#I know you don’t care how I feel so I’m trying to just keep my mouth shut

[sorchathered]

He’s in love with the girl

Pairing-Jake Seresin x reader

Warnings- smut and language

A/N- I’m baaaack yall! Here’s a little smutty one shot to tie you over until I post our vampire!bob story! @bobgasm and I have been reading too many cowboy romances lately so here’s a little brother’s best friend romance for ya.

Summary- Jake comes home for the summer and falls head over heels for his bestie’s little sister. How’s he gonna tell him that he thinks she’s the one?

———————————————————————————

He shouldn’t be here.

He knows he absolutely shouldn’t , and yet here he is, body pressed up against your bedroom door with his hands in your hair and your lips on his neck.

Any other girl on earth would have been suitable, but no, Jake Seresin just had to fall in love with his best friend’s baby sister.

He’d come home on leave for a month and had expected it to be just like any other trip to Austin. Bar hopping and wrangling cattle, until you walked into his mama’s house. Freshly graduated from college and looking every bit his type. Gorgeous, smart, funny, and a little bit mean to him; it was like kryptonite to him.

He could lie and say he tried to stay away, but you both know that wasn’t true at all. He was down bad, sneaking quiet moments with you in the barn, stopping by to see you after your shifts at the hospital, midnight drives to nowhere that ended with you both tangled up in the back seat of his truck. Your poor brother didn’t have a damn clue, his own life and family kept him just busy enough to keep him out of the loop, and you’d keep it from him as long as you could. Last thing you wanted was for him to pop the perfect bubble the two of you were in.

It wasn’t like he’d held a torch for you or anything like that, anything untoward he was sure Gavin could dream up just wasn’t true. When he’d been reintroduced to you at the beginning of the summer it was like you were a completely different person, not at all the annoying pre teen girl with her one direction obsession that had followed them around years before. You were a bad ass nurse now, someone who took no shit and he’d been falling over himself to get your attention ever since. You’d brushed him off and tried to stay away, but you couldn’t deny that there was absolutely something there, and when he kissed you for the first time it had scared you just how much you wanted more.

“You’re a goddamn dream you know that?” Jake sighed as you ran your nose along his sharp jawline, hands fumbling with his belt as he let his hands roam over the small of your back down to your ass as he kneaded one and then the other cheek before lifting you into his arms. You let out a shriek and erupted into giggles as he carried you to your bed and spread you out on the worn cross and crown patterned quilt.

“You’re gonna get us both in trouble if you keep manhandling me like this you big oaf, the whole house is gonna think-“

“I don’t give a shit what they think, you could scream my name loud enough that they hear it in town, don’t make a difference to me, sugar. I’m tired of sneaking around; want you to be mine.” He had both hands on your hips, staring down at you like you hung the moon and stars. It stole your breath away, you’d thought he’d just been fooling around with you all summer, just another notch in the Hangman’s belt. But the way he was looking at you, it made things feel very, very real.

“Jake. What about Gavin?” You whispered, and he gave a little shake of his head, trying to rid himself of the spell your half naked body had him under. He needed to get this off his chest, if you wanted what he wanted then Gavin could take a long walk off a short pier for all he cared; he’d get over it eventually.

He eased himself on top of you and swiped a loose hair behind your ear, watching as your body relaxed from his touch. Cocky grin plastered on his pretty face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, he took a deep breath and let the words loose that he’d kept buried deep all summer long.

“You know I love Gavin, I’d go to the ends of the earth for that idiot, but I’d be lying if I said his opinion matters one bit when it comes to this. I want you, y/n. I don’t just want you for the summer, I’ll do long distance, late night phone calls, whatever you’ll let me until I can make this permanent. I never thought I’d be the settling down type but damnit darlin’ I’ve got all sorts of dreams planned for me and you, and if you want that too it doesn’t matter what anyone wants or thinks about us, all that matters is how much I’m totally wrapped around your little finger.”

“But-“ he cut you off by placing his lips on yours, letting his hands slide up your sides to cup your face and stealing your breath.

He wasn’t having it- clearly your stubborn ass wasn’t hearing him, he’d just have to show you instead.

He had you naked and spread out before you could even come up with another coherent thought, golden head of hair buried between your legs as he brought you to the edge…and then stopped.

“Look at me pretty girl, I want your eyes on mine when you come, all those sweet noises you make are for me, no one else you got it?” He was being a giant tease, fingers still buried deep as you tried to fight the urge to smack that stupid grin off his face.

“Fuck- you can’t just stop, I- I need-“

“I know what you need baby, and I’ll give it to you every time. But you’re gonna commit this to memory, no one’s ever gonna get to see you like this ‘cept me ever again, you’re mine, and you know I’m used to getting what I want.” He says with a wink, sliding back down to suck your clit into his hot mouth, watching as you arch your whole body into him with a whine.

“Yours Jake, just yours.”

He felt the sun through the blinds and groaned, it was too damn early and warm all wrapped up in you, but he couldn’t put off his plans forever, there was too much at stake and he’d chicken out if he waited much longer. Pressing kisses to your face and neck he untangled himself from you and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He had to come clean to Gavin, and if it didn’t end up with a black eye he’d call that a win.

He pulled up to the diner on Main that had been home to many a hangover meal and found Gavin lounging in their favorite booth along the back wall, his gruff exterior a complete facade as soon as Jake came in the door. Goofy wide smile splitting his face as he made his way over to the table, but Jake couldn’t bring the smile to his eyes. He’d been ready for battle on the drive here, but now that he was inside he felt his resolve crumble a little. He’d known him since they were in diapers, their moms had been debutantes together for god sake; what was he supposed to do if this ended sour?

Knocked loose from his thoughts as the waitress, Gladys, who was probably here when the town began, brought him a steaming cup of coffee and ruffled his hair. He could do this, he just needed to man up. He’d fought in firefights thousands of miles in the sky, surely this would be easier.

“You’ve been here all summer and I swear it feels like we’ve barely seen you brother, where the hell you been?” Gavin says as he digs into his breakfast, chomping away at his pancakes with no idea what bomb is about to be dropped on him.

Jake wipes his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans as he stares intently on his steaming mug, drawing a shaky breath and preparing for the worst.

“I’ve uh- I’ve been seeing somebody. I know I should’ve been better about keeping in touch, just kinda got caught up in it. It’s why I asked you here bud, gotta talk to you about it before I explode if I’m honest.”

Gavin stops his Joey Chestnut impression long enough to look over Jake’s stoic exterior, and guffaws. Throws his head back and quite literally cackles.

“Ha- oh shit man, I’ve been waiting on you to spill the beans on this shit. You should see your damn face “we need to talk Gav, I’m in love.” Hahaha goddamn, if I’d known all it would take is my sister coming back into town to get you to settle down I'd have tried to play matchmaker years ago.”

Jake nearly drops his mug, eyes bugging out of his head.

“You- you know?! Jesus Christ Gav, I’ve been losing my shit over this for days, way to bury the lead.”

“Oh come on, you two haven’t exactly been subtle. For someone who is supposedly a stealth pilot, you sure don’t know how to hide a relationship. Also, if you’re going to fool around with her at mom and pop’s, might want to remember the walls are paper thin. We found you guys out weeks ago dude.” He goes right back to destroying his plate, like the two of them had been talking about sports scores and not the fact that Jake was definitely fucking Gavin’s baby sister.

