#also pretend the other half of his face is there haha

[soosoosoup]

He's got a lot of hug times to catch up on.

In case you wanna see w/o background :)

[crabonfire]

sick mercs (1/3)

characters: offense class

warnings: none, fluff and crack (I think)

note: I hate making things into parts BUUTTT pyros ALONE ended up being super long, so I'm making them based off of class!! and...its 2 am so I should probably be asleep instead of writing anyway. Parts 2 and 3 will feature the other classes, and will be written tomorrow! Cause its late and I'm tired! okay love u

no but why did I make pyros so long 😭 it was a whole fic wtf

reposts and shares appreciated (u///u)<3

♡Scout♡

•When he's sick he's SUPPPERRR dramatic over it cause when he was a kid his ma was super doting and stuff, and since he was the youngest it made sense. But with you he tries to be all suave and tough, not wanting to admit the fever he has is absolutely killing him, oh the runny nose he has? That's just cause...he...ate something spicy. Not cause of a flu, no...

•He makes an effort to not talk or see the team at all today, and weirdly, he only ever gets sick on ceasefire days. It's like his body isn't used to not doing anything and that gives him a chance to do a bunch of stupid stuff, that, in the end, gets him sick.

•So he's stuck in his room. When you or anyone else knock on his door he pretends he's asleep, and sometimes, he really is. But, when you catch him in the kitchen stealing one of Heavy's sandwiches, he's sniffling, his face slightly red (redder than usual) his expression one like a kicked puppy.

•When you confront him about it, he just acts like he's not sick.

"I'm not sick, okay?"

But when you put your foot down, getting him back to bed and getting the right medicine from the medic, he has this certain look on his face. His cheeks are red, probably because of his fever, but, it might also be caused by you.

The moment your voice turns soft, or stern, depending on how kind you wanna be to his stubbornness, his lips curl into a grin, and immediately he whines and melts, acting like his sickness is the end of the world.

"Ah, my head...ohhhh my head. Hurts so bad. Maybe if ya kiss it...I'll feel better." He says, his voice weak as he closes his eyes, shifting in bed like some sort of damsel in distress.

• He'd be real obedient as you give him medicine and stuff, and stare up at you with bright eyes, as if the little fucker wasn't acting so brave about it before. The moment anyone walks in or sees him being doted, he'll push you away (maybe even physically, in panic) cause he's scared to ruin his reputation.

But when they're gone, he'll apologize and cling to you like a parasite. Muttering and mumbling incoherent things for your attention. He's an ass, but he loves you.

• He'd always tell you how much he appreciates you as you stay by his side, his very dizzy and sick brain making him slur his words, that cheeky grin still plastered on his face.

"You care about me...haha."

"You're so sweet, you love me, don't you?"

You know how some people get super weird and sorta high when they're super sick? Yeah that's scout with you.

♡Soldier♡

• Like Scout, absolutely DENIES that he's sick.

"SICKNESS AND DISEASE IS MERELY A HOAX! AN EXCUSE CREATED BY COMMUNISTS TO SPREAD THEIR LIES ABOUT AMERICAN- ACHOO-"

• Entire day there's a gigantic frown on his face, he cannot stop sneezing. He sneezed on Scout, and Scout was convinced that he was gonna die.

Engineer is the first to speak up after seeing the soldier violently sneeze without closing his nose. But, his stubbornness gets in the way and he merely brushes him off. Then, half the team begs you to talk to him. So you do.

"Hey Soldier, uh, you...you're looking a little pale."

"PALE? WELL, I GUESS MY SKIN HAS BEEN LOOKING GOOD TODAY!"

You chuckled, "No, pale in a bad way. And I notice you've been sneezing a bunch, are you feeling okay? Did you catch a cold?"

He frowns, and yet again, denies any accusation that he's sick. It doesn't take long, though, when you convince him to stay in his room (or yours, which he'd prefer) so you could "surprise" him. He takes that as an invitation for something else and was a little disappointed when he realized it was a trick to get him to rest.

"Wait...THIS IS A TRAP! YOU'VE TRAPPED ME! HELP-"

He starts to yell as you take his helmet off. You simply laugh, placing it nearby. "Yeah. I trapped you, and now, I order you to stay in bed while I go get some medicine. Am I clear?"

He scoffs at your command. "And what if I DON'T stay?" He remarked, you frowned. "Then you'll be disappointing all the...Americans that spent so much time curating and- crafting the very medication that keeps us healthy."

You made that shit up on the spot, but you knew whenever you spoke to him like a commander did, he'd always listen. He thought about it for a moment and grumbled in reply;

"Fine."

• He does as you ask, staying completely still in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a frown, occasionally muttering things to himself as if this very action is the worst thing in the world. When you come back, tray in hand with medicine and a glass of water, his expression softens slightly.

You sit down on the bed, he sits up, and as you hand him the medicine, something warm grows in his chest. He stays silent as he takes the medicine reluctantly, before he stares at you with an unreadable expression.

You smile ask what's wrong but he shakes his head. A big grin appears on his face as he realizes something and he chuckles, but he doesn't tell you what he's thinking about.

"Thanks, cupcake."

• You take care of him, keeping a watch on him for a while as you beg him to get some rest for his cold. He agrees but only if you stay with him, and you do. He holds you tightly as he braves through his cold, head nuzzled in your shoulder as your treated like a Teddy bear.

He felt happy. Someone cared for him, and he didn't know why, but that realization made his heart feel full. Not the type of full he'd usually feel after a hard victory, or the type of full he'd feel after messing around with demoman all day, but a type of full he could feel only with you. He really cared for you, and he was honored you cared for him just as much.

♡Pyro♡

• You could honestly never tell pyro was sick. Sometimes they'd spend days with you as normal, very much sick, but they'd never show it. That's also because they had a strong immune system, and only got sick every couple of years or so.

The one time they've ever gotten sick around you, was during the hottest day in Teufort. Everyone was sweating their asses off, so you could imagine how bad it was for them. Having to be around fire, wearing a heavy, thick, fire retardant suit all day? Oh, it was bad.

They sat at the locker room for longer after battle had ended, seemingly staring off into the distance. Everyone else had left, so did you. But when they didn't come out for an hour or so you checked in on them, visibly worried.

"Pi? You okay?"

You saw them, still sitting in the same bench, looking off into the ground. You walked over to them, placing a hand on their shoulder. They jolted, as if awoken from a deep sleep. They turned their head, their breathing was loud in the quiet room, but it was heavy and ragged. You frowned in worry.

"What's wrong?"

• They muffled something even you couldn't understand, their voice was quiet, before they shook their head and got up. They almost stumbled, but you kept their balance. They leaned their head on your shoulder, and you could feel the heavy breaths they exhaled through their mask. You turned to them, placing a hand on their shoulder.

"It's a hot day, huh? Can't be feeling too good especially in that suit of yours."

They mumbled in reply, and you took that as a sign that they must've been real affected by the heat today. "Lets get you to your room, I'll get you a nice cold glass of water, okay?"

• You headed back to their room, allowing them to sit for a bit as you went and got some ice cold water. You sat by, the door locked as they lifted off their mask to take a sip. You could feel the heat they radiated, even from a short distance.

"Pi, I think you might have a fever."

They chugged down the water, before turning to you, lifting their mask back down. They went quiet for a moment before they nodded. You frowned, "Why didn't you say anything?" They shrugged, shaking their head. "Mmh mmhf mmh mmh mmhf mmhf mm mmhf." (I didn't think I was sick at first.)

You sighed, before humming. "I'll go get some medicine, you should probably lie down- maybe take the suit off first. I won't look if it'll make you uncomfortable." You stared at them, waiting for their response. They paused hesitantly, before nodding.

• When you got back, they were in bed, gas mask still on, but now in their tank top and unicorn themed shorts. They didn't show their body often, as they felt insecure of the scars they had. When they saw you, they pulled the blanket up to their chest, which you didn't comment on.

You walked over with a large bottle of water and some medicine, placing it on a nearby table.

"Medic said you just need some rest and a lot of water, so...don't forget to drink."

You didn't quite know what to do with the pyro. They were quiet, which, to you wasn't that unusual. But you could feel the nervousness, and you felt worried, as they didn't seem too good. They murmured a "thank you," staring up at you as you sit by them.

"Do you want me to leave?"

In truth, you didn't want to, and they didn't want you to either. But you didn't want to make them uncomfortable, as the only other times they've showed their body to you were in intimate situations. You didn't want to overwhelm them, but you wanted to take care of them. They shook their head, before mumbling;

"Mm mmhn mmhf mm mmhh mmhf mm mmhn mmhnf mmh." (You don't have to stay if you don't want to.)

"I'll stay for a bit. You need your rest and.. I wanna make sure you're okay."

That sentence could make them melt if the heat wasn't already doing that to them. They let out a hoarse giggle. You always made them swoon, even if the things you said weren't overly romantic. It always meant a lot to them, as they never really had someone who cared.

That noise always made you smile, as you stared down at them. It was silent for a while as you two looked at each other. Even under the mask you could tell they had a smile. You've only ever seen that smile once, and the thought of it makes your heart race. You soon broke the silence, slowly getting up.

"Drink your meds and get some sleep, okay?

• As you left, they couldn't help but smile. They got up to lock the door, before taking off their mask and flopping into bed. Not forgetting to do as you said, they fall fast asleep with you on their mind.

Even in their dreams your their, and even with this small, common gesture of caring for them, they cant help but feel a bit weak in the knees when they think of you. They thought the engineer was sweet, but you? They should call you sugar.

It was the first time they had someone worry so much, the way you frowned at them made their chest tighten, and weirdly, in a reaffirming way. In a way that made them realize they weren't so bad, and they were capable of being cared for.

Maybe they were getting too into it, but they didn't care.

♡♡♡♡

I did not expect pyros to be long. Like I was writing and suddenly as I was looking back I realized how much I was yapping. Shit. Anyway, defense and support classes will be written by tomorrow, probably the one or both. Yay!

