#pale jelly roll

[kcdrummergirl]

Jelly roll… and I’m not talking about the singer.

#my photos #photography #adventure #exploring #minnesota #kcdrummergirl #outdoors #hiking #Mushroom #fungi #fungus #pale #pale jelly roll #jelly roll #fort snelling #fort snelling state park #state park #fort snelling sp #jelly fungus #jelly fungi #white #white fungus #Jelly

[tonyspank]

FIRST PLACE

Summary: You and your fellow cast mates play Spill Your Guts or Fill Your guts with James Corden.

Warnings: kissing, gross food and yea

"Hello, everyone!" James Corden announces to the crowd. "Here we have a wheel of all of the food you may or may not eat." You, Jenna, and Mason look at the wheel as James continues, "We've got cow blood & pork tongue jelly. Our lovely favorited, the bull penis."

The crowd laughs. Jenna quickly looks away, her face turning pale. Mason shakes his head as his eyes widen with shock while you laugh. James notices their reactions and grins, "We also have bird saliva, bug trifle, jellyfish, a giant water scorpion, and many other items."

You, Jenna, and Mason look at the foods placed in front of you with disgust. James smiles proudly, marveling at the wheel of food. He giggles, looking around at the three of you before announcing, "Welcome to the world of exotic cuisine!" Jenna let out a groan, Mason playfully rolled his eyes, and you just shook your head. You all had no idea what you were in for.

"Is that whipped cream?" You ask your host, pointing at the 'bug trifle'. James grinned. "No, that's not whipped cream. It's a special blend of cream cheese and grasshopper larvae." Your mouth drops open. You stare at the trifle in horror. "Uhh... I think I'm going to pass on that one."

"Just because you said that, I'll make sure to pass it on your turn." You smile gratefully as Mason shakes his head in disagreement, "That's totally unfair!" Mason looks at you and says, "I hope he replaces your bug trifle with the cow and pork jelly." You laugh and shake your head. " I think I'd rather take my chances with the bug trifle!" You and Mason laugh and Jenna joins in, finding the sound contagious.

"Y/N!" The crowd roars at the mention of your name, and you grimace. "This question is for you." James looks at you, holding the card in his hand. "But before we get into that, we'll have to choose your dish."

James looks at you, holding the card in his hand. "But before we get into that, we'll have to choose your dish." You take a deep breath and give a nod. You can feel the anticipation of the crowd, "I choose... bird saliva!" James picks, a playful grin on his face.

"That's not too bad," says Jenna, who is sitting next to you. "Let's see." James fully lifts the card. "Y/N! Who is the worst celebrity you've ever had to interact with?" Jenna Mason, and James turn to you expectantly.

You smile, "Umm... Wow! I'm really on the spot here." You could think of millions of names, but did you really wanna go through with the gossip? You look at the bird saliva that's now been spun in front of you, and then back at James.

Mason speaks up with a smile on his face, "Just say her." He jokes, pointing at the brunette beside you. Jenna's mouth widens in shock. You just laugh, and everyone joined in. "You got me, Mason. It's Jenna." You joke, turning to her and giving her a smile. After thinking about it, you can't do it. You lift the glass and indeed take a sip of the bird salvia.

Jenna grins and shakes her head, amused. Mason's face lights up as he cheers. James laughs as you swallow the liquid, gulping down the water right after. "I just wanna know why you drank that instead of saying a name!" Shaking your head you place down your glass. "Never again."

Mason laughs, "That was a brave thing to do." Jenna nods in agreement, "That was really courageous of you." James pats you on the back, "Well done, mate!" You smile, lifting up your hands in triumph. " You look around with a smug look on your face and say, "Oh, it was nothing. Just another day saving the world."

Everyone laughs and applauds your bravery. You playfully take a bow and bask in the glory of the moment. Jenna now picks up a card, holding it to her chest. "Mason, Mason, Mason." She repeats as her eyes scan over the food choices. Mason hums in acknowledgement, watching his co-star scan the items. Jenna smiles as she finds what she is looking for, "I chose the giant water scorpion for you."

"I can't believe this. I can't believe you!" Mason holds his hand over his heart, "I thought we were co-stars!" 

 Mason laughs, his mouth widening into a smile. Jenna's eyes twinkle mischievously begins reading the card. Mason listens, shaking his head in disbelief. "Who was the most annoying person on set?"

Mason looks around the room, his eyes meeting each of the crew’s. He points a finger and says, “Time to dig in!” Everyone laughs but it soon turns into shock as Mason quickly stuffs the scorpion in his mouth.

"It was probably Y/N," James jokes and you shake your head laughing. Mason swallows the scorpion in one gulp. Everyone stares in amazement and disbelief. Mason then says, "That was the most annoying person on set!" You can't help but laugh at Mason's comment. He looks around, a satisfied grin on his face. Mason then stands up and takes a bow, as everyone else applauds. He sits back down, picking up a card.

"Jenna, I want you to eat the bug trifle." Jenna thins out her lips and James laughs, "Any who! You've recently signed a deal with Adidas." Jenna nods in agreement and the crowd cheers, you lift your hands clapping along with them. James smiles, "You should be proud, it's a great accomplishment. You should celebrate with a bug trifle!" Jenna thins out her lips and James laughs.

Mason tilts his head with a nod at James' joke before raising the card again. "How much did they sign you for?"

Jenna doesn't spare Mason a second glance, the spoon already in her hand. Mason raises his eyebrows and James speaks up, "Really? Not even an estimate?" Jenna slowly shakes her head, scooping a spoonful of the trifle. "Don't forget the little roach too." You say, pointing at the roach onto of the trifle. Jenna shoots a glare your way, then turns back to her trifle. She takes a bite, her expression unchanged. Mason lets out a sigh and James just shakes his head.

Though she tries to stay strong but picks up her bucket, spitting it all out. "She thought she was a champ!" You laugh, looking at the crowd. They all begin laughing and Jenna searches around for her water, "Where's my water?" She asks. You hand her your own and she takes a sip. 

 She smiles at you and thanks you for your kindness. She then turns to the other people in the crowd and gives them a thumbs up. "I'm good!" she says. The crowd cheers as she straightens her back, and now it is your turn to grab a card. "Mr. Corden." He hums, smiling. "I want you to devour..." He raises an eyebrow at your choice of words earning a giggle for Jenna. "The jellyfish!"

You both laugh at the absurdity of it. "Or! 'I get to see what your last three texts with Justin Bieber were about." James pulls out his phone, nervously looking down, finding 3 texts worth showing. He slowly hands his phone to you. "Justin says, hey man how are you? It's been a while." You smile, glancing at the crowd. "James says, pretty well. I have a few things planned for the show. How is everyone on your side?"

James nods, remembering when he typed this, but he doesn't remember Justin's response. "Justin replies, thumbs up emoji." James grins, pleased, as he takes back his phone. "Nice lil convo there," Mason says and you nod in agreement. James pockets his phone and turns back to Mason. "Thanks, it was nice catching up with an old friend." 

Jenna picks up a card, smirking at you. You inhale a breath, "Throw it at me Ortega." Playfully she lifts the card in her hand throwing the card at you and you catch it with one hand. "Hey, show off," Mason laughs and you smile, feeling a bit of pride. "You know it," you reply.

She jokingly snatches the card back, using it to point at the cow blood & pork tongue jelly." Jenna grins, "Wanna try it? I heard it's really good." You make a face, "No thanks, I'm good. I'm sure Mason's game for it though." Mason laughs, lifting his hands in surrender. "I'll pass too," he says. Jenna shakes her head reads the card, "Y/N."

You smile at the girl sending her a peace sign, "Rank these kiss scenes from worst to best." You drop your face into your hands, the crowd gets louder by the second.

The girl looks at you stunned and you can feel your cheeks getting redder by the second. You really didn't wanna eat the dish in front of you. "Mikey Madison in Scream V, Alexa Demie from Euphoria, or me... in our new movie." She laughs, and you take a deep breath, "Umm!"

Mason's eyes widen. He then thinks of an idea, "Wait! Hold that response." He holds up a finger, taking his phone out of his pocket. He starts to type something. You can see the excitement in his eyes.

He looks up at you with a smile and says, "We can't leave her out!" He was going to call Mikey! She was a sweetheart and you really did enjoy your kiss scene with her. She was a talented actor and kisser! Mason quickly Face-Timed Mikey, who answered on the fifth ring. "Hello?" She says, her soft voice playing through the speakers.

You throw your head back groaning as Jenna and James wave at the camera. "We're on The Late Show right now and Y/N's about to rank her best kisses from worst to best!" James cheers as the audience erupts in laughter. You try to keep a straight face, but can't help but laugh at the ridiculous situation.

You take a deep breath and start to rank your best kisses from worst to best. "Um... Alexa because my character was a rebound. Ummm..." you glance at Jenna who looks back at you amused, and then at Mikey who smiles softly.

"Jenna because! Spoiler alert, you kiss Chad right after and then Mikey! There! Boom!" You stand up from your chair and the crowd screams. Mikey laughs and Jenna rolls her eyes in good humor.

Mason says his goodbyes to Mikey as James closes out his show, "There you have it everyone! Y/N's best kisses from worst to best! Make sure to check out Scream VI in theaters now! Have a great night!" The crowd erupts in applause, and Jenna and Mason stand up waving at the crowd, you do the same blowing kisses as well.

You take a bow with the cast and head backstage. Jenna and Mason thank you for joining them onstage, and you all hug one another. You make your way offstage, filled with a sense of accomplishment. As you walk back to your dressing room, you can hear the cheers of the audience still echoing in your ears.

You smile to yourself and bask in the glory of the moment. You can't believe how far you've come and how much you've achieved. You know that this is just the beginning of a long journey.

Half and hour pasts and you're sitting down in your dressing room, scrolling on your phone. Your fans didn't know you had a TikTok as you scrolling through the app on an alt account, sometimes interacting with them. You hear a knock on the door and you quickly put your phone away. Jenna appears from behind the door, a smile on her face.

"Oh! There's second place," you joke, standing up. Jenna laughs and says, "Our kiss scene deserves first place." What does it matter if I kiss Chad after? You're literally a homie hopper." You raise an eyebrow, "You cannot call my character a homie hopper as you admit to kissing their best friend in the same sentence."

Laughing, Jenna rolls her eyes, stepping closer to you. "I deserve first place." You smirk, "That's not how it works. It's all about believability and you can't portray a character like that and expect to win." Jenna sighs, "Fine. I'll concede, only..." She steps even closer, now having to look up at you. You feel your heart beat increasing, the air between you thickening.

Jenna looks at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her lips twitching into a small smile. "If you let me get a rematch." She finishes. She holds your gaze, awaiting your response. You feel a smile tugging at your lips, and you can't help but agree. "Alright, you've got yourself a rematch."

She steps back and you furrow your eyebrows. I thought she was going to kiss me? You think to yourself.

"Y/C/N," Oh. She actually wants to redo your scene. You step closer and she smiles but quickly removes it, getting back in character. You hum, tilting your head at the shorter girl. "I wouldn't- I wouldn't be hurt if you left." You furrow your eyebrows as she looks away, her eyes resting on the ground.

You sigh, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Why would I ever leave you Tara?" you ask softly. You can feel the tension between you, but you know that it's only for the scene. Or is it?

She shrugs, her gaze returning to yours. "Because my life's messy. First you get tased by my sister and then you get chased around a bodega by Ghostface." You try to make a joke, but she doesn't laugh. Instead, she turns away, her shoulders heavy. "It's like I'm cursed," she says quietly. 

You reach out and gently touch her arm. "You're not cursed," you tell her. "You just have a lot of bad luck. We can get through this together." She looks up at you and finally smiles, her expression softening. Your hand moves to her cheek, caressing it softly.

She leans into your touch and takes a deep breath. For the first time in a long time, she feels a sense of peace. The gaze moves from your eyes to your lips. You both lean toward each other slowly. You both close your eyes and your lips meet.

You feel the warmth of her lips and the warmth of her body. In that moment, all your worries and stress seem to melt away. You wrap your arms around her waist and pull her closer. You can feel her heart beating in time with yours, and you know in that moment that everything will be alright. You stay in that embrace, feeling the warmth and peace of that moment, until reality slowly starts to come back.

And scene. Well Chad was supposed to walk in after, but... hey!

You begin to pull away put Jenna pulls you back into another kiss, with more intensity. You kiss her back with the same intensity, her tongue finding it's way into your mouth. She eagerly explored every inch of your mouth, her soft lips pressing hungrily against yours.

You responded eagerly, your hands exploring her body as your tongues entwined. You felt her hands roaming around your own body, a sensual exploration that left you trembling with desire. You each felt a warmth that spread throughout your bodies, the intensity of the moment pushing you further and further. You both pulled away, breathless and smiling.

Suddenly the door opens. "Hey, guys!" You and Jenna jump after at Mason's voice. He looks between the two of you, confused. Mason takes in the scene, then grins and shakes his head. "Uh, nevermind, I'll come back later." He backs out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Huh, he did end up walking in after. 

"Jenna Ortega, you've now been awarded with first place." Jenna jumped with joy and screamed. You shake your head at her acting, she then jumps into your arms, placing her hands on both sides of your face - pulling you into another award winning kiss.  

#reader insert #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wattpad #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega imagine

[scorpioracha]

Dating Yoongi

We've finally got the dating Yoongi headcanons!! I'm sorry it took so long but boy is it lengthy so strap in. this is not proofread and im fucking exhausted so edits to be done eventually. if you enjoy reblog, like and leave a comment. cw: does contain smut and one kys moment

Your meet cute with Yoongi ended up being more of a meet awkward than anything. It was 3am at one of the many random convenience stores in Gangnam and you were exhausted, exhausted and hungry. You were doing a year in Seoul for your major and the timezones were really fucking you up. Puffy sleepy eyes,glasses on and a sleep mask resting on your forehead made quite the picture.

It was also quite the picture when you ran into a rack of honey butter chips and wiped out on the floor.

Full wipeout.

Legs up,gravity turned on its head wiped out.

Thankfully the only thing wounded was your pride, but you kinda wished you knocked yourself out so you couldn’t see the handsome man towering over laughing so hard his eyes practically disappeared and a gummy smile on his face. He had a cup of ice and one of those americano packets balanced in one hand and a helmet dangling in his other.

“...chana?”

“Huh?”you said in a daze. 

“Gwaenchana?”he purred in a low rumble. He looked at your lost expression and sucked in a breath.

“Are you okay?”It was a little clunky and half mumbled but you didn’t want to put this man through any more mental torment so you nodded quickly.

“Ne, na gwaenchana!”you replied and quickly scrambled to your feet, almost falling once again because your ankle decided now was the time to roll. He quickly reached out and steadied you, looking at you with so much bewilderment the whole situation felt comical. He looked at the hand that still rested on your arm and quickly pulled it away, you swear you saw his pale cheeks turn pink.

“Um…”he rumbled, looking at you with weary eyes. “stay”

You nodded with wide eyes as you watched this random man run around the convenience store and come back with a juice box and a random red pouch. He looked at you and held up each one.

“Bae juice”

He held up the red pouch. “Hong sam jelly for sukchwi…one moment”

He pulled out his phone and typed quickly. He held the phone to his ear and hummed.

“For hangover”he said, pointing to the two items again. Your eyes widened and you shook your head rapidly. You weren’t drunk. He definitely misinterpreted the situation and just smiled, giving you a smile and waving goodbye before disappearing into the night.

And what do you do when a pretty man buys you pear juice and ginseng jelly in a foreign country?

You fucking c o n s u m e it.

And the next morning when you woke up late to your 8:00am lecture, you just blamed the crazy night because wow what the fuck happened.

You spent the rest of your classes thinking about that handsome stranger. Maybe you did hit your head because WHY didn’t you ask for his name or his katalk? You could have done the whole ‘oh handsome young man, I need to pay you back’ kinda schtick but your brain decided to cosplay the very first windows computer and blue screen the minute you looked at him. stupid.

“Stupid” you groaned, trudging back to your dorm. You had been blessed—got accommodations—for a single room so it was just you and your twin sized 

Oh yeah, and your pining. 

Couldn’t forget about your pining.

You needed a drink. A good drink,some good food and some cartoons to get your mind off this random man. Within minutes you had a bottle of soju and a hefty platter of tteokbokki on the way. Maybe you’d go out for bingsu sometime this week with the girls from your lecture. They were sweet and treated you just like anyone else despite the racial and cultural differences, doting on you as their new maknae and always making sure you ate between classes. It was nice to be looked out for so thoroughly, especially when you were so far away from home. You pulled your phone out to text them when you got a notification that your delivery driver was already on the way.

Huh. they were already earning themself a tip. You stood eagerly by the door waiting and even though you were watching the app like a hawk, you jumped when the doorbell rang and scrambled to open it.

“Gamsahab-”you looked up and saw a familiar set of eyes. “...-nida”

“Soju?”he raises his brow in a way that says ‘again?’. You felt your face grow hot and shook your head rapidly. He just smirked and handed over your takeout bags.

Once again you fucked up,blanked and forgot to ask for his name.

 Damn pretty boy with his pretty eyes and his stupid smile.

It was months before you had seen him again. 

Time heals all wounds and you began to move on. You hung out more with your friends, went to karaoke,saw the sights of Seoul and slowly but surely felt yourself moving on.

It was on a rainy day in May where you found yourself at your usual convenience store. The weather went from sunny skies to torrential downpour within minutes and you had just gotten your hair done. You were looking for an umbrella but found yourself in the snack aisle. 

Blame it on the wind.

What you didn’t expect to find in the snack aisle were seven men bickering. 

You kinda just stood like 🧍🏾‍♀️ until one of them finally turned and god he was stunning 

“Yah, Yoongi-yah!! Move and let this lady through!”

The ‘Yoongi’ in question quickly scooted out of the way, mumbling about how they were all in the way. 

That mumble…

“Yoongi..”you whispered before you could even stop yourself. His gaze snapped up and for once you caught him off guard. His eyes flitted over you rapidly and his mouth opened and shut like a nutcracker.

“Soju girl,”he whispered. Then the moment was lost.

"na iroumi aniya(that’s not my name)” you huffed in annoyance. You know there was an honorific you were supposed to use somewhere in that sentence but your point still stood.

“You speak Korean”another boy said and god he was tall.

“Yes I speak Korean”you said, tilting your head up at him.

“Hyung, you said soju girl couldn’t speak Korean!”a voice laughs. You squint your eyes at this Yoongi who seemingly wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He stared at you like he had seen a ghost actually which wasn’t making things much better. The tall boy sighed and took a step forward, bowing even. 

“I apologize for my hyung,”he said solemnly. “He’s usually not this dumb. I’m Kim Namjoon and these are my bandmates. What’s your name?”

You smiled and returned the bow, happy to finally have some familiarity, both language and warmth.

“I’m y/n”you said. “I think me and your hyung have some catching up to do”

Yes, to say it was a meet awkward was the nicest way to put it.

It was a fucking train wreck of events if you were being completely honest.

You had exchanged info with Namjoon seeing as he spoke the most English and was the only one who didn’t 👁️👄👁️ at you which was nice and had quickly become good friends with one another.

Seeing that their leader liked you, the rest of the boys quickly followed suit and you suddenly had a much bigger friend group than you could even imagine.

Yoongi had become a lot more reserved in a way that was off putting to say the least. You’d only ever spoken to him twice before but there was something off.

you’d asked Namjoon about it during one of your study/music/kill each other from frustration sections and he just shrugged mumbling something about ‘hyung being busy’ 

you rolled your eyes and grabbed your stuff to find out yourself. That’s what you get for asking a dumbass.

Yoongi had been exactly where you’d expect him to be, crammed into one of the practice rooms with his headphones and laptop.

“Yoongi,” you said, tapping on his shoulder. He spun around in a startle and looked at you with a relieved sigh.

“Oh god”he breathed out, “I thought you were one of the maknae begging for food”

You couldn’t help but to smile, all the prior annoyance melting out of your pores and back to the depths of hell where they belonged. Talking to Yoongi was easy, that is when he was still talking to you.

“How do you know I'm not begging for food?”you smirked, taking a seat on the lumpy couch.

“Well, are you?”he asked, raising a brow. You shook your head and leaned back into the couch.

“You’re off the hook”you said, “but I do have a question” “Which is?” “Why have you been avoiding me lately?”

The room grew silent enough you could hear a pin drop. Cornered was the only way you could describe Yoongi. His shoulders scrunched up and he seemed to fold in on himself.

“No reason,”he said plainly.

Your eyes narrowed.

“So you have been avoiding me?”

His eyes widened.

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean?”you asked. Your patience was wearing thin and your heart was racing something ugly.

“I was trying to give you space”

“Space for what? I didn’t ask for space!”you snapped.

“Space for you and Namjoon!”he snapped back, folding his arms over his chest.

“Me and Namjoon?”you gagged. “The last thing me and Namjoon need is space, please collect your dongsaeng cause he won’t leave me alone!”

“Well he’s your boyfriend!”Yoongi threw back.

Huh.

“Huh?!”You shrieked. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to find out,”Yoongi continued, rolling his eyes. “So you can drop the naive act”

“Naive act—Yoongi, you think I'm dating Namjoon?”you asked. You felt like you were going to be sick. Namjoon wasn’t bad by any means, he was just so older brother coded it was disgusting.

“I don't think, I know,”he said. “You guys spend all your time together,you go on dates,you take naps together; it’s obvious”

“Well since you’re such a genius”You said, “How come you couldn’t tell that i’m in love with you?”

Huh.

“Huh?”he said, spinning around in his chair to fully face you. You ran a hand over your face and honest to god laughed.

“Idiots”you said in disbelief. “You’re all idiots”

“Hey-”

“I've been pining over you for months and this whole time you think i’ve been dating Namjoon”you said, shaking your head.

“You’ve been what?”Yoongi said. 

“Crushing on you”you emphasized, “You idiot”

“i..I don’t know what to say,”he said. You sighed and fully leaned back against the chair, feeling all the blood rush to your head from your bold confession. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

“You can let me down gently for starters”you chuckled humorlessly.

“Let you down—what are you talking about?”he asked.

“Just reject me already!”You exclaimed, waving your hands frantically. You felt like a madwoman.

“Why would I reject you?”his eyebrows furrowed.

You were going to be sick.

“I’m going to be sick”you laughed, running your hands over your face and god were you crying?

“Why are you crying?”he rumbled softly, leaning in and wiping the tears off your cheeks. You just laughed harder, but that ended up turning into a sob because you were so tired. You weren’t expecting a fairytale but this wasn’t the turn you thought today would take. You felt yourself being pulled closer and you knew you should pull away, you knew better. It was all too much and he would just hurt you, but his hoodie smelled like coffee. His hoodie smelled like coffee and his hands were warm as they wrapped around you. You always wondered if he ran hot or cold, but he was neither; Yoongi was pleasantly warm. His hand had somehow wriggled between the two of you and rested on your cheek, rubbing the streaks where your tears trailed. His breath rose and fell in a steady rhythm and for a moment you felt weighless.

“What a mess, huh?”he mumbled, tracing his thumb over your temple. “I went and made all these assumptions…because I was afraid to say I love you”

“You love me?”you whispered. 

