#freeze is an infuriating response to deal with

[adainesfuriousgun]

I haven’t seen nearly enough people talking about Siobhan telling Freeze that he’s “a valid response, just not right now.”

It’s truly ALL I can think about.

Because hoo boy. As a motherfucker in treatment for Complex-PTSD, l am constantly wrestling with my freeze response, and that shit made me ugly cry.

#dimension 20 #mentopolis #siobhan thompson #all of the shit with freeze has been handled so well #because yes #freeze is an infuriating response to deal with #in moments of stress and trauma #but you also have to remember that it’s a part of you #that is trying its very best to protect you #and you have to be kind to that part of yourself #even when you don’t want to be kind at all

[mistress-riddle]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃. tommy shelby x reader.

✐ 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

❧ cw. typical violence, alcohol consumption, mentions of a child almost getting blown up, the usual 🤷🏻‍♀️

❧ r. I was wondering if I could request one where she happens to be back at the house/betting shop at the time when the Lees destroy it and the fact that the Lees still did that with there being a woman, let alone the woman who is his significant other, in the shop really infuriates Tommy when he comes back to see that she’d been affected by it. I’ll leave it up to you for how you want to end it. ☺️ — @runnning-outof-time

"ooh, where are you heading?" you ask polly who places a hat on top of her head and she sends you a smile as you greet her. she means to answer but tommy joins your side and interrupts her by asking "where's john?"

"john's at the garrison," she informs and tommy's brows furrow "says he wants a meeting about a family matter." you hear him sigh and so you put your hand on his shoulder and he gives you a look of exasperation.

"easy tommy, he just wants a meeting, not to overthrow the government."

"and well, we know he'd that himself." polly remarks and you snicker in response, she purses her lips in return "besides, he'll say his piece and he'll be back to take his place with scudboat." her nephew merely rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief.

"scudboat, john will be here in ten minutes." polly declares and walks away, fixing her gloves on her way out to the garrison.

"five." tommy corrects before following her, but he stops halfway and turns to you "you coming?"

"i'll stay, still haven't had breakfast." you tell him and point over to scudboat "he might also need some help counting."

tommy stares for a few seconds before nodding "i'll be back soon, love."

.

he walks out and you take a seat at scudboat's table continuing his counting as he locks up. having two people deal with the work quickened the pace and soon the two of you were done counting. you leaned back in your seat.

"would you like something from the kitchen, scudboat?" you follow your question with some offers "tea or some biscuits?"

he nods "tea would be nice, miss." you shoot him a smile as you get up however you're stopped from actually walking to the kitchen as the instant you stand, the doors bust open. almost like instinct, you see scudboat pull out what you presume is a gun from the side of your eye and you freeze in your spot with both arms raised in surrender.

"put that down!" you hear one of the men order and around 2-3 men with weapons circle scudboat and restrain him whilst you face the end of a barrel.

"this is for cheltham." a man with a gypsy accent and bandages covering his right ear announces as he moves his aim from you to scudboat and you hold back a groan. of course tommy angered the lee family during his visit to the races, of fucking course "we're just taking back what's ours." he drives the end of the gun to scudboat's face, effectively dropping him to the floor.

he then turns to you once more "where are the loots, huh?" he asks gruffly and you withhold a grimace.

"i don't what you're talking about." you respond, annoyed at the entire situation you were left in.

"come on, you're tommy's girl, are you not? he must've told you where they are." a scoff escapes your lips and you roll your eyes, arms crossing before your chest.

"what makes you think that?" you cock your head to the side, eyes widening in an innocent expression "i only work here to serve the men drinks and clean up."

the man lets out a hoarse laugh and clutches your face in his hold "don't mess with me, i know who you are." your face drops and you hold his gaze.

"then you must know that tommy will have your head if he so much as sees a scar on me?" you threaten softly and his grip loosens "or are you as stupid as you look, i mean you must be because who in their right mind would steal from the peaky blinders?--" you're stopped by a slap across your face.

"fuck you," he spits in your direction, probably realising that you won't give up information and are only wasting time, stalling for the shelby's return. you don't react, however, eyes staring daggers as he orders his men "search everywhere!" he tells them and they leave scudboat to fall on the floor to disperse around the betting shop, flipping the place all over in search of what the peaky blinders retrieved. you slip away during their distraction and kneel beside the injured man.

"i'm sorry" you whisper, reaching for a cloth on a nearby table to dab at the deep wound on his temple. it didn't take long for the men to leave, laughing as you hear something clunk against a table and within a few minutes, finn walks through the kitchen, his stroll halted at the sight of you and scudboat crouched on the floor.

"finn!" you call the boy and he runs to you, worry in his eyes "go and call your brothers, tell them to hurry here." you pat his cheek softly once he's close enough and with a nod, he races of to the garrison. you pull a fallen chair and stand it up right, helping scudboat on the chair.

"love," you hear tommy's voice before you see him "are you alright?" he asks and you leave scudboat as tommy gathers you in his arms, a kiss pressed against the crown of your head, and you inhale his familiar scent of cigarettes, whiskey and a mix of cologne.

"what the bloody hell happened here?" arthur asks from somewhere behind you and scudboat answers him as john surveys the betting shop, feet stomping in anger.

"tommy, i'm fine" you reassure him, patting his chest as you pull away. the slap was nothing as far as you were concerned "however, they took what they could find, sorry we couldn't do anything about it, they were all armed."

tommy shakes his head at you "fuck that, what matters is you're alright." he places a kiss on your forehead once more before detaching from you to scan the place. you turn to see arthur tending to scudboat (serving him alcohol, you note with a chuckle) and instead choose to stand beside polly who reaches a hand out to hold your own.

"your cheek's red." you see the dissatisfied expression she's wearing and tap her hand.

"polly, i'm fine, don't worry." whatever she intends to say dies down her throat as tommy approaches the centre of the room, wire cutters held in his hand.

"they left these." he shows the people in the room the tool and you and polly share a confused look.

"wire cutters?" the older woman questions.

"what for?" you ask and hesitate when you see the alarm quickly taking over the shelby brothers faces.

"nobody move." arthur instructs but you furrow your eyebrows at him.

"i think our friends are playing the game." your confusion turns to tommy instead and you feel the frustration rising at the lack of explanation.

"what game?" polly asks, putting away the cash box she picked up earlier with her free hand and john stops her from continuing "aunt pol, don't touch anything." he pleads.

"erasmus lee was in france."

"an explanation would be grand since not all of us were in said france." you snap, anxiety at its peak.

"when we gave up ground to the germans," tommy begins, looking straight into your eyes "we'd leave behind booby traps set up with wires. then we'd leave wire cutters, it's part of the joke." you let out a laugh of disbelief.

"somewhere in here there's a hand grenade attached to a wire." john declares and you shake your head.

"holy jesus."

"but we've all moved and touched multiple things in the room, surely it would've gone off by now," you surmise, nibbling on your lip and you catch sight of tommy's pensive face "and there aren't any obvious wires here, they couldn't have stayed long enough to set it either." you clarify.

"you're right," tommy nods "the bullet's in my name. he set up a trap intended for me specifically." you hold his gaze and see the pieces click in his brain and soon he walks out of the house.

everyone pauses and they look at you "the car!" you exclaim and follow after him, leaving the shelby's and scudboat behind.

you lift your dress up and catch up to tommy, bumping slightly into him, just to find his arm extended, talking to someone in his car. the person he's softly talking to causes your heart to drop to your stomach.

"finn," he calls out "stay exactly where you are." you raise a hand to cover your mouth and try to steady your fast beating heart.

"i was pretending i was you." finn giggles and you feel something stab into your heart, tommy leaves you behind as he slowly inches towards his baby brother.

"which door did you open to come in, finn?" tommy asks him and you can hear the panic in his voice.

"i didn't, i climbed in."

"i want you to climb out exactly the same way you climbed in, okay?" tommy approaches even closer, getting to the right side of the car.

"listen to your brother, finn." you call out from the entrance of the garage but finn merely giggles and opens the door anyways.

"NO!"

"FINN!"

you run towards the boy, arms open to cover him his small body and tommy quickly retracts the bomb from the car and throws it outside into the streets, yelling a "clear!" as he discards it. you feel him shortly join your embrace afterwards as it goes off.

once he deems it safe to assess the damage, you both walk together with finn holding onto both your hands and tommys. a collective sigh of relief escapes you two before tommy drops down to face finn, holding the boy's face in his hands "this is why you should never pretend to be me."

you watch tommy hug finn who still tightly clung to your hand and tommy looks into your eyes once again, relief washing over them and you send him a tired smile.

"come on finn, how about we go get you some sweets huh?" you ask the boy and he nods eagerly. tommy ruffles his hair and gives him another short hug before letting him leave with you.

once you get home, finn full of sweets and no longer ruffled, you prepare a bathe before you settle in bed. you allow your restless body to finally relax and soak in the warmth of the tub. around half an hour later you wrap your hair in a cloth to absorb the water that still clung to your tresses and apply your moisturiser. your fingers pause when you hear your door open suddenly and in an instant you grab the closest thing beside you and hold it in the direction of the intruder.

"very effective weapon, dear." you look at the item in your hand and let out a scoff/laugh.

"wouldn't need to think about having a weapon if it weren't for your lifestyle." you argue and tommy scoffs in return, busy removing his shoes and outwear.

"[name], you're a woman who lives alone in small heath of all places." the look he sends you makes you snort "even if you had nothing to do with me, you wouldn't be that safe."

"that's wonderful to hear actually, will go to bed feeling safe and sound." you deadpan and he sits himself on your bed, watching as you get back to working the moisturiser into your skin.

"of course, always happy to let my woman know she's safe and protected." you toss one of your powder brushes at him and he easily catches it with a laugh.

"come here already," he beckons you and with a roll of your eyes, you join him under the covers.

"i need you to know that i won't ever let anything harm you," he says once you settle in his arms, eyes gazing into yours "truly."

"i know." you peck his lips before resting your head on his collarbone, he picks up your "weapon" and flicks through the pages to continue from the last time he stopped.

"erasmus has been dealt with and i hope you're ready for a wedding," just as you began to feel the embers of sleep take a hold of you, you peek your eyes open.

"oh no thomas, what'd you do?"

"don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

you roll your eyes at him once more and huff out a breath of irritation "fine, but if polly ever complains to me about this i'm kicking you out of my house and you'll have no access to my books."

"you like me too much to get rid of me, love."

"i'll be the judge of that." you close your eyes once more and drift off to sleep, but not before you feel a kiss against the top of your head.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy shelby #tommy shelby drabble #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine

[stevebabey]

let the kisses linger

word count: 3.3k summary: Steve Harrington is not your boyfriend, not yet. So far you’ve had a couple sweet kisses and an infuriating amount of dates spent with him making you nervous. Now, you just want to kiss him like you mean it, more than a peck, and maybe ask him to be your boyfriend while you do it. Steve beats you to it, on both counts. [cheeky tiny makeout + gn!reader (but r is mentioned to wear a bikini) + first relationship!reader]

It starts with a touch.

You’ve come to learn it always does with Steve. Fingers skirting along any bare skin he can find, drawing a line on your waist when just a sliver is exposed. Along the ridge of your neck, curling his hand to rest against your shoulder. His fingertips tease at your neck, feather-soft touches that can make you shiver if you’re not expecting it.

You think he does it just to see the goosebumps that trail in the wake of his touch. From the way he always grins, like the cat that got the cream, you’re probably right.

Steve can’t help it. You’re so responsive.

Maybe it’s because it’s new, this thing between you and Steve — you’ve been on a couple dates together after a string of painfully obvious flirtations over the Family Video counter that Robin had been forced to witness. You’ve just not quite sealed the deal yet.

However, even though Steve’s had more girlfriends than he can count on one hand, this part? Never gets old.

The electricity. The dance, the build-up; getting to see how you react when you’re not quite expecting him to be as close and touchy as he is.

He adores all of it. The delightful shudder you give when he slips his fingers into your hair, gifting a soft scratch along your scalp when you two had gotten cozy during a film. Your gloriously warm cheeks give you away even though Steve can read exactly when you’re nervous.

You’re utterly precious to him — and Steve wouldn’t exchange your shy smiles, flushed cheeks, or your nervous little reactions that are all because of him, for anything in the world.

Maybe it’s because you’re new to this.

First date, first time holding hands, first kiss — you’ve given them all to Steve. With the seriousness he takes them all, wholly prepared to blow your expectations out of the water, you feel you can trust them with him.

But even with trust, there’s no quelling the sticky nervousness that runs free beneath your skin when his hands begin to wander.

At first, it made you freeze. Not sure how to relax under hands that just want to hold you, touch you, just cos’ they can.

You think it took, maybe, a whole hour for you to relax and let yourself slump against Steve on your fourth date, curled up together on the couch. You think Steve knew of your nervousness and thanked him silently for his nonchalance at your stiffness. Not one comment was made.

You had relaxed into his side eventually. Steve, of course, had then gone and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you back into his chest and you’d gone straight back to tensed up.

His arms were wound around your middle, hands resting on your tummy and you hadn’t a clue on how you were supposed to be calm about it. You had mentally cursed his pretty hands, and his warm arms, and prayed to whoever was listening to grant you some semblance of strength.

And then, the bastard had leaned down, lips ghosting the shell of your ear, and whispered, “Y’can relax, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the grin, cursing how you tensed up more — and forced yourself to melt against him. His arms tightened, pulling you closer as if this had been his plan all along. Steve’s chuckle wouldn’t have been audible if you hadn’t been so close to him.

Yeah, he definitely knew how nervous he made you.

The difference between then and now? Now, you want his wandering touch. Steve had been so sweet and good in the beginning, a little bit of teasing to watch you blush and squirm, and then he’d back off. Make sure you were actually comfortable.

You’re not sure you’ll shake the nerves with him — it’s just a Steve thing. He’s gorgeous, you’re nervous, the sky is blue, yadda yadda.

But how do you send a different message — tell him that he’s started a hunger in you that’s not quite satisfied with fleeting touches — when all you can do is shiver and blush when he puts his hands on you?

However you do, you need to figure it out, like, stat.

Today, in the blistering swell of summer, it’s getting near unbearable. At the Harrington house, Steve’s invited the party around for a bit of a pool party and you think you might die if you get to see him shirtless for any longer without getting your hands on him.

Steve’s meanly decided to forgo his shirt. It leaves him walking around in only slightly too short swim shorts and a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You get a tasty eyeful of his warm tan skin on display through the patio doors, your eyes tracking each mole on his skin. He’s scooping the pool free of leaves and you honestly feel like this is the start of some shitty porno with you lusting over the pool-boy. You’re fairly sure he knows you’re staring which makes it worse. He’s evil.

The muscles in his back ripple as he cleans, biceps bulging deliciously and you might seriously start drooling at the sight—how did you get him to go out with you, again?

“You’re drooling.”

Beside you in the kitchen, big sunglasses pushing back her fringe, Robin manages to startle you with her silent appearance. You jump just a bit, tearing your eyes away from Steve — you hadn’t heard her approach.

Your hand flies to your mouth, wiping fast. Embarrassment flushes up when you swipe at nothing and Robin cackles at the sight. 

You roll your eyes but it does little to deter the heat in your face.

“I’m just messing with ya,” She nudges her shoulder against yours, her grin looking far too cheeky for your liking. Like she could read into every thought that had just been streaming through your head. You silently hope not.

“I wasn’t- there was no drooling.” You say, the conviction in your voice weakening with each word.

Robin wrinkles her nose. “That was a lie of epic proportions. You so were.”

You pout a bit, embarrassment still shining through. Robin just grins further and adjusts her sunglasses. She heads to the fridge, pulls it open, and plucks out some orange juice, beginning to drink from the bottle.

“No shame.” She says lightly, between a gulp, then reconsiders after a moment, her eyes bright. “Okay, a little shame — you looked ready to jump him right here and now.”

Your face might rival the sun in heat right now.

“But he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?” It comes out a bit gargled from the juice she’s yet to swallow. Boyfriend comes out like bwoyfend. She continues after a swallow. “If anyone’s allowed to ogle, it’d be you, no?”

Uh oh. The B-word. The not-yet official name that you’re not sure you’re allowed to use in reference to Steve just yet.

“Um,” you cough a bit, wondering if you can skirt around the question. Yes some part of you sings, because you really really want him to be. You have to scold yourself for fibbing, even if it’s only in your head. Robin takes another swig, her eyes still on you.

“Not exactly.” You admit sheepishly, a hand coming up to rub the back of your neck. “We haven’t— he hasn’t- it’s not like that. Yet.”

Robin grins as she watches you fumble for words, screwing the cap back on the OJ. She leans her hip against the countertop, casting a glance out the window.

You go to follow her look and then think the better of it, focusing back on Robin. Like you need your blush to get any more fierce.

“Dingus is being stupid. He probably just needs a nudge.” Her eyes spy the thin cherry-red strap of your bikini, peeking out beneath your cotton shirt. “I’m sure that bikini will do the trick.”

She seems to hear herself, her eyes widening a moment later, slipping into a raspy ramble you know well. “Though, it should be said I totally believe Steve likes you for your personality. He’s not like— he wouldn’t just- he’s a multi-faceted man with many many layers!”

It all bursts out a bit frantic, so very Robin. You’re both amused at her insistence that Steve doesn’t just view you as eye-candy and grateful for the way she’s managed to melt off some of your nerves, huffing a small laugh at her dramatics.

“Who is?” Steve asks, voice cutting into the conversation.

You startle a moment, surprised. He’s standing in the doorway that leads out to the pool, both arms stretched above his head to grasp the top of the door frame, leaning into it. You can’t help the way your gaze instantly draws up along his arms, far too fixated on the delicious show of his muscles to properly focus on answering his question.

