#I got this prompt like four times and yes I am going to fill it four different ways
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“You got me a stocking?” - “Of course, you’re family.” for Reggie & Rose?
Reggie is ten when he meets Julie, after being held back a year in class. All his friends move up, and sure, he still sees Luke and Alex and Bobby in the halls and after school, but their lunch period isn't at the same time anymore. It's lonely, and a lot of kids in his new class think he's dumb, and maybe he is.
Julie is the first person to talk to him, to be his friend. Then, she drags him into her little group, with Flynn, and Carrie, and it's a little weird at first (not because girls have cooties, but maybe a little something like that. Reggie learns a lot about Girls in general and these girls in particular.)
He gets invited to birthday parties and sleepovers and Mr and Mrs Molina (who are quick to tell him that just Ray and Rose is fine) don't even make him sleep in a separate room because he's a Boy. Though they do have to leave the door open. They're kind of the coolest parents ever, even cooler than the Mercers. (If only because the Mercers don't have an entire music studio in their back yard.)
Reggie is eleven when Julie starts bringing extra big lunches to school, and insisting he take some, talking about how her aunt foisted too much food onto them, or how her dad accidentally packed her two sandwiches.
He hadn't thought anyone would notice he's stopped bringing lunches to school. His mom refuses to sign the little paper that would qualify him for free lunches, saying Peters don’t take hand outs. But after a few weeks of Julie coming up with excuses, she just casually slides Reggie his half, and Reggie quietly accepts. Carrie and Flynn never say anything mean about it, and his mom doesn’t have to find out, so it’s fine.
Reggie is twelve when he has to start explaining away mysterious bruises. He starts wearing his flannel or the cool leather jacket he and Flynn found while thrifting pretty much all the time. The guys take it in stride (Alex runs cold a lot too, wearing hoodies even in summer), and the girls seem to think he's just found his signature style. Like Carrie and Pink, and Flynn and... Coolness, he guesses.
It's Rose and Ray who notice it, question it when he pushes up his sleeves to wash his hands before dinner. He jokes about how he swears that doorjamb moved at the last second. But the bruises get harder to hide, and he's pretty sure even his friends are starting to get suspicious the second time he shows up to band practice with a black eye.
Reggie is thirteen when he starts to live with the Molinas. He's also thirteen when he sees Rose nearly punch out his mom. It’s at parent-teacher night, and his mom is furious to hear he’s once again in danger of flunking a grade. (She'd already been in a bad mood because Dad had promised to take this parent-teacher night so she could go out with friends and had then just not come home.)
She pulls him away by his wrist through the corridor, into a stairwell. Her shouts had echo and bounce around the space in an awful manner, especially when he knows how good harmonies can sound when you stand at the bottom of the stairwell and sing together.
He knows what’s coming, flinching and waiting for the slap, but it never does. Instead, his mother gave an angry squawk, and then he looks up, Rose is holding her raised wrist. From the looks of it, she’s squeezing a lot harder than Mom had squeezed his wrist.
There’s a lot of furious shouting, and Reggie backs up a little. This is all his fault. If he was just smarter, Mom wouldn’t be so mad. He knows Rose means well, but as soon as he gets home Mom is going to take it out on him, and probably forbid him from going to the Molinas ever again.
It’s only because Ray puts himself between the two that prevents a total drag out fight. He pulls his wife away with one strong arm, but then wraps the other around Reggie's shoulders and pulls him away as well. He can hear his mom insist he get back here, and he knows there will be hell to pay later, but he clings to Ray instead, letting him guide him away.
It's a confusing mess after that, with a trip to the guidance counselor, a talk with a social worker, Julie and Flynn hugging him tight after he gets out of that meeting, red-eyed and cried out... and then suddenly, he's at the Molina house, sitting on Julie's bed in her favourite yellow smiley face sweater as Rose piles blankets on the air mattress.
It's called a kinship placement, the social worker explains to him later. When someone he already knows well takes him in. Usually that's a grandparent, or an aunt or uncle. But the Molinas offered, and they passed all the background checks. She does ask him if he wants to stay here, or if he'd prefer a different foster home, and he rushes to reassure her that yes, the Molinas are awesome, please don't send him back to Georgia to live with his dad's estranged sister.
He gets his own room, Rose taking him shopping to pick out paints and wallpaper and bed sheets and cool stuff to put on the walls. Ray stocks the kitchen with his favourite cereal and poptart flavours, and gets him his own designated mug. It has a picture of a dog holding a slice of pizza in its mouth. Julie teases Luke and Alex and Bobby that sorry, Reggie's vote for movie night counts twice now, since he lives here. They watch a lot of Star Wars.
It still feels a little unreal by the time December rolls around. Apparently Rose and Ray made a deal many years ago that she has to wait until December first to decorate for Christmas. Which she does, but it also means he and Julie come home on December first to find piles and piles of boxes in the living room, festive garlands already wrapped along the staircase, lights on the porch.
"Just in time to help me with the tree!" Rose says, but it comes out muffled, because she's got a nail between her lips. She takes it out, using a hammer to drive it into the wood above the fireplace. The entire mantle is covered in a tiny little Christmas village, little houses resting on soft fluffy white fabric to simulate snow. She finishes the nail, and grabs some stuff from another box.
A blue stocking with little cameras embroidered on it that reads Ray. One with a music note fabric that says Rose. A deep purple stocking with white butterflies on it that said Julie, and a baseball patterned one that said Carlos. They’re off center, Reggie thinks, and there was one nail too many. Except then Rose goes into the other room and comes back with a beautiful red and black plaid stocking that reads Reggie. The fabric looks just like his favourite flannel.
"You got me a stocking?" he asks, shocked.
"Of course," Rose says, hanging it up. "Reggie, you're family."
That Christmas, Ray insists they all smoosh together on the couch in their matching Christmas pyjamas to take some new family photographs. After all, they need to update the ones on the mantle to include their new son.
#julie and the phantoms#make reggie a molina 2kalways#fanfic#I wrote a thing#reggie peters#julie molina#rose molina#ray molina#tw child abuse#christmas#I got this prompt like four times and yes I am going to fill it four different ways#Ray in that stairwell like: on the one hand I would love to see my wife kick mrs peters' ass#on the other hand we don't want to traumatise Reggie#just picture Reggie in his Official Molina Christmas Pyjamas#beaming from his place between Julie and Carlos on the couch#Ray setting the camera up and trying not to cry as he squeezes in next to Rose
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52 :3
And can I also kiss you?? 😭
52: “Can I kiss you?”
prompt game :^)
⟡ cw: mentions of withdrawals, struggles with alcoholism, depression, specifically soggy wet cat vendetta leon but can be read with damnation leon in mind :3
⟡ a/n: YES we are smooching, i am kissin u on the mouf rn 🤍
“Can I kiss you?”
What the hell was he saying.
One minute, he’s trembling over a plate of eggs and pancakes back at the hotel, and now he’s barely holding himself back from slumping against your shoulder like an old dog. You had insisted on dragging his miserable ass out of there, told him to get his shit together. That you were going for a ride, and he should hang on.
(Of course he was too stubborn to let you drive, no matter the fact that he had already put down half a bottle this morning.)
So despite his better judgement, he allowed you pull him away from those four walls that were his hotel room, all under the promise that it’d still be there when he got back.
Sure, he didn’t want to leave. If his hangover had anything to say about it, he’d be tucked back under the covers of that shitty, scratchy duvet in the fetal position. His head was pounding. But sat here on this stoop tucked away into the mountains, overlooking the small town he had sought out to lick his wounds within, the cool breeze sweeps away some of the tension in his facial features. The fresh air has coaxed that stress out of his shoulders, loosened him up in a way alcohol hadn’t managed to in years.
But maybe it was you.
You, tucked against his side, thumbing slow circles into the back of his palm. The scent of your shampoo drifting through the breeze that passes his nose that has his heart rate slowing. Honestly, he didn’t want to pull this apart. Whether it was the fresh air or you by his side that had him relaxing for the first time in months (years?), it didn’t matter. Because he asked a stupid question, and he doesn’t really feel like taking it back.
“Leon, you’re drunk,” you scoff, shaking your head. As if kissing your superior was such a far fetched idea. Or maybe you just didn’t want to kiss him. He couldn’t blame you, he’s not sure he even bothered to pack a toothbrush when he sought out a direct flight to Colorado.
“I’m the most sober I’ve been in weeks, right now.”
In his defense, he was telling the truth. After arriving at that run down mug, he had made it his mission to slug back as much as he could before he had to leave. Because he knew this was coming — whether in the form of a text message detailing his next deployment, or with the arrival of military personnel — and he had stuck it to himself to ignore it for as long as possible. Started digging that hole of sweet silence into his subconscious the second he got his room key.
And yet…. Here he was. Sobered up and wanting. Forced to face the sad reality that he was lonely, damn it.
Alright, universe, you win. He’ll admit it. Why else would you be playing with his head like this? Those eyes, deep as the ocean, bright as the stars. Pretty lips that fill out so delicately, cheeks that look softer than anything he’s felt in months. You were the embodiment of something a man like him didn’t deserve, and no withdrawal could create the guttural rawness of the wound this reality inflicted on him.
You weren’t a daydream, and you weren’t an illusion. You were tangible, distantly so. And after having been dragged back down to earth, he needed something stronger than what was in his flask.
Chancing a glance over at him, it’s clear you’re debating with yourself. Your teeth tucking that sweet bottom lip under them, plush in how it swells ever so slightly under the pressure. Lashes fluttering when you search his features. He was definitely in better shape than you had found him this morning, silverware clinking and wobbling in his unsteady grip.
The sight almost made you want to slip them from his hands, cut his food up for him like a doting mother. Maybe guide a few bites past his lips like some guilt ridden caregiver, anything to bring some color back to his cheeks.
But you’d never say that out loud.
“… I believe you,” you hum, gaze shifting back up from the dip of his cupids bow. A shitty cover to ignore how you had just wondered how that scruff over it would feel against your mouth. “Just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Yeah?” He dryly laughs, short and null of any real humor. “Just like how joining this god forsaken organization wasn’t either, right?”
Silence. Thick, drawn out.
Few people knew just how Leon ended up in the DSO, landed himself in such a comfortable place with the higher ups. And fewer knew why he stayed. It’s hard to really respond to that when you’re not part of that statistic.
“I’m sorry,” you find yourself muttering softly, turning away again. Shifting your focus back out to gaze over the town below, the traffic flow of patrons returning home, shops turning off lights.
“Don’t be. I’m being a dick right now.”
Leon forgot how snippy he could be during withdrawals nowadays. Made him feel like an overgrown baby, still stuck in his oral phase. That flask in his pocket might as well have become a pacifier, anything to keep him from spinning off the handle.
“You’re acting like one, yeah. Doesn’t make you one.”
Pausing, Leon glances at you, follows the line of your side profile for a moment. Studies the line of your nose, the slope of your top lip. Down and over the jut of your chin, the retreat of your jaw. He wanted to follow that track with the bridge of his nose, maybe press his lips to the hollow of your throat.
Fuck. Maybe he wasn’t nearly as sober as he thought.
Clearing his throat, he shakes his head, glances out in the general direction you’re looking in. Can’t help how he finds similarities between the slopes of the mountains and your face.
“I’m glad you think so.”
#HIIIII um sowwy I used this prompt as a punching bag :3#me when pathetic depressed men: YIIPPEEEEE !!!!!!#blaming my moms poor choices of boyfriends in my formative years fr 💪#yaps. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚#fairies. 𐦍#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#vendetta leon x reader#resident evil x reader#resident evil imagines
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"I really hope so."
*ends in a cliffhanger, if you guys want I can write more*
prompt: "Where do we go from here?" & "You tell me."
word count: 3,038
Rapid knocking woke me up this morning around three. In the moment I can’t tell which is louder the knocking or my heartbeat. I slowly and quietly tiptoe over to the front door to look through the peephole. As I pass the closet I grab a hockey stick Mat left me “for protection.” I argued it wouldn’t protect me much, but he wouldn’t stop until I took it. I see the hockey players outside the door soaking wet. I open the door and grab him pulling him into the house. “Barzy what the hell are you doing,” I ask voice slightly raised from the panic still coursing through me. He looks down at me to answer but his eyes drift to the hockey stick in my hand.
“Thought it wasn’t going to protect you,” he tried to joke but I could tell something was bothering him. I poke him with it while he lets out a small laugh and throws it on the couch behind us. The small joy he just had is gone and his eyes fill with tears. “She left me again,” his voice cracked and the dam behind his eyes broke. Tears began to mix with the leftover raindrops on his face. “Oh Barzy,” I say throwing my arms around him. He buries his head in my neck and squeezes my waist. I run my fingers through his dark locks, occasionally smoothing out a small knot. His body shook as he cried. I just stood there holding him, only letting go when he did.
“C’mon let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” I whisper slipping my hand into his and pulling him towards my bedroom. He sat on the edge of my bed while I searched through my closet for clothes of his I had stolen over the years. I pull out an old Islanders shirt and some sweatpants and pass them to him. “I looked everywhere for this stupid shirt. I should have known you had it,” he laughed going to the ensuite bathroom to change. “That and about six more,” I say pulling back the sheets and throwing the top blanket I had for the cold off. Mat was a space heater and very cuddly when he was upset. So if we slept with that on we would both wake up sweating.
Mat walks out and sees you fixing up the bed and just stops and watches you. He is so grateful to have you as his best friend. There weren’t many people who would be so kind and loving towards him when he woke you up banging on the door at three in the morning. I look up and just see him staring. “Stop being weird you dork,” I laugh tossing a pillow at him. He shakes his head and walks over to the side of the bed I was standing on. “Did you want this side,” I ask confused because he always sleeps on the other side. He just wraps his arms around me and whispers “thank you” into my hair. I take in a deep breath and hum in acknowledgement rubbing my hands up and down his back.
When the two of us finally got into bed and settled down, my brain started to drift off. I had known Mat for about four years now and we had gone through a whole lot together. Every time I thought something would break us and make us drift apart, it only ever brought us closer. I don’t really remember when the lines started to blur between friendship and more to me. But as I am laying here next to him, I can’t help wishing it could always be like this. My thoughts were interrupted by Mat,” Thanks again for everything Y/n. You’re a really good friend.” I never knew one word could make me feel so sick.
I rolled over at ten o’clock and sighed turning over to see the bed empty. Worried Mat had done something stupid, I rushed out of my room and searched the house for him. I stopped when I heard a soft voice coming from the kitchen. “Yes I am aware that I’m not at home,” I hear him say to whoever is on the end of the call. I peeked around the corner and see Mat standing against the island rubbing his face. “Of course, I came here. She is my best friend,” he raised his voice only a little assuming I was still asleep. I could hear her voice now, the ex-girlfriend who hated me.
We didn’t start out on the right foot and there was never really any going back from that. She cornered me at a team party and told me to back off of Mat because he wanted someone beautiful like her and not me. Safe to say I didn’t care for her too much after that. I was always friendly for Mat’s sake because he was truly happy and she was really nice to everyone else. So I held my tongue and tried to coexist.
“Don’t talk about her like that. She is the only reason I am still holding it together right now. Yes, it is fair. You promised after the last time you would stop talking to him and you didn’t. So don’t make me the bad guy here for calling you out on it.” I could hear her getting louder and he cut her off,” it isn’t the same. You dated him, you slept with him, you loved him. She is nothing more than my best friend okay,” his voice raised to match hers. His words hit me like a bullet. I tried to turn around and go back to my room, not trying to hear anything else to break my heart more. I bumped into a shelf I had in the hallway with my pinky toe.
I let out a few colorful words and dropped down to the floor. I hear footsteps and Mat is quickly down on the floor with me looking me over. He finally sees me holding my foot and gently moves my hand to try and get a better look at it. I couldn’t really see much through my blurred vision thanks to the tears. At least I can play them off as physical pain now and not emotional pain. “Shh it’s okay, I got you,” he said holding me. He repositioned us and carried me over to the couch. He left and came back with a bag of frozen vegetables.
He carefully placed them on my foot and looked up at me. “You okay,” he whispered. I shook my head yes and gave him the best fake smile I could. Apparently I had gotten pretty good at them over the years because he nodded and rubbed my calf. He brought me some pain meds and a glass of water. “You sure you don’t need anything,” he asks looking all over my face. I shake my head no. “Okay so what are we watching,” he says getting comfortable on the couch. I sigh wishing I could get sucked into a black hole at this very moment. “I don’t know Barzy, whatever you want,” I say looking at the TV and not him.
“Okay so you’re cool if I put on game highlights,” he asks already queueing them up. “Yeah that sounds fine,” there is no emotion in my voice. “Okay, I know you aren’t fine now. You hate watching highlights with me. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” he scoots closer to me and puts his hand on my knee. I tense up under it and his face drops. “Did I do something,” he asks voice filled with fear and confusion. “No you didn’t do anything. I told you I was fine Mat,” I hugh off already tired of pretending my heart hadn’t shattered five minutes ago. I knew it wasn’t his fault, you can’t help who you are attracted to. I know I shouldn’t take it out on him, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care at that moment.
“Mat,” his voice breaks a little and he gives me a weird look,” You never call me Mat. Y/n please talk to me.” I shake my head tears falling down my face again. He tries to wrap his arms around me and I shrug him off. “I really can’t do this right now okay,” I cry standing up and trying to walk away but the pain in my toe sends shock waves throughout my body. “No, you can’t just walk away. We promised to always tell each other everything, remember? So tell me what I can do to fix it,” he says moving to stand in front of me blocking my way around him to leave. I look up at him and I can see water brimming in the bottom of his eyes. “You can’t fix it. Okay, no one can. So please drop it,” I say dropping back onto the couch.
“How do you know that? You can’t know that unless you tell me,” I can hear the aggravation in his voice. “Please don’t make me do this okay,” I whisper pleading with him. “Okay I won’t,” he says after looking at me for a minute. He walks towards the couch and squats in front of me. “But if won’t tell me I’m leaving. I’m walking through that door Y/n,” he says sternly and looking into my eyes. I stay quiet and make no move to speak. “You know what forget this,” he says standing up and walking towards the door. “You know I came here last night because you are the only person I trust enough to be this way with. I guess I thought you trusted me enough too,” these were his last words before he walked out of the door.
The last time I saw Mat was two weeks ago after he walked out. I didn’t blame him for doing it, hell I would have done the same thing. I didn’t tell him because I didn’t want to lose him and that’s what I did anyway. I tried to call him and left him a couple text but got nothing in response. The longer I went without seeing him the harder it was. I wasn’t sleeping and was barely eating. The doorbell interrupted my thoughts and I ran to it thinking maybe it was Mat. I threw it open to see an Islanders hockey player, just not the one I had hoped for.
“Well don’t look too disappointed,” Tito said when my face dropped. “Sorry, I just thought maybe, you what nevermind,” I said walking back to the couch and letting him stand at the door deciding if he should come in or not. He sat next to me and looked around my living room. “I mean this with so much love, but sweetheart you look like shit,” his voice is as soft as the look he gives me. I try to speak but no words come out. I just start crying again and he pulls me in. “I know,” he says. Of course he does, he is Mat’s friend way before he is mine. After hearing that I shake him off and move further down the couch. “Hey no. C’mon, we are doing this okay,” he traps me in the corner of the couch and doesn’t let me go.
“You shouldn’t be nice to me. I hurt your best friend, you should hate me,” I choke out through my sobs. “Sweetheart you are my best friend too. Just because I see him more doesn’t mean I love you any less. And I know you would never hurt anyone on purpose, Barzy most of all. So I know you had a reason,” he looks at me waiting for some kind of sign. I nod my head yes and look up at him. “Okay wanna tell me why,” he asks quietly. I shake my head no. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me. But I will tell you this, two of my favorite people in the whole world are hurting right now. And if I can help even just a little bit I want to,” Tito had always had the biggest heart.
“You can’t tell him. I mean it Tito, not a signal word,” I say before taking a deep breath. “Promise,” he nods looking at me waiting. “I’m in love with him, Tito. And I have been for a while now. And he shows up here all sad about the breakup. I always have to help him when some girl breaks his heart. He always comes to me for comfort and cuddles and I give it to him every damn time. I kept thinking one day he would see me, as more than just a friend,” I start and finally look over at him to gauge his reaction. He is calm and just reaches down and grabs my hand,” I heard him walking to her the next morning. I guess he was talking to her ex again and that’s why they broke up again. She said something about him running to me and he said it was different. She dated, slept with, and loved him and I was just a friend. That’s all I will ever be to him. I tried to run back to my room and hurt my stupid foot and I was so mean to him. He needed a friend but I don’t know if I can be that anymore.” After that whole long rant, I broke down again and sobbed.