“Mm”he rumbled in affirmation. “You didn’t know?”

“No”you said, keeping your voice low, scared if you spoke too loud, the moment would disappear.

“I thought I was being obvious,”he said.

“I thought I was being obvious,”you said. You pulled your head back to look at Yoongi and that gummy smile was on full display.

“We’re both idiots”

Actually dating Yoongi went much smoother than the confession process.

In the early days, the two of you spent a lot of time in the genius studio doing parallel play, you’d work on your assignments and he would work on music. 

Obviously with many interruptions from the maknae line + hoseok, occasionally being prodded by Seokjin and Namjoon to eat,drink and get fresh air

Y’all needed to touch grass and they were sick of it

Being so close to the band in their early days formed an immeasurable bond between you all

But it also lead to a lot of sacrifices on your part that you weren’t prepared to make. 

There was the obvious like no posting about the boys on social media,nda’s up the wazoo,etc. This was all expected and you were willing to do so.

What you weren’t prepared for was how cruel the kmedia could truly be. You weren’t from here, you were a foreigner and that already put a target on your back. The fact that you weren’t thin or pale didn’t help one bit either. 

Thankfully, the boys and Yoongi reassured you in private. Namjoon did damage control and argued with the company to do more on your behalf, while Jimin and the maknae stood by your side like bodyguards wherever you went in silent solidarity. You were never alone. Jin dropped you off at university in the morning, along with Jungkook. Scolding the two of you to have a good day and to eat something that wasn’t chips. Naturally, Jungkook would bring you back once your classes were done and continued to gripe that even though he was older than you, he was still stuck in highschool.

You still hold this over his head to this date.

So thankfully, you had support. Support that if you didn’t have you weren’t sure where you would be honestly. It really felt like you all had become a little family, and being so far from home that was something you desperately needed.

Once the group got larger and was in a more stable position you better believe they all stopped holding their tongues, especially Yoongi. He could be a little hard to read at times but you were not expecting him to be getting himself into full on twitter wars on a burner account over you 💀

“Yoongi stop telling people to kill themselves”

“No”

Being in love with Yoongi felt easy, it was natural. He continued to take care of you in little ways whether it was packing your lunch,giving you transit fare or rubbing your temples when you were tired and falling asleep on him.

Our mans is definitely about that acts of service life. He loves quietly.

Pda made him want to die just a little inside but he wasn’t opposed to holding your hand. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide anyways, you guys were already public. 

He wasn’t the jealous type and although he’d never admit it, he loved how much you and the boys love each other. He’s got a bunch of pictures on his phone of you just in the dorms being domestic. You spent more time there than you did in your own dorm room.

 So although he doesn’t say it often, he shows it with every part of his being. The way his eyes sparkle when he sees you in the morning, his proud smile in your graduation photos. It also made his heart flutter that you got his dry humor and you dished it right back to him, smack in the middle of the maknae line teasing him and Jin about being old.

And when you learned Daegu Satoori from Taehyung to surprise him? Namjoon had to hold him back from proposing on the spot. And to think he ever thought you and Namjoon were dating.

Yoongi bits ✨tid bits about you and yoongi ✨

Yes Yoongi genuinely thought you were drunk and he wasn’t flirting(he got that nuerodivergent rizz)

When Yoongi told you the mint hair wasn’t real and washed it out you cried 🧍🏾‍♀️

You guys have two apartments together, one near Hybe and one in Daegu. You both prefer the apartment in Daegu because that means Holly gets to stay with you guys.

Everytime a new design for shooky it mysteriously appears in the apartment.

You guys have two cats per your request(a white one named sugar and a black one named gloss) the things Yoongi does for love

You guys have been happily engaged for the past year and he proposed in the most unromantic way possible 

NSFW

Baby, Yoongi is a switch with a capital S

Now I have never met a non kinky neurodivergent person and Yoongi is no exception. He enjoys a good power dynamic and has definitely explored kink in the past with previous partners so he’s experienced.

 But Yoongi does occasionally just like to fuck, no rules no dynamics. Just vanilla sex

He’s a lot softer than his image and he honestly likes the separation between the two for his own sanity. The fans think he’s this no nonsense hardass, but he’d much rather praise and reward you than dole out punishments.

He’s a softie at heart and finds a bit of bratty behavior to be cute so you can definitely get away with a lot. Not to say he’s a complete pushover but he definitely will let a good amount of back talk slide before he puts you in your place. It's almost infuriating how calm he is if you’re the type that brats in hopes of a punishment. He’ll just look at you and laugh about how cute you’re being before returning back to whatever he was doing.

It’s pretty hard to tick him off but also not impossible, the easiest way to get him to snap is to mess with him in the studio; especially if he has a deadline coming up. That's how you end up on your knees crammed under his desk not even allowed to suck his dick but just sit there and keep it warm while he works. The condescending mumbles and coos he lets out while stroking your head is enough to send you careening straight into subspace. “Just needed something in your mouth, huh?”he’d purr and gently drag his nails across your scalp

Tongue technology. We all know about it, but you get to experience this first hand at your beck and call. Yoongi is the first one to admit you’re spoiled and when you’re not being a brat, all you have to do is ask and he’ll be in between your legs. He could and has spent hours down there teasing your folds and giving you orgasm after orgasm until you can’t take it anymore.

Somnophilia. This is a kink that goes both ways for you guys but honestly he finds it really hot when you take what you need from him. Waking up groggy in the middle of the night to you fucking yourself on his cock is one of the quickest ways to get Yoongi whining and gripping the sheets. Bonus points if you tie his hands up or cuff them to the bed posts.

He’s not really a fan of quickies and prefers to take his time, but he’s not opposed to shoving you into a closet and getting you off on his fingers if you’re getting needy. He just wants to take care of his girl.

Speaking of his hands, they end up around your throat and in your mouth quite often. Whether you’re sucking or gagging on them, Yoongi makes good on this little fixation and makes sure you get your fill.

He’s down to being pegged. Somebody had to say it guys,🗣️ Yoongi wants something up his ass ‼️

Whether you have him bent over a table or you’re tied up and he’s riding you, Yoongi does enjoy penetration and he’s not ashamed of it. He likes how dazed and pliant you get when he’s bouncing on your strap all flushed and pink and whining. it’s a rush to his head and sends him over the edge faster than he can get a hand on himself.

He’s a fan of cozy aftercare and pillow talk. After you’ve both cleaned up and the bed is moderately clean, he’s off in the kitchen getting snacks and water so you two can cuddle and recap what you liked and disliked. He gets really affectionate after he cums so it usually dissolves into him mumbling praises and kissing all over your face before falling asleep.

All in all Yoongi is the best boy.

#yoongi headcanons #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #Yoongi smut #bts headcanons #bts hard thoughts #bts hard hours #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #bts min yoongi #bts fanfic #bts yoongi #yoongi drabble #min yoongi

[reallyromealone]

As promised

Here's exclusive smut from my patreon

Not tagging because lazy

It's Mikey omegaverse smut tho

They all circled the bed as they watched the two omegas go at it, (name) between Mikey's legs and sucking his cock while the other omega hump into (name)s mouth.

The scent of needy omegas was heavy as the alphas around them stroked their cocks, completely entranced with the two "f-fuck!" Mikey cried out, eyes squeezed shut in focus as he felt his body seize up and cumming in (name)s mouth.

The second time he climaxed.

"So good..." (Name) mumbled as he licked remnants of cum from his lip and stared down Mikey with a slutty grin "pretty omega..." He mumbled and watched the bonten leader blush slightly as (name)s hands rubbed the others pale thighs "come on 'jiro...lets show our alphas how omegas fuck"

Mikey whined as he moved to sit up, legs feeling like jelly and Sanzu all but whined when the two began making out, Mikey rubbing (name)s cock while (name)s hands snaked behind Mikey to grope at his ass, fingers sliding to play with his slick hole.

Their kiss was messy, drool down their cheeks as their tongues played with each other and eventually french kissing while making the prettiest noises, (name) slowly working Mikey's ass open as his own legs quivered from the pleasure of Mikey's hand.

"God they're so fucking hot" Ran mumbled as he fucked his own hand, the others all silently agreeing to his words as Mikey began moving down to suck and kiss at (name)s neck, leaving pretty bruises along the mating mark that had a deep bite mark in it from one of their alphas many moons ago.

"Manjiro..." (Name) panted breathlessly as his fingers thrusted into the blonds ass, pressing against his prostate roughly as Mikey gently pushed him down "come on baby, ride me like you ride our alphas ~" (name) said watching Mikey guide (name) cock into his own ass.

Omegas cocks weren't nearly as big as an alphas but it got the job done "fuck...!" (Name) cried out, biting his bottom lip as Mikey bottomed out "so good..." Mikey mumbled out, hips rolling as he rode (name) like he would his alphas.

(Name) and Mikey held hands as they fucked, glancing to see their alphas masturbating hard to them, this was better than anything they could conjure up in their darkest deepest fantasies.

"Look (name)... They're getting off to us..."

"Such perverts" (name) mumbled back as they continued fucking, Mikey's back arched as (name) humped up into his slick tight ass.

The two went at it, riding and fucking as pretty moans escaped their lips.

"C-cant!" (Name) cried out as he came into mikeys ass, the blond cuming onto their chests, the rest of Bonten walked closer.

"Open up Omegas, we have a treat for you" Koko hissed as the alphas released all over them, cum catching in their mouths and the alphas watched them kiss with cum in their mouth.

"Fuck..."

Why were they so hot?!

"Alphaaa~" (mame) mumbled as he and Mikey layed on their sides, moving slightly to spread their upper ass cheek to show their slick asses, cum leaking from Mikey's "fuck us good~?" Mikeys voice was almost questioning as the alphas felt themselves harden at the sight once more, practically pouncing the two Omegas.

Both Omegas lay on an alphas chest, (name) with Kakucho and Mikey with Rindō, the alphas arms hooked under their knees as their cocks pushed in and (name) and Mikey let out absolutely whorish moans.

"So good~" Mikey mumbled as they began thrusting, the two omegas watching eachother get fucked before the alphas pushed forward, the two omegas cocks pressed up and their nipples rubbing against each other.

"Kiss..." (Name) mumbled towards Rindō and Mikey followed suit with Kakucho, the group kissing sloppily as they fucked "ah!" Mikeys voice muffled in the kiss while Kakucho devoured his mouth, legs shaking "don't ignore the other alphas"

(Name) and Mikey shakily began sucking and stroking the other's cocks, fucked stupid beyond belief as their asses slapped against the alphas thighs.

"God they're so fucking good..."

"I could die happy now..."

"Arent their heats sychned now?"

"God next heat is going to be fucking spectacular"

(Name) was unsure how he ended up in this position, on his back with his head hanging off the bed with a cock fucking both ass and throat while Mikey got both Sanzu and Ran fucking his ass sloppy, both omegas getting cum fucked into their asses.

All that could be heard was the muffled moans and skin slapping skin "fuck... Your throats so fucking good baby..." Takeomi mumbled as the force of koko fucking him pushed his cock further down (name)s throat "gonna cum, swallow it good"

"Mmfh!" (Name) cried out as cum shot down his throat and in his ass adding onto the cum that filled him "good boy..."

Both Omegas were shaking and full of cum, letting their alphas clean and dote over them "so good for us" Sanzu gently cleaned the cum from (name)s ass soft kisses on his shoulder as they rinsed off the two who were in their Omegan States.

"Alpha..." Mikey mumbled as Mochi washed his skin gently, the blond clinging to him like a lifeline "let's get you both to the nest yeah?"

Dried and clean the two were practically passed out by time they were brought to the nest "sleep" was all they heard as they passed out cuddling one another.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

An Unfair Loss

Summary: Thomas realizes that his results were switched with yours, and you had developed the curse Ruby had.

-Based off season 6 finale.

-Kinda proofread, kinda didn't. I feel like this was kinda rushed but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mention of suicide

Gun to his temple, he cocked it, ready to fire until he heard an all too familiar voice, his little Ruby.

Looking out into the field of green, he saw his baby girl running toward him with her small legs. He met her halfway pulling her into his warm embrace.

“Did Aunt Polly send you? Oh it feels so wonderful to have you in my arms one last time.” Tommy was panting, and the little girl held him tight so he knew she was really there before she spoke.

“You’re not even sick daddy.”

“But I am my darling. I’m closer to death as we speak.” The child shook her head vigorously, looking in the distance before turning back to her dad.

“No daddy not true, you’ve got to live, for Y/N.” Thomas’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not understanding what she was trying to say.

“What do you mean? Her exams came back clean Ruby. What do you-“ She guided her arm to the side, her hand pointing over at the fire. Thomas followed her gaze.

“It’s in the papers daddy. I’ve got to go.” She hugged her father once more, before vanishing in the distance in the field of grass and scattered flowers. Tommy watched, wishing that he had been faster, and had been a better dad in not putting business first but his family first. He wasn’t sure that he was doing that now, since he rushed off not telling you or anyone else where he was going, but he was sure that everyone assumed what he set off to do.

The corner of the paper flowed in the wind underneath the piles of sticks on top of them. His daughter may have been young, but deep down Thomas knew she was smart, far too brilliant for her age, so who was he to doubt her.

Standing up on his feet, his legs felt like jelly as he made his way over to the pit. He picked up the ripped page, eyeing it conspicuously. He took note of Oswald and his wife, and then looked at the bigger picture, and what he saw he couldn’t believe. His doctor, whom he trusted with his own health, was standing next to them in a photograph.

“Son of a bitch.” He didn’t waste one moment before he began to run on foot to the man’s house.

Alfred turned to get in his car, that was not working. “What the hell, how did-“ When he went to close the door Thomas’s arm was wrapped around his neck while he pointed the gun at the side of his temple. Alfred stumbled in his grip, trying to get out but Tommy was far too strong for him to take on.

“You’ve been my doctor for three years now, didn’t realize how well connected you were Alfred. You made me believe I was going to die soon, and knew that I’d rather off myself. Made me believe my wife was in good health. That’s me assuming that’s who you switched my results with eh?” He tightened his grip around the man’s small, fragile throat, making his voice strained when he responded.

“Ye-Yes.”

Thomas forced him onto the hard ground on his knees, while at a fast pace me moved his gun toward the front of the scared man’s face, resting it upon his forehead and cocking it.

“Wait! Wait! You and your wife are both sick. The amount of people you have killed in cold blood and the both of you just stood by, not explaining yourselves to the grieving families.” Tommy rolled his eyes in response, hardening the gun to the man’s head.

“But- but, I think because of your children and your family, you are a changed man. You’re not going to shoot me Tommy.” A dark chuckle escaped from Tommy’s plush, pale lips.

“You see that’s where you’re wrong I am. I’m a changed man until it involves my fucking wife, and my fucking children, Alfred.” In an instant, the echo of his gun firing swam through the neighborhood. People looked through their windows to see what had happened but immediately escaped their windows once they realized it was Thomas Shelby.

Patting down his suite, he exited the property, and walked back to the home he shared with you.

As he walked in the quaint weather, he couldn’t help but watch kids running around, and notice happy families. Why was it he never got to be happy? Grace was taken away, Lizzie was too much, but you? He had never seen a woman be such an amazing mother to his children or treat him the way you did. He knew it was unfair of him to run off on you, not saying a word but he was trying to protect you in not seeing him wither away. Who knew it would be him having to watch you slowly deteriorate.

-

“Mummy! Mummy! Daddy’s home?” Charlie heard her and came rushing down the stairs to look out the window.

“Milly we’ve talked about this he-“ You were cut off by the sound of the door opening. You stopped putting away the laundry and approached the living room quickly. Maybe someone had news of Thomas’s whereabouts, or worse maybe he was dead.

When you passed through the doorway, you felt like you were looking at a ghost, a panicked ghost at that. There your husband stood, like nothing had happened and everything was okay. He was still dressed in his suit but looked like he was rummaging through his mind conflicted and pained.

“Tommy?”

“Yes, my love.” You couldn’t stop yourself from running to him and jumping in his arms, hugging him. He smelt like he had been drinking combined with a hint of grass on his clothes. Your arms being wrapped around him once again felt surreal, and warm. You felt complete and couldn’t stop the water brimming at your eyelids, it had been weeks since you touched him, or seen him and your whole body couldn’t find the will to let go of him, not again.

He patted your back soothingly as he watched Charlie and Milly over your shoulder, they had looked confused as to why you would be crying but happy. He felt terrible watching their innocent eyes, and knowing what he knows now about your inevitable death that was soon to come, and it scared him of the thought he’d be the only parent they had, once again.

“It’s okay, it’s alright. I’m here now darling, I’m not going anywhere ever again, eh?” You nodded into the crook of his dampened neck; your tears had soaked. Tommy was glad they were joyful tears, but he knew that his news would change everything momentarily.

“Charlie, Milly, can you go upstairs I need to talk to your mum privately. I’ll be up in a moment, alright?” You sunk down from his grip and wiped away your tears, looking up at him with those loving, endearing eyes that always managed to brighten his day.

He guided you to the table, taking a seat next to you and folding his hands. When you looked at him he looked, lost like you’d never seen him before but you waited patiently to talk. His hand grazed across to the wooden table before it rest on top of yours, intertwining his fingers.

“My darling, you’re sick, very sick.” You looked at him confused, not catching onto what he meant.

“Ruby visited me today, I think Pol sent her. I left to kill myself and she stopped me, she stopped me and made realize Alfred’s intentions. I’m unsure of if you’ve been reading the paper but there is a photo of him standing with Mosley. I found him and he admitted to switching our results.” Realization sat in, and you leaned back against the chair in defeat. It explain why you’ve not been feeling well, why you’ve been hearing things, seeing things that had no explanation. A part of you had convinced yourself it was because you were adjusting the the thought of Thomas being dead.

“I- But how did-“ He tightened his grip on your hand, pursing his lips together as he had felt he had failed in being the man he was meant to be for you. If he had just not taken the easy way out and disappearing, if he had paid closer attention to the small details before Ruby had gotten sick this could have been avoided.

Thomas felt as if he was breaking at the seams. How did he not see it, how did he miss all the signs?

His heart was breaking inside as he watched you sitting across the table, head buried in your hands while you cried a river. You didn’t want him to see you like this, so weak, and broken.

“Oh god the kids, they-they’ve seen me like this, they’ve been seeing me like this. I don’t want them to anymore. I -I can’t bear the thought of them finding me-“ You couldn’t find the ability to complete that sentence.

Milly and Charlie meant the world to you, and it was hard enough losing Ruby and Thomas, well Thomas had lost everyone and here you sat being added to the list.

“Darling, you know as well as I do there is no cure for a gypsy curse.” It had taken you quite a while to understand Thomas’s upbringing, but you had always put in the time and effort to ask questions, and take interest. Throughout the years being married to him, you didn’t have a doubt in your mind about there being no cure if Thomas said there wasn’t. You never questioned him after Ruby.

-

Tommy’s pov

-

Tonight was an awful night, and I had never felt more weak than I did now. I watched her as she lay in bed, her skin was pale, lips cracked. She was shivering, and she had lost the ability to remember things. I had asked her just the other day if she knew where she was, she didn’t. Somehow, someway she managed to remember the childrens names, but not that she was Milly’s mum, or that Charlie considered her as a mum. Do you know what that does to a man?

Watching your wife slowly wilt away and lose her sanity. Not being able to do anything about it. It’s gut wrenching and it was a pain I had never felt before. I often found when she needed something I would escort myself out of the room, check on the children, and find a place to shed my tears where no one could see, I wanted to be strong for her, for them.

Y/N, has sacrificed her entire life in watching over them, making sure they were fed, clothed, bathed, and taught the simplicities of life. Yet she still always found the time and the effort for our marriage. She worked wonders, and is very bright, brighter than the moon on a clear, quiet night. The amount of weight she had lost from not eating. My wife looked unrecognizable but still beautiful as always.

The delusions had gotten worse, she began to hallucinate at dinner, and the children saw it.

“Who are you people, where am I?” I watched as fear settled within her wide eyes.

“Y/N darling-“ She stood up from the table frantically, searching for a familiar face, and looking at the people she didn’t recognize. She took the glass of water from the table and threw it at the painted wall, shattering it into a million little pieces, making the kids jump in their seats.

I pushed the chair back rushing over to her before she hurt herself or someone else in this room.

That’s when she turned slowly, almost with what seemed like a dead gaze before her arm slowly extended until it pointed toward the empty hallway. I followed her gaze, freezing in my tracks not wanting to frighten her. There was nothing there.

“He’s here.” I looked back to her with calm eyes, hands out so she knew I wouldn’t do anything to her.

“Honey, there’s nothing there.” She shook her at a vigorous rate, disagreeing with me and she began to back into the wall as I approached her with ease.

“Daddy what’s wrong with mummy?” What was I supposed to say to them? That their mother’s delusional, they had already known she was falling of illness. I glanced over to them quickly while my hands rested on Y/N’s flailing wrists.

“Charlie, Milly go to your rooms.” They hadn’t moved, and Milly began to cry.

She was too young to understand at her ripe age of two years old. I looked at Charlie with expectant eyes. I depended on him and I didn’t mean to put all the weight on his shoulders to look after Milly but what choice did I have when I had to take care of their mother, my wife. A man can only handle so much at one time.

“Charlie! Go with Milly, now!” Charlie jolted up out of his seat, grabbing Milly in his arms before running up the stairs with her. Once I heard the door close my attention averted back to Y/N. I watched as she was struggling for air and still screaming at the top of her lungs, her body shaking. I gripped her wrists as I felt that being calm maybe was not the best decision to get across to her that no monster, no ememy, nothing was in the room. Just me, her husband. It killed me withing  knowing that this was something I had no control over, I couldn’t offer her protection from her own mind.

“Y/N! Look at me!” She stayed frantic and I began to shake her gently.

“Hey! It’s alright! It’s alright! Nothing’ there! Look, please my love!” She shook her head vigorously for a moment more before she opened her eyes once I rested my hands on her warm cheeks. Hesitantly, she peered her frightened eyes open, looking up at me for reassurance that it was safe. I nodded to her, and she must have still had an ounce of trust in me as she cautiously poked her head around my shoulder.

She released a held in breath, and began to cry one more as her body collapsed against my chest.

“I’m tired Tommy. I’m tired, I’m-I’m scared.” She hiccupped, and I began to brush my fingers through her hair as I held the back of her head.

“I just want everything to end, to go away. I can’t do this anymore.” Her back was spasming, and her first was clutched into my shirt, holding on for dear. She was ready to let go, she had given up but the problem was, this curse wasn’t that easy to put to an end. It would take you when it was ready, it didn’t care how broken down she was, this curse was about pain, suffering, breaking down a person to their lowest level. I knew at that moment the end was beginning and it was far nearer than I was ready for.

“I know darling. I know.” I couldn’t tell her to keep fighting, what point would that contain? There was no cure for this curse, and I wish I could find one, because until then I must watch my wife die slowly and cruelly.

I held her in my arms as she shivered and sweated at the same time. “Y/N, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” You didn’t nod or anything showing a response to him. The delusions that began a few weeks ago made you question whether Thomas was even your husband, if you even knew who this man holding you was at times. Fear fulfilled you but you found it best not to move and lay there limp as your body was in indescribable pain.

