#I think I’m overtired actually

[thymeofarrival]

I need to Do Things more often, I miss having things like callouses and muscle soreness

[joelmillers-whore]

I'll Be Here In The Morning

summary: after a heated argument, you try to go to sleep alone, but joel knows you can’t and he doesn’t like not sleeping next to you. he comes back and the next thing you know, the two of you can’t keep your hands off of each other.

Recommended Song(s): Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood

Word Count: 4.2K

Series or One-Shot

Warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, joel x female!reader, no mention of Y/N, no outbreak, slight relationship insecurity, they have a fight but it’s not shown, SMUT, joel calling reader darlin’ because why not, joel reassuring them and being sweet, also age gap i guess, canon divergent, praise kink, unsafe sex (don't be like joel, use a condom)

A/N: hey ya’ll! this is my first TLOU fic and i am so excited to post it here (also my first time posting on here). i am an AO3 user through and through but i thought it was time to broaden my horizon so to speak. i was so overwhelmed with how many of you wanted to see this type of fic, so please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think or request anything you want to see. i’ll try to get to it/ i’m trying to be more active. i’m not sure if my asks are open so let me know if that works lol. anyway, i hope ya’ll enjoy this!!

Slamming the bedroom door behind you, you crossed your arms over your chest. You were angry, furious even, mostly with yourself but also with your boyfriend. Anger was coursing through your veins, pumping white-hot rage through them that made your chest constrict when you thought back to the petty fight you’d had with Joel not ten minutes ago.

It was mindless, stupid bullshit but you’d gotten angry over it anyway. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure just how it started, but you did know that you had been a simmering pot, ready and waiting to explode. So you had needed to get out of there, away from him. You didn’t fight with Joel often, even though your clashing personalities would beg to differ. When you did get angry though, there was no holding either of you back. 

You and Joel each had your own way of dealing with anger and most times, you chose to walk away, not wanting to accidentally say the wrong thing or to say something hurtful that you didn’t mean in the heat of the moment. So, here you were. In the bedroom. Fighting back against your racing heart and rising body temperature.

You had come back home after a long day on your feet and something mundane had set you off, and Joel just happened to be in the line of fire. Before long, you and Joel had gotten into it and not in the fun and sexy way you found yourself always wanting from him, regardless of what kind of mood you were in. 

You thought back to the argument and how dark and endless Joel’s eyes had looked, how they seared into you when you were fighting, keeping you locked in and firmly in place. A shiver ran up the length of your spine as you imagined how he had crossed his arms, clearly in frustration, but how even when you were angry, you hadn’t been able to look away from his broad chest or how the material of his shirt had been pulled so tautly over his bulging muscles, making you bite your lip.

That annoying little flutter in the pit of your stomach made you groan in exasperation because even when you were upset with him, you couldn’t deny the sexual chemistry you and Joel had. 

You shook your head, trying to shake yourself from your lust-induced daydream. You were overtired from work and clearly still reeling from an argument that you hadn’t been expecting to come home to. You glanced over at the clock; it was later than you had realized it was. How long had you and Joel been fighting for?

The all too familiar feeling of regret settled into your bones. You hated fighting with Joel, with the one person you considered to be more of a family to you than your actual family. But what was done was done and there was no going back now. 

Neither one of you held onto anger for long, both of you deciding a long time ago that if either one of you were still angry in the morning over what had transpired the night before, you would agree to sit down and hash it out. That rule had probably saved your relationship more than once, and anger between the two of you never lasted for more than two days at most.

Rolling back your shoulders, you held firm to the idea that holding onto what you had said and dwelling on it wouldn’t help you now, so you thought about something else instead. You thought about how your muscles ached and how a migraine was slowly forming. The only cure that could help you now was sleep. 

You knew that come the morning you and Joel would be back to bickering lovingly with each other and laughing over breakfast, just like how it always turned out. He was bound to forgive you, you hoped. But what if this fight was the one that tipped him over the edge? What if when he left, he wouldn’t come back?

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach like a thousand-pound boulder. You bit back the sting of tears and honed your hearing, listening for anything in the darkness that enveloped you. Disappointment manifested quickly when you heard nothing, except for your harsh breathing. Fuck.

You had fucked up royally, laying into him like that. And he wasn’t even there so you could fix it, there was really nothing you could do at the moment. You debated for a minute about calling him but you decided against it. He needed time to cool off— you both did. And you wanted to give him that time. 

With a heavy heart, you started getting ready for bed. Maybe if you went through the motions, pretended like everything was fine, and sped through the night, Joel would be there when you woke up, smirking like you were his whole world again. So you rid yourself of your clothes and changed into something more comfortable; one of Joel’s shirts that went down to your knees and some sleep shorts. You lifted the hem of the shirt to your nose and inhaled, getting lost in the scent of him that still lingered.

It was warm and clean with a faint hint of coffee. It was Joel to the core and you rubbed your thighs together when you thought about how that scent crowded you when you and him made love, or when you had first started seeing each other, you had stayed up during a rain storm and just talked for the whole night, staying awake on black coffee and powdered donuts. 

Mindlessly, you climbed into bed and settled in, trying to fall asleep despite the gnawing feeling in your gut. You sighed heavily, flipping over the pillow and then fluffing it, repeating the motions until you made your head spin. You never could sleep alone. Even before you had met Joel, you hated it. And right now, you hated it even more, especially when you reached over to his side, feeling for him.

But there was nothing there except the coldness of the sheets. You grew annoyed at yourself for how needy you felt without him snuggling next to you, his body heat warming you up better than any blanket could. You wanted Joel here, not anywhere else. And he knew it, which was why he almost never left you to sleep alone if he could avoid it. Almost never. Until now. 

You closed your eyes and tried to count sheep, thinking that it could help. You tried not to concentrate on how alone you felt or how you missed him so much it hurt. Counting sheep must have helped because before you knew it, you found yourself in a dreamless sleep, tossing and turning for the majority of the night. Your ears pricked up when you heard a noise, thinking you heard the bedroom door open. You stiffened, attempting to remain calm and closing your eyes tighter.

Whoever it was moved around in the dark, their shadow fidgeting with the dresser before they climbed into bed next to you. They nudged themselves closer to you and relief washed over you when you recognized their scent. It was Joel. He came back. Just like he always did. 

He shuffled his body closer to you, his solid front melding to your back, as his face snuggled into the crook of your shoulder, just how you liked it. It confirmed that he was there and he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. 

“You still mad?”, Joel mumbled, his Southern drawl coming out gruffer as he tried to keep his voice low. He nuzzled your shoulder deeper, planting a soft kiss there. 

You shook your head, as best as you could in the position you were in. You were well past the anger stage. And right now, you just wanted him beside you, with you. Right here. You felt Joel’s growing hardness rest against your back and a dull throbbing started in your cunt, making you squirm. 

“I thought you weren’t coming back”, you croaked, the shroud of darkness acting as a shield against how scared you were at the thought of Joel not coming back at all. 

Joel held you tighter, his arms flexing as he wrapped them around you in the same way you were used to. His gesture of keeping you close was more of a comfort to you than any of his words could. You craned your neck slightly, trying to make out the expression that was on Joel’s face, but it was hard.

The bedroom was mostly dark except for a tiny sliver of moonlight that shined through the window, and even then, it was tough. You could make out the tiniest of details in the low light; like the imperceptible way that his eyebrows creased when he was focused on you, or how you could tell that he was still smiling because of the way his eyes crinkled, despite being unsure of your mood. God, you loved this man. 

Joel was there for you and you let out a tentative and shaky breath, grateful that he came back to you. You let any remaining tension drain from your body, and shifted your hips, which earned you a sharp groan from Joel, his hand flying to hold your hips in place. 

“I’ll always come back to you, darlin’”, his voice was gruff and came out strained. His hot breath fanned over your ear, “Always”. 

“Promise?”, you asked, grinding back into him again. It was the last confirmation you needed and then you would drop it, let the argument fade away. 

You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice, “Promise”. 

The tightness that had been sitting on your chest was no more and you were feeling bold, and a little more than turned on. The idea that Joel would always come back to you made you wet, and you rubbed your thighs together, trying to alleviate some of the pressure you felt between your legs.

As if sensing your arousal, Joel’s hand wrapped around your middle, pulling your ass flush with his erection, his hand splayed across your clothed stomach, holding you to him. 

You felt his short stubble run along the side of your neck, and your jaw, the abrasive sensation making your pussy flutter with the idea of that stubble rubbing against you harshly, until you were swollen and red down there. 

“Baby...”, Joel protested weakly, his half-hearted attempt at drawing out the tension between you two. But there was tension and it was a string that was being pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment. 

You grabbed Joel’s hand that was on your stomach, guiding it lower and lower until you stopped at the waistband of your sleep shorts, your chest on fire from your choppy breathing. 

“Please, Joel”, you whined, grinding your ass back into him and moving your hips in slow circles, spurring him on. “I want you to make me feel so good like you always do”. 

You were back to guiding Joel’s hand past the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear where he could feel how wet you were for him. He groaned, the vibrations from it making your skin tingle. An almost non-existent fuck was whispered as Joel’s hand found your soaking cunt, his deft fingers sliding through your folds.

When you removed your hand from his, letting him take charge, he hesitated. But when his thumb found your clit and you moaned, throwing your head back, he continued, not stopping for even a second. 

“This good?”, he asked, as he teased your hole with his thick digit, pulsing the finger in and out, just enough to taunt you with pleasure and then rip it away when it felt too good. It was frustrating but you figured you somewhat deserved it for the fight from earlier. 

You hummed, “Mo-more”, and you bucked into his hand, gyrating against it as you searched for more friction. 

Joel sucked the pulse on your neck hard and you groaned, your head rolling to the side in pure ecstasy as he licked the spot when he pulled away. Fulfilling your command, he continued to work you over, work you to the edge. Your moans mixed with the sound of his finger, which soon became two fingers, pumping into you, a squelching emanating from you with every pump.

He was stretching you out, trying to prep you for his cock. Even this far into the relationship you needed some prep, he was that big. But you wouldn’t want it any other way. You loved his size and his girth and how deep he could go. 

