#[wipes the dust off of both of those tags]

[charpim]

tumblr user charpim posting charpim. scandalous.

[ohproserpine]

i. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3 tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, allusions to murder and such, unsettling & obsessive behavior, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love

"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?"

"Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—"

“Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?”

“Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”

"An’ how come I never heard of this? People ain't told me shit!" Angel Dust grumbled, turning to Husk behind the counter. "You knew 'bout this, whiskers?"

"Yeah. They were together back in the living. But don't even think of bringing it up in front of Alastor. He gets all heated," Husk grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe down Mimzy’s now-empty glass. The cat then turned to grab another bottle off the shelf, a grimace on his lips. "I would know."

Angel Dust leaned forward, resting his face on his folded hands. "Well, ain't that something. Never knew he even had one of those."

Mimzy cackled, her voice a raspy melody that echoed through the smoky air of the bar as she snatched the bottle of liquor away from Husk’s paws. "Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even know how deep it goes. They go way back."

"Spill," Angel Dust grinned, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Mimzy leaned in, looking both ways to make sure Alastor or his shadows weren't around before lowering her voice. "It was back in the day, at my joint. Alastor dropped by for the bootlegs, you know? But then he caught sight of her. She was singin’ and dancin’ on stage, a real heartbreaker. He couldn't resist the charm, and boom, he was struck on! Ever since then, he came around as frequently as he could. Made me so much money~" 

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, his long lashes fluttering as he squished his cheek against his palm, a coy smirk playing on his lips. "And you were part of this love saga?"

Mimzy shook her head, a wicked glint dancing in her eyes before she lifted the bottle to her lips and downed its contents in one swift motion, her throat working as she swallowed. "Oh, sugar, just a witness to the drama. Those two lovebirds had their own dance going on. I just spiced things up."

Angel Dust chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought smiles had it in him."

"Again. He likes to keep his shit private. So, don't go running your mouth unless you wanna be on the receiving end of one of his… episodes," Husk interrupted, his gruff voice breaking through the conversation as he leaned over the counter and reclaimed the bottle from Mimzy with a low growl.

Angel hummed dismissively, his golden tooth catching the glimmer of the bar lights as he spoke. “Anyone could've guessed that. Where is she, anyways? I haven't seen or heard of her since day one."

"Busy," Mimzy snorted, her finger lazily tracing the rim of her glass. She leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the bar lights casting shadows across her features. "That's where."

“Really?" Angel's brow lifted in skepticism, his boot lightly kicking against the base of Mimzy's chair. "Busy? That’s it?”

Mimzy shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Can't tell ya much. Y'know Alastor doesn't like sharin'. Secrets and shadows, that's his game."

“Aww c'mon, tits,” Angel grinned, his golden tooth glinting beneath the bar lights with each word. “You gotta know more than you let on. It'll be our secret.”

"Well," Mimzy drawled, savoring the suspense as she tapped a gloved finger against her cheek. "I guess I can tell you a lil’ something about how they met…”

.

Alastor found himself standing in the heart of a secluded corner of town. 

A desolate, dimly lit street stretched out before him, raindrops rhythmically tapping on the worn concrete beneath his feet.

It was something he had never imagined—searching for a speakeasy in this far-off locale. Rarely did he have time for himself. Most of his days were dedicated to caring for his mother, his job as a radio host, and any free time he had was reserved for his… hobbies. But he supposed a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.

Adjusting his glasses, he gazed up at the timeworn, ragged sign of a barbershop that read, "Chum’s Clippers." 

Charming. 

With a roll of his eyes, the radio host stepped into the worn-down establishment, visibly grimacing at the shop's decrepit condition. His eyes surveyed the room, settling on a young blonde woman. 

Perched on the edge of the registrar counter, a cigar dangled between her cherry-red lips, the tendrils of smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals. Her legs crossed provocatively, causing the fabric of her dress to ride up her thighs, revealing more skin than what civil society would allow. 

As soon as she caught sight of Alastor's silhouette, a spark of excitement lit up her features, and she greeted him with an animated wave.

"Hey there, mistah! Names Mimzy!" she chirped with a friendly lilt. Her crimson-painted nails plucked the cigarette from her lips, trailing a wisp of smoke as she gestured toward Alastor. "Whatcha here for?"

"Pleasure to meet you," Alastor smiled back and stepped closer, offering her a bow of his head, “Quite a pleasure. You see, I was just strolling through these darling streets, and wouldn't you know it? The whispers in the wind pointed me straight to you, the gal in the know when it comes to bootlegs. Care to confirm?"

‘A potential client?" Mimzy thought, her smirk hidden behind her hand as she took one last puff, the cherry of her cigar glowing brightly before she flicked it into an ashtray. 'Straight to the point.'

"Well, well, mistah," she drawled with a playful twirl of her finger through her blonde curls. "You've got a nose for sniffin' out the good stuff, huh? Well, we might have a few things tucked away for the right kind of folk. But, sugar, we don't just give 'em to anyone.”

Alastor's smile widened as he smoothly fished out his wallet, giving it a theatrical wave. "I do have a penchant for fine libations, my dear. And I assure you, I'm just looking for a little taste of the local flavor, nothing more."

Mimzy's eyes sparkled with mischief as she perked up, eagerly hopping off the counter. The click of her heels echoed against the worn floor as she approached the tall man.

"You're in luck, then! Follow me, and we'll talk business in the back," she said, gesturing toward a concealed door at the back of the barbershop.

Alastor followed her through a narrow passage, which unveiled another door leading to the very speakeasy he’d heard talk of. The atmosphere changed instantly, lively jazz music filled the air, and the dimly lit space was alive with laughter and clinking glasses.

Mimzy guided Alastor to a private booth tucked away in a corner, where a polished bottle of bootleg whiskey awaited their arrival.

"Here's to unexpected encounters, mistah," she beamed, the words dripping with charm as she poured a generous measure into his glass. Alastor raised his glass in acknowledgment, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"To unexpected encounters," he echoed before taking a deep sip.

The whiskey was bitter and strong, yet there was a subtle sweetness that danced on his tongue, leaving behind a tantalizing warmth. It had been increasingly difficult to find such fine brews ever since the prohibition hit, making each sip all the more precious.

Seating himself comfortably, Alastor swirled the glass in his hand, mesmerized by the way the golden liquid caught the flickering candlelight. Beside him, Mimzy continued her lively chatter, her words accompanied by the persistent clinking of ice in their glasses as she refilled his drink, hoping to stack his bill higher with each pour.

As the room hummed with the soft, easy notes of a piano and the clinking of glasses, a sudden hush fell over the crowd as an announcer's voice sliced through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the enchanting Dolly!"

Mimzy's excitement bubbled up even more, and she leaned in toward Alastor. "That's my sister! Well— not by blood, but you know, me and her are real, real close. One of my best performers here at the bar!"

"Is that so?" Alastor hummed, his eyes now alight with curiosity as he shifted his focus toward the stage.

In that moment, you stepped onto the platform, grabbing a hold of the standing microphone. With a subtle flick of your wrist, you directed attention to the dark-haired pianist, his fingers poised above the keys. A nod from you and the jazz ensemble sprung to life, setting the stage for your performance. As the spotlight enveloped you in a warm glow, a hushed silence fell over the speakeasy.

Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher She was a red hot hoochie-coocher She was the roughest, toughest frail But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale

The lyrics flowed easily through Alastor's mind, carried by the smooth, buttery tones of your voice that filled the air. The radio host found himself utterly hypnotized, his gaze never tearing from your form.

He could stare for hours, unabashed by any sense of shame—though, truth be told, he didn't possess much of that quality to begin with.

She messed around with a bloke named Smokey She loved him though he was kokey He took her down to Chinatown And he showed her how to kick the gong around

As Mimzy began clapping excitedly and waving her arms to beckon you over, Alastor's attention shifted. The final notes of the song echoed in the room, snapping him back to reality. In the haze of your performance, he hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end.

“What a gal!” Mimzy cackled, joyously wrapping her arms around you as you approached.

Alastor took a moment to study you with keen interest.

The dim lighting of the speakeasy lent a soft, ethereal glow to your figure as you moved, casting long shadows across the floor. A slender dress, shimmering with golden sequins, hugged your figure, shimmers and glitters catching the light. The dress boasted a daring low neckline, while its swaying boxed skirt gracefully fell just above your knees, accentuating your every movement. Complementing the ensemble were black kitten heels, their clicks and clacks adding a subtle rhythm to every step you took. Your hair, styled into a sleek bob, framed your demure features perfectly. Adorning your head was a headpiece adorned with golden yellow feathers and dark lace.

"Dollface, I want ya to meet Alastor!" Mimzy exclaimed, pulling you along and positioning you in front of him. “He’s new!”

With a wave of your hands and a warm smile, you tilted your head up to meet Alastor's gaze. The man standing before you was tall and slim, boasting broad shoulders. His white button-up clung perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms adorned with scars, cuts, and prominent veins.

‘Must be a hunter or a butcher,’ you noted heatedly.

Short, side-swept brunette hair framed his face, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance, while rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of intelligence. As he smiled, a chill crept down your spine, and an odd sinking sensation settled in your stomach.

There was an unsettling nature to him, a subtle aura that left you uncertain of whether your reaction stemmed from the eerie quality of his smile or if it was simply a flustered response to his strikingly handsome features. 

“Pleasure to meet you, cher,” Alastor purred, turning on the charm. He delicately took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. In a subtle move, the radio host let his fingers linger over your skin, subtly checking for any sign of a ring. Noticing the absence, he filed the information away with a sly smile. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, sir,” you smiled, tucking your face behind your hand. Alastor observed with delight as a subtle blush painted your cheeks, a tacit acknowledgment that his presence had left an impression.

"Al here knows his way around a glass of whiskey like nobody else in these parts! Ain't that right, Al?" Mimzy chattered, her voice bubbling with familiarity as if she had known him for years and hadn't just met him one song and ten drinks ago.

Alastor chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent your stomach doing flips. "

"Well, I do have a certain fondness for…" The radio host paused, his sharp, gaze raking up and down your form, his words trailing off. "…finer things in life."

A silence lingered in the air, and Mimzy, always attuned to the mood of a room, shot a knowing look between the two of you.

"Well, don't cha?" Mimzy exclaimed, her hands clapping with excitement. "If that's the case, then I'm sure Dolly would love to show you around here!"

"Is that so?" Alastor, maintaining that devilish smile, turned his attention back to you. "Well, what do you say, cher?" he questioned.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you met his gaze with a coy smile. "I'd be delighted to show you around. There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye."

Mimzy clapped her hands together. "Perfect! Now, why don't you two enjoy the rest of the night? I'll be right here waiting."

“Shall we?” Alastor offered his hand, gesturing to the dance floor.

With a small nod, you graciously accepted Alastor's outstretched hand, leading the way to the lively dance floor where the band played an upbeat tune. Around you, couples twirled in a dizzying dance, with heels tapping, shoes stomping, and skirts gracefully gliding and twirling. Alastor wasted no time, pulling you in and molding your form against his.

Looks were indeed deceiving, as despite his lean appearance, Alastor had no issue effortlessly tossing and spinning you round and round, lifting you as if you were as weightless as a feather. Each spin and dip was executed with skill, his footwork was a blur and soon enough, you found yourself willingly surrendering to the rhythm of his lead. 

This man could fucking dance.

As the music gradually slowed, Alastor guided you to the side, providing a moment to catch your breath after the energetic routine.

"Thank you for the dance, cher! You are quite quick on your feet," Alastor chuckled, his voice low, blending with the fading echoes of the music.

"You're not too bad yourself," you managed between breaths, a raspy laugh escaping your lips. "Nobody's ever been able to keep up with me," you continued, running a hand through your tousled hair and adjusting your dress. "I think I was the one who had to keep up with you."

After ensuring you were presentable, you lifted a hand to fix Alastor's slightly damp locks, adjusting his glasses and tie. Alastor froze, a foreign sensation enveloping him. Despite his typical aversion to physical contact, there was an absence of the usual recoil in disdain this time.

"Looks like we're both a bit of a mess, aren't we?" you chuckled, a wry smile playing on your lips as you gracefully brushed away a speck of dust from his shirt.

Alastor blinked and eventually relaxed, allowing you to proceed without any resistance. "Quite."

While you continued to fix him up, Alastor couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. He felt as though coils had entwined themselves around his heart. Slowly constricting, they didn't just tighten but twisted, sharp edges digging into muscle, squeezing his emotions into a thick syrup that spilled beyond the confines of his ribs, seeping out in a haunting shade of crimson through the cracks in his chest.

As the seconds passed, he paid no mind to your touch, shifting his focus to instead dissect you with his eyes. He scrutinized the subtle reactions playing across your face—the delicate twitches of your brows, the soft pout of your blood-red lips, and the scrunches of your nose. 

What were you doing to him?

"There you go!" you announced, a note of satisfaction in your voice as you finished your task, your hand coming to rest briefly on his chest before retreating. "Ready to head back?"

Snapping out of his obsessive trance, Alastor emitted a soft hum, offering his arm to you. You gracefully accepted, intertwining your arm with his. The energetic atmosphere from the dance gradually subsided as you and Alastor made your way back to the private booth. Mimzy's mischievous grin awaited you as she rejoined your company.

"Looks like you two had quite the time!" she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye.

Alastor quickly composed himself, nodding with a grin. "Indeed! It was quite a delightful dance."

Just as Alastor turned toward you, the insistent dings of a nearby clock echoed through the room. His expression shifted, a fleeting shadow of disappointment and ire crossing his face. The hours had danced away quicker than he had anticipated.

Undoubtedly, the night was still young for you, given that speakeasies often extended their festivities until the early hours of the morning.

However, as much as Alastor would adore the idea of continuing to enjoy your company, the weight of responsibilities at home tugged at him. He had his elderly mother waiting, relying on his care for her well-being, as well as an upcoming morning shift at the radio station.

"It's later than I realized, my dear," he admitted, his voice carrying a touch of regret. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. Duty calls, and the dawn awaits for my return."

Something twisted and snapped in Alastor's gut as he observed the unmistakable disappointment etched across your features, evident in the downturn of your blood-red lips. His fingers itched with an impulse to claw your mouth back into a smile, to dig his nails into your skin and carve your lips into a grotesque display of happiness, all in a desperate attempt to restore the radiance of your joy.

Meanwhile, Mimzy sighed in disappointment, yet Alastor discerned that beneath the theatrics, she was indifferent to it all, evident in her thinly veiled disinterest.

"Aww… That's too bad, sugar! The night's just gettin' started!" Mimzy exclaimed, shaking her head with a pout. 

"But I get it! Some folks got places to be," Mimzy waved it off. There was a sudden twinkle in her eye as she pulled out a tab from her dress pocket. "Anyways, 'bout those drinks you had, they weren't exactly on the house, sooo..."

Alastor chuckled and pulled out his wallet. "Of course, my dear! I apologize, it must not have crossed my mind!"

He settled the bill and threw in a generous tip, for both you and Mimzy. His job as a radio host was quite the money-spinner, affording him the pleasure of treating others to the finer things in life. Mimzy practically glowed with satisfaction, her blue eyes sparkling as she snatched the tab. Swift and efficient, she flipped through the bills, before pocketing the money.

"Thank you, love!" Mimzy chirped, already moving away from the table as she waved him off. "You're welcome anytime!"

“I’m sure I am,” Alastor responded flatly, almost mockingly, with a roll of his eyes, pulling a laugh from you. As Mimzy made her way off backstage, both you and Alastor were left alone.

“It's a shame you have to leave so soon. I've got more songs up my sleeve for later. I would have loved for you to stay and catch the performance,” you sighed, turning back to him.

Alastor's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Songs, you say? Well, cher, that does sound like a delightful experience. Perhaps I can catch your next show some other time."

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "I'd love that. I perform here regularly, and your company would be more than welcome anytime."

Alastor's gaze intensified, fixing onto you with a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer despite yourself. His eyes, pools of darkness, held an unexplainable intensity. As his lips curled up into a grin, there was a hint of something more primal than human lurking behind his charming facade. A shiver traced its way down your spine, leaving behind a lingering sensation that unsettled you to your core.

"I'll definitely make it a point to come by," he finally said. 

Scrambling for a response, the only sound that reached your ears was the rhythmic thud of your own heartbeat as your blood rushed through your veins.

"Y-You too! Don't let the night slip away too quickly," you stammered.

With a nod, Alastor bid you a final farewell, weaving through the dimly lit space towards the exit. 

Yes, he shall see you very soon.

Cher - Louisiana Creole term meaning "darling," "sweetie" or "honey."