2 Weeks Later

It was a Wednesday when she had passed in my arms.

A small shimmer of sunlight had peaked between the curtains from the morning sky, settling on her still beautiful face. I combed a strand of hair behind her hair, admiring her perfect face before I had realized.

“Y/N?” She didn’t speak in return, and out of disparity I pulled her body in between my arms, embracing her now lifeless body, unable to hold back tears. They came flooding out, running down my cheeks, soaking the thin shirt she had been wearing, I had never felt more vulnerable and lost in my entire being. This was a loss I wasn’t prepared for. Nobody is truly prepared for death, but I wept. I wept and for once I prayed, I prayed that our children did not hear me.

I wasn’t ready to confront them, how was I supposed to tell Milly her mom was gone, how was I supposed to tell Charlie that now his second mother, was dead. My heart went out to our children, they were well behaved, innocent, and just so young and oblivious to the troubles of being an adult. Bless their heart. They were great kids, but I owe it all to you, my dear Y/N.

I telephoned Ada, settling my breath and trying to regain composure. She had answered right away.

“Thomas.” I sniffled in response, brushing away the snot that coated my skin with my sleeve.

“Ada, she’s gone.” The line was silent, assuming she was trying to think of something to make me feel better or make this process easier. I looked back at my wife once more and tried to tell myself, she was sleeping peacefully, it’s an odd feeling that’s indescribable when faced with your dead spouse, just completely still. It had felt like her soul and her being had already left the room, already making the house feel strange to me.

“I’ll be right over. Tommy, I’m so sorry.” I nodded to myself, once again being lost for words and hung up the phone. Should I lay here with her until Ada gets here? Should I go inform Charlie and Milly now? But if I do that, would they try to break into the room? Would they start crying and screaming to see you? Should they see you? My mind was roaming every which way, how do I know what do? You were always the smart one in our marriage.

The children didn’t understand, and I was grateful that Polly tended to Milly and Charlie while I arranged the funeral exactly how Y/N had wanted it.

The venue was closed casket, she did not want a gypsy funeral and she didn’t want the children to see her in that way. It was a close knit group of friends and family per her request in the backyard of the fortress we had built together.

I had the children at my side, dressed in black, and I had Ada braid Milly’s hair as she complained endlessly about it. That was when I saw my dear friend Alfie

“Thomas she was a wonderful woman, she cared for you and understood you inside and out, in a way I don’t think anyone ever has. Sometimes life has chosen to take people from us, and we can never understand why, eh? I nodded, still holding Charlie and Milly’s hands.

“Just know she’s in a better place mate? Alright?” I nodded in response and escorted the children toward the casket. I couldn’t help but feel my breath hitch in my throat, knowing she was in there, a part of me wanted to look but I wouldn’t as I wanted to respect her wishes.

The funeral began, everyone gathering in a small circle. Alfie spoke nothing but kind words and cracked a few jokes here and there to lighten the moods of not only the adults but the kids. It couldn’t stop the feeling of loss everyone had felt. As each person spoke, I realized it was now my turn. I gave Charlie and Milly a hug before I had spoke.

“Where can I even begin to honor this amazing woman. She gave me life, love, laughs, all the things I didn’t think were possible after I came home from the war. She struck something within me as she did to all of us. Her parenting skills and the patience she carried were beyond belief, and beyond anything I could be capable of. She made me learn that life isn’t about losing or winning, it’s not about money or business deals. It’s about family, being there for each other through a difficult time and I want to thank every one of you who came and-“

“Daddy can I say something?” Charlie spoke up interrupting me and my thoughts. I cued him to go ahead.

“Y/N might not have been my mom, but I loved her, and I hate that she’s gone. Life’s not fair, and I wonder why I can’t ever have a mom, but Y/N taught me that life works in mysterious ways and it’s okay to be sad sometimes, it’s what you do with that sadness that matters.” I felt my tears brimming at the rim but clenched my jaw, holding back my emotions for everyone here. I bent down and hugged Charlie telling him how well he did. Milly was in tears and I picked her up into my arms, cradling her before I excused myself into the house with them as I felt we needed a moment alone to be a family.

Later that night…

Once I tucked the children into bed and everyone had left, I felt lost. The person I shared my life with wasn’t home anymore and would never be again.

I closed the bedroom door and locked it. I can’t understand or find the meaning behind Y/N’s life coming to an end so soon. I weakly, opened the bottle of wine that sat atop the dresser while my mind was beginning to go frantic. I didn’t know the kids schedules like you, I didn't know what they liked to eat and what not or even if they were allergic to anything. What if I hospitalize them, or they get hurt on my watch in the way that Y/N and Ruby both did. What if I can’t protect them? How am I supposed to raise Charlie and Milly on my own when I don’t even know these little things about them because of business.

Cracking open the bottle I spilled the sweet alcohol down my throat, it’s taste quenching my nerves but it wasn’t enough. I needed more, as if it could replace the void in my heart.

I found myself rummaging through the drawers, tears brimming at the sight of her clothes lying next to mine but I stopped when I noticed a piece of paper, hanging out of one of her pockets.

“My dear Thomas,

                Don’t be sad, we knew the day would come sooner or later. It may feel like there is no reason to move forward but there is. Look after Charlie and Milly, they need their father, and they love you very much. Remind them every day that I am with them in their hearts, as I am with you. I wouldn’t trade our story for the world because you, Thomas Shelby, complete me. You’ve grown so much, and improved, you put your family first over business though it took quite some time, but you made that change for us. Don’t lose sight of who we are, who you are and what we’ve built. I know you’re scared but I believe in you Tommy, as I always have since day one. Before everything went wrong and I lost my mind I wrote down everything you could possibly be unsure about of the kids schedules, their meal times, doctors. Etc. You’ve got this my love, I promise you, you guys are going to be okay and I will still be around even if you don’t see me.

                                Love Dearly,

                                                Y/N”

I hung my head in disbelief, I don't know where I'd be or where to begin without Y/N. She seems to always think of everything, and every possible situation. I love her dearly, and I could never imagine re marrying or being with another woman after her.

#thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #ranaewrites

[curiositydooropened]

Wildfire • Combustion

You're in trouble. When Vecna sinks he's claws into you, your friends rally around you to help exorcise your demons.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 10,887

Warnings: This chapter contains smut. Minor DNI. • enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

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Chapter Five: Searing • Chapter Seven: Inferno

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The sun hit the front window and bounced off bright orange, drowning your front yard in an amber glow. It was hot, and your shirt stuck to your skin with summer sweat. The yard was littered in toys, a tractor sprinkler, double bicycles with baskets and tassels on the handlebars. Chalk was strewn across the sidewalk, hopscotch traced in stark whites. Gravel crunched in the drive beneath your feet. 

Your mom called your name from the front door, asked if Vickie was staying for dinner. The girl beside you confirmed with a thumbs up and a wave, limbs longer than she was tall. She grinned at you, two front teeth missing, red hair pulled back into braids. She elbowed at your waist. “Can I stay with you forever?” 

You smiled, excited at the prospect of your best friend moving in, hauling her little rubber suitcase full of dolls and horsies down the road to your house and unloading on your bedroom floor. You would share peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day for the rest of your lives. 

“Till death do you part, right?” A deep voice came from behind you, a chill of breath to the back of your neck. 

You spun and found no one, just a chill on the breeze, the landscape faded to harsh blues and burgundies, everything covered in black ichor and vines. 

Vickie called your name, and when you turned again to face her, she was writhing in agony, skin melting from the bones of her cheeks, collarbone exposed. She reached out, mouth agape, flames that engulfed her the same color as her shock of red hair. Her eyes were pale blue, clouded.

You slammed your eyes closed, and the heat of her was wiped away in an instant. Instead, you were pushed and prodded toward a closed window. A crowd of strangers filed outside around you, staring up at a cloud-filled sky. Particles of grey and white snowed down on the parking lot of the high school gym.

“Is that snow?”

“I think it’s ash.” 

“Like Mount Vesuvius?”

“I didn’t even know Hawkins was on a fault line.”

You looked around for a familiar face, panic crawling up your chest.

Vickie stood an arm’s length away, and you rushed to her side, tugging on her sleeve. “We need to get out of here.” 

“Steve!” A kid with curly hair limped over to the couple posted up beside your best friend. You noticed Vickie was watching a freckled blonde girl exchange concerned looks with the handsome brunette beside her.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” the handsome man copycatted you, tugging on the arm of the blonde girl beside him. 

“Robin, where are you guys going?” Vickie asked, taking the girl’s other hand in her own. A bloom of jealousy radiated through you, of interest, while the panic rose higher behind your sternum. 

Robin made eyes with the two boys beside her, an unspoken conversation between them. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Vickie prodded, stepping into their little circle to face her friend. 

Once again, the girl made eyes at the boy beside her, and you watched him roll his eyes before grabbing the younger boy and leading him out the door. 

“Come on,” Robin gripped Vickie’s hand tighter and yanked her out across the lot after them. 

“Wait, Vic!” You chased after your best friend, and this crew she’d acquired in the last hour or so since you left her at the sandwich counter. “Where are you going?” 

You all halted at a burgundy BMW, and the driver held a hand up to stop you from joining. He was taller than you, broader, but couldn’t be any older, and something about his air of authority had you prickling.

“This is my best friend,” Vickie introduced, climbing into the car beside Robin. 

The boy ran a hand down his face and opened the back door for you. “Get in.”

You did as instructed, but yanked the door from his grasp to slam it, satisfied at the look of frustration across his pretty boy features. 

“I’m Robin,” the freckled girl reached across Vickie to introduce herself, and you shook her hand before eyeing your best friend. Vickie’s face had nearly turned violet in embarrassment. “This is Steve and Dustin.” 

Steve didn’t have the capacity to greet you properly as he peeled out of his parking spot and sped away from the growing crowd. 

You hung onto the headrest to stop from slamming into your friend beside you, and grit your teeth. “Great, can someone please tell me where we’re going?” 

Dustin turned to face you, black ichor spilling from between braced teeth in a menacing grimace. His eyes were a pale, cloudy blue. “Didn’t you know? This is the road to Hell.” 

The landscape around you flickered in greyscale. The crowd disappeared and was replaced by rotting buildings, fallen trees, a city on fire.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the flower-faced panic monster rearing its ugly head, clawed its way through your esophagus, breathing fire and sputtering blood, and you choked on your scream. “Vickie!” 

You climbed the final hill in front of her childhood home. The pale yellow facade had peeling paint, fire having ripped through it months earlier. You were out of breath, had been chasing her for hours according to the watch on your wrist. Sweat clung to the base of your skull, and the straps of your flamethrower pinched at the skin of your shoulders. You cried out for your best friend again. 

Something loud banged on the other side of the garage door, startling you, and you swung your weapon that direction. The door shook on its rails , hinges rattling violently. You sidestepped to see the side door, ready to fire when Vickie appeared in the side yard. 

“Listen!” She called out, waving her arms over her head.

“To what?” You frowned. “Where the Hell have you been?” 

“Bonnie Tyler,” she pointed upward. She seemed rushed, crossing the yard to peel part of the chain link from the fence to block the garage side door. She hummed the tune as she worked, and you took a few steps closer to her before you heard it. 

It was a little distorted, tune a little wonky, a little muted. You looked around for a cassette player, wondered if the car was playing it in the garage. 

“It’s Steve. He’s trying to pull you out of this, and it’s getting harder to fight Vecna off, so I’m going to need you to snap out of it and wake the Hell up.” Vickie stated, irritated as she grabbed a patio chair and dragged it to the door. 

The garage shook again, a pound to the door that had the entire building trembling on its foundations. That spot behind your shoulder blade tickled, a chill down your spine, and the pieces all fell into place. 

“Look,” Vickie pointed to the skyline above the woods, and when you turned, you saw a split in the clouds. Greyscale had poured pale yellow onto the canvas and you were watching yourself, catatonic and limp in the arms of Steve Harrington. Large hands were pressed to your cheeks, wrapped around your waist, his body pressed to yours, warm and hard, and there was panic in his eyes as he shouted words you couldn’t hear over the music. Hopper and Owens stood nearby. Several soldiers and Eddie were behind them. 

“Now wake up, damnit,” Vickie shook your shoulder, shoved you their direction. You stumbled two steps. 

“Wait,” you halted and grabbed her wrist, tiny, pulse warm in your hand. “Not without you.” 

“Yes, without me!” Her body was against the door now, the building rattling at her back. “I’ve spent a year holding him back, I can handle him for a little bit longer.” 

You shook your head, the music growing louder against your skull, somewhere just behind your ears. “I don’t understand.” You shouted over it. 

“I told you I’d never leave you,” she bit down on her bottom lip, eyes fierce. “I’m sorry he piggybacked, but now you know he’s here, and you have to get him out. You have the help I never got. Take advantage of that.” The door banged harder, and she slipped before regaining her strength. “Go.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” You screamed, the music all-encompassing, rhythm of the knocks on the garage against the beat of the track on loop. 

“He’s weak, but he gains strength in your subconscious when you sleep.” She explained, eyes closed in her attempt to keep him out. “Destroy the Ether. I think he - oof -” A particularly large hit sent her flying, and you took her place, holding the handle closed tight as it turned in your hand. 

She stood, knees bloodied, and took it from your hands. “Go! I can’t hold him much longer.” She shoved you back in the direction of the clouds. 

You felt conflicted, rooted to the spot as you watched your best friend struggle.

She made eye contact with you, eyes blurred with tears, and she grit her teeth before she screamed, “GO!” Her visage flashed fiery red, a ghost of her former self, the screaming face of a loved one charred and burned.

You reached out for her before you felt yourself thrust off your feet, yanked backwards by your spine. The forces around you, the pulsating of music in your skull, the scream that ripped from your chest to mirror her own, caught you spiraling into blackness, falling, falling, falling through a never-ending abyss. Arms and legs flailed, and you gained speed as you neared the bottom, music so loud you could no longer make out the words, and then you hit bottom.

Warmth flooded your senses, a stuffy heat that clung the fabric of your clothes to your skin and stifled your lungs which fought to catch a breath. Your eyes flew open to find two big, brown eyes and a crumpled brow. The smell of sweat and steam and cigarette smoke filled your nostrils, and every square inch of you was hyper aware of the hand on your waist, your cheek, the abdomen pressed to your own. 

“Are you here? Are you okay?” Steve’s sweet voice croaked, just under the volume of Bonnie Tyler on overhead speakers, and you crashed into him, burying your face in his throat as reality broke and you realized you were alive, and he was there to keep you safe. 

You felt his arms snake around you while your body wracked with sobs, and lips to your temple as he comforted you with soft hums of reassurance. The sounds of soldiers filing in replaced the music and the ringing in your ears. 

—

The coffee in your cup didn’t stay still long enough to see your reflection. Your hands trembled, or maybe they were jittery, and the glare from the fluorescents stung in your skull like a migraine. You sipped, lukewarm and a bit burnt, and wrapped the blanket tighter around your shoulders. 

“So what? You stay awake forever? This isn’t sustainable,” Steve argued, arms crossed over his chest as he sat propped on the table across from your hospital bed. 

You rolled your eyes and continued to drink.

“No, it isn’t,” Owens agreed, face stuck in the pitying frown you possibly had never seen him without. 

“So we need a solution,” Hopper grumbled. Your nurse pulled his cigarette from between his lips and slipped it back into his pocket before scribbling stats onto her charts. 

“I feel like it’s pretty obvious,” you said, trying to ignore the fear that rocketed through you. “We nuke it all. Ether goes to Hell with me inside.” Destroy the host, destroy the parasite.

“No.” 

“Absolutely not.” Steve and Eddie snapped in unison. Eddie was seated at your bedside, knuckles gripping his walker so hard you thought it might snap.

You closed your eyes, steadied your breath. “I appreciate that you want to protect me, but let’s be realistic here. We don’t have any other plans, and if he latched onto Vickie and then onto me when she died, it seems like I need to take care of this.”

“You’re right,” Nancy said from her seat beside Steve. His jaw ticked, and you avoided his glare. “We don’t have any other plans, but we can’t just nuke the Upside Down.”

“The infrastructure doesn’t support that. We blow the place up, the entire Midwest could crumble into the Earth.” Hopper rubbed at tired eyes.

“We shouldn’t make our plans in front of you,” Eddie grit his teeth, his good leg bouncing. “He can hear and see everything you can. He’s in you, but he’s in all of them too.” 

You could feel them: claws and teeth and bloodlust. A shiver wracked through you, that breath of cold air to the base of your skull.

“He’s right. We can’t risk an ambush walking in there.”

Something firm in Nancy’s voice had your heart pounding, that panic clawing its way up and out. Control was swiftly being removed from your reach, one way or the other. “We don’t know that.”

“That’s what he does,” Eddie’s voice matched Nancy’s. He ran a tired hand down his face. “He listens to you, knows your every thought. He listens to the people you care about the most, and then he hurts them. He makes you hurt them.”

You reached a hand to his, but he recoiled from your grasp. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and you saw fear in those big, brown eyes. Eddie was terrified. You swallowed back the emotion that rose in your chest and replaced your trembling hand to your coffee cup. “If you can’t discuss plans with me in the room, can I be dismissed to my quarters?”

Sighs were exchanged all around you. Owens looked over your vital chart, and you watched him make eyes at Hopper. Hopper scratched the mustache on his upper lip and nodded.

“No leaving the compound, and for now, no sleeping.”

“I’ll go with you,” Steve stood from his lean, arms out to help you off of the hospital bed as a nurse went about unplugging you from the beeping machines.

“Harrington, we’re going to need you and the full Scorch team. Munson, you too.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve gestured your direction. “She wants to nuke the Ether with herself inside it. We can’t trust her to be by herself.” 

His words rang true, but you couldn’t help the sting of betrayal that settled somewhere within you. 

“She won’t be alone.” Hopper said, flashing you a smile that filled your with an equal amount of unease.

—

The steady ba-dunk ba-dunk ba-dunk of a tennis ball against hard wood flooring echoed your heartbeat. Over-caffeinated, the tips of your fingers tingled, and your legs bounced in tandem as you sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Bob Marley, man. One Love.” Argyle slammed the tennis ball against the ground beside you, and it bounced and hit the concrete wall. You caught it on the rebound.

“Solid choice,” you nodded. Your mouth was dry, and the way adrenaline pumped through you felt the exact opposite of Argyle’s chill demeanor in a moment like this. He seemed entirely unbothered by the horrifying aberration attached to your psyche. 

He caught your throw. “Yeah, dude. That’s what it’s all about. We stick together, and he can’t win.”

You glanced up at the man beside you, long hair tucked back beneath a camouflage hat. He’d been dragged from his home, his life, the calm of slinging pizzas, and how he’d maintained the positive look on life, you’d never understand. 

“Did someone call a babysitter?” A voice called from behind you.

“Hey, Buckley, what’s your Vecna song?” Argyle called, tossing the tennis ball in the air a few times.

“Steve Miller Band, Joker, obviously,” Robin responded, shoes clacking against the hard wood upon her approach. You couldn’t face her immediately, catching that bit of flame in your periphery, but eventually she kicked at your knee with her toe, pulling your attention to the sad look in blue eyes. 

“Right on,” Argyle approved of her response. You knew it was a lie.

“You hungry?” Robin asked, extending her hand to help you up. 

With a sigh, you took her grasp and lifted yourself from the ground. Your stomach had growled at the mention of food, unable to keep anything down in the passing days in Quarantine. 

“Wish I could go with you, space cowboys, but I have a Scorch meeting to attend,” Argyle tapped at the watch on his wrist and tossed you the tennis ball. 

You caught the bright green fuzz and squeezed, offering him a wave. “Thanks for watching me.” 

The man crossed to you, enveloping you in a surprise hug, tight and warm. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you, bud.” He muttered into your ear before giving Robin a quick kiss to the forehead and exiting the small court. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you finally greeted Robin, adjusting the sweatshirt over your shoulders as you followed Argyle toward the hallway. 

She elbowed your side. “I don’t think you really get a say anymore.” 

You know she was teasing, but you’d been stewing for hours. Your jaw ached from being clenched, and your mind raced with your heartbeat of all the possibilities they could be discussing in their meetings a few floors up. You knew none of them would make the right call. “So I don’t have control over what’s going on in my subconscious, and I’m not allowed to make conscious decisions for myself either? How is that fair, Robin?”

“Sometimes life isn’t fair.” Her tone was ice-cold. The polar opposite of Argyle’s warmth, she stopped you dead in your tracks in the center of a dim hallway.

You half-expected her to grow a long claw, to be a part of this never-ending nightmare, but when you turned to face her, it was just Robin. It was just that beautiful woman that spent two years of her life loving your best friend for you to rip her away. 

“Vickie died for his cause, whether she meant to or not, she didn’t leave us a choice.” She said, fists clenching around the satchel strap across her chest.

Your own hands shook at your sides. 

“So, yes, we have to keep an eye on you, so you don’t run away and do the same thing.”

Light from the adjacent room cast in her soft yellows, the same, sickly pale that clung to the concrete walls of this cold building you’ve called your home for years now. Now it felt like a prison, and Robin a well-dressed guard. 

“Robin…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The hurt in her eyes struck you like wind on a crisp day, sucking the air from your lungs. 

“What happens if you die like Vickie, huh? Then Steve gets flayed? Eddie? What was your plan?”

You grit your teeth at the accusations, clenched your fists. “You know I’d never hurt them.” 

“I know,” she snapped, like you’d been the insinuator, “but you have to consider the consequences of hiding this from the world until you burst and Vecna himself comes slithering out in the form of a giant flesh monster.”

Another chill wracked through you, familiar, a buzz at the base of your skull. 

Robin took a few uneasy steps toward you. “Can he hear us?”

You swallowed, shrugged, though a tickle above your earlobe said yes, said absolutely, said speak.

Your friend crossed to you, and for a moment you thought she might avoid you, like Eddie had, but instead, she pressed a warm palm to your cheek. Her other hand reached for your fist at your side. Her blue eyes were fierce, steadfast, terrifying. “We are going to burn him out of you, and he’ll have to watch in agony as his world burns around him.”

Fear hung in her chest at your promise, settled right above the rapid beating of your heart, more fear than you’d ever felt in the Ether, staring down the barrel of a flamethrower at a monster, even in your nightmares.

Robin blinked, laughed back the emotion that threatened to spill. “Sorry, I just really love you, and I don’t want to imagine a world without you in it.”

This time, the emotion bubbled up your esophagus because you weren’t sure if she was talking to you or to Vickie.

She waved it off with another laugh, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. “Let’s go get lunch in the caf exactly like we used to, in a safe space where I don’t have to be the only one to keep my eyes on you. Sound good?”

You wanted to talk, to tell her Vickie loved her, to apologize again for all that you’d done. The feigned smile on her face told you she was done. You nodded.

“Good.” She linked your arms at the elbows and tugged you in the direction of the caf. 

—

Scalding water cascaded over the aches in your shoulders and back. You’d turned the faucet too high, steam enveloping the ladies’ locker room, but you needed it to hurt. You scrubbed yourself raw, wanting to rid yourself of the sweat and grime that had clung to your flesh in quarantine. You needed to wash it all off of you.