[hauntedpearl]

in the good spn in my head, dean and cas sneak off to cuddle between cases all the time and everyone knows about it and no one says anything.

and i don't mean, like, you know. they're hooking up or together or anything. i mean literally just. hold hands. or lie together. hug each other. simple acts of physical comfort. like that one skrog comic where cas reads the parenting books and offers dean a hug!

i think it'll start out very randomly, very unconscious. maybe somewhere in late s9, after the whole angel army thing and the Ezekiel/Gadreel thing. they're probably just hanging out together, watching a movie or something. and Dean is so tired. he's so so so tired. he just wants to rest, you know? so he doesn't notice when he starts leaning against Cas, and notices even less when he passes out and slides down into his lap. Cas, for his part is both exhilarated and scared by the proceedings so he just kind of sits all still and unmoving, one hand holding dean's shoulder so he doesn't fall on his face when he's the trying to roll over and the other resting very lightly in his hair. cas thinks it's soft. Dean's hair is soft and not rough to touch. that feels like a miracle, somehow.

when they wake up dean is suuuuuper weird about it, but then he also realizes he's slept better than he has in ages. logically, it's because he's got another breathing body in the room with him. that's always been a source of comfort. but at this point, he also knows himself and he knows that the other half of it is because that body is Cas' and his monkey brain curled up in his fantasy world where this was a regular normal occurence. but anyway. yes at first he's like haha lol weird and awkward, but then cas looks at him like 🥺🥺🥺 and dean's spine is literally a pool noodle in general when it comes to cas things so he gives up the ghost.

it's a slow and stilted start, but it escalates very quickly. first they're reluctantly sitting on the couch in the dean cave together in a way their shoulders touch, and dean awkwardly lies on cas' lap all the while his brain is like omg his dick is right there, which, you know, not very helpful. but then cas will stroke his hair or his arm and his brain is static — the good kind— and he slips into sleep so easily. a few months later, they barely think before dean's maneuvering himself against the arm of the couch and cas settles between his legs, his back to dean's chest and they just cuddle all night. Then, they start going out on drives to nowhere. they'll stop at a diner sometimes, or just drive into the middle of nowhere, and then share a beer on Baby's hood wherever they stop. This ritual is sacred to dean (has only ever done it with sam [brother] and cassie [literally so in love])so he feels super nervous the first few times and then, like everything else they've been doing, it becomes habit.

Sometime around the year/year and a half mark, dean has a pretty bad nightmare and cas senses it bc he happens to be in the bunker and he shows up in his room like are you okay??? and Dean's like yeah yeah I'm good and cas is like do you want me to put you to sleep (talking about his grace) but dean's like nods. shakes his head. nods again. and cas is like ??? so dean's just like. just get in bed with me. and take off your coat. cas is confused but again, he is like a greedy lil man, so he gets into bed and holds dean until dean's sleeping, snoring against his collarbone and cas is thinking this is probably what joy is supposed to feel like.

so that becomes a regular thing.

they're essentially dating at this point, but no one says anything and they pretend like they don't have this thing going on (barely) behind the doors. they never talk about it, they never talk to anyone about it. but it's happening. it's like a beehive. they don't want to disturb it bc they know that whatever's behind all this is probably Chaos™ and they really don't have the spoons to deal with all that.

HOWEVER, important to note: everyone who has ever stayed at the bunker has walked in on them all cuddled up at some point or the other (Sam, Kevin, Charlie, Rowena, Mary, Eileen, CLAIRE) and they also don't say anything but this is kind of why everyone knows.

they kiss one(1) time and it's somewhere post-tombstone, pre-empty deal where things are Particularly Bad for all of them, and him and Dean are like. somewhere out in the fields. Dean's kind of drunk but he doesn't worry because Cas can always drive them back. and they're just sort of sitting there watching the sun set or sth. and Dean, seemingly randomly kisses him. it's kind of intense and crazy and Cas kisses him back but that's pretty much it. they don't talk about it that day, and they don't talk about it the days after that and the next time they sneak out, it's all back to normal.

But when Cas seeks out Dean's space, Dean doesn't stop him. Like he'll scoot across the front bench and just mold himself into Dean's side and Dean will drape an arm over his shoulder and they pretend like that's Normal and Doesn't Mean Anything.

Once, when they're in Dean's bed and Dean is holding Cas, he asks him, "don't you ever want more?" and Cas wants to say that he wants everything. he wants every atom that makes up Dean. but he also doesn't want to shatter whatever this fragile thing is. He's content with this too. he also knows that dean's gratitude is twisted and he will fold himself into roles he doesn't want for others. but the thing is, he doesn't fully understand what Dean is asking him. what he's telling him. so all he says is "You're my best friend." that's just as much of a confession. but they're speaking different languages and they still haven't learnt how to translate. dean just sighs, presses a barely there kiss to the back of Cas' neck and goes. "thanks, cas. you're my best friend, too." and that's that.

the deal - jack- Michael, all of it is a blur. all of it happens together. they stop the joyrides after that, finding excuses whenever they do have the time to do something else. movie nights are still sacred, and sometimes dean will let cas in his room when the nightmares are worse, but it's not the same..they're both holding things back — dean, the future he knows he wants now without a doubt but feels like he can't have and cas, the deal that'll kill him because he thinks Dean might want the same things. it's the most fucked up little tragedy.

after the empty takes cas and chuck is gone and they get him back, dean's like. what the fuck. and cas is like it's okay you didn't have to say it back i didn't expect you to and dean is like *I* asked you..before everything. i ASKED you. and cas is like but i don't want you to do it just for me and dean is like WTF DO YOU MEAN JUST FOR YOU i was there the whole time!! i kissed you!! and cas is like YOU WERE UPSET and dean's like we were literally dating!!! you just had to say something!!! and cas is like why didn't YOU say something then and dean is like I DID ASK and they go around in circles for like an hour before they start crying and hugging and dean is like i love you I love you so much i don't know what to do with it and cas is like i didn't know. i didn't know. and then they kiss.

PS: this is also why jack 100% thinks they're together and is very confused when they make the announcement officially because he thought they just didn't kiss in front of him. because like. sometimes moms and dads don't do that! like in tv shows!!!

[icallhimjoey]

very much enjoying the slightly pathetic yearning joe content, 10/10

here, have some more of him (18+ yada yada yada) Wordcount: 3.5K

---

More Than This

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Friday. You weren’t meant to see Joe until Friday, after this gig he was going to go to near Brick Lane. He would text you and you would tell him you were home and he could come over if he really wanted to.

Those were the plans.

You'd rescheduled hanging out with James Hinge because Friday night you were meant to see Joe.

Friday.

Not Thursday ‘round dinner time out on the street in the day light.

What the fuck.

You’d walked out of work later than you were meant to and had shared a lift ride down with two of your colleagues that you actually liked - a couple, Sarah and Patrick. Met at work and decided to just… be each other’s person, got married and all. Unimaginable to you, but whatever. They were a good couple, properly chose each other, were good at communicating and still managed to work together fine. Wild, honestly.

You’d decided in that short amount of time in the lift to go for a meal together. They were planning on going for Mexican food and asked you to third-wheel along.

Sure. You had no real plans for dinner yet. Had eaten Joe’s stupid pasta the night before. You could accept Mexican food. Bitch and moan about your other colleagues for a little bit.

You could not accept walking past a busy smoker’s area that took up the whole pavement outside a pub and hear your name being called out.

You were in conversation, sort of complaining about your managers because bonding over bad management with your colleagues really healed the soul after a frustrating day, when you heard someone call your name.

You instantly knew who was trying to get your attention. Of course it was him. This was like, his turf, wasn't it?

For a moment, you tried to pretend you hadn’t heard him. Just kept walking, tried to listen to Patrick go on about what really annoyed him about his manager. It could’ve easily been the wind and the chatter of people in the street that made you hear things.

But then Joe placed the drink he was holding on the windowsill he was stood next to, left his cigarette in the ashtray there and took a few running steps out of the group of drinking smokers to catch up to you.

Called your name again, which made both Sarah and Patrick turn their heads.

Fuck.

“Hey,” Joe smiled widely and seemed genuinely excited to see you. Arms opened for a hug, but you didn’t really respond to them, so he ended up just awkwardly touching both your arms in greeting.

“Hi,” you smiled tightly with just the bottom half of your face.

What the fuck was Joe doing?

You would’ve accepted a quick wave, or even a finger prod in the side as you walked past him. A text, even! Just a quick, hey, I saw you, haha. But a chat? With Sarah and Patrick there? Joe made all of you stop walking and now seemed to want to actually talk.

No.

“How are you?” Joe seemed elated. Grinned all widely. All interested. Joe had never asked you how you were before.

“Did you like the pasta?”

“Oh, um... yea, it was fine, I guess,” the hesitation was thick in your voice, everyone could hear it. Your body language probably made people think you had no idea who this guy who’d just started talking to you even was.

You were also lying. The pasta had been an orgasmic life-changing sort of thing. The heating it up in an actual pan with a bit of olive oil was a real game changer. The microwave could fuck right off.

If anything, you were angry at Joe for giving you such a small little portion of it.

“Good! You going for drinks?”

“Um, no, we’re going to get something to eat, actually,” you pointed a thumb over your shoulder, wanted to turn around to keep walking, to signal that you were in a rush.

“Mexican.”

You prayed to whatever God was listening to your mental screams that Sarah or Patrick wouldn’t invite Joe to join.

Problem was that you weren’t in a rush, no matter how much you wanted to make it seem like you were. By now Sarah and Patrick had stepped close enough to make a little circle all together.

This was so weird.

Very awkward.

“Um, yea... this is Joe,” you felt you had no other choice at this point, kind of had to introduce him to your colleagues. You said it all slow, sounded insanely unsure of what you were doing as you pointed at Joe with a small finger, as casual as you could manage it. Joe was all big smiles, very polite, held out his hand to shake both Sarah’s and Patrick’s.

“Sarah, Patrick. Colleagues.” You nodded, lips pushed together in a tight line as you nodded. You raised your eyebrows and inhaled a deep breath. The uneasiness of it all was practically dripping off of you.

Sarah looked at you with a playful sort of confused smile, like she’d just found out the largest secret ever and was about to make fun of you.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone...”

You looked Joe straight in the eye when you answered Sarah, “I’m not.”

