He threw his hand in the air. “I do!” he exclaimed. “That’s 4/4 time; it’s conductors notes!”

Time raised an eyebrow. “Conductor’s notes?”

“Uh-huh. It’s how song magic works on the Great Sea.” Wind tilted his head to the side. “Though, I don’t know this song. What is it?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that.” Legend said, sitting down by the fire. “Think you can play a tune for us?”

Wind’s eye’s shone, and he pulled out his silver baton, looking to Time for confirmation. “Can I?”

The older hero frowned, considering. “...Not this close to the fire. Or to bad weather. For all we know, it’s a Lyric of Lightning or something equally as dangerous.”

Wind’s shoulders slumped, and Four patted his back. “Cheer up,” he said. “You can still try it out tomorrow. Besides,” he flashed the younger hero a smile, “we should eat before it rains, right? I’m hungry, aren’t you?”

“...Yeah,” Wind relented. He gave one last wistful look at the tempo pattern.

Soon, he told himself. Soon, I’ll learn your secrets.

Rain pattered outside the heroes’ shelter, the soothing sound and calm scent of petrichor letting even the most troubled of them sleep undisturbed, for once.

Well...almost all of them.

Wind managed the 2 AM watch at the edge of camp, eyeing Legends tools and trying to coax himself out of the temptation to try the new song. It had been so long since he’d run into a tablet like that; the thrill of new abilities or hidden passages was a siren’s call to the young adventurer.

Up, down, up, right. It was so simple.

What could it do?

Wind found himself fantasizing about the possibilities. Maybe it calls birds, he thought. Or summons fairies, or lets you talk to rocks. He glanced up at the stormclouds. Or maybe the old man’s right and it’s a lightning song. How cool would that be?

He pictured it; calling down lightning like one of the mages of legend, with just a swish of the Wind Waker. He could take out entire monster camps in one fell swoop!

His eyes drifted back to the tablet by Legend’s bag.

...If it’s really a lightning song, then it won’t work if we wait for the storm to clear, Wind thought to himself, pulling out his baton.

He needed to try it out.

Just to test it. Time would understand, right?

Stealthily, he crept over and grabbed the stone, carefully pulling it over to his post at the tarp’s edge, and stood in front of it. The Wind Waker sparkled with magic intent.

The stone shimmered, triangle carvings lighting up; orange, yellow, orange, blue. Light bled through the cracks, and—

—it crumbled to dust.

Wind’s jaw dropped.

...Legend was going to kill him.

He shoved the Wind Waker back into his bag hastily, trying to keep calm. This is fine, right? If he doesn’t say anything, then nobody can blame him, and Legend could chalk it up to age! Relics break all the time!

...Except Time’s disapproving frown would crack Wind for sure. There was no evading that; it was almost as bad as when his grandma gave him the look of disappointment. He was doomed.

Ping!

Wind’s ears twitched, momentarily distracted from his crisis by the sound. A soft purple glow caught his eye.

Ping!

The Master Sword gave another call, the sliver of visible blade pulsing with lavender light among Sky’s things.

Wind stared at the sacred sword, uncertain. “...What is it?” he whispered.

Ping!

He reached out to take it, then hesitated.

Sky was going to kill him too.

...No. He couldn’t, right? The Master Sword was just as much Wind’s as anyone else here; besides, he’d just borrow it. Sky could have it back. He reached out for the blade.

Ping!

Four shifted in his sleep, and Wind froze, staring at the shorter hero. If the sword woke anyone up before he could fix the tablet situation, he was toast.

Ping!

Panicking, Wind snatched the sword up and ran outside, trying to silence it before it could make any more noise. He would deal with the consequences later, when the others woke up at a normal time. Once he was safely in the white noise of rainfall, Wind drew the blade. “Alright, what is it?” he demanded, holding it level with his eyes as if he could scold it. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Ping, ping, ping—

He frowned as it began to beep faster, lowering it. “Come on, I can’t deal with-”

Ping! Ping!

He paused, then lifted it up again.

Ping, ping, ping—

He lowered it.

Ping! Ping!

Back up.

Ping, ping, ping—

Wind tilted his head curiously. Experimentally, he spun in a slow circle.

Ping, ping, ping ping ping PINGPINGPING ping ping—

“Are you...trying to show me something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Watching it closely, he pointed the sword in the direction that caused the most noise and light.

Into the forest.

