#sitting there about to lose it like boy sure hope no one sees me tearing up while playing fucking *solitaire* on my laptop

[alexa-fika]

hi! Do you mind writing something with a 3y/o child reader and the white beard pirates? Like specifically everyone is celebrating something, and then child reader slips and gets hurt and starts sobbing really loud and all the pirates are panicking?

Parties and Falls (Whitebeard pirates x male!reader)

A/N here we go! And along with this being a request I also wanted to dedicate it to @henrioo since I saw you were feeling down because of the lack of male readers out there and I wanted to cheer you up, this is not one of my best works but im hoping I can make more pieces so that you and all the male readers out there can enjoy and feel included!

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which means reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

With a Yonko as a captain and one such as infamous as Whitebeard, one who was able to fight on equal ground with the Pirate King Himself, people usually thought of the Whitebeard pirates as a fearsome foe, and although it was true that you would not want them as foe, behind all that lied a close knitted family who all enyoyed one thing, partirs

With a whole bunch of pirates who could drink whole barrels of alcohol, they are the kind of crew that would throw whole week-long parties with everyone involved, and that was the case right now

Dokucha was not the exception. He always had a grand time when all his brothers were brought together on such a happy occasion

He wiggled his way around his brothers to reach the bar where Ace was currently sitting, struggling slightly to climb the top of the stool.

“Ace-nii, can I drink some of that too?” The boy asked, pointing to one of the pints the flame user was currently downing

“Sorry, lighting bug, you can’t have this.”

He pouts, leaning his head on the counter

“But everyone is having it!”

He chuckles

“Sorry, Dokucha, tell you what, how about you ask Thatch to prepare you something? I'm sure he can whip up something delicious for you.”

The boy lights up at that

“Really?!” He beams, the grin on his face quickly returning

“Yes, really, and make sure to thank him. He should be on the kitchen.”

“Okay!” He exclaimed, excited at the promise of a beverage; however, it was in his excitement that he forgot he was on top of a stool; losing his balance, he fell to the ground, the sound of the chair hitting the wood below being drowned by the cries of the child, the crew quickly sobering up at the sound

The entire crew looked down at the small child who was now crying on the ground; some were already rushing to get to him

Izou was the first to reach the small boy, picking him up and giving him a hug, trying to calm him down

He wraps his hands around his brother, their cries still ringing around the Moby Dick

“H-Hey Dokucha, hey, hey, don’t cry, lighting bug, it’s okay. We’re going to take care of you,” Ace reassures him, gently patting the head of the boy

“It hurts!” He cries

“Where does it hurt?” Ace asks as Marco makes his way over to the two

Thatch follows behind, rushing over

He simply points to his hands, small scratches littering them from their fall to the floor

Marco sighs, igniting his flames and holding Dokucha’s hands, healing all the small scratches. However, this did not lessen the cries of the small boy as tears rolled down his cheeks, hiccups escaping him.

“Buttercup, you’re okay. Look, see, your hands are all better now,” Vista says, joining his brothers in trying to calm down their youngest frowning when he shook his head and dug his head deeper into Izou’s shoulder as he continued crying and screaming

Whitebeard, who so far had been watching the whole ordeal play out, stepped in, gesturing at Izou to hand him over, who obliged

Whitebeard smiled gently at the crying boy in his hand

“There, There was that scary?”

He nods

“Y-yeah, and it hurt.”

“Well, you are alright now; look at you; there isn’t a scratch on you now.”

He cries, looking at his hands, and just as he had told him, there were no marks on his hands

“Breath in and out for me, yes, just like that, see you are okay.”

He sniffles, rubbing his eyes dry

“It was really scary.”

“It was scary, huh?” he says with a soft smile

“You feel better now?”

He nods smiling

“Thank you, PaPaw”

Again it’s not my best works but I really hope you enyoyed and @henrioo I really hope this was able to cheer you up a little, and I will try to write more male!reader from now on!

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece fluff #one piece x child!reader #whitebeard pirates x child!reader #whitebeard pirates x reader #one piece x platonic!reader #one piece x male reader #whitebeard x male!reader #whitebeard x reader #op whitebeard #whitebeard one piece #whitebeard crew #ace x male reader #portgas d ace x child!reader #ace x y/n #portgas ace x reader #thatch x child!reader #marco x reader #marco one piece #izou x reader #izou one piece #vista x reader #vista #thatch x reader #ace x you #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace

[kiiwiigii]

Misunderstandings

Alec x Fem! Reader

Summary: Reader is under the impression that her mate, Alec, wants nothing to do with her. He decides to prove her wrong.

Warnings:

Smutty, smut, smut, smut

Blood kink

Dom/Sub vibes

Alec speaking in Italian

I suck at summaries.

Word Count: 3,499

A/N: Requested by the ever lovely @rosedpetal Alec isn't as dark as I wanted him to be, but there's always next time. *wink, wink*

I remember the moment our eyes met. That luscious pull, full of want and desire. A red string of fate, pulling and pulling until finally, we were right there before each other. I had heard of him, of course. The witch twins had quite the reputation in the vampire world, just how they liked to keep it. 

He simply stared, slightly taken aback and just as surprised as I was. To top it off, we were on opposite sides of what could have easily become a battlefield. I had been called in as a witness for the Cullens. I was somewhat of an anomaly. Only one of three known human and vampire hybrids, including Bella and Edward's child.  

When Aro had extended his hand, it was all over. I was kindly invited to stay in Voltera, with Alec. Everyone was well aware of the fact that the invitation was more of an order, and I accepted. I had wanted to be near him anyways. Who wouldn't want to be near their mate? 

Well, apparently mine. 

I had been here for nearly three months, and he avoided me like the plague. 

When we did speak, our conversations were short and stilted, and he usually wore a pained expression.  

And then I heard the conversation. 

I had been looking through the books on the upper floor of the library, hoping that considering all the books here, there was a section with modern day thrillers. I needed something to keep me sane. 

I heard his voice from below. 

"Master Marcus?" 

"Alec." Marcus answered, voice soft. 

"Is there any way to change it?" 

I backed away from the railing slowly, pressing my back into the shelves. I could still see them both from my position, their silhouettes highlighted by the large fire in the center of the library. 

"This is the second time you have asked me this, Alec." There was a warning in Marcus' tone that I had never heard before. "My answer has not changed." 

"But she's part human!" Alec growled. 

They were talking about me. I clasped my hands over my mouth in an effort to keep quiet, but I couldn't stop the tears. My mate didn't want me. 

Marcus stood suddenly. "Be happy that you have a mate at all, boy." 

Alec suddenly stiffened and looked right at me. Perhaps he smelled my tears, or maybe he finally heard the slow beat of my heart. A flurry of emotions flitted across his face, but I didn't bother to see what he landed on. Instead, I fled, for once using my vampiric speed to seek refuge in my room. 

I've been hiding here for a week now. I think it's been a week; I was already losing track of time. 

"Y/N?" There was a knock at the door, following the sound of Demetri's voice filtering through. 

"Yes?" 

"You're not naked, are you?" 

The door opened slowly, and Demetri peeked his head in with a cheeky grin, before frowning as he took in the sight of me. I was sure I looked a hot mess, bundled up in a nest of comforters on the floor next to my bookshelves. 

"Hey 'Metri." I sat up, giving him a small smile. 

"Hey, love." He walked over before sitting on his haunches net to me. "Everyone is worried about you. No one's seen you in a week." 

"'M fine." 

He gave me a dubious look and I rolled my eyes and wrapped myself back up in my covers, picking up the book I'd discarded. "I'm fine, Demetri." 

"When was the last time you ate?" 

I paused, thinking and then shrugged. I couldn't remember. I just ate when I felt hungry.  

"Well, we can't very well have you starve. Come on." He stood up and held out a hand. 

"I'm fine, Demetri." 

"And you're a liar, now come on." 

I plopped down in my little nest out of frustration, purposely burrowing myself deeper into the covers. 

"You can't make me." 

"Wow, for someone who's- what? Sixty years old? You're such a child." 

I glared up at him. 

"I'm an adult and can take care of myself." 

"Demetri, what are you doing with my mate?" 

Demetri's back went ramrod straight and I immediately hid under the covers. Okay, maybe I was acting a little bit like a child. I hadn't spoken with Alec since the library incident, and I wasn't very keen to talk to him now. I peeked out from under the covers a little. 

"I'm making sure that Y/N is taken care of." Demetri's voice was neutral, but I could hear the anger lying just underneath. "Something you have been failing to do since she arrived." 

I gasped, wide-eyed. Demetri was treading on very thin ice. I couldn't imagine Alec taking too kindly to being challenged. Alec was quiet for a long moment, tense as he looked at Demetri. 

"I can admit when I am in the wrong."  

The words came haltingly, and the look on Alec's face was caught somewhere between a chastised schoolboy and sucking on a lemon. 

"Thank you for taking care of her in my absence. Please leave, I can take over from here." 

Demetri nodded his head, and casting one last concerned look in my direction, he left. 

Alec looked at me, and I was surprised to see a look of concern on his own face. His next comment took me by surprise. 

"Why are you on the floor, when you have a bed?" 

"I'm aware I have a perfectly good bed. I just prefer the floor." 

"What about the couch?" 

"Not the same." 

"That cannot be comfortable for you." 

"Since when did you care about my comfort?" I snapped. "I'm just a mutt remember?"  

Alec's eyes darkened.  

"Watch your tone girl. You may be my mate, but I will not tolerate disrespect, even from you." 

My shoulders deflated, hiding my face in my hands. "I think it'd be best for me to just leave." 

"No." He followed Demetri's earlier move, and sat down on his haunches, arms resting on his knees. 

"No?" I glared at him. 

"You belong to me. You are my mate, and it is safer for you to be here." 

"Excuse me?? You've made it clear that you don't want anything to do with me." 

"It is simply because you are part human." 

"Simply? Simply? News flash, Alec. You were once a human too!" 

I found myself suddenly on my back, him hovering above me, with his arms caging me in. His eyes turned pitch black.  

"I am all too aware of what I once was." He hissed. 

"I- I can't change what I am." I could feel the tears starting to form and spill over. "If I could, if it would get you to accept me, then I would. But I shouldn't have to." 

Alec jerked back slightly, wide-eyed. 

"You are right." He pressed his forehead to mine. "And if I was a better man, I would not have wished for it." 

He began licking away at my tears and I froze, barely daring to breathe. 

"What- what are you doing?" 

"Taking care of my mate. And you are mine. I will not let you go, and I will make sure that you are taken care of just as the status the mate of an elite guard deserves." I shivered when he finished, giving a small, chaste kiss to my forehead. "It seems that I have much to make up for."  

Alec kissed me then. Slow and soft, pulling me out from the cocoon and sweeping me up to sit on the little couch in my sitting area. I felt oddly exposed as he pulled me in to straddle him, his back leaning into the soft cushions. 

"And you- you accept me? Just like that?" I couldn't disguise the anger in my voice, a little thrown off by our new position but still pissed off. 

There was a long silence as he searched for the proper words. 

"That day, in the library… I had a long talk with Master Marcus. Are you aware of his story?" 

I nodded. If there was something I had learned during my first few short months here, it was that Demetri and Felix were like a group of gossiping teenage girls. 

"Then you can understand his demeanor. He misses her every day, and I know that I have neglected you and treated you rather…" 

"Horribly?" I finished for him, and he smiled. 

"I think horrible is an understatement." 

"I think I must agree." I grumbled. 

He let out a chuckle before letting his eyes roam over me again. "While I hold Master Marcus in high respect, I do not wish to be like him. I do not want to make the mistake of taking you for granted. You were made for me, and I you. The Fates do not make mistakes." 

"Despite my being what I am?"  

I found that hard to believe. 

"Yes." He said quietly, but this time he didn't look me in the eyes. 

I tensed around him, and I felt his grip tighten on my waist. 

He was lying, but perhaps not for the reason I thought. My eyes widened in realization, and I relaxed against him. 

"You know what I think?" I hummed quietly. 

He looked at me from under his lashes, raising his brow ever so slightly, eyes dark with challenge. I should probably tread carefully but fuck it. I let a shaky hand run through his hair and he tilted his head back to look at me, exposing his throat. I let my other hand cup his neck, running my thumb along his jawline.  

"I think that maybe… you're scared. And you have no idea how to handle it. That's what you ended up talking with Master Marcus about, isn't it? Because I'm weaker than a full-fledged vampire. Am I right? You think I can't protect myself." 

Boom. Judging from the look in his eyes and the surprise on his face I had hit the nail on the head. 

"You are oddly perceptive." 

"Sometimes." 

He paused again. 

"I do not wish to lose you. I am sure word has already gotten out that one of the witch twins has a mate. I have basically painted a target on your back." 

"One that I am more than willing to wear, so long as you never treat me like this again." 

He relaxed and began to let his hands wander in light caresses, leaning in to give me another kiss, this one just as soft as the last. 

"Never again." 

"Good." 

I could feel my heart swell. 

"I have missed your presence." He whispered, his lips barely grazing mine. "I have missed seeing you in the castle." Kiss. "Seeing your beautiful face looking around in wonder." Kiss. "Seeing you laugh." Kiss. "And I have missed you. You have no idea how often I have imagined you here." Kiss. "In my arms." Kiss. "And even in my bed." Kiss.  

Woah, woah, woah. What? 

He grinned darkly at the look on my face. "Oh yes, darling. I have imagined you in my bed from the very beginning. In more positions than you could possibly imagine." 

Had I not been pretty much immortal I think I would have died.  

"I have imagined all of the different ways to claim you, and make sure that everyone knows you are mine." He whispered in my ear, nipping at my earlobe before sucking on it softly. 

This is not where I pictured today going. I wriggled a little bit, feeling my nipples harden almost painfully. This was not fair. 

"Careful, love." His voice was strained, and I felt him grow hard beneath me. 

"You started it." I nearly squeaked. 

"And I would like to finish it." 

His hands were cold against my midsection, and I was suddenly very, very aware of the fact that I was dressed only in an oversized t-shirt and panties. He kept his eyes trained on my face, watching for every little reaction. 

"If you don't want this, I can stop." He breathed, rubbing slow circles on my waist with his thumbs. 

"Trying to come up with excuses, Alec?" 

For whatever God forsaken reason I felt like needling him and pushing his buttons. A part of the back of my brain told me that was really fucking dumb, but I wanted to see what he would do. 

He growled and squeezed my waist in warning. 

"I think I recall telling you to watch yourself earlier." 

Oh my.  

"You said to watch my tone." I raised a challenging brow. 

His hands dug into my waist now, and I was certain I would have bruises there in the morning. 

"Amore." Another growl of warning. 

I simply leaned in to kiss him, happy to finally have my mate here with me. Knowing that he didn’t really hate me but wanted to keep me safe. He was just being a dumbass about it. 

He let out a little groan as our lips met. I let my kisses roam downwards, over his cheek and to his neck, nipping and licking. His hands drifted up, thumbing over my nipples before giving them a rather hard pinch. I sucked in a harsh breath, leaning on his shoulder and grinding my hips downward. He let out a pleasured hiss, giving my nipples another pinch and smoothing his thumbs over them. 

"Arms up." He demanded. 

I did as he asked, and he pulled off my shirt. I immediately crossed my arms over my ample bosom, suddenly self-conscious.  

"Hands behind your back, darling." 

I looked at him startled. "What?" 

"I will not have you hiding from me, nor will I repeat myself." 

My heart leapt at his words, gripping my arms tighter. 