He held me for what felt like hours. I finally cried myself to sleep on his shoulder. He sat right there and let me. I woke up and it was dark outside, the only light coming from the TV. “Shit is that too loud. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says turning it down. “No, it’s fine. You didn’t wake me up,” My voice was scratchy from all the crying. He looked down at me and smiled. “I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered bumping my shoulder with his. “I love you too. Thanks for not only being his friend but mine too,” I smile leaning back into him. “Always. Plus you smell way better than him. Well, usually not right now because wow,” he jokes and I hit him in the chest. We both laugh and it was the first time in two weeks I had done that.
Tito finally left and I cleaned up the mess I had piled up for two weeks. I took a shower and actually put on clothes that didn’t have old stains on them. Throwing them into the laundry I found Mat’s clothes from that night. I picked them up and hugged them. I really did miss him. Maybe there was a chance I could still be his friend and not break my own heart in the process. I quickly fold them up and grab my keys heading to my car. I drove to his place and sat there in for a few minutes working up the nerve to go in. His room man recognized me and waved me in. “Missed seeing you around here kid. Think buddy boy has too,” he laughs ushering me to the elevator. “Why’s that,” I ask stepping in after him. “I haven’t seen the boy smile in weeks. Is he okay,” he asks me. “I don’t know, but that’s why I’m here. Checking in on him,” I smile at him when the doors open on the right floor. “Give him my best,” he smiles and the door closes leading him back downstairs.
I took a deep breath and knocked on his door. I waited and waited but I didn’t hear anything so I turned around to leave. “Y/n,” I hear his confused voice behind me. I turned around expecting to see him just as bad as I was, but he looked just like he always did great. “You left these,” I say pushing the clothes towards him. He reaches down and takes them. “That all,” he asks, I can tell he is implying that I am going to talk to him about that morning. I open my mouth to try and speak but nothing comes out. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Goodnight Y/n,” he walks back inside the apartment and goes to close the door. “I’m in love with you,” my words rush out before thinking too much about it.
He freezes in the doorway. His back is still turned but he quit walking. “I have been for a while and hearing you say you didn’t feel the same really hurt me, so I lashed out at you. And that wasn’t fair. But I miss you so freaking much Barzy. I know you don’t love me, which is okay really. If you can move passed it I can too,” I say walking closer to him. He slowly turns around and meets my eyes for the first time tonight.
I look past him into the apartment and something pink catches my eye. I know as soon as I see it what it means. They were back together. She was in there and I was out here looking like an absolute idiot. He follows my gaze and his head snaps back to me. “No. hey Y/n let me explain,” he starts but I shake my head. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me Mat,” I say turning away and start walking back to the elevator. I push the button when I hear his footsteps getting closer.
“Where do we go from here,” he asks as I turn getting on the elevator. “You tell me,” I say. This time he is the one with nothing to say and I am the one leaving. “I’m sorry,” he croaks out tears filling his eyes. I smile shaking my head and letting tears roll down my cheeks. “Don’t be. I’ll be okay, I promise,” I say pushing the lobby button. “What about us? Will we be okay,” he asks sounding like a scared little boy. The doors start to close and I give him one last smile,” I really hope so.”
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Connect... 4?
Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Summary: You spend a fun day in, with Wanda, Billy and Tommy
A/N: I found this request really difficult to find inspiration for, lucky for me @nameforthemain came to my rescue (thank you mate!) The request can be found here. Comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated!
Prompt: “I can’t believe you said that, you take that back.”
It is summer break for Billy and Tommy so you and Wanda booked time off from avenging to spend it with your kids.
Petting zoos, amusement parks, museums, you have done it all. Because it has been an action packed few weeks it was decided you would spend a few relaxing days at home.
If you could call it that.
For a while all of you played with different toys then various board games together, four player games which then switched to two vs two games, changing partners every so often.
That was until you and Wanda got to the game you were currently playing. The children have been long forgotten as you concentrate on the puzzle sitting between the two of you.
You have spent long minutes staring at the different combinations in front of you while your fingers play with a red counter piece.
"It's not rocket science honey, just put in your piece and get ready to lose," Wanda lets out a cocky remark.
You look up at her with an unimpressed look.
Wanda, the mother of your children, your wife, the light of your life, is going down. There is no way you are going to lose this.
Looking back at the rows before you, you go back to your planning. Finally you drop a piece into an empty column.
Wanda chuckles and immediately plays her turn blocking your planned potential four-in-a-row.
You squint your eyes and raise a brow at her. A smirk is playing on her lips which you don't understand because she has never been good at this game, where is this confidence coming from?
Something is definitely not right.
The game continues and the board slowly fills up, it isn't looking good for you. If Wanda doesn't make a mistake then she will win when you inevitably have to play a piece into a column that will give her the win.
And that is exactly what happens.
You sigh, a sour look on your face when you slide in that final counter, then turn away like that will stop your loss.
Before the red plastic you drop in even hits the empty frame below it Wanda is already placing her yellow piece in the same line. "I win!" She cheers with her arms in the air, hands stretched out.
"There's no way, you definitely cheated," you accuse.
"I can’t believe you said that, you take that back!" Wanda exclaims.
"No," you mock in a murmur crossing your arms over your chest side eying her..
Billy hears the commotion and moves away from his lego to ask, "What are you two arguing about?"
"Just about how your mom is a cheater," you say.
Wanda lets out a gasp, "No I am not!" She exasperates and throws a counter at you which you catch.
"Are you allowed to use your powers, mom? Because I saw your eyes turn red when you were waiting for your turn," he says easily.
With wide eyes you turn to Wanda, "I knew it!"
Wanda sighs and tries not to smile at getting caught out.
"Thank you son!" You exclaim, standing from sitting on the floor. Billy goggles when you lift him in the air excitedly, "A witness to corroborate my suspicions!"
When Tommy sees this he runs over with his arms up saying he wants a turn at being thrown in the air.
"Billy, I can't believe you. I thought we were friends," Wanda pouts.
"But mom you're the one who tells us to do the right thing," Billy says while you and Tommy, who is resting on your hip in your arm, nod your heads agreeing.
With no leg to stand on Wanda shakes her head in shame and confirms he is right. She can't go against that logic.
"Because mom cheated and therefore lost," you say smugly, putting Tommy down onto the ground. "I think she should bake us some cookies. Right, boys?"
"Yes!" "Alright!" They agree in unison.
"I have a better idea, how about we make them together," Wanda suggests.
"You're right, that is a better idea. This is why you're the boss," you agree and place a chaste kiss to Wanda's lips. "First one down gets to eat the chocolate chips!" You shout and immediately run to the kitchen leaving the rest of your family in the dust.
Bill and Tommy run off shortly after claiming you always do this and it is unfair while Wanda is left, laughing at your escapades.
With Wanda alone in the room, she rubs at her stomach and speaks down to it, "I think it's time to tell them this family is going to get a little bigger, don't you?" There is a little flutter in her stomach which she takes as a response to her question when really it is probably her own excitement.
She smiles as she strolls to the noise she can hear in the kitchen, most likely disagreements over the chocolate chips you are probably holding out of the boys' reach.
Wanda thinks it is time for her to step in and ban anyone else from eating any more chocolate then make some 'cheat free' cookies for her family.
#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x y/n#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff fanfic#wanda fanfic#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda imagine#wanda maximoff marvel#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda fluff#fluff#scarlet witch x reader#scarlet witch#scarlet witch fanfic#scarlet witch imagine#scarlet witch fluff#marvel fanfic#marvel#mcu reader insert#self insert fanfiction#fic#1 year celebration#connect four tag
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can u do prompts 34,46 with joey where he wakes up with y/n sucking him off and eventually it ends up doggy style but he puts it in y/n ass and can it also include squirting (sorry i’m a kinky whore for joey)
I AM FUCKING SCREAMING ANAL WITH JQ YESSSSSSSSSS THANK YOU ANON
34. Push that ass up for me
46. There's no better way to wake up than with your mouth on me.
Joseph Quinn x Reader
Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it lads), squirting, anal, creampie swearing, rpf (don't like, don't read!)
Hoe-vember masterlist
"Fuck."
A broken moan above you makes you glance up at Joe, eyes still heavy with sleep and cheeks flushed. His hair is a complete mess; it had been a heavy night last night topped off with some pretty wild, drunk sex until the early hours, so to wake up to see and feel you with his cock in your mouth both confused and aroused him beyond belief. "Didn't get enough last night?" He smirks, and an extra flick of your tongue to the head of his cock makes him immediately hiss.
"Can never get enough of you," you say, slowly pumping your hand along his length as your mouth travels down to his balls. His fingers thread into your hair as you suck gently, making sure to twist your wrist at the top of his dick like you know he loves.
"I'm not complaining," Joe shoots you a sleepy smirk, watching you through hooded eyes as your mouth returns to his cock, taking him deep into your throat. "Fuck...There's no better way to wake up than with your mouth on me, baby."
Your eyes flick up to him as you deep throat him, and a shiver passes through you as he grunts and tightens his grip on your hair. You come up for some air, wanking him quickly. His cock twitches again, and his hips buck - a telltale sign that he's close. "Shit, don't wanna cum yet. On your hands and knees, beautiful."
You obey, but not before pressing a quick kiss to the head of his cock which makes him chuckle. His chuckle dies in his throat and then turns into a low grown as you move onto all fours. "Push that ass up for me." Again, you obey, arching your back and pressing your chest into the mattress, full exposing your glistening pussy to him. "Fuuuuck," Joe moves onto his knees behind you and spanks your ass cheek making you squeal.
The moan that escapes both of you as Joe grips your hips and pushes his cock slowly into you is pornographic, like seriously people would pay to wank to that shit. Joe takes no time in building up a steady, deliciously rough rhythm. Joe angles his hips just right and hits your g-spot, almost making your legs give out. "Yeah? There?"
"Yes, yes, yes, fuck, Joe, gonna make me cum!" You whine, clawing at the sheets beneath you. You didn't think it was possible for him to fuck you harder, but he does, fingers digging into your hips as he ruts into you, grunting with his efforts to make you lose it for him.
What tips you over the edge is Joe pushing his thumb and then index finger into your awaiting ass, the sensation of him filling both your holes has you screaming out his name, your body convulsing and a clear stream of liquid gushes from your pussy, staining the bedspread below you. You hear Joe chuckle "Holy shit!" as he reaches round to hold you up. Your orgasm seems to go on and on, making you see stars and your skin tingle.
But you weren't satisfied.
"M-more" you pant as you come to, pushing your ass as close to your boyfriend as possible so he would get the message.
"Really?" You hear the suprise in his voice and just know his eyebrows are raised to the heavens. Anal wasn't necessarily a rare occurrence but you very rarely ever insinuated it. "Fuck, need to hear you say it."
"Fuck my ass, Joe." You growl through gritted teeth, unbelievably horny and frustrated with the damn talking.
"Yes, ma'am."
Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Joe pushes the blunt head of his cock into your ass, the burn making you tense. "Shh, baby, relax, I got you, gonna make you feel so good, yeah?" He reaches down and his fingers brush your clit, rubbing it in small torturous circles.
When he eventually bottoms out inside you, you shiver and he hisses. "Fuck, you're so tight, gonna move now, okay?"
"Please" you whisper, whimpering as he rocks his hips experimentally. "Faster, Joe, fuck!"
"Alright, alright, you know if you weren't so fucking hot I wouldn't let you boss me around like this-"
"Joe!"
He responds by moving faster, the sensation of being so full had your head spinning and your pussy gushing. You slap his clumsy hand away from your clit, taking over in a steady rhythm, quickly approaching another orgasm.
"Shit, Y/N, you gonna cum again? Can you cum with me, love? Not gonna last if you keep tightening around my dick like this..." Joe babbles, another tell tale sign he was getting close. "Fuck, can I cum in you? Please say I can cum in you-"
"Yes, fuck, cum in me please Joe, need it!" You gasp, frantically rubbing your clit to trigger your second orgasm of the morning as Joe slams home one more time, coming deep in your ass with a guttural moan and slumping over you, sweaty chest resting on your equally sweaty back, making you collapse on the bed. Both of you are panting messes, skin slick with the afterglow of sex, but Joe doesn't care, pushing some of your hair away from your shoulder and neck to pepper kisses along your clammy skin.
"Morning," you grin, turning your head to meet his. Your heart flutters at the sight of his post-sex flush, messy bed hair and dopey grin. His lips meet yours in a very soft but passionate kiss. He tries to push his tongue in your mouth but you pull away. "Nuh uh, no tongues before 10, Quinn. Your morning breath is rank."
"I've literally just had my dick in your ass, but I can't put my tongue in your mouth?!" He feigns hurt, clutching his chest. "Wow, my girlfriend really doesn't love me."
"Actually, your girlfriend loves you very much, hence the dick in the ass thing." You quip, rolling over to face him properly. You pinch his naked butt. "But she'd love you even more if you made breakfast."
"Well, I suppose you did wake me up with a blow job...that's at least worthy of a bacon sandwich." Joe grins and winks at you, kissing the end of your nose before hopping up and putting his boxers on. Your mouth hangs open.
"A bacon sandwich?! I let you fuck my ass, Quinn!"
"Fine, a bacon AND egg sandwich." He smirks, ducking to avoid the pillow you lob at him. "Oi! Alright...With a hash brown?"
You pause.
"Damn right with a hash brown."
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For @dandylion94, based on the prompt: “Dolores went out for milk.”
Alternatively known as the biggest betrayal in La Casa Madrigal.
This ended up running long, so there will be a second part (the aftermath) coming out later this month.
~~~~~~
Milk
“ENOUGH!”
Isabela, Luisa and Antonio instantly stopped squabbling, turning their heads to where Dolores stood. While Camilo, who was still ranting about the very cheat-filled game of Charades, hadn’t even noticed his sister shouting at all.
“And then I saw that I had been cruelly replaced by Luisa as a teammate of all—” He was cut off by Antonio elbowed him in the gut. “Ow! What was that for?”
Though yelling at them again was tempting, Dolores patiently waited for Camilo to actually shut up and look her way.
She had been patient already this morning, what was a few more seconds?
The adults had left at seven that day - her parents, Abuela and Tío Bruno were visiting her father’s side of the family at one corner of Encanto for a few days. And at the furtherest side from Casita, Julieta and Agustín had been visiting the latter’s parents for the weekend; they would be coming back later tonight.
Regardless, their plans had left Dolores completely in charge for (just under) twenty-four hours. That meant she had to babysit Isabela, Luisa, Camilo and Antonio. Albeit with Mirabel’s help - though Dolores had left her cleaning up the mess in the dining room.
By half nine, Dolores was done.
“I just wanted to tell you all that I’m going out shopping. In case any of you are wondering where I am later.” She informed, calmly.
“What for?” Camilo asked.
“To get milk.”
“Great. Can you also pick up some—”
“No,” Dolores shook her head, smiling. “We don’t need anything else. Just milk.”
Isabela waved her hand, mindlessly watching jacaranda petals fall through her fingers. “Okay, so why are you telling us? That’s one thing - you’re gonna be like five minutes at most. We won’t even notice you’re gone.”
“Normally yes, but the milkman is on the other side of Encanto just now. It’s going to take a little longer.” Dolores reasoned.
“Just wait for him to come back to our side then,” Luisa suggested.
“Or maybe you could go now and get something for us to pass the time?” Added a hopeful Camilo. “Maybe some sweets for your favourite brothers?”
“We need fresh milk though, Luisa.” She argued, gritting her teeth.
“Won’t it still be fresh by then?” Antonio piped up.
“Yeah, milk doesn’t go bad that quickly, Dolores. And by the time you walk there and back—”
Dolores gasped a little at what she heard. “Oh, the milkman actually isn’t coming back this way today!” She let out a heavy sigh as she turned to leave, “I guess I will have to go to him now or else we won’t have milk for the rest of the week.”
There was a mutter of “goodbye” from the four as Dolores walked off.
She poked her head around the dining room, “I’m going out.”
“What? Why?” Mirabel squeaked in alarm. “Abuela said none of us were allowed to leave. You can’t leave me. The others won’t listen to me, it’ll be chaos and what if something—”
“We need milk, primita.”
Mirabel didn’t look any calmer by the explanation, but couldn’t find it in her to argue. Dolores should have felt bad - she didn’t, however. Even as she could almost see Mirabel trying to reason with her anxieties in her head.
It was one thing. A thing they would need. Dolores wouldn’t be long.
“See you soon then,” she said.
Dolores visibly relaxed upon shutting the front door behind her, heading off down the path to the gloriously sunlit town and her welcomed freedom.
Honestly a day with her boyfriend, no gremlins in sight, was what she needed.
“HERMANA, CAN YOU PICK US UP SOME TREATS ON YOUR WAY TO GET THE MILK?!”
~~~~~~
The second the last authority figure was out of sight, the chaotic four got up to their desired mischief.
None of them had really wanted to play Charades anyways. That had been Mirabel’s distraction the second after Dolores left, alongside offering some cocadas, as a deal that they would behave while she finished cleaning the dining room.
It hadn’t been the original plan to cover the room in dirt. But, that was an hour ago.
“Oh my God!”
Luisa and Camilo poked their heads around their base to where Mirabel had seemingly appeared. She had been going to put away a broom, but couldn’t really get any further without stepping in the second mess of the day.
Mirabel glanced at each of them in turn. “What are you four doing? Throwing God knows what at each other…” she trailed off, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She carefully tiptoed her way over to Isabela and Antonio. “Stop, stop, stop! Where is Dolores? Isn’t she back yet?”
“Nope. She said something about the milk being on the other side of town. She’ll be back soon.” Isabela brushed off.
Antonio just nudged Isabela. “So… if the mud fight is over, does that mean we are officially the winners?”
“Obviously. It’s not like they were going to beat us. We were a hundred points ahead of them—”
She was promptly cut off by Camilo throwing a handful of mud into the side of her head. Within a second, she had pounced and tackled the teenager to the floor. Antonio happily following her example.
As the trio squealed and screamed, play fighting in the mud, Luisa was doubled over laughing.
Mirabel cast her eyes nervously around, internally praying that Dolores would walk through the door any second now and put an end to this.
“Please, Luisa.” She begged. “Can’t you make them stop?”
The woman in question simply chuckled.
“They’re just having fun, hermanita. What’s wrong with that?”
“They are fighting and making a mess. It’s horrible. Not to mention, it is definitely against the rules Abuela left.”
“The adults are out. This is when you’re meant to let loose - that’s what they expect - you’re allowed to have fun. You know? Make a bit of a mess, break something, not eat proper meals. Why don’t you go sew something—”
They are interrupted by an ear piercing screech, though it isn’t clear which of the three it was.
“Luisa? Please?” Mirabel tried again.
No luck.
She stepped forward to the other three and clapped her hands. They didn’t stop, or at least not as much as she intended, but they did give her their attention and she accepted that as good enough.
“All right, that’s enough,” she said. “I need you all to go change into something clean, leave the dirty clothes in the laundry room, and play something nicely together in a different room that doesn’t make a mess. Therefore I can clean everything up here. Please? You can have the rest of the cocadas?”
Isabela practically dropped Camilo from her grasp into the mud. “Whatever. Me and Antonio had already won anyways.”
~~~~~~
They did do as they were told. Changing into clean clothes and leaving the dirty ones for Mirabel to deal with.
Not long after changing and washing, however—
CRASH!
“Oh no!” Antonio cried out.
The group quickly scrambled off the roof, with help of both Casita and Isabela’s vines, to where Camilo now laid sprawled on the ground. Half-covered in what had been a homemade parachute. A failed homemade parachute at that. His eyes closed and face paled wasn’t a good sign.
Not a second later, Isabela started laughing.
“Isabela! Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”
“Sure, it wasn’t, Antonio.” Isabela kicked Camilo’s leg with her foot. “Okay, bitch, enough of the dramatics. Get up.”
He didn’t move. Eyes still closed.
“Camilo?” Luisa asked. “You fucking shit. I swear if you’re joking—”
“Dolores!” Antonio called.
“She’s not back yet.”
“Still? Then who… who’s the adult? Who do we call if something bad happens?” He sniffled, looking between his two cousins.
There was a beat before Isabela scoffed.
“Don’t look at me.”
“You’re the eldest, sis.”
“Bitch, it’s a two year difference—”
Mirabel suddenly appeared, interrupting the argument before it could start. Isabela and Luisa both gapping at the sight.
