#I do have to rehydrate to get those ears right-side out but this is really hecking good leather too!!!

[answrs]

today on "answrs very quickly loses their mind over an antelop.e"

(length & caps warning. and pics of animal skull/tanned pelt but that's expected in this tag so...)

you know, I knew elan.ds were big. much bigger than the typical antelop.e in fact! i have a dang hartebees.t and such, i get it!

except APPARENTLY!

i

was

NOT

PREPARED!

HOW IS ↑THIS↑ THING ALMOST AS LONG AS A FUCKIN GEMSBO.K??????? LIKE THAT'S A GEMSBO.K'S WHOLE *DEAL* IS THAT THEY HAVE THE BIG HORNS. THIS HORN IS BIGGER AROUND THAN MY WRIST UNTIL LITERALLY THE TOP FIVE INCHES OF IT WHAT THE F U C K.

oh yeah. and there's more.

because i didn't get just the skull either. no, no! this thing came with its own pelt too!

Sir?

SIR?

SIR?????? SIR HOW ARE YOU STILL GOING!!!!!!! DID YOU ACCIDENTALLY PACK YOUR ENTIRE BODY IN THERE???????

SIR!!!!????? YOUR B U S T IS OVER FIVE-FRICKIN-FEET TALL!!!!!?????? SIR HOW THE FUCK-

SO YEAH. I GUESS THIS IS A THING I HAVE NOW

[vs-redemption]

I JUST CAME UP WITH THE CUTEST THING EVER!

Okok so UA prom night. Bakugou and reader have had secret crushes on each other but like it’s obvious to everyone except each other. Prom is prince/princess themed ok? Everyone goes in groups rather than singles bc no one wants to be left out right?

Bakugou and Reader are crowned prom king and queen!!! And they get their own dance while everyone watches — the song is the Beauty and the beast (a perfect fit for the two). And I think it’s adorable and maybe maybe they kiss 🤭

-🐱❤️

From Cindy: Okay so... lol inspiration for this suddenly smacked me in the brain and it ended up being so long (1,761 words). I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t stop. I had so much fun writing this so thank you 🐱 anon for another great idea.

Prom (Bakugo x Fem!Reader)

When your friends decided to attend your senior prom as a group rather than go through the trouble of finding dates, it was both a blessing and a curse for you. On the one hand, going with the social circle that you’d spent every moment of your high school years with provided the guarantee that you’d have a good time at the prince and princess themed dance no matter what. Plus, you wouldn’t end up in the awkward situation of either being rejected or getting stuck trying to make conversation with a single person the entire night. The downside though was that you had a very specific person in mind who you’d been dreaming of going to prom with ever since he’d caught your eye during the entrance exam to get into UA.

That person was Katsuki Bakugo.

It wasn’t as if you thought you had a chance with the explosive boy in question. He was in the same class as you after all, and although you had formed a weird sort of friendship over the years, he’d never shown any signs that he might return your feelings. And boy, did you have feelings. Through all the intense hero trainings and group study sessions, you’d really been able to get to know the ins and outs of his personality. You knew Bakugo came across as arrogant and abrasive at first glance, but somehow you’d never been able to see him that way. In your eyes, he was the most hardworking and passionate student in the whole school. You couldn’t help but admire how confident he was in his own strength and determination. Ever since his admittedly wild behavior during the sports festival in your first year, people had doubted his choice to pursue a career as a hero and criticized the way he interacted with other people. Never once did he waver in his goal though. He just continued to blaze forward, studying and training hard with that same unwavering persistence that you both loved and envied.

“You look amazing in that dress!” Mina winks and throws you a thumbs up as you all crowd in the dormitory bathroom to help each other get ready.

“Yellow really is your color,” Momo agrees with a smile. “People might actually mistake you for a real princess.”

“Stop!” You were blushing a little from all the attention and from the way your thoughts ran wild with fantasies of Bakugo finally noticing you as more than just a fellow hero course student. “We’re all going to look amazing tonight.”

“Good,” Hagakure chimes in, her pink dress fluttering around her invisible body as she twirled in front of the mirror. “We can’t make it too easy for the judges to pick the prom king and queen!”

Once everyone was ready, the group made their way down to the common room where all the boys were waiting. They all looked handsome and uncharacteristically dressed up in their suits, but you only had eyes for one of them. It was almost unfair how good Bakugo looked. His spikey blonde hair and fiery red eyes were already enough to give you butterflies, but the way his dark blue suit jacket fit perfectly over his broad shoulders and tapered down to show off his narrow waist had you feeling even more flustered.

“You idiots finally ready?” He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets casually. You couldn’t help but smile, remembering the way he’d carried on about dances being lame and how there was no way he’d go. You knew from the start that it was all talk. There was no way he would’ve allowed himself to disappoint his friends like that. He cared about all of them more than he’d ever admit.

The dance coordinators at the school had gone above and beyond when decorating the gymnasium which now looked like a scene out of a fairytale. Everywhere you looked had twinkling lights and cutouts of castle towers and horse drawn carriages. You and your friends made your way inside, smiling and waving to familiar faces from other classes and taking in the atmosphere created by the lighting and music. Finally, you noticed the platform set up in the back of the room where two empty thrones sat for the prom king and queen.

“All right! I’m ready to dance now!” Mina cheers once most students had arrived and the DJ, also known as Present Mic, had started to play more upbeat music. You followed her and the rest of the group to the center of the room and jumped right into the action. Time passed quickly as you got lost in the music and dancing, taking breaks every now and then to get something to drink and rehydrate. Never once though did you lose track of Bakugo’s presence. Whether he was on the dance floor, or off to the side talking to one of the others, you always seemed to know where he was like there was some sort of magnetic pull. It didn’t stop you from having a good time, but it made you wonder how much more magical the night would be if you could just steal even a single moment alone with him.

“All right! It’s that time of the night kids!” Present Mic announces later in the evening. “It’s time to announce this year’s prom king and queen!”

The room quiets down and everyone huddles together, feeling the building anticipation over the big reveal. You knew it was only the popular and good looking people that usually got chosen, but you were still excited, hoping that someone from your class might get the chance to wear the symbolic crown or tiara. Present Mic holds up a note that he must’ve gotten from one of the judges and looks down to read the names.

“And the results are in!” he says overdramatically, “Everyone give it up for your king and queen.”

The first name to come tumbling out of the man’s mouth was Bakugo’s, making you freeze up a bit and turn to look at him in shock. Of course he deserved it, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous already of the girl that would get to have the one on one dance with him after being crowned. The noise in the room seemed to fade out as you watched your crush turn and start walking right toward you, suddenly offering you his hand.

“Wh-what?” You didn’t understand, especially since the rest of the girls were suddenly squealing in your ear and patting you on the back.

“He just called both our names, dummy,” the insult comes out as a term of endearment which was normal for Bakugo, but the slight pink blush covering his cheeks was definitely new. He takes your hand into his and you awkwardly follow him up to the platform almost in a daze. You hadn’t even heard Present Mic call your name, but suddenly he was placing a glittery tiara on top of your head and a crown on top of Bakugo’s.

“Are you two ready for your dance?” the teacher asks. Truthfully you weren’t but you find yourself nodding anyway, your mind still trying to catch up with your body.

“You all right?” Bakugo asks, sounding just as uncomfortable as he pulls you into the middle of the room which was now clear of people. You were kind of surprised he was going along with all of this so easily, but before you could think about it any further “tale as old as time” starts to play over the sound system causing your face to heat up in embarrassment. You nod wordlessly again, answering his question. Suddenly he’s pulling you closer, one hand holding your own and the other sliding cautiously to the middle of your back.

For a moment, you are way too caught up with wondering how you’d ended up in such a situation to actually enjoy the way Bakugo starts to gently sway you back and forth to the music. A quick squeeze to your combined hands forces you back to the present and you look up at him nervously. “There you are, princess,” he lets out a short laugh. “I was starting to get worried for a second.”

“P-princess?” You stutter out the nickname. Bakugo’s confidence slips for a second and he averts his eyes, the pink on his cheeks becoming more pronounced.

“Well… it fits the situation, doesn’t it?” he mumbles before glancing up. “We’re royalty now.” Some of the tension leaves your body at his predictable behavior and you let out a small laugh.

“Only for tonight,” You point out, your lips forming a sad smile as you both continue to move across the floor to the music.

“It… uh… it doesn’t have to be,” he blurts out, his eyes continuing to look down.

“What do you mean?” your question comes out sounding breathless and the intensity of his gaze when it meets yours makes your stomach do a flip.

“I mean, this is kind of how I originally pictured prom to go before all those idiots suggested coming as a group.” He was still mumbling a bit but you heard every word.

“You were going to ask me to be your date?” You ask, your voice laced with shock and disbelief. He swallows thickly and then nods his head. The simple gesture fills your heart with happiness and you lean closer into him and tuck your head into his chest. All too soon, the song comes to an end and you’re forced to pull away. You don’t get too far before Bakugo is tugging you back and pressing a warm kiss to your cheek.

“If it’s all right with you,” he says softly while lifting up your hand in his, “I’d like to hold onto this for a little while.” You smile happily and lean forward to return his kiss.

“Bakugo, you can hold onto it for as long as you like,” you tell him honestly. His eyes light up at your words and he looks very much like the prince you had always imagined him to be.

After a moment, a new song began to play and the dance floor filled up with students again. You and Bakugo go back up to the platform to sit in your designated thrones while all your friends crowd around the two of you, congratulating and teasing you both. Surrounded by your closest friends with Bakugo’s hand clutched firmly in your own, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending to your prom night fairytale.

[nishinoya-can-rolling-thunder-me]

Guess Monster

Tendō Satori x Reader

Summary: you catch a certain guess blocker’s eye at the youth training camp that you were invited to help manage

Still getting in the swing of writing for Haikyuu lol

Masterlist

The sound of balls bouncing and zipping by had just become a sound that made up the usual ambiance that echoed through your ears and into your brain. Watching those balls slam down to the ground and rise to the ceiling was also such a sight that had become so normal to your bored gaze that stared on in your position to the side of the small gymnasium as you watched the first years selected for the youth camp continue their warm up besides the two coaches. Though one thing that you couldn’t get ahold of was the antsy red head beside you that stared on with such an intensity that it made a shiver travel through your body. It made every single hair of yours stand on end. Though also embarrassment also took hold as he only did just that. Stood by. You almost had to physically restrain yourself from facepalming at just the thought of knowing that Hinata really and truly did sneak into the youth camp held for these few selected first years to be trained and guided in the gym located on the vast grounds of Shiratorizawa. Not only that, but to be told that he would only merely be a ball boy and nothing else. He would be the one to help wash the jerseys and set them to dry, fix water bottles, and chase after any ball that tried to escape. Though now he helped you keep track of the score of the game between the trainees and Shiratorizawa’s own boy’s volleyball group.

You were merely only a manager of Karasuno’s team that was asked to come on to help take notes of each individual player and keep track of their progress, very much like Kiyoko had taught you to once the two of you had found the groove of being the boy’s volleyball managers and was now teaching Yachi. You were the unlucky one to be offered up to do such a task.

“Hinata...can you stop being weird?” You whispered out sharply to Hinata. Your sharp words only seemed to put a even stronger determined look upon his face as a whistle pierced through the air, you letting out a sigh as you reached a hand to flip the flaps of plastic tat had their bold numbers printed upon them, adding another point to Shiratorizawa’s team.

“What? I’m just being a ball boy.” He almost seemed to proudly announce, causing you to almost turn red from the second hand embarrassment that seemed to take over your senses. How cold someone just be....like that? Seemingly so immune to embarrassment or shame? You knew he felt fear by how he worried of Daichi’s lecture or how he explained the feeling of despair once Mr.Takeda had scolded him with his eloquent words, but that was at least normal and expected. Heck, sometimes you could see embarrassment over take him on the court whenever he would make a fool of himself, but off the court it was like he was immune. Though you had to admit, he was forever evolving with his skills and techniques. So maybe that intense stare upon the court was just a part of the process of evolution, though the blaring whistle sliced through your thoughts. The set was over and done with and now both teams were having a cool down to rehydrate and catch their breaths.

“I have to go do something...” Hinata finally mumbled out before rushing off, you only huffing as you leaned against the sign, watching the other ball boys clean up the court and hand out bottles and towels.

“So! You’re a manager at Karasuno, right?” A voice soon piped up, your gaze slowly and lazily moving to land upon the source. The person in question was now lazily leaned against the score board along side you, red hair spiked upwards and of course had a strange....appearance. That appearance was quite hard to forget. Tendō Satori was a force to be wreckoned with when it came to his guess blocking upon the Karasuno vs. Shiratorizawa match and the middle blocker’s appearance was unforgettable since it was a bit different and you would be lying when you said it wasn’t. You’ve also heard the rumors and the whispers about him too from friends that went to school to Shiratorizawa or other friends from different schools who heard things and whatnot, just horrible gossip that you would listen to and indulge in, but never truly believed a word of it.

But knowing his nickname was the ‘Guess Monster’ sent a shiver down your body. The name was just so...intimidating and terrifying.

“Yes I am, I’m a third year at Karasuno.” You spoke, the silence falling between the two of you. You guess he suspected you to say more, speak more, just something. Though once he realized you weren’t going to say more, he continued on with speaking. Judging by how quick he was able to find the words to continue speaking, it seemed like he had much practice with executing one sided conversations.

“Third year? Would have guessed right, then. You are all...mature and respectful...unlike that shrimp who keeps staring everyone down.” He joked as he shrugged his shoulder and shot a glance over to Hinata who seemed to be pep talking one of the other first years that were actually invited to the youth training camp. It was actually kind of amusing to see Hinata try to cheer up such a large, tall, and stronger looking guy. It honestly almost made you laugh. Almost if it weren’t for the conversation at hand.

“And you’re a third year, but honestly I seemed to find you loud and...disruptive.” You hurriedly quipped back. Just hearing him call Hinata a shrimp just shot a bolt of heat through your body, a flare of anger. It was funny whenever Coach would endearingly say it or anyone of the team. Heck, you didn’t even care if Tsukishima said it, it wasn’t out of character for him to just be sarcastic or a little insulting. Hearing someone you barely knew call him that behind his back to you almost in a....demeaning manor just set a scowl upon your face as your stoic glare moved to rest upon his surprised features.

“Look I’m sorry, I was just trying to be funny.” He said with a laugh as he sheepishly scratched the back of his head as he looked down to you. It seemed like now you finally realized his towering, lanky figure as he allowed himself to straighten up for just a second before leaning back upon the score board. “I was just trying to make you laugh, but that really didn’t work....what a fail.” He said with yet another laugh as he looked to the shiny hard wood floor of the gym, watching the youth trainees being corrected and given advice to help strength their weakness or at least try to improve their weak points. “Kind of expected him to be invited to this thing...did he really break in?” Soon piped up his voice again, you only watching on ahead to the first years, lips beginning to move with your response.

“No he wasn’t...but he somehow got the bright idea to crash the training camp and I guess took on the roll of ball boy in order to not ruin his pride.” You muttered out, gaining a laugh from the other as your eyes watched the determined figure that belonged to Hinata dart after the escaping volleyballs, that strange look upon his face as he concentrated. Though the Whistle interrupted your words that were soon to continue, the coaches of Shiratorizawa calling over their volleyball team for a second match, Hinata now running back to his position on the other side of the score board, Tendo giving a little squinted look to the shorter and younger boy before looking back to you. It almost seemed like he was going to say something, but chose to just jog off instead to start another set with the trainees.

“Wow, you talked to that crazy guess blocker?” Hinata asked, standing at attention as he watched the first serve, eyes watching the ball sip back and fourth until the whistle blew. You nodded your head as you flipped the correct number, now looking over and to Hinata.

“Yes I did, wasn’t really much of a conversation though.” You admitted bluntly. Hinata of course gave a dramatic little huff as another sharp whistle sliced through the conversation, instructing you to once more flip the score board. “What did you expect? Him to relay all his darkest secrets to me?” You sarcastically added, but Hinata was already lost in concentration upon the practice match that went on with him.

The day was long and boring to be quite Frank. Your foot were tired from your constant standing beside that stupid little board and walking back and forth to keep an eye on all the players and of course on Hinata so he wouldn’t make an absolute fool of himself. Though the Guess Monster- or really Tendō had caught your eye many times. He seemed to cast his glances to you after a successful block, almost as in he was making sure you saw it. Then those few times he would totally be off with his intuition he would be checking to see that you didn’t, but you always seemed to catch a glance of his movements and game playing. It was the cliche thing that would happen in those cheesy American hallmark movies where those two people always seemed to be catching each other’s eyes and glances, though you did not think much of it all except for it being a big coincidence at the end of the day as you sling your bag upon your shoulders, bidding everyone farewell as you were prepared to walk back home alongside Hinata and Tsukishima.

“Hey! Ms.Karasuno’s Cool Manager!” Came calling out a voice. There, that red haired, atrange boy was jogging out of the gym and towards you, the two first years looking to you confusingly, though only continued walking forward as you waved them to continue, your bored gaze landing on Tendo, hands clutching onto the strange of your bag that slung over one of your shoulders. “I was wondering if I could get your number? We can maybe hang out sometime? Head out to town together?” He said with a hopefully look upon his face as he looked down to you, though he was only met with silence, the sound of your shoe scuffing up against the sidewalk was the only noise to he heard until finally you went digging into your bag, pulling out a pen before grabbing ahold of his arm and scribbling down a sequence of numbers before placing the pen away.

“Text me anytime...Tendo...” you said, a slight flush upon your cheeks as you shyly tucked a strand of hair behind your ears before turning away. “Tsukki! Hinata! Wait up!” You called to the two first years ahead of you, jogging forward to catch up with them.

“What was that for?” Hinata soon asked as he looked over to you, Tsukki in his own world along side the music that played through his headphones.

“Nothing....I just forgot something and he gave it back, just a silly old pen...”

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Previous chapter || Read on A03 || tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER 8

Details were scattered but I remember Skinner ushered me away from the crime scene. I argued that it was my investigation, he said that there was nothing more I needed to do. I stumbled towards the elevator and saw Byers exit, holding his medical satchel. He placed a hand on my shoulder and I saw him mouth the words: you look terrible. The room felt like it was spinning in slow motion, like the sensation you get when you’re falling in a dream. Delirium had set in. Too bad my one vice was alcohol otherwise I’d swallow an upper to get myself back on course; my liver could hate me later. I rode the elevator down and managed to get out to the curb. I hailed a cab since I couldn’t remember if I drove myself. By the grace of God, and an honest cabbie, I made it home alive.

The sleeping pill did a mediocre job; I felt groggy and sore, hungover minus the whiskey. I rolled over and squinted at the alarm clock. About twelve hours had passed since I left two dead bodies in the precinct interrogation rooms. Afternoon sunlight radiated through my window and I knew I had to get the day started. I found a small bit of food in my pantry to calm my angry stomach and some water straight from the tap to rehydrate. My clothes should probably be tossed in the incinerator but then I would be down one dress shirt. I stripped and stepped into the shower, turning the water as hot as I could stand. It sputtered at first but soon rushed against my chest. I scrubbed my hair and switched to the soap, finally feeling clean for the first time in two days. A layer of grime swirled down the drain. I stood firmly under the spray and let it beat mercilessly against my upper back and shoulders. Hands braced the shower wall and my eyes closed heavy.

Scalding water and steam tried to purify me. I stayed under until the temperature cooled. A deep exhale and I cut the tap, hearing the ancient pipes shudder. I pushed the curtain aside and grabbed the towel from the hook, drying off then wrapping it tightly around my waist. I wiped away the thin layer of fog on the small medicine cabinet mirror above the sink. My reflection was certainly worse for wear. Bruises were now that off-shade of yellow and dark circles carved unappealing lines under my eyes. The shaving foam canister and my straight razor looked lonely on the shelf. I walked into the bedroom and pulled open the dresser drawer to retrieve a pair of boxer shorts and an undershirt. I tossed the towel onto the bed and as I dressed the phone rang from the bedside table.