“Can you come for me, darlin’?”, Joel asked, as a groan slipped past his lips. 

You flinched when his fingers curled, bringing you back to the moment as a tingle started low in your belly, the pressure building and building until it was too much, it was all too much. 

“Fuck—”, you cried, cutting yourself off as your orgasm slammed into you, making you see stars. It was searing and hot and violent. 

Your hips stuttered as they rocked into Joel’s hand, finding comfort in the fact that he was still lazily pumping into you, helping you ride out the aftershock. 

“That’s my good girl”, he praised, thumb whispering over your swollen clit. You whined from the added pressure, feeling another orgasm start to build. 

You had just cum and yet Joel was ready and willing to give you another one. Even when his engorged cock was nestled into your back, twitching with the need for his own release. He wanted— no, needed to give you your pleasure before he could seek out his own. Joel teased your clit again, pinching it as you yelped.

He removed his hand from your underwear and brought it to his mouth. You still weren’t facing him but you could hear the obscene sounds coming from him as he licked and sucked his fingers clean of your juices, not letting a drop go to waste. Fuck, you were so turned on already it was positively insane. 

Joel gripped your waist and turned your body toward him, positioning himself so that he was slotted in between your legs, his upper body resting on his forearms, so as to not crush you with his body weight. Both of your chests were heaving at this point as another shot of excitement and arousal shot through you.

You brought a hand to Joel’s cheek, thumbing over his scruff and savouring this tender moment between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry”, you said, swallowing your nerves. 

In the softness of the moonlight, Joel’s eyes glimmered when they looked down at you. It wasn’t quite lust or amusement in them, but something else, something closer to love and adoration.

He dipped his head down and kissed you. It was tempered and subdued but sweet as he licked your bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth. You granted it to him, letting him explore your mouth like it was the first time. A swallowed-up moan left you and Joel pulled back. 

“Me too”. 

It was simple and yet he meant it with his whole heart, you were certain of that. Picking up where you left off, Joel palmed your breast through your— his shirt, making you tremble beneath him. He pinched your nipple and it made you arch your back off the bed, both to escape and chase that feeling. 

“Let’s get this shirt off, hmm?”, Joel mused, playing with the hem of it. You nodded and lifted your upper body off of the bed as he helped you out of it, tossing it somewhere behind him. 

“Your turn”, you said, almost breathlessly, and Joel obliged. He sat up on his knees and stripped himself of his own shirt. 

You couldn’t help but pause and appreciate him and his physique. He wasn’t insanely built like an athlete or someone who stuck to a strict diet all so that they could get a six-pack. Joel’s body was sculpted from years of manual labour and although some might not be turned on by a broad chest and a toned stomach, you certainly were, and you were enamoured by it.

Your hand seemed to have had a mind of its own because you were raking your fingernails along his chest and stomach, drawing a line all the way down to his waistband. You watched as his muscles tensed from your touch, his eyes snapping shut like he had to concentrate on restraining himself.

Your hand remained on his waistband, your index finger playing with the dark line of hair that led all the way past the pants and to the straining member, you knew awaited you. 

“If you don’t quit staring at me like that, darlin’, this might be over before either of us want it to be”, he drawled, quiet and low. 

Your eyes snapped to his, which were dark and endless pools filled with lust. He looked like he was ready to devour you and your thoughts came to life when he gripped your thighs forcefully and spread them apart, making quick work of peeling you out of your shorts and drenched panties. 

Joel groaned above you, “Such a pretty pussy, and ‘s all for me, ain’t she?”. He bit the tender flesh of your inner thigh, making you jump. But you didn’t go very far, his grip on the back of your thighs holding you close to him and keeping you in place. 

You wiggled your hips, trying to get him to hurry up, “All for you”, you whine. 

Joel chuckled, but didn’t tease you for much longer, answering your silent prayer as he dove into your cunt, lapping and sucking like he was a man starved. You writhed beneath him as he continued, not letting up as he brought you to the edge of another orgasm. 

“How you feelin’, baby?”, Joel asked, as he came up for air. You nodded fervently, feeling like you could die if he didn’t continue what he was doing. 

He chuckled as he went back in, the vibrations making your head swirl and your toes curl at the sensation of his tongue fucking into you. You were so close it hurt and Joel could tell.

He shushed you before bringing his thumb to your clit and massaging it in tandem with his tongue, making you mewl and bury your hands in his short hair, pulling at his scalp as you begin to grind yourself on his face, practically riding him as you chase your high. 

“I’m gonna—”, and you do. 

You cum hard and quick, this orgasm ripping into you like a hurricane. The blinding wave of pleasure had all of your inhibitions clouded, as a light buzz started coasting through your body, leaving you sated. Your mouth is agape, a mix of a whimper and a shrill moan escaping you. 

You felt as though you had just run a marathon, your body was on fire and yet there was a calm as you came down. You revelled in the aftermath of your orgasm, feeling drunk off of it. There was a slick layer of sweat that coated your whole body, but you didn’t seem to care. Your mind was quiet as you listened to your breathing, your heart hammering below the surface.

Running a hand through your hair, you felt the mattress dip when Joel shifted his body weight, his beard glistening with your slick. You reach down and grab his face with both hands, bringing him to your lips. You groan when you taste yourself on him, the tang fueling your growing desire to be filled deep with him. 

Joel murmured something against your lips but you couldn’t hear, your heart beating too loudly. “What?”, you asked. 

“I need to be inside of you”, he whispers again, and you moan as he ruts into your bare core. 

“Then do it”, you said, looking at him through hooded eyes. 

Joel bit his lip, shaking his head as he stripped out of his jeans and then his boxers. His dick was thick and angry, the tip a bright red as it leaked pre-cum. You followed a drop with your eyes as it trailed down the shaft and you licked your lips at the sight. 

Joel chuckled, the noise shooting straight to your needy core. You sat up slightly, reaching out for his cock but he stopped you, “Not tonight, sweet thing”, he stated, “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last if you start suckin’ me off”. 

You keened at his words, desperate for some sort of relief. You snaked your hand from the pillow all the way down your chest, rubbing your nipple as you moaned, Joel’s eyes never leaving you. His eyes on you felt right, like you were putting on a show just for him, and in a way, you were. He watched your hand slide lower down your stomach and finally disappear between your legs. 

“Goddammit”, Joel hissed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, “What’d I just say?”. 

He ripped your hand away from your aching cunt, pining it above your head as punishment. You let out a choked sob, “Please...”. 

Joel’s cock twitched against his stomach at your plea, and he released you. He gripped his length and tugged harshly, letting beads of pre-cum dribble all over his hand.

You watched him throw his head back as he panted above you, finding a rhythm. As you opened your mouth to whine and tell him that you needed him, he grabbed the back of your legs and folded you in half, thrusting his hard cock into your pussy. 

The force of him slamming his cock inside of you without much warning was enough to make you cry out. You couldn’t focus on much more than the pleasure that he could provide. It was as if you could never be fully satisfied, not when it came to Joel. You would always want him as desperately as he wanted you, each and every time. His hips snapped into yours, almost to the point of pain as he set a demanding pace, burying himself deeper and deeper into you. 

“So”. He grunted with a thrust. “Fucking”. Another snap of his hips. “Needy”. Thrust. 

Joel was never one to deny you, and you knew that. You might have been needy but he was willing to give you whatever you needed. And most times, all you needed was him. Him and that fucking delicious cock. So, he made sure he delivered you another orgasm. You chased your release, the desire striking you like a bolt of lightning— fast, powerful, and all-consuming.

It started in your toes and rushed in. Joel’s thick cock pumped in and out of you hungrily. He was both providing you with another orgasm and trying to find his own release. Each thrust was more punishing than the last, each angle hitting the right spot, and guiding you both to your release. 

“That’s it, baby”, he groaned, manhandling you until you were basically straddling him, his hands on your back, holding you steady.

“Can you gimme another one?”, Joel purred into your ear as he fucked up into you, his hips losing their rhythm and you knew he was close. 

“I’ll try”, you said, snaking a hand in between your bodies, and rubbing your cunt in time with each pound of his hips. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so good”. 

He barely finished his sentence before you were shaking in his arms, finding your orgasm from his praise. 

Drunk on only two orgasms, you didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, too sensitive and too sated at the same time, “Mmm, love when you make me come”. 

Joel laughed with adoration as he continued fucking you, chasing his own release. “And I love makin’ you come, darlin’”. 

You felt your walls clamp around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. With a final few pumps, he groaned, letting his head fall against your shoulder. Joel tensed slightly and his body shook as he deposited ropes of cum deep into you.

Your head lolled to the side, feeling his body grow slack against yours. His was flush against you, trying to control his breathing as you did the same, your arms wrapped around him as you stroked his back. 

A long moment of comfortable silence passed before he lifted his head up, scanning your face. You smiled tiredly at him as he kissed you, letting the bliss wash over you both.

Joel kissed your forehead and slipped out of you. You in turn whined at the loss of being full of him. Your limbs were heavy as you melted into the mattress, feeling Joel collapse next to you. His arm drifted around your waist, pulling you into his side. 

He kissed your temple affectionately, “‘m sorry about our fight”. 

You nodded, snuggling closer to him. “I know”, you bit your lip, contemplating your next words, “I just worry that one day we’ll really get into it and you’ll never come back”. 

Joel stiffened for a moment, before he turned to you, whispering into your hair, “You don’t need to worry ‘bout that ever, darlin’. Because I’ll always be here in the morning”. 

[ageofstarkey]

untitled snippet: band!marauders x new-to-the-band!reader

summary: You're James Potter's little sister and he asks you to join his band. Remus Lupin, the Marauders’ moody bassist, makes you regret agreeing.

content: bassist remus x singer/guitarist reader, potter!reader, "enemies" to lovers, mature content (alcohol, tobacco, and drug use, swearing, etc…)

note: hi so i've never posted any of my writing on here, but i recently started fleshing out this marauders band au in my free time, so i wanted to post a snippet to see if anyone like...actually would be interested in reading it if i were to write a Proper Fic™️

wc: 0.8k ish

✩✩✩✩✩

On one particularly late night, after a particularly infuriating comment from Remus, you snap. You stand up before he’s even finished speaking, letting your banged up acoustic clatter unceremoniously to the floor. Truth be told – you hardly even processed what he said, so irritated by the goddamn way he said it.

