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vampiricgf · 2 days

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☆ FAVORITE GIRL

ᝰ you think he's just another frat boy with meaningless flirty words for the person he sits next to in a boring class (he's down horrendous)

frat boy satoru x f!reader, college au, somewhat established relationship you guys are classmates, sfw no smut, alcohol consumption, cigarette smoking, just lots of him being an idiot with a massive huge earth shattering crush <3

"And how's my favorite girl?"

"Worse, thought you'd skip this class again and we'd have some peace." You roll your eyes as you slide the straps of your backpack over the back of your chair.

Satoru Gojo, nuance Sig Ep and unfortunately glued to your side since the first day of statistics for reasons unknown to you. You'd made an effort to avoid members of greek life on campus, not wanting to get involved in party culture or whatever new dramatics were unfolding with its subgroups. That only seemed to encourage him though, casually throwing his arm around you through the duration of lectures and begging in that whining tone of his for you to come by the house.

You never did, you also pointedly ignored most of his text messages and actively regretted ever having to give him your phone number after the one assignment you'd been paired up for. Outside the occasional drunk text where he'd plead for you to show up, which did make you feel both bad for ignoring him and a little high off the attention. Not that you'd ever admit to clicking your phone lock and grinning to yourself in bed on those nights.

"C'mon, I'm the highlight of your day!" He shoots you that signature megawatt smile and you stick out your tongue at him, scooting your chair in the opposite direction and creating a wide gap as you sit down.

You see him frown and for a half second it looks genuine, making a pang of guilt reverberate through you so you scoot back to where you were and he resumes pestering you with some latest escapade in the Eps house as you both wait for the stream of students to peter off and the lecture to begin.

"Hey so, why you been ignoring my texts?" He pulls a pout and god you wish it wasn't actually cute.

"You send me weird combinations of emojis Gojo, what can I say to that?"

"It's Satoru," he quips almost immediately, barely allowing you to finish.

"Alright, Satoru, it's because you send me weirdo shit. Say hi every once in a while and maybe I'll say it back." You shrug, opening your laptop and preparing yourself to block out his incessant whispering for the next hour while you take down notes.

"You actually came!"

The sheer volume in the cramped, would-be living room of the house made you wince in tandem with his shout as Satoru threw an arm around you.

"I'm just humoring you so you stop bugging me!" You shout back, accepting a cup of god knows what from his hands and already formulating a plan of when it would be polite to bow out for the night without a barrage of where'd you go texts.

He doesn't answer you, too busy immediately yelling at some other guy over the volume of the music but you don't miss the way his hand slides down your back to settle at the lower curve, just above your ass. It makes you smile a little, despite your own misgivings about the scene you're in.

But quickly it becomes too much, being jostled by a permanently sweaty and horny crowd in such a cramped space, and you find yourself drifting outside to a patio sparsely populated with only a handful of smokers. The alcohol buzzing inside your brain makes you crave one, a thick, acrid stream of smoke spreading like thick flower petals blossoming inside your lungs.

One girl catches your eye and slowly you meander over to where she's perched, away from the rest on a railing that's seen one too many coats of poor paint jobs.

"Could I bum one off you?"

"You got a dollar?"

Lamely you pat your hips, absentmindedly searching for one until she lets out a soft laugh and extends the pack in her hand out to you. Marlboro lights, the gold top of it shimmers faintly in the dim light as you slide one out and accept the lighter she passes you.

"I tell myself lights mean I'm working on quitting. What a load of shit." She huffs out a laugh to herself as you flick the lighter and it gives a few sparky coughs before the flame catches, burning the tip of the cigarette into a solid ember cherry.

"I'm Ieiri," she says cordially as you hand back the deep purple lighter.

You give her your name before taking a deep drag of the cigarette, enjoying the feeling of it settling in your chest.

"They should invent a kind of cigarette that doesn't kill you." You say absentmindedly and she cracks a smile.

"Too bad the "healthy " cigarettes of ye old days had asbestos in them."

That makes you laugh, enjoying the way it flows into the air with the breeze that plays against your skin, like a lover running fingers over it and giving you gooseflesh.

"Wait, you're the girl Satorus got statistics with right? Tuesdays and Thursdays?" She asks between puffs, flicking ash off into the dark.

"Yeah, the very same. I figured I should finally take him up on the offer to come over, I've blown him off so many times." Saying out loud makes you feel a little like an ass, he may get on your nerves but he's never been anything but sweet to you.

"You know he's like, obsessed with you, right?" She says with another laugh and it makes you raise a brow.

"Oh yeah?"

She shakes her head, another drag before continuing. "Oh yeah. Gets too drunk every weekend and cries in the bathroom because you didn't show, has a crisis every day because he doesn't know what to say to you in texts. I've never seen him excited about a math course before this semester either, usually it's any excuse to cut class until a prof bitches at him."

With every word a strange sense of giddiness grows in tandem with the alcohol drenching your brain, and you can't help but think about those devastating blue eyes. The opposite of rose colored glasses but it fits, a shade of comfortable blue that tints the world because of him and suddenly you're gripped by the urgent need to go back inside and find him.

"Hey, thanks for the cigarette but I'm gonna go find him. See you inside?" You crush the butt out with the toe of your shoe, grinding it down and giving Ieiri a wave goodbye as the wall of thumping bass and neon light swallows you back up.

It strikes you as incredible how a house can turn into a labyrinth when filled to the brim with bodies and only offering the occasional flash of strobe or neon lights to guide you in the dark. After when feels like hours and checking nearly every room you come across for Satoru, without luck, you find Ierie once again leaning against a closed door with a particularly bored expression.

"Satoru she wasn't saying she was leaving she said she was coming to find you, dummy. Open the door."

As you sidled up beside her she shot you a conspiratorial glance before pulling you closer so you could hear her over the din.

"Can you tell him you're right here? He's such a whiny drunk." She rolls her eyes but you can tell it's playful, although you get the feeling this has happened more than once.

Hesitantly you put your palm against the door, feeling the distant bass thrumming through the wood. "Hey Satoru? I didn't leave, I'm right out here with Ierie!"

There's silence on the other side, making you frown in concern until the door is suddenly wrenched open and you nearly fall right against him. Despite clearly being drunk his hands come to grasp your upper arms gently to steady you before yanking you inside the hazy dark of what you assume was his bedroom.

"You're welcome!" You hear Shoko yell through the door as he sits down in a huff, still holding onto you, against a well worn futon.

You can't help but giggle at the way he almost curls around you, as if determined to attach to your side like some sort of sucker fish. With a bit of wiggling you manage to pull back, sweeping a few stray strands of hair from those baby blues as you do.

It's in that moment, when your fingertips brush his skin, that everything seems to pause. The noise outside seemingly vanishes, and it's like only the two of you exist in a comfortable bubble of silence. You never really noticed how his eyes looked almost crystalline before, too pretty to exist.

"Who gave you eyes like that?" You murmur, more to yourself but nevertheless he beams down at you.

"So you do like me, huh?"

The way he says it, so boyish, so... happy. You can't help but smile back, a shy thing that barely tugs at the corners of your lips.

"Duh, of course I do."

That makes him frown a bit, brows knitting in thought and somehow it made him look even cuter. No fair.

"Then how come you never showed up before? And you don't text me back?" A little pout forms on his lips as he finishes and you're struck with the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

With a superhuman effort you keep yourself focused on answering him. "You're, well... All this," you gesture broadly with your hands as you pull away slightly. "And I'm just a girl you have stats with. I thought maybe you were just yanking me around, being flirty in class but that's it, you know? I didn't wanna look stupid getting my hopes up."

"A girl I have stats with? You're joking, right? You're everything." He says incredulously, eyes wide as if more shocked than insulted that you could've looked at the situation that way.

Heat rushes beneath your skin at that, you're everything, and you know it's not the alcohol making you lightheaded. In your silence he continues.

"Y'know I'm not just messing around with you, I think about you all the time. Sometimes you're all I think about all day-"

With a surge of confidence you grab him by the front of his shirt, pulling him down and cutting him off with your lips pressed against his. It grips you like a fever, a crushing need to taste him. It's all sloppy teeth and tongues and spit but it feels perfectly serendipitous at the same time, an otherworldly calm that takes hold of your mind as your lips move against one another.

As you open your eyes into his you can't help the grin that now stretches wide across your mouth, giggling as you press kiss after kiss against his lips, his cheeks, his forehead and soon enough he's dissolved into a puddle of giggles and faux pouts in your arms.

"Will you tell me I'm your favorite girl again?"

"I'll tell you that forever."

#txt ☆ˎˊ˗#jjk #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #satoru fluff #satoru x female reader

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oneforthemunny · 20 hours

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Can you do more mafia!eddie and if it’s not asking to much pregnant!reader??

ofc! here's a little blurb <3 slight smut at the end. pregnant!reader x mafia!eddie so some mafia type themes but nothing graphic. mainly fulff!

Eddie huffed, a ringed hand grabbing at his curls, buzzing with adrenaline filled nerves. His voice was beginning to shake from the tightness in his throat with every shout of your name, echoing off the walls without a response.

Panicked thoughts flashed through his mind at rapid speed, sickening what-ifs and other horrific scenarios conspired by his own mind. The damning thoughts overpowered the rational, jumping to every possible worst case scenario about what could have happened to you, to the baby, the dogs that were no where to be found as well.

Eddie was ready to give up, ready to call Gareth, command a search, a war if he had to. Frantic steps towards the phone, his hands shook when he picked up the phone, Eddie was halfway through jamming Gareth's number in when he heard a bark.

Muffled, but loud and defilingly crisp enough to know it was Diablo's. Letting the phone fall, Eddie jogged towards the back door, pulling it open with such a force the hinges groaned. His free hand on his hip, pulling his gun out, flicking the safety off in a fluid motion that was muscle memory at this point.

His eyes scanned the garden, over the pool, towards the spacious back yard, lowering his gun at the sight. The boys running around, yanking and tugging their toy, running beside you to give you their toy for you to run while you walked- marched, was more like it. Arms pumping, heavy, purposeful steps up and down the length of the backyard, not slowing to toss the toy for them to fetch.

Eddie pressed his lips together, shoving the gun back in his holster. "Baby," Eddie called, trying to keep his voice light, a coo. You were sensitive these days, the slightest quip in his tone had you in tears.

You turned, continuing your walk up the grass, knees high with every step, nearly touching your swollen stomach. You were ready to pop, baby Bea due any day now- past due, really. There were talks of a C-Section, of inducing labor if she didn't come on her own.

"Baby," He tried again, walking to meet you. The sun was starting to set, but the heat hadn't eased up.

"What're you doing, sweetheart?" Eddie's voice was still tight, a forced coo to try and mask his heart that was still climbing back to a normal beat.

Vecna jumped up, letting you grab the rope toy, tossing it and sending them all running after it. "Walking." You huffed, a little out of breath from the pace. It was harder now, with a giant baby bump in your way.

Eddie swallowed a groan, taking a deep breath before jogging besides you. "Did you not hear me yelling? I was looking for you. I didn't know you went outside-"

"-I can't stay inside all day, every day, Eddie." You snapped defensively, continuing your stride, trying to ignore the burning in your back and calves. "I needed some fresh air."

Eddie bit back a huffy comment that your doctor told you to take it easy, knowing it would not be received well. Instead, he grabbed the toy from Lucifer when he brought it, flinging it far this time, trying to keep up with you in his Armani shoes.

"I know, I just couldn't find you." Eddie said, a hand reaching out to your lower back out of near instinct. "I just got worried when I couldn't find you."

You seemed to like that answer, eyes flashing and gleaming sweetly at him. A mood swing, there had never been a truer word, Eddie decided.

"I was just out here, baby." You cooed, slowing your pace, chest heaving a little, winded.

"I see that." Eddie looked at you carefully. "What are you doing? It's a little hot. Do you have a water?" He turned scanning for a cup, a water bottle, anything.

"I read that walking can get your water to break." You were nearly shuffling, eyes closed, letting your heart beat settle. You paused, looking down between your feet for anything, any sign that it had broken. "I don't think it worked." You frowned.

"She'll come when she's ready, honey." Eddie cooed, rubbing a hand on your back gently, guiding you towards the patio, desperate to get you to sit down. "You don't need to overwork yourself. It'll happen when it does."

"I'm not overworking myself." You snap, huffing with an eye roll that had Eddie flinching. Still, you let him guide you to the small patio table, settling into the cushioned chair.

"I just want her to come already." You muttered, running a hand over your swollen bump. "It feels like it's taking forever. Like she's never going to get out."

"She'll come when she's ready." Eddie snatched the water bottle of the stairs, putting it in front of you.

"She'll be here soon, sweetheart. Just don't-don't stress about it." Eddie hesitated, watching you carefully.

Your lips twitch in a snarl before bringing the bottle to your lips. Him telling you not to stress when that was quite literally all he had done felt hypocritical, but you decided against telling him that, right now, anyways.

"Maybe I should try the workout tape again." You hummed, spinning the water bottle around on the table lightly. "Or maybe you should just fuck me like the doctor said." You said bluntly.

Eddie blushed, lips twitching in a grin at your boldness. "That is not what he said."

"He said penetration." You glared at Eddie.

"He also said it could hurt you." Eddie countered. "That you're-you're softening down there or whatever-"

You rolled your eyes, scoffing loudly. "I mean, you can't fuck me mean, but you could be gentle and it would be fine." You glared at him for a moment. "But you won't because you think I'm disgusting right now."

"I do not-"

"-Clearly you do." You huffed, lip wobbling, a burning forming in your chest and throat with tears. "You won't even fuck me when the doctor is telling you to."

Eddie fought an eye roll, standing to pull you into him. Your head buried into his midsection, sniffly and furious, but allowing his affectionate touch. Another swing.

"I do not think you're hideous. I have never, not once in my life thought you were hideous, so I don't want to hear you say that anymore." Eddie's tone clipped with authority, your thighs pressing together at the sound. You'd missed it, missed him talking like this.

"I don't want to hurt you-"

"-You won't-"

"-I don't want to." Eddie lifted his voice over yours, pulling back, a hand cupping your chin to bring your gaze to him. "So you have to let me know if it's hurting you. Anything."

Damn those pregnancy books. Of course he'd read them cover to cover, front to back, taking in every bit of information he could. It was endearing, really, until times like this when he handled you like you were glass.

"I will." You nodded, holding his gaze with yours. "I promise."

Eddie relented. Of course he did. Truthfully, he'd been in agony for the past few weeks, willing himself not to fuck you in fear of hurting you and the baby. The oral was good, great even, but just not as good as the real thing.

So Eddie willed himself still, hands gripping your hips, trying to support you while fighting the blinding urge to slam you on his length, when you sunk down on his cock at a painfully slow pace.

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pepsiboyy · 1 day

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HEALING HEARTS.

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: where chris has been distant and loses his temper. warnings: angstttt (resolved), use of y/n, cursing a/n: felt angsty yayyy love you guys <3

"chris, you can't keep shutting me out like this!" i shouted, my fists balled up as i stood in front of him.

for the last three weeks, chris has given me little to no response when i would ask him questions, ask how his game is going, or even if i asked what's been bothering him.

chris let out an agitated sigh as he peeled off his headset and spun in his gaming chair, turning to me with an irritated expression. "i'm not shutting you out, y/n, i just need space sometimes."

"space?" i questioned, my voice raising a bit as i spoke. "you've been distance for weeks now, i feel like i'm walking on eggshells around you." i stated firmly, my arms coming up to cross tightly.

chris let out an angry groan as he stood up form his chair. "here you fuckin' go, with your yappin' and shit."

"yapping!?" i brought a hand to my chest, genuinely shocked at his tone.

"maybe if you gave me some space to breathe, we wouldn't be in this argument." he stated, having taken a few steps towards me.

"i just want to understand what's going on with you, chris. we're supposed to be a team here." i stated softly, my head clenching.

chris turned his head to the side as he reciprocated the arm cross, his bangs covering his eyes. "doesn't feel like a team when all you do is question me. and everything i do. i mean come on."

i felt tears begin to well up in my eyes as i stared at chris. "i'm not.. i'm not trying to question you, i'm just worried about us.. i feel like i'm losing what i love most, i feel like i'm losing you."

chris's eyes remained on the wall. while it seemed like his expression softened for a moment, his frustrated expression quickly returned. "maybe you are, y/n. maybe this isn't working."

his words hung in the air. heavy and painful. i felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. "is that.. is that how you really feel?" i questioned, my voice trembling as it was just barely above a whisper.

chris's eyes remained to the side. "i don't know. i just can't keep doing this."

the silence that followed was deafening. with a soft wipe of a tear, i took a deep breath. "right. if that's how you feel, then i'll go." i stated, disbelief evident in my voice as i collected my hoodie and car keys.

chris seemed to take a shaky breath with some hesitation, his heart torn. but his anger and confusion seemed to get the better of him as he stood and watched me with an emotionless expression.

without another word, i stepped out of chris's room, the door slamming on my way out.

two days had gone by since that conversation, and i couldn't help but think about it every given moment. the scene repeated in my head.

my eyes remained glued to the ceiling, my body trembling from the cold. but i didn't have the energy to reach over and grip my blanket to pull over myself.

clank.

my eyes opened, but my body didn't move.

clank.

i slowly lifted my head and turned to the window that the sound had come from, flinching slightly when it had occurred a third time.

clank.

i shakily slid out of bed, finally gaining the energy to grab my blanket and wrap around myself.

the floorboard beneath me creaked as i took a few shaky steps, gently taking the thin curtain between my fingertips. i gently pulled it away and looked outside, flinching at the fourth rock that had come in contact with my window.

with a shaky grunt, i pulled open the window and looked outside.

my eyes met with a pair of bright blue ones, his brunette hair shaggy and his body covered in a black hoodie and blue jeans with air forces.

i stared at him in disbelief before i let out a deep sigh. "chris."

