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flokali · 9 months

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Hi i just went through your entire blog and now im having intense sagau zhongli brainrot hafjdjhdjexhsn imagine sagau zhongli worshiping fem readers chest for hours *dies*

(lying) I am so normal about boobs and Zhongli… but Anon I Am Thinking So Hard (TT) His hands are so big, his fingers are so long… with only one hand he’s able to cup your boobs (and if not then he does his best, just completely enthralled with the way some of your fat leaks from between his fingers and outside of the confines of his greedy hands) and just… squeezes while he uses his mouth on the other one, licking and kissing you until you’re sensitive from his textured (and forked) tongue… I am so okay and sane about this.

Pairing: Afab! Reader (heavily implied ; no mentions of anything other than boobs (size not specified)) x Zhongli!

Warning: Yandere, Sagau, God-like reader, cult-like behavior, obsessive and possessive thoughts, n//sft (not explicit), groping & kissing & sucking, chest/boob worship, reader is implied to be bedded by multiple characters, implied murderer (or willingness to commit), cocky Morax makes an appearance, forked tongue and cold blooded Zhongli nation rise; ask to tag!

Word Count: 2k

Zhongli’s hands are, unlike most people would be led to believe, slightly colder than the average being’s. Due to his connection to the Geo element and most natural stone’s cold temperatures, it isn’t surprising that beneath his gloves lay hands that felt smooth and chilly to the touch.

It was one of your initial observations when you first felt his un-gloved hand make contact with your own. It had taken a lot of sugary words of affirmation that he would not hurt nor taint you if he touched you with his bare hands, he’d convinced himself that you were as fragile as the carving made of crystals that’d he’d crafted, Zhongli had always feared that he may be still too much of a brute to handle you without breaking.

The feeling sent shivers up your spine, you wouldn’t quite know how to describe it, his touch was light as a feather but as imposing as the Archon’s presence, it was akin to the feeling of marble beneath bare feet, smooth and pleasant yet chilly.

His hands are also, much to no one’s surprise, slightly calloused, but not as much as you’d expect for a being once known as the God of War. The tip of his fingers were slightly thicker, as was the palm of his hand, probably from the way he gripped his weapon and the amount of times he found himself doing so. After millenia of wielding all manners of tools, it was impossible his hands didn’t tell the story as well.

Even so, his hands still managed to feel soft as they traveled across your skin. They glided across your body, up through your arms and across your collarbone; the ethereal touch leaves your skin tingling with desire and anticipation, eyes transfixed with the enchanting smile that graced Zhongli’s handsome features as he allowed his hands to wander across your bare skin, even though you were the one on the receiving end, it truly seemed as if Zhongli were the one enjoying it the most. His body relaxed, shoulders loosen, he looked at peace. His long hair let loose, his clothes replaced by silken robes that hung from his frame lazily, he was the picture of serenity and earthly bliss.

The first time you’d seen him he had been so terribly nervous, a sight completely unlike the one you’d come to know across your screen, his posture was stiff, his words felt rehearsed, and you were certain you heard a relieved sigh once he finished introducing himself; you’d later come to know it was due to a crumbling feeling of anxiety and fear of upsetting you. He may be one of the oldest of your acolytes but it was perhaps that very fact that weighed heavily on his shoulders, he had to be the best, the most knowledgeable, the most befitting servant of a deity such as yourself.

To be completely honest, had you not experienced the absolute madness that it was to be sent into a world you’d once thought fictitious and later been told you were a deity revered by the Gods of this world themselves, the mere thought of a man like Zhongli, a being who’d witnessed millenia pass him, who’d met Gods of times long since gone, nervously reciting a greeting in the mirror in preparation of meeting the likes of you would have been a comedy like no other.

However, many moon cycles had now passed and you’d learned that not only had you unknowingly become a God in a world you’d once played with but that Zhongli, the man in front of you right now, was perhaps one of your biggest devotees.

And prove his devotion he shall.

It’d become a ritual for certain acolytes, the ones of age and who bore a Vision, to engage in more physical forms of worship now that you resided with them in the same physical plane. Not all of them took part in the process, some believing it to be sacrilegious to even so much as think of you in such a lewd manner, but the ones who did fought tooth and nail to be allowed a fraction of your time and grace.

Tonight, as you lay in one of Liyue Harbor’s most exquisite hotels, it was Zhongli’s turn.

Every “worshiping session” he’d dedicate himself to a new part of your body and tonight’s focus was on your chest.

He’d been so careful in peeling off your garments, making sure not to be too rough – as in his excited state he’d sometimes miscalculate his own strength – or too hasty, wanting to savor the moment your breasts finally revealed themselves to his greedy eyes.

Once they finally are free, he lowers his hands to cup one in each, allowing himself to play with them, all while squeezing and pinching at the fat until the skin turns sensitive, he was never rough, never trying to hurt you, but he couldn’t help the thoughts of simply digging his nails a little deeper to leave a more lasting mark for the next “follower” of yours to find. However, the thought of your pained whines managed to reel him in, for now.

While he uses his hands to massage the general area, his thumbs come and lay above your nipples, making sure to circle the areola, allowing your breasts to process the touch and slowly harden your nipples without him touching them directly. He lets the tip of his fingers trace the spot, teasingly hovering them above your perked nipples before going back to knead your breasts.

You’re panting ever so slightly, the feeling of your breasts being used in such a way sends small waves of pleasure straight into your clit, it leaves you trying desperately to create some sort of friction between your legs. The man above you notices and chuckles, finally giving in to your soft movements of desperation and allowing himself to play with your nipples properly. He takes the hardening nub in between his thumb and index, slowly pinching and pulling at the skin, rubbing your other breasts as lewdly gropes the fat.

“Mhmm…” You whine, bucking your chest into his hands in an attempt to incite more. You bring your hands to meet his own and start instructing them into squeezing your chest tighter and faster, switching between tugging and pinching, kneading and softly-scratching.

“Mh’m, like that?” He chuckles, allowing himself to be guided, only applying pressure every once in a while, teasing your desperate behavior.

“Do more,” you mumble between soft pants, he’s teasing you - purposefully setting a slow pace that has you wanting more - so you decide that the only logical way to get him to stop is by teasing him back, in such a way that he has no choice but to give in and finally drop his frustrating game, “I know you’re better than this, Morax.”

“… Oh?” His expression turns into one of shock and later amusement, almost taken off guard at your words; but he knows His Idol, he knows how much you enjoy playing with him, riling him up until he loses his restraint and gives into his more primal desires.

His eyes darken, his eyelids fluttering and eyebrows turning in amusement, a grin – no, smirk – more akin to that of his younger self takes over, while his golden eyes seem to take an unnatural glow. He leans forward, fully engulfing your body with his own, until his head meets your breasts and you can feel his hot breath against your skin.

“I wouldn’t have thought your excellency to be so greedy,” he chuckles, the warmth he lets out makes you shiver, his hands trace the sides of your breasts while he begins to plant open kisses into your flesh, “mhm… ‘so needy, my love, have the others not been serving you as well as me?”

You groan as you feel him begin to suck at your tits, his tongue poking out and leaving glistening trails of his drool across your skin, it’s gentle, his forked-tongue barely touches your flesh but the ghost of its presence is enough to give you goosebumps.

Zhongli’s mouth occupied itself with your right breast as his hands worked on your left, while he playfully bit and kissed you he made sure to keep stimulating you as much as possible, his hands molded your skin, squeezing and caressing every bit of flesh his palm made contact with. His open-mouthed kisses slow down as he approaches your nipples, he takes his time - making sure to softly graze you with his sharp teeth, making sure to tease you as much as possible while never quite stopping.

Your eyes never once left his, it was overwhelming, as most things were with Zhongli, the pleasure paired with his intense gaze as he made sure to commit every expression of yours to memory would have made anybody flustered.

He laughs but it’s not mocking, his eyes glaze over while he makes a show of finally getting around to sucking on your perked up nipple, he stares at you - as if daring you to look away - while his lips finally latch onto that place you so desperately had wanted them, his cheeks are clearly flushed as he begins to flick at the nub with his tongue while sucking the spot.

Instinctively you arch your back but he quickly uses his own body to drag you down, he moves around a bit, as if trying to find the best position to latch onto you, desperately wanting to overtake your body and shield you from everything that wasn’t him.

His hand cups your breast even as he pulls away with a lewd “pop”, never letting your chest be without some form of stimulation, he licks at the areola, making sure to make a spectacle as his tongue travels across one breast to the other. He switches movement, kissing and sucking while still kneading and pulling. He’s never rough, never cruel in his touch, he’s always so delicate, making sure to treat you with the utmost care.

The feeling of his cool digits after having his warm breath on you is jarring but nevertheless pleasurable, you whine as your hands shoot up to cradle his hair, fingers finding their way onto his silky hair as you unconsciously pull him closer to your body.

He chokes on a moan, his eyes roll back slightly, if there was one thing Zhongli adored was the feeling of your hands pulling against his hair, it was one of those things he could never get enough of. The truth was that this session was fueled by his own selfish desires of being your most devoted lover, your only lover; if there was one thing in this universe he craved more than you was being the owner of the title of your beloved. He hoped that these special sessions between you two would prove that he truly was the only one worthy of such a title.

For who else could have you breaking so beautifully in their hands from pleasure alone? No one, he was the only being able to lure you into such earthly desires, he was sure of it.

His tongue on your nipple, playing with your beautiful body, his hands desperately gripping at your chest, all while he savored the proximity in which he was able to see you fall apart were blessing given to him and him alone, holy gifts from you to him, your ever so loyal servant, who dedicated his heart, soul, and body to you.

Even if you did not know how deeply the devotion he held for you went, you could tell from his aroused state, his never ending servitude, willing disposition, and obsession with pleasing you that you had, knowingly or not, enthralled a man who was now willing to do anything for you.

Just seeing you fall apart from him playing with your chest was enough to have him coming close to his peak, a ball of pleasure forming as he memorized the look of pleasure and bliss that took over your hazy features.

Your breathing is quick, your body feels hot and bothered, his touch is intoxicating, you want more of it and he wants more of you, you’re not able to even so much as forget who it is you’re with for everything he does is so clearly him; no one devoted themselves to you the same way Zhongli did and if there was such a person, he’d make sure to eliminate them before they became a problem.

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delirious-donna · 4 months

Text

Until Now [Roronoa Zoro]

an: this was born from a thought I had whilst talking with a friend about one of her favourite men. For my beloved @angelic-muse

pairing: zoro x female reader

warnings: fluff, one playful smack to the chest (his), tickling, zoro being a little constipated with feelings

Masterlist

Smack!

You eyed the hand that landed against the thick wall of muscle with incredulity. The sound echoed around the empty cabin, cutting across the noise of the playful waters that lapped at the ship. Heat poured into your palm, accompanied by a slight sting from the impact. You hadn’t meant to strike with such force; it was to be a love tap, a playful gesture, but that’s not what had transpired.

One dark eyebrow rose. You didn’t dare move except for your eyes rising to meet with dark irises that sparkled like polished coals. How would he take this? Everything was still so new…

Zoro was unaccustomed to affection. He didn’t know what to do with it at the best of times–and that wasn’t to say he wasn’t grateful–it was simply confusing. That’s where this had started, his inability to understand why you sought to wrap him in a hug the very second he walked through the door. Damn, he couldn’t even set down his swords and haramaki before you barrelled into him like he had been gone for months.

Maybe he shouldn’t have called you a pest, even if it was meant as nothing more than a joke. Perhaps he shouldn’t have clicked his teeth and patted the top of your head like you were some young pup. It was hard to navigate this new relationship at the best of times and after a long day of nothing but working out and bickering with a certain someone, it was more so.

“Is it a fight you’re after?” He asked in a faux stern tone. For once, he was the quicker one on his feet—emotionally speaking—and you were the one caught on the back foot.

“N-no.”

“You sure? Cause it seems like it is.” You squirmed beneath his intense stare, taking a step back when he moved forward all whilst your palm still connected to his chest.

You could feel his heartbeat and marvelled at how steady it was when your own was racing faster and faster. Heat washed over you, the impish tongue in your head dry and unmoving—for once. He was so tall, imposing really, and the fact there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body didn’t escape your notice either. Zoro was a literal wall of strength and he was backing you into a corner.

“Was a joke…” You mumbled shyly, annoyed that he could pull this bashful version of you out.

Zoro huffed out a laugh, amused by the puff of your cheeks and how you couldn’t maintain his eye contact without looking off to the side. Slowly, he removed the swords by his right hip and laid them lovingly on the dresser.

“I don’t know that smacking me like that could be a joke, love. C’mere.”

“Zoro. I am right here,” you wailed, head snapping up to his and only finding a lopsided smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

Sweat glistening on his biceps, the warmth of the now setting sun lingered on his skin as if it wished to cling to him forever and you couldn’t blame it. Your stare wandered freely, perhaps too freely as it left you vulnerable to his intentions. His hands—large and calloused—engulfed most of your waist far too easily.

Oh.”

“Mhm, oh,” he mimicked.

The hand on his chest slid towards his neck whilst you tilted up in expectation of a kiss, lips forming a soft cushion for him but it didn’t come.

Instead, his fingertips moved across your stomach in ticklish sweeps. Higher and higher he moved until he was tickling beneath your arms and caging your writhing body with his and the wall at your back. Unexpected laughter ripped through your throat, torrents of the giggles exploding out of you as he continued his assault with a shit-eating grin.

It was becoming harder to breathe, tears filling your eyes from how relentless he was, and every time you thought you’d managed to wriggle out of his hold it was shutdown.

“Zo-Zoro!! Stop… it!”

He was having far too much fun. If this was what came with a relationship then he could adjust to the other parts that were new to him. After all, he kinda liked that you threw yourself into his arms. Hell if he would admit it, but he adored knowing you zeroed in on his presence the moment you could.

Your laughter was beautiful—a healing balm for the scars not only visible but the ones that he couldn’t even identify. Fuck… maybe he loved you? Ah, that was something to think about another time. Right now, he focused on grasping behind your thighs and lifting you into the air.

Squealing with laughter, you anchored yourself around his neck and gasped for air. Your fingers threaded through the lush green of his hair, gaze softening whilst he walked you towards the bed you shared.

“You win,” you whispered, nose nudging his cheek until he paused.

He won the moment you walked into his life. He wasn’t going to tell you that, not now, but he knew. It was difficult to realise you were missing something until you found it. The swordsman had a goal, a dream and a promise to keep. What he lacked was a reason to stay alive after he fulfilled those dreams and promises—until now.

Zoro nodded. “I always do.”

#delirious writes #zoro x reader #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro #one piece x reader

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mrwavellswaps · 6 months

Text

Evened Out

Mitchell’s day started like any other. He got up early, ate breakfast and went to work. Went through the usual motions of it all until his lunch break then doing it all again until it was time to head home. He said goodbye to his co-workers before jumping in his car. Upon starting up the engine however, the blinking red light on his dashboard soon reminded him that he needed to make a quick stop at the gas station on the way. With a sigh he buckled his seatbelt and set off.

It only took about 10 minutes before he was pulling into the gas station next to pump. Mitchell hopped out of his car and began filling it up. Though as he watched the gas meter go up, he couldn’t help noticing a huge pickup truck pulling in the station. How could he not notice it with that massive engine roaring beside him. The thing had to be at least twice the size of Mitchell’s regular old car. As it parked next to Mitchell, he began to smell the fumes being expelled from the large vehicle as they filled the air. Most would find the smell unpleasant but for some reason Mitchell found himself being oddly allured by it without the faintest idea why.

As Mitchell stood there taking in the fumes, the drivers side door to the truck opened. A pair of worn looking work boots stepped out from the vehicle belonging to a imposing bear of a man. He was huge all over. Strong burly arms and legs. A thick stomach hidden not so subtly beneath his tight shirt. Jeans that moulded perfectly to that fat bear ass of his. Atop his head the man wore a backwards cap that covered his almost bald head. But even more noticeable was that massive bushy beard of his. One so thick and full that really brought together an air of masculinity around this man.

Mitchell couldn’t help continuing to steal glances at this man as he made his way up to the gas pump before slotting it into his own tank. That man… just the sight of him was making Mitchell’s cock twitch. When he wasn’t glancing at the man he was looking down at his own body. In comparison he was much shorter and skinnier than the bearish figure before him. Lanky arms and small legs with next to no muscle on his frame and a little bit of flab around his midsection due to his lack of exercise. Pretty much completely hairless all over besides the top of his head. Relatively boyish looks that made him seem younger than he actually was. And to top it all off a relatively small manhood that was about an inch and a half under average. Certainly nothing compared to what this other man was packing judging by the fat bulge in his jeans. The only real thing Mitchell had going for him was the surprisingly large and bubbly ass he’d been blessed with.

All his life Mitchell had admired bigger men like the one across from him. Never believing he’d be one himself of course, he just loved the idea of a big hairy man wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. Allowing him to be held tight by all that manliness. Letting it consume him until this bigger man had him pinned down on a bed and was ripping off his pants. Smacking his ass a little before said man whips out his own cock and-

“Like something you see boy?” The bear asked, having clearly noticed Mitchell’s staring.

Right away Mitchell snapped out of his little daydream.

“Oh! I uhhh… no sorry I just…” He stumbled over his words, not knowing what to say the imposing man who’d just caught him being a bit of a perv. Only as he tried to think of a way to explain himself, Mitchell quickly noticed that the man didn’t seem annoyed in the slightest. If anything he looked amused in a way.

“It’s fine if you do.” He smirked with that deep baritone voice of his sending shivers along Mitchell’s spine. “I think I like what I see too.” He added as his gazed shifted up and down Mitchell’s lean suited body. The preppy, well groomed and smart look Mitchell adorned seemed to catch his eye.

Mitchell gulped. His mouth went completely dry at the comment, not knowing how to respond. Was this guy being for real with him? What was he supposed to say in return? He’d never been in a situation like this before. It was like something you’d see in a TV show.

Before long Mitchell finished filling his tank and slotted the pump back whilst trying to hide his blush. He could feel the bear’s eyes still burning a hole through him but he was too nervous to return it. Instead he opted to quickly scuttle off inside the gas station to pay for his fuel and pick up a couple other things while he was there.

Only a few minutes into browsing however, the door rang again. Mitchell looked over his shoulder to see none other than the burly man from before as he brushed a hand through his thick beard. Once again those stern eyes landed on the smaller man as his mustache curled upwards in a smirk. Now feeling even more flustered, Mitchell quickly averted his eyes back towards the shelf of items as he swiped up everything he needed and practically made a dash for the till.

He watched as the cashier scanned his items. As he did, Mitchell glanced back to see the thick imposing man surfing through the shelves. He took a nervous breath in an effort to calm his erection that he was trying oh so desperately to hide. Thankfully the cashier was quick at telling him his total for the fuel and items, allowing him to pay so he could get out of there and get home before he ends up doing something insane.

Unfortunately the second Mitchell turned around he was met face to face with two massive pecs. Each held firmly by that tight tank top that allowed for thick curly chest hair to spill out for all to see. Having almost walked directly into the two mounds of thick muscle, Mitchell looked up to see the same man from before grinning down at him like a predator getting ready to devour its prey. He would’ve been more scared had he not been so turned on.

“I-I’m so sorry I… I wasn’t looking where I- sorry…” Mitchell mumbled awkwardly before trying to scoot around the brute. Before he could however, he felt a massive hand on his chest stopping him from getting away.

“Hold on boy. Wait for me a moment. I’ve got something I want to ask you.” The bear claimed with a sly look on his bearded face. “Assuming you don’t have anywhere else to be.” That grin of his only grew, in turn causing Mitchell’s head and heart to swell with an abundance of emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher.

The rather meek looking man nodded. “S-sure. Okay. I’ll uhmm… I’ll wait.” And with that Mitchell stood and watched awkwardly as this hirsute mountain of a human being placed his basket of items on the counter to be scanned. A six pack of beer, a few cigars, some gum and a couple other miscellaneous things like snacks and what not. A small part of Mitchell’s brain was telling him to run for the hills while he still had the chance but by this point he was far too captivated by this huge, admittedly sexy man.

Moments later the man handed over what he owed before turning around, happy to see Mitchell still waiting for him like a good boy. Bag in hand, he stomped over towards Mitchell with an almost triumphant look on his face for whatever reason as he slung a meaty arm around the smaller man’s shoulder. Before they knew it, Mitchell was being guided out of the gas station by this hairy goliath without much of a say in the matter.

“So. What did you uhm… want to talk about sir?” Mitchell asked as they reached their cars.

The grip that strong hand had on Mitchell’s shoulder tightened a little. “Oh I want to do more than talk boy.” The bearded man smirked. “And the name is Daryn. But you can keep calling me sir if that’s what you prefer.” He chuckled.

Daryn proceeded to march the two of them over towards his pick up truck where he opened the passengers side door and motioned towards Mitchell to get in. Immediately Mitchell was hit with the stench of alcohol and cigarettes mixed with the faint aroma of musk. Though all things considered it didn’t look too messy besides a couple of burger wrappers and an empty beer can on the seat which Daryn quickly wiped onto the floor, implying he’d clean it later.

“Hop in.” The bear stated bluntly.

Mitchell couldn’t help feeling oddly allured by the offer but… “H-hold on what? What do you mean get in? Where do you wanna take me???” He shouted in a somewhat distressed manner.

“Don’t worry yourself boy.” Daryn’s deep voice once again rumbling through the air in a way that made Mitchell shiver in delight. “I’m gonna take you somewhere you’ll never want to leave where all you’ll feel is bliss…” he claimed somewhat ominously.

Mitchell wasn’t sure how to respond. “I uhmm… I’m not sure I’m… uhhh…” before he could even finish a coherent thought, however, Mitchell’s eyes widened as he felt a giant hand grab the back of his head before Daryn smashes their lips together. Mitchell can only grunt and groan in surprise as he feels the bigger man’s beard rubbing against his face. He could already taste the beer on Daryn’s breath as the bear stuffed his tongue deep into Mitchell’s mouth. The latter found himself helpless to do anything. As if his body had gone totally weak, refusing to pull away from the kiss and instead lean further into it.

The kiss only concluded when Daryn decided to pull away, by which point Mitchell’s eyes were already glossed over in a haze. He could hardly remember where he was or what he was doing. Only the giant hairy man before him who was causing his cock to swell.

“Now, as I said, Hop in.” Daryn murmured only this time he didn’t give Mitchell much or a choice nor any time to think or recompose himself before he was practically picking the small suited man up by his shirt and tossing him in the passenger seat. “There you go.”

Moments later Daryn came around the other side before jumping into the driver's seat. Mitchell’s head was still spinning from the kiss. All he knew was that being so close to this brute made him feel so helpless and submissive. Like he wanted to do anything he was told. So much so that Daryn smiled when he saw Mitchell’s bulge now at full attention. The dazed man suddenly began to snap out of it however as he heard the truck's engine roar to life.

“W-what? Huh? Wait… m-my car.” Mitchell muttered as his brain made its best attempt to come to its senses with little avail.

“Don’t worry about you car boy. You’re not gonna need it anymore.” Daryn claimed boldly as he rubbed Mitchell’s lean thigh. “Just focus on me. Focus on daddy.” The deep gravelly voice of his once again ringing through Mitchell’s ears in a way that he was unable to resist. So much so that Mitchell hardly even protested as he watched Daryn reach towards his crotch and undo the zipper on his jeans. Slowly reaching inside and pulling out the thick meaty shaft he called a cock as it soon began to engorge.