“We’re... friends? We’re friends.” Joe stared straight back at you as he clarified. The way he said it made it so fucking obvious what was going on, it made you narrow your eyes at him.

If he was going to say one more word...

A moment followed where Sarah and Patrick looked from you to Joe and back again as you just stared at each other, almost challengingly so.

Joe reached out an arm. Awkwardly touched you on your bicep where you looked at it.

“All right, have fun, enjoy your dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He smiled, gave your colleagues a friendly nod and a polite smile before turning around and walking back to where he left his beer on the windowsill.

You said nothing. Just stared at him with a slight frown, mouth open in a confused sort of half smile. What the fuck was that?

Stupid.

Stupid it was that was.

Sarah loudly cleared her throat, and Patrick turned to guide you both back into walking towards the restaurant you were going to.

“You’re seeing him tomorrow?” Sarah asked.

“Um, yea, I might do,”

Please stop talking about this.

“Sounds like you’re seeing someone,” Patrick teased, and out of sight and earshot of Joe, you smiled more confidently at him.

“Trust me: I’m not.”

What followed was a dinner where you truly third-wheeled and you regretted saying yes to going with them. All they seemed interested in was your romantic life, wanted to know more about the guy that had just ran up to them, and why did Sarah recognise him? Did he also work in the office building? Why were you so fucking tense, he only asked you how you were doing, didn't he?

“He seemed very nice,”

“What about, I don’t know, changing your ways? Actually giving someone a shot,” Patrick offered.

“Like I gave you one,”

“Like Sarah gave me one,”

You sighed as your colleagues reached across the table to hold hands for a second. Gross. Made you grumble a bit as you dropped your shoulders and closed your eyes in frustration.

“Listen,” you started.

“Uh oh,” Sarah could barely withhold her laughter.

“I know I’m supposed to want to be in a relationship, to find happiness with someone, but, I'm plenty happy right now. If anything, I’ll just end up sad and alone and heartbroken with a bunch of his old T-shirts that honestly have no business being nearly the same size – they’re not even oversized on me, it looks so dumb when I wear one of his...” you stopped talking, cleared your throat. “Never mind. Relationships suck, they never work out.”

You saw how Sarah and Patrick made eye-contact.

“Not yours, though,” you quickly added. “Your relationship is great. You two are made for each other, it’s like, it’s the Disney type of magical stuff with you two, sort of sickeningly so,” you were definitely overdoing it. You tried to save it with, “I think you should make a sex-tape, really solidify the divorce never happening,”

Sarah released a loud laugh.

“Keep that for blackmail.”

 “Would you–” Patrick tried.

“No,” Sarah immediately shot him down.

“You did theater in school right? I think you’d be good. I’d watch it.” you joked, got them laughing and swiped the whole topic off the table.

The rest of the evening had been filled with conversation about work. Just a lot of gossip and shit-talking, which was nice. Better than the focus being on that guy that you’d ran into.

That guy texted you the next night. It was past midnight, so technically Saturday, and you’d been trying so hard to stay awake. When Joe finally texted you, you felt like it was too late.

“omw rn nearly there”

“im asleep”

“thats ok ill be quiet”

Fucker made you smile.

“wont even know im there”

And then about ten minutes later, your doorbell rang.

You buzzed Joe into the building and sat on the edge of your bed for a second. You were already in pajamas, soft shorts and a matching short sleeved shirt, and stared at your wardrobe. Debated putting something else on for a second. Looked at yourself in the mirrored door and pulled at your hair. Maybe give that a brush through?

You ended up doing neither.

It was only Joe, and he was probably tipsy, if not a little drunk.

When you opened your front door, Joe was already there, and before you could even say hi, or throw him a bitchy comment about the time, Joe grabbed his chest and feigned a full heart attack. Groans and all.

You gave a deadpan stare from your doormat.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, bent over now, resting the other hand on one of his knees as he looked up at you still clutching his heart. “Do you just get prettier every time I see you?”

So, definitely drunk.

When you didn’t really react to the theatrics, Joe suddenly straightened up and dropped his shoulders.

“Yea? You done?” you couldn't help the little giggle that escaped you.

“One day,” Joe stepped closer, grabbed you around the waist, “You’re going to accept a compliment for me, and you’ll swoon so hard,”

“Mhmm, I’ll swoon, will I?” you looked up at him and let him push you back enough to step inside.

“Mhmm,” Joe leant in, close enough to kiss now. “So hard.”

He was.

So hard.

Pressed it up against your lower stomach to let you feel it.

You didn’t even make it to the bed.

Joe kissed you, and then one of his arms worked together with one of yours to close the door behind him. There was a teeny tiny attempt from you to move towards the bedroom, but it was futile, because Joe turned you around and pushed you up against the front door instead.

Joe’s kisses were sloppy, sloppier than they usually were, and... you kind of just went with it. Were all sloppy too. You were tired anyway, and it was sort of nice to not put any real effort in. Just get tongue wherever.

Felt nice.

You didn’t bother using your hands to press against Joe over his jeans – they were already straining. Instead, it became a quick fumble to get him out of them, and whilst you yanked at that stupid belt once more, Joe pulled at the strings that held your shorts up.

“Never,” you spoke into a kiss, making you break from each other a second to look down, to see what you were doing and to speed up the getting your bottom halves undressed. “Call me your friend in public every again,” you finished, just before Joe got his hands under your thighs and hoisted you up, back firmly pressed against the door still.

“Okay,” Joe agreed easily. Would agree to anything you’d ask of him now, really.

“And don’t fucking shout– ah,” there he was, “Never shhh...,” it was difficult to speak suddenly, gravity forcing you to feel all of Joe without mercy.

Joe didn't move a second, and maybe it was so you could have a moment to finish the fucking sentence. It was more likely it was because of other reasons, but you used the moment of two bodies held still and in place to gather your thoughts enough to get coherent words out.

“Never shout my name across the street again, especially not when I’m with other people,”

“Okay,” Joe breathed the word into your mouth before attaching himself again. A quick kiss, because there was focus needed for what was going on down below and Joe had to both hold you up and start a nice pace of powerfully thrusting his hips into yours.

Hard work when sober. Harder work when having had a few.

“And don’t...”

You never finished what else Joe couldn’t do.

With your arms slung around Joe’s neck, and his strong forearms hooked under your legs, you were pounded against your door, and you were sure the whole fucking floor could hear you going at it.

Didn’t matter.

Your whole floor saw you invite different men into your flat a lot, and they very kindly always pretended they didn’t see. If you were to run into a neighbour tomorrow, you were sure they would also pretend they'd miraculously gone deaf after midnight and hadn't heard a thing.

You mewled as Joe’s lips found your neck, and instead of throwing your head back to give him more skin to mouth at, you were smart enough not to bang it into the door behind you. Instead, you let it fall forward where it rested against Joe’s shoulder, and where before you tried to somehow be lighter, work with Joe as he held you up, your whole body relaxed for a second. Just, went lax. Made Joe instantly push out a huff of air as he had to work even harder at holding you up.

“It’s always the neck,” Joe spoke softly around a breathy laugh as his hips stilled for a second. Went a lot slower for a moment.

“No it’s not,” you were disagreeing just to disagree.

“Yea it is,” Joe was quick to argue, “Right here,” and you felt your whole body tense up in preparation before Joe’s lips kissed you right where you fucking wanted him to. Made you moan loudly and made Joe kiss you harder.

Pace picked back up.

Inhales became short and sharp.

Altogether it lasted seven, maybe eight minutes for Joe to start whispering, “Careful, careful, careful,” which signaled he was close. Like that was your fault.

“No, keep going,”

You wanted Joe to come.

Kind of wanted to feel the shudders and spasms of the sweaty man that was still holding you up with both arms and, wait.

Wait.

No.

No, no, no!

Fuck!

The second you told Joe to keep going, you realized you’d forgone protection. Hadn’t even thought of it fucking once up until then. Condoms resided in the bedroom – of course you wouldn’t have thought to grab one in the fucking entryway of your flat.

Idiots. You were fucking idiots.

And Joe’d been drinking, was sort of drunk.

And you were exhausted, sort of drunk on lack of sleep.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, stop,” you pushed Joe with two flat hands against his chest and forced your legs down. “We didn’t... shit,” you felt panic rolling in as you felt Joe slip out – not because you weren’t on birth control. Unwanted pregnancy wasn’t the issue here.

Listen.

You weren’t stupid.

You were sleeping with several guys. Or, at least, there were like four other men in your phone who you’d totally let in if they texted you to see you were up still, you know?

Slut era. Feminism and shit. Whatever else terms made you feel fine and proud of how you decided to live your life.

Joe probably had his own roster too.

To keep things fun and flirty and all right down there, condoms weren’t a joke to you. You didn’t buy them just to have them close and then not use them. They weren’t there just for the pretence of feeling safe. It wasn't like when you bought office supplies and felt productive just from doing that, didn't even have to use any of it for you to feel all organised.

No.

The condoms were meant to do actual protecting. To actually be used.

Your body was about to move forward, to step around Joe towards the bedroom to sort of try to fix what needed fixing, get a condom quickly, but logically you were both aware it was already too late.

So instead, Joe undid your first little step away from him and pushed you right back against the door.

“No, we–”

Then he dropped to his knees.

“Oh... oh, okay,”

Slung one of your legs over his shoulder.

“Yea, that works, fuck,”

Made you come on his tongue in literal seconds. The fact that you heard him wank as he did really helped, which was surprising. New.

You’d also never had to clean sperm off of the bottom of your front door before, but here you were, on your knees. You know, first time for everything and all that.

“I don’t want to be like, maybe get tested, but...”

You fucking hated this conversation, but felt you needed to be a big girl about it as Joe had a quick clean up of whatever needed a wipe in your bathroom whilst you had a quick clean up of the front door.

“Maybe get tested?” his voice echoed slightly, and you were glad Joe seemed normal about it.

“Yea, I don’t think I’ve got, I don’t think there’s anything... but you know, if there was, I wouldn’t... I don’t want you–”

“Yea, no worries,”

Cool.

Okay.

Great.

Seeing Joe in public the day before had been more awkward than this chat just now.

Nice.

“Sorry for the mess,” Joe’s voice suddenly sounded closer, and you turned to look over your shoulder.