“You don’t need my permission, and you definitely have my approval if you were really that worried. She’s harbored a crush for years, doesn’t surprise me in the least that she shot her shot. Just do me a favor, don’t make her wait too long before you propose, she’d probably say yes with a ring made out of napkins from the way she looks at you.”

He didn’t make you wait long at all, and crazy as it all sounded to his squad back in Fightertown when he showed up at the end of block leave with a fiancée, they knew he was hooked from the minute you introduced yourself. You transferred hospitals and made the move to California, and made his empty bachelor pad a home with all your fancy appliances and skincare products he couldn’t pronounce to save his life.

When you both had gotten all the boxes unpacked he laid you down in your shared bed and made love to you like he hoped he’d get to do for the rest of his life, he couldn’t wait to start a life with you, and maybe a baby.. or 5, but that would be a whole other discussion for another day.

———————————————————————————

🏷️ tagging- @roosterforme @nouis-bum @sebsxphia @teacupsandtopgun @sunsetsimpsblog @sio-ina-bottle @kissmecaitie @mynameismckenziemae @senawashere @seitmai-too @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @dizzybee03 @mygyn @jessicab1991 @djs8891 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @86laura11

[bpmiranda]

Tangled (Hugh Jackman)

A/N: fluffy, purely fictional, young!hugh(35s), 18+ f!reader, dog being man’s best friend

It wasn’t a secret that Hugh Jackman had begun to see someone. The paparazzi were always humming around in wait, waiting to catch the slip of a cap that revealed your face, a telling shot of your hair or your eyes. The media had speculations, that was all, and you knew they would be disappointed when they finally came to find out that you were no one special. No one of interest, really. You were his dog walker in New York. Someone he only occasionally spoke to when he was in the States, someone he grew close to from pure necessity. Your shared chats started off completely professional, setting dates and agreements on payment. Then you had begun to update him on the things his dog would do, it was innocent enough, and he appreciated how loving and dedicated you were to caring for his best friend. And then the conversation would shift away from dogs and professionalism to personal questions, nothing more intimate than how long you had lived in the city or what your favorite coffee shop was for a quick afternoon pick me up. Sure, he could’ve googled most of his queries about food or transportation in the city, but why do that if he could have the personal opinion of a local?

“Take 5th, then? Not 6th?” He asked you on the phone, already at the location he had been searching for, but simply not ready to end the call with you.

“Not unless you’d like to be harassed into buying subpar tourist souvenirs by street vendors.” You laughed and he couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face. “Did you find it?” You ask him, returning his attention which had drifted into the other sounds you make that often captivate him.

“Uh, yes, found it.” Hugh looked around at the little French bakery he was sitting in and nodded to himself. “Quite lovely. Won’t you join me?” He asked, throwing caution to the wind.

You bite your lip as you muse over the proposition. “What about the paparazzi?” You ask as you nervously wring your hands on the leash handle tethering you to his dog.

Hugh can’t help, but tease. “No, I don’t want to have lunch with them. I want to have lunch with you.”

Another laugh echoes through the phone line and his heart swells at the melody of it. Lord, he is in the deep end about you. “I think I should just drop him off at your place. I’d hate to get you caught on some TMZ tabloid over dating your dog sitter.”

Hugh chuckles softly, aware of your trepidations and unbelievably taken with the sense of privacy you think he’s got now. “We’re not that far apart in age, darling. It wouldn’t be the scandal you think and I assure you, I’ve got no problem getting a few pictures taken, especially of us together.” He says and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“I would say a decade is about as large as is socially acceptable.” You quip, trying to mask the fact that you’re incredibly flustered with him.

But his laughs tells you he knows you’re more anxious of him than of the cameras. “Tell you what. Let me grab you a coffee from here and I’ll meet up with you in the park? It’ll seem as if I’m simply picking him up, no possible misconceptions. Yes?”

You couldn’t very well say no to that. It would seem innocent enough, so you agreed. It was incredibly difficult to keep things casual in public when all you wanted was to kiss him, touch him, hold onto him as you made out on some park bench. But it would have to wait until you were no longer in the public eye. “Thanks again for taking him to the vet.” Hugh says as the two of you stroll around the park. “You know you don’t have to keep doing this. I’m happy to hire someone else. It could free us up to do other things.”

You give him a warning look and he simply grins at you, that ever so charming grin. “Then what would my excuse be for hanging around with you?”

“You don’t need an excuse, darling.” Hugh’s eyes scan over you, noting the way your leggings cling to your thighs and ass, your sports jacket snug against your breasts and your waistline. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands off you.”

“Hugh,” You whisper as he suddenly stands in front of you. His deep green eyes look down lovingly at you as he tries to take the leash from your hand, he dips his head down, and you feel his lips brush the apple of your cheek. “The cameras.” You urge, aware of the few men following you at a respectable, but obvious distance since you met up.

“It’s not like they don’t already suspect us.” He reasons, his other hand coming up to your waist and you still cling to the leash he is taking from you. “Let me kiss you.” He more orders than asks and you look up at him warily. “I love to spend time with you. I can’t keep sneaking around.”

Before you can answer, his dog barks loudly and tries to make a run for what you believe was a squirrel or some other dog. His leash tangles around yours and Hugh’s legs and you’re forced into his embrace as he catches you while you fall into him. The two of you laugh as you untangle yourselves from the leash and you playfully scold his dog before Hugh suddenly wraps an arm around you and brings you into a kiss. Your body melts against his as you return the gesture and you find yourself smiling as you hear the incessant shuttering of cameras in the distance. “Guess it’s out there now.” You whisper as you pull away, breathless while you look up at him dreamily.

“Guess it is.” He grins almost triumphantly as he refuses to let you go and leans down to kiss you again. More sweetly and slowly and you think you might faint from the romance of it all. Before you continue your stroll, Hugh bends down and caresses his dog’s head. “Good boy.”

This was based on a request! I love bf!hugh🥹💕

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part two ]

[ a continuation of part one ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1875

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

in any other circumstances, you wouldn’t even dare to imagine holding a man you had just met the same day.

but stan … was different.

when your eyes first locked with his from across the counter, you could tell that he was hurting, and badly. he was trying so hard to cover it up, and it worked for the most part — after all, up until now, nobody had cared about him enough to see through his facade.

but you saw straight through him. and not only that, you actually did something about it. you offered to care for his needs, at your own expense.

his father only ever saw him as an expense.

so, there you were, sitting at the bar, holding onto the maroon fabric of his jacket as he trembled like a leaf.

the scent of cigarette smoke and pine needles was strong in your nose as he buried his face into your shoulder. you could feel his stubble scratching against your skin.

there was a part of you that wanted to speak up and comfort him, but ultimately you decided against it. you didn’t quite know enough about him to be able to speak to his situation.

after a few minutes, stan seemed to be calming down. his breathing became even, although he was still clinging onto you tightly.

“i …”

his voice was cracked and raspy.

“i … screwed up. i don’t … know how i’m gonna fix it.”

your brow furrowed as you listened to him.

“y’know, stan … i don’t know what you’re going through. but can you do me one favor?”

“... yeah?”

“look at me.”

slowly, the brunet lifted his head, pulling himself back just enough to be able to look at you. his eyes were red and puffy, but his gaze was sincere.

you looked back at him, determined. “i’m gonna help you out.”

stan didn’t know how to react. he swallowed a lump in his throat, scanning your face as if to check whether you were lying to him or not.

