#I’ll figure out how I feel most comfortable drawing em

[monkeybebop]

“This dude looks handsome, no?”

Still tryna figure out how to draw Lalo, bear with me here.

[forever-rogue]

A Bucky request for you queen: Reader takes Bucky to meet her family for the first time, and he’s already nervous, but he’s even more nervous when you ask if he wants to hold your sisters new baby bc he doesn’t wanna hurt the baby and he thinks he’s still damaged.

But eventually you convince him to hold the baby and then he sees how good you are and he thinks about having a family for the first time and things can either get fluffy or smutty, whatever u r feelin

Have a great day love!🤍

A/N: enjoy some soft fluff! 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

PART 2

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Bucky?” you stared at your reflection, putting your earrings in to complete the final outfit touch. You were getting ready to head over to your sister’s house in order to see her, her husband, and their newborn baby for the first time. You were excited to go, beyond ready to see her again and meet the newest addition to your family. Meanwhile Bucky was going through a series of emotions as he tried to ground himself and settle his nerves. He’d been reluctant to agree to go, not because he wasn’t happy to come, but more so because of the bundle of nerves that had welled up at the prospect of meeting a tiny, brand new life. As soon as he’d seen how your face light up in excitement at the prospect of going over, he couldn’t say no when you invited him to come with you. Then again, Bucky could never say no to you, “are you ready to go, my love?”

“I’m ready,” he agreed quickly as he stepped out of your shared bedroom, clearing his throat as he pulled on his leather jacket. You turned, flashing him a dazzling smile that still made him weak in the knees, when you noticed a worried expression on his face. You flounced over, hands going to his shoulders as you offered him a reassuring squeeze. You gazed into his eyes, trying to gauge what was going on in his mind when he let out a small huff. He knew you could read him like a book, “alright. I-I’m nervous about meeting...the baby.”

“James,” you reached up and rested your hand on his cheek, relaxing as he lightly keened into your touch. His hands found purchase on your waist as you leaned into him, brushing your lips against his, “you have nothing to be worried about. She’s just a baby, she’s got no right to judge and she won’t. She’ll see Uncle Bucky and fall right in love. Talk to me, love, tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re going to laugh,” he turned his gaze away, but you reached up and put your hand under his chin and shifted his gaze back to you, “it’s stupid.”

“I’m not going to laugh,” you insisted quietly, “you could tell me anything and it wouldn’t be stupid.”

“I just worry,” he sighed after a few beats of silence passed between the two of you, “what if...what if he’s still in there? Some small part of him and he...snaps. Or something. She’s going to be so small and all it would take it one little-”

“Bucky,” you reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly in your own before lacing your fingers together, “you are not him anymore - he is not you. He never was. You are James Buchanan Barnes and no one else. He is not a part of you anymore at all. You are free of all of that. You are good, you are. I know sometimes it’s harder to believe than others, but it is true.”

“I know,” he closed his eyes for a few moments, lashes fluttering against soft skin as a small sigh passed his lips. He squeezed your hand back before resting his head on your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his waist, “it’s just...I don’t want to have a moment of...weakness.”

“You won’t,” you insisted softly, “maybe right now you don’t need to believe in yourself, but can you believe in me?”

“Always,” you could feel him smiling lightly against your warm skin as he nodded.

“Good,” you pressed a kiss to the side of his head, “now, trust me because I trust you in you. Now, let’s go, otherwise we’ll be late and then then everyone will be mad.”

“Everyone’s going to be there?”

“Just my parents, my brother, my sister and her husband and the baby of course,” you stepped back and looked him over before leaning in and kissing him quickly, “they know you, Bucky. The real you and they love you. There’s nothing to fear. Might I also add that you look very handsome today. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“You look beautiful,” you just happened to be wearing one of the dresses he loved most on you. He’d never commented on it, but you’d seen the way his blue eyes had lit up when you’d first worn it. You figured it would be something to help ease his nerves, almost to ground him as you had a suspicion that he might be nervous. He’d gotten much more comfortable around your family over the last year, but you knew that his general anxiety and fears sometimes bubbled up, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you promised as you held your hand out towards him. He strode over slowly before taking your hand in his and inhaling and exhaling deeply. He could do this - you knew he could and he knew he could too. Your support had meant everything to him and have him that little push he needed to get over the lingering bit of insecurity he had.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“She’s so small,” you said softly as you held the small baby in your arms. She was sleeping soundly, her little lips forming a perfect pout as you rocked her gently, “she’s beautiful.”

“She better be,” your sister joked, “nine months and then 30 hours of labor - she better be beautiful!”

“You’re the worst,” your eyes widened in surprise before you giggled quietly, “how’s she been?”

“Aurora’s been so good,” she said and you traced over her chubby little cheeks, “lots of long days and nights and more dirty diapers than I care to admit, but she’s worth it. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I can see why,” she was so small and tiny, a new life that had so much ahead of her. The idea made your heart melt, “it must all be terribly scary and exciting.”

“It is,” she agreed as she nudged your knee with hers, “what about you and Bucky? Ever think about starting a family of your own? You guys have been together for a while and it’s something to think about…”

“We’ve...vaguely discussed it,” you confessed, looking up just in time to spy Bucky casting a quick look at you. He was mid-conversation with your father and brother but shot you a soft smile before turning back to the conversation. Your breath caught in your throat as a warmth settled in your belly, setting off a course of butterflies. What you hadn’t seen was all of the other gentle, tender glances he’d been throwing your way since you’d gotten there. You sister cleared her throat before drawing your attention back in, “but umm...it’s never really gotten that far. I dunno what’s going to happen, but I like to think maybe one day we’ll get married. I don’t see a future with anyone else.”

“You really love him, don’t you?” she asked softly as you nodded, feeling a warmth creep up into your cheeks as you avoided looking at her face.

“I do,” you bit your lip as you stared at the small baby that had started cooing softly. Her eyes slowly opened as she nodded before looking around and smiling. She waved her chubby little arm around before reaching for your finger and curling her fist around it. You beamed at her before pressing a kiss to her forehead, “just like you already.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Bucky?” your voice was soft as you walked outside to the backyard where he was standing and watching the sun slowly setting and painting the sky in brilliant pinks and purples. He hesitated for the slightest of moments before turning to you with a half smile on his features.You were holding Aurora in your arms, and she was already back to being half asleep. His nerves shot up but he quickly calmed down when he realized how tranquil the portrait painted in front of him was. You made it all seem so easy and effortless - it was new and foreign to you too, but you were handling it so well. Maybe he could as well, “would you like to meet your niece? To hold her?”

“I don’t...I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said softly as you both took a few steps towards each other. You offered him a hopeful little smile as the baby opened her eyes and turned to look at Bucky. He met her eyes and she babbled excitedly at him. Suddenly, something within snapped as his whole demeanor shifted and his expression softened as he took in a shuddering breath. He could do this, he realized, he could do this.

“Bucky?” this was more hopeful and optimistic as he came towards you and cautiously held his arms open to you. He only nodded as you looked at him to make sure it was okay. Shifting the tiny human from your arms to his, you watched as Bucky took to water like a duck to water as he made sure she was secure in his grip. It was a sight to behold and you felt your heart beat wildly.

“She’s so...new,” was all he could get out as you laughed at him. He almost couldn’t take his eyes off her as you gave his shoulder a squeeze, “so tiny.”

“That’s kind of what a baby is,” you joked as you stuck your tongue out at him and he jokingly scoffed, “see, it’s all easy squeezy lemon peasy.”

“It’s not as hard as I thought,” he confessed after a few moments, “it feels…”

“Yeah,” you pressed a kiss to the side of his head as you finished for him after a few beats of peaceful silence, “I know.”

“Do you think I could have a few moments alone?” he asked as you nodded, standing back and admiring the sight of your boyfriend holding your niece. It struck up something within you and while you weren’t quite sure what it was, you couldn’t help but revel in it.

“I’ll be inside,” you promised, “dinner will be ready soon.If you need anything, just say the word and I’ll be right there.”

“I know,” he grinned, “I know.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky watched you walk back inside and close the screen door, holding a hand up as he lightly waved back at you. A wary sigh escaped his lips as the baby watched him with nothing but curiosity in her eyes. He’d held babies before, in another life, one which was stolen from him but had led him here. But he wasn’t angry about that anymore; he’d spent many years in anger about it and he was past that. He knew, one of the things that had helped him out of that anger and hatred was you. If his cards had been played any differently, you wouldn’t have been a part of his, and you had slowly but definitely become one of the best parts of his life.

It felt so foreign but so right in that moment as he stared at the small life in his arms. He’d never really pictured himself with a family of his own, once in his old life he might have, but he hadn’t in a long time. With you, something had trickled in, slowly blooming over time to become stronger and stronger. And after seeing you with the baby, there was something in him that had come full circle. And as he looked at her little face, he couldn’t help but wonder what your own child would like. Would they have his eyes? His dark shock of hair? Or would they take after you? Either way, he knew whatever child the two of you might have would be beautiful.

“Hi Aurora,” he whispered to her as he allowed him to touch her cheek, finding the faith and trust deep within himself, “you’re still so new to this world. You don’t know about all the horrors and scary parts yet. But there are so many good things too, lots of beautiful things. I will do my best to protect you from all the bad parts, I promise. Whatever you need, I will be there.”

She smiled at him, a toothless, gummy thing as he beamed at her. Maybe...maybe one day this could be a reality for the two of you as well. Bucky let himself relax as it felt like a weight lifted off of his shoulders at the realization that he was okay. That nothing had happened and nothing would happen. He was okay...he was okay. He closed his eyes for a moment as he remembered how you looked holding her earlier. The sight had sparked something within him too; it was a sight he had thoroughly enjoyed seeing. For the first time in a long time, he had allowed himself to think that maybe he could have this too, that he could have a family and happiness of his own.

A sigh, this one contented and happy, escaped his lips as he cradled Aurora against his chest and watched the sun disappear behind the horizon, “I think maybe one day I could be a dad. I think..I think I’d like that. Especially after today...I feel like it could be an actual possibility. I was nervous about today - meeting you. I know it sounds silly, especially since you’re just...a baby. I wasn’t sure if I could...trust myself - it’s still hard sometimes. Not often but there are times. You helped me to see that maybe it’s not so hard after all. Whatever it is, I-I’m willing to try. Especially with your Aunt. You’re going to love her, you know. I do.I really, really do. I think she’s everything.”

“Bucky?” you poked your head out the door and beamed, “dinner’s ready!”

“Coming,” he slowly made his way back over to you. Opening the door wider, you ushered him inside, a hand going to the small of his back as he handed Aurora back over to your sister. He returned to your side, an arm snaking around your waist as he kissed the top of your head, “hi.”

“Hello my love,” you grinned back at him, “how’d it go? She seemed to like you...you seemed to like her…”

“I did,” he agreed, “we had a good talk. Well, I did most of the talking, but she’s a good listener.”

“Hmm,” you snorted in laughter, “you’re something else, Barnes.You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” he leaned in so he could whisper in your ear, “maybe later we could talk. There’s some...things that have been on my mind for some time.”

“Bucky?” you gave him a confused look but he cut you off with a soft kiss to your lips, “everything alright?”

“Yes,” he promised gently, “everything is perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[sugar-petals]

SuperM as Boyfriends Headcanon

↪ caro’s note. extra long version because i miss ‘em. best boys, they’re all bf material to the moon and back ♡

5k words | bullet points

○ warnings ⚠️ 18+, dom/sub play, shibari, female reader, grinding, poly mentions, threesomes, face-sitting, femdom & vanilla, smut and fluff

⌈ ten

— motto: they won’t underestimate me for long.

most of your social environment is gonna be confused by ten at the beginning 

and don’t really get what he’s all about

or think he’s like whatever, some random guy in a tank top

acting peculiar

finding him kind of hard to gauge

some of your family and relatives might even think he’s totally unusual and a sneaky fuckboy making you mad 

they seriously wonder what you see in him

down the line that perception has turned by 180 degrees

as it should

ten becomes more irreplaceable, relatable, beautiful, perfect and impressive the more you know him

he’s not as mysterious and impossibly badass as everyone assumes

his personality is very approachable to you 

and you find him interesting in every aspect, looks to hobbies to background to personal habits

and also opinions because ten is a guy who really thinks stuff through

so you gotta be roughly on the same wavelength 

he likes discussing controversial and complicated stuff a lot for sure

being far wiser than his age suggests 

you are the first to share those things with him until the rest of the world catches up to this gem of a person

spending so much time with you

in the most personal way he can

he takes you to see the floating markets in bangkok, you spend the summer in thailand

wakeboarding and playing badminton

his entire family knows you inside out at some point this shit is serious

it’s very important to him to go back to the roots every now and then

and that you have been around his home city as well

getting to enjoy the area and time together eating the most savory delicacies

renting a boat and paddling you around to the important spots, he can explain any question you have

this kissing is gonna be so romantic 

who needs a vacation in venice when you can go to thailand with none other than ten himself as your ferryman let that sink in

except eating durian there he is, the boyfriend who can do anything!

with seemingly no effort

ten does little kind services of love for you throughout the day

he pours you herbal tea, fixes some furniture (he’s surprisingly good at tinkering), comes home from the bakery with your favorite pastry, does the laundry with your favorite fabric softener

he also goes on a huge shopping spree with you monthly because fashion is key in this household and it’s tremendous fun

you giggle when he puts on oversized shirts deliberately to look funny

everyone in the clothing store will think oh man what an adorable pair

ten will model the living hell out of the entire stock

and buy you the cape you really really want as a birthday present

said item turns out to be your favorite couple accessory

because you can sit next to each other on a bench at the river and wear it

what’s not to love about a portable blanket

of course he will take to instagram and make it such a cool thing, photographies of you wearing really cool coats and jackets

mirror bathroom selfies together as well, with a back hug, the classic

and not just for insta

you snuggle a lot generally

ten is always available for affection

and accepts all PDA

he’s a kitty after all, he loves the warmth of your body more than you know

remember how taemin said ten’s hands are always cold, newsflash not anymore since you stuff them into the pocket of your hoodie whenever you can

and hello sir your paws will be nice and cozy on my waist

or hand in hand when you waltz through your apartment

time for dance is a must

oh my god ten is so good at all of this

although say he’s definitely faster into latin than standard genres

tango argentino, he loves flamenco as well

don’t believe me? ten is a diehard rosalía stan!

vamos

so, no-brainer, expect a lot of dancy stuff 

that escalates into wild, passionate fucking

which probably looks like an aggressive form of couple exercises

you poor sore souls

ten’s lil kitty butt is falling apart from all the “i can handle a bigger one!”-level pegging and you have aching legs all over

favorite position? full nelson

if you ask me ten’s ass is probably so carved out by the end of this you could fit lucas and kai in there from head to toe

this is not for the faint of heart

sex with this guy is extra cardio

and if you’re into that a threesome is gonna go down sooner or later

with our girl lisa

there. i said it

miss manoban in those knee-high boots, grinding her thighs between yours and you finishing off on ten’s face? the fucking hottest thing ever i need a moment wow

i don’t have to tell you how orgasmic this is gonna be

steamy sex life with ten very recommended

⌈ kai

— motto: you’re like a precious rose. i’ll protect you forever.

to be straightforward with you

he is in so heavily in demand it’s madness

to give you an idea of the scale

mark is basically occupied by yuta until the end of time 

but kai has an entire idol fanclub on top of all erigoms

those sharp moves did not go unnoticed

he gets an inkigayo sandwich every other day

jesus christ

if rent-a-sexy-bf.com was a thing kai would be the most requested

his phone would be blowing up with contracts like

and you also have to pass kyungsoo’s vibe check

and taemin’s

the road to being kai’s gf is indeed the way of the samurai

i mean honestly: kim jongin is without a doubt the hardest member to get a date with

this has got to be the most selective man of the entire industry or something

if he likes you he REALLY likes you

and he will be the one showing initiative

because he wants to make it clear he isn’t just spending time out of politeness or something

although it’s pretty logical that if kai was unable to reject someone he would no longer be an idol but a harem husband busy every hour of the day

seoul would be able to found its own village 

kai town

where like 70% of the population is pregnant

but since kai wants to keep on dancing obviously and he wants to lend his heart to only one person 

seoul has to settle with a singular nini family house instead of a kai district

where you and the man himself are a full-fledged household basically since kai’s nieces double as actual kids

if you wanna be a young ass ‘mom but not mom with kids’ and be married to kim kai this is it

does he have a thing for milfs or something

that thought just came to my mind

anyway you’re mommy anyway wink wink

fucking til’ dawn until even his muscles hurt

going raw at the gym together

him cooking the most random food with the infamous waffle maker

cuddling with an army of teddy bears surrounding you

walking the dogs with the sexiest dancer alive 

and the sexiness is only the tip of the iceberg 

we know he’s all-round amazing

kai is the king of figuring out ways to chill out with you anywhere anytime

and yes innocent chilling

...unless you’re in the mood for something else

up to you

anyway

sweet innocent chilling for now... with the stunner... just smooching at best things aren’t going raw or anything

on the couch in the kitchen in the car when it’s parked somewhere in nature

kai takes you very seriously and is a great listener

he’s literally so respectful and open-minded i can’t

he will keep your secrets and stand up for you if it’s ever needed

yes he is extremely caring and invested

kai does not tolerate others being shady towards you

if there’s an instance where you are hurt and unable to assert yourself don’t worry. he knows how to confront others with measure but a firm determination.

kai takes a lot of that responsibility but only to the degree where you are comfortable

i think you get what i mean by that

and he is diplomatic instead of plain patronizing

you have a right to be protected. it means he not only treats you well, but also makes sure your well-being isn’t disturbed in any other way outside of the relationships

outside influences aren’t to be underestimated

and since kai is a godly man you encounter a lot of jealousy from others

a matter he will take into his hands since he knows he’s the reason

standing up for you also means saying no 

to these jealous voices so this is an important boundary he has to draw

that all kinds of hellbent people want to get into his pants and take his stage image too literally is not up to you to fix

kai is there for you to enjoy and love not to defend

that’d be exhausting and beside the point 

kai prevents stress and negativity to come to you

i hope i explained this well he doesn’t do this to be bossed up or make you weak it’s because he wants to make life easier for you

guys being protective will be chalked up as chauvinistic these days. often rightfully so 

but what i mean is that kai support you in all regards so you won’t be at a disadvantage or feel terrible about something

⌈ taeyong

— motto: we’ll take good care. enjoy the pleasure.

he’s the type of boyfriend who will ask you about things he missed out on while he was busy

things um from the internet

while mark literally knows that one by heart already taeyong will ask you things like what the wellerman song is

and you thought it would be something nsfw

i got you fooled

did we forget that the man literally watched nct memes on youtube

taeyong is both even more 18+ than you think but also even more innocent than you think it’s complicated

this man is just hard to describe he’s so different, i mean every person is unique but he’s an original it’s the extra mile you know

anyway

sea shanties

bopping to it all day since he just heard it 

singing it while he prepares dinner based on a youtube recipe video as he often does

he’s the most adorable person ever ever ever

asking you why shanties are back in fashion 

(good question, requires a deeper sociocultural analysis i reckon)

planning to remix one for his soundcloud lmao i kid you not

maybe your favorite shanty 

featuring fast-pace rap and all

creating his own previously unknown phrases and shit like that you know him

palazzo rocco lemon detox flashbacks

he’s hilarious i swear

taeyong will produce his own shanties for you can you imagine

as he says: my happiness is your happiness

watch out he will drop a shanty music video with extra krumping moves

taeyong is a never-ending source of pure crack

prepare to laugh a lot like, a lot lot

how can a man who seemingly has such a serious outlook on life and such a bonkers kinda face be so lighthearted

it’s like he’s peter pan or something

especially since he has to manage like over 20 brats in nct his cutesy behavior towards you as his gf will stand out to you

yeah so to be clear we all know he’s the cute one in the relationship

and guess who wears the pants

that’s always you ma’am don’t deny it

or wait 

not for long actually because they come off um physically

but not metaphorically

because who doesn’t wanna sit on his face tbh

your favorite reserved spot

he loves it

taeyong has such a thing for your body it’s ridiculous

mister lee got a sexy mama

and you have such a thing for the gloriousness that is him

but neither of you will not admit it as openly as other people would think

all there is... is being flustered

baekhyun probably has to play some cupid now and then

and give you some ideas

like gifting taeyong plushies and things like that

baekhyun knows what taeyong is all about so the advice is very welcome

but most things you find out for yourself

by being a little braver with him you know

you walking around naked in the apartment or basically fresh out the shower with nothing but a towel

will shake up taeyong so immensely, he will back himself against a wall without you even pinning him there lmao!

jeez he’s so deep into kinky stuff but easily shook anyway

i quote him again: “born to be cute, i dunno!”

you can imagine the overwhelm when you rub yourself against him like it’s nobody’s business

it’s so much fun to give taeyong a regular horny meltdown not gonna lie

this man was grinding his whole body all over the superm stage and now he’s basically freezing up and drooling

how many denied and ruined orgasms he’s gonna get, so much overstimulation all the way  

you’ll lose count of it

and just how wet you’re gonna be

is a thing for the history books

taeyong isn’t such a big deal in nct for no reason god gave him every talent 

so great sex is obviously in his repertoire

i think you’re gonna break some records for most fucks per week

you know... guys like lucas taemin kai and baekhyun spend more time wooing and teasing and flirting

but taeyong gets down to business

one glance is enough

⌈ lucas

— motto: the hottest couple around.

