#before turning on the positivity for the kids

[truly-neutral-art]

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt. 1

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is. 

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow. 

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat. 

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine. 

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes. 

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both. 

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge. 

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell. 

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted. 

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him. 

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other. 

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull. 

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk. 

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs. 

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset. 

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move. 

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked. 

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score. 

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back. 

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close. 

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily. 

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact. 

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair. 

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.” 

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted. 

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck. 

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down. 

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible. 

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet. 

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

#dinluke #star wars #luke skywalker #din djarin #art #dinluke fanart #fanfic #fanfiction #pacific rim au #dinluke au

[oneofstarkskids]

saturn

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky just likes to spoil his doll. you shouldn't expect any less on date night

genre: do you even have to ask anymore? ofc it's fluff

*not my gif*

it was your favorite night of the week. date night. you and bucky promised to spend one night a week just for yourselves. no missions, no avengers, just the two of you.

you would switch off planning every other week. today it was bucky's turn, and he always had the most romantic ideas.

you always loved spending time with bucky, but you especially needed it today. you felt inexplicably exhausted and wanted nothing more than sweet kisses and soft whispers from your blue eyed soldier.

his hands were resting on your hips and he had this teasing grin that told you he was up to something. "sam's letting us borrow his truck and it's already packed up."

you arched a brow, "how long are we going to be gone?" he kisses your forehead, "just for the night. don't worry, doll. i've got everything under control."

his words melted your heart and a smile spread across your lips instantly. "you can't tell me anything? not even an itty bitty clue?" you asked with a pout.

he gave you a stern look, "no, because that would ruin the surprise."

you groaned, but bucky just wrapped you in his arms and kissed all over your face, "you can wait a couple hours. trust me, it'll be worth it."

you grinned and shook your head, but you believed him.

he set you down carefully, "now go pack an overnight, so we can get out of here." you laughed and started walking away, but jumped as you felt bucky slap your ass. you turned around and shot him a glare.

the drive down was long and unfamiliar. you practically sighed in relief when bucky finally stopped the vehicle and turned off the engine.

you stepped out to stretch your legs and look around, but there was nothing to see. nothing but miles of fields and distant trees.

"hey, bucky?" you shouted to him as he got out too.

"yeah?" he shouted back, digging in the cargo bed for something.

"did you drag me out here to murder me?" you joke bluntly.

you turn to meet his disappointed scowl. "really?" he asks as you walk towards him.

you laugh, "i'm kidding! but seriously, what are we doing all the way out here?

bucky starts unfolding blankets and making a pallet in the back of the truck, "well, ever since we watched the one movie about the girl who falls in love with the boy but doesn't tell him she's dying, you haven't stopped talking about how romantic star-gazing is. so..."

he pulls out a large telescope and has the cutest grin on his face. you can hardly contain your excitement, "bucky! that's so sweet!" he gently sets the device down before you run into his arms.

"anything for you, doll face," he chuckles and places a kiss on your temple.

you help him finish setting the scene before laying in his arms and talking for a couple of hours. and of course, he brought snacks. could he be anymore perfect?

once it finally gets dark enough for you to see the stars, you look up in awe. you'd lost complete track of time with bucky. he stands up in the bed of the truck and reaches for your hand to lift you to your feet.

bucky brings you close and positions the telescope just right for you. he stands right up against you as you gaze at the sparkling sky. every now and then you'll ask him about a constellation and he'll look at this book that he brought along to give you the answers.

one could say it was the perfect date, but what really made it perfect was him.

a/n: i low key rushed the ending but its fiiiine. it's 4 am, give me a break.

#marvel #mcu #fanfiction #avengers #marvel fluff #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #a walk to remember mentioned!! #saturn sza

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (With Benefits) PT5

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k+

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, no angst, pet names (sweetheart, ma, honey, etc), nickname (Cherry), morning sex, oral m!receiving, p in v, creampie, implied cockwarming, happy ending. That’s all?? Short (bad) ending

(A/N: it was heavily inspired by this request. Sorry if this is ass or a bad ending. Tho I hadn’t even intended this to be a series at all. Thank you guys for 350+ followers. I love you all and I appreciate it.)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Me and Chris had hooked up a few times this week.

It was ‘normal’ for us. Yet I noticed that it started to feel a lot more intimate and sensual.

It didn’t just feel like plain sex.

He started to give me aftercare afterward. Treating me with more care than ever before.

He wasn’t treating me like meat anymore. And it was confusing.

I feel like we’ve done way more positions in the past week rather than the entirety of this arrangement. Before it used to just be doggy, cowgirl, and the occasional, very rare, missionary.

But in the past week, we’ve done a lot of different types of missionary. And everything we did felt intimate.

Everything went back to normal. Or at least how normal it could be.

All his snide remarks didn’t seem as menacing and as disrespectful as they used to be.

I was laying wrapped up in Chris’ arms. We had a passionate night yesterday, and he cleaned me up and stayed over after.

He never stays over.

Ever since the day that we had made up a that day a week ago, he’d been almost, nicer..

I started to stir awake. I toss and turn slightly shifting. I open my eyes slightly staring at the wall opposite my bed.

I feel warm. Chris’ arms are wrapped around me tightly as he keeps sleeping. He was snoring slightly his face pressed into the side of my neck.

I at first relax into his touch, until I realize the hardness poking my ass.

Was he hard right now?

Christ, what kind of dreams was this kid having?

I shift in place pushing my ass back into him to tease him. And he actually whines under his breath.

An idea pops into my mind.

Usually, I wouldn’t do this, but who wouldn’t like to wake up to head, right?

I turn around shifting in his arms. I try not to move too fast to not alert him and wake him up.

I wiggle out of his soft grip, listening to the way he huffs under his breath trying to pull me back. But in his half-asleep state, he can’t really.

I push his hand off of me and gently push him back on his back.

“Fuck” I sigh under my breath. I look back at Chris’ sleeping face. The way he looks so calm... I wish he’d look this calm around me when he’s awake.

He was usually always angry. He always looked pissed off at me. Though in the past few days, he’s been nicer. I swear he has been, or maybe I’m just tripping.

I glance over to my bedside table where an alarm clock is sitting. It’s 5 am. Why the fuck am I awake.

I sit, my legs curled in so I’m sitting on them. I look back down at Chris. He breaths out gently his lips parting slightly.

I glance over his entire body. My eyes trail down his bare chest to his crotch area.

Since we had fucked yesterday night, he was only in his boxers, and I was only in my panties.

My eyes lock on the tent in his boxers. I lick my lips. For a second I don't do anything, just watching him breathe calmly.

I smile to myself shaking my head. I sit up pulling my panties down. I slip them off and throw them away.

I carefully climb over one of Chris’ legs and settle between them.

I trail my nails over his thighs up to the very top. I watch his body shudder at the touch of my manicured nails, a low chuckle leaving my lips.

My nails are a long almond shape. They’re not too long though. But I know that me trailing it over his skin like this feels good.

Chris stirs in his sleep. I trail my hand up to his clothed crotch. I start to gently, and slowly palm him.

He lets out soft whiny breaths that almost sound like low moans.

He lets out a soft breath opening his eyes slightly. I watch as Chris sits up on his arms lazily. His eyes are droopy, he stares down at me.

“You want me to help with this?” I chuckle my hand trailing over his crotch again.

His breath shudders slightly. His eyes are lazily open, he blinks slowly.

“Please.” He breathes out.

“Lay back down.”

He does as I say, not bothering to argue about it. He just lays down with a plop.

He lets out a breath when I start tugging down his boxers. I pull them off and unceremoniously throw them to the floor.

Chris has his eyes closed again, hissing slightly when the cold air hits his half-hard length.

“So good for me yeah,” I say softly under my breath. I cup his length gently. I look at the way my manicured nails look around him. “Stay still for me sweetheart.”

He does just that, only ever softly letting out breaths.

I start to slowly jerk him off. I listen to his low breathy moans and whines as I do so.

I lean down leaving wet slow pecks on his leaking tip. The contact causes Chris to whine again.

“Cherry, fuck” he breaths out. He was lying comfortably, his head on the pillow. “Please.”

I chuckle at the whiny tone. I slowly sit up peering down at Chris. He looks so cute like this. I let go of his dick listening to him whine dramatically at the loss of contact.

My eyes lock with his half-lidded ones. I lean down my lips capturing his in a sweet kiss.

“Just shush and let me do this, right,” I say looking down at him.

He huffs a soft laugh making me smile in response.

I lean back down again, making myself comfortable between his legs once more.

My hand cups his member again, my lips softly wrapping around the head. I swirl my tongue around it making sure to swallow all the pre cum.

Chris just hums in approval, occasionally letting out soft whines and moans. Everything he did was laced with an air of sleepiness, he hadn’t even fully woken up yet.

I reach back grabbing my hair into a makeshift ponytail so it wouldn’t be all over the place. I start to gently and slowly bob my head. While I look up at him through my eyelashes.

Chris lets out a shaky sigh But eventually sits up on his forearms to gaze down at me sucking him off.

I start to move more intensely, starting to jerk off what I couldn’t fit in my mouth, feeling his dick hit the back of my throat occasionally.

He tenses, his breaths getting shakier as he watches my every move with lazy eyes. Chris licks his lips. He was looking down at me with such adoration, our eyes staying locked.

I pull off with a pop making him groan under his breath. He throws his head back, still leaning on his forearms to keep him up.

I shift, now hovering over him. Chris lets out a shaky breath feeling me move. He opens his eyes, picking his head back up and staring back into my eyes.

I start to slowly sink down on his dick. Slowly but surely taking as much of it as I can. His hands instinctively go to my hips to help me grind into him.

“So pretty” he breaths out. His eyes are focused on me, my eyes locked with his.

I put both of my hands on his chest, resting my weight on my palms. I start to thrust myself back into him A little faster but still gentle.

The urge to say I love you was so crazy right now. I don’t even know why I wanted to say it. I just tend to say it when I’m giddy or when I feel good.

I usually only say I love you to my close friends. Only when i want to tell them how much I appreciate them. But that’s about all… so why would I want to say it to Chris when we’re not even friends?

I just hold it back and tell myself that it’s my impending orgasm making me emotional. I try to refrain from talking at all, for fear that I would let it slip.

“Chris” I breathe out still slowly rocking my hips against his.

“Yes ma?” He breathes out between low grunts.

“Fuck, you’re so good.” I whine my tone more pitched than intended.

“Oh am I honey?” He chuckles his tone more sweet than I’ve ever heard it.

I sit down for a moment, stopping the minor movements my hips had been making. He breathes out shakily and then looks back at me.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks with a huff.

And to be honest I don’t even know. I put a hand on my lower stomach gently pressing down. I could practically feel the slight bulge he was causing.

“Fuck I..” I trail off. I lean down slightly putting my face into the side of his neck. He chuckles wrapping one arm tenderly around my waist.

“God, you’re just so-“ I pause again. I left a small peck on his neck where my head was resting. “I could sleep like this,” I mumble.

He lets out a soft laugh at that. He wasn’t expecting that, but he also wasn’t mocking.

“I get that cherry, but would you like to get off right now?” He says lowly. I grumble in agreement, slightly starting to grind my body against his.

“Come on you got this ma.” He encourages leaving a light tap on my hip.

I lift myself back up again. He holds out his open hand for me to take, offering his moral support.

I take it intertwining my hand with his. I start to gently bounce on him again. My walls cling to his length harshly, as if trying to suck him back in.

“So tight for me ma” he groans closing his eyes briefly. I look at the scene in front of me, the way his eyes look shut tight, and the way he’s lying there calmly, his messy bedhead resting on his forehead.

This feels so euphoric.

His hand on my hips guides my movements making me pick up pace more and slam myself down on him.

“Just like that cherry,” he breaths out between light groans looking up at me. “Doing so well for me honey.” He murmurs.

The praise sends butterfly’s to my core. I love knowing that I’m doing something good. But beyond that, anything that Chris says to me makes me feel tingly.

And I don’t know when it shifted from anger to giddiness but it had.

I just felt so overwhelmingly happy.

I whine incoherent words of affirmation, Chris just chuckling at some of them.

My pace starts to speed up, as it becomes less and less controlled and more erratic by the second.

Chris bites his lips to hold himself back from groaning at the sight. Just from how much we hooked up he knew I was close. And he wasn’t wrong.

“Come on my dick” he says his breaths harsh. He watches me with lazy lust filled eyes.

I slam myself back down on him one last time feeling myself clench tightly around Chris.

He smiles at the way I squeeze his hand.

He lets me sit there for a second to get myself together.

And once I do, and my breathing gets more even again, he pulls me off of him gently. He flips us around so he’s on top of me and between my legs.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He breathes out, his tone oh so gentle.

Instead of thrusting back in, he grabs one of my ankles, pulling my leg over to my other. I oblige just letting him position me sideways.

I grab the pillow under my head and put an arm under it to make it more comfortable.

His hand trails over my back and side sensually. “You good?” He asks lowly.

“Yeah.” We were back to whispering now, and all of this just felt a tad bit too loving.

He cups his length sliding it between my folds, before pushing it back into my cunt.

My free hand goes to my ass, I simply put it there as Chris starts to gently rock his hips back and forth.

This doesn’t feel like sex, this feels like love.

Hell, we’ve never even had morning sex before. This was a first.

“So good for me mama.” He breaths out his tone low and soothing.

My head stays half-buried in the pillow, my mouth slightly parted and my eyes closed.

“More please” I whine. I hear Chris’ amused chuckle at that. He starts to thrust in deeper but still keeps his thrusts slow and sensual. One of his hands stays on my thigh the other one on the small of my back to hold me in place with a firm but not harsh grip.

I open my eyes briefly to look at him from the corner of my eyes. But the way those sensual thrusts were hitting every right spot made my eyes roll back and my soft breaths come out whiny.

I tried to focus my eyes on him as best as I could without them rolling back.

“Please come inside,” I ask in my best sweet tone.

Chris raises an eyebrow again. I remember way back in the day when he would refuse to do that with everything he had, saying ‘he wants to take no risks.’

But now he just smiles down at me and smiles nodding.

“Relax ma.” He chuckles rubbing my back soothingly. “Close your eyes and let me do this, ‘right.” He smiles.

I comply to his words, closing my eyes. I feel him start to thrust into me again. Still slow and sensual. A few small whines and moans leave my lips.

He starts to pick up the pace, the sound of skin clapping echoes in the room. I let out a few breathy whines, listening to his soft and low grunts.

I move my hand to my clit starting to gently rub it. Chris picks up pace even more now, chasing his own high.

And once I feel his breath get harsh and his pace more erratic I know he’s close and so am I.

“Good girl.” He coos in a whisper. His tone is soothing and sounds like silk to my ears. The sweet praise he mumbles into the mostly quiet room only makes me clench more.

I hit my climax a bit before him again. I clench around his dick making him groan. He gives me one last thrust before burying himself in me, Shooting his spurts of cum deep into my cunt.

I try to catch my breath, My eyes staying closed.

I feel him rub at the small of my back again. But instead of pulling out, he lays down behind me, not making a move to pull off.

He holds my body close to his, and I readjust. Chris’ arm goes under my head, his other arm wrapping around me to keep me close.

Once I catch my breath I break the silence with a soft chuckle. “Not gonna pull out?” I tease.

“No, you said you could sleep like this?” He challenges playfully.

I chuckle back in response.

“So, sleep like this cherry. Don’t you feel all full and warm?” He asks, lightly teasing.

★ ★ ★

So that’s how we woke up today.

Now it was after school already. Time had flown by so fast. We got up, cleaned up, and got to school. And now school was already over for the day.

I laid on my back. Simply staring at the blank ceiling. This was the bed that I woke up with Chris in today…

My thoughts trail off. And no matter what I try to distract myself with, I always end up thinking about Chris.

I don’t know what that was. But I liked waking up next to Chris.

I need to talk to him.

I sit up and walk to my mirror. looking into it I fix my hair. Looking to see if my makeup was still in place.

I hadn’t changed yet so I was basically ready to go.

I grab my phone and put it in the back pocket of my jeans.

I start to trod down the stairs fast. I take my car keys and swing open the door.

But right as I go to step out I see Chris standing there his hand raised as if he was going to knock on the door before I swung it open.

I freeze in my step pausing. I do a double take and so does Chris.

“Chris?”

“Cherry?”

We both pause looking at each other.

But before I know it my arms wrap around his neck and I pull him in for a passionate kiss.

He kisses back with just as much vigor. His hands go to my waist pulling me closer to him.

When he licks at my lips I gladly part them for him, feeling his tongue explore my mouth.

After a while we pull apart for air, our mouths still connected by a string of saliva.

My hand trails down his arm until I grab his wrist and pull him inside. I close the door unceremoniously. “We should talk.” I breathe out looking at the floor.

I feel Chris’ hand cup my jaw making me look back at him. He connects our lips again, and I sigh into the kiss. It feels strangely comforting.

He pulls away. “Talk to me Cherry.”

I look back up at Chris. I swallow at his tone. He looked so kind now.

What had changed?

“Chris, I-” I pause thinking of how to word this.

“I like hooking up with you, but I also like being close to you and talking to you. And..” I trail off.

He looked at me for a moment to see if I’d continue talking.

“I like you too.” He says under his breath finishing my thought.

I pause looking up at him. “You do?”