He glanced back at camp. If he stayed behind, they could all go after whatever this was together...after he got a scolding for breaking Legend’s stuff, and endangering the camp, and not listening to the old man...

Yeah, no. Forest it is.

Sky rolled over in his sleep, his dreams filled with endless skies and blue loftwings. Clouds rolled in over the picnic of pumpkin soup he was having with Zelda.

Fragrant, but suffocating clouds. He couldn’t breathe.

He bolted awake, fighting whatever was cutting off his air and defeating the tangled sailcloth in a heroic and not-at-all frantic wrestling match. His eyes fell on the white fabric as he caught his breath.

...He should stop wearing this thing to bed.

With a sigh, he unpinned it from his shoulders and went to wrap it around Fi. If he couldn’t have the comforts of home, at least she could. He reached for the blade—

—and grasped nothing but air.

With a frown, the hero fumbled for his tinderbox and lit a match, struggling a moment to make a spark in the damp storm air, then looked around for his trusty blade. The longer he searched, the more he could feel ice creep into his veins; he even rifled through the luggage of the usual borrowers of the Master Sword.

“Sky?”

His attention snapped over to the source of the voice. Time was looking at him with an eyebrow raised, bleary-eyed and confused. “What are you doing?”

Sky swallowed the panicked lump in his throat. “The Master Sword’s missing.”

Time sat up sharply, wide awake in an instant as adrenaline shot through him. He quickly did a headcount.

Eight. One short.

Kid-sized bootprints left the camp’s edge, pressed into the fresh mud in a perfect trail.

Wind ran through the woods, following wherever the sword led him. The faster he figured out what was going on, the faster he could get back. And if he found something, that would make things better, right? He’d even let Legend keep some of the treasure, as a peace offering.

The forest, though, seemed to have no end to it, stretching high above his head, with shadows reaching out from all directions. He remembered hearing about something like this from Hyrule—the Lost Woods, which spat you out the way you came from if you made a wrong turn in them. He’d never heard of such a thing on the Great Sea, but then again, the ocean wasn’t exactly known for its vast woodland.

Finally, he reached a clearing, the sword giving a continuous ringing noise to indicate that he’d hit his dowsing mark. And, standing in the middle of it, was a weathered stone wall, overgrown with vines. He could faintly see something scrawled behind the foliage.

Narrowing his eyes, Wind channeled all the magic power he could into the Master Sword’s spin attack.

“HYAH!”

“HYAH!”

The heroes stopped in their tracks at the noise. Hyrule sheltered his candle from the rain carefully. “Was that-”

“He’s here.” Time said, quickly breaking into a jog. “Come on, we can’t lose pace now. The Lost Woods can do awful things to you if you’re not careful.”

Wind shook his head, quickly getting rid of the stars in his vision. He’d forgotten how disorienting a Hurricane Spin could be.

It had done the job well, though. The vines were nothing but chopped salad now, and the carvings behind the stone were clear as day. Six conductor’s notes stared Wild in the face, begging to be played.

The hero’s fingers tingled; this felt like the start of an adventure, one that didn’t start with a kidnapping and cannonfire.

Drawing himself up, he pulled out his baton, and began to play the magic tune.

This one was different from the first. It felt...familiar, somehow. It wasn’t something he’d ever played before, and yet...

The music carried his thoughts away from him. He found himself conducting from his heart, like when he’d played with Medli and Makar, swept up in the energy the song game off. As he ran out of notes to orchestrate, he heard an earsplitting CRACK, and his eyes flew open.

The wall had crumbled to nothingness, like the tablet had. In its wake, however, a shining blueish pedestal sat, magic spiraling outwards from its center like a spring flower.

Ping!

Wind looked at the Master Sword, tucking the Wind Waker away. He smiled fondly. “Just like old times, huh?” Giving it a playful twirl, he walked over to the pedestal, holding the sword’s hilt in both hands. “I wonder what’s going to look like this time. Are you going to get more powerful?” His eyes shone, imagining the others’ faces at bringing an even stronger Master Sword back with him. Taking a deep breath, he stabbed the blade down into its newest resting place, confident that he could handle whatever boss or dungeon this unlocked.

“LINK!!!”

His head snapped up as the rest of the Chain rushed into the clearing, eyes wide. “Hey-” He tried to talk, but no sound came out; his mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and his head swam. Silver fog began to cloud his vision.

The last thing he was aware of before he felt himself fall was Time throwing his blade aside and running to catch him.