"Sorry, it's just…" 

He frowned and slowly took my hands, lowering them down until I was completely exposed from the waist up. 

"You are not to be ashamed, and I will not stand for it. You are my mate. You are stunning." He said softly. 

He ran his hands over my skin again, his lips following right behind with a lightness that I almost couldn't detect. And not in a sexual way, although I could still feel his hardness underneath me, but in a reverent way. Worshipping. He cupped the back of my neck and brought me in for another kiss, deeper this time. 

"Now love, hands behind your back. I will not tell you again." He rasped, one hand sliding around the front of my neck and the other brushing against one of my nipples. 

He gave my neck a light squeeze in warning, his thumb brushing over my jugular. This time I did as I was told, and his lips twisted into a grin that could rival the devil's. 

"Good girl." 

I sucked in a breath. Oh fuck.  

He kept watching me. "Are you okay?" 

I nodded, a little dazed. 

"You have to say it aloud, Y/N." 

"Yes." I breathed. 

"If we need to stop at any point, tell me." 

"Okay." 

"You are a fast learner, aren't you?" He leaned in, close to my ear. "I like that." 

His hand left my throat, and he went back to cupping my breasts, kneading them softly before he bent his head and gave one a long lick, right over the nipple. Then he proceeded to suck one into his mouth, teeth edging along the sides. 

"Alec." I moaned, throwing my head back. 

I couldn't help it when my hips started grinding, but Alec immediately put a stop to that. 

"The only pleasure you will get, is what I allow you to have." 

A thrill went through me, and I opened my mouth to protest but it came out as a whine instead when he kissed me, tongue running along my lip and slipping past into my warm mouth. I then let out a shocked moan when his hands traveled further south, slipping his fingers into my panties and coming to rest on my soaked mound.  

He rubbed teasingly, fingers finding my clit. Round and round and round. I squirmed against him, obscenely wet noises coming from below as he slipped two fingers inside me. His fingers began pumping in and out of me, combined with rubbing my clit, I could barely stand it. 

Flushed, I pulled back a little, panting against his lips. 

"Please." I whined. 

"Please what?" 

"Alec!" 

"I want to hear you say it, Y/N." 

"Alec. Please. Fuck. Me." 

His eyes dilated at the sound of his name.  

Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, I could hear the sound of something ripping, and realized that my panties were torn to shreds and dangling precariously from my hips. My warm, wet heat was exposed to the cool air, and his pants were undone, his cock out, with precum already leaking out of the tip. I panted like a whore in heat at the sight of him, eyes glazed and desperate. 

He brushed his cock through my slick folds, completely in control. Then he slowly lowered me, my tight folds giving way and I let out a long moan of pleasure when he bottomed out. He was huge. I wasn't sure how he even managed to fit, or how he was going to be able to move. His arms circled around me, grasping my backside firmly. 

"You managed to take my cock like a good girl. Now let's see how well you handle it." 

"Wait, wait!" 

He paused, looking up at me with concern. 

"Can- can I move my hands now?" I pleaded. 

He smirked. "No." 

He thrusted his hips up without warning and I gave a shriek of pleasure. His pace was fairly brutal, and I loved every second of it. He kept sucking and licking at my neck, leaving a trail of dark, bruising love bites, and my nipples scrapped against his shirt. The pleasure was almost too overwhelming, it made the walls of my pussy clench around him. 

"That's a good girl. So tight for me." He groaned into my neck. "How does it feel, taking my cock? To have me stretching you out?" 

Oh fuuuuuck. 

Alec was a dirty talker and I fucking loved it. 

He pounded into me without mercy, and I could start to feel that delicious heat building down low. 

"Yes. Yes. Yes." 

I didn't realize that I had been chanting aloud until Alec let out a dark chuckle. 

"Please." I begged. 

He seemed to break. 

"Hang on to me." 

My hands immediately went to grab his shoulders, clutching at his shirt. I was pretty sure I heard a rip, but I was too lost in the sensation of being, you know, fucked out of my mind. One of his hands slipped down low again, his deft fingers circling my clit. 

"Vieni per me, tesoro." He then proceeded to bite into my neck, right in the dip where it met my shoulder, and the sharp pain sent a wave of pleasure through me. 

Mixing with the pleasure of his cock and the stimulation of my clit it was enough to send me crashing over the edge. I came hard, Alec's mouth muffling my own, swallowing my cries. His hands tangled in my hair, giving it a light pull. I could taste my blood in his mouth, and I found that I liked it. I swiped my tongue over his lips to get more. 

Alec let out a surprised gasp, pulling back, his hips slowing down to shallow thrusts. His face was smeared with a little of my blood, and I leaned back in, giving him a lick before delving back into his mouth with a kiss, enjoying the taste of him and my blood mixed. 

"Fuck." He groaned against my lips. 

I dared to take a bit of control and ground down hard, making sure to squeeze the walls of my pussy to the point where he almost couldn't move. 

"Fuck!"  

Alec went rigid and then spasmed as he came. 

We stayed like that, breathing hard for a moment, before he finally pulled out of me with an obscenely wet popping noise. I blushed and he simply gave me a grin. An actual grin instead of the devilish one I had come to know. 

"Are you okay?" He asked and I nodded quickly, practically glowing with happiness. 

"Words, amore." 

I giggled. "Yes, love. More than okay." 

"Good, because I'm ready to have you moaning my name again." He whispered, licking away the blood I had smeared on my own face. "Preferably in my bed." 

{Masterlist} // {Request Guidelines}

Translations (Provided via Google): Vieni per me, tesoro.: Come for me, darling. Amore: Love

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#alec volturi x reader #alec volturi #alec volturi smut #volturi #twilight #fanfic #reader insert

[joeybsversion]

Surprise

Joe Burrow x Reader

You have a big surprise for Joe on his birthday

“Since it’s my birthday, think we could just stay in bed all day?” Joe mumbled, half awake, his body intertwined with yours under the crisp sheets.

“And who would run practice?” You giggled and forced your sleepy eyes open.

“No one. They’ll just cancel it. We can lose the next 100 games if it means I get to spend all day with you in bed.” He kissed the top of your head.

He was so warm, every part of you wanted nothing more than to stay snuggled up with him. “You don’t mean that, Joey.”

“Hmph.” He pouted, pulling himself from bed and heading to the bathroom to get ready for practice.

In hopes of cheering him up, you followed close behind with some exciting news. “I have a surprise for you when you get home.”

“You do?” His eyes lit up a little kids. “Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Because.”

“Because?” He questioned.

You looked at him, his excited face so hopeful he’d convinced you to tell him early.

“Because?” He asked again, eagerly.

You gave him a flirtatious smile and headed out of the room.

“Get back here!” He ran after you, wrapping you in a big hug from behind. With his arms around your waste he whispered “Tell me.”

“I’ll tell you when you get back.” You laughed, his breathe ticking your neck.

“You’re no fun.” He crossed his arms and headed back to the bathroom.

Joe came over and gave you a kiss as he headed out the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Joey.” You called after him.

You spent the next hour getting ready, wanting to look your best for Joe on his birthday. As the time ticked closer to the end of practice, your heart began to race. What if he doesn’t like the surprise? A million thoughts run through your head as you finish wrapping the gift and place it on the bed. The front door opening interrupts your thoughts.

“I’m home!” Joe yells through the house.

You run through the living room to meet him. “Welcome back, birthday boy! Is it finally time to celebrate?” You wrap him in a big hug.

He raises an eyebrow. “I think it’s time for that surprise.”

You laugh knowing he must’ve thought about it all of practice. “Follow me.” You take his hand and lead him up to your room. “Close your eyes!” You instruct him as you get closer to your room and help him to sit on the edge of the bed. “Open!” You shout.

He looks around the empty room, a puzzled expression crossing his face. “Where is it?” He laughs.

“So.. that’s the problem.” Your hands begin to shake. “It won’t arrive for another 7 months.”

He only got more confused. “What would take 7…” as his words drifted, so did his eyes. They left your face and made your way to your stomach. He seemed to expect you to look different. But you’d done your best to conceal it.

He stared for what felt like an eternity. You waited for him to smile, or laugh, or jump up and down in excitement. He sat there frozen and it started to scare you.

“Joey?” You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Are you alright?”

His eyes filled with tears and never left your stomach. “I’m not sure how, but I love you 100 times more now.” He said in awe. He finally looked up at you. “Are we really going to be parents?”

You nodded, feeling all of the emotions rush through you. You pull the small box you had wrapped from under your pillow and hand it to him. “Surprise.” You whisper, trying not to cry.

He opens the box containing the positive pregnancy test and stares at the screen.

“You’re going to be a dad.” You beam.

Finally, Joe rises from the bed and wraps you in the biggest hug. “This is the best birthday ever!”

#joe burrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow one shot #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow insta au #joe burrow instagram #nfl smut #nfl fluff #nfl fan fic

[heizenka]

𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

♆ Luke Castellan x f!reader

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

— content warnings: mentions of blood, semi-gore, use of y/n, angst, ooc luke, death

— word count: 1.0k

Luke stood in front of her with shaky hands. His sword began to feel like it weighed more than the world, of course that was impossible, as his world was falling apart right in front of him. His world was dying at his own hand and all he could do was stand and watch as the pool of blood surrounding her spread, creating a red abyss around her body, an abyss that he couldn’t get past just so he could hold her for what he thought would be the last time.

 Her eyes searched the surrounding forest around them wondering if there was anyone close by that would find her body and give her a proper send off, because surely Luke wouldn’t . Finally her eyes locked on Luke’s, his flooded with anguish and guilt, her’s with anger and gratitude. 

Luke dropped his sword, and took three small steps towards her, not looking at the massive gash he’d created in her upper abdomen. Y/N showed no sign of fear or sadness, and that scared him more than anything for some odd reason. The girl he’d known was never one to never show her emotions or speak her mind, that was something he’d adored about her.

“This wasn’t the plan Y/N..” The tears that were building in Luke's eyes suddenly became too heavy and fell, leaving trails of regret down his face. 

Luke reached to hold Y/N’s hand, hoping to comfort her in what were going to inevitably be her final moments. He had nothing on hand to help her, and he knew he couldn’t afford the risk of ruining his entire life plan just for her. Her being the girl he’d known for years, the girl who was going to forever hold a piece of his heart, the girl that was going to be the last one to ever see this side of him.

His fingertips grazed her hand and for a moment he felt every ounce of pain ten times more than before. Y/N could see it in his eyes, everything he’d done was finally hitting him, the entire situation was becoming too real for the boy who had taken on so much, but in the end knew nothing.

Y/N pulled her hand away from him, not in sadness or grief, but rather in frustration. Luke lifted his eyes up from her hand to her eyes. His brow furrowed, she looked fine. There was no expression on her face, no tears, nothing. He was falling apart in front the girl he’d loved for years and she looked like she couldn’t care any less about the fact that she was leaving him behind and going somewhere he could no longer follow

“What’s wrong with you..” His brows furrowed in pained frustration, “Why don’t you care about what is happening right now! I’m a traitor, and because of me you’re dying, but you don’t even care!” Luke’s voice raised an octave, desperate for her to have some kind of reaction. 

“Luke, there’s nothing wrong with me, in fact I feel more free than I have in years.” There remained no expression on her face as she spoke, “there’s nothing left for me to do here, I’ve already done everything I needed to do in this lifetime.”

Luke's expression went from one of anger into one of sadness, “What do you mean you have nothing left to do..? You have me, us.”

“No Luke, there is no us anymore. Look at me. I’m bleeding to death because of you. You don’t get to tell me that I should grieve the life I could have had with you when I don’t even get to finish this one.” Y/N’s face remained expressionless. 

Luke swore he’d never felt pain like the kind he was feeling now. He’d practically killed the girl he claimed to love, and now he has to face the consequences of losing her.

“The funny thing is I would have married you if you’d never done this. We were so happy, and like everything you touch, you destroyed me, Luke.” Her eyes began to feel heavier with every word she spoke.

Luke noticed this, but all he could do was sit next to her frozen in fear. His lower lip began to quiver. ‘I would have married you’ it felt like he’d taken an arrow directly to the heart from Y/N herself. As he looked at her slowly drifting in and out of consciousness, his mind began to drive to what would have been if he wasn’t so fucked in the head. 

It would have been them for the rest of their lives. Maybe they would have had a kid,  and he would have had the chance to do what his father never did. Instead he did the same thing, he destroyed the person who he was supposed to love most in this world, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. 

“I’m sorry..” His voice was raspy with the tears he was attempting to golf back so he could have one semblance of control at the moment. 

His eyes lifted to Y/N’s face, and his world shattered. Her eyes were closed, and her chest no longer held the steady beat that used to calm him down whenever they were together. The tears he was holding back fell, and he couldn;t find it in himself to care about anything other than the body that was sitting lifeless in front of him. 

For the first time in his life Luke Castellan felt everything and nothing at the same time, and he had no one to turn to.

#angst #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader angst #percy jackson x reader angst #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #y/n #luke castellan imagine #pjo series #luke castellan x reader #the lightning thief #heroes of olympus #percy and luke #percy jackson show #pjo x reader angst

[marymary-diva17]

Hello there! How about something mixed of angst and wholesome?

Ronal births her third child [Y/N] , was a momentum occasion. But after the lose of neteyam, neytiri can't help but be a bit close to reader . Too close for ronal's comfort.

Thank you!! 💞💞💞

mother ronal x daughter reader + neytiri

avatar masterlist

A gift of a child could change anyone life upside down, but mostly when it came to a parent a new one or old one. As their lives will never be the same ever again. Mother was always the ones that seem to be great changed when it came to a child of their own or another child. The life of a child was something that was so precious and taken serious, but when it come sot a lost of a child there was grief that was will overcome a parent. This grief will sometimes change a parent and nothing will ever be the same again, now what does someone do when a grief as overtake a mother and brith of other child has overtaken another mother as well.

Ronal " thank you neytiri for watching over my daughter as I take some time off and work" ronal had given brith to her third child and she had become overwhelmed, and was seeking some help so went to neytiri. A women with many children and seem to have a good experience with dealing with so many children at once.

neytiri " sure it good to be helpful towards you ronal I will make sure the child is safe and well take care of"

ronal " thank you again so much" ronal had nodded her head she soon kissed her daughter goodbye before leaving, it seems like both mother had been affect by the major events of this week.

neytiri " it going to be okay young one" neytiri held you in her arms she was starting to remember the days when all her kids were, this small and so cute. It had been some time since she had laid her oldest son to rest, and she had become very affected by the whole matter.

neytiri " lets hope you don't have to face the hardships of war and the effects of the evil humans that come" since neteyam death neytiri had become more overprotective of her family, she didn't wish to lost anyone else to the demons.

neytiri " you remind me so much of my boy neteyam .... so fill with joy and wonder" you had looked at her giving neytiri and gummy smiling making her smile as well, she remembered when her kids use to smile at her like that.

neytiri " oh did y/n you are a child of the great mother who has blessed you into many people lives" neytiri was sitting down and play with you, watching you splash your hands in a puddle of water. The laughter of a child was something that could bring a smile to anyone at the moment.

neytiri " wait not put that down" neytiri saw you grab a bug as you were trying to eat it but, she had taken it out from your hands. This had made you look sad and soon tears starting coming down from your face.

neytiri " hush little one don't cry it okay it all okay little one" neytiri soon picked you up and started rocking you, trying to make you stop crying and making you happy again.

neytiri " it will be okay it will all be okay" neytiri soon stated signing a lullaby she knew from the forest, and it seems to making you clam down.