ah, big boy

you really got this man’s attention

doing nothing much at all really

he probably just saw you walking around talking to friends

carrying an impossibly huge veggie burger munching and enjoying yourself after going on a jog

yeah boy that’s how you catch his eye

they say love begins in the stomach and that is the true meaning

or the nose, your food smells really good, lucas is going crazy, he’s seeing stars and shit

anyway

the towering burger isn’t the only thing he wants

lucas cannot get you out of his mind no matter how much he tries to distract himself 

with more good food, movies, games

fooling around with wayv or the superm maknaes, and working out

he’s admittedly... a little himbo head over himbo heels with you the feels got to him

he’s not gonna say it’s a date he’s just gonna invite you just because

to hang out in the kitchen while taeyong cooks and baekhyun comes up with the idea to play twister

imagine lucas with his long arms and legs bending himself all over the place

fighting with kai who almost crashed his shoulders into taemin who avoided the accident quickly

making you lose a round

obviously lucas will hustle until your team wins

mostly because he’s so tall and baekhyun is so small which is a huge advantage when stacking each other over the map

let’s just face it baekhyun only suggested this game to bite everyone’s butts and to see you have skinship with lucas

which is definitely a successful plan of the leader

yukhei is in paradise 

jumping around his room like an oversized bunny after you went home

don’t lie, you fell hard for him as well he’s just such a presence

emotionally, physically

a gentle but persistent giant

he’ll do anything to make your relationship happen once he knows you’re interested

if there’s someone meant to be a boyfriend it’s gotta be him come on

he will cave in after a while and admit he can’t just forget about you 

not gonna lie

your ex is gonna be shaking in his ratty boots

his poor eyes will literally jop from their unexpecting sockets

when he sees lucas hanging out with you

with his shining blonde hair and tall stature, that perfect shapely body, with great fashion on top of that

looking like your guardian angel

man, xuxi really does

pulling you out of your slump that’s been going on for months

and bringing back smiles and a good time he knows how to do that best

and big big hugs of course

you can imagine how soothing and grounded it feels with such huge arms around you

he will make sure that feeling is always there when you need it

because you deserve that treatment

which means he will come over very very often

yeah get ready for how yukhei is a lot more driven than you think just dial and he will be there

underneath the meme surface is someone very determined who really really wants you

yukhei is chaotic good incarnate but in that area he isn’t messing around

his brain is like: “gotta be with her”

on repeat

he must call you, he literally can’t sleep without tying loose ends together as quickly as possible

no second wasted with this guy, even far down the relationship timeline

i really pity your ex 

i mean someone dating any superm member would drive their former partner completely nuts 

but lucas is a special case

he has that kind of look and aura that makes other guys dig themselves into the ground like wiggling worms or cope by fanboying over him

i don’t wanna make this sound like a competition and yet — congrats on your noodly blondie boyfriend alright

⌈ mark

— motto: two nerds in love.

how to explain this. mark is a perfect balance of a lover, a talker, and a shy bean

with a tendency toward bean

and flicking the bean

you know

cutting right to the chase are we

mark is very invested in pleasing you as good as he can

and defeating his awkwardness

because if we know one thing it’s that he always strives to become better and better like he can’t help it

and isn’t afraid of almost biting off more than he can chew

how many subunits is he part of at this point is it gonna be nct hollywood as well god dangit

back to the point mark doesn’t treat relationships and sex as something static which is a good and rare thing

he does his best and always looks for room to improve

while being very nervous, very bilingual, it takes two languages or more to express what he thinks about you let that sink in

that’s very shaky first date sex while being extremely in love with each other

lucky you

and an afterglow where he plays the guitar for you

that’s so nice 

he can play it while laying down and shit

while singing

not rapping, actual full-fledged serenading

we’ve heard how that sounds in the relay cam

are you dating some kind of teenage heartthrob or something huh

mark will make it very clear he’ll stick around, this bad bitch is here to stay

or actually, he’s a good bitch, don’t misunderstand

mark doesn’t have a lot of edgy in him unless rap is concerned

he’s the kinda guy to get lost in IKEA with 

having a good time 

as often as his schedule permits

you really have to make use of your time together 

this man might as well the busiest idol out there

and you are no different because birds of a feather

you’re both mr. and ms. independent 

out and about very often

so meeting up becomes something special during comeback season

or wait mark always has a comeback going on

which is a double-edged sword but something you both know you signed up for 

which is why you spend a lot of time around NCT dream, 127, and SuperM 

sm’s publicity agents have to work extra hard i’m telling you

a dating rumor is the last thing both of you would need

since you befriend several members you gotta stay on the low as well

but hey the rage of jealous people of the public is nothing compared to the force of nature that is yuta nakamoto

who seriously thinks himself threatened and robbed

in case you are feeling possessive as well...

...you might have to fistfight yuta

to be able to be with mark

who is basically property of osaka at this point

yuta is a scorpio that’s just the way it is

unlike taeyong who wishes his rap buddy the best, yuta kinda wants to be mark’s wingman and see him date, live his best life

but also have mark for himself to fawn over and to adore, to be fascinated by

we get it yuta. bisexual struggles. very understandable

you have to promise in person that mark doesn’t forget about the holy gaming nights with yuta 

which is hilarious since that’s not up to you but mark’s memory

bestie, yuta uses everyone as a scapegoat don’t sweat it too much

regardless you put a weekly reminder on the fridge

so the roaring lion yuta would be pacified

he doesn’t want to lose his sweetheart can you blame him

the ultimate but also most risky solution is obviously inviting yuta for movies 

which will be appreciated but also cause a storm

mark will definitely break a sweat when you start a popcorn war or try to prove who hugs mark the best 

caught in the middle of mayhem is mark lee’s specialty what did you expect

this either ends with murder or a chaotic open relationship down the line

yuta really is attached but who wouldn’t be

it could be worse mark has double the love you know 

⌈ baekhyun

— motto: you wanna know why i’m your candy?

baby tell me are you ridin’?

in fair verona where we lay our scene...

that baekhyun always wants to woo you — his way, which proves to be very interesting to say the least — is never hard to miss

putting in effort is mochi default mode 

no matter what stage of the relationship you’re in

he might as well regularly serenade you under your balcony in the backyard just because

probably singing ‘baby we can stay up’ and wiggling his ass in all directions because he’s a dirty boy gone wild

yeah. nowadays romeo is twerking instead of feuding with tybalt

that’s good for him and everyone involved

you in particular because you get some very racy eye candy

you know how baekhyun is

at least nobody’s around seeing him put on an 18+ show like that

your little guy is one unhinged fella

if it starts pouring he will grind up and down the next lantern and belt out ‘singing in the rain’

you bet he can do some actual pole dance

he’s strong and bendy you know

and loves to gyrate his whole bag of bones like... he wants to hit you with all the body rolls

in the rain

what a freaky man

but hey you wanna stay up for sure 

doesn’t take long until you beckon him to come upstairs

where the only way to alleviate him of his wet clothes—

oh well he has those roger rabbit vibes and you can’t be mad at it

he will play off all his hormonal antics

baekhyun is hilarious

and so perverted, he can keep up with your spicy idea of playing patty-cake don’t worry

how do i know you’re an extra nsfw kinda person?

who else would like baekhyun

he says juicy things all the time

and does juicy things

yes. finally a couple on eye level indeed. 

when baekhyun asks are you ridin’ you ask how hard 

bruh

this is gonna be fun

and remember

beside handing you sacks of money

his priority is always to make you smile

i’m kidding about the bags but

baekhyun is so rich it’ll show in your relationship, but he’s more about the interactions with you rather than the lifestyle

baekhyun didn’t hustle for a bentley he hustled to sing and get out of sm alive alright

financial stability: important

luxury: very nice to have, he can make you the presents you want to have and travel a lot together

but smiles: baekhyun priority

because he so badly wants to know you love him and adore him, he sometimes feels so insecure

of course you do

you always reassure him with your reactions

it’s very important to him don’t underestimate it

baekhyun has always been talking about his ideal type in terms of how he can cheer her up

so even the naughtiest sexy time evenings are gonna be filled with all giggles

anyway other than that your pussy will be dripping

because this guy is as horny as all other members of super m combined

and you have your ways of leaving him tongue-tied and wrists-tied

taemin’s impact

superm isn’t short of bondage supplies we all know that

so yeah. shibari baekhyun is gonna happen

since he does pilates imagine what kinda shapes you can bend this lil guy into

and take some pictures

privé is in trouble 

bondage model baekhyun is bursting onto the scene

you might even run a risque blog that features cropped pictures with him

heh — you think people will recognize him by his body?

nope

first: you only upload HD pictures that aren’t whitewashed

baekhyun is basically never photographed like that

second: who expects baekhyun to be featured on a bdsm blog with his girlfriend

and this is the guy that drives you around in his expensive car with his big black shades on 

well what can i say

nothing is the way it seems

⌈ taemin

— motto: i’ll unfold a whole new world for you.

taemin is cocky, he’s sensual, and: a very smiley person as we know

least boring relationship ever

he will prance toward you whenever he can to involve you in cuddles

touch-starved taemin is a thing

kkoong can tell you about it, he needs kisses and embraces so often

might as well pepper him with it no problem

and put him into your oversized sweaters when he eats ice cream on the sofa, watching movies, and you brush his ever-growing hair

he’s smol he’s gonna fit into them don’t worry

and on the other hand he likes a rough and tough girl who thinks of him like a boy toy

who acts tsundere or like his bodyguard

working out almost daily to the point of sweat all over

a gal probably able to pretzel minho lucas and chanyeol into one giant bundle

taemin truly has the taste of a divo

multi-layered as always

so you couldn’t say the relationship is always the same in sentiment, the vibe of the dynamic could be different every day

we love a complex man

what would be volatile to others is actually an advantage up close

because taemin understands every difficult facet of himself and his partner 

even if those facets might be contradictory

or something that’s felt shameful about

he will accept and listen anyway

the same goes for getting what drives you

taemin is like a walking psychology velvet couch with fancy swirls as arm rests

point is he isn’t fooled by the surface of the world

he knows what has to be known

which also means your looks aren’t the part he prioritizes

and not even outward personality and habit is what he’s drawn to

it’s the mentality and values underneath

that’s true compatibility to him and he can feel it

he’s really really smart

and also finds it important that you get along with shinee and superm, that you think they’re nice to be around and vice versa

especially kai as taemin’s absolute bearly bestie. if kai thinks you’re shady and you don’t like kai either

or if you’re permanently super awkward and taemin’s moodmaking doesn’t help

we have a problem

but fair enough

kai and taemin are basically one soul at this point so if taemin likes you jongin does anyway 

bff telepathy

in fact jongin was probably the one introducing you to taemin lmao!

because he knows you go well together instinctively and he is correct

so not to worry then

and it’s good on taemin to think longterm and not see you as a person outside of social interaction y’know

cough cough he thinks about marriage, you might be ms. lee one day

here he goes again taemin is just very mature seeing you as well-rounded in every aspect of life

without letting his dick make the important decisions at the detriment of making this a relationship of two lives not just two bodies only

but obviously don’t assume taemin is no horny devil. we all know he dreams of the freakiest scenarios and fantasies in this whole group

going kinda crazy about the thought of making you cum which he always wants to try with new methods

which occupies his mind more than a big bowl of super spicy noodles which is taemin’s favorite meal so

at the same time taemin junior is definitely the same clingy attention whore as his sparkly owner

limp wrists from all the handjobs on your side

and very swollen lips from giving all that head on his side

this is gonna be interesting

he puts the 6v6 in 69

equals 69v69 am i right

but i’m serious that’s gonna be a lot of oral action

you definitely ask each other about having sex very often, daily if you have the time and find a nice spot

and how on earth do both of you keep your hands off each other sleeping in one bed

taemin is touchy as hell with no shyness, and you squish squeeze and grope this guy like the mochi he is

ah when things go both ways

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[kaashikuroo]

Comforting him after a bad day- Haikyuu Headcannons

Character: Suna

Genre: Fluff, reverse comfort (a bit if angst)

Warnings: non

Part 1: Kageyama and Kuroo | Part 2: Bokuto and Akaashi

MASTERLIST

Requests? Send ‘em here!

Suna:

This boi is done with his life at this point.

He was already a really closed off person, adding a bad day to that just made him want to disappear.

But he knew he could always come home to you.

He opened the door as he stepped inside and took off his sports bag.

You were seated at the couch, looking at his depressed state.

“Welcome home, Rin.” You got up to take care of his bag as he took off his shoes.

It was late. 10 p.m to be exact.

“Long day?” You asked him, putting his bag away.

He just hummed.

“Wait here. I’ll draw you a bath.”

Just as you said, he sat down on the couch. He began to think about how much you have to endure for him. He was really thankful but he came off as cold and closed off.

After a while, you came back and tld him to go in.

You decided to warm up his dinner (cuz he came home late).

You guys didn’t talk much over dinner. You figured he had a hard day and didn’t want to be pestered while he was eating.

You decided to ask him what was wrong while getting ready for bed.

“How was your day, Rin?”

“Huh? Could be way better.”

“Anything happened?”

Your conversations were normally short. Not that any of you minded.

“Not…really.”

You decided not to pry any further.

“Well then, we should get going to bed.”

—

It’s been a few days since that incident. Suna started coming home a bit earlier. He started to initiate conversations more often. He started helping you out with your work, almost taking over all your work.

This was becoming really weird for you to witness. Because- Suna- the person who hated doing a lot of work started showing enthusiasm.

The thing that threw you off the most was the fact that he started smiling a lot more, but those smiles always looked fake.

It’s like he was putting on a facade for you.

“Hey, Rin?”

“Yes, darling?”

You cringed at the sweet nickname. Mostly because he never called you that and it was super cheesy.

“Did something happen these past few days?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sugarplum.” He said, kissing your cheek. “What makes you think so?”

“You’re acting weird.” You eyed him closely as you saw him put on that fake smile again.

“It’s fake.”

“Huh?” He looked at you, confused.

“If you’re not feeling happy you don’t have to smile, Suna.”

His smile immediately dropped.

“How-”

“Your habits changed drastically. Mind telling me what happened?”

He took a deep breath and sat down. You did the same.

“A friend..He told me if I continue to behave like I normally do, everyone I have presently will leave me.” He buried his face in his hands.

“Aren’t we with you because of the way you are?” You were genuinely confused.

You could see him shake a little, trying not to break down.

“Rin…” You pulled him into your embrace.

“It’s okay. We’re not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere.”

He started sobbing on your shoulder.

“You don’t know how much that means to me. Please…Please don’t l-leave me.”

Your heart is now officially broken into a million pieces.

“Rin.. I’d never dream of it.” You rubbed circles on his back, soothingly.

“Now after we’re done here, you’re going to turn back into that Suna Rintarō who I fell in love with. Kay?”

He nodded.

“Anything for my baby.” He kissed the nape of your neck.

and the day after he was back to recording the twin’s fights 🥴📸

[pagesoflauren]

Money’s Worth - You’re Mine

soft husband!Ransom Drysdale x reader

Summary: Starting 2021 answering the question I got asked the most in 2020: “How will the reader react to learning that Ransom hooked up with someone when she was away for Christmas?”

A/N: When y’all filled out this poll, there was a 100% yes answer for a spinoff for The Highest Bidder. Well, here it is: Money’s Worth. In which Ransom is getting $50,000+ worth of experiences with his wife and child(ren). If you have more ideas, don’t be shy, drop ‘em in my ask box! I’ll update this series from time to time. 

If you were tagged in Highest Bidder, I automatically tagged you in this. If you’d like to be removed, let me know! My feelings won’t be hurt, I promise ❤️

Also, I’m sorry if your name is Amanda 🥴

Warnings: smut, swearing, jealousy, angst, daddy!kink

The Highest Bidder Masterlist

Money’s Worth Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Darling, can you go over to the next aisle and get a couple boxes of pasta?” 

Ransom nods, even though you’re too engrossed in looking at the differences between chickpea-based and gluten-based pasta. 

His son is awake, wide eyes looking around at brightly colored food packages and fluorescent lights with a pacifier in his mouth. From what Ransom recalls of tales from when he was a baby, Harlan Jr. is more like you. Quietly observing, not kicking up too much of a fuss. 

Pinching the baby’s nose gently and coaxing a small giggle out of him, Ransom ventures over to the next aisle to find the pasta you like. 

A sharp gasp and an obnoxious “oh my God,” draws his attention. When he looks up and finds the source of the voice, his stomach gurgles with dread and annoyance. 

“All the times I’ve been here, I’ve never seen you,” she says. “What are you up to? Disappointing more girls in bed?”

Ransom weighs his options in his head. He could dig low, reminding her of all the times she was actually begging for him, or he could take the high ground, grab the pasta, and ignore her. 

He does the latter, though makes the mistake of using his left hand to do so.

“Is that a wedding band?” she scoffs. 

“Yeah, it is--” 

“Oh, Ransom, don’t get that one, we want the bigger noodles.” 

Shutting his eyes, Ransom shouts all the swear words he can think of in his mind. This is such bad timing! 

“No fucking way,” Rebecca--or is it Veronica?--scoffs. 

“Hi,” Ransom sees you give a sickeningly sweet smile and he wants to disappear into the shelves. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall ever meeting you.” 

“I’m Amanda.” 

Wow. Completely different name than the ones his mind was supplying. 

“Your husband and I know each other pretty well.” 

He can see the gears turning in your head, analyzing the situation. 

“Quite frankly, I’m not surprised about the little one. I’m sure he did the same thing to you as he did to me, just finished and decided he was done without fully getting the job done!”

You’re visibly taken aback. “I’m sorry?” 

“Oh, we just hooked up casually like, two years ago? I can’t really remember, it was during Christmas though. Hadn’t heard from him in a while and he mentioned being lonely and I figured ‘Why not?’”

“Two years ago?” you echo, looking at her, then at Ransom. 

“It was casual, I left right after,” he points out, 

“Oh, were you two together then? I’m so sorry--”

“You know what, Veronica, just get your stupid pasta or rice or whatever the fuck you’re here for and leave me and my wife in peace! Don’t you have better shit to do?!”

“It’s Amanda.”

“I don’t care.” 

Rolling her eyes, she leaves, turning on her heel and exiting the aisle. 

Ransom turns back to you and doesn’t like the thoughtful look on your face. You don’t look at him or Harlan, just at the contents in your cart. 

“Hey, don’t let whatever she said get to you. You know I love you,” he reaches for you, fingertip just grazing your cheek and you cringe away from him. 

“Just put the pasta in the cart and let’s go.” 

You’ve snapped at him before to remind him to stop completely at intersections or double check the temperature of Harlan’s bottle. You’ve never snapped at him that way, in irritation as if you can’t stand him. 

He recoils, drawing his touch away from you. “Well, just...let me get the right one.” 

“Ransom,” you deadpan, “I wanna go home. Just put the pasta in the cart and let’s. go.” 

He does as you say, carefully placing the boxes atop the other items. 

You don’t speak to him as you check out and sit in the backseat with Harlan to make sure he’s okay as he drives the three of you home. His little eyelids drop closed, completely calm despite the palpable tension between the two of you. 

Once at home, Ransom takes care of the groceries while you bring Harlan upstairs to his crib so he can continue to sleep. Just as you get him settled, you hear your husband pipe up. 

“So, can we talk about what happened at the grocery store?”

You sigh, straightening up. You cross your arms as you turn to face him. “When was the last time you saw her?” 

“When you were on winter break a few months after you had just moved in.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, a whirlpool of emotions spinning around in your chest. 

You’re angry and hurt, but you don’t know why. The two of you were just starting your sugar arrangement and it wasn’t anything deeper than that. There weren’t any feelings on your end until the following spring. 

“It wasn’t anything, it was just some hook up. She was just being a bitch because I left--”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” you interrupt him. 

You had long reconciled Ransom’s past and never held it against him. But you just cannot pin the exact reason why this revelation bothers you. 

“Look, I’m still figuring out things going on in my head. And I don’t really...I don’t really want to see you right now.” 

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” he argues, “We weren’t anything. We only became a thing in July.” 

“Really?” you wonder. You weren’t going to bring this up, but it feels fair in order to get him to understand your perspective. “I had a crush on someone from my cohort.” You watch his expression shift from annoyed to surprised. “I kissed him once. In November, after I moved in with you. But it didn’t work out because I was living with you, so we decided to not do anything about it.” 

You can see the visible tinge of red on his neck. “Are you saying that just to get at me?”

“It’s the truth,” you say. “Does it bother you?” 

You can see him setting his jaw as he takes in the information. 

“But we weren’t anything, right?” you remind him of the words he spoke just minutes before. 

Ransom doesn’t say anything. He turns away and walks down the hall. You hear him going down the stairs and then the door to his office slams. 

You check on Harlan, he’s still sound asleep. Slightly relieved, you move into your bedroom and sit on the mattress. 

Ransom lets out a long-winded groan when he deletes the sentence he’s been working on for the fifty-second time in twenty minutes. 

He feels odd knowing you liked someone when you were living with him, just as the seeds of his feelings were being planted. He’s taken pride in the fact that he was the only one to have you, but turns out your heart was a better prize and that wasn’t his completely. 

He doesn’t doubt you love him and he’s certain he never has to worry about sharing you ever again, but it still bothers him. 

He scrubs his hands over his face and rubs the back of his neck. 

He remembers fights between his parents never being resolved, which resulted in their marriage slowly disintegrating into a financial arrangement than a romantic relationship. 

He knows you late at night when you’re both hungry; knows you pregnant and crying over hermit crabs while watching nature documentaries; knows you between his arms and keeping him warm, making him feel safe and loved when he felt he didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t want this to turn into anything close to the example of marriage he saw growing up. 

Shutting his laptop, he gets up and marches to the door. When he yanks it open, you’re standing there. 

“What are you doing?” 

You look caught, as if you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be. “I...I wanted to talk. Unless you don’t want to.”

You begin to leave and he grabs your arm. “No, let’s talk.” 

Stepping into the room feels reminiscent of walking into his office at the publishing house for the first time. You’re not comfortable entering this territory. 

Hugging your arms around your middle, making yourself look as small as you feel, you decide to just be forward. Your words come out sheepishly, “I just...I didn’t like knowing the moment I was gone, you went out and replaced me. Even if we didn’t have an exclusive label. And, I just thought, like, I realize it doesn’t matter because we’re married. And like you said, I know you love me. But, I don’t know. Just didn’t sit right with me.” 