[angelicpoison12]

fucking the rockstar ⋆｡°⋆

Adam fucks a cute groupie~

word count: 1.2k

tags: Adam being Adam, rockstar!Adam, groupie!reader, top!Adam, bottom!reader, fucking in the back of the tour bus, spit play, face sitting, doggystyle, rough sex, (mild) breeding kink, AFAB reader, gn!reader, no condoms, spit as lube, piercing kink, Adam's an animal ya'll have fun <3

NSFW, 18+ ✦

you can't even remember what the Hell got you in this situation.

you had the lead man of the band The Exorcists underneath you, his stubble scratching your folds, large hands gripping your thighs, holding you firmly as his tongue lapped at your soaked cunt. and fuck, you couldn't get enough. this had only been going on for two minutes or so, and you were already close to the edge. you ran your fingers through his hair affectionately, grinding your hips down onto his mouth, making you whimper, "Adam.. fuck, oh God," you whimpered. all he could do was smirk up at you, dragging his tongue over your swollen clit, the metal barbel of his tongue piercing making a chill run up your spine. a hand came up to cup your chest, and his eyes closed, a gentle hum leaving his lips. "you taste so fuckin' good, Sinner. like a goddamn dream,"

even though it was a nickname used for his fans all the time, it still made butterflies erupt in your belly when it rolled off of his lips. your humping got heavier, making Adam's tongue go into a frenzy. he wanted you so bad. he was so used to just quickies, making sure he got off first, leaving whoever he was pumping into in the dust. surprisingly though, this felt different. he wasn't one to get sappy or feel his heart get convulsions when he was fucking some whore in the back of his tour bus, but fuck, he got those with you. i mean, it wasn't everyday he let someone sit on his face, okay? you were pretty special to say the least.

"fuck, Adam, i-i'm gonna cummm!" the words were a little slurred. you swore you were getting drunk off of Adam's ministrations, and it seemed to be the same for the man below you, except with the taste of your entrance. he hummed eagerly, burying his face impossibly deeper inside of you, his tongue curling inside of you. both hands went back to digging into your plush thighs, black fingernails digging into the skin, making red crescent moons come up.

you cried out as you came, feeling yourself squeeze around his slippery tongue. he growled under you, cleaning you up from your release. Adam pushed you off, letting you land with a soft thud onto your back, hitting the mattress of his bunkbed. "oh, i'm far from done with you, bitch." Adam said with a chuckle. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. he undid his white studded belt, discarding his black t-shirt, which was wet from a mix of saliva and your fluids. "Adam.. 'm still really sensitive," you whined, feeling him hoist your legs over his thick hips. he quirked a brow at you and mockingly retorted, "too sensitive, hm? c'mere, Sinner,"

yeah, it was a little dumb. he didn't even know your name, yet he's had his tongue inside you, and now he's about to rearrange your guts. you'd heard a rumor that he was packing, and now you were about to find out. like a naive puppy, you lifted your body, feeling Adam's hands hold your shoulders. one hand came up, wordlessly lifting your chin. he hooked a thumb onto your lower lip, making you open your mouth.

he fucking spat in your mouth.

you coughed a little at the impact, feeling the slippery, foamy fluid in your gullet. it didn't taste like anything. it was like your own saliva, actually. you swallowed obediently, and you felt Adam's cock twitch in his pants at the sight. "fuck, that's a good sinner," he groaned, kissing your cheek, then your lips. you mewled into the kiss, your eyes slipping shut.

Adam flipped you, your tummy on the bed, hands and knees flat against the blanket. you felt the head of his cock against your entrance, and you looked back-oh yeah, he was fucking huge. a good six inches in length, a hell of a girth on that monster as well-but what caught your eye was something that glittered. did this fucker have his dick pierced? Adam noticed you staring and he smirked, tapping his tip on your butt. "yeah, got it done a few months ago. pretty cool, huh?" it was a prince albert piercing. you bit your lip, about to make some smartass comment, but whimpered when he rubbed his pierced cockhead against your swollen clit.

"yeah, feels good, doesn't it baby?" Adam asked, his voice teasing. all you could do was whine and press back against Adam, just aching to have him inside of you already. "aw, someone a desperate Sinner?" Adam cooed. you grabbed his pillow, burying your face into it as you grunted, "just shut up and fuck me..!" "mm, good Sinner," Adam purred, pushing himself all the way inside of you in one go.

"fuck!" you cried out, your back arching into Adam's pudgy gut. he groaned and held your hips with an iron-like grip, growling into your ear. "fuck.. you're so fucking tight, Sinner. you don't take a cock this big often, do ya?" Adam asked, snickering. he didn't even give you time to respond, starting to slam in and out of you. it didn't even hurt, it was just a small stretch at first. fuck, Adam's words were making you feel like you were on fire. you felt the head of his cock press against your walls, the piercing adding to the sensory journey of it all. "fuck! yes!" you moaned. you reached to grab the sheets, only for Adam's hand to snake up, trapping your hand in the sheets. this was your dream; getting fucked like some throwaway in the back of someone's tour bus.

by the way Adam was huffing, the erratic pace of his hips, his grip tightening on you-you knew he was getting close. "Adam, pull out," you panted. Adam full-blown laughed at your comment, his thrusts slowing. "mm, nah, babe, i don't think i will." he said with a menacing chuckle.

you whipped your head back to look at him, eyes wide with confusion. "i said to pull out, fucker! i didn't ask for you to!" you barked, getting cut off with a moan when his tip rubbed into your g-spot. Adam let out a huff of annoyance but did as you requested, pulling out. he stroked himself, moaning lowly as he came in hot spurts all over your butt. Adam hummed, rubbing his tip all over his release on your rump, making you groan in embarrassment. "you're gross.." you whined, making Adam let out a boisterous laugh. "aw, c'mon Sinner, i think it's cute. now clean off my cock with that pretty little mouth of yours, yeah?"

his request was too sweet to turn down. you knew you were going to be in this tour bus for a while. you should've texted your friends now that you thought about it, but hey, there's no thinking when it comes to The Original Dick.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

my sweet snowflake buddies! (i hope the first one in particular enjoys this teehee)

@6esiree , @sluxh-xo

[kaisntbreathing]

𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐗 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 PT 2

As requested part 2,

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢n𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝐓𝐖:

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐀/𝐧:

𝐈 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 I 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Tag list:

@mari0-o

@ghostdoodlen

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

And it all taken a turn for a worse you would only left him alone for moments taking your eyes off him for a moment to be able to focus on your enemy and that seemed to be enough time for the worst that happen.

As you heard a pain to yell from behind you and as soon as you spun around in the air everything seemed to slow down as you saw your husband fall to the ground as his golden blood splattered all over the brimstone below him as you cried out flying to his side as you held him in your arms as he bled out your eyes began to water.

"ADAM!"

As you held your dying lover in your arms he looked up at you weakly as his golden eyes looked up into your own eyes his eyes only held love as his light began to fade rapidly as he smiled a genuine smile not his usual smirk.

"I-I'm sorry Y/n....I love you."

"Don't say that shit Adam...You...You're going to be ok!"

You cried out as you held him in your arms desperately trying to heal him but your magic seemed to be depleted as you couldn't heal him properly as you shook and trembled with him in your arms as your salty hot tears soaked your face.

As he reached up weakly to wipe your way your tears he smiled as the blood seeped into your clothes and onto your hands.

"Please don't leave me...I still need you!"

"Maybe in another life....I love you and I always will ....Take care of Lute for me."

With that those were his final words to you as his body went limp in your arms as his eyes slowly fluttered shut as his chest deflated for the last time as you screamed out in agony and despair as you clutched onto his body.

"ADAM?! ADAM PLEASE THiS ISN'T FUNNY! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!"

You heard the sound of wings distantly beside you you didn't care enough to look up as tears aggressively fell from your eyes as they soaked his face and your own as you held on to him as his body slowly started to disintegrate.

"NO PLEASE!"

He started to disappear as golden dust was all that was left of his body as he faded into nothingness as all that was left to him was his halo and the ring that was on his ring finger as you took his halo and his wedding ring that matched yours you looked up in despair.

Lucifer looked at you with the look of both anger yet sympathy as he didn't need to say anything verbally you knew what he was trying to tell you as you gripped onto the halo you looked at him one last time pure rage filled your body as you promise to take down the ones that took the one thing that mattered most to you away.

"All Exorcist fall back"

As you took off into the sky you looked back one more time as tears fell from your cheeks as all the angels that were left alive took off following you back to Heaven as you crossed back over into the pearly portal as you all made it back to Heaven you looked up at Lute as she ran to you crying.

"It's ok Lute...I-Its....."

Your voice trailed off as it cracked as you tried to speak as your tears prevented you from doing so instead you gripped onto Lute's uniform tightly as you held the poor girl as she shook she was going through just as much as you were Adam was her best friend.

After that day you and Lute became really close neither of you were seeing without one another as you'd often spend the night with her refusing to be alone.

After Adam died you both changed becoming more cold and distant than you ever were before and the other archangels notice this in you Emily and Sera we're very sympathetic towards you understanding that you were going through a lot losing your husband.

"Y/n...You're our friend...Tell us if you need anything ok?"

You appreciated everybody's sympathy but also wish they wouldn't treat you like you were made of glass.

One year later

It was extermination time again and it was at part of the year where you were reminded of it what was taken from you as you flew down to Hell you began your extermination killing demons left and right until you saw demon in the corner of your eye that was watching you not afraid of you but watching.

You looked at the demon as the demon looked oddly familiar but you couldn't place it as you got closer it then dawned on you who it really looked like.

"...Adam?"

[the-kr8tor]

Knee Socks

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, bullying, blood, violence, food mentions, fluff.

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CHAPTER 3 >>> CHAPTER 4

Hobie converses with his friends, casually leaning on the playground's chain link fence, he's only eleven, that awkward stage where he thinks he's too old to use the slide, but still too young to be taken seriously by the older kids. He's too tall to be just eleven, almost a foot taller than his classmates, always mistaken for someone older, he takes it in stride, becoming his year's resident protector from would be bullies. His sheer height alone makes them stop in their tracks, not to mention his perseverance when the bully decides to fight Hobie, even if they're taller or bigger than him, he doesn't back down despite his lanky form and sometimes nerdy personality, wiping at his bleeding nose, he stands up, knuckles at the ready.

This alone makes Hobie an absolute legend in the playground. He doesn't care about that though, he just does what he thinks is right, and that's protecting those who cannot defend themselves.

The children playing stops in their tracks when a loud shriek rings out, ears perking at the difference of the sound from a happy playing yell. This one sounded like they were in pain, Hobie stomps towards the sound, the crowd parting for him.

He sees a bigger kid holding a smaller one by his ear, he recognizes the bully from his year, the smaller one seems like a year younger than him. The crowd around them gets bigger, some kids would be hollering for a fight, some could only watch. Before Hobie could run up to them, a flash of something pink hits the bully right on his forehead, causing him to let go, crouching and holding the bleeding cut it left behind.

You fearlessly strut up to him, screaming your tiny head off, "fuck off, Terrence!" You pick up the pink sketchbook from the ground, threatening to throw it again.

Hobie's eyes widened at your choice of word, not used to hearing it in the playground, he smirks at your bravery, especially that you're five times smaller than the bully. He watches as you shield the smaller kid from Terrence, book at the ready.

You look over your shoulder to look back at the younger kid on the ground, clutching at the shell of his ear, tears falling on his rosy cheeks. "You okay, Danny?"

With you distracted, Terrence finds the opportunity to grab you by the ankle, losing your balance and swiftly falling on your back, you let out a small pained sound. Hobie had enough of being a bystander, he runs up to the bully, punching him square in his face. Terrence doesn't back down, tackling Hobie, they both fall on the harsh gravel, Hobie shields his face from the oncoming punches while Terrence keeps aiming at his face.

You stand up, no time to dust yourself off, you yell a battle cry, flinging yourself on the bully's back, trying to get him off Hobie. Your small fists thump helplessly on the bigger kid's back. Suddenly the crowd parts, a couple of winded teachers arrive, one yanks you off Terrence, while the other stops him from punching Hobie. They hold you both back, like a couple of kittens trying to claw and scratch at each other.

"Enough!" One of the teachers yells out, Hobie sits up, a cut on his lip. Eyes watching as you don't let up from trying to kick Terrence's ass.

—

You sit on one of the school clinic's cot, an ice pack on your head, the condensation slides over your face, landing on the paper of your mangled sketchbook.

"Little shit" you murmur out, wiping at the water on your precious notebook.

The curtains separating the beds flings open, you jump from the sound of metal.

"Y'know you could get in trouble for that" Hobie looks at you, a similar ice pack over his cheek. He sits criss crossed on the bed, blanket pooling around him.

"You would know, of course" the previous anger still lingers, your usual shyness gone from your system.

"So you've heard of me?" He raises his brow, hissing when he moves it.

"Who hasn't heard of you? Here" you toss your ice pack over to his cot, "you look like you need it more" Hobie fumbles a bit before he finally catches it. He looks back at you, your face scrunched up in anger, brows knitted together, you look at the pink notebook like it'll spontaneously combust right in front of you.

"You look like Gromit, when you're mad" he brings your previous ice pack to his brow, the other held up to his cheek. "Y'know when he scrunches his face" you look at him angrily "like that!" He points out.

"Hey! You want a piece of me too?" It sounded much braver in your head, but with the fading adrenaline and anger, your shyness peeks back in, making your sentence sound meek.

Hobie holds up his hands, dropping the ice packs on the bed "nah, I can't fight you"

"Why? Just because I'm a girl?"

"Nope, I saw what you did to big Terry, thought you gave him brain damage" he pokes his temples. "I don't want that notebook flying at me, especially with that aim of yours"

"Fucker already has brain damage" you say softly, your shyness definitely creeping in, but you're still angry enough to swear.

"Where'd you learn to curse like that? You don't look like someone who swears"

"The telly" you shrug.

"That shit ain't good for you"

"You sound like an adult," you scrunch your nose "they always tell me I swear a lot when I'm mad. You swear too, y'know"

"I'm allowed" Hobie leans back, grinning.

"How are you allowed?" you ask, genuinely curious. Why is he allowed and you're not?

"I'm older" he says matter-of-fact.

"You're only a year older than me" you scoff, wincing when a sharp pain hits the back of your head.

Hobie hops down from the bed, quickly grabbing the ice packs. He moves towards you, sitting down, your sketchbook in the middle between you. He hands you the ice pack back, you give him a small thanks, hissing when the cold hits your skin.

"You alright? D'you want me to get the nurse?" He asks you as if he wasn't injured himself, looking worse than you.

"I'm fine, you look worse than me though"

"You draw?" Hobie doesn't acknowledge your last comment. He tries to take a peek at the pages, you clamp the book shut with lightning speed.

"I'm not showing you my sketchbook"

"Why not?"

"It's private! And I don't know you"

"Well, name's Hobie Brown" he extends his hand towards you "and you areee? Then you tell me your name, That's how this usually goes"

You narrow your eyes, "I know who you are" slapping his hand away but you tell him your name anyway, trying to be the polite one "Y/N, it's Y/N Y/L/N"

"Now we know each other, now can I?" His hand hovers over your notebook. "Damn, this looks like it's been trampled"

"Fucking Terrence" you seethe, sliding the book over to him. "Here"

"Fucking Terrence" Hobie smiles as he flips through your sketches.

—

Your mind goes back to the present when your familiar mug lands on your messy table, the content sloshes a bit to the sides.

"Careful!" You hold the mug, stopping its motion.

"Shit, sorry. You looked like Gromit there for a second" he chuckles, sitting down on your bed, a piece of biscuit in his mouth, the springs squeaking under his weight.

"Augh, you trying to bring back that nickname?" You take a sip, the warmth of the tea relaxes the aching muscles of your hand.

"It's always been there, Gromit" he lays down, swallowing the cookie, his chucks still on his feet.

You stand up immediately, cringing when his soles graze your bedsheets, grabbing his shoes off your bed "shoes off!" You struggle as Hobie watches on with a smirk "fuckin' take it off!"

"You're mad mad" he sits up, unlacing his shoes.

You put your hands on your hips, socked feet tapping impatiently. Hobie flings his shoes off, looking smugly at your annoyed face. He lays down, arms behind his head.

You narrow your eyes at him "awwe, are you tired?" You asked sarcastically.

"Yes, talking to you the entire day is tiring"

"You're not the one designing this thing" you gesture towards your table that's littered with crumpled papers, various designs pinned on your corkboard. Your hand cramps at the thought of drawing another line.

"Giving my opinion is tiring, why don't you rest for a bit, you're obviously knackered" he taps the space beside him. It wouldn't be the first time you've shared a bed, it's impossible that you haven't, being that you've been best friends for ten years. But you're still unsure, knowing that when you lie down (especially next to him) you won't get back to work again. But it doesn't mean that your heart doesn't skip a beat whenever you do share a bed, it practically stops in your chest until you two wake up.

Hobie sees your dilemma, knowing you wouldn't be able to work on your designs if you lie down next to him. "Come sit down at least" he finds a middle ground.

You sigh, surrendering, as long as you don't rest your head on your pillow you'll be fine, right? Sitting down, Hobie's legs props you up, preventing you from laying down completely.

You hum, leaning your entire weight over his legs, you can feel the rough material of his jeans on your back, your jumper doesn't provide much barrier from his warmth.

