Tuna Tober Prompt Challenge 2024 - Blog Posts

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Tears + "I'd be lost without you." + Breast Worship🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

dreams unwind, love's a state of mind

a/n: i am posting the prompts i'm doing for challenges a bit late cause i haven't been here. but this is my first ever days of future past logan fic and i am nervous! i originally planned to do it in the 70s but then an even angstier idea hit me. and honestly i'm kind of in love with how it turned out. this isn't as much smut as i intended, but who cares. enjoy!

tuna-tober 2024: day eleven - tears + "i'd be lost without you." + breast worship

summary: they told him to change the future, to right the wrongs that the world caused. but he didn't do it for them. he did it for the chance to see his lover one more time. even if he shared a different history than them.

word count: 2.1k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI 18+ ONLY!! angst, fluff, reuniting, tears, grief, logan has ptsd, mention of death, love, breast worship, body worship, biting, dry humping, they almost get it on in an empty classroom.

He never felt his heart beat this fast. A rapid thud, thud, thud against his ribs as he took long strides through the halls. His eyes scanned each corner and passing student for the sight of someone familiar. Logan didn't have any worries that you would be unrecognizable. He didn't worry that you were different.

His soul would know you from miles away—the connection that tied you to him stronger than his will to survive.

No matter what Charles told him. He didn't go back for him or Jean or Storm. He didn't fight to change history just to get a chance to save his family. That remained only part of the reason. Logan survived—he clawed his way through the past—for one sole purpose. He would finally get a second chance; he'd get to see you smile again, hear you laugh, feel your lips against his.

Going through hell became worth it if it meant getting the opportunity to have you in his arms.

Students pushed past him on their way to lunch. Several greeted him with a term he would have to grow accustomed to—professor—others tossing him a warm hello before they scurried by. He seemed to have a solidified life here. The promise of peace in a world that once ripped him in two. He wasn't just the Wolverine in these hallowed halls.

He was Logan Howlett too.

"Baby!" he called, running down the empty hallway towards the set of classrooms. "Princess are you here?"

Charles directed him in his mind, pushing images of moments he couldn't recall to the front of his mind. Smiles hidden in secret during meetings packed in a too small office. Touches that you hoped went unnoticed through training sessions and meals in the dining room. Jokes about the two professors who snuck into each other's rooms at night for months on end, long before they finally decided to move in together.

Time he'd never get back. Memories that never belonged to him in the first place.

Would you like this version of him? The Logan that had seen far worse, who endured a war, who held your dying body in his arms as a battle went on behind him. Would you love the scars that ran just a bit deeper? The pain that lingered for far longer than you deserved.

Fear gripped his heart at the thought of anything other than your love. He wouldn't survive a life spent without you. He went through that once and every day felt as if his soul was being torn from his body. Each gruesome wake up to move places and fight for mutants who may never make it out alive, became lifeless—colorless—because you weren't there.

"C'mon baby," he muttered, turning in a circle, his chest heaving with gasped breaths. The air seemed to be stripped clean of your scent, no mark of your existence filled the mansion as it once did.

He felt his body seize—the familiar numbing ache trickling down through his body.

No reason to live resided in his heart if you weren't here to spend it with him.

"Princess!" he practically shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Fuck. You gotta be here. You gotta–"

"Logan?"

The soft lilt of your voice forming his name on your lips punched him in the chest, effectively stealing whatever breath he clung to. He whirled around, eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears, as you popped out of the classroom door behind him. He'd never seen such beauty until today. A wash of relief flooded his body, the weight on his shoulders landing on the floor with a heavy thud.

He drank in the sight of you with a smile. The curve of your hips in a too tight black and white pinstripe pencil skirt, the way your white button down rolled at the sleeves hugged your breasts—the black lace bra faintly evident against the sunlight that streamed through the windows. He devoured you with his gaze alone. Yet the hunger still persisted. It ate at his heart, begged him to move, to gather you in his arms.

But for the life of him...he was unable to gain control of his limbs.

They were stuck. Frozen against time as you moved a bit closer, your black heels clicking on the hardwood floors.

You looked exactly the same. Though some differences lay in the style of your hair, the red lips painted deep and enticing, the glasses tucked into the front of your shirt, Logan felt as if you were ripped right from his memories.

His girl. His princess.

"Baby," he murmured, doing what he could to catch his breath.

Your eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed as you regarded him with a flash of concern. "Is everything okay? Charles let me know you were looking for me."

The mention of the man's name forced him to finally move. What little of Charles still lingered in the back of his mind quickly retreated—the mission to find you now complete. This was his way of giving the both of you some privacy. A chance to reconcile with the woman he thought he'd never see again. Logan thanked him silently, promising to speak after all was said and done—after he got a chance to hold you for the first time in nearly a decade.

"You're here," he sighed, his feet moving faster than either of you expected.

"Of course I'm here. I had a class to teach. Quantum mechanics, well actually more a study of molecular physics today. I thought I let you know at breakfast–" His hands gripped your waist roughly, pushing you back into your empty classroom with a growl. "Logan!"

His foot shut the door, hand blindly fumbling for the lock, as he dragged you against his body with his other arm. An explanation would be given later in the dark confines of your shared bedroom. He'd explain it all to you, every gruesome and grave detail. All the questions he knew swirled inside your head—ever the curious woman he fell hopelessly in love with.

But right now he'd have you on the nearest desk (preferably yours). In this fleeting moment he would reclaim what was so brutally taken from him; the love he felt now pouring out from every part of his body. Beating in tune with his erratic heart.

"What are you doing?" you gasped, hands pressed against his chest to steady yourself. "Is everything okay? Are you hurt?"

His stomach fluttered, the sensation of being on cloud nine now a reality the longer he looked at your pretty form. Hands quickly roamed his shoulders and arms as you checked for any injuries that might appear at a moment's notice. Nevermind that he healed quicker than any other mutant in this school. Nevermind that he stared at you with an expression that could only be described as awestruck.

You still did what you felt was necessary to ease the growing worry in the back of your mind.

"'M more than okay baby." The low rasp of his voice forced your gaze up to his within seconds. A soft oh echoing in the empty room.

No explanation was needed when he looked at you with pupils that devoured the hazel of his iris. You knew what he wanted—could feel the desperation in his tight grip. The thickening sweetness of your scent curled around his senses like a drug, filling his body with a need that permeated the air.

"I missed you," he breathed. "So much."

Logan wished there was a way to convey how much anguish his heart went through in the years after your death. The nights spent yearning for your touch. The memory of you passing onto a plane he couldn't follow burned onto the back of his eyelids. He couldn't escape what happened.

Death was an easy option for him. A choice he would have made in the blink of an eye. But the laws of his own being were unable to be severed. He'd never be able to join you—forever stuck in a world without your light.

He longed to tell you all of it, but feared he might fuck it up.

"You saw me a few hours ago," you grinned.

"God I wish that were true."

Your mouth parted, eyes overflowing with worry, and Logan could no longer fathom a moment without your kiss. Dipping down swiftly he slotted his lips against yours with a groan. His hands gripping any plush part of your body he could reach. Unable to stick to one spot because there was so much of you he missed. The feel of your ass in his hands as he gripped you close, how you blissfully sighed into his mouth, relenting to his hold.

Kissing you felt as if he gained back all the years he missed out on. The time he thought was unsalvageable.

The feel of your tongue pressing against his drove him over to the edge of madness. A feral moan coated in a gravel hoarseness ripped from his throat, his fingers squeezing your body to drag you even closer. He sucked on your bottom lip, licked into your mouth with whimpered broken sounds, and refused to stop even when you pulled back for air.

"W-We're in a classroom Logan," you gasped, high-pitched and layered in a neediness that matched his own.

"I don't fuckin' care."

"I don't want to get caught–"

Sucking your tongue into his mouth with a grunt, he began to walk until the back of your thighs hit the grand desk you sat at. The plaque of your name now lay with a pile of papers that landed on the floor. He groped your breasts, tugging the buttons until they popped free—scattering across the room with soft pings.

"My shirt!"

He grinned. "I'll help ya find them later, princess."

"You're not fucking me here. We have a room for a reason." The words were accompanied by a moan, your head tipping back to give him the expanse of your neck.