“Certainly not you, dingus.” Robin comments, already clocking the hazed expression on your face. She recognizes the same absurd flirting face on Steve she’d become far too familiar with at Scoops and takes her cue, orange juice in hand.

“People arrive in like 5 minutes, just remember!” The knowing in her tone makes you consider blushing again, just to be ashamed of how quickly she had read you for filth.

Steve certainly seems to know too. He drops his arms, waltzing in to meet you in the kitchen and you will yourself not to step back when he comes a little closer than expected.

“This is a nice little number,” he murmurs, voice low. His eyes are trained on your shoulder and before you ask what he means, his hand comes up, fingers toying with the strap of your bikini. Where his skin meets yours, fire streaks beneath it, like a connecting point of static electricity.

“You think?” You ask a little breathier than you’re intending. It nearly makes you scrunch your face up in cringe, feeling a familiar glow in your cheeks.

You don’t, only because when Steve nods, teeth scraping his bottom lip for a moment and eyes wandering over your face, he looks a little lovestruck. Like he can’t believe you’re real.

His other hand comes up, both his palms resting on your shoulders and he trails them down your arms lightly, soft touches, til both your hands are in his.

“Come show me out in the sunlight?” He asks, cocking his head back out to the pool. His hands tug you ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but oblige, letting him pull you out, barely holding back your smile as he does.

There’s just something about when he touches you. Steve Harrington is a man all about touch and you’ve been going crazy finding out just how touchy he can get when you’re the one in his heart.

You amble out onto the tiles behind him and squint just a bit at the change in lighting, the bright rays of midday casting down onto the backyard. It’s mildly warm out, balmy, and with just a hint of a breeze that ruffles your shirt for a moment. 

Steve’s feet move nimbly to suddenly redirect you both — walking you both against the side of the house, til your back presses against the wall. You’re just out of view of the sliding doors, and you’d be foolish to think it’s not by design. Come show me out in the sunlight? His words echo in your head, inciting a familiar warmth in your cheeks.

“Steve—?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now if that’s okay,” He breathes, voice suddenly a lot heavier than it had been inside. Like it might actually ache inside if he doesn’t get his lips against your skin — like perhaps your lips held the antidote to a poison that was making his blood sing for your touch.

One of his hands releases your own to travel up, curling along your jaw, fingertips sliding into your hair. His eyes are still drinking in every detail of your face, affection mixed with something darker conveyed across his features.

His fingers caress along your scalp, thumb along your neck, tantalizing touches that you’re sure he’s not even aware he’s doing. But still, he doesn’t kiss you, waiting for a yes. God, he’s sweet.

Especially considering the answer is a huge fat unanimous yes.

It’s been a yes since the moment you saw him today. It’s been a thousand yes’ piling up in the weeks of seeing him, building up from the first time you kissed him and somehow bit his lip and he had only laughed and soothed it against your own.

Your yes has been growing inside you, the desire to kiss him like you mean it and leave him pink in the face and pretty.

It only takes one tiny please falling off your lips for Steve to close the gap, his lips brushing against yours. He kisses you, gentle for a moment - til a hunger overtakes and the kisses quickly turn hot and fast.

There’s urgency coiled up beneath your skin and it bursts to the surface at his kiss, the feeling you’ve been desperately craving. Steve gives you what you want gladly.

His grip in your hair tightens slightly, his kiss turning a little more fierce, and you keen and eagerly return it. His other hand has found your waist, startling a small gasp out of you when his warm palm covers your hip and bring you closer. His lips break away, just enough to take in some air and let you breath a moment, then he dives back in.

Kissing Steve, you’re quickly learning, is pure delirium.

His lips are soft and greedy and he steals kisses as quick as you can give them. There’s a quiet hum in the back of his throat, borderline a groan — and when you remember your hands, moving them from awkwardly hovering at your side to cup his face, fingers delving into his hair, the groan breaks free.

“You,” He pauses his attack of affection, lips still an inch from yours. Your eyes blink open, not aware of when they had closed. Steve’s scanning your face, looking for something, lips already pinker from your kisses. “You good? Not too much f’you?”

Your heart pounds a little faster at his care. His attentive gaze tracks your emotions to make sure he hasn’t pushed you too far, that you’re not overwhelmed by the affection. He’s so fucking nice.

You are overwhelmed, just a bit. It’s impossible not to when Steve kisses the way he does; so sweet, and like he envies anything that’s ever touched your lips. It’s pure passion, in a way you can’t even begin to describe.

The heat under your skin burns hotter. The places he touches you — his fingers in your hair, his hand on your waist, the press of his body against yours — all glow gloriously warm. Steve looks so stupidly hot, you nearly want to whine aloud about how unfair it is.

His chest is heaving a bit, a flush up his neck, his hair tousled from your grip on it. In the buttery sunlight, he’s golden and the same moles you had been staring at not 10 minutes ago look even more divine this close. You want to kiss each one, connect them with a press of your lips, and leave little marks of your own.

You want to devour him; you start and answer his question, with another kiss.

Steve’s surprise is only shown in his parted lips, a small gasp swallowed in the kiss, and you take it as an invitation, a hot swipe of your tongue across his lower lip. You take it between your own, a ghost of a nibble that makes him shudder delightfully beneath you.

Steve kisses back fervently and just when you think you’ve got the rhythm, sighing into his mouth, he pulls back. You make a noise of dissatisfaction and he chuckles lowly at it.

You don’t even get a moment to ask what’s wrong, your eyes still comfortably closed as Steve stays close, pressing his forehead down against yours. In a raspy whisper, just for you, he says, “Be mine?”

Your eyes fly open at that, some pocket of air whooshing out your lungs. He’s watching you intently, caramel eyes that give away his nervousness even if his voice hadn’t wavered. This close, you can see a smattering of freckles that dot his nose and you swear, inside your chest, your heart just sighs. He’s so pretty it hurts.

You’ve only been awed silence for a few seconds before his nose nudges yours, hand on your waist pulling you even closer. Before you can find your words, he asks it again— in between peppering soft kisses up the side of your face. “Be mine, please?”

“You- You wanna be my boyfriend?” You ask, not meaning to sound so disbelieving.

A nervous laugh titters out as you lean in closer instinctively. Your heart feels as though it’s going to beat out of your chest, as wild as a hummingbird’s wings, and it makes you grin— your lips curl up involuntarily, completely unable to help the way you beam.

“Of course,” Steve laughs lightly, nuzzling his nose against yours. Then, because he seems to have a pattern of being awfully repetitive today, his voice turns softer, all sincere when he whispers, “Of course.”

Damn him. Every time you think you’re close to settling those butterflies, to biting back the nerves that make your spine tingle, he swoops in and one-ups himself — does or says something else stupidly romantic so that all you can is grin like a dope.

You’re not proud of the giddy little noise that slips out of you when you nod excitedly, cheeks already starting to ache from how wide your grin is. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to stop smiling enough to kiss him again but Steve doesn’t bother waiting. The next kiss is a bit fumbled, both of you smiling too much to properly kiss but one or two more softens your smiles.

You kiss him hard, remember your hands and tug him close, closer, he’s not close enough — a pleased hum comes from your boyfriend’s throat and even the word in your mind makes you smile too much to keep kissing him.

A sharp rap against the sliding doors makes you whip your head to the side, both you and Steve looking perfectly guilty of being caught in your makeout. Slightly swollen lips, bitten and pink, on the both of you, not to mention the close proximity of the pair of you pressed against the house.

“Ahem,” Robin clears her throat from where she stands, out from the doorway since she had come looking for you. “Guests are arriving if you’d cared to notice.”

Part of you droops, entirely fixated on stealing a thousand kisses from Steve and maybe leaving a few marks of your own. His disappointed huff, barely audible, lets you know Steve is well on the same page as you.

Extracting yourself from his arms, you press him back with your fingertips planted in the middle of his chest. Steve turns back to you, groans aloud like he’s about to complain, and it just furthers your smile into a smirk.

“Plenty of time for that later,” You say, still sounding too giddy to come out as confident as you’re aiming for. Internally, some part of you sings, glad you’re finally confident enough in yourself that you verge from skittish nerves into playful teasing.

Your fingers on his chest twitch, walking up to the line of his collarbones and lingering on the base of his throat. Steve watches you closely, gaze a little hungrier than before, and then he huffs again, playfully slapping your hand away from his chest.

“Oh my god, I’ve created a monster!” He covers his face dramatically and throws his head back, egged on by the laughter that escapes you. The expanse of his throat is bared, hot tan skin that is begging to be littered with love bites. You take the thought and bookmark it, for later.

“C’mon then, boyfriend.” You say, just ‘cos you can. Steve grins. Your chest burns beautifully, in a way you never want to quench.

Besides, you can quell that hunger later. He is your boyfriend now, after all.

#SLAYYYBOOOO this was fun to write #i think i say that with every piece but #I WANNA MAKEOUT POOLSIDE WITH MISTER STEVE HARRINGTON #this was written originally to write a makeout and then it kinda got too long by the time i reached the makeout lmao #oh well #[inserts bernie sanders meme] I Am Once Again Asking Is It Coherent & Does It Flow #i knooooo that i have to write in batches but it always irks me cos im NEVER exactly in the same brain #anyways bleh who cares bout that #actually i do Blease give me Feedback #would u like more of this? more of the angsty stuff? #ruby writes #ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve #harrington #steve x reader #steve x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve imagine #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington oneshot #POSTED AT 11.11 BABEY

[spencersties]

Willing Closeness - S.R.

Gif is by @radioactive-creative-bug

A/N: I was thinking about that "I'm not sharing with reid" room thing from 5×21 this morning and I wanted to write a little drabble but it somehow turned into a whole ass one shot.

Content/Warnings: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, fluff, some angst if you squint and tilt your head to one side

Word count: 840

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you and spencer had gotten along as well as oil and water for the few months that you had known him. neither of you understood why, but for some reason, you just couldn't be in the same room together without getting on each other's nerves. you found him infuriating most of the time, and if his constant quips were any indication, he felt the same way about you.

him getting shot didn't help matters. he was constantly putting himself in unnecessary danger. you just didn't understand how a man with such a high IQ acted so irrationally. you had almost lost your shit when you found out he had travelled without being cleared, it was almost like he wanted to get himself in trouble.

now that he was pretty much healed and back to putting himself on the wrong end of a gun barrel, you were closer to snapping than ever. you got the urge to stand in front of him any time you came face to face with an unsub.

so when night rolled around on a case where the killer seemed to hunt at night and you still hadn't caught them, you were more than ready to do whatever was necessary to make sure spencer didn't do something dumb again. if only to calm your own nerves, of course.

"I'm not sharing with reid again." came morgan's voice, and reid frowned, clearly taking some offence.

garcia quickly called dibs on derek and before you could overthink it, you spoke up, "I'll room with the doctor tonight."

confused looks came from all the members of the team, they were all familiar with you and reid's constant squabbles. however, you didn't spare any of them more than a glance, going to get the key to your room and heading upstairs instead.

but of course, of course, when you got to the room there was only one large bed in the centre of it.

you sighed and dropped your go-bag down onto the floor, running your hand through your hair. this was fine, you and spencer would just have to deal with this like the adults you both were.

a click sounded behind you, and spencer walked into the room. glancing at you and then at the bed, still sporting a look of utter confusion. his mouth opened and closed a few times.

"oh." was the only sound that managed to make it out.

"it's big enough for the both of us."

"okay."

"I'm taking the side next to the window." you expected some sort of disagreement on his part at that.

"okay." was what he responded with instead.

the rest of the night continued in the same unfamiliar manner. with you and spencer getting ready for bed in amicable silence.

after a little while, the lights had finally been shut off and the two of you climbed into the bed.

you turned away from him, grabbing onto one side of the duvet, with him doing the same, which would have usually been fine, but there was only one duvet, and spreading it out like that meant there was a gap through the middle that let the cold in.

"spencer this isn't going to work. We'll both be freezing to death before the morning."

maybe the evening had gotten your hopes up because you were expecting a reasonable response from him, but, naturally, spencer did the opposite of what you thought he would.

he turned so that he was facing your back and wrapped an arm around your front, gently nudging you so you were closer, mumbling something about how this wouldn't be necessary if you weren't such a blanket hog under his breath.

you were too stunned by his willing closeness to answer him.

once spencer seemed to deem that the two of you were near enough, he took his hand away from you. you must have let out some sort of peculiar sound at that because he spoke up again.

"sleep. I'll be fine without your constant hovering for the next eight hours."

"I don't hover." you said, probably not as defensively as you should have.

"sleep." he repeated. and surprisingly, you did. you slept better than you had in ages, not a single concern crossing your mind.

you woke up the next morning with spencer wrapped around you like his life depended on it. His legs were between yours, and his head was buried in your chest while his arms held you in place by the waist.

you absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, still hazy from sleep, before saying his name. he hummed and pulled you tighter to him, burying his head further into you before mumbling, "stay, we can go back to bickering later."

you couldn't argue with that logic and you were going to take full advantage of having spencer where you could see and feel him.

the two of you spent that morning drifting in and out of sleep for as long as you could before having to get up and ready to go meet the team.

request to be on my taglist

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #bau team #criminal minds fic #criminalminds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fandom #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds season 5 #5x21 #vikswriting

[soralinklokidottirofmirkwood]

My little kitten: Yandere Dad Thranduil x child neko reader part3.

Age: 8 reader Chan is now a bit older and sheltered after the nanny incident.

You are in your room sitting at your window seat watching as the snow falls down and the guards patrolled the area.

You continued to look at the snow in an oversized f/c tunic with black leggings and barefooted, your hair being down with a few braids in it to keep your hair out of your face with a few stubborn strands out of place, your ears twitching and tail swaying.

As you’re staring out the window you have no idea about a cruel prank set for you by three Ellons.

You got bored of staring at the snow for so long you instantly wanted your father King Thranduil who never EVER lets you out of the palace without him or a few guards.

You walked out of your room in hopes of him being in the throne room unaware of three ellons holding a huge bucket of Ice cold water from one of the water falls of Mirkwood.

As you continued to walk earning waves, bows, curtsies and “Good after noon your highness.” From passing elves, you can hear your father’s voice from the throne room giving orders, happy you made your way towards the throne room when you shrieked from a cold sensation on your body from the bucket of icy water the three Ellons were carrying earning the attention of the elves who were near the throne room to witness the whole thing and gasp of horror from those elves as they see you standing in the middle of the halls in a puddle near the doors that lead to the throne room, shivering with your arms wrapped around yourself to keep yourself warm with the three Ellons laughing and pointing at you while you shivered until the throne room doors slammed open “What in the Valar is going on out here?” Your father’s voice boomed out in the hall making everyone including the three Ellons freeze in terror.

Thranduil's POV:

I was sitting on my throne bored and giving orders to the guards and drinking dorwinion wine from my favorite goblet when I heard a high pitch and familiar shriek from the halls followed by gasp of horror and laughter.

I bursted out of the room to see everyone frozen in terror but what infuriated me was the sight of my kitten standing in the hall shivering and soaked “What in the Valar Is going on out here?” I asked until I heard my child sneezing and coughing.

I ran up to her and scooped her up into my arms, by the Valar she was freezing, I can feel her shivering as I held her closely towards me “Who is responsible for this!?” I asked in rage making people point at three ellons who looked as pale as the snow outside “They were also laughing at the princess as well my lord.” An elleth with brown hair said in disgust. “Guards! Take them to the dungeons.” I said pointing at the three ellons who began speaking on top of each other but I didn’t care and began walking towards the infirmary with my kitten in my arms who is coughing up a storm “let’s get you to the infirmary little one.” I said to Y/N who is still shivering from the cold and clutching at my robes “What were you doing in the halls little one?” I asked as she buried her head into my chest “I wanted you.” She answered melting my heart.

At your bedroom:

I stood by Y/N's bed side as I see her chest rising and falling through her oversized tunic that I helped her changed into after the healers looked her over to find that she had a bad cold and that she needed rest.

After the check up I took her back to her room and helped her get into dry clothes and stood by her side until she fell asleep.

After seeing her puffy eyelids close and hearing her small snores I smiled and rubbed her little ears earning a soft purr from her making me smile and kiss her warm forehead “Daddy will handle those Ellons.” I say walking out of the room, locked the door and called for my best guards to guard the door “Make sure no one bothers my baby while I deal with those ellons.” I said walking to the dungeons hearing a “Yes sir.” From the guards.

I stand in front of the three ellons who are begging me to spare them “Please my King it was just a prank.” One of them said fearfully “Just a prank!? JUST A PRANK!?” I yelled “You’r lucky it was just a cold.” I said angrily “How ever it doesn’t save you from my wrath.” I said raising my sword to the screaming Ellons.

I smirked down at the ellons who now laid past out from shock the moment I raised my sword with urine running down their trousers “When they wake up tell them they’re banished from Mirkwood for life.” I said putting my sword away and walking out of the dungeon “and get some servants to clean up the mess.” I said continuing my trek out the dungeon towards Y/N’s room.

I sit by my kitten on her bed as she ate her soup.

Once she finished she fell straight asleep again making me smile and kiss her head “Note to self have guards with her at all times when she’s in the halls.” I said to myself as I walked out of the room, closing and locking the door and retreating to my room.

The next day no one’s pov:

Thranduil wakes up to the sound of your personal healer screaming.

Worried he got up and put his robe on and burst into your room to see you throwing up into the toilet of your private bathing chamber with your healer gently patting your back and holding your hair “My poor kitten.” Thranduil said until his butler Galion came “Have my schedule clear for the day.” He said walking back to his room to get dressed.