Ransom sighs, shaking his head. “I wasn’t replacing you or anything like that. I...I saw a change in myself from just having you with me for a few months. But I thought you’d leave as soon as you got the opportunity,” he uses a large sweeping gesture as if he’s picturing you leaving all over again. “And I’d…” he hesitates, hand up by his head before his arm goes slack, “be back to my shitty normal self.” 

It’s different now with the explanation, and you wish you had been in the mindset to listen to him earlier instead of hurt him.

“And I get it. Knowing you had a crush on some guy doesn’t sit right with me either. I just,” he looks up and distantly, “I wonder what he had. What made you like him but then you were fine with nothing happening and then you started liking me?” 

“Neither of us were ready for a relationship at the time. We had just started and our first semester was crazy.” You take your turn to explain. “And feelings just come and go sometimes. I saw him again in February and it just...wasn’t there.” 

He takes in your strikingly simpler explanation, understanding your reference to fleeting feelings that are gone almost as quickly as they appear. 

“I’m sorry, Ransom. I shouldn’t have said anything about that. It was so stupid and it really didn’t mean anything--”

“Neither did Amanda.” 

“I…” you trail off, not knowing what to say. 

“I wasn’t being very understanding earlier when you first said it bothered you. You were just trying to get me to know your side of things.” 

“Doesn’t make it right,” you counter. “I really am so sorry.” 

Ransom smiles and laughs to himself. He still doesn’t know how to accept an apology. He sighs, reaching for you. “How long do you think junior will be asleep?” 

“Could be an hour, maybe two,” you answer as he draws you closer with a hand around your waist. 

“Think that’s plenty of time for us to make it up to each other.”

“Technically I need to make it up to you,” you correct him as you take his hand. “And I know how I want to.” 

You lead him back around his desk, ushering him to sit in his chair. It’s large with dark blue velvet, providing enough room for you too and straddle his lap. 

You dive for his mouth, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. 

His left hand comes to cradle your jaw, keeping your lips locked onto his, while his right hand drifts down your back to cup your bottom. 

You grind your core against his, smiling when you feel his hips jut up to yours. Tilting your head you give a tentative lick into his mouth. He opens up, bringing his tongue in to play with yours. 

It reminds you of how it was when it started; being shy  and letting him take the lead. You haven’t fallen into this cloudy headspace in a long time, but it feels so good that when you pull back and gasp the word “daddy,” it feels so natural. 

Ransom, on the other hand, is taken aback. He’s gotten used to you calling him “darling” or other terms of endearment. Hearing you call him that awakens something that had long gone into hibernation; and he wasn’t sure if it would ever see the light of day again. 

But like you, he slips into the space, creating a firm grip on your ass as a smirk appears on his face. 

“Wanna call me ‘daddy,’ baby? Hm?” he taunts. Your eyes are wide and doey, feigning innocence when he knows you’re far from it now. “Well, guess we can do that. We’ll make up for that night I wasted on someone else.” 

He watches your brows furrow and eyes squint in anger. Your hands slide into his hair, fingers tightening in the tresses. It creates a pull on his scalp, something he enjoys. “You’re mine, daddy,” you whisper just before your lips are on his again, kissing him harder than before, certain to bruise. 

You pull away and lean down to nip at his neck, hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You pop the button and undo the zipper unceremoniously. 

You remove yourself from his lap only to kneel between his legs on the carpet, pulling his jeans down to his knees. His boxers are quick to follow, revealing his hardening member. You grasp it, giving it a few squeezes and tugs the way you know he likes, watching his head loll back against the back of his chair. 

“This is mine, too,” you say. 

“Yeah?” he pants, looking down at you. A hand grazes through your hair, stopping at the back of your head. “My cock only belongs to you?” 

You nod, working him with more determination. 

“Then take it, baby.” 

You practically lunge for it, leaning forward to take him into your mouth, lips spreading to accommodate his girth. 

You’re satisfied with the sound Ransom makes, something between pained and blissful. He eggs you on, gathering your hair into a ponytail secured with his hand as he guides you to take more and withdraw in rhythm. 

You want him to finish in your mouth, but he pulls you off him and makes to lift you back onto his lap. You stand, already shimmying out of your bottoms. 

Straddling him again, you focus your attention down to poise yourself just above the head of him. 

He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and makes you look at him before crashing his lips on yours once more. 

“Take what’s yours, baby. It’ll always be yours,” he whispers. 

You sink down, crying out at the feeling of him within you. The doctor had just given you the green light to resume sex as normal after Harlan’s birth weeks ago, but you haven’t been able to find a lot of time to tangle with each other without your baby or Ransom’s book needing attention. 

Ransom appears to have an equally hazy feeling, looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes. You straighten up slightly until just the tip of him is in and lower yourself again. 

It’s so much for the both of you that his hands come to your waist and he guides your pace. “Slow,” he instructs you. 

You obey, finding a steady pattern as you build a climax for the both of you. Coaxing your hips the slightest bit forward, Ransom sinks all the way to reach that spot within you that makes you see stars. 

“Like that, baby?” he taunts you again, moving your hips up and down his length. “Tell daddy.” 

“Yes,” you gasp, “Just like that, daddy.” 

He works you until you’re nearing your end, tightening and pulsing around him to bring on his orgasm as well. Just as you’re about to fall over the edge, he taps below your eyes, a silent request for you to look at him. 

Your eyes meet his and he verbalizes exactly what he’s thinking. “I’m yours,” he pants, “I’m yours, my baby, my sunshine.” You fall forward and kiss him, letting him swallow your moans and whines. “Come for me, let me show you.” 

Your body weakens in his grasp, leaning onto him for support. Your movements falter and he makes up for them, jutting his hips up until he’s finishing within you. 

You gasp at the warmth that blooms in your stomach, feeling like gravity is failing but it’s okay; Ransom’s holding onto you, keeping you grounded. 

He holds you tightly as you breathe heavily, trying to recover your strength. You sigh and your arms wrap around his shoulders. You hear him chuckle and lean back. 

“We should’ve thought this through better,” he smiles, “We gotta get upstairs and clean up.” 

You moan your disappointment. “M’tired. Can’t we just stay here a bit?” 

Moving your hair out of your face, he kisses your exposed forehead. “Okay, sunshine,” he agrees. “Just a few minutes.” 

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[heart-of-gold-outlaw]

Welcome Home | Chapter Ten: Still Breathing

Finally—finally—, the day comes to rescue Sean. You honestly don’t know what to expect. Most of the others in camp aren’t much help, referring to Sean with a roll of their eyes and something along the lines of: “half a mind to let the bounty hunters keep him.”

They should be saying that about Micah, you think to yourself as you watch Charles and Arthur saddle their horses. Maybe then Dutch’ll kick him out.

Still, Sean is a bit of a wildcard to you. You won’t figure out what he’s really like until you meet him, and until then, you decide to keep an open mind. Worst case scenario? He’s Micah’s long-lost brother. Best case scenario? He’s… well. Maybe it’s best not to think about all the things he could be. Keep yourself on your toes.

You sit on a tree stump while the boys get ready. Taima is an absolute beauty of a horse, and you can tell by the way Charles dotes on her that she’s got a good life. Briefly, thoughts of having a horse of your own cross your mind. That appaloosa gelding is probably still for sale in Valentine. Maybe if you can get enough money, you can buy him.

Arthur and Charles take their sweet time packing more than enough ammo, which means you quickly get bored. Every scratchy detail on the tree stump bothers you, too. Hopping to your feet, you decide to get some chores done. Everyone’s been so preoccupied with the big upcoming rescue, they’ve neglected some of the finer details in camp.

The ax is in its usual spot, surrounded by whole logs that need to be chopped. You grab ahold of the handle. It feels lighter than it used to, and you realize you’re getting stronger.

Goodbye noodle arms, you think as you bring the ax down on to the first log. You don’t quite split it, but it’s getting closer than ever. And hello Jack Lumber.

A few chops in, you feel the muscles in the back of your neck tense. Someone’s behind you, and you’re not quite sure who. But soon enough, a low, sinister chuckle reaches your ears. Micah.

“Well,” he says. “Looks like the camp nuisance is finally doing some work.”

You slowly count to three before turning around. Micah stands by you, a little too close for your liking, and he’s got a smirk on his face that twists your gut something awful. You’ve started wearing a gun belt, and the hand that isn’t holding the ax inadvertently twitches toward your revolver.

“You know something, Y/N?” He takes a step toward you. “I think you’re starting to wear out your welcome.”

Fire ignites in your chest. No. No. Micah doesn’t get to do this, try and make you second-guess yourself and your place in the gang—especially not after you’ve just started feeling comfortable.

“Back off, you useless mineral,” you hiss.

Micah’s lips curl into a snarl as he takes another step toward you. This one feels infinitely more threatening, and you barely keep yourself from taking a step back. You’ll be damned if Micah wins this fight.

“Take another step,” you warn, “and I’ll jump rope with your intestines.”

Honestly, you don’t really expect him to feel threatened, but the odd choice in words is enough to throw him off. You can see him trying to process everything you said, which gives you enough time to throw the ax down and skedaddle.

Your heart thuds frantically in your chest as you hurry to Arthur and Charles. Micah won’t try anything if you’re with them; that much, you know for sure.

“We ready to go?” You ask as nonchalantly as you can. “If I chop one more piece of wood, I’ll have to start wearing flannel.”

Charles looks confused at “flannel,” but Arthur frowns as he glances over at the chopping block. His expression hardens when he sees Micah storming away.

“Micah giving you trouble?” He asks, a hint of something dangerous in his voice.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” You go to lean against the hitching post, miss, and almost topple over. Face burning, you settle for folding your arms over your chest.

Arthur and Charles exchange looks.

“If he tries anything,” Charles tells you, calm and steady, “let us know. We’ll take care of it.”

We’ll take care of it. How a statement so simple and so general can sound that dangerous, you’ll never know. You wordlessly nod, not knowing how to respond.

Charles leaves, then, to go saddle Taima. You look to Arthur, ready to follow him to Florence, who’s already tacked up and ready. But he doesn’t move.

“Micah been buggin’ you a lot?”

You shake your head. “Not really. I mean, he gave me a hard time when I was cleaning up Pearson’s wagon a while ago, but Hosea scared him off.”

Arthur turns to look at you. “And today?”

“Oh.” You think back to the confrontation. “Well, he called me the ‘camp nuisance’ and said I was starting to wear out my welcome.”

A glint of fury flashes through Arthur’s eyes as he throws a glare in Micah’s general direction. You shiver involuntarily. Thank goodness you’re not on a certain cowboy’s bad side.

“I’ve been called worse, to be honest,” you say with a shrug, and smile slightly when Arthur looks at you again. “I’m kinda used to it.”

He gives you a troubled frown instead of sharing your nonchalance. Confused, you feel your smile waver a little.

“What?” You ask.

“You…” Arthur begins, trails off, then continues: “You know it ain’t true, right?”

“What isn’t?”

“The part about being a nuisance. You ain’t wearing out your welcome, either.”

Something pulls at your heart, something strong, and you’re suddenly at a loss for words. You’ve had so many doors slammed in your face, so many people come and go, never staying, never even wanting to stay… And you couldn’t do anything but watch them leave.

“Oh,” is all you manage around a tight throat.

Arthur looks at you some more. His eyes are soft now, soft and full of what you think is understanding. He reaches out, maybe to put a hand on your shoulder, but apparently thinks better of it and instead motions for you to follow him. You trail a little behind as he walks toward Florence. You ain’t wearing out your welcome, either. Did… did Arthur really mean that? Does that mean the rest of the gang, minus Micah, feels the same way? You can’t help but shake your head in wonder. You don’t think you’ll ever understand these people.

Once you catch up, Arthur easily swings himself on top of Florence, then hauls you into the saddle behind him. You’re starting to get used to horseback. Florence may be absolutely massive, but you don’t feel so unsteady anymore. In fact, you might actually like riding.

“We’re meeting up with Javier just outside of Blackwater,” Charles says as he brings Taima over. “Trelawney thinks the bounty hunters will bring Sean upriver.”

Arthur nods and sets a steady trot out of camp. “Good. We can probably cut ‘em off when they reach the border. I think there’s a canyon that’ll give us some decent cover.”

“Any luck, we’ll take them by surprise.” Charles urges Taima into a canter, which Florence matches. “How many do you think there’ll be?”

“For Sean?” Arthur laughs, and you try not to look too enamored. “Any pair of fools could handle him. But there’ll be a lot of ‘em, no doubt.”

Charles hums in thought, but doesn’t say anything else. Much of the ride passes in comfortable silence. Although you want to focus on admiring the scenery and marvel at the lack of, well, everything, you find yourself thinking about the upcoming fight. You may not know a lot about the past, but you’ve seen enough Westerns to know bounty hunters always put up a hell of a fight. That, and they always keep coming right when you think you’ve killed them all.

Your revolver suddenly feels heavy in its holster. You bite your lip, a little unsure. Yes, you’ve used it once at Six Point Cabin, and yes, you’ve managed to hit a few bottles, but those were honestly lucky shots. And neither of them were shooting back.

Bounty hunters, though? Different story. For as much bravado as you showed Dutch during his little tirade, you have to admit that you’re a little nervous. It’ll be your first real gunfight. You’ll have Arthur and Charles looking out for you, but you can’t help the anxiety knotting deep in your gut.

If I die, I die, you think. No going back now.

///

Conversation lags for the remainder of the ride. Eventually, after crossing a small river, you’re in what Arthur tells you is West Elizabeth. It looks… well, it looks like a perfect snapshot of a history textbook. Rolling hills and open land, bison… it’s absolutely stunning.

Off in the distance, you see two people looking over the edge of a cliff. You recognize Javier, but you don’t recognize the other man, with his mustache and mischievous eyes. He smiles when he sees Arthur and Charles, then peers at you curiously.

“And who might this be?” He asks as Arthur dismounts, leaving you alone atop Florence.

Your brain goes into a blue screen of death, and before you know what you’re doing, you say: “My name is an enigma and holds all the secrets of the universe.”

“That would be Y/N,” Arthur says, exasperated. He helps you down and grabs his rifle from the saddle. “Y/N, this is Josiah Trelawney.”

Trelawney bows with a flourish. “At your service, my dear.”

You instantly decide you like him. Waving hello to Javier, you approach the edge of the cliff, crouching low like everyone else.

“Sean?” Arthur asks as he looks down the scope of his rifle.

“I think he’s in that boat over there.” Javier gestures to a small vessel upriver. “Think they’re docking to take him further inland.”

Arthur turns the scope, then gives a hum of confirmation. “That’s him alright. Giving those bounty hunters hell.”

Trelawney nods and rises before mounting his horse. Setting a slow walk, he motions for everyone to follow him. Arthur helps you on to Florence, and then you’re off once more.

“If we do this right,” Trelawney says, “we can cut them off. Remember: we’re just innocent folk out for a ride on the trail. Let’s not draw their attention just yet.”

The five of you ride toward a canyon. Ahead, you can see the boat docked at the shore, along with several well-armed, intimidating bounty hunters standing guard. They don’t look like they’re in much of a mood to negotiate. In fact, they look ready to shoot on sight.

Everyone takes cover around the bend. Trelawney, odd man that he is, seems more preoccupied with his coat than the problem at hand.

“Now ain’t the time for a fashion statement,” Arthur drawls.

“Au contraire, my dear fellow,” Trelawney says with a smile. “Bounty hunters are even more gullible than hillbillies. I have to look the part if I’m going to make the proper distraction.”

Then, before any of you can say a word otherwise, Trelawney strides confidently toward the bounty hunters. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you just know he’s spinning a tale bigger than the Grizzlies. He waves his arms in a grandiose gesture. In another situation, you would have mistaken it for part of the act. But now, along with Arthur, Charles, and Javier, you recognize it for what it is: a signal.

Arthur fires a quick shot, striking one of the bounty hunters between the eyes. From there, it’s chaos. All you can hear is the sound of gunfire and shouting. You take cover behind a rock, firing your revolver without really trying to hit anything. You don’t know if any of your bullets find their marks. Honestly? Probably not.

“Let’s push up on ‘em,” Arthur commands.

You stick close by him as you make your way up the canyon. The bounty hunters have regrouped by now, which lets them put up more of a fight. A bullet whizzes by your ear—too close for you to ignore—and you yelp and duck further into cover.

Arthur quickly lays down some cover fire, then hauls you up and pulls you behind a larger rock. You don’t even have time to tell him thank you. The firefight picks up again, bullets flying, ricocheting, sometimes hitting their targets, sometimes hitting the canyon walls. It takes nearly all your self-control to keep a level head.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Javier reloading his guns, but also just barely peeking out of cover. You look up the canyon trail. There, off in the distance, half-hidden by gun smoke and dust, you can just barely make out the silhouette of a bounty hunter—and he’s aiming right at Javier.

You steel yourself. You’re not some useless coward who needs to be protected. You’re a member of the Van Der Linde Gang—an outlaw. And one of your own is in danger.

Your anxiety flees, replaced by determination. Edging ever-so-slightly out of cover, you fire off a shot toward the bounty hunter, then duck back behind the boulder. A pained yell tells you that you hit your mark, and it’s followed by silence.

Javier looks at the fallen bounty hunter, then at you. He nods his head in thanks. Smiling, you tip your fingers in a mock-salute, then follow Arthur as he pushes further up the canyon.

It doesn’t take long for your little group to reach a clearing. Right away, you see someone dangling upside down from a tree. He’s also surrounded by vicious-looking men who you would honestly rather avoid.

Well,you think to yourself. That must be Sean.

The bounty hunters have been expecting you, and they fire several warning shots into the tree line. You duck behind the trunk of a massive pine. To your right, you see Arthur considering the situation, trying to figure out the best approach. On your left, Javier and Charles wait on a signal. You don’t know what happened to Trelawney, but you think he’s alright.

“If we can get around them,” Arthur eventually says, “we can come at them from all sides.”

Javier grins. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Charles gives him a look. “Only the fish can shoot back.”

Arthur nods, then looks back toward the clearing. “Someone’s gotta get to Sean quick as they can. I got a feeling he’s gonna be bait.”

“I’ll do it,” you tell him. “There’s enough cover behind that tree he’s tied up in. I’ll be fine.”

For a long, long moment, Arthur looks uncertain. But when you give him a pleading look, silently begging him to let you prove yourself, he sighs and folds the cards.

“Alright,” he agrees. “Wait until you got a clear opening, then go for it.”

Everyone heads off in opposite directions, leaving you to prepare yourself for the sprint of the century. One by one, the boys shoot the bounty hunters, hitting each with impeccable aim. Then, almost before you’re ready, you spy the perfect opportunity.

Making a beeline for Sean, you dive behind the tree just as the bullets start flying again. You sit there for a few seconds, catching your breath. You can’t believe you’re still alive. All that time in open space, and not a single scratch on you.

“It’s over!” You hear one of the bounty hunters shout.

He sounds dangerously close to you. Peeking around the tree, you see him standing not a foot away, pointing his rifle at Sean.

Shit.

You duck back into hiding before you’re spotted. This is exactly what you didn’twant to happen, and it happened anyway. Wracking your brain for ideas, you look around for anything that could be of use.

Think think think think think think—

There’s a corpse not too far from you, and you spy a knife on its belt. Moving purely on instinct and adrenaline, you snatch it from its sheath, turn back to the bounty hunter, and shove it through his throat right in the middle of his next sentence. He stays on his feet for maybe a second longer, then collapses.

You slowly back away from him. Dimly, you realize that the fire fight is over, that everyone else is okay, but you can’t bring yourself to focus on that. All you can do is stare at the body on the ground… the man you just killed.

“You alright there, friend?” Sean asks, still upside down.

“Uh,” your voice sounds far away to your own ears, “yeah. I’m fine.”

After that, you have maybe five seconds before your stomach lurches. Doubling over, you heave violently for a while before coughing, spitting out the taste in your mouth, and wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“Hiya Sean. I’m Y/N.”

//

Accompanying Music: Still Breathing | Green Day

Ko-Fi

[winterscaptain]

three’s company.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: and here we are! the final installment of the ajf 100 arc. this takes place right after mosley lane in season five, and from here on i promise we’ll see some happier days :) i can’t thank you all enough for coming on this adventure with me, as hard and fraught as it was. 

an ajf fic arc that happily stands on its own! (the pieces stand alright on their own as well, for the most part!) one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

words: 1.6k warnings: none!

summary: “let us not burden our remembrances with a heaviness that's gone.” - william shakespeare, the tempest

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“You’d never believe it, Hales. The sass on your kid these days is unreal.” A laugh leaves you as you lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “He pulled one right out of your book the other day with Aaron when he told him it was time to come in out of the snow...” 

It’s just one of those Saturdays where you needed to talk to her. Not for any particular reason, but just knowing that if this was any other timeline, the two of you would sit out in the breakfast nook in the big house, watching the snow fall and the sun set as the February evening wore on. 

There’s a crunch of snow under day-off boots behind you, but you ignore him and continue talking, just as you would if she were here. 

“We miss you. I think the weirdest thing so far was skipping your Christmas present. Had it all wrapped and everything and then I remembered you wouldn’t be there.” You look up, taking a little breath. “Had a good cry about that one.” 

“It is getting better though, all things considered…” You trail off, not sure what to say. Sharing silence with a headstone is a little less companionable than the alternative. 

It wasn’t a lie, though. The grief didn’t overwhelm you now like it did those first weeks. It sometimes clocked you at the oddest of times, drawing a few tears (or more than a few) or a little smile. 

Sometimes, both. 

You huff a little laugh to yourself. “We had a really good case outcome last week. Found three kids who’d been missing, got them all back to their parents. It was just one of those that reminded us why we do it, you know?”

Aaron sits beside you without a word. 