“Have a suck on that while daddy takes you home.” Daryn laughed again before taking Mitchell’s head once again only this time pressing it down towards his fat dick. This time the younger man didn’t even try to resist, instead just wrapping his lips around the massive cock as he was told. Coughing and spluttering a little as he struggled to contain its sheer girth and length in his mouth while the trucker continued to push Mitchell’s head down further. “Mmmmm yeahhhhh… that’s it. Goooood boy.” Daryn groans, allowing the pleasure of a good blowjob to wash over him. He wanted to get one last one in before the big change after all.

With Mitchell’s mind now firmly under the bear's control, Daryn set off out of the gas station and down the road. It’d been so many years since he’d done this. He couldn’t help being excited for what was to come. He wasn’t quite sure if it would turn out the way he hoped after he’d *used* Mitchell but it would at the very least be interesting. And if it didn’t work out as he planned, he could always find someone else to even things out…

———

About 30 or so minutes later, the pair pulled up outside Daryn’s place. It was a secluded cabin out in the woods away from most other people. It was a surprisingly nice place that looked almost a bit fancy with the way it was built. Of course Mitchell didn’t see it at first though as he was too busy letting Daryn use his mouth as a cock warmer as he passively sucked on the giant manhood. Only pulling off at last when Daryn sat him up and said they’d arrived. Mitchell would only nod in response as he was told to get out of the truck and follow Daryn inside.

Before long Daryn unlocked the front door before ushering Mitchell in. The dazed man of course didn’t think twice and continued following behind Daryn thick backside into the house and towards the main living area. It was large and spacious with just the right amount of decor to give it some personality. But Mitchell didn’t care about any of that. He had tunnel vision for the bear that’d lured him here and that was that.

“Now just stand here while I get the preparations ready.” Daryn ordered as he left Mitchell stood in the middle of the living room like a mindless drone. He would return shortly after with a few items in hand.

Daryn placed the items to one side before turning back to Mitchell with a smile. “Get undressed.” He said with an even more commanding tone. Mitchell’s eyes rolled slightly as the bigger man’s voice vibrated through him. Then almost immediately after he began pulling off his clothes as fast as possible. Tossing his tie on the floor as he kicked off his dress shoes before rapidly unbuttoning his shirt. “Gooood.” Daryn muttered as he began to do the same. Gradually tugging off his own clothes starting with his massive boots before moving to grab the bottom of his tight shirt. “Fuck this hypno necklace was a great purchase. This is so much easier than last time.” He commented as he tossed the shirt to the ground, revealing not only his huge hairy belly and soft pecs but also the magical artifact hung around his neck.

The pair continued stripping down until finally they both stood completely nude besides the necklace still hanging around Daryn’s neck. Dirty jeans and suit pants discarded to one side. Now the difference between them was even more apparent than ever after getting to see the side by side comparison of Mitchell's skinny hairless body next to Daryn’s massive hairy one… it was like night and day! Everything about Daryn was bigger and manlier from his muscles to his body fat. His hands to his beard. His ass to his cock. God their cocks. Despite everything that was one of the most notable differences. Mitchell in all honestly had a rather small below average dick. A cute little pecker if you will. But Daryn’s was a weapon. Fat and huge. Even while flaccid it was intimidating to look at, knowing it could ruin almost any hole. Had Mitchell not been dazed out of his mind he probably would’ve been jealous but instead he could only think about worshiping the Goliath of a man before him even more so than before.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Daryn turned and grabbed one to the items he’d grabbed earlier. A bottle of what seemed to be ordinary body lotion. He cracked open the lid and poured a very generous amount of it into his hand before making his way back towards Mitchell. Without a second thought he began rubbing the lotion across Mitchell’s smooth frame, starting with his chest and stomach before working his way around. Making sure to lather up each and every part of the younger man’s frame. Before long Mitchell was practically shining in the light due to all the lotion but things weren’t over yet.

“Now it’s my turn.” Daryn claimed as he handed the lotion bottle to Mitchell. “Lather me up boy.” He demanded. He didn’t need to ask twice. Within seconds Mitchell had squeezed the lotion into his hands and was rubbing all across Daryn’s much bigger body. His small hands sliding through the dense body hair that covered Daryn’s entire body. Mitchell made sure to get into each and every crevice of the bear's body. Taking far too much pleasure in applying the lotion. He spent by far the longest amount of time lathering up Daryn’s thick hairy ass cheeks. Running his hands over his master's huge globes again and again while making sure to get right in between them. Only stopping when Daryn reminded him that his dick still needed doing. To which Mitchell hastily compiled before moving on and giving that huge bear cock and massage with lotion also. Until at last Michell had made sure to coat every last inch of Daryn’s furry trucker body.

“Good job boy.” Daryn complimented. “I appreciate the extra lengths you went to worship this form. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’m going to miss this. But I’m long overdue for a little change to freshen things up.” Daryn explained though much of what he was saying went completely over Mitchell’s head. He gave his big belly a hefty pat, enjoying the way it wobbled slightly. “Oh well. I’m sure I’ll get back to this point sooner or later.”

With that Daryn took one last feel of his body before going to grab the other item he’d place on the table. A ring. One that is embedded with multiple strange engravings that most normal people wouldn’t have a clue to the meaning of. The huge macho man took a deep breath before slipping the ring on his finger. Already he could feel its power flooding into him yet again after so many years. Just then he glanced over at Mitchell, who was still pretty zoned out, with a sinister grin. He couldn’t wait.

He marched back over towards the man he’d lured back to his cabin with heavy footsteps. “Are you ready, little man?” He sneered. “To become a part of me?” He added with a sadistic grin.

As insane as it sounded, Mitchell was as far too gooned out after that car ride to process what he’d just been asked. All he could do was go along with it mindlessly as his cock bounced in response.

“Good. Now C’mere!” Daryn shouted and before Mitchell could even react, the brutish man threw his arms around Mitchell and pulled him hard into a tight bear hug. Their slick bodies pressed against one another in an embrace that had Mitchell moaning towards the ceiling as he felt himself being squeezed by those powerful arms. And as he did, the ring on Daryn’s finger began to glow a multitude of different colours…

Daryn always loved this part. The magical power of the ring started to set in, flooding through his body. It was a powerful heat that couldn’t be contained yet made him feel so comfortable and horny at the same time. It reached through to every end of his body, filling him up with power. Power that Daryn knew exactly how to wield.

Mitchell could feel this heat resonating from within Daryn and he loved it. It made him feel even weaker than before. Now not only being so much smaller physically but now he could feel this other power flowing through the man bear hugging him off the ground with ease. It only made Mitchell want to be closer and closer to Daryn. Closer and closer and closer… he needed to be closer. The magic was telling him so. Closer. Closer. Closer.

His body acted on its own as Mitchell suddenly wrapped both his arms and legs around Daryn’s body as tightly as he could. All the while feeling an almost unimaginable pleasure surge through his body in waves of ecstasy. He was in so much constant pleasure that he’d failed to notice how he’d already blown multiple loads across Daryn’s hairy stomach.

“Fuuuuuck boyyyyy! That’s it! Hold on nice and tight! It’ll all be over soon…” Daryn grinned as his own giant dick bucked against Mitchell’s ass from below. He could feel it starting. The lotion they’d put on beforehand was helping to hasten and smooth the process along. It was something he’d figured out the last time he did this after many long and awkward attempts before that. But now he could already feel it happening!

Mitchell was still blissfully unaware of the situation, completely absorbed by lust. Had he been more conscious of what was happening, he’d have noticed that being this close to Daryn was no longer a choice. Their bodies were stuck together like glue. Or more accurately, Mitchell’s body was gradually being pulled inside Daryn’s!

Magical wisps of energy originating from the ring began swirling around the pair. As they did Mitchell only continued to sink as he rutted against Daryn in a lustful frenzy. Every movement only caused his body to be pulled deeper. His chest and stomach had already fully sunk in as his arms and legs were beginning to follow the same example. Even Mitchell’s cock and balls that’d stuck to Daryn’s midsection were now starting to phase into the brutes body. One would think that at some point Mitchell would come to his senses and start freaking out, demanding to be let go as he panicked. But it didn’t happen. He was completely gooned out by both the hypnosis and the magic that was causing this strange metamorphosis. His face looked so dumb and horny as if he were about to drool. Daryn preferred it this way though. No fighting against it. Just slutty moans filling the air until the job was done.

And that’s exactly what happened. Even as more and more of Mitchell’s body was pulled inside, he couldn’t help letting out moan after moan. Seemingly trapped in this state of heavenly bliss. Pretty soon his arms and legs had almost completely disappeared with only his back, ass and head sticking out the front of Daryn’s body. A bizarre sight to say the least. Anyone likely would’ve fainted on the spot having seen it. Daryn should know as it happened once before. One of the first times he did it infact back when he had neighbors. Someone had heard all the commotion coming from his house and came by to check only to see a scene very similar to this. Of course nobody believed them when they tried to explain what they saw and where that other guy had disappeared to as the magic of the ring had already begun replacing people's memories. That said, Daryn didn’t take any more risks after that resulting in his current cabin in the woods away from any curious neighbors.

The bear gave Mitchell’s tight little ass one final smack before that too sunk inside his body. He then moved his hands up towards Mitchell’s back, squeezed it tightly in an effort to speed up the process even further. During which Mitchell himself could no longer feel the parts of himself that’d been absorbed. Instead he was now moaning at the pleasure he felt simply being a part of Daryn. Getting to feel Daryn’s body from head to toe as if it were his own despite having zero control. Still feeling the euphoria of the magic itself only now through that massive hairy body that’d lured him here to begin with. He loved it. He needed more. He needed to immerse himself fully and become a part of Daryn just like he was always born to be! And just like that the rest of his back disappeared leaving only his head sticking out of Daryn’s chest.

Daryn grinned through his massive beard as he watched the last of Mitchell slipping away. The smaller man’s moans continued to grow quieter and quieter as his head was pulled deeper. His neck fully submerged before his face began to disappear. The final look on it was one of needy desire, groaning like an idiot up until the last second that his mouth was pulled inside. The last thing his eyes saw was an upwards view of Daryn’s big hairy pecs that he was now becoming a part of while said man stared down at him devilishly. Only then did the last of his head finally sink in. Fully merged at last.

After that Daryn took a long deep breath. He took a few actually. He could feel his body and the magic of the ring trying to process Mitchell. Like always he felt heavy after this part. Much heavier than normal. Almost like the feeling you get when you’ve eaten a huge meal. Thick and bloated as Mitchell’s DNA, Mass and Mind were being calculated.

The ring on Daryn’s finger continued to glow in a rainbow like fashion for a few more moments until finally it settled on a deep purple colour. Seeing this Daryn knew what was to come next. The change. He could feel it already. Deep inside his body was beginning to bubble and transform.

He let out a roar as the magic spread throughout his body once more only this time with much greater intensity. Every inch of his being was overflowing with energy. No matter how many times it happened, he’d never get used to this part. It was just so otherworldly. But he loved it all the more because he knew that after it he would be blessed with something new and fresh once again that he hoped he was gonna love.

Despite how strong of a man he appeared to be, Daryn’s knees began to wobble at the might of the magical power flowing through his body. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer so he used the last of his strength to make it out of the living room and down the corridor. Each step wavering with sheer ecstasy as he had to hold onto the wall for support. His involuntary moans filled the house while his cock bucked and bounced with every step, now impossibly hard. He even began to leak copious amounts of pre, leaving a trail of cum behind as he finally reached his bedroom.

Upon stumbling into the room, Daryn was just about able to make it to the mirror before he collapsed. He could already see some of the changes. Subtle differences in his facial structure, the proportions of his body seeming a little bit off, he could already tell he was getting a bit thinner but with a guy like Mitchell that was to be expected. He had just enough strength left to do a quick spin in the mirror, examining his current body from all sides one last time.

“Mmmmm god I’m gonna miss being this huge.” He mumbled to himself as he got a good look at his thick bear ass before smacking his belly and hefting his pecs. “But… Uugghhhh fuuuuckkk… I can’t wait… for my… Grroooaaahhhh… new body!” He was just barely able to finish his sentence while falling to his knees at last, cock pointing up towards the ceiling. The last thing he remembered before passing out was his dick erupting everywhere like a volcano of cum…

———

It was a long night to say the least. It was only around 6:30pm when Daryn passed out but he wouldn’t awake until the following morning and for good reason. Like it had many times before, his body was undergoing an intense transformation. The powerful ring that was causing it continued to glow brightly as it forced Daryn’s body through the changes while he was unconscious.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Daryn finally started to come around. “Fuuuck… how long was I out?” He grumbled slightly while rubbing his head. The first thing he noticed was just how sticky his chest and stomach were. Cum. That always happened. His cock can never stop cumming after he absorbs someone and everytime he wakes up covered in it. However that was far from what really caught his eye.

His body. It was leaner. Gone was the huge wobbly belly from before and in its place was flat stomach the likes of which Daryn hadn’t possessed in years. And his pecs were so much firmer now, no longer padded out with so much fat. And it wasn’t just that. His entire body felt so much lighter!

Daryn wasted no time in getting into his feet, which now felt like far less effort than it otherwise would’ve been. As he was still right in front of the mirror, Daryn immediately got a good look at his new body and he had to say he was impressed. At first he was a little worried that Mitchell was a little too far on the twinkish side but now he was seeing the results, he was certain he’d picked the perfect candidate.

Immediately it was clear that merging with Mitchell had caused to lose a lot of weight. Before he was practically a giant with all the fat and muscle he had. But now? His body was lean and toned but still with a healthy amount of muscle to fill him out. He might not have been the colossal tank of a man he was before but he still looked and felt strong.

He reached up towards his face before running a hand across it. There were similarities to both his former face and Mitchell's, allowing it to feel both familiar and not so at the same time. He was glad to see he’d retained his strong masculine looks only now they looked a bit more refined. Instead of that rougher look he’d grown accustomed to, Daryn now adorned a much more charmingly handsome yet still manly facade.

“Fucking hell. Forgot how nice it feels to have a full head of hair.” He admitted as he felt the nicely cropped hair that now sat where his trucker hat had previously been covering his bald head. “Mmmmm… and I like the feel of that too.” Daryn hummed as he dragged a hand through his new beard. Before it’d been so huge and bushy but now it’d receded into a shorter, well groomed beard instead.

“Jesus boy. Your DNA and mine went together like bread and butter. I’m a gorgeous fucker.” He muttered to himself while continuing to inspect his new face. Prodding at each and every detail. It was at the point where he could’ve stared at his own handsome mug all day had he not been too intrigued by the rest of his body to continue his exploration.

Taking a few steps back, Daryn eyed himself up and down in the mirror. Despite being much leaner than he was before, he’d still retained a lot of his muscle and that couldn’t have been more clear when he decided to flex his biceps. He grinned as he watched the muscles peak. “Fuuuuck yeahh. Good arms…” he commented while giving his right bicep a squeeze and loving how hard the muscle felt now that it wasn’t covered by fat. So much so that he ended up leaning in and giving it a kiss.

Once he’d finished groping at his arms however, his attention soon shifted towards his chest. He’d already noticed it before but now he gave himself a chance to really appreciate it by giving both his pecs a proper squeeze at the same time. They felt so much more rounded than before but the best part was the bouncing. It’d been so many years since he was able to do it but now he could finally bounce his pecs again! His face practically lit up with lustful glee as he watched the muscle move under his command. Pecs moving in almost perfect rhythm. Left, right, left, right. “God that’s so hot…”

As he’d been admiring his pecs however, he was forced to truly recognise how hairy he was now. Before absorbing Mitchell he was a complete fur ball covered in hair from head to toe. Now though his body hair seemed a lot more modest with the majority of it covering his chest and stomach. Once again giving him a far more tamed masculine aura rather than the rough unkempt masculinity he’d exuded before.

“Glad to see that didn’t get any smaller.” Daryn chuckled slightly as he reached down and grabbed his already half hard cock. The excitement of getting to explore his new body had already caused some blood to pump into his prised organ. With Mitchell having had such a small dick, Daryn was worried he might’ve lost a bit of his size in the transformation but it seemed he was safe. Despite having gotten leaner, his cock was just as fat as ever, hanging heavy between his legs. In fact, without that big belly in the way, his cock looked even bigger and more impressive than before. Especially as it grew to its full size.

He couldn’t help shivering as he gripped it tightly, feeling just how firm it was now. “O-ooohh fuck. It’s soooo… fuckin hard.” It might’ve sounded like a given but Daryn’s body had been reaching its mid 40’s before. However after merging with a young guy like Mitchell it was clear that he’d lost a few years alongside all that fat. If he were to guess, he’d probably be about 32 physically now. That said the youthful vigor that’d slowly been slipping away from him had returned in kind with a dick that was not only huge but also ready to fuck and nut at a moment’s notice!

While jerking himself off, Daryn couldn’t help turning to the side so he could get a decent look at his ass and he couldn’t have been happier. Instead of the fat bearish butt he had before, it was now much more rounded and bubbly. Yet still thick and easy to jiggle of course. Something he couldn’t help doing with his spare hand which only made his cock pulse harder and harder.

Turning back to face the mirror dead on, Daryn grinned with triumph. Sure he’d loved being a bear for all those years but this new form was everything he could’ve asked for. Strong and muscled. Tight in all the right places. Drop dead fucking gorgeous. Every inch of his new body was perfect.

“Grrrahhhhh… I’m so fuckin handsome!!” Daryn shouted before stumbling forwards towards the mirror. Without a second thought he grabbed onto the sides of it and ran his tongue along the mirror before leaning in and beginning to kiss his reflection. The whole time his cock was bucking while smearing pre-cum against it.

This was something Daryn did every decade or so. It was like a tradition now. Everytime he was getting bored of a certain look or was looking for a way to shave a few years off, he would use the ring. This was now the sixth time it’d happened. His sixth victim. Everytime he absorbed someone, their DNA mixed with his own to induce a transformation. However, their minds, instead of merging with Daryn’s, would always get broken down and lost during the integration. Usually churned away into nothing as they got pushed down into his balls ready to get shot out in a massive load later on. Meaning Daryn never had to fight for control. A perfect outcome for him really.

“God yeahhh… that little bitch had no fucking clue he was gonna become part of perfection.” He groaned as he squeezed and tugged at his cock while taking a few steps back. “Thanks for the DNA Mitchell but I’m afraid my need for you has run out.” It was strange. Mitchell had never mentioned his name to Daryn but after being absorbed Daryn just knew. “Once I’ve splattered you across my fucking mirror, I’m gonna head out into the world and I’m gonna FUCK so much ASS!” He claimed boldly, thrusting his hips lewdly as he did.

Daryn went on a horny spree of feeling up his body. Touching every muscle. Rubbing his hands across every hair. Showing off his new form in so many different ways by posing in the mirror and even taking a few pictures of himself between pumping his impressive dick. He even went as far as to set up his camera so he could record himself jiggling his own ass and shaking it like a slut. This quickly led to him watching the video back and jerking off even harder while moaning about how he wished he could fuck his own ass now. Saying how juicy and fuckable it looked. He couldn’t hold it back any longer.

With one final squeeze of his cock, Daryn let go of his huge 9 inch manhood and tossed both his arms up into an impressive bicep flex before spewing one of the fattest loads he’s spilled in years. His dick was like a hose as it spayed cum uncontrollably around the room. Coating the floor, bed, mirror and bedside table with his nut.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Daryn resigned himself to clean up. He wiped up as much of his mess as possible before heading into the shower. Switching it on and allowing the hot water to cascade over his form.

Everything just felt so right. Of course he was gonna miss being so huge but like he’d thought before, if he ever got tired of the lean muscled look, he could always try packing on a few pounds again. Or maybe the next time he decides to absorb someone, he finds a thick hairy daddy to take instead. Either way he was certainly going to enjoy this new muscle daddy look he had going on in the meantime.

That said, now that Daryn had a clear mind, he had to admit he was liking this new form of his a hell of a lot more than he expected. Even as he lathered his body up with soap, he couldn’t help lingering on certain areas. Rubbing and teasing himself as he made sure to clean every crevice. Especially between his ass. His hand just couldn’t help lingering between his cheeks as his fingers tickled the entrance to his hole. It certainly didn’t feel as right as it once did. That somehow merging with Mitchell had loosened it a bit. It felt good though. Really fucking good. Like he just wanted to…

“Ughhhh fuuuckkk…” he groaned while slowly slotting a finger inside himself. It felt surprisingly good considering he hadn’t even thought to play with his hole in years. Almost all the guys he’d absorbed up until now had been very dominant manly men that would only ever top so this was another unfamiliar feeling. “Maybe I’ll try getting fucked after all…” he mumbled. Of course he wanted to remain a top for the most part but the idea of getting a big dick up his tight muscle ass every once in awhile suddenly began to sound pretty appealing

By now the magic of the ring must’ve already shifted reality. The rest of the world would have thought he was always this way and that Mitchell never existed. Which also meant that as soon as he was done showering he could head down into town and hit up some of the gay bars. With his smooth husky voice and dashing new looks, he was certain he’d have another dude in his bed by the end of the night. He’d have them worshipping his hot fucking body before bending them over and filling them to fucking brim with cum.

All in all Mitchell was the best coincidence he never asked for. He might have been fine as a massive bear of a man, but now this new self was brimming with possibilities. Top, bottom and everything in between, Daryn couldn’t wait to see everything in store for him.

Thanks to all of you for your patience. This story has been quite overdue but I’m happy to finally have it out! Hope you all enjoyed it. It’s was quite the ride to write and was just as fun. I’m equally as excited for the next story on my list to be written up!

#male transformation #male merge #absorption #male hypno #male hypnosis #weight loss #age regression #trucker #hairy #jock #bear #magic #permanent

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megalony · 8 months

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We Made It

This is an Evan Buckley (Buck) imagine, it's probably my longest one yet I had so much fun with the fluff and angst in this. Thank you all for the 911 requests I'm slowly getting through them all. Any feedback would be great.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: Christopher joins the Buckley family out for a day trip to the pier but when a natural disaster hits, they all fight to find each other and stay together.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Eddie, everything okay?" (Y/n) leaned against the door and slung her bag on her shoulder.

A bright smile lit up her face and took Eddie by surprise but it helped to wash away the anxiety he had pooling in his stomach. He hated to turn up unannounced, after all he hadn't messaged or called either her or Buck to let them know he would be dropping by, but it was an emergency.

"Yeah, sorry I know I should have called… I need a favour."

"Sure, what's up?" (Y/n) opened the door more to welcome him in but her smile turned into a lopsided smirk when Eddie moved to the side and revealed the small figure hiding behind him.

Christopher.

A broad smile lit up his cheesy face, his curls were flopping all about his head and he had his backpack on.

"Did you get called in?" (Y/n) kept her voice quiet but Eddie's pursed lips and the small nod of his head told her all she needed to know. Eddie wasn't supposed to be on shift today but he'd been called in and he couldn't refuse. And he didn't want to keep imposing on his Abuela and asking her to have Christopher because even though he was a golden boy and never played up, he was still a handful.

"I get it if you can't have him, I just didn't know who-"

"Hey, he's always welcome here. And it just so happens we're off out on a road trip," (Y/n) leaned down to Chris's level and gave him a smile. "Fancy a day out with the Buckley crew?"