“This is Mulder,” I answered, reaching for the discarded towel.

“It’s Frohike,” he cleared his throat, “I was trying to reach you earlier but there was no answer.”

“Sorry about that. These sleeping pills pack a wallop.” My voice sounded ragged, like I had swallowed gravel.

“Remind me to get the brand name,” Frohike said. I maneuvered the phone and dried my hair,

“I hope you’re calling with some good news.”

“Good is a relative term, my friend. Byers and Langley did a fine job on Mr. Lodi’s autopsy and came to the conclusion that cyanide was the poison of choice.”

“A cyanide capsule? He did himself in?”

“The poison was definitely ingested but not from a broken capsule, we didn’t find any residue. He might have had something to eat or drink that was laced with it.”

I thought for a moment.

“The water cup. There was an empty cup on the floor in the room when I walked in.”

“There’s those fine detective skills.” Frohike jabbed.

“Sharp as a tack. Although I sure as hell didn’t suspect a mole in the precinct.”

“An inside job. The plot thickens.” His intrigue was so palpable I could taste it through the phone.

“This all has to tie back to Spender somehow,” I began, “Someone higher up was steamed that we were getting too close to solving this case and took out our suspects. There are more pens in the inkwell than I thought.” I picked up the phone and walked to sit on the bed, “Could you find any prints?”

“The doorknob had a myriad including yours and Captain Skinner’s but nothing we could go on. And the only prints on the paper cup belonged to Lodi. Our culprit must have used gloves.”

“He most likely added the poison while at the water cooler. Essentially slipped him a killer mickey,” I sighed heavily, “Did you get to work on Theo?”

“Getting ready to sharpen my scalpel, though I’m sure to find much of the same as we did on contestant number one. When I’m done I’ll send him and Lodi over to Washington General.”

“Alright. I’ll finish up here then hit the precinct.” I hung up and left the phone on the bed then returned to the bathroom sink. My hand hit the faucet right as a sharp loud knock hit my front door. I certainly wasn’t expecting anyone. I really wanted to ignore it but they were persistent. Instinct told me to grab my Browning from the bedside table. I checked the safety and cautiously approached the rapping at my door. To my surprise there was a petite figure in a white uniform on the other side of the peephole. I flipped the lock but kept the chain intact.

“What are you doing here?” I asked through the crack in the door.

“Something happened,” Scully said tentatively and leaned closer, “May we talk inside?” I looked down the hall and closed the door to undo the chain then gently ushered her in. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and quickly looked away as I placed my weapon on a nearby table.

“Scully, what happened?” I questioned, trying to think of what possible reason she had to come to my apartment. It felt different seeing her in her nurse’s uniform and not being a patient. The standard crisp white dress with sharp collar, matching nylons, and patent shoes were a polar opposite to the flattering outfit the last time we met. I then felt her eyes search me and I straightened up.

“Mulder, would you mind getting dressed first?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. I glanced down then nodded and went to the bedroom. Personally I never really bothered with modesty.

“You talk, I’ll listen,” I called as I found a pair of trousers. The sound of her heels soon echoed on the hardwood floor and she hovered near the doorway, careful but curious.

“A body came in last night that washed up near one of the marinas on the Washington Channel. The pathologist was short-handed and I was made conveniently available to assist on the autopsy.”

“Is that out of the ordinary?” I asked as I tucked in my shirt and zipped up.

“The body or the task I was given?” she playfully retorted.

I chuckled. This one is razor sharp.

“I only ask because I thought you worked in the emergency room.”

“My training is versatile,” she countered, inching a little more into my bedroom. “Sometimes I’m pulled in other directions if there’s a need. Also it’s a nice opportunity to learn.”

There was an underlying tone in her voice that she wanted to do more than her position allowed. I could picture her taking charge during the war; delegating to fellow nurses, keeping a cool head, spreading herself thin to help whenever and wherever she could. But fate can give with one hand and take with the other. After the men returned home, a lot of good women were forced out of those opportunities. My sister went through something similar after pulling swing shifts at a shipyard in Boston. So I suppose I’m a little biased.

“Anything strange about the stiff?” I asked, getting my train of thought back on the rails.

“From the license in his wallet we found he drove a cab. I’m surprised you didn’t get a call about it.”

“Honey, thanks to some Grade A sleeping pills I didn’t hear that phone ring until about an hour ago.”

Scully shook her head and continued,

“Well, this poor cabbie was stabbed repeatedly.”

“Could have been a robbery gone wrong,” I offered as I pulled on my socks and shoes, “Was there still cash in the wallet?” She considered the question.

“I can’t remember, I was taking notes on the condition of the body. There were about six deep stab wounds from a medium blade. Standard bloating and decomposition from blood loss and being in the water for a few hours. Certainly looked like a murder to me.”

“Do you mind if I shave?” I asked while pointing towards the bathroom. She raised an eyebrow at my strange interjection. Frankly I was trying to lighten the mood a little, keep her at ease while she recounted events.

“Go right ahead,” her head tilted slightly, “you certainly could use it.” Scully tacked that on as she coyly rubbed her upper arm.

I offered a smirk then turned on the faucet and lathered up. She was within eyeshot, watching and waiting to continue..

“Tell me what happened next.”

“The pathologist and I completed the autopsy and as I left the morgue I was confronted by someone. He asked my name but didn’t give me his. I waited for him to show me an ID or badge but he never did.”

Scully paused and I turned my head to see she had boldly entered the room and took a seat on my bed. I could tell from where I was standing her demeanor changed, her brow furrowed. My focus turned for a moment back to the mirror so as not to slice open my upper lip.

“Scully?” I prompted after a precision scrape.

“Yes...sorry. The man asked if I knew you.”

“What did you tell him?” I asked as I finished an area under my chin.

“I played dumb of course.”

“Smart girl.” I said to myself before splashing water on fresh skin.

“Apparently that was the wrong answer because he grabbed me by the arm and pushed me into the first open room.”

I stepped out of the bathroom, suddenly taking great interest in busting this assailant’s kneecaps when I found him.

“I was warned,” Scully continued, lacing her fingers together, “he said to stay away from you, Mulder. He said that if I was stupid enough to talk to you then he and his associates would come after me for what I know.”

“Describe him,” I said harshly as I moved closer, feeling the remaining drops of water prickle against my cheeks. She closed her eyes for a moment. Those baby blues blinked open and she stared through me, developing a picture of him on the wall.

“Fairly young, maybe late twenties. Brown hair I think...he was wearing a hat. Dark eyes, sharp nose, oddly perfect teeth. His smile was broad and gave the impression of being pleasant, though I could tell he was a sleaze.”

My hand went to the back of my neck to damper the bubbling rage. I couldn’t blow my stack yet. What the hell game is he playing? How much did he know? I ran my hand over my face, collecting moisture then drying my palm on my hip. I needed to get her somewhere safe until I got some more answers. Her gaze met mine and I touched her shoulder.

“Did you drive here or take a bus?”

“The bus. I came straight from the hospital, why?”

“I want to make sure you weren’t followed. We’re going to the precinct.”

“Mulder, no.”

“Scully, listen to me.” But she was already on her feet and heading out of the room.

“I don’t need protection.” She stiffened as I followed her.

“Then why did you come here? You could have easily flipped open a telephone book and given me a ring instead.”

“I was frightened,” her voice broke and she tried to hide it, “In a moment of fear you don’t make wholly rational decisions, but I knew I could trust you.

I stepped closer, moving through a cloud of uncertainty and tenderly cupped her cheek. Scully closed her eyes and softened against my touch. A pang of guilt resonated in my chest, her exhale hummed through closed lips.

“Let’s go.” I said softly.

She nodded and I collected my weapon, my grey fedora, and showed her out. Once in the hallway we walked towards the elevator.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I began before pressing the button, “You are going to take the stairs down and head out the back door, through the alley, and over to the next block. Then take a cab to the 3rd District precinct…”

“Mulder…”

“Look, I don’t care if they know where I live. I don’t want them to follow you home.”

Her lips parted as she tried to say something but I kept going,

“Once you arrive at the 3rd, ask for Melvin Frohike and wait with him until I get there. He might have his colleagues in the lab but don’t worry they’re harmless.”

“What are you going to do?” She asked with concern.

“I’m going down the elevator and straight out the front door, hoping to catch a glimpse of this guy.”

I felt her fingers brush against my hand. To my surprise she lifted her heels and quickly planted a soft kiss on my lips. I held the back of her head and returned the favor.

“Be careful,” she said as we separated.

“You too, angel.” I replied and adjusted my hat with a wink.

[hutchhitched]

Naked, Hungover, and Married

Written by: @hutchhitched​

Prompt 63: Katniss and Peeta who are exes wake up together naked, hungover, and married. [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: M

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays.

_________________

Katniss blinked her eyes open slowly and squinted against the sunlight streaking through the…very unfamiliar bedroom.

 “What the hell?” she grumbled and slapped her hand toward the side of the bed where she hoped she’d find her cell phone. Her head was splitting, and she needed to inhale a gallon of water stat to start the rehydration process. Obviously, she’d had way too much to drink last night.

 “Ow! What the fuck?”

 Spooked out of her mind, Katniss shot upright in bed at the sound of the deep, masculine voice that emanated from under the covers and quickly grabbed the sheet and clutched it to her very exposed, very naked chest. She resisted the urge to glance under the covers. Her stomach sank as she realized she was completely nude and lying in bed with a squirming masculine something or other.

 And if she wasn’t mistaken, that voice sounded really, really familiar. But it couldn’t be. Could it?

 “Shit!” she screeched when Peeta Mellark emerged from the tangled pile of bedclothes and pillows, his blue eyes cloudy with sleep and creases in his skin from where he’d slept with his face pressed into the pillow.

 “Katniss Everdeen?” he mumbled in a gravelly baritone that made her toes curl and tingle. He’d always had a gloriously sexy voice, even when she wanted to claw his eyes out. Most especially when he turned his pouty mouthed, dimpled face to hers and blinked his bluer-than-the-Caribbean eyes at her in an attempt to get what he wanted. “What are you doing here?”

 “I don’t even know where I am!”

 “Stop yelling,” he grumbled and pressed a palm to the spot between his eyebrows. “I have a killer of a hangover.”

 Peeta tossed the covers aside and rolled over so he could sit up. Her mouth gaped open when she realized that, like her, he was completely naked. And his ass. Was. Glorious. Golden skin over plump cheeks so rounded and ripe she wanted to take a bite out of them. She didn’t usually like peaches so firm, but she’d make an exception for—

 “Don’t stand up!” she screeched, intentionally interrupting her very inappropriate train of thought, and threw a pillow at him. Startled, he grabbed it and held it over his crotch but not before she glimpsed his (very impressive, if she did say so herself) morning wood arcing proudly out of a dark blonde thatch of hair between thick, muscular thighs. “Good God. Put some clothes on.”

 If he wasn’t already infuriating, he certainly was when he smirked and ran his gaze over her curled frame hiding under the sheets and blindly groping for her clothes on the floor by the side of the bed.

 “You’re one to talk. Besides,” he added and lowered the pillow so it rested just below the cut of his hips. She couldn’t quite stop herself from glancing at the trail of coarse hair leading from his belly button down to his— “this is my house. I’m not the one naked in a bedroom that’s not mine.”

 She gaped at his ass as he turned and strode across the room to the en suite. Just as he reached the door, he tossed the pillow back toward the bed and entered the bathroom naked as the day he was born. Infuriated at his audacity, she snatched the pillow out of the air and caught a glimpse of her left hand.

 In particular, the ring finger on her left hand. Where a ring graced her finger. Two rings. One a small but beautifully cut diamond and the other—oh shit!—a plain gold band. She was wearing a wedding set.

 “What the fuck?”

 “I thought I told you to stop yelling.”

 Stunned, she tore her gaze away from her hand and gawked at the man standing in the doorway, bare chested and bemused with his long, lean legs half-covered in cutoff sweats and crossed at the ankle. He leaned against the door like he was perfectly at ease. That he was, in fact, used to waking up with naked women in his bed every day of the week.

 And maybe he was. She hadn’t seen Playboy Peeta since back in college, but then again, she hadn’t exactly been spending a ton of time with him since they’d graduated.

 “How the hell are you so calm? I have an engagement ring on. I have a wedding band on!”

 “You’re freaking out.”

 “I am! Join me, won’t you?”

 “Now, why would I want to do that?” he asked and sauntered toward her. The way his abdominal muscles shifted under his skin almost distracted her from his left hand, which he lifted to show—

 “Oh my fucking hell.”

 “Looks good on me, doesn’t it?”

 She sputtered, “B-but th-that’s a wedding ring!”

 “You know, I always told people I was going to marry someone really smart, and you, dear wife, just proved me right,” he said as he plunked down on the edge of the mattress next to her and leaned over to kiss the side of her head.

 “What the actual hell?” Katniss spat and shoved him away from her. “Are you high?”

 “Definitely not high, but I might still be a little drunk.” He stood quickly and swayed a little bit. He stopped and steadied himself with hands out for balance. “Nope. Scratch that. Not drunk but definitely hungover.”

 “You’re insane. I mean, I suspected it before, but now it’s confirmed. You are absolutely nuts.”

 “Thanks for your vote of confidence, but I’m not insane. I am, however, your brand-new husband.”

 Katniss narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Two minutes ago, you didn’t even know why I was here, and now you’re coolly announcing that we’re married. Something doesn’t add up here.”

 “It all came back to me in the bathroom.”

 “You were in there for 45 seconds.”

 “What can I say?” he shrugged and offered an infuriating smile. “Last night was memorable. It didn’t take long for it to all come flooding…”

 He trailed off suggestively, and her mouth fell open. Again. Because seriously. What the fuck?

 “We didn’t do that,” she insisted. “You are disgusting.”

 “Funny. That’s what you said last night right after I cleaned all the, well, you know, off your chest and stomach and from between your legs. You weren’t wrong then either.”

 She started at him, aghast, her mouth hanging open. Memories flickered in erratic flashes, and it wasn’t what she wanted to see. Most were definitely in the vein of what he’d just hinted. Something about him crawling up her body and licking creamy fluid from her belly before moving to her breasts and then devouring her mouth.

 “I’ve got to get out of here. Where the fuck are my clothes?”

 “What?” he asked, mock surprised. “You don’t want your loving spouse to cook you breakfast in bed? It is our honeymoon, after all.”

 She glared at him before biting out, “I. Will. End. You. Where the fuck are my clothes?”

 “You know, if you can’t keep track of your things, maybe you shouldn’t have any.” She raised her face to rip him a new one, but he was dangling her lacy salmon colored tank top from the tips of his long, artistic fingers. She absolutely did not notice the raised veins in his forearms and the size of his palm when she snatched her shirt from him.

 “Can you give me some privacy, please?” she said as primly as possible through her disgust, but he just chuckled and shook his head.

 “You’re priceless. After what we did last night? Playing virginal doesn’t become you, Everdeen.”

 “Yeah, well, if I actually married you, I’m not Everdeen anymore, am I, Mellark?”

 Peeta froze, his eyes wide at her observation, and she took advantage of his surprise to push past him to the relative safety of his bathroom. He didn’t even protest that she’d pulled the sheet from the bed to cover herself when she went.

 A hesitant knock sounded on the door, and she grumbled at him to go away. He repeated his gesture a couple more times before finally growling, “I found the rest of your clothes. At least take them.” She didn’t bother to thank him when she cracked open the door and snatched them from his hand.

 She took her time putting herself back together, long enough for her hands to stop shaking and her heartrate to slow to a slow canter instead of the full-on gallop it had been beating since she woke up next to Peeta Mellark.

 “What the hell happened last night?” she demanded in a harsh whisper. No matter how hard she tried to remember, nothing else came to her for several moments, and then only flashes of a club and the press of bodies and heat and so much alcohol and a really hot man grinding into her on the dance floor. “And this is why you don’t drink more often.”

 When she felt like she had some kind of control over herself, she inched the door open to an empty bedroom. Wadding the sheet into a ball, she tossed it on the bed and scanned the space for her purse and phone and keys. Nothing. They must be in the living room, which meant she couldn’t sneak out the window to avoid seeing that smug bastard.

 She crept down the hall in the direction of what she hoped was the front door. Sounds echoed down the hall, those remarkably like someone cooking, and her stomach grumbled loudly despite her hangover and horror. A sharp sizzle pricked her ears, and she sighed at the scent of freshly brewing coffee and something that smelled distressingly close to thick-cut slices of ham. God, she’d kill for a hunk of cooked pig right now.

 Katniss rounded the corner and glanced furtively around the open room. A small living area, exceptionally neat and beautifully styled, stretched into a chef’s kitchen that held a disheveled, discomfited Peeta with a spatula in one hand and a carton of eggs in the other. When he saw her, he offered a lopsided, apologetic smile.

 “Good morning, officially. I’m making breakfast,” he said and motioned to the barstools on the other side of the island where he was cooking. “It won’t take long.”

 “Oh, uh, ah, I don’t think I can stay,” she stammered and edged to the door by which her purse and shoes sat.

 “Katniss, please,” he asked, suddenly unsure and vulnerable. “I— we—”

 “Very articulate.”

 Peeta had the grace to flush before shoving a riot of blonde curls off his forehead. “Look, Katniss, last night was pretty insane. I agree with that.”

 “Insane, crazy, completely irresponsible, absolutely not what we should have done.”

 Hurt colored his features, and she regretted it for just a second. But then he opened his mouth again.

 “Absolutely what we should have done. We’ve been skirting around each other for years. I, for one, am glad you finally admitted how you feel about me and gave in,” he insisted. “I mean, it’s not what I would have done if we’d been sober, but a quickie elopement is just as good as a big ceremony.”

 She didn’t have words to answer him because, despite understanding every word he said, it seemed like he was speaking a completely different language.

 “Admit how I feel about you?” she scoffed. “I thought that was perfectly clear. I can’t stand you.”

 “That’s not what you said last night.” His tone was stubborn, and his mouth turned down into a frown. “Last night you told me you loved me. That you’ve always loved me since I bought your lunch at the cafeteria that day back in college.”

 “Last night I was blackout drunk! I would have told a monkey I was in love with him.”

 “Katniss,” he started, but she backed away from him.

 “No! I don’t care what you say. I’m not in love with you, and I don’t want to be married to you. We’re not married! Not really. It’s not possible.”

 “But—”

 “Just don’t,” she shouted and grabbed her shoes and purse. “Goodbye, Peeta.”

 And then she was out the door and running. She didn’t really care where. She just needed to be away from those wounded blue eyes and gentle voice that did something to her no matter how much she didn’t want anything to do with Peeta Mellark.

 ****

 The truth was she had loved him at one point. For a brief period during their senior year when she’d given into his charms and slept with him. After he captivated her with his slick words and hooded looks that made way too many other women throw themselves at his feet. She’d been stupid enough to believe him when he told her she was the only one for him, and she’d agreed to be his girlfriend for two deliriously happy months. Until he broke her heart, and she refused to ever speak to him again.

 And it’s not like he hadn’t tried a million times. Peeta had called her, emailed and texted, even shown up on her porch with flowers and some ridiculous present she didn’t give him the satisfaction of opening. She wasn’t going to allow him a chance to hurt her again, not after catching him lip-locked with Cashmere, one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. Not even when the woman herself let Katniss know that the kiss had meant nothing to her and that Peeta was still hers if she wanted. Katniss wasn’t going to settle for anybody’s seconds, even if he’d been hers in the first place. Graduation came just a few weeks after that, and she’d managed to avoid him around town in the years since. Now, at twenty-seven, she didn’t care enough about him to notice he seemed to have a different woman with him every time she glimpsed him in public or at an event where their infuriatingly small circle of friends had invited them both.

 God, she must have been hammered to get anywhere near him last night, let alone marrying him and ending up in bed together.

 She was three blocks from his house before she slowed long enough to reach into her purse where, thankfully, her phone rested. Snatching it out, she ignored the notification on her screen and dialed her best friend. When Gale answered, she breathed a sigh of relief.

