#but like. HE doesn't know if its to help her or to keep the nurse close so he can eventually kill her

[luveline]

Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.” 

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.” 

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.” 

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself. 

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag. 

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?” 

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.” 

“Did you call them?” 

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden. 

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull. 

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks. 

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top. 

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ? 

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly. 

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.” 

“We really don’t have time to waste.” 

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!” 

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.” 

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed. 

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.” 

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.” 

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?” 

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask. 

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.” 

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick. 

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth. 

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut. 

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?” 

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.” 

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?” 

“No,” you say apologetically. 

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.” 

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?” 

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.” 

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.” 

“When was the last time you were below seventy?” 

“Don’t know,” you mumble. 

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?” 

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke. 

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard. 

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her. 

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.” 

“I understand.” 

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.” 

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble. 

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.” 

“What do I get in return?” 

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[thenightwolf51]

"Danny was born a Wayne" AU except he's Bruce's grand uncle. The result of a one time drunken affair, shortly before Kenneth Wayne's death, to a young unmarried woman who gave the baby up for adoption.

(Whether the Fenton's, and therefore Amity, were just ahead of their times or the DC timeline is shifted a bit so that DP happens in its cannon era is up to you. Dealers choice, though now that i know about her i just love badass widowed prohibition leader Laura Elizabeth Wayne)

Danny grows up knowing hes adopted and loved by the Fentons but something (dealer's choice) happens and he loses his family and friends (maybe the whole town goes too?). In an attempt to avoid a Dan situation he flees into the Infinite Realm and doesn't stop.

He just wanders, time passes in its weird Realms way, not that Danny truly notices. A protector spirit thats lossed everything it protected. Its a wonder he doesn't fade and he actually might've if it wasn't for his human side.

But its a tug at his core that brings him from his near catatonic wandering. Gone before he can even understand it but enough to shake him back to himself. Enough to know that hes nowhere near ready to go anywhere familiar so he continues on, his wandering no less pointless but at least he's aware again.

What feels like a relatively short time later he gets another tug, and this time he manages to follow it.

He follows it invisibly through a natural portal that drops him somewhere in New Jersey and all the way to a fancy hospital room in the gloomiest city he's ever seen.

In there he sees his half brother Patrick Wayne, though he wont figure out their connection for a few more years, holding little Agatha. She's adorable in her little dress and pigtails and her sweet face causes that familiar tug he recognizes from what must have been six years ago given the girls age.

Then a nurse comes in and hands a little bundle to what must be the mother (whos name i cant find) and Danny takes one look at the little core tugger who brought him here and just melts. Even without knowing yet that this is his last remaining family, his instincts latch on and he vows to protect and care for the Waynes.

And he does.

He finds his forgetful brother's documents and keeps Aggy company when everyone else is busy and soothes baby Thomas so his poor sister-in-law can get some more sleep. He ices fevers and bruised knees and helps on later games of hide and seek.

He very rarely becomes visible and only to the children. His grief over the Fenton's convinces him its better to protect his new family from the shadows.

Danny explores every inch of the manor, including secret passages and an underground cave system. He claims a forgotten room in the back of the attic as his own, which over the years fill up with knickknacks, heirlooms, and pictures of the family. Even a gift or two from Agatha, who hadn't stopped believing in their shadowy guardian like her brother did when Danny felt they were too old to see him without drawing suspicion.

The manor becomes his haunt and he always knows where each family member is within it. And when any guests have some no good intentions.

And when baby Bruce is born tugging at his core and with the bluest little eyes, he welcomes the fussy little thing. And makes sure dear Martha never knows just how fussy baby Bruce really is, otherwise she might've never had a full nights sleep.

Danny blames himself for not being there when Thomas and Martha die, and promises to never leave Bruces side, practically becoming the boy's living shadow. Watching over him as he gets older, secretly aiding him in his training. Danny feels a bit of pride when Bruce takes some inspiration from the old stories Thomas told him of the shadowy Wayne family protector when creating his Batman identity, glad his nephew still remembers him even if he hasn't shown himself since the now young man was six.

Danny continues to protect and care for the family in a variety of ways over the years even as the family grows.

Lightening Alfred's workload, softening Dick's falls, calming Jason's temper both pre and post pit, hiding Tim's coffee when the boy hasn't slept in far too long, providing plenty of shadows and hiding nooks for Cass, helping Damian hide the litter of kittens he found.

And no one seems to know he's there, except maybe Cass and he's pretty sure Alfred has been know since he first started working for the family. No one knows, that is, until Duke Thomas moves in and lookes right at him watching invisibly from the sidelines.

(@omnicrafts @dcxdpdabbles @hdgnj @ailithnight @nelkcats @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 i dont know, the main point of all this is that Danny's been protecting the Wayne family for decades and no one, except maybe Alfred, knew until Duke moved in)

#dpxdc #danny is a Wayne #danny is the wayne family protector spirit #duke can see ghosts #an alternative of this could be the same background but Danny decides to come in as the preCrisis “Uncle Philip” that initially raised Bruc #if so Agatha would definitely vouch for Danny #there's not much on Agatha Wayne but she seems fun

[livelaughlaios]

I think one of the things Dungeon Meshi is definitely about is how different people deal with being an outsider/marginalised/neurodivergent/what have you and basically what im getting at is that Kabru is TEXTBOOK "high functioning [insert diagnosis here]". Its that how they say it still? Don't care.

Basically. This man shows up and you listens to him talk and see how his party treats him and you think. Oh this is a cool guy who has his shit together. And then after like two pages you find out that he has constant flashbacks to Utaya that make him completely freeze, anxiety attacks, thought spirals, is incapable of analyzing his own feelings, is a stuttering mess when the stakes are high, has never done a chore in his life, keeps putting himself in triggering situations and re-traumatising himself, and the icing on the cake is when you read the extra material and it turns out he regularly forgets to eat and lives in a depression nest of dirty clothes and self-medicates insomnia with alcohol and also is 22. Which also kind of puts Misilril not wanting to let him go in another light - yeah for sure she's controlling and infantilising and also its not like she was really helping his issues but also she was not entirely wrong in her judgement. This man does NOT know how to take care of himself. He knows how to do the bare minimum so when he shows up at work the next day he can fool his coworkers into thinking hes got it together enough. For a bit.

He is DEEPLY unwell and he knows it but he is carried by the desperate wish to avoid another catastrophe. If he stops for a moment he KNOWS he'll collapse so he doesn't.

I also think this is why him acting nurse to Mithrun is such an important part of his arc. Its like. This person who has spent all of his adult life focused on a single objective disregarding everything else is faced with what happens when you do that for too long. And the result is a wet tissue of a creature who looks like he doesn't know where he is most of the time.

He is a man on the brink. I have no doubt he felt relieved when he decided he could trust Laios - not even in a Labru way, straight up because he knew he could not keep going like this.

But also like. Of all the characters in the manga, I think Senshi and Kabru are the most lonely ones. Except Senshi seems to be OK with solitude - for sure it's not entirely healthy to be alone for as long as he was but he definitely did well enough. He is very good at taking care of himself. Meanwhile Kabru *knows* a lot of people but can you really say he has friends? Rin, maybe, arguably, but even she does not seem to truly know him, you know? He keeps himself hidden from everyone. I think the only time we see him entirely honest is when he says to Laios that he wanted to be his friend, and hes so shocked when it comes out, you can tell he did not mean to say it. And differently from Senshi, he does NOT fare well alone. He likes people, he needs people. Again compare with Mithrun - he has like a squad of people taking care of him. If Kabru had a breakdown of that size can you say his party would go out of its way to help? Im not sure. Not because they're bad people, but because he's simply not that intimate with any of them.

Idk man it just struck me all of a sudden. Laios is weird and offputting and doesn't care about other humans the way Kabru does and YET he is infinitely more successful at building deep, meaningful relationships and taking care of himself as well. I think this is part of why Kabru is so fascinated with him as well. He can tell Laios has something he doesn't have. Wait this is turning into a whole another post I'll write this next time.

#kabru #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #meta #meowing to myself #this is why ive grown so attached to him i realised. i mean who said that. now if youll excuse me i have to go wash a week worth of dishes

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (6/?)

Part summary: "You like Leigh, and that should be that. It shouldn't stop your world from turning, but it does."

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.520 | Warnings/Tags Unrequited feelings and pining | Author's Note: Thank you so much for the warm reception to this story :) I can't promise that this is the last bump in the road.

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Next part

-

“Thanks for meeting me.”

You came in early, already nursing a Mai Tai, having decided that facing this conversation sober wasn’t an option. The alcohol doesn’t make the situation any less twisted, but it dulls the edge of frustration just enough to keep you seated. 

“Let’s get right to it,” you start, not bothering with pleasantries as you take another swig. “Danny.”

He winces slightly at you calling him by his real name, a telling sign of guilt or maybe just discomfort. It’s hard to tell. “Yeah, about that—”

You're not here for the runaround. Hence, the Mai Tai and the vodka that came before it.

“Look, Nick, or Danny, or whoever you are today. I just need some answers—”

“And I’ll give them to you if you promise me one thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, utterly flabbergasted by his nerve. “I'm not here to make any deals,” you state flatly. “I'm here for answers that I believe Matt owes me. And since he’s dead,” you say, not shying away from stating the grim reality in his face, “and you're in on Matt's little game, you owe me too.”

Danny looks like he doesn't want to challenge you on that; in fact, he looks downright worried.

“Please,” he implores. “This is important to me.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. Why is he suddenly acting like a dog with its tail tucked between his quivering legs?

“Okay, what is it?” you ask, signaling the bartender for another drink. Danny orders a drink for himself—a shot of whiskey. That's when you realize things are likely to get even crazier for you before they start to improve.

“It’s Leigh,” Danny says, and something in the way he mentions her name lets you know he's sincere about how important this is to him. “She doesn't know the half of it. She doesn't know I’m Nick, or that I helped Matt to... to be with you.”

You blink several times, rapidly, trying to clear the little haze in your head because you can’t believe what you’re hearing. He's asking you to keep a secret. 

After he lied to you.

“And what, if I tell her you pretended to be someone else and helped her husband cheat on her, then what? She's—” you stop mid-sentence, the pieces suddenly clicking together in your mind. Danny doesn't want you to rat him out for being Nick, about his direct involvement in Matt's cheating, because he's… with Leigh? 

They’re together?

As if he's tuned into your thoughts, Danny confirms your hunch. “I love Leigh. I think I always have. And if you tell her this, it's going to be the end of us.”

The first thing you feel is this urge to be all possessive about Leigh, coalesced with a sour taste in your mouth knowing someone else got there first. Except, you know Leigh would never look at you like that. So, it embitters you even more admitting you shouldn't be feeling this way at all.

You take a long sip of your newly arrived drink, buying time to think. Telling Leigh is supposedly the right thing to do, but it could also destroy whatever happiness she's found with Danny.

But is she though? Is she happy with Danny? 

“So let me get this straight,” you say, the alcohol lending you a blunt courage. “You orchestrated this whole scenario—Matt meeting someone else—just so you could break him and Leigh up? You love her so much you'd do that to your friend?”

Danny looks even more defeated—as he should when he reveals, “Matt's not just some friend. He's my brother.”

You're midway through a sip of water when the words hit you, and you nearly choke on it, barely stopping yourself from spitting the water out.

“You’re despicable! And to think that—”

“But I didn’t orchestrate anything, okay? Do you think I’m some kind of god, picking you randomly to throw at Matt? You guys really met and fell for each other by chance. I had nothing to do with both of your feelings.”

You scoff, incredulous. There's no way you're going to believe anything he says next. You just can't.

“So, your big plan was what? Just to hang back and hope to catch Leigh on the rebound?” you say defiantly. 

The look he gives you, and the fact that he’s not outright denying it—

“Look,” he drones, raising a hand as if to temper your barrage of questions. “There was no plan, all right? Matt met you, and he just couldn't shake you off his mind. It was all him. And yeah, it was merely chance he saw you again, going into your clinic that afternoon. He told me about it, and I went with him to talk to you because he asked me to. I was just as thrown when he introduced me as ‘Nick’.”

You're skeptical, to say the least. “Why would Matt do that? Why go through all that trouble?”

Danny shrugs. “I’m not sure, but I went along with it. Probably because deep down, Matt knew what he was doing wasn’t right. Maybe he felt guilty, or maybe he wanted to be someone else in that moment, someone who wasn't Matt Greer with a brother named Danny, who was at his wedding to Leigh Shaw. I don’t know. I mean, I know my brother, but that doesn’t mean I understand all his reasons.”

A sick part of you can't help but feel less sorry about Matt's demise. It's a disgusting thought, harboring anything less than sympathy for someone who's gone, yet you can’t feel anything but enmity for being duped. Not just by one, but two people who played you for a fool.

“God, what a mess,” you mutter, shaking your head. No amount of alcohol could’ve prepared you for this. 

And then another thought occurs to you.

“You were the one who told Leigh about me and Matt, weren't you?”

Danny doesn't respond immediately, his gaze dropping to his lap. 

“And you did it... to get Leigh for yourself. To make her hate Matt, hoping she'd turn to you,” you piece it together, one after another.

“No,” he counters quickly. You smirk into your cocktail, as if you've just heard the punchline of a joke.

Danny looks up, his dark eyes earnest, almost pleading for you to understand. “I didn't tell Leigh about you and Matt because I wanted to ‘have’ her. That... that wasn't it. That thought came much later, and honestly, only after Leigh started... showing interest in me. I never pursued her, not after Matt died. I kept my distance, respected her grief. I loved her quietly, without ever letting on.”

You look away, knowing a thing or two about loving someone in the shadows.

“I told Leigh because if she was going to mourn Matt, she deserved to know the full truth about who she was mourning. Matt wasn't just the loving husband she thought he was, and she had the right to know that,” he finishes.

You shake your head, dismissing his attempt to appear noble by betraying his own brother and tarnishing Leigh's memory of him. It just doesn't sit right to you, using someone's absence to get ahead. Matt's not here to tell his side, to explain things. His only defense being crumbs of himself he left behind like those texts Leigh stumbled upon on Danny's phone.

With a tad of vendetta in your words, you turn Danny’s reasoning against him. 

“Then Leigh deserves to know about you too. About how you were a willing participant in Matt’s deception and helped him pull one over on her,” you tell him, not missing the shock that flickers across his face. “She deserves the truth if she’s going to be with you. Not just your cleaned-up version where you come out looking like the good guy.”

Danny's face goes a shade paler, and for a second, he looks like he's about to argue, but then nothing. He just sits there, kind of deflated, like he's finally realizing the predicament he's in isn't just going to disappear.

You've had enough of his excuses and signal the bartender for the bill. As you pull out your wallet, Danny finds a bit of his backbone again.