“... you don’t … hafta do that. i brought it on myself—”

“i don’t care.”

his eyes widened.

“if i can keep somebody from a worse fate, then i’ll do it. let me give you a place to stay, even if it’s just for a little while.” you smiled warmly, squeezing his arm for emphasis. “you shouldn’t have to feel like your life means nothing.”

“… you’re an angel.”

those words made you blush. “i–i wouldn’t say that—”

uh-oh, he’s smirking now. chuckling lowly, he let go of you so that he could cross his arms over his chest.

“what, are you tryna tell me you’re not sent from heaven? think about it. you’re saving my biscuits here, toots.” there was serious gratitude in his tone, despite his teasing. at least he seemed to be in a better mood. “i think i’ll hafta call you that more often, yeah? angel.”

you laughed nervously, trying desperately to distract yourself from your red hot face. “really? h–how interesting …”

stan snickered again, gazing at you for a moment longer with fondness dancing in his brown eyes. then, glancing at the wall clock, he realized the time. “damn, it’s midnight. i should probably stop bothering you ‘nd get to bed, huh?”

“huh, it is late … i should sleep, too.”

“then it’s decided. i’ll see ya tomorrow.” he hummed, standing from his seat and stretching out his arms before cracking a soft smile and turning around to walk towards his room.

you were left to watch him leave, your eyes following his footsteps as he made his way back up the staircase.

approximately eight hours later, you awoke to the sunlight gently filtering through your bedside window, causing your eyelids to flutter open.

the events of last night came flooding back into your mind.

i guess i’ll be seeing a whole lot more of him …

sitting up in bed, you yawned, rubbing your face sleepily.

“mm … what time is it …”

the alarm clock on your nightstand read 8:02 am.

shoot, i overslept—oh, wait. it’s my day off.

that little fact was enough to put you in a good mood for the morning. humming happily to yourself, you began to get ready for the day, picking out a comfortable outfit and a few accessories.

descending two flights of stairs, you wandered into the lobby of your inn, greeting a few different patrons and employees with a cheerful wave. it was breakfast rush hour for the kitchen, and you could catch glimpses of your executive chef running to and fro behind the bar.

he seems pretty busy today. maybe i’ll grab a bite to eat somewhere? hmm, but the question is where …

just then, your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone calling out your name.

you whipped around to locate the voice’s source, and there was stan, walking towards you at a leisurely pace. a radiant grin broke out on your face.

“stan! hey, good morning! how’d you sleep?”

raising a brow, he chuckled at your energy. “well, good morning, sunshine. i slept like a baby, thanks t’ you.”

“ah, don’t mention it.” you smiled, placing your hands on your hips. “i’m just glad you could sleep.”

the two of you looked at each other for a second.

why did his stare make you feel butterflies in your chest?

probably unimportant ………… right? yeah.

clearing your throat, you averted your gaze before you started to blush again. “so, um … have you had anything to eat yet?”

“nah. i was just about to, though.” to be frank, he had totally forgotten that he had access to breakfast until you just mentioned it.

“sounds goo–”

you paused mid-sentence, remembering something.

“actually … i was planning on eating out for breakfast today. would you wanna join me? since the kitchen is bustling and all …”

oh, wow. did you really just ask him out to breakfast? it didn’t hit you until after you had said it out loud that it could be considered that way. oops. was that weird? were you weird? augh.

stan had half a mind to tease you senseless for how cute that was, but after thinking about it, he decided against it. he wouldn’t wanna ruin his chances at having breakfast with you.

“you kiddin’? i’d love that.” he nodded his head, flattered and amused. “not many people can say they’ve had breakfast with an angel, ya know.”

your ears turned red.

i walked right into that one. darn you and your smooth talking …

“oh, let’s just go already.” embarrassed, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him along towards the front door. stan laughed heartily, allowing himself to be led.

it wasn’t long before you arrived at one of your favorite diners in town, known for their homey atmosphere and good breakfast. walking into the building, you were met with the smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee. the two of you breathed it in simultaneously, sighing.

“reminds me of breakfast as a kid.” stanley mused, thinking of the days when he and ford would poke at each other’s food and giggle. you smiled, watching his expression.

“c’mon, this way.” you beckoned him over towards the table you usually sat at, and a familiar waitress walked over to you as you settled in.

“good morning, loyal patron~ i see you’ve brought a plus one today, yes?”

“uh—yes. don’t go jumping to conclusions, though …”

the waitress grinned innocently. “of course. now, what can i get for you two?”

stan wound up ordering pancakes with bacon and eggs, while you settled on some waffles and a mug of coffee. you could have sworn you saw that waitress giggling to her coworker about something as she went on her way, but you shook your head to yourself in an attempt to ignore it. instead, you directed your attention towards the man sitting across from you.

“so, i’m guessin’ you’re a regular here?” he tilted his head, leaning back against his seat. there was a smirk plastered onto his face that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“you would guess correctly.” you hummed, picking up the salt shaker on the table and fidgeting with it absentmindedly. “have you ever been?”

a rumbling sigh escaped his lips.

“nah … i’m not exactly from around here.”

your gaze was trained on him. so far, he’s kept a laid-back demeanor, not to mention that little smirk that drives you insane—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was way more depth to his character than he let on.

“yeah? where’re you from?”

“...”

there was a brief silence. his chocolate brown eyes, warmly lit by the sun, stared into your soul.

“i’m from new jersey.”

your eyebrows shot up. “from jersey? wow … you’re far from home, then.”

“it’s not home anymore.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again. stan was staring out the window, a frown creasing his face.

“i … sorry. sensitive topic?”

he turned back to you, a faint blush appearing on his face. “uh … well, yeah, i guess … it’s okay.”

“come again?”

“... it’s, uh—i–i’m okay, if it’s you.”

he was a darker shade of red now, scratching awkwardly at his stubble. he felt so … vulnerable. but somehow, he was okay with it.

at that moment, the waitress came back with plates of food. “order up!”

you watched as you were served, salivating as you saw golden waffles covered in butter and syrup smiling up at you. it didn’t take long for the both of you to start digging in.

“... wow.” after the first few bites, stan had stars in his eyes. “it tastes just like ma’s.”

“was your mom a good cook?”

he snorted. “well, she wasn’t exactly a michelin star chef, but she could make some damn good flapjacks. at least, i sure thought so.” putting another forkful of pancake into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. you simply propped your head on one hand, watching.

“i always told her she could sell ‘em for a fortune.”

his tone was soft with nostalgia.

“she just laughed. prob’ly cause i was five when i told her that.”

“they must’ve been really something, huh?”

“they were. all my life, i dreamt of selling somethin’ as good as that. i haven’t stopped trying, either.”

he scoffed.

“most of ‘em have been a bust.”

you hummed softly in understanding.

“you’re still trying, though. that’s worth more than any failed effort.”

he looked up from his plate. “... you think so?”

“sure i do.” lifting your mug, you took a sip of coffee. “perseverance is worth a lot.”

stan could barely handle your uplifting words. his heart was squeezing in his chest. covering his flustered face with one hand, he leaned against the table, grumbling.

“... an angel … God sent an angel.”

“what?”