For the whole day Thranduil stayed with you in your chambers and had the healers brew you an elixir that will help you and he had another one made that will give you immortality early when you’re a bit older.

Once your all better Thranduil immediately told you that there will be six guards with you at all times and that your not allowed to leave your room without them.

#platonic #the hobbit #thranduil #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings #yandere #yandad #dad thranduil #child reader #neko reader #middle earth #yandere father

[kiri-cuts]

The bureaucracy of survival in “Women Talking”

This post references domestic violence and sexual assault. 

In Hideaki Anno’s “Shin Godzilla,” the central threat at the heart of the movie isn’t the boggle eyed kaiju who has risen from the murky depths to wreak havoc on Tokyo. But rather, the inept men in suits who sit around handing off the responsibility of making a big-boy decision regarding the beast. As ol’Zilla makes tiffin out of skyscrapers with his big, beautiful toes, these men talk. And talk. And talk. Decisions are made but not without following proper protocol. The death toll rises as paperwork is stamped according to the correct decorum. 

As Roland Kelts wrote for The Guardian in 2017, the film positions the bottomless bureaucracy as a bigger threat than the monster. Inaction is a killer: “In its portrayal of a people unwilling to speak out or act on their own and a nation paralysed by dependency, [’Shin Godzilla’] piles on heaps of destruction that is almost entirely self-inflicted.” The film crept into my brain during the long stretches of emotional conversation that occupy Sarah Polley’s “Women Talking.” In their own ways, both films revolve around the prolonged process of dealing with unexpected and unwanted invasions from an unrelenting force. They also both rotate around questions concerning what entirely is the correct response for outbursts of violence within spaces that we call our own -- the places where we arrange and follow basic social etiquette for our safety and wellbeing. Where we agree that certain boundaries exist and should be forbidden from being crossed. In both, inaction is a killer. But to respond can be just as fatal.  In “Women Talking,” the titular “women” of the story have experienced repeated physical and sexual assaults and abuse by the hands of the men of their commune. They come up with three options with which to address the violence: Do nothing. Stay and fight. Or leave. As anyone who has experienced domestic violence firsthand can attest, these three options echo continuously around the bureaucratic chamber of your brain as you endure the repeated abuse. It becomes a noise as persistent as a heartbeat. Initially, you do nothing -- you forgive, you accept promises, you move on. In time, you wind up staying and maybe even fighting back. Eventually, you may even feel complicit in the violence for this reason, even when you’re simply trying to regain control over an inexorable situation or defend yourself. In time, you realise that you’re a person unwilling to speak out or act on their own. That you’re paralysed by dependency. And eventually, the destruction that gets piled on feels almost self-inflicted because you’ve repeatedly chosen to stay. You realise in that moment that there’s only ever been one option, and that is to leave. 

As a parable for patriarchal abuses of power, “Women Talking” will be sadly relatable for anyone who has stood in the full force of a man’s unrelenting rage. Be it random acts of violence, interactions with men at work, in social scenarios, or on public transport, or the manipulative blow of domestic abuse, every person who has experienced it knows that it’s infuriating and hurtful to simply do nothing and put it with it. To stay and fight can sometimes leave you vulnerable to an even worse attack. But leaving? Not only does it sever the encounter, but it also takes away the guy’s power.  In “Shin Godzilla,” they realise and achieve this by freezing poor ‘Zilla -- its coagulated claws restricted from crushing another building ever again. Or at least until a particularly bad heat wave hits. 

In “Women Talking,” the gals organise themselves and almost entirely leave their commune. In doing so, you have to wonder what will be left of the community in their absence. What power dynamic is severed when the men don’t have the women there to attack and defile? Fleeing is its own form of coagulated claw, honey. Remove them from the scenario or remove yourself -- just don’t continue to stand in the path of destruction and pretend like it’s fine or that it’ll pass. Removal is survival. 

As Nina Nastasia beautifully put it in the closing embers of her survival album, “Riderless Horse”:  “Oh, how I wanna live.” Talk all you want. Often, it helps. But sometimes there’s only one answer to violence, and it doesn’t require pros and cons lists, debate, fighting back, or negotiation. Freeze out the enemy, remove their power, and leave. Oh, how I wanna live.

#women talking #shin godzilla #riderless horse #hideki anno #domestic violence #survival #film essays #film essay #sarah polley #godzilla

[tossitatthewallandseewhathappens]

Jareth the Jaded Vampire

TW: Blood, Death, Murder, Murder Cover Up, Heroine Use

Miss Dubois’s Funeral Home, an old Victorian style powder blue house located in the French Quarter of New Orleans. There in the basement was Jareth, a tall man with shoulder length red hair and a muscular body, prepping the latest corpse for burial in the middle of the night. He had just removed the last of blood and organs and was about to start pumping formaldehyde when a headache flew through the window. Jareth glared with piercing green eyes at the bat wishing it was on fire screaming in agony while he was roasting marshmallows over it. The bat chuckled, “Your face will freeze like that if you keep it up old friend.”, Jareth just growled in response. The bat turned into a slender man of average height with short sandy brown hair and hazel eyes. “What do want Charles?”, Jareth curtly asked, wanting to get rid of as quickly as possible. Charles looked offended and gasped, “Good sir! How can you say such a thing. Can’t a man visit his friend simply because he wants to without any ulterior motives?”, Jareth glared harder. Charles, now looking a little nervous, cleared his throat and continued, “I merely wanted to know if you would like to grab some lunch with me.”, Jareth glared impossibly harder, irises turning red along the edges. He strode over to Charles with surprising grace, towering over him with ease and crossed his arms in a silent command to start talking.

Charles relented with a sigh finally spilling what his true intentions were, “I may or may not have gotten into some trouble recently which may or may not have attracted the council’s attention.” Jareth didn’t like where this was going, “So I may or may not have to appear in front them and I may or may not have said you would represent me.”, God. Dammit. Jareth rubbed is temples out of frustration because if there’s anything he hates more, it’s dealing with the Vampire Council of Louisiana. Or any of the councils for that matter. He goes to one of the bags of blood he just filled up swings it down like it’s nothing then tiredly replies, “Fine. When is the hearing?”, he turns around to see Charles looking even more guilty. This fucker! Charles finally spoke, “It’s in an hour and a half from now.”, Jareth could feel his eye start to twitch. Luckily the council was located in New Orleans so they had a fair amount of time, but the fact the Charles still waited this long to tell him was infuriating. “Alright come on you dumb bastard! Let’s fly before I change my mind.”, he grumbled before transforming into a bat and flying out the window. Making a mental note to lock it from now on.

Charles caught up to him eventually and was quiet for a bit, but that didn’t last long. He was trying to lighten the mood by droning on and on with small talk though it was falling on deaf ears as Jareth was ignored him. That is until, “-and you and me should go hunting sometime.”, that brought Jareth back, “Wait what?”, he responded. Charles gave him a confused look, “You know, hunting? As in we go out, find some humans, drink them dry as they harmoniously scream for their lives.”, Jareth rolled his eyes. It’s been a while since he felt his actual age, but he was sure feeling it now. Charles is only four hundred years and full of youthful energy, while Jareth is turning a thousand this year making him the oldest vampire in the U.S. and ultimately tired of everyone’s shit. Jareth groused back at Charles, “You know how I feel about hunting. It’s tiring, increasingly difficult thanks to those fucking smart telephones or whatever they’re called, and I have a cushy job where I have easy access to all the blood I want. So why in hell would I bother hunting.”, Charles stared at him like he just escaped an asylum. “For the thrill of it! Why else?”, he said incredulously. Jareth just shook his head, “When you get be age, you’ll grow weary of it same as me. We’re here.”, the arrived at the cemetery where the secret entrance to the council hall was.

Returning to their human form they approached the tomb marked “Vespertilio” or bat in Latin. Wow. So clever. Jareth input the code and the door lifted up to reveal a hidden stair case. It was long and winding chipping away at Jareth’s patience with every step. After what felt like another eternity, the finally reached the reception desk. The man behind the counter looked away from his computer and politely addressed them, “How may I help you sirs?”

“We’re here for the hearing of Charles Duncan.”, replied Jareth and the receptionist began typing away. Once he had confirmed their appointment they headed to the council room, an imposing octagonal room with black marble columns at each corner, black and white checkered marble floors, and towering black marble podiums. Behind the podiums sat the five members of the council doing their best to look intimidating so to command respect. Though they straighten up slightly once they see Jareth enter the room. The head of the council, Cecilia, stands and booms, “The hearing of Charles Duncan will now commence. For the record, we ask who will represent Mr. Duncan in this hearing.”, Jareth takes a step forward and raises his hand, “I, Jareth Blight, will be representing Mr. Duncan.”, Cecilia bows her head in acknowledgment. She then turns to the other council members, “If anyone has any objections to this speak now.”, it’s deathly quiet. “Then Mr. Blight is acknowledged as Mr. Duncan’s representative and we will continue to the issue at hand.”, she sits down as the council person farthest to her left, André, stands. He begins to read from a piece of paper, “We the council have called this hearing of Charles Duncan to discuss an incident that happened last night July twenty fifth twenty twenty two at ten p.m. Where he not only was caught feeding by another human, but also failed to erase the memory of/or kill said human and letting them escape.”, it took all of Jareth’s will not to turn towards Charles and punch him until he died again. Of all the things to be charged with, this was a huge one. All councils across the globe zealously protected the secrecy of vampire existence and society, disposing anything and/or anyone who might threaten that. Charles was in deep shit. André concluded, “In fairness, we will hear the account of events from Mr. Duncan’s perspective.”, Charles sheepishly took a step forward. After clearing his throat he began recounting the events, “I was in an alley in Bourbon Street, finishing up a nice meal, when I saw some blonde man at the end of the alley. I went to give chase, but by the time I reached the street she was gone. I’ve been trying to tracking her down, but have been unsuccessful as tracking isn’t really my forte.”, the council looked unimpressed.

Cecilia stands as André sits down and speaks, “It is clear that Mr. Duncan has broken a most sacred vampirian law and has revealed our existence to a human which further makes our decision easier to award such a crime with the death penalty. That is, unless you Mr. Blight can convince us otherwise.”, a scoff echoes from Cecilia’s immediate right. It’s from Jonathan, a man of medium build and height with short, slick backed light blonde hair, and azure eyes. He’s also Jareth’s self proclaimed rival much to Jareth’s chagrin. Jonathan has never missed an opportunity to try and cut Jareth down, now being no exception. “Is that really necessary dear Cecilia?”, he schmoozes, “Our laws are clear, the penalty is death why delay it?”, he turns to Jareth with a shit-eating grin. Jareth just sighs feeling exhausted and responds, “You’re right. Our laws are clear. Including the one that states that a vampire has at least forty-eight hours to correct their mistake and avoid the death penalty if done so. Or am I wrong?”. Jonathan tenses behind his smile and fails to hide it. The others all nod and murmur in agreement. Jareth continues, “With that being said, I would like to make a proposal. If the honorable council would allow, give me twenty-four hours to find and deal with the man and if I fail, you may execute both me and Charles. How about it?”, everyone was surprised by the proposal but Jonathan, who was no longer trying to hide his displeasure. Jareth knew why he was so upset, because Jareth’s proposition was too good for the council to pass up, especially for him. It would give him the chance to be rid of Jareth once and for all. He would be a fool not to take it and Jareth was banking on that. Cecilia stands once more, “I agree to the terms set by Mr. Blight with the addition that Mr. Duncan stays in council custody until either Mr. Blight succeeds or he fails. Who here seconds the motion?”, André raises his hand. Cecilia bangs her gavel sealing the deal and dismissing everyone.

Jareth turns to leave when Charles grabs his arm, concern covering his face. “I wanted your help, yes, but not for you to put your life on the line.”, he whispered, but Jareth just pulled his hand off and calmly replied, “Believe me. This will be child’s play.”, Charles doesn’t look convinced. Regardless, he let’s Jareth’s arm go and describes the blonde man in further detail. Jareth nods in understanding and walks out of the catacombs. Once he’s outside he takes a deep breath in, letting the night air fill his lungs and let the dusty air from the council room out. He was enjoying his quietude when from nowhere, “You won’t succeed, you know.”, Fuuuuuuck. Yep, it was Jonathan here to poke the bugbear. Again. Jareth just turned to face him politely deadpanned, “Have a nice night Jonathan.”, and walks off. Jonathan wasn’t having it and shouted, aggravated, “Do you just not care that your life is on the line?!”, to which Jareth gave one last response, “I do care about that. It’s you that I don’t give two shits about.”, before transforming into a bat and flying off leaving Jonathan screaming obscenities at him.

_____

Jareth was standing at the highest point in the whole city, concentrating on melding his shadow with all the shadows of New Orleans. Looking through them to find the man Charles described. Thankfully the city was littered with shadows at night and it barely took ten minutes before the man was found. A tall, short haired blonde man with brown eyes wearing a white tank top and tan cargo pants. The man looked flustered talking aggressively on his phone. Wonder what he’s saying, Jareth thought, so he focused slightly harder to also hear the man. “Im telling you, it was a real fucking vampire! Why won’t you believe me!?”, he pauses a moment, “No I’m not high!! I saw a vampire kill someone!! I-hello? Hello? Rrrgh, fucking cops are worthless!”, Ooh can’t be having that now, he snaps to summon a shadow servant. “Go fetch my bag.”, he commands and the servant bows and slinks away. Jareth then uses the shadows as a sort of teleportation point to appear in the man’s apartment.

The man was pacing like a caged animal, too lost in thought to noticed the hulking figure who just appeared in his apartment. Jareth approaches the man with uncharacteristic silence for a vampire his size and the poor bastard never noticed him until it was too late. Jareth was already sucking him dry before he could even yelp and was gone a minute later giving him no time to even struggle. He positioned the corpse to sit upright with a slight lean on the arm rest of the couch, healing the bite marks to leave no trace. The servant appeared with a large tote bag looking cooler, “Perfect timing. You’re dismissed.”, the shadow dissipates and Jareth gets to work. He first grabs some blood bags that match the blood type he tasted, enough to refill a human body. Then he injects small amounts of heroine from the cooler in each bag and shakes each one a little to make sure it’s all mixed well. Once he done, he finds a good vein to inject a needle to start pumping the blood into the body. He reaches into the cooler again to pull out a travel version of the machine used to pump liquids out of corpses at mortuary he engineered. Only this time, he’s pumping liquids back in. Thankfully the noise dampeners work and he’s able to operate quietly and quickly without rousing the neighbors. After the last bag is emptied, he detached the tubing and needle and replaced it with an empty syringe with traces of heroine on it. He laid out the final props; a lighter, a spoon with a burn spot on the back and a belt wrapped tight on the syringed arm. The scene was finally set. Anyone who came in now would assume he died of an overdose with the call to the police furthering the narrative. Jareth packed everything up and slung it across his body before once again fusing with the shadows and leaving without a trace left behind.

He reappeared back at the mortuary, ready to get back to work. He just had one final thing to do. “The task is done. With twenty-three hours to spare, no less.”, he finally addressed the council in their bat forms. “So you can let Charles go now and, more importantly, leave me be.”, the Cecilia bat nodded in agreement and flew off with the others close behind. Though, Jonathan lingered a little bit glaring at him has had hard as he could. Jareth responds by doing a shooing motion with his hands with a dead fish-eyed stare and closed the window. He could hear muffled shouts from the window along the lines of how dare and piece of shit, so he puts in his ear buds and turns on his lo-fi playlist on his Spotify. Once the annoyance was drowned out, he grabbed his clipboard to figure out where he left off, “Alright Mrs. Hammershim,”, he said cheerfully, “let’s finish getting you ready for your big day.”

#original story #original short story #original work #writing #writeblr #vampire #horror #monster

[janshu]

Inu!Bakugo...for @ultimate-astridwriting's Hybrid collab!

Summary: My part of the hybrid collab. I had so much fun writing an angry Pomeranian Bakugo. 10/10 would do again. I'm not completely happy with it but who ever is? I'm still proud of myself!

Word count: 2.2k.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Bakugo being an ass, sexual content, somnophilia, collars, choking, humping, creampie, name calling (bitch, slut, whore etc.), use of the word cunt.

You sigh as you rummage around in your pocket to produce the key to your home. After a long day's work all you want to do is get some dinner, take a bath and go to bed but none of those things would be possible would they?

No, not after the spur of the moment decision to adopt a hybrid of all things. The week earlier was one of torrential downpours and near freezing temperatures, the roads making a slushy substance of half-melted ice and salt to prevent the very thing it was being mixed in with. People stayed indoors the best they could when they weren't at work but life had to shit on you and make your car breakdown in the parking garage. Umbrella rested on your shoulder, rain boots on your feet with your spare in your bag and you trudged through cold, mushy hell back home. The streets were barren as a Walmart on a weekday at 4am, no life passing by you until you crossed an alley between two businesses. A pathetic whimper had caught your attention and your gaze drifted down to a soaked cardboard box. What was in that box you weren't sure if you should curse or love. A hybrid.

Narrow red eyes stared at you in suspicion, fangs bared at you but the creature didn't make any attempts to nip at your fingers when they neared to ruffle the spikey head of hair. The hybrid had leaned into your touch before recoiling away as if you had smacked him. The black and orange collar had seen better days, the charm that dangled on the hollow of his neck read "Dynamite" but he didn't give any indication that was his name when you repeated it outloud. He was barely dressed in anything, a thin t-shirt, shorts with ragged Converse that had more holes than Swiss cheese. Truthfully he looked a few days away from starvation and how could you keep that on your conscience if you left him there? After laying your warm coat over his shoulders you somehow, someway, managed to get him back to your place. Everything went downhill from there in the blink of an eye.