"Don't fall asleep" Hobie pokes your arm.

"Hard to when your bony legs are stabbing my back"

He moves his legs back, you fall halfway, head almost landing on his knees. You smack his arm playfully. Hobie predicts that you'll slap his chest next, he moves his arm shield himself. Lo and behold, that's where you hit him next.

"Fuck you, Wallace" despite your swearing, you grin widely, Hobie laughs at his old nickname, he keeps dodging your attacks, Hobie parries your hand, stopping it mid air. He holds your wrists in front of him, warm fingers wrap bracelets around them.

He laughs victoriously "who you callin' Wallace? Do I look like I'm bald?"

You try to get his grip off your wrist, pulling, but his grip is too strong–it doesn't hurt, it's the opposite actually, his grip on you provides comfort and stability. A laugh escapes you "you smile like him" he says it with you, copying your voice mockingly, already knowing that you'll say those exact words.

You roll your eyes, trying and failing to take your hands back, Hobie pulls you in, making you lean over his chest, your heart immediately jumping at the close proximity of his face from yours. Hobie didn't think this through enough, now he doesn't know what to do next. You both pause on your play fighting.

He watches your reaction, your lips slightly parted, pupils blown out. You do the same, cataloging every line on his face, eyes finding the familiar color of his iris, the late afternoon sun gleaming on his lip piercing. You quickly move your eyes back to his, realizing you've been staring at his lips, you swallow down your fear. You lay on top of him, frozen.

You exhale, breath fanning his face, your pulse thumping hard against Hobie's hand. He loosens his grip on your wrists, giving you time to pull away, but you don't so he slides his hands from your wrists over to your hands, fingers stopping at your clammy palms.

Hobie raises his head slowly to meet yours, his heart uncharacteristically beating hard on his chest. He realizes that his heart only acts this way around you. He can feel the dam straining against the overflowing water.

Knock

The sound breaks you both out of your daze, pushing away from each other, you avoid Hobie's gaze. While he looks at you longingly, chest heaving at what almost transpired.

Knock

You try to act nonchalantly, clearing your throat "yeah?"

"It's almost six! Get your visitor out" the dorm's RA yells out like a warden.

"Yeah, okay!" You give her a thumbs up, as if she can see you through the door. Hobie notices your awkwardness, taking it upon himself to break the awkward feeling.

"She doesn't have x-ray vision" He stops himself from touching your arm, hand landing back to his side.

You scoff, heat slowly leaving your cheeks "c'mon time to go home" you stand up, refraining from tapping his chest.

"We're not done yet" he sits up by his elbows, eyes following you gathering his stuff like a one night stand trying to get him out of your place.

You sigh "I don't think we can finish this today, Hobs" you say defeatedly "I mean look" you take a pinned sketch, showing it to Hobie. You both act like nothing happened, used to the almosts.

He looks at your sketch of him, drawn like a runway model, your design looks good, for him at least. Already sure whatever you make for him will be amazing. But judging from your pout he guesses it's not good enough for you.

"It looks good" he reassures you, "what's wrong with it?"

You drop his shoes back on the floor, stepping over it to sit back down on the bed. You hold the paper gingerly, noting every single line you've drawn. "There's something missing, it– I don't know" you groan.

"Make me understand then, they all look good enough for me" he gestures at your designs on the corkboard "I like the one with red on it"

"They all have a touch of red" you roll your eyes, "I don't know, they just– they have more Hobie in them, than of me y'know?"

He nods "yeah, I can see it, you need more bits of you in it"

"Mm-hmm, it's supposed to be a perfect blend of us both" you cross the barrier that you've put up between him, leaning your head on his chest.

"Yeah, it's like if we had a kid and they ended up lookin' like a clone of me" he looks at you teasingly, a smirk curling on his lips.

"Again, weird analogy, Hobs" you huff out.

He chuckles "D'you wanna rest or continue this at my place?" Hobie covers the top of your head with his palm, blanketing your scalp in his warmth.

Thinking for a second, you want to rest, but on the other hand, you need to keep working, you never know when both of your schedules will clear up, this is one of those rare times.

The loud knock echoes again, "your place, then" you look at him, cheek laying on his chest, hearing how his heart beats against your ear.

Hobie smiles, more than happy to spend more time with you.

—

You stop by a convenience store on the way to his place. The harsh white lights make you squint until your eyes adjust. Hobie grabs a basket, handing it to you.

"Such a gentleman" sarcasm dripping on your lips.

He walks backwards, winking at you, hands in his jean pockets. Hobie beelines for the frozen aisle, his chucks sliding against the tiled floor.

You sigh, already knowing what he'll grab. You take a couple of crisps, Hobie's favourite and yours. You bend down to grab a packet of biscuits, hearing a tinkling sound on your left, your eyebrows knit in confusion at the peeking green sock puppet.

"Hello there" You ask, thinking there's a kid playing around. You stand up, the small basket almost full.

"Hi" the puppet's mouth moves, but Hobie's voice comes out, you laugh at how he tried to hide his voice by making it higher pitched.

"Hobie, where'd you even get that?" You say in between airy laughs. You can't see where he is, Hobie's body is hidden behind a display of oatmeal, but you can clearly see his metal bracelet peeking out from under the puppet.

"Name's not Hobie, it's y/n, and I have a passion for fashion" the puppet's mouth moves dramatically as Hobie speaks.

You giggle at his antics, grabbing the puppet by its 'throat' "ack!" Hobie acts like he's choking. He moves in your line of sight, still making choking noises. The cashier looks at you weirdly, releasing your hand from the puppet.

You keep laughing, Hobie's smiles victoriously, getting the desired reaction from you. You clutch your hand over your stomach, heaving from laughing.

"You done?" Hobie is still speaking through the puppet, his throat aching from making his voice higher.

"Yep, you can stop making that voice" you smile, playing with the little bell strapped on the puppet, it rings softly at your touch.

"Thank fuck," Hobie clears his throat, speaking in his normal deep voice "they're selling these over there" he points to his right, using the puppet to point at it.

You see the bright display of different sock puppets, the bold letters reading 'all proceeds go to the children's hospital'

"It's cute, what even is it?"

Hobie moves the puppet from side to side, little yellow spikes on its head, a long tongue lolling on the side of its mouth. "I think it's supposed to be a dinosaur"

"Looks like it, but its tongue is too long to be a dinosaur, maybe it's a lizard?" You look at Hobie questioningly.

"Don't look at me, I don't know either" he shrugs.

"Whatever it is let's take it, he's kind of adorable, in a weird looking way" you take it from his hand, putting it inside your basket.

"Just like you" Hobie quips.

"Funny" you poke his chest. "You got the frozen pizza?"

"Nah, got distracted" Hobie walks towards the freezers, you follow closely behind, he flings the door open. You peek under his raised arm resting on the freezer door, looking at your choices.

"Four cheeses? Or overload?" You ask.

"You want me to shit myself?"

You giggle "right, lactose intolerant, forgot for a sec, overload it is. Thought you have lactaid?"

Hobie takes the frozen pizza box, bringing it to your cheeks, you jump away when the cold box hits your skin. "I ran out of it"

"Ass" you scoff, wiping away the condensation.

He laughs from his belly, putting the box inside the basket. Hobie grabs the heavy basket from you, happily giving it to him. He makes his way towards the cashier, you quickly grab a couple of canned soda from the freezer, catching up to Hobie.

The cashier gives you an annoyed look, probably because of the noises you two made. You look at him apologetically as he scans the items.

—

You arrive at his place, slightly shivering from the cold air that pricked you while in the back of Hobie's motorcycle. He gets off first, helping you with a steady hand.

"Remind me to bring a proper jacket next time we ride this late. Christ alive it's bloody freezing" you rub your arms, trying to get warm, your thin jacket isn't helping much to shield you from the cold.

Hobie takes off his leather jacket despite being only a few feet away from his place, he drapes it on you since your hands are full with the plastic bag of food. He holds your hands together breathing hot air into it, your heart swells at the small act.

"Why didn't you tell me you were cold? I could've stopped for a bit and handed you my jacket, you idiot" he grumbles out, still rubbing your hands warm.

"It was a short ride, Hobs. Besides we're here already you don't need to do this"

"Inside isn't any better, radiator's fucked since yesterday" he brings your hands to his mouth, blowing more warm air into your cold hands.

"Just my luck" your breathing stutters in your throat when Hobie looks at you through his lashes, lips dangerously close to your hands. "Let's just go inside, I'm hungry" you pull your hands away, already missing his warmth. Hobie looks at you like you grew a second head.

"Oven still works, right?" You clear your throat.

Hobie takes out his keys, opening the door for you "yeah, gas still works" he sniffs, the cold finally bothering him.

Entering the small house, you can hear the loud sound of the television, bright against the darkness of the modest living room. Ned and James play couch co-op of golden eye. James sees you standing awkwardly by the doorway, not paying attention to the screen, his character dies, making Ned annoyed.

"Come on, bruv! We can't pass this level with you dying every bloody minute" Ned follows James' stare, ending with you standing stiffly in front of the door, too awkward to walk in front of the telly, not wanting to disturb them. Hobie's behind you fumbling with the lock.

"Hi, sorry to drop in" you smile shyly.

Ned slaps the back of James' head "really? You got distracted?" He whisper-shouts, James jumps slightly in his seat, Ned quickly moves his neck to look at you, "It's alright, y/n! Make yourself at home"

"Thanks" you say, smiling sweetly.

"Oi, it's rude to stare" Hobie finally locks the rusty bolt, eyes staring at James.

" 'm not," he defends himself, thick Manchester accent rearing its head. "I was lookin' at the bag, is that pizza?" He acts interested in the contents of your bag.

Hobie side eyes Ned, having a non verbal conversation with him.

"I think there's enough for us four, where's Yuri? I still haven't thanked her for her help" you say.

"She's with her friends," Ned says.

Nodding, you walk towards the kitchen, Hobie not too far behind. "Have you talked to the landlord about the broken radiator, Hobs?"

"Don't need to, we're moving out anyway" Hobie replies nonchalantly, like it's old news to you.

"What?" You drop the plastic bag a little too hard on the counter. "What do you mean you're moving out? Where are you moving?" Fear creeps up to you.

"All of us are moving, actually" James pipes up from the couch, Ned elbows for him to shut up.

Hobie grabs a flyer from the fridge door, showing it to you. "Battle of the bands, our last show before we disband"

"You're gonna disband too?!" You look at Ned sitting on the couch, watching the interaction unfold. He replies for Hobie, seeing he might need some help explaining it to you.

"Sorry y/n, it's true. James and Yuri are off to uni, and I'm moving back to Richmond"

You look at Hobie sadly, knowing he'll be left behind by one of his oldest friends. You're well aware that Hobie doesn't like sticking to one band, moving on to a different team every few years, this doesn't surprise you, but Ned has been one of the few constants in his band, always his chosen bassist, and his oldest friend next to you.

Ned and James start their game again, giving you as much privacy as the small space can provide, trying to not listen to your obvious private conversation, they wish you two could just talk it out inside Hobie's room instead. Or better yet, just kiss about it, saving you both the energy.

Looking up at Hobie, eyes slightly watering at the thought of him being left behind, you'd never even thought of doing that to him. Of course you know he can handle himself, but you can't bear imagining him alone. Or maybe it's because you can't imagine going through life without him, turning out he'll be fine on his own without you. And you're the one who's projecting your fears towards Hobie.

Your lives have been intertwined since childhood, celebrating wins together, laughing and crying at the good and bad. You've been through almost everything together, it's hard to imagine your life before you met him, more so after your lives untangle from each other.

"When's the last gig?" You try to not let your emotions get to you, but your smile doesn't reach your eyes. Hobie sees through your charade, he holds your hand subtly, thumb rubbing circles over your palm.

"It'll be fine, love" I'll be fine, he wanted to say, but he swallows it down, tossing it over to the pile of all the unsaid words he wanted to say to you. "We've been planning it for awhile, just need to find a place and I'm good to go"

"You haven't found a place yet?" completely forgetting there are other people in the room with you, melting into his touch.

"Not yet, y'know me, always putting things off" he tangles his fingers through yours. "Once we win, I'll get enough to rent a place"

"I'll help you find a place" you squeeze his hand, he squeezes back three times.

"You givin' it for free? No need for me to punch out a hole in our card?" He teases you.

You roll your eyes "Don't push it, Hobart. But yes, you don't need to use our card for it" you joke, you would've helped him anyways, card or no card.

"Good, thanks Gromit" he smiles, reluctantly untangling your fingers from his. Hobie hands you the flyer, moving towards the counter to take out the food. With that your previous conversation ends, but your sadness and anxiety for what the future holds still lingers. Everything seems to change too fast, you don't think you're ready for any of it.

You smile softly at the nickname. Reading the contents of the advert– Battle of the bands at Oscorp Museum! your eyes widening when you gloss over the date on it. "Hobie, this concert is happening the day before our show"

"And? It's not on the same day" he takes out the puppet from the plastic.

"Yeah, but won't you be too..tired?" You ask.

Hobie huffs, taking the puppet off the counter, slipping it on your hand, you raise a brow at him "say what you really mean by 'tired' use the puppet to help" he crosses his arms over his chest.

You narrow your eyes, playing along, raising your arm halfway. You speak through the puppet, trying to talk with your mouth closed "won't you be too hungover?"

"There we go!" He claps "Thank you, y/n for the honesty"

"That wasn't me, that was the puppet"

"We have a real ventriloquist here, huh" Hobie takes out the frozen pizza from the box, slipping it inside the oven, he shuts the oven door closed "There won't be any alcohol in the venue, there's nothing to fucking drink"

"Sure" you say, still speaking through the puppet, rolling its head with your hand movements.

James whispers to Ned "they were all sweet to each other a second ago, now they're fighting"

"Reminds you of your parents huh?" Ned whispers back.

"Actually yeah, good eye"

Ned looks at him confused "not a compliment, bruv"

"Huh?"

"Nothin' what's up with the creepy puppet?"

Meanwhile, you continue to bicker with Hobie, the cold not helping with your attitude "You know I'm thinking of naming him Terrence, he looks like a Terry, right?" You make the puppet look at you, making it nod.

"Fuck off, after that Terry?"

"Yeah, we can tell exactly what we mean through Terry then we can both put the blame on him" you make the puppet nervously look at both of you.

"Fuckin' Terrence" Hobie remembers the bully.

"Exactly! Fuckin' Terrence" you both laugh, you don't even remember why you were fighting in the first place.

A/N: Thank you for reading! As always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*

[lolitakirstein]

Hey Neighbor pt 6

Part 6

[Previous part]

a/n: Sorry this kind ends abruptly but the word count was getting high so I figured i'd split it up. it doesn't really move the story alone, but I had fun writing this part.

wc: ~1.1k

tags: @better-imagination-9

The sun slants through the curtains that normally you would have drawn. But as the piercing light stabs your retinas, the events of last night slowly come back to you. Albeit in bits and pieces. A drink, or two, maybe four? Walking. Ok, stumbling. Being on the ground, looking up at Toji. FUCK. You sit up and the sudden movement sends the room spinning. Toji saw me, drunk, on the ground.

That thought quickly unlocks more from last night: Toji carrying you to bed. You throw the blanket off, groaning both from the tilting of the room and your growing embarrassment.

Once dispensing a gracious amount of cat food to Mewsy as an apology for not feeding her the previous night, you sit at your kitchen table. Still trying to piece together the events of last night. Had you said anything stupid? Made more of a fool of yourself than what you think you already did? And more importantly, how do you ever face him again?

Ok, time for damage control. Let's see, he saw me drunk. That wouldn't have been a big deal if he hadn’t also witnessed me rolling on the sidewalk like some kind of cat in heat and then carrying me like a child. Ok, the logical thing to do is to apologize. He saw me acting immature, so I’ll show him that I can be mature and own up to my mistakes.

After quick shower and a dusting of makeup to cover your dark circles, you check your reflection one more time in the hallway mirror and you open the front door. Before nerves can get the best of you, you stride next door.

You knock three times and pray that no one is home. I’ll count to five and if he doesn't answer I’ll—

The deadbolt clicks and the door swings open, revealing Toji in low-slung jeans and once again no shirt. His skin gleams with a thin layer of sweat. Smears of oil and dust coat his hands. His hair sticks to his sweaty brow and, once again your stomach clenches with a delicious warmth. Something about being around this man instantly kicks your body into overdrive. As if it’s in a perpetual state of ovulation when he’s near.

“Hey neighbor,” Toji greets you as he grabs a rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands. The act is arousing. The thought of him working with his hands. Instead of working in his garage—which he had clearly been doing—you imagine what those hands you do to you. Would they be gentle? Or rough? Or would he alternate between soft touches and choking—-no, no, focus.

“Hey,” you clear your throat. “Is this a bad time?” Please let it be a bad time.

“Not at all,” he opens the door more. “C’mon in.” You step around him, trying not to brush against him.