“Y’know what?” You’re overtired and practically seething, a half-smoked cigarette trembling between your fingers. “I’m fucking done. With all of this.” You toss your cigarette into the over-stuffed ashtray on the table, paying no mind to the way it bounces and falls, still smouldering, to the wooden surface below. “And honestly? It’s a real goddamn shame because I think you guys have something special. And I think we’d be really damn good together if he -” You jab a shaking finger towards Remus, who looked rather unmoved. “- wasn’t so fucking self-absorbed.”

James tries to defuse the situation, but you’re storming out of the room before he can finish a sentence, intently ignoring him on your way to the front door. You slam it harder than you mean to, shakily inhaling as you step into the chilly midnight air. With a trembling hand, you reach for the cigarettes in your pocket, sliding one hastily from the box. You feel the familiar sting of tears in your eyes, silently berating yourself for being so sensitive as they roll down your reddened cheeks.

Minutes have passed, and you’re halfway through your second fag when you hear the familiar creak of the front door opening behind you. With a soft sniff, you wipe hastily at the lingering tears on your cheeks. You look quickly over your shoulder, hoping for James and sighing quietly when you see Remus standing just beyond the doorframe. His hands are tucked coolly into the pockets of his jeans, and he stares at you unflinchingly.

You turn back around, taking a long drag from your cigarette before stubbing it out on the damp concrete. “If you’ve come out here to offer your two cents on my lyrics, I’m really not interested.” Your voice is clipped and steady when you speak, despite how badly you want to scream and shout in his stupid arrogant face.

His converse scuff lazily against the ground as he takes a few careful steps towards you. Your eyes remain intently trained on your boots, back firmly facing Remus and the house. “I didn’t come out here to talk about your songs, Y/N.” His voice is soft and your heart pangs strangely in your chest. You don’t say a word. He takes two more steps. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to apologize?”

You scuff the toe of your boot against the ground with a scoff. “Not really.”

“I didn’t think so.” Remus laughs softly, and you swear you can hear the smirk on his face. It’s infuriating how amusing he seems to find the whole situation. He takes another step, and suddenly you can feel his tall figure looming behind you. You want to turn around – you want to say something, but you can’t bring yourself to move a muscle. “Whether you believe me or not, I am sorry. I’ve been a proper arse and…” He trails off, evidently searching for his next words. Your heart thumps anxiously in the silence. “You haven’t done anything to deserve it. So I’m sorry.”

His words are followed by a long stretch of silence where neither of you speak. You open your mouth once, twice, trying to offer a response, but you come up short both times. Remus eventually speaks, his shoes scuffing against the damp ground as he takes a step back. “I’m not trying to change your mind or anything, but for what it’s worth, I think we’d be really damn good together too.” His voice is low, steady, and effortlessly confident. Without another word, he leaves, and you don’t dare breathe until you hear the front door shut behind him.

When you finally find the strength to stand, you walk home with your thoughts racing a million miles a second. Needless to say – you’re back at the Marauders house the very next morning. James – who’d been calling you all night, smiles with wide eyes when you walk into the living room behind Sirius. His shoulders drop in relief, and you almost feel guilty for intently ignoring each and every one of his calls.

Remus, in a surprising turn of events, is the first to speak. He’s sprawled lazily on the couch, a ring clad hand resting on his upper thigh. There’s a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and he wears a knowing smirk that makes you want to cuss him out. “Not giving up on us yet, hm?”

His stare doesn’t falter when your eyes find his, and you hate how quickly you look away with warm pink cheeks. “Don’t make me regret it, Lupin.”

[renecdote]

For the character and word, Maddie & ocean?

buckley siblings feelings for all your buckley sibling feelings needs 🥰

[Read on AO3]

The night Buck comes home from the hospital, Maddie watches a documentary about the ocean. A couch has been ordered, but it won’t arrive until Wednesday, so she’s sitting up on the other side of her brother’s bed, absently playing with his hair while a beluga whale dives deep in the cold Arctic Ocean.

“I didn’t know they were such social animals,” she says, more caught by the documentary than she thought she would be when she sat down on top of the covers with her phone and a cup of tea. 

Buck’s eyes are closed, curled on his side with his head not quite touching her hip, but he’s too still to be sleeping. Close to it though, maybe, because his reply is little more than a mumble when it comes. 

“Guess the ocean gets lonely.”

Maddie doesn’t shiver, but the feeling sits beneath her skin, more sensation than cold, and she reaches for her tea to ward it away. She wonders, sometimes, if Buck ever would have forgiven her if she hadn’t fought her way back out of the ocean that day. If he ever would have forgiven the ocean. She thought for a long time that the tsunami had already broken that bond between her brother and the water he loved so much, a heartbreak more swift and cutting than Abby ever was, but Buck has always been braver than she gave him credit for. Braver than she thinks he should be, some days.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, fingers still moving through his hair. He hasn’t complained, but by the time she managed to convince their parents to go back to her house for the night, he’d been squinting in a way that meant headache. Probably a whole body kind of ache as well. 

“‘M okay,” Buck answers, but he sounds too tired for it to be convincing. “You didn’t have to stay.”

Maddie rolls her eyes. “You just got out of the hospital, Buck, of course I’m staying.”

It’s a familiar kind of argument, more easily won this time than it has been in the past. Maddie still isn’t sure if she should be worried about that, or just happy that Buck is willing to accept her help. He hadn’t even asked any questions when he saw the overnight bag she dropped at the bottom of the stairs. Hadn’t asked when she shut the door behind their parents. Hadn’t protested, even when she looked him up and down and said, “okay, time for bed,” in the same kind of decisive tone she uses with Jee when she starts getting overtired and cranky.

In return, Maddie didn’t argue when Buck flipped through Netflix to find a documentary he was already halfway through. Not even when he rolled onto his side only a few minutes in, tired eyes sliding closed, giving up any pretence that he was actually watching it. Ever since he was a kid, he found it easier to sleep with noise. Maddie used to read to him for hours when he was young. Used to worry about him strangling himself with headphone wires when he got her hand-me-down portable CD player as a teenager. 

She still worries. Maybe more than she did when he was a kid. Less about him strangling himself in his sleep, but more about whether he’s sleeping at all. Whether he’s hurt. How he might get hurt. He’s not a kid anymore, but he’ll always be her baby brother. She doesn’t think she’d ever stop worrying about him even if she could. 

On the TV, a baby whale is calling for a mother who drifted too far away, and Maddie bites her lip, feeling teary and a little bit ridiculous for it. 

You’d tell me, right? she wants to ask. If you weren’t okay?

But she’s scared that the answer is no. She’s scared that it’s something she might not be able to fix.

So she just keeps running her fingers through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and when the baby whale has been reunited with its mother and she feels a little less like she might cry, she says, “I love you, Evan.”

There’s just enough of Buck’s face visible in the ocean-blue light from the TV to see him smile as he replies, “Love you too, Mads.”

It’s enough. For now, it has to be enough. 

The documentary slides into warmer waters, the sun bright and sparkling as a bale of turtles pulls themselves out of the ocean and onto the beach to lay their eggs. Maddie watches them carefully dig their nests and lay their eggs, then leave them there to incubate and hatch. She watches baby turtles claw their way out of the sand and down towards the water, fighting for survival from the moment they draw breath. A gull circles low, cawing, and she looks away right as it swoops, unwilling to watch as it captures its prey. 

Beside her, Buck’s breathing is slow and even, the tension in his body softened as he sinks into sleep. There’s an air mattress downstairs, tucked into a cupboard after being borrowed once and never returned, and Maddie really should have set it up earlier so she could sneak back down and into her own bed for the night as soon as Buck fell asleep. But she didn’t, and she finds herself lingering now, reaching for any excuse not to be as far away as even the bottom of the stairs. 

What if he has a nightmare? What if he has trouble breathing during the night? What if he wakes up and needs her?

(What if she wakes up and needs the reminder that he’s alive?)

In the end, she doesn’t even turn the TV off. She just stretches out on the bed, still on top of the covers, and lets the blue ocean light and her brother’s steady breathing lull her into dreamless sleep.

And when Buck does startle awake in the middle of night, woken by the conjurings of his own mind, she’s there to reach out and lay a hand on his chest, rubbing soothing circles while she murmurs, “You’re okay, it was just a dream, go back to sleep.”

He takes a troubled breath, shaky in the darkness, and when he shuffles closer, Maddie thinks it’s for her as much as for him. They haven’t done this since Buck was a kid—not when his leg was crushed, or that embolism almost killed him, or any of the dozen other too-close calls he’s had—but she pushes back the covers now, just far enough to climb under them, and she wraps her arms around her little brother.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers against his hair, hand moving on his back. “I’m here, you’re okay.”

Maddie doesn’t know if he believes her. She doesn’t know if he is okay. But she’s here, she’s got him, and that has to be enough. For now, it has to be enough. She holds him tight, holds him safe, and sooner than she thought he might, Buck drifts back into sleep. Maddie presses a kiss into his hair, and lets her own eyes fall closed, and when she sleeps, she dreams she’s a turtle, drifting through the warm ocean currents. 

[erin-bo-berin]

may I request some angst, then some smut.

It’s Steve and singlemom!reader’s first fight and she cries because Steve hurt her feelings, he feels so bad, he goes to the couch and tries to sleep in the night, but reader misses him and wants him back to bed with her. When he gets back, the makeup sex is amazing!!

-🦋

Omg I know different times calls for different measures but I can imagine that make up sex with Steve would be so gentle and loving and especially in this scenario because he’d feel so bad for making her cry 🥺 okay okay I’m on it! Thank you for requesting, 🦋 anon. Love ya! 🥰

Steve x SingleTeenMom!Reader (part of this universe, you can find the rest of the series if you’re interested in it, on my MASTERLIST)

Warning: Smut (in case it isn’t your thing)

They say the first fight between a couple is never a big deal.

Obviously, at some point two people are going to disagree on something. There might be a heated discussion, maybe shouts and screams, sometimes even words thrown at one another that aren’t meant to come out; these are the kind of words that thrive in an argument, only coming out in the heat of the moment, their only job to wound the other party.