The weak puppy persona was gone the moment warm food settled in his belly and within the hour he acted as if you had crowned him king of the house. Beginning his rambles of curses, demands and biting at your fingers. The worst of it happened when you tried to take his collar off for a new one, one that wasn't frayed and barely hanging on. "Katsuki" as he spat out his name with enough venom to put a Black Mamba to shame had flipped over a coffee table, ripped up every couch cushion and went so far to chew on the linoleum on the kitchen floor.

No doubt you'd be greeted with the same sight as always. Messy, dirty, unknown stains everywhere and dishes still in the sink waiting to be moved to the washer. Maybe if he wasn't such a loud ass you could train him but your frazzled nerves were at their wits end. You didn't know what to do, you were about to throw in the towel and put him up for adoption. Yep, you were disappointed to be proven right. Katsuki reclining on the couch lengthwise, remote in his hand with the most bored expression on his face while idly flipping through channels.

"Fucking finally, you're home! I've been waitin' for fucking hours for your ass to get back! I'm hungry, get your shitty ass in the kitchen and make dinner." He barked. Barely giving you any time to hang up your coat and slip off your shoes before his orders began.

"Katsuki...I can't, not tonight." Could your voice portray anymore pleading? Apparently not because he didn't seem to notice, or care.

The fluffy ear at the top of his head only flicked in response, the top lip curling into his signature snarl. "Then what the fuck are you good for? Get your fucking ass in that god damn kitchen and fucking make dinner already."

All that you were good for? All that you were good for? How dare he! He's been freeloading off you for a week now without so much as a thanks for saving him from the streets, feeding him, clothing him, keeping him warm and dealing with his bullshit and this is how he repays you?

"I've fucking had it with you!" Your voice rose higher than you meant to but at this point you didn't care, a line had been crossed. "You fucking sit there and ruin my shit and yet I'm the useless one? I have half a mind to kick you out! You can make your own fucking dinner, I've had it! I'm done! I can't take this anymore!"

Despite not having any clunky shoes on your feet still managed to resonate in the small living room while you stormed past the couch. You had expected anything, anything at all. A slap, a punch, a groan, literally anything but you were met with only silence and that somehow pissed out off even more. How could silence be so infuriating?! You didn't even notice the terror that washed over his face as you screamed at him or the way his chest heaved with the sob or how he trembled underneath your wrathful gaze as you walked away. The bedroom door slamming made short work of that.

"Fuck I'm such an ass.." You mused to yourself already regretting blowing up at him but what would an apology do that wasn't already broken? So better yet why not send yourself to bed without dinner as some kind of punishment? He'd linger at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at you with those intense eyes if you made dinner anyways so why let him win? He could his own shit for fucks sake!

After a quick shower to dethaw your bones and warm up what was left of your dead soul the softness of your pajamas helped ease the guilt gnawing away like a puppy on its first bone. Laying in bed until sleep eventually overcame you and when he knew it was safe to slip in and sneak over towards your bedside.

Rustling was what woke you. The rustling of clothes and the jingle of something metallic in the darkness of the bedroom. Whatever grogginess you normally suffered when waking up was vanishing the more details were dissected and understood by your half-asleep brain, a process that took an embarrassingly long time. Clothes rustling, the bedsheets moving, heavy pants and something incredibly warm nudging up against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Naturally your brain assumed the worst and your eyelids flew open to show nothing; at first. As your eyes adjusted to the pitch black room they found the blazing stare of those vermillion eyes, the bared fangs that belonged to your hybrid.

What the hell was Katsuki doing on top of you?

Noticing that you were awake the snarl turned into a smirk as he huffed, his large chest expanding with each desperate pant. Why did your folds feel so good just as you were waking up?

"Feel that?" How could you not? The feel of a scorching cock bumping up your folds and sensitive clit, wet from the pre leaking from the tip. There was so much of it from what you could feel, too sticky to be your own. His hips had yet to cease moving, no word from your shocked form to still his rutting hips.

"W-what the hell are you doing?" Was the most logical question your brain could come up with in the moment.

"Humping...fucking dumbass." His warm breath created goosebumps on your cool skin, his head must've been so close to yours by the hair tickling your forehead. "Tryin'ta...help ya. Shitty woman.."

"Help? How the fuck is this helping?"

"You've been working so hard so I thought maybe...a good fuck would calm ya down, relax ya." Katsuki's voice was so desperate, so needy, the humping of his cock on your labia increasing.

He was trying to help? He was going to fuck the frustration out of you? Is that was he was offering? Having sex with a hybrid was common enough to not be considered taboo but you couldn't help but feel he was trying to worm his way into your good graces. Unless your words had struck some kind of cord with him. "Okay, alright, I'll let you help."

"Fuck yeah!"

With that the head of his cock nudged against your cunt, already spread and waiting for him. How long had he been doing this for? The burn of the stretch was delicious, he was just big enough to fill you up but not hurt. Settling right up to kiss the tip of your cervix when he bottomed out. His hands grip at your thigh and hip, pulling his back to slam his cock right back into you. Over and over, over and over, over and over. Practically using you as a fleshlight to get himself off but damn if it didn't feel good, him bouncing you on his cock so roughly each thrust was sending the headboard against the wall.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck, Katsuki!" Your hands pat around and eventually find his biceps and you cling on for dear life, your nails digging crescent shaped markings into his skin.

"Yeah, yeah...you like this form of stress relief, don'tcha you dirty slut?" Undoing the collar around his neck the frayed cloth of the strap is tied around your neck, the buckle clamping down tightly to constrict your airflow while two fingers slip under it to pull and tug. "You're my dirty fucking slut! Mine...mine...mine...mine, fucking mine!"

Your fingers trailed down the tiny amount of space between your bodies down to the precious, neglected nub between your legs. Barely able to wiggle your index and middle finger down there from the rabid fucking you were receiving to circle the bundle of nerves and send yourself over the edge. Each clap of your thighs smacking against each other forcing your hate for his behavior ebbing away. If he was going to act like this all the time how could you kick him out?

"F-fuck! Gonna cum...fucking cum..cum for me. Cum with me!" Katsuki snarled as the pressure around your throat increased. Your hand was smacked away from your clit and was replaced with the large pad of his thumb, frantic circles sending your body into a writhing mess of flails and kicks.

The orgasm that had been steadily building from your ministrations had been ripped away and replaced with one quickly approaching to push you over the edge. The white hot pleasure-coil that formed underneath your belly button snapped and all of it coursed through your system in one go. Paralyzing your body for a split second as you squirted all over the hybrids cock, his still rubbing hand sending the liquid everywhere. Coating his thighs, your thighs and the bed underneath you.

"Fucking fuck! Such a whore, such a dirty girl for me! Oh my fucking g-god!" One last slam of his hips and his own body stilled, burying his cock deep inside your cunt to shoot his cum deep in your womb. He stuttered before his body collapsed on top of you, suffocating you in his sweaty muscles.

Bathing in the afterglow, coming down from your high you could've sworn you heard something. Mumbling, soft mumbling too indistinct to understand. Katsuki's head laying on your shoulder, his nose brushing along your collarbone and was he laying kisses here and there? No, you must've been seeing things. Still buried to the hilt he turned his head to speak, his fluffy ears perked and his tail gently swishing behind him. The sudden light from your phone illuminated the room, casting light on Katsuki's face and the sight made your breath hitch in your throat. Clearly he had been crying. Tear stains streaked down his cheeks, brows knitted together and the same lost look he had plastered on his face appeared again.

"Please, please don't kick me out. I'll do anything, please...please don't abandon me. Not again." His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he hid his face in your neck. Voice breaking, shoulders trembling, the verge of crying all over again quickly approaching.

Your heart broke and you returned the favor by hugging him around the shoulders, a hand carding through his hair to soothe him. Had he been abandoned? Did his previous owners not like him? Was all his aggressiveness some kind of defense mechanism? Was he giving you a reason to kick him out to keep himself from experiencing that kind of pain again? Oh, poor baby. "Never again...just don't destroy things anymore, okay? Help me around the place a little more will ya?"

"Yes." Katsuki snuggled on top of you. Finally believing he had a real home with you, a place where he could belong. "....Master."

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo #inu bakugo #hybrid bakugo #hybrid au #bakugo katsuki x reader #x reader #tw:nsfw #tw:hybrid #tw:humping #tw:creampie #tw:collar #tw:choking #tw:naughty words #tw:name calling #tw:somnophilia

[wizkiddx]

a friendly face

a lil one inspired from seeing the recent interviews abt cherry - yes im a couple days late but am very slow. This is basically stolen and adapted from another of my stories so I don't think there's any bits left over by my dyslexic proof reading isnt that great so apologies!!! very speech heavy so sorry am trying to balance my writing more

Summary: Tom is having a hard time filming Cherry and dealing with the emotional baggage of it, so Harry recruits someone to make everything that little bit better.

tomhollandxreader

fluff and a little angst I guess?

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Harry, Tom and their driver Sian where all sitting in the car having left the set 20 minutes ago, heading back to their accommodation. Or more precisely, Harry and Sian sat in the two front seats- Harry only in the front as to allow Tom to lie down across the three back seats. He was asleep, or at least looked asleep, but Harry knowing his brother so well knew he was just wishing he was. The day had been torturous for Tom, they’d been filming a hospital sequence in which his character was heart broken. The sequence had involved him being thrown onto the floor multiple times, by a heavy handed stunt double who was not nearly as precise as those he’d worked with at ‘marvel’. Furthermore, there was also multiple scenes of him having to properly cry on camera, which although it sounds tame, is one of the hardest things you can ever ask an actor to do. At least, someone who commits half as much as Tom. For him to show that emotion, he had to go back to a place in his life where he didn’t really ever want to venture again. But even then, this character was such a fuck up, he had to do deeper.  He felt completely drained, emotionless and cold. But he couldn’t sleep, not for the guilt he felt for being short with everyone on set- he had never been like that before, he just felt like no one was respecting or understanding what he was going through. So instead he just lay on his side, facing the backs of the leather seats, arms folded in stubbornness- even if he had no idea why.

“Tom?…Tom, I know you’re awake… Look, we need to make a quick stop. You gotta come out.” Harry was actually slightly nervous his brother would just point blank refuse, even if he needed this so bad.

“I just need to get back to the apartment. Please Harry. Can’t we do it tommorrow?” The desperation dripping off Tom’s voice actually pained Harry to listen to. He knew Tom was having a crisis about how he treated everyone today, so chose to ignore his please in favour of some assurance.

“You know everyone understands… They just kept asking me if you were alright?” Harry could see the guilt radiating off Tom. It hurt him to see his big brother like this. 

“Please… I just need to get back” His small voice barely made it to the front of the car, but Harry heard it all. 

“It will take 2 minutes tops, I had a delivery but I need a hand carrying it, come on” Harry spoke as Sian turned on the indicator to pulled up next to the sidewalkpavement; the car slowing to a gentle halt. Tom didn’t reply, instead huffing as he used the head rest of the middle seat to pull himself up. Already out the car, Harry opened the door for him waiting patiently, because Harry knew he would be a hundred times better off in just a few moments. 

“What the hell have you even ordered that’s so big?” Tom sighed while ducking through the door into the cold Cleveland air, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as Harry motioned for him to follow his feet. 

“Oh um don’t know, a good friend sent it actually” Harry tried to hide the grin that was spread over his face from showing in his voice, as he saw a very familiar head of hair running toward them.

“What friend?” Tom looked up sassily toward Harry, shortly questioning who would send Harry a parcel from England that was too big to be delivered or carried by himself. Only then, nearly 5 metres away from Sian in the car, did Tom look up to see where they were. It wasn’t the nearest post office or delivery warehouse - they were at the airport. “Harry what’s going on?” Tom questioned with a low and warning voice, skipping a step or two in order to catch up with his younger brother. 

“We’re collecting her” Harry smiled as he nodded forward. Following his gaze with eyes wide open, Tom turned forward just in time to see Y/h/c  flying over his face as he was engulfed by someones arms. Immediately sensing exactly who this was, Tom did not hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist and push his head into your neck. Smelling the familiar perfume, Tom couldn’t help but scoff, allowing a the jerky breath to leave his lungs as you arched away from the hug, cupping Tom’s face with both her hands. 

“I’ve been reliably informed you could use a friendly face” you smiled, noticing his raw emotions threatening to overtake him, so swiftly pressing just pressing your lips onto his. Seemingly frightened to move, Tom barely reacted to the kiss, so you pushed and deepened into it a little more- till you felt him relaxing against you. With that, you arched away again and smiled massaging his stubbly hair behind his left ear.

“How are you here?” He croaked staring deeply at her, switching between her left and right eye as if that somehow would confirm that this was real, not some cruel dream he was having. 

“Someone somewhere knew you were in need and bought me a plane ticket over… I’m coming home with you on monday” You grinned while  watching Tom’s eyes light up, he leaned in again to your lips instead of replying. 

“Er-cuh-huh” Harry loudly cleared his throat, causing the two to pull away from each other. “Sorry to interrupt, but Sian isn’t really allowed to stop there long sooo” They both nodded, before Tom lunged at his brother, holding him close and whispering thanks too. It was clear this was at least partly Harry’s doing, and he could never thank his brother enough.

“Umm.. as much as I’m enjoying this brotherly love we really do have to get back in the car” Harry awkwardly spoke as he almost pushed Tom off him. 

“Awww my favourite little brother being all mature” You giggled, taking your turn to hug Harry, admittedly a little shorter than Tom’s, but still with lots of gratitude.

“Please get stop loving me and get back into the car!” Harry yelled as he stormed off to Sian, leaving both you and Tom in fits of laughter. Grasping each others hand simultaneously the laughter continued as you followed Harry down the street to the car. 

Seeing you standing there; feeling your arms wrapped round his neck ; hearing your oh so sweet voice had Tom feeling…. Feeling lighter. It was as though your mere presence gave him the strength to carry all the things that were previously weighing him down like a truck. What was extraordinary though, was how it wasn’t just psychological. He literally felt his joints feel looser, he felt his body flood with warmth and he felt his heart calming down. When you’d first been getting close to each you’d had rather the opposite effect. Which was surprising because that was at the point Tom had never felt more confident - he had just returned form a avengers press tour, where naturally everyone had just loved him and played up to his every whim. He had legions of girls, some of them drop dead gorgeous where falling at his feet. And yet, when he met you it was as though he was transported back into his incredibly awkward teenage years. It was infuriating, he knew he could act cool and unbothered and smooth however as soon as you stood informant of his it was like his mind melted, filling it with utter gibberish and garble. In fact, he was plainly floored by you - how kind and pure hearted you were, how respectful and how you found hhis jilted flirting adorable and not to forget how drop dead gorgeous you are. 

It had taken a while and a hell of a lot of opening up, but over time he found the opposite happening. Your presence became something else entirely, not one that would put him on his toes and have his heart racing - more of a comfort. He slept better when you were beside him, his nerves never got the better of him if you were there to cheer him on. He could relax completely without any fear of judgement, any worry at all with you. What you had done is change the definition of something so fudemental and a given in life. You’d changed home from a place to something much more intangible. A person; a feeling; a connection. You were his home.

“Sian are we close?” You asked, turning your attention away from the two brothers annecdotes from filming, realising Sian must’ve been driving for about 30 minutes. 

“Yep just the next right I think” Sian replied gently while turning the wheel as the indicator clicked.

“Where are we going?” Tom asked, looking first at you then pleadingly at Harry- knowing he had more of a chance with his brother. 

“Well” You started and he whipped his head back round “I know it’s late and you’ve been working all day, but you have alater  10 o’clock call time tomorrow instead of 6, so this is the best night to do something. We found a driving range-with heaters” which was a very important factor since Cleveland was bloody freezing “- that we thought you’d like to play a game or two?” The massive smile in response meant you’d hit the nail on the head.

“And soz but I’m crashing the game otherwise- and no offence, but you would win waayyyy toooo easy Tom” Harry butted in and sniggered as he interrupted the lovey-dovey stares. You gasped at that in mock offence, holding your hand over your chest. 

“Oi you, Paddy has been teaching on the Holland boys days out you both missed- I’ll have you know I now am aware that you have to get the ball into the hole, not a goal as previously thought.”

The boys both groaned in unison and Y/n wiggled her eyebrow grinning, elbowing Tom slightly in the side. “Things might have changed since you left you know?”

Yet another thing Tom loved so completely about you, was how effortlessly you had fitted into his family. Honestly, none of the Hollands could imagine life without you anymore - especially Nikki, who had quite literally attempted adopting you so she officially wasnt the only female in the immediate family. Sam used you as an expert taster for all his marvellous culinary creations (even if your judgement was always the same, it was very good); Dom often ended up picking your brains about your work, he found you ‘actual proper’ job as a doctor simply amazing , where all his family had never been especially acadmeically gifted; and Paddy just plain saw you as his older sister. So it was hardly surprising at all that when two of their actual kids flew across the world , you’d been the obvious placeholder. Yes, golf was most definitely your forte - but you were enthusiastic, with a positive (if flightily misguided) give it a go attitude. 

The try-try-and-try-again attitude that never really worked … until Paddy taught you how to hit a clean drive.

“I am not joking, I am asking the lady at the desk there’s no way!” 

“Tom you are the worst looser I have ever met! I didn’t cheat, I’ve just taken up a new hobby”

“There is no way Tom… no way she can get that good” Harry huffed as he ran straight past you to catch up with Tom, making sure that you did see the harsh glare he shot him. The outrage that Y/n had beaten them both at the driving range was way worse than anything you could’ve predicted- now you sort of were wishing you’d let them win. Oh wait…. Of course you weren’t  - this was priceless. Especially their faces when you’d launched your first ball super accurately inn the centre of the second furthest away target. They had reacted as if you had just stripped butt naked, you thought; standing their jaws hanging with a look of almost fear in their eyes.