Space he happily began to sink his teeth into. He sucked at your skin as he pulled at your bra, his thumbs running across peaked nipples that practically begged for his attention. An act he was more than happy to partake in. With a grunt, he sucked one into his mouth, spit smearing into your soft skin with the promise of making a mess wherever he could.

"F-Fuck," you panted, fingers ripping at his hair as your hips canted up into his. "What's gotten into you baby?"

He answered with a deep grind of his hips into yours, the sticky precum practically drowning his cock in the confines of his jeans. Self control wasn't his strongest ability at this very moment. Not when he could feel the heat of your cunt call his name. He'd be surprised if he lasted long enough to sink into you—to finally indulge in the warmth of your body.

Teeth dug into the side of your breast, his hands tugging your cunt along his jeans as tears pricked his eyes. Losing you wasn't the worst part of all of this. Not being able to remember the last time he felt you this way—the final day of joy in your relationship before it happened—would forever haunt him. A memory he should have solidified in the back of his mind slipped free before his very eyes.

How did you smile at him? Was it a stolen moment by firelight? Were you smiling just to appease his growing anxiety about losing you? Or did you feel a flicker of joy?

For the life of him...he couldn't bring that moment to mind.

"Logan?" Your hands tugged his head back, thumbs wiping away tears he didn't know started to fall. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

He grinned, broken and marred and bleeding all the love his weary body could muster. "I'd be lost with you."

You paused, disbelief shrouding your features. "What are you talking about baby? Did something happen?"

The time to reveal it all would be now, but how could he move past this? Your breasts were free and coated in his spit, your eyes were darkened with wanton lust. To him you would never look more beautiful. Entirely disheveled, yet still willing to help him by any means necessary.

You would always be—and forever remain—the other half to his scarred soul.

"I'll tell you later," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your wrist. "I'll tell you everything."

"But–"

He shook his head. "Lemme have this. Okay? I need this."

A discerning smile crossed your lips as he leaned in for another kiss, his body pressing you down until your back hit the desk. This certainly wasn't how he envisioned your reunion happening. A quickie in the confines of an empty classroom that you'd eventually teach in a few hours later. But Logan couldn't fathom waiting. He'd spent years pining after a soul that might never walk the same ground as him.

A brief moment of bliss. A short forever in the allotted time.

This was something he could steal for himself.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Breast Worship 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

sweater weather

pairing: michael kinsella x fem! reader

word count: 1.3K

tuna-tober prompt: breast worship

summary: you’re michael’s first stop after he’s released from prison.

warnings: mdni 18+! swearing, reader has pierced nipples, breast worship, i have no idea how to write irish dialects, probably poorly edited, idk what else. 🙃

tagging: @yarrystyleeza

a/n: ngl, i struggled writing this one. just wanted to post it to maintain fidelity to the prompt posting schedule. thanks for reading?

The relationship you had with Michael Kinsella was unconventional. You’d been childhood best friends until he drifted towards crime. He always called you an angel because of your ability to always do the right thing. He admired you and wished he could have been more like you and led a simple, quiet life. 

When he went away to prison you would write him letters and visit when you could, you even started a monthly book club together. The time you spent in the visitation room at Mountjoy Prison was sacred to you. The quiet laughter, and smiles yielded to tender hand holding and tight hugs goodbye. You would forgo most things in your life for just one hour with Michael. You developed a deeper relationship through these one on one visits. In your delusional mind, they were like dates to you. Each visit left you craving more of him, more of his touch. Your friends and family all thought it odd that you hadn’t brought a guy around in this span of eight years. You knew it was crazy but you were half in love with Michael Kinsella and wouldn’t entertain the subject of other suitors. 

After a week spent running on empty you sought solace in your home. You had ordered your favorite takeout, read a book and drank some tea while some quiet music played in the background. The aroma of bergamot, mahogany, and musk enveloping your cozy sitting room. As you finally felt your tension melting away, you were ready for sleep. You just finished brushing your teeth you heard a sudden knock on your door.

You open the door without taking a peek and you’re stunned silent as you see Michael standing in your doorway. You heart skipped a beat and your pulse quickened at the sight. 

“Michael,” you say breathlessly. Completely in shock he’s standing before you, and you feel really underdressed for this unexpected visit. He might be fresh from prison, but he looks good in his sweater and jeans. You’re wearing pajama shorts and a tight white t-shirt, not exactly dressed for company. Nevermind the cool air making its way inside, making your permanently hard, pierced nipples, that much more pronounced. 

“Hey pet,” Michael says with a smile looking you up and down. When his eyes land on your hardened nipples he quickly refocuses his gaze back to your face as his cheeks turn pink.

“Didn’t realize ya got out. Come in,” you stand aside offering him permission to enter your home. 

He blinks, smiles, and crosses the threshold, “Just got out a bit ago… Nice place ya got here,” he says as he admires your house. 

“Thanks, I was just gettin’ ready for bed…” you say.

Michael bites his lip and you catch him staring. 

“What’s a girl like ya doin home alone on a Friday night?” Michael asks as his gaze roams your body. Despite his feelings for you, he always encouraged you to not get attached or wait for him. Which you completely ignored, much to his delight.

“Needed a night in to myself,” you say with a small yawn. 

“I just wanted to see ya, and thank ya, yer visits kept me sane while I was locked up. I appreciate what ya did for me while I was in there,” he knows he’s rambling but he’s turning into a blushing, stuttering mess. The sight of you in your tight pajamas with those nipple piercings is driving him mad. He’s half hard already thinking about what they look like and the pretty sounds you’d make with them in his mouth. 

His thoughts devolve quickly into a lustful frenzy, it’s been so long since he’s had a woman. He definitely thought of you during his lonely nights in his cell. 

“Michael, my eyes are up here,” you tease him as you notice his eyes on your chest. 

“Sorry love, I just can’t stop starin’. I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman, but ya look too damn good and I’ve been wantin’ ya for so long,” he sighs as your beautiful figure wears him down. 

“Oh… ya like what ya see, hmm?” You ask playfully. 

“I do. Yeah. When did ya do tha’?” 

“Probably four years ago. Did it on my birthday. Always wanted to.” 

“Never would have figured ya’d be the kinda girl to do something so naughty,” Michael is openly gawking at your chest. 

“Michael. A lot has changed since high school,” you shrug your shoulders with a small laugh.

“I can tell, I like it,” he says as his pupils are blown wide and his face is flushed with desire. 

“Ya want to see them?” You ask cheekily. 

“Can I? Ya’d let me?” He’s biting his lip and looks hopeful like a little boy about to play with his favorite toy. 

You life your shirt up, taking it off in one fluid movement, walking up to him with a smile as you gently push him down onto your couch. Once he’s seated you unbuckle his belt, and unzip his jeans, pulling them down to his knees. You see the outline of his hard cock through his boxers. 

“Can I touch ‘em?” Michael looks up at you pleading. 

You nod your head and say, “I think we’ve waited long enough, Mikey, ya can do whatever ya want tonight. Full consent. I know how bad we both want this. Only wanna make ya feel good and make up for lost time,” you murmur gently in his ear. 

Witt your consent, Michael’s fingers trace the barbells and the perimeter of your perfect nipples. He’s so focused on how utterly perfect your tits are. His thumbs brush over your nipples and you shudder. 

“They make everythin’ a lot more sensitive,” you say with a small moan. 

“Tha’ right?” Mikey asks as he continues to brush his thumbs over your nipples. “So perfect, pet, just like I knew ya’d be.” 

His hands are massaging your tits as he rolls your nipples with his fingers. It’s so pleasurable, and it’s Michael giving you pleasure, something you’ve dreamed about for the longest time. You find your panties are becoming soaked as you grind down on his muscular thigh. 

Testing the water, Michael licks your nipple which pulls the most gorgeous moan from your mouth. 

“Oh, you like tha’?” He teases. 

“Fuck, yeah, I do,” you groan as you grind on him more. 

Your words and noises push him to do more, his little licks turning into full blown sucking on your nipple as his other hand continues to play with the other. He alternates the attention paid to each, ensuring equal attention is paid to your gorgeous breasts. 