And with that he is once again leaning down and giving me a passionate kiss. It’s close-mouthed but it’s more than enough to convey his love for me.

He pulls away and I look back up at him.

I try to hold back the smile growing on my face. But the way he was smiling at me was making me all giddy.

I break out in giggles and so does he. I lean more into him muffling my laughter with his chest.

After a moment of laughing my smile stays firmly on my face.

“I love you so much”

And despite love being a strong word, it feels like the only thing that could describe this.

He looks at me with such adoration, affection, and… well, love.

He used to be so cold, but it looks like his anger for me melted away with all the heated things we’d been doing.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks sweetly his toothy grin on display.

“Of course.”

Masterlist

A/N: I have so many things that I still want to write (I have a whole list lmao). but I really loved writing this. my req + asks are open if you wanna send me something <33

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh

#Spotify #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #smut #christopher sturniolo x reader smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #fanfic series #fluff

[melrosing]

the thing that annoys me the most about the bullying claim among the stark sisters is that they talk about how much it affects Arya that she thinks she’s ugly and such and like she does, but she’s so much more worried about being “bad” she killed a boy. She’s also going through poverty and war and starving and being introduced to cults/bands of “justice” by murder

but nooooo she totally is more affected by being called horse face despite being compared to SOOOOOO MANY PRETTY PEOPLE AND THAT MEANS SHES GOOD (never mind that good looking=good person should NOT BE YOUR BASIS)

I think most people, and especially girls, know exactly how it feels to worry about your appearance and feel ugly and unattractive, and I get that this is a particular pain for Arya, who apparently has never been called pretty except by her dad one time in AGOT, in an offhanded comparison to her aunt Lyanna. I don't think attractiveness is the most important thing to validate in any child, but I do think that it is good and nice to affirm to your child that they have their own beauty, so that they can then negotiate their relationship with that word from a safer place in adulthood.

It's not about telling your child they don't look a certain way (e.g. no good telling Brienne she's a normal height and her nose is hardly crooked at all), but that the way they look is something unique to them and something they should take pride in, regardless of what others say. Like I think it's an OOC moment in the show, but I think it's sweet when Olenna tells Brienne she looks 'marvellous' or something. She's not saying 'you look like bella hadid', she's saying 'I love the way you look!' to a woman who has received nothing but insults (despite looking like fuckin. Gwendoline Christie lmao). that is nice. it's not the most important compliment anyone can receive, but it embraces divergence as positive.

as it goes though, Arya is a pretty girl and it's just weird that the adults found countless compliments for Sansa and none for Arya. and that's why I find it so bizarre that everyone wants to pin Arya's self-esteem issues on Sansa, a prepubescent child!! like, would Arya have taken these insults so hard if Cat had stepped in and said 'don't listen, you're a lovely girl and your father says you look just like your aunt Lyanna! sansa i am telling you off for calling people names'. children are always going to call each other mean names! it is one thing that is practically guaranteed to happen in any sibling relationship, and anyone who says otherwise is an only child or lying.

but it is much harder for a child to manage that hurt if they're getting called those names, and society seems to be reifying to truth of them at every turn! Septa Mordane is calling her ugly! Cat is calling her a mess! Ned has never complimented her till AGOT! etc! she has never received a compliment before! so how on earth can you say 'and Arya's self-esteem issues can all be traced back to the playground bickering between she and Sansa and Jeyne' when Arya is obviously getting the same message from what seem like far more authoritative sources! is it not worse that those sources are all complimenting Sansa all the time and never Arya? does that not make it worse when Sansa acts like a child about it? like!!

and yeah I agree that there are other more painful insecurities Arya is struggling with. I do think at least part of the reason that this argument keeps coming up in fandom is that people keep trying to claim that Arya's story is similar to Brienne's, in that she IS ugly according to society's standards and that's ok! which isn't true, Arya is canonically a pretty kid with a dirty face and unbrushed hair. that's all it is. so if we could just accept that, there'd be no excuse for the insistence that this is an important aspect of Arya's story.

because it isn't. like im sorry but the ugly duckling means nothing when there are plenty of people who don't grow up to be swans. they get called ugly as children, and they get called ugly as adults. look at Brienne: she has suffered far, far worse prejudice as a result of her appearance in childhood, and she doesn't get the catharsis of growing up pretty to show them all how wrong they were. Brienne has been treated like a fucking monster for how she looks, all of her life. this is a character for whom her appearance IS actually an important theme, and it will be meaningful to see her realise it's a strength, and find love etc. I'm sorry but Arya growing up to be beautiful doesn't mean shit to me lol. I fully accept it's canon, but it is not a meaningful story beat, in a story with people like Tyrion, Brienne and Sam. Arya's story has so many more fascinating themes about identity, trauma, justice, war, friendship and family. if Arya was pretty all along, why should I care?

#ask #asoiaf #arya stark

[antiquitea]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john egan x gale cleven.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the last place that john egan wants to be the summer before he graduates high school is the egan family cottage, a place where time and everyone else seems to have forgotten. having been intent on finding a summer job, spending time with his friends, going to parties, and making out with pretty girls, john is irked that the egan family matriarch has other ideas and wants the family to spend "one last" summer together.

john's sour mood shifts just a little when he meets local, but also not-so-local, gale cleven, a boy his age who works at the small town's one pizza joint. through teenage angst and a desire to break free of the awkward position of not being children anymore but not yet men, the two form a bond that makes their summer a little more bearable. a bond that comes to shock the both of them.

but what happens when more than the summer comes to an end?

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: teen, though later chapters might have a slightly higher rating.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: YEAH FIRST MASTERS OF THE AIR FIC. thank you to everyone who reblogged the mood board and expressed interest in the story. special thanks to @wildbornsiren for being my ride or die and @swifty-fox for letting me share snippets and bouncing ideas off of you.

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! 💚

» mood board. » read on ao3.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈.

Summer 1986 Somewhere in Wisconsin

“Johnny!”

Evidently, John Egan had ignored the shouts from his mother to come inside for the last time. Her voice turned into something shrill that he could hear even down by the lake, where he could normally escape all manner of ruckus that came from the cottage. It wasn’t that noisy, he supposed. But it was difficult to get a moment of peace and quiet when his whole family - his ma and dad, his sister, and himself - were all crammed into the small two bedroom space.

When they were kids, John and his sister, Billie, would bunk together in one room, at first sharing the one bed, John then eventually sleeping on the floor when he “got too long,” as his dad put it. But when one is suddenly seventeen, and the other is fourteen, bunking together isn’t on the table anymore, no matter what Ma said. John would just as soon take the couch, which he was too long to fit on comfortably anymore, in the living room, or grab a tent and camp out under the stars if the weather was nice enough.

“Johnny Egan!”

The last name had been included, it was getting serious.

John pushed himself up with a soft grunt, hands instinctively wiping grass and dirt from the ass of his shorts. He reached over to pick up the battered copy of ‘Salem’s Lot and the empty bottle of Coke that he’d brought down to the edge of the lake with him, cramming the book in his back pocket, and holding the empty bottle between his long fingers.

He didn’t know what all the fuss was about, having dinner at the same time every night. It was summer, no one else seemed to be on a set schedule. Kids, teens, and adults ran wild in cottage country. At least that had been the way. Once upon a time, he and Billie had been allowed to miss dinners and stay out past their bedtimes. Yet somehow, as they got older, Ma and Dad were trying to tighten the reins. Ma had tearfully mentioned that it might be the last time they all got down to the lake together for the summer, as if one of them were fuckin’ dying or something.

John tramped through the brush and tall grass to get to the path that would lead him back to the small cluster of cottages on the the top of the hill. There had been four that had always been there, as long as he could remember, situated around the lake. They went back generations, passed down through handshakes and wills, little more than a handful of rooms for families to sleep, eat, and unwind after a day in the sun.

But over the past few years things further up the road were beginning to be developed, real proper like, and it was only a matter of time before it reached the older cottages down by the lake. John had ridden his bike past them shortly after they’d arrived a week ago; they looked almost as nice as the house that they lived in ten months out of the year back in Manitowoc. John had heard the stories about how the Egan Family Cottage had come to be, put together by his grandfather and a few friends over the course of the summer in 1945, a product of coming home from the war, too much time on their hands, and a lot of packs of cigarettes and beer.

“Jo -”

“I’m comin’ Ma!”

When he was a kid it seemed like a much greater distance between the cottage and the lake, and now he realized that they were within spitting distance of one another. He’d taken up less space then. 

John crested over the small hill at the top of the path, the cottages in full or partial view now. Theirs was on the far right, and despite its location amongst the small cluster, had been the center of his universe, and the universe of all the other kids, summer friends, that spent summers there, for as long as he could remember. But the Miller kids were both off to college the last couple of years, and Amos Cook had passed away early that spring, and his widow couldn’t bear to come down and bring their grandkids with her.

Suddenly, at seventeen years of age, John felt too young and too old all at once.

—

“Lucia’s dad said he would drive us to the mall the next town over tonight. If that’s okay? Ma? It closes at eight.”

John pushed the remnants of dinner around his plate with the prongs of his fork, desperately wanting to be set free from the small dinner table shoved into a corner of an equally small kitchen, to go and find somewhere to finish his book. He only had a couple of chapters left before he was finished, and he really wanted an excuse to take his bike (or the truck if Dad was in a good mood) into town the next day, go to the library, maybe spend some time at the pizza place that had Galaga and Time Pilot arcade cabinets, see a pretty girl. Any girl, really. He was beginning to think his summer would’ve been better spent in Manitowoc. At least then maybe he stood a chance of feeling up something pretty in the back seat at the drive-in.

“Who’s Lucia?” John Egan the Elder asked, reaching over and opening the fridge door. The perks of the small kitchen and its small dinner table meant that the fridge was often within reach. Egan Senior pulled out a beer and held it up, looking at John with raised eyebrows. John nodded, and his dad pulled another one out. He popped the caps off of both and then handed one to his son.

“A new friend,” Billie replied after a sip of water. “Her parents have one of the cottages up the road. I met her today. She’s really nice. Ma, you’d like her.”

“Oh, Billie. Why would you want to go to the mall on a night like this?” Ma Egan asked, dabbing her lips with a napkin.

Dinner had been steaks and vegetables that Dad had cooked on the barbeque. It dawned on John that in the summer that his dad did most of the cooking on the grill, which meant Ma got a break from cooking. Perhaps that was why she had been so eager to come down to the cottage every year. 

“Oh let her go, Ma,” John Sr. said, then taking a sip from his bottle of beer. “She’s met a new friend and wants to go to the mall. Ain’t no danger in it. So long as she doesn’t spend her entire allowance.”

John swore his Ma still believed that they were children who needed coddling and protection from the world. He had his own feelings about his sister getting older - for one thing, she was infinitely more annoying than he had ever remembered her being - but Billie didn’t need Ma looming over her shoulder at all times.

“Well, who will John spend time with if she’s gone?” Ma asked John Sr., as if neither Billie or John will be present.

“He’s seventeen, he doesn’t want to spend summer nights with his kid sister.” Again, they may as well have not been there. “Am I right, John?”

John inhaled, waiting for a moment of quiet in which he could reply in, before Ma was filling the void. “Oh, all right. Is Lucia’s dad going to pick you up from the mall?”

Billie brightened. “Yes. Eight o’clock on the dot, he said.”

“Then I suppose it’s all right. But I want you home no later than eight thirty.”

“May I be excused?” John asked, looking between his parents.

“Of course,” Ma replied, before immediately turning back to Billie to go over the five new rules she’d just concocted for going to the mall with Lucia.

John cleared his plate, grabbed his beer, his book from off the table by the back door, and made his way back down to his spot at the lake. He still had a couple of hours of daylight left, and even after he finished his book (he was a fast reader) there would be plenty of time for him to just lay by the lake, sipping the remnants of his beer, and enjoying the sounds of the crickets and the lake.

—

Back in Manitowoc, the library had a couple of girls John’s age who worked there part time. While he did enjoy going there to check out something new, he also enjoyed leaning over the counter, smiling with all of his teeth, and asking what their favourite books were. He also enjoyed watching them duck their heads and giggle, and on occasion following them to the very back stacks where their favourite books were not at all located and putting his hands under their skirts while they tried to stifle their moans against his shoulder.

In the town library down at the cottage it was small enough to be staffed by one woman, and that woman was old enough to be his grandmother. John wasn’t opposed necessarily … she just wasn’t his type.

His solitary errand completed for the day (he picked a couple more Stephen King books), John glanced at his watch. It was only ten in the morning.

Letting out a huff, he leaned against the brick exterior of the library and looked up and down the one street the town possessed. So many shops weren’t even opened yet, their proprietors moving as lazily as the out of towners who took over in the summer. John didn’t know much about business or economics (despite Dad’s best efforts), but thought that opening earlier would be more profitable.

Or maybe it wouldn’t. He was just bored out of his skull.

They had six more weeks there.

Books placed in the milk crate at the back, John mounted his bike and began lazily cycling down the street back toward the direction of the cottage, passing by the pizza place. It was open, and John spotted a couple of kids Billie’s age playing Galaga. It felt far too early for a slice, but John wasn’t quite ready to go back to the cottage and get through another book in a day.

Parking his bike outside, John then opened the door to Rush Hour Pizza. What passed for rush hour in this place he would very much like to see. The boys were playing Galaga, one shouting very unhelpful directions at the other, but aside from that the shop was empty, save for the thin blond working behind the counter, her back turned to the entrance. He leaned over the counter, one hand pressed against the linoleum and set his voice to purr.

“Hey pretty thing.”

The blond turned around, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, blue eyes wide.

Fuck.

“Um.”

“Yeah,” the boy around John’s age supplied, tucking a piece of his long blond hair behind his ear. “My dad’s been saying I should get a haircut.”

He was slender, but not so slender that John should’ve been mistaking him for a girl. John was scarlett with shame, but tried not to let it show, instead just clearing his throat and looking down at the counter for a moment to get his bearings.

“What can I get for ya?” the boy asked.

“Uh,” John replied, finally glancing up. Okay, so he may have been a boy but he was still extremely pretty in a masculine sense. Was that a thing that men were? John had never thought a boy was pretty before. He’d looked at men with curiosity, but never -

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” John replied. “Can I, uh, get a slice?”

“This early?”

John looked at the boy across the counter incredulously. “It’s … a pizza place. You sell pizza. You’re open.”

“Yeah, but … it’s ten in the morning.”

“Then what …” John trailed off, gesturing to the boys playing Galaga.

The blond boy leaned over the counter, looking at the two younger boys shoving quarters into the arcade cabinet, and then looking back at John. “They’re playing Galaga.”

“I see that they’re playing Galaga. But isn’t this the sort of place where you, I dunno, have to buy something in order to use … the facilities?”

The boy chuckled and John kind of hated him. He stole a glance at the nametag pinned to the boy’s apron - GALE - and then lifted his gaze to his face once more.

“When my dad is here, probably. But I dunno, it’s summer and this place is boring. I don’t care. If they wanna feed quarters into the machines they can go for it. We get their money regardless. At least, that’s what my dad would say. They bought some Cokes about an hour ago,” Gale said. “Pizza’s not even ready yet.”

John blinked. “Then why are you open?”

“Galaga,” Gale replied, pointing at the boys and the arcade cabinet once more. “I was here making the pizzas anyway.”

“So when you asked what you could get me, it was limited to beverages,” John said, letting out a sigh.

“There’s a menu,” Gale said, pointing to the large board above his head. “I can make you a sandwich. Or a sub.”

For the first time, John picks up on Gale’s accent, and cocks his head. “Not from around here, are you?”

“No sir,” Gale replied, leaning against the counter. “Born in South Dakota, grew up in Wyoming.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” John asked. Gale opened his mouth to speak and John interrupted him. “If you say ‘Galaga’ one more time -”

Gale laughed, something big and bright, showing all of his perfect fuckin’ teeth. It stretched up to the corners of his eyes and made his nose scrunch up, and John’s face felt strangely warm again. “Change of scenery. Dad got tired of Wyoming.” He tilted his head at John. “You’re not from here either.”

“Well, I’m from Manitowoc. My family summers here.”

“Summers. Fancy,” Gale said a little teasingly, straightening back up. It was far from fancy, but John didn’t correct him. “Can I make you a sandwich or what?”

John reached into his pockets and pulled out his wallet, rifling through his cash. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Cold cut sub sounds great. Not gonna get on my ass about it being too early for lunch?”

“I would never,” Gale replied with a slow smile.

—

“You were gone long,” Ma said the moment that John walked in through the back door of the cottage, a stack of books under his arm.

John rolled his eyes and placed the books down on one of the side tables next to the couch, which had been serving at his nightstand. “Ma, please.”

“Well, I’m just sayin’ is all,” Ma Egan said defensively, looking up from washing dishes in the kitchen. “Said you were going to the library. Figured you’d be there and back in half an hour or so.”

With an exasperated sigh, John flopped down onto the couch. He wasn’t certain if he could bear even just another day of his mother being overbearing. “Ma, we’re on vacation. I’m almost an adult -” Ma snorted, and John ignored her. “- can you stop hasslin’ me about being a bit longer in town? It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

“Now John Egan, I’ve had just about enough of your complaining,” Ma said with a sigh, tossing her washcloth into the sink.

John sat up a little straighter, hands stretched out in front of him, eyebrows raised in confusion. “I haven’t complained once since we got here.”