"can we please talk?" chris questioned.

i narrowed my eyes at him before i stepped back and shut my window, making my way down the stairs quickly and to the door.

when i opened the door, chris was already standing there.

i stared up into his eyes, which were red and brimmed with tears, probably similar to how mine looked.

"what are you doing here?" i questioned, my voice firm yet soft, as i hadn't really spoken much the last two days.

"i needed to see you," he said, his voice cracking slightly, "please, can i come in?"

with a soft nod, i stepped to the side and allowed him to make his way inside, shutting the door behind him.

we made our way to the kitchen, where i opened the fridge to shakily offer him a pepsi.

chris stared at it for a moment. he seemed to think about it. i furrowed my eyebrows, but they quickly returned to their original place as chris took the pepsi and smiled softly. "thanks."

we stood there for a moment, chris having yet to open his pepsi.

after a few moments, chris let out a deep sigh and set the pepsi down on the counter beside him. "y/n, i'm sorry." he began, his voice heavy with remorse. "i shouldn't have said what i said. i overreacted, and.. i was angry. and hurt. but that's no excuse."

i stared at him for a moment as i brought my arms up to cross over my chest.

"i know i've been pushing you away. i've been scared. scared of losing you, scared of getting hurt. but i realize now that pushing you away is the worst thing i could do."

tears welled up in my eyes as he spoke. "chris.."

chris very cautiously took a step closer to me. "i love you y/n, more than anything. and i'm willing to do what it takes to make this right. please, let me make this right. i want us to work. i want to be better for you."

i looked at him, searching his eyes for sincerity. i saw the pain and regret in them, but also a glimmer of hope. with a deep breath, i felt my own resolve wavering.

"chris, i need to know that you're serious. i need to know that you're not just doing this because you're afraid to lose me."

chis reached out, gently taking my hand. "i am serious, y/n. i've been doing a lot of thinking, and i realize that i need to face my fears and insecurities head-on. i want to work through them, with you. i want us to build a future together.

i felt my heart soften at his words. i had missed him so much. missed the warmth of his embrace and the way he made me feel safe. but i had to be sure.

"chris, if we're going to do this, we need to communicate better. we need to be honest with each other, even when it's hard."

chris nodded, his grip on my hand tightening. "i promise, y/n. no more hiding, no more running away. we'll face everything together."

i took a deep breath feeling a flicker of hope in my chest. i squeezed his hand gently, offering a small smile. "okay, let's try." i smiled and nodded reassuringly.

chris smiled brightly at me. "i'm willing to put in the effort. i just want to be with you."

we stood there, holding each other's gaze. in this moment, we both knew that we had a long road ahead, but we're willing to walk it together. the love we've shared is worth fighting for, and i know that we're ready to face whatever challenges come our way.

chris pulled me into a gentle embrace, his heart swelling with gratitude. "thank you, y/n. for giving us another chance."

i rested my head against chris's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heartbeat. "thank you for coming back for me. for us."

we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms. inside, we know we have a lot to work through, but i know we're ready to face it together. one step at a time. and with the glimmer of hope that we both feel, i can't wait for the brighter future built on love, trust, and understanding.

taglist;; @sturnsxplr-25 @vampiree-555 @wh0resstuff @jetaimevous @sturnioloshacker

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #chris #angst #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo angst

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hugmekenobi · 2 days

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S3: The Bad Batch (12)

Chapter Twelve: Juggernaut

Gif by @azertyrobaz

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: The Batch seek out an unlikely ally to get you and Omega back. Meanwhile, you and Omega find out what's in store for you on Tantiss

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, me making up an SP number, humour used as a deflection tactic, Hunter losing it a bit, brief injury descriptions, threats, implications of torture, mentions of scars, Rampart, Hemlock being a creep, lotta angst,

Word Count: 5.7K

Author's notes: Had a bit of creative fun doing this episode but it should also hopefully feel like an angsty one lol

You braced yourself against the weather as you exited the ship.

The gusts of wind on Tantiss swept the steady drizzle of rain in a diagonal against your face.

You and Omega stopped just before Hemlock as he came to meet you both.

Then, a move occurred that genuinely surprised you.

In quick succession, the operative took Omega’s cuffs off and then did the same to yours before he took to his ship and left.

You and Omega massaged your wrists as you regarded the man ahead of you with suspicious curiosity.

“I trust we won’t have any issues with you and your… talents. Unless you want Omega to suffer the punishment for your disobedience?” Hemlock directed the question to you.

You knew that would be the card he would play, and it was a fucking effective one. “No issue.” You said tightly.

Hemlock nodded before he addressed both of you. “Turning yourselves over was a wise decision. Come with me.”

Omega glanced up at you, but you gave her a nod and the two of you slowly followed Hemlock inside.

The route to the lab had not left Omega’s memory and she recognised the familiar corridors that Hemlock led you both through, although the heightened stormtrooper presence was new.

“Bring the Jedi to the cell we arranged below but keep her away from the vault. She and Omega are not to be together.” Hemlock directed the group of troopers that approached as you all came to a halt outside the lab doors.

Your head snapped over to Hemlock as you heard that.

Omega frantically looked between you and Hemlock. “No!” She shouted.

You saw the group of troopers moving in on you. You called on the Force and pushed them further down the corridor and smacked them into the wall, but you couldn’t do anything more than that. You couldn’t risk Hemlock punishing Omega.

You saw another squad closing in.

You had to let them take you.

Omega looked up at you, tears in her eyes. “They can’t take you! I won’t let them!” Omega turned to Hemlock but all she saw on his face was a cruel sneer. “Please-”

You wouldn’t have her begging that man for anything. You bent down and hugged Omega tight to your chest. Do what you need to do to get outta here. I’ll see you again. You don’t worry about me. You said hurriedly as you felt numerous hands grab you and yank you away from her.

The butt of a blaster smacked against your temple, making you lightheaded and your body more compliant with the soldiers as they pulled you down the corridor.

“No!” Omega fought against the strong grip a trooper took of her shoulder and she couldn’t free herself. But they couldn’t stop her words.

“Bring her back!”

“No! We stay together!”

“Let me go!”

“Stop!” That was the last thing she was able to say before she was dragged into the lab.

Omega’s fading cries were all that echoed through your head as the troopers dragged you away and through another maze of levels and hallways.

Emerie had heard the commotion outside, and she saw the fear and sadness on Omega’s face as she entered but she had to hide her lingering discomfort as Hemlock brought her over. The small smirk that graced Hemlock’s face did not escape her though.

“Begin testing her at one. I want confirmation.” Hemlock ordered but he saw hesitance demonstrated by Emerie at the order. “Is there a problem, Dr. Karr?”

“No.” Emerie replied swiftly. “I’ll handle it.”

“Where’s Nala Se?” Omega asked as she looked around the lab but found no sign of the Kaminoan.

“In a cell. I’m afraid the Kaminoan won’t be aiding you in another escape.” He said to Omega before addressing Emerie, “I’ll return later for the results.” He walked out the lab. He had other preparations to oversee.

Omega walked over to her sister, “Emerie, you don’t have to do this.”

Emerie sighed as part of her wished the words didn’t affect her as much as they did but what else was she supposed to do? This is where she wanted to be… didn’t she? “I’m sorry, but I do.” She prepared the syringe and approached the young girl. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re safe.” Emerie took the sample.

“Am I?” Omega questioned uncertainly. “And why did he take her from me? What is he going to do her? Will she be okay?”

And the reassurance Emerie once might’ve been prepared to offer couldn’t be said anymore.

Pabu was a ghost town.

The people of the island were recovering and hiding in their homes.

All that remained were the signs of destruction the soldiers had left behind.

But there were no more troopers.

No more gunships.

And he knew what that meant.

He couldn’t deny it to himself anymore.

It had happened again.

They’d taken his home.

They’d taken Omega.

They’d taken you. The love of his life.

Gone.

Your time spent together had been so rushed, so interrupted and there had been too little time for him to express how important you were to him since you’d returned.

The life that the two of you were preparing to have together had been snatched away. And now you were gone. You were gone before he’d had the chance to-

And both of you would be subjected to whatever torment Hemlock wished to inflict. The very thought made him sick to his stomach.

If only he’d been quicker, stealthier. If only he’d handled that gunship pilot better. If only-

He stopped short and clawed at his chest as he felt the guilt constrict around his heart. His knees buckled as the entire weight of his failure crashed into him and he had to brace himself against one of the ransacked stalls to keep from collapsing but he forced himself to calm down.

He couldn’t allow himself to lose himself in it. Not anymore.

He’d done that before but that was then.

Now, he let clarity overcome him.

Now he would not lose focus.

He would not falter.

He would not be dissuaded.

Everything he had was going to go into getting you two back.

Hemlock would die.

Nothing was going to stop him from achieving that.

He felt wet nose nuzzle against his palm and he glanced down to see Batcher looking up at him with concerned eyes.

He straightened up and carried onto Archium.

Hunter took his helmet off as he approached his brothers, and he was glad to see Wrecker awake and back on his feet. “The troopers have pulled out, but the cruiser’s still jamming our comms.”

“I still can’t believe you let them turn themselves in.” Wrecker said reproachfully to Crosshair.

“The Empire would have destroyed this whole town. They stopped them.” Crosshair responded, his frustration at the whole situation seeping into his tone. He was more surprised however that the admonishment had come from Wrecker and not Hunter but then again, there was still time.

“Yeah, and they’ve got them again.” Wrecker replied dejectedly. “And we’re stuck here without a ship.”

“Even if we get our hands on a ship, we still have no way of finding Tantiss base.” Hunter said.

The trembling from his hand was an instant reaction. “That’s not exactly true.” Crosshair said cagily as he held his hand.

Hunter stared at his brother carefully and made himself wait for further explanation before he said anything he might regret.

“Wait. You’ve known where Tantiss is this whole time?” Wrecker questioned accusingly.

“I didn’t say I know. There’s someone who might have the coordinates.”

“Who?” Hunter asked urgently.

“Admiral Rampart. He sent Nala Se there when we decommissioned Tipoca City.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Hunter took a few aggressive steps towards Crosshair but checked himself as he caught the way his brother kept massaging his shaking hand. It wouldn’t benefit anyone if he jumped down Crosshair’s throat, he didn’t deserve that.

“Because Tantiss isn’t a place I ever wanted to go back to.” Crosshair admitted. “And Rampart’s not particularly trustworthy. He is a last resort, but he’s our only option.”

“Where’s Rampart now?”

“I was still in the Empire when they arrested him. He was sent to-”

Batcher growling and the sound of a platform opening interrupted him and the three of them turned to see a hatch in the middle of the Archium floor opening up.

“Do not shoot!” AZ yelled as he and Phee came into the room.

“I second that.” Phee agreed as she saw the three clones with blasters pointing in their direction.

The three of them holstered their weapons.

“I saw the Imperials on my approach. When I landed, Doc here briefed me on the situation.” Phee explained.

“How did you get in here unseen?” Hunter enquired.

“Used the hidden cavern access when I docked my ship.”

“We’re gonna need to borrow that.” Crosshair insisted by way of greeting.

Phee regarded the new face with a knowing smile, “You must be Crosshair. Tech told me all about your… sparkling personality.”

“Is that a no?” Crosshair replied, crossing his arms in his typical unimpressed fashion.

“Any friend of brown eyes is a friend of mine. Where are we heading?”

“An Imperial labour camp on Erebus.” Crosshair divulged with a heavy breath but if it meant a chance to get you and Omega back, he would face the demons of his past.

“Ooh, I like this already.” Phee said with a roguish grin. She led the way down, with Wrecker joining her first.

Crosshair faced his sibling and started nervously, “Hunter-”

Hunter just about managed a single, reassuring nod. “I know, Crosshair.”

“I wanted to- if there had been any other way- I’m-”

Hunter touched his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you, Crosshair. Not at all.” He exhaled a sharp sigh, “It was the right call. Besides, you couldn’t have stopped them, no matter how much you wanted to. All that matters is that I know we’re getting them back.”

Crosshair studied his brother. Of all the reactions he’d expected, this one had been low on the list. This was a different type of determination that gave him the impression that Hunter meant what he was saying, but there was more that he was not allowing himself to feel or express anymore.

Hunter removed his hand before they both stepped onto the platform to follow the others down.

Being helpless to Phee’s plan of sending the ship into a vertical nosedive in order to get past the perimeter had emulated Tech’s crazy, yet somehow effective piloting, and it became very clear why the friendship between the two of them had been growing into something more.

With Phee being on standby for a retrieval after she’d dropped them in, they’d managed to infiltrate the system and find out what prison transport Rampart was on and taking the turbo-tank from the Imperials on-board had been a simple task in the end.

Hunter took control of the steering.

Wrecker and Crosshair took up position by the doorway to the prison hold.

Crosshair touched the walls, “It’s magnetically sealed. Wrecker, remember Plan 55?” Crosshair waited patiently as his brother worked on remembering the details of it.

“Oh. Yeah. 55. Waiting on you. Go.” Wrecker said in quick realisation as he prepared his blaster.

Crosshair opened the door, and they advanced down the corridor.

The door opened and Crosshair instantly ricocheted his blaster bolt around the walls, killing most of the troopers and Wrecker took care of the few stragglers that remained.

“Ct-9904?” Rampart said in disbelief as he recognised the uniformed clone.

“You remembered. How touching.” Crosshair sneered as he stared at the former admiral. The ill-fitting, dirty orange jumpsuit and raggedy beard and untidy hair gave a distinct worn and dishevelled appearance to the Imperial that Crosshair knew he would despise, and he found the whole thing rather satisfying. He tapped the side of his helmet to let Hunter know, “The target’s secured.”

“The target?” Rampart repeated with outrage. “What is this? Are you here to kill me?”

“Tempting, but no.”

Wrecker cleared his throat, interrupting the discussion between them, “What about them?” He asked in reference to the other prisoners on board.

Hunter slowed the turbo-tank to a stop to let Wrecker and Crosshair release the remaining prisoners.

“All clear.”

Wrecker’s confirmation on the comms prompted Hunter to get the tank moving again.

“And what about me?” Rampart asked as the larger clone came back from freeing the others.

“You’re fine right where you are.” Crosshair replied tersely.

“If you’re not here to execute me, and you’re not letting me go, then you must need something from me.” Rampart deduced.

“Tantiss base. Where is it?” Crosshair asked briskly.

“Ah. Tantiss.” Rampart repeated as if the answer had been what he’d expected. “And how much is that information worth to you?”

“You’re not in a position to bargain.” Crosshair growled.

“Hmm. I disagree. I’ll talk after you get me off this planet.” Rampart negotiated smoothly, “You don’t get what you want if I don’t get what I want.”

“We’re approaching the bridge. Wrecker, man the cannon.”

Hunter’s voice on the comms interrupted the tension settling between the three men and Wrecker set off to do as instructed.

From the activation of the bridge gates and barricades and the tank that was approaching from the other side of the bridge, it had become pretty clear that the Imperials were onto them, but Hunter wasn’t about to let that stop him. It would take a lot more than that and probably not even then. He increased the speed of the vehicle and powered through them.

The enemy tank opened fire on them, but Wrecker was quick to respond however the blaster fire wasn’t making a dent in either transport.

There wasn’t time for a firefight, “Their armour’s too strong. Take out the wheels.” Hunter ordered Wrecker as he kept the speed of the tank on a steady increase.

Wrecker did just that and the tank came to a crashing halt as the front set of wheels exploded.

Hunter simply ramped up the power and sent their tank flying over the downed Imperial vehicle.

In the chaos of the tank righting itself, Crosshair and Rampart had gotten thrown to the ground.

Rampart attempted to use the opportunity to grab a free blaster, but the clone shot it out of his hands.

Crosshair got to his feet and trained his sniper on Rampart.

“Oh please. You’re not going to kill me.” Rampart said confidently.

Crosshair set his rifle to stun. “Hmm. Not yet.” He replied simply before he knocked the man out and grab him by the collar.

He’d managed to get the tank through to the other side of the bridge, but the sight of approaching gunships caused Hunter to dramatically drop the speed and he drifted the tank onto an off-road path- the narrow cliffside wasn’t enough to deter him from the pace at which he was driving.

Crosshair opened the door to rejoin his two brothers and he dragged Rampart’s body inside.

Hunter tapped the side of his helmet, “Phee, we’re past the perimeter and need that pickup.” He said into his comm but all he heard was the fuzzy sound of static.

Wrecker was able to fire back and destroy one of the gunships on their tail, but he couldn’t stop the other one from making up ground. “Cannons are offline!” He shouted with an aggravated punch to the console as he saw the power go down. “We’ve got troopers up top.” He said as another sensor beeped. He and Crosshair both got ready to deal with it but the reaction from Hunter stopped them both.

