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juletheghoul · 7 months

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AN: The gif of this man as a sheriff, sent my ass into a SPIRAL and this is what happened. I originally wanted to post this for my birthday, but with Canadian Thanksgiving falling on the same weekend there was no way I would have been able to finish lol. I am still trying to post more often, please be patient with me, hopefully this makes up for the lack of posting for the last few weeks. Special thanks to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments and in whatsapp over this, and to @frannyzooey for screaming at me through discord lol (And for making me some super awesome edits that I will post after!) Hope you enjoy xox.

(PS, I have an idea for a part 2, let me know if you’d want to read it!)

Pairing; Sheriff Frankie Morales x f!reader (Blue / Bluebell as a nickname)

Warnings; sweet, lovestruck Frankie needs his own warning I think-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy like the champion he is, a non-consensual creampie, angst, longing, yearning, some violence (involving guns / war, accurate for the time period-I tried not to let it get too gory or graphic) brothel mentions - let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

Dust swirled around him as he made his way into town from the train station, the sun beating down on his every step, and although he hadn’t been home in over a decade, he still knew the way just as well as if he’d never left. Difference was he’d left practically a boy, and now he’d come back a man.

People he both did and didn’t recognize passed him as he carried his suitcase down the sunny high street, some of them smiled, most of them ignored him. It made no difference to him. He would be their new sheriff just the same. Besides, there was only one person he cared to see again. There would be time enough for that later, though. First, he had to get settled.

The brothel was busy, a surefire sign of the town’s growth evident in the number of horses tied up in front.

“Well, hey there, sugar–” He tipped his hat and smiled at the young lady calling out to him, smiling as she leaned against one of the columns flanking the entrance, “-you coming to make a woman out of me?” She batted her big eyes at him.

“Don’t count on it.” His tone was polite, his smile in place. She tsked, giggling at his manners before being called away by someone inside.

Sweat was starting to collect on his brow with the effort of lugging his suitcase all the way from the train station, and he let out a relieved sigh when he finally stepped through the doors of the sheriff's office. It was somehow even hotter on the inside.

“Can I help you?” A kid no older than he’d been when he’d left greeted him from one of the two desks in the small room.

“I’m Francisco Morales, I’m here to see–”

“He’s here to see me, he’s my replacement.” A grizzled but familiar voice sounded from behind him, “You’re early.” The older man walked past him on his way to the second, bigger desk, where he put his cowboy hat down before turning to face him once more. “I was under the impression you’d be here by the end of this month. You in that much of a hurry to retire me, boy?”

He set the suitcase down before wiping at the back of his neck with his handkerchief.

“No sir, just wanted to get settled in, have some time to reacquaint myself.” He put the cloth away. “Fix up the house before starting. Thought I’d check in with you first, though.” He’d gotten in plenty of trouble growing up, and most of the time, this man had been the one to pull him by his ear and make him smarten up. It was a novelty to be in this office and not be in trouble.

“Well, you’ve checked. Go on and get settled. The desk and the badge will still be here in a week.” Sheriff Carson had always been one to speak plainly, and he did so now.

“Yes, sir.” Francisco picked the suitcase back up and braced himself for the glaring rays that would greet him just outside.

“Son,” He turned at the sound of the old man’s voice, “I was sorry to hear about your folks. They were good people.” He nodded back at the old man once and made his way back out the door.

—

“Try again.” You crossed your arms, “We both know I’m not paying that much.” You kept both your voice and expression as neutral as you could, keeping your real interest in the supplies he had close to your chest. Interest and necessity always cost more.

He narrowed his eyes, and you raised your eyebrows in return, holding your ground.

“Price is an even one hundred dollars; had to ride halfway around the world to get most of it-” You curled your lip in disgust.

“Bullshit, Dale! You rode to the nearest town, and that’s only a day's ride at the most. I’ll pay fifty, and that’s twice what it’s worth.”

“You tryna rob me, woman?” He crossed his arms, mirroring you, “I’ll go down to eighty, but that’s final.” He rose to his full height, his posture making him look like some giant, petulant child.

“Seventy-five. And I want some tobacco.”

“Goddamn, you drive a hard bargain. Fine.” He extended his hand, and you shook it with a satisfied smile.

“Good man. Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

“Yeah, yeah, robbin’ me more like.” He grumbled good-naturedly and unloaded the supplies while you counted out the money to pay him with. “Goin’ back in a couple weeks, make sure you let me know what you’ll be needin’ before I go.” He tucked the money away and left. The rest of the morning was spent restocking the various bottles and cabinets with your new stock.

It was therapeutic, sitting behind the big mahogany counter to take inventory of your shop. The shop that had taken you years to finally acquire. Every so often, you took stock of all the work you’d put into it and felt a significant amount of pride in what you’d accomplished. All of it done on your own.

The customers came and went throughout the day, buying tinctures and tonics, and you helped them all to the best of your ability until the end of the day eventually found you, and you locked up the shop. With a final sweep to ensure everything was in its right place before closing up for the night.

The sun was blessedly low as you made your way home, but the streets were busy. Ethel, the youngest and friendliest of the girls who worked in the brothel a few doors down from your shop, was smoking her pipe on the porch, waving and smiling as you passed.

“Hey Ethel, how you keeping?” You called out to her, “Fall in love again today?” She laughed, a plume of smoke wreathing around the halo of her hair.

“Of course, saw a tall drink of water today. Think I’m gonna marry him.” She winked, a devilish smile on her pretty face.

“Uh oh, sounds like he’s in trouble.” You laughed, waving as you passed by the house.

“He will be if he ever comes in here, bye Honey, see you later.”

The buildings thinned as you moved further and further away from the main street, giving you a clearer view of the surrounding ranches and houses scattered throughout the plains. Your own house came into view, and you smiled to see it. The view of it had the pride swelling again; it had been run down and ragged when you’d purchased it, but money wasn’t the only thing you’d invested. That house was the result of your blood, sweat, and tears. Hours and hours of elbow grease, blisters, and bruises, cuts, and had you not been very careful, it would have cost you a few broken bones as well.

There was another house on the way to yours though, one that wiped the smile right off your face as you passed it. It was a house that drew your eye no matter how many times you walked past, no matter how many times you tried to ignore it. It was empty now, but years ago, it had been full of life, full of love and mischief and happiness. It had been full of hope and promises. It was empty now, one of the windows broken, much like the promises had been.

You couldn’t help but watch it as you passed; something flashed in the window, but you ignored it. There hadn’t been anyone there for years.

Wish it would just burn down or sell. Wish the ground would open up and swallow it whole.

Your feet ache when you finally make it to your house, eager to unlace the boots imprisoning them. You did your best to hurry through all your chores and feed yourself, the promise of a hot bath and sweet-smelling soap carrying you through.

—

The house was so much worse than he’d thought it would be, and he’d thought it’d be bad. A couple of windows had broken, and half a town's worth of dirt and dust had blown in through them. He sighed at the state of it, knowing his mother would never have let it get this bad, and for once, he was grateful she wasn’t around to see it.

He set his suitcase down and made a mental list of what needed to be done. First thing first, he needed a few things.

With a wagon full of supplies and considerably less money in his pocket, he began the long process of making it habitable. With a stiff brush and an even stiffer broom, the dirt was returned to its rightful place outside the house. The windows that weren’t broken were opened to let in fresh air, and floors and counters were washed. Food and supplies were put away; the bed was made with new, expensive sheets and linens.

He worked his fingers to the bone throughout the day and most of the night until he’d done as much as he could. There was nothing to be done about the windows; the glass had been ordered, but it would be a few days, possibly even weeks, until he could fix those.

By the time he’d boiled water to bathe himself with, he could barely keep his eyes open, and once clean, he dropped into bed and into the sweet abyss of sleep.

It was strange for him to wake up in the same house he’d grown up in, even stranger for him to wake up in the bedroom his parents had owned. He’d been so dead tired that he’d forgotten to close the shutters, and the room was flooded with the golden light of dawn, chasing away any and all hope for a few extra hours of rest.

Those earlier years were vivid in his mind now that he was here, in this house. He could practically hear the younger, wilder version of himself climbing out his window to go find her. Could still taste the stolen kisses in his mouth, could still hear her delighted laugh when he’d wrap her up in his arms and declare his undying love.

He rose, trying and failing to leave the memories of her behind, and got ready for the day. The coffee he’d bought from the general store wasn’t half bad, and he drank the whole pot with gusto, making a mental note to make sure he picked up some more before he ran out.

The current sheriff didn’t want him underfoot while he settled his affairs, and he didn’t plan on making Carson’s life harder, but he did want to reacquaint himself with the town he’d soon be the law in. He figured the best way to do that would be to go into the businesses and talk to the people, and make his presence known.

You should be looking for her, give her an explanation–demand one in return.

He shook his head, ignoring the rational part of his brain. After all, he didn’t even know if she was still here. He thought about her as he left his house, imagining he could see the two of them as they’d been before. He, in his transition into manhood, her in the bloom of her youth, the two of them inseparable. The ghosts caught up to him though, and then he saw her–the real her, standing just outside the apothecary, waving someone away.

She saw him too, and his heart raced. She was even more beautiful to him than he remembered; it was as though for a brief moment, all of the years between them melted away.

A very brief moment.

The look of shock and hurt, and what he hoped had been love on her face was replaced with a look that, thankfully, could not hurt him. It was pure and unadulterated anger, no–fury.

His legs moved, bringing him towards her. This was definitely not how he wanted this meeting to go. He just hoped she’d listen, but judging by the way she stuck up her middle finger at him, it didn’t look good.

–

The nerve of him. The unmitigated gall!

“Wait–” His voice sounded as you turned to make your way back inside the shop.

“No!” You yelled back over your shoulder, not even bothering to face him, even as your heart raced to see him again.

“Goddamnit, woman, wait! Let me talk to you–” He was closer than you thought, barely managing to avoid you slamming the door in his face.

“Don’t you ‘woman’ me, Francisco Morales!” you yelled up into his handsome face, hating how gorgeous he looked, how his neck- one of your favourite parts of him- stared you in the face. “Do me a favour and take off for another fifteen years. Leave me be.”

“Come on, Bluebell, you gotta let me explain.” He managed to slip through the doors before you had a chance to lock them, but it didn’t matter, the pet name he called you stopped you in your tracks and rocketed the fury to new heights.

“Bluebell?” You couldn’t hide the edge of violence in your voice, “How dare you call me that? I am nothing but a stranger to you at this point. You lost any and all privileges to call me anything at all when you left.” He was taller than when he left, but his eyes still burned into yours the way they’d done when you were young and in love.

It would make you laugh if you weren’t still so hurt about how everything had gone down. The way he was standing in front of you, hands on his hips, frustrated frown in place. You didn’t give him an inch, but it hurt to admit just how badly you’d missed him. You shooed the swirl of feelings for him away, focusing on the one easiest to deal with: anger.

“Will you listen to me at least?”

“Why should I?” You turned from him, busying yourself with putting a few of your jars back in their place.

“Well, because I owe you an explanation–” You let out a bark of cruel laughter.

“That’s an understatement.”

“-I know, I always intended on coming back for you. You have to know that.”

“Do I? Do I just have to know that Francisco?” You all but slammed the jar into its slot on the big cabinet, taking up the whole wall behind the counter. “You know, you have some goddamn nerve–” the little bell above the door jingled when the Sheriff walked in, his bushy, white eyebrows raised into his hairline as the look on your face. It didn’t take an overly in-depth investigation to see that Francisco wasn’t exactly in your good books.

“You never could stay out of trouble, could you, son?” He moved past him to stand at the counter before you, “You want me to come back later, sweetheart?”

You sighed, doing your best to smile at the older man.

“Not at all. I have the tonic ready; give me just a moment to wrap it up for you.” You did your best to smile and ignore the big, aggravatingly effective puppy dog eyes shining at you from your peripheral. “Here you are, Sherriff, that’ll be thirty-five cents.” He dug into his pocket, counting out the right amount and handing it over before thanking you and turning to leave.

“You make sure you let me know if you need anything–” He gave Francisco a frown, “-and I mean anything.”

“Yes sir, thank you.” With another jingle, he was gone, but other customers made their way inside, and Francisco sighed.

“You can go ahead and leave. I am at my place of business.”

“I will come and find you later. Then we can actually talk.” He took a few steps back, his hand on the door handle.

“I won’t hold my breath.”

—

Much to his annoyance, the sheriff was waiting for him outside of the apothecary.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” He spoke the words through a tired sigh.

“Boy, I do believe that woman hates you.”

“No sir, that woman loves me. If she hated me, she would have shot me.” He moved away from the sheriff, ignoring the raucous laughter that followed his every step. He ignored it and set about doing what he needed to do, telling himself that he’d be able to deal with it later when she let him explain himself. It made no matter what he told himself, though, his mind wouldn’t let her go.

Instead of using the time productively, he found himself counting the hours until she closed up the shop, loitering around the door like some lovestruck teenager. He scoffed to himself, ignoring the cloying heat of the sun. Isn’t that all he was? Just some lovestruck fool? She couldn’t know that, though, not with the way things had gone down.

Any hope he had of her cooling down throughout the day died at the narrowing of her eyes, her expression now as she locked the apothecary door so different from the one that had kept him going throughout the years he’d spent away.

“Still here, shocking.” She waltzed past him, “Just leave me be.”

“I can’t do that., I need you to listen to me.” It took him a few long strides to catch up with her, “Can I please just explain?”

“Why? What does it matter at this point? I don’t want to hear you–” He stood in her way, blocking her path on the dusty sidewalk.

“Listen! Please!” He held onto her arms, keeping her still so he could look into her eyes. “I know you aren’t happy with me–” She scoffed, and he spoke over her, “I know, but you have to know that I missed you all this time. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but I can’t help that now.” She shrugged out of his grip, crossing her arms.

“You okay, Honey? This man botherin’ you?” An older woman shouted from the porch of the brothel, her hand on the gun at her hip.

“No, Ma’am, I’m fine. I know him–well, I knew him.” She turned towards the madam and smiled, “I got it under control.” She sighed and walked around him, turning to him after a few steps. “You have until I get home.”

He rushed behind her and kept the smile to himself.

“I see you’ve done really well for yourself. It makes me really happy to see how you’ve been–”

“This isn’t an explanation. You’re wasting your time with flattery I won’t respond to.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” He frowned, trying to keep pace with her. “I sent you letters–”

“You sent me a few letters, all of which I responded to.” She spoke loudly, cutting him off. “A few letters in almost fifteen years–”

“I sent you dozens of letters.” It was his turn to frown and her turn to slow down, “I wrote to you as often as I could, even after I stopped getting your responses.” He knew he wasn’t exactly the kind of man her parents had wanted her to end up with. He remembered the sour looks on their faces when he’d come calling.

“I got a few letters the first year and then nothing else.” Her expression was wary, her eyes narrowed. “Did you really write to me? Or are you saying that so I’ll forgive you?” She crossed her arms, stopping to gauge the truth in his words.

“I wrote to you for years, figured I would have to come and talk to you in person, but then I thought maybe you’d met someone else, or moved away, or worse. Then I told myself I’d come and find you, but life is the way it is, and things got in the way. When I heard they needed a new sheriff, I sent word to Carson to see if he’d consider hiring me–I was shocked when he responded yes.” She stared at him, eyes bright but mistrustful. “I swear on my mother's grave.” He took her hand, holding it to his heart. “I should have come sooner-” She pulled her hand away gently, fire still burning in her gaze, but now it was coloured with sadness as well as fury.

“Yes, yes, you should have.” She sighed and continued walking towards their homes, “I am so angry at you, Francisco. I am angry you left and angry you came back.” She looked away from him, her hands flying to her face momentarily before facing forward again.

“I know.” His house came into view, and he fought the urge to invite her in. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” She didn’t respond, only kept her eyes forward. “What time do you leave in the morning?”

“What?” She frowned.

“What time do you usually leave? I’m not sure what time the Apothecary opens–”

“It opens at eight, but I like to get there early. Why?”

“May I accompany you? I would like to walk with you if I could.” He knew she wouldn’t forgive him so quickly. Her fiery temper was one of the things he’d always loved about her.

“You want to walk me? I am fully capable-”

“I never said you weren’t. I would still like to walk with you. I’ve missed talking to you, it would be a nice way to…reconnect.” He chanced a smile, hoping it would still have the effect it used to.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t smile in return. Her house was closer now, his time with her coming to an end for the day.

“I suppose I cannot stop you.” It wasn’t a yes, but it definitely wasn’t a no.

“See you tomorrow then, goodnight Bluebell.” He stopped a few yards from her door, waiting until she was safely tucked inside before turning and going home.

The moon was high when you finally dug out the letters you’d hidden away deep in the chest at the end of your bed. The paper had yellowed, and you didn’t even bother getting up off the floor. With shaky hands, you untied the little bundle and spread them out in front of you, trying your hardest not to tear up at the little hearts and flowers he’d drawn in the curled-up corners.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss you. Things here move so quickly, but I’m doing so much, making more money than I’ve ever seen! More than enough for us to start our lives together–

You pushed the letter away, finally letting go of the sob that had been squatting in your throat since seeing him earlier that morning. The love he’d had was so evident in his scratchy script, and the pain of his apparent silence reared its head in your soul to see it again after all of the years you’d survived without him. The last letter he’d sent held no clue as to why he’d ever stop writing, and now a nagging suspicion filled the corners of your mind.

Your mother had made it more than clear that Francisco wasn’t her first choice for you. She’d treated him less than kindly whenever he came calling, would turn up her nose at him whenever she’d seen the two of you together, and had smiled a big, cruel smile at the news that he’d be leaving. Would she have gone so far as to hide letters from him? Something in your heart said yes.

Suddenly, it was too much to see his words surrounding you, and you gathered them up hastily, tossing them back into the chest before surrendering to the exhaustion in your heart and in your bones and getting into bed. You tried to think about something else as you lay there, anything else–but he kept popping up, making you wonder–against your will–whether or not he’d actually be there in the morning.

He didn’t let you wonder.

His heavy knock made you practically jump out of your skin as you did your best to tie the laces of your corset. You chewed on your bottom lip, annoyed with how you rushed to throw on your dressing robe, sighing at the speed with which you made it to the door.

He smiled as you opened the door, testing every measure of self-control you’d built up in his absence with a single dimple.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, just like I said–I figured it would be best to be early.” His gaze raked over you in your half-dressed state, “You look lovely.”

“Sure I do.” You scoffed, “I need more time. I usually leave a little later.” He scratched at the back of his neck, unsure what to say, and you had to work extra hard to keep from laughing at him. “Come in then. You can wait in the kitchen while I finish getting dressed.” You turned and left then, leaving him to close the door.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You kept the door slightly ajar in your bedroom, your heart racing to know that after all this time–he was in the same house as you. You shook your head, shooing away the novelty of his presence to call up the anger and the fury that had kept you from falling apart in his absence.

“The house looks great!” He called from the kitchen, “You shoulda seen the state of mine when I got here.”

You bit your lip, relishing the deep tones of his voice as they filled the house.

“Still haven’t been able to fix the windows–had half a desert's worth of sand in the house. Took me forever to clean it.” He continued speaking as you finished dressing, completely unaware of the way you contemplated whether or not to use some of your very pricey, very precious perfume. You ignored the disappointed little voice in your head as you dabbed a few drops behind your ears and on the inside of your wrists.

“-hopefully, they'll come in by the end of the week-” He was still speaking when you made your way back into the kitchen where he sat at your little table, the long lines of him entirely too big and too wonderful for the tiny space.

“Have you eaten?” You cut off his speech, pulling down the cast iron pan from the rack above the woodfire stove.

“I, uh, I had some coffee.”

“So, no?” You shoved some kindling into the open door of the oven, striking a match to light it.

“Well, no–”

“Okay then.” There was enough time, and you got to work.

“Can I help?”

“No–actually, yes. You can go fetch some water from the well out back.” You shoved the big kettle into his hands and sent him on his way, where he went without comment.

Soon enough, you had biscuits baking and coffee brewing, and the house smelled better than any perfume you could buy. You once again ignored the little voice, the one that curiously sounded like your mother when you put out both the butter and the jam.

When they were out of the oven and steaming, you couldn’t help but smile at how well they'd turned out.

“It smells like heaven in here.” You could practically hear him drooling, and it was with a great sense of both satisfaction and pride that you watched him throw caution to the wind and eat one without waiting for it to cool down. He moaned at the first bite, making your heart soar and silencing the mean little voice.