Then it all went white. The only noises he could hear were the whispers of watchers, and the chimes of tiny bells.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol.2 Kino [TRACK 1]

Original title:  当たり前の日常

Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 2 Kino [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Tomoaki Maeno

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 1: NORMAL EVERYDAY LIFE

*Pew pew pew*

“Ugh…!”

*Pew pew pew*

“Score! That makes a...20-hit combo!”

*Twinkle*

“Awesome! Victory is mine! ...Too bad for you~” 

You shrug. 

“Heeh~? What’s with that reaction? Did you go into this fully expecting to lose? Oh come on! If you think that way, you’ll never have a shot! And above all, it’s boring for me!” 

You apologize.

“If all crimes could be solved with a single ‘sorry’, the police would lose their purpose. God! I can’t believe you weren’t taking it seriously from the very beginning.”

You frown.

“Hmph. ‘It can’t be helped’, huh?”

Kino pins you down. 

*Thud* 

“What am I doing, you ask? This is your penalty game, obviously.” 

You admit defeat.

“Exactly. You did lose to me. Heh...Anyway, how should I punish you? What would you like? Blood-sucking after all? 

You shake your head.

“You don’t want any punishment, huh…? Unfortunately, that won’t do. After all, this is fun to me. Fufufu~”

You puff out your cheeks. 

“You love pleasure as well, don’t you? Don’t you like me because I can make you feel good with my fangs? In that case...I don’t see the problem? That being said…”

*Rustle* 

“Fufu...Pretty nice view I’ve got from on top. Let’s get this penalty game started...~”

*Rustle rustle*

“I’ll start off easy by...Mmh…”

*Smooch*

“Nice reaction. Makes me want to plunge my fangs right in.”

You wonder why he didn’t bite you just now. 

“Did you perhaps think I would just suck your blood now? That wouldn’t be a very good penalty game, would it?”

*Rustle*

“It doesn’t count as a punishment unless you dislike it. That’s why...Like this...I’ll simply press light kisses against your skin instead, okay?”

*Smooch*

You whimper.

“...Fufu~ It tickles, huh?”

You protest.

“Oh come on, behave. We still have to get to the good part after all…”

*Smooch*

*Rustle rustle*

...Uwah…!? Hey!! Why are you trying to run away!?”

Kino grabs hold of your wrist.

“No ‘buts’! ...God. I show you my kind side, and immediately I get this in return. I guess I have to regularly remind you of just how scary I can be, huh?”

*Rustle*

“ーー Like this!”

He suddenly bites you.

“Hahn...Mmh…”

*Gulp gulp*

“Nn…”

*Gulp*

“Hah...That hurt, didn’t it? Fufufu...Of course it did. I’m making it painful after all!”

You apologize for earlier.

“Heeh? What was that~? Can’t hear you...~?”

You mutter another ‘I’m sorry’.

“Hm? What are you apologizing for? You’ll have to be a little more specific. ...Mmh.”

*Gulp gulp*

You apologize for not taking the game seriously earlier.

“...Good. Perhaps I should forgive you, since you seem to realize your own mistakes. ...Mmh.”

*Smooch*

“...That was a reconciliation kiss, okay?”

You gaze at him.

“Hm? Is something wrong? Is there something on my face?”

You quickly avert your eyes and tell him it’s nothing.

“No point in trying to dodge the question now.”

*Rustle*

“Tell me. I promise I won’t get mad this time. ...Come on.”

You admit to wondering whether he truly cares for you.

“Hm? Oh. That’s it? ...Why would you have doubts about that anyway? Am I really that untrustworthy? Even though I’ve been very considerate of you, doing all sorts of things for your sake. Don’t you think you’re being a little cruel? Besides, the fact I’m giving you this much attention proves that I love you more than anything, don’t you think?”

You tilt your head to the side. 

“Exactly. I wouldn’t go out of my way to make time for someone I don’t care for. ...Mmh.”

*Smooch*

“ーー It’s true, I swear! God...Next time you spout such nonsense, I’m not letting you get away with it, understood? ...Whoops! It’s almost time for the event quest! I want to be able to focus, so I’m heading back to my room, okay?”

Kino gets up.

“Goodnight!”

He leaves the room.

*Thud* 

“Hm...To be honest...I don’t quite understand concepts such as ‘love’ and ‘hate’...I guess that’s why romance games aren’t my forte either.”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[otptings]

Puzzle Piece

♡Idol: Wong Yukhei

♡Requested: Yessss Hi, I ult Lucas and love your writing, could you write a story with praising kink? A little bit of fluff too, just very cute and sexy stuff! He’s treats y/n as a goddess! Thank you and keep going with your amazing stories!