“You could see the balls land with your own eyes! Practice makes perfect!”

“Thats not fair though! It took you like 8 weeks to be like that?”

“I mean you were obviously just taught by the wrong Holland, Paddy’s a  pretty good teacher!” You smiled as your trio turned the corner and walked through reception, seeing Harry desperate to ask the receptionist but Tom just looking over his shoulder to give a hurt look to at you.

“I’m going to ban you from being closer to my brothers than me”

“I can’t help if he’s cuter then you alright?” You smirked and raised an eyebrow, as Tom stopped in his tracks and turned to face you.

“That’s it… your gonna get it” he spoke in a low voice, with a mischievous look in his eye, abruptly he launched himself at you -  barely having  time to swerve away from him and start a sprint towards the exit, giggling as you took a glance back to see Tom chasing you out, Harry quickly in tow too. 

“Your not allowed to beat me at golf!” In a jokey voice, you heard Tom yell, just as you reached the sleek black 4x4 and hurdling yourself into it. 

“I’m in the car it’s a no fight zone!” You cowered in the corner,back pressed up against the opposite door and  arms crossed to make an ‘x’ sign in front of her body. 

“That is not how it works” Tom and Harry grinned from the open door. As fast as lightning they both vaulted in and started tickling you, making you screech curses at the two of them.

“Alright alright kids, no fighting while I’m driving thats an order.” Sian calmly spoke, trying to hide the laughter from her voice, as the two men retreated and helped to pull you up from the position half on the floor that your squirming had gotten you to. 

“Get off my leg Tom… arghhh… thanks Sian, I’m sorry they’re so moody, I just whipped their asses at golf”

“You’re here to make me feel better right? Not doing a good job so far” Tom’s snide remark meant you scrunched up your nose while plugging her seatbelt in, making sure to jab Tom’s side hard as you did so.

“How did I end up sandwiched in between you two twats then?” You grinned from the middle seat as Harry just rolled his eyes looking out the window, and Tom gave you a loving smile- not able to hide his relief of your presence.

“Think it’s about a 40 minute drive you gotta enjoy” Sian smiled looking at you via the rear view mirror, to which Tom couldn’t quite stifle the yawn that escaped. 

After all he had done much more than the typical 9-5 hours work, and the golfing was an unexpected addition to the already long day. His excitement and just pure joy at having you here had made him forget about It all for a couple of hours - but now his exhaustion was catching up with him with a vengeance. Instinctively you wrapped you arm round Tom and in doing so pulled him into your side. 

“Get some rest huh?” You whispered into his forehead, and all Tom could do was reply with a weary nod, letting his eyes slip close to the constant beat of Ally’s heart. You immediately sensed Tom was properly out of it, and contented yourself looking out his window for a few minutes,  before you felt something heavy briefly whack your other shoulder. Jumping a little at the contact, you looked round to see Harry’s head bobbing side to side in a light slumber. In the midst of worry for Tom, you hadn’t realised the kid had been doing the same long hours as him. Plus dealing with Tom and being Tom’s support, which surely took it out of him. Harry had always been ‘the most important brother’ in your eyes. Just because Tom trusts him so implicitly and completely, they had an understanding only real brothers could get to but also extended far beyond blood. When you’d first been introduced Harry had been colder to you. It wasn’t personal though, he just wanted to be sure on you and your intentions with Tom because as he well knew often when people saw Tom they didn’t just see an opportunity for love. It was an opportunity for a lifestyle, for fame, for relevance. Harry took a while before he trusted you but now you were miles and miles beyond that point. So now, being at a stage with Harry where he was phoning you to come and fly out to save Tom (and him too). It was not to be taken lightly.  Therefore, you gently pressed your hand to Harrys face and pushed him to lean against her other shoulder too- hoping to cure the dark circles under his eyes a little bit too. 

You were quite content for the rest of the journey, feeling warmth radiate through your body as the two men breathed deeply and calmly either side of you. You sort of didn’t want the car journeyer to end - but sure enough it wasn’t long till Sian was pulling into the hotel entrance.

“Get you a girl that can do both, beat yo ass at golf and look after your family” Sian whispered as she handed the phone back to you, after having taken some of your favourite ever photos, the 2 boys asleep on your shoulders while you pulled a variety of different faces. Smiling back at Sian, you then sighed-knowing she had to wake the two up, given their exhaustion you didn’t really want to either. 

“Boys…boys… hey let’s get you both into bed yeh?” You spoke softly, gently raising your shoulders in order to disturb them both. Harry’s head immediately shot up, his eyes puffy and half open, but a sheepish look on his face as he realised how he was sleeping. Just responding with a smile that said it was all okay, before  you turned her attention to Tom- forever stubborn to wake up, at least nothing had changed there. 

“Come on Tom, can’t have you sleeping in the car all night” You pushed again, this time lifting Tom’s head, earning a very deep groan as his eyes slid open and he pushed against the movement. It was at this point Harry slammed the car door shut, making Tom jump out of his skin, you loosing the hope of any serene wakeup call. Rubbing Toms arm, relaxing the tension now present in his body you encouraged him once again. “Come on lets get inside mister” 

His hotel room was exactly what you’d expect for an a-lister and lead actor in a million pound film. Large, modern, squeaky clean and posh. It was almost too big to be filled by one person though, Tom had always found it a bit cold and just not cosy - why he opted to spend the majority of his down time either fast alseep or in somebody else’s company. Both of those also stopped him getting too much in his head - or more accurately in his characters head. Cherry was a weird character and from interviewing all the veterans and lengthy discussion of his past, Tom almost felt as if he had in some small way experienced what Cherry had. Felt what Cherry did. Thought like Cherry did. 

And that was a sure fire way to fuck yourself up.

Now, with you here in his room haphazardly digging through your case, if felt warmer. The cold but brilliant white lights seemed to have softened to a gently warm glow that bounced off your skin and made your figure look almost angelic to Tom. You were his home. 

“What are you waiting for?” You mused while turning away from your (now) inside out suitcase, proudly carrying her pyjamas which you had found hidden at the bottom the whole time- not the most practical packing in the world. All the while Tom sat on his bed, back leaning against the headboard and arm bent behind his head too.

“Just thinking that I need to go through all the scenes for tomorrow” A monotonous tone laced his voice, for he knew he couldn’t spend the night the way he really wanted to, safely wrapped up with you.

“Oh… well let’s go through it together then hey? We will be done in no time; but if you want we can go over them again tomorrow morning.” It was a practical suggestion, a helpful action you could implement - even if you had a feeling Tom wouldn’t just agree. Since his lines clearly weren’t the only thing on his mind this evening. 

“Yeh but everyone on set is already sick of me after today… I can’t be being shit as well as horrid” his voice was small as the memory of how he snapped at some of the extras had him cringing inwardly at himself. He shouldn’t have been that rude, shouldn’t have blurted it out, should of offered a solution rather than just critiquing.

“Hey would you kindly shut it? No one is sick of you, everyone is just ready for christmas and missing their families. Now get changed” Your soft tone turning into an imperative order, as you threw his pyjama bottoms at the him, smashing into his face before falling into his lap.

“Oi” he shouted, but followed instructions and stood up reaching round to pull his hoodie off. Stood shirtless, his side was exposed to the now changed you, the sight making you gasp and clamber over the bed to gently touch Tom’s back. You followed the outline of an impressive patch of bruising, stretching from the bottom edge of his shoulder blade all the way to his hip. 

“Tom, what the hell happened?” Whispering in fear, Tom turned round to face you, seeing your eyes watering up as you kept glancing at his back. He was littered in a variety of purple, yellow and slightly green marks on the whole of his left flank. It looked like a minor crush injury, not something a pampered actor gets after a day of filming infront of tens of people including an onset medic and health and safety risk assessor. 

“What?” Tom asked before turning to the mirror and looking back over his shoulder to see the bruises for himself. He hadn’t expected the ache to look that bad. “oh - I - er… Today the scene, I get smashed to the floor by someone and I kept doing it wrong so we had to do it lots I guess.” He looked away and down at your feet, not being able to meet his girlfriends eyes suddenly. You just nodded, trying to blink back the tears-  he had truly been broken by this role both physically and now mentally- he hadn’t even put a stop to the constant and clearly severe pain. 

“Put your stuff on” your  voice was muted, as you waited for Tom to get prepared. He turned around again and then replaced his trousers and quickly pulled a top on to hide the marks, suddenly embarrassed. In the silence the sound of his clothes dropping to the floor, then of him sitting on the bed again- throwing his legs over so now he mirrored your position - the sounds were pretty defeaning.

“I love you so much….” Barely whispering, you suddenly ripped the duvet out from under you both holding it over you as you swung a leg over Tom so you straddled him, slightly leaning over him and letting the blanket rest on top of your back.In your position you looked down in an almost scary way to his warm brown eyes. Tom swore you were literally reading his thoughts, your intense gaze absolutely crumbling any walls he thought he’d be able to hold up. Pressing a gentle peck to his lips you then whispered onto his lips, letting him feel your words as well as hear them. “ …So that’s why we are going to sleep right now and you can worry about all of that tomorrow”

“Y/n I-“

“Your safe with me.” You were not standing for his nexuses and arguments, as you slid down his body - ending with your head resting on his chest, you legs tangled with his. Once you’re properly rested you’ll learn them ten times faster than what you can now… Before you get ill I am telling you to take a break. I’m not going to let you not. So relax and-….Tom?” Ending with a whisper, you delicately lifted your head off his slowly rising chest to see your broken boyfriend already asleep; lips parted as soft snores crept through the silence. In reality as soon as you’d said that he was safe the exhaustion had completely over taken him. Desperately needing to recharge his batteries, no matter how much he had wanted to stay up and work late it could never really happen - at this point physically impossible.

“Sleep well Tom” she smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek with a sad smile.

///////////////////////////////////////////

The next day rolled around all too quickly, but the morning was much better than any of the past couple of months because you were together. Tom, having had a solid 7 hours of sleep compared to his normal 5, was for once ready for the day. He’d gone through the script with a certain someones help in record time, and now the three were just pulling up at the set. 

“You’ve been awful quiet this car ride…” you grinned as she clasped Tom’s hand across the empty seat, making Harry turn around and give you a warning glance. Oops. In a moment where Tom went to the loo at breakfast, Harry had fully disclosed everything that had happened on set yesterday- especially the  burst of anger. So naturally, Tom was feeling nervous and scared to face everyone. 

“It will be fine I promise… and if not tell them I’m your personal body guard- no one will be rude to you if me and Harry are ready to attack” Tom let out a breathy nervous laugh, only then meeting your eyes.

“ A fly wouldn’t be threatened by you two. Harry would just take a photo while you’d check their pulse or something”

“Errrm” Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he contorted round from the front seat so Tom could see his disapproving look, meanwhile Tom was dodging your affectionate fake-slaps.

“Children we’re here” Sian sighed as she brought the car to a steady halt “and if you could get through the day without killing each other I’d appreciate it, otherwise I’m out of the job”

“Not promising anything when I’ve got these pair to deal with” Tom grinned as he opened the car door, before anyone else could retaliate.You laughed before quickly following suit, joining Tom at the front of the car and interlocking your fingers with Tom’s. Hesitating for a moment Harry took a second before unplugging and leaning for the door handle.

“You see what I mean?” Turning his head to look at Sian “It’s sickening how happy they are.”

“Yeh but your glad about it don’t lie” she grinned, before practically shooing the poor boy out her car.

“But dont tell them!” Shouting in reply, as the car was already pulling out. 

Tom’s body seemed to tense more the closer you walked to the crew tent, you could feel the way he squeezed his shoulders back and his jaw tensed and untensed. There was little you could do apart from squeezing his hand that little bit tighter - further reiterating the fact you would always always be in his corner. Perhaps the most telling about Tom’s own character was how truly guilty he felt for the way he was with the crew. Normally, he was one of the most down to earth actors around - no trace of an ego or superiority complex. It didn’t matter if you were a cleaner or head of a multimillion dollar studio, Tom would pay both the same amount of respect. He always out that completely down to his upbringing and mum and dad, but even that was being humble. He was just a good person to the core, no one saw that more than you either. It’s part of love, you see the good and the bad parts of a person and promise to unashamedly love them all. 

Just before you both had made it into the main tent, Tom was pulled away. “Oh Tom we wanted to talk to you about yesterday!” The familiar voice of Joe Russo called, as he and Anthony  ran up to Tom from his left, giving a little nod of greeting to the actor, before falling in step with him.

“Morning, I-uh I wanted to apologise actually-“Tom was cut off while you hung back off to his right, not wanting to intrude on this conversation.

“No we should. The team were all being slow yesterday, and they were making some hard scenes harder on you. We really appreciate what you are putting yourself through for the sake of the film.”

“But still I acted like a brat and I’m sorry”

“Tom” Anthony spoke up for the first time. He was a man of limited words- but whenever he spoke everyone listened. “ You are one of the best, most-dedicated actors we’ve ever worked with. We’re all overtired, run down and ready for the holidays. You’re missing your family too. It’s already forgotten… So let’s just get on with the movie?” Tom smiled, pressing his lips together to stop their kindness overtaking his emotions. Tom always felt safe with the Russo’s. They’d dealt with him when he really just was a kid actor - overwhelmed and without a clue what was happening. They’d dealt with hiM adjusting to fame and the much bigger part Marvel seemed to want him to play in the future. They trusted him with this, most incredibly complex and also personal film for them. So when they spoke and they said it didn’t matter, Tom was much more likely to agree.  Then proceeded the bro-hugs, as the men all showed they were good with each other. 

“Well lets make a motherfucking movie!” Tom exclaimed once they broke the hug and the brothers laughed at him. “Oh where-d….” He muttered as he looked round before meeting your eyes, still standing rather awkwardly a couple of meters behind them. “ Joe, Anthony you remember Y/n?” Nodding and smiling the brothers beckoned you over; both greeting you with a warm handshake. 

“Good to see you again!” You grinned and the directors responded nodding.

“We didn’t know you were coming! I would’ve made a list of all my doctor question for you.” Joe winked, knowing your pet-peeve was people asking you all their gory body questions as soon as they found out she was a doctor. You didn’t need to know about you dentists acid reflux issue, you didn’t need to know about your granny’s friend’s constipation, and you really really didn’t need to know about an old friends erectile dysfunction.

“Ha ha ha “ You rolled your eyes sarcastically “ and no it was a bit of a spontaneous trip, I just landed last night.” Throughout the whole of the exchange Anthony had taken an aloof stance, just  observing you and Tom. Observing the bright smile Tom gave you, even when you were simply making small talk. The way he looked so much healthier, well rested and just happy, in the space of a single evening.

“I’m glad you’re here” Anthony basically interrupted the conversation, addressing you then immediately turning on his heel towards the set. 

“Uhh right- get to make up we’ll call a cast meeting in a bit” Joe stammered, giving his brother a funny look before addressing Tom “ and we’ll have to have a proper catch up later.” You nodded in response, as Joe turned and did a half jog to catch up with his brother. 

“That was weird!?” You frowned as you looked up at Tom. He explained the encounter in rather simplistic terms.

“That was Anthony.”

The morning was spent with Tom doing what he does best in front of the camera. They were shooting a larger scene for the army section of the movie, with at least 100 actual soldiers as extras, all geared up in full camo outfits. It was impressive, but also gave you a chance to meet Ciara - you’d been dying to meet her since Tom told you what a laugh she was. Fair to say you weren’t disappointed at all, you guys hitting it off instantly and you going as far as giving Ciara some embarrassing Tom stories that she could wind him up with in the future. Of course though, the main attraction was seeing Tom act first hand. Every time it astounded you, even though you knew that face so completely, in all his movies he fully had you believing he was someone else. It was mesmerising and you couldn’t be any prouder. 

“You’re amazing! I seriously forgot how good you are!” You ran over as Joe Russo called cut to the end of the morning shoot. 

“Well er thanks I guess” Tom furrowed his eyebrows as you wrapped him in a hug. He’d just canned a pretty hard scene and everyone was more than ready for a lunch break. You’s been watching from behind the cameras with Harry the whole time, after Tom gave you permission to sit in his special set chair.

“Seriously I’m very…. “ Her speech broken with an impressive yawn “….very proud of you.” In thanks Tom gave you a kiss first to your nose and then lips. 

“I take it someones not adapting to jet lag?” He chuckled as he pulled away and cupped your face in his hands.

“Which I’m totally ashamed about considering I work night shifts… my body clocks supposed to be better than this” Angrily, you vented, frustrated at your own body when all you wanted to do was stays within reaching distance of Tom. Even if Tom had had the best sleep of this whole shoot last night, you’d been to over excited and enthralled just absorbing every little thing about him that you’d missed so much that you’d been wide awake the majority of the night. If you blamed you fatigue on jet lag alone, it would be an impressive lie. 

“Go take a nap in my trailer… Harry can you take her?”

“Yes master” Harry bowed down and wobbled his head sarcastically, making you giggle. 

“At least this way you get a break from him” You grinned to Tom’s brother, which Harry could only agree with. Giving Tom a parting kiss , you followed Harry away from set. It was at this point that Anthony excused himself from the monitors reviewing the footage, and approached Tom.

“Kid… that was great that scene.”

“Thanks mate, means a lot” Getting his directors approval forever reassured Tom, letting him relax his shoulders a bit as he nodded gratefully to Anthony. 

“Well it’s just truth… so your girlfriend, Y/n right?”

“Yeh that’s her” Tom nodded, suddenly a little concerned as to where Anthony was going with this. You had met the Russo’s a number of times, and it never before seemed as though Anthony had an issue with you- at least to Tom’s knowledge.