????? " neytiri" neytiri soon turned around and saw ronal standing there, it seems like ronal might of been there for a while now. So she saw and heard everything that had happen at the moment.

nwytiri " oh ronal"

ronal " I came to check on my daughter to see how everything was going, but it seems like it going well"

neytiri " ........"

ronal " ......." both mother were looking at each other not saying anything.

ronal " neytiri would you like to go for a walk"

neytiri " yes" the two women soon went for a walk ronal was now holding you in her arms, the two women walking with each other.

ronal " I want to say seeing you so close to my daughter make me uncomfortable"

neytiri " I'm sorry"

ronal " no I'm not mad I feel jealous since my daughter brith I feel like I can't connect with her, and the fear of losing her as well"

neytiri " a parent shouldn't have to lose a child"

ronal " I'm sorry for the death of your son he was a great boy and warrior as well"

neytiri " he was the best your daughter will be great one day, but I fear for her and all the children ... that this war will keep going on and ruin their lives that they wouldn't have normal lives anymore"

ronal " yes many lives had bene lost and destroyed"

neytiri " I wish the children will not have to live during a time of war, but I feel like that going to happen anyways"

ronal " as mother we have to protect our children but there are times, when we can't always keep them safe from harm" ronal ahd kissed your forehead and you were babbling about something.

ronal " my daughter will have to face war when she older and I don't, know how to explain everything that happing to her"

neytiri " you are not alone ronal I have faced that as well when the times comes you will tell her, and but when she older enough this all will be over and she will start the times of peace and harmony"

ronal " I hope so" Both women were sitting on the dock together walking and watching over you as you, were playing with some wooden toys.

neytiri " we are mother we will always love our children and do anything for them, I feel like I failed as mother my son dead"

ronal " you haven't failed neytiri you are good mother and maybe one day you will see him again, just because he no longer here he will never be forgotten" neytiri node her head towards ronal it seems like the two had bonded over something else, as they watched you play and smile. They were hoping that this war will end so all of their children will be safe form harm and that they can live normal lives, and bring back the peace and harmony to pandora.

sorry this request us late I have been busy with my life that I was held up on request, and I was working on other stuff as well.

#avatar 2 #atwow #avatar #avatar x reader #avatar x y/n #sully family x reader #neytiri #neytiri x reader #avatar the way of water #ronal x y/n #ronal x reader #ronal x you #ronal avatar #ronal #ronal x daughter reader #tonowari x daughter reader

[russellsppttemplates]

Bestie, I adore this new generation of yours! How about mama reacting to Hervè's dating life? Feels like shes the one with a big reaction when her baby boy brings a girls home and is all lovey dovey. Maybe he's just like his papa and she keeps teasing Charles about it.

Note: thank you 🥹 I wasn't expecting it, but I love writing about them!

"I'm sorry, could you point me to the bathroom, please? Hervé said it would be the only door and I'd recognise it but I think I went to the laundry room instead and I don't want you to feel like I'm snooping around the house", Hervé's girlfriend said as you and Charles loaded the dishwasher.

"Oh, it's that one on the left, near the stairs", you walked closer to the door with her, "and don't worry, I think the most shocking thing you'd find is either a mountain of my work files or unfolded clothes", you chuckled, hoping to put her more at ease.

Walking back to the kitchen, Charles noticed your smile, "she's a good girl, very polite and very kind", he noted, "she is very sweet, I understand why Hervé is so enamoured of her", you replied back. Chuckling, Charles couldn't help himself, "so no more finding you crying in the bathroom because your baby boy is no longer a baby and that some 'girl' is taking him away from you", receiving your threatening side eye.

"What does he mean when he says he's bringing his girlfriend? Does he even know what having a girlfriend is?", you reasoned, gesticulating and amusing your husband, "seriously, Charles. Maybe it's just a girl he likes, some good friends. He's still my baby boy and I'm not going to let some girl think she can just swoop him off his feet.", you said seriously to you husband, annoyed at his gleeful expression.

"Amour, you have to take this easy. I think I know who she is, I saw her when I picked him up the other day. He kissed her cheek and blushed all the way home even though I didn't even touch the subject", Charles tried, "Oh, I'm sure she fell for his eyes. They always glint, it was the same way with you. You Leclerc boys always find it in you to make us all swoon", you pouted, cuddling your husband as you wiped your cheeks, the tears now stains.

"Like I said, she's a nice girl", you stated, "and if he's happy, I'm happy too".

During the afternoon, you couldn't help but notice how Hervé behaved. He always offered her something whenever he got up to get something for himself, his arm resting on her thigh or around her shoulders, their giggles at a shared inside joke and how he looked at her. The signature Leclerc glint was inherited from his father and it left your heart feeling cosy at the thought that your boy was in a loving relationship.

"I loved it when you did that for me", you pointed out, focusing your eyes so Charles could also see Hervé's girlfriend resting her head on his shoulder as she spoke to Amélie about something from school, "now you don't love it anymore? Your head goes to my shoulder the minute I sit down next to you, woman!", he teased, kissing the side of your head, "he's learnt from you, and I know for a fact that that girl is being very well treated and cared for because of that", you kissed his jaw, "we Leclercs know how to care for our loves".

Later on the night, Hervé's girlfriend had left already and he was helping you with folding the table back to its usual size, tucking the middle piece of wood so it would be stable, "you really like her, don't you?", you asked, approaching your oldest son, "I do, mama. I know I'm still young, but right now this feels good", he said, "but that doesn't mean that I don't have space for you in my heart", he smirked, "Papa told me about your meltdown", he stretched his arms for a hug, making you hug him back, "you're not losing me, okay?".

"I know, I know, but you made a mama, I obviously can't let you go with anyone", you giggled, "besides, Amélie is all instructed in how she should be treated, I know she won't accept less than she deserves", you chuckled, "and I still have Thomas", you reasoned, "but the day someone comes to get him away from me, your father is going to have to have to pull his A game to distract me from it. I'm talking swoon worthy dates like the one where we both admitted we loved eachother because my heart will be broken".

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#charles leclerc blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

[geeky-politics-46]

Just Hold Me

Pairing: Sinister Stephen Strange x Reader

Summary: Something is wrong. You are acting odd & all Stephen wants to do is help you feel better

Warnings: Not much, light angst & references to potential depression. Fluffy ending. Sinister being the most loving devoted boy ever even if he doubts himself.

Totally a self-comfort piece. I've been feeling sad & this is what I want right now.

He wasn't used to seeing you this way. In fact, in all the time you had been in his universe, he had never seen you like this before. The light was missing from your eyes. You weren't crying, but your normal sunny disposition was nowhere to be found.

Your face was a blank slate. You didn't seem angry or outright upset, but your smile was nowhere to be seen. Even when he put on your favorite show, you weren't smiling and giggling like you normally would. It was breaking his heart.

You had always been the sunshine to his dark storm cloud self. You brightened his day and cleared away the gloom and cobwebs that had invaded his mind for years. He hoped that he hadn't somehow accidentally extinguished that fire and light that made you so enchanting. That was something he knew he would never forgive himself for. 

Even the weather outside had shifted with your personality. The cracks of sunlight that had started illuminating the barren land below, lulling it back to life, had dimmed. Storm clouds and low rumbles of thunder followed in the next few days. By the third day, it had begun steadily drizzling on and off all day.

Perhaps you wanted to leave but didn't know how to tell him. He was sure he would die if you did leave, but he wouldn't keep you there if you were no longer happy in his world. Or with him. Maybe you decided you couldn't love a monster like him anymore. He wouldn't blame you.

He found you sitting in your shared bed, bundled up in blankets, and just staring out the window. Watching the raindrops pitter patter against the window. Your hair hadn't been brushed in a day or two, and you were still in the shirt you slept in. 

"I know you have said nothing is wrong, but I know you are lying, my love. You can tell me if you want to leave. If you aren't happy with me anymore. If you have changed your mind about us. Or if I have done something to hurt you. I will make it right in any way that I can. Even if it means losing you. Your happiness is the most important thing in the multiverse to me." 

Your heart ached that you made him question your love for him. That had never even been a thought in your mind. You loved Stephen unconditionally. In fact, even you couldn't pinpoint what you were feeling or why you were feeling so withdrawn. You couldn't stand to see his eyes looking like a scolded puppy, and you immediately wanted him to be near you.

"Oh, Stephen. Come here. 

You unwrapped yourself from the blankets and patted the spot next to you on the bed. Wanting him to join you in your blanket cocoon.

"You haven't done anything to hurt me, and I definitely haven't changed my mind about us. I love you more than anything, Stephen. I'm just feeling really down, and I don't know why. It's stupid, and there's no real reason why that I can think of. I didn't want to bring your mood down with me, but I guess that didn't really work, huh?"

He had brought himself to sit in the bed next to you. Not wanting to touch you until you gave him permission, but he grabbed one of your hands in his as you wiped away a couple of stray tears with the other. 

"Trust me, darling. I have been to the depths of despair, and nothing you could say could bring me down. Not as long as you are here and you let me help you. Now, what do you need? Do you want anything to drink or eat? I can get you some more blankets to snuggle in. I can put on one of your favorite movies. I can leave you alone if you want me to, but I'd rather be here if you'll let me. Even if we just sit here in silence."

Your heart warmed at the honesty in his eyes and in his voice. You had never met a man quite like him. One who had seen and felt so much in his life. Had his world ripped apart in front of him, and yet all he wanted was to make you feel better. Even just having him next to you now made you feel a little less sad. A hint of a smile pulled at your lips for the first time in days. 

"Can you just hold me, please, Stephen? I just want to lay here and listen to the storm and have you hold me tight. I don't really know what's wrong with me right now, but you feel right to me."

He smiled at your request. He was so hoping that you would let him hold you. He knew that having you in his arms was always what made him feel better when the dark thoughts and lingering voices from the Darkhild threatened to overtake his mind. 

"Of course darling. All you ever have to do is ask." 

With that, he snuggled down under the covers and held you tight. Spooning you from behind and making sure his body touched yours as much as he possibly could before using his magic to pull the soft fluffy blankets up around both of you. Restoring your little cocoon you had made with both of you inside it now. Your hand quickly found its place over his, and your body wiggled to get even closer. 

He pressed a couple of soft, comforting kisses to your shoulder once you had found your comfortable spot. His heart fluttered a little when he heard you sigh and felt you relax into his arms. Letting your body melt into his. 

You stayed like this for what had to be hours. It didn't matter to him how long he stayed there. He wasn't going to let you go until you told him to. He would hold you until the universe collapsed around you both if you asked him to. His reason for living was to be the mooring that held you steady in both calm and stormy seas.

He knew you were on the verge of sleep by the way your breath pattern changed. It was only then that he let his own guard down and let himself begin to drift with you. Then, in the smallest and sweetest tone, he heard you whisper. It was barely audible.

"Thank you, Stephen. I love you."

He smiled softly to himself. Nudging his nose into your hair to get closer to you still. Whispering back into your ear, the truest words he had ever spoken in his life.

"I love you too, darling. Always and with all of my being. Though good and bad."

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

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Stephen Strange Taglist: @starkiller-queen @glitterylokislut @verycollectivecreator @chatampr @maskmare931 @lovecleastrange @wheredafandomat @mkixx @evelynrosestuff @katefullerrr @littlepinknightmare @foofarny @stygianoir @moonroyalt @saturnsbabe69 @blaxdet @blackrose-92 @ironstrange1991 @rindulacre @nancy-thompsons @wolfatheartandsoul @dangerouslittlefairy @n0obmaster-69 @oliveoilthoughts @onebatch--twobatch @yourmajesty13 @blondekel77 @lil-sweater-slut @gwephen @taramaria @sinceimetyou @slashersrus @coeurgrenaty @cc13723things @just--a-magpie @supervengerslock @strangelockd @dont-feel-so-good-peter @kingsmanperfecthartwin @ghost-lantern @inlovewithloki16 @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @itssmaugtheterrible @katherinemaximoff @veryfancydoilies @cute-angi @mochacake2016 @prix19 @alexfanficnook @anotheroddfish @namor-is-the-way @xourownsidee @baes-x @dreamingsmile @negar77rd @imaginesfreetotake @ppatricia34me @rougepetale @tis-vereon @divinearchangel @sherlux @hiddlechive @ginnykate @thatesqcrush @friendofplenti @yuugenmomo @holdmyowos @the-royal-petals @lokislov3 @captaincarmel164 @lucimorningst4r @mydearalmira @petalcranberry @singhfae @emotionsareforuglypeople @trappedinlimbo15 @veryladyqueen @icytrickster17 @kentucky-criedfricken @briefhandsstudenttoad @calamityismyspecialty @sinisterstrange616 @patbrdac @trojanaurora @azu21 @massivehahaao3tree @strangesgirl @tobios-shawty @evelyn-kingsley @rmoonstoner  

#sinister strange #fluffy sinister strange #sinister strange fluff #sinister stephen strange #sinister strange x reader #sinister strange x you #sinister strange x y/n #doctor strange #stephen strange #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #sinister strange angst #doctor strange fluff #doctor strange angst #stephen strange fluff #stephen strange angst #fluffy doctor strange #fluffy stephen strange #stephen strange x you #doctor strange x you #dr. stephen strange #doctor strange fanfiction #sinister strange fanfic #sinister strange fanfiction #doctor stephen strange #doctor strange x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x fem!reader #doctor strange x female reader #benedict cumberatch

[munson-blurbs]

Hurt People

This is just me giving an accurate depiction of what would most likely happen if Eddie Munson was real and went to high school with me. I’m sad tonight.

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, insults, bullying

WC: 718

—

You don’t know how you didn’t see it coming. Maybe it’s because he’s Eddie, the boy—young man, really—thrust into the fringes of society because of his affinity for metal music and fantasy games. Maybe it’s because you’d assumed outcasts, loners, losers, looked out for one another. Or maybe you were just delusional, rose-colored glasses shielding you from what you couldn’t, wouldn’t see.

You and Eddie don’t have any classes together, with you electing to take honors classes and him struggling with introductory courses. You’d never judged him for it, never thought less of him because of it; some people’s talents lay outside of academia. Rumor has it that he’s a decent guitar player, though your parents’ strict rules forbid you from checking out a gig. Truly, you don’t know much about him except that he’s on his third round of senior year and, in your opinion, is the cutest guy at Hawkins High.

The opportunity to befriend him presents itself in the unassuming form of Honor Society volunteer hours. Mrs. O’Donnell needs someone to tutor Eddie in chemistry so she can get him the hell out of her class, and you eagerly offer to be his teacher. Quiet afternoons together in the library might lead to secrets whispered, kisses shared…

The first tutoring session is…fine. Eddie’s completely disinterested in the material, which is to be expected. You keep drawing his attention back to the lab report he’s supposed to be writing, trying to maintain your composure as your patience wears thin.

When he’s barely accomplished anything at the end of the hour, you tell him to meet you back in the study room tomorrow after school.

“You need to hand this in on time,” you say softly but firmly. “Don’t wanna lose points for late work.”

He grumbles as he grabs his tin lunchbox and carelessly shoves the lab report into his backpack, not even saying goodbye.

The next day, you muster up the courage to approach his lunch table. You’ve got your old chemistry study guides clenched in your fists; the idea is to offer them to him so he doesn’t have to reference his own scribbled notes for his upcoming quiz. Just a casual, “hey, I figured you could use these.” Yeah, that could work.

You’re ten feet away when you hear his boisterous laugh. “Oh, and get this,” he’s saying to his friends, “she wants me to study again with her today! Like yesterday wasn’t bad enough.”