“Hi y/n!” Megumi shouts as he runs down the hall towards you.His arms outstretched. The excited voice, normally adorable, pierces right into your skull causing you to grimace accidentally.

Megumi stops short, his arms falling to his side. “What’s wrong y/n.”

“Nothing, I’m just–”

“Y/n was out way past her bedtime son,” Toji interrupts behind you. He slams the door, hard. Another jolt of pain shoots inside your head. “Let's give her a round of applause for being able to stand upright today.”

Toji starts clapping his hands, Megumi following suit, jumping in place. More pain crackles behind your eyes. Asshole.

“I’m going to go,” you murmur, turning back, intending to run out the door. Toji's leaned against it, however, his arms crossed and a satisfied look on his face. You’re blocked.

“Nonsense, we were just about to have lunch. Join us,” he coos, cupping and squeezing your face briefly before sauntering into the kitchen. You stare daggers at his bare back. Megumi grabs your hand pulling you to trail his father. “C’mon, y/n”

In the kitchen,Megumi climbs into a seat as Toji places a sandwich and some baby carrots in front of him. You remain standing, feeling out of place. Toji must notice because he pulls out a chair and gestures, albeit a bit dramatically. You roll your eyes before taking a seat.

“Here.” Toji places a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water in front of you. Your head spins from the thoughtful gesture, or it could just be the hangover. Nevertheless, a blush creeps into your cheeks.

“Are you sick,” Megs asks between bites of his sandwich.

“I—”

“Y/N was a bit of a party animal last night, fell down and dad had to carry her home,” Toji quips, pulling up a chair beside you with a sandwich of his own. HIs long legs stretched out. You whip your head towards him, intent on glaring him in the eye. You're then reminded that he is, still, shirtless. Your eyes betray you, drifting to his bare chest. Quickly you look away, focusing on pills and water.

“Isn’t that right, y/n” Toji presses. He's taunting you, wanting a reaction. Be mature be mature be mature. He nudges you with his leg. “Hmm??”

Taking a deep breath and gathering yourself, you look at Megumi. “Yes, I did have too much fun last night so I am a bit sick. And your father being shirtless and sweaty isn’t helping me feel any better.” So much for being mature.

Megumi giggles. Toji leans forward and places his forearms against the table. “Doesn’t seem to make you ill when you’re looking out your window at me,” he pretends to whisper, sending megumi into another fit of giggles

Shit! Did he know that you watched him? Now you look like a total creep. Fuck.

You try to think of something witty to say, but come up empty and embarrassed.

“Yeah didn’t think I would notice ya, staring out the window while i’m working out huh,” he prods.

“Can we talk?” you snap before he can say anything else humiliating.

“We are talking,” he gestures between the two of you.

“Alone,” you say softly, not wanting to hurt megumi’s feelings, excluding him.

After a few seconds of staring each other down, he finally yields. “Megs. take the rest of your lunch into the living room, Ok?”

Hanging his head, Megumi gathers the remainder of his meal and sulks out of the room.

“What?” Toji snarls.

“You always avoid adult conversations by using your child as a buffer,” you spit. Toji rolls his eyes, leaning back against the chair.

“Floors all yours, darling,” he gestures dramatically. “Let’s have an adult conversation.”

“First can you put on a shirt?” you ask

“Are you distracted?” he banters, a coy smile on his lips

You don’t take the bait. Instead scowl at him.

His smile falls as he sees you aren’t going to play his game. “Fine,” he grumbles, standing up and walking upstairs.

Now alone, you try to even remember why you came over here in the first place.

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Mall Of Magic

masterlist

pairing: anakin skywalker x female reader

warnings: cursing, fluff, humor, kissing

summary: you and your boyfriend anakin were sent on a mission that took place on earth and the two of you decide to go to a mall

a/n: i am so in love with this man its unhealthy

song: borderline - tame impala

"Woahh, Ani do you see this," you say as you step onto moving stairs. "It's magic!"

"Let me try," he says as you go higher up. He cautiously takes a step onto the magic step. He puts his other foot on and grins.

"We should get this for home when I'm too tired to walk up the stairs," you suggest.

You both go down the one that slides lower, when you come up with an idea.

"What do you think happens if we go up the down one?"

"I'm not sure," he ponders for a moment, "but I want to try," he says with a giddy smile.

You start walking on it and notice it didn't change directions. "Whoever gets to the top first wins," you say starting to run up. You and Anakin race up and you just made it to the top when you hear a yelp.

You turn and notice Ani bumping into people. "Sorry! Sorry, excuse me!"

A minute later, a panting Anakin makes it to your laughing self. "Not funny," he huffs. "I almost fell down"

You both then walked to another store you saw. There was glass blocking the enterence though.

As Anakin stepped to knock on the glass, it suddenly opened making you both gasp. He turns his head to you, "I didn't know the Force was here," he says confused.

You pull him back and watch the door close. You push him forward again and the glass slides open.

"Wow, Ani! It likes you," you wink.

He rolls his eyes, "who wouldn't," you slap the back of his head at his cockiness.

You drag him inside as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You walk through the store with food. You come across an isle called Baking Supplies.

"What do you think this is for?" you ask him, holding up a bag with 'flour' written on it.

"Maybe they put it in the food. We should take it with us," he replies.

"Okay, we could ask Obi-Wan about it when we get back home. Do you think it will open in the ship?"

"Let's test it," he says before dropping the bag. You watch it drop and break open as powder flies everywhere and covers you both. The two of you start coughing and wave your hands in front of you.

"Good job, Ani. Look what mess you've made," you said placing a hand on your his and wiping powder off your eyes.

"It's not my fault it's bad quality," he mumbles. You dust the two of you off the best that you could manage.

"Let's go somewhere else," you say.

"HAH!" you should as you shoot Anakin.

"No! That's not fair!"

"You lost and I won fair and square, so hush," you smirk.

"You cheated," he whines, "I wasn't ready"

"You are so adorable when you are a sore loser, my love," you boop his nose.

You two had come across a place called "Laser Tag", and Anakin dragged you in after seeing the cool lights.

You and him eliminated all the other players due to your fighting experience, you snuck up on Anakin and shot him in the back.

"This game isn't fun anymore," he pouts. You kiss his lips quick before you pull him along with you to find something else to do.

As you were walking through the mall, you saw people sitting and looking at a little box - that's what it looked like.

You glance at Anakin whose arm was around your shoulder, "what do you think those are?"

He looks to what your staring at, "I don't know, why don't you go and ask?"

"Okay, I'll be back in a minute," you say stepping away from him and towards some people who seem around your age.

"Excuse me," you say grabbing their attention. "Me and my boyfriend," you start and point your finger at him, "were wondering that thing in your hand is," you finish.

They just stare at you like you have two heads. "You mean... a phone?"

"A phone?" you repeat.

"Yeah...?"

"Well what does it do?"

"I- uh- it allows you to communicate with people, and you can do pretty much anything on it," one person explains.

"How fascinating! Can you really do anything on that little box?"

"Phone," a girl corrects, "and not everything," she tells you.

"Let me get my boyfriend, and then can you show us some stuff?" you question the boy next to you.

"Uh- yeah sure," you smile at him and drag Anakin towards the boy. He then spends about twenty minutes showing you and Anakin some things on the magic cube.

You thank them and head somewhere else.

"My brain hurts," Anakin says, dramatically holding his head. You and him were very confused from the 'phone'. It was too complicated for you both.

"Mine too," you pat his back.

Anakin saw a big plant and pulled you behind it with him.

"We should scare people, we could jump out when they walk by," he grins at you.

"Great idea," you high five him.

You two scared at least 15 people until you saw a person wearing a 'security' outfit running towards you both.

He almost grabbed Anakin's collar but you were faster.

You quickly grab Ani's hand and pull him as you start running. Both of your laughs fill the mall hallways as you run away. You both turn back just in time to see the man slip on something.

You both burst out laughing again as you sneak away.

You turn and lean your back against a wall, the two of you catching your breath.

"Th- that was s- so amazing," he gets out between pants and laughs.

You enter a clothing shop with some items for cold weather. You throw a bunch of scarfs on you both as you giggle and dance with Anakin in your silly outfits to the music that was playing.

You throw a hat on him and bow down at him. "You look dashing," you say.

"Why thank you, my lady. You don't look bad yourself," he obnoxiously winks at you.

"I have to agree with you on that, Skywalker," you blow him a kiss in the mirror you two were looking at yourselves in.

Ignoring the weird looks you got from people around you, you both continue to do some fun poses in the mirror.

You two accidentally walked into a store with some interesting pieces of clothing, specifically ones that go under your clothes.

You look at Anakin as he turns red.

He has seen you without clothes plenty of times, which made how embarrassed he was funny.

"I- uh- um- next place," he stutters over his words as you laugh and wrap your arm around his waist.

You were getting ready to leave when you and him see people walk in into a small cube room, you see the doors shut and wonder what it was.

"Ani lets go to that before we leave," you smile up at him.

"Do we push the button?" he asks staring at the two buttons on the wall.

"I guess so," you shrug pushing the bottom one.

The doors open and you step inside with him as they shut.

"Where do you think this takes us," he wonders aloud.

"I'm not sure, guess it's a surprise," you grin.

A few moments later the doors open, you notice it's by the entrance you came in through.

"Oh! It's like another type of stair, Ani," you realize.

"I suppose it is... I got to say I am a bit disappointed, I though it would take us somewhere cool," he sighs. You nod your head and the two of you leave to go back to where you were staying. You would be coming back here soon.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

anything but worthy [pt.1]

This is reposted from my ao3!

[Arthur Morgan SFW] tags: omegaverse

Once upon a time, someone told Arthur that he was a good man. Yet right now, he felt he was anything but.

Because–

Lavender. Honey. Vanilla syrup on a cold, cold day.

You were once the newest addition to the gang, brought in right alongside Sadie – a family friend you happened to visit the day the O'Driscolls came around. Together, you hid in the cellar, the constant howling wind your saving grace, especially since you were an omega whose mere presence could drive alphas mad.

The day they came was an unfortunate one, and while Sadie's inner alpha called on her to protect both you and her husband, there were just too many of the damn rats to fend off. Hence retreating underground, hence curling up together for warmth. She smelled of cinders and sawdust, and for a while, it was enough, but had you stayed much longer, you two would have surely frozen to death.

And then someone new arrived.

Three "someones," really. There new alphas – to be exact, but your focus landed on just one. It was a miracle that Sadie had managed to survive the mere stress of her dead husband – her mate – but the scent of natural competition had heightened her senses once more. So she led the way out of the cellar, blade in hand, steps slow and cautious while a snarl rumbled low in her throat.

What followed after wasn't so pleasant, but soon enough, you were wrapped in linen – lifted onto horseback and embraced in the arms of a brown-haired stranger. The haze of hunger and cold, the lull of steady hoofbeats, paired with the comfort of something safe – of someone safe – of an alpha – was all it took to cradle you to sleep. Yes, a sleep where you dreamed off–

Leather. Whiskey. The smell of dust after rain.

They said you could stay until you figured out where to go, but that scent was one you couldn't bear to leave. And Arthur Morgan could say the same thing about you.

Since that day in the West Grizzlies, there was just something about you, and he couldn't put his finger on it. Because sure, he'd been heartbroken before – he'd chased after Mary, he'd made himself a fool, but you – yes, you – you were something different.

He wouldn't call it love at first sight. Hell, he told himself, he hardly knew a thing about love. If anything, he knew what love wasn't, at least sort of – and surely, the complexity of what he felt couldn't be defined so simply. You see, for example, was it love when he wanted to hold you? Maybe. Was it love when he wanted to wipe your tears? Maybe. Now, was it love when he wanted to have you – on your back in his bed, skin red and lightly bruised, while he gripped your wrists so tight, a little more, and they would break?

About that – most certainly, no.

But goddamn if he didn't hate it – no, love it – when sometimes, you'd act all cute and lovely, look up at him with those big doe eyes, and smile without knowing how he thought of you each night. There was an inherent need to protect you, to keep your smiles innocent, yet the simultaneous dark craving that tempted him to make you cry. He'd sweep you up in his arms, he fantasized, then carry you to his tent – where he'd lay you down so gently, yank you by the ankle as he undid his pants, hoping to see you scramble away then give in when you realize it was hopeless.

Again, he'd remind himself – those thoughts were all fantasy. Scenarios he'd work out in his head when the sun had settled, or whenever he had some privacy out in the woods or away from camp. He'd never actually act on it – no, he was too good for that. But those thoughts made him question if he was really good at all, or if he was teetering towards the edge – putting up a facade out of sheer strong will and not really because he was any sort of moral man. Because moral as he may be, as loyal to a code as he may be, beneath all that humanity was still the devouring instinct of a beast.

Alpha, alpha, alpha – longing for an omega, omega, omega. Oh–

Lavender. Honey. Vanilla syrup on a cold, cold day.

He wondered if you tasted just like you smelled, and if you'd let him take a bite of your neck–

"Arthur? Hey, Arthur?"

"Hm? Sorry, you say somethin'?"

"No, not really. Just worried – you've been staring at nothin' for the past, uh, fifteen minutes or so."

It's a hot summer Lemoyne evening, and you're down to your chemise, and his blue eyes can't help but skirt across the fine neckline. It's brief, but he notices the beads of sweat littering your skin – the way your collarbone disappears behind lace, and the way his mind tugs at his fingers to tug it down–

But he clears his throat and looks away, refusing to face you as you lean over, standing right beside him. "It's this damn heat. Can't even think straight–" he excuses with a gruff tone. It's not entirely a lie.

You purse your lips but seem to accept his answer – you've been oblivious so far, he knows, and he legitimately wonders how the hell when all he's done lately is edge towards being a fool. Or even a fucking creep– 

"Well, um, maybe you shouldn't– uh– sit so close to the fire then," you eventually add, offering him a sheepish smile.

It's true, Arthur realizes, that he's been so lost in thought – so lost, in fact, that he's damn near roasting his face in the flames. The campfire is less than a foot away from him, and he's been wearing a jacket this whole time. He didn't even think to peel off the extra layer, too muddled in pheromones or hormones or whatever. After all, he'd decided, you were meant for cold days. Fantasies of you, he decided, should be reserved for cold days.  But you were vanilla syrup, sickeningly sweet in the heat of summer. And heat– heat– when was yours again?

He shuffled back a few inches, so he's not about to be set on fire, but it does little to calm his soul when he's already so riled up inside. The way your brow furrows, the way your lips pout – if he focused on you any longer, on the fact that he could oh-so-easily grab you by the hips, Arthur would have to set a blanket or a pillow on his lap. And that alone, in this damn heat, would raise so many questions that he would hate to answer.

But he doesn’t have to grab you by the hips – you seat yourself next to him, and the proximity alone makes him want to curse. This camp was no place for you – this gang no place for you – and he was certainly not going to be a good man for you if your oblivious actions kept him latched on like a pike. Oh – but he wanted you safe and comfortable – and begging and screaming – and perfect and soft – and clothes torn apart. He wanted you splayed out before him, marks on your thighs – wet and needy and raw and ready for–

– him. 

Arthur covered his lower face with a hand, as if to scratch his beard, though it's really to bite down a curse. He wanted you, like a sacrifice – to have and hold – and hold down. So many mixed feelings, when you're a predator who loves their prey.

“Dunno why Pearson thought it would be a good idea to make stew again, in this heat. Maybe we could make jerky instead. Those don’t need to be hot to eat,” you comment, poking around the fire with a stick, moving about the logs so the flames last a little longer.

“If Pearson actually cared about what’s palatable, he wouldn’t be makin’ stew. Not again,” Arthur muttered in response, unable to help himself as he subconsciously leaned closer to you. The smoke was doing nothing to dull out your scent, but he wanted to cover it up with his own – with leather, and whiskey – and the smell of dust after rain.

“Oh! Speaking of food–” you whip back around to face him, and he reels back so he at least doesn’t look like a madman– “we need to go into town tomorrow. Miss Grimshaw said we’re running low on supplies.”

He plays his swerve off with a sarcastic grin – a guffaw. “Runnin’ low– I just went into town with Sadie. I ain’t forgettin’ that shoutout any time soon,” he huffs, slamming his hands down on his knees and shaking his head.

“Well– er–” you begin again, your lips forming a small pout, “I– I mean, I kinda need to go to a hotel or… preferably… a cabin… soon?”

His blue eyes examine your own for the truth, and though his jaw is clenched tight in suspicion, it soon loosens, his mouth agape.

You wanted?--

Oh.

A beat.

Oh, no–

“Darlin’, are you askin’ me to–”

You bring your hands up, waving them frantically in front of your face, a nervous laughter erupting from your throat.

“I– I mean–” you repeat once more, only to hide your face with both hands. “I-I’m sorry, Arthur. It’s just– I thought asking you outright would be weird, but it seems I’ve made things worse… And– and it’s not that I wanted you in the room or anything! I just thought it would be nice to be with you, and you’re always around to comfort me and help me with things, and– and I trust you to protect me, you know? You– you make me feel safe.”