What causes a fight can be a multitude of things. But, some of the worst fights can come from stress.

A child—especially one that’s not your significant other’s—can be stressful on any relationship. No matter how much they might possibly love them.

It wasn’t Abbie’s fault that you and Steve argued, not really, no. She obviously didn’t put the words in both of your mouths, that was on you two.

You both were overtired, Steve overworked at Family Video lately, you exhausted from a day at home with Abbie. Little snips turned into a bigger argument. In hindsight, it was a stupid argument, one that blew way out of proportion.

Steve had had a bad day, Keith being hard on him during his shift. It was the stupidest thing to fight over, forgetting milk at the grocery store when you’d went shopping earlier.

Steve had a tendency to sleep late before his shifts, shovel a bowl of cereal in his mouth and then head to work. Without milk, he wouldn’t be able to eat breakfast at home tomorrow and a few snippy comments turned into a full blown argument.

Abbie was already fast asleep in her crib, in the nursery, so your heated argument was exchanged in fierce whispers.

“I’m sorry I forgot the milk, okay? You don’t have to bite my head off!”

“Whatever, it’s fine. I’m tired, I just want to sleep,” he mumbled.

“You think you’re tired? I have been chasing an 18 month all day, trying to keep her from putting anything and everything in her mouth, running the errands—which by the way, she tries to grab anything and let it fall into the grocery cart, so I had to be hypervigilant about that—so I’m sorry if I forgot one thing. I have been a walking zombie today.”

“Jesus, you don’t have to lecture me, Y/N. She’s kept us both up lately refusing to go to sleep, you know,” he grumbled, folding his arms.

“Which is why I always tell you to go back to sleep!” you hissed.

“Well excuse me if I actually want to try and be a fucking good boyfriend! But apparently you don’t need my help.”

“You don’t have to sound like me and Abbie are a burden,” you said, sounding hurt.

“I didn’t, but you said it, not me.”

“What? You wish you’d never met us?”

When he didn’t say anything, you felt your heart crack a bit.

“I can’t deal with this right now,” you said, turning your back to him.

“Fine,” he grabbed his pillow, “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

When the bedroom door slammed behind him, you winced, waiting for the tell-tale cries of your wakened daughter. But they didn’t come.

Instead, your tears did.

You sat against the headboard, face buried in your hands as you cried.

•

You don’t sleep at all that night.

It’s amazing how cold the bed feels without Steve. All you want is for him to come back.

You decided against going to wake him to apologize, he’d just be cranky from being woken.

Not only do you feel like a zombie, you feel like a zombie that’s been zapped dry of moisture. You’d cried so hard, you can’t seem to produce any more tears.

2:00 a.m. turned to 3.

You watched the digital clock, miserably, when 3:59 a.m clicked over to 4:00 a.m.

By 5 a.m. you’d had more than enough. You’d spent all night staring at the ceiling, the wall, the empty space next to you and the clock. You were going to apologize, no matter what.

When you opened the bedroom door, Steve was there, fist raised as if getting ready to knock. He looked as bedraggled as you did.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, the same exact moment he said, “I want to apologize.”

You chuckled, the tension between you two lightening immensely.

“I wanted to apologize hours ago, I just didn’t want to wake you,” you said, sheepishly.

“I was already awake. I tossed and turned all night,” he admitted, hand running through his hair, “I’m so sorry for walking away angry, for letting you think all those bad things.”

“I’m sorry for assuming them,” you sighed, “Also I’m sorry I forgot the milk. I’ll go out and get some when the sun rises.”

“Baby, it’s okay. It’s not a big deal,” he whispered, bringing you close, “I promise.”

He kissed you and you let him, his foot pushing the door closed behind you.

“I missed you,” you admitted, feeling a bit silly even admitting it, even if it was the truth, “The bed’s not the same without you.”

He laid you back on the bed when you’d both reached it.

“Well, I’m an idiot for leaving you alone like that. For making you cry.”

His face was as soft and tender as his touch, his thumb brushing softly over your brow bone, down the bridge of your nose and finally, brushing over your lips.

“You and Abbie have never been a burden, I hope you know that.”

“I do,” you nodded solemnly, “And I always need your help.”

“I know,” he smiled.

Your kissing resumed, clothes shed until you were both bare, Steve nestled deep in you.

It was sweet, gentle and amazing. He murmured his apologies to you as he moved against your body, telling you that you were perfect. You told him how much you loved him and he reciprocated, quiet moans in your ear.

If you knew you’d get make up sex this tender, yet this amazing, you might’ve fought with him long ago. Your hands clawed at his back, legs wrapped around him as you pushed him deeper, chasing the high that was building.

His hips staggered just the slightest the action sending you careening, your moans muffled into his neck as you came, the pleasant feeling warming your body from inside out. His groans matched your own as he finished in you with a muttered curse.

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, then the tip of your nose then your mouth.

“I love you, too,” you whispered against his lips.

It was only after 5:30 when he untangled from you, moving the covers over you.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll take care of Abbie when she wakes up.”

“But you have to work,” you protested.

He shook his head with a smile.

“I’m calling in sick. I may have to stay in bed all day because I’ve got a lot more apologizing to do.”

[ladylooch]

Nico hischier is so husband material. Like literally does anything for you. Your back hurts? He’s making you lay down so he can massage it.

I am missing sweet Nico. I’m going to use Nico and Lexi here to get the maximum sweetness. Hope you don’t mind 😘

Warnings: Swearing, Flufffffffy

Grittiness fill my eyes as I lean back in the elevator. I am returning for the first time after a long weekend shift at the hospital. My work as a pediatric nurse is feeling less and less rewarding these days. My feet are killing me. I’m so tired that I cannot even think straight. As the doors open, I cringe, remembering the state of the apartment when I left. Nico had been gone on a road trip and I didn’t have time to clean anything up before I headed for my shift. Now, he’ll be sleeping and I’m so exhausted, I don’t think I can muster any energy to clean. I’ll have to apologize for leaving our communal space such a mess.

I fumble in my bag, trying to find the keys to the apartment. I dig and dig to no avail. I’m getting increasingly frustrated, tears building in my eyes. I drop everything in my arms to the floor including my large, Yeti water bottle. I lean my head back towards the ceiling, resisting the urge to scream at the top of my lungs. I am toddler level overtired. I need to get inside before I lose my shit completely.

The lock flips suddenly and the door opens to reveal Nico.

“You’re up?” I say startled.

“Yeah! Couldn’t wait to see you.” He grins, lunging forward to pull me into his arms. He feels so good against my tired and worn body. I turn my nose into his neck, inhaling the scent of him. He smells like fresh body wash and his hair is still slightly wet. I kiss my way up his cheek as his lips trace along my collar bone. “Hi baby.” He murmurs.

“Hi Neeks. I missed you so much.” I keep my arms wrapped around him so he is stuck leaning down to hold me. His hands massage into my worn back muscles. I melt into his body. I can feel his smile against me as he moves his hands down to the backs of my thighs. He guides my legs around his waist, holding me up with one hand on my butt and gathering my dropped bags. 

“You tired?”

“Yeah and stressed. I had a hard shift.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Do you want to go right to bed?”

“No, I wanna hang out with you.”

“Okay, I’ll bring you to change.” He drops my bags by the couch then continues down the hall so I can change. “Actually, you should take a shower.”

“Do I smell?” I jolt back from him subconsciously.

“No. But I know you will feel better after a scalding shower.” He kisses my lips. “Hey, how did you get prettier while I was gone?”

“Oh stop.” I laugh, pushing his chest. 

“No, baby, I swear. You were at 25/10 and now you’re a 30…?” He moves my hand away, grabbing my hips to pull me flush with him. “I should help you undress. That’s what perfect boyfriends do.” He murmurs, kissing along my jaw. I close my eyes, threading my fingers through his hair and surrendering to him again.

“Neeks…”

“I know, sweets. Just taking your clothes off. Nothing else. But.. you know I want to right?”

“Me too.”

“Good. After your nap.”

“Yeah.”

He chuckles, pulling the top of my scrubs off. My pants come next and then my underwear. I take care of my socks myself. Nico turns the water on in the meantime. I reach for my pony tail, but he beats me to it, unwinding the elastic until my brown locks fall down. “31 now…” He whispers, letting his gaze stroke against all his favorite places before coming back to mine. “Enjoy your boiling.” He leaves after one more kiss.

Nico is right. The shower works wonders. The hot spray pounds my muscles and relaxes them. My hair gets a fresh scrub and my body exfoliated. I take my time, doing some of my specialty skin care to feel as beautiful as Nico insinuated earlier. I am thoroughly clean, lotioned and content when I head into our closet. I pull on Nico’s clothes- a Devils shirt and pair of sweatpants that hang off my frame in a comforting weight. I stop for a moment, bringing the collar to my nose and breathing in his scent. 

I run my hands through my wet strands to give them some volume while padding out to the main part of our apartment. My hand slowly falls from my head as I look around, realizing that Nico cleaned. There had been trash overflowing in the kitchen, dirty dishes in the sink. The counters were packed with pens and paper and mail and produce that was going bad. The living room pillows and blankets were strewn about. Laundry baskets of clean clothes made it impossible to use the whole couch. My eyes meet Nico’s. 

“You cleaned.”

“Yeah, you were on shift.”

“And you were on the road.” He shrugs, going into the refrigerator and pulling out mayo. That’s when I realize he is making us lunch. 

“I got home first.” 

“I’m so in love with you.” I whine, coming to bury my face in his back as he finishes folding our sandwiches together. “Thank you.” I kiss along the indent of his spine, then rest my cheek there again.

“You’re welcome. And I love you more.” He turns at the hips, handing me a plate. “What do you want to watch while we eat?”

“Nothing. I want to talk to you. Tell me all about your trip.” I insist.

“It was a little rough.” He sighs. 

“Tell me everything.” I say, crossing my legs on the couch and focusing in on him.

“We’re just… struggling.” He shakes his head, munching on a chip. “And I feel like I’m not leading well.”

“No way that is true.” I say after swallowing my first bite. His eyes meet mine. “You’re the perfect leader for this team. You were made for it.”

“Doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“I know you well enough to know you don’t want me to fix it. But promise me you’re being nice to yourself?”

“I am… For you.” 

We talk more about the trip through the remainder of the meal. By the time I’m finished eating, I’m so exhausted my eyes can barely stay open. The stress and frustration I had before has melted away with Nico’s love. Now, all that is left is the tiredness and hungover feeling from the long, work weekend.

“You need a nap.” All I can do is not wordlessly in agreement.

Nico wraps an arm around me while we head down the hall to bed. 

“You want me in here?”

“Yes. Missed your hot body next to mine.” I mumble. Nico pulls my side of the comforter back so I can crawl in. Once I’m settled, he tucks me in, then ghosts a hand lovingly over my hair. He closes the black out shades before turning on the air purifier for some white noise to drown out mid-day in the city.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna marry you.” I admit with hooded eyes as I watch him round the bed to his side. He chuckles as he tugs his sweatpants off, replacing them with shorts. “Tomorrow work for you?”

“Sure, sweets.” I smile then allow myself to submit to sleep. Nico pulls me into his chest, adjusting us into the perfect sleeping positions we have learned over the months we have been together. His lips skim mine, then he waits, listening for my breathing to even out before he responds.

“Even tomorrow wouldn’t be soon enough for me. Love you, Lex. Forever.”

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

ITS TIME

ok okay okaaay, thinking about slow build stomach flus. With Cyno ofc. And I won’t apologize. But I’m thinking like, the kind where pain and nausea come and go. But like across the span of a whole day and a half. There be a pang of discomfort and maybe an uncomfortable roll of the stomach…and then it’ll pass and the character is fine again for a good few hours. And for cyno i feel like just because it’s stomach pain and no other symptoms and the nausea comes and goes with a fair amount of time in between he’s like….it’s probably fine? But what I love about a slow build flu is that the other stuff just kinda settles in..I love the idea of a Cyno who (this kinda goes back to the whole getting sick on the night that everyone is out but nari prompt too!!) where all day he’s just like a tiny bit off. He’s getting ready to go out and doing his hair but stops cuz it’s suddenly too much energy. He grabs a drink of water but doesn’t finish it cuz it’s just..not sitting right? But like not even that it’s vaguer. And ofc he’s finding himself dreading nari not being there at first just a little more than normal? Idk the internal feeling of malaise is so interesting to me cuz you’re just sort of dragging… but with the flu it’s unavoidable..

so eventually the pains come more often, and it’s more specifically in the stomach and the nausea kicks up and the dizzy ness too. Maybe it’s by now he’s asking nari to go home, he feels bad and it’s almost like…he can’t escape the gross icky feeling slowly filling him up. His discomfort is just seeping into all parts of him and it’s hard to process why everything (his clothes the lights the room even his favorite card game) feels *bad* que the whole kaveh and alhaitham summoning Tighnari to come get his man cuz he looks likes either gonna puke pass out or cry (or all ??) and they are scared cuz somehow he also looks close to biting one of them…

I ALSO like the idea of a Cyno where they get home and he’s just falling apart (emotional maybe? Frustrated? Overtired?) idk cranky icky baby. His stomach hurts pretty bad now but it still hasn’t reached the point of it being an issue- until the next day. Because there’s something so soul crushing about hoping you’re gonna feel better in the morning and waking up feeling *way worse* and then ofc, the vomiting begins and there’s no way out but through.

ALSO unrelated but related light head Cyno dealing with bad food poisoning and passing out in front of Tighnari for the first time. Idk if I said this before so it so I’m so sorry!! Feel free to ignore if that’s the case lol. But Tighnari calling someone like kaveh or collie or anyone to talk too after Cyno is asleep and confirmed not dying and just breaking down? Yes. But!! Follow it by Cyno calling out to nari from the room, which totally embarrasses him. And Tighnari goes running cuz he’s worried sick but it turns out Cyno wants to comfort HIM! And nari is all no you need sleep but Cyno insists and talks with him until he literally can’t keep his eyes open or maybe the nausea starts to kick up. I just think it would be sweet…Cyno agreeing to not get up with out tighnari there in case he falls and tighnari allowing himself to get some much needed comfort too cuz whole shit that was wild.

I feel like I have more but I’ll chill for now 😂😂 if I remember I’ll speak up FEAR NOT

Oh my word YES!! All this is simply brilliant. And it's so fitting considering I have a Cyno stomach flu prompt to fill next 👀 I might just have to use some of these ideas, if that's alright with you!

I absolutely adore slow build up as well, if it's done right it's just ARGH! I love it! I think it's one of the reasons I enjoyed writing Through the Snow so much. Having a character be primarily fine, but those tiny little hints that something is wrong start to rear their heads. And it's so vague and far between that the character just can't put a finger on something being actually wrong, until things are really wrong.

Ahh all those ideas are so good. I love things just slowly building up the way you described- his arms just starting to feel heavy as he's doing his hair and he just wants to sit for a moment. Deciding to get a glass of water but he can't quite bring himself to finish it. Dreading going out and spending time with friends when that's something he usually loves. Longing for Tighnari's presence in a way that's much too vulnerable-feeling for Cyno's comfort.

AND don't get me started on the going to bed, hoping to sleep it off, waking up feeling worse trope, I freaking love that! Like you said, that absolutely soul-crushing realisation of realising you're not feeling any better, actually no, you feel worse.

It somewhat ties into this vague idea I've been chewing on, I love the idea of a character coming home, (let's go with Tighnari and Cyno, they're the center of attention right now after all) Tighnari coming home, either from a class he couldn't skip or from getting some necessities from the store. And he comes home knowing Cyno isn't feeling well - he's been off for a while now and maybe that morning was the morning he woke up and realised okay he's not feeling good and told Tighnari. And I'm just picturing Tighnari looking for him and finding Cyno looking so vulnerable. The type of vulnerability he usually shows only when he's alone. There are classics like finding him lying on the bathroom floor, or just miserable sitting with his head over the toilet, but the scene I have in head is him just lying on the bed. Curled in on himself, knees drawn up to his stomach, arms close to his chest. His back is to the door and he just looks so small and defeated.

That scene has a very high likelihood of appearing in a fic soon ahh.

And back to what were saying, YES! I remember I had a long ramble a while back about the scenario of Cyno passing out for the first time around Tighnari, and argh, it's another scenario I really want to bring to life in a fic at some point when the story is right for it. I don't want to risk repeating anything I already said in that post (it's late and I'm planning on heading to bed right after I finish typing this out, so my brain definitely isn't at its sharpest) so I'll keep my rambles brief, but I'm so in love with this scenario. And especially Nari in this situation, like he was rattled after that (how couldn't he be??) And I just have this feeling that, even though he's the sick one and this is all entirely outside of his control, Cyno would just have so much immense guilt for 'putting Nari through this.'

ALSO before I wrap up! I did read your follow up ask, and I have thoughts, BUT I'm going to hold off on answering it, just because some of the rambles I wish to ramble relate to my coming fic, and I don't want to spoil anything 👀

[astudyinimagination]

Years ago, I learned a trick here on Tumblr, and now I’m going to share it. If you ever struggle with self-worth or self-loathing, etc., I want you to try this, please.

Reframe how you talk about yourself, even if it’s only in your mind. If you find yourself saying “I’m stupid” or “I’m an idiot” or other such things a lot, pause when you do this. Think about WHY you made the mistake. Often it’s because you’re tired, or rushed, or stressed. Say “I’m not dumb; I’m just tired/stressed/hurting/whatever.” All of these things DO interfere with your ability to think logically! Most of us are willing to excuse others in such cases, and if you’re willing to tell a friend, “Hey, it’s okay; you’ve got a lot going on right now,” you should be willing to tell yourself that too.

The more you do it (saying it aloud is better too than simply thinking it), the more you literally train your brain to think a certain way about yourself. And it WORKS. (And, granted, it might not work for everybody, but you also don’t know until you try.)

It worked for me. The friends who have known me a long time will tell you: I use to have MASSIVE self-esteem issues. I thought I was stupid and pretty worthless. And then I saw something here that made me stop and think, about forgiving yourself in the same way that you forgive others. About reframing how you think of yourself. That if you believe that all life is precious, that means yours is, too. I decided to try to work on this mindset.

And, by golly, it actually WORKED. It took time, and it also took the support of friends, but it worked. I stopped insulting myself. I even started to feel GOOD about myself.

Earlier this year, I backslid. This has been a rough year for me and my family, and I’ve been stressed out and overtired on a regular basis. And I started calling myself an idiot again, for the first time in years. And once I finally noticed I was doing that, I started the trick again. “I’m not an idiot; I’m just tired.” And sometime in the past few months, I stopped again. The tiredness has continued. I’ve made more mistakes. But I’m not beating myself up for them anymore. I wouldn’t beat up friends or family for doing the same, so why should I hurt myself?

We all need grace, sooner or later. We need to give it, and we have to accept that we ourselves need it, too.

[darkesttimelinestuff]

"No, you won't understand, ever."

Thanks to the 6 people who will actually like my day 16 Fictober fic.

Prompt #23 - "No, you won't understand, ever."

Find me here

To say life had been stressful since Mulder’s disappearance is an understatement. The guilt weighed on Skinner daily. It was harder on days he had to see Dana Scully. And he saw her often. 

Skinner took a deep breath and swallowed. He was nervous, palms sweating, and he wasn’t sure why he had called Scully and asked her out for a beer. This was very unlike him. 

They had shared occasional dinner or drinks in the past, generally to talk about a case or, more likely, William. He had become very involved in the boy’s life, but he didn't know where he stood with Scully. More than a supervisor, not quite a friend. 

“Is everything all right, Walter? How’s your week been?”

“Big political mess up on the Director’s part. It’s above my head, but I’m getting a lot of the blowback. Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “it’s not something I can talk about and it’s not why I called you today.”

“Of course,” she said, folding her hands in front of her, red hair glistening in the dim light above them. She looked beautiful. Even overtired and bare-faced she was gorgeous.

“How have you been, Dana?” He was stalling.

“I’ve been fine. More tired than I ever thought possible. And I survived medical school. But I’m fine. I couldn’t do this without my mom’s help. Or your’s.” She looked at him seriously. A spark passed between them.