“You like them?” You had to hear it, had to hear the words in his voice.

“Like them? Honey, I’d kill for them.” You narrowed your eyes at him but let the endearment go without comment. Already, you were softening up for him. “I could eat this whole goddamn plate.” He pulled another one open, no doubt burning the tips of his fingers but continuing on just the same, slathering it with both butter and jam before taking a huge, steam-filled bite.

You ate yours slower, unsure what you liked best, the biscuit or watching him eat.

He poured you a cup of coffee before pouring one for himself, and for a moment, your heart shattered at how right it felt to have him here. For the first time since he’d left, you let yourself feel just how lonely you’d been without him.

“I know you’re angry with me.” He put the remnants of his biscuit down, “I know you think I abandoned you, picked up and found a new life outside of this place, but you have to know–” He reached over, taking your hand in his, “I never stopped thinking about you.” The tears flowed without your permission, what felt like years worth of them dripping steadily onto the bodice of your dress. “I have loved you since I was a boy, and I should have come back the second I thought something was wrong. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you worry or letting you imagine for a single moment that you weren’t everything to me. I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again, but I’ll work as hard as I can.”

You wanted to rip your hand away, to scream in his face and tell him to give you peace, but you couldn’t. Instead, you let the tears fall, let him stand and tentatively pull you towards him, let him crush you in the first hug you’ve had in years. For a moment, it’s as though you cannot get close enough, your hands like claws digging into the fabric of his overcoat, knuckles cramping from the force of your grip, and he sighs into your hair. The relief of the painfully familiar smell of him is so great that it almost knocks you off your feet.

When you finally push him away, you know your eyes are puffy.

“I believe you–” He smiles through his own tears, “-but I am still angry. I cannot just let go of my hurt. Not so quickly.” It takes everything in you, but you untangle yourself from him softly. “I have been living in this for so long, I don’t even know how to stop feeling this way.” The handkerchief that usually lived in your pocket made itself useful now. “I don’t even know where to begin. I loved you so much–” His face contorted in pain, the use of the word in the past tense like a stab to his heart. “-I don’t think I ever stopped. It’s the reason it hurts so much.” He let out a shaky breath, smiling a watery smile.

“I know, I’ll work for it, I promise.”

“I know.”

–

He felt like he was flying. His steps were so light, surely he’d grown wings. He knew it was going to be a long road for them, but for the first time in years, he had hope.

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face throughout the day, the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her in his nose, all of it made him feel like any errant puff of wind would blow him away. He had a skip in his step as he made his way over to the Sheriff's office, uncaring whether the man wanted him there or not. He had to keep his time away from her occupied with something, and learning what it took to do his job effectively was the next best thing.

“I haven’t seen that look on your face in years, it meant trouble back then, and I doubt it’s changed.” Sheriff Carson frowned at him, “Your house all fixed up then?” He didn’t stop what he was doing, instead continuing as he spoke.

“As fixed as it can be, sir, until the replacement window panes come in.” He sat in the chair in front of Carson without invitation. The man only grunted in response.

“I want to start early, get a feel for what you do so I can do it properly.” At this, the older man looked up.

“I know I wasn’t the easiest kid–” The older man scoffed at that but let him continue. “-Yes, yes, I know. I was a helion. I’m a man now, and I’ve grown up. I just want to keep this town safe, want to do my job.” The older man's eyes narrowed, and Francisco frowned. “Why did you say yes when I applied?”

“Part curiosity, part hope, I guess.” He set the pen down, leaning back in his chair, his arms coming to rest crossed on his belly. “You’ve always been a smart kid, Frank, and if you really are as grown up as I think you are, I think you got the makings to be a great sheriff. Especially if you’re anything like your daddy.” It was probably the nicest thing Carson had ever said to him. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I just don’t want you to hurt that girl–” He raised his hands to forestall any response, “I know what you felt for her was real, but she was a shell when you left, and I don’t want to see her like that again. We clear?”

“Yes, sir. I’m here. I’m home for good.”

“Good, now let's get to work.”

Francisco was no stranger to hard work, but Carson seemed determined to make him jump through every single hoop in order to prove he could do this job. It didn’t deter him in the slightest, not with the promise of the life he’d always wanted so close on the horizon. Instead, he took notes, followed Carson, did everything he asked, and paid as much attention as he could, but secretly counted the hours until he would see her again.

He heard the gunshots as he organized the disaster that was Carson’s filing system.

“Suppose you oughta come with.” Carson slipped his holster on, handing a gun to him before leading the way toward the sound.

A half-naked man was rolling around on the ground just outside the brothel, clutching at a blood-soaked arm. His eyes were wild with pain and anger, and he only seemed to get more frantic at the sight of the two of them approaching.

“Sheriff! Arrest that woman!” He pointed with his good hand at the young woman on the porch. “Crazy bitch shot my damn arm-”

“You put your hands on me, and you lose your hand! Them’s my rules!” She was screaming mad, a painful-looking shiner blooming on her pale face.

“Enough!” Carson’s voice rang out loud enough to silence everyone within earshot, “Now–Who��s gonna tell me what happened? I can listen, or I can arrest the lot of you and be done with it.” He rested his weight on one leg, hand resting on the gun at his hip.

The madame stepped out from behind the younger woman, her face austere.

“I think it’s pretty obvious; he took a liberty, smacked my girl around, and he got bit.” She put her arm around the younger woman's shoulder. “Ethel is one of my best. Now she’s got this to deal with. He’s lucky she didn’t shoot his pecker off.” The man scoffed, pulling his shirt on as best he could before moving towards the women.

“I don’t think so, pal,” Francisco spoke directly to him, pulling his own gun and holding it at his side in warning.

“I got witnesses, Carson. Lock this fucker up, and let us get back to work.”

“I’ll need to come in and get some statements, Mabel. You know that as well as I do. Frank, take this moron over to get patched up.”

“So I’m just gonna lose my fuckin’ hand!?” He was incensed.

“Lucky you didn’t lose your life. Now get out of my sight. I’m gonna give you until sundown to be out of here; if not, you can spend an undetermined amount of time in my jailhouse.” Carson’s voice held no room for anything but complete obedience, and after a tense moment, all of the air went out of him, and he let Francisco lead him toward the town physician.

You tried not to be upset when he wasn’t waiting for you outside the apothecary at the end of the day; after all, he hadn’t said he would be. Instead, you locked up as usual and set about making your way home.

“Bluebell!” His voice rang out from behind you, making your head whip around. Your frown turned from annoyance to worry at the sight of dried blood on the white of his shirt. Your hands clutched at the collar of his shirt before you had a chance to catch yourself.

“What happened?” Any and all propriety went right out the window with how frantically you pulled at his layers to see where the blood had come from. “Did you get hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine–it’s not mine.” there was something in his voice that brought you back to your senses, a tenderness that pierced the very heart of you. His hands held onto yours for a moment before you pulled them away slowly.

“Oh. I’m glad.”

“There was some trouble at the brothel. One of the girls shot some idiot who got handsy. I had to bring him to the physician.” The thought of him anywhere near the brothel made your hackles rise. You stamped the feeling away and continued your walk back home. He fell into step beside you. “What was that?” His smile was big now.

“What was what?”

“That look you just gave me.” He bumped his shoulder into yours, and you frowned.

“What are you talking about? I didn't give you any look.”

“You gave me a look, Blue, when I said the word brothel, a jealous look.” His smile was so wide you wanted to smack him.

“I did not. You are free to do as you please. We aren’t married.” You kept your eyes on the horizon and did your best to ignore the bark of laughter he let out beside you.

“Fine, I’ll drop it. I got no business in a brothel anyway. Even if I’m not married, yet.”

You sighed, ignoring just how right he was.

There was a man with a wagon waiting just outside his house as you passed it.

“Can I help you?” He called out to the man outside his house. You can’t help but notice how he put himself between you and the stranger.

“I have some window panes to deliver.” He walked around to the back of the wagon, uncovering it to show the cargo

“Oh! Yes, I’ll take those.” He jogged over to the man, helping to bring the glass inside. You followed him despite yourself, unable to keep the frown off your face at the state of his home. You were still looking around when everything had been brought inside, and the man had been sent away. “It still needs work, but at least the windows will be intact.” You could see how he surveyed his home, his eye just as critical if not more than yours.

You set down your things.

“Need to boil some water.” You hauled out the biggest pot you could find.

“What?” He came over and took the pot from you, putting it onto the stove for you.

“We need to boil water to clean these floors, and we should wash these windows too.”

“Yes, but I can do it–”

“Francisco. Go get water so we can boil it and get this place in order.” You raised your eyebrows at him and relished the way he watched you. He’d always liked it when you were assertive.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled before heading out to his own well.

Once the water was boiled, you got to work with a stiff brush while he set about replacing the broken windows. It wasn’t easy work, getting down on your knees to scrub the years worth of dirt and dust out of every nook and cranny embedded in the floorboards. It was worth it, though, to look up every so often and see the hard lines of him working, both his jacket and waistcoat shed and thrown onto a chair; his shirtsleeves rolled up.

He’d always been beautiful to you, with his big brown eyes and his golden skin, the maddening dimple, even the curve in his nose. He was even more gorgeous now, with age and experience etched on his face, even hardened, he could still make you swoon.

You gasped at the sting, snatching your hand back cat-quick. Blood beaded on your finger and dripped down onto the freshly washed floor, an errant piece of broken glass sitting on the floor. It was a few seconds before he was gathering you up from off the floor and guiding you to one of the chairs.

“I’m okay, just a little cut.” He moved away for a moment, moving towards the back of the house. “Really, Frankie, I’m fine.” He came back with a few pieces of clean linen and a little jar of something clear; you can only imagine what it is.

“I know. I still want to clean and wrap it, though.” He set his things down, moving to the remaining boiled water on the stove to dampen one of the pieces of cloth, using it to clean the wound before opening the little jar. His eyes found yours then– ”You gonna be brave for me?” He held it over the cut, waiting for you to answer. “It’s going to hurt, but I know you’re gonna be good for me.” He winked and then splashed a little bit of the moonshine onto it. He may as well have stuck a hot poker into your hand. “There there, Blue, almost done.”

By the time the stinging abates, your finger is wrapped up, and any evidence of injury is gone.

“Thank you.” You held your hand close to your chest, ignoring the way it shook a bit.

“Of course, I think we’re done for today. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I would like for you to eat something.” He pulled out what looked like some crusty bread and some dry meat. “It’s not much, but it’s what I have for right now.” He set it down in front of you, giving you everything he had to offer, and for the first time in years, you smiled at him.

“Are you done with the windows?”

“Yes, I just need to get rid of these broken pieces.” He gestured to the pile on the counter.

“Okay, let's go back to my place. I can make us dinner.” You stood to move, and he followed you, protesting for a moment.

“But your hand–”

“My hand is fine. Let’s go.” You moved to pick up your things, but he stopped you, gently knocking your hand aside to carry them for you.

The stew came together as quickly as it could with the way your hand throbbed. The bread, too, and soon enough, you were both sitting at the table eating the steaming food quietly. He ate with gusto, and you wondered briefly if he’d been eating well in his time away. He looked strong, but then again, he’d always been broad.

He pushed his bowl away with a dreamy smile, his hands coming to rest on his belly.

“That was the best thing I’ve eaten since I left. Aside from the biscuits this morning, I mean.”

“I’m glad.” You finished eating as he sat there, enjoying his company far more than you’d ever admit. Once you were done, he grabbed your bowl and put it into the sink, pouring some of the leftover well water to begin cleaning up. “You don’t have to do that–”

“I know. You don’t have to feed me either. I’ll just clean these and then get out of your hair.” You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t convince him otherwise.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you, you’ve fed me better today than in the whole time I was gone.” You smiled to yourself, half exhilarated, half annoyed at just how much your anger at him had crumbled. “Okay-” He set the last plate on the drying rack before drying his hands, “-I desperately need a bath. I’ll get out of your way. See you tomorrow morning?”

“If you want.” You followed behind him, trying your hardest to keep the hope out of your voice.

“Of course, I want to see you tomorrow.” He moved in quickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you had time to protest. “Goodnight Blue.” With a smile and a wink, he’s gone.

Weeks passed, and it could not be said that Francisco Morales wasn’t a persistent man. No matter how hard you tried to hang onto that anger, he excelled in chipping away at it. He was true to his word about working on building back the trust that had been lost, spending any time away from his work with Carson split between you, and working on his house.

He’d become quite the handyman in his time away, and he showcased that in the work he did in both his house and yours. He’d noticed your laundry line had broken and fixed it aggravatingly quickly. He spotted a few leaky spots in your roof and had them fixed at no cost to you, making you wonder just how much money he’d made while away. Aside from the windows and the cleaning you’d both done at his place, he’d replaced the more rundown furniture, and while it was missing some of the personal touches of his mother–it was definitely comfortable and livable once again.

The intense loneliness and craving for intimacy had also hit you full force with his return. You found yourself thinking back to how things had been when you’d been young and wildly in love with each other. How his mouth had always found yours, how he seemed to need to be close to you, his arm often around your shoulder, his hand always finding a way to clasp yours.

It was worse at night when other memories floated out of the isthmus of your mind, filling it with the visions of him above you, his tongue in your mouth, and his cock deep inside. You’d been young but eager to explore one another, and he had been nothing if not resourceful in finding any and all opportunities to get you out of your clothing. Now, the days were filled with new tortures, and you found yourself feeling jealous of the beads of sweat that rolled down his back, envious of the way his shirts seemed to hold him so tightly.

The way his eyes tracked you didn’t help the situation; they were just as wild, just as beautiful, and just as open and honest as they’d always been. His desire for you shining out at you through their honeyed gaze.

He’d been busy that morning, well and truly the sheriff now, and with that came more time away, giving you, in turn, more time alone. Or so you’d thought. The knock was loud, solid, and instantly, you knew it was him. You groaned, staring at the perfectly steaming water of the tub surrounding you.

“Not now, Frankie!” You called out to him from the back of the house–hoping for a moment he’d let you enjoy the sweet steam surrounding you. His knock came again, and you huffed, stepping out of the oasis and wrapping yourself up in your dressing gown. “Frankie, I’m kind of in the middle of something–” You opened the door to him, and instantly, his gaze raked over you, no doubt seeing the way the damp fabric clung to your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. The dumbstruck look on his face filled you with such satisfaction that you let him look his fill before moving your eyes to bring his attention back up. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh–” He stumbled for a moment, his eyes moving back down to where the gown split, to where your leg and most of your thigh peeked through. “Um–I uh…”

“...You…?”

“Um…Sorry. I brought you a gift.” He shook his head for a minute before decidedly looking you in the eye. “I remember I took your copy; brought you a new one.” He held the book out to you, and for a moment, you forgot to be alluring.

“Jane Eyre?” You grabbed the book, opening it up quickly.

“I remember you reading it to me; thought maybe I could read it to you sometime.” His dimple shined, and you couldn’t help but leap into his arms.

“Oh, Frankie, I love it! I have been looking for a copy forever!” You pressed your face into his neck and relished how tightly he held onto you in return, relished the feeling of his nose buried in the crook of your neck.

“God, Blue, you smell good enough to eat.” His words, his voice, they ran down your spine like a drop of ice on a hot day, hardening your nipples and making you ache for him. You pulled away, biting your lip as you stared at his mouth.

“You could come in… and read to me?” He smiled and closed the door. “I was just in the bath. I could get in and cover myself with a cloth. You could read to me while I bathe.” He nodded slowly, gulping before following you, making sure to grab a chair on his way.

“Give me one minute to get in.” You closed the door, heart thumping at how the colour had gone out of his eyes, leaving them blown black. Within a few tense moments, you were back in the tub with the hangover of the lining cloth covering you under the milky, soapy water. “Okay–come in.”

He looked almost pained as he pulled up the chair beside you, his eyes once again greedy in their quest to map whatever part of you he could see, which admittedly is more than you planned to show him with how transparent the lining is.

“Shall I start at the beginning?” He flipped open the book, but his eyes were still locked on you.

“Yes, please.”

“Very well.” He took a deep breath, and began, his deep, soothing voice the perfect accompaniment to the steaming water.

“Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day–Oh, sorry, I already read that.” You smiled to yourself, enjoying the way he couldn’t seem to focus, the way he kept losing his place, and admittedly, it took everything in you not to pull him into the tub with you.

“That’s okay. Can you help me with this?” You offered him the soapy washcloth, “My back? It’s so hard to get it on my own.” You batted your eyes at him, smiling the smile he’d never been able to resist, hoping it still worked its magic on him.

“Let me rinse my hands first. I don’t want to muddy up this paradise.” He knocked the chair over in his haste to reach the washbasin you had on the counter. By the time he was finished and righting his seat, he had shed his topmost layers and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his biceps.

You leaned forward, giving him access to the skin of your back and sighing at the closeness of him when he pressed the soapy cloth to it.

“God, I missed you, Blue.” He rubbed at your shoulders slowly, his other hand slipping around to hold the top of your chest, just beneath the dip at the bottom of your throat. “Missed touching you, feeling you, kissing you.”

Your eyes closed, and you thought surely he must feel the way your heart raced just under your skin when his fingers curled softly around your neck.

“Been dying to kiss you for years.” You felt then how the cloth had been discarded, and his bare hand spanned the smooth skin of your back, massaging at your shoulders and the top of your spine. “You ever miss me like that?” His voice was a soft rasp now, lulling you up and back into his hand, letting the linen go and looking up into his eyes.

“Yes–I do, Frankie–all the time.” You bit your lip, staring at his mouth as he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?” He moved forward an inch, leaning in as his hands worked their spell against your skin.

“Yes-” You barely whispered the word before he pressed his mouth to yours softly. It was tender and oh so familiar, the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue seeking entrance and gaining it just like he’d done so many times before. Your kiss was a dance, the steps of which neither of you had ever forgotten. It ached, the way his mouth claimed yours, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, to reach up and hold onto him as he groaned into the kiss.

“I have been dreaming about this since I left–” He spoke between kisses, pressing them to your face, before licking into your mouth once more, “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, chasing his mouth again. His hand slipped down, slick with soap, and then he held onto your breast, kneading one and then the other, his thumb strumming against the sensitive buds while your cunt leaked for him. His eyes moved, watching himself touch you, his lip caught between his teeth,and all of a sudden, it was too much, and you move, pulling away and standing, naked as the day you were born.

“Take me to bed, Frankie.” He stared up at you from his place on the chair, and from the look on his face, you’d think he was looking at an angel. It didn’t last, though; within seconds, he was up and pulling you out of the tub, practically dragging you towards your bedroom.

Your breath came out in a huff when you landed on your back, smiling breathlessly at the look of pure hunger on his face. He chewed his lip as he pulled off his layers, going through them quick enough that you genuinely worried he’d rip them. The water that had clung to your skin from the bath, now seeped into the sheets underneath you as you watched him undress.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, Blue.” He kicked his denim off, tossing everything every which way, “So hard it hurts.” His cock bobbed as he finally crawled his way over to you, and it was then that you saw it, a significant scar on his side, like a starburst. Your hand reached out, and you pressed your fingers to it, looking into his eyes for an explanation.

He pulled your hand up and kissed the tips of your fingers, “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He continued his pilgrimage across your body, stopping only to kiss your sternum, your hip, and the soft skin of your belly. “I missed seeing you like this so much-“ he opened your legs, groaning at the way your cunt glistened for him. “-I missed how fucking wet you get, how good you taste-“ he barely finished speaking before he dove in, his tongue parting you further, gliding over your clit with desperation.

“I missed you-oh-“ his hands clutched at your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth, pulling the strings of your arousal to pool for his tongue. “That feels so fucking good, Frankie—“ Your hands found the short crop of his hair, unsure of whether you wanted to pull him up or grind against him. He huffed a cocky laugh into your skin, doubling his efforts and tightening his grip on your thighs, his fingers indented into the skin. The steady glide of his tongue against your clit, up and down, up and down, has you falling over the edge of the cliff and your thighs clamping around his head.

It didn't stop him; his tongue kept moving, slower as you rode out your high. He bit at the plump of your inner thigh as you relaxed, smiling and shiny with your arousal.

“I missed that too.” He moved, pressing his lips to your belly again, moving up and licking a hot stripe between your breasts before slotting his hips between your legs. His skin was so warm, so welcome, that you couldn’t help but sigh and pull him close, your fingers curling into his hair.