Hunter, uncaring about the precarious path, merely weaved the tank in an aggressive pattern to toss the troopers off. This entire thing was getting old rather fast, he had more important things to be doing now. Most fell quickly but one soldier managed to tumble over the side that had a ladder he could cling onto, so Hunter smashed the lone trooper into the cliffside.

Whilst that plan had worked, it hadn’t deterred the final gunship which landed a successful shop that disabled the steering. The controls went rigid in Hunter’s hands. “Controls are dead.” He voiced aloud. They could really use that pickup now.

“We’re running out of road!” Wrecker cried as he saw the end of the path rapidly approaching.

Then, the glorious sound of explosions sounded from the outside.

“Not exactly a stealth exit, boys.” Phee commed in as she took out the final gunship.

“Let’s move!” Hunter directed as they all made their way to the roof of the tank.

Wrecker watched as his brothers made the jump to Phee’s extended ramp. He tossed Rampart’s limp body on the stairs but the gap between the tank and Phee’s ship was increasing, and he couldn’t be confident that he’d make the jump. “Move closer!”

Hunter saw the end of the road was drawing nearer and there wasn’t more time to get the distance exactly right. “Hurry! Jump!” He urged.

Wrecker took a few steps back before he ran and leaped over. He slid down the last couple steps but fortunately, Hunter had a secure hold on his upper arm, so he was able to be pulled securely on board.

Phee got the ship out of any further harms way.

Crosshair, being the only one of the three of them to keep his helmet on, kicked Rampart’s leg to wake him up.

Rampart came around with a wince.

“We got you off the planet. Now tell us where Tantiss is.” Crosshair demanded.

Rampart released a reluctant groan, “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Complicated how?” Hunter asked snappishly.

“No one knows the coordinates to Tantiss. It was designed that way. But I might know how to get around that.” He said but he didn’t elaborate.

Crosshair was getting tired of his games. “Either you tell us now, or we drop you back in that Imperial prison.”

“Now, now. No need for threats.” Rampart tisked. “After all, we’re in this together. Retrieving the young girl will be no easy task, but the girl and a Jedi? You’ll need my expertise so best play nice.” Rampart smirked as he saw the way all three of them stiffened their posture. “Oh yes, word travels amongst the unsavoury characters I was forced to be in close quarters with and between the officers.”

He fixed his stare on Hunter whose jaw was clenched so tight; Rampart wondered if the act was causing him physical pain. “CT-9904 had some rather interesting information to share about the two of you. I didn’t think the protocol would’ve allowed for such… fraternisations.”

Crosshair recoiled slightly as he remembered the conversations. Rampart’s words felt like he may as well have just punched him in the gut, and Crosshair risked a glance to Hunter as he readied his own apologies, but Hunter wasn’t looking at him.

Hunter stalked around the table to stand over the seated form of Rampart who was already beginning to cower into the booth. “You’re here because we need your information but let me make something very clear to you…”

This particular demeanour Hunter was exhibiting was foreign territory to the two brothers. Crosshair and Wrecker watched the interaction closely in case they were needed to intervene, more for their brother’s sake than Rampart’s.

Hunter’s voice took on a tone that was so low and so threatening, it even put Wrecker and Crosshair on edge and made them stand up a little taller. “Mention her or Omega again and you’ll wish you were back on Erebus.”

And Rampart could tell by the intensity of his stare and the conviction behind his words that the clone wasn’t bluffing either. Rampart’s throat went dry, and he swallowed a few times to find his voice again, “P-” He cleared his throat. “Point- point taken.” He said shakily. He’d miscalculated his power in this situation rather badly. Despite the fact he was the one that had the information to offer, it would only be worth it if he got out of here in one piece and the clones kept to their end. Evidently, that would not happen if he pushed that particular button too much.

Satisfied that his words had landed, Hunter turned to go back to the cockpit but jutted his head for Crosshair to follow him.

Wrecker offered a supportive pat on Crosshair’s shoulder as he left.

“Phee, can you go watch Rampart with Wrecker for a few minutes?” Hunter asked tightly as he felt his emotional control slipping.

“Uh, sure.” Phee said with a questioning look between the two clones but the tension in the air was palpable, so she didn’t linger.

Crosshair removed his helmet and waited nervously for his brother to speak.

“What did you tell him?” Hunter ground out as he pushed the rising wave of emotions back down.

Crosshair looked down at the floor in shame. “Nothing. I-”

The wave came back stronger this time, and he couldn’t stop the knee-jerk reaction to his brother’s evasiveness. “Crosshair!” Hunter interrupted heatedly.

Crosshair met Hunter’s stare.

Hunter started talking but his words came out short and sharp with his voice rising with each sentence. “Rampart can’t gain any leverage here. If he has anything about her, about me, about our relationship that he could use against us… against me then I have to know! I need to know what he knows!”

Crosshair kept his voice level; a shouting match would do no good here and Hunter had every right to be reacting the way he was. All Crosshair could do was hope Hunter would believe him. “He doesn’t know anything. Not really.” Crosshair took a breath. “I told him getting her in Imperial custody might be a good way to get you. It would be a way to get you to slip up and come out of hiding. And if you came, the rest of the squad would follow. Nothing specific, I swear.”

Hunter looked at Crosshair but everything on his face and everything he knew about his brother told him he was telling the trust. He didn’t sense any dishonesty and he wasn’t about to throw away the trust he’d built and regained with Crosshair over some stupid comment from Rampart. He relaxed his stance and his tone, “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Hunter said as he pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to quell the oncoming headache that had been brewing since leaving Pabu.

Crosshair dismissed the unnecessary apology. “I’d expected a lot worse.” He recognised the signs and knew his brother needed a moment to himself now, so he quietly left the cockpit.

Hunter exhaled deeply and reached under his clothes and clasped the leather chord as he pulled out the necklace. He fiddled with the Jedi symbol that decorated it and allowed himself the few seconds of ease and happy memories the action brought before he hid it once more.

Hunter shook off everything that had just transpired and put everything else that wasn’t involved in getting you and Omega back to the back of his mind before he rejoined the others.

Omega’s body was heavy with weariness. These tests had taken hours and after the night she’d already had, her body was struggling to fight against the urge to just slide of the stool and sink to the floor.

Her ears pricked up as she heard a cheering dinging, but she saw the curious yet slightly concerned look Emerie shot her way. Omega didn’t have any time to enquire more about that since Hemlock returned.

“Dr. Karr, what are Omega’s results?”

“Her blood sample yielded a favourable M-count replication.”

“As expected.” Hemlock said as he looked to the young girl.

“What does that mean?” Omega asked.

“I’ll show you.” Hemlock replied.

Omega was left with little choice but to follow Hemlock out and walk a route that was unfamiliar to her.

“Did you know an individual’s M-Count cannot be directly replicated?” Hemlock quizzed as he led the way to the vault. “Attempts have been made but each time, the levels degraded. And so we experimented.” He opened the doors to the corridor illuminated with red beams and gestured for Omega to carry on.

Omega didn’t move yet. “Where are you taking me?”

“The vault.”

Together, the two of them then carried on walking.

“We tried various methods, mixing samples from out other test subjects, yet nothing worked...” Hemlock continued to divulge, “until we combined your sample with one of our M-Count specimens.”

Together, the two of you would make a scientists dream so Omega couldn’t understand Hemlock’s command to separate the two of you. What did he have planned for you that was so different to anything else that would lie behind the doors ahead. “Then why couldn’t we stay with each other?”

Hemlock paid no attention to the broader meaning behind question. He kept his focus on her role here instead. “You are a vital piece to our work here, Omega.”

Omega stopped short as the doors opened and she was met with the sight of three children- they were a few years younger than her- and a baby. She recovered quickly and asked, “Who are they?”

“They are the rest of the puzzle. And this, this is your new home.” Hemlock turned around and walked out.

Omega heard the doors shut with a secure clash and she gulped as she took in the space.

She was confined. Again.

You felt a flicker of fear as the door opened and you saw the tiny cell you were to be put in.

The walls were blank and grey.

There wasn’t any type of bed.

All that was there was a thick silver chain with shackles attached to it that was weaved through a notch in the wall.

All of that added to the already freezing temperature of the cell.

One of the troopers shoved you hard in the back and you tripped into the room.

“SP-42, you need to wear this uniform now.”

You studied the face of the woman that gave you the drab, grey clothes and you saw traces of Omega in her face. Plus, it was obvious she was doing her best not to give away the fact that she knew who you were. “Emerie, isn’t it? Omega mentioned you.”

Emerie shifted uncomfortably but subtlety nodded. “She talked about you, too.” She said quietly before she addressed you at a louder volume with a more official stature. “But I really need you to follow my instructions, SP-42.”

“Please, SP-42 was my father. My first name will be fine. I have a feeling we’ll be spending a lot of time together.” You quipped as you took off your armour, the rest of your clothes and changed into the uniform that was handed to you.

“Ah, the use of humour to distract one from the pain of their current situation.”

Your blood ran cold at the soft and quiet yet threatening voice, but you masked your discomfort quickly as Hemlock came into view. “Oh great, it’s SP-Fuckface.” You remarked crudely as you fixed him with an intense glare.

Emerie tensed up at the comment as she took your personal items from you and handed them to one of the troopers.

“Come now, I thought your people were above such vulgar words.” Hemlock fully came into the cell.

“My people and I tended to differ on a lot of things.” You responded icily.

“Indeed.” Hemlock mused.

You forced yourself to keep your eyes up and not look disgusted by the way he touched the half-skull insignia on your old top.

Hemlock nodded to the one of the troopers to take them away and he inhaled deeply before he gave you his full attention. “I must say, this has been a long-awaited reunion. I offer you my congratulations- the search for you always proved most troublesome, despite your rather public endeavours against the Empire. You were a hard one to predict. Even the information I’d been given ahead of time was not always relevant.”

“Sorry I couldn’t make my capture convenient for you.” You retorted as the troopers took your hands behind your back and secured the shackles to your wrists. You pulled against the chain to test it, but it was strong and only extended a short way, so the bitter metal of the shackles instantly dug into your skin.

Hemlock ignored you and kept to his train of thought, “So, imagine my surprise when I got word that you’d handed yourself in all those months ago.”

“What are-” The realisation that hit you brought with it an overwhelming nausea as you stared at him and the cruel smile on his face.

It had always been Hemlock.

From the moment he’d known what you were.

From the moment you escaped him and made the decision to stop hiding.

From the moment you handed yourself over to the Imperials on Christophsis.

It was never just any Imperial official that wanted you.

It all led back to him.

“The secure prison facility…” Your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper as you recalled the words of the Imperial’s that had been getting ready to transport you off Christophsis.

“Very good.” Hemlock complimented. “If it weren’t for the incompetence of those officers in charge of you, I would’ve had you here a lot sooner.”

You reminded yourself of your training as you felt your breathing quicken and the panic that flared in your gut. You got your emotions under control and made sure you presented yourself as if his words had no impact on you.

Hemlock nodded as he saw your reaction, or lack thereof. It only proved he was right to take this course of action with you. You were no mere specimen. “Do you know that little display of yours in the hallway caused several concussions and a few dislocated shoulders?”

“If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not going to find one here.” You snapped.

Hemlock simply gave you a cool smile, “You misunderstand. I know that was only a taste of what you are capable of and it’s that strength of yours will prove most useful to my operation here.”

The panic came back again. “Useful?” You repeated, determined to keep the quiver out your voice as he started to circle you. You kept your eyes firmly towards the door as you felt him pause by your side.

“You see, I have great plans for you.” Hemlock whispered into your ear.

His breath was cold against your skin, and you were fighting against every instinct that was telling you to flinch away.

“Why am I here?” Still managing to keep your voice steady.

“You are here because I wish to study you.” Hemlock let out a deep sigh as he breathed in the scent of your hair. “You are here because having someone with your talents will be most beneficial.” He stroked his hand down the back of your skull. “You are here because you are going to join my operatives. With you being a part of them, nothing will stop me from achieving my goal.”

You had to jerk away from him then, “No.” You breathed in horror. “Never.”

“The very fact that you think you will have a choice shows how little you understand your situation.”

The walls of the room felt like they were closing in around and you could feel your knees growing weak, but you pushed yourself to stay upright. “You can’t break me. Your fellow Imperials tried already.” But the low, mocking chuckle you got in reply deeply unnerved you.

“You will find my methods to be more… sophisticated than what you’re used to.”

You felt his gloved hand trace down your clothed back, following the exact pattern of the scars left behind after everything you endured on Christophsis. You forced down the bile that rose in your throat.

Hemlock traced the pinprick scar on your neck, enjoying the way you attempted to flinch away from him before your stubborn strength kicked in and you stood still. You would provide him a most stimulating challenge that he was yet to meet, even the other prisoner hadn’t resisted as much as he expected. “I focus far more on the mind than those imbeciles on Christophsis. Perhaps if they’d used their interrogation droid more wisely, I would’ve been reacquainted with you sooner.”

Your entire body went numb. His vile words were far more threatening than any of the Imperials and troopers you’d come across.

“They didn’t understand what they had in their possession, but I do. Your mind will become mine. You will be one of my operatives.”

“And if I don’t?” You would sooner die than join him and you knew he had to know that too.

Hemlock came round to stand in front of you once more. “Then your time here will be short-lived. But I hope we can avoid such an unpleasant outcome. After all, Omega’s fate could depend on it.”

You lunged forward but the chain tugged you backwards immediately.

“Take her vitals and return to the vault.” Hemlock ordered as he placed his hands behind his back and walked out.

It took everything in you to keep standing as Emerie drew a sample of your blood.

Emerie avoided eye contact with you. That entire interaction had her struggling not to bolt. She just kept her sights firmly on the vial as she stepped away from you and headed towards the door.

“Emerie.”

Emerie paused but kept her back to you.

“Look out for her, okay? She might not need it but it’s looking like I can’t be the one to be there for her if she does.”

Emerie nearly turned to face you, but she stopped herself and said nothing as she exited.

Only when Emerie left did you collapse to your knees on the stone ground and let the emotions leave you in frantic, terrified breaths.

You allowed yourself a moment to lose yourself in your situation before you regained your composure.

You adjusted yourself into as comfortable as a position you could manage.

You closed your eyes and allowed the Force to wrap you in its calming and secure presence.

He wouldn’t break you.

No matter what he thought he could do.

He wouldn’t get to you.

You would get out of here somehow.

Next Chapter (to be posted)>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @notgonnaedit , @allthingsimagines @nightmonkeysstuff , @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x female!reader #hunter x fem!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #friends to lovers #star wars #angst

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we-out-here-simping · 2 days

Text

Ch 2: The teenage hobby of making out.

(s.h. x gn!reader)

from the river to the sea. (get in your daily clicks, read about it, donate if you can.)

Summary: Hopper’s getting mad that his kids are kissing boys.

Word count: 7.7k

Warnings: use of (y/n); no pronouns used (gn!reader); Suggestive (sexy ice cream consumption); steamy but no smut; boner alert; hopper being a cockblock; arguing; reader is jealous of Eleven; hopper makes a 'your wife' joke (its canon); daddy issues?

A/n: this is the closest i think ive gotten to writing smut so far lol i struggled so much

Anyway ive been having the big bad no good awful time lately and feel like doing literally nothing but i really pushed myself to finish this guy so have this and also I think it's high time we get readyyy for desi!reader!!!! She will be arriving soon hopefully!!!

masterlist

...

‘You don’t tug on superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind.’

Hopper’s record player blares. Your eyes fling open at the intruding loud tone of at this point what you know to be Jim’s favourite song.

‘You don’t pull the mask off an old lone ranger and you don’t mess around with Jim.’ The faceless crowd chants through the speakers. Quite swell headed of himself when you really think about it.

Your face scrunches, a yawn leaves you when you stretch under the quilt. The sheets beside you ruffle, and when you turn it is your sister, rousing from her sleep as well, Mr. Arnold, the teddy bear, in her arms. She lets out a frustrated groan at the loud song, before pulling her blanket over her head.

You snort at that because you’re sure it's impossible to fall asleep with that playing right outside the room. This is not the first time that Jim has used this really effective strategy to annoy you and your sister out of your slumber.

You lay there for a second before finally getting up to get started with the morning, knowing full well Hopper won’t be quietening it down unless both of you were out of bed and having breakfast. It also isn't like you had neighbours to complain about the noise.

By the time you come out of the bathroom, Eleven is once again stirring awake. She stretches both her arms above her head again and lets out a deep sigh.

"Morning, El.”

She mumbles something that sounds like ‘morning’, her tone a lot less peppy than yours. she once again decides she wants to be back asleep, rolling over and burying herself in the sheets again. “I think… I hate that song now”, you hear her grumble under the mass of the comforter.

“Yeah, that happens when you are forced to listen to something a billion times. What's weird is he does have other records but he really loves the song with his name in it”, you laugh both at your sister’s and Hopper’s antics.

You sit back on the bed with an ‘oof’, looking at where she lies beside you. “Okay, kid, let's get outta bed”, you say knowing full well that the noise isn't going to stop unless you both step out of the room. “c’mon El”, you sigh, shaking her a little by her shoulders. "Don't you have to go meet Dustin today?"

El’s eyes shoot open, she looks up at you with wide eyes as if she'd forgotten about her plans. She throws the blanket and the soft toy off of her and jogs away to her room.