♡Word Count: 3.1k+

♡Genre: Angst, Smut mixed with Fluff

♡Warning: gossip, insecurities, mentions of weight gain, semi public sex, marking, slight breeding kink, cream pie, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (2)

♡Synopsis: Stylists noonas aren't always correct, especially when it comes to Lucas' relationship.

♡A/n : this is the fourth way that I've written this one shot, sorry that it is so late I just couldn't figure out how I wanted to do it and kept messing around with various ideas. Those other ideas might make an appearance on my page later on. Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoyed it and if you did please like, reblog, or donate to my Ko-Fi in my bio, thank you so much for reading

Dating an idol is always an adventure, and after two years you’d think that you’d be used to everything that comes along with it. Having your picture taken while out and about, dates being interrupted by random schedules, fans recognizing one or both of you despite your masks and precautions, even being stalked by crazy saesangs. But there are still some things that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. Fans asking for a picture of you and Lucas together, the random fan edits that will get set to your dms about your relationship, or even some of the endless praise that fans give you.

Another thing you’ll never get used to is the random VIP tickets and backstage passes gifted to you courtesy of Lucas. Bypassing the normal concert security checkpoints and being led directly to your special front row seat where WayV’s security watches over you diligently. It always gives you an adrenaline rush being able to properly see Lucas in his element in person, not just over a monitor in a cozy backstage room to keep you safe. Along with Lucas being a gigantic flirt, constantly winking at you or making sure to look in your direction while singing specifically saucy lyrics. Backstage is a whole nother story.

Being allowed backstage at certain award shows always leaves you in awe. Seeing the workers rushing around and doing all of the little things that make the concert possible in the first place, seeing all of the idols along with the boys warming up and goofing around for their vlogs. It’s a sight that made you grateful that you were ever able to go to concerts. This was only made better because Lucas always made sure that you had a place backstage during award shows while he was preparing for his performances. Winking at you while he’s getting his makeup and hair done, flirting with you while putting on his mic pack and in-ears, pulling you into a quick kiss before he’s hoarded backstage, and you’re led either to your observation or the crowd. It’s one of the things you can never get used to, even now while walking towards your observation room, Taeyong waving at you while he walks past getting ready to watch the performance himself.

“I don’t know what Lucas sees in her.” Your steps faltered as you passed by the dressing room, hearing the voices of the stylist noonas. “She’s not even that pretty and is always draping herself all over Lucas.”

“It’s so embarrassing. She’s so annoying.” You unconsciously walked closer to the door, trying to hear more of the conversation, feeling slight embarrassment run through you.

“She’s only using him for his money and fame. Like what girlfriend always asks for free VIP tickets?”

“A golddigger.”

“Exactly. I just don't understand how sweet Lucas falls for it.” Peeking around the corner you saw the two stylists giggling from where they sat on the couch.

“I mean, I’m so much prettier than her. And I’m skinnier than her, Lucas should really be dating me.”

“Plus Lucas deserves someone good for him, good for his image. She’s only bringing it down.”

“Are you okay?” You jumped feeling someone grab your shoulder, accidentally hitting the door causing the two stylists to stand up abruptly. Turning around you saw that it was only WayV’s managers, surely coming to check on you since you’ve never made it to the room. When you glanced back the stylist noonas at least had the nerve to act embarrassed while cleaning up their supplies. Nodding your head you allowed him to lead you to the observation room, checking on you once more before leaving to go backstage.

You tried to watch the performance, focusing on Lucas as he rapped and danced but their words kept flowing through your head.

Were you always clinging on to him? Sure you held his hand a lot but that’s because he was actually the clingy one. What if he was only doing it because he thought that you wanted it? Always hugging you, and kissing you only because he felt obligated to do it? Were you just using him for money and fame? Sure having fans recognize the two of you and compliment your relationship was a fun side effect but that’s not the only reason you were in a relationship. All of the concert tickets were gifts, you never purposely asked for them. You also never declined them. You may not have been as skinny as female idols but that doesn’t mean that you're fat. Right? Lucas is the one always taking you out on dates or buying you dinner and constant snacks, what if you were gaining weight. What if you were getting fat?