Stupid smirk.

“Your come’s very sticky.”

It was.

“All right. Weird compliment.”

Nose scrunch.

“Wasn’t a compliment.” You groaned as you got up, tired body in serious need of some rest now.

You got a head tilt and a smile from Joe as he got closer and grabbed your face with both his hands.

“I really do apologise,” he said, getting all close and looking you in the eye like a real weirdo.

“Eh, nothing a little Mr Clean won’t fix,”

You took a mental note to buy some tomorrow.

“About forgetting to use protection,”

“Oh,”

Joe leant in for a kiss. An impossibly soft one.

“But,” Joe spoke very softly. Kissed you again. Had you melt a bit, which was dangerous. Risky behaviour, all of this.

“Can I just say,” one of is thumbs rubbed at your cheekbone, at the skin under your eye as you blinked them open. “It was... very good.”

Joe had a look in his eyes that was... it was too much. Scared you a little.

“I think,” you inhaled sharply, then patted Joe on his cheek. Three taps, just forceful enough for him to squeeze an eye shut. “I think you’ve just drank a bit too much.”

Spell broken.

Joe huffed an annoyed breath that made you laugh as you let go of each other. He was right though - it had been very good. Was a nice change of scenery and change of pace for the two of you. You weren’t going to mention that though, obviously.

“Bye Joe,” you gave Joe a tired smile as you opened the door for him and gestured for him to leave with the other arm.

Joe nodded at you, eyes narrowed and tongue in his cheek.

“One day I’ll figure it out,” Joe said, stepping over the threshold. “Figure you out.”

“All right, good luck with that,” you shrugged with one shoulder and before Joe could even come up with a comeback, you said “M’kay, bye!” and shut the door.

You could hear Joe softly chuckle to himself before you heard him say, “I’ll text!” through the door, and then his footsteps disappeared down the hall.

You had a small little moment where you couldn’t help smiling all widely. All sort of... warm in the chest. You looked down and saw Joe’s evidence still there stained on your door.

Gross. But also, you weren’t going to lie... you felt a little proud. Had made that happen just by... just by standing there. Just by letting him get his mouth on you. Nice.

But then reality set in.

Shit.

You stupid, stupid bitch.

How high were the chances of contracting an STI from under ten minutes of stood-up sex, did you think?

---

The Taglisted

@05secondsofsexgods, @a-time-for-wolvess, @adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddie-joe-munson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @luvrsbian, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @ohmeg, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @yelyahcardella

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[raspberryslushie]

When You're Scared

Ft. Xiao, Wanderer, and Kazuha x gn! reader (Separate)

Warnings: crying 😔, cringe, freaking tf out. I didn't pre-plan this on a doc either, so it's kinda weird and messy to read idk. I kinda also messed up on pacing but it came out in a whim so WTV HAHA

Wanderer is referred to by his old alias, Scaramouche, since wanderer is more comfortably said as "the wanderer," but thats kinda wacky so i just got lazy and used scaramouche instead LMAO

Prompt: How would they comfort you in your times of need?

Xiao

He probably came in out of nowhere and scared you more than whatever else u were worried about before

Teleports in the second he hears ur sniffling tho 

questions u in all caps, bold, and italics irl

The second he realizes that interrogating you probably wasn't gonna help, he sits the both of you down and stares. for like half an hour.

Xiao doesn't know how to react when you suddenly cling onto his shirt and cry into his shoulder.

But it doesn't matter how long it takes for him to calm you down, because even if he's inexperienced, he'd do anything to make u happy again

Hands shaking and clenching into fists so tight to the point where your nails were digging deeply into your skin to the point of numbing, you felt a scream begging to tear itself out of your throat. But when those sobs of terror found themselves out, they sounded of something desperate, and you weren't the only one who heard.

"What's wrong?" A rough hand pulled against your arm and made you face the person in question, who was unsurprisingly stoic, weapon already out to fight off whatever might've been troubling you. Yet when you look into his eyes, they're frantic and scouring your form for even the tiniest of cuts. After all, Xiao promised the world that under his watch, none would do you harm. And as an adeptus, it was his duty to protect mortals who couldn't defend themselves.

But Xiao didn’t realize what was bothering you at first, because in his eyes, there was little to be afraid of when nothing else was in the room, yet the gods had sent down demons that even he couldn't conquer: your own mind. Even so, with you by his side he learned how to comfort someone without a spear in the moment that your body leaned against his, warm arms hugging around his torso tightly. What comes first from him is an awkward gasp that sounded like something between a yelp and a hiccup, but then you feel a series of gentle pats on your back, and soon the yaksha finds himself softening into your hug. It's comforting because maybe Xiao doesn't exactly mind the prospect of loving you like this after all.

Wanderer

probably isn't as sensitive to these types of things as Xiao or Kazuha might be

wonders who might be bothering you once he finally notices the tears rolling down your cheeks.

threatens u to tell him

pretends like he doesnt care

secret hugs at night or in private, because he's really just shy 

"Who hurt you?" Scaramouche stared you dead in the eyes, refusing to back down.

"No one! Archons, would you just leave me alone!" You hardly ever talked back to him so aggressively, and it’s at that moment when he finally realizes that you were scared, because once you brought up the idea of leaving him, he knew he felt the same as you did right then.

But Scaramouche knew no other way of hushing you up than to bring you close and smother you in his embrace because with how tightly his arms were wrapped around you, it might've been lethal. Once he finally does let go, it takes you a few moments to catch your breath. The second you look at him though, his expression has you in a chokehold. The boy wept for you.

He wasn't someone who felt too strongly about anything, no, and would rather end his own existence than openly admit his feelings, but how could he bear your tears? Abandonment left its marks on him enough times to dread the day you would too, leave him, and even if you hated Scaramouche for how he seemed to not care for any human decency, there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep your smile.

That night it took everything in you to try and act as if you were deep in slumber once Scaramouche made his way to your room. You felt him sit atop the bed before dragging the sheets across his form and pressing your back flush against his chest. Slender arms were covering your body protectively, and the entire night was spent by him mumbling quiet “I love you”’s until he fell asleep, face red hot and snuggled in your shoulder.

Kazuha

He knows fear as an emotion well, and knows you as a person just as well, too.

100% sure of what’s wrong and what you need bc he pays more attention to you than anything else.

If you’re in public and don’t want to be seen, he’d take his arm with the long sleeve and cover you with that and his body while you walk home.

Picks up take-out or makes you his own dishes once you get him.

Hugs and kisses irl please make out with me /hj

“Are you alright, love?” Kazuha puts an arm around your shoulder before looking down at you.

“Y-yeah, fine Kazuha.” Lies. And Kazuha knew that well enough to end your excursion early to head home. The city streets were crowded by festival times, and he was willing to leave early for your sake.

“No, you’re not,” He covered your face with his sleeve and guided the two of you away from prying eyes. “Let’s get back, the evening air is beginning to mellow out.” The rest of the walk home is wordless, aside from a few muffled sniffs and cries, but Kazuha made the panic drown out in the soothing winds that whipped around your hair.

By the time you got home, your heart had already found itself back at normal pace, and Kazuha laid you down on a blanketed mat. But you got up anyway to follow him while he cooked, for the sake of “company”. (He knew that you really just wanted to stay near him). 

The rest of the night you ate together in private, and as much as you tried to apologize for breaking down in the middle of your outing, he didn't listen into any of it, relentlessly pecking your cheek with kisses in his own way of telling you that it was all alright.

That night Kazuha actually had more trouble sleeping than you, for he was out past midnight scribbling down all the words he found himself fond of in the wilderness. One by one, the lines and rhymes flowed together, until you wake up the next morning to the smell of fried fish and a piece of paper on the nightstand that told you all the words he couldn’t last night.

[venus616]

bro i fkn came at the thought of your blurb prompt fuck right off HAHA

the blurb prompt in question >:-)

cake; {p.p.}

Pairing: peter parker x f!reader (gif is tasm but you can interpret this as any peter parker)

Summary:  it's not even my birthday, but he wanna lick the icing off (lyrics by rihanna, birthday cake)

“Happy birthday Peter,” She speaks with her hands planted on her knees.  He gets on the bed, ready to pounce on her to her delight. “I think this will be my favorite gift yet,” He mutters while she leans back, elbows falling on his pillows.

Warnings: established relationship, smut, food mention, vaginal fingering, oral sex, light dom/sub dynamics if you squint, spanking, allusion to self esteem + body image insecurity, language, 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 3.1k (2.5k is smut... (i got carried away) (anyway))

A/N: decided to go with the birthday theme bc its leo season aka peter parker + spider-man season also happy birthday to mcu peter :') so feel free to imagine this as tom holland's peter cause it's canonically his day shdnsjd

It was Peter’s birthday and they were barely getting home from his celebration. It was an intimate gathering of his closest friends and his girlfriend at one of his favorite restaurants that wasn’t strictly Chinese takeout. 

To her satisfaction, this was after a few weeks of complaints from Peter of her going all for his birthday because he claimed it was “no big deal”. A few days beforehand, she eventually wore him down to allow her to do this one nice thing for him, mainly because he was able to piece two and two together and realized his objections fell on deaf ears.

He was still embarrassed from the singing from everyone in close proximity, followed by the cake play she teased him with when everyone was too distracted to tease them both about their PDA. 

Peter closes the door behind her, while she’s still holding onto his hand. All she wanted was to give him his final present for the night to remind him how grateful she was for his presence in her life. 

“Peter, c’mere,” She lightly whines while he locks the door of his apartment. 

“What is it baby?” He responds, looking down at her before she pretends to wipe away leftover frosting from his cheek. 

“You got a little something here,” She lies, making him look at her. He’s so tired from all the attention tonight, his face softens up from just staring at her. 

“Do I?” He smiles gently. She smiles back before trailing her fingers to his lips. 

“Yeah,” She whispers under her breath before bringing her other hand to the nape of his neck. She pulls him in to kiss her, inhaling the scent of his cologne. It was intoxicating being with him, and she swore it was something she’d never get used to. 

Peter smiles against her cheeks when you pull away to breathe, remembering her plans for the rest of the night. “Are you ready for your last present, birthday boy?” She smirks, feeling his hands grope her ass as he refuses to let her go. 