You chuckle to yourself at her excitement, reaching under the quilt to look for Mr. Arnold. You pull him out, brushing the messy fur around his beady eyes before putting him neatly with the rest of the pillows and get out of the room yourself.

You head out into the kitchen, the smell of roasted coffee hitting you immediately. Jim has always been notorious for having his coffee extra strong, no cream, no sugar. you remember trying it once and pledged to never do that again, not being accustomed to that taste.

There's a box of cereal on the kitchen counter, you fix yourself a bowl and put some in another bowl for Eleven. You then head to the couch where Hopper is reading a newspaper and sipping the bitter and brown beverage, "morning" you say quietly— shouting was not needed since he had turned the player off when he noticed both you and Eleven were awake.

"Morning kid", he greeted from behind the newspaper, not really bothering to look up.

"You have to find a better way to wake us up."

He chuckles to himself, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" he jostles the flimsy paper.

You roll your eyes which he doesn’t notice. That’s the usual with him. He doesn’t ever seem to notice you. And for the most part, you’re used to it. Somewhere between adopting you and now, things changed. Not to be mistaken, he is the closest thing you have to a father and you know he does love you but some part of this relationship feels… hollow now. Like you’re not getting enough, he’s not willing to give you enough.

In silence, you swirl your spoon around in the floating cereal while Hopper takes a big sip of his coffee. You think to finally tell him about Steve.

Just when you were contemplating when to speak up about it, Eleven comes out of her room, still wearing the same clothes, "Morning Hop", she greets brightly.

He looks up, "Morning kiddo", he smiles before his gaze moves back to his newspaper.

“There's a bowl for you on the kitchen counter”, you let the girl know. She smiles and pours herself some milk into it.

"Hey, Hop?", The super powered girl calls out. He hums through a mouthful of soggy cereal as he looks up from the newspaper. "Can you take me to Will's?” she says while walking over to the couch where he was sitting, "Dustin is coming back today. We're surprising him"

"Oh, okay kid. We'll just leave in a bit", he sets down the papers and downs all of the cereal. He goes into his room. By the time you and Eleven are done with your breakfast, Hopper comes out, clad in his uniform.

"Hey y/n any groceries you want me to get? Going to the Market today", he asked while putting his shoes on.

"Yeah, it's on the fridge"

The man went over to the fridge door and took the list off of it. He took a second to read the contents of the list before muttering out the last one, "icecream, again?"

"I like ice cream. We ran out", you shrugged.

"I bought a tub this sunday."

“I really like ice cream”

“seriously? this is getting more ridiculous than El’s eggo obsession–”

“hey!” she interjects.

“and weren’t you expanding your horizons? How’d that combo work out last night?” He looks between you and Eleven.

"It was…", she pauses, looking for a suitable word, "disgusting.” she says with the straightest face before going to her room to get changed and to put on her shoes, you assume.

“I… can't say that I disagree”

“Look kid, I'm not getting you ice cream so often, okay? Anything else?"

“...Nope that's… that’s it. Just the list.”

“‘Kay,” he shoves the paper in the pocket of his shirt. He glances over at the room that Eleven is in before clearing his throat. “Hey, do you uh…”, he looks back you, voice softer than it was just a second ago, “wanna talk about it?”

“About..?”

“That nightmare I’m assuming you had last night.”

“... there's– there isn't anything to talk about”

“Yes there is”, he barely gets the words out of his mouth when you sigh, frustrated before getting off the couch and moving towards the kitchen.

“C’mon kid,”, he follows behind you, “you haven't been telling me anything recently, and Owens told me–”, you groan at the name, “don't interrupt me– Owens told me that you refuse to share anything with him either.”

“I don't tell anything because there is nothing to tell. And honestly,” you put your bowl in the sink, “I don't want to talk about stupid feelings with a stupid old man”

“You think I haven't been hearing you scuttering ‘round in your room trying to fall asleep? So don't bullshit me but there is a lot to tell. He recommended these weekly check ups because they will help. I mean– look at El, she barely struggles with the night terrors or–”

“You just have to compare me to her, don’t you?”

“Owens will call saturday and you better tell him everything”, he commands with his nostrils flared.

You roll your eyes away from him, crossing your arms.

“Do you hear me? Hey! look at me when I’m talking to you”, he uses that stern voice again, the one that means ‘you better listen or else’. You aren’t sure what the ‘or else’ ever is yet you always listen when he uses that voice. You look at him, reluctantly so, “Good. now… I'm getting late. Why don't you get rid of that attitude and stop being such a brat" he shoves his wallet in his back pocket, calling out Eleven's name and she comes out wearing a navy-blue t-shirt that seemed a little too big for her, and she casts you a concerned look.

You let out a frustrated huff as soon as the door shuts close behind them. You run your fingers over your face, your head hurting again after that argument.

You then head to put the rest of the bowls in the sink and the milk in the fridge, but that's when you notice it. The Eleven's drawing— of you, Hopper and herself— that was initially stuck to the fridge door with a magnet, was now on the floor— along with the other magnets. You tried to put them back on nevertheless they fell again. You were frustrated as it is, it only made you angrier when they didn't stick. In your rage you shove them in the nearest drawer, it closes with a loud thud.

You weren't sure how this entire thing had managed to get you so mad. You wanted to rip your hair out, break all the bowls, burn the stupid phone so Owens never calls, shatter hopper's favourite coffee mug, tear apart every drawing Eleven has made of you all together. But you don't. You just stand there, trying your best to keep it at bay– the anger, the tears, both. And god, you needed to catch your breath, you needed some water.

You grab a glass of water from the tap. As it fills, you latch open the window above the sink. The window and the glass of water had become a part of your routine to calm yourself down. A compulsion at this point because if you didn't do it, everything felt off.

You guzzle down the thing, the liquid cooling you. You force yourself to close your eyes, breathing in, holding it and then breathing out– just like Hopper had taught you. Although it brings down your anger, it doesn't exactly calm you down. You blame it on the lack of wind today.

You don't keep your eyes closed for too long though. You close the window and head to your room. You don't bother with anything else, planning on hiding under the sheets for the rest of the day. It is then that you hear a knock on your bedroom window.

You look up from the mess of wrinkled sheets and you are met with the beautiful smile of your boyfriend. He gives you a little wave with a bouquet of flowers and holds up a takeaway cup from scoops ahoy. A smile automatically forms itself on your face as you walk over to the window and open it so he could climb in.

He lets himself in in a rather not ninja way, your hands flying to steady him. you take in his clothes– his scoops ahoy outfit, the colours suit him, his favourite watch snug around his wrist, the shorts fitting him perfectly, his floppy hair resting softly against his forehead— he looks beautiful to say the least.

"Morning your highness!", He spoke up with a rich English accent– gesturing wildly with the bouquet, "Flowers picked by yours truly! Ice cream scooped, once again, by your beloved", he handed you the flowers— which you held close to your chest while showcasing a huge grin. "And guess what? New flavour! You have to try it, babe."

You adjust the crooked name tag on his shirt, "I was just leaving for work but decided to take a little detour. Hope you don't mind me coming."

"Of course I don't— it's just, if you came like two minutes earlier, Hop would've caught you."

"Close call", he wipes the imaginary sweat off of his temple, making you giggle a little.

"You look very pretty," you say before you even realise.

"I'm supposed to be a manly man! you calling me pretty and beautiful isn't helping with that", he complains only half-heartedly because he loves hearing you call him those things. No one has ever complimented him in such a way, sure he has gotten compliments about his hair or his nether regions from girls but you telling him he's pretty and cute made butterflies flutter all over in a way he didn't think was possible.

"Well, that's too bad. You are pretty", he blushes all pink when you say it, "The prettiest ever", he smiled shyly as you came closer to him— faces merely inches apart.

"Not too shabby yourself babe", he pecked the tip of your nose and then you go to put the flowers in a vase next to your bed.

“How did last night go?” he asks, following behind you.

“Hmm?”

“You were... going to tell your dad about us?”

“Oh.”

He purses his lips, “I'm guessing you didn't”

“I wanted to, I swear but then Mike Wheeler happened."

“‘Course he did”

“And then I almost did this morning too but then Jim and I had a fight, like right now..”

“Fight, about what?”

You quickly shake your head, “.. doesn't matter. I’m sorry”

“Hey, its okay. How ‘bout this okay, you.. try again. okay? whenever feels right-- no rush" you nod slowly. the boy flashes you a grin before speaking up again, "now, gimme a little kiss"

"No."

"No? why no?" he pouts.

"’Cause I want to have ice cream first", you declare, booping his nose.

He lets out a playful scoff, “is that all I am to you? I stole this just for you yesterday and I don’t even get a kiss?" he is all theatrical as he holds is palm on his chest to show just how scandalized he feels.

“Stole it?”

“Nah", he clicks his tongue as a no, shaking his head, "we get free ice cream.”

Your brows fly up at the information, “Woah, really? hmm, I need to work there.”

“Will you? Please do. My coworker pretty much hates me–”

While he is rambling, you try to snatch the cup from his hand, but before you could do so he pulls his hand away. "Ah ah ah, you gotta give me the password first to get the ice cream babe"

"What?" you ask, brows knotted together.

"Not the password", He says in a monotonous voice.

"Steve c'mon–"

"Not the password."

"Just give it to me, Steve", you try reaching for it again– to no avail.

"Not the password."

"Stevieee", you're practically draped over him, yet he somehow manages to keep the cup right out of your reach.

"Not the password", he smirks, laughing a little.

You sigh, you had to play it his way to get what you want. You give a quick kiss on his cheek– more so a peck. "Hm, warmer...", he hums, "but still not the password."

You groan all frustrated, knowing full well what he wanted. and you had no other choice than to give in. You tilt your face so your lips meet his and when you pull back, awaiting his response. He finally says, "You got it", before lowering his hand.

Steve then goes into character– sitting you down on the edge of your bed, he takes out his hat from his pocket that said 'ahoy' on it and puts it on top of your head.

He greets you how he would welcome any other customer, you giggle at his theatrical antics. "Now, since you are one rather good looking sailor, I'll let you set sail on this ocean of flavor with me with this amazing scoop of our new invention!!'

The treat is a little melted— blame it on the summer heat. tasting phenomenal, surely to be your new favourite. As Steve watches you relish the delicious flavour, he notices that the runny liquidy ice cream has managed to drip around the corner of your mouth and lower lip.

"Oh babe, you've got a–" His thumb swipes over your lower lip— eye contact unbreaking— Smearing the liquid much more than actually wiping it. He does it unreasonably slow.

"There", he pulls his arm back, and without looking at the residual ice cream on his thumb he licks it– gaze still unwavering. "Delicious", he murmured. Heat creeps up your neck and spreads through your cheeks. You both knew what Steve was doing although you'd be lying if you said that it wasn't working.

Having expected for you to be absolutely flustered, Steve is surprised when instead your features morph into a mischievous smile, "right? You wanna try some?"

"Uh, sure", he hesitates.

You go to feed him the drippy ice cream with the spoon only to 'accidentally' smudge it at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, you've got a—"

"Oh, very funny babe—" Before Steve could finish, your lips were attached to the corner of his mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick at the liquid— the movements agonisingly slow. It is then that Steve forgets how to function. He doesn't reciprocate your kisses, being sure he'd forgotten how to kiss. This was the first time you'd initiated a kiss, or made a move on him and now he didn't know how to react.

When you pull away, his eyes remain closed for a bit longer. But when they finally do flutter open, instead of the same mischievous sly smirk, he is met with your wide eyes. You blink as if unsure of what you had done, Steve sees you gulp before you get up and leave the room.

Steve was stuck, he realises. His mind has forgotten how to work for however long that lasted. Maybe it was minutes or maybe it was only just a few seconds– to him it felt like hours though. Blood rushed to his cheeks and other parts of his body.

He paid it no mind though and quickly got up to find you. His situation will go away, right now he needed to make sure that you were alright. He went out of the room and sees you by the kitchen— throwing away the empty cup— your back turned towards him.

You don't look up when he stands beside you, he calls out your name and you shyly turn to sneak a look at him, rubbing your own arm anxiously, “S– sorry that was weird right?”

“Uh– n– no! It wasn't", he assures, shaking his head, "It just… um, I wasn't expecting it. It was– It wasn't weird.” he waits, hoping you'd say something but when you don't, he speaks up, "That was like the– the hottest thing ever– what you did back there."

“It wasn't... too much? It felt like it was too much.”

“Too much? I have a boner right now, respectfully, of course.”

Your eyes widen, and just when they were about to trail down– “don't look down!” You hold your breath, trying your best to muster all your power to maintain eye contact with him, but your gaze betrays you for just a second as it snaps down to his groin before jumping back to his eyes. Your face becomes so warm, palms clammy.

“W-what do I do?”

“No–nothing? It’ll go away”, he barely manages to stammer out, turning his body towards the kitchen counter so you don't see it, eyes roaming everywhere but towards you.

Steve in high school never would have faced such issues, king steve never would have been so clumsy and embarrassed in front of someone he liked. The old Steve wouldn't get this damn red and awkward. But he does, he isn't the old Steve afterall.

He feels your hand on his shoulder, urging him to look your way. When he does, his eyes meet your unsure gaze-- you were looking at his lips. He himself can't help but trace the contour of your face, from your eyes to your nose, to the swoop of your cupid's bow to finally your lips.

It is you who leans in. This kiss was different than any you have had before. It grows deeper. And suddenly, its all tongue and teeth. Steve has never kissed you like this before. Its hands over your body, fingers creeping under your t-shirt. And its unusual. A good unusual. One you could get used to.

“Steve?" you breathe out when you pull apart.

“Y– yeah?”

“I’m sure. What I said yesterday, I’m sure.”

“Wait– you’re not just saying that ‘cause I–’

“No. I– I mean it.” You let out a giggle. The giggle which he was sure could end and fix all his fears and nightmares. The giggle that made his heart flutter and stomach do summersaults. You were sure to be the death of him.

His grip around your waist tightens as he rests his forehead against yours, warm noses touching. "When.. uh– when does Hopper come back?"

"5:30," you huffed out, once again leaning in and he once again pulled back to be just out of your reach.

"One last question, El isn't home, is she?"

"No, no. She– she's with– friends. Won't come back till four."

"Good, wouldn't want them to come in on this", he almost growls before latching your lips together. And then you're kissing him. It is messy, but he loves every single second of it. His hands go to hold your jaw and yours to his cheeks, pulling in closer– deepening the kiss. At this point you'd both forgotten to breathe, too intoxicated on each other. But soon, both your lungs start to burn off the lack of oxygen and you both pull apart.

Your breaths were jagged, foreheads still touching. You gasp into his mouth. Your lips move in tandem as Steve pushes you between himself and the counter. The edge of the counter digs into your thighs. His hands travel to right below your ass, ready to lift you up onto the counter. But before he could do so, you pull him by the collar of his sailor outfit towards your room— lips never stopping contact. Steve takes the hint and gently pushes you against the door of your room, fumbling for the door knob.

You grab a fistful of his hair, he lets out a moan into your mouth. He finally manages to open the door, and you immediately pull him in. Steve tries to steady you both while tightening his hold on your hips, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

You pull him towards the bed. He finally pulls away to take off his shirt only to latch his lips back to yours. He is hovering over you, lips never not touching, hands roaming each other's bodies. You slightly pull away, your digits fumbling for the cassette player's buttons next to your bed. The button clicks and Asia’s ‘heat of the moment’ starts playing. The both of you laugh because it was the mixtape that you and Steve had made a couple months ago.

…

Hopper had just reached the Byer's when he realises that he had forgotten his hat in the heat of the argument with you. He frowns upon the thought of the argument, he regrets shouting, he was worried about you and maybe he shouldn't have gotten that mad.

He waves over at Eleven, watching behind her to make sure she gets inside. He starts the engine and heads back to the cabin to retrieve his hat and perhaps make amends with you.

When he gets there, you don't open the door. You were possibly still mad at him, he thinks when he lets himself in, he could hear the song blaring from your room. He takes a peek in through the cracked open door.

Through the few inch wide door gap, he sees you and Steve Harrington. A shirtless Steve Harrington on top of you. The boy kissing you. And you kissing him back.

Through the kisses, his lips trail along your jaw and down your throat landing on your collarbone— pulling a moan out of you. "God, you're– fuck", Hopper barely hears the boy mumble. The man's nostrils flare as he sees his hands go back to the little sliver of skin exposed between your shirt and your shorts, fingers playing with the hem of the shirt.

"HEY!"

Steve immediately pulls away and yelps when you accidentally yank his hair. You both look up towards the source of the sound and there stood Jim Hopper, eyes wide with seething anger.

“HOPPER?--”

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Hopper", You yelp out, speedily turning the player off while Steve fumbles to hide his integrity behind a pillow. Both Steve and Hopper were bright red. You were sure to go deaf to the loud beating of your heart.

"What in the fuck are you doing with my kid, Harrington?", You were sure Hopper's face would burst into flames any second now.

Steve eyes bounce frantically between you and hopper, he stammers, "I— Hopper—"

"That's fucking sir to you, Harrington."

"Sir, I—"

You hold your hands up, hoping to calm Hopper down after he found you in such a compromising position, "It's– its not what it looks like Hop—"

"So you're telling me that you two weren't about to–"

"Hop—", you try interrupting him but he interjects you by turning to Steve, pointing his finger at the poor boy while simultaneously squaring up on him. "I'm gonna have a serious fucking talk with your father, Harrington."