You kept your eyes trained on the cold, white tile ahead of you, on the in-laid shiny chrome knobs. If you closed your eyes, you’d see ice cold landscapes full of vines, you’d see the slam of garage door on its hinges, you’d see the terror and fury in Vickie’s eyes.

You grit your teeth and tipped your head back, allowing the water to pummel your brow, your cheeks, that surge ripping through your stomach, begging for air, but you lingered just a second longer, pushing through the guilt and pain and the need to scream. 

A door slammed, followed by the sound of heavy footfall, and you sputtered, stepping out of the spray to catch your breath.

“Where the Hell have you been!?” Harrington’s voice echoed against tile, his head and shoulders visible above the row of tiled stalls. 

Instinctively, you covered yourself and glanced throughout the room to find yourself alone. “Where does it look like I’ve been, Harrington?” You snapped, turning your back to him to rinse your front. 

“Robin said you’d be in your dorm. I’ve been looking for you for an hour.”

“I was taking some gym time. That okay with you, Warden?” You shot over your shoulder. 

His shoulders rose and fell, and he ran both hands through his hair. It stuck up at odd angles like he’d been doing that all day. His eyes were bloodshot, face already shiny from the steam that enveloped the room. “We were worried you ran off and did something stupid.” 

You scoffed. “Good to know I have your confidence.”

The sound of frustration that escaped him roiled in your stomach, unearthed something deep, something familiar. “That’s not…” 

You glanced over your shoulder again to watch him chew on his words. You couldn’t decide if he was searching for another retort or finding a way to hold it back, and it felt good. You delighted in the competition, in catching his tongue. Your friendship used to be this, a playful back-and-forth. 

“No, I get it, Harrington,” you turned under the water again, feeling the pressure weaken from prolonged use. You gargled water and spit it into the drain at your feet. “I can’t be trusted.”

“I didn’t say that.” He huffed.

“No, really,” you bit back the smirk that was beginning to tug at the corners of your mouth. “You never know when I could do something incredibly…” You slapped off the faucet and stepped out of the stall into the aisle to face him. “Foolish.” 

The end of your word fell from your mouth with a whisper when you caught the look on his face.

Harrington’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened, though they stay trained on your face. He stood ten, maybe twenty feet from you, hands to his hips, stance wide, shoulders square. 

Your entire body caught ablaze, cooler air pebbling every inch of you, but you couldn’t cower now, couldn’t shield yourself, exposed and raw in front of him. 

After a prolonged silence, the drip of the faucet against tile floors, he moved. With slow, measured strides, the squeak of rubber soles against wet tile, he closed the distance. 

You sucked in a breath and held it, the warmth of him flooding your senses all at once.

Maintaining eye contact, he reached beside you for your government grade towel, and it wasn’t until he held it out for you to take, did you notice the quick sweep of his eyes along your frame.

Your hands shook receiving the towel and covering your front, hoping to hide the burn in your cheeks with dry terry cloth as you dabbed at droplets on your nose. 

Harrington turned his back to you then, and you watched the red that crawled up his neck and to his ears from the collar of his shirt. “When I couldn’t find you,” he cleared his throat, brought his hands up to scratch at that little row of stitches starting to heal, “I panicked.”

You warmed at his confession, the tidal of an adrenaline rush crashing into something softer, waves along a shoreline. You dried your body and reached for the pile of clean clothes, slowly stepping into them. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, pulling the drawstring on your pants.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re in prison,” again, the soft tone to his voice sent a chill through you. 

You pulled a sweatshirt over your head and reached for him, pausing to stare at the back of him for a moment, broad shoulders and shaved neck, hair a mess on top. He seemed taller than you remembered, maybe it was the boots on his feet. Your fingers came into contact with the dip of his tricep, warm under pruned fingertips. 

He turned, and you felt yourself heat again at the quick one-over flick of his eyes before he met your gaze again. The honeyed brown was still dark, that crease in his brow remained, but you perceived the smallest uptick of the corners of his pink lips when he asked, “You hungry?”

—

Loneliness sunk in like a hot blade through butter. You ate dinner surrounded by friends, and you still felt sequestered, miles away. Maybe it was the exchanged looks on their faces, the pitying glances when they thought you weren’t looking or wouldn’t notice. Maybe it was the way they spoke of their shared future when this was all over, the one you weren’t sure you’d be there for. Something sliced right through you and cauterized the wound. 

Even as you climbed the spiral staircase, trailing two steps behind Harrington, the vacuous concrete loomed in ways you’d never experienced until now. The compound felt vast, a labyrinth of memories you’d rather not dwell on lest they be used against you in your subconscious. 

The prospect of stepping into your room and the door closing behind you had your heart racing. So when Steve held his own door open and nodded for you to join him, you didn’t argue. 

His room was warm and tidy and smelled of his aftershave. His sink was void of dishes, the little countertop holding various tubs and tubes of toothpaste and hair product. His bed was unmade, in a way that looked enticing, cozy, a clump of blankets bunched near the foot to expose the indentation of his frame. A few books were stacked on the bedside table near that secret pair of glasses he kept folded beneath a lamp. 

He crossed the room and turned on a little clock radio, shifting through the static until an unfamiliar pop crooner’s voice filled the little space. You wondered if this was a habit he’d always had, or if he thought it’d keep your parasite at bay.

Then, he opened his wardrobe to retrieve a matching sweatshirt to your own, pulling it over his head. He popped from the collar mussy haired and yawning. He caught his yawn in his hand before rubbing at tired eyes. He reached across the bed for his glasses and pushed them up the bridge of his nose, bleary eyed. 

You shifted on the balls of your feet, lingering just inside the threshold. 

He filled up a couple red plastic cups of water, checking the temperature on his hand first. He set them both on the rickety tabletop, gesturing for you to come join him, before he pulled a deck of cards from a nearby drawer full of pens and paper.

“Any - “ He stifled another yawn, shaking it off with a frown. “Sorry. Any good at Slap Jack?”

The circles under his eyes looked darker in this light, accentuating the yellowed bruise on his cheekbone you’d given him nearly a week earlier. His shoulders slumped, and his hair stood on end. He looked ragged, run through. 

You rolled your eyes. “Harrington, go to bed.” 

“What? No. I’m fine,” he shrugged you off, pulling out his seat to dump the deck into one hand. He began to shuffle, and you watched him with crossed arms. “Will you come sit down?” 

“When’s the last time you slept?” You asked, toeing out of your sneakers and leaving them at the door. 

You didn’t like the look he gave you. The last time you’d run into his room in the middle of the night, he was up and reading. That was nearly a month ago. Hairs prickled at the base of your skull.

Caught, he shrugged it off, kept shuffling. “Last night, whenever.” You knew he’d spent last night sneaking in to see you. 

You leaned forward and peeled the cards from his hands, straightening the deck before sliding it back into its box. 

He shot you an irritated look, crossing his arms over his chest.

You challenged his with a look of your own, tossing the cards back to the tabletop. 

Finally, he spoke, voice soft. “I can’t.” 

You swallowed. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer, only traced your frame with big brown eyes. 

Self-conscious, you adjusted your sweatshirt as it fell over your shoulders. The ribbed hems of your sleeves were frayed from use. A big yellow stain splotched the left side of your chest, source unknown and impossible to wash out. Now clean and dry, you were sure you looked only slightly less haggard than the man in front of you. 

“I’ll stay up with you,” he offered, a polite way of saying he was terrified of letting you fall asleep. 

You shook your head. “I won’t fall asleep.” It was a polite way of saying you were terrified too. “Besides, I don’t feel very safe knowing you’re running on fumes.”

You avoided his gaze by looking back around the space, finding some escape, some trick. You spotted the stack of books near his bedside, and crossed the tight space to pull The Shining from the middle of the stack.

Steve grumbled your name, rubbed at tired eyes from beneath the rims of his glasses. 

You lifted his pillow, floppier than your own, and propped it against the radiator he used as a headboard. Holding your breath, you climbed into his space on the bed, folding your legs in front of you and patting your lap. “C’mere.” 

He blinked back at you and didn’t move, sideways in his chair, rooted to the spot. 

You held your book aloft, flipping to a random page. “This book is terrifying. I’ll be too scared to sleep, but if I do…” You feigned sleep, a bit melodramatic, like you were acting a skit to convince a child, and you dropped the book into your lap. “It’ll wake you up.” 

You blinked one eye open to catch the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple. He scratched at the back of his neck. “You want me uh…” He pointed at your lap.

You warmed, wondered what the hell you were thinking, and licked your lips before you nodded. “Sure.” The word came out with a tight breath. 

Again, he didn’t move. He stared at his feet for a moment, as if willing them to pick themselves up, and then with a sigh, he reached to untie the laces of his boots before he stepped out of them. 

Your heart began to race, the steady drum behind your sternum that heated your chest, your throat, your cheeks. 

He stood, and took slow strides toward you, stopping at the foot of the bed. He scratched at his jaw again before mumbling, “Are you sure?” 

You nodded and shifted again, a vain attempt to become more comfortable, more accommodating. 

With a series of loud sighs, he fell to the mattress, the whole thing bouncing under his weight until he managed to crawl and roll his head into your lap. He hesitated to rest the full weight of his head on your thigh, so you placed a stiff hand to his shoulder to encourage him to relax. He was warm and heavy, but not uncomfortably so. 

“Want me to put your glasses up?” You asked, suddenly self-conscious about everything at this angle. 

“Hm? Oh.” He pulled the frames from his nose and folded them, placing them in your outstretched hand. 

You replaced them onto the beside table and adjusted your hips with a mumbled apology. 

Steve was too long for the bed, socked ankles and feet dangling off the far end. He still wore his tactical pants, all straps and pockets and buckles, and the collar of his sweatshirt scrunched up around his jaw. He sat up a little to pull his sweatshirt down and tried to settle to a softer part of your leg.

“Do you need a blanket?” You asked, tugging at the army green fleece. You hated how breathy you sounded, how your voice betrayed you every time. 

He shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m okay. Are you sure?”

You snorted, lifted the book high enough to hide your face, and said, “Harrington, go to sleep.” 

“Okay,” his skull rumbled against your thigh. “But if anything happens.” 

“I will happily smack you with this book,” you lifted it higher to glance back down at him. 

His eyes were closed, but the corner of his lips quirked upward. His eye lashes were so long, casting shadows on freckled cheeks, pinched rosy in the heat or embarrassment of your positions. 

You swallowed and flipped the book to the front page, lest he open his eyes again and catch you staring. You pretended to read until his head grew heavy, and the steady rise and fall of his chest came out in near imperceptible snores.

Despite the warmth emanating from him, something deep in the recesses of your mind reminded you how alone you now were. 

The radio remained on beside you, pop songs you’d let fade into the background. The clock told you it was late into the night, and the lack of sounds from the hall exemplified that. You wondered if anyone could hear you call for help.

You closed the book and added it to its stack, glancing around the room for signs it was real, that you were there and you weren’t alone. 

Harrington rolled, cheek to your thigh, breath fanned hot and wet against the soft cloth of your sweatpants. His fists unclenched from beneath his biceps, and he stretched one large hand under your calf. He was real, and he was there. 

He always had been, just as he promised. Late nights nose-to-nose, exchanging secrets and promises and breath had all come to this. He’d kept you as safe as he could, and you did the same. Every time you needed him, he’d appeared with strong arms wrapped around you, brow crumpled in concern.

In the past two years, you were sure you’d only seen him this relaxed, this content, once before. Careful not to wake him, you tucked his hair up and out of his face.

—

Eddie frowned over his white ceramic mug while he slurped.

The morning crowd had since dispersed, leaving the caf in silence, but at your over-caffeinated state, your mind was lost in a cacophony of sounds: the squeak of sneakers against the linoleum, the brush of a flat broom into a pile in the corner, the clang of dishes being washed somewhere in the back, the rattle of screws in the table leg as your leg bounced with reckless abandon. 

Eddie set his mug to the tabletop, the silver rings around his finger tinkling the bottom of the cup.

You wrapped your knuckles against the table, unable to stop moving, too overstimulated, too anxious, too much kinetic energy.

Eddie stared at your knuckles for a moment. You watched his jaw tick.

You shuddered and reached for your lukewarm cup of coffee. 

Eddie snatched it out of your fingers, and it tumbled to the table with a surprising bounce, casting brown liquid across orange tabletop. “Shit, sorry,” he grumbled, and stood to grab a wet rag from a nearby table to clean up the mess. 

“Munson, what the hell, dude?” Harrington stood and swiped coffee from the crotch of his pants. His chair groaned against chipped flooring, snagged on a lifted tile.

You reached out to grab the back before it went teetering to the floor.

“She’s tweaking out!” Eddie gestured to you, juices from the wet rag spattering your cheek. “Reminds me of my old man.” 

“Is that why you won’t even look at me?” You snapped, mopping your face with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

“No,” he pointed at you. “I won’t look at you because you’ve got a fucking monster living inside of you, and I’m sorry I can’t coddle you like Harrington does.” 

“Hey!” Harrington argued. You noticed his shoulders started to square in defense, stepping between you.

“No, dude, fuck off. I don’t want to hear it. She doesn’t need you to be her knight and shining armor. It’s not that deep.” Eddie waved him off with the shake of his head, curls falling over slumped shoulders. He gripped his walker and looked directly at you. 

“You can’t seem to understand that your shit affects the people around you too. We can talk once you’ve figured that out.” He pushed off from the table, and you heard the squeak of rubber pads against flooring as he left.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but you tugged on the elbow of his sweatshirt until he stepped aside. He frowned down at you, obstinate, but you placed a hand to his chest, and he seemed to soften.

“He’s right,” you said.

“Doesn’t mean he has to be an asshole about it.” 

You shrugged, catching a snap of anger at unsuspecting recruits in the hallway. “We’re all on edge.” 

After another long moment, the crash of tin cans sounded, followed by a series of shouted curse words. A trash lid rolled by the caf double doors. You took a deep breath. 

“You’re the only one who understands what he’s gone through,” Steve muttered.

You hoped he felt the animosity in your expression. You hoped he couldn’t sense how your shoulders relaxed when he tugged at the elbow of your own sweatshirt. 

He nodded toward the hallway. “Go talk to Munson. He’s been really shit in the War Room, and I think it’s because he’s worried about you.” 

You groaned, stamped your feet, but slowly let them carry out away from the smell of stale coffee and cleaning chemicals. 

You found him a few floors up. He’d taken the elevator to the offices, and had settled into a rolling chair behind an oversized desk that would have been reception at a busier time. He looked up as you entered, rolled his eyes, and leaned back with arms crossed over his slender chest. 

“Hey,” you crossed your arms over your own chest, a challenge. You stopped a few feet from the desk. You could hear Hopper’s mumble just beyond a dented steel door down the hall. 

“Hello,” Eddie countered. “What do you want?”

“Apparently my shit affects the people around me.”

He didn’t smile at that. Instead, he sighed and adjusted himself on the chair. The gears squeaked under his weight. 

You grit your teeth through any need to keep pushing his buttons and rubbed at exhausted eyes before you took a few steps forward to the front panel of the desk. You leaned over it, two fists to the tabletop, and muttered. “His plan is to keep reminding me that I’ve murdered everyone who ever loved me. Why perpetuate that by letting me think you hate me too?”

“Shit,” he grumbled and pawed at his own face, scrubbing at the stubble that had grown on his chin. He looked about as rough as you all had, and you knew he hadn’t slept the night before either. “I don’t hate you,” he hissed, though he did back the chair up a few more feet until he hit the wall. 

“I know,” you stood back up. “I just wanted to make you feel shitty for ignoring me for the past two days. You know, I’d feel a lot less hopeless about my fate if the one person who knew what I was going through wasn’t, I don’t know, terrified of me?” 

His gaze softened, big brown eyes turned downward as he gnawed on the cuticle of a nail that you’re sure had been shredded. “It’s not you,” he said through his teeth. “It’s the other dickhead.” He gestured toward your head, but his eyes went somewhere far-off, somewhere full of beasts and burned woods and horror.

“He can’t get you, Eds,” you shrugged off the sharp pain in your shoulder, the gnawing at your spinal cord.

“You don’t know that,” he whispered.

Another sting strung through you, like fingers plucking your strings, and you closed your eyes through the pain, pushed through. “How did you get out of it before? This… mindfuck, how did you escape it?”

Eddie shrugged, shook out his curls. “I don’t know.”

Panic at the familiarity of having questions unanswered began to claw at your insides, and you snapped, slamming your hands back down onto the table. “Don’t bullshit me, Munson. You guys are plotting how to get this parasite out of me. You won’t let me sleep. I need to be babysat at all times by people who are afraid of me. I’m not a child! Teach me how to defend myself against this.”

“What in the Hell is going on out here?” A gruff shout preceded the creak of a door on its hinges, the stomping of boots from down the hall. When Hopper caught sight of you both, his shoulders relaxed in a sigh.

“We’re just screaming about our impending doom,” Eddie explained, that sardonic grin spreading across his features. 

Hopper made eye contact with you and cocked a brow, frown-unmoved by Munson’s sarcasm. “You okay?” 

You shrugged, shoved your hands in your pants pockets. “You guys figure out how to get this asshole out of me yet?” 

Hop made eyes at your best friend, and the two of them exchanged cryptic glances before he said, “Working on it. Is there a reason you’re fighting outside my office?” 

Eddie looked at you, and you thought he was expecting an answer until his smile fell, and you watched the sadness pierce his brown eyes. “No, sir,” he said, “I was just coming to ask how soon we could get back into the War Room.” 

The old man looked between you two again. “Twenty minutes sound good?” 

Eddie sighed, rubbing at tired eyes. “Better make it thirty.”

With a salute, Hopper turned and walked back to his office, floor squeaking beneath his feet. 

Eddie pulled himself off his chair and started making his way back toward the elevators. You gave him a wide berth, until he gestured for you to catch up, and you did so tentatively. 

The doors buzzed open when the lift arrived, and you both stepped inside. It quaked a little under your combined weight, but managed to start its ascent the moment the doors closed again. The mechanics whirred a little, and the little box smelled of hot metal. 

“Dustin sang to me.” Munson broke the silence. His hand was trembling, rings clanging against the metal hand-hold of his walker. “I beat the ever-loving shit out of him. He almost died at my hands, and he was laying there, bloodied, face-swollen, and he started singing.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You remembered seeing Henderson afterward. You remember visiting him in the Med Bay, of seeing the pain everyone had suffered at the hands of this monster. “What did he sing?” 

Eddie snorted, rolled his eyes. “The Never-Ending Story theme.” 

The halt of the elevator stifled the chuckle you emitted at the image, and you reached a hand to hold the door open for your friend while he exited into a dark hallway.

“Yeah, it was so stupid, but all those little shits were there, and they were telling me stories about Hellfire,” he continued, pushing forward toward mid-morning light cast across pale yellow walls. “They remembered shit I’d forgotten about, and they talked about these characters like we were all there living it. Like we’d destroyed Lord Vecna with swords and axes and a slingshot.”

The mention of his name brought ice-cold to the warmth of your chest.

“So I think it was all of those memories. That’s what snapped me out of it: those weird ass kids and the stupid tabletop game we played after school.”

The idea itself was heartwarming, wholesome, and you ought to be inspired, happy even, that these kids managed to rescue your best friend from the brink. Somehow, the only thing that came to mind was a shock of red hair, black smoke, ash and char and agonizing screams.

“Stop,” Eddie stopped and reached out to grab your hand. “I know you’re thinking about Vickie right now, and you couldn’t have saved her. You didn’t know, and she didn’t know.”

His hand was warm, and a bit damp, and his eyes were fierce. 

“Think about all of the good times you had with her. Think about all the times I knocked on your door to find you two whispering and cackling. Think about all the fights we’ve gotten into about music. Think about Robin’s horrible taste in ice cream. Think about how good it feels to kiss Harrington. Think about how stupid Hopper looks without a mustache.” 

You laughed, a barked thing that stung at emotional-filled vocal chords, and batted at the grin that formed on his stupid face.

“Ow,” he chuckled, shoving you back, hard enough to have you stumbling backwards slightly, and he zoomed around a corner before you scrambled to catch-up, still chuckling.

Light poured in from adjacent windows, across the common area. The soft curls atop his head glowed in sunlight and warmth, and before you could stop yourself, you swung your arms tight around his slender waist and buried your face into the sweet sting of marijuana that lingered in his t-shirt.

He stumbled a little, tensed, but quickly relaxed into the embrace, folding his arms around you too. “We’re not going to let him win, damnit. Fucking promise me.” 

You grit your teeth and nodded, that uneasy pull settling into your shoulders like wings. “Promise.” 

—

Day slipped to night, and you watched pale yellow hallways burn orange and peach with the setting sun. Teams took turns chauffeuring you around the compound, keeping you company and keeping you caffeinated. You tried to keep Eddie’s words at heart, lingering on the smiles and laughter, and you were bid goodnight with hugs and high-fives in the common room just as Scorch was making their way to their respective dorms for the night.

You heard the whispers first, pulling yourself off a barstool to greet everyone with a smile that fell the moment you caught their gazes, their judgment, their disdain. 

Panic dug its claws into your chest. Each of your teammates passed with terror in their eyes until the last two squeezed themselves through the stairwell doorway. Harrington held the heavy steel door open to let Wheeler through.

She spotted you as the others had, jaw clenched, blue eyes fierce. Unlike the others, she crossed right to you. “We’re getting it figured out. You’ll be out of the dark soon, I promise. How’re you feeling?” 

“F-fine,” you swallowed, glanced over her shoulder at Harrington. He was staring at his feet, scratching that scar at the back of his skull. “Tired.” 

Nancy nodded, and glanced over her shoulder before dipping her own gaze to the ground. “Listen, I know I’ve never told you this, but I really admire you.”

Her words stirred something within you, that panic kicking back up again, all claws and teeth and gaping mouth. “What?” Your mouth felt dry. 

She looked up at you then, shrugged, the softest smile quirking at the corner of her bow lips. “You were an amazing team lead, and you had to make some horrific decisions, I can’t imagine…” She cut herself off, cleared her throat. “I just think you’re really brave.”

You managed to thank her, somehow, though you were stunned, and she bid you both a goodnight.

You stared at her back as she retreated, curly hair cascading over her petite shoulders. Even now, in the glow of an Exit sign, she stood tall, proud.

“C’,mon,” Harrington gestured for you to follow him, hands shoved into his pockets. He still hadn’t made eye contact with you, and the panic crawled on all-fours up your esophagus.

“Harrington,” you hissed, pulling your keys and lanyard from your pocket as he stopped beside you dorm room door.

“Can I come in?”

Your hands trembled unlocking your door. You room was stale, cold. You kicked off your shoes near the door and hung your key on its hook by the door. Harrington crossed to your radio to flick it on, static breaking through tracks until he found a station he was satisfied with.

“Harrington,” you hated the way your voice wavered, fear chattering your teeth. “You have to tell me if I’m going to die.” 

He looked up at you then, brow crumpled. “You know I won’t let that happen.” 

“You might not have a choice!”

“Stop saying that!” His volume matched yours, and his own fists shook at his sides, and his tone warmed you. 