Shaking your head you tried to forget all of the negative thoughts and focus on the concert, Lucas didn’t try so hard convincing your manager all those months ago to allow you to come to concerts just for you to not even pay attention. But they refused to leave, the negative thoughts swirling around your mind so aggressively that you hadn’t realized the performance was over until Lucas gently knocked on the door, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Babyyy.” Lucas’ face popped up in the opening, smiling happily at you despite the sweat dripping down his face. Weakly smiling at him you stood up reading to open your arms for him before the words of you being clingy echoed in your mind. “Did you like our performance?”

Nodding your head you gave him two thumbs up. If Lucas realized your awkwardness he didn’t let in on it, only opening the door fully and holding his hand out to you. “Are you hungry? I can find something for you to eat since we still have a couple more hours here.” Hastily shaking your head, you tried to make your smile bigger, hoping that it would distract Lucas from your strange behavior considering you never declined food.

“I’m fine Lucas, anyway don’t you need to get out of your performance clothes?” Lucas nodded his head before tossing his arm over your shoulder, leading you back towards the dressing room to put on the suit that he arrived in. Or so you thought.

Instead of taking you back to the dressing room the rest of WayV was occupying he led you into one of the single bathrooms, quickly pushing you inside and locking the door behind the both of you.

“Lucas? We don’t have time for a quickie. You need to change your clothes and meet up with the boys.” Lucas turned back around toward you, trying to resist the urge to place a kiss onto your pouty lips and get to the root of the problem.

“What’s wrong?” You opened your mouth to deny it but Lucas quickly cut you off, “Don’t tell me that it’s nothing because I know you better than that. You’re being really quiet, and not greeting me with a hug and kiss like you normally are.” Sighing you rubbed your hands up and down your arms, knowing that it was no use lying to Lucas.

“I feel like you could do better than me. Not someone who always takes your tickets and clings onto you. You'd be better off with another idol.” Staring at your feet you waited for the inevitable rejection that was to come, Lucas would realize all of the stylist noonas were correct and would leave you. Maybe he’d get with someone in Twice, they’re all gorgeous and skinny. Lucas’ hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him while fighting the urge to let out a laugh at your obscene statement.

“Do better? Why would I want to do better than the person who’s perfectly made for me?” The typical heat rising to your cheeks and urge to smile didn’t happen as usual, so focused on the negative words of the stylists. “What made you think like this? Actually, who made you think like this? The tickets to concerts are all gifts and I don’t even have to pay for them, I actually cling onto you more, and I like your affection anyway. It makes me feel special, and no one else is better for me than who. So once more, who could be better than my gorgeous baby in front of me?”

“The stylists.” You muttered, not wanting to ruin the sweet moment of Lucas always knowing the right things to say.

“Which stylists? They had no right to say any of that about you especially when it’s false.”

“Two of your stylists, the ones with the red and blonde hair.” Lucas nodded understandingly, a plan underway to make sure that they knew better than to speak about you like that.

“”Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Don’t you have to go back to the crowd soon?” Lucas only shrugged.

“I need to make sure you’re good first.” Timidly nodding your head a smile spread across Lucas’ face as he spun the two of you around and pressed you against the door. Lucas’ right hand cupped the back of your neck, keeping you in place while his lips pressed against your. His left hand slid underneath your dress, fingers toying with the lace that covered your thin panties, not wasting any time to get you aroused. You could feel the smirk on his lips when you nipped your bottom lip and sucked on it drawing out a loud moan from you. Lucas pulled away and you rolled your eyes, already knowing that teasing was going to follow.

“Can’t wait for everyone to hear all the pretty noises you make for me.”His lips reconnected with yours, this time easily parting allowing him access. Slipping his tongue into your mouth you moaned again at the taste of him, the sweet candy that he always eats before performances still coating his tongue. You’ve never been more grateful for the easy access that a dress gives you - besides when Lucas bent you over in one of the unoccupied dressing rooms during Resonance filming, a very awkward conversation ensued when Taeil accidentally walked past - when Lucas pulled your panties to the side and slid two fingers past your folds and leant down to your neck.

A fun fact that not many people don’t know is that Lucas is a great multi-tasker, and it shows in the way that his fingers skillfully worked over your clit as he sucked a bruise under your ear, much too high to be covered with the low neck of your dress. All you could do was run your fingers through his hair, biting back the whimper that wanted to come out of your throat. His fingers slipped past your folders, finally pushing in two fingers causing you to throw your head back against the door. Lucas could only lean back and admire you, the growing whimper that you were hiding finally bubbling past your lips, hickeys lining your neck showing off that you were only his.