“I wanted you to come back so badly-“ You covered every inch of his face in kisses, “Wanted you to stay with me, love me like this.” You licked into his mouth, tasting yourself in the kiss.

“I’m here, Honey, I’ll never leave you again-“ You can feel just how hard his cock is as it pressed into your belly, the two of you clinging to one another in the dying light of the day.

“Promise me, promise me you won’t leave me.” You reached down and wrapped your hand around the sizable heft of him, stroking slowly while positioning him at your entrance.

“Fuck-I promise baby, I promise you-“ His sentence ended in a filthy moan as you pulled him in with your heels, pressing into the meat of his ass, finally having him inside you again after everything.

You moaned at the way he filled you.

The last fifteen years melted away, the long stretch of loneliness feeling more and more like a dream with every deep stroke of his cock.

There were no more words, only whimpers from you and deep groans from him. There was the rhythmic rocking of your bed and the slick sounds of him moving between your legs. His hips snapped faster and faster as he chased his release, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feed all the delicious sounds he made directly into your ear.

“I’m so close, touch yourself—“ his voice sounded wrecked, moving his hips like a piston, his cock kissing that one spot only he ever found. You obey and reach down to swirl your fingers around your clit, rocketing yourself closer to another, more intense orgasm.

He moved his face down, holding onto your breast to suck on your nipple, and then the dam broke, and you clenched around him, moaning his name as you reached your peak.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s so good, oh god—I’m gonna come-“ his hips sped up, the wet sounds of his thrusts louder after your second climax. You opened your legs wide, giving him space to move, but he stayed put.

“Frankie-“ You started to speak, trying to guide him to spill on your belly; still, he didn’t move. Instead, he pushed in deep, groaning loudly, and it was with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you felt him twitch inside.

You were frozen in place, momentarily shocked into silence.

“God—I’ve been dreaming of that for years.” He sounded drunk, pulling out of you with a hiss to take a good look at his handiwork.

“Francisco, did you just do what I think you did?” Your tone was devoid of any sweetness. “Did you just spill inside me?”

“Yes—“ he frowned, confusion colouring his face along with the flush of his exertion, “—I thought you’d forgiven me? We’re together again-“

“And me forgiving you means risking a baby?” You pulled away, wiggling out from under him to grab a linen shift from your drawer.

“Wait, Blue, come back.” He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry I didn’t think. It just felt right.”

“Of course it felt right to you. You have no regard for how I might feel.” Your anger burned through you, where once there had been passion, it was now replaced with fear. A deep fear that the next time he decided to up and leave, it might not just be you waiting for him.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, that’s not true-“

“I’d like you to leave.” Hot tears flowed down your face at the thought of being pregnant with his child, and alone, waiting to see how long it took him to return the second time.

“Baby, please—don’t make me leave, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—“

“Leave! I want to be alone. Please just–just go home.” You wiped at your eyes before crossing your arms, doing your absolute best to avoid his gaze. He sighed loudly, moving slowly to gather his things, stopping only to put on his pants and his shirt before tucking tail and heading home.

He’d fucking blown it.

By some miracle, he’d managed to get into her good books, his persistence and determination to show her just how madly in love with her he was–how in love with her he’d always been–weeks worth of it, and he’d messed up in a few minutes. A few glorious, amazing minutes.

He couldn’t help but groan in annoyance with himself every time he remembered it, the euphoria of being with her again, being inside her, of having her wet and needy and so eager for him only to get lost in it and risk a baby they hadn’t yet discussed. Hadn’t even really discussed getting married, not since he’d come back.

He didn’t even know why he’d thought it’d be okay. It had been purely instinctual but also irresponsible and disrespectful. It shamed him that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop craving it. He ignored it, though, continued on with showing her his reliability and hoped she understood that she was all he wanted.

Sleep eluded you for days, refusing to find you until the blood came. It wasn’t much better when it finally did, though. There was the initial relief, of course, there would be no child born out of wedlock, and you would not be treated like a pariah, but where did that leave you? He apologized for it, constantly. He groveled, he begged for your time and for your love and forgiveness, and it was his. It was there–ready for him, but the fear hid it away.

No matter how consistent he’d been in his time back, no matter how much he’d assured and explained that he wasn’t going to leave, it still felt like there was a clock ticking somewhere you couldn’t see, counting down the seconds until you’d be alone again.

You tried to focus on other things, filling your days with organizing your home, with clearing out things that no longer served you, things that you had brought over from when your mother died and had actively ignored or hidden away until genuinely forgotten. There were old, moth-eaten rags that had once been her clothes, a few books, and an old hairbrush. Amongst her things, though, was a bundle of paper, a fat wad of it.

Confused, you pulled it apart and very quickly realized that they were letters and they were addressed to you. It was jarring to see your name in Frankie’s script and harrowing to realize that you’d had them the whole time without knowing.

With shaking hands, you opened them one by one, and by the third, the tears obscured your vision.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I know you must be angry with me, things aren’t moving as quickly as they should, but this changes nothing–I’m still coming home to you–

He talked about his time in the war, about how differently they did things where he was, and about how much money he was saving, but between all that was the same promise of return. It was everywhere, that–and his pleas for a response from you.

Please sweetheart, I need to hear from you, please let me know you’re okay, and that you don’t hate me–

You sobbed into them. The words were like wounds, the pain of being alone for so long is even sharper now than it had been before. He had been true to his word, writing letter after letter without a single word from you, and despite the pain of knowing that fact, you read every single one. The dates were consistent, every week, almost like clockwork, except for once–when there were a few months between two letters.

Bluebell, my love,

I am okay–but I was hurt. I barely remember what happened, but one minute I’m in the middle of it, fighting, and the next minute I was screaming and then blackness, until I woke up in a hospital. Nurse says I’m lucky to be alive and that I’m going to be okay–

It was too much, all of it, and despite the fact that it was late and he was most certainly asleep, you had to see him.

The moon followed you on your walk towards his house, lighting the path and keeping you company. There was a soft glow shining out from one of his windows, and it inspired hope, making it easier to knock on the door despite the hour.

There was movement on the other side of the door, his heavy footsteps padding across the old floorboards.

“Who’s there?” Suspicion threaded thickly through his words, and you couldn’t blame him; this was no hour for anyone to come calling.

“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?” Your voice was shaky, the tears had abated while you made your way over, but the worried look on his face when he opened the door threatened to let them flow once more.

“What’s the matter? What happened?” He was shirtless, holding his pistol at his side while he looked beyond you to inspect the horizon. “Come in, come in—“ He closed the door behind you, setting the pistol down with a frown. “What’s the matter, Blue? Why are you out at this hour?”

“I—“ you choked on the word, clutching at his letters, “Frankie, I found them, my mother—“ you sobbed out words, choking on them before he sighed.

“Oh Honey, please don’t cry.” He gathered you up, pulling you into the strong cage of his arms, and it was like the floodgates cracked open wide. One palm held the back of your head, and the other was wrapped around your waist. “You didn’t know, it’s okay.”

“I, I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry,” your voice cracked with the agony of all of the lost years, “you wrote so many letters, and I never answered any of them, and you got hurt—oh god, you could have died!” It was hard to tell if you were screaming or sobbing anymore.

“Hey! Hey! Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he rubbed your back, a soothing gesture, “Hey, stop, stop, take a deep breath, I’m fine. I survived. There was nothing you could have done. I know you would have written to me if you’d gotten my letters, if you knew.” He pressed his lips to your temple. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I shouldn’t have left without you.”

“I should have known she’d do something like this. I–” You pulled away to look up into his eyes, “I am so angry at her. She let you carry on, just hid them without a care–even though she knew I was heartbroken.” You brushed his hair back before hugging him again.

“She never did like me. It was pretty cruel of her to do that to both of us.” He was being much more gracious about it than he should have, a testament to his love for you that he didn’t want to bash your mother despite the damage she’d done.

“Miserable old bitch.” You had no qualms about calling her what she was.

“Forget about her. It’s okay now. Thankfully, we’re together again.” He grabbed his pistol and led you further into the house.

Your fingers drew the shapeless pattern onto the warm skin of his chest for what must have been the hundredth time since the both of you tumbled into his bed an hour ago. It was still pitch black outside, the only light being a candle on his bedside. The sun would creep in soon enough, though, and when it did, it would find the two of you clinging to one another.

“I hate that you went through this alone.” Your fingers migrated down to the starburst on the side of his lower stomach, tracing the edges of it softly.

“I’m lucky, I made a full recovery.” His voice was soft, “I saw others get much worse.”

“That doesn’t minimize this, Francisco, you could have died out there, and I never would have known.” You squeezed your eyes together for a moment, ignoring the implications, “Can you ever forgive me? For not writing?”

“Only if you can find it in you to forgive me for being away so long and for what happened.” He pulled your hand up, pressing your knuckles to his lips.

“You’re forgiven for everything.” You frowned, “We hadn’t discussed our future, everything was still so up in the air, and I was terrified to get pregnant. Not because I don’t want to have your children, I was just terrified you'd leave me again and then I'd be here, alone and with a baby.” His face fell, guilt swirling around his features. “That was before. I believe you when you say you won’t and that you’re here for good.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then to his lips.

“I understand why that would have scared you. I shouldn’t have done it without permission, though. It was careless of me.” He pulled you closer, relishing in the contact just like he had in the early days. There was a beat, a comfortable silence, and it stretched on for a while, the two of you content to lay there until the stiffness of your dress pulled you away. He helped you take it off until you were in your simple shift, and then you took your place beside him once more.

“Francisco?” You murmured, wondering if he’d fallen asleep.

“Yes?”

“I never said, but I’m sorry about your parents.” He’d been gone for years when they passed.

“Me too.” He didn’t say more, and you didn’t press. “You should get some rest. Will you stay with me?”

“Yes, I don’t want to go.” He got up for a moment, pulling the rest of his layers off before blowing out the candle.

“Good, I didn’t want you to leave.” He slipped into the bed, pulling his sheet over the both of you before pulling you in close. “Goodnight, Honey.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

The sun shone bright enough to shoo the last vestiges of sleep away. It found you warm and comfortable under the comforting weight of his arm over your belly and his leg tangled with yours. He looked younger, asleep and you could almost see him just as he was when he’d left, fresh-faced and eager to see and do as much as he could. That fire for life and all it entailed, burning brightly in every expression.

Your thumb traced the line of his jaw first, sweeping up his chin to glide across his pursed lower lip. He twitched but didn’t wake, only tightened his grip on you. Your thumb slid up, following the curve of his nose, up to smooth across his brow.

He stirred again, humming softly before pressing closer still, burying his face into the crook of your neck and tickling you with his moustache.

“Is it morning already?” His voice was sleepy but laced with pure joy.

“Yes, it is. How did you sleep?” Your tone matched his, his joy was contagious, hope and happiness swirling in the air much like the dustmotes that danced in each shaft of light. Your hands had migrated down, fingers flitting across his broad back, relishing every inch, every errant freckle.

“Better than I have in years. How about you?” His lips made their own pilgrimage, from just below your ear, down the column of your neck, and down to your shoulder; each press of his lips widening the smile on yours.

“I slept really well. I forgot how warm you get when you sleep.” He laughed at this, good-hearted.

“Good, means you don’t need to wear this–” His hands slid under your shift, grabbing greedily at your thighs, then your backside.

“Very clever. Don’t you need to get up and go to work, Sheriff? Or am I under arrest?” There was no real bite behind your words.

“Hmm, I don’t know, are you? Are you here to confess to a crime? Aside from stealing my heart, that is.” You let out a bark of laughter, rising slightly to let him take the shift off of you despite the game.

“Is that what I’ve done? Stolen your heart?”

“Oh yes, years ago. First day you smiled at me, come to think of it.” He nodded sagely for a moment before pressing his lips to yours softly, making you both melt and drip for him.

“Well then, I guess I deserve my punishment.” You reached down, shimmying out of your underthings to bare yourself to him. He bit his lip before dipping low to lick at the stiff peak of your breast, soft as his kiss, before taking your nipple into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks. You moaned, watching him enraptured.

“I’ll be just and fair.” He smiled, after letting go with a pop, moving to the next one to give it the same treatment. Your fingers curled into his short crop while your thighs pressed together to alleviate the aching at your core. He sucked harder, frantically, and then there was the edge of pain when he bit softly, making you gasp for a second before he once again soothed with his tongue.

“God, woman, you make me crazy.” His eyes were wild for a moment before he claimed your mouth again, his tongue plundering without mercy.

“I want you, Frankie–give it to me.” You reached down to grasp him in hand, but he moved away, denying you.

“I want to make you feel good. Let me taste you again.” He moved down, his lips mapping a course down to where you wanted him most.

“I want you, though, Frankie, want you to make me sore. You can use your mouth later.” You held your arms out to him, and although he stared at your mound with hunger, he obeyed.

You spread your legs for him, and he slots his hips, pulling your legs high onto his thighs for a moment before sheathing himself in you with one brutal, delicious stroke.

“God, Frankie, you’re splitting me open.” You moaned the words into his ear, and his head dropped into your neck, groaning at your words.

You reach down to hold onto his ass, grabbing onto it as he thrusts.

“You want me like this? Or you want me on my knees like you used to like?” You whispered, and he moaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before pulling out. It was the only answer you needed before you moved to get into position, presenting yourself to him.

His thighs pressed against the backs of yours, his hand landing heavy on one ass cheek before he entered you from behind. He felt deeper this way, hitting something otherworldly with each press.

“That’s my girl, you gonna take my big dick Honey?” You moaned into your forearm, arousal burning bright as a coal in the pit of your belly from his words, from the slick sounds of your joining, from the way your nipples grazed against his bedding.

He bent forward, pulling at your arms to hold them behind your back, and once he did, his efforts doubled. He was a piston, ramming into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make you scream for him.

He moved you again, pulling you up to meet the solid wall of his chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder, one hand holding onto your breast, the other sliding down to swirl around your clit, shoving you headlong into a blinding climax.

“That’s it, baby, God, I can feel you squeezing my cock. Where do you want me to come? Can I come on your ass?” His words sounded frantic, and you nodded, barely whispering the words.

“Yes, Frankie–” He let you go, and you pressed your face into the mattress once more, spreading your legs a little wider before you felt him pull out, feeling the way his hand grabbed and spread you open while the other one pumped between your legs. You felt the hot spurt of him on the cheeks of your ass and the small of your back just as you heard the filthy groan he let out.

You both caught your breath for a moment, riding the wave of release before he moved and within a few minutes, he passed a cool, wet cloth across your skin, cleaning his mess off before discarding it and falling into bed beside you.

There was sweat on his brow, there was sweat on yours, too, but it didn’t matter, the euphoria was rich and sweet as fresh cider.

“I missed you so much, Frankie.” You turned to face him fully, the two of you naked and comfortable.

“I missed you too, Honey.” He pulled you close, wrapping you up in his arms, where you belonged.

–

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie x reader #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier au #tp au #frankie x f!reader

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creative-caramel-coffee · 7 months

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Hello!! I really like your writing, there is always such a nice level of care and comfort to your fics!!

I was hoping to request a wandanat x reader fic, where reader has chronic appendicitis and doesn’t realize it until she has to be rushed to the hospital from it getting so bad.

(Sorry this one is self indulgent because I had chronic appendicitis when I was younger, but I would also fake being sick to get out of school so when I actually had appendicitis my mom didn’t believe me. It would flare up like once every few months and just be the most debilitating painful thing I’ve ever experienced, made even worse when I had to try to walk and sit through school. She only finally believed something was wrong when I eventually had it on the weekend and immediately rushed me to the ER lol)

If you already have a fic like this or don’t wanna write it that’s so completely fine! Thank you and I hope you’re doing awesome!!! 💞

A Steady Decline

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Reader is in some weird pain. It feels like cramps from hell but its all wrong. What is it?

TW: Cramps, pain, surgery, mentions of injury, mentions of canon typical violence, pain medicine, needles (implied), hospitals, appendicitis

A/n Omg im so sorry this took so long, I have had so many requests and I finally got around to this one. Im sorry to everyone who’s waiting on requests and thank you all for being so patient with me :)

It started after a mission. It was a simple mission, and it went without injury so the pain didn’t make any sense. Maybe your period was coming early? What else would explain the weird cramping feeling in your midsection. But this felt slightly different. It's not where the cramps usually sat.

Walking off the quinjet behind Wanda and steve would normally be great after a mission with no injuries but your stomach really hurt. You plastered on a fake smile and did your best to stand at full height. Once you were clear of the jet Nat rushed over and pulled you and Wanda in for a hug.

“I miss you guys. How was the mission?” She said squeezing tight. You groaned softly and she immediately pulled away. Holding you at arm's length she scanned your body for injuries.

“Baby what’s the matter?” Nat said now in full spy mode.

“Yeah, love i didn’t see or hear anything about any injuries?” Wanda said looking both concerned and annoyed.

“Im fine. Just sore. Pretty intense fight with one of the stupid hydra agents.” You muttered and rolled your shoulders back to loosen the muscles. You winced as it moves your torso uncomfortably. Nat’s gaze narrowed but she let it go.

“If you're sure.” She said and Wanda seemed to dismiss it.

“Come on. I wanna shower before this debriefing.” Wanda said and grabbed your hand and started dragging you back to the shared room.

The pain seemed to settle, with the odd cramp and dull ache that had settled you were beginning to question if this really was your period or something else entirely. You pushed that thoughts away and began to strip for a shower. The heat of the water soothed your aching muscles but did little for the pain in your stomach. Was it your stomach? The pain seemed to almost be shifting to your lower right side. Your uterus didn’t move, did it? You almost laughed at the idea. Dismissing the thought.

After a warm shower you slipped on some tracksuits and a hoodie before throwing your hair into a messy bun and sliding on a pair of ratty old sneakers. They were old but you loved them to bits. Literally.

After brushing your hair, you went down to the briefing room now trying very hard to ignore the active pain that was shooting through your abdomen.

You ran your hands through your damp hair and hurried to your seat at the table. Resting your head on the desk you wrapped an arm around your midsection as you waited for the others to arrive. After a bit you heard footsteps and looked up to see the disapproving face of your redheaded spy girlfriend. Her arms were crossed as she looked you up and down her suspicions confirmed.

“Alright L/n whats going on? I know somethings up. Now spill.” She said.

“Im fine. Just … cramps … or whatever.” You said dismissively.

“Right…” she said slowly. “Cuz cramps make you all pale and sad.”

“Sad yes. Pale. No. Im not pale.”

“Yes. You are you-“ Nat began only to be cut off by your other girlfriend who came in.

“Whats going on?” Wanda asked, freshly showered.

“Y/n/n here is in pain and claims it's just cramps.” Nat said glaring at you with no real heat behind it. Wanda opened her mouth to speak but fury and steve entered and everyone took their seats.

You tried your best to pay attention, you really did but it hurt so bad. So so bad. You were curling in on yourself. And after a bit were fully zoned out.

Fury must have asked you something because there was a pause before Nat jabbed you in the ribs to get your attention.

However instead you curled in on yourself further, crying out and falling out of your chair. You didn’t really hear them tell Jarvis to get Bruce, you weren’t really present enough to remember the trip to the med bay. Or Bruce examining you while your girlfriends stood nervously by the door. You barely remember counting back as you breathed in the anaesthetisa. You just remember it hurting so much. Wanda and Nat were the last faces you saw before fading into darkness.

It was a soft darkness, kind of like an ocean. You floated around a bit and it felt nice. Spacey and soft. After a few seconds your conciseness faded all together and you drifted into a dreamless drug filled sleep.

But the next thing you knew, you woke in a white hospital room. There was a soft beeping of monitors as they measured your vitals. Based off the obnoxious sized poster of Ironman on the wall you knew you were in the tower's recovery ward. I mean of course it had one, with a team of superhero’s injuries were almost endless.

However, it was amusing Tony chose this room, or you assumed it was tony. This was the room where you met your girlfriends for a real introduction way back when pigs flew. It had been after a heat battle when you had stepped in and saved Wanda’s life. Who would have thought all these years later you would be back here. With them by your side again, but this time a whole new dynamic.

As you took stock of your surroundings you faintly realised the pain so much more tolerable. An IV was placed in the crook of your elbow with what you assumed was only the good stuff based off how buzzed and spacey your felt. Nat and Wanda were asleep either side of your bed each holding one of your hands. When you woke so did nat. Who immediately stood and brushed the hair from your eyes.

“Hey baby girl. How are you feeling honey?” She asked and you grinned back goofily.

