#SO I SLAMMED THAT OUT AND CONKED

[pencil-n-pen]

HANDLE WITH CARE

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hotch x fem! reader

masterlist | kofi

summary: spending the night at aaron’s usually puts you at ease, but not tonight. A broken mug brings up old memories, but he still has a way of soothing away old hurts.

cw: implied/referenced past abuse

a/n: honestly idk i just wanted to write hotch comfort. this has been in my drafts since like day 1 of this acc

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⊹ .

It’s really stupid, in hindsight.

In the moment though, it was really, really scary.

It was late. This is mistake number one.

You were trying to quietly make tea and whatever odd hour it was. You can’t check the oven timer. It just keeps flashing 12:00.

Making tea quietly is hard, though. Every sound seems to echo and all the shadows seem to crawl. You’re this close to closing the living room curtains you can see from the corner of your eye. You don’t, though. Not being able to see would be worse.

Anyway. You’re trying to make tea quietly. You’re staying over at Hotch’s —Aaron’s, as he insists you call him when you’re alone— Jack is away at a sleepover. It’s just the two of you.

You couldn’t sleep. Usually, being with Hotch is the strongest sleep aid in the world. You tend to conk out the second your arms find his in bed.

But not tonight.

Tonight you slept in fitful bursts. Your skin prickled and crawled with restless anticipation- of what, you’re not sure.

Not wanting to disturb his sleep on such a rare day off, you got up. Tried to do what you did when you had nights like these before him. Only watching tv is too loud and you don’t have any books here.

Thus: tea.

It started raining a little while after you got up. The pattering of the droplets against the roof and the windows helps drown out the racket you’re making.

You’re not really making a racket, you tell yourself. It just sounds like you are because it’s night. This would all sound normal in the daylight.

It’s the mantra that keeps you going on nights like these. You’ll feel normal in the daylight. It’ll go away in the daylight. You won’t feel so haunted in the daylight.

In the daylight, in the daylight, in the daylight.

You get lost in your thoughts. It happens fairly often on nights like these.

Only Aaron’s stove is newer than yours. It heats up faster.

The teapot lets out a terrible, wailing hiss, shattering the fragile silence.

You lunge for the kettle, hands moving too quickly and too clumsily to move it off the burner. Your fingers slip. The side of the kettle slams into your forearm, and you don’t quite manage to stamp down the pained yelp that rips its way from your throat the second the searing pain registers.

Your nervous system reacts before you do. It jerks your arm to the right, away from the kettle.

And into your empty mug.

You watch in horrified slow-motion as the cup is swiped off the counter, falling to the floor in an explosion of porcelain.

Your arm is screaming in pain. There is boiling water and a hot tea kettle on the floor. There are shards of mug everywhere.

You hear a thump. The creak of a door opening that signifies Aaron coming out of the bedroom, Aaron being awake, Aaron coming to you.

For a moment, your brain just… catches. Sort of like it gets stuck in this web of fear-induced indecision.

The footsteps sound rushed. They come closer.

To compensate for the momentary freeze, your brain kicks into its highest gear.

You drop to your knees on the floor of the kitchen so quickly they crack on the linoleum. You can’t tell if the sting is from the fall or the boiling water. Would it still be hot? Is it still hot?

The footsteps stop. You scramble to get a hold of the pieces of the mug, shaking fingers grabbing, grabbing, grabbing. They’re clutched tight in your palm when you speak, words rushed and tumbling out of your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, please go to bed, I’ll clean this all up—“

A hand reaches out for yours and you flinch. Not a full body one. Just like what happened with the burn. Your nervous system reacts before your brain can process. Takes your hand away from the threat.

Only the hand stills. Stops, right where it is, and your entire body feels funny, and something doesn’t seem right.

Then you stop too. You don’t move. You don’t grab more pieces of the mug, but you don’t drop the ones you have either. Your knees are throbbing. Your arm is burning, stabs of stinging pain pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

The hand retreats and the person crouches down, and you recognize those pajama pants, that hand, those feet.

“Honey?”

You keep your eyes trained on the mess. On the wreckage.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks over the words.

“Shh,” He hums, and the hand reaches out again, slower, closes over your wrist and turns your hand over. A second hand pries your fingers apart and gently shakes your hand, the mug shards dropping to the floor, tinged scarlet. They mix with the spilled water, washing the kitchen floor a kaleidoscope of linoleum and sharp edges and pinky-red water.

He gently pulls you up to your feet, strong arm going around your waist. It doesn’t cage you, doesn’t box you in. Another hand turns your head away from the kitchen floor and all at once a switch flicks in your brain, and you remember. Where you are, who you’re with.

If Aaron notices your sharp intake of breath, he doesn’t say anything. He leads you to the bathroom, sits you on the toilet lid, and pulls out the extensive first aid kit he keeps under the sink.

“Can I see your arm?”

You hold it out to him, looking at his face only when he’s not looking at you.

He doesn’t look mad. You still have the vague urge to run.

He examines it carefully. “It’s only first degree, but it’s fairly big. We’ll need to run it under cool water for at least ten minutes, and then apply some burn cream and bandage it.”

He’s telling you exactly what he’s going to do. Talking you through all the steps. So you won’t be caught off guard by anything.

“Sweetheart,” He crouches down in front of you again, and you feel bad for his knees, “I’m going to need some sort of confirmation.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” Your voice is raw, “I think I bruised my knees when I— when I fell.”

Your pajamas consist of an oversized shirt —one of his— and a pair of pajama shorts. It’s helpful because he doesn’t have to roll up any pant legs to check your knees. It’s unhelpful because in the adrenaline crash, the bathroom is cold, and so is the toilet lid.

Your shivers of fear are replaced with ones of cold. A small but marked improvement.

He examines your knees, thumbs brushing deftly over the skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Looks like you might’ve cut one of them on one of the pieces. It’s not too big, though. Better than your hands.”

You wince at the mention.

He stands, pulling you up with him.

“What hurts the worst?”

“Burn.”

“We’ll take care of it first.”

He turns the sink tap on, checking and double checking the temperature is to his approval before gently guiding your arm under the water. It stings on first contact, and you bite your lip through the pain. You’re sure you’ve made enough noise for the night. The pain mellows, relief following hot on its heels.

Aaron stands behind you, his presence a solid weight. One hand holds your arm in place under the water, the other hovers over the faucet, ready to make any adjustments to the temperature at your word.

You don’t make any.

You’re tired, abruptly. Your hand still stings and your knees ache, but without the sharp stabbing of the pain in your arm, the exhaustion of the past five minutes rushes into you all at once and you sag, like a puppet with its strings cut.

Aaron catches you, hand over the faucet leaving to place a steady hand on your waist.

“You’re not going to hit me. Or yell at me.”

He presses his face into the back of your neck, not so much as kissing your nape as just pressing his lips against the skin there.

“I’m not.”

“I know that,” you say, going for confident but tripping and falling into desperate, “I know that. I was just. I forgot. In the moment, and I got scared.”

The hand on your waist squeezes once.

“I was scared too, you know.”

“Why?”

“Because you were scared,” You can feel his chest vibrate as he speaks, “And you were hurt. And for just a moment, I didn’t know how to help you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing to be sorry for. I was scared for you.”

“I know, I’m just. I know how rare days off are for you, and I was trying to be quiet, so you could sleep but I—“

“Hey, hey. Slow down. Don’t work yourself up.”

He moves your arm back and forth under the water, slowly working the angles of the burn so it all gets evenly cooled.

“Sorry,” You say again, both for lack of anything else to say and just to make sure he knows that you are. Guilt pulses and pounds to the same beat as your heart, to the same rhythm as the pain in your knees and your hands.

“I know you are,” He murmurs, voice a gentle wash of concern and something tender. He always knows just the right thing to say, especially when you’re like this. “But you don’t have to be. I’m not upset.”

“I know,” You answer, and this time he doesn’t respond. He probably knows that your words weren’t for him.

He works methodically through applying the cream and bandages, and then as he fixes up your hands and knees. You’re careful to keep your eyes trained on his, focusing on the feel of his hands and not the fear that jackrabbits in your chest every time your focus slips.

Once finished, he guides you to your feet, and there’s still concern etched in the lines of his face, right in between his brows. That’s where he always keeps it— his worry.

“Do you want to go back to bed?”

You could. You should. He’s tired. He deserves to sleep in and you should be able to fall asleep again, because he’ll be there, and everything is fine, and you are fine.

But there’s still pieces of mug on the floor and you feel like there’s pieces of you stuck there too, and your mouth goes dry, and you never did drink that tea, and what’ll happen to the mess? What will things look like in the daylight?

Foolish? A foolish girl, yes— always overreacting.

“Honey?” He says for the second time tonight.

Your face crumples. “I’m sorry.”

He folds himself around you again, easily. His arms slot into place like a puzzle piece- always the right angle, the right feel, the right amount of pressure. He holds you together as you cry, frustrated and tired and all the things you’d tried so desperately not to let show.

“You’re okay,” He whispers, hand smoothing over your neck, your back. All those vulnerable places that itch. “You’re okay.”

He repeats the words as your cries quiet to sniffles, as you start to think he might be right.

You pull away, wiping your hands across your face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what— I’m okay now, I think.”

His eyes search your face, looking for any signs that isn’t true. “It’s okay if you’re not.”

“I know,” You say, and you really do believe it this time, “I just… it’s frustrating. That this still happens. That you still need to do this. It happened so long ago, and I don’t even think about it anymore, really. It’s weird, it’s just- the mug. It broke and I just… I don’t know.”

Aaron listens attentively to your rambles, no sign of being annoyed or exasperated or anything. “I understand. Healing isn’t linear, sweetheart. There are things that happened to me many years ago that I still think about.”

He dips down, pressing his lips to your forehead. “And I will always do this. Always.”

For the first time tonight, you believe him, fully.

You’ll be okay. Maybe not now, but you will be.

۫ ꣑ৎ

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Falling Asleep on Them

Lucifer

*deep sigh that speaks volumes to how difficult it is for this man to get any sleep, and here you are, conked out on his shoulder...*

If you don't wake up within a few minutes, he'll have no choice but to move. He is not the sort to be so sentimental that he can't bear the thought of disturbing your precious sleeping face. Of course, he won't be an asshole about it; he'll be careful and try not to wake you up. He might even drape his jacket over you for your nap.

But only if he doesn't need it.

Mammon

"Hey, my arm's gettin' a little stiff, can I just-- ...ah."

Oh. Ah. Alright. Cool. This is happening. Hmm. Damn. Not super comfortable, and it's kinda inconvenient to be trapped here, but, pshh, what's he supposed to do, wake up a sleeping human? He's heard that can lead to...cardiac arrest, or something. He ain't gonna murder you just to move a little sooner.

You did not just start snuggling him in your sleep. Did Mammon score today or did he score today? Too bad his arm's starting to fall asleep, but, well, nothin' in life is free.

Leviathan

"What...? WHAAAAAAT?" (But only in his brain. He doesn't want to wake you up. Mammon says that can lead to cardiac arrest in humans.)

He's pretty sure he's the one who's going to keel over from heart problems at this rate. He hadn't even realized you were getting sleepy. Are you bored watching him tackle this single-player old school RPG? Did you hate it all this time and you never even mentioned it?! Why is your face so close?! Do you not have any idea the kind of mental torture you're putting him through right now?!

Deep breaths, Levi. Deep breaths. This happens in anime all the time. It's...usually a good thing! It means that the main character and their love interest are tripping all the right flags, and... and how long is this scene going to last? Those scenes almost always end with the two still on the couch, then they skip to the next day or something. How long is he going to have to just sit here... suffering...?

After about ten minutes, he's reached his limit and he gently shakes you awake. He is so embarrassed that he insists you go to bed now, and he will not take no for an answer. Good night. Goodbye. *door slams*

AAAAHHHHHHHHH.

Satan

"Hm? Have you been getting enough sleep...?"

Satan would be very pleased with the situation, though probably less intensely excited than Mammon. He'll make whatever small adjustment is necessary for his comfort, then settle in and read for as long as it takes you to wake up. He feels very warm and fuzzy. It's nice. Hopefully you do this more often. But he should really ask you about your sleep schedule. Levi must be forcing you to stay awake too often.

Asmodeus

"Aww, aren't you adorable?"

This is precious. He needs to document it. As soon as he realizes what's happening, he'll carefully pull out his D.D.D., making sure not to wake you up, and start snapping pics. A few of you, a few dozen selfies with you, a few with him pretending to be asleep too, and then a perfect shot of him kissing your forehead. Grammable as fuck.

Er... is that drool he can see in one of those photos? ...You're going to have to wake up. You can't just drool on his brand-name jacket.

Beelzebub

"Oh."

He's used to people falling asleep on him, so this doesn't really throw him for much of a loop. However, he's a bit more careful of waking you up. He knows that if he wakes Belphie, he'll just fall back asleep within a few seconds, but you're not quite so adaptable. So he'll do his best to stay quiet and not move much.

