#Lifting Rocks; Starters

[forcechoosen]

       “ Son ..... need a hand?” 

#Darth Vader; Starters #Lifting Rocks; Starters

[angelltheninth]

This is a Desk Job

Pairing: Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, teasing, a few uses of 'sir', job interview, innuendos, flirty!Jing Yuan

Word count: 0.5k

A/N: He has lions, birds, you name it, he is a Disney princess in my heart.

Being in Jing Yuan's office is scary enough, the general sitting opposite of you down is scary enough but his golden eyes scanning your application and then at you, smirking the whole time and making you squirm without saying a word.

"This is an impressive resume you've got miss. You are aware that this application would be for my personal assistant correct? I've had them before and none of them have been able to handle me." He handed you back the papers, his smirk widening when your hands touched.

His office seemed warm and inviting when you came in, bright colors, warmth seeping from the outside and inside, but now, that you were in front of the general you still felt trapped somehow, staring not at a man, but a lion.

"I assure you, general, I can handle any task you have to throw at me. As you saw, I have a flawless record. When I heard that I could work side by side with one of our most esteemed and regarded warriors I jumped at the opportunity, but don't mistake my eagerness for foolishness. If you plan on trying to intimidate me then-" Your words died in your throat as Jing Yuan was suddenly an inch away from you, his bright yellow yes shining, his toothy smile showing his slightly sharp teeth, his presence looming over you.

"Then... will you show me you have what it takes, little bunny?" His voice was dripping with confidence, his gaze making you squirm and your eyes look downward, taking in his hard features, his mouth, his pecks, his rock hard abs, his big, no huge, hands that you were sure could grab you, lift you up and put you- "I hate to be kept waiting."

Your eyes snapped back up, heat blooming in your cheeks, traveling down your neck and your chest, all the way down, coiling in that all too familiar fire in your lower stomach. "I will." You said, almost breathy and moaning. Jing Yuan smirked and leaned back just a little, like a lion ready to pounce on his prey. But he waited, "What ever task you have for me, sir."

Sir. It came out of your mouth so easily, you didn't even have to think about it. It sounded... right somehow.

"Good. I always reward obedience." He looked you up and down again, as if knowing some kind of secret. "For starters you can sort these papers by importance. There's a lot here that needs attending but as you know some matters are more urgent then others." He waived his hand towards a rather large stack of papers in the corner of the room.

"W-What?" Paperwork. He needed you for paperwork.

Jing Yuan leaned his cheek against his fist, relaxing into his seat, "You're my assistant, you need to prove you can do this much. You can take this much, can't you?"

"Y-Yes. Yes, sir, I can." You gathered yourself and walked over to the papers, careful not to drop them as you walked out of the office, to the table right at front.

"Good girl." You heard him say, and the papers went flying everywhere. This man, this general had the gal to laugh at you. What have you gotten yourself into?

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail headcanons #honkai star rail fluff #hsr headcanon #hsr imagine #hsr fluff #jing yuan imagine #jing yuan headcanons #jing yuan fluff #jing yuan x female reader #jing yuan

[charleslee-valentine]

Franklin Hardesty Enright and disability.

So Franklin is a wheelchair user, presumably a paraplegic full-time user. But his chair is not designed for independence. His is a folding frame, as we know because we see it folded up in the Sawyers’ kitchen.

Folding frames are known for being very low cost, so they’re some of the most common, such as in stores, hospitals, zoos, and amusement parks where they’re available to rent. However, an independent wheelchair user probably won’t be able to use one full time.

For starters, their shock absorption is awful. Every speed bump, crack, or blemish in the ground makes the entire frame rattle and bend. This can range from destabilizing and disorienting to downright painful for the user. In the case of being pushed by someone else using the handles on the back, the frame still shifts, and often deviates from a straight path, rocking and gliding side to side. These movements are so subtle, they’re usually only noticed by the individual in the chair.

Wheelchairs are also quite heavy to begin with, and folding frames are some of the heaviest. It takes a large amount of force to propel a folding wheelchair forward. Getting over doorframes can be a pretty extreme feat, let alone climbing stairs in one like Franklin did. His complaints in that moment were well goddamn earned considering I got stuck on a supposedly accessible door just the other day.

An independent wheelchair, known as a rigid frame chair, is designed to prevent these flaws. It will have better balance, so it can be tipped back onto its back wheels. Experienced users would likely be able to climb small porch stairs relatively painlessly (although still hard, just less excruciating.)

Rigid chairs also often do not have arm rests, allowing a larger range of motion and longer, easier strides in the chair. Distance traveled takes less effort and it the friction from manually propelling the wheels is reduced. When the friction is too high, users will get blisters and sores on their hands from even minutes of use. Other ways this can be avoided is tilted wheels and gloves. Franklin notably has neither of these, because tilted wheels come on rigid frames themselves, and it’s probably too damn hot to wear gloves, even the ones designed to be worn at all times.

Independent/rigid wheelchairs often look something like these examples:

Another precaution paraplegic wheelchair users often take for their safety and comfort is a wheelchair cushion. Nowadays, they can be scanned and fitted perfectly to a wheelchair user, but back in Franklin’s day, there were already cushions he could’ve gotten. For even a couple of dollars, just a little foam pad would’ve meant a world of difference to his body, but seeing as we would’ve noticed one when he tumbled down the hill, he doesn’t use one.

If you’re like me, you might’ve wondered why Franklin doesn’t have any of these things.

There’s actually virtually no reason.

Modern independent frames were already on the market in the 70s and being developed with additional features and reducing the weight around the time of tcm canon.

Here’s a photo from 1970 of various types of wheelchairs including independent frames:

Not only is his wheelchair behind the times, so is using wooden slats to enter the van. Lifts had existed since 1966!

To be specific, his wheelchair is a 1950s design.

This is his frame almost exactly, which was a 50s Everest and Jennings design that was still in production without any advancements or changes into the 70s.

So Franklin could hypothetically have a new wheelchair, but looking at the picture above, this wheelchair came with leg pads. Franklin’s doesn’t have those anymore.

Either he removed them or they were missing from his chair when he got it, and I see no reason why a man with paralyzed legs would remove support from his wheelchair. Franklin may have an older, second hand wheelchair.

At the very least, he almost definitely is using the wrong kind of frame for his needs, and with no additional technology to support him.

Still, all that being said, it’s important to remember that Franklin may *want* a folding frame wheelchair.

I myself am an ambulatory wheelchair user, with a pain disorder that makes it impossible to propel myself for more than a couple minutes at the most. I *need* someone to push me most of the time.

The question isn’t about why Franklin isn’t doing this or that or buying this, it’s about why isn’t anybody helping him.

Motorized chairs had existed commercially since the 50s, he could have one of those, except they were still very expensive and also extremely fragile. He may very well use one in normal situations, but he’s on a road trip, not navigating his safe home. Franklin is relying on somebody to help him, and they don’t :(

His frustration with Sally when she’s pushing his chair isn’t because he’s ungrateful, it’s because he’s not being listened to and hasn’t been all day. Given that trust to someone is hard, especially if the chair he’s using is temporary and he’s normally self propelling when he’s not rolling down hills in the woods at night.

Ableds will never understand the frustration of asking somebody to help you get around, only for them to get mad at you when you advise them they’re doing something wrong or unsafe with you. Imagine someone else controlling your legs and getting mad when you tell them which direction you’d like to go.

And in Franklins case, he can’t very well stand up and do it by himself. We might not know the specifics of his disability, but we do know he’s paralyzed.

Sure, he’s able to shift and turn and lean from the waist, but his legs and hips never move. Paul Partain was pretty dedicated to portraying Franklin and even when rolling down the hill or dragging himself up the steps doesn’t move his legs.

While it isn’t ever specified his exact condition, Franklin is dependent on his friends. But they let him down, and even bullied him for his emotions about that let down. And in the end, he’s the one that is killed for it, without even entering somebody else’s property willingly like the rest of them.

Franklin Hardesty deserves goddamn better. In universe, and in fandom spaces where he’s treated as deserving of his death for *daring* to complain about using already outdated disability tech that doesn’t meet his needs. Oh, and being called an offensive term from the 1920s and before in the opening of the film.

But let’s say “invalid” was a good word to use for him. That word usually means someone is not only disabled, but also sick or weak to the point of needing care and assistance. If Franklin is having this word used to describe him, it should at least be recognized that he’s not capable of dragging himself around in the middle of nowhere!! Like if they just absolutely have to call him that, the least they can do is even know what it means and not throw him to the damn dogs.

#franklin hardesty #sally hardesty #the texas chainsaw massacre #tcm 1974

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 10

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 8.9k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie and Jude make new discoveries on the island, and they have their date. Mentions of suicide.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 9

“AH FUCK!” Frankie yells loudly, and Jude turns, startled, in the water with her spear to see Frankie scramble up onto the rocks like a crab scurrying away from a would-be predator. 

“What happened?” She calls out to him, bewildered.

“Careful!” He holds his palm up and she stops dead in the water. “I just stepped on a fuckin’ urchin!” He lifts his foot up and black spines are poking out from the heel of his foot. 

“Shit,” she wades closer to him, looking into the water in the bay to make sure she doesn’t make contact with any urchins herself. “You okay?”

He’d been scouring the rock pools for anything edible whilst she fished, when he’d yelled out, and now he winces as he starts to pull the needles from his foot.

“Fuckin’ shit!” Frankie grunts through angry lips curled back over his teeth. “Vamos, cabrones!” (Come on you little bastards!)

“Let me do it,” Jude persuades, and he pushes his foot out to her and rests back on his elbows; his head thrown back and groaning with pain. 

She tries not to let her eyes wander over the leanness of his bronzed body as he stretches back, clad only in shorts and his cap. But her eyes betray her anyway and take in the wet sheen over his skin from the waist down.

Clearing her throat, Jude pulls a couple of spines out that she can grip with her fingers, but there’s a few that are embedded too deeply into his skin that she can’t pinch a solid grip onto. 

“I need the tweezers to get these out; you think you can make it back with me?”

“Yeah.” He puffs through gritted teeth.

“Lean on me for support; don’t walk on your heel, they’ll get embedded further into your skin and we’ll never get them out.” She advises.

Frankie nods as he slips off the rock, puts his arm around her shoulder and she leads him back to the shack slowly. His weight against her is heavy, but nothing she can’t manage, walking with him slowly as he hops beside her practically.

She smiles to herself at his unfortunate plight, despite the pain he’s in, she can’t help but find it somewhat amusing. 

“This isn’t funny, it fuckin’ kills.” Frankie says, trying not to smirk at her too.

“It’s a little funny.” Jude replies, holding onto him. His skin feels smooth against her arm, and this close the scent of brine and sweat fills her nose.

They’re hobbling through the wooded area that separates both sides of the island, when they hear a snapping noise.

They both freeze on the spot. 

“Did you hear that?” Frankie asks her, looking furtively and listening like a guard dog on high alert. They stay still for a moment, Frankie balancing on one leg like a flamingo. 

They hear more rustling and then a low pitched screech.

“What the hell is that?” Jude asks, astonished. They haven’t heard or seen any animals on the island since they crash landed, so the noise is somewhat disconcerting.

“Sounds like dinner,” Frankie says, smirking down at her. “We can check it out later.”

Jude nods smiling and continues to walk with him. Once inside the shack he throws himself down on the cushion bed, and she sets to work on removing the remaining urchin spines from his foot with the tweezers.

“Lucky we have these. Hold still.”

“Thank you, nurse” Frankie says, as he inspects his foot afterwards. It looks all bloody and sore with tiny pin prick holes dotted around in a cluster on his heel. 

“Lots of bed rest and fluids.” She remarks with a wink and he chuckles. 

Frankie watches with a relaxed smile as she wraps his foot carefully in a damp t-shirt to alleviate some of the heated throbbing. “Are you excited about our date tonight?” He asks her.

“Depends,” she replies coyly. 

“On what?” Frankie asks her with a curious smirk.

“On what you have in mind.”

“A gentleman never tells.” He makes the zipped lips motion with his fingers across his lips. 

“I hope you are a gentleman.” Jude remarks with a tight smirk. 

“Of course,” he confirms. “I won’t try anything funny, I promise.”

“Good, because I never fuck a guy on the first date,” she smiles through heated cheeks.

“Self-respect is hot.” Frankie grins. 

She smiles at him and pats the side of his calf. “Rest up; I’ll go back and get the fish.”

Wandering out of the shack, Jude thinks about their impending date night and wonders what it is exactly she expects from him and that he has planned. How gentlemanly will he be exactly? I hope he at least kisses me... The thought makes her hot.

It’s evidently something she’s thought about and considered regularly as of late. It’s not hard to notice how smiley and flirty they’ve gotten with one another. Frankie feels easy to talk to and she enjoys his company greatly.

And equally it’s something that excites her more and more; much like the thought of him watching her on the ridge as she got herself off, thinking about him doing the same in turn. It’s kinda hard not to, let’s face it; he’s utterly gorgeous. She can only wonder why they haven't given in to temptation yet and pounced on one another. Laying side by side on the cushion bed each night tests their resolve further.

But she knows he's being respectful, and she's thankful for that. She could've been left trapped on this island with a complete creepy letch instead of Frankie.

Jude ventures back to the bay to collect the fish, but when she approaches the tin she’s dismayed to find most of the fish they’d collected that morning are mysteriously gone. 

“What the fuck?”

Jude begins looking around and spots tiny footprints criss-crossing around in the sand. She scouts through the trees on the way back to the shack, trying to listen for that screeching noise again; the probable thief that has stolen their dinner, but is unable to track it or hear it.

She explains to Frankie what’s happened and he chuckles, standing up and limping a little towards her. 

“We can wait, you know, until it’s easier for you to walk.” Jude says, watching as he frowns each time he puts pressure on his foot.

“No way. I’m taking you on a date tonight. Besides, I wanna get that fucker who stole our food.” He retorts, reaching for a spear. “You in?”

“Try and stop me.” She replies, smiling at him with determination. 

“¡Esa es mi chica!” Frankie winks at her. (That’s my girl!)

It’s much cooler in the afternoon as they venture out slowly into the wooded area of the island. A reprieve from the scorching hot sun they’ve endured as of late. 

They use the spears to move and poke around in the wispy grasses and bushes of the underbrush, looking for any signs of life. More footprints, droppings... Any evidence of what it is that stole the fish and made that shrill shrieking noise.

A while later they hear it again. 

“Weird howling noises in the woods? That’s some straight up horror movie shit right there.” Frankie grits as they push further into the tree line. He limps still and is careful about putting weight on his heel.

“I can see your mangina.” Jude teases him and she hears him chuckle. 

There’s a low screech again off to the distance of them. She’s completely unfazed and carries on stepping over stones and reeds towards the sound.

“What do you think it is?” Frankie asks, curiously.

“Sounds like a strangled peacock.” She replies, laughing. 

“Maybe a small mammal; or a bird of some kind?” He suggests. “Hopefully something we can eat either way.”

“Well it’s either that or a zombie.” Jude states.

“Very funny, I fuckin’ hate zombies.” He says it like they’re real. 

“Who doesn’t like zombies? Come on.”

“They scared me when I was a kid.”

“For real?” Jude asks, smiling.