“Oh yes you have,” Ma Egan said. “Maybe not in so many words, but you’ve been throwing yourself around like a rag doll since you set foot inside this place. Mopin’ about, spendin’ all of your time down at the lake.”

“There’s nothing for me to do here,” John said, and he sounded much whinier than he had meant to. Definitely not an adult.

“Like hell there ain’t,” Ma Egan said, hands on her hips. “Your sister has been makin’ friends up the road, and don’t tell her I ever said it, but you’re far more personable than she is.”

“Ma,” John began, his voice firm and level. “Billie is a kid. There are other kids around. I, your son who is a completely different person, am not a kid. There’s no one my age around here. They’re probably all working jobs. Which is what I wanted to do this summer back home, but you and dad insisted that we all come here. So forgive me for feeling a little bit put out that I’m spending my summer vacation with nothing to do, when I wanted to get a job, make some money for school, and spend time with my friends.”

“And get up to no good,” Ma Egan said quickly.

“Ma -”

“Those boys you pal around with aren’t exactly model citizens.”

“Neither am I,” John muttered, really wishing he had thought to buy a pack of cigarettes while he was in town. He hadn’t thought he would need to take the edge off there, but it was becoming apparent that he would.

“Not if you keep aligning yourself with that lot,” Ma Egan said, stepping into the small living room, cluttered with John’s belongings. “Look, the reason why your father and I insisted that we all come here this summer is that it’ll probably be the last time we all get the chance to.”

“Ain’t no one dyin’, Ma!”

Sighing, Ma sat down next to John on the couch. “John, it ain’t about that. You and your sister are getting older, you’re not going to want to come down here anymore with the whole family. Hell, you already didn’t want to. But next summer you’ll be off to college, or getting a job somewhere, and you won’t be able to make it down. And your father and I aren’t gettin’ any younger.” She paused and reached over, taking one of John’s hands. “Our lives are all going to change one way or another in the coming years, and ain’t nothin’ guaranteed. But we could have this one last time. Some time together. I’m sorry that we dragged you here. But I ain’t sorry that you’re here. You understand me?”

John glanced over at his mother, letting out a small sigh of his own. He loved his family, he did. But he was filled with that sort of unbridled rage that all teenagers feel when they’re on the cusp of adulthood. Even if he couldn’t identify it, quantify it, it was there. He did an excellent job of keeping it to himself for the most part, unless his mother drew it out of him, like she was doing then and there.

He didn’t quite understand her insistence that they all be together at the cottage when they could’ve been together back home. But, agreeing with her in the past had sometimes been a better option than arguing with her, and John couldn’t bear to break her heart with his own teenage angst anymore.

“Yeah, Ma. I understand.”

—

That afternoon, John had found his father, who was working on a truck for one of the newer neighbours up the road. Turns out it had been Billie’s new friend’s father. Billie and Lucia were inside, enjoying some air conditioning and listening to New Kids on the Block, while their two dads stood over the open front hood of the blue Dodge Ram, each holding a beer in their hand. John the Younger managed to lend a hand, which seemed to please his father, who really wanted his son to one day take up the mantle of the family business back home.

John was still undecided if he wanted to be a mechanic or not. In fact, he was still undecided on what he wanted to be at all.

As a thank you, Lucia’s dad suggested they get pizza. John was about to take his leave when Lucia insisted that he stay. John didn’t miss the way that Lucia looked at him, and couldn’t find it in himself to break the girl’s heart, so he agreed. Billie looked equal parts shocked and disgusted, and he later heard her say, “My brother? Seriously? Ew.”

“He’s got a moustache, Billie.”

“Not a good one.”

John was glad he was out of sight, if not out of earshot, rubbing at the hair above his lip absentmindedly. The moustache was a work in progress. He thought it looked just fine. And Deborah Jensen back home in Manitowoc had seemed to be quite fond of it as well.

Lucia’s dad gave him the keys to the newly fixed truck to go pick up the pizzas, and John Sr. reminded him to be on his best behaviour with a truck that wasn’t theirs. John fought the urge to roll his eyes, wanting to be a good guest, and after taking his time to ensure that the mirrors were properly adjusted, hands at ten and two (he knew his dad was watching), John drove ten under the speed limit until he was out of sight.

—

John pulled up to Rush Hour Pizza with a groan, not really in the mood for Gale. He didn’t know why, they’d gotten on well enough that morning. Gale was clearly bored to tears waiting for the pizzas to come out of the oven, so he’d chatted with John from across the restaurant while he ate his sub (it had been really fuckin’ good).

When the bell above the door chimed, Gale popped up seemingly out of nowhere, looking a little bewildered to see John again. “Couldn’t get enough of me?” he asked.

“Very funny,” John said, looking around. The arcade cabinets were abandoned. He supposed it was dinner time, all the neighbourhood kids were probably at home. “I’m just here to pick up a couple of pizzas. My dad’s friend ordered them.”

“Oh yeah. Of course,” Gale said, hands braced against the counter. He paused. “What’s the name?”

John blinked at Gale. “I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“You don’t know your dad’s friend’s name?”

“... Lucia’s Dad?”

Gale chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t say I recall taking that order, man.”

John sighed, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Well. Are there any orders here?”

“Yeah, a few.” A beat of silence passed between them. “Do you know what he ordered?”

“Pizzas.”

Gale smiled, cocking an eyebrow and folding his arms across his chest. “How in the hell do y’all get by in Manitowoc?”

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself.”

Still smiling, Gale pulled some receipts from a small pile to his right. “Here. We’ll go through them both together. You tell me if any of the names or orders ring any bells.”

“Doesn’t this violate pizza-client privilege or something?” John asked, leaning over the counter slightly to look at the order slips with Gale.

“That’s not a thing.”

Apparently, all twelve people in town had ordered pizzas for pick up that evening. As Gale rattled off names and orders, John realized that the pizza boy didn’t even know his name. It seemed very unfair that he knew Gale’s.

“I’m John,” he said, interrupting Gale mid-sentence.

Gale glanced up at John, blinking slowly. “Well, all right. Hello John. I’m Gale.”

“I know. You have a nametag.”

Gale glanced down at his chest and smiled. “So I do. Forgot I had that on. Okay, where were we? Carlos -”

“That’s it! What’s his last name?” John interrupted excitedly.

“I was gonna get to that, y’know,” Gale said, looking up at John and smiling. “Navarro.”

“That’s the one!” John said, taking the slip from Gale and looking at the order. “One pepperoni, one meat lovers, and one vegetarian.”

“Coming right up,” Gale said, heading toward the back as John pulled cash out of his wallet.

While John waited for Gale to come back with the pizzas, he craned his neck to look into the kitchen. “Do you work here alone?” he called out.

He heard Gale laugh. “Why? Comin’ back to kill me tomorrow night?” he replied, still hidden in the back.

“Not my style,” John replied. “Just … you’re the only pizza place in town it seems, and it’s just you here. Seems like a lot of work.”

Gale returns to the counter with three boxes of pizzas, setting them down and then taking the cash from John. “I like to keep busy. My dad comes in during the rushes, but once the pizzas are actually in the oven the rest is just … transactions. Making sandwiches and stuff like that.”

“Right,” John said, watching Gale as he rang up his order and handed John back the change. John tossed some into the tip jar. He picked up the pizzas and nodded a thanks to Gale, who nodded one back and tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. John was halfway to the door, before he stopped and turned around. “Gale, what the fuck do people like you and me do around here for fun?”

…

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fan fiction #mota fanfic #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #clegan #bucky x buck #buck x bucky #john egan x gale cleven #1980s summer au #antiquitea.fic

[jaeminri]

15:07 ✿ lee heeseung ⁝ 1.2k words

Heeseung stands at the gate of the school. his hands are tucked into his pockets as he shivers, his chin pushed into the deep warmth of his branded scarf and smoke comes out of his lips. It's freezing. Though the sun is out and it's shining painfully bright, casting shadows on everything, the weather is reaching below the positive range of temperature. But Heeseung waits.

Then when he hears the slightest bristle of sound coming from his right, he turns. And like a kid getting to enjoy his candy after dinner, Heeseung smiles the prettiest smile upon seeing you. He pulls his hands out of his expensive coat pocket and reaches one of it out to you.

In the gentlest way possible, Heeseung speaks, “You're here. Shall we go?”

His voice is void of annoyance or anger even though he waited for you for almost half an hour in this dying cold. He remains the sweet, patient him. When you don't walk towards him, he does it instead, then with no hesitation, pulls the scarf wrapped around his neck out and tugs it around you instead. “It's cold, you should be keeping warm,” he utters quietly, as if you don't aren't already. You don't fight him on it, and instead nod, grinning back grateful with tight lips.

Heeseung pinches your cheek gently, then slips his hands into yours, “Let's go.” He says, pulling you along with him. You find yourself doing so, as if it's natural to be there beside him and have your hands wrapped around his in the warmest way. Everything about Heeseung entrances you. You can't help going with the flow when it comes to him and you feel like you'd do anything he says.

You know you shouldn't, you know you can't, but you do it anyway.

“You're awfully quiet today,” he says.

“Am I?” You know you are, but you'll just play pretend for now.

“Mhm, everything okay?”

You nod, tightening your grip on his, forcing the best smile you can, “Of course. Just tired, y'know?” He nods. “But how was your day today? What'd you do?”

Heeseung ponders with a hum, then swiftly, he tugs you towards his side and lets go of your hand, then naturally, he swings an arm around your shoulder pulling you closer. “Not much, just the usual. But hey, my mom called me earlier at lunch.”

“Yeah? What'd she say?”

“She asked me to call you up for dinner tomorrow.”

That surprises you as you pull back in shock, “Me? Tomorrow? Your dad's okay with that?” Your reaction doesn't phase him at all, as he smoothly closes the gap and rests his head against yours. “Yeah, you. Tomorrow. And don't worry about my dad, I know he's mean and harsh, but we can simply ignore his presence.” He jokes with a laugh. You fake one in return.

You know you can't ignore him, especially with the way things had happened before, you know Heeseung's father absolutely despises you and your presence, but to Heeseung, what his father thinks doesn't and will never matter. And if this was some fairytale bullshit you'd agree but you can't — you can't be the reason Heeseung and his father are on bad terms.

“I'll tell my mom you'll be there. She'll be so happy, she loves you more than she loves me, I swear.” Heeseung says with a grin, “Come on, the bus is here.” You give a vague smile.

As usual, it's a pretty quiet ride, with the occasional pecks Heeseung gives against your hand in his. It feels warm now, and he is the reason for it. You fear the cold will get in between any time soon.

“Heeseung? Hey, man! It's been awhile, hasn't it?” An unfamiliar voice calls out. When you look up, it's a man with a wide smile, excited over bumping into your boyfriend on the bus. You glance over at the latter, and his eyes shine. "Jake! It's been awhile, yeah! How've you been?” Heeseung is giving off the same excitement, and it seems this Jake guy is an old friend of his.

Jake pats Heeseung's shoulder, “I've been good, bro. What about you?” He questions back, then with a gruff laugh, he continues, “Weird to see you on a bus, you used to have a driver to send you home everyday.” It's a harmless comment, something nostalgic for them to look back on, but when you look at your boyfriend, he's flushed red.

You wonder if he feels the same as you do.

“Nah man,” Heeseung brushes off the latter comment, “Just, you know, I've been good.”

“Oh that's nice. Well I would chat more, but this is my stop, so I gotta go. But let's catch up soon yeah?” Jake rushes off with a goodbye, and your eyes follow so until the bus continues its' journey then you look back at the man beside you. He's smiling to himself so you nudge him, “What's up?”

He shakes his head, like giddy, “Nothing. Just happy.”

You're not sure what he's talking about, but you chuckle, then you lean your head on his shoulder and shut your eyes. Whatever you want to say, you'll do it later.

It's as if time passes by in a blink, because the next thing you know, Heeseung taps you awake and tells you it's his stop and he needs to get off. He used to send you off to your house then route back to his place but after some time, you told him to just go back first, and he reluctantly agreed.

His stop comes in a few more seconds, but as he stands with his hand still linked with yours, you find yourself unable to let go. You don't know if you're ready, honestly. Heeseung giggles with tinted cheeks, “You're pretty clingy today. I think I like it a lot.” You wonder if he'll still like it when you tell him why later.

You follow him to the exit of the bus door, and he alights too quickly for your liking. He turns to face you on the outside, the door still open, and you know.

This. Is. It.

“Heeseung,” you begin softly. He hums, unknowing.

“I...”

There's not much time. It's now or never.

“Let's end this.” And then it's out. The door is beeping, it's going to close. Heeseung registers it a second slower as his smile drops and he goes, “What?”

The beep increases louder and faster and you push the words out of your mouth as the doors begin to come to a close.

“I'm breaking up with you.”

And then. Silence.

The door closes, and you're left on the bus in the chilly emptiness and Heeseung stands on the other side, still. He's looking at you, even as the bus drives off.

Your eyes burn as you drop into the nearest seat and then everything rushes out like a waterfall. You sob into your hands, glancing up for a moment to look behind, and you see Heeseung running. It's no use, he can't outrun a bus, but the look of desperation on his face completely shatters your heart into pieces you don't think can be pieced together ever again.

© JAEMINRI, 2024

#kflixnet #k-labels #said i wasnt gonna write but here i am. #i luv this #what if.. full fic #lol! kidding #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung x you #lee heeseung x y/n #lee heesung x reader #heeseung x y/n #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you

[eros-ghoulette]

Such a moment

Fluff. Just fluff. (The GIF is random, but you'll get it if you read it)

Characters: Ifrit, Zephyr, Mountain, Aether Word count: 672

There was only one word to describe how their day had been: exhausting. Ifrit and Zephyr both collapsed on the fireghoul's bed. Ifrit's face buried into a pillow, his legs dangling over the edge; he let out a small noise that reminded the other of a baby lynx they once saw in a nature documentary. A chuckle escaped the airghoul as they thought about it, earning Ifrit's attention.

“What?” he asked, one eye closed as he turned his head to face his mate. Zephyr could only laugh more as they saw the incredibly adorable expression on his face and reached out to take Ifrit's hearing aid off, a small ritual of theirs.

“Nothing,” they said, giggling, “you’re just cute, you know?”

Even after all this time, a faint blush appeared on his cheeks. Zeph rarely said such things, and when they did, it always felt really special to Ifrit. He hid his face in the pillow again and sighed: “I need to shower.”

The airghoul nodded and sat up; their legs were hurting. Zeph knew they wouldn’t shower today. Not even bathing felt like a good decision to them. Walking for hours around the city without their cane hadn’t been a good idea, but here they were. Ifrit also pulled himself up now, tilting his head to look at Zephyr, a smile on his lips.

“Should I get us something to eat beforehand?” he asked.

“No, you'll go showering, I'll get us dinner,” they said.

“Okay.” The guitarist knew better than to say anything against it and stood up to pick up a fresh pair of pyjama pants. His hand brushed over Zeph's cheek before leaving the room.

The moment Ifrit left, Zephyr pulled out their phone, calling Mountain. While on the phone, they took their cane and left, heading for the kitchen. The tall ghoul helped them prepare a plate of sandwiches and carried it back to Ifrit's room. They walked past the bathroom, hearing the loud music Ifrit usually listened to when he showered.

“Can you also help me with the mattress, please?” Zeph asked, rummaging through the closet and pulling out a few blankets. They hissed as their knee cracked loudly.

Mountain nodded. “Sure, what do you wanna do with it?”

“Put it next to the bed.”

The drummer also helped with the rest, getting some chairs and attaching the blankets to form a cave. He also brought some fairy lights from his room to make the pillowfort more comfy, and then helped Zephyr to bring all the pillows from their room into Ifrit's.

When Ifrit came back to his room, he found the lights dimmed. The airghoul was nowhere to be seen. Ifrit felt himself grinning like a little kid as he saw the pillowfort, his tail wagging behind him. Just two minutes later, Zeph came back in a pair of black sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“You like it?” they said, smiling as they saw the excited fireghoul. His hair still a bit wet and the scar on his head clearly visible under his freshly cut sides.

Ifrit rushed over and stole himself a quick kiss, practically bouncing with eagerness to crawl into the pillowfort.

They ended up sitting close together, their tails intertwined as Ifrit searched for a film to watch on their laptop, Zephyr munching on one of the sandwiches. He finally settled on Miss Undercover, a film both of them liked. Ifrit wrapped one arm around his mate, making sure that Zeph found a position that wouldn’t hurt them.

A few hours later, the only thing to be heard was their mutual purring coming from the pillowfort. Zeph spread out on their back, Ifrit's arm over their belly, his head on their chest, drooling a bit on Zeph's shirt. Next to them, an empty plate, just some breadcrumbs left and the turned-off laptop.

When Aether came to get them for breakfast in the morning, he couldn’t help but take a pic and let them sleep. He definitely wouldn’t want to interrupt such a moment.

__________________________________

i died while writing this because they are too AHHHHHH and i wanna watch Miss Undercover and my legs hurt

@aweisz there you go

#me and who? #zephyr ghoul #ifrit ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #ifrit x zephyr #ghost band #the band ghost #disabled ghouls #partly deaf Ifrit #ficlet #eros writing

[dariwrites03]

Fucked up Monday. 2/3

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/daribertduck/748615753776955392/fucked-up-monday

A/n: Before you guys kill me; I’m already writing part 3. don’t you worry it’s coming your way. Please comment & repost, it’s giving me much motivation!