Grinding down on his thigh is no longer enough to relieve the tension coiling in your belly. Your hand dips into the waistband of your underwear. They’re soaked through and you’re positive he can feel your slick all over his thigh. You start to rub your clit and this sends Michael over the edge. He’s sucking your tit harder into his mouth, teeth grazing over the barbell, gently tugging to make you lose control. 

“Fuck, Michael, yer mouth feels so good on me. I could come jus’ from this,” you moan as he continues to lavish your breasts with heated attention. 

“Mmm, pet, wanna go to the bedroom to find out what else my mouth can do to ya?” 

You’ve never agreed to anything faster in your life. Before you know it, Michael has you hoisted up, legs wrapped around his waist as he carries you to your bedroom for a night you won’t forget. 

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "You don't need to do that.” "I want to." 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

"You don't need to do that." "I want to."🪻

leo is just the perfect vessel for fluff. I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 774

Warnings: periods, possible endometriosis, cursing, nausea

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You ached all over.

Not just your abdomen, where your willful uterus throbbed with every breath and sent shocks of agony down your spine, but everywhere else. Your breasts were sensitive to the touch, your back was stiffer than a board, and the muscles in your hips gave out a few hours ago.

All you could do was bury yourself in the couch cushions and groan occasionally. Waves of nausea emanated from your stomach, coursing through your body in violent bursts. You couldn't get up and get water because your head hadn't stopped spinning since you woke up.

Periods. Fucking. Suck.

The ice pack you'd grabbed before your symptoms truly set in had long since melted. A puddle of water cradled the ice pack tauntingly where it sat on the rug. You stared at the blue plastic through half-lidded eyes. If looks could kill, the room-temperature ice pack would be nothing but ash.

Jingling keys in the apartment's door drew your ire from the hunk of plastic. You watched the brass knob turn, the hinges catching a bit, as Leo forced his way through the troublesome door. A large plastic bag crinkled where it was gripped in his large hand. Bulging boxes stretched at the thin material.

"Darling?" he called as the door swung shut behind him. One of your loose sweatshirts hung from his broad shoulders. What seemed monstrous on you just barely fit Leopold. The green of the cotton made his bright, hazel eyes gleam in the apartment's ceiling lights.

"In here," you grumbled tiredly. Another throb centered in your abdomen made you wince. You ground your teeth, eyes screwing shut, as you tried to work through the pain.

"Oh, my love. How bad is it?" Leo asked, voice growing closer as he approached what felt like your death bed. Well, death couch. You peered at him through squinted eyes.

"Bad," you answered with a groan. The plastic bag crinkled as Leo set it next to the couch. You just barely caught a glimpse of the pads and tampons he'd bought while he was out.

"How ba- Lord!" he exclaimed. It seemed he'd found the puddle. Your giggle at his misfortune quickly shifted to a strained sigh as the muscles in your back creaked. Leo adjusted where he knelt by your head, "Damned ice. How's your nausea? Any better than before I left?"

You gingerly shook your head, "Nope."

"When was the last time you drank some water?" he asked. A warm palm rested on your oversensitive shoulder. It was soft, strong, the fingers massaging circles into your sore muscles. An involuntary sigh escaped your chapped lips.

"Can't remember. Been a while," you replied, eyes falling closed as Leo smoothed his hand up and down your arm. He always had a way of calming the turmoil inside you. Like a lighthouse guiding a battered ship to shore.

"How about I get you some water, hm? You can rifle through what I've bought while I do that," he suggested with a kind smile. You couldn't help but mirror the expression.

"You didn't need to do all that, hon. I could've ordered it," you said.

Feigned offense washed over Leo's face. His eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched near the bridge, as a forced frown tugged at his mouth, "I'm shocked that you'd even consider using your telly-phone over your perfectly good me!"

The laugh that shook your chest felt revitalizing in a way. Like the first rays of sunshine after a violent storm. It was easy to forget your pains for a moment.

Leo's charade didn't last. His furious expression broke as he laughed with you, saying "Besides, I wanted to. I like caring for you."

Warmth blossomed in your chest. Petals of kindness and utter devotion floated across your lungs with every breath you took. This man. This out-of-time man, the one who'd completely won your heart, was as infatuated with you as you were with him. The thought helped ease the aches slithering up your spine.

"Pilfer the bag, I'll get your water," Leo uttered quietly. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline. You couldn't help the way your pulse involuntarily kicked up at the action. He always had a way of making your heart race.

Having your period was never easy. It fucking sucked. From the agonizing ache rooted in your uterus to the full-body shakes you'd get, that time of the month could be an utter nightmare. But, as you pulled several bars of chocolate out of the plastic bag, the nightmare was starting to look more like a domestic dream. One you never would've expected with Duke Leopold Mountbatten.

Y'ALL I'M IN LOVE WITH A FAKE PERSON

taglist: @just-a-nightdreamer @www-interludeshadow-com @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @amphitrite-5 @yarrystyleeza @lemurianstarship @theestorm

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✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." + Nightmare + Shaking🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 6 - Ghosts

Prompts: 6 - “Shh, I've got you now. I'm here.” + 7 - Nightmare + 8 - Shaking Character: Frank Castle Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Word Count: 547 Warning(s): Dream/flashback involving domestic violence, gendered insults, and implied sexual assault. Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Ghosts

You were hiding under the bed, heart pounding. He was here. You could smell him. You’d never forget that smell. Acrid smoke of menthol cigarettes, sour-sweet of stale beer, and cheap cologne. You could hear him. Stomping around the room, growling out your name. Looking for you. You prayed that he wouldn’t find you.

“I know you’re here, fucking slut . . . . lying whore . . . . You can’t hide from me!”

You fought the whimper that wanted to escape. You recognized that tone. You knew what it meant.

The footsteps stopped. You held your breath, barely daring to breathe. Had he - ? Then you screamed as a hand clamped around your ankle.

You couldn’t stop yourself from trying to kick at the hand on your ankle. Or from struggling against the hands pinning you down. You didn’t know why. It was stupid. Pointless. He was bigger than you. Stronger than you. Fighting just made the beating worse. Or got him excited. So that once you were lying broken on the floor, he’d . . . 

“Hey, hey . . . sweetheart . . . . sweetheart, it’s okay . . .”

Confusion began to penetrate through the panic. He never called you sweetheart. It was always doll. At least when he was pretending to be nice . . . and the voice didn’t sound right. Too deep, too much gravel for him. It sounded more like . . . 

“Sweetheart, it’s me, Frank . . .”

Frank. It was Frank. It was Frank’s hands wrapped around your wrists. Not trying to pin you down, just trying to stop you from hitting him. The grip firm but gentle. It was Frank looking down at you with big worried eyes . . .

Not him. He wasn’t here. He hadn’t found you. You were safe. Frank would protect you.

You collapsed against Frank in sheer relief. Almost didn’t notice him releasing your wrists in favor of wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest. Shaking, you inhaled deeply. Filling your nose with Frank’s scent. Old Spice, leather, gun oil, something smokey but not like cigarettes but something cleaner, like burning pine or apple wood chips . . .

Nothing like him.

“Shh, I've got you now. I'm here,” he murmured into your hair, rubbing your back. “You’re safe, sweetheart.”

You didn’t know how long it took for the tears to stop. You weren’t even sure when the tears had started. But, if Frank was bothered by how long it took for you to get ahold of yourself, he didn’t show it. Just keep rubbing your back and murmuring reassurances.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Why are you apologizin’?”

“Don’t know.” You said. It was just a habit, apologizing. You didn’t know why. It wasn’t like it had ever helped . . . you shuddered, firmly shoving those memories back into their box. And chained it shut.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you said. You wanted those memories to stay in their box where they belonged. You wanted to be able to go to the grocery store without having a panic attack because a stranger looked or sounded or smelled like him. You wanted dreams free of fear and pain.

Frank didn’t argue. You didn’t expect him to. He knew what it was like to have ghosts. To be haunted by things that should have never happened.