That same excitement, the familiarity of a fight kicked up in your chest. You rolled your eyes. “Harrington…”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m sick of you saying you’re going to give up on me. I’ve put everything into keeping you alive, and you go and say shit like that and make it all feel meaningless?”

The excitement fluttered, wavered, burned out, a flame doused with water to drown it with reality. You swallowed, frowned, ground your molars until something ached in your jaw.

“I promised - ” 

“Cut the bullshit,” you snapped. “We all made promises to her, but she’s dead now, okay?” 

“I’m not talking about Vickie.” He cut you off again. 

Your ears rang in the silence of the room, the steady thump of your heartbeat, the in-and-out of your breath.

“I promised you,” his jaw tightened, “that night, in my room, when we fell asleep, you told me you were scared of all this, and that you couldn’t tell Vickie how scared you were because you had to be brave for her. Do you remember that?”

Secrets were exchanged nose-to-nose, mixing breath warm, gentle circles drawn with thumbs on bare thighs, promises made. 

“I told you I’d be brave for you. I promised I’d keep you safe.”

He had muttered the words to your forehead, soft lips to your brow as you dozed off, dreaming only of fire and ash. 

“I’m trying so hard to be brave here,” he stepped toward you painfully slow, the creak of boots against linoleum. “But it’s hard when I don’t know if I can keep you safe, and that scares me because I love you, and I’m not letting you go that easily.” 

The table separated you, a rickety excuse for a boundary that teetered under your touch. This was entirely new territory, an attack you hadn’t expected, were unsure how to navigate. You resorted to comfort.

“I didn’t ask you to be brave for me,” you scoffed, hand trembling against the back of a chair.

Harrington’s eyes remained on you, brow crumpled, less in anger now than something more fragile. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I said I’m in love with you.”

Your stomach swooped, heart clawing to get out with rapid beats, screaming in your ears. “I-I know.” You stammered.

“Do you…” He cleared his throat, fingertips tracing the tabletop dangerously close to your own. He licked his lips and watched you carefully, eyes hopeful. “How do you… I mean?” He gestured wildly, mouth quirking upward in panic.

You chewed back a laugh, something warm and familiar kicking back up. You managed to roll your eyes. “Yeah, Harrington, yes. You can calm down. I’ve been in love with you since I got into your stupid car.” 

“It’s not a competition,” he grumbled, stepping around the table to approach you. He was warm, brown eyes and upturned pink lips. 

“I’m not competing with you, I’m just telling you how I feel. I’m starting to think you’re the one obsessed with competition.” You were rambling, a nervous habit you must’ve picked up from your best friend, tongue running while your heart raced. 

“Will you shut up and let me kiss you?” He mumbled, lashes long and eyes dark. He cupped your face with one strong hand, tracing the curves of your face with his thumb. 

“Okay,” you breathed. Your eyes sunk closed at the pull of his nose against your own, the dip of his cupid’s bow to your own, and when his lips met yours, you could have melted into the floor.

His kiss was sweet, soft, the gentle press of his lips to your own while he cradled your face. When you separated, eyes fluttering open to see him hovering over you, that smile across his features, you found yourself hungry for more.

Gripping the shoulder seams of his t-shirt, you pulled him in for another go, took his gasp for air as an invitation to deepen the kiss. You tasted him, all tongues and teeth as you vied for dominance, and his free hand gripped the elastic waistband at your hip until the material was taut.

He kissed better than you remembered, a wash of warm and safety and heat and passion, but memory still begged for the feeling of your hands in his hair and his large, warm hands on you. 

He sucked in a breath when you scratched at his scalp, gently passing by the healing scar on your way to bury your fingers in the thick of his hair. He hummed into your lips, dropping his hand from your cheek to grip the other side of your sweatpants.

You groaned, tilting your head sideways to allow him to place damp kisses along the column of your throat. “Harrington, put your hands on me.”

He groaned, a rumble deep in his chest that coursed another wave of need through you. “You can use my first name, you know.” He nosed at your earlobe, smile evident in his voice.

“You have to earn it,” you bit back a smile, and yelped when his hands found your ribcage and pushed you up against your cabinets and countertop. The linoleum was cold against the small of your back, and your arms raised above your head for him to pull your sweatshirt up and over. 

He cupped your face again, crowding you with his oversized frame as he pressed himself into you. His lips were soft against yours, soft enough to make you feel vulnerable, taken off-guard. He kissed your cheek where it met your lips and the tip of your chin. He trailed warm, breathy kisses along the curve of your jaw, moving his hands to your shoulders until his lips met them there. 

You watched him, breathless, as his fingers pushed one strap of your tank top down, and you bit back a whimper as his lips replaced the strap at the juncture of your clavicle. 

His hands clutched at your waist band again, and he rocked his hips into yours, and you gasped at the friction of yourself against his hard length.

He pulled back, eyes dark, chest rising and falling rapidly, to gauge your reaction, and it was enough to have you clawing at his t-shirt again. He reached to pull it from the back of its collar, and you shrugged yourself out of your sweatpants, allowing the comfortable fabric to pool at the floor.

You lifted yourself onto the countertop and embraced the heat of his bare abdomen against you as he dove in for another passionate kiss. You clutched at the meat between his shoulder blades, delighting in the rumble of a groan as you dug your nails in and dragged to the base of his skull.

His hands were on you, finally, warm and strong and dexterous, worshiping your waist, your ribcage, your breasts.

You arched into his touch, gasping into his mouth, and he gripped your hips with one hand to pull you to the counter’s edge to grind himself into you again. Your body responded in kind to his touch, pliable.

You leaned your head against the upper cabinets, what few possessions that lived inside rattled.

He kissed your neck and chest, thumb pebbling your nipple, while his other hand massaged from your hip crease to your knee.

You clawed at the expanse of his chest, desperate for him to get closer, but delighting in the feel of his tongue against you until he stopped.

He pulled back, pulling his hand from beneath your shirt to rest on your hip while his other continued slow ministrations along your thigh. You watched as his fingertips ghosted the thick scarring there, five distinct claw marks from ribcage to knee, a part of you now you’d nearly forgotten, invisible under your own gaze. 

You swallowed, suddenly too warm, exposed. You ducked your head, eyeing the curves of him instead, the breadth of his chest, smattering of hair that covered his sternum and trailed down past his navel to disappear beneath his waistband. On either side of his ribs were scars that matched yours, purple and puckered and violent.

“You are brave,” he said, recapturing your focus, voice syrupy sweet, gaze dangerous. “You are beautiful.”

You sucked in a breath as his fingertips ghosted your inner thigh, a trickle of ticklish touches against the softest bits of you until you felt the sweet press of fingertips to your center. 

“Can I touch you?” He muttered. He licked his lips, eyes cast downward. 

“Yes,” you whined, gripping the countertop’s edge, “please.”

His forearm flexed as he moved your underwear to the side, and his thick fingers gathered the slick at your core to coat your folds. “Please who?” He asked.

You almost didn’t catch it, lost in the ecstasy of his touch, but you blinked to the forefront of your consciousness to see the cocky smirk stretched across his features. You bit back a smile and managed half an eye roll before he sunk two fingers into you, the perfect stretch. Your eyes slid closed, and you clung to his forearm, gasping his name. “Steve.”

“Uh uh,” he tutted, “don’t go away. Open your eyes, beautiful. Want to watch you.” 

Your eyes snapped back open, and his cheeks flushed in a wide smile.

“Good girl,” he nodded, and proceeded to take you apart with nimble fingers, watching you ride the wave until you came crashing down, digging your nails into his arms and stars scattered in your eyesight. 

He caught your lips in a sweet kiss, dropping your thigh from his hip with a squeeze. He chuckled as you caught your breath against his chest, spent, and nosed at your earlobe, planting a sweet kiss there too. 

“I hate you,” you grumbled, nipping at his clavicle to hide the smile stretched across your features. 

“Liar,” he countered, rumbling in a hearty laugh. 

“You’re awfully cocky,” you countered, reaching your hand to palm at his hardened length through his pants. 

He groaned and ground against your hand until your mouth watered. 

You gestured behind him, shoving at his shoulders until he gave you enough space to hop off the counter. The linoleum tiles were freezing beneath the balls of your feet. “Get on the bed.”

He stumbled backwards, the grin across his face possibly the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. 

You pulled your tank top from your head and tossed it to the growing clothes pile. “Take off your pants, boots too.” You stepped out of your underwear. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he sat on the foot of your bed to unlace his boots, before standing to frantically paw at the buckle of his belts before he worked his pants down his thick thighs. 

His movements were eager, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you met him where he stood. “Can I help?” You dipped your hand into the waistband of his underwear. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, arms stretched over his head before he pulled you in tight. “Full disclosure?” 

You hummed, wrapping your fingers around him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed your arm to stop your movements. When he looked at you again, he seemed scared. “It’s been like two years…”

You smiled, pulling your hand from his boxers before tugging them all the way down, cock springing free. With his pants around his ankles, you shoved your partner to the mattress, springs groaning under his weight, and you carefully climbed on top. 

“C’mere,” he grumbled, pulling you down to meet his lips in a warm kiss. He snaked his arms around you, large hands running over the curves of your back. “You’re perfect,” he said, squeezing the dips of your hips, rolling you into him. 

You shared lazy kisses and appreciated one another’s bodies with wandering hands and lips. You sat up, hands extended to his shoulders, his pecs, the ripple of abs that twitched with laughter under your fingertips. “Steve,” you whispered, an unfamiliar emotion sticking to your vocal cords.

He hummed, tilting his head to catch your gaze. His brow crumpled in concern. You felt so blessed to see him relaxed, comfortable, safe. 

“I love you.” The tears threatened to spill, and you held them back, holding his hands against your hip creases. “I love you, and I’m…” Scared, guilty, sad, grateful, heartbroken, fulfilled, home.

“Hey,” he reached a hand to catch your cheek. “I love you, and I promise I’m going to keep you safe.” 

You nodded, kissed the palm of his hand. You maintained his gaze, kissing his wrist, the tips of his fingers, before you centered yourself over him. 

He tangled his fingers in your own and nodded, biting down on his lower lip as you sunk down onto him. 

If you were fire, Steve was water, the sweet swell of calm emotions and tranquility. For every push, he offered soft kisses, for every pull, he hummed praises. You rode the wave through peaks and valleys, and he worshipped your peaks and valleys. He rolled you over, pressing you into the warm woolen fabric of your blanket, and washed over your in warmth and love and devotion. He was all hands and protection and licked kisses, the snap of hips and sweet confessions of love. 

Your body buzzed with overstimulation, aching muscles stretched taut and plied soft again, and you stared up at water-stained ceilings, your surroundings coming quickly back into focus. 

Steve kissed you, mouth sweet with you, and eyes heavy with exhaustion, both satisfied and well-spent. He moved the hair from his eyes, pushing it up and back until it stood on end, and he leaned on one arm to trace circle into your chest, pulling the covers up higher to cover his waist. “Hey,” he whispered, cupping your cheek in his face. “Where’d you go?” 

You blinked back at him, feigning a smile to quell the worry on his face. “You should get some sleep.” 

His face fell, and he glanced over your shoulder at the clock radio. The late night advertisements buzzed back into your periphery.

He rolled onto his back beside you, pulling you into his chest with an arm around you. He squeezed you in tight, pressing his lips to your hairline again and again and again. He felt stiff, the easiness of the last few hours wiped away with one question. 

Anxiety bloomed in your chest, flower-faced with rows and rows of razor sharp teeth, claws at the flesh that hid your sternum. 

Harrington cleared his throat, kissing you one last time before he muttered, “We should get dressed.”

---

[A/N: They're in love!? Who knew!? This chapter was really a labor of love for me, and I'm getting very emotional knowing the next chapter is the last one. This story has honestly meant so much to me. Thank you so much for reading xo]

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Five: Searing • Chapter Seven: Inferno

#wildfire fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington angst #rovickie #stranger things #steve harrington

[foodshowxyz]

Chocolate Log Cake with Melted Caramel and Chocolate Ganache

Ingredients 🍫 For the Chocolate Sponge:

4 large eggs

100g (1/2 cup) granulated sugar

65g (1/2 cup) all-purpose flour

30g (1/4 cup) cocoa powder

1 tsp baking powder

🍯 For the Caramel Filling:

200g (1 cup) sugar

90g (6 tbsp) butter

120ml (1/2 cup) heavy cream

Pinch of salt

🍫 For the Chocolate Ganache:

200g (1 cup) dark chocolate, chopped

200ml (3/4 cup) heavy cream

Preparation Time & Cook time Prep Time: 30 minutes Cook Time: 10 minutes (Sponge) + Cooling and Assembly: 1 hour Total Time: 1 hour 40 minutes

Estimated Calories and serving portion Calories: ~500 per slice (serves 8)

Instructions

Preheat your oven to 180°C (350°F). Line a 10x15 inch jelly roll pan with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, beat the eggs and sugar until thick and pale (about 5 minutes).

Sift in flour, cocoa powder, and baking powder, gently folding into the egg mixture.

Spread batter evenly onto the prepared pan. Bake for 10 minutes.

Once baked, immediately invert the cake onto a clean kitchen towel dusted with cocoa powder. Roll the cake with the towel from the short end. Cool completely.

For the caramel, heat sugar in a saucepan over medium heat, stirring until melted and amber. Add butter, stir until melted, then slowly drizzle in heavy cream, stirring constantly. Add a pinch of salt. Cool to room temperature.

Unroll the cake and spread the cooled caramel over it, leaving a small border.

Reroll the cake without the towel. Place on a wire rack over a baking sheet.

For the ganache, heat the cream until just boiling. Pour over chopped chocolate, let sit for 1 minute, then stir until smooth.

Pour the ganache over the cake, using a spatula to cover it completely.

Chill in the fridge for 30 minutes before serving.

#food #food pics #recipe #cake #foodshow #chocolate cake #homemade #dessert #food blogs #delicious #homestuck #welcome home #warm #foodie #foodpics #foodphotography #foodporn #baking #cooking #fruit #desserts #healthy food #so yummy #yummy mummy #yummy yum yum #Chocolate Log Cake with Melted Caramel and Chocolate Ganache

[rillils]

post fall bucky having a fear of heights?? ive always thought that he'd be afraid of heights, like he wasnt afraid of it at all before his fall, go ask steve. but after falling?? he tries to hide it from steve, how scared he is.. and steve, bless his poor soul, he blames himself for not realizing sooner, he thinks he shouldve known, he couldnt possibly have. hes always seen bucky as this brave courage man, and bucky didnt want to ruin steve's image of him worse than he already think he did. and oh my fucking god

THE POST PLANE CRASH STEVE BEING AFRAID OF TIGHT SPACES?? BECAUSE IT BRINGS HIM BACK TO FEELING THE COLD SEEP IN THROUGH HIS VERY BONES WHILE HE GETS CRUSHED BY ALL THE WATER, ICE, AND DEBRIS?? DONT GET ME STARTED OH MY GOD

HONEY I FEEL LIKE YOUR LEVEL OF CRUELTY TOWARDS ME SPECIFICALLY IS REACHING DANGEROUS LEVELS HERE

but I get it, I getchu hon, sometimes we just gotta put the blorbos in a Situation™, that's how we roll.

but holy shit 😭😭😭

I mean god, Bucky-

imagine how tough it must be for him, every time they're on a mission, 'cause he's first and foremost a sniper, isn't he? and for him, that often involves perching on the roof of really high buildings, and keeping as still as possible for as long as necessary - and above all, keeping a steady hand, because what is a sniper supposed to be if not precise and lethal and reliable?

and factor in all the other possible contingencies, too! like having to bolt if he's spotted by the enemy, and having to climb back down in a rush. or helping chase after the bad guys from rooftop to rooftop. or when, god forbid, they have to jump out of a plane and parachute themselves to a certain site.

it's an absolute nightmare for Bucky, but he just keeps trying to tough it out, right? grit his teeth, push through even when his flesh palm is clammy with sweat, even when his stomach is churning and his legs feel like jelly, even when his hands start shaking despite his best efforts to hold them still. it's scary and mortifying all at once, and he can't bring himself to say anything about it to anyone, especially to Steve. because he knows Steve would try to suggest he take it easy and stay behind, while Steve himself is out there risking his neck, and the very notion makes Bucky feel sick.

so he's just desperately hanging in there, right?

until something happens. he's dizzy, his hands are shaking too bad, he flubs a shot, Steve almost gets killed because of it. Bucky snaps. this is the last straw. he's done.

I mean, imagine how it must tear. him. apart. how horribly it must hurt him to admit to himself that he can't go on like this anymore. because on the one hand, fuck it all to hell, he's supposed to be by Steve's side! watch his six, protect him, make sure he makes it home in one piece! it's what Bucky's been doing ever since they were kids, it's a fundamental part of who he is! to even imagine letting Steve walk into a fight alone - no, not 'alone', without Bucky - is unthinkable. it's like denying himself a basic need. like denying who Bucky is, what he feels he was born to do, a biological imperative.

but. on the other hand, the thought of putting Steve in danger, of Steve getting hurt (or worse) because Bucky couldn't do his job properly, is even more unbearable.

Steve counts on him, trusts him with his life - as he should be able to do, if they're going to be a team - but how can Bucky allow that anymore, now that he can't even trust himself? how can he be what Steve needs, if he's going to let him down when Steve needs him the most? how would he ever forgive himself if something happened to Steve because of him?

he barely holds himself together until they get home, and then he just, he breaks down. stumbles over to the couch, crumples in on himself, trembling, pale like a ghost, taking in big gulps of air like he'll drown otherwise. telling a worried Steve, who's crouching next to him in a heartbeat, "I can't do this anymore".

now Steve, he had noticed that something was off for a while now, and Bucky's words just confirm what he already suspected. he thinks, of course Bucky's sick of this, of course he doesn't want to fight anymore - god knows he's got plenty of reasons to want to leave all this shit behind.

Steve could never imagine what the actual issue is, here - not until he's trying to tell Bucky that it's his right to retire if that's what he wants, that of course Steve supports him, and Bucky interrupts him to confess, in between sobs, where exactly the problem lies, and how he fears he's no longer fit to accompany Steve on missions, 'cause he'd risk becoming a liability rather than backup.

CUE A WHOLE SHITTON OF FEELS because fuck, how long has Bucky been feeling this way, and how did Steve not realize it sooner, and the way Steve's face twists with guilt when he wonders where this fear of heights might come from, and gives himself the most obvious amd most fucking heartbreaking answer, and Bucky can tell that he's hurting and blaming himself and they're just BOTH hurting and blaming themselves and hfgskfjskks HONEY WE'RE SPEEDRUNNING THROUGH ALL THE STAGES OF GRIEF HERE HELP

no, but. they're gonna have an honest conversation about this, okay? painful, yes, but also liberating. they're going to air out some of that hurt, and actually let it heal out in the open for once.

I figure there's gonna be lots of bargaining first, on both parts, like Bucky arguing that he could still fight, just maybe stick to the ground instead, and Steve telling him that he doesn't have to, and really he'd be happier knowing that Bucky's safe at home and not forcing himself into dangerous situations, and Bucky grumbling 'cause oh how the tables have turned, and just, you know, trying to find a way to compromise.

I think, maybe this is how Steve first starts to really, genuinely consider retiring, himself. like, not just picturing it in a distant, wistful way, oh wouldn't it be nice if we could do that, etc - but really, really entertaining the idea. letting himself plan it out. talking about it with Bucky, even with Sam and Nat, giving himself the chance to consider another kind of life. after all, there are plenty of battles to fight in the world, and not all of them require fists and guns, right? and if he can fight those battles too alongside Bucky, then so much the better 💖

CLAUSTROPHOBIC STEVE THOUGH OMG

somehow the first thing that comes to mind is that one scene from CATWS, when he and Nat find Zola's computerized ass and he blows up the building, and they're stuck in a tiny hole under all the rubble until Steve gets them both out. I CAN PICTURE ONLY TOO VIVIDLY HOW FUCKING SCARY THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN FOR HIM, OH MY GOD

as somebody who shares that kind of phobia, may I submit to you one of the most obvious, most mundane monsters he might face: ELEVATORS. especially of the narrow, non-see through kind, where you're literally locked inside a metal box until it releases you from that torment. IF IT DOES. like honey the anxiety is real af okay

in the spirit of putting the blorbos in a Situation™, please picture them both in an old-fashioned elevator.

Steve hasn't mentioned his fear to Bucky, he's just been lucky so far, so he didn't have to bring it up. but the stupid thing is so slow, and the space inside is so small, and sure, Steve never minded being in Bucky's close proximity, but he can't stop thinking about getting the fuck out of there asap.

at some point the fucking thing stops, and oh good god they're stuck inside, and it's gonna take a while for help to come.

and Bucky, sweet, horny, unsuspecting Bucky, just makes a little joke about knowing just how they could pass the time until then, wink wink. he crowds Steve back against the already narrow wall, starts sucking languid kisses into Steve's neck-- and Steve's frozen, breathing in quick shallow breaths that could be mistaken for gasps of pleasure, holding onto Bucky with an iron grip because he can feel himself spiraling into panic, heart racing wildly, eyes darting from wall to wall like he can see them rapidly closing in on him, suffocating him, squeezing him in--

and it takes a moment for Bucky to realize what's really going on, but when he pulls back and sees Steve so terrified, hyperventilating and about ten seconds away from passing out, he switches into Protective Boyfriend mode like *snaps fingers*

he's like, "sweetheart, what's wrong?", and the second Steve gasps "out, I need to get outta here, now", Bucky springs into action and pries the elevator's door open with his bare hands, helping Steve climb out (the next floor was already into view) and following suit.

of course they're gonna talk about it (and realize that they should maybe stop hiding their respective fears from each other), and from then on... yep, they stick to stairs <3

#stucky just stucky #stucky #this got long i'm so sorry #also #i really wanted to scribble a little thing about this - either headcanon or possibly even both - like a decent-looking fic you know #but the braincell refused to cooperate :'( #either way HONEY I LOVE YOU EVEN WHEN YOU MAKE ME AND THE BOYS SUFFER LIKE THIS #*SCREECHES* #i hope the read-more works ahsdjkshdkjsh

[heartstringsduet]

Here's something to celebrate WIP Wednesday with some extra love and extra pink header. This is from First Aid. Happy Valentine's <3 nsfw.

“Look at you,” Carlos breathes, taking a moment to rub both hands on TK’s thighs, so close to where he knows TK wants them - but not quite.

“Less looking, more fucking, please.”

Carlos huffs. “Who’s the poet now?”

TK rolls his eyes and brings his hand to Carlos’ crotch, making him hiss out in surprise. “I’ll think of a sonnet while you finger me.”

The lube clicks loudly, and in his haste Carlos squeezes too much of it onto his fingers. He doesn’t take his time to warm it either. TK clamps tightly around his index finger he drives in and spreads his legs further. 

“I’d like to see you try to do more than moan,” Carlos says, before bringing his mouth back to TK’s c*ck and curling his finger. A high pitched whine leaves TK’s mouth like he means to prove Carlos right.