He walks backwards, incredibly intimidated, "But, sir—"

"Cover your goddamn tits and wait for me outside, Harrington." Steve gulps, silently nodding– knowing well enough that talking back was going to be fruitless so he leaves the room, the door shutting behind him.

You try speaking up again, "Hopper, listen–"

"No, you listen", he scolds with gritted teeth and flared nostrils, "You are fucking grounded. You can live your stupid paranoid fantasy and stay safe and stuck in this cabin”

“Hop–”

"And that means no tv–"

"Dad–"

"No radio or cassettes, no more phone, no more tv– ", he said as he unplugs the radio player and pulls out the cassette box from under your bed and throws the tapes around in anger "what else are you hiding from me, huh?”

"Nothing, hopper–"

He notices the box pushed further back under your bed and pulls it out— filled to the brim with Steve related stuff. your graduation caps, polaroids, mixtapes, books that had flowers pressed between their pages, beer bottle caps from when you had gotten drunk for the first time– all on the floor for display; the entire thing doing nothing to calm the raging man down. "Hopper, stop–"

"No more fucking dating", he picks up the mixtapes and books, throwing them with immense fury and rage. He pulls out polaroids of you and Steve and crumbles it up.

"NO!!--"

"And NO MORE FUCKING STEVE HARRINGTON", he smashed the now empty box against the floor, "D'YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?" he was shouting now, full on shouting— and it scared you. For the first time, Hopper scared you. The same guy who had saved you, protected you. The first person with whom you felt safe, ever.

Tears spring up in the corner of your eyes. you duck your chin into your chest, squinting them shut.

“Asked you a fucking question.”

You try to even your breaths before answering, "No."

"What'd you say?", Words dripping in fury.

"I said, no."

"Why? You love that stupid idiot or something?"

The question scares you because you don't have an answer. You wrack your brain, looking for an answer but still…. your brain pulls up a slide that was nothing but a blank screen.

Do you love him?

You like him. You love being with him. He is your best friend, your only friend. But do you love him? how would you know? You do not know.

“He’s my friend. He’s my only friend, Jim”

"Cut the bullshit, y/n", Hopper spoke as he noticed the tears springing up in your eyes and right now he was too damn angry to regret it.

Either of you don't hear the sound of the door shutting over your own heartbeat. you finally speak up, "You're bullshit."

"What?"

"You see El and Mike everyday, they're always kissing. But you see me with Steve one time–"

"The one time I see you two, you are fornicating— El and Mike don't do that."

"I'm a fucking adult, Hopper"

"You're a goddamn teenager is what you are!"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't do this stuff when you were a teenager, Hopper. You’re being an asshole!”

“Maybe you shouldn't have hid things from me y/n and I'm not being an asshole, I'm giving you a reality check. and if you think you’re such an adult then stop fucking hiding in this cabin from the world and feeding you little paranoid fantasy”

Both your chests rise and fall, face warm with aggravation, “Oh, don't look at me like I’m some monster", Hopper shakes his head at you, exasperated. you don't say anything, instead you get up to leave the room, "… where do you think you are going?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Aww, where are you gonna go, to your boyfriend?”

"You know what? That's a great idea, Jim. I’ll go and never come back again, I'll live with Steve or I’ll live in that stupid trailer. I've done it before and I'll do it again", you say with absolute resentment, all gritted teeth and red eyes. "I’ll leave", you sniffled, "Cuz you sure as hell don't want me here."

"Sure, kid, go 'head", he said through flared nostrils and a mock smile.

You raise your volume too before, "You won't have to fucking pretend to care for me anymore, you can take care of El all you want now", you pause for a beat before murmuring, "Clearly you like her more."

"..What–"

"Don't play dumb", your voice shakes as you speak, "it took you years to even consider adopting me, but you took El in in a heartbeat. El’s the one you care about Hopper– just fucking admit it, she's the one that gets hugs, she's the one that gets all the love and affection, she’s always mattered more to you, she's the one who matters to you because she's the one who reminds you of your dead daughter"

You said that. You said that. And the truth was that you meant it. Sure, you regret it, knowing how much it affected Jim. But it seemed only fair in your rageful brain to do the same.

Hopper is frozen, he swallows a lump in his throat. He looks at you hunched over the mess he'd made, your eyes red, watery and enraged.

You see him take a deep breath; it almost seems like he was about to say something. Maybe he'll apologise, you think, maybe you will too. Instead, he turned, his body lingering for a second too long near the door, and you pray that he says something– anything so you could take it all back. He lets out the breath he had been holding and shut the door behind him. A few seconds later you hear the cabin's door slamming. He left.

…

At the station, Jim was having his lunch– donuts, which Flo had bought for everyone in the light of her birthday. Powell and Callaghan were discussing something, Flo has given Jim some paperwork– he isn’t sure about what though. His mind was too busy playing your argument on repeat.

El’s the one you care about, Hopper.

She’s the one who matters to you.

Because she’s the one who reminds you of your dead daughter.

“Chief?” Jim realises that he had been staring at the files that Flo had given him.

“You okay, boss?”

“Uh, yeah— I’m peachy Callaghan”, Hopper gets up from his chair picking up another donut, “exactly how your wife was last night.”

Powell and the rest of the workers let out a guffaw while Flo looks at Jim with disapproving eyes and Callaghan looks like a kicked dog. Jim picked up his keys, headed towards the exit.

“Where are you going Jim?”, Flo demands behind him.

“Gotta take care of something, Flo”, he picks up his hat and puts it atop his head, “Hold the fort down for me while I’m gone?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Thanks, Flo”, he muttered, flashing a fake grin. Hopper shoves the donut in his mouth and went out the door and into his car. He drives through the empty streets of the local market, one hand tight around the steering wheel and the other holding the crumpled up shopping list you’d made. Joyce would know how to deal with both your and El’s situation, he thinks to himself as he stopped in front of Melvald’s general store, she was actually good at the whole parenting thing, afterall.

When Jim steps into the empty store, he is met with Joyce putting up a sale sign. “Hey”, her head turned at the sound of the bell ringing.

“Hey, You busy?”

“You’re our first customer, so..” There is a beat. Hopper’s fingers fumble with the edge of his hat. “What now?”

Hopper vents about everything that happened between you two to Joyce while picking up all the groceries you had written in the list. “And its not just y/n, El too— she and Mike are kissing, like constantly and the other day— she just…. slams the door, right in my face. and– and y/n just doesn't wanna tell me anything and every time I try to talk, it just turns into an argument. and this last one just really went to shit”, Joyce hums as she rings up all of Jim’s groceries.

“Y’know, those smug sons of bitches, Steve and Mike. They’re corrupting them, I’m telling you.”, he shakes his head, “This has never happened before. And I’m just gonna lose it. I mean, I’m gonna lose it, Joyce–”

“Just take it down, Hopper”, Joyce speaks with a calm tone as she packed up the groceries.

“I want– I need to get rid of them."

“'rid of them'? you sound like you're going to murder them. and didn’t you already tell Steve and y/n that they can’t see each other anymore?”

“But El—”

“Hopper, that is not your decision to make”

“You don’t get it Joyce, El and mike– it’s constant. It is constant. And y/n's been hiding this thing from me for months probably! Months!”, Joyce huffs at Hopper’s anger, “Okay? That is not good or normal, that isn’t healthy”

“What you did to y/n and Steve isn’t healthy either”, Joyce pushes Hopper’s grocery bag on the counter towards him, “Besides, you can’t just force them apart.” She leaves the checkout counter and moves to an aisle and starts putting sale tags on the items, still continuing the conversation. “I mean, y/n’s right— they’re not little kids anymore, Hop.” The woman explains with knitted brows while the man picks up a random thing from the aisle nearest to him and starts playing catch with himself like a bored toddler.

“They’re teenagers Hopper”, Joyce huffs, “If you order them around like a cop, then they’re going to rebel. It's just— what they do.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Let them do whatever they want?”, Jim tosses the box up again.

“No, I didn’t say that”, she sighs, snatching the box midair while shooting a chastising look towards the tall man, “I think you should talk to them.”

“No. no, ‘cause talking doesn’t work–”

“Not yelling. Not ordering”, she gestures with the tag gun, “But talk to them” The woman turns to put the box back where it belonged while muttering with a shrug, “y'know like a heart-to-heart.”

“A heart-to-heart?” Hopper questions, confused, “what’s that?”

“You sit them down, you talk to them. Like you’re their friend”, Joyce explains while the man leans against a wall rather dramatically as if he was five-year-old listening to a lecture about the theory of relativity, “if you talk to them like you’re on their level, then they really start to listen. And then– you know, you can start to create some boundaries”

“Boundaries”, Jim repeats.

“Yeah, but Hop— it's really important that no matter how they respond,” she pauses for emphasis, “You stay calm. You cannot lose your temper”

The uniform clad man rolls his eyes; however, he hid it quickly before Joyce could notice and taps his fingers awkwardly against the wall, “uh, maybe, you could do it for me?”, he requests as if asking Joyce if he could do his homework

“No.”

“Yeah you could. You could come over after work. Yes?”

“No. it only works if it comes from you. Besides you're the one who yelled at y/n. So, you're the one who will apologize.”, She punctuated her sentence by putting a tag on Hopper's shirt. “But…", She trailed off.

“But?”, Jim echoes.

“Maybe I can help you…”, she picks up a notepad from the counter, “find the right words.”

…

You have locked yourself in your room, not planning on seeing anyone. It's what you deserve anyway. Its probably for the better. The lights are turned off, the only source of light in the pitch darkness is spilling through the tiny gap of your slightly open door. You've hidden yourself under the blanket, the bed a mess from tossing and turning.

You hear muffled sounds of Jim reciting something in a monotonous tone from the room next to you. “...important to establish these boundaries...”, His muttering sounding like he had a cigarette between his teeth, “....we can create an environment where.... we feel comfortable, trusted and open….”, you hear him pause, “to share our feelings”. He pauses again and you turn around in your sheets, burying your head under the quilt not planning to hear any more of it. Because if you did you’d cry, whether of jealousy or hurt or regret or guilt, you did not know, you just knew that you would cry.

After some time you then heard the thump of his feet from his room. They stopped in front of your door for a few seconds and you think for just a second that maybe he will knock, maybe you both will fix this, but then they started moving again, moving further from your door and finally stopping in front of El’s door. He knocks. “Hey”

“Yes?”

“Can I talk to you guys, a minute?”, he asks. You couldn't hear the rest of the conversation as it was muffled by the walls and door. But you filled in the gaps— hopper was trying to talk to Eleven and Mike, possibly about the previous night. He was trying for Eleven. Not for you. For Eleven.

Then Hopper abruptly left with Mike— something about the boy's nanna. You knew that definitely wasn't the truth. For once, you felt bad for Mike.

...

"Y/n?", Eleven cracked the door open. You were lying in your bed, back facing the door. Eleven approached the foot of the bed. "Are you okay?", with knitted brows, she asks, eyes trying to adjust to the dark room.

"I just feel a little sleepy, El", she did not need to know about your fight with Hopper. She did not need to see that ugliness.

"Do you want to watch romcom?"

"You do that"

"And you?"

"I'm not in the mood, El. Kinda tired. I'll be fine, I think I just need sleep.”

The short haired girl nodded rather half-heartedly and left. A few seconds later, the door opened again, you didn't turn to see who it was.

“Do you want ice cream? Hopper brought some”, It was Eleven again.

“... No, I'm alright”, you don't bother looking up.

"Y/n?", you feel her palm on your shoulder before you turn around hoping the dark room hid your red eyes. "I've kept your food here”, she tells you.

You give a faint smile at the girl's kindness. She closed the door behind herself, leaving.

After eating your food, you fall headfirst into the pillows and there lied Mr. Arnold. You held the bear flush against your chest. Maybe the soft toy could help you fix this too. It smelled like Eleven, you smiled at the thought of your sister and you hated the fact that you were jealous of her. She was the kindest, strongest and most adorable kid— and you'd talked to Hopper about her like you resented her. She was your sister, you loved her.

The bear also smelled like Steve. You missed him, you wondered what he was doing. You told yourself to call the boy after Hopper leaves the next morning. You are curled up in your bed, exhaustion overtaking you. Your eyelids grew droopy and soon you were drifting into sleep.

…

You’re in your room, grey and sterile. your headache had dulled out for the most part, although your eyes still felt too dry. Your Papa had come to check in on you. He said that you were getting better and that you could go back to lessons and the rainbow room from the next day.

The entire week you were like this he didn't bring up why you are hurt. You reckon he was disappointed. You don't bring it up either, just glad that you didn't have to wear the collar because you were hurt.

When the doctor gave you medicine with the injection, Papa held your hand, his other hand brushing over your shaved head to comfort you.

"Good job, Seven."

When the doctor leaves, you finally speak up, "Papa?", he looks at you, "are you angry... at me?"

"For what?"

"For what happened that day."

"No, Seven. I'm not. I am proud of you and the extent of your powers”, your heart swells at the praise, "now we just have to hone in on it. Get better at it. Do you understand?"

You nod silently. He clears his throat before getting up from beside your bed. He buttons his grey blazer, "now, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" you nod once again.

He is about to reach for the door when you speak up again, “Papa?”

“Yes, seven?”

“Where is my mother?”

He turns around, the wrinkles on his forehead more prominent, “What?” he walks back up to you.

“I was reading a book in the rainbow room", you explain, " The child in it had a papa and a mama. Why don't I have a mama?”

“Not everyone does, Seven", he answers curtly, “Your mother died when she gave birth to you” he says before once again turning to leave the room.

“You're lying”, he stops and turns and is met with your knitted brows, “I can tell you're lying.”

You see him purse his lips for a second before he speaks up, ”Well, your powers have never been reliable, have they? Your mother is dead.”

“Did I kill her? like I did with that man and the child.”

”yes. Get some rest. Lessons start again tomorrow, Seven."

“Yes Papa”, he is out the door before you even say the entire thing.

…

Hopper doesn’t know what the hell he is doing. He just knows one thing and that is that heart-to-hearts are not his thing. Not anymore anyway. He used to be better at this, at emotions.

Ever since sarah… he’s felt like this. This empty chasm, this darkness. A black hole. That sucks in everything that is good, warm and bright. Everything he loves, everything he cares for, he swallows it all if it gets too close. It happened after sarah. And for a really long time, Jim decided to never let anyone in– which included you. Your younger self had tried, to win him over, to let his walls down but he hadnt let up. But then last year… Eleven managed to break down those walls, and just like he always does, he swallowed her whole. Enough that she had compared him to that psychotic man who called himself your papa, enough that she had decided to leave. And now he was doing it again, with you.

Hopper fucking sucks at feelings, not because he doesn't feel but maybe because he doesn't want anyone else to know that he does. The folded-up paper in his hand makes it really fucking clear. And though his palm is slightly sweaty, he blames it on the summer.

He hates that he shouted at you, multiple times.

Look at me when I’m talking to you.

That is what he had said back then, that is what he had said today. And he saw that same look on you, that deer-in-the-headlight look, the same one he saw on you when he first saw you at the police station. And he immediately regretted it. He and his inflated ego are to blame when he didn't apologize. But he will now, he is going to apologize. He is going to talk things out– have a heart-to-heart. You’re his kid dammit and you fucking deserve it.

Alright hopper, you got this. Just do what Joyce told you and they'll listen to you.

He stops at your doorstep first, knuckles lifted to knock but then he hears Eleven giggling, and he glances over to her room. Mike is still here, he thinks. Let’s just deal with them first, lets get the easier conversation over with and then he’ll talk to you– he’ll tell you everything, he'll listen to you.

But then he goes to Eleven’s room and asks if he could talk to them, and he tries he really does try but as it turns out the easier conversation still wasn’t easy at all. Hopper can't help but repeat history.

He has always felt cursed. Cursed to ruin everything as he tends to always end up doing. And in his anger he ends up blackmailing mike to stay away from his daughter.

When hopper came back, Eleven asked him if Mike's nanna (bless her) was okay. "Uh, yeah– she'll be fine kid– pretty sure it was a false alarm." He had lied through his teeth, but he doesn't take it back.

He doesn't take it back. he never goes to your room. he doesn't talk it out. So much for a heart-to-heart.

...

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things rewrite #steve harrington x gn!reader

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jenchan-writingmultis · 1 day

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Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)

(Idia's Part)

Previous part (Kalim)

─────❅─────

A/n: Out of every housewarden, I felt like sobbing writing Idia's cause of how fluffy he is, I love him so much. Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Potential Inaccuracy in Indian Tradition, Indian and Greek clothing, if ever you see inaccuracy about it, please let me know, I only did a bit of research about it. The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personalities of our beloved boys. You have a child with Kalim here!

─────❅─────

First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul

Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus

List of Villains interconnecting with each character:

Kalim = The sultan Idia = Hades ─────❅───── Idia: The underworld has always been Idia’s little comfort zone, although at first, he didn’t want to rule it, due to how depressing it gets sometimes, but along with his brother Ortho who takes care of “outside” activities, aka meetings with those overbearing gods and goddesses who think they’re better than anyone, he didn’t mind the work as long as it’s with him. So far, his duties were all just about guiding souls into whatever the fuck they want or are allowed to go, honestly if they all became lost souls, he wouldn’t give a flying damn.