“It'll be your word against mine,” he laments, twirling the ice in his glass leisurely. “Me and Leigh, we've known each other for years. Who do you think she'll believe? Because from what I understand, Leigh caught you in a lie too. She doesn't trust you. So good luck trying to ruin our happiness just because you can.”

His challenge makes you bristle, but you square your shoulders, meeting his gaze dead-on. “Do you think Leigh loved Matt?” you ask. 

Danny looks momentarily unsettled by your question, as if it's the last thing he expected from you. But then, without hesitation, he answers, “Yes.”

“Yeah, she would've stuck by Matt, even knowing everything,” Danny continues. “She'd convince him they could start over. Leigh loved... loves Matt so much,” he corrects himself, a bitter smile on his lips as he admits, “I envied my brother for that.”

The bartender slides the bill over, and you hand off your credit card without even a second look, thoroughly pleased with how Danny’s response has played right into your hands. Once you’re done paying for your drinks, you turn back to Danny.

“You latched onto the idea of me and Matt right away, not knowing if I’m going to love Matt the way Leigh loved him, or even more. But you didn’t care,” you say evenly. “All you saw was an opportunity to get the woman for yourself. You’re selfish.”

Danny’s quick to defend himself this time. “You wouldn't say that if you were in my shoes,” he shoots back. “I love both of them. I wanted Matt to be happy, and he wasn't anymore, not with Leigh.”

“And you were more than happy to nudge him away from his wife, thinking that'd fix everything?” you counter sharply.

He squirms in his seat, looking like he’s run out of excuses. He can’t find the words that’ll make you see his side of things. It also dawns on you that he’ll never see your point either.

After a tense silence, he asks, “Are you going to tell Leigh?”

You stand up and let out a heavy sigh. “Honestly? I don't even know if Leigh wants anything to do with me anymore.” Just as you’re about to leave, something compels you to throw Danny a lifeline and you swivel on your heel to give him one last thing to think about.

“If this thing you have with Leigh is real, don’t let her find out about the skeletons in your closet from someone else. It's better coming from you.”

Walking away, you can’t shake off the regret of not taking your own advice, more than you’d normally like to admit.

-

Suzie's been on edge about how you've been acting lately. She's always on the dot with your meals, but you barely give them a glance before packing them up and handing them off to homeless people on the street who need them more. Your days have blurred into a continuous loop at the clinic, skipping breaks, and hovering around even when it's technically Foreman's shift to take the lead.

Today, Suzie's hit her limit watching you mope and brood in your office's corner. Without a word of warning, she marches in with a bottle of red and two glasses. You’re startled, feeling somewhat cornered, as she locks the office door behind her. Ignoring your shock, Suzie starts pouring a generous glass of wine for you, filling it right to the brim.

“Alright, out with it,” she orders, pushing a full glass your way. 

Your gaze sweeps the room, looking for a way out. “Suzie, I don’t think it’s—” Yes, you own the place. But owning it doesn't mean you're about to bend your own rules about drinking on the job.

“Let's drink it out, girlie.” She sets her own glass down, already filled, and takes a seat.  Last time I saw you like this, your team lost the Superbowl. And let's be real, the only other thing that had you this down before was that Matt guy ghosting you.”

You eye the glass of wine, your mouth feeling very dry all of a sudden. “What about the patients waiting outside?”

“Foreman's on it, as long as we save him some for later. I said we would, but let's be honest, this bottle isn't really enough for two,” Suzie says, giving you a wink. 

You let out a sigh, your fingers instinctively inching towards your glass, yet you stop short of actually grabbing it. You're usually the vault, not the one doing the talking. You absorb everyone else's life stories, nod sympathetically, and maybe offer advice on occasion. The only reason Suzie even caught wind of the whole Matt situation is because he made his interest too obvious—showing up at the clinic multiple times with flowers, chocolates, books, and all those little things he discovered you couldn't resist. It wasn't so much you telling her, as it was Matt's grand gestures speaking volumes, making it impossible for anyone, especially Suzie, not to notice.

Taking a deep breath, you realize maybe it's time to open up to someone, to share the absurdity of your situation with someone who might just understand—someone who, at the very least, also likes women.

“Okay, so here's the thing... I've got this weird crush,” you say, letting that sit for a moment, partly because you're still wrapping your head around it, partly because you still can’t believe it. You can't pinpoint exactly when you started tumbling down a rabbit hole from which there was no climbing back out. 

“On Matt's wife.”

Suzie's reaction is as you expected—her eyes go wide, her mouth drops, and the wine glass she's holding almost slips from her grasp. “You what?” she gasps, looking at you like you've grown a second head. “How in the world do you end up falling for your ex's wife?”

You never said anything about falling. But you suppose that's how it looks, given how much you've been out of sorts ever since Leigh called you a liar.

-

Sitting in your car across from Leigh's house, you feel like some sort of stalker. You tell yourself this is a one-off, not a habit you're planning to develop. Though, if you don't catch her tonight, you'll likely be back here tomorrow, or the day after. 

After that wine-fueled heart-to-heart with Suzie, you left the clinic with a buzz and her words echoing inside your head: Just walk up to Leigh and say you were an ass and that you're sorry. And here you are, taking her advice a bit too literally and too soon.

It's getting late, and you've been watching Leigh's front door as if it might sprout legs and run away. You're semi-drunk, definitely not in the best state for making apologies, but Suzie's pep talk has convinced you that you need to do this, and now. “This is a terrible idea,” you mumble to yourself, checking your phone again to see if, by some miracle, Leigh has responded to one of your texts. Still nothing.

Just as you're starting to question your sanity and consider driving home, you finally spot Leigh’s car turning the corner. Your heart starts doing somersaults, threatening to beat its way out of your chest as the car pulls into the driveway. But as the car parks and the door swings open, your hopeful anticipation crashes hard into disappointment. It's not Leigh stepping out onto the curb; it's Jules. So, it's a family car, and today, of all days, you didn't get the driver you were hoping for. 

A headache begins to brew as you scold yourself for even showing up here. “What am I even doing?” you mutter under your breath, rubbing your temples as if that could erase the last few hours. Leigh might be at Danny's for all you know, making this stakeout even more pointless.

In those few seconds of self-berating, you're completely oblivious to Jules spotting you from the sidewalk. So, when she taps on your side of the window, you nearly jump out of your skin, hand shaking as you roll it down to face her.

“Hi,” she says simply. She’s smiling, like she knows something you don’t.

“I'm not a stalker,” you say defensively. “I'm just…” An idiot.

You weren’t aware you said the last part aloud until Jules chuckles. “Well, at least you’re an honest idiot. You waiting for Leigh?”

“I was, but... I'll just go,” you stammer, ready to make a retreat and save what little dignity you have left.

“You won't get anywhere far on those flat tires though,” Jules comments offhandedly, nodding towards the back of your car.

“Flat tires?”

You quickly unbuckle your seatbelt to check. Sure enough, when you step out and circle to the back, both of your rear tires are depressingly flat, deflated against the pavement. 

“Great,” you groan, raking your fingers through your hair and tugging in frustration. “Just my luck.”

You’re not drunk enough to find the situation funny, nor sober enough to deal with flat tires.

“Maybe you should call a tow or something and wait inside the house until they get here,” Jules suggests. 

“My phone’s dead,” you say in response.

“No problem, I can call them for you.”

You're chewing over the thought, when your stomach decides to join the conversation with a loud rumble. 

Jules grins and adds, “Plus, I've got pizza.” The thought of waiting it out with the comfort of food suddenly makes the idea of intruding a lot less unappealing.

-

“Why do you even like my sister?”

You're mid-bite on your first slice when Jules launches that question out of the blue and you nearly choke on your own spit. Crumbs dust your fingers as you set the slice down, buying yourself a moment to think. It's not like you've never asked yourself the same question. It's just that the answer doesn't make any more sense to you either.

“She, uh, has a way of making an impression. Mostly, I appreciate her candor—”

“You find her bitchiness… endearing?” 

You’re stunned by the way she frames it, but it also makes you smile, recognizing the blunt honesty in her words—something that apparently runs in the family. You guess Jules could say that. Leigh’s sour attitude offended you one time, and then you heard her laugh and saw her smile, and it’s as if the sun never set for you. 

“Her... directness is refreshing. In a world full of people trying to sugarcoat everything, Leigh just says it like it is. And yes, it can come off a bit strong, but there's something genuine about it. Plus, she's incredibly passionate about what she believes in. She has this authenticity that’s rare to find nowadays.”

Formidable. You think of the perfect adjective to describe it a tad too late, but you keep it to yourself, thinking you’ve gushed enough about her sister.

“Is that the alcohol talking or do you like, like Leigh?”

It's one thing to harbor a secret crush, quite another to have it recognized and named by someone else, especially Leigh's family. “I don’t—”

“I thought I caught a whiff of red on your breath out there on the street. Here, drink more water,” Jules says, pouring you a tall glass. “I’d offer you a beer but we stopped having those around here because I’m seven months sober.”

“Oh. Congratulations,” you say.

“Thanks.”

She seems to have moved on from her question, getting busy on her phone a moment later, but you haven't, and it leaves you feeling spotlighted in a way you weren't prepared for. “I, um…” You're scrambling for the right terms, something to deflect but not deny. Because the more you've denied it, the more your feelings have grown.

Determined to see you continue to squirm at the kitchen bar, Jules starts talking about Leigh almost casually, as though she's discussing something as mundane as the weather.

“You know, Leigh had a girlfriend in college, before Matt, of course. So, you don't have to worry about her not being interested in girls,” she says, her eyes not leaving her phone screen.

“She did?” 

By this time, you're not even sure if Jules is just pulling your leg, and you're baffled as to why she's sharing details about Leigh that Leigh herself probably wouldn't tell you outright.

“Yeah, she was totally into her, just like she was with Matt. Then, out of nowhere just tossed her aside like that,” Jules snaps her fingers, “she completely cut her off. They had been together for two years, and she didn’t shed a single tear over the breakup. So, maybe that's what you should be worrying about,” Jules says, putting her phone facedown on the table. 

The pizza suddenly looks less appetizing as you stew over this. It's one thing to worry about whether Leigh could reciprocate your feelings; it's another to consider that even if she did, there’s the reality that it might not go down the way you hope it would, given the chance. 

You've always been told you're too much of a dreamer to be a doctor. That became even more apparent when they saw you couldn't help but cry alongside pet owners every time a pet didn't make it or when you had to make that tough call for mercy's sake. You've been in relationships before; after all, you're twenty-eight years old. But you've always treated them like free trials, never getting too serious, especially during those times when you couldn't stay in the same zip code for more than a few weeks. Then, the moment you decide it's time to plant roots, your concept of romance skyrockets to something out of a fairy tale, something as grand as the universe conspiring to unite two souls, forever. It’s how it happened for your parents, being each other’s first loves. You figured, the same should happen for you.

You like Leigh, and that should be that. It shouldn't stop your world from turning, but it does.

“Liking Leigh is moot,” you say after some time. “It’s a bad idea from the start.”

Jules tilts her head. “Why is that?”

You let out a sigh, fiddling with the bracelet on your right wrist. “It’s just... there’s something between Leigh and Danny, right? And it doesn’t usually end up with the mistress and the wife together. Besides, Leigh hates me right now. Most obvious reason being that I stole Matt from her before he... before he was gone for good.”

Jules hums thoughtfully. “Sounds like you've been doing a lot of thinking.”

“It's all I've been able to do since I met her,” you say.

Jules glances at the slice of pizza on your plate, now cold and forgotten. “You gonna eat that?” she asks, nodding towards the lonely piece.

You shake your head, sliding the plate her way. “Good,” Jules responds with a grin. “I'll save this slice for Leigh, then.”

Your ears perk up at that. “You’re expecting her home?”

“Yeah, any minute now. She texted a bit ago saying she was on her way. Plus, she's not working too far from here today.”

“Oh? Where's she at?”

Jules is just about to answer when the front door swings open, revealing Leigh as she hurries inside, her eyes quickly finding yours. There's no mistaking it—she's seen your car. She throws you a pointed look as she heads upstairs, her message clear without saying a word. Then, she murmurs a quick, “We'll talk about this later,” to Jules, who simply snorts in response and starts tidying up the dining table.

The sound of Leigh slamming the door prompts you to rise from your chair, but it's clear you have no plan. Should you go after Leigh? It's precisely why you came here, but now, the wine's effects have faded. Your feet are getting cold.

“You're wrong, you know,” Jules drones, her back to you as she wets a towel under the sink. “About Leigh and Danny.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “I think she's with Danny as a form of revenge.”

You stare at her back, confused. “For Matt cheating on her?”

“Exactly. Matt was aware of Danny's feelings for Leigh. I knew about it, Leigh knew, and that's partially why she had such a strong dislike for him before she began to... well, you know,” Jules explains, her expression contorting slightly in distaste. “It's kind of absurd when you think about it, especially since Matt's no longer here. But Leigh holds onto her beliefs in the afterlife, so it's like she's putting on a performance for Matt's spirit or something.”

You look up at the ceiling, as if expecting to see through the hardwood floors. “And you're telling me this because...?”

“Because you've given up already,” Jules states matter-of-factly.

You're confused. “So, you don't approve of someone you've known for years, but you're okay with the idea of me, Matt's other woman, being interested in Leigh?”

Jules just shrugs again. “It's weird. Scandalous, even. Something none of us saw coming.”

(In your head, you wonder, ‘Who's ‘us’?')

“But when Leigh was hanging out with you, when you were attending her class, she wasn't with Danny much, I think,” Jules goes on. “And that’s enough for me.”

“You don’t even know me,” you argue weakly. Inside, you're kind of doing cartwheels because Jules doesn't seem to mind that you're into Leigh. Somehow, that feels like a win.

“I know Danny well enough. I've got nothing against him personally, but he somehow manages to bring out the worst in Leigh. My sister was… agreeable when you were around. She actually talked about you, even mentioned she thinks you've got gorgeous brown eyes.”

“She does?”

Jules cracks up, noticing your cheeks go pink. “Oh, absolutely. And I've got to say, seeing those eyes up close—they're kind of striking. Annoyingly so, even.”

Her tease draws a reluctant smile from you, a swarm of butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. It's comforting to know that there's at least something about you that Leigh notices.

“I should talk to her,” you say with resolve. 

“Yeah, you should,” Jules nods, her laughter settling into a warm smile. “I'm not playing Cupid or anything, but I think I like you, Y/N. Leigh could use someone like you around. Most people just back off when her less charming side shows up. When she’s intolerable. I've done it too, sometimes. But I can't really leave her hanging because, you know, she's family and I love her, so…”

Hearing Jules say those things about Leigh transforms her from someone intimidating into someone truly worth sticking around for. And if your feelings eventually lead nowhere and quietly fade over time, then at least you could be the kind of friend to her who doesn't run at the first sign of trouble.

“Jules?” you say, stopping at the foot of the staircase.