It wasn’t a secret that Mirabel was their mother’s replica. But, just now, with an apron and wispy, tired curls, the resemblance is fucking ridiculous. Especially with the terror stricken look on her face and one hand over her heart.
“Oh God, is he…”
“He’s not dead, sis.” Isabela said.
“What happened?”
Antonio, at least, looked a bit guilty. Isabela almost laughed again at the thought and had to turn away. Luisa looked away, innocently.
“We were making parachutes… and it didn’t work and Camilo fell. I heard him hit his head. Is he going to be alright, Mirabel?” Antonio whimpered.
“We’ll be able to tell a lot faster if we clear this up,” Mirabel mumbled, still in shock.
Luisa nodded firmly. She pulled away the homemade parachute and tossed it aside, before joining the others kneeling around the teen. Without the parachute in the way, they were relieved to find that Camilo’s arm hadn’t broken in the fall and was perfectly fine.
Antonio wailed. “Camilo? Camilo?!” Desperately hitting his brother, in an effort to wake him up.
Isabela pulled him back onto her lap, as red little hand prints became visible on Camilo’s face. “Toñito, that’s not really helping. Just give him space. He’ll wake up soon, okay?”
“The grown-ups are going to kill us,” Antonio continued. “Mama and Papa will be so mad and upset. What will Dolores think when she gets back and finds us like this? What if—”
Luisa gasped. “Hey, hey! He’s waking up.”
They all watched as Camilo’s eyes slowly blinked open, one eye blue and the other green - some effect of hitting his head and shapeshifting. Mirabel produced a small flashlight from her pocket, turning it on and waving it slowly in front of Camilo’s face.
He groaned, trying to smack the thing away, but only ended up hitting his nose. Isabela chocked, having to avoid looking at Luisa, who was also stifling a laugh.
“Ow… fuck… why do I feel like I’ve been slapped?” He grunted, leaning up a little.
Antonio went red. “Sorry. That was me. I was scared that you weren’t gonna—”
“Antonio, I’m okay, don’t worry,” he glanced around. “I thought the blanket-parachute was going to work. I guess that’s why real ones aren’t made in homes.” He batted Mirabel’s hand again.
“Wow, maybe that fall gave you some common sense.” Luisa teased. She smirked as Camilo scowled.
“Gee, thanks, Luisa. I’m glad you’re so concerned about my safety.” He smacked Mirabel’s hand again. “Prima, you’re not gonna have a hand in a minute if you keep flashing that thing in my face.”
“I’m sorry, but I need to check if your pupils dilated.”
Camilo huffed, but did let Mirabel finish, not without her switching to her left hand first - just in case the threat of losing a hand was still on the table.
“Are you okay, Camilo?” Antonio asked.
“Yeah, I’m okay, Toñito… wait, where did Dolores go?”
“She went to get milk like two hours ago?” Isabela raised an eyebrow at him.
“No, she was… she was here. She was sitting right there… between Mirabel and Luisa, like a second ago…”
The girls exchanged weird looks.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Mirabel whispered, leaning back.
“Uhh… maybe we should get you to sit down somewhere more comfortable?” Luisa suggested.
Isabela and Luisa grabbed either end of him and slowly carried him back through to the sitting room. Antonio hissed at Mirabel, not quite understanding what was happening, while she went off to retrieve supplies.
The pair laid him down on one of the sofas. Isabela helped him take his ruana off after he complained about being too hot.
Luisa bent down over the teenager, only a few centimetres away from his face. His eyes seemed to be shifting back to their normal colour, or at the very least, were the same. But his face was still a bit pale and could confirm what Mirabel was trying to explain to Antonio outside, his pupils were definitely dilated.
“I’m not dead, Luisa, there’s nothing to see,” he spat. “Fuck off and go lift something heavy or something.”
She smiled in relief. That was normal Camilo. He couldn’t be that injured if he was still his normal self, right?
But then, there was the whole hallucinating Dolores… where the hell was she anyways? Shouldn’t she be back by now?
Mirabel hurried back in, Antonio still yapping at her side. Luisa stepped aside to allow her to kneel by Camilo. Antonio joined Isabela in sitting on the neighbouring sofa, close enough to his brother, but still giving him some space. Luisa eventually sat down with them.
She pressed a wrapped towel against Camilo’s forehead with her left hand - clearly some form of ice already inside. While her right hand opened a bottle of medicine.
The second she’d filled the spoon, the boy groaned, turning his head away.
“I’m not drinking that.”
“Um,” Mirabel shrugged. “You kind of need to.”
“It’ll make you feel better,” Antonio piped up.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No thanks, I’ll wait for Tía Julieta to come back.”
“Milo, just let her help you.” Isabela snapped.
Realising he didn’t have a choice against Isabela, he took the spoon from Mirabel. To his surprise, the medicine didn’t taste quite as bad as he was expecting. He handed the spoon back without a word.
Antonio fidgeted. “Will he be okay?”
“Provided he rests,” Mirabel muttered.
“Rest?” Camilo squawked. “This is the last day before the adults come back! The last chance to do anything we want. I’m not resting!”
“Then you’ll just get worse, idiot.” Isabela pointed out.
“Maybe we should let him.” Luisa suggested.
“Don’t worry, hermano. We can stay here with you. That way you won’t feel left out.”
“Yeah. Bring the chaos in here, I like it—”
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on!” He glared at Mirabel, nudging her hand away again. “Why are you so boring?”
“You are injured; you need to rest. You are lucky you don’t have a severe concussion.” She glanced at the other three. “I think it would be best if you three did something elsewhere right now. Camilo’s not going to get any rest otherwise. I’ll be here, keeping an eye on him, if you need anything… is that okay with everyone?”
The trio chorused, “Yes.”
Camilo stuck his tongue out in disagreement, but was ignored. Mirabel guided the others quietly to the door.
Before they could go too far, she said, “Stay in the house and please, please, please, please, please. Please! Just behave yourselves. And don’t do anything that results in another mess or an injury. Understood?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you.” Mirabel sighed in relief, shutting the door.
Isabela smirked. “Right, where do the adults keep the matches?”
~~~~~~
A bonfire, several games of Slap Jack, and a failed attempt at making lunch before Mirabel intervened, had now brought them to playing darts with knives.
“No, seriously, how is Antonio better than me? Kids don’t even have aim.” Isabela grumbled.
Antonio beamed, proudly eyeing up the dart boards and the array of orange paint. They had each coloured their knives to tell them apart - orange for Antonio, purple for Luisa… and, well, Isabela changed her colour every other round.
“Imagine being left handed,” Luisa, who was undeniably winning, scoffed.
“You’re fucking using your left hand!” Isabela and Antonio screeched. Neither were happy with losing.
“Yeah, but I’m ambidextrous,” Luisa clarified, definitely bragging.
“And I’m not gonna be fucking beaten by you.” Isabela sneered. She snatched a knife from Luisa’s hand, briefly smearing green paint on the handle.
“Don’t be jealous, Bela.”
“I think it’s a little late for that—”
There was a smash sound across the way and th pair turned expectantly to Isabela. She’d taken her shot and using her right hand - trying to prove Luisa’s ambidextrous wasn’t special - had ended up throwing her knife straight into a photo of her parents, sending it to the floor.
Pieces of glass between the tiles, the frame cracked and the knife pinning the photo to the floor. The photo itself looked torn from the action.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, ISABELA?!”
“HOW THE FUCK ARE WE GONNA FIX THAT?!”
Isabela turned to face them, proud as anything. “What?” She exclaimed at their reaction. “It was in the centre. I still get the thousand points. Don’t be jealous that I’m winning now, Luisa.”
Before anyone could argue the toss, there was the sound of quick footsteps and soon enough Mirabel had joined them.
“I was making Camilo’s seventh lunch and I heard shouting and I— oh, Jesus Christ! What on earth are you four doing?!”
Isabela and Luisa looked down at her, having to do a double take at her shouting. Antonio watched too, equally as confused by the sudden shift in her behaviour, stepping further behind his cousins.
“Isabela! How could you let this happen? You are lucky that only nobody was harmed. What if that had been one of you?!”
“Wait, are you yelling at me?” Isabela asked, confused.
“Yes! I’m yelling at you!” Mirabel cried, ludicrously. “This is downright dangerous and borderline idiotic! And as the eldest, you should never have allowed things to go this far. You also promised that you would behave!”
“Right. My bad.” Isabela mused, though clearly she wasn’t listening. “You know you sound like our mother, right?”
Mirabel didn’t answer.
She slumped against the wall, crying. “God, I’m so stressed. I told Dolores I couldn’t do this… I don’t know how I am meant to get you to behave or even listen. I’ve tried bribery, begging, charm, bribery with money, not even shouting did anything.”
“Has she just been having some mental breakdown?” Isabela whispered.
“It would explain the hair.” Luisa whispered back. “And the fact she has just told us how she’s feeling, of her own accord, without claiming to be fine.”
They stared between each other, then back at Mirabel.
She had since moved from the wall. She’d grabbed an empty basket and was now filling it with the empty knife block, the makeshift dart board (knives and all). Before moving onto collecting every individual piece of glass and wood from the photo’s frame. Still crying.
“What do we do now?” Antonio asked, under his breath.
“Break into Bruno’s tower?”
“Break into Bruno’s tower.”
~~~~~~
“You should go.”
Mariano hummed, but he wasn’t really listening. Too busy dreamily staring at Dolores as he kisses her every so often.
“Mariano, seriously. How embarrassing would it be if my Tía and Tío walk home to find us kissing against front door like a couple of teenagers?”
“True,” he sighed. “But, you wouldn’t deny me one kiss for the road?”
“You’ve said this five times now. It doesn’t count.” She grumbled, but nevertheless kissed him.
He did look handsome in the moonlight, pleading at her. The light perfectly highlighting his face in all the right places - his jawline, his lips, his cheekbones, his eyes, his brow… everything.
“Now who’s bad at saying goodbye?” He teased.
Dolores blushed, rolling her eyes. “Now go. Your family will be worried.”
With Mariano finally heading back along the path, she chuckled to herself. Opening the door and walking into—
What the actual fuck?
Several pieces of furniture in various states of damage, Antonio’s animals wandering loose, multiple plants knocked over, multicoloured stains covering the railings and doorknobs and the odd few spots on the wall.
She could hear Camilo snoring in the sitting room, but there was no sound of the others.
Wait, Camilo? Sleeping? It’s only eight.
She almost jumped when she noticed Mirabel in the kitchen doorway. It would be hypocritical of her to say, but it’s creepy, just silently appearing out of nowhere - unlike Dolores, she’s not doing it on purpose though - they need to get her a bell or something, like a cat.
Before she could say anything, however, she instantly found herself with an armful of Mirabel. The girl was tightly hugging and full-on weeping, as if she feared Dolores would go again otherwise.
Dolores blinked.
The older looked over her cousin at Casita shrugging its tiles. What the hell did the gremlins do to her?
“Hm… Mira? I’m going to let go before your PTSD kicks in.”
“No. Not yet.” Mirabel said, sounding broken and very tired. “After today, you do owe me.”
Dolores couldn’t argue with that logic, she closed her arms around the teen.
As she did she heard Antonio, Luisa and Isabela walking over to the stairs, peering over the railing at her in realisation and guilt. Clearly working out they’d be made to answer for all this now.
Or Antonio and Luisa were.
Isabela looked confused for a moment. And then she smirked. “Prima? Where’s the milk?”
All eyes fell on Dolores and the distinct lack of milk bottles. Mirabel looked up at her in utter disbelief.
“Are you telling me… you have been gone the entire day - leaving me here with these children, to deal with all of their dangerous and idiotic forms of chaos, to keep your brother from a concussion - and you couldn’t manage to get the one thing you went out for!?”
Dolores didn’t say anything.
“It’s fine. Totally fine. I’m fine.” She said, backing up. “It’s not like there was any permanent damage, Camilo didn’t get a concussion, my sisters didn’t go to jail, nobody lost any limbs to the animals. That’s really all the adults expect from us, right? That we survive and the house is still standing? I didn’t fail anyone. I didn’t stray from the rulebook. Nobody can say I didn’t try.”
“Mirabel, breathe—”
“No. Nobody say or do anything until I am in my room and the door is firmly closed behind me. This has been a very challenging day and I am so proud of me for keeping it together.”
The others parted on the stairs for Mirabel as she passed.
Antonio just looked completely confused, Luisa was clearly debating about whether or not to follow her sister, and Isabela looked very disappointed at the fact Mirabel hadn’t even gotten a little bit angry.
Dolores was grateful Mirabel wasn’t an angry or vengeful person. But still, even without the threat of revenge, she felt bad.
And she’s never been great at keeping secrets.
She sighed. “We didn’t need milk. I just hid it and said we did, so I had an excuse to leave.”
Mirabel collapsed against the wall, too tired to really care anymore.
#encanto#ask me anything#my writing#dolores madrigal#mirabel madrigal#isabela madrigal#luisa madrigal#camilo madrigal#antonio madrigal#julieta madrigal#mariano guzmán#madrigal grandkids
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One Last Time
Very much Angst
Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader -> Requested
Prompt: Reader gets in a car crash that’s fatal, and Rosé refuses to believe your gone forever despite what everyone tells her. Reader can’t bare to watch her live on like that, so she visits her one last time.
………………………………………………………………………………
“Thanks for agreeing to pick me up this late,” you spoke to BLACKPINK’s manager as you got in the car, “I had to wait till they were all out doing something and wait till my kids were gone so I’d have time to do this.”
The woman in the driver’s seat, Haebom, just laughed in response. Haebom was the manager of the girls, and also a close friend of yours. When you met Rosé you got to know Haebom along the way.
“So,” she began, backing up from the parking lot, “what are you getting for them? Knowing you, you’ll go overboard.”
“Well, they all want something to do with fashion or video games, small gifts on the side. But as for Chae, I’m gonna get her a gift for our anniversary— and I don’t go overboard.”
“You do, but I won’t argue. They’ll love anything you get them, especially that wife of yours.” You hummed, looking out the window. Haebom drove down multiple streets, turning multiple times but you couldn’t help but notice the same car still behind you.
There was a pit in your stomach as you continued to watch the car. You didn’t want to jump to the conclusion you were being followed because the car you were in was heavily tinted, so what were they doing?
“I think someone’s following us.”
“What? Who?” She kept her eyes on the road.
You squinted, trying to make out the writing on the car following you. “It’s the paparazzi.”
“They must've seen you come out. I’ll try to lose them, we’ll just have to take a detour.”
They stay on your tail stubbornly, unfortunately. Your driver takes a turn once the light is green, but the next thing you know you're being jerked sideways by another car crashing into you.
That simple jerk would’ve been all you got, but no, the car was speeding and it was one of the bigger cars. Your car flipped over and skidded on its roof, hitting the railings of the road blockers.
It’s all a blur from there. Your manager took the blunt side of the hit, so she was able to call emergencies before passing out herself. You were transported to a hospital not long after.
“She’s got internal bleeding—”
“Trauma to the head, get the—” You wish the ringing in your ears would go away. You faded in and out of consciousness as they put you on a stretcher with wheels, the bright lights of the hallway made your head hurt even more. You seemed to be hooked up to some type of a breather.
All this is happening while the four eat dinner, celebrating Blackpink and how far they’ve gotten in life, until Chaeyoung gets a call.
She excuses herself and walks to the restaurant entrance and answers the phone. It’s from an unknown number.
“Hello?” She speaks. She hears shuffling on the other line, “Is this Mrs. Park? Chaeyoung Park?”
“Yes I am. Who is this calling?” It's then when she feels a sort of dread growing in her stomach.
“We found your number in Mrs. (Y/n)’s emergency contacts— I’m sorry to say this, but she’s been in a car accident, we have her at the hospital now—” She almost drops her phone. She feels sick.
The next thing she knows she’s sprinting back to the table to grab her purse, all the while tears are coming down her face. “Rosie? What’s wrong? What happened?” Jennie starts to stand up, so do the others.
“(Y/n), hospital—she’s— I have to go.” That’s all she chokes out. They leave the restaurant (not without paying the bill) and get in the car.
“Chaeng, what’s going on?” Jisoo rests a hand on her knee.
“The hospital called me, from emergency contacts on (Y/n)’s phone— they said she got into a car crash.” She cries, and the other girls start to worry now. The car ride is filled with reassurance to Chaeyoung.
They get there quickly nonetheless.
Chaeyoung practically sprints to the reception desk, leaving the girls fumbling to get out the car.
“(Y/n) Park? I’m her wife— the other three about to come in are her friends.”
The guy gives her the room number fast, sensing the urgency. He also had a feeling he would get his head bite off if he took longer.
She makes it to the room and steps in to see doctors fussing over you. They step out a minute later, recognizing Chaeyoung. And in doing this, they clear her view, allowing her to see you.
You looked awful. There was dried blood on the white sheets. You were hooked up to various wires and tubes to try and stabilize your breathing and keep you comfortable. A tube is placed down your nose and another leads into an IV drip. A heart monitor sits beside your bed, and you’re hooked up to a few other monitors. A bandage covers most of your forehead.
She takes a seat in the chair next to your bed and holds your hand. Her knee bounces as she fights the urge to wake you up.
A little later the rest of the girls come in, out of breath. They, too, frowned and felt tears prick their eyes at your state.
As if sensing the mood in the air you began to stir. You smiled when your vision cleared up and you were able to see Chaeyoung. “Hey..”
“Thank god you're awake.” Chaeyoung ran a thumb along your bruised knuckles.
“You're gonna stay strong for us, right?” You heard Jisoo’s voice. You nodded with reluctance. You had a feeling.
“But…what if I don’t get out of this? I mean, everything hurts…and you hear what the doctor said; it might take a miracle. I think I already used mine up because I have you and the girls in my life.” You tried to joke. Tried to give them an inkling that you weren’t gonna make it.
There was silence after you talked. Your wife broke it.
“You promised— remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. And I will always keep it.” Even if that means you’re not physically here. She grips your hand tighter, praying you’ll be okay.
You know you won’t, because laying here in this hospital bed, all you feel is pain. In your heart and bodily.
You no longer felt anything in your legs, then it went upwards. Your body slowly began to shut down. Then it was hard for you to keep your eyes open, so,
“I love you so much, and I’m…sorry.”
Your words rang in her head, deafening everything going on around her. Why are you talking like you're not going to make it? Like you’re breaking the promise you made?
Chaeyoung failed to notice the way your grip on her hand went limp. Failed to see that the electrocardiogram machine indicating your heart rate had gone flat. Failed to notice the way her best friends began to sob and break down. Failed to register and feel that someone had pulled her into their embrace, a wet liquid dripping onto her neck.
She didn’t understand why you sounded like that—
Chaeyoung failed to recognize anything, until she was back at home lying face down on the cool marble kitchen countertop after downing a bottle of wine. Which was strange to her because she barely drank unless it was a special occasion. She began to open another before pausing.
Where were you? You never would have let her drink that much. Maybe you were upstairs in the bedroom.
Yeah.
So she made her way upstairs, albeit wobbly. She wondered what worried look you’d have on your face this time. Or maybe you’d be disappointed. Or maybe you were asleep, she’d just curl up next to you if you were.
She opened the door to your shared bedroom and turned the light on. Her brows furrowed in confusion because you weren’t there. The bed looked untouched; wrinkle free and made up. So she called Jisoo, who picked up two rings later.
“Hey,” she began, and Jisoo picked up the slurring in her voice. “Are you drinking?” Jisoo’s voice sounded pitiful, small— not like she would sound normally.
“Correction, was drinking. But do you know where (Y/n) is? She’s not here and she’s not picking up her phone,” she let her words linger for a bit before feeling the need to add, “I miss her.”
Jisoo didn’t answer so she spoke again. “Are you still there?” She heard a sigh from the other end,
“Chae…she’s gone.”
“What do you mean? What are you talking about?” She tried to laugh it off, but it was hard because Jisoo sounded serious.
“She died today, in a car crash. Don’t you remember?”
“This isn’t funny Jisoo. I know she’s out with Jennie or Lis—” She broke off. It was like something she’s been repressing— something she was trying to forget, came back; to bite her in the ass and say,
Wake up.
Her hands began to tremble and as she brought them to her mouth, she noticed her lips doing the same. Hot tears shed down her cheeks,
“Mrs. Park, you need to calm down!”
“No, I won’t! You’re lying you’re lying you’re lying,” her head shook rapidly with every word. She had backed herself into a corner of the white room, the smell of antiseptics with undertones of the artificial fragrance contained in the soaps and cleaning supplies filled her nose bitterly. The smell of a hospital.