“Yeah. The first time I ever saw a zombie was when I was seven years-old, and my cousin made me stay up and watch Dawn of the Dead. I didn’t sleep for weeks and the slightest creak in my room would set me off. Él era un cabrón.” (He was a bastard.)

“You’re perfectly safe, they only eat brains.” She turns and pokes her tongue out at him and he can’t help but smirk at her. 

“You’re on real form today.” Frankie mocks. “And look, you’re in a white tank top too.” He says as he notices her top.

He can see the black bikini straps poking out around her shoulders and he drifts momentarily back to the image of her spear fishing in the bay with him this morning whilst he stole covert glances at her body all wet in it. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Your tank top; it’s white.” Frankie says to her, moving drooping vines and leaves out of his way as they walk through them. “The heroine in all good horror movies always wears a white tank top, you ever notice that?” He confirms to her.

“We're not in a horror movie.” She giggles. “Besides, so does Bruce Willis. Yippee Ki-Yay, motherfucker.” 

“You won’t be saying that when I’m dead with my entrails hanging out, and you’re fuckin' screaming and running for your life, unknowingly straight into the arms of a machete wielding maniac, after falling over a branch or two first, making the audience genuinely believe you actually have a chance to get away, and then… BAM!” 

Jude jumps when he over emphasises the bam part loudly by punching his own open palm.

“You’ve thought way too much about this.” Jude laughs and carries on.

“Remind me again why I’m risking my life for you?” Frankie says, very deadpan.

“Because I rock. And plus you need me, hop-a-long,” she pushes him gently, and he stumbles and falls backwards on his butt onto a grassy knoll. She can’t help but laugh loudly and unrestrained. 

"Oh my God!" She howls.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He laughs at her, astonished and in awe at how freely she’s snorting in between unguarded giggles.  

“I’m sorry,” she reaches her hand out to him and helps him back up, her body quaking with laughter and he can't help but to laugh too.

“Oh, my revenge is gonna be sweet, hermosa. Just you wait.” Frankie surmises to her with a side grin, his cheeks flashing a shade of embarrassment.

“Promises, promises...” Jude titters as they carry on. 

They hear the screeching noise again, only this time it seems louder and they stop, listening out. Frankie turns his head and Jude’s eyes scan the trees. 

The screech comes again and Frankie jumps a little “Shit,” he sighs out.

“I’ll never be able to count on you in a scary situation, will I?” She asks him, smirking.

“Hell no. I’ll offer you up as bait in exchange for my life any time.”

“Pussy.” Jude remarks and he looks down at her with a pink smirk breaking out his lips. She wonders instantly what those lips will feel like on her own. 

“Monkey.” Frankie says, looking at her. 

“Are you calling me a damn monkey?” She asks with a giggle, and feigning appal at his choice of friendly insult. “That’s not very creative.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Look...” He points just past her head and she turns. “Up there, in the tree - it’s a monkey.” Frankie whispers.

Her eyes scan as Frankie steps beside her and gazes up at the tree tops. There’s a little brown monkey sitting in the tree branches, almost entirely camouflage, and watching them back with wide yellow eyes. 

“He’s so small,” Jude says in wonderment. “Maybe a capuchin or something?”

Frankie shrugs. “I dunno.”

“He looks cute. I’m going to call him Egon.”

“Egon?” 

“Yep. He’s clearly a Ghostbuster, don’t you think?” Jude asks. “I reckon he has a Proton Pack hidden somewhere around here.”

They both snicker and watch as the small ape sits in the tree and screeches again as though he’s trying to communicate with them; trying to tell them that he enjoyed eating their fish. 

“I don’t think I can eat a monkey,” she puts to Frankie quietly, feeling a little sad.

“Me either, especially now that you’ve fuckin’ named him.” He laughs gently, rolling his eyes. He takes off his cap and runs his hand through his curled, oily locks. 

“How did he even get here?” She asks, watching the monkey as it pulls at a leaf on the tree. 

“Maybe it’s native?”

“No, there would be more of them, surely.”

“Who says there isn’t?” Frankie asks, shrugging. He plonks the cap back on his head and looks around.

“We would've heard them by now, right? I’m surprised he’s been quiet all this time.”

They watch Egon for a while, marvelling and trying to work out how the little creature ended up on the island with them. He watches them back, cocking his head this way and that.

They walk back towards the shack as dusk is falling over the island. 

“I wonder if he came here with the person who built the shack originally, like a pet or something?” Jude muses out loud as they walk, or rather Frankie hobbles. 

He nods at her detective ramblings, smiling as the darkness begins to fall around them.

When they reach the shack, Frankie holds the plastic open for her as she steps through it. He reaches for some clothes.

“Be back soon,” he smiles at her, lingering in the doorway for a moment. 

Whilst he’s gone, she flops down on the cushion bed tired and thinking about the monkey and then her mind drifts towards this evening.

She glances at the notebook on the case as she considers what their date will be like and can feel the tingle in her toes at the thought of it. She absentmindedly reaches for the notebook and takes the opportunity to have a curious look through it whilst Frankie freshens up.

She leafs through the pages gently at what he’s been writing. She’s sure he won’t mind; it’s not like he’s kept it hidden or has explicitly told her not to read it.

It seems at first like it’s just him making a note of the passing days. Little doodles litter in the corners of the pages, like stick men and vortexes where he’s scribbled the pen round and round whilst thinking, tossed on the paper like inky confetti. 

She flips a few pages in and there’s some rough sketches of the shack; schematics if you like, of how he’s going to build it, which makes her smile at his methodical planning. 

She continues turning the pages and stops when she gets to a paragraph he’s written and reads it slowly. It looks like a poem, maybe a haiku of some kind, but she soon realises it’s an admission:

... We’re probably going to die on this island. Both of us are going to die and I won’t be able to save her... I can’t watch her die. Not when she’s the one keeping me alive.

Jude wipes her eyes, shutting the notebook and instantly cursing herself for snooping. 

It’s evident that Frankie doesn’t have any hope at all for them anymore. He had tried convincing her for so long that they would be okay, lulling her into a false sense of security, telling her what she wanted to hear, when inside he truly believed that they wouldn’t make it.

Of course, the day he went catatonic after the boat fiasco, she knew he’d given up the ghost somewhat, but to know he still had no hope for them, even now with their routines, was a tough feat to accept. Unknowingly burdening her with the responsibility for his own life, it seems. 

But isn’t that what she’s done to him, too? She relies on him heavily to get her through, even if she never tells him or actively puts that pressure on him, or realises it herself at times. Just him being here with her is the most important thing to her survival; there’s no way she’d have made it this far without him - her life is literally in his giant hands, and evidently his is in hers too.

It’s a tough responsibility to place on someone, right?

Jude mulls it over as she sniffs in deep, desperate to keep the tears away, and understands his inner pain and turmoil because she’s spent so many nights lying beside him as he sleeps wondering, that if he wasn’t here with her - if he had died - that she would probably want to go with him. She won’t be able to cope on her own here. It’s draining being here and massively taking its toll. 

Maybe that seems melodramatic in a way; losing all hope after a mere few months on the island, I mean what’s two months? Pah. 

But think about it; every day they wake up with severe lack of sleep deprivation because the nightmares and belly cramps from being constantly hungry keep them awake. They drink water, but their thirst is never fully quenched. They eat the same fish every day. Maybe once a day; sometimes a few days pass by without eating them at all. And the fish soon starts to taste putrid; like they can’t even taste that’s its fish anymore. They soon start to loathe putting it in their mouth because why bother? They can’t even taste or enjoy the flavour anymore. They can no longer stomach it to swallow it down. 

They try their best to stay clean and healthy, but the sun scorches their epidermis every day doing unseen damage no doubt; the sea salt is a permanent perfume they carry on their skin and hair no matter how much they sweat or try to rinse it off. 

Their bare feet are cracked and dry from walking over the sand and rocks daily, the clothes they wear now aren’t even theirs and don’t fit properly. They don’t know who they belonged to, what stories they could tell them from the previous owners who are lying dead at the bottom of the ocean somewhere. They try to stay busy; to fish, to re-light the same damn fire over and over again. To collect water even when it doesn’t rain for days. 

They build a recycled shack for shelter, but it’s never really home. They consume so much energy every day to stay alive, yet they’re constantly exhausted, spent and on the verge of collapse. They don’t even know what it is exactly they’re living for anymore. They can’t remember their families’ faces. They wonder if they can remember theirs; that they existed once.

All this happens in a very short space of time; a couple of months pass by since they landed here, and they’re both already, figuratively, standing on the edge of the ridge, looking over it and wondering if today will be the day they find the courage to jump off and just end it all in a bloodied heap at the bottom. Just stop the suffering, the constant fighting to live a life that isn’t a life to live anymore. How can it be?

Secluded. Isolated.

Just Jude and Frankie, barely hanging on to anything, because there’s nothing to hang on to anymore. It’s like they’ve been cast out from the rest of the world for something terrible that they did, but the world won’t tell them what it is they’re being punished for.  

They talk together, they laugh together to pass the daunting stream of time suffocating them both. They put on a brave face masking their inner turmoil from one another, even though the other senses it. They crack jokes; Jude looks into his molten brown eyes daily, but inside them there’s nothing and she can see it as clear as the day as the emptiness is reflected in hers back at Frankie.

They’re both hollow husks of their former selves stranded here. Thrust together by some cruel, wicked fate and they can’t comprehend how or why it happened. Why the plane crashed, why they had to be on that fucking plane when it crashed; the series of events in their live that worked in some devious motion to put them here, to test them - to break them. They blame God, they blame kismet; Jude blames that no good bastard Nate.

Is God testing them right now? Have they passed or are they failing miserably and the reward is sweet, lustful death? Welcome oblivion? They’re so tired of this shit; just so fucking tired. When the Grim Reaper comes for them, they won’t resist, they’ll get up and take his skeletal hand willingly.

They’re wasting away, getting thinner; Jude’s hair is getting longer, all hair on her body in fact becomes unruly and un-groomed. Her legs are as hairy as Frankie’s some days. And she doesn’t even want to acknowledge the car crash between her legs. His face begins to disappear from the hair that grows on it and she wonders if she’ll forget his face too as he vanishes underneath it before her eyes.

She stops looking in the little cosmetic mirror because the face that’s looking back at her isn’t hers anymore. She buries the mirror in the sand one day, and a part of her forever gets buried with it. 

They’ve changed; this horrid landscape has changed them. It’s not an island paradise in the tropics; the brochure lied - it’s Hell that they’re living in, literal Hell. 

Every. Single. Day. Is. Fucking. Hell. 

And when she reads those words from the person residing in this Hell with her, Jude can’t help but feel united in a peaceful acceptance with him; because deep down she knows Frankie is right.

Even though she desperately needs him to tell her it’s not true; that it’s not all in vain. That they’re both going to make it like he used to reassure her, and then escape into the sunset together back in the real world.

But it’s all a damn lie. He’s only being honest with her, even if he never says it to her face anymore, but instead via words on crinkled paper he wrote when he had lost all hope; when he was deeply hurting and didn’t know what else to do or say to comfort himself, let alone Jude too. The truth hurts after all. Jude wants him to lie so badly to her. But he doesn’t - he can’t - because they both know it.

They are going to die on this island. Both of them.

And there’s fuck all she can do about it except roll over and wait for it to take them.

She stares at the notebook for a long time. For so long that Jude doesn’t hear him come back into the shack at first.

Frankie’s wearing a blue, floral patterned shirt - which he seems to favour over the others most - over a white t-shirt and some shorts. His facial hair seems longer, yet is sparse in some random patches, she notes. Almost as if it’s grown further in the time it's taken him to bathe and return, which is probably mere minutes, but after reading the notebook passage, feels like forever. 

He smiles at her, but his eyes regard her differently. It’s almost as if she can now see all the pain that he’s hidden so well from her.

“You okay?” Frankie asks her as he tosses his other clothes into the case they’ve allocated for their dirty laundry. 

Jude nods and gives him a bright smile that’s as sincere as she can muster. More lies fed to each other.

“I’ll go and get ready; won’t be long.” She picks up some clothes and makes her way out the shack and down to the shoreline, stopping at the cave mouth for toiletries.

She bathes and washes away the grime and sweat from the day, but it never really leaves her skin. It’ll be a stench that will be about her person always now it seems.

She looks up at the dark sky from inside the water to be met with a vacant, deep sapphire sky and for a while her thoughts are just as blank. Cut off and void. Just floating on the water's surface, naked under the moonlight and willing the current to take her out to sea and drown her. 

Once back on the shore, she puts on the sundress, the turquoise one with the sequins she has yet to wear, and sits on the sand and shaves her legs as best as she can with the blunt razor. She nicks her skin a few times, drawing blood as the razor is effectively useless now.

She inspects the razor blade; shimmering at her from under the light of the moon, and as she runs her thumb over the top of it feeling its jagged surface, she envisions running it across her wrists and just bleeding out here on the sand quietly. End it all, no worries; no more just surviving. 

But then she thinks of what Frankie had written: Not when she’s the one keeping me alive...

She drops the razor to the sand beside her and places her hands over her mouth, sobbing as quietly as she can. Cramming the chokes and sniffles back into her selfish body and willing herself to stop with the breakdown.

But she can’t, it rocks through her and renders her a lost and frightened mess. The weight of their predicament, the uncertainty of their future, and the longing for home crashes down upon her like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf her in unrelenting despair.

Each tear that streams down her cheeks carries with it a torrent of pent-up emotion, a silent plea for release from the suffocating grip of this life. She cries until her throat is raw, her nose stuffy and until her chest aches with the effort of holding back the pain. And so, as she lays there on the sand, her tears mingling with the saltwater of the ocean, Jude allows herself to surrender to the unfiltered emotion that consumes her, because she can’t do anything else.

She walks up the beach front towards the rocks and the fire after a few minutes of convincing herself she’ll be okay; sniffing in deeply over and over to rid any evidence of her tears.

The heat is felt on her blotchy face as she passes it. Inside the shack, Frankie is sitting on the cushion bed and looks up at her as she comes in.

She tosses her dirty clothes into the case and he stands up to greet her. 

“You look great,” he says to her, smiling approvingly and trying to keep his eyes inside his head. 

Jude looks down at the previously unworn sundress that’s a little big for her, and smiles at him. “Not too bad, huh?”

He shakes his head. “Not too bad at all.”

“So,” she puts to him as they stand in the centre of the shack, inches apart from one another, staring at each other.

It’s like they’ve both been given new eyes and can really see each other for the first time. See each other for who they really are under that brazen front presented; can see that each of them are a little worn and bruised on the inside.

His eyes fall on the sequins that swirl all over the front of the sundress and glimmer as the flames from the fire through the window hole dance upon them and make them glitter at him. 

His fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and touch one, and a slight look of remorse kidnaps his smile for a brief moment. 

“What have you got planned for me?” Jude enquires with a smile.

He smirks at her from under the shadows of his cap; a devilish puckered grin breaking out across his lips that makes her skin prickle up and her nipples come alive and harden under the dress.

“Well, I was thinking maybe a movie, but the cinema here really sucks with their listings.” He states.

She giggles. 

“Then I thought maybe salsa dancing,” he rocks his hips from side to side a little and she puts her hand over her mouth as she laughs again as she regards his awkward moves. “But I can’t fuckin’ dance to save my life.” Frankie concludes.

“Evidently,” she agrees, licking her lips.