Summary: After Ellie kissed you on Patrol, everything was turning weird, you’re full of guilt and other feelings... What happens when your life turns from agonizing to better to so much worse? And why exactly can a few letters change everything?

Warnings: none? I think?

Taglist: @bready101 @lia-winther @liciapeonia @darkerstarsstuff @patricks-fabulous-face ( I tagged some people from my comments, hope that’s alright)

-5700k words

„And I thought I was weird for feeling uncomfortable at that, you know? They broke up, it's not really his place to say anything like that especially after telling Dina he's over her anyways" You're best friend said, finishing up her explanation of yesterdays event with Dina and Jesse. He found the two of them smoking near a warehouse and from what you made out of Ellie's explanation, he wasn't too happy to see them sitting so close.

You and Ellie were having another movie night, those happen pretty often. ( Every Wednesday, to be exact.) sitting on the old sofa in your living room with you're legs resting on hers. „Well, it's still fresh. Don't think he's jealous of the two of you spending lots of time together but maybe it's just a weird feeling seeing her with someone else, though there's absolutely nothing between you and Dina" you replied, chuckling at the thought of Jesse being all jealous over nothing. You rested your head back against the many sofa pillows, enjoying the comfy half sitting half laying position you're in. „Yeah.. totally" Ellie mumbled, looking down at her hands resting on top of you ankles, shifting uncomfortably. Knowing Ellie probably better than anyone else, you knew right away that something seems off.

„Wait.." you said,  sensing the weird vibe from you're best friend. „There is nothing between you two, right?" you said, lifting you're upper body into a more sitting posture. „Ellie?" you said her name as you're so called friend didn't answer right away. You felt you're heart stink, not really being sure of what's going on exactly. „uhm.. I don't wanna talk about it?" she said, looking at you with an apologetic look, making it sound more like a question than an real steady answer. „Hell no, remember our ‚no lying rule'?" you said. „Cmon we made that rule as we were 15, that's childish." she said while caressing through her hair, suddenly looking all exhausted. „It wasn't childish when I had my first kiss and didn't want to talk about it" You mentioned. Remembering the night you ran about 2 miles to Ellie's house after spending the afternoon with some other kids in the pub, playing some stupid games. After you kissed Sophia as you're truth or dare quest you took of running, straight into the arms of the brown haired girl who couldn't participate that nights event due to a cold. Ellie knew something must've happened and as you really didn't want to talk about it, embarrassed by the fact that everyone could probably tell you never kissed anyone ever before, Ellie set up a rule. *„Let's promise to always be honest, life is too fucked up to screw it up with lies"* you knew she was right and since that night you tried to always be honest to each other.

„Cmon that's totally different!" Ellie defended herself, crossing her arms above her chest. „Jesus, Williams, answer the fucking question and stop being difficult" you said with a light voice, feeling like Ellie was some deer that takes of running as soon as you're tone was slightly off. „I mean, there is nothing between me and Dina.. so" she explained and you could tell that She was satisfied with her answer since her shoulders became less tense. „But you wish there was?" you asked, not able to look at Ellie you decided to give you're hands something to do, grabbing the soda can you had standing infront of you at the table. „I.. yeah, I guess? Okay. Who am I kidding" she said, her hands running over her face. She revealed a slight laugh. „Oh god" she groaned, now fully blushing like a 13 year old teenager. „Yeah, yeah I do like her. Fuck, this is the first time admitting it out loud" she said.

You took a sip from you're soda, the carbonic acid being long gone since you opened the can almost 2 hours ago, giving you a second or two to continue to stay silent. Having the opportunity to ignore the trouble of you're mind right now

The Jealousy building up inside of you made you think like you're going all crazy, fighting against the urge to scream inside a pillow you took that energy elsewhere. „okay, good for you" you said, taking another sip from the drink, hoping to put out the fire building up in you're chest. Ellie looked at you saying „it's not weird, right? Falling for her?" you looked at her again, considering of telling her what you really think. You consider of telling her that's it's not weird, but you don't like it either. No , you hate it. You hate it so much because you want Ellie to fall for you instead of her.

But you didn't say that. Instead you betrayed your 15 year old self by lying to Ellie and yourself. 

It's been three months, 4 days and 2,5 Hours without a word from her. 

 Ever since then , You are entangled in the delicate web of grief for what felt like for two people, where the threads of loss and longing weave intricate patterns within your heart. Two souls, distinct yet equally significant, find their place in the chambers of your being.

Dylan, now resting six feet under, has embarked on a journey beyond the veil. His earthly vessel lies cradled by the soil, while his essence pirouettes among the constellations. The wasteland of the unknown stretches before him—And then there's your best friend, a constellation of memories and shared secrets. But her presence has become elusive, slipping through your fingers like sand. She chooses silence—a withdrawal that echoes louder than any spoken words. And you tried. Oh, how you tried to get her to speak—the silent symphony of longing, the unspoken words that hung in the air like dew-kissed spider silk. Your gaze, a language of its own, whispered secrets that transcended mere sentences. But she? She met your offerings with silence—a void that echoed louder than any spoken syllable. She stopped coming over. The threshold of your space became a chasm, a bridge severed by unspoken truths. The door, once a portal to laughter and whispered confidences, now stood closed. The only ever time you got to see her, to give yourself the inner peace of her being okay, was on the weekly parol meetings. She attended, her presence a fragile thread connecting you both. But she mastered the art of departure—slipping away before your eyes could catch hers. The opposite direction became her refuge, a path untrodden by your footsteps.

Talking wasn't what Ellie needed. You sensed it, that unspoken ache in the air—the need for silence, for space. So you stepped back, honoring the boundaries she drew around her heart. But your longing couldnt be unoticed by you any longer so after three weeks, you started writing to her. Youre desperation spilled over, ink bleeding onto paper.  You became a clandestine messenger, slipping perfumed notes into the small slit of her mailbox. Each letter carried a piece of your soul—a plea, a confession, a desperate whisper.  It lingered on your fingertips, a bridge between worlds. And as you pressed those letters into the darkness, you imagined her fingers brushing against them. Would she feel the urgency? Would she hear your silent screams for her friendship?  Handwritten letters—those delicate vessels of ink and paper—weave memories that transcend mere words. Each stroke of the pen, each carefully crafted sentence, carries a piece of the you in them. The intimacy lies not only in the content but also in the act of creation itself. You decided to write her if shes unable to talk, you wanted to give her the space she needed, you tried to be as understanding as you could. But one unanswered letter turned into two, three, four. You stopped putting them into her mailbox after five. 

Now, you're trying to ignore the pain in your heart every time you wake up. Ellie's childish behavior hasn't stopped you from living your life. Instead, you channel your anger and sleepless nights into your work, making each patrol count. Working alongside Jesse has become a bright spot—a fun experience you eagerly anticipate. It's not the same as those moments outside the gates with Ellie, but it's different in a way that doesn't breed resentment.

You and Jesse share a closeness that predates his separation from Dina. The heartbreak they both faced has left its mark, and you find solace in each other's company. Jesse isn't thrilled about the situation either—the breakup and lingering jealousy still gnaw at him. On that second day of patrol together, he broaches the awkward topic between you and Ellie. "So, you gonna tell me what happened or not?" Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the abandoned checkpoint. He pulled a sandwich from his backpack, the crinkling of the wrapper echoing in the dim light. The two of you sat there, weary from the day's patrol, the weight of your assigned route still clinging to your bones. Nightfall had descended too swiftly, and the dangers of this post-apocalyptic world made it impossible to venture home safely after dark. You shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground, the rough edges of the old checkpoint digging into your back. The makeshift campsite was a stark reminder of the life you now led—constantly on the move, always vigilant. Jesse's eyes bore into yours, waiting for an answer.

"Don't really know what's there to say, to be honest," you replied, your fingers tracing the edges of the food you'd prepared hours ago. The silence now haning between the two of you wasnt uncomftable,punctuated by the distant howl of a lone infected.  "Maybe explain why we're now patrol partners? I thought you and Ellie made such a good team. Not that I'm complaining, though—we're badass too. Just wondering why you suddenly decided that Ellie wasn't good enough anymore," Jesse's voice cut through the dimly lit space of the makeshift camp. He lay down on the sleeping bag, using his right arm as a makeshift pillow, his gaze fixed on you. The flicker of confusion danced through the forest of your mind as you replayed Jesse's last words.

"What? I didn't decide that," you replied, studying your friend's posture as he took a bite of his cheese sandwich. "I asked Dina what happened earlier today." Jesse mumbled, his mouth still half full. "Ellie told her it was you who decided to change partners. Don't get me wrong—I feel honored to be your new partner in crime. I was just curious about what happened." - ''the fuck?'' You said more to yourself than him. ''Thats so fucked up..'' -"Okay, c'mon, I need the drama. Please explain to me like everything. Consider me one of your gossip girls," Jesse quipped, his unseriousness bringing a smile to your face. You took another bite of your food, savoring the dry bread as you gathered your thoughts. Trusting Jesse, you decided it wasn't a bad idea to share what had transpired between you and Ellie. So, with a deep breath, you began recounting the events of your last patrol with her. Jesse leans in, eyes wide with curiosity. His sandwich forgotten, he hangs on every word as you recount the events of that fateful patrol with Ellie. The tension, the unspoken words, the ache in your chest—it all spills out, painting a vivid picture of the fractured bond between you and the girl who once felt like your world.

"Damn," Jesse mutters, running a hand through his hair. "That's heavy stuff." His gaze lingers on your face, searching for answers. "You think she'll come around?'' You shrug, the weight of uncertainty settling on your shoulders. ''Dont think so, I think she regrets even kissing me. She has dina now, dont think that she'll need me anymore.'' Your gaze drifts down to your wrist, where the matching bracelet still clings—a fragile thread connecting you to Ellie. You wonder if she wears hers. Jesse, now leading forward, nudges your shoulder playfully. "Well, partner," he says, "we'll keep kicking ass out here. Fuck them both".

After that night, you felt like Jesse and you were attached at the hip. Somehow, you both helped each other navigate the jagged terrain of heartbreak, spending time together and letting the hours slip away. Being friends with Jesse had its perks. He acted as a bridge to Ellie, still maintaining a sort of friendship with Dina, getting slim updates from her. Through Jesse, you received updates about Ellie—whether she was safe, whether she'd eaten enough.

But it wasn't the same. Those impersonal updates couldn't replace the warmth of setting eyes on Ellie, hearing her voice—the cadence of her laughter, the way she'd say your name. You missed the little things, the mundane details that had once woven your lives together. But over the time you started to accept the turn of events, knowing you cannot force Friendship on somebody.

You started to distract yourself outside of work, whether it was with Jesse or... Sophia. After that encounter where Maria broke the news to you about Ellie changing everything, you did the only thing you knew you were really good at: You ran off.

Weirdly enough, two weeks after that pivotal moment and your  patrols with Jesse as your new partner, a knock on your door interrupted your vegetable-cutting session in the small kitchen. As you walked toward the door, a million possibilities raced through your mind. Was it Ellie, knocking on the wood on a late rainy afternoon? Or perhaps Jesse, wanting to talk? Dina? Or maybe Joel, coming all the way to the comfort of your four walls to deliver news about his beloved Ellie being hurt.

Secretly, you wished it was Ellie. So you ran a hand through your hair, glancing into the small mirror hanging near the door to check yourself out before opening the squeaky wood.  But on the other side stood Sophia, holding a plate covered in aluminum foil.  "Uhm... hey," she said, her cheeks flushed with red. "I've made some cake—way too much to eat all by myself. I wanted to share it. If, um, you want to, of course. It's chocolate cake." Her words tumbled out in a rush, and you sensed her nervousness. A Small smile spread across your face as you stepped aside, making space for her to enter the house. "That's too kind," you replied. "You've got impeccable timing. I just finished dinner—perfect time for dessert. Come inside." You didn't mention the comforting fact that her house was all the way across town, meaning she'd walked quite a distance just to bring you cake. Nor did you acknowledge that it was common knowledge that Sophia is allergic to Chocolate but it was your favorite.

One hour with Sophia turned into two, and before you knew it, the entire afternoon was filled with your laughter. She ended up staying over, making your house feel less empty. Since Dylan's passing, sleep had eluded you. Without Ellie by your side, it felt impossible to quiet your mind. Sophia changed that somewhat, but it didn't feel the same. Perhaps your own mind betrayed you, clouding your thoughts about her presence. You didn't want her to leave, yet you didn't necessarily want her to stay either. The universe seemed to decide for you, as the strawberry-blonde girl drifted off to sleep on your sofa after what felt like an eternity of talking.

You settled into your gray armchair, gently covering her thin body with your favorite blanket—the same one Ellie used to take whenever she stayed over. The entire night, you found yourself comparing Sophia to Ellie—the way she moved, the cadence of her voice, the sparkle in her eyes when she spoke about her interests. It wasn't a good thing, you must admit. Sophia is a nice girl, but you never really considered her a potential friend, especially since you both shared your first kisses with each other. After that, things got weird, and you both grew up, walking different paths.

Yet now, here she was—baking you cakes, making you laugh, and filling the void left by Ellie. The universe had a funny way of intertwining lives, even when hearts were tangled in memories and unanswered letters. Having someone else in Ellie's place is like trying to fit a puzzle piece into a space that was uniquely shaped for her. It's both comforting and disorienting—a blend of familiarity and foreignness. Her presence brings warmth, but it's a different kind—the soft glow of candlelight instead of the blazing fire that Ellie ignited.Sophia's touch is gentle, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin. But it lacks the electric charge—the pulse of longing—that Ellie's touch carried. You wonder if Sophia noticed the way you hesitated, the way your heart stumbles when she leans in too close.

The day with Sophia didnt end there, it  stretched into a comfortable rhythm, covering the next two days of your life —a dance of shared meals, laughter, and quiet moments. Her presence filled the spaces that Ellie had once occupied, and you found yourself not minding it at all. The awkwardness of those initial conversations melted away as you both peeled back layers, revealing stories and dreams that wove your lives together.

But life has a way of interrupting even the most harmonious melodies. Jesse, with his uninvited pizza and the entire Twilight saga in tow, barged into your living room. You tried to politely decline the teen romance marathon—you'd seen it one too many times—but Jesse, being Jesse, brushed off your protests. His eyes widened when he saw Sophia sitting there, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. You knew he'd milk this moment, teasing you about having a cute girl over at your house.

After Jesse left, well, pratically run out, you settled back onto the sofa next to Sophia. "That was... Jesse, right?" she asked, her fingers playing with her curly hair. You leaned against the soft material of the sofa, nodding. "Uhm, yup." Sophia's gaze lingered on you, and you sensed her curiosity. "You two do spend a lot of time together—even after patrols," she observed."Oh? You noticed that? Stalking me, huh?" you teased, making Sophia blush. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. "Well," she replied, her voice soft, "you just always catch my eye." And then, without warning, her body shifted closer. Her hands found their place on either side of your waist, and her lips met yours—a sweetness that tasted like possibility. You hated yourself for it, truly. Because here was a girl with good intentions, almost on top of you, and your mind couldn't help but wish it was Ellie.

Another two months slip through your fingers, ephemeral as morning mist. Life, once heavy with the ache of Ellie's absence, begins to lift itself up.  Sophia becomes a constant presence—a sunbeam that warms the corners of your heart as you allow yourself. Your growing relationship with Sophia blossoms, and you find comfort in her laughter, her touch, and the shared moments that weave your lives together. The unspoken question lingers: Are you allowed to call her your girlfriend? After all, you've shared more than just cake and conversations. Perhaps labels matter less than the way she looks at you, the way her fingers intertwine with yours.

And then there's Jesse—the steadfast friend who bridges the gap between patrols and pizza nights. His teasing about Sophia doesn't go unnoticed, but he's also the one who brings laughter into your home. Everything else remains unchanged—the memories, the unanswered letters, and the quiet longing. Life moves forward, and you find solace in the delicate balance of old and new. Patrol was as good as it could be, once you and Jesse found a way to connect your abilities, it didnt really feel like work anymore. 

"Yo, little one," Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the stables, interrupting your grooming session with Lacy. You turned to meet his gaze, immediately noticing his patrol clothes—fitting perfectly against his frame. "What the hell are you doing? We have the day off, remember?" you asked, your fingers still caressing Lacy's mane.

"Not anymore," Jesse replied, already opening the door to his horse's stable. "Dina apparently has the flu, and they both forgot to sign in at the station outside. Maria asked me to take their route for today and look for anything weird." He led his dark brown horse out of the stable, determination etched on his face.

"Good luck with that," you said, turning back to continue your work. But Jesse wasn't done. "Nuh huh, lover girl. You're joining me," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Pardon?" You looked at him, confusion knitting your brows. "Don't hit me with Spanish,"- ''Its french'' Jesse chuckled. "well whatever it was,I don't speak it. Come on now, get ready. We don't have all day." He saddled his horse efficiently, his movements practiced. "Why should I? You said yes, not me," you replied stubbornly, even though you gathered all the essentials needed to prepare Lacy. "Well, because I'm your partner in crime? Your work husband? Love of your patrol life?" Jesse grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. "And because I'll get bored alone. You don't have anything better to do anyway." - ''Rude?! maybe i had things planned?!'' You said, jokingly offended as you grab your stuff  ''You can meet sophia  and have all of those important 'converstations'' he made weird kissing noises ''later.'' He finished his sentance, making you laugh ''Well first of all I-'' You got interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You looked into the direction of the noise and saw the last person you wanted to see today. ''Sup, Ellie.'' Jesse said, leaning against the stable door. ''what can I do for you?'' He asked, eyes stuck on ellie. But her gaze lied elsewhere; On you.