 “Hey, Catnip,” he greeted her in his deep voice. Amusement echoed over the phone line, and she wanted to smack him.

 “Thank fuck you answered. Where the hell were you last night when I was, apparently, getting plastered and leaving the club with my arch enemy?”

 “You didn’t seem to think he was too bad last night,” Gale laughed, and Katniss almost hung up on him. Unfortunately, she needed to figure out what had happened because she didn’t remember a damn thing that made sense.

 “Seriously, dude. I woke up naked and in bed with him. I wouldn’t do that if I was in my right mind, so tell me what happened. And also, why didn’t you stop me?”

 “Well, shit, Catnip,” her best friend laughed. “You never could resist that guy, but I didn’t think you’d jump into bed with him after one night back together.”

 “Back together?”

 “You really don’t remember anything?”

 “No,” she mumbled, but something pricked at the edge of her memory. Something about running into the back of a stocky, muscular, strong man who she’d leaned into gratefully. He’d been protective when another guy hit on her lewdly, and they’d started talking. Realized they already knew each other. Decided to catch up. Her discomfort at first because…

 Oh god. Because it was Peeta, but she’d been just tipsy enough to be a little forgiving, and he’d looked amazing in his tight green t-shirt that made his skin glow and his eyes tint toward turquoise instead of aqua. And he’s looked so eager and repentant and his smile wide and his touch so gentle and warm.

 “Well, it was entertaining for the rest of us, anyway.”

 “Glad I could make your night better,” she groused. “Now, spill it.”

 “You disappeared for a little while. Thanks for bailing on my birthday, by the way.”

 “Yeah, yeah. I’ll make it up to you,” she snapped.

 “When you didn’t come back, we got worried and went looking for you,” he explained. “Annie went first and couldn’t find you. Then Finnick took a turn and said he’d caught a glimpse of your back at the bar, but you disappeared before he could make his way over to you. So, I went to track you down, and, when I couldn’t find you, Johanna went on the prowl.”

 “Not Jo,” she groaned.

 “Yeah, she found you cuddled up to Mellark in the back room. You were talking in the corner and then kissing and then—”

 “She didn’t know who he was, so she didn’t try to stop me.”

 Gale huffed an irritated sigh. “Jo didn’t stop you because, when she tried, you told her you were getting reacquainted with your former lover and would she please kindly fuck off.”

 “I’m surprised she didn’t bite my head off.”

 “She did, but lover boy stopped her cold. And when he did, you told him to take you home or lose you forever.”

 “I didn’t misquote Top Gun to him,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t disrespect Goose that way.”

 “Apparently, you did, and then you left with him. We tried calling. I would have come and gotten you, but you only answered once, and you were absolutely insistent that you wanted to be with him.”

 “Gale,” she said as patiently as she could, “I was clearly drunk. Maybe not the best time to trust my judgment.”

 “You weren’t drunk.”

 “I woke up hungover!”

 “I paid yours and Peeta’s bar tab. A total of two drinks each.”

 “Then… Oh, good night, nurse,” she gasped. “I remember now.”

 “Well, then fill me in. I wasn’t there for that part of it,” he said, and she could practically hear him roll his eyes.

 “I had a flask in my purse. I stashed it in case you all wanted to stay longer than I wanted to pay for drinks, and I pulled it out and started drinking.” She gulped and groaned, “I came onto him. Asked him to take me to his place. That I wanted to apologize for not listening to him back in college.”

 “And you woke up naked with him? Uh…”

 “No, it wasn’t his fault. I wasn’t that drunk, and he was soooooooo… Dammit, he was so sweet, so apologetic. And then he kissed me.”

 “I don’t really think I need to hear the rest of it, do you?” Gale muttered.

 She snapped her mouth shut. She didn’t need to justify herself or share what had happened between Peeta and her the night before. Suffice it to say that she’d shed her clothes willingly, and they’d both slammed a lot of alcohol.

 “Shit. I’ve got to go.”

 Katniss dropped her phone back in her purse and turned in her tracks. She took a few hurried steps and then ran. She was out of breath by the time she stopped at his stoop, but she knocked while she sucked air into her lungs. It only took a few seconds for him to open the door, and when he did, she wanted to reach for him.

 Hands twitching, she stated, “We’re not really married.”

 “No.”

 “But we slept together.”

 “Well, I didn’t get a lot of sleep—”

 “Peeta!”

 He grinned sheepishly and nodded. “You were kind of insistent about the sex part. I didn’t mind so much.”

 “If I remember correctly, I was very enthusiastic about it.”

 “Yeah.”

 “To be fair, I don’t remember much.” Peeta’s face fell, and she reached out to touch his hand. “But I remember wanting to. It’s the rings that don’t make any sense.”

 He huffed and averted his eyes. Staring over her head at the tree in the front yard, he mumbled, “You wanted to see them. It’s the set I bought when we were in college. I wanted to propose to you, but we’d only been together for a little while. It didn’t matter to me. I already knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, so I bought them and thought I’d bide my time until, until…”

 “Until you kissed Cashmere.” It still hurt to say, regardless of the years that had passed.

 “Until she kissed me,” he protested. “I was telling the truth about that. She came onto me. It surprised the hell out of me, and I was pushing her away when you caught us. I tried telling you that for weeks, but you wouldn’t listen, and then graduation and I didn’t know where you went and—”

 “And I wouldn’t answer any of your attempts to get ahold of me.”

 “Your friends wouldn’t help me, and then I got my job and moved. It wasn’t until I came back last year that I knew how to find you, and you obviously hated me by then. I figured I might as well give up and take what I could get.”

 “That was a lot of women, Peeta.”

 “It might have looked like a lot of women, but none of them held a candle to you. There were so many because none of them got a second date.”

 Katniss wiggled her fingers and then slipped the wedding set off and held them out to him. “You should have these back.”

 His shoulders drooped, and he nodded when she placed them in his palm. He’d already taken his band off. His left hand was bare.

 “If it helps, I thought they looked really good on you,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.

 She smiled gently and took a step off the porch. As she backed away, she called, “Not ready for an engagement, but a date might be nice.”

 His head popped up, and she could see his hopeful gaze from halfway across the yard. “Really?”

 “You free tonight?”

 “Yes!”

 “Let’s try that bar from last night again. This time I’ll introduce you to my friends. 9:00?”

 His smile stretched across his face, and he lifted his fist in triumph.

 “I’ll be there!”

 Katniss turned then and allowed herself a satisfied grin. It wasn’t every day you woke up married and ended up with a date.

[edwardsmate4ever]

The Phone Call

Note: This outtake is a companion piece to Chapter 4 of Visions Interrupted, but it can be read as a standalone too. What happened when Bella called Rosalie in Breaking Dawn?

 Read it on AO3 or FFN, or just read it here! 

The Phone Call

Emmett POV

   “I might be...pregnant.”

 I listened to Edward get on the line, his voice panicked as he questioned Carlisle whether such a thing was even possible.

 Bella’s pregnant? Damn, son, what?

 First thing that crossed my mind was whoa! Edward must have some super spunk or something. Was he some kind of undiscovered sex god? No fucking way. That kid was a hundred and he never even kissed a girl until Bella. He had absolutely nothing on me. If anyone was a sex god; it was definitely Emmett McCarty Cullen. This whole concept was kinda blowing my mind. Maybe Edward didn’t have to be a sex god, maybe any male vampire could do it. Maybe I had super spunk too, and if Rosalie were human… Could I have done that to her?

 But Rosalie wasn’t human, and I couldn’t knock her up. A baby was the only thing she ever wanted in the world. And now, of all people, Edward was getting one. My girl was not going to be happy about this. Turning around to look where she stood behind my seat on the couch, I saw a motionless statue. Her face was a mask, but her stillness told me everything I needed to know. This wasn’t just angry Rosalie. I knew how to handle angry Rosalie. No, this was the face that scared me. This was jealousy and rage and hurt all rolled into one, and I never knew exactly what to do when she got like that. My girl was roiling[1]  inside, and when she came back to herself, she was liable to bolt any second.

 When he hung up the phone, Carlisle turned to look at the four of us. The look of panic on his face rocked me to the core. This man was unshakeable, and here he was, completely at a loss for what to do. The others felt it too, and my anxiety spiked with all of theirs before I felt Jasper try to calm us. He wasn’t that effective though since he was just as fucked up over this revelation. We all stared at each other for a few moments before Rosalie sprang to life. She crossed the room, heading for the door. “I’ve got to get Esme,” she murmured before taking off at a run. I was pretty sure that was an excuse. I knew she was hurting and she wanted to be alone. But I also knew that even though she always said she wanted to be alone, sometimes she actually wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything would be all right. I was pretty sure this was one of those times, so I followed her out the door.

 I caught up to her quickly, and when I was a few yards away from her, she turned and fell into my arms. I clutched her to me, wrapping her up in one of my famous bear hugs. Pretty sure I’d hugged everyone in my family this way at least once when they felt really low, so I knew from experience it would help. And it did; her body went slack against mine, and she wept tearlessly on my shoulder. I buried my face in her hair, my own still heart in my throat.

 Having her own family was what Rosalie was longing for when she died, and that desire held strong into her second life. How many times had I desperately wished I could give her everything she wanted? It was damned hard knowing I could never fill that hole in her life, that it would eternally hurt for her. The fact that Bella was going to experience what she so desperately wanted was devastating. She already didn’t like Bella for choosing to give up her humanity. On top of that, now she was going to get the only thing Rosalie ever wanted and could never have.

 Pulling back from her, I swiped away her phantom tears with my thumbs and brushed her hair away from her face, bringing my hands back around to gently cup her face. “Rosie,” I whispered. “Let’s leave. We don’t have to stay here. We don’t have to watch.”

 My girl inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, steadying herself, and I could feel the last of the tension leave her body. “Yes,” she said. “That’s perfect. I think we should leave immediately. They’ll understand if we disappear.”

 I nodded. They all knew what this would do to Rosie. They’d probably encourage us to go. Crooking an eyebrow at her, I offered, “Denali?”

 “At first, yes,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. “But then let’s find a place we’ve never been and go there.”

 “I love it,” I assured her. This was going to be awesome. Get away from all of this, just the two of us. As much as I enjoyed Bella’s presence in our family, the girl brought a lot of drama with her everywhere she went.

 As she gave me a shaky smile, her phone began to ring. It was a jarring and unexpected sound at that moment, and it startled us both. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and read the caller ID on the screen.

 “Edward?” she exclaimed. “Why the hell is Edward calling me?” She sounded pissed off, and frankly, I kinda felt that way too. Unfortunately, it wasn't that weird to imagine Edward rubbing this in her face in some way. Sometimes that teenage assholery just came out of him, I think without him even realizing it. At least, not until it was too late. Edward was capable of some pretty cruel shit, but I didn’t think he would sink that low. This was probably really important if he was calling her now, when he knew goddamn well she would be upset.

 “Aren’t you going to answer it?” I prodded.

 She huffed. “I can’t imagine I want to hear anything he has to say.”

 “Just answer it, Rose. If he’s calling you now, it has to be important.”

 Knowing I was right and hating it, she flipped open the phone, pressing it to her ear, and begrudgingly answered, “Hello?”

 “Rosalie?” The voice was definitely not Edward’s. “It's Bella. Please, I need you to help me.”

 She wanted Rosalie’s help? Our gazes locked, and my girl’s eyes were just as wide and shocked as mine were. “What do you need, Bella?” she asked warily.

 Bella’s voice was hurried and whisper-quiet. I had to really focus to hear her end of the call. “Please, Edward’s afraid. He thinks it's bad, that it’s going to hurt me. He wants to kill our baby. He'll do it too—Carlisle is on his side. I want to keep it, Rosalie. The baby is good—I feel it. I know I can count on you to understand.”

 Rosalie’s eyes widened even larger which I really didn’t think was possible. But her eyes never left mine. I watched as fear turned to resolve, pushing aside all doubt and confusion. “Yes, Bella,” she said firmly. “I'll help you. You can count on me.”

 “Thank you,” Bella whispered with reverence, then she quickly said, “I've got to go," and the line went dead.

 Slowly, Rosalie closed her phone and slid it carefully back in her pocket. Our eyes were still locked and I'm sure my doubts showed in them. I didn't like this. It wasn't going to be good for my girl's psyche. “Rosalie, we were leaving...”

 “I know, Emmett. But weren’t you listening to Carlisle and Edward’s phone conversation a few minutes ago?”

 I shrugged and shook my head. “No, I was distracted by Edward’s super spunk.”

 She rolled her eyes like a champ, but a smile crept onto her face. She couldn't resist my dumb jokes; no one could. It was my superpower.  She quickly sobered though. “Seriously, Emmett. They were talking about aborting it. They think it’s a demon or something. They want to kill that baby, and I won’t stand by and let it happen. Bella wants me to help her keep it. She knows I’m not afraid to stand up to them. I won’t let them strong-arm her.”

 “But babe, you hate her.”

 “We’re not friends, and I don’t like her. But this isn’t about Bella and me, or about me trying to get back at Carlisle and Edward, this is about standing up for someone who can’t stand up for themselves. Standing up for something I wholeheartedly agree with, and she knows that. She didn’t call me because we’re BFFs. If she wanted that, she would have called Alice. What Bella wants is to keep her baby, and she knows I will protect this baby at any cost.”

 “But Rosie, what if this isn’t really a baby?” I tried reasoning with her. “I mean, I don’t know if a human and a vampire can have a real baby.”

 Rosalie shrugged. “If Bella thinks it is, that’s good enough for me.”

 I was really afraid this whole experience was going to break my girl, but she was committed. I knew better than to think she would be swayed. Still, I tried one last-ditch effort. “Edward will fight you. Carlisle will too.”

 “No, they won't, because I have you to protect me.”

 “Of course you do, babe,” I said and wrapped her up in a hug so she wouldn’t see my face ‘cause I wasn’t so sure I wanted to fight them on this. I thought they were probably onto something with this whole monster thing. No way did that petrified, rehydrated vampire spunk create a baby like Rosalie and Bella were thinking it would be. Edward’s spunk was from 1918 and vampified! That can’t be a good thing.

 “Come on. Let's tell Esme,” Rosalie said, pulling away and grabbing my arm, unaware that I was having a crisis of morality over here. “She'll be on our side.”

 Only I wasn't so sure I was on her side. As we ran to the cottage, I did my best to compartmentalize my emotions. I had to put the scared and nervous feelings in a box, and pull out the strong and stoic bodyguard persona. I wasn’t used to covering up my emotions. No point with an empath in the house.

 Empath, telepath, fortuneteller—all the gifteds thought they owned the place. And the worst part was that the two of us and Carlisle and Esme encouraged their egos by being lazy and relying on their gifts too much. Me and Rosie felt like second-class citizens in our own family a lot of the time. That was one of the reasons why we honeymooned so often and for so long—it was just more relaxing not having to watch everything we said, or did, or felt, or thought even.

 Now, instead of getting away and feeling every fucked-up emotion that Rose had every right to feel, she was going to have to gracefully face it all head on. Although, I supposed it was possible there really was a baby inside Bella, and if Rosalie was able to help Bella keep it, maybe Bella would let her help raise it. And that was it—the light bulb moment. I knew then that was the reason Rosalie agreed, as painful as her emotions were. Because in the end, there was a chance Rosalie would get her wish, the baby she always wanted. Even if Bella had to die for her to get it. And I was going to have to stand by and support them, no matter what happened, whether it sat well in my stomach or not. I loved Rosie and only wanted her happiness. After the circumstances of her human death, she needed to be able to trust me fully if our relationship was ever going to work, and I always told Rosalie I’d do anything for her. But this? This was tough to swallow and went against everything my head was telling me was right. My head knew this was wrong, but my heart was dedicated to my Rosie, and I would stand by my vow to give her the world, even if I didn’t like it.

 The cottage was in sight and Esme stepped out to meet us, a smile on her face that quickly faded as she took in our dark expressions.

 “What’s going on?” she asked, worry clouding her normally easy tone.

 Rosalie just laid it out on the table. “Bella’s pregnant, Edward wants to kill it, but she wants to keep it.”

 Esme’s mouth dropped open. “Pregnant? How?” Then she gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Oh! You don’t think she and Jacob…”

 “Wow, Esme. I’m surprised you took it there,” I praised her, holding my hand up for a high five, which she did not return, leaving me hanging.

 “You’re worse than Emmett. Too many soap operas and reality shows,” Rosalie teased her. “But seriously, no, Edward’s the father. He and Carlisle want to take it out of her. But she called me, Esme. Bella stole Edward’s phone and called me when she had a few minutes alone. She asked me to help her protect it. She's afraid of what they'll do.”

 Esme gasped again with shock and she looked like she might faint if that were possible. But when I saw that same resolve I saw in Rosalie’s eyes forming in Esme’s face, I knew Esme was on ‘our’ side. She was thinking baby, not monster, just like Rosalie. The possibility that it was anything other than a baby probably never even crossed her mind.

 “Will you help her?” Esme asked Rosalie.

 “I told Bella I would, and I will. It's her choice, not theirs, and I’ll fight for her right to carry this baby. Will you help me?”

 Esme stood up straighter, her chin jutting forward. “Of course I will.”

 “Do you think you can convince Carlisle not to abort?”

 “I do.” No hesitation. Of course not. Carlisle would do anything for her, just like I was doing for Rosie.

 “Perfect. We have to act like nothing is up when we get back to the house. Edward doesn’t know she asked for help—it was a covert move. We have to act like there’s nothing amiss.”

 “No problem.”

 Apparently, I wasn’t going to be consulted. It was clear that my opinion didn’t matter. They never once even looked at me as they plotted. I was a man, so I had no say in this. I was only needed as a shield, and that’s what I’d be. Anything to make Rosie happy, to get her the only thing she ever wanted. What kind of mate would I be if I didn’t? Still, my conscience was eating at me, not sure what this thing was going to end up doing to Bella. She was pretty fragile. What if she ended up dying? What would that do to my brother? Would he hate me forever for standing by my mate? This shit was fucked up, and the only thing clear to me was how long we’d been gone.

 “Ladies,” I interrupted. “We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while now. We were only supposed to be telling you what happened and bringing you back. The phone call took some time.” I didn’t mention Rosalie’s breakdown, and she shot me a grateful look.

 “Well, if anyone asks, we’ll say I got upset, and you two had to talk me down. That sounds like a plausible explanation for why we’ve been gone for a while, doesn’t it?” Rosalie and I both nodded. “Good, let’s go then.” With that, the three of us raced off to the main house to face whatever came next, bound to protect what some of our family was bent on destroying.

 Extra special thanks to @palmofafreezinghand for being an awesome beta for this and VI

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotted Memory

Somewhere out there

Beneath the pale moonlight

Someone's thinking of me

And loving me tonight…

Chapter 14 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Alex and Augustus

Meet Me Halfway

John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

Location Unknown

18 hours ago

He thought he was dead. He thought they were going to kill him. He wished they would, just to end the suffering. But he also wished they wouldn't. He had greater plans, he still wanted to enjoy his life. And it looked like Nero granted half his wish, while depriving him of the other half. He's going to live the rest of his years in hell.

He couldn't stop thinking about that song, he lay flat on the ground, feeling weak, powerless and defeated.

If I lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

He couldn't feel a thing but he knew he was being transported somewhere. Red flashes filled his eyes as he slowly slipped away from the conscious world.

~

2 Seconds.

A single drop of water plopped on the cold floor where he laid every 2 seconds. It was getting annoying, but he thanked it for actually waking him up.

Soap struggled to get up and forced himself to do so, grunting in pain as the muscles and bones of his body reacted to his sudden movements. Enduring all the pain, he gasped and got up, moving to the direction of the only ray of light from a crack in the ceiling.

He limped but he had hope, exhaling with excitement as the light got closer every step he took. Then clang! He hit his head on an iron bar. He's in a prison cell, deep underground.