“So, I figured we could go for a drive and maybe have an impromptu groping session in the back of my truck on the ridge. It’s what all the cool kids do, right?”

“Absolutely,” Jude laughs harder this time, and he chuckles in awe at her. 

“I like it when you do that.” Frankie admits and his smile remains in place on his face.

“Do what?”

“Laugh like that. It’s awesome.” He steps forward closing the gap, and tucks her damp hair behind her ear.

She reaches up to his wrist and holds onto it for a moment before taking his left hand and circling the little bullseye tattoo over it.

He smells wild, like the sea and the outside world. The elements of the planet absorbing into his skin and leaving a distinct scent mixed in with his own fragile existence as a man. A man that’s seemingly more attractive to her as the days wear on; thinking about his skin against hers, how he’ll taste on her lips - all the ways he could fuck her over this island.

His fingers feel warm on her face as they brush against her cheek. Sure, they’ve both spied on one another for shits and kinky giggles covertly, but his touch is real now and it burns, leaving scorching, painful brands. 

“Frankie,” Jude murmurs softly as he puts both his hands on the side of her face and looks down into her weary eyes. 

“Mm?” He hums in a bewitching tone as time slows down around them. 

“I need you to tell me that we’re going to get off this island. I need you to believe it.” She whispers to him, clutching onto his wrists. 

He presses his forehead against hers and breathes out into her face, the rim of his cap pushing it off his head slightly as it makes contact with hers. “I can’t...”

“Lie to me. Make me believe it.”

“I can’t do that either.” Frankie replies, the warmth of his breath flowing from his plush mouth settles into her pores. 

She looks at him and can see his lips, so huge and pink right in her eyes, surrounded by the fuzz of his ever growing moustache and beard.

“Please.” She whimpers; his fingers are felt rummaging hypnotically inside of her hair and scalp, making all the hairs on her body stand tall to order.

He draws back and looks at her square in the eye after taking a deep breath. “We’re going to get off this island.” Frankie says directly to her in a voice that isn’t convincing at all. 

“Say it again.” Jude prompts. 

“We’re going to get off this island.”

“And again.”

“We’re...” He pauses, searching for the strength he knows he had inside of him once upon a time; before he had come to this wretched place. Before he had succumbed to an addiction that messed everything up.

But he’s coming up empty.

“Frankie-”

He sighs softly. “We’re going to get off this island, Jude.” He repeats again, his shoulders sagging.

She looks back into his eyes; those big, unrelenting orbs that hold a thousand secrets and a thousand lies and it’s hard to tell which is which as they churn around his irises. 

“Liar.” She says, with a small slip of a smile and he smiles back at her. 

“Promise me something,” she puts to him as he regards her. 

“What?” Frankie asks. 

“Promise me that you’ll always be honest with me. Even if it’s something you think I won’t want to hear, okay?”

Frankie glances over at the notebook and she turns him back to face her. “Just promise me.”

He nods slowly, his face changing as though he’s been caught out on some dirty, twisted secret. “Did you read it all?”

“I read enough.” Jude says, softly. “You once said to me that it was okay to be scared.”

He nods. “I promise.” 

She reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly.

“Good. Now where’s your shitty truck parked?”

Frankie smiles lightly and takes her hand, leading her out the shack towards the fire. 

They eat the remaining fish that Egon hadn’t stolen by the fire side and drink water. 

But in the spirit of first dates, Frankie explains to her, in great detail, that he’s in fact taken her to his favourite Mexican restaurant in Florida. They aren’t here under the moonlight, but drinking cocktails, sitting at a table by the window watching the world go by, as they eat and talk and laugh about every topic imaginable. 

“What’s it called, this amazing restaurant?”

“The Dancing Red Pepper.” Frankie says, after swallowing his fish. 

“Really?” 

“They make this cocktail, it’s all the colours of the Mexican flag. I have no fuckin’ idea how they do it, but it’s really cool.” He shrugs. 

“That does sound very cool.” Jude agrees. “What do you think you’d be doing if you didn’t go into the Army?” She asks. “Like, what did you wanna be when you grew up?”

“I liked science at school… I figured maybe I could be an archaeologist. I wanted to dig up dinosaur bones.”

“Dinosaurs, huh?” She sounds impressed.

Frankie nods. “Almost came in my pants when I watched Jurassic Park for the first time.” 

She snorts. “Cute.”

“What about you? What was the dream job?” He queries with a smirk.

“I’m doing it. I love taking pictures. Always have. It kinda gives you a different perspective on the world when you look through the lens.” She speaks with reverence and a deep rooted adoration for it. It radiates out of her and sinks into Frankie’s skin, infecting him with the wonderment of it all. 

“What’s your favourite photograph you’ve ever taken?” Frankie asks.

Jude thinks for a moment and smiles looking into the fire. “I was in France, Paris… there’s this row of benches down by the Jardins Tuileries. And it's really peaceful there... it's nice to just stop and rest, you know? I watched when this old couple sat down together. She pulls a sandwich out of her purse and hands him half it, and they sit there and eat together. And like, they don’t say a word to each other. At all. Like, nothing. No conversation, just silence.”

“Really?” He asks.

“Yeah. but it’s not weird, you know? There wasn’t any tension like they’d had an argument or anything. They simply just hold hands and eat their sandwich half with the other, and watch the world go by together. I took the photo when they’d finished, and the man had turned to the woman and noticed she had a piece of the sandwich on her lip. And he gets his handkerchief out of his pocket and just… dabs ever so gently at her face and smiles at her. I captured it there at that moment. That moment when he looked into her eyes and smiled at her with the most adoration I think I've ever seen in anyone's eyes. It was beautiful.”

“They were in love.” Frankie surmises.

“I really think they were.” Jude smiles. “I have it framed in my room… or at least, I did.” 

“I’d love to see it one day, your photo.” He says. And she smiles at him with a little nod. 

They sit eating together in a wistful silence for a few moments before Frankie speaks again. 

“Did Nate ever look at you like that?"

Jude snorts. "No."

"Tell me how you met him."

“You really want to know about him?” She frowns a little.

“Sure, he was a part of your life, right? Even if he is an asshole.”

“He was.” She bites down on the inside of her cheek sourly. “We met at a house party; he was a friend of a friend.”

“Tell me what happened. You said he cheated?” He enquires.

“I walked in on him fucking another woman in our bed. And it wasn’t for the first time either.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I needed to see it - again. To finally know that I was worth so much more than what he could give me. I’ve spent some time, whilst we’ve been here, evaluating things. I’m sure you have too.”

Frankie nods silently. His mind drifts back to the tumultuous events of his past - the choices made, the paths taken, and the mistakes that haunt him still. 

“And it puts a lot of things into perspective, I guess. Like, when we get off this island, there are so many things I’m going to do differently.”

“Did you love him? Like those two people on the bench?” Frankie asks as he looks at her intently, those enquiring eyes of his round and fixated on her.

“With all my piece of shit heart,” she admits. “Did you love your girlfriend?”

Frankie shakes his head. “Not for a long time.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell her?” 

Frankie picks up a pebble in the sand; fiddles with it around his thick, shaky fingers. “Because… I was afraid of admitting it out loud to myself,” he replies. 

“What were you afraid of exactly?” Jude enquires.

“That I could never really love anybody,” he says flatly. “I know I felt something for her. I know I felt all those things you’re supposed to feel for someone in the beginning. Affection, caring... Maybe even love, I dunno. I just know for a long time we weren’t right, and it was my fault.”

“Why was it your fault, what did you do?” Jude asks. 

He swallows hard and sighs hesitantly. 

“Frankie, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfor-”

“No I…” He sighs again. “I wanna tell you. I-I just don’t think you’ll like it when I do.”

He glances at Jude, her soft features illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, and feels a knot form in his stomach.

For weeks, he’s wrestled with the decision to confide in her, to lay bare the darkest chapter of his past - the chapter he’s fought so hard to overcome, yet has never truly escaped. It's followed him here to the island too.

But as he looks into her eyes, he sees a glimmer of understanding, a flicker of empathy that gives him the courage to speak. Taking a deep breath, he begins to recount the events that had led him down the path of addiction - the pain, the loneliness, the overwhelming sense of despair that had driven him to seek solace in the numbing embrace of drugs.

“I-I had a problem. A problem with drugs. Cocaine. It was so stupid. I lost my licence to fly.” He breathes, feeling his fingers tremble around the pebble further. 

“In the Army?”

“No, I’d done my service. Twenty years, or thereabouts. Felt longer. I retired honourably. Entered back into civilization, but it was… different. Tough to adjust and I don't think I really did. I guess I found it hard to settle. We all did.”

“We? You mean your Army buddies?” Judes probes gently.

“Yeah. There isn’t a lot of support out there for us. You're kinda left displaced, y'know? A pat on the back and off you go. I had nightmares for a really long time. I… have nightmares. Sometimes they’re really fuckin' bad. Vivid.”

“I can’t imagine the things you must’ve seen.” Her eyes urge him to continue. 

“The things I did,” he holds his wrist out and takes off his broken watch to show Jude the numbers inked into his skin. 

“Do they mean something?” She asks, peering at them carefully. She wants to trace her finger over them. “Are they coordinates?”

He shakes his head. “Memories. 9 physical scars. 28 stitches. 39 confirmed kills. 87 civilians. 208 days spent on the front line. 674 bullets.”

“God.” Jude trails off quietly. “Frankie, that’s…”

“I know.” He nods, he tosses the watch on the sand. Jude shuffles closer to him, her knee brushing against his and he smiles thinly. 

"9 scars?" She asks, unable to imagine the stories behind them.

He nods. "My body is pretty fucked. But not as much as in here, I guess." He points to his temple and Jude nods forlornly as she tries to comprehend it all.

Taking a deep breath, Frankie begins to speak again, his voice steady, but tinged with emotion.

"It started a few years ago," he says, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames before them. “I dunno, I just… it wasn’t something I actively looked for, it was an opportunity to make some extra cash to help. Things were bad, I was pretty desperate. I was working as a cargo transfer pilot, shit pay and long hours, flying in and picking up small cargo units to bring over borders etc… legitimate cargo. But then I was asked to carry cargo that wasn’t so legitimate.”

“Drugs.” Jude nods. 

“It was easy. Too fuckin’ easy. I knew the routes to stay undetected. And then they stopped paying me in cash and paid me in drugs a few times and it started then. I just wanted to sleep. To stop having nightmares. And it worked. Being high was like... all the noise stopped. It was quiet for a while... I got caught. I failed a routine drug test. Pilots can’t fly under any influence. I lost my job after a suspension. I was lucky I didn’t go to jail. And then my life just… spiralled. So fuckin’ fast. And then I went on a job with my buddies. An opportunity came up to make some decent money. Real decent. Could set me up for life. Completely illegal, of course. Colombia..."

He trails off, frowning at the recall of the events in the Andes.

"In Delta Force, we have skills that are specialist. Training for missions that aren't exactly by the book. And this mission was as far from the book as they come. I don’t even know why the fuck I said yes, it was a fuckin’ disaster from the start. We lost one of our own. Tom. He could be an asshole, but he was first in command. He had a daughter… We came home with nothing. Gave the money to the family. It was the right thing to do. I-I came home and threw myself into the drugs to cope I guess. I didn’t tell anybody.”

“You went through all that alone?” Jude asks, looking at him. 

“I pushed them all away, it was easier. No guilt. It wasn't just the drugs," Frankie continues, his voice growing softer. "It was the loneliness, the sense of... of failure. I felt like I'd let everyone down, like I'd lost myself somewhere along the way." 

Tears well up in his eyes as he speaks, and he pauses, overcome by the weight of his own words. He looks down to see Jude weaving her fingers into his and squeezing gently. He squeezes back. 

His voice is steady, but tinged with emotion. “But then I accidentally overdosed and it scared me enough to get help. I went to rehab and it was... terrifying. My sponsor, Eddie, he... I got a new job and threw myself into work. It was all I had, and I needed the distraction it gave me. I was six months sober when I boarded the plane.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little coin and hands it to her.

"You had this on you all this time?" The coin is small; a little worn round the edge and tarnished.

"Yeah, it survived with me in my pocket. I forgot all about it until after a few days of being here when it fell out as I was washing up my jeans."

“I’m proud of you, Frankie.” Jude whispers.

He simply baulks.

“No-one’s ever told you that, have they?”

“No, just you…” He admits. Frankie wipes away a stray tear, his chest tight with emotion. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice thick with gratitude. "I've never told anyone about this before."

“Did your partner know?”

“Yeah. I put her through a lot. She was there when it got real bad. She was pissed when I went to Colombia. And it was worse when I got back. I think she really hated me in the end. I don’t blame her... I fucked it up entirely.”

Jude squeezes his arm with her other hand and rests her head against it, looking into the fire. “No-one enters into a relationship with the intention of fucking it up.”

“Even Nate?” Frankie questions.

“Well, maybe he’s the exception,” she smirks. “But I think he was just lost in his own way, I guess.”

“Do you miss him?” He asks her enquiringly.

She sighs out. “Sometimes it hurts, like it winds me a bit, from out of nowhere, you know?”

He nods, feeling how good her fingers feel knotted in his own. Her chin knocks against his bicep as she speaks. 

“Do you miss your ex-girlfriend? I mean, would you want to try to rekindle things with her again when you get home?”

Frankie shakes his head. “No, it’s dead in the water. I just... I don't want you to think less of me," he admits, his voice tinged with a croaked vulnerability. "But I cheated on her too. Only once. I was completely out of it and, I know it's not an excuse."

She looks up at him, her chin resting on his shoulder. 

"I could never think less of you." Jude says, earnestly. "You were hurting, Frankie."

“Back home, I was a completely different man to what I am here.” 

"You're strong, you're brave, and you're here, sharing your story with me. That means everything. People can change, Frankie. I’m glad you told me.” 

Tears well up in Frankie's eyes again, overwhelmed by her kindness and sincerity. “You told me I could tell you anything, even if you didn’t wanna to hear it.” He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“It's heavy, sure. But, I’m glad you told me. And it’s eight months, by the way. You're eight months sober.” Jude smiles. 

Frankie nods looking at her face, inches from his own. “Yeah.”

“I'm just grateful that you trust me enough to open up like this." She surmises. 

“I do.” He confirms. He puts his arm around her and squeezes her in close. She feels his hand resting at the hem of the dress, his thumb smoothing over the crease in the dress there on her thigh, running back and forth gently.

She closes her eyes and focuses on the hypnotic feel of it, nuzzling in closer on his arm.

They sit together looking out at the water, blackened by night around the edges of the horizon, but lit up by the moon and galaxy of stars above. Despite the isolation, there’s beauty to be found in this place; times like this where the sapphire water seems to almost glimmer at them and the world is immensely peaceful, save for the gentle rolling waves on the shore; constant background music that never pauses.

“This might sound weird, but being here, with you, it doesn’t suck at all.” Frankie mumbles. 

“Ditto.” Jude replies with a smile when he turns to her. She nudges into him playfully with her shoulder and he chuckles.

For a fleeting moment, he entertains the idea of leaning in, of pressing his lips to hers and losing himself in the warmth of her embrace.

His body feels it, blood pumping. Instead, he shifts slightly, adjusting his position by the fire, and forces himself to focus on the crackling flames before him. The temptation lingers in the air, thick and heavy like the smoke from the fire.