"Yeah!"

(Y/n) loved the way he smiled and adverted his eyes to try and hide just how happy and excited he was. She moved out the way and ushered him inside, letting him hobble his way through to find out where Bella was hiding. He was a great kid to look after and (Y/n) knew Eddie was always happy to take care of Bella if they ever needed or asked him to. The kids got along well together despite Christopher being eight and Bella being only three.

"You're a lifesaver, thank you." Eddie leaned forward to give her a quick hug before he glanced at his watch. He had to run before he was officially late for the first time.

"No problem, text when you want him back."

"Thanks."

He had arrived at just the right time, ten minutes later and he would have missed them. They had decided a little road trip was in need to cheer Buck up while he was still off work, waiting for a date when he could go back. He had been glad of the break which meant he could spend time with his girls.

While his leg had been in a cast, (Y/n) had helped him up and down the stairs, helped him shower and cook but the best part was Bella trying to look after him. Evan had sent thousands of pictures to the team of Bella trying to feed him, give him drinks, rub his head, draw on his cast and then the pictures where she fell asleep on him to 'keep him company'.

His daughter had been his saving grace, spoiling him and doting on him and Evan got through each day because of his two girls.

Now he was back in action, they thought a day trip out might be good for them all and Christopher was going to add to the excitement.

"Evan, babe we have an addition to the trip."

"Who?"

Walking down the stairs with Bella perched on his hip, Evan looked at (Y/n) before he looked around the apartment and a grin lit up his face when he saw a familiar flop of curls sat in front of the tv.

"Did Eddie need to work or something?"

"Yeah, do you mind?"

"Course not, he can go on the big rides with me. Chris, are you ready for the best day out ever?" They had already decided this morning that they would stop by the pier in the afternoon. It was the perfect place to play games, have some fun and food and there were a lot of kiddie rides for Bella. Evan waved his arm out to coax Christopher over to them since they were all ready and packed up to go for their day out. But his eyes turned back to look at Bella who was cuddled up into his chest.

She had her light sandy hair put up in two little pigtails and she was wearing a yellow jumpsuit with a big smiling sunflower in the middle. Both her hands moved to pat Evan's chest lightly and when she looked up at him with those wide eyes, he could feel his heart melting on the spot.

"What 'bout me? Will you go on stuff with me, daddy?"

"You know I will sweetheart." He moved his hand to cup the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss to her temple before he reached down to pat Chris on the back and guide him in front of them.

"Alright, off we go."

***

"Bella, babygirl I do need to breathe, you know?" Evan gruffed but his mixed expression gave away the fondness he was trying to supress. He squinted up at his daughter and rolled his lips together but the slight curve at the corner and the softness in the crease of his eyes showed he wasn't telling her off.

She was stood up on his thighs with both arms tightly bound around his neck and her chin resting on top of his head. It was endearing and Evan loved her cuddling up to him but he still needed to breathe and she was making it hard leaning against him like this and holding his neck with quite a lot of force.

She let out a small whine in response but loosened her arms and kissed his hair repeatedly before she moved her hands to swiftly hold his chin and tilt his head up towards her.

When she puckered her lips, Evan grinned madly and pushed up to give her a small peck, making a loud 'mwuah' sound that always made her giggle.

"Smile, I'm gonna send your dad a picture, show him how much fun you have with us." (Y/n) poked her tongue out between her teeth as she smiled at the three of them sat opposite her at the table. Bella had been sitting patiently with her waiting for the boys to finish the ride they went on but as soon as they came off, she clambered over the table and onto Evan's lap.

Evan tilted his chin up and grinned with one arm around Bella who smiled sweetly and pressed her cheek on top of Evan's head. And with his other arm, Evan reeled Chris into his side who held up the cotton candy he'd just got and started to laugh.

(Y/n) snapped the picture, catching in the food and drink splayed out on the table so show Eddie Chris was having a good time and had had his lunch and a rush of sugar.

"Alright team, what's next?" (Y/n) put her empty drink on the tray of rubbish next to her before she looked at them.

They had driven out and gone to a beach half an hour away, then they came round to the pier. Evan had gone on a lot of rides with Chris, (Y/n) took Bella on the smaller rides and all of them went on the waltzers which made (Y/n) feel sick. But they still had the ferris wheel to do, the water rides on the other side of the pier and all the games and stalls to try out. Dinner was ticked off their list though and after the pier they had the toy shop to head to before they went home.

"We need to win something," Chris stuffed the last of the cotton candy in his mouth and looked between the two people he thought of as family. His dad was always referring to them as uncle Buck and auntie (Y/n).

"Yes we do, what games are you good at?"

(Y/n) strapped her bag over her shoulder and rested a hand on Chris's shoulder when he slipped his hands into his crutches and started to look for a stall with good prizes.

"Come on babygirl, let's go win a load of prizes." Evan held Bella's hands and effortlessly hoisted her up until she was sat on his shoulders. He held onto her waist and she held his lower arms rather loosely considering how tight she had held him previously. But she was used to sitting on his shoulders, Evan preferred to carry her or hold her up like this because he was too worried of her running off and losing her in a crowd.

At least with Chris there was no risk of them losing him here.

For the duration of their walk around the pier, (Y/n) kept her hand looped in Chris's backpack strap to make sure he didn't wander too far or risk bump into people.

"Buck, this one." Chris turned to look back at him with a lopsided grin and squinting eyes, his way of looking sweet and cute to get Buck to agree and play the game of throwing balls at tin cans to try and win a stuffed teddy.

Evan turned his head and nodded but when he went to lift Bella over his head and put her down, she all but screamed and grabbed his forearm but her other hand dug into his short hair. She pulled his hair between her fingers to try and stop him from picking her up. Bella didn't want to move, she wanted to stay right where she was, safe and sound on his shoulders where she didn't have to move and she could be close to her dad.

"Ow that's naughty! No, you're coming down now girlie." Evan winced and grunted while he hoisted her over his shoulders and planted her down on her feet next to (Y/n) who quickly grabbed her hand. But Evan knew he wouldn't be able to stay mad at her because she was already biting her thumb and her eyes were welling up, ready to start crying because she had been told off.

Bella swayed on her feet, still biting her thumb and clenching (Y/n)'s hand in the other while she watched the boys. She would stay silent until Evan smiled at her or said something to her and she knew she wasn't in trouble anymore.

"Buck, I won!" Chris pointed at the enlarged teddybear that was about his size and weight which he couldn't carry all by himself. He watched Buck clap and give praise and move to grab the teddy but when Chris turned around, he noticed Bella was still pouting and looking uncertain. "Bella carry it,"

Evan froze for a moment, glancing between the two kids before his expression softened and he motioned for Bella to come over to him. When she stood in front of him, Evan leaned the teddy over her shoulders but kept hold of it by the arms. Letting her believe she was actually carrying it when really it was more like a hat resting on top of her head.

It was just the thing to make her smile and giggle and add a skip in her wobbly steps until she was prancing like a pony with Evan slowly walking behind her, going a lot slower than he normally would.

They all followed Chris towards the end of the pier until they could sit down on a bench. (Y/n) sat down on the edge next to the teddy bear that they put down on the floor, Bella stood up on the bench next to her wedged between her and Evan. And on the end, Evan picked Chris up and let him stand up and hold the barrier, keeping a tight grip on his shirt to make sure he didn't wobble over the side.

What a phone call that would be to Eddie, having to explain Chris had toppled over the side of the pier and took a swim.

"How you feeling?" Reaching across Bella who was transfixed on watching the tide, (Y/n) leaned over and brushed her fingers against Evan's cheek, trailing her fingertip down his jaw when he smiled and tilted his head to the side to look at her.

"I'm okay, I feel a lot better- oof," Evan closed his eyes and bent his head forward when Bella started to sway from side to side and reached her arm out on top of his head to steady herself on him. The amount of bruises Evan got from Bella was unreal, he could come home from the station unscathed without so much as a water mark and then the next day he would be littered with scratches and bruises from his little monster.

"You'll be able to go back to the station, the blood thinners aren't permanent, babe." (Y/n) continued to brush his cheek and leaned over to peck his lips, smiling against his lips when they could both hear Bella humming to herself. She could see just how far Evan had come these last few months, he had had three surgeries on his leg, did physio and exercises every day and he had followed the doctor's advice to the dot. All the hard work he had put in wasn't going to be for nothing, (Y/n) just knew it.

"How you doin' Chris? What are we gonna do next?" Evan looked over to his right and squinted up at him when the sun beamed down on them. There were still a few games they could play and they all wanted a go on the ferris wheel which Bella was the right height for. But it was up to the kids and since Bella didn't care what they did, it was down to Chris.

"Hook a duck!"

"Alright-"

"Daddy," Bella patted Evan's hair like she was smoothing it down and he turned to look back at her, smiling up at her until he saw her furrowed brows and the way she was bending her knees like she was trying to do some kind of funny dance.

"What, babygirl?"

"Where did water go?"

Both Evan and (Y/n) frowned at one another and quickly moved to turn around and peer over the side of railing the kids were clinging to. What was she talking about? There was a whole sea out there, why did she suddenly think the water had vanished? She had been watching it for the past few minutes, it couldn't have vanished before her eyes?

Something burned down in (Y/n)'s stomach and she could feel her lungs popping and deflating as anxiety broke out in her system.

It wasn't the lack of water at the bottom of the pier that caused her worry, it was the turbulant view of an appending wave that surged her panic. That was larger than the usual surfing wave that occured on this beach. (Y/n) had never lived anywhere where this had happened and she'd never been so close to see one in person.

A tsunami.

Before she knew what she was doing, (Y/n) batted her hand out until she found Evan's bicep and she dug her nails into his skin, clenching her fingers around him like he was somehow going to make this better or turn the wave away and demand it stop where it was. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to do but she couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

"Evan…" His name came out nothing more than a broken sound that she could barely hear but she felt the way his muscles tensed and he shot up from the bench without tearing his gaze away from the water.

"Get off the pier," His voice was barely above a whisper but he was getting into action mode already. "Get off the pier! Move back! Get off the fucking pier!"

His voice sounded like a siren to everyone else who had gathered round to see like it was some sort of beautiful spectacle instead of a harrowing omen. They shouldn't be gathering round to watch, couldn't they see how massive that wave was or work out what that implied? They all needed to leave, not rush closer.

Chris gasped but he didn't have time to react or talk when Evan hastily grabbed him and tossed him over his shoulder. There was no time for Chris to walk or he wouldn't get far and they needed to be as far away from the shore as possible, they needed to be in-land. Evan kept his arm secured over Chris's back and he pushed away from the bench, reaching his free arm out for (Y/n).

Terror had hold of (Y/n) by her heart and it made each breath and each pulse of blood feel horrid and broken but she had to push through it. With trembling gasps, (Y/n) hoisted Bella into her arms, holding her face against her shoulder and her other arm tightly wrapped around around her small waist. She kept her daughter cocooned to her chest and ran forward as Evan grabbed her elbow so he didn't lose her in the rush that was going to come.

The pair of them bolted back across the wooden pannels, aiming to keep going and going until the inevitable flood overtook them. If they could at least get to the end of the pier then it would be a little better but Evan doubted it.

And when he turned to glance behind him, the water was almost at the bench they had just left.

They were running out of time.

"Here! Down here!" Doubling over, evan placed Chris down behind a vacated shall and as swift as anything, he grabbed (Y/n) by her hips and hoisted her over the side before he jumped across.

(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and buried her face into Bella's hair who was whimpering against her chest, unsure what was happening and why everyone was suddenly screaming and panicking. She pressed her back up against the wood and felt Evan kneel down beside her and hold his arm around her while his other arm deadlocked around Chris.

They had to stay together.

"Oh God, Evan…" (Y/n) nudged her forehead into his shoulder and felt his arm tighten around her waist until it felt like an iron bar was grafted into her skin but it was comforting. It was the only thing grounding her racing thoughts from making her pass out.

"I won't let go babe! I won't I swear-"

He couldn't breathe. He had underestimated just how powerful the water was going to be when it hit. Wood broke and splintered on impact and each broken pannel hit Evan in the head, the arm, the legs and his back like he was being beaten black and blue.

It didn't matter how tightly Evan kept his arms around his family, he couldn't hold them all or keep them safe at his chest.

When the water hit, Evan got twisted and lifted from the floor and that was it. He could feel his fingers scratching into Chris's shirt but (Y/n) left his arm after maybe five or six seconds at most. The water lifted Evan up instead of dragging him down like he expected and it gave him a chance to gasp for a deep breath before something smacked into his foot and toppled him into a gushing wave. He seemed to spin in a circle and race down towards the floor like a diver reaching for the ocean.

A panel of wood smacked into his forehead right across his eye and that was when his world turned black.

Something akin to a bubbling scream gurgled at the back of Evan's throat and he was sure if he could he would have been sick. Everything was water, his lungs were full of water, his clothes were weighed down by water, the current was holding onto him with deep imbedded claws and dropplets were rolling down his eyes.

A tree branch smacked right into his lower sternum and stomach, knocking the water out of his lungs and letting him take in a strangled gasp and open his eyes. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear but when it did, he started to scream.

Where were they?

Why wasn't he back at the pier? How far had the water dragged him? Evan couldn't tell where he was, the water was at a third story level, covering the road, the landmarks, the signs and the building names and distinctions. All he could see were towering buildings, floating cars, broken glass, bodies and unworthy items floating beside him. Everything from chairs to lamps flew past him at top speed and gave him no direction of where he had turned up. All he knew was he was no longer at the pier.

"C-Christopher! (Y/n)! God, Bella? Bella baby where are you?!" Each word became clearer when he took deep ragged breaths but his voice rose two octaves until it sounded like a teen who hadn't hit puberty yet.

Chris didn't have balance or coordination or enough ability to find something to cling to and stop from floating away into the next state. Evan didn't even know if he could swim. And (Y/n) was somewhere around here, she had to be but if she was injured she couldn't swim and if she could swim, what if she hit something?

What if she didn't have hold of Bella anymore? She was three, she couldn't swim, she could barely tolerate getting a bath. This was far too powerful for her to stay afloat or swim or avoid getting scraped or punctured by something.

Where was his baby girl?

"No, God no," Evan let the tears fall, he let awful, hoarse screams scratch past his salty lips as his eyes burned from the beating he had taken and the tears he was shedding. He couldn't get the picture of his daughter floating past him out of his mind. Her little body floating limply past him, never to be seen again. Evan wouldn't survive if he couldn't see her face again or hear her laugh or her calling his name.

Evan screamed all their names again and again until he couldn't do anything but gasp for air and spit the water that flooded his mouth when he tried to push up higher on the tree branch that was currently keeping him afloat.

"Buck! B-Buck!"

"Christopher!" Evan looked around wildly, blinking away the droplets clinging to his lashes but he couldn't see where Chris was. Until he squinted into the distance and noticed a small head and a pair of arms clinging to a telephone pole.

One down, two to go.

"I'm coming! Stay there, hold on bud I'm coming!"

Bringing his legs up, Evan awkwardly shuffled over the branch and dived back into the current that was thankfully heading towards Chris and not away from him. He seemed to be sat right in the middle of the current that flew him down the middle of whatever street he was on.

As soon as he was within reach, Evan stretched out in front of him like someone desperate to find the light in the darkness and when his fingers barely touched Chris's shoulder, Evan grabbed him. He punctured his fingers into Chris's shoulders until he was sure he had bruised him and he pulled him from the pole.

Evan turned onto his back and lifted Chris onto his chest so he could still breathe and stay afloat but his head turned madly to try and find somewhere to move. They couldn't stay floating through the street, it was too dangerous. They had to get somewhere high and safe and wait until the water lowered enough to walk through or help arrived.

Did the fire and rescue come out during a tsunami? It was a natural disaster, surely they had to come out, but how would they get here, a truck couldn't float?

"Truck, truck." Chris waved his arms out beneath the water to stay floating on his back but he tried to splash towards the truck that was elevated and sat on a slant. It was resting on something but he didn't know what.

"Good, good boy! Alright l-let's go there."

Moving yet again, Evan hooked his arm tight around Chris's waist and tilted until they were both trying to stand up in the water so they could kick, bat and shimmy towards the truck.

He wasn't sure where the effort or the energy came from, but they swam like eels through the water until Evan could grab the open window and reel them in.

"Up, up."

When Chris grabbed the rail on top of the truck, Evan moved him up onto his shoulder so he could keep him high above the water and so he could put his feet into the windowsil and lift them both up. Chris let himself go floppy so Evan could push him over the rail and get him safe on top before he flopped on his chest next to Chris, exhausted.

"Are you okay?" Evan crouched on his hands and knees, coughing up the last bit of water and trying to take a second to make sure he could see no injuries on Chris. He couldn't be telling Eddie he had gotten his son hurt during a tsunami and if Chris was badly hurt, Evan wouldn't be able to cope in this situation.

But when Chris smiled and shook his head, Evan merely gasped. How could he be smiling at a time like this? Wasn't he afraid of what just happened? Shouldn't he be crying and screaming and shouting for his dad, demanding help arrive and take them away?

He looked like he had a black eye coming along and there would no doubt be scratches and bruises but he didn't seem like he was badly injured and that was a big weight off Evan's shoulders.

Evan himself felt okay. His head was pounding, blood was starting to dribble down into his left eye along with the water seeping off him. his ribs hurt, his arm was scratched and he was sure a few lower ribs were either fractured or broken. But he was relatively okay, he could run off the adrenaline that was now coursing through his veins. He would be functional until he could find out what happened to the rest of his family.

Tears started to flood Evan's eyes until he could barely see when Chris leaned forward and cupped his face in his hands and gently patted his cheek.

"You're hurt." Chris tried to smear the blood off Evan's forehead and the action made Evan sob.

"I'll be alright, buddy."

"Auntie (Y/n) and Bella, are we gonna find them?" Chris started to brush away the tears falling from Evan's eyes that turned a darker shade of blue and started to twitch.

"God, I hope so."

***

"Daddy!"

"I know you want daddy, baby, I know. We'll find him," (Y/n) could barely keep her voice level but she had to try and sound promising and encouraging. She had cried too much already.

If she cried any longer Bella would realise she was lying. How was (Y/n) going to know if they would find Evan and Christopher unharmed and alright after this? She might find one and not the other. She might have to give Eddie the worst phone call of his life and break his world. She might find Evan too late and shatter her own world entirely.

It had been a miracle that (Y/n) had stayed so close to Bella. After Evan drifted, (Y/n) realised Bella had been sucked out of her arms and carried off further ahead of her. A branch punctured into the bottom of her chest and a chunk of metal smacking into her forehead had done nothing to deter (Y/n) away from chasing her baby through the water. She watched her daughter bob up and down through the stream, gasping and struggling to stay afloat until she got tangled up in a bush that stopped her from going any further downstream.

(Y/n) had managed to grab her and use some nearby rope to tie Bella to her chest so they couldn't separated again.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) folded her arms over the roof of the car Bella was perched on and she pressed her forehead on her arms. If she was going to cry she needed to smother her sounds and not let Bella see so she didn't panic and get upset again too.

"No, daddy!" Bella's tone changed and she started frantically pointing, her sobs now ceasing into nothing.

"What?"

Turning around as much as she could, (Y/n) almost screamed when she saw a familiar figure looming in the distance. How on Earth did Bella know that was Evan? From way over here, he looked like a broad figure standing on top of something. But then again, his hair was always dark and flat when damp and he had wide shoulders, thick arms and a reduced torso. He was distinctive, thank God.

"Evan? Evan, please, please be him!" (Y/n) tried screaming his name but it only made her injured side ache and her lungs burn. She let bella continue to scream at the top of her lungs and wave her arms to direct him over to them.

A fire burned inside (Y/n)'s knotted stomach when she watched him dive into the water. It had to be him, what stranger would answer to his name and head their way? They weren't exactly in distress, they weren't being carried away by the water they had managed to find somewhere to stay safe for the time being.

"Daddy!"

"I'm coming, baby it's me! (Y/n), (Y/n)!" Evan flung a floating shopping trolley to the side and pushed another wooden beam out of his way as he coarsed through the water towards his girls. He could feel Christopher's arms tight around his neck and his weight pressing down on his back, reassuring him that the eight year old was alright and still with him.

He had started to give up hope of finding his girls, it was getting harder and harder to stay positive around Chris until he heard a distant crying. He had been looking round and round for what felt like hours, then when he and Chris moved over to a broken building that had been safe to stand on, he heard the voices get clearer.

There they were. (Y/n) had managed to stay with Bella or at least follow her and find her again and when Evan reached them, they would all be together again.

As soon as Evan was within reach of the dark blue BMW the girls were clinging to, he scrambled onto the boot and manouevred Chris from his shoulders to the top of the car. He helped him shuffle slowly on his stomach until he was safely on the roof and out of harms way.

"Bella!" Chris wrapped an arm around her and started to giggle when she shuffled between his legs and cuddled close to him. She was desperate to jump down into Evan's arms but one look at his stern expression told her to stay where she was. And that meant the closes source of comfort was the person who she thought was her cousin.

"Oh baby! Oh I thought- I…" Evan couldn't repeat what had been rattling through his head, lest he wanted to have a nervous breakdown and sob in front of the kids.

He thought he'd lost her for good.

He gripped the edge of the car and shuffled along until he was close enough to dig one hand into the top of the car and use the other to wrap his arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders. He reeled her into his chest and felt how badly she was shaking when she let out a feeble mewl into his chest. Her face tucked into the middle of his chest near his collar bone and both her arms wrapped around his torso, digging her nails into his flesh to reassure herself he was actually here, safe in her arms.

"Evan…"

"I'm here, I've got you, you're safe."

He couldn't press enough kisses to her wet, matted hair and each peck made her cry harder until she was sobbing and bubbling and whimpering in his arms and all he could do was shush her. If she didn't stop he was going to breakdown.

"Get on the car baby, we need to sit up with the kids until the water goes down enough to walk." Evan let his arm slope lower down until it was firmly around (Y/n)'s waist but his head snapped up to Bella when she spoke.

"Mummy's stuck."

"What? Stuck how?" His head pivoted back down to (Y/n) and he coiled his arm back to his side so he could hold her chin between his fingers and tilt her head up to look at him when she kept her eyes adverted down. He thought it was strange that she had Bella on top of the car but she herself was still half submerged in the water. It didn't dawn on Evan that she might be sitting in the water because she was stuck, he thought she was just trying to test the level of the water or wait and get ready to move again.

"My leg," (Y/n) glanced up at the kids before she lowered her voice, "I- I couldn't swim properly and hold Bella, I tried to get to the car… my foot went through the window, the glass-" She broke off, breaths hitching higher with each word.

Bella had been screaming and choking at the same time and (Y/n) didn't know what to do. The moment she got her unstuck the current took them and a wave submerged them and both of them panicked. When the car came into view (Y/n) knew she had to do anything and everything to reach it and get them both safe but she couldn't let them continue to float away and risk drowning or becoming separated again.

One slippery hand on the roof of the car wasn't enough to ground them to it and (Y/n) was in such a hurry and frightened that in her haste, she tried to put her feet on the car any way she could to grab it and stay secured to it.

Her right foot went straight through the glass window up to her mid-thigh and she could feel every shard of glass imbedded in her leg to the hilt. If she moved an inch either way, a searing hot fire pulsed through her nerves and made spots dance in front of her eyes.