“Dude,” one of his buddies chuckles, sympathetically shaking his head and clapping his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “it’s just your luck that the one girl crushing on you happens to be the ugliest girl in the school.”

Your blood runs cold, nerves buzzing in anticipation of Eddie’s response. Surely he’ll tell the guy that he’s gone too far, that poking fun at your appearance is uncalled for.

But Eddie just gives him the finger and replies, “tell me about it. And now I gotta sit there while she makes heart-eyes at me, unless I wanna face O’Donnell’s wrath. Again.”

Tell me about it. Tell me about it. Tell me about it.

There’s no defending you, no sense of irritation with his friend’s statement. It’s pure, unfiltered agreement.

You’re the ugliest girl in school, and even Eddie Munson thinks so.

Tears blur your vision as you make a beeline out of the cafeteria, dumping your papers in the nearest trash can. You’re sorry you wasted your precious time digging them up. Humiliation seeps into your skin. It doesn’t matter if no one else heard him, because you did. And the information isn’t novel to you—you’re not Chrissy Cunningham or Nancy Wheeler, not by a longshot. No, you’re embarrassed because you’d deluded yourself into thinking that Eddie could see you in a way that others didn’t, in a way that you simply couldn’t.

A large part of you hoped that Eddie would see your status as a fellow freak and applaud you for it, welcome you into his group, take you under his wing. That seems like a pipe dream now.

It’s like that old cliche: hurt people hurt people. Maybe if you were bravier—bitchier, even—you’d hurt him back. But for now, you’re too tired from dragging around the burden of your existence.

Hurt will have to wait another day.

—

#eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #angst #hurt/no comfort #eddie munson x reader

[chronically-ghosted]

Have Yourself a Moreno Little Christmas

rating: T

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

word count: 6K

summary: when the Morenos' happy Christmas is in jeopardy, you think quick and invite them on a trip to an old family tradition. If he’s grateful, would it be safe to tell him how you feel? But why do you think he might already know? What if he feels the same way?

warnings: heavily influenced by the movie While You Were Sleeping, your typical amount of angst for a romcom, mutual pining, ballet in the park, a moody pre-teen, brief discussions of losing a loved one (parent/partner), bad dad jokes, canoodling in the park, one steamy kiss and a few other softer ones

a/n: Happy Secret Santa @noisynaia! You had Marcus M as your number one Pedro boy of choice, and given that I’d never written for him before, I wanted to do something wholesome and sweet in the world of super heroes. The Nutcracker has always been near and dear to me so I hope you like this take on it! @pedrostories

This will be my last fic of 2023 so - much love, stay warm, and happy holidays! 🤍Masterlist

What do you get a man who has everything for Christmas? A tie? A money clip? Something aggressively manly that smells like woodsmoke, patchouli oil, and the raw sweat of a lumberjack after felling a thousand forests?

What do you get a superhero for Christmas? Indestructible tights? A decorative plaque for his swords? A life-time supply of gauze and iodine? 

What do you get for your boss, superpowered and single, with the ability to turn a paperclip into a rose? A silver ball into a flat pancake? Decorative swords into deadly weapons? What do you get him that is even remotely useful or exciting or heartwarming when he is so busy with being a single father and mentor, a symbol and an icon, all while running the world’s foremost superhero operation? 

Somehow, “world’s best boss” mug feels rather . . . subpar. 

What do you get him if he’s become one of your closest friends? When you try to wiggle some sort of information out of him about a potential gift on one of the many long nights where you’re stuck together doing paperwork for the UN and the NSA – but he is annoyingly vague. 

His daughter – a fiery mix of headstrong and thoughtful, soothed by a loving kindness that clearly runs in the family – is no help. She teases you with promises “oh yeah, definitely get him a new spatula” when you both know the man has never been anywhere near a BBQ grill. You give her the rest of the Reeses that didn’t make it into the community candy bowl anyway. 

You can’t ask for ideas from his mother, or his teammates, the security guards at the headquarter doors, anyone with eyes (who’s not ten years old) because then they’ll know, you sure of it. They’ll see and that’s just not something you can ever, ever, ever bring up because . . . 

What do you get for a man who is your boss, a superhero, a leader, a father, your boss, a very close friend, your boss, someone you very much admire . . . and as a result, have fallen deeply, painfully, achingly in love with?

Your still beating heart on a silver platter seems like the obvious choice. A bowl of your tears for unrequited love is a definitely strong second option. A lock of your hair so the FBI can easily identify you as his certifiably insane stalker – there we go, brilliant idea. 

A kiss under the mistletoe? A promise for more? 

That damned mug is looking better and better every day.

You knock three times, then one more before opening the door. Behind unnecessarily thick glasses, Marcus glances up, life returning to his face when his eyes fall on you.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the president of Belize is on line one for you.” 

The man with sticky, molded blonde hair sitting across from Marcus turns around and smiles. His teeth are freakishly white, all stacked together in tight, proper rows. His suit, freshly pressed and clean of any evidence of interaction with the world, carries a giant button on the lapel: Vote Tine!

“President of Belize, my, my, Mr. Moreno, you are a busy man!”

Marcus stands, his gaze peeling off you to the politician in front of him. “Mr. Tine, I apologize, but I have to cut this meeting short–,”

“Ah, it’s no trouble at all!” He stands, batting his hand through the air. “Just as long as we’ll see you at the next rally, right, Marcus?” 

He holds out a perfectly square hand and with a tight-lipped grin, Marcus shakes Tine’s hand. 

“We’ll see, Senator.”

“Wonderful, wonderful, alright, I’ll get out of your hair. Mr. Moreno . . .” he bows slightly before turning in the direction of the door. You catch a glimpse of him the instant the smarmy smile slides off his face as, with wolf-ish eyes, he evaluates you from your ankles to the candy-cane broach on your chest. You don’t smile as you shut the door after him – as if you’d be bothered by greasy politicians and their wandering eyes. 

Marcus all but slumps back in his chair before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his palms.

“Every time election season comes around, they all want the Heroics’ vote. Until Miracle Guy chucks Dr. Evil through the Empire State Building and suddenly it’s ‘we need these vigilantes off our streets’ . . .” He shakes his head and slips his glasses back on, watching as you take the vacated seat. “Sorry, none of this is your problem. What does the president of Belize want?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you say, tapping the corner of your pad with your stylus, “his slogan sucks. Justine Tine – just in time. I’m not unconvinced he didn’t change his name for the sake of a cheesy one-liner.” 

A small smile cracks open the dreary look on Marcus’s face. His eyes flicker to the door. “Seems like the type, doesn’t he? I think you’re onto something.” 

“So that’s item one, for the day.” You stand, curling your pad into your arms, you lean on Marcus’s desk, knee against the edge. 

He stares intently at your face. 

“Number two, I just checked our records and there’s no Dr. Evil anywhere in our data banks. The Empire State building is safe, for now, so you can stop worrying about that.” 

You mime-checking off something on your pad and the grin on Marcus’s face softens. 

“And number three . . .” you pick up the phone on his desk, that suspiciously doesn’t have any blinking red lights. Marcus frowns, noticing this for the first time, when you lift up the receiver and drop it down. His mouth parts.

“Belize has a monarchy. A king, not a president.” 

The frown deepens. You wait. And light parts the sky. 

“Oh. Oh – you didn’t – that’s – really?”

His eyes are round, wide, relieved, and you want nothing more than to run your hands through those curls. To rub those broad shoulders loose of their tension. But rearranging meetings and make up fake world leaders to give him a break is the best you can do. 

“Yes, really. The Heroics are prepared to make a sizable donation to Tine’s cause, and he will thank us at his next rally. So, Mr. Moreno, your next meeting isn’t for another hour, how would you like to spend it?” You smile, tapping your hanging shoe on the ball of your foot. “I suggest using it to eat something. Have you eaten anything today?” 

Marcus sighs, eyes falling shut for just a moment. “What, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, would I do without you?” 

You avert your eyes before the heat in your cheeks climbs too high, his eyes on you, and you hop off his desk. 

“Would you, hmm,” you clear your throat, your voice cracking in half, “would you like me to order something and have it delivered, Mr. Moreno?” 

He’s chewing on the skin below his lip when you raise your head from the pad in your arms. Being indestructible is one thing; having his face entirely inscrutable is one of Marcus’s most impressive superpowers. He nods, the look of distant contemplation gone. He flips through a few of the notes you’ve left him on his desk – calls to return, items for next week, reports he needs to sign: busy work. 

“Yeah, uh, that’s great. Pick something up for yourself too.” 

The mood has soured and you’re not quite sure how or why it happened. A second ago Marcus looked like he was going to pick you up and twirl you around the room. Now, he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You nervously tap your stylus against your pad. 

“Yes, Mr. Moreno.” 

You turn to go, his head down, his gaze fixated on whatever isn’t you, when he calls out your name again.

“Oh, um, did you manage to get anything out of Missy abour what she wants for Christmas when she was here last Friday?” 

You pause, remembering the uncharacteristically morose girl spinning listlessly in your chair while you watched from the break room as the hot cocoa warmed up in the microwave. You’d never seen so much as a pout on the girl before and no matter what you did, she didn’t crack a single smile.

“No, she didn’t tell me anything, but . . .” Now this is the part of your job that you loathe the most: trying to figure out the line. You saw Marcus as a friend, absolutely, but it’s not like you went and played volleyball on the beach with him, or went bar-hopping, or whatever it is adults with friends do. You love Missy more than you thought you could ever care about a child who isn’t your own, but you wavered how much to press her on her mood, because how did she see you? Nothing more than her father’s employee, most likely. In the end, you ended up getting one word answers from her until Marcus left his office thirty minutes later. 

But here you go, overstepping boundaries . . .

“Mr. Moreno, is she alright? The last time she was here, she seemed . . . I don’t know, sad?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, his eyes sharpened. You opened your mouth to profusely apologize when –

“Fuck.” Marcus tosses his glasses onto his desk and buries his head in his hands. The instinct to put your arms around him is so strong you take a step forward before you remember exactly who you are. 

How do you comfort the man you love when you shouldn’t love him at all? How do you comfort a superhero, when he’s a father first and human second?

Keeping the desk firmly between you, you drop your pad onto one of the chairs and as slowly as you dare, you touch his forearm. He leans, not away, but towards you. He lowers his arms as you keep your touch on him. You squeeze once, looking down at his hopeless expression. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen with Missy?”

Marcus shifts his arm beneath your fingers, his fingers twitching, as if he wants to take your hand but instead puts his other hand over yours.

“This Christmas has just been really hard.” 

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them: “tell me.”

He looks up at you, eyes warm and wide in a way that only his can. Indestructible in the face of evil, inscrutable with his secrets, Marcus’s greatest weakness is Missy, and he knows it. You know you’re crossing a dozen professional lines leaning over him like you are, touching him like you are, asking him to open up. But you don’t care.

He presses his lips together, hesitant. He won’t look you in the eye. “You have to understand something first. Missy’s mom loved Christmas.”

His hand over yours tightens gently as if he thinks you’re going to pull away. You hadn’t considered it but your palm went a little damp at the mention of her. 

Oh God, you’ve so played your hand wrong.

Marcus inhales, his gaze on your knuckles. “Isabel, that was her name, and every year Isabel made Christmas this big event. And every Christmas she bought Missy a little nutcracker. Missy was barely out of diapers at the time, I don’t think she even knew what they were, but she loved them. Thought they were the funniest things with their teeth and stuffy white hair . . . but he other day, going through the decoration box, Missy found them all and I guess she suddenly remembered all those Christmases with her mom and she, uh . . .” 

He taps your wrist with his thumb, a tell he has when he’s nervous. The seat squeaks slightly as he adjusts himself in it.

“I haven’t been putting out the nutcrackers that Isabel gave Missy. The Christmas after she died, I couldn’t bring myself to put out any sort of real decorations, except for the tree. Missy was so young, I don’t think she cared. But as she got older, she never asked about the nutcrackers so I hoped she just . . . forgot about them. And she did, until she found them last Friday.”

“Last Friday?” You feel like you’ve been sucking on cotton. “Before she came to the office?”

Marcus nods. 

“Oh, M-Mar-Mr. Moreno, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.” 

“She was furious that I tried to hide something of her mother’s from her. And she’s right. I was a coward.” 

This move is an intentional one. You slip your hand out from his and cup his fingers around yours, as if guiding him. He finally looks up at you, guilt and shame and grief streaking his face like blurry rain against a window pane. 

“You are the bravest man I know, Marcus Moreno. You’re a superhero and a single father. Most people can barely handle one. She’ll come around, I promise.” 

You swallow the urge to bring his knuckles to your lips, and instead squeeze both of his hands and let go. You slide away from the desk, your heart tight in your chest when his thumbs pass over the palm of your hand. The look on his face is disappointed, you want to believe.

“Thank you. For listening and, uh, everything else. You’re right. I’ll just . . . well, I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll figure something out.” He leans back, elbows on the chair’s handles. Marcus Moreno, or what you know of him, doesn’t like to dwell, so you watch some of the heaviness shift from his eyes the moment he decides to change the subject. “What are you doing for Christmas? Are you staying in town? Going to see family – or a boyfriend?”

The warm in your chest, lingering from his hands, suddenly bolts across your face. “No, no, um, no, there’s no one –,” Would it be pathetic if you fanned yourself with your pad? God, how does the man work in here for hours with no fresh air? “No, I’m not going home to anyone but I am . . .”

And suddenly there it is. A solution to your Christmas present debacle and maybe a way to save Christmas for Missy Moreno.

You shake your head, beating back the rising heat in your cheeks. “Actually, are you and Missy doing anything this weekend?”

Marcus seems taken aback from this sudden turn in the conversation.

“Um, no. I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to show you and Missy something really, really special.” 

You swear the tips of his ears go pink. “Uh, okay. Sure. I-I’ll have to clear it with Missy, but yeah, alright. What time?”

“I’ll put it in your calendar.” You smile and slip your stylus back into your pad. “Have a nice lunch, Mr. Moreno.” 

He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck as you head for the door. 

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me, Marcus? 

You pause with your handle on the door. “At least once more, Mr. Moreno.”

The mug drops to last place.

Good news. 

If you’re ever stranded on a desert island, you’ll survive because you are already intimately familiar with the taste of your own foot in your mouth.

Why did you open with “Hey Missy, your dad tells me you’ve been having a rough Christmas?” to a sullen, grieving pre-teen? 

And can time actually go slower, when the air is so stifled with tension? When you’re absolutely sure you’re breathing too loud?

You’ve been glancing at Missy in the rear view mirror for the dozenth time in twice as many miles. Her face is turned towards the window so you can’t actually see the murderous rage in her eyes, but oh wow do you feel it. Nevermind superpowers, this little girl could char you to a crisp with her eyes alone. Potential step-mom failure award goes to . . . 

“So.” Marcus clears his throat and you tear your eyes back from the back of his daughter’s head. The fraught silence of the car stretches just long enough after Marcus’s statement to grate ever so gently – “um, how do you, uh, know about this place? Wherever, we’re going.” 

You bite the corner of your mouth. Marcus doesn’t appear angry that you’ve soured the mood with Missy before the drive even began. In fact, he looks genuinely curious, the light in his eyes bright. If it weren’t for that single line between his brows, you assume nothing is wrong, but you know that almost frown. Marcus is anxious. 

Great. 