"Shite." he cursed, dropping his knees on the ground, his energy already ran out and he felt thirsty.

"That's freshwater dripping down there." An unknown voice emerged from the darkness, Soap wanted to believe he's hallucinating, but an old figure emerged from the shadows. His hair mostly greyed out and it was long enough that Soap believed he'd been here for far too long.

"The name's Jack. And I suggest you rehydrate. I've been here long enough that you could trust that it's safe." he suggested. His tone was strict but helpful and Soap knew he's trustworthy. They're both prisoners and as the saying goes: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend"

"So… uh Jake. What brings you to this dark and gloomy place?" Soap asked, his voice was barely audible but he was heading straight to the dripping freshwater.

"Turns out our friend Nero doesn't want me dead yet. He couldn't pry any information from me. I'm CIA, literally trained half my life to keep information away. He should've just killed me when he got the chance." He replied.

"So, that means he's going to get something out of you too…" he added, Soap looked worried, he didn't undergo some torture training and hes afraid of what Nero wants from him.

"Look kid, I know you're worried. That's why we won't let that happen. Okay? I have a plan." Jake patted Soap's shoulder, it still hurts from all the stomping and the tossing around but he knew he didn't mean it.

"So… CIA. Guess you crossed paths with Alex." Soap asked, his low accent echoed across the dark cage.

"Yeah. Alex. He was like my son, trained him and assisted him all throughout his CIA Career."

"He kinda disobeyed orders by joining the good side which looked bad in the eyes of the higher ups." Soap reported.

"Hm… It's very unusual of him to not follow orders, unless he believes it's for a better cause." Jack supplied to which Soap nodded, agreeing Jack's assumption.

"It was a good cause. Sacrificed himself for the greater good. Miraculously made it out, but lost his leg in the process." Soap continued, updating the old man about his protege, he's actually glad he did as he could feel the man's mood rising from grumpy prisoner to someone a little less grumpy.

"He had good morals, that kid. He could go far with that attitude… I just hoped that falling in love would not be his downfall… just like what happened to me…" he muttered. Soap didn't make out the last sentence so he assumed it was his own thoughts leaking out of his head. He didn't bother asking again.

The iron doors opened and a new patch of light opened. Jack looked at Soap with determination and nodded.

"Looks like it's showtime, sharkbait." Soap nodded noting the Finding Nemo reference at these trying times.

Jack was right. They had a practice of how to handle prisoners for interrogation. A few stomps, handcuffs, sack on the head and push you if you don't cooperate. Soap had to go through the whole thing, and as far as he knows, Jack must have gotten the key.

He limped his way to the interrogation room, buying enough time for Jack to blindly find the keyhole from the cell. He tried fighting back but the taser sticks were already giving him a bad time.

Just as Jack described, the interrogation room consisted of a dentist chair and a television, his captors were beside him preparing orders from Nero on the screen.

Soap squirmed his way out of the chair, trying to be convincing that he had no idea what's going on.

"Stop squirming! Tell us where the girl is… or I'll take a wild guess and destroy your base instead." Nero yelled. His voice was low, like it ran through a voice changer.

"Sod off…" Soap spat and squirmed again, receiving a shock from the taser. He groaned as tendrils of electricity ran through his body shaking him almost unconscious.

"Lower the voltage or he won't respond! Dumbasses! We need something from him!" Nero yelled at his henchmen.

"So… MacTavish…22nd Parachute Regiment, S.A.S., Now Task Force 141… Skilled in combat, Sniper and Demolitions… You know a proper brainwash would help me get the code from you right?" he mused.

"FOUR!" Soap roared from the top of his lungs, panting after he yelled.

"Four? What the fuck are you talking about?" Nero asked, looking confused. Addition to that, the ground shook and made everyone else in the room wonder.

"What's going on?" Nero asked.

"What? we're under attack? By who? How?" Soap's ears could hear the distress from their leader and from the looks of it, 141 already found him making it easier for him and Jack to get out of this hell hole.

"Augustus is gone? They're going to pay! Okay boys kill this man now. We have to send them a message!" Nero yelled angrily and the tv turned to static.

Meet me Halfway

Francine "France" Winters

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Base - Briefing Room

"We're being pressured to capture Nero. With our base compromised, the Board would now decide for our force's future. Simon Riley is now researching Augustus' burner phone, if we're lucky enough, it could lead us to our next clue." Shepherd calmly informed the force about the status. He looked in distress but he had to keep pushing forward, to end this warfare.

"Some of Nero's forces are already in New York. It turns out he could command the brainwashed civilians to deploy EMP blasts but recon noticed that he could only command a few at a time. This means without the IP address, he is still powerless and trying hard." Shepherd added.

"I want you all to always be ready for an all out attack on Nero. Let's prove to the board that we're the best one for the job." He muttered and dismissed everyone. France decided to stay in the briefing room and let the quiet consume her thoughts.

"You okay?" A reassuring hand held her shoulder. She knew it was Gary and tears started to fall from her eyes.

"I… I can't stop worrying about him, Roach." She croaked and gave Roach a very pained stare. She actually missed John's presence even after being together for a short while, she felt that they shared a lot of common things together, the strive to become better, the response to danger even off duty and the determination to achieve a goal. Those were her traits that he also had, these same traits that made him like her despite his cocky first impression.

"Let's help out Ghost track that son of a bitch Nero down. And maybe it'll lead us to him." Roach assured them as they both stood up and went to Research.

"How… how can you still be so sure that he's okay?" she sobbed.

"The dogtags." Ghost interjected while typing furiously on the computer.

"If Soap was dead, he should've shown us his tag. That would cripple some of our Force's focus and would lead to his success in invading and capturing Samantha." Ghost continued, he made sense and France almost smiled with the two's support. Instead, she just breathed out and helped Ghost.

"So, have you traced each source?" France asked Ghost as she also started furiously typing codes and strings of data input.

"Yes, they're really sneaky with the encryption, but I keep on getting pings at one location before it spreads in different places." he explained.

"The nearest signal tower. Every packet almost goes through there. You see that?" France pointed at the screen.

"Yeah I do. Let's start tracing that source." Ghost muttered and the map already pinged the tower's location.

"Bingo." they both whispered and cheered, hugging each other as a sign of success. France felt Ghost's tight hug and felt something off about the guy, then he actually removes half of his mask and pouts his cheek close to hers.

"I…. uh… I'm sorry" Ghost shyly said as France pushed him away and felt awkward at the situation. Gary just stood there in shock as Price entered the room.

"What's the news?" he asked, looking at the three.

"We found him, Sir." Ghost cleared his throat and put back his mask.

"Well, bloody hell. Let's go then!" he said as they all ran towards the exit and prepared themselves. France didn't have the time to think about the events earlier as she was still worried about Soap's safety. She hopes that whatever lies in that place would give her an answer.

~

"FIRE!" Captain Price yelled as snipers quickly shot the guards surrounding the icy fortress. The gulag housed people that the world didn't want but couldn't kill, and she hoped that John MacTavish was on that list.

Danger close explosions crippled both attacking and defending forces as Price roared at Shepherd to be careful. France gulped as she saw a very open field that they're dropping in on and knew for a fact that she's very open and weak at these positions.

Her mind raced, looking at every angle. Tangos were everywhere carrying different kinds of weapons. With minimal angles to hide on, the force, led by Roach aggressively advanced to the Gulag, dodging heavy fire, grenades and RPG Rockets. As soon as they found the tunnel leading deep into the Gulag, France already felt comfortable. This was her playing zone and no one's going to stop her from getting into Nero.

The way in was almost clear, no enemies were against them but instead they ran further into the Gulag. Something was off.

Gunfire was heard deep into the Gulag and as soon as the team reached the control room, Ghost already did his magic. Opening gates, looking at the cameras and defending their six. The masked man helped them further advance into the Gulag.

"Nero's not here…" Ghost said.

"How so?" Price angrily muttered.

"He never set foot in this place. He only uses a television to communicate."

"Bloody hell. Now what?"

" I see two heat signatures behind that wall."

Roach quickly planted a c4 breach and as soon as it exploded Francine pounced at the closest person, raising her fist and looking at its eyes to see the punch go through.

Blue eyes. Those shades of blue. France stopped his fist as tears started to well from her eyes, dropping some on his bare chest.

"John…" she whimpered and smiled.

"Fra.." she didn't let him finish, she kissed him. She didn't care what everyone else thought. The gunfire and explosions suddenly felt nothing to her. She didn't care how John's lips tasted, all she cared about was that he's alive and she's on his arms.

Extraction quickly followed as Shepherd's forces already did a lot of damage on the old fortress. They barely got out just in time for the building's inevitable collapse but they're safe.

Next Chapter : Secret Alliances

Notification Squad my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

[honey-dewey]

The Unbearable Pain of Life Itself

Pairing: FtM Trans Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 2,385

Warnings: Frankie’s in pain from his period. Lots of tears, one mention of blood, nausea and vomit, and boy oh boy I cannot seem to write Frankie without making him cry. 

I just want an excuse to write the reader comforting Frankie okay? He’s had a hard day because of his period and all he wants is cuddles! Am I projecting? Yes! Do I feel any shame at this point? No!

Permanent taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

You knew Frankie woke up feeling like shit the second you rolled over in bed. How? Because he hadn’t left you coffee before leaving. 

Should that be a sign of health? Not really. But whenever you didn’t wake up next to your boyfriend, or cuddled up on top of him more accurately, he left you a cup of coffee and a post-it note with a heart on it as a way to say ‘I love you’ when he left early for work. 

Sitting up and rubbing your eyes, you listened intently for any sign of your boyfriend throughout the house, wondering if he’d only just woken up and needed something. He wasn’t in the kitchen, as you’d originally thought. No, if he was, there would’ve been more crashing around and the distinct smell of coffee, considering he needed almost three cups before he was functional. But instead of a clumsy, sleepy Frankie, there was nothing. No usual cup waiting for you on the nightstand, no goodbye text or note from Frankie that he usually left whenever he had to leave for work early. 

Flinging the covers off you, you realized exactly what was plaguing Frankie and why his normal morning routine had gone out the window, sympathy immediately flooding you as you crawled over the blood stain that was slowly drying on the sheets. 

Slowly stripping the bed of the sheets and blankets, you headed into the kitchen, finding a half made pot of coffee and clear evidence that Frankie hadn’t been in the right headspace when he left for work. The bottle of knock off midol that worked just as well as the name brand shit was sitting next to the coffee pot, Frankie’s truck keys were still on the key hook, and he’d somehow managed to leave both his glasses and his hat at home. His birth control pills were sitting beside his empty coffee mug, the ring of spilled coffee making you wince as you put the mug in the sink. 

You sighed. Today was going to be long. 

All morning, you texted Santiago, who worked with Frankie and had picked him up that morning. According to Santi, Frankie was a mess, slowed by his pain and almost losing his meager breakfast multiple times. 

Eventually, you two reached a conclusion. Santiago couldn’t make Frankie go home and rest. No one could. Well, no one except for you. 

Around lunch, maybe five hours later, when you knew he’d be at his worst as the pain pills wore off, you scooped up the midol bottle and Frankie’s keys, getting into his truck. It was a bit bigger than your car, but was familiar territory for you all the same. 

Driving out to Frankie’s work, you worried about him so much you almost crashed. He very rarely got his period, considering the pills he was on and the extensive hormone changes he’d been through. But every six months, it was hell on earth for a week. He had every symptom under the sun, and they were all horrible. He was essentially bedridden for seven terrible days. Most times, he tried to power through it, but he couldn’t fight himself for very long. 

Pulling up to the building, you didn’t even bother locking the truck as you walked through the front doors. 

Santiago was with Frankie in the small break room, Frankie’s palms pressed to his eyes in an attempt to block out the headache-inducing lights. 

“Hon?” You murmured, crouching in front of Frankie’s bent form. “Oh honey, c’mere.” 

Frankie surged forward, blindly falling into your open arms. He shook, body trembling with pain, core pulling tight in regular intervals. 

“It’s okay,” you comforted, smoothing up and down his back. “I know, Frankie. Let’s go home, okay?”

A tiny whimper spurred you up, you supporting Frankie’s right side and Santiago coming over to support Frankie’s left as you headed back towards the front doors. 

When he was finally in the truck outside, Santiago helped you buckle him in before stepping back and waving. You waved back, handing Frankie a water bottle and the midol. “Two more Frankie.” 

He nodded, taking the pills and leaning back, breathing rhythmically, his left hand clutching your right. It wasn’t wisest to drive the truck with only one hand, but for Frankie, you bent the rules. 

Getting him into the house was a trip. It took twenty minutes due to the cramps and the headache and the God forsaken nausea, but he was finally breathing heavy on the couch, near tears but at least lying down. 

You wordlessly grabbed a few blankets and began to help Frankie out of his work clothes. He didn’t say anything or move much, only slowly thumbing over your wrist whenever it came near his hands and sleepily blinking at you as you draped the soft blankets over his body. You grabbed a heating pad, warming it in the microwave and placing it between Frankie’s hips. “Sleep,” you murmured, kissing his forehead and poking his nose. “It’s soup for dinner. Want a documentary?” 

Frankie nodded, the pills and the exhaustion from a night of sleeplessness finally crashing down on him and causing him to flicker in and out of sleep as you set up a few episodes of Our Planet to play. He liked the ocean ones the most, so you made sure they were first as you walked away from his slumped form. You slowly headed towards your office, fully intent on getting a few hours of work in before clocking out early. 

Two hours later, you sighed, leaning back from your computer and running your hands over your face. The documentaries in the background had been too distracting, so when you took a break to reheat the heating pad and check on Frankie, who was still asleep, you grabbed your headphones before shutting yourself back in your office. As you tugged said headphones off while scrubbing over your ears, you heard it. Sobbing. 

Immediately abandoning everything, you raced out of the office and into the living room, where Frankie was laying, collapsed on the floor in tears, shaking violently and hiccuping on his own breaths as he cried. 

“Frankie!” You fell to your knees, checking him over frantically. When you finally concluded that nothing was broken or hurt, you gathered him up in your arms, rocking slowly back and forth on the uncomfortable kitchen hardwood. “What’s wrong? Is it the cramps? The headache? Are you okay?” 

Frankie shook his head, still sobbing. “You-“ he stuttered, breath shuddering. “You weren’t. I thought. You were gone!” 

You stopped breathing, unable to exist beyond the pain in Frankie’s words. He hadn’t seen you, didn’t know where you’d gone, and for all he knew, you’d left the house completely. “Oh Frankie. I would never,” you breathed, smoothing over his hair. His hands, those damn shaking hands, gripped tightly at your shirt, as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

“Frankie, darling,” you said, feeling a full body chill racing across his skin and knowing his body was swinging wildly from feverish and freezing. “Let’s go have a bath.” 

Frankie didn’t object, allowing you to help him up and lead him to the bathroom. He was quiet, watching as you filled the tub with water and epsom salt. You left for a minute to grab a glass of cold water before hurrying back to the bathroom, not wanting to leave Frankie for any longer than you had to. 

The entire time you and Frankie lounged in the tub together, your back against his chest, he was calm. Much calmer than he’d been earlier, so you could only assume the pills were starting to touch his pain. 

Eventually, after both yours and his fingers had turned pruney and Frankie smelled like epsom salt and lavender soap, you hauled him out of the tub. He yawned, grinning sleepily as you handed him a warm towel and his favorite old pyjamas. So yes, the pills were finally working if Frankie was actually smiling. 

“Nap time?” He asked as he shuffled after you into the living room. 

“Snack time,” you corrected, grabbing one of the everything bagels Will had dropped off the other day and slicing it. “At least half of this, and then we can nap.” 

Frankie pouted, but waited patiently for you to toast and butter the bagel. Usually, he insisted on a load of cream cheese, but his stomach wouldn’t be able to handle it right now. Hell, you even were hesitant to use too much butter. 

You made yourself a bagel as well, also only using butter. When both were done, you and Frankie cuddled up on the couch and continued the documentary he’d been watching earlier. It was about sharks, something Frankie was surprisingly eager to watch. He absently ate the required half a bagel before he slumped against your side and then scooted down so he could lay his head in your lap. You smiled, humming Billy Joel and eating the other half of his bagel, knowing he probably wouldn’t. 

About halfway through the Disney nature Oceans documentary, you felt Frankie shift. He rolled to his side, then to his back, and then sat up and bolted for the bathroom. 

You paused the TV, following after Frankie with matching urgency. As he threw up the half a bagel he’d eaten, you rubbed his back, just waiting for it to be over. 

When he finally sat back, he was sweaty and panting, eyes full of tears. You sighed, handing him a cup of water. “Drink. You need to rehydrate.” 

Frankie nodded, accepting the water and taking small sips, slowly draining the cup over the course of a very agonizing forty five minutes, during which Frankie almost threw up again twice. 

When it seemed his stomach had finally settled, you helped him up and onto the couch once more. 

He was exhausted, immediately cocooning himself in the blankets and falling asleep again. You didn’t even bother with the documentary, instead grabbing an old book and reading out loud in an effort to keep Frankie asleep. 

The book wasn’t a favorite of yours, but Frankie really liked it, so you indulged him. Eventually, when it seemed he was well and truly asleep, you detangled yourself from him, getting up to grab two cans of soup from the cabinet and putting Frankie’s heating pad through the microwave again. Normally, you’d make the soup, but with how Frankie was, you didn’t want to risk being away from him for too long. 

Sure enough, when you sat back down, Frankie’s eyes blinked open slightly and he snuggled close. “Warm.” 

You smiled, the rasp to his voice incredibly endearing. “Mhm. I know. Here.” You pressed the heating pad to Frankie’s body, and he made a small noise of bliss. 

“What would I ever do without you?” He mumbled, sliding against your body and practically molding himself to you. 

Reaching an arm out to wrap Frankie in a one-sided hug, you shrugged, kissing his forehead. “I have no idea.” 

While he dozed, you texted the boys, who were all periodically texting you and fretting over Frankie. You gave them the run down, skipping over the more horrible bits. Will and Benny both wanted to visit, but you and Santiago decided that probably wasn’t the best idea tonight. Agreeing on tomorrow night, when some of the worst pain would be fading, you put your phone down and shook Frankie awake. 

“Huh?” He grumbled, rolling and glaring at you. “Why?” 

“Dinner,” you said, helping Frankie sit up. “The boys are coming around tomorrow, by the way.” 

Frankie shrugged. “Why do I have to eat dinner?” 

“You don’t,” you said, setting a bowl of canned soup in front of him. “Just drink some broth. Eat some of it if you can.” 

The rest of the night was spent on the couch, Frankie slowly drinking the broth out of his soup and you monitoring him. He didn’t throw up again, which was a blessing, and you were able to get a cup of tea into him as well before he finally asked to go to bed. 

“Sure thing,” you said, standing and stretching. Frankie watched, tiredly admiring your body. He grinned when you helped him to his feet, hands wandering, causing you to laugh. 

“Francisco Morales!” You scolded through your laughter, swatting his hand away from your ass. “That is rude!” 

Frankie pouted, his adorably crooked grin returning within seconds. “I’m in pain babe. Indulge me.” 

You rolled your eyes, smiling and helping Frankie into the bathroom. “I washed the sheets from last night,” you said, handing him his toothbrush. “And you are absolutely calling in sick tomorrow. No ifs, ands, or buts.” 

“Okay,” Frankie said, sticking his toothbrush into his mouth. “I love you.” 

You smiled, wiping toothpaste foam off Frankie’s face. “I love you too.” 

That night, you listened absently to the hum of the cicadas, cuddling Frankie, who was curled around you and his heating pad, his soft breath tickling your bare arm. He wasn’t asleep yet, but he was close. 

You took a deep breath, looking over Frankie’s head and staring at the moon, high in the summer sky. On nights like this, you cracked the window open to let the air in, with the precaution of multiple bug screens. 

“Babe?” Frankie mumbled, rolling a bit and pulling the heating pad out from between you. “You up?” 

“Yeah.” 