“I feel great!” You slurred. Nat chuckled softly still carding her hands through your hair.

“Im sure your do love. Bruce has you on the strong stuff.” She said and Wanda made a noise as sat up rubbing her eyes.

“Morning sweetheart.” She said with a yawn “when did you wake up?”

“Natty woke me up.” You grinned and nat playful slapped your arm.

“No i didn’t you ass.” She said with a snort, and you gasped, clutching your arm in mock offence.

“Wands, she hit me.” You pouted and Wanda chuckled.

“Baby you kind of deserved it.” She said.

“Nooo. You're all ganging up on meee.” You whined and the two women chuckled.

You were stubborn as an ass and maybe the biggest flirt on the team. But Wanda and Nat would love you regardless, with or without an appendix.

MASTERLIST

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megamindsecretlair · 2 months

Note

i need me some one night stand Sam smut, maybe they met at a bar or mutual friend’s wedding/any event. whatever your little heart desires i just know that it’s gonna be amazing especially with Sam’s nasty behind. ily 🩷

A/N: I know I keep apologizing, but I am SOOO SORRY! I did not intend for this to take so long. I know you said it's cool, but I can't help it. Thank you for being so patient with me. ILY, ILY!

Feel Like I Do

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Some sentences are intentional AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), teasing, use of pet names, mentions of birth control, size kink, praise kink, one night stand smut.

Summary: See Ask. While out at a club for your friend's birthday, you bump into Sam. He's sweet, charming, and there's something achingly familiar about him. You go home with him, needing to see where this goes.

Word Count: 5,505k

A/N: When an ask kicks my ass, it kicks my ass!!!! However, once it finally came together, it flowed so beautifully. Thank you @planetblaque for helping me! ILY. This is based off of one my fave songs. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I love hearing your thoughts! I block ageless blogs.

Taglist: @multiversefanfics @chaos-4baby @leahnicole1219 @capswife @anghstybean @targaryenvampireslayer @sheabutterbabes @browngirldominion @theunsweetenedtruth @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @nerdieforpedro

The cover band was too loud. You grimaced as you made your way past the press of bodies towards the bar. You could barely hear the singer and the instruments sounded disharmonious on top of it. You hated nights like these. Why couldn’t your friend’s birthday fall during the week?

This was your favorite club but you mostly went during the week when you could sit back and relax. There were less people, less lecherous men, and you could actually hear who was playing. It was a great spot to discover new and local talent.

You shoved past a guy leaning in some poor girl’s face. You dug your elbow into his side hard enough for him to turn around. The girl he was speaking with gave you a grateful smile while she took off, disappearing into the crowd.

You waved innocently to the man. There was a small opening at the bar that you made a beeline for. As soon as you reached it, you lifted a hand to get the bartender’s attention. At the same time, a man bumped into you and raised his own hand.

“Hey!” You said.

The man looked at you and you gasped. He was so cute. Smooth chestnut skin, a neat goatee, and high cheekbones. He wore a simple outfit with dark jeans and a carmine T-shirt but he wore it extremely well. The shirt bunched around his upper arms, bulging under his massive muscles.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you! Please, go ahead,” he said. He waved for you to go ahead.

“Thanks. You’re not a regular here ,” you said.

The man shook his head. “Trying to cheer up my friend,” he said. He pointed to a section of the club where the booths were. There were two men sitting there. One with blond hair and looked like he bench pressed entire trucks for a living. The other had darker, longer hair and was whispering something to him.

“Girl troubles?” You asked.

“Always is. I’m Sam,” he said. He held out his hand. You shook his hand and introduced yourself. It was warm and big, strong in a way most men these days weren’t. You reluctantly dropped his hand, wondering what the hell was wrong with you. You just met the man and there was no reason to feel so..connected to him already. As if you knew him.

“What brings you to this madhouse tonight?” Sam asked. You both waved for the bartender’s attention, but he was too busy at the other end of the bar. It’d be a while before he made his way down this way. The other bartender was too preoccupied by a group of guys on the opposite end. Fuck, you just wanted a damn drink.

“Birthday for my friend,” you said. You pointed to your friends in a different booth. They were currently whooping, yelling and throwing their hands up while they danced. They looked like they were having fun. It was the goal and you were happy.

“Ah, so they send the errand people to grab their drinks, huh?” Sam asked.

“Seems like. But we’re good friends, so we’ll grin and bear it,” you said.

Sam nodded. “Since we’re gonna be here a while, you mentioned that I wasn’t a regular here. Does that mean you are?”

It was your turn to nod. You leaned on the bar and faced him better. There were too many people crowding on either side, screaming for the two bartenders behind the bar. They pressed against you until you were flush against Sam. To his credit, he did his best to get away and give you some room.

“Guess we’re getting personal tonight. How ‘bout your next drink is on me as an apology?” He asked.

Something about him was so disarming. It was unnerving. Your natural defenses were useless against him. Usually you were trying to get out of there as fast as you could. Picking up women in bars always seemed so cheesy to you. Full of bad pick up lines and beer goggles.

Sam seemed as sober as a judge. And he smelled divine. Something earthy. Something that reminded you of taking hikes in the forest, faint mist in the air, and the sound of a small waterfall nearby.

You hadn’t had much to drink but being near him was like you were buzzed. Like time was hazy and the only plane of existence was inside the club. You swayed a bit towards him. Drawn to his gravitational pull.

“I’d like that, but no apology needed.” You smiled at him, suddenly at a loss of what to do or say. Your body was becoming electrified. The sounds in the place receded to the background as your attention narrowed to Sam.

“No apology needed, but how about an answer to my question in exchange? Is it strange that I feel like we know each other?”

You grinned. Good, it wasn’t just you. You shook your head. “Right? Like what is that?”

Sam ran through places that you might have in common. Like grocery stores, no. Or gyms, hell no. He ran around nearabout the Washington monument every day in the wee hours of the morning.

“If I’m up before the sun is up, shoot me,” you said.

He laughed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He had a good laugh. One that you wanted to hear over and over.

“Not a morning person, huh?” He asked.

“Not even a little bit.” You were quite the terror in the morning when you woke up. As if the day owed you a personal favor for getting up on time. You had no time for morning chats or chores or anything that required brain activity until your first cup of coffee. Even then, it was hit or miss on how your mood would progress until the sun was higher in the sky and you didn’t feel like crawling back into bed.

You abandoned the drinks and simply talked to Sam. You learned more about him, about his time spent in the military and that he was a counselor now. You told him about your soul-sucking job and how you came here often to listen to local bands.

He had a great voice that melted like butter around everything he said. And the way he told a story made you feel like you were really there.

Every now and then, you would get bumped into and in turn, bump into him. Every push against his body was its own hit of dopamine. Every time he steadied you, his hands wrapped around your forearms, turned your brain to mush. Every time he smiled, you wanted to grab him and never let go.

“We still haven’t gotten any drinks,” he said.

You chuckled as you realized that you were probably talking to him for the last thirty minutes. In your own bubble, getting to know one another.

You looked towards your friends. They were still dancing but were now on their phones. You pulled yours out to see the dozens of missed texts. The threats to call the police started. You texted them back to know that you were still alive and not kidnapped. You showed Sam and he laughed.

“We’re pretty bad friends,” he said. He looked towards his own. The situation looked a bit better. Maybe the dark-haired one was able to cheer up the blonde.

“So bad! What are they gonna do with us?” You asked.

“Well, I still haven’t gotten you that drink but it doesn't look like we’re having much luck at the bar. I can’t let you leave without making it up to you,” he said.

You grinned and looked towards the dance floor. The cover band had mercifully stopped and now the DJ was spinning records you could actually dance to. You turned your attention back to Sam. “How about a dance?”

He looked towards the crowded dance floor and then turned back to you with a chuckle. “Think you can keep up?”

You giggled and stepped away from the bar. You glided your hand across his chest and he looked down to follow the movement. “Can you?” You asked.

Sam smirked. He grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor. The bottom of the floor was illuminated with squares of color. Neon blues, reds, and purples danced over you as you stepped onto the floor.

You started bobbing your shoulders and getting into the rhythm. Sam followed your lead, getting closer and shaking his hips. His hands coasted along your exposed arms in your black tank top, pulling you closer and closer. You grinned at him.

The song changed to a funky, techno type hip-hop song. It made everyone scream with joy. You popped your booty more to match the quick beat and Sam turned you around. He grabbed the belt loops of your jeans and pulled you closer into his body roughly, your back to his chest.

You twerked on him, rubbing and grinding your booty into his crotch. If you weren’t mistaken, he was definitely happy about that. He already seemed so thick and heavy behind his jeans but he had given no indication that his mind went there.

He dropped his head closer to your shoulder, his breath fanned across your damp neck. Sweat pooled along the slopes of your body. He switched up the way you were dancing on him, controlling your movements to the way he liked and you were powerless to do anything but go along with it.

You slid your hand along the back of his neck and cupped his head. He moaned in your ear as you continued this dance, rocking with each other like you wanted to devour each other whole.

You thought that feeling like you were the only two people in the room was a joke. Experiencing it with Sam was surreal as no one else mattered. No one else existed.

He moved his hands from the belt loops to grab your hips. His fingers rode up your shirt a fraction so that he could play with your skin where your jeans stopped. Just that tiny bit of friction, his calloused fingers rubbing along your smooth skin, made your panties even more soaked than what they already were.

You were in tune with this man. You felt him on a cellular level. Every breath of his tugged at your cells. Every sound he made tickled your veins. Everytime he ground his hips into you, to let you know nonverbally that he was feeling you, was like a twitch in your muscles.

Your bodies moved in sync. Neither one of you could keep your hands from roaming. Seeking. A compulsion for more and more. There was no end in sight. No limit for this need driving you. A need to feel him, all of him.

Sam kissed your neck, licked right over the pounding vein in your neck and you dropped your head back against his shoulder. This felt too right. Too overwhelmingly good that you wanted to freeze this moment. To exist in limbo with him.

His thumbs pressed into your lower back and you moaned. Sam continued kissing up your neck until you turned your head. Your lips pressed together, a mini explosion all its own that rocked you to your core.

His lips were warm, inviting. His breath was minty with a subtle hint of beer. He kissed as well as he danced. Perhaps better.

“Come back to my place,” he said against your lips and then dived in for another scorching kiss.

“Yes,” you answered, though he hadn’t phrased it like a question. God, you wanted to see where this could go. It was soul crushing to part for even a minute. You didn’t know him. But you felt like you did. Like you had known him your entire life.

He stopped dancing and took your hand from his head. He pulled you off of the dance floor. “Meet me outside and then follow me to my place.”

You nodded. You departed, holding onto each other until you’d either have to let go or risk injury. You watched each other until the crowd obscured him. You took a deep breath, returning to reality for half a second.

You poked your way through the crowd, reaching your friends at the booth.

“Who the hell was that?” Your friend, Alana, said and waved a napkin in front of her face. The birthday girl, Cece, nodded her head.

“Shit, I feel like I need a damn cigarette,” she said.

You waved them off. Your insides were jelly, a giddy nervousness that wouldn’t quit. “Will you hate me for dipping?”

“One of us needs to get laid. Go ‘head girl,” Cece said and hi-fived you.

“I love you, I love you,” you said. You hugged them both and made them promise to look out for each other.

“I’ll accept my name as the middle name for the baby ya’ll finna make!” Cece yelled and you smacked her arm.

“Nasty ass!” You waved goodbye and headed to the parking lot. You kept expecting for that feeling to disappear. That desperate neediness in your veins to return to Sam and never leave his side. But it never did.

It increased tenfold when you reached outside. The cool air fell over your sweaty skin like stepping into a freezer. It should have woken up your senses. You didn’t “do” one night stands. You didn’t randomly go with strangers and have sex.

However, seeing Sam standing by his car made you want to jump his bones even more. He saw you approach and he smiled.

“You can change your mind if you want to,” he said.

“I don’t want to,” You said and smiled.

He told you to follow him. Your eyes cataloged everything about him. The way he moved, the way he talked. The way he stood there and radiated peace and calmness like walking melatonin.

You climbed into your car and followed Sam. He didn’t live far. He lived out in a bunch of townhomes, neat and tidy in their uniform rows. You supposed that to a military person, this would feel like home.

Sam parked first and you parked in front of his place. He got out of the car and so did you. You made your way to him. Nerves prevented you from speaking but there was a comfortable familiarity with him that didn’t require words from either of you.

He grabbed your hand and led you into his house. It was tastefully decorated and most importantly - clean. There were too many grown men comfortable with living in absolute filth and had the nerve to think women were just supposed to excuse it away.

Sam turned on a few lights, enough to see by. After locking the door and throwing his keys on the table beside it, he faced you.

He slowly approached, his eyes raking over your body. You felt it like a physical caress. His face showed nothing but appreciation and desire. He liked what he saw. And damn, did you like what you were seeing as well. He moved like a large cat, like a lion lazily stretching its muscles.

He stepped to you and then tilted your head up by your chin. He grinned and then closed his eyes, kissing you softly. Reverently. Like it was a long-lost reunion after decades apart. You felt like you would float away at any moment.

He deepened the kiss. He grabbed both sides of your face, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough. Your hands finally grabbed his thick arms, rubbing his shoulders and hanging on. He moaned low in his throat, continuing to be content with just kissing you. Tasting you.

“Upstairs? I’m assuming?” You asked.

“Beauty first,” he said. He let you go so you could turn around and head towards the stairs. You passed by pictures of him growing up. Two parents and what looked like a sister. There were more pictures of the sister with kids. Pictures of Sam with his unit.

Sam placed his hands on your hips and escorted you to his room. He turned on a lamp and the light was a little harsh but still intimate. The walls were painted a deep, soothing blue. His sheets matched the walls and he had blinds on the window.

He wasn’t much for useless junk. Everything had its place and section. He’d have a fit if he saw your place. It was clean, but you definitely tended to cherish trinkets, gadgets, or souvenirs. Proof of life. Of love. Of friendships and relaxing trips.

You faced him with a smile. There was no rush here. Nothing to indicate that he was trying to pressure you in any way. You grinned wider and reached for your shirt, throwing it on the floor.

Sam’s eyes widened, taking in your peek-a-boo turquoise bra. He licked his lips. Feeling emboldened by his obvious desire, you stripped out of your shoes and jeans, kicking them off to the side.

“I show you mine…” you sang. You grinned and sidled up next to him, reaching for his shirt. He helped you pull it off of him. Fuck, he was gorgeous. He was all smooth skin and muscle. Stack on top of stack. He took his physical health seriously. Your hands rubbed all over every inch you could reach.

Sam’s heavy breathing filled the room as you touched him. You stared into his eyes and leaned down to place a kiss over one of his pecs. He grinned. “Like what you see?”

“You know damn well how fine you are,” you said.

“Don’t mean I don’t wanna hear it,” he said.

“You are so fucking hot,” you said. You might have drooled. Didn’t care.

Sam chuckled as he finally shed his own boots and jeans, revealing black briefs and an impressive bulge. You reached for it, ready to feel that too but he grabbed your wrists before you made contact. You pouted at him.

“I was raised to be a gentleman. So get your sexy, gorgeous ass on that bed and spread them pretty legs for me,” he said.

Shivers wrecked you. There was no breeze in the house to blame it on. No whir of the A/C to excuse it away. His words alone had you rubbing your thighs together and grinning.

You backed up into the bed, holding his gaze. He licked his lips while you sat down and then scooted onto the bed. He stalked closer so that he could maintain that shared look as you laid down and got comfortable on his plush mattress.

Sam tilted his head at you. You rolled your eyes and spread your legs like he asked you to. He made a pleased sound that you felt down to your toes.

He reached out and rubbed your thighs and legs, getting you used to his touch. He hooked his rough fingers around your matching panties and tugged them down. He whistled softly as he got a peek at your glistening center.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he said. He looked up at you. As he descended down with a kiss to your tummy, he asked, “Can I taste it?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. Your breathing turned choppy.

He placed kisses along your lower tummy, not touching your pussy at all. His hands remained locked around your thighs, holding them open. He started to move down, kissing along your thighs. He stopped when he reached your inner thigh.

“Can I play with it?”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned.

His fingers massaged your thighs, digging deep and finding knots you didn’t know existed. You moaned, unable to stop yourself from squirming under his methodical hands. His thumbs traced patterns as he massaged you, tracing small circles into your skin. He kept his hands moving, gripping and learning you. His thumbs caressed the inside juncture of your legs, where your thighs met your pelvis.

“Oue, shit,” you moaned.

Sam chuckled and brushed his goatee against your skin. His face was smooth earlier but there were the beginnings of prickly stubble that rubbed along your thighs. You were unused to this type of teasing. Where it felt like your skin would melt off if he didn’t do something soon.

He placed lazy kisses to your inner thighs, making each area tingle. You felt phantom kisses all over and you continued to squirm.

“Calm down, relax,” he said against your skin.

“How can I? You’re driving me insane,” you said.

“Insane? Good. I wanna drive you to total and complete madness,” he said.

Fuck.

He kept placing these kisses along your skin and your body twisted and bowed off of the bed the closer he approached your pussy. You were probably already leaving a nice little puddle on his covers already.

“Sam, please,” you sighed. His fingers felt heavenly but you wanted more. You wanted to feel him.

“I’m sensing some impatience,” he said.

“Hella impatience,” you said.

Sam chuckled. You thought he’d say something else. You thought you’d get a warning and brace for whatever it was that he did next. But when his tongue flattened against your pussy, you leaned off of the bed with a long moan.

Your hands flew to his head, clutching him to you. He waited with his tongue against your pussy as you panted, twisted, and turned on the bed. That small act felt like a lightning strike. Sam kept your legs open waiting for you to calm down.

You took quick, choppy breaths trying to calm yourself down. This was so fucking embarrassing. You should not be this overly excited when he hasn't even done anything yet.

You planted your ass on the bed and then Sam groaned, licking up run away arousal. “Fuck, you taste so good. So sweet,” he said.

Your laugh was breathy. “It’s uh, been a while,” you said.

“That’s okay. Me too,” he said.

“Is this where I find out something’s wrong with you to scare off women?” You asked.

Sam laughed, kissing your thigh and leaving a wet mark behind. “I can only say that I just haven’t found the right woman yet.”

You were going to say something else but then he started licking in earnest. As if you were his own personal ice cream cone. He moaned more, settling further onto the bed. Then he really dug in.

You scratched his scalp as he ate you out. You couldn’t stop gyrating and grinding your hips into his mouth. He moaned and sucked and licked until your legs were shaking and you were screaming out your orgasm. Screaming at the ceiling and any neighbors nearby.

“Oh fuck!” You shook and twitched. As you came down, you leaned up. But Sam gave you a wink and dived back down, licking you again and teasing your entrance with his tongue.

“Sam?” You asked, but ended on a moan. Your clit was sensitive and you twitched with every pass.

“I ain’t done yet,” he moaned into your pussy.

You made a garbled, panicked sound. The hell did he mean he wasn’t done? He continued to lick and suck, wet smacking noises bouncing off of the walls. Your moans mixed with his. Both of you totally dedicated to the giving and receiving of oral pleasure.

Your tummy tightened, contracted, pulling another orgasm out of you. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god,” you chanted, unable to control your body or thoughts. You were out of your mind with pleasure.

Your lungs burned since you couldn’t draw in enough air to properly breathe. You felt dizzy and disoriented. “Oh fuck,” you said.

Sam leaned back and smacked his lips. You barely managed to look down at him over your belly. His lower jaw was drowning in your juices. He gave you a wink and kissed your thigh. “Okay?” He asked.

You nodded, too far gone to speak.

“Good, I still ain’t done,” he panted. He took a deep breath and latched right back onto your clit.

“Shit!” You yelled, trying to scoot away from him. Those muscles were not just for show. He pinned your legs to the bed, opening you up further. He held you in place as he returned to devouring his meal, heedless to your desperate pleas and cries.

“Sam, Sam, Sam,” you said as you tapped on his head.

He lifted his head. “You okay?”

“T-too much,” you said.

“Aww, need a break?” He asked.

You nodded, tears swimming to your eyes. “I’m still hungry. Give me one more,” he said.

“What!” He returned to your pussy, licking all around your clit and making your eyes roll back in your head. You were unused to this much pleasure, this much bliss. Before long, another orgasm was steamrolling over you and robbing you of breath.