“That’s why I called you out tonight,” he said.

She arched a brow at him. “To talk about how tired I am? Because taking more time off is out of the question. My work is too important. I like what…”

“That’s not it,” he interrupted, taking her hand in his, surprising them both. She didn’t pull away, so Skinner continued. “I’ve always had a great deal of respect for you, Dana. And William means so much to me. It’s important that he has a man in his life, a father figure... It would be an honor if you would allow me to help you raise him.”

Scully’s jaw dropped open and she remained speechless for a long moment. 

“Sir,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his, “that is very kind and… You clearly feel a great sense of responsibility to me and to William, but you don’t have to do this! We’re doing okay.”

"No, you won't understand, ever,” Skinner protested. “What happened in Oregon was my fault. I think about it daily. But I’m not asking you to be my wife out of guilt. While I don’t kid myself that you could feel the same way, I am quite fond of William. And you. We could be happy together. We could be a family.”

After sitting thoughtfully for some time, Scully clutched his hand tighter. This is where she would let him down gently, tell him she values his friendship and respects him professionally. 

“Walter,” she said, voice low and full of emotion, “yes.”

“Yes?” he asked incredulously. “Really?”

“Yes,” she nodded. 

That night, while William slept at Maggie’s, Scully took Skinner back to her home. She kissed him and he made love to her once and then fucked her two more times. 

Their wedding was small and William beamed at them from Maggie’s lap. They never gave up their search for Mulder.

[finalmemesx]

Late Night with the Devil Ask Meme.

“Mindless violence lit up the sky.”

“I got it. Excuse me.”

“Remember darling?”

“How is someone not supposed to fall in love with that?”

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“I’ll be right back, and you will not.”

“What do you got there?”

“Oh, that’s not music.”

“So, you’re not meant to touch it?”

“That one went over the fence.”

“I get that joke.”

“Where is Vincent Price when you need him?”

“Hey, do I look nervous to you?”

“We use them to hide from angry spirits.”

“Do you hear the voices of the dead all the time?”

“I know, but it feels like only yesterday.”

“Who will accept?”

“We’re a little spooked back there.”

“What the hell are you still doing here?”

“You look like you might need a bourbon.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“If you liked it, yeah. I’ll take full credit.”

“I don’t have time to play kiss ass right now.”

“Holy smokes.”

“Many regarded you as the best in the biz.”

“I do not need that man’s money.”

“Do you need a drink of water?”

“What are you up to?”

“It’s going to be okay.”

“You’re just overtired, baby.”

“The ambulance is coming.”

“Silky as ever.”

“You can actually talk directly to me.”

“Have you ever watched my show before?”

“I was very sad when I heard about that.”

“Such wise words from one so young.”

“I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“It’s what’s going to help you sell your book.”

“You told me you’re ready for it.”

“You’re not going to back out right now.”

“The paramedics couldn’t get it under control.”

“Nobody can find out about this.”

“I’ll do the best that I can.”

“Where’s my sacrificial dagger?”

“I can’t stop it.”

“We haven’t come on here for your amusement.”

“And why do you call him that?”

“The people have spoken.”

“This is your moment.”

“Did you hear anything I said back there?”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I give you express permission to go right for that exit.”

“What has gotten into you?”

“Whatever you might see or hear, I ask you all to remain calm.”

“May I ask who is present now?”

“There is no need to be alarmed.”

“Good to see you again.”

“Why would you hurt me like that?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“A bit embarrassed, I guess. But I’m okay.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you go all screwy on me.”

“What is it about them that unsettles you?”

“You mean you have no idea?”

“You set the whole thing up.”

[laineystein]

So do you believe Hashem is a corporeal being that is an “interfering Gd?” I’m curious how you reconcile that the horrific trauma going on in the world right now. I’m one of the jaded people who go “If Hashem aides us and is an “interfering gd,” why didn’t he prevent 10/07? Why don’t he prevent the Shoah? 9/11? The actual ongoing genocide in Sudan? The actual ethnic cleansing of the Rohyngia? Are there limits His power that we don’t know about? Why can’t we know about them?”

I don’t think I’m an atheist, but as mentioned, I struggle with the idea that Hashem is an actual being to speak to. So I’m trying to figure out how I see Hashem, and I’m always genuinely curious at those who see Him as a being?. How do you reconcile it with all of the current and past horrid things going on in the world?

There’s a lot to unpack here. First and foremost, I am not a Rav. Even if I were, this is not a question a Rav would ever answer. Ultimately the question of why do bad things happen to good people? has a different answer for everyone because it really does come down to your personal relationship with G*d and only you know what that relationship is. So this is a big ask for some random Jew on tumblr but I’ll do my best to give you a somewhat coherent response.

I am overtired and delirious so excuse the rambling that’s about to happen…

For me, I don’t like the word interfering when referring to Hashem. Everything going on - everyone and all of their actions - is a result of Hashem’s work. You cannot interfere with your own creation. Interference connotes a disruption but Hashem isn’t disrupting anything. If something is happening, it is his plan that it do so. However, while I do believe that Hashem is in charge, humans also have free will. Hashem can guide and direct but ultimately he is not in complete control because even humans made in his image are susceptible to error. Hashem can and has given us the tools to create the world how he wants it but ultimately it is up to us in how we use them. Hashem has given us the tools to take care of ourselves and one another and maybe we have abused those tools or disregarded them and him completely. Is this why bad things happen? Is Hashem allowing tragedy because our own human error is ruining his original plan? I think so. This is my true belief. But ultimately I don’t know. No one does.

Where was he during the Shoah and where was he on October 7th? I don’t have an answer for you. I’m angry at him. I’m still trying to make sense of it. I know we did not deserve what happened and I still struggle to see how any of this mess fits into his plan. But I trust that it somehow does. And for what I cannot explain and understand, my faith in Hashem guides me. I could not control any of the horrible things that happened but I can use the tools Hashem has gifted me with to repair my world going forward - my work as a doctor, the volunteering I do, prayer and tzedekah - all of these things were created by Hashem and I have the capacity to use these things to be a better Jew and to help my fellow Jews. This self-love and this unity is what will bring about redemption. Because for as much as Hashem loves us and would like to see all of us succeeding and happy, Moshiach has not come and until he does, there is going to be pain and suffering and failure. That is the reality of the pre-Moshiach word. This is why we all should pray for Moshiach and do things that will bring redemption (things we have the capacity to do because of Hashem’s love for us and alls he has gifted us with!!!) because only he can eliminate pain and suffering.

[statticscribbles]

Meeting

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Summary: Barry Allen (female)/Male Reader, One shot; Reader meets Oliver for the first time and wonders how he and Barry can be friends.

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You’re trying to be quiet, you know it's an hour earlier than you usually get up, not to mention Bailey had only come in two hours ago from some fight she wouldn’t talk about. She mumbles about someone unexpected dropping in and then laughs at it which makes you check her for a concussion. She doesn’t have one, she must be overtired and you’re trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible to avoid waking her up.

“Ollie’s coming by later for dinner.” She grumbles as she turns over on the bed, not really sitting up but moving just enough to watch as you get ready. You pull your jacket over your shirt and lean over to kiss her slowly.

“Ollie?” You can vaguely remember Bailey having mentioned someone coming for dinner but there’s a faint spike of worry that you can’t remember who exactly it is. You know she wouldn’t bring anyone who’s a threat but you also know that some of her particular friends might bring trouble without meaning to. 

“Oliver Queen.” She mumbles already half asleep again.

“Oliver?” You tilt your head, Bailey hadn’t mentioned him and you knew she often introduced her ‘flash friends’ by whatever name they chose. Or were given, you weren’t really sure how that worked. You sighed a little watching her turn over, fully asleep and putting an end to the conversation.

You leave a note asking her to message you what you need to bring home, either take-out or groceries to actually prepare a dinner for both of you and Oliver. You make a point to message her at a more reasonable hour the same note, but also confirming it’ll just be Oliver joining the two of you.

It’s just take out. You remind yourself that Oliver can’t be anyone you want to impress. Or anyone Bailey feels the need to impress if how she’d asked for all her favourite dishes mean anything. You focus on this calling in the usual order for dinner you always have at your favourite place. You don’t think much about it either way, trying to avoid the annoyance spiking in the back of your mind, and avoiding thinking about all the ways they may have met before you’d come into Bailey’s life. Unfortunately the only other thing for you to think about is how worried Bailey was about the threat she was barely talking about. She’d said she tell you everything soon, and you hope that Oliver will make that easier. The last thing you want is someone explaining everything to you after the danger has passed. You know you’re not a match for any sort of villain, you’re just a radio host; but you hate not being aware about the dangers your girlfriend is putting herself in.

You blink, surprised to see Bailey’s eyes light up and then Oliver, who you assume is the man on the couch, chuckling slightly. You hadn’t thought she’d let herself be caught off guard, she always seemed to know where you are in the house, and you’d messaged her that you were only a few minutes out.

“That must be Y/N home then?”

“Yes! How was work?” Bailey grins at you like there’s not a stranger sitting on your couch. He’s glaring a little now and you try not to scowl back.

“I come bearing food, you must be Oliver.”

“Oh good, I’ll get plates.” You want to pull Bailey into your arms.

“So he knows right?”

“Course, I’m the flash right baby?”

“Yep, Guessing Oliver is???” You nod towards him and he smirks.

“Green Arrow.” You nod trying to hide your confusion. Bailey was pretty much a human sunbeam; you wonder if she was associating with Oliver out of necessity but when she hands him a plate and he scowls until she presents him a fork from behind her back, do you he can see that it seems to be more siblings teasing each other than anything else. Oliver laughs at you, you know you’ve given them a weird look and Bailey grimaces a little as you sit next to her.

“Thwane… The threat is.. Well we think…” Bailey seems nervous and you squeeze her hand.

“Take your time, tell me everything.” You nod and can see Oliver smiling a little, you hope that means he approves of you.

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[xjustakay]

Hi :) in case you would like some airport distraction I am offering an extremely niche head cannon inquiry:

Do you think there a limit to the number of times firefighter James will let Reg play “is it a fire hazard?” and if so what is it?