“Yeah?”

“I think I like you too.”

-

Approaching quietly, you've left your shoes by the stairs, the cool floor under your bare feet making you feel all the more vulnerable. Jules had given you directions to Leigh's bedroom—right at the end of the hallway. Downstairs, you hear the murmur of the TV; Jules has turned up the volume, probably more to give you and Leigh some semblance of privacy than for her own viewing pleasure.

When you reach Leigh's door, panic floods back in. You keep swallowing, but it's like the desert in your mouth won't let up. “I got this,” you mutter under your breath, trying to psych yourself up. You lean in, ear against the door, trying to pick up any sound. It's silent until you catch the ping of a laptop, followed by fingers typing away noisily. She might be at her desk, probably by the window, or maybe lying in some awkward, back-breaking position on her bed. Knowing she's awake strips away your last excuse to back down. You lift your hand, pause for a split second, then tap lightly on the door. Your heart's pounding so loud, you're half-convinced Leigh can hear it from the other side. 

“Leigh?” 

No answer.

“It’s me,” you say a little louder. “Can we talk?”

She doesn’t answer. 

You don't want to push her into a corner, to demand her to open up when she's clearly not ready. But walking away without laying your feelings out isn't an option either. With a heavy sigh, you slide down until you're seated on the floor, back against her door. It's a small surrender, but it doesn't feel like defeat. Not yet.

“I know you can hear me,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “It's okay if you don't want to talk. Really, it is. But there's just something I need you to know.”

You take a deep breath before the plunge. Here we go.

“Look, you were right,” you start, whispering almost, as if you're sharing a secret with the wood of the door itself. “I did downplay what Matt and I had when you asked me. But, to be completely honest, I didn't even realize I was doing it at the time.” You run your finger along the wood grain of the door, savoring the texture against your skin. Unknown to you, Leigh is on the other side, sitting with her back pressed against the same spot, hugging her knees to her chest.

“By the time you came to me, I hadn't heard from Matt in three months. I was... sober from him, and whatever we had felt like a distant dream. I can’t recall the specifics, just that it was... nice. And maybe intense at the moment, but looking back, it was more about lust and similarities than anything.”

Slowly, you lean your head against the door, closing your eyes as you continue, “I'm not telling you this to make excuses for myself. I don't want to justify the deceit. I just... I need you to understand that any impact he had on me was gone long before you and I met.”

Opening your eyes, you glance down at the space under the door, hoping to see a shadow, a sign that Leigh is right there, listening. She is, but you miss it. The hallway is dark and there’s little to no light coming from Leigh’s bedroom. 

You keep talking, now more for yourself than for her. “If there was something real between Matt and me, it wouldn't have vanished so effortlessly. And he... he likely wouldn't have just vanished either, leaving me in the dark without any explanation.”

The door flies open suddenly just as you finish your thought. With no time to react, you're sent tumbling backwards, landing with a thud on the floor. The shock of the fall momentarily stuns you, but it's the sight of Leigh, upturned, that really takes your breath away. Her eyes are hard, her expression unreadable, but it's clear she's been listening to every word.

“You could've mentioned he slept over at your place. Not having sex with him that night didn't mean it was a dismissible detail,” Leigh says, her voice thick. “Do you know how intimate it is to sleep at someone's house and not have sex? To just be there, for the sake of being there?”

You're on the ground, staring up at her. You know it now. Dressing her wounds, that was intimate. Her hand correcting your posture during yoga, that too was intimate. Sharing burgers in the car, intimate.

Whenever you do anything, or find yourself somewhere, just for the chance to be with someone—that's intimacy right there.

“I—I don’t know why I didn’t tell you,” you say. You silently promise to her that lying about your feelings for her will be the last lie you ever tell her.

“You don’t know?” Leigh sneers. “Then think!”

You push yourself into a sitting position, unsure if you should get inside her bedroom or inch back outside. In this position, you're acutely aware of the power imbalance—her standing, you on the floor. It compels you to admit some of your truth.

“I didn't want to cause you any more pain than I already have,” you say softly. “Which is funny because my very existence is likely a constant reminder of that pain.”

Something shifts in the air. You’re the first to look away and you end up just waiting for Leigh to kick you out for good. But she doesn't do what you brace for. Getting a read on her has always been like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, and it feels like it always will be.

Slowly, Leigh extends a hand to help you up. You take it, feeling the cool dampness of her skin. 

Just as she’s about to shut the door again, she stops short, locks her eyes with you, and says,  “I can handle pain just fine.”

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"It was so nice of Walter to help you with the shopping," your mother sings as she puts away a stack of cans in the pantry.

"Yeah," you agree, "it was. Especially 'cause he can carry more bags than me."

She chuckles, "he is rather strong. And big..." she's quiet as she takes out a few more things from a paper bag, "handsome."

"Ma," you gasp and look at the doorway, your father in the next room, still in the recliner.

"I don't mean... not for me," she cackles again.

"Mmm," you put the sugar in the cabinet and turn back as she stares at you, "wait... you mean for me?"

"Well..." her smile falls, "he is so helpful. And nice. And..." she shrugs and shakes her head, "I shouldn't say. Maybe I'm just being ridiculous."

"You are," you insist, "he's... a lot older. Besides, he wouldn't be interested."

"Hon," she chides, "he looks at you." She tilts her head coyly, "he watches you, you don't notice?"

"Ma," you snort again, "stop. You're going to make it awkward."

"I'm just saying. It wouldn't be entirely crazy, would it?"

"Wouldn't it?" You ask.

She's quiet again. She goes into the pantry again as you try to focus on unpacking. She's just trying to distract herself, you're sure. How can you blame her with all that's going on?

Walter is too old and he's standoffish. He's just doing your dad a favour, nothing more than that. You wouldn't blame him for wiping his hands of it all at Timothy's next catastrophe.

A sudden clatter makes you jump and has your mother scrambling out of the pantry. She grasps her chest as you hear Heather's shrill cry, "Patrick!" You rush out ahead of your mom and watch Heather hold him under his arms, placing him back in his chair.

"What's happened?" Your mom shoulders past you.

"He's alright, we were just working on our exercises," the nurse assures as she pulls back, "isn't that right, Patrick?"

Your father gurgles but doesn't speak clearly. Your mother scrunches up her fingers anxiously and hovers behind the recliner, "did he fall?"

"No, no, it was just the table," Heather points to the TV tray overturned on the other side of the chair. "He's doing very good."

"Oh, oh," your mother touches her forehead and heaves, "I was just... scared."

"Ma, why don't you lay down?" You suggest.

"I can't, I got the groceries--"

"I can get the rest," you promise, "please, I know you're not sleeping."

"Hon," she sighs.

"Ma, please, we don't need you getting sick too," you plead.

"Alright, but you come get me in an hour," she demands.

"I will."

Reluctantly she backs away, finally turning at the door. You listen to her creaky ascension and leave Heather with your father. You tremble as you set away the last of the groceries and fold up the paper bags. You tuck them beneath the sink and try to shake off your nerves.

You need a breath of fresh air. Your heady is fuzzy and your eyes glossy. You go out the back door and sit on the back steps. You shudder out a breath and hold your head. The tears trickle out before you can stop them.

The last week you've outpaced the emotions. Keeping busy with your chores, watching after your mom as she does the same for your father. It's like a snake with its own tail. You can't run anymore. Your shoulders rack as you let yourself cry, heaving into your hand as you hiccup loudly.

You just want your dad back. You want the man who used to tell you cheesy jokes about his tractor and pretend to get his finger caught in the machinery. You want everything to be like it used to be. You want to wake up from this nightmare.

You still as you run out of tears. You stay as you are, hunched over and quivering. The buzzing of insects and gentle sway of the grass hums in the air.

A sudden pounding in the grass brings your head up. Walter jogs towards you, wiping away sweat from his brow as he slows. He wears only a ribbed white take, dampened around his chest and sides. Concern ripples in his forehead as he approaches.

"Everything alright?" He puffs as he kneels before you.

"I... yeah, I'm sorry," you mop your face with your knuckles, "I was just... it's nothing."

You try to smile and your cheeks pinch and your mouth downturns. The strain in your lips tugs at your heart again and you sniff back another wave of tears, another droplet slipping free.

"Sweetheart," he rasps and surprises you as he moves to sit beside you on the step, crowding you against the short railing.

He drapes his arm around you and pulls you to him, pushing your head on his shoulder. He rocks you and hushes you. Even trapped in grief, you can't help but be stunned by his gentleness.

"I'm okay," you insist and try to draw back.

"You shouldn't hold it in," he says as he brings his hand up to pet your head, "your father's a good man--"

Before he can finish, you sob again. You shake your head and bury your face against him. You can't stop. You throw your arm around his neck and pull yourself close. He welcomes you in as his arm snakes snugger around you.

"I'm sorry," you babble, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." you chant the apology over and over as he hushes you. You can't stop. It's all spilling out and there's no way to stem the deluge.

#series #au #drabble #the farmer's daughter #night hunter #walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #backwoods au

[rogueddie]

Steve felt numb. There had been such a strong mix of good news and bad news and Steve didn't know how to deal with any of it.

Max is alive. Sort of. She's brain dead, which Steve understands as her just being dead. A beating heart doesn't change the fact that she, Max, isn't there anymore.

She's just a body with a beating heart, everything that made her Max is gone. The scolding looks, mocking tone she'd take, the way she'd put on a silly voice and call Steve 'Dad' whenever he worried over her too much. The way she sometimes called him Dad like she meant it, like she genuinely saw him as a father figure.

The way she would insist on him driving her to school and playing some of Billys mixtapes. The way she had cried when she told Steve how guilty she felt for loving Steve, the way she should have loved Billy.

But Eleven keeps trying to bring her back. Every day she goes back to that hospital room, holds onto Max with a bruising grip, trying to bring her back.

And Eddie. Steve still isn't sure how he'd been able to drag him out, running on pure fear and adrenaline. Somehow they'd gotten him to a hospital in time, they'd been able to stitch him together- but it's still touch and go. He's so severelly injured and they have him on so many drugs that, even when he's awake, he's not really. There's so much internal damage too that the doctors can't be sure he'll make it.

But he's alive. He's still fighting through it. And they're clearing his name. Hopper and some agents, working relentlessly on alibis and redirecting the blame. Its hard work, but it's working. And it's good news, Eddie will finally be seen as the good guy he is. But he's still potentially dying.

And Steve is so tired. He doesn't even have the energy to be worried when he sees his parents car in the driveway.

He stops when he finally gets inside though, blinking at the three suitcases he'd be given for travelling, clearly stuffed full. "Uh. Hello? Mom?"

It's his dad that storms in, expression thunderous. He's holding the vest Eddie gave him, waving it like it's damning evidence. "Did you think we wouldn't find out? You and that freak, Munson."

Steve stares at him for a moment. He's so tired, he's ran out of... everything. He doesn't even feel angry. Doesn't even feel irritated enough to roll his eyes. Simply sighs, holds hand ok, giving a defeated, "ok."

"Ok? That all you have to say for yourself?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I'm tired."

His dad scoffs, throws the vest at him as hard as he can. "Go find some hole to crawl inside of then. Change your name."

Steve puts the vest on, ignoring the way his dad flushes red, veins bursting out with his rage. He struggles to get all three suitcases in his hands, but he manages. "Mom not here?"

"She deserves better than what you've become," he sniffs, looking down on him.

"She deserves better than a cheating husband who doesn't love her." He glances to the kitchen. Raises his voice a little, just enough for anyone downstairs to hear him say, "she doesn't know about your secretary though, huh?"

He makes his leave as quick as he can, already sat in the drivers seat by the time his dad storms outside, yelling.

He spends that night in Eddies hospital room. Eddie even makes room for him to curl up next to him- it's a little awkward with the tubes and wires, but they manage it. The nurses aren't happy when they find them, their limbs tangled up together.

Robin looks painfully amused when she finds him sat on the floor outside the hospital, barely stopping herself from laughing when he explains that he was kicked out. She's not as happy when she finds out that he's homeless now but, like Eddie had told him, he has plenty of options.

It's only an hour later that Wayne Munson and Claudia Henderson are arguing about whos spare room would be better for Steve to stay in. It doesn't help when El throws in Hoppers cabin as an option, holding Steves hand and looking up at him with wide, sad eyes.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #ficlet #steddie fic

[sillygoosealert]

🫡 I will send in a request for some Bi-Han angst. Let’s do one where reader and Bi Han are in an argument (as couples do) and reader says something that’s very true (like idk he’s too quick to anger) And this causes a reaction out of him. And of course, being a stinky sexy angry man, he ends up lashing out in anger. And OOP- ice shards come flying towards reader, (the cold never bothered me anyway) cutting her cheek and slashing her forearm, along with a few other scrapes. Bi Han realizes she’s actually fucking RIGHT and showers reader with love, praise, and begins helping with her wounds. (Fluffy? Apology sex maybe 🤔)

WAIT WAIT THINK THINK BRAIN BLAST THIS IS REALLY AMAZING

Enough Anna..I SAID ENOUGH o(≧口≦)o

Bi-Han angst to fluff to sex 🤯 afab

‘Do you even for once want to think about how I feel about this? Because if you took a second to even talk to me half of your problems wouldn’t exist.’

His back is turned from you as he washes the blood out of one of his uniforms

‘Why won’t you look at me, I want to talk to you but you make it so, so hard. Can you even look at me, can you handle looking at me?’

‘Wouldn’t you like that? For me to just look at you and change everything about me. This is who I am, and you can either acknowledge that or continue to live in ignorance.’

‘But this isn't who you are. You are making rash and unusual decisions. I'm worried you are going to do something you'll regret immensely. You're quick to rage and you know that.’

He whips around, ice coming from his arm going towards you

‘What would you know about being Grandmaster? I am helping my clan- my people. They are thriving and are respected because of me.’

You don't hear what he says as your arms go up to protect your face and stomach from the ice shards.

They slice through your skin with ease, going through your forearm and shoulder. One even skims your cheek

It was only after his speech that Bi-Han noticed what he had done, a rash, and unusual decision that he immediately regretted.

But he doesn't make a move to go toward you, he just stands there in shock

However, you move, you move away from him quite quickly

‘Come back here. I meant no harm in my actions.’

You do not come back. You run off to the nurses

When the sky turns dark and inflicts its symptoms of the night- drowsiness, and the need for another to be by your side as you rest; you are no where to be seen

He knows it would be better to find you himself

So he wonders around until he finds you, bandaged up and sitting on a bench

‘I have been looking for you’

You look in his direction

‘Why didn't you come back’

‘You know why’

‘Please come back’

He's frowning, more than usual

‘Please?’

‘Please’

You get up, slowly walking to him

‘What do you need me to do to get you to come back?’

‘I don't know Bi-Han, everything hurts and I'm injured. I don't know if I want to come back.’