Her members, well one of them: Jisoo, tried to get her to calm down. The other two were on their knees crying.
“Why do you insist on telling me my wife is dead? She’s not! She’s laying right there, she’s sleeping, she’s just—” She knows better.
Her breaths were ragged and her eyes burned from the coming of tears.
“Chaeyoung, please. We need you to calm down. It hurts me seeing you like this— you have to be strong for those two.”
She pressed herself more into the wall, wishing it would open up and hide her. The walls felt like they were closing in on her. “Don’t tell me what to do—I don’t want to listen, not right now. I need space, please. I need—” Her breathing started to pick up.
Jisoo tried again, softer, “Chaeng…”
“No!” She shouted. She so desperately needed space.
Chaeyoung’s breathing was getting worse and she was hysterically waving her hands around as she made rapid movements. Jisoo’s eyes widened upon seeing Chaeyoung suddenly cover her chest with her hands, clawing at where her heart was.
“(Y/n)’s gone! (Y/n)’s gone! She’s gone! But she promised! She promised me she would forever be with me! She promised, but she left me!”
Her breathing was irregular and she was struggling to breath, clawing at her chest and throat as she struggled to stay afloat. She was spiraling. She was panicking.
You were gone.
Jisoo immediately stepped forward and grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands away from her throat. Lisa and Jennie watched with heavy hearts seeing her like this. It felt like they were losing her too.
“Chaeyoung, listen to me. She may be gone but—”
“No! No! No! No! No! You're lying! You’re lying! She’s not—” Chaeyoung’s voice was filled with pain and tears were streaming down her cheeks as she stared at Jisoo, violently trying to pull her wrists out of Jisoo��s grip. “Let go! Let go! I need— I need space— I can’t breathe, please—” She felt a pinch in her neck, and then she fell limp in Jisoo’s arms. Her pleads became quiet before they came to a stop, and her eyes slipped closed. The doctor had put her to sleep; while Jisoo was trying to calm her down, the doctor had snuck up with a syringe.
“Jisoo,” she whispered, having remembered. Chaeyoung began to sob and she could hear Jisoo sniffling on the other end.
“You're going to hurt for a long time, us too. But we’ll always be there for you, okay? Let us know if you need anything, we’ll come over in a heartbeat.”
“Thanks. I love you guys.” And then the call ended.
Chaeyoung flopped back on the bed. She felt everything and nothing. She was in pain, but numb at the same time.
What was she going to tell her kids? Probably the cliche, ‘your mom went on a trip and won’t be back for a long time, but you’ll see her again’. If she didn’t stick with that, she had at least a week to figure it out since her kids were with relatives.
Chaeyoung didn't sleep that night, because the only thing she saw when she closed her eyes, was you in pain.
The next day started with a bunch of phone calls from family and friends saying how sorry they are. Then it was your funeral, she hated how fast it came. It felt rushed to her. They even let her hold your hand; it was cold. You looked peaceful, but would you still be, knowing she was living like this?
As she watched your casket lower into the ground and heard her kids crying next to her, it was like a message, cruel and unchangeable: this was reality.
Wake up.
(A piece of her got lost that day.)
But despite deep down knowing you were gone— that part of herself she buried, she’ll live in denial— she acts as though you were still here. Still here with her.
The doctor says it’s a coping mechanism…
Everyday, when she cooks, she makes an extra plate. Most of the time it’s your favorite dishes. She places it where you usually sit.
Pathetic.
She eats. Silverware clinking against the plate but she refuses to look up. Refuses to see, to accept that you're not there. That you're not in your chair, eating with her.
The pinks came over with her kids one day and saw her do this when she cooked for everyone. Your daughter asked who the extra plate was for and got silence in return. That’s when they realized it was for you. The atmosphere quickly became, well, gloomy. Chaeyoung pretended to be oblivious to it but Jisoo had enough.
“Dammit Chaeng,” Jisoo said under her breath, getting up abruptly and grabbing her hand, “where are we going?” Chaeng asked as they walked to the car.
“To see a doctor.”
The doctor says it’s a coping mechanism.
Chaeyoung had stopped doing that, she didn’t like making the girls worry about her like that. She turned to more…normal things.
She would talk like she was talking to you. Not in public, but in private settings. She'll tell you how she’s doing, how her day went, how she’s feeling. She sits in her bed, a photo of you in her hand. She hoped you were able to listen.
Unbeknownst to her, you always did.
She starts with a simple, “I miss you.” Then,
"Lisa and Jennie are just as bad, but Jisoo…I know she’s hurting more than all of us. She's hiding the pain, trying to be strong for us." she starts up again, turning herself sideways and tucking her legs in close to her chest, her head rests against the pillows, "and your family…telling them what happened was terrible. I feel terrible because I can't give them more closure."
Chaeyoung starts to sniffle. "But I'm barely hanging on, (Y/n)."
"I don't feel like eating or doing anything….it’s awful,” she sets the picture in her lap and covers her face, allowing her head to push back against the pillows. Her muffled cries bleed out into the night, echoing among the quiet.
"I've barely gotten out of bed or left the house these past few days. I thought things would get a little easier after your funeral, but it's only been harder, and I’d like to say having Hank back is helping me, but I’m not sure anymore. It’s like he knows you're gone too." Her voice is laced with unprocessed grief.
You can only watch. Unbeknownst to her you sit next to her, your hand barely touching hers. If you moved it anymore, it might go through her. She couldn’t see, feel, or hear you.
“Is there anything I can do? I don’t care what the price is, I just want to feel her.” You were close to crying yourself as you asked your Guide.
Your Guide, Jessica, a worker in the afterlife field is trying to help your soul pass on to the other side happily. But you can’t be happy knowing what Chaeyoung and your family and friends are going through.
“Well, first of all there’s no ‘price’ you need to pay, this isn’t one of those things. I can only do so much, but I think, if I get permission from the higher-ups I can make you…unghost-like for a limited period of time.”
“Please. I’d like that.”
“It’s gonna take some time though, I’m unable to do it right now,” her voice echoed, “that’s fine,” you replied.
Chaeyoung, having drained herself, lay on her side curled up. You wrapped your arms around her. She cried herself to sleep, like she did every night. You felt every sniffle and shake of her body. It was a cycle, her crying herself to sleep only to feel worse in the morning.
Jessica gets in touch with you again the next day in the late afternoon. You watch as Chaeyoung makes dinner for herself.
“I got permission. But you only have twelve hours, that’s all I could get out of them. That’s half a day.”
“That’s more than enough, thank you so much.” She hums.
“You have three minutes till you're alive again, so I’d think of a game plan or you might just scare her to death. Oh, and it hurts a little, the process. Make the most of your time, good luck.”
You hid in a closet, having it cracked open so you could see Chaeyoung still. Then after three minutes you felt a buzzing pain throughout your whole body, similar to being pricked by needles, and then it stopped. You touched the wall to check, and your hand didn’t go through, it was solid.
You stumbled a bit apon moving your leg. You have to get used to your body weight now. This alerted the white and golden brown bundle of fur laying in his dog bed. His ears immediately perked up and he strutted to the closet door. He starts to bark at it and you hold your breath in fear.
Hank, go lay down.
Chaeyoung drops another piece of beef in the pan before telling Hank to quiet down. She reached for a bowl and opened the rice cooker.
Hank tries to pry the closet door open and now you think he can smell you. His claws scratch at the door and you really don’t want Chaeyoung to come over here and open the closet. So you open it a little more, allowing Hank to wiggle in. Much to your horror, he barks. You scoop him up in your arms trying to shush him.
In a span of 15 seconds, just about everything that could possibly go wrong, goes wrong.
Hank continues to bark, his tail wagging incredibly fast, hits the lightweight closet door. Pushing it open. He doesn't heed Chaeyoung’s command for him to quiet down this time. You put him down just as Chaeyoung turns around to see what's going on.
She locks eyes with you, and in an instant she's on the floor.
You panic and mutter a curse before plopping Hank back down and running to her. He follows you obviously, happy as ever.
You waste no time in carrying her over to the couch. You rush back to the sink and wet a rag before returning to her side, brushing some hair out of her face.
“Oh, baby,” you pat at her forehead and neck, “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
It takes about a minute for her to gain consciousness again, but when she does she jumps away from you and is on the floor again. Thankfully, conscious this time.
She’s shaking and her eyes are wide like saucers. “This is a dream,” she repeats like a mantra before slapping her face and pinching any available skin on her arms. That didn’t wake her up. This “dream” if it is that, is only proving to make her sadder.
“You….how?” Her gaze trails all over you, like she’s trying to burn you in her memory. How was it possible you're standing in front of her and she’s not dreaming?
“It’s a long story, but I have time to tell you.”
She nods, “okay. okay.” she allows you to take her hand and you sit on the couch.
“I’ll start at the beginning.”
You told her how after you died in the hospital bed you became, in your terms, a spirit or ghost-like. You explained to her how you met Jessica,
You could only watch as Chaeyoung broke down. It was like you were watching yourself in third-person. You cried along with them, wondering why you're stuck here.
Your hands were see through, plasma like. And you felt light as a feather. You’d probably try and see if you could float it you weren’t so heartbroken.
You heard footsteps, thinking another doctor was going to come in the room, but it was instead people in suits, with the same ghostly aura as you. From there you met your Guide. You were asked to choose who you’d like to visit, because you were an unhappy soul. You chose your wife.
You told Chaeyoung, who has now moved into your arms, that you’ve been listening to her. Sending her signs, little things to make her day a little better. And by the end of your talk she was reduced to tears. You kissed her forehead,
“I’m allowed twelve hours with you. And then I’m assuming I’m going to pass on after that.”
“I don’t want to be…selfish, but only twelve? Though, I’m happy you’re here.” She sniffles.
“Yes. Right now is all about you, it’s your call. Did you want to finish eating?”
She began to shake her head. She doesn’t wanna waste time. You stopped her.
“Love, you need to eat. Ramen noodles and takeout aren't the best things to eat everyday. I’m here to make sure you take care of yourself, after all.”
She sat in the kitchen eating while watching you play with Hank. It makes her heart ache, knowing this really is the last time, but it aches in a good way.
She finishes eating rather fast and is quick to put her arms around you again. You were warm. She’ll miss holding you the most.
“Why don’t we go to the bedroom, hm?” You suggest. Though Chaeyoung refuses to let go of you, so you two waddle up the stairs and into the bedroom, her back hugging you the whole way. Hank follows.
You plop down on the bed, holding your arms out for her. She dives into your embrace, “Movie?” she mumbles. You turn on a show that you were binge watching together. Hank curls up at the end of the bed.
It’s two episodes later, with you massaging Chaeyoung’s scalp, when you notice she’s falling asleep. She tries to fight it, occasionally moving around or asking you things, but it's not very effective. Everything is catching up to her, and you massaging her scalp makes her more tired.
“Chae, want to take a nap? You're tired.” She shakes her head and you know it’s her not wanting to waste the time you have left.
“I’ll wake you up, promise. I want you to sleep for at least four hours. I’ll be here the whole time.” She agrees, reluctantly. She moves so that now her head rests on your chest and she lays on top of you. Then she fell asleep, free of tossing and turning.
True to your word, you woke her up in four hours. Your version of waking her up goes like; butterfly kisses all over her face. Her tired and swollen features are returning to normal.
She wakes up with a smile; relieved because you're still here and nostalgic because you really did always wake her up like this. She rolls to the side, and you face her.
Barely-dormant tears now brim again, threatening to spill at any second. "You’d still be here right now if I never went out. You’d still—" She starts, blaming herself.
"Stop. Don't think like that," you soothe, wiping her tears away. "We have no idea what would've happened if I did or didn’t, and getting caught up on the what-ifs isn't going to solve anything. Just know that none of what happened is your fault."
"You have to let go of all this pain," you whisper softly, letting your eyes track all over her face. You'll never get tired of seeing her. She’s beautiful, "and I'm not asking you to forget about me or be okay with what happened, but I need you to accept it and start moving forward."
“That’s easier said than done,” she snarks, instantly regretting it when you tense up.
"All this grief you feel," you continue, "is love that has no place to go. Please don't waste it on this; use it to make all kinds of happy memories. Live every second you've got left to the fullest and tell me about all of it when we meet again."
Some tears fall from your eyes now as well, and you're a bit shocked because you didn't expect to have that ability anymore. Chaeyoung wipes them with her palms before holding your face in her hands. You melt into her touch; you’ll miss her embrace more than anything.
"I have no idea how I'm going to do this without you, (Y/n), but I'll try, okay? I'll do all the things we wanted to with the kids and probably cry the whole time. I’ll live on days and see things that’ll remind me of us and wonder if you’d think the same. I'll do it because I love you, not because I think it'll be easy." She finishes and you smile at her.
“About six hours.” You inform and she nods. Her eyes drop to your lips before meeting your eyes again shyly. She wants nothing more than to kiss you again.
"Will...will you kiss me?" It sounds silly saying it out loud. The question itself sounds ridiculous and even she finds it stupid. You're her wife for god’s sake!
You lean down until your noses are brushing and she feels your lips press against hers. It’s soft, warm. So very delicate. And that’s the thing with your kisses: They’re always so gentle, but they also hold a lot of passion and love. They make her melt.
As soon as you part from her lips Chaeyoung is pulling you back in, kissing you deeper. Her hands roamed. She needs to imprint you this moment in her mind, to remember every feeling and sensation, and pushes away the reality of your impending departure. And she does so as if it’s her last.
One last time.
A/N: 4500+ words! Lorddd
#fanfic#blackpink#fem reader#biscuitblinkeu#blackpink x reader#chaeyoung x fem!reader#chaeyoung x femreader#rosé x fem!reader#rosé x reader#biscuitrequest
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Whumptober Prompt Fills Part 8: Underestimated
~Also on AO3~
No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.” | Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”
No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.” | Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
Warning: mention of injury
Central character(s): Four, Wind
Four winced as he shifted position and a twinge of pain went through his arm. He'd hidden the wound after the last battle because others were worse off and in more need of healing than him, but he was starting to think his attempts to clean and bandage it hadn't been enough; the pain had been getting worse and when he had snuck away before dinner that evening to check it he'd noticed it was swollen and an angry red color. He laid a hand carefully over the bandages that were hidden under his sleeve. He knew he should talk to someone; it had been a couple of days and while they were still out of potions and would be until they could get to the next town, Hyrule might be able to help.
"Hey, Four, are you OK?"
Four startled; Wind had crept up beside him without him even noticing, and given how little effort the young sailor made to move quietly that was a bad sign.
"Yes, I'm fine," he said, quickly moving his hand.
Wind stepped into his field of view, mouth twisted in that odd squiggly frown of his. Four looked away. He had been younger than Wind when he went on his first adventure and in the couple of weeks Wind had been with them he'd proved himself a worthy addition to the group, but there was still something uncomfortable about seeing someone so young among their number.
"No you're not," said Wind, interrupting his thoughts. "You've been rubbing your arm and not letting anyone near it since that last battle and you look like you've not been sleeping even though you have. Everyone's noticed."
Four scowled at the ground, wondering if one of the others had suggested Wind come and talk to him while they were off scouting and hunting. He didn't need to be mothered. Even though he was about the same age as Hyrule, he often got the sense that the traveler was one of the adults while he himself was one of the children. He didn't mind being short - even shorter than Wind - but he did mind feeling like the others thought he was a child.
The annoyance, tiredness, and knowledge that Wind was right made him snappish. "I'm fine; just leave me alone!" Impulsively, he added, "And you can tell the same to whoever sent you to check on me."
Wind scowled. "You think I'm a dumb kid who's just here because the grown-ups said so, huh? Well, I'm not as stupid as you think I am. I can see things for myself same as anyone else."
"I don't need looking after. I'm short, not a kid."
"I'm not treating you like a kid, I'm treating you like an idiot!" snapped Wind. "You're obviously hurt and sick and you won't tell anyone."
Four took a breath for an angry response, but then caught himself.
Calm down. This is going way too far.
You're going to need to work with him in future.
You've been in his shoes.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, calming himself and ordering his thoughts more carefully.
"I'm sorry, Wind," he said. "You're right."
He opened his eyes and saw that Wind was staring at him. The direct gaze was uncomfortable and he looked at the fire.
"I'm tired, my arm hurts, and… I'm sure you understand what it's like to be mothered all the time."
Wind snorted. "Not all the time."
"Still; you don't like being treated like a helpless kid, right?"
"Right."
"Well, nor do I. So I got annoyed, and I'm sorry."
Wind was silent and Four glanced at him. He was still staring at him, but then he looked down, kicking at the ground with another squiggly frown.
Another flash of impulsiveness and Four said, "Doesn't that hurt your face?"
As soon as the words were out he winced, but to his surprise Wind laughed briefly and came to sit down next to him, on the side with his good arm, to his relief.
"Nope." After a moment, he grudgingly said, "I'm sorry I called you an idiot."
Four nodded. "My arm is hurt, but it's not too bad; other people were hurt worse."
"You mean Sky and Time, right? But we've done everything we can for them and if you keep hiding that arm it's going to get worse."
Four nodded again. "I know." He sighed. "All right. When Hyrule gets back I'll ask him to take a look. Happy?" He raised an eyebrow at Wind, who nodded, a worried look in his eyes that made him look even younger. Four thawed a bit inside and reached out to pat his shoulder, meeting his eye as the discomfort faded.
Wind smiled back, but then looked back at the fire. "Nobody told me to come and talk to you. I can think for myself."
"I know, I'm sorry. But I can manage my own injuries when I need to; I've been on my share of adventures."
"Me too." Wind tossed a twig into the fire, but then looked at Four with another small smile. "Want to hear about one?"
Four smiled back. He was tired and the conversation had been more draining than it should have been, so the opportunity to just hear a story was a tempting one. "All right."
#whumptober2023#no.13#infection#no.19#I'm not as stupid as you think I am#linked universe#fic#injury tw#my fanfic#linked universe whump#lu four#lu wind
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Questionable Conduct, ch 2
Chapter 1
AO3 Link
Rating: E, explicit, minors fuck off
Warnings: Jedi/trooper, (therefore) power dynamics, first times, casual sex, breast/nipple play, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), cumming untouched, penetration, PiV, creampie
Notes: Fem reader, second person perspective, present tense
6917 words
(I know I said I’d post this three or four days ago, but 1- I wound up cutting a huge chunk out and then rewriting it twice, and 2- I’m helping my mom recover from a major surgery so she took precedence. I don’t often hype my own work, but this is good. And it better be for almost 7k words! DOGMA FUCKERS COME GET YALL JUICE)
F! Jedi reader/ Dogma
Dogma takes his turn with you, and despite a few speed bumps, the night ends perfectly.
“Tell me what to do,” Dogma says, an equally eager and hungry look in his eyes.
You look at him through your lashes and bite your lip, then prop yourself up on your elbows, moving your face inches from his. He closes the gap and your mouths clash. You snake your arms under his, hook your hands over his shoulders from behind, and pull him with you as you lie back down. Your tongues meet and the needy groan that comes from him fills your mouth. Your hips buck upward against his and he grinds down against you. This happens a few more times before you finally break apart.
“Okay,” you say, panting. “I’m nearly naked, what do you think comes next?”
Cautiously, Dogma hooks his thumbs into the elastic of your panties and starts to pull them off, but stops himself, looking between his hands and your face.
“Sorry. I-is this okay?” he asks, clearly nervous again. You stretch your neck and softly peck his cheek, smiling at him.
“I’m glad you asked,” you say. He starts to move his hands away from you, but you gently grip his wrists, holding them in place. “Do you think I’m okay with this?” you ask, taking on that patient tone again.
“Yes, I-I think so,” he says.
“But?” you prompt.
“But, um, I need to hear it from you directly first, right?” he says, his eyes searching yours.
“That’s right. You should always make sure, good job,” you say, and he makes a small but pleased sound after hearing your praise. “Ask me again,” you say, relaxing back to where you were moments ago.
“Are you okay with this?” he asks, lightly dragging his thumbs along the elastic again and sounding a little more sure of himself. You let his wrists go.
“Yes, I am,” you say before kissing him deeply, your hands coming up to hold either side of his head.
With your explicit permission granted, and still kissing you, he slides your panties downward off of your hips and over your knees before you kick them off. Now completely bare beneath him, you break the kiss and sit up against the headboard of your bed. He shifts back, watching you carefully and breathing heavily. You throw the sheets to the side and open your legs, leaving your wet cunt on full display for him, which is exactly what you wanted.