“Right well um… you know how I don’t really get involved in all this stuff…” Tom nodded, folding his arms apprehensively. “But I just thought I should say that she’s really good for you.” Tom silently breathed a sigh of relief and waited for Anthony to get to the point. “Joe told me you had a rough patch at the beginning of the year so… I don’t know our industry is hard. And harder for you and her in the spotlight… Just seeing you with her today…Don’t be afraid to take the next steps with her…Don’t let her get away.” Tom was stunned to say the least. Anthony is the last person he had ever expected to get relationship advice from. 

“I um yeh… I don’t know I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean we’ve been together for 2 and a bit years, well including the break… she means the world to me-“

“Well don’t waste it”

And that was the end of the conversation. Anthony turned to his trailer to get lunch and Tom just stood, replaying the conversation in his head. Weird to say the least. 

But it did get the cogs turning. It did get Tom really seriously considering his future. Or rather considering your future together.

And that was for certain. It was you and him, always. 

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tomholland #Harry Holland #tom holland x y/n

[chaoticneutralwriter]

GD!Jimin Extras: Golden Hour

As they say, taking a picture lasts longer.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, fluff, romance, angst, slow-burn

word count: 2.2k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

A snapshot of the days before The Storm

A/N: Shout out to @azulamakesmeblank​ because this was partially inspired by this ask! As promised, a fluff chapter before the literal shit storm that’s about to take place in the story (butisitreallywhenyoureadthelastlineofthispromptwhat:’)) I hope you enjoy it! it’s kinda half edited dkfhgha I love you guys as always for your support and patience for this story! 💖💖💖💖

Tags: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​ @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi @definitelynotshady​ @youmaiiwasherebeforeu​ 

You arrive at the front door a little too breathlessly in your haste. It should be embarrassing but blaming your increased pulse on your lack of fitness has your mind and, ironically, your heart resting easier than having to think that you're actually half-nervous and half-excited to see Jimin again.

Even though you literally saw him just yesterday.

You really need to pull yourself together better; you'd rather not have a repeat of pouring tomato sauce all over the counter because your hands got too shaky from Jimin watching you cook dinner (and after you insisted on him not needing to do anything too!)

You take in a fortifying breath, appearing to be squaring up to take the final stand in saving the world instead of simply seeing your boyfriend for what's essentially a stay-in dinner date. You punch in the pass code to the lock pad with practised ease, almost not giving enough time for the beep to chime as you push the door open.

“Jimin?” You call out in greeting once you toe off your shoes and slip on your pair of house slippers. Your eyes scan over the vast living room, spotting the head of raven locks peeking out from the end of the couch. Stepping closer, a smile sneaks its way onto your lips when you realize that he's most likely resting, given his lack of response. Quietly, you step into the kitchen area to set down your bags of grocery on the counter before you make your way to peer over the back of the seat. You're instantly smitten at what you see.

The sun is beginning to make its descent below the horizon, dying the clouds in an ombre of fiery oranges, pinks and reds against the remnants of soft pale blue sky. Thanks to the generous amount of window space the penthouse has, the golden glow easily washes over the interior of the living room and bathes everything with its light; Jimin being no exception.

It cascades over his skin like honey, high-lighting the bridge of his nose, the tops of his cheeks, and the shape of his cupid's bow. It makes his long lashes stand out so delicately and the equally dark strands of hair that falls gently over his forehead. Your fingers itch to sweep them away yet at the same time, you don't dare risk disturbing this sleeping beauty.

So unconsciously, you silently settle yourself on the top of the couch, resting your elbows on the cushion with your head propped up in your hand.

He looks so completely relaxed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped over his stomach. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow, forearms toned and the first few buttons undone to expose a teasing view of his collarbones while black slacks hug his thighs perfectly (as per usual). If someone were to take a picture of him right now and slap on some big fashion name on it, you're pretty sure anyone who would see it would believe it to be a legit advertisement or a cover of a magazine.

Now that the thought has crossed your mind, temptation begins to rear its head. From the beginning, it's a no brainer what you imagine one would do given the opportunity of having a guardian demon that looks like the carbon copy of your favourite idol; do whatever you can to prevent said demon from stepping out into the world and risk slandering the actual person they're parading around as, or indulge in your wildest fantasies now that you have the means.

It's....a rather unique position to be in, with a plethora of mixed feelings to say the least.

After the initial shock of it wore off (which was really just taking three business day to process it all), you've come to the conclusion that this whole thing was, more than anything, weird. Some people might be able to turn a blind eye and though you're grateful that he had decided to look like Park Jimin from BTS, no matter how good of a disguise it was, it still doesn't change the fact that it's not Jimin.

You were grateful, but it made you a little resentful towards him.

With such a stark contrast, it's as if all of the good things you associated with that face had been sullied for something colder and unfeeling. You hated that he had chosen to use someone like Park Jimin – the perfect example of a good human being – to mask his much more sinister nature. You were sure it was part of some sick joke, and it felt...wrong.

Like you've lost part of a safe space in your world to the uglier side of the universe.

So in an attempt to preserve Jimin's good name in your heart, you were adamant in keeping your guardian demon at arms' length, hence why doing something as simple as taking a picture with him was out of the question. Not only would it not be in good faith, you can't begin to imagine what would happen if it got out to the world somehow.

And you succeeded....in the most unexpected way possible.

Maybe it was the deep rooted connection you had for Jimin, but there was always, without a doubt, a part of you that was soft to him. At first it had irked you, however over time, you realized it allowed for you to see another part of him that you wouldn't have otherwise. It made you open up to the idea that....he's not as bad as he seems.

You were afraid of losing a piece to your safe space when really, you ended up gaining an entirely new one instead, one that had become just as important.

So maybe that's why, as the longer you stared at Jimin (who's not Jimin but that doesn't mean he's worth anything less), the more you wanted to preserve this memory of him to keep for yourself. It's selfish you know, but things have changed, you've changed, and this is too good of a chance to pass up.

Your phone is out, hands steady as you pull up the camera and you want to laugh at how the image on your screen does no justice in capturing just how ethereal the sight before you is (of course it doesn't, should you really be surprised?) That doesn't stop your finger from tapping the snap button, because as they say, taking a picture lasts longer. The shot is satisfactory enough, getting him at an angle that show him from the waist up. You wonder if you can get another one, this time a little wider....

Well, you'll never know if you'd ever get the shot because your guardian demon chooses to wake up at that moment, locking piercing eyes with you through the phone. You immediately freeze.

There's a pause on his end before you see him pinpoint exactly what is going and a sly smirk tugs imperceptibly at the corner of his lips. “Cherub....” He greets, the low drawl sultry and irises pools of rich melted chocolate.

You gulp, straightening up while trying to inconspicuously put away your phone, a sheepish grin stretching across your face. “Rest well....?”

Jimin pretends to hum in deep thought, shifting so that he's facing more comfortably towards you. “For a good while yes....until my demon senses started tingling, telling me I was being watched. Should I be mildly concerned that you like watching me sleep?”

You scoff, “I don't always watch you sleep.”

“And you totally weren't snapping stalker photos of me.”

Your jaw drops, affronted but you don't go on to deny the claim. “Hey, calling them stalker photos is a stretch. And I'm just saying this because this was the only time I've ever – oof!”

Without warning, his hand had shot out to grab a hold of one of your wrist hanging over the back and with a strong tug, you fall face first onto his chest, an arm encircling you to keep you in place.

“Whatever you wanna call it, doesn't change that I'm still going to charge you for them.” You hear him playfully chastise above you. When you tilt your head up, you see him quirk an eyebrow at you expectantly. You blink, then roll your eyes, pretending to be inconvenienced by his stinginess, as if you're not ready to give him everything if he so much as breathes a word of it.

“Alright, what do you want?”

Jimin doesn't say anything in response, simply staring at you with those bottomless eyes, a smoulder simmering beneath their surface that it has you drowning in their depths. He watches you, unperturbed by your squirming (actually amuses in it) before you practically hear him purr, “What do you think I want?”

Your heart easily skips a beat (or more) and you're sure he can feel it beating frantically from your chest to his. While you're internally combusting, Jimin remains the picture definition of smug, free arm still propped behind his head the same time the other is wrapped around your waist, your face heating at the way you feel his thumb stroke at the strip of warm skin peeking out thanks to your shirt riding up a bit in the tumble.

He's actually infuriating, you think. Why's he gotta be so damn good at what he does?! You don't think he's even trying. Ugh, get it together, this is nothing new so it's not even a big deal! You can be cool about it too!

Giving yourself a chaotic pep talk apparently is what helps you find the courage to scooch up until you're able to land a chaste peck on the centre of his lips. Before you can fully withdraw, you already see the unimpressed look Jimin is shooting your way.

“I know you can do better than that.”

You puff, chewing on your lower lip into a pout; the deadpan in his voice makes you grumble at being called out, your neck and the tips of your ears burning now. Seeing you so flustered though, Jimin couldn't help but be endeared, then finally decide to ease up on the teasing he's been relentlessly subjecting you to. Slowly, he lowers the arm behind his head to gently take a hold on your chin, bringing your attention back to the adoring smile softening his features.

“Pretty cherub,” He coaxes, “Won't you give a little sweet treat for me?”

It takes everything in you to suppress the small whimper that wanted to jump out from the base of your throat at hearing those words. Whether it's teasing, cocky Jimin or loving, doting Jimin, you really aren't built to handle any of them at all, seemingly defaulting to a blushing mess no matter how hard you try be unfazed. Which is why after a moment of resigning to your fate, accepting that there was no point resisting when your heart and body have already betrayed you, do you close your eyes and give in wholeheartedly.

He welcomes you, carefully lets you mould your lips to his for a proper kiss and you helplessly melt against him. You don't think you can ever get used to the feeling but it's like Jimin doesn't mind one bit, pace unhurried to savour every press like it’s your first. Your mind becomes muddled the longer it goes on, and when you feel the swipe of his tongue, you're nearly gone. But as tempting as it is, you can't get too carried away here – you still have dinner to cook!

You allow yourself a few tantalizing licks before you part with great reluctance. Through hazy eyes you meet Jimin's, the little breath you have hitching from the sight of his swollen, moistened lips and dark brown irises now glowing a muted maroon, on the verge of igniting into full blown desire.

“Can't have you spoiling dinner so early.” You say, then embarrassingly avert your gaze at how your voice comes out raspy and thick.

You miss the way the corner of Jimin's mouth twitch, but catch the mischievous glint that's no doubt from mentioning the word 'dinner'. You put on your best scolding face, smacking his chest lightly in reprimand.

“No.”

“I didn't even say anything.” His incredulous retort is drowned out by the laugh he lets out with it, the sound has you struggling to maintain your 'serious' front.

“You were thinking it.”

“Are you sure it's not you projecting your own thoughts onto me?”

You humphed, about to turn away and get off your personal body pillow but Jimin's hold remains steadfast. He sneaks a quick kiss to your forehead once you settle back down again as a means to placate you, chuckling softly, “Okay, okay, I'll behave.”

You giggle lightly, cheeks pressed into his collarbone as you give an approving hum, cuddling even closer to his person and you both lapse into a comfortable silence, breaths in sync. Outside, the final rays of the setting sun disappears below the city's horizon, taking the warmth of the day along with it.

But you find no lack in that when you're lying here in his embrace, because whereas the sun comes and goes, yours remains unwavering.

#jimin x you #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #bts supernatural au #jimin fanfics #jimin x insert reader #guardian demon!jimin #bts demon au #jimin fics #jimin fic #jimin imagine #park jimin scenarios #park jimin imagines #park jimin fanfics #park jimin fics #park jimin x reader #park jimin x you #park jimin x insert reader #jimin fluff #park jimin fluff #park jimin series

[mandoalorian]

Hi, I was the anon who asked if you could write something because I felt crappy. I didn't mean to put any pressure on you. I was just looking for something short and sweet. I'm having existential anxieties a lot (pandemic hasn't helped) and struggle feeling as if I have a purpose in life. I'm crap at everything I do. I've tried to find comfort in believing that you don't have to have a purpose but it's hard to really believe. I lost my job recently bc of the pandemic and it's been hard finding another.

Any pedro character, although my favourites are Javier, Ezra and Frankie. Don't worry if you can't write anything tonight or don't have time etc. I will be fine and you aren't responsible for any anons that ask you to cheer them up so plz don't pressure yourself. Sorry for asking :/ and being a downer.

Oh my love, this has been in my inbox for a few days now. I’m sorry I’ve only just got round to doing it. Please don’t apologise for being a downer or asking! It’s what I’m here to do :) I hope this helps ease your anxiety and makes you feel better.

Comfort Blanket [Frankie Morales x Reader]

Warnings: mentions of anxiety/descriptions of a panic attack, Frankie is a soft dumb dorky himbo

Rating: PG-13

Your cheeks were painted with your tears, and they glistened under the dull bathroom light. You thanked your lucky stars that this had happened whilst you were home alone. You couldn't deal with having to face Frankie. You knew he'd confront you about this. You knew he wouldn't understand and he'd demand answers. You were always so happy and smiley. Even the guys (Will, Ben and Santiago) said you were such a positive influence on the group. But you were only human, and as you sat against the cold tiled wall, your elbow leaning on the toilet seat, you weren't feeling very positive. You weren't feeling... anything really.

Anxiety had consumed you to the point of sickness, and it was uncalled for. You'd spent hours sobbing, holding your head in your hands and furiously tugging on your hair. It felt like you were choking. The feeling of impending doom swarming your body, drowning you. You couldn't breathe. Your chest felt tight, your vision became hazy and your mouth dried up.

Frankie was just a phone call away. He'd want to know. If you were scared or hurting, he'd want to know. You knew what your boyfriend was like. He loved you so much. But you didn't want to worry him. He'd ask what was wrong and you wouldn't be able to answer him, because you didn't even know yourself. It was pointless burdening him with this. Just for once, you had to be independent. You had to face this alone.

You hadn't even heard the front door lock click open. He'd gotten home early and you were too busy whimpering in the bathroom to hear his usual greeting, "Honey I'm home!"

The words were cheesy, and they often earned a roll of your eyes. But it was yours and Frankie's special thing— and you loved it. Frankie dropped his keys in the bowl kept on the kitchen counter and padded through your small apartment. He was confused when you weren't there to greet him the way you usually were. Sure, he had gotten home from work earlier, but you'd always run into his arms and embrace him the second he walked through the door.

Frankie padded through the living room, down the corridor, thinking you might be in the bedroom. He paused midway when he passed the bathroom, freezing in his footsteps when he overheard your cries.

He stood outside the bathroom. You'd been together for six months and Frankie had never heard you cry before. He didn't know how to approach you. He felt an anger, wanting to know exactly who and what had hurt you. The sobbing stifled for a second and Frankie breathed a sigh of relief. Until you started again. Frankie opened the door.

You looked up at your boyfriend with glazed eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. He wasn't supposed to see you like this. You hid your face in the crook of your elbows with shame, muffling your sobs.

"What's wrong?" He asked hesitantly.

You let out an even louder and infuriated cry when you couldn't answer his question. You shrugged your shoulders helplessly and let your tears soak your clothes as you held your knees to your chest. "I just... I just..." you gasped for air, unable to get any words out. Frankie understood. He knew how you were feeling.

"One sec." he said, holding up a finger before bolting out of the bathroom.

He dived into your shared bedroom, fell to his knees and stretched out his arms to pull out a box that he kept under his bed. It was your bed too, and yet you had no idea he kept it there. It was a relatively small sized cardboard box, messily stuck shut with strong masking tape. He carried the box back into the bathroom and slouched down next to you. He took a deep breath and passed you the box.

"What's this?" you sniffed, letting your fingers curiously trace the tape.

"It's my panic box. Inside this box is everything I need to help me calm down when I'm anxious or upset. Open it." Frankie urged, nudging you playfully. You giggled at his touch and wiped your eyes, trying to regulate your breathing. Frankie wrapped an arm around you and held you close as you peeled away the tape.

Inside the box was an array of things. The first thing you picked out was a soft fluffy blanket. It looked old, slightly rugged, torn in the corners and even sewn up with patchwork. It had a distinct smell too. It wasn't a bad smell. You couldn't describe it. It just smelled like Frankie. You shot him a questioning look.

"This," Frankie said, taking the blanket from you and opening it up. He draped it over you both. "Is my comfort blanket from when I was a kid. It's been with me through everything. Heartbreak, death, even the times when I was upset for no apparent reason... my comfort blanket always seemed to fix things. The least I can do is share it with you." Frankie smiled sheepishly and he noticed the way your eyes sparkled in delight.

"I had no idea you kept a comfort blanket." You confessed with a shaky exhale. You relished the feeling, grabbing a fistful of the material knowing that the blanket was probably not much younger than Frankie. That the blanket had been there for him throughout everything.

"Well, I do," Frankie shrugged. "But uh— don't tell the guys."

You giggled. "Thank you for sharing this with me." you sniffed, immediately beginning to feel so much better.

"Keep digging through the box." Frankie ordered, taking your hand and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

You nodded, reaching back into the box with your free hand. Inside was a scented candle, miscellaneous packets of candy and chocolate, an old teddy bear, and what could only resemble something you kept locked away in your nightstand drawer.

"Frankie!" you gasped, taking the device out of the box and turning to him. Your jaw had dropped and you were trying to contain a smile. "What is this? It looks like a—"

"Don't say it!" Frankie said quickly, snatching the pink device from your hands. He flicked a switch and it started buzzing. You slapped a hand over your mouth in disbelief. "I know what it looks like, okay. But it's a back massager." He pressed two more buttons and demonstrated how it changed speeds and settings.

"Frankie... I don't think—"

"It's a back massager!" Frankie exclaimed defensively, cutting you off. Once again, your dorky himbo boyfriend had you lost for words.