One day, however, an odd discrepancy appeared in the calculations of souls being accepted—an unregistered soul had entered the narrative. Concerned, he strolled toward the portal of Tartarus to investigate. When he peered inside, a sudden flash of blinding light erupted, disorienting him. Before he could react, a heavy force slammed into his body, causing him to stumble.

“What the!” he grunted, feeling a heavy body on top of him, he rubbed his head, opening his eyes, adjusting to the sudden light-to-darkness transition.

You stirred, finding your hands pinning him down. His eyes widened in shock as he pushed you off, scrambling backward so quickly that he hit his back on the wall with a loud slam.

“What In the world?!” he screeched, his hair glowing brightly meaning he was incredibly nervous, while you seemed to be lost, standing up, you pat away the dust off your outfit, taking notice of Idia who still was pressed on the wall.

“Idia?” you went closer to him, he looked like an angry kitten, glaring at you at first but the moment you got closer he stiffens up, pushing his hands to protect himself from you.

“Stay back! You anomaly!” he shouted that it echoed around the empty room, you were taken aback, “Idia, it’s me.” you said, eyebrows knitting in frustration.

“H-how do you know my name?” he asked, looking at you confusedly, were you sent by his other brother who he doesn’t even think of one, Zeus? You look kind of angelic so there’s a suspicion.

“Idia, you’re my boyfriend” Wow point blank you decided to kill him with those words, boyfriend his ass, what boyfriend, all he knows is that he prefers to be single than have a lover, also he wants to add that you are way out of his league, there’s no way you like him that way, and this is the first time you met him, was there a camera around here? The edited laughter? Where is it? He’s waiting for that to come.

Realizing that he was overthinking again, you snapped your fingers catching his attention; stating your name you tried to see if you got any reaction, but nothing. He really didn’t remember you.

You were going to be saddened by this, if it weren’t for the fact that the tips of his hairs had a slight pink on it meaning was still a chance for you to get your boyfriend back.

Okay, you two might be misunderstanding things, while Idia was observant, he can’t think straight when he’s in front of someone, his black and blue robe being a perfect cover for himself, he even had a hoodie knitted for him to cover his hair with.

You noticed that he was taller than before, raising your eyebrow, you grabbed his arm, which made him freeze up, looking at you like you just harassed him, his sweat drops. “What?”

“Since when did you get taller?” you asked, he slides your hand off of his arm, rubbing it a bit, “I don’t know?” he answered confusedly, before waving his hand dismissively, “No more questions, I’m bringing you back to Zeus” he grumbled, his stupid brother playing pranks on him again.

“What? Zeus?” you walked faster to catch up on him when he started speedwalking away, “Y’know, God of Olympus?” he said, weirded out why you didn’t know Zeus, everyone knows him.

“Wait, Zeus as in the God from long ago?” you asked further, which made Idia stop his tracks, turning to look at you, his figure looming, he looked like a grim reaper when he stands with you before, but now it’s more evident.

“What do you mean long ago?” he asked as bewildered as you are, why are you acting this way anyways? Anomaly that popped out of nowhere and almost giving him a concussion and right now you’re giving him a migraine, what’s next huh? brain aneurysm?

“Are you not my Idia?” you frowned, looking at him closer, he exhibited a different style, he was taller, slightly shorter hair, bluish skin instead of pale.

“Your” Idia? What does that mean?

The more you open your mouth the more questions pop out, sighing he decided to cover your mouth with his hand. “Please… just shut up for a minute”

Okay, first theory! You’re not from around here, I mean you just got spat out like trash by the Tartarus and suddenly proclaiming that he’s your boyfriend, he feels bad for you, your standard is in hell if you’re dating him, you’re pretty too, a disrespect to your face really.

Second theory, which he’s leaning on more, you’re a spy sent by his brother Zeus; to make him fall for you and you break his heart and upload it to magicam or something.

If you think he’s self-deprecating too much, please, he’s just being realistic with the situation.

“First off, I am not yours” he clarified, lifting his hands as if he’s surrendering to you. “I never met you in my whole life, you’re cute but no”

Rejected by your own boyfriend, you wanted to pinch his cheeks for it, you were going to be hurt by this, but the thing is, the way he acts reminded you of the first stages of your relationship with him, he wasn’t the best with it.

“Okay,” you said, being short with him, for some reason that made him feel bad, scratching the back of his neck, he wanted to hold your cheek or hand to comfort you, an odd feeling.

“Sorry- I mean if you want to, I can act like your boyfriend or something” he murmured, his voice gradually decreasing to the point you barely heard the last words.

“It’s fine Idia, no need” not wanting to force him into that kind of thing, however, you noticed that his little fire hair started to fizzle out, panicking a bit you touched his hand, holding it, “wait I mean, okay, sure we can act”

Phew, that got his fire back up, lucky you. “Okay…” he said awkwardly coughing as he uses his tech to call for Ortho. “Ortho, can you come here?”

Ortho was impressively fast with going back to the underworld, looking the same except his clothes or rather his cyborg parts looked Greek like, it explains why you were wearing a tunic.

“Scan her” Idia said, using his eyes to signal ortho who to scan, in which Ortho grins brightly. “Okay!”

You stayed still as Ortho used his eyes to scan you, it was something that came natural for you, especially since your Ortho does that often.

“So?” Idia asked, leaning on the wall, Ortho shook his head, looking conflicted. “Nope, she doesn’t have any data around Ancient Greece, or anywhere”

“Huh” he didn’t seem surprised. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, patting Ortho’s head. “Yeah! I did another scan but there’s no indication of her presence anywhere.

So, you really were just transported by Tartarus to Ancient Greece, connecting the dots, that means Idia here is…

Noticing you staring at him in deep thought He smiles a bit, you looked funny thinking like that, pouty and all. “Since you’re really not from here, my name is Idia, God of the Underworld, and this is Ortho, my brother.” Ortho waves at you enthusiastically and he was genuinely surprised that his brother introduced him instead of himself.

“I know” you hummed, crossing your arms. “I told you already, we’re dating- “

Idia tried to cover your mouth before you spout that out but failed as Ortho’s eyes widens. “You’re dating my brother in the other world?! You mean there’s another version of us in your world?”

Oh dear, you’re in it now.

Ortho basically asked you plenty of questions, already happy that his brother pulled someone like you, you were gorgeous!

Idia was a bit happy you got along with his brother, he sometimes feels bad that he keeps Ortho in such a depressing place instead of being a normal kid outside and playing.

Also he can’t help but get flustered whenever you randomly get physically affectionate with him, he’s been trying to find a way to get you back in your world, but it’s proving to be difficult since Tartarus maybe his domain, but it’s a system that’s entirely independent from him, think of it as the pity system in his gacha games, even if you hit enough 80 pulls, it doesn’t guarantee the limited character you want.

But, as long as he can, Idia tries to make sure every time he hangs out with you is worthwhile, it’s the first time he made effort to spend time with someone, when he’s off work, he finds himself going to the guest room, asking if you wanted to come eat with him and Ortho, or sometimes, you end up in his room, playing a two-player game with him.

Ever since you came into his life, he started going out of his room more, back then he usually just… does his work and go to his room. That’s all Now he’s trying to go outside more, especially when Ortho told him that to get you back faster was by “thinking outside the box” which just meant that he should go touch some grass and let the gears in his brain think of a solution.

He didn’t really know when he fell for you, but he noticed it when you were outside with him, in the largest field that had nothing but nature around. The outfit that Ortho lend you fits your palette so perfectly, it almost made him want to take a picture.

You were admiring the view while glancing around, picking up flowers.

Confused with what you were doing he walked to you. “Hey what-“ getting cut off as you shove a bouquet of flowers on his chest, a ribbon clumsily wrapped around the stems of the flowers.

“For you” you said, smiling, making his heart skip a bit, he accepted the gift as Ortho called out for you, giving him a glance before you grab his collar, pulling him down to kiss his cheek before walking away.

That got his hair to burn bright pink, shaking from the adrenaline, he coughed awkwardly, hopefully, Ortho didn’t see what you did.

Well, he’s having a hard time finding a way to send you back home, so… it might take a while.

─────❅───── A/n: ACCCCCCK IDIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ILYSM ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #fluff #twst idia #idia shroud #ortho shroud #idia x reader #idia twst #disney twst #twst ortho #twisted wonderland idia #idia x mc #ortho

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thebrickinbrick · 2 days

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Many Interrogation Points With Regard to a Certain Le Cabuc Whose Name May Not Have Been Le Cabuc, Part 1

THE tragic picture which we have undertaken would not be complete, the reader would not see these grand moments of social birth-pangs in a revolutionary birth, which contain convulsion mingled with effort, in their exact and real relief, were we to omit, in the sketch here outlined, an incident full of epic and savage horror which occurred almost immediately after Gavroche's departure.

Mobs, as the reader knows, are like a snowball, and collect as they roll along, a throng of tumultuous men. These men do not ask each other whence they come. Among the passers-by who had joined the rabble led by Enjolras, Combeterre, and Courfeyrac, there had been a person wearing the jacket of a street porter, which was very threadbare on the shoulders, who gesticulated and vociferated, and who had the look of a drunken savage. This man, whose name or nickname was Le Cabuc, and who was, moreover, an utter stranger to those who pretended to know him, was very drunk, or assumed the appearance of being so, and had seated himself with several others at a table which they had dragged outside of the wine-shop.

This Cabuc, while making those who vied with him drunk, seemed to be examining with a thoughtful air the large house at the extremity of the barricade, whose five stories commanded the whole street and faced the Rue Saint-Denis. All at once he exclaimed: "Do you know, comrades, it is from that house yonder that we must fire. When we are at the windows, the deuce is in it if any one can advance into the street!"

"Yes, but the house is closed," said one of the drinkers.

"Let us knock!"

"They will not open."

"Let us break in the door!”

Le Cabuc runs to the door, which had a very massive knocker, and knocks. The door opens not. He strikes a second blow. No one answers. A third stroke. The same silence.

“Is there any one here?" shouts Cabuc.

Nothing stirs.

Then he seizes a gun and begins to batter the door with the butt end.

It was an ancient alley door, low, vauited, narrow, solid, entirely of oak, lined on the inside with a sheet of iron and iron stays, a genuine prison postern. The blows from the butt end of the gun made the house tremble, but did not shake the door.

Nevertheless, it is probable that the inhabitants were disturbed, for a tiny, square window was finally seen to open on the third story, and at this aperture appeared the reverend and terrified face of a gray-haired old man, who was the porter, and who held a candle.”

The man who was knocking paused.

"Gentlemen," said the porter, "what do you want?'

"Open!" said Cabuc.

“That cannot be, gentlemen."

"Open, nevertheless."

"Impossible, gentlemen."

Le Cabuc took his gun and aimed at the porter; but as he was below, and as it was very dark, the porter did not see him. "Will you open, yes or no?"

"No, gentlemen."

"Do you say no?"

"I say no, my good--”

The porter did not finish. The shot was fired: the ball entered under his chin and came out at the nape of his neck, after traversing the jugular vein.

The old man fell back without a sigh. The candle fell and was extinguished, and nothing more was to be seen except a motionless head lying on the sill of the small window, and a little whitish smoke which floated off towards the roof.

"There!" said Le Cabuc, dropping the butt end of his gun to the pavement.

He had hardly uttered this word, when he felt a hand laid on nis shoulder with the weight of an eagle's talon, and he heard a voice saying to him:

"On your knees.”

#lm 4.12.8 #the brick in brick #barricade day #les miserables #lego

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theodorenmyth · 6 hours

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Funny little fluff thing where Reader and mattheo are play fighting, like reader grabbed a clump of mattheo’s hair while Mattheo had grabbed reader’s shirt. 😭it’s a funny sight as a student, perhaps a friend of either mattheo’s or reader sees them and walks out slowly backwards cause reader and Mattheo are in a weird position while play fighting. Reader is flustered as they know what the student was thinking and tries to explain their self while Mattheo attacked them with a—

🎊TICKLE ATTACKK🎊

-🧚🏾‍♀️

im so sorry if i dont post often anymore!! im currently sick rn and ill try my best to upload 1 more fanfic today! :(

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Playful Duel

Pairings : Mattheo Riddle x GN! Reader Summary : In the Slytherin common room, you find yourself in a playful scuffle with Mattheo Riddle, a notorious troublemaker. As things escalate, a friend interrupts, misinterpreting the situation, leaving you flustered. But when Mattheo unleashes a tickle attack, laughter ensues, revealing the true bond between you both. A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : Nothing! Word count : 900+

The Slytherin common room is unusually empty for a Thursday afternoon. Most students are outside enjoying the rare spell of good weather or tucked away in the library studying for upcoming exams. You and Mattheo Riddle, however, have decided to spend your free time engaging in your usual antics.

"Give it back, Mattheo!" you shout, making a desperate grab for the book he's holding above his head.

Mattheo laughs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come and get it, if you can!" he taunts, holding the book just out of your reach.

With a determined huff, you lunge at him, but he sidesteps easily. You narrowly avoid crashing into a nearby table, spinning around to face him again. Your eyes narrow, and you see his smirk widen, knowing he's enjoying this far too much.

You take a moment to catch your breath, then launch yourself at him again. This time, you're ready for his dodge. You feint to the right, then dart left, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to pull him down to your level.

"Ow! That hurt, you little—" he begins, but you're already yanking hard.

"Give. Me. My. Book!" you demand, punctuating each word with a tug on his hair.

Mattheo growls playfully, his free hand grabbing the front of your shirt. "Not a chance!"

The two of you grapple, neither willing to give an inch. You have his hair firmly in your grasp, while he clings to your shirt, the fabric stretching precariously. You twist and turn, struggling against each other in a comical display of youthful exuberance.

Before you can react, Mattheo lunges at you, and you barely dodge out of the way, laughter bubbling up in your throat. The two of you end up in a tangled heap on the floor, each trying to gain the upper hand. You grab a clump of his hair in a desperate attempt to gain control, while he retaliates by grabbing the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer.

It’s a ridiculous sight: you with a fistful of his dark curls, and him with his hand twisted in your shirt, both of you struggling not to burst into laughter. Just then, the door to the common room opens, and one of your friends, Alex, steps in. He froze, eyes wide as he take in the scene.

“Oh, um, sorry,” Alex stammers, his cheeks turning red as he start to back out of the room. “I didn’t mean to interrupt… whatever this is.”

You quickly release Mattheo’s hair, your face heating up. “It’s not what it looks like!” you blurt out, scrambling to your feet. “We were just—”

Before you can finish your explanation, Mattheo, still on the floor, reaches out and grabs your ankle, pulling you back down with a yelp. “We were just having a bit of fun,” he says, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Right, Y/N?”

You shoot him a glare, but it’s hard to keep a straight face when he’s looking at you like that. “Yeah, just some innocent fun,” you agree, though your tone is dripping with sarcasm.

Alex raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure,” he said slowly, taking another step back. “I’ll just… leave you to it then.”

As soon as Alex is out of sight, you turn to Mattheo, your cheeks still burning. “Great, now he thinks we’re… you know!”

Mattheo just laughs, pulling you into a ticklish embrace. “Let him think what him wants,” he says, his fingers finding that spot just below your ribs that makes you squirm. “We know the truth.”

You squeal, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but he’s relentless. “Mattheo, stop!” you gasp, tears of laughter streaming down your face. “I can’t breathe!”

“Not until you admit defeat!” he declares, his own laughter mingling with yours.

“Fine, fine!” you manage to choke out between giggles. “I admit it! You win!”

With a triumphant grin, Mattheo finally releases you, and you collapse onto the floor, panting. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, but there’s no heat in your words.

“And you love it,” he replies cheekily, offering you a hand to help you up.

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Yeah, yeah,” you say, brushing yourself off. “Next time, I’ll be the one who wins.”

“We’ll see about that,” he teases, ruffling your hair before grabbing his book and settling back onto the sofa.

You flop down next to him, still catching your breath. “You’re really something, you know that?”

He just smirks, flipping open his book. “I know.”

The two of you sit in companionable silence for a while, the crackling fire the only sound in the room. Despite the chaos of a few moments ago, there’s a sense of peace that settles over you. You glance at Mattheo, who’s completely absorbed in his book once again, and you can’t help but smile.

Maybe your little rivalry isn’t so bad after all.

“Hey, Mattheo,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” he replies, not looking up.

“Thanks. For… you know, being you.”

He glances at you, one eyebrow raised. “What brought this on?”

You shrug, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Just… felt like saying it.”

He smiles, a genuine, warm smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Anytime, Y/N. Anytime.”

You lean back, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the fire and the sound of Mattheo’s quiet breathing lull you into a state of relaxation. In the back of your mind, you’re already planning your next playful attack. But for now, you’re content to just be here, in this moment, with him.