What he did do was keep hugging you until you were ready to face the world again.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here."🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Tuna-Tober Day 6 - George Weasley

pairing: Geroge Weasley x fem!reader

prompt: "Shh...I've got you now. I'm here."

word count: 2,051

content: Unforgivable Curse use, blood, choking, bounding to chair

tuna-tober masterlist / main masterlist

dividers by: @firefly-graphics

You were attending your now mandatory seventh year of school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it was going about as well as you expected with everything going on with the war against You-Know-Who. Hogwarts of course wasn’t spared from the infestation of his followers, and with Dumbledore dead, the place had all gone to pot. 

Snape was in charge, and as if that wasn’t bad enough by itself, there were two new professors who were known followers of You-Know-Who… The Carrows. The brother taught what was now just called Dark Arts and the sister taught the required class of Muggle Studies. Instead of the class focusing on Muggle artefacts and how they functioned though, she taught how inferior the Muggles were compared to Wizards and how You-Know-Who would restore the “proper order” of things. You thought it was all total rubbish and you had made it clear to them from day one that you weren’t falling for their propaganda. 

By the end of the first month, you were getting stir crazy with not knowing how things were going on the outside of the castle and knowing that no one knew what was going on inside. The Profit wasn’t publishing anything useful, so you attempted to get an owl out to your long time boyfriend, George Weasley, to ask what he knew. It was a calculated risk, and the reward was not worth it. The Carrows had intercepted your letter before it even left the school grounds and you were subjected to corporal punishment at their hand. 

Needless to say, it was hard getting mail in and out of the school by the usual means, so after some thinking, you had resorted to using the secret passages hidden throughout the school grounds. You knew of these only because George had shown you some of them before he and his twin brother departed the school in grand fashion when Delores Umbridge took over the school. As bad as it was nowadays, sometimes you wished that Umbridge was still in charge. At least with her, seventh year students weren’t instructed to torture first years…

Even with getting owls out through a secret passage that took you to the Hogshead Inn, there was always the potential for mail to be intercepted and read though, so when things started getting rough, you and George had come up with a code system that you would use in your letters. The cipher was sent in multiple pieces over weeks, but once it was established, communication between Hogwarts and the outside world was a go. Because of this, you were the main source of information about the happenings of the school for Potterwatch listeners and freedom fighters throughout the wizarding world. Not that they could do anything about it…

Some weeks, there was nothing but bad news at the school, and your letters simply served as proof of life, and George’s replies did the same. You usually wrote of what the new rules were for the school, how punishment had changed, and just the daily happenings around the castle. One day though, George received a very different letter and the handwriting wasn’t yours. It was asking him to come to the school immediately. 

Hours before…

You were irritably bouncing your leg as you sat in your seat for Dark Arts class. Professor Carrow had once more brought a group of first years to be punished for trivial rubbish. Up until now, you had never been called upon to dole out their punishment, but still, you hated to have to watch the poor young kids suffer at the hands of other students. Some days you had worked with your fellow DA members and got word out that there was trouble in your class. They would cause a distraction outside so you could sneak the young students out to avoid punishment. This of course caused you to get in trouble instead, but you were okay with that. You were more capable of enduring the Carrows. 

Things were different today. The Carrows had been particularly harsh throughout the week, and were getting people in trouble for the littlest of things. Someone’s robe was slightly wrinkled? Detention. They wore their tie slightly off centre? Detention. A student flipped the pages of their textbook too loudly? Detention. Needless to say, you were fed up. After months of enduring their terror, you felt like you were at your breaking point. And it only got worse when you were called up to the front of the room by Professor Carrow. 

“It has been brought to my attention that you’ve never been called up for your practice with the Cruciatus Curse. I think it’s time we change that,” he said, a small smirk on his lips as you stood before him. You refused to look in his eye and instead glared over his shoulder. “I’ve seen your talent with it when we’ve practised on rodents. You’ve got a lot of anger inside of you, child. Now you just need to take it out on these weak children.”

You turned and looked at the tired and terrified faces in front of you. Some you knew had gotten in trouble before and were just wanting to get this over with, but some were brand new faces. Likely subject to detention because of a minor infraction. Their terrified eyes pleaded with you, begging without words for you to not hurt them. It broke your heart. 

“I won’t,” you stated defiantly, still not turning to give Carrow your respect. 

“You will,” he snarled as he pressed the tip of his wand into the side of your neck. His voice suddenly got closer and his breath was hot on your skin as he said, “If you don’t, I will. And I won’t relent until they’ve learned their lesson.”

This statement had you seeing red and your chest began to heave with anger. The grip you had on your wand tightened, and before he could make another move, you snapped around and pointed your wand at him, shouting, “Crucio!” when he was in your sights. 

“Go, now!” shouted Sheamus before standing up with a few other DA members who began clearing the room. Before he left, Sheamus turned back and called out your name for you to follow, but was met with a horrifying sight. 

Once you stopped concentrating on the curse and Carrow recovered from the pain you subjected him to, he was furious. Before you could even turn tail and run out of the classroom, Carrow had bellowed, “Diffindo!” and large gashes ripped through your robes and skin, causing blood to start seeping into your clothes. Your screams pierced the air before Carrow was grabbing you by the throat and shouting, “You think you can turn your wand on me?! You think you can get away with that unscathed?! You’re in for a world of torture, girl!” 

“Sheamus, go!” you managed to choke out when you realised that he was still in the room. 

“No!” Carrow shouted, flicking his wand and causing the heavy classroom door to slam shut. “You, boy, as punishment for aiding the other children, are going to help me deal with this brat! The two of you are close, so with what I have in mind, it’ll be punishment enough. If you don’t, you’ll be subject to the same.” After he finished his statement, he tightened his grip on your throat the slightest bit while waiting for an answer. 

“I won’t!” Sheamus countered. 

“Just…just do it!” you choked out, your voice quiet even to your own ears as you began to get dizzy. 

You didn’t hear your friend say anything, but assumed that he agreed when Carrow’s hold on you released and you crumbled to the ground, gasping for air. The relief was momentary though, because within seconds you were being forced up and into a chair before being bound to it. 

As you slumped forward, you heard Sheamus mumble, “Forgive me…” before your body was wracked with the most excruciating pain you had ever experienced. 

What followed was more wounds being inflicted into your skin and the chair with you in it being blasted into the wall. You lost count of how many times the Cruciatus Curse was cast on you, but even through your scrambled thoughts, you could tell which ones Carrow cast - they were more painful. More evil. 

By the time black was threatening to take over your vision, you finally heard, “I think she’s learned her lesson.” The chair magically sat upright as Carrow snarled, “Next time you know not to disobey me. This is going to be child’s play compared to what you’ll endure if you dare turn your wand on me again. Now get out of my classroom.”

Sheamus waved his wand and your bounds were released, causing you to collapse out of the chair and onto the floor in a heap. You were in and out of it as he practically dragged you in the direction of the Room of Requirement. When the two of you arrived, Sheamus was calling, “Neville! Hannah! I need some help!” 

“What happened?” Hannah asked, her eyes wide as she took in your bloodied form. 

“She refused to cast the Cruciatus Curse on the first-years. Cast it on Carrow instead,” he told her with a shake of his head. A grim look crossed his features and he scowled as he added, “He made me cast it on her too. Five times. I had half a mind to turn my wand on him too…”

“Good thing you didn’t. This is awful…” Hannah whispered as she started helping Sheamus get you to a secluded area to tend to your wounds. Before they got to the area, she turned to Neville and said, “Write to George. He needs to know what’s happened.”

“On it,” Neville agreed before rushing off to get a letter written. 

“Where is she?” George asked urgently as he ducked through the portrait that hid the passage from the Hogshead Inn. 

“They’re still trying to heal her, mate, just give-” Neville said as he stood up from his desk. 

“I need to see her!” George snapped, the terror and fury in his eyes obvious to Neville who nodded and took George to where Hannah and Sheamus were still healing the many gashes Carrow had inflicted on you. 

“We’ve gotten most of it, there shouldn’t be any visible scars,” Hannah said, giving George a small smile as she wrapped a blanket around you. 

She and Sheamus stood, and the latter clasped George’s hand in his before going in for a quick hug with a pat on the back, telling him, “She’s been asking for you. Good to see you, mate.”