“I am anythin’ but worthy of that honor, little girl.”

Your face falls, and your hands do, too. And you watch as he glares at the fire, features hardened once more. He sees it out of the corner of his eye – your expression – and his gut twists and turns, spurring guilt into his mind. You speak– again–

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I just thought it would be nice – me and you.”

He hears you suck in a deep breath as you get to your feet, ready to shuffle off to bed.

“I guess I’ll just ask Sadie or Miss Grimshaw to go with me again. Or maybe Karen, ‘cause she can handle a gun, too.”

Your voice grows quieter and quieter by the second, and that guilt of his builds up, inversely proportional to the sound. But as you move to step away, he opens his mouth once more.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, omega,” he explains, fingers curled in tight fists. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he repeats again. “That’s all.”

“Oh, Arthur–” you place a hand on his shoulder– “I’d be okay if it were you.”

[thisismysecondrodeo]

I'm reading every solo dad! fic i can find (like, ted and henry move over the pond together): would love to read your take on what happens when the boys are on an away game and you're home with the little lasso but then you wake up from a nightmare? i feel like the kid being like his father would make you fall even harder for your little family

AN: OMG this is such a sweet prompt, I’m an absolute sucker for Henry stories!  

Rating: General

Tags: Henry Lasso, Established Relationship, Stepmom!Reader, SoloDad!Ted, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Part 2 | Fic masterlist

You hadn’t expected to get addicted to the feeling of Ted Lasso sleeping next to you. Truthfully, you hadn’t expected to fall for the silly American at all, but now here you were deeply in love, married for two years, and suffering withdrawals any time he had to be elsewhere for even just a single night. 

It was silly, the way you woke up in the night with your heart racing, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, vague, shifty nightmares still tugging at the back of your mind, so you never told Ted about it. It wasn’t like he could do much, you certainly wouldn’t ask him to change his schedule and leave the team or invite yourself along on away matches (though sometimes he invited you himself, and you gladly took him up on it). You found other ways to cope: a girls night with Rebecca and Keeley if they weren’t at the match themselves, staying up all hours so you had no choice but to sleep like the dead, or pulling up YouTube videos of Ted’s interviews to watch when you’d woken up reaching for his empty space. 

It all worked well enough, and you hardly thought about the nightmares, even with Henry coming to live with you and Ted full-time, while Michelle went back to school. The Lasso boys were thrilled, and you’d gotten to spend some time with Henry over the past few years you and Ted had been together, so you were just as enthusiastic to have the sweet boy around. You knew Ted and Henry were a package deal, but Ted never made you feel like there was some stepmom test you needed to pass. Henry arrived over the summer to give him time to settle in before he had to figure out the British school system, which gave you and Ted plenty of time before football season to take him sightseeing and settle into a bit of a family rhythm. You made an off hand comment to Rebecca and Keeley one girls’ night about getting back to the boys, and they had teased you mercilessly, but hugged you tightly as you left. “Domesticity looks good on you,” Keeley had said to you with a sweet, sincere tone. 

So of course you were lulled into a false sense of security and when football season snuck up on you, you were wholly unprepared for Ted’s first away match. The night before the match you moved busily around the bedroom, oblivious to Ted’s watchful gaze. 

“Everything alright sweetheart,” he finally asked when you hovered close enough, wiping nonexistent dust from his nightstand. 

“Great, why?”

“You just seem a little,” Ted trailed off and you had already moved on to unfolding and refolding the clothes he was taking with him to Liverpool. “Unsettled. Here, come here.” Ted stood and led you back to the bed making you settle under the covers against his side. The warm lamp light made his eyes glow with concern and you sighed. 

“If it's about staying with Henry, we can figure something out. I can ask his friend’s parents for a sleepover or…”

“Oh, Ted no, you know I love spending time with Henry. I’m not worried about him at all.” 

“Well clearly somethin’s got ya more knotted up than an Auntie Anne’s pretzel. Do they have those here? Whoo, boy no trip to the mall is complete withou—” 

You laughed, cutting him off mid sentence, “I’m okay Ted. I promise. Thank you though. I think I’ve just gotten so used to having both my boys around I don’t know what to do myself with you gone.” 

Ted smiled, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, “I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, and by that time I’m sure you and Henry will have already formed an alliance against me.” 

“There have been discussions of unionizing for the right to order pizza once a week.” 

Ted laughed as he clicked off the lamp, sliding down the bed to hold you tightly in his arms, “Well we’ll just have to see about that.”

-

You were sipping coffee in the kitchen as the Lasso boys trooped down the stairs, Ted’s overnight bag slung over his shoulder. You gave them both hugs goodbye, told Henry you’d pick him up after school and let Ted reassure you that he’d be back as soon as he could tomorrow. 

“6 am if I can swing it,” he called out as he walked down the street, a hand on Henry’s backpack to keep him from crossing the road without him.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you yelled, before hearing a grumpy sounding banging next door. “Sorry Mrs. Shipley,” you grumbled. What a coincidence that you and Ted had bought a house together…and his upstairs neighbor Mrs. Shipley had moved in next door. 

The day flew by and before you knew it you were picking up Henry and making him dinner and watching whatever Spiderman movie was the newest and it was time for bed. Henry gave you a hug goodnight and retired to his room across the hall and you did the same, hoping that maybe having him there would reduce the aching loneliness that caused you nightmares whenever Ted wasn’t around. Instead you shot straight up from your sleep a few short hours later, sweating and upset, your chest heaving… and a small hand rubbing a circle on your back. 

“Henry?”

“I think you were having a bad dream. I heard you and you sounded upset.” You groaned and Henry slowly retracted his hand and stood up from where he’d been sitting. “Sorry for not knocking, I can—”

“No, it’s okay Henry,” you looked over at him, saw his worried expression that was just a mini version of Ted’s. “I’m just…embarrassed. Thank you for coming in. It was a bad dream, you’re right.” 

Henry still looked unsure so you patted the bed beside you and the two of you settled back against the headboard. “I get bad dreams sometimes too. You shouldn’t be embarrassed.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you do when you have a bad dream?”

“I go get my dad,” Henry says gleefully. “He always lets me stay with him, and he’ll tell me one of his long stories until I fall asleep.” 

“That sounds nice. I only get bad dreams when your dad isn’t here, but he doesn’t know that.” 

“I think you should tell Dad, he’d want to know. And help if he can,” Henry said, pausing in the middle of this sentence for a massive yawn. 

You smiled at Henry, who was struggling to hold his head up, “yeah you’re probably right, Henry. Thanks for checking on me, we should get some sleep.” 

“I could stay here with you…if you want?” Henry's voice was small, and you wondered if maybe he needed your comfort as much as he was offering his own. 

You slid down into the bed and held up the covers for Henry to join you. “I’d appreciate it, you got any stories?” 

You fell asleep to the sound of Henry telling you a story about a possum at his grandma’s…or maybe it was an armadillo? Whatever it was, it worked and you slept soundly until you woke up to the sound of Ted sitting his bag down and leaning against the bedroom door, a broad grin on his face. You looked over at the clock and it was barely 10 after 6 am, and you realized Henry was still tucked into your side with his back to you and, his face smushed into Ted’s pillow. You smiled as Ted changed into pajamas and slid into bed with the two of you, sandwiching Henry in the middle. 

“Bad dream,” he questioned quietly, talking to you over Henry’s bedhead.

“Yeah,” you said sleepily, “mine.” Ted’s brow furrowed, but you cut him off before he could express his concern. “But it turns out Henry knew exactly what to do for a nightmare. And I learned a lot about possums…I think.” 

Ted chuckled, obviously recognizing the story, “he’s a good kid.” 

“That he is,” you smiled, tucking the covers up over the three of you. “He’s got a great dad.” 

You fell back asleep to the rhythm of your boys' breathing and the thought of how lucky you were to have a lovely little family like this one. 

Part 2 ->

[outpost51]

Ayyyy playlist tag game!!!! Gimme a couple songs from #16 and #57 plz <3

~@tabswrites

ask me about my playlists

the stars we wander, the hands we're dealt is uhhhh the second? i think the second castis/avitus mix i've made for @thetrashbagswasteland, who is entirely to blame for this ship even existing. different than the first, this is aimed less at the hatefucking and more at the sad old men they've become, settled into something like domesticity, or as close to it as avitus can manage. neither particularly wants to admit (to themselves or anyone else) what they are, fearful that saying it out loud might make it real, might mean something more than "roommates out of necessity, benefits out of convenience." it means avitus having to confront that people might actually care if he dies, and that maybe... just maybe, he doesn't want to die in a blaze of glory. that maybe he might want to ride this thing out, see where it goes. that retiring from living hard and fast, that learning to be a person again and not just a tool or a weapon, that holding still might not be so bad after all. oops i. made myself emotional--

anyway here's some of my faves on this playlist (it's actually one of my favorites i've ever made):

the cattle by zach palmer [youtube]

longshot by catfish and the bottlemen [youtube]

bugfood by alissic [youtube]

the boy who cried wolf is actually the playlist for act i of stellar parallax! the songs are supposed to follow along with the chapters!

here's my faves and the passages they go with:

brutus by the buttress [youtube]

Jane knocked the wind from his lungs before he could draw another breath. Her eyes weren’t cold anymore. She fought like a hellcat. Like her life was on the line. How hard had it really been planetside? I have been starving and squatting in an abandoned building for the past three years.

Her fist connected with his jaw and the world went fuzzy. The ground defied gravity, rising to meet him with gusto. His shoulder screamed where it connected with the thin mat. John’s grin was lopsided as he wiped the blood from his mouth. He pitied the pirate that ever ended up in her sights. “Shit, Jane,” he chuffed. “You’re good.”

Jane didn’t return his smile. “No, John.” She spat his name over her shoulder like a curse. “I’m just better.”

where is my mind by safari riot (cover of the pixies) [youtube]

Jane was floating. 

Stiff-backed. Limbs dangling uselessly beside and below her like some invisible force had yanked her right off the ground by a string tied to her ribcage. Jaw wrenched open in a silent scream. And her eyes—

Rolled all the way back, as if whatever that beacon was wanted her to see what it was doing to her brain, forced her to see it. 

John lunged for her, but thick, armored arms wrapped around his trunk, the same ones that pushed him away from Jenkins. That let Arterius doom the poor kid’s family to a closed-casket funeral. We can’t risk it, Nihlus had said. Do you want him to become one of those things? Do you think you could put him down?  

But this time the Brawler was pointed at Jane, and Jane was still alive, she just needed help, she needed someone to knock her loose with a stick like the manuals all said to do with a person being electrocuted. John struggled harder against Nihlus, kicked, punched, spat, cursed — then went still as Jane’s head turned all the way around to face them. 

And shrieked. Not the scream he expected either, no, what came out of his sister was hundreds, thousands of voices screaming, sobbing, begging, praying all at once. Its volume grew and morphed into a bellow that seized hold of his mind and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed —

Jane dropped to the ground like a ragdoll, and he jolted awake in the Normandy’s medbay. 

into dust by mazzy star [youtube]

Saren had offered to help. There were two shovels, after all, and they were both biotic.

Jane grabbed one, then shut the shed. “I need to do this,” she muttered, and started digging.

Dark clouds rolled across the sky.

Once she’d broken through the grass, it wasn’t so bad; the ground was soft and the work was repetitive and Eden Prime was quiet, so quiet now that most of its population was gone.

“It’s going to rain,” Saren said, shortly before the first drop landed on Jane’s nose.

“The porch is covered,” she told him, and kept digging.

All at once, the sky opened up. Somewhere in the downpour, she could hear Saren swearing, dragging the cloth-wrapped body onto the covered porch. Jane took a deep breath.

Focused on digging.

Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Thud. Exhale.

She’d barely made progress before the first aches settled into her shoulders and back. It was 2183. She didn’t have to do this. Holes could be dug with machines, with lasers, with bots.

Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Thud. Exhale.

Machines, lasers, and bots had certainly made the body that would fill this one.

Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Thud. Exhale.

But so had her own negligence. All the bodies littering Eden Prime weighed down her shoulders, adding to the pain spreading down her arms and legs.

Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Thud. Exhale.

She didn’t have to do this, but she needed to.

The corporal didn't have any family left that would bury him. There wouldn't be a wake, a funeral, an awkward standing-around of relatives who could barely stand each other, picking at the potluck fare for however long seemed appropriate so their departure wouldn't look like an escape. He had no cousins, no uncles, no brothers, no father to carry his expensive wooden box to the hole a machine had dug. He had no friends left. Sandra couldn’t dig him a hole — didn’t need to, not after what she’d seen. John and Kaidan were several systems away.

Maybe you’ve got Anderson and your parents and the Smiths and the Harrises, some smaller, more vicious thing spat in her memory, but all I’m stuck with is you.

Jenkins just had Jane, pulling his dead weight over her back to transport him from the porch to his final resting place. The storm raged on, softened the ground even more. It sucked her into the muck with every step and caked onto her armor up to her knees. She lost her boots somewhere along the way.

Maybe she should have left Powell alive.

Saren had offered to help.

Maybe she should have accepted it.

I’m sorry , she’d mouthed seconds before machines dug a hole straight through the corporal. He might have accepted it, had he still been around to. She wouldn't forgive herself, though, even after all this.

It didn’t feel right to just dump him in, and the ground seemed to agree, crumbling beneath her feet and dumping her into the hole instead. There was a metaphor in there somewhere: lying in a grave she’d dug with her own hands, beneath the soldier who’d be alive if not for her.

She belonged there.

“We have work to do, Jane,” Saren reminded her.

He was right. Jane struggled out from under the corporal’s corpse, arranged him like a funeral home might, and made her ungraceful exit from the grave. She was more mud than Marine at that point, but there was work to do. She picked up her shovel.

Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Plap. Exhale.

She could mourn this man she’d barely known later, after she’d hunted down the bastard who sent his machines to Eden Prime.

Thunk. Swish. Inhale. Swish. Plap. Exhale.

Burying Jenkins was harder than digging the hole; it took seven attempts to convince herself that it was okay to throw dirt on his face — she was returning him to his mother, that was the reason that finally stuck. She was returning him to his mother, and he would help her garden grow.

When she was done, Saren sprayed her down with the half-rotted hosepipe he’d found coiled against the side of the prefab. It didn’t matter if she was wet, he told her, it was raining anyway. Water would dry. The blood on her hands wouldn’t, but the water would.

That was okay, too, he told her, albeit in much prettier words. He and his ship were both stained far deeper than anyone ever should be.

[stardustandash]

Through Darkness Unknown - The Bad Batch

Tags: Post s2, hurt/comfort, whump, medical procedures

Chapter 5 - And Then There Were Three

Omega finally let go of Tech and folded her hands together in her lap. She couldn’t just keep crying, not if Tech could be so strong. She remembered what he'd said in that cave, that sometimes they had to adapt and move on, that he processed moments differently. Maybe this was one of those ways, and her emotions were just keeping him locked in a moment. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to be strong. Like Tech.

First Chapter Previous Chapter AO3

Someone was speaking. Omega couldn’t make out the words but the tone was gentle, the cadence of the words rocking over her like the waves on Pabu’s shore. It was nice. She let herself drift along the rhythm of the words without hearing them. Then she felt something touch her hand, softly at first. It was damp and soft where it scrubbed at one hand, then the other. It touched her face next, wiping at the hollows under her eyes and down her cheeks. It felt nice. Grounding. Slowly Omega became aware that she was sitting against a cool metal wall. Her head was tilted back by a thin hand at the back of her head while her face was washed. She could smell the stale air that had become familiar over her time spent in a cell.

“We had all at this point forgotten about the rocket. It had rolled under Tech’s rack during our firefight with the vulture droids. It probably would’ve stayed there for a long time if it hadn’t already been primed.”

The words registered in Omega’s mind and she latched on to them. It reminded her of Echo telling her stories until they both fell asleep. Except this wasn’t Echo’s low steady voice. This was smoother, winding snakelike around the vowels.

“Crosshair?”

The cloth came away from her face. That was too bad, Omega had liked it. She wondered where it had gone. She opened her eyes, blinking at the brightness of the overheads. At first the world around her was fuzzy, then a dark shape to her right came into focus until she could see Crosshair kneeling on the floor beside her. There was a cloth in his hand and a look on his face she hadn’t seen before, not even when she told him about Tech.

“Kid? You with me?” asked Crosshair in a tone more gentle than anything she’d heard out of him yet.

Omega blinked at him. Where else would she be? Crosshair’s free hand moved from the back of her head to her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake.

“Come on, Omega. You’re freaking me out here.”

Omega’s eyes finally found Crosshair’s and she held onto that steady gaze as she tried to reel in her wandering mind. There was something there, something just out of reach that she needed to remember.

“There you are,” said Crosshair as he sat back and released Omega’s shoulder.

She could still feel the warmth of his hand through her top and wished it would come back. It had been so nice. Slowly she pushed herself away from the wall and crossed her legs. Even simply sitting more upright rocked Omega into herself a little more.