Dogma's eyes travel down your body, and when he sees your hot sex at last, his jaw drops. Maker, he’s so cute, you think, and can’t help but giggle.
“Do they all look like yours?” he asks, absolutely entranced. You explain that most human women have the same parts and structures, though they will all vary to some degree and feel different from person to person. You even go so far as to hold your labia open and point each part out, naming them. You save your clit for last to emphasize its importance, telling him about sensitivity and nerve endings.
All the while, Dogma is listening with rapt attention, as if going over a briefing before an important mission. You feel a sudden surge of affection for him when you realize how seriously he’s taking this. He meets your eyes for a brief moment before he shyly turns his head away. You softly say his name and ask if he’s alright.
“Yeah, sorry,” he says, looking at you again.
“What are you thinking?” you ask.
“Just wondering how I got this lucky,” he says. The expression of unguarded admiration you see on his face is unusual to you; you’ve never had a partner look at you like that before. Realizing this, you feel a fluttering sensation in your chest which startles you. That’s new.
Dogma looks like he’s going to say something else, but you lean forward and cut him off with a heated kiss. He breaks away first, breathing heavily.
“What was that for?” he asks, confused.
“Do I need a reason?” you ask in response. He regards you for a moment, then shrugs. He then scoots himself between your legs and gently pulls you toward him by the shoulders. He kisses you, but this one is different from the others before; it’s softer. Somehow, this seems much more intimate, and you feel the flutter in your chest again as it happens. He shifts himself and presses his forehead into yours, breathing you in.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice a soft murmur. “I really can’t put into words how much I appreciate this.”
Your heart races as you sense a wave of emotion from him, strong enough to make you physically shiver.
“You don’t have to tell me,” you say, matching his low volume. He sits back and studies your face, looking mildly confused. You take his hand and rest it upon your inner thigh. “Show me,” you whisper, settling his hand gently between your legs.
Dogma swallows loudly and looks at you like he can’t believe you’re real.
“Really? But, I don’t know-,” he says.
You interrupt when you lean forward and kiss him, mirroring his softness.
“Just do what feels right. I’ll stop you if I need to, okay?” you say.
“A-are you sure?” he asks, nervous.
“Please, Dogma,” you say, unknowingly fulfilling his earlier fantasy of you.
He realizes this and groans, turning his hand around to cup your heat. When he feels how wet you are, he breathes in sharply and his eyes widen. He mutters something under his breath, and you giggle before kissing him deeply. When you break apart, you lean forward enough to speak softly into his ear.
“That’s right baby. You did that to me,” you say, your voice husky. He curses under his breath and subtly moves his hand, the heel of his palm grazing your clit and making you gasp. He obviously notices so he does this a few more times, drawing higher breaths out of you with each pass. He slides his index finger along your slit, carefully exploring you. You shift your hips, opening yourself up further for him and making his finger slip against the entrance of your hot cunt. His breath hitches, and he tears his gaze away from his hand to your face, meeting your eyes.
“Can I-?” he whispers, freezing himself until you speak.
“Yes. Touch me,” you say, and he groans, then uses his free hand to hold the back of your head, crushing his lips against yours with a deep moan, the sound making your hips jerk forward.
As this happens, Dogma slips a finger inside you, and it’s your turn to moan. With this encouragement, he starts to slide around inside you, mapping your body out even further.
He’s clumsy, and you make a mental note to bring up keeping his nails short and filed afterward, but right now that doesn’t matter. With each soft gasp and twitch of your body, you can see him growing more comfortable and confident in what he’s doing, and his enthusiasm makes up for his inexperience. He twists his wrist and presses up into a specific spongy area, and you suddenly break away from him.
“Oh fuck,” you pant.
“Shit,” he says, freezing. “You okay?” he asks, and you feel the concern coming off of him.
“Y-yes, I’m fine,” you say, gasping. You grip his jaw, kiss him hard and say “do that again, and don’t stop.”
Dogma does as he’s told and when you cry out in pleasure he can’t help the low groan that escapes his throat.
Emboldened by the sounds you’re making for him, he slips his finger out, then adds another and thrusts them both in and out of you, being sure to focus on that soft spot. After about a minute of this, he angles his wrist again, sliding the heel of his palm against your clit for the second time, and you whimper.
“Good Maker baby, just like that, don’t stop,” you gasp, grinding yourself down onto his hand as a shiver of arousal creeps up your spine.
True to form, he obeys, and seconds later you feel your orgasm wash over you like a strong tide, making you cry out as you clamp yourself around his deft fingers. In an effort to stop you from getting too loud, he holds you tightly and kisses you, swallowing up all your moans and gasps to keep for himself. It doesn’t take long for you to quiet down, and he takes this as a sign to stop. He carefully slips his fingers out of you while you cling to him like a lifeline, gasping.
After a moment, your body relaxes and you slump down into a heap on your back, trying to fight dizziness as you catch your breath. Dogma lies over you, caging you beneath him with his forearms on either side of your head a second time, watching you carefully.
“That was good then?” he asks softly, and he’s so earnest that you can’t help but grin at him.
“Very good, honey, yes,” you say, sitting up enough to softly kiss him.
He smiles confidently at you for the first time ever, and it transforms him entirely; you almost don’t recognize him. His face is relaxed out of his usual neutral frown, and his typically narrowed eyes are opened wider, at ease. At this moment, he’s not thinking or worrying about anything, and he looks like a man without the weight of a war on his shoulders. You realize his guard is completely down, and that he’s trusting you with this vulnerability.
You feel the flutter again, slightly stronger, and barely hold back another shiver. In the furthest recesses of the back of your mind, a small voice that sounds too much like your Masters tells you that this could be a problem later.
Then I’ll deal with it later, you think, stubbornly ignoring the voice.
Dogma drags the finger that was just inside your pussy along your bottom lip. You don’t think he realizes this, so you decide to surprise him. You open your mouth, sliding your tongue over his still-wet fingers and sucking them clean, all the while never breaking eye contact. His jaw drops and he groans your name as you keep this up. Once you’re satisfied, you take him by the shoulders and pull him down even with you, kissing him deeply.
The moment your tongues meet, and Dogma gets that small taste of you, he pulls away from you and curses.
“Dank ferrik,” he pants, and you can tell he’s trying his best to not take you here and now. “You taste amazing, can I get more?”
You bite your lip and nod enthusiastically at him. He thanks you with another soulful kiss, and you spread your legs again for him. He shifts backward, but when he glances between your soaked cunt and your face, you notice the hesitation in his eyes. After a moment passes and he doesn’t move, you sit up and gesture for him to come closer to your upper half again, which he does.
“Talk to me honey. What’s holding you back?” you ask, taking on that patient tone as you softly cup his cheek. He relaxes into your touch, and after appearing to debate with himself, he eventually speaks.
“I- I want to, so badly, but I’m worried I’ll screw up,” he says.
“It’s alright baby, I know this is still new territory for you,” you say, understanding, before you softly kiss him.
“Please, what should I do?” he asks, almost begging, and you feel another strong wave of affection for him.
You gently hold the back of his head and pull him even with your bare breasts. Confused but compliant, he takes your right nipple between his lips and gently sucks at it, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud the same way he had earlier. You groan at the feeling, and he notices, gradually using more pressure and nipping at your tit. You whine and your hips twitch against him. With your hand still on the back of his head, you push him downward again past your waist. When you feel his hot breath on your throbbing clit, you meet his eyes and it looks like he understands.
“Here too?” he asks, whispering.
“Be mindful of your teeth and pressure, but god, yes, just like that,” you say, dragging your nails along his scalp.
He parts his lips, but hesitates again. You gently hold his chin and lift his face to better see him.
“You don’t have to,” you say. “Remember, when you say ‘stop’, everything stops. What happens from here is entirely up to you, Dogma,” you repeat, speaking firmly but not unkindly, the way you had before all of this began. You can see the want in his eyes and sense it pulsing out of him, but you still move your hands away from him entirely, signaling that he’s free to leave.
“I…” he says, stopping to swallow loudly. “I’ll just start slowly, if that’s okay?” he says.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with honey. Take your time,” you say.
Dogma shifts forward and kisses you with that same softness from earlier. You make a pleased humming sound and press your forehead into his, then you both stay like that for a moment, eyes closed, breathing each other in. Eventually he moves, murmuring a barely-audible ‘thank you’ before slipping back downward.
As he does, you reposition yourself, widening your legs a little more and laying back, looking up at the ceiling, correctly guessing that he won’t feel as pressured as he would if you were watching him. When you feel his breath on your skin again, you reach down and take one of his hands into your own, interlacing your fingers and giving him a reassuring squeeze. He shyly squeezes you back.
There’s a tense pause. You can hear him taking a deep breath. The next thing you know, his lips are on you, and you gasp.
Just as he had earlier with his fingers, he cautiously feels around you with his tongue, carefully exploring your body. After about a minute of this, he boldly licks a wide swath upwards along your pussy, barely grazing your clit as he goes. Your grip on his hand tightens and you whine. He slides his strong tongue between your lips and circles it around your entrance, lapping up as much of your wetness as he can. He moves his tongue between flicking the tip against your clit and tracing it around your opening. You squirm in an attempt to feel more of him on you and inside you. He wraps his lips around your aching clit and hums. You react by bucking your hips upward against his mouth and he responds by using his free hand to hold you in place.
When you try to move but can’t, he chuckles and you realize that he’s teasing you.
“Oh god,” you groan, desperate for his touch. He tugs at your hand and you reposition yourself so that you can see his face. The raw need that you find in his eyes and feel pouring out of him makes you shiver yet again.
“Say my name,” he says. “Beg for me, Commander.”
“Fucking touch me again, please Dogma,” you whine, giving in and begging, fulfilling another one of his fantasies. His hips jerk forward against the mattress.
“Sith hells, I love the way my name sounds coming from your mouth,” he says, breathing heavily. “Do you have any idea how fucking long I’ve wanted this?” he says.
Before you can respond, Dogma drops back between your legs and plunges his tongue into your cunt without hesitation, and you clap your hand over your mouth to hold back a loud cry. He dips in and out of you, and the sound of him slurping at your pussy is obscene.
He switches tactics, withdrawing his tongue and replacing it with his two fingers, instead focusing his mouth onto your clit as he fucks you with his hand. With a series of quick taps to the head of your clit, you feel yourself convulse, so close to another orgasm but not quite there yet. You realize that he’s edging you and whine.
“Oh, fuck, please, I’m so fucking close,” you say between gasps for air, nearly sobbing with need.
“You going to come for me Commander?” he says, shocking you with this sudden display of confidence.
“Yes! By the Maker Dogma, I am begging you to let me come,” you say, trying unsuccessfully to grind yourself down against his face.
“That’s my good girl,” he purrs, diving back into you again. His hips twitch and he takes your clit between his teeth, without using too much pressure, and sucks at the head, passing his tongue over it at the same time.
You clamp your hand down over your mouth again, desperately trying to muffle your loud moans. You remember that he’s still holding your hand and grip him white-knuckled, rocking yourself against his face.
He suddenly hums loudly around your pulsating clit and you come so hard that you squirt for the first time in your life, soaking Dogma's face and the bed below.
He drinks it up and groans into you, the vibration pushing you into overstimulation. Your entire body locks up and you quiver around him. Your hand flies from your mouth to the back of his head, and only when you scratch your nails along the back of his neck does he let up on you.
He shifts back, and you can feel him panting against your hot skin. As a finishing move, he locks eyes with you and licks a wide path along your pussy, flicking the end of your clit with the tip of his tongue just one more time and wrenching another orgasm out of you. As he does, he frees your hand and you quickly slap both over your mouth, barely muffling a loud scream as you come for a third time that night.
Panting and sweating, Dogma sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then quickly scoots towards you and lies at your side before unconsciously imitating what you had done with him earlier: He holds you tightly to his chest, tucking your head under his chin.
“Fuck, I went too far, didn’t I?” he says, his worry over you bringing him back to his senses.
It takes you a few attempts to speak, but you’re eventually able to manage it.
“No, no you didn’t. I could have stopped you, remember?” you say, still trying to catch your breath.
“Then why didn’t you?” he asks, moving to look you in the eye.
“Easy,” you pant. “I was enjoying it too much,” you say, chuckling.
He can’t think of anything to say, so he instead softly shakes his head at you and presses his forehead into yours. As you relax, you feel yourself melting into a fucked-out puddle between him and the mattress.
The two of you stay like that long enough for your body to stop spasming and your breathing to even back out.
As you relax, you stretch your legs and feel a wet spot that you know didn’t come from you. You sit up to investigate, supporting your weight with your arm. When you see your right calf resting in a puddle of cum, you realize what happened. Dogma sits up, wondering what you're doing, then sees what you found. You glance over at him, and you don’t need to be Sensitive to feel his embarrassment. Heat erupts across his cheeks, and he hides his face behind his hands while flopping down onto his back with a loud groan. You hold back a giggle with effort and lie back down beside him.
He mumbles something you can’t fully hear. You gently take hold of his wrists and pull his hands away from his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he gets the chance, you kiss him softly. Only pulling back once you feel him relax, you shake your head at him, just once.
“S-sorry, I, um,” he says, stumbling over his words and unable to look at you. “couldn’t stop it,” he says, his voice barely reaching your ears.
“Aw, baby,” you say, carefully holding his chin and turning him to face you. “It happens sometimes,” you say, then pause to think. “If it helps, you aren’t the only one here who’s done that,” you say. The relief you sense from him is so sudden and strong you can’t help but chuckle at him.
“And before you ask, no, I’m not telling you who, you guys talk enough shit as it is,” you say, rolling your eyes.
“Besides,” you continue, softening your voice and scooting even closer to him, “I’m flattered.” You two kiss, then settle back down and relax into each other again. Neither of you know how long you stay like that.
Eventually Dogma sits back up, pulling you upright with him. He settles his arms around your waist, and you link your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer and kissing him deeply. He backs away first, and when his eyes meet yours, you Sense that same intense emotion pouring out of him that you did earlier. You feel that odd fluttering sensation in your chest, but once more ignore it in favor of relishing the peace that’s settled over you both.
“S-so,” he eventually says, nervously keeping his voice down. “Um, what happens now?” he says, shifting back from you. You scoot forward and press your forehead against his.
“You can go back to your bunk,” you say, taking on that patient, understanding tone, and he visibly deflates.
“Or,” you continue. “You can stay here and see this night through. What do you want?” you ask. He swallows loudly.
“Um,” he says, then chuckles nervously. “I mean… What else is there?” he says. You lean back and regard him for a moment.
“Well, you haven’t fucked me yet,” you say, matter of factly with a smirk, and he groans.
“Good maker,” he says, speaking at a normal volume, “do you want me to?”
“I don’t want you to,” you say, but before the disappointment completely spreads across his face, you suddenly grab him by the shoulders, yank him towards you, and kiss him deeply. It’s so long before you two come back up for air that you’re both panting.
“I need you to,” you purr into his ear. Dogma wraps his arms around you and rolls you onto your back, kissing you feverishly the entire time.
“Fuck, say it again Commander,” he growls, nipping along your collarbone as he hover over you.
You grasp the sides of his head, move his face a breath away from yours, and say his name.
“Dogma,” you say, your voice dripping with lust. “I need you to fuck me,” you say, and he groans in your ear.
Appearing to move without being conscious of it, he nudges your legs apart with his knees, grasps his hard cock by the base, and teases you by dragging the head up and down your folds, pausing to rub it against your clit. You let out a needy whine and shift your hips in an attempt to take him in.
He continues this for a few seconds, then glances up and catches your eye, freezing. You grip his shoulders and kiss him, losing count of how many times you’ve done so tonight, and when you pull away, you smile at him.
“You made sure to check,” you say, though you’re barely holding yourself back. “That’s my good boy. Go ahead.”
He whimpers at your praise and his hips twitch forward while he tightly grips yours.
He carefully lines himself up and shifts forward with his knees, pushing himself inside of you far enough to bottom out, then he takes a moment to savor the amazing new feeling of your hot, wet cunt surrounding his cock. His face is turned upward, his eyes closed. His mouth is open in a soft ‘O’ and he’s already breathing heavily. Maker, he’s perfect, you think. You move one of your hands and hold it over his on your hip, then take the other and press gently into his chest, over his pounding heart.
When he meets your eyes and you see the pure, unguarded awe on his face, you feel another strong surge of affection for him. You stretch your torso upward enough to softly peck his lips.
“Will you fuck me, Dogma?” you ask in a whisper.
He slips his hips backward, almost pulling out of you entirely, then abruptly slams himself forward, hard, and hits you so deeply that you moan. With a low growl, he nips at your throat before kissing you, pulling himself back out.
“Yes Ma’am,” he says, then snaps his hips into yours, making you both cry out.
You lie back down and rest an arm behind your head, arching your back and drawing your legs closer together, tightening your grip on him. He curses under his breath before carefully moving back and forth a few more times. He looks down at you, and you can tell he wants to really let go and take you, but he’s hesitant to do so. You prop yourself up on an elbow and gently hold the back of his head, pulling him down closer to you. As you kiss him, he bucks his hips down into you, making you whine against his mouth. You lean back and he whispers your name.
“Please,” he says. “What else should I know?”
You kiss him again and quickly tell him that it’s difficult for you to come from just penetration, and in fact a lot of women are like this. Before he asks what he can do for you, you gently take his hand off your hip and position it over where your two bodies have connected, telling him to work your clit like he had before. Once more listening carefully, his face is serious as he takes it all in.
“Yes, ma’am. Anything else?” he asks.
“Oh there’s a hell of a lot more, though we aren’t going there any time soon. But, as a final note, try to ask where they want you to cum before you do. The safest bet is outside, if they don’t make it very clear to you,” you say, and he nods.
“That’s all you’ll need for now. Like before, you just do what comes naturally, and lI’ll stop you if I need to,” you continue. He lets out a nervous exhale before pressing his forehead into yours, murmuring yet another soft thank you.
“You’ve done so well for me tonight, my good boy,” you coo, and his hips involuntarily buck forward, thrusting his cock into you and making you both gasp. You prop yourself back up and kiss him passionately. He breaks away first.
“Please, Commander, I want you so badly, can I?” he says, almost desperate.
“I want to hear you actually say it,” you tease. He swallows loudly again, then takes a deep breath.
“Commander, I… I want to,” he says before pausing, and you can tell he’s working up the nerve. “Oh my god,” he says under his breath. He clears his throat.
“I want to fuck you, I need to feel what it’s like for you to come around my cock, please,” he says, making your heart beat even faster.
“There’s my good boy. Fuck me Dogma, I’m all yours,” you say, and no sooner had the words left your lips, he crashes his own into you, and the two of you exchange a deep, soulful kiss. He interlocks his fingers with yours, and you give him another reassuring squeeze. Before continuing in earnest, he shifts between having you lie back or sit up against the headboard, trying to find a position that feels right, pausing regularly to check in with you or ask what to do.
After you suggest something, he slips out of you and sits himself up against the headboard, swapping places with you. He crosses his legs, tucking his ankles under his knees, and watches you anxiously as you also start to move into place. Keeping your legs open, you straddle his lap and grip his shoulders for stability as you oh so slowly sink yourself onto his hard cock.
When he hilts into you completely, he whines your name, and it’s music to your ears. Straddling him, you link your hands behind his neck and your chests press together. You giggle, then speak softly in his ear.
“You know something? I love the way my name sounds on your lips too,” you purr, and Dogma curses, wrapping his arms around your upper body.
He hooks his hands onto your from behind, getting a good grip on you.
After he softly says your name again, all but begging you to move, you decide to stop teasing him.
You keep your hands on his shoulders and use him as leverage to lift yourself up. Once you feel his cock head at your entrance, you smirk at him and slam yourself back down. His jaw drops and he whines. Again, slowly bending your knees and using your thighs, you lift yourself almost completely off of him, only to quickly let yourself back down.
You eventually fall into a rhythm, and despite the ache in your knees and the burning in your thighs, you hold steady; The pants and gasps and moans you’re working out of Dogma are exactly the motivation you need to keep moving.
Just as your legs start to tremble from the effort, Dogma takes the lead. He switches his hands from your shoulders to your hips, spearing himself into you as he makes you bounce on his cock. His grip is tight, and you may be bruised afterward, but you don’t care. If anything, the thought of carrying his marks on your body turns you on even more.
As he fucks upwards into you, you cling to him for dear life, panting a mix of curses and praise into his ear, encouraging him to continue. After a particularly deep thrust, you clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the loud moan that escaped from you just in time.
Slowing, but not stopping, Dogma moves to kiss you, relishing in the novel sensations of your moans in his mouth. He breaks away and speaks.