“You gave me like three this morning and threw me a birthday dinner,” He mumbles in her skin as he hangs his head in the crook of her neck with an iron grip on her waist. 

“Hence why I said “last”.” She reminds him. She hesitantly grabs Peter’s hands to detach himself from her, telling him to wait in his living room. 

She goes into the bag she brought earlier for tonight to get ready, looking at the lacy lingerie set in front of her. She had bought fishnet stockings that went up right below her ass, with a garter belt wrapping around her waist. There was a floral pattern tracing the lower half of the belt, complimenting the soft flesh of her stomach sitting underneath it. 

The underwear and bra were a matching set, barely leaving anything to imagination which she knew Peter would be delighted by. They both had the same flowers on her garter, but with the sheer fabric that graced her backside leaving her ass on display. 

She clasps the stockings to your garter and stares at herself in the mirror, making sure there wasn’t a hair out of place and that her makeup was still intact. She reapplies her lipstick from earlier and studies herself, feeling shy as she’s about to call him back in. 

Turning around to make sure her ass is complemented by the material, she spins back to the front. She’s still studying her nipples through the material, assessing the flowers that decorated the valley of her chest. 

She crawls onto his made bed, smiling to herself as she knows that won’t be the case for long. She kneels on this mattress before the door, fidgeting with her hands in her lap before she calls Peter. 

“Come in,” She yells out, focused on the way her thighs spilled out of her stockings due to the position she sat in. She tried not to pay it no mind, knowing that Peter didn’t care how her body looked, but it was hard not to feel particularly focused on every part of herself before they became intimate. She hears his steps pick up behind the door and feels her heart picking up at the doorknob turning. 

He comes in, staring at her with his lips being chewed between his lips. He silently huffed in surprise and a blush crept up his cheeks. She still avoids holding his gaze for too long, hoping he’d find the gesture sexy enough. She continues to be fidgety with the thin material of her set, looking at him with her eyes glassy and doe eyed. 

Peter strolls along his bed, loosening the buttons of his shirt. He sticks his tongue out licking his bottom lip, still not saying a thing. She looks up to see his eyes darken when his lips curl into a smile and feels her confidence rushing back, knowing he probably wanted nothing more than to take her right there. She sits up straighter, her chest on full display before she breaks the silence. 

“Happy birthday Peter,” She speaks with her hands planted on her knees. 

He gets on the bed, ready to pounce on her to her delight. “I think this will be my favorite gift yet,” He mutters while she leans back, elbows falling on his pillows. Peter attacks her with kisses, trailing down to her chest as he cups her breasts through the bralette.

“Yeah?” She asks, struggling to hide the excitement in her voice as he showers her in affection. She gasps out as she feels the wetness of his mouth devouring her nipple through the bra, feeling his tongue roll along her breast. Peter removes his mouth from her nipple and nods in between her tits and she can feel his smile when he does before she even looks down to see his eyes staring her down. 

She averts eye contact, closing her eyes and humming while she wraps her fingers into his hair, tugging at it lightly. 

“Don’t do that,” He quietly demands, much to her confusion. 

“What?” She pouts, furrowing her eyebrows at the absence of his body on hers. She opens her eyes and sees him shaking his head while he readjusts off to the side of the bed to take off his shirt. On a side note, she doesn’t think she’d ever get tired of seeing Peter shirtless, if she had it her way his physique would be in a museum. 

Peter’s answer takes her out of her daydream. “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.” He insists, to which she rolls her eyes to before staring at him. She clenches her thighs closer together at the sight of his body, muscles defined even in the low lighting of the room and his hair tousled (courtesy of her). 

She nods, biting the inside of her cheek, still captivated by the sight of him. Oppositely, Peter focused on the way her heart beat was picking up as he unbuckled his pants. While he pulls his pants down, he watches the way she crosses her foot behind her leg, shifting her weight on one arm to inch closer to the side of the bed he’s standing by. 

“That’s my girl,” He says smugly, making her thighs clench together again. She positions herself on all fours now, fingertips teasing the waistband of Peter’s boxers while you palm her erection through the fabric. She smirks as she feels his cock twitching at her touch, gripping tighter around him as she feels his veins through the material. He covers her hands mid stroke and gently gestures to her to stop, to her frustration. He half-smiles. 

“I think you’ve done enough today,” He playfully scolds, before kneeling on the bed, making her back away. She’s back to her original position on her knees, still sitting up to meet Peter on eye level. She shakes her head, laying back down in the pillows in defeat, knowing what he wanted to do. She knocks her knees together while flat on her back and feet planted in the bed. Peter maneuvers himself to separate her legs with himself, aiming his face to attack her heat. 

Then, Peter thinks better of it. “I wanna try something,” He declares. She starts to speak but he picks her up by the waist, replacing her previous position with himself. She finds herself with her legs on either side of his waist before she can think better of it. He’s now beneath her, smirking at her confusion before she asks. “What is it?”

“Sit on my face,” Peter says nonchalantly, almost shrugging as he plays with the straps connecting her stockings to the garter. She lets go of a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in and barely sets her weight on top of him, very hesitant about his request. Peter is trying to read her face and pouts slightly when he senses her discomfort. 

“What if I hurt you?” She seriously asks. Peter laughs a little too hard, causing her to fall forward to hide her face in his neck.

“Stop it, ‘m serious,” She mumbles against his skin when she feels his chest heaving slow down. Peter runs his hands along her spine, one eventually resting on her ass cheek to cup and squeeze it. She plants her hands on his pecs before raising herself from her previous position to face him again. She sees him grinning, still amused by her previous question to which she rolls her eyes at. 

“I know you are,” Peter lightly smacks her ass causing her to moan, mindlessly grinding on his lower abs. 

“But think about it as my final birthday gift, yeah?” Peter’s face lights up at the suggestion as she can feel him practically clawing at her backside, excited to readjust himself to place his mouth to her wet cunt once she says yes. 

“You won’t hurt me,” He adds seriously. She knew realistically she wouldn’t (or couldn’t), but there was a bit of self consciousness making her too afraid to put her entire weight on his face. The same fear that she had when she originally started sleeping with him and hated being on top for the same reason, until he displayed his insane strength and started slamming her own hips onto his. 

“Okay, yes.” She nods and exasperates jokingly before Peter quickly worms his way down his bed to position himself right underneath her slit. 

Her thighs were on either side of Peter’s head, he acknowledges this by peppering them in kisses, making her drip in anticipation. He wraps the back of her knees with his own arms, hands firmly grasping her hips before letting her put her weight onto him. 

“My pretty girl,” He murmurs underneath her, lips lightly grazing the fabric that separated her wetness from him. “Gorgeous body too,” He adds before giving her a much stronger smack on her ass, making her yelp out and lean forward in pleasure. 

Peter moves her panties to the side, finally lowering her body onto his mouth and forces her to rest her weight on his face. He savors her, licking long stripes on her slit making her squirm on top of him from under the amount of pressure he put on her sensitivity. She felt like her thighs were going to crush his head and attempted to not squeeze any further but he noticed this, shaking his head before he interrupted to speak. 

“What did I tell you?” He says, a deeper, domineering voice sending sharp vibrations through her body. 

She whimpers as an answer. Peter doesn’t like this. He slaps her ass again making her yell once again, unconsciously clenching Peter’s head around her thighs and he forces her to hold this position. She feels his mouth go to work on her as she mindlessly grinded against his tongue. 

She ruts onto his mouth from the strength Peter was displaying by not only holding her up, but squeezing her skin so hard she’d be sure to feel the bruises the next morning. Peter’s enjoyment could be heard through the room by the way he slurped down her wetness. He readjusts one of his hands to the front to play with her clit during, making her legs shake on top of him. 

She eventually stops fighting it and squeezes around Peter, only encouraging him further by as he applies pressure onto her cunt with his tongue and her clit with his thumb, She leans down grabbing his hair for some, any leverage as the sensation felt like she was about to see stars. She begins panting, begging Peter to relax. 

“Peter please slow down,” She cries, wanting to lift off but Peter refuses, keeping her on at the same amount of pressure. He only holds her tighter, shaking his head in between her thighs while his tongue thrusted further in her folds. He only let her lift off briefly, before bringing her back down to suck on her clit, slowly at her request. 

This bastard, she thought, but all that came out was a moan that could barely be heard. Her soft stomach heaving up and down from the contractions of her orgasm building up. 

She rocked her hips as slowly as she could in his hold, still not wanting to hurt him, but it became harder with the way his tongue skillfully rolls along her nub. He playfully grazes it along his teeth making her cry out louder. 

“Fuck,” is only one of the obscenities that was strewn along with his name. She removes her hands from his head, and moves to the headboard in front of them, and starts to actively grind against his mouth knowing what he wanted.  

“Faster,” She mutters, making the bed creak beneath her at the pace she was moving. 

Peter briefly pauses on her clit, fully maneuvering the hold he had her under to replace his mouth with his thumb and looks at her from below, grinning with a mouth and chin covered in her wetness. She still whimpers with his touch, feeling like she was going to cum soon off of the rubbing alone. 

“I still gotta prep you baby,” Peter says, making her dizzy. He uses his other hand for the prepping in question and slowly inserts one one of his long, calloused fingers inside of her. Without thinking, she reached down with one hand to spread her lips wider for his insertion, making him chuckle at her desperation. 

“My needy girl, want me to fill you up that bad?” Peter teases, shining his perfect smile at her. So perfect it only makes her more frantic. He quickens the thrust of his own finger, watching her carefully which makes her shy, but she knows he was gonna spank her if she avoided his eye contact. 

On second thought?

She looks back up, bracing herself for the loud smack that would send tingles right to her cunt. He bites his lower lip before fully removing his one finger and a loud blow is sent to her cheek. She clenches around nothing, leaning even further down with her forehead on the headboard, a loud curse being shouted in his bedroom. 

“Look at me,” Peter says in a much gentler tone than earlier, squeezing her burning flesh before movin one of his hands back to her desperate, dripping cunt. Her back straightens up, meeting his eyes when she looks down and nods, tears brimming her eyelashes from how good it feels, and how badly she wanted him to continue. 