So (Y/n) sat with her left leg floating on the bonnet of the car and her right leg jammed in the window, waiting for help to arrive or for enough courage to filter through her so she could pull herself free and keep moving. She didn't have to wait any longer, the one wish she had been praying for had been answered. Both the boys were here in front of her, they found their way back to her and they were alright.

"Okay, brace yourself on the roof and I'll take a look," Evan pecked her forehead again before he reached down to grab the doorhandle so he had something to ground himself with like an anchor in the sea.

It was hard to see much in the murky seaweed coloured water. Bits of everything floated past him from socks and leaves to paintbrushes and cans of pop. But he didn't have to go far down at all to see the problem. There was a large shard of glass imbedded in the underside of (Y/n)'s thigh, that was why she couldn't move.

He pushed back up to the surface and looked around before he grabbed a floating branch that looked sturdy and thick.

"I'm gonna break the glass to get you free, then I can check the damage properly and patch you up. Deep breaths, this is gonna sting sweetheart," He whispered the last part in her ear before he submerged himself again.

Punching and using force underwater felt pointless when the water took over half his energy and his swing but he had to try. He jammed the branch repeatedly into each area of the glass until finally it started to give way and break off into smaller jagged pieces. And it gave Evan the chance to slowly hold (Y/n)'s upper thigh close to her bum and slowly pull her leg back.

When she was free, Evan rounded her side and scrambled up onto the bonnet before he crouched back down and leaned into the water. His smile was enough to calm (Y/n) down and she held onto his shoulders, letting him grab her under her arms and slowly hoist her up out of the water as both kids cheered.

"Alright, alright baby I'm gonna lay you on your front so I can check the damage, try stay still."

Evan lifted his leg over (Y/n)'s back so she was held between his thighs before he lowered her down until she was laid down on her stomach on the roof. The glass was in the back of her thigh and he had to sort it.

"I'm sorry baby."

"What f-"

Both Chris and Bella coiled back in fright when (Y/n) screamed before she smothered her mouth and nose with her hands and bit down into the palm of her hand.

Evan grimaced, swiping the tears away with his shoulder when he loosened his belt and strapped it as tight as he could around (Y/n)'s upper thigh. He pulled it so hard it sank into her skin like a new layer of flesh and it caused her leg to jerk out. When the pin was secured in the button, Evan kneeled down in front of her and pulled her so her upper half was laid over his knees.

He bent over her, smoothing her hair behind her ears as she sobbed into his muck-ridden jeans. Each sob made her shake and each jagged breath made her leg pulsate and throb and it circled back round to make her cry even worse and all Evan could do was shush her. He hummed into her hair, kissed the back of her head and pressed his fingertips into her skin to try and calm her down.

He couldn't remove the glass from her leg because it was stemming the bleeding and it would make her bleed out if it was removed. But Evan couldn't just leave it there and let the rest of the blood drip around the wound. He had to cut off the blood supply to the wound and the only thing he had that would suffice was the belt keeping his jeans up.

"Shh, it's okay baby, I'm so sorry but I had to. I love you so, so much."

After a few minutes, (Y/n) punctured her teeth into her lower lip to try and stop herself from crying, she had to be brave for the kids.

There was no way she could sit or stand up when the glass was still in her leg so she settled for pulling herself a little higher up on the roof like she was sunbathing and getting a tan on her back. She kept her arms folded and rested her chin on her arms, trying to smile through the tears and the pain that was making her delirious.

"I'm okay," She whispered quietly when Christopher reached a hand out and gently rubbed her shoulder, unsure what else he could do.

"Daddy…" Bella held her arms out towards Evan and shuffled out of Chris's arms. She hadn't seen him or touched him since before the tsunami hit and she was desperate for some comfort. She had been calling out for him for what felt like hours, days, years to the frightened toddler and now he was here, she hadn't even gotten a cuddle yet.

"Come here babygirl,"

That was all the encouragement she needed to scramble forward onto his lap and curl up against his sodden chest. She didn't care about his damp, musky shirt that now smelled horribly of fish, sewage and whatever else was floating in the water. All she cared about was that his broad chest was pressed up against her face and his strong arms were curled around her and when she felt him kiss the top of her head, she mewled quietly like a kitten.

***

"I think we can walk through this now, everyone is heading in that direction, there might be shelter or a hospital somewhere nearby." Evan tiredly looked down at (Y/n), trying to add a little hope to his broken voice.

They had been sat on this car for an hour or more and they couldn't wait much longer. Evan had kept watch of (Y/n)'s leg and her lower chest where he knew she had a puncture wound and both were leaking blood like a slow but steady river that trailed over the side of the car and dribbled down into the dusty caramel coloured water.

He needed to get her to a hospital before she lost too much blood or got an infection or something worse happened. They were safe but isolated here. There had to be a hospital or a make shift hospital nearby.

And (Y/n) agreed, she was growing tired and the longer they stayed here, the less likely she was going to be to move.

"Alright you two, we're going to find some help, wait there for a moment."

Evan sat Bella back down next to Christopher before he shuffled to the edge of the car and slowly slid down into the lapping water, annoyed that he was just starting to dry off and now he was going to be cold and sodden and sticky again.

The water barely reached his knees and it was thinning out by the second.

"Come here bud," Chris smiled and reached out for Evan's arms, letting him pick him up and slide him into the water as gently as he could in case anything sharp was hiding beneath. "Can you walk through this?"

"I think so."

"Good. Sweetheart, you ready?"

A tepid smile mixed with a grimace twisted on (Y/n)'s lips and she shuffled to the edge and looped her arms around Evan's neck. She took a moment to kiss his jaw and bury her face in his neck before she nodded and let him do the work. His hands were tight and secure on her hips and he pulled her closer, leaning her weight on his chest until he could lower her down into the water.

(Y/n) could barely feel her right leg. It was like an awkward sense of pins and needles but it didn't hurt, her leg felt like it was under anaesthetic, it was limp and felt thick and puffy and loose like it was disconnected. She had to lean all of her weight onto her left leg and loop her hands around Evan's bicep to make sure she didn't fall, but she was upright.

She would shuffle and hobble through the water, she had to.

"Baby girl come here so I can get you." Evan wrapped his free arm around Bella and swiftly picked her up from the car but the moment he leaned down to try and put her in the water, she screamed. A horrid, ungodly sound left her lips and rickoted through Evan's ears and make him wince and shriek in response.

"No daddy no! D-don't let me go! DADDY NO!"

Bella started to bash her tiny fists into Evan's chest so much she was starting to hurt him and each scream resonated through his ears until he had to shout her name to get her attention.

He pressed his hand against the back of her head, tangling his fingers into her crimped hair as he pressed his lips against her forehead to shush her.

"Okay baby girl, it's okay. I'll just carry you, shh you're safe I promise. Daddy's got you."

He didn't want to carry her all this way, as much as Evan loved holding carrying and cuddling his little girl, this was different. He had (Y/n) to think about, she could barely stand up and hobbling through this was going to be a big trek for her. Evan had been hoping the kids would walk beside him and he could either carry (Y/n) or at least take her weight and keep lifting her so she didn't have to move as much.

But he couldn't put Bella down, not in this state. God, she was never going to get a bath again.

They didn't know how far they trecked through the water slugging around their ankles. They didn't know how many people they had passed or how many bodies floated in the water nearby. No one could count the amount of cars, trees, electrical items, bikes, cupboards and shoes that had floated past them.

But each of them were getting tired.

Evan couldn't keep walking for much longer, his head and his heart could go on for miles because of the three people who were depending on him, but his body was past its limit.

He had Chris clinging to his left leg, one arm curled around his leg and the other hand was in his pocket so he stayed close and kept himself upright. Bella was asleep in his arm, her legs curled up on his chest and her head lolled on his shoulder. It was a relief she was asleep because neither parent wanted her to witness or remember the violent, horrifying images that were surrounding them.

And then there was (Y/n), both her arms around Evan's neck, her head tucked into his chest and her body stooped over. Her left leg was limp and useless now, she was dragging her foot behind her collecting mud and grime like a hoarder. Evan took half her weight and she hopped on her good leg or dragged her foot and shuffled awkwardly through the sludge.

It seemed like forever until the road actually became visible and the water drained away into a clear, if wrecked, street.

They had been given directions to the nearest hospital and all of them had been praying for some sort of vehicle to pass by and give them a lift but they had no such luck. They had to keep walking until they found what they were looking for.

"Evan… I can't," (Y/n) couldn't even voice what she was feeling or tell him what she wanted or needed. All she could do was stare up at her husband, her firefighter, her saviour, and bite her lip.

She wanted to sleep, she wanted to sit down and have a nap and wake up all better and patched up with this event far behind them in their past with their future ahead of them. But the longer they walked, the less sure (Y/n) was that she would be okay after all of this. She just wanted to stop.

"Bella, baby girl, there's no more water. I need you to walk with us, stay right between my legs if you want and hold onto me, but I have to carry mummy now."

Evan woke her up gently and peppered kisses all over her face to brighten her up and make sure she knew everything was alright. There was no water anywhere in sight to frighten her and make her cling to him in fear of drowning. He didn't care if she walked with Chris, walked between his legs or right behind him holding onto his other leg like Chris. Just as long as she walked so he could carry (Y/n).

Bella began to whimper and squirm but Evan didn't give her chance to panic, he crouched down with (Y/n) doubling over and leaning on him, and placed their daughter on her feet. She stood firmly on the floor, panic and uncertainty in her eyes before Chris reached a free hand down to hold her hand.

"Up you go sweetheart, this will be the safest way for your leg." He crouched and turned his back towards (Y/n), wiggling his brows to make her smile and lighten the mood.

He didn't want to carry her on his chest when he had a feeling Bella would stay in front of him. He couldn't carry her bridal style because it would be too awkward and he could hurt her leg. But a piggy back ride was the next best thing, he could keep her safe and still see where he was going and her leg would just dangle over his hip. He wouldn't be in reach of the glass to knock or disturb it.

With a smile that showed how weak and disorientated she felt, (Y/n) looped her arms around her husband's neck and let his hands hold her thighs. He scooped her up with ease and settled her on his torso before he straightened up and nodded at the kids to start walking.

"Off we go."

Somehow, Evan felt safer, more secure and had a slight boost of energy and adrenaline with (Y/n) on his back. He had her safe in his hold and he didn't have to watch her struggle and hobble, he had been desperate to carry her and now he could, he felt better. Despite the discomfort in his ribs that he was sure were broken and the dizzy feeling clouding his head, he pushed forward.

He had his wife on his back, Chris clinging to his leg and his daughter waddling slowly between his legs, holding Chris's hand for safety and reassurance.

The sun started to set behind the horizon when the four of them slowly shuffled, hobbled and dragged their feet towards the hospital they had been dreaming about for hours.

"We made it," Evan choked through his words and he could feel the tears suddenly spilling down his face like a waterfall. They did it; they got here, it took them all afternoon and a horrid start, but they got to the hospital. Now they just needed to find someone to help them and they could get patched up and finally relax. As soon as everyone was checked over and (Y/n) was taken care of, Evan could calm down.

He would think, breathe, eat, sleep, cry, when his wife was tended to and out of medical danger.

"You did it baby," (Y/n) whispered quietly in his ear and kissed the junction of his neck behind his ear and jaw. She felt him shiver beneath her touch and she nuzzled her cheek into his shoulder. It was hard to fight off the sleep that was fighting to win the battle.

"Cap, it's good to see you," Eddie patted Bobby on the shoulder and managed a bright smile despite the day's work that had unfolded. Staying at the hospital had kept him busy and being a temporary medic was a delightful change for Eddie. He felt a little more useful here than he had back there in the water a few hours earlier.

But whatever Bobby was about to say drowned out into static when Eddie looked just beyond him.

"Oh my God!" Eddie's fingers dug into Bobby's shoulder and he ended up yanking him down a little before he suddenly let go and bolted past the hospital reception that was crammed with people.

He stumbled down the path, his heart beating frantically against his ribs causing the vein in his neck to pulse and make him feel faint.

What had he done?

Why did he drop Christopher off with them this morning? Why did he add such extra pressure on the two most important people to him? He should have found some other childcare for Christopher, he shouldn't have turned up out of the blue and landed them with him. They looked like they had all been through the heart of the storm and then some. Why did he give them the added pressure of Christopher?

If he didn't they might have gone somewhere else on their day trip than wherever they took the kids.

Eddie didn't know what to do when he reached them. He wasn't sure whether to grab his son and hold onto him for dear life, check over Bella, confiscate Buck and wrap him up in a hug or take (Y/n) and carry her through reception. He froze in front of them all, his arms paralysed out in front of him as he couldn't make up his mind on what to do.

"Daddy!" Christopher let go of Bella's hand and stumbled forward, making the decision for him as he threw himself into Eddie's waiting arms.

"Oh, Christopher, are you okay?" He didn't look like he had been through the tsunami, he looked more like he had gone swimming in the sea than through a horrific natural disaster. "Buck, I- hey girlie, oh it's okay." Eddie kept one arm around his son but his free arm looped around Bella when she ran across to him and grabbed his leg.

"Uncle Eddie,"

She couldn't hold her dad properly when he was carrying (Y/n) and she was desperate for comfort. If she couldn't have Evan, she was sure as Hell going to have her uncle Eddie instead. Her little arms stretched up and grabbed at Eddie's neck until he understood and picked her up, holding her against his chest when she began to cry.

"Buck, what happened? Chimney I need help over here!" Bobby bypassed Eddie and stood in front of Evan whose legs were starting to wobble as floods of tears poured down his face.

"Buck, God where were you?" Chimney tried to look him in the eye but he wouldn't look at any of them, all Evan could do was cry, keeping his gaze down to his feet. "Stretcher! (Y/n) I'm gonna check you over real quick then we'll get you inside and patched up, okay?"

"Hm,"

She couldn't open her eyes any longer, her face nuzzled into Buck's neck again and her arms squeezed lightly around his neck. It took all her effort to smooth her fingertips over Evan's chest to let him know that he was okay and they had made it.

Chimney patted his hands all down her back, felt her ribs in case they were broken and observed the puncture wound in her lower chest that wasn't extensive but it would definitely need stitches. But when he looked down at her right leg, his lips rolled together and he eyed Bobby with uncertainty. Her leg was extremely discoloured from the cut off circulation, blood was still dribbling slowly down her leg and the glass could have any number of infections on it that could penetrate her soft tissue and cause damage.

She had to get into theatre now before her leg became unsavable.

"Pulse is good but her breathing is shallow and her leg is in bad shape, that glass needs to come out now and the blood supply needs to be reconnected before the leg is lost." Chimney turned to find two nurses had arrived with a slightly lopsided stretcher but it would do. (Y/n) was now a high priority and she would get first admission to an operating room. "Okay (Y/n) we're going to gently ease you off of Buck and onto your stomach on this stretcher."

"Stay very still Buck, we've got her don't worry." Bobby patted Evan's shoulder before he and Chimney both got hold of (Y/n).

They moved an arm beneath her chest each and carefully held her thighs before they pulled her back. Her head fell back so slow and floppy it looked like she was a ragdoll whose neck had just broken. Her arms were lifeless and useless at her sides and she felt like jelly, one wrong move and she would split forever.

Bobby moved round and leaned backwards so (Y/n) could lay on his chest and Chimney could manouevre her legs and they lifted her up onto the stretcher. He turned her head to the side so she could still breathe properly and they placed her arms on the stretcher tucked up against her chest before Chimney gave a thumbs up for them to take her.

"Buck, buddy let's follow them inside and stay with (Y/n). You and Bella can stay close by and we will get you checked out." Bobby pressed one hand on Buck's back and the other on his chest both to check his breathing and to try and comfort him and steady him when he looked like he would keel over.

He knew Evan and Bella wouldn't want to be separated from (Y/n) and if they went now, they could stay in the closest waiting room to her and get seen by a nurse. Evan's head looked bad and he could have other multiple injuries they didn't know about.

As soon as Buck saw Eddie take the kids inside to follow (Y/n), his knees gave out.

His hands latched around Bobby's arm, his body went down with a harsh thud to the concrete floor on his knees and his breathing turned shallow and limp.

"Wow, wow! Hey, you're okay. You're all here in one piece, you're all gonna be okay. Come here," Bobby spoke with a calm and unusually soft voice like melted butter and he pulled Evan into his chest when he didn't refuse the contact. He let Evan tuck his face into his shoulder, switching between little panting breaths and big gasps before he let out a shrill cry that sounded like his throat had been scratched raw.

"I- I got them all here. They're all safe," Evan started to rock himself back and forth until Bobby and Chimney both did the same, holding onto him and checking his vitals at the same time.

"You did it Buck. You did it."

#evan buckley #evan buckley imagine #evan buck buckely #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #buck imagine #911 imagine #911 fox #911 #eddie diaz #bobby nash

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growingstories · 10 months

Text

Fireman

Once upon a time in, the bustling city of Firewood, there lived a handsome very tall and fireman named Eric. With his chiseled jawline, piercing blue eyes, and muscular frame, he had always been the object of admiration for his fellow firefighters and the ladies of Firewood. Eric prided himself on his physical fitness and found solace in his high-intensity workouts.

However, life took an unexpected turn for Eric when he began dating his girlfriend, Sarah. Sarah had a weakness for big men and enjoyed cooking hearty meals. As their relationship progressed, Sarah's portions gradually grew larger, catering to Eric's desire to put on weight. Initially, Eric embraced this change, believing it would enhance his masculine appeal.

In an effort to balance his newfound appetite, Eric increased his workout routines, desperately trying to build muscle while cutting down on the inevitable fat accumulation. But his body seemed to have a different plan, as the stubborn fat refused to dissipate, even with his rigorous exercises.

To make matters worse, Eric's fire department welcomed some new colleagues, bringing along their culinary skills. Unknown to Eric, these new firefighters were renowned for their indulgent cooking. Each shift brought mouthwatering dishes with hearty portions that Eric found irresistible. He couldn't resist the temptation indul andged in these culinary delights.

As the months passed, Eric's weight began skyrocket to. He could barely fit into his fireman uniform, and his peers started noticing his increasing waistline. Frustration consumed him as he struggled to pass the physical fitness tests required for his job. Eric felt trapped, unable to break free from the cycle of overeating and his sedentary office job.

Determined to regain control of his life, Eric reluctantly accepted a desk job at the fire department headquarters. This decision, though necessary, had adverse effects on Eric's physical well-being. The monotonous office routine left him feeling unfulfilled and dissatisfied. Seeking solace, he turned to the comfort of food once again, finding temporary happiness in each bite.

The combination of Sarah's, cooking his colleagues' culinary expertise, and the long office hours led Eric to a point of no return. Every night, Eric and Sarah would curl up on the sofa, with a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and engage in passionate lovemaking. The food and sex became intertwined in a never-ending loop of pleasure and indulgence.

Months went by, and Eric's expanding waistline matched his growing appetite. His once muscular frame was now concealed beneath layers of fat, making it almost impossible for him to find clothing that fit. The fitness tests were a distant memory, as even the simplest physical tasks became insurmountable challenges.

Despite the limitations his weight imposed on him, Eric continued to indulge in food. The frustration of his growing size seemed to be overshadowed by the pleasure he derived from his new office job, combined with the joy of devouring copious amounts of food. His lunch and dinner consisted of supersized portions, followed by a late-night rendezvous with Ben & Jerry's and his girlfriend.

Eric's transformation did not go unnoticed, and he was eventually promoted to safety adviser at the headquarters. His new role only contributed to his sedentary lifestyle, as he spent most of his time sitting behind a desk, basking in the warmth of his office routine.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Eric's weight showed no sign of stopping its relentless climb. His once athletic body had been replaced by an immense, round form that seemed to fill every space he occupied.

But Eric found solace in his seemingly never-ending cycle of indulgence. He reveled in the pleasures that life offered him, finding pleasure in his big lunches, oversized dinners, irresistible ice cream, and the passionate lovemaking that followed. His love for life overshadowed any concerns about his health or appearance.

And so, Eric lived each day, embracing the path he had chosen. In his mind, there was no stopping the pleasure he derived from his newfound routine. The road to self-restraint seemed distant, as he surrendered himself to the pleasures of food, sex, and sleep.

In the end, Eric had created his own world, a world where he found immense happiness in his gluttonous habits. His journey was a testament to the power of indulgence and the allure of a life driven by pleasure.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction

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fatphobiabusters · 9 months

Text

I explained to a fatphobe today the documented fact that has been known for decades of how there is no scientifically-proven way to lose weight long-term and that dieting doesn't work. His response was to tell me that I need to try for "longer than a week."

I did. I tried for years, probably longer than he ever managed to keep a single friend around to listen to his assholery. The only time I ever had any "success" had also been due to me dieting for longer than a week. Two weeks to be exact. Where I lost 20 pounds.

That's over 9 kilograms, if you measure weight that way.

I lost the same amount of weight as a watermelon. A car tire. A lawn mower. An office chair. The weight of an entire patio table.

In two weeks.

If you want more numbers, that was 2 and a half hours of exercising on exercise equipment at levels dangerous for my body. Every day.

14 days of a self-imposed famine. A salad here or there when I couldn't take the pain in my stomach anymore. And then, of course, going right back to starving.

My mom who had helped teach me to hate my body for not being the width of a pencil had even managed to notice how much weight I lost and how fast. She forcibly weighed me, not that weighing me accomplished anything. She didn't know my previous weight.

I saw my childhood friend for the first time in quite a while after losing the weight of two newborn babies in half a month. The first thing I asked her is if she noticed I was thinner. I had always compared myself to her growing up. She was naturally thin, needed no effort at all to stay barely thicker than her bones. She would only eat a few bites of food, slowly, and only if it was to her taste. For many years as a kid, she was the single person I knew who ate baloney, let alone as one of the handful of foods she was willing to consume. I grew up thinking thin people ate nothing more than a bowl of steamed broccoli for dinner because nothing I did ever made me as small as her.

When she told me she noticed, I smiled. I was proud that I had so severely abused my body, that I had lost an extremely alarming amount of weight in such a short amount of time.

The only time. The one instance I had ever managed to lose a noticeable amount of my body. My fat genetics and PCOS don't really help in that regard.

I'm now nearly double the weight I had starved to as a teenager. My story follows the research studies to a T.

By the end of high school, I had already gained back the whole 20 pounds. And after high school, I gained that "and then some" so many people experience. 95% of people who try to lose weight end up gaining the weight back within 3-5 years, most becoming bigger than the weight they started with. I didn't "willpower enough" into that 5% success rate. Abusing my body those two weeks so I could be an entire shopping cart lighter and then obsessing about my weight throughout my high school years wasn't enough "willpower" it seems.

I gained more weight afterwards due to medicine, mental disability, untreated PCOS, a pandemic, more attempts at starvation, being bedridden in a tent for two years, and my body, like many bodies, wanting to grow into those fat genetics of mine now that I was no longer a teenager.

I did, in fact, try longer than a week. Now it's time to reciprocate and try treating fat people like human beings for a mere seven days. Here's an app for you to log all of the fat people you didn't tell to die, and make sure you use all your willpower. I have a neighbor whose sister's boss managed to not tell fat people to die for two whole years! They're still refraining from doing so today. All her boss needed to do was stop drinking sodas and have the willpower to succeed.

Have you tried that?