But no matter how hard he tries, he's never going to be able to turn off his stomach. You'll probably wake up with a start as his stomach roars at you about twenty inches from your face.

Belphegor

"...zzzz..."

Who are we kidding, we all know he was asleep first. Probably, he's the reason you fell asleep so easily. He's soft and warm, perfect for drifting off to dreamland...

Diavolo

"Very bold! You really are astonishingly brave."

It's not every day someone has the stones to fall asleep in his presence, let alone fall asleep and use him as some sort of glorified pillow. What a nice change of pace.

He'll continue doing whatever it is he was doing before, but he is a busy demon, running the Devildom and all. He'll slowly and carefully extricate himself when it's time to move, then have Barbatos bring you a blanket and prepare some tea for when you wake up.

Barbatos

"Humans are awfully needy creatures, aren't they."

He can't help but chuckle. You just pass out during the middle of the day? Then again, it's possible you're probably not entirely well. He'll have to disturb the young master to ask what sort of accommodations to make for you. Of course, he's sure Diavolo won't mind. But it's irresponsible to let yourself drift off like this in the castle of the king of the demons, isn't it? This isn't a resort.

Sleep well, human.

Solomon

"You're just looking cute on purpose now, aren't you?"

Oh well! Looks like he's stuck here for now. Too bad. He'll smile, put an arm around you, kick his feet up, and settle in for the long haul. Hopefully you're able to get a good, solid nap in.

Most likely, you both will. He'll pass out too within ten minutes, give or take.

Simeon

"Oh- shh. There, there."

Well, if you aren't adorable... You must be so tired. He's glad you feel so at ease with him that you let yourself fall asleep, and you certainly look cute, but he's also a little concerned that you're this tired. He'll patiently wait for you to wake up. Then he'll make you some tea and gently remind you to take better care of your health.

Luke

"Eh...?! Hey! ...WAKE UP!"

How tired are you?! You need to get better sleep! Sheesh, you need to be more careful too. You almost crushed him.

[hesperisms]

hello! can i request zayne with reader who shows up at his doorstep really badly injured and just passes out against him when he opens the door?

i really love how you write zayne in your fics and i've been thinking about this idea for awhile..

// Safe Haven

"You're not fighting alone this time..."

// summary: your assignment was taking a turn for the worse and out of desperation and panic, you turned to the one person you know will always be there for you...

// content warnings: injuries, blood, angst, fluff. IT'S SOFT BOI HOURS, OKAY?

// a/n: hope I did your idea justice anon! something about the idea of seeing Zayne's all possessive and protective makes my chest ache!

likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated!

Zayne couldn't place his finger on the feeling, but something had him full of restless energy despite the late hour. He'd decided the only course of action was to burn it off, so he put on his sweats and headed out into his quiet leafy suburb for a late night jog. He used it as an opportunity to clear his thoughts and mentally debrief himself about the surgery he had completed earlier, about his to-do lists and then his thoughts drifted as they always do, to you.

He hadn't heard from you for a few hours, which wasn't unusual for you two, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing that he hadn't seen a goodnight text or voice note from you, hoping that it meant maybe you had conked out on the couch and were getting some rest. As he walked the last block back towards his house, relaxing on his cooldown he takes a photo of the full moon in the sky and sends it over to you along with a "the moon looks beautiful tonight" note.

DING.

Zayne approaches his driveway and your notification sound rings out, echoing in the silent night. He shakes his head, a smile touching the corner of his lips as he realizes you're nearby but his brow knits in confusion when he doesn't see your ride parked nearby. She probably got dropped off by Tara or that partner Xavier, he thinks to himself with a shrug. The cool night air was trapping the sweat in against his compression shirt, making him shiver as he walked up the steps to his front door. Something was off, he realized suddenly; one of his ambient security lights that normally cast a soft glow up his front steps was dimmed and bent at an odd angle, like something had fallen on it.

He leans over, attempting to make out in the dark what landed on top of it to break it when he hears it again and sees the flash.

DING.

Blood turns to ice in his veins as your notification tone sounds from beside the broken garden lighting, the flash of your phone camera strobing in the darkness for a split second in tandem with the sound. Delicately picking up your phone in his left hand, his heart catches in his chest as he sees bloody fingerprints on the screen. Zayne's mind surges with all sorts of worst-case fears as his eyes desperately scan the yard for any sign of you, but you're nowhere to be found.

Wary now and knowing you're hurt, he carefully calls forth shards of ice to his fingertips of his right hand, holding them tensely, ready to jump to action if he needs to defend himself too. Punching in the code for his electronic front door lock, he lets the door swing open as he steps inside cautiously, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary inside. Zayne moves room to room silently looking for anything out of place, any sign of you, without success.

He's just about to shut the front door and start making calls to your boss Jenna and emergency services when your hand slams against the closing door, jolting him as he stares at you. "Zayne..." you squeak out, using all your strength to prop yourself up on his doorframe.

"I'm so gla-" you don't even get a chance to finish before your body is in freefall towards him and his eyes widen in panic, the phone and the ice shards both clattering loudly on the entryway tiles as he scrambles to catch you before you hit the floor. "My hero..." you joke weakly, face pallid as you slip out of consciousness in his arms.

Cradling you gently, kneeling on the cold tiles beside you his combat medic instinct overtakes his fears and he begins to perform some cursory checks, noting how pale your lips are, how shallow your breathing is, and that's when he sees it; your right arm is dangling limply, seemingly dislocated from the socket and the sleeve has been ripped to shreds, your bicep showing a deep, angry wound. You've lost a lot of blood and you're in shock, so Zayne knows he needs to act swiftly.

"I'm so sorry, this is not going to be enjoyable for either of us." he murmurs to your unconscious body gently as he takes hold of your dislocated shoulder, feeling for the socket before firmly and skillfully setting it back into place. You cry out a whimper of pain as it temporarily wakes you and he brushes your hair away from your forehead with a bloody hand, stroking the backs of his fingers tenderly across your brow with a trembling touch. "Shhhh my love, I'm sorry, I know it hurt but I had no choice, it couldn't stay that way, you're okay, I've got you. You're okay."

Your eyes are glassy and unfocused, but you look up at him like he's an angel, the ceiling down light cascading around his dark hair above you like a halo; that handsome face stroking your brow lovingly with gentle sweeps, trying so hard to hide from you how scared he is as he smiles down at you trying to reassure you both with his soft whispers. As your eyes begin to flutter shut again and unconsciousness swallows you, you see him pulling his compression shirt off up over his head, his bare chest sucking in deep shuddering breaths that betray his smile and measured tone.

Zayne ties a sleeve of the compression shirt around your bicep wound like a tourniquet and loops the other sleeve around your neck, creating a very crude home made sling for your badly damaged arm. If he thought he had more time, he'd run to the bathroom for medical supplies but you were too pale and he was terrified to let you out of his sight so he made do as best he could. Swallowing down all sorts of insidious memories and fears from his time on the front lines, he works to stabilize you so that you'll be safe to move.

Grabbing the throw blanket off the couch and draping it over you, he scoops you up into his arms, pressing you tightly into his body as he carries you to his car, delicately lowering you into the passenger side and locking the seatbelt over you. You flit in and out of consciousness under the bright streetlights as he drives you to Akso Hospital, the steady weight of his large hand cradled behind your head, pressing and stroking tenderly on the nape of your neck the only constant feeling other than pain.

"Dr. Zayne, didn't you finish a couple of hours ago? Did you forget something in your office?" The tired but friendly voice of Dr. Greyson rings out over the car's Bluetooth speakers as Zayne's call to the nurses station connects. "Go cuddle with your Lady paperwork can wait!" Yvonne laughs in the background and Zayne realizes he's on speakerphone.

"I'm just about to hit the exit ramp. I'm 2 minutes away, prep a bay in Emergency Greyson...it's y/n." Zayne says with a harsher, colder tone than he intended, fear for your wellbeing getting the better of him.

Silence hangs on the line for a moment before someone sniffs awkwardly and a cacophony of chairs scraping and shuffling flares to life as the nurses scramble.

"How bad?" Comes the soft reply and Zayne can hear the concern in his colleague and friend's tone.

Zayne squeezes the nape of your neck reassuringly, but whether it's to reassure you or himself, he can't tell; "she's lost a lot of blood, it's hard to say. I have her stable but we don't have much time," he responds, his voice breaking slightly.

"We'll be waiting for you at the front doors." Greyson says confidently as he disconnects the call. Zayne's golden-green gaze flits across to your lips, checking on your shallow breathing as he pulls his car into the ambulance bay. Just as promised, Greyson, Yvonne and the other nurses pull up a stretcher to the passenger side of the car and open the door, looking across from you to Zayne and giving him a solemn nod.

Zayne gives your neck one last squeeze and lets them take you from the car, watching critically as they lift you gently onto the stretcher and rush you into the waiting Emergency bay. He shivers as the shock starts to wear off and the cold silence of the middle of the night settles in. Looking down at himself, realizing that he's half-naked and covered in smears of your blood, he grabs his coat out of the back of his car and jogs in after them.

He's about to follow them into the Emergency bay when Greyson puts a firm hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. "Are you trying to come in as her Doctor, because you don't trust us to work on her, or her lover because you need to know she's okay?" He asks pointedly.

Zayne snarls out a frustrated sigh, but Greyson continues.

"The code of conduct is there for her interests as the patient, you know that. I'll call you in as soon as we're done. You look like hell, go clean yourself up."

Zayne nods his resignation with a scowl, knowing Greyson was right. He wasn't happy to be called out on it, but Zayne couldn't maintain his objectiveness and professionalism, not when you were involved. The Akso Hospital board might turn a blind eye to him being your General Practitioner while dating you, but they would not stand for him being part of a surgical team.

He showered in the Doctor's suites and grabbed a spare shirt from his office before settling into the visitor's seating in the hallway outside Emergency. Zayne was lying back in the armchair, his head tilted back as he rubbed slow circles on his temples when Greyson finally come out to get him a couple of hours later.

"She's got a fractured humerus and she needed almost a litre of blood, but she's out of the woods now. Pulse is strong again, color has returned and we've stitched up the wound in her bicep. She's asking for you." Greyson said with a smile, giving Zayne a pat on the shoulder as he walked off towards the Doctor's suites.

"She's awake?"

He calls back over his shoulder with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Go to your woman, Zayne!"

Zayne slips in through the door to see the nurses packing up the crash cart and various other Emergency supplies and they give him a knowing smile as they make way for him. Yvonne hands him the pillow she was about to put behind your head and says with a smile "we should leave you two lovebirds alone, you've been through a lot tonight."

"You look..." Zayne begins, pushing the pillow in behind your head.

"Terrible?"

"A sight for sore eyes. For a minute there I was scared I was going to lose you."

You chuckled weakly, color rising in your cheeks. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily, Handsome." You reached for his hand, wincing as your stitches pulled and Zayne slipped his hand over yours, gently snuggling himself onto the bed beside you. "I don't know what would've happened if you weren't there..." you began, emotions spilling over and you choke back a sob. He presses you into his chest, hushing you and peppering kisses into your hair.

"Don't think about it Darling, don't upset yourself with what ifs and scenarios." He murmured. "I was there, you're safe now. I've got you and that's all that matters."

As he let you cry softly against his warm chest, he rubbed slow circles on your back, squeezing you tightly, pecking little soothing kisses onto your head. Zayne gently brushed your tears from your cheeks, gazing down at you lovingly, the pad of his thumb feeling so comforting as you stared up at him.

Zayne released you and reached over to read your chart, his brows knitting and his eyes narrowing as he scans through your status and treatment observations. Giving you a gentle peck on the cheek, he tells you he'll be right back and slips from the room.

He's gone for a few minutes and when the door to your room opens, he's carrying the powder blue baby blanket you bought him when he was struggling with nightmares and sitting on top of the bundle were a couple of his always on hand mint candies. Climbing back onto the bed beside you, pulling you onto his chest so he can support your wounded arm he spreads the blanket out over the two of you.

Zayne unwraps a mint candy and holds it out for you.

"Open." He commands gently and you part your lips to let him pop it into your mouth, before he takes the other one himself, tossing the wrappers into the little trashcan beside your bed. "They're keeping you in for observation overnight, so lets do our best to get a good night of sleep, my love." Zayne explains to you in a soft, whispered tone, pulling your head down to rest underneath his chin. As you both chew your candies and cuddle into each other's warmth, he strokes your hair until after a few minutes he feels your breathing settle and you relax, falling asleep against him.

The door opens with a soft click, Greyson poking his head in silently to check on you before he ends his shift, changed out of his scrubs and now in his casual wear. He gives Zayne a small nod and Zayne nods back at him solemnly in thanks, the two men exchanging a whole conversation unspoken in their gestures. The whole time Zayne is squeezing his arm tightly around you, cradling you to his chest as you sleep, his heartbeat lulling you into gentle dreams.