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mudandmire · 20 hours

Text

Slice of Life

Azris Week - Day Five: Slice of Life

~~~ In penance for the angst of day four, I give you day five, fluff extraordinaire, as a gift. This is just another part of my #giveerisababy2024 campaign - I'm looking at you, Azriel. As always, enjoy!! :D ~~~

Starlight

The room is stunning—the door opening straight into the open, wood floor and slipping seamlessly right into the double doors leading to a small, fenced balcony, looks out into the ocean. The glinting, silvery tossed waves crashing against the white limestone that carves the curve of the coastline. Eris has one hand holding Azriel’s bag, another, smaller one slung across his shoulders. His free hand is taken up by a much littler one; round, pudgy fingers and a deceptively tight grip.

Before it releases entirely.

“Ah!” Mina shouts, padding forward like a runaway cart with no brakes toward the open doors. “O-ten!”

Eris drops every bag—the front door still swung wide open as he hurries after her. “Mina—Mina wait for daddy, please.” He says, catching up to her quickly, but she pauses anyway, her small wings fluttering.

“O-ten,” she whispers, one hand pointing out the double doors and it’s clear, arched windows and out to the water below.

Eris crouches low, holding her lightly at her side. “Yes, I know. But we can’t go to the ocean there, little dove.” His thumb rubs soothing circles on her stomach, and with the other he snaps his fingers and the doors close with a click. He gazes at the side of her face as the sea breeze brushes gently through her dark curled hair, like it’s welcoming her. Saying hello.

Mina continues to watch the view outside, her attention fixed as a spell with her wide, dark eyes taking in everything it possibly can. One of her hands fisted at her mouth.

Eris watches her—astounded, in awe, completely, utterly in love for the second time in his life.

There’s a patch of sunlight shining on the rug in front of the doors, Mina toddles over to it and sits with a thump. Her back to the sunlight, wings shining golden, each spiderwebbing vein burnished blue and red lit up from the inside. They shudder gently, stretching out just a little to bask in the warmth.

Eris uses the time Mina spends on the soft rug with her toy lamb to pick up the bags he had dropped in the front door, and settle them in the main bedroom. Briefly, he’s taken in by the stretch of blue ocean, the green capped white cliffs that appear to cut through it. It has it’s own two doors that don’t have a balcony, more like a metal beam a foots-width and the same iron fencing.

“Mina,” he calls out, poking his head through the door and seeing her little face turn up at her name. “Come here, dove.”

She does so, standing up on wobbly knees Mina walks over with those stiff steps children take—like they haven’t quite learned what their knees are for.

Her little green dress flutters when Eris scoops her up, a happy squeal lifting from her upturned lips and he holds her close.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” She laughs into his neck.

Eris melts. “That’s me, darling.”

He moves in front of the bed, with it’s pristine white sheets and soft, down pillows. The heat of the day has seeped into the room, like bathing in liquid sunlight, and Eris pats himself on the back for thinking ahead making sure they all wear something light and breathable for the Summer Court.

Mina lays her head on his chest, the soft, dark curls of her hair brushing against his chin. Eris relents against the impulse to bury his nose in the top of her sun warmed head and inhale—Stars, she even smells like sunlight. Everything warm and precious in this world has blessed her and her little head. He hides a smitten smile in her hair and perks up when she says, “where?”

“Where, what?” He asks, following her gaze to the ocean far below them.

Her feet kick out slightly, like if she moves more the words will come to her quicker. “Where o’ten?” She begins to wiggle, fidgety, and Eris glances over his shoulder to the lovely, comfortable bed. He toes off his boots.

“Well,” he says as he lays down with her on his chest, grunting softly as she squirms away to sit up next to him. “I believe the ocean is right there.” He points out the open doors, the white linen curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze.

“Where’s go?” She wonders, her fingers fiddling with her stuffed lamb.

“Hm,” he hums, brow furrowing. “I think it goes out to Hybern, little dove. But it also goes around the whole of Prythian, way up to the Night Court.”

Mina brightens. “Nana!” She has her hands on Eris’s stomach and bounces along with the mattress.

Eris coasts a finger down the round slope of her cheek. “Mhm, nana’s there, but so is Zeb.”

“Beb.”

“Exactly.”

Eris hears the front door open, footsteps loud and tired walking in on the wooden floors. He tenses slightly, amber eyes flickering over to the door to the main bedroom until the faint scent of cedar greets him like a balm. He sinks back into the comforter with a sigh, watching Mina put the pieces together herself of who’s here.

Azriel stands in the doorway, a tired smile on his face. Mina shouts, loud and excited at the sight of him. Eris can’t help but agree with the sentiment, seeing Azriel with his dark, hazel eyes, lightening like sunrise when his gaze lands on the two of them.

The tension in his shoulders seem to melt away—whatever complication he was dealing with out front with the owner of the house seems to have dissipated by the time he’s next to the bed.

“Ada!” Her little hands grab at air, and then settle on his face when he leans down, palms flat on the bed.

Azriel’s features go molten, every harsh line of him softening along with the slump of his wings as he stares down at Mina. “Hello, little kokhavim.” He brushes their noses together gently, a fond form of greeting for parents and their children in Illyria—something he never had, never was given. He relishes in letting Mina clumsily bump their noses as she shakes her head around.

Eris laughs, eyes crinkled.

“Ada, ada—o-ten!” Mina says, wonder in her dark eyes when she points to the view out the doors.

“I see, I see it. We’ll go visit it soon, dove.”

Azriel toes off his own boots, sighing as he crawls over the plush quilts and comforters on the bed to flop down against the pillows. Mina stays in between them, guarded by the landmasses they make beside her. Her own little island, surrounded by the raging, protective sea.

Eris skates a hand along Azriel’s forearm, the sleeve of his shirt having been rolled up at some point. “Did you get everything with the owner settled?” He asks quietly, keen eyes watching how his lips press into a frown.

“I did, the ba—” he cuts off, glancing to Mina who seems entirely taken with a hung and framed painting on the wall above the bed.

“He wasn’t very nice. The paper work was ridiculous—I know for a fact we told him we had Mina with us—but it was just another add-on to his list of negatives. Don’t do this, don’t do that, keep the noise down, whatever.” He sighs heavily, elbow sinking into the mattress where he keeps his head up.

“Mm,” Eris hums, the back of his fingers brushing against the skin of his chest, the dip of his collarbone. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah?” Azriel’s grin is crooked, taking Eris’s wandering hand and planting small, featherlight kisses on each knuckle.

“Yeah.”

It’s a little thing, looking at Azriel. The strong line of his nose and jaw, the curve of his smile, the one dimple in his cheek, and the glow of his eyes with their sooty lashes. Every part of him masterfully crafted, every part wholly Eris’s.

Azriel’s smile softens like he knows what Eris is thinking.

Mina squeals, and it breaks their attention.

“Sa-baa! Sa-baa, daddy, sa-baa!” She babbles, over and over, bouncing excitedly on her bottom, her wings following the movement.

Azriel glances at Eris, confusion written in the features of his face. Eris shrugs back.

“What do you mean, love? What’s sa-baa?” He asks softly, hand flat on her back below her wings to steady her.

Azriel looks around, trying to figure out what could have inspired this sudden burst of nonsense.

“Sa-baa, daddy!” Mina giggles, shaking her lamb toy around.

“Yes, I know, dove, but I don’t know what that means.” Eris says, trying to hold in his laugh. He never realized how funny children could be when he was growing up. Humor was all but crushed out of each of his siblings, including him, one careless, callous comment at a time.

It was only the presence of Azriel, and now their little starlight, Mina, who had brought it back like bouquets of flowers in spring.

Mina keeps repeating herself, a soothing chant of ‘sa-baa, sa-baa,’ as she keeps her fist in her mouth, drooling around it.

Azriel makes a noise in the back of his throat—a caught laugh. “You mean Sasha, kokhavim?”

“Sa-baa!” Mina screeches, flinging her lamb toy around.

Eris lays his head back on the pillows, chuckling softly. His gaze finds Azriel’s, almost upside-down at this point, and he points to the painting above the bed.

“There’s a black lamb.”

“Oh for the love—Sahsa, right, got it.”

“Ada, sa-baa.” Mina whispers having crawled over to him when he gestured at the art piece.

“I know, little one. But Sasha’s back at home, safe and sound.” He rubs their noses together gently.

From where he’s laying on his side, contentment like perfect sunlight sweeps over him. He would give anything to freeze this moment, imprint it on his mind like a picture pressed in glass—but he’s okay if it moves on.

He’s more than content to find Azriel’s hand in his when he lays down on his side, facing Eris, the other cradling Mina. In fact, there’s a large part of him that wants it to continue, to see where the rest of his life takes him. Wants to see Mina grow up and learn how to pronounce ‘Sasha’ in her strong, little voice. He wants to grow old with Azriel even though it will take practically their entire life before they start to see signs of mortal aging on each other. Most of all, he wants more of this. There’s no longer the embedded fear of every dawn, not of his life or his health or his sanity. Azriel had helped him dig through his veins and bones, helped him root out every poisonous, destructive belief that was burned into him. And after helped him heal with salves and bandages and soothing, warm touch.

When Mina falls asleep in the slowly sinking patch of sunlight, Azriel squeezes his hand.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Eris’s lips quirk. “Who says I’m thinking?”

Azriel’s hand leaves Mina’s back for a second, tracing the curve of his mouth, the pad of his thumb landing on his bottom lip. “This does,” he says, “you’ve had that soft look on your face the whole time.”

Then he leaves it, lets the silence shroud them with it’s soft blanket of dusk. Mina’s soft, slightly raspy breaths heave and sigh like the ocean tide far below their open window.

Eris sighs. “Did you ever, even once in your life, think you could have this?” He says, and it comes out more vulnerable than he wanted, but Azriel is there anyway—his touch and gentle gaze all searching, all finding him, all cupping the tender aches and bringing them out under starlight.

“Never.” He whispers. “Not once, Eris. But there was a moment with you where I could see it. All of it.”

Eris inhales sharply—even now, the things Azriel says catch his breath. “Me too.” He says softly, barely louder than the crash of the ocean waves.

Azriel smiles, the soft, fond one he reserves specially for him—and now for the little girl asleep on her stomach, clutching her lamb tight, little wings twitching as she dreams. He lays his head down on the pillow, gaze still on Eris who keeps it lovingly.

“Thank the stars.” He says with a smile.

Eris’s eyes squint under the force of his grin. He laughs, breathless and—Ko-kaw’eloi bless him—happy.

“Thank the stars.”

~~///~~///~~///~~

Key:

Kokhavim - 'Starlight'

Short, soft and sweet for today <3. I'm dead serious though I need them to have a baby like I need air to breathe. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, I loved writing this like I've loved writing every prompt. Even though sometimes it's a struggle to get into the vibe, it's still so so fun, I really can't thank @azrisweek enough for this event like it's brought me back to writing - enjoying writing. <3

#azris #azrisweek2024 #azrisweek24day5 #azriel x eris #they. make me so soft im losing it #i need them to have a baby. please please im begging p l e a s e #give eris a baby azriel do it dont be a coward i d a r e you.#like what you can have magically altered hips but eris cant have a baby?? lazy. thats entirely lazy #*sobs in fond*

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bodyswappertransforming · 3 days

Text

Title: Pride and Transformation

Jake Reynolds had always been vocal about his disdain for the annual Pride Parade in his city. Every year, he would stand on the sidelines with a sign, shouting his beliefs to anyone who would listen. This year was no different, as he took his usual spot, ready to voice his protest.

As the parade began, Jake felt a strange presence nearby. A man, dressed in an elaborate costume that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, approached him. The man had an air of mystery, with eyes that seemed to see through Jake's very soul.

"Why do you hate what you do not understand?" the man asked, his voice calm and soothing.

Jake scoffed. "I don't hate anyone. I just don't think this should be paraded around like it's something to be proud of."

The man nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you need to see things from a different perspective." With a wave of his hand, he whispered a few words Jake couldn't quite catch. Suddenly, Jake felt a tingling sensation spreading through his body.

His clothes began to change, morphing into a tight leather outfit. His shirt melded into a black leather vest, his jeans into leather pants that hugged his legs, and his shoes transformed into tall boots. A leather cap appeared on his head, and he felt a cigar materialize between his fingers.

Panic set in as Jake looked at his reflection in a shop window. His face had subtly changed too – more chiseled, his stubble thicker and more defined. He exuded confidence and a rugged charm that he had never felt before.

"What have you done to me?" Jake demanded, his voice a mix of anger and fear.

The mysterious man simply smiled. "For the next month, you will experience life from a different perspective. Embrace it, and perhaps you'll understand."

As the days passed, Jake found himself inexplicably drawn to the gay community he had once scorned. The smell of the cigar, once foreign and repulsive to him, now brought comfort. He felt a sense of belonging whenever he donned his leather attire. He began to frequent the same bars and clubs he had once protested against, finding companionship and joy in the very places he had once despised.

One evening, at a vibrant nightclub filled with laughter and music, Jake found himself talking to a man named Carlos. Carlos was charming and kind, with a smile that made Jake's heart race. As they talked, Jake felt a connection he had never experienced before. Carlos's stories were filled with passion and resilience, and Jake found himself captivated.

Later that night, as they stood outside the club, Carlos leaned in and kissed Jake. At first, Jake was startled, but then he felt an overwhelming warmth and acceptance wash over him. The kiss was gentle and sincere, and Jake realized that he was no longer the same person he had been just a few weeks ago.

Jay couldn’t help but want Carlos inside of him. As they both smoked a cigar and shared it both wearing tight leather pants. Carlos unzips the back of Jake’s leather pants and begins to penetrate. Jake can’t believe how good it feels and what he loves about the experience.

"Thank you," Jake said sincerely. "I needed this."

#bodyswap #mental change #male transformation #fantasy #personality change #male body swap #male tf #gay #lgbt pride

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wishitweresummer · 2 days

Text

Fall Off The Bone

Day 5 - Worst Spot

Word count: 1632

This is the part two to the first day!! I normally headcannon George’s underarms as his worst spot, but today we are exploring something different. Loving this week. 💜

Warning: Mouth tickles.

George’s skin still crawled with ghost tickles an entire day later. He hadn’t been tickled in so long and the feeling had been so startling.

But tonight, he would get his revenge. His big plan was to attack them separately, starting with Dream. George was well aware that Dream was stronger than him, so the plan was to strike while he was asleep. If he could just get him incapacitated before he woke up, George could do whatever he wanted.

~•~

Buying the handcuffs had been a little embarrassing, but he managed to get in and out of the store without being recognized. He hoped, at least.

George was careful to not jingle them as he creeped into Dream’s room. The younger was under the blankets and not moving. George was sure he was asleep, not having heard from him in hours.

He snuck closer and climbed up on the bed slowly. He moved the blanket down a little and grinned as he found one of Dream’s hands right away. He got the open metal cuff in position against Dream’s wrist.

The proud grin was quickly wiped from his face as Dream jerked awake, almost throwing George.

“What? Huh?”, Dream mumbled in confusion before pulling his hand away and snatching the handcuffs.

“Night!”, George squeaked out before going to jump off the bed. Before he could get away, Dream snatched him back and spun him around. In a flash, he was pinned under Dream’s larger body

“What are you up to?”, Dream asked slowly, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Nothing. Just saying good night.”.

“You came to wish me good night?”.

“Yeah.”.

“With these?”, Dream asked, holding up the handcuffs. George’s cheeks flushed with a dark blush.

“I don’t know...”, he murmured. The scene drew imagery of something much stranger than what he had actually been planning. “I was just going to tickle you.”, he admitted softly. A part of him felt like a creep. Luckily, Dream started to smile.

“Oh? You wanted revenge?”, he coo’ed in a baby voice. George’s flustered state only got worse.

“Shut up…”.

“Did me and Sapnap not tickle you enough? Huh?”, Dream kept on with the voice before leaning back and yelling, “Sapnap! Come here!!”.

“No!”, George gasped and tugged at the hold.

Dream smirked meanly as he arranged George easily. His wrists were pressed on either side of his head and Dream straddled his waist, immobilizing his lower half.

��We’re in my room!”, Dream shouted as he heard movement outside the room.

“Please stop!”, George whisper-shouted. Dream only laughed.

“You were going to handcuff me in my sleep!”.

“What?!”, Sapnap exclaimed and started laughing as soon as he entered the room.”Gogy! What were you doing!”. He flicked on the light to reveal the other two’s positions.

“Nothing! Go away!”, George kicked up in a panic underneath Dream. “Let me go!!”.

“No way! You little sneak.”, Dream shook his head and dropped one of his hands down to tickle into George’s stomach. The boy squealed and threw his head back against the blankets. Oh, he was fucked. Sapnap came closer and leaned over the bed to get a better look at the situation.

“Please, no!”, he burst out laughing and desperately shoved at Dream’s hand with his newly freed one. He twisted and squirmed as Dream easily ignored him and continued to tickle his stomach. “Sapnap! Help!”, he whined, feeling desperate.

“This little idiot was going to handcuff me while I was sleeping and try to tickle me! Can you believe that?!”.

“Georgie.”, Sapnap said, scandalized.

“I’m sorry!! Okay, I’m sorry!!”, he cried out before squealing against his will, Dream’s hand having creeped down to his hips. “Don’t tickle me!”. His laughter was frantic, sensing his doom.

“What! C’mon.”, Dream rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Yeah, you kind of have it coming George.”.

~•~

Maybe George could count himself lucky they didn’t use his own handcuffs against him. But, the position he found himself in didn’t feel lucky at all.

Dream and Sapnap had worked out the day before that his worst spot was likely his ribcage, and they were right. So horribly right. They seemed to want to focus there.

George closed his eyes and thought back to a month earlier. Back to the last time the three of them had shared Dream’s bed. It had been his first day in the house and they had spent hours cuddled together talking about their futures. Dream’s bed was the only one big enough to hold all of them. He remembers laughing until his stomach hurt at one of the other two being an idiot. They had all been so delirious with glee at George’s arrival. He was so excited for his future filled with laughter and his friends and never being alone again.