You settle back in your seat, trying to look as relaxed as you can in a pillowy jacket, your hat and gloves in Marcus’s lap, along with his own. The snow outside stopped falling only a few minutes ago, lining the trees and road with a crisp sparkling white. If anything, it ended up being a beautiful day. 

You flex your hand around the steering wheel, trying to summon courage up through your body like your lungs inhale air. 

“It’s an old family tradition, actually. My folks would take us out here every year to watch . . . to watch the show.” You glance at him briefly before checking to see if that piqued anything from the roiling black cloud in the back. It didn’t. You hadn’t told either one of the Morenos your plans for this Christmas day. “But I haven’t been back in a while.”

“Why not? And please don’t say it's because of work.” The lilt in his voice has you looking at him, long enough to watch a small smile uncurl. You really thought it was impossible for Marcus Moreno to get any cuter, but with his woolen floppy cap covering his ears and the little white bob at the end fluttering in the warm heater air, you force yourself to remember you’re driving a 3000 pound metal death machine if you stare, starry-eyed, for too long. 

“No, it’s not because of work,” you grin back and his own crosses completely across his mouth. “It’s not work related . . . but um, after my parents passed away, my brother and sister moved across the country.” Your hands crinkle around the steering wheel. “I’ve spent most of my Christmas’s alone ever since. Coming here without them, i-it felt . . . wrong.”

In the rear view mirror, you think you see her move.

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.” The weight of Marcus’s gaze, his own planetary gravitational pull, has your nose drawing down then over. He looks genuinely regretful of your situation and you’re suddenly hit with the understanding that not only did Missy lose a mother, but Marcus lost a wife. 

Hell, maybe you can just continue up the bone and eat your whole leg while you’re at it. 

“Mhm hmm.”

The rest of the car right goes on in silence, except for the faint, ghost-like christmas carols playing from the speakers through your phone. 

When you pull off the dirt road and park your car in the cold grass with dozens of other vehicles, you can’t unbuckle fast enough. The patches of icy dead grass snap beneath your boots as you climb out of the car, and you’re struck in the face with a chilly wind. 

The words are on your tongue as you look at him over the hood of the car, the breeze snagging the little puff ball on the end of his cap, his glasses already misting over.

I’m so sorry, Marcus, this was such a bad idea. 

I don’t know how to talk about my grief or anyone else's and it’s been drowning me for years but I don’t want to pull you down with me. 

I’ll drive you anywhere you want I’m so– 

“Is this the Stanley Amphitheater?” Marcus takes off his glasses and rubs the condensation away. “This is where they have that jazz festival every summer, right?”

You’re so surprised by his tone that all you can do is blurt out: “yes.”

“So cool! I’ve actually been dying to check this place out!”

“Y-yeah?”

He smiles at you and you have to grab onto the door frame to keep your knees from buckling. 

“C’mon, Missy.” 

Tugging his hat further over his head, Marcus lopes forward and then he turns and reaches out for his daughter. The moment arcs, Missy’s stone faced glare demanding that he drop his hand, that he turn away from her, an inch away from leaving a mark that aches in a way that only a loving parent can feel from their loved child –

And she takes his hand. 

You watch them follow the crowd, blanket in hand, just a few steps behind them, and you breathe out.

Across the stone amphitheater, a low murmur of dozens of eager voices vibrate in the dugout cup of the earth. Children squirm with anticipation in their parents’ laps, couples share lingering gazes over steaming styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, an air of excitement and delight hovering between chapped lips and knitted gloves as the sun arcs lower in the sky. Just in front of the large stage, a live orchestra prepares, discordant cords breaking and rising like smoke. 

A man in a striped hat sells buttery popcorn and sweet, crunchy kettle corn in a small wooden hut a distance from the theater. A few families wait in line, children teasing one another behind their parents, their laughter light on the breezy air. 

“So, what is this?” Your head whips around at Missy’s first sentence all day. Marcus looks at you equally stunned. The blanket you’ve spread across three laps keeps you intentionally close so you have to lean back slightly to see her face.

“It’s, um–,”

“Missy, do you like ballet?” You ask

Beneath her maroon hat, her eyes lift up, her back straightening from its hunch. You wouldn’t call her look eager, but you cannot deny there’s interest. 

She nods. 

“Well, what we’re about to see is a very special ballet performance. Some people who have powers like your dad, they don’t go into crime fighting. Instead, they use their powers to make art.” 

She blinks, eyes widening. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” 

The fringe smile is hidden by a curtain of hair as Missy tilts her head down to her shoes, nodding. Marcus glances at you over the wool of her hat, surprise thinning the lines around his eyes.

“It’s getting kind of cold,” he says slowly, to no one in particular. “Anyone want some hot chocolate?”

“I do,” you wave. Missy nods, grumbling. 

Marcus waves over a woman in a striped hat as she wanders through the crowd. The metal box, hanging around her neck and strapped to her back reads, refreshments. 

He pays for three styrofoam cups just as the lights in the back of the amphitheater flicker and the orchestra winds down to silence. 

Despite the burgeoning chill in the air, and despite the grief dividing yet binding the three of you, and despite the fact that this may be your one chance for Marcus to see you as anything other than his assistant, you’re hopeful. Maybe it’s the music itself, that way that music has to ignite your soul when you need it the most, or maybe it’s the spirit of the season, but for the first time in a long, long time, you don’t feel so lonely. In fact, you can’t remember a time you’ve felt more connected than you do with the people next to you. 

Missy’s eyes are bright, flitting around the stage as if determined to not miss a single thing, the cocoa in her hands leaving a dark rim around her mouth that she is blissfully ignorant of. That already full feeling in your chest expands and you want nothing more than to hug her, hug her till she’s warm and hug her till she’s happy. Behind her, her father moves and it catches your eye.

Marcus has never looked at you before the way he is now. Inscrutable, undefined, but it packs such a punch in your chest it feels like you gulped down your entire cup of hot chocolate in one go. You turn away, fearful of what he might see in your eyes, and realize the enormity of what you feel, how it’s all consuming and tugs at you when you least expect it. 

The music begins to swell just as the sun sets and the lights at the rim of the theater fade. You take a shaky inhale – nerves and excitement and memories good and bad weighing on your shoulders. 

And then it begins to snow. 

But not from the sky and it’s not yet cold enough for the consistent sprinkle. Snowflakes tangle with your eyelashes, in the wool of your cap. Then Missy gasps as a translucent ice crystal the size of her palm trickles down into her lap. Glinting like glass, the intricate design of the crystal flashes once before disappearing – not melting – just gone. Around you, other children hold out, giggling their hands as more beautiful flakes of enormous size flutter down from the inexplicable snow drift. A few adults reach out to grab some that burst like bubbles, a wondrous awe crescendoing across the crowd. 

From the wings of the stage, a man and a woman, dressed in beautiful light blues and silvers, silks glittering with inset shimmering stones, walk across the stage, their arms moving slowly, thoughtfully. 

In sync, they coax the air and the snow follows in a dance of white. Delighted shouts rise up as the snow and ice spin together, arcing and weaving, capturing the essence of a winter wind. The pair on stage bend, their hands flung backwards in a bow and the ball of snow shatters in an icy solar flare, the million white flakes fluttering over the crowd. 

Out of the exhilarated murmur that overtakes the crowd, one noise stands out above the rest. 

Missy laughs. She laughs as she watches a snowflake melt on the end of her nose. 

You wish desperately you could squeeze her to you.

The crowd applauds the snow dancers, bowing again before exiting the stage, as a woman in black steps out. Her short-cropped hair is nearly as white as the snow still melting on the ground and her eyes are crinkled at the edges. When she speaks, her voice booms without the aid of a mic. 

“Thank you and welcome to another annual Stanley Kirby production of The Nutcracker.”

Missy’s smile doesn’t fall from her face. In fact it widens. Your heart is pounding in your chest, as you watch her from the corner of your eye.

“I’ve been directing this play for twenty years now and I can honestly say I find something new and beautiful about it every time. Winter is often seen as the end stage, symbolized through literature and poetry as the time when we humans grow old. But I like to think that doesn’t always have to be true. Spirit, however you like to think of it, is exactly that: an endurance, a bravery, a force greater than ourselves that we can either embrace or let slide through our fingers. We hope you leave today with a little bit more spirit in you. Thank you for coming and we hope you enjoy the show.” 

She bows as two men enter in from the wings, these dressed in brown and green, the crowd clapping for both the director and the new players. 

A little girl, in ballet shoes and a pink dress with ruffles, her hair down to her back and tied out of her face with a bow, joins them on the stage and sits down in the center as the heavy velvet curtains pull back to reveal a backdrop imitating a hallway. With a large door, two round, gilded mirrors and a single chair. 

The orchestra begins, the dancers lifting their hands with a wave of a conductor. 

Shadows flicker at the back of the theater, eliciting shocked, almost horrified gasps from the crowd. But you know what’s coming. You don’t turn around. You smile.

Beside you both Missy and Marcus stare, mouths open, as eleven foot tall wooden nutcrackers amble down the stone steps between the seats, their knees stocky, their weight uneven as they march towards the stage. Their giant mouths creak and groan as the switch on their backs moves without any visible force. The green and red paint shines in the lights from the stage, their silver buttons glowing like stars. The dancers in brown coax them closer with a curl of their fingers and a bend in their arms. They begin to sway and spin across the stage, their legs outstretched and their feet curved into satin shoes, the little girl paying them no mind. Instead, she gets on her knees and waves to the marching soldiers.

More awed gasps as now teddy bears then porcelain dolls, the size of elephants, follow the nutcrackers down the steps, the orchestra keeping time and building a sense of whimsy and joy. The little girl bounds to the edge of the stage as the first wave of soldiers approaches. With a kiss from her hand into the wind, the first nutcracker freezes and then shrinks, the dancer behind the girl flicking his wrist. The crowd hums with delight as the nutcracker, now the size of a toy, floats next to the chair. One by one, the little girl greets the marching toys just before they shrink and find a place next to the chair. 

With the last doll fluttering in the wind as it settles, the little girl spins and twirls until she drops into the chair and seemingly to sleep.

The crowd roars with joy, a thunderous applause swelling in the amphitheater. 

But, best of all, Missy is on her feet, cheering and clapping. Her face glows in the light of the stage, her eyes bright and hopeful, her cheeks pink and chapped. In the shadows that flicker of people moving and applauding, beyond Missy’s curly hair, Marcus stares at you in a way that makes your heart grow bigger with every beat, his own silent music swelling the cage of your ribs. 

He reaches out his hand for you and you take it. 

He keeps holding you long after Missy sits down and the ballet continues.

A nearby park has set up Christmas lights in the trees and on the pathway. Missy, after promising to stay close, has gone and disappeared in the dark, off playing with a few of the other children who stayed after the show was over. 

Families sit on benches under covered awnings, the dark night cold but not encroaching, a food truck selling churros and Mexican hot chocolate mystifying the chilly air into white puffs as they serve eager mouths and cold hands. 

You walk the lighted path with Marcus, your arm tucked up around his. 

The sounds of children laughing fill the comfortable silence between you two. 

“This is going to be embarrassingly underwhelming,” he says quietly, the warmth of his body enough to keep a shiver at bay. “But thank you. That was incredible. I mean, I’ve seen The Nutcracker before, but this . . .”

He trails off, shaking his head, awe curling his mouth open.

“It’s pretty fantastic, right?” You smile up at him and squeeze his arm. 

He closes his mouth just as his eyebrows jump.

“Kinda makes me wonder if I picked the wrong profession, if other people are using their powers like that.” 

You chuckle lowly. “Ha, as if there’s anything you could be except a superhero.” 

“What do you mean?” The tone in his voice makes you pause. Just around the curve of the path, you’re hidden by silver-dripped trees and frost-covered shrubs. No children run here and the lights on the path are muffled by the overgrowth.

His eyes are dark when you look into them, but dark in the way under the covers of your parents bed is dark, or the dark in your friend’s mouths when they’re torn open with laughter. Dark in a way that holds and comforts and sinks deep. White mist puffs from his chapped lips, nose pink and cold. The lint from his scarf has stuck to the base of his neck. 

“You have to save people. It’s who you are. I don’t believe for a second there’s any part of you that could sit by and watch terrible things happen to good people. Your powers don’t change that.” You swallow, fingering the snaps on his coat as you stand face to face, the decision to say the words on your tongue nearly splitting you apart. “You saved me. If that counts for anything. You saved me from being alone on another really shitty Christmas and I–,”

The soft but determined press of his lips against yours brings silence to the grove, your words dissipating into the air like snowflakes. The whole of the world narrows down to the sensation of his mouth on yours; you forget the cold, the chilly burn on your cheeks, the sweat on your hairline where your woolen cap sits. You forget the sound of people in the distance, forget the lights in the darkness. He kisses like he works, methodically, confidently, and with intention.

His well-kept mustache tickles your nose, his lips a little torn from the cold, but the heat of his mouth warms you to your core. He holds you, his scratchy mitten against your cheek, the rest of him staying perfectly still, letting you savor his touch, commit the shape of his mouth, and by the quietest of moans rumbling in his chest, you think he might be doing the same. 

In the split second where you think he’s going to pull back, he cups the back of your head in his glove, sealing the hair around your shoulders to the collar of your jacket. Emboldened by your soft inhale, he turns his head, opening his mouth and more of himself up to you, and you, in turn, run as far as you can with this. You slip your arms around his scarf, trying to get at the heat of his throat, as he gathers as much as he can of you into him. 

You aren’t sure who eases you both back down from the clouds, who lifts hands and pulls apart, but your mouths separate, your noses inches from each other, and great plumes of white mist rise from your heated gasps.

“So I’m not crazy,” he murmurs, his eyes nearly completely hidden behind condensation. “There is something here. You feel it too.”

“Yes, Marcus, God, yes.” You close your eyes and bump your head against his as he sniffs in the cold, his cheeks flaming.

“That’s what it takes to get you to call me Marcus, huh? A kiss that knocks your socks off?”

You shake your head, laughing, your nose seeking out the solace of his warm skin. “‘Knocks your socks off’, you’re such a dad.” 

“Yeah, I am. And you made my daughter happier than I’ve seen her in weeks. I’ll never forget that.” 

The heavy rasp of his voice has your eyes seeking out his. You can’t quite find what you’re looking for behind the glasses, but his relaxed open mouth, the tilt of his head down to you, begs for more.

“W-wait – wait, Marcus.” You fight the sudden spark of images flying across your mind; his bare hands, free of gloves and mittens and wool, lifts your shirt up and those soft lips imprint themselves on the curve of your stomach; scorching water turns his back bright red as he tugs your knees tighter around his waist don’t worry I’ve got you; waking up to him stretched out naked and loose and finally relaxed. Your heart squeezes at the mere fantasy. Everything you’ve ever wanted, inches from your outstretched fingertips. “Are you serious about this?” 

Marcus grins, kisses your nose, and pulls you in by your scarf, as if you could possibly get any closer.

“Yes, I’m sure. Very sure. I haven’t made a choice this easy in years. Wait, I want to look you in the eyes when I say this.” He lets you go only to smear the condensation away from his glasses. Remind him to wear his contacts the next time you go out in the snow. 

Next time next time next time

“There.” He slips those thick-framed glasses back over his nose and then takes your hand. He holds it near his heart. “I like you and my kid adores you. I’ve been slowly going crazy at my desk, hoping that the way you smile at me is only for me, and that you don’t know anyone else’s coffee order by heart.” You huff a laugh, if only to loosen the knot in your throat. “What? I’m serious.” He chuckles with you before taking you into your arms again. His lips are warm against your forehead. “I’ve had it bad for you ever since you started, but I never said anything because I knew you were new to the city and you didn’t need your boss crypt-keeping on you.”