[dadvans]

heavy loads

2.6k of self-indulgent lactation!kink bucktommy for @rcmclachlan based on baby probie-verse, where bucktommy have a whoops baby

It wasn’t a shock to find Evan, up from his nap, in the laundry room when Tommy got home from running errands. Tommy went to go peek in on Nora—still Probie to the 118 and Miss Nora to Evan’s parents and sister, a toss up between those and Mashed Potato or Babygirl between Evan and Tommy, or Miss Piggy when she was feeding and Evan thought he was out of earshot—who was conked out in her crib. He silently snuck back from her crib to return to Evan in the laundry room and ask if he needed any help.

Four weeks and some change since bringing Nora into the world, and it was laundry out of everything that had become the main Sisyphean task to own their lives. They’d given up on cloth diapers almost immediately, but between spit-ups and changes and their basic day-to-day, it felt like there was constant, never-ceasing mountain of laundry. And Evan kept leaking.

He’d always had well-defined pecs before getting pregnant, but now he had full on tits. Just perfect handfuls, in Tommy’s opinion, but after the first few weeks the only time he wasn’t complaining about them was when he was feeding Nora.

When he was feeding Nora, all frustration or anxiety melted away into dopey bliss. Evan loved that his body was producing something good for someone else, sustaining life. “S’what I was made for,” he would say, blinking sleepily down at Nora who made sweet, little noises as she tried to suck him dry. It was a welcome difference from the weeks leading up to her arrival, when he’d been so nervous, voice shaky as he worried out loud about faulty parts, that his body wouldn’t make enough or that she wouldn’t latch, right up until she did there in the hospital on the first try.

“Babygirl’s still snoozing,” Tommy said, stuffing a hand in Evan’s back pocket while Evan leaned down to catch some stray wet socks for the dryer. “You need any help?”

Evan made a familiar disgruntled noise at the back of his throat, which meant he didn’t want to ask, but yes. So, Tommy squeezed his ass twice through the denim in a way that meant move. Evan rolled up, tossed the socks in and slammed the dryer door a little too quickly before scooting to the side. His emotions had always run high, Tommy knew, and the hormones during pregnancy and now made him even quicker to anger. In all honesty, Tommy still had to check himself when feeling annoyed about it, but it helped now when Evan twisted to let Tommy’s hand slide out of his pocket and catch on his hip. So,

“Hey,” Tommy said instead. “Hey.”

“We need to do, uh, sheets. Again,” Evan clarified, jaw tight, waving at the still-full hamper and half-emptied washing machine. He smiled like it hurt. “Passed out for a half hour and I totally soaked through them again. And I know I could leave it, let it dry, I’m putting a towel down anyway, but we already had a full load—“

“Evan.” Tommy didn’t shut him up with a kiss, but with a gentle squeeze. He’d found out that Evan’s tendency to pass out face down and sprawled out on any surface had not been fixed, but had simply laid dormant while he was pregnant, and he was up to his old habits again, which now had consequences. “I’ll take over in here. I grabbed you some more of those prebiotic sodas you’re obsessed with, if you want one.”

Evan softened.  “Ginger lime?”

“Yeah, baby, ginger lime.” Tommy gave him another squeeze. “So, get out of here and try not to give yourself heartburn while I finish loading the rest, okay?”

He finished loading the wash, and—poor baby, he thought—the sheets really were soaked through already. Both machines going, he closed the door behind him as he left and for one blissful second got to enjoy the sight of Evan settling down on the living room couch with his soda before Nora’s crying from the next room cracked through the silence like thunder.

Evan sighed, and he instantly crossed his arms across his chest, tilting his head back for a second with his eyes closed. The soda can in his hand crinkled in his grip before his wrist went limp.

Before Tommy could offer, Evan said, “Trust me. I got this one.”

xx

Tommy started re-making their bed late evening. Evan came in after leading Nora’s nighttime ritual, slingshotting his nursing tank from the doorway into the hamper, before finding a clean one in the dresser. Instead of tight, elastic straps that he could work loose, it had thicker, ribbed tank straps and deep, henley collar that he probably knew Tommy liked seeing him in. He walked into the master bathroom half-blind trying to slip it on over his head.

“You know,” he called out only to come back a few seconds later, still straightening himself out at the hem and carrying a ragged towel that he flipped over his side of the bed, “you know I think it’s cool that my body knows how to make food for our kid.”

“It’s very cool,” Tommy agreed, no-nonsense. He threw one side of their duvet over to Evan so they could snap it over the bed and peel it back evenly on each side.

Evan flopped himself on top of his towel face up the second they were done, kicking his own feet down to get his calves under the covers. “Well, lately I’m starting to feel like it doesn’t know how to stop, and I’m going to be like this forever. A leaky mess.”

Tommy crawled into bed next to him and leaned over to press a kiss to the meat of his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your tits, baby. Anything I can do?”

His mouth grazed down the strap of Evan’s nursing tank and something deep in his gut began to uncoil as Evan’s breath hitched in response. Instinctively, he pressed another kiss lower, near the crease of his armpit, and Evan shuddered on the exhale.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned.

Tommy smiled against his warm skin, eyes beating closed. “Good thing we’re both firefighters, then.”

Evan laughed.

“Fuck, I’m serious!” He said, first fond and then softer, “Really. I’m serious, though. If you were. Curious, I mean. Go for it. There’s always a little something left in the tank.”

Tommy hummed. Eyes still closed, he could feel the way Evan shifted underneath him to wrap an arm around Tommy’s shoulder and get a palm at the nape of his neck, fingers tracing up through his hair. Ready to cradle him like that, hold him there, if he wanted.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve already thought about it,” Evan continued. “I’ve thought about it, maybe a lot.”

“Jesus, Evan.” Tommy nipped at his shoulder again, just to tease, but found himself curling into Evan’s hold, reaching up to snap open the collar of his tank and slide his hand underneath to cup at Evan’s pec, which fit perfectly in his palm and sat soft and ready below his chin. His thumb stroked over the nipple, fatter and perkier than ever since Nora’d arrived, and Evan sank back against his body in return. “You gonna feed me?”

“Y-yeah.” Evan sounded shaky but so sure. His fingers in Tommy’s hair curled into a soft grip. “God, help me out, Tommy, please let me feed you.”

Tommy hummed. “Okay. C’mere, baby, I got you.”

It was so easy, taking Evan’s fat tit into his mouth, Evan’s grip in his hair growing tighter while the rest of him went practically boneless. Another shaky breath and then Evan made a noise, half-whimper, half moan, that went straight to Tommy’s dick.

“Need you to take it deeper. Open, open, oh—God, your mouth is so big. Stay there, like that, yeah,” Evan said, hushed, almost reverent, as Tommy adjusted his latch and started putting his tongue to work.

He licked up, chasing Evan’s nipple, trying to tease his milk out. Swallowed around him and threw an arm over Evan’s lap to keep him in place when he started to squirm, thrilled to feel the way Evan shifted as his heels started to dig into the mattress, getting hard, dick pressing up against Tommy’s forearm.

And there it was, suddenly, Evan’s milk streaming into his mouth. Creamy and sweet, like the leftover dregs of Saturday morning cereal when he was a kid, hitting his tongue in little hiccup spurts. He almost choked at the sensation and felt a little slip out the corner of his mouth, and Evan’s grip tightened at the base of his scalp again, holding him there.

Their sex life hadn’t suffered even in the past few weeks, not in the way Tommy thought back on many of his old guard colleagues at the 118 talking about—dead bedrooms, wives like cold fish ever since they popped out a kid for some reason. But between Evan’s body needing the time to heal and the recent arrival of a tiny drill sergeant who demanded to be fed, held, changed and bathed at regularly irregular frequencies, opportunities to be intimate with each other had been few and far between. Tommy wasn’t complaining, but the sheer wave of niceness he felt now—being this close and familiar with Evan felt just as good as the first hit of a dilaudid drip in the back of an ambulance, made his toes curl against their fresh sheets as he swallowed.

“Missed your mouth on me,” Evan sighed, clearly also feeling some kind of way. “Shit, that’s nice. Different, but good.”

His dick was more insistent against Tommy’s arm now, the head eagerly tenting the thin cotton of his boxers.

Tommy finally took pity on him and tugged Evan out through the slit in his boxers, lips slipping loose to murmur,  “Yes, hi, hello to you too.”

He licked his hand milk wet and returned his grip to stroke Evan and squeeze a little mean at the tip, the way that Evan loved, the way that made Evan pant and whine, before he resumed suckling. There was something meditative about Evan rocking into his hand and against his tongue, and Tommy found himself soothed by the give and take of his body, their natural rhythm together punctuated by Evan’s swallowed back noises.

“Okay?” Tommy asked, mouth full.

“Uh-huh.” Evan sighed, breath pitchy. “Starting to soak through my other side without my Haakaa.”

Tommy hummed, and licked a broad stripe up his nipple to his collarbone, biting there softly. “You want me to go get your Haakaa, baby?”

“Nah, I have a better idea,” Evan replied. He untangled himself from Tommy’s grip and carefully twisted to throw one long leg over Tommy’s thighs. “Hey, handsome.”

“Evan,” Tommy warned. They were supposed to be limiting the kind of sex they were having for at least two more weeks.

Evan worked the other side of his tank down his chest so both of his tits were exposed, rubbing at the neglected nipple. “I just want to continue what we started. Nothing else. C’mon. No funny business.”

“Maybe a little funny business,” Tommy murmured as he watched milk dribble out over Evan’s fingers. He leaned in to chase the wet line up Evan’s knuckles with his tongue and suck a hot-breathed open-mouthed kiss to Evan nipple before pulling away. Evan groaned and rocked forward, chasing him in response, which almost had Tommy laughing. “Hey, gimme a sec. I’m grabbing you some lube.”

“Me?”

Tommy, halfway stretched back reaching for the bedside table, gave an unimpressed glance down at where Evan’s hard dick still curved up through the slit in his boxers, plummy head drooling precome against the tent in Tommy’s own sleep pants. Then he went back to digging the lube out of the drawer, practiced hands making quick work with it until he was wrapping a slick palm around Evan’s dick.

“That’s right, said I was gonna take care of you.” He sidled back up against the headboard, and Evan shifted with him practiced and familiar, until Tommy’s hand was stroking him, snug and slippery between them. Licking another long, thick line up the small swell of Evan’s breast, Tommy said, “And you’ll take care of me.”

He pulled Evan back into his mouth, and something uncoiled in his gut as Evan’s milk hit the back of his tongue again. His eyes fluttered closed. Years together and Evan’s body was still finding new things to give, new ways to taste, sweet and warm like the rest of him, dripping down Tommy’s throat.

“Oh.” Evan’s voice was weak and pitchy, and he brought both hands back up to curl in Tommy’s hair and hold him there while Tommy continued to suck and let Evan fuck into his fist.

His stomach was soft against Tommy’s knuckles, recently tender enough that Tommy tried to get his free hand on Evan’s hip to control the roll of his hips, opting for a sluggish grind and tighter grip. In the past nine months and change Evan had ridden him, sure, actually ridden him, but more recently he’d had a belly full of their kid in the way, so it was always reverse cowboy, and not this level of skin on skin closeness right in his lap. Evan flush against him now was a reminder of their first several months together when they used a little more strength to push each other around and hold each other down and Tommy, mouth full, felt so hungry for it.

“Can’t wait to have you inside me again,” Evan said, like he could read Tommy’s mind.

Tommy moaned and swallowed in response, tongued at Evan’s nipple like he was begging for more. He could feel Evan’s dick throb hot, heavier now in response, the grinding rock of his hips going a little sloppy.

“Baby,” Evan said, right on cue, “I’m going to come.”

The hands in Tommy’s hair tugged back, Tommy’s mouth dragged away and up with a slick noise to be guided in for a kiss, milk slipping from the corners, passed between the two of them as Evan came, shuddering on top of him. Vaguely he felt Evan’s come seep through his tank and sleep pants, already damp with lube and sweat. He was defenseless against it as Evan kept kissing him through his orgasm, licking into him sloppy and greedy for what felt like an hour, big hands and long arms slowly sliding down to where Tommy was still achingly hard. His fingers curled into the elastic waistband to clumsily peel back what he could without moving to pull Tommy out into his own familiar grip.

“Evan,” Tommy said against his mouth, almost breathless with it.

“Let me.” Evan leaned back to spit on his own hand, equal parts too lazy and restless to grab the lube that was right there, but Tommy had been riding the edge practically from the start. He was so goddamn spoiled already.

Evan touched him like he knew, jerking him off hard and quick.

“Next time,” he continued, “next time we do this, you lay me down and I’ll let you jerk off all over my tits.”