By the time a second finger strokes into him, TK has his legs curled over Carlos’ shoulders and his hands buried in his hair. Any words are garbled under slow puffs of air and his broken off directions, urging Carlos on further. Carlos' own hand has opened the zipper of his jeans, his feet kicking them off the rest of the way, and then he strokes his cock in time with the bob of his own head.

Swallowing around the salty skin, Carlos languidly draws back up, his lips smacking with an obscene sound.

“You like that, hm?”

“Y-yes,” TK moans. "And you know it!"

There’s nothing like watching TK arch his back when Carlos’ fingers drill into his prostate. It’s a shame that Carlos also wants the weight and heat and taste on his tongue back, so after getting his fill, he goes down on his c*ck again.

“I- ah ah , I’m good. Fuck me,” TK purrs.

It doesn’t deter Carlos. He still pumps in three fingers, drinking in the mewling noises spilling into the kitchen air and relishing in the tight tug on his curls. They’ve done all this before, but nothing has ever managed to reach so fully into Carlos’ heart and make it pump like a hand is squeezing around it.

“Ca-Carlos, I need you!” It’s a demand, a whole instruction.

Following it means drawing away, means swallowing pre-come and saliva and gasping for air. It also means seeing all of TK again, the pale skin flushed and his ribcage heaving up and down and it floods Carlos with a sudden urge to [redacted].

He clamps his teeth around it and focuses on ripping the condom open. TK’s legs fall away and before Carlos has time to understand, TK sits up and slides closer.

Open Tag &

@carlos-tk @carlos-in-glasses @louis-ii-reyes-strand @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @birdclowns @inkweedandlizards @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafe @thebumblecee @goodways @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @ambiguouspenny @freneticfloetry @alrightbuckaroo @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @lightningboltreader @decafdino @liminalmemories21 @paperstorm @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @sznofthesticks @noxsoulmate @kiwichaeng @ladytessa74 @lemonlyman-dotcom @theghostofashton @never-blooms @herefortarlos

#tarlos fic #wip wednesday #first aid #michelle writes #this is what friends do for friends on valentine's right???

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

(transfem top x ambiguous gender pov bottom, woundfucking smut, do not read if you are underage. trigger list will be in the first reply.)

the girl you've been talking to online turns out to be local. not too surprising since your city is so major compared to some of the other ones left, but still good news. you had plans to meet up tonight at a bar near her place and are almost ready when she sends you this text:

sorry have 2 cancel bc work running late. i work from home tho so if u want 2 come over i can send the address

you agree and she gives you the address to her apartment. she says the door will be unlocked when you get there so let yourself in. you send her a thumbs up and head over. her apartment building is very poorly designed - the only door into her place is accessible from the third landing of a rusted fire escape. you let yourself in after verifying that you have the right unit number. immediately after opening the door you are struck by the scent of blood and sweat, as well as other smells you can't immediately put names to and the humming of what sounds like a loud fan. she calls out from another room. she says hey. she says shut the door. you do. she says sorry i cant greet you im in the living room and cant move. you say thats ok and head towards her voice. the scent gets worse as you head through the door into her living room.

on top of the dirtiest sofa you've ever seen lies a man you do not know. he appears to be asleep, though with the state he's in it's difficult to tell. he has no legs, and no bandages covering the bloody stumps where they once were. the legs that previously WERE attached are sitting on the ground in a heap, along with his similarly detached arms. his chest cavity is open, and his ribs are unfolded. various tubes lead out of the open cavity. some of them are made of plastic and lead to what appear to be bags of saline, blood, and a strange machine with vents along the top that whirs loudly, the source of the noise you heard before. others are made of flesh, their shape and size similar to how you imagine intestines look, and they connect to several of the man's organs, which are currently stowed on a three-tiered rolling metal cart.

on the middle shelf is a jar of neon blue liquid, inside of which his heart sits, still beating thanks to live electrical wires leading to what appears to be a gutted and repurposed chunky plastic kid's electric piano. his lungs hang off of a hook on the side, inflating and deflating in a shuddering motion that is not at all what you expected breathing to look like. the middle shelf also holds his kidneys, one of which has been disconnected and sits in a pool of blood on the bare shelf. the other is in a jar of what seems to be some sort of clear jelly. the bottom shelf holds a concerning pile of viscera, none of it connected to the man. you pick out his stomach and intestines easily enough, but the offwhite translucent fatty mass that clings to the intestines and the sad grey sac included in the mix are foreign to you. the top shelf holds several organs you don't recognize as well - a yellowish-gray waxy lump in a vaguely phallic shape and a small red orb , both of which are suspended in the same jar of pale yellowish fluid and appear to connect back to the same fleshy duct. they twitch occasionally, but are otherwise motionless. another top shelf organ you identify as the liver. it has no special setup, simply laying flat on the shelf, but is nonetheless connected in several places and seems to be functioning normally, especially as you can see some sort of dirty yellow-brown liquid dripping out of it through a plastic tube and into a large, clear bottle that you're pretty sure was a mayo bottle at some point in its past. finally, two large cooking pots are gently simmering over a large camping stove, connected to the rest of the mess of tubes, ducts, veins, and flesh. one of the pots has a lid on, leaving you unable to see what's inside of it. the other is about half-full of an off-white, slightly meaty substance.

in the center of the mess sits the girl you're here to see. you've exchanged both lewd and non-lewd images before, so you recognize her well enough, though you haven't seen her in these clothes before. if you can call them that. she's wearing simple black panties, a pair of light grey ankle-height socks, a deeply stained apron with a heart and a KISS THE COOK on it (though somebody has taken a maroon fabric marker, crossed out COOK, and written SURGEON below it), a pair of yellow rubber dishwashing gloves, and nothing else. her legs have a thin covering of hair, as if she shaved four or five days ago and it's starting to grow back but she hasn't had the energy to shave it again. her wavy blond hair is unkempt, and she makes no effort to tie it back. this is somewhat concerning, as she currently sits hunched over the dismembered man on the couch, her hands inside of his open body cavity. her hair hangs around her face, the ends of it matted and dirty with blood and other fluids.

the man you thought was either sleeping or dead opens his eyes and turns to look at you, silent, a look of blank curiosity on his face.

she stands and turns to you. she looks like she hasn't slept in five weeks. there are track marks on her left arm. she extends a blood-soaked glove for you to shake. you take it, dazed. she says hey, nice to finally meet you in person. im riley. doctor riley grace davis MDE. you say nice to meet you too. she says sorry that theres not space on the sofa here. when she draws her hand back to gesture you wipe the blood off on your pants as best you can. she says do you want to sit at the kitchen table or go straight to the bedroom? you say um. you say sorry if this is rude but who is that? she says one of my clients. you say clients? she says yeah. you both look at each other for a moment. you say uh, sorry, what is it you do exactly? she says did it never come up? you say no. she says oh. she says sorry im used to people having heard of me, guess i forgot to mention. you say its fine. she says im a plastic surgeon.

you glance at the man with his organs spread out across the cart. you say that looks like a little bit more than plastic surgery. she says im very talented. you say isn't plastic surgery minimally invasive? im very talented, she repeats. come on into the kitchen, she says, turning to lead the way. you say uh, is it okay to leave him like that? she says yeah. you say isnt he going to bleed out? she says trust me, i'm a doctor. as she heads through the door she reaches one gloved hand to tap a frame on the wall. a smudge of blood is left behind on the glass. you look at the frame.

The assembled medical staff, Thinker-class parahumans, and administrative staff of the Parahuman Response Team East-Northeast, in cooperation with the governance of New Brockton on Earth Gimel, confer on RILEY GRACE DAVIS-LAVERE the degree of MEDICAL DOCTORATE EQUIVALENCY for recognition of medical knowledge and talent conferred by a parahuman ability, evaluated and classified as Tinker 8, as well as for the demonstration of excellence in prior practice of medicine and the use of that parahuman ability to complete an assessment of medical knowledge and talent agreed upon by PRT staff.

you follow her into the kitchen. in the time it took you to read her doctorate, she has apparently doffed both the apron and the gloves, which now sit on a pile in the floor. she holds out a bottle to you as you join her at the table. it's a green glass bottle with no label. what is this, you ask. beer she says. she says i made it myself. you take a terrified sip. it tastes amazing.

you are acutely aware of the fact that she is now topless. my eyes are up here she says. you say sorry, but she's grinning lecherously. she says you like'em that much? you say honestly i was stuck on how different you look from your pictures. she says wow, rude. you say i didn't mean it like that. she says how did you mean it? you take a second to collect your thoughts. you say your boobs are at least 50% larger in person. she says puberty is a magical thing. you say puberty? she says yup. you say how old are you? she says don't you know how to talk to a lady? you say absolutely nothing about this visit has led me to believe you're a lady. she laughs. you have no idea how to label the sound of her laugh in your mind. it would almost be a cackle if it didn't degenerate into a giggle. she says you wanna know how old i am? you say yes. she says me too, kid. you say what year were you born? she says 1998. you say okay, so- she raises a finger to stop you from talking. she drains her beer, then slams it down and starts talking very fast.

born in 1998, triggered and stopped aging mentally in 2005, went on puberty blockers in 2010, started aging mentally again in 2011, went off puberty blockers in 2012, undid my puberty and went back ON puberty blockers in 2013, then all of my self-modifications were undone also in 2013, and i dont know what else in my body changed at the same time, went off puberty blockers again in 2014, or 1 GM if you use that calendar, i dont because thats stupid but just in case, aged fairly normally until 2023, then undid my puberty again because i was scared, aged normally until 2029, and from then on my Amy and i have theseus shipped me about twenty times over because staying the same is boring. so yeah. the paperwork says i'm 38, let's go with that.

you dont know how to respond to that. to any of that. she gets up and says sorry, ill be back in a second. she leaves the room. you take another sip of the beer. you don't like beer. how the fuck does this taste so good? you glance around the kitchen a bit, not getting up. it's clean in the sort of way that indicates it doesn't see much use. the only thing that has clearly been used frequently is the microwave, which you can tell from here has probably never been cleaned since she bought it. at least the lack of mess means there's probably no mouse, rat, or ant problem. in here, at least. you vaguely wonder if the bloody, dying man in the other room would attract vermin.

she returns, shrugging on a filthy grey hooded sweatshirt and carrying a small case. she says sorry, room gets cold as balls sometimes. dont usually notice it while im working. she grabs another beer out of the fridge, then sits down and pulls a rolled cigarette out of the case. she pulls an old zippo out of the sweatshirt's front pocket, lights it, and starts puffing. it doesn't smell like nicotine or marijuana. want one, she asks. you say what are they. she says salvia mostly. she says bit of kratom to mellow it, but mostly salvia. are those safe to use together you ask. especially while drinking. she pauses. she says fuck, iunno. id hardly notice at this point if i started to OD. pretty sure im good enough to fix it if i do. fix it you ask. she says yeah. how you ask. she says im a doctor. damn good one too, she says. you say arent you a plastic surgeon. she says im a lot of things.

she says sure you don't want it? you seem tense. you say uh, ive never really been high before, don't want to start with untested interactions, no offense. she says none taken. she says youre drinking, though, that counts. you say im drinking but ive never really been drunk. she says wanna fix that? you say im good. she says good. she says being drunk sucks. she says worst depressant there is, just use tranquilizers if you want to start acting like an idiot and forget it all the next day. you say i didn't know you were so into this, um, scene, i guess? she squints at you. she says are you a cop? you say no. she says cause you're being awkward and simultaneously pretending you know and don't know what you're talking about and that's what a cop does. you say i'm not a cop. she says none of this is illegal. she says all this shit falls under the realm of reasonable materials for her research. you say i SWEAR im not a cop. she says and jeff in the living room there signed the consent forms and waivers before i started doing that shit to him. you say if i were a cop i would be given better training on handling this situation than just repeatedly saying im not a cop.

she says if youre not a cop why are you so fucking tense? she says calm the fuck down. you say um. she says you were so casual over text, thought we had good chemistry. you say we did. she says so whats got you like this? is it cause ive got a client? you start to answer her but she keeps talking. she says sorry about that, really. she says it was supposed to be a simple body swap job, organs out, couple changes, organs in, but dude keeps asking for more and more weird shit until somehow the plan has changed to him floating inside of a translucent biological skin suspended in a mix of lympatic fluid and vitreous jelly. you say what?? she says and i got no problem with that, but it means im gonna need a fuckton more meat than i thought i did when i started, and its gotta match him or his antibodies are gonna fuck him UP, so now im working his stem cells and bone marrow overtime to cook me up all the shit i need, meanwhile hes on life support and all this equipment is so esoteric i gotta babysit it the whole time, so i can't get away like we planned. again sorry about that she says.

you say its fine, i just didnt know what your job was. you say caught me off guard coming in and seeing a guy opened up like that. for a second started wondering if i was next. you laugh awkwardly. she does not laugh. she smokes a little more without saying anything. the silence goes on an uncomfortably long time.

she says do you want to be?

you say what? she says dates get discounts on ops, especially if its something hot or something simple. im really fucking talented too she says. she says you saw the state jeffs in and hes still alive and well. so cmon, anything you want? you say um. she says cmon, dont get shy now, tell me! you weren't scared to talk about kinks online. you say well there is one thing, not a body mod exactly but something that wouldn't be possible to do under normal circumstances. she says out with it, grinning wolfishly. you say im, uh, kind of into woundfucking.

she takes another gulp of her beer. she says god, who the fuck isn't? she says i'll never understand why that isnt a more common thing. seeing somebody as so much of an object that youd put a new hole into them just for your own fun. or alternatively, loving someone so much that you need to feel what it's like inside every part of them, need to connect with their muscle and blood just as much as you do the rest of them. fuck, it's delicious, she says, her grin stretching unnaturally wide, like a Glasgow smile that opened to reveal more teeth and gums. you have never felt more afraid. you have never felt more turned on.

you top or bottom, she asks. bottom you answer. good, she says, cause i've been wondering what you would look like screaming this whole time. your eyes widen. she downs the rest of her beer and stands up, grabbing your arm and yanking you up as she does so. she says cmon. you follow her, if only because when she pulls at you you briefly feel she may have the strength to tear your arm from its socket.

you pass through the living room. she shouts out yo, jeff. the unseamed man opens his eyes and looks at you. you cant read his expression. she says im gonna be busy in the next room for a couple hours. if you start dying, she says, slam your head into this. she grabs what looks like a game show buzzer off of a bookshelf covered in junk and sets it on the couch next to his head. she says should be loud enough for me to hear from the bedroom and come get you stabilized. blink twice if you got that. he blinks twice. she says cool, later. she pulls you through another nearby door and slams it closed behind her.

her bedroom is a confusing mix of the junk and grime you saw in the other room with a shockingly pristine bed. her clothes are strewn about the floor and the walk-in closet, with no organizational system you can discern, not even between clean and dirty. in fact, you wouldn't have called any of these clothes clean. she opens the cabinet under the bedside table, pulls out a huge roll of plastic sheeting, and covers the bed. ah. that explains it.

is this a dexter reference, or... you say, trailing off. she laughs again. what the fuck is that laugh? she says my amy got frustrated having to clean the sheets literally all the time so now i just do this instead. you say er, whos amy. she looks at you like youve lost your mind, a hypothesis you cannot disprove as you think on the situation. my wife, she says. wife you ask? she says fuck, did i not mention this either? shit, fuck, goddamnit. she says ive been married for three years. you say uhhhhhhhh. she says oh dont worry she knows! shes cool the relationships open. uh, unless YOURE not comfortable with me being poly, i guess. fuck i couldve sworn i mentioned this, she says. its not a problem you say. she says you wanna keep going? you say yeah. she says good.

she heads into the walk-in closet, grabbing a three-tiered cart from under a shelf and starting to wheel it to the bed. allergies, she asks? oxybenzone, you say. she says well im not planning to inject any fucking sunscreen into you, so i dont think thats relevant. you say look i dont know how any of this works, better safe than sorry. she says dont worry, you're always safe with me. AND im going to make you sorry, she says. she giggles before she stomps on a toggle on the cart that locks the wheels. you get a look at this cart and see that it has a collection of medical and not-so-medical implements, with the middle shelf appearing to contain various bottles, jars, and tubs of what you hope are medicines while the top shelf holds needles, sutures, scalpels, saws, scissors, and almost any kind of tool you can think of that holds a blade, from bread knives to x-actos. the bottom shelf has a large circular saw and a rusted chainsaw.

traffic light system for safety checks, she asks? you say yeah. cool she says. she pushes you onto the bed, the plastic crinkling as your head hits the pillow and you fall on your back. she sits on top of you, straddling your lap, holding your hands over your head by the wrist with one hand. she's freakishly strong, far moreso than her spindly limbs should allow. she takes the cigarette out of her mouth. you swallow. your eyes flick to it. you say sorry, can you, um... she grabs your neck, interrupting your speech and yanking your head forward. she leans down, spits on your cheek, and shoves the lit end of the cigarette against the same spot. the saliva buffers it slightly, but the burning feeling is still intense, a pain that rides through several seconds as she presses the cigarette into flesh. you hear yourself whining at the pain.

she flicks the now-extinguished cigarette aside and kisses you. it tastes like blood and morning breath and ash. she picks up one of the scalpels. in stark contrast to the rest of her home, each and every one of the tools is in sparkling pristine condition. she toys with the scalpel as she looks you up and down. you have any experience with being cut into, she asks? you say huh?, taking some time to process. oh, you say. um not really you say. never done cutting during play before and my only surgeries have been dental when i was a lot younger. she says no problem. she says im only gonna dull your pain a little, but let me know if i need to adjust sensation up or down. you nod breathlessly. she angles the scalpel and cuts through the front of your shirt, a swift motion that leaves the tip of the blade an inch or two from your neck. you recoil on instinct and she giggles again, pulling the knife back and moving the fabric of your shirt aside. she takes one of the smaller jars from the cart and dips two fingers in it, the scalpel dancing in her fingers as she does so, like a bored baton twirler doing pen tricks. the paste is bright pink, and she rubs it into the flesh of your upper stomach. you feel your nerves start to tingle slightly as she finishes.

she fills a syringe with something pastel red. placing her hand against the numbed area of your stomach, she spread her fingers, guiding the needle between two of them to hold it steady. you watch the point of the needle break skin, feel it sinking through your flesh. she depresses the plunger slowly. you exhale as she removes the needle. gooood toy, she says softly. your breath hitches at the praise and she smirks. she presses the scalpel to your skin, but doesn't start to cut. color, she asks? you say green. she smiles. she says making the incision.

the feeling of blade breaking skin isn't the sort of jarring penetration you thought it would be. the transition between the scratching pain of the scalpel against your skin to the actual slicing sensation is gradual, and you're not certain you could have pinpointed the moment if you weren't watching. you find yourself gritting your teeth, your jaw clenching involuntarily as your body tries not to vocalize the pain. it isn't intense, but it's persistent and deliberate in a way that doesn't match what you think pain should feel like.

riley is more energetic than youve seen her this whole time. she starts to hum happily to herself, cutting through your skin and flesh. the incision is vertical, two inches long and ending about an inch and a half above your belly button. she retrieves a pair of those metal clamps surgeons use to hold the incision open during surgery. you don't know what those are called. maybe you should ask her. you think that would kill the mood. you'll ask her after. she inserts them into the incision, adjusting the tension so that they spread it open about an inch. she notices you looking. she says you don't need to watch if it makes you squeamish, pet. you swallow hard. you say i want to watch. she giggles.

you lose track of time, watching her work. she wields the tools with a grace, precision, and speed you didn't think was possible. the blood wells out as she does so, flecks of it flying when she moves too frenetically, adding to the stains on her hoodie. it covers the ends of her fingers, drops trailing down to paint their streaks further down her hands and arms, like candle wax melting. your blood. her hands. you feel slightly faint, and you don't know if it's from arousal or bloodloss. the pain is constant, but still sharp enough not to ache. you breath shallowly, occasionally whimpering or letting your breath hitch as the scalpel catches flesh. for the most part, neither of you speak, though from time to time she gives soft praise, her voice warm and comforting as she assures you of how sweet and well-behaved you're being.

she isn't just making a hole. you don't know exactly what she's doing, but it's not just cutting. the needle and thread flash in her hands from time to time, and you can feel the muscle and fat in your torso being stretched and pulled, split and joined in new ways. your angle of view prevents you from seeing the operating area, to your dismay, and at times you almost speak up and ask if you could reposition so you could watch better - but you know you can't. it's not your place to ask anything of her. she's the one in charge.

still, you wish you could see. she described herself as a plastic surgeon earlier, but her movements don't match that description. it is not the slow, precise, micro-motion of a surgeon; her body language is free and expressive, passionate in a way that reveals her true nature. she is an artist, her chosen medium skin and meat, the tools of her craft surgical by their raw nature but not in the way she wields them. the blood-covered flesh, the sinew and fat held beneath your skin and even the skin itself are only the raw material with which she crafts her magnum opus. a sculptor of a living body, like a leatherworker or carver of bone taken to the logical conclusion.

she pulls off her sweatshirt, a sheen of perspiration covering her skin. your eyes are glued to her bare form. she notices you staring and flashes a predatory grin. aw, someone likes watching, huh? she says. you nod dumbly, and she chuckles. stupid little pile of meat, she says, affection in her voice. you think you might be in love. you cannot tear your eyes from her, though she evidently does not mind the attention as she returns to her work.

your gaze is not lustful, though doubtlessly lust is the predominant feeling in you. your focus is drawn to her through fascination and adoration, not arousal. you study her curves, the hair of her stomach, the dullling red stretch marks that frame her chest and gut and streak across her thighs, because this is the body of the woman who is recreating you. is this not the same as knowing the form of the god who shaped you in his image?

no, it is something different from that. this is not the god who made adam in his image but the god who knew man would need a companion, and shaped one from a rib torn from the body of his creation. a divinity that does not create from whole cloth but rends meat and bone until its craft is complete. a godly vulture, a being that tears its hooks into the carcass of the universe and pulls free a dried, gristly tendon, granting importance to that which exists but lied bound beneath the surface of the skin, out of sight, out of mind, waiting to ooze its way free from this veil of vellum. the perfected form of imperfection. the blood is drying in her filthy, matted hair. she takes a pill bottle from the cart, pours out a handful, and swallows them without water before returning to the frenzied stitching of your adipose tissues.

what must be hours later, she sits up and wipes the sweat from her brow, smearing your blood across it at the same time. she wipes more of the blood onto her thighs, apparently to clean her hands, though they are still caked with grime and gore. think its done, she says. she says anesthetic should be wearing off too. she sets the scalpel down and leans over you. she's right; you feel the sensation returning to the area she's operated on in full force. she lays on her side next to you, head propped up on her hand, her other arm draped across your body, cheshire smile on her face. you feel her fingertips lazily trace the edges of the gash before she slides one in.

how do you describe the sensation? what does it really feel like for something to work its way between the folds of your muscle, for subcutaneous fat and flesh to be pressed aside, molded, to make way for the penetrating presence of another? the pain is omnipresent, but not overwhelming as you expected it would be. the flesh holds sensation deeper than you thought it would as well - several inches beneath your skin, you can feel her fingers hook inside of you. you can't tell how much of the pleasure is physical and how much is psychological, but it is there, and it is overwhelming. you tense in response to it, moaning, and the tension causes your muscles to clench, sliding against her fingers, bringing sensation to new parts of your abdomen. the feedback loop overwhelms you, and you feel a disappointed whine escape you as her finger leaves the hole.

she giggles. so needy, she says. she says guess i did make you pretty sensitive, huh? you whimper in response. she says don't worry, i won't leave you empty too long. she moves, sitting on your lap, pulling the panties off as she does so. her dick flops out over your stomach. it is roughly human in shape, and on the larger end of normal human size, but its appearance throws you for a loop. it is stitched together, frankensteinian in construction, without even a consistent skin color. she notices you looking. you like it she asks? she says sort of had to bodge it together pretty quick, don't put nearly as much effort into my own body as i do others. she says amy could do better. you are far too horny to consider the implications of any of that. you whine, straining upwards to press the wound towards the tip of her cock. she laughs. good toy, she says.

she sighs deeply as she forces herself inside of you. ffffffffffuck, that's good, she says. your core muscles shift around her, flexing to squeeze her cock as she sinks it in, hilting inside of the hole. you moan, your hands coming up reflexively to cover your face in some act of shame or modesty which is at this point thoroughly meaningless. she pulls back out slowly, her cock glistening with your blood, before slamming back into you, new parts of your abdomen being forced aside to accommodate her. you think she is pressing against organs now. you desperately want her deeper.

she pulls your hands away from your face with one hand, and with the other shoves the finger that she had previously used to explore the laceration into your mouth. you suckle at it thoughtlessly as she rolls her hips, the tip of her dick forcing itself into your abdominal cavity. the taste of blood and sweat and dirt linger on your tongue. she starts thrusting hard, the repeated slamming of her cockhead against the parts of you that were never meant to be touched the only thing you can think about. it hurts. oh god, it hurts, and it feels so much better than anything you've ever felt. damn that's a good hole, she says. you don't say anything. she takes the finger out of your mouth. color, she asks? it takes you a second to connect the thought. green, you say. she says thank god. can i come in you she asks. you nod stupidly, your mouth still open from her finger being pulled out. she giggles.

she grabs your chin, tilts your head up, and presses her lips against you. she tastes like morning breath and your blood. it's delicious. you wrap your arms around her as she forces herself in and out of the gaping, bleeding wound in your stomach. she's so close to you, her whole body pressed against you as that massive, unnatural cock digs into your blood and muscle and guts. she doesn't smell like she knows what a shower is. she is practically laying on top of you. you can't think. your wrap your legs around her too.

she groans in your ear as she slams herself balls deep into the gash again. your insides are flooded with her cum. your own orgasm forces your core muscles to clench, tightening and sliding around her length, unintentionally milking her cock into you. she pulls out, laying the dick slick with blood, sweat, and cum across your stomach, as she pants. she rolls off of you, laying in bed beside you. unthinking, you turn onto your side and press your body against her. she wraps her arms around you and kisses you again.

you hear the sound of thrashing from the other room, followed by a cartoon buzzer sound effect, and then what sounds like the seinfeld jingle starts to play. she jumps to her feet. god fucking damnit, jeff, she says. she says i'll be right back as she crosses the room at a run, slamming the door behind her. the wound in your stomach is still bleeding. you have no idea how to process anything that just happened.