“Dank Farrik, what did they do to you?” asked Crosshair. He was starting to look a little more himself as Omega became more grounded. “They had you for nearly a full rotation.”

Omega rubbed at her arms and tried to think. She’d been in a lab. Dr. Hemlock had been there, so had Nala Se. The other clone, Dr. Karr, had been in the lab with her. Omega idly scratched at something along her hairline. Whatever it was came off under her nail and she brought it in front of her face. The substance was dark rusty brown and flaked into dust as she rubbed it between her fingers. Blood, dried, her mind supplied.

Omega felt the blood drain from her face as the last several hours caught up to her. She scrambled over Crosshair to the small walled off area that passed as a ‘fresher and promptly emptied what little was in her stomach. Everything from the last rotation came back to her in gruesome detail. The sounds, the smells, the feeling of being wrist-deep in her brother. Omega’s stomach wrung itself out again.

“Omega?” called Crosshair. “Kriff, did they poison you?”

Crosshair’s smoothed Omega’s bangs out of her face. She let herself lean into the touch. It was nice. She’d never been held while she was sick before.

“Look, are you about to bite it? You can give me thumbs up for yes, thumbs down for no,” said Crosshair, a flash of irritation cutting through.

Omega obliged with a thumbs down. She wasn’t going to die despite her stomach trying its best to exit her body through her esophagus. After a few more painful moments of dry heaving Omega wrestled her body under control and practically crawled out of the ‘fresher back to their small cot. Crosshair was eyeing her warily, as if she was about to do something else that would require him to step in and support her.

“You going to tell me what that was all about?” said Crosshair.

Omega swallowed past the sour taste in her mouth. “They had him this whole time.”

“Who? Hunter?” asked Crosshair. “You suspected they might have him, I don’t see why this is a shock.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, but he couldn’t mask the worry on his face.

“No. Not Hunter. They- I don’t know how that doctor even got his hands on him but- “

“Who do they have, Omega?” Crosshair cut her off to bring her back on track.

“Tech. They had Tech this whole time,” said Omega angrily. “They let me think he was dead, but they brough him here! I could see the needle marks in his arms. They kept him alive enough to do tests and then, and then…”

Omega had to stop to breathe before she worked herself up too much.

“And then what?” asked Crosshair, voice dangerously soft.

“And then they made me fix him. Hemlock said I was going to be given a gift for good behaviour, but I had to fix it first, and then he put me in a room and Tech was lying there all still and bloody. I did my best, I promise. I did my best,” Omega said, voice hitching.

“He’s alive?” asked Crosshair, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Omega nodded as she wiped the gathering tears out of her eyes. The motion was interrupted by two thin arms wrapping around her. A hug. She was being hugged. By Crosshair. Voluntarily. Without wasting a second Omega wrapped her arms around him and buried her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, until Omega felt herself slump with the exhaustion that could only come from feeling none then too many emotions. With the added weight Crosshair seemed to remember what he was doing and nearly dropped Omega’s head against the wall when he moved away.

“If he’s alive and you patched him up, where is he now?” asked Crosshair gruffly.

“Bacta tank. They let me put him in one after,” answered Omega, picking at the cuff of her sleeve. Though the fabric was black it was stiffened with dried blood. She hoped they would give her a change soon, or a chance to go through a sonic.

They lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The evening meal was brought and the bland nutri-mash consumed. It did not escape Omega’s notice that Crosshair positioned himself between her and the containment wall when the troopers brought the meal tray and when they picked it up.

When the lights overhead went out for the night cycle Omega tried to get comfortable in the little cot. No matter which way she lay it was uncomfortable and every time she closed her eyes she was back in the lab room with Tech. She rolled over, closed her eyes, tried again. Back in the room with Tech’s broken body under her hands. Omega opened her eyes, sighed, and shifted once more.

“Stop wiggling like a worm and go to sleep,” said Crosshair through the dark.

“I can’t,” murmured Omega.

There was a sigh. Omega opened her eyes just in time to see Crosshair sit down on the edge of the cot.

“Crosshair?”

He frowned at her and chewed his lip. “I can go away if that’s preferable.”

No!” Omega reached out and grabbed his hand. “This is better, I promise.”

“Then prove it and go to sleep, kid,” said Crosshair.

Omega closed her eyes. She focussed on Crosshair’s hand in her own. It was nice to have something to hold onto and once again Omega thought longingly of Lula. She shifted her grip on Crosshair slightly, just enough so that the tip of her index finger rested against the inside of his wrist. His pulse thumped steadily underneath her touch, relief washing over her with each heartbeat. The steady cadence was enough to lull her into a daze, and then into sleep.

She woke when the day cycle began and the overheads sprang unceremoniously to life with their bright harsh light. Omega did not want to be awake. She’d been comfortable and peacefully dreaming of nothing at all. She nuzzled further into her comfortable bed before her brain caught up with that thought. The cot in the cell was not comfortable. It was hard and unyielding and only a half step better than sleeping directly on the durasteel floor. Omega blinked open her eyes and found herself looking at Crosshair’s chest. At some point he’d lain down on the cot next to her and she’d wrapped herself around him like a dianoga.

“You’re finally awake?” asked Crosshair.

Omega nodded and pushed herself up. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, you needed the rest,” said Crosshair as he rose from the cot.

Omega felt something settle in her at the words. Even though she still felt off-kilter from everything that had happened with Tech, Crosshair’s presence made her feel lighter. Like the others used to after a hard mission. It helped keep Omega calm as the morning hours wore on. Usually the Stormtroopers would have come for her by now but today there wasn’t any movement in the hall outside the containment wall.

It was past midday when finally there was movement. As always the harsh footsteps echoed down the corridor to announce the trooper’s presence. Omega felt her heart lurch with a level of fear that hadn’t been there the last time they took her away. Instinctively she stepped closer to Crosshair, who in turn stepped in front of her.

The group that stopped in front of their door was a mix of commandos and Stormtroopers. Omega gripped at Crosshair’s sleeve when she saw they weren’t alone. Dr. Hemlock was standing at the head of the group.

With a nod from him the red glow of the containment wall vanished and the group stepped inside the cell. Omega could hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

“No need to be frightened, Omega,” said Dr. Hemlock, an amused smile ghosting across his face. “I’ve just come to return something to you personally.”

Dr. Hemlock stood aside and gestured with his non-gloved hand. The Stormtroopers parted to reveal someone slung between them. Tech, ashen and still bruised despite the bacta bath, but awake. His eyes did not focus on either Omega or Crosshair, and it took Omega a moment to realize that Tech wasn’t wearing his goggles, and likely couldn’t see them beyond dark shapes against the grey of the cell. In front of her Crosshair made a strangled noise.

“As promised, you can keep this one. Just know that our deal about behaviour now extends to him as well. That applies to you as well, Crosshair, just in case you have decided that Omega isn’t enough to keep you in line,” said Dr Hemlock with a glance at Crosshair.

Omega could feel Crosshair shaking, and she’d bet credits on it not being out of fear. The troopers supporting Tech stepped past the two of them and dropped Tech onto the cot. Omega had to hold herself back from running to his side immediately when he swayed where he sat.

“I look forward to your continued cooperation, Omega. I will be seeing you tomorrow, for today you may reacquaint yourselves,” said Dr. Hemlock as he stepped back out of the cell, the troopers following silently.

Crosshair and Omega stood silently as the containment wall reactivated and the marching footsteps grew quieter.

As soon as they were gone Omega released Crosshair’s sleeve and scrambled across the cell to Tech. Her hands automatically went to his wrist to check the steady pulse before peering up into his face. The bruising was still evident, and the red line of stitching along his right temple stood out starkly against the ashy tone his skin had taken on. The worst was seeing the line bisecting the cornea of his eye. Omega felt her stomach revolt and looked somewhere safer down by Tech’s chin.

“Glad to see the reports of your death were greatly exaggerated,” said Crosshair as he came to stand beside the cot, aiming for something light and failing.

Showing the first signs of awareness since being deposited in the cell Tech looked up in Crosshair’s general direction with a wry grin. “You have such little faith in me?”

Omega threw her arms around Tech’s shoulders and gave in to the urge to cry. His good hand, his left hand, came up to hold her. She could feel the twitch his right gave and didn’t have to look to see the furrow that would be present between his brows and the confusion in his eye.

“You could’ve done a little better, the kid was beside herself,” said Crosshair.

“My ap-ap,” Tech stumbled over the word and paused, something Omega had never heard him do before. “I am sorry.”

“What?” sounded Crosshair, sounding taken aback, and not because of the apology.

“Something is wrong,” said Tech. “The word just sl-sl- won’t come to mind.”

Hidden in Tech’s shoulder, Omega cried harder. This was her fault. She wasn’t experienced enough, wasn’t good enough, to completely fix the damage the fall had done to Tech’s brain. She wasn’t sure how it would manifest, but this would be hard for Tech if it meant he could no longer communicate in the precise, clinical way he was used to.

“I’m sorry,” Omega said, muffled by the black uniform they’d dressed Tech in.

The arm around Omega pulled her in closer. She could feel the light tremor that ran through it, a curse for the fiddly repairs Tech liked to do to his datapad and the Marauder. Omega didn’t think she could feel any guiltier about the situation and yet it settled in over her like the weight of the galaxy had descended upon her shoulders.

“It is not your fault. As I understand it you sa-“ Tech paused as his words failed once more. “You kept me from death. Thank you.”

Omega looked up from Tech’s shoulder. There was a gentle smile on his face, but she would not raise her eyes any further and see the evidence of her failings.

“Kriff, and I was just getting her settled down too,” said Crosshair, joining them on the cot with a thump and rubbing at his forehead. “You always did like to disrupt any plans you didn’t make.”

“Language,” muttered Tech.

Omega choked a startled laugh through her tears. It was just so Tech, to come back from the dead, be put together wrong, and instead focus on the fact that Crosshair swore in front of her in his presence. Like Crosshair hadn’t had nearly a full week to fill Omega’s ears with all kinds of phrases the batch were careful not to say around her. Omega finally let go of Tech and folded her hands together in her lap. She couldn’t just keep crying, not if Tech could be so strong. She remembered what he'd said in that cave, that sometimes they had to adapt and move on, that he processed moments differently. Maybe this was one of those ways, and her emotions were just keeping him locked in a moment. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to be strong. Like Tech.

“Speaking of plans, I assu- I am guessing you already have one for our esc-esc- uncapture?” said Tech, frustration leaking into his voice.

“Not as much, no,” said Crosshair with a glance towards Omega.

Tech frowned at the words and Omega was glad that he likely couldn’t see the look on Crosshair’s face. He was sitting on Tech’s newly blind side after all. The thought was a pit in Omega’s stomach.

“If I don’t behave, they’ll hurt you both,” said Omega quietly. “If you don’t, they’ll hurt me.”

She took Tech’s good hand and held his fingers over her broken pinky. She knew it wasn’t setting right with all the work she’d been forced to do with it. It was worth it to save his life, and she knew his sensitive fingers would feel the break. He’d understand the threat was very real. The frown on Tech’s face deepened as he ghosted his fingers over her smaller ones.  He drew his hand back and tapped a finger against his chin in a comfortingly familiar gesture.

“Then that just means we will have to be cau- careful,” said Tech. “Now, please, give me all the inf-inf- data you can on what’s been happening here.”

Omega and Crosshair shared a look. Neither of them felt particularly inclined to give Tech the details when less than a rotation ago he had been dead to one of them and dying to the other. But they did. They caught him up slowly, trading off for the details of everything that happened in their time in the facility.  Tech took it all in quietly. The gears of his mind were turning with the information and Omega had no doubt he was coming up with something. She could only hope it wasn’t going to get them all into trouble.

Next Chapter (coming soon)

If you liked this, please consider giving it a like or leaving a lil comment <3

[ivyfox-illustration]

Colorful Poodle, Clipboard, Stationary Supplies, Cute Dog Lover Gift, Office Supplies, Watercolor Design Your favourite breed art print - head or body conformation - groomer gift - Other Breeds Available - dog breeder gift - regional specialty or national specialty prize gift idea Artwork by Ivy Fox Illustration Follow Ivy Fox Illustration on social media https://m.facebook.com/IvyFox.illustration/ https://www.instagram.com/ivyfox.illustration/ Find your dog breed: Personalized Pet Portraits: https://ivyfoxillustrates.etsy.com/ My website: https://ivyfoxillustration.com/ Art Prints Merch Original PaintingsClipboard, Stationary Supplies, Cute Dog Lover Gift, Office Supplies, Watercolor Design Colorful poodle clipboard featuring pastel watercolor splatter and a white poodle in a continental cut, making it a unique gift for dog groomers. The vibrant colors and all-over print make this clipboard stand out, perfect for those who love stylish and practical accessories. Ideal for dog lovers, groomers, and show dog owners. Relevant for birthdays, holidays, and appreciation gifts for dog lovers. bring some extra character around the office, the dog show, your next dog sporting event, the classroom, the upcoming event, or anywhere in between. This clipboard is made in the USA and has a double sided design. original artwork created and designed by the very real, living, breathing artist, Ivy Fox Illustration! Pastel Watercolor Splatter, White Poodle, Continental Cut, Show Dog, Unique Dog Groomer Gifts, Poodle Clipboard, Product features - Polished chrome clip for holding standard letter size paper - Built-in hook for easy placement - Vibrant colors with latest printing techniques - All over print design on both sides - Fiberboard base for durability Care instructions - Gently wipe the dirt or dust off with a clean, dry microfiber clothContact Email: IvyFoxIllustration@ gmail(dot)com ———— Tags and other miscellaneous info: ———— Ivy Fox Illustration Ivy Fox dog art Museum of the Dog American Kennel Club Showsight - Where Champions Are Celebrated American Dog Fancier InfoDog Best In Show The Canine Chronicle AKC Gazette best pet portrait artist watercolor fine art unique art Akc meet the breeds Westminster kennel club dog show national dog show crufts grooming intergroom superzoo petquest groom expo dog sports well bred dogs purebred preservation breeders ethical breeders breeder of merit akc grand champion Ch – Champion of Record – earned by gaining 15 points in conformation wins. Points awarded is determined by the number of other entries the winning dog defeats. A dog must win at least two majors (by winning at two different shows under two different judges where there are enough entries defeated to equal 3-5 points by the AKC point system. OTCh – Obedience Trial Champion To earn an obedience title, the dog must have a passing score of 50% of possible points or better, and an overall passing score at three different competitions under three different judges. CD – Companion Dog (First Level Obedience Competition, basic obedience exercises) CDX – Companion Dog Excellent (Intermediate Level Obedience Competition, more advanced obedience work) UD – Utility Dog (Advanced Level Obedience Competition, difficult obedience work, including hand signals) UDX – The highest obedience degree AKC presently awards TRACKING TD – Tracking Dog TDX – Tracking Dog Excellent VST – Variable Surface Tracking HERDING HIC – Herding Instinct Certificate HT – Herding Tested PT – PreTrial Tested HS – Herding Started HI – Herding Intermediate HX – Herding Excellent HCh – Herding Champion AGILITY NA – Novice Agility OA – Open Agility AX – Agility Excellent MX – Master Agility Excellent NAJ – Novice Agility Jumper OAJ – Open Agility Jumper EAJ – Excellent Agility Jumper AKC Unofficial Titles CGC – Canine Good Citizen ROM – Register of Merit – A dog or bitch must earn a number of points specified by the DPCA rules, and also meet the numbers of champion and major pointed progeny required by DPCA. The requirements for bitches are less than the requirements for the dogs because males have the opportunity to produce a far larger number of offspring. ROMC – Canadian ROM ROM/C – designates that the dog has earned an American and a Canadian ROM. TT – Temperament Tested TC – Temperament Certified AOE – Award of Excellence-A dog must meet qualifications in conformation, obedience, and also be OFA´d to earn this award. New competitions are being added and rules for competitions change, for the most up to date rules and regulations, check with the AKC and the DPCA. Miscellaneous American titles often seen on pedigrees and in advertising. BIS – Best in Show at an All-Breed Show in conformation. BISS – Best in Show Specialty (where only dogs of the same breed are competing in conformation) BOB – Best of Breed BOS – Best Opposite Sex BOW – Best of Winners (best between Winners Dog and Winners Bitch in breed conformation class competition) WD – Winners Dog – the winning dog overall of the regular classes of his sex. WB – Winners Bitch – the winning bitch overall of the regular classes of her sex. RWD/RWB – Runner up to the winners dog and bitch, if the winner becomes ineligible for the award then the runner up will receive the points awarded from that show. Special – A dog that is already a Champion that is competing for Best of Breed only. A Champion cannot compete in the classes where points are earned (because a Champion has already earned them!) RTD – Registered Therapy Dog TD I- Dog has passed Therapy Dog International´s testing HEALTH CERTIFICATIONS OVC – Ontario Veterinary College OVC Hip Certification – A dog may be preliminary screened at a younger age, but will not receive a certification unless the dog is at least 18 months old. It was told to me by a tech in the radiology department of OVC that they consider hips to either be bad, in which case they are rated on a scale from 0 – 4, with 4 being the worse, or they are “good” in which case the animal will receive a certification number (if 18 months or older. Therefore they do not follow the U.S. rating system which includes “FAIR”, Good, Excellent”. Their exact words were “the hips are either GOOD or they are NOT. OFA – Orthopedic Foundation for Animals OFA Hip Certifications – dogs within a specified range of normal hip x-rays are certified OFA-Excellent, Good, or Fair OFA – Elbow Certification – Certified by OFA for normal elbows on x-ray, only one grade recognized as normal. Check with OFA for proper procedures and positioning for hip and elbow x-rays. A dog may be preliminary screened at a younger age, but will not receive a certification unless the dog is at least 24 months old. OFA is also now doing certifications for other canine health concerns such as normal thyroid levels, check with OFA for accurate data and rules concerning these. CERF – Canine Eye Registry Foundation-dog is certified to have normal eyes. Re-certification must be done annually. vWD – Von Willebrands Disease free-meaning the dog has been tested and found free of vWD, a bleeding disorder, vWD free ratings also are often given with a percentage listed. For the best information on Von Willebrand´s Disease, contact Dr Jean Dodds, who is the leading research specialist in blood disorders. Dog show prize idea

[phramboise]

— heart's blood in ink :: lieutenantjohnpricexfemale reader

you’re half of the flesh, and blood makes him feel whole

tags and warnings: minors please do not interest, angst, very detailed substance use, addiction, strong language, blood, illusions of smut, descriptions of a physically weak reader. this is more of an addiction piece than it is cod fan work, this is vivid imagery. none of this is romanticising.

wordcount: 1.1k

…

“Do you mind?”