Tommy came hard with an ugly noise, like it was ripped up his throat. His head kicked back and Evan laughed, smug, leaning in to kiss the noise down, their teeth clacking together instead. He body felt weightless, Evan’s weight on him the only thing keeping him from floating up to the ceiling.

“Jesus,” he said, eventually.

Evan hummed, settling back. He looked sleepy, and satisfied, and so pleased with himself. “Yeah? You good? Get your fill?”

“And then some,” Tommy replied, feeling half drunk. “You good?”

“Great,” Evan said, glancing between them. Both their clean shirts were soaked through in places. Tommy needed to grab a new pair of pants. “But I'll be even better if you take care of the laundry.”

[kkami-writes]

hybrid hearts ━ chapter seven. wc. 1.4k

Things seem to settle pretty quickly after deciding that the wolf would be staying. Chan fits in with you and Hyunjin so well that it feels like he’s been with the two of you since the beginning. Now that Hyunjin has claimed you as his mate, something deep in his heart seems to have settled and he doesn’t feel as threatened by the big bad wolf. Quite the opposite really as the ferret has taken to clinging to the older, following him around and has even started to call him hyung.

There are times when it feels like they were the ones who were actually mates. You weren’t jealous though, again, quite the opposite. You were amused at how quickly he switched up as soon as Chan had started doting on the younger Hybrid and you knew just how much Hyunjin was a glutton for attention. You would watch on with fond eyes as you’d come home from a late shift of doing admin things at the cafe just to see the two of them entwined on the couch, Hyunjin asleep while Chan quietly watched whatever drama was playing on the TV. There were times when you noticed there was something kind of heated between the two, a tension of some sort that no one was quite ready to bring up. You were not sure what was going on, but you decide that it’s a problem for future you.

Hyunjin is not the only victim of Chan’s unending charisma however. There are more times then you can count, that the wolf would have your cheeks burning red. It wouldn’t even be anything major, a firm hand on your lower back as he steadied you while you restocked the higher shelves or tucking a loose hair back behind your ear. The close proximity had your head slightly dizzy, cheeks flushed. You find out later that Chan suffers from insomnia, unable to sleep most nights. Though you don’t stay up late very often, the two of you bond over these late nights when the two of you can’t sleep (and the ferret is conked out in your bed). Chan is so sweet and warm despite the hardships he’s endured and you can’t help but admire him.

Not only is he an extremely competent worker at the cafe, already memorizing people’s regular orders and appeasing the many rabid fangirls who cause a ruckus in your store, he’s even quite popular with the elderly ladies who coo and dote on the shy wolf. Chan has also bene helping out a lot with the more physically demanding chores around the house. Some of your older chairs that had been your parents were lose and he had taken it upon himself to repair them. He had been clad in a black tank top that seemed a little too tight, taking a hammer to reinforce the legs and you and Hyunjin had just sat on the couch staring at him. The two of you glanced at each other, blushed, and then never brought it up again. Chan didn’t bring it up if he had caught the two of you watching or not but he had started to walk around the house in the same tank top, especially if it was hot outside.

In retrospect, you feel like you should have seen this coming.

The three of you are just finishing up dinner when Chan brings it up.

“So, I don’t know how versed you are about hybrid packs or mating, but it would be an honor if I could court you,”

You don’t even get a chance to respond or even react before Hyunjin is slamming his hands on the table, his little fangs bared.

“Hyung! What the fuck! They’re MY mate,” He hisses through his teeth, betrayal swimming in his eyes. While normally yes, he should be upset if the wolf was trying to steal his mate, but you get the feeling that’s not the reason he seems so hurt right now.

Chan’s eyes widened and he frantically moves his hands around in a panic.

“Oh! No, no, no! Sorry I wasn’t clear. I’m asking BOTH of you. I would like to court the two of you,”

The fight dies in Hyunjin’s eyes almost immediately as he silently plops back into his seat, cheeks flushed and looking away. You on the other hand turn to Chan with an inquisitive look.

“Both of us?”

“It’s very common for hybrids to band together and form packs with one another. Due to hybrids needing much more affection and love, it’s also not uncommon for those packs to be polyamorous. Of course, I understand though if you’re not romantically interested in me or even want another partner outside of Hyunjin. However I would still love it if we could form a pack, it just doesn’t need to be a romantic one,”

You take in Chan’s words carefully, deciding that you should probably do some more research about hybrids. That could wait however as you turn to glance at Hyunjin. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet since his small outburst, the ferret fidgeting nervously with his fingers.

“I think it’s safe to say we’re both very flattered but we need to talk about it first,”

“Of course, of course! No pressure, I’m fine with anything the two of you want,” He gives you that devastatingly bright smile, dimple peaking out as he excuses himself to his room to give the two of you space. Hyunjin still doesn’t budge until you hold out your hand for him to take, which he does and holds on for dear life, as if you’ll leave him if he lets go.

You guide him back to your room, making him sit on the edge of the bed. Taking his face between your hands, forcing the boy to look up at you. His eyes are wet, threatening to spill with tears as he attempts to hold them back.

“Oh baby…talk to me Hyun, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He sniffles a little pathetically before wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your chest.

“…Please don’t leave me,” Hyunjin’s voice is slightly muffled from how hard he’s pressing against you but you can hear him just fine.

“Why would I leave?”

“Because! Because…” He struggles to get his words out.

“Because you like Bangchan?” He looks down, face flushed in both shame and embarrassment. “Honey, I’m not upset about that,”

“But why?! You should be! I’m your mate, I shouldn’t be liking other people like that!”

“Hyunjin. Do you still like me?” He lets out a noise that sounds borderline painful at your words.

“Of course!! I LOVE you. You are my everything, my life, my light,” He gasps the words out, coming to clutch at your hands.

“I love you too silly ferret. I’m not upset about you having a crush on Chan because i’m very secure in our relationship. Just because you harbor feelings for someone else doesn’t mean that your feelings for me are gonna disappear. While I may not know a lot, Chan said that hybrid packs tend to be polyamorous so it’s really not that strange for you to like someone else. Hybrids need a lot of love and in return they also have a lot of love to give. It’s in your nature and I would never fault you for that,”

“So…you wouldn’t be upset if Chan courted me?”

“That depends, are you gonna be okay if Chan courts me too?”

Hyunjin’s head perks up at that. “What? Are you…actually interested?”

“Well, I can’t deny that Chan is very charming and sweet. I’ve never really considered having more than one partner but I’d be willing to try. I mean who would say no to two boyfriends?” You joke with a soft little giggle.

Hyunjin suddenly stands up, using his height over you to cup your cheeks, making you look up at him. You blink up at him. He gives you the softest smile, long fingers brushing against your cheekbones.

“You are…something else. You know that?” He hums lowly, his eyes full of love and fondness. “If we do this I need you to know that I will always love you. Nothing will ever change that,”

You reciprocate his gentle smile, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I love you too Hyun. I’m so glad you came into my life,”

He kisses you softly, noses nudged together and you can’t help but think about how perfectly he fits against you.

Hybrid Hearts Taglist: Open (44/50) sign up here to join. @sweetbokji @puckmaidens @minhwa @highlydestiny @hyuneyeon @wolfs-howling @sadboysoda @hanniemylovelyquokka @realrintaro @candyquokka @starstreasurechest @soulphoenix1618 @jensbby @ldysmfrst @everglowdaisies @bluesunshineflower @lilcutieana @staylovesmiley @notkarinaa00q @im-sinking-in-mud @eleekian @stillwjk-channie-lixie @ex0tictom1e @sillyhal @dearalice @badgirlwolfy @tinyelfperson @velvetmoonlght @fackeraccount @cheeksung @r3niun @btch8008s @ghostlymoons @princelingperfect @itzkaitlynm @fr34k4c1dr41n @yukichan67 @y2kur0mi @sillyhal @champagneconfetti @zealouscookierebeltrash @geni-627 @chrisbiniesluvrr @badgirlwolfy

[candela-540]

Twst boys reaction to being asked to model a maid dress for you.

Riddle: Pardon?!?!?

Trey: Sorry I have somewhere else to be right now. (does not have somewhere to be right now)

Cater: Okay but how much likes will this get me?

Ace: HAHAHA.... wait you're serious?

Duece: *takes the dress after 5min of sputtering* mutters under his breath "Just don't tell Ace okay?"

Leona: *door slams in your face*

Ruggie: How much will you pay me?

Jack: *litterally won't even fit*

Floyd: *Wears the dress and rocks it.*

Jade: *Wears it and rocks it even harder for the sole purpose of agitating Floyd starting a brotherly fight that destroys half the lounge.*

Azul: is busy cleaning up the aftermath

Kalim: Wears it and loves it so much he declares there'll be a maid dress party amoung the Scarabia students

Jamil: muttering under his breath sewing all the maid dresses Kalim ordered him to make

Epel: *swears in country boi*

Rook: you open the door to request he model it for you, but he's already in one. You decide not to ask.

Vil: Scoffs at you. As if he would be caught dead in such a low quality maid dress. Now a high quality one....

Ortho: Wears it and is, ADORABLE.

Idia: W-w-what? Someone wants him to wear a maid dress? This is just like that visual novel he played where the guy wears a maid dress just to try it and his brother walks in on him in the dress as he's about to tell him this huuuuge family secret where they're secretly aliens and-

Lilia: wears the dress like he was born to wear one. He is now more dangerous than ever.

Sebek: HUMAN! YOU DARE ASK ME TO PUT ON SUCH A GARMENT?!?! HOW DA- *sees Lilia in the dress* Sebek is now wearing the dress and is stronger for it

Silver: conks out as he's pulling the dress over his head. He'll get back to it when he wakes up.

Malleus: Originally says no, but then you INVITE him to wear the dress...

Child of man, can you please tie the back for me?

Crowly: why is everyone on this damn campus wearing a maid dress?!

[hitomisuzuya]

Brat taming. Scaramouche x fem! reader Smut. Degradation. Fingering. Cunilligus. Orgasm denial. Dom!Scara. He is kinda really mean in this, but soft as well. Some manhandling. Pet name.

An ode to the tired cause I am. Thank you for being patient with me. As always, thank you all for the support❤️

Scaramouche could tell you were tired. You weren't sleeping at night. And if you did, you only dozed off for a minimum of an hour or two at most. Usually, he was the one awake at night, with you conked out in his arms.

He was worried.

Really worried.

You felt a hand stroke down your hair, hearing a scoff. "You should be asleep," He said, looking down at you. You felt so warm against him, he always insisted you sleep naked with him.

"I am trying, Scara," You replied, huffing a little.

Now, he knew he could be a brat. A hellion. But you had a mouth on you to. You weren't afraid to mouth off to him, and that both pissed him off and really aroused him.

It is one of many reasons why he is in love with you.

"Sleep," He said, tipping your head up to look at him.

You blinked twice. "No," You said flatly.

Never did he think one word could make his cock throb so much.

Scaramouche rolled you over onto your back. "Hmm? What did you say?" He glared down at you.

You set your jaw stubbornly, replying without hesitation, "No, I won't sleep," There was such a defiant look in your eyes. Sure, you were tired, but it was the principle of the thing now. It is pretty much a reflex for you to stand up to him like this. As odd a time as it was to do so.

"What a mouth you have on you, slut," You were going to be in for a long night. Scaramouche knew what he had to do, and thought exhilarated him. He was going to put you in your place, and fuck you exhausted.

Your defiance is always a turn on for him.

Scaramouche wasted no time working his tongue sloppily over your cunt. His tongue dipping inside of you, swirling around your now throbbing clit. You were close to cumming. You always whimpered, and twitched a certain way.

"Are you cumming, whore?" He asked, latching his lips around your clit, sucking firmly as you let out your signature whimper, pressing his face onto your cunt. He smirked. "That's too bad," This wasn't the only orgasm he was planning to ruin.

The more he ruined, the harder you would cum.

Scaramouche shushed you, holding one of your thighs open. Before you could whimper in protest, he plunged two fingers inside of you, making you gasp in pleasure. Your hips bucked up into his fingers, gripping the sheets when his fingers nudged against your sweet spot.

Having been denied your first orgasm, your walls clamped sensitive around his fingers. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, scissoring your walls apart. He hooked his fingers against your sweet spot consistently.

"Don't you dare cum without my permission," He hissed, slamming his fingers inside you. Your thighs trembled and burned, your orgasm building in your stomach again.

You couldn't help it. You suddenly squirted on his fingers, panting and writhing as you let out a high pitched moan of pleasure.

"Tch," Scaramouche pulled his fingers out of you, licking them before he grabbed a handful of your hair. "What a filthy whore, cumming without her Master's permission," He hauled you off the bed by your hair, making you yelp.

He shoved you down onto your knees, pushing his cock against your lips. "Open up and suck, slut. Beg for forgiveness on your knees," Keeping a tight grip on your hair, he brought your face closer to his cock.

Your tongue curled out to lick the head of his aching cock. "I'm sorry, Master. Please forgive me, please," You licked up and down his cock, sucking lovingly on the tip.