#wormblr #parahumans #worm spoilers #our writing #riley davis #riley grace davis #bonesaw #dr riley davis mde #hjow the fuck do i tag this #tw gore #tw body horror #tw blood #tw sex #tw medical stuff

[comingfromastatechampionasshole]

Doc's Best In Goddamn Show Montana State Fair Coconut Cream Pie

As promised, the baked good that did the best, I'll release the recipe. This is one of my favorite pies of all time, hewed into a perfect custard-based pie that won me my first Best in Show rosette in nine years. And pies is even a tough category!

The other shocking thing: This is one of the easiest pies I make. It's very much "don't worry about it." It even tastes better if you make everything but the topping the day before serving.

“Doc, why don’t you use cream of coconut for the custard?” Friend, I tried for years to get that to work, only to find out that cream of coconut just does not bake up as nice as milk and cream, so I use a nice extract and toast the coconut to get the flavors. 

YOU WILL NEED:

A crust (I presume you can either make or buy a crust. I might even have a recipe here on the blog, I can’t remember) 

Pie: 

5 eggs

¾ cup caster/baker’s sugar 

2 cups of whole milk

½ cup half and half (I believe this is called half cream in the UK)

1 tsp vanilla bean paste

1 tsp coconut extract (I like Olivenation or watkins. Also, bear in mind you may need to use more. I do this to taste and the tsp is a guess on my part. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you where to taste in the recipe) 

Pinch salt

1 cup sweetened flaked coconut

Topping:

2 cups heavy cream VERY COLD (can use whipping or double also, but I prefer heavy) 

2 tablespoons jello or jello style pudding mix, coconut 

Powdered/icing sugar (this will be to taste) 

Decoration: Most definitely toasted coconut. I really like Nuts.com’s organic dried coconut chips, but it depends on how flush I’m feeling--I did not use it in this competition. Macadamia nuts are great, dried pineapple, for this competition I used coconut rolls from costco. This is mostly for visual appeal, so be creative. 

Toast your coconut: Put the oven at 350F. Put some parchment down on a baking sheet, and then put your sweetened flaked coconut on the sheet. Don’t forget to put in a bit extra for your topping decoration. Toast for about five minutes, it will probably need a stir and watch it closesy--coconut burns easy. When it’s a nice pale golden, pull it and up the temperature of the oven to 375F. 

Blind bake your crust. If you haven’t done this before, I think it’s easy but admit maybe not everyone will. Roll your crust out into a pie plate, just like you always would, and then cover the bottom with tin foil, and fill with pie weights or beans, or rice--I’m a big fan of using sugar. Whatever you use. Bake it about 15-17 minutes, it should be lightly brown at the edges. Take out the pie weight you used. Bake it about 5 minutes more, just so the bottom gets very lightly toasted. 

Make the filling! Beat your eggs in in a large bowl until they are very well combined but not whipped. Beat in everything but the coconut itself. NOW TASTE IT. Does it taste coconutty enough, or do you want to add a little more extract? Have an easy hand with the stuff, it’s powerful. Mix in the toasted coconut. 

Yeah, I’m serious, that was the whole of the filling instructions. I told you this was ridiculously easy. 

Bake: Pour your filling (carefully) into the pie crust, and cover the edges of your pie crust so it doesn’t burn (I use tin foil, but they do make fancy pie shields). I like to put it on a jelly roll pan so it’s easier for me to take in and out of the oven. You’re going to bake it at 375F for about 30-40 minutes, but the real test is: if you shake it a little, is it set at the sides but with a little wiggle in the center? That’s when it’s done. 

Let it cool totally. 

Topping! Beat your cold cream and pudding mix together, adding the powdered sugar slowly. I start with a quarter cup and work my way up until it’s as sweet as I like. I prefer a harder peak for this, but soft peaks are acceptable if you enjoy that more. Decorat with your topping choices! 

GO WIN A FUCKIN ROSETTE

Please tell me if you made this! If you found this really helpful and would like to leave me a tip, my ko-fi is here!

#recipes #dessert recipes #pie recipes #baking tips

[thornbutch]

Flavorful (18+)

check out my masterlist! ♡

Pairings: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Ellie live on a cute, tiny farm where you make pies and make love.

Tags: farm girl, cottagecore love, baking, pie, teasing, reader and Ellie are so cute, country, 18+, eventual smut

Word Count: 1.4k

“What’re you makin’ this time, baby?” Ellie asked when she walked into the house. She could smell the heavenly scent before she had walked into the door.

“A pie,” you replied from your spot at the stove, “Strawberry.”

Ellie set down her keys and placed her brown, leather jacket on the coat hanger. She almost forgot to take off her boots, which were coated in mud. Luckily, you threw a scary glare her way that reminded her.

She plopped down on the soft couch that sat in front of the TV. You were watching, or rather listening in, on some crime show from your place in the kitchen. Ellie knew not to turn, opting to scroll through her phone as she waited for you to finish instead.

Once the pie was done baking, you placed it on the countertop in front of a window seal. The pie was perfect. The edges were a golden-brown and the filling was concealed underneath. The smell wafted throughout the house and its cracks. Ellie couldn’t wait to dig into it, and later, you.

You took off your pale pink apron and hung it on the wall, making your way to sit with your girlfriend in the living room. You cuddled up to her tenderly, head on her shoulder and legs on her lap.

“How was work, Els?” You asked, nose twitching in delight at the smell of her musky scent.

“Good,” she hummed. She had set her phone down and wrapped and arm loosely around your waist. Her other hand held the remote, which meant she could now turn the channel. She searched through channels while you relished in her warmth.

You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep. The presence of your girlfriend made you feel safe and secure. The both of you had recently moved onto this farm. It was a part of your late father’s will. You had always been a farm girl, loving to take care of animals and plant sweet fruits in the garden. You met Ellie in the city, though, due to attending a community college that resided there. You were pleased to find out that Ellie was, too, a farm girl. The two of you fell in love at first sight. Moving from the country to the city was hard, but moving back (from the city to the country) with a pretty girl at your hip was amazing.

“You fallin’ asleep on me, darlin’?” Ellie whispered, earning her a nod in return. Ellie shook her head with a smile splayed across her lips. You probably hadn’t slept the whole day since she had left. She’d have to lecture you later on the importance of rest. Maybe she’d buy the house an alarm system, so you’d feel safer alone.

You laid there for a while, maybe an hour or so, and Ellie sat there with you.

. . .

Once you had awoken, you had realized your girlfriend was no longer on the couch with you. You rubbed your eyes and yawned as you got off the couch in search for her.

You found her in the kitchen, red jelly on her lips and pie crust around her mouth. You giggled at the sight. “Couldn’t wait for me?”

Ellie shrugged, stuffing another bite of your pie into her mouth. “Was hungry,” she said. Bits of pie flew out of her mouth as she spoke. You cringed, and she noticed. “What?”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, idiot.” You made your way towards her.

She babbled about nonsense on purpose, getting food on your shirt and making you swat at her in retaliation.

“Els, stop!” You groaned when a tiny splatter of jelly landed on your pearly white top. “This is gonna be so hard to get out.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “I’ll wash it.”

You reached your hand out to wipe away the crust and jelly on her face. The both of you smiled at each other, so helplessly in awe and in love with each other.

“You better,” you pouted, “Or no pie for a week.”

Ellie shrugged.

“No sex for a week.”

Her eyebrows raised at that, and her eyes open wide in alertness. “You don’t mean that.”

You nodded, “I do.”

She got up from the kitchen chair and made a half-assed attempt to grab you. You were quick, moving out the way just in time to avoid capture. Her eyes glinted at this, a challenge.

It took your all not to fall on the floor with all the laughter that was emerging from the pits of your stomach as you evaded her capture. You ran around the two-story house, at times losing Ellie completely. You hid behind the couch, behind the kitchen island, and underneath a coffee table. She had trouble finding you at first, but your obnoxious giggles would always blow your cover. You were nimble enough to escape her grasp.

Until she had found you in the bedroom, hiding behind the large wooden door. She had you cornered, and your only way to escape was underneath her arms. You moved quickly, but she practically tackled you onto the bed. More laughter escaped you, and her, as well.

“Thought I wouldn’t catch ya, huh, love?” She pressed her lips to your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, purposefully avoiding your lips as sign of defiance.

“You cheated,” you huffed, unable to accept the fact that you had lost fair and square.

“Right,” Ellie pressed her lips to yours, soft and gentle. The two of you kissed for what felt like hours, biting on each others lips, turning the hues into deep, cherry reds.

Her hands glided down your body, leaving goosebumps in her wake. You keened at this, raising your hips to meet hers. Her hands pinned yours above your head, completely taken control of what she rightfully owned.

Small gasps filled the air as she left dark marks on your neck and torso. She’d go anywhere but lower. This was your punishment for running.

Soon, she gave up. She could no longer keep herself from where she wanted to touch you most.

Your shorts and white, frilly-laced panties were lost somewhere on the floor. Those were on of your favorite pairs, but you didn’t worry about not finding them.

“Buy you a new pair,” Ellie breathed out as she delved into your heat, “Don’t worry, baby.”

Her cheeks were tinted and your breathing was labored as she ate you out like there was no tomorrow. You were her favorite flavor. She wished she could bake you into a pie or, better yet, turn you into a perfume, that way the smell of your tart pussy would never escape her mind.

It didn’t take long for you to finish, it never did. She knew your body well, maybe knew it even better than you did. She pulled her fingers out of you, a connection of your juices severed once they were far away enough. She brought them to her mouth, lapping away your essence as you watched with hooded eyes.

God, you loved this woman so much.

She moved her way up, your mouths meeting once more. You tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear once the two of you needed a break to gather more oxygen into your lungs.

“You’re perfect,” you said.

“All you,” she replied and laid down beside you. You knew the drill, wanting to eagerly please your lover as much as she had pleased you.

The rest of both of your clothes were discarded across the bedroom floor. Her thighs shook with ecstasy as your mouth attacked her the same way she had attacked you moments prior. Her hands were in your hair, pushing you into her wet, slick cunt and keeping you there. It wasn’t like you were going to pull away, even if she was suffocating you.

It’d be the most beautiful way to die, between the legs of the freckled-faced girl you desired most.

Once the two of you were done (three rounds later), a bath was run to cleanse you of your sins. You settled into the deep tub, your back against Ellie’s bare chest. White, whisky bubbles coated your upper body.

“Will you make another?” Ellie questioned.

“Of course,” you smiled brightly, “If you promise not to eat it all up before I can even take a bite myself.”

Ellie shrugged, the water shifting around both of you, “No promises.”

#ellie williams #tlou #smut #18+ content #ellie x reader #fem!reader #wlw

[mungo-grubb]

Nathan’s Sweet European Vacation Part II

Eager to get started, Nathan looked at the instructions for filling doughnuts. The process seemed simple enough. Just insert the nozzle, squeeze for a few seconds as the doughnut inflates, and wait for the cream to poke out of the hole. 

Nathan pulled over a tray of doughnuts from one of the stacks near him. Gazing at the tray with hunger in his eyes, said, “I should have a couple to satisfy my appetite first before getting to work”.

Nathan picked one up and held it in his large palm. His hand, while perfect for playing water polo, made the pastry look almost snack-sized. As he cupped the warm soft fried bread in his hand, he glanced over at the fillings to see which one he should try first.

“I think I will try the raspberry jelly first,” as he inserted the piping tube into the doughnut and squeezed it. The jelly quickly flowed. It rapidly filled the doughnut to the point where it started to ooze out of the insertion point and began to run down Nathan’s palm. 

Quick to act, Nathan then ran his tongue up his hand to capture the escaping jelly. Then, in one fluid motion, he popped the doughnut into his mouth. It took only a moment, but as Nathan started to chew into the soft pillowy doughnut, his taste buds began to dance in ecstasy. The smell, taste, and texture flooded the senses into overdrive. The young lad was beyond himself with happiness as he swallowed the first treat.

Overjoyed, Nathan yelled to Gareth through the door, “These are fantastic! The best thing I have eaten yet on my trip.”

Not knowing that no one was there and not waiting for a response, Nathan, pulling his chair closer to the table, rolled up his long sleeves on his black Henley, and turned his sights on the remaining doughnuts in front of him.  

Nathan, eager for another bite, swiftly grabbed two doughnuts in his hand and began filling them. Once filled, he popped one in his mouth and placed the other on the empty tray. Happy with himself, he figured that it would be a great way to satisfy his hunger while completing the tasks that Gareth asked him to do. 

After about five minutes, Nathan had made his way through three trays of doughnuts. However, only about ten filled doughnuts made it to the finished tray. Assessing his progress, he felt a little guilty about how many he had eaten; still hungry, Nathan continued to eat the pastries as he filled them.

As Nathan ate, the sugar kept his senses dilated and in a constant state of ecstasy and hunger. The kitchen became his world, and his only desire was another pastry.   

A trance took him over, happily eating and enjoying everything in sight. The hunger and released dopamine drove him to keep eating. Unbeknownst to him, his body started to reflect the number of calories that he was consuming. Like most incidences of weight gain, it started slowly and in the usual target areas. Luckily, thanks to his big physique, the growth was subtle at first, so he didn’t notice the transformation. Only when he reached across the table, did he feel a slight uncomfortableness around his waist and slight limitations in his range of motion.

In reality, the sugary treats would have had a larger more noticeable impact, had it not been for his high metabolism and years of athletic training. Nevertheless, it was all a matter of time before his mindless consumption caught up to the young man.

It started in his waist, the abs gradually lost definition as his skin began to soften, similar to dough proofing. His newly acquired belly started to creep over his waist, causing his shirt to lift. Slowly at first, the crescent shape of pale flesh began to emerge from under his shirt. As his belly started to free itself, the button on his well-worn blue jeans strained from the pressure from his thickening thighs and more supple cheeks that padded his chair.

Despite the changes, Nathan was still in his trance, and kept eating what he could grab from the table. He chewed, swallowed, and repeated as his hands brought another pastry to his lips. Sucking occasionally straight from the piping bags to quench his thirst. After he exhausted the doughnuts and drained the large jelly piping bag. He then moved on to the cinnamon rolls and its giant white bladder of frosting. The cinnamon rolls were larger than the doughnuts and much denser, which slowed Nathan down a bit, but he barely noticed. His hunger kept him going, and he was in the zone.

As he swallowed, the pastries appeared to just dissolve inside of him. Nothing strained or felt full, he just felt hungry.

The cinnamon rolls only fueled his ever-expanding form. By now, a soft billowy belly had expanded onto his lap. Plump and full of dissolved pastries, gravity slowly took over, spreading his thighs, and pulling his belly downwards further under the table. This caused his belly to slowly force him forward. His once muscular bubble butt continued to inflate to match the pace - filling in his seat with two soft blubbery mounds. As his body swelled between table and chair, his arms, chest, and back took their turn to thicken. Once lean muscular features that aided Nathan during polo matches now look more like a life jacket of soft doughy skin.

No longer the lean swimmer, his framed puffed out to more resembled the stay-puff marshmallow man. His pecs and arms ballooned under the constrained shirt, forcing the seem to slowly pull apart until ripping completely off. His remaining clothes and watch were not far behind, as his waist button finally gave up, with a POP, and flesh sprang from confinement. This left Nathan in nothing but strained cotton blue briefs as his body slowly heaved forward in all directions.    

Now that the constraints of clothing were gone, Nathan had more mobility to grab the cooling rack of cookies at the far end of the table. Paying no attention to his current transformation or his surroundings, he sucked all the bladders of the icing dry and pushed the pile of empty trays aside, he continued to eat. He was perfectly content in his gluttony with no intention of stopping.      

As his feast of pastries continued, Nathan’s body continued to transform. He became more of a large pale mass, losing more and more definition. His frame no longer fit in the chair, spilling over each of its sides. A clear imprint of the chair in his rear could be seen if there was anyone there to look.

Once dwarfed by the table, now hunched over it, Nathan looks as if he is absorbing it in his expanding mass. His enormous belly finally finds solace as it meets the ground. Nathan’s stomach has slowly taken over much of the space under the high table. As it inched forward to match consumption, it pulled him closer to the table, lifting him further from his chair.

At this point, Nathan had cleared most of the food except for a few remaining trays across the table. Running out of sweets and limited reach, Nathan tried to extend his arms as far as he could and dig his toes into the ground to try and reach his coveted sweets. As he reached forward, the table and chair both creaked with resistance.

Suddenly, his toes slipped out from under him, forcing his momentum forward, knocking over the table and chair. This propelled Nathan up onto his ginormous belly as he rolled forward. Thankfully, the force was just enough to center him. Nathan was stuck resembling a large pale water balloon swaying back and forth on the kitchen floor. His belly covered much of his 6'1 frame, allowing his fattened arms and legs to hug his sides trying to stabilize himself. Dizzy from what had just happened, Nathan slowly tried to orient himself and assess the situation.

He was hungry but all the pastries were out of reach. He felt heavy yet floating at the same time.  

His hands began to rub his newly acquired mass, or at least what he could reach. “I feel like a waterbed.” His brain was still a bit foggy, but he knew that this was not right. His skin was soft and doughy, pinching it to make sure it was him. “Oh No – it’s me!”

“Fuck, No!”

Nathan then felt a warm breeze across his rear, drawing his attention to the fact that he was stranded on his belly, completely naked.

“No, no, no, no…”

He felt the weight of his moobs as they hung low towards the ground. His swollen neck kept his face fixed in a forward position.

Naked, stuck, and absolutely panicking, Nathan finally remembered the baker.

“What time is it, and how long has he been gone? Did he hear the table and chair commotion?”

“What is happening?”

“Fuck, what am I going to do?”

“I am a blimp!”     

The time in the kitchen passed, without a clock or his watch, Nathan had no idea how long he waited.

What seemed to be an eternity, he finally heard the front door close. A familiar voice was heard through the door, "Hello, Nathan?"

Gareth was back. Nathan tried to yell through his fattened cheeks, “Help! Help! Help!”

Unable to make any significant movement, Nathan’s eyes darted towards the door.

Gareth unlocked the door, turned the knob, and slowly opened the door to his kitchen.

Gareth stopped and smiled. Standing in his kitchen doorway, he soaked up the sight of what was before him. “Well…Hello Nathan, I see you enjoyed my pastries.”

 <To Be Continued>   

#feedee belly #male transformation #feedee encouragement #gay feedee #feedee feeder #gay men #gay gainer #feeder wanted #gay #feederist #belly expansion #male butt #full belly #sexy belly #fat belly #belly gainer #fat #chubby #gut #exjock

[kiwanopie]

omg please more saiki k, i am starving and you have fed me. you write saiki so well

Psych Kick

cw: suggestive language from saiki.

wc: 1k

Saiki’s been glued to his phone all day.

Saiki’s been staring at his phone since their morning classes started, thumbs rushing quietly over his little screen, eyes twitching toward his pocket every time it buzzes - and it’s almost funny seeing him pretend to be bothered by it. Not like he doesn’t immediately reach in his pocket every time the professor turns his head, tap into it a few times and scroll up; just to repeat the process all over again.

Kaido squints from his spot beside him. Every time he tries to lean in to sneak a peek Saiki casts him a dirty look. Last time he even used his Telekinesis to straighten his spinal cord and now he can barely turn his head. - But can you blame him? He hasn’t seen him this interested in his phone since the cafe left QR codes across campus for free coffee jelly and even then he was satiated by noon. But it’s rolling around three o’clock, and this lecture ends at three fifteen, and he’s been tapping his foot since two thirty. If he’s really in a relationship like he says he is, then he wonders what the two have to be talking about to get him so antsy?

Kaido catches the eye of Kuboyasu who seems to have caught on to Saiki’s weird behavior.

He makes a pointing down motion from where he’s sitting behind the two, furrowing his brows into a questioning grimace.

“Can you read what it says?” Kaido twitches his head in his direction and mouths after glancing at his distracted friend.

“What?” Aren mouths back.

“Can you read?”

“Can I read?”

“Yeah!”

“Obviously.”