Frankie can feel it pulling at him, tugging at the edges of his resolve. He wants nothing more than to lean in, to close the distance between them, and to taste the sweetness of her lips against his own. But he holds himself back, his heart pounding in his chest as he fights against the urge.

Jude senses his hesitation, and turns to him, her eyes searching his face carefully. "Are you okay?" She asks softly.

“I’m sorry that what I wrote upset you.” Frankie says, swallowing hard. 

“You don’t need to apologise for feeling that way. I mean, we’re kinda leaning on each other, right?” She feels that pang inside her chest again.

“Yeah... we are.”

“I’m glad.” She smiles. “I’m glad you’re here with me. We can definitely get through this together. This island has met its match.” She makes a fist and he bumps it with his own.

“It sure has, hermosa," he agrees. Frankie looks at her and smiles back before looking out at the sea again. 

He stands up with her after a while of contented, thoughtful silence that envelops them both, and they smile back at one another again.  

“So, this is the part where I walk you home and then you ask me if I want to come in for a coffee.” Frankie states with the fire casting dancing embers inside his eyes; almost glowering at her demonically. 

“You know that's code, right?" She chirps. "Besides, I don’t drink coffee, so good luck with that.”

“Really, no coffee?”

“No, can’t stand the taste.”

“Man, I can’t even function in the morning without a coffee.” He holds out his arm for her, and she links it in hers.

“I had a really good time tonight.” She teases him in a fluttery voice.

“Oh, shut up,” he smirks, as they laugh walking the very short distance from the shoreline, past the fire and towards the shack. 

Once at the shack, they linger outside the doorway and both giggle awkwardly.

“So,” Frankie begins. 

“Don’t be weird.” Jude concludes. 

“Was it everything you hoped for?” Frankie asks, as he puts his hands inside his shorts pockets awkwardly. 

“You mean the date?”

“What else would I be referring to?” He shrugs with a smirk.

“It was perfect.”

“Perfect, huh? No room for improvement; I mean the fuckin’ waiter took ages with the dessert.”

“True. Okay, I’ll knock it down to a seven out of ten.”

“Seven? Ouch...” He puts his hand over his chest like he’s been shot.

She laughs again and brushes the hair away from her face. 

“If I kiss you, will that bump it up to ten?” Frankie asks with a fixated smile looming over her. 

“I don’t know. Try it and see.” She feels her stomach flutter and her heart begin to thrum in her chest.

He simply twists his cap backwards on his head making her chuckle, and pulls her closer to him with his arm around her waist; his touch seems like it’s suddenly burning. He reaches up, his fingers on her chin and tilts her face up to him. 

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” Frankie murmurs to her and watches as her eyes dip, smiling under her fanned lashes and melting somewhat in his arms. 

His eyes are deep set and mysterious, rounded and yet almond shaped at the same time. She’s wondered for so long what this would be like, thinking about how he’ll taste, feel... 

“Are you gonna smooth talk me, Fish, or are you gonna kiss me?” Jude giggles. 

Smiling, he slants his lips against hers, smooching delicately as her hands sweep around the back of his neck and she stands up on tip toes as he pulls her against his slender body. 

His tongue slides inside her mouth tentatively and exploring; the wiry, greying hairs from his moustache tickling her lip deliciously. His hand works inside her hair at the back of her head, cradling her closer, and she rifles her fingers through his curls at the nape of his neck and feels him groan inside her mouth. 

The noise sets her skin alight, birthing millions of goose bumps across the surface and sending shivers down her spine and into her toes. Jude nips onto his lips and he smiles through the kiss, biting back gently and suckling on her bottom lip; their tongues dancing and grinding against one another as they explore each other’s mouths in a hypnotic rhythm.

Every nerve in his body seems to come alive with the electric energy of the moment, sparking with the intensity of their connection.

But beneath the surface of his excitement, there’s also a profound sense of vulnerability lurking as he trembles. He’s baring his soul to her, laying his heart on the line in a way he never has before. The weight of his confession hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the crackling of the fire and the soft sigh of the night breeze.

Yet despite the uncertainty that dances on the edges of his consciousness, there’s also a sense of rightness, of belonging. In her arms, Frankie feels safe, understood, and accepted for who he truly is, faults and all. And as their lips meet in a tender, yet charged lock, all the doubts and fears that have plagued him melt away into a depth that he feels like he's no longer drowning in. He feels, for a moment, like he can truly breathe above the surface of the water.

For Jude, the moment is a whirlwind of emotions, a kaleidoscope of sensations that leave her breathless and exhilarated. As Franke leans in to kiss her, she feels a surge of warmth spread through her body, igniting a spark of desire deep within her core.

His touch is gentle yet firm, sending shivers down her spine with anticipation. Her heart races in her chest and ears, a rapid cadence matching the rhythm of their breaths as they meld together in an intimate vie for one another. 

She can feel the heat of his body against hers, a comforting warmth that chases away the oncoming chill of the night air. With each brush of their lips, she feels herself sinking deeper into the moment, losing herself in the dizzying sensation of him. Time seems to stand still as they linger in each other's arms, their bodies pressed close as if trying to merge into one.

He pulls away, leaving the ghost of him on her lips to taste, and waits, looking at her expectantly.

“Meh. Nine point five,” Jude remarks, and he rolls his eyes smirking, leaning in to kiss her again.

She kisses him back intensely, feeling how wet and warm his tongue is inside her mouth again. It makes Catherine wheel’s spin inside her chest, her toes buzz. She clenches between her legs when she feels him prodding against her belly, something so obviously hard in it's shape, and it makes her whimper. 

And Frankie groans at that sound, clutching her closer; his kiss becoming more frantic, her hands grappling at him harder. He squeezes at her hips with a grunt. 

“Frankie…” She gasps, running her mouth up the side of his neck, tasting the salted skin there as he licks and kisses over her shoulder, tempted, so fuckin' tempted, to just pull the strap down.

Her mind goes blank, lost in the noise of the colour he paints over her skin with his tongue.

”Tell me to stop,” he husks as his hands slide over her ass, groping and squeezing as he winds his hips further into her body. "Jude, tell me to stop." He begs.

“I don’t want you to stop.” Jude gasps, finding his mouth again as he crushes her to him. She runs her hands down his chest and he shudders. “Take me inside,” she smiles around his lips. 

“If I take you inside, I’m gonna fuck you.” Frankie warns with a groan as her hands knot inside his shirt, tugging on it sharply and moaning out at his words. “And you said you don’t fuck guys on a first date,” he pants, feeling his head swim and fill with bubbles.

All he can think about is how she feels inside his hands as he tries his damned hardest to cling onto his remaining composure, fingers slipping off the ledge.

And how fucking hard he is right now. 

Jude looks up at him, her heart hammering so loud in her ears that she’s convinced he can hear it too. “I might make an exception, just this once.”

He grins at her, thumb running the length of her jaw before he kisses there again. “Me matas… fuck.” (You kill me.)

“Take me inside and fuck me, Frankie.” She confirms with a blazing smile.

To be continued...

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know.

Tagging everyone who asked to be tagged/commented on/re-blogged my initial teaser & prologue:

@suzdin @missladym1981 @magpiepills @millennial-teenybopper @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @msjarvis @tightjeansjavi @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @sin-djarin @rhoorl @disassociation-daydreams @quinnnfabrgay @chronically-ghosted @fuckyeahdindjarin @chiriwritesstuff @copperhalfcent @bluestar22x @5oh5 @gobaaby-blog-blog @myloveistoolittle @pastawench @maggiemayhemnj @secretelephanttattoo @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @thethirstwivesclub @seratuyo @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @toomanytookas @survivingandenduring @lizzie-cakes @sawymredfox @iloveenya @elegantduckturtle @covetyou @undercoverpena @connectioneverywhere @trulybetty @nerdieforpedro @thisneozonerecs @fckyeapedrothots99 @goodwithcheese @anavatazes @doughmonkey @lilmizmoz @76bookworm76

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales angst #triple frontier fic #adrift with you series #jett's writing

[denaliwrites]

Road to Hell

Crowley x GN!Reader

Summary: Of all the subjects Crowley thought he might walk in on you researching in the bookshop, demonology was probably at the bottom of the list.

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Crowley is a dick (affectionate).

"What're you reading today?" Crowley asked, towering over you with a contemplative look. You lifted the book for him to see and in return he offered a shocked choking sound in the back of his throat. "Demonology, huh? What... inspired you to read that?"

He hadn't told you anything about him and Aziraphale being a demon and an angel, respectively. As far as he knew, Aziraphale hadn't broached the topic with you, either. To him, there was absolutely no reason for you to be reading about anything even remotely connected to his or Aziraphale's status as supernatural beings.

Yet here you were.

Reading a book on demonology.

You shrugged in response to his question, bringing the book back down to your lap to read comfortably. "I'd never checked out the occult section before, so I decided to read something from there and this was the most interesting looking book on the whole shelf."

"Ah, right." That did, to Crowley's immense relief, make sense. You'd read at least one book from nearly every section in the bookshop -- why wouldn't you, at some point, venture into the occult?

"Can't help but wonder how accurate it is, though," you mused aloud. "Pretty sure we've all collectively decided that demonic possessions are all just mentally ill people being misunderstood and abused by the church, right? Or I guess sometimes maybe people seeking attention? So how much of this is, like... considered true, I guess?"

"Do you... believe in demons?" Crowley asked carefully.

"Not really. I mean, I feel like if they were real, we'd have more evidence than just... the church saying so? Like, surely atheists and Satanists would've met a ton of demons by now, but I don't see any atheists or Satanists ever talking about meeting demons."

Crowley had to admit that was a fair cop. Maybe a little... small-minded, at least cosmically speaking, but you were but a human. That could be excused.

"What if they were real?" he asked, coming to sit on the arm of the chair you occupied. "What if you met a demon? Knew a demon, even?"

You made a sound at the back of your throat that sounded an awful lot like the one he made. "I'd have a lot of things I needed to reconsider, for starters."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Well," you started, closing the book and turning so that you were facing him. "If demons were real, then I think the next logical step would be that angels were real, and if angels were real then the next step from that point would be that God's real."

He rocked back slightly to better look at you, clicking his tongue curiously. "Is that so bad, really?"

You sighed dramatically. It was a sound he loved -- it usually came before something remarkably human. Something remarkably You. "Anthony Janthony Cranthony," you lamented, "I cannot ever, under any circumstances, let my parents know that I regret not going to church more."

Anthony Janthony Cranthony? Why had you called him that? Of all things, to go with Anthony Janthony Cranthony...

He supposed that wasn't really the point to what you were saying. Something about your parents and church, though, that was the point.

"Not sure why they'd have to know," he said casually with a shrug.

Your eyes widened in shocked realization. "Oh, fuck, you're right! They'd never have to know. You're brilliant," you said, to him -- you'd called him brilliant! He beamed at that. "Going to Hell anyway, if all that were real, may as well add 'disrespecting my parents' to my list of sins."

Oh.

"Why do you think you'd go to Hell, darling?"

"It's not like I've been living a pious life, y'know?" you said, blinking up at him. "I curse, I've fucked out of wedlock, I'm reading all about demons and witchcraft and shit. I don't believe in God? I'm pretty sure that's one of the big no-nos."

It was his turn to blink, but his was followed up with a laugh. "Oh, love, God does not care about any of those things. Trust me."

"Oh, God, are you a Christian? Have you been this whole time? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend--"

"No, no, nothing like that. I..."

How did he tell you? Should he even tell you? He was sure Aziraphale might have something to say on the matter, but right now he couldn't be fucked, because you were here, looking up at him so innocently, so adoringly.

"What is it, Crowley?" And you sounded so concerned, so ready to take him into your arms and comfort him and apologize for a crime you hadn't even committed.

"I'm a demon."

The words tumbled forth from his lips before he could stop himself, and they hovered in the air for several silent and tense moments after, where all you did was stare at him.

And then you laughed -- and he wished he could laugh too. Hell, he wished he could hear even a trace of joy in your laugh. But it was all nerves and fear, like you weren't sure if this was some sick joke or if he was delusional.

When his expression didn't change, when he didn't yell out "sike!" or "gotcha!," your laugh died and then you just looked scared of him.

It nearly broke him, because if this was how you reacted before proof, how would you react when he showed you the truth?

But you didn't run away, so he carefully removed his glasses and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. Yours were locked onto the yellow irises, the slitted pupils that contracted and dilated at will.

He could tell you wanted to deny the reality of them -- that you wanted to write them off as contacts, but they wouldn't let you, because contacts couldn't dilate.

The only other things he could do -- well, within the confines of the bookshop, were show you his wings or turn into a snake. He wasn't huge on the latter option, at least not right now -- it definitely put him at a disadvantage, made him easier to discorporate.

So, instead, he moved to a stand. And his wings fanned out as you watched, and then, he figured, you'd run out the door screaming, never to be seen again. He hoped you lived well. He closed his eyes so that he didn't have to watch you walk away.

You got up -- he could hear the rustling of fabric, the relieved groan of the chair, the book falling onto the cushion. He expected the little bell above the door to signal your departure at any moment.

Instead, he felt your hands on his face, pulling him nearer to you. His eyes opened, stared into yours. The fear had gone, replaced by unabashed curiosity and deep, untamed love.

He expected many things to come out of that lovely mouth of yours. So God is real? Am I going to Hell? I don't want to go to Hell! What did I do to deserve going to Hell???

(You weren't going to Hell -- but after the initial question, people tended to panic and vomit the others out uncontrollably.)

He expected those questions. A handful of a select few others. He did not anticipate what you actually asked --

"Do you have a cool demon name?"

"A... Sorry, a what?"

"You know... Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Lucifer, Belial. What's your demon name?"

"O-oh... No... no 'cool' demon name, I'm afraid. Just... Just Crowley..."

He hadn't expected to be embarrassed and doubly hadn't expected to see a beaming smile on your face.

"I think Crowley's the coolest demon name, personally."

He could see in your eyes that you meant it -- and that made him smile.

"Isn't it just?" he asked with a relieved laugh.

"Now I gotta know what all you've done as a demon. I mean -- how old are you?"

"Old as the universe, darling."

He could see the moment your brain started trying to process that unfathomable information, and he could also see the moment it gave up. You moved on as if nothing happened, but Crowley took a moment to appreciate he wouldn't have to miracle your memories away before your brain went into nuclear meltdown.

"Why aren't you in Hell?"

"It's dreadfully boring."

"Why are you here?"

"I just think humans are neat... and your lot is very good at making booze."

"Have you done anything cool as a demon?"

"I met Shakespeare, I stopped some Nazi spies, I tempted Eve, I stopped Armageddon..."

"You what!?"

"Oh, yeah..." He made that sound in his throat. You copied it, seemingly from instinct. He wasn't even sure you noticed that you did it. "Long story, but Aziraphale and I convinced the Antichrist to just... not do the whole ending the world thing."

"Who's Aziraphale?"

"Oh. Right. Mr. Fell."

"... Mr. Fell? This Mr. Fell?" You motioned to the bookshop at large and Crowley nodded. "Is he a demon too?"

Crowley laughed -- an uproarious, barking laugh, that lasted much longer than was strictly necessary.

"Oh, you better not let him hear that," he said once he'd calmed down.

"... So he's not a demon?" you mumbled, and Crowley realized he'd accidentally made you feel bad.