“Do you really think I’d want anyone else? No one else is as sensitive as you, dripping all over my fingers.” Lucas’ voice paired with his fingers brushing over your g spot caused another loud moan to slip from your lips, if it wasn’t for the intense pleasure that Lucas was giving you, you might’ve had the nerve to be embarrassed over how wet you were. “You’re so perfect baby, just like this.”

“Please Xuxi.” You couldn’t help the desperation that bled into your voice, Lucas always knowing your body better than you did, knowing all of the little things that made you wet, and knowing the perfect way to use that knowledge to have you coming undone underneath of him. Even now as you looked at him, his stereotypical smirk on his face as he watched you beg him, a multiple of ‘please’ and ‘Xuxi’ leaving your mouth as his fingers continued to work on your g spot bringing your orgasm dangerously close.

“You can cum baby. But we’re still not done.” That’s all that you needed to hear before your orgasm hit you, a loud cry on your lips as his fingers continued to move, helping you ride out your orgasm until you were overstimulated and working towards another one.

“Xuxi.” Lucas couldn’t deny that he wanted to give you another orgasm on his fingers, especially as your thighs started to shake and your hands pulled his hair causing him to let out a groan, but as he felt his cock twitch he knew that he really just wanted to be inside of you. Plus, both of you did need to be out in the audience to hear the award results or else that would be just another scandal that he would have to deal with.

“What do you want, baby? Use your words, I’ll give you anything that you want.”

“Need you, please Xuxi, need you to fuck me.” Lucas cooed at you, loving just how needy you were.

“You know I can never say no to my baby girl.” You felt heat rush to your cheeks as his patronizing tone, but it soon left as he pulled his fingers from your cunt, placing them in his mouth and sucking your cum off of them. Letting out a loud exaggerated moan that caused you to weakly smack his arm.

“You’re annoying.” Lucas only smiled happily before pulling his pants, sighing from relief as his cock was finally free from the tight confine of his leather pants.

“You love it.” Gripping the back of your thighs Lucas lifted you up, causing you to squeal before wrapping your legs tightly around him. Leaning in and placing multiple pecks on your lip, a giggle leaving you as your arms slid around his neck.

“Maybe I do.” Lucas leaned back so that he could see you properly, your swollen lips parted slightly as you watched him, curious of his next move.

“You know that I love you. Right? It doesn’t matter what anyone else says about our relationship, you're perfect for me.” All of the attention from Lucas made you shy, a shocking feat after dating for two years, opting to place your head in the crook of his neck as you nodded. Lucas grabbed the base of his cock with one his free hands, lining it up with your entrance and bottoming out with one thrust. Your arms tightened around his neck and you couldn’t help the breathy moan that you let out at the feeling of his thick cock stretching your walls. Lucas was no better, squeezing your thighs tightly as he let out a low groan, the feeling of being properly inside of you with your warm walls tightening around him.

“Fuck, you’re always so tight.” Lucas slowly started to thrust inside you, a little awkward at first due to the angle but soon he had set a quick pace that had you pulling his hair harshly as his cock massaged your walls.

“You think anyone else could take me like this?” You let out a loud whine at his words, feeling the tile digging into your back from how hard he pressed you against it, his balls slapping against your ass with every brutal thrust. “No one else could take my cock as perfectly as you, fuck, no one else could even make me as hard as you.” Another loud moan as he changed the angle of his thrust, reaching deeper spots that were previously untouched by anyone else in your past, only proving his point of being made for him as his cock perfectly massaged over your a spot causing your eyes to roll back. “You’re made for my cock, and so pretty while taking it at all.” Lucas leaned back slightly, never stopping his brutal thrusts as one of his hands cupped your chin, sliding his thumb over your bottom lip, which you happily accepted and sucked on, swirling your tongue around causing Lucas to let out another loud groan.

“My pretty girl, I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world.” Lucas’ sweet words greatly contrasted his brutal pace that had you steadily clenching around his cock, rapidly bringing you to your second orgasm at a pace that you couldn’t even warn him before it was washing you, you release coating his thighs as you let out a muffled moan around his thumb.

“Gorgeous.” Lucas took his thumb from your mouth, increasing his pace as you cried out from the overstimulation. “So close baby.” Lucas barely got his words out before he was twitching inside of you, loud groan leaving his mouth as his warm cum spurted into your tired cunt, leaking out as he continued to fuck it deeper into you, riding out both of your orgasms.