When he had thought about his future being filled with laughter, he hadn’t thought about it like this.

“No! Please!!”, he begged through a flurry of panicked giggles. He was stretched out and more vulnerable than ever.

“It’s your ribs right? They’re the worst?”, Sapnap grinned at him. He got closer to George’s face, making him squeak.

“No! I hate you!”, he tried to buck, but Dream laid his much larger leg over his two.

Both of his arms were stretched above his head and held up by both Dream and Sapnap. They were laying on either side of him, keeping him down. The worst part was the pillow under his back. His upper body was curved up and terribly exposed for any tickling to come.

“I think they are!”, Dream sang, walking his fingers across George’s ribcage. He was stretched taut so the fingers teased right between the bones, making him whine and gasp.

“Dream!”, he cried. The boy smirked and turned his hand into a claw, jabbing his fingertips carefully between the ticklish ribs. George squealed loudly. He gasped for air, but could only let out a weak cry before bursting into laughter when Sapnap’s hand joined in on the tickles on the other side. He was beyond helpless to the feeling. It was precise and startling, the electric ticklish jolts shooting straight through him.

His chest heaved with the force of his breath and he tilted his head back, wailing with laughter.

“Aww…”, Sapnap cooed adoringly. There was something about the position he was in that made it hard for him to wheeze and gasp. The laughter just barreled out of him uninterrupted. “He’s so ticklish!”.

“He loves it!”, Dream laughed.

As much as George wanted to protest, he was unable to form any words. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He felt his face get redder at his predicament.

The hands lifted away and he let out a small pathetic squeak. He gasped through his unstoppable giggles and squirmed roughly, but there was no going anywhere.

“Please…no more…”, he managed to get out. He was in despair at his situation, but he sounded giddy.

“We barely even tickled you.”, Sapnap laughed and tapped his fingers across George’s protruding ribs like a spider. He burst into high pitched laughter. The touch was teasy, but still unbearable.

“Let me go!”, he whined.

“You really brought this on yourself, George.”, Dream grinned. Then, he leaned down and nudged his chin against the sensitive ribs carefully. George squealed and kicked his legs up hard enough to move the ones trapping them to the bed.

“Quit!”, he cried. Dream laughed and started to tug his shirt up. “No! Guys, please!”.

Sapnap giggled as he helped Dream get George’s shirt pulled all the way up. The boy whined as the slightly colder air touched his upper body.

“I’ll do anything.”, he tried.

“So desperate.”, Sapnap smiled.

“Pathetic.”, Dream teased. “Anyway, I’m hungry.”.

“Yeah! I could go for a little midnight snack.”.

“Some juicy delicious ribs?”.

“Yes! Succulent ribs. Fall off the bone ribs.”, Sapnap giggled through his words.

“With extra tickle sauce.”, Dream pointed at him, excited to continue the bit.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I ha-“, George was cut off when the two brought their teeth down against his ticklish ribcage. A scream tore out of his throat before he could even process what was happening. The nibbles were soft and careful, trailing his rib bones. Surely, George would explode. No matter how much he squirmed and kicked and twisted, he was kept stretched out for his tickles. The laughter that poured from his lips was desperate and helpless. The position was so devastating for the spot they wanted to torture. He had never felt anything so intense before. He screamed in protest, unable to find any words.

The two stopped when they realized how much George was losing his mind. They laughed as he gasped through a string of giggles that seemed to never stop.

“You’re such an idiot…”, Dream murmured fondly as George curled up in defense once he was released.

“Can’t believe he was going to handcuff you in your sleep!”, Sapnap sat up and stretched. “That’s a crime Gogy. Basically.”.

“Shut up…”, he whined and covered his face with one of his hands. He was a little shaky, barely recovering from his giggle attack.

“Oh, you’re fine.”, Sapnap smiled and shook his head in amusement.

~•~

In no time, George had fallen asleep cuddled between the warmth of his best friends. The excitement of the night crashed against him hard, dragging him down into a deep sleep. His skin tingled with every touch from the other two; still on high alert. But, it only brought sleepy smiles and sweet little giggles.

He was too cute to be mad at, really. He was completely tickled out; limp in Dream and Sapnap’s arms. It wasn’t long before they joined him in dreamland.

#lee!georgenotfound #lee!georgesummer #ler!sapnap #ler!dream #mcyt tickle #dream team tickle #dnn tickle #dsmp tickle #hi posting this a little early cuz I’m impatient today

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trainwrecksys · 11 months

Text

WE NEED A TRANSMUTATION

ONE WE ALL CONCIEVE

WE NEED A REVOLUTION

SO LONG AS WE STAY FREE

#it wasn’t intentional initially but it looks like he’s looking out of a window which is cool #idk this broke my phone for a little while #and the words are like there’s shouting outside #couldn’t help the sweater too he’s cozy #mphfpc #art #fanart #library of souls #the desolations of devils acre #caul bentham #spiral sys art #wights

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thebrickinbrick · 1 day

Text

Jean Valjean Takes His Revenge

When Jean Valjean was left alone with Javert, he untied the rope which fastened the prisoner across the middle of the body, and the knot of which was under the table. After this he made him a sign to rise.

Javert obeyed with that indefinable smile in which the supremacy of enchained authority is condensed.

Jean Valjean took Javert by the martingale, as one would take a beast of burden by the breast-band, and, dragging the latter after him, emerged from the wine-shop slowly, because Javert, with his impeded limbs, could take only very short steps.

Jean Valjean had the pistol in his hand.

In this manner they crossed the inner trapezium of the barricade. The insurgents, all intent on the attack, which was imminent, had their backs turned to these two.

Marius alone, stationed on one side, at the extreme left of the barricade, saw them pass. This group of victim and executioner was illuminated by the sepulchral light which he bore in his own soul.

Jean Valjean with some difficulty, but without relaxing his hold for a single instant, made Javert, pinioned as he was, scale the little entrenchment in the Mondétour lane.

When they had crossed this barrier, they found themselves alone in the lane. No one saw them. Among the heap they could distinguish a livid face, streaming hair, a pierced hand and the half nude breast of a woman. It was Éponine. The corner of the houses hid them from the insurgents. The corpses carried away from the barricade formed a terrible pile a few paces distant.

Javert gazed askance at this body, and, profoundly calm, said in a low tone:

“It strikes me that I know that girl.”

Then he turned to Jean Valjean.

Jean Valjean thrust the pistol under his arm and fixed on Javert a look which it required no words to interpret: “Javert, it is I.”

Javert replied:

“Take your revenge.”

Jean Valjean drew from his pocket a knife, and opened it.

“A clasp-knife!” exclaimed Javert, “you are right. That suits you better.”

Jean Valjean cut the martingale which Javert had about his neck, then he cut the cords on his wrists, then, stooping down, he cut the cord on his feet; and, straightening himself up, he said to him:

“You are free.”

Javert was not easily astonished. Still, master of himself though he was, he could not repress a start. He remained open-mouthed and motionless.

Jean Valjean continued:

“I do not think that I shall escape from this place. But if, by chance, I do, I live, under the name of Fauchelevent, in the Rue de l’Homme Armé, No. 7.”

Javert snarled like a tiger, which made him half open one corner of his mouth, and he muttered between his teeth:

“Have a care.”

“Go,” said Jean Valjean.

Javert began again:

“Thou saidst Fauchelevent, Rue de l’Homme Armé?”

“Number 7.”

Javert repeated in a low voice:—“Number 7.”

He buttoned up his coat once more, resumed the military stiffness between his shoulders, made a half turn, folded his arms and, supporting his chin on one of his hands, he set out in the direction of the Halles. Jean Valjean followed him with his eyes:

A few minutes later, Javert turned round and shouted to Jean Valjean:

“You annoy me. Kill me, rather.”

Javert himself did not notice that he no longer addressed Jean Valjean as “thou.”

“Be off with you,” said Jean Valjean.

Javert retreated slowly. A moment later he turned the corner of the Rue des Prêcheurs.

When Javert had disappeared, Jean Valjean fired his pistol in the air.

Then he returned to the barricade and said:

“It is done.”

In the meanwhile, this is what had taken place.

Marius, more intent on the outside than on the interior, had not, up to that time, taken a good look at the pinioned spy in the dark background of the tap-room.

When he beheld him in broad daylight, striding over the barricade in order to proceed to his death, he recognized him. Something suddenly recurred to his mind. He recalled the inspector of the Rue de Pontoise, and the two pistols which the latter had handed to him and which he, Marius, had used in this very barricade, and not only did he recall his face, but his name as well.

This recollection was misty and troubled, however, like all his ideas.

It was not an affirmation that he made, but a question which he put to himself:

“Is not that the inspector of police who told me that his name was Javert?”

Perhaps there was still time to intervene in behalf of that man. But, in the first place, he must know whether this was Javert.

Marius called to Enjolras, who had just stationed himself at the other extremity of the barricade:

“Enjolras!”

“What?”

“What is the name of yonder man?”

“What man?”

“The police agent. Do you know his name?”

“Of course. He told us.”

“What is it?”

“Javert.”

Marius sprang to his feet.

At that moment, they heard the report of the pistol.

Jean Valjean reappeared and cried: “It is done.”

A gloomy chill traversed Marius’ heart.

#lm 5.1.19 #the brick in brick #barricade day #les miserables #lego

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heartbeatbookclub · 3 months

Text

It's 2 am as I start this, and I feel the need to put pen to paper on this thought, so to speak, because it's something I think about with relative frequency.

This is going to be more of a personal musing on my experience with Doki Doki Literature Club, and why it had such an impact on me when I first played it, as opposed to any more concrete analysis, so I guess you can keep reading if you want to know more about me as a person and my overall personal relationship to it.

Something I think about often in reference to DDLC is its status simultaneously as a satire on visual novels and all of the tropes therein, as well as a love letter to that genre, explicitly. It's very readily apparent if you've played a good few "weeb" visual novels that it very much fits that bill. I think my first experience with it makes it especially funny in that respect.

To give context, I first experienced Doki Doki Literature Club like a month or two after it came out, in a Skype call (shows how old I am) with 2 or 3 of my friends. During this period of my life, me and this small group of friends spent lots and lots of time just hanging out in Skype calls like this, doing whatever we pleased, spending time well into the next morning just enjoying each other's presence and seeing what fun shenanigans we could get into on the internet.

One frequent passtime of ours was playing visual novels. Not just any visual novels, no; we went looking for the most low effort, mediocre, low hanging fruit of visual novels we could download for free. The goal wasn't to enjoy a good story, the goal was to find something amusingly bad, whether in cliched, awkward, lazy writing, or in sheer absurdity. I still do this sometimes, though it's admittedly with a different thought in mind now.

I don't think this perception we had of visual novels, being that they're typically sloppy, cringe-inducing messes is necessarily uncommon even now, but it was especially common back then. It was "weeb shit", simple as, but even deeper than your typical weeb shit. The perception was something like watching High School DxD unironically; it's just weird.

And I don't really think the perception of visual novels being that way is necessarily inaccurate; there is a very low bar to entry to actually creating a visual novel just by the nature of the medium, so really, anyone with enough passion for a project and time on their hands can make one. As a consequence, there are a few egregiously bad visual novels, there are a few really excellent visual novels, but there are a great many just sort of okay, somewhat mediocre visual novels, and lots of visual novels created with not so honorable goals in mind.

And one thing we really enjoyed was just exploring what existed in the depths of unpopular visual novels slipping through the cracks of what people saw. For most of it, we were making fun of it, but there were a lot of points where we found stories which were mediocre, but ended up really enjoying our experience with it. I think an important thing to understand with that lower barrier to entry is that it enables people who really are passionate about telling a story to tell a story that has a lot of heart, and you can see all of that heart as a diamond within the rough of the actual construction. Even in VNs with more polish, typically there are still cracks right around the edges, where you can see just a little bit of the humanity that goes into it. It's sort of magical.

And Doki Doki Literature Club was an odd edge case, which successfully played with all of my perceptions of it. DDLC is probably the only game whose story is reliant on a plot twist where I actually went in completely blind. By all appearances, it was a silly little visual novel made with no sense of irony, and I spent a great deal of time laughing at its contents, completely unaware that they were in on the joke.

And my perception of it being this way I feel like colored a lot of what happened next when I looked into it. I forget exactly when our playthrough ended--we didn't make it to any of the deeper stuff, I watched a Let's Play for that--and I forget how the whole series of events following that went, but somehow or another, I learned of some of the true nature. Namely I saw what happened to Sayori.

It reminded me of Corpse Party, when I actually thought about it.

I'm not going to go deep in depth on all of my thoughts about Corpse Party nor any of its history, but to be frank, Corpse Party reeeally sits in that realm of "mediocre, but lots of heart" to me. I don't really think Corpse Party is very good, particularly elaborating on a lot of the lore, but I really enjoyed it when I first experienced it, and it's still something I occasionally like looking back over. It's deliciously dark, and is extremely effective at creating an oppressive atmosphere out of what's ostensibly a collection of happy warm anime character tropes with little serious personality outside them.

So when I say that Sayori's death reminded me of Corpse Party, I mean that the way it paired playing the happy warm visual novel setting straight with extremely grim subject matter was done well.

Really, there were only a few other examples of this kind of media I could think of that really effectively utilized the exact kind of gut punch that DDLC did. Everything about the way the game framed itself around it, up until the final plot twist, really did feel like they were just elements of a visual novel playing themselves out. Sayo-nara really sets that tone for me--it still gives me chills sometimes when I hear it, because it sounds perfectly like what a "Bad Ending" theme for that kind of ending would likely sound like. It plays itself remarkably well into creating the setting, it really effectively feels like it is a normal visual novel falling apart at the seams.

I think that, more than anything, is why DDLC made such an impact on me when I first experienced it (which is remarkably different than the kind of mark it leaves on me now), it played so effectively with a genre I was so familiar with, and simultaneously played "mediocre visual novel with lots of heart" straight while also completely knocking "deep and terrifying existential horror" out of the park.

It's hard to truly describe, but there's just so much that feels so right about DDLC just being as it is. There's such a unique quality to the way it's written, to the way it's constructed, that goes down to its bones. It feels like that exact brand of junk food media you go to visual novels for. You don't necessarily want to think too deeply about the characters, or the setting of the story, or any of the deeper themes surrounding it; you just want to experience a nice story with some anime girls.

And then it yanks the rug out from under you, and makes you think it's junk food media with a side of deep and disturbing horror.

And then it yanks the second rug out from under that one, making you realize it's something much, much deeper.

I think something else it really appealed to, to me, was just that sense of being on the edge of the world which most indie games of that sort always give me. There are a shitload of examples I could give for this, but this sense I'm describing is the opposite of the sense which games like Undertale give me. Undertale's world feels lived in, it feels like it exists in a much, much wider concept of a great, sprawling world where billions of people live.

DDLC feels like you and the 4 girls in it are the only people in the universe. There are all of these environments you inhabit which ostensibly have other people who pass through them, live in them, there are implications of people, but inside this world, there's only you.

I think it just appeals to my desire to be transported to a complete other world for a little while. A limited space, where only things important to this experience exist, for this pure feeling of emotional catharsis. And that's something a lot of these sorts of simple visual novels appeal to; the goal isn't necessarily to tell some deeper story, it's just to present beats as they happen. DDLC takes that, and plays with it, both in a textual sense, as though these fictional characters exist and are somehow aware they're fictional, and in a meta sense, by directly playing around with your expectations and the way the entire thing is framed.

Or something like that.

Fun fact 1: Doki Doki Literature Club (specifically Sayo-Nara, still one of the few songs I can play entirely by memory) is what got me to start learning piano. I taught myself to play, and started mostly with the DDLC soundtrack (Which is very simple to play by ear, by the way, it's pretty much entirely C major.)

Fun fact 2: What initially inspired this thought was this video, which really reminded me of other visual novels we/I played that would utilize this particular style of music.

#musings #it's hard to really put into words the vibe i always get about it #it's something i'd really like to just capture in a bottle and keep stored somewhere #there's something to it that's inextricably tied to a lot of what my life was like when i was a teenager #there's a lot which is tied to what my relationships with people when i was younger is built on #there's a lot which builds the kind of person i am today both in writing and in personality #we're sort of just on this earth to experience shit #and this sure is something to experience #i think this is why i typically have such a 'meh' opinion about a lot of specific details to how things are constructed in fanworks #like dialogue and actions not being perfectly suited to how it would be written if it was canon #and i'm not saying i write like canon or that those are bad because they're not canon or anything like that #it's just like #i want SPECIFICALLY more of ddlc. so if you aren't specifically more of ddlc and are instead your own thing i'm not really that interested #not typically anyway #i feel like i'm losing a lot of what i want to say in translation #but i hope i've sorta conveyed a lot of my thoughts on the matter #as a visual novel i really enjoy ddlc and it really does play its genre well #and also as a story outside of the visual novel part i enjoy ddlc a lot #more regular analyses & thoughts coming soonish.......#shout out to me as a teenager lying on the floor listening to sayo-nara and feeling The FeelsTM for hours

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