“what? nothing.”

a few hours later, you were walking side by side back to the inn. stan couldn’t help but admire the way the fall breeze tousled your hair, and the gentle smile on his face was speaking his thoughts out loud.

he’d never known that somebody this beautiful could even exist.

maybe ...

maybe he hasn’t hit rock bottom quite yet.

end

author's note:

thank you for all the love on this fic !!! :D

part three ....????? any part three hopefuls out there?

i gotta keep cooking.

if you have any fic or headcanon requests, hit up my askbox! <3

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 6 🕸 Story A

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: this is Peter's side of the story.

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Um...” you drone dumbly at Peter. “I don’t know.” 

He stares back at you. He looks scared, “you don’t know?” 

“I’m sorry, I...” the raucous party rumbles on inside the walls. “I can’t think here.” 

“Hey, let me grab my jacket, we can talk outside,” he offers. “Wait, where’s your coat? You can’t go out like that?” 

You look down and realise you left your jacket inside. In fact, he took it. You shrug and he holds up a finger.  

“Please, just give me a chance.” 

You nod. What else can you do? He rushes back through the door and you turn away. You try to ignore the couple sloppily lapping at each other’s mouths. 

You don’t know what to think. You can barely cling to a coherent thought. Bucky’s warning echo in your head. Isn’t this proof? There are other girls, not just you. Yet, you keep asking yourself why you care about them. Peter asked you to be his lab partner, not his girlfriend. 

In fact, no one has ever asked you to be their girlfriend. Why would they? You’re quiet and boring. You shrink back against the wall and peer down at the floor. You should just tell Peter to go back to MJ. 

He appears and your resolve rots away. He only has his coat. “Hey, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find your coat. I looked all over. The green one right? With the orange buttons? I don’t know what happened but take mine.” 

He holds you his jacket, “Oh, it’s fine. I can’t--” 

“Now what kinda jerk would I be if I let you go cold?” He insists. “I’ll be fine. Really. I like the cold.” 

You blink and take the jacket. You don’t like arguing. You already feel bad enough after barging in on him and MJ. You can’t stop thinking of it. God. It feels so... wrong. 

He walks you down the hall. You’re both silent. You keep distance between you as you get to the elevator and ride it without saying a word. You go out into the lobby and as you get to the front door, you grab the front of his jacket and start to push it off. 

“Please, keep your coat. I should go home--” 

“Just hear me out, okay?” He begs and stops you from taking off the coat. “Please.” 

You face him and dip your chin, “okay.” 

He sighs. You peek up from under your eyelids. He smiles nervously, cheeks pinkening, and he shifts his weight on his feet. He clears his throat. 

“Look, I’m an idiot. I went into that room with MJ. I know how she is. I’m not going to play victim here. All I can say is it won’t happen again.” His jaw ticks, “I’m a dummy. I was... I was so nervous about talking to you. I know you hate parties but I thought if I was drinking I could just tell you how I feel. And of course, it just made me stupid.” 

Your mouth falls open. He can’t be saying what you think he is. Right?

Before you can respond, the door to the lobby opens and you look over as MJ struts out. Her long legs are toned in her heels and her short leather skirt. Her hair is perfect and her makeup brings out her natural colouring. She’s perfect and you’re wearing a pleated skirt. 

You look at Peter again and deflate. 

“Peter,” MJ approaches, “why’d you run off?” 

“MJ,” he sighs, “I told you--” 

“What did you tell me before you had my tongue down your throat?” She smirks. 

“Stop,” he snips. “I said no.” 

“But you didn’t stop me,” she scoffs. “And now what? You’re scurrying around with her? Really? Her?” 

“Don’t be mean,” Peter steps between you and her, as if he’s trying to hide you. 

“You call it mean, I call it honesty,” she chirps back. 

“Get out of here. You weren’t even invited,” he snarls as he reaches back and latches onto your wrist. 

“When did you turn into such a fucking loser?” She snips and shoves him.  

He collides with you but takes most of the impact. She stomps out in her clunky heels as you turn to watch her. She doesn’t look back. 

Slowly, you spin back to Peter, “are you alright?” 

“Yeah, fine,” his shoulders droop. “Look, I get it. I screwed up. I don’t want to ruin the rest of your night. I already dragged you here. Just, take my coat, get home safe. Be done with me.” 

His eyes twinkle wetly and his nose twitches. He looks like he could cry. As small as you are, he seems even smaller in that moment. 

“You didn’t let me answer,” you say. 

His forehead lines in confusion and his lips open wordlessly. 

“I... I’m surprised is all. It’s been a weird night and...” You sway and fold your hands. “I’m kind of a mess myself. I really don’t do well in crowds. I know you know that.” You try to smile. “And I know it’s lame but... I really do try and...” you look away and your cheeks heat up. “I don’t think I would if I didn’t like you too.” 

Another suffocating silence sucks the air out of the room. You fidget and stare at your boots. You wince as Peter steps closer. He surprises you as he pulls the jacket closed and does up the zipper. As the tab reaches the top, he taps your chin and you look up at him shyly. 

“Can I walk you home?” He asks as he brushes his hand down the sleeve and tickles your fingers. 

A full smile breaks through and you nod giddily, “sure.” You grab onto his hand, vibrating in vibrant excitement. Can he feel you shaking? 

“You still cold?” He asks as he tugs you towards the door. You shake your head but as you step outside, he puts his arm over your shoulder and pulls you close. He walks you down the pavement as a blistering wind blows around you. “Gotta keep my girl warm, huh?” 

“Your... girl?” You squeak. 

He hums and squeezes you tight, “all mine.” 

[cordeliawhohung]

I’m taking advantage of this open request inbox and am requesting a Simon and chip carving pumpkins because because because because because idk

pumpkin carving | an In Limbo extra | simon riley x reader | fluff

happy fall <3

A silvery sheen glints off of blades in the amber light of the kitchen. 

Sterile. Laid flat. Spoons made for gouging litter the countertop next to toothpicks and bowls. These are tools for gutting. Tools made for hurting. Ripping out entrails and the essence of life in ivory seeds and webby viscera. 

Victims sit in perfect silence atop the counter. Cold. Unknowing. Unable to speak.

“It’s pumpkin carving, sweetheart. Not surgery.” 

“You take it… very seriously,” you humor. 

Simon’s smirk gleams brighter than the knives sitting near his fingertips. There are very few times when you’ve caught that ardent excitement brewing in the depths of his eyes, but you never expected him to be so ecstatic about carving pumpkins. 

“Course. This is a serious occasion,” he deadpans. 

“Uh huh.” 

Knuckles tap against the two pumpkins in front of you. He must have found the two largest ones at the market. Fresh and unblemished, they’re so big you swear they’ll burst. Their circumference trumps that of Simon’s own noggin. If you hollowed one out and put it on his head, he’d look like some blinded astronaut. 

“Want me to cut your top off for you?” he asks. The blades adorning the counter are long, yet Simon’s hands dwarf them as he picks one up. 

“My top, or the pumpkin’s?” you quip. 

The next time he smirks, his teeth peek between his lips. “Whichever one you want, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, and it isn’t long before blades are sunk into taut orange flesh. Stems cut away, the fibrous strands are left exposed beneath the unforgiving lights above you. Tilting the pumpkin, you dip your hand into its guts. Nothing but sinew and cold goop greet you, and you try to hide your discomfort in the way it burrows beneath your nails. You toss the entrails into a bucket where they fester and sit. 

“How do you do this for fun?” you question, looking at the mess in the palm of your hands. “The texture makes my teeth hurt.” 