His hands slid from your thighs up to your waist, wrapping his arms around you tightly while nuzzling your neck. Both of you enjoying the comfortable silence, a moment of calm before you will be forced back out to deal with the chaos that comes with an award show. Lucas gently set you down on your shaky legs, trying to hide his laugh as you gripped the wall for support.

“This is your fucking fault. Now I’m going to walk around with cum in my panties.” Lucas only shrugged while pulling wiping your cum off of his cock, tossing away the napkin before pulling his pants up that were surprisingly not noticeably soiled.

“Nuh uh. I had to make sure my gorgeous girlfriend knew that I wanted no one else but her. Now you know there’s no one else that I would risk getting pregnant except for you.” Scoffing you tried to hit Lucas, only for him to catch your hand and pull you closer to him, his typical love sick look fading into something more serious.

“You are the only one that I want, you’re my other half, my missing puzzle piece. I don’t care what anyone else says, you are the only person for me. Okay?” Nodding your head you muttered a quiet okay, Lucas placed a quick kiss on your neck before turning you around. “And look just how pretty you are all marked up.” All embarrassment that was hidden while y’all where having sex showcased itself in that moment, your ears and cheeks heating up as you looked at yourself. Hickeys lined your neck, weirdly resembling an L in a way that you had no hopes of trying to cover it with anything more than a gigantic hood over your head. There was no way you could walk out of the bathroom like this.

“Now all the stylists know you’re mine.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

My Superhero

MAIN MASTERLIST

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Summary: You and Steve’s relationship is fairly new, so you haven’t told him everything yet.

Notes: I did a Tony Stark one about chronic illness called Invisible Pain. I wanted to do a Steve Rogers one as well.

Feeling completely well on any given day was a luxury. It never really mattered what medicine, diet, or amount of essential oil you put on, your joints hurt. End of story. Of course, it wasn’t completely random. You had Rheumatoid Arthritis, so there was a reason for it. You just sometimes wished that your arthritis was located in specific joints instead of all of them.

You were currently in your apartment getting ready for your fifth date with none other than Captain America’s, Steve Rogers. He was suppose to pick you up in a little more than an hour and, yet, you still couldn’t get out of your pj’s to shower. Your shoulders were causing you excruciating pain. Trying to take your shirt off was bringing you to tears, each try more unsuccessful than the next. 

You were at a loss of what to do. You had yet to inform Steve about your chronic illness due to past experiences. Every other man you had dated, or tried to, quickly left you in the dust after finding out that you would forever be sick and that it would slowly get worse with age. So you had told yourself that you would tell Steve once you were official, even though there was still a chance of heartbreak even then. You just wanted to enjoy this while it lasted.

Steve was so sweet, kind, and gentle towards you. You two had met after he accidentally walked into you about two months ago on the side walk. This was only your five date in that span of time due to the missions he was constantly being called on. Though, the two of you texted or talked on the phone whenever you could.

You were currently sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at the typed up message just waiting to be sent. At this point, canceling the date was your only option. You couldn’t change and you had already maxed out on drugs for the night. You sighed, a tear strolling down your cheek, as you pressed sent.

You: Hey, Steve :) I’m so sorry to do this to you at such late of notice, but something’s come up and I won’t be able to make it today. Sorry :( Can we reschedule?

It didn’t take long for Steve to respond.

Steve: hey doll :) is everything okay? 

You: Yeah, I’m just not feeling the greatest. But I’ll be fine after some much needed rest. How does next Friday sound?

Steve: Next Friday sounds wonderful. But are you sure you’re okay? Do you need anything? I could come over and we could stay in for the night. Order food and watch one of the movies I’ve yet to catch up on.

This man was too good to you. Almost too perfect. But you were too scared. You didn’t want to lose him just yet. You were enjoying it too much to be hurt already.

You: I’ll be fine, Steve. I just need some rest. You should probably get some too. I’ll talk to you later.

He didn’t respond. You sighed, laying back on your bed, tensing at the pain in your joints. You closed your eyes, trying to will your pain away, to no avail. Apparently, you had slightly fallen asleep because when a few knocks sounded at your door, you jumped up. Immediately regretting it because of the pain that shot through your joints.

Confused, dazed, and in pain, you shuffled over to the door. You didn’t even bother checking the peep hole before opening the door. Your jaw practically dropped to the floor at the sight in front of you. There was Steve, standing there in sweatpants and sweat shirt, your favorite flowers in one hand and two boxes of pizza in the other.