Scaramouche groaned, pushing your mouth down onto his cock. Your throat spasmed as you choked, enjoying seeing the tears well into your eyes. "Keep talking, slut," He took your mouth off of his cock, glaring down at you.

"Please, Master. Please forgive me for cumming without permission," You pleaded, looking up at him as you sucked on the head of his cock again, "I promise I won't do it again."

Holding your head in place, Scaramouche thrust his cock back into your mouth. He seemed entirely uncaring, hitting the back of your throat. His pace turned harsher, using your mouth as he pleased until cum spilled into your throat.

"Swallow, fucking slut," He groaned, holding your mouth on his cock as you swallowed.

The way he tossed you back down onto the bed was almost gentle. Pining you down on the bed by your shoulders, he grinded the head of his still hard cock against your clit, making you squirm underneath him.

"Beg for it," He commanded, leaning down to kiss you. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, curling his tongue around yours. Sucking on your tongue, you moaned into his mouth. He bit your lips as he pulled away.

You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him as you desperately sought more friction from his cock. "Please fuck me, Scara! Fuck me senseless!" You pleaded, grinding needily against his cock.

Growling, he abruptly thrust his cock inside of you, bottoming out with one snap of his hips. Your fingernails dug into his skin, your body seizing up in pleasure as he started thrusting.

His harsh, quick pace took your breath away. You could only choke out sobs and moans, pleasure curling tight through you. His cock squelched in and out of your weeping hole.

"Are you gonna cum?" Scaramouche asked, groaning huskily from the way his cock throbbed everytime your walls clamped around his cock. You nodded, letting out that whimper he always adored hearing as you nodded.

"Don't you fucking dare," He swiftly pulled his cock out of you, smirking when you cried out, your face crumbling being denied your release.

"Ugh, please Scara! Please can I cum now?! I'll be a good girl, I promise!" Your body shook with need for him, your clit throbbing. Your walls were clamping around nothing, begging for his cock to be back inside of you.

Roughly grasping your chin, Scaramouche kissed you again. His mouth swallowed your moan when he suddenly thrust back inside of you. You mewled in pleasure, clinging to him as he slammed his cock inside of you.

You felt every throb of his cock, his cum painting your walls white. The feeling of his warm cum filling you full made you squirt on his cock. He sloppily fucked you through your high, his lips never once leaving yours.

Before he pulled out of you, he renewed the biting bruise he always liked to leave next your throat.

"Good girl," Scaramouche cooed, rolling off of you. He nuzzled into your neck. He felt you return the action with a soft sigh.

Then you were quiet. "Kitten? Kitten?" You didn't answer him. You'd promptly crashed, exhausted. Scaramouche kissed you on the forehead, smiling softly down at you. He pulled you against his chest.

You were finally asleep.

[motthe]

Hello! Could I ask for a drabble with snowed in rivals with Mel Medard! I prefer Fem!Reader but G/N works just as well!!

Drink cookies, eat hot coco, and have a happy holidays! 🎁

i will eat ALL the hot coco yes. thank you so much and wish you all the joy this winter season!!!

warnings: one (1) mention of breasts but not in a nsfw way, sassy women, rival attitudes one could say, perhaps a bit of secondhand embarrassment

You hadn’t expected to be snowed in with your fellow council member Mel Medarda of all people. You supposed it could have been worse. While you and Medarda did not always see eye to eye, you were less inclined to strangle her after an hour of being trapped in an office with her. The same could not be said with a few of the other members.

“Surely the enforcers will notice when they make their rounds.”

Your eye twitched as you opened them to the dying flames within the fireplace.

“We both worked far too late for that to be an option,” you said with a wilting patience. “They don’t do rounds this late in the winter—not unless suspicious accidents have occurred, at least.”

“We can’t possibly be stuck here,” she chuckled, much to arrogant as you turned to stare at her, dead faced. “If that’s the case, shouldn’t you be a bit more worried?”

You shrugged. “Only thing I’m worried about is this fire going out. Let’s find some paper, perhaps a newspaper if we’re lucky.”

A search left you with more than enough kindle to keep the fire going throughout the night, though with how fast paper burned you’d might wake too late to add in to the pile.

As you pulled the couch closer, Mel stood off to the side of the fireplace, raising an eyebrow. The chill of the room was getting to her or so her crossed arms revealed.

“Oh, I apologize. Did you want the couch?” you huffed, straightened to gesture to the cushions.

“This is ridiculous!” she said, golden details glinting in the moonlight seeping through the windows. “I’m going to find a flashlight—something to signal for help!”

“In the dark?” you mumbled. The electricity had gone out along with every exit, unless you counted jumping out of a window. “Good luck with that.”

She rolled her eyes, starting out of the room. You scooted your bed for the night as close as you dared to the fireplace, tossing in a few rolls of magazines for good measure. Luckily you’d found some coats left behind and could use them for makeshift blankets.

You’re not sure what time it was, but it was still dark out when you felt a shift. Mel was crouching by the fire, shivering so hard her teeth chattered. She was holding her hands against the flames, but the small amount of heat didn’t seem to help much.

Sitting up with a sigh, you shimmied over and patted the cushions as she looked to you.

“Well? Do you want to freeze?” you grumbled, holding up your pile of coats.

“Honestly,” she whispered, but she accepted the invitation all but melting into your side when she realized how much of your body warmth had seeped into the cushions and jackets. It was already awkward enough being stuck here together, so the two of you remained silent and watched the crumbling paper drift into smoke.

You woke to voices in the hall and thundering footsteps. The urgency was enough to send you upright until you realized you were more or less pinned to your bed.

Wait, no, not bed—couch?

The night raced back as you looked down to find Mel conked out on your chest, her breath warm as she cuddled deeper into your breast.

She was just coming to, outlined eyes a bit smudged but soft as they blinked wearily at you in confusion, when the door slammed open and a couple of guards raced in.

“Here they are!”

“What in—“ Mel began sitting up, yorue not sure if she was more shocked with you being under her or the enforcers.

“We were afraid two of the council members had gone missing,” one of them reported, clearly keeping up their professional duty as they did not question either of you as you rushed to your feet. Mel rushed to fix the skirt of her dress which had ridden up in the night. Your face burned at the sight of so much of her leg.

“We were snowed in,” you announced to the room, a bit shakily. “There was no way to get help so we made do.”

“Yes,” Mel scrambled to agree. You’d never seen her so…out of sorts. “We’re fine. Call off the search.”

“Of course,” the other enforcer replied, marching out of the room. Their partner followed leaving you both to a quiet room once more.

“Well, have a good day,” you sputtered, hurrying towards the door.

“Wait!”

You stopped, blood rushing in your ears as you glanced back. Your fellow council member was at a loss for words before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Thank you for starting the fire last night.”

You blinked, unsure why your heart dropped. What had you been hoping for? “Of course.”

“I know I wasn’t much help, so I just wanted to express my gratitude,” she said, nodding. “That’s all.”

“Right, well… You’re welcome. Good day.”

It wasn’t until you were halfway down the hall that you realized just how cold it was without her against you anymore.

[tinyraptorhands]

*((MDNI, smut!))*

"Shes a fuggin'...menace!" March slurred, slamming down his beer. Ryis flinched, and flinched again when the blacksmith dropped his head onto the bar counter.

"Uh...who's a menace?" Ryis asked, carefully sipping his own beer. March turned his head to the side, not bothering to raise his head.

"The-the fuggin'...fuggin' farmer! All, 'lookit meee, I'mma amaaaazin' person and I'm seeeexshy as hell!" March slurred falsetto, spit landing on the bar. Ryis blinked.

"...Wait, Hayden!?"

"No! Dummy, its...her!" March made a vague gesture, struggling to sit up. Ryis steadied him, and chuckled.

"You mean our not-so-new farmer?" The carpenter smiled at his drunk friend. March huffed.

"Yuh. Her." He folded his arms, and pouted. "Thinks shes....she's soooo cute and...pretty and..." he blushed, adding to his reddened cheeks, "...and kind and sassy...an'....got great boobs...nice ass...and a tight little-" he burped a little, "...ugh..." he conked his head onto the bar.

Ryis choked on his beer, pounding his chest as he regained himself.

Did his friend just compliment the farmer's...assets?!

"March, I think you had enough for today-" Hemlock came over, looking like he heard enough to last a lifetime. "Ryis, you wanna..?" He gestured to March with a dish cloth, who was rambling to himself more about the farmer and her...

Ahem.

"Yeah, I got him." Ryis said, reaching into his back pocket for money.

"Oh, don't worry. You and March did good work on the recent fix for the doors." He said, waving it away. Ryis frowned.

"You sure, Hemlock? Pretty sure March drank at least three-"

"Three orgashms! Thas....thas what she owes me!...maybe suh-seven-"

Ryis slapped a hand over March's mouth quickly, March still talking even with the hand over his mouth.

"Thanks, Hemlock." Ryis said quickly.

"Y-yeah, you...you two get home safe." The bar owner shook his head, and continued to polish a glass. He sighed.

What an interesting moment.

As the two left, Elsie, who had been sitting at the end of the bar finally spoke up.

"Well, I never saw that coming. That adorable little farmer and our resident grumpy blacksmith?" She sipped her wine, and giggled behind her hand. "Ah, youth..."

Hemlock chuckled. "Something like that, I suppose."

"Hey, wait! What's an...orgasm?" A timid voice called out.

The two turned to see Luc standing near the stairs, clutching a book on insects and his old baby blanket.

Hemlock face palmed. Elsie whistled a nameless tune, swirling her wine.

"Maybe I should've charged March..." Hemlock sighed.

"Thanks, Ryis! I'll get him to bed!" Olric called after the carpenter, who waved back. Olric looked over at his brother, who he slung his arm around. March hiccuped, looking completely out of it. "Hey, little bro-you able to use those feet?"

"F-feet...?" March looked down at his feet. "...hehe, nah..." he leaned on Olric heavily. Olric chuckled, and hoisted his brother over his shoulder.

"C'mon, March-y moo! To the loo!" Olric said, grinning as he turned to head into the shop.

"Don' gonna pee..." March moaned.

"No, but you're gonna puke soon! It happens like-"

Olric was interrupted by a splatter, and the older brother stopped walking. "...I probably shouldn't have hoisted you over my shoulder, huh?"

"Blurgh..." March gurgled. Olric grimaced.

"Yeah, that's my bad."

The amount of ore in your pack was substantial, making your back ache in new ways entirely. You went to the forge outside the blacksmith's shop, depositing your bag.

It was a rainy day, the rain light enough to go mining, but also enough to skip watering your crops.

You hadn't seen March lately. You wondered if denying him an orgasm really took a hit on his ego.

But, cest la vie.

If he couldn't handle getting his way once, then let him sulk.

You pulled the handle on the shop's door, a small tinny sound of the bell alerting the shopkeeps.

As you went to tell Olric you were planning on using the forge for the next few hours, you didn't notice March huddled in the corner, at his desk. That was...most likely because Olric drapped a blanket over his hungover brother's head.

How sweet of him.

"Olric, I'm gonna use the forge for a bit, is that okay?" You said, smiling at the rock-loving himbo. March stiffened, back suddenly ramrod straight. Olric was busy dusting merchandise when he looked up, smiling.

"Sure thing, farmer!" Olric smiled, throwing you a thumbs up. You nodded, leaving the shop.

"F-farmer!?" March's head shot up, the blanket falling to the wayside as he fully sat up.

Shitshitshitshitshiiiit!

You were here!

March scrambled to standing, ignoring the pounding in his head as he ran to the entrance. Olric blinked as he watched him. "March? What're you-"

The door slammed behind the red head, leaving Olric confused for but a moment.

And then, like a lightbulb went off, he nodded to himself. "Oh, right. Shes out there." He grinned.

What a silly younger brother he had!

You had gotten only a few ore in the furnace when you felt a pair of large hands spin you around, scattering ore and sparks of hot coals around. "Ah! What the he-" you were greeted with a pair of tired, but angry-looking dark eyes. "March! What the hell?! You of all people know how dangerous that was to-"

He silenced you with a desperate kiss, searing as the furnace you were melting ore in. Maybe even more so.

The rain pelted down you both, making sweat and water slicked skin feel hot and sticky. You gripped the front of his apron, your hammer clattering to the ground. He moaned into your mouth, and you greedily swallowed each noise up with your own.

Tongues danced together, wrestling for dominance as the kiss deepened, your saliva mixed with his, running down your chin.

He suddenly broke the kiss, and you gasped at the loss. He and you panted, lips red and swollen. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand of the spit collected there. "You. Behind the shop. Now."

"Excuse me?" You huffed, still out of breath but not of sass.

"You heard me." He stated, "unless we're gonna just ignore the fact that I'm fucking hard and you're wet as hell."