-Mod Worthy

#fatphobia #internalized fatphobia #diet culture #tw eating disorders #ED mention #Mod Worthy

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oliversrarebooks · 18 days

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 52: The Maestro's Correction

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tw: mind control, body control, burns, hand whump, whipping, blindness, abuse, blood drinking

October 1925

Alexander stood and bowed low as the Maestro entered the music room, trailed by Oliver in eerily perfect synchronization. "Good evening, sire. I hope you are well."

"I also hope I am well. That depends largely on your hospitality, I'm afraid," he said. "Let us begin by examining your new acquisition in more detail."

"Certainly, sire."

No, no, no -- it took all of Oliver's self-control to not fight as the Maestro sat down on the padded bench and forced him into a submissive kneel. The hook and eye on his dress was undone, and Oliver's dread rose. What did he mean by examining in more detail…?

It was somewhat of a relief when those stony eyes focused on the brand on his chest. "Slipshod. The edges are clearly uneven. The symbol will hardly be readable." The Maestro looked up. "It's obviously your work, Alexander. If you had coerced Lily into fulfilling your obligation, as you were no doubt tempted to do, it wouldn't be in such a sorry state."

"Yes, sire."

"Your thrall is permanently marred, the results of your task an abject disappointment, and all you have to say in response is 'yes, sire'," said the Maestro, his tone like a knife pressed against Alexander's neck. "When I attended the ballet, your thrall informed me that you are allowing him a great deal of freedom, as well, are you not?"

"Yes, sire."

Oliver couldn't turn around, but he could hear the despondence in Alexander's voice. This had been his fault, hadn't it? He should have covered for his master. But Alexander had warned him in no uncertain terms to be honest. What was the correct action? Was there even a correct action?

"Because your thrall is otherwise so obedient, I feel inclined to only impose a light punishment this time."

"Thank you, sire."

The Maestro indicated a fat candle sitting on the end table, its flames providing the only cheer and warmth in the room. "Place your hand in the candle's flame until I am satisifed."

"Yes, sire."

"No!" The choked cry came from Oliver's mouth before he could stop himself. He wrenched his head out of the Maestro's grasp just enough to see Alexander's shock, his hand hovering dangerously near the flames.

"Oh?" Oliver's head was snapped back to look in the Maestro's eyes, filled with a cold fury. "You disagree with my judgement?"

"No, no, sir, I don't --"

The Maestro slapped him across the face hard. "You disagree with my judgement and then you lie to compound it," he said, rage in every note of his musical voice. "You do this out of loyalty, no doubt. My misguided children seek companionship among humankind, and value loyalty over obedience. A flaw I have not yet burned out of them."

Oliver trembled as the Maestro took his right hand. The vampire's hands were colder than ice and smooth as porcelain. He ran his finger's down Oliver's palm in a way that might have been tender in other circumstances. "Do you play any instruments, child?"

He was thinking of burning Oliver's hands, wasn't he? Oliver desperately wished he could answer yes to that question, in the hopes that he would be spared, but the blossoming bruise on his cheek warned him otherwise. "No, sir."

"Are you clever with your hands?"

Oliver thought back to the many evenings he'd spent repairing the bindings of antique books and mending his worn clothes. "I believe so, sir."

"I see." The Maestro turned over Oliver's hands in his own. "Human hands can be permanently damaged. A shame, truly. Mutilating your hands before you've been given the opportunity to prove yourself useful would be a waste at this time, as would any corrective action that spills excessive blood."

Oliver wasn't sure if he should be relieved by that. "…Thank you, sir?"

"You have an obedient soul. I'm not wrong about such matters," said the Maestro. "It is your master's lack of discipline that is to blame for your insubordination. Therefore, I will not punish you."

"You won't, sir?" Oliver would have found this mercy difficult to believe even if he didn't notice Alexander tensing.

"You don't want to watch your master's punishment, do you?"

"No, sir."

"Then look into my eyes, child. Deep, deep into my eyes."

He didn't have a choice, as the Maestro's power drew his gaze upwards and locked it there before he fully realized what was happening.

"Deeper. Lose yourself."

There was a disconcerted ticking noise in Oliver's head, as though his ear were pressed to a clock, and he realized in terror that he was being enthralled, the power like chains wrapping around his mind. Despite Alexander's many warnings and his own resolve to be obedient and avoid trouble, Oliver couldn't help the urge to pull against it. It was bad enough to have to give over his body. The idea of this cruel vampire invading his mind was too much to bear.

But it was already too late. Oliver was already trapped in his eyes. As the ticking of the clock gradually slowed like a mechanical toy winding down, his thoughts slowed too, his vision engulfed by the cold oblivion of the Maestro's gaze.

"Close your eyes down. Tight. As tight as they can."

"Yes, sir." Oliver's eyes obediently shut, sparing him the weight of that gaze, but doing nothing to free his mind.

"I am placing lead weights on each one. Weights that are far too heavy to allow you to open your eyes on your own." A cold finger tapped each of Oliver's eyelids. "Only I can move these weights. You will not open your eyes again until I allow it."

"Yes, sir."

"Wake."

That crisp snap sounded next to Oliver's ear, and he felt the chains on his mind lift, but he did not open his eyes. Could not. Oliver couldn't help but be confused. The Maestro had full control of his body. Why go through the trouble just to make him shut his eyes?

There was one obvious, awful possibility: because he did not intend for Oliver to open his eyes ever again.

"Now that that's settled, you may take your punishment, Alexander," the Maestro said.

Oliver was forced back into a kneeling position and the Maestro placed one hand atop his head. He heard several steps across the wood floor, and then absolute silence.

Was his master actually burning his hand in the candle's flame? There was no sound at all, no cries of pain from Alexander, not even the sound of breathing. The only thing tethering Oliver to the world was that hand on top of his head. As much as Oliver would hate to see or hear his master in pain, the deathly silence and darkness and suspense made it so much worse.

And just as Oliver thought he couldn't take it any more, he smelled what he desperately hoped was not the scent of charred flesh. His spirit cried out to do something, anything, to help his master, but blinded and bound as he was, there was nothing he could do.

"Enough," said the Maestro, after what seemed like an eternity. "I grow weary of watching you disappoint me. Alexander, play."

Play? Alexander's sire couldn't possibly expect him to play an instrument with a ruined hand. Yet Oliver could hear Alexander sit down at the piano bench and begin to play a piece which obviously involved a great deal of intricate fingerwork. Perhaps his hand was not that damaged after all -- but the smell in the air said otherwise.

He didn't have long to sit and enjoy the music (as much as he could under the circumstances) because the Maestro stood and pulled Oliver up, leading him in a dance. Oliver couldn't see and didn't know the steps, but he didn't have to, as his body was once again puppeted without his input, gliding across the room with a grace that was not his own, his trembling hand trapped in that cold porcelain grasp.

"One," intoned the Maestro. "Two." Several beats of music. "Three."

Oliver didn't know what it meant. Swirling around the music room with his eyes shut tight, his anxiety was reaching a fever pitch, making it difficult for him to relax enough to allow his body to sink into the control.

"Four. Five."

He was counting the mistakes, Oliver realized. Every moment his concentration broke, his body was fighting just the smallest bit against the unwanted intrusion. Each time that happened, he would slightly miss a step, or pull against the Maestro's grip.

"Eleven. Twelve."

He couldn't focus. He couldn't follow. He couldn't stop his treacherous body from rebelling against being made the plaything of the implacable vampire in front of him. And the number was climbing.

"Twenty-two." The Maestro released his grip on Oliver, who reeled backwards. "You may stop now, Alexander. Do you see now what I was talking about? He has obedience, but lacks discipline."

"Yes, sire." Alexander sounded as dead inside as he was metaphysically.

"Try not to spill blood unnecessarily when you administer the punishment. I finally find myself with an appetite."

"Yes, sire."

Oliver didn't have to wait long to know what the punishment was. Once more, he was kneeling, and he felt a sharp blow from a thin implement sting his back. It was followed by another, and another, and although Oliver was being kept from movement, he couldn't help but cry. The anticipation of each blow was as bad as the pain, and his back felt like it was on fire.

"That's twenty-two, sire."

"Your hand was light," said the Maestro. "No matter. You had three mistakes in your playing."

He heard Alexander kneeling beside him. The blows the Maestro delivered to Alexander's back rang out through the music room, unmistakable.

"Now that that unfortunate business has been taken care of," said the Maestro as casually as though he'd been discussing an unpleasant chore, "I will take my meal."

Oliver felt every muscle in his body tense, despite the control holding him. It was wrong, wrong, wrong for anyone but his master to drink his blood, but everything about this evening had been wrong.

And it was made even worse by the fact that Oliver couldn't see what the Maestro was doing, when the bite was coming for him. All he could feel was a hand on his head and a thick vampiric aura enveloping his mind. It felt strangely empty. Not like desire or hunger or pleasure, like Oliver had always felt with his master. No, the Maestro's aura was purely about control and practicality, freezing him in position so that he could be fed from. Oliver couldn't even tilt his neck as he'd been trained.

At least a feeding wouldn't be so bad, compared to everything that had happened so far, Oliver reasoned. Miss Lily had instilled in him the craving to provide for a vampire, and the feedings he'd experienced so far had been pleasant, even euphoric. He'd been dreading it previously, but now it actually be a relief.

At least, it seemed like a relief until the Maestro's slender fangs sunk into the flesh of his neck.

Oliver gasped in surprise and pain. It hurt, agony radiating from the bite, and the sensation of teeth in his muscles was deeply violating, not to mention the uncomfortable suction of his blood being consumed. His world narrowed down to nothing but the awful, aching wound, his body spasming with the need to escape from the predator, frozen in place by unnatural means.

It hurt, of course it hurt. He should have known better than to think this might be a relief. Alexander always put him under a gentle spell of sleep and submission and pleasure as he fed, a spell that kept Oliver from feeling any of the pain that would naturally accompany his neck being bitten. Of course the Maestro would not do that, would instead relish his suffering.

As his master's sire drank his blood, his thoughts began to overpower Oliver's own, and he found…

Nothingness.

A pitch black sky with no stars or moon or clouds. An empty field devoid of life as far as the eye could see. A bitter chill sapping the strength and cheer from his very marrow.

Order. Solitude. Misery.

The inky sky rushed to meet him, to swallow him in oblivion, and Oliver thought he might be dying.

"Oliver?"

He was floating back up through the darkness, tethered by his master's voice.

"Oliver? Oliver, please wake up."

"I'm awake, sir," he said, trying to open his eyes and finding that he couldn't, the memories of what had transpired rushing back to him. He couldn't open his eyes at all, the imaginary lead weights keeping them firmly shut. He could tell that he was laid out on the padded bench, cradled gently in what he hoped was his master's arms. His back hurt and his cheek stung and the wound on his neck was intensely uncomfortable… but he was alive. "I can't…" he said, panic rising. "I can't open my eyes, sir. Is he still here? Is it over?"

"He's gone. He probably won't trouble us for some time," Alexander said. "You were brilliant, Oliver. A picture perfect thrall. I wish you didn't have to go through any of that, but you handled it all so well."

Praise from his master cut through some of Oliver's fear and pain. "Will I be able to open my eyes again, sir?"

"Yes, you will, I promise. Hypnotic commands usually fade away on their own if they're not reinforced."

"How long will that take, sir?" said Oliver. Despite the welcome reassurance that this wouldn't be forever, his mind was already filling with anxiety over how he would be able to live. How could he find his way around the expansive manor while blinded? How long would he have to go without reading?

"Well… my sire's very powerful, as I'm sure you know, and you're…"

"Weak, sir?"

"I wasn't going to say weak. You take to enthrallment very well, which has nothing to do with mental weakness, believe it or not. And it's a trait I find endearing, but unfortunately in this case it might be a problem. It could last a month, maybe more…"

Oliver's heart clenched at the idea of weeks in the dark. How could he even take care of himself? Would he be able to cook or bathe? Would he need his master to help him do all of those things? Would Alexander help him?

"…but don't worry!" said Alexander hastily, running a hand through Oliver's hair. "I'll take you to see Lily first thing tomorrow night. She can usually undo things like that, especially considering the grip she has on your mind already."

Oliver never thought he'd be so grateful for Miss Lily. "Thank you, sir. I hope it isn't too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all. You endured all of this for me. Helping undo my sire's damage is the least I can do. Speaking of which, I've already bandaged your neck, but I should tend to the wounds on your back and make sure they aren't too serious. I could get some ice from the icebox for your face, as well."

"But what about your hand, sir? Did you actually…"

"Yes. It will heal on its own, and I can clean and bandage it later. You don't need to concern yourself with it. I wish to tend to you."

Blinded and in pain, Oliver couldn't bring himself to argue with that. "Thank you, sir."

"I can't easily undo my sire's work, but I can help ease your pain with my song. Would you like that?"

"Yes, very much, sir."

His master began to sing, and his voice was like a lifeline in the dark, soothing and relaxing him and making him feel like everything would be okay, even if it very much wasn't.

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Thanks for reading. Next week: happier days with Fitz.

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@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping

#whump #whump writing #vampires #mind control #blood drinking #burns #vampire whumper #vampire whumpee #alexander #oliver #maestro #rare bookseller

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tommysversion · 1 year

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What about a reader x joel fic where reader is insecure of her body but joel doesn't care what her body looks like cause he loves her, and shows her how much he loves her with loads of fluff and maybe smut?

CWs: body image issues / insecurity / mild hints of internalised fatphobia / fatphobic language & insinuation

Notes: I went down the fluff route for this one, Anon, I hope that's okay.

It's not that you don't like how you look. In fact, you've spent a lot of time over the years actively fighting the impulse not to.

You've always been bigger. Curvy. Hell, as an adult, you have no problem labelling yourself as fat, because it's not a dirty word. Sure, there are people who would use it as a slur, but you've long since come to the conclusion that that's their problem, not yours.

You've fought tooth and nail to be comfortable in your own skin, in a world that valued your complete opposite.

It seems like nowadays, most people are on the slim side. That, or they're walls of solid muscle from hard labour. Being stocky is an asset; it means you can survive.

Unfortunately, the tendency towards bitchiness that runs in some people didn't get the memo that the world ended almost twenty two years ago.

You're not blind to the looks some of the people in town give you. The sly suggestion that putting you on kitchen duty was a terrible idea, surely you must be sneaking extra.

You know it's bullshit, know that the words are just hateful remarks from people who have never once lived in your skin - either through luck of genetics, or simply from being young enough to have been born into a world on the constant precipice of hunger.

Still. Sometimes the words sting. Remind you of middle school. Of self imposed small portions and your mother's worried expression as you refused cakes, refused sweet teas, refused anything bigger than a fist sized helping, until your aunt had pointed out all of the happy, beautiful women with your body type on the internet, on TV, in magazines and on Broadway.

It had been the start of a long journey of self acceptance, of riotous body positivity, of wearing t-shirts with slogans proclaiming fat positivity, of punching a boy who called you a slur in the balls and getting suspended for a week. That same aunt had taken you to see a musical while you were suspended, had bought you a journal to write in.

You like to think you're a strong person. You've lived through that, lived through the literal fucking apocalypse. But you're only human, and sometimes words sting.

Leave you standing in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom, poking and jiggling at yourself with a critical eye that you know is distinctly un-feminist, so unlike you.

Your gaze is critical as you inspect stretch marks. On a good day, those are your stripes. You make jokes about being a zebra whenever Joel touches them, never remotely critical himself.

Joel. He was... something else. He'd come into town with his adopted daughter, remained cold and closed off to almost everyone except her and his brother for months, until he'd seen you make Ellie laugh. Until he'd heard her ask you how to make cookies, heard you promise to show her.

Then he'd started, slowly, to come out of his shell. To spend more time with you. Brought you flowers. Now you lived together, with Ellie just down the hallway, because there was no way in hell a sixteen year old was going to live by herself, even in Jackson.

You're confident in yourself enough to know that you're well matched, but when you get like this? Sometimes it's easy to think differently. To worry that maybe he might prefer someone younger, with a more traditionally, socially accepted standard of beauty.

You're just getting lost in that spiral when Joel comes in from the shower, already dressed for the day in jeans, flannel shirt, and jacket over the top.

"What're you doing, darlin'? You'll catch a cold."

He snags a spare shirt from the edge of the bed, comes to wrap it around you. He's broad as hell, so you can wear his shirts without feeling self conscious. Not that you ever would, anyway, stealing his clothes is your favourite pastime.

"Honestly?" You've always prided yourself on being truthful with him. "I'm feeling kind of crappy."

You let him wrap the shirt around you, put your arms into the sleeves and exhale at the scent of him still lingering in the fabric.

"You think you're getting sick?" His hand moves to your forehead, and in spite of yourself, you smile.

"No, it's not that, it's just..." You sigh. "You don't mind how I look, right?"

Joel stares at you as if you've just spoken a foreign language, grown a second head, and told him you're giving up baking, all in one go.

"Of course I don't mind. What's that even s'posed to mean, do I mind?"

"Because I'm fat, Joel. Because there aren't exactly many women who look like me in town, and people talk, and -"

"Don't call yourself fat." Joel means well, and god he loves you, but he's still got that mindset that older people have where fat is a dirty word, even though you've explained the concept of reclaiming a slur to him.

"I mean. You can. But don't... say it to put yourself down."

The fact that he's listened to your rambles about body positivity makes you feel better.

"People still talk..."

"Fuck 'em. Let them talk. See if I give a shit." He says gruffly, wraps his arms around you then squeezes gently. "Don't care that there aren't many girls who look like you. Makes you special."

Another hug, before his hands rub over your stretch marks, over the softness of your tummy, of your thighs.

"You're perfect as you are. Absolutely perfect. I don't want you to change. I love how you're confident in yourself, and I wouldn't change a damn thing. Ellie needs that sort of role model."

You offer him a watery smile. How is it that someone so stoic can be so sweet when he wants to?

"C'mon. Push those bad thoughts away, lets get you dressed before you freeze. Didn't you promise Ellie a baking day?"

You smile again, lean in to kiss him lightly on the cheek before you glance once more at your reflection; the shadow of your earlier mood gone when you look at yourself, wrapped in Joel's arms, safe and loved and perfect, just as you are.

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #the last of us #soft!joel

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sebastianswallows · 2 months

Text

The English Client — Seven

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

She called him at ten o’clock the next morning, right as he returned from breakfast. She sounded very excited. And scared. They agreed to meet the next afternoon not at the shop, but on a broad street from where they would walk to the Baron’s office. It all had more secrecy than a muggle dabbler merited, but Tom played along.

“Ready?” she asked once they were outside his building, a tall wide limestone white manor.

“As ready as you are,” grinned Tom, his eyes glinting. He was teasing her, and enjoying it far too much.

“Oh dear, I hope not,” she chuckled.

Its doors were as big as city gates, thick old wood with one much smaller door inset on the right. Above it in a shield of stone, a fat snake swirled as it ate a child, legs first. It was a biscione, the Baron’s sigil.

She pushed a button on a metal box beside the door, and a low voice answered on the other side.

“It’s us.”

The door unlocked with a buzz.

The inside was wide and sparse, a naked vault that rose high into the darkness, all cold corridors and decorous marble. There were no carpets, no paintings, not even chairs or tables, only stains and scratches on the stone to tell there ever were any. Golden candleholders clung lightless on the walls, replaced it seemed by fake-crystal fixtures that hummed with electricity.

There was a lift, but they ignored it and went up the stairs instead.

“I’ve been to mausoleums with more life than this,” said Tom.

She giggled. “He’s had to sell a lot of his family assets to renovate the shop. He could probably have them replaced by now, the last few years have been profitable. But I guess he prefers it like this. It’s just his way.”

They climbed the wide and stately stairs up and up and up, going past the first floor, and the second, and the third, and Tom began to wonder if the building was abandoned when a hollow noise came through. A steady murmur. A monologue.

They reached the fourth floor. She opened another door, the only one there between two naked walls, and they stepped into a vestibule.

It was a little livelier and richly decorated. Low red sofas lined the walls on either side, and a tall stove made of ceramic tiles was fixed into the corner. Bookshelves lined the walls, and busts of ladies in black marble were set against the corners.

In the centre, behind a tall imposing desk, sat a woman who nearly dwarfed it with her presence. She was flanked by stacks of papers and a telephone. Although her suit of blue and bronze was feminine in shape, Tom felt a bit emasculated. Her hair was pinned in a harsh style, slinked back and practical.

“Ciao, Berit! Come stai?”

“Bongiorno. Bene.”

“He’s still speaking?”

“Yes. You’re free to enter, silently.”

“I think we’ll wait here. Oh, by the way, this is Tom Riddle. Tom, this is Mrs. Berit Boveri, the Baron’s secretary.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Tom, staying where he was.

The woman was impressive, and he wondered briefly whether this Baron had hired her for security rather than for answering his letters.

“Please,” she said, extending a hand in a quick, precise movement, “sit down.”

She appraised Tom coolly, quickly, before turning her attention back to the newspaper before her. An orange the size of a child’s head was cut open on the desk beside her, filling the room with a fresh scent.

The pair of them sat down, and Tom turned his attention to the sounds coming from the room behind them. A man was speaking in a low and shaky drawl, droning in Italian about what sounded to Tom like the Malleus Maleficarum, a compendium on witchcraft and demonology written by a sadistic German inquisitor in the 15th century. The silence of his audience was heavy and intense, chairs groaning now and then beneath their anxious squirms and ink pens scratching eagerly on paper.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered to her after a sudden thought.

“What?” she whispered back.

“About the nero di seppia… I looked a perfect fool all night, didn’t I?”

She giggled. Tom frowned at her.

“I warned you not to order it.”

“Yes, but perhaps next time I’d like an indication as to why.”

She was going to say something else when the doors opened, and the Baron’s audience ambled their way out. The air buzzed with their excited murmurs, some laughing nervously, some crying.

The pair of them got up, ready to greet the Baron. Tom looked over the crowd as they filed out, a mixed group of all sorts of people, from students to the elderly.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“He’s coming over,” she said.

“Where? I can’t —” He was going to say he couldn’t see anyone else, but then he looked down.

The figure that approached them was far from what he had imagined. Although not diminutive in size, the white and wrinkly lump that came took Tom by surprise. He sat, like a deflated balloon, in a stout but polished wheelchair, and was rolling toward them.

“Hello, Baron,” she greeted with a little bow. “Thank you for seeing us today. This is —”

“Come to my office,” said the old man as he rolled right past them.

The room was golden-lit with deep and intimate colours, as natural as an autumn forest. There was something to look at everywhere. The walls were dense with paintings and photographs in black and brown of little groups of men. The chairs were wide, majestic things with crimson wings and cushions. The carpet was a floral red, the windows tall and gilded. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, low and opulent and gleaming, and from a cabinet on the side a set of golden spoons with handles like rose stems shone among fine china glasses shaped like gaping koi. It couldn’t be anything further from what Tom was used to.

The Baron’s desk was small and delicate, overburdened with ink wells and notes, a lone lamp hard at work between them.

“So, how are you?” the Baron asked them once they were alone.

“Very well,” she answered, smiling widely. “And you, Baron?”

“Fit as an ox on the field, and twice as strong,” he answered in an imposing voice. “Is this him?”

“Yes,” she said, her nervous gaze flitting to Tom. “Should I —”

“Thank you. You may go.”