George simply nodded before making his way to your side. He settled down into the heap of pillows before pulling you gently into his arms. When he did, you finally let go of the tears you had been holding back since Carrow got his hands on you. “Shh…I’ve got you now. I’m here,” George whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled you closer and nuzzled into your hair, kissing your head gently as he did. 

It took a while, but you finally calmed down enough to whisper, “Thank you…”

“For what?” George asked, placing a kiss on your temple. 

“For coming. You…you didn’t have to. It’s dangerous,” you replied, shifting so you could wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest. 

“For you I’d risk anything,” he told you. Soon enough, your exhaustion took over and you fell asleep in George’s arms. The sleep itself was heavy, but your mind was filled with nightmares that you were sure you wouldn’t escape for years to come. 

From then on, George would make trips to the school to check in on you as well as deliver things the DA and rebelling students needed. The first trip back was to bring a surplus of supplies to make potion for dreamless sleep. After that was prank supplies to boost morale. Then it was defensive products to protect yourselves. Some days it was simply him, and those days you were especially grateful for. George was your safe place and you were his. And in these times of war, that was something you both needed. 

I always think it's interesting to see stories written from the year that the Trio wasn't there, so that's what inspired this lil story for the prompt. I once again am showing off how much I love writing George Weasley's protective side!

likes and comments are always appreciated! xo, brooke <3

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Nightmare🌧️

angst babes!!!

Ship: Worst!Logan Howlett x f!Reader

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 986

Warnings: experimentation, allusions to drowning, needles, nightmares, PTSD struggles, cursing, self-doubt

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

Clear water surrounded him on all sides. Burying him in a freezing, liquid tomb. He was completely submerged. Frigid liquid would be slithering into his lungs if it wasn't for the rebreather firmly lodged between his teeth. Artificial air pumped into his mouth in quick bursts. Opening his eyes resulted in them stinging from the chemicals in the water, so he remained in darkness.

The sounds of the world around him were muffled. Faint discussion filtered through the water like raindrops on a car roof. Snatches of "pulse at 82," "body temperature nominal," "preparing the adamantium now," reached his strained ears. Fists clenched around the metal table beneath him. What was taking so long?

Mechanical whirring buzzed in the water. Like a swarm of angry wasps submerged in a pond. It was hard to tell where the sound was coming from. Waves of harsh droning sped through the water at high velocity. He would have covered his ears if it weren't for the metal restraints firmly holding his wrists to the table.

Dozens of spinning needles stabbed into his skin. Hot poker after hot poker spearing into his flesh and making him cry out into the rebreather. Sparks of absolute agony swirled in the blood leaking from his new wounds. He thrashed against his restraints, desperate to escape from this new torture.

Logan's eyes snapped open as a harsh breath filled his lungs. His pulsed raced in his ears like a galloping horse. Sweat covered his skin in a thin coat. The cotton sheets flew from his body in fistfuls of cloth as he threw them from himself, scrambling to sit at the edge of the bed.

As his bare feet touched the hardwood, chest heaving, he took in his surroundings. Framed pictures of his new life in this universe decorated every available wall and flat surface. Images of parties at Wade and Althea's apartment, Mary Puppins graduating from dog-training, Laura with her new girlfriend. The group of framed pictures on his nightstand were singled out, the photos containing someone he held so dearly the frames were more expensive than the rest.

You.

Stills of you and Logan at a bar getting drinks, you asleep on the couch with Mary Puppins in your lap, you and Wade playing cards when you know he cheats. Your bright smile decorated every frame in a cheerful glow. Always one to make people happy without ever really trying.

A deep, revitalizing breath filled Logan's chest as he scooped up one of the pictures. It was a selfie he had taken a few months ago. You and Logan were on the beach somewhere in California. Teals and greens flowed over your shoulders from the two-piece bathing suit you'd decided to wear that day. Your sunburned arms were wrapped around Logan's shoulders, lips pressed to his cheek as you gave him a laughter-filled kiss. A content smile was stretched across his weathered face.

Logan looked over his bare shoulder to see you. Cuddled under the blankets, mouth slightly parted, deep in sleep. Your hair was lightly tousled from your usual tossing and turning.

How did he ever land himself here? After everything he'd done, or didn't do? How in the fuck did he manage to build this perfect life with you? How did he earn the right to wake up next to you every morning, a sleepy smile playing at your lips as you kissed his forehead, with pure adoration flooding his senses?

The frame glinted in the moonlight as he set it back on his nightstand. Logan's touch lingered on the glass. Wind had blown your hair from the bun you'd secured it in earlier that day. Wisps blew across your closed eyes and had tickled Logan's nose.

"Logan?" came your mumbled whisper. He shifted on the bed until he was facing you. Tired eyes blinked up at him from your place amongst the sheets. Your eyebrows were furrowed, confusion etching into your sleep-addled features.

"Sorry, doll. Nightmare," he cooed quietly. He smoothed his palm along your cheek. Your skin was warm, plush, comfortable. Like holding a peach on a summer's day.

You nuzzled deeper into his hand. A small smile pulled at your lips, "It's okay. Wanna talk about it?"

The question hung heavily around his head. Smoke curled in his mind from where his nightmares originated. Clouded, a monstrous fog that Logan could never quite focus on. It lingered in his mind like storm clouds over a choppy sea. He'd tried to direct his ship toward the tempest, to access his memories, but he'd always sink beneath the waves before he'd reach it.

Doomed to repeat his past every night and to not remember a single thing.

"Nah, I'm alright, sugar. Go back to sleep," he soothed as he brushed a stray hair away from your face. Your hands unburied themselves from the sheets and gripped at his forearm.

"At least hold me until then?" you asked, so damn sweetly. Like the only shelter in the wilderness was in Logan's arms. Like he was safe, someone worth being near when times got tough.

"Of course," he breathed with a sigh. You tugged the sheets down to offer Logan space to envelop you. He dutifully obeyed, sliding under the covers and cradling you to his chest. A content sigh puffed from your lips. He felt your eyes flutter closed as you buried your nose against his neck.

"Love ya, Lo," you slurred into his skin. It was only a few moments before your breathing mellowed out, sleep taking you under its soft wings.

Logan ran his hand up and down your spine. Soft skin ran past his fingertips in fields of heated velvet. The repetitive motion grounded him, reminded him that you were his. He pressed a kiss into the crown of your head.

"I love you, too," he whispered. He knew, unequivocally, that he was yours. Nightmares and all.

i might cry

taglist: @ripleyswife @just-a-nightdreamer @www-interludeshadow-com @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @amphitrite-5 @yarrystyleeza

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Day 5 - On the Brink

Prompts: 5- Begging + 8 - Overstimulation Character: Frank Castle Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Word Count: 390 Warnings: Explicit smut, referenced fingering, edging, overstimulation, begging, use of good girl, dirty talk, mild spanking, hints of brat tamer! Frank, p in v sex, unprotected sex, slightly rough sex Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

On the Brink

Almost there . . . you were close, teetering on the brink . . .

Then, as if he could remember your mind, Frank withdrew his fingers from your cunt. No! Not again! You tried to push back, to chase those fingers, but the heavy weight of Frank’s other arm against your back kept you pinned to the counter. No matter how much you struggled, he was too strong. You could do nothing to stop those fingers from leaving. From having your building orgasm shatter into nothing for the third time.

“Frank!” you whined.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked, his now free hand massaging your upturned ass. “You need something?”

He knew damn well what you needed. That orgasm he had denied you three times! But your angry retort turned into a whimper when his fingers returned to your cunt. The touch was so light that under ordinary circumstances, you would have barely noticed it. But these weren’t ordinary circumstances. Your clit was swollen with need, from being brought to that edge again and again without ever being allowed to topple over it. Even that barely-there touch felt so good, it was almost painful. And almost enough to make you cum. Almost but not quite . . . 

You whimpered even louder when those fingers once again were withdrawn.

“What does my good girl need?” he asked, gripping your hips and pressing himself against you. You whined at the sensation of his hard cock sliding through your soaked folds, then whimpered when the head nudged against your entrance. “Does she need me to fuck her?”

“Yes,” you moaned out. “Fuck me.”

He slapped your ass. “Good girls ask nicely.”

“Frankie!”

Another smack. “Don’t start being a brat. Ask nicely.”