“I think the correct term the kids use is just creeping, but I get your point.” You tilt your head up into his waiting gaze. Warm like chocolate. Warm like the sturdy earth. Warm like . . . “And if my employment is the only thing keeping us apart, then I totally quit.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re totally fired.” 

You both laugh into each other, mist rising from your mouths, the corners of your mouths splitting in the cold. The temperature is steadily dropping, but you can’t seem to care. In fact, one big gust of wind could blow you away, suddenly lighter than air. 

“So does this mean I don’t have to get you a World’s Greatest Boss gift?”

He kisses your cheek and you feel it in your toes. “You’ve already given me exactly what I wanted.” 

“Merry Christmas, Marcus.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

#pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #noisynaia #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno fic #marcus moreno fluff #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character #marcus moreno x f!reader

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter forty one

close to home | chapter forty one

plot: the reader gets taken by the saviors

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,489 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!! Hope you guys are liking the longer chapters! This one isn't lol updated twice today not to brag but look at me go

The room was so dark you thought you were still asleep when you woke up. You thought you were in a bad dream. It took you a few seconds to realize the light was shining underneath a doorway, but it barely lit up the room. The back of your head was aching, and you were nearly positive you had a concussion. Slowly, you started to sit up. 

The room was small, like a closet. That was the only thing that you knew. Other than the fact that the saviors had you. Your hands were shaking as you dropped your head in them. You were with the saviors. And you were most likely going to die here. 

Tears burned your eyes as you thought about home and how you’d never see it again. You wouldn’t jog the streets of the community or read comics with Carl ever again. You wouldn’t laugh with Michonne or see Maggie and Glenn’s baby be born. You’d never see Daryl again. And you would never, ever see your precious Tora. 

The image of the cat’s face made you lose it, and you couldn’t stop crying. Your heart was beating erratically, and you felt on the verge of throwing up. “No, no, no,” You mumbled to yourself. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat in that room for. It wasn’t until your tears had dried and you were lying on the floor, defeated, that you heard voices. 

“I got the message she was up,” You heard someone say. 

“Yes, sir, about an hour or so ago.”

“Alright, well let’s get this done then, shall we?”

You heard keys jingling, and then the door opened. Your eyes shut at the bright light, and you raised your hand to shield them as you squinted. 

Two men were standing before you. One held the door open, and the other stood in the doorway. You couldn’t see his face as your eyes hadn’t adjusted, but you should see the figure of a lean man with a bat over his shoulder. 

“Well, well, well, if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.” The man said. “I sure am glad Dwighty boy brought you to me. Must be my birthday or something!” 

Your vision was finally restored, and you saw an older man with a dark beard. He was smiling down at you, but it made your skin crawl. 

“If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with,” You said. 

The man smiled and rubbed his jaw, “Huh. If I wanted that, you would be chained up outside already. Now come on, let’s get you off the floor,” He said, stretching his hand out to you. 

You ignored it and stayed where you were. “Who are you?”

“Oh, darlin’, I’m so glad you asked me that. I’m Negan. Now, don’t make me ask again.” He said, with his arm still outstretched. 

Your stomach tightened in a wave of anxiety and you grabbed his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. You glanced at the bat that was on his shoulder and caught him smiling at you. 

“This here is Lucille; she’s my partner in crime,” He gave you a playful wink. “But she doesn’t like messing with a face as pretty as yours. Well, at least not much.”

You nearly scowled at the threat but had the sense to keep your face neutral. 

“Come on, let’s go for a walk; we have some talking to do,” 

***

The ‘walk’ with Negan led you to a private room in the maze of hallways. You couldn’t tell where you were or even what this building was supposed to be. He walked before you, swinging the bat, and any person passing you knelt for him. 

You were left alone with him, and he pointed towards the table. “I had a meal prepared for us. I thought it’d be nice to talk over dinner. Nobody does that anymore, you know.” He said. 

The table was set up with two plates. As you sat down, you noticed there wasn’t a knife. Not that you would be stupid enough to try anything in this place anyway. You knew how many people were here. 

A few people came into the room and brought in food. You watched them in silence, and when they were gone, you looked at what food they gave you. It was some sort of chicken with actual vegetables. Fresh vegetables. The Hilltop. 

“Gosh, I’m just starved after a day like today,” Negan said, “Don’t worry about anything in the food. I don’t want to kill you.”

“I find that hard to believe,” You said. 

Negan smiled as he chewed and he leaned back against the chair. “They told me you had quite a mouth on you when they dropped you off here. It’s been a long time since someone talked to me like that. I forgot how much I liked it…”

You made a face at the lude comment and grabbed your fork, examining the food. “Why don’t you want to kill me then? At least for right now.”

“I believe people are a resource, and I believe you could be quite resourceful.”

“I believe it would be better for you to stop staying shit like that,” You said, stabbing a piece of chicken.

“Oh, darlin’, I just can’t seem to stop myself.” Negan chuckled. “I want you to tell me about the community.”

“I-.”

“And don’t tell me you’re not from there. I know it. You know it. And I think you’re smarter than trying to lie about it.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” You said, “It’s a community. Probably similar to this one.” 

Negan laughed and said, “I don’t think that’s true.”

“What even is this place?” You asked. 

“Why don’t you tell me your name, first?”

You looked at Negan as you chewed. “(Y/N),”

“The name as beautiful as the holder,” He chucked. 

You frowned. “Sweet-talking me isn’t going to get what you want, Negan. I will die before I tell you or any pig in this place anything. But it doesn’t matter. We’ll kill you all if you don’t back down.”

Negan looked at you for a long moment before he spoke. “But of course, you won’t be around for that then, would you?”

You dropped your fork and leaned against the seat. You knew his game now. “I don’t intend on it.”

“Well, I don’t think I can let that happen, now, can I?”

***

You weren’t sure how long you were in the dark room after that. Telling time was next to impossible, and you feared you would be left here to rot. But it was favorable to torture, and you considered yourself lucky. 

You’d been in there for hours before someone came to collect you. You were delivered directly to Negan--who you hadn’t seen since the dinner you shared with him. He smiled widely as you were forced towards him. 

“You ready to see your family, darlin’?”

You weren’t given a chance to respond. A bag went over your head, and you were roughly thrown into the back of some sort of van due to all the space you had. It started up immediately, and you fell over as it drove. With the bag over your head and the dark inside of the van, time moved slowly. You could tell it was for a while and thought you were headed towards Alexandria. They’d somehow found the community and would most likely beat you to death in front of everyone. 

The dark closet was preferable. But you didn’t want to wait any longer for death. Everyone lived on borrowed time since the world went to shit, and your number was being called. You could live with it if it meant your family would live. 

When the van stopped moving, it was parked for a long time. You couldn’t see what was happening outside, but you could vaguely hear voices. You heard the door roll up, and someone grabbed you. 

Your body hit the ground, and you groaned as you were pulled back up to your feet and forced forward. You struggled with every step, trying to fight back, but whoever pushed you forward was strong. 

It was quiet, just crickets chirruping when you heard someone’s voice getting louder as you approached. “It’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon.” Negan.

“Oh shit, looks like you forgot someone, Simon!” Negan laughed; you could tell this was just a part of his games.

You struggled against the person holding you for another few steps before you were pushed to the ground. The bag from your head was pulled off, and you squinted in the light momentarily before you took in the scene around you.

Your family. All lined up.

#daryl x y/n #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd #daryl x you

[fluentmoviequoter]

hey! i loved your imagine with dalton, so i was wondering if you could write another one with possesed Dalton x reader! Please<3333

Thank you much!!!

What I Said in the Dark

A/N: I may or may not have done a little happy dance when I saw you sent another request; thank you so much!! This was requested several times and I enjoyed writing it, although I'm not sure how I feel about the final product.. please let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy :)

Update: Part 2 has been posted! What We Do in the Dark

Warnings: canon typical violence/threats, I used Dalton's possession scenes from Insidious (2010) and The Red Door (2023) as inspiration, lots of 'closing the door' symbolism, angst. 1.1k+ words

Dalton’s voicemail message plays for the fifth time in as many minutes while you look at Chris and huff. “He’s still not answering.”

“He’s fine; probably just painting,” Chris reasons. “Or has company. You don’t have to babysit him, you know?”

“I’m just worried. The power was out longer than before and you know how he is about the dark.”

“I know that he is a big boy who can take care of himself, and I know that we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

Debating how much time you have, you bite your lip and look at the small drawing Dalton had given you sitting on the nightstand.

Chris sighs and moves toward the door. “I also know that you won’t be able to enjoy yourself until you know he’s ok. Go check on him, invite him, whatever, and I’ll see you later.”

Responding with a farewell, you gather your things and walk through the halls to Dalton’s dorm. Since becoming friends with both him and Chris, you find yourself here often and find pride in the fact you’re close enough to Dalton that you don’t have to knock. You open the door as you say Dalton’s name. Closing the door behind you, you notice all the lights are out, and Dalton is standing in the corner, out of fear of the dark, you presume.

“Dalton? Do you need me to plug your lights back in? The power came back on but you might need to reset the power strip.”

Dalton slowly turns to face you, exposing the black substance covering his face. In the darkness, you can’t tell if it is paint, lipstick, or - an idea pulled straight from your nightmares - blood. You freeze, willing your body to do or say something, but everything seems stuck in time.

“I know what you are,” a deep voice calls.

Your eyes snap to Dalton’s lips, which remain closed as the voice speaks again.

“I only kept you around because I felt bad, but I’m over it. Now, I’ll rip your innards out.”

“Dalton, whatever this is, you are stronger than it,” you say shakily, stepping back as he cocks his head to the side.

He smiles, which causes the black substance to leak from his mouth. You swallow and attempt to reset your calm facade as you swing your hand behind your back in a fruitless aim for the doorknob.

“Going somewhere?” The voice asks, causing you to flinch backward and run into the door.

Dalton opens his mouth, causing what you now believe to be black blood to pour onto the floor and splash against his clothes as he rushes toward you. With your back to the door, you have no escape as he grips your arms and leans in. As he gets closer, the blood stops appearing, and his face shifts into a different nightmarish creature. No longer sure if Dalton is even in this new face, you choke on a scream as it licks your cheek with its long tongue, tightening its grip on your arms as you try to reach the doorknob again.

“Dalton, please!” you yell, losing the battle against your tears.

The creature pulls away from you, putting you face-to-face with what looks like Dalton.

“Are you back?” You whisper.

The answer is his hands raising to your neck, crushing your windpipe as he pushes you further into the door, using all of his weight against you. You swing your arms and kick, but he doesn’t feel anything. As your vision blurs, you pull your hand away from Dalton and move it toward the light switch. You hit it, hearing the satisfying ‘click’ as it raises. A short-lived victory, however, as you realize the light was never off, but the power is out again. Out of ideas and nearly out of oxygen, you say Dalton’s name once more. He leans in further, putting his ear to your mouth as if he wants to hear you die. As your eyes close, you feel like you’re falling… and Dalton won’t try to catch you.

“Hey? Hello? Wake up, sleepyhead,” someone says as they poke you repeatedly.

You force your eyes open to see Chris leaning over you, her facial expression flitting between amusement and concern.

“Why are we sleeping on the floor tonight?” She asks. “You and Dalton hang out without me?”

You sit up, rubbing your neck as the memories from last night hit you harder than falling to the floor.

“Where is Dalton?” You ask, taking Chris’ offered hand and standing.

“I dunno. I just got here.”

The door opens as she finishes her sentence, and you both look up to see Dalton closing the door behind him - his clothes are somehow free of blood, as are yours. He smiles when he sees you both.

“What’s up?” He asks as he grabs his art bag.

“Chris, can you give us a minute?” You ask.

She looks at you questioningly, then winks at Dalton before leaving.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” Your hands rise to your neck on their own accord.

“No. I was painting, then I woke up down the hall. Guess nothing terrible happened or I would have remembered it.”

“Can I ask one more question?” You walk to the door and open it as you talk, feeling claustrophobic now that you’re alone.

“Of course.”

“Are you only my friend because you feel sorry for me? I know it’s a weird question but please be honest with me, I’m sick of lies.”

“Lies?” Dalton walks closer to you, then stops in front of you and leans down to look into your eyes, almost identical to the position you found yourself in last night.

“I just - it feels like you’re keeping something from me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you want me to leave? Get out of your life?”

“Why are you asking?”

“You said something last night.”

“Whatever I said probably wasn’t true. It’s usually not me talking once it’s dark, if you get what I’m saying?”

“You said you only kept me around because you felt sorry for me and someday you’d rip my innards out. Even if that wasn't you, how am I supposed to say ‘Oh, that wasn’t really Dalton, it’s probably fine?’” Dalton quickly licks his lips as he stands to his full height.

“That first part was true. I wish you’d walk out right now. I wouldn’t notice a difference if you weren’t in my life; other than improvement.”

You nod numbly and put your hand on the doorknob, still looking at Dalton as you try to keep him from seeing your heartbreak.

“Good luck, Dalton. You’re gonna need it. Don't underestimate whatever is in the darkness; I'm not sure you know how dangerous it is.”

“Thanks,” he says as he turns to gather his stuff. “Bye.” You finally turn and close the door on Dalton.

As the door clicks shut, the blood begins to flow once again.

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert fic #insidious #dalton lambert x reader #requests #insidious the red door #dalton lambert imagine

[sailor-aviator]

Tom and Jake's Relationship

Story: The Dagger Posse Universe

Word Count: 2k (oops)

TW: Mentions of death, Mentions of illness, Mentions of pandemic, Mentions of funerals, Mentions of burials, References to prostitution, Mentions of hanging, Starvation. Think that's it.

A/N: Been sitting on this one for a while. I wanted to show the kind of relationship that Jake and Ice have, and I sure hope I was able to give you even the slightest glimpse into how much they care about one another. Please enjoy!

The epidemic that swept the small town of Maverick was as quick as it was devastating. It slaughtered several of the different townsfolk, and left several with no family left. Tom had been there to comfort Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and a small Bradley Bradshaw when Nick and Carole had been lowered into the cold, dark earth of the desert. Bradley had been so young, and he had clung to Maverick's leg, hiding his face away. Tom wasn't sure if it was to keep from seeing his parents like that or to keep his parents from seeing him like that.

They had been good, kind people. Goose was well liked by most and Carole was well liked by all. Both always having smiles for whoever had the fortune of encountering them. And they had been fighters, holding out until they couldn't find the strength to draw another breath.

Tom had been walking aimlessly down the streets of Maverick after their funeral, searching for what, he didn't know at the time. The day had been cold and eerily calm, like the desert mourned with the sheriff too. The image of young Bradley clinging to Maverick's leg as he tried so hard to keep a brave face replayed in his head. The only time he cracked was when the men began to lower the coffins into the graves below, and the boy had shed a single tear and let out a solitary sob.

Tom's heart broke for the son of his friends, but he knew that Penny and Mav would take good care of him. Still, it wasn't easy to lose your parents, especially at such a young age.

He rounded a corner near the edge of town, stopping short at the solitary figure that sat huddled on the foot of the stairs leading up to the back of the butcher's shop. Mossy, green eyes popped up to look at him, and Tom was taken aback by how gaunt the poor boy looked.

"Jake," he nodded, looking him over. There were dark circles under his eyes, skin pale and he definitely looked thinner than the last time the older man had seen him.