She nodded and turned without another word to Tom, her eyes lingering on his for just a moment as if to wish good luck. He watched her as she left like a chastened child, then turned his attention back to the old man.

“Pleased to meet you, Baron,” he said with a light bow. “My name is Tom Riddle. At your service.”

The man rolled his way slowly from behind the table, his face set in a frown — or perhaps the rolls of skin were so heavy that it was his fixed expression. He’d clearly been corpulent once, but old age and disability drained him of his strength. He stopped in front of Tom, the wheels almost atop his shoes, and extended his hand — to shake? to kiss? Tom had never met muggle nobility before… Although he was looking at him from two feet below, the old still managed to look down his nose at him.

Tom squared his shoulders, took a breath, and shook the Baron’s hand.

“Julius Eugenio Victor Agarda,” he introduced himself. His grip was still quite strong. His mouth seemed flimsy beneath a sparse moustache, and he spoke with a slight lisp — unless Tom’s eyes deceived him, he was missing a few teeth — but his eyes, a clear blue, had a steady gleam to them. “How do you do?”

“I’m well, sir, thank you,” said Tom, finally getting his hand back. “I came about the books.”

“So I’ve heard.”

With a flourish, the Baron directed Tom’s attention to the right, where a pair of doors stood closed.

“Help me with those, will you?”

Tom looked at him, feeling a bit puzzled, but he maintained his air of calm. He steadied the messenger bag over his shoulder and bowed.

“Of course, sir,” he smiled.

The doors were delicate and white, with carvings on their edges like a frame. Tom grabbed the brass handles and pushed. Beyond them was a large and sunny room in the same style as the Baron’s office but much wider. Its centre was dominated by a dark brown table and its walls with books. The east of the room was all tall windows framed by a thin balcony, and beyond that was the street and the canals.

“My most precious possession. My private collection.”

Tom rolled the Baron through, but quickly let go of him to stroll along the bookshelves without waiting for an invitation. They held every kind of esoterica, from the Corpus Hermeticum to the Grimoire of Armadel. Archidoxis was there, as was De Umbris Idearum, a book Tom had not seen since his first year at Hogwarts.

Others were more recent books, like a cluster on Bacchanal arts written in the 19th century. There stood among them also a well-worn copy of the Metaphysics of Sex. Tom curled his nose at it and looked over his shoulder with disgust. Some books were held in chains, with locks connected to the bookcase, and others were held safe behind glass panes, bright lights in the darkness.

“Impressed?” asked the Baron from the doorway.

“A remarkable collection,” said Tom as he turned.

The old man rolled forward with a peculiar twist of his heavy brows that Tom suspected to be pride. He went to one shelf in particular and reached as high up as he could, carefully picking out a volume. It was bound in leather so aged it was completely black, its spine capped in silver fastenings.

“Look at this,” the Baron said.

Tom stepped forward and carefully lifted it from his hands.

“Michael Psellus, De Operation Daemonum,” Tom read. “Byzantine books on demonology are hard to come by. It must be worth a fortune.”

“Seventeenth-century edition,” he said, slipping right over Tom’s praises. “One of five copies. They survived hidden among the volumes of Psellus’ Mathematics. Only the most important families of the time had access to them.”

Tom smirked. With the Baron’s toothless mouth and his scraggly sparse hair, he didn’t cut a very noble figure. “I don’t suppose you inherited it.”

The Baron took the book from him and set it on his lap, his fat hands folded over it. “I might have,” he said measuredly. “My family traces its roots to the eleven hundreds.”

A mocking smile played on Tom’s lips. He hid it with a timely bow. He’d rather not tell the old man he could brag of the same through Salazar, and so instead he said, “I’m honoured, then, to be in your presence.” But he didn’t hide as well as he meant to.

“Don’t be obsequious,” said the Baron tersely.

Tom straightened and looked down at him, steadying the strap over his shoulder once again.

“I showed my collection to you to illustrate a point. I have some of the rarest editions in my collection, first. And second, there is nothing that I want that I cannot acquire. Now, you may attempt to barter with me.”

Tom regarded the old man coolly for a moment, then took the messenger bag off his shoulder and placed it on the table. The Baron, after that little speech meant to humble him, had nevertheless given himself away: he may have had a grand collection, but he was still willing to entertain a nobody, a stranger, an unknown, for a chance at something rarer. A small man with a big ego and an insatiable hunger, Tom thought, I am well familiar with his kind.

“Then let me show you what I’ve brought for you today,” he said, “and you’ll tell me if it meets with your approval.”

The Baron went to place the books back on its shelves, and by the time he turned back, Tom had lined them all along the table.

There were six books in total. First was the Liber de Lamiis et Phitonicis Mulieribus, a 15th-century manuscript on witches and demonic possession. Then, the Liber Belial,a medieval grimoire with an unknown author, highly sought after and obscure. He took out The Grimorium Verum, an illuminated copy of The Sworn Book of Honorius, the Codex Palatinus Germanicus, and finally the colourful Le Livre de la Vigne Nostre Seigneur.

The Baron approached, retrieving from his breast pocket a thin-rimmed monocle that he perched upon his nose. He looked down at the books while Tom waited a little to the side, one hand stuffed casually in his pocket.

He picked the first one up, his old hands trembling slightly, and opened it, spine cracking. He threw his eyes over the frontispiece, then peeled away the first few pages.

Tom waited patiently as the Baron looked through the second book, and the third, and not a word was said. He could only hope the illusions he had cast on them would hold. It was difficult to even tell what the old bastard was thinking.

When the Baron was done, he took the monocle off, and slowly rolled to face him.

“Remarkable,” he said, his fat plum lips aquiver. “What vitality in these images… And The Grimorium Verum in particular I have been hunting for years.Where did you find them?”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief and grinned. “I’m afraid that will have to remain one of their mysteries. So, I take it you are interested in a trade?”

“I am,” he grumbled, taking from his pocket the list of books Tom had provided, “but it can not go forward.”

Tom cocked a brow. “And why is that?”

The Baron rolled forward and past him, going back into his office. Tom frowned at him and packed the books again before he joined him. With one last longing look at the vast library, he turned and closed the doors behind him.

The Baron was back behind his desk, stuffing a black pipe with tobacco.

“I wish I could,” said the old man, “but I cannot afford it.”

“I’m sure we could —”

“No,” he said, “I do not mean fiscally. I mean ethically.”

Tom regarded him without blinking for a moment. He searched the Baron’s mind for truth and found only a nest of brambles. Too many ideas, conflicts and confusion, plans that stood to shatter at the lightest touch. How much was going on with his little bookshop? Was it to do with that ‘auction’ he’d heard about?

“I don’t see how ethics come into it.”

“Nor do I,” chuckled the Baron with a puff. “That’s the problem.”

He fixed his steely gaze on Tom, and then he understood. Distrust. The old man didn’t trust him.

“Ah,” Tom smiled, “that is a pity.” He bowed, the books tight by his side. “Thank you, nevertheless, for your time. I shall be in Rome for at least another month. If your ethics should change, I would be honoured to be invited to see you again.”

“Be sure I let those books leave my office with a heavy heart, Mr. Riddle.”

“Oh, I know, Baron,” he grinned. “But you might yet see them again. And me.”

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient

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briar-rolfes-research-oubliette · 3 months

Text

ON MONDAY, I (FINALLY) MADE IT ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE NEWEST ERAGON BOOK!

MURTAGH

“A Book I Read”

It took three very patient friends of mine to encourage me to finish reading this. I took notes the whole way through, and I am now sharing those in hope of finding loving community with my fellow haters.

Important context:

I loved Eragon, which came out when I was roughly eleven

Christopher Paolini was the first author to ever disappoint me

I used to love epic fantasy, until feminism, coming out, and learning about literary criticism made me just too mean to enjoy it

Since 2015, whenever I’ve had writer’s block, I’ve found inspiration by looking at this screenshot:

Christopher has managed to create a life where his mum has never stopped doing his laundry or his editing for him. He has never worked a job in his life. He has infinite time to work on his craft, and yet, with all of those advantages, he writes the way he does. I don’t hate him, but I do want to destroy him in single combat.

LET US BEGIN.

17 November 2023

I forgot how obsessed this man is with proving he knows rare words. Picking up my phone to google the word “trenchant”.

He really just didn’t want to say the dragon had a sharp sense of humour huh? Oh, no, it’s TRENCHANT. It wasn’t even for dialogue I identified as comedy but Murtagh thought it was TRENCHANT. He and Thorn have been alone in the wilderness for too long

NOT NASUADA BEING DESCRIBED AS HAVING ALMOND EYES

Of course the protagonist has grown a beard. He’s A Man Now.

I have a theory that this book is about coming to terms with marriage. Murtagh is like “our bond… our bond that lasts until death… the oldest magic… only the two of us understand each other. But, we’re also trapped with each other,” and I’m like hm. Fascinating. Say more

Instantly Murt befriends a child, to prove he is good really.

It’s so weird to read a book by a grown man with kids who is like “how did we all start out so innocent and pure…” like have you MET five year olds

This whole fork fight scene makes me feel second hand embarrassment deep in my soul. It’s SO This Guy Is The Best And Coolest

“Fencing with effortless ease” I do not care how well trained he is: you cannot kill four men with long swords by stabbing them with a little fork in “four hard impacts.” It’s just not happening.

I’m really dwelling on the idea of magic as “imposing your will” on something. It’s very.., something. Murtagh cleans his shirt by “imposing his will on the garment” like. Okay, I suppose in a way that is how all laundry is done, but it’s. Hm.

How come he’ll clean a shirt with magic but not shave with magic? Why are these books SO obsessed with beards and shaving and how to do shave and using magic for shaving etc etc, Eragon was also majorly preoccupied with this

Paolini’s got so many complexes on the page. All the “we’re half brothers and your dad killed my dad” stuff is A LOT

The naming stuff… SMH what would Ursula Le Guin say about all this

I’m obsessed with how even as (gasp) an OUTCAST!! Murtagh can’t not be the coolest guy ever for any time at all. It’s like a disease

Giving the child the enchanted killing fork was the worst decision ever made. Murtagh gives her a murder weapon and is then moping like “what’s it like… to live without killing…” literally pages later.

I’m really startled that Murt is delighted to see a tiny flying magical grass boat come down from the sky and circle him instead of being like “wtf, I’m being Watched,” which would be the true act of a man we are told is paranoid

I just got to the bit where Murtagh offhandedly says that magic users who “are the heaviest” always have the most spell reserves.

Like……… what???? Magic eats your fat?? It burns glucose??

You could be a better mage if you just, ate a bunch of raspberry frogs before each fight??????

It’s food powered??? You really want to go there, Paolini????? Wizards in the candy shop, eating sweeties like Mistborns?

GOD, if only Galbatorix had chugged a bottle of red cordial before his last big fight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I return after losing my mind about this to my partner for forty minutes)

If it was “if you’re hungry you can’t FOCUS” I’d get it. But I always assumed it was like, you know how other fantasy does it? Some kind of pool of ADDITIONAL energy that you are accessing and that can be used up (until you go too far and start using life force or whatever). Like, it’s CHANNELLING it that makes you tired, not that it’s literal food energy.

Murtagh is always running or doing his sword forms or whatever and now I’m like “DUDE, NO!!!?!? DON’T BURN YOUR WIZARD CALORIES!!?!?”

I like when magic can’t do EVERYTHING, when it’s consistent or limited in some way, but I do hate the idea that it’s this predictable. Food energy becomes raw magical power. I GUESS.

(A little later)

Screaming at the suggestion Thorn can tell when Murtagh is horny.

I don’t like the euphemisms. It makes it worse

The fact he can’t talk to his dragon whenever they’re “too far apart” (distance never specified) is making me insane. Why did I pick up the dragon riding book if it’s mostly about leaving your dragon locked up at the bike rack

I know Thorn is basically a rescue dog with anxiety, but it bothers me how much he’s left on his own. The narrative just has no idea what to use him for other than speedy transport for the first um… 200 pages, it seems? He’s meant to be his own creature with his own intelligence. He doesn’t go anywhere without Murtagh though. So what is he doing all the time

I think Paolini WANTS his world to be big and mysterious (his introduction literally just keeps saying things in the world of the story are mysterious) but he HAS to keep explaining everything

24 November 2023

I’ve figured out something that annoys me about the world of this book, in terms of just how the worldbuilding is not actually that magical. It has the D&D problem!!! Which is to say that every regular person on earth is Level One and every important character is like, level 12. And part of what makes that even worse is that all women in this world are level zero.

I’ve been watching my friend Chris play the first Alan Wake game and we realised that all the faceless enemies that are possessed by Evil in the game are… working class men. The protagonist is this literate wealthy New York writer who is constantly killing faceless workers—farmers, loggers, coal miners, builders. And that’s not an INTENTIONAL commentary by the game, but it’s very revealing. And This book is the same in that: there is no such thing as a complicated poor person. They’re all either Dirty Evil or Dirty Good. Murtagh is going around, writing poetry in his head and inventing magical computer code, and then every child is an urchin who is like Oi Guvnah, and every dad is gruff, and every woman is worried.

The language used to describe everyone who isn’t a Fighting Man is so demeaning. And even then, we only need to respect the leaders of those men. The leaders are the only ones with depth who might need to be taken seriously.

It’s like Murtagh has a tally in his head where he is going “finally, a guy who is level 6”!

Most people in this world exist to deliver information to the protagonist.

Paolini either thinks his readers are too dumb to understand that his characters exist between scenes, or he doesn’t understand himself that we don’t need to see every time Murtagh enters a city under a new name and how he does it. Or know what he ate for dinner and how he prepared it and where he slept and what he dreamed and, and, and—

It’s weird because Paolini is being self indulgent as fuck but it is NOT fun to read. This dude really just needs to go write a survival story or something… A guy in the woods depending on nothing but his wits and his axe and his beard and his libertarian values

I don’t understand the stakes at play. All the magic scenes with Mind Penetration are so sudden and hard to actually understand as action. And the way it works is about brute force, so the dragon is not going to be at risk of being taken over except by another, even bigger dragon

It would be fun to read the Murtagh city sleuth segments if Thorn was backseat driving a little. I think that their bond should not get thinner over distance. The fact that it does just defeats the point of a magical bond.

Why does the dragon have to stay so far away? Like… it’s established that there’s a spell to conceal a dragon from sight. Dude. You could just go fucking invisible

There’s so many decisions that just are so bonkers to have made. The whole fetch quest for information pissed me off so bad. “You have to join the guard” (40 pages of emotions about uniforms ensue). This guy learned about plots from video games

Paolini had kids apparently, but you can tell he doesn’t really understand kids. “How do they all start out so innocent and pure,” says a man who has never heard a seven year old describe someone being killed by farts before.

The description of Murtagh carrying a cat that doesn’t want to be carried is very funny. I don’t know if Paolini has ever carried a cat before. If you’re carrying a cat that doesn’t want to be carried close to your chest, and you tighten your grip when it squirms… say goodbye to your nipples, my man

It’s strange how much Paolini doesn’t explore the things that seem to be the point. FOR EXAMPLE, the fantasy soul bond trope loves to say “even during sex!??! 👀” because it’s about INTIMACY, and some alien presence always being there. The dragon rider trope is popular because dragons are powerful and wise but also Beasts. Magic is fun to read about because it can do things that can’t be explained.

Paolini’s world is big, but nothing in it has any real substance. Nothing in it has any real consequence, and it makes it impossible to really invest in anything that happens. None of these poor city folks have a life once they leave the scene of delivering Murtagh information… or if they are a woman, delivering him a hot meal. There’s no sense of a world that exists outside Murtagh’s point of view!

25 November 2023

The towns so far don’t feel at all distinctive to me! I was interested in the one with the massive lake, but then it having this massive fish in it was the only point of interest. It would be fun to have been like “oh the fish has ruined our summer festival! It’s ruined the nobility pleasure cruises! It’s also eating fishermen!” Or “Why do all these fishing boats have huge spikes on the prow? Well,”

Again, these guys are all level one in peasant dirt town. They have no capacity for individual thought and no ability to adapt.

It’s like Paolini doesn’t know what makes people and places in fantasy feel distinct, or have culture. It’s so evident in how much he HASN’T thought about. For example, the bonkers amount of restrictive gender norms that he doesn’t seem AT ALL CONSCIOUS OF? Everyone who died in the war was A Man. No women died in the war. But that hasn’t resulted in any social changes. There aren’t more women doing work, for example, like being fishermen

I remember being thirteen or so and reading the bit in the second book where Arya explains to Eragon that she’s better and stronger than a human woman, because she is an elf, so Eragon doesn’t have to worry about her in battle. I was this kid there like “man, that sucks. I assume he’s coming back to that assumption later,” and… he never did. He still hasn’t. And that sucks

The dragon riders were not THAT long ago, in the world of these books. It makes me wonder—were none of them human women? I always assumed that some were human women, but… did dragons only choose elf men, elf women, and human men? If they chose human women, then even being accepted into a paramilitary dragon force didn’t change gender expectations in the rest of the world. What the fuck. He’s really never thought about this.

Women keep showing up as cunning-mysterious, as humble dirtmothers, or as innocent children. Oh my god I’m just describing maiden mother crone. That’s all he’s capable of.

I just got up to where he rescues the werecat baby (innocent girl child) and settles in to hear the stories of elder werecat (cunning-mysterious)

I noticed the Arya Problem with how Nasuada is described in this book, too. Every woman has to be the best, most capable, most powerful woman ever, to be worth the attention of The Boys. Otherwise they can’t respect her. Only two literal queens can be considered worthy of just two average guys who got pet lizards. Even then, they’re not actual equals.

“She still empathised for me.” Yes, don’t worry, Murtagh, I remember that’s what women are for.

I should note that the reason Nasuada is considered so powerful and so much worthy of his love and is her strength as a person. This is proven in the Eragon books because “she still empathised” with Murtagh whilst he was medieval torturing her. He was medieval torturing her for like… most of a book and that’s how they fell in love. Because she could see in his eyes that this guy torturing her… was Complicated. He didn’t really WANT to be medieval torturing her so she actually felt worse for him than he felt about how he was (and I can’t stress this enough) medieval torturing her

I just can’t imagine that THE QUEEN OF A WHOLE CONTINENT would still prefer the guy who sadly tortured her. He’s her top preference. Out of EVERY OTHER MAN IN THE WORLD

I put the book down until the day before I was meant to have finished the book for book club:

10 March 2024: from page 274 onwards

The evil witch is called BACHEL?????!!?!??!? Fucking BACHEL. Pronounced “buh-SHELL”, the guide at the back says. You changed one letter in Rachel, don’t lie to me Paolini

I got so mad being reminded the evil king Galbatorix was defeated by “Eragon forcing empathy upon him” so that he magically exploded himself out of guilt that I had to put the book down and complain to Charlie for five straight minutes

I guess that’s why Galbatorix made Murtagh torture Nasuada for him. He knew that if he’d done it himself she would have empathised with him too hard and he would’ve exploded himself

Murtagh has never met a single person he has respected. Murtagh is the specialest boy in all the land. Eragon had to leave the country because they were both too special to share a continent

Murtagh decided on where to go and he was immediately surrounded by armed guards who took him to where the plot was

Paolini uses the fucking word “admixed” while discussing EATING A PIE. The flavours admixed in his mouth. Just because you know a word… doesn’t mean it’s a word to deploy about eating a pie

I HATE how the only people strong enough to do the strongest magic are Elves Or Human Riders. It’s fucking magic my guy! Why is it checking your goddamn DNA! Also, hey! Wasn’t it supposed to come down to the strongest wizards being the guys who ate the most for lunch?

In a world of Magic how come every wizard battle ultimately comes down to who is a better Professor X?? I came here for fireballs, not Mind Battles. I don’t care about your Mental Wards

Hahaha Murtagh!!! Get trapdoored, bitch!!!!

Dragon panic attacks: conceptually cool but a bit ?? Like ah… the plot literally comes to scoop him up and carry him away. Yet again something outside of Murtagh makes a decision for him about what to do next

Murtagh’s poetry is going to make me explode myself like Galbatorix in book 4

If there’s something I like about this book so far it’s just the bits where he and Thorn are camping. Not flying, because then Murtagh is using the time to think and that’s horrible. The bits where they make campfires or whatever feel like something is actually happening. A guy and his dragon hanging out

Man. The way this novel is plotted really reminds me that it’s not actually that hard to write a book.

Murtagh goes to the evil village (oh yeah there’s an evil village. It is where Bachel lives. She is evil because she does magic without using the magic language). The village is called:

NAL GORGOTH

But I couldn’t remember this so I kept referring to it in my head by another, more familiar, name

Murtagh is so freaked out by finding a village with architecture that he doesn’t recognise. He’s like “My god!!! Nasuada has to be warned!!!” Ok but about what??? New ways of building pillars???? The art deco movement threatens the land??

Kinda fascinated by how much this village represents a threat to CULTURE. The architecture, the people… Everything about it so far is designed to be A Foreign Threat. The inhabitants are Of All Races (except elves they are too cool too pure etc). The humans have A VARIETY OF SKIN COLOURS, which memorably never happens in Alagaesia, a continent once explicitly described in the Eragon books as only having two (2) black people on it at all (then one died) (the other is Nasuada) (the one who died was her dad)

This guy with a goatee isn’t quite human. He is maybe part urgal and he is so uncomfortable to look at! Mainly he has arms that are a bit too long!! Bachel isn’t a human and also isn’t an elf, and that’s also deeply unsettling.

Bachel also fundamentally represents a threat to THE STRUCTURING POWER OF LANGUAGE, huh??

Bachel is so far the most interesting character in the book!

Bachel has: ALMOND EYES and AMBER SKIN

Murtagh is so upset and confused when Bachel calls him “my son” like… I’m cryign. “But she’s not my mother! I know my mother!!” he thinks, in a panic.

If this was a fantasy novel written twenty to thirty years ago, then the sexual tension between Murtagh and Bachel would be absolutely insane. Alas, this is a world of abstinence, and sexuality is only ever meaningful looks between a queen and the guy who tortured her (it is weird how he keeps caressing Nasuada’s face on the gold coins)

It’s very funny that Bachel has specifically fourteen warriors. The prose keeps telling us that there’s fourteen of them. So you get Murtagh stepping forwards and then sentences like “the fourteen warriors attending Bachel shifted”

She seems like a perfectly normal cult leader to me? Why is she automatically a threat to Nasuada! How come the two of them can’t arrange a toxic political marriage that becomes… something more 😉😉😉

Nothing annoys me more in this book than Murtagh being able to identify specific vintages of wine. It keeps happening and it pisses me off

Bachel is a half elf!!! “It had never occurred to him that such a thing might be possible.” This is truly and absolutely unbelievable to me. Nobody in this world ever has sex

How did it take so long to get to such an objectively cool village!!! Like this is just a cool place!!! Sorry that Nar Nar Goon is evil but like FINALLY something has style

Three thoughts at once:

I’m so bored that Paolini’s mind can’t get more interesting than temple virgins, let alone wearing white to represent ritualistic purity. Like… nobody in this world fucks anyway, why does it matter!

Murtagh should also wear white all the time

Lesbianism doesn’t count as a violation of being temple chosen. Alín is wearing lesbianism

Paolini has never once written a woman who is Normal. He just can’t conceive of it. You can feel how he starts sweating.