You shivered under her gaze, your heart racing. As you looked into Ellie's eyes—the first time in forever—you sensed something there, something you couldn't quite put into words. Her burning gaze finally shifted from you to Jesse, arms crossed at her chest.

"Earlier, when me and Dina were at the station, I lost my journal," Ellie said, her voice close, intimate. "Can you look for it? Kinda really need it back." Her words echoed through the stable, and suddenly, the air felt too thin. Your knees wobbled, memories of Ellie cascading down the memory bridge, crashing into your stomach. You felt like you might throw up. "Sure, we will look for it. Anything else?" Jesse asked, glancing between the two of you. Ellie's eyes traveled back to you, and silent hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe this was the moment—maybe Ellie would finally have the guts to talk to you directly, to say she's sorry. But as her gaze wavered, you felt the familiar pang of disappointment. Once again, Ellie remained silent.You felt a strong hand on your shoulder, silently offering support. Jesse's familiar scent enveloped you. "Thought so," he said, ending the conversation. Ellie nodded and turned away, leaving the two of you alone. The barn was filled with silence until you spoke with a shaky voice. "Okay, let's just go." And so you did—you and Jesse left for patrol. But with every passing second, the memory of that confrontation lingered, and you realized how much you still craved her.

"Jesus, I hate this path," Jesse grumbled, pushing open the old, creaky door to the station. His face turned red from the effort, and you couldn't help but giggle. "Stop crying like a baby. Let's sign in and leave," you said, walking toward the desk on the opposite side of the room. As you approached, you noticed that a pen was missing. Without it, you obviously couldn't sign in.

"Jesse, there's no pen," you called out, looking at your friend. "Really? Look under the table or something. We'll find one," he replied. You followed his suggestion, getting down on your knees. Spiderwebs greeted you, along with the encroaching dusk. You pulled out your flashlight, shining it underneath the table for a better look. And there it was—an old, leather-covered book. You'd recognize that book spine anywhere, even in the grandest libraries.

You picked it up, wiping away the dust that clung to its material. The thickness of the journal reminded you of what you were holding—a door to Ellie Williams' secrets and mindful thoughts. "Found one!" Jesse's voice snapped you out of your reverie. You turned around, hiding the journal behind your back. Jesse joined you, writing your names on the slim paper of the checklist. ‘Partner in crimes ( Jesse and y/n)’

"Did you find anything? The book, I mean. It's not somewhere I looked," Jesse asked. You shook your head, slipping the journal into your bag without it being noticed. "Nope, didn't find it either."

''Every poem I ever wrote was about her. That smile of hers, those golden eyes—whenever she's too close to the sun, it's impossible for me to stay away. The day I left, my heart shattered into a million pieces. In my head, inside my perfect self-made world, she never left me. All my thoughts revolve around her—the memories etched into my mind. Her touch, so soft—I never wanted to let go. The scent of her clothes, stealing my breath away. The nights we spent dreaming together, the minutes I never want to regret. I never dared to imagine a lifetime without her. Yet here I am, writing these words with a hole in my chest. I'm bleeding out, the wind kissing my mind, refreshing memories of letting go. The silence surrounds me, a reminder to hold on.

I search the past for redemption, but it eludes me. The only thing left of me are broken pieces of her.”

The words were carefully etched onto the paper, making it hard for you to breathe. You hadn't intended to overstep her privacy—why had you taken that journal in the first place? You dont know.  But here you were, sitting with the book in hand, the only light in the living room emanating from the countless candles you'd lit.

The journal looked thicker than usual, and that's what caught your attention first. You knew that book well, even though you'd never seen what she put inside—except for her drawings of animals, Joel, Dina, and you. She'd never shown anyone what she wrote between the pages.

The reason you'd decided to open the book, against all your inner morals, was the fact that as you carefully pulled it out of your bag—treating it like fragile glass—multiple letters fell out. You noticed them right away. They were yours—carefully written letters she'd never dared to answer. The envelopes ripped open showed you she defenetly read them all. You dont know how to feel about that yet. Relieved that she cared enough to read them? Happy becasue she carried your letters with her, doesnt matter where shed go? Or mad, because she never replied? You know nothing. The only thing you're able to do now is bury yourself in the book, reading what Ellie never dared to say out loud.

''Ive been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting. I didn't know if you'd care if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that. Pulled the car off the road to the lookout, Could've followed my fears all the way down. And maybe I don't quite know what to say but I'm here in your doorway. I just wanted you to know that this is me trying'' 

The words cut deeper than a knife,

before you knew it, your eyes traveled to the next phrases, crossed out, you could barely read them:

"It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you.

Seeing you with Sophie burns me from inside out.

Why are you with her?

I know I don't own you, perhaps I never will,

so the anger inside of me when I see you with her

is something I'm not allowed to feel.

What I feel, I shouldn't show you.

So when you're around, I don't.

I let you walk away with her.

I know I don't have the right to feel it,

but it doesn't mean I don't."

The rest of the book was empty, besides some skteches of eyes that look dangerously like yours. You swallowed hard, not really sure of what you should feel. You re-read the sentences out loud, letting the bittersweet aftertaste of them making you feel alive. Your heart has been Ellies since the first time you both laughed together; yet you were so sure of the fact that she would never feel the same. Considering the words in the journal, maybe it wasnt one sided after all. Youre confused, being with Sophia was easy, comftable. But with ellie, it was different. better. You miss the butterflies in your stomach, miss her touch and her closeness. The rollercoster was everything you ever had, after all.

Two days of full selfishness carried its weight, and you continued to keep the journal. The guilt crept in, stealthy as shadows, finding you at night, when the world slept and your thoughts roamed free. Those written pages from Ellie, inked with longing and crossed-out confessions, haunted your mind. You tried your best to hide the pain, a fragile masquerade. Distancing yourself from Sophia and Jesse, you walked the tightrope of deception. It wasn't deliberate; it was survival. The what-could've-been danced like a ghost, whispering secrets in your ear. You wondered if Ellie's heart echoed the same unspoken words.

Sophia, her presence a comforting harbor, yet her touch felt like borrowed warmth. And Jesse, his eyes— The guilt gnawed at you, a relentless hunger. You held Sophia too close, fearing Ellie's phantom gaze. You looked into Jesse's eyes, and the lie about keeping the Journal tasted bitter on your tongue.  Ellie, elusive as a wisp of smoke. The barn encounter—the air thick with unspoken truths—left you breathless. You havent seen her since. You called in sick for the patrol meeting, a desperate escape from the inevitable. The fear of facing her again, of unraveling the fragile equilibrium, gripped your heart.

In the quiet of your room, the journal lay open. The crossed-out phrases, the sketches of eyes—they were your silent companions.

——————————————————-

"Okay, Miss being all sad and distant, I'm not having this anymore. Tell me what's going on right now or I'm killing you," Jesse declared, pressing past you as you opened the door. His urgency hung in the air, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

"Jesus, very aggressive today, aren't we?" you quipped, trailing after your friend into the living room. The door closed behind you, sealing you both in a cocoon of tension. You sank into the couch, and Jesse settled next to you, his gaze drilling holes into your soul."Therapy session. Now. What's going on?" His hands clasped together, a makeshift gavel. The room felt smaller, suffocating. You glanced at the coffee table, considering the whiskey bottle, but thought better of it. "Nothing? Do you want to drink anything... or?" Your voice played innocent, a fragile mask. Jesse wasn't fooled. "The jury says stop trying to change the subject." His tone held a mix of exasperation and concern."The jury...?" You grinned, despite the weight in your chest. "Yeah, me." Jesse's eyes softened, and you chuckled. "It's nothing, really.“

"You're completely distant," he said, his voice calm. "Even Sophia asked me if I have any idea what's going on." The truth hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap.

"I don't know... it's, urgh, weird." You fidgeted with the edge of a cushion. Jesse leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Tell me!" His insistence bordered on desperation

"Okay, but promise me not to hate me?" You gave him a side-eye, afraid of meeting his gaze head-on. "Could never hate you," he replied, and the words carried weight. So you spilled it—the secret you'd harbored, the journal you'd found.

Ellie's words, inked and crossed out, danced in your memory. You didn't reveal the exact phrasing, but you shared the confusion—the way her emotions bled through the pages. Jesse listened, his eyes wide, and you wondered if he saw the echoes of your own heartache.

In that quiet room, the truth hung heavy. You'd kept Ellie's words hidden, but now they spilled forth. Jesse's hand found yours, and you clung to it, hoping for absolution. "It's Ellie," you whispered. "It's always been Ellie."  His silence spoke volumes, eyes carrying the weight of unspoken understanding. He'd always sensed your feelings for Ellie, perhaps even before you did. It wasn't a secret to anyone but her—the way your heart gravitated toward her, like a moth drawn to a flame. “You guys need to talk.” Jesse said.

"I can't," you whispered, the words fragile on your tongue. The weight of unspoken truths pressed against your chest, threatening to spill forth."And why the fuck not? What do you have to lose?" Jesse's voice held a mix of frustration and concern. He saw through your defenses, stripped away the layers you'd carefully woven. Ellie—the enigma, the ache—loomed between you like a shadow."Afraid of losing her? I think you already archived that." His bluntness cut through your heart. You knew it too well—the missed chances, the crossed-out phrases, the silence that echoed louder than words. Jesse could see the pain in you and the bluntless paired with that slight tinge of what appeared to be anger slowly disappeared into thin air, much like the smoke of a lit cigarette blown into the night sky.

"Look" he begins, sighing while he considers the phrasing of this. He means no harm, but being too gentle could erase the importance of the situation "I want to help you, but you cannot hide yourself away. If you truly want this girl, you need to be able to put in the effort. Dina and Ellie arent dating either, dina told me herself that the two of them thought there was something but ended up with nothing. Be honest with yourself, but also with everyone else" You exhale deeply, relief floods your system despite the heavy heart still pounding against your chest.

Jesse is the kind of friend you can never let go. He's just that important.

Between the soft tunes of comfortingly familiar songs and a few shed tears, the two of you scheme together... Creating a, hopefully, foolproof plan on how to finally approach the elephant in the room. Ellie and you; it wasn't over, was it?

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #joel and ellie #the last of us #ellie the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #joel miller #joel tlou #ellie #writing #tlou fanfiction #ellie fanfic #ellie fic #ellie williams angst #elliexreader #ellie x fem reader #f reader #ellie x you #ellie x reader #jesse tlou #Jesse #jesse the last of us #dina and ellie #dina tlou #joel the last of us #thelastofus #tlou part 2 #tlou game

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 31

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/infertility

(I meant for this to be funny/lighthearted but it turned slightly angsty? Don't worry though. It's sandwiched between fluff.)

Consequences

Killer woke up before you did. At some point in the night, the positions changed until you were now the little spoon and he was curled around your back, face pressed into your hair, inhaling the way you smelled. His hand rested on your stomach, having very innocently moved your shirt out of the way so he could feel the soft skin underneath. It slid down to gently knead at your love handle. He wanted to stay like that for longer; unfortunately a ship of hungry pirates was not pleasant to be aboard. "Y/N," he whispered. "You're gonna help with breakfast, aren't you?"

You groaned, pulling the sheets over your head. "Not now, boss. M'sleepy." Clearly, you were somewhere else in your head.

His fingers prodded your ribs until a soft giggle came from under the sheets. "Wake up, breadcrumb."

"Killerrrrrrrrrr." You turned to face him with half-lidded eyes, barely peeking out from the sheets. You were about to plant a kiss on him, but shrunk closer to him when you heard boots approaching the door to the bathroom. He was also turned on his side, facing you, so you were hidden behind him, still under the sheets.

The door opened and Killer half-turned to see Kid standing in the doorway. "Killer, why are there three toothbrushes?" Kid's eyes were narrowed. 

"You must have taken out another one when you were drunk." Killer didn't feel like dealing with Kid this early in the morning. 

"No. Mine is blue, yers is red, and now there's a purple."

Killer straightened slightly. "Mine is blue."

"Pretty sure mine is the blue one."

"Kid!" Killer knew all too well what Kid did with his mouth and frowned at the implication they had inadvertently been sharing. "Why the fuck would I use red when that's your color? I'm blue. You're red."

Kid shrugged. "I like blue." He shook his head. "Wait that's not what I'm here to argue about. Why is there a purple!?" Kid walked around Killer's bed to see who was in it. He had a suspicion that Killer hadn't invited him to your nighttime activities like he promised. Kid grabbed the covers and yanked at them, but they didn't budge, firmly in your grip. So he did the next best thing and snaked his hand underneath, finding a small foot. "Aha!" He dragged you out from the end of the bed.

You tried to grab something to hold onto to no avail. "Killer, help!" You reached for him and giggled. "Noooooo!" You yelled as you were rudely pulled out and left to plop onto the floor. "Ow, Kid." You sat at the foot of the bed on the floor, letting your head fall back against the mattress behind you. 

"I knew it! Ya fucked without me!"

"No, we didn't, Kid." Killer rolled his eyes and reached for his helmet on the side table. "Swear on your life."

Kid looked confused. "Why not? On yer period or somethin?" Why else would you be in the same bed as Killer and not fuck?

Killer scoffed. "What does that matter?" He got out of bed and started to get ready for the day.

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't even remember when the last time I had one was." You didn't think anything of it. Kid was, again, ruining your nice moments with Killer and it was annoying you. "Believe me. I tried." You added, "We just... cuddled. It was... nice." You felt yourself starting to flush and took that as your cue to leave before Kid could make fun of you. You moved in the shadows, trying to avoid being seen leaving Killer's room in pjs and simultaneously praying you didn't get a splinter in your bare feet. Somehow, you were successful on both fronts. Emma and Quincy noticed your absence all last evening, but they assumed you had been helping Killer in the galley and then stayed with Kid. You didn't correct them. It was weird. You could care less if people talked about you and Kid. Killer, though, you wanted to keep that to yourself. It felt wrong to talk about it, especially since it respected his privacy, too.

You met Killer in the galley to help with breakfast. Every time he put his hand against your back to push past you or grabbed something from you, brushing your hand, you felt hot. You kept feeling hot. Really hot. The feeling didn't go away and you were sweating. You leaned against the counter, feeling lightheaded.

Killer stopped his buzzing around the kitchen to put his hand on your forehead. "Are you ok?"

You shook your head. "I think I need to lay down." You felt fine when you woke up so why did you suddenly start feeling cruddy? 

"Do you want me to come check on you later?" Killer probably would have just done it, however he didn't want to overstep, afraid that you would feel suffocated if he gave you too much attention too soon.

"I'm okay." You didn't want Killer wasting his time looking after you. After all, you were the doctor.

You headed directly to the infirmary, rifling through the cabinets for a few things. Before you had the chance to take the rainbow of pills sitting on the counter, a wave of nausea overcame you. Sprinting into the bathroom without a second to spare, you were hung over the toilet, heaving your guts out. Mostly bile came up since you had digested the previous night's food already. When your stomach decided to calm down, you dragged yourself to lay on one of the gurneys, promptly passing out.

The captain was in his workshop, still miffed about being left out. So what if there was no fucking? Maybe he wanted to snuggle, too. So what if he was a brute? He liked soft things, too. The sound of you entering your side of the involuntarily shared space directed his thoughts elsewhere. Kid heard all the commotion through the massively huge hole in the wall, still not fixed. "If yer gonna puke, at least shut the door. Damn," Kid mumbled. He wondered what had you feeling like shit. Surely, it wasn't Killer's cooking. He couldn't think of a time when he had ever gotten sick from his first mate's food. But there was an itch in his brain. Something you said earlier. It sent him into a cold sweat. "I don't even remember when the last time I had one was."  One by one, every time he fucked you played in his head, and by default, every time he came, some times on you, but mostly in you. "Shit." Kid, paler than ever, went to find Killer. 

Kid burst through the galley doors, trying to be cool, but the shifting of his eyes gave away that he was in his head. "Hey, Kil." He pretended to be interested in the food, which was hardly pretending except for the fact his stomach was doing flips. "Did ya, uh, notice anything about Y/N this morning?" 

That got Killer's attention. Kid had never referred to you by name before, always using 'Rotten' or his other nicknames. Killer continued to cook, "Yeah. She didn't feel good." Where is he going with this? 

"I heard her puking in the infirmary bathroom." Kid seemed anxious.

Killer was immediately concerned. "You think it was my spaghetti?" He sounded dejected. The pride he had in his food would be severely wounded if he had accidentally gave you food poisoning. He felt fine, though, and you had eaten the same thing. 

Kid rubbed his arm. "No. I think it possibly, may be, slightly my fault." He was sweating.

The first mate knew his captain well, and knew that he was struggling to say something. "Kid," he said lowly. "What did you do?" Killer didn't know what to think. Did Kid pull a prank that went wrong? Maybe he accidentally poisoned you. Killer knew Kid had been annoying you by moving stuff around in the infirmary. What if he switched the bottles of something and you took too much of the wrong thing? "You better go apologize for whatever it is if you're sweating this badly over it."