“You want me to stop?” Peter seriously asks. She shakes her head profusely, before verbalizing. 

“I want you to continue Peter.” Her breath was ragged, reaching for his free hand, lacing his fingers with hers before kissing the front of his. He gives her a few more seconds to breathe which she takes to show how eager she was to continue. She sits back up, giving him space to fully readjust inserting his fingers in her, this time two. 

Bouncing up and down on them, she focuses on returning Peter’s intense gaze, finding it hard to compose her expressions. Peter found it hot, jaw practically on the floor while he stared up at her almost losing herself only on his fingers. He starts to curl his fingers inside of her, making her briefly throw her head back, breasts almost falling out of her lingerie. Peter was making a mental note to make that happen sooner or later. 

He soon adds a third finger which makes her hips stutter, a little too full inside of her to fully ride but Peter is determined to make her comfortable. He moves back within her thighs and places his mouth on her clit, holding her backside to make sure she was still able to feel his fingers within her. 

Soon she loosens up enough to continue grinding on his mouth and fingers, but feels herself heaving once again, an orgasm building up in her stomach which inevitable by the way Peter was repeatedly hitting all the right spots. 

“I’m gonna cum,” She gasps. She cuts Peter off by the smug look he has in his eyes and speaks again. 

“And I can’t hold it,” She moans, internally begging him to continue at the pace he was going at. He obliges, pumping in and out of her repeatedly until her orgasm is basically engulfing his fingers back in. She slows down her movements on his fingers, barely able to breathe or form a coherent thought at the moment. 

Peter removes his fingers from her cunt and raises her a few inches higher so he can worm his way back to a sitting position, back against the headboard and her in his lap. She’s already exhausted, trying to wake up from that orgasm because the night had just started and her set was still fully intact. Her head is resting on Peter’s collarbone running her hands against his chest while he holds her closely. 

“Tired?” He jokes. She can hear the smirk on his lips and wants to kick him right there. 

“Mm,” She grumbles. 

She trails down her hand to his boxers, slipping beneath the waistband and her fingers immediately feel the wetness of his precum leaking all over his erection. She playfully gasps in shock before tipping her head back to whisper in his ear. 

“Are you wet?” Her voice sounds as if it’s a scandal, trying to mimic the same teasing tone Peter loves to pull on her. His laugh fills the room, making all the energy from earlier come back to her body. He brings his hand up to her face, staring at her with love. 

“Ready for round two?” He questions, holding her chin in between his fingers to catch her gaze. Her eyes flicker in between his eyes and lips in a half lidded stare of lust. 

“Nuh uh, lay back down and get ready for a taste of your own medicine.” She grins, already getting a strained moan from Peter’s lips as she starts to tug at his cock.

[twice-inamillion]

A Special Date

Fluff and Smut

Chapter 195

1.9 K words

(Nayeon and OC go on a small date that might lead to an interesting night.)

Nayeon and you are on another date by the Han River. It has been hard to spend some time alone since you have been busy with work and purchasing the plot of land to build the house. 

Nayeon speeds down the bike trail as you try to catch up to her; every time you reach her, she would speed up and laugh, "Haha, come on, slow poke!"

"You'll regret it when I catch up to you!"

"All talk but no action!"

You can see her true self, a goofball, in these moments. You speed up and try to match her speed but in a way in which you keep a good balance so you don't get shaky footage on your GoPro. 

After you finally catch up to her, she stops, "I'm tired; let's rest." She sits on the grass, taking off her backpack and grabbing a bottle of water. "Hmm, wants some?" as she offers you a sip of her drink. 

"Hey, I said some, but you drank half the bottle!" 

"I got tired trying to catch up to you."

"Lies, I know you were pretending," pouting her bunny-like cheeks.

"You look cute with your cheeks," which makes her embarrassed. She tries to hide her face, pretending she doesn't like being called for her cuteness. 

You sit beside her and grab her hand as you watch the sunset over the Han River. "So beautiful."

"Yeah, the sunset is really pretty."

"Oh, that too." 

She realizes what you meant it and punches your shoulder, almost causing you to fall over. "Hey! Watch it."

"You're something else, but I like that about you." 

"What? I couldn't hear you. Sorry, you just said something under your breath." 

"I said, I love you, okay!"

"I love you too, Nayeon." 

"Really?"

"Yes, actually, you were my first crush when I arrived at the company when we were trainees."

"Really? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well… I wanted to, but I didn't want to ruin our friendship. When I arrived, you were my first friend, and I didn't want to ruin it. Also, you were friendly with all the trainees, so I just assumed you were just being friendly with me too."

"Come on; you should have said something! I was hinting that I liked you."

"No, I didn't notice any hinting, plus so of the other trainees said that you wouldn't date someone younger than you, so that made it even worse."

"Haha, we could have been together by then," says Nayeon as you see her tear up. "We could have been something…" turning her head away from you.

"Nayeon, don't. You know that dating was prohibited for trainees, especially with you; since JYP always considered you one of his favorites, it wouldn't have been possible."

"But we could have made it work" turning towards you as she begins to cry. You wrap your arms around her and hold her as she cries. "There, there, I will always be here for you, so let it all out."

Nayeon crying uncontrollably for a couple, finally settles down; she wipes her tears on the sleeve of her hoodie, "Okay, I think I'm fine."

"Do you want to keep on going or just go back?"

"Let's go back home." You grab her hand and help her stand. The both of you walk the bikes back and load them in the car. You grab her hand as you drive off the parking lot. 

It isn't even five minutes when you hear Nayeon say, "Can we turn around? Please."

"What is it? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah… It's just that my mom just messaged me. I told her I would be in the city and just asked if I could go home and check if everything is okay since she's out of town for a few days."

"To your place then?"

"Please," rubbing her hands together, apologizing for the detour.

"Don't worry about it; since we are stopping at your place, maybe you can cook me a homemade meal."

Nayeon smacks your shoulder, "yah… you should be cooking for me instead since you made me cry."

"Sorry."

"Hahaha. Kidding. Of course, I'll make you something," and you drive to Nayeon's childhood home. 

After a few minutes, you arrive at her house, "Yay, we are here. Come inside with me."

She inserts the code for the door and slowly opens the door, "I'm home!" Nayeon grabs you a set of slippers, and you both walk into the house. You see numerous pictures of her and her family. 

You walk around the living room and stop at a picture of what seems to be Nayeon as a child. "Is this you?"

She comes out of the kitchen and walks towards you. "Haha yeah, that's me."

"You look like a total brat," as you laugh at the picture.

"Hey, I wasn't that bad." 

"I mean, the picture just screams a bratty Nayeon," causing her to pout. "I wasn't a brat, hmph," as Nayeon crosses her arms. 

"Okay, okay. You were a good child. I'm sorry."

"Yeah… that's what I thought," she says with a smirk after tricking you. You then find another picture of her, "Aww, this picture of you is cute," as you hold a picture of her in her nursery school uniform.

Nayeon blushes when she hears that you called her cute. "I bet our babies would look just as cute as you, Nayeon." 

"Stop! You're going to make it go to my head." 

"But it's true. Our babies would be beautiful with your cute looks. Imagine little bunnies running around the house."

Nayeon immediately imagines the baby bunnies between you and her, which makes her turn completely red. She does not want to show you her expression and instead walks to the garden and waters the plants. This makes you smile, knowing that the idea of having babies with you makes her lose her composure.

You keep looking around the house as Nayeon finishes what her mom asked her to do, and when she comes back, she says, "Hey, is it okay if we stay longer? I have to wait for one or two packages that are supposed to arrive."

"Sure, that's fine. How about we get something for dinner?"

"Yeah! That sounds great."

"So… am I going to get a home-cooked meal from my girlfriend?"

Nayeon remembers that you constantly ask her for a home-cooked meal every time she manages to get out of it, but not today. 

"Haha, only if you help me."

"A dinner made by a couple in love does sound romantic."

She smacks you and heads for the fridge, looking at what she can make. After getting the necessary ingredients, Nayeon removes her sweater, ties her hair, and puts on an apron. 

"Wow, you look hot," as you get behind her and wrap your arms. 

"Stop… you're going to make me drop something."

"Haha, just messing with you. Let me help."

No, you said you wanted a home-cooked meal, so that's what you will get, so just sit down and relax. You sit on the couch and look through some childhood pictures of Nayeon as she preps the side dishes and prepares the main course. Once she's done, she takes off her apron and says, "Jagiya, dinner is ready." You head to the dinner table, and she finishes setting the table for the both of you. 

"Looks delicious, can't wait."

"Okay, I tried really hard, so I hope you don't hate it."

"Aww, don't worry. I can tell it already that it is going to be delicious." You pick up the spoon and try the hot soup. It's okay, a bit salty, but still good overall, and try the two meat dishes. "It's good," which immediately puts a smile on Nayeon's face. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, you could tell that you tried your best."

"I did, I wasn't sure if you would like it, but I'm glad it's good." You then grab a perilla, add a slice of meat and some kimchi, "Here, Nayeon, try some." "Ahh…" as she opens her mouth as wide as she can so the food doesn't fall off. She smiles and nods, "Let me feed you now." The both of you enjoy your dinner as you feed each over and enjoy a nice conversation. 

After finishing your dinner, you look at her childhood pictures and point out the ones you find cute, "Look, this one looks cute, a bunny dressing up like a bunny." 

"It was Halloween, and my mom thought it was cute." 

"Little did she know that you were going to look like a cute bunny."

"Haha, I get that a lot now. It's one of my signature features," as she gives you a big smile.

You turn the pages and stop at a certain one, "wow, you look hot here."

"Eww, no! I did not like my hair back then." 

"Come on, besides the hair, I think you would like cute in this." 

She gives you a side eye, "Is this another one of your fetishes?" 

"Haha. Is it obvious?"

"Well, you're practically drooling." 

"No, I'm not. It's just that I would really like to see you wearing this."

"Hmm… I don't even think it fits me anymore."

You sigh, "Dang, too bad. I would have really wanted to see you in it." 

Suddenly the doorbell rings, "Ding! Delivery!"

You place the book on the couch, head to the front door, and look through the small screen on the side of the door. You press the button, "Okay, be right there."

"Jagiya need help?" 