“And you’d be proud of Aaron, Haley. He’s saddling the rest of us with the paperwork and going home early, most nights. It’s kind of impressive. Though, I know it’ll wear off and he’ll be back on his bullshit soon enough.” 

There’s a snort from beside you, and you finally acknowledge him. 

“Tell me it isn’t true and I’ll take it back,” you say, looking over at him.

He shrugs. “Can’t. But then again, you’d never lie to Haley and you’d never lie to the dead, so we’re two for two, there.”

You smile at him for a moment, gesturing vaguely to the headstone. “We were just catching up.”

“Of course. I thought it would be one of those days.”

“Where’s the kiddo?” You look over your shoulder, halfway expecting Jack to be playing somewhere in the snow. 

“Helping Jess with dinner.” He addresses Haley’s headstone. “Hear that, Hales? Your son is helping with dinner, now.”

You both pause, acknowledging the laughter you know you’d get if she were here. 

Looking over at him, you wryly note, “Yeah, see, Jack might be helping with dinner, but you still aren’t. What’s your excuse?”

“I have been sent to bring you to the apartment for dinner by request of my son and my sister.”

You tut at him with a little smile “Nice to see Jess has been promoted.”

He rolls his eyes. 

+++

The first time the entire team gathers at Dave’s after the New Year is a refreshing return to something that feels halfway normal.

You’ve got Henry in your lap so JJ can actually eat something. He’s messing around with one of the rubik’s-cube-like toys Spencer got him for Christmas. To everyone’s delight, the novelty of them has yet to wear off and they’ve saved the entire Jareau-La Montagne household a couple of meltdowns. 

“How’s he holding up?” JJ asks between bites.

You glance over at Hotch, on the floor with one leg outstretched and the other tucked underneath him. Jack’s holding his attention, explaining some advanced maneuver with his army men. “He’s doing alright. Better every day, I think, but there will always be bad days.” 

She hums. “And Jack?”

You shrug, catching Henry’s toy before it can fall from your lap. “He’s still adjusting, of course, but Jess is doing a great job at keeping up with his routines.” 

“Actually, that’s really all kids need at Jack’s age, other than socialization and physical affection,” Spencer says. “The retention of a consistent routine is key to development after the toddler stages of childhood.” 

You toss a grin over your shoulder. “Thanks, Spence.” 

He shrugs. “It’s just true.” 

JJ huffs a laugh and puts her napkin on the table. You pass Henry back to her, and he’s more than happy to tuck back against her chest. 

Dave, a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder, takes your plate. You follow him back into the kitchen, turning the water on and starting on the silverware while he tackles the glasses. 

“Everything okay?” He asks. 

Your brow furrows. “Yeah. Why?”

He glances over his shoulder. “Just not used to seeing you so far from Aaron, is all. Fifty feet is quite a far distance for a shadow to cover, don’t you think?” 

With an eye roll: “Give me a break, Rossi.”

He raises his soapy hands as if to surrender, but you know he’s not even close to done. “I’m just sayin.’” He relents after a moment. “There’s only so much the rest of us can do for him.” 

“What do you mean?” You direct your question at the dishes, remaining studiously focused on your task. 

Unlike you, he pauses, turning square to face you. “For a pair of profilers...You know what? It’s not worth it.”

+++

Aaron stamps the snow off his boots and hangs his coat and scarf on the hook by the door, fresh from an afternoon of errands and paperwork at the office. 

Belatedly, he realizes he missed the fort in the living room when he first came through the door. The couch cushions and dining chairs have all been arranged in an elaborate configuration, supporting the duvet stolen from Aaron’s bed and a fair few flat sheets from the hall closet. All the linens are secured with carefully knotted neckties, or pinned together with some spare clothespins you found God-knows-where.  

Creeping forward, he picks up the corner of what he imagines is a door flap by design. 

In the dark of the fort, he finds you and Jack curled together on your sides around the portable DVD player. Jack’s out like a light - his little hand pressed against his cheek where it rests on your arm. You’re awake, waiting for him. 

Aaron finds your eyes. You smile a little and keep your voice at a whisper. “He’s only been sleeping about twenty minutes or so. He wore himself out playing architect, so I figured a quick nap wouldn’t keep him up too late.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Aaron assures you in a whisper with an equally small smile. “I’m just glad he had fun today.” 

“Yeah.” You arc an arm over Jack’s shoulders and brush at the feathered hair on his forehead. Returning your gaze to Aaron, you playfully (and quietly) ask, “Want to join us for another movie, or are you too old for stuff like this?”

He shakes his head, a real, genuine smile on his face. It’s the first one you’ve seen in a while and it warms you beyond measure. 

When he stoops inside, he rests his head on your calf and his hand on his son. You gingerly stretch for another DVD, and Aaron takes over the logistics after you hand it over - replacing the disk, lowering the volume, and starting the next movie. 

In the quiet darkness, you think of Haley. A few tears slip out of the corners of your eyes, landing between your temple and your arm. You don’t dare move for fear of waking Jack, but it’s as if Aaron can read your mind. He lifts his head just so, finding your lashes inexplicably wet in the light from the screen. 

Your eyes flicker down to his and your close-lipped smile is shaky. 

His eyes narrow. What’s wrong? 

Nothing. You shake your head just a little. I just miss her. 

You watch the inside of his lip pinch between his teeth as his mouth presses into a thin line. 

A trembling breath leaves you as you refocus on the screen, your fingers playing with the hem of Jack’s sleeve as he sleeps. 

Aaron watches you for a moment. He thinks perhaps you are the only person alive who understood what was between him and Haley - the love, the tiffs, the history. Somehow, you managed to see right through them, right through him, right through her, to the heart of it. 

He’s sure you love his son like your own. He remembers the desperate way you held his son when you found him in that trunk. It was that day - when he saw the panic flash across your face when you realized you hadn’t seen Jack, hadn’t found him - he realized that you’d kill, risk life and limb, drop everything, for Jack. 

That day tested you as well. If you thought too long about it, you could still taste the metallic tang of anger in the back of your mouth when you thought about Foyet getting his hands on Jack. It was that overwhelming flood of emotion that brought you to the same conclusion. 

Now, the secure weight of Jack in your arms lulls you into a kind of bone-deep peace. 

You let your eyes close, falling into the sheer comfort of the moment. After a few minutes, Aaron follows suit.

+++

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[nomstellations]

It’s always Electrical [Within Us vorefic]

There are 3 imposters among us.

Pilot wasn’t too sure of what to do with himself after hearing that. Nothing has happened to anyone yet, but...the knowledge made him uneasy. Who could he trust out of the whole crew? Any one of them could be an imposter...but with no evidence, who could really say who’s who? For now all he could do is work as usual, albeit far more cautiously than before. It was hard for him to keep his anxiety hidden from his son, but today he left him in the care of a trusted crewmate as he worked in electrical. At the very least he could trust Tau...and the captain of their ship, Dandy! He’ll have this taken care of in no time, he was always reliable and level headed. Reassured by the thought he worked in much better spirits, humming to himself as he did wiring. The sound of the door opening got his attention, and he turned to look at the ominous silhouette standing before him...

“Ah, Captain! Come to observe me today?

Pilot could recognize that cowboy hat anywhere, even if he couldn’t see him clearly in the lights he knew that was Dandy. Ever since the announcement he’s started coming around and observing crewmembers to ensure their safety, and so far it’s been effective at preventing attacks. He admired his dedication to keeping them all safe, and he felt comfortable knowing he was there. Remembering the fact that he had his helmet off, he flushed a bit in embarrassment. “Uh, sorry about having my helmet off. I know we’re supposed to keep em on, but I was having a hard time with these wires...I figured taking it off would help.” He chuckled a bit nervously as Dandy strides into the room, waving a hand dismissively. He was always rather quiet, but Pilot never minded it much. It just made him an excellent listener! "Oh, it's alright then? Okay, I'm gonna go back to wiring...you don't have to do this y'know, but I'm really glad you do. It makes us all feel safer." Dandy doesn't reply, but he's looking around the room somewhat anxiously. It takes Pilot a moment to pick up on what's wrong, and he speaks up again. "Don't worry, my little copilot is safe in Medbay today, didn't want him getting hurt in here. When I'm done here, we can go check on him together! He always liked you, eheheh." Dandy's shoulders slump in relief, and he nods at him. Satisfied with his response, he turns back to his task and gets back to work.

Dandy found himself staring at Pilot, not to ensure that he was working but purely because he was lost in thought. His son was safe, which was a relief...but he wasn't. The threat of the imposters loomed over Pilot's head and he wasn't even aware that he was currently in a room with one. He wasn't going to be harmed under Dandy's watch though, he may be an imposter but he is their captain. He had grown attached to this crew and wanted no harm to come to them, especially when it concerned Pilot...his fondness for him was quite strong. He was here to ensure his safety, but today his methods were about to get a bit more... drastic. He had overheard the other two imposters discussing their plans, they were tired of Dandy's soft nature and wanted to act on their own, with their first target being the oblivious guy who worked in Electrical...that meant Pilot. They thankfully haven’t come after him yet, but he knew he had to act fast...Dandy wasn’t made to fight and he wouldn’t be able to take on the other two once they came here. So what was he going to do to keep him safe? Easy. He was going to eat him before they could. The telltale pop of a helmet being removed got Pilot’s attention, and when he looked back he found that Dandy had removed his helmet as well. He had never seen it off before, and took a moment to admire his features. A good part of his face was obscured by the shadow of his hat, but he could see the stubble on his face and how the bright red of his eyes contrasted his warm tan skin. “Pilot...” His voice was far more clear now, his southern accent had a slight rasp to it and Pilot found himself blushing a bit. Who knew his captain was this handsome? His face seemed troubled, though...

“Er, yes? What’s the matter, captain?”

Dandy approaches him, kneeling down to his level and cupping his cheek. He was so cute...he almost wanted to forgo his plans here, he didn’t want to break his trust and scare him. But the alternative, the possibility of Pilot being hurt or killed...he couldn’t bear it. “I...I’m sorry for this, Pilot.” Pilot blinks in confusion, what was he apologizing for? "Uh...why? Is it the imposter thing? It can't possibly be your fault, you're doing everything you can to keep us safe--" He cuts himself off with a quiet gasp as he notices that Dandy now has a second set of smaller eyes, staring at him. Not only that, but he’s opened his mouth to reveal sharp rows of teeth and a long, black tongue. It grazes his cheek and he flinches back, horrified. “You’re--!!!” He doesn’t need to finish the sentence, they both know what he meant. He’s an imposter, the very thing he was supposed to be protecting the crew from.

“It won’t hurt, I promise. I have to do this to keep you safe.” Pilot tries to jerk away, but he finds that Dandy’s got a grip on him and he's a lot stronger than what he thought. He's left helplessly staring into the inky blackness of his mouth as it draws closer. He closes his eyes, expecting to be bitten on those sharp fangs...but he doesn't feel anything but cool wetness on his face. He opens his eyes to darkness, Dandy's insides are very dark and slimy, but for whatever reason he wasn't hurt or in excruciating pain. His tongue slides all around his face, not to taste but to slick him up for the trip. Pilot's still from the shock of it all, but the sound of a swallow pulls him back to reality. He was eating him whole and alive, and with another gulp pulling his head into his throat he begins to wriggle about in an attempt to free himself. Dandy keeps him held still for the most part, his strength is definitely not human as he continues to stubbornly gulp him down. Pilot can do nothing but await his fate as Dandy settles into a rhythm of swallows, he’s steadily drawing him deeper into the dark and slick confines of his body. He can feel himself starting to spill out into a more open space, is this his stomach...? It grows loudly as he starts to fill it, and the deep and consistent gulps from above tell him that this is his new resting place. As soon as he’s entirely inside he starts to struggle and kick around, getting himself covered in black slime. Dandy sighs, despite his nature as a shapeshifter Pilot still made a decent bulge in his stomach. He puts his own helmet back on, gently rubbing at him in an effort to calm down the muffled cries from his stomach. “Please, settle down...you won’t be hurt, I promise you. I’m just keeping you safe in here till-” Voices outside of Electrical get his attention, filling him with panic. He can’t be caught like this, he’s too full to defend himself or explain what’s going on. Grabbing Pilot’s fallen helmet he makes his way to a vent in the corner of the room, quickly squeezing himself inside. Pilot continues his struggling, but settles down as Dandy shushes him and encourages him to listen out. He can just barely hear them over the groans of his captain’s satisfied stomach, but the voices of the other two imposters fill his ears. Their vocal disappointment at their failure to devour Pilot makes him realize that Dandy was being true to his word, and that at the moment his stomach was the safest place for him. The bulge in his stomach settles down, and when they both hear the door to Electrical open and close once more he decides to speak up.

“D-dandy...I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I thought you were going to kill me...” “No, I’m sorry for scaring you. I’ll let you out now that they’re gone, but...” “But? But what??” “I’m, ah, sort of stuck in the vents now. I underestimated how much you fill me...” Pilot sighed, it was just his luck that this would happen. At least he wasn’t going to be harmed, and the quiet burbling and gentle movements from his stomach was honestly very relaxing after that adrenaline rush. Dandy was of course going to free him, but...he hasn’t been this full and content in a long time. He’ll take being stuck as a minor blessing for now.

[starsheild]

AuAugust - The Otherworld - Surprise

Ricochet was still shaken, but after the initial shock wore off he was still taking it better than his origin. It took a lot to shake Punch, but this seemed to have done it.

“O’ all tha Pit-damned fools- ‘m sorry Ric.So sor’y.” Punch aplogized, looking at his creation with a mixture of regret and pride. “N’er shoulda let come wit me.”

Well, Ricochet amended, perhaps not as much shaken as angry.

“Ya could’na known. ‘N not like we’d ah let ya come by yerself.” Ricochet countered. It was the truth, and Punch knew it as well as they did. Even if he had forbidden it, Ricochet would have followed him by default, with the complete support of his twin, if not his progenitors as well.

Punch sighed and reached over to stroke his creations helm, marveling at the changes. The darker twin stood taller now, his entire frame more streamlined but just as strong looking. Maybe even more so. It was closer to his merform now, which should not have been surprising. The trident still rested in his hand, Ricochet unwilling to part with it since he had picked it up and the light show had nearly blinded all present.

The priests seemed confused, to a degree, as well. They had hurried the new king and his stubborn origin into the temple, instead of to the feast and festival which had been prepared and waiting. Traditionally there was little delay in the choosing and the crowning and the public celebration. But there had not been a King chosen since before he could remember, so all Punch had to base recent events on were stories that he had been told as a youngling himself.

It was a little unnerving the way the priests kept looking at the Tridet. None  of them seemed the least bit interested in trying in to inspect it any closer than with their optics, but Punch was starting to get the feeling that changing shape as it had was not something that was supposed to happen. Or normally happened. Or whatever.

The artifact was now double headed, and taller than Ricochet. It seemed to Punch as though it should have been terribly heavy, but his creation manages it with startling ease, only setting it down to the degree that it rested across his knees when they were finally brought fuel by a temple acolyte.

Ricochet plowed through the first cube he was given like he had not fueled in a orn. He was halfway through the second before he slowed and looked around, addressing the priests huddled across the room debating in low voices.

“So when can ah leave?”

“Leave?” The most senior of the bunch, Adjudicus, turned and stared at Ricochet as though the new King had gone and sprung another helm while the his back was turned. “You are not going anywhere until we figure out what has happened.”

Ricochet went very still, visor dimming a bit, his servo tightening around the Trident across his knees. “Ahm not stayin’ ‘ere without m’ family.” 

“You cannot leave-.”

“Which one o’us is ‘n charge now?” Ricochet demanded, cutting off his origin before Punch could get a glyph in edge-wise. For a nanoklik he still looked as though he wanted to intervene, but then thought better of it and simply shifted back in his seat, giving his creation a clear line of fire.

“Well?”

Ajudicus hesitated, the rest of those gathered with him shifting uneasily.

“Well?” Ricochet repeated, tone growing impatient and taking on an edge.

“You are.” Adjudicus conceded, optics shifting down in surrender. 

“Then ‘m gonna go get’m.” Ricochet concluded, rising to stand. “N bring ‘em ‘ome. All o’ ‘em.” He added, looking to his Origin with promise, and a hint of a question. If Punch wanted to return to the land, if Sprocket and Rumbler wanted to stay here, that was their choice. If Jazz wanted to as well, perhaps in some lingering hope of some megacycle seeing the fae that had stolen his spark once more, Ricochet was okay with that. But he was determined that staying or coming was to be their choice, and not something forced on them by others.

“You cannot leave…” This time the tone was more desparate request than order.

“I’ll go.” A voice interrupted, drawing the attention of all of those in the room. Frontrunner stepped in, nodding first to Ricochet before addressing Punch. “I r’member yer mates. I’ll take’m the message, ‘n bring’em back safe.”

“M’ brother too.” Ricochet added, studying the other mer. Frontrunner was a Tempest, one of the kin that Punch had introduced him to when they had arrived, and a clan member that his origin had seemed honestly fond of. While Ricochet wasn’t sure just how much the priests knew, Frontrunner knew of Jazz, and knew why only Rico had accompanied Punch.

“All ‘o ‘em.” Frontrunner replied with a small dip of his helm.

Ricochet shared a look with Punch, then the older mech nodded. “We’ll see’s ya when ya get back then.”

*****

“They’ll be fine.” Punch assured Jazz again. “Lotta mer’s are born ‘n the sea. They won’ change yet, but they’ll be fine.”

Jazz steeled himself, trust in his origin finally overruling his own fear as he dropped over the the side of the transport and felt his frame shift instinctively. Legs stretched and twined into a single tail as the other angles of his frame smoothed into the more streamlined mer form he was still becoming accustomed to.

Punch was at his side in an nanoklik, accepting one of the newlings from Sprocket as the Rumbler handed the second one to Jazz.

Less gracefully the two landmech joined their kin and their guide, Frontrunner making sure the pair were secure comfortable with their seapaks before diving downwards.

Jazz was a nervous wreck the first few meters, but after a surpised gurgle, Sunstreaker settled more comfortably against his origins chassis, not projecting the least bit of distress at the change in environment that he found himself in. Across the bond he shared with his other creation, Jazz could sense the same contentment, and it sparked a little wonder in him, that his own creations were so comfortable in a place that was still rather foreign to him.

He caught his own origins knowing grin, and couldn’t help but smile in return. His origin belonged here, and his mates were willing to join him. Perhaps they were all coming home.

Ricochet was waiting for them when they surfaced, surrounded by a small group of strangers. He ignored the looks and the start of a protest from one as he stepped forward, embracing his progenitors and looking a little embarrassed as they oohed and awed over the changes to his frame.

Jazz was less reverent, if no less affectionate, as he accepted the servo his twin extended to help him from the pool. “Let ya alone for an orn an’ ya change yerself all up.”

Ricochet laughed as he pulled his brother up, freezing as the Tident in his hand glowed to life. The light was gentler this time, if no less intense as it spread along Jazz’s frame. As it faded, Jazz’s first concern was for Sunstreaker, but the newling was still contentdly magnetized to his frame, and from all appearances completely unchanged.

The same could not be said of his origin, Jazz’s frame now mirroring his twins shape once more, though still black on white with accents of silver counter to Ricochet's own white on black with gold. In the servo that had been empty was clutched a double ended Trident, identical to the one held by Ricochet.

Jazz stared at his twin, and all Ricochet could do was shrug in return.

“Surprise?”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Don’t Treat My Love Like a Habit Part Eleven

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader Rating: Mature (this may change) Warnings: Cursing; light fluff; Notes: Set before the movie. Not beta-read. Reina is Spanish for Queen. I hope everyone's had a good week 🥰 Summary: Everything had its place in the apartment, and your staying there temporarily was upsetting that balance.

You smelled like Santiago a lot these days. You didn’t mind that, you liked how he smelled - it was a comforting scent to be wrapped up in. A sort of blend of clean cotton and bergamot and sandalwood. It was probably because you were living in his apartment, and sleeping in his bed, and using his body wash… And lately, sleeping in one of his shirts, ‘cause you hadn’t gotten all of your clothing from your apartment yet. He’d insisted that you stay with him until you got a lead on who had broken into your apartment and the office. You didn’t think anything that had ever happened to you had ever engendered such a visceral reaction from him before. He was going with you to Diego’s office, checking in twice a day, making sure you got back to the apartment alright.

“You’re driving me crazy,” You finally mumbled. “Hm?” Pope hardly looked away from his phone. You had taken up most of his couch, leaning back against the arm and stretching your legs out. Pope had joined you a while back, and you’d tucked your toes under his thighs. You were on your laptop; Pope was on his phone doing god knows what. You wiggled your toes, trying to draw his attention. “Santiago.” He glanced over at you. “You gonna be hanging over my shoulder for the rest of this case?” “Whaddaya mean?” “I mean I haven’t gone back to my apartment, or our office -- nothing’s been off, but you’ve been worrying over me like a mother hen. You know I can defend myself. Hell, I’ve got my gun on half the time when I’m here.” “What about the other half?” “I’m asleep.” Pope grunted again, and you sat up a little, bending your knees and leaning forward over them. “Santi. You can’t be my shadow, we’ll never get anything done.” “Not true, I got three leads out of one of the dealers today.” “That’s today. What about tomorrow? Next week?” “I know, I just…” Santiago sighed, lowering his phone and turning to look at you. He weighed his words carefully. “I feel better when I can see that you’re alright.” “Well… You’ll be able to see that if you come back here in the evening. Besides, you think I don’t worry about you when I don’t see you for a few days?” You retorted, “Especially when you’re in a mood-- Don’t give me that look, Garcia, you know exactly what I mean.” Santiago grumbled, rubbing his hand over your shin. “... So what’d you get out of the drug dealer?” You asked, closing your laptop. “Can we talk about that later?” “What would you rather talk about?” “What we’re having for dinner?” You rolled your eyes. “Wanna order out?” “I’ll cook.” “You can cook?” 