He took one of your hands in his and guided it away from his face so that he could kiss the palm. "No, darling, he's not." He kissed your palm again. "He's an angel."

"I'm sorry -- he's a what?"

"An angel, of course. Really, like he could be anything else."

Nothing against him, of course, but he very much was what he was.

"So why are an ageless angel and demon wasting their time with me, a human who'll wither and die? Why go through that for me?"

"Well, it's not exactly our fault you weaseled your way into our lives," he said with an indignant hgk. "But now that you're here, we can't really imagine the place without you."

"I think that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, and I can't believe it came from a demon."

"Don't let the angel know I let you get away with calling me sweet. He'd never let me live it down."

#crowley x reader #crowley x you #good omens x reader #good omens fic #good omens fan fiction #david tennant

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

Would A Mudkip Be A Good Pet?

For our third Indigo Disk Week post, it’s time to cover the fan-favorite muddy baby mudkip! I’m happy to announce that a mudkip would indeed make a good pet, so long as you are able to provide the right environment for them.

As far as the basics go, we’ve got all the usual water-type starter features. Manageable size. Bit of a risk of getting your place all soggy. Common first partner pokémon in the Hoenn Region and thus known to be friendly and receptive to training. Absolutely adorable. These are all pluses so far.

The only issues when it comes to mudkip care, in addition to the aforementioned risk of getting sprayed with water, come in their habitat needs. Wild mudkips live in shallow, muddy bodies of water, sleeping under soil and mud either at the waters edge (Emerald) or at its bottom (HeartGold/SoulSilver). Mudkips seem to be amphibious, having no problem spending time on land while simultaneously boasting gills that allow them to breathe underwater (Sapphire) and a tail fin specialized in propelling them through currents (FireRed/LeafGreen). Mudkips have adapted to living in murky water by developing the fin on their head to act as a powerful sensor when they can’t see with their eyes (Ruby). A pet mudkip will likely require a body of water to play and rest in, like a pond or a pool. Mud too! Just like their name suggests, these critters love mud (be prepared to mop your home a lot)! Obviously, this need isn’t something that every owner will be able to handle, but anyone experienced with water-types will find it to not be too large a hurdle.

Another thing to consider: mudkips are deceptively strong (X). They are said to not only be able to crush boulders larger than themselves with pure force (Sapphire), but to lift them (Emerald). This comes through in their moves as well. While mudkips boast the usual starter water-moves that you’d expect, they can also make use of some potentially dangerous rock-type moves like Rock Throw and Rock Slide to attack enemies with rocks, or moves like Rock Smash to break through tough defenses. Thankfully, considering their friendly demeanor and how one can pretty easily keep large rocks away from them, this shouldn’t be too much of an issue. Their strength, however, could present problems in a different way. For example, if you close the door to your room while you’re working, sleeping, etc. and they want to come inside, they could break it down pretty easily. They could rearrange or topple over furniture without much issue. Mudkips are a species that needs solid training once adopted as a pet.

While they do have habitat and training needs, mudkips are overall pretty good pet candidates. They are unfortunately not breaking the top-ten pokémon pets, but anyone determined enough to meet their needs could find a great (muddy) buddy in one!

#pokémon #pokemon #mudkip #pkmn irl #PR-A #the indigo disk

[hottpinkpenguin]

Hii, could you do a matthias x reader with the promp "Did I miss the part where you suddenly turned likeable?" where the reader is Grisha and her and matthias HATE, eachother. Like literally loath eachothers existence and they end up jeprodising missions because off it

A/n: loved this idea!!! who doesn't love a good enemies-to-(maybe?) friends story! let me know what you think anon :)

Matthias X Inferni Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,490 Warnings: mentions of disfigurement, burning, cursing, not proofread

The force of the explosion collided with Matthias’ back, throwing him forward like a ragdoll. Heat singed the back of his neck as small shards of rock and glass bit into his skin. He slammed down against the rocky ground, knocking the breath from his chest. Pain and shock kept him immobilized for a few moments as he tried to gasp air into his lungs. His ears rung with a high pitched keening, the world disappearing in a blaze of bright white light for an instant. 

When he finally felt his lungs expand with a greedy breath, he opened his eyes to see a pair of leather boots standing in front of him. He looked up at you, your lip curled slightly in a half-snarl, half-smirk. 

“Get up, druskelle. I’m not carrying you.” You stood above him, your arms crossed, a look of smug contentment on your face as you watched him struggle to regain his breath and clamber to his hands and knees. 

Hatred boiled in his gut as the urge to swipe your ankles out from under you raced through his mind. He knew you were too good a fighter, your reflexes too quick, to actually be caught unawares like that, but the image of you falling to your ass - no matter how unlikely - was so appealing that he couldn’t help himself. He lashed out with his right hand, hoping that a combination of speed and strength might just catch you off your guard. 

As he predicted, you were too fast. You lifted one of your feet and slammed it down on his wrist like a cat catching its prey, pinning his wrist against the ground. He grit his teeth against the pain. You’d used just enough force to hurt him without actually injuring him, although he knew that wasn’t for his benefit. 

“Saints, you two are going to get us all killed!” Jesper and Kaz strode over from the still smoldering remains of the building you’d blown up. Kaz’s face looked like a thundercloud as he approached you, coming up so close to your face Matthias swore the Bastard of the Barrel was going to spit on you. 

“Let him go, Fire Witch.” Kaz’s voice was a low growl, threat laced through every word. Your eyes narrowed in challenge, and Matthias felt your foot grind down a little harder on his wrist before releasing him. You were flicking the shard of flint you used as a fire starter between the fingers of your right hand as you held Kaz’s gaze. 

“He shouldn’t be here,” you snarled back. “I don’t work with Grisha killers. He’s lucky I haven’t burned the skin from his bones.” Your eyes were dark and hateful as you watched Matthias rise from the ground. He ignored the threat: however strong your hatred of him, it was returned in kind. 

“It’s not your call. Fall in line, or get out of my sight.” Matthias hadn’t known Kaz long, but if there was one thing he’d learned, it was that Kaz Brekker was the leader of every mission. Matthias, for his part, appreciated a strong leader. Kaz’s shrewd if at times shockingly cruel tactics never troubled Matthias, although he’d seen you struggle with taking orders since you’d fallen in with the crew almost a year ago.

So Matthias wasn’t surprised when he saw your hands flit like hummingbirds at your side. He realized now why Kaz was standing so close: it blocked you from being able to use the Small Science. And Kaz knew you well enough to know that you’d never back down from him - literally or figuratively. Matthias made a mental note in his head, although he sincerely doubted if he’d ever tolerate being that close to you. Your and Kaz’s nose were barely a hair’s width from brushing.

“I don’t take orders, either.” Your voice matched Kaz’s in its tone, eagerly rising to the challenge.

Kaz didn’t balk or blink in the slightest. In fact, he smirked smugly at you, like a spider who knows its caught a fly. Jesper stood close to Kaz’s side, his eyes trained on you warily.

“You’ll take orders from me, Witch, or you’ll suffer the consequences. More aptly, you’ll watch someone else suffer the consequences.”

For the first time since Matthias had the misfortune of meeting you, he saw something like real fear in your eyes. Your nostrils flared at Kaz. As the standoff stretched on through a few tense breaths, Matthias realized he never knew how or why you’d come to end up working with Kaz Brekker. He’d never cared enough to wonder. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what Kaz meant by “watching someone else suffer the consequences”, although it clearly struck a chord for you. Whatever Kaz had on you, it was something you didn’t seem willing or able to walk away from.

“You know I won’t do that.” Your chin dropped a half inch, your eyes widening slightly as if to convey to Kaz a sincerity Matthias didn’t know you had. 

Sensing victory, Kaz nodded. “I know that. So you’ll fall in line. Stop trying to get the Fjerdan killed.” 

You shot Matthias a look of contempt over Kaz’s shoulder. Irritated and emboldened, Kaz thrust the carved crow handle of his cane up under your chin, jerking your head back towards him. 

“Fall in line or pay the price.” 

Matthias watched as the rest of your headstrong resolve crumbled under whatever Kaz was threatening you with. The tension in the air was so thick Matthias realized he was holding his breath. He shot a quick look over at Jesper, stock still at Kaz’s shoulder with his shooting hand flexed subtly by his holster, as if he thought you might lash out at his boss. Something about Jesper’s defensive posture and Kaz’s overtly bullying behavior was grating on him. For reasons he couldn’t understand, he actually felt like defending you. 

“She won’t kill me, Boss.” Three pairs of eyes snapped over to Matthias as he spoke. “She couldn’t if she tried. Fjerdan or not, I’ve gotten under her skin. She likes me, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

Matthias didn’t believe a word he said, but he added just enough smug swagger to his voice that Kaz and Jesper seemed to buy it. The moment broken, Kaz stepped back from you and Jesper’s shooting hand dropped from his holster. Kaz shot you one more warning look before he strode past you, shoving you with his shoulder and leaving you and Matthias alone. 

Matthias watched your eyes bore holes in the back of Kaz’s head as he limped over the ridge and out of sight. Finally, you turned back to face him. Usually your eyes were nothing but loathsome pits when you looked at him. Matthias couldn’t be sure if he imagined it, but he swore he saw a flicker of something like gratitude in your face. You opened your mouth and inhaled, ready to speak, but no words came out. Your mouth snapped close, and you looked up at Matthias with a strange flurry of emotion. Then, with a small nod of your head, you turned on your heel and followed Kaz. 

It was the first time Matthias could remember that you’d wasted an opportunity to goad him. And the first time you could remember when Matthias had been something other than a thorn in your side.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

“What did Brekker mean by ‘someone else will suffer the consequences’?” 

You barely looked up from the rabbit you were skinning from across the fire.

“What are you talking about, Druska?” Your new nickname for Matthias. He supposed it was a bit better than druskelle, although you still sounded like you were hexing him every time you spoke. 

“A few months ago. After the glass factory job.”

Recognition dawned on your face, but you didn’t respond. 

“Kaz told you to step in line or someone else w-”

“I remember,” you interrupted him, an edge of irritation in your voice. “After I threatened to burn the skin off your bones.”

Matthias chuckled. “The very same.”

You still kept silent, studiously avoiding his gaze, although he didn’t miss the violent way you stabbed the skinned rabbit carcass with the spit.

Matthias opened his mouth to press the matter further, but something about the cold glitter in your eyes stopped him. The two of you hadn’t spoken about that day since, although there had been a noticeable change between the two of you. Matthias wouldn’t go so far as to say you were friends. More like non-combative work associates. He figured it was an improvement over borderline murderous adversaries, and he realized he wasn’t willing to risk going back to the way things were. 

Befuddled by his own reaction, Matthias shrugged, resolved to drop it. 

You spoke so quietly he thought he’d imagined it at first. 

“He’s talking about my sister.” Your eyes wide and glassy, the fire dancing in your pupils. 

Matthias froze, too shocked to know what to say back. Thankfully, you seemed content to fill the silence. 

“Kaz lets her work at the Crow Club in exchange for my services. She’s… she can’t get a lot of jobs. Any jobs, really. On account of the… scars.” You swallowed thickly, tamping down a lump in your throat and swiping away the tears that pooled on your lash line. 

Feeling compelled to speak, Matthias blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

“What scars?” 

For half a moment, he wondered if you would launch yourself at his throat from across the fire. Normally, the two of you didn’t make small talk, even when you were alone on missions - which had been happening a lot, recently. His question stepped over small talk into the realm of personal. 

For the second time in as many minutes, he was shocked at your vulnerable response. 

“The burns,” you choked out. “We were little… my parents had just figured out I was Grisha. We were playing… she pulled on my hair, yanked some of it out. I just… lost control. I just meant to scare her. Not to hurt her. Just to get her to leave me alone… but… I burned her.”

Matthias could barely breathe, his heart thundering in his chest. He watched as tears slipped loose from your eyes, trailing down your cheeks and dripping off your jaw onto the dirt.

You ignored them, the words falling out of your mouth like water bursting through a dam. 

“The burns are… extensive. All over her face, neck. Her arms. There’s nothing wrong with her, she can still do everything you and I can. Her eyesight’s a little worse, but for the most part. She’s OK. It’s just… people look at her and they don’t know what to do. They think she’s a monster. We were banished from our village. Our neighbors said she was marked by demons. Some of them figured out it was me. That I burned her. So they called me a demon. My parents… they did their best, but they didn’t know anything about Grisha. They’d never left Fjerda before.”

Matthias sucked in a breath, his chest tight like a winch. 

“You’re Fjerdan?” 

You looked up at him like you were coming out of a daze. As if he were seeing you for the first time, he noticed the proud way you held your chin. Your fearlessness. The streak of loyalty you had, the duty to protect those around you, even the ones you hated. How he had not seen it before?

“Yes. I am.” 

Your words hung in the air like smoke. Matthias felt his feelings for you turn upside down, a strange and unwelcome feeling of affection blossoming in his chest. Eager to bat it away, he scrambled for something to say, anything. 

“I never knew that.”

You chuckled darkly, rolling your eyes.

“I know, Druska. I wanted it that way. Fjerda was… not kind to me.” 

Matthias nodded, unable to find a suitable response. He’d been raised to hate Grisha, to hunt them like the dogs he’d been told they were. He’d never stopped to consider the person behind the Small Science. 

“So… your sister and you, are you close?” 

You shook your head, that coldness flaring to life in your eyes again. 

“No. She hates me. Disowned me as soon as she was old enough to live on her own. My parents weren’t too far behind her. They never forgave me for what I did to her.” 

You trailed off, only the crackling fire filling the silence for a few breaths. Matthias waited, watching you thoughtfully as you turned the roasting rabbit on its spit.

“I look after her. From a distance. I traded my service as an Inferni with Brekker for her employment. So she wouldn’t have to resort to… other professions, to make a living for herself. It’s the least I can do.”

Matthias felt a second surge of affinity towards you. The pieces began to fit together for him: the reason you resented him so vehemently; the reason Kaz was able to blackmail you so easily; the way you fought with the kind of recklessness that only comes from not truly minding if you live or die. 

“Sounds like she is lucky to have you,” he offered.

You quirked one corner of your lips at him in a sarcastic smirk. “Lucky? Luck has nothing to do with it. One of the first things you learn as a Grisha.”

Matthias snorted, shaking his head. You narrowed your eyes at him in question. “That’s not a Grisha lesson, Firedrake,” he told you, using the nickname he’d given you in exchange for ‘Druska’. “That’s a Fjerdan lesson. Only the strong survive. And the strongest save us all. Your sister, she sounds strong. She survived. But you? You have saved her. That makes you the strongest.” 

You looked at him across the fire, deep in thought as he watched you take in his words. He could tell you wanted to argue, but for some reason you didn’t. After a few moments, you tipped your head back and laughed. It broke the tension, and Matthias found himself laughing alongside you. For the first time since he’d met you, Matthias wondered if the two of you might actually grow to be friends. 

“Druska, did I miss the part where you suddenly turned so likeable?”

He felt a warm flush spread across his cheeks. Grateful for the dim light, he ducked his head down, both of you still chortling. 

“Funny what happens when you stop threatening to burn the skin from my bones, isn’t it?” 

You smiled, showing your teeth for once. Matthias returned the grin, his heart doing an unfamiliar twirl in his chest. That’s new, he thought to himself. 