Murtagh finally realised it was a cult. What sets it apart as a cult is that the followers appear to be “half-wits” to him

I’m going to detransition to break his fucking neck

Paolini has learned nothing since he had a woman deliver the exact same line in like 2008. The fact that another editor just thumbsed this up. The fact that this is in a book published in 2023. Well, now I’m REALLY embarking on an antagonistic reading: that’s right, I am reading women as capable.

Obsessed with Bachel. She is a girlboss and I’m a feminist xxx

Book is constantly weird about how much she is capable of eating and drinking at her feasts and how it makes her appear swollen and bloated etc etc. Murtagh is so weirded out by this because he feels it is unfeminine… as though she is not a witch and we weren’t told earlier that how much magic you have is directly equal to how much you eat. (Meanwhile he is only picking at his food and eating just enough of it ‘to be polite’ as though this is not making a decision to have less magic than her)

She has so much charisma compared to anyone else in the book. If my choices are her or Murtagh then sign me up boys!!!

Okay but much like how this would’ve been a VERY charged relationship 30 years ago, I’m weirdly disappointed Bachel she isn’t not described as megahot? Like the book keeps telling me about this virginal templemaiden or whatever, because Murtagh is only attracted to women he can rescue. But I’m actually just like… I think this woman is hot. Tell me more about her. It’s wild that this book is written by a guy like Paolini, who told me all about Oromis’ pubic hair in 2008, and who barely thinks women are people. Yet he doesn’t want to discuss her tiddies?

This book could, and should! have started when Murtagh landed his dragon in the evil village of Nar Nar Goon. That’s the point that stuff got actually interesting. Everything before this was literally video game fetch quest logic plotting that earned him the right to fly to Nar Nar Goon.

Boar hunt. More like BORED hunt. And then suddenly there are so many pigs, a comical number of them flying everywhere

This motherfucker using the phrase “the boar was lying athwart him” in a sentence in an action scene????

Murtagh is nearly dead and the boar is lying athwart him?

I’m going back in time and bullying the author at school

RIP Murtagh, trambled to death by 30-50 wild hogs

Oh god every time someone knocks Murtagh out he has a vision or a bad dream or a flashback or whatever and it’s so tiring

“EXISTENCE WAS A TOMB WHEREIN THE SINS OF THE PAST LAID INTERRED???” Do you ever read a sentence that sounds so much like the author is jerking it? “All had been lost, and there before him lay the instrument of their destruction” he is furiously jerking it oh my god. “Destroyer of hope, eater of light” oh, god, he’s still going

…This book is. Weird about mothers

Murtagh flies into a rage because Bachel mercy killed a guy who was dying bc of boar trampling because “I COULD HAVE HEALED HIM!!!!!” And the mercy killing is proof it is a cult. Because doing it Bachel’s way meant the guy was too relaxed and at peace when he died

Paolini’s family were in a cult, as I understand. So it’s kind of weird how much he doesn’t really understand how being in a cult works

I don’t really remember how religion works in this world, but I do remember tuning out of a long boring passage in book 2 or 3 where Eragon learned about all the gods and decided he was an atheist. It’s especially weird to be like “holy shit, an EVIL religion??!” In a book where religion has absolutely never come up before now

Oh my god, Alìn was whipped for being ‘too familiar’ with Murtagh!!! That’s because she’s so pure and a helpless victim girl in all white :’((

In my mind Bachel and Alìn COULD be in a fucked up lesbian relationship with bad BDSM etiquette. Of course Paolini can’t imagine a world where women have enough personality or agency to fall in toxic love with each other. Also even though he has people tied up and strapped down and whipped and being tortured etc in every book don’t think he knows that BDSM like. Exists. Boooooo

Murtagh: killing one guy who is dying of a punctured lung is the ultimate evil!

Also Murtagh: I know an invisibility spell, but to sneak out of my room I am going to suffocate seven men to death

Genuinely upsetting to read those men dying. He made it impossible for air to enter or exit their lungs with a word. Veins popping clawing at faces etc. God, what a way to go. So unnecessarily cruel. Yep, there goes the good guy

The main way the village is evil is that there are unsettling carvings everywhere. Paolini read some Lovecraft, but he did not understand what was up with it. Or maybe he did, because this book did get a lot more weird about Racial Purity once Murtagh arrived in Lovecraft Village

11 March 2024

There’s a bloodstain that “filled Murtagh with the apprehension of evil” and it confused me because these books are so gory. Earlier he killed four men with a fork. But like oh yeah I guess it’s because when Murtagh murders people now it’s bloodless. I guess. His murders are good you see

This chapter is called The Bad Sleep-Well you can tell Paolini thought he was a real genius for this one

Okay but why are there bats… roosting… in a cave… at night. And why is Murtagh worried that red light will risk waking them? Animals cannot see red light?? SOME FARM BOY YOU ARE, PAOLINI

Okay I have to stop nitpicking. I have to restrain myself until my Vyvanse kicks in

“Murtagh felt a sense of not just age but antiquity. Whoever had built the stairs had done so long before Alagaesia had been a settled place. What was it Bachel had said? That the cultists had lived in Nal Gorgoth since before elves were elves... He was starting to think she had told the truth.”

Sorry uhhhh, Alagaesia was settled?? When they talk about The Grey Ones, are they talking about a race PRIOR TO COLONISATION?????????

“He continued forward. Deeper into the womb of the earth. Deeper into the black unknown, seeking, seeking, always seeking a farther shore, every sense razor-sharp and razor-scraped, skin all goosefleshed, cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck and gathering around his belted waist.”

God it’s so overwrought...

He found the well!!

Oh my god. The well is a natural magic hotspot and that means it “wasn’t the sort of thing that the Draumar ought to have dominion over.” It’s a natural resource???

“Not that he would want Du Vrangr Gata to assume control over such an important location either. This was exactly what the Riders had been created for: to oversee and mediate that which could destabilize the land.”

Murtagh is going to bring democracy to the Middle East

He’s too scared to mentally contact his dragon with Bachel around. If he was a proper horse girl he would find a way

Oh Galbatorix BECAME evil because he met Bachel and she manipulated him. Haha oh dear. No, you can’t just come to the conclusion the dragon rider paramilitary force who controls the resources are bad on your own. Not just because they sent you into the mountains when they knew it was dangerous and wanted to find out if you’d be killed up there! No, a manipulation had to have happened

It’s funny to me that the evil ancient witch queen who lives in seclusion in the mountains uses the new name for the city of Uru’baen. Oh no, she knows it as Ilirea. She’s hundreds and hundreds of years old. You know what that is? Evidence of Find And Replace, to me.

Bachel’s eyes are “glowing with fevered ecstasy.” I could make her feel that way. Also. Because, I know about sex

Always with the fucking passing out at the end of the chapter for Christopher James Paolini

NOW Bachel is being described appropriately as a hottie. FINALLY. GOD! It only took Murtagh being mind controlled in his brain but I. I!!! I could see the glorious light of truth!!

“He followed, dumb and wildered.” Well, not as much as that sentence. (You can be bewildered. But can you ever just be wildered????)

The dedication to making Murtagh the most pitiful little meow meow in existence in the Galbatorix flashbacks I’m… what happened to the joys of a guy who is evil because he was convinced or was tricked, not because he was fully brain abused???

The Urgals are racially… uncomfortable. Yellow eyes and Murtagh just straight up saying “how do you speak English”

The evil guys have masks and they put them on and like channel the animals the masks are of and on one hand it’s an idea I THINK is cool but also combined with the everything it really has this “tribal stuff is threatening” vibe all over it

“What do you want, witch?”

“I want you.”

Obsessed with how he’s shackled to a table and there’s still an incredible lack of sexual energy to this scene. This is like a day at the office for both of them.

… oh, but she is wearing claws and claws DOES equal a threat of penetration. Maybe a little sexual? As a treat??

Him being tortured reminds him of torturing Nasuada. Wow, it was their first date!

It’s just like. It’s fucked up imo. She should never kiss you Murtagh!!!

Is anything more boring than a torture scene.

Also, was he not drugged right before this scene? How is he able to mentally evade her and power his wards etc?

I’m mad that when he’s brought fancy foods by Alìn he doesn’t share his food with Ubek the Urgal

Oh my god Ubek tells him a story where the moral is just him outright saying at the end, “it’s important to stay close to the people we care for, even if we don’t always fit in so easily” lmao. Subtlety of a mallet

Is anything more boring than a torture scene? How about a torture chapter!!!1!1!1!

This chapter is interminable. Oh my god.

Oh, so we did all that and he gives in I guess. I can’t believe how little agency this man has had throughout this book????

Haha oh my god, Bachel is studying his nude and compliant body in front of her court. Telling him to turn around so she can inspect his back (no mention of his ass even though it is out, tragic). Fucking love it. Now that’s bdsm. Pledging my allegiance to her instantly.

I am BORED. I liked when he was at least doing things of his own volition!

He flies his dragon off on Bachel’s orders and we get the line “Never had air smelled so… so… delicious.” Cryign

GASP he’s killed… CHILDREN!!!!!!! I hate how it only becomes horrifying for him to have done these murders once he realises they’re HUMAN children. Urgal children? The implication is that would’ve been a bit tacky but ultimately fine

Prison brothers blood pact. I feel so little about this. Ubek is 5000x more interesting than Murtagh but he’s been slotted into what is unfortunately a sort of magical indigenous person trope but where instead of being a human being, he is an orc. Which makes the whole trope much worse

Murtagh touched Alìn’s face… gasp! She’s been corrupted by the Touch Of A Man!!!!! (I do not care about this.)

(I care a little. For example she didn’t touch HIM. He just reached out and she didn’t pull away. This is the biggest decision about this character’s life, and she isn’t even allowed to be the one who makes it. He decides on her behalf, and she must be okay with it. Because she doesn’t pull away or fight him off.)

(Also Paolini doesn’t seem to be aware that ‘a woman who has been pledged not to be touched by a man’ would um. USUALLY be understood by a reader as euphemistic. Not that her purity could be forever ruined by a man literally just touching her face)

The way Paolini fills Murtagh’s brainwashed dialogue with oops all ellipses makes me want to tear the book apart with my teeth

Worst: how Grieve the guy who is part urgal is perpetually referred to as “heavy-browed.” “the heavy-browed Grieve” I’m sorry but I missed phrenology school, is that bad??

Also if he’s maybe part Urgal but Murtagh is now given a chance to making it clear that some of his best friends are urgals... Why is Grieve so distastefully described? What’s wrong with being half urgal? My suspicion: it’s the bloodlines intermingling

I suspect I can just skip every fucking dream sequence and flashback. Nothing of any value in these

This one guy, Lyreth, who trapdoored Murtagh for 2.5 seconds ages ago in the book, is TWICE referenced as holding/ touching the waists of “village” or “cultist” women in his dialogue tags. That’s the full extent of it. It’s not that there’s a giggling tavern girl sprawled in his lap while he’s speaking. These faceless women are exclusively sketched into existence by how a named male character’s hand is on their waist. We don’t know anything about how they are responding to his touch, which is extra in-your-face considering that Murtagh just obliterated a woman’s ritual purity by touching her face without asking. And it’s only ever these women’s waist. It’s not their hips or thighs or boobs. He’s not kissing their necks. I’m sure in Paolini’s mind this guy touching women’s waists is meant to read as sexual, which is supposed to reinforce that he’s a scumbag… but it doesn’t work because it’s so impersonal. These women are just… unmoving waists that he is just touching. It serves as a good illustration of how women—and sex and sexuality and bodies—are handled in these books. Men are never ruled by their strong and muscular bodies. Men have minds, and magic, and telepathy battles. Even when Murtagh is on a torture table or when he’s naked in front of a powerful woman who is actively inspecting his body, he doesn’t feel vulnerable. He doesn’t have an ass or a dick. The wind doesn’t make him shiver. He’s just a Mind. But women, well. They only have bodies when men touch them. The course of Alin’s life is defined by Murtagh’s touch, and even Nasuada, a fucking queen, only gets physical description via the coins Murtagh has in his possession and his memory of the cuts and bruises he left on her body. And women also have no minds—unless they’re werecats or elves or half elves, the only kind of woman who are remotely threatening, the only kind of women who are “as good as” the baseline of human men. Nasuada is proven as Murtagh’s equal because she was able to overcome the torture of her body. If he hadn’t tortured her, or if she had broken down, she wouldn’t have proven herself worthy of being his romantic partner.

Eragon’s romantic interest also started out being tortured. Not by him, but “girl who is tortured but is too strong to give up her secrets” was her entire characterisation for a book and a half, until he rescued her. That’s uh. That’s how you find girlfriends who are good enough for your protagonists.

THESE FUCKING BOOKS.

Bachel has put Thorn in a special wrought iron muzzle. Yet again, this is just objectively cool

We learn about who the cult worships: evil dragon underground. He makes fumes come out of the earth and they brainwash people and give them visions. He will come out of the ground and eat the sun unless every living thing worships him.

Really Bachel is not leading a cult she is leading an environmental rescue mission. Quick we gotta get everyone to worship this evil dragon STAT, or he’s going to wipe out all life on earth.

Why does an evil dragon living under the earth with the power to eat the sun (?!??!) actually want or need to be worshipped by “every living thing”. What is his motivation?? And why would that stop him eating the sun?

“The sculptures would have horrified most any artist in Alagaesia, no matter their race.” Mark this down as one of the worst sentences he has written yet!!

I realise now I’ve been misremembering multiple main characters’ names

I like Bachel telling Thorn to stay, like he’s a dog. That’s good to me

Murtagh is learning about the power of friendship to heal himself last minute, I guess

Why is Murtagh pausing to duel fucking Lyreth, the most boring man in the world. Is it because of the waists he touched??? I have never felt this man was worth any time at all

NOT Paolini specifically pointing out that Lyreth “smelled of a cloying peach scented perfume” and that he’s physically weaker than Murtagh as Murtagh overcomes him. Lyreth was too feminine to be strong, in the end

This book is obsessed with the word “youngling.” Murtagh says to Thorn “don’t kill any younglings.” He’s fighting Lyreth but he’s not worried because he himself is “no longer a youngling”. Fucking fuck off! just say youth. Child. Kid. Teenager even!! Come on!!

Murtagh going “this is taking too long” in the duel: me at the whole book thus far

“Is wrong-think to worship Bachel or Azlagur,” says Ubek. This is real dialogue in a book published in real 2023. Oh yeah btw everything he says is written like this

Oh, the urgal’s size and brute strength makes him Murtagh’s equal. I see

Grieve is legitimately yelling “kill the non-believers!!” and calling them desecrators??? Cartoon hours

To start winning the fight, all Murtagh had to do was find his magic sword! It stores all his potency and he inherited it from his father. Freud?? Don’t worry about it

The cultists are bleeding green blood???? Does this mean they’re not human or is it the lighting or what.

Groups of dragons are always being described as a Thunder Of. They’re only ever being described in visions but it’s always being described as “a thunder of dragons”, because Paolini is very proud of inventing his very own collective noun for dragons I guess

Buncha little pasty freaks showing up.

Murtagh’s ultimate challenge: he has to fight one hundred gollums

Paolini inventing new guys for his dungeon at unprecedented rates

Murtagh is legitimately busy trying to think of new names for his sword NOW?? He is just going to stop in the middle of this urgent fight to go find where the bad woman (Bachel) took the good woman (Alìn) to go “my sword has a bad name. It could have a good name.” Did he not have time while he was mouldering in the dungeon to think about this

He’s checking his compendium, like in video games.

Books have never been worse. If Murtagh/Paolini calls this sword Scar I will legitimately never know peace

Oh the sword is called Freedom now. Get it? Like America? It’s the most important value??

“Seeing the armor, Murtagh realized that the leather garb the cultists had donned for the festival of black smoke had been made to resemble Bachel's fantastic suit.”

what a sentence

This is the worst

I hate how her spear has a name and a dramatic history. Like come on

Fucking mind battles again

Alin is just… I’m sorry to her, but she’s not a real person. She’s a cardboard cutout in distress

The final boss fight should not be taking place in the magical world of the mind

Now she’s calling him “infidel?” Okay

The ultimate battle: the structuring power of masculine language versus the primeval chaos of raw women’s emotion!!! Who will win!! Hint: Christopher Paolini wrote this!

“She seemed merely a woman again.”

‘Merely’ is how Paolini always describes women (when he thinks they’re worth describing of course)

Wait… is the only reason Bachel has been intimidating REALLY just because she’s been channelling a tough evil boy dragon? Once the mask is gone and he’s not empowering her… she’s merely…

I’m going to kick Christopher Paolini’s fucking ass

Murtagh feels so emotionally close to Bachel. As he splits her skull. Normal book

For real why were ALL the Riders so afraid of Bachel??? The gas fumes? Face masks not invented?? This seems pretty easy to solve like if they’d just. Sent more than one guy?

He passes out and the chapter ends of course. Then he wakes up in the city

Ah, Alin is blonde and blue eyed. She was a pale skinned virgin who needed rescuing from an evil and also foreign almond eyed amber skinned woman who was whipping her. You know how it goes

I hate how Alìn always calls Murtagh “my lord.” She’s like one of those medieval fighting game banners of a sexy woman. She’s a cartoon.

Isn’t it a shame that when Murtagh hastily gets out of bed to bow to Nasuada he is wearing pants. So much funnier if he wasn’t

I’m so over this book holy shit

Oh, for being the apparently only sole survivor of Murtagh’s obliteration of her cult and everything she’s ever known, Alìn is being promoted to… Nasuada’s maid. That’s not what she asked for. That’s just what she’s being told she’s going to do from now on. Fucking hell.

Nasuada is Jealous of this blonde woman and I was afraid for her because Nasuada is also famously the only black woman on the continent. But of course she has nothing to fear because only the most powerful woman in the land could ever be remotely Murtagh’s equal, which she proved by being stronger at being tortured than him

She asks him to stay and she touches his hand just lightly

The END??

They don’t even kiss?!!!?!! I had to read it twice to be sure. SEXLESS BOOK.

#how do I tag this. probs not in the official tag right #Murtagh: Don’t Read It!!!#DONT READ IT #I can’t believe how much money Christopher Paolini is worth… I also can’t believe he managed to father two children #man doesn’t know what women children OR sex are. how did he manage to solve that equation twice over

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hey-august · 4 months

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Congratulations on your milestone, August!!! 🥳🥳 I'm so happy for you 😍 Can I have petal (gardenia) + “You’re gonna make me cry.” Thank you ♥3♥

Thank you, Venus!! 🩷🩷 I really appreciate all your encouragement! It makes me so so happy to see your likes, reblogs, comments, asks etc etc etc 🥰

Prompts: Petal (gardenia), "You’re gonna make me cry." Teaser: "[...] I don’t remember putting in an order for droopy sticks.”" Warnings: SFW, established relationship, brief profanity, it takes a moment for Buggy to show up, but he does! Word count: ~1k

Check out my 250 Follower Prompt Event and see fulfilled prompts here.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The sun hung high, dropping a bright and heavy heat onto the ship. Your shadow clung to the small perimeter it was allowed to occupy as you traveled the deck. Only a few crew members remained working under the cloudless sky, cursing those who had taken refuge in the cool belly of the ship. Your passing presence was overlooked as they fixated on completing the tasks at hand and retreating from the sun’s aggression.

Your feet picked up the pace, matching the speed of the sweat beading on your forehead. Although your body was trying to cool itself, the layer of saltwater only added to the constricting heat. As much as you’d also like to avoid the oppressive heat, there was something important you needed to do.

A ship this size has a few areas that are visited rarely - usually only by those required and just often enough to ensure there aren’t any problems. In this case, you were headed to such an area due to a self-imposed requirement and because you knew there was a time-sensitive problem.

At the stern of the ship was a small maze of storage. Crates and barrels were stacked and strewn with careless intention. The minimum amount of planning was used to organize the wooden containers in a way that each one could be accessed and checked with relative ease. This left behind a few unused nooks as items graduated from storage to in-use. And in one such nook were a few planters with greenery that was becoming less green with each passing minute.

Crouching low, you looked at the plants you’ve cared for since they were seeds. You didn’t expect they would sprout, but they did. You didn’t know if they’d take to life at sea, but they did. You didn’t think they’d live long enough to bloom, but they were trying.

Your heart ached at the sight of their wilting leaves. You pinched a few, examining how the soft rubbery foliage rolled. There was still hope.

The plants needed to get out of the hot sun. But you also needed to keep them out of sight, at least until they bloomed. You had been working on this surprise for so long and the swollen buds meant the end was close. If they survived.

You swiped at the sweat on your forehead, which only served to gather the liquid and create fat drops that escaped down your hand and the sides of your face. You would need a drink after this and so would the plants. So not only did you have to find a safe place, but you also need to hydrate them. Without being noticed.

Maybe there was a space nearby that would work, at least temporarily. It would be better to bring the planters inside, but even a shady area would be better than nothing right now. You stood up and turned to assess your options, only to be met with an unexpected audience sitting atop a nearby crate.

Buggy kicked his feet against the wood and waggled his fingers at you in a nonchalant wave. The pirate clown had shed most of his usual attire in favor of a version that was better suited for the heat. The open vest showed his glistening chest and arms, signs that the pirate had been out in the sun nearly as long as you.

“Fuck, Buggy! What are you doing here?” you said indignantly, shuffling to the side to block his view of the plants.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” was his quick retort. “It’s too hot to be skulking around like this.”

“Uh, yeah. You head back inside and I’ll be there in a minute. Actually, I’m thirsty. Why don’t you grab some drinks for us?”

“Them too?” Buggy gestured to what was behind you.

You hesitated. Your captain was exactly who you wanted to keep the plants from and at this rate, you might not be able to convince him to leave long enough for you to help the fading flora. This was a surprise for him, one that could be ruined or saved by his presence. If the plants died, then you’d have nothing.

“Yeah…them too. It’s too hot for them,” you said, walking over to Buggy and standing between his still swinging legs.

“Why are they even here? I don’t remember putting in an order for droopy sticks.”

You slapped his knee, despite the joking grin that accompanied his quip.

“They’re mine. I’ve been growing them and wanted to keep them a secret until they bloomed. They’re supposed to look beautiful…” You couldn’t hide the apprehension at the end. They had meant so much to you.

“I got seeds from that old guy on the island a few months back. I wanted to… They’re…”

Buggy raised his eyebrows but stayed surprisingly quiet. Probably an attempt to conserve energy while under the boiling sun.

“I was growing them for you. They’re supposed to be gardenias and they reminded me of you. I wanted- They’re supposed to be a thank you for everything.”

“Oh stop, you’re gonna make me cry,” Buggy teased, as he dragged a finger down his cheek from the corner of his eye. The movement only highlighted the truth behind the extra mist in his eyes and the quiver in his lip.

Slapping his knee again, you teased back, “Don’t, you’ll only dehydrate yourself in this heat. You’d probably fall apart into a pile of dust, instead of body parts.”

Buggy convinced you to move the plants into your shared quarters. The room would be cooler and would collect enough light for the blooms.

Together, you scooped up the three containers. Buggy looked at the stakes in each planter, labeling the different varieties: August Beauty, Crown Jewel, and Celestial Star. Buggy rolled his eyes in an attempt to spread out the excess moisture they were collecting. He didn’t know what the flowers would look like, but he knew enough to understand why you picked them as a thank you for him.

“I can’t wait to see the flowers, they’re going to be so flashy,” Buggy proudly announced once the containers were settled in their new home and soaking up water.