"I don't think an apology will do much." Kid took a deep breath. "Remember earlier this morning? When I said the thing about the period and then she said she couldn't remember the last one." 

Killer put 2 and 2 together. "Kid... We've talked about this." The world didn't need any more red-headed pirates in it.

"I know. I know! But in the moment... And she didn't stop me! So it's not all my fault!"

Killer wasn't all that worried. Sure. It was a very real possibility, but he doubted a woman so hellbent on revenge and being reckless would even allow it to be a remote one. "She's not stupid, Kid. If she wasn't worried, then either there's not a reason to be, OR she wanted to have your kid. And I HIGHLY doubt the second possibility. She can't stand even the one of you."

Kid looked a touch offended. "Killer, you aren't taking this seriously." Kid ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't put that much thought into thatpart of his future. 

Killer shrugged. "It's not my kid." He knew that would rile Kid up, but couldn't resist poking at him. If he was actually concerned, he would be more empathetic. 

Kid huffed. "Well the way the two of ya are getting on, yer gonna be the step-dad." He folded his arms, reminded of being left out.

"Oh my god, you're jealous." Killer chuckled. Kid was so cute when he was jealous. His pouty face and grumbling voice made Killer grin under his mask. Killer shook his head and sighed. "Why don't you leave her alone for now, and later I'll go with you to check up on her, unless you want to go by yours-"

"No. I need ya to come with me." Kid quickly interjected. It's not like he was scared or anything. It was for you, in case you needed Killer's support.

After an entire day of Kid pacing the ship, freaking out in his head, Killer had found him and the two went to check on you. At first Kid was freaking out about the presence of a child on a pirate ship, though none of them were raised in savory conditions in the first place, so maybe it would be fine. Then he was freaking out because the combined personalities of you and he would be an absolute demon of a child, and how would he make it listen. Kid didn't really love the idea of a kid, but he would be damned if he let it grow up like he, Killer, Wire, and Heat did. If you even stayed, or wanted it, or wanted to participate in raising it. There were a lot of uncertainties. Unwarranted, as he would soon find out.

Killer knocked and entered. 

"I told you not to check on me," your voice was strained. They didn't see you initially. You had opted to lay with Mini on the floor, instead of the gurney. Lay was a strong term, you were curled into a ball, shivering. "Don't come closer!" You held your hand out in a gesture to stop. 

"You look like shit." Killer saw how green and clammy you were. Sweating, yet shaking like you were freezing. He could plainly see that you were sick. 

Lifting your head to look at him, you didn't think Kid would be there as well. You assumed Killer would probably come check on you or send Heat even though you said not to. Kid, though, he wasn't the type to show concern for another person. You pulled yourself up to be sitting. He had a weird energy about him. "What's your problem?" You directed it at Kid.

"YER PREGNANT!" He blurted it right out. 

You stared at him blankly. How the fuck did he reach that conclusion? A bunch of things went through your head at once. It was something you didn't go telling everyone. But you realized you probably should have mentioned it to the guy who was shooting loads in you basically every day for weeks off and on. You didn't feel bad, however, because you were still mad at him for a variety of reasons and he deserved to sweat a little. "Well, fuck I would have stopped drinking if I knew that." You got serious and frowned at him. "And what do you plan to do about it?"

Kid stammered. "I-I- uh." He didn't have to struggle for long. He thought you were crying before realizing you were laughing at him.

"Kid, relax. I'm not." You smirked. "Is that why you ran out of here like a scared animal this morning?" You shouldn't be laughing at his mental torment, but seeing Kid a little scared was interesting and you were a little delirious from whatever concoction you whipped up for yourself. 

"Told you." Killer stated, matter-of-factly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

"Shut up. I wasn't worried." Kid grumbled, though visibly relieved. "But explain anyways," Kid demanded. "You were puking and... you know all the times-"

"All the times you couldn't pull out because this pussy is too good? Yeah I recall." Mainly, you didn't want to go about your day dripping cum into your panties. You gave up on asking him to pull out however, because he simply couldn't. "I would have been a lot angrier with you if there was a risk of getting pregnant, dumbass. But now I can't help but wonder how many brats you have out there in the world with that shitty ass pull-out game." You were giggling. 

"I'm more careful with whores! Shut up!" Kid was fully red. 

Killer shot you a dubious look.

"Aw, does that mean I'm not a whore to you?" You decided to grace him with an answer. "It's physically impossible for me to have a kid. So you can continue to nut as you please, when I decide to fuck you again." '

"When?" Killer questioned, a cheeky look on his face.

You corrected yourself. "If. If I decide."

Normally Kid would have been focusing on the part about the nutting. However, he was stuck on the first thing you said. You weren't a whore to him, but what were you to him? Both you and Killer had assumed he was jealous of the time Killer spent with you instead of with him. Kid found himself strangely jealous of your attention. He wanted more of it. "Why can't ya?" Kid didn't mean to be rude, for once. He just wanted to know, to be sound of mind.

Killer hit the back of his head. "You can't ask that!" 

"It's fine." It didn't really bother you. You never wanted kids in the first place and in this life, it was a blessing in disguise. A really painful, terrible disguise. You pulled up your shirt, holding the hem in your teeth, and unbuttoned your pants, pulling the waistband down until it was at the edge of your pubes. "You probably never noticed it since you were preoccupied with... other things." There was a pale, silvery, jagged scar about 2/3 of the way from your belly button to your mons, just above your pubic ramus. "Katana got me." You shivered and put your pants back on. 

"Oh," was all Kid said. 

"You really don't look good. Do you need some soup? Water?" Killer saw how uncomfortable you were and also wanted to change the subject since he wasn't sure how much it bothered you. 

"M'fine." You let yourself slide back down on your side. Mini picked up her head and licked you.

Stubborn. "Ok. Will you have someone get me if it gets worse?"

"Probably not."

"It wasn't a question," Killer put on his first-mate voice. He continued, "Kid, why don't you keep an eye on her?"

"I'm not fuckin staying here ta get sick."

"Lucky for you, someone installed an observation window," Killer motioned to the big fucking hole in the wall, "so you can sit alllll the way at your workbench and still see." 

Kid grumbled, walking over to his side of the space and Killer left. 

You barely moved over the next day and Kid couldn't stand the sight of you shivering. So damn annoying. He tried to ignore it, ignore you. Every noise or sudden movement you made had his head snapping up to see what was wrong. He couldn't focus on anything he did. With a frustrated growl, he stomped over to look down on you. "Yer so damn irritating." Shrugging his coat off, he laid it over you. "If ya barf on this, I'm throwing ya into the sea, got it?" You didn't give any response, deep in sleep. His eyes flicked to your right ear. The top part of the helix was missing, damaged from the attack you had endured. He didn't know what came over him the other day, but as he fiddled with scraps, he had an idea. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small, crescent shaped piece of metal that he hid from Killer earlier in the week. It was cuffed and made from a nice silvery-colored metal. With a gentleness unbecoming of hands so rough and calloused, he moved your hair out of the way and slid the metal prosthetic, though it was more like jewelry, over your ear. It attached to the helix that was left to resemble the part that was missing, like the tip of your ear was dipped in silver. "Hmph." A small flicker of pride lit inside him. It looked good. Of course it does. I made it. He didn't know why, but he did.

#bro if someone was using my toothbrush I would puke on the spot #idk why that's so nasty to me #It's Kid's turn to be a sweetie but he's still a meanie about it #idk about y'all but when I read the fics with blatant unprotected sex I get anxious about the reader and pregnancy #be safe y'all fr #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #marooned #kid x reader x killer #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #x reader #one piece #anyways it was supposed to be lighthearted but I didn't want to make light of infertility bc it's extremely serious for some people #I hope I respected that

[barleyalive101]

Don’t you guys wonder how rhaenyra felt seeing alicent birth sons easily while her moth struggled, I’m not saying she wished to see alicent struggle but I’m saying she might have felt some sadness to her mother , some bitterness on her mother’s account seeing alicent having son after son healthily while her mother only had her ,seeing alicent doing the thing her mother couldn’t do.

I wonder if rhaenyra wished to be a boy , then she would have been enough, her father wouldn’t push for a son , her mother wouldn’t have died , everything would have been better ( Viserys would still want more kids as it’s risky only having one but he wouldn’t have been that insistent ,perhaps a break between the pregnancies )

Can you imagine having your best friend that knows how much you love your mother , how it saddens you she died trying to birth the “male heir” , how much it hurt losing her , how much it hurts even more that your father will have to marry , marry someone who’ll replace your mother, turning out to be the replacement, Be the someone who your dad will marry after you told her everything, turns out to be seeing your dad behind your back a few weeks/months after your mother’s death.

I know Viserys must marry but marrying Laena is different than alicent , cause rhaenyra doesn’t have a strong bond with Laena (show ) , it doesn’t feel personal like a break of trust. Having someone whom you cared about rise and take your mother’s place.

Alicent didn’t even have the decency to tell rhaenyra before the council even , alicent knew viserys choice , she made sure she was the choice by otto’s orders , Alicent at that moment didn’t treat rhaenyra like a friend , she was like everyone else.

Side note : Viserys also should have told rhaenyra beforehand , she’s his daughter not some lord to find out at the council. He wasn’t exactly a good dad to rhaenyra either. He wasn’t even there for her after he killed her mother , the first thing he says to her after her mother’s death is about the prophecy like really that’s what you are opening the conversation with ? , After not talking to her for soo long , then he comes in blaming daemon , “you weren’t there for your niece”, well where were you for your daughter ?.

One extra thing viserys never questioned why the fuck does the hand of the king ,Otto fucking Hightower has spies watching his daughter and brother? Spies he hasn’t ordered being put , why is he stalking the royal family, it ain’t his business unless viserys makes it his business, when was it the hands job to have spies without the king’s knowledge?

Back to the main topic ; So Alicent’s betrayal is waaay worse than rhaenyra’s supposed “betrayal” , Rhaenyra doesn’t owe alicent anything after the move alicent pulled , alicent betrayed first keep that in mind , before you say “well Otto forced her to do that” , how is rhaenyra supposed to know that , alicent didn’t say anything and afterwards we see alicent undermining rhaenyra by ordering the bard away ,reminding her of her position above her then after the fiasco with daemon , alicent comes in talks shit about the targaryen customs , ( after she’s married to one , hypocrite) basically dissing on the entire family tree , throws some heavy accusations at rhaenyra, barley letting rhaenyra talk and Rhaenyra didn’t lie to her she said daemon didn’t touch me ( touch in this context means sex not kiss cause even Otto says it as sex ) which is the truth, she didn’t lie , she just didn’t give her full details and why would she , alicent is no longer her friend, she’s her queen as rhaenyra was reminded beforehand.

Funny thing , Like a fool I honestly expected alicent knowing rhaenyra did it with Crispin , would prove that rhaenyra didn’t lie about daemon,that Otto was wrong but no alicent turned into a mega bitch, who constantly sought out to ruin rhaenyra’s peace , out of jealousy, even though Rhaenyra didn’t hurt her.

#pro rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #anti alicent hightower #show alicent #alicent hightower #viserys targaryen #house of the dragon

[flowersforjude]

𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ≈ 𝐢. 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

❛ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦❜

﹙finnick odair x oc!fem reader﹚

﹙next chapter ➵ masterlist﹚┈﹙read on ao3 ➵ read on wattpad﹚

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | canon typical violence, slight self-injury, mentions of death, etc.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.8 k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I've been working on this for little over a year now. I've posted all current chapters on Wattpad and AO3. I thought I might as well post it here too. This chapter was really just for scene setting and character introduction. The juicer stuff is in upcoming chapters. Hope you enjoy!!

The crunching of gravel beneath hundreds of feet echoed through district four in a sorrowful song. Each pair of feet belonged to a different person with their own story. Each pair was distinct from the one beside them, in front of them, or behind them. But today they were all moving in the same direction, for the same reason. Today they all had one thing in common. They were all reluctantly marching towards the Justice Building because today was the reaping for the annual Hunger Games. They were hesitant, and yet everyone walked steadily on their path without complaint, as if resigned to their fate.

I walked with my mother Camilla, my father Lyle, and my little sister Shae. We are silent as we make our way to the growing crowd of people in front of the Justice Building. Today was not the day for idle conversation. Today was the day for fear or for hope. Fear that your name would be called. Hope that it wouldn't, or that some other unlucky child would be forced to go to their deaths.

This morning, as I got ready, I found myself sitting in the bath longer than necessary. I watched with blank eyes as I dipped my hand down into the cooling water and lifted it back out. Droplets of water raced down the back of my hand until they faded out like one of the many lives taken by the games every year.

The longer I sat in the cold tub of water, the harder it became to keep my mind focused on the small things. Like how shivers ran races down my spine or how my damp hair rested limply on my shoulders. No matter how hard I tried, my thoughts wouldn't stay simple for long. Soon they morphed into debilitating notions of blood and death. My mind ran rampant with scenes of tributes dying in brutal and messy ways.

Now as my feet crunched gravel under my soles, my brain created new ideas of torment. Shae turned twelve this year, and that meant it was her first Reaping Day where her name was in the drawing. It was only once, I kept telling myself. She wouldn't be picked. But the odds never favored ones in our position.

"This is where we go our separate ways." My mother said when we reached the point where we had to split up. I could see unshed tears making her brown eyes glossy as she pulled me and Shae into a hug. She kissed both our cheeks before stepping aside for our father.

"Be brave, girls." He told us and then bent down to hug Shae. When he straightened up, he pulled me in and squeezed. He gave me a kiss on the cheek before he stepped away completely.

"After the reaping, we met back here, and we'll go home." My mom said firmly, as if cementing the idea that both of her daughters would be returning to her. She wiped away a few tears that managed to sneak their way down her cheeks. "We love you both."

"We love you too," I replied.

My parents went off to the area where the adults watched. Watched as two kids were chosen to fight to the death. Shae and I walked on together, our breaths shallow with fear and anticipation. As we approached the spot where our paths diverged, I turned to say goodbye. Her eyes flickered over to me as if to plead for escape. She switched her gaze to her line, staring at it like a slithering viper ready to strike if she dared take even one step closer.

"Shae?" I dropped down to her height.

She started shaking her head, and her pink lips began to wobble. "I can't, Lyssa. I'm scared."

I gave her a sympathetic look and smoothed down her hair with my hands. "I know you're scared, but your name is only in there once. The odds of you being chosen are slim."

She inhaled deeply, her chestnut eyes still wide and fearful. I pulled her close and breathed into her hair the words of reassurance that she needed. I cupped her face in my hands, gave her a gentle nod of encouragement, and watched as she tentatively stepped away from me and towards the other children. It took everything in me not to grab the back off her dress and run.

I took my place in line with the other seventeen-year-olds and watched as the people in front of me got their fingers pricked by an intimidating looking woman.

As the seconds ticked by like the timer on a bomb, it grew harder to breathe. The nerves I chained down all this morning fighting their way up. An anchor pressed down on my chest, weighing my whole form down as it rested in the sand of the sea. I couldn't look scared. I knew it made no difference whether or not my fear was visible. If my name was called, then that was that. But I didn't want anyone to view me as weak. Even if that's what I was in reality.

My feet shuffled forward as the line flowed. The girl in front of me gasped loudly as her blood was drawn. In seconds, she was moving out of the line, and it was my turn.

"Next!" The woman called. "Name?"

"Lyssa Monroe."

She looked down the list till she landed on my name. She silently held out her hand, and I held my pointer finger out to her. She pricked it, but I barely registered the small pain; I was too focused on staying calm. She smeared my blood on multiple sheets of paper; in a way, she just sighed my possible death certificate. Those slips of paper will be sent to the big glass bowl, whose only purpose was to hand out death sentences. And I stood a chance of being called. I wonder if that bothers her. That by doing this job, she's sending kids to their deaths. I wonder how she feels or if she feels anything at all. Maybe she didn't; maybe you have to be void of emotion to do this job.

When she called for the next person, I stepped out of the way and went to stand with my age group. I pressed my still bleeding finger into the fabric of my dress. It was the nicest clothing item I owned, and I hated it. I wore it on reaping day and reaping day only. The atrocious piece of material served as a reminder of the worst days of my life. Days filled with fear and dread. The only thing I felt when I looked at it was anguish.

I didn't know any of the girls I was standing with, so I searched the crowd for Shae. I found her standing between two girls her age, but she was so small compared to them.

I caught her eyes and sent her a smile and a wink. I tried to look carefree for her even if my stomach was twisting in rough knots. Something was off; I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, swirling around like unruly waves in a storm. No matter how much I attempted to convince myself otherwise, today was not going to have a good outcome. But Shae needed me to reassure her so she wouldn't break down. I knew she was scared. This was her first year in the drawing; her name was only in once, but it was that one chance that kept her up all last night.

I dug my nails into the palm of my hand. The sharp pain of them digging into my skin was enough to ground me for now.

Sabine Glass, our district escort, strutted out from the Justice Building, and we all focused our attention on her. She had the usual bold and careless air about her as clicked her way to center stage. With each step, her dress glistened in the sun, its green sequins catching the light like tiny mirrors. Around her neck hung a necklace of bronzy-white seashells that matched her earrings, bracelets. The same shells were intricately woven into her updo. Her shoes were the same color as her dress and had heels so long that I wondered how on earth she even managed to walk on stage without falling.