Frankie tossed the heating pad aside, making a face as it hit the floor with a heavy thump. “You good?” 

You nodded. “Yeah. Just can’t sleep.” 

“That’s not good,” Frankie mumbled, scooting around until his face was six inches from yours. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

You smiled, kissing Frankie lightly. “Go to sleep, Catfish.” 

Frankie grinned. “Ooo, busting out the nicknames. Seriously, what’s on your mind?” 

“Nothing,” you answered honestly. “You’re just super warm.” 

Humming, Frankie wrapped you in a hug, the absence of the heating pad making it much more comfortable. “Better?” 

You melted into his chest, tracing a feather light finger over his top surgery scars. “Much.” 

Frankie kissed your forehead, head falling back to the pillow as exhaustion threatened to overtake him. “Get some sleep babe.” 

Nodding, you moved Frankie’s arm so you didn’t accidentally cut his circulation off. “Right back at you Frankie.”

[katsubiatch]

Hopelessly Devoted Part 1

So I tweaked some things and changed a bit around. I changed Shinsou’s character to Arata, just because it didn’t make sense for Shinsou to not be a hero. This is probably going to be 2-3 parts or so, I’m still trying to fill out the middle of the story because I already know the ending haha. Just have to fill in the blanks of the start and middle. I hope you all enjoy. (: 

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

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Your head throbbed as you tried to concentrate on keeping your eyes open, forcing yourself to breath no matter how hard you wanted to just quit. You could feel blood pooling out underneath you and knew you were a goner if no one found you.

No one would find you, no one would suspect you to be here. You'd just decided to take an extra shift in the ER after your latest fight with Katsuki. What a pain that was turning into.

Your eyes traveled around the intake room, it was a mess now after the man had thrown you around it. You couldn't be angry, he hadn't meant to be violent and was passed out again in his bed.

The ER was busy, and this mans vitals were fine. No one was going to find you in time. You'd die here, never to see Katsuki again, never kiss him or tell him about...

Your thoughts were disrupted when the door to the intake room opened and in came an Angel you were sure of it. The Angel of death to take you away. At this point you'd have anyone if it meant the pain would go away.

The Angel dropped down to his knees next to you, pulling out all kinds of equipment and swearing under his breath. He looked a lot like Arata in his white coat. "What the hell happened?" He sure sounded a lot like Arata too. "Sweet cheeks stay with me." He muttered, a gentle hand touching your cheek. At least you'd have a gentle touch to help you through to the other side...

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

It all started in a bar, isn’t that how most love stories started now a days? It hadn’t been expected, it had just been a regular night after a long shift that required a strong drink. Bloody patients, drunk people needing IV’s to rehydrate and more tragedies than anyone could count all that and more in the long twelve hours you had worked. 

“Oh my God I thought that would never end. You know I had like three drunk guys feel me up while I was trying to put their IV’s in?” You complained to Arata as he sipped on his beer beside you. He wanted to stay sober just in case you got a bit too tipsy and he had to help you home. The two of you shared an apartment but you were just roommates. 

“You should have told me, I’d do something about it.” Arata murmured in your direction as you scoffed and looked over at him.  “Right, right. It doesn’t bother me that much, at least someone is touching it.” You murmured, taking a long sip from you straw. “Kidding, kidding. I’m just kidding. God they’re so gross.” You shivered, remembering the man that had grabbed you and whispered promises in your ear about how he’d take care of you once he got you home. You’d made sure to fish around in his arm a little, pretending you couldn’t find a vein. 

“Well you know how they are.” Arata shrugged as he finished his beer and leaned back in his chair, pushing the now empty bottle around the table. “They think once they’re drunk they are invincible and can’t get in trouble for anything.” The two of you chatted for a while and you were nice and tipsy by the time it happened. When your whole life changed. 

You’d been going to the bathroom when it happened when your hero came to your rescue like you were some damsel in distress. As much as you liked to think you could handle yourself in situations like this it was nice to be rescued sometimes. Now you didn’t really keep up with hero’s much, you only knew their names from the few times that they’d come into the ER to get patched up from big fights. Even then you didn’t fawn over them like some of your coworkers. After all they were a patient just like anyone else. They were still human. 

Either way you were headed back from the bathroom when you were trapped between a wall and a body. You looked up just to see one of the drunk men from the hospital in front of you, even drunker than before. “See I told you I’d find you again, let me take you home sugar.” His breath smelled rancid, like old beer and fried foods.  “How did you get out in the first place.” You wrinkled your nose and pushed back against the man in front of you, sighing a bit when he didn’t move. “Listen I didn’t agree to anything and I do not want you to take me home so please just let me pass.” You shook your head and attempted to squeeze out under his arm that up next to you on the wall but he was quicker. How he was in his drunken state you weren’t sure but you didn’t have the wits about yourself to question it too much. 

“Oh come on now, don’t be like that. I know you were giving me signals back at the hospital. Girl come on I can show you a real good time.” He murmured, dropping his head down to attempt to give your neck kisses.  “Really no I’m good.” You tried shoving again but you were met with resistance. “Please just let me get back to my friend...” You trailed off as suddenly the mans over salivated lips were pulled away from your neck.  “We got a problem here?” A gruff voice grumbled, holding the drunk man by he back of his shirt. He looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. He was handsome if you were going to be honest but it could be the alcohol talking.  “Mr. Dynamight sir... uh no. No there is no problem. I was just having a conversation with this girl here.” Ah so that was why he looked familiar. You hadn’t ever personally taken care of him but a few of the other nurses had been drooling over him before.  “Actually... I was just leaving. Would you mind... maybe walking me back to my table?” You asked of the hero as you looked up at him, knowing technically he was off duty but this was the only thing you could ask of him. You were a bit shaken up, that had gotten too close for comfort and now you were nervous he’d grab you when no one was looking. You just had to get back to Arata. Then you’d be safe. “Yeah, sure whatever.” The ash blond rolled his eyes as he let go of the drunk and you moved to his side. Thank you, you managed to whisper as the two of you walked back. “Thank you again. Really. I took care of him at the hospital and he decided that I wanted him or something.” You shook your head once the two of you got back to Arata who was eyeing the two of you suspiciously. “So, thanks again.” You nod, only getting a gruff ‘just doing my job’ from the man before he stomped off to his table where there were a few hero's that you did recognize. 

There were a few snickers and questions from Arata but you didn’t notice the glances from the hero’s table, not only from the hero that had saved you but also from his friends who were curious about the girl who’d caught their friends eye. Though he’d never admit it, he hadn’t even said anything to them. Arata and you decided to leave with one last glance towards Dynamights table not knowing that you’d seen him so soon again. 

It had only been a few days since the incident at the bar but it was a typical night in the ER. Drunks, car accidents and injuries from bar fights or cooking gone wrong all competing for your attention. You’d been stitching up knife cuts, checking temperatures on sick kids and giving fluids to those who needed it before transferring the more severe cases to be admitted. It had finally calmed down enough for you to finally take a drink out of your abandoned water bottle when someone told you stitches were needed in room 3. A small sigh came out of you before grabbing your supplies and making your way to the room. “Hello my name is Y/N I’ll be your nurse this evening. I heard you need stiches?” You asked, setting down your supplies.  “I don’t need any stiches. I told them that I’d be fine but they wouldn’t listen.” That voice sounded familiar and you looked up from setting things up to see the hero from the other night. Dynamight! The name finally came to you.  “Oh? How do you know that you don’t need them?” You asked with a smirk, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked over the hero.  “You’re that girl.” He stated, looking you up and down. “From the bar.” He hadn’t forgotten you but he had come to terms with the fact that he probably wouldn’t ever see you again. He was presently surprised that he was face to face with you again and now he knew your name. 

“Yes, girl from the bar that has a name. It’s Y/N.” You murmured, holding out your hand only to be met with a confused expression. “Where do you need stitches? Hand it over.” You murmured as he sighed and put his lower arm into your hand. “Mmm that does look a little nasty. Just a few stitches and you should be good to go. It won’t heal good on it’s own.” You should your head and started to get everything ready again. “This is going to be a pinch and a small burn but it’ll feel better than the stitches.” You promised as you injected his arm in a few spots. “Okay I’m gonna get started.”

The two of you made light conversation as you worked and Dynamight watched you. Little things, like the weather and how he’d gotten the injury. He was still in his hero gear so you figured he just came from work.  “Well that is that. You’re all fixed up.” You nodded, setting a bandage over it and taping it in place. “Don’t go messing up my hand work Dynamight.” You smiled at the man, taking care of your mess.  “It’s Bakugou.” He murmured, looking over at you. “Might as well be on a real name basis.” He said as he looked at you. “I mean... if you want to go on a date with me Saturday. Unless you and that guy are together.” He murmured, all confidence as he looked at you. He didn’t usually do things like this but it was something about you that he didn’t want to let get away again. He was just glad none of his friends had tagged along with him. He’d get so much shit from them for this. 

“Oh? If I want to.” You smiled as you looked over at him. “Well I guess that could be arranged.” You pulled out a pen and piece of paper out of your scrub pocket and scribbled down your address and phone number on the paper, as well as your full name. “We are not involved, just room mates.” You smiled and looked at him. “I’d love to go on a date. Pick me up at six.” You murmured, taking care of your things. “See you on Saturday Bakugou.” 

You didn’t know then what would happen, how much your life would change and the ways that it would. But if you had known then what you knew now, well you’d go thorugh it all over again. Even the hard parts.

Tag list

mae-foster

[luccislegs]

😏✨ I have some Kata angst for you~ 💖 Katakuri’s wife has been a political prisoner of a different country for over a year after she was violently abducted while out on a trip. She hasn’t been treated well *at all* durning her stay, but Big Mom hasn’t let Katakuri go to rescue her because she made a good deal with them and wasnt ready to break it, so Katakuri couldnt go save his beloved wife. Eventually the other country breaks the deal, and Kata gets to go rescue her 🤩 fluff and angst please!

mey i don’t know what circle of hell you crawled out of, but i want you to know not only did i hurt myself writing this, but i made myself almost cry on numerous occasions as i was editing this.

i hope you suffer

kidding i love you

The utter panic Katakuri felt when the news that his beloved wife had been taken prisoner was indescribable. He was a wreck, barely keeping his calm cover and facade in front of his family as they explained to him what had happened. He loved his mother, loved his family, but his wife was held above all to him. Nevertheless, he couldn’t go against his mother. It would only cause trouble for him and everyone else.

So he stood there and endured it with stoic grace as she told them all about the deal she made with the country, how lucrative it was going to be for her family, ignoring the pain she might be causing her son and anyone else who loved his wife. And when Mama told him he couldn’t go and rescue her…It was the final blow.

Katakuri always knew the marriages his mother arranged were just means to an end. She held no concerns for what bonds her children might actually form with their spouses, especially those who she looked down upon for weakness or, as she so lovingly put it “creepy” features. But he had hoped that she would at least allow him, her strongest Sweet Commander, some liberties.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the case.

Everyday, he wondered what he had done to deserve this torture, waiting for news of his love. He switched between hopeful and fearful at light speed, never able to focus on one scenario before his mind conjured up a new one. He rarely slept anymore and spent the nights doing literally anything to keep his mind occupied and off of the way he missed her so desperately.

When he did sleep, he often awoke in a cold sweat, reaching out desperately to the empty side of the bed for her, only to remember she was gone. The scent on the pillows he clung to so desperately were fading, and with it his hope that he would ever see her again.

Out of the blue one day over a year later, he received a summons to Whole Cake. Hope bloomed in his chest again and he fought desperately to quash it. It was as likely that he would be given the news she was dead as he would that she was being released. The last time he’d been summoned without notice, he received the news that his wife was captured and the abrupt refusal to allow her rescue slammed home again.

“Katakuri, I’m giving you permission to go and rescue _____. The country that has her is no longer of use to me, so do as you wish, just let them know I have no need of them anymore,” Mama said, waving her hand dismissively. There was no preamble, no faking politeness. She told him what she had to tell him and was done with the whole thing. Regardless of how beneficial the marriage between _____ and Katakuri was, it didn’t mean she cared. If she did, she would have sent him after her much sooner.

However, Katakuri did and wasted no time. He gathered up his army, sure he wouldn’t need them but the display of power might prevent a fight.

It was a long trip, and every night Kata spent his time watching the horizon, waiting for the next island to appear because it meant he was one step closer to her, and at long last it appeared. The crew began shouting orders behind him, but Kata’s focus was locked solely on the horizon, processing through the future he saw.

As he intended, his display of force, and Big Mom’s severing of ties, cowed the country’s leaders and they released _____ to him. When he first saw her, his heart thudded in his chest, unadulterated happiness filling him as she made her way towards him.

It was quickly doused as he took in her emaciated, dirty appearance. The dark circles under her eyes, the torn and dirty clothes she wore, the bruises on her skin– underneath the dirt and gods-knew-what-else– turned his joy in a white hot rage. It didn’t matter to Katakuri what happened to the people of the country, he took his revenge for his beloved _____’s treatment in moments, leaving the capital in a smoldering wreckage while the doctors took his wife back to the ship.

Afterwards, when he peeked in on her, he found her fast asleep, stuck with needles to rehydrate her and treat the pneumonia and infections she had developed during her stay. His heart thudded in his chest, still unable to believe she was really in front of him. He really, truly expected it to vanish, for him to wake up in a cold sweat again and for his heart to break once more.

As gently as he could, he sat down beside her and took her hand, careful of the IV in her hand. Even that was enough to jar her awake, and she jerked up in bed, her head swiveling around in a panic. Eyes wide and breathing shallow, she looked to Katakuri like a terrified deer, ready to bolt at the smallest sign of movement.

“Shh, love,” he whispered, pulling his scarf down and pressing her hand to his lips. “I have you now.”

“Oh god, Kata, I–” she whispered, her head starting to spin and her vision growing black as the situation hit her. She was going home, home to Komugi Island and Kata, who was with her right now and she was safe. “Kata.

“I’m here, and nothing like this will ever happen to you again,” he answered, moving so that he was perched beside her on the bed. Her voice was sweet music to his ears, driving home that she was here. His hand came up, cupping her bruised cheek so gently it was barely a caress. Even still, she flinched as if he was going to hit her, and his eyes narrowed. Now that she was clean, thanks to some of the nurses, he could see the extent of her injuries, which were numerous. Cuts and abrasions, presumably from being dragged around, littered her elbows and knees and the bruises were too many to count. 

“Kata, please, I just want–” she cried, hiccuping as she reached out to him.

Ever so carefully, he maneuvered around to hold her, careful not to cut off any of the tubes running into her, though he wanted desperately to rip them out and squeeze her as if he would never let go. If he had a choice, he never would.

Still, it seemed to do the trick for her; she continued to cry in his scarf, hiding her face away from him, but her sobs were quieted, only the shaking of her shoulders giving anything away.

He whispered to her, words of love and comfort, until the doctor came in to check on her. He started, seeing the Sweet Commander in bed with his patient, but quietly worked around him while _____ dozed on his chest. She murmured in her sleep a little while he fiddled with the IVs, but never woke.

Before he left, Kata asked about her general state and the doctor looked pityingly at her, his eyes soft with compassion. “Mrs. _____ has been through quite a bit in the last year. I’ll do a more thorough exam when we reach Flour Island but sir, she’ll need a lot of rest and care, I do know that.”

Katakuri nodded, looking down at his sleeping wife. She was pale, unhealthily so, from lack of sunlight, and so thin he could see her bones poking through her skin. She shivered, coming closer, and he jostled her slightly as he pulled her up, but she only nuzzled closer when she felt the warmth of his scarf around her shoulders and his lips graze her forehead.

“I missed you, Kata. So much. I thought of you everyday,” she whispered in his ear, tracing the scars on his cheek with cold fingers.

“I did too, _____. I waited everyday to come and get you. I’m so sorry it took me so long,” he answered, taking her trailing hand and kissing it. He made his way slowly up her arm, lingering at the deep bruises, until he reached her shoulder and paused. “Mama wouldn’t– She said–”

_____ stopped him, holding his head to her shoulder as she carded her fingers through his hair. “I understand, Kata. You’re here now, and that’s all I care about.”

He pulled back, staring into her bruised and dull eyes, so devoid of the emotions he used to see in them. But there was still that soft love as she stared back, and when he leaned down to kiss her, careful of his teeth in a well-practiced manner, she leaned into him, cupping his cheek in her hand.

He tasted salt as he pulled back and found her crying. Afraid he’d hurt her, he started to panic, examining her lips for blood, but found nothing but her smile. “_____, what is it?”

“Nothing, Kata. I thought I’d never get to do that again,” she answered, tugging on his scarf to pull him back, and he went willingly. The second kiss was slower, more languid, until she needed to breathe. “Don’t leave me, Kata. Please stay.”

Even had she not asked, he had no intentions of leaving her side for a good long while, and tucked her into his side, holding her possessively close as she slid back into sleep, half hidden in his scarf.

[jihoonluvclub]

Remedy (M)

Request: Friends to lovers with Joshua Pairing: Joshua x Reader Genre: Smut Warning: Explicit content Word Count: 2.3

You had at least a hundred things that you should have been doing at that moment.

The little nagging voice in the back of your head told you that you shouldn’t have gone out drinking with the boys. You always spent your Saturday nights having a glass of wine with Joshua and Minghao, yet for some reason you went out with Soonyoung and some of the other guys.

You didn’t even want to know how much was charged to your credit card. All you could remember was ordering round after round of shots, though you could blame most of that on Soonyoung. You knew it was a lot though.

You had crashed on someone's bed, currently you couldn’t tell who it belonged to. There is a bottle of water and a handful of painkillers next to you on the bedside table, you downed them like candy, needing to chase away your throbbing headache.

With a jolt you noticed someone was in the room with you. Joshua was in the corner of the room, sitting while reading a book. He briefly looked up at you before looking back down at the pages. All you could focus on was the total silence of the apartment. No one else must be there then.

You furrowed your brow a bit, why wasn’t he talking to you. He had given you a look as if he was judging you for being in his room. You were his best friend though, you had slept over and shared that bed plenty of times, with a body pillow in between, but still. What was his problem?

“I have coffee brewing in the kitchen, it should be ready soon.” He finally broke the silence.

His voice had never sounded so heavenly. You were thankful he was a low talker, you ears could not handle a Seungkwan right now. You wondered how long he had been sitting there. How long had you been asleep? You vaguely remember coming home but you could have sworn you passed out in the living room.

As you sit in silence and retrace your steps from the previous night, Joshua leaves the room. You drank more of the water, hoping to rehydrate yourself out of your hangover.

Joshua returned with two mugs in hand, handing yours over before returning to his seat. You look at your cup, noticing it had just the amount of milk you prefered. You smiled a bit before sipping on the warm drink, thankful for the soothing liquid.

“I don’t think I’ve seen one of those in your room before.” You say while focusing on him again.

“A coffee mug?” His brow quips, a musing smile on his face.

“Funny,” you retort, “that book. You’re not a really a reader if my memory recalls.”

“It’s not really entertaining to watch you sleep all day,” He shrugs. “Next best thing.” He says while lifting his book for emphasis.

Something about that movement caught your eye, and now you can’t stop focusing on his hands. Were they always so soft looking? God, his fingers were long. You took a deep breath and tried to pull your clouded brain out of its rutt. He was wearing an old pair of jeans and a faded blue t-shirt. It was a look he didn’t wear often, then again Sunday was a casual day.

“You got any plans for today?” You ask, wanting to break the silence.

“No,” he leaned back; placing his empty mug aside to stretch languidly.

You tried not to stare. You really, truly tried not to watch as his shirt rode up his stomach, revealing a toned abdomen. When did that happen? Last time you saw him shirtless, which to be fair wasn’t often, he definitely didn’t have that much muscle definition.

You watched as his chest rose and fell, wondering what his bare chest looked like. You imagined what the lean muscles of his back might look like. The veins in his arms were more prominent than they ever were before. When did Joshua morph without you realizing.

“You’re doing it again.”