You burst into a fit of giggles as Frankie pressed the vibrating device into the small off your back. "Frankie stop it!" you laughed as he crawled on top of you.

"Feels nice, doesn't it?" He quizzed with a smirk. You squealed as he poked his fingers into your side, tickling you, and only making your laughter grow. You had been smiling so hard, your cheeks began to hurt. You pulled the baseball cap off Frankie's head and tossed it to one side so you could tug on his dark curls. He finally lifted off you and switched the ‘back massager’ off. "I'm glad you're smiling." Frankie admitted, pressing a soft and chaste kiss into your cheek.

"Frankie, I love you so much." You admitted, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. He picked you up, letting the comfort blanket fall to the floor and carried you to the living room. He dropped you on the sofa and tossed you the television control.

"I love you too," he cooed, smoothing out your hair and kissing your forehead. "Why don't we have a movie night, huh? I'll order take-out and bring us a few beers in."

"Okay." you sniffed happily. As you watched Frankie wander into the kitchen, you wondered how you'd ever gotten so lucky.

You knew now that even when you felt like you had to be independent, there was nothing wrong with letting Frankie comfort you. He could make you smile and laugh like nobody else could. He knew the exact way to cheer you up whilst still being considerate and sensitive of your feelings. He loved you so much, and for as long as he was with you, you knew you'd never be alone.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #triple frontier

[tabikato]

Chapter 5 of Deal, small preview:

Well he’s not dumb, he knew real parents didn’t experiment on their kids and then treat them like a goddamn failure but also controlling them to their whim. Animals provided and protected their offspring with immense care too, even going so far as to kill threats to their children. Something he saw in Ethan, something Miranda lacked as she was the threat herself. Knew the way he had been treated was wrong long before but had just become numb to it. He knew but it didn’t make the confusion lessen, watching Ethan in great detail that night with Rose; playing and reading.

It made him feel weird, like thick oil caking up the cogs of his brain, so he interrupted. Until Ethan warned him with the very thing he had come for, dangling it over his head like succulent meat.

He swears he’s getting trained by his dick somehow but doesn’t think Ethan has the foresight to do it purposely.

Which makes everything so much more confusing in how Ethan acts so goddamn human, so absolutely weak when he was strong. That he suddenly went into bursts of sorrow, clinging to Heisenberg with eyes that were seeing something so much more and it scared the shit out of the blonde. Unpredictable and before he was sure the other had hid them from him but now it happens and Heisenberg has no fucking idea what to do with that. He’s an engineer, a mechanic, even go so far as say a scientist and he’s spent his life on anger and hatred and revenge. What the fuck does he know about comforting someone and for a problem that isn’t even there? It annoys the shit out of him, that he can’t just fix this already, that he freezes when Ethan does this and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do but just let it happen.

Telling him to stop doesn’t work, trying to prod him into a different emotional response doesn’t work and the outcomes never make sense either. Sometimes Ethan throws himself on the other, obviously using carnal pleasure to erase whatever hell was ignited in him and then other times he won’t even let Heisenberg near him let alone touch him. Infuriating that the why is always out of reach, the trigger is so unknown and he wants to believe this has something to do with his condition. Infuriating that instead of helping Heisenberg understand, just explain what was happening to his body, give him step by step, Ethan refuses to address it at all. Like this is just another normal thing to happen and maybe it is, what the hell does he know about how humans live? Anytime he ever saw them wail was when they were about to die.

Ethan wasn’t dying though, the tests showed that. No, Ethan was growing. Maybe the growth was hurting him, upending his emotions into near uncontrollable states like the cadou would do. It wasn’t cadou though, had some similar properties but it was so much more than he could imagine.

#Karl Heisenberg #Ethan Winters #Wintersberg #HeisenWinters #Ethan X Karl #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil Village #Tabi writes

[softrozene]

Falling in Love for the First Time

Just a cute idea I had and how I think these three characters would react to falling in love for the first time. I’m soft af right now. :’)

Summary: These characters (Crocodile, Doflamingo, Mihawk) have a moment of realization when they realize they are in love for the first time with Reader.

Crocodile, Donquixote Doflamingo, Dracule Mihawk x Reader (Gender Neutral/Non-Binary)

Warnings: Crocodile and Doflamingo are very creepy tbh so borderline unhealthy possessive thoughts, besides that fluff, grammar errors I’m exhausted and it’s like past midnight for me.

Words: 2004

Crocodile-

Crocodile eyes are growing heavy as he stares down at some pointless paperwork for the Underworld on his ship. It is the price to pay when he must climb back up to the top again doing meaningless work until he can find an opportunity like Alabasta. Though, his anger is slowly increasing from how long he has been up. The urge to just shred the paper with his hook is strong until the doors to office open.

Now the anger is about to be directed to whoever is disturbing him. That is until his eyes land on you. The anger is slowly replaced with a bit of irritation from the relief he feels from seeing you. It makes him feel odd and curious as to why he has been feeling like that whenever he sees you.

You have been a good employee and just someone who listens to all his commands without fail. Much like Mr. 1, Daz Bones. The difference being you have emotion. Daz listens to him like a loyal robot. He is grateful for the mutual respect that drives the relationship but the need for human emotions from others has been piling up, so he has been more grateful for you, the one who openly shows how you are feeling.

He stares at you as you bring in a cup of something warm for him. Your smile is also showing fatigue. You look exhausted and it makes him upset. You and Daz have been working non-stop to try and help him return to a higher position in the Underworld, to show to others that he still has a chance at being an amazing pirate.

“Sorry for disturbing you Crocodile. I noticed you are still up and made you some herbal tea. It should help ease any stress you are feeling,” You say making your way to his desk.

Crocodile hums as his thanks and takes the mug from you. He looks at the contents and the aroma it gives off makes him even more tired, but the tension does leave him for a brief moment. You look like you are about to leave and he is quick to demand otherwise.

“Take a seat. Help me take a quick break,” Crocodile orders.

The smile on your face widens as you sit in a chair in front of his desk. The tiredness on your face slowly goes away as you eagerly fill him in on your day, what you are doing to help him, what you and Daz have come up with, and how you are handling the more rowdier and shadier bigger pirates here in the New World.

Your voice is so soothing to his ears and the tea helps him relax. However, now his fingers itch as he gets the odd urge to touch you. Your hair just looks so soft to him. The way you stare at him as if you truly do care for him too? His heart nearly stops as he realizes what this is.

A dark feeling manifests in him as he takes pride in knowing what is wrong with him. He has fallen in love with you. He laughs interrupting your story and you grow concerned. It makes him laugh more. It makes sense to him now. You were his to begin with ever since you gave your life to his organization and now freely to him.

Words will not do. He will not say or admit. Instead, he will just keep you close as you always have been.  No one but him will be able to have these moments with you. His heart eases at the idea and he apologizes.

“Sorry for startling you (Name). I just had an epiphany. Please do continue. Your voice is so soothing to listen to.”

You do without question, your own expression soft and he smiles at the why. You were his from the beginning and only now has he realized it.

Donquixote Doflamingo-

The anger he feels is too much for him. He does not know how he can handle it. His whole body is fighting off the urge to tear off that person’s head he saw with one of his precious family members. One of the newest members who joined prior to him taking over Dressrosa. So, he has known them for a long time but as of now he has no idea why his anger is possessing his entire being.

His harem, consisting of gorgeous men, women, and people are not pleasing to the eye right now. He is currently with them and they cannot help ease his anger. They are walking on eggshells and he can tell how cautious these beautiful people are in his harem are being and he despises it. It is one of the rare moments for him where he would love to be showered with affection but he fucking hates that idea right now.

He does not want any of their love, their fake love. The vein on his forehead appears to get larger and his harem grows uneasy by the second as he remembers what he had witnessed just earlier. Who were you with and what did he see? He hates remembering it as it plays through his head.

It was a simple scene to most, but he is not most. He knows the person you were with has bad intentions. He took a lovely visit through the island and happen to see you at a restaurant. This would not have bothered him, but he saw you with someone else. You were hugging them. What gives them a right to hug you?

What gives them the right to touch his precious person?

His… Precious person?

Doflamingo’s harem freezes as Doflamingo seems to have gone from a bad mood to one unfathomable. They could not tell what he was feeling but the mood they did felt before gave them all a big concern. They have the right to be as soon as Doflamingo smirks. Then laughs. He is laughing like a maniac.

“Leave me. I realize I need to talk to someone important. Pass a message around the castle and have (Name) brought to me. Tell them it is an emergency,” Doflamingo orders.

Without any hesitation whatsoever, all the people in his harem leave. They do not have any second thoughts but only slight pity if (Name) is being called during one of Doflamingo’s crazed episodes. The sweet person does not deserve the anger they felt earlier.

When they find you and relay the message that it is an emergency you drop everything to go to his room. The worried expression on your face made their hearts melt and they felt bad once again.

“You don’t think he’ll hurt them, do you?” One of the harem members ask.

The others do not know what to think. Usually Doffy-sama is good with the family members and treats them as royalty too but there are times when they question him as if they do not trust him. They only wish that it will not happen to (Name).

As soon as you enter the room Doflamingo feels his anger being soothed. It makes him smile as you approach him, ask what is wrong and what is the emergency. He can’t stop his smile from growing. The look of concern just for him? It’s just as it should be.

“Doffy-sama?” You question.

He snaps out of his thoughts and states, “The emergency is I am not feeling quite like myself today. Your presence is already doing wonders. Say tell me about your day, perhaps about the café you visited with that sketchy person.”

It is no surprise he hops straight to his intention, especially since you are in the family. Jora and his elite officers have taught you well to never disobey him and always trust him. However, the expression on your face is one of slight guilt before complete embarrassment.

“You saw me? I guess that means the surprise is ruined. That was the party planner Jora sent me to talk to. It was my idea, but she knew the person. I wanted to throw a party for you. I thought you deserve a break and all.”

You were throwing a party for him? So sweet. You really are something special. It makes his heart burst as he demands for you to sit by him.

-

Needless to say, the harem is surprised when they find out that their presence in the castle is no longer required.

Dracule Mihawk-

Mihawk’s stare is cold and hard as he tries to stare into the soul of the person challenging him. Of course, this never works. He should be used to it but something about your infuriating presence makes him want to slice you in half but also keep you around. It’s worse than when he has to deal with Shanks.

You are all smiles as if you know you are getting on his last nerve.

“What’s up, Mihawk?”

Yeah… You definitely are. He doesn’t say a word as he starts to walk back to his castle. You follow closely behind him and he ignores the close proximity. He feels the irritation grow when you start to whistle.

“Why are you here?” He finally asks.

Your response surprises him a little bit. “To see you of course. It’s been a while and I heard that Shanks was going to try and meet you so I had to beat him so I can see my favorite person of course.”

He wants to curse at the faster pace his heart decides to take. It makes him uneasy since he has no idea why he is suddenly feeling a bit more anxious with you around. You then bring up challenging him to which he snorts at this.

“I am not challenging you. Our previous challenges have proved that I will remain victorious. It appears you wasted your time. You could’ve showed up with Shanks,” Mihawk states his eyes glancing at you and once again trying to pierce through your soul.

It has no affect as that smile remains on your face and almost makes him smile as well. His lips twitch before settling into the frown that they always are. He’s thinking of ways to entertain you since you had to make it a race between you and Shanks so he doesn’t want you to grow bored here.

As he goes to ask you a question he takes note that you stop walking. He glances at you again and notices that a worried expression is on your face.

“I just realized what a douchey move I made. I’ve been trying to be considerate of others lately but it’s difficult. If I am intruding on you I will leave. I just don’t want you to hate me y’know? I meant it when I said you’re my favorite person,” You say.

He hums as he watches you with that serious gaze. With a sigh, he goes to make a point. “You honestly believe that you are intruding on me? I much prefer your company over Shanks and even then, I still enjoy that fool’s company.”

He waits for a response but when he receives just an unsure look he hesitates. His heart feels like it is going faster as he offers his hand out to you. When you accept it, he finally smiles.

“Come. I’ll open up a bottle of one of my best wines,” He states.

Your eyes widen and you ask, “Really? This is a first.”

He pauses. He quickly recalls every memory and you are correct. This is a first he has ever offered wine not just to you but to anyone. It makes his body warm up even more and a tender feeling to overcome it. If this is what he thinks it is then he will make sure to offer you wine plenty of time in the future.

He’ll be much more nicer to you but only because he believes he may be falling for you.

#my writing #one piece x reader #doflamingo x reader #crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #scenarios #one piece scenarios #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo x reader #one piece crocodile #crocodile #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece

[transmalewife]

I don’t want to bother you if you don’t want to do another SW meta, but if you don’t mind another TCW question: What did you think of Satine as a character? What about her relationship to Obi-Wan, and how it affects his character?

No bother at all, I had a few train rides to fill and I can't seem to make myself write any of my sw thoughts down these days but these asks are drawing them out of me so feel free to keep sending them in, though i can’t promise timely responses.

In short, I'm pretty ambivalent about her. She's nowhere near my favorite character, but I do think she's one of the most solid and important additions to canon tcw made. Maybe that's why I don't think that much about her, she fits the story, she's, even within the narrative, an echo of the past, and she doesn't infuriate me like some characters do, so she sort of just slides off my brain.

I don't ship her with Obi-Wan in the time tcw takes place, so i'm glad thats not what you asked. I am however a hopeless romantic so i do have a soft spot for the idea of a first love coming back into your life. They still love each other, because they learned what love even is together. They also hate each other because first loves never end well. They have more history than they know what to do with, they know exactly how far they can push each other, and will cross the line maliciously, just to get a rise out of the other, to get attention. They both behave like children in the first episodes she's in and i love that so much. It humanises Obi-Wan, and I love how a lot of stuff outside the movies is dedicated to exploring his own attachments and the ways he (doesn't) deal with it, which nicely foreshadows both his own attachment to Anakin letting him ignore all the warning signs, and also how he „taught” anakin to „deal” with it. Speaking of which.

That fucking conversation. That conversation in which obi-wan actually gives anakin an out, tries to get him to open up about padme, even showing vulnerability by admiting to loving satine which honestly for this man is like actual torture, and anakin goes full on parks and rec i have never had sex with anyone, anywhere, she's terrible, face wise monologue, goes shut up she's my friend. In an entirely normal and totally not suspicious way, and obi-wan goes alrighty then that's my parenting done for the week, back to my favorite place: denial. That fucking conversation is the best and worst thing to come out of clone wars. Because it makes everything so much more tragic if anakin had a chance to come clean, if obi-wan knew all along, but kept quiet to protect them. it makes them both so much more culpable, anakin for not talking and obi wan for not pushing. But of course this is clone wars so its done in the stupidest way ever.

But yeah it makes sense he wouldn't snitch on anakin when he'd just seen satine again, and was reminded of his own attachments. So I do appreciate the depth Satine adds to Obi-Wan’s character. Do you see the problem here, though? She is more interesting as a character arc for Obi-Wan than a character in her own right. Not only, there is a lot of interesting things about her story, just mostly. Because outside of Obi-Wan she kinda doesn’t stand for much. Like ok, for example her brand of pacifism is hypocritical and idealistic, and you could read that as an analogy and critique to the jedi’s values. But the story doesn’t bother to pause and point that out when shes calling for help and in the background her royal guard is shooting people to protect her. No, the irony only matters when Obi-Wan freezes up before killing a guy to save her, and i like how it reads less like noble warrior monk reminded of his vows and more like middle aged man ashamed of looking bad in front of his ex, because he doesn’t usually have any problems with this kind of self defense violence.

Women in star wars in general is a really interesting topic, and I do wanna write some meta about all five of them at some point. One thing you have to give them is the female characters, while few, are always extremely well rounded, and more importantly in this case, varied. No two women in star wars are the same, and none of the important ones are sexy lamps (although most of the ones in the background are), which is still tragically rare in the genre. And Satine is absolutely no exception. She is undeniably her own character, with a complete personality, a complex backstory and understandable motivations. It’s just a bit of a shame that this only ever seems to matter as a plot point in Obi-Wan’s story, but that’s something star wars loves doing with its complex and interesting female characters: torturing and killing them to further the tragedy of male characters.

And the thing about satine in particular is, Ok so remember how in that last one i said season 6 went off the rails when it started just regurgitating and reminding the audience of plot points from rots without really thinking through the consequences of idk the council knowing about the chips and the fact dooku put them there and not doing anything about it anyway? I think homage, references etc can be really fun when used well, but they only work as additions to a well plotted story, you can't start with the references and try to build a plot out of them. So whenever I think of Satine I do feel like someone is nudging me and going hey d'you get it? Her name is satine, Its like moulin rouge, she died in his arms there so that's what we're gonna do here. And I have to actively stop myself from rolling my eyes. I mean idk if that was ever officially confirmed as inspiration but come on. Anyway, because of that Satine becomes the opposite of most of tcw, an actually compelling character built on top of a profoundly stupid premise.

But, I’m not gonna say like, every female character that’s a part of a man’s tragic past is useless and sexist. Star wars does overuse that trope, and it especially feels weird paired with how satine does feel pulled out of someone’s ass the day before the script was due (by someone very good at bullshitting essays for great grades, sure, I say this as someone who has dabbled in this art as well, but that faint trace of wallpapering over holes in your reasoning is there.) but, there is an already established at the time female character I would have loved to see furthering obi-wan’s pain in tcw: Siri tachi. I need to finally read some of the books with her, bc the little i know is from legends wookiepedia articles, but she would have been the perfect character to explore the order’s fucked up views on attachment. I get that the jedi/politician parallel between anidala and obitine was important, but it does get repetitive after a while when the narrative keeps putting other jedi in very similar situations as anakin and going ‘see? This is what a well adjusted person would have done. Murder is bad!’ like. Yeah we know murder is bad. Maybe let’s explore why Anakin did so much of it anyway. slavery, right? Oh ok cool the council sent him on a mission to save a hutt’s baby, even though he was owned by a hutt when he was a fucking baby. Oh this time he has to pretend to be a slaver and sell his own padawan. Cool.