"Sheriff," the blond nodded back, voice barely audible as he slumped back in on himself. Tom felt a pang run through his heart at how tired he sounded. A boy of eight years shouldn't be sounding like that.

"What are you doing, Jake?"

"Sarah didn't make enough to feed us again," the boy whispered, eyes closed in defeat. "I always tell her that I found food somewhere else so she gets enough to eat without worryin' about me. Sometimes the butcher will give me scraps that I can cook."

"How long has this been going on?"

He shrugged. "Since Ma an' Da' died."

Tom's stomach lurched. A couple of weeks then. The sheriff knew he couldn't go on like this. He knew that Sarah was doing her best to provide for her and her brother, but there was only so much a girl of fourteen could do unless she chose to sell herself. Tom wasn't going to let that happen. He owed it to their parents to take care of the two.

"Come with me, Jake," he murmured, causing the boy to look up at him in confusion.

"What?" He frowned, stumbling to a stand. "Why?"

"We're going to go see Penny about a meal."

"I can't afford that, Mr. Ice," Jake exclaimed, despair in his eyes. Tom shook his head, placing a gentle hand on his shoulders to guide him back into town.

"Don't you worry about that. I'll get you sorted out."

And Tom had seen to it that Jake ate regularly, cooking him meals and sending him home with leftovers as often as he could. He had even taught him to hunt, and the boy was a halfway decent shot when he wanted to be.

Soon, Jake was old enough to work, and Tom made sure the boy was being paid fair wages, working odd jobs to earn enough to support him and his sister.

"You're not workin' too hard, are you, Jake?" He asked the young man one day. Jake had looked at him with a tired smile, rubbing at his eyes as he answered.

"No, Tom," he sighed. "I'm not working too hard. Just earning my living."

Tom had hummed, but made sure to slip a couple of extra dollars into the boy's pouch when he wasn't looking. Winter was coming up, and he knew Jake was in need of a new pair of boots. It had been too long since he bought the last pair, and it would do him no good to run around without proper footwear. Now that he thought about it, it wouldn't hurt to give him a couple more dollars for new clothes, so into the pouch it went.

Tom couldn't help the smile that grew on his face at the sight of Jake in his new trousers and boots two weeks later.

"What are you grinnin' about?" Jake had asked him, brow furrowed in curiosity. Tom just shook his head and chuckled.

"Don't you mind now."

Tom knew that Jake's heart was in the right place, but he could have done without the extra grey hairs.

"Bradley's problems are his own," he had groused to the blond. "You shouldn't go gettin' into trouble for someone who's fighting their own demons, son."

"Bradley is my friend, Ice," Jake had sighed, sipping on his beer at the bar. "I'm not leaving a friend to walk through hell alone."

Tom felt a twinge of pride. Jake had grown into a fine young man. Loyal, strong, kind, and clever. All things a man should be, Tom supposed, but Jake's loyalty was a double edged sword at best.

"I'm not going to be able to bail you out of these predicaments for forever, you know," he had grumbled, sipping on his own beer. Jake huffed out a laugh, patting the older man on the shoulder.

"I don't expect you to," he grinned, shooting him a wink. "One day I'll have enough money where I won't need to do this anymore. Maybe I'll even build you a fancy new house while I'm at it."

"Every single one of these grey hairs is because of you, you know," Tom scowled, shoving the younger man lightly.

"I think they make you look distinguished."

"Smartass."

Now this was something Tom hadn't expected. Of course, he knew that Jake had his fair share of flings with the women in town, but he had never seen the boy so transfixed before. And it appeared the young lady had taken an interest back in him, though the more he observed the two, the more he wasn't sure she knew the extent of her feelings.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you son?" He had remarked to Jake one day after the young lady had left him standing in the middle of the street. Jake squared his shoulders back, and despite his grin, Tom saw a look of quiet determination in his green eyes.

"I'm going to marry that girl one day, Tom," he had declared.

"Pretty sure she has to like you first."

"I'll get her to like me," the blond shot back. And for a moment, Tom was taken aback. In Jake's eyes was a mixture of two things the older man wasn't sure he had ever seen before: nervousness and longing.

"Give it time," Tom cautioned, squeezing Jake's shoulder. "A girl like that needs to be earned, not won."

It was now or never. Tom had convinced the marshal to go and get a drink to ease some of his tension, and now was the only chance he would get to free Jake. Tom was never going to let the boy hang, he couldn't let it happen. He knew there would be grave consequences for himself for letting Jake go free, but he wasn't about to let him down. While Bradley had always had Maverick, Jake had always had Tom. Tom wouldn't let the only son he had ever known leave this world by the end of a rope.

He stopped as the front door creaked open to reveal you, a bedraggled wreck as you stared at him. Now this was a surprise. Tom was sure that you wouldn't show up, after all it was late and you were a lady if nothing else.

“You shouldn’t be here, darlin’,” he drawled, placing his feet on the floor. “This ain’t no place for a lady such as yourself.”

“Where is he?” You asked him, stepping into the room and quickly closing the door behind you. Tom heard Jake call out, and as you moved towards the back room, he stopped you.

“Are you sure you’re ready to see him like this?” He asked you quietly, lips pressing into a thin line as he continued to study you. You stared at him with fire in your eyes, a fire that had Tom's mind blazing in curiosity. What a tough little thing you were.

“Please,” you murmured, your eyes never wavering. “Please let me see him.”

Tom stared at you for a moment longer before glancing at the door. Any chance of getting Jake out now was gone the second you stepped foot through the door. He would have to come up with another plan, but for now, the least he could do is let the two of you see each other.

“You have five minutes, Scout.”

Tom was still thinking about the way your eyes had sparkled as you saw the wanted poster for Isaac Cassidy. He could practically see the cogs in your head turning as you played the part of the damsel in distress for Beau, but Tom could see now that you were no fool. No, you were more than capable, and he supposed that you had come up with a plan of your own.

"That girl of yours sure is something," he had mused to Jake, watching the blue light of the morning filter into the jail.

"You have no idea," the young man croaked back. "I love her, Tom."

"I know."

"I don't want her to see my hang."

Tom paused at that. He had already come up with a contingency plan, but a feeling inside of him told him that you were hard at work making preparations for your own handiwork.

"Somehow," Tom drawled, "I don't think she will."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them.

"I'm sorry, Tom."

"What the hell are you sorry for?" Tom rolled his eyes, earning a sigh.

"I'm sorry for how things ended up. You always warned me to stay out of trouble, and now here we are."

"Yeah, well," Tom sniffed, pushing out of his chair and heading for the door. He had to speak with Maverick before time was up. "Maybe you'll listen to me once you get out of here."

And with that, he walked through the door.

Tom watched as Jake led you down the road, the crowd crowing eagerly behind him. He had to hand it to you, you were a cunning, ruthless lady. Not many people could have pulled off what you did, and Tom could count you as one of the few people in this world that left him impressed.

He supposed that Jake would try to stay out of trouble moving forward, but trouble had always had a knack for finding Jake if nothing else. Tom let out a sigh as he watched the young man place a gentle kiss to your forehead, squeezing you tightly as you continued to walk towards your home.

"You comin'?" Bradley asked him, an impassive look on his face. Tom nodded, turning to start making his way through the crowd. He wasn't one to take delight in death, but he was certainly one to make sure that no harm came to the people he cared about. Isaac Cassidy would die today in place of Jake Seresin. Tom would rest easy knowing that the boy he raised would stay safe for another day.

#dhtn #don't hang'em til noon #drabble #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #hangman imagine #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

rj im begging u to give me anything about cheol dhsbd its been bad for me lately and i need to talk about him with someone who GETS it

ps hi i love u lol

Anything for you

AN: I was originally going to use ideas from one of the S.Coups fics in my drafts but, since today is also the lovely @onlyseokmins birthday, I decided to go with this idea that hit me out of nowhere instead. Kill two birds with one stone and all of that. All I'm going to say is that this is all Sar's fault (I hope this is okay and, still scratches your S.Coups itch 💀).

Synopsis: Seokmin is the most generous, thoughtful man you've ever met. He'll more than willingly give you whatever you want (if it's within his means, of course). Even if that means sitting back and watching you get fucked by one of his closest friends.

Heads up: Lee Seokmin x Fem! Reader x Choi Seungcheol, Reader and DK are in a relationship, the plot is paper-thin, heavily implied power dynamics, cuckoldry (sort of), voyeurism, exhibitionism, Seungcheol is mean here, mentions of pussy spanking (f. receiving), edging (f. receiving), it's implied that Cheol gets off on Reader's tears, praise kink (f. receiving), degradation (f. receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv sex, creampie and DK cums untouched.

Word count: 829

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Some people may think you're a little spoiled by your boyfriend. With his thoughtfulness often resulting in him bringing you flowers he saw on his way home from work or washing the dishes when it's your turn when work is particularly grating or making you cum on his pretty fingers until you lose count.

Yeah, maybe you're a little spoiled but, Seokmin just wants to make you happy. The way your eyes light up and that brilliant smile you always give him make it all more than worth it.

That's how the two of you find yourselves in your current situation. Well, the three of you.

Your... affinity for muscular men with great arms and pretty smiles has caused your gaze to linger a few too many times on Seungcheol. You'd never dream of betraying Seokmin that way, but you'd be lying if you said Seungcheol hadn't featured in a fantasy or two. Your boyfriend, ever the observant man, doesn't fail to notice.

And now, looking at him flushed with his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead as he watches Seungcheol split you open on his, frankly, intimidating cock, you're left wondering if this is all even real.

"Doesn't she look so pretty taking me, Seokminnie?" The older man asks. You can't quite see him from this angle but, you're sure he's grinning when he thrusts into you so hard that your nails nearly draw blood from how tightly you're holding onto him.

"Yeah, she does," your boyfriend mutters in response, lidded eyes flying between taking in your changing expressions and Seungcheol thrusting into you.

Seungcheol isn't as kind as your boyfriend. Every act of disobedience and brattiness met with an unflinching spank to your clit. Stopping completely until you're near tears with how desperately you want to cum. Your mind devoid of everything but, the need to cum on his cock.

And Seokmin watches it all. His cock hard and untouched in the confines of his boxers. You haven't given permission to touch himself yet so, he sits and watches like the good boy he is.

"Cheol, please," you choke out once more when his cock brushes a spot inside of you that makes it difficult to breathe. Frustrated tears spilling down your overheated face.

"You do know how to ask nicely," he coos against your ear, nipping it and startling you when his daft fingers rub circles against your hypersensitive clit. It's dizzying how quickly he's learned how to toy with you.

You're so close. So, so close. Your thighs quivering violently and broken moans falling from your bruised lips as you chase your release.

Choi Seungcheol would never make it that easy. So, he stops once more. You feel his cock throb inside of you as your walls spasm and, frustrated whines leave your lips. He even has the nerve to lick away a few of the tears he's able to catch. You had no idea he had so many sadistic tendencies.

Before you can ask why he stopped, he speaks, "Do you think she deserves to cum?"

Seokmin looks like a deer caught in head lights. Warm, brown eyes alternating between your watery, desperate ones and the ones of the very hot, very evil man propping you up against his chest.

"I-I think she deserves to cum," he stutters out and, you want to kiss him so badly. You're going to make him cum so hard he can't walk straight after this.

"Well, since you've both been so well-behaved," is all the preparation you're giving before Seungcheol picks up his pace once more. Leaving you no time or room to gather yourself as his fingers make quick work of your clit once more.

"Are you going to cum like the good girl you are? The needy slut you are?" the devil whispers into your ear. Though you're pretty sure Seokmin can hear it all from the way he squirms in his seat.

"Make a mess for Seokmin,"

That's all it takes for your orgasm to rip through you. You don't remember the last time you came this hard. Seungcheol groans behind you and holds you steady through it all. Everything tenses and seizes and you're briefly worried that you'll develop a cramp but, you can't bring yourself to care all that much.

It's made all the worse (or better, depending on how you look at it) when you feel Seungcheol cum inside of you. His hold on you becoming harsh as he makes you take every single drop with every pulse of him inside of you.

Your bleary eyes meet Seokmin's frenzied ones and, that's when it hits you. He came. He came from watching...all of this. He looks like he's so close to stumbling out an apology but, you're not upset. Quite the opposite. The wet stain on his boxers instinctively making you clamp down on Seungcheol's softening cock, causing the man behind you to moan.

Yeah, this might be his greatest gift yet.

#s.coups smut #dk smut #seventeen smut #choi seungcheol smut #lee seokmin smut #s coups smut #seokmin smut #scoups smut #sar <3 #elv <3 #ask #rj's inbox

[giggly-squiggily]

Hii! how are you doing?

I love your fics so much, your writing skills are AWESOME!!😍

May I request Itafushi (JJK) for the Candy Heart Valentine Event? Lee Itadori and Ler Megumi with prompts "Miss You", "Say Yes", "Hug" and "Love Bug" please?

You can take your time to write this, or even decline, I would totally understand! (you maybe have a lot of other requests already hehe or if the prompts are too complicated you could choose for which one you write!)

I hope you have a nice day/evening/night and have a good time writing more awesome stuff!💞💜

Heyo friend! Aww, you are too sweet! I appreciate the kind words! I'm not gonna lie- this one got a bit angsty; but I hope you like it all the same! :D

CW: Angst

Hug: "I just want a hug!" + Miss you: "When's the last time you smiled?" + Love bug: "What's so funny?" + Say Yes: "Hey what are you- give that back!"

“Gooms…”

“No.” Megumi didn’t look up. He had a feeling whatever Itadori was about to ask would be dumb. “Ask someone else.”

When no reply came, he looked up. His heart sank immediately seeing the wounded expression Itadori wore. “Shit-I didn’t- I thought-” Megumi swallowed, turning to face him properly. “Sorry. What is it, Yuji?”

“It’s just- well..” The other teen seemed to lose his nerve, letting out a bitter laugh as he scratched at his nose. “It’s nothing. Really- sorry for bothering you-”

“No. Don’t do that.” Megumi got up, crossing the room and sitting down beside him. “Don’t shut down on me. I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have cut you off. That was wrong of me. Now..” Megumi took his shoulder, making him meet his eye. “What’s wrong?”

Itadori seemed to tense up, lips flattening in a sad line as he blinked rapidly. “I just..I just really want a hug right now.”

As if Megumi couldn’t feel any worse. Nodding, he pulled the other boy into him, fisting his jacket as Itadori let out a muffled sob. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“N-no, it’s not yo-you. I’m ju-ust having a da-ay.” Itadori seemed to cling to him, his grip not much different from a child’s. “It’s been a ba-ad day…

Megumi hummed, closing his eyes as let his friend cry against him. He wasn’t good with words, so he simply held onto him until the tears stopped falling and his breaths began to regulate. 

“Feel better?” He asked after a while. When Itadori nodded, a thought crossed his mind.

When was the last time you smiled?

“Itadori…do you want me to do the thing?” It sounded so dumb out loud, but he knew his friend would understand what he meant. After a moment, Itadori nodded again.

“Okay. Tell me when to stop, alright?” Megumi gently wormed his fingers along Itadori’s ribs, keeping his touch gentle but firm. It took a few minutes, but eventually he felt the pink haired teen shaking for an entirely new reason.

Then he was giggling, a soft choked sound that stayed low and warm in Megumi’s ear as he carried on with his gentle presses. “G-Gooohohohohms!”

“What? What’s so funny?” He relaxed, happy to hear Yuji laughing. “I’m just hugging you, aren’t I? Surely it can’t be that funny.”