“Of course I do.”

“Fuck off then.”

Says her, pulling out the little clear zip lock out the cardholder of her wallet, turning it inside out, rubbing the empty contents pooled around the corners along her runny nostrils, and following behind him as the package slips off her hand, onto the floor.

That’s expected, and him knowing she will follow behind, his steps are slower than usual for her to catch up, looking askance at her slanky arm around his much larger one, and sighs as he wraps that arm around her shoulder, pulling her side towards his until they meet.

“Getting worse?”

Her humming yes, he breathes in her perfume as she stuffs her wallet back in her bag. He takes it off her arm to carry it himself.

Tightening his hold on her, he turns them both back over the street where they came from.

“I’ll get you a spray.”

No answer. Only a slight squeeze on his hand which holds her shoulder, walks alongside of him.

…

Never once he asks her why she snorts, or tells her to quit it, but sometimes, most times, as she cathces him siphoning the bags, and even as she undoubtedly dives her hand in the toilet to grab the pearl dust back and fails, they argue about it. Never tells her to quit it, but always telling her some way. Fuck off then! she shouts, but just like her lover, she also means things which she speaks not about.

Burnt and wet, her stillettos clack against the pebble sidewalk as a few homeless burn things to warm up in the distance. Street lights work every other day in this part of Liverpool, and there’s rust to breathe when there’s no oxygen. Perfect excuse for her. It’s this city that clogs her nasal vessels, this place is just not her lucky city. But even in summer, and even when people don’t burn synthetics, her nose is always runny.

How come you’re the only one who’s sick each season then? You’re just making that up.

Slowly pushing open the door of her maisonette, -her maisonette that he pays the rent for- her borzoi inside still sleeps soundly on her only couch. She slips out the leather jacket of his, and it falls on the dusty floor with a clanking sound of its zipper, and he makes no effort to hang it either, follows her dainty steps towards the kitchen, placing a few dabs on the sleek fur of the dog, on his way.

“Let’s see if that’s any better.”

It’s not the cold that gets your nose running.. “Here, let me…”

He leans over her to get equal on her height, but then smiles, his strong grip puts her on the kitchen table with both hands on her sides, sitting on the chair himself to look up at her face. Delicate feet land on the cushion of his chair, between his thighs as he spreads them, sliding further on his seat until her cool skin teases the stitch of his trousers. They both grin like idiots— that is, until their gaze breaks with her coughing, which makes him slide the thin pipe of the spray up her nose, spraying it through her nostrils as she holds her breath, feeling his other hand on her thigh. She rubs her nose, and he hates that such simple gest reminds him of something much more distasteful, for he always sees her do it.

It’s one of those days, where he once more realises of her frailty. The spray is halfway dripping out her nose as she wipes it away, but that’s not all, it’s not only a clear liquid that stains her hand, it’s more than that, it trails down her palm, wraps around her fingers in rivulets. Still looking at him -and because it’s not very rare now-, she does not notice her nose bleeding. His little smile dies on his face, and the chair creaks as he harshly pulls back, not in anger but in ruin, defeat. She looks down at her fingers, not even able to smell the copper, and they both know the reason of her weak sense of smell is not her “cold”.

Pinching does not help with her case, it makes it worse, for her vessels are already swollen with cocaine, pressing only hurts, makes blood gush out stronger. She only breathes in the blood, and coughs the rest on the napkin he hands her, staining the rough paper. She avoids his weary gaze as he leans back on his chair, tilting his head back up the ceiling until her troubled face exits his peripheral.

What would get her to understand? Would one day if he were to flush down all her little bags, leaving only catharsis to her get her to understand? If he were to pull out her wig, tell her somehow that even when the lights are low, she wears sunglasses for her eyes are sensitive and it pains him to not see her pupils, even when they’re dilated all black in rush, cocaine eyes, would she finally quit if he were to tell her it feels like hugging a skeleton holding her?

Do you think I want this to happen?!

She’d freeze all over, and her nose would bleed again as blood rushes to her face, crying, and some more hair would fall as she would throw her wig to some distant corner of the room. She’d cry more for that.

And as he gives her a soothing hug, why do you make me cry if you’ll hug me in the end? Fuck off, she’d say, and rub her bloody chin on his shirt. They’d make love and wake up to the next same day.

He does not ask her to quit, and she does not wait for such offer.

He rises from his seat, walking towards the little balcony, waking the dog deliberately to fill the displeasing silence. For it to run and defeat the ghosts around. It simply lays by the couch.

Night goes on so very slow, and his uncomfortable silence gets interrupted as she walks in the balcony, leaning against her arms over the railings, looking down before turning back to him.

Full moon, he’d watch her as she snakes her arms behind his neck, kissing his cheeks sorry, and he’d tilt his head for their lips to meet, she’d feel his tongue in her mouth, and his taste would suppress the ting of blood mixed with mouthwash she uses religiously. For him to not taste it too. She’d shed tears as they kiss, and he would catch them between his lips. He’d imagine her undressing, taking off his clothes later, slipping into the bed with him. An indolent sigh. She’d imagine his heat entering each nook. She’d cry, and he’d kiss each cranny where only the sun kissed. All day he’d think of her.

She’d promise to quit later in the night, as the effect wears off, but she’d always need another reminder of it’s highs, another sniff. She’d take pills to fall asleep and he’d smoke the cigars she bought for him, saying it looks better than cigarettes, I smoke them for the looks. They’d exchange the smokes between their welcoming lips, sealing it with a kiss. She’d steal it off his hand, smoking the rest as she’d sing him to sleep, some low blues. He’d let her.

They even have a sick bet between them; who’d die first? He says it’s himself to not upset her, and she says it’s him for there’s no way she’d die before a man who goes battling -and to not accept the inevitable-.

No one wins this bet.

If he were to see himself down the street one day, he would have a many few words with him. Having no lessons of what had befallen on you, isn’t it already enough to try running when this last love hasn’t died yet? Isn’t it enough ruin already? Do you not think? Do you think you can ever forget about her?

If he were to see her walking down the street on another day, he would tear the face of death after her, spinning. She would laugh at him, and walk away, away and far from him. He would follow behind.

…

If he were to ask her though, she does it because she’s done with this world, and she cannot carry him along to the world she’s running to. This fire ain’t worth accepting with open arms, thus she’d given up from this world, she’s done with it. But she’s leaving him behind, and that kills her faster than this white crap. Her only prayer would be him never dreaming of her after, she wouldn’t mind if he were to forget about her. In the lowest deep of a lower deep, the hell she suffers feels like heaven, and that’s what she would tell him if he were to ever ask.

…

Now laying under this lady with similar features she had but somehow looks a whole lot of different, he’d imagine it’s her who he just made out with, and as the lady asks so politely with her sultry voice, can I take a puff?, he’d tell her to sleep.

read part II, gold dust woman

[lynderman]

𝙂𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙨𝙚 𝙊𝙛 𝙐𝙨 (Robin Arellano) Final Part

Pairing: Robin Arellano x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,955

Date Published: 8/9/22

Tags: Angst, AU, Alternate Universe, Heartbreak, breakups, (past) fluff, eventual Vance Hopper X Reader, time-skips, flashbacks, confessions, fighting.

Description: (This AU Has no grabber what so ever. It's just with the characters. I'm also making them all 16-17 just because it seems better to me lol.)

You and Robin had been dating for quite a while. It all went downhill When he began to get into fights again. A bit later, you get with someone else. How will Robin handle seeing you with someone who isn't him?

Full Chapterlist

(taglist)

@jackie-xoxo

@jadearellano

@wowwontonsoup

@liissharks

@kennedy4262

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥

As you locked the car door you shivered slightly. You had been in such a rush that you didn't bring a jacket. The dock looked abandoned as usual, other than a small group of other teens on the other side skinny dipping. It wasn't unusual, you just hoped that whoever wanted to meet you here wasn't wanting to participate In that. You made your way down the old dock. At the end, there was an old wooden bench. Wiping the dust off of it, you took a seat and looked around the lake. There wasn't anyone right by you. You enjoyed the peace and quiet.

You soon heard the crunch of leaves behind you, followed by footsteps on the old wood. You turned to your right, expecting to see Vance. It wasn't Vance. It was Robin. He looked the same as usual. You did notice that he was wearing a different belt buckle. You were a bit confused to see that it was the one you got him months ago. "Can I sit here?" You mumbled a yes. It was quiet for a while. Not awkward, just tense. As if you both didn't want to talk. "So you left the note in my locker?" You asked. "Yeah. I did." You slumped a little. "Do you want someone else here?" He turned to face you. "No no. It's not that. I just thought that it was Vance who left it." He gave you a sad look.

"Did he forget it was your birthday?" You didn't want to say yes. "That little prick." His tone of voice changed as he began to tap his knee. "He doesn't deserve you." You looked at Robin with more confusion. "He treats you like absolute shit. He ditches you for other people, yells at you constantly, and is borderline abusive. You don't deserve to be treated like that at all." You just sat there. "That's the same thing he said about you." He stopped tapping his knee. "That night at the roller rink. After we left he kept telling me about how 'He doesn't want to see me hurt again' and how 'I deserve so much better." It was complete bullshit. I wanted to stay back and talk with you. But of course he had to start a fight. I contemplated not going with him and just staying with you but-" You stopped when you processed what you were saying. You just outted your feelings to Robin again. You were still with Vance and he was still with Paige. Why did he come here anyways?

Robin held out his hand, signaling for you to open yours. He then handed you the other half of the bandana from the roller rink. "I fixed it for you. I sewed the rips. That way you don't have to keep the other half in your pocket all day. Maybe you can sew it back together." You couldn't help but blush. How did he know you always kept it in your pocket? It never went In our out unless you were in your room. "Look (y/n)." Robin scooted closer to you, turning his body to face you fully.

"Before Vance interrupted at the rink, I was going to say I'm sorry." You couldn't look at him. You couldn't bring yourself to do it. He sighed before going into greater detail.

"I'm sorry that I broke up with you. Especially the way it went down. Words cannot express how sorry I am. I never wanted to break up with you. I never wanted to go back to Paige. Everything she said was a lie. I never went to go see her. My Abuela was really sick. Or to say all those things about you. None of them were true. I was just so angry at myself. I took it out on you for no reason either. I shouldn't have let it get to the point where you were crying. And I'm sorry I forgot out anniversary. That was a dick move of me. I know that made all of it worse. And I'm sorry that I got into so many fights. I thought it would make me look better. That winning all of them would show how strong and confident I was. I just wanted to impress you was all. And I realize now it wasn't the correct way to do it. I got a bit jealous over the fact that Vance was hanging out with you more. You just make me feel something I can't explain. I don't know how to put it into words. You make me nervous, but I also get really happy. I Get all fidgety and talkative. Every time I see you and you smile at me it makes me feel like I got hit in the face. But in a good way. You're really pretty too. It's really hard to look away from you sometimes. And I care about you so much. You mean more to me than anyone in this world. And I don't wanna hurt you. But I know I did hurt you. With everything I've said and done. I didn't want to lose you either. But I did that too. I don't want to lose you again. It was wrong of me to compare you to Paige. The only reason I got back with was because I was lonely. I don't feel anything for her. Every thing we did, every hug she gave me, anything. I pretended it was you. I tried so hard to get over you. But I can't. You've shown me more love and affection than anyone else ever has. And that's why I care about you a lot. I want to protect you. I want you to be be happy. Every time I saw you cry it made me want to cry. I just want you to feel the same about me. I just want you to lo-"

"Love you?"

Robin froze. He was now standing up and in some over exaggerated pose. He always moves when he talks so it wasn't a surprise. When you met his eyes you could tell he was trying his hardest to hold back tears. "Yes. I want you to love me. When you told me on the hill, it hit me like a brick. That you did love me. That you felt the same way I feel now. And I didn't notice that. And I fucked up and then you got with Vance. But he's also-" Robin stopped speaking when you pressed your lips to his. He stood there in shock. When you stepped back you looked at him again, you could see he was crying.

"I'm sorry too Robin. For saying everything I said. And comparing you to Vance. I shouldn't have said any of that either. I did the same thing. I just Imagined Vance was you the entire time. It didn't do anything. All those fights you got into? I had to walk away so I wouldn't beat the shit out of the other person for hitting you. Or so I didn't come up to make sure you weren't hurt too badly. But I do love you robin. Even after we broke up. I never moved on. I couldn't. I still can't. I stay up every night waiting for you to climb through my window still."

He walked over and pulled you into his arms. He stood there as he laid his head on top of yours. You stood there, savoring the moment. This is what you'd been waiting for. For months, you waited to feel this type of love. "I accept your apology." You say into his chest. You can feel him laugh. "I accept yours too." After what seemed like minuets the two of you untangled. "So, what are we now?" You couldn't help but laugh as Robin asked. "Back together. Well, I mean if you want to be. Of course if you-"

"I'd love to be, "Mi corazón." A large smile was plastered on your face with his answer. The two of you walked from the dock and back to the parking lot. As you did so, you heard someone calling your name. you turned to see Vance walking angrily towards you both. When he reached you he began shouting. "What the hell is this?! Why are you with him?" He screamed. "Why were you with Paige earlier?" Vance went silent. On cue, again. Paige walked up behind him, calling his name.

"Robbie, why are you with her?" She sneered. "Don't call me that. And because we're dating again." Her jaw dropped. "Vance, I'm breaking up with you." He looked over to you. "You can't-" "Yes. I can. And I did." You grabbed Robin's Hand and began to walk off. You paused for a moment before shouting back to Paige. "He has AIDS by the way! From all the other girls he's been with!" The two of you watched and cackled as they fought.

"So you didn't drive here?" Robin shook his head. "So you walked." He nodded. At least you had a car now. He complimented it when you two made It to the parking lot. He walked over to get in but stopped when he saw you standing there. "Do you mind-" "Just hand me the keys." You smiled as you handed him your car keys and got in the passengers side. On the car ride back to your house, you both had the windows rolled down and the radio blasting Pink Floyd.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You mom still wasn't home. So you decided to let Robin sneak in. It wasn't exactly sneaking in if he went through the open front door. The two of you sat at the dining table eating your cake for a while before you decided to go to your room. When he walked in he smiled proudly. "Glad to see nothing's changed." He walked over to your record collection and began to peek through. The two of you sat on the bed playing your guitar for a while. That turned into a talk about school drama. Then that turned into something about animals. "Before I forget..." Robin begins to dig in his pocket. He pulls out. a small bag. Inside is an obsidian necklace. It has a locket at the end. Inside is a photo of the two of you on your first date. You smile and kiss his cheek. "I love it."

"You still kept it?" You set your necklace down and looked over to see Robin holding your cow. "Oh-yeah."

"I'd kinda hug it everynight since you weren't here." You laid on your back and looked up to the ceiling. "Well now I am." You felt his arm wrap around your waist, and pull you into his chest. The two of you stayed like this as you felt yourself grow sleepier. You turned over to look at him as your eyes began to droop. "Goodnight Robin."