“Had worse on my hands before,” Simon admits. He’s using the side of a spoon to scrape and thin out the walls of his pumpkin, nearly twenty steps ahead of you.

“Dare I ask?” you mumble as you shake your hands. 

“Used to be a butcher,” he shrugs. 

“I feel like a butcher now.” 

“Least you don’t smell like one.” 

He helps thin the walls of your pumpkin when it’s sufficiently gutted. Black sleeves ripple and curl around his biceps, having rolled them up to keep them clean. Forearms exposed, you watch the muscle dance. Tendons pull taut as his arm moves repetitively back and forth. He’s so involved with the work he doesn’t catch sight of you staring. Gawking. You hate the feeling of pumpkin guts caught in your fingers, but you think you could watch him carve them all day. 

Next, he has you plan out your design by poking guide holes with toothpicks. Simon has a system. Expertly planned and thought out. He tells you how much Joseph loves carving pumpkins, and how Beth was the one who came up with the idea with the toothpicks. It’s hard to drive back to Manchester just for pumpkin carving, but now he has you now to partake in the Halloween festivities with him. 

“Careful now,” Simon warns. “Just sharpened them earlier, yeah?” 

“I know how to use knives, Si.” 

Hands up in playful defense, he lets you get to work. 

Simon is an artist, you learn. Really, it shouldn't surprise you that he takes an interest in it, saying how nearly half of his body is covered in sharp designs and ink. It’s nice watching him work. Brows furrow with focus while deft fingers transform a simple gourd into a sculpture — he looks like a work of art himself. 

Chiseled out of marble with pick and hammer, the hands that made him were clumsy, yet you’d kiss them all the same. Just the same as you’d kiss the crooked bridge of his nose and the deep settled scars and keloids that jut from his body. The soft curve of his abdomen. The rigid lines along his back. 

“Ow, fuck…”

“What’d I tell ya?” 

You’d even kiss that stupid smirk on his face. 

It vanishes the moment he sees the blood drip from the side of your finger, choosing instead to coo and corral you out of the kitchen. Arguing with him, you tell him it’s not as bad as it looks as he sits you on the sofa in the living room, but he doesn’t listen. It isn’t long before he’s knelt in front of you, wiping the blood clean and patching up your trivial wound. 

“Gotta prevent cross contamination,” he says just as the blood stops flowing. 

“Cross contamination?” you repeat. 

“Yeah, between you and the patient.” It takes everything within you not to scoff at him as he secures a band-aid around your finger. “Y’know, I always thought surgeons had steadier hands than that.” 

“Insulting my work?” 

“You might never practice medicine again.” 

This time you truly flout him with a huff. He’s finished patching you up but he stays knelt before you, pinching your finger between his own as if he can’t quite cauterize the wound. 

“Anythin’ else I can do for you, doctor?” he hums. 

Sighing, you look over your shoulder toward the kitchen. Your oversized squash sits midway through surgery with a half formed eye. “Might as well finish up my work for me. You know, since my license is about to be revoked.” 

Simon gets you to look back at him as he gently tugs on your finger. You watch as he raises your hand to his lips where they gently curl around your digit in a kiss. His eyes don’t stray from you for a moment. Unrelenting. Adoring. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

You’re left sitting there with a sliced finger that burns with the weight of a kiss as he goes to finish carving your pumpkin. It’s too late to worry about contamination; you’re already afflicted with warmth. Some raging sickness that leaves your skin on fire. Still, you thumb over the fox themed band-aid with a smile as your lips begin to tingle in jealousy. 

[springgirlshowers]

Tell Your Lucky One

Pairing: Joost Klein x GN!Reader (no prns used!)

CW: crying, just emotional angsty shit

WC: 832

A/N: lil angsty song fic, listen to Beach Baby by Bon Iver if you haven’t 🙏🏻🙏🏻 this has been in my drafts for a hot min so here you go! ignore how i used the same prompt i did in my last fic 😭😭

“Liefje, you know these dates were planned months ago.” Joost sighed, rolling his suitcase by the couch while you waited in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I know, I just didn’t know the time was gonna pass so quick.”

“It’ll pass quickly when I’m gone too. I’ll be back home before you know it.” He said, entering the doorway. Joost sat down next to you,

“Two months.” You whispered, trying to convince yourself it wouldn’t be that long.

“Teuns gonna pick me up tonight and then I’ll have to get going.” You purposely didn’t ask what specific time he was leaving, you didn’t want to. You knew if he was leaving at a certain time you’d spend the whole night dreading the hour.

The sun was already setting, casting a golden glow on his face.

“I’ll text you and video chat every night, whenever I can. Maybe, I’ll even call you on stage.” He teased, tickling the side of your waist.

“There’s a smile!” He grinned when you squirmed away and giggled a bit.

You shuffled closer, throwing your legs over his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his shoulder.

You stayed there for a little, silent while Joost rubbed your back. Joost felt a few drops hit his shirt, he craned his neck to look at you.

“Hey, don’t cry liefje.” He cupped your face, wiping away the tears.

“I’m sorry.” You said, sniffling. “I’m just gonna miss you so much.” You didn’t mean to say it through a sob. Joost made a sympathetic noise.

His heart broke, he desperately wanted to bring you along, but he really couldn’t bring any more people on this tour and you had your own responsibilities to take care of.

“The two months will go by so fast you won’t even realize.” He tried to give you a smile.

You felt stupid crying over this, feeling like a child again, sitting in his lap and crying over a dropped lollipop.

You turned your face to the side, trying to hide it from him.

“Hey, look at me. I wanna see you.” You shook your head.

“I don’t look pretty when I cry, my face gets all pink and blotchy.” You said through a sad laugh. He brought his fingers under your chin, pulling your gaze back to him.

“I love your face, even if it’s all pink and blotchy.” He kissed the tip of your nose, you smiled.

You maneuvered yourself off of him, going back to your original spot next to him. Sitting in silence once again.

“Can you do one favor for me?” You looked at your hands, too nervous to look at him.

“Ja, ja of course.” He tried to look in your eyes.

“Just don’t lock the door when you go, I don’t want to hear you leaving.” You said softly.

Joost wanted to refuse and tell you how it was a risk. But you lived in a quiet and safe area.

And if it helped keep him from breaking your heart any more, he would do it for you.

“Okay.” He said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. It hurt how he noticed the way you didn’t lean into the kiss like you always would. You only sat there silent, staring at your fidgeting hands.

“Will you just lay with me for a little bit?” You finally looked at him, lip pouting a tiny amount. He let out a hum of agreement.

You both moved to the top of the bed, shuffling under the sheets. His chest pressed against your back, holding onto your waist so tightly.

You grabbed one of his hands, intertwining your fingers, and holding his and your hand against your chest.

Trying desperately to keep any more tears from escaping, you shut your eyes.

Staying there, so comfortable and so tired. You eventually drifted off into sleep, you didn’t mean to.

Joost didn’t wake you, knowing you didn’t want to see him leave. Once 8PM arrived, Joost carefully removed his arms from you. Walking around the bed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and tucking the sheets over you. So gentle to not wake you up, only making you stir a bit.

He did as you asked, closing the door as quietly as he could, not locking it before he stepped down the stairs.

You woke up later than you expected, it was nearly ten by the time you turned over and your eyes fluttered open. Instead of being met with Joosts warm body, it was only the cold empty sheets next to you.

You slowly got up and out the bed, going into the living room as you rubbed your eyes of sleep. His suitcase and bags gone.