‘I’ll carry you back if you would like’

‘You’ll carry me back?’

You sound amused but he looks serious

He picks you up bridal style and starts to walk back to his room

‘You can’t just change for a day and expect me to forgive you. I don't think you'll keep up with this.’

‘With what?’

‘Being nice to me.’

He doesn't say anything to that.

After he returns to his room, he sits you on the bed

‘You are dirty’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘How do I help you clean, with your bandages?’

‘I need to take them off first, then put on new ones after’

‘So it's fine if you clean your wounds in the bath?’

‘Yes’

‘Okay..’

He takes you to his bathroom, carefully undressing you

‘Ow-’

‘Did I hurt you, What did I do?’

‘My shirt, you took it off too fast. My shoulder isn't looking good, I can just take off my own clothes..’

He shakes his head, pulling you onto his lap

‘I will be more gentle. Where else do I need to be wary of?’

‘It's just my upper body, everything else is mostly fine’

After removing your clothes, he turns on the water

Keeping you on his lap, he strokes your hair with one hand, and the other is wrapped around your waist

‘Feel the water, is that temperature okay with you?’

‘That's fine’

He slips you in, holding onto your chest rather than your arms

‘I am regretful of my earlier treatment of you. Will you let me show you I am sorry?’

‘Depends, how do you plan on showing me you didn't mean to harm me?’

‘You will see’

After bathing you, he sits you on his bed

‘Where do I need to wrap you?’

‘Shoulder and arm, anything else is fine being left alone’

He's slow and cautious when treating you, knowing you are vulnerable

You sit there naked and shivering as a man, much gruff, holds you

‘Does that feel secure?’  

‘Yes, thank you’

‘I am..sorry’

‘I know’

He frowns, squeezing your cheeks with one of his hands

You return this act, cupping his face with one of your hands

When you think he's leaning in to kiss you, he just presses his forehead against yours

‘I want to make you feel good’

‘How do you plan to do that?’

He's in between your thighs, slowly laying down so his head is on your cunt

Oh

With a little kitten lick, he starts to work on your clit

His hands are gripping your thighs as you have a hold of his hair

Slipping in two fingers, he starts to pump them in and out of your warm pussy

One of his hands wonders onto your chest and plays with your nipple

Then he starts to thrust his tongue into your vagina, his fingers now playing with your clit

The pace is fast and hard, and he's grinding into the bed

His nose is stimulating you along with his fingers, its too much

You don't ask him to stop though, that doesn't even cross your mind

With another suck to your clit your hips stutter and you squirt into his mouth

He licks it up, even lapping at your pussy to try to get more

Sighing into the bed, he rides out your orgasm

When he doesn't stop though, your thighs clench around his head on instinct

Pulling away, he wipes his lips

‘Did you feel good?’

‘Yes Bi-Han, thank you’

‘Do you still hold what happened earlier against my character?’

‘I won't just forget what happened, but I don't hate you for it’

You run your fingers through his hair as he lays his head on your chest

‘Okay..’

‘I love you, I hope you know that’

‘Thank you..’

You kiss his head and you both doze off, what happened earlier doesn't matter right now

Nothing matters right now, it's okay

🎀

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #bi han #bi han x reader #bihan #mk1 bi han #angst #mortal kombat bi han #mk1 angst #bi han smut #bi han mk #bi han mortal kombat #bi han sub zero #mk bi han #bi han x you #mk sub zero #mortal kombat sub zero #mk1 sub zero #sub zero #mk 1 #mk smut #mortal kombat smut

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for @wolfjackle; omega!Clark wants to nurse his pups and hungry!Kon doesn't realize he counts. Cut for length.

Kon’s breathing is normal, and his heartbeat is too. No signs of bruising or cuts or burns or any internal damage. He’s definitely passed out and not asleep, because the kid sleeps light, but that's not exactly reassuring. 

Nothing about his pup being functionally unconscious is reassuring, obviously. 

It doesn't help that Kon is functionally unconscious in his arms, either, because Clark's inner omega is losing its goddamn mind right now. It wants Kon curled up safe in a pack nest and to curl up around him in turn and just not come out until the next apocalypse. 

Kon is just so small and skinny and sharp-boned, and Clark just . . . 

It's very, very hard to keep himself from letting down. Or from scenting the kid with protective pheromones. Or–

It's just hard. 

But not as hard as it was for Kon to keep that building from collapsing on everyone inside it, Clark's sure, so he pushes all that aside and just checks the kid over again before forcing himself to take off with him again. He hates being exposed with Kon when Kon's vulnerable like this, but staying on the roof isn't exactly ideal either. Even if the kid doesn't want to be in a nest with him, at least he can get him back to the den and into his room. Or the living room, at least, if Kon doesn't wake up by the time they get there. 

Clark stays out of Kon's room, because Kon's never invited any of them into it. They all do.

Clark has to respect that. It's not Kon's den, but it's still his. 

Clark is very, very careful of respecting things that belong to Kon, given that the kid hadn't had a damn thing but the clothes on his back when they took him in. Nothing he’d been able to keep from what little Lex had allowed him. And Clark’s gotten the impression that Lex had allowed him very, very little. 

So it's not really a surprise that Kon invests the vast majority of his allowance in clothes and consumable things, considering. Things that either won't or can't be taken away from him, statistically. 

At least it's not a surprise to Clark, anyway. 

He takes Kon back to the pack den. Kon doesn’t so much as stir for the whole flight there, which admittedly isn’t a very long flight, especially with how fast Clark takes it. The fact still makes him feel restless and uncomfortable and worried, though. 

Still makes him want to curl up in a nest and scent his pup with safe-protected-safe, and makes his chest ache. 

He lands on the balcony and ducks into the apartment with Kon in his arms, and feels a little tension go out of himself at being enveloped in the familiar scents of their home territory. Kon doesn’t relax at all, but he tries not to read into that. The kid’s functionally unconscious. It’s . . . normal, not to react to things like that in that condition. 

He wants to believe that right now, anyway. 

“Saw the news,” Lois says from the kitchen table, putting a hand on Jon’s shoulder to keep him in his seat and visibly restraining the urge to come over to them herself–to not crowd Kon while he’s vulnerable, which Clark appreciates. They’re pack, but he knows Kon just isn’t comfortable in that close to them. He wouldn’t be this close to him if he were conscious right now. “The kid okay?” 

“He just overused the TTK again,” Clark reassures her as he lays Kon on the couch with a twinge of regret. It’s not the nest, but Kon never even goes near the nest, so . . . “Kept the whole power plant in one piece so I could clear out the civilians and then passed right out.” 

“Wasn’t the power plant actively exploding?” Lois says, her eyebrows shooting up. Clark spares her a wry smile. “Jesus.” 

“Seriously?!” Jon says, looking starry-eyed and leaning forward in his seat. “That’s so cool!” 

“It was pretty cool, yeah,” Clark says with a quiet laugh, relieved that Jon isn’t worrying and giving him a quick smile as he resists the urge to scent Kon again and tries not to look too worried himself. He doesn’t drape the throw over Kon–it’d be too close to scenting him, with how much it smells like everyone else in the pack. Even laying him on the couch at all . . . well, he won’t go into the kid’s room without permission outside of an emergency, so it’s the lesser of two evils, that’s all. Much lesser, in Clark’s opinion. 

The pack’s scent doesn’t really include Kon, except in the faintest traces. Even the den’s doesn’t. And Kon himself doesn’t smell outright stray, but . . . 

Well, he smells like he’s just occasionally around a pack, more than actually part of one. And right now, with his suit and blockers on, even to Kryptonian senses he doesn’t smell like he has a pack at all. 

It’s making it a little difficult for Clark to stop worrying. 

Or . . . very difficult, at this point. 

“This kid is gonna be the death of me, I swear,” Lois says, her brow furrowing and her pheromones just barely tinged with restlessness. She’s not the type to fret unnecessarily, but bringing their unconscious pup home when he smells this close to stray . . . 

Well, of course she’d be concerned about that. 

“I was right there the whole time,” Clark promises her, stepping away from the couch before he accidentally does something like brush Kon’s hair back off his forehead or anything similarly invasive. It’s the kind of thing he’d do to Jon without even thinking, but . . . 

Well, once early on he’d lifted a hand intending to touch Kon’s cheek and the kid had outright flinched.

So it’s not something he does to Kon. 

#wolfjackle #omegaverse #wip: omega!clark and hungry!kon

[forever-rogue]

Hi Bee,

OK I got a Nurse Steve request for you. I was thinking tooth rotting fluff. I'm thinking it's been a few days since Cami was brought home and Steve doesn't leave her side. He's talking to her in a baby voice, badly singing, watching her every movement, telling her that if she ever considers dating Uncle Eddie and Aunt Robin will help bury the body..etc. The reader watches smiling, Steve's sees her his eyes light up with so much love. He knows its time for Cami to eat he says something like "Mommy's the best, she's going to feed you, just go easy on her " Or something like that. Then he kisses the reader, presses their foreheads looking into her eyes saying. "Thank you for everything, my clumsy girl"

(Let me know what you think <3)

AN | Okay, but imagine Stevie and his clumsy girl bringing home baby Camila 🥺 This can be read as a companion piece to the below but also as a stand alone!

Warnings | Mild Language

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.1k

Masterlist | Steve, Main, Nurse Steve

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Camila May Harrington had been home for almost a week. 

And it had been singularly the best and most stressful week of Steve’s life. There wasn’t a way for him to properly describe the feeling that came from being at home with his wife and daughter. To put in simple terms it was the best feeling in the entire world; he had everything he could have ever wanted. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you were lying in bed, thoroughly exhausted but happy. You were hoping to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before Cami woke up again; it was hard adjusting to the sleep schedule of a newborn, but at least you’d had some practice with the last trimester of pregnancy where you could barely sleep yourself. 

“Hey,” Steve whispered softly, shifting over to face you, a sleepy smile on his own face. He reached over and tenderly brushed his knuckles over your cheek, causing you to lean into his touch.

“Hey yourself,” you reached for his hand and brought to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, “do you think we’ll be able to get some sleep for real this time?”

“I think we might be in the clear,” he laughed softly, draping an arm over your waist and pulling you closer to his warm body, “maybe Cami will have some pity on her poor old parents.”

“Can’t even blame her but fuck, this is hard,” you hated saying the words out loud but if anyone in the world understood what you were going through it would be him. He knew, at least technically, all that your body was going through. Plus he was there with you in the thick of it all; you were so thankful that he’d taken time off to be home with the two of you, “I love her so much but do you think it’ll get easier? Am I…am I a bad mother?”

“Angel,” he tutted gently and shook his head, “it will get easier, I promise. We’re adjusting to a whole new little person being with us, and having to be the people that keep that little person alive and happy. It’s a big change and responsibility but it’ll get better the longer we do it. And you are not a bad mother. You’re amazing-”

“How do you know? It’s barely been over a week,” you felt the tears well up but Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead in what he hoped was a sign of reassurance, “I don’t wanna mess anything up!”

“You’ve already been taking care of her for nine months,” you couldn’t help but snort in amusement at his bright smile, “and it’s easy to see how much you love her. She knows that too.”

“Okay,” there wasn’t a way you could love him anymore if you tried. He really was everything to you, “you too, you know. It’s easy to see that you adore our daughter.”

“I do,” he promised, even though it definitely didn’t need to be said, “and I like getting to say our daughter.”

“She definitely takes after you,” you yawned and he raised an amused eyebrow, “those pretty brown eyes and an already full head of hair. And she’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

“So does her mother,” he took your hand and laced his fingers through yours, “we’ll make sure the next one takes after you.”

“Oh? You assume I’m going to go through this again, Steve Harrington?” his cheeks pinked as he sheepishly shrugged. But you ruffled his hair affectionately, “you already know I would, my love. We’ll have all the little Harringtons running around one day.”

“I am so-” before he could finish whatever he was going to say, you hear Cami’s soft cries coming from her crib. You didn’t bother to hide your sigh; this was a normal reaction after all, it didn’t mean that you loved her any less.

"I'll go," you couldn't even remember whose turn it was to go and check on her but it had just become such a natural reaction. Steve wrapped his fingers gently around your wrist and kept you from getting out of the bed, "Steve-"

"I'll get her," he insisted softly, but with a firmness that suggested he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He kissed you softly before making his way out of the bed and towards the door, "I'm going to take her to the nursery so you can try and get some rest."

"Thank you," you looked at two of them, the absolute picture of perfection, before slumping back against the pillows, "I love you both so, so much."

"We love you too," he replied softly as he held Cami against his chest, "lots and lots."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Hey there Cami girl," he cooed softly as he held her gently, but securely, against his chest. Her cries had quieted slightly but she was sniffling and had big crocodile tears running down her chubby little cheeks, "its alright baby girl, Daddy's got you."

He opened the door to her nursery and turned on the nightlight before gently sitting down in the rocking chair. Steve remembered how much you had loved it while you were pregnant and how'd you sit in there while you watched him work. He wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Shh, shh," he cooed as she laid against his bare chest, her chubby little hand holding onto his pinkie. He liked getting to hold her like this and was a big fan of skin to skin contact, "yeah, you're okay, huh? Daddy's right here."

He smoothed his hand up and down her back in the way he'd come to know that she loved. She hiccuped lightly but the gentle rocking of the chair seemed to lull her and calm her down.

Steve started singing softly to her, lullabies that he remembered from his childhood - some of the earliest and best memories he had of his parents - and one that he’d taken the time to learn during your pregnancy. He thought he sounded terrible, but you always insisted that you loved his voice; he hoped that Cami agreed. 

Once she grew more tired and her breathing evened out, he switched to telling her stories from when he was younger and all the people that she was going to meet soon. 

“Family,” he stroked her pink, chubby little cheek, “one thing you’ll learn in life is that sometimes the best parts are the family that you make. But I hope that you always know that your mama and I love you so much. We’re always going to be here for you.”

She made a small sound almost like she was agreeing with him, which brought a smile to his face. He closed his own tired eyes, willing himself not to fall asleep; there was a part of him that was still worried about accidentally crushing her despite the fact that he knew that was extremely unlikely. 

“You’re already so loved,” he promised her, “you’ve got a huge family all waiting to meet you. I think you’re going to be stuck with them for life. Like Aunt Robin, Uncle Dustin, and Aunt Nancy and Uncle Eddie. You’re never going to be lonely. And, as you get older, you’ll be so thankful for them. Except for maybe when you start dating…Aunt Robin and Uncle Eddie would be the first to help me hide a body, but I’m just putting that out there. But we won’t have to worry about that for a long time.”

Before the two of them managed to fall asleep, Steve told her some stories about his adventures with his friends, the parts that were either suitable for children or severely edited, and about his story with you. Eventually, sleep won over and Steve fell asleep along with the baby snuggled up on his chest. Meanwhile, you were passed out in bed, snoring softly as you caught up on some much needed sleep.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You weren't sure how long you had been asleep by the time you woke up but you were still alone in bed. You stretched, enjoying the popping of your stiff joints before making your way down the hall to the nursery. You had a feeling you'd find your loves there.