True to his word, he stopped and kissed up your thighs and rubbed his wet beard into your skin. He nibbled on your tummy. You felt all of this distantly, knowing he was doing it but what was one more sensation as you calmed down from your orgasm? Your nerves were on fire. Singed right down to the atom.

Sam rubbed your stomach. You closed your eyes and snuggled into the feeling. Of the tranquility you felt by his side.

“You are so mean,” you said.

Sam chuckled. He leaned over and started kissing your cheek and jaw. You faintly smelled yourself on him and it made you want to lick his face. His lips moved lower to whisper in your ear. “You should’ve warned me that you taste so damn good. I could spend all night in between your legs. Tasting that pretty pussy,” he said.

“Fuck. Sam,” you said. You turned your head to look into his pussy drunk eyes.

He grinned. He brought his hand up to caress your cheek. “You’re really gorgeous.”

“You’re gonna kill me,” you said.

He laughed. “I hope not. I feel like I’d miss you too much even though we just met,” he said.

You were completely limp as a noodle. You were relaxed and lethargic, incapable of doing anything more than concentrating on your breathing. However, you were a lady.

You got to your elbows and then reached for his briefs. You cupped him, running your hands over the material. Even though the color was black, there were obvious wet spots there. Sam groaned, rolling his eyes back.

He nudged his face against you, seeking your lips without opening his eyes. You obliged, kissing him and tasting yourself on his tongue. It was a heady thing.

You did the same thing he did to you. You kissed along the corners of his mouth, his jaw, his neck, and his beautiful chest. You moaned your appreciation for his body as you climbed down his body, grabbing his briefs and tugging them down.

His dick sprang free. Slightly curved and smooth, the tip leaked with precum. You licked your lips and settled onto the side of him so you could take him in your mouth.

“Fuck, me,” he groaned.

You worked his shaft into your mouth, coating it with your saliva. As you did, you bobbed your head up and down sucking him all the way to the back of your throat. His groans spurned you on to go faster, further, wanting to hand deliver the same pleasure he did for you.

His hips started to jerk the faster you sucked him down until he was pushing at your shoulders to get up. You wiped your mouth and looked at him quizzically.

“I want to cum while I’m inside you,” he said. He gave you a dark, feral look that made your pussy throb. How was it that he was so damn gorgeous and generous on top of it? It was like you found a unicorn. Or a man built for your pleasure.

You grinned. “I’m on the pill,” you said.

He closed his eyes briefly and took a few deep breaths. “Don’t tell me that,” he said.

You kissed his thick, powerful thighs and rubbed your cheek against his legs. The tiny hairs there tickled your face but you looked up at him. “I’m on the pill,” you said again.

He groaned and then got to his knees on the bed. He kissed you, his big beautiful lips slanting against yours. He was a nasty kisser. Tongues dueling against each other, lips smacking, moaning and groaning into each other’s mouths.

He pulled you onto your knees until he positioned you on your back. He fell over you and settled in between your legs, rubbing his large dick against your inner thigh. He humped you, grinding his dick against your clit.

“Please, please, please,” you chanted.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Hell yes, please Sam. Please, I need to feel you,” you said.

Sam grinned and went back to kissing you. He used one hand to guide himself inside you and you shared a loud groan. He was large. Stretching you to your limit.

“Fuck!” You yelled.

Sam kissed you and waited as you adjusted to his length. He slowly worked himself inside until he was able to glide more easily, aided by your essence. Once he was down to the hilt, he paused and looked into your eyes.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he said. He kissed you again, sweeter this time.

Slowly, he began moving. He groaned and sped up as if he couldn’t help himself. As if every slide inside of you was like climbing the staircase to heaven. Before long he was pounding inside of you, pounding you into the bed while still kissing you.

You would never get enough of kissing him. Your heart felt like it was ready to burst. He was so damn sweet and caring while being absolutely fucking nasty. You had never had sex like this. Sex that completely enveloped every inch of you and lit you on fire. Sex that made you feel seen and heard and like your pleasure came first.

He was driving your ass into the bed with the force of his thrusts. “Fuck, Sam! Fuck, Sam!” You gripped onto his forearms, nails digging into his skin.

“Hm, give me another one. Another one, beautiful,” he said.

As if your pussy responded to the command, you were squeezing him as you were cumming. You shouted, loudly, your body curling in on itself as the orgasm rolled through you and over you.

“Shit,” Sam whispered against your lips as he came. His hips were still moving to the pace he set, the momentum causing him to fuck his cum into you deeper and deeper. His dick pulsed inside, filling you completely.

“OH, fuck!” You shouted.

Sam dropped against you and you both caught your breath. He was deliciously sweaty, and all masculine energy as he laid on top of you. He leaned to one side to try and lessen his weight but you clutched his shoulders, hugging him.

“Stay, for a moment,” you said. He was the perfect size and weight to act as a weighted blanket. He laughed as he placed his weight back on top of you.

“You’re cute. And funny,” he said, nudging his goatee against your cheek.

“You’re cute and funny,” you echoed. Even after everything you shared, you were hungry for more. He seemed to have the same thought. He couldn’t stop rubbing against you. You welcomed it, not willing to leave him just yet.

He softened inside of you and then slowly pulled out. You were sad to miss the feel of him on top of you. He pecked your lips and disappeared into an adjacent bathroom. You heard the water running and then he was returning.

He placed a warm washcloth to your pussy and gently cleaned you up. He grinned as you made incoherent noises. He finished and returned the washcloth to the bathroom.

“Will you agree to stay ‘till the morning? I make a mean pancake,” he said.

“Mean, you say?” You asked. You stretched out like a fat cat, working out little kinks and tweaks from vigorous sex.

“Mean as hell. Probably got sent to jail a few times over it,” he said.

You laughed at his corny joke. He sat on the bed and waited for your answer. You smiled. “I suppose I have to see if you can back up this claim,” you said.

“Oh, I can definitely back it up,” he said.

“Oh, definitely. Someone is definitely cocky,” you said.

Sam chuckled as he helped you sit up so that he could pull the covers off of the bed. He grabbed another one from a closet in the hallway and then draped it over you. He climbed into the bed and snuggled up next to you on his side.

You talked, giggled, and kissed until the wee hours of the morning. You hated to admit it, but the pancakes were definitely mean and slamming.

Whew! Did you know I have a Sam series? Find more Sam here: The Secret Sam Wilson Files

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Sam Wilson Files #Sam Wilson x Black!reader #Sam Wilson x Black reader #x Black reader #Sam Wilson x Fem!reader #Sam Wilson x Fem reader #x Fem reader #Sam Wilson x reader #x reader #Sam Wilson x you #Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson fanfic #Sam Wilson fan fic #Sam Wilson fan fiction

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oleander-nin · 11 months

Note

Heyy.!

I'd like to request a little sister turtle reader.! If you have seen @buggy-cj, I have requested a little sister reader from her.! And she did an awesome job, and I've just read and seen most of your posts. And WOW.! People know how to create masterpieces, really-

Little sister is 12, and has a dark green mask. And unlike her brothers, she doesn't have any markings on her body. She's just a regular pond turtle. So she feels really insecure from being different from her family. Since she's the only girl, and she isn't very special in her opinion.

Thank you for reading this.!!

A/N, not important: Sorry this took so long, I struggled pretty badly with it :/. ASLO, I'm going to be gone for the next week, and will be unable to look at tumblr from Sunday, May 28th, to Thursday, June 1st. You can still talk to me all you want, but please be patient when waiting for my response. This is my last request I needed to get done with before I could start working on the 100/200 follower special. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: crying, reader being kind of cold to their siblings, feelings of self-doubt and inferiority, my writing

Words: 1623

Summary: Your confidence was shot, and the self-loathing was seeping in. Sometimes, all you need is a hug from your father to get it all to spill out.

Curled up against the corner of the subway cart where my bed sat, I read my book, headphones on but no music playing. My eyes run over the same lines over and over, my brain not processing the words. I groan, flitting back a page so I could understand what was going on, trying to ignore the turbulence of my emotions, just as I was ignoring my brothers. I wipe my eyes again as another tear escapes my hold, holding my breath until the uncertainty and sorrow slips back down my throat. I take a deep breath, glancing at the mirror Mikey helped hang on my wall, making sure there wasn’t any sign of my tears.

A knock at the metal walls of my room startles me, my book slamming shut in my hands. I flip through the pages with gritted teeth, trying desperately to find my page. I glance up at Leo as he enters, his hands on his hips as he smiles down at me. “Ah, sorry. Did I scare you?” Leo’s voice floods my ears, his presence bringing up the feelings of inferiority I was trying to shove down.

I grumble a bit, marking my page before setting my book down, glaring at my older brother in annoyance. Leo just grins at me, his teeth showing as he laughs slightly. Leo starts to pull me by my arm, trying to drag me off my bed. “C’mon, Mikey made dinner. He wants everyone at the dinner table, pronto!”

I groan but slide off the bed, grabbing my green mask and tying it on before letting Leo drag me towards the kitchen. We both hurry to the kitchen, sliding into the chairs right as Mikey sets a big pot of stew on the table. I silently thank him, nodding my head as we all start to serve ourselves, Raph and Donnie having already been seated. I eat my food, mindlessly listening to the conversation flowing around me, only giving input when specifically prompted. I tried to ignore the way Raph stared, the concern in his eyes growing. I pretended to not notice the side glances Donnie and Leo gave me at my non-committal answers. I avoided Mikey’s worried eyes.

I silently chew at the chunks in my stew, staring intently at the grain of the table, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Raph clears his throat, trying to get my attention. I ignore him.

“(Y/n),” Raph starts, his voice low, care and sympathy mixed with agitation. All other conversation goes silent, everyone staring at Raph and I. I glance up at Raph, but don’t respond. He sighs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Are you okay? I can’t help but notice you’ve been… Distant, lately. Raph’s worried. We’re all worried.”

I pick my head up, bringing my spoon to my mouth and loudly slurping the contents of the stew. Raph’s eye twitches as his chasm deepens.

“He’s not kidding, (Y/n). We’ve all noticed your… Lack of energy. We just want to know what’s going on.” Mikey chimes in, stirring his bowl of stew absent-mindedly. Leo and Donnie nod, agreeing with what Mikey said.

Leo shifts in his seat, leaning in close to me and slinging his arm around my shoulder. He tugs me closer, a sad smile on my face as he noogies the top of my head. I huff, pushing him off and fixing my mask after he knocked it crooked. Leo smiles softly, patting my head before I could pull back. “You know you can talk to us, right? We’re your older brothers, not your enemies. We can tell something’s wrong.”

They all look at me expectantly, as if they thought their words would magically get me to spill everything out. I take another bite of my food, chewing obnoxiously long. Raph’s eyebrow muscles furrow, his mouth opening as if he was about to say something, but I cut him off. “I though this was dinner, not an interrogation.”

Raph glares at me as I continue to eat my dinner, picking my bowl up and drinking the rest down. I felt bad, guilt starting to swirl in with the rest of the misery and feelings of inadequacy. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand when I finish my stew, standing up and punishing the chair back with the back of my legs. “I’m going back to my room. Have fun.”

“We’re going on a patrol, actually.” Donnie corrects, scrolling through his phone. I look at him, frowning.

“Not going. Have fun.” I say, dropping my bowl off in the sink and starting to wash it out. Leo stands up as Raph sputters, Leo patting Raph on the shoulder and whispering something to him before joining me at the sink with his own bowl. He nudges me to the side, taking over the sink and washes the bowls out before silently handing them to me to dry.

“Why don’t you want to go?”

I look at Leo, drying the bowls with the towel before setting them on the counter. I shrug, not sure what to say. Leo hands me the next bowl, turning around and leaning against the counter.

“You know you can trust us with anything, right? We’re not going to get mad if you’re upset, or if something’s wrong. We just want to help you.” We both ignored the hushed arguing coming from the table.

I look away from Leo, putting the bowls back away. Leo lets out a breath, patting me on the back. “You don’t have to go. I’ll talk to the others.” He says quietly, letting me escape to my room. I smile gratefully at Leo before slipping out of the kitchen, the others too busy arguing to notice my escape.

As Leo promised, I was able to stay in my room, the sound of the four older turtles leaving the lair reverberates across the concrete walls. I curl up against the corner of the wall where my bed sat once more, trying to get through my book despite the thoughts racing through my head. I shift on my bed, frustrated. I through my book across my room, curling my knees to my chest as I bury my face into them, sniffling slightly. Everything I had said at dinner, being that crass towards my brothers who only wanted to help, to know what was wrong. It all just added to the mountain of emotion building upon my shoulders.

I rip my mask off, throwing it to the floor as well, tears leaking from my eyes faster then I could wipe them away. I jump slightly when I feel a hand on my shoulder, a small pressure from weight. I wipe my eyes, looking up to see the face of my father, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“What is wrong, Green?” He asks softly, moving to sit on my bed. I skooch over, still siting with my knees to my chest and my arms crossed over them. I look at my dad before looking back at my covers, wiping my eyes on the rough, scaly skin of my shoulder. “Why aren’t you with your brothers? Blue told me something was wrong.”

My bottom lip quivers slightly and I look away, not meeting my fathers gaze out of embarrassment. It takes all but one glance at Splinter’s worrisome expression before I start spilling my heart out. All the feelings doubt, self-loathing, and every insecurity I felt came tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop, my father sitting next to me as he silently listened.

Splinter nods, his arms reaching out for me, hesitating for a moment before pulling me into a hug. He rubs my shell as I cry, whispering soft words of encouragement to me.

We sit there for what feels like hours, Splinter only holding me tightly in comfort. It was clear he was not sure what to do, and I couldn’t help but feel grateful for how hard he was trying. Once the tears end and devolve into nothing more than small hiccups, my father speaks. “Thank you for telling me this. I- Your brothers are worried, and if you’re okay with it, I think they should know as well. You are not a burden to them, (Y/n). I promise you that.”

I let out a wet scoff, my throat still swollen with tears. “Everyone else is special though. Their powers work, and- and I don’t even have markings! I’m not special, or as strong, or as fast. I can’t do everything they can.”

“Raph doesn’t have marking either.” Splinter says softly. “And Leo struggled with his teleportation for years. You’ll get better with time, you just have to work on it. I’m sure your brothers would be delighted to help. Raph especially, if you want to train.”

I nod, frowning slightly. Splinter stays quiet, not sure how else to help. He continues to rub my back, being a silent rock to hold me steady in my storm. My head perks up and Splinter’s ear twitches when we hear a intelligible shouting and laughter coming near the entrance of the lair, signaling the return of the other turtles. Splinter looks at me, silently asking my permission to talk with them. I nod again, too choked with tears I was determined to hold back to talk.

Splinter picks my mask back off the floor, wiping the wet trails from my face before carefully tying it over my eyes. He holds my chin, rubbing my cheek softly as he tries to soothe me. I lean into his palm, appreciating how hard my father was trying. “Let’s go talk to your brothers.”

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 5 months

Text

141+Vaqueros+Nikolai (+OC) headcanons: Being sick

Disclaimer: these are here because of the (awesome) influence of @nrdmssgs @sofasoap and @eenochian who feed my stupidity. Also, these are my personal headcanons that I use in my little world, any coincidence or discrepance with other headcanons is not intended

Price:

He treats being sick as another nuisance, a problem to be solved/suffered until it ends

He would be caught dead before complaining or asking for anything (unless he's like, REALLY sick, he's not stupid or reckless)

Will loudly sniffle around you in the hopes you'll catch on and start coddling him, which he absolutely will tolerate for your sake (/s)

Gaz:

In my headcanon he's an older brother, which means it's most likely that at the same time he was sick, any of his younger siblings was sick as well (most likely the one that made him sick)

So he's used to fend for himself for the most part

If you coddle him though, he's all for it and quite happy to be pampered

Soap:

He's dying

So dying that he's lying on the sofa and writing his will because bonnie, he's dying and wants you to have his things

The only thing that would make his passing better is if you cuddle and pamper him, because nobody in the history of any human civilization has suffered as he's suffering right now

Ghost:

If he can fake it, he will and nobody would know he is sick

If he can't fake it, he'll hide to suffer/die in solitude

He is afraid of feeling/being considered weak or unmanly because of his father's doing, so asking for/accepting help is off the charts

If he is seriously ill though, he'll only confide in Price

If you find out though, he might grumble and insist he's alright and doesn't need help, but secretely will love every bit of pampering and coddling.

Nikolai:

Has no shame. Will exaggerate his symptoms just to get more cuddles from you

Straight up lying on your lap and whine: 'Любовь моя, i don't feel well'

Will accept you fussing over him with great dignity, coughing and loudly sneezing on command if needed

If he's truly sick though, he won't want you anywhere near him in fear of making you sick (of course you won't listen and will pamper him anyway, he'd do the same for you)

Rudy:

Much like Price or Gaz, he powers through it

World won't stop because he's sick, so lying like a wet towel isn't going to fix anything

If you happen to be down for some cuddling or coddling him though... who is he to deny your wish?

Alejandro:

He would pretend to be suffering in silence, but somehow makes it known to you that he is sick

Gravitating around you while coughing from time to time in the hopes you will catch on: 'Ale, amor, are you alright?' 'I'll live, hermosa, *cough* don't you worry for me'

When you insist on taking care of him he will protest for about a whole two minutes before giving in happily

You can stop reading here lol

Riot:

Worst patient in history

She powers through it anyway without saying anything, no matter the seriousness of it. High pain tolerance, low bullshit tolerance.

If she's sick, she wants to die in silence in a corner, unbothered, thank you very much

Will hiss or grumble if bothered

Will only go to the doctor if Soap (or his mother) forces her

Will only go to the hospital if dragged there unconscious

Hates to be fussed over (big fat lie, she's just awkward about it, but there's nothing better when she has period cramps than being in Simon's arms all snuggled up in one of his hoodies and his big warm hand on her lower belly)

On the other hand she gets out of her way to take care of everyone else if sick: cooking, baking, listening, telling them off if needed

#cod oc headcanon #cod headcanons #cod hcs #cod mw2 #cod oc #call of duty #cod original character #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty original character #call of duty modern warfare 2 #los vaqueros #141 headcanons #taskforce 141 #cod 141 #task force 141 #tf 141

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tanoraqui · 9 months

Note

I love your world building! Your name ideas are awesome. Love the idea of Indis being a true prophetic mother name

-@outofangband

Belated thank you! Also, sharing my thought process on that one because it's a very classic Silmarillion headcanon origin: it bothers me that Indis's name means "bride." I hate how it reduces her to a feminine trope - at "best", only here to have a troubled marriage; if you're a staunch Fëanorian, a femme fatale homewrecker. I immensely dislike how this is, in fact, an fairly accurate description of her role in the story...

Which is deliberate on Tolkien's part! The "canonically correct" way to ameliorate this misogyny (though neither erase nor excuse it) is to remember that this whole text is a mixture of history, legend and myth passed through multiple storytellers over thousands of years, translated and re-translated and interpreted through the eyes of elves and men and hobbits and men again, until even if this person ever actually existed in the history of Middle Earth - IF! - "Indis" probably wasn't even her epessë, much less her commonly used name. Probably her name got ink blotted on it at some point, or mixed up with someone else's name, and the next Númenorean scholar to rewrite the text followed the Archetypal School of historical interpretation and decided to name her "Indis" because of her role in the story...

But this, too, bothers me. Because I love the framing device of these various books, I love the historian-given dubious canonicity of literally every detail of The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, and especially of The Silmarillion. But! We need some solid canon upon which to hang all our headcanons, so it's imperative to retain a delicate mental balance of knowing everything could be made up (more than it already is by being fiction!) while also adhering to as much as possible as something that Really Did Happen - and names are pretty solidly in the latter category. I mean, everyone has multiple and for those who don't, we tend to make more up, but a belief in the basic premise of the text is necessary in order to function in any fandom, and "names of characters" is pretty "basic premise."

So it's impossible to ignore that her name is Indis; and it's impossible to ignore that the name "Indis" is closely connected to her place in the narrative, more than most characters, and that said place is uncomfortably non-feminist - you can round out her character all you like, but you have to admit that her role in the story is to be the Second Wife and Mother whose acts of being a wife and mother cause trouble! That's a fact! And it's not great! And the name "Indis" isn't helping because if she was named anything but her literal narrative role, that would be characterization! She could be noble like Artanis, she could be of the sea like Eärwen, but she's not! She's just "bride"!