Sitting down on the couch, you took in the moonlight peeking through the blinds and the sad quietness of the apartment. Hoping these two months would go by as quick as he said they would.

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Blake Quotes

BLAKEY POOOOO ♡ sassy man

“You’re the brightest spot in my life. You always have been, even when you’re so far away I can barely see the glow.”

“Charming friend you got there. [he’s shaking in his boots]”

“That’s a one-way ticket to ending up in a spiral!”

“Whatever you need of me. I’ll give it, provided you save my love.”

“Questions aren’t really necessary right now, so how about you just sit there and look pretty, hmm?”

“Do you want me to show you exactly what magic can do when it’s not on your side?”

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what I want too. [goofy goofy chuckle]”

“You make me smile, you make me happy. I like being with you. That’s enough.”

“I can’t always keep my head above the water, but being with you is like… having an air tank. I might be below the surface, but I’m still getting oxygen. You’re that oxygen that keeps me going when I’m under."

“I told you, it was nothing... All right, let me clarify, it’s not “nothing”, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“I’m all yours.”

“Your little fuckbuddy-"

“It didn’t feel like a mistake to me. It felt like… someone switching on the lights, and suddenly realizing that I’d been standing in the dark all that time before. It felt like life was suddenly in colour.”

“it felt like I got a taste of everything I’d ever wanted, the most amazing feeling I’d ever experienced and then the next morning, I didn’t just lose the chance at that, I lost my best friend.”

“I’m tired of the dance. I just miss my friend.”

“I can’t be another mistake. Because it’ll break me.”

“You know me, you know how I am.”

“If we’re together, I’ll do everything for you, and I’ll give you everything I can, I’ll give you time and patience, if you need to be with your own thoughts, I’ll give you quiet, but I won’t be able to give you space.”

“The things I think about you, how much I want you… it’s the stuff you’re not supposed to say out loud. The stuff you’re never supposed to admit to feeling.”

“Just sitting at the table one morning, having breakfast when you realized, Oh wait, who's that voice in my head? Must be an ancient, unknowable force in Death. Guess I'll go back to my oatmeal.”

“What are you doing?”

“You would dirty their fucking name by speaking it.”

“if you pick this, it’ll be all of me. All of it. And we both know a lot of that’s not pretty.”

“I’ll get that smile on those pretty lips in the morning, just you wait.”

“I’m not worried you’ll try something. You don’t constitute a meaningful threat in my book. Sorry to bruise your ego.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“I’m not that fucking stupid. [He is]”

“Congratulations, someone please get the gentleman a door prize.”

“You can’t matter.”

“You're going to learn when to shut the fuck up. And spoiler alert, tied up, on the ground, with your powers inhibited? That's one of those times.”

“Wouldn’t that be cute?”

“I sleep easy in the arms of the person I love. Knowing that everything I’ve done, everything I do, I do for them.”

“I never stopped loving you, I’m still back there, I’m still just this scared kid telling you he fucking loves you.”

“Cute. Are you going to keep wasting time with passive aggression or do you actually have something to tell me?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Yeah, all for you. All of it. [ft D’Deridahn calling him horny in the background]”

[calirph]

𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

key words were relationship, tension, denial and romance, forbidden. there are 69 mid flirtacious and then 69 explicit prompts. you can change names and pronouns as you see fit.

69 Flirtatious to Explicit Dialogue Prompts:

"You know, I've always been drawn to people who are dangerous."

"You keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you're interested."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were flirting with me."

"Your lips look... distracting."

"Do you really want me to leave, or are you just saying that?"

"How close do I have to get before you admit you want me here?"

"Careful, if you keep touching me like that, I might forget we're just talking."

"It's hard to focus when you're sitting so close."

"I don't bite... unless you ask nicely."

"You think I didn't notice the way you've been staring all night?"

"I wonder what you'd do if I kissed you right now."

"There's something about the way you say my name..."

"I bet you'd look even better out of that outfit."

"Don't you think it's a bit hot in here? Or is that just you?"

"I love the way your skin feels against mine."

"If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so."

"You're making it very hard to behave."

"How much longer are we going to pretend there's nothing here?"

"I can feel your heart racing. You're not as calm as you're pretending to be."

"You think you're the only one who can't stop thinking about this?"

"You keep teasing, but we both know where this is going."

"Is this really what you want? Because once I start, I won't be able to stop."

"I love the way you blush when I get close."

"Do you always flirt with danger, or is this just for me?"

"There's something I want to do, but I'm not sure you're ready for it."

"You can try to resist me, but we both know how this ends."

"Your body tells me everything your words don't."

"I dare you to come just a little bit closer."

"You're tempting me in ways you don't even realize."

"What if I told you I’ve been thinking about you all day?"

"Let me show you just how good this could be."

"I've been waiting all night to get you alone."

"The way you're looking at me... it's almost like you're daring me."

"You don't have to say anything, but your body is speaking for you."

"You know where this is headed, right?"

"I’ve been patient, but I’m not sure how much longer I can wait."

"Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you."

"What if I kissed you right here? Would you stop me?"

"I can't stop thinking about the way you'd feel under me."

"You want me, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes."

"If you're going to tease me, at least be ready for the consequences."

"Every time you touch me, it’s like you’re daring me to lose control."

"It’s not fair the way you make me feel when you’re this close."

"I want to hear you say you want me."

"Don’t be shy. You can tell me what you’ve been thinking."

"You know, I love the way you taste."

"Your skin is so soft… I can’t wait to explore more."

"I can feel how much you want this."

"What if I told you I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time?"

"Are you going to keep teasing me, or are you finally going to do something about it?"

"The way you tremble when I touch you... I could get used to that."

"We shouldn’t... but it’s the only thing I can think about."

"You're playing with fire, and we both know how this ends."

"I want to hear you moan my name."

"Your lips are driving me crazy... I can’t take it anymore."

"If you keep this up, I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands."

"I can’t stop imagining the way you'd feel pressed against me."

"Tell me you want this as much as I do."

"I love the way your breath hitches when I get closer."

"We both know this is inevitable, don’t we?"

"I’ve been thinking about you all night. It’s time to make those thoughts a reality."

"You're making it very hard to resist you."

"Do you like the way I make you feel?"

"All I can think about is what comes next."

"I want to feel every inch of you."

"You don’t have to say a word. Just show me how much you want this."

"I love the way your body reacts when I touch you."

"I’ve been patient long enough. Now it’s my turn."

"If you’re ready, I’ll give you everything you’ve been waiting for."

50 Actions from Flirtatious to Explicit:

Brushing their hand lightly against the other's as they talk.

Gently placing a hand on their lower back, guiding them through a crowded room.

Leaning in close enough to whisper, but not touching.

Tracing the outline of their lips with a fingertip.

Lightly tugging on their shirt, pulling them closer.

Running fingers through their hair, grazing the scalp just enough to leave them breathless.

Pressing a knee against theirs under the table, keeping eye contact.

Letting a hand linger on their shoulder just a second too long.

Grazing lips against the curve of their ear, barely touching.

Running a hand up their arm, tracing the muscles.

Slipping fingers under their collar, teasing the edge of their neckline.

Gently trailing fingertips down their spine.

Squeezing their hand just a little tighter while walking.

Holding their gaze, slowly licking their lips.

Lightly biting their lip after a kiss, pulling back with a smirk.

Tucking a strand of their hair behind their ear, letting fingers brush the skin.