"How would you-"

"Your pressing your thighs together. You do that and then you wiggle your hips the slightest bit." March said bluntly. You blushed. So did he. "Its...not like I noticed it right away, I'm....not a creep!"

"No, but you might be a perver-"

He grabbed your arm, and dragged you behind the shop, the forge's heat leaving your body cold.

Well, until March replaced it with his own. He all but slammed you into the building, hands flying to your now wet shirt. "You friggin'...had me on the hook last time." He mumbled, "like some kind of-"

"Bitch?" You smirked as he stopped unbuttoning your plaid work shirt. His eyes flicked to you.

"...Well. I wasn't gonna say it." And with all the grace of a starved man, he ripped open the shirt. Buttons flew, and you gaped.

"March!"

"What?? It was in the way!" He grunted, hands now flying to your bra-clad breasts. "And now this-"

"Don't you even think about-"

He pinched the lace fabric edge, and smirked. "Thought about it-"

He yanked, tearing it effortlessly down the middle. "Doing it."

You groaned. "You absolute ass!"

"Revenge is sweet, little miss plays-in-the-mud." He said, voice thick with syrupy lust. Before you could retort, he dove into your cleavage, cupping your breasts to his face. You gasped as he laved his tongue over a nipple, hardening from the cool rain. He looked up at you through heavy lids, his gloved hands feeling rough against the sensitive skin. "Like that?" He said against your soft tit.

You bit your lip, your hands gripping the side of the building. "Y-yes..." you said through your teeth.

"Good." He chuckled. He suddenly straightened up, cock pressing hard against his pants. You frowned, confused as he adjusted himself.

"What-"

"We're heading inside. We aren't fucking in the rain, I don't wanna catch a cold."

Stick in the mud, much? You rolled your eyes, tugging your ruined shirt closed.

"C'mon. Through the back door." He huffed. You rolled your eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Blacksmith."

He blushed, and gave a soft tap to your ass as you went ahead.

"Whatever. Get in."

As the door shut behind you, you both snuck to his room.

Debauchery? Thy name is March.

((Gonna do a third part. I meant for this only to be a one shot, but people liked the first and wanted more. Sooo...yeah.))

[impala-dreamer]

Of Whipped Cream & Body Heat

A Supernatural Story

~After getting jumped on a hunt, Y/N and Dean find themselves locked in a walk-in refrigerator. Can they brave the cold and each other's temper until Sam sets them free?~

Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam 

2192 Words

Warnings: NSFWish... Banter and Romance and Snark and Fluff and Just... I love it. I LOVE IT. Please Enjoy. 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

A/N: This and hundreds more fics are available anytime on Patreon

“I don’t know how or why, but I feel like you planned this.”

Y/N popped a hip and chewed on a fingernail, staring angrily at the big metal door blocking her exit.

The fluorescent lights above were harsh, sure to blind them both if they looked up for too long. The air being circulated through the walk in fridge was so cold that she could feel her nipples and everything else perk towards too hard.

Dean scoffed. “Why the hell would I have planned this?”

He shifted against the back wall and stretched his long legs out, taking a moment to regroup. His head was still bleeding and Y/N frowned at the cut above his eye when she glared back at him.

“You’ve probably got a concussion,” she sighed, grabbing a head of lettuce off the shelf to her left and chucking it at him. “Put that on your head.”

Dean cocked a brow in confusion. “Uh… why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because it’s cold. You gotta stop the swelling. You don’t want a bump, do you?”

Annoyed, he tossed the cabbage back and it landed at her feet. “I don’t want that.”

“So sorry you disapprove, but the frozen peas are next door in the freezer!”

“Why are you yelling at me!”

“You’re yelling, too!”

“Because you’re yelling at me!”

“I fucking- I- Damnit, Dean!”

Pursing his lips, he let it go and looked away, trying to think up a plan to get them out of there.

They were chasing a monster- again- and things went south- again. They weren’t really even sure just what they were dealing with other than that it was big, fast, and conked them both on the head before they knew what was happening. The knock out sucked, but waking up trapped in a fridge was proving to be even worse.

Dean yanked his phone from his pocket and made a show of holding it up to look for bars.

“I got nothing,” he sighed, pressing random buttons just in case.

“Of course you don’t.”

“What?”

Y/N nearly growled. “We’re in a big metal box. You’re not gonna have a signal in here. It’s science.”

His nostrils flared. “Don’t ‘science’ me, Y/N/N. You know I hate that.”

She crossed her arms defiantly. “Science?”

“No. When you act like you know everything and I’m just an idiot grunt. I know things, too, OK?”

Y/N clicked her tongue and let the anger sizzle. She turned her back on Dean and slammed her fist into the door.

“Hello! Hello! Someone help us!”

Dean kicked a knee up and leaned his arm on it. “No one’s gonna hear you, it’s past one in the morning.”

Again, she banged on the door. “Hello! I’m trapped in here with a grunt person and he’s very annoying!”

He seethed. “Get over yourself.”

She glared. “You.”

Green eyes narrowed. Pink lips curled. “You.”

Y/N huffed and closed her eyes, done with him and then entire hunt. “I give up.”

Dean picked at a split nail on his left thumb. “Yeah, well, so do I.”

“Great.”

Tossing her arms up in surrender, Y/N spun and threw her back against the wall. The metal was freezing and she drew her arms in across her chest.

Silence hung between them like their breath, dancing in the air before their noses both threatening and childishly amusing.

Time ticked by and Y/N squinted, trying to read Dean’s watch from across the room.

“How long we been in here?” she asked, teeth starting to chatter noticeably.

Dean peeked at the time. “Half hour, maybe. Dunno.”

She shivered. “Wonderful.”

“You cold?”

She shrugged. “A little.”

Hoping to his feet, Dean shrugged off his top layer and walked across the fridge, holding it out for her.

“Take it.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

A heavy sigh came out like dragon’s breath and Dean ducked down to grab her arm, lifting her onto her feet. “Come on. Just take it.”

“What about you?” She looked up with worried eyes, finally over the annoyance and throbbing headache.

“Ah, I’ll be fine. I’m layered.” He winked as he tossed the green canvas over her shoulders and buttoned the top button. “There ya go. Better?”

Y/N nodded. “Thanks.”

It was a thousand times better. The jacket was a little smelly, tinged with smoke and gun oil and something that was similar to but not altogether taco seasoning. Still, it was warm and Y/N sank into the heat as she calculated how long they could last in thirty eight degrees.

Dean watched her closely. “You’re doing math,” he said with a soft laugh. “I know that nose crinkle anywhere.”

Y/N gasped, feigning offence. “I don’t have a math face.”

“Sure you don’t.” He licked his lips and shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about the cold,” he told her, moving away to inspect the food lining the walls.

“Yeah? What would you worry about?”

“Oxygen.”

She tried not to show her nervousness. “W-what?”

Picking through a box of vegetables, he nodded. “Yeah. We’re in a big metal box, right? Probably sealed up real good. You should be more worried about running out of air. We’ll suffocate before we freeze to death.”

The chill gripped her bones and Y/N’s eyes went wide. In her worst nightmares, she was always drowning or suffocating, dying in some horrid fashion unable to breathe. Her lip trembled.

“Dean, I-”

Her voice cracked with fear and he turned, smug and unaffected.

“Wait a minute.” Her brain defrosted and she sneered. “You asshole. There’s vents right there!” She shoved a hand towards the back right corner of the fridge. “We’re not gonna suffocate. But you may die bloody if you keep this up.”

“Hey, now-”

An apple flew at his head and Dean dodged it at the last second.

“Hey!”

“You should eat more fruit anyway,” she jeered.

“Oh, I’ll eat more fruit, alright!”

Y/N laughed. “How is that a come back? Are you threatening me by threatening to eat better?”

Dean’s face turned as red as the aerial apple. “I- You- Damnit. Shut up.”

“You are an idiot.”

“And you are more frustrating than a- a-”

“A what?”

“A something very frustrating…”

Again, they dropped into quiet, each on their own side of the six by nine foot room.

When her worry grew too strong, Y/N cracked the silence. “Sam will come get us, right?” she blurted, words exploding like a cloud of smoke from her lips.

Dean chewed his lip and nodded, though his face was twisted with concern. “Yeah. Totally. Hundred percent. He’s probably on his way right now.”

She didn’t believe him. Sam hadn’t even known where they were going and the GPS on their phones was dead because their phones were dead. “Yeah…”

“Yeah…”

Y/N picked at a string inside the sleeve of his jacket. Her fingers were painfully cold, the tip of her nose felt like ice, her ears were numb.

“I don’t wanna die in here,” she whispered, looking up at the big handle-less door.

Dean’s jaw twitched as he swallowed down a rush of worry. “We won’t. I promise.” Her eyes flickered over to him and guilt walloped Dean in the chest. “What, you don’t believe me?” he teased, hoping to get her to laugh.

She shrugged, too cold to argue. Back still against the door, she folded in on herself, tucking her chin to her chest and hugging her knees.

Even from across the room he could see how badly she was shaking, and it made him realize he was vibrating with cold as well.

“This is stupid,” he sighed, pushing up and away from the nearly freezing floor.

Y/N watched him stalk across the fridge, fear leaking into her face as he got close.

“W-what’re you doing- Oh!”

Dean sat down before she could stop him and pulled her close, crushing her face into his chest. He was cold too, but the added layers had given him a little temperature cushion, and Y/N sank into his residual warmth. She exhaled hard and slid her hands beneath his flannel, hugging tight.

“Fuck, you’re so warm.”

Dean rested his chin on the top of her head. “No, you’re just icy.” He could hear her teeth clinking together and he rubbed his hands vigorously down her back and upper arms. “Figure we can share some body heat before it’s all gone.”

She didn’t respond.

Y/N closed her eyes and let him take care of her, resisting the urge to make a nasty comment or start their fight up again. There was never a reason for their continuous bickering except for the obvious, unrequited love story brimming beneath the surface of their friendship. And it wasn’t as if they didn’t know of each other’s feelings, it was just that life was too hard already, and adding a romantic relationship into the mix felt like more work than it was worth.

So they fought.

A lot.

He felt good wrapped around her, somewhat warm and mostly soft. She ran her fingers up his back and the muscles flexed, shoving too many ideas into her head.

“Thank you,” she purred, curling deeper into him.

Dean sucked on his bottom lip and closed his eyes as he breathed her in. She smelled like apples. Not like the artificial apple flavoring that for some reason was always neon green; no, she smelled like fresh apples on a tree. Like he was walking through a sunlit orchard with her, hands clasped, smiles bright and-

“Uh-” Dean shook himself and cleared his throat. “Yeah. No problem. Could be a while before Sammy tracks us down so-”

“Yeah. But he will. I know he will.”

His heart was beating fast, she could hear it if she pressed her ear to the center of him. It beat a little faster when her hand slid from his back to his hip, faster still when she lay it on his thigh.

“Dean?”

Too afraid that his voice would break, he hummed without moving his lips. “Hmm?”

She hooked her nails along the seam of his jeans and tugged slightly.

“I’ve read that skin-to-skin contact is the best for… sharing body heat…”

His heart pounded like a jackhammer.

Y/N grinned.

“There ya go getting all sciency on me again.”

She bit her lip and pulled back, looking up at him. “Science has been known to save lives, you know.” She shifted, twisting around so that she was up on her knees, eye level with him. “Just a thought… Maybe we should-”

Green eyes went wide. “Oh, hell yes.”

He reached for her face; giant right hand sliding against her cheek and pulling her in.

The kiss was awkward and uncertain. Y/N couldn’t stop a laugh from bubbling up inside and Dean couldn’t decide which was to tilt his head. They faltered and pulled away, looking anywhere but at each other.

Y/N coughed. “Well. That was-”

Dean frowned and shrugged. “I mean, as far as first kisses go, it was really-”

“Rather…”

“Shit.”

Y/N laughed and turned back to him, hiding her face in her hands. “It really was.”

Dean sat up straight and squared his shoulders. “We can do better.”

“You sound so sure.”

His smirk was too much to handle. “Practice makes perfect.”

It really did.

Their next kisses were the good kind of sloppy and they quickly found a rhythm, falling head first into each other. Shirts were cast aside, jeans were wriggled out of, and boots flew across the floor. Hands explored, tongues tasted, pleasures were matched. Their breath floated above them in foggy crystalline clouds and friction kept them alive.

When the door finally opened, they were lounging together by the back wall, tangled up, laughing and squirting whipped cream into each other’s mouths.

Sam burst in, gun raised, brow furrowed and sweaty. Panting, he took a quick look around before his eyes settled on the two captives.

“Hey! I- uh-” Lowering his gun, he straightened up, entire form on edge as he struggled to explain the scene to himself. “What’s going on?”

“Sammy!” Dean beamed from the floor, a bit of cream hanging from the corner of his lip. “What took ya so long?”

Visually offended, Sam averted his eyes. “Looking for you,” he said firmly. “Again, what is going on?”