Kaido kisses his teeth.

He freezes when Saiki straightens his back again to slide his phone back in his pocket and he isn’t spared from another dirty look as he turns his attention back to the lecture again.

He has to wait until his phone buzzes a few minutes later to gesture again to a distracted Saiki. Kaido points his head towards their friend’s phone, and Aren nods his head like he gets it now.

Kaido furrows.

“That concludes today’s lecture.”

Saiki’s up without a moment to spare.

It’s an effort not to trip as Aren clumsily scoots his way through the row of seating, accidentally scuffing his shoe on the end corner of a desk and knocking into a less than pleased Saiki. “Ouch! Sorry!”

Saiki quickly rights him before briskly stepping out of the auditorium.

Kaido furrows at Aren as he meets him at the door. “What was that about?”

And like the very opposite of a godsend he is, he pulls the stolen phone out of his sleeve.

“You stole his phone?!”

“That’s not what…?” Aren makes a puzzled face. He really is a delinquent!!

“Don’t just-“ Aren dodges a frantic and quite fearful Kaido. “Don’t just look through it!”

“Didn’t you wanna know who he was texting? Oh-” He throws his head back. “This guy’s got a girlfriend.”

“Yeah he does and those messages are private so-“

“Weren’t you peeping earlier?”

“Yeah?! So what?!”

“So-“ And then Aren freezes.

If a guy could both blush and go pale then he’s sure that's a phenomenon that he might be currently privy to. By the way Aren’s just suddenly stopped breathing, gaping into a vacuum and breaking into a cold sweat. He doesn’t know if he should be more intrigued or concerned. But if the tinted ears are any guarantee, he’s surely gonna pick the former.

Kaido leans in. “What?”

Baby: i’ll put on the polka dot dress! the green’ll match ur glasses!!!

Saiki: You know it’s just a cafe? You don’t have to get all dolled up or anything.

Baby: yeah but it’s your favorite cafe and i like dressing up for you?

Baby: also it’s new and it’ll be the first time im wearing it out

Saiki: Really? Then I can’t wait to see it.

Baby: !!! is ur lecture over yet? where do you wanna meet up?

Saiki: By the fountains, I’m already on my way.

Kaido tilts his head. Oh? He has a date! There’s nothing wrong with that? Although it is a little strange to see him look all lovey dovey with somebody else. But there’s nothing too out of the ordinary about that?

Aren scrolls the chat up a few times.

Baby: ur not going to your dorm are you?

Saiki :That’s where I live unfortunately.

Baby: you should stop by here maybe

Saiki: Yeah? Why?

Baby: because i miss you:(

Baby: and because i can still smell you and feel you all over me… and my fingers aren’t quite doing the trick

Saiki: God, you’re needy.

Baby: don’t you miss me too? :((

Saiki: Obviously.

Saiki: Give me a minute to put my things away. I’ll come over and fuck you till you cry.

He’ll…

The force that snatches the phone out of their clutches is nearly enough to crack into them like stone. Both collectively choking on their own breaths but no better when they peer up at the scowl bearing down on them.

If looking mad as hellfire was a thing they’d be burnt to a crisp and served as kabobs by now. Even madder when he turns his phone back at himself and sees the string of messages they were nosing at. Let’s hope they didn’t scroll any higher.

But like he has a death wish. Worse than death wish. Aren swallows whatever last morsels of spit left in his body to swallow, and looks up at his pink haired friend with a glance of appraisal.

“I didn’t… know you had it in you..” This guy’s suicidal. “Seriously.” Seriously?!

Kaido whimpers as Saiki raises a glowing hand up at the two and prays that he’ll at least be merciful enough to let him have an open casket.

Until his phone starts ringing.

He sighs after glancing at his screen, hurriedly swiping as he turns for the door. “Moshi moshi,”

The two swallow as he glances back in his leave. “Yeah… Sorry. I’m on my way.”

reblog for free 5.99$ coffee jelly 🍰

#pretending my writing is coherent is a coping mechanism #also *kisses you* #saiki k drabble #saiki x reader #kusuo saiki #saiki k #the disastrous life of saiki k. #saiki no psi nan #saiki k x you

[jellied-milk]

🌾Oh My Darling…

Hi everyone, welcome!!

This is my first fic, so criticism is DEFINITELY appreciated/wanted. I hope you guys enjoy it since I did while writing it especially after such a long writing break.

• MINORS DNI//18+ : brief violence, slow build, eventual smut, slight angst

•word count: 3.5k

•(pt.2 is out: https://www.tumblr.com/jellied-milk/742986938592690176/oh-my-darlingoh-my-darling )

————

Leaves and branches fly by, whipping across your sleeves as you dart through the midnight-covered forest. Rain seeps into your thin shirt causing it to cling to your frame. Eyes frantically searching for the clearest path to get you and your horse, Sonny, through. Your mind and body seem to have one common goal: run…

‘Not now! Damnit, no no! Run, keep running, don’t stop running…’

The trees seemed never ending as little moonlight peeked through the angry clouds blanketing you in false security while escaping in the night. You kept running, kept running until you heard no shouting, kept running ‘til you heard no bullets whizzing by you. Kept running ‘til you heard nothing but soft raindrops hitting the earth around you.

The air was still and silent now, just Sonny’s hooves and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears could be heard. With no clearing in sight, you pull the reins slightly and gently pet Sonny on his head to slow him down a bit and finally let him take a deep breath after such an intense ride. The forest just now started taking shape as your eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness. Thoughts still racing yet you’re unable to focus on a single thing as your hands mindlessly guide Sonny through the shrubbery. You don’t know how far you’ve gotten and part of you doesn’t care, you just hope to find something or anything to help.

‘I can’t stop… not now, I have to at least find a town or old cabin before I collapse. I have to get outta here, I have to…’

‘*Crack*’

Your head whipped to the left and right with wide eyes trying to find the source of the sound. The world slowed as your heart started to panic, Sonny became uneasy with each step and whined to fill the silence. He started tugging and stomping in every direction as his whines became louder, his hooves tearing up dirt beneath him. Your hand went to rub his face to calm his nerves.

“Hey hey…you’re okay. It’s alright Sonny, come on this way now. Come on shhh it’s almost over.”

Sonny halted. Your thighs tightly gripped the saddle as your hands shot back to the reins in hopes of not falling off. Still checking your sides and over your shoulder, you almost don’t see anything…

Almost…

Before you can react, Sonny cries as he raises his front two hooves off the ground before taking off like a bat outta hell. Grip as tight as ever, you hold on for dear life as the golden mare jumps over fallen logs and earth-embedded stones with ease. You try to focus your eyes to see them again: the pale green, glowing circles covered in darkness.

The eyes of coyotes. As your eyes scan around you for danger, Sonny runs towards what seems like an opening ahead. He goes faster and faster and faster, the sweat from your palms and rain starts to affect your grip on the reins. The world went quiet for a moment before the sky was bathed in white and a flash hit your eyes.

You felt like you were flying in this moment before the air was knocked out of your lungs and the feeling of dirt rubs roughly against your skin with the familiar sting to follow immediately afterwards. You groan in pain while rolling onto your knees trying to frantically stand to catch your horse, who’s carrying what little things you own including your money.

“No no no! Please!?”

Your mind starts to get fuzzy as your chest begins to tighten. Panicking, your feet keep moving in the same direction Sonny bolted towards despite pain blossoming across your side. The rain obscures your vision while your arms knock lower branches and brushes out of your way. Your worried filled eyes try to stay locked forward to the opening.

‘So close…just get to the opening. There’s gotta be a town, a house, a shack! Something nearby!’

‘*Snap*’

“AHH!!”

You drop to the ground, one hand holding your leg while the other crawls at the dirt. A mixture of blood and grime gathered near the side of your mouth allowing you to taste the bitterness, but you hardly notice. The pain across your side couldn’t compare to the feeling of what’s attached to your ankle. A metal, hinged trap with small teeth on either side. The bunt force of the trap was caught by mainly your boot, but you could feel the little metal tips dig into your tender skin. The woods start to go dark and trees spin in your sight. You drag your body further along to the opening, your nails become caked in filth as you push yourself against the wet soil.

“Stay awake, just stay awake. Someone has to come…the opening…just a little more.”

The trees dissipated as the road came into view. You let out a sigh of relief as you repeat those same words:

‘Stay awake, just stay awake. Someone has to come…’

———

As Arthur rode along Cumberland Forest’s road near Valentine, he was blessed with a rarity: silence.

Night had fallen and the small droplets hitting him were more an inconvenience than anything. The only thing that could be heard were the soft rumbles from above him, reminding him that he had to take shelter soon. The cries from the sky become more violent with white flashing more frequently in his sight. While trying to think of where to refuge for the night, in a burst of light, he saw something.

His eyes remained locked in place while Mother Nature released a thunderous clap. Arthur’s ears didn’t hear the heaven’s cry, instead heard loud yelping coming from the side of the road — further between the trees.

He narrowed his brows as he jumped off his shire, Blue, tying him to the nearest tree to not run off on him again. He drew his gun and cautiously stalked towards the endless crying out for help and coughing. As he got closer, a fallen lump could be made out and Arthur froze. Excepting to find a beaten man or an unlucky creature caught before the storm, he ends up to see a smaller woman with her leg stuck in a makeshift bear trap, the woman’s eyes filled with panic and fear looking up at him.

He looked at you for a split second with concerned eyes before your hand reached out to him. Your mouth and body moving before your brain can even register what’s happening.

“Please! *pants* Please help me. I-I can’t move. please?…”

He looked back down at you — even in the dark you had visible scars and injuries all over you and that’s not even counting the trap that had been set on your ankle, which had caused it to bleed, some blood dry some not. He knew whatever happened to you couldn’t be good and by the way you looked he could tell you needed immediate medical help. A tired, hoarse voice reached his ears.

“Please… I was riding, my horse got scared and ran off. Please, it hurts.”

"It's alright, breathe. Do you mind if I ask your name?" He looked down at you concerned, as you were whimpering in pain from your ankle and trying to focus on the dark figure in front of you.

‘My name…no. Lie, you need to survive first.’

“Umm Clementine, but people call me, Clem.”

Arthur came closer now knowing there’s no threat, but still hesitant so not to startle you. He could tell you were scared and tired and when you looked up at him, he knew he couldn’t leave you here. The least he could do was drop you off in town, that way he could get a room for the night. With his mind made up, Arthur walked towards the tree you’ve pushed yourself against and extended his large hand.

"Alright Miss Clementine c’mon, me and you are headed to the nearest town to have ya' ankle checked. It’s gonna be alright just stay awake for me, miss."

He crouched down next to you and now sees the trap closer. Reaching under his pant leg, Arthur pulled out a knife and quickly tested each side of the hinges on the trap’s locks until he felt the blade bend back one of the teeth. He readjusted himself then gently grabbed the back of your calf which caused you to tense and released a sharp hiss. Arthur’s eyes flicker between you and the trap, he quickly collects his worries and works the knife into the valleys of teeth then pushes. With a lot of force and strength, he managed to pry it open enough to get your foot out — the lock was broken, but you were free. Arthur straightened up his shoulders then shuffled back some to give you a little space. You let out a sigh of relief as the worst pain subsided, finally able to catch your breath.

"C'mon ma’am. Valentine’s right up the road ‘bout 40 minutes away. "

You don’t even notice the man’s voice call out to you, the thought of freedom invades your mind as thousands of possibilities cross your mind.

‘Free. I’m free…’ you let an airy chuckle escape your busted lip, ‘I’m finally free. Wait.’

You look up realizing the man was waiting for you to follow him.

“Wait, umm can you please lift me up? I-It hurts to move.”

He nodded and pulled a bandage roll from his coat before completely removing it. He slowly approached you like you’re an animal ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

‘Huh how funny…’ you thought as you felt a sudden tightness spread around your ankle and warmth wrap around your body. You gasp as you’re being lifted into this strange man’s large arms.

Walking back to Blue, Arthur put you in front of the saddle, making sure you were up right — he tied a rope onto the saddle and gave it a tug to secure it. He handed you the rope and looked down at you.

"You may hold onto me however you wish, this might feel rough with the horses running. So, grab me if ya need to miss."

You simply hum and nod, trying to focus on your breathing and staying awake until you get to town. He got on Blue, kicking the horse slightly to get going. He held your body tightly in his arms, as you weakly held onto one of his arms. The horse rode along the forest, gradually getting faster. As the horse below you rode towards civilization, your mind could finally gather its thoughts and then you realize you haven’t asked this man, who is actively rescuing you, anything! —- not even his name.

“What's your name? I can’t properly thank you if I don't know it.”

"Name’s Arthur Morgan, so Arthur will do fine.." His accent was thick, especially his drawl lightly back at you.

"May I ask a question too ma’am, if that’s alright?"

He looked down at you in his arms, waiting. You sat silent for a moment, trying to think to answer.

‘Just keep your answers short and sweet, no need to tell your life story.’

“Umm I suppose, so ask away sir.”

"It's just Arthur, miss, no need for titles."

He reassured you and started off with the first of many questions he had about you. "How'd you get stuck in that trap?"

‘Easy.’ You thought, “I was riding to town when some coyotes came out and scared my horse, and since it’s thundering he was already spooked. He threw me off and I started running after him, then got caught in the trap.”

‘What’s a little woman like you ridin at this hour? And alone?’ Arthur thought after hearing the injured woman’s answer. Didn’t seem right, something about it seemed wrong, but he brushed it off for now and continued:

"Well, now, if I might ask another, why were coyotes after you?"

The horse continued to ride, carrying your and Arthur's weight on its broad back. He looked at you, waiting for your response. You swallowed.

“To kill me, I'm sure.”

Arthur slowed the horse when you said this. He looked down at you, and you began to question if you had said something wrong. Before your thoughts were completely reeling, he spoke once more.

"I have to ask this — but you doin’ okay? Looks like you’ve had better days before this one came along?"

He felt you instantly tense as the words left his mouth and could see your chest heaving slightly.

‘What?’ You stare blankly forward and your mouth goes dry. Small tears build in the rim of your eyes as memories flash by you. Shouting filled your ears as the smell of smoke invaded your nose. You blink your eyes back in to focus and force out the breath you didn’t know you were holding out.

“Umm yeah…I-I’m fine, just tired. It’s been a long day.” You ,through your hazy, pain-ridden brain, subconsciously lean back to finally rest your sore spine. With your eyelids covering the world from view, you softly sigh,”Thanks again…”

Arthur caught himself before he jumped too much when your back rested against him. He looked back at you, waiting to see if you were going to continue, but nothing else came out. He wasn’t sure how to respond: Should he ask more or let you rest? He felt empathy towards you, you’re a scared, hurt woman who’s all alone at night with no home. But, Arthur could tell you were running from something by the small bruises around your hands and wrists, and the instinct-driven fear in your eyes. He knew he shouldn’t ask you anything else, he knew he should just let you rest and drop you off at the doctor’s door, but his mouth betrayed him as his voice filled the air with the first question on his mind.

“Whatcha runnin’ from miss?”

…

‘She’s awake, I felt her tense up. Now I know she’s runnin…but from what?’ Arthur thought, ‘Could be anything: family, a husband maybe, or maybe something else…’ He couldn’t help but think the worst for a second. You’re just a woman who was riding to town, fell from your horse, and got caught up. That’s all, not everyone lives like him.

But after years of running, you learn a thing or two —- if you get caught, it’s best to be quiet and stay quiet.

Neither of you spoke as the horse marched along the road. Tension surrounded you both, the air filled with uncertainty as whispers of doubt flood your mind. Your silence made Arthur question your being even more now, he knew you were trying to come up with a lie. So he figured he wouldn’t give you the chance.

"Clementine, Do you have a bounty?"

Arthur was greeted to silence once again. His brow furrowed as he exhaled out of defeat.

“I don’t for now, but I know things will catch up to me. Things always do.”

"Mhm."

He looked back down at you — you noticed that he clenched his fist, which was something to worry about. He sighed, and continued on.

The ride wasn't much longer — after around 5 minutes, you began to hear the night-life chatter and noise from the town. You scan around trying to find a doctor’s office or infirmary, you look slightly behind and notice Arthur’s small scowl.

“Something wrong Arthur?”

"Nothin', just... just thinkin’."

He slowed Blue down as he carefully weaved his way on the main dirt road towards the town’s doctor, looking down at you as he did so. Pulling softly on the reins, Blue stopped in front of a worn, yet sturdy post with a huff escaping his loose lips.

‘Finally! Now just thank Arthur, maybe give him some money for helping and go inside.”

Your hand reaches for your satchel, but you feel Blue’s smooth coat instead.

‘Huh, my bag? Where’s my bag?!’ Patting around you, you feel nothing but wet skin, clothes and leather. Realization shot through your eyes.

“Wait! I don't have any money, I don't have anything! Everything I owned was on my horse. How am I gonna pay for the doctor or a room at the inn?!”

Arthur dismounted Blue and walked to his saddle. He took out his wallet and counted his cash, before taking out around $10, and handing it to you.

"Use that for the inn. I'm taking you to the doctor considering I’ve come this far."

He held his arms out waiting for you to grab him first, not wanting to hurt you. You weakly, yet happily accepted then, started off once more, and you held onto him as he did.

“I can’t take this, Arthur, not this much. How can I repay you?”

"You don't need to repay."

He stopped and pulled you closer.

"Ya' got no idea how many debts owed to me aren't paid back. This is a favor, Clementine. Take it."

“But I want to repay you. It’s only the right thing to do, Arthur.”

"Listen, Clem. That money means more to you than it does to me right now."

You huff as he smirked slightly.

“Fine. I'll drop it for now, but I am repaying you, Arthur Morgan.”

"Fine."

He sighed and continued walking on the dirt with you in tow. After a few more minutes, Arthur’s mud-caked boots reached the base of the porch steps

“Do you mind helping me again, Arthur? sorry, I can’t walk on my own and I think steps would be challenging.”

"Don't worry about it." He said, a small smile appearing on his face. He helped you climb up each one until you were passing through the doctor's door, and had you sit down in one of the waiting chairs.

"C'mon Miss Clem, we'll be here for a while."

“My ankle won’t stop throbbing and I feel kinda dizzy if I’m honest, Arthur.

"Just tryna calm down, Clem. Try to relax."

He sat down in another chair beside you putting his hand on your shoulder, trying to put you at ease. You try to focus on all that’s around you: the man coughing on your left, Arthur’s hand on your right shoulder, but the room still spins.

“But I'm tired…my eyelids are heavy…”

"Just try to rest, I'll wake you up once it’s your turn, alright?"

Arthur looked at you as you grew tired, his brow raised at concern. He knew your body was finally crashing after what he imagined was a fight for your life— a hand rubbed the top of your head and you lended right into it.

“You’ll stay here, right? I know that we just met, but don’t leave me here…please?”

"I'll wait here. I'm not leaving you here."

He smiled to himself. Arthur knew watching as your breathing became steady, slowly falling asleep.

“thank you, Arthur…”

—-

A few minutes later, a call for Clementine was called out from behind the counter. Arthur woke you up with a little shake. You stir, rubbing your dry eyes with a yawn and stretch.

"Hey there, miss. Wakey wakey. It's time to go, time to get checked."

You groan, “Okay and you’ll stay, right?”

He nodded.

"I'm not leaving ya' here alone. Don't worry." He smiled, helping you stand. He held you up, walking you down the long hallway to a room, filled with medical tools. He opened the door for you to enter.

“Okay…but promise me you’ll be right out here and I'll shout if I need you.”

Arthur stepped out of the room, closing the door. He sat down outside in a waiting chair, and waited. You sit awkwardly in the brown leather chair as pain weavers in and out of your body. Praying that the doctor would come at any moment as the thumping from your ankle filled your brain. You close your eyes and steady your breath, waiting.

“OW!!” You felt a pinch and a rush through your veins, your body jerked. Your eyes shot open and suddenly you couldn’t move, an arm locked you in the chair.

���Ma’am, please stay still so I finish preparing you and hello, I’m Doctor Drews. How are you feeling, darling?”

The doctor turned to a small, metal table and began rummaging through his tools. You can’t help but stare and feel strange —- scared, sore, and even more dizzy than before.

“U-umm in pain…my ankle got tr-trapped.”

‘C’mon focus. Breathe. The room’s not spinning… the room’s not spinning.’

He chuckled.

“Well that I can see. May I remove your boot, sweetheart?”

‘What’s with the pet names? Fuck! What did he say? My boot, right? Focus, the room’s not spinning.’

“Yes, that’s um fine.”

There wasn’t a still object in your vision. The room keeps spinning and slowly, your eyelids cover the world. You try to fight it but can’t, everything is heavy. Your body’s too heavy and can’t move, you start to go limp. The back of the chair below you lowered now laying angled.

You felt warmth and a tingle trail along your frame. You felt something wrong, deep in your gut.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

[cloudyswritings]

More Hallownest foods

Fried Hopper legs and Chips: This is essentially the KFC of Hallownest. Recipe below:

First remove the legs of your hopper, taking care to remove the tough connective tissue at the base of each leg completely.

Once all of the legs have been removed gently crack the chitin but leave it on the meat. This will prevent a buildup of steam under the carapace while it's being fried.

Roll each leg in a breading(ground nuts can be used for grain intolerant bugs) and apply a health dose of salt.

Finally dunk each leg into boiling oil and cook for 2 minutes, the center of the meat should still be moist and slightly chewy.

Next make the chips: they can be made from Fallowroot tubers, but if you have them Waste-gourds are preferable because of their rich flavor and crispy texture when cooked.

Add a pinch of whatever spices you prefer.

Finally, cook them until both sides are crispy.

Gel-Salad: A dish traditonally used for dessert, it consists of a rich jelly filling(usually green or blue) and a mix of spun sugar, frostings, and pickled sugar-root. It's served in a glass bowl and made to resemble the blue lake with small lilypads made of frosting.

The size and complexity of this dish generally reflects the importance of the event it's served at. this is partially due to the cost of the ingredients.

A variation of this dish using hemolymph gelatin is often used for carnivorous bugs and makes for a better savory after meal snack.

Soul-Cider: A drink made by fermenting pale-vine berries in soul.

This drink is especially time intensive to make, and fermentation can take upwards of 30 years to be finished. Nonetheless this drink is one of the most widely produced in Hallownest and is a significant export of the kingdom as a whole.

The material the fermentation barrel is made of can drastically impact the taste, so all of the best breweries in Hallownest have been in competition to find the best material. Rumor has it that one of them even approached the white lady and asked her for a cask made from her growth.

Miner's pie: A lovely meat pie commonly made by the miners of the crystal peak, the main meat of this pie is glimback meat, and though the miners can't generally afford to be picky about what they each only the choicest cuts of glimback are tender enough to eat(specifically those directly under the shell). Special care has to be taken to remove any shards of crystal in the meat being cooked, especially because ingesting crystals is just asking for them to begin growing inside of you. A traditionally topping for Miners pie is diced Fling-weed and mashed Fallowroot.

These savory pies are generally large enough to serve 3-4 bugs and are sometimes served out of the shells of young Glimabacks which have been turned into bowls(a practice which has endangered the species)

#hollow knight #headcanon #food #fantasy food #lore