“I want you on your back,” he says.
“Then put me there,” you respond with a smirk.
With that, still fucking you and holding your hips, he unfolds his legs, moves to his knees, and lays you on your back. His hand holds the back of your head until you relax into the mattress, then he slides it down your neck and upper chest before cupping one of your breasts. He watches, seemingly mesmerized by the way they bounce in time with the thrusting of his hips. You notice this, and so you stretch your arms upward over your head as you arch your back, exaggerating their motion.
He fucks into you harder in response, then slips his hand back down, moving from your tit to the point where your bodies meet. You watch him pause briefly, as if to remember something, before he clumsily jabs his thumb against your clit.
He’s using too much pressure though, and when he sees the discomfort on your face, he takes this as a sign to stop. As he meets your eyes, he quits moving entirely, bending at the waist to bring his face closer to yours.
“That was too much,” he says softly. “I’m sorry mesh’la.”
“Hey,” you respond, cupping his cheek yet again. “At least you noticed, and before I said anything at that,” you say, dragging your thumb along his cheekbone.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, genuinely worried.
The odd flutter happens again, but you’re able to ignore it, instead entirely focusing on Dogma.
“No, baby, you didn’t. It just pinched a little,” you say. You can tell he’s about to apologize again, so you stop him from doing so by holding the other side of his face and kissing him feverishly.
“You don’t have to apologize honey, you’re still learning. I don’t expect you to be perfect from the get go, okay?” you say, assuaging his concern. He simply nods at you.
You relax again and grind your hips against his, giving him the okay to continue, but he only moves after you nod at him.
You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s now being cautious about hurting you, or if he’s finally running out of energy, but you notice that he’s more careful with you this time. The strokes of his hips are evenly measured, softer, and so much more sensual than before.
He steadily moves faster, but doesn’t resume the pace he had set before stopping. You can’t remember the last time someone was this gentle with you; it was refreshing.
As he finds his rhythm again, you drag your arms back down, bent at the elbow, even with your sides. You intend to wrap them around his back and hold him close, but he stops you by taking one of your hands into his, once more interlacing your fingers together. He uses his other hand to brush a few stray hairs out of your face, then leans further downward to kiss you again.
You hum into him, and use your free hand to hold the back of his neck and keep him at your level. You start to raise your hips to meet his thrusts, and he switches tactics, focusing on depth now, and it’s working.
You moan into him as he plunges himself further into your hot cunt, and in response, he slips his thumb back down to your clit. Watching your face, he gently rubs around it, gradually pressing against it. Your breath hitches and you curse.
“Yes baby, just like that, don’t stop,” you whine, and he continues to rub tight circles around the head while still penetrating you.
You feel a familiar tension start to develop just above your pelvis, and squeeze his hand as you gasp his name.
“Oh, fuck, Dogma, don’t stop, I’m so fucking close now,” you say, your voice high and your tone desperate. He crushes his lips against yours.
“Good,” he says, then picks up speed while still hitting you deeply, his grip on your hand growing stronger. “So am I.”
You feel the tension intensify, and once again raise your hips in time with his thrusts, this time without stopping. He groans and fucks you harder, all the while keeping his thumb moving just right around your tender clit.
“Oh, fuck,” he suddenly half-shouts.
“You gonna cum for me baby?” you ask, your voice husky, and he whimpers.
“Oh fuck yes, where-?” he pants, and you decide to break one of your rules.
“Cum inside me Dogma,” you say, looking into his eyes. “I want you to fill me up.”
No sooner had the words left your lips, his muscles locked and you could feel his cock twitching inside you, painting your walls with his seed. He stays still, panting for a moment, before continuing to fuck you, matching his previous desperate efforts. Your surprise at this is almost immediately overshadowed by the tension in your belly finally snapping.
As you come, Dogma cups the back of your head while kissing you. You pull away with a curse when your legs lock into place, quivering as your pussy milks any remaining cum out of him. He curses before pulling out.
He watches your legs relax again, and after they do, he can see his cum dripping out of you. He groans your name, and you decide to really make an impression on him. You flex your kegels and more of it flows out of you. Meanwhile, you watch his face, thinking again about how fucking cute he is.
You relax yourself completely, panting for breath. Dogma tears himself away from your leaking cunt, appears to think for a moment, then gets to his feet and goes into the refresher on shaky legs. You barely notice this, so you’re mildly startled when you suddenly feel a warm, wet rag wiping you clean. You prop yourself up on your elbows and he awkwardly sits back from you.
“Sorry, should I not-?” he says, but you notice that he doesn’t sound as anxious this time.
“I’m just surprised you thought to do that,” you admit, grunting as you move into a sitting position.
“Y-yeah, I um, overheard one of the guys say something about it a long time ago,” he says, casually dropping the soiled rag onto the floor. He grabs a thick towel you didn’t notice before and spreads it over the wet spots on the mattress, covering it up so you both won’t feel it.
You lie back down, opening your arms for him, and he eagerly joins you. You turn onto your side and slip your arms under his, holding him close. Dogma does the same, settling his arms around your waist and burying his face into your chest.
Not wanting to move again, you raise a hand and use the Force to pull the covers back up over the two of you. Dogma yawns and shifts himself, stilling when his head is roughly even with yours. You touch your foreheads together and he whispers yet another thank you. You softly shake your head at him.
“You don’t need to keep doing that, you know,” you say quietly.
“Maybe not but I want to,” he says. He’s quiet for a moment, then speaks again.
“I was being serious earlier, nobody has ever been as kind to me as you’ve been tonight,” he continues, rubbing his thumb against your skin.
“And I’m being serious now,” you say, lightly dragging your fingers along his scalp. “That’s terrible and unfair.”
“Well,” he says, “this makes up for it.” He smiles softly at you and you almost don’t recognize him again; it’s so unusual to see him with his guard down, let alone relaxed to this degree.
“Happy to help then,” you say, smiling back.
The chrono on the wall chimes, and you both turn your heads to look at it. He’s been here for almost two hours, and you both curse under your breath.
“Are you needed anywhere else?” you ask, turning back toward him.
“Not this late, no,” he says. You can see the conflict on his face, and ask what he’s thinking.
“I should go,” he says. He sits up, rests his elbows on his knees, and holds his head in his hands. You also sit up, and hold an arm around his shoulders. Your other hand gently pulls his away from his head.
“But…?” you ask, prompting him to continue.
“I,” he says, pausing to sigh. “I feel like I should stay with you.” he says, turning his head in your direction.
You smile softly at him and cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes and noticeably relaxing with a long exhale.
“Then stay,” you say. “Jesse and Hardcase know you’re here, remember? I’m sure they’ve told the others by now, they’ll cover for you.”
Dogma holds back a scoff, but you see the brief change in his expression.
“You seem so sure,” he says.
“I am sure, Dogma,” you say sternly, sitting back and crossing your arms. “Every last one of them has agreed to keep each other out of trouble when it comes to me. That’s a direct order from their Commander,” you continue.
Dogma startles you by laughing. It isn’t loud but he’s never laughed around you before.
“Good soldiers follow orders,” he says, shaking his head.
Something about that sentence unsettles you, but you brush it off.
“Alright then,” he continues. “Orders, ma’am?” he asks with a smirk. You playfully roll your eyes and jab his shoulder before falling onto your back with your arms above your head, returning to where you were a few minutes ago.
You notice him shamelessly watching the way the movement made your tits bounce and can’t help but shake them a little while you laugh at him. He realizes that he’s been caught, but instead of looking away, he smirks at you before quickly coming toward you and hovering over you on his hands and knees. He meets your eyes, and you can sense it again, whatever that strong emotion is.
Before you can ponder this any further, he surprises you by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close and rolling the two of you over so that you’re on top of him. The startled sound that comes out of you is cut off when he stretches his neck and kisses you. You hum into him, content, before reluctantly pulling away. Your eyes meet and you hold back a shiver at the adoration and gratitude you see in him. You sigh and lightly trace your finger across his facial tattoo.
“Stay with me, Dogma,” you say softly.
“Is that an order?” he asks with a smirk.
“If you want it to be,” you say.
He makes a show of thinking about it, then pulls your face even with his. He kisses you yet again, and when you break apart, he smiles widely at you.
“Yes ma’am.”
Taglist: @kaminocasey @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @arctrooper69 @the-cantina
To be added to the tag list for this series, reply to this post.
Chapter 3
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August '23 SteveTony Fics Recap
Ayo, whassup YouTube. It's ya Boy. Cars to the O-N Ian. BACK at it again with the SteveTony fanfiction. You already KNOW what's about to go down. . .
But before that, here's a word from our sponsor ➡️
Word! Now, onto the fanfics, featuring our favourite blond/brunet duo. No, not that one. The OTHER one. Yeah, that one. Let's GOOOOOO ➡️
Your Mans wrote a total of SEX fanfics this month. Your Mans wrote a total of 36942 words. Haha 69.
That is pretty crazie! And telling of your Mans emotional state. Which is to say: get a life. And another hobby. Now BACK to the video.
Fanfics (in chronolgo chronsol ciacal chrongologic edit prev out @ editor chgrasonlogical order):
"I Can See Clearly Now The Blindfold's Gone" | 3,577 Words | M | 1 Aug
"Then, without further ado, I'd like to offer my sincere congratulations to the two of you for winning the all-expenses paid date."
"What?" Steve straightens.
"Pass." Tony says at the same moment.
(A.K.A. Modern, No Powers AU where Steve and Tony go on everyone's favourite internet shitshow, "The Button".)
For the prompt fill: blind date au
If I had to rate this fic I would SMASH THAT BUTTON !!!!!
"Just Wanna Feel Your Touch (When It's Cold)" | 1,339 words | M | 16 Aug
Steve's got a press conference to deal with but he's more worried about Tony's cold hands.
Stony Bingo 2023 Round 2: "Rescue Me"
If I had to rate this fic I would rate it!
"'Cause It's You and Me (and All of the People)" | 8,945 words | T | 19 Ugh
Steve and Tony discover that they're soulmates in their senior year of high school. As they wrestle with this realisation and try to build out a genuine relationship in the backdrop of high school nonsense and college admissions stress, they're met with a ridiculous number of hurdles in the form of every friend in their circle recruiting them as "fake dates".
(A.K.A. the high school soulmates AU where they keep getting pulled into fake dating schemes for other people, told in a chatlog / texting format)
Stony Bingo 2023 Round 2: "WTF"
Just a day ago I had to go back and fix some GIFs that had disappeared. So if I had to rate this fic I wouldn't.
"We Just Keep Going" | 1,829 words | M | 23 Aug
A coda to "Here I Am & Here You Are" where Steve and Tony go and visit the Chip 'n Dale duo in New Orleans.
(A.K.A. Established relationship, banter-y nonsense.)
The only fic that isn't trying to be a FOB lyric w/ the length of its title. So, this fic, if I had to rate it I would rate as oim just a nocch in yewr bedpowst. . . but yewr juust a loine in a sowng!!!!!!
"Must Admit I'm Out of Bright" | 2,606 words | T | 25 Aug
Steve's got a handful of bullets in his abdomen and Stark's looking at him all funny.
Stony Bingo 2023 Round 2: "Pain"
If I had to rate this fic I wouldn't but I would desecRATE it and if I had to desecrate it I would desecrate it w/
youtube
Are you still here? Yeah?! 😲😲 Please like, comment and subscribe! 🙏Make sure you hit that post notifications bell so that you can type "first" in the comments! 1️⃣1️⃣1️⃣1️⃣1️⃣1️⃣1️⃣1️⃣1️⃣1️⃣1️⃣1️⃣
"The Remarkable People Initiative & The Zugzwang Dilemma" | Chapters 8 & 9 (aka the FINAL CHAPTERS. Yes this fic is DONE! FINALLY!)
Chapter 8: "Pawn to Queen, Promotion Forseen" | 5,594 words | E | 9 Aug
Chapter 9: "Rematch?" | 13,052 words (don't @ me I tried to plan this shit out and it did not WORK. planning is a SHAM. or maybe I am. either way. don't @ me!!!) | E | 31 Aug
Steve Rogers and Tony Stark first met as promising candidates of The Remarkable People Initiative when they were children.
Twenty-four years later, Tony shows up at Steve's doorstep.
(The Mysterious Benedict Society AU.)
If I had to rate this fic I would uhhh ok come on. Someone else make the bad joke this time. I can't carry this whole goddamn video.
& that's all we have for you today! Tune in next month to hear all about the myriad situations I put our favourite boiz in! There will be many situations and many ships. Perhaps even a situationship 👀 NO SPOILERS! This is, after all, an MCU ship 😜
Finally, due to mounting pressure from *reads smudged ink on hand* budgetary cuts & the economy, here's another word from our sponsor! ➡️
Word!
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20 questions for fic writers
Thank you @marypsue for tagging me!
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
732 oh gosh it needs to have text next to it to not show up giant
2. What’s your total word count?
1,316,095 aha you can tell most of my fics are short
3. What fandoms do you write for?
What I am currently preoccupied with is The Dark Crystal/The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance. The vast majority of my fics are for Rise of the Guardians, and I have one fairly substantial fic each for Thor and Venom.
4. Top 5 fics by kudos
Give You Everything, not surprised about this one, it's Eddie/Venom and I published it a little less than four months after Venom came out in theaters. 2. Single Snowflakes, this one is a surprise? It's barely over 1K, T for subject matter, Bunny/Jack where Jack talks about past trauma with Bunny. I wouldn't have written it except that this was part of my project to fill every prompt on Round 1 of the Rise of the Guardians Dreamwidth kinkmeme. I guess it resonated with people??? 3. How Old? Another Bunny/Jack fic, G-rated and very short. 4. What it Means to Ask, yet ANOTHER Bunny/Jack fic, G-rated, but about how serious the concept of being a "mate" is in Pooka culture. How Old? was also related to that. 5. Down and Dirty-a wrestling-type fight between Jack and Bunny turns into sex.
What have we learned? The Jackrabbit fans, they are legion.
5. Do you respond to comments?
For the past several years, yes, pretty much always. Back in 2012 when I was just starting to post on Ao3, I was like unto a nervous deer and sometimes didn't respond. But I did print out all the comments on Without Contraries There Is No Progression (Pitch/Sandy that got me writing big complete things) and put them on my fridge at the time. It helped me get my master's degree.
6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
The one that comes to the top of my head is Warmer Than I Thought. Jack's dying because he just didn't have enough believers when he became a Guardian. He's not going to come back with continuity of self. Pitch is there to offer him some scant comfort as he goes.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
I mostly write happy endings, honestly, but the honor of the most happy and resolved ending goes to His Time, which is chronologically the last fic in my Rise of the Guardians Apotheosis AU. It's a far-distant future, OT8, everyone is together and essentially the pantheon of a new planet they made after Earth is gone due to the expansion of the sun. They are trying to make it go well this time, and so far succeeding.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
The closest thing to hate I ever got was on my explicit Thorki fic...from a person complaining about how much I had Thor and Loki talk to each other.
9. Do you write smut?
I write a lot of explicit sex, yes.
10. Do you write crossovers?
I've written a fair number in my prompt-fill project, but it's not something I'm drawn to write.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I've never known about any of my fics being stolen.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Someone talked to me about translating one of my fics and I was very excited and I said yes. However I don't know what came of that because things happened and I fell out of communication with the potential translator. Maybe they finished it and I don't know about it!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
No, and I don't think I would, unless it was part of a strictly structured event/project.
14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?
Well, it's Pitch Black/Sandman. Conceptually, the ships I'm drawn to have ties to dichotomies of dark/light, good/evil, cosmic opposites kind of thing. Pitch and Sandy, as personifications of nightmares and dreams, were a perfect vessel for that obsession.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?
I told my friends, "I'm not going to rewrite The Phantom of the Opera." And I'm not. But there's a version of PotO that I wanted that uh, isn't what any of the big official versions gave me. So I started writing and I have 49,615 words so far. If I don't find a way to finish it I think I will end up posting it as something permanently unfinished, because there's a lot that I like in it now.
16. What are your writing strengths?
I have been told in a real graduate writing workshop that I have good dialogue. I also like to think I'm pretty good at sensory descriptions.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
The things I find extremely difficult are endings and like, plots where things happen--I want so badly to write a big complicated Space Empire story but like. How is does political intrigue? (This house is FEELINGS ONLY.)
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?
I don't think I'd ever do it.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Almost certainly Dragonball Z. If all goes well, my friend and I may have the chance to excavate some of my old notebooks during the holidays and then--it's archive time and that is a threat.
20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?
It's A Draught of Light, which I love as it is, and for proving that I could write an alternate-world epic fantasy novel as long as I didn't like, admit that's what I was doing. I do admit though that I have an edited version that takes it farther away from being fanfic that I like even better. Maybe I should, hmm, start taking steps to making that version available, if you understand what I mean.
Who do I know writing out there that hasn't been tagged yet? @queerpyracy, @purplebloodedmajesty, @incurablenecromantic
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[ID: The first image Psychonauts fanfic banner on a black-to-gray gradient background. On the left in white text it says “Prompt #4: Rescue Mission” On the right is a pink animated figment of a thought bubble, inside which is a donut with frosting and sprinkles.
The second image is a Bad Things Happen Bingo card. Various prompts are marked with a half-brain (prompt requested but not filled) or full-brain (prompt requested and finished) symbol, while the “Rescue Mission” prompt specifically is marked with a full brain symbol. /end ID]
Okay so I hate the way Tumblr crops these so I’m putting the banner above the bingo card. I hope that’s okay, @badthingshappenbingo ! (also I promise the figment in the banner makes sense for the fic)
I am currently NO LONGER OPEN FOR REQUESTS. I have enough to work on to get a bingo! I MAY decide to reopen prompts later if I want to keep going after finishing these fics, but for now, requests are closed!
This request comes from @echoing-interests! Hope you liked my take on this. \o/; Thanks to @jaywings and @of-science-and-stars for beta-reading!
Prompt: Rescue Mission
Characters: Sasha Nein, Milla Vodello, and Razputin Aquato
Warnings: None
---~~~---
Status report. Dustpan?
Listening to conversations at the water coolers, darling.
Have you gathered the intel?
No, just gossip. It's quite juicy, but I'm keeping an ear out for our target. What about you, Shoehorn?
Searching the trash bins. Sasha flipped through another folder in the file cabinet. The Gastronauts are still terrible at... recycling, so this is taking longer than expected. Eggbeater?
I'm still wondering why we have to use our code names when we're talking through telepathy.
Because the devices Egg Carton gave us to counteract the disruptive waves the Gastronauts put around their base are still experimental, and we don't know that they aren't listening in.
...Are there really devices that can listen in on psychic thoughts?
We don't know yet, darling.
Do you not recall our briefing?
I uh... Raz's mental voice faltered. I... was kinda so excited that we were infiltrating an enemy base that I... forgot to listen.
Sasha's brow furrowed, and he let out a hum. It's a good thing this isn't a more serious mission, or you would be in danger.
Sorry.
Darling, do you at least remember our goal?
Oh! Yeah, got that one. Find the blue—wait! We weren't supposed to relay that over telepathy, were we?
Correct. Can you relay your position?
Affirmative. I'm still in the air vents and looking for the office, as instructed. Over.
Let's resume. Let me know if you find anything.
With that, Sasha TK'd another stack of papers out from the filing cabinet, quickly sorting through them, his eyes darting over the dates. Annoyingly they seemed to jump from January, to March, to November, to May of last year. Either they never referenced their files or they just didn't care how disorganized they were, and he wasn't sure which was worse. Frowning, he slid the papers back into their places and moved onto the next drawer. This went on for some time—there were a grand total of ten filing cabinets in this forsaken clerk's office with four drawers each. This combined with how awful the Gastronauts' bookkeeping was certainly did not make it easy for Sasha to find what he'd been looking for.
At the very least he had a bit of time—this clerk, he'd discovered, liked to take his sweet time with his lunch break, sometimes taking longer than the time allotted. Plus, if their telepathy was intercepted, then whoever tried to investigate them would be looking in the wrong places. Typically for something like this they would've used encrypted telepathy, but Raz had yet to learn it, and the agent that usually taught it was out on a lengthy mission, so they had to fall back on simpler methods. This, at least, was something Raz had no trouble with.
Eggbeater is quite enthusiastic, isn't he? came Milla's voice over telepathy. It was a message sent to him alone, a familiar psychic whisper.
Yes, but his enthusiasm can be a bit... misplaced at times. Finding this stack only had papers from three or four years ago, he sighed and moved on. He needs to pay attention during briefings.