Pinning them against a wall, hands braced on either side.

Pressing their lips softly to the back of their hand.

Gripping their waist, pulling them into an embrace that lingers just a bit too long.

Brushing their lips along the side of their neck, testing their reaction.

Grazing a thumb over their pulse point.

Tugging at their belt, teasing without going further.

Running hands over their chest, tracing patterns through their clothes.

Slowly sliding a hand down their arm, interlacing fingers.

Leaning in, breath hot against their lips before pulling away.

Letting fingertips dance along their jawline.

Sinking teeth lightly into their shoulder, marking them gently.

Running a hand along the curve of their hip, squeezing slightly.

Sliding a hand up the inside of their thigh, stopping just short of their goal.

Whispering close to their ear while caressing the nape of their neck.

Lightly nipping at their earlobe before kissing a path down their neck.

Letting hands roam over their body, exploring curves and planes.

Pressing a hand flat against their chest, feeling their heartbeat speed up.

Hooking fingers into the waistband of their pants, pulling them closer.

Tucking a thumb under their chin, lifting their face for a kiss.

Pulling them into a heated kiss, hands gripping their hair.

Slipping hands beneath their shirt, caressing their bare skin.

Sliding a hand between their thighs, applying gentle pressure.

Tugging them closer by the waistband, teasing with a slow grind.

Nuzzling against their neck, inhaling their scent before lightly biting.

Guiding their hands to roam, showing them where they can touch.

Tracing patterns on their skin with lips and teeth, leaving a trail of heat.

Grabbing their hips and pulling them flush against their body.

Letting fingers slide under their clothes, exploring sensitive spots.

Wrapping arms around them, hands pressing into their back as they kiss.

Grazing a hand over their thigh, applying slow, deliberate pressure.

Tugging at their shirt, lips grazing their collarbone.

Teasing them with soft kisses down their chest, going lower.

Gently pushing them back onto the bed, lips following their descent.

Wrapping a leg around theirs, pulling them closer for an even deeper kiss.

[hedgiwithapen]

Leverage: the trampoline job

(Sometimes the titles of these jobs is literal, and sometimes it’s a metaphor… this is the latter. AU of the Big Bang Job!) “There’s just one problem,” Moreau said, the tip of his polished shoe pressed against Hardison’s chair. “I don’t believe you.”

He kicked, sending the chair backwards into the pool with a splash. Eliot kept his face blank, a grift to make even Sophie proud.

“Eliot, you really think I’m that stupid? That I didn’t look for you after you ran?” Moreau chided. “In Serbia two years ago, at that orphanage…Moscow last fall. So I may not know exactly the game you’re playing, but I know you’re no middleman.”

Eliot’s throat tightened. This was why he’d brought Hardison, not Sophie. His plans burned, one after another till he got to L. 

“That’s Alec Hardison,” he said. “And if you’ve ever believed anything I’ve told you, believe that you want him alive.”

He jumped into the water, hoping the intrigue would be enough to stay Chapman’s trigger finger and still expecting a bullet in his back. 

Hardison was sputtering when he got him above water, choking on the chlorine. Eliot dragged him to the side of the pool, using the ladder for leverage to boost Hardison and the chair both out before clambering up himself, keeping in front of his friend. 

"I'm listening," Moreau said. "walk me through why, exactly, I shouldn't let my man here kill you both."

"Eliot," Hardison warned.  Eliot ignored him.

"If you know what I've been up to, you know who he is." He kept his voice even. An act, but one he'd perfected. 

"A hacker," Moreau dismissed. "But one you'd die for."

"Not just a hacker," Eliot said, ignoring the back half of the statement and hating how easily Moreau read it. "The best."

He could feel Hardison behind him, pride and confusion at war. He pressed on. 

"Vector's out, and he was never much of a player. Keller's gone.  They can't hide your money, can't move it either. Hardison can move it like a kid moves checkers on a board. Not a chance anyone catches on, if he's working for you.  You won't have to pay out in bribes, either.  You want him."

"And He came here looking for a job?" Moreau asked. "I find that hard to believe, too."

"He'll do it." Eliot said. The bitter sharpness in his voice isn't all for show. "He's a geek. Half of what he cares about is proving he can do it. The other half is staying alive. He's not stupid. He knows what you can do."

"Yeah, I'm learning all kinds of new things today, traitor," Hardison spit. 

Eliot took the barb like the blow it was.

"Well. Color me intrigued, then." Moreau's smile curdled Eliot's blood, but there wasn't anything for it.  This was why he brought Hardison.

There was always a chance things broke down, and Hardison was the one he could keep alive. Chapman grabbed the back of the chair, dragging it and Hardison through the door the models went through. “Let’s chat logistics,” Moreau said. Eliot eased his heart rate, trying not to picture the look on Hardison’s face. Fury and… god. Heartbreak. There wasn’t another word for it. “Let’s,” he agreed, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say, and not poison in his mouth. 

The team always recovered, bounced back, like Parker on a trampoline. They figured out a new plan, a new trick, something last-ditch and crazy. They'll manage it. Hardison's the one they can get back. 

[lucky-clover-gazette]

(for the request thing) sometimes i wonder how Volo would feel/react if someone (like arceus’s chosen 👀) took a blow for him from a wild Pokemon or another person. From his perspective, Volo doesn’t have anyone in Hisui that cares about his wellbeing, and the game alludes to him having a troubled and lonely past, and with him having planned on erasing all life in Hisui in pursuit of his desires, would he feel guilt if someone showed him a level of care that would make them sacrifice their safety for his, when he was ready to potentially sacrifice them for his own sake when it came to Arceus?

(also wanna say ive loved your fics on Ao3, so talented <3)

(also on ao3)

You really prefer not to die in front of other people.

The edges of your vision darken as you shove Volo aside, taking the full force of the Alpha Vespiqueen’s attack. You manage the subdue your attacker with a well-aimed sticky glob and ultra ball, but not before suffering an undoubtedly fatal blow.

The consummate merchant comes to you at once, leaning over your fallen body with an oddly indecipherable expression. Usually Volo is abundantly obvious with his feelings, whether he’s passionately rambling about ruins or earnestly praising your efforts as the hero of Hisui. But the man you see now, as your vision begins to blur, simply stares.

“Caught it,” you brag.

His grey eyes widen slightly. You haven’t shared this with him, but you’ve always found them rather beautiful.

“You shouldn’t have…”

“Saved you?” you ask with a dry chuckle. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”

Volo furrows his brow. Reaches out to touch you, then pulls his hand back.

“I sincerely apologize,” he tells you, bowing his head. “If you are to perish in these circumstances, you deserve to know—”

You die and can’t hear the rest.

And then you open your eyes.

You stand on your feet now, in the last place you felt safe before the Pokémon’s attack. Volo still kneels in the distance, seemingly unaware that your body has been replaced by a fallen satchel containing your entire supply of ultraballs, a fire stone, and exactly four medicinal leeks.

You frown. This is going to be awkward.

“Hey, buddy,” you say, coming up carefully behind him. Volo’s back goes rigid at the sound of your voice, his head turning around at once.

“You—you!!”

You rub the back of your neck, sheepish. “Surprise?”

“You died!” Volo exclaims with an accusatory finger-point. “I just saw—” His head swivels to the satchel on the ground, then he turns back to you. “How?”