You almost dropped your drink. You looked up hesitantly and saw he had a smirk plastered on that smug face he pulled. The only thing that stops you from hiding under the blankets then and there was the fact that he didn’t seem so broodish anymore.

“Leave me alone, I’m sick."

“Sick?” Another brow raised, “maybe you shouldn’t drink so much.”

“Why not? I’m allowed to have fun without you.”

“And who’s bed did you still wind up in? I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He chided you.

“What does it matter to you?” Why were you being combative? Was the hangover really making you that bitchy?

“It matters because you matter a lot to me.” Joshua said while looking you in the eyes.

You felt a flush creep towards your cheeks, causing you to turn your eyes back to your coffee. “Well, it’s no like you make that obvious. I can’t tell.” Oh god, why did you open your mouth?

“Of course you can. I love you.” Joshua says.

You still refused to look up at him, and in doing so, you missed the way his fingers shook and his breathing picked up once he said that. “Yeah, sure.”

He moved to the edge of the bed, kneeling down so you are forced to look at him. “I love you. More than you’ll ever know. I’m not mad that you went out last night, you just need to be safe. You were knocked out cold on the couch out there in a dress that leave little to the imagination.” He exclaimed while holding your hands in his own.

You cheeks were warm, something inside of you wanted to grab him by the shirt and crash your lips into his. “Do you like doing that?” You dared to look him in the eyes. “Imagining?”

His eyes fall down, as if they were looking right through you. You wonder what he’s thinking about as he gazed back at your face. He hadn’t backed away, his hands were still warmly clasping yours, you knew you had to take this further or you would always wonder what if.

Your heart was racing, but the look he was giving you urged you on. You slipped your hands from his grasp to hook your fingers under the straps of your dress, pulling the slinky material down your arms.

His eyes widened a fraction, and you see it now. The erratic movements in his chest, the tremble of his fingers, the way his lungs could only pull in shallow breaths. You weren’t the only one feeling this.

“I prefer seeing,” was his response.

“Me too,” you whisper.

Joshua stands up leaning over you till your back in the bed. His fingers found the tiny zipper on the side of your outfit, pulling the metal tab as gently as he could, as if it would crumble under his touch.

You sucked in a breath, arching up just enough to allow the cotton to slide down your body. With the dress on the floor Joshua lifted his t-shirt over his head. He arches over your almost bare form, pulling you into a kiss.

It was everything you never knew you wanted. He was gentle yet knowing, drawing a gasp from you as your lips met. His calloused hands ran along your chest, mapping the curves of your body to his memory. You all but gasped as he pulled way, allowing you to catch your breath.

“Joshua…” You felt like putty in his hands.

He lifted you up, trading places with you as he sat on the bed. You straddle his hips, sitting up on your knees so his eyes are level with your chest. His hands still held you by the wait, keeping you from moving.

“Better than I imagined,” he breathed; drawing a delighted, breathy laugh from you.

“So you did imagine.”

You cockiness soon dissipated as he flicked his tongue over one of your nipples. You whimpered out. Your hands curl in his dark locks as his teeth graze against the sensitive little bud of your breast.

You legs were already shaking. One of his hands splay against you back to help steady you while the other traceed nonsensical patterns against the outside of your thigh, and that was when you finally lost all patience.

“Please,” you pant.

Your attempts to squeeze your thighs together was futile considering he sat snugly between them. You pushed him down so he laid back against the mattress as you willed yourself to calm down.

“What else did you imagine?”

“Stop…” Joshua said, trying to change the subject.

“Should I just find out for myself?” You say between kisses against his jaw.

Your tongue pressed against his pulse point, your hands dancing along the smooth plane of his abdomen. Your hand lowers briefly, grazing over his length. You can feel his cock twitch through his jeans. Joshua took your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your lips back to his.

“I hope no one gets back anytime soon.” Your fingers fumble with the button and zipper of his pants, trying to move the fabric down while keeping contact with his lips.

Joshua helps you slid the fabric down his legs. “Let them,” he says as he pushes you onto your back.

You gasp as his hand settles on your inner thigh, reminding you how worked up you had become. He chuckled at your neediness, earning a huff from you when his fingers do nothing but brush against the soft cotton of your panties. Joshua leaned down to press his lips against your ear.

“Patience,” he whispered. His voice was soothing and steady, the complete opposite of how yours sounded at the moment. “I don’t want to rush this.”

You felt your chest tighten, tears felt as if they were threatening to spring out. You had never felt so close to anyone, not like this at least. You couldn’t wait. You couldn’t. In a fit of arousal you went to reach between your legs, desperate in your need to find relief.

He quickly took both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “No. Learn to be patient.”

A flood of warmth rushed through you, your arousal seeping through your underwear at the feeling of him holding you in place. You nodded at him, eyes pleading for him to continue.

His grip on your wrists were gone, “Don’t move your hands until I say,” he says before kissing your cheek.

You keep your hands in place, eager to feel those now free hands on the rest of your body. He moved your underwear down your legs.

“Good girl.”

Good girl. You felt your core tighten at that. Embarrassingly you groan loudly. His digits finally press against your aching clit, leaving you gasping as he moves his hand. Slowly, torturously, he began stroking you in small circles.

“I don’t know how I want you yet,” his fingers toyed with your entrance. “I think want to watch you ride me.”

You whine as he finally pushed his digits in, stroking your walls deliciously. “For a quiet guy, you’re perfectly chatty in the bedroom.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Joshua purred, and with that his fingers were gone.

You groaned out in disdain, each time your pleasure had built up to a steady flow he took it away from you. Joshua laid on his back guiding you to straddle him. You move to take off the last piece of clothing between the both of you.

Once his member was freed it arched upward, straining hard towards his stomach. It was bigger than it looked through the fabric. With an intake of breath, you lowered yourself onto him slowly, keeping your eyes trained to his face all the while.

Joshua’s eyes screwed shut, his head tipped back as you sunk down on his girth. You mouth fell open as almost silent moans feel from your lips. He felt perfect inside of you, there was no way you would last long.

With one hand on his chest to steady you, you began to lift your hips. You both moaned in unison, your hips moving together as you bounced on his lap. Your free hand moved down to touch you neglected clit, rubbing circles on the swollen bud until your walls were clenching down on his cock.

His hands moved to your hips, controlling your pace and making you rise and fall faster on him. Your head fell back as one of those hands moved to your breasts, teasing and massaging them as your arousal peaked.

Your legs began to twitch, your climax building up to its full height. It almost felt as if you couldn’t breath, like every thrust of his hips were forcing the air from your lungs. He was hitting that one spot that had your toes curling, and your mind went blank.

White heat coursed through your body, leaving you whimpering out Joshua’s name. Between his hands on your breasts and the pads of your fingers on your nub, you came.

The sound you made when your orgasm finally tore through you was almost a scream, no care in the world if someone else heard. You collapsed on his chest, slowly rocking your hips as your body shuddered against his.

He turned you both over, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he thrusted into you. You lost track of time while you were on your back, trying to focus on regaining your breath. That was surprisingly difficult to do when each snap of his hips against yours was just as pleasurable as before.

He came with a groan in your ear, holding you close to him as he stilled against your limp form. Neither of you knew how long you lied there but, as you came down from your high, your headache returned, worse than before. Mind numbing sex was not a hangover cure, you’d have to remember that.

[wilhelmjfink]

Hiii didn't see you there 😂 It's me again 😗✌️ I would looooove to read about worried Daryl. It's his turn now 😂 If you could combine these two it would have been wonderful 💓 “let me take care of you, for once.” “i hate to break it to you, but you’re not supposed to do any strenuous physical activity for the next couple weeks, and if i have to personally make sure you don’t every waking hour of the day then i’m fully prepared to do that.”

Daryl Dixon Drabble #4

Aight listen. This is real fluff at the end. And I hate myself for it. I hate the fluff. I love suffering. But I guess it’s good every once and awhile cuz then you get comfortable and then? U suffer real fuckin hard. Feel me

thank u for the request I hope this one makes you happy!! Once again I changed it a little to suit him..... sorry o

Once again again I didn’t reread this once

—

Stubborn. That word seemed to come up quite often in your life — both before and after it changed.

Daryl used it frequently to describe you, and ironically, you found yourself using it to describe him, too. Maybe that was what made the two of you connect so well; alternatively, it could be the reason that, when an argument did arise, you were always toe to toe with the archer, harsh accusations and accusing fingers in each others faces.

Perhaps the knowledge that you would inevitably end up in that scenario is why you opted to just ignore your aching body and the burning in your chest in favor of continuing your morning chores, harvesting the vegetables that were ripe enough for picking, albeit slower than usual.

As much as Daryl was infuriatingly stubborn, he was equally observant, a lifetime of watching from the shadows benefiting him more than he’d likely ever had guessed a decade earlier. And, god damn him, he was confrontational; a lethal combination when someone he cared about was trying to hide something from him, which may or may not be exactly what you were actively doing.

The sun seemed extra harsh today, beating down on you like a relentlessly heavy blanket. You could feel it burning your skin, even with the sweat that ceased to form along your forehead and neck and chest, and you brought the bottom hem of your ratty old red tank top up to wipe your face and take a moment to catch your breath when you heard him approach.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a pointed nod, watching as you pulled your shirt back down to respond but instead stumbled when the minor action caused the world to teeter slightly beneath your feet, lulling you forward with your hand flat on the soft earth for support.

A small action that may have gone unnoticed had you been talking to anybody else, but this was Daryl. And he was at your side instantly, his hand grasping your shoulder to steady you, despite you trying to shrug it off and avoid eye contact.

“What’s up?” You tried to avoid his gaze and instead rolled your shoulder to wipe some sweat from your brow, turning your attention to the basket of carrots and potatoes at your side.

“Ya alright?”

“Yeah!” But even you winced at the amount of effort put behind that single word to make it seem normal, ironically twisting it to sound as forced as it was. “Yeah, just hot today. Almost done, though.”

Daryl eyed you warily as you stood, making sure to exhale deeply through your nose to keep your balance. You didn’t stumble, but you couldn’t deny the feeling of your head swimming through the darkness that clouded the edges of your vision that you began to try and blink away desperately.

Suddenly he was in front of you, knelt before you with both hands on your shoulders, blue eyes wide with curiosity and... concern? It was then you realized his mouth was moving — he was talking to you, but you couldn’t hear him. An obnoxious, high-pitched ringing in your ears had started at some point, leaving his voice muffled like he was underwater. Or maybe, he was beneath the surface of whatever bright black and white spots dotted your vision threateningly, increasing at a worrying speed despite your efforts to step back away from them or shake them away, and all at once they blinded you — all Daryl could do was catch you as you collapsed right before him.

You faded into consciousness with the strange notion that you should be doing something important. Something other than sleeping, waking up on your own accord, the heaviness in your eyes and head telling you that you’d even slept too long — why hadn’t your alarm woken you up this morning?

That was to say, of course, it was too early. But the voices that you could hear somewhere close by convinced you otherwise. A rumble of thunder gently shook the floors, the walls, the bed you lay in, and you forced your tired eyes open just in time to watch a flash of lightning paint an obscure image on the ceiling above you.

This wasn’t your bed.

Despite everything your body was telling you, you bolted upright in an instinctive panic: where were you? And why couldn’t you remember going to sleep in your own bed that night?

“Hey, now.” A disembodied voice rung out from somewhere beside you, and your brain caught up before your ears allowed you to register it. Your heart instantly slowed it’s incessant thumping and you were able to exhale a steadying breath, allowing the rapid wave of panic to dissipate as your body fed signals to you that your muddled brain otherwise couldn’t configure on their own at the moment: relax, he’s here, so wherever you are, you’re safe.

Hilltop’s infirmary had a very intricate and distinctive taste that you could identify from just the detail of the trim along the wall. The dull, light grey aura told you it was sometime during the day, and you looked to the window at your right — blinds pulled shut — and then to Daryl, who sat in a dining chair at your side.

“Daryl?” You weren’t sure why you felt the need to reassure yourself it was really him, as if this strange, fever dream-like world had concocted up some figment of your imagination that looked, sounded, even smelled like Daryl, all traits that were comforting in and of themselves. You cleared your throat hastily and tried to rid your mouth of the dry sandpapery feeling that plagued it mercilessly.

Daryl presented a cup of water that you took and slugged eagerly, chugging as much as your body could take before he reached back up and pulled it back away from your mouth. “S’enough, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

“What happened?” You asked, voice fuller now that you’d rehydrated yourself and sat up further against the sturdy headboard of the bed. You racked your brain for the last clear memories you had. “My carrots..?”

To your surprise, Daryl snorted a laugh; not a whole hearted, genuine one — you knew him well enough to know that something was eating at him and you would surely find out soon — but a small noise that still stirred up the butterflies in your stomach, even after all this time.

“Your carrots are fine,” he told you, voice low, like he was afraid of the storm hearing his words. “You ain’t, though. Why didn’t ya tell me ya were sick?”

You felt the flush creep up your neck and your cheeks and you ducked your chin down, guilt and regret already making themselves comfortable. Next, Daryl would chew you out for being stubborn, you’d argue, give him the silent treatment for a few hours before one of you caved and apologized. “I didn’t... I thought I could power through it. I thought it was just the heat...”

“Ya, it was the heat,” he retorted, sitting up a bit straighter as he spoke, “the heat ‘n the one-oh-two fever ya had, too. Ya know better than to push yourself if you’re sick, yeah? We ain’t got doctors ‘b drug stores ‘n those kinda luxuries anymore.”

You sighed, glancing fleetingly at him before looking away. “I don’t wanna bother anybody — we all got so much going on right now, what with the Saviors, and...”

“I don’t care about no damn Saviors.” Daryl reached out, cupping your chin with a gentle touch only he could manage with his rough and calloused fingers, tilting your head to look toward him. “Can’t fight ‘em if you die from fuckin’ pneumonia, Y/N.”

“I don’t want anyone babying me when we’re all on edge,” you shook yourself free and cursed yourself mentally for the unintended bite your words held. But Daryl didn’t flinch, only narrowed his eyes. “You, especially, got far too much shit going on right now, okay?”

“Would ya just listen to me for one second?” Daryl snapped, and you found yourself taken back at the uncharacteristic steadiness of his voice. Typically these arguments escalated quicker than you could keep up with them, but Daryl’s tone held no resentment, no strain of trying to remain level-headed. In fact, he brought his hand back up to your face and made you face him once more. “Please, jus’... jus’ lemme take care of you for once. We dunno what’s gonna happen with this whole Negan thing ‘n I don’t wanna spend any time we have left together fightin’, alright?”

You could see the pleading behind his eyes that broke your heart, the toll that it took on Daryl as he carried the burden of not being able to protect his friends and family from the Saviors and the other unknown threats that lurked outside of the walls of the few safe havens you all had found. But, you supposed, if all he needed was for you to rest and lay low, if that gave him some semblance of control in this frantic world, you could give that much to him.

“But... my carrots...”

The smile that ghosted his face forced a wave of heat across you own flushed skin. “Christ — the god damn carrots will be fine.”

“I need to at least dig up the rest of my potatoes,” you added thoughtfully. “And the tomatoes will be ready in a couple of days — “

“I hate to break it to ya,” Daryl leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the edge of your mattress, a sign of comfort and relaxation you were elated to see from him during such stressful times. “But ya ain’t s’pose to do any strenuous physical activity for the next couple of weeks — ”

You rolled your eyes. “Tomato picking is hardly strenuous physical activity, D.”

“It’s what got ya here in the first place, ain’t it?” You looked away sheeplishly. “Listen, if I gotta spend every wakin’ second makin’ sure ya don’t do nothin’, I will.”

“Even if it means you gotta pick my tomatoes for me?”

This time, it was Daryl’s turn to roll his eyes. “I ain’t no damn farmer, girl.” You smiled, leaning back onto your pillow and closing your eyes contently. You weren’t sure if you were meant to hear him mutter under his breath: “but, fer you? I guess I can try.”

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Persistence - 8

No BTHB prompt for this part. Find the masterlist for this series here, or the previous part linked in the first line.

Tag list (dm or ask to be added or removed): @whump-tr0pes, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doitforthewhump, @shameless-whumper, @endless-whump, @theycomeinthrees, @faewhump

CW: creepy whumper, painful wound cleaning, mild gore for brief description of stitches, stockholm syndrome-y vibes (but the whumpee is just delirious, not attached), pet whump mention (again, not actually)

“You’re gonna make such a good mage for me, aren’t you? Just for me, that’s right…”

Somewhere just beneath the surface Floyd desperately wanted to shake his head no no no a thousand times over, but he settled for dry heaving onto the floor next to him before blacking out.

Floyd opened his eyes and everything set in slowly. Arms pressed against him and the cuts all along his body, holding him against someone’s chest. The sharp haze of pain clouded his senses, the world a buzz of noise and color around him.

Eventually he felt the ground rise up to meet his back once again, and he must have passed out again. When he woke, he was being moved around from behind.

“Wha… what’re you doin’...?” Everything was still bleary, but it looked like there was another person in the room standing right in front of him.

“Trying to help you,” he recognized Percival’s voice in his ear, “Now sit up before I drag you by your hair.”

Drowsily, Floyd rolled over and started slowly pushing himself up, but lethargy still clung to his autonomy. He slumped back to the ground, trying to peel his eyes open long enough to see the world spin around him, but it was too little too late. Fingers reached and twisted in his hair, and sharp sparks of pain jolted him to his senses.

The grip tightened and shoved him into a sitting position, Percival’s hands coming around to grab Floyd’s upper arms, an iron grasp pulling him to sit upright.

He blinked in surprise, still dazed by the sudden movement, and noticed that there really was a second person in the room. Narrow, tired eyes looked back at him, glancing before--He? She? He really couldn’t tell--turned back to the table in the corner of the room. His stomach churned at the memory of being strapped to that same table not even a day ago, and he leaned unwittingly back into his captor’s chest.

“Hey, hey, none of that now. Casey’s gonna stitch up those cuts, and you’re going to hold still for them so they don’t mess anything up,” Percival chided, shifting him closer as Floyd tried harder to pull away.

“Nnh- I… what do you mean they? There’s only one pers’n here…” he muttered, finally stilling when he realized he was far too weak to get away.

“Yes. Casey is one person, they go by they, and it’s in your best interest to respect that, Benedict,” he hissed.

“Don’t bother,” came a bored voice above, slurred and careless as they turned away from the table with supplies in hand, “it’s not like your pet’s gonna understand the fine intricacies of human decency.” Casey chuckled quietly to themself as Percival’s face twisted.

“Hey, this one’s not a pet. He’s just a pet project I’ve taken, ah, special interest in.” He pulled a hand through Floyd’s hair as he said it, pulling back on greasy red curls so the boy looked up with a shiver.

Casey stood over him, a needle with some sort of thread in one hand and a bottle of ale in the other. They bent down and he eyed the bottle warily, thirst threatening to overtake him. Alcohol wouldn’t do much to rehydrate him, but to have any liquid at all would be a blessing.

“See that, darling? I saved some ale just for you.”

“Yeah, whatever. Hold it still; it’s not gonna like this,” they sighed, uncorking the ale and kneeling up to get a better look at Floyd’s body. He shivered, feeling bare under their critical gaze. He cringed when they peeled his pants back from dried blood and cuts, rolling them up to have better access.

They reached back for the ale as Percival held him carefully still, and only when it lowered towards his legs did he realize it wasn’t to drink. Casey tipped the bottle and translucent red streaks poured over his legs, mixing with darker, viscous fluid and sliding neatly into slices all the way down to the deep wounds in his heels.

It was a small, cool pressure like the saltwater, but then it was hot and steaming and sharp and overwhelming. He could feel every single pinprick of pain as alcohol flared and raged, as opposed to the hazy, deafening torment of salt. His muscles locked up at the awful sensation, shivering as he clenched his jaw and tried to swallow down a cry. The breathy whimper that came out made him wish he’d just screamed instead.

Floyd gasped deep, hitching breaths when it finally faded into a dull thrum up and down his leg. It was done, and he took his time to calm down before the stitching started. He could make it through this, and maybe mercifully pass out once it was over.