“Please fuck me,” you begged, too desperate to care that you were begging. “Please, I need your cock, please, plea-!”

Your begging cut off in a wail as he pushed himself inside you. All the way in, without a single pause. Then he began to thrust. The pace was fast and hard. His grunts mixed with your moans, almost loud enough to drown out the obscene squelching noise of his cock filling your cunt again and again.

You didn’t even notice the hand leaving your hip. Until its fingers were once against rubbing your clit.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged, feeling yourself teetering once more on the brink.

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Day 3 - Sleeping Beauty

Prompt: 1 - Somnophilia Character: Matt Murdock Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: ~900 Warnings: Somnophilia, referenced oral sex (f and m receiving), hand-job, p in v sex, unprotected sex Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Sleeping Beauty

It was early. Far too early to be awake on a day neither of you had anywhere to be. You really ought to go back to sleep. That would be the most sensible thing to do.

But you didn’t want to do the sensible thing.

Not with Matt sprawled across your bed, the early morning light painting his nude body in an ethereal glow. It was sight fit for a Cavaragio. One of his fallen angels. Or one of the martyrs. Something holy. Which was pretty ironic. Given that your thoughts were anything but holy.

No, your mind was on all the ways Matt could make you scream. There were so many. You were rather amazed that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint. It wasn’t lack of effort. You certainly hadn’t been quiet earlier this week when he had his face buried in your cunt. Not that you ever were. Matt had a very talented mouth. And a lot of enthusiasm for eating you out.

Not that your man was a one-trick pony. Far from it. He was equally talented with his hands and his cock. With similar level of enthusiasm. You were pretty sure that if he could, Matt would spent the rest of his life between your thighs. With his biggest dilmenia being deciding between fucking you with his tongue or his cock.

If you were being perfectly honest, that didn’t sound terrible.

But that did remind you that it had been too long since you and Matt last had sex. Probably not by someone’s standards since it had only been three days. But that was three too many as far as you were concerned. You wanted him inside you.

It was stupid early but you doubted that he would complain about being woken up for sex. You considered your options. Simply shake his shoulder until he woke up? Or ride him until pleasure pulled him out of the depths of slumber?

The second option had a lot of appeal. It was straightforward. It would turn Matt into a blissful puddle. And he had been very intrigued by the idea when you had first shared the fantasy with him. Unfortunately, turning that fantasy into a reality had proved trickier than either of you had anticipated.

You had gotten close on the last time. Very close. Maybe this time you would succeed.

Settling between his legs, you took a deep breath. Held it, then let it out slowly. If there was one thing your previous attempts had taught you, it was that this required patience. Go too fast and he’d wake up before you were ready.

Holding your breath, you placed your hands on top of his thigh. He didn’t stir. You breathed a sigh of relief. The first touch was among the most fraught, one of the moments where he was mostly likely to be startled awake. You gently massaged his thigh, marveling as you always did at the muscle laying under his skin.

He shifted, murmuring something too soft and jumbled for you to make you. For a moment, you thought you had failed. Again. But just as soon as it had started, the movement ended. When your fingers dared to brush against the more sensitive skin of his inner thigh, the skin rippled but otherwise there was no reaction.

Except his cock. It was waking up even if the rest of him wasn’t. As it had every time you had tried this. Could be the touching. Matt loved being touched, always leaning into your touch and looking a little disappointed whenever the touching stopped. Could be your arousal. You could feel how wet you were. Matt had shown himself unable to ignore such things. He might be able to restrain himself from ravishing you on the pool table at Josie’s but not from whispering all the things he wanted to do with you once you were alone in your ear.

Your cunt clenched at those memories. And had to take a moment to supress the urge to just grab his partially erect cock. As much as you wanted him inside you, that would absolutely wake Matt up. And you didn’t get that many chances to attempt this fantasy.

Your patience was rewarded. When you slipped your hand around his cock, it twitched and Matt murmured again but did not wake. Feeling more confident, you used a combination of your hands and mouth to work him into full hardness. All the while, Matt’s murmuring increased, sometimes becoming clear enough to be understand (sweetheart . . . . yes . . . please), along with his restless movements. Still in the depths of sleep but he was swimming toward the surface.

You didn’t have much time left. It was time to be bold. After making sure his cock was coated in your slick, you lined it up with your entrance and began to sink down. You couldn’t contain your moans. Even the smallest amount of him inside you felt so good . . . a feeling that only grew as you brought him deeper and deeper inside you. Until he was fully sheathed inside your cunt.

And wonder of wonders, Matt was on that gray zone between sleeping and awake. His eyes hadn’t fluttered open yet but he was aware enough that his hands were grabbing your ass. Not quite aware enough to stop the restless movements of his hips. Or the whiny moans from spilling out of his mouth.

Smiling in triumphant, you braced your hands on his chest and began to ride him.

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A House That Isn’t A Home

Description: A look into Axl’s home life

Prompt: Broken (day 3)

Part 2 of “You’re My Red Rose”

⚠️WARNINGS ⚠️: PHYSICAL ABUSE, SUICIDAL IDEATION

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

Andrew unlocked the door with the extra key his father, John, had made for him. They entered to see Mia, his little half-sister, sitting on the couch, hugging her pink teddy bear. John was seated at the table with his head resting in the palm of his hand. Empty beer bottles and cans surrounded him. His mother, Maude, was at work, not getting off until 10 o’clock that night, which meant John was drinking to pass the time. He turned his head to look at the two boys standing at the door. Andrew pushed Axl towards. Axl stepped back. He was now less than an inch away from Andrew

“What he done did, Drew?” John asked in his strong country accent.

Axl could hear Andrew chuckle. “Kissing boys, Pops.”

You could hear a pin drop in the room with how silent it was in there.The first person to move after a period where they all stood still was John. He started to undo his belt. Axl knew what that meant. As if a trigger was pulled, Mia covered her ears and looked at the wall behind her. John charged at him. He tried to run, but Andrew held him down. John swatted the belt at him, striking the outer part of his leg. It stung.

Axl kicked and kicked and kicked in an attempt to break from Andrew’s hold. He failed. Andrew had a tight grip on him. John struck him again on the arm, leaving behind a red mark.

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again! I’m sorry!” Axl pleaded, tasting the salt of his tears.

“You better be sorry,” John grumbled.

He finally stopped swinging. Andrew let him go. Axl immediately ran to his and Mia’s room, falling onto his bed. He buried his face into his pillow, letting the tears run wild. The sting from the seats lingered on his skin. Loud footsteps could be heard approaching him. He quickly jumped up, afraid his father had returned to continue. However, he was met with Mia’s terrified eyes. He apologized for scaring her. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around. He pulled her into his lap, resting his head on top of hers as they snuggled. She looked up at him with tears in his eyes.

“Don’t cry, Mia.” Axl soothed, brushing back her brown hair.

She sniffed. “I thought-I thought-I thought he was going to kill you, Billy.”

She cried harder, hugging herself tightly against his chest. Axl didn’t know what to say. He thought he was going to kill him, too.

“It’s going to be okay, Mia” was all he could come up with.

Axl wasn’t going to make that a promise. John was getting more violent by the day. He was sure that one day he was going to snap and…do despicable things. John and Andrew went to the gun range almost every weekend. They had a passion for weapons of different kinds. That was the one thing they bonded over as father and son. Axl knew John wasn’t afraid to use it. He could recall the day he came home from school to witness John threatening his mother with a pistol against her head. His finger inches from pulling the trigger. Axl sat there and watched as John threatened to shoot her if he dared to call the police.

From that day forward, he tried to stay on John’s good side, if there was even one, to keep Mia safe. The pressures of school and being basically the only caregiver of his little sister was becoming too much for him. Some days he wanted to end it. To take John's gun and put a bullet into his own head, but he knew if he did, there would be nobody to give Mia the care she deserved. He would rather live with this feeling than see her get hurt whilst his soul is free.