Y/N laughed and licked the whipped topping from Dean’s mouth. “We got hungry. There was pastry…really good cannoli-like thing.” She looked at Dean. “It was a cannoli, right?” He nodded. “Yeah. And then I found this thing of whipped cream and…ya know… we’re eating it.”

Exasperated, Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah. OK. But… Why are you naked?”

Dean chuckled and grinned up at his little brother. “Science.”

Y/N nodded and stuck the cream nozzle into her mouth. “Science!”

Done with his brother, his friend, the case, and anything else that God wanted to throw his way, Sam hung his head and turned away, heading back into the warmth of the dark restaurant kitchen. “Science.”

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[dioslesbianwife]

Helloooo!! I'm the anon that requested the reader that is Jotaro's adopted sister. Your hcs were so fun to read!!

I would like to request some more of the same HC? But more in detail if that's okay? Basically how the reader would go against DIO as a whole (like a mini-fic?) because I just find it so funny.

I don't have any ideas for her stand but she has a similar combat style to Jotaro.

sure, im glad you liked them!! thank you for being patient with me on this- got sick and was conked out basically the whole of last week lol

Jotaro had one rule.

One damn rule.

"Stay out of the fight. Don’t follow me. Don’t get involved."

And yet, here you were- standing in front of DIO, fists clenched, your breath heavy, and that same burning rage in your eyes that Jotaro had.

DIO tilted his head, amused. “So, another Kujo has come to throw their life away.” He grinned, golden eyes flickering with interest. “How utterly endearing.”

You spat to the side. “Shut the hell up.”

Jotaro was going to kill you. If Dio didn’t do it first.

But you weren’t backing down.

Your Stand- though not as refined as Star Platinum- mimicked his speed, his raw power. You fought like Jotaro, punched like Jotaro, and unfortunately for Dio, had Jotaro’s piss-poor attitude.

“Let’s see if you’re worth my time.” DIO vanished.

You barely had a second to react before pain bloomed across your ribs.

Shit.

You were fast, but he was faster. The impact sent you skidding across the pavement, crashing through a pile of debris. Blood trickled from your temple, but you still pushed yourself up, growling.

DIO chuckled. “You should’ve stayed home, little Kujo.”

You wiped the blood from your mouth. “Yeah? And you should’ve stayed dead.”

Then you rushed him. Your Stand’s fists flew in a blur- each strike aimed with precision, anger, and sheer spite. Dio dodged effortlessly at first, mocking you, laughing in your face- until you landed a solid hit to his jaw.

For a moment, he looked shocked.

Then? He looked pissed.

“Why, you little-”

Jotaro’s voice cut through the chaos like a gunshot.

“Oi, dumbass!”

You turned- just in time to see him flying toward DIO, fist cocked back.

“ORA!!”

Your Stand moved in perfect sync with Star Platinum, both of you slamming into Dio at once. The force sent him crashing through a wall, his inhuman screech ringing through the empty streets.

You grinned, panting. “Not bad, huh?”

Jotaro grabbed your collar and yanked you back.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” He looked furious- but beneath it, concern.

You just gave him a bloody smile. “Relax, aniki. We’re winning.”

Jotaro let out a long, suffering sigh.

DIO groaned, pulling himself from the rubble, his wounds already healing. “Tch… annoying pests.”

Jotaro cracked his knuckles. “Time to finish this.” You smirked, standing beside him. “Damn right.”

[spectrechosts]

Hell's Belles - Chapter 6

Full Series

Grezayla is at a party!

A mortal party, though one that looks much more like the circle of Lust than anything she ever saw in her time as a mortal. There's a lot of latex, and rope, and touching, and-

Well, succubi.

Brizora is bullying rope bunnies, and Azaerixia is surrounded by helpless dommes struggling to keep up with her desires, and Grezayla is… also there, currently between clients as the mortals start to get worn out. The girls like to bring her along for group assignments, it's a good way to get her name out there, but she does tend to flounder a bit as things wind down. All the mortals are either passed out or occupied with the other two, so she decides to waste some time on her phone.

"Heyyyyy, Grezayla!" Azzy says, startling her to attention. All the mortals are conked out now, and she has a mischievous smile on her face. "We're going to the mall! You wanna come?"

"I- The mall?" Grezayla asks.

"Yeah!"

"But we're-" She looks around, confused. "The party?"

"It's fiiiine! All the mortals are satisfied for now, and I was really careful with the wording on the contract! We have to fulfill the desires of the guests at the party, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I desire a trip to the mall!" Azaerixia declares proudly.

"Do- Do we count as guests?"

"Well, we don't live here, do we?" She says, putting a finger to her cheek thoughtfully. "We were invited to the party, right?"

"We're sure as hell not caterers," says Brizora, conjuring a jacket onto herself and checking it out in the mirror.

Grezayla fidgets nervously.

"How are we gonna get there?" She asks.

"Brizora can steal a car!" Azaerixia squeals excitedly. "Let's go!"

"W-Won't the mortals know that we-"

"Nuh-uh! We'll like walk a block away and steal a car, drive to the mall, pop back to Lust, come back here through the summoning circle, and nobody will even notice we left!"

"Well…" Grezayla ponders. The mortals are all asleep, and she is kinda bored. "Okay."

"Yes!!!" Azaerixia squeaks. "Let's go!!!"

"AZZY I'M NOT REALLY SURE ABOUT THIS!" Grezayla shouts as they careen through the streets, music blaring. The tires squeal as Brizora slams the brakes and skids through a turn, jumping the curb and clipping a stop sign before swerving back onto the road.

"WHAT?" Azaerixia yells back, bopping along to her deafening club mix.

"THE MUSIC IS REALLY LOUD I CAN'T-"

"YEAH IT'S REALLY GOOD RIGHT?" She replies, only half hearing her. "HANG ON THIS IS THE BEST BIT COMING UP!!!"

Grezayla knows the point is to be fast, but this seems really… conspicuous? Like, people have to have noticed them. Aren't they supposed to be like, low-profile when they're in the mortal world?

Brizora says something drowned out by the music, and then there's a horrendous clatter as they crash through the glass doors of the mall and screech to a halt in the concourse. Alarms wail horribly in their wake, but Azzy ignores them and scampers out.

Really conspicuous.

"Okay, what do you want to get?" She asks, as Grezayla climbs out of the dented car and glides over the broken glass.

"Uh-"

She… hadn't really thought about it? If she wants something Lilith will usually just give it to her.

"Nothing, I guess?" She says, and Azzy waves dismissively and grabs her hand.

"Well that's the fun of shopping!" She says. "Sometimes you don't know what you want until you see it!"

They browse the clothing stores (prudish, but not impossible to glean inspiration from), the music stores (Azzy is always looking to expand the playlist), and the makeup stores (very little stock in their color), before finally coming across what Azaerixia actually came here for.

"Ooooooh they have one they have a pet store!!!" She squeals, bouncing on her heels and flapping her hands.

"Don't we already have plenty of pet stuff?" Grezayla asks, and Azzy shakes her head.

"It doesn't fit him! It's all people size!" She says, rushing in eagerly. "Besides, what if there's something we don't have? Like, um… Ooh! Treats! He needs treats, Grezzy."

Okay well she can't argue with that, that's just true, of course he needs treats.

"He needs these ones, and these ones, and um, um, these, and- you know what? He can try them all!" Azaerixia says as bags of dog treats vanish in puffs of pink smoke, before she slowly levitates the entire shelf into the air and teleports the whole thing back to hell. "All the regular dog food too!" She says, sending another shelf down. "Need to find his favorite after all!"

"They're going to be so confused when they open the mall in the morning." Grezayla muses absentmindedly.

"Oh, that reminds me, I should go wipe the cameras so we don't end up on the news." Brizora says. "Back in a sec."

"Oh, Grezayla look look at thiissss!" Azaerixia squeals. "A widdle raincoat and booooots! He needs these too, for sure!"

"Does it rain sometimes in Lust?"

"No, but just imagine how cute he'll look!" She says, already spiriting them away. "And a lil sailor outfit, and a cowboy hat, and some jammies, and- oh look at this hoodie with little plush horns and wings! He'll fit right in! Oh this was the best idea. And a bow tie, and a bunny costume, and- OHMIGOSH!"

Azaerixia hops the checkout counter and squeals.

"They have a machine for making custom dog tags! Oh what shape do I want, what shape…"

Grezayla joins her as the machine powers on, and the screen asks them to log in.

"AUUUGH!" Azzy whines. "How am I supposed to know how to do that!?"

"Wait, try looking under the keyboard." Suggests Grezayla.

Azzy lifts the keyboard, and underneath is a sticky note with the login info.

"Yes!" She says, fist pumping. "Hacking is easy! We're so fucking smart! Okay where do they keep the blank tags…"

Grezayla's phone vibrates.

'cameras are wiped and turned off', writes Brizora. 'also the cops are here i'm ouutttt lol see u back at the party'

"Oh shit." Grezayla swears. "Azzy we gotta get out of here the cops are coming!"

"Hold on I'm still picking out a tag shape! Do I want a pink bone because he likes bones or a pink heart because I love him or a pink pawpad because his lil paws are so cute…"

"Um, I don't… Why not make one of each, I guess?"

"Grezzy." Azaerixia says. "Grezzy you are so so smart. Okay three tags, and I'm gonna engrave them wiiiiith… Umm….."

Grezayla fidgets nervously. She doesn't know how much time they have before they get caught and she really really doesn't want to get caught.

"Just put his name on it!" She says.

"I haven't thought of a name yeeeetttt…" Azaerixia whines. "It's so hard! I have to call him that forever! What if he doesn't like it? What if I think of a better one later?"

"Azzyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

"Listen, it's fine, I'll handle the cops, okay?" She says, and she hops back over the counter and leaves the pet store.

"Azzy, Azzy no, let's just leave before they-"

"Stop! Hands in the air!"

"Find us!" Grezayla squeaks, putting her hands up.

"Hiiiiiii~!" Azaerixia greets the two officers approaching them, waving enthusiastically.

"-Two women in costume, unarmed, possibly intoxicated." One says into their radio, before clicking it off. "Hands in the air miss."

"Okaaaaaaaay!" Azzy says, forming a heart in front of her face with her hands before blowing them a kiss through it.

"Hands outstretched above your head, miss. Have you been drink-"

The officer is cut off as the blown kiss explodes into unholy flame, searing the flesh from their bones in an instant. All that remains of the two mortals is scorch-marks on the floor and the purple cinders that drift slowly through the air before flickering out.

"Fuck 12!" Azzy proclaims, posing triumphantly before scampering back to the tag machine. Grezayla sighs and follows, relieved that that's dealt with, if not in the… most subtle way.

"Okay think, puppy names, he is little and brown what are good names… Ummmm… Chocolate Chip… Toffee… Gingerbread… Brownie….."

"Azzy?"

"Brown Sugar… Caramel Swirl… Maple Syrup… Mocha Frappuccino….."

"Azzy are these names or are you craving sweets?"

"I don't knoooooowwwww, AUGH!"

"…Caramel Swirl would be a kinda cute name for him." Grezayla says. "His fur does have that mix of like-"

"Like dark and light swirled together, right? Like he's chocolate and caramel!" Azaerixia says, typing. "And cause he's soooooo sweet and cute I just wanna eat him up!"

She starts the engraving, satisfied.

"Do you think they're going to send more cops?" Grezayla asks, as the machine whirs.

"Probably! We should really leave after I finish these."

[theonetruegnome]

Garçon, Another!

I felt a gnawing hunger for more oversharing and madness, so here we are! Sorry in advance for the long post. I think we should do Kickin' next, my favourite of the boys. Introducing,

Conk-out Cockerel!

This purple-plumed poultry is well known among friends and strangers for his odd sleeping tendencies. While yes, Conk could conceivably fall asleep just about anywhere, his body seems to prefer either somewhere quiet and secluded, such as his coop or the attic of a friend's house, or in the literal middle of the street (Has happened several dozen times), anywhere where people frequent or somewhere very awkward, no in between at all. He has mild narcolepsy, and never really sleeps well at night when he ought to, only really sleeping in 5-10 minute bursts randomly throughout the day. Poor Conk just sort of wanders around at night until he gets tired and drifts off where he stands or finds a friend with insomnia he can chat to. He can't really help them much, as his sleep inducing thing (such as catnap's gas, snoozy sow's tea [credit to @funny-critter-blog] or tusker tiredon's bat [credit to @smilingcrittersthingig]) is really his stories.

The tales he learnt from his family as a chick just cause other people to drop off for some reason, so he tries to tell his friends stories to help them rest. Unfortunately, 'Guy who falls unconscious randomly' and 'powers activated by talking' aren't the best combo, so juuuust as they're closing their eyes and nodding off, *SLAM* Conk faceplants into the floor. His friends all love him, but they worry about his health and sleeping habits. Conk just tells them he can't really stop or it, so he just has to live with it and they shouldn't worry about him.

His whole shabang isn't just that though! He really enjoys just living what he can, meaning he tries to make as many good memories with his friends as he can while still conscious, as well as telling his stories and writing new ones when he can. True, this often causes a sort of jigglypuff situation with all his friends asleep by the end but what can he really do about it? His favourite flavour of ice-cream is 'Anything berry or with two flavours in one' and due to his habits of falling asleep at the most inopportune times, he tends to speak quite fast so he can get it all out in time.

He also sports furry booties, partly because they muffle his footsteps when he checks on his friends so he doesn't disturb them (he knows how it feels to have irregular sleeping patterns) but also because I thought It would be cute on the little man.

His pendant is a brown hardback book with three 'z's on it and his scent is marigold.

[thousand-winters]

I headcanon years of exhaustion sometimes just catch up to Hunter randomly, and he just falls asleep anywhere, especially cuddled up to Darius and/or Eberwolf

Oof, I can see that, especially considering that one comment Zeno had made about Hunter not being used to how comfortable hugs are and just conking out whenever someone hugs him.

Even if he was sleeping better in the Human Realm, on behalf of not having the duties of a soldier anymore and feeling somewhat safe for the first time in his life, it didn't seem to be enough to catch up on all the rest he needs from pretty much years of sleep deprivation. It's likely he wasn't resting too well even if he had the time, because even if he was avoiding thinking about all of his trauma, the secrets Luz and him were hiding weren't exactly making for the most calm of experiences, and it's probable too that he had nightmares about everything despite refusing to address the issues while awake.

I don't think avoiding everything is going to be an option anymore after everything. He might want to try, but after Flapjack's death and now that they're back on the Demon Realm and he's living with Darius and Eberwolf, he doesn't have an excuse like "oh, I have to focus on trying to build a portal" or "I don't have time to think about what happened to me because I need to plan for where I'm gonna live and what I'm gonna do". For the first time in his life, he's going to have an stable living situation and while there will be a kinda awkward period of adjustment while Darius, Eber and him get used to their new dynamic, he's still the safest he's ever been in all senses, which means all of that trauma is finally going to catch up on him.

As a result, I think the nightmares are going to get a lot worse at the beginning, and without a goal to gather energy to fulfill, he truly is going to have no choice but to feel and process whatever he's feeling and that alone is going to be exhausting.

So, Darius or Eber hug him? He closes his eyes and he's half asleep like five seconds into the hug. He's sitting at the table waiting for breakfast and his head almost slams on the table because he started snoozing accidentally. He sits down on the couch and he tries to keep his eyes open but they're already half-closed by the time one of the other two join him. They're out in town and Darius feels him leaning against him and suddenly more and more of his weight is resting on him. It's a bit concerning but they figure that he has a LOT of sleep to catch up on and if he merely needs to rest, then there's no harm done, though they probably try to double check with a healer just in case.

If he's by Darius or Eber's side while sitting down, they just hug him closer and adjust him enough so his neck won't be sore when he wakes up, but they let him sleep. If they're out, Darius has no problem giving him a piggyback ride or carrying him until they get home and he can lay him down on a bed. Unless Hunter has a previous commitment he really has to attend or he has to eat or anything like that, they try to let him sleep, and only make sure he's comfortable and warm.

Hunter finds it a bit embarrassing and probably has that learned guilt of "I'm being far too lazy and they're going to get fed up with me eventually" because of all those years with Belos, but overtime he relaxes a bit because neither of them seems to really mind. In fact, suddenly there are more pillos and blankets on the couch, on the back of chairs at the dining table and anywhere that Hunter could feasibly fall asleep on.

It feels a bit baffling since once again the house is looking a bit messier because of his presence but Darius, who's the only one who could be vaguely irritated by it, was even the one to suggest it, and as odd as it is, Hunter does like the feeling of being cared for like this.

[2gayy2functionnn]

Don’t say Forever- Chapter 2

TW: Mentions of ED, Mentions of dead bodies

When she woke up the first place she thought she was in was hell. She wasn’t very far off, but she wasn’t dead.

The banging on her door continued and she laid there tangled in her sheets hoping it would stop. The door slammed open hitting the wall. 

“Didn’t you hear me knock” Regina snarls crossing her arms.

“I think the whole neighborhood did” I shoot back rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and sitting up in my bed a little bit. Regina rolls her eyes and scoffs before looking me up and down. 

“God, just come down for dinner. My mom says we can’t eat until you’re there. I’m hungry. So get your stupid ass down there. Got it” Regina commands not waiting for my response. I grumble to myself, just wanting to lay back down in my bed. 

I reluctantly force myself to stand up and go over to the closet overbearing with clothes. My immediate thought is “Fuck to the No” Everything either has pink or sparkles and neither of those exist in my dictionary so i walk over to my small duffel bag and pull out a pair of black sweatpants and a oversized zip up up that belongs to Damian.

I softly slip down the stairs in my socked feet. I reach the dining room and see the “happy” family having dinner and immediately feel like an imposter. I want to turn right back around, but before i can even think about it. Mrs George is walking up and escorting me to my seat. She plops me down next to kiley, who’s stabbing her chicken with a fork and picking it apart and secretly feeding it to the dog.

“Oh honey” She says pressing a hand to my cheek. She looks softly at my face and clucks. I blush immediately as i feel the touch on my face. I can’t remember the last person other than damian who’s touched me with care. It makes me squirm uncomfortably. 

“Maybe Regina, was right you do look flushed” She says softly. Regina laughs then coughs a bit as a peice of food gets stuck in her throat.

“Right?” I say confused and stare at the platinum blonde. She smirks back at me.

“She said when she went up there you were conked out and said you didn’t want to come down because you weren’t feeling 100 percent” Mrs George says softly still having a hand on my forehead. I narrow my eyes at Regina.

Oh. So i could’ve stayed up there. Also way to make me feel welcome, I guess. 

“yeah” i say coughing slightly. “I’m not feeling too hot maybe i should go back up” I say. Mr George stares at me, acting as if he can read every thought in my mind. 

“Well Janis, If your sure” June says her eyes frantically moving between eveyone at the table. I stand up quickly.

“I’m sure” i say. I want to go upstairs now. So i do. I walk fast and slam the door behind me and throw myself on the bed. 

I miss my mom, and my grandma. Even my ass hole dad who beat the shit out of me would be better than this hellhole. I think as i sob into my pillow. I can’t trust anyone in this world and everyday it makes it more and more clear. 

I lay in bed for a bit and start to sketch some in my journal. Various pictures of dead bodies. I open my phone find the most recent autopsy photo i can, and go to town. I’m so focused on my task, I don’t hear my door slightly open. 

“Hey” a person says startling me, making me jump and look up quickly. Regina stands there, clad in a satin pink pajama set and soft slippers. I blush and look down.

“Janis” she repeats sighing annoyed. I look up and meet her eyes. She tosses an uncrustable and banana at me. 

“Thanks for fucking off” She says softly. The kindest i’ve seen her been since 8th grade. I nod softly. She still stares at me.

“anything else” i ask looking up at her icy eyes. Before looking back down at the food and opening the uncrustable.

“Mom said i have to drive you tommorow. If your not in my car at 7:10 your ass is getting left here understand. Also wear something better than that oversized shit. I know your tiny but clothes really shouldn’t be that big on you” She scoffs crossing her arms. 

“It’s damian’s, I don’t have anything else” i say softly looking down at my pillow. Regina bites her lip and debates something in her head. 

“If i show you something, don’t be a wise ass about it or think I actually like you or something, Ok?” She says tapping her foot. I nod and twist my pen in my hand. 

She walks into my closet and comes out with a trashbag. 

“I knew you would hate the shit my mom picked out, So i went to a thrift store and grabbed some ugly shit, I thought you would like.” She says throwing it down next to me. I look at it wide eyed than Regina.

“Thank you?” I say. Regina scoffs crosses her arms then exits with a slam. 

What the fuck was that.

                                     ***

Janis gets out of her shower steaming hot. Her hair drips down her back as she frantically searches the trash bag for any form of pajamas. Looks like the queen bee forgot something. She is forced to look in the actual closet. Luckily she finds a black satin set while not the most practical, still comfy and works for now.

She lays her clothing out for tomorrow, as her phone bings and lights up on the bed. She walks over expecting it to be damian to give his goodnight call. But suprisingly it’s an unknown number.

Janis scoffs and changes her contact name before replying and lying down in her bed. As she sits she accidently sits on the banana and uncrustable from earlier. Maybe she should eat. Than she looks down at her stomach and realizes. 

She needs a break.

 Janis is more than positive she doesn’t snore! Yet as she falls asleep she makes sure to put her sleep clocked app on. 

You know.

Just in case.

[naivesilver]

okay okay so how about “what’s up, kiddo?” or “well, when i was a kid…” OR “pff. what are you, my [dad/mom/parent]?” from the parent and child relationship ask for, predictably, anyone court related (leroy, leona, lampwick, emma if you like)? basically, any thousand problems vers. because I love them very much (:

I have a suspicion that you put some of those suggestions in there knowing FULL WELL what you were doing 😒❤️

Parent/child prompts

"Pff. What are you, my [dad/mom/parent]?”

By the time Leroy's done chewing Happy up for his dumb idea and has climbed back onto the truck, the boy looks ready to fall asleep, his head lolling against the window as if filled with rocks. 

On a normal day, Leroy would be more than happy to let Lampwick conk out, because the gods know that kid doesn't get enough sleep, but as this is not a normal day, and rocks would probably make better decisions anyway, he slams the door closed and starts the engine with a little more force than usual, keeping the volume up as he speaks. “Oh, no, kid, you're not escaping this. Look alive or I'm leaving you at the dump site.”

Lampwick whines like a kicked dog, rubbing a hand down his face. “Nobody asked you to come anyway.”

“Doc asked. And it's a good thing he did, ‘cause if he'd let Happy drive after getting you pissing drunk-”

“You're making a big deal out of nothing. I had like- a beer.” The boy wavers, his eyes momentarily unfocusing before he snaps back into the conversation. “Maybe two beers. Or three. But it's whatever. Stop shouting.”

Leroy has to laugh, then, because it would be very fucking funny if he weren't so angry. “Give me a break. You're sixteen. That ain't a call you can make anywhere around here, you little idiot.”

“You do worse all the time, why're you getting on my case now?”

Good question. Why? Why did it set Leroy's blood boiling to find out this stupid redheaded brat was being offered drinks by his brothers - people he trusts not to drive a teenager to alcohol poisoning, at the very least? Why did his stomach sink alongside that, of all things?

He thinks he has some kind of answer, deep down. Unfortunately, right now he'd rather chew on glass than spit it out, so the next best thing is to snap “‘Cause if you don’t have the sense to know what you’re not supposed to be doing, you’ve got no business copying what I do, kid!”

Lampwick has the gall to scoff at that, thick skull that he is. “What are you, my dad? You’ve got no business telling me what I can or can’t do. I was having fun. If you can’t get off my dick about that, maybe I’m better off walking home, you know?”

That stings. Damn him, he probably doesn’t mean even half of it, but it still stings. “Yeah? Maybe I should kick you out, then- you’re stinking up my seat,” Leroy grumbles morosely. “Ungrateful little shit.”

But he doesn’t hit the brakes, and Lampwick doesn’t try climbing out of a moving vehicle despite his clear lack of survival instinct, so they continue on in morose silence for a long while, until the dwarf hears a sudden, suffocated mumble coming from his right. “Shit- Leroy?”

What now? “Yeah?”

“Think ‘m gonna be sick.”

He stops the truck with an abrupt screeching of tires, which is barely enough as is, because he has just about the time to get his foot off the brake before the boy has pushed the door open and is doubling over halfway out, puking most of his ill-timed party onto the side of the road. It’s a good thing it’s night, and not a particularly fair-weathered one at that - Emma likes that young knucklehead, alright, but even she would probably make him clean up the mess he’s just made in a public place if she was alerted, and Leroy too, for the misfortune of being around when it happened.

For his part, Leroy takes the time to curse whatever choice in life that’s made him less grumpy towards this one kid in particular, then climbs out of his seat and makes his way around the truck, waiting for Lampwick to take a breather between retches before he tries speaking again. “No use telling you to quit treating yourself like that, is it?”

The boy inhales slowly and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his face so pale that his freckles look like little wounds under the streetlights. “You know that won’t do nothing, old man.”

“I figured as much. Can you at least promise me you’ll call me the next time the room starts spinning- I can’t rely on Doc forever, he barely knows how to use a phone.”

“Why? Don’t you got anything better to do with your life?”

“Yeah, I do.” Leroy rolls his eyes, praying for patience, but still when Lampwick keels over again his hand is there, pushing the kid’s hair out of his sweaty face.

“But so do you. You fix this shit first, and then I’ll stop answering the phone, deal?”