...so, I redeem this by making this definition of her life deliberate within the text - and not just by a future Númenorean scholar, but by Indis's mother. (Female! O! Cs!) Furthermore, names of prophecy are implicitly grand (even if they're not necessarily either good or bad). It makes being a bride itself feel more active - and why not! Do Indis's acts of love and marriage not change the fate of the world just as much as Lúthien's? Consider that Indis's act of marriage is so important that it echoes back through the Great Music to be known by her mother as she held the future bride as a babe in arms. Consider a mother holding her child under stars beside a lake and going, "damn, this kid is gonna have ripple effects. I should add a bragging warning label."

Also, if you accept the headcanons that

a) most Elvish languages treat "sex" (physical) and "marriage" (soul-bonding) as basically synonymous; and

b) Indis spends thousands of years in the Second/Third ages patiently and stubbornly figuring out how to Make It Work between herself, Finwë and Miriel, such that all three of them can marry with genuine all-around mutual love unto the end of days, for peace among the still-troubled Noldor but mostly for happiness for herself and those she loves most (also an act of bride-ship worthy of prophecy, note) -

then you can with a straight face imagine Indis saying, "I fucked my way into this mess and I'm going to fuck my way out of it."

Feminist critique + consideration of canonical historicity + elaborate headcanon web = sex joke! Now that's good fandom!

#indis #outofangband #the silmarillion #analysis #vanyar #feanor and feanor's kin #(WHETHER HE LIKES IT OR NOT)

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rollerskate2theface · 1 year

Text

Stranger Things future AU where Eddie becomes famous

*During an Corroded Coffin interview*

Eddie: Oh yeah a TON of weird shit happened where we grew up, my high school bully died falling through a fault line after a massive earthquake

Gareth: Eddie man he wasn’t a high school bully he literally tried to hunt and kill you

Eddie: So did half the town he’s not special

The interviewer: 🧍

——————————————————————————

*In the middle of a Corroded Coffin performance*

Eddie: Hey everybody! Hope you’re having an awesome time, just wanted to shout out my most metal fan Congresswoman Applejack!

Erica *shouting from the crowd*: I’m not a fan, nerd, you begged me to come here!

——————————————————————————

*Eddie on Twitter*

@EddieMunstrosity ✓

Hey @Michael_Byers remember when you made up having a girlfriend all of your freshman year? Hah lameo

@Michael_Byers ✓

Eddie you know El, she literally saved you from being eaten alive by bats

@Jane.Hopper.Byers

Accusations

@Michael_Byers ✓

Oh come on El we dated

@Jane.Hopper.Byers

False accusations

@EddieMunstrosity ✓

💀💀💀💀

@C0roded-C0ffin-Stan

She saved you from WHAT

——————————————————————————

*On a livestream*

Eddie: What’s up my little sheep, I’m just cooking dinner

Steve *offscreen*: Nope

Eddie: I’m just doing some prep

Steve *offscreen*: Try again

Eddie: I’m just patiently waiting for dinner

Steve *offscreen*: Not quite

Eddie: I’m just getting in the way of my lovely husband who’s cooking dinner?

Steve *walking into frame*: Ding ding ding now say goodbye to the people and get off the counter

Eddie *waving at the camera*: Goodbye to the people and get off the counter

——————————————————————————

*Twitter again*

@Trashytabloid

Lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin, Eddie Munson, and famous New York Times photographer, Jonathan Wheeler-Byers spotted having lunch together only 6 days before Valentines Day. Could there be an affair in our midsts? To find out read: https://thisisfake.com

@Steve_M

Wow Jon you steal my first love AND the loml? Shammmme

@Jonathan.Wheeler ✓

What can I say I’m irresistible

@EddieMunstrosity ✓

@Steve_M baby I’m so sorry I couldn’t resist his charms

@Nancy.Wheeler ✓

Felt 😔

@Steve_M

NANCE 😭

@Buckman_And_Robin

NANCE 😂

——————————————————————————

*Corroded Coffin on The Tonight Show*

Jimmy Fallon: So Jeff, I hear that you write a majority of the band’s songs, do you feel that that’s appreciated in the group

Jeff: Oh, thank you for asking Jimmy, I absolutely do not think that’s appreciated, no

Jimmy *laughing*: What?!

Grant, Eddie, & Gareth: WOAH woah woah What?? What do you mean?? Hey cmon man!

Jeff: Ed broke into my place at 4 in the morning a couple days ago telling me to write a song about “how it feels to be a lizard”. What does that even mean???

Eddie: You just don’t get the vision

Jeff: THEN WRITE IT YOURSELF WEIRDO- see what I’m talking about here Jimmy?

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just-dino-maggie · 1 year

Note

trevor zegras 61 pls

Thank you for the request!! I hope you enjoy this little imagine!

61. “I thought you knew.”

Trevor Zegras and I have never been friends. We are civil, professional. It’s how it should be. I’m the on the social media team for the Anaheim ducks, I see the guys almost every day. I’ve made good friendships with most of them but Trevor and I never quite meshed.

I was upset about it at first. I thought he was cute and funny, especially around the other guys but around me he shuts down. He so uninterested in me and it’s frustrating. I decided after a little while not to let it get the better of me. I still makes sure I get his good side for all the pictures. I cant leave my girls out to dry. I may not get along with him but it’s easy to see the appeal.

It’s the Ducks media day today which is one of my favorite days of the year. I get to do what I do best. I take some fun behind the scenes videos, I help direct our photographers, and I get to hang out with the guys who have been away all summer.

I check my itinerary and the first person I have to do one on ones with is Trevor. I feel a little nervous but I know Trevor will preform well in front of the cameras.

I get the lighting and the cameras set up early. I make sure there is a comfortable chair for the guys to sit in. Cam Fowler joked about a metal chair being too harsh on his “old man back”. Once all of that is done I read over my questions to make sure I have them on lock.

I wait patiently for Trevor’s call time. He is usually on time but every once in a while he’s late. I try not to worry about it. I fiddle with the sleeves of my sweater and anticipate his arrival.

When I hear the door open I stand, Trevor walks through the door nonchalantly. “Hey Trevor,” I say putting on a bright smile. “You know the drill, do you mind putting this on?” I hand him one of the reverse retros.

He takes off his sweater and I try not to notice the way his undershirt lifts up as he does it. Unfortunately my brain has chosen to take that information and not let it go. “When you’re ready you can sit right here and we can get started.”

We start filming and he’s amazing as usual. He might be my favorite to film. The other guys are awesome behind the scenes but the only time I get to see Trevor be himself is on camera. He let’s loose in some ways because people have come to expect his vibrant personality.

“Trevor that was great! I think we’re all set!” He doesn’t answer me. He just starts grabbing his things and getting ready to head to his next call time. I don’t know why it bugged me so much. His silence just felt dismissive and it hurt. “You are aware that you can be nice to me right? I get that you don’t like me very much but you can at least pretend.”

“I’m not trying to be rude, I just don’t know what to say.” He turns to look at me, “I don’t dislike you.”

I roll my eyes, “Right you don’t dislike me you’re just put off by my presence.”

“I thought you knew.” He says, confusion written on his face.

I throw my hands up in defeat, “You thought I knew what Trevor?”

“About the rule with the interns.” He sighs, “In Highschool I was an idiot and I screwed around with an intern at USA hockey. She ended up being related to a coach and things got complicated. I told myself I would never try anything with an intern ever again. So because I’m attracted to you I stayed away from you.”

I pause for a second trying to register his words in my brain. He has a rule about interns? He’s attached to me? Oh my gosh Trevor Zegras is attracted to me. “I’m not an intern.” I say then I mentally slap myself right after.

He smirks, “You’re right, you aren’t an intern and you definitely aren’t coaches’ niece. Maybe I should stop treating you like you are.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Maybe we could be friends?”

He smiles, “Yeah something like that… I’ll see you after the shoot?”

I nod then I wave him out the door. I can feel the blush on my cheeks and the smile on my face. I don’t even care because Trevor might really like me after all.

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #nhl imagine #anaheim ducks #cam fowler #jack hughes #usa hockey #usntdp

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clockworkbee · 2 days

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Why are you so excited for the Seelie Queen? She’s so sleezy to read about that I think I dislike her more than Seb since so much demon blood is his excuse but she doesn’t have an excuse she just.. chose to be bad. And she was shitty to Clary all of Tmi but had sex with her brother behind everyone’s backs while hoping they’d all die in Edom... But I know we got some villain lovers over here so not shaming here! Just curious about the intrigue. I even hate Ash being around her..Yet we’ll probably read about them having sex or planning to have ash as a “weapon” to build up the Ash TWP lore I guess?

Hello, (sorry about my late response, you've probably even forgotten you asked). Thanks for clarifying what you're actually asking, tho! I'll start this by showing the answer in your ask itself (this could be long, idk):

The Seelie Queen is so sleezy to read about. She doesn't have an excuse she just.. chose to be bad. Had sex with our protagonist's brother behind everyone's backs while hoping they'd all die in Edom.

She is by no means among any list of my favorite characters, but her character does interest me immensely. She's one patient, word-twisting, magic bitch, and also the first cool faerie villain character I'd ever read about. Her trickster nature and word games really fascinated me, and I have always been curious about her story. I've wanted to see her perspective (which we could be getting or not), and I've wanted to see her as the main villain (not a side one) ever since TMI.

Now, about why I'm so excited about a story that's supposed to be about her and Sebastian, and I admit, I didn't think about what this story could be (I just didn't have time to wonder 😭) so I never got as far as "reading about them... planning to have Ash as a weapon to build up the Ash TWP lore..." That could be it, tho; a story of them making horrible plans for their wonderful, powerful future in their most desired, terrible world with a baby to make sure of everything and strengthen their united rule! Awesome!

But coming back to your question, I've been curious about how Sebastian even formed that alliance with the Seelie Queen (and no matter the flattery, I never believed either was in love with the other) and what really was it that she saw herself benefiting off of that she supported him. Was it that she could see the potential in his plans of bringing down a part-human race that shouldn't have any power to control her people yet does? Or was it just about an heir symbolizing a strong and scary rule while also getting back at the Unseelie King? Did she plan on betraying Sebastian after she got what she wanted? Or was it all that and more that I'm unable to think of?

These are just some things I've thought of since reading TDA and barely seeing the Seelie Queen make an appearance in other books or stories (TID, TLH, TFTSA, GOTSM, TBC) so the moment I read her name with Sebastian among the ten stories, I was like "finally! Some tea! Something to look forward to that might hold some of the answers I've been waiting for" (or leave me with more questions, lol). So yeah 😅

Thanks for this ask, btw 💗

#tsc asks #bee's answered #seelie queen #sebastian morgenstern #ash morgenstern #better in black #seasons of shadowhunters #the mortal instruments #the dark artifices #the infernal devices #the last hours #tales from the shadowhunter academy #the bane chronicles #the eldest curses #ghosts of the shadow market #the wicked powers #cassandra clare

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twigg96 · 10 months

Note

Hi, can I please get headcanons on how each band member handles their wedding day and how they react to their bride walking down the aisle? Also, headcanons for what their wedding song would be?

Hello my sweet anon! You absolutely can have some wedding day HCs!!! I hope you like them!

Nathan- is a complete mess of a man on his wedding day. His shirt is not pressed. He’s worried the lapel on his suit is the wrong shade of cyan. He’s death gripping the chair’s arms as his hair stylist does his hair so he doesn’t pick at the polish Skwisgaar has reapplied for the 12th time that day. He’s paced a nice little track in the carpet of the hotel room he’s staying in for their destination wedding. When he’s finally usher to the front of the alter. The space neatly decorated by his partner and their bridesmaids. He’s supremely impressed considering they set out to decorate while heavily drunk during the bridal shower last night. The anxious thought crosses his mind that maybe. His partner would be too drunk or rather too hung over to show up to the wedding. But Pickles, his best man squeezed his shoulder reminding him to stay in the moment. With the start of Canon in D Nathan stared at the end of the aisle watching as his partner's bride's maids came walking down one by one before their maid of honor walked proudly standing in her placed opposite Pickles. She smiled and winked at Nathan giving him a quick thumbs up as the little flower girl and ring bearer stumbled their way up the aisle to the oohs and awes of the crowd. The little flower girl completely forgetting to toss the petals in her basket until she reached Nathan's calf. Suddenly the little girl tossed the basket to the ground and clung to his suit pants hiding away from the prying eyes of the crowd. Nathan couldn't help but chuckle at the little girl's antics. But as his partner stepped into view, their beautiful white gown swirling around their feet as they stood at the end of the aisle looking through their veil at him... Nathan thought his heart had stopped and he had died. And maybe for a second he did... But as the wedding march began to play Nathan was dragged back to reality. Nathan wanted to cry and run to his partner and keep them all to himself all at the same time. But he knew they would absolutely kill him if he did that so he did his best to be patient... and thank god he did. The wedding went off without a hitch despite his initial fears. He got mother fucking married to the person of his dreams! He couldn't be more happy! The reception was a fucking blast! The party of all parties. He ate his favorite foods drank his favorite liquor and had his picture taken more than a thousand times. For their first dance Nathan chooses "Love You To Death" By Type O Negative. He finds the song enchanting in a way he can't find words to describe. He also loves how brutally awesome the song is and loves the band as a whole.

Pickles - As much as he loved being the center of attention... he really hated the idea of traditional weddings and ceremonies. To him a wedding was just the government's way of controlling two people's relationship... but his partner really wanted one so here he was in a monkey suit and a tie standing in the back room... might have actually been a broom closet if he really looked close enough... of the local church. His partner was getting ready with the help of literally all of their friends on the other side of the door. He could hear them all giggling out there. He wasn't allowed to see his bride before the wedding. Stupid superstitions... it wasn't like he and his partner weren't fucking regularly before then anyway. But whatever made his partner happiest this was their day after all... well their day but Pickles loved and respected his partner enough to let them have control of most everything for the ceremony as long as he could get an open bar at the reception. Pickles sighed looking to the watch on his wrist. Another 5 minutes and he got to come out to piss before the ceremony. Leaning up against the wall he sighed letting the reality of his situation wash over him. Holy fucking shit... he was getting married to the love of his life. Then suddenly he remembered... they invited Seth and his family to the wedding. His eyes popped open the the dank musty closet he was in as he cursed under his breath. He remembered begging his partner not to send his families invites but they insisted on sending at least Seth's since the two of them seemed to be getting along better now. They weren't entirely wrong... He and Seth had managed better now that Seth had a kid of his own. But still, he wasn't excited for family time after the ceremony. Five minutes passes faster than he realized as Nathan opened the door with a shit eating grin letting him rush to the bathroom before ushering him to the front of the little church to stand like a Ken doll to be ogled at. There were less people than he expected there would be but then again when he insisted small wedding his partner must have taken it to heart. On the right were his partner's loved ones, their friends, and their bride's maids. To his left sat Seth, Amber, and Little Man, Nathan, Murderface, Toki, and Skwisgaar. Officiating was Charles standing right by his side the biggest and proudest smile on his face Pickles had ever seen. Pickles couldn't help the sob that ripped through him when everything started. It was all so real and happening so fast. His bride stood at the back of the church looking like an angel and here he was blubbering like an Wisconsin Moron. He couldn't help himself. Rushing to their side he held out his arm to escort them down the aisle. "Love the color on ya, Sticks." He whispered winking as the two walked hand in hand together up the aisle. The wedding was amazing, better than Pickles ever could imagine. The ceremony was fast and to the point, perfect for his ADHD brain to comprehend. Something he suspected Charles had planned for. The reception was a blast. The best live music played intermittently with the DJ that played inside a sectioned off +18 area where various drugs and alcohol were being served. Dinner was Irish Stew. Pickles favorite and a staple from his childhood when his grandma made it (a recipe from the old country). His choice in wedding song is Pantera’s Cemetery Gates. Not exactly what everyone is expecting when they think of a love song but hey! He and his partner look happy as they dance alone in the center of the firehouse.

Murderface - this boy has sweat through two dress shirts while waiting for official to arrive. The wedding hasn’t even started and his groomsmen are frantically rushing all over the room trying to find cool towels, mint tea, and an extra anxiety medicine to calm the bassist. His soon to be wife had slept in the same hotel room as him as his separation anxiety was too much for him to go a night without them for too long. They were going with an “uncouth” color pallet. Black and red. His partner’s dress was a pitch black and their flower choice was red roses dyed with black ink dripped on the petals. One of which was delicately pinned to his lapel, a difficult feat for his best man Pickles who pricked himself more than once trying to keep up with him. As the music played indicating that it was time William stepped through the door and was immediately floored. His partner stood at the head of the alter already ready. They had practiced this. The reversal of roles. William would walk up the aisle and his blushing bride would stand with their veil pulled waiting on him. But still he was blown away at the sight all the same. His heart beating a thousand miles an hour. He felt shaky and sick in a good way. His wife looked devilishly stunning. The wedding was beautiful and amazing. He would have married his partner a thousand times over had the chance. The reception was held in the basement of Murderface and his partner’s favorite bar. It was where they first met. The bar was popping all night serving drinks to loud crowd. At the center of it all the pair danced to Killswitch Engage- The End of Heartache.

Toki- the Norwegian has been dreaming of this day his whole life. Well… adult life. He loved his partner more than anything in the whole universe. So when his partner said they wanted to have a traditional wedding Old Norse Wedding like he did was just icing on the cake. They got married on Frigga’s day (Friday) and got Frigg’s and Odin’s blessings the morning of the marriage before going their separate ways to get ready. His bride went with her bridesmaids to the local bathhouse and sauna to preform the Maiden Ritual in which they washed away her maiden hood. Instead of a veil she wore a flower crown made from the children in her family. Toki undergoes the sword ceremony. Attended by his married family members he would steal a sword from one of his dead family members graves to take with him to the ceremony. The sword was placed there by one of Toki’s loved ones and symbolizes his death as a boy and rebirth as a married man. Once the women are finished at the bathhouse Toki would travel by foot to the bathhouse and bathe in the same water to cleanse himself of his bachelor status. Both the bride and Toki would dawn their ceremonial paint symbolizing protection and the blessings of the gods. At the ceremony along with flowers they each would bear swords. Toki and his love would exchange swords as a sign that he and his partner’s family was now one. Afterwards there would be a giant feast with all the food and booze anyone could ever imagine. Despite there not needing a wedding song Toki insisted they dance. He chose Fall into Me - by Peyton Perrish. Even if it’s not traditional Norse he wanted something with a little metal to tie in the old with the new in his life.

Skwisgaar- He is hesitant to get married at first. After all the bumps he and his partner has shared in their relationship he wasn’t quite sure if they were ever going to be ready… hell he didn’t know if HE was ever going to be ready. It after a long debate he decided he couldn’t live without his partner and made the commitment. However as he stood at the alter he debated on bolting. His feet were ice cold in their white suede shoes. His white suite was pristine but he felt like he was naked in front of the extra large crowd he insisted on inviting. “If we ams getting married we ams getting married in style!” He fidgeted with the flowers on the stand then on his lapel all while his best man tried to calm him finally asking “do you want to marry them at all?” He didn’t know how to answer that. He did. But he was… scared. As the songs started he had to take a breath and stepped out to the gasping of the audience. Fifteen minutes passed and most of his stomach contents now laid at the bottom of the church’s trash can that sat outside. He never got stage fright damn it he gave it! Standing up he strode back in on wobbly legs. His partner’s bridesmaids stood in position watching him with venom in their eyes as he took his place. “Ready…” he muttered popping a mint into his mouth. As his partner’s maid of honor ran down the aisle glaring all the way he knew. He fucked up. Seconds later his bride stood in the aisle makeup smeared from crying but smile big as ever on their face. “Where did you go?” They asked once they reached his side sniffling as if they didn’t just have a breakdown in the back room. Skwisgaar sighed feeling small. “Just got blinded by the starlight baby.” The rest of the wedding went off without a hitch despite the photos taken with the bridesmaids glaring at Skwisgaar like he committed the worse sin. The reception was held outside in a beautiful vista next to a winery. Skwisgaar hosted wine tasting. The song he chose for the first dance is Cradle of Filth - Nymphetamine a black metal power ballad that he loves for the sick riffs and sings to his heart.