"Goodnight (Y/n)."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You bolted up right in bed. You were struggling to breathe for a moment as you sweat heavily and tears were pouring down your face. You aggressively felt around the bed for another person as you struggled to see in the dark. You didn't stop until someone grabbed your hand. Robin slowly sat up next to you and turned the light on. "(Y/n)..what's wrong? Why are you-" He heard you sniffle before you hugged him tightly. "What'd you dream about?" You explained the dream in vivid detail. You couldn't hold back your sobs. When you finished Robin cupped his face in your hands. "That'll never happen. (Y/n) you know I care about you too much to do that." He reassured you for a while until you calmed down enough. When you laid back down he placed a kiss on your forehead. "I love you Mi corazón." You smiled as you closed your eyes. "I love you too Robin."

The sound of rain hitting your window was even more comforting than usual tonight.

𝘈 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Fin.

[avatarofseshat]

A Surprise Attempt

Pairing: Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warning: Applied smut, a bit of angst.

A/N: A little cuteness to tie you over. The next parts to both of my series will be (hopefully) coming very soon! Enjoy!

MK Masterlist

----

You were woken from your slumber by a faint tapping. You laid there and blinked as you attempted to clear your mind and the sleep from your eyes. Then you heard it again. You crinkled your brows as your eyes scanned the windows in the bedroom for any signs of wind, branches, or wildlife. There’s none. 

You hesitantly rose from the warmth of your bed and slightly kept into the living room, grabbing a sphinx shaped paperweight from the desk as you passed it. You took a breath as you approached one window. Nothing. Then another. Still Nothing. The last window you had to check was the one next to the kitchen. You didn’t want to be see by any potential threat so you lowered yourself to the floor and crawled to the other side of the kitchen island. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in and slowly rose to your feet until your eyes where just above the counter top. 

You sprung to your full height as your eyes made contact with the figure outside of the window. “Steven!” You exclaimed as you pried the heavy wooden frame open.

“‘ello love,” he mumbled as you stood back as he rather ungracefully climbed through it. You rose your brows as you watched your boyfriend dust himself off as he straightened up the suit. “I didn’t mean to…” he stopped mid-sentence as his gaze met your adoring one. 

You stepped closer closing the small distance between the two of you as you spread your palms across the textured fabric of his suite noting the feeling of his tonned physique hidden beneath the opalescent white fabric “why were you on the roof?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he sighs as your hands toyed with the buttons of his waistcoat. 

“Oh,” your smile as now your curiosity has been piqued.

“I wanted to see you…and….,” he said as he suddenly begun searching his pockets until he pulled out a small satchel “I got you something.” A smile spread spread further across your face as you bit your lip in anticipation. You alway loved the little trinkets and things Steven would get you. You made sure to proudly display them around your apartment.

You caught yourself hyper fixating on how he was dipping his large fingers into the small bag as he gingerly fished out the small item within. A blush started forming on you neck as you recalled on the things he has done with those digits. 

“My naughty girl,” he teased as you attempted to hide your embarrassment at being caught “you’ll have to wait a bit.” 

Your eyes lite up when you saw the golden bracelet he presented to you and you watched adoringly as he fastened it around your wrist “Oh…Steven….it’s beautiful!” You run your fingers gingerly along the fine gold chain and pause at the shape in the center as your eyes squint to take in the symbols - the hieroglyphs - that are engraved upon it “what does it say?”

“Love,” his voice his husky and barely above a whisper as he presses his forehead to yours “what’s wrong, darling?” He asks as his now ungloved fingers wipe away the tears that had involuntarily trailed down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you respond briefly sniffling and briefly pulling away as you meet his concerned gaze “It-It’s just that you always…I never thought.”

“Oh..dove,” he coos as he continues to stoke your cheeks with his thumbs and pulls you slightly closer “you are everything to me…and I will do my best to give you all that you deserve…everything.”  

You closed your eyes with a sigh of contentment as Steven’s warm soft lips met yours as you were wrapped in his embrace. 

“I love you so much,” he mumbles into your lips not wanting to completely break the contact. 

“I love you too,” you manage to mumble back before he kisses you once more.

----

Tagging List (DM or reply to be added to the list):

@toracainz

[sinfulwrites]

Tommy x fem reader one shot idea where she's good friends with Luda Mae (comes over to help her around the house & talk, but mainly comes over to see Tommy lol) and one day Luda pulls out Thomas' baby pics bc she just knows reader has a crush on him & she approves of her for her son <3 but then Tommy sees his mom showing his crush the pictures & he's super embarrassed & insecure & freaks out trying to snatch them to rip them up, but reader accidentally slips up & says something along the lines of, "don't tear them, I'll want to show our kids!" & reader & Tommy just short circuit out of happiness and embarrassment at the sudden & accidental confession :')

Hi anon! I really enjoyed writing this one, the idea was so lovely and a good dash of funny. I kind of got ahead of myself writing it because I had so much fun writing it, I hope you still enjoy it. Hopefully I got everything from your ask in here, I did my best to make sure.

I mean, your children.

Your family knew the Hewitt's for years. Your mom and dad were good friends with Luda Mae for years, she was practically your second mother. You were all grown up now, and your childhood town was starting to die. The last running business, the slaughterhouse, was rumored to be shutting down. It was the last profitable business in this town, if it crashed, the whole town will. Your parents packed up and left town a month ago, but you opted to stay in town. The roots you had planted here were too strong to abandon, especially the secretly growing love for a man in the Hewitt house.

You and Thomas kind of grew up together, but you didn't get to know him until you two were all grown up. Your parents often went over to the Hewitt house to see Luda Mae, and you tagged along. You and Thomas were both shy kids growing up, so you avoided each other most of the time, hiding behind your respective mothers. You two didn't go to school together, your parents homeschool you until first grade, and by then Thomas was no longer in school. As you got older you opted out on the Hewitt family visits, wanting to stay home and indulge in your hobbies or see friends. Simply put; you two fell out of touch for a while.

You two found each other again when you moved out of your parents house and got a job at Luda Mae's shop. It was your first job, and Luda Mae practically gave it to you before you could even ask for an application. She was the sweetest boss you ever had. She was very particular about her shop, and she expected a certain standard, but they were never over the top. Wanting the floors swept, counters wiped down, shelves dusted, things along those lines. She was a hard working woman, she ran this store like she ran her home. She wasn't afraid to get down on the floor and scrub with you. She was a very fair boss, and that's how you grew to love her as a person. It also helps that she treated you like a daughter. Always praising you, encouraging you, mentoring you.

You were always offered a seat at her table for supper, and you often took her up on the offer. You knew her family very well. You weren't very fond of Charlie, especially not with the remarks and the looks he gives you, but he backs off when you give him a glare. Especially if Luda Mae is nearby. You are polite, but keep your distance. You're neutral on Monty. He hasn't done anything to personally offend you, but you knew he wasn't much more innocent than Charlie. He never made advances on you though, and if he's had enough beers, he could be pretty entertaining to listen to.

Then there was Thomas… Thomas worked at the slaughterhouse and was often out cold in bed by the time you and Luda Mae close up shop and head to her house, since he is up and hard at work at 6 am. You two have had your fleeting glances however, and you swear your heart skips a beat every time it does. He is always hard at work with something, in a rush to be somewhere, but when he sees you he always slows down and gives you a wave before continuing on. If you stop him to talk, he will stop and give some quick responses, even though he would love to sit and talk with you. He just has a lot of things to take care of. You couldn't remember when he crawled into your heart, but he had fully intended to stay, because you were helplessly in love with him. You were just never sure if he liked you back.

Luda Mae noticed, and she was not shy about bringing it up to you. You swore your face was on fire when she just casually told you one day, "You know, my boy Thomas is single."

She only smiled and shrugged when you gasped and covered your burning face. That did not help.

Years passed though, and you just never ended up saying anything. You were too young, too insecure. Trying to figure things out, you were convinced you could never find time for a relationship with your current life situation. As much as you liked him, you weren't ready. Luda Mae knew that too, she could see it in your eyes when she would drop little hints to you. It reminded her of herself when she was your age. You would get there one day, just like she did. You can't rush such delicate things, she knew it well.

With years came age for Luda Mae, though. She wasn't afraid to admit it; she was getting old. She couldn't clean as much as she used to, she can't kneel as much as she could before, forget picking something up off the floor. Only on a good day. It was a no brainer to you to pick up where she left off, you were capable. You loved Luda Mae like your second mom, but you also respected her for the woman she was. She worked hard her whole life, and she deserved some help now that she needs it. Her age started affecting her home life, and she vented her frustrations to you over her smoke break at the bar. She just couldn't keep up with the cleaning, and Charlie wasn't going to be helping her with it. Thomas is working too much to help, but he does what he can when he can. But he and Luda Mae knew it wasn't near enough. She opened up to you; she was worried about her boy.

"Thomas has always been hard on himself, he didn't have an easy upbringin', you know…" Luda Mae took a drag off her cigarette and let the smoke linger in her lungs as she stared out the window for a moment. "But lately, he just seems so distant… He feels like a stranger in his own home. He won't even come to the dinner table until we invite him in. Like he's some pet..." She flicked the cigarette ash off into the ash tray and let the smoke finally release. "I worry about my boy… I don't know if I can get him out of that dark place. I miss my boy, you know?"

It always broke your heart to hear her in such a vulnerable state. It's painful to hear how the Hewitt house was rapidly declining, just like this town was. Times were incredibly hard. Talks of having to close the shop down have been discussed between you and her. You wonder how you're going to pay your bills each month, you wonder how you're going to get food on your table. Your heart ached for her, and it ached for Thomas, the man who still occupied your heart all these years later. It was another no brainer to you.

You offered to help her out at home, and at first, she immediately rejected it. She had no way to pay you for it, and she knew you had your own personal responsibilities outside of work. You shouldn't trouble yourself with an old woman like her, you are young, you need to go live your life. You insisted though, you didn't want to be paid, you wanted to do it because you cared. Luda Mae has always looked out for you for all these years, even when you were really young. It was the least you could do. It took a few more discussions to get her to, very begrudgingly, agree. She was embarrassed for the help, but you could tell she appreciated it. She needed help, even though she was too humble to ask for it.

That's how you ended up helping them in the house. Being here so often to help her clean let you get an idea of what she was talking about. There was always tension in the air, especially if Charlie was home, which he usually was. You always got a sense that Charlie was starting to run the show around here. You could hear him barking orders around, you could hear him talking to Thomas in the basement and your stomach churned at the things you heard, but Luda Mae always stopped you before you could confront Charlie. "We don't want to make him angry." She whispered to you, and it broke your heart to hear this power woman's voice quiver. You weren’t scared of Charlie, but you agreed to turn the other way, because you were worried for her safety.

Some days, though, the tension could be broken through. Particularly if Charlie was gone or napping. He was doing something away from the family, and that's all that mattered. You and Luda Mae still met on your day's off, you were still offered dinner inventions, though notably only on nights Charlie would be out. You often had lunch together, and of course you saw each other when you came over to help take care of her house.

On very rare occasions, you saw Thomas too. He looked terrible. His shoulders constantly sulked, his eyes never seemed to hold any life in them, and he was always a mess. You saw what Luda Mae meant, how he lingered in the doorways of his own home, never daring to enter until he was welcomed in. How he never looked comfortable, always ready to get up and leave the second he is told to. Back down to that basement. You wouldn't be surprised if he had a bed down there, you were starting to think he lived down there. Still, in those rare pacing glances, he always seemed to find a spark of energy, even if it was just for a moment. Any time he saw you cleaning he would rush to take over for you, and you could tell he was embarrassed to see someone cleaning his own house when it should be him doing it. He looked so genuinely shocked every time you insisted to him that you didn't mind, and you wanted to help, and that he didn't have to worry about it anymore. He wouldn't stop worrying, but admittedly, knowing someone was helping his mom took a little bit of the load off his shoulders. The guilt in seeing you down on your knees cleaning his floors adds back twenty pounds, though. If you two simply pass in a hallway, he noticeably straightens up to give you a wave. It felt like you were the only thing that gave him a sense of joy for even a moment, and you were conflicted on how to feel about it. You certainly didn't want to be giving him such joy simply because he was so broken. You just wanted to hug him and never let him go.

"Heart breaking, ain't it?" Luda Mae asked out of the blue after you passed by Thomas in the entryway. You couldn't even pretend to play naïve, you just sighed and nodded your head. She rubbed your back when you came over to look out the window with her and watch Thomas begin to drag himself across the property to get something from the shed.

"Luda Mae… Is it because of…?" You didn't want to say Charlie's name, but you both knew who you were talking about.

Luda Mae simply sighed and wrapped her arm around you. "Thomas has always been a deeply disturbed boy, honey. There's a pain in his heart I just simply can't help him heal. With all the hardships lately, though… Yeah, I would say that is a fair assumption. It certainly didn't help."

Luda Mae rubbed your arm for a moment before taking the kettle off the stove when it began to scream. You watched Thomas for a moment longer before sighing and sitting down at the table, dusting off your skirt to pass time before Luda Mae brought the pot over, and two cups. You guys talked as you always did, but you were still thinking about Thomas. Luda Mae knew it too, she always did. You swear she had some sort of sixth sense.

"Luda Mae, did you guys ever take baby pictures of Thomas?" The question came into your mind because you noticed family portraits on the wall, but Thomas wasn't anywhere amongst them.

"We do…" Luda Mae took a sip of her tea, keeping a little smile on her face as she did. "Would you like to see them?"

"Would…" You looked around to see if Thomas was around, even though you knew you didn't hear him come back in yet. "Would he mind? I don't want to embarrass him…"

"Oh he'll be as red as a tomato," She giggled on her way up out of her chair and patted your shoulder as she passed you on her way to grab the photos. "But he'll get over it. Especially if you tell him how cute he was."

You immediately pouted at her, your lips still curved in a smile though as he just smiled and shrugged on her way out. You shook your head to yourself and rubbed your temple. All these years later, and your face still burns like it did when you were back then. Some things never changed, you supposed.

Luda Mae came back with the photos, a few scarce photos she had of Thomas when he was a baby and up to when he was a young boy, but no older than when he was around eight. This really was the first time you honestly saw Thomas's face, seeing just what was under that mask he was hiding, but in no way did you think it was a bad thing.

"Aw, look at how small he was! It's amazing how big he grew!" You gasped in astonishment as you gently took the photo to get a closer look. It was that moment that Luda Mae really thought to herself, yeah, she is the one.

"It's incredible, ain't it?" Luda Mae smiled to herself as he sipped her tea and looked at another photo.

The front door suddenly swung open again, though you two didn't pay it much mind. It was Thomas, of course it was. He was just grabbing a tool from the shed, he was coming right back. He was never one to be nosy, but he noticed you two looking at photos, and was a little intrigued. His stomach dropped when he realized whose photos you were looking at. He dropped the mallet he grabbed from the shed and stormed into the dining room, though immediately slowed his pace before he approached you and held his hand out for the photo. His face was bright red, but there was more than embarrassment in his eyes. You swore you saw him tearing up. You immediately gave him the photo just so he wouldn't be upset, you were immediately going to apologize for invading his privacy, but you immediately had to gasp and grab his hands before he shredded the photo.

"Thomas, don't!" You cried, clutching those gigantic hands and somehow stilling them even though you knew for a fact you were not holding him back with any strength by any means; he simply just let you. "Don't rip them up! How will we ever show our children how you looked when… You were…"

The silence that washed over the room was deafening. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your face was boiling, and Thomas was in the exact same position as you were. Even Luda Mae was surprised, she had to physically contain her excitement by covering her mouth with her palm.

You tried to gulp down your nerves but your throat was bone dry. You had to physically remove yourself from him once you finally regained your strength, because at that very moment you just wanted to ground to swallow you up. You just looked this man in his eyes and told him about your future children. You haven't even told him you liked him yet!!!

"Your… Your children." You clarified, trying to brush this under the rug but you were all beyond that. "Show your children how you looked at their age." You'd be damned if you didn't try to save yourself from this embarrassing moment.

You were the one to remove yourself, excusing yourself to the restroom. You wanted to scream, but what you heard made you swallow the embarrassment down for a moment longer.

"Yes Thomas, see, I told you she liked you! I've been telling you that for years, haven't I?"

You could hear his heavy footsteps rush along the floor, and you heard Luda Mae gasp and laugh, telling him to calm down or he was going to crush the life out of her. A smile started to spread on your face, the mental image starting to become more visible.

When you came back, Thomas was gone. Luda Mae had that look, but she didn't bring it up at all. You noticed the photos still on the table; untouched. He didn't shred them. That was enough to spread that smile on your face even more.

On your way out later that night, Luda Mae gave you a note.

"From Thomas." She said, discreetly, but still with a wink.

You took it with a smile before saying your final goodnight and giving your last hug, then you left the house. While you still had the porch light, you opened the letter to read what he had written for you.

"Thank you for helping take care of the house, Y/N.

Can we meet tomorrow?

Thomas."

His handwriting wasn't the cleanest, but you could tell he did his absolute best to make it readable for you. You got the memo, and you couldn't resist hugging the letter close to your chest as you finally started stepping off the porch and walking to your car.

Of course, the answer was yes.