“Ehehehehehe! Yoohohohu’re a dohoohork!” Yuji snorted, leaning back and catching Megumi’s hands. “Oohohkay, ohohkay..thaahnk you.” He smiled, a small tired one, but a smile all the same. “ I neheheded that. Thanks, Gooms.”

“Hm-yeah, sure.” Why’d he have to look at him like that? Megumi averted his gaze as his cheeks burned, growing hotter when Yuji laughed once more. “Don’t mention it-”

Just then, the door opened- Nobara waltzing in with a flourish. “I need this! Thanks!” She called, snagging the nearest manga and running out the door. Megumi blinked a few times, then…

“Hey, what are you- give that back!” He called after her, shooting to his feet and taking chase while Yuji howled in mirth, ever amused by his friend’s antics.

Well- if it made up for the shitty day he was having, Megumi could forgive it.

Send me a candy heart and I'll write a dabble for it!

#Candy Heart Valentine Event #chve2k24 #tickle #tickle dabble #jjk #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #Yuji deserves all the love and some

[munariplans]

your writing is remarkable. saw you were open to doing drabbles for the chaos makes the muse series so i wondering if we can see something about natasha and reader as parents? how many kids did they end up having?

hi anon,

so sorry for the delayed response! i am open to drabbles and requests, and i've written a peek into natasha and reader's lives as parents in this fic below, hope it answers your questions and enjoy!

i would also like to preface that while this is related to chaos makes the muse, you can absolutely read it without having read / completed the series :)

The final lap ensues, your eldest son a tenth of a second slower than the go-kart in front of him, and you sighed. Putting your hands together in a silent prayer, you hoped with all your might that he might be able to pull an early exit into one of the turns, cutting off his only opponent and retaking the lead in the race.

The karts whizzed past the stands, your hair followed in the wind. Each kart’s engine the only loud noises in the air as everyone watched the race with bated breath. Your phone was ringing; probably a note from your secretary. You quickly switched it off as the final turn before the chequered flag appeared for the karts.

Nicholas didn’t make it to first.

Still, you rushed over with the rest of the parents to where the karts were coming in slowly and parking, and quickly found your son with his head down, still sitting in his kart as celebrations for first place rang through the air.

“Hey, there’s my champion,” you kneeled down to his level, smiling as you helped him remove his helmet. “You did your best, and Mama and I are so proud of you.”

“I didn’t win,” was all he said before engulfing you in a hug, soaking your jacket with tears he refused to show anyone else. It reminded you of Natasha’s own habit of doing so, and you only hugged him tighter.

“It doesn’t matter,” you reassured, walking him to the small podium, “It doesn’t matter to me, or to your Mama. There’s always the next race, and the next. We’ll tweak your engine together, so you go even faster, and we’ll review your data together too. You are forever my pride, Nicholas, losing one race isn’t going to change that.”

–

On the drive home, as Nicholas fell asleep in your passenger seat hugging his second-place trophy, you received a text from Natasha at home.

Are you on the way home? I gave up on Nathaniel’s maths homework, by the way, I need you.

You smiled to yourself at the text, shaking your head and turning your attention back to the road in hopes that you would arrive home faster.

–

“Mama, we’re homeee!” Nicholas’ mood was considerably lighter as he passed the threshold of your home, proudly showing off his trophy. But alas, Natasha was not in the living room as he had expected, nor was she in the kitchen or anywhere in his vision. Natasha always greeted the both of you home after Nicholas’ karting races, so you knew only one thing must have happened.

You rubbed the boy’s back comfortingly, and directed him to place his trophy along with all his others on the shelf. “Mama’s probably asleep, sweetheart. You know how tired she is these days, your little sister’s not giving her the easiest time.”

At his pout, you knelt down to his height again. “Hey, you can still show her your trophy tomorrow, I’m sure she would be just as excited. How about I make you a box of mac-and-cheese and we can share it without her knowing? I say that’s a fantastic way to celebrate, yeah?”

You were engulfed right into another hug as he smiled into your neck; another one of Natasha’s little quirks.

–

With Nicholas settled in at the dining table and tucking into his bowl of mac-and-cheese (that Natasha had always disapproved of you making for the boys), you snuck into your younger son’s room, the lights still on.

Nathaniel was clearly in over his head, his ginger hair a mess and balls of crumpled paper scrawled with maths equations strewn across the floor. He had fallen asleep on his desk, and your heart squeezed at the fact that he had to wait for so long before you came to the rescue.

You slowly shook him awake. “Nathan, I’m home.”

Opening his eyes blearily, Nathaniel leaned his head against your shoulder as you took the papers from underneath him, shaking the drool on them dry.

“You smell like your office’s air freshener, yuck.”

You tipped his head playfully. “Been there since eight this morning, bud. Didn’t have time to change before I had to go for your brother’s race in the evening. Now I’m here doing your homework with you.”

“Don’t you get tired?” He yawned as you began scanning the questions.

Truthfully, a wave of fatigue had long past swept through your bones; even in the stands watching Nicholas race, even as you entered the office that morning. With Natasha set to deliver your daughter any day now, coupled with Nathaniel’s exams approaching and Nicholas’ races, you truly felt like you were drowning most days. To top it all off, business was booming; clients were streaming in by the dozens most days, and you rarely even had time to breathe between waking up and going back to bed for the past few weeks.

But you only smiled at your son, and came back with, “And if I do, what am I supposed to do? Stop working?”

“Yeah, and spend time playing more video games with me.”

“And who’s going to be able to afford to buy those games for you, kid? Your brother’s racing career, your mother’s shopping sprees, even your baby sister’s shopping sprees when she’s born and older, I need to work so you guys can keep having these things.”

He gave a non-committal grunt. A sign for you to bring his attention back to the papers in front of the both of you. “Let’s start, shall we? I promise we can steal your brother’s leftover mac-and cheese if we can finish this by midnight.”

–

By the time both boys were tucked into bed and snoring softly into their pillows, you knew you were about two seconds away from dropping dead onto the ground with exhaustion. Shuffling your feet to your shared bedroom with Natasha, you barely made out the shape of her figure before collapsing onto your side of the bed, your eyelids begging to close themselves.

But it was the soft drawl in her voice that woke you up. “You’re home already, baby?”

“Been home since seven, darling, had to make Nicholas dinner and finish up the rest of Nathaniel’s homework.”

At your confession, Natasha sat up, guilt coursing through her at her dismissal of you returning home and doing so much with the boys. Lately, it felt like the ‘team effort’ she had promised you would come with more children had been more solo on your end, regardless how many times you reminded her that she was busy growing a third human within her herself, and it could not compare to the amount of stress she was putting her own body in.

Her hands found themselves carding through your hair, and you shifted further up to lie across her legs. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“For what?”

“For not being there. You were in the office so early today, you had to do so much work, and then having to be there for Nicholas’ race and taking care of Nathaniel after, too. It’s so much,” Natasha found a lump in her throat that she was unable to swallow.

Instead, you shook your head, merely reaching out for her hand and rubbing your thumb over hers lovingly. “All part of the process, love. Please don’t feel guilty about this. Besides, I enjoy spending time with the boys, and letting you rest.”

You could sense your wife was still apprehensive, so you reached into your pocket and pulled out your mobile phone, in hopes of distracting her mind. “Look, Nicholas got second place in the race today. Kid was a bit disappointed, but you can see how well he drove.”

Natasha began watching the clip of Nicholas’ final lap in the race, one hand resting over her bump affectionately as she smiled at her eldest. Getting up from your own position, you noticed the legs you had been lying on were incredibly swollen, and you cursed internally at the fact you had been neglecting your wife in exchange for caring for your sons, too.

So when she physically let out soft pants and happy moans once you started massaging her feet, Natasha had to drop the phone and put a pillow over her face in embarrassment once she caught your grin at her. “Baby, you’re exhausted…please…”

“Nonsense,” you assured, “Anything for you. And anything to hear more of those amazing sounds too, please, love. They’re music to my ears.”

You were met with an eye roll and a laugh that alleviated any shred of tiredness you thought you had earlier. Everything was worth it, for her. –

Natasha thought you were dead to the world in your slumber, seeing the day you had and the pent-up stress and exhaustion accumulated of taking care of her, and the boys. You rightfully deserved to be, as she watched your features, asleep beside her with an imaginary ‘best parent in the world’ crown she imagined on your head. Her heart squeezed with how much she knew you loved and sacrificed for the boys and her.

But she had to wake you, unfortunately. There was no other option.

So when you felt her hands shaking you awake and rolling over to check that it was only half past three in the morning, you groaned at having to be awake so early. “Yes, Nat?”

“My water broke.”

She had said it so calmly, almost serene, that you would have found it almost unbelievable had her voice not been the only thing filling the white noise in the room. Then, as if you couldn’t hear her the first time, she reinforced, “Baby’s coming.”

You were up with a start, still half-hazy with details, but mind alert and screaming at you to do something. You had been through this twice, a third shouldn’t be a surprise at that point.

With the hospital bag packed by the door, Yelena on her way to babysit the boys until the morning, and your hair finally combed enough to a civilised hairstyle, you turned back to Natasha, slowly waddling down the stairs.

“How are you so calm?” You asked, rushing forward to help carry her, despite her protests at such.

Once her feet were back on the ground, she squeezed your shoulder just a little too rough, and her eyes shut in pain. “Am…not. But it’s the only thing I can do to keep the pain manageable. Can we please drive to the hospital, now?”

–

“A little more, love, just a little more.”

“I’ll fucking break your neck once we’re done if you dare say that to me again!”

At Natasha’s scream, and the threatening words pinned against you, you kept your mouth shut, instead choosing to recline a little in the stiff plastic chair the operating team gave you, in hopes that it would also alleviate the pain from your hand getting crushed under her grip.

You leaned your forehead against your wife’s, and tried to focus on the arrival of your daughter, and not how much pain she was putting Natasha through currently.

Finally, with the last push from Natasha, and both of her hands crushing the bones on one of yours together, the baby was out, and it was the moment that you knew you had just fallen in love with your daughter. It had happened twice before, but never the same.

–

Bags under your eyes, shoulders sinking in on themselves, Natasha knew you had the telltale signs of burnout and exhaustion written all over your features. But as she watched you bent over the small bassinet the hospital had wheeled your daughter in, a hint of a smile on your face watching her interact with her first few moments in the world, she knew that you would have given up everything, risked it all and more, for this moment to happen.

All those years ago, when she had met you at the club, when she merely knew you as the broken, fragile lawyer with an ego bigger than the sky itself, she found it hard to believe she could witness your growth to now, the very best parent you could be to her three children. Sacrificing each weekend to tune up Nicholas’ go-kart and coaching him for races, coming home each night to help Nathaniel with his homework, and then having to deal with her mood swings, pregnancy hormones, and all sorts of aches you had to massage and sort out, she wondered if she really had gotten so lucky at times; or if it was all just a dream for her. You were patient with the boys, and her, you were kind, you never complained. You were everything she had always wanted.

Natasha almost said something; she started, but couldn’t find it in herself to finish. She called out your name, and said, “I…”

You looked up at her, and the words caught in her throat. “Yes?”

“I…”

“Mummy! Mama!” For the first time in a long while, Natasha heard the two boys’ voices in unison, cutting through your small moment as they rushed into the room, followed by a very haggard-looking Yelena behind.

“Gentle, gentle, boys! What did I tell you?” Yelena’s voice sounded like the boys had taken ten years off her life. At her state, Natasha saw you grinning too, and thanked her quietly for being able to come and babysit at such short notice. “Now move, I want to see my niece, too!”

Making space on the bed for Nicholas and Yelena to sit beside her, along with you at the foot of the bed with Nathaniel on your shoulders, Natasha cradled the newest addition to her family lovingly, her elder brothers already cooing and fighting over who gets to hold her first.

Her eyes met yours, and the words that were stuck came rushing back. She wanted to mouth I love you.

You smiled back at her, and when Yelena brought the boys down later on to grab a snack, you said it right back, your daughter in your arms this time. “I love you too.”

“Mm, enough to give me a fourth child?”

You looked up to her in panic, and at the expression on your face, Natasha found it hard to keep her own serious, as she burst out in giggles. “I was kidding.”

“Respectfully, my love,” you replied, “If this baby is not our last, I don’t think I am going to even live until I see forty.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe #chaos makes the muse

[alcalystrasz]

I had an illumination of a possible byler scene in season 5. For those of you who saw the leak where we (spoiler alert) see Mike in his room, I guess, with a typewriter on his desk. So I was like "hmm what if we're going to see him write a story or something in season 5?" And then, this came up in my head:

"Mike is sit on the chair facing his desk in his room. Hands on his typewriter, thinking about the next step of his story. While he's scratching his head, he hears someone knocking on his door, so he turns his head to the sound and notices Will.

-Hey. What's up? He asks his best friend.

-Nothing much, I was just... wondering, what you were doing, answers Will.

-Oh, hum, nothing. Just, writing something.

-Writing? What are you writing? He asks calmly, walking up to Mike.

-A story, hum, maybe a future project, I don't know yet, he responds, putting his head down. Will gets closer, looks down then looks at his friend again.

-May I sit? Mike raises his eyebrows and blinks multiple times before answering:

-Yeah, yeah... sure.

Will sits next to him, there's not much space in between them anymore, and that gets both in a sort of embarrassment. Will breaks the silence:

-So, what's this story about? He asks turning his head to him. Mike glances at his lips then looks at his eyes again.

-Uh, well... He turns his head away. It's... about a boy. Called Matthew. He has, like, 3 bests friends... They, uh, they have this... hobby? They love, DnD. Will smiles and looks at the machine, then looks back at Mike. They, hum, play it, one night, until late. And that same night, one of his bests friends... gets lost. Will looks down. He hum... when the kids learn it, they get worried, jut especially Matt, because... he turns his head to Will. He.... cares about him, like... a lot. Will smiles and glances at Mike's lips.

-Tell me more, he says.

Mike looks at him for a short moment then, looks at his arms.

-When... when they agree to go, look, for him...in the woods.... they meet a girl. A random girl.

-Really? He asks.

-Yeah, he says while looking at him and smiling.

-And this girl, who is she?

-She has, like, mind abilities. She can read into your minds, control your mind... all that shit, you know?

-And Matt, did he fall in love with her?

Mike looks away and sighs. He looks back at Will and shakes his head.

-No, no... he didn't. He never did. Will frowns and keep staring at his friend. Hum... that girl, says she's like... capable of finding him, so they go look for him. But, they can't do anything, and... one night, the police... find his body. The two friends were sad, but... he looks at Will. Matt was the most sad. He went directly home, leaving everyone, and just cried into his mother's arms. Will looks at Mike, with visible tears in his eyes. And he kept crying, in his room, because.... he... cared. So much cared, for him... He never wanted to lose him. But he did, and that broke him, he sighs.

Will gets closer to Will and asks:

-Then what, Matt just... stays in his sadness?

Mike smiles.

-Yeah. A little. But... he'll then go back to his friends, trust this random girl once again, and they'll find their bestfriend in the end.

Will smiles.

-Cool, he says. Mike smiles in return.

-Cool."

I kinda hope that will happen. Especially because it could look very good. Mike as a writer could be so interesting! I really hope we're gonna see more of him. Do you think that'd be possible to see in season 5? I think I'll keep this "writing scenes that could happen which only comes from my mind" thing for a little while. I have a lot of imagination... :>

#byler #stranger things #byler is endgame #byler is canon #byler tumblr #byler nation #mike wheeler #will byers #noah schnapp #finn wolfhard #love