“I guess it is, Druska. I guess it is…” 

For the first time since the two of you had met, neither of you slept uneasily that night…

#matthias helvar #matthias helvar x you #matthias helvar x reader #matthias helvar x y/n #matthias helvar imagine #matthias helvar requests #shadow and bone #shadow and bone requests #shadow and bone imagine #calahan skogman

[forgetminot]

Sharing Cigarettes.

✿ Arthur Morgan x gn reader ✿

Warnings : Both Arthur and reader smoking, fluff, tiny tiny bit of angst if you blink, reader is sarcastic and blunt (just like our man, he's a bad influence)

Author's Note : I love him

Summary : You and Arthur share a cigarette by the lake.

You make your way through the forest; the faint glow from the moon shines through the cracks in the trees and lights up the dirt path ahead of you. The only sounds that can be heard are the snapping of twigs and the rustle of leaves as you walk. You continue along the small trail and push the stray branches away with your hands as you step out onto the pebbled beach.

"Took you long enough, thought you got lost." You roll your eyes slightly at the gruff voice and make your way across the beach towards the faint glow in front of you.

"You could have waited." You mumble, raising your brow as the man shrugs.

"Would have been sat waitin' a while."

"You are so annoying." You groan, reaching out and snatching the lit cigarette from his hand.

"Don't you have your own damn cigarettes?" He protests.

"Sharing is caring, Arthur." You smile as you lift the smoke to your lips. He mumbles something quietly under his breath as you inhale deeply. "What's put you in such a mood?" You tease.

"You, for starters."

"Wow, I'm hurt." You smile, taking the cigarette and holding it out towards Arthur.

"Just Dutch driving me crazy, is all." He responds as he takes his cigarette back from you.

"Dutch is always driving everyone crazy, doesn't usually put you in such a bad mood." You move to lean beside Arthur, the rock digging into your back uncomfortably.

"He seems more... Out of it, than usual."

"In what way?" You question, turning to face him as he blows smoke into the air.

"You haven't noticed?" Arthur asks as he hands you back his cigarette and you take it with a smile.

"I mean, I guess?" You sigh. "I don't know, I think everyone is feeling that way lately."

"You not feeling the best?"

"Don't get me wrong, I love everyone in camp." You laugh quietly to yourself. "Let's just say... it's nice to have some alone time, like we are right now."

"So you like my company?" Arthur teases.

"Suppose you are okay to be around." You joke back as you blow a cloud of smoke in his direction, earning a small glare in return.

"Now my feelings are hurt." He mocks, placing his palm against his chest.

"I'm sure you will get over it." You look down at the cigarette between your fingers. "Do you have another?" You ask as you motion to the nearly dull one.

"No." He replies casually.

"No? Well aren't you useful." You tut sarcastically.

"I wasn't plannin' on sharing" He mutters as he swipes the cigarette from your hand.

"Hey! Didn't Dutch ever teach you it's rude to steal." You grin as you reach out.

"Quite the opposite, actually." He jokes, tilting his head back against the rock as he holds his cigarette up into the air.

"Shari-"

"Sharing is caring." He mocks, lifting the cigarette higher from your grasp. "Go on, You can do it!" He cheers.

"I hate you." You laugh as you hit him lightly across his chest.

"Thought I was, okay to be around?" He repeats your words as you move back to your previous spot against the rock.

"I sometimes wonder why I enjoy your presence."

"So now you enjoy bein' around me?" He smiles widely as you groan and passes you back the cigarette.

"Thank you." You mumble.

"What was that?" He laughs gently as you ignore his question and inhale another drag.

"You ever gone night fishing?" You ask out of the blue.

"I ain't the best when it comes to fishing." He mentions, gazing out onto the lake.

"I know that. That's not what I asked." You grin cheekily.

"Why are you asking?" He questions, taking back the cigarette once more.

"Because I want to go fishing." You state bluntly.

"Go fishing then." He responds- just as bluntly as you.

"Not much fun to go on my own."

"Ask Hosea." He suggests.

"Hosea isn't here, you fool." You step forwards from the rock and cross your arms against your chest as you stare back at Arthur.

"Fine, I'll come fishing with you." He sighs, dropping the smoke into the sand and stomping it out with his boot.

"Ain't like your going to be doing much, you wont catch anything." You Jest, smiling to yourself as you head towards the lake.

"Is that a challenge?" He laughs faintly as he follows after you.

"It will be an easy challenge." You grin.

"You have no idea what you are getting yourself into." He chuckles as you both stop at the shoreline.

"Oh it's on, Morgan."

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption 2 arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x gn reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader #reader insert #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #gn reader #gender neutral reader #arthur morgan fluff #red dead redemption fluff #rdr2 fluff #i want to share a cigarette with him :( #i don't even smoke #that wouldnt stop me

[lilgantsu]

Help I'm stuck!

Author's note: it's been years since i wrote something again! Sorry if its all over the place. Enjoy!

pervert!stepbro!simon x bimbo!stepsis!reader

Simon is home from deployment he just could not help but still visit you.

Then he saw you, ass up in the air, wearing a cute little sundress, a thong that barely covers your pussy. You're stuck in between your queen size lift up bed.

"Help me! Is some home? Mom?"

"Its me sweet cheeks"

You let out a gasp trying to cover some kind of decency you have left.

"How long have you been standing there! Please help me I'm stuck"

Ghost knelt down, and rubbed your ass making your hands fall down on you sides to support your weight.

"I will, don't worry" spreading you ass and pussy wide. Your pussy tightening on nothing, already dripping. Earning a moan from you and absent minded wiggling your ass a little bit grazing his crotch.

"You can't do that, you're my brother!" Wiggling your ass some more, attempting to remove his hands away

"Well how am I supposed to help you, if I can't touch you" Slapping and fondling your ass lightly. The slight fondly and teasing is making you really wet. Its been a long time since someone played and teased you like this.

"I'll get you out promise"

He tugged the front of your dress, "trying" to pull you out but in the process making you spill your tits.

"Pull baby" you tried to pull yourself off but greeted with Ghost's crotch. Humping your barely clothed pussy. And that left a wet spot in his khaki pants. His hands left the dress and grabbed your tits, on his other hand rested on the mound of your pussy curling his fingers a little bit, scratching and teasing your swollen clit.

At this point you can't thinks straight, his hands are all over you, teasing you nipples with his fingers rubbing them back and forth, the with his nail earning more moans from you. His other hand grabbed the back of your soaked underwear and pulling it up, stretching the fabric making it rub on your swollen clit every time you move.

"Please, don't, stop"

"What are you trying to say baby please dont, stop or dont stop? And for someone who's trying to stop me, you sure are enjoying this, rocking your hips like a damn dog" pulling your nipples harder making you yelp a little bit.

He just love to tease you. Ghost moved your soaked panties to the side, his fingers playing with your pussy playing with your folds and clit. "All this for me baby" inserting his fingers in your pussy. "Holy shit baby listen to this" curling his fingers making squelching sounds. Rubbing your inside toying your g-spot now.

"Si something is coming please stop! I'm gonna pee." Your hips are now shamelessly rocking back and fort. His other fingers went in and abused your little clit some more, he pulled his mask up for a moment and he spit on our ass, then his mouth went in and lick your ass to you pussy.

"Let it out baby" making your legs shake and squirt all over your floors, "oh fuck baby" his hands never leaving your g-spot and clit. "If you can see my face right now baby its soaked, come on baby ride my face"

"Si please" bucking your hips to ride his fingers and face his nose bumping on your ass making you feel so dirty but also slutty. Humping you step brother's face and soaking him with you juices.

He took pity at your state, lifted up the bed and carried you, and throwing you on it not caring if the pillows goes disarray. Ghost unzipped his pants, grabbed a pillow and put it under your hips.

You might have blacked out for bit, the next thing you know something big is entering you. That sweet delicious feeling the first time feeling a cock enters you. You can't help but moan and grabbed his face and kissed him. Smearing your juices on you face. The kiss was dirty hurried and slutty.

Then ghost starter to thrust his hips, the thrust was so good it made you crossed your eyes a little bit. But you're still trying to cover yourself buy trying to cover you tits with you arms and closing your eyes.

Ghost clicks his tongue grabbing you hands above your head, locking you in place leaving you more exposed, your tits bouncing from the hard and slow thrust he's giving you. "Look at me, I'll stop if you close your eyes baby"

You tried so hard to maintain the eye contact, you're a moaning mess when it come to Simon. You wanted to please him for so long, trying to earn his approval but you're always end up making a fool of yourself.

"Shit baby I'm close, your pussy feels so good, c'mon baby tighten that pussy for me, you're my good girl right" rubbing your clit again. Bringing you so close to the edge again. "Oh is my little baby gonna come again? Make a mess for me"

After you came for the 2nd time, Ghost pulled out and jacked off, cumming on you stomach making a mess out of you again. Ghost was panting so hard but he pulled your panties off you. Cleaned off his cum with it, wiping your tummy, and the top of your pussy and something shocking was entering you pussy again.

He was stuffing you with your panties! The process was slow he's taking his time stuffing your panties in you leaving just a little bit of portion hanging out. You're looking at him dumbfounded and horny again.

"Keep you panties here okay" straightening your dress. Helping you to stand up.

"Bend over for me princess" you bend down on your hands to your bed you know ghost can see your bare pussy stuffed with soiled panties.

"Good girl"

#ghost x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #cod mw2 #pervy!ghost

[blu-joons]

When He Notices You Having Trouble Walking The Morning After ~ Ateez Reaction

Seonghwa:

“Y/N,” Seonghwa chuckled as he watched you walk around the room and across to your wardrobe, your steps slow, barely lifting your foot off of the ground as you moved.

You tried your best to ignore Seonghwa, concentrating on getting an outfit ready for work when he called out your name again. “I’m trying to get sorted, what do you want Seonghwa?”

“You just look to be struggling a bit.”

Your head snapped back to look at him, shooting a glare in his direction. “Now try saying that without sounding incredibly smug about what’s happening to me.”

“I can’t,” Seonghwa immediately admitted, “you can’t show up to work like this though.”

Your shoulders shrugged in reply to Seonghwa, “what choice do I have? I’ve got an hour to come up with an excuse before I walk into my office.”

“Why do you need an excuse?” Seonghwa quizzed, “why can’t you just confidently walk in and tell them that your boyfriend rocked your world?”

Your head shook straight away, “because he’s smug enough without people hearing that too.”

“I can’t help but enjoy this Y/N.”

Hongjoong:

“Do you want to come back to bed?” Hongjoong asked you, finally stirring to see that you were already up and about on your feet, even if you were a little wobbly.

At the sound of his voice, you looked around, shaking your head in reply to his question. “Why would I want to come back to bed?” You quizzed, carrying on with what you were doing.

“Are you not in any pain right now?”

A lump ran down your throat as you felt Hongjoong still watching you. “Is it really that obvious?” You nervously asked, groaning when Hongjoong’s head nodded.

“Pretty obvious,” he weakly smiled, “it was the first thing that I noticed about you.”

A heavy sigh came from you, sitting down at the end of the bed. “This is your fault,” you told him, pushing your hands against Hongjoong’s feet.

“How was I supposed to know that this would happen?” He innocently smiled, “it’s not as if I knew you’d struggle to walk this morning.”

Your eyes rolled as he defended himself, “if you hadn’t had been like you were, it’s your fault.”

“Nice try, but this is on you.”

Yunho:

“You’re struggling to walk,” Yunho laughed as your head continued to shake, trying your best to move around the house with Yunho following your every move behind you.

You could hear in his voice how desperate he was to get the satisfaction, refusing to give it to him. “I’m not struggling to walk; it’s just taking my body a little bit of time to wake up.”

“That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard.”

You turned around and pushed against Yunho’s arm, “haven’t you got somewhere to be? What time are you due at the studio, it better be pretty soon.”

“I can’t go,” he shrugged, “I’ve got to look after you instead this morning.”

Your brows knitted together in reply to Yunho, “I don’t need looking after, I’m perfectly fine, I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

“So, if I was to push you right now, you’d be fine?” Yunho teased, resting his hand gently against the top of your arm to nudge you.

You stepped away from Yunho’s grip, “alright, so maybe I am a little bit uncomfortable today.”

“A little bit? Are you sure?”

Yeosang:

“Y/N, why don’t you come back to bed?” Yeosang offered, tapping the space where you had just gotten up from. “You don’t need to go anywhere today.”

Your head shook as you continued to try your best to walk, despite the pain. “I’ve got things to do Yeosang, for starters I’m supposed to be at work, I’m already running late.”

“What if we tell them that you’re ill?”

Your head snapped around to shoot a glare back across at him, “you want me to pull a sickie because I’m in pain after last night? That makes no sense.”

“What’s the alternative?” He challenged, “go into work and have people stare?”

Your shoulders dropped as you realised how good of a point Yeosang made. “This is a one time thing, there is no way that we’re making this a habit.”

“Stay in bed,” Yeosang encouraged, beckoning you over again. “I mean you’re in pain, it’s a kind of sick, right?”

Your head nodded back across at him, “does that mean that you’ll look after me then?”

“I walked right into that one.”

San:

“Is there anything that I can do to help?” San enquired, wrapping his arm around your frame so that he could help you to walk around the bedroom to get sorted.

Your head shook as you managed to lean forwards and open your wardrobe. “I think it’s a little bit too late for your help, don’t you think? Your help has got me in this position.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

You nudged your hip against San’s before pulling out an outfit for the day. “Last night I didn’t exactly think that this would be how I’d end up the following morning.”

“I’m sorry,” San weakly smiled, “I can’t help but feel partly responsible.”

Your eyes rolled at his admission, “partly responsible? You’re the one who wanted to carry on, the one who decided he wanted to try something new.”

“But you didn’t have to agree,” he smartly responded, unable to stop himself from teasing you, “you said yes Y/N.”

You hummed back across at him, “you have no idea how much I wish I’d said no now though.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t turn back time.”

Mingi:

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Mingi repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, with you telling him to stop laughing at your pain as you laid back down beside him.

Your head tilted to look across at him with a blank expression on your face. “I wish that you could feel the pain that I’m feeling right now, instead you’re just on top of the world.”

“After last night, of course I am.”

You let go of a sigh at how smug Mingi was about how good he was feeling. “I’m glad that you’re feeling ready to get up on your feet and crack on with the day.”

“I can help you,” Mingi offered, “I can carry you around for a little while.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition before having to shake your head. “You’re going to carry me around all day? Do you know how busy my day is?”

“I said for a while,” Mingi swiftly reminded you, “I don’t think your boss would be a fan of me carrying you around.”

You nodded in agreement with him, “my boss won’t be happy when I tell him this is your fault.”

“Maybe skip a few of the details though.”

Wooyoung:

“Y/N,” Wooyoung chuckled as he watched you try and make your way around the room, resisting the urge to pick up his phone and record you as you stumbled.

Your head shook at the excitement that was in Wooyoung’s voice. “This is your fault, my pain and suffering is all thanks to you, I hope the guilt of that sits well with you.”

“How’s any of this my fault?”

Your eyes widened as you just managed to turn around and look across at Wooyoung. “I told you that I was tired and that you needed to be careful last night.”

“I was careful,” he defended, “or at least I thought I was careful at the time.”

Your head continued to shake as a giggle escaped from Wooyoung. “You know, most boyfriends would be full of concern at their partner’s pain.”