Considerations:

Does James have unlimited patience (does he secretly like playing??) or does he have a go-to distraction/redirection method (kisses?) and what would be the tipping point to get him there? (I’m thinking there might be some sort of intersection between the annoyance and horniness spectrums)

Does Reg eventually get bored with his own game (see intersecting spectrums as outlined above) or does his desire to have the upper hand and make James break first win out?

Hope you have a safe flight!! <3

HELLO. had to get plane wifi actually so greetings from the sky rn lmao. thank you so much, you’re so sweet<33 

also i LOVE THIS QUESTION SM HAHA

a much longer answer than you probably ever wanted below. sorry in advance 😂

james actually thinks the little game of it all is funny most of the time, especially bc he loooves when regulus matches his energy that little bit and is playful about things lol, and he’s a sucker for all things that make regulus smile. plus, he’s like actually deeply proud of his job, mister hero complex himself. generally speaking he likes being able to be like “yeah this is my job and i LOVE it actually” he just gets real geeky about it sometimes in a way that’s easy to tease, he’s an excitable dude lmao. he’s absolutely out here distracting by kissing regulus and poking at the spots he knows are ticklish and giving little tugs at his hair to rile him up differently in return though (these fools are adults god help them lmao) there are days where he gets a little Over It, just because he’s overtired or because, no matter how much he does love his job, he still does want like a Full Stop break from thinking about it sometimes because it can be A Lot for him.

but when it comes to regulus, he’s veryyyy, very good at paying attention to body language and tone, then acting/responding accordingly based on those tells (comes from living with the sort of parents that he had and his relationship with them). so that said, he can often guess well enough WHEN it’s okay for him to be playing that game and have it not be an issue, or when he’s genuinely starting to push james’ buttons, etc. at the end of the day, it’s just for fun, like regulus is kind of doing it specifically because he’s never dated a firefighter before so like why not, yknow? lmao. he loves teasing james bc james either teases him right back in however way he sees fit or he literally proves him right and rattles off on a dorky little work tangent (which regulus finds deeply entertaining that this hot as hell, rizzed up man can still sometimes be such a nerd about specific things lmao). so it’s a win-win for regulus tbh bc either way he’s got james’ attention and maybe he’s making james laugh a little too which is something he knows he’s not always as good at as james is.

it’s not an all the time thing, either, which makes a difference. at a certain point, it’s more repetitive than either of them actually need and it just kind of fades into obscurity as a fond little memory of their early dating days that maybe comes up super randomly one day when one of them are abruptly like oh my god remember when? hahaha

thank you again, this was fun, i appreciate you MWAH<33

[happilydistinguishedbanana]

Fallen Pt. 2: Introductions

Authors note: I’m trying to get this story moving, and I promise that the reader will be able to chat with other characters normally!! But I’m thinking the longer she’s there, the more she’ll begin to under. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!! I still also need to decide who is going to be the love interest!! I might put up a poll for you guys to decide.

Warnings: Mentions of nausea

Summary: Every bit of me is scared being in a strange place that I used to love watching behind a screen, but a little part of me is hopeful. Hopeful that I’ll be assigned to the Bad Batch.

Word count: 2239

Relationship: Undecided Batcher(s) x Female Reader

For the next week I was watched. Of course, I never actually caught anyone watching me, but it was that strange, tickling feeling at the back of my neck that let me know someone’s eyes were on me. Sleep didn’t come easily.

My mind was constantly thinking about Corey. I had gotten on her a lot for not having many friends, or at least any good ones. But she was the only friend I had at the college. We met freshman year and we’ve been stuck at the hip since. I started to wonder if she had gotten home safely that night and headed over to my dorm. And even though none of this was my fault, I still felt terrible that I couldn’t have met her halfway.

I had a lot to lose in this situation. I had a family back home, a life, a college education that was almost complete. I met a boy in class, a very sweet boy. We would study together and get coffee or lunch just outside the college campus. He answered my calls instead of ignoring them. He took me out for dates and then walked me back to my dorm to make sure I was safe. He had kissed me just days before I fell into this alternate universe. He kissed me, and I never got the chance to kiss him back.

It was things like this that kept me locked up in my pompous room with its pompous decor and pompous view. It was sickly to be in there, but maybe I wanted to feel sick. At some point, I started to think that karma is real and that stealing that box of cigarettes when I was fourteen was actually a lot worse than I thought.

Eventually I had to leave the nauseating comfort of my room. Not by choice of course. Obi Wan walked with me all the way to a landing station built for military personnel. He made me pack a bag too, so I could only assume that my stay is over.

Ships flew in and out in mesmerizing patterns that slowly started to make my head light after looking up for so long. It was loud. Engines roared and hyperdrives sputtered after the long trek to Coruscant. Obi Wan walked through the bay casually like none of the loud noises and thundering ships bothered him. I guess it wouldn’t if he’s off on missions as often as the show portrayed.

They should be here soon. His words filtered onto the datapad I still carried close to me. The port isn’t nearly large enough for a large ship filled with overtired and overworked clones. I’m assuming I was being put with an elite force, a force small in size but large in assets. But could it really be the Bad Batch?

We stood for a while in silence. It was awkward to make conversation with the language barrier. I wondered if I’ll ever get a translator, one that wasn’t a square device that I could fit in my hand.

Obi Wan perks up then, his eyes watching the mouth of the hanger eagerly. A ship flys in suddenly, with two down turned wings and a metal horn that sticks out of the top. The Marauder. The Bad Batches' Omicron-class shuttle just flew into the hangar.

The Jedi approached their ship with determination. I was starting to get the idea he was excited to get rid of me. But I stood still, partly out of shock, partly out of fear. The Bad Batch was an elite squadron of clones that had favorable mutations. They went on elite missions, tackled elite tasks, and fought a hundred droids with just the four of them. And sure, they’re probably one of my safer options, but I can’t even stand the thought of blood and gore. I bet trying to shoot someone would be even worse.

I watched them file out of the ship one by one. My hands rubbed at my eyes several times. Seeing Obi Wan and Windu was something, but this was entirely unreal. When they took off their helmets, they were a lot different looking than I expected. Maybe it's because they’re more real.

They talked for a while, just them and Obi Wan. There was this weird aura of respect between them. Wrecker was laughing, Tech put away his datapad, Hunter was Hunter, and even Crosshair seemed to be in a good mood. It was refreshing to see. But it also hurts to know what happens to them.

I didn’t realize I was smiling until Obi Wan gestured in my direction, alerting the men of my presence. My lips dropped, and suddenly I felt that same vulnerability I felt wearing that hospital gown.

I met them halfway but said nothing. It was one thing talking to one person at a time, it's a completely different thing to talk to four.

These are the clones that you are assigned to. Obi Wan told me, looking back at the group of clones. The batch eyed us and our interaction carefully. I felt my palms start to sweat.

“I can see that.” Obi Wan watches the datapad in my hand and chuckles.

They will watch over you, but you will have to follow them on missions. It could be dangerous. The others glance at each other with a knowing tilt of their heads. Hunter chuckled and I felt a shiver crawl down my spine.

“I don’t have much of a choice.” I shrugged though I could feel my heart beating faster. “Even if I stated my opinion, I doubt it would matter.”

Obi Wan frowned and turned to the rest of the group. They talked quietly, quiet enough that the translator couldn’t pick up what they were discussing. I grinded my foot into the ground impatiently.

A weird feeling in me was telling me to look up and I did. I regretted it. Crosshair was scowling at me, his gaze penetrating right through me. He was one of my favorites in the show, well, they’re all my favorite, so it was a bit of a reality check that he probably wouldn’t like me right off the bat. I am getting all up in his brother's business after all.

I stare at him blankly. One thing about staring contests is that you can get away with a lot of stuff. His eyes were a lovely golden brown color, his skin a lot tanner than the show portrayed, his lips quirking up slightly as if his permanent frown wasn’t all that permanent. He was beautiful, yet terrifying at the same time because behind all that beauty is a soldier, a sniper, and a killer. And if I were to give him any reason not to trust me, I don’t think he would hesitate to end me.

The datapad vibrated in my hand and I looked away. Obi Wan started to speak again. My neck warmed, not from embarrassment but from the sudden prospect of me being alone with four men. It made me nervous.

I must take my leave, it read. He waited for me to nod before giving me a quick smile and headed off. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye.

I rubbed my arms up and down. This was no good. No good at all.

Hunter started speaking to me, his voice gruff and serious. Unwavering. Of course I didn’t understand a thing until the device in my hand translated it to me. We need to head out in a few. Take your bags into the ship. Wrecker will show you around.

“All business.” I shook my head while the others looked at me curiously. “Can’t even introduce yourselves.” I mumbled quietly enough that Tech wouldn’t pick up what I was saying. Those damn goggles of his would be a problem. I was no fool to know that they translate any language that you could think of, and once again I felt like every part of me was being bled out through the words that came out of my mouth. I was exposed, and I had no power to fix it.

I hauled my bag up without the help of the largest clone of the batch. He was quite muscular, but he was still lean in some places. His scar on his face was a lot more graphic than I anticipated, and I tried my best to not regurgitate my lunch. I suddenly felt bad for being so sensitive.

The ship smelled of sweat and man, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Inside was self explanatory. Wrecker wouldn’t need to give me a tour.

I dumped my luggage into an empty corner. Wrecker was speaking rather nervously, saying more than he should, stumbling over his words. Not that I could understand any of it. It was cute that I made him fidgety. Big scary guy with a warm personality.

“Calm down.” I waved a hand in his direction. “All is well.”

He looked confused so I pulled up my datapad. He read it, widened his eyes, and then bloomed into the toothiest smile I had ever seen. I was taken aback.

He started to speak more rapidly than before, his nervousness dissipated into resolute joy. The translator could not pick up his words fast enough, each sentence a jumbled mess of what he was saying. And then suddenly I didn’t need to read the screen.

“-an’t wait for you to see us fightin’ those clankers!”

I whipped my head around, the task of unpacking my luggage long forgotten. My mouth parted and I shouted out a rude ‘stop!’

He froze and shut his mouth. The ship was silent except for the soft putt putt putt of what I think was the hyperdrive. Wrecker looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and I had no doubt I looked the same.