Santiago laughed, giving your shin a pat, “You have so little faith in me,” He teased, getting up and heading into the kitchen. You watched him go, slouching down against the couch cushion. That wasn’t true at all. 

-- “Who’s that?” Santiago asked through a mouthful. “Alex,” You answered, setting the phone down on the table and pushing it across to him to read the text, “He wants to hit one of the stash houses that the dealer told you guys about earlier.” The irritated little wrinkle in Santiago’s forehead did not escape your notice. You raised a brow as he scanned the text. “You gonna go with him?” Santiago asked. You could hear the light tone he had affected. “I figured you would,” You admitted, propping your chin up on your hand, “You know I’m better coordinating in the office, anyway.” “You did alright last time.” “A one-off. I think you and ‘Brano oughta handle this one without me.” He grunted, pushing your phone back toward you. You took hold of it, tucking it into your back pocket. “Think about it, obviously,” You added, “I don’t want you going in on a bust you’re not comfortable with.” “Even if it’s viable?” “Just ‘cause something’s viable doesn’t mean you’ve gotta jump on it, Pope. And what about that recce I looked over for you and Diego?” “On hold, since we got those dealers.” You leaned back in your seat, humming thoughtfully. “... Could hit ‘em at the same time,” You said after a moment. Pope’s eyes lifted from his plate to you, brows raised. “...You’re not seriously suggesting what I think you are, Reina.” “You said yourself that the hits to my apartment and the office mean that we’re getting close. They’re going to start moving on things a lot faster now that they know we’re on their tail -- and the intel we’re getting from the dealers may be old if we follow the usual timeline we take to move on something they tell us.” “And if it’s bad intel?” “I’m not saying cut out the research or the stakeouts or the groundwork, I’m not, but we need to act fast. I go with Diego, you go with ‘Brano.” You stood, taking up your plate. “...Frankie’s right, you are starting to think like me,” Santiago teased, watching you. “Frankie is wrong and how dare the both of you. Now gimme,” You retorted, reaching out and taking Pope’s empty plate before heading into the kitchen. “You’re not doing the dishes--” “I am, too. You did the cooking-- and thank you, by the way,” You added, glancing over your shoulder as you heard Pope follow you into the kitchen. “...Why do I have to go with Zambrano,” Pope whined as he sidled up beside you, watching as you began to wash the dishes, “Why can’t you go with me and Zambrano go with Diego?” “Someone needs to be in the office to coordinate and you shouldn’t be out there by yourself. You’re liable to do something remarkably stupid.” 

“There’s that faith in me again.” “Well, call me selfish, but I like it when you come home in one piece.” 

You set a dish in the dish drainer as you waited for his response. Santiago went quiet for a few moments and you glanced over to find him watching you. “...What?” You asked, “Am I not washing the dishes correctly? I know you’re picky.” You’d found that out over the course of the last few days, living with Santiago. The man was...Particular. Everything had its place in the apartment, and your staying there temporarily was upsetting that balance. Apparently you’d been folding shirts wrong all your life. With that knowledge, it only stood to reason that you were washing dishes wrong, too. But Santiago shook his head, lowering his eyes. “We’ll talk to Diego about coordinating tomorrow.” “Fine. I’ll start digging into the tip ‘Brano wants to hit.” “Fine.” “Good.” “Great.” You rolled your eyes a little bit, setting the other cleaned dish aside. “You want a beer?” Santiago asked, pushing off of the counter. “Sure. You gonna show me how to throw it out later, too?” You teased. Santiago chuckled. “If you ask me nicely, I might.”

Tag list: @justanotherblonde23  ; @revolution-starter​​ ; @emurlemur ; @badbitxhbuckybarnes ;  @supernaturalcat7​

[kerwritesthings]

Homecoming

Summary: It hurts to crash and fall, but helps when you have someone to help pick you back up

Word Count: little over 2.2k

Warning: fluff with a slight touch of oh sad, cursing and a little illusion to naughty

Author Notes: So hey, muse is back, feeling it and she’s a cranking. I had general thoughts on this since end of Final and return to play, bullets I had vomited, maybe a paragraph but it never went anywhere. After I got J’s challenge done, it kind of just poured out in regards to those two kids. This is part of what’s now officially the Orange Blossom verse since I’m fully attached to Tyler and Clementine. 

Guess I need to get a hockey masterlist together now? Cause yeah, more words coming here for them (possibly a NSWF back half to this? maybe?) and on a few other hockey boys. Also, maybe even getting some Shawn words out too? #museisfeelingit

We’re taking off. I finally get to say see you and the boys later and really mean it.

You knew straightaway when the buzzer sounded the other night this was going to be hard, harder than last year for sure. When you talked after, it shattered you hearing him that way. You couldn’t be there and that hurt. You also knew there was more than he was letting on or even telling you, but you weren’t pushing him then; it wasn’t worth it. There’d be a time and place for that.

We’ll be waiting xo

You try to get as much set and ready, at least for the next 48 hours, so you can just both be. Fridge and pantry are full, everything is clean top to bottom inside and out. As you run through the checklist in your head, you feel a heavy head plunk down on your knee with a whine.

“I know buddy, I miss him too. He’s coming home to us right now though. Only a couple more hours,” you scratch behind the golden lab’s ear. “Let me feed you and your crazy brothers so you’re not completely batshit when your Dad gets home.”

As soon as you say Dad, they lose their minds it seems. A raucous feeding and a subsequently needed clean up after of both the kitchen and you, time is closer than you thought. You’re refiling the Brita when you hear the locks clicking open and the telltale plunk of bags hitting the floor. Then he’s there in the doorway between the hall and the kitchen. You just look at him for a moment and truly exhale for the first time since he called after the game, he’s finally home.

“Hi,” you smile, stepping closer to him.

“There’s my babygirl,” Tyler sighs deeply, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around you. “Fuck, I missed you, so damn much Emmy.”

You hold him just as close, nodding into his chest trying not to cry. He drops his head into the crook of your neck and breathes in and out slowly. Your arms wind around his waist as you feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin.

“It’s too quiet…” he starts.

“They’re outside. They were going crazy in the house; I think they could tell from my energy you were coming back,” you explain. “That or it was just another Wednesday.”

He bites a chuckle back, his lips dusting against your neck.

“May need your help with them,” he murmurs against your skin.

“How bad?” you ask, hands sliding up to his face, pulling him away to look straight at you.

He’s tired, it’s all over his face. He just shrugs.

“Tyler…” you start.

“Bad,” he mumbles out, eyes slipping shut as your fingers start looping in his hair sticking out from his hat. “Doc wants me in for scans and testing tomorrow afternoon.  I’m gonna need you to drive me please, J dropped me off because I couldn’t.”

That’s why you didn’t hear the rumbling of an engine or the garage door.

“Where?” you tread lightly.

“Better to ask me where not, Em. You know the knees were acting up before we went into lockdown, but they were better than before when we went back for phase two,” he replies. “Then the hip started at the end of camp here probably from the other shit. I thought we had it under control before we left and the knees were feeling less shitty. I played the one game in round robin. Wasn’t great, but it wasn’t crazy pain and I’ve played through worse. They backed me out for precautions, you know that. Thought the rest and therapy on it would do it.”

“But then?” you probe carefully, knowing he wasn’t letting on how much the bumps and bruises of playoffs were really affecting him when he would call.

“All kind of went to hell from there though and it just unraveled,” he sighs deeply. “Definitely the right hip. Left is tweaked from compensating. Wrist was nagging too. Everything fucking hurt but, I just. I couldn’t let them down, I couldn’t. It’s playoffs. Not when we were pushing and we were that damn close. So fucking close.”

Tyler sniffs and drops his head to your shoulder.

“You have the biggest heart baby; you’d never let them down. They know that. But you need to take care of yourself and not break yourself to the point of disrepair, Tyler. Not good for them or for you, especially if you want to keep on playing,” you say. “Tabling this for now though. Let’s go see the boys, then I think you need some food, a soak and some sleep.”

“You’re forgetting something,” he whispers into your shirt, his hands holding firm at your hips.

“Hmm?” you question.

“You, I most definitely need you, Emmy,” he picks his head up and smirks before leaning into kiss you.

It starts sweet, light even then he presses into it. Tongue swiping and teeth nibbling, it’s warming up quickly. His hands flex tighter, drawing you even closer into him. You can already feel him half hard against you.

“Ty,” you break away, breathless. “Not if…”

“Nope, non-negotiable. We’ll figure out a way. It’s been almost two fucking months,” he utters against your lips before pressing into another kiss, this one quick. “I hear them losing their shit out there. Come on.”

He snags your hand, tangling your fingers together and tugging you towards the French doors to the patio. You can tell immediately in his gait, he’s in a good deal of discomfort. Knowing him, he’s refused anything heavy pain killer wise while he was playing, other than the extra strength Advil he’s only been comfortable taking. Maybe some cortisone if the inflammation wasn’t subsiding and even that would be a push to get him to agree to.

“Don’t even think about getting down on the grass you, I saw the limping,” you chide, pushing him down onto the lounge chair. “They can all attack you from here.”

He pouts, but you just flick his ear, then yank the hat off his head.

“Boys, look who I found for you,” you call out.

Three large dog heads whip around at once and make a break for you two. You back out of the way, giving the labs more than enough room to get up and around the chair. Once the initial may lay of wagging tails, jumping excitement and licking backs down, Gerry ends up on the lounge wedging himself on and between Tyler’s legs as he thinks he’s still tiny, with Cash and Marshall on either side their heads in his lap.

“Who’s the best boys? Did you miss me? I missed you. Were you good for Mom while I was gone?” he asks them, petting them each as they bask in having him back. “You better have taken good care of her. We had an agreement.”

“As good as being in the house with three boys without their dad could be,” you laugh from behind the chair, hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “They were good to cuddle with, especially on game nights.”

“Not as good as me though,” he tips his head back with a cheeky grin.

“Debatable Tyler,” you tease, bopping his nose.

“Hey,” he pouts, lip jutting out.

“You can remind me later,” you murmur, dropping a kiss to his forehead. “You spend some time with the motley crew out here. Don’t you think about running or leaving that chair, really. I’ll get some stuff pulled together in the kitchen. Any requests? I stockpiled on some of your favorites.”

“Did you make your chicken bake?” his eyes light up as he thinks about what to ask for.

“Of course I did, you asked me about that a few times when you were griping about food options,” you grin. “I’ll get that and salad ready. Boys, you need to take it easy with Dad, he’s more broken than he’s willing to admit.”

You head back into the house and into the kitchen. As you’re turning from the oven to start on the salad, you hear the thump of paws first before feeling a plop of a head on your feet.

“Marsh baby, why aren’t you outside with your Daddy?” your eyebrows knit as you look down at the dog.

The dog just huffs and sighs with big eyes looking up at you.

“He’s back now with us buddy,” you wipe your hands on a towel before bending down to pet him. “He’s missed you just as much as you missed him. You’re his first baby. Go love on him some more.”

Marshall just whines again, nudging you to try to make you cuddle with him on the kitchen floor.

“Let me finish this up, then we can all snuggle on the couch ok?” you bargain, heading to the sink to wash your hands before finishing the salad.

He didn’t leave your side as you went on your way to get the meal together, sticking closer than he did when Tyler first left. The bake would be in for a bit longer, so you slide the salad into the fridge just as everyone filters back into the house.

“Your oldest son has abandonment issues,” you call out. “Tyler, you best not. Get your ass on the couch, I’ll pull him over. There’s no rolling on the floor.”

“He’s always been the most sensitive, worse in his old age,” he jokes, sliding an arm around your waist to lean into you.

“He’s not that old, be nice,” you poke at his side. “Marshall just loves you that much. That needs like 20-25 more minutes in the oven. Salad’s done, so it’ll be easy once this is warmed through. Come on; couch, pups and maybe I’ll even let you get handsy.”

Tyler turns you, palms sliding up your hips around to your back to pull you into him. You go easily and willingly.

“Thank you, Emmy,” he says softly, nosing at your temple. “I’m so lucky I get to come home to not only these three but to you too. Means a lot. I love how much you care about those three nutzos in there as much as how much you love me. And I know it’s not easy at times, but I hope you know that without question, I love you. I love you more every damn day and I want to keep showing you that.”

You didn’t expect that. It’s never been a question on your feelings for each other, but it always hits you when Tyler gets into his feelings like that. You don’t even respond with words; you just pop up onto your toes to kiss him.

“Love you too Ty,” you murmur, a breath away from his lips.

As soon as you both settle into the couch, letting him get comfortable first as you saw the grimace when he initially sat down, the dogs fall into place too. Even if it’s only for a short break, it’s nice to feel like things are settling back into a sense of normalcy. You close your eyes and exhale, probably for the first time since they came off the ice after game six.

“Bath after dishes?” you start as you shuffle plates off the table. “No fighting me, you need it. You’re wincing at every other movement. I picked up some eucalyptus soak with Epsom salt, so you won’t smell like my lavender or jasmine.”

“You joining me?” he wiggles his eyebrows, grin as wicked as ever after taking a sip from his glass.

“We’re not fucking in the tub Tyler,” you chide him as you load the dishwasher. “Busted hips do not make for good times with water sports even with as big as that soaker is.”

“Wrecking all my fun,” he sighs with the grin still evident. “But I guess you’re right. If I promise to kind of behave, will you join me?”

You can’t help but scoff a laugh.

“Kind of behave? Shit’s sake. Only you, Tyler,” you swing back around to the table, dusting a kiss to his temple. “Let me go get stuff ready and the water all set in there.”

“Someone needs to make sure I wash behind my ears amongst other places,” he gets cheeky, snagging you to pull you down onto his lap. “No one better than you for that, baby.”

He nips at your ear before nuzzling his face into your neck before tightening his arms around your waist. You’ve missed this, missed him.

“You can distract me all you want, but I’m still not fucking you in that tub,” you laugh, your hands tracing loops and swirls against the black ink over his forearm before trailing down his hands.

“Was at least worth a shot, but I’ll take you wet, naked and full of bubbles in the water with me,” he sighs, biting at your jaw before pushing you off his lap. He takes a swat at your ass as you’re walking away.

“I’ll add bubbles, just for you, since you asked so nicely,” you call out over your shoulder, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Put that away unless you plan on using that, preferably on me,” he shouts back in the midst of laughing.

[sugar-petals]

BTS Scenario: Taking Care of Them When They Have a Cold

↳ ♡ NOTE ⇁ time for fluff. autumn season is coming, let me set the mood right here, we’re going cozy 🍂

warnings ⚠️ hurt/comfort, brief mention of sexual tension

⌈jimin⌋ ⇢ Jimin’s cold is unusually subtle. In terms of visible signs, it’d take some time to notice it for someone who doesn’t know him or doesn’t check just how heavy another person’s breath is going. But feedback? You will definitely get. Compared to how he’s pouting about it, which will melt your heart is what I’m saying, the symptoms are understated in comparison to the other members. Taehyung’s cough can shatter an entire neighborhood, Jimin sneezing is as graceful as a gazelle. Mind you, his nose is runny, and the slight fatigue of the first two days isn’t negligible, but the major thing to actively mend is more psychological than physical. In other words, his body does its thing, you don’t have to overextend yourself. 

That’s what you have to figure out first to really take care of him properly. After laying him down and bringing both snacks and liquids, talking is what he needs rather than ten thousand types of medications and cool towels all over him. Jimin doesn’t want to see you become sick as well so you don’t sit up close, but at talking range, and you text a lot during the day while you work. He’s worried about not being able to practice and hopes the cold doesn’t show in his appearance. You assure him it takes five days at best and he is okay again and promise a lot of kisses. With that prospect, healing is even sweeter. And, you know the guy, Jimin misses seducing you, so.

⌈taehyung⌋ ⇢ Absolutely enjoys being babied ten times out of ten. Nothing better than you preparing a hot herbal bath. Rosemary, thyme, camomile. The steam spiraling off the water surface looks so relaxing in the candlelight, the classical music you put on sways him into a trance, he lays there for half an hour just motionless. He gets a little tray of coconut cookies on the bed stand, you play the guitar to him, you massage his feet before he sleeps… Which, and he hates admitting it, makes it nice to be sick. By all means not because of the fever, but the extra attentions, the hot chocolate for bed. Taehyung thinks about that twice and concludes something. He doesn’t want to get a cold just to receive this treatment. Not for his own health nor to worry or overwhelm you, he’s not gonna guilt-trip you into being a servant. 

So, you agree for later: It’s good to treat him sporadically just because, whenever and wherever, cue Shakira. That Taehyung so enjoys a good healing and mending time and it just explodes when you both have a reason to, that’s rather something to expand to the whole relationship. Taehyung will do the exact spoiling for you, with a romantic twist the way you know him. It doesn’t need a sickness to resort to doing nice things for your partner. At the end of the day, the body will remember it and get sick again because it sees what it gets through being ill. That’s something to squarely avoid doing, a random gesture is good for its own sake, amen.

⌈yoongi⌋ ⇢ Grumpy, murmuring, disgruntled he can’t work without getting a headache, needs a lot of silence to recover so he curls up on his own with earphones in and fifty playlists on repeat. He’s like tch, only thing I need is tiger balm to whip me back into shape. Or… wait. Wait a second. A cup of steaming hot coffee with extra foam he will not reject. Or a plate of fried rice. Anything fried and super crispy, really. Yoongi likes those things, especially when prepared by you. Nothing is more honoring. Actually? I’ll change the initial statement. Yoongi does accept some help. You simply gotta find out his catnip I mean favorite dishes and either know the place to order it from or have some kitchen basics down. Nothing super fancy though, it doesn’t need a God’s Menu. The right seasoning does the trick already. 

He wants it mega spicy, sweating out the cold is the way to go said Yoongi’s mom back in the day so he goes by that motto. Love starts in the stomach for felines. If another BTS member drops take-out at the door, even better, that uplifts him greatly. When he munches, that’s the most gratifying thing in the world. Yoongi wants you to eat with him by the bed so that means chili in the bedroom but screw it. All that food and you cranking up the heater distracts Yoongi from his cold and some head pats have him on his way to recovery. And, by the way. He’s kinda turned on by you cooking for him so… the frustration is real, you’re gonna fuck like rabbits once he’s okay again.

★ ⌈namjoon⌋ ⇢ The friendly giant will stay in denial about his cough for at least three days and walk around with way too much medicine in his system. He begs for someone to relieve him, mostly himself, but all those sky-high standards are in the way. Responsibility! Hard work and endurance! Solve it in your head! What is the spiritual reason for colds? How many pills keep you awake for an all-nighter to write an album in one go? What’s next on the schedule? So it goes on, you know the deal with Joonie. You have to kick that leader butt so he finally enters the healing cave under the sheets. Don’t kick too hard though, he doesn’t have Jimin-level cushions. He topples over into his sheets fast anyway, he’s that level of exhausted from his own suppression. 

The story goes on, Namjoon feels extremely guilty for getting pampered and still ponders the reasons why he is ill rather than slowing down a minute and closing his laptop for a hot second. It gets a little awkward unless you figure out your secret weapon. What he feels better with is you reading him stories while he rests on the sofa. I’m not kidding. Or if you’re busy or he wants to be alone, audiobooks. That input is like a lullaby to Namjoon who gets knocked out by the soft whispering only to descend into 12 hours of sleep. Ah, he’s namjooning. Yep. His cold will force him into resting, but by the time he recovers, he is six books wiser and has had the pleasure of listening to your voice which he finds soothing. Thankful he is, anticipate an expensive present and flowers.

★ ⌈jungkook⌋ ⇢ Meal and fluid intake: Quantity explosion! Wow, wow, and wow again, the sheer amount that he can snack and turn into what seems even more muscle and more sweetness. Guinness World Record. He knows his system is currently resetting, he wants to hand it the building blocks, he knows the math. Yes, even sick Jungkook is the cutest foodie in the world. Yes, he will eat his veggies. He worries about not being able to work out so you at least help him stretch his legs ever so slightly in bed. He’s missing his boxing gloves like crazy, he wants to see the members in the practice room, he wants his milk. The latter is easy to get for him, and FaceTime comes in handy. 

Namjoon does a little motivational speech, and Jungkook feels better almost instantly. Later on, you have to scold him — well, just a little bit — for getting up in all that enthusiasm to do some of his routine on the second day, but he already knows it’s not good for him to get his heart rate up like that. He patiently snuggles in a cocoon of duvets with only his eyes being visible. Until, finally, his red lil’ nose goes back to normal and his lungs feel a lot lighter. Jungkook really hates being dizzy, so it’s a weight off his hunky shoulders all right. Then, he can join you at the dinner table for a double portion of extra Parmesan Spaghetti, and you settle on the couch to bingewatch romantic animes and any Studio Ghibli movie in history.

★ ⌈jin⌋ ⇢ It simply can’t be helped, he even wants to make this funny. Humor really is a never-ending well, Jin is Spongebob’s long lost cousin if you go by his amount of meme talk. He calls himself Rudolph the Red-Nosed Jindeer, stuffs handkerchiefs into his nostrils, draws smileys on his knees with the cream usually meant for a dry philtrum (he now has very hydrated knees, how about that), does impossible contortions to find the right sleeping or reading position. Honestly, you don’t really have to take much care of him nor worry, Jin will cure himself through laughter. The power of positive emotion. Entertainment is nothing to provide for, he’s a one-man show after all. Jin is the least bored when he’s sick among the group, however! It needs someone else to exchange with, you know. No punchline without an audience. Listening is the best thing. 

Sit, lean back, see what he has to say. The only thing you gotta actively do is stop him from choking on his own spit after a particularly dead-on joke. Maybe it’s introducing some room for serious time that helps Jin enter a different track. I can imagine that. Some talk about memories, talk about sorrows and issues. Jin is a complete man, but he still has plenty of ’em, demons don’t evade handsome people. And those need to be talked through in a silent minute. Jin also enjoys movie nights with a cup of tea in one hand and syrup in the other, that’s the go-to way to unwind. You can finally go all out and pour him his tea, bake for him, serve some self-made popcorn, extra sticky and sweet, oh yum.