“I am concerned,” Wooyoung sheepishly smiled, “but that is far outweighed by how funny this is for me right now.”

Your eyes shut as you took a deep breath, “I am so close to coming over and beating you up.”

“You’d have to hobble to get me first.”

Jongho:

“What do I do?” Jongho nervously asked as you let go of a groan, dropping back down onto the bed almost as soon as you stood up, struggling with the pain that you felt.

Your shoulders shrugged as you looked across at Jongho with a pained expression. “I don’t know what either of us do, I’ve never had to deal with a pain like this before Jongho.”

“Should I go and get some ice?”

Your head shook, reaching across and hitting against his leg. “I don’t think this is the sort of pain that calls for ice. I don’t think I’ve sprained anything; I hope.”

“Maybe I could get you some pain relief tablets?” He offered, “will that help?”

You shrugged again, letting go of another huff. “Anything is worth a try at this point. What were we even doing to end up like this Jongho?”

“What do you mean we?” He teased in reply, “I don’t know about you, but I am feeling absolutely fine after last night.”

You reached across and hit against him once again, “it’s alright for some not being in any pain.”

“Sorry, I’ll go and get some tablets now.”

---

Masterlist

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez reaction #ateez scenario #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #seonghwa imagine #hongjoong imagine #yunho imagine #yeosang imagine #san imagine #mingi imagine #wooyoung imagine #jongho imagine #seonghwa #hongjoong #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez drabble #ateez one shot #ateez fluff #kpop #kpop imagine

[stuckymonkey]

Kinktober Day 2: Anal

Stucky

word count - 0.5k

a/n - day 2 of kinktober!! ahh!! i love these boys and i hope you do too! enjoy!

"Steve." Bucky called to the fleeting blonde. "No." "Steve, get back here!" Bucky walked out of Steve's bedroom and to their living room. "Hey! Stevie! Listen when I'm talking to you!" That made Steve stop in his tracks.

The blond boy was clad in nothing other than socks and a big white shirt. "Stevie? It's okay baby." "No, it's not." The blonde's cheeks heated up at the pet name. He was completely and utterly embarrassed, having been caught by Bucky with two of his fingers, knuckle deep inside his tight ass.

"Baby, it brings you pleasure. There's no shame in that. You know how many times I've had mine up my ass? Wondering how good it would feel to be stuffed full of ya?" He peered down at his boyfriend.

"Steve," He groaned impatiently. "Look at me." using two fingers he lifted Steve's chin up so his eyes met Bucky's. "That's my good boy." He blushed.

"See, if you had talked to me about this, I could'a helped you a lot sooner pal." he said softly. "Oh yeah? How's that?" Snarked Steve.

"Well for starters I could've stuffed your ass, but it seems you've already got a pretty big stick perched up there." "Cut it out," Steve hissed, swatting Bucky away when he tried to caress his shoulder.

Later that night it was time for bed, and the embarrassment from earlier still hadn't washed off of Steve. They settled under the covers, holding each other close. For a moment, Steve thought he was in the clear and Bucky was going to forget about the whole thing.

A part of him didn't want that though. What would happen if he allowed himself the pleasure he so desperately wanted from his more than capable boyfriend?

He was on the verge of sleep, succumbing to the warmth and comfort of Bucky's embrace when he felt a hand that was once around his waist sneak down to his ass. Steve tensed as Bucky's wandering fingers moved past the waistband of his pajama pants and boxers. "Buck-" "Shhh, it's all right baby." He squeezed at the flesh of Steve's ass before bringing his fingers out to lube them up with spit.

Bucky let his fingers dive back into Steve's pjs, this time circling the tight rim of his hole. "B-buck," "You want this, right Stevie?" He asked, already knowing the answer. "Y-yeah," "Good, then let me take care of you," Bucky littered kisses all over the smaller boy's neck, tongue soothing over love bites and purple marks that he had created.

His finger entered Steve's tight muscle, prodding in further and further until he was knuckle deep. Steve moaned at the feeling, his cock throbbing in pleasure and need. "God, Buck, keep going," Steve encouraged, letting Bucky start thrusting his finger in and out, hitting Steve's delicious g-spot with every stroke.

"Buckyyyyy," He moaned, encouraging the brunette to add a second finger. "Oh God, holy shit Bucky," Steve's hips started moving back and forth, gaining pleasure from both Bucky's fingers in his ass and the way his cock rubbed against Bucky's leg.

"Bucky Bucky Bucky! Ahhh! Shit, Buck, keep going!" "Good job Stevie, riding my fingers so well," Bucky praised. The blond let out a strangled moan as his hips sped up, grinding himself harder and harder.

"That's it Stevie, there you go, let go for me, cum for me baby," "Fuck- baby, gonna cum!" Steve's release painted his pants as he came with a cry, still moving his hips, riding out the waves of pleasure.

His hips slowed to a dull rocking, eventually coming to a stop so Bucky could remove his fingers. "See? Nothing to be embarrassed about," Bucky said, kissing him sloppily on the lips.

Ahhh! I loved writing this, I've never written this kind of thing before but I have wanted to for a long time!! I hope you all enjoyed!!

#marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu #mcu #bucky barnes #stucky #steve x bucky #steve x bucky smut #kinktober

[forcechoosen]

    “Mercy is for the weak.”

#Anakin Skywalker; Starters #Lifting Rocks; Starters

[tubbybunnysblog]

Measurement Day

This is my very first collab! And I’m so it’s with the very talented @mortiskiller we used they same starter to create two new stories enjoy!

Fem feedee/ non gendered feeder

Cw: light choking, weigh gain mentioned and struggling.

I sat on the couch, huffing my belly which is completely overfed and sat on my thighs heavily. Since I woke up this morning, I had been eating, it started out with waffles and eggs and bacon and of course, my morning weight gain shake. Then it was wings for lunch covered in sauce and served with fries with another shake, and then dinner was almost an entire pot of creamy pasta that I knew was filled to the brim with extra butter. I run my hands up and down the sides of my belly, trying to soothe my aching gut when I hear my feeder’s voice “Alright fatass stand up” I look up to see my feeder standing there with a measuring tape. “W-what?” My lip quivered as they clenched their jaw. “I said stand up, it's measurement day.” They spoke through gritted teeth.

Their voice sent shivers down my spine I had completely forgotten about it, and now they were standing in front of me, expecting me to stand up when I could hardly breathe. I was so full. “don’t you think I could wait a little bit?” my face goes red as they lean down in front of me wrapping there a long hand gently around my neck. “What is the piggy princess too big to stand up?” They purr tracing my bulging double chin with their thumb. “N-no I’m just really full but I can do it.” They step back and cross their arms. “Then do it. Go on.”

I put my hands down on each side of me and push-up through my sausage fingers. I puff as my chubby arms didn’t have enough strength to lift my flabby ass. I start to rock back-and-forth, trying to get enough momentum. I begin to wheeze as no matter how much energy I exerted I was just too full. “I can’t…” I look back up to my feeder and see them smirking at me “alright give me your hands tubby.” I reach for their hands and grab them, despite my arms being weighed down by my bingo wings. “brace yourself.” I whine as they pull me to my feet stepping back as I wobble to gain my balance.

I let them lead me to the bathroom which was already set up with everything else. My knees wobble, as I step onto the scale. “what does it say?” it’s been along time since I’ve been able to see the number from behind my huge gut. They smile as they look at the number “very good baby 536 pounds you’ve gained 15 in just over a week someone’s been greedy haven’t we?” I blush, smiling as they run their hand over my stretch mark covered belly. “I mean it’s obvious from blush on your face and they wetness down here that you’ve been stuffing yourself for me.” I shiver weak in the knees as they whisper in my ear. I could feel their hands wrapping the measuring tape around me. Their hands felt like heaven on my fat. For months they had been making me swell perfectly by engineering food to make sure that I gained as much weight as possible. I couldn’t help but imagine them, bending me over a cake. And brought out of my Daydreaming as the gasp “what?!” I look at them nervously “ looks like someone has outgrown the measuring tape~” They growl into my ear. “Go sit back down we need to celebrate~”

#feedee belly #feedee feeder #feedee encouragement #feeding kink #feedist #feed me #fatty #fat piggy #dark feederism #fat rolls #feederism writing #feedee perspective #feedee writing

[enigma-im]

Changes (Turn and Face the Stranger)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Orc X Female!Human Warning: Strong Language, Near death, Robin Hood rip-off

Word Count: 3,821

Captured by a very handsome Orc, Alice has to convince him of her cause before her day to hang. Can she swing this big oof to her side before it's too late?

_________________________________________

"commander Irek Fells," he greets with the deepest voice I ever heard," Is this Alice Belmond?" I stare up at the large man, seeing him tower over everyone with his broad chest, thick arms, and great stature. His face seems to be stuck in a permeant scowl like he never smiled a day in his life. A deep scar splits the right side of his face over his eye down to his jaw. His tusks are banded with gold at the base. He is a terrifying man, and the effect he has on all the guards around is evident.

"Y-yes," the captain clears his throat," Yes. Alice Belmond the woman who has successfully robbed three of our deliveries to the capital. Each guarded with our toughest men but she bested 'em on every turn."

While the captain boasted my efforts I watch as the orc's jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth, his brow furrowed into his eyes. Even in a casual conversation such as this he looks pissed as hell. The others standing behind seemed to be rattling in their boots. Which is understandable, this behemoth of a man could take on all of them with his hands behind his back. Crush their skulls with just his thighs.

As I gawk at him he catches my eye. He sneers before crouching down to my level-which is a feat in itself- and gets into my face.

"You have committed crimes against the king and the capital, what do you say in your defense, human?"

I stare into his eyes with my own open wide and my mouth slightly parted. This close I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks. I can see the puckered scar over his eye. My heart beats wildly in my chest; my palms are sweaty, shoulders stiff, and butterflies in my stomach. I feel words escape me, falling off the tip of my tongue. I have to say something, so I spew out the first thing I can.

"fuck, you're hot."

Well, that was an awful thing to say.

--

Captured, thrown into the carriage like a dog. I guess big scary commander Fells doesn't like compliments. It's not my fault really, I have that rare condition called 'no filter from brain to mouth'. It's truly fatal, with no cure in sight. It's really his fault for being so damn sexy in front of me, with my condition I was doomed from the start.

I huff, blowing the hair out of my face. I wince as the carriage rocks a bit too hard on a rock, my hands tugging on the chains. They couldn't at least invest in some leather to wrap around these things? The person who made these never had to be in them I guess.

I sit up to look out the window, watching as we pass the gates into the castle. I roll my eyes at the grand façade that is the royal guards. A bunch of goody-goodies, never had to work more than lifting a sword in their life. Which is why it was so easy to rob them blind. Well, not this time I suppose, but I blame the commander. He isn't like the rest of them, first off being an orc. Sure there are a few amongst the soldiers that aren't afflicted with the human genome, but he is almost a whole different game altogether. For starters being so damn gorgeous. I snort before falling back on my ass to await the dribble that will be the next few hours.

"Where is the rest of your group," an angry human demands for the umpteenth time. I wiggle back and forth on my chair, checking out the rest of the room with way more interest than I give this conversation.

"Pass," I tease, rocking back on two legs of the chair. The man growls, like some sort of caveman. These guys can't even bother with a please or thank you. So rude.

"Do you even understand what kind of trouble you are in," the guy tries to bait," You are in the middle of being sentenced. The death penalty has been out on you for going on a year. You are just rat food waiting to happen, so just spill it and maybe we will make it quick."

I snort, "Fat chance."

He punches the table, storming off like a child. The door slams behind him and I'm left to my own devices once more. I'm not too worried about these losers. In a week, my group would have made a plan and be in the middle of busting me out of this 2-star hotel. I bounce on the two legs, glancing around without a care. There is nothing these guys can do to shake me.

The door is swung open again, I turn to greet the poor fool who is tasked with me.

"Alice Belmond," Commander Fells greets. I'm caught off guard for the second time today as I fall onto my back. The chair had slipped out from beneath me as I push against the table too hard. Irek huffs as I groan in pain.

"I swear I'm more graceful than this," I grumble as I try to wiggle myself forward.

"I'm sure," he answers as he grabs the back of my chair and lifts me up. I catch a whiff of his earthy scent, good god what this man could do to me.

I'm righted and only mildly embarrassed. Commander Fells sits across from me, his rough hands sitting clasped on top of the table. Those are working hands, not like the last guy who was here. Such prissy little mama's boy hands.

"Where is your group hiding," he cuts to the chase.

"Damn, no foreplay? I knew something had to be wrong with you," I tease. His jaw clenches minutely

"Where is your cargo kept," he asks.

"At your mom's house, I haven't seen her in a while. Does she miss me," I prod. He takes a breath before continuing,

"Who is giving you information on our routes," he doesn't move a tick this time. I want to copy his posture, all straight and no bullshit. If only my hands were free, perhaps a bargaining chip?

"Release my hands and I'll tell you," I offer with a playful grin.

"Alright," he answers as he stands. I'm startled, staring up at him skeptically. This is some sort of trick, I'm sure of it. Maybe some good cop, bad cop shenanigans. He pulls a set of keys from his belt, holding my chains to unlock them. The cuffs fall with a loud bang to the dirt floor. I slowly bring my arms forward, watching him closely as he sits across from me.

He cocks a brow, "Think you can fight me to the door?". I'm almost caught off guard by the joke, I can't even bother to fight back the smile. He won't even offer one in return though. He is back in his original position, all business and no bullshit.

"Dekon Woodsmith," I offer in good faith. I couldn't give a damn who they find to be the dirty rat of the kingdom, I have at least 5 more. The king isn't well-liked and most people are more than eager to join a cause that can help their families that are hurt most by it. Besides, Dekon has his own informants to help him in case of this exact situation. I just got to give him some extra sweets as an apology.

"Where is your team," he asks next. I huff at the lack of reaction to my answer. Just straight business.

I lean forward on my hands, "Are you always business, you ever had a vacation?"

"Where is your group hiding," he asks instead. I roll my eyes and lean back into my chair.

"A nice spa day would do you some good. I'm sure there is some big muscle lady who can work those knots out in no time," I tease.

"Why have you betrayed your kingdom," he asks next. I chuckle at such a ridiculous question. Who is this guy?

I cross my arms, "my kingdom? What a ridiculous thing! This isn't MY kingdom, he isn't my king. What a load of shit."

"Watch your tone," he threatens," you must be loyal to our king."

"Loyal, to him? What another crock of shit," I turn and spit," That man is but a rich child given the powers of a god. What has he done for me? For his people? I spent all last week helping HIS people and I don't get any respect. Perhaps if I sit around doing fuck all I too can get a line of men ready to do my dirty work. Get bent."

I can't even bother to look at him for such a dumb demand. Loyal to the king, what a fuckin tool. Ireks tries to get more but understands the conversation is over as I stonewall him. He leaves the room shortly, and another guard funnels in to chain me up and escort me out.

As I pass by the Commander I give a snide comment," Perhaps your loyalties blind you for only a fool would worship a selfish creature like him."

-- I toss a ball I found at the wall for the millionth time. Perhaps I should have made our check-in dates sooner than a week. I'm so bored here! I need some excitement, some drama. Maybe a little bit of that hunky commander. Just to see, I don't need him to speak. When he talks it's all ruined…well, almost.