Sure enough, the two of them were in the rocking chair, both snoozing away. You didn't want to wake them but you also felt bad for leaving them like that knowing Steve would have a stiff and sore neck. 

"Hey, my love," you gently put your hand on his shoulder, attempting not to startle him. His sleepy, pretty brown eyes slowly opened and he graced you with a gentle smile, "come back to bed. It's your turn for some rest."

"You sure?" He mumbled as you nodded. Your husband gingerly stood up, doing his best not to wake the baby as he padded back down the hall after you. 

Pulling back the covers you made a space for him and he almost all but fell into bed. You slid in next to the two of them, snuggled up as best as you could.

Cami seemed to have other ideas as she started to squirm and fuss around again. Steve gently cooed at her, attempting to calm her down, but nothing seemed to work. It only took him a few minutes to realize what was going on, "you're hungry, huh baby girl? Well, your mama's the best but you have to ask her."

"Yeah, I think I can help out here," you whispered, gently reaching for her small body to hold her to yours. It was amazing what just a few hours of sleep could do, but you already felt a little better. 

"You gotta be good to her, okay? Be easy on her," he murmured as fixed your top so she could easily nurse. He rolled onto his side and closely watched the two of you with nothing but awe and reverence in his eyes, "you gonna be okay, angel?"

“Of course,” you settled Cami on your chest so she could latch on properly and start nursing. After a little bit of struggling the first couple of days, it had become so much easier, “the little bit of sleep helped. And I’ve got you right here….there’s nothing better.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he wished he had his camera then and there to capture the sweet moment of his family, “my whole world, right next to me.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you carded a hand through his dark hair, gently scratching at his scalp, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he yawned and felt his eyes getting heavier again, “‘m sorry you have to do all the hard work.”

“What do you mean?” you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips, “Stevie?”

“You’re the one that had to be pregnant and your whole body is still going through so much,” yeah…that had been pretty hard, “would do it for you if I could.”

“I know,” and you both knew that he was being serious, “you’re a good man, my love. But don’t worry, it’s all okay. And just so you know, I’d do this all again.”

“Again?”

“Mhmm,” you soothed your hand gently along Cami’s back, “and we’ll do it again eventually, yeah? Have baby number two.”

“Only if you want,” he loved the idea of having more children, but he’d never push you to do anything you didn’t want, “you’re really cute pregnant, but you’re always cute. Beautiful, sexy. All of it.”

“Oh Stevie,” you sighed contentedly, “I love you so much. We’ll figure it all out eventually. But for now, we’ll take it day by day.”

“That sounds perfect to me,” he agreed softly, “my girls, you’re everything to me.”

And he was everything to you too, as was Camila. 

That broken ankle really was one of the best things to ever happen. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #nurse!steve #joe keery

[aulescev]

Prisoner König x Nurse Reader

Soooo, I made a fanfiction where Monster!König is a prisoner, while the reader is a nurse at a maximum security prison. I'm so excited to share it with everyone, but also kinda anxious because I never really had someone read my works, let alone post a fanfiction I made (っ ̩̆╭╮ ̩̆)っ Anyway, here it is! Hope my writing will find a place in your heart somehow!

The Confinement, To you, the nurse who loves overstepping her boundaries, be careful and take this warning seriously, or else, the monster that lives under a man’s skin might devour you whole.

Nurse Reader x Prisoner König, hate to love trope.

!! Warning, this story contains: Dub-con/Non-con, Gore descriptions, Death, Poisoning, Manipulation, Obsession, Suicide, Possessive and Controlling tendencies, and Immorality. Heavily NSFW, minors DO NOT interact. Do inform me if I missed any.

!! Proceed at your own discretion

Disclaimer: I only have basic knowledge about prison, and what prison nurses are assigned to do inside its secured walls. The same thing goes for prisoners. Consider this a fictional work based in an alternative universe, only with the same countries, and stuff but with monsters + altered laws and rights to fit the story. So take this as it is, or shoo away. You can give me a few tips so I can take note of them, but please, be kind (｡ •́‿•̀｡ ) This is my first fan fiction, and story so yeah, expect a lot of errors + English isn’t my native language + I don’t speak German and only used a translator for this, so sorry in advance for the migraines my writing could cause you.

Chapter 01: The monster that lives under a killer’s skin.

Word Count: 3.9k

∆. 12:04:55PM of November 24, m. hallway of the prison.

You're a nurse at a maximum-security prison. Providing care for both the staff and prisoners, a right everyone equally has so even if you don't like the idea of aiding murderers, and people of such backgrounds, due to some reason, this is the only job opportunity you can take as of the moment.

Today's actually your first day, so naturally, you're shown around the workplace you now have to get yourself accustomed to.

"Most importantly, don't trust anyone other than the staff. These men are filthy, better not get your hands dirty, know what I mean?" Sir Wagner stated, the disgust in his tone is evident and it's enough to let you know how much he despises the criminals behind the bars of his prison.

Even though you would like to agree with the statement of the prison's head, you can't find it in you to despise the people in the prison as much as he does. You're a little too soft sometimes, and also of contradicting nature that makes you automatically take the opposite side of any argument even when it gains you nothing.

Sensing you won't reply— honestly, he doesn't really care if you'll reply or what, since he just wants to get this over with— the warden decided to conclude that conversation there.

"Do you have any questions?" He asked, a plain tone now as he speak, putting his hands deep inside his pocket.

"None, thank you for showing me around."

You replied in an equally plain tone, also wanting to get over it already like he does. He didn't take it personally, his years as the warden made him professional and collected most of the times. Plus, he understood your unenthusiastic nature at your new job, no one after all would be that happy to work in a prison where they keep high profile criminals.

"Well, that's great then. I'll have Benedikt here assist you while you get accustomed with your new work. Ask him when you need help, and if you have any questions." With a brief glance over to the man on his right, sir Wagner introduced the other guy that unnoticeably joined your group of two along the way.

Benedikt nodded at you when you looked at him, he's got an awkward smile forced on his face as he stretch his arms towards you for a handshake.

"Benedikt MacTavish, nice to meet you," He introduced himself, his hand hanging in the air as he wait for you to reach it.

MacTavish? Doesn’t sound like a local name. You’re glad for that, at least you’re not the only foreigner on your new workplace.

"I'm—"

"Yeah, I remember. Your surname's familiar though, Price, yeah? Are you perhaps related to a military captain?" He casually cuts off your introduction, seemingly eager to know something like he can't hold the question another second longer.

A little taken aback with how he outright talked over you, you were silent for a minute to process that fact and also his question.

"Ah, yes, right," you replied when things finally start sinking in your brain, "Well, he's actually my uncle. How come you know of him?"

Honestly, he's not related to you by blood. He's just your adoptive father's cousin, which makes him your foster uncle if that word even exists. But he doesn't need to know that much about you, what would he even do with the information if you told him?

"Ah, well, my cousin's actually the man's friend. John MacTavish? Soap? Does that ring any bells?"

"Oh, Johnny, yeah, I know the man. What a small world we live in," you smiled after hearing a familiar name, finding the coincidence a bit funny.

Finally, you took Benedikt's hand to shake it, forgetting for a moment that it's still waiting for your hand.

"Nice to meet you, Soap's cousin."

"Nice to meet you, Price's niece," he returned the introduction in the same humor, a genuine smile now plastered over his lips.

"I'll leave you two to it." Sir Wagner interfered and just left you two without another word, which is honestly weird but expected of a man his type.

"Phew, glad I found something common with you, or else it'll be hard to find an ice breaker activity," Benedikt sighed in relief after sir Wagner's finally gone from the scene, "Have you already went to the dorms? Found your room, and all?"

With a shake of your head to answer his question, you wordlessly replied no and looked at him, seeing what he'll say or do.

"Ah, alright, I can show you where it is, then we can start our rounds after. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure, thanks," You answered, your tone is a bit lively now compared to with sir Wagner earlier, since you're like a chameleon who adapts to whichever environment it's in.

You're blue when they're blue, pink when they're pink, red when they're red, and so on and so forth. A firm believer of do unto others what they've done to you. Karma? You rarely put your faith in that, you mostly take things to your hands and be the human version of the word revenge. It's not really cool, in fact, you kind of live harder because of it, but no way your ego would let go of your way of living.

Benedikt started walking, looking at his back every now and then to check if you're still following him as he quietly traversed the halls that should eventually lead to the dorms.

In the middle of your journey, you passed the center of the prison that connects all wings of the building, which means, each transported prisoner would also pass the center before getting to their assigned cell.

The tension in the central building was thick, the air is almost suffocating that it made you freeze on your spot as you try to find the cause of such unnatural atmosphere.

When your eyes landed on the now closing heavy door of the building, your gaze immediately fell to the tallest man in the middle of armed men.

He instantly caught your attention with his tall height, sticking like a sore thumb from the whole crowd.

"Benedikt, you know anything about that man?" You asked in a low voice, curious to find out who he could be, not even tearing your eyes away from the behemoth of a man.

"Ah, shit, today's his transfer, I totally forgot…" He muttered under his breath with a curse, "König, an ex-military guy. Would you believe that today's only his 8th day in prison? Like all prison days combined. He won't behave in any cell he's put in, forcing him to be transferred on new places every other day with how many crimes he commit on each one."

"What??" You uttered in disbelief, taken by a total surprise with the information.

"Yeah, I'm being totally honest right now. It's not normal that a criminal would be transferred from a normal prison to the maximum security because of misbehaving, but guess what? He's committed murder after murder in each base. That's what made him worthy of maximum security prison."

You can just try to press your lips in a thin line, an attempt to hide your disgust. Murderer… The vilest things to exist in this world. How can he live knowing the fact that he's ended a person's life? Oh, how much you loathe them.

You kept a scornful gaze towards his way, throwing daggers as if your stare alone could kill the guy. And of course, it's impossible that he wouldn't feel it, eventually staring back at you.

König, as Benedikt referred him, looked back at you straight in the eyes. Even though there were no holes in the sack that's put on over his face right now, you're certain that he turned his head just to identify who could be burning a hole on his head right now.

You feel like throwing up. Just the thought of breathing the same air as that of a murderer was enough to make you feel nauseous.

"Benedikt, let's go. Bring me to the dorms already." You said, almost pleading as the desperation to get out of his presence faintly showed.

∆. 06:39:07PM of the same day, nurses' office.

"So how was your first round?" Benedikt asked, giving you the canned sparkling water he opened just now.

"Horrible," you replied, taking the canned drink from his hand and downing it quickly.

The drink slid down your throat just like any other liquid, but it's a little painful because of the fact that it's carbonated. You just downed your drink, the bubbles popping on your throat and making you feel like it's burning your insides for a second.

Benedikt gave you a concerned look, but quickly masked it with a soft laugh, "Well, I cannot blame you… Working with criminals isn't exactly the most honorable thing out there. Plus we're understaffed, which makes the workload for each of us actually horrible."

"Yeah, right, that too," you grimaced, feeling more exhausted than how you usually do back when you were just working at the hospital, "I'm sorry Benedikt, my condolences goes to you. You're the most packed nurse here."

He chuckled, "Well, if you're sorry, take some of my patients?" He joked, which earned a laugh out of you.

Before you could even reply, there's suddenly a loud bang in the room and it wasn't a gun, it was the room's door being haphazardly thrown open by a panicking nurse who's also out of breath.

Jane, one of the nurse you've met today.

"Someone! Help! Vanessa! She's– she's wounded! Her eyes! Oh my, heavens, her eyes! We have to sedate König, where's the syringe?!" She started rummaging the room for a syringe and a drug that's supposed to put a person to a deep sleep.

Alerted, Benedikt and you stood up and helped her search for something. When Benedikt got his hand on the drug, he approached Jane and held her shoulders, trying to calm her down.

"Jane, calm down, I got it, but first, I need you to take a deep breath. You can't work with panicked nerves." He tried calling in some sense to her, but she won't calm down.

She started screaming, and started getting hysterical.

Jane, and Vanessa, you're pretty sure they got a thing with each other, maybe this is why she's acting inconsolable?

"Give me the syringe and the drug, I'll respond instead," You presented, preferred to sedate a monster rather than calming a stranger down.

Benedikt's got a better knowledge than you do, it’s better you leave them be than be left to console her with words you probably wouldn't mean. At least that's what you thought.

Benedikt pondered for a moment whether you're fit or not to handle the situation, but in the end, he decided to trust you, giving you the things after all, and also telling the number cell of König.

Rushing to the scene, with an emergency kit you grabbed in the office, you wasted no time and ran as fast as you could.

1245. Cell 1245, prisoner 190228. Must hurry up to cell 1245 before it's too late.

Eventually, you reached your destination, and unfortunately for your guts, you were met with a gore scene. There's an emptied syringe poked into one of Vanessa's eyeballs, one of her hands wrapped around the object in fear as she trembles, and cries.

There's also a whole puddle of blood under her, a lot on her white uniform, and mouth. Now that you observe her, she's also shedding tears of blood, her lips tainted red as blood continues to flow out of it.

What the fuck. This scene is fucking horrendous. What happened?

The guards are gathered around König, watchful of his steps, expectant and quite tense as they wait for him to make a move— ready to stop him from causing even more havoc. While he's not moving, König is watching Vanessa bleed on the floor with cold eyes which is honestly more frightening than him causing a scene.

He's fortunately not punching one guard after the other, so you doubt there was a need for sedating him.

Surveying the situation, you decided to change your plans of prioritizing the sedation of König, to aiding Vanessa first.

Without an inch of hesitation, you knelt in front of Vanessa, some blood soaking the edge of your white skirt. You placed the emergency kit beside you, opening it with haste until everything in the kit is visible.

"It's no use!" Vanessa cried, "The poison has–" she then frantically screamed, fumbling a few of her words as she started gagging from her own blood.

Before you could even touch her, she dropped dead on the floor. A sight that will be the reason of your nightmares for days, or weeks.

You were shaken down your core, blood suddenly cold, and heart beating extremely fast out of shock. You feel your body freeze, hands that were supposed to hold her now are hanging mid-air.

"I just saved her years in prison for murder," You heard a man's voice from behind you speak in a thick, and unexpectedly boyish accent.

You can't stop your brows from furrowing, and eyes show contempt at the mere sound of his voice, let alone his words.

"You are disgusting, a vile creature, don't you dare open that filthy mouth of yours." Unable to restrain yourself, you spit each word with venom as you slowly turn around to look at him furiously, "You are the murderer here. Don't confuse it now."

He does not speak. His eyes only staring at you through those 2 small holes on his makeshift mask.