★ ⌈hoseok⌋ ⇢ If Jimin and Hobi ever get colds at the same time, this will be the poutiest contest. They’re the most vocal about it in the group. Hoseok, and that will come to surprise you a little, becomes needy. Not at the beginning where he’s confused and emotional about what’s going on with him (someone who works this hard and needs a fully functioning body is thrown out of their lane even by the slightest symptom), but shortly after. You’ll come to understand how sensitive his body is, almost as perceptive as Jungkook’s actually. His body blows up with a strong fever, a hot man heating up even more is just an explosion of physics. 

He needs handkerchiefs, he needs tons of water, he needs music to distract him a little, he needs a heating blanket for his feet once the fever is gone. Granted, every sick person depends on those things, but Hoseok is someone who calls out of the bedroom often because he ran out. He’s not afraid to ask for things unlike Namjoon who would refuse out of overt politeness. You certainly have a lot to do because his cold comes in strong so it’s important you enjoy taking care of him and don’t do it out of obligation. Quality time is what we’re talking about here. It’s not about you doing the things, it’s about the presence. That’s why Hoseok will use his money well and always order proper take-out that’s not just classic fast food, you don’t have to cook or anything.

related: putting bts to sleep after a hard day 

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[honeylikewords]

uneasy lies the head (poe dameron)

In the wake of her passing, the official, if somewhat symbolic, royal title of Alderaan has passed to from Leia Organa to her chosen heir, Poe Dameron. Along with his elected position as the Galactic Senate Represenative for his home planet, Yavin V, Poe is now burdened with the responsibility of a political office he never imagined holding, and is called to attend a summit of the galaxy’s leaders that will be held aboard the Starcruiser Halcyon. 

This piece is based on a few things: one, me liking the idea of Prince of Alderaan Poe, two, my interest in Begrudging Politician Poe, and three, the new details that have come out about the real-life Halcyon experience that will be opening up at Disney World in Florida, which you can read more about here! I’ve been really excited about it for a long time, and just thought it’d be fun to tie one of my favorite characters in to this amazing new experience that will be coming soon! 

(Content Warnings: mentions of Leia’s de@th, some slightly risque flirting between Poe and his wife, and a little bit of making out, but that’s about it! Word count is 5k.)

Poe stands in front of the mirror, anxiously adjusting the epaulets of his tunic. They don’t seem to sit right on his shoulders, he thinks, passing a hand through their silvery fringe and watching them brush the snow-white fabric of his sleeves. This isn’t his kind of uniform, and when he looks at himself, he sees more a child wearing the spoils of a raid on their parent’s closet than the Senate representative he was meant to be. He tries tightening the high, pale collar of his tunic against his throat, swallowing thickly and watching his Adam’s apple bob beneath the colorless fabric. That didn’t help much dignify the image, he thinks, eyeing himself morosely.

He looks older. His beard is fuller, having let it grow out to appear more… wise, he supposes, and the grey streaks running through it match the ones appearing more and more every day at his temples. His tan fingers tease lightly at the end of his beard, trying to stroke it like he’d seen other, more senior politicians do when lost in thought (or at least trying to come across like they were). It makes him look pretentious.

Sighing loudly, he slumps his taut shoulders and rolls them a few times to loosen the aching muscles. He turns away from the mirror and steps out of the dressing room, entering the stateroom and collapsing onto the edge of the bed, his face in his hands. He hears a door hiss open and looks between his fingers at the emerging figure.

She’s still fidgeting with her hair, which is now lifted from its former looseness into a series of intricate looping braids. Letting out a huff, she takes her hands away, seemingly having resigned herself to leaving the hair as it was. Poe lifts his head a little, resting his chin on his palm as he watches her pat her dress and check the mirror in the dressing room, just as he’d been doing mere moments before.

She looks much, much better than he does. It’s an objective fact. Her air is stately and refined, with her gown framing her regally. The fabric is a delicate, pale blue, trimmed with fine threads of gold that interweave and flow, like braided ivies, trailing up her waist in a way that guides Poe’s wandering eyes to the loveliness of her figure. She seems to belong better to this world, with its mannerisms and socialites, its political politenesses. He never had the patience to be so diplomatic, even though that is his job, now.

He watches her pull a face at herself in the mirror, frowning at some flaw he’s oblivious to, and he stands up, coming to her side and placing his hands on the small of her waist, leaning his head on her shoulder and kissing her cheek amiably.

“You look like a princess,” he purrs, hoping his flattery will encourage her confidence. He hates seeing her unhappy with herself.

“I wish,” she responds, voice tinged with something wan and far away. “I… I really do wish.”

He knows what she’s thinking about: he’d been thinking about it, too. Dropping the air of adulation, Poe reaches for her hand and gently knits their fingers together, pressing their locked hands softly against her belly for reassurance. He meets her eyes in the mirror, and the two share expressions of loss.

“I miss her, too,” he murmurs. “I don’t feel like… like I can do what she did. What she left for me to do.”

He feels his wife squeeze his hand intently, causing him to lift his head up and meet her gaze as she turns to look at him, unfiltered by the mirror. Her eyes, clear and sharp, stare at him as she nods, then kisses his forehead warmly, taking her free hand and brushing it softly across his cheek.

“She chose you for a reason,” she whispers, soft and sincere, just like she always does. “Leia left you her seat and title because you’re the only person fit for the job. She trusted you.”

Her hand dips to his jaw and she lifts his head up from its morose slump. He cannot look away from her, even if he wanted to.

“I trust you, too.”

Poe takes in all the angles of his wife’s face, knowing that no single word of what she said was untrue, but searching for the possibility of a lie anyway in some small giveaway of her expression; after all, how could he be the one fit to carry on in the shadow of his predecessor? How could his shoulders carry the burden of her greatness, much less improve upon it? But there, in her eyes, Poe sees the truth, reflected over and over again: he was chosen for this job, chosen to carry on a legacy he had no option but to strengthen. He is the only one who could, whether he believes it or not.

He straightens his back a little, standing up taller,  and squeezes his wife’s hand in silent thanks, taking a moment to press their foreheads together and breathe in the scent of her. She is wearing perfume-- something they’d never had access to during the scarcity of the war-- and he marvels at how something so small changes the entire atmosphere of her presence. She truly embodies the grace and elegance of the woman who came before both of them, looking every inch the part of an Alderaanian royal.

Glancing back at himself in the mirror, Poe huffs; while she may look, indeed, just the way Leia would want the nation to be represented, Poe does not. He looks stuffy in his garb, at times like an old man in the too-tight clothes of his youth, and, at others, like a scrawny teenager in the baggy trappings of someone he was only pretending to be. She seems to sense his dismay, as she takes the initiative to comfort him, this time.

“You look dashing,” she smiles, adjusting his lapels and the ribbons of decoration on his chest. “Prince Poe Dameron, Senate Representative of Alderaan and Yavin IV. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

At that, Poe lets out a playful, exasperated huff, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll be great,” he grimaces, eyeing his form in the mirror. He raises his voice into a mocking lilt, swaying his head from side to side in an intentionally cartoonish parody of a stuffy bureaucrat. “Oh, Senator Y’Barra, your engagement commission is most dreadful! Shall we discuss its heinousness over tea and crescent crumpets? Garcon, we need more gold-dusted butter for our scones if we are ever to pass this bill!”

She covers her mouth to hide the beginnings of a smile and tries to reprimand Poe, affectionately slapping his chest.

“It’s nice that we’ve been asked to attend the summit, Poe. At least try to make some--”

“Don’t say friends,” he groans. “I don’t want to make friends with these people. They’re politicians; they don’t want to do anything other than profit, and post-war reconstruction is a hell of a time to make money for slime bags like these people.”

That seems to take her back for a moment, and Poe watches her expression shift as she sorts through her thoughts, her lips pursed, eyebrows arched. She then shrugs and nods, acquiescing.

“Probably. But there are probably also people like you: people whose service in the war and dedication to their people, all across this galaxy, led them to this job. People who just want to rebuild. Do better. You’ll find them, dear: you’re an excellent judge of character.”

She taps her fingers against his nose playfully.

“After all, you picked me, didn’t you?”

“If I remember correctly,” Poe teases, lowering his eyes to her lips and smirking, “You were the one to get a crush on me first. All butterflies and nerves anytime I so much as passed you in the halls. More like you picked me, huh?”

Poe catches her face take on the familiar cues of embarrassment and flustering; he can just tell he’s got her all a-twitter, and she pouts her lips, looking down at her shoes shyly as he starts to chuckle. It’s adorable to remember how flighty and skittish she was in those early days, and how enamored of her he himself was, and remains. Getting her all shy like this is a sweet harkening back to that early, giddy tension, and he dips his face down, hovering his lips just above hers, feeling her draw in a breath of neediness and--

“Senator Dameron,” a robotic voice announces through the commlink in the stateroom, freezing Poe in place. “The ferry is beginning docking procedures with the Halcyon. Please proceed to the boarding area. A droid will be sent to collect your luggage as you leave.”

“Ah, shit,” he growls. He’d completely lost track of time.

Dodging back out into the stateroom, Poe glances out the window and sees the looming mass of a gigantic starcruiser, a sharp body of glimmering steel and inky black portholes contrasted against the star field behind it. It is massive-- far larger than any ship Poe had personally piloted in the past-- and spans more than the distance his window could afford a view of. They are extremely close, and within minutes will be aboard the behemoth, where Poe will have to eat, sleep, and breathe senatorial and princely dignity.

He turns away from the window to see his wife making sure everything was packed and prepared for departure, checking the bathroom and dressing room before giving him a confirming nod: everything is where it needs to be. They are ready to go.

They walk towards each other and Poe places his hands on his wife’s arms, stroking up and down the bareness of her shoulders to steady himself. As he feels the warmth of her skin beneath his rough palms, Poe blinks with awareness and gives her a quick squeeze, darting off to the dressing room. He opens a trunk and lifts up the topmost layer of fabric, running back into the stateroom with it carefully laid across both his forearms, then turns his wife to face him and gently lays the upper corners of the fabric on each of her shoulders.

“The cloak,” he mumbles as he fastens the pale silver silk around her neck, “Don’t wanna forget that. A princess is set apart by garments like that.”

“Right,” she hums, admiring his hands as he fusses with her collar. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that since you’re the prince, now, and I married you, I’m the--”

“Princess, yep,” grins Poe. “Princess Dameron.”

“By marriage only,” she teases.

“And I’m only the prince because she left an essentially honorary title to me,” Poe wits back. “But it suits you, at least.”

“You think?”

“Mm. Now, I think the prince owes his princess one of the tenets of royal responsibility: unadulterated affection towards one’s spouse.”

“Is that a tenet of your responsibilities?,” she smiles, brow cocked.

“I just made it up, but I like to think so.”

Once again, Poe presses his palms against the soft curves of her upper arms, squeezing in the grounding manner he knows she likes, tracing his thumbs along the creamily-smooth fabric now covering her, and he leans in close, admiring how the light shifts against her skin as his shadow draws nearer. He parts his lips, ready to feel the gentle swell of her soft ones against his, when, as if by divine interruption, the hydraulic hiss of the stateroom’s door fills the room and a silver-plated protocol droid peers at him through the now-open door. He grits his teeth to resist letting out a completely undignified expletive aimed at the droid and stares at it pointedly, trying to silently communicate that it had interrupted a private moment.

“It is time to board the Halcyon, Senator,” it chimes in the lilting manner all protocol droids seem to have, seemingly blissfully unaware of his frustration. “Please, come with me to the boarding area.”

Behind the protocol droid, a cargo lifter droid rolls by, seemingly waiting until Poe and his wife leave the cabin to enter. Poe sighs, but can’t resist letting a small chuckle out: both droids, despite their different purposes, both seem polite, in their own sorts of ways, and he always finds that endearing.

Looking to his wife, Poe gives a little bemused half-smile and shrugs his shoulders, as if apologetic but resigned. She takes his hand and turns, nodding to both droids with an impassive but gracious expression, one that Poe notes is more than befitting of an official such as herself. Distanced, but not dour, regal, but not recalcitrant. He loves it.

“Thank you,” she says, coolly polite. “Please, lead the way.”

The protocol droid begins its stiff-jointed hobble towards the boarding area and Poe and his wife trail behind, arms linked at the elbow as Poe fidgets with her fingers. He twiddles her marriage band as they walk, always comforted by the feel of it on her hand. He admires it as they silently proceed; it’s somewhat rough-hewn, made from hammered durasteel, a little uneven and dented in some places from the haste in which it was made, and Poe loves it.

He loves how it contrasts the delicate, fragile jewelry common amongst royals, how it’s not meant to glitter and shine and grab attention, how it ties her to him and he to her, with no regard for image or pomp. It is heavy and solid and made purely for the sake of love and belonging, and she wears it everywhere she goes with pride, as if it was the finest-cut Oshiran sapphire, or the most carefully sculpted gold. It is one of the crown jewels of Alderaan, now, and the thought of it-- of his parent’s simple, quickly-made wedding ring, forged in a time of war, without promise of any moment past the one they were in, now being a royal regalia-- makes his heart ache to bursting with unadulterated love.

Poe tugs her hand up and kisses her knuckles as they finally round the corner into the boarding area; somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers the droid saying something about how their luggage will be sent directly to their stateroom aboard the Halcyon, but he’s hardly listening. He’s looking at his wife, his rock, his tether, as they begin their socialite dance, seeking steadfast comfort in her as he prepares to have to play his part in a world he was never born to be in.

The droid gestures to a corridor formed between the two ships: passengers traipse from the shuttle onto the boarding area of the Halcyon, representatives from a myriad of species in a breadth of costumes and liveries. Poe and his wife exchange glances, knowing that these people will have some hand in forming what comes next in the political landscape of the galaxy, and that they, too, will be instrumental in forging the new governments of the rising Republic.

“Come on,” she smiles, trying to coax him along, tugging his hand and taking a step forward, “It’s gonna be fine. It’s not like my flyboy to get cold feet, hm?”

Poe chuckles and shakes his head, trying to dislodge his clouding worries, and walks in time with his wife, joining the throngs of senators and royals and presidents and diplomats making their way aboard the Halcyon. Some of them exchange pleasantries, others are locked in conversations: some even look at Poe and his wife and nod in acknowledgement, or turn to their compatriots and whisper.

Poe feels an embarrassed heat creep up the base of his neck; he knows rumors have circulated about his particularly unusual position as a representative for a dead planet and a living one, and about how he’d been named the next in line for a royal title he was not born into. He tries not to let it get to him-- let people think that they think, and do your job, Leia had always told him-- but the feeling of alienation and disbelonging hangs over him, shaming him into silence. He tenses, and keeps his eyes fixed forward, which grants him an ever-nearing view of the grand foyer of the massive starcruiser.

The Halcyon is unlike any other ship Poe has ever been on. He’d heard about starcruisers like this, meant to be enormous cruise ships travelling in luxury and style from one planet to another, filled with sprawling cabins and indulgent amenities, and had never even pictured himself aboard one. The thought hardly appealed to him: days, weeks, even, of doing nothing? Just wandering aimlessly around, decadent and opulent in one’s revelry? The mere idea disgusts him. Still, as he steps into the expansive entry for the Halcyon, he finds himself feeling something other than disgust: he feels strangely at home.

The area is bustling as ship workers and bellhops collect luggage and transfer it to droids, as greeters guide guests to check in areas and hand them keycards, as officers check passports and documentation against databases, all lit under the glow of thousands of lights, which reflect off polished durasteel and marble surfaces. Holo projections provide information about travel destinations and the cruise itself in hundreds of different tongues, while a massive projection of the captain glows a familiar blue and greets the boarding politicians.

Poe turns in awe, gazing at the dozens of porthole windows affording views of distant and nearby star clusters, at the navigational crew high above, checking maps and charting courses, and takes a deep, steadying breath in through his nose, squeezing his wife’s hand tight. The hum and thrall of the ship, with its thousands of moving parts and requisite workers, feels exactly like all the ships he’d served on during the Rebellion. He half-believes that if he closes his eyes and turns around, he’ll open them and see Leia there, giving orders and directing the workflow.

The memory sits on his heart, but instead of a heavy, lingering pain, it kindles a warm, growing fire: she lives on in him. She would be proud to see him carrying on the mantle, working to do what no one else has the skill, speech, or stones to do. She is never really gone. Never can be.

Instilled with strength and purpose, Poe looks to his wife, who is staring at the gargantuan hub of activity before her, almost taken aback by how bustling it is. He leans down and gently pecks her cheek, tugging her along and breaking her out of her trance. They’ve got places to be, things to do, royal engagements to avoid, after all. As they begin to move closer to what Poe believes is the reception desk, a Twi’lek in a sleek, almost military-looking white uniform steps in front of Poe and his wife, grinning from green ear to ear.

“Senator Dameron, Princess Dameron,” she greets, bowing at the waist respectfully, “I am Lyna’ame, and I’ll be directing you regarding your stay on the Halcyon. Thank you for honoring us with your patronage.”

“Uh, thank you for having us,” Poe stammers, unsure of how to conduct himself in such a position.

Lyna’ame looks up at him with a quizzical eye, but seems too well-trained to respond with anything more than a polite smile and a nod. She produces from the pocket of her grey-trimmed suit a pair of infochips, extending them towards Poe and his wife.

“You will be staying in the royal suite on Deck B, unit number eighteen,” Lyna’ame smiles. “These chips will act as your keys to the room and to any amenities you should wish to access, and will remind you of upcoming engagements or conferences you should be in attendance of.”

As if on cue, the small screens on the infochips light up and read “19:00: Senatorial Dinner In Ballroom One!” Poe blinks at it, then flashes Twi’lek a cordial but slightly cold smile, taking the chips from her hand and tucking them unceremoniously into his breast pocket.

“Alright, thanks. I think we can get it from here.”

She seems not to register his attempt to tie off the loop of the conversation, continuing anyway.

“You will also have access to all the facilities of the ship, including the swimming areas, dining areas, lounges, bars, activity centres, spas and--”

“I’ll check the brochure in the room,” Poe smiles, searching for an exit. “I appreciate it, but, uh, my wife is very tired--” --Poe nudges her with an elbow and she balks, then understands his intention and mimes a yawn, nodding sympathetically-- “--And I’d love to get her some rest before any hobnobbing, y’know?”

“Of course, your highness,” Lyna’ame says, again accompanied by a civil bow. “The elevators are to the left. Press your infochip to the pad and it will take you to your floor. Your luggage should already be in your room, and please,” she smiles. “Enjoy your cruise.”

Poe bows back, then leads his wife by the elbow to the elevators, where they tap their key card and the doors hiss open. As they board, just the two of them, Poe’s wife turns to face him and raises one eyebrow, haughty.

“Really threw me under the bus there, Poe,” she smirks. “‘Oh, my wife wants to leave this conversation because my wife is awkward and doesn’t know how to handle subordinate behavior from service workers’. Real nice.”

Rolling his eyes, Poe can’t help but smile, and instead of replying, drops his hand to the small of his wife’s back, grazing his fingers there for a moment before dipping slightly lower and--

She jumps, then giggles, hitting him with a shocked but not at all displeased expression.

“Did you just pinch my ass?”

“Maybe,” he smiles. “Why?”

“You just seemed so…” She touches his arm, searching for the right word, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “Severe, before. Lost.”

“Feeling better. Feeling… like I can do this, maybe. Or at least do what I need to do, even if it doesn’t look exactly like how everybody else might expect me to.”

At that she purses her lips and nods, and he can tell she’s happy for him: he’s not entirely out of the woods about this whole ‘galactic representative’ thing, and certainly not used to all the expectations that come with being the heavy head that wears the crown, but he’s going to be alright. At least, he feels like he is, at this moment, and that’s all that matters.

Poe finds himself allowing his smile to grow wider as he dips down and nuzzles her temple, teasing his lips over her ear, tempting and toying.

“I still hate the suit,” he whispers, sending her shivering, “And I don’t want to talk to these people like we’re all buddy-buddy--”

“--Acknowledged, Senator,” she teases, rubbing his arm in the way that lets him know she’s itching to get more handsy.

“But we’re gonna have a private room,” he continues, “And a lock on the door, and at least--” --He checks the infocard, which reads “17:05”-- “--About two hours before anybody’s gonna need us, so I say we shimmy out of these nice duds…”

Poe’s finger trails down the silky rivulets of her collarbones; he has to admit, he does find her massively attractive in this royal robing, but he figures it’ll be less hassle for both of them to assure he doesn’t get too rowdy while they’re wearing some of the best (and irreplaceably expensive) fineries in the galaxy, so he’ll have to bid her pretty little dress and luxurious cape adieu for their stateroom rendezvous. Not that he minds: the dress might be pretty, but the woman underneath is ten times more so. Besides, she can always put it back on again for the dinner, anyway.

“We go see what kind of minibar we’re looking at,” Poe teases, watching her roll her eyes, “Hop in the bath, and see where those two hours take us.”

“Mm, we’ll see,” she demures, patting his chest. He knows she likes to dance around it, never say anything too scandalous where someone else can hear, and he loves that; she extends the tension, making him wait for what he wants. He may not ever have been a patient man before, but she forces him to slow down, savor it, work for it. And that’s delicious.

The elevator doors slide open as Poe leads his wife out into the hall, kissing her jaw as he checks the suite numbers. They shuffle along, exchanging little pecks and touches in the graciously empty hallway (what would the other representatives think, she reminds him in a hushed tone as they pass rooms, if they saw the new prince of Alderaan and Senator for Yavin V hanging off his wife like a pubescent teen?) before arriving at suite eighteen. Poe fumbles in his breast pocket, keeping his lips planted on his wife’s neck, then slaps the infochip haphazardly against the door. It clicks open, and Poe doesn’t even bother to look inside: he just coaxes his wife in, and tumbles in after her.