And I have mixed feelings of tcw’s treatment of the attachment thing, bc at times it seems to be more consciously and in its trademark very obvious way exploring how yeah maybe ‘love is bad’ is not gonna make for stable people (I KNOW i’m oversimplifying it’s 1 am leave me alone), but at times it does seem to lean hard into look anakin is bad because he’s in love. Here’s obi wan also in love but he’s normal about it like a good jedi. And i think siri in tcw would have been a great way to specifically explore the issues with the code’s rules on attachment, and not just the conflict of interest of a neutral detached knight in secret forbidden love with a planetary ruler, but without all the murder, see anakin, this is how you should deal with it. This is totally fine.

Anyway i’m gonna leave you with the last line of siri’s canon wookiepedia article that i think about every time i see someone saying there was nothing wrong with the code. I actually recommend the whole article it’s just one paragraph but very… poignant

“Kenobi then said that he only had to think about touching hands with Tachi at the Temple to think that he had deserved punishment from the Jedi Council.”

#star wars meta #star wars #satine kryze #mine. #ask #anon

[akaluan]

Erich/Kisuke/Alexis: Soulmate AU + Character in Peril Part 20

The world is quiet when Erich swims back to awareness: no gunfire, no shouting, no noise, just quiet-safety-peace.

(Quincy wards hum in the back of his mind, protection-reassurance-warmth.)

(He’s home.)

(He home, he’s home, he home!)

Erich takes a careful, shallow breath, braced for pain, but— it doesn’t come. Just a slight tugging at his side, more like fresh scar instead of fresh wound, but that’s… that doesn’t… Degurechaff isn’t a healer and neither is Alexis—

But Urahara is, he remembers abruptly.

(If Urahara has healed him once again, after all the suspicion, all the fear…)

Erich grimaces. Tries to lift his hand—

Realizes that there’s someone at his side. Someone holding his hand, their grip tight-desperate-unwavering even though their breathing is the quiet-even-calm of sleep.

He tilts his head towards the other, slowly prying his eyes open—

Stares blankly at the mop of flaxen hair that meets his gaze. Wonders what he should feel, wonders if it should be a surprise that it’s Urahara asleep at his side, holding his hand as if the moment he lets go, Erich will disappear.  

Erich contemplates Urahara for a long moment, debating nudging the man awake, then sighs softly and lets his eyes drift closed again.

(He’s too tired to deal with this right now.)

(He’ll just… rest a bit more.)

(Just a few more minutes…)

\\\

“—to you in time,” Alexis is saying the next time Erich drifts awake; she sounds tired but confident, without any indication of worry that he can sense, and it’s… it’s good to hear. Good to sense.

(They’re safe.)

(They’re all safe, and Urahara is here, which means Alexis has done what he’d been dreading and oh, he’s going to need to apologize for that, for getting injured, for failing her, but for now… for now they’re all safe.)

“Mmm, but until then…” Urahara murmurs, his words trailing off with a quiet sigh as his hand tightens slightly around Erich’s and his presence shades towards doubt-worry-exhaustion. When Erich squeezes Urahara’s hand in return, the man freezes then swiftly leans in and asks, “Rerugen-san? Awake?”

Erich hums in agreement and reaches up to rub the grit from his eyes, trying to force his brain back into gear after… however long he’s been asleep. “S’matter,” he asks in concern, then wrinkles his nose and tries to clear his throat, annoyed at how rough his voice sounds.

“Ah, no, nothing—”

“The Clan is torn between ignoring him, being afraid of him, and wanting him to leave,” Alexis cuts in before Urahara can continue deflecting. When Erich turns his head enough to give her a questioning look, she snorts and shakes her head. “No one’s done anything— he saved your life, after all, and everyone could sense that, so it’s making things difficult for the hardliners to stir sentiment against him, but everyone’s… a little jumpy.”

Erich grimaces, knowing that ‘a little jumpy’ is likely to be an understatement, and wonders what — if anything — he can do about it.

(Very little, probably.)

(Damn.)

Discarding that line of thought for the moment, he carefully begins to push himself up, mindful of any lingering soreness or aches. Urahara even reaches out to help, his free hand settling between Erich’s shoulder-blades as a brace. His touch lingers as Erich settles, warm-steady-gentle in a way that Erich… finds he doesn’t particularly mind. The change is… odd, but at the same time…

(Power sheltering him, healing him, echoing trust-home-loyalty as it does.)

…at the same time, maybe it isn’t such a surprise.

Erich gives Urahara a thoughtful look, wondering at the emotions he sensed, then sets his curiosity aside for the moment, inclines his head and says, “Thank you.”

Urahara starts and drops his hand away from Erich’s back. “I… it… don’t, uhm…” he swallows and ducks his head, switching to Akitsugo to say, “I should have been at your side instead of leaping ahead. I’m sorry, Rerugen-san, because of me—”

“Stop,” Erich orders with a frown, disliking the twisting snarl of guilt-discomfort-regret that he can sense from Urahara. “Has Degurechaff been snapping at you?” he asks, wondering if this is just the result of Urahara’s own self-worth issues or if Degurechaff has made things worse.

(He wouldn’t put it entirely past her, either accidentally or on purpose.)

(Sometimes she can sound significantly harsher than she is, and Urahara won’t know how to differentiate those times.)

Urahara hesitates, clearly debating his next words, before lightly squeezing Erich’s hand and saying, “Degurechaff-san has said nothing more than the truth,” with careful, solicitous blandness.

“You are not responsible for me getting injured,” Erich snaps, infuriated by the very thought; he hopes Degurechaff hasn’t actually blamed Urahara for what happened — as much as she seems to despise Urahara, she’s not often given to blatant lies — but if she has…

(No, he shouldn’t jump to conclusions.)

(Until he knows exactly what she’s said to Urahara, he can’t assume anything.)

(Not with how Urahara has reacted to other things that have happened.)

“Erich…?” Alexis prompts as she steps closer, settling on the edge of the bed and looking between the two of them in concern. “Is there something I can help with?”

“Just a misunderstanding about fault,” Erich replies, then makes a pleased noise as Alexis hands him first his glasses and then a glass of water. He puts his glasses on, then takes the water glass and takes a sip, using that moment to put his thoughts back in order; there’s nothing to be done about Urahara except to be patient and reassuring — he knows exactly how pervasive thoughts like that can be, after all — but there are other things he can — should! — be handling, now that he’s awake. “How long have I been out, and how are my men?”

Alexis sighs and shares a commiserating look with Urahara — and when did the two of them form an understanding like that? Surely he wasn’t out that long! — before she says, “About two days, give or take. I’ve gotten most of your men squared away in the hidden caverns, and our healers have begun doing their rounds; you might lose a few more of your worst injured, but Kai seems to think the rest will survive and make a full, or mostly full, recovery.”

He breathes a sigh of relief at her words, pleased that at least something is going right. On the other hand… “Two days?” he asks with a touch of disbelief. “Did I really… that seems a bit excessive.”

Alexis arches an eyebrow at him, then pointedly jabs her finger against the new scar down his side, making him twitch away. “Does it now,” she drawls, expression warming as she flicks a glance at Urahara when the man snickers. “I have no idea why you’d think that.”

“Two days, Lexi! That isn’t just— I’m healed, surely I didn’t need two days of rest!”

“No, you need significantly more than that, but we couldn’t get away with longer, not yet,” Alexis retorts with a scowl, then sighs softly when Urahara reaches out with his free hand to brush against her arm. She moves to catch Urahara’s hand in hers, linking their fingers together, and murmurs, “Thank you, Urahara.”

“Welcome,” Urahara murmurs back, head ducked a bit and color dusting his cheeks, then slants a careful, wary look at Erich as if waiting for a reprimand.

Not that Erich is interested in reprimanding his two soulmates for getting along; he regrets that the cause is likely their shared worry for him, but… but at least something good came of the whole mess.

(He’ll take what few shreds of hope he can get, after everything he’s survived so far.)

(He’s learned that lesson far too well.)

When the wary look in Urahara’s eyes only grows when Erich doesn’t immediately react, Erich clicks his tongue and prods warmth-understanding-thankfulness at Urahara through their connection, pleased at the way Urahara blushes and starts to relax in response.

“I would have appreciated being awake for our arrival and the fallout of our decisions, but what’s done is done,” Erich tells them dryly once the danger is past, making sure to keep acceptance-understanding-warmth towards the surface to prevent another misunderstanding. “Everything seems to have worked out, at least.”

“You… needed sleep,” Urahara says a touch awkwardly, blush beginning to fade again. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, then carefully adds, “Degurechaff-san… woke. When you fell. Her strength was… too much, with no warning.”

Erich purses his lips and tips his chin down, dredging through his hazy, scattered memories, but… he can’t remember much past the start of the ambush, the blazing agony of his wound, and hazy sense-memories of Urahara’s power sinking into his body.

It’s not much of a surprise — battles are always a bit of blur, especially if he’s been wounded during them — but he still despises how fallible memory can be.

“Even our Clan felt her fully awaken her powers, over a day’s march away,” Alexis tells him, a tiny, crooked smile on her face. “It was strong enough that she drove no few of your men to their knees under her fury, back where I was waiting with them. She is much stronger than I expected.”

Erich stares at her blankly, unable to process the idea of Degurechaff being strong enough to send a division to its knees when she wasn’t even standing in front of them.

(He did this.)

(He created this… this monster with his poorly thought decisions!)

(This is his fault—)

Pain sparks in the palm of one hand, snapping him from his thoughts, and he casts a wide-eyed look at Urahara.

“She was on the cusp of waking for as long as I was following you,” Urahara says firmly, before Erich can gather his scattered thoughts. “The timing was regrettable, but it would have happened eventually.”

“I started her awakening—”

“For as long as I was following you,” Urahara repeats with a frown, leaning in a bit as he does. “Rerugen-san, I sensed the moment you let your strength free, and while it did help her become aware of her powers, they were there before you did that.”

“I showed her—”

Urahara snorts, freezes briefly as his mind catches up with his actions, then swallows and carefully says, “Rerugen-san, she might have known how to weaponize it because of you, but an outpouring of strength like that is one of the first things people tend to do. It’s a natural reaction to suddenly grasping at power they don’t know how to control. I don’t know if it happens differently amongst the Quincy, but even Shinigami tend to do it when we reach a new stage of our abilities.”

Erich inclines his head slightly in grudging acceptance; he doesn’t know if he entirely believes the man about it not being his fault, but he’ll admit that he’s unfamiliar with how regular humans awaken to their spiritual powers. It sounds logical enough, but Quincy don’t (usually) have such difficulty, since they’re often born with spiritual reserves that slowly grow as they do. Desperation can cause something similar, but even then…

Well, he supposes it doesn’t matter.

Whether he’s at fault or not, it doesn’t change the fact that it happened, and that the fallout is now his responsibility.

“I’ve been giving her more focused lessons, now that your men are squared away and there’s less for her to do,” Alexis says before Erich can ask. “She’s a gifted student, though it’s probably best if she masters the basics before trying anything more advanced.”

“Given what you’ve said happened, control is probably a good emphasis for now,” Erich agrees with a wry smile, then gently pulls his hands free from Alexis and Urahara’s grips and nudges the two back a bit. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?” he asks as he shifts to the edge of the bed and sets his feet on the floor, then repeats the question in Akitsugo just to make sure Urahara understands it.

“No for me,” Urahara answers with a small shake of his head.

Alexis hums slightly and taps something at her hip, drawing Erich’s attention to where Benihime is bound to Alexis’ belt. “If the two of you aren’t bothered, I’ll keep hold of her for the moment,” she says, looking between them. “At least until Erich’s been pronounced healthy by Kai.”

“Ah, it’s… good,” Urahara pauses, considers that, then corrects with, “Fine?” before shrugging awkwardly and rubbing at the back of his neck. “Benihime is… uhm…” He frowns, then turns to Erich and says in Akitsugo, “Benihime’s starting to like both of you a bit, so… either of you can carry her, at least, uhm… at least as long as you don’t separate us by too much, or try to attack me or… or things like that.”

“So regular common sense limits,” Erich replies with a touch of amusement, then asks, “How far is too far?”

Urahara blinks at him in surprise. “Uh— she’s gotten a bit antsy during the times when Alexis was in the caves with your men and I was here with you, so probably not much further away than that?”

Erich considers the distance between the cavern shelters and the main house, then nods and tells Alexis, “Urahara says that Benihime will be fine with either of us, so long as we remember common sense and don’t go much further from him than the caverns are from here.”

“I could sense a bit of her unease when we were there,” she agrees. “It’s why I’ve had Briar and Ilsa take over moving our people into the remaining shelters and divvying up supplies.”

“How’s that going?”

“We’re going to need to ration a bit more than we were doing, but we should be fine for a few months, especially if we keep sending foragers out,” Alexis answers as she stands up and offers her hand to him. “Come on, I’ll give you the full report over a meal.”

Erich rolls his eyes at her, pointedly hands her the almost empty water glass instead of taking her hand, and then stands on his own; he doesn’t need to be babied, especially after being fully healed and then being made to sleep for most of two days.

(The soft, breathy laughter his actions startle out of Urahara is a very nice bonus, though.)

“There had better be tea,” Erich says with a playful huff, even as he gestures for Urahara to follow.

“I’ll make sure there’s an entire pot just for you,” Alexis promises with a warm smile.

Erich gives her the exasperated look that deserves, but he can’t — and won’t — mask the warmth-care-love that bubbles up in response. He’s missed her, and this, and even if the war is still grinding on, still grinding down, he’s done. He’s done. He’s done what little he can do, saved the men who look to him, and now the only thing he can do is take shelter and wait for the outcome.

It’s more of a relief than he expected, if he’s being honest.

He still has his duties but… not as many. Not as complicated.

He can just… be a Clan head again.

And maybe, just maybe, he can build something lasting with both his soulmates.

He thinks… he thinks he’d like that.

He thinks he’d like that a lot.

#soulmate au #and this is the official end of the main bit of story #i may or may not come back to do epilogues but for now I think i'm calling this here

[tears-and-lilies]

I wrote more of that prince story. It’s easy and I’m stuck in Glorien’s story. Here’s a link to the previous drabble, because I don’t have a masterlist for this yet.

Tag: @getyourwhumphere @milk-carton-whump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @unicornscotty @starnight-whump @cupcakes-and-pain @abitefullofeverything thank you all for the positive responses💖

CW: nudity (non sexual), showered with cold water, fever, collar, chain, dehumanization, belittling talk

He was sitting on the floor of some bathroom. He wasn’t even sure where he was. He guessed this was one of the fortresses at the border. How far away from his own army? If he escaped, would people help him or bring him back here? His head stung, he was so dizzy.

At least the general had kept his promise. The wound in his arm got taken care of, and a bandage was wrapped around his bicep. But other than that, the man treated him like an animal. He pulled the chain attached to the collar around his neck to get him to follow, had servants pull and tear off his clothes, and shove him to the cold ground of this bathroom. He was cleaned. “Cleaned”, meaning they poured buckets of ice cold water onto him.

The general circled him, the chain still in his hand. The prince stared at the ground. This man wasn’t worth his gaze. Even when he crouched down in front of him, he didn’t look up.

‘Was the water cold enough for you? My physician was worried about your fever.’

That mocking tone in the man’s left a sour taste in his mouth. He hated how close this man was. He was too aware of his own nakedness, his body shivering uncontrollably.

‘I asked a question.’

He growled. ‘Why would I answer someone who’s lesser than the dirt you washed off me?! You’re treating me like an animal, when I’m the prince of Helvinia, heir to the throne.’

‘You don’t get it, do you?’, the general said. He pulled the chain closer, earning a soft yelp from the prince. ‘You lost. Get that into your little skull. You lost and now you belong to me. My little prisoner.’

He snorted and finally looked the man in the eyes. ‘You can’t hold me here forever. My father will send more men to free me, and if not he will pay enough money to get me back.’

‘I don’t want money’, the general laughed. ‘What would I do with all that money when I can get recognition from my king?’

He didn’t know what he meant, and his confusion seemed to be entertaining to his captor.

‘And if I’m treating you like an animal, I’m being generous. You’ll be nothing more than a pet to train to me’, he said with a smirk.

The prince’s heart stopped. ‘You- you want to give me to your ruler as a pet?’

‘Finally you’re following. You’re slow for a prince.’

‘You can’t do that!’

‘And why’s that?’

His face turned red. This man was the most infuriating person he ever had to deal with. ‘Because I won’t be all submissive to the man who killed thousands of my people’, he spat.

The general pulled the chain even closer, until their faces almost touched.

‘You will be when I’m done with you.’

He suddenly released, and the prince grunted as he managed to stop himself from falling onto his back just in time.

‘You’ll regret everything you’ve done to me and my men.’ The general stood up and turned towards one of the servants, who duck from his stern look.

‘Give him one more bucket. He’s still filthy.’

The sudden downpour of yet more freezing water made the prince gasp and flinch away. His tormentor pulled the chain to keep him in place, making him wheeze for air. His hands instinctively clawed at the collar to try and get some relief. A roaring laugh filled the bathroom. He felt sick.

#whump #medieval whump #royal whump #captivity #collar #chain #fever #cold water #nudity cw #my writing #oc #names?? idk #seems like the prince will be defiant #that means i can break him yay #dehumanization cw