Holding his equally piercing gaze, you stood your ground, rationality has left your body. You're acting on impulse, on your emotions, something a professional shouldn't do in this type of situation but damn, your ego is just some other kind of level. It will definitely put you on your place someday, but you thought that you should just worry about it when that time comes.

"Pathetic human. Too dumb to even think." He finally broke the silence, irritation in his voice.

Before you could even reply, he had already turned his back on you, walking back to his cell on his on will. The guards locked him up quickly after checking on him one last time.

The maximum security prison is totally different from a normal one. It's worse. Because everyone is sworn to confidentiality, no word really gets out on what's happening behind its high walls.

Prisoners in this place are like expendable pawns. The government uses them however they wish, and unsurprisingly, companies too. They have illegal control over some of the prisoners, depending on how much they paid the government for it.

Someone wants König dead, and you're not even surprised that he was already tried to be disposed of first day in. It could be a private company he used to work for, or maybe enemy, it could also be done for personal reasons. Signing up for a job here means you should expect those types of things, that's why you made sure to be adequately prepared over events like this happening during your shift.

If he was a normal person, you would've felt bad for the prejudice you have over him, but he's a convicted murderer– a serial killer at this point, so you believe that he doesn't deserve the benefit of doubt.

"A killer won't get my sympathy. That will be the last thing I'll ever do in this earth," You've uttered, anger never leaving your eyes as you sat still in your place.

∆ . 11:59:31PM of that day, staff dormitory.

With a gasp, you wake up from a shallow sleep, catching your breath as you try to recover from the nightmare you just had.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cursed repeatedly, frustration and distraught are clearly heard in your voice.

Fortunately, you're the only one in your room, not a shared dorm or anything, or else your hypothetical roommate would've pegged you for a madman.

Why would it be about that now of all days? You said at the back of your mind, frustrated over the dream you just had.

Desperately, you tried to swallow that thought, along with the nightmare. Fortunately, before the memory gets too vivid, the alarm on your wristwatch goes off which pulled you out of the world you’re sucked in.

It's the alarm you set the first time you got it, 12:00AM. Midnight on the dot.

You sat down, trying to calm yourself.

Ah, right, your next shift is at 12:45AM which is just 45 minutes from now. With Vanessa gone, and Jane temporarily dismissed to rest, you had to take the extra shift and give up a few hours of your precious sleep.

That reminds you, have you checked up on König as you were supposed to? Even if you hate him, you still have to do your job.

Shit, now you got to fill his report before anyone even notice or ask for it.

Reluctantly, you got out of your bed and prepared to check in early for your shift, planning to stealthily take the prisoner's record to fill it up, hopefully while no one's around to harshly criticize your tardiness on your first day.

— &

You made it to 1245 cell without any road bumps, luckily. Now all that's left is actually checking up on König which you can just frown about. Before sticking the key in the hole, you took a deep breath and tried to at least look neutral—your working face.

Counting from 1 to 5 quietly at the back of your mind, you collected yourself at 3, steeled yourself at 4, and finally, pushed the iron door open at 5 without giving yourself enough time to hesitate and get cold feet.

This prison gives each prisoner a spacious place to live in almost comfort, with only one person per room. At least that's how they do it in this part of Austria. There are quite a lot of cells after all, so they're not shy on using all of them.

"I'm your nurse, I will be checking up on you so please, sit down." You said with a firm tone, putting the bag on the bedside table where all of the essentials for vital checking should be packed.

Each nurse on duty is required to use the same bag, for both safety, and precaution.

"Ärgerlich schädling," he muttered under his unusual breathy voice which set an alarm in you.

Now that you look at it, the back of his shirt is wet, and he's panting a little. Did you really mess up big time on your first day? Shit, now you have to fix this somehow.

"Prisoner 190228," you read the number assigned to him, printed on the sheet of paper you're holding one-handedly, "I said sit down. I can't check on you properly if you're positioned that way."

It was pathetic really. Your nerves are getting the best of you, and it's hinted on your voice.

“Will nicht,” he grumbled, unmoving and unbothered.

You never really stayed in Austria that long in the past. Only a year or two to finish the last 2 years of your nursing school but your university didn’t require you to speak German so you didn’t bother getting that deep into learning the language. You’re an entry-level speaker at best, but since it’s been years already, you’ve lost that ability and can only guess what he’s saying.

“You will, now hurry up and sit down so we can get this over with.”

“Ich sagte nein, verliere dich.”

“Yes, you will. And please, I would really appreciate it if you speak in English.”

You heard his tongue clicked at that, “Warum sollten sie überhaupt eine Ausländerin einstellen? Ich bin es verdammt leid, diese verdammte sprache zu sprechen!” He groaned, almost sounding like a teenager throwing a tantrum at his bed.

He sat down on his bed after that outburst, you don’t even need to peek under that mask of his to know he’s frowning in annoyance, his eyes alone says it all.

“Awfully late to check up on me now, yeah?” He asked, begrudgingly you think, but you decided not to give attention to it.

“Did the syringe grazed you? Was it injected on you? Or did it find other ways to get into your veins?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“It did not.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am fine, so get lost.” He snapped again, his voice starting to sound like his catching his breath again.

You thought he was grinding his teeth the whole conversation, and now it made sense. He’s holding something back, and it’s probably the pain from the poison, his tone only adds up as an evidence to that.

“You are not. You’re breathless, sweating, and,” your eyes looked all over him, trying to observe his posture, to find proofs to support your claim, “…You’re sweating buckets, and shaking.”

You bit your lips, an attempt to maintain your composure as you try to find a solution.

“I need to see your face, take that mask off,” without a warning, you reached for the edge of his mask— something that you later regretted doing so.

In an instant, he has put you under him, his gloved, big hand is wrapped around your neck while the other one is gripping your wrist that was once the closest to his mask earlier.

He’s fuming in anger, the heat coming off him is immense as if he’s a steam machine. Bodies wouldn’t act normally like this against poison, not this much heat while keeping a great vigor. His body feels so different… something you’ve never seen before.

“Touch my mask once more,” He seethed through gritted teeth, anger evident in his unblinking eyes, “Then I will have to devour you.” He threatened, his hot breath and heavy body touching your skin, “Stubborn maus. Get your ass out of here before it’s too late. I won’t take responsibility for your insanity.”

This marks the end of this chapter.

[A/N: Thank you for reading this far! I'm open to gentle criticisms because my heart can't handle harsh words hsdahfw. I'll try my best to take them positively though! Notice that there are timestamps (like ∆ . and — & with the former being a longer time skip, and the latter a matter of a few minutes difference from the latest indicated time), and locations during an event. I placed them there so there would be less confusion regarding the timeline and when a particular event happened:) I added translations in the last part to keep it realistic too. Like, you're meant to not understand him much whenever he speaks German so yeah. Still, if you're curious what they translate to, the translations will be just down this note. That's all, thank you again! (´｡ • ᵕ •｡ `) ♡]

CHAPTER 01 TRANSLATIONS:

[1]: Ärgerlich schädling, Annoying pest

[2]: Will nicht, [I] don’t want

[3]: Ich sagte nein, verliere dich, I said no, get lost

[4]: Warum sollten sie überhaupt eine Ausländerin einstellen? Ich bin es verdammt leid, diese verdammte sprache zu sprechen, Why should they hire a fucking foreigner at all? I’m fucking tired of speaking that damn language

[5]: Maus, Mouse

#yandere konig #monster fucker #fanfic #prisoner konig #nurse reader #female reader #monster!konig #konig x reader #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #cod #konig

[borbygorlinbbqworld]

A woman doesn't notice that one of the bras she bought is a nursing one. Once she wears it her boobs fill with milk and keep growing

Anya had always had big boobs.

Ever since they had started growing at age 13, they had been on the larger scale. The process for buying bathing suits and bras in particular had always proven a challenge; she had a very petite frame, but her breasts seemed to stick out of everything, and were often sore from the padding that came with retail bras.

Which was why finding the Abra Cadabra bra in the return pile at Target meant so much to her. She looked at herself wearing it in the mirror, turning this way and that. There was virtually no padding, so while her nipples did poke through the fabric a bit, it was super comfortable. The straps didn't dig in, which was another huge bonus.

She marveled at how well it supported her jugs, even bouncing them by the straps. Though they did jiggle quite a bit, it still felt comfortable.

She smiled at herself in the bathroom mirror, finally content. She looked at the box the bra came in, wondering how she had missed this product for so long.

Nursing Bra.

Anya's cheeks flushed. The reason it must have fit so well was because the bra was intended for women with massive jugs nursing their kids.

It was a little embarrassing, but so what, right? No one would know the bra was meant for--

Suddenly, Anya felt a tightness in her breasts. It was a feeling she usually got when her bras were too small, but this bra fit, didn't it? She looked at herself in the mirror, but nothing seemed amiss.

But the feeling continued, even through to the next week.

She stood in front of the mirror again with her top pulled over her breasts, examining them. Her healthy, round double Gs looked... different.

She was no stranger to her cycle filling her cups up a little bit here and there, but this was different. Her breasts looked swollen and full, and they felt like they weighed a ton. Her nipples were constantly hard now, poking through the fabric of the bra like two aching cherries.

"Holy fuck..."

Anya whipped around, jostling her full breasts, and startled at the sound of the man's voice. Ben, her older brother's friend, stood before her. His cheeks were flushed as he stared down at her chest.

She fumbled with her shirt, doing her best to pull it back down over her boobs, but the fabric protested. It was a stretchy fabric, but even it has its limits. Finally, she shoved them into the shirt, the tightness forcing breath from her.

The shirt certainly hadn't been that tight when she put it on this morning...

"Sorry," she finally said. "I was just seeing something..."

"Looking at how big they've gotten?" Ben asked.

Anya flushed. So he noticed too... "I don't know what you mean."

He reached his hands over, gently hoisting her heavy boobs up. She released a heavy sign of relief; who knew her back ached so much from them!

But Ben didn't stop there. Gently, he rubbed his thubs over her nipples, hardening them further. Anya let out a moan; good God, that felt good!

What didn't feel good, however, was the continued tightness in her chest as it strained against a t-shirt unequipped to hold her endowment.

"Your tits were already big. Now, they're..."

Anya squeaked helplessly as he massaged her breasts occasionally jiggling them around. Every jostle not only made her shirt feel even tighter, but her clit begged for release.

"Can I tell you something?" Ben tore his gaze from her breasts to look her in the eyes. "I always had a bit of a crush on you when we were all younger. Couldn't help but picture marrying you, and getting you pregnant as many times as I possibly could."

She bit her lip to stifle the moan of pleasure his words brought her.

Riiiip.

What was that? Anya was too distracted to look away from Ben to bother. He continued handling her, sinking his fingers into her flesh; she could feel each and every gland swell at his touch.

"I couldn't stop myself from thinking about how I'd fuck you, even when you're pregnant. How your tits would get so fucking huge, you'd be some bed-ridden breeding cow..."

His thumbs swirled around the outside of her areolas, teasing the hell out of her.

Finally, with another sound of tearing fabric, she realized her shirt had ripped. Her full breasts pulled her forward from the added weight, and she moaned.

They had never felt this engorged before, let alone so full. She caught sight of them in the mirror. Where she had already been a well-endowed double G cup before, she doubted her old bras would even cover her nipples anymore. The massive mounds had deep blue veins that throbbed near her nipples, and her breasts would have filled her entire lap had Ben not been supporting them.

"God, I wanna put babies in you so bad..."

Her underwear soaked at the suggestion. The idea of being impregnated by him right now made Anya burn with desire.

His touches were agonizingly arousing, and her teats begged for release.

Release?

Finally, Ben squeezed at her nipples playfully, and she realized what had been happening. Two hot spurts of milk showered his face. Anya moaned with pleasure and from the relief; holy fuck, it felt good!

Ben let her breasts go, once again causing her to lurch forward a bit. They swayed, sloshing the gallons of milk that had come out of nowhere. He knelt down so her teats were at eye level before pulling the nursing bra down to reveal her puffy nipples. Steady streams of milk leaked from them, and she begged him internally to lap it up.

But that wasn't the only thing her body needed at the moment, was it?

She stared down at him needily. "B-Ben?"

He looked up, a small smile on his face. "Yeah?"

Anya unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs. "I need you to fuck me. Like... right now."

-----

🐮❤️

#breast expansion #lactation kink tw #tw lactation kink #massive breasts #smut #huge natural melons #huge cleavage #mommy milkers #big tiddy committee #writing

[luveline]

Hi jade, I have a hurt/comfort request for Steve, maybe reader was there with the party for all the vecna stuff and maybe gets hurt, afterwards Steve taking care of her and staying w her in the hospital and stuff? Love your writing!

thank you for requesting <3 fem!reader

“Did you know there’s like, a concessions stand?” 

You moan at the pain between your shoulders, turning onto your arm. Steve lounges in the chair beside you with a paper plate of donuts on his chest. His legs are kicked up on your bed. He’s taken his shoes off, at least. 

“Free donuts, coffee, they even had flapjacks.” 

“Steve, I think you have to pay for those.” 

He puts the plate on your bed. “Well, they can’t send you to jail.” 

“‘Cos my back’s broken?” 

“‘Cos you’re too pretty for prison.” Steve sits up properly. “You need help?” 

He moves the donuts again onto your nightstand and hooks you under the arms to ease you into a sitting position. You’re back isn’t broken, for the record, but you fell funny coming out of the gate a few days ago and you haven’t bounced back yet. Worse, you've got an infected burn on your hand, wrist and arm from your Molotov cocktail. It’s out of commission, as are you while they pump antibiotics into the crook of your elbow. Steve’s careful not to tug your IV. 

You gasp, the twinge in your back turning to flame. “I know,” Steve murmurs, shockingly sincere, “I’m sorry. You’re not supposed to lie down all the time, or it won’t get better.” 

“I know.” 

“Yeah, of course you do. You know everything.” 

Insult or compliment, you’re unsure. What you do know is that Steve’s come to see you every day since you were checked in, he’s the one who checked you in, and he’s taken good care of you so far. He’s not even your boyfriend, you thought he liked Nancy— but he’s rubbing his hands down your shoulders and looking you in your face despite the horror he’s sure to be witnessing. Bruised eye, greasy nose, hair thankfully clean but completely untouched otherwise. 

“Better?” he asks, cupping your cheek. 

Is he gonna kiss me? you think. You glance down at his lips, then back up. Steve doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it, his fingers drawing a gentle path behind your ear as his thumb aligns with your jaw. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Sorry, you just looked so sad for a second.” He laughs wryly. Though you don’t feel like he’s making fun of you, he teases, “Cheer up. What have you got to be so sad about?” 

“You keep harassing me.” 

“Oh, that’s how it is!” He tips his head back. “Nurse! I’d like to report a thief!” 

You gasp, laugh, and attempt to cover his mouth as strikes of pain nibble up your spine. “Steve, don’t–” He catches your hands to stop you from silencing him, but he doesn’t shout again, holding your hands together in his lap, smiling smugly and affectionately at once. He has nice eyes that are almost almond in shape and a lovely light brown. They glow in the slither of light that sneaks its way through the blinds, raw amber, stomach-achingly pretty. 

You can’t look at him for too long. You defer to your hands scrunched up in the sheets instead. 

“I did pay for the donuts, by the way. I’m just messing with you.” 

You try to laugh. “Why doesn't that surprise me?” 

“You act like I’m such a jerk,” he says fondly, pulling you in for a cautious hug. He’s tender when he needs to be, you’d never have thought it of him, how sweetly and softly he rubs your back, how he murmurs near your ear. “Do you need more meds? I’m sure they can get you another dose of the good stuff if you pretend your gummy arm is aching.” 

“Thanks, Steve, but I’m fine.” 

He hums. “Think I can get them to let me stay the night?” 

“Steve, I’m really okay.” 

“It’s not about you, I just don’t wanna go home,” he lies poorly, “they don’t have donuts at home–”

His hand leaves your back. “Are you eating over my shoulder?” you ask. 

He hugs you tighter with the remaining arm. “What? No.” 

You feel sprinkles falling down your back and ignore it for now. He’ll have to help you out of bed in a few minutes anyways. He can sort it out then. For now, you lean into his chest and close your eyes tight. 

“I’ll sleep better in the chair by your bed,” he promises. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[theblueflower05]

You Get Me So High

Drabble in the First Love/Late Spring series

A/N: A little bit of a filler- I just wanted an excuse to fit this little scene into this story. It didn't fit in the last part but I loved it too much to let it go.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: FLUFF(I know we’re all surprised, but I need a break from the angst) Minors can interact with this one. PG-13 forsure.

Summary: You unearth a gift that you forgot to give your mate. A small peek into You and Neteyam’s slow mornings. Domestic bliss and herbal tea flavored kisses. Neteyam x Reader

If you want to catch up on how we got here, here's the Series Masterlist

Previous&lt;: Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea

The morning eclipse washes over Awa’atlu, drenching it in the striking colors of the peaking sun. The sea glitters, awake before the village. Never ceasing its constant, rhythmic movement even as the people still lay dormant, tucked in tight with their loved ones.

Your status in the clan and the duties that came with it had always forced you into being an early riser, though there is nothing you loved more than digging yourself deep into your bed and slumbering for as long as possible.

You loved being comfy, feeling safe. Got stuck in behind your eyelids, in that hazy peace that only moments before the dawn could bring. Many times Ronal had dragged you from the family Mauri, huffing about the late hour and fretting with your unruly hair.

You don't wake to the hustle and bustle of your childhood home anymore.

It had been that way for the past month or so. Fertility Season had come and gone, and you and Neteyam had spent the time after adjusting to the new normal.

Both of you had grown up in loud, full homes. Surrounded by family, never a moment of quiet to be found. The still silence in your shared Mauri had been a bit unnerving at first. It was just the two of you in these walls after all.

Now though, you craved these moments. They felt private and sacred as you and Neteyam prepared for the day, for the long hours usually chalked full of duties that would keep you busy and separated.

Your mate is a man of routine, you’d picked up on the fact quickly.

He woke as soon as light begin to dance in the many sun catchers and wind chimes that littered the entrance to your Pod. Once the Fkio(birds,gulls) began to squall, he was rising. Gently untangling his limbs from your own and hurrying over to the firepit to bring it back to life.

He’d open all of the blinds to let the air in, the salty ocean breeze filling the space with a freshness that could only come with a new day.

Then comes washing up, changing into a clean tweng and re-adorning all of his jewelry, leaving the intricate battle band and layered choker for last. He liked it when you helped him fasten all of those hard-to-reach ties.

He brews strong tea in the clay pot that his mom had passed down to him. It reminds him of the ones that his grandmother had kept in her hut. Extremely detailed, crafted by an Omaticaya Ceramist. Jade green in color, jungle flowers etched into its sides.

Neteyam lets you get your fill of slumber. Enjoys watching you as you doze, curled up on the bed mat. Your features loose and lost to dreams, occasionally tensing with off scrunches or your nose or twitches of your ears. It’s only when the sun reaches a certain place in the sky that he goes to wake you. Knowing he can wait no longer before you’re late.

You love to sleep, but you absolutely hate being late.

His difficult little munxtate(wife).

He’s so gentle, every time.

Rousing you with soft touches and hums right into your skin. Even before you’re fully coherent you reach for him, greedy fingers. Pursed lips.

The piping hot tea is energizing, you nurse your cup as you go through your own little patterns.

Neteyam knows, now, that you are not particularly chatty until you’ve fully woken up. He doesn't mind the comfortable quiet, busies himself with cleaning his riding gear, readying for a day of patrolling and hunting.

You prepare a quick breakfast before bathing and dressing. Easily clocking the way Neteyam’s amber gaze fixes on your hips when you shimmy into your skirt. Reach behind yourself to twine the strings around your tail. Heat blooms across your cheeks, it’s too early for him to look at you like that. He grins when you roll your eyes and mutter something that sounds a lot like “insatiable skxawng”

The two of you have been working on getting everything organized, and the Mauri is finally coming together. Homey and colorful, filled with little trinkets and pieces of both of your cultures. You were still working on cataloging your wardrobe, untangling the many dangling tops and layered necklaces- it was a pain and you really needed to make time to get it done.

So focused on getting your herbs straightened, prioritizing assisting your heavily pregnant Aunt with healer’s errands that you’d honestly put it off.

It’s your own fault that you need to untangle the top you want to wear from various other pieces of jewelry. You can't be frustrated with anyone but yourself, you fingers work at the knots until you free the article of clothing.

You’re working the crocheted straps over your shoulders when it catches your eye.

Gleams in a beam of sunlight that streams in from the opened windows.

A low gasp escapes you as you reach for it fast.

Between the emotional chaos that had come with the misunderstanding between yourself, Neteyam and Seychelle and then haze of Fertility Season, you’d forgotten.

In the quick paced move into the new Mauri- it had been lost, buried in the messy overfilled baskets of your belongings.

It’s the armband that you’d made for Neteyam.

You enjoy making jewelry, liked the way it kept your hands from being idle. Could string delicate shells into a multitude of necklaces and bracelets and hairpieces that made good gifts for family and friends. There were villagers with more talent than you at the craft, sure, but you thought your creations were pretty enough.

This particular piece had given you a run for your money.

You'd wanted to make something that would remind him of home but the jewelry that the Sully’s wore were extremely intricate, daunting to even look at. The Omiticaya are known for their weaving skills after all.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You’d enlisted the youngest Sully to help you, a bit too shy to share the planned project with anyone else. Tuk loved crafting, frequently giving her creations to any and everyone. She had been thrilled when you approached her, practically shaking with excitement when you promised to take her out to the distant sandbars by Ilu back in exchange for her help.

Omiticayan patterns are hard to master, complex and layered. Leather isn't a medium you usually worked with and your fingers had felt clumsy as you’d attempted the multi strand braiding.

Tuk is patient and friendly. A brilliant teacher even at her young age. She’d spent hours tucked away on that private beach with you. Chattering excitedly as you began to pick it up and the band starts to take shape.

“Who’re you making it for?” She’d questioned, pressing in that innocent, instant way that only a child could “I don't see anyone here wear jewelry like this, it's all so different from back home”

“Just for a friend” You’d paused for a moment, staring down at your slow working fingers. “I think these designs are beautiful, you’ll have to help me make more. I want an anklet just like yours”

She’d beamed, happy to show off the dangling jewels on her feet. She’d made it herself! She could make you one to match, easy!

Only when the horns had sounded, dinner going to start soon, did the two of you gather your belongings and head back in. Tuk had told her parents she would be with you, Jake and Neytiri had deemed you responsible enough to get her back safely. You wouldn't disappoint.

“I hope your friend likes it, Y/N! See ya tomorrow! Don’t be late- you promised we’d race to the sandbar! You can't go back on a promise!” She’d called to you as you’d reached the village, running off in a flurry. Energetic as ever.

“I would never! Get ready to lose, Tuktirey!”

Her twinkling laugh all the response she’d given you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You’d worked so hard on the band. Meticulously incorporated pieces of shells into the leather. Turquoise, carnelian and topaz toned, to match the beads of Neteyam's choker. The shells were hard to find, but you’d scoured the shore for days, discarding the ones that weren't the right color.

A large blush colored pearl hangs from the center, the patterns of the banding circling it in delicate loops.

You run your fingers over it, recalling how much hard work you’d put into it. How many hours you’d spend having to undo and we braid the patterns-

You plop down next to your mate, near the fire. Legs criss crossed neatly and an eager smile on your face. Clutching something hidden in your fist.

“What?” Neteyam wonders as he eats his breakfast. He’d quickly become fond of the milky sweet rice and fruit that you made in the mornings, he shovels it eagerly into his mouth every time.

“I have a present for you”

That was the last thing he was expecting to hear. His eyebrows raise and his tail flicks, interested, behind him.

“Really?” he speaks with his mouth still full. He’s endearing, even when he’s gross.

“Yes, I am very late. I meant to give it to you long ago. But with the move and everything else it got lost. So lost, you’ve seen the chest where I keep my clothing. It really is a mess” you wave your free hand in the air, gesturing almost wildly as you ramble”- ugh. I forgot, I truly did”

He waits patiently throughout your little special, a small smile on his lips.

“You didn't need to get me anything…” he says, but you can see the concealed intrigue in his eyes. Dare you say it was excitement?

You're a bit nervous as you open your hand, revealing the contents inside, resting against your palm. Holding it out to him in offering. “I wanted to. Here, I really hope you like it”

Neteyam takes the armband between his thin fingers, brings it close to his face to inspect it. The whole time your heart races wildly and you stare at him for any inclination that he might not like it-

“Did you make this?”

“I did” you nod.

“But it’s- it’s Omiticayan design? How did you do this?”

“Oh, I know. It’s why it’s a little bit rough- I’d never made anything like it before. But Tuk was tons of help! She pretty much walked me through it all. We did it months ago but like I told you, I misplaced it”

Neteyam continues to stare at it, his eyes swimming with emotion. He runs his thumb along the weaved leather, over and over again. “The pearl?..”

“The one you found at the beach, in the clam, remember? You gave it to me but I wanted you to be able to keep it. I wasn't lying when I said they’re good luck when they’re that big”

His eyes go from the gift in his hand, meet yours instead. They’re shining. Happy, clearly and a grin breaks out across your face, able to read the wordless que's.

“Get over here” Neteyam reaches for you, hand cupping your face as he clutches you to him, almost right into his empty lap. Claims your willing lips with his own.

The kisses are smothering, consistent little pecking that makes you gasp. He tastes like creamy rice and sweet Yovo- you can feel his canines as he grin. Your hands tangle into his braids, clutching him right back. Your stomach flip flopping with the sheer joy of it all.

“You like?” you’re muffled by his lips, speak the question into his mouth.

“I” kiss “Love” kiss “It”

He doesn't bother to pull away until he's kissed you stupid. Long and thorough. Your head is spinning and theres butterflies erupting in your chest. Your lips feel a bit raw as you pant and lean against him heavily.

“I can't believe you took the time to do this. You are the sweetest, you know. So sweet to me I don't even know what to do with you” He beams and your heart skips one beat. And then two. His smile is a bright thing, his front teeth just a bit longer then the rest-

You hope your children look like him. You wish you could have seen him as a little one.

You caress his face, knuckling lightly at his cheeks. Watching, your hindbrain lighting up, as he slips the band up his arm until it sits snug around his bulging bicep, secured tight.

It looks so good.

You have the urge to make him endless ornaments. Maybe you'll start something for his hair? You could probably find feathers similar to the ones he wore now...

Everytime you think that you couldn't possibly get any happier, you do. You think that you might float away one day- filled to the brim with all of the buoyant love you have for him.

“Thank you, really Y/N. I-” his voice wavers a bit as your nose rubs against his. You’re content like this, in his lap. Pressed in close with your lover. “I don't know how I lived so many years without you. You bring me joy I didn't know existed”

His words echo your frequent thoughts.

The morning is soft and syrupy slow, like all mornings spent with your mate.

Waking up early did have its perks, after all.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

So Neteyam’s sisters X Y/N are some of my favorite dynamics. I can’t wait to write more Tuk & Kiri.

I got some asks after Part Three and I was like ohhhh no, everyone thinks they’re toxic but they’re really not lol they just need to learn how to not be idiots and communicate with each other.

Can we talk about how Y/N's love language is offering her self up to Neteyam on a silver plate? I'm pretty sure that could be translated to Gift Giving.

I’m thinking about doing a little filler/drabble like this every few chapters as a kind of pallet cleanser? There’s just so much about this world and these characters that I want to share with you all.

Also mango sticky rice is my absolute favorite and I’m a green tea girly. Of course I had to incorporate them somewhere😂

What are some of your favorite things that you’d like to see in this universe? Let me know!

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fluff #neteyam x metkayina!reader

[seahagart]

Sorry if you already answered this but who is Drifa's goddess?

She worships the goddess of wilderness (nothing canon in game) Basically since she's a paladin and paladin's follow an oath rather than picking a pantheon at the start, i thought it'd be interesting if her oath is to her temple, she was the protector of her temple for the past 15+ years which is dedicated to the Lady of Frost, Goddess of the Wilds, Maiden of Snow. Essentially goddess of the wilderness, snow, and survival.

Huge Drífa lore dump under the cut.

She was left at the temple while all of the other members slowly left, one by one, when their godess called to them to do so. Each one that left has never returned. Eventually the guardian of the temple passed, leaving Drífa to wait her turn and keep the temple until her goddess instructs her otherwise. She has waited for a long time... Eventually she stopped keeping track of how much time passed, and fell into routine.

Drífa appreciates nature, but in a 'respect what could kill you' way. She does not love animals because they're cute and fuzzy, she appreciates them because of their tenacity, and their skills. She worships the circle of life, that the strong live while the weak perish, and it is her duty to protect this. Meaning hunting is normal, but to kill for the sake of killing is deplorable. It is her duty to keep the shrine, make offerings to her goddess, and protect the way of life on the mountain. Hunters who come to collect for their food on the mountain are fine, but outsiders who come into her territory to take more than they give are dealt with.

She is cold, ruthless, territorial, but she is also kind, gentle, giving. Drífa can't help herself sometimes. She takes in a hunter who should be facing the consequences of his grave miscalculation aka he didn't respect the mountain and should freeze or figure a way out... but she gives him shelter. She should just kill the bear that keeps taking the food from her traps, and she curses it plenty, but it was a brutal winter, she sees the bear has cubs, so she lets it take her prize when she shouldn't.