The lights in the room slowly turn on automatically, rising from a low dim to a sunny brightness, illuminating white-panelled walls and a lush, wide bed, all the furniture sharply clean and sleekly modern, trimmed in shades of black and silver. A massive window shows the endless expanse of space beyond the double-layered transparisteel, and while Poe would normally be more inquisitive and peek around the room to admire it, he’s more than occupied as he pushes his face deeper in the warm, scented crook of his wife’s neck.

“Careful,” she warns as his hand starts to pet at the base of her head, eking dangerously close to the beginnings of her hair roots, “These braids took me hours. I don’t want to have to re-do them, Dameron”

“I get that,” he breathes heavily, “But you look really hot with messy hair and--”

“If we’re going to go to that dinner, I’m not going to go with my hair flying everywhere! I’ll look like a… well, you know!”

“Like a woman well-loved by her husband,” Poe teases, nipping at her jaw. “But, fine, we’ll skip the dinner, and I’ll just keep you all to myself. Nobody else has to see. In fact, I’d prefer they didn’t.”

His eyes glimmer with wolfish promise as he sets his wife down on the edge of the white-blanketed bed, staring at her as her skirts form pools of silver and blue. He’s serious: the summit dinner all but disappears from his mind as he looks at her; how beautiful she is. How elegant. So poised and pretty and his, all his, to love until all the suns swallow themselves and burn out. All these representatives won’t miss him at one measly, lousy dinner, right? Not when he has the love of his life to attend to, surely.

“What’s gotten into you?,” she giggles, kicking off one of her sophisticated shoes as she sits on the bed. “You’re acting like we’re on our honeymoon!”

Poe leans in and places his hands on either side of her hips, bumping his forehead to hers as he takes long, weighty breaths, feeling the heat radiate off of her.

“I just… This is a lot, right?”

“Mm,” she acquiesces.

“And you’re kind of… what I go back to when I’m in too deep. So, right now, all this summit stuff and the Senate and the council? I need that to take a backseat to me being with you. The person I love. And letting that be what guides me in what I need to do for… everybody else.”

She lets out a soft, appreciative “aw”, her eyes softening as she cups his cheek, and Poe leans into her hand, allowing a little lasciviousness to leak into his smile as he stares down at her.

“Plus, it’s kinda… you know, a little sexy, being somewhere so new and ritzy. I’m not used to this kind of stuff. That, and we barely got a honeymoon, if you remember--”

“Yeah,” she recalls, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose, clearly vexed by the memory, “I remember. The day after we got married, that First Order outpost tried to open fire and you were up and out of bed and back in deployment after less than twenty four hours of being a married man.”

“Duty never sleeps,” he shrugs. “But… We can make up for lost time here, on this big, shiny, fancy-ass ship, huh?”

Poe wiggles his eyebrows with playfully rapacious intent, sending his wife into a fit of good-natured laughs. He adores when she laughs; it sends his heart racing, every inch of him alight with the joy of knowing that her smiles are because of him, the sound of her voice bouncing up and down with glee all caused by some silly little thing he’s said or done. Unable to contain himself, Poe leans down and kisses her, cutting off the sounds of her laughter, a deep, satisfied groan emanating from his chest.

“God,” he rumbles as they part for a quick breath, “I haven’t gotten to do that all damn day.”

“It did feel really good,” she sighs, clasping her arms around his neck. She seems to take pause, etching his face into her memory with her eyes, then comes to a decision: Poe would recognize that resolute gleam in her expression anywhere. “Alright, we’re staying.”

“...You mean it?,” he chirps.

“Yep. You tell them your poor, defenseless wife is laid up ill and needs your constant and most doting attention,” she smiles, kissing the tip of his nose. “Then when you’re done calling the front desk, you come over here and you help me get out of this dress and into that bath you promised.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles, then catches himself. “I mean, yes, Princess.”

“Mm,” she beams, teasing him with a pinch on the thigh. “Much better.”

They share another deep, drawn-out kiss before Poe manages to wrest himself away from her and off to the side of the room with the comm built into the wall, but glances over at her as he taps at the screen to connect with the front desk. She grins coyly from the bed, kicking one leg out in a pseudo-sultry, semi-silly way from beneath her sumptuous gown. Poe can’t help but feel a swell of endearment.

As the call connects, Poe sighs dreamily to himself; if all else failed, at least he had her, and with her by his side, he was definitely going to enjoy a very, very pleasurable cruise.

[j0hn-deacons-perm]

Charcoal Dust

Female reader x Brian May

Word Count ~6,100. 

I had this fic sitting in my documents since August and re-reading it, I didn’t hate it. So I guess I’m posting it. A bit of a warning I suppose...it goes get slightly suggestive but not 18+..If you’re sensative to that sort of thing, maybe skip this one my dudes.

With the last flick of your eyeliner, you deem yourself ready to head out to the bar. Freddie wanted to let off some steam with finals and you couldn't help but to join in. The apartment you two share have been littered with projects and materials and he almost strangled you for not cleaning up your charcoal dust. With that being the straw which broke the camel's back, tonight is to just get shit faced and to have fun. At least Fred settled one a bar that isn't too much of a walk so you don't have to worry about driving. Grabbing your coat, you leave the complex and into the cold december night.

***

"Y/N, dearie, you're here! Finally the night can commence!"

Freddie runs to you and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

"The boys are here as well. Can't tell you how much work it took to get John out."

Your eyes settle on Deaky, already a bit drunk and waving at you with a grin. "Evenin' Y/N! How's it going?"

"Not as good as you from the looks of it. But I bet a couple drinks could fix that."

You turn to the bar and order your usual mix drink along with a round of shots for everyone. 

"Here's to having a good night amongst friends!"

"Cheers!"

Everyone downs their shot and you finally sit down, taking the empty spot next to Deaky. Roger and Brian seem to be in their own little world talking about something so you don't bother with that can of worms yet.

"Y/N, did you find a new model for your drawing yet?"

"Nope. That fucking Steven kid answered my ad, took my payment then just vanished. Won't answer the phone, haven't seen him around campus..I'm out like 80 quid and nothing to draw for my final."

"Ouch. What does it entail exactly?"

"I need to do a live nude model study."

Roger's ears seem to perk up with the mention of 'nude'.

"I can help you out with that, love."

Brian rolls his eyes and Freddie chuckles. 

"So, me buying you a shot doesn't get your attention but mentioning I need to draw a naked person does?"

"Well, yeah. You should know this by now."

"I thought alcohol and nudity were on the same tier of importance to you, Taylor."

"Close..but not quite."

You nod at him with a fake academic-like expression as you rub your chin.

"Right, so if anyone knows someone who would be down to model for me let me know."

"I just said I was!"

"Anyone but Roger."

"Oh! What about Brian, dear? He'd be a great model."

The man in question glares.

"Uh..Fred, I don't think so."

"Why ever the fuck not? I've seen you naked before, May. You'd be fantastic. Plus Y/N gets to see your cute little bottom and huge cock!"

His cheeks turn bright red.

"Absolutely not, Fred."

Freddie looks over to your face, laughing despite blushing profusely. He knows of your small crush on the guitarist and loves to relish in opportunities making you and Brian uncomfortable in hopes you two would actually do something. Much to his, and your disappointment, nothing ever happens.

"Well I would do it but I don't have the time in my schedule considering I'm going to be stuck in the art building working on my own shit. Now come on, don't subject her to Roger."

Brian looks over to you, finding you playing with a hem on your shirt, trying to distract yourself from the awkward conversation.

"Well we both know Bri's not going to do it, so when can I come over, love?"

With a slump of your shoulders, you face the blonde.

"It's not a sexual thing where I draw everything, you know. You're going to be in a pose you can hold for a long period of time while I focus on drawing mainly your prominent body landmarks like ribs, pelvis, and muscles along with bones."

"See, Bri? It's not a personal experience, she's just studying your anatomy. With how lanky you are, it'd be easy to see everything."

"I'll also pay you for your time. Might be a bit before I can get the money but you will be compensated. Also if it's too much for you, you can wear your underwear for most of it until I need to get a certain part."

He looks between you and Freddie, a sigh escapes his lips.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Freddie smirks at you and gives a wink before coming into to whisper in your ear.

"Just a heads up, I've seen him naked and you may have to draw three legs."

You turn bright red but can't help but to cackle at his comment. Brian rolls his eyes and says 'fucker' under his breath. 

*** A couple drinks turn to quite a few and talking with Brian ended up with the date, time and place for your drawing session. Now that three days have passed, the time arrives along with four knocks on the door. 

"Hey Y/N."

"Hey Bri, thank you so much again for doing this for me."

He looks around the living room and sees you've set up your workspace: an easel, one of the living room chairs and one of the end tables with your box of drawing utensils. He also looks at how it's pointed towards the sofa with a sheet draped on it. 

"How would you like me?"

"Comfortable. You'd probably be stuck in that spot for a while. I have pillows if you want 'em."

He nods and sits down on the sofa while you go towards the record player and pop on one of your favorite records.

"I like to work to music so hope you're okay listening to the Beatles for a few hours."

"Why would I complain about good music?"

You chuckle as you sit down in your spot, making any last minute adjustments to the easel's height. Turning your head to the sofa, you see him unbuckling his belt before slipping his shirt off. Back towards you. 

Freddie was right, he has a good figure to make this assignment easy for you. Despite trying to stay professional, it's hard to not check out your crush as he strips. When the pants start slipping off, you turn away, too shy to look anymore. 

He is your friend, Y/N...he is your friend who is helping you with a project. Don't make this weird..

But then you remember your roll of tape for the sheet so when it's break time, you won't lose the pose. 

Shit...

"Hey Bri, once you settle on a pose, would it be okay if I put some tape around you so we don't lose the pose after we take a break?"

"Yeah, that's okay. I also might take you up on that pillow offer."

"Sounds good, I'll be right back."

You smile as you get up and leave for your bedroom to grab him a couple pillows off your bed. When you walk back into the living room, you swear the air has shifted once you see him laying in his underwear on the couch, watching the record spin on the turn table. A knot forms in your stomach..

You're working on your final, you're working on your final, you're working on your final.....

You walk up towards him and hands him the pillows. He promptly adjusts them to fit his pose.

"This alright for your composition, Y/N?"

"Let me check."

You sit down back in your chair and look at what you can see. You can see many of the body's landmarks..ribs, collar bones, muscles, parts of the pelvis...but not the strongest for a good composition.

"The pose is fine but I'm going to move over a bit to get a more interesting angle of ya."

You scoot your set up closer towards the turntable, giving a more dynamic angle of your model.

"Alright, we're looking good. Just need to tape where you're at and we can get started."

Hands slightly shaking on the masking tape roll, you rip pieces off and place them where Brian's posed. It's easy to tell he's tense.

"Bri, you're welcome to chat during this if you want. And whenever you want to take a break to stretch out, do not hesitate to ask."

"Sounds good, love. I guess I'm ready when you are."

He's called you love before but now it seems a bit different...

HE IS JUST HELPING YOU ON YOUR FINAL PROJECT, STOP IT

You rub over your paper pad, sighing and grab your hard charcoal to get the initial lines and shapes in. You can see him closing his eyes once more marks land on your paper. His shoulders also slowly begin to become less tense. 

*** Two full albums later, Brian calls break time. You clean your hands off on your pants and set your charcoal back in its box next to you. Having the main structures done and angles correct, you feel good about the progress. 

"How's it coming along, love?"

"I think maybe another hour or so and we'll be good."

"Can I sneak a look or is it confidential?"

You nod your head for him to take a look, his presence now behind your back as he analyzes your work. Nerves become more apparent the longer he's silent. You're about to look over your shoulder until you hear him say

"I'm really liking it so far, Y/N. Fred's told us about your work and it's incredibly articulate. However it is odd knowing that's me on your paper."

You blush profusely at his compliment, even more so now that you realize he's extremely close to your body wearing just underwear. 

"Well how about I grab you a robe and I'll make us some coffee?"

"Sounds lovely to me, especially since seeing how you're fully clothed, I'm a bit vulnerable."

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable! Let's get that robe."

"I'm not uncomfortable, just a bit cold maybe."

Leaving for your room once again, you grab your robe. It might be a bit too short for the gentle giant in your living room but it's better than nothing.

"I'm surprised you didn't give me Fred's."

"You don't want it, trust me."

He laughs, tying the belt around his middle and follows you into the small kitchen to grab his favorite mug whenever he visits. The silence grows more comfortable as you hear the coffee drip into the small pot and another cabinet opens to grab the sugar. You open the fridge to grab the milk. Your pour the hot liquid as he adds the sugar to the two mugs, followed by the splash of milk you like in yours. Smiles meet each other and you two sit back in the living room, a new record begging to be played. 

"Want more Beatles or how about just some John? I have Plastic Ono Band and Imagine."

"Oh god, that's a decision isn't it?"

"It really is. I'm half tempted to just put Hard Day's Night on."

"Did you see that in theaters? The girls went absolutely mad."

"With that scene with John in the bath? I'm sure I still have hearing issues from that. It got even worse seeing Help."

"George bit?"

"George bit."

Laughs echoed amongst the walls, sharing knowing glances at how loud the shrieking was. 

"Have to love sort of shared traumatic experiences. But I'm intrigued, who is your favorite of the four?"

"The Beatles or Queen?"

A slight smirk dances across his lips.

"Beatles? When I was younger, Paul. In more recent years, has to be John. I really respect his political work and his solo albums are so personal and raw."

He nods at your answer, agreeing.

"But with you lot? No one. Don't tell Freddie that, he'll plant something in my bed."

He answers in a hearty laugh.

'It's not like I can say you before we get back to working on a naked drawing of you...'

*** With Lennon playing on the speakers and more charcoal on paper, you're back at it again. Brian somehow managed to get himself back into the same pose with one or two directions from you. Things are now going easier considering the drawing is now just filling in the blanks until you couldn't get one detail right due to it being covered by his underwear. The more you try to remember how the muscles and bone look, the more incorrect it looks to your eyes. The inevitable needs to happen.

"Hey Brian, I'm hating to ask this but uh...I can't get the lower abs to look right with the pelvis. Could you....takeyourunderwearoff."

The last part just rushed past your lips as fast as you could. Your cheeks are bright red, a tell tale sign being how hot your face just became. It's even worse when he arches his brow.

"What was that last part?"

You sigh deeply.

"Could you...take your underwear off so I can get your pelvis a bit better?"

"Oh...uh, yeah."

His cheeks probably match yours but you cover your eyes while he strips the last bit of cloth standing between him being completely exposed in front of you.  

"Alright Y/N, you can look now."

His nervous laughter is puntuated with your eyes opening again. While you have a clearer view of the muscles in question, you also have a clearer view of other things.

You now understand why it's called a happy trail. 

Correcting his angles once again, you start where you just left off. Only to have the record stop playing, meaning you had to stand up and change the music. Meaning probably a clear view of his, what Freddie called, 'his third leg'. Hands slightly shakey as they remove the vinyl and put it back in its respective sleeve. Fingers lead their way towards Revolver, your go-to homework album. Once the intro of Taxman plays, you make your way back to your seat. During which, your peripheral vision does you dirty. 

Fred wasn't entirely kidding. Dear god, Y/N, you're almost done just finish your damn project so Bri can go home and you can take a cold shower...

You sit back down and sigh, taking your charcoal and getting back to work, correcting any inaccuracies caused by his underwear being in the way and adding more to his figure. Side one is over far too soon, causing you to get up and be betrayed by your eyes once again.

At least now it's just adding a bit of definition to the head and small details. Taking the blunt end of your charcoal stick, you begin adding some hair to the drawing. The couple hairs on his chest, a gesture of pubic hair and some messy lines for the curls on top of his head. Staring at his face now, he peeks his eyes open and winks at you then smiles. 

"I thought you weren't going to draw my face?"

"Just a little something so it's not just a blank shape."

"Alright. Do you want my eyes open or closed?"

"Do what you want, Bri."

His eyes land on the legs of your easel, moving them around a bit to follow the smudges of paint and charcoal about. Your eyes trace along the angles of his face, adding them to the basic head shape you added during the beginning steps. Browbone, cheeks, nose, eyes, brows, and gesture of his slightly open mouth put down on paper as you mark it done. Looking at the lower right corner of your paper and taking your thin marker, you write your name, class session, semester, and model's first name. 

"Alright Bri, I think we're good to go. Want to come take a look?"

Standing up and putting your robe back on, he walks behind the chair. His eyes take in the final composition, from the pillows to his curls all the way down to how to managed to get the angle right on his feet. The sofa, while made of basic abstract shapes, make him look like he's properly weighed out on the cushions. 

"It's weird seeing me like that."

"I bet. Talking with some of the models outside of class, they tell me it takes some getting used to seeing shit like this."

"Seeing what others see in your naked body is very...daunting. I think you made me look too good to be honest."

"I just drew what I saw, May."

You look up behind you and catch him blushing, looking down at you while smiling.

"You are incredibly talented, Y/N. If you don't get an A, I'm taking personal offense with your instructor."

You blush hard at the compliment while laughing at his comment. 

"Honestly, I would too. You made a beautiful model, Bri. It was an honor to draw you."

Why did I just say that?..

He looks away, face looking shy. He takes compliments almost as bad as you. He sits down back on the sofa, looking at you.

"Now, you did say at the bar that I'd be compensated for my time."

"That I did."

You start to pack away your drawing supplies before digging a can of hairspray out of your backpack. Spraying a light coat over your drawing, you let it dry before packing it away for safe keeping.

 His eyes watch you dismantle your workspace, showing him something you've done nearly a hundred times over. Little did you know, seeing you in your element like this made his heart swell. Brian knew you were an art student but never saw you at work. Little did he know, yours did the same when you saw him at practice or on stage. After cleaning up and putting furniture back in their right spots, you sit down in the chair to only find Brian patting the cushion next to him. Giving him a fake glare, you sit next to him. 

"I've been thinking of payment and would it just be fine if we ordered some take away and hung out? I'd feel bad taking your money."

"You sure? I'd feel bad not compensating you for your time."

"Y/N, I laid on your couch, chatted with you and listened to my favorite music. Yeah it was a bit weird considering I take a girl out before she sees me naked but hey."

You laugh nervously at his joke, blushing for probably the 53rd time that night.

"I'll get dressed and we'll head out, that good for you?"

"Yeah. I need to change clothes anyway."

"Why? You look cute covered in charcoal."

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest like a looney toons character. You and the guys are used to calling eachother cute or handsome but something about him being just about naked underneath your robe after drawing him for nearly two hours makes your heart race at a dangerous pace. 

"Let's get ready, hmm?"

He stands up, clothes in tow as he walks to the bathroom. The sound of the door closing brings you back to the moment. Grabbing your pillows and sheet off the couch, you leave for your room. The slight smell of him lingering on the fabric fills your nostrils as you throw it towards your laundry basket. 

"Goddammit...don't get your hopes up. It's not like this is a date, Y/N..." You whisper under your breath. 

Grabbing the clothes you wore earlier today, you get dressed and apply a little extra deodarant and perfume. By the time you've put your shoes on and out of your room, he's slipping his shoes on. Even in mid-December, he's wearing his clogs. He hears your laughter from across the room.

"What's so funny?"

"Bri, it's Christmas in nearly two weeks and you're wearing clogs? If you slip on ice thanks to those things, I’m not helping you up."

"It hasn’t snowed yet, though! Have to wear them while there's still time. Besides, look who's bloody talking wearing canvas sneakers in the cold."

"At least my entire foot is in the shoe."

"That's it, I'm not letting you borrow my scarf if it's still windy. Not with that attitude."

You smack his arm and grab your purse off the coat rack. Locking the door behind you is the last thing before you two leave for any place that is still serving food at this hour. 

***

Only getting as far as a corner store, you two buy a couple drinks then enough snacks to constitute a meal. The walk back to the apartment was on the quiet side, Brian looking up to the sky every few blocks in a vain attempt to see any stars that would accompany the moon shining that night. Not much for viewing besides the waxing moon hanging above your heads, hundreds of thousands miles away. 

"Hey Bri?"

His features seem almost guilty, being caught in the act but he smiles at you.

"Would it be possible for you to teach me some things about what's up there? Fred's showed me some astrology stuff but it would be kinda cool seeing the constellations and what makes them, y'know?"

"I'd just talk your ear off."

"Can't be too bad, I deal with that already."

You wink as he rolls his eyes. 

"But I'm serious, I want to know a little bit about what you study in uni. Especially since we go to different schools, it'd be interesting seeing another side of academics that isn't just color theory or how to mathematically draw cylinders."

"How do you mathematically draw cylinders?"

"It's all about angles and where it sits in space, mostly. Getting that perspective correct. After enough practice I guess you can just sort of see it rather than drawing out all these different grids and lines."

"Does that tie in with drawing people?...That's probably a stupid question of course it does."

"It does but with that, you also need to keep in mind where things in the body are. In our class we also have to do these...sculpting lessons. We're given half a skeleton on a stand and we sculpt the muscles using clay."

He nods, listening to you talk about your coursework and your subject matters from basics to more focused studies. Once back to your apartment, you find Freddie has returned from the art building. The noises of you and Brian taking off shoes and coats made him pop his head around the wall.

"Y/N, lovie, how did your drawing session go?"

"Rather well! Want to see it?"

"Well of course, dear!"

You grab your and Brian's bags from the corner store and place it on the kitchen counter before heading over to your drawing pad, propped up against your chair. Nerves arise as you watch his eyes gaze over your work, the smell of the hairspray you used seal in the charcoal floating to your nostrils. 

"Fucking hell, this is brilliant. If you get a bad mark I'm visiting your professor during office hours and giving them a piece of my mind."

He looks down Brian's legs on the paper, your careful contour lines elegantly outlining the muscles. 