He'll get the hang of things soon, Shoehorn.
I'm sure you're right. Stooping down, he opened the last drawer to find it only had one folder within. He TK'd out its contents, looking them over. Eyebrows raising, he put a hand to his temple. I've only found worthless things here.
That's terrible! We'll have to move on, then, Milla replied with an excitement that did not match her coded words.
Sasha smiled, waiting for Raz's equally-enthusiastic response. As he quickly folded the paper and shoved it into his jacket, however, no reply came. Eggbeater? he asked. Please confirm you received the message announcing my failure.
Perhaps he's forgetting things again, Milla suggested.
Frowning, Sasha sent a stronger signal. Eggbeater? Respond.
His telepathy was met with the almost-physical thud of psychic energy striking against a barrier. Sucking in a breath, Sasha straightened his back. Dustpan, send a message to Eggbeater immediately.
Several heartbeats later, Milla sent an uncharacteristically quiet response: His signal was... blocked.
Change mission objectives immediately. Retreat to base.
Instead of heading for the exit, however, Sasha scanned the darkened office he'd been sneaking around in. Its owner had been out to lunch, but... He hurried up to the desk, spotted a pen, and put his hand on it before shutting his eyes.
Immediately his view was replaced with that of a half-eaten plate of french fries and ranch dressing. (Eugh.) With a subtle suggestion he made the person look up, granting him a better view of what appeared to be a cafeteria. Several other workers were milling about, chatting with each other and eating food. With a few quick uses of clairvoyance, he jumped from person to person, taking a moment to listen to their thoughts.
Ugh, that report is due tonight, gonna have to work overtime.
Can't believe they caught that listening device! That took months to plant.
Man, why are the fries always cold?
While Sasha could feel the anxiety tugging at his mind at finding no information on Raz's whereabouts, at the very least none of these people were aware that there were intruders, meaning that perhaps only a few people had found Raz. The fewer people they had to deal with, the better.
Finally he caught someone that was heading out of the room, and CV'd into her. Meanwhile an encrypted message reached him, and he quickly untangled it: Sasha, have you found anything?
He replied with an encrypted message of his own: I'm currently employing use of clairvoyance to check around the base. A note on the listening device we found in the Motherlobe, but nothing on Razputin.
I'm searching for ripples as we speak. This shouldn't take long.
Yet even now it already felt like they were taking too long. The woman whose head he'd hopped into was walking to the restroom, so he moved from her to a man that was exiting the men's room and striding down another hallway. This one only had a stack of paperwork on his mind, so he jumped from him and over into a person lingering in the doorway of an office. There was nothing of note in there other than a very tired worker holding his head in his hands while the woman in the doorway rambled about the latest football game. The man at the desk finally raised his head. "Rhonda, I know, I know we lost. Man, I can't believe I stayed up to watch that mess." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm so tired I think I'm hearing things—I swear I heard a kid in here earlier."
Sasha gave a start.
Sasha, Milla's encrypted voice came over telepathy. I've got something.
I may have as well.
"Seriously, like, did Jakob bring his kid in again?"
"Nah, we would've heard from Morter if he did."
"True..."
Quickly Sasha compelled the woman in the doorway to glance out into the hall, and from there, jumped into a different person's head through another open door. Some people here may have heard Raz's voice, he replied quickly. I may be close to where he was taken. He took a moment to listen in on the worker's thoughts, and upon finding only an extreme longing for donuts, he jumped to the next worker he could spot. What have you found?
I may have pinpointed where Raz was taken. Raz's signal is blocked entirely, but I've found a man who's very intently focused on a child, in a storage room...
Sasha's stomach dropped, his mind racing to several different conclusions, none of them positive. Perhaps a secret interrogation room, he thought frantically, compelling the man he'd jumped into to glance around the hallway. Sure enough, he spotted a storage room, but the door was shut. Frustration gnawing at his astral consciousness, he tried to send a subliminal urge to the man to grab some files that had definitely been put in that particular storage room.
What? the man thought. Where'd that come from? That one doesn't even have files in it, that's in the one on the second floor.
Gritting his teeth, Sasha sent another subtle signal: Someone left a very important file in there and it will get lost if I do not grab it.
...Oh yeah, Elliot dropped his report in there last time. Ugh.
With a sigh, the man fished in his pocket for a key before moving to open the door.
"Uh-uuhhhh hang on, occupied!" a frantic voice came from inside, followed by a lot of scrambling and clanking.
"Wha'd'you mean, 'occupied'?" the man outside asked. "You're in the device storage, Morter, not the bathroom!"
"Look I'm—I'm conducting something in here, okay?"
"Conducting... what, exactly?"
"An... interview?"
The man outside groaned. "Man, why don't you interview applicants in your office? What've you got one for if you're just—"
"R-Rhonda wouldn't shut up."
"...Ah, got it." Sighing, he shook his head. "Look, did Elliot leave his report in there?"
"I... oh. Huh, he did."
"Just hand it to me, and I'll leave you and the new guy alone, okay?"
"R-right."
Sasha readied himself, and the second the door cracked open, he jumped into the man—Morter's, apparently—head. Sure enough, once the man turned around he found himself staring at a dimly-lit room with shelves and shelves of boxes and strange devices he didn't have time to analyze.
And in the middle of the room was a metal chair, with Raz sitting on it, bound and gagged, a look of fear and worry in his eyes. The counter-device Otto had provided him with was sitting on the floor a distance off, too far away to properly block the disruptive waves around the building. He jumped into Raz's head, taking a quick read of his thoughts.
Oh no, oh no, please don't come back here, this isn't good...!
He'd seen enough.
Don’t worry, Eggbeater, we’re on our way.
Without waiting for a response, Sasha yanked his consciousness back to his own body, shutting his eyes against the dizziness it brought. He pressed a hand to his temple, fingers digging in so hard they hurt. I've found him. He's in danger.
There was silence on Milla's end for a moment. When she replied, her mental voice was cold. We've known the Gastronauts could do questionable things... but placing a child in danger...
There's no time to waste.
Nothing more needed to be said. Sasha levitated up into the ceiling vent he'd initially come out of, closing it behind himself and crawling through. He'd come to this place a number of times for routine missions, but he was less familiar with the location of the device storage. He'd seen the cafeteria before, so if he could remember where that was from his current position, and build a mental map of where he'd gone to find the door to storage...
It wasn't the first time he'd had to do something like this, yet for once he was having trouble focusing; the longer he took to do this, the more likely it was that Raz could get hurt. How he was being hurt, he wasn't sure, and not knowing only worried him more.
A hand—one that wasn't truly there—gently rested on his shoulder before squeezing it. Sasha, Milla said, and he shook his head, bringing himself back into focus. Silently he crawled through the vents, heading in a direction just west of the cafeteria. Milla, meanwhile, was disguised as a Gastronaut herself, and navigating the building below him, moving over to where she'd felt the waves. Sasha could feel the frustration bubbling on her end when an actual Gastronauts agent stopped her to ask some questions, but he moved on, heading closer and closer to the storage room.
A wailing noise, distorted through the vents, made the hair on his neck stand on end.
It was coming in the direction of the storage.
Sasha was over the vent cover in moments, and with a single psi-blast knocked it off its screws and sent it crashing to the ground. He followed seconds later, landing a bit more roughly than usual, one hand to his temple. On the opposite side of the room, Milla slammed the door open, her presence filling the doorway.
Both of them stood partially crouched, one hand to their temple... until they took in the sight before them.
Raz was still sitting on the chair, no longer gagged, while the man that Sasha had caught a glimpse of earlier was now lying on the floor, hands covering his face as he sobbed. Between them sat Raz's Psycho-Portal. Upon seeing Sasha and Milla barging into the room, Raz whipped his head around, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Oh! Hi, guys!"
Slowly Sasha and Milla straightened their backs, lowering their hands as they both stared at him.
"...Razputin. What."
Raz shrugged sheepishly. "I felt your CV earlier, but I was kinda preoccupied with helping Morter, and I was also really worried that his coworker would come in here and see us. Which, speaking of—Milla, can you shut that door?"
Blinking, Milla stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind her. "Who's... Morter?"
"ME!" the man on the floor cried, scrubbing the snot and tears from his face.
"But don't worry! We've got it all settled now. D'you mind untying me, though? I was gonna ask Morter, but..." He lowered his voice to a stage whisper, "I think he's kinda having a moment right now."
Sasha felt oddly lightheaded as he stepped up to Raz, using telekinesis to untie the ropes that bound him. "So you're not hurt?"
"I feel a little stiff now that you mention it," Raz said as he hopped down. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs. "I think I can walk it off, though."
"We... may have caused a bit of commotion," Milla remarked, glancing back toward the door. "I think we should take our leave."
"Already?" Frowning, Raz snatched up his Psycho-Portal, hurried over to Morter, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, I gotta go. Sorry I couldn't stay longer. But you're gonna stand up to Jakob from now on, right?"
Morter raised himself up onto his knees, scrubbing at his face again. "Y-yes!" he sobbed. "I will!"
"Great! Glad to hear it." Giving him a positive thump on the back, Raz stood up straight and hurried over to Sasha. "Are we heading back through the vents?"
"...Yes."
"Okay, got it. See you later, Morter!" He paused. "Please don't rat us out to your bosses, okay?"
"I-I—I won't!"
"Thanks!" Grinning, Raz hopped up onto his levitation ball and bounced up into the vent. Sasha and Milla exchanged bewildered glances before following.
Once they were out of the building and heading back to where they'd arranged for Oleander to pick them up, Milla finally spoke up: "So... can you tell us what happened in there?"
With a wince, Raz ducked his head. "Yeah, so, I kinda got caught..." Then his head shot back up, and he held up his hands. "But it's okay! 'Cuz Morter took me into that storage room—he wanted to interrogate me, I think, but I saw he was all stressed out, and I asked him about what was wrong, and he talked about how he's this office worker and this one agent keeps bullying him and dumping all this work on him and making him watch his kid at work, and... I kinda... asked if he'd like me to take a look around in here." He tapped on his head. "He was actually kinda curious about how we do that kinda stuff, so he agreed, and... I... kinda helped him sort things out from there." Raz paused, then screwed up his face. "His mental world was a daycare."
Sasha laughed, quite a bit louder than he'd intended, and Milla and Raz stared at him. "That's... quite remarkable, Razputin."
"You think so?" Raz smiled, only for his face to fall as he glanced aside. "I was... kinda worried that I wasn't doing as well on this mission, especially since I missed so much of the briefing."
Milla stooped down closer to him to give him a grin. "You did amazing, darling!"
"Awesome! Man, for a bit there I was worried we weren't gonna pull that mission off."
"Well, about that..." Frowning, Sasha pulled the paperwork he'd found out of his jacket. "I did find the new employee paperwork, but we weren't able to secure the blueprints for their newest device."
"...Oh, yeah! Almost forgot. I did get taken to device storage, so at one point while Morter's back was turned..." Glancing over his shoulder, Raz TK'd a rolled-up sheet of paper out of his backpack.
Sasha and Milla exchanged glances, both of them giving a relieved smile as they looked back down at Raz.
"You really are something, Agent Aquato."
#sasha nein#milla vodello#razputin aquato#psychonauts#bad things happen bingo#psychonauts 2#fanfic#my art#my writing#OKAY I have one more on the backlog to edit#also working on a oneshot that has nothing to do with the challenge#before I get to the next fic
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See You Again
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Angstember Prompt - ‘The most messed up thing the universe will ever do to you is letting you meet the right person at the wrong time.’
You hadn’t had long together but it was long enough to give you both a glimpse into the future, one filled with laughter and adventure, one overflowing with more love than either of you had ever experienced. The four months spent constantly at each other's side, your lives becoming so entwined, were enough for the two of you to fall hard and fast, ready for the future together that seemed to be destined for you.
It was completely by chance the two of you met. Peter had been focused on the world through his camera lens whereas your attention was on the text message you were sending. Neither of you saw the other until you crashed into each other, the drink that had been balanced in your hand as you typed was now on the floor, just how you would have been had the person you’d crashed into not caught you.
You looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as you looked into concerned and apologetic brown eyes, the most beautiful pair of eyes you may have ever seen.
“I am so sorry,” he said, eyes still looking directly into yours. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and-”
“Oh don’t be silly.” You told him, finally snapping out of whatever spell had you completely captivated by him. “It was my fault. I was in a world of my own.”
The man's laugh was as beautiful as his eyes, washing over you and as quickly as that it had become your favourite sound.
“We’re both to blame then.” He told you, his voice carrying his amusement. “Will you at least let me buy you a new drink?”
You wouldn’t usually accept the offer, much too aware of the dangers of strangers but there was something about him that made him seem like wasn’t a stranger, like he was somebody you had known before, somebody you had to know. You had no other choice but to go with him, you couldn’t deny yourself the man's company.
“I think I can manage that.” You told him and if you thought he was beautiful before then it was nothing compared to how breath taking he was when he smiled at you like this.
His whole face seemed to light up, his brown eyes shining with happiness and relief that you had said yes. Dimples appeared in his cheeks and his eyes wrinkled with how wide the smile was.
That was only the first day of your time together, the first five minutes of what both of you wished would be a lifetime together.
Once you arrived at the cafe, a walk that lasted only a few minutes but felt much longer as you both filled the silence with questions and answers, like you were both dying and learning everything you could about the other was the cure. Neither of you were ready to leave so when Peter asked if you had anywhere to be you told him no, shooting an apology text to your friend, saying you couldn’t make it as Peter got your drinks.
Three drinks and several hours passed by, not noticed by you or Peter as the two of you were so absorbed in one another, stories were told whilst smiles and laughs were memorised. Both of you made sure to remember the little details in each other's words and were more than content where you were.
At some point your chairs, which had started out on the opposite sides of the table, ended up side by side so that your knees pressed together and your arms brushed against each other.
Peter’s phone ringing was the only thing to pull you out of the little world you’d created together.
“Sorry,” Peter apologised softly, giving you a sheepish smile, “It’s my Aunt.”
You smiled as he answered the phone, feeling like you already knew Aunt May through the stories Peter had shared with you.
“Hey, hey, relax, I’m on my way ho-” Peter said, pausing mid-sentence as his Aunt interrupted him and you felt your smile widen as he gave you an exasperated look. “Yes May, I bought it before.”
The conversation didn’t last much longer and as Peter hung up, his expression shifting into a frown.
“I’m really sorry, I completely forgot we were having company and my Aunt asked me to pick some things up which I haven’t done yet and-”
“Peter,” you interrupted him with a laugh, watching as a smile replaced his frown at the sound, “It’s fine, you should probably head to the store.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, picking up his bag and setting it on his shoulder before looking back at you.
It was clear he wanted to say something from the way his mouth opened and closed several times before he shook his head and sat up straighter.
“Can I see you again?” He finally asked and you felt your smile widen which Peter took as a good sign from the way he relaxed into his seat and smiled back at you.
“I’d like that.” You told him softly, not even surprised at how much you mean it. In the span of a few hours Peter Parker had carved a space for himself in your heart.
“Good,” Peter nodded, sighing in relief. “Good, well then, I’ll just-” Peter trailed off as he pulled his phone back out and handed it to you.
Watching Peter leave left you with a strange feeling running through you. It wasn’t often you put yourself out there and made yourself available. You couldn’t remember the last date you’d been on, couldn’t remember the last time you cared to even bother but meeting Peter seemed to have changed that.
Now you were sitting here feeling hopeful for the future, a future that you couldn’t envision without Peter Parker despite only having known him for all of four hours.
It wasn’t long after your chance meeting that you and Peter saw each other again. Only a few days had gone by, days in which you were both attached to your phones messaging each other all day and well into the night. In just a few days you had gone from strangers to something more than friends, something far more intimate, something filled with promises.
Meeting every few days eventually turned into meeting every single day whether it be a quick get together before school at the cafe you had gone to when you’d first met or exploring the city with each other. Some days you’d simply go to the other's house and lay with each other as a movie played in the background, sometimes you focused on it but more often than not it got spoken over, the two of you desperate to know everything about the other.
You were practically dating without making it official, it didn’t need a title, not really. Both of you had fallen hard and fast but never defined things. So when Peter took you to the cafe that was quickly becoming yours you didn’t think anything of it. Not until Peter arrived looking worried and flustered, stumbling over his words.
“What’s going on?” You asked him.
You hadn’t seen him this nervous since you first met and he asked if he could see you again, from that day there had been no awkwardness, no nervousness or hesitancy between you. So the fact that Peter was acting so unsure now, you couldn’t help the worry that slipped into your tone.
Peter looked at you for a second, looked at the concern clear on your face and smiled, relaxing into his seat as he reached over to take your hand in his.
“I’ve had the best few weeks with you.” He told you softly, watching as a smile pulled at your lips. “I’ve never known anyone like you, I feel like we’ve known each other our whole lives, I can't see myself without you anymore. And I was wondering, well, if you would be my girlfriend?”
His short speech had you beaming in happiness, his question had you smiling impossibly wider. You felt exactly the same, it had only been a few weeks and yet you could hardly remember a time your days and thoughts hadn’t been consumed by Peter.
“Yes.” You told him, the pair of you sat in your cafe grinning at each other like idiots.
Nothing much changed once things became official between you and Peter. You still hung out every day, except now you could call your time together what it always had been: dates. You still spoke to each other through your phones when you weren’t together.
Nothing had changed.
And then it did.
Two months of absolute bliss turned into something else in the blink of an eye. Exam season had come and gone, as had the time of sending college applications off, something you and Peter had done well before meeting each other.
The schools you had applied for were realistic, they were schools you knew you had the grades for. But there was one school you applied for after encouragement from your advisor, a dream school of yours for years. You had applied knowing full well you wouldn’t be accepted.
So how had you ended up here? Sat on your sofa staring down at the acceptance letter from Oxford University offering you a full scholarship for four years. It was a dream come true and yet you could feel your heart breaking.
Four years was a long time.
Yours and Peter’s relationship wasn’t even four months long, hell it was barely two months since you’d met him. It hardly mattered that you hadn’t known each other long. You had fallen for him hard and fast.
You knew it was love, knew that it was love that consumed you when you were with Peter, when you spoke about him, when you thought about him.
You and Peter weren’t just friends, you were so much more than lovers. It seemed every part, every inch of your beings was connected in some sort of way. The way the two of you moved, the way you seemed so alike and yet somehow so opposite, the perfect mix of one another, balancing each other out like you were two halves of a whole.
You were soulmates. There wasn’t another way to describe the two of you. It was like the word had been perfectly created and defined with you two in mind.
Four years was a long time though and long distance hardly ever worked. You knew accepting Oxford meant losing Peter.
So what did you pick; a lifelong dream or the boy you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?
Peter came over that night. His usual bright smile turned into a concerned frown as he took in your eyes, red from crying over an impossible choice.
“What’s wrong?” He asked as the door shut behind him, the worry in his voice caused you to tear up again as you shook your head and led him to your bedroom. “What’s wrong?” He asked again, cupping your cheek in his palm, using his thumb to brush away a tear that fell from your eye.
“I got accepted into Oxford.” You told him and watched as a smile spread across his face.
“That’s amazing!” He told you before his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Why are you so upset?” He asked as he wiped another tear away.
“Peter, it’s a four year scholarship.” He was silent for a moment and you saw the exact moment realisation hit him, his smile fading as he swallowed hard. “I don’t have to go, I haven't decided anything yet.”
“Y/N,” Peter breathed out, staring at you in amazement even as he wore a sad smile. “You’re not rejecting Oxford, not for me.”
“I only applied on a fluke, I didn’t think they’d accept me, I forgot I even applied most of the time because I didn’t want to get my hopes up thinking I was good enough for Oxford.” You said, the words falling from your lips quickly and you forced back more tears.
Peter let out a wet chuckle.
“Of course you’re good enough, baby.” He told you, tone so soft and sincere that you couldn’t stop the choked sob that escaped you. “You’re amazing, they would have been stupid to not want you.”
“I don’t want to leave you.” You whispered and watched as his eyes widened in sympathy.
“Y/N,” Peter began but you cut him off with a shake of your head.
“I really don’t have to go.” You said, hating that the universe handed you the man of your dreams only to throw this at you.
“The first day I met you, you told me at our cafe your biggest dream was to study at Oxford. I saw the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about it. You have to go, baby.” Peter’s words had tears falling uncontrollably down your cheeks.
“Peter,” You pleaded, voice breaking.