She cleared her throat into the microphone, getting the attention of the crowd. "Welcome! People of District four, to the reaping of the 70th Hunger Games! I know we're all very excited to see who our tributes will be this year, but before that, we have a presentation from the esteemed President Snow!"

The crowd clapped with a small fraction of Sabine's enthusiasm. four was a career district, but only half the population fell into that category. So some of the citizens had pride for this whole charade, but the hatred and fear of the other half far outweighed that misguided respect for the games.

Two huge black screens were set up on either side of the building, and with Sabine's cue, they started to play the origin video of The Hunger Games. We were made to watch this video every reaping day, year after year. It was to remind us of the horror before the games so we wouldn't want to rebel again. When the video was over, Sabine began clapping, and slowly, the crowd reluctantly joined in.

"That was spectacular!" Sabine cheered into the microphone. "Let's begin, shall we? As per usual, ladies first!"

She walked over to the glass bowl and swirled her hand around in it, meticulously searching for the right slip of paper. The tension of the crowd was palpable. Everyone was still and the quietness was suffocating. My heart raced in my chest, like I had just gotten done for a swim and was laying on the warm sand of the beach, soaking up the sun's rays. Though even after all the time I spent out there, my skin stayed its same pale shade.

Sabine plucked out a slip of paper and pranced back over to the microphone. As she neatly unfolded it, my nails racked deeper into my palm, digging into my skin until I felt a slight trickle of blood flow down my palm. My ears clouded with the sound of adrenaline, and only Sabine's shrill voice brought my senses back to me.

"Lyssa Monroe!"

My heart stopped along with everything else as the blaring silence rang in my ears. Chills ran down my body, and the blood froze in my veins. I didn't move; I couldn't move. The girls around me murmured amongst themselves and stared at my unmoving body with sympathy and selfish relief.

"Lyssa Monroe?" Sabine spoke again, this time as a question.

The girls parted like a great wave, creating an aisle for me to walk through. The first step I took was unintentional, but it was like my body had switched to autopilot. My legs numbly carried me all the way to the stage. I didn't raise my head until I walked up the steps and was in front of the crowd.

As I lifted my eyes, the sun seemed brighter than before, momentarily blinding me. When they adjusted, my eyes met the crowd of my fellow District four members.

I found my parents in the cluster of adults. My mother had her face buried in my father's chest. Even from here, I could see her shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs. My father's face was set hard, but I knew he was trying to keep his tears reigned in.

I turned my attention to Shae, who had pushed her way to the front of her section. Her tiny hands held the barricade in a death grip. Her cheeks were red and stained with tears.

Sabine shoved the microphone at my face, and only then did I realize she had asked me something.

"What?" I muttered dumbly.

"I asked how old you were, dear."

"I'm seventeen," I mumbled.

Sabine took the microphone back and placed her hand on her heart. "And how lovely you are, my dear."

She turned back to the audience, clapping her hands. "Now for the gentleman." She glided over to the bowl that held the boys' names. She repeated the same swirling hand movements around the glass until she snatched up a slip of paper.

She cleared her throat before reading the name. "Hector May!"

A gasp rang out among the crowd, and even me in my numbed state lifted my eyes in surprise. Hector May was Mayor Walim May's son. Of course, being the child of the mayor didn't exclude you from the reaping, but they were rarely chosen. That's why everyone had started to murmur amongst themselves as Hector slowly made his way up to the stage.

He looked behind him at his father. The mayor tried not to show any emotion at his son being reaped, but I saw how his jaw clenched and his hands began to subtly shake in his lap.

"What an interesting turn of events!" Sabine exclaimed. "How old are you, dearie?"

"Eighteen." Hector answered in a deep monotone voice.

"And you're the mayor's son, correct?"

"Yes."

Sabine laughed almost giddily. "What a wonderful pair we have here." She motioned for us to shake hands. We both moved forward and grasped the other's hand as Sabine addressed the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure of presenting to you your District four tributes for the 70th annual Hunger Games!"

━

We were marched in silence down a long hallway, escorted by a couple of stern-faced peacekeepers. Hector and I were taken to separate rooms, mine with harsh fluorescent lights that cast everything in a painful brightness. The stark and sterile air felt suffocating as I helplessly waited for what was next. I shifted nervously on the hardwood chair, tracing small circles onto its smooth surface while my leg anxiously bounced up and down. Even pinching myself couldn't make this nightmare go away. My throat tightened in despair while tears stung my eyes.

A creak of the door handle made me jump, and I scrambled to my feet. My parents and Shae entered the room, their faces blurry with emotion. We raced towards each other, a tangle of limbs that collapsed into a heap on the floor. Someone was sniffling, and it took me a moment to realize it was me.

My father wiped the tears off my face and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Everything will be alright." He stated calmly like there was nothing to worry about.

I looked at him in disbelief. "Dad, how can you say that?"

He sighed. "I know you're scared, sweetie. But you can't let your fear control you. You're going to be fine because you're going to win."

"How? I can't–" I couldn't even finish my sentence. How could my father be so sure, so calm?

"Lyssa." My mother said, clearing the tears from her eyes. "Your father is right. I know you're scared, but you can't think about that right now."

"What do I do?" I asked helplessly.

My father was the one to answer. "Find a weapon that fits you. One that's easy for you to use but effective. Try throwing knives. You were always good with those."

"Okay." I nodded along with him.

"You have to come back, Lyssa." Shae blurted out.

I looked down at her small frame and immediately drew her to me. "I promise I will try my hardest." I said into her hair. My lips connected with the top of her head as her arms tightened around me.

The door opened again, and the peacekeepers came in. "Time's up." One of them said.

We hugged each other one last time before one of the peacekeepers escorted them out. They all called their last farewells as they were moved out of my view.

"Be brave, Lyssa! Remember what I said!"

"Win, so you come back home!"

"We love you, sweetheart!"

There was one peacekeeper left in the room with me. "It's time to board the train, Miss Monroe," he said.

I nodded and hesitantly followed him out into the hallway, where Sabine and Hector stood waiting.

"Now then, you're both very excited, I'm sure, so let's hurry along. The Capitol awaits!" Sabine sang, genuinely excited, with a smile plastered on her face. I tried to tell myself it was just because she was from the Capitol and didn't really know any better. Though, as she led a silent Hector and I away, I couldn't help but feel disgust towards her. She was voluntarily escorting us to our deaths.

My face remained blank as we boarded the train. The odds were never on my side, and they never would be. 

Let me know in the comments if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this story! <3

#ˏ*ೃ➵violent delights #the hunger games #finnick odair #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair x reader #thg #thg fanfiction #fanfiction #finnick odair fanfic #thg finnick #thg series #the hunger games catching fire #the hunger games mockingjay #friends to lovers #mentor x mentee #slow burn

[princess-of-the-corner]

Sorry, just discovered your public knowledge au, its hilarious. I think 'realistically' I like the Only Miraculous wielders & whoever they tell knows version as it could feel a bit less cracky though it'd still beg why they don't bring other heroes in to collectively stomp Gabriel as they know his location. Though that just has me imagining him palming it off on his various rich friends like a hot potato. Anyway two main thoughts:

`1: For the just Holders know AU, Gabriel owns up to his motives right away & almost convinces the kids. Except Fu shows up & reveals that its basically a monkeys paw and more people will die if he makes is wish. Gabriel insists he s smart enough to work around that (He also just doesn't care) but Tikki & Plagg are like, "Literally we have no control over this, it goes to shit every single time, sorry."

In essence, its his ego and control freak nature that mean Gabriel refuses to give up even when he and everyone else know he should quit. Its probably kind of a sad/rough start for Adrien especially, but also leads to very quick positive vibes with Marinette & more direct mentorship.

2: Rogercop be like

Chloe: Well, seeing as you won't do your damn job, how about our classes two super heroes show you up? Adrien: I am one hundred percent down for that except I can't find Plagg! Marinette: Ya know I've wanted to try this anyway, Luck Charm! (Gets a Plagg doll with his head snuck in the bracelet) Well that answers that.

Later

Tikki: How did you even get stuck we can phase through soli matter.., Oh this is interesting and maybe concerning. Chloe: What can it do magic, is it a Miraculous? Plagg: Well its tied to a Miraculous, where'd you find this?

Chloe: Back of my mothers cupboard? Andre: You aren't meant to have that (Tries to snatch) Chloe: Why, what is it!? Can it do magic?

Andre: If by magic you mean mind control you- don't break it you'll explode! Chloe: Why do you own a mind controlling bracelet that only works on me and kills me if it breaks and why was it in a fucking dust covered pile of half forgotten trash!? Andre: ... Its your mot- Gabriel's fault, blame him, now I have a meeting to get to bye! (Runs away)

Butterflies appear Adrien: Dad, glad you could... Make it. Gabriel: Well I am here now, also the Amok's treatment is very much 'not' my fault, it is like that because your parents don't love you.

Adrien: DAD! Gabriel: I am a magical empath son, I know it to be true, your mother and I were much more careful with your Amok & sealed it away so it could never be used against you or damaged. Those two tossed it in a cupboard once they realized it couldn't just rewrite a babies personality, or any personality, to not need things like food or affection, if they hadn't already made the announcement they'd have probably smashed it or given it away. Gabriel: By it I mean Chloe.

Chloe: Oh... (Uses the Amok to turn herself 'off' IE pass out) Gabriel: Dammit, I was hoping the truth would cause her to explode in a rage never before seen and become my most powerful Akuma! I can't even use this self destructive self loathing, she's too depressed to even transform! (Leaves)

Honestly this started out kind of funny then I made myself sad.

Gabriel: I wonder if I should mention the sister they had made as a replacement. That one didn't turn out how they wanted either but they did skip the baby phase.

GOD the chaos there.

But also yeah the AU is mostly crack because tbh I can't see an identity reveal happening that doens't immediately lead to an ending one way or another.

But also OOF.

#public knowledge au

[hellishere7980]

Whatever It Takes (CH-3)

“Master Bruce, in quite a lot of cases, you have not been ready for something yet, you took it on beautifully. Some mistakes did happen, but your imperfection is a part of you. I believe you'll know what to do with Damian and how to do it. You both are more similar than you think.”

“I'm not just talking about Damian, Alfred. That girl, Mariam. My daughter.” He said, gesturing towards the blank screen off the Batcomputer.

“I meant it in both cases, Master Bruce.”

Bruce sighed.

“It will be better in the morning.” Alfred said, gently directing Bruce out of the Batcave.

“Good night, Alfred.”

“You too, Master Bruce.” Alfred replied, gently turning off the main lights of the Batcave, leaving the softly humming machines in partial darkness.

Bruce shifted on his pillow his hand reaching out blindly to shut off the alarm clock. Soon the annoying ringing stopped and his muscles started losing the tension in them. Normally, Alfred would come and knock on the door, effectively waking Bruce up. But last night, before he went to bed, he set up the alarm purposefully so that he could have some time to actually process all that happened last night.

Okay. Bruce thought. I apparently have two kids. Their mother is Talia. They have grown up in the League of Assassins. That gir-Mariam most probably treated as horribly as Talia had been by Ra's Al Ghul, and Damian must have been treated like me when I was in that demon’s good books as his potential heir. Okay, Lot to unpack. I can't even decide how to treat them because I don't know if this assumption is true. Well, Bruce thought, getting out of bed. The only way to find out is to actually talk to him.

He went about dressing up for the day with a turtleneck sweater and some slacks. He called up his secretary, (If there are any gods up there, bless that guy who put up with him) and told him that he won't be able to make it today.

He got out of his room and was walking down the corridor towards Damian's guest room. He made a mental note to make sure he has an actual room if he is going to stay here. He turned around the corner to see Alfred about to knock Damian's door in order to get him up.

“Alfred!” He whisper-yelled.

The man in question turned around and raised an eyebrow.

“I was thinking I could get him up.” Bruce said as soon as he came within normal hearing range of Alfred.

“Good morning to you too, Master Bruce.”

“Sorry- Good morning, Alfred.”

Alfred just gave him a smile. “You see, Master Bruce? I told you that you would do what's best.” He turned around towards Tim and Dick’s rooms. “Be sure to come down with the Young Master in 20 minutes for breakfast.”

Bruce hummed in response and slowly opened the door. He saw that the boy had thrown off his sheets and was curled up in the bed.

“Damian?” Bruce hesitantly asked.

The lump on the bed shot up the dagger in front of him in perfect stance. Bruce put his hands up. They both stayed still in that position for 10 seconds before Damian lowered the dagger. “Sorry, Father.”

“No-no, it's all right. Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“I slept well.”

“Good. How about you change and we go down for breakfast?”

“Very well.”

Bruce smiled and turned around. Damian saw him hesitating for a second before Bruce gave him a soft smile and walked out of the room.

Damien scanned his surroundings before slouching back into the bed. I am at my father's house. I am safe here. I am at my father's house. I am safe here. I am at my father's house. I am safe here. He chanted back to himself willing his heart to slow down. He looked out of the window to see the Manor gardens. Mother had always claimed that those were quite pretty, maintained by his father's dear friend who was also his Butler.

He got out of the bed, and walked over to the closet, which had one pair of clothes in every size. Hmm. He thought. That is actually a practical way. He picked up the pair, which he thought would fit him best, walked into the bathroom, scanned for bugs and then changed. As soon as he opened his bedroom door, he saw Grayson who was comfortably leaning against the wall. As soon as he saw him, he stood up straight and gave him a smile. “Hey, Damian. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Grayson.” Damien replied back.

Dick shot him an amused look. “You can call me Dick.”

“No.” Damian said. “I'm not going to use degrading terms in reference to you. My sister did tell me to play nice, didn't she?”

“Actually, Dick is short for Richard.”

“Still is a derogatory term. However appropriate you may decide it to be in your case.”

They both turned around at the sound of laughing. Tim was laughing and desperately trying to make sure that his coffee didn't spill over. “I–” He said to Damian trying to catch his breath, “I like you.”

“Oh my!” Dick exclaimed dramatically. “Betrayed by my own teammate.”

“Come on, let's go, drama queen.” Tim said, shaking his head. “You're going to make the guy think you're actually a dick.”

After breakfast everyone headed down to the cave to find where Mariam could have gone. Well, at least Bruce and Tim were trying to find out where Mariam had gone. Dick and Damian were sparing after Damian refused to join in the search for his sister stating that it was a useless cause since ‘She has been trained. She knows how to protect herself. And the best thing about her is that she knows how to pick her battles.’

While this display of was enough for Dick and Alfred, Bruce and Tim still insisted on trying to find her. They were all interrupted by the soft rumbling of a car as it pulled into the parking lot of the bat cave. The Three resident bats, feeling a sense of Deja vu, slipped on their domino masks. Dick stood in front of Damian, blocking him from the view of the car by his lean frame. A female figure stepped out from the driver's seat. She stepped ahead and the light revealed her to be Talia.

“Are they here?” She asked, her eyes scanning The Cave.

Dick stood aside and Damian started walking towards his mother. Both mother and son met midway and hugged each other.

Talia whispered into Damian's hair, “You're safe. Oh, thank God–whoever is up there, you're safe.”

After she released Damian, she looked up around. “Where is Mariam?”

Bruce stepped forward towards them. “She took off as soon as she dropped Damian.”

“WHAT?!” Talia screamed. “SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO STAY HERE. WHERE IS SHE?”

Bruce hesitantly began, “We couldn't find her. We're scanning through security cameras. We tried to match number plates. Nothing came up.”

“She wasn't supposed to leave?” Damian asked. His head turned up facing his mother.

“No. This is all wrong. She was supposed to stay here, with you.”

“She left a letter.” Tim said waving the piece of paper in question around.

“Huh?” Talia said.

“Yeah, she left me one too.” Damien piped in.

“Show me.” Talia said while getting up.

Tim handed her the envelope. She slowly opened it up and began to read. The letter was in Arabic.

Dear mother,

#maribat #miraculous lb #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanworks #damian and marinette #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #tim drake #bio dad bruce wayne

[alastxrs]

Greetings, it's the person who asked who you would write to again!! Now that I have your confirmation, could I request a male reader when they are childhood friends with Dottore or Capitano (you can pick one of these two since I’m pretty indecisive lol) where reader is a sunshine sweetheart and the other is grumpy, quiet type, as they found reader annoying at first but still stick around since reader is their only friend, later they became boyfriends!! But then, reader gets into an accident that traumatizes them so the positive aura is no longer as their grumpy partner finally gets to see them again after many years apart and tries their best to get reader healed from their wounds again :]

I tried to be as descriptive as possible, and I hope you have a fantastic day!!

𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞.

El Capitano hasn't seen great sunshine in someone for so long.

The only person he saw as the Sun was Y/N, his lover and childhood best friend who had stayed by his side for so long.

"Why are you still following me?!" Capitano frowned while looking at the smaller boy who just smiled at him.

The boy shrugged, "You seem lonely, I want to be friends with you!" he responded before he held his hand out. "My name is Y/N and I'm gonna be the one to stay by your side."

This kid was annoying but he would just suffer through it. Besides, having someone around was nice.

Capitano and Y/N were inseparable as children after that, their bond forged through endless adventures and mischief. From the moment they met, they knew they were kindred spirits, destined to be the best of friends which had slowly turned into lovers.