You sigh and sit down beside him. “Chosen One perk. I die, Arceus says my work isn’t finished yet, I get another shot. It happened for the first time when I fought Lord Kleavor. I had no idea what I was doing, and it took like a dozen tries before I got good.”

Volo looks horrified. “You’ve died a dozen times?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why—”

“My death count’s definitely in the triple digits now. Lord Arcanine was ten times worse than Kleavor, because of all the fire and bullshit arena. At least Lady Liligant was a total pushover.”

“Did it not hurt?” demands Volo, his face growing noticeably pale.

“Oh, it totally hurt,” you admit. “But somebody’s got to deal with it, and I’m the only one around here who’s been made invulnerable by God.”

Volo looks as if he’s been slapped. You suppose that’s fair, considering the shock of witnessing your death and resurrection. But to you, this really is just another Tuesday.

“I know it’s disturbing,” you sigh, putting a hand on his shoulder. His muscles are tense. “That’s why I try my best to make sure people aren’t around to see it. Just easier that way, you know?”

Volo wears another unreadable expression.

“Sucks to lose a satchel, though,” you say, lightly. “Thanks for keeping an eye on it. Without witnesses, I usually lose some of my stuff. Never the plates, though, don’t worry.”

He still looks lost in his thoughts, which is no good. You don’t know how to explain that this happens all the time, for much less important reasons than protecting your favorite person on Hisui. The pain is a small price to pay for his safety, and you’d readily pay it again.

“I thought you died,” Volo eventually says. “Saving my life.”

You elbow him playfully. “I guess Arceus is looking out for you too.”

His expression darkens. “No.”

“No?”

He looks you dead in the eyes, with a different sort of intensity than you’ve come to expect from the eccentric wanderer. “Under an unjust god, endless life is endless pain. Do you truly wish that for yourself? For the world?”

Distantly, you wonder what exactly Volo had thought you deserved to know before your presumed demise. You have a feeling he’s not going to tell you now.

You offer him a hand. “Well, unless you’ve got a better god laying around somewhere, I think we’re stuck with what we’ve got.” And I like what I’ve got, you absolutely do not tell the merchant. I like that I’m here with you.

Volo still seems distracted, but he takes your hand anyway. “Right,” he mutters, and then smiles. “We live to fight another day.”

You rub your thumb against the side of his hand. “And maybe someday, we won’t have to fight. We’ll have everything we need.”

You can picture it, with him. You wonder, maybe foolishly, if he might feel the same way.

Supporting you is actually an investment in my own fortunes, Volo had told you once.

You would protect him regardless of your personal relationship, of course. Just as you protect the rest of this world. You want things to be better, for everyone, and intend to use your god-given powers to ensure that your dream becomes reality.

Volo nods, his sharp gaze fixed on your joined hands. A chill runs down your spine as he squeezes.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Someday.”

You smile softly.

“I think I can live with that.”

[burning-academia-if]

hello if you’re still taking prompts could u by chance do tears + ??? :p

??? + Tears!

‘What happened?’ Their voice presses into your head, already aching from an incoming headache brought on from your tears. You weren’t sure how to answer them, when there were so many ways you could. Home, school, death, them.

            Your words are acid, “I thought I told you to stay out of my head.”

            Even with the flood of their feelings, seeping out like blood from a wound, you try to shut them out. You never wanted this, and you had yet to think of a situation worse than one where you were tied to a formless thing who felt and saw everything you could.

            You’re so tired. The tears burn in your eyes again and you burrow tighter into yourself, “Just leave me alone. I’m so tired.”

            They don’t, but they don’t speak again either. They settle, and you feel the pinpricks in your fingers. You loosen your grip, the pull of your nails away from skin a peel of pain. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been holding yourself. Little crescents line up your arms. The pinpricks stop. They settle again.

            The tears keep leaking out, and with how long you’ve cried you wonder if it’s possible to go on forever. Maybe the body won’t run out of tears, and you’ll be stuck in this state until the end of time. If only you could burn this version of yourself and start again. In a different body, in a different home, you’d be better. You wouldn’t waste a second chance you would never get.

            The Voice presses into you again. You look up involuntarily and scowl as you find yourself looking towards the half-finished water bottle on the bedside desk, “I’m not a child you need to take care of.”

            ‘It’ll help the headache.’ Their voice is soft, withdrawn. ‘Take care of yourself. I’ll leave, then.’

            You grit your teeth and turn away. You won’t listen to anything they tell you to do. It’s not fair, that of all the people in your life (of the reminder there are so painfully few people in your life), the one who cares the most is the one you’re cursed with. They only care because they need a vessel. They only care so they can use you. It isn’t really them taking care of you as a person, it’s them taking care of you like a puppet.

            You hate this. Going around in circles, thinking the same thing over and over again.

            ‘Please, little moon.’ You wince at the nickname, the endearment. It comes with more emotions, each one going against the stubborn beliefs you’ve held on to. That their care for you is real. It eats away at your resistance. This time, when they pull you towards the water, you don’t fight. You down it all in a second, and when you do it hits that you’re hungry and gross and need a shower and a meal.

            What are you even doing?

            “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

            ‘I know.’

            “I can’t even take care of myself.”

            ‘I know.’

            “I hate that the only one who ever helps me is you.”

            ‘…I know.’

            They accept everything, and you stubbornly wipe away the tears instead of having a full breakdown. You get up for food, they stay with you. Although you don’t talk to them, you don’t bother to chase them away. You’re so tired, and warmth is warmth even if it’s as artificial as a lighter.

[j-esbian]

i lost the post but i saw someone talking about how some of y’all act like being weird is a choice and like. YEAHHHHHHH.

that’s fine, it might be for you. but i just live like this and don’t know any other way. like yeah i’ve worked customer service, i can do innocuous small talk, but anything beyond that, i don’t understand what i’m missing. and it’s frustrating to see the tonal disconnect especially from people who are like “uwu embrace weirdness!!” where they’re like. dressing quirky and talking about bugs and listening to obscure music and eschewing small talk to ask Deep Questions on the first date and unlearning their tendency to not infodump. and generally have an idea of what Weirdness is supposed to look like. idk man some of us wake up and get out of bed and can’t figure out why the rest of their coworkers chitchat with each other but when they join the conversation it dies.

weirdness is value neutral. let’s stop trying to turn it into a badge because quite frankly, it’s not a choice for everyone. it’s fucking exhausting to never be on the same wavelength as other people and they’re going to react the way they do and label you the way they will without any conscious actions on your end. it’s difficult to talk about this without feeling like you’ll be dismissed as immature, a teenager whining “no one understands me” but the thing is. sometimes you don’t grow out of feeling alone and different, and there’s no good way to talk about it without feeling like people will think you’re just fishing for pity.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

one of the worst feelings ever is wanting to write but your hands hurt too much or the words just don’t want to work so you just sit there staring at a half finished doc with tears in your eyes bc you want to write and you need to write but everything is telling you that you can’t

[rosicheeks]

To anyone who messages me - I’m sorry. Im sorry I suck at replying 99% of the time. I’m sorry I don’t have the mental capacity to hold a conversation. I’m sorry if you see me active on here reblogging and answering asks but I still haven’t replied to your message. I’m sorry I want to talk to you but I get overwhelmed by the smallest things.

I really really really hope you never think I’m purposely ignoring you or trying to hurt you in any way. I hope you can understand that I’m truly trying my best.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[starlooove]

And I’m standing ten toes down behind Eloise