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Tuna-Tober Day 2 - Qrow Branwen

pairing: Qrow Branwen x fem!OC

prompt: "Why? Why do you love me?"

word count: 2,500

content: this is honestly a bit of a dead dove, whoops. Grimm attack, weapon use (scimitars, hand crossbows, scythe, great sword, shotgun), blood, language, angst.

tuna-tober masterlist / main masterlist

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more / gif found on comic vine

“All right kids, for today’s lesson we’re hitting the great outdoors! You all have gone above and beyond your training here at the school, so the headmaster has granted us permission to take it to the next level. After all, when you get to Beacon, combat training in a real setting starts on day one!” Rayne announced to her small class of future Huntsmen. An excited gasp filled the air before hands shot up into the air for questions. “Yes, Crystal?”

“Do you think we’ll run into any Beowolves?” the excited girl asked, practically vibrating with excitement. 

Rayne taught the class on Grimm at Signal. After years of hunting the devilish creatures, she had gained an understanding of them and knew their individual strengths and weaknesses. Up until now, the kids had never gone into combat with the creatures, they only knew how to take them on in theory from what she had taught them. So when the headmaster proposed the idea, it made her nervous. 

Her nerves had been soothed though by the plan the school board had devised going into the day, so she smiled at Crystal and nodded, telling her, “That’s the goal. We got a mission from the board saying that there’s a small pack that’s been destroying farm land. That’s where we’re headed.” 

“With a little bit of guidance,” came the voice of Taiyang as he entered the room, waving to the kids with a big smile on his face. 

“Mr. Xiao Long!” chorused some of the students as their combat teacher entered the room. 

“Don’t forget about your backup,” came a second voice as he entered with another small group of students behind him.

“How could I forget?” Rayne asked in a teasing voice as everyone gathered in the room. “Mr. Branwen and his class will be joining us, as well as Mr. Xiao Long,” she announced to her students. “Remember that, while, yes, we are going out to hunt Grimm, you are still in class. You are to follow all of our instructions if you want to stay safe. If you’ve paid attention in my class, you know that the Grimm are no joke. So remember to stay sharp out there.”

“Yes ma’am,” the students replied. 

“Now, the only real way to learn how to fight the Grimm is to do it yourself. So that’s what we plan on letting you kids do,” Qrow said. “We’ll be there if something goes wrong, so if you get overwhelmed we’ll step in. And obviously, you’re working under our licenses, so don’t blow it.” This last comment was met with some quiet laughs from the students. 

“And remember combat order!” Tai announced. “Get into groups before we get out there and use your skills and weapons to your advantage. If you can fight something ranged, let your ranged fighters go. If you end up in melee combat, work together. We don’t want any injuries, but we especially don’t want to accidentally hurt one another. Got it?”

“Yes sir!”

“Okay! Everyone grab your weapons and let’s go!” Rayne called, which resulted in her class getting up and heading out the door. 

There was a buzz of excitement in the air as they filed out, but she still couldn’t help her nerves starting to climb at the prospect of what they were doing. “It’s gonna be alright,” Qrow said, placing his hand on her shoulder to reassure her for what felt like the hundredth time since the inception of the plan. 

Tai nodded and reminded her, “The farmers said they’ve only seen three Beowolves on the property. With the students and the three of us, it’ll be a cake walk!”

Qrow chuckled and said, “I’m sure Ruby could take them all on her own, but we’ve asked her to leave at least one for the other students.”

A small smile fell onto her lips before she nodded and blew out an anxious breath. “It’ll be fine. It’s just three Grimm. They can handle three Grimm.”

As it turned out, there were more than three Grimm. The students successfully took down the three that were reported without any assistance from the teachers, but right as they were about to celebrate, a feeling of dread began creeping up Rayne’s spine. It was a feeling she always got when she sensed Grimm in the area. Turning around toward the treeline at the edge of the property, Rayne saw the red eyes of a lurking pack of Beowolves. There had to be at least fifteen of them. 

“Tai, Qrow, get the kids to-!” 

Before she could finish her sentence though, the beasts were charging at the group at full speed! Pulling her scimitars from their sheaths, Rayne ran toward the pack, hoping that engaging them in close quarters would be a distraction enough so the kids could get to safety. Rayne’s blade slashed through the underside of one of the beasts, but as it faded to dust around her, another lunged at her, which she stabbed in the throat before ripping downward. 

Taking in her surroundings, she saw a few of the Grimm had broken off and started to overwhelm a small group of students. Reaching into one of the small quivers she had on either side of her hips, she hit the button that would enable the arrows with combustion Dust at the same time as she hit the button to transform one of her scimitars into a hand crossbow. Once the arrow was loaded within a few seconds, she aimed right at the head of one of the Grimm before it could land a blow on the fighting student. 

The explosion downed the creature, and as it turned to dust, its fellows turned to look at where the attack came from. Right as they did, she activated her semblance and caused a bright sunbeam to refract off of the surface of her scimitar and into their eyes. “Go! Now!” she shouted to the kids who nodded and began running toward where Tai was ushering the students into the safety of a nearby barn. 

Right before she turned around to engage with more of the combatants, she heard the growl of one of the beasts right behind her. She felt the air swish and saw the shadow of its great paw reaching into the air to attack before suddenly fading into dust, a whimper leaving its chest in its final breath. 

“Miss Beaux, are you okay?” asked Ruby as she skidded to a halt beside Rayne, using the blade of Crescent Rose to stop her momentum. 

“I’m fine, thank you, Ruby,” she told her with a gracious smile. 

“Gettin’ rusty?” Qrow asked with an audible smirk in his voice as he came to stand beside the two of them. 

“Just because I teach full time doesn’t mean I’m not still going on hunts,” Rayne countered before turning to face the pack of beasts who were now staring them down. 

“Ruby, go help your dad protect the others,” Qrow told her as his eyes darted around to make sure that all of the Grimm were solely paying attention to them. 

“But Uncle Qrow, I-”

“I know you can hold your own, and that’s why I need you with them!” Qrow said sharply. “If this goes sideways and any one of them breaks from the pack, I need to know that everyone over there is safe!”

“I’ll blind them so you can get through. Use your semblance,” Rayne told her with a nod. 

“Got it,” she replied as Rayne once again activated her semblance and Ruby dashed away, leaving a trail of rose petals in her wake. 

By then, Rayne had transitioned her weapon back into its scimitar form and it was just her and Qrow back to back as the beasts circled. With a small smile on her lips, she asked, “Like old times?”

“Like old times,” he confirmed before they both engaged in combat with the Grimm once more. The pair worked in tandem with Qrow using the shotgun feature of Harbinger to wound the beasts before Rayne went in and sliced them up to finish them off. 

They made quick work of the remaining six beasts, and Rayne thought they were done before suddenly she heard Qrow shout in pain behind her. Snapping her head toward the sound, she saw the remnants of Qrow’s depleted aura in the air as the Beowolf pinned him to the ground and snarled. There was another shout of agonizing pain as the beast dragged its claws over Qrow’s chest and crimson began to seep into the fabric of his coat. 

“Qrow!” Rayne shouted in horror before charging at the beast and laying it out within seconds. “No, no, no, no, no! This can’t be happening…” Rayne whispered as she dropped her weapons and began trying to stop the bleeding. 

Qrow spotted one final Grimm making its way toward the barn and lifted a shaky hand to point it out, telling Rayne, “Go…”

“No! Ruby and Tai can handle it,” she said as she picked up one of her weapons and cut off a piece of Qrow’s tattered cloak in order to hold pressure on the wounds. 

“But-” he tried, becoming weaker and weaker as blood began pooling around him.

“No, don’t you do that! Don’t close your eyes, Qrow,” Rayne whispered desperately as she watched his eyes grow heavy with every passing second. As misfortune would have it though, Qrow’s eyes began to shut and tears started to fall as she whispered, “I love you…” 

Qrow woke up what felt like seconds later in a hospital room. As he looked at his surroundings, he saw Rayne scribbling furiously in a journal, so he asked in a scratchy voice, “Making lesson plans?”

Rayne looked up from her journal and a smile made its way onto her face as tears jumped into her eyes upon seeing Qrow awake. “Thank the Brothers,” she whispered before closing the journal and scooting her chair closer to the bedside. 

“What happened?” Qrow asked as he managed to sit himself up in the bed. 