“What did you say?” I gaped at him. “Say it again.”

He looked at the datapad I had placed between us. He hesitantly spoke again, but it was the same, unfamiliar language that I was surrounded by. I couldn’t stop the moan of disappointment from leaving my lips.

“Dammit.” I cursed, turning back to my measly attempt at unpacking. There was hardly anything in the large duffle bag. A pair of flats and a pair of boots. A warm cloak, two pairs of pants, a pair of shorts, a few long sleeved shirts, a few short sleeves, several pairs of underwear and a white cloth to wrap my breasts because apparently bras don’t exist here unless you like the thin structure of a bralette. Oh, and a fashionably extravagant dress that I was certain would look terrible on me.

Wrecker didn’t speak any more, and I wasn’t surprised when I turned around and he wasn’t lingering behind me like he’d been doing. It was strange to be alone on the ship, but I felt a wave of relief. For the first time since I came here I felt alone. Actually alone. There were no shivers, no judgmental gazes watching me, no tenseness in my shoulders. It was a delightful feeling.

But it didn’t last for long. When you’re constantly watched all week, its not hard to tell when someone’s gaze lands on you.

“It's rude to stare.” I say. I zip up my bag and turn, expecting to see the cold sniper. But instead it's the intelligent mechanic.

Tech goes about the ship casually, as if he didn’t just get caught staring at me. He speaks a few words, and I laugh when the datapad translates his words. It would be unavoidable. We will be in close proximity with each other.

He glanced up at me, his fingers stilling over the button to the cockpit. He cocked his head like a chicken. It was cute.

“I suppose, though I’m sure I’ll have more problems with it than any of you.” I stand up from the floor and brush off my pants. His eyes watched me brilliantly.

He nodded shortly after, and I weirdly felt like I was actually having a normal conversation for once. And after my strange interaction with Wrecker, I was hoping that maybe I can get rid of my translating device all together. Eventually.

We chatted for a while until the others came back. Hunter showed me an empty closet where I could stay, and Crosshair eyed me with a look that was filled with interest. But I didn’t look too much into it. I was tired, emotionally drained, and felt the burning feeling of anxiety in my chest. It didn’t help when the batch took off, my feet tripping over themselves, landing me square into the wall. My face heated when I heard the crude snipers chuckle.

And then there was silence. I peeked in the cockpit to witness the colorful array of hyperspace. It was pretty to watch, but with the nauseous feeling that dug itself in my stomach after take off, I turned away before I puked all over the back of Hunter's head.

The only thing that was on my mind was getting rest, and while I laid on my hard mattress, a blanket barely big enough to cover the entirety of my body, I thought of all the possible thrilling things that could happen on my adventures with the Bad Batch. But I also thought of all the terrifying things too.

[thekristen999]

Fuck it Friday. Tagged by @spotsandsocks​ and @ajunerose​. Thank you!

I was out of town then got swamped at work. I don’t have anything new to share. But I had a DM over the weekend asking me what I thought was my most underrated fic in the fandom.

I’d say it’s Hand Covers Bruise   

I’ve always wanted to write meta regarding Eddie’s complicated relationship with fighting and self defense. There has to be some interesting backstory there. No one just ‘becomes good’ at street fighting. This story became some deep Eddie character exploration. 

Excerpt:

Sweat dotted his brow, the muscles in his shoulders burning, his fists smacking leather. He paid attention to his footwork, moving and adjusting, keeping his balance, ensuring his punches were powerful. That his arms didn’t overtire.

Eddie got lost in it. The bag. The punches. The focus of it all.

And then he stopped, chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face, his body thrumming with endorphins.

“Do you remember the first time we actually talked?”

Eddie whirled around at Buck’s voice. He stared at him, his brow furrowed. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” Buck handed him a water bottle. “If I recall, our first conversation started here.”

Eddie took a long swig of water, waiting for his pulse to slow down. “And if I recall, you were being a bit territorial.”

“I was.” Buck leaned against the metal bracket holding up the bag. “Then again you were kind of distracting.”

Eddie took another gulp.

Buck filled out a pair of gym shorts, displaying muscled calves and thighs. He had on a white tank top and carried a pair of his own gloves. His eyes almost twinkled. “You know. I don’t think we’ve ever sparred before.”

Adrenaline had a specific odor, filled with cortisol and pheromones.

Eddie started removing his gloves. Buck reached over, touching his hand. “Hey, come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Sorry, I don’t think so.”

A flash of disappointment spread across Buck’s face. “Why not?”

Buck loved competition, but it had its place. Eddie shook his head. “I’d prefer not to.”

“Prefer not to? Or prefer not with me?” Buck crossed his arms. “I’ve been boxing for years. I might not have trained as hard as you. Or done MMA.”

“That’s not it.”

“Sparring can be friendly.”

“I know.” Eddie tugged off his gloves, a knot forming inside his gut. “And I know we’d both be good in the ring. But I don’t want to. Not with you...or anyone.”

This time Buck’s eyes widened with guilt. “Oh.”

Eddie stared at the heavy bag, at the red leather. He still used it at the firehouse, but he hadn't entered a ring in almost two years.  Not since Eddie had been the walking wounded, grief stricken and numb to the world, so numb that he used something healthy and turned it into a cage.

“Eddie?”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry, Buck. I hope you’re okay with my decision?”

“Of course.” Buck stepped closer, the zeal from earlier replaced by worry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Eddie laughed because they both knew the answer to that. “Not right now. But maybe when everything stops buzzing around in my head.”

@putijeansdiaz-ronordmann​ made a beautiful cover for it.

Tagging @mellaithwen​ @megsvstheworld​ @renecdote​ @shortsighted-owl​ @thebestbooksaround​ @andavs​ @homerforsure​ @fleurdebeton​ @alyxmastershipper​@loveyourownsmiilee​ and anyone else who wants to play.

[lam-ila]

Subtle || Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: part two to Accidentally Blurting Out “I Love You” During a Conversation even tho nobody asked for it

Word Count: 772 in total, 666 without instagram edit, 455 without instagram edit and texts

Maleeha’s Masterlist

Warnings: none (please let me know if you find any that i should add)

a/n: this is gender neutral. hope you enjoy this! feedback is appreciated

LIKES ARE GREAT, REBLOGS ARE BETTER ♡

After a few more shared kisses, you pulled away from Matthew.

“So…” Matthew said, extending the ‘o’. “I think it would be pretty cool if I could be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You looked at him after he officially became your boyfriend, both smiling like crazy at each other.

“Do you wanna keep this private or…”

“We’ll take it easy.” You explained “Let’s stay subtle, but not private.”

“Subtle-”Matthew thought about it for a bit. “Subtle is good.”

“Good.” You smiled at him again and gave him another kiss. “We should actually probably go back now; Brady’s gonna think you murdered me or something.”

“I would do no such thing!” Matthew dramatically exclaimed while taking your hand. As soon as you two were in the eyesight of the rest of the Tkachuk family, you let go of his hand and made your way to your respective seats.

“Good, you’re back. I was starting to worry that Matthew murdered you.” Brady joked. You glanced over to Matthew with a slight smirk as if to say ‘I told you so’.

“Don’t worry,” you chuckled. “Matthew was giving me good company.”

After dinner, Matthew went to hangout with his teammates while you, Brady, Taryn, Chantal, and Keith went back to the hotel you were staying at. You spent some time with Brady and Taryn before getting a text from Matthew.

Matty T ♡

do you want me to tell brady about us dating?

You

i’m with him and taryn rn. i’ll tell them dw

Matty T ♡

okay great. thank you sm

You took a deep breath before saying “Brady, Taryn, I have to tell you something.”

“Yeah, what is it?” Brady responded as he turned towards you, placing all of his attention towards you.

“Okay, so-”

“You and Matthew are dating.” Taryn abruptly cut you off.

“Uh- I- well- I mean- yeah.” You stammered out. “Well, as of today when we went outside, yes.”

“Good.” You watched in shock as Taryn held out her hand, motioning for Brady to give her something. Brady dug out his wallet, pulled out a ten dollar bill and slapped it into her hand.

“Were you two betting on if Matthew and I are dating?”

“Yup, and I just got 10 bucks richer.”

“Brades,” You turned to look at him, unsure of what his reaction to the news is. “Are you okay with-”

“Yeah,” he responded after a deep breath. “but if he hurts you or does anything wrong, I’m going to-”

“It’s okay B. There’s a sweet side to him.” You explained. “And besides, we agreed to taking our relationship nice and easy. We’re gonna stay subtle.”

“Matthew and subtle are definitely two words that don’t go together.” Brady laughed. He got out of his seat, stepping towards you to give you a hug. “But I’m serious, if he does anything wrong, you tell me first.”

“Will do.” As Brady and Taryn left to get ready for bed, you opened your texts, sending Matthew an update.

You

sooo your siblings had a bet on whether or not we’re dating

Matty T ♡

oh goodness. who won?

You

taryn. she got $10

Matty T ♡

i’m guessing they took it well?

You

yup. except brady’s gonna hurt you if you do anything bad

Matty T ♡

that’s not my plan to do so

You

that’s what i told him. as well as that you have a sweet side

Matty T ♡

nooo! he can’t know that!

You

haha whoops

can i post something about you winning the first round?

Matty T ♡

yeah sure

just stay subtle

You

i will dw

there, is that subtle enough for you?

Matty T ♡

it’s perfect

You

that is a not so subtle comment

Matty T ♡

it’s a necessary comment, the amount of subtleness gets shadowed by the necessity of the comment

You

ohhh so now you’re a scholar

Matty T ♡

oh shush

now please get some sleep. i don’t want you getting overtired

You

alrighty. goodnight

Matty T ♡

goodnight my love

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yourusername

Liked by matthew_tkachuk, bradytkachuk and 482 others

yourusername so proud of you. let’s go flames!

Tagged: @ matthew_tkachuk

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matthew_tkachuk ❤️❤️

nhlflames they’re rooting for the right team!

andrewmangiapane why thank you. i am also proud of me

matthew_tkacuk @ andrewmangiapane sorry bud, i think they meant me

bradytkachuk very subtle

taryntkachuk @ bradytkacuk indeed, very subtle

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