"No, I got it."

You open the door, and the delivery boy asks for a signature. You sign on the small tablet, "Thanks, here are the smallest ones; let me get the other packages."

"Wait, there's more?" 

You end up carrying multiple packages into the house and setting them in a corner by the living room. "Hey, your mom said one or two packages, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's not just two; its more like ten."

"Hmm… maybe she got mixed up."

"Okay, I guess. I just put them in the corner is that okay?" as you walk towards the hallway.

"Are you in the bathroom?"

"No, I went to get something in my room. Just wait, okay?"

"Okay."

Instead, you use the restroom and wait for her in the living room. You go on your phone and text Jihyo that you might be coming late. It doesn't take her long to respond and message you a wink emoji, "Hmm."

"Hey, can you help me with something? I can't seem to reach it," says Nayeon from her room. "Okay," and walk towards her bedroom, "I'm coming in, okay."

"The door is unlocked," you open the door, and your mouth immediately drops. 

"What do you think?" Nayeon spins around in her school uniform.

"Fuck, you look hot."

Neyeon smiles and bites her lip, "How about we have some fun" as she sits down, spreading her legs open and giving you a fantastic view.

"No, panties," you say to yourself and walk towards her.

"Hey, close the door!"

"No, one is going to see though."

"Still, close it," and you shut the door.

[drabbles-mc]

For the Record

Javier Peña x GN!Reader

For @pickled-pena's writing challenge!: resolutions, pickle/jar of pickles, "You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?"

Warnings: 18+, language, mentions of injuries, angst/arguments

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: This was such a fun challenge! Thank you to the mods for putting it together! It's also been a while since I've written for Javi so that was a treat too haha. Happy New Year, y'all! xo

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @boomclapxox @nessamc @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @narcolini @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa @il0vebeingdelulu (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You were standing in the kitchen, holding the refrigerator door open as you looked inside it for the fifth time since you’d gotten home less than an hour before. No new food had appeared there in that span of time but you still kept coming back to check anyway just in case. You weren’t even actually hungry, although you should’ve been with how hectic the day had been and the fact that it led you to not being able to eat anything since your coffee and half of a pastry on the way to base that morning.

If you had still been back home, you would just be enjoying No Man’s Week—that week between Christmas and New Year’s when not much of anything gets done by anyone even if they have the best intentions. But you weren’t home. So instead of staying home and ditching work completely, or sitting in an office pretending to work but really getting nothing of the sort done, you had been running around the streets of Medellín trying to catch Escobar’s men and trying not to get shot in the process. Much less relaxing.

Along with your day being the opposite of relaxing, you also weren’t successful in either of the things that you had set out to do. The information that you’d been gathering had gotten you pretty far, but not quite far enough. The member of Pablo’s team that you’d been tracking for weeks slipped through your grasp, although it wasn’t without a fight. That much was evident because of the bullet that had gone clean through your bicep, and the other that had buried itself in your tac-vest. It was not a successful day.

Now, on top of your day being unsuccessful, everything else was infinitely more difficult to do when you only had full use of one arm and hand, and of course it wasn’t your dominant one. You should’ve taught yourself to be ambidextrous.

Then, as if all of that wasn’t enough salt rubbed into your very fresh wounds, you were about to make a final decision on what was going to pass for a very sad dinner when the lock flipped on the apartment door. You heard the click and you let out a sigh purely out of reflex as you let go of the fridge door to let it fall shut. Your jaw was clenched tight as you heard the apartment door swing open and quickly slam shut. Dramatic. He was always so dramatic.

“What the fuck was that?” he said as he started to storm into the kitchen.

You turned around to face him, your face as neutral as you could manage it. “Lock the door, Javi,” you instructed, purposely ignoring the question he’d just thrown at you.

He froze for a moment, hesitating. It took a second for him to process what you’d said, realizing that you weren’t giving him the argument that he’d been gearing up for the entire drive back to your place. He obliged, albeit begrudgingly. He was shaking his head the whole time, about two seconds away from stomping his foot like a toddler in the midst of his tantrum.

“Well?” he dove right back into it once the lock was in place.

“Well, what?” you asked, tone even as you turned back around to the fridge to open the door again, this time just to have an excuse not to look at him.

“You know what.” He wasn’t yelling, too exhausted for that, but even with how low his voice was it still held plenty of anger, still sharp enough to feel like it was cutting you. You heard his footsteps behind you even as you kept your eyes glued to the inside of the refrigerator. When he spoke up again you could practically feel his breath against the back of your neck. “You never should’ve been out there alone.”

You refused to turn around and look at him. “Some things can’t wait. You of all fucking people should know that. Plus it’s not like I didn’t try to get you to go with me, but no,” you dragged out that last word to twist the knife a little more. “Only you’re allowed to do that apparently.”

He scoffed. “What’s that supposed—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your laugh cruel enough to put you on even footing in the argument. “Don’t insult either of us by finishing that question.”

There was nothing in your fridge that would even come close to constituting a meal. You’d been living on takeout for the last few weeks because of how hectic everything had been. No time to grocery shop and definitely no energy left to cook. But you didn’t want to leave your apartment now that you were home, so you were just going to suffer through by grazing on the scraps that you had. You reached for the nearest jar on the refrigerator door, grabbing it with the one hand you still had full use of.

Javi watched as you side-stepped your way out of being boxed in by him. You moved to the side and set the jar on the counter, and Javi waited a second before he moved right along with you, trapping you between him and the counter now instead of the fridge.

As much as Javi wanted to plead ignorance, he knew exactly what you were talking about. It wasn’t something you brought up often, saving it for times when you needed a good card to play. This was one of those times. He was angry about it but he’d done it to himself in a way—he knew that. He tried to come to his own defense. “That’s not the same. You know that. What I did—”

“Was fucking reckless,” you snapped, slamming the jar down on the counter, not hard enough to break it, but hard enough to make both you and Javi flinch. You tightened your grip on the lid, not even trying to open the damn thing, just trying to channel all of your anger and exhaustion into something that would cause minimal damage. “You can’t stand there and be pissy at me for what I did today when your track record is what it is. It’s not,” you scoffed, “it’s not even fucking close.”

“You got fuckin’ shot!”

You turned around to face him, stanced up like you were ready to fight despite the fact that you were bandaged up and strapped down in a sling, a last-ditch effort from the doctors to try and remind you not to move your arm if you could help it. “And you got Steve fuckin’ kidnapped!”

Javi flinched at the accusation, the truth of it stinging just as much as the rest of it. “It’s not—”

“And, for the record,” you turned back around and set back to work on opening the jar on the counter, “I tried to fucking tell you. You didn’t wanna hear it. You didn’t think that I had anything. So don’t stand there and act like I just up and out of the blue decided to go rogue. I tried to make sure someone had my back and you bailed on me.”

You didn’t touch him. You weren’t even looking at him and yet he found himself taking a step backwards like you’d shoved him with both hands. “Hey.”

“No,” you refused to turn around and look at him, dedicated to the tear that you were about to go on, “no don’t give me that. You feel shitty about it? Good. You should feel shitty. Because it didn’t have to go down like that today. You wanna come in here and yell at me and say that I was acting stupid and reckless and I just—you didn’t leave me any other choice!” You tried and failed to twist the lid on the jar, only adding to the frustration that was stacking endlessly on your shoulders. “You stand there and accuse me of all this shit, but where were you at the time? What else was so promising that you just fucking hung me out to dry?”

“If you knew I couldn’t be there then you should never have gone out on your own.”

“But you could’ve been there! You were supposed to be there!” You wanted to throw your hands up in exasperation and you couldn’t. You turned around to look at him, hating that you could feel the tears in your eyes. “You promised. You can’t just treat your promises to me like, like the bullshit excuses you give our boss. They’re not just some red tape you have to find a way around. You owe me more than that.”

He frowned, the response that he’d been building up in his head evaporating completely the more he listened to you, not just to your words but to the sadness in your voice, the dejection. He never wanted to make you feel like that. Until recently he hadn’t ever been in the position to make someone feel that way—his relationships never unfolded the way that yours had.

He still wasn’t ready to spit out an apology, though.

“I don’t think they’re red tape,” he finally said. He took a deep breath as he reached around you and took the jar off the counter.

“Javi—”

“Let me finish,” he stopped you before you got on another tirade. He easily twisted and popped the lid off the jar you’d been struggling with before setting it back down on the counter. Neither of you commented on it. “I should’ve listened back then. But you didn’t say a damn word to me today once we left here. I had no idea where you were until I heard a call on the radio saying you got fuckin’ shot.”

“Would you have even shown up?”

“How can you ask me that?”

“Because you blew me off once.”

“In a fuckin’ meeting! In a conference room! I would never—” he stopped short, getting himself together. “No one goes out alone like that.” He paused, hurt crossing over his expression for a moment. “I don’t let you go out alone like that.”

If you hadn’t been so exhausted, you would’ve had more angry things to say. More cutting comments to make. But as it stood, you just wanted the day to be over with, wanted the argument to be over with or at least paused. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to keep hashing it out after a decent night’s sleep. You were trying to figure out a way to say all of that when the sound of your stomach growling cut through the tense silence of the apartment.

You sighed, about to cobble together a sentence of some kind when Javi spoke up for you. “Eat. Get some energy to yell at me more later.”

Despite the exhaustion and the stress, you managed a smile. “Tha—”

“That all you’ve had today?” he asked.

“Not really,” you said, your tone markedly different than it had been a few moments before, “but sort of, yeah.”

“I don’t think pickles count as dinner after the day you had.”

“Well,” you reached into the jar with your good hand and carefully pulled one out, “I don’t think that you brought home dinner.” You took a bite of it. “So this is gonna have to do.”

“I can run out and grab something,” he offered, not quite an olive branch but something close.

You appreciated the offer but you still shook your head no. “It’s fine. We’re both home. Let’s just…yeah.”

He knew that he should’ve fought you on it, gone out and gotten something more passable for dinner anyway despite your protest, but he didn’t. Of all the arguments the two of you were bound to get into, he didn’t think it was worth it to make this one of them.

“We gotta get better about cooking,” he said as he stepped over, reaching in and taking a pickle out of the jar.