“Ruby handled that last Beowolf and Tai called the Vale emergency line to report a fallen huntsman. You were in and out of it while they brought you here,” Rayne detailed. A proud smile made its way onto her lips as she added, “One of your students actually unlocked his semblance when he saw what happened. As far as we understand how it works, he’s able to close wounds. That’s what stopped you from totally bleeding out.”

“Thank him for me when you go back to work,” Qrow said. 

“Why not tell him yourself?”

“I’m not going back,” he muttered, running a hand over the bottom half of his face as he sighed in frustration. 

“Qrow-”

“I’m not going back, Ray,” he told her firmly. “I was the reason those kids ended up in danger!”

“Qrow, we don’t know that,” she tried, laying a hand over his and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“You know as well as I do that that’s a lie,” he snapped, pulling his hand away from hers in order to run it through his hair. “I don’t know why I ever let Oz sucker me into this job in the first place…”

“Because he knew you would have a great impact on the future huntsmen who will one day have our backs out there,” Rayne told him gently. 

“Or because he knew that something like this would happen where it would be a sink or swim situation for the kids! Well, I’m not letting that happen again. I won’t endanger them! I won’t endanger you again!” he nearly shouted. “You’re better off without me…”

His words stung and Rayne was quiet for a few moments before asking quietly, “Is this about what I said before you passed out?”

There was a silence that hung heavy in the air for a few moments before Qrow asked in a broken voice, “Why? Why do you love me?” The hurt and emotion in his voice made her heart ache, and all she wanted to do was reach out and comfort him. “All I do is cause misfortune wherever I go. It’s not safe with me. It could have been you that the damn thing got, and if that had happened I would never be able to forgive myself.”

“Because of that right there,” she said as he got up from the bed and began grabbing his clothes off of the rack the hospital workers had hung them on. As he ducked behind the privacy curtain to get changed, she continued, telling him, “You care so much for others. You protect fiercely, and even if you don’t like to admit it, you love deeply. You push people away because of your semblance, but have you ever stopped to think that maybe some of us don’t care?”

“But I put you in danger, I-” he said as he emerged in his clothes which had been cleaned and repaired.

Rayne held eye contact with him as she put her heart on her sleeve and told him, “I love you Qrow Branwen. If you can’t accept that, I understand, but I just can't deny my feelings for you anymore. I can’t keep things casual anymore with someone I love as much as you.”

“Then I guess we’re over…” Qrow said quietly as he grabbed Harbinger and walked out the door, leaving Rayne to figure things out on her own. 

this made me wanna watch RWBY again!

also yes, her name is Rayne Beaux and her semblance is light refraction 🤣🤣 since this was just a one shot i just needed to throw a bare bones character together, but once i get The Story of Us written more fully, I may have her make an appearance somewhere in there because I really ended up liking her!

a day late on Tuna-Tober, but i was a sleepy gal after work yesterday😅 this may well happen throughout the month but my school is also having an IT breakdown so i can’t really school rn anyways 🤷🏻‍♀️

taglist: @i-live-in-spite @reidmarieprentiss

🌊TUNA-TOBER🌊 PROMPT CHALLENGE 2024

Hello friends! Are you looking for a prompt challenge for 2024, but don't really feel the desire to stick to only one genre? Does your sole feel betta suited to taking on a prompt challenge that provides options for kink, fluff, AND angst? Or, are you just looking to see what delicious fics or art might spawn from some of the gill-iant minds of a few writers and artists on tumblr? Whale, here's your chance!

(fine, I'll put away the puns, just know I did it on porpoise)

Started by the Murdock's Tuna Team discord server, the Tuna-Tober Prompt Challenge is a unique fic/art challenge, in which for every day in October, you are provided one of three prompts: a kink prompt, a fluff prompt, and a whump/angst prompt. Like many other 'Tober prompt challenges, it isn't mandatory to complete all the prompts. You're free to choose as you please! Do one! Do ten! Do one a day! Do them all! Mix and swap as needed! The Tuna-Tober Prompt Challenge is meant to stir your creativity, not fill you with stress. There also is no fandom or character requirement, so chase that muse where She leads you. In addition to our three prompts for each day of October, there are also four sets of backup prompts, just in case you hit a day where you just ain't feeling the three that were provided.

This blog isn't just for the rules, however. It'll also be reblogging any Tuna-Tober fics or art that our lovely team of writers and artists complete so we can keep them all in one place! If you'd like to read those fics, all you have to do is give us a follow. And if you really don't want to miss anything, feel free to set us for notifications!

If you're taking part in Tuna-Tober, either as a writer or an artist, please remember to tag your fic or art: Tuna-Tober 2024. That way I can find your fics or art to reblog. If you only post on AO3, you can also make a post here on tumblr linking to it (remember to tag it), and I can reblog that. Once I have the time, I'll set up a collection on AO3 that'll gather up any fics or art we have there, too! ❤️

Without further ado, our prompts!

Day 1: Falling Asleep In A Hospital Room ⚜ Reading To Each Other ⚜ Somnophilia

Day 2: “Why? Why do you love me?” ⚜ Flower Crowns ⚜ Mutual Masturbation

Day 3: Broken ⚜ “I feel real when i’m with you.” ⚜ Role Reversal

Day 4: “This isn’t you.” ⚜ “Are you blushing?” ⚜ Sixty-Nine

Day 5: Self-Loathing ⚜ Watergun Fight ⚜ Begging

Day 6: "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." ⚜ Love Bites ⚜ “Spread your legs for me.”

Day 7: Nightmare ⚜ Honest Apology ⚜ Nothing Underneath

Day 8: Shaking ⚜ “You can sleep here tonight.” ⚜ Overstimulation

Day 9: Anxiety ⚜ “You don’t need to do that.” “I want to.” ⚜ “Open your mouth.”

Day 10: "I'm not good enough." ⚜ A Hug That Lasts A Little Too Long ⚜ Strap-on/Pegging

Day 11: Tears ⚜ “I’d be lost without you.” ⚜ Breast Worship

Day 12: "I did it for you.” ⚜ “You remembered?” ⚜ Deep-Throating

Day 13: Loneliness ⚜ Playful Kiss ⚜ “Beg me for it.”

Day 14: "Please look at me." ⚜ Sleep Talking ⚜ Accidental Stimulation

Day 15: Hiding An Injury ⚜ “Are you jealous?” ⚜ Threesome

Day 16: Exhaustion ⚜ Accidental Kiss ⚜ Against A Window

Day 17: "I'm not leaving you." ⚜ Tickling ⚜ “Touch yourself for me.”

Day 18: Scars ⚜ Pillow Fort ⚜ “I’m so proud of you, you’re taking me so well.”

Day 19: Touch starved ⚜ “I’ll always be there for you.” ⚜ Gags

Day 20: "Who did this to you?" ⚜ There Was Only One Bed ⚜ “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Day 21: Fainting/Collapsing ⚜ Flustered ⚜ “Was that an order?”

Day 22: "You haven't done anything wrong." ⚜ Breathless Kiss ⚜ Aphrodisiacs

Day 23: Father ⚜ “If you won’t take care of yourself, I will.” ⚜ Toys

Day 24: Drugged ⚜ Drunken Confession ⚜ “Shh, do you want them to hear us?”

Day 25: "What's Wrong?" ⚜ Playing With Their Hair ⚜ “Did I say you could do that?”

Day 26: "You're not fine." ⚜ “Shut up and kiss me.” ⚜ Under The Desk

Day 27: Near Death Experience ⚜ Overheard Confession ⚜ “Let me see what that pretty mouth can do.”

Day 28: Chronic Pain ⚜ Sharing An Umbrella ⚜ Hair Pulling

Day 29: "Talk to me, please." ⚜ Forehead Kiss ⚜ Restraints

Day 30: Healing ⚜ Road Trip ⚜ “Take it off. Slowly.”

Day 31: "Why wasn't I enough?" ⚜ Blanket Hog ⚜ Stockings/Thigh Highs

🌊Tuna-Tober🌊 Backup Prompts:

Bound/Chained ⚜ Moving In Together ⚜ Almost Getting Caught

"Take me instead." ⚜ “I’m in love with you, and that scares me.” ⚜ High Heels

Insomnia ⚜ Adopting A Pet ⚜ Scent Marking

"You're not alone." ⚜ Playing A Game Together ⚜ Ass Worship