“Steve?” You questioned quietly, willingly yourself to stay put instead of run away embarrassed. You knew you didn’t look your best. “What—what are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you,” he responded with a gentle smile. “Can’t have my best girl feeling unwell now, can I?”

“Steve,” you shook your head, “you really didn’t—“

“Of course I did. Now, are you going to let me in or do I have to let myself in?”

Biting your lip, you opened the door wider, letting him walk in. Steve went straight to the kitchen, setting the pizzas down on the counter. 

“Do you have a vase?” He asked, looking around. “For the flowers?”

“Under the sink,” you responded. “Um… I’m going to change.” You pointed over your shoulder, immediately regretting it and grimacing.

“Y/N, is something wrong?” His concerned eyes raked over you.

“No, nothings wrong. I just need to change. I-I haven’t gotten out of these all day.”

The look in his blue eyes told you all you needed to know, he didn’t believe you. You turned around as quickly as you could. You could feel his eyes following you as you disappeared into your room. You slowly pulled down your pj pants, holding in a cry as you did. Pulling up clean sweats was easier, thankfully. It was the new shirt, you knew would be the killer.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and tried to pull it over your head. Failing to conceal the whimpered cry that left your lips, you heard Steve’s quick footsteps stop at your door.

“Y/N?” He called outside the door. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you responded, clearly your throat. “I’m fi-fine.”

“Are you sure? Do… do you, uh, need help?”

“No! I’ll be right out.”

Steve didn’t move from his spot outside your bedroom door. In fact, he leaned in, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear you breathing deeply, like you were trying to calm down. Which concerned him. You had told him that you hadn’t been feeling well, but you looked like you were fine. So what was going on? He waited, keeping quiet at your door. 

Inside, you were still trying to get your shirt off. You were riding it up, but you couldn’t get it past your breasts. You let out a louder cry, finally breaking. Steve couldn’t wait any longer, he came in to see you in tears on your bed.

“Oh, doll,” he cooed, heart breaking at the sight of you. He rushed over and sat beside you on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m so sorry, St-steve,” you cried. “I didn’t want you to find out like this… honestly, I hoped you would never find out.”

“Find out about what?” 

He went to put an arm around you, to pull you into him. But when he put his hand on your shoulder, you winced and let out a small whine. His hand quickly was off your shoulder and the furrow between his brows increased.

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

“I… I… I’m sick.”

“Like, with the flu? Or… or worse?”

“I guess, you could say, something in between.” You looked at Steve to see him intently listening. “I… I have arthritis. Rheumatoid Arthritis. It’s where, well… my body is attacking its own tissue and joints. Even… even my internal organs. As I age, it will slowly get worse. Possible bone erosion and joint deformity… It’s painful, but I’ve been able to manage it. I still have good days and bad. Today… today’s—“

“A bad day. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because all the other guys I’ve dated have left me after finding out. I… I like what we have. And I don’t want to lose it. But… but I’ll understand if this is too much for you.” You looked down at the hands resting in your lap. “It is for everyone else.”

“Y/N… can you look at me, doll?” He carefully guided your head back up. “I am so extremely sorry that others have been so stupid. They obviously don’t know what they’re missing out on. And I guess that makes me lucky, cause now I get to know you and get to fall in love with you.”

“You’re… you’re falling in love with me?”

Steve nodded. “Yes. And I would like the opportunity to keep doing so, if you’ll have me?”

“Of course. Will you… will— you still want to date me?”

“The fact that you go through life every day, trying your hardest and pushing yourself, even though you don’t have to. That only makes me fall more in love with you.” He gently cupped your cheek. “You’re a real superhero.”

You giggled. “No, I’m just—“

“My superhero. You’re my superhero.” He pressed a short kiss to your lips. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for telling me. Please know that you don’t have to hide from me. I really don’t want you to. I want to help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Steve.” 

He gave you another kiss. “Now, how about we eat the probably cold pizza and watch anything you want?”

“I’d like that.”

I have Rheumatoid Arthritis, but I would like to remind people that everyone who has it suffers from it differently. This story is based off of my own personal pain and struggles. I go through most days pushing through the pain that is constantly there without most people realizing. And I know that I’m not the only one.

Remember, everyone is going through unseen challenges. Please be kind to everyone you interact with/come across. 

Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are always welcome!