As youngsters, they spent their days exploring the winding streets and hidden alleyways of their hometown, their imaginations running wild as they embarked on countless adventures. Whether they were pretending to be pirates searching for buried treasure or daring knights rescuing damsels in distress, Capitano and Y/N were always at the center of the action.

Their friendship was built on a foundation of trust and loyalty, each one willing to go to great lengths to protect the other. They stood by each other through thick and thin, facing whatever challenges came their way with courage and determination.

But it wasn't just their adventures that brought them together; it was also their shared love of laughter and fun. Y/n was known for his infectious grin and mischievous twinkle in his eye, while Capitano had a knack for finding humor in even the most mundane situations.

Together, they were unstoppable, their laughter ringing out like music wherever they went.

The only person who can ever make him laugh.

As they grew older, their bond only grew stronger, transcending time and distance. No matter where life took them, they would always be the best of friends, forever united by the memories of their childhood adventures and the unbreakable bond they shared.

Y/N was his sunshine.

Capitano and Y/N stood under the shade of their favorite tree, the branches swaying gently in the warm breeze as they looked out over the rolling hills beyond. They had been friends for as long as they could remember and lovers for a year now, their bond stronger than anything they had ever known.

As they watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky, Y/N turned to Capitano with a soft smile. "Do you remember when we first met?" the (h/c) haired male asked, his voice filled with nostalgia.

Capitano chuckled, a fond look in his eyes. "How could I forget? You were the one who dared me to climb to the top of that tree," he replied, gesturing to the towering oak behind them. "And when I fell, you were the one who bandaged up my scraped knee."

Y/N smiled at the memory, reaching out to gently squeeze Capitano's hand. "We've been through so much together," he said, his voice tinged with emotion. "And no matter what happens, I want us to always stay together."

Capitano nodded, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I promise," he said, his voice soft but firm. "No matter where life takes us, we'll always find our way back to each other. We're a team, you and me, forever and always."

With that, they sealed their promise with a solemn handshake and a kiss, their hearts filled with the certainty that their relationship would withstand the test of time. And as they stood side by side, watching the sun dip below the horizon, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, as they had always done.

Yet, of course, the times changed.

The sunshine in someone can get destroyed when life decides that those with sun in them need to get destroyed.

Capitano wished he had been there to save his lover; the only person who supported him for becoming a fatui.

Except he couldn't even save him.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He rushed over to his fallen lover and he quickly took his mask off before he kneeled in front of his partner. Who had beaten his lover? There was not anyone around who would dare touch him knowing who the fatui member was.

His (E/C) colored eyes opened to stare at the bigger male, his lover usually smiled whenever he came home.

Now only stood a painful sad look on the smaller male's face.

Y/N leaned into his lover as he sighed, "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough...I promise I'll get stronger." he spoke softly.

That had been the last time he saw his partner and of course the grumpy man missed his sunshine lover with all of his heart, he just needed to give space and he knew Y/N would come back to him.

The (h/c) haired man would come back stronger.

He did leave his smaller lover with a few things while he would be gone and he would stay in the frozen wasteland.

Capitano closed his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee slowly starting to doze off. He could only let his guard down when he felt safe or was with his partner, those days were rare.

It was boring without his sunshine.

They wrote to each other everyday but it wasn't the same as when they were together, he hoped the other person came back soon.

And just as he started thinking about Y/N, hands were on his shoulders gently rubbing them.

Of course, he thought it was his imagination because some days he dreamed of his partner next to him but the other usually never spoke.

"Missed me that badly enough that you still think I'm not here?"

That made his eyes widen and he quickly turned around to see the smaller male who smiled a bit at him. His heart was racing as he reached and gently caressed the other's cheek.

Y/N leaned into the giant hand as he moved one hand on top of his. "Yes, I'm actually here." he hummed as he looked at him. "I won't leave you that long again I promise."

Capitano still couldn't find his voice as he was lost in thought for a second.

Yet, of course, his lover was patient with him.

Finally, he leaned forward to kiss the other man on the lips and pulled the shorter man closer to him to keep him close. Y/N kissed back and wrapped his around the bigger man's neck as they pressed against each other.

It lead to them going to the bedroom and for them to throw clothes off of them.

Years without intimacy was fine for the two yet they just craved feeling each other's skin against each others.

They didn't care about having sex and that was not something they were going to jump straight into. They just wanted to feel the scars that were placed on each other's body, show each other bodies gentle touching and care.

Nobody was to disturb them.

They wanted time alone and that was fine.

Capitano would take care of Y/N for as long as possible.

For he had his Sunshine back.

#genshin impact #x male reader #capitano #capitano x reader #capitano x male reader #no smut #there is gentle touching #traveler #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader

[monstersinthecosmos]

Okay I don’t want this to be like an obnoxious millennial assumption because I’m positive that every generation has things like this, but the way autism and ADHD was treated for us in the 90’s and how it affects adult diagnoses is like, imo, so integral to our coming of age and the stories we tell and the way we’ve gotten to know ourselves, even the way it relates to our job market and economy and how we operate inside it, and especially the way a pandemic uncovered it for so many people and exposed the cracks and revealed that we were all just barely functioning and held together with popsicle sticks and anyway

I say that because maybe it’s the un-diagnosed 90’s child in me but I feel particularly emotional about Keith’s arc in learning that he’s part Galra, and the way even the creators said they made him sort of prickly because of his biology, and I just !! Think so much about Keith’s neurotype as a part Galra!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cause something about being diagnosed later in life is like, looking back at all the other ways you tried to handle yourself, all the missteps, maybe even misdiagnoses. Like, how many times did you try to treat ANXIETY without realizing you didn’t have an anxiety disorder, you just can’t deal with your family blaring the TV from the next room? How many times were you told you were lazy, or lying, when you didn’t know what executive dysfunction is? 

Keith is such a lovely rich character because his prickliness is EARNED—we know what happened to him, we know he’s traumatized, we know he’s been treated poorly by many people in his life. We know that he grew up thinking that he’d been abandoned by one of the people who should’ve loved him the most, in the whole world. He even questions that in his vlog—he makes the connection that he has trouble with people because of his mom. 

But I just wonder like, how much of it is just his biology. Not understanding the body he’s in, being completely ignorant of one whole half of his culture. Had he ever mutated before the TBP fight? Did it take him by surprise, did it frighten him? ((* This is head canon territory LMAO there’s no way to really know—like, is he able to do this because he just spent so much time with Krolia, or does Shiro going That’s the Keith I remember mean they used to have really primal sex that turned his eyes yellow? Lol)) 

Like when we talk about even the most broad generic terms of saying someone is neurodivergent, we don't even need to put a real life label on Keith. Like he's literally not human! Of course his brain looks different! Of course he functions differently! And I wonder how much is nature v nurture -- if he knew the truth about his mom, if his dad had lived, if he'd been allowed a normal childhood, would he still have been a weird kid?

Cause like, even seeing the way Shiro is able to get through to him, we see ways that he allowed for thrill seeking, and he didn't judge Keith for stealing his car. It reminds me of like, what we know now about asking children to sit still in school, and how perhaps some children would do better with standing desks. Shiro wants him to behave and succeed, and doesn't judge him for being a car thief, and gets through to him by bringing him cliff diving. And it just feels like this clue, you know, that nothing is wrong with Keith, he's just living in a weird place where people don't get him.

It’s just really special to me, because there’s so many pieces in the sequence of events of Keith’s character arc, and I know I’ve said this a handful of times now, but I really sincerely believe it’s the only thing the show really nailed. Accepting himself during the BOM Trial -> MOMENTS later learning something ver important about his biology -> spending time with Krolia -> coming back to pilot Black when he’s READY and WANTS to (unlike the first time, when he resisted) -> becoming a pragmatic strong leader by the end.

Gosh idk. 

I don’t really have anywhere to go with this, it’s just something I was thinking about today and it gets me real emotional. Like, Keith must have had these moments, re-evaluating who he’d been before he’d known, finally understanding why he was Like That, and it’s so healing to imagine him accepting his past self and forgiving it because he understands now. 

#hes just a lil baby #keith kogane #sheith #SPACE MAN META #i watched the lion king this morning and cried my eyes out and it got me so upset about keith LMFAO

[pastel0rchid]

Serendipity (2)

Din Djarin x Modern!F!Reader

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: Minor talk of injuries, one curse word, being picked up

A/N: This story does start off in Mando's POV, but when you see "---", that means that the POV changes back to normal. Thank you to everyone who supported the first chapter! Until next time my friends! <3

Previous Chapter .~.~. Next Chapter

The Mandalorian watches the woman holding the Child collapse due to the bullet to her shoulder, his blaster still aimed towards the group of three that were chasing after her. Once the shot was clear, he disposed of them quickly before they could even think of training their blasters on him. Their bodies fall to the ground in satisfying thuds.

The crowd around them grows as they begin to trickle in from the sound of the blaster fire, whispering amongst themselves at the carnage that had just unfolded. Mando knew he needed to get himself and the Child out of there… fast.

He rushes towards the woman as she goes unconscious. From the pain or blood loss, he wasn’t sure. The Child was still wrapped tightly in her arms and positioned in a way that his head was cushioned during the fall, even at the expense of her shoulder wound (which was seeping out blood and quickly beginning to pool around her).

The Child looked up at her with a worried look, his hands reaching up as far as they could and tugging on the collar of the long-sleeve she was wearing, soft whines leaving him in his own way of trying to wake her up.

“Kid. We gotta go.”

He reaches down to pull the Child from the unconscious woman’s grasp, only to be met with the Child’s whines rising in volume and his little claws digging deeper into the collar of her shirt. He had never seen the kid act like this with anyone before. Not with Cara or Peli, or even with himself.

With the crowd increasing and the threat of guards or other bounty hunters coming to investigate, he didn’t have the time to try and pry the Child from the woman. He sighs deeply at this realization and decides to take the woman with them instead of struggling with the kid.

He would just drop her off at the next skug hole planet he could find.

He places his arms under her knees and around her back, carrying her bridal style with the kid still against her chest. He looks around at the crowd, who start gasping and pointing at him. He quickly finds a small gap to run through and heads back towards the Crest.

What was supposed to be a quick stop to gain more supplies had turned into this… and The Mandalorian didn’t enjoy it one bit.

—

You jolt awake with a sharp gasp, your body trying to sit up only to tense and groan at the sharp pain that shoots through your shoulder. Your body lays back down onto the soft material you had been lying on with a soft grunt.

You expect to find yourself back in your living room, having slept wrong on your shoulder, and that’s what caused your shoulder to throb in pain. You expect your mother to ask why you woke up with a pained gasp and your father teasing you about falling asleep during the movie.

The metal walls surrounding you in the small space you had been placed in and the only sound being the rumbling of an engine quickly proved you wrong.

As you lay there silently, your mind running in circles to figure out what was happening, you finally noticed the small bundle curling up beside you.

You maneuver your head to get a better look at whatever was lying beside you, finding that it was the child. His eyes were closed, and his ears drooped in his sleep. Soft sounds came from him as his little hand gripped the shirt that you were wearing.

Wait… you weren’t wearing a shirt earlier… you had been wearing a sweatshirt…

The black material of the shirt was coarse against your skin and a bit too big for you, hanging ever so slightly off your shoulder. Thankfully, though, you still seemed to be wearing your sweatpants.

Your racing heart thunders in your ears as your hands explore the sensation of the shirt placed upon you. You cringe when your fingers run over the wound on your right shoulder, feeling the rough bandage material even through the shirt.

The feeling proved to you once again that you weren’t dreaming.

The silence in the room continues for a few more minutes before the door to the room slides open, the sudden sound causing you to jump. Your shoulder throbs at the harsh movement, and you hiss out in pain.

The Mandalorian looms in the doorway with his thumbs positioned in the loops of his belt, his helmet tilted down to look at you. Your gazes remain locked, at least you believe so with the way the visor of his helmet is directed at you before he gives a small ‘hmph’ as a way to start the conversation.

“Your shoulder was bleeding pretty bad.” His voice was monotone, and you couldn’t help but compare it to how he sounded on the show, even though your heart was still racing at his unexpected appearance. Your eyes remain on him as he slightly adjusts his position to lean against the doorframe, his visor now directed at the Child who was beginning to stir against your side at the noises.

“The kid wouldn’t let go of you… couldn’t take the chance of us getting caught.”

You remain silent, your mind still reeling on the fact that the Mandalorian and the Child were real, that you had been shot in the shoulder, and you were nowhere near home. A sudden wave of hot tears fills your eyes at not only the pain that still throbbed in your shoulder but at the realization that you wouldn’t see your family.

The Mandalorian visibly tenses at the sight of your watery eyes, clearly not knowing how to deal with this situation.

“Listen, I have a job I need to do. Then, I can drop you off at whatever planet you want.” His voice was slightly apprehensive, trying to sound as soothing as the modulator in his helmet would allow him to.

Placing your hands onto the bed, you slowly begin to force yourself into a sitting position, grimacing as your shoulder sends a sharp stab of pain through your nerves. You couldn’t tell him the truth. Trying to explain that you weren’t originally from this universe and that he was just a character where you were from?

You knew he wouldn’t believe you. He’d probably think you were crazy.

You honestly think you’re going crazy.

Looking back over at him, you find that he’d straightened his posture when you began to sit up and now notice that something was in his hands. The Child suddenly coos at your side, your gaze snapping down to find his little body moving from a laying position into a sitting one. His round eyes stare up at you before crawling into your lap.

“He would cry if I tried to move him away from you,” The Mandalorian suddenly says while observing the scene before him, “Why is he so attached to you?”

At his question, you quickly hear the sharp tone of protection in his voice, and you understand why. A strange woman whom they’ve never met before and the Child is suddenly drawn to be with her all the time? It’d strike you as odd, maybe even concerning.

Keeping your gaze on the little baby in your lap, you bring up your left hand to wipe away the tears in your eyes. A concerned sound comes from the child as he reaches a hand up towards your face. You lean down to his touch, his little claws gently running over your cheek as his dark eyes take in your features.

When his hand connects with your cheek, a warm wave of calm and a hint of worry washes over you.

Your eyes glance up to the Mandalorian, whose visor was trained on you, and his grip on the box tightening as if he were waiting for an attack.

“I don’t know.”

You cringe at how meek your voice sounded and the mini crack that happened when you spoke. You clear your throat, realizing how dry it felt from unuse. You silently wonder how long you’d been out.

“He came up to me in the market, I just-” “How did you know he was with me? I was nowhere near you when he disappeared from my side.”

He interrupts you, his modulated voice becoming harsher, and you feel like you are in an interrogation. You definitely were based on everything that had happened.

Your heart begins to beat wildly in your chest at his tone. He was a bounty hunter. You knew that he would figure out if you tried to lie. You sit up straight, the child in your lap looking between you and the Mandalorian with a little frown on his lips.

“I…” You take a deep but shaky breath as your mind spins to try and figure out what to say, “I’m not after him, I promise.”

Really? That was the best you could come up with? You quickly try to fix the mounting questions probably built in the Mandalorian’s brain at your words.

“Mando, I’m not a threat to you or the child. I-”

You’re interrupted by a sudden beeping from elsewhere, the Mandalorian looking behind him towards the source before training his visor back on you. He steps forward, his stature imposing in the confined space as he grabs your left arm.

“I’m not leaving you alone down here.”

That is all he says before he carefully forces you to stand, grabbing the child from your lap and holding him in his other arm. The child looks between the two of you again as Mando begins to drag you over towards a ladder. You could hear the door of wherever you had been shut behind you. Your right shoulder throbs a bit, and your legs detest the sudden movement after lying down for so long.

His visor looks between the ladder and you, his focus mainly on your shoulder. Wherever this ladder led was where the beeping sound was coming from. Without a word, he points a finger at you and then at the floor, a direct order to stay put before he ascends the ladder with the child.

Confusion etches across your face as you watch him disappear for a few seconds, the sounds of rummaging around happening above you before he reappears and descends the ladder. The child was no longer in his arms.

The beeping continues, the sound starting to become an annoyance to you.

Silently, the Mandalorian picks you up before climbing the ladder with you in his arms. The shock of suddenly being picked up causes you to grip the shirt under the shoulder pads of his armor, a soft gasp escaping your lips. His show of strength causes fear and a twinge of something else to shoot through your veins. It was almost effortless to him.

“I can climb by myself!”

“You’d be slow. We don’t have time for slow.”

His words shut you up. Your eyes are wide as they stare up at him as he climbs into a familiar place. You have seen this on the show. It was where all the flight controls were, but you couldn’t remember the name of it.

Your dad had told you once before.

The Mandalorian sits you in one of the chairs, the baby already buckled in another. Your eyes are filled with wonder as you look around at the different gadgets and gizmos. Now you understand why the Child kept wanting to flick the buttons.

After sitting in the pilot's chair, the Mandalorian hits a few buttons on the control panel. Your eyes finally look out of the main window, first noticing the vast amount of space that you are in. After giving yourself time to take in the sights of the stars, your gaze is drawn to where the ship is heading.

Your heart stops for a second.

You know what this place is. It was at the beginning of episode 6. The last episode you watched with your dad before ending up here. This was the episode where Mando gets betrayed at the prison.

Fuck, you were smack dab in the middle of season 1, and you had half a mind to tell Mando to turn his armor-covered butt around.

But the ship had already landed by the time the realization set in.

Taglist: @aheadfullofsteverogers @amyg1509

#reader insert #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction