#but yeah here’s a touch of path a! some things may be apparent now but it’s meant to be a littleeee confusing at this point

[turtleblogatlast]

AU starts here!

Previous |

Here we have just a taste of Path A - also known as “All Together Now.” If you’re confused - good! Things will make sense in time, trust me.

#prison!leo au #path a #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt au #rottmnt leo #I considered coloring everyone in and shading them but then I decided I liked it better like this tbh? #and also I’m LAZY #but yeah here’s a touch of path a! some things may be apparent now but it’s meant to be a littleeee confusing at this point #odds are I’m gonna see stuff I wanna change when I look back on this so if you see little changes here and there No You Didn’t #I MAY go back and put in values but again I kinda like it just black and white for once #BUT YEAH this path is TECHNICALLY the happiest one #it starts the exact same way as the other two #but ~something~ happens right at the start #turtle art tag #there’s a bunch of little things strewn throughout this if people are feeling detective-y today

[bubblybloob]

Wrote a thing for the voices, based on this

The Paranoid let out an indignant noise when he was unceremoniously dropped into the Hunted’s nest for the second time that day.

“How was the bathroom?” The Broken allowed a rare smile to crack onto his face.

“Oh fuck off.” The Paranoid huffed, ears flicking in irritation.

The Hunted had come to the less than logical conclusion that because The Paranoid had plucked most of his wings’ feathers, and because The Broken had no wings to begin with, that the chill of the winter air would kill them. So he took it upon himself to kidnap them, lock them both in his room, and force them to sit in his nest of blankets and pillow.

“How long?” “Until spring.”

Yeah, fuck that.

The Paranoid had already made an escape attempt, by asking if he could use the restroom. He had hoped that he could hide the rest of the day until The Hunted got it all out of his system.

Unfortunately, while reading a book to pass the time, The Paranoid heard quite the commotion happening elsewhere in the living room that he couldn’t see. Eventually, a frazzled looking avian overturned the couch he was hiding behind. The Hunted let out a quick sigh of relief before throwing The Paranoid over his shoulder, like one would a sack of potatoes.

They passed the Opportunist on their way back, who was in awe of the apparent wreckage the Hunted had caused in his mad search. The Paranoid gave him a pleading look, but just as the Opportunist opened his mouth the Hunted sharply turned with a scalding glare. He’d never before seen the Opportunist shut himself up quite so quickly.

“Don’t do that again.” The Hunted said in that clipped way he often did.

“Why should I even bother? The others will catch on and won’t let it continue.” The Paranoid replied, flopping forward, face falling into a pillow. “All you’re really doing is delaying the inevitable, they’ll get us out of here eventually.”

“They can try, I won’t let them.” The Hunted clicked, nestling between the two.

The Paranoid looked up, a disbelieving look on his face. “There are nine of them and one of you! What do you mean you ‘won’t let them’?”

The Hunted gave a small shrug as he spread his wings to cover the two prisoners. “You’ll see, if it comes down to it.”

The Paranoid tried to ignore the shiver that traveled up his spine.

“You should just accept it, we’re not getting out of this, not anytime soon at least. May as well enjoy it.” Broken suggested, snuggling deeper into the sea of blankets.

“I don’t see why you’re so okay with this.” The Paranoid returned.

“Well,” The Broken started, “it’s warm, it’s comfortable, we’re cared for, what more could one want?”

“A choice?”

“Choices hurt us.”

“Choices freed us.”

The Hunted flapped his wings, earning sounds of startle from the two flightless avians. “No arguing about the past. Go to sleep.”

“Is this some lousy attempt to get us to hibernate? Birds don’t do that.” The Paranoid pointed out.

The Hunted’s bigger, much healthier wing pressed down onto him, it was warm and its touch was strangely comforting despite its messy feel from the Hunted’s recent treasure hunt. “Some do, on special occasion.”

“Does this count as ‘special occasion’?”

“Yes.”

“We have a house.”

“Go to sleep.”

“An insulated, warm house.”

“Go to sleep.”

The Paranoid let out a defeated sigh, it was pointless arguing with their instinct, because instinct had a funny habit of steamrolling all in its path. He wiggled his lower half into the forest of blankets and pillows; if he was going to be stuck here then he was going to at least try to relax. He laid his heavy head on his crossed arms, just as the Broken brought a pillow to his chest.

“Maybe choices did make things better, in the end, but right now you might benefit from not thinking too hard.” The Broken softly proposed.

“Yeah yeah.” Was his response.

—

The Hunted sat up, as slowly as he could as to not disturb the two he’d placed under his care.

He saw the Broken giving in easily, but he didn’t anticipate he’d be able to get the Paranoid to sleep, not with his jumpy nature, that presented itself even within his dreams.

They both needed preening, he thought. The Broken never took care of himself properly, always ignoring layers of dirt stuck under plumage, and bent, broken feathers that likely stuck into him like needles. The Paranoid didn’t fair much better with the depressing state he’d rendered his wings to, the feathers had been plucked so thoroughly that flying was an impossibility.

The Hunted ran his clawed fingers through both of their feathers, cooing when they both let out pleased, sleepy hums.

“Hey, what’s going on-“ The Hunted whipped his head around so fast that one might think he snapped his neck. He gave the Opportunist, who had just casually walked into his den without permission, a chilling stare. A rattle started up in his throat, promising death.

“Whoa! Holy- calm down!” The Opportunist shouted, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Leave.” The Hunted growled.

“Don’t have to ask me twice! I was just worried, you know? With the whole-“

“Go.”

“Yes, right, going now, doing that, as we speak.”

The Hunted didn’t calm even as the door clicked shut, only allowing his feathers to relax after clawed footsteps faded away.

He could blockade the door later, right now he had some preening to do.

#slay the princess #stp voices #voice of the hunted #voice of the broken #voice of the paranoid #voice of the opportunist

[zprites]

Do You Ever Really Know? - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 is now up! <3

Summary: After deciding to find a way to reverse the effects of the collider explosion, Jonathan Ohnn (now going by 'The Spot') had set out to find a dimension where there was no Spider-Person. However his plans get foiled almost immediately by someone who shouldn't even exist in that universe. Who was this 'Spider Lily', and why did she want to help him? And why can't he get her out of his head?

Only warnings are eventual smut in the final chapter and brief mentions of death and a destruction of a universe. Also fair warning, these two flirt, A LOT.

Enjoy!

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Also Available on Ao3

Chapter 2 - Anamorphosis

There were some things about Earth-9210 that were different from his home dimension. As soon as Jonathan traveled through the portal he was immediately aware that the sky here was a rich lavender rather than the blue he was accustomed to. 

There also seemed to be quite a few vigilantes roaming the streets if the numerous conversations he happened to overhear were anything to go by. Like the group of teenage girls giggling as he passed by them inconspicuously, gushing about some guy in a red and black suit who saved a cat from a tree before proceeding to blow up a vehicle carrying a massive amount of drugs, killing everyone inside. 

And that didn't even scratch the surface. Apparently there was an alien symbiote who ate the heads off of murderers and rapists while whispers of mutant reptiles living in the sewers occasionally circulated the news.

Thankfully he hadn’t run into any of these so-called ‘vigilantes’ yet and he planned to keep it that way. 

Now heroes on the other hand, there was one that he was dying to see again. 

He didn’t quite know what it was about that Spider-Woman but with one conversation, she had managed to make a home for herself in his head. Maybe it was the way she was the only one who treated him like a normal person since the Super-Collider explosion. Maybe it was the fact that in such a short time he felt connected to her in some way, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Or maybe it was because she reminded him so much of the woman he had a crush on thirteen years ago.

Liz... 

Last he saw on Facebook, she was happily married with a second kid on the way. Fragmented memories were all he had left - caramel brown hair that shined like fire in the sunlight, green eyes with golden rings that reminded him of summer, a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and upper cheeks, her pinky linked in his as a promise was made.

A promise to keep in touch. 

A promise that turned out to be disingenuous, as the number she gave him was a random string of digits that belonged to a middle-aged woman in Ohio. 

It wasn't that he was left heartbroken, it was just a bout of puppy love that ceased as soon as he disconnected the call. Then years later, by some twisted sense of fate, he saw her name pop up on his 'People You May Know' list and after a quick gander at her life, he promptly hit 'Remove'.

He scoffed out loud as he ambled along the barren sidewalks, the only source of light coming from the street lamps above. Just because both women partook in the most sacred of oaths didn’t mean that they were similar in any way.

“ Well believe it or not, I do like you. ”

Yeah, they were entirely different. 

He stopped in his tracks and stared up at the night sky. With all of the city lights it was almost impossible to make out the twinkling of stars yet he still searched for them, as if finding one would help him understand this feeling inside him. 

A small voice in the back of his mind told him that he knew exactly what this feeling was, he was just too scared to admit it.

With a sigh he focused his attention back to the concrete, intent on continuing on his path but stopped short when he caught a glimpse of something bright out of his periphery. He turned to look across the street at the mural decorating the brick of the building. 

Swirls of violets and pinks blended together seamlessly amidst a deep crimson. At the forefront was a near perfect illustration of this universe’s Spider-Woman, body frozen in a back flip as she shot out her webbing from fingerless gloves. 

Jonathan stood there for an unknown amount of time. A myriad of thoughts tormented him, all of them circulating back to one singular wish.

He wanted to see her again…

He wondered… Did she think about him too? If he went to that same rooftop, would she be there waiting for him? If she was, what would she do? 

There was still a small chance she meant none of what she said, that her proclamation of feeling drawn to him and flirting was all a lie. He didn't know anything about her after all. Hell, they only met a week ago. And yet...

Every fiber of his being told a different story.

“ Like I said hun, I mean what I say. ”

Before he could second guess himself, he opened up a portal in front of him and stepped through, destination clear in his mind. He allowed the portal to close behind him as he scanned the roof for any sign that she might be there. 

His heart did a somersault in his chest when his gaze landed on her. It felt as though the world around him stopped existing for a moment as something akin to hope sparked through him.

She was dressed in her spider suit, just like last time, sitting on the edge of the rooftop with her back to him. A halo of soft light originating from the adjacent windows where insomniacs thrived in the beauty of the night bathed her form, making her look like an angel. Her shoulders shook in time with the melody of her laughter that filled the stillness of the air, sending tingles along his unnatural skin. 

She was more of a siren than an angel, luring him in with an ease that would put even the most powerful of enchantresses to shame. 

“Aly, that man is more emotionally constipated than a sea sponge. He has no backbone either!"

At first he thought she was talking to him, but the confusion he felt turned into realization as he quickly understood she was on a phone call despite no device in sight. He surmised that she probably had some type of Bluetooth accessory set up inside her mask. 

"You're welcome.” She said with a hint of amusement. “But honestly, it's painfully obvious that you two like each other." 

Jonathan shifted from one foot to the other, uncertain if he should make his presence known to her. It didn’t sound like an important conversation but he didn’t want to interrupt. He also didn’t want to leave so he stayed rooted in place.

"Want to make him proud? So you see him as a father figure? Damn, putting a whole new spin on ‘daddy’." She devolved into a fit of giggles. "I kid, I kid." 

She laid back onto the asphalt of the rooftop while her legs dangled off the edge. The black lenses of her mask widened when she noticed him standing there, giving him an enthusiastic wave that caused his cheeks to flush.

“ There you are, handsome. ”  

Her gentle voice echoed inside his head as he waved back dumbly.

“ I’ll be done in a minute or two then you’ll have my undivided attention, okay? ”

He nodded as she turned her focus back to the person on the other line.

"Sorry, thought I saw someone getting mugged. You were saying?"

He waited patiently, watching as she listened intently until she spoke up in a dismissive tone. 

"I'm not really the mission type, you know this… Plus I doubt Miguel needs, let alone wants my help for anything. Although it would give me a front row seat to the soap opera that is you and Miguel."

She didn’t give them a chance to respond before she hastily said her goodbyes. “I have to go, but just know that LYLA sends me a lot more than you realize. Buh-bye now!” 

He watched as she pressed a finger to her ear, confirming his theory that her mask had Bluetooth capabilities. She then patted the spot to her left without a word, an open invitation for him to sit beside her. With timid steps he made his way over while trying to calm his nerves before sitting down, his long legs hanging off the ledge next to hers. 

“I was wondering when you were going to show up.”

He looked down at her, doing his best to not gawk too much at the way her large breasts fell to the sides. "You’ve been waiting for me?”

“More like I found myself coming up here a lot this past week.” She clarified. “Although each time I was hoping to see you here too.”

“Why though? I mean, I'm just some guy that got caught in the middle of a failed robbery and you - you're Spider-Woman for crying out loud! I just... I don't get it...”

He fidgeted with his fingers, staring down at his lap as his anxiety grew by the second. Shame creeped into his bones the longer she stayed quiet. 

He shouldn’t have come here.

After what felt like hours, she broke the silence. “Do you remember what I said when you asked me what I saw when I looked at the spot on your face?”

He remembered… How could he not when her words occupied his waking thoughts, bleeding into his dreams to form a silhouette in her image, holding him close against the tides of doubt and dejection that wreaked havoc inside of him.

Gentle fingers came to rest atop his restless hands and he turned his gaze to her. She was sitting up once more, staring with an intensity that held nothing but a tenderness he felt undeserving of.

“You’re more than just ‘some guy’. You found a way to occupy every fraction of my mind without even trying. So of course I wanted to see you again. I meant it when I said I want to know everything about you, hopefully you share that same sentiment.”

He cursed the feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing that continued to swirl in his stomach, battling against the surety of her words. Words that told him he was enough, he still had purpose in life, and he was deserving of love.

“I do.” He rasped breathily before he cleared his throat. “I-I mean, I want that too, to know you...”

Her smile reached the lenses of her mask which crinkled in response. "We can start small, like names. You called me 'Spider-Woman' earlier but I actually go by Spider Lily."

"Spider Lily." He repeated back with a touch of wonderment.

“Yep.” She pulled back the hand that rested atop his own. “But you can call me Lily.”

He was already missing her touch. “Is that your real name?”

“No, but there’s no harm in a little mystery, don't you think?”

What she said sounded surprisingly similar to…

“Wait, you play Baldur’s Gate 3?” He questioned excitedly, his feet doing a little dance in the suspended air. 

Lily chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Hell yes I do. I'm glad that some things stayed the same across our dimensions. Maybe we could play it together sometime once the full game is out in August.” 

“August? Man, where I’m from it wasn’t set to release until November. I'd love to play it with you!” He recalled countless hours he spent playing the early access of the game, trying out different classes with each new update and testing the limits of what the player could achieve.

However mundane it sounded, he missed playing video games.

“It’s a date then.” She declared lowly. “So does my co-op partner have a name?”

Her co-op partner… If that didn’t send a new round of warmth to blossom in his chest…

“Ah, yes. My name is Jonathan.”

He saw her body tense at his introduction and for a brief moment, a flash of dread pumped through his veins.

Did he say something wrong?

“Is everything okay...?”

His question pulled her out of her trance as she let out a deep breath. “Sorry. I just- I knew a Jonathan once, a long time ago but we drifted apart.”

She couldn't possibly mean... No. It was irrational to even think that she could have known another version of him. There were probably a few hundred thousand other people out there who shared his first name.

Still - he couldn't stop himself from wondering who this 'Jonathan' she used to know was, yet one glance at the way she hugged her arms to her chest and pointedly looked down at the street below had him holding back any further questions on the matter. 

“Well, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself.” He suggested, hoping to add a bit of levity to dispel the heavy topic that still filled the space between them. 

Thankfully she took the bait, turning her attention back to him. “What do you want to know?”

Everything...

Instead he found himself asking the one of the first things he wondered about when they first met. 

“Why do you live in this universe?”

“What do you mean?” The lenses of her mask narrowed slightly.

“I told you that I came to this dimension because I thought it would be easier to steal enough money for my machine here. That's because I knew that this universe’s Spider-Man died three years ago.” He was suddenly reminded of the numerous Super-Collider tests and Olivia’s orders to document all possible universes, especially those without a Spider-Person. Just thinking about what she planned to do with that information had she survived the collider explosion sent a shiver up his spine. “So either you're from another dimension or a series of events similar to my own dimension happened here that caused another Spider-Person to be created, and something is telling me it's the former.”

She let out a huff and shook her head. “Should’ve known you’d figure it out sooner rather than later.”

Jonathan took note of the way she ran a manicured nail across her fingertips, most likely a nervous habit of hers. “I suppose I owe you a story, huh?”

In lieu of responding he stayed silent, allowing her some time to gather her thoughts and hopefully feel more at ease.

“You’re right, I’m not from this universe.” Lily finally spoke up. “I'm originally from Earth-728 which no longer exists.”

The spot on his face widened before scrunching in on itself to imitate a frown. “What happened?”

“About two years ago there was a hostage situation. My best friend, Jay, was one of the civilians involved.” Her words held an aura of melancholy that had him almost regretting asking in the first place. “We grew up in the same foster home. Although he was a couple years older than me and called me ‘annoying’ at every opportunity, he took me under his wing. He taught me sign language since I was practically nonverbal when I was placed and even beat up some bullies from school who were picking on me one day. I was a senior in high school when I was bitten by a radioactive spider and… he was the first and only person I told I was Spider Lily.” She exhaled shakily as she peered up at the dark sky above them. “Jay was a lot smarter than me when it came to building tech so when I brought up the design for my suit, he helped bring it to life and also made my web-shooters. He… he was the closest thing to a brother I ever had.” 

Before he could stop himself, Jonathan reached out and took one of her hands in his own. “You don’t have to tell me-”

“No.” She gently squeezed his hand. “I want to, it’s just a hard story to tell…”

Neither one of them pulled away, holding onto each other’s hand as she continued. 

“I didn’t know anything about the multiverse back then, so I thought it was going to be another simple rescue - save Jay alongside the rest of the hostages and apprehend whoever was behind it all. There was a man, someone who claimed to be from another dimension, who was demanding that MetroLife hand over some sort of prototype. He called himself Doctor Octopus.”

A pit settled in his stomach, a wave of nausea clashing against the chill that spread throughout his body at the mention of Olivia's alternate self.

“This 'Doc Ock' guy got the help of my universe's Prowler and together they took over Metro Tower, holding the hostages ransom on the top floor. After a long winded speech he ordered Prowler to keep me busy, so we fought.” Her hand tightened around his as she closed her eyes. 

“He... His mask got knocked off and... He should have told me he was the Prowler, it would have made things simpler... Maybe...” She trailed off and he closed the distance between them, scooching over so that their shoulders touched. 

“Hey, it's okay. Take your time.” He soothed.

Lily let out a shuddering breath while gently nudging her knee against his in a show of gratitude. 

“Or maybe things wouldn’t have been simpler since we were both hiding our secret identities from each other for nearly two years.” She let out an unamused scoff.

“You knew him?”

A drawn-out sigh escaped her. “Yeah, his name was David and we were dating at the time…”

He was a bit taken aback by that revelation but did his best to not let that show on his features, telling himself that she needed comfort right now, not any superfluous reactions. 

“I was upset so I tore off my mask, but looking back on it I don’t blame him for keeping his secret. Hell, I did the same thing. Thankfully he helped me fight Doc Ock but… We were too late… He had already killed Jay…”

His heart yearned to envelop her into his arms, to console her, to shield her from the somber memories of the past that still tormented her. 

“The two of us followed after him as he tried escaping from the roof.” She recounted. “I should have known that he had bombs planted on the lower floors. The remaining hostages got out just in time before they detonated. David slipped as the floor began to collapse and fell... I- I jumped after him, tried to save him before he hit the ground but I wasn't fast enough... I relied too much on my webs and he... My webs didn't reach him in time...”

“I'm so sorry...” Three words that didn't do justice to the magnitude of what she had gone through. Not only did she lose her brother but her partner too, within minutes of each other - He couldn't even imagine what that was like. 

She gave a half shrug. “It's fine. I’ve had plenty of time to process it all.”

He still wished there was something he could do, something more than providing a sympathetic ear while holding her hand. 

“But yeah, after that shit hit the fan. The universe began crumbling, falling apart at the seams.” 

The hand in his began to slide against his palm, fingers coming to play with his digits. “I was able to make it out with the help of some other Spider-People who brought me to their HQ after they were able to capture Doc Ock. That was where I had the misfortune of meeting Miguel who runs everything.”

He watched the way her fingers danced along his with great fondness. “You really don't like the guy, huh?”

“That's a bit of an understatement. He's a stubborn hypocrite who expects everyone to fall in line, no questions asked. He's the byproduct of a wet blanket fornicating with a literal stick in the mud. If I had to choose between going on one of his 'missions' or being buried alive with a coffin filled with fire ants, I'd choose the latter. Japanese land snails are smarter than him.”

Jonathan laughed at her rant coupled with the distinct phrasing she used. “Okay dear, I get it. Hate is a more appropriate term.”

He heard her breath hitch in her throat as she stared at him, her hand ceasing its movements that he was beginning to grow used to. Her lenses crinkled and he could swear that he could feel the way her mouth was twisted in a smirk. 

“What?” He asked. 

“You called me 'dear', sweetie.” 

“Oh my god!” He spluttered while his body temperature rose several degrees. “You- I- It just came out! I'm sorry, I-”

It was her turn to giggle at the way he fumbled over his words as she intertwined their fingers together. “It's okay Jonathan. I liked it.”

His heart felt like it was about to soar out of his chest with how fast it was beating. 

“Duly noted.” He cleared his throat. “So after all of that, you came here?”

“Yep. I found a somewhat chill dimension where there wasn't a Spider-Person, moved into a modestly-sized penthouse, and surprisingly didn't destroy another universe in the process.”

The slight undertone of self-loathing was almost too meager for him to notice. Almost. 

Everything inside of him wanted to reach out to her and squash those feelings, cleanse her of all negativity while offering up hushed affirmations, trace hymns of vows unsaid onto every inch of her skin. The urge to allow her to consume him completely resurfaced again, a craving that felt almost second nature to him, a longing that surpassed all logic.

She may not have known it but in that moment he knew that he was unconditionally hers, irrevocably under her spell. 

“So I'm curious about something.” Lily began, breaking him out of his reverie. “If you're trying to get money, why not find a job instead of robbing banks?”

"I can't exactly get a job with this whole situation." He gestured to himself, all paper white skin and undulating spots. "Believe it or not, people haven't really been too perceptive of my appearance… Besides you, that is."

"What about online jobs, like freelance programming?"

The thought had crossed his mind, however there was one glaring issue… 

"I would love to do something like that, but I have no computer."

She let out a hum as he stared at her, a puzzled expression clear on his face despite having no features. The familiar anxious feeling settled in his gut yet again as neither of them spoke - Lily deep in thought while Jonathan's nerves increased with each passing second. Finally she broke the silence, her mind made up.

"I wouldn't mind giving you my computer."

The spot on his face widened. "You would do that…?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. I've been meaning to replace the motherboard and processor in it since they're a touch outdated but it still runs well. I really don't mind having to rebuild a new PC either, especially since a graphics card I've had my eye on finally went on sale but it's not compatible with the current motherboard." 

She babbled on about computer components as he struggled to register her words, bewildered that she even offered, let alone thought about giving him her computer. Anyways, he couldn’t accept her offer even if he wanted to. What could he do with it? He didn't have a home, not since he was evicted from his apartment a couple of months after the accident, and it wasn’t like he could use it out on the streets where it was ripe for the taking. Maybe if it was a laptop but that wasn't the case.

"But enough about that." The hand still in his squeezed gently, coaxing him out of his thoughts. "How about I give you my number? That way we can work out the logistics tomorrow."

"I don't have a phone either." A subtle hint of shame found its way into his voice. “And thank you, but I... I wouldn’t be able to use it anywhere…”

She frowned at him before letting out a soft “Oh...”, seemingly understanding the  predicament that he was in. 

He shouldn't have said anything... Now she knew who he really was: a lowlife, a bum, a hopeless case that felt undeserving of any kindness. A mixture of worry and helplessness swirled in his chest, playing tag with despondent pleas that echoed endlessly in a sickening loop. 

He didn’t want her to see him differently…

"Alright, how good is your memory?" She tilted her head a bit in time with her inquiry, not at all deterred by the insecurities plaguing the man beside her.

He scratched the back of his neck, unsure as to why she was asking. "Uh, I'd say it's pretty good." 

"Great! I live in Greenwich Village off of Washington and…" She rattled off her address, apartment number and all. 

Jonathan was perplexed. Here was this beautiful woman giving him her address, as if she didn't care he was homeless. As if he wasn’t anything less than human. As if she saw him for who he truly was. 

"Why are you giving me your address?" He interrupted her as she talked about her neighborhood and the cafe she liked to frequent on Hudson Street.

"I want to help you out." Lily stated simply, providing no further reasoning.

He was baffled at the intense earnestness in her tone. "You hardly know anything about me though."

"True, but I'd love to know more."

"And what makes you think I won't go to the news with this info?" He probed rather boldly. 

Her gaze bore into him, the intensity of it almost palpable. "Will you?"

She managed to see right through his meager bluff, the weak foundation it was created on already a crumbled heap before them. 

He rubbed his feet together abashedly. "Well… No…"

“Look.” She began. "When was the last time you slept in an actual bed?”

There was a pause as Jonathan combed through his memory, remembering the dirty, grubby mattress he found in an alleyway before coming to this dimension. The meager comfort it provided was short-lived since the fourth night he slept on it, his slumber was interrupted by a homeless woman shouting at him to get off her property. Her screaming only got louder once she had noticed his white skin and lack of facial features. He tried his best to explain his situation and calm her down, but he ended up absconding through a portal once she started hitting him with one of her overstuffed grocery bags.

He squashed that memory down and answered her, albeit reluctantly. “4… Maybe 5 weeks?”

“I don’t have a spare bed but I’m sure my couch is a lot more comfortable than sleeping on the streets.” 

For some strange reason, he almost felt disappointed that she was offering her couch and not her bed. He knew it was an absurd presumption but he would give anything to lay beside her, to hold her close as they slept peacefully, their legs tangled up in the sheets. 

Maybe he was reading everything wrong. All the pet names and flirtatious remarks… 

“Although my bed is much more comfortable, warmer too.” She knocked her knee against his in time with the wink she sent his way. 

Nevermind.

“In all seriousness though, I’m not going to force you if you don’t want my help. However if you do decide to drop by, my door is always open to you Jonathan.” The sincerity in her voice made him want to break down. “Whatever you need: money, food, a computer, a place to stay. I’ll help you out the best I can for as long as you’ll let me.”

Neither one of them spoke as she turned to look up at the night sky. His stare stayed fixed on her for a few seconds until he too looked up. Amidst the darkened sea he could have sworn he could make out a glowing tail of space rock entering the atmosphere, burning up in the heat before it reached the ground.

He still made a wish.

They stayed that way for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence. 

Sirens wailed in the distance, breaking through the serenity of the moment. With a sigh she squeezed his hand one last time before slowly sliding her fingers away. 

“I suppose I should do some more patrolling before calling it a night.” She stood up and brushed off any dirt that may have accumulated from her backside. He stopped himself from outright ogling and got to his feet as well, only allowing himself a peek which rewarded him with the sight of her asscheeks jiggling somewhat under her movements. 

Once she was satisfied with the lack of dirt she reached out and took hold of his wrist, rubbing her thumb along the inside where his heartbeat could be felt, sending goosebumps up his arm. He tried his best to keep his erratic heart under control but he could tell his efforts were in vain since he heard it ring dully in his skull.

“No need to give me an answer right now, just think about it. Okay?” 

He nodded. “Okay.”

She let go of his wrist and shot out a web towards the adjacent building. “Until next time, sweetheart.”

Her feet dropped off the edge of the roof and she swung through the air, leaving him to wave after her retreating form. 

“Next time...” He echoed out loud to the now desolate rooftop. 

Lily… She really was something else.

When she first offered to help him, he was ready to decline, having already resigned himself to living on the streets for an undetermined amount of time. Of course he could easily just go to a different dimension and try robbing banks all over again, but he didn’t want to do that. He made a promise to her, one he had no intention of breaking. He wanted to stay here, where she was. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to stay in this universe just as much as he did.

Jonathan knew he would find himself at her doorstep soon, he just needed to build up the courage to do so. 

He opened up a portal and walked through, bringing himself back down to the ground below, in the alleyway; the same alleyway that Spider Lily caught him in a week ago. The sound of her laughter played in his mind, accompanied by the sincerity in her gaze and the softness in her voice as she spoke his name. 

It was almost as if he could hear her calling out his name now.

Wait…

“Jonathan!”

He whipped his head around and the spot on his face widened in shock as she came into view, twirling in the air with a grace that seemed effortless to her. Lily came to a halt before descending slowly, the web tethered to the bottom of the fire escape keeping her aloft. Finally she stopped once her face was level with his own, hanging upside down only a couple of inches away.

“Hi.” He said before he could stop himself, doing his best to not leer lasciviously at the way gravity pulled at her breasts. 

She tilted her head. “I want to try something.”

His breath caught in his throat as she reached for the edge of her mask, pulling it down slowly. He couldn’t do anything but take in the fairness of her skin, the plumpness of her lips, and the beginning of what appeared to be a decent amount of freckles on her nose and lower cheeks which disappeared under the rest of her mask. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” She spoke so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her. 

He could hardly believe that this was happening. She could have chosen anyone, yet here she was asking to kiss him of all people. It felt as though his nerves were on fire and she hadn’t even touched him. 

And he desperately wanted to feel her lips…

“Please.” He whispered breathlessly.

Without any hesitation she leaned in, kissing him where his lips would be. 

He was certain he had died and gone to heaven. 

The gentle press of her lips carried a sense of longing that made his knees weak. His skin buzzed as sparks danced through every cell of his body, igniting his very core. He felt like he was melting, like the spots that littered his calescent skin had become a liquid and were dripping onto the concrete where the puddle of dark matter threatened to swallow him whole.

All too soon she was pulling away, a small smile on her lips.

“Wow…” He murmured in astonishment.

“Yeah… I think you quite literally took my breath away.” 

Her words emboldened him. The fact that even though he was unable to properly reciprocate the kiss, he was still able to elicit that kind of reaction from her, and it caused his heart to swell with pride. 

"And that's without a mouth. Once I'm back to normal, you won't be able to breathe properly ever again.”

The sight of her smile squashed down any panic he may have felt over what he just said. Her singsong laughter held him hostage and he could do nothing but surrender into its sweet refrain.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She bit her lower lip in a sensual way that sent a shiver up his spine. 

Her hand came to pull her mask back up, securing it in place before reaching out to cup his cheek. “I hope to see you soon…”

“You will.” He found himself saying as he watched her fling out another web and weave through the air, disappearing into the night once more. 

Recalling the wish he made on the shooting star, Jonathan swore that nothing would prevent him from seeking her out soon.

#the spot spiderverse #the spot x oc #spiderverse oc #spidersona #spiderverse fanfic #jonathan ohnn x oc

[mejomonster]

Justice in the Dark, more on ep 2 since I can't shut the fuck up apparently even tho I just wrote a whole essay ToT

I get why the casting is who it is. In retrospect. In sitting here now lmao. Like I said I like who they cast performance wise they're doing perfect. But looks wise not all match exactly what was in my head. (Tao Ran does perfectly utterly in every way though lol). I think Fei Du was cast cause he looks a lot like fandom drawings of fei du. Not my personal image of him (my personal image of him is like slightly to the left of his most usual drawn look). But I can see a casting director thinking "yeah he'll look so much like the audio drama art and fanart etc" (also any skin smoothing just further highlights that). And Luo? Parts are clearly from the book, parts are from Zhao Yunlan (I imagine they wanted a specific kind of appeal you see in certain lead actors which he's also got here), and then i in reflection like how he looks "less intense" than fei du.

1 because fei du looks like he needs a home-cooked meal and Luo looks like he can cook it (which goes a lot more into their both romance dynamics and bigger dynamic of Luo being Feis path to healing, life, warmth, growth, him looking visually more soft and touchable and healthy and in touch with a realistic world all add to him being that For Fei Du).

2 Luo looks a bit older, just actor has quite distinct eyes (they could be similar age actors idk) and Luo seems Iike the increased stubble is more a present thing (with no facial hair in past scenes) so I think there's some choices there with age trying to be a noticeable trait. Versus Fei Du where he feels Iike a rich fantastical cold masked character out of an anime or out of Flower of Evil (he Screams protagonist from Flower of Evil energy but with even less convincing "ordinary approachable guy" ability to act, actually I think in general Flower of Evil fans and Beyond Evil fans would probably really like Fei Du). If costuming and makeup love me, over time fei dus visuals in the show may look less almost unreal and become more "looks like a random person you'd walk past" Iike Luo and Tao. As he opens up more and Luo becomes a part of his life more. So like... I get the choices on who to cast and why someone thought they'd look the part. Luo also we are seeing from Fei Dus pov (like most of the show), and Luos often snippy and ordery and it's in a way funny we see him as plain when Fei du does. In the scenes emotionally charged between them, I think Luos actor is shot quite handsomely, who's to say if that'll also be a trend of him looking more Model esque when Fei Du is emotionally open around him. (I also now that I'm settling into this show, appreciate that Luo looks like a plain everyday man sometimes. He's got model looks when the lighting flatters him. But also it not purposely played up constantly reminds me of the book - fei du in the show visually is constantly Model esque, in the book he's constantly dressed up and has peach blossom eyes and it's part of the Performance, and these visual drama choices echo that Feeling of the characters).

For the people like Me who prefer (or even need) action in their romance, im happy to report this is indeed a Flower of Evil situation! Lots of dollops of murder mystery, romance, and action! A nice little car chase was in episode 1 to set that expectation. I personally love me a good action scene, and the car scene looked significantly better than my (very low) expectations (Till Death Tear Us Apart cdrama looked decent to me though so temper yourself). Just wanted to happily report thank goodness there's murder and action in this.

Luo is handsome. (Don't trust my rants dissing on him lol) Like the scene of Fei Du as a child? I totally get why he's Captain Luo, why he's the guy who "wanted to save the whole universe." Why that day when he saw Fei Du absolutely destroyed, scared, he wanted to do anything to help him. And why he kept helping him for years after and still keeps track of him now. This is the "superhero" Luo that his team at their fondest see him as, that Tao sees him as at his best, that Fei Du saw him as when he was a child until Luo failed him (the whole world did) and Fei as a child blamed Luo for all of it to cope with the hopelessness he felt.

Just. This entire scene. I really felt that awful hopelessness. Luo Wenzhou realizing its hard to save even just one person, the looming threat he will soon try and fail to protect Fei Du and fail and fail and it will haunt him and cling on and he'll try so hard to Keep Trying as hard as it is and as much as Fei Du pushes him away and how awful it feels to Keep failing fei du. Fei Du looking at him for help, the only hand he can reach out to for it, and the realization that even this man who's like a superhero to him and an angel... can't. That no force in this world can fix this.

#rant #lb #justice in the dark #yep i am in deep now #im so messed up over that scene

[mechanicalinertia]

Bubblegum Black: For A World Without Gold - Chapter 1 is now live! (& Author's Commentary

It's the first of its kind: A BGC x Black Lagoon crossover, a new paradigm in cyber-powered hyperviolence and waifus swearing like drunken sailors! A new kind of war - A new kind of Crisis!

...Oh, right, I said I'd put in some metacommentary here, in the author's notes, right? Yeah. Time to do that. In essence, I'm going to run through every bit of technobabble or characterization piece that readers might be confused by, and just address them. I am, however, assuming some elementary knowledge of BGC and Lagoon (I will not abbreviate it to BL I simply refuse to fall into the path of degeneracy it will not happen). If there's an element from that you don't know about, uh... read the wiki? Or watch either show, they're both great.

Koh Kood Island: There's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it shot of Roanapur's actual location in Thailand. It's near the Cambodian border, it's on the water, it’s got a bridge running to it - it’s Koh Chang Island, it has to be. Sure, the real island is steep and forested, sure it’s a mile away from the mainland (one helluva bridge!) but the island is just big enough to house a medium-sized city like Roanapur if you level it out a bit via the powers of Dramatic License. Koh Kood is an island adjacent to it, closer to the Cambodian border. So the scene of the action is close to Roanapur, still in Thai waters, but not that close.

Stemjack and the Cybersuite: Lingo for the usual cyberpunk plug n' play neural interface port. Cyberpunk 2077 may have them in the wrists, but in this particular cyberpunk-y universe they're a much less well-realized piece of technology. That's because most people, as their default information-interface replacing the smartphone, use the 'Cybersuite', an amalgam of several technologies: soft augmented-reality lenses grafted onto the corneas ('corneals' to actualize a 'holofeed' in the 'holocloud', a kind of augmented-reality internet), jawbone-induction microphones and speakers ('mastimikes'), and finger-and-palm haptic sensors to make AR objects interactable by touch ('phantomics'). All this is as cheap and ubiquitous as, well, a smartphone, and in that case who needs a neural interface for anything besides synchronizing with heavy machinery, which requires neural rewiring and training if said machinery isn't humanoid? Absent downloading-information-directly-into-the-brain technology, which isn't quite realized here, there just isn't a huge need outside of military applications or more exotic cybernetics, I think.

Strikesuit Tech: Shape memory polymer artificial muscles are a thing already, albeit unrealized in industrial applications, as is foamed-alloy armor. The Strikesuit is slightly on the heavy side for what it is, especially compared to a Knight Saber hardsuit. It's a relic from before Boomers became common in American-aligned militaries across the world, one of those things that of course Eda would sell for the price of a small car.

NBC Sealing: Short for Nuclear, Biological, Chemical sealing, usually used to refer to armored vehicles.

Kerenzikov: A leftover reflex booster from the Cyberpunk franchise, less cool in all ways compared to the Sandevistan that plays such a big part in Edgerunners. Say that the Kerenzikov is still a reflex booster, but one that's a little less severe in how much it boosts the body and the brain into overdrive.

SSW40’s: Rheinmetall, the gentlemen who make the Abrams’ main cannon, have decided to diversify, apparently, and aside from semi-autonomous 50mm guns for lighter armored vehicles, they’re also working on magazine-fed 40mm grenade launchers. That means more ammo capacity than the current standard M32 / Milkor MGL, and a higher-velocity round because it isn’t a revolver-action, and better reloading ergonomics because, again, not a revolver. That’s the SSW40. Ancient by the time of this fic, but if it saw use in World War 3 it’ll probably see action in Roanapur again, just like Revy’s strikesuit, give or take an update for airburst programming. Also, it felt like a cool update to her old M79.

Saber 5: Read my previous completed fic, Anatomy of A Lovedoll, to know who that fifth Saber is. Or just wait till Chapter 2 comes out. Either way you’ll find out soon enough.

Absolu: A very clear knockoff of France’s largest company, petrochemical giant Total. I do think humanity will get off of petrochemical reliance for the most part save in places where it’s irrationally culturally engrained by midcentury, but it’ll probably be too late to stop the really bad effects of climate change from kicking in (fuck, most of Canada’s forests are burning down as I write this, West and East now). Companies whose bread and butter is commodity extraction will still find ways to poison local environments with stuff like rare-earth mining, if I had to take a wild guess, but hey at least they won’t be shitting x number of gigatons of carbon into the atmosphere annually! Baby steps.

Necessary Evil: Another bit I borrowed from Anatomy. Saber White has never said this in the actual series, but the way I’m writing her, this is something she would say and has said. Which runs contra to how she’s characterized in the OG series’ OVA 8, according to some people, but dammit this is my fic I’ll misinterpret things as I please.

Manhattan: Has anyone here ever read the cyberpunk-ish novel Blackfish City? Anyone know what happens to NYC in that book? Well, I decided to rip that off. Fuck it, here’s the lowdown: Sea levels rose, NYC had a seawall, and then the usual gaggle of postfascist Christian extremists blew up the seawall to flood ‘Liberal Sodom’, and the government did very, very little to help as the city died in bits and pieces, probably because said government was also run by postfascist wackos who saw NYC as the enemy. That time, and that place, are where Revy grew up. Even more unpleasant than her old backstory, yeah?

Red Fraction: I know Revy has a playlist she uses when she’s doing premediated killing. I know Gen Urobuchi put a Rage Against The Machine song on that playlist for the 90’s. But this fic is set 70 years after that time; what the flippedy dippedy was I supposed to do for Revy music? Make shit up? Endless fictitious Black Metal groups? So, in the spirit of a Big Grand Opening, I decided to go for Lagoon’s anime OP. Because it’s such a Revy song, isn’t it? Aggressive, profane, swaggering, and all the same just a little defensive (These aren’t tears / don’t let them trick you). Every part of it feels like a song Revy would sing. So if I was opening with Revy, I had to back that up. Shit, I might sync fight scenes to music more often after this, too.

Riot Boomers: I visualized some very Five Star Stories looking mecha for this particular not-in-the-actual-series Boomer, very exaggerated and top-heavy. I don’t know why.

In the land of the blind…: This is one of the best action movie one-liners I have come up with, like, ever. I’m so proud of it.

The Doberman: The Doberman is probably the scariest-looking Boomer in all of BGC, and it gets only a bit part enforcing order in the opening of OVA 5. So a) I thought I’d bring it back as a scary threat and b) thought I’d rip it to bits with ease so the reader gets an idea of how goddamn powerful the Sabers are in this fic, how after about a year and a half of operation their hardware and tactics are such that they can render one caught-off-guard hunter-killer unit so much nanotech meat and scrap. So maybe it should be a tougher fight realistically, but I wanted to show off. Forgive me.

Gunship’s The Mountain: No real thematic purpose to this particular bit of music. It just feels like really good opening-to-something music.

Rock’s Mental State: Oofah. Our boy isn't doing so good, is he? In tumblrspeak we'd call him a Sad Blorbo Meowmeowman. For real Lagoon fans (Lagoonatics?), you may be wondering how closely I'm following the events of the anime and the manga after that (I do treat the order of events for the first few arcs as being in the anime's canon not the manga's), and the answer, profound and deep, is a great big 'eh'. That is to say: Everything that happened in the manga / anime happened, with only history-updating changes to the characters' backgrounds and their patron organizations changed. But of course I'm going to deviate from where Hiroe-sensei wants to take what's left of the manga. I don't know what he's doing, and I'm not waiting around for ten years or so for him to finish. So: Roberta got fucked up, Feng Yifei / Li Xinlin has found her home in Roanapur, and Le Majeur did join the Lagoon Company. Where is she now? Um... you'll find out later. Suffice to say that I'm guessing that as of the events of the manga as-is (2023), Rock's been in Roanapur about two years, and as of this fic's timing, he's been around for about three. Things can change a lot in a year, especially in a city like that. As for how closely I'm following the spinoffs, again I give you an 'eh' followed by a belated 'not really'. Initial Stage is too tied up in the geopolitics of the 90's to translate lore well to this fic, and Gore Gore Girl introduces a bunch of characters I don't really care about and so probably won't do anything with (untranslated, but I read about it on the wiki. It seems to be a much sillier series than OG Lagoon and that's saying something.) I think the only non-Hiroe media with events I want to trace are the Gen Urobuchi light novels, since they're amusing fun that introduce new characters without going overboard on throwing wrenches into the plot. Well, except for Shadow Falcon. He's not showing up in this fic for sure. Say he's around, but he's on assignment elsewhere.

Opening Credits: So wayyyyyy back in 1991, the first digital-native anime fanfiction megacrossover, one Undocumented Features, was published by a couple of dudes at Worchester Polytechnic Institute. As you can see, a similar thing was done there, something that I find so funny that I've tried to use it myself for my own fics, using JP voice actors for the main cast like real credits (yeah yeah yeah I know, everyone tells me the Lagoon dub is superior, it's probably better for the Japan arc for sure so I don't have to listen to Megumi Toyoguchi choke out 'Haiy Asuhoru' again, but Roberta's seiyuu does one of the best performances of her career there and you can't convince me otherwise), and throwing up some fictitious production companies into existence to amuse myself and others. If you can figure out what they're referencing, let me know and I'll... eh, I'll be internet-happy. It will, of course, be updated on the AO3 version of this fic as I add in new cast members; so far, all I've got there is characters I know have to show up in the fic, with more to hopefully come along the way (might have to just put in seiyuu names without their characters for a bit of surprise? Eh, you could just look them up then if you really wanted to, we'll see).

Anyway, that's that! Hope you enjoyed the work so far! I've got the next chapter written, it just has to be edited, but to whet your appetite, let me ask you a question: How did Balalaika know how to contact the Knight Sabers? And why did Saber White accept her request?

#bubblegum crisis #black lagoon #fanfiction

[angelamajiki]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧

PAIRINGS: Yandere! Fatgum x Female! Sidekick! Reader

CW: noncon, voyeurism, bell bulge, size kink, praise kink, breeding, cunninglingus, bondage, dumbification

AN: This is a piece for Fern’s 1k Event! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ! Read the intro and first piece before reading this one! Ty <3 P.S. the italicized quotes are Nighteye’s and reader prior convo

Gluttony: The Second Circle of Dante’s Inferno

“What I like about gluttony,' a bishop I knew used to say, 'is that it doesn't hurt anyone else.'”

You hadn’t the faith to believe him when he said it.

It was hard to call the exchanges that occurred between the two of you a conversation. More or less, he spoke the truth of your reality and you simply didn’t have the gall to question it.

The elevator he thrust you into was cold and unnerving despite the cheesy jazz music that thankfully filled the void of silence you were sure would have deafened you if it prolonged itself. It gave you time to think on his words, more so than you would have liked to.

“The flesh endures the storms of the present alone; the mind, those of the past and future as well as the present. Gluttony is a lust of the mind. It is a poison that is all-consuming of the senses.”

Gluttony was the next trial, so it seemed. Lord knows what lies ahead for you, leaving you foolishly clutching to the notion that this circle couldn’t possibly be worse than the last.

The abrupt halt to the elevator allows the gravity of the situation to sink in fully. The inescapable horror was creeping in through the crack in the door, especially when it opened to find a man waiting for you.

And what a man he was, standing at nearly eight feet.

“Just the gal I was lookin’ for! I was worried my favorite lil sidekick had run off right after quitin’ time.”

An enormous, gloved hand clapped down on your shoulder, lingering far longer than you would have liked.

“Follow me to my office, yeah? I got something I wanna discuss with ya.”

And just like that, the string of fate slipped around your neck like a noose and pulled you along down the empty hallway, save for you, the man, and the numerous amounts of plaques, awards, and other celebratory memorabilia decorating the agency halls.

Judging by the pictures you saw yourself in, you were a hero of sorts, working alongside the unnamed man and two others you had yet to meet. Hopefully, your paths would never cross.

Even inside his office, you could see the remnants of what your life would be in this circle of hell. Whoever was with you seemed to be very fond of you, given the number of photographs and newspaper clippings adorning his desk and walls of the office.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and not just your fantastic work as a hero. Been thinking about what a fine woman you’ve grown to be.”

Those large hands found your shoulders again, stroking and rubbing to set you at ease in his grasp.

“Strong.”

One dipped down to your waist.

“Sweet.”

The other onto your arm.

“Everything a man like me needs. You sure fill my appetite in more than one way.”

Finally, the rest on your hips, thumbing circles into the soft flesh he took purchase in there.

Ah, so this was the glutton in question.

“I’m not sure I’m following what you mean.”

Just play dumb, maybe this circle will have mercy on you.

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, honey. There’s no reason to get all shy on me; I promise I don’t bite-”

His hand slid up to your neck, resting comfortably while enveloping the entirety of it with just his palm.

“Unless you ask for it.”

The whisper in his voice sent shivers down your spine, leaving you frozen in his grasp. It was undeniable that you would never beat him, no matter what your power may be in this world. Hell, if you even had one, how certain were you that you could use it?

Your options were far and few between, but laying down and taking it like some pathetic little bitch was not going to be an option for you. Not here, not now.

The shrill sound of your own voice even hurt your own ears as you cried for help, thrashing wildly in the grip of the man.

Your cries for help should have been chosen more carefully, seeing as when your two apparent saviors sped into the room, they opted to help the man pin you down even further.

“Damn, she’s being a feisty little thing-”

“Fatgum, let go of her neck! You’re gonna hurt her.”

“S-Should we really be doing this?”

And so you were left bound against the top of the desk, shrouded in a swarth of tentacles pinning your legs open and your hands above your head.

“Thank you, boys. Didn’t realize she would cause such a stir.”

So Fatgum was his name, or so it appeared to be an alias of some sorts.

“Fatgum, please-”

His smile was sickeningly sweet as he towered over you.

“Awe, no need for formalities with me, sugar plum. Just call me Tai, yeah?”

The two other men stood beside you, watching their boss closely as he dealt with you.

“Curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour.”

Damn that cursed man for sending you down here in that goddamn elevator. This journey alone made it nearly impossible to keep this strength to see your mother again alive.

“Tai, please. I don’t-” His hearty laugh cut you off. “Begging already, sugar? By the fight you put up, I’d almost thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“I don’t!” You protested, squirming in your slimy bonds before they tightened uncomfortably around you.

“Don’t yell at him like that. It's unbecoming of you.”

The raven-haired man snapped at you, looking down with a blush seared across his face and up to his ears.

“Relax, Tamaki. She just needs a reminder of who she belongs, ain’t that right? But, he’s right, I can't have you mouthing off like that, now can I?”

Slipping his black mask off his eyes, Tai fastened it around your mouth and head, loosely gagging you.

“Yeah, you belong to us!”

It was the redhead’s turn to pipe up before Tai shushed the pair of men.

“Now, now, I know you’re fond of our sweet little sidekick here, but this?”

He clapped a hand over still clothed pussy, rubbing gently.

“This here is mine; you boys can’t have this. But you’re more than welcome to stay and watch as I indulge myself.”

You whined into the gag, looking at him with teary eyes as he ripped a hole in your bottoms and panties.

“Hey, hey, hey. No need for tears, honeybun. You're safe with me, okay? I’m gonna take such good care of my little sweetheart, don’t you worry about a thing.”

His large fingers stroked over your clit slowly and tenderly, kissing your salty tears away as he shushed you with praise and loving words. Thumbing your clit, he pushed his middle fingers into you at a slow pace, grinning softly when you bit back a moan.

“Come on now, girl. We wanna hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel, ain’t that right, boys?”

Their collective groans of pleasure gave you all the response you needed; those sick fucks were getting off on you being harassed by your boss.

His finger sped up in pace, making you squeal once he curled his finger in an upwards motion. “Can’t wait to hear what you’ll sound like on my cock, sweet girl. Gonna sing us a nice song?”

Another finger slipped in as his free hand pawed at your tits, fondling and groping as he finger fucked you a new sense of vigor.

“As much as I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart, I’m just itching to get inside you and feel that pretty cunt around me. You understand, don’t you? I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

His lips continued to litter your skin in kisses to your face, licking at the tears that fell from your eyes when he added a third finger into your tight, wet hole.

“Mhm, you won’t mind if I have a taste, do ya?”

You could only whine in response.

“Of course you don’t, my good girl never says no to me.”

A hot mouth sealed itself around your clit as three fingers pumped in and out of you steadily, hitting all the right spots repeatedly. You squealed and shook in your binds, feeling your orgasm approaching hard and fast with the aid of his tongue lapping and suckling at you.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”

That was all you needed to feel yourself reach that blinding peak, sobbing and writhing as he rode out your ecstasy. His tongue continued to work at you far after you were finished, overestimating you without a care in the world. Your whines of protest fell on deaf ears as he just pulled your body closer to his face.

“Taste so good, sweetheart. I’ll stop when I’m finished with my meal, y’understand? This is my pussy, and I’ll do what I want with it.”

Leaving you twitching and sobbing, Tai finally pulled away and stood up, pulling his cock out and stroking it above you.

“Can’t wait to breed my pussy. Gonna make you my cute little cream puff.”

Both of his massive hands circled around you waist, pulling you flush against him as he sank all the way into your tight heat. The stretch of his girth was quite nearly unbearable as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of you, rubbing the small bulge in your belly with fondness while peering down at you.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. I knew you’d be so good for me. Yer takin’ me so well.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he slowly pulled out, leaving your legs twitching wildly when his thumb found its way back to your clit before he sank back in all the way. You could snark about how courteous it was of him to allow you to adjust, but the thread of consciousness was hard to grasp onto as he completely dominated your mind with numbing pleasure.

“You were made to take my cock, sweet thing. Let me give you a treat for bein’ so obedient for me.”

His praise went straight to your gut, as much as you hated to admit it, leaving you feeling pliable and soft under his demanding touch. Those hands around your waist pulled at your body, bringing you back and forth on his cock like you were a goddamn fleshlight.

“Ah, ” he grunted. “I don't think I can hold back much longer; you’ll let me be selfish, won’t ya?”

With that, all sense of tenderness and gentleness was thrown out the window as he picked you up from the desk, holding you against his chest as he jackhammered into you with an impossible pace of his hips.

“Shit! Squeezing me so tight, bein’ such a good little fucktoy for me.”

The sounds of skin slapping and the collective sounds of pleasure rang heavy in the room as he used and abused your throbbing pussy, feeling his grip on you tighten when he was reaching his own high.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum, gonna stuff my pussy nice and full!”

The bulge on your stomach grew even more as he came, stuffing you to the hilt with his cum and his cock. Ropes of it leaked out of your hole, even as he stayed inside you, panting and kissing at your sweaty forehead.

“Gave ‘em a good show, didn’t we, sweetheart? Say thank you, boys.”

Their thanks were mumbled out as they too had exhausted themselves just from the display of your pleasure. Tamaki’s tentacles retracted themselves from you, allowing you to stretch and return feeling to your arms and legs.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart. We’re - hey, are you with me? I’m gonna clean you up and take you back home with me, okay? No more hero nonsense for you, ya hear me? All you need to do from now on is stay home and keep that pussy warm for me.”

Like hell you were going to stay for another damned second in this realm, not after being violated so horrifically.

“O-Okay.”

Play it cool, play it cool.

“Let me go to the bathroom, then.” You swallowed, hoping to fool the men. “A-And I’ll get my change of clothes and we can go home.”

You didn’t wait for a response, hobbling out of the office before making a break down the hall for the elevator. Their shouts echoed off the hallway walls as you ran with all your strength left back into the safety of the elevator, leaving them running after you before the door shut on them.

“Gluttony is a great fault; but we do not necessarily dislike a glutton. We only dislike the glutton when he becomes a gourmet-that is, we only dislike him when he not only wants the best for himself, but knows what is best for other people.”

— tagging: @sightoru @anarchicmartyr @natsuonii @whumperooni @viixens @lunar-nebula @trafalgar-temptress

#yandere fatgum x reader #yandere fatgum #fatgum x reader #fatgum #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia

[the-last-kenobi]

If you’re still taking requests (feel no pressure to do this) 14 with Obi-wan and a knight Anakin because that sounds very much like him

A fluff prompt!! I’m so excited, thank you! 🤍

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

_

Obi-Wan Kenobi had not slept in three nights, and his Lineage was not happy about it.

Ahsoka and Anakin watched with narrowed eyes from a balcony as the Jedi Master mingled with the crowd, smiling softly at anyone who engaged his attention, keeping close to the side of Chancellor Palpatine and Vice Chair Mas Amedda.

For a man who was running on very little sleep and hardly any sustenance, Obi-Wan was managing to maintain the image of the perfect Jedi — civil, humble, charming, wise. Power concealed just below the surface.

Every so often, Palpatine would draw the Jedi deeper into some conversation or other, or pat him on the shoulder in a strangely paternal fashion.

“Why does he keep doing that?” Ahsoka hissed to her Master. “Master Kenobi hates strangers touching him!”

“The Chancellor isn’t a stranger,” Anakin said defensively. But he watched again as Palpatine settled a hand on his former Master’s arm and saw the slight tension creasing Obi-Wan’s forehead, and had to concede that Obi-Wan was feeling uncomfortable. “But yeah. I don’t think the Chancellor knows, he wouldn’t do it if he did. He’s probably just too used to working with me instead. We’re more like friends.”

Ahsoka raised her eyebrows. “And would he have let you go home by now? We were supposed to be able to leave almost two hours ago.”

Anakin sighed. He leaned on the railing, absentmindedly picking at a carved design in the metal with his mech hand, creating a small clicking noise. He scanned the room again, searching for unlikely threats, and then returned his gaze to his Master and his friend, still penned in the center of a colorful crowd all waiting for attention. To see and be seen. Vultures.

Obi-Wan had more patience for this sort of thing, it was true, but it was apparent to those who knew him well — to Anakin — that he was run ragged. That every new face turning in his direction, awed and pettily delighted by meeting both the Supreme Chancellor and a High Jedi General, was another weight on his shoulders.

Anakin glanced over at his Padawan. Ahsoka’s eyes lit up as she saw the look in his eyes.

“How do you wanna do this?” she asked, tapping her fingers excitedly on the banister. “I know you like explosions, but if you set something off, Master Obi-Wan will definitely have to flee with the Chancellor to safety and then he’ll be gone for ages.”

“You’re right, Snips,” Anakin said, and a smirk pulled at his lips. He ruffled his hair proudly, ignoring Ahsoka’s eye roll, and said, “So I’ll take a leaf from Obi-Wan’s book. I’ll just go right down there and use my words.”

Anakin beamed.

Ahsoka looked as if she suddenly preferred an explosion.

-

“Yes, hi, hello, excuse me, coming through, yep, pardon me, just walking here,” Anakin threw scattered, inane apologies in every direction as he plowed a path right through the entire gala.

Ahsoka trailed in his wake, smiling awkwardly at the people who scattered with startled looks and scowling ferociously at those who dared look cross.

Obi-Wan spotted them first. He was deep in conversation with a representative from the Core, but his blue eyes flickered to them briefly and his smile became slightly taut; he raised one of his hands in what might have passed for a wave but was, to his Padawans, a clear signal to turn around.

Anakin disregarded this subtle warning immediately.

He strolled directly up to Obi-Wan, bowed slightly, and put a hand on the Master’s shoulder, smiling blindingly at the representative. “Good evening. I’m afraid it’s time for Master Kenobi to depart. The Jedi thank you for your time.”

The representative raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

Palpatine, on the other hand, suddenly popped up right beside them, a wide smile on his grandfatherly face. “Anakin, Knight Skywalker, how good to see you! I thought you’d gone home hours ago, why, surely you need your rest after that last campaign.”

Anakin kept a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Ahsoka shifted to stand behind them, smiling a little too widely, the points of her teeth glinting, at anyone who looked at them askance.

“We had quite the victory,” Anakin agreed. He preened slightly. But — “And you’re right, Chancellor, we do need our rest. General Kenobi has served very well, and we’re all eager to rest and prepare for our next deployment.”

Palpatine’s smile widened still further. “Ah, yes. General Kenobi is an incredible public servant, he’s such a delight to have at events such as these.”

This time it was Anakin who tensed slightly. Ahsoka sidled up surreptitiously and linked her arm with Master Obi-Wan’s, flanking him between them, drawn up as tall as she could make herself.

Anakin looked intently at Palpatine, trying to communicate to his friend that now was not the time for politics. He’d thought this would be easy, but the Chancellor seemed determined to keep Kenobi with him all evening. The crowd had begun to disperse, realizing they weren’t going to be receiving any attention for awhile, but they milled about nearby, clearly listening in.

“I—” Obi-Wan began, but Anakin decided to risk his Master’s wrath and just cut him right off.

“And he and I are always happy to be invited by such gracious hosts!” he blurted out quickly. “But sadly, we will have to wait for another invitation before we get the chance to enjoy one another’s company. We really do have to be going.”

Palpatine studied him for a moment.

Go on, Anakin urged him silently. Please. Come on. You know we want to leave.

The silence dragged.

“Master Kenobi,” Palpatine said warmly, turning to Obi-Wan, and Anakin felt a wave of relief. “What do you say? Shall we… let you out of your duties for the sake of your valiant friends?”

Oh, what the fuck?

It had the ring of a joke but was worded like a trap. And Anakin could see, in slow-motion, the flicker of resignation and bitterness deep in Obi-Wan’s blue eyes, just behind the friendly smile, and knew what was about to happen if he didn’t do something about it.

Anakin let out a loud laugh and clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder again. “Sorry, everyone. We’re on a time crunch, we have to get back in time for dessert.”

Ahsoka laughed, too, and clung a little tighter to Obi-Wan’s arm.

Obi-Wan looked somewhere between confused and horror struck.

Palpatine’s smile froze.

Anakin chuckled and waved at the surrounding crowd, shrugging in a you-know-how-it-is sort of way. “Hey, he promised us milkshakes. General I may be, but I still demand my old Master fulfill his promises of unhealthy desserts.”

“Hey, I think out of everyone, I deserve milkshakes the most!” Ahsoka interjected, her tone teasing.

A few of the politicians shot her amused smiles. Ordinarily she would have bristled, but in this instance she just shot them knowing, conspiratorial looks, like a child deliberately making mischief. There was a ripple of laughter.

“I don’t know about that,” Anakin said. “I think I definitely took out the most droids.”

“Riiiight,” said Ashoka. “After I took out the battlement. By myself.”

They ribbed back and forth. The gala was eating it up, their faces amused and indulgent, intrigued by the display of youthful frivolity and friendship the Jedi were giving them. Obi-Wan was still pinned between them, rooted helplessly to the spot.

Anakin looked back at the Chancellor, expecting a smile.

Instead he got a blank expression — which quickly turned into a loud bark of laughter and a grandfatherly grin. He clapped his hands to gain the attention of the crowd and said, “Oh, I believe our brave Hero and his friends have earned themselves a night out for something as innocent and delightful as milkshakes, don’t you say?”

The crowd laughed and nodded; there was scattered applause, and it was done.

Anakin winked at the Chancellor and then turned on the spot, he and Ahsoka striding out the room with Obi-Wan trapped in the middle, waving and bowing at anyone who smiled in their direction.

The three of them escaped out of the ballroom, down the flight of stairs, and out onto the grand balcony overlooking the landing platform, where their ship was waiting in the semi-darkness of the Coruscant night.

Anakin and Ahsoka turned at the same time to look at Obi-Wan, each of them still holding on to one of the Master’s arms.

There was a long silence.

Obi-Wan stared tiredly down at the speeder for a very long time.

Anakin looked at his Padawan nervously.

But then Obi-Wan’s lips twitched beneath his beard, and then he chuckled, and then he burst into uproarious laughter. The sound was infectious; relieved and excited, the other two clung to him and laughed, all of them half-leaning on the railing, cackling like idiots.

They laughed until they ran out of breath, and then laughed a little more.

After a long while, Obi-Wan disentangled his arms from their controlling grips but immediately settled them back, one on Anakin’s shoulder and the other resting on Ahsoka’s back. “I think,” he said, “I promised you milkshakes. Dex’s?”

“Oh, I definitely remember you saying that!” Ahsoka said. “Dex’s is great.”

“Yeah, and you also definitely said you’d pay,” Anakin wheedled.

“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly.

“Awww. Worth a shot,” Anakin whispered to his Padawan.

Obi-Wan smiled. “I said I’d pay for Ahsoka’s. You, my Knighted former Padawan, can pay for your own dessert.”

Ahsoka cheered. Anakin groaned. They strolled off into the night, ambling without haste or urgency or fear, connected by light touches of the hands and arms, and by something deeper and unseen and familial.

There would be time for the war and politics later.

Right now, they were late for dessert.

fin

#aw man #I don’t know if I can write fluff that well but here goes #my babies #my darlings #disaster lineage #the team #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan and anakin #anakin and ahsoka #obi wan and ahsoka #let them be happy #please #fuck palpatine #skeevy sheev #hate his wrinkly ass #my writing #star wars #the clone wars #sw: tcw #dex’s diner

[favefandomimagines]

Help Would Be Nice (b.b)

Summary: bucky and sam run into a product of the infamous red room who happens to be their mission

AN: finally saw black widow in theaters a few weeks ago so i was inspired

You had been on the run since the Red Room and Dreykov were destroyed and having a newfound sense of freedom, there were things you had to accomplish.

Dreykov made you do terrible things and had terrible things done to you. Many doctors involved in the operation were killed once their job was done but a few lived to not tell the tale.

One being the very doctor who chemically subjugated you to mind control. Dreykov was dead and everyone else was dead and your taste for revenge would die with the man who held the syringe.

You spent months tracking him down, getting in touch with old contacts who may know where he was living. You had hoped you were keeping a low enough profile but since the snap, everyone had prying eyes.

Captain America, aka Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes had gotten the briefing on you. The folder was a large one and you were one of the most successful assassins to be product of the Red Room.

Bucky and Sam looked over you file and read up on you whilst on a plane to Moscow, your last known location.

“Subject is highly dangerous and very unpredictable. She seems to be after a Dr. Leo Novikov. He was a doctor for the Red Room during her time there. Apparently he was the one who inserted the mind control.” Ramirez explained.

“Mind control? I thought the Red Room used psychological conditioning.” Sam asked. “Not anymore. Since Natasha Romanoff got out and attempted to kill Dreykov, he made sure that no one else would escape. Created a chemical substance that once inserted can be used to control minds. Every Widow has it. Only a certain antidote can be used to undo the mind control. When the Red Room fell, she was exposed. Her mind is completely her own now.” The soldier explained.

“So she wants revenge on the man who took away her ability to choose.” Bucky concluded. “Seems that way, yeah. And when she doesn’t like an answer she gets, well let’s just say there’s been more dead leads than living ones.” Ramirez said. “Maybe we can talk her down. Tell her revenge isn’t the answer.” Sam said.

“Sam, she lost all of her free will and was forced to kill thousands of people. Can we blame her for wanting every trace of the Red Room gone?” Bucky spoke. “Look man, I get that you relate to her. You’ve both gone through similar stuff. But you weren’t on the revenge path after you escaped.” Sam rebutted. “Because I had Steve.” Bucky said. “She doesn’t have anyone.” He added.

Sam and Bucky fell into a silence, the latter trying to make everyone else understand what you were going through. You’ve been on your own since the age of 6 with some man making decisions for you.

You walked down a small alley way in Moscow towards the last location of Dr. Novikov. You were ready to end your torment once and for all. Once he was finally gone, you would be able to heal knowing the Red Room can’t hurt you anymore.

As you were walking, you kept getting the feeling someone was following you. Bucky had been tailing you for the past 20 minutes and you knew it too. He thought he was being stealthy enough until you stopped.

“Я могу вам помочь?” (Can I help you?) “Вы ищете доктора. (You’re looking for the doctor) “Мне не нужна помощь Мстителя. (I don’t need help from an Avenger)

“Good thing I’m not an Avenger.” Bucky spoke in English. “No, but Captain America must be perched around here somewhere.” You rebutted. “Just let me do what I need to do. I won’t be on your radar again.” You added.

“I understand what you’re feeling. What you went through in the Red Room.” He said. “No offense but I don’t need to hear the Winter Soldier sob story. We may be the same in that category but at least you’re able to start a family if you wanted it. At least they kept that choice for you to make.” You replied.

“Y/N, I get you want revenge on the people who hurt you. But you’ve already killed so many people, don’t you want to stop?” Bucky asked.

You were quiet for a moment as you took a couple steps toward him. “This time, I’ll be the one choosing the target.” You said quietly. “I’m sorry.” You whispered before punching him in the face and knocking him to the ground by sweeping his legs out from under him.

Before you could run off, the ex assassin grabbed your ankle causing you to fall to the ground. He made his way towards you and you kicked him in the chest, knocking him backwards as you regained your footing.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N.” He said. “And here I was worried about hurting you.” You commented. Bucky swung at you and you dodged it gracefully. Though when you tried to hit him he grabbed your fist but you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his neck.

You continued to apply pressure until you both fell to the ground. Bucky was trying to catch his breath and you stood up.

You took off in a sprint as he recuperated and you knew that if you didn’t kill the doctor soon, Captain America would take you in.

Turning down another alley, you found the home of the doctor. Taking a second to catch your breath, you stared at the address plate before pulling out your gun. You kicked down the door, gun drawn as you stepped inside.

“Ah, Молодая вдова.” (Young Widow) “Ты знаешь кто я?” (Do you know who I am?) “Одна из девушек Дрейкова.” (One of Dreykov’s girls)

“You’ve come to get revenge, yes? On the things I did to you.” Novikov spoke in English. “How many other girls did you steal their freedom from?” You questioned. “Too many to count.” He answered. “And you feel no remorse for what you did.” You said. “I did what was asked of me.” He said.

You cocked the gun back as you pointed it as his head but as you did so, you heard the sounds of people outside. Maybe Bucky Barnes had a point. You had killed so many people before and you didn’t want to be a ruthless trained killer anymore.

But the man had taken so much from you. He was just as guilty as Dreykov and given that you couldn’t kill Dreykov all over again, the doctor would have to suffice.

“Do you still have it in you, вдова?” He asked in a very condescending tone. A tone that really ticked you off. You laughed bitterly before pulling the trigger, the bullet entering his head.

His body fell to the floor with a thud and the tact team that was stationed outside the house began yelling in urgency, so you decided to give yourself up. You opened the front door hands up, gun hanging loosely from two fingers.

“I’m done. So might as well take me in.” You said, eyes fixated on Bucky. One of the tactical officers with them, snatched the gun from your hand while another grabbed your forearm.

“Wait, wait, we can’t arrest her.” Bucky protested. “Why not? She killed someone.” The man questioned. “Because that man knew how to take a way a person’s free will. He was dangerous, she took him out.” He explained.

“Buck,” Sam started. “Did we really want a guy like that around?” He asked. “Well, no,” Sam said. “Then why would she need to be arrested?” Bucky questioned.

You looked between Bucky and Sam before Sam sighed. “Let her go. But you’re coming back to DC with us. To make sure no one else from the Red Room is still at large.” He said.

You nodded your head as you followed the two men. As you walked, you could see Sam Wilson take glances at you over his shoulder every so often. 

“Is there something you want to say?” You asked. “Why’d you wanna kill him?” Sam asked. You were quiet for a second, looking at the back of Bucky’s head before you replied. 

“Every aspect of HYDRA is gone, right? Well as far as you know?” You started. “Yeah, for the most part. A couple sympathizers and here and there.” Sam said. “Then Bucky gets peace. He doesn’t have to wonder every day why the people who tortured him just got away with no consequences. That’s not what it was like for me. Since I got out all I thought about was who was still alive? Who was living a normal life after taking away mine? It ate me alive so I took matters into my own hands. Now he can’t hurt anyone else.” You answered. 

The two men didn’t really know how to reply to your explanation. Bucky thought you made a point. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if he knew the people who made him the Winter Soldier were still alive. He might have been on the same war path you were on. 

They walked up to the plane they arrived on and you stopped and just stared at it. You were free, your torturers gone and yet you still felt like the other shoe was going to drop. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked you. “Why do I feel like I’m still not free?” You questioned. “It takes a while to feel like you’re really okay. I still have nightmares every night. But I’m getting better. You will too in time.” He answered. “But you have people to help you. I-I don’t have anyone. I mean, sure I have the other Widows but we aren’t really a family or friends for that matter.” You rebutted. 

“I can help you. I’ve been where you are, not knowing what to do next because you’re still waiting for something to go wrong. I’m not 100% myself yet either but maybe we can help each other get better.” Bucky said. 

You looked up at the man for a moment before nodding your head. “Help would be nice.” You replied. 

Bucky gave you a very small, almost invisible smile before leading you to the plane.

You had your doubts at first at how well he was going to keep his promise, but Bucky Barnes did just that. He helped you and helping you was helping himself.

#imagine #imagines #marvel imagine #marvel #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #yelena belova

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life Goes On

This if for @buckybarnesplumwhore​

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; grieving, funeral, breeding, handcuffs, warnings are not exhaustive so read at your own discretion.

This is dark! Andy Barber x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You volunteer at the local youth center but when one of the kids meets an unfortunate end, you cross paths with his father. No stranger to grief, you try to help him cope but find it a bigger than task that you expected.

Note: When I started writing, I had no plan. When I kept writing, there was still no plan. And then it just all kinda happened.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

It was too sunny for a funeral. A funeral come too soon.

The service was held out in the sun, rows of wooden chairs and a sombre old priest. You never knew if the Barbers were religious but it was easy to find a holy man in Massachusetts, as easy as those early years of settlement found in textbooks. 

There were no flowers, only two oblong caskets shrouded in black cloth, the name of each of the dead on silver placards, no pictures, no souvenir of who they were.

It was like Andy was already trying to forget them. He was at the front, the grieving widower and father. You were lost somewhere in the middle with his co-workers, there out of propriety more than empathy, and distant relatives who attended out of courtesy, some passing acquaintances who followed the story in the papers more than out of compassion. It was a spectacle and Andy had done his best from feeding the leering onlookers.

You knew Jacob more than his parents. He was younger than you, almost ten years apart. You knew him from the youth group you volunteered for, the same one you'd been in at his age. He was out of place there, he was from a better neighbourhood than the other kids, they called him the rich brat, and he resented himself more for it than he did them.

His attendance kept his mother happy. He didn't like the individual counseling, he didn't talk, so she put him in the group and he talked there. Sometimes. The kids never went on philosophical monologues but they understood each other and shared what they needed to.

Laurie was always late to pick him up. So he stayed to help stack the chairs and you ended up waiting with him, making sure he wasn't alone in the dark. He hated that at first too, until he realised you weren't on the stoop to council or judge. You were just two people, chatting to pass the time.

Sometimes Andy picked him up. He was friendlier than Laurie. Jacob's mother was always in a rush, even on her way home where there was no deadline. She said thanks, maybe, and drove off as she began to lecture Jacob about how he wore his hat. Andy offered you a ride, every time, as if he had some compulsion to be the good guy, the saviour. You always said no, the bus was a five minute ride to your building, fifteen minutes if you walked.

Now Jacob was dead, his mother too. Another tragedy inflicted upon those least likely. Even death didn't stop the whispers, even that venue, the priest's collar, the Biblical dirges, the grim family man in black did not silence them. It sickened you as the service ended and the people rose in a hushed murmur.

Andy left without talking to anyone. The procession of cars would drive through the streets with flags to mark the grieving on their way to the interment. It was as if Andy was doing what was expected more than what he felt he owed the deceased. He was ever the lawyer, formal and curt.

You followed the grey parade. Not out of obligation but out of genuine regret. Jacob seemed like a lost kid, even in death. The rumours, the accusations, the suspicion, followed him. The people didn't watch the dirt fall from the shovel to see him at peace, they watched it as some grand finale to the great show of the Barbers.

When the metal no longer cut and scattered the soil, the crowd thinned out. You stayed as the diggers packed up. You were sad for Jacob, for Laurie. Andy hadn't been there to see the burial. You couldn't blame him but you were surprised. He just disappeared after the service, apparently done with his part in the play. 

You went closer and stared at the new stone that stretched above both plots. Laurie Barber… and her son, Jacob Barber. May they rest. It was as short, as minimal as anything else about the affair. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. You didn't know if Jacob was a bad seed, it wasn't your job to make that call, but he had just been a kid and all that potential was now six feet down.

"Didn't think anyone would stick around," the dark figure stepped up beside you, his steps muted by the grass, "least of all, you."

"I'm sorry, I…" you looked at Andy and then the dirt, "I'll go."

"Wait," he said before you could move, "I thought-- I thought I wanted to be alone for this…" he shoved his hand in his pocket, "but I've been alone since it happened and I'm realising, I'm gonna be alone from here on out."

You didn't say a word. You didn't know what you could say. He'd heard a hundred apologies, a hundred condolences.

"I'm happy someone stayed, that someone cared," he cleared his throat, "thank you."

You nodded and played with the buttons on your cardigan.

"He was too. Happy, you know, that someone cared. I think back now and I realise that you probably saw him more than me. He was always excited to go to the centre but he got in that car and he just… deflated." He shook his head, "maybe this is better. One way or the other, he wanted to get away from me but he never could get away from Laurie. She wouldn't let him go."

He chuckled sardonically but it quickly fizzled in his throat.

"Sorry, I'm rambling…"

"You're processing," you said, "a lot of the kids down at the centre, they lost parents, one way or the other, orphans, fosters… I always told them that they didn't have to make sense because grief never really does."

"Now that makes a lot of sense," he said, "but you shouldn't have to listen to me."

"I shouldn't or you don't think you should say any of it?"

"Hmmm," he hummed, "yeah, maybe."

"I don't get paid to listen to those kids, I just get a time and a place to do so. This isn't different. It's just talking and a lot of that is just figuring things out. Listening is easy, you're doing the hard part."

"Jeez, you come up with this stuff on your own or is there some sort of how-to book?"

You lifted your chin and sucked in your lip. You could tell where Jacob got the bite from.

"Sorry, that was… mean," he said after the silence settled with the dirt, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you said.

"You got somewhere to be?"

"No…" you answered cautiously.

"Do you think you might wanna listen to me a little more? I'll buy you a coffee for the trouble."

"You wanna talk? To me?"

"Better than anyone I do know," he snorted, "they all just give me that dumb look. They pity me, judge me. You don't have to say yes but I started now, if I stop, I'll...stop."

"Coffee?" You glanced over at him, "I'd rather tea."

"I'm sure they got that too," he fiddled with the trim of his pocket, "anytime you wanna bail, let me know."

"If I can handle teen angst, I think I can handle you."

🖤

That afternoon wasted away in the corner of a café. It felt like any other day but for Andy, you knew, it was likely the worst day of his life. Likely a day he wouldn’t forget. You sat patiently until the last of your tea was cold. He didn’t finish his coffee, he hardly even touched it. When you checked the time, he looked down embarrassed.

“It’s late,” he said, “I… I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

“I didn’t have anything to do. I doubt you did either,” you swept up the paper cup and your purse.

“No, really, I mean, you don’t know me. You knew Jacob and I just sat here and talked your ear off for hours. I--” he looked out the window, “I know that when I go home, the house will still be empty. That’s why I’m here.”

You looked past him as he turned back. You chewed your lip, “Andy, have you looked into counseling yet?”

“It feels… too early for that.”

“Too early?”

“I don’t want to let it go. Don’t want to let them go,” he sucked his hands in his pockets, “if I go, that’s what they’ll tell me to do.”

“No, they’d help you live with it, not forget it,” you said, “but I know, it’s scary. Have you done anything? Read anything?”

“Read?”

“Self-help isn’t for everyone and those dummy books aren’t great I admit, but sometimes a start is better than nothing. What about… a routine? Do you have one?”

“I work, I come home, I sleep, and try not to notice they’re gone,” he shrugged, “and repeat. Lot of overtime.”

“You’re still working?” you went to the door and he followed.

“Well, I talked to you. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”

You stepped out into the evening din and spun to look at him. You crossed your arms and stood across from him on the pavement.

“Well, unfortunately there’s an age limit down at the centre,” you said, “but I could give you a number for an adult group.”

“No, I don’t wanna talk to a group of sad parents and widowers. Just remind me how pathetic I really am,” he scoffed.

“Do you think that what you’re doing right now is better?”

“Do you have a degree in this?” he wondered, “what are you doing down at that youth centre talking to degenerates?”

“I have a certificate that says I’m good at listening, but no, I couldn’t afford a degree,” you dropped your arms, “but, will you come down? Sit in on a session. Just listen… for Jacob? It helped him, I think, after a while?”

“With the kids?”

“Yeah, with the kids,” you said, “maybe it will help you decide.”

“Decide what?”

“If you’re going to keep doing what you're doing; nothing, or if you’re going to try. Trust me, after a while, just sitting there, ignoring it, it gets old and it won’t get better.”

He looked down and stared at his leather shoe as he ground his toe into the pavement, “is that allowed? Am I allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not. I have parents sit in all the time.”

“But I’m not-- not anymore,” he gulped.

“You are,” you patted his arm gently, “you always will be.”

“What time?” he raised his head.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays at four-thirty. We do accept late arrivals. Kids come in and out. Usually hang out til seven before I let them go.”

“I think I can make that work,” he exhaled deeply, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me.”

You nodded and gave a bittersweet smile, “I miss Jacob too. I might be little more than a glorified babysitter but it means something to me. The kids… they feel like they’re mine sometimes. At least on those two nights a week.”

“Well…” he peered down the street, “you need a ride?”

You chuckled quietly, “you now, I think this time, I do.”

🖤

Andy was early. He took a chair near the wall as the kids flopped on the low sofas and into the colourful armchairs. A government grant had seen an upgrade in the lounge, although the kitchen needed some work as the cooking classes were still short on supplies. Dark circles darkened his eyes and the hairline wrinkles around them added to the hollow effect. He wasn’t sleeping.

You waited for the room to quiet. You greeted the kids and went through the usual ice breaker; one bad thing, one good thing, and one way they could improve the bad. Many of them were reluctant at first, they resisted what they thought were cheesy and inane exercises but they all came around. They were able to voice things that otherwise would be kept to themselves and they were afforded a respectful and often rapt audience.

When you finished, you kept from naming your own three. You looked at Andy.

“I’m sorry, everyone, I’m so forgetful. This is Andy,” you gestured to him, “he’s sitting in with us today. Andy, why don’t you tell us your bad thing, your good thing, and one thing you can do to improve the bad.”

He looked startled but he stood and cleared his throat. He glanced around at the kids and the shadow left his face. “Well, I lost a file, there were free bagels at work, and… I guess I could try to look again tomorrow.”

“Very good,” you smiled, “alright, my turn at last. My bad thing is I spilled tea on my shirt, my good thing is it’s a dark shirt, and my thing to improve is… wear a bib.” You laughed as you audience stay stone faced, “alright, alright, I’ll just be more careful and not run with hot liquids.”

You sat and started with Danica. She was always the most talkative, that encouraged the other kids. Today was no exception and you had to remind her to save some time for everyone else. Erik was next, then Andre, and Shamea. You almost didn’t notice Andy as he stood and sidled against the wall. Not until he was at the door, he looked back darkly and you saw his chest fall heavily. His nostrils flared and he was gone.

You tried not to show your disappointment, tried not to let the kids notice. They were all caught up in the circle and breaking it was never good. Shamea passed the stuffed bunny to Naima and you focused on her. Maybe it was too soon for Andy, you understood that, but you hoped too that he might have found a piece of Jacob there.

Before the kids left, you handed out the coloured markers and they each scribbled down a few words before a high-five. They passed through the open door in pairs and singles, and you bent to add your own note. You tucked the card into your bag and locked up. Jacob was usually the only one to hang around. Not anymore.

You headed out the front door with a wave to Martha at the front desk and took a gulp of the fresh evening air. There was someone sat on the flat stone at the bottom of the broad rail of the stairs. You recognised Andy as you neared, much too big to be a teen.

“I’m sorry,” he dabbed his nose with his sleeve, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay in that room.”

“But you’re still here,” you said.

“I didn’t wanna just leave you hanging but… they all remind me of him,” he stood, “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies,” you opened your purse and searched, “I had the kids put this together. Actually, it was Milo’s idea. He didn’t know it was you but he wanted to send it in the mail--”

“What?” he took the card and opened it. He turned so he could read it in the yellow light of the street lamp, “oh my god.”

“Is it too much?”

“No, no,” he ran his thumb over the ink, “it’s…” he closed it and tucked it into his jacket, “the only other thing I’ve got is the bill for the caskets. It’s… amazing. Thank you.”

“Not at all. They always surprise me,” you said, “most of the time, in good ways.”

“You need a ride?” he checked his watch.

“I don’t live far,” you waved him off, “but I always appreciate the offer.”

He nodded and frowned, “and if… if I didn’t want to be alone? Would you grab a burger with me? Have you eaten?”

“Not since lunch, I, uh… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you said.

“You gotta be up early?”

“Nah, not too early.”

“What do you do? I mean, outside of this?” he turned and directed you to his car.

“Data entry,” you sighed, “it’s not very exciting but I work remotely and the pay is decent and I still have time for the kids.”

“It’s a living,” he said as the door locks clicked and you grabbed the handle, “no judgment. Trust me, being a lawyer, it’s really not as glamourous as it seems.”

🖤

Andy’s routine changed. He came around every Thursday and listened. After a few weeks, the kids figured out who he was. They didn’t treat him any differently and even invited him to join in on the teambuilding games you arranged. He wasn’t bad help as you welcomed a few new members from the group home.

That night, you weren’t feeling great. Even the kids hadn’t helped much. You were exhausted and nauseous. You blamed it on the late night shawarma. You said goodbye to the kids and packed up. Andy stacked the chairs without you asking, even when you told him not to.

You leaned heavily on the table and checked your phone before slipping it into your bag. You wiped your forehead and shivered. Some gravol, ginger ale, and sleep would be your indulgence that night.

“You okay?” Andy asked.

“Stomach thing,” you rubbed your middle, “nothing major.”

“You don’t look great,” he said, “well, I don’t mean it like-- are you sure--”

“Oh, gee,” you slid past him and out the door.

You ran to the restroom across the hall and into a stall. You wretched and the acid seared your throat. The bile bubbled in the toilet water and you shuddered. You heaved a few more times and rinsed your mouth in the sink.

Andy was waiting for you in the hall, “let me drive you tonight,” he insisted, “even if it’s just a block away.”

“I can’t even say no,” you grumbled as he handed you your purse.

“What’s wrong? You eat something?”

“I think,” you groaned as he held the door open and the cool air outside chilled the sweat on your neck, “urgh, I hope it’s only that.”

You got to his car and fell heavily into the seat. You slumped against the console as he started the car. He paused as the engine idled and felt your forehead. He nudged you back against the seat and turned his hand to press the back of his fingers to your cheek.

“You got a fever,” he said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”

“Oh, those kids carry bugs like rats,” you muttered, “just take me home, I’ll get over it.”

He pulled out of his spot and you closed your eyes. You leaned against the window, frigid against your forehead and hugged yourself. You dozed off before he even turned out of the lot, the belt keeping you from folding over entirely.

🖤

You woke up between fresh linen. The sunlight was soft in its early hues. It wasn't your bed. You rolled onto your side and your stomach ached from how empty it was. You pushed back the thick duvet, you were sweating. You didn't remember more than the car ride and a few fuzzy glimpses of the bottom of a bucket. 

You were cold again and pulled the blanket back. The door was open and Andy filled it as if he'd heard your grumbles. He stood at the bottom of the bed in a pair of plaid pants and a blue tee.

"Why am I here?" You asked. 

"You fell asleep. You're sick. I couldn't just leave you outside your building," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Bad," you replied curtly, "I can go," you sat up, "stop by the pharmacy, go hide in my own bed."

"You should stay here," he insisted, "just until the fever breaks."

"Really… ugh," you moaned as your belly clenched, "Andy, I should--"

"Lay down?" He came around and caught your shoulder, "I used to call in sometimes when Jacob was home sick. When he was a lot younger and… I stir up a man cup of noodles."

"You don't have to--"

"It's completely selfish," he interrupted, "it's been a long time since I had someone to take care of or at least it feels like it."

You were light-headed as you tried to stand but he kept you from getting to your feet, "I guess I can stay a little longer."

"Don't act like I don't owe you," he tutted, "now relax. I'll get you some soup. You need something in your system. I got some anti-nausea pills in the cupboard, too."

"Thanks but you don't owe me anything. I'm gonna owe you big."

"Why don't we just call it even then," he backed up, "seeing as that's my bed and my couch, it's really not made for sleeping." He stretched his arms and his shoulders cracked, "especially at my age."

🖤

You stayed another night. You tried to convince Andy to let you take the couch instead but he was a lawyer and rarely lost an argument. It was easier to eat by the evening but you were still dizzy and you couldn't stop yawning. You'd never been so tired.

Despite your uneasiness at overstaying your welcome, you slept more heavily than before. Your guilt didn't keep you awake for long as you sank into a deep sleep and you woke slowly, a murmur escaping your lips as grogginess weighed you down. You were still so very tired but it was already morning.

You stretched and your wrist caught. You winced and tugged at your arm. You sat up in horror as you stared at the metal cuff attached to the hoop drilled into the headboard. You tugged until your arm hurt and your hand throbbed. What the fuck.

"Andy! Andy! What--"

"Shhhhh," Andy hushed you as he entered, "it's okay, you're okay."

"No, I'm not. What did you do?" You pulled again and the metal pinched your skin.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he said calmly.

"Unlock it. Let me go," you struggled as you kicked off the blankets, "Andy, what the fuck?"

"Hey, don't talk like that. It's...nasty."

"I don't understand," you began to pant, "why are you doing this?"

The panic crawled like tendrils up your neck and back. You twisted and pulled but the metal cuff didn't budge. You felt the bed shift and Andy grabbed your shoulder. He forced you down, pinning your other hand beside your head.

"I'm taking care of you," he said, "don't be so ungrateful."

"I can take care of myself. Let me go, please."

"No, you need me," he snarled, "like I need you."

"Andy, you're wrong--"

"Stop!" He covered your mouth, "stop! You don't know what you need. Now be still. Be quiet." He squeezed until your jaw hurt, "don't make this difficult."

He slowly lifted his hand and you didn’t move. You stared at his hand then looked at his face. There was a desperate anger in the depths of his oceanic eyes. He sat back and his jaw clenched as he watched you.

"I'm going to make breakfast. Be good. You need to eat." He backed off the bed and went to the door, "I mean it."

He left you and you listened until pans clinked and clanged in the kitchen below. You folded your thumb against your palm and tried to wiggle free of the cuff. It was too tight. There was only one other way out and you couldn't do it alone.

"HELP! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!" You screamed, "someone help me!"

The footsteps hammered up the stairs and Andy stormed in. He grabbed you and clamped his hand over your mouth again.

"Listen, no one can hear you, you got that? Windows are soundproof, but I really don't want to hear it so it's up to you if I gag you."

You blinked and your lip trembled against his hand. Your eyes rounded and you nodded stiffly. He tore his hand away and sighed as he clapped his hands on his legs in frustration.

"Good," he said quietly, "now, let's just hope," he stood and strode to the door, "that the bacon didn't burn."

🖤

You fell asleep again shortly after eating, even with the adrenaline and panic surging through your veins. You woke again in the afternoon. Your limbs were heavy but the fever was gone and your stomach felt better but you were still terribly tired. 

Andy was there. He had a leather file in his lap as he looked over papers and scratched his beard. He sensed your movement and looked over at you.

"Hungry?" He asked, "you slept through lunch."

"No," you smelled your sweat on the duvet, "but… can I have a shower? I haven't...since I got here."

"A shower?" He closed the folder and stood. He set it down and pursed his lips as he thought. "Fifteen minutes," he said as he dug around in his pocket, "I'll be here."

He unlocked the cuff and you rubbed your wrist as you sat up. He stayed close as you rose and stayed between you and the bedroom door as he pointed you to the bathroom.

"I don't have much for you to wear yet but you can take another one of my shirts," he said.

You nodded and closed the door between you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself to the wind. How was this the same man that you spoke to that day at the cemetery?

🖤

He slept beside you that night. You were on your side, your arm bound again by the cuff with the pillow between it and your head. You were uncomfortable, more so with him against your back. He wore only a pair of boxers. You shied away when he undressed and never looked at him again.

You dozed despite your nerves. You couldn't shake the drowsiness. You just felt more and more tired. When you opened your eyes, his arm was around you. He ran his fingers over your stomach, fingers crawling beneath the baggy tee shirt. You shivered and he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"I was thinking… well, I've been thinking for a while now, how happy we could be," he said, "I'm still young enough to try again, do it right and you… you're young, ready." His hand brushed up to your chest and he cupped your tit, "you're kind, you're caring, you're...beautiful. You’re my second chance."

“Andy,” your voice was brittle as your pulse beat furiously, “what you’re doing, it’s not right. You need to let me go.”

He went rigid and his hand stopped. He unsnaked his arm from around you and the springs coiled as he fell heavily onto his back. In the silence, you could only hear his steady breaths and a low growl.

“No, I’m helping you,” he said, “like you’ve helped me.”

“Andy, please,” you eased onto your back and looked over at him, “this isn’t how you fix this.”

“How do I?” he snarled, “huh? How? You don’t know!” he sat up and glared down at you, “you can’t know.”

“You think hurting me is helping me? That’s what you’re doing.”

“No, no, no,” he bent his legs as he grasped his head and gripped it as if it would crack, “No! I haven’t hurt you. I feed you, I keep you clean, I… I take care of you!”

“Andy,” you reached over shakily and touched his bare shoulder, “this isn’t what I want and I know you don’t want it either. You want someone who really loves you--”

“You love me!” he turned so quickly you yelped. He gripped your jaw tightly as he held himself against you, “you love me,” he pressed his lips to yours and you murmured in surprise, “you love me,” it was a maddened chant as he pulled back, “...love me.”

“And--”

His hand flew up to smother you and he lifted himself over you. His knees pressed to your legs until they parted and his other hand explored your curves through the rumpled cotton. You squeaked and tensed against his touch, your wrist chafing from the cuff.

“Shhh,” he hushed as he pushed the shirt up.

He kept his hand on your mouth as he slid down your body and left a trail of kisses along your torso as he unveiled it. He bunched the tee above your chest and bent to dote on your tits. You shuddered and pushed on his head as you mumbled into his palm.

His fingers tickled along your side and hooked into the side of the drawstring shorts he gave you. He tugged until the string snapped and edged them down as he continued to tend to your chest. You kicked around him and felt his bulge as he leaned into you.

He ripped his hand away and sat up. He grabbed the waist of the shorts and wrenched them down your legs, quickly taking his between them again. You wriggled and batted out at his chest as his thumbs pressed against your hip bones and his hands crept down to knead your thighs.

“I can start again,” he brushed his fingers down your vee and you trembled as they danced along your cunt.

“No, Andy, please, you can still stop--”

“Shhhh, honey,” he pushed between your folds and you gasped, “it’s okay. I’ll still take care of you,” he glided over your cunt and made you twitch, “and the baby.”

He poked along your entrance and you whined helplessly as you reached to the cuff and pulled with both arms. Every muscles in your strained as you tried to break free of the headboard. He pushed a finger inside of you and you cried out.

“Andy, stop, please, no--”

He added another finger and slipped them in and out of you as he purred. You looked at his face and it sent a chill through you. His eyes were dark and clung to the movement of his hand, his brow set and his jaw squared with his intent. He wasn’t the grieving widower, he wasn’t the man lost and lonely, he was a monster.

“That’s it,” he turned his hand and flicked your clit with his thumb, “you want me. I feel it.”

You looked away as your wetness spread to his knuckles and along your folds. He kept his thumb moved as he curled his fingers inside of you and the pressure built as the tip of his touch. You gritted your teeth and shook your head helplessly.

“No,” you whispered, “no, no, no…”

He took his hand away suddenly and you felt empty. He lifted himself on his knees and rolled down his boxers. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t, you only saw the silhouette of his nudity.

He pushed your thighs apart and spread himself over you, his elbow just beside you as he felt around between your bodies. His hot breath grazed your cheek and he kissed it firmly as he angled his tip between your folds. Your thighs clenched around him in a futile act of resistance as he found your entrance.

He pushed inside slowly and brought his other arm up beside you. He forced your head straight and you squeezed your eyes shut. He cradled your head between his hands and his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Andy,” you murmured as he slowly got deeper, “please--”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “look at me!”

Your eyes snapped open and met his stormy blue ones. He bucked his hips and impaled you completely. You exclaimed and grasped his thick bicep in shock, your other hand balled above the cuff. Your legs bent around his thick thighs as you tried to stop him.

“God, you feel so good,” he purred as he began to rock, “don’t I feel good too?”

Your lashes fluttered away the rising tears and you sucked your lip in to keep from making a sound. You could look away as he held your head straight, his hand clamping around your jaw as he other arm bent beneath yours.

The room echoed with the noise of his flesh slapping yours as he sped up, his grunts and groans interlaced with the sickening symphony. You quivered as his pelvis rubbed against yours and stoked the heat in your core. You could not hold back the illicit response of your body as he ravaged it.

Your breath grew heavier and he gulped it down as he kissed you again, forcing his tongue between your lips as he devoured you. The whole bed moved in time with your body and the headboard knocked against the wall as his thrusts came closer and closer together and he buried himself as deep as he could with each tilt of his hips.

He drew his mouth away and pressed his cheek to yours as his muscles tensed and he puffed into the pillow, “this is it, honey. It all starts here.”

“Ah, please…” your voice fizzled and smothered your moan against his shoulder as your body spasmed. Your legs bent around him firmly as you orgasmed and your body arched beneath his desperately.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it. You take me so well. See… it was meant to… be.”

His breaths grew more rampant with his rhythm. His hand slipped down to cradle your cheek and his thumb stroked your flesh tenderly as he dipped into you over and over. His deep groans grew louder around you. He jerked into you sharply and his motion stuttered. He gripped your hip and held you down as he sheathed himself in your walls. 

He quaked as his hips slowed and he flooded you. He exhaled and as his lungs emptied, the strength left him entirely and he lowered himself over you weakly. His body pressed yours into the mattress, your sweat and his turned sticky as the air settled over you.

He stayed like that for what felt like forever. He moved slowly to lift himself up and he sat back, watching his dick slide out of you. Your thighs shook as your legs splayed around him. You felt his cum leak from you and he dragged his fingers along your cunt and scooped it back into you, coating his fingers in as he pushed them past your entrance once more. He smiled at the wet sounds of your cunt.

“That felt like the one,” he said, “but we can try again...”

He pulled his fingers out of you and admired the slickness that glistened over them. He reached down and gripped his dick, half-soft and spent. He winced as he began to stroke himself and let out stifled moans between his teeth.

“Maybe this time,” he purred as he angled himself inside of you again and lifted your legs against his torso. He bit his lips as he trembled, his cock oversensitive and overworked, “as many times as it takes, honey.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #one shot #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 9)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7) (chapter 8)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (semi-public fingering, specifically), angst... I think that's it

After your impromptu motorcycle drive you stayed out all night; exploring the empty city, ducking into dive bars if they were still open, dancing in the streets to music only the two of you could hear.

The city was so eerily empty at night, nothing like a metropolitan complex like London. But it was less creepy and more peaceful, especially when you were walking with Sebastian hand-in-hand along the cobblestone path. He started to swing your hand as you walked and it made you laugh.

“Teach me more Romanian words, please,” you requested, looking at him and struggling to fight your smile. “Română?”

“Eu voi,” he nodded, looking around and pointing to the ground. “Stradă.”

“Stradă... we call it the street,” you answered. “Or road. Road?” you prompted.

“Road,” he repeated.

“Good! Your pronunciation isn’t too bad either,” you grinned.

“Copac,” he announced as he pointed to a tree.

“Copac,” you repeated. “In English, it’s tree.”

“Tree,” he smiled. “Engleza este o prostie.”

He suddenly pulled you into him and spun you around in a twirl, making you laugh. “Dans,” he said as he stepped his feet in time with yours. “A dansa.”

“Yeah, dancing,” you smiled. “I haven’t danced in years, you know, except for tonight.”

He surprised you with a sudden kiss that was unexpectedly chaste, just a press of his lips on yours that either lasted longer than it normally would or just slowed time for a moment. “Sărut,” he whispered when he pulled back.

”Sărut,” you repeated.

“Aș putea să te sărut ore în șir. Ai cele mai perfecte buze,” he breathed, running his thumb over your bottom lip which had gone slack just from listening to him talk.

Your fingers trailed down over the portion of his chest exposed by his unbuttoned collar. “I didn’t know I could feel this way about somebody,” you admitted aloud to yourself. “I wish I could stay…”

His hands lifted your face to look up at him. “Nu face asta. Nu te mai ascunde în gândurile tale. Fi cu mine.”

“Sărut?” you requested, making him grin.

“Da, iubirea mea,” he cooed as he leaned in and kissed you again, smiling into it.

You really hadn't even liked kissing all that much before you met him… you just hadn't seen the appeal beyond warming up to more exciting activities, but now? This was all the excitement you needed; you could kiss him for hours and never get bored.

That said, apparently Sebastian had exciting plans of his own, because you found yourself being backed up against a brick wall, his hands exploring your body— subtle at first, just rubbing your arms and gripping your waist, but then it got less ambiguous as you felt his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, just barely grazing over your stomach.

His touch trailed higher, nearly reaching your breast but stopping just before: you didn't mean to whine impatiently, but you heard it muffled against his lips and felt him chuckle lightly, breaking the kiss and leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"Atât de nevoiași," he hummed, nibbling on your earlobe as your thighs clenched together much too strongly when he'd barely touched you.

You clutched at his shirt, watching as his hand moved down to the top of your pants, the tips of his fingers just barely breaching past the fabric and starting to slide down.

"Here?" you gasped, finally remembering you were in public though you hadn't seen another person out here since you left the bar.

His hand moved lower down and your stomach fluttered with the forbidden nature of it all, feeling like a rebellious high schooler fooling around behind the movie theater when you both had curfew in ten minutes. But then he found your clit right away and it was nothing like high school.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered, shuddering and pushing your hips up to silently beg for more. He rubbed circles over your bud and smiled against your neck, already making it a struggle for you to stay quiet.

“Un alt cuvânt pe care ar trebui să-l știi,” he whispered, the pitch of his voice making it clear he was saying something beautifully filthy, “este dracu. Vreau să te dracu.”

“Seba, please,” you sighed.

"Dar nu cred că o pot face aici," he added with a soft laugh.

Two fingers suddenly pushed into you and didn't seem to struggle with it at all since he already had you soaked, curling into a tender spot inside you right away.

“Yes,” you whined.

“Yes?” he repeated with a smirk.

“Yes,” you said it again, “fuck yes.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, the word that was so familiar to you almost sounding foreign when he said it. “Spui asta mult. Cred că asta înseamnă că vei veni.”

“Your fingers feel so good,” you moaned, barely enough air in your lungs to get the words out. "Please… please don't stop…"

He kissed you again, open-mouthed and desperate as you both breathed heavily, his tongue sliding against yours as if to taste your moans. Hoping to stay upright now that your knees felt a little wobbly, you slipped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. That, in turn, led to you feeling the hard outline of his cock pressing against your thigh and you nearly melted right there, wishing you could feel him inside you now but figuring it probably wasn't worth the risk of being arrested for indecent exposure.

By now he knew you like the back of his hand, it seemed, because you were already throttling full speed ahead toward the edge, shocks of heat jumping up your spine each time he curled his fingers inside you.

"I— I'm gonna—" you stammered through your warning. He nodded, moving his fingers faster as you bit your lip a little too hard.

Just when you thought you couldn't help but cry out he kissed you one more time, rough and hungry, and muffled the sounds of you reaching your peak literally by his hand.

Everything that had twisted and snapped all at once began to soothe as you sighed and pushed his hand away slowly, feeling your walls spasm one more time when he slipped his fingers out and slid them right over your clit.

He pulled his hand out of your pants and brought his fingers to your lips; you dutifully cleaned them off for him, watching his lips twitch into a brief snarl when you took his fingers down your throat.

"Vom termina asta mai târziu," he promised darkly as he pulled you off of the wall and spun you around, and you wanted to return the favor but he stopped your hand from sliding up his thigh. "Mai târziu," he insisted, instead guiding you around the block and back to where his bike was parked.

Hopping on the back again as he started it up, you relished the change to cling onto his back tightly. He drove you through the empty streets, over sprawling hills and through stone archways, but just as you noticed this wasn’t the way to get back to the farmhouse, he slowed down and turned into a place to park.

“Why are you pulling over?” you asked, furrowing your brow as he parked the bike and motioned for you to get off with him. “Where are we going?”

“Ai incredere in mine,” he smiled as he took your helmet off for you and kissed you again, quickly, taking your hand and guiding you down a secluded path. You followed him down a few strange alleys, under clotheslines and sconces that started to dim with the oncoming morning light. Finally, he navigated you around a turn, through a tight gap, and out of nowhere you were on an overlook; one that gave you the perfect view of the sun beginning to rise over the city. “Wow,” you whispered, watching enraptured as soft yellow light overtook everything, the village and the woods in the distance beginning to come to life.

“Vremuri de genul ăsta mă fac să-mi fie dor de casă,” he sighed, before looking at you again from where he leaned on his elbows over the stone railing. “Îți faci mai ușor. Nu mai sunt singur.”

“This place is so beautiful, I’ve never lived anywhere like this before,” you admitted. “Maybe it’s just that it’s different that makes me like it so much… I guess I could say the same about you.”

Your eyes met his again, and the way he looked at you… it was like he saw right through you. Honestly, it was a bit terrifying. You'd never been so vulnerable to someone. You liked it more than you expected.

But it still scared you.

"Haide, hai să mergem acasă," he smiled as he stood upright again and took your hand.

"Let's get back to the house," you decided, but he was already leading you back to the bike where you rode through the countryside one more time, doing your best to memorize it all while you still had the chance.

You found tears in your eyes, though you didn’t remember crying, as you typed the final page of your manuscript.

It was a first draft, nothing close to a completed novel, but you were on your way to jumpstarting your career again. The only problem? You couldn’t have a career here. You couldn’t be published while living here, you couldn’t even edit this thing properly without a computer and you didn’t even have one here.

You needed to go home.

It killed you to realize that this was not a sustainable system: you living here— Hungary or Mrs. Alberti’s lakehouse— and falling in love with a near-stranger.

Sure, it was good for what it needed to be; he reminded you what it was like to be cherished and cared for, maybe you helped him break some dry spell (although you couldn’t imagine that this guy was anything but drowning in pussy all the time, but whatever). Regardless, it couldn’t last. It wasn’t meant to be anything other than… whatever it was meant to be.

You flipped through the pages of what you’d written already, admiring the journey that you saw on the paper— not just that of the characters, but your own as well. You could feel the weakness in your own voice in that first chapter, as if your hurt was right there painted on the page with the ink-pressed letters. You could remember shakily typing these words, hoping they would distract you from the fears and memories that plagued your mind.

A few chapters in, you could see the hope and optimism that built with the action of the story. You could feel your own love mirrored in the way you wrote your story, it was painfully powerful.

It brought a sense of closure, in a way; it gave you a chance to appreciate everything you’d learned from this, even if you knew you couldn’t take it with you into the next chapter. But this love didn’t feel like a subplot, it didn’t feel like a stepping stone onto the next adventure— it felt like what you’d been looking for your whole life. Maybe that’s just how it feels to be in the ‘honeymoon phase’ or whatever it’s called; maybe it’ll fade soon, with time and distance.

That was what you silently prayed for as you packed everything, folded your clothes, checked the nightstand drawers for those random trinkets they seemed to accrue. Funny how packing to leave this place took you longer than it did to throw your stuff together when you left Michael, and you’d been living there for years.

Then again, you'd known Michael so much longer than you'd known Sebastian, and yet it was Seba that meant so much to you now.

You weren’t sure what would be more difficult: leaving him, or knowing that you could never hope to explain everything in a way he would understand. You considered writing a letter and hoping that he would come upon a Romanian to English dictionary— but with everything you wanted to say, that would take him hours. After all that, would he find your words worth it? Or would he see it all as one last chore from a peculiar fling?

You were pretty sure he didn’t see it as a fling. But maybe he would understand that it was best left as a very unique rebound.

You left your room just to go get some coffee (or maybe something a little stronger, if it was available) and jumped when you saw Sebastian in the hall, causing you to quickly close the door behind you. “I didn’t expect to see you upstairs,” you greeted.

“Obținerea cearșafurilor curate,” he explained as he opened the door to the linen closet and pulled out some bedsheets.

“Oh, yeah, those could probably use a change,” you mumbled as you realized he may not have washed them since the last time you stayed in his bed.

“Vrei și tu câteva?” he asked, pointing towards your door and holding up the sheets.

“Oh, uh, I don’t need any more sheets,” you shook your head, “but thank you…”

His face curled into a mischievous grin. “Poate că trebuie să murdărim acele foi,” he purred as he set the linens down and stepped closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“Seba,” you mumbled, but he must not have heard the hesitance in your voice as he leaned in and kissed your neck, making you sigh a little. He hummed contentedly and lightly bit your ear, and you were almost ready to just let him do it and procrastinate this conversation a little longer, but you had to sigh and push him back.

“Esti bine?” he asked, voice heavy with concern, as he straightened up and examined your face.

“Sebastian…” you started with a sigh, the words you’d been anxiously mulling over all night suddenly abandoning you. “What happened between us meant so much to me,” you continued slowly, “but the fact of the matter is, my first marriage isn’t even over yet. I mean, it’s over, but… I’m not really in a place where I can… start a new relationship…”

He looked back at you, that same blankness of incomprehension you were so used to painting his expression, and yet it was somber; he seemed to sense the tone, even if he was losing out on the specific ideas.

“It’s not fair to either of us, really,” you sighed. “I’m still mourning my marriage— and you were a really important part of that for me. So, thank you.”

You realized you needed to express your gratitude more thoroughly. Thinking quickly, you reached for his hand and opened it, placing his palm to your chest. He looked at you, a little confused.

“Thank you,” you repeated, looking him right in the eye.

He nodded slightly.

“Someday, somebody is gonna love you the way you need— the way you deserve,” you told him, stopping briefly to bite your lip in hopes it would stop quivering. “God, I wish it could be me. But it can’t.”

He held your face and kissed you, and much to your dismay it didn’t feel like a goodbye kiss. It didn’t feel like he knew this was the end. “Nu plânge,” he whispered. “Te iubesc.”

He kissed you again and you let yourself get lost in it like a complete fucking idiot, melting into his arms as he opened your bedroom door and pulled you inside with him. For a moment, it was like any other time, like any other perfect kiss with him, but then he pulled back and looked around and you had to watch his eyes as he realized. You had to watch his face as his smile fell away and his hope turned to despondence.

The whole room was packed. Heavy trunks on the bed, the sheets already stripped so Mrs. Alberti could wash them. Everything that made it feel like your room was gone, and it was just a guest room again, feeling bigger and emptier than ever.

All that was left was the typewriter on the table, because you still couldn't lift it.

“O să pleci,” he gasped, stepping back and releasing you from his embrace. “Chiar mă părăsești.”

You knew that look he was wearing on his face; beyond heartbreak— betrayal. You were all too familiar with it. “I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, “I would stay if I could, but I can’t, can I?”

A car horn honked outside, making you wince.

“That’s my ride,” you mumbled. “I have to go…”

You started to reach for your trunks and for a moment you thought that was really it. “Nu te duce,” he interjected suddenly, grabbing at your wrist and turning you to face him.

“I’m sorry— I have to leave—” you rushed, trying to grab your bags again.

“Nu te duce,” he repeated again desperately, pulling you close, cradling your face in his hands.

“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded as your eyes began to water.

“Stay,” he begged, and you didn’t know that he knew that word. A tear fell; you wished he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I can’t.”

You stood up on your tiptoes to try to kiss him one last time, but he grimaced and pushed you away.

“Să trăieşti,” he said quickly, bitterly, as he stormed out of the room.

“Sebastian, wait—!”

But he was already running down the stairs; you heard the sound of the back door slamming a moment after he was out of sight, and another honk of the horn outside reminded you that you didn’t have time to chase after him. This wasn’t how you wanted it to end— really, you didn’t want it to end at all, and maybe if it had to (which it did) then this was as good a way as any. But you hated to leave like this when the last thing you wanted was to hurt him.

Defiantly wiping the tears from your face, you lifted the first of your trunks and made your way down the stairs, bringing them to the front door where the driver of the cab was waiting to carry them the rest of the way for you.

“Could you go upstairs and get my typewriter for me?” you asked him. “I can’t carry it well myself.”

He nodded and did as he was told, another small but painful reminder of your first day here. Mrs. Alberti came around the bend wearing a knitted shawl and a bittersweet smile.

“I hope you didn’t plan to go without saying goodbye,” she teased you.

“Of course not,” you smiled, “goodbye Mrs. Alberti.”

“I didn’t mean to me, dear,” she explained, making your heart twist.

“I don’t think he wants to hear it from me,” you admitted awkwardly. “I don’t think he can, literally.”

She just sighed and looked away, just as the driver loaded the last of your things into the trunk.

“So, this is it then,” you shrugged as you turned to face her.

“I doubt that,” she smiled. “It’s not a goodbye, sweetheart, just a ‘see you later.’”

“Sure,” you agreed, knowing she was wrong. You couldn’t come back here; you couldn’t leave him twice.

The driver shut the trunk and got back into the driver’s seat, leaving you to stare up at the house and take one last moment to soak it all in.

“You be sure to call me when your book is a big hit!” Mrs. Alberti instructed with a grin.

You were too choked up to say anything back, so you just waved and nodded as you got in the car and took a deep breath. “To the train station, please,” you mumbled to the driver, covering your eyes with your hand as you felt the car reverse and turn onto the road. You couldn't open them, or you’d look back, and you couldn’t look back.

Since your eyes were closed, you had no way to know that Sebastian chased after the car for nearly a block, giving up at the turn of the road, falling into the gravel and laying there for a while, repeating that one English word he couldn’t get out of his head: stay.

#sebastian stan au #sebastian stan x reader

[teddy06writes]

PLEEAASE 😭😭 I'm begging you for some hurt/comfort resolution for the last karlnapity x reader and sleepy bois brothers!! I just want them all to be happyyy. If the 3 lives was implemented, or if reader came back like ghostbur and the hurt is raw for the loved ones, the fallout and fixing, the love and regret i- (I loved the fic, your karlnapity are my favorite!! keep up the awesome work!! <3)

sapnap x karl x quackity x reader + sleepy boys x silbing!reader

trigger warnings: mention character death (it’s you, your the dead one) yelling, swearing,

requested by the anon above, another anon: “ngl after reading that angst fic I can picture y/n ( even tho I know y/n came back with knowing who the boys were ) coming back kinda like ghostbur knowing the boys voices but can't exactly place their names and who they are to them or something like that ?? idk my brain went think of more angst after that fic - also sorry this is just me rambling. love your work btw !!” 

as well as @tobiostfu @theprocrastinatingshipper @pastelvixenbeauty  and probably some more folks I might have missed

premise: this is a part two to the other angst thing from the other day, so I recommend you read that for context, this is a resolve (ish) to that 

(y/n/n)- your nickname

“blep”- talking

‘blep’ thinking

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

You had drifted the lands of the SMP, and L’Manburg for sometime trying to remember what had happened, and why everyone was always yelling.

You’d try to talk to Karl, after Alex and Nick had left, but he just ignored you.

Now you were perched on the top of the stage, looking out ‘why are the walls gone?’, and then looking down, confused, at the strange, cage like structure built at the center.

You heard a sigh, and turned to see Eret looking up at the cage as well, you hopped down off the stage and concentrated, “Eret?”

They jumped, looking around, “What the hell?”

You screwed your eyes shut ‘please see me please see me please-’

“(y/n)?”

You opened your eyes to see Eret looking at you in shock, “Eret! I’m so glad to see you! Everyone’s been ignoring me lately, and acting like I’m not here, and I don’t get it.”

“(y/n)?” His voice was shaking.

“Yeah, Eret. It’s me!” You giggled, “What’s going on here? Did I miss the festival?”

“(Y/n).”

You looked at her confused, “Yeah. W- whats-”

“(y/n/n)?” A teary voice behind you called.

You grinned turning around, running to hug him, “Karl! I missed you! Why did you keep ignoring me?”

He began to cry as you sailed through him, “(y/n/n).”

“Karl? Karl love why are you crying? Eret what’s going on?”

Karl all but fell to his knee’s burring his head in his hands, muffling his sobs, “(y/n/n)!”

You sat beside him, continually trying to wrap your arms around him, but instead they just past through, over, and over, and over and over again, “Wh- why can’t I- what’s- what- Eret whats?”

Tears similar to Karl’s began to roll down your cheeks, as you looked down at your hands, only now noticing how gray your skin looked, “What’s going on?”

“(y/n),” You could tell Eret was fighting to keep their voice from shaking, “Do you not remember?”

“Remember what? What’s going on?”

Karl sobbed louder, and Eret shook her head, “(y/n), I- theres a path, through the woods, behind- up behind the hill. I- I need you to go up there, as far as it goes, alright?”

You nodded, “Why?”

“Just go. I’m going to take Karl back home. Maybe- maybe don’t come back to his house for a while.”

Eret gently helped Karl up, and led him away, his sobs still echoing in your head.

‘what the hell is going on here?’

Slowly you drifted up towards the hill Eret had spoken of, ‘hey, pogtopia is this way! maybe I’ll go see Wil an’ Tommy an’ Techno! They’ll know what’s going on.’

You continued to drift up the path, humming quietly and wondering what Eret had sent you to look at, and why Karl had been crying.

You looked up and around at all the trees, trying to remember them. It was in bits and pieces, Tommy yelling about about freedom, Wilbur saying how proud Phil would be.

You remembered the forests burning, ‘who had done that?’, hiding in the woods after- after something- tnt, blow- after L’manburg had been blown up.

You stopped moving, looking down confused at the stone you had come across, it as large, flat and upright, and you looked at the words confused.

‘(Y/n) brave beyond words, hero of L’manburg’ there were various flowers scattered around, a sword stuck out of the ground, a flower chain wrapped around it’s hilt, there was a uniform jacket, one you vaguely recognized as your own and a bandana, also tied to the hilt of the sword.

Someone dropped something, a sword, “(y/n)?”

“Techno! I missed you! Everyone down in L’manburg is being wierd and when I finally got Karl to stop ignoring me he just started crying, and there’s this weird thing up on the stage and the walls are gone, and Eret told me to come up here, and why is my name on this headstone?”

“(y/n/n) I’m sorry,” Your brother fell to his knees, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean too! They made me!”

“What are you talkin about Tech?”

“How are you back here? I’m sorry! This is my fault I did this to you!”

You were surprised to see your brother crying, “What’s wrong Techno?”

“You don’t remember?”

“(Y/n)?” Another voice asked.

You turned, looking at Wilbur, “Wilbur what’s going on? No one’s answering me again, and I’m scared that they can’t see me again! And I’m really confused and I made Karl cry and I don’t get it!”

“(y/n) your dead, you died, you- how are you?” Wilbur stuttered.

“Wha- wh- d- dead? What do you mean?” You watched as Wilbur carefully placed himself between you and a still crying Techno.

“You died, a few days ago. (y/n/n).”

You sank to the ground, fading away so that your brothers wouldn’t see.

~~ “So you don’t remember anything?” The man with the rams horns asked.

You shook your head, “Not everything. Just a lot of things. Wilby says I’m dead, which I guess makes sense now.”

You’d continue drifting around L’manburg, for a while, trying to figure out what had happened on your own, and ended up sitting dejectedly outside the white house, you could remember making it with Tubbo.

“Well I’m Shlatt.” He shuffled around in his desk, looking for something.

“Shlatt?” You paused, trying to remember him, pretending not to notice to see the fear that flashed in his eyes, “Your.. you were here before L’manburg right?”

“Yeah, uh, here.” He pulled out a book and quill, “Uh, write down what you remember, that might help.”

You looked at him quizzically, “I can’t touch things, uh- or manipulate objects in the normal world with out using huge amounts of energy.”

He frowned and quickly picked up the pen, “You dictate then.”

You hummed, “Well, things I remember....”

~~

Alex woke with a start, sitting up from where he was hunched over his desk, blinking at the harsh afternoon light that was drifting through his office window.

He still hadn’t been back to the house since the fight after the execution, and had been forcing himself into work to mask the grief.

“So is there anything else? It doesn’t seem like you remember much.” Shlatt’s voice was muffled by the wall.

“Well it’s a bit foggy towards the end, and the beginning Ooo! I remember Alex and Nicky and Karl too! I could never forget them!”

Alex froze at the familiar giggle.

“Yeah, you never used to shut up about your boyfriends.” Shlatt chuckled.

Alex was running down the hall and slamming the door to the presidents office open before he could register he was moving, “Shlatt am I going insane or...”

He trailed off as your floating grayish form turned to him, “Alex! I couldn’t find you! And I didn’t know what was going on and everyone was ignoring me then I saw Wil and Techno and they told me I was dead. and then I found Shlatt! And he’s helping me write down what I remember! Have you met Shlatt? He’s nice!”

“Shlatt what the fuck is this?” He spoke through you as if you weren’t even there.

“Your partner. Apparently no one around has been helping them sort things out,” The president stood up and moved around his desk, “Ghosts tend to forget things of there past lives, and no one was helping them, so I am.”

“Did you tell them what happened? Why there fuckin- floating around instead of being here with us?” Alex spat.

Shlatt sighed, “Quackity listen this is a delicate thing. Right now it’s be better to help them remember than just tell them. So go find your stupid boyfriends and tell them the situation!”

“I cant Shlatt, we broke up. They don’t want to see me.”

“Is that what you were yelling about?” You asked quietly.

Alex looked at you, shocked, “You heard that?”

“Yeah. You and Nick made Karl cry. And then I couldn’t do anything about it,” you looked down at the floor, “w- is it my fault y- we’re broken up now?”

Alex remained silent so you continued, “I’m trying to remember what I did. And how I died. But if I did something stupid, or something to hurt you, I’m sorry.”

You were crying again, and Shlatt glared at Alex, which somehow surprised you, “This is why is trying to fucking handle this. Leave. Tell the others or not I don’t care, they’ll find out eventually.”

“Wh- Shlatt they- How-”

“I said get out,” Shlatt said firmly, “At least let me try to fix things I’ve fucked up.”

Alex shook his head before turning and heading out of the office, only ducking into his own long enough to grab something before stalking out of the building.

Shlatt turned back to you, already starting to pick the pen back up, “So what else do you remember about.. uh, your last few days. What do you remember right before the end?”

“Did they really break up because of me? If I did something I should go apologized.”

“Hey, hey, no, it ain’t your fault. I’ll go yell at them later. Tell me more about what you remember about the festival.”

~~ “Why the fuck are we here Shlatt?” Tommy half yelled.

Tommy, Technoblade, Wilbur, Alex, Nick and Karl were all gathered in front of Shlatt in the holy land.

“So, some of you may know, some of you may not, (Y/n) is back,” He looked over all the faces, Karl already looking like he was about to cry, and Nick frozen in shock, “For the past week or so they’ve been wandering and apparently none of you have been doing anything to help them.”

“Ghosts don’t remember much from there past lives, so good job on all of you that knew, you left your partner or sibling lost and confused,” He dropped the book you’d written together on the table, “I did my best, they remember everything that's written down here. I couldn’t tell them much about what they forgot, because it’s not my place.

“If you guys want, I can keep talking to them, and doing my best, but incase you haven’t noticed I’m also the fucking president. I can’t spend all my time helping educate a ghost. They disappeared yesterday, after saying something about Karl and how they saw you fools yelling, so, this is in your court now.”

Shlatt turned a walked away, heading back towards Manburg.

With shaking hands Tommy took the book, reading aloud,

“Things I remember: Home, fire, Phil finding me, Wilbur never having seen a child before, Techno swearing he’d protect me, fire, Tommy trying to spar with me before he could walk right, Techno teaching me to fight, finding the SMP lands, L’manburg, fighting for independence, fire,

“the forests burning, seeing Nick for the first time, Babysitting Fundy, winning independence, Eret leaving, fire, destruction, L’manburg thriving, the sun, Tubbo and his bees, more people coming to the country, meeting Karl, finding Alex, when we got our act together and finally all started dating.

“Wil threatening Nick and nick not being scared, Techno threatening all of them and making them terrified. Pogtopia, the cavern The festival, the dunk tank, Techno almost crying, my boys, fire.”

He looked up at his brothers, “You knew they were back?”

“I was in shock,” Techno was staring at his boots, clearing his throat uncomfortably, “Y’know I swore I’d protect ‘em, but- I- I killed ‘em.”

Nick grabbed the book from Tommy, “We have to find them.”

~~

“Fundy can you turn the page for me please?”

The fox nodded, “Course (y/n).”

Most of the shock had worn off, and now he was mostly just happy to see you again, even going and finding an old photobook Wilbur had given him a while ago.

“Oh I remember this!” You pointed to a photo, it was taken a year after Phil had found you, “There was a big fire across the field, and while they were taking care of it I got scared and ran away, Techno found me in a tree.”

Fundy laughed, “3 year old you got in a tree by yourself?”

“Yeah, furball, I was in a tree when Philza found me too.” You chuckled.

“Hey Fundy, have you...” Niki burst in the door, tailing off as she saw you.

You waved “Hey Niki.”

“Uhh, Your brothers, and your partners are looking for you.”

You frowned, “Are they still my partners if I’m dead?”

Niki gave you a sad look, “Come on. Sapnap hasn’t seen you and he’s worried.”

“They all fought because of me, I’d rather stay here,” You looked out the door warily, “I don’t want to make things worse than they already are.”

“They need you (y/n), you brought them together.”

You drifted around Fundy and towards the door, “Making things worse isn’t something I want to do.”

You went through the door, past the group of people, making your form fade as much as possible so as not to be noticed, from there you wandered down to the docks, sitting on the edge to look over the channel.

“Phil sent a letter, said he’s devastated your gone, but overjoyed your still here.”

You looked up at Techno, “How’d you know I’d be down here?”  

“You always liked the water,” He chuckled, “Specially if there was a fire goin on somewhere else.”

“I don’t want to make things worse, if your here to take me back there.”

“I’m here to apologize. I know you don’t remember, but in case you do, I’m sorry, I had to do it.”

You laughed, “Your my big brother Tech, I doubt I’d be mad at you if I remembered.”

He smiled sadly, sitting down next to you, “Why do you think you’ll make things worse?”

You sighed, “Well when I first came back, I thought everyone was ignoring me. And when I found L’manburg again Karl and Nick and Alex were fighting about something I did, and then when Eret finally saw me Karl started crying, and then when I found you and Wilby you started crying and I just- I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Techno looked at you, “If anything it’s our fault. All of this.”

“Techno, can we talk to (y/n)?”

You froze at Nick’s voice, but your brother was already moving, and Your partners were taking his place.

“(y/n/n), we’re sorry-”

“Stop,” You cut Alex off, “Whatever’s happening stop. You can’t apologize to me for shit I did that I can’t remember.”

“(y/n/n), we aren’t apologizing for that, that's not even your fault. We’re apologizing for fighting as soon as you were gone.” Nick said.

“Please come back with us. Don’t disappear,” Karl’s voice was barley a whisper, “We can help you remember.”

You bit your lip, sobbing, “I don’t want to make things hard on you guys. I didn’t even want to come back like this! Before I woke up again, it was just darkness, and it was horrible. but somehow staying there for eternity seems better than this.”

All three sets of arms passed through you, all of your boyfriends forgetting they couldn’t hold you, only making you cry harder.

~~

“I want to be resurrected.”

It had been a week and a half since the day at the docks. You hadn’t gone back with them, though you had continued hanging around Manburg, talking mainly to Shlatt, and by now you just wanted to go back to the normal you remembered.

“Resurrected?” Dream looked at you curiously.

“Yeah. I want to go back. If I can’t stay dead the normal way and I’m stuck here then I want it to be normal. I want to hug my boyfriends, and ruffle my little brothers hair!”

The man behind the mask merely cocked his head, “So why did you come to me?”

“You’re essentially a god in these lands. I figured you might know someone or someway for me to be resurrected,” The mask shifted and you could almost here the plan formulating in his mind, “And if it ends up failing I don’t want it to hurt anyone else.”

The man sighed, “It would be a very complicated process. It’s been what, three weeks since you died, what ever was left of your body is going to be- less than in good condition.”

“What was left?” You questioned.

“Oh, (y/n), didn’t they tell you?”  Had the mask been gone you would have seen the gleam of wickedness in his eyes, “You went off with a bang.”

~~

“You’re planning what?” Shlatt yelled, incredulous.

You’d told Shlatt about the plan for resurrections, seeing as he was one of the only one who really still talked to you, “I have to do it Shlatt! I can’t stay like this! I want things to be normal! I want-” Your voice grew small, “I want to take back what you took from me.”

Fear flashed in the horned mans eyes, “He told you.”

“Even you wouldn’t,” You said dejectedly, “I thought you were my friend.”

“I- I was your friend, At some points at least.”

He watched as you floated away, “I suppose we’ll see once I’m back.”

As soon as you were gone Shlatt was hurrying out of his office, “Quackity! Quackity, some shit is about to hit the fan! You better call the idiots in Pogtopia!”

It didn’t take long for him to assemble your brothers and partners, frantically telling them the situation, “Dream is up to something with this people! He obviously is doing some manipulation shit!”

“Why do you even care Shlatt?” Tommy asked, “Your the bitch who killed them, so why should you care if they come back?”

“Sorry that the one time I’m willing to look past shit you don’t trust me?” He groaned, pulling a bottle from his coat and taking a swig, “Sorry that I’m trying to help.”

“How would he even turn this against us?” Nick asked, “Resurrections isn’t something he can do, he’d put Bad in charge of that, and we all know that Bad wouldn’t corrupt someone.”

“It’s possible that they won’t remember anything, at all, and people who’ve forgotten are the easiest to manipulate.” Shlatt sighed.

“We have to help them.” Karl decided.

~~

Darkness, darkness, darkness.

You had finally found your way back to that dark abyss, though now it was filled with strange chanting.

It felt like you were bein dragged across the length of the universe, losing everything of your being along the way.

‘stop! stop stop stop! I want- I want to remember’ you begged the darkness.

The hell you found yourself in seemed to stretch, continuing for infinity, the darkness, called you, begging you to stay, to give up the last of your essence to it.

The chanting grew louder as you tried to scream, the sound lodged in a throat that no longer existed.

All at once you became nothing, and then you felt the weight of a thousand suns crushing you back down into a body.

~~ Your eyes flicked open, to a blinding white world.

“It worked! There awake!” You heard Bad yell.

You started to smile as you heard Alex yell, “Get the fuck away from them Dream, you can’t manipulate anyone else!”

You sat up, starting to look around, but still, you saw nothing but light, “Alex? Wh- It- why can’t I see?”

“They remember!”  you heard Karl rejoice.

“Why can’t I see?” You asked again, raising your hands to your eyes.

“(y/n) what do you mean?” Nick asked.

“I can’t see.” You said desperately, reaching out you felt your boyfriends wrapping there arms around you.

“I think I know how to fix it!” Bad yelled triumphantly.

Everything went black again.

~~

This time, your trip through hell was not as bad, though you seemed not to notice as your existence and identify was striped away again.

~~ Your eyes flicked open, the feeling returned to your body, and slowly you sat up, looking around at the odd group of people gathered around you, “Who are you?”

As soon as the world came out of your mouth a mousy haired man in a colorful sweater burst into tears, the man with the beanie next to him quickly pulling him into a hug.

“I- Who are you?”

“Do you not remember?”  

You shook your head, “Remember what?”

you turned to the pink haired man, “I know you don’t I? I swear- I- I know I know you. Why don’t I remember you?”

A demonic looking man quickly closed a book, “You guys should clear out. a third party might be better for this.”

~~ The man- Bad, had explained basics of things to you, who everyone who’d been in the room before, and the said that you would have to stay at his house in the Badlands for a few days.

The next day was better.

‘holy shit it worked!’ you thought, looking down at your arms, ‘I’m back’

Quietly you got out of the bed, rushing through the room and towards the stairs of Bad and Skeppy’s house, “Guys! Guys it worked! I’m alive again!”

You turned another corner to see you brothers, looking at you shocked, “(y/n)? You remember?”

You grinned, quickly pulling your brother into a hug, “It wasn’t your fault Techno! You didn’t mean to it’s okay!”

“(y/n/n)?”

You turned again, “Karl! Nicky! Alex!”

The next thing you knew you were in a pile on the ground, your boyfriends all hugging you tightly.

~~

They brought you home soon after, and from there you had good days and bad days.

There were days where you remembered it all, days where you found yourself lost and confused in an unknown house, and days where you could on recognize certain things around you.

Still, you were back with Nick and Karl and Alex, and you would make it through, together.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #sapnap x reader #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #sapnap x karl x quackity x reader #angst #sleepy boys x reader

[mellowswriting]

Helping Hand

pairing || Din Djarin x fem!Reader

summary ||  The clasps on bras should not be so fucking difficult. It’s a good thing Mando doesn’t mind lending you a helping hand.

word count || 4,873

warnings || SMUT! p in v sex, kinda rough tbh, desperate Mando, cockwarming, a singular spank, love confessions bc I am soft for this man 

a/n || this was uh...something! I firmly believe that Mandalorians waste zero time once they find their person. Once they have them, they have them. No such thing as rushing to a Mandalorian, especially our TinCanMan. also, this gif destroys me

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The second you saw the bra as you perused the marketplace, your face lit up. The fabric was rich in color and ridiculously soft and you knew the second you had your hands on it that you were buying it. It wasn’t too expensive, a few credits more than what you’d usually be willing to pay for clothes, but hey, you deserved to splurge every now and then. You practically bounced with excitement as you made your way back to the Crest where Mando and the little green kiddo you adored waited for your return. It was nice to get some time to yourself, time where you didn’t have to chase after a rambunctious kid or have to squeeze past Mando’s huge frame in the small spaces of the Crest, but what could you say?

You missed your boys. 

The ramp lowered as you drew closer and you smiled. Mando must have seen you approaching. The sight of him standing in the cockpit with the sleeping child cradled in his arm made your chest bloom with happiness. You paused on your way to set your bag on your bunk, distracted by the uncomfortable looking angle he held his arm at, and let out a quiet laugh. Mando’s silent tendencies left you to observe the way he held himself to discern how he was feeling, and after months of living with him, you could gauge him easily by the tilt of his helmet, the way he held his shoulders. You may not be fluent in Mando’a, but you were fluent in your Mandalorian. 

“He wakes up the second you lay him down, huh?” You asked, a teasing smile on your face. The sharp way he looked to you only confirmed your suspicion and you bit your lip to hold back another chuckle. “Here, let me.”

The child didn’t even stir when you fluidly slipped him from Mando’s arms and slowly settled him into the metallic cradle he slept in. Mando sighed loudly behind you, the sound roughed slightly by the modulator. “How are you so good at that?”

“It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” You turned and almost knocked back into the cradle at the proximity of the beskar-clad warrior, a mere few inches between your chests. Heat flared across your face. “It’s just, uh… just lotsa practice.” 

Mando hummed quietly and you instinctively looked to his shoulders and his hands, trying to gauge his mood. They were relaxed, the tension he always carried about him eased for the moment. Content, if you had to guess. It made you smile up at him, brighter than any sun in the galaxy. There weren't many times you saw him without that ready-to-action tension that plagued his surely sore muscles - almost always when the three of you were in the Crest, safe together as you hurtled through space. He turned just as quickly as he had approached you, stepping out of your space to set the coordinates to Nevarro, and you felt like you could finally exhale. 

Bag in hand, you practically stumbled into your bunk and pulled out the pretty bra you were so excited to put on - inky black, accentuated with intricately designed lace and a harness-like back. You pulled off your clothes quickly, stripping down entirely bare to slip into a soft pair of sleeping shorts. It would take a while to get back to Nevarro; you might as well be comfortable for it. The process of undressing while the Crest drew away from solid ground used to have you half naked and on the ground from the jostling, but thankfully you had grown proficient at balancing yourself through the rough takeoffs. 

A quiet sigh escaped you at the brush of the luxurious cloth against your bare skin, deft fingers latching the clasps at your back. It was a welcome change to the usual bras you wore. The straps were a bit too loose, allowing the cups to droop slightly from your breasts, and you fumbled to tighten them. It was just out of your grasp, your fingers grappling uselessly for the elusive adjuster as you huffed in annoyance.

“Need a hand?” Mando’s voice behind you made you startle almost comically and whirl around, one hand pressed against your chest where your heart was battering against your ribs. How in the hell did he always manage to move so silently? Heat bloomed up your neck and across your face unbiddenly. Sure, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you in some state of undress - living in such close quarters and the fact that Mando apparently never learned how to knock had him walking in on you often. But there was no denying the difference in you standing before him dressed practically in lingerie. 

“Uh, y-yeah, if you could?” You stuttered, internally groaning at your sudden inability to speak. The thick tension of the air could have choked you as you stared Mando down awkwardly until he twirled his finger, silently commanding you to turn around, and you could just die. “You just have to slide the, uh, adjuster up towards my shoulder.”

Mando said nothing and before you could move your hair out of his way, one gloved hand gathered it to settle over your shoulder and you had to tamp down on the shiver that tried to wriggle up your spine. He fiddled with the straps silently, leaving you to wrangle with your bordering on desperate need to climb the giant man behind you like a tree and lose yourself in the pleasures you could bring each other. 

You weren’t blind, nor were you stupid. Far from it, actually. Reading people was a gift you had possessed from a young age - one’s intent could easily be sussed by the specific light in their eyes, the slightest change in their tone, the barely-there shift in their body language. Mando may not speak often, you may not be able to watch for the arch of an eyebrow or the quirk of a lip, but you could still read him like a book. 

The fear of complication warred with your need. The child was a beacon of light in your life when you thought there could never be anything but swallowing darkness. He was a reminder of the little things that made everything else worth it - every coo, every small smile as he slept, every time he came running up to you or Mando on his little legs. Even when you were having to explain over and over again that no, he couldn’t eat the buttons off of the comlink, he brought you more joy than you could imagine. 

It didn’t help that every day spent flying through hyperspace left you growing closer to the Mandalorian. Even when there was nothing but silence between you, it was comfortable, companionable. The final straw? Mando slept in your presence. The first time it happened had been entirely accidental. He was exhausted after a strenuous bounty, one that ran far longer than they fought for, and the second the coordinates had been set, Mando collapsed into the pilot’s seat and promptly passed out. Knowing that he was comfortable enough to fall asleep without second thought, that he trusted you enough to be vulnerable like that around you...you never felt more like you belonged.

And Mando? When he woke several hours later, feeling far more well-rested than usual, he saw you curled up in the seat next to him with the child cradled in your lap as the blur of hyperspace reflected in your eyes. You had smiled at him, sleepy but bright nonetheless, and he had never been more grateful for the helmet that hid his face. You were too smart, too observant - you would be able to read the love on his face plain as day.

That little green womp rat and his beskar covered father saved you when you thought there was nothing left. The idea of losing that made you nauseous. The idea of how complete your little family would feel if you gave in made you tempted. 

It was complicated. 

A modulated grunt of frustration came from the man behind you as he couldn’t get a solid hold on that damn adjuster and you bit back a laugh. A Mandalorian, a warrior - bested by some plastic and fabric. Something fell to the ground, landed on the metal floor with two quiet thwaps, and before you could glance down to see what it was, warm bare fingers slid between the strap and your skin. This time there’s no stopping the almost violent shiver that racked your body, paired with an embarrassingly sharp exhale, and Maker your resolve was crumbling to pieces. 

“Tell me when.” Mando rumbled once his nimble fingers finally wrapped around the plastic, his modulator vibrating right in your ear in the most delicious way. The strap tightened slowly as his fingers slid up, the cup of the bra finally flush against your skin, and your voice was hoarse when you whispered ‘when’. 

Instead of simply reaching for the other strap, his warm palm made a lazy path across your skin, pausing for a breath between your shoulder blades before slipping under the thin fabric. He repeats the movement, tightening the strap until you clear your throat and manage to say in a stronger tone, “T-there is fine.” 

Mando hummed, his fingertips gliding over the soft skin of your shoulder and holy hell, his chest was practically pressed to your back and there was no way he wasn’t being a giant tease. “Just fine?”

“Perfect,” You corrected, your voice breathy, eyes threatening to flutter shut as that hand trailed over your shoulder to trace along the line of the cup of your bra. Goosebumps followed Mando’s touch, raised as your body’s desperate testament to the need that had vibrated through you. You just barely caught a glimpse of those tanned hands, hands you had seen a few times as he took care of the more delicate aspects of cleaning of his weapons, and you whispered, “You’re p-perfect.”

Mando gripped your hip suddenly, your soft flesh soft a beautiful contrast to his calloused hands, and it was the dip of his fingertips underneath the hem of your shorts that made you lean back into him fully, your head tilted back against his shoulder. A rumbled moan vibrated from his chest and into your back, felt all the way through his chestplate, as you “You want this, sweet girl?”

You nodded quickly. “H-how? How can we…”

“Leave it to me,” Mando murmured, preoccupied with the heat of your bare skin under his hands as he finally broke, finally explored the body of the woman he had fallen in love with in the months since his clan had expanded to three. “Just...tell me you want this. Please.”

Mando’s voice was rough and desperate even through the modulator and you nodded without a second thought. You knew you were in for it just from the way he pushed you further into your bunk to let the door slide shut behind him. No fanfare, no fuss. Mando was certain. He was going for what he wanted, and it lit a fire in you. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart racing as Mando methodically unclasped his armor, his visor trained on you with each piece that came off - and it hit you. This was actually happening. 

Finally. 

You grinned up at the t-shaped visor of his helmet and pulled him closer by the hem of his duraweave pants, his grunt of approval stoking the flames of your need. He pulled his shirt off fluidly and your hands froze where they were trying to undo his pants as you admired the sight of so much bare skin. 

“So handsome,” You whispered before kissing just below his navel, smiling into his skin at the way his hand buried in your hair. Mando hummed under your gentle touch, under the trail of your tongue against his skin. It had been so long, too long since he had any form of gentle touch, you knew that. Touch starved, that was the term. 

You would fix that. 

You trailed your hand over his ribs, fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake when your nails scratched him lightly. Finally having your hands on him had you almost giddy, your heart flying in your chest as you slowly kissed down his stomach to the tent in his pants, nerves and need warring in your belly. You wanted to learn every piece of your Mandalorian - his scars and their stories, where to kiss when you wanted to hear those intoxicating groans, his favorite places for you to bite and dig your nails into. You wanted to break him in the best possible way, destroy that headstrong restraint and discipline so he could destroy you in return. 

All it took was a teasing press of your tongue against the outline of his cock to make him snatch you up off of the bed with a firm hand at your jaw and you couldn’t help but smile. His helmet tilted slightly as he took you in, grinning at him like the cat that got the canary, eyes sparkling with excitement, and he gripped your shorts with his other hand hard enough to pop the hem. 

“Off.” Mando rumbled and you immediately shimmied out of them as quickly as you could with his hand still holding your face firmly. The second the fabric no longer hindered his access, he ran his hand over your ass, greedy fingers digging into the firm flesh of one cheek. “Such a good listener. Aren’t you, sweet girl?”

You pressed closer as you nodded, desperate to feel his body against yours, and your eyes fell closed at the warmth of the skin to skin contact of your chest against his. As much as you loved the bra you wore, you wanted to feel nothing between you. It was easy to slip off and Mando’s hand instantly left your jaw to trace along your breast. It amazed you how gentle he could be; those big hands capable of incapacitating, capable of killing, gently palming your skin and tweaking your nipple. A breathy chuckle met your ears and only then did you realize you were arching up into his touch. 

“I won’t be gentle.” Mando warned. 

You grinned, heat shuddering down your spine at the roughness of his tone. “Who says I want you to be?”

You were on your back before you could even blink, the impact against the bed pulling a gasp from you. Mando made an image painted by the gods: stood over you, chest heaving with each harsh breath, cock straining proudly against his pants. That was the last thing you saw before his hand slapped against the light control on the wall and the entire bunk plunged into darkness. 

A hand wrapped around your ankle and yanked you against a pair of firm thighs, forcing out a yelp that morphed into a low whine when your legs were spread wide. Without your vision to guide you, you had to rely on your hearing, your sense of touch, and the low clank of metal on metal and rustling of fabric had you confused until his warm, entirely naked body slid over yours and you heard the first tones of Mando’s voice - unmodulated, raw and low in your ear. 

“You need me, huh? You need this?” Mando growled, sliding down to grind his cock against you, and he grinned impishly at the desperation of your whimper, at the way you angled your hips to try to slide him inside of you. “Let me take what I want and I’ll give you what you need.” 

You could have cried out when he pulled back, could have begged him to stay and fuck you already, but the feeling of his lips latching onto your neck made your voice melt into unintelligible groans. You buried your hands in his hair, memorizing the soft way the curls fell through your fingers. The combination of his teeth and tongue were sure to leave a mark, one you would wear with pride for anyone to see. It was the first of many lovebites he left on your skin, trailed down your neck and over your chest and delivered between significantly gentler bites and licks to your breasts. Your hips moved entirely of their own volition, legs wrapped around his waist to rub against his stomach. 

Mando’s hands found your hips and pressed them down, pressing you flush to the bed hard enough that you knew you would have bruises, ones you would relish as long as they lasted. You had never felt more desperate to be touched, tension rocketing tighter and tighter in your core. 

“So needy, mesh’la.” Mando rumbled as he shoved you further up the bed. He delivered a sharp bite to your thigh and you jumped, a laugh bubbling up from your chest at the suddenness and the way he eased the mark with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair again and his chest rumbled, almost as if he were purring. Just as you were about to comment on it, tell him how cute it was that he reacted so beautifully to your touch, his tongue slid through your wet heat. 

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, the grip you had in his curls tightening harshly as you tried to roll your hips to grind against his face, but he pinned your hips with sure hands. Not to be hindered, you pressed your heels into his back and still managed tiny hitches and Mando chuckled at your determination. His tongue rolled over your clit, over and over until you were crying out at the sparks of pleasure radiating through your core.

His mouth left you for a split second, just long enough to slick his fingers with his spit, and his tongue descended back to your clit as two fingers rubbed tiny circles against your entrance. You were almost incoherent in your begging, your voice slurred, words cut off in the middle - and then two thick fingers slid into your cunt, his lips wrapped around your clit, and you thought your heart stopped with the intensity of it all. 

After what could have been an eternity or a mere half second, Mando pumped his fingers slowly and your entire world imploded around you. The groan that left your lover was exhilarating. He mumbled against you, something about the tightest fucking cunt he’s ever had, before his tongue went back to town, flicking over your clit as his fingers curled into that sweet spot deep inside you. Your back arched of its own volition, your entire body tensing as Mando rocketed you to your climax.

“Can’t wait anymore.” Was the only warning you got before he pulled away, leaving you to flutter around nothing, and a high whine left your throat as Mando leaned over you and yanked your thighs up to hook further over his hips. His lips fell to yours and you groaned at the taste of your arousal, your hand cupping his jaw and reveling in the scratch of his stubble against your skin. The heavy weight of his cock pressed against your thigh until he angled himself to press right against your entrance, and - 

“Wait!” You gasped and Mando froze entirely. You reached between you to grasp his cock, groaning at the thick girth that you knew would split you open beautifully. “Let me... let me make you feel good, too.” 

“Won’t last, mesh’la,” Mando growled, his forehead pressed to yours as he fucked into your hand despite his words. For just a moment you thought you had him, had gained some modicum of control as you stroked him with a firm hand, but he batted your hand away to pin above your head. “Need to bury my cock in your tight little cunt.”

“P-please! I need it, I need you to fuck me full.” You mewled so prettily for him and Mando broke. 

The sound that left him was pulled from his very core, an almost feral growl radiating from his chest and leaving you shuddering underneath him, ready to beg until he finally shoved his cock into you, but before you could get a sound out you were flipped you onto all fours. You tried to steady yourself, to press your weight into your hands so you could grind your ass back against him, but a rough hand shoved between your shoulder blades until your face and chest were flush against the blankets beneath you. 

“You want me to claim this cunt?” Mando breathed into your ear as he settled his chest against your back, gliding the head of his cock through your slit teasingly. A dark chuckle followed your pitiful whine. “Oh I think I will. Stuff you full of my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.”

Mando pulled back and steadied a hand at your hip, the other pulling your cheeks apart as he finally slid home. Inch after devastating inch filled your cunt, the familiar stretch on just the right side of painful. A sinful, wrecked groan came from behind you and despite yourself, despite being face down ass up for a warrior, you felt powerful. 

“S-so fucking tight,” Mando stuttered out as he gave a small push forward, pressing even further into your heat despite being buried to the hilt already, short, aborted thrusts as he tried to let you adjust to his girth. 

“Please, please, please,” You huffed out with each exhale, and if you were in your right mind you might have been at least slightly embarrassed by the desperation of your begging, but you were aching for him to move. You clenched around him, reveling in the punched-out sound it drew from him, and finally, finally he drew back halfway to shove back into you sharply. 

Mando didn’t fuck you - the word ‘fuck’ wasn’t enought to encompass the way he drove into you over and over, shoved you further into the sheets with his teeth buried in your shoulder. You wanted to be destroyed, and Maker did he deliver, pressed against that sweet spot deep inside you and making your writhe beneath him. It took a moment to find your voice amongst the harsh thrusts, but the sound of you whimpering ‘Mando…’ over and over had your lover delivering a sharp swat to your ass before yanking you up by your hair and bracing your ass on his thighs, his pace unfaltering. 

“S-such a sweet little thing,” Mando stuttered, one hand holding you by your neck, keeping you flush against him, and the other sliding down to toy with your clit, those calloused fingers rubbing in tight circles until you pressed your head to his shoulder and wailed. “Sound so pretty for me.”

You wanted to tell him how good he felt stretching you out, how much you loved this, how much you loved him, but there was no speaking when his thrusts punched the very air from your lungs. So you buried your hand in his hair and tightened, rolling your hips into every push of his own. The sharp pull of his hair seemed to egg him on and his hand slid up from your throat to tilt your head and capture your lips with his. 

The angle was awkward, the kiss all teeth and tongue, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Mando drank in your every moan, every whine, and sang out his own in response, poured them out in a never ending stream that left you washed out in pleasure and pride. You reduced him to this. The tight clench of your cunt around him left the strong warrior slashed down to his most base instincts, left him to bury himself in you over and over as if he couldn’t bear to hold back. 

Your begging was almost incoherent, words broken off halfway with each harsh thrust, but it all melted into one low cry when Mando toyed with your clit and ground against that sweet spot against you and you broke. The only thing that kept you upright was Mando’s strong grip on your body as your pleasure crested, sparked out all across your body and left you weak in the aftermath of ecstasy. Your hand fell loose in his hair, still tangled in his curls but just barely staying put. 

Mando laid you down almost sweetly, flipped your weak body around to lie on your back and settled between your thighs. He growled low in your ear when you hooked your ankles over his lower back and whined so prettily for him as he pushed himself deep into your cunt - right where he belonged. His thrusts were shorter, stunted in his relentless chase for release inside of your body, leaving you hanging in the precipice between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Feel so good,” You whispered in his ear, gasping when he buried his face in your neck and latched onto your skin with rough presses of teeth and tongue. The pace of his thrusts stuttered when you clenched around him, urging him to let go.

“Where?” Mando grunted low into your skin, unable to find the words to finish his thoughts but you knew. You knew what he wanted, the desperate want you both shared.

“Inside!” You gasped out in a rough voice, almost desperate in tone, and locked your legs around his waist tighter, using the newfound leverage to meet each of his thrusts. “Please, please cum inside me.”

The choked off sound in your ear was downright addictive and paired with the airtight grip on your hips as he pressed flush against your body and flooded you with his release....well, you wouldn’t be able to live without it, without him. Mando collapsed, crushed you underneath his weight with his cock still nestled in your tight heat. Maker, he was heavy but you never felt safer. He panted in your ear, the ghost of each breath curling across your skin like a loving caress and you could feel the curve of his lips where he smiled against you, a smile you matched. 

Your fingers buried in his hair once more, scratching against his scalp in slow, gentle circles, and the delighted whimper he gave sounded like it came from anyone but the rough and tumble warrior who just railed you into oblivion. One of his hands writhed up between your chests to cup your breast, the gun-calloused skin of his palm a harsh contrast to the soft, unmarred skin of your chest. 

“Mando…” You chuckled in a tone of warning when those fingers tweaked your nipple, sending sparks echoing across your skin. 

“Din,” He grunted in your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and worrying it with his tongue, only pulling back when you made a small noise of confusion. “Din Djarin. You should know the name of the man who claims you.”

Your heart stuttered, racing to match the pace of your thoughts. This...this was a huge deal for him, you knew that. Your arms tightened around him almost of their own volition as it hit you - this union meant as much to him as it did to you. 

Mando - Din was yours. 

You were his. 

“Cyare,” Din whispered at the small noise that left you, propping himself up on his elbows to hover over you despite not being able to see you. You followed his movements as best you could, not wanting to jostle around enough for his softening cock to slip from your body.  “Are you okay? Was...Was this not-”

“No! No, I...damn it,” You stumbled over your words in your rush to reassure him, reaching up to hesitantly place your hands on either side of his face, giving him plenty of time to stop you in case you crossed a line. He didn’t. Rough stubble met your fingers and you laughed wetly in disbelief. You couldn’t believe your luck. “I love you. I have from the start.”

Din’s breath caught in his throat and he pressed his face back into your neck as he returned the sentiment, his words muffled and cracking under the weight they carried. You giggled at the way his tongue met your neck, surely adding to the multitude of marks he already left there, but tilted your head back for more access nonetheless. He was right - he laid his claim on you, buried his seed as deep inside you as he could and left the imprint of his teeth across your skin for all to see. 

“A clan of three, right?” You said before kissing his temple, yours eyes slipping closed as your exhausted reared. 

“Yes, sweet girl. A clan of three.” Din rumbled. The vibration of his chest only lulled you further into slumber and the last thing you heard before the sleep overtook you was Din whispering, almost to himself, “My own little aliit.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #mando x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x y/n #mando x y/n #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[bittydragon]

The Ant King

Note: Huge thanks to Bittydragon for inspiring me to write this. I’ll be honest, this is the first fic I've ever actually written, as well as the only piece of creative fiction I've written in like two years so… fingers crossed it goes well hahaha.

TW: tight spaces, darkness, uh,,, bugs i guess. Near death experience

  There are things you have to know about ants when you get an ant farm. Basic fundamentals. What to feed them, how to keep them alive, what type of ants you have, etcetera. Even if your intentions were… torturous. After all, you need to know what makes something tick in order to make it stop.

One of the more common facts about ants is that every colony has a queen. She orders her ants to keep her alive so she can make more ants. Simple biology, the continuation of a species. Every nest has a queen, or it dies.

Apparently, this colony didn’t get the memo.

These thoughts buzzed in grumpy circles around Wilbur's’ head as he followed his ant companion, Tommy, deeper into the ant-farm. They had been wandering these tunnels for what felt like days now, in the center of the farm so there were no glass barriers to show the outside world. They were deep too. Almost at the bottom of the compound. Wilbur was not one to show fear, but even he was beginning to get claustrophobic.

Tommy, who up until now had been jabbering like a toddler the whole trip through the ant-farm had also gone uncharacteristically silent. The whole trip Wilbur had wanted nothing more than a few seconds of quiet from him, but now he missed the carefree noise.

They were on their way to see the ant King. A type of ant that, as far as Wilbur knew, didn’t exist. So either they were on a wild goose chase, or Will was way out of his depth.

The further they went, the more he was convinced it was the latter.

“Tommy do you-” Wilbur paused, his echoing voice in the tunnel almost felt like a taboo. An affront to the maddening silence that stalked them. He lowered his voice.

“Do you think… Will I ever get back to normal? Will the ant king change me back?” He hated that little quiver in his voice. He hated the uncertainty. The waiting.

Tommy continued to march forward silently, pondering the question.

“I dunno big man, I think you’ve changed heaps since you got here.” He turned his head to flash Wilbur a grin “Then you’ll be out there and all nice n shit. It’ll be poggers.”

The tunnel was dark, but not dark enough to hide the flash of uncertainty in Tommy’s eyes.

Wilbur's heart sank. “Thanks mate.” He mumbled, and they trekked on, once more in silence.

  By the time they saw light, it felt like they had been walking for days. Wilbur was almost glad he was about to meet possibly one of the most powerful ants in this colony. They rounded one last bend, and they were there.

Before them stood a huge double door set in the wall. Two vines with some kind of glowing fruit framed the door, shedding light on the small space. In front of the door, leaning on a spear made from a twig was another ant with a pair of large white rimmed goggles. 

“Well… This is it I guess.” Wilbur muttered. He cleared his throat “Hey, um. I-i’m here to have an audience with the King? If that's alright.”

The guard ant didn’t respond, continuing to stare at them with no discernible expression.

“H-hello?” Wilbur glanced at Tommy, who shrugged.

“Excuse me? Anyone home?” Wilbur snapped his fingers in front of the ant's face.

He seemed to startle slightly, before slumping down a bit and letting out a loud snore.

“What the fuck” Tommy said.

Before anyone could do much of anything, one of the massive double doors creaked open and a voice came through.

“George, I swear if you fell asleep again, I'm going to rip off your antenna and use them as- oh.”

Another ant entered the room, this one also carried a twig-spear and had a strip of white cloth tied around his forehead.  As soon as his gaze landed on Wilbur, his expression soured.

If looks could kill… Wilbur thought nervously

“It’s you” The new ant spat “Took your sweet time getting here Soot. Earthquake slow you down? Didja get a taste of your own medicine from your big pals out there?”

Wilbur pursed his lips, and the ant snorted. “Yeah. Thought so.” He walked forward and gave George a hard shove, sending the other ant sprawling with a startled yelp.

“Sapnap what the hell?!” He snapped, before spotting Wilbur and Tommy. “Oh hey. That guy is here.”

“Yeah he’s here, idiot.” Sapnap smacked George over the head with his spear “And we would have known a lot sooner if you hadn't fallen asleep on duty again!”

“OW! Sapnap stop! Get off me!”

Wilbur cleared his throat, drawing their attention “Sorry to interrupt, but me and my friend have been walking for a long, long time, so could we please have an audience with the King?”

Subpoena glared “Yeah. He’s waiting for you. Against my advice, he wants to see you.”

Oh. That… didn’t sound great.

Wilbur tried not to think about the implications of that statement as he approached the double doors. Tommy moved to follow, but was stopped by the guards.

“Hey!” He groused “Let me through dickheads!”

“I'm afraid the King only wants an audience with the great and powerful Wilbur Soot” Sapnap said with a smirk.

“But I want to go too! Let me in! You stupid ugly bitch ill fight you! You may have a fancy stick but just wait until I pull out my knife-gun!”

“Tommy its fine.” Wilbur interrupted “I’ll be fine mate, promise. Just wait here. I wont leave without saying goodbye.”

The last thing he saw was Tommy’s antenna drooping sadly, before the doors swung closed behind him.

  If Wilbur thought the tunnel was dark before, that was nothing compared to the room he was in now. The darkness was so thick, so absolute, that it made no difference if his eyes were open or closed.

“Hello?” Wilbur called “Uh… your majesty? I was told that you wanted to see me.”

His voice echoed slightly in the huge space, but there was no reply.

Wait. What was that? Something rasped ever so slowly across the opposite wall. Something big. As it moved, the moss where it had been standing glowed a dull green.

Bio-luminescence Wilbur reasoned. Trying to distract himself from the fear creeping up his spine. Touch activated, it seems.

He swallowed dryly “L-look, just tell me what you want. I’m not here to cause trouble”

The thing moved again, its raspy scuttle reverberated through the chamber.

“Wilbur Soot, not here to cause any trouble” A thoughtful voice hummed from the dark “Now that’s a first.”

The bio-luminescent moss was lighting up more of the room. If he squinted, Wilbur could make out a... leg. Probably.

Wilbur inches slowly to the side, the moss lighting up his own path. “Okay, I get it, I've done morally questionable things in the past, but I've learned a lot from my time here. I’m sorry.”

“For now” The voice replied. The thing was moving on the other side, matching him step for step. “What's to say you aren't faking remorse to get out of here? And maybe you really are sorry. How can I be sure you wont change your mind the second you're back to normal? It's too much of a risk.”

Wilbur continued to back away nervously “Your majesty-”

“Please, call me Dream. Everyone else does.”

“Right… Dream. I can say with 100% certainty that won't happen. I've seen people die in front of me. That’s enough to change anyone's stance on something.”

“And yet I'm still not convinced.” It was moving faster now, scuttling across the floor, walls and even across the ceiling. Wilbur's head spun with the motion. “And since we’re talking in hypotheticals, riddle me this: Whoever said I was going to let you out anyway? What if I just like to play with my food?”

Dream stopped suddenly, rearing over Wilbur, and with all of the lit up moss, he got his first proper look.

This ant was huge. Twice- no, at least three times the size of Wilbur himself. He looked a bit like a centaur, with a human torso connected to a pure white and thorax and abdomen.He also wore a strange white mask with a blank eyed smiley face drawn on.

Two huge claw arms- similar to those of a praying mantis- extended from Dreams waist and slammed into the dirt either side of Wilbur, startling him enough that he fell onto his ass. The king leaned forward with that lifeless grin, and Will closed his eyes, preparing for the end.

“But…” Dream said thoughtfully “A proper experiment should account and test for all variables, shouldn't it?”

“Y-yeah generally” Wilbur stuttered

“Oh good.” Dream hoisted him roughly to his feet. “I’m glad I asked you. After all, you know all about experiments, don’t you?”

Wilbur chose not to answer, glowering at Dream as the eyes on his mask briefly glowed a dull green.

A moment later, Sapnap and George marched in, dragging a cussing and struggling Tommy behind them.

“YOU STUPID MOTHEFUCKERS!!! Let me go or ill get married in rage!! Fuck you and-! Oh. wow that is a big fella.” Tommy stopped and stared in awe at Dream

“Sapnap, give Wilbur your spear.” Dream ordered.

A flicker of doubt crossed Sapnaps face but he obediently shoved the spear into Wilbur's hands.

“I’ll make you a deal, Wilbur Soot.” Dream purred, circling him. “I will let you go to your old life. You can do whatever you like; kill us, torment us, throw us away… it doesn't matter. All you have to do is kill one ant.” He gestured to Tommy.

“What?” Wilbur whispered.

“WHAT?!” Tommy roared “fuck you! I'm not your dumb-ass pawn, I'm going to kill you! Rrrrrrrrrrr!” he writhed, attempting to bite George who did a surprisingly good job of holding him still.

“Go on.” Dream cooed “It's just one insignificant ant standing between you and freedom. You've killed hundreds. What's one more?”

Spear in hand, Wilbur took a hesitant step forward.

Tommy's gaze snapped up “Wilby?” He asked, his struggling pausing for a moment.

Their eyes met, fear clashing with sorrow. Tommy seemed to see something in Wilbur's expression and hung his head in defeat. As if he had expected Wilbur to betray him.

Oh hell no. Fuck that. Wilbur angrily tossed the spear aside.

“No. I won't.”

“What?” Dream spat

Wilbur rounded on him “No! I won't kill him! Keep me here, kill me, hunt me for sport, whatever! Just leave him out of this! Tommy has been nothing but nice to me since I met him, even though it don't deserve it!” He rubbed his arm. “God knows I don't deserve it.”

“Hmm…” Dream hummed “Are you sure, even if it costs you your life?” One of Dream's massive claw arms grazed his side, a subtle threat.

Wilbur looked over at Tommy, who had a look of hope on his face.

“Yeah.” Will smiled, “I'm sure.”

I probably could have written more, but i wont. I hope you like this fic bitty! Thanks for reading :)

Edit: Fortune, this is amazing! Like, I hadn't really thought about this encounter in a lot of detail, but I honestly like this a lot! And Dream being a big boy since he's the king ant. Just yes. Thank you so much for this.

#submission #fan work #tiny!tommy #tiny!wilbur #tiny!dream #tiny!sapnap #tiny!george #giant!dream? #maybe? #mcyt gt #thank you again! #betmyfortune

[syn0vial]

Hello Wise One! I was actually hoping if you can give me some solid personality pointers on Jango, rather than Boba, Fett?

sure thing! full disclosure that my knowledge of jango is not as extensive as my knowledge of boba, but i’ll do my best with what i have! here are some personality traits of jango’s i’ve observed:

paranoid/protective: this is a big one if you ask me. jango endured a life of betrayal and loss before he became a bounty hunter and it shows. besides boba, he doesn’t trust anyone fully, not even those closest to him and is always ready to cut ties at the drop of a hat—lethally, if necessary. his mistrust of the rest of the galaxy is so potent that when he takes boba on missions to populated areas, he instructs him to hide even from normal foot traffic and becomes anxious when he learns that others may have spotted him. it becomes pretty evident that part of the reason boba was so isolated growing up was that jango didn’t trust the vast majority of the galaxy enough to let them near the kid. and when other bounty hunters find out about him? ho boy. jango actually convinces them that he killed boba using a cloned child’s body, bc he’d rather be known as the worst kind of monster rather than make boba a target. there’s also the fact that, after their apartment on kamino gets found out by obi-wan, jango is packed and ready to leave in minutes. not only is he ready to bug out at the first sign of danger, but he’s well-prepared to do so at a moment’s notice.

a loving father: another big one. for those who look at a man as battle-hardened and stoic as jango fett and wonder whether boba got enough affection as a kid, worry not: in the vast majority of depictions, jango is a very loving father, especially when he’s out of the prying eyes of clients and colleagues. he hugs boba, tells him he loves him, joins him in playing with toy starfighters, and tries to make time for him as much as he can. he even does his dadly duty of going fishing with his son (though he and boba practice spearfishing rather than using a rod and tackle). there’s also a wistful little scene where, trying to help boba feel better after zam’s death, he takes him to kamino’s main spaceport and lets him infodump about all the ships he sees there :,) so overall, he has a lot of good qualities as a dad

controlling: and the other side of the coin! while jango is a genuinely loving father, he’s not at all the type to encourage his son’s independent development. self-sufficiency? sure. interests in anything other than the path jango has laid out for him? not really. he actively discourages boba from learning about “unimportant” topics from books, an apparently very broad category given it includes things such as schools, moms, and other children. he drills into boba’s head that he’s going to be a bounty hunter and that he needs to abide by a code with such healthy guidelines like, “don’t have friends or attachments” and “trust no one but use everyone.” boba, of course, goes with it bc he loves his father and wants to live up to his expectations, but he never really gets a choice in the matter. honestly, i think this side of jango is best summed up by him leaving a post-humous note for boba that says, among other things, “i am more than a parent to you.” it kind of goes along with how, after jango’s death, boba continued to think of his father not just with love and grief, but also an almost religious dread of failing his expectations. jango undoubtedly loved his son but he also seems to have defined a very narrow path for him to walk, without room for deviation.

possesses an actual charisma score: okay, now for a more fun one: jango has a charisma score and he apparently makes a habit of using it, to the point where his old friend rozatta pokes fun at him for it (he compliments her and she’s like “oh, you’re flattering me? must mean you want something!”) he also pulls the same thing on zam, calling her charming to get her to agree to help him break into a target’s stronghold. so yeah, jango fett turning up the charm to get people to help him/give him info? 100% canon, baby

very fun friendship with zam wesell: look, this isn’t a personality trait, but it’s important to me. these two are just so fucking funny together. like, on the surface, it’s just a fun dynamic of zam making flirty banter and jokes while jango pretends to be annoyed and drag her, much to her delight. but then on a professional level, you have these two ammoral assholes bouncing wildly between being one another’s Sexy Rival and being one another’s Unhinged Partner but whoops, jango went and had a kid, so now they’re Unhinged But Mostly Responsible Co-Parents. one of my favorite scenes is when, in an attempt to intimidate a prisoner into talking, zam impersonates a politician and lets jango pretend to “kill” her in front of him. for some reason, even after they’re done, jango continues to bridal carry zam’s “body” into the cockpit of slave I, at which point, she perks up, bats her eyelashes at him, and goes, “you’d never really kill me would you, jango?” jango quite honestly replies, “only if i had to.” there’s a beat and then zam’s like, “....you’re so sweet! 😘” honestly, they’re so stupid, i love them

ascetic: much like his son, jango doesn’t seem to have much interest in luxury or “the finer things.” despite having enough money to live very comfortably, his apartment on kamino is described as “spartan” in design and furnishing. this may have something to do with the first bullet point, given that a simple life is easier to pack up and take with you at a moment’s notice, but i do think there’s some amount of preference in this lifestyle, given it’s what both fetts seem most comfortable with in all circumstances.

traumatized: i mean, he’s a fett, ain’t he? particularly, just like boba after him, jango is traumatized by the loss of his family, especially his own father figure, jaster mereel. much like boba, jango seems haunted by the need to live up to jaster’s name and legacy. for background, jaster was betrayed and killed in an ambush by the leader of deathwatch, after which he passed on the title of mand’alor to jango. however, some time after this, the true mandalorians led by jango were wiped out by a combination of death watch and the jedi, with jango himself being stripped of his armor and sold as a slave. after this point, jango does not seem to see himself as worthy of jaster’s legacy and thus attempts to pass it on to his son, resulting in the high and narrow expectations he sets for boba as mentioned in bullet point #3. boba himself concludes as much as an adult. on top of the trauma of losing his family, jango also seems to have been traumatized by his time as a slave. most notably, when he’s being tortured after being captured by target komari vosa, he at first remains fairly stoic, even as she starts to mutilate his face. it isn’t until she mentions enslaving him that he seems to panic, struggling desperately to get away. vosa even laughs and says that she must have touched a nerve with her comment. basically: fetts be traumatized :(

soft spot for (some) kids: another thing that’s interesting about jango is that he... usually attempts to do right when kids are involved. i say “usually” bc fat lot of good it did all the cloned children he had a hand in creating >:( but, for example, after killing a runaway clonetrooper as part of a bounty, he finds out that the clone had a son. unwilling to let the child live in poverty due to his own actions, he has regular payments sent to the boy’s mother to help support him. in another instance, jango and zam help deliver an artifact to a client who intends to use it to carry out a terrorist attack on coruscant against millions of civilians. when zam finds out about the client’s intentions, she’s horrified and goes to jango demanding they steal the artifact back. jango completely brushes her off at first, telling her it’s not his problem and that he needs to spend more time with his son. zam coldly asks him how many “sons” he thinks live on coruscant. needless to say, her argument convinces him to join her in stopping the terrorist plot :,)

aaand that’s all i got at the moment! i hope it helps to characterize jango a little bit more!

#crcgeneralwandsmith #jango fett #boba fett #zam wesell #fetts pass on trauma like a family heirloom :`) #like ''got this from grandpa jaster so don't lose it now''

[shadyteacup]

May I ask a scenario with ADA dazai who falls for an agency member and she's really strong both mentally and physically and is loved by everyone in the agency? She also used to be a soldier in that war so she has seen plenty of things and she's not afraid of dark thing etc... Hope I wasn't so demanding have a nice day (forgive me for my English)

Heyyyy :>

This was such a good ask, I went all out and wrote a bit too much. So I'll be posting it as two parts. :)

And don't worry, love, you're English is immaculate!

Do lemme know if you like this... I'll probably be posting part two tmrw or in some hours... I just need to do one final touch up :D

Partners (part 1)

Dazai x gn! Reader

Tw: Lots of action and fighting, a little blood, implied death.

If u can handle bsd fight scenes, then u can read this... dw, it's not gory or too violent..

"I have your back, go!", you say as you shoot at the enemy hiding behind the car.

"Got it!", Dazai says, as he jogs to the adjacent safe place.

You two were assigned a job, one that you had initially thought was a simple task: Find the missing girl.

You hadn't expected any foul play. Apparently, the girl in pursuit wasn't kidnapped. She had run away from her home. She had a record of disappearing out of the blue, so you had figured she was just taking some time away from her family, like she usually does. The parents approached the ada when the police were unable to find her. So you guys concluded that she was kidnapped. There had been no calls for any ransom, so you chalked up the possibility of her kidnapper being a sex offender, a sadist, or a cult member. You knew you had to act quick before he hurt her. You and Dazai had worked together to collect all the breadcrumbs, and had triangulated the location of a criminal who had just gotten out of prison. He had served 6 years for various sexual assaults and rapes. You had concluded that this must be his doing. It was too much of a coincidence for a girl to get kidnapped just one week after a criminal had been released.

You both had walked right into the enemie's trap.

The man, Ito Sōta, held the girl at gun point at the center of an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse belonged to a small criminal group. He must have joined this group after being released.

The group, a small organization in need of monetary support, wanted to impress the mafia. They had arranged for this ploy to defeat a few members of the ada and hopefully get in the mafia's goodbooks.

They had used Ito's criminal record to lure the ada into the warehouse, and rain fire upon them, hoping to defeat them.

"That's the most logical explanation", Dazai had said, when you two had been ambushed by ten or so men and their many bullets.

Dazai hid behind a cargo container.

"We have to move fast. I manged to neutralize them, but I'm pretty sure there are more on the way, and some more protecting Ito.", you say, leaning against the box.

Dazai hummed.

"So, what's the plan?"

He thought for a second, then said,

"You are good at combat, so why don't you take them on, and clear a path for me.."

" I see.. I distract while you sneak an attack on Ito."

"Exactly."

You change the magazine of your glock,inserting a fresh one.

"Sounds good."

At your count, you began running towards the guards ahead. You had a shielding ability, allowing you to shield yourself from bullets, fire explosions, and prevent it from touching you. Ofcourse, you couldn't control heat, so if you were to be near an explosion, while the fire wouldn't burn your skin, the heat radiating from it would definitely hurt you.

Your ability only worked when you activated it. It wasn't always activated, and would take quite a lot of your energy if you kept it on at all times.

A few men had noticed you, and had started shooting you. The bullets bounced off your shield, falling to the ground. You continued charging towards the center, aiming at the men that were in Dazai's path. Taking them down was easy enough; they were just meat and bones that could shoot, and desperately lacked a brain. If bullets don't work, shouldn't they try hand to hand combat? But no. These idiots were so hopelessly dumb, that they kept shooting you, standing tall and proud, and presenting themselves as easy targets for your bullets.

'Well, it works for me... so keep being stupid, guys!' You thought as you shot a majority of them down.

Dazai hid behind the containers, jogging over to the center. He handled a few men that were in his way, as you cleared almost all of them for him.

Soon enough, you approached a man and two women, clad in suits, that charged at you with an assortment of weapons. They dodged your bullets, and tried to attack you.

'These guys are smart'

The first bulky guy swung his dagger at you. You dodged; the knife brushing past your cheek in the process. It was OK, you were a master in martial arts, afterall. Taking them down wouldn't be so difficult.

You grabbed his arm, jumping off the ground and twisting your torso midway to land behind him. His arm was now twisted, and you swiped at his legs, resulting in him falling to the ground. You swiped the dagger from his palm, stabbing him in the knees and his dominant arm. The spots you had targeted were sensitive points, that paralyzed his limbs.

Moving on to the woman charging at you with a club, you threw the dagger at her. She twisted to dodge it. The dagger plunged in her shoulder. She cried out in pain. You had tricked her by throwing your own dagger a split second later, aiming in the direction of her reflex duck.

The other woman had used her partners as a distraction to sneak up behind you. She held a thick metal chain, that she wound around your neck, choking you. You tried prying it off, but she was too powerful. So you slammed back into her, your head hitting her nose, pushing her back and effectively loosening her grip on the chain. Grabbing the front, you slipped your fingers between the chain and your neck, crating some space to breathe. You then yanked it forward, bruising your neck in the process. Slipping out from the chain, you wound it on your palm, halving it. You used it as a whip on the woman, drawing blood from her nose. She dodged your next swing, punching you in the gut. She was really strong, that's for sure. You spit out blood from the impact. You were about to stab her when a bullet hit her head.

"Thanks.", you say to Dazai, who had shot her from his position; very close to Ito.

He nodded, continuing his journey towards the girl.

Fighting your way through, you finally reached Ito. You stood right opposite him.

"Well done! You successfully defeated fifty of my men!"

He said, pressing the gun against the girl's temple. He wanted to play a game with you. He wanted to make you choose whom he should kill; the girl, or you.

"But, alas, you won't be able to save her."

Ito felt a cool sensation on his head, and heard a click of a gun right behind him.

You smirked.

"You sure about that?"

He grit his teeth, raising his arms in defeat.

Dazai pushed him on the ground, handcuffing him.

"It was quite a smart plan. It wasn't elaborate, though. Such a pitiful organization you have. No wonder you're desperate for the Mafia's attention."

Dazai said.

"Did you really believe you could trick the armed detective agency?"

He glared down at the man, his face adorning a menacing look.

"If the mafia hears about this, you will be dead before you can even think of the word 'escape'. Whoever breaks the peace between the Mafia and the A.D.A, will have hell to pay."

You scoffed.

"If you had half a brain, you would know to never mess with the two organizations. Did you really think you could use us?" You laughed.

"How naive!"

You heard a whimper.

You looked at the girl, noticing her fearful expression. You deactivated your ability, now that the job was done. The girl whimpered again, but it sounded abnormal. It sounded artificial. Something didn't feel right.

"Hey, it's alright now. You're safe."

You say to the girl. She looks at you with wide eyes.

"It's all under control. We're here to take you back home. This guy can't hurt you anymore."

You move closer to her, crouching down to her level.

"Tell me. Did he hurt you?"

You place a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

She stared at you for a second, then grinned. All the fear had vanished from her eyes. They now held a malicious gleam.

"You fell right in!"

She cackled.

"Right in the rabbit hole!"

She giggled, snapping her fingers.

All you heard was a sharp sound. A ringing in your ears. And a scream. Was that Dazai? Or was it you? Who knows.

You look down to your torso, and notice a dark red stain on your shirt.

Suddenly, you felt it. The pain was overwhelming. You had been shot before; you were a part of a war, afterall. But it was always in the shoulder, or limbs. This was your first time getting hit on the torso. You had probably broken a rib or two. You could feel your lungs being filled with something. It felt heavy.

Blood? Yeah probably. You couldn't think straight. You remember feeling tired. You didn't even register your knees giving away, or the pair of strong arms that caught you right before you fell.

#teacup #teacup writes #shadyteacup #shady☕ #☕ #☕ says #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bsd #kunikida doppo #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs dazai #bsd dazai #dazai bungou stray dogs #dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu x reader #osamu imagine #bsd dazai osamu #dazai+x+reader #dazai x you #dazai x atsushi #dazai san #dazai fluff #osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #hq osamu #osamudazai #dazai osamu x you

[seyenna]

Philza and/or Techno and/or Ranboo fic recs

just some of my fav dsmp fics, mainly phil, techno or ranboo bc i’m biased but also a bunch of sbi and others

this one goes out mainly to zablr discord my beloved

pls tell me if the links don’t work

all of these are on ao3

rating\status(complete/ongoing)\warnings\word count\misc tags

ichor flows free amongst the iron by summer_rising

T\o\violence\13k\series\gods AU

Summary:

A gods and goddesses AU of the Dream SMP, dramatized for all our benefits.

First work:

  "Two gods meeting on a mountaintop overlooking the stormy sea? Very classy, Dream, I appreciate your taste."

  Dream didn't turn to look at him, but the faint shake of his shoulders let Techno know he had heard.

  "Scar's healing up nicely, I see," Techno mumbled with a light nod of his head.

  "Mhm. Cut nice and clean. Not that I expected any less from you, of course."

   ~~

   The god of power and the god of luck meet on a mountaintop to discuss Luck's standing in the ongoing political disaster.

We're Only Young by ImperialKatwala

G\o\-\66k\series\Dream & Technoblade

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

And when the sun comes up, you'll find a brand new god. by SkyboxZoo

M\o\violence\19k\gods AU

Summary:

The wounds from the fight had healed nigh instantly, but the golden blood still soaked Techno’s shirt. His cloak had gotten torn off and his hair had fallen out of its pony-tail. Ichor pooled in his boots. The man left a trail of golden, bloody footprints in his wake.

old gods (new gods) by WriterWinged

T\o\-\9k\series\gods AU

Summary of first work:

Survival, Blood, Madness. Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot. Three gods who have never cared for mortal life, who play with them when they want to, who kill their toys just as easily. How, then, did a mortal end up in their hands?

This House Is A Fucking Nightmare by SilverWing15

T\c\-\17k\series\sbi

Summary:

AU Where Phil isn't quite as willing to stand by while his sons drop like flies

Summary of third part (my fav):

Does lingering too long in the shadow of a god make you a god? The voices in his head seem to think so.

His brothers know he's older than them but they don't know how much

OR: Technoblade doesn't think his brothers realize how different they are from ordinary men. After all, ordinary men may fight the gods, but they don't win.

It's been a long day. by BecausePlot

G\c\-\3k\Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

Sides are bad: he knows that much. He’s seen it tear people apart time and time again, so when he decided to separate himself from Tubbo and keep his distance, he knew he was in the right.

Well. He thought he was in the right, at the time. Sitting all by himself on the steps to the Prime Path, he’s not so sure anymore.

Yes, the sides might have torn the others apart, might have made them so weak that they have no choice but to fold under Dream’s hand, but at least they aren’t lonely.

So are sides bad?

‘I don’t know.’

~*~

Or, Ranboo looks out at the ruins of L'Manburg, feeling more lost and lonely than he ever has.

But, as he soon finds, he's not as alone as he thinks.

the voices in my head, they say a lot of things by rosyasteria

-\c\violence\1k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

Some days the voices didn’t listen. They didn’t let up. They screamed instead of whispered, relentless, assaulting his ears until they bled.

tell them i was the warmest place you knew and you turned me cold by rosyasteria

-\c\-\2k\Techonblade-centric

Summary:        

Technoblade cared. But in the end it just fucked him over.

For the majority of his life, Techno felt like less of a companion, less of a family member, and more like a weapon to be wielded. 'The Blade' they called him; never 'friend'.

It Leaves Little Time for Anything Else by mirandible

M\c\-\1k\part of series\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

   A young man aims for the top, but fate has other plans for him. So does Technoblade, apparently.

   (Or: answering the question of “Why does Techno hide his scars if they’re supposed to be some sort of trophy? Why keep your point of pride a secret?”)

the best requiem is a bar of silence (and I'll sing it, even if I must hold back my tears) by jello12451

T\o\-\10k\Philza & Technoblade

Summary:

   He can’t help the noise of celebration that escapes him. Techno- this means that Techno’s free, and he got his horse back, and everything is alright-

  Tubbo, filled with rage at Phil’s cheers, turns and impulsively shoots an arrow.

   He doesn’t expect to hit his target.

---

  Alternatively: What if Phil didn't have a bucket of water when Tubbo shot him?

Change fate by being aggressively kind by sircantus

T\o\-\13k\sbi, Philza-centric

Summary:

   “You do understand that you’re caring for the thing meant to bring destruction and chaos to our world, right?” The woman asks, Phil looking behind him fondly as Techno grabs at the ends of his wings.

   “He’s just a child.” Phil answers distractedly, humming as his wings get gently yanked at.

   “He’s the first of three to destroy life as we know it! Shouldn’t we, well, get rid of him?!”

   “Oh, no.” Phil raises his eyes with a sharp glare. “Believe me, I have my own way of preventing the apocalypse.”

   ---

   Or, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are basically chaotic forces of nature, destined from birth to end the world and bring destruction. Most who hear of the tale of them are trying their best to track them down, and to end the monsters while they’re still young, still just children.

   Phil has a different plan.

   (In which Phil raises the minecraft equivalents of the anti-christ with love and support, so much so to the point where the world ending is really just a funny thought, and Phil has three kids who casually have powers that are bit more extreme than anything else in the world)

I promised you that everything would be fine by findingkairos

G\c\-\6k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

   manifestation: (n.)

1.     an event, action, or object that clearly shows or embodies something abstract or theoretical;

2.     a version or incarnation of something or someone;

3.     an appearance of a ghost or spirit;

4.     the Blood God.

When he's young and still alone, still establishing his reputation as the immortal warrior, Technoblade makes up an imaginary friend.

Years later, the blood god is very real and very much a god: one that is prepared to do anything for their first and only friend.

the inner mechanism of a black box by Bee_4

T\c\violence, self-harm\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

   Technoblade lets himself get imprisoned for Philza’s sake. He doesn’t plan on being there long. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Pandora’s Vault.

   There are things that will make even the Blade fall apart in due time, as it turns out.

carry all my sins by BananasofThorns

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo-centric

Summary:

Ranboo swallows. “All my armor and weapons and stuff are missing. Fundy and I were gonna go looking for them after the festival, I think.”

“I see.” Tubbo smiles again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s just a festival. We could probably find someone to lend you a sword or an axe or something.”

He starts towards the stage, waving at people when they call his name, and Ranboo follows. The original panic has dulled to a cold buzz in his chest, but apprehension still wraps itself around his body like chains. He doesn’t like being without his armor and tools; he feels too exposed, and if something happens, he’ll be helpless.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo calls, glancing back.

Ranboo shakes his head and hurries to catch up. “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Everything’s gonna be fine."

Tubbo grins. “That’s the spirit.”

Rule 5: be loyal. L'manberg doesn't do well with supposed traitors. Ranboo deals with the consequences.

Sojourn by Lacy_Star

T\o\-\13k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

“Well…” Ranboo started slowly, “You see, uh… I kinda… don’t have a house anymore, obviously. Um… Phil found me in—“ He paused, cutting himself off and squinting at the floorboards— very discreet, “Phil… found me. And… um… He said I could stay by you guys. Like, um, by the dog house he wants to build?” He paused, then began to ramble, “But, uh, if you don’t want me here, I understand— and I’m sorry for coming in your house when you weren’t here, I swear I didn’t touch anything— it was just cold outside and—“

Techno just stared at him. And how, how was this the second time this had happened to him? How was this the second time he returned home after battle to discover an injured teenage boy waiting for him, seeking assistance with nowhere to go? And how badly had that ended last time, in nothing but betrayal and insults?

---

AKA: Phil drags a half-enderman home after Doomsday, and Techno decides that they can keep it. For now.

can an axe count as rent? by aboutfivebees

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

Ranboo’s struggling to settle into his new life on the Arctic Anarchist Commune, but at least he’s got bread.

or the struggles of an enderman hybrid to come up with a housewarming gift to give to his friends, who are just trying to adopt him

The Caged Bird Sings of Freedom by StarPrince_Punk

T\o\-\25k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

The Blade's stance was still tense, his body prepared to fight at a moment’s notice if need be. “What’s your name?” Phil asked “My… name?” The Blade asked. “Yeah. Your name isn’t actually The Blade, right? That’s like a stage name?” Phil tried to keep his tone light. “What’s your real name?” The Blade hesitated. “No one… No one’s called me by my name in a long time.” ------- When Phil comes across Ranboo in his panic room after L'Manberg's destruction, it reminds him of when he first met Technoblade. And just like when he met Techno, Phil's first instinct is that he has to help this kid. While living together, Techno and Ranboo learn that they're much more similar than they had previously thought, and Phil learns that it's not too late for him to be a better dad.

This already feels like more of a home by H3118ENDER

T\o\violence, death\18k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

As the ashes of L'Manberg settle the conflict continues to come to life setting the stage for a new wave of blood shed. Stuck slam in the middle of past and present friends Ranboo is coming to learn that even without nations to their names feelings and feuds don't die but people, people do.

A Shadow of a Shadow by unappetizingegg

T\c\-\4k\ Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

There were a few beats of silence, and then- “What are your plans, now? Do you need a place to stay?”

That caught him off guard. Surely he’d heard incorrectly. Phil was offering him a home, right after he’d orchestrated the destruction of his past one? It didn’t make any sense, none of it did. Why would Phil say that?

Then he remembered, he remembered Techno stopping him in the fight. He remembered being handed his book, the question in Techno’s gaze. He swore, in that moment, Technoblade, the Technoblade, had been worried about him. He remembered that he had been told to leave, to run, to get away and preserve himself. He had spared him, he remembered that Techno had spared him.

Techno had helped him. Phil had tried to protect him, to get him away from the danger.

They were there for him.

 ---

alternatively:

Ranboo is alone. But he really isn't.

Meritocracy by oddsbodkins

G\o\-\18k\Dream & Technoblade, sbi, medieval AU

Summary:

Dream is more successful than he'd ever imagined - but there's one thing that's been bothering him. Technoblade, his biggest rival, the Acolyte of the Blood God and King of the Arena, went missing last spring, just before Dream got the chance to duel him. Without that one achievement to pave his way, all the following victories have felt cheap.

So, Dream hired some goons to dig Technoblade up and pester him into coming back to the Capitol, for one last showdown. Easy enough, right?

Interlude I: "Promises to Keep" by Ozzyyy

T\c\-\1k\part of a series\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

These woods are lovely, dark, and deep But I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep.

--

Techno has a plan. It's crazy. It's insane, it's actually just batshit bonkers. But if chaos cannot be enjoyed together, then what's it worth, yeah? There's a certain beauty in watching the world burn from the center of the flames. Phil intends to be there.

I Don't Want To Start A Fight (wouldn't you rather start a riot?) by KryOnBlock

T\c\violence, death\15k\Technoblade & Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

An universal ping rang out from behind him, the third and final he knew, and Phil sobbed, clutching the body tighter.

Techno didn’t move.

It always has been Technoblade and Philza, Philza and Technoblade. Take on half, and you shall never go back.

Sheltered by Lulatic

G\c\-\6k\Ranboo & Technoblade

Summary:

It was cold outside. But Techno never heard Ranboo complain.

That was the best excuse he could muster to keep him out.

Antarctic Princes 'verse by BirchWrites

T\o\-\15k\series\sbi

Summary:

Loosely-connected one shots set in an AU where the Antarctic Empire and the Dream SMP are in the same world. Ordered chronologically, but each fic can be read as a standalone thing

Summary of first part:

Oh shit. Forget arrested; Dream’s going to have to tell Wilbur that he watched Tommy get stabbed for being terminally stupid.

May we cross paths again by QueenLunaFreed

G\c\-\1k\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

“Even if tomorrow it’s just us versus the entire server, Dream, I’m telling you right now - I have confidence.”

---

Dream couldn’t comprehend the pacing contradiction in front of him, the weakness he could clearly see, but would never comment on. Because this man has been defying Dream's expectations since they first met, because despite them not being friends and having no reason to trust each other, Dream knew that Technoblade is the only person who he’d trust to do this right. To destroy L'Manberg alongside him yet again, this time for real.

leave me your starlight by findingkairos

T\o\-\18k\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

For you the world, Phil.

Once upon a time, Philza Minecraft is the only person who does not shy away from the bloody teen that regularly turns the tide of war.

This cements a friendship that will last wars, empires, worlds, and lifetimes.

 ---

(Featuring: Back to Back Badasses, healthy relationships, accidental deification, intentional world domination, and Phil's past coming back to haunt his best friend.)

#fanfic #dsmp #technoblade #philza #ranboo #zablr #fic recs