"I think you forgot a leg, though."

Brian's rolls his eyes as Fred's cackle fills the room. You slap the sketchpad closed and return it to it's spot next to your school bag. A sympathetic look is aimed towards your model. 

"Come on you two, lighten up. How about a game of Scrabble, hmm?"

"It is getting a little late, Fred, and Brian has to get back to his place."

"He knows he's welcome to crash on the couch if he wants."

The man in question looks between you two, biting his lip in thought.

"I wouldn't mind crashing here tonight. I'm sure Roger wouldn't mind the flat to himself."

"Then it's settled. You old ladies get your food out of the kitchen and we start this game."

What wasn't expected was Brian winning with such a lead. You could've sworn you've seen Fred's eyes glow red as he told the curly haired man to get out of his home for disrepecting him that severely. He went to bed infuriated as he left you two out in the living room to watch TV. 

"You sure you want to spend the rest of your Friday night here?"

"It's technically Saturday morning now."

"Smart ass."

He smiles and slowly leans towards you on the sofa, his warmth sneaking up the arm closest to him. 

"Hey Bri?"

He hums in response, eyes not leaving the program painting the screen.

"I never really properly thanked you for helping me with my assignment. You honestly saved my grade modeling for me."

He turns his head to face you, eyes looking at yours illuminated by the screen's light.

"You're more than welcome, love. It was interesting watching you work. You have this little face you make when you're really concentrated."

"Where I don't blink and my mouth is partially open? That's my focusing amphibian look."

He chuckles.

"Roger does the same thing but that's his confused look."

"I thought his confused face was this.."

You imitate the face you've seen many times during your homework sessions with the boys. Also when he tries to understand what Fred wants to do add extra flair to shows or songs.

"No, you're right. That's the one." He laughs. 

Comfortable silence floats around the air as you two continue watching telly. Thirty meants turn into 90 as the episodes of various shows play before you. Slight comments here and there said but it wasn't until Brian laid his head on top of your head that something was really spoken. 

"I have a question."

"Care to share with the class, May?"

You can feel his cheeks stretch out with a slight smile.

"Would you think less of me if I put my studies on hold when, or even if the band gets bigger? I know we only have one album out at the minute but I've thought about it and..."

Patting his knee, you spoke.

"I could never think less of you for persuing something like that. You and the guys have worked your asses off and if, no, when your hardwork pays off, grab those opportunities. You earned any success that comes your way."

He moves his head to look directly into your eyes.

"Knowing you, you'll eventually get your PhD but sometimes life throws you a curveball and you have to just roll with what it gives you. If it's Queen, then see it through."

Surprise washes over you as he gives you a hug, enveloping you in his arms tightly as his face creates a home in the crook of your neck. This breath along your skin giving away to goosebumps. 

"I've been thinking about this for weeks and um...."

"Did you already drop out, Bri?"

"No, no..."

"Uh huh..." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Seriously, Y/N, I haven't dropped out of uni. I've been thinking about...."

You pull away and look at his eyes directly, cheeks flushed even in the low light of the living room. 

"What is it?"

He sighs, looking down at his lap.

"You."

Eyes going wide, you look at anything but him. The stray floaty in the air, the reflection of light as a car drives past your flat, the one stray strand of yarn or whatever it is sticking out of the rug on the floor. 

"I'm not saying this because you drew me naked and I'm feeling obligated to but tonight made me realize something."

Your eyes finally focusing on your hands, fingernails picking at cuticles. 

"If this does become something larger than life, I don't want to leave you behind. When Freddie introduced us to you last year, there was something about you I couldn't shake off. I wasn't sure what it was the chalk pastel dust you were covered in or something else."

You smile at his words but your heart doesn't lighten up the speed at the rate it's beating. When it comes loose, it's going to skyrocket across the English channel.

"But now actually getting to know you over time and tonight made me come to the conclusion that....I certainly have feelings for you and I don't know what you want to do with that information."

Your fingers stop picking at a loose bit of skin on the side of your nail and you swear your heart just stopped in your chest. Eyes wide, you stare at him. Mouth agape, not knowing what to say other than just "Bri..."

"I can see I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. Maybe I should head ho-"

As he begins to stand up, you grab his wrist and pull him right back down towards your side. 

"Meeting you was one of the most profound days in my life, Bri. You...fuck,...I'm not a wordsmith and I'm nervous as all hell right now."

He smiles ever so slightly but his leg bounces with such vigor you wouldn't be surprised if your downstairs neighbor complained to the landlord tomorrow.

"And now hearing you may have feelings for me? Like...how do I even process this when it's something I've been wanting to hear for almost a year?"

It's now his turn for his eyes to buldge open in shock.

"When you first talked to me about astrophysics and I saw your entire demeanor light up with such passion, my heart damn near stopped. I couldn't focus on anything else but you. Even when you're just relaxed I feel like that. You're breathtaking and I'm pretty sure I went comotose and had a lucid dream seeing you perform with the boys for the first time."

He smiles, eyes looking directly into yours as your mouth just vomits out any word you promised to never let out.

"I've fallen for you so hard. I love your smile and laugh. I love the slope of your nose. I love that you've let your hair be curly because let's be real, you looked real questionable when you straightened it."

He laughs and you can tell his cheeks are heating up.

"I love that little noise you make when you find something interesting in your textbooks and your hums when you're thinking of a new song and your little eyerolls at the boys when they're being dumbasses and your sense of humor and just......fuck, look at you! You're so fucking handsome and that's even with the clogs!"

He grabs your hands, rubbing his thumbs against the knuckles. His smile shining so bright even with the low light from the television that's now taken a backside seat of your conversation. He looks down at your entertwined hands.

"Calling you a friend and wanting to see you has gotten me out of bed so many days Y/N, I've lost count. I can't even imagine if you'd be more than a friend to me but I guess we can find out."

Your smile has extended to lengths you didn't know possible. Letting go of his hands, you wrap your arms around him instead.

"I forgot to say this, but I also love your hugs."

A chuckle escapes his chest and he holds you tighter, a kiss lands on your cheek. Time goes by as shows flash before your eyes, eventually leading to you falling asleep in his arms with him not too far behind.

*** Hours pass before you awake, head laying on his lap and knees tucked in. Sitting up, you find him using the arm rest as his pillow, arms crossed underneath his face. He looks so peaceful and you don't want to take him up but you want to sleep in your bed. 

Dare you ask if he wants to join you?

It'll just be us sleeping together in the same bed and maybe cuddles...?

You brush his curls away from his face, tucking what you can behind his ear as you shake him gently. 

"Hey Brian..?"

He doesn't stir, contemplating on just his carrying his lanky ass to your room. 

"Bri.. wake up, hon. Come on."

You continue rubbing his upper arm until he stirs awake, opening his eyes and squinting at the screen's light.

"...What time is it?"

"Late. Would you want to sleep on the couch or my bed?"

"I'm fine out here, I don't want to take your bed from you."

You smile and chuckly slightly.

"I mean share the bed with me."

He smiles at the idea but eyes are shy.

"I'd like that."

You two stand up, him shutting up the TV and you leading the way to your room with his hand in yours. Navigating the small hallway at night lead to him bumping into you twice, and him saying apologies but you could not care less.

Once in your room and switching on the light, he's greeted to your own personal space. He can see canvases with studio projects painted on them under your bed, posters littering your walls. Some local band shows you've attended, a Queen one catching his interest. His eyes also catch your Beatles poster, the one from their White Album. He also sees the pillow he used earlier that day when he was modeling along with the robe tossed into the corner with the rest of your dirty laundry.

"I think I might have a pair of pants you could wear unless you're not a pants to bed kind of guy."

"No pants is what I normally go for but if you're uncomfortable with that I ca-"

"It's fine with me, just no funny business, May."

"Are cuddles out of the equation?"

"I sure as hell hope not."

He smiles and removes his necklaces, placing them next to your sketchbooks on top of the small desk next to the bed. You change into sleep shorts as he takes his trousers off. 

Never thought I'd see that twice today.

Shutting off the light and climbing into bed, he goes first, leaving you in your usual spot. Fluffing up the pillows and adjusting the blankets now done, He wraps you in his arms almost immediately, lips kissing your cheek gently.

"You have enough pillows, Bri?"

"Yes. Thank you, love."

"Want me to grab another blanket?"

He laughs gently, kissing your face one last time.

"I'm more than okay."

You turn around to face him head on, able to make out where his eyes are looking. Fingers playing with one curl, eventually leading to caressing the side of his face. Thumb tracing over one of his cheekbones.

"You're so handsome, Bri."

"Ever look at yourself?"

"Do you always kiss ass?"

"Not until the 3rd date."

You slap his arm, laughing.

"I guess with that comment I won't give you a kiss goodnight."

His face contorts in fake hurt. It's wiped off as soon as you bring your lips to his, fingers gently caressing his jaw as you kiss him. Almost as fast as it happened, it stopped. Smiles painting both your faces.

"Goodnight Y/N."

"Goodnight Bri."

Turning back around, you scoot closer to him. Arms around your waist and face tucked near your shoulder, you two fall asleep. 

*** You wake up before him. His arms are still wrapped around your middle and your legs entangled with one anothers. Your bladder urging you out of the warm confines of your bed, you carefully move out of his grasp to not awake him. Mission was successful as you close the door behind you, hearing Freddie in the kitchen as you walk to the bathroom. After giving yourself a pep talk while washing you hands, you face your roommate, face giving you a smirk.

"Y/N....I saw his god awful shoes by the door but he wasn't on the couch. Please tell me the details, darling!"

"Nothing really happened, Fred! We ended up talking after you went to bed and he sort of told me he had feelings for me and we passed out on the couch."

"He finally told you? About fucking time! You have no idea how much Roger got on his case. Even Deaky was begging him to shut up and ask you out. 'Oh how is Y/N doing? Is she free sometime soon, Fred? What should I get her for Christmas? What does she like? Do you think she likes me?'....every practice Y/N..every practice."

"At least I finally got around to it, Freddie."

He wrapped his arms around you, voice heavy with sleep.

"Now I get to annoy you about her even more now that we're dating."

Brian kisses your neck as Freddie pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Please don't subject us to that. We've suffered enough, dear."

***

aaaay, it’s done! Tbh, I got the idea for this fic after looking through some of my life drawing sketches. Also, a tip with charcoal or chalk pastel drawings from an art student...use hair spray. It’s cheaper than fixitive spray, works just as well, doesn’t affect the colors in chalk pastels, and doesn’t harm your lungs with the fumes (not nearly as badly, anyway). Besides that, thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging, etc 💖💖

[queenofbaws]

dear hightown funk 2022 author/artist...

oooooh baby, it’s that time of year again ;P

well hello there! first off, let it be known that i’m so incredibly psyched to see whatever it is you come up with, so THANK YOU in advance!!

tl;dr: i will love whatever idea you have and whatever you create/put out into the universe will be fantastic. i know this. i feel it in my heart. thank you for doing the lord’s work and adding more varric/hawke to the world ;P

hawke: i am a simple woman of simple tastes, i see purple f!hawke and i go hearteyes like a cartoon wolf. if you’re someone who likes to mix purple with red/blue, by all means, go for it! as long as the snarky banter is there, i am S O L D. rogue is my fav, but i will just as happily take mage or warrior, and i greatly, greatly prefer pro-mage hawke (read: supportive of anders and his actions), but HOW pro-mage you wanna go is, again, totally up to you!

other ships/characters: legit, i am down to clown with any side ships. any of ‘em. i am an equal opportunity shipper here, and i puh-romise, if you want to throw other ships in there, i’ll be pleased as punch no matter who they are :) as for other characters, again, whoever you’re comfy with!

prompt stuff: i know from personal experience that when /i’m/ writing, sometimes less of a prompt is more, so i went a little vague in my requests for that reason. like i said above, i’m super excited to see how the spirit moves you, so to speak, but if you want a little more than my wishy-washy descriptions, let’s do it!

halamshiral hijinx: i don’t know what it is about me as a person, but the idea of the inquisition having to bring hawke along to the winter palace during dai just gets me every goddamn time. hawke and varric having to deal with orlesians is absolutely one of my favorite subgenres of fic. sneaking off to the gardens for some privacy? snickering at the ugly-ass inquisition uniforms behind the others’ backs? going around making up stories about their exploits to any noble who won’t leave them alone? ‘oh man we’re at this FANCY BALL, sure would be a bummer if someone attacked and we had to fight in our FANCY CLOTHES’??? it’s all. so. good. 

skyhold shenanigans: for being drafted into the inquisition, we sure don’t see a lot of hawke in skyhold, huh? legit, anything about hawke and varric’s goings-on behind the scenes is so, so good by me. i’d love to see your take on their reunion, or varric making the rounds to introduce hawke to the inq, them hanging out at the herald’s rest and thinking about the good ol’ days at the hanged man…whatever comes to mind!

THAT self-indulgent scene: look. i know how it goes. there’s something you’ve been wanting to write/draw/create for these two that you turn over and over in your head like a rotisserie chicken for hours on end, but for whatever reason, you just haven’t been able to figure out where/how to use it, or you haven’t found the right excuse to put it into the universe. THAT’S what i’m after, here ;P this prompt is a total and complete free space - i just wanna see what you do with it!!

for artists: hi, hello!!! like i said on the form, default marian hawke is SO great by me - if you want to give her longer hair, i am DOUBLY down, but again, as is the repeating message throughout…well, most of this, whatever you’re most comfortable with is more than fine by me!!!

what i’m into: pretty much…everything, which like…i HOPE helps you, haha! again with the vagueries, i know, i know…angst with a happy ending is a huge weakness of mine, love it, love it…as is friends to lovers. all the ol’ cliches get me in a big way, the cheesier the better: oh no, there’s only one bed!; guess we better fake a relationship for [insert reason]; you keep jokingly flirting with me but…OH NO I’M INTO IT. all the ol’ gems.

please avoid: my squicks are few and far between, but full-out abuse of any sort (physical/emotional/sexual) is a heavy pass from me, please and thanks. similarly, it’d be greatly appreciated if there wasn’t a lot of pro-chantry stuff included.

again, thanks so much, i’m so excited to see what you come up with!!! :)

[earlysunsetsoverambrose]

Kodachrome (4/5)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader 

Warning: Cursing

You crawled back up into the house from the trapdoor in the office. It was around two in the afternoon nearing the absolute hottest, most miserable time of the day. You made your way to the kitchen to get started on making some lemonade. You made sweet tea yesterday, so it could sit overnight. You figured the boys would enjoy a cool drink with all the heat. You got out the ingredients you bought on your last trip into town.

You juiced the lemons and dumped the sugar straight in and let it dissolve. After adding some water, you put it in the refrigerator to sit for a while so it would hopefully be cold by the time the boys came home. You tossed the peels in the overflowing trashcan only for them to roll right back onto the floor. You sighed, knowing you’d put off taking out the trash for too long now. You stuffed the peels back in and hoisted the bag out and tied it off, hauling it towards the cans out by the side of the house.

You lifted the lid of the trash can as you were about to toss the bag in without a second thought, but a movement from the corner of your eyes stopped you. You looked to your right to spot something scurrying into a beat-up cardboard box with what sounded like a sneeze. You stared at the box for another moment before it rustled again. You let out an involuntary shriek, dropping the lid and the garbage bag as you practically leapt up onto some old milk crates. Perhaps it was an overreaction, but you had no idea what was creeping around while you were minding your own business. You craned your neck to look in the box, but you couldn’t see anything. You let out a sigh as your heart rate slowed once more.

“What’re ya doin’ up on them crates for, Y/N? Is the floor lava or somethin’?” a familiar drawl called out to you, drawing closer. You looked up to see Lester happily making his way toward you with a goofy grin lighting up his face.

“No!” you said as you felt heat rising to your cheeks as you knew how childish you’d sound when you explained to him that you were startled by a small animal and sought the safety of the milk crates, “It so happens as soon as you were walking up I got jump-scared by something hiding in that box over there and I may have overreacted a tad.”

“Aw, that’s nothin’ to be ashamed of. Animals can be sneaky sons-a-bitches at the worst of times. I once near died choking on chili when a rat ran across my boot a few years back.” Lester said supportively.

“I appreciate your understanding. It’s probably nothing.” You said as you moved to step off of the creates.

“Was it this box, here?” Lester asked moving toward the cardboard box without a second thought.

“Yeah, but be careful, we don’t know what’s in there.” You said quickly, gesturing for him to leave it. Lester got on all fours in front of the box and tilted his head to peer inside, “Lester!”

“Well, what’ve we got here? What’re ya doin’ all by your lonesome?” Lester cooed as he haphazardly reached his arm into the box and pulled out a small baby opossum, “Looks like this little girl got left behind?”

“Oh my god, you just scooped it up, like it was nothing!” you said equal parts horrified and amazed.

“I seen plenty of these guys runnin’ around. Ya get used to ‘em eventually.” He said as he held a firm grip on the squirming opossum, so it didn’t scurry off.

“Shouldn’t you at least have gloves or something?” you asked.

“Probably, but this one ain’t gonna hurt me. Are ya?” Lester asked fondly as he addressed the baby in his hands, “You’re too little to hurt a fly, ain’t ya?”

“So, what do we do now? Do we let it go?” you asked, completely clueless on how to rescue a baby opossum.

“Ya kiddin’? We’re eatin’ good tonight! Ever had opossum stew?” Lester said, holding the baby out to you.

“Lester Sinclair, you take it back!” you chastised, with a horrified expression and a light swat to his arm.

“I’m only foolin’, I wouldn’t do that!” Lester said through a belly laugh, “’Sides, she’s too little for that anyway.”

“Then what are we actually going to do?” you asked

“Well, she’s too small to be on her own, but it don’t look like her mama’s anywhere to be found. And I don’t hear any other babies neither.” Lester said as he scanned the area and listened close for any sound, “If she’s here by herself, her mom’s not comin’ back for her.”

“That’s really sad.” You said sympathetically, suddenly feeling a deep emotional bond with the baby that just scared the daylights out of you, “What happens now?”

“I’ll drive her to the animal rescue in town, it’s ‘bout an hour out. If I leave now, I can make it ‘fore they close.” Lester said simply.

“Can I go with you?” You asked, surprising him with your request.

“Well, sure ya can. It’s kind of a long ride there and back, ya sure ya wanna go?” Lester asked.

“Yeah, I know I’m not really any help in this situation, but I want to see this through.” You said excitedly.

“Fine by me!” He said with his classic, toothy grin, “Wanna help me find a box to put her in, so we can head out?”

“Sure!” you answered. As the two of you turned to go into the house you asked, “How’d get to know so much about opossum rescue?”

“Ya wind up meeting a lotta animals that need help, doin’ what I do. Sometimes it’s a relief to find somethin’ that’s still kickin’.” Lester said, “I know it’s rotten bein’ left behind, all alone. Most of the ones I find don’t got no one to look after ‘em, so I try to do what I can.” You felt your heart twist at Lester’s words. He had such a lonely childhood; it was no wonder he felt so much empathy for creatures that just needed someone on their side.  

“You’d make a great vet.” You said

“Ya think?” Lester asked, flattered.

“I know.” You answered, “You’ve got a way with animals.”

The two of you went back into the house with the baby opossum still in Lester’s hold. Bo would kill you both if he ever found out you brought her into the house, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. You found an old shoebox and punched some holes in the top and grabbed some rubber bands from the office before meeting Lester in the kitchen. He was using his free hand to soak up a dishtowel to microwave to make a makeshift heating pad.

“I’ve got the box!” You said, placing it on the counter with the lid and rubber bands.

“Great! I’m almost done over here too.” Lester responded, setting the time of the microwave. “Hear that, won’t be long, now.” He said to the baby opossum, lightly scratching her head. It was ridiculously adorable how nurturing and careful Lester was being. The baby opossum was remarkably calm in his grasp, comfortable even. You picked up your camera from where you left it on the kitchen table and took a quick snapshot of the two of them, their attention trained on one another. Lester looked up at the sound of the click and perked up, “Nifty camera! Where’d ya get that?”

“It was just sitting in the warehouse. I’ve been taking pictures to pass the time, but also because I found an old photo album that was pretty much empty and I wanted to try and fill it.” You said as you placed your third picture in your back pocket.

“Well, I think that’s real nice of ya.” Lester said in awe of your new project. You knew you wouldn’t have to debate with Lester about the importance of photos, unlike his brothers. He was always very supportive and interested when it came to whatever it was you were doing. “I wish I had some pictures.”

“I bet.” You said as your smile faltered for a millisecond, remembering Lester wasn’t in any of the photos you found. You moved toward the microwave and put the now warm towel in a plastic bag and into one side of the shoe box. You put another towel over that and Lester placed the baby opossum in her temporary bed.

“I used to wish I had a picture or two of my parents after they died. Or at least one of me and my brothers to take with me to that other family. But I know my folks were busy, with Bo and Vinny and all.” Lester admitted with a small sigh. He tried to make light of the bleak memory, “I’m frankly surprised I recognized ‘em when they showed up lookin’ for me.”

“Well, I plan on taking a lot of photos. So many in fact, you’ll never forget anything ever again. You can keep the one I just took after it develops if you want.” You offered, hoping it gave him some form of optimism.

“I’d like that! Thanks, Y/N!” Lester said with a smile that lit up his warm, brown eyes. He secured the rubber bands on the shoebox, “Now, let’s get goin’! No time to waste!”

You both went out to Lester’s truck and took off down the road with the boxed baby opossum sitting between you. You were at the animal rescue center in no time. Passing the time with Lester was always so easy since talking to him was a breeze. There was no shortage of conversation topics with him. You even managed to take a few more pictures of each other along the way. On your way back towards Ambrose, you flipped through the pictures you and Lester had taken. You both looked so happy and carefree with the windows rolled down, the wind rustling your hair. You smiled to yourself, embracing the photos close to you. Lester was certainly right. There was no time to waste.