The rubber ball hits the stone wall. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Dear god end this suffering!

The rusted-over door at the end of the hall screeched open. Good god, they need some maintenance in here. 1/10 stars for this abode. Steps echo down until it stops at my gate. I turn to the side to get a proper look at my guest.

"Commander Irek Fells," I forgo catching the ball for raising my arms in the air," Welcome to my humble home away from home!"

"I have questions for you," he grumbles, clearly not entertained by my antics. I sit up in my bed, resting my forearms on my knees.

"Only if I can ask you a few questions," I shoot back. He rolls his eyes, turning to pace the space in front of my prison.

With a wave of his hand, he answers, "As you wish."

"No shit," I asked genuinely surprised," Oh man, um… Do you have a girlfriend?"

He tosses a look at me, an interesting smirk just peaking at the ends of his lips. "Pass," he answers," Where are you from?"

I mope for a moment, resting my chin in my palm. "No fun, I didn't know we could just veto questions."

He shrugs, "You started it."

"alright wise guy, I'm Exeter. A little fishing town by Paddlefoot," I answer.

"I know of it, you're pretty far from home then."

"There is this amazing thing called 'carriages', they can take you from one place to another," I poke back.

He shakes his head, "What started you on this line of thievery if you are from a fishing town, not a family trade I hope?"

"Uh-uh, it's my turn, big guy," I wag my finger at him," What do you do for fun?"

"Whittling. My question is the same, what started you on this line of thievery?"

Whittling, how cute.

"I knew a guy who knew a guy who was screwed over by a king. What do you whittle?"

"Animals, fish mostly. How was the man 'screwed over'?"

"Good old fashion taxes and beatings," I give a solute in mock respect," Why did you join the royal guard?"

"Had to. What do you do with the stolen goods?"

I smirk at the question," Donations", I wait for his reply to that.

He is just as confused as I hoped he would be," Donations?"

" To the screwed-over friends I make," I cock my head to the side, eagerly awaiting his retort.

"People screwed over by the king," he asks, finally stopping his pacing.

"Bingo."

He rolls his eyes," filthy little gutter rats. The king has nothing to do with your screwed-up little lives."

"says the orc living in wealth," I snort. His jaw ticks again, that wonderful bit of anger. "You are looking a little peeved there big guy. It does nothing good for your beautiful complexation. Try smiling a bit more."

He throws a snarl at me before walking out. I jump up to the bars, calling down to him as I reach an arm out, "Hey, it's my turn!"

The door slams with a wack and a screech. I drop my arm with a fake pout, " I guess not."

-- Today's the day I get out. There isn't much I can do with all this pent-up energy, just eager to get out of this stuffy place. The few times I've been thrown in here have been 'swell' but I can admit I will miss my little talks with Commander Sexy. Such a waste to have such a beautiful specimen wasted in this place. I was hoping to pick at his resolve and tie him to my cause but he is just damn stubborn. No matter, I'm sure our paths will cross again someday.

I bounce that damned ball against the wall again, waiting for my cue. Sunset becomes dark, and dark becomes way too late. I sit up in bed looking around. Maybe I'm too early? I stand up and look out the poor excuse of a window for any sign of my gang.

"Where are those idiots," I mumble to myself. My investigation is cut short by the damn squeaky door opening. I quickly lay back down, bouncing the ball as I await my favorite person. Even if it's a bad time, I'm always glad to catch those jeweled tusks.

I hear a group of people and the ringing of chains hitting the rocks on the ground. A cacophony of insults and cursing as a large group is tossed into a cage. I jump up, running for the bars to check what is going on. Before I can get a good look Commander Ireks blocks my view.

"Good evening," He greets with a triumphant grin. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened. For the first time since I've been here, I'm actually worried.

"You son of a bitch," I reach out to grab his shirt. He backs away with a chuckle.

"What? No handsome today," he teases. I don't like this look for him.

"I'm not finding you that appealing at the moment," I swing for another go at his shirt.

He laughs," Caught your escape plan, a bunch of bumbling idiots if you ask me."

"fuck you," I snarl," they are MY bumbling idiots!"

Irek's smile is so wide as he begins to walk away. I'm sure he feels like a million bucks right now, that won't do one bit.

"You know he is killing families," I shout," killing them on the streets like dogs!"

He pauses, glancing over his shoulder.

"He doesn't give a damn about his people if they can't fund his damn parties. How often do you hear noises from his room? A maid or two going missing, huh? Put it together you damn orc! He isn't worth this bloodshed," I nearly plead with him to pay attention. To actually get this through his head.

He grinds his teeth, glaring at me. I challenge him back, chin raised and ready for a fight. He doesn't give me the satisfaction, turning and walking away.

"That's right you run you coward," I bark out. My gang follows suit, yelling profanities and insults.

That son of a bitch

-- Today is the day. Not like before, today is the day I get sentenced. I can already feel the noose on my neck like an accursed necklace. When the guards come to grab me I can only put on a brave face. I'm paraded past my group still in their cell. They all try to reach out, shouting words of comfort to me.

The light is blinding as I'm in the summer heat. A group of wealthy aristocrats surround me as I'm marched to the platform ahead. Insults, curses, and even fruit are thrown at me. I just stand tall and walk ahead.

I slowly walk up the steps, meeting Commander Irek Fells with a stare that could kill a lesser man. He meets me with indifference. That bastard.

The hooded man guides me ahead, the noose hanging in front of me like death herself. I let out a shaky breath. It draped over my neck and I realize how utterly fucked I am. I have no tricks, no illusions, no one to save my hide. I look up at the king sitting up on his balcony like some sort of false god. I'm screwed.

Commander Ireks steps in front of me to give me my final words. I beat him to it with a snarl.

"Betray your people, to save your king. Little ass backward if you ask me," I spit. He says nothing as he steps beside me and turns to his king who begins to address his people.

The king rambles on about what a great job HE did, not his guards. The crowd eats it up like starving animals. I barely notice my hand being nudged as I try to block out these childish ramblings. I look down and see Ireks poking my hand with a wooden item. I grab it, him stepping a little ahead to block my hand. I start down at a weird angle to a whittled fish. It's cute, even painted like a salmon. Confused I look up to Commander Ireks who is still listening to the king, a small snarl trying to be hidden but his nose still curls.

Huh? Oh. OH!

A rush of hope and adrenaline fuels my blood. I dare say I'm giddy. That big lug, I definitely never doubted him. Nope, not one bit… ok maybe I tossed him aside in my mind like week-old fish. I mean, who could see this coming? Sure as hell not me. Don't get me wrong, I'm persuasive but he is stubborn.

I fight back the smile and admiration daring to cross my face. I sure hope he has a dynamite plan because I'm neck-deep in 'super fucked' right now. I have to look down as to not give anything away. I'm going to live! If it doesn't go well though, I will most certainly die. What a day to be alive.

The king finishes his speech with a roar of applause. I bite my cheek as tension consumes me. Handsome better be on my side or this fish is a cruel last moments gift. I hear the crowd go quiet as all attention is now on the gallows, the executioner making final adjustments. My heart is beating out my chest as I see him close the gap to the lever. Oh heaven, where art thou?

Ireks makes his way to the front of the gallows, ready to address the crowd. He unsheathes his sword and points it to the sky. The crowd murmurs with excitement. He lowers his sword to point at the king, a display the king meets with a confused distasteful look.

"A false god, a spoiled child," Ireks shouts to the king," You have shown your true colors behind your fancy doors"

The king stands," I don't find this charming, Ireks."

Ireks continues," You have lied to us all, flaunted your wealth as if you are untouchable."

The king points to the executioner," Begin the execution and guards, cease this Orc." I panic as the executioner lunges for the lever, it cracking slightly at the weight. He tries to pull it be it wedged just below the deck. The guards don't dare move.

"You may ask, what is a peasant to a king," Ireks says," but I say what's a king to a mob?"

The executioner clears the blockage and pulls the lever with a snarl toward me. My feet give way to the collapsing floor, weightless as I wait for the tight restriction of the rope. With a quick flourish, Ireks cuts the rope as my feet go past the wood support. I can barely scream as I fall past the floor and onto a less-than-comfy hay-covered carriage.

All hell breaks loose as I'm jerked around an open carriage being pulled by two horses. I can barely sit upright as we torpedo through town. I hear people shouting and screaming, clangs of metal as guards fight. I just get onto my belly as we pass out the gates. I look ahead to my saviors, a well-armored orc and one of my bumbling idiots.

"Trevor," I shout in glee. He turns and gives me a solute before focusing back on his task. I give a hearty laugh as I roll back onto my back.

The cart shakes as new weight is added to the back, I quickly look to my feet at the new guest. Ireks, pants as he settles into the back. His armor is in shambles, some parts missing and others greatly dented. He cradles his arm as he watches the kingdom get farther and farther away.

"You beautiful son of a bitch," I exclaim as I sit up. He turns to me with a tired grin.

"I've been called better things," he jokes. He slides over and helps remove the bindings and noose. I can't stop myself from jumping on him and kissing that big dumb face. He startles at the assault, wincing as I crush his wounded arm to his chest. Though he still finds the strength to hold me even closer and enjoy himself for what seems like the first time in his life.

"I believe you are the person I need to thank for saving my life," I rest my forehead against his. The eventful day takes its toll on us both as we finally take a breath.

"You have no idea how both difficult and easy it was to start a riot like that," He closes his eyes," I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. For right now, I earned a much-needed rest."

"That you did," I say as I guide him down to my lap. He rests his head on my thighs, being lulled by the rocking of the carriage. I lean against the wall and find myself just watching the sun over the field.

"I hope you know that there is no getting away from me now," I tease as I flick his ear. He grunts, cozying up to my stomach.

"so be it," He grumbles back. I smile and watch the passing landscape.

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

Hello! It's been a while. This story is for reaching 2k followers! that's amazing, especially since I haven't written anything since 2021. I'm not back, this is just a Thank You story. Sorry, I couldn't get an NSFW one. Work has been ongoing. Either way, hope you enjoyed it!

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog| Ko-Fi

#monster lover #monster boyfriend #enigma-im #exophilia #fluff #orc boyfriend #orcs orcs orcs #orc x reader #orcs are hot

[louissatturi]

BAGI ABOUT FOOLISH CHAOTIC WAYS

[TRANSLATION]

[Bagi]:we ware playing trowing little rocks at the river and make the little rock jump in the water you know? And then you see foolish lifting a rock that had at least 20 kilos* and saying "and this one huh?" For starters he took a picture with a rock this size like he lifted a rock off the floor that was this size, he lifted it and said "and this one?" And then he took a picture with this rock in his hands, it was a polaroid (picture), i think this polaroid is with me by the way AND after we took the picture he trew it into the water making a tsunami in the water and... and he is the Anfitrião/Host*, he is chaotic, he is the host, he is very chaotic but he is chaotic in a really fun way

TRANSLATOR NOTE!

* 20 kilos = 44 pounds (at least what the internet said, idk math)

* anfitrião (english name host) is a ordem paranormal entity and antagonist that represents energia/energy the element of chaos

#qsmp meet up #bagi #bagi cattuzzo #gabi cattuzzo #foolish gamers

[shadecrux]

Bad Day (Bucky Barnes x Reader -drabble)

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°•★Pairing: Bucky Barnes / Reader °•★Rating: SFW

°•★Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Established Romantic Relationship, Pet Names, Doll, But Otherwise Gender Neutral Reader °•★ Words: 669 (nice!) °•★ Notes: Hey all, so this is the first fic I’ve ever published on tumblr, pls be nice!  I finished up my own bad day today and sort of, ended up writing this drabble as a way to get out those feelings.  This is the first time I’ve written as Bucky, so I hope I’ve done him justice!!  Despite the use of pet names I tried to leave out physical descriptions of the reader as much as possible so anyone can envision themselves in that role.  If anyone has any notes for how to do it better I am definitely open to that!   ~All writing unless otherwise noted is my own. Please do not post or reupload my work to other websites without my express consent. I do not consent for my fics to be used in AI creations. I do not own any of the characters featured in my works unless they are stated to be OCs.~ All of my fanworks are intended for adults aged 18 and up only! Minors please DNI. ----------------˚ * •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙* ˚＊------💜 💚 💜------＊* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙ * ˚----------------

You were curled up on the couch when he got home, eyes glistening with tears too stubborn to fall, hugging your knees to your chest. It had just been such a bad day. It seemed as though nothing was going right, and by the end of it, everything hurt.  

Bucky walked through the door and saw you, immediately dropping the bags he had been holding and rushing over to sit beside you and pull you into his arms.

  "What happened doll, what's wrong?

"You shake your head, turning your body to curl against him, burying your face in his shoulder.

  "Can't..."

"Hey, hey it's okay. You don't need'ta talk about it right now if it's too much ok? Just hang on to me, I've got you."

You nod and wrap your arms around him, sliding yourself closer to him until you're halfway in his lap. Bucky simply hums and squeezes you more tightly, his arms around you strong and steady and solid, an anchor to hold you there with him. 

 Finally, finally, the tears come, and your body is wracked with sobs as he soothes you, gently stroking your hair, and pressing his lips to the crown of your head. 

"Shh, shh... it's alright. That's it... let it out." He whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

 He didn't really speak, just murmured soft, soothing sounds into your ear, rocking with you on the couch until tears stained his shirt , until you began to still against his and he could feel the tension draining out of your shoulders. His hands gently slid up and down your back, kneading your muscles, grounding you until he finally heard you sigh, and you lifted your head to look at him.

 Seeing the large wet patch on his shirt your face twisted into a frown, and you look up at him apologetically. 

 "Bucky, I'm so sorry, your shirt..."

"Don't you worry about that sweetheart. It's just a little wet."

He reached up to cup your cheek in his hand, lifting your chin slightly until you were looking at him, his bright blue eyes piercing as they gazed into yours. 

 "How are you feeling now?"

"A little better..." 

"Well, that's a start." he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, pausing a moment before his voice took on a lighter, more teasing tone.  "But I'm not exactly satisfied with that answer. I think we're gonna need to do a little bit better." 

"Oh really?" you asked, the barest hint of a grin tugging at your lips.

 "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, for starters..."His breath fanned your face as he tilted his head, kissing you sweetly, his lips impossibly soft as they connected with yours. Bucky kissed you slowly, hand gently cupping the base of your neck, holding without forcing. Your lips moved against his, and by the time you pulled back for air you were dizzy and lightheaded, and what's more... you were smiling.

 "How about now?" he asked with a lazy grin and just a hint of smugness in his voice.  

"Definitely better." You laughed.  

"And how about after a bath, dinner, and a movie? I'll cook tonight." He gently nudged his head against yours.

 "Right now? That sounds like a perfect night." You replied, and he didn't waste another moment, scooping you up into his arms and standing to carry you through the apartment toward the bath. 

 There would be plenty of time later to talk about the things that had gone wrong if you wanted to. For now, Bucky's only concern was making sure you were okay - he would take care of you, and give you the space to relax and recover

. By the end of the night, the two of you would be cuddled up on the couch, doubled over with laughter at some dumb movie, the hurts of the day slowly fading into the past.

 By the end of the night, when you were laying down beside him to sleep, you would still be smiling. 

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader fanfic #fluff #drabble #sebastian stan #gender neutral reader #he does call them doll once though #shades fics