“I know,” he told you, tears falling down his own cheeks, “trust me, I know but I’m not going to be the reason you don’t go, Y/N/N. This has been your dream for so much longer than you’ve known me and I am so proud of you.” Peter told you, a shaky smile on his face as he rested your foreheads together.
You couldn’t say just how long the two of you stood there for, pressed against each other as you cried, mourning all the time that should have been between the two of you.
Every moment spent with each other from that day on seemed to be filled with an air of sadness, no matter how much both of you tried to ignore it. Sadness at knowing your time together would soon come to an end.
When the day finally came Peter insisted on seeing you off. You said your goodbyes to your family at home before climbing into a cab with Peter, your hands clenched together desperately like it could keep you here.
The ride was over much too quickly and you felt sick to your stomach as the airport came into view.
Peter lifted your bags out of the trunk and wheeled them into the building, whilst still holding your hand tightly in his. Once you got to the point Peter couldn’t go past you took a shaky breath, turning to face him to see he was already looking at you.
Those beautiful brown eyes were darker now than they had been the day you had first met, gone was the warmth and the light. Now they were filled with sadness and pain. You were certain yours reflected the same.
“I really am so proud of you.” He told you, his voice sounding choked and you could see him struggling to hold back tears. “Oxford better know how lucky they are to have you.”
You let out a tearful laugh that sounded more like a sob.
It seemed cruel, it seemed like the most messed up thing you had ever experienced. The universe, in all its greatness, had given you the most amazing gift in the form of Peter Parker. It had given you the most perfect four months together, the most hopeful glimpse into what your futures could be, only to let it end like this.
You wished you had met him at a different point in your life. Years earlier so you didn’t apply to Oxford or four years later when you were back in the States. It seemed so cruel to have met the love of your life only to be ripped away from him for four long years.
You knew it was love and you didn’t care that it was probably too soon. You couldn’t say those three words now though, it would only add to the pain of leaving.
“I’m really going to miss you.” You told him as tears fell from your eyes.
“I’m calling you every day, texting too. Honestly you’ll be sick of me.” He told you, smiling even as his eyes shone with tears. “You’re not getting rid of me.”
You hoped he was right but four years was a long time, it was almost a lifetime given how much both of you would change. Still you hoped the universe would be kind to the two of you.
An announcement playing over the loud speaker had Peter’s smile fading slightly.
“That’s you.” He said quietly and you nodded, neither of you able to say anything else.
You stepped close to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and buried your face into his chest, soaking the fabric of his shirt with your tears. Peter’s own tears fell into your hair, unable to fight them back any longer as he held onto you tightly for as long as he could, committing the feeling of you against him to memory.
Letting go of you was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do.
He leaned down, not ready to let you walk away yet, and kissed you. It was a messy kiss, filled with tears and sadness but also with so much love. The words didn’t need saying, both of you knew.
“I’ll see you again. I’ll be waiting right here the second you get back.” Peter promised, your sad sob of a laugh told him you didn’t believe him and he swore to himself he would keep that promise, no matter what.
He was yours, forever, no amount of distance or time could change that.
Watching you walk away had Peter’s heart physically aching. He stood there with tears falling down his cheeks until you disappeared from view, and a little longer because he couldn’t see through his tears.
You had to fight the urge to sob, walking away from Peter felt wrong, it felt like the worst decision you could have made. You cursed the universe for letting you fall in love with him only to separate you after much too little time together.
You hoped Peter was right, hoped he would be waiting for you when you got back. In your heart you knew you and Peter were meant to be, that much was true but now just wasn’t the right time no matter how much both of you wished differently.
Days were spent thinking about what could have been after you left, missing touches that should have been, moments that could have created a lifetime of memories, of stories that people grew tired of hearing but neither of you bored of telling. There were four years of your lives that should have been spent together but because the timing hadn’t been right that time had instead been filled with pining, with sadness but also with hope that you would find your way back to each other one day.
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Andrew’s Peter Parker Taglist -
@haroldpotterson, @imjustassaneasyou, @dindjarinsspouse, @rottenstyx, @asherhunterx, @powerpuffluuvv, @filmsbyblair, @mrs-scottmccall, @roseslovedreams, @janesofia7, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29, @wierdstark, @runawaywithmyghost, @chaoticevilbakugo, @ppgrayson, @onyourgoddamnleft, @divanca2006, @90sbella, @siriuslyfearless, @mystic-writings, @levisbloodcut, @mrs-brekker15, @alexxavicry, @sweetdreamsjg, @alwaysclassyeagle, @peterpgrace, @vx-vexedvixen, @ordinarylokix, @carmellasworld, @ellabellabus07, @battinsonn, @labellapeaky, @lokismidnight, @maeve-7, @caediae, @benhardyslut, @apolysius, @jasontoddthezombie, @instabull, @qfton, @honkroselyn, @inflatabledinosaurs19, @lazysheepperfection, @theodorenottswhore, @parkershoco, @gal-obsessed-with-marvel, @father-violet, @rosesinmars, @mystic-writings, @mmaiamore, @izzyyy-1, @mmaiamore, @lizamango, @beaconings, @urbestgrrl, @randomwriter1021, @lazysheepperfection, @lucyysthings , @morganaah, @sylvies4ever, @taylordidsomthingbad, @kaitieskidmore1, @lucyysthings , @hydeonysus, @freeshavocadoooo, @writeroutoftime, @loki-laufeysons-wife, @srhxpci, @jelliebeanss, @mrslizzyolsen, @kosmic-klouds,
@idli-dosa, @allthingsmarvellove, @inas-thing, @xxchaotic, @lovelyvante, @standarizedpumpkins, @ukai-hoe, @bxmaaa, @lucyysthings , @cwritesforfun, @siriusstwelveyears, @daisyfreshwhore, @myguiltypleasures21, @luluwinchester, @polyglot-noodle, @alexxavicry, @mukbee, @bubsonnobx , @heyitsaloy, @eddiefrickenmunson, @f-sant, @fairydxll, @valluvsu, @sjprongs
#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#peter parker imagines#spiderman x reader#spiderman imagine#spiderman imagines#andrew garfield peter parker x reader#andrew garfield spiderman imagine#the amazing spiderman x you#the amazing spiderman x reader#the amazing spiderman imagines#the amazing spiderman imagine#the amazing spiderman#peter parker#spiderman
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the train <3
hello! welcome to my first fic ever for nijiEN! this is based of a prompt, “kyo & ren meet for the first time when kyo falls asleep on ren during a train ride.” i really hope you guys enjoy! ⭐️
pair : ren zotto x kyo kaneko !
cw : none !! enjoy fluff !
it’s always the unexpected meetings you have that leave such a meaningful impression. this is something that ren truly always believed.
though he wasn’t too particular about taking the train this time of night, he knew he didn’t exactly have a choice. he was meant to be meeting up with uki. a long time friend who lived a bit of a distance from him. for uki, he would travel at any time of night. it didn’t matter. if uki needed ren, ren would be there.
much to his suprise, upon boarding the train ren was immediately shocked to find it so full. who the hell needed a train four cities over at 3 am? it kinda baffled him. luckily for ren he found a spot near the very back no one had sat in, mostly because it was blocked off with a no sitting sign which he carelessly discarded and sat down anyways.
most of his ride was good. mostly just him listening to his music, adjusting his hoodie as to not show his horns every five seconds. then it happened. around 5:30 am a boy plopped down next to him. clearly exhausted, loudly catching his breath. at this point in time ren panicked, quickly pretending to be asleep for his own sake.
then he heard the boy speak, “yes aster i’m fine-yes-yes aster i’m on the train and i’m fine you can go to bed!” he whisper yelled before the train went quiet again. if ren was honest, the voice that came from the boy sounded nothing how he looked. this made him smile internally.
around 6 am is when he felt it. a bit of pressure on his arm. pulling his gaze away from the sunrise, ren looked down the his arm to find the source. there it was. the smaller blue haired boy, passed out slump against his arm. with a small smile he looked around. noticing it was just them left he pulled the hoodie off himself and draped it over the other.
and that’s how they stayed until ren had no choice but to wake the boy up. gently tapping him he heard a few noises, a little sleepy groan, and then finally blue eyes were looking back into his. “wha-“ suddenly filled with realization the boy practically flung himself off of ren and completely back into his normal seat, not before throwing rens hoodie back at him of course.
“good morning?” ren laughed, smile wide and bright. “i’m not sure where you’re headed small one but this is the final stop and we need to get off.” he smiled gathering his things like it was nothing. “small one!?” a voice immediately called, “well you didn’t exactly tell me your name before you used me as a bed.” ren was quick to fire back.
silence.
a whole minute of silence before he spoke again.
“kyo. just call me kyo. anything is better than that nickname.” he sighed gathering his own things. after both boys got off the train they faced eachother, one clearly looking more happy than the other.
“so, where are you headed kyo?” ren asked as if he didn’t meet this person less than two minutes ago. “wouldn’t you like to know weather boy.” kyo sighed softly before realizing that may have come off too rude, “my friends..” he sighed again after a moment. “me as well.” ren smiled before extending a hand,
“it was lovely meeting you kyo. my name is ren.”
before kyo could even answer there was a loud voice calling both their names,
“so you’ve met!! how lovely!”
you’ve done it again….uki violeta.
I MAY HONESTLY EXPAND ON THIS TEEHEE !!
#nijisanji#nijisanji en#ren zotto#kyo kaneko#uki violeta#ren x kyo#kyo x ren#ren fluff#kyo fluff#nijisanji iluna#iluna#iluna x reader#⭐️.iluna
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I think I sent you a prompt about Abe, Lemny and Joel talking and Joel being the butt of the convo. But maybe I just didn't see your post 🙈😅 (or my phone is lagging 😅)
(Hi! If you don't see your prompt filled, it means I just didn't do it. Oftentimes it's just because an idea doesn't readily come to me, so it marinates in the askbox until I get an idea. And sometimes it's a day later, or a week later, and sadly sometimes it's never.)
(Let me see what I can do)
Catskills Vignette #9
"Ah, the lawyers had me on the phone for a fucking hour today trying to get some language right," Lenny grouses as he takes a drag off his cigarette.
It's a cool night, and he and Abe are relaxing on the porch of the Bungalow. Midge and Rose have taken the kids to watch a magic show (Susie got Alfie the gig here at Steiner's), so it's given them some time for a quiet after-dinner chat. Lenny with his cigarettes and Abe with his pipe.
"They'll get it all figured out," Abe assures him. "They'll charge you a limb to do it, but they will."
Lenny chuckles and shakes his head. "Thank god money hasn't been an issue. The writing gigs have been paying the bills quite readily these days."
"It helps when you're good at it," Abe tells him. "Some of the guys at the Voice get a little touchy when you step in with guest column. They don't appreciate being shown up."
"Fuck 'em," Lenny smirks.
"Hey, Abe. Lenny."
They both turn their heads at once, catching sight of Joel standing at the stairs of the front porch.
"Joel," Abe nods.
Lenny gives a curt nod as he takes another drag off his cigarette. "Get bored of the magic show?"
"It wasn't really my thing," Joel tells him. "What are you two up to?"
"Crochet circle," Lenny says.
Abe chuckles. "We were just talking about Lenny's appeal process."
"Right, the appeal," Joel nods. "Sounds uh...sounds stressful."
"Sure," Lenny shrugs. "Though I guess some people get off on it or whatever."
"Please do not say 'get off on it,'" Abe groans.
Lenny chortles a little. "Sorry, Abe. I forget the whole almost-father-in-law thing."
"Is that still actually happening?" Joel asks. "I mean you and Midge have been engaged for what? Almost a year now?"
"There isn't any rush," Abe says evenly. "Once the appeal goes through they'll get around to it."
"What if it doesn't?" Joel asks. "You gonna just...never get married?"
Lenny widens his eyes playfully. "The world may never know."
"No, really, you just gonna leave her hanging in limbo?" Joel asks. "That ain't right."
"No one is in limbo, Joel," Lenny says. "If the appeal doesn't go through, I'll do my four months in the workhouse and when I get out we'll get married. After that experience I'll likely be more than eager to be the perfect house husband."
Joel turns to Abe. "I still can't believe you're willing to let Midge get hitched to a criminal."
Abe sighs heavily and takes a puff off of his pipe. "Joel, do you know why I never really liked you?"
"Because you thought I was an idiot with annoying parents who wasn't good enough for your daughter?"
"Yes, but aside from all of that," Abe says.
"Why?" Joel snaps.
"You lack the conviction of your beliefs," Abe tells him. "Lenny isn't some petty thief-"
"I am, but - never mind."
"He's not a murderer. He's not some maniac."
"There are people who would beg to differ," Lenny cuts in and is ignored.
"If he serves his time it will be because he spoke his mind in a public forum, which is actually a right that is - should be - protected," Abe explains. "Is his humor vulgar and a little terrible? Yes."
"Thank you," Lenny nods.
"But the idea that he will go to jail for daring to make good points about uncomfortable things is not his failing," Abe says. "It's our society's failing."
The three men stay in the silence of that point for a long moment.
"And unlike you," Abe goes on quietly. "Lenny is secure in how much he loves my daughter. And you never were. But you can't bear to let her go, either. You lack the conviction."
Abe and Joel stare each other down while Lenny looks up at the sky, taking a long drag off of his cigarette.
"I'm gonna go," Joel says quickly.
Abe nods. "Goodnight, Joel."
Lenny nods too. "See ya."
As he rushes off, Abe turns back to Lenny. "What kind of language did they need cleared up?"
"The meaning of the word 'guilty' in regards to my case."
"Oy vey."
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For the autumn fic meme can you do number 7? (maybe Newt trying to be brave and failing miserably? >:3)
7. scary movies
from autumn fic prompts here
WHEW i've had an exhausting few weeks but things are finally calming down and i can devote time back to my beloved little dudes again. i have a longer fic i'm working on for spooky season but it's also HALLOWEEN PROMPT FILL SEASON once more!! here's an old old one I never got around to filling
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"I am not," Hermann says, "as easy as you seem to think I am."
Newt's not sure what's more disconcerting here: hearing someone outside of, like, 1950 refer to themselves as easy, or Hermann apparently worrying that Newt might apply that word to him, in the lust-inspiring glory of his sweatervest, baggy wool slacks, stiff collar, daintily crossed ankles, the twelve inches he's left between them, and the full-body shudder of displeasure he gives whenever Newt makes the mistake of looking in his direction. And worrying about it so bad he had to reach over and pause the movie to make sure Newt had his full attention before making the declaration. Yeah, easy, that's sooo Hermann. He wouldn't even take off his shoes before he got on Newt's bed, because it would've been quote-unquote too intimate. What a harlot.
"I literally have no idea what you're talking about," Newt says. "Am I missing some, like, signals? Is this some sort of Gottlieb mating ritual?" The only thing Hermann has done all night is snap at Newt for burning their popcorn in the microwave (among a host of other offenses, ranging from breathing too loudly to keeping the brightness on his computer too high). Newt thinks he would've noticed if Hermann was suddenly fluttering his eyelashes or taking off his shirt or something. Actually, if Hermann considers picking fights easy behavior, then Newt suddenly has a whole lot of their relationship to reassess here. As in, all of it. Maybe arguing is part of the complex intricacies of Gottliebian mating rituals, the rest of which involve unstylish haircuts and submitting HR complaints. Newt should pay closer attention to these sorts of things.
"No," Hermann snaps. "I am referring to your invitation, which was clearly a pitiful attempt to seduce me, and my subsequent acceptance thereof, which was against my best judgement and that I began to regret almost immediately." He folds his arms across his chest and scowls at Newt. It's not as intimidating as he clearly hopes it'll be, because there's a decent amount of burnt popcorn crumbs clinging to the front of his sweater, and his glasses are crooked.
"I'm not trying to do anything but watch a movie, dude," Newt says.
"Oh, yes, for now," Hermann says. "But soon enough you'll be so terribly frightened that you'll need to turn to me for comfort, and then one thing will lead to another, and then—" He shakes his head darkly. "I can assure you now that will not be happening, despite any efforts to the contrary. Feign your fear all you wish."
That's the problem with trying to be anything but a mortal enemy to Hermann—the guy's always gotta act like Newt has some sort of dark, mysterious, ulterior motive going on. Cups of tea always have to be deliberately brewed too bitterly with too much milk (instead of just, y'know, the shop Newt went to messed up his order), invitations for excursions into the city or late night talks on the Shatterdome roof are trying too hard to make up for whatever Newt's crime against him of the week is. Hermann can never just accept kindnesses from Newt at face value. Technically, Newt supposes he did have a slight ulterior motive in inviting Hermann over for spooky movie night tonight that verged beyond selflessly giving Hermann a social life into self-serving, but he's been literally upfront about it from the start. And it has nothing to do with getting a hand under Hermann's four layers, thank you. "I want to watch this new movie," he said earlier in the lab, while Hermann eyed him suspiciously, "but it's supposed to be scary as shit, so I don't want to do it alone." If it gives him nightmares, then at least he'll have someone to commiserate with.
Newt's not sure whether he prefers Hermann to see him as a big baby or a skeezeball. Big baby is worse, maybe—at least the alternative means Hermann thinks he's, like, at least mildly suave and a mega-pro at seducing grumpy mathematicians. But it all also raises a very important question. "If you knew I was gonna try to seduce you, then why did you come over?" Hermann was being pretty quiet about everything, up to and including when Newt told him to make himself at home on his bed, until now.
Hermann coughs, and mumbles out something about not having anything better to do with his time, then something else about Newt having wily machinations. "Let's finish the damned movie," he says.
Though Newt's chosen to let Hermann believe he's speeding down the skeezeball route tonight, that doesn't actually change the fact that Newt is, at heart, kind of a big baby—but also only when it comes to sooome horror movies, because he's usually really awesome and punk about these things, and you don't cover yourself in tattoos if you don't have a high tolerance for discomfort, and Newt was watching monster movies before he had object permanence. Unfortunately Newt is not currently covering himself in tattoos or dealing with his dad's admittedly questionable age-appropriate media decisions, but rather curled up in a sweatshirt and watching an evil spooky ghost slash through teenagers like nothing on his laptop with Hermann. The reviews weren't wrong about the realistic special effects. Newt makes a small noise that's definitely not a groan and turns his face away, just a little bit. "I don't understand why you enjoy subjecting yourself to rubbish like this," Hermann says. He's wrinkling his nose. Newt thinks the fiery power of Hermann's disdain could stop the homicidal movie ghost right in its tracks, which strangely makes him feel a little better. "We could be watching an infinite number of other much better films."
"Great idea," Newt says. "K-science movie night, every Friday. You can make the popcorn and choose the flick next time, I'll order pizza." Pizza sounds great right now. He should have dragged Hermann out into the city for pizza night and drinks at the worst bar he could find and made him eat something for dinner with nutritional value for a change (well, okay, in terms of comparison to the scalding tea and toast he usually has for dinner, a pizza is like a damn salad bar), not lured him into his messy bunk for a scary movie night neither of them are actually feeling. Maybe it's not too late to change their plans. There are probably still a few 24/7 delivery stragglers out there in a city this big that haven't yet succumbed to being stomped on by kaiju. "Is that guy still getting chainsawed?"
"No," Hermann says. He looks up at Newt's laptop screen quickly—he'd been distracted, picking crumbs off his sweater—and corrects himself, only just audible over the whirring of the ghost's chainsaw. Not a very creative weapon of choice for a slasher. Chainsaws are kinda been there done that, Newt thinks. "Er. Yes. This has been a rather prolonged death scene."
"Yeah, dude, no shit," Newt says. He tucks his head in against Hermann's shoulder, because it's not like Hermann can possibly think any less of him right now, and he's relieved when Hermann acquiesces to the touch and doesn't boot him across the room. Hermann's sweater smells kinda weird, like he left it out in the rain and didn't bother washing it after it dried. It's still soothing to be this close to him. Ugh, not that Newt would ever, ever admit that out loud, how embarrassing.
"I told you your charms are not going to work on me, Newton," Hermann sniffs, even as he gives Newt's shoulder a pat, and then something, bewilderingly enough, that Newt might call a reassuring squeeze. He doesn't move his hand afterwards. "No matter how pathetic you look right now."
"Thanks? Um, I think?"
Something particularly gnarly must happen on screen, because Hermann suddenly winces and drops their popcorn bowl, sending the remainder of it (mostly vaguely salty kernels) scattering across the floor. He reaches out and angles Newt's laptop screen down, just a centimeter from being shut entirely. A slasher-chainsawing-ghost victim screams their heart out through the muffled speakers. Hermann closes the laptop the rest of the way. "I think we ought to pick something else," he says.
"Sounds great," Newt says.
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