His unabashed excitement was contagious. You threw your arms around the pirate, ignoring how you stuck together, and planted kisses all over his face. Although the flowers were supposed to be a way for you to show your appreciation, there were other things you could do in the meantime.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #hey-august 250 follower event

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the-one-true-nobody · 9 months

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I've been acquainted with Grand Admiral Thrawn ever since I picked up Timothy Zahn's Heir to the Empire from the school library around ninth grade or so. He was such an interesting villain to me at the time, and that impression hasn't lessened with age. Being the key antagonist in one of the old Star Wars expanded universe's first big storylines, he's also kind of a major figure of the whole darn beyond-the-movies canon, in the same way that Darth Revan is. And he kind of filled a void that the Original Trilogy left gaping wide, in the sense that—apart from the fleeting presence of Tarkin in A New Hope, the Imperial military never really had any threatening and competent military leaders at the face of things... just Darth Vader and the Emperor.

I was thrilled to see Thrawn make his live action debut in Ahsoka, and though my first visual impression of the guy was a little underwhelming. The Rebels incarnation in particularly very much had that "a strong body feeds a strong mind" kind of character and a physique to match, along with a Sherlock Holmes hawkishness to his facial features. But as soon as he opened his mouth and I realized how on-point the performance here was coming off the back of his appearances in Rebels, I was sold.

It seems some people really are very skin-deep in what they find "imposing," though, because there are a lot of complaints about how "lame" he looks, because he's "fat," or whatever. It's true, you can see it if you look at his uniform: he's got a bit of a gut going on underneath his just-slightly-frayed-and-aging Grand Admiral dress whites.

I say: "So what?"

The appearance is still solid; discrepancies can be explained by, for example, Thrawn undergoing an extended recovery period from some unspecified injury he sustained when the purrgils warped him and Ezra through hyperspace into another galaxy. If you recall, Thrawn was actually in quite the predicament when that happened:

It might well even be that he hasn't been able to maintain a strong and healthy body in the way he used to, for example. Maybe he had to go through painstaking self-directed physical therapy to even get as far as he has.

More importantly, his performance is absolutely on-point. He has the same presence he did in Rebels, minus the exaggerated CGI-cartoon facial expressions that everyone had in that show. He moves, acts, and speaks in a way that I would absolutely imagine of him in the Thrawn Trilogy novels. And he hasn't really even had time to build tactical momentum yet. It's everything I could have wanted from a Thrawn portrayal.

So yeah, I say "So what?" So what if he's a bit "fat." He's Thrawn. The king has returned to Dark Side Minas Tirith, and it is glorious.

Sidebar: Ezra Bridger's live action return was also glorious, but I don't need to tell y'all that, do I?

#star wars #ahsoka series #ahsoka show #ahsoka spoilers #thoughts #blog #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #ezra bridger #spoilers

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nackrosor · 1 year

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~Slutty Feline Jester~

Eddie Munson x plus-size!reader

warnings: body dysmorphia, body image issues, slight panic attack, there's some fat-shaming talk but other than that this is pretty much fluff-hurt/comfort synopsys: your boyfriend had his hands on you, grabbing your tummy and playing with your jiggly forearms, like he's used to doing and you were used to it, too. You even liked it. A disgusted look from one stranger walking by your table is all it took that day to make your confident facade slip away and reveal how insecure about your body you actually are. word count: 4,5k.

[a/n: a HUGE thank you to @noodleboyluke for helping me proof-reading and editing this story. I really hope you guys like it!

ps: apparently there's a guy from the Hellfire Club who has no name so I just called him Frank lol enjoy!!!]

You know you're different from most of the girls at your school. Your difference lies in the way you look. You're not as slim as them; you're overweight. It's as clear as day! Each part of your body is covered with excessive fat. You see it, everyday, whenever you look at yourself in the mirror or inadvertently catch a glimpse of your reflection on some surface. And yet, you're not fazed by it; you're sure that's what the others think when they see you acting like you're not 80 pounds heavier than them, at least. But why would you act differently? Why should you? Your weight doesn't prevent you from living your life as you should, as everybody else does. You've been called brave for that, you don't remember by who, you're not even sure they meant it as a compliment but, if respecting your body means being brave then you're the bravest person on the whole fucking Earth. Hell, you're even sure that it was your so-called 'bravery' that attracted Eddie to you. You've been together for almost a year now and he's been worshiping every inch of you for the whole time. His love does help you, you recognise it but you haven't really changed from the brave fat girl that caught his eye in the first place.

So it's true, you're not fazed by your weight, your size doesn't negatively affect your life... most of the time. Yes, because even brave people like you have their cowardly moments, sometimes. They're not as frequent but when they hit you, they hit you hard.

You woke up like any other day. You bravely got up, prepared yourself for school, wore one of your usual outfits that highlighted your curves and that your boyfriend loved so much. You bravely walked to school and across the halls with your head held high as you reached your classes. At the sound of the bell signaling lunchtime, you bravely entered the cafeteria and jogged towards Eddie, who was waiting for you by the Hellfire Club's table, with open arms ready to engulf you in a crushing hug. You bravely ate your food, no better yet, you savored it and enjoyed it because why shouldn't you? You were as hungry as everybody else.

Everything was going fine, by routine, you would say. You were happily having your meal and chatting with your friends, as usual. Eddie even had his hands on you, grabbing your tummy or playing with your jiggly forearms, like he's used to doing and you were used to it, too. You even liked it.

You weren't at all prepared for the huge bucket of coward-ice hitting you fair and square in the face. All it took was a disgusted look from one stranger walking by your table. Only one. You would have normally brushed it off with a mocking scoff or by simply ignoring it any other day but something at that moment prevented you from doing either of it.

It only took that one single look to tear off the blinders that you auto-imposed on yourself for protection and all of a sudden you could see clearly. The hard truth of it was terrifying. The way everyone was looking at you, even your own friends or the kids, the way their gazes would drop on where Eddie's hands were placed on your body and laugh or frown as he unconsciously kept touching you. It was overwhelming. Suddenly, you could feel the clothes clinging on every roll of your stomach, arms bulging out the stiff sleeves of your tee, thighs over-stretching the constricting fabric of your jeans. The repulsion your body instilled in others, you could feel it too, ten thousands stronger.

All it took for Eddie to notice something was off, on the other hand, was the way you scooted away from him, his hands clasping air all of a sudden. When he tried to pull you closer you swatted his hands away without even glancing at him. You could feel his confused stare on you and it made the gnawing feeling in your stomach even worse.

"Baby?"

He called you softly, leaning toward you, worry and hurt clearly marking his tone.

You couldn't answer even if you wanted to; your breathing was ragged, you were gasping for air. All you wanted to do was run away as far as possible but by rushing out of the cafeteria you would definitely make a scene and just the thought of drawing everyone's attention on you caused your stomach to drop.

You tried to keep your panicky feelings under control as best as you could, not wanting to draw any suspicion from your friends. Well, from anyone else; Eddie was the only one who had noticed your discomfort, by that point. He was still looking at you, his face growing graver by the second.

You could see his hands twitch in his lap, his leg shaking nervously. You knew him too well; he was worried about you and the fact that he had no idea of what had made you react like that all of a sudden, was gnawing at him.

You kept your eyes lowered to avoid meeting anyone's gazes as you scooted back closer to Eddie.

If running away was not an option, then you would need to, at least, cover yourself up to ease your panic while you waited for lunchtime to be over.

Eddie immediately leaned forward, hands moving toward you, by instinct, but the way you flinched made them instantly retract.

You took a long shaky breath, eyes shyly raising to meet his. You could clearly see on his face the thousands of questions that bothered his mind but he dared not to ask. His doe-eyes roamed frantically over your face as he waited for you to speak first.

"Can you give me your jacket?"

He only stalled for a moment as he registered your request. A second later he was holding the denim vest in one hand and the leather jacket in the other. He held out the latter to you, a frown making its way upon his face.

"Are you cold?" he tentatively asked before he leaned further toward you, his voice turning into a whisper, "...or is it that time of the month already?"

Oh Eddie, bless you - you said to yourself as a soft sigh escaped you. You remembered when, a few months back, your period had completely caught you unprepared, blood staining the back of your pants and Eddie had offered you his jacket for cover without any hesitation and made you wait in the bathroom as he had rushed to your female friends to ask for spare pads. That memory temporarily overshadowed your discomfort and a small smile made its way upon your lips.

"No Eddie, I just feel a little bit cold…", you whispered, one arm protectively encircling your side as you raised the other to take the jacket from him. "...and your rings made me shiver all over'', you added, hoping to make your lie more believable.

He visibly relaxed at your words, smiling apologetically at you but he still hesitated to go back to his usual goofy self. He didn't hesitate, however, to anticipate you by settling his jacket on your shoulders himself. He even bent forward to place a soft kiss on your head, palms squeezing gently your forearms.

You tensed a little in response to his touch, your eyes fluttering close.

"Uhm… Are you OK?"

Your odd display must have interrupted their passionate discussion on board games because the whole table had their eyes on you at that point.

The question had come from Dustin and you mustered a smile as you nodded. "Yeah, feeling a bit chilly, that's all."

"Chilly? I'm boiling over here!" Mike stated, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt to blow himself some air as most of the table nodded in agreement.

"You must have caught a cold!" Lucas piped in, a frown spreading on his face as he warily glanced your way. "I can't catch it too, I have a game in a week!"

You heard Eddie sigh deeply behind you and you looked up to see him brush his hand over his face. Your gazes met and he wryly rolled his eyes as he slid back onto his seat at the head of the table.

You couldn't suppress the knowing smile that spread over your lips.

"You need a larger jacket than that if you want to get warmer, though…"

Mike's voice drew everyone's attention once again, especially yours. Your smile faltered and your stomach dropped.

"That's way too small for you!", he added earnestly, unaware of how his words stung, "Big Frank, you should give her yours!"

The startled look that popped up on Frank's face as his eyes darted from the kid's face to yours; and the way he silently started peeling off one of his jacket sleeves as he blinked at you, made you feel bad for him, too.

You mustered a smile and lightly shook your head at him. He nodded at your mouthed "don't worry" and adjusted his jacket back.

You could feel tears starting to well in your eyes but you fought them back as best as you could. There was no way you'd burst out crying in front of your friends, especially not at Mike's words. You knew he didn't mean to hurt you, he was a cool kid after all, just like Dustin and Lucas were and they had never, never made fun of you. He had only stated a fact; Eddie's jacket was small for you. You knew it already so why was it affecting you so much?

You tried to make yourself as small as possible as you tugged at your boyfriend's jacket and adjusted it on you. You expected too much of it, being at least three sizes smaller than what you'd normally wear.

As much as you tried to disappear, you could feel the apprehensive looks your friends would give you and share between them. They were probably wondering why you weren't brushing off Mike's words with a joke or one of your sarcastic comebacks, as you would usually do. You were wondering about it yourself.

The atmosphere of the table had indeed drastically changed. Mike's serious expression had turned into a confused frown after one by one all the other boys had casted sideways glances his way.

"What is it? Why are y'all looking at me like that?"

Dustin hushed his friend with a not so subtle nudge of his elbow and forced a smile to his face as he addressed the whole table in an attempt to ease the tension.

"Sooo… movie night at my house tonight?" His eyes eagerly darted from one face to the other, lingering on yours for a longer moment before passing over to Eddie's.

Eddie had strangely kept silent the whole time, which was unusual for him, to say the least. When you tentatively looked his way, taking advantage of the late reaction Dustin's offer had stirred in the others, you instantly met his gaze.

Had he been staring at you the whole time? There was a deep frown on his face which immediately turned into a broken look as soon as he noticed your watery eyes.

His mouth opened to say something, what you don't know. The harsh sound of the bell brought a deafening chaos with it as all the students raised their voices to conclude their conversations or to express their reluctance to leave.

You did not stall. As soon as you heard the bell, you bolted out of your seat and sprinted toward the exit. In your rush, even over the loud chattering made by the other students, you carefully tried to avoid bumping into in your escape, you could clearly hear Eddie's booming voice as he hissed, "I'll murder you, Wheeler!" And the poor kid cried out, "What did I dooo???"

You didn't turn back. You made a beeline for the bathroom, planning to lock yourself in and wait until those stupid tears would leave you alone. You had made it to the end of the hall, hand reaching forward for the handle of the bathroom door when a strong arm enveloped your waist and pulled you back, spinning you around.

Your startled look met Eddie's serious face.

“You’re not going to shut me out”, he asserted in a stern but hushed tone, his hold tightening around your middle. His voice and demeanor, however, quickly turned softer as his hand raised to gently cup your cheek, a plea in his eyes, “please, don’t shut me out, baby.”

Despite your efforts, tears started rolling down your face way before you had reached the hall and you only then realized it as Eddie wiped both your cheeks with care.

The lump growing in your throat prevented you from uttering even a single word; you only nodded compliantly in response before you leaned forward and hid your face in his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, pulling your body flush against his.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. You’re gonna be ok.”

He whispered those words soothingly in your ear and then pressed a soft kiss on your temple.

“Do you want to leave?”

The way you sniffled and tugged harder at the fabric of his tee was enough for him to make up his mind. After securing a protective arm around your shoulders, he firmly led you toward the exit, passing by the last few students who were scrambling the opposite way headed toward their classes.

You let him guide you out of the school and to the parking lot where his van was. Tears were copiously lining your cheeks and you kept your head lowered as Eddie opened the door for you and helped you up. Only when you found yourself safely set on the familiar worn out seat, momentarily alone while Eddie made his way to the driver's side, did you let out a shuddering breath in an attempt to regain some control over yourself.

You hated crying in front of others, especially in front of your boyfriend; he had only seen you upset a couple of times before, however never to this magnitude and never when those rare “cowardly”moments came upon you. It was embarrassing for you, especially if you considered how you had overreacted. How could you have let something so stupid affect you so much?

The disgusted looks you had received instantly snaked their way back to your mind, soon followed by the strong feeling of repulsion your body had suddenly caused you. Your hands instinctively moved onto the jacket still wrapped around your shoulders and tugged it down to lie it over your tummy, the particular area of your body that in your seated position was bulging out the most and that day, out of all days, made you tremendously self-conscious.

The sound of the door clicking closed startled you and you turned around to see Eddie crash onto his seat and wrap his hands around the steering wheel, giving it a good squeeze out of habit before setting his gaze on you. He instantly noticed the way his jacket was now laid over your torso and thighs in a sloppy attempt to cover yourself and his brows furrowed out of hurt or confusion, you couldn't tell.

He averted his gaze and you did the same. You knew one hell of an uncomfortable conversation awaited you and you wished with all your might it would end up being short and easy. How? You didn't care. You only wanted it to be quick and as painless as possible.

"Listen Eddie, I'm-"

"I'm sorry, baby-"

You had spoken at the same time and immediately turned to look at each other.

Confusion made its way upon your features as you registered what he had said.

"You're sorry? What for?”, you blinked at him, shaking your head, “you don't have to apologize! You did nothing wrong!"

The very last thing you wanted was for him to feel guilty or responsible in some way for what had happened.

He sighed and lowered his head, gaze fixed on his lap where his hands fidgeted nervously.

"I should have said something."

He looked and sounded so disconsolate that you almost started crying again. You really wanted to reassure him but he started talking again before you could find the words.

“At first I wasn’t sure what had made you react like that all of a sudden and when you told me you were feeling cold I thought it was strange but I believed you. When I saw you flinch at that stupid kid’s words though I knew you had told me a lie… but I couldn't really understand what had happened! You never let that kind of comments reach you! So I was confused and I was afraid that by giving Mike's words more weight than they deserved I would only make things worse for you. I don't know…” Eddie shook his head with a sigh, eyes awkwardly darting around before settling on your face.

“When I saw you crying I knew I had fucked up, though."

“No…”, you lamented out of protest, reaching forward for his hands, taking them in yours, “no Eddie, don’t say that. I overreacted, that’s all. It was stupid of me to make such a scene… and make you worry for nothing! I’m sorry. Really. I also ruined the mood at the table! I’ll have to apologize to the others-”

He tugged at your hands, immediately drawing your attention and making you stop rambling. It was so evident that you were trying to belittle what had happened and what you had felt. You were trying so hard to convince him that it was nothing. In an attempt to reassure him but, what you were really doing, was trying to convince yourself first and foremost.

“It can’t be nothing if it makes you cry.”

You searched his eyes for a moment, gaze roaming over his earnest features. Tears started to well in your eyes once again and you instantly turned around and slammed your back to the seat with a groan.

"You must find it ridiculous, I’m sure!”, you blurted out in a mocking tone. You felt angry. You weren’t angry at him but at yourself. At the way you had handled the whole situation. Angry at the way you had allowed some stupid strangers to make you hate your body. “Where's the y/n you've learned to know and like? The brave girl that doesn't give a shit how fat she is? You’re wondering that, aren’t you?"

You pressed yourself further against the door as soon as you felt his hand tentatively grab your shoulder.

"I just-”, you groaned again, brushing the back of your hand against your damp eyelids, “-I just don't want you to think any less of me."

"Sweetheart… I don’t and I would never.”

Eddie reclaimed your attention by tugging at your arm and making you turn toward him, not without some resistance from your part though. He made sure you were looking at him before he started speaking again.

“Sure, I love that side of you… Your confidence is inspiring-"

You interrupted him with a scoff. "I'm inspiring because I'm fat and I don't act like it?"

"You're inspiring…", he stressed, a scolding nuance in both his tone and look, "...because you don't let those stupid people drag you down! You brush their comments and stares off like they're nothing, 'cause they are nothing! You never give those assholes the time of the day. You also don’t take yourself too seriously and make those self-deprecating jokes of yours…". He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I love that about you. But you can’t always be as tough as you want to be.”

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest.

He was making sense. You were so used to hiding yourself behind that confident facade you created that you allowed it to make you blind to the truth of things. Convincing yourself that you had no issues whatsoever with how you looked didn't make them disappear into nothing, as much as you wanted them to. Inevitably, from time to time, one of those stares, comments, or sneers would slip through your facade and hurt you real bad. You were insecure; no amount of jokes or eyerolls would make that part of you go away.

"Besides…", he muttered, drawing your attention back to the moment, "...those people are wrong in the head, if you ask me."

"And why is that?"

He looked pleased by your question, a cheeky smile spreading over his lips.

"’Cause you're the most perfect girl in Hawkins, baby! And I bet in the whole world, too."

You rolled your eyes at him but you couldn't suppress the smile that made its way upon your face.

"Oh, shut up Eddie! That's bullshit."

"The hell it is!" he protested, eyes opening wide, "baby, you're so smart. Annoyingly smart! So smart that I look like I have brain damage when I’m with you… but I don't care. I like it, honestly. As long as I'm with you, I'll eventually rub some of that smartness off of you, right?"

"So… you're with me because I can help you with your homework."

He grinned at you as he sneaked a finger under your still crossed arms to poke your side, making you flinch and break your defensive stance.

"That's only one of the billions of perks of being your boyfriend, you silly girl! Ask me what the others are!"

You let out a deep sigh but you secretly enjoyed the funny turn the conversation had taken. At least Eddie was his goofy self again and that had made you keep your guard down as well.

"And what would the others be?"

"I'm glad you asked!" he exclaimed with a wink and dramatically swirled his forefinger in your direction. "Your beautiful smile… the light of my days! Makes the sun shine even in the darkest times!"

"Oh, no…", you rub a hand over your face, "forget I asked, please."

He ignored your plea and charged ahead.

"Those sexy eyes of yours, baby… they pierce right through my poor weak heart each time you lay 'em on me!"

He was using his deep and dramatic dungeon master's voice therefore making his cheesy lines even more embarrassing for you to hear.

You kept your hand at the level of your eyes to hide from him but he grabbed your wrist and pulled on it to free the subject of his reveries.

As soon as your eyes met his, he let out a strangled moan and moved your palm on his chest.

"Feel what you do to me?"

The funny thing was that you actually couldn't feel anything and that made you bite your lip as you barely held back a chuckle.

"There's no heartbeat, Eddie…"

He silently stared at you for a moment, then lowered his eyes on his chest where your hand was placed before looking back at you.

"Oh! I knew you would kill me one day!"

At that point you couldn't hold back any longer and bursted out laughing.

"You're such a clown!"

Eddie was struggling to hold back his own laughter but managed somehow not to break his acting.

"Wait, I haven't finished!

"Please don't-"

"No no, I saved the best for last! I must mention that soft squishy body of yours!"

Before you could truly register what he had said, his hands were on you, grabbing, squeezing, poking, tickling every inch of flesh he could find. His jacket inevitably fell from your thighs as you flinched and jumped, half-laughing and half-protesting for him to stop.

When he decided you had enough, he retreated slightly, a grin plastered on his face and his hands firmly set on your sides as he waited for you to regain your breathing.

"You have no idea of the struggle I have to fight to not nut in my pants every time I'm allowed to get my hands on you."

You shook your head and struggled to hide a smirk.

"You're a clown and a pervert on top of it. What a catch, uh?"

"Excuse you! I prefer 'slutty jester'."

You snorted at the over the top insulted look he gave you.

"Your slutty jester, my queen." He whispered in his sultry voice, "mmm yes, your humble servant." He bit his lips, hands pressing harder on your soft sides as he moved closer.

"What are you-"

He leaned forward with his whole body, hands moving on the seat to help himself up as he snuck toward you, squirming past the center console until his upper body laid in your lap. He looked so uncomfortable in that position. You were about to protest and push him back up but he made a face and hushed you before you could open your mouth. “Nope! You won’t take my Nirvana away from me!” and taking advantage of your temporary stupor he pulled up the hem of your tee and sank his face in your tummy with a satisfied moan.

"Eddie!"

His hot breath warmed your skin and you thought you heard him say, "my favorite pillow" in between weird cooing sounds before he wrapped his arm around your hips and pulled you closer.

It wasn't unusual for Eddie to pull something like that from time to time and although at first it made your body tense, you soon felt your muscles relax, hands snaking in his hair to brush it gently.

"I didn't know you were a cat."

"Mmm", he moaned again as he pulled back a little to brush his forehead against your skin, "I wish I was so I could sit in your lap and never ever move again."

He looked up at you, a sincere love drunk look hovering on his face.

"I adore you baby."

Your heart skipped a beat. A smile instantly spread over your lips, you could even feel warmth rising in your cheeks. You moved your fingers onto his forehead to brush a strand of hair away from his eyes.

"So much." he added and you bit your lip. Your hand moved lower to caress his cheek and you bent forward to press your lips on his forehead. Eddie grabbed the back of your neck and pulled himself up enough to meet you in a tender but passionate kiss.

"I adore you too, my slutty feline jester." You whispered upon his lips before meeting him again in a searing kiss, letting his love wash over you.

You let the fondness and care of his touches temporarily numb those intrusive thoughts perennially present in the back of your mind, occasionally coming up front to put you down and make you think less of yourself. You let his words sink in and counter your insecurity. Knowing that he loves you no matter what, and that he's always ready to remind you of that, wraps your heart and provides you with a safe-haven you can retreat to whenever you feel the world or even your own mind turning a bit too cruel toward you.

Eddie's right; you're smart, beautiful, strong and your squishy body is just perfect the way it is, no matter what the others see, think or say. Why would you care about others when you have such a perfect loving boyfriend, anyway?