Casey’s hands wrapped around his ankles, and Percival’s around his shoulders, and he’d been spun around before he could protest. His back now faced out, and that left him staring forward into his captor. Agitated cuts on his legs pressed into the floor under him, but he couldn’t shift before he felt the unmistakable sensation of more liquid rolling down his injured back.

Before Floyd could even think, his hands were fisted in Percival’s shirt, head pressed to his chest, and eyes screwed shut as ale seeped quickly into the deepest wounds. This time he let himself shout when it sank in, writhing against the pain. Percival’s chest shook with laughter he couldn’t hear. His arms circled around Floyd’s back in an awful mockery of a hug, hands skimming over cuts and fingers with long, cracked nails pressing cruelly into them. He yelped and shivered every time, feeling them slip under his skin where he never should have been able to feel.

“You do know there’s no point in me cleaning its cuts if you just stick your dirty fingers right back in them afterwards, right?” Casey grumbled, busying themselves with threading the needle. Percival laughed again and moved his hands back up to massage at Floyd’s shoulders.

“Let up, Casey,” he clicked his silver tongue, waving them off, “didn’t you see him? The first hint of pain and he came to me to support him. I think it’s sweet.”

Floyd shivered uncomfortably, flushed with embarrassment and anger. Of course he used Percival to support himself; that freak was the one holding him in the first place. He didn’t have another option.

“...wish it wasn’t you,” he muttered, too scared to confront his captor with anything else he was thinking.

“Oh, Benedict, you poor thing,” Percival pouted maliciously, cupping Floyd’s chin in his hands and tilting it up to look him in the eyes. “There’s nobody else here who would even bother to hold you while you cry. Is seeing my face really such a price to pay?”

He averted his eyes in a silent concession.

“Then why didn’t you just say so in the first place?!” he exclaimed, the shift in his tone just startling enough to drag Floyd’s gaze back up to him. “I can do that for you, darling.”

Percival’s eyes flashed with hot, swirling magenta tones before he faded from vision. He… he turned invisible. That wasn’t what Floyd wanted at all.

“...alright, I’m just gonna start on the stitches so this doesn’t take forever. Hold it still,” they sighed, placing a light hand over one of the wider cuts and positioning the readied needle. Percival pushed his captive back against his chest, looping arms under his shoulders and nodded.

“Go on,” he gestured.

Face buried in his captor’s chest, he struggled to draw deep breaths before the needle slid in, tugging through the corner of a slice. It felt… wrong. It didn’t hurt so much as it tingled, sending his stomach fluttering at the sensation. He held his breath as the next stitch slipped through, slick now with his own blood, pulling sickeningly at skin as the last one tightened further.

Stitches painted a canvas across his back, moving on to another when they closed the first wound. Slowly, Floyd felt himself falling out. His tense muscles went limp, only jumping at occasional deep pricks of the needle, and he closed his eyes. If he imagined hard enough, he could almost pretend the sturdy frame he was curled up against wasn’t his captor, but Ray. The long strings of hair that tickled the back of his neck were Ray’s dark curls, and the sharp scent left on his shirt wasn’t vinegar, but the salty, sandy smell of everything Ray wore.

Slowly, his hands loosened from fists in Ray’s shirt, and wrapped around his midsection in an embrace that the recipient leaned eagerly into. He could hardly feel the needle sliding through his skin anymore, and focused more and more on the comfort of his captain, holding him close after this terrifying nightmare was over. Kind, and warm, and soothing, like a father to his son…

“Alright, that’s it. I could get the ones on its legs, but they’re small and I’m bored,” Casey said, pulling Floyd back to reality. He blinked, realizing that the man he was up against was visible once again and the illusion shattered. He had been hugging Percival,and burying himself in that awful vinegar scent, and feeling his arms around him. At the smug look on his tormentor’s face, Floyd let go of him as quickly as possible and scrambled as far away as his sluggish limbs could get him. He’d just willingly hugged the man who kidnapped and fucking tortured him, and imagined he was someone he admired.

Anger flashed in Percival’s eyes, and he flew forward kneeling right over Floyd and catching his shoulders to keep him from moving any further.

“Don’t. Tear. Your. Stitches.” he seethed. “Casey worked very hard to make sure you don’t bleed out or get very, very sick aside from what I’m going to do to you. So, if you ruined their work this quickly after getting it done, I’d be loath to let you get away without severe punishment.”

He left the threat hanging in the air, but Floyd nodded quickly, face still flaming. He didn’t need examples. He already had them bruised, cut, chafed, and slowly scarring across his body. He didn’t need any more. Percival smiled, dismissing Casey before he spoke.

“Perfect. How do you feel about a meal, then?”

Next part

[luminary-gremlin]

Host vs Dark (Poly vs Poly)

Tagging: @thehostofleetrature @darkipli-ler I would tag more but this part focuses on these two the most!

Morning came and both polies sprung into action. Silver cooked up a healthy energizing breakfast for his group as Dark pumped up his team, for once allowing Wilford to eat as much sweets as he wanted and Magnum a hunk of meat while they discussed plans and their strengths and weaknesses and how they can turn them into strengths. Yandere made sure to put both of their boys through a casual training session the night before to keep their senses aware and what they need to work on. Host meanwhile focused on conserving as much energy as possible, even going to bed early an hour or two early. However, despite all this they all knew this was in good fun. Once it was time, they egos made their way to silver’s gym, a large room with a soft matt, perfect for battles.

           They all decided to have Host and Dark go first, all excited and pumped to see an epic magical duel between them both. The Host then took off his trench coat to reveal a baggy and loose tank top as Dark slid off his jacket and show off his my chemical romance t-shirt, as to be fair and not have any hindering armor for their battle. Dark adjusted his tie as he eyed down Host, already planning his next move.

           The Host meanwhile tried to conserve as much energy as possible, turning off his mind eye and depending on his other senses, he took a deep breath and did a little stretch before beginning.

           “You shouldn’t be tempting me with those stretches of yours Host.”

           Dark purred, hoping to tease and fluster Host into submission. Although it did cause Host to blush a bit, he remained calm and collected.

           “The Host is honored that Darkiplier can’t help but check out his body, perhaps he is checking out more than possible spots~.”

           The Host cooed right back with a cheeky attitude before both parties had their attention taken by Wilford.

           “Alright alright, come on let’s get started gentlemen. I’m practically bubbling with excitement to see who’ll win! On your marks, get set, FIGHT!”

           Almost immediately Dark made his first move, keeping his distance as he circled around Host, neither party planned to go easy on each other so all was fair game. He stayed as silent as he could, no teasing just yet to blow his cover as the Host strained his ears for some noise other than the sound of popcorn and slurping soda from the peanut gallery.

           “Aren’t you going to make your first move~? Or are you too scared that I’ll catch you Host?”

           “The Host is simply allowing Dark to move, as he already is. It would be foolish to pounce or charge and waste precious energy.”

           “…Oh so you already know you’ll be within my grasp.”

           Dark sneered with delight as he got closer and halted, standing behind host at a close enough distance, but not too close for Host to feel him breathing down his neck. He locked his eyes on his target like a prey and pounced.

           Host however, knew exactly where Dark was. Once he felt the shift of the matt under his feet he stepped aside and grabbed one of Dark’s arms, and held it and just as Dark was about to feel the recoil of his arm being tugged Host kicked his feet out from under him, thus tripping Dark and making him fall on his butt.

           “Dark’s cotton candy scent as he got closer is what gave him away to the Host. Perhaps if he wasn’t wearing such a strong scent he may have pinned the Host. Although I do ponder how a sweet scent is coming from the bold and masculine Darkiplier~”

           Dark was caught by surprise, mentally cursing himself for letting Wilf rub his scent on him, but quickly rolled up while host still had a hold of his arm and twisted so he was behind Host and pinned his arm to his back, wrapping his other arm around his torso with his free hand to gently scribble over the dip of Host’s exposed side.

           Host gasped and let out quite the cute squeal and bubbly giggles at the attack, quickly dropping down. Everyone gasped, thinking Dark had just had the opportunity to pin him, but because the angle and position became so awkward and so heavy that it made Dark let go. Host then kicked his legs out from under him and rolled over and pinned Dark’s arms above his head and sat on them, thus rendering Dark completely useless.

           “Heh, nice moves, but you can only reach so far!”

           Dark growled playfully as he squirmed and tugged his arms.

           “My hands may be limited, but my words aren’t~”

           Host purred before immediately going into it, tracing Dark’s pits with his blunt nails and narrating.

           “Dark then began to feel tingling his heels as if ghostly nails were spidering them under his socks, and slowly climbing up his soles dramatically. Dark’s stomach then began to fill with dread as he knew there was no possible way to escape his tickles.”

           Just as Host described, everyone could watch Dark’s legs begin to twitch as if trying to kick away the nonexistent fingers and tug at his arms. A wobbly smile began to form as he scrunched his nose and closed his eyes to focus.

           Host meanwhile wasted no time, although he was one to linger on a spot just to appreciate it, this time he couldn’t if he wanted to win. He began to climb down to a particular set of ribs when suddenly something wrapped around his waist and hoisted him off of Dark. Host gasped as he was tossed around in the air and the thing wrapped around his waist then grabbed his wrists and hung him in the air as a familiar object wrapped around his ankles. He opened his mind eye to perceive what was happening only to find Dark’s tendrils holding him in the air, and a very vengeful Darkiplier getting up.

           Ah one thing Host may have forgotten to mention, although both of them when tickled to a certain point make it very difficult to use their powers, Host’s is based off of words, so the slightest giggle or stutter the cancels out the narration.

           Dark grinned as he rubbed the feeling out of his feet and glared up at Host with a sneer.

           “Well, well, well. How are you going to get out of this one Host~?”

           “T-the Host….ahem… Darkiplier’s tendrils then began to l-loooHOHhohohohsehehehen ohohohoh nohohohoh!”

           As Host was about to narrate himself free, another tendril of Dark’s gently flicked over his side like a feather and poked gently and squished his side, thoroughly cutting off his narration. Host couldn’t stop the blush forming on his cheeks and just how quickly Dark took back control, all the while he just paced and paced around without lifting a single finger.

           The tendrils slowly lowered Host closer to the floor while the side one and the one holding his arms up began to tease his very exposed pits, causing the already meek librarian to squeal and tug his arms in desperation to protect the sensitive spot.

           “And just like that the all-powerful Host, stripped from his power and reduced to giggles. Now then I wonder what will break you the quickest, oh there is so many options to choose from.”

           Dark pondered, fake thinking as the tendrils around Host’s ankles began to slide into his socks, teasing all over his bare soles and leaving no nerve endings untouched. Host let out a very audible change in his laughter as he shook his head side to side. Poor guy was in tickly hea-HELL.

           “How about, here?”

           “N-nohoHOHOHOHOHOH NAHHAAH THTHEHEHEHEHEHHERE!!!”

           Dark then began to trace his waist that made the Host buck and arch, thus exposing even more waist.

           “Oh why thank you, you must really love this if you’re showing off your irresistible skin Host. I can see why your lovelies praise you so much.”

           Dark cooed, while also very much meaning it as Host was a little self-conscious about his body, so any meaningful compliment was very nice.

           “OHOHOHOH SSSHSHSSHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHSHHHSHHSHSSHSHS!”

           “Oh how they must love how you’re so willing to let them tease and tickle tickle tickle you. To let yourself be the one taken care of as they tease each and every spot on your delicate nerves, awakening each and every one over and over. I bet if we didn’t have this little competition, they’d march their way right over and kiss and nibble everywhere. Maybe even wear some lipstick so that way later at night you can feel that you’re all theirs.”

           The Host was beet red as all he could imagine is his lovelies loving him and tickling him to their hearts desires. He was craving it but as long as he was trapped he couldn’t. Not to mention the combination of his narrations plus being tickled in his top 3 spots began to tire him out. Eventually, the Host caved in, craving the touches of his loved ones.

           Meanwhile, a certain pink mustached man was certainly pink after watching Dark tease. Man why did Host have to be the lucky on- I mean, why did Host have to be the one that fights him?

           “M-MEHEHHEHEHERCY!”

           Immediately Dark had halted everything, giving Host some time to calm down before setting him down carefully and carrying him in his arms to his lovers, both of which wasted no time giving him the love he craved.

           “You did so well Hostieboo! I’m so proud of you!”

           “Yeah! Dark can be super hard to fight but you managed to pin him down that was amazing! We’re so proud of you!”

           Silver then pulled Host into his chest so Host could rest as Yan fed him some water to rehydrate their seer. Dark meanwhile crouched to his level with a reassuring smile.

           “You fought valiantly Host, it was an honor to battle.”

           The Host meanwhile gave a dazed smile as he snuggled into his hero’s chest and held Yan’s hand before taking a well-deserved nap, as well did Dark, his team rooting and cheering that they won the first round.

Sweets: 0 | Sundaes: 1

[wolfpawn]

I Love You, I Hate You, Chapter 117

Chapter Summary - Danielle and Tom deal with having a puppy before Tom discusses something with Danielle, leading to some serious discussions.

Previous Chapter 

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @damalseer​ @hiddlesbitch1​ @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly​ @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

‘Come on.’ Danielle smiled, urging the puppy out with her. Mac had already done his business and returned to the warmth of the kitchen, but on seeing Danielle urging Bobby outside, he decided to join them again. Bobby, for his part, though his breed sees nothing wrong with hours of running around in the countryside in the rain, did not seem to like the falling water too much and did not want to leave the house. Danielle however, possessed the size to carry him and the will to outlast him, meaning that though she was less than pleased to be getting wet, she won the battle and finally the puppy’s bladder could not contain its contents any longer and he went to the bathroom. Singing his praises, she brought the dogs back in, using the towel she had on the radiator to dry them both roughly before getting them ready to go back into their now shared bed.

It was decided to get them both a bed each so to not make Mac think Bobby was infringing too much on him. That idea, however, lasted all of twenty minutes, and when Mac went into his bed after his introduction to the puppy, Bobby seemingly decided that Mac was his new bedmate. The pair had quickly managed to find a way for them both to fit in one bed and curled up together. Again, the resumed positions and Danielle threw the towel beside the washing machine before rushing through the house and to the bedroom again.

‘How did that…..you’re soaked?’ Tom noted, looking at her.

‘Yes, but he went,’ she grinned in return. ‘I am going for a quick shower.’

‘But I thought you were planning on coming back to bed.’ Tom looked slightly unhappy with her decision.

‘I am a bit wet and it is not too warm out.’ She explained.

Tom looked at her longingly but did not argue, she did need to warm up. ‘Don’t take too long.’

‘Are you off somewhere today?’ Danielle asked curiously as she peeled the wet clothes from her skin.

‘The furthest I plan on going today is for a small walk with our boys, the rest of the day will be here with you and I want to continue to do that at the earliest convenience.’ Tom gave her a playful grin.

‘Fair enough. I do think that bed is calling to me.’

‘Loudly, indeed and me with it.’ Tom’s eyes scanned over her body as she grabbed a towel and walked into the bathroom.

Danielle smiled as she wiggled her ass for a moment playfully. ‘Behave.’

‘After you doing that? Not likely, Darling.’ Tom scoffed.

Danielle laughed as she closed over the door and turned on the shower. As soon as the steam began to rise in it, she jumped in, forcing herself not to jump, even though her freezing feet were finding the water to be too hot. She quickly washed her body before jumping out again, not bothering to do her hair. With a speed that was not necessary, she dried herself and with only a string top and a pair of pyjama bottoms she had grabbed on her way to the bathroom, she rushed back into the bedroom before slipping in on her side of the bed.

Tom immediately placed an around her, pulling her to him and kissing her. ‘You smell like me.’

‘My body wash is gone, so I stole yours.’

‘Well now, that is terribly cheeky of you.’ He grinned, kissing her again, this time more passionately. ‘I cannot control myself with you this morning.’ He confessed against her lips.

Danielle smiled between kissing him back. ‘And why is that? The shower gel?’

‘Because I have not been able to ravish you in some time, and I am rectifying that right now.’ Tom’s hands began to slide down her body until he came to the hem of her pants, putting his thumbs inside them, he pulled them ever so slightly down. When Danielle raised her hips slightly to allow him to take them off, he smiled as he continued to kiss and touch her. ‘Did you miss me too?’

‘Ever so slightly.’ She grinned, her hands making their way to his boxers, squeezing his ass through them.

‘I think you have a thing for my ass.’

‘I do, as much as you seem to like my breasts.’

‘Well, I was not aware you had such an inclination for it.’  Tom admitted. ‘Though, perhaps I should have, considering I seem to recall you spending a significant amount of time looking at it.’

‘In every state of undress as well as when you are fully clothed, I must confess.’

‘And grabbing it.’

‘Only at moments like this, I would not want you to feel like I was accosting you as you attempt to do the dishes.’ Danielle smiled.

‘I would not mind, I can assure you, so long as we are alone and not with my family or our friends around.’

‘How about if I ever join you at an event.’ Danielle laughed. ‘I would have death threats by the dozen for groping it. As well as those that would declare I need to do it more and to give another one from them.’

‘Which would be more concerning?’

‘Well, I would go with the ones threatening my life personally.’

‘Perhaps so, but do not fear, I would protect you.’

‘Hmm, my hero.’ She pulled him to her and kissed him again. ‘Tom….’ Her voice was filled with lust and yearning.

‘I know.’ He kissed her again.

*

‘See, and here we go.’ Danielle smiled as Bobby ceased fighting with his harness and walked alongside her. Tom and Mac had gone jogging in the park and though the puppy whined and yelped and pulled to go after them, Danielle waited until he stopped before she allowed him to walk with her. Armed with treats and a poop scoop bag, they started their first walk as owner and pup.

Danielle smiled as they made their way around the park, glad to see Tom had done everything she had asked with Bobby in her absence regarding training him. Minus a few occasions where he forgot himself or something interesting came into view, he was incredibly well behaved. As expected, a few other dog owners came over to say hello, their dogs immediately willing to interact with the puppy as the people spoke with Danielle. They spent a few minutes talking before parting ways again. There were also children who could not resist the adorable puppy, as well as a few adults who too could not help but coo at the adorable animal. One couple even went and asked for the breeder’s details. Bobby, of course, lapped up all of the attention bestowed upon him. Only one girl seemed to realise who Danielle was, even though she was wearing a “Loki’s Army” hoodie and was playing with Bobby for a good three or four minutes as her own dog (aptly named Loki) it took her a while to realise it, due to spending most of her time focusing on Bobby. Her eyes widened slightly before she stared at Danielle, who felt uncomfortable for a moment before the girl blushed and apologised to her. She asked Danielle if she could take a photo of Bobby and Loki together since she was trying to convince her parents that a second dog would not be an issue, Danielle consented and after that was done, the pair parted ways wishing each other the best.

By the time Tom and Mac returned, Bobby was more tired than they were, as it had been incredibly mentally and physically stimulating and in turn, exhausting for the puppy. With him cuddled up in Danielle’s arms, half dozing, he took a moment to realise Tom and Mac were back, and though exhausted, he struggled to get to the other dog, but his paw were too tired to keep up with him properly.

‘Good run?’

‘Yes, how was your walk?’

‘Good, you’ve been doing wonderfully with him.’ Tom beamed proudly at her praise. ‘He is wrecked from everyone wanting to say hi.’

‘Yes, I never realised how much social interaction one can bring.’ Tom admitted. ‘Yesterday there was a girl squealing and fawning and I must confess, I thought she was a fan.’

‘She wasn’t?’

‘I have no idea, all I know is she was mad about this little guy, I could have been on fire and she would not have noticed after she asked to see if she could rub him.’

‘Haha, terrible for the ego. Yeah, we had a few of them too, but there was a girl, with a Loki’s Army hoodie and a dog called Loki today.’

‘Was she good, bad…?’

‘She recognised me for a finish and asked to get a picture of her dog with him, so I said yes since no humans were involved and that was pretty much it really.’