When Drífa has her child, she sees this as a gift from her goddess, her next lesson in survival. Raising young. Drífa softens even more. She would not think about putting something out of its misery, or striking if it meant she will have food... But now she has a boy who loves birds and pleads with her to help it. So she does. Then its the fox still alive in her trap, she has a soft spot for foxes as she likes them for their cleverness, so she nurses it back to health when she knows she shouldnt. She gives more time to her child and neglects the offerings, the shrine, and soon is too focused on playing with her child she doesn't hear the footsteps in the snow. They are attacked, her child is separated from her, and ultimately is never recovered. She spends weeks searching only to find scraps and blood. She returns, heart broken, and brings swift death to those who did this, the warriors that moved into her shrine while she was gone. All of them are put outside as a warning to those that enter her territory. She never sees other people after this. She knows this was a punishment from her goddess, she was losing sight of her duty as the temple keeper, she wasn't respecting her place in the world, and now had to survive the worst: grief. She decided she would overcome this, just like everything else, and would survive because that's what she is meant to do.

She is taken from her mountain by the nautliod, her temple crushed and destroyed. She believes this is the sign from her goddess, forcing her to leave the mountain and pursue her next step. Eventually she is with others for the first time in years, and she sees this as a sign that she is meant to be with them, protect this group, until she can figure out what her goddess is telling her. Drífa slowly gets more socialized, learns more common, talks more, but remains the quiet, stoic presence in the party. She is starting to wonder if her goddess is punishing her because these people have so many problems.... She continues on, helping where she sees fit.

Eventually as part of her quest line, she is reunited with her son who was saved by some 'do gooders' aka saw a battered young boy in the snow and took him, not realizing mama bear was on her way to get him. They took him many villages over so Drífa couldn't track him, and eventually her son gets better, and after a few years begins his own quest to find his way back to the mountain and find his mom to see if she's alive. After much searching, he hears about a big orc in town, and he thinks maybe it could be a lead, so he shows up to demand answers, ready to do whatever it takes, only to have his bow pointed at his mom. It takes them a moment to recognize each other, but obviously after that they have a beautiful reunion. Drífa thanks her goddess, because clearly this was a reward for her well done work, and because she learned her lesson, etc.

Now the party members get to find out that mama bear is actually a mom and has a son and if they romance her, they will be a step-parent... lol

#drífa #bg3 #thank you for the ask btw!!!

[katyahina]

Burial Blade and Blade of Mercy are made out of meteorite, but WHY? Inspiration and context behind them (+ the source of snake infestation)

This one is a reply on ask from @bobbyzombiegg that I decided to put here because I really keep forgetting to use THIS blog for lore and not my personal/shitposts one...

I know, and this is such a good observation! I am glad that you've noticed what else connects Burial Blade and Blade of Mercy! Even better - whereas Burial Blade severs the ties of a person with the Dream, Blade of Mercy, in a way, helps to create it!

The interesting thing about these blades is that, of course, they must have been created before the conception of the Hunter's Dream! It makes it oddly coincidental that both weapons are useful for the cycle of Dream and Hunt, doesn't it? Blade of Mercy is at least believed to contribute to this as of now; the more we hunt the more messengers get added in the Hunter's Dream, so, perhaps, Blade of Mercy is not necessary! My personal interpretation of this is as Paleblood Hunter, our character has the privilege otherwise special for these weapons! Regardless of which weapon they use, they can send those they killed to be messengers (or add them in the cycle of the hunt, like how Henryk or Yamamura will become summonable after we kill them)!

Still, it starts to look like too much was planned ahead? Blade of Mercy said to be made in an old workshop would imply Old Hunters, likely created by Gehrman himself, from the same material as his own weapon! But I think the answer here is that Messengers, something akin to Hunter's Dream and similar weapons existed since Pthumerian times!

Starting with the weapons observation here! Pthumerian Descendant, interestingly, displays the similar style of transforming their blade into two same as how Blade of Mercy does it! Meanwhile, Gehrman's blade is fashioned similarly to Mergo's Wet Nurse's blades! In isolation, I would not think this means anything.. but crows, according to Hunters of Hunters lore, ARE connected with taking the souls and passing them into Dream realm, which is also Nightmare realm!

(Link to my other post explaining why Vilebloods descend from Pthumerians ( x ) in case someone who doesn't know already finds this post)

Wet Nurse herself is very bird-like (crow-like, specifically), and very coincidentally, Baneful Chanters pray to those who "have no blood" as those who'd have enough power to curse the hunters (which is to ensure they go in the Nightmare realm). Wet Nurse not only coincidentally fuels at least one section of Nightmare by nurturing Mergo, the center of it, but also, Nightmare realm has Winter Lanterns whose heads are made of Messengers!

So we have: Wet Nurse already being quite Pthumerian with her accessories and fighting style, Pthumerians and their descendants (down to Cainhurst!) honoring symbolism of crows, Yharnam (a city named after Queen Yharnam, after all) having depiction of BIRD-like Messenger in its oldest part, superstition about crows taking souls of the murdered in Hunter's Dream, people praying to "bloodless ones" to take the souls into Nightmare instead + evidence of it happening with Winter Lanterns.. In my opinion it is fair to assume that the weapons Gehrman created had a pre-existing inspiration and their similarity to pre-existing Pthumerian weapons is not coincidental!

Alright, first - I want a Bloodborne prequel where I could make a Pthumerian Paleblood Hunter. Second, as you can see, concept of the Messengers, the "Hunter" symbol/rune (depiction of the hanged man of course), and even the MOONLIGHT Sword were a thing since Pthumerian times! (It is safe to assume Ludwig found this sword somewhere in the Dungeons, as obtaining Radiant Sword Hunter badge is what lets you buy Tomb Prospector set!)

^ The note already mentioning Laurence associating with Moon Presence, THE Great One of the Hunt and the Dream, is found in Byrgenwerth already! Basically? Without maybe predicting that he would be trapped in the Hunter's Dream one day, Gehrman already knew what he was doing with the weapons.

Conclusion: there was the clear idea in mind! Blade of Mercy, intended to kill people from the start, immortalises the hunters as the HUNTERS and brings them in "Heaven" of Moon Presence, before they turned into beasts, whereas Burial Blade, initially intended for hunting everyone that was no longer human (for example, poor Fish People), ensures they, on the contrary, never go to "Heaven". What later serves to sever a Hunter from the Hunter's Dream initially intended to sever non-humans from it, in a way sentensing them to "Hell". :) Gehrman is a fun person.

+ Also some bonus observations regarding the topic of Yharnamites still continuing Pthumerian traditions, likely brought back because of Byrgenwerth, and then Healing Church, diving into dungeons:

(Context for those that didn't play Bloodborne because Sony hates you and you in particular: both this trap in the dungeons and this bath in Yahar'gul warp you in another area, connected by the circle of candles)

Forbidden Woods, surrounding Byrgenwerth, are full of formations that resemble the Tonsil Stone very much! However, when you examine the woods, you will see that sometimes there are body parts near these "heads"! This could be another case of petrification upon strong arcane impact, similarly to petrified body of Rom near Ebrietas, to petrified bodies of other Kin in Upper Cathedrals covered by fabric, bodies of victims in Yahar'gul, all that!

Were they people living in the woods that started to turn into Kin (like Garden of Eyes that are also found in Byrgenwerth) but didn't live until petrification, or were they baby Great Ones born only to instantly die? I am not sure. Both can work.

But, snakes are an interesting clue here. Besides Forbidden Woods, they are only also found in Hintertombs - a dumping ground for corpses of Pthumeru Ihyll that became venomous! Forgotten Madman, who is a former Choir member as he uses A Call Beyond, is found in these dungeons + getting Cosmic Watcher Badge is what lets you buy Poisonous Knife. Doesn't it look strange for Choir members to pick so much interest in this? Snake infestation might be a strange result of burying cosmic Kin in the ground, a corruption of what would normally be a process of multiple parasites/phantasms settling in a corpse of a cosmic being, OR someone affiliated with one! We do have precedents:

Cosmic creatures, "downgraded" and "filthied", becoming something eartly instead, such as snakes! One of them was able to raise human children (Madaras twins), so sure they are unusual!

So, what I am trying to say is, it is possible that Tonsil Stone is a result of burial of a dead (and rapidly petrifying) cosmic Kin, one that was yet not rotted like what we see in Forbidden Woods! Maybe even more directly so, it is a petrified skull of a cosmic Kin, most likely of Amygdala's kind, and a "meteorite" in the sense of them coming from space! So, creating weapons both of which are connected with burial ritual from the buried Kin is appropriate! This or similar technology maybe also was discovered by Pthumerians long ago, so examining Hintertombs was a great help with figuring what material to use for Burial Blade and Blade of Mercy!

^ These disturbing dead cosmic Kin fetuses are found in Byrgenwerth in two forms: one depicts a petrified corpse, something we already knows happens with Kin, such as Rom and eldrich creatures in Upper Cathedral. Another is dead, rotting, showing horns, and has multiple tiny skulls on its head! The latter one gets my point about corpses of Kin, or maybe anyone touched by Kin, sprouting smaller life forms from within. People infected by snake virus sprout several snakes from their heads, rather than turning into a snake or something!

It is entirely possible that Byrgenwerth used to bury creatures like this in the grounds around the college, and that those gigantic graves in Forbidden Woods were for much larger Great Ones: "Hunt the Great Ones. Hunt the Great Ones." note is found in Byrgenwerth as well! They might have been able to resist the full rotting that results into snakes due to their size and development, hence their graves still show sluggish phantasms. Burying other ones, on the other hand, was a big mistake. Or, should I say.... a GRAVE mista- *gets sniped*

_________________________________

These are my thoughts on the topic! You kinda got two theories at the price of one here, but snake infestation was somewhat relevant in the context of burial and my idea of what IS this "meteorite"! Thank you so much for prompting me to tie this theory together at last!!

#bloodborne #bloodborne theory #gehrman the first hunter #pthumerians #long post #not art #text post #bloodborne reference #screenshots #damn two years later I've found a proper answer on snake infestation situation... #too bad that an ex mutual will never see it now they sent me an ask about it and back then my answer was unsatisfying #why I figure this obvious shit so late..... sigh

[ch6douin]

I’m glad you liked my drunk player showering plushies with kiss kiss ideas. Now i give you one more before I disappear into the night. Plushies giving player a “kiss” (just the plushies smooshing their face on players face, maybe even a hand kiss of its a more gentlemanly plush, jose plush I feel, most of the hunter plushes, maybe frederick, so many possibilities)

Andrew happening to walk by before noticing you kneeling down before his plushie self, he hides himself to watch this interaction. Andrew plushie keeps motioning the player forward as if to tell them a secret. And as players face is right there, it hesitates before summoning all the strength its little plush body has, and “kisses” you on the cheek. Startled, player moves back, before probably giving a gentle laugh and giving plush Andrew a lil forehead kiss. Andrew is kept awake at night by this, especially by player’s reaction.

Naib’s plush gives gnight kiss kiss. I imagine Naib, who’s probably still wary, would probably always be having an eye on player, so he doesn’t trust the plushie either; just cause its ugly in a cute way (kinda) doesn’t meant it doesn’t have malicious plans. Even if the player isn’t responsible for the game, they could still possibly be apart of the reason they arent able to leave. Still probably witnessing a peacefully sleeping player and Naib’s plush giving them a lil “kiss” on the lips has him stone faced but the red is starting to appear on his cheeks and tips of his ears, each time he witnesses it he gets a bit more relaxed cause players not doing anything suspicious. Still probably suspicious tho.

Emil and ada’s plushies give each other kisses. Player is often awing at the way they express their love to each other. They probably dont kiss player much but will take players hands to give player little finger kisses. These two plushs are one of the few that hang out with their survivor selfs a bit more than hanging around player. They melt ada and emils hearts everytime they see them.

Mikes plush does a LOT. Fucking plush will be on like a chandelier and player is speaking to another when suddenly the plush has jumped and done smooshed its face to player. It gives player a heart attack every time which is why its not done often. He probably will just jump on player relaxing to give a lil cheek kiss before back flipping away. Mike is both trying to stop it but also giving it more ideas.

Soul weaver plush is also kinda like mike in giving player a lil kiss in a big way. Im talking this lil plush can spit webs. Why? Because I said so. So players gonna get some web spit kisses at the most random times. Plush weaver can and will climb on you to perch on your shoulder just for a better angle to give you some regular kiss kiss or another wen spit kiss. Soul weaver herself is pretty bashful about it and plush weaver is given a stern talking to by her for every incident.

Enjoy my brain dump hope you like this one too

Thank you anon this is adorable you have my mind working with these. (Plushie!Andrew having more game than the actual Andrew is SO FUNNY btw.)

Not all of their plushies express their adoration towards player only by kisses though, Plush!Norton is often gifting you pretty-looking minerals and rocks to have your attention solely on it, and then, trying to use its small magnet to pull you towards it for a cheek kiss(it doesn't work). You think that maybe its counterpart is helping behind the curtains...

Plush!Emily is always at your disposal, if it senses you're not feeling well you can bet its grabbing the edge of your clothes and trying to drag you towards the Nurse's Office so the real Emily could help you. It gives those forehead kisses like a mother would, you know?

Plush!Luca with that eternal toothy smile of it zapping you playfully and running away before you react. Until it finally gets lifted by its collar and its next move is to swing towards your face and smash its own on your cheek. Other than that, Plushie!Luca is more often seen with the actual Luca who finds the plushie so intriguing and interacts with it a lot. It's so much easier to work when he has some help.

Plush!Anne is always seen with its counterpart too, Anne is so pleased to have this adorable company that she makes an exact copy of her glider and a catapult. You can see it gliding around often, dropping by your shoulder sometimes and giving the tiniest kiss to your cheek before gliding away as fast as it can.

Plush!Edgar is not really what you could call social, but its curiosity is piqued whenever you do something that involves art. This is when you see it at the most, demanding you put it on your lap or a nearby chair so it can tug at your clothes whenever it considers you're doing something wrong. Edgar checks his plushie now and then, after all, it cannot taint his reputation while using his face. It's not surprising though that Plushie!Edgar is just like his counterpart when guiding you through the process of making art, and that leaves Edgar with a satisfied smile. No, I don't think it would kiss you, let it be enough that you earned its attention.

Plush!Frederick is anywhere music is, walking around with elegance that a few plushies lack. It will seek you out though so the two of you can appreciate the beauty of music, and then, thank you with a kiss on the back of your hand. I'm not sure but I don't think it stays a lot with Frederick, so you won't see them together a lot.

Plush!Mary is hard to please, of course. She still likes to assert the composure of a Queen. Share with her desserts, dance with her, gift her cute ribbons and other accessories, and maybe, just maybe she'll kiss you.

PS: I was going to put Tracy or Martha too but i got lazy at the end plus I didn't know exactly what to write 💀

#idvselfaware #self aware au #asks #idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv composer #idv painter #idv bloody queen #idv doctor #idv prisoner #idv prospector #idv toy merchant