#thank you anon #thank you for the ask!#metalocalypse #wedding hc #imagine metalocalypse #metalocalypse headcanons #dethklok #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion #william murderface

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verkomy · 11 months

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i love your art style! any tips for beginner artists?

thank you so much!! here're a few that popped into my head:

always use references! if you don't know how to draw something - look it up on the internet or (even better!) take a picture of yourself and draw it. drawing things from photos and nature will help you improve much faster than trying to draw everything from imagination and memory. ps. try not to use references drawn by someone else in the beginning because then you'll most definitely duplicate someone else's possible mistakes and we don't want that.

don't focus too much on finding your own art style. learn the rules first so you can break them later and apply them to your drawings. I can't count how many times I was angry that each of my drawings looked different until I realized that this is also a part of the whole "finding my own art style" process, so look for interesting styles and be inspired by artists you like.

and I don't know if this is a tip but I feel like I need to say this - it's okay to be inspired by someone else's art style. my art for a very long time was inspired by burdgebug (raise your hand if she was your art style goddess too) and many times I even copied her drawings too, and that is fine HOWEVER I never posted them anywhere and signed them as my own. and my point is - study art styles that you want your own style to be based on but never copy or trace someone else's drawings and post them as your own. AND if you draw something inspired by your favorite artist - tag them! I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see that their work has inspired someone. :)

digital art and tablets are great but don't forget about sketchbooks! using different types of media, from pencils to paints, give you freedom that no screen can. and if you're posting your art on social media - don't feel pressure to post every sketch online, not everything you draw has to be content.

also not everything you draw has to be perfect, let yourself experiment and learn from it!

if you're drawing digitally remember to flip your canvas! and if you're drawing traditionally you can look at your drawing in the mirror or take photo of it and flip it in the photo editing app.

don't shade with black! it will make your drawing look mudy.

I really like to draw studies from my favorite movies or tv shows because they allow me to learn how the light and shadow work in different setups so I recommend you doing that too!

I know it sounds scary but try to draw full bodies and backgrounds too and not only portraits (but they're so fun to draw right?!) so you'll improve all of these three things at the same rate. I was teriffied of drawing feet for a very long time and look where I am now - still can't draw them, why do people even need feet...

and what is most important - have fun! draw what you want, experiment, use defferent medias and art styles and find what suits you best. it's a very long road, a lifelong even, so don't be upset at first if something doesn't look the way you wanted it to (it hardly ever does even if you're on the higher level in being an artist). someday you'll be able to draw something that you've imagined for years and it's the greatest feeling in the whole world! just be patient and try to enjoy the road you're on instead of looking at the final destination.

bonus tip or more of a uplift for begginer artist that post their drawings on social media: YOU ARE AWESOME AND YOU DESERVE EVERY RECOGNISION, try not to pay attention to engagement and numbers on your posts because they can ruin your motivation like nobody's business, and remember that you are what you create and not how your art performs on the internet. <3

that's a long ass post, but I hope it's somehow helpful! I could make a post with useful resources (mostly for digital art) so let me know if you'd be interesed in that~!

#asks #art tips #text

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fxtalitygod · 2 years

Text

V. ~Survival~

Summary: You were determined to survive, longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, themes/depictions of horror, swearing/language, suggestive, mentions of child murder/adult murder, breastfeeding, pet names (Y/n called Little Flower 2-3x), Implications of child neglect, implied Stockholm Syndrome, images/depictions of dead bodies, slight misogynistic themes (if you squint).

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: I apologize for being so late with this post, a lot is going on right now and I have had a few other writing projects that I have been working on for you guys, but I was finally able to sit down and finish this chapter. Thank you all for being patient with me, it is greatly appreciated. As a friendly reminder, my asks are open if you want to ask me any questions about this story/other works or to talk about hcs, maybe even suggestions, or to be added to the taglist for any of my series, have at it! I'm going to update my navigation soon so that it has a link that can take you to the post where I have my taglist rules. I hope that due to it being summer I will be able to post more consistently, hopefully, every Sunday if possible. For now, my upload schedule will be a bit inconsistent until I figure out some kinks. Thank you for sticking around and enjoy Part 5 of Survival!

Fun Fact: I stayed up to watch the Lunar Eclipse while writing part of this chapter, it was quite awesome!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules•

• Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt.III • Pt.IV • Pt. V • Pt.VI

For the first time in a long time, you felt normal. Those few hours you spent with your two little infants were the best moments out of the time you had spent at the temple. It was quiet, with no one there to disrupt your peace, not even Sukuna himself, it was just you and your children.

Yes, your attendant would walk in every once in a while, most likely on Sukuna’s orders, but she always made her visits quiet and short. She would leave you food and water to make sure you were well-nourished — you appreciated that because you knew if she hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten to eat or drink anything, too lost in admiring your children.

Sadly, it wouldn’t be this way forever, as soon as your twins were old enough to not need the nourishment from your breasts, you would go back to the normal routine around the temple; however, there would be small exceptions to watching and raising your children. Despite knowing these future events, you would enjoy the time you had with your babies.

Taking a deep breath, a long sigh following, you enjoyed the tranquility of the room. You wished this setting would last forever, but knew that it wouldn’t; however, you didn’t expect it to be disrupted this soon as an unexpected visitor made themself present.

“Had a good rest, Little Flower?”

As much as you hated that familiar teasing tone, you paid no mind to it as you didn’t want the presence of Sukuna to damper your mood. You gave a simple response, not bothering to make eye contact as you were too enamored with your twins to give him any attention.

“Not feeling very talkative today are we, Little Flower? It’s almost as if you are distracted by something or rather someone?”

Feeling a shift in bedding, you could tell that Sukuna was now leaning beside you, staring you down as you paid him no mind. You knew that this was a risky move of yours, but you would be damned if you were to miss a second of time with your children due to the likes of the twisted, two-faced man beside you.

It stayed silent for a couple minutes.

At first, you thought Sukuna had gotten the hint and would decide to leave you alone, but you should have known better. The man took your chin between his fingers, forcing you to face him; however, he was still gentle in this action, making sure to not harm you as he forced you to make eye contact.

“I apologize, I do not know what to say with such an unexpected visit,” you responded after a couple seconds of staring into his eyes.

Sukuna was only able to smirk before letting go of your face, allowing you to bring your focus back onto the infants that were curled up against your chest, trying to achieve warmth from your body.

“That seems like a valid answer, for now,” Sukuna started, pausing to examine the twins before turning his attention back to you, “Answer me this, did you know a young maiden in your village who was a seamstress? She was a couple years younger than you and I believe she would’ve been a neighbor and a close family friend of yours.”

You were a little confused by his question, but took some time to think about his description. You ransacked your mind trying to match someone to the details he had given you about this person until it finally hit you.

Your mind went back to your “wedding day” and the girl that was helping you into your ceremonial robes. You remembered that girl well, she was sixteen at the time and was practically glued to your side whenever you made your presence known around her. The same naive girl who believed a marriage with Sukuna was more of an achievement rather than a punishment.

“I do recall her, why?” you simply asked.

“She wouldn’t stop talking about you, at least for the first few minutes after the ceremony; however she had no trouble pushing the thought of you aside after I told her you were due to go into labor soon, she actually went silent for a few minutes before she started to blabber on how she would be a great wife.”

You were confused, what was he trying to prove with this story? You pondered on it, trying to think up an answer, but nothing was coming up. Why was Sukuna bringing this up now? Was he trying to stir a reaction out of you per usual? Was he trying to threaten you?

Questions kept flooding your mind until an answer finally hit you.

“It was a shame I had to kill her, she made a pretty convincing commitment about being a good wife, but her jealousy felt more of a threat towards our future heirs and if I were being honest she was getting on my nerves.”

He killed her.

The night when you went into labor, that piercing scream you heard was her. The blood that tainted Sukuna’s robes that night was her’s. You felt so on edge that night because she, the girl who practically saw you as her older sister had been murdered on her wedding night, and a part of you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault.

Before you had the chance to snap at Sukuna for what he had done, a tanto blade appeared in front of your face.

“I noticed her slip this into her hand the moment I told her you were pregnant.”

You were quick to flick the blade away as to keep it away from your twins, worried the blade would cut them, but that wasn’t the only reason you were quick to dispose of it. A part of you didn’t want to believe that the girl you had grown up with wanted to harm you out of jealousy; moreover, you didn’t want to believe that the girl had been completely blindsided by the rumors going around the village, so much so that she lost all rationality.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“To warn you,” Sukuna quickly responded, “from this point on, you will be looked down upon in your village, maybe even your own family. From here on out everyone is out to kill you and our children…”

You looked down at your children as they began to cry, grabbing at you as they began to squirm. You tried to calm them down, but nothing was working. You attempted to adjust yourself, but something caught your eye.

There was blood on your hand.

You checked for any open wounds on your body, even inspecting your hand twice to make sure you hadn’t cut yourself with the tanto blade from earlier, but nothing; however, when you turned to examine your children, you noticed cuts and small slices littering their bodies. Out of panic, you looked over to where the blade should have landed but found nothing. You turned to look at Sukuna to see if he had grabbed it only to discover that he wasn’t there.

She was standing in his place, blade held above her head, ready to strike it down onto you and your children. Your eyes were wide in fear. You wanted to say anything but no words came out of your mouth when you went to speak some sense into her. You could only stare into her crazed eyes with fear, even when a hand made its way onto your shoulder a figure leaning in to whisper into your ear.

“Everyone is out to take what is ours Y/n.”

You gasped as you opened your eyes, sitting up immediately as you breathed heavily, trying to recover from your nightmare; however, it didn’t take long to check on your infants. You were so shaken up you examined them more times than you could count, making sure they were unscratched.

“Y/n-sama, are you alright?” your attendant asked, clearly concerned about your current state of shock.

It took you a few seconds to calm down before responding to her, giving her a simple yes so as to not give her any reason to call for someone. Now some may believe it would’ve been best for you to confide in her, but a part of you worried your children would be taken away from you.

Your attendant looked a little hesitant, clearly wanting to ask you more to make sure you were alright, but she could tell that you weren’t necessarily in the mood to talk as you had already gone in for another round of inspecting your children. She was only able to observe from afar, afraid that if she were to overstep her boundaries she would spark an adverse reaction. She decided to wait for the right time to approach you, and not necessarily question you but to at least be able to talk with you without causing you any sort of distress.

It took you a few minutes to settle down, finally feeling comfortable enough to relax, leaning back to allow a slight breather. Your attendant approached you cautiously, bringing you something to eat and drink since it had been a while since you had done so.

“Is there anything I can do for you Y/n-sama?” she asked carefully.

You only shook your head, giving her a soft smile to reassure her everything was alright. The gesture seemed to bring her a little relief as she smiled back, bowing before making her leave.

The second those doors closed, you allowed your mind to run wild. You thought back to your nightmare, still feeling distressed from the whole situation. You had no idea why you had such a horrific nightmare despite being nothing but happy these past few days, spending what quality time you could with your newborns. You were finally starting to feel a bit of normality, so why now?

You tried to convince yourself that the nightmare was another part of the exhaustion post-labor, but you knew it was not that. You tried pushing it out of your mind, you tried to forget it happened and deem it as nothing more than a nightmare, but some part of you wouldn’t allow yourself to provide that sort of relief. It invaded your mind for a solid hour until something clicked in your mind.

“Everyone is out to take what is ours, Y/n.”

Those words echoed in your head. Those words were telling you something, quite literally, about your current predicament. Those words weren’t Sukuna’s, they were yours, and you were giving yourself a warning.

If you were to somehow escape and run back to your village you would be welcomed with open arms, but your children would not, they would be taken from you and slaughtered at the elder’s command as a way to threaten the almighty, Ryomen Sukuna. Even if you tried to convince them, they wouldn’t even listen to you. They would only believe you were simply manipulated by Sukuna, nothing more.

Your children weren’t exactly safe in the temple either. There was competition among the small families in the temple. In order to impress Sukuna and to gain power among the other wives, mothers would raise their children to be the most compatible heir, even if they had to eliminate some of the competition. It is an actual survival of the fittest situation, if you aren’t careful enough and not quick enough to catch on to your possible assassin, you would wake up to find a corpse in the crib. Knowing that some of the wives already resented you, you knew your children would become subject to the one-sided rivalry.

At this point in time, you couldn’t trust anybody because no matter where you took your children there would be a knife at their neck.

Everyone was truly out to take what was yours, so you had to protect it or rather them, no matter what the cost.

You were taken out of your thoughts by the sound of the door, your attendant making her presence known. As soon as the door closed she approached you, a tea set in hand. Before she made it to your side she stopped in her footsteps, staring at something that was seemingly next to you. You turned your head to see what she was looking at only to see the previous meal she had left you earlier today.

“Y/n-sama, are you alright you haven’t touched your food from this morning, should I retrieve the doctor?” She asked, already turning on her heel to approach the door.

“No!”

Shocked and a little scared your attendant froze in her place. She stayed motionless for about a minute, fearing that she would upset you if she dared move.

You cleared your throat before the girl could get suspicious and spoke up once more.

“I apologize for my outburst, let me explain. No, I do not need the assistance of the doctor.”

“B-but Y/n-sama, I think it would be best to-”

“There is no need for the doctor, I’m perfectly fine, I simply was not hungry this morning,” you interrupted.

The girl only nodded hesitantly before making the rest of the way over to place the tea set down. She moved over the previous set before placing the current one down, pouring a cup, and handing it to you. However, she paused once more noticing your hands were full.

“Y/n-sama, I do not mean to intrude, but I believe it would be easier for you to eat if I held the twins for you,” she explained, slightly reaching over to take one of the babies.

Impulsively, you brought the twins closer to your chest, causing your attendant to pull her hands back a little. It could have been paranoia from your nightmare or the realization you had a little while ago, but you did not feel comfortable with giving your little blessings to her; however, you didn’t have much of a choice, unless you wanted to get a surprise visit from the doctor, who would most likely remove the twins from your care for a while to perform a check-up. If your children were to be removed from your care, they wouldn’t be given to your attendant or a wet nurse, but rather one of the wives, and based on your realization from earlier that was definitely not a risk you were willing to take.

Reluctantly, you began to hand over your baby boy first as your attendant reached her arms back out to hold the infant. After a minute of her holding your baby boy, you handed your girl over next. The moment your attendant had both your babies she sat down and began rocking herself back and forth.

A part of you wanted to jump up and take your children back into your arms, but you knew better than to do such an abrupt action. You only stared for a couple minutes before taking a teacup and taking a small sip of the warm beverage.

It did not take you long to finish your meal, quickly setting all the ceramics back onto the tray they were brought with. You did not hesitate to take your newborns back to the warmth of your chest as your attendant handed them back to you. You couldn’t help but smile at the little blessings as they snuggled into you and latched onto your breasts to eat.

As much as you wanted to ponder on your nightmare and your small conspiracy, you thought it best to just enjoy this moment and think about all those worries later. You softly smiled as you gazed at your beautiful twins. You would enjoy these moments of peace with your children before you had to leave the room before you had to deal with the chaos outside those doors.

One hundred, one hundred days went by where it was just you and the twins, and occasionally your attendant who came in to check up on you. You had to admit those one hundred days were the best days of your life, the only thing that could have made it better would have been your family's presence. You would've liked to have stayed in that room a little longer, but you knew that wasn't possible.

You stepped out those doors, properly dressed and slightly unbalanced. All eyes were on you and your twins, and you could not say they were one hundred percent looks of adoration. You have come to learn that during your pregnancy more of the wives had begun to grow more envious of you due to the excessive attention you had started to receive from Sukuna, so much so that he had stopped sleeping with the other wives, this being one of the reasons you would try to keep your distance from them.

"Y/n-sama, you have been requested to make your way over to Sukuna-sama's chambers. Internally sighing, you were only able to nod and advanced to the room with a slight wobble with each step, your attendant being quick to assist you before you could fall over. As you proceeded towards Sukuna's chambers, you couldn’t help but hear the whispers of gossip, no different from the day you arrived. Not all the hushed words were of ill intent, some even admiring you, but most of them held jealousy and threats.

These women were only validating your fears. You have entered the survival game, and you had to play it cautiously. No matter where you turned there would be a blade held to your neck, and not just yours but your children’s as well. Their eyes were on you, tracking your every move, trying to predict your actions so they could plot against you and your twins.

You were the prey and they were the predator.

Before you could grow even more paranoid, you were pulled into Sukuna’s quarters by your attendant. You hadn’t been in this room for one hundred days, and being in it now made you wish you could stay out of it for one hundred more. Unfortunately, that was not possible.

You watched as your attendant gave you a soft smile before making her exit, leaving the door open. You looked around the room, familiarizing yourself with the atmosphere. Nothing much had changed except for the bedding, but you just assumed that was a personal touch from one of the wives due to your absence.

Despite the small change not being that big of a deal, something about it made you feel off. You approached the bed, now noticing there was a lump in it as if someone was sleeping there, but the shape of the lump made it too small to be Sukuna. Before you could pull the sheets back, the door shut close.

“Snooping around once more, aren’t we, Little Flower,” came a sudden voice from behind you.

You jumped back slightly, holding your babies to your chest. You watched as he walked out from behind the door. Had he been there the entire time? Why was he waiting there? Questions flooded your mind as you began to worry for the safety of your children.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to push m-” a hand covered your mouth before you could finish your statement.

“You don’t need to explain yourself; After all, you didn’t do anything wrong, she did.”

Before you could ask him what he was talking about, he pulled the bedding back to reveal a gruesome sight- a mutilated female’s body. You were quick to cover your children from the gory scene.

“Do you recognize it?” Sukuna asked with a slight bite to his tone.

What you thought had just been a nightmare was now a reality. There laid the corpse of the seamstress, the girl that admired you. Her body was disfigured, but the look of horror was still visibly etched on her face.

You could hardly stomach the sight, slightly turning your head so as to not look at the body. The twins had their heads’ buried in your chest, keeping them from viewing the scene before them. Why would he show this to you? Why would he do it now?

“Why?” You asked weakly, trying to keep the bile from climbing up your throat.

“So you do recognize her?”

You only nodded, afraid that if you opened your mouth you would regurgitate what you had eaten earlier.

“I believe that your village elders sent her out to kill you or rather what was growing inside you at the time,” the man paused looking to see your reaction to the news, “As much as I would like to kill those bastards, I have no legitimate proof, so for now they remain untouched.”

“Unless you want to do something about it.”

Your exterior seemed rather calm, but on the inside, you were fuming. Those old cowards had sent you out here to conceive children, and now they were sending people out to kill them; moreover, they had sent someone they knew was close to you to do the deed.

You couldn’t tell if it was your new motherly instincts that were making you think this way, but you wanted them to hurt like you had hurt. To see them burn and scream at your mercy would have been a delightful sight to see. At this point, Sukuna’s offer had become very tempting, but you didn’t want to stoop down to their level, to his level even.

“No,” you simply said, now looking at the body with little to no emotion, too infuriated with the recent news.

You could only hear a slight chuckle from Sukuna before he covered the body, a few staff members making their way in, taking the corpse.

Although you weren’t dismissed, you could tell Sukuna had said what he needed to say, so you turned on your heel to make your exit. Before you could walk out the door you felt a hand on your waist, effectively stopping you. You only stood there, not bothering to move another inch. You were too infuriated to be scared.

He didn’t say anything, he just held you in place as he walked up from behind. You felt his breath on the back of your neck as he leaned over your shoulder, bringing his hand around to place his palm on your daughter’s cheek, tilting her head up slightly so he could get a better look at her. It did not take him long to do the same to your son, only spending a few seconds longer to admire the infant.

You thought he was done when he pulled back, but he surprised you once more when he pulled your hair away from your neck. A poke at your head alerted you that Sukuna had placed something in your hair. Hands were placed upon your waist not too long after, turning once you around so the four-armed man could get a look at you.

There was some sort of intensity in Sukuna’s eyes. At the beginning you couldn’t understand why, but when you looked into the reflection in his eyes you got your answer. There was an object sticking out of your hair and you had a feeling you knew exactly what it was.

The kanzashi pin.

“It suits you,” Sukuna blurted out, a strange look on his face, a look you couldn’t decipher.

“Use it well, Little Flower, you will need it,” The man stated before grabbing your jaw and kissing you, allowing you to leave after.

The kiss was abnormally softer than normal, it still was still violating in a way, but it didn’t feel as uncomfortable. Sukuna’s strange behavior was throwing you off balance. There could’ve been many factors that were affecting his behavior whether it be the silent battle he was having with the elders, the recent birth of the twins, or the fact that he was touch starved.

You pushed the thoughts out of your mind as you left the room and made your way to the garden, wanting to familiarize your children with the area and atmosphere as they would spend most of their childhood there. The garden was where most mothers stayed with their children during their infancy to watch over them. Although it was a place for infants, there were still a lot of mothers who brought their older kids there, sometimes to do chores or to give their children a place to train.

The moment you entered the garden, all eyes were on you or rather the kanzashi pin that was placed in your hair. You could see some of the scowls and harsh glares, and you should’ve been scared, but you weren’t. Some might’ve thought that the kanzashi pin made you a bigger target, but you didn’t see it that way. The pin would show that you were now the top dog and that if anyone tried to lay a hand on you, they would suffer the repercussions.

You walked through that garden, your head held high and your back straight. It didn’t take you long to settle into an empty spot in the feild, a few of your acquaintances joining you as they cooed at the sight of your twins.

You were making a risky move in this game of survival by being so bold, but you believed that if you pulled this card at any other time, you would already be dead. You weren’t in this game to play it safe, you were here to win, and if that meant you would have to play cautiously or to make some questionable decisions, you would. If you weren’t winning for yourself, you were winning for your babies.

You were going to win for your family because you made a promise, an everlasting oath — you weren’t going to break it anytime soon.

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #sukuna fanfic #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #child murder #tw suggestive #tw stockholm syndrome #tw dead body #tw murder

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awkwardtickleetoo · 10 months

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Lee!George Week Day 7 - Free Day!

AHHHHH DAY 7 IS FINALLY HERE <33333

firstly I just wanna say thank you to everyone for being patient with me and letting me take my sweet ass time with the second half of these prompts <3 I am so grateful that you're all still interested even when I take a month to do a week's worth of fics lmao

secondly I wanna give a huge huge HUGE shoutout to @mushiewrites for putting together this fantastic event!! and just for being so awesome and cool and supportive in this community as a whole. thank you for letting me post these 3 weeks late babes <333

this is the last part of lee!george week!! you can find the prompts here, and if you want to participate make sure to use the tag "mushie's lee!george week" when you post <3

this is based on this concept post that I made (with help from mush) a little bit ago, if you would like some further background on this fic and see what it's all about lmao

lee!george, ler!karl, 3.8k words

enjoy!

"What is that?" George asked, furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head to the side as he pointed to a huge, oddly-shaped chair in the corner of the living room next to the couch. Karl walked into the room behind him, their shoulders brushing as George looked over at him, waiting for his explanation.

"Oh! It's a massage chair," Karl explained, leaning back and forth so their shoulders would continue brushing repeatedly.

"A massage chair…" George repeated, not even thinking about it.

"Mhm! I was having trouble with my back for a while so I saw a chiropractor, and she gave me a couple different options of things to do, and one of them was looking into getting a massage chair if I had the means to do so. And now I have one!" Karl explained enthusiastically.

"Huh… that's pretty epic," George responded simply, making Karl laugh again.

"Do you wanna try it?"

"Uh…" George scrunched up his nose and paused apprehensively. "I'm not sure, I don't really like massages that much."

"Yeah, but it's a little different. It's not someone digging their knuckles into your spine, it's like… it vibrates and shit."

"I'm not a big fan of when stuff 'vibrates and shit' either," George said, putting air quotes around the words he took from Karl. He giggled as Karl rolled his eyes at him, looking at him judgingly.

"Just sit in the stupid chair, you meathead," Karl teased, and George giggled again and walked over to the chair, turning around in front of it and leaning slightly to sit before pausing.

"Hm…" He hummed in confusion, not entirely sure where or how to sit the most effectively.

"Here, sit on the edge here and scoot into the middle, you'll, like, slide down it." George did exactly that, tensing his arms to his sides and sitting down on the edge slowly, clearly a bit hesitant but still curious to see how it worked. He stayed leaning forward, until Karl put a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him to lean back against the chair. "Yeah, good, then you put your calves in between these things," Karl explained, leaning down and tapping the leg dividers with his fingers. "And then you stick your feet in those things."

"You want me to stick my feet in the holes on this contraption?" George asked, in slight disbelief of what was being asked of him. "It's gonna, like, chop my feet off or something!"

"It's not gonna chop anything, you nutjob, you'll be fine. It's just part of the massage," Karl explained, slipping the remote out of the pouch on the side of the armrest. George groaned and rolled his eyes, resting his feet on top of the foot rest next to the holes and curling his toes nervously.

"This feels weird, Karl," He mumbled. Karl didn't look up at him, too busy fussing with different buttons on the remote.

"You'll be fine, you're just being a baby. Just put them in and relax." George groaned again, more dramatically this time, and stuck his feet in the holes like he was told. "Okay, good, now chill out. Do you wanna recline?"

"Of course, idiot. You gotta go horizontal," George said, making a horizontal line in the air with his hands as he nestled into the surprisingly comfortable chair behind him. Karl giggled and nodded, pressing some buttons and starting George's recline. He ended up decently far back, laying at about a 45 degree angle, and he let his head rest back against the pillow when he noticed the new position strained his neck when he tried to keep looking forward. "That's perfect."

"Awesome. What setting do you want? There's the one that just vibrates and one that also, like… there's moving parts in the back of the chair that physically massage into your back, but that kinda hurts the first time you use it so we can save that for after, if you end up wanting it."

"Gotcha." George rolled his shoulders as Karl continued.

"Do you want the low vibration or the high setting?"

"High setting, obviously. If we're going in, let's go all in."

"Good answer!" Karl giggled. "Alright, I'm starting it."

"Okay…" George straightened his back against the chair and waited a few seconds for it to kick on.

He was very, very unpleasantly surprised when it did.

"Ah!" He yelped, feeling the heavy vibrations immediately send a shock up his spine, making him arch away from the back of the chair and push forward again. "God, that scared me."

"Yeah, it's very sudden. C'mon, lean back," Karl coached, motioning for him to return to his laying position. He did so, leaning back and pressing against the chair again, flinching again when his back felt the vibrations, but somehow being able to stay against it this time. He tried to even out his breathing, but for some reason that he couldn't quite place yet, it felt heavy and labored, like his chest was tight. After a few seconds passed, he started to realize what was actually happening.

The vibrations were heavy, rattling his body continuously and mercilessly, settling against every area of his body– the back of his neck, his shoulder blades, down his spine, the backs of his ribs and sides, even down to the dimples on his lower back. The seat was vibrating against his thighs where he sat firmly against it, and there were other cushions on either side of him, sitting directly against his waist and vibrating over his sides, the lower section of his ribs, and right above his hip bones. Even the leg rests moved as well, catching his knees and calves in the process. And to make matters even more unbearable, his feet were stuck inside what felt like two tiny sealed boxes, the sides pressing in against his ankles to keep him still and several rollers spinning and vibrating against his defenseless soles. The hard vibrations were covering his entire body, every spot he could possibly focus on to distract himself being affected worse than the last.

And it tickled.

It really, really, really fucking tickled.

Once he had that realization, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. Every spot he could rattle off in his mind was buzzing, literally. He scrunched his toes, tensed his knees, tried to bring his thighs together or pull them away from the seat, but nothing worked. He shifted his hips, pinned his arms to his sides, bit his lip, tried to slow his breathing, but still, nothing. He was in absolute ticklish agony, and the worst part was that Karl hadn't seemed to notice yet, so he had no good excuse to remove himself from the situation without blowing his own cover.

"How's that feel?" Karl asked, smiling expectantly as he slid the remote back into the pouch. "Feels good, right? Really good if your back is tense."

"Yeah!" He agreed, his voice coming out significantly higher pitched than he intended. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Ye-yeah, it's, um, it– it's really good, Karl." His voice wavered as he spoke, but Karl seemed to chalk it up to the vibrations against his back shaking him.

"Dude, I love it. I've fully slept in this thing before. Not on high, obviously, because that would be a lot of motion to sleep through, but on the lowest and, like, softest setting with the massages going and the Bluetooth speakers that you can hook up to music or a show or something, it's just so–" Karl paused when he heard a strange noise from George, glancing over to see his thighs tensed together and one hand covering his ribs as he leaned towards the other side. As soon as he did, however, he flinched again and leaned back to the other side. Karl watched this happen a few more times before he situated himself, sitting very stiff in the middle of the side cushions, arching forward slightly. "Dude, are you okay?"

"Y-yeah–" George began, but he had to stop before he got any further to bite back a giggle, clamping his mouth shut. He tried to lean forward, or push himself out to the end of the chair, but with the angle the chair was reclined at it was nearly impossible to sit up far enough to get any leverage, especially with how he was quickly growing weaker from the constant tickling. He grabbed the sides, trying to pull himself, but his elbows gave out and he fell right back into the chair, a strained noise leaving his mouth as he arched away again, putting his hands on his own thighs and squeezing the material of his shorts. Karl smirked, and suddenly he knew exactly what was going on.

"Ohhhhh, I see why you're uncomfortable," Karl began, and George looked up at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw, trying to figure out whether he'd been caught yet.

He absolutely had been.

"Y-you doho?" He asked, letting his first giggle slip, holding his breath to keep any more from following.

"Yeah! You gotta lean all the way against it for it to work!" Karl explained, pretending he had no idea what he was doing, but the smirk on his face and the way he giggled proved otherwise. Then, just as cruel as his smirk implied, he reached forward and curled his hands around George's sides, pressing him all the way back into the vibrating chair. George gasped, shaking his head, whining and pushing Karl's wrists away. "There we goooo, see! Isn't that so much better?"

"Karl, nohoho, no, thahat– this is–'' George tried to fight back, pushing at Karl's hands, but Karl didn't budge. Instead, Karl just held his sides more firmly, and rattled him against the chair, shaking and bouncing his upper body against the already incessant vibrating sensation. George curled up immediately after Karl steadied him, leaning forward and pinching his elbows into his sides. He tried to pull his legs up, but he was stopped by his calves and feet still being held hostage in their designated parts of the chair. His giggles had already begun, and suddenly they felt impossible to keep at bay, and he started giggling openly, only getting louder and more boisterous as the maddening tickles went on. "Oh, gohohod, Kahahaharl!"

"Aww, what's-a-matter, George? Is the pretty boy too tickly to handle a little massaging?" Karl teased, his hands still resting on George's sides, vibrating his fingers in as well just to make George squeal and scrunch up more, shaking his head wildly.

"Nahahaha, Kaharl!" George pleaded. He once again tried leaning forward and arching his spine, keeping his back as far away from the tickles as he could (even though his hips and legs were still horribly trapped), and Karl decided that just wouldn't do. So, just to be more cruel, he braced himself on the arm of the chair and hopped up onto George's lap, letting his knees rest on either side of George's thighs and settling himself right on top of his legs. George nearly screamed, immediately followed by an intense blush and him curling in on himself further.

"Yeah, you've got nowhere to run off to now, do you, kitten?" Karl teased, putting one hand on George's chest and pushing him back into the chair.

"KAHARL–" George yelped, biting back more laughter as he tried desperately to push against Karl's hand, but he got nowhere. Then, even though it was entirely unnecessary, Karl placed his other hand on his chest and pushed as well, just to make him feel even more helpless, "KARL, PLEHEHEASE–"

"Please, what?" He asked sarcastically, sliding his hands down George's chest and slipping his fingers under George's arms. The elder tensed immediately, groaning and clamping his arms down to his sides, looking up at Karl with pleading eyes and a wide smile. "Please help even out the tickles by giving some of my own? George, that is just such a good idea, you read my mind!" Karl dug his fingers into George's underarms, making him curl up his shoulders and shake his head wildly. His elbows bent as well, his hands clenched into fists, and all he could think to do was twist his wrists, fidget his fingers, and shake his clenched hands around to get his nerves out. Karl giggled at this, always a fan of when George did that, finding the reaction (that he, Sapnap, and Dream refer to as his "tickle hands") absolutely adorable and endearing.

"Nohohoho, Kahaharl!" George whined, twisting and turning whichever way he could, ending up leaning to the left with his forehead against Karl's upper arm. Karl giggled, sliding out of his armpits and pushing his shoulders to sit him straight back again, making George squeeze his eyes shut and shake his head again. "Whyhyhyhy?!"

"I never told you to move, dummy! Stay where you are."

"I cahahahan't!"

"Well, sucks for you then," Karl finished, bracing his hands on George's thighs as he adjusted himself. This motion only earned him a squeak and a violent flinch, George's legs clearly trying to buck up away from the vibrations underneath them, and Karl only giggled and reached behind him to squeeze at George's knees. George screamed out in laughter, throwing his head back against the chair and squirming wildly, and Karl could feel his knees trying so, so hard to kick or push or move in any way to escape Karl's fingers, to entirely no avail.

He was trapped, and he was trapped well.

"Oh gohohohod, Kahahaharl, pleheHEASE–" He yelled, his laughter increasing in volume at the end when Karl grabbed his thighs again, squeezing them a few times about mid-way up as he actually did adjust himself. He stood up, his legs on either side of George's with his feet planted on the floor, still keeping his body firmly in place but giving himself more room to move now. George looked up, giggling even more nervously when he noticed Karl was now towering over him. "Wh-whahaha– whahahat ahare you doihihihing?"

"Getting better leverage? Duh, stupid," Karl bit with a giggle, quickly ruffling George's hair and then grabbing his sides when he reached up to fix it.

"KARL!" George yelped, grabbing Karl's wrists before falling into more frantic laughter. Karl laughed at him again, squeezing his sides once. "Ihihihit's nohot funnyhyhy!"

"It's so funny, I've said this to you so many times. You get so jumpy when you get tickled, it's the cutest thing ever," Karl said, scrunching up his nose in the middle and making George scrunch his as well, shaking his head.

"Nohohoho!" George protested, squeezing Karl's wrists before sliding his hands off, clenching them into fists and softly resting his fists on Karl's arms.

"Oh, god, and your poor thighs are against the vibrations too, and on the backs too! Wow, Georgie boy, this must be hell for you, you poor thing."

"Shuhuhut uhuhup!"

"Hm… okay! I'll use my mouth somewhere else then," Karl said, suddenly leaning down and pushing the front of George's t-shirt up so he would understand what was happening before getting to make the inappropriate joke that he knew George was thinking of. George gasped, sucking in his tummy and pressing back into the chair, just to flinch back down and keep switching between the two. Karl was right, his tummy really was jumpy– as were his legs and arms, and his heart in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach.

"NO! Kahahaharl, nohoho!" He protested, placing one hand on the back of Karl's head and holding the other one out in the air next to him, unsure what to do with it, fingers tense and twitching as he shook his hand out to try to expel some of his trapped energy. "Kahaharl, plehehease don't, plehease dohohon't, you cahahahan't!"

"I mean, I can. And I'm gonna. If I raspberry your tummy it'll make the vibrations even on both sides of you! Right, my kitten?" Karl teased, giggling when he felt George's legs twitch behind him with the urge to get free. George shook his head wildly, keeping his eyes up so he wouldn't make eye contact with Karl.

"I hahahahate thihihis," George whined, clearly lying, as he made no move to push Karl away even before he began, and made no move to truly sit back up even before he lost a majority of his strength, considering he technically did have free reign to do so. In fact, Karl could've sworn he felt George even pull his head closer when he started getting impatient and antsy.

"Yeah, yeah, you hate this, you hate me, I'm so cruel and mean and horrible to you, yada yada. We've heard it all before, handsome, we know it's not true. Now shut your mouth and laugh more," Karl teased, ignoring George's gasp and attempts to stutter out a response and pushing forward instead, pressing his lips right next to George's belly button and blowing the biggest raspberry he could manage.

"NAHA–!" George squealed, tensing his stomach and tangling his fingers in Karl's hair. He didn't pull, making no indication that he even cared if Karl would stop or not, but Karl knew he must've been exhausted due to the constant tickling sensation he was already suffering through because of the massage chair. He blew another raspberry, this time closer to the front of his ribcage, making him jerk to the side and then jerk back when he hit the vibrating cushion instead. "Plehehehease!" George pleaded, and he squeezed his hand on Karl's head a little tighter, and Karl decided to cut him some slack.

"Okay, okay, I'm done. Relax, you baby." Karl said as he pulled back, standing up straight and crossing his arms, looking down at George with a fond smile as he continued laughing hysterically, his squirming starting up again when he had more room to move.

"Kaharl, plehehehease," George pleaded, curling his arms in again and covering his face with his hands.

"I don't know what you mean," Karl replied, his tone betraying him almost immediately.

"Kahahaharl!" George whined, dropping his hands down to the chair and trying to push himself up one final time, but it was still no use. He dropped down again, grabbing his shorts and arching his back again, unsure of what else to do with himself.

"Oh my god, you're so overdramatic, it cannot be that bad."

"Thehehehen yohou tryhyhy!" George fought back, reaching over to grab the remote to turn the chair off himself, but he squeaked and yanked his arm back when he was cut off by Karl harshly poking his ribs and then grabbing the remote first so George couldn't get it. "Nohoho!"

"Too slow!"

"Kaharl, plehehease, tuhurn it ohohohoff!"

"Hmmmm…" Karl pretended to think, looking up at the ceiling and tapping his cheek, drawing his mouth to one side before clicking his tongue a few times.

"Plehehehease, I cahahahan't tahahake ihit anymohohore!" George pleaded, and Karl knew he was telling the truth. He could tell George was completely tickled out, so he giggled softly and pressed a few buttons, stopping the movement of the chair completely.

"Ugh, fine. If I have to," Karl rolled his eyes softly as the chair went still, chuckling at George's relieved whimper. "Even though I'd love to leave you stuck there forever because you're just that cute, I think you've suffered enough for one day."

"Thahank yohou," George agreed, letting his eyes slip closed as he caught his breath, his smile still plastered to his face and residual giggles still falling from his lips. He recovered relatively quickly, as the tickling wasn't intense and difficult so much as it was resilient and tiresome, and he let out another sigh about a minute later when he felt like he was fully present again. "That was so evil."

"To be fair, I had no idea it would tickle you that much, to be 100% clear," Karl defended, placing the remote back in the side pouch and climbing onto the chair to sit on the arm, putting his feet next to George's thigh and shoving his toes underneath him, making them both laugh at the strange action. "Like I genuinely didn't know it would, I know it tickles a little, because I've used it before and it does give you a little– a little somethin'-somethin', y'know? But it's never been unbearable, usually it just feels nice," Karl explained, making George him in agreement. George glanced up at Karl, before leaning over and pressing his temple against Karl's knee. Karl smiled, reaching down to play with George's hair as he sighed again, softer this time. He continued speaking. "But I guess since you weren't anticipating it, and you've never used it before, it was just worse. Maybe I've just gotten used to it?"

"Mm, maybe. That is quite possible," George agreed, his voice already sounding sleepy.

"Or maybe you're just really ticklish."

"That's– what!?" George complained, whipping his head up to look at Karl and ending up with Karl's hand on the top of his head. Karl chuckled and gently tilted his head back down, carding his hand through his hair again and letting him sulk against his shin. "That's not true."

"No, it's not. Well, it is, you are really, really, really ticklish," Karl said, chuckling and scratching George's scalp lightly when he whined and pushed against his leg more. "But I'm just teasing about that being the reason, I know it's not."

"Good. You'd better," George mumbled, pushing away from Karl's leg and tugging on one of his ankles. "Come down more."

"Like– down with you?"

"Mhm."

"Oh!" Karl smiled, pushing himself down to sit on top of George, perching himself on his lap and crossing his ankles over the arm of the chair. George leaned back against the chair, now pulling Karl's arm so he stayed against his chest. "S'this good?"

"Mhm," George confirmed with a smile, closing his eyes again. The room was silent for a few seconds, before George continued quietly. "Do you– do you think you could try the actual massage part? Without the stupid vibrating part."

"Yeah! Of course, dollface," Karl said, kissing his cheek softly when he gave him a confused look. Karl turned the back massage section on low, letting George feel it out before flicking it to the second level and leaving it there, smiling as he immediately relaxed into it.

They stayed like that for about 5 minutes, until George figured the massage had run its course and had Karl turn it off. Everything seemed peaceful, George finally seemed relaxed, and Karl got to witness George being the cutest person on the planet (in his opinion), and they figured they'd just be able to sit back and cuddle up together while watching something or talking aimlessly.

Until Sapnap came back downstairs from taking a shower, and asked what they'd gotten up to while he was gone. Karl, obviously, was thrilled to explain, having to slap a hand over George's mouth to muffle his screaming and protesting while he did so, and Sapnap was very interested in the information he'd just received.

Needless to say, the room did not stay quiet for long.

#lee!george #ler!karl #mushies lee!george week #cals writing

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