‘You said yes?’

‘Apparently, and I don’t particularly care if it was the truth or not, she is trying to convince her family to get another dog and this was her proof their dog would be okay with it.’

‘Fair enough.’ Tom nodded. He looked at Bobby, who seemed to be looking at Mac half defeatedly. ‘He’s too tired.’ Tom noted.

‘I think so, yes.’ Danielle looked at the exhausted puppy. ‘I’ll carry him.’

‘I will do that, you take our big boy.’ Tom smiled, passing her Mac’s lead before picking up and grateful looking Bobby. ‘You are tuckered out, aren’t you?’ He smiled as Bobby curled in against him, looking at the world around him. Mac going to heel by Danielle’s side, elated with the ear scratch she gave him. They were relieved to see that no one paid them any real heed as they went about their business returning to their home, bar one or two people fawning over Bobby, but Danielle ensured for every bit of attention Bobby got, she gave Mac some too. One girl even spent ages on Bobby while her boyfriend was asking a hundred questions on Mac, making the older dog all the happier.

When they finally got home, Danielle settled the dogs as Tom showered. By the time he came out, Mac was rehydrated and curled up around an already snoozing Bobby while Danielle cooked their dinner. Placing his arms around her, Tom kissed the side of her neck. ‘What will we do for the evening?’

‘You, me, dinner and an easy movie, and snuggling up on the couch with occasional toilet breaks for us and our boys.’ Danielle suggested.

‘Sounds good.’ Tom kissed her neck again. ‘I am loving this “Our boys” thing we are going with.’

‘It sounds good, doesn’t it?’

‘I was thinking when you were gone.’

‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘I wanted to talk to you about us considering looking at a house out of the city.’ She turned to look at him. ‘We would use this one still, as a place to be when working, but when we are between jobs and when you are not needed in the office, we would be somewhere more towards the countryside.’

‘What brought this on?’

‘With the dogs, and with us, I wanted to get away from the spotlight more, and with everything, I was looking at a few houses, but I wanted to talk it over with you too.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, I would assume you would have some input, you are, after all, living with me, as my partner.’

‘Partner, not girlfriend?’

‘Girlfriends are something you have as a youth, we are serious adults, partner is a term indicative of that. We spent half of our evening yesterday devising a plan for dividing our bills, that is very mature.’ Tom explained.

‘And what about this house you have planned, how is that going to affect things?’ Danielle enquired.

‘As I said, we would go there when possible.’

‘No, as in, how would we pay for this?’ Tom frowned at her. ‘Oh, you would do it by yourself.’

‘I…Do you want to…’

‘What is bothersome is I do want to look into something like that with you. Us getting a house together or something similar, since it is obvious we are becoming more and more serious, but my budget is nothing in comparison to you. My part in the company is not worth near that and I know you, you will put half of it up front as the deposit, if not all.’

‘Elle…’

‘I feel…’ She sighed rubbing her hands over her face. ‘Sometimes the imbalance in this is hard.’

‘You don’t need to feel like that, I want us to have a home we both want, I can afford to do this for us.’

‘But I don’t want to depend on you.’ She stated. ‘I want to be able to bring something to this, but I feel so second tier.’

Tom pulled her to him and kissed her head. ‘I don’t want you to feel like that.’

‘But I do, Tom. You talk about buying a house like most people do a holiday, and I can’t do that. You did not even consider me paying anything towards a home for us.’

Tom thought over her words for a few moments before speaking again. ‘How about we look, and discuss, but take into account you wanting part of it?’

‘You don’t mind if that means somewhere smaller?’

‘Elle,’ He pulled back slightly to look her in the eye. ‘You have just asked to be involved in buying a house with me. You have gotten a dog with me and refer to that dog, and your one, as “our” dogs. “Ours” as in, you and I both have equal say over them. We spent last night divvying bills. You are doing these things that state very clearly to me you are investing in us, for at least twelve years with Bobby and with a house more, of course, I am willing to discuss this with you, you have no idea…’ He kissed her, a large smile on his face. ‘I love you. I love you so so much and your saying this makes me love you all the more.’

‘You are an incredible dork, do you know that?’ She smiled, kissing him back.

Also, we have no picture for Mac Tíre, I am thinking something like a sleeker version of this.

[mintchocohip]

sub!bts experiencing subdrop

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥  ‒  headcanons for the members experiencing subdrop.

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨:  member x reader  |  𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨:  mature  |  𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦:  light angst; fluff

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 ➢ due the nature of drop, all warnings related to depressive feelings apply! any additional 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 can be found with each member. 

     𝘛𝘈𝘌𝘏𝘠𝘜𝘕𝘎

╴ Drop hits Taehyung on a delay. Giggles and woozy smiles fade into silence as playful aftercare sinks in, and the sparkle in Taehyung’s eyes goes dark. 

╴ It’s thankfully rare━sometimes, though, that light goes dark in the middle of a scene. When it does, you’re wrapping play up, and kissing Taehyung’s shoulders softly to show him you aren’t disappointed.

╴ Taehyung doesn’t think much of drop. At first, it took him off guard. Now, he remembers that excitement followed by depression doesn’t make exceptions for the happiness and wholeness he felt during play. 

╴ Giving Taehyung special attention to help ease him through a harsh subdrop almost makes him balk. Of course, he wants somebody to watch over him, cuddle him, and treat him carefully―but he wants that any time he’s feeling low; not just when it’s tied to kink. There’s almost a jealousy in Taehyung’s quiet. He’s jealous of himself. Treating that disconnect carefully means giving him the affection he needs, but not overwhelming him with love. 

╴ Cuddles, candles, and snacks guide you through a few quiet hours, before it’s time to tuck Taehyung into bed, and trust him with himself.

╴ Taehyung gives his mind, body and soul over to play. Even when you help him segue out of it slowly, the notions of the scene linger. Keeping a word-and-doodle journal in his sub voices helps him slowly sort out his headspace.

╴ Your texts of good morning, good afternoon and good night sit between random lines of poetry and cute videos of animals you send Taehyung. You don’t expect Taehyung to respond to any of it. He has ways of taking care of himself. The gestures are appreciated through Taehyung’s silence. If he needed something, he would be asking for it.

╴ When you’re the one who needs the comfort of knowing how Taehyung feels, asking for a selfie that captures his mood answers your questions.

╴ Occasionally, a notification pops up from Taehyung containing whatever punctuation symbol his finger hit first. It means you’re sending him a promise. You’ll meet up as soon as possible. Even if the two of you just sit in silence at a café, nothing heals Taehyung more than having his silence heard. 

     𝘠𝘖𝘖𝘕𝘎𝘐

╴ “Can you tell me how it felt for you?” Normally, Yoongi’s short doses of subdrop―a few minutes, at most―are cured by answering his questions.“Uplifting. Intoxicating. That was just what I needed, Yoongi.”

╴ Usually, Yoongi likes to hold on to a sliver of alertness through his subbing.  Dropping only clings to Yoongi when he lets himself unmoor into subspace helplessly. If he’s letting himself get lost in it, Yoongi is accepting that inevitability.

╴ There are a handful of things you know Yoongi likes. You stick to that routine, and don’t shake things up. 

╴ Words barely get through to him. You walk him through everything you’re doing, nonetheless. “There’s water in this cup. You need to rehydrate.” You hold the straw against Yoongi’s lips, and wait for him to take a drink. His lips are clumsy. “I’m leaving to make us cups of decaf coffee. I’ll be back in two minutes.” You hold two of Yoongi’s fingers. 

╴ When you return with something to warm Yoongi up, you help him drink his steaming cup. Yoongi is out of it. He looks drunk, he’s acting hungover, and when he slumps against your side for a nap, he’s drooling.

╴ Staying by Yoongi’s side as he naps is the strong, sturdy foundation of the routine. You don’t leave. If a partner disappears once Yoongi’s dropped, disorientation can lead to regret. At worst, it can lead to panic.

╴ Yoongi needs at least a week of rest. He looks forward to text reminders. Questions like Have you done your laundry since the weekend? or Have you stretched in the last hour? slip into his notifications at regular intervals. If his answer is no, he gets a command. They’re reminders to Yoongi that he needs to take care of himself. At their core, they’re reminders that he’s safe, and loved.

╴ Sometimes, Yoongi appreciates meal plans. Yoongi still goes to work―he still goes about the necessary steps of waking up, bathing, and getting dressed―but beyond those rote motions, he isn’t afraid to ask for help, and he isn’t afraid to ask somebody to provide him with measures of control. If he trusts you enough to make him helpless, Yoongi trusts you enough to take care of him. 

╴ Yoongi appreciates your help with occasional dashes of guilt. You push that guilt away. 

╴ “We wanted to do that scene for months,” you remind him. “This is the least I can do, to thank you for going through that.” The sentiment comforts Yoongi in the moment. Once he’s feeling a little more connected, though, you bring the statement back up―with clarification. “It’s not just about these highs and lows. It’s not just about what you can provide me as a sub.” Dashes of guilt have become shy smiles. “I’m thankful for everything, Yoongi. I’m thankful for everything you are.”

     𝘑𝘜𝘕𝘎𝘒𝘖𝘖𝘒

╴ Intense painplay, degradation, dehumanization, or deep dives into baby boy headspace are guaranteed to knock Jungkook over into a long, flat drop.

╴ “It won’t hurt anymore. It’s over. Good boy.” You let him know how amazed you are. “You did so good.” A soft blanket wraps around the parts of Jungkook’s body that aren’t tender. Fuzzy slippers slot onto his feet. You hold Jungkook’s shaking hand, until his eyes dry up.

╴ Long, complete aftercare slows the worst swirls of loneliness, regret and discomfort. When Jungkook cuddles between your legs and you turn on a quiet gameplay playlist or a favorite sequence of breezy movies on his laptop, noise-cancelling headphones over his ears connected to earbuds in yours mean you’re both working through drops―but if Jungkook makes a noise, you’re alert, and ready to listen. By the time you’re soothing a shaving brush over his forehead and throat, Jungkook is falling asleep cradled against you.

╴ Jungkook is a good actor. He doesn’t want you to feel like your efforts during aftercare aren’t enough. Habits of holing up in a dark room, not answering messages, sleeping during the day and spending all night on his computer aren’t unusual. He tells you not to worry. He likes to work his way through days of subdrop by doing his favorite things, and that works best for him.

╴ When Jungkook calls you up one night and says “I need…”―the monotone way he’s pushing out the words is disconcerting. You arrive at his apartment with questions. Your mind is open, and the kit of play and aftercare tools in your backpack is ready for whatever Jungkook asks. The second you walk through the door, you’re wrapping Jungkook’s delayed shivers up in your arms.

╴ Scheduling dates with Jungkook in the days following something deep, dark, or just exhaustive becomes a necessity. It’s over. It’s really over, and there’s nothing he can do to change that. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t need you.

╴ The dates erase time between your moments. Jungkook’s feelings are acknowledged, and protected. He’s sitting between your legs again, and you’re holding his hand. “I need to show you again.” When he whispers those words, you give Jungkook’s hand a squeeze. He needs your voice. “Later. For now, it’s time to rest.” 

     𝘏𝘖𝘚𝘌𝘖𝘒

╴ “It’s like post-concert depression.” Sprawled out on the bed, Hoseok is mumbling. “The experience was so stunning, everything after it just feels like shit.”

╴ Hoseok has to force himself not to associate subdrop with proof that a session was worth his time. He has to force himself not to seek out harsher and harsher subdrop as a sign that his journey into subspace did something right.

╴ Managing Hoseok’s adrenaline rushes is a slow learning process. Your first lesson is simple: the element of surprise gets him far too high. Even if you try to come down from it gently, Hoseok drops like a stone.

╴ If he drops during a scene, Hoseok becomes listless. He gets itchy all over, and his body twitches with the shivering unease of being too out of it to scratch. “You didn’t have to stop. It’s fine,” Hoseok says, “I don’t mind.” You keep track of Hoseok’s limits, and formulate your own boundaries. Your response is flat. “It might be fine for you. But it’s not fine for me.”

╴ Hoseok isn’t shy about the way rises and dips in hormones affect him. He asks for help with the silence of expectation.

╴ He won’t ask for help with words, because he knows he’ll be taken care of. He thinks of it as your job. If a partner doesn’t provide at least a little perfunctory aftercare, Hoseok’s judgement bottles up deep. Resentment builds.

╴ Usually, a few hours of pampering with gentle pets, letting Hoseok eat you out lazily, easily earned orgasms, and a bowl of dark chocolate chunks served with a hot cup of honey-and-lemon infused tea is enough.

╴ Hoseok doesn’t make himself that vulnerable unless he knows he can take care of himself once aftercare has worked its magic. He has a personal checklist of activities, stuffed toys, songs and friends that always make him happy.

╴ Trusting Hoseok means trusting his smile. The charm is infectious. When he starts smiling again, it means he’s content. It means your work here is done.

     𝘑𝘐𝘔𝘐𝘕

╴ Play doesn’t leave much of an imprint on Jimin, once it’s over. Aftercare is easy, sweet, and fluffy. There’s a playlist of videos on his phone that always makes Jimin laugh, and kisses all over that flutter him into sleep. He might be a little needy, but it’s a neediness Jimin embraces happily.

╴ Jimin knows his limits, and he likes to play within them. If a planned session teeters Jimin towards that drop, he lets you know. He understands his levels of physical and emotional tolerance. When he warns you it’s coming, you know you’re in for a long, stressful, night.

╴ “Let’s do that again.” He asks for more, when it’s clear he’s had enough. “This bruise―you made it dark enough, didn’t you?” Hands are asking the questions as much as Jimin’s hoarse whisper, and distant eyes. Jimin’s questions grow needier, and needier. This neediness is different. It’s pained. “Don’t you want more, too? I can see it in your eyes. You want more.” 

╴ Knowledge that he should stop wavers Jimin’s attempts at brattiness. Utter delight has been replaced by implacable feelings of emptiness, and frustration.

╴ Jimin becomes wistful, romantic, and dramatic. He’s trying to fill the void left in his soul with something. Once, you thought wrapping Jimin up in a parka and sunglasses to burn off some exhausted energy on the streets was a good idea. It wasn’t. The PDA nightmare that followed made you want to apologize to every unfortunate stranger who had to witness it.  

╴ Suddenly, Jimin wants to be alone. You stay. If he’s alone, Jimin will start doing things he regrets the next morning. Subdrop texts are far worse than drunk texts. 

╴ If he really tries―really, really tries―Jimin can fight it on his own. There’s no greater relief than knowing he doesn’t have to.

╴ You wait out the mood swings. In an hour or so, they’ll pop. When they do, Jimin disconnects into numbness. A body pillow to hug and soft words of love give him something to wrap around.

╴ Retail therapy with a cause has instantaneous benefits. When Jimin is numb, he wants to feel useful. He’s browsing through charities, and the donation pages of creators he supports. You’re making sure he stays within the predetermined limit he set aside for himself. Feeling like he’s involved in doing something right, and good―it distracts Jimin’s numbness with swells of love.

╴ After a night of rest, you’ll wake up in the morning to find nothing but that love. Clingy demands to pay attention to that love are given the respect they deserve. Careful attention goes both ways, and mixes well with Jimin’s vows to himself. When he asks for more, Jimin’s healing laughter lights up your soul.

     𝘕𝘈𝘔𝘑𝘖𝘖𝘕    𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘢

╴ Subdrop infuses Namjoon’s physicality. He shivers. He goes weak. His hands shake, his limbs are weightless, and he trudges through every movement in slow motion.

╴ He tries to pick himself back up, and put himself back together. He tries to sort through his mind, and be attentive and self-possessed for you. 

╴ Guiding Namjoon through his actions and helping him into the warm bath with you means he’s fighting himself, and trying to nod along, give you a few words, or ask you questions when all you’re giving him is hushes. The fog in his mind is clipping every word on his lips, and spilling out non-sequiturs.

╴ A chatter of his teeth fades, as Namjoon warms up. After you’ve dried him off and made sure his litre bottle of warm water has been sipped at least a quarter way down, you help Namjoon change into a bathrobe, and crawl into bed.

╴ You sleep over at his place for the night. He clings to you. Whenever you wake up, Namjoon’s arm is wrapped over you, or his hand is on your wrist. 

╴ The first time you slept over at Namjoon’s place, he woke up before you, and tried to fry up something to eat. The burn took weeks to heal. His drop is uncoordinated, and forgetful. Accepting that he has to show his appreciation through means other than romantic gestures is painful in every sense. You set an alarm, prepare Namjoon an easy breakfast, and hold his hand over the table through quiet conversation about the night.

╴ The first time you wake up to an outpouring of texts from Namjoon at 4 A.M. ━I love you. I really appreciate you. Please don’t ever think I take you for granted. Please don’t take me for granted. These moments are so important. The emptiness between them will be closed, soon enough.━you're out the door in minutes.

╴ “It’s not that bad,” Namjoon mutters, more to himself, than to you. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.” He glances at the hot water you’re boiling for tea, and the decongestants you rattled out of your medicine cabinet for his runny nose. “You can go home. I’ll be fine.” Letting Namjoon know there’s nowhere you’d rather be than here, taking care of him━It leads to more emotion than you were prepared for.

╴ “These paranoid thoughts… normally, for the sake of sleep, I can force myself to go nihilistic. I can tell myself it doesn’t matter. But I can’t. At night. When I try to sleep. My chest is thumping, but I feel like my soul is spinning above my body, and…” Namjoon glances up at you. You nod. “The fear, and the regret. Regret for the past. Regret for the future. The world is always dangerous. The world is always in chaos. So why does it matter tonight, more than any other night?” Two cups of tea settle on the table, and you sit down to listen.

     𝘚𝘌𝘖𝘒𝘑𝘐𝘕    𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱/𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱 & 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱; 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘢

╴ Topdrop can take you in the middle of a scene. When the thrill Seokjin gives you is too much; when you’ve come, or just gotten so high that you can’t stop the come down━taking care of Seokjin becomes a matter of duty. Ideas that you can make yourself feel something again by going harder on him have to be balled up, and tossed aside.

╴ Seokjin jumps at everything. You give him a few minutes to realize he’s safe. Fearplay has wound him up into a raw, animalistic vulnerability. Those minutes of his eyes adjusting to the light fade back into darkness. A blindfold slips over his eyes, and the warm, weighted blanket draping over his back helps with the shakes. Their presences relax him enough to get food down. Loose limbs mean he’s staying where you guided him down on the floor.

╴ Seokjin is starved, but very few things taste good. He waits patiently for noodles or tiny bites of barbecued pork that hit just right to drift over his lips. The soft touches you’re trailing over the back of his neck satisfy your possessive instincts. It’s a slow reminder to yourself. At some point, you need to let him go.

╴ Sleep drags you down with deep dreams, and wakes you up in the late afternoon. A quiet day of cuddling Seokjin fades back into exhaustion, and another bout of sleep finds you blurring into another afternoon.

╴ You take care of each other. The exertion of stripping away the world and melting into paradise was temporary, and emotions dug up are given room to breathe. Openness, and power━hurt, and healing. Confinement, and freedom.

╴ Seokjin can’t tense his muscles enough to open a can. It’s impossible to speak. He snaps easily, and he apologizes quickly━and you don’t care. Ignoring his temperament, you help him prepare a picnic basket. He doesn’t want to go. You don’t want to go, either.

╴ Seokjin knows what’s good for him. You know what’s good for you. The benefits of the outdoors and sunshine are inarguable. At first, the two of you tried a city park. Loud noises and passing bicycles made Seokjin tense up, until leaving the park was a miserable, time-stretching trudge of not being able to do more than hold Seokjin’s arm, and help him look more put together than he was.

╴ A secluded trail is the perfect fix. Cloud watching, tearing up grass, fighting off insects for Seokjin, and decorating each other with wildflowers and sticks passes the time. In a few hours, you forget why you ever wanted to stay home. The mood always follows. When it does, rolling together for a little heavy petting under the sunset is a fine reward for responsibility.