You let out a tired laugh. “Next year, maybe.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Thought you didn’t do resolutions?”

“I don’t. But, you know, still sounds good.” You paused for a brief moment. “Yours should be to listen to me more.” There was no real malice behind it, almost like it was a real piece of advice.

He took it as such as he leaned back against the counter beside you, studying your sling, your face, your everything. “You alright?”

It wasn’t funny, per se, but you still had to laugh at the fact that it took you both this long to get to the point in the conversation where he was asking you that. Typically that’s the first thing someone asks when they hear you got shot.

“I will be,” you told him truthfully.

You leaned, letting your head drop against his shoulder. You let out a deep sigh, one that he mirrored soon after. Part of you felt like maybe there was something else that you should be saying, but when you felt the kiss that he pressed to the side of your head, you figured that whatever was left to say could wait until later.

[dragonsdomain]

Bleeding Out in the Backyard

"Mansions are rich and have a lot of security. One day their lead officer shows them a concerning video of Danny Fenton in the back ally behind their home."

A phic phight prompt by DizzlyPuzzled

...

Pamela Manson sipped her tea before blinking at the camera again. It had been a while since she'd paid attention to these security cameras, but she's starting to think that may have been a mistake.

"Honey?" she called into the hall. "Jeremy? Can you come over here?"

"Sure, sweetie!" Jeremy swept into the room, then drew to an abrupt stop at the view on the screen. "Is that Sam's scraggly boyfriend bleeding out in the backyard?"

Pamela opened her mouth to argue that he wasn't her boyfriend if she had anything to say about it before slapping her forehead. "Oh dear, I should call an ambulance! I wouldn't want to get sued by his crazy parents."

"Why is he bleeding out in our backyard?" Jeremy muttered.

"Here, call the cops, dear," Pam said, handing her phone to Jeremy before poking her head out to the hall again and shrieking "Sam! Get down here!"

Pam's phone dinged in Jeremy's hand. He glanced down at it. "Sam says 'what?'"

"Ugh!" Pamela grabbed the phone back from him and called Sam. "Get down here, you ungrateful girl! Your wretched friend is bleeding out in the backyard!"

There was a beat of silence. Jeremy was thankfully pulling out his own phone to call 911 with. "Mom..." Sam answered, "Are you trying to April Fool's prank me? 'Cause this is a really bad way to do it. Or-- wait, Tucker? Are you pretending to be my mom?"

"I am your mother!" Pam screeched. "Get down here before I have to come up and get you!"

Jeremy was speaking with an operator on the other side of the phone, describing the situation. Good.

Sam strode into the room presently with eyeliner half-removed. She takes in the screen, and Pam watches some indeterminate firecracker of emotions smack up onto Sam's face and then right back off. "...I forgot we have security cameras."

"Ugh," Pam rolls her eyes, mentally brushing off the fact that she had also forgotten.

"Okay, so... he's probably doing a prank."

Pam's eyelid twitches. "You can't be serious, Sam. Your father has already called an ambulance."

Sam cursed under her breath. "Uh, lemme go check on him, see what's going on. I'll call you from the yard and tell you what's up."

"Make it quick," Pamela said, gritting her teeth.

Sam dashed off again. Pamela propped herself up on the desk next to the cameras. She noticed she was shaking and tried taking some deep breaths to soothe her nerves. That boy was going to regret this if it really was just a prank.

Pam nearly shrieked when her phone rang, before she managed to fumble it up to her ear and answer.

"Hey! Haha, so! Yeah, it was just a prank!" Sam said, and Pam wondered if she was imagining that strained note in her daughter's voice. "It was just fake blood. Y'know. Uh, he didn't know about the cameras. And he was going to call me down to come see. So, ha, sorry about the ambulance, but you can send them away when they get here. 'Cause he's. He's fine."

Pamela's head drooped down on the desk. "Sam. Samantha."

Sam laughed nervously. "W-what?"

"You're grounded."

"Hey!"

Pam hung up. She gave a long, drawn-out sigh.

"What? So is he fine?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes," Pamela said exhaustedly.

Jeremy frowned at the screen. "He's still sticking to the bit."

Pamela glanced up and watched Sam dragging her friend across the grass, leaving behind an ugly trail of awfully convincing fake blood. She hoped it was water soluble.

"That girl is going to stop hanging out with those awful boys if it's the last thing I make her do."

[katyawriteswhump]

Never let me go (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18, Free Space--Hurt/Comfort. 

Steve’s really good at pretending he’s fixed—especially to himself—and decides he’s totally up for kinky fun with Eddie. Also part of my steve whump fic thread on ao3

WC: 922.

Rating: M.

CW: Mild kink and bondage, sexual content, panic attacks, PTSD, flashbacks. Tags: Emotional hurt/comfort. Trauma. Fluff, whump.

***

Eddie draws the tinsel garland around Steve’s arm, looping it loosely before dragging it tighter. Not too tight. Steve swallows hard, nerves fizzing. Eddie tethers Steve’s wrist to the bed frame behind his head with a loopy, hitchy knot.

“Where the heck did you learn—"

“My uncle. He’s worse than a billion scout leaders, I shit you not.” Eddie lazily kisses the tender underside of Steve’s wrist, beneath the knot, setting Steve’s pulse skittering. Eddie shifts his attention to Steve’s other hand. Steve has, without thinking, moved himself into place, ready to be tied. He’s happily drowning in Eddie’s gorgeous eyes, lapping up Eddie's hungry appreciation of him, till…

“You’re sure you’re good with this, Stevie?” 

“How many times, dude? I’m fine.” Steve slides his tongue around suddenly dry-feeling lips. “Tinsel is dangerous for cats and babies. I could literally snap this crap in half.”

“You could snap me in half.”

“I dunno. You’re crafty. And deceptively strong.” Steve tugs speculatively at the tinsel. It’s deceptively strong too, and the wire holding it together grooves into his flesh. Clearly breakable, though. If he wanted out.

He doesn’t.

When Eddie confessed a drunken desire to tie Steve to their bed, they’d both been apprehensive—given Steve’s “history,” with Soviets and throttling vines, and the rest of the shitshow. Using tinsel was Steve’s dumb, buzzed-out-of-his-skull idea.

Now, Eddie drags the tinsel across Steve’s bare chest, swirls it over his abs, raising goosebumps in its wake. Eddie’s using black and silver tinsel. “So pretty against your skin,” he purrs. Steve’s eyes flutter closed, because the sensations… Gnng! So good! Also, kinda excruciating. Both too little contact, and too much.

Eddie trails the tinsel lower. Steve’s wearing his boxers, and he moans, whimpers—why isn’t he naked yet? Eddie’s fingers drift down Steve’s leg, and Steve flexes into Eddie’s hand. Eddie spreads Steve’s leg toward the bedpost then crouches beside.

Eddie’s hot breaths scorch his flesh. Steve’s breaths accelerate further. As he binds Steve’s ankle, Eddie’s brows knit in concentration. Why’s that super-hot? Steve’s gotten a semi already, and he’s no clue what Eddie’s gonna do next.

“I better be naked soon, Munson.” Eddie lightly pinches Steve’s inner thigh, a total blindside. “Ow!”

“Patience, Babe. Or I’ll start over with your ass upward.”

Steve smirks: “Only just thought of that, moron?”

“Haha, don’t be a brat. Takin’ this slow. Now, shhhh.”

Steve shudders, frets his lip. Eddie winds the last of the tinsel around Steve’s other leg. This is still fun—right?—and he trusts Eddie. Okay, that nervous stirring in the pit of his stomach persists, but it’s sure as hell exciting. Eddie backs away, and Steve rolls his eyes. “Gonna eat me or fuck me?”

“C’mon on, man. Didn’t I say, ‘Sssssh’?”

“There’s better ways to shut me up.”

The kiss is delicious and deep, and Steve just breeeaaaaks. It’s easy to surrender to this—the hot, thrumming weight of Eddie’s clothed body pressed to his near-nakedness, the slick sweep of Eddie’s tongue, the frisson of tinsel against Steve’s ever-more-sensitive flesh as he fidgets and sighs. He feels wanted, worshipped… and randy as hell.

Eddie breaks the kiss abruptly. Before Steve can whine about it, Eddie presses a finger to his own lips, looking… kinda stressed?

The blood thundering in Steve’s ears calms enough for him to hear the loud knocking on the door.

“Eddie? Steve? Hellloooo!” It’s goddamn Henderson.

“I’ll tell him to scram.” Eddie leaves.

Steve’s breathing speeds up again—his face burns, the rest of his skin feels oddly chilled. Distant voices murmur, an owl hoots, and he’s all alone… and feeling… okay, yeah, vulnerable.

Don’t be a wuss, Harrington. You can break free if you want. It’s candy-ass tinsel.

He tugs at his bonds. 

No, don’t spoil the game.

His eyes lull closed, and he’s lost in an instant. 

His hands are tightly bound… above his head… no, behind his back? Shit, shit, shit, he’s losing track of everything save his terror. All he knows is he’s struggling, and he can’t get free and the Soviets are gonna hit him again. They just keep hitting him. Shouting in his face. He tastes the blood, and he’s screaming it over and over: “For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy.”

His raw throat clogs, then closes up. He can’t breathe! The vines… Those goddamn vines. They’re winding about his every limb, slithering, squeezing tight around his neck. His whole existence reduces to a desperate fight for air… I’m choking… drowning… suffocating… Oh God… Oh God! He fights in small, snatchy gasps that he barely believes in. Vecna’s got him, and he’s gonna die, and…

“Steve! Sweetheart, you’re okay… You’re okay… I gotcha.”

“Wha—” Steve’s eyes fly wide. Eddie. Eddie’s here! Leaning over him. Touching him tenderly. Reality slams back, and he throws an arm around Eddie’s neck and clings. Eddie hugs him close, and the whirlwind of his panic slows. His only actual pain is a faint sting in his wrists and ankles, where he’s busted through the tinsel.

“Crap, I’m sorry.” Eddie presses a soft kiss to Steve’s clammy brow. “Leaving you was dumb. The whole idea was dumb.”

“S’okay.” Steve buries his face in Eddie’s shoulder, and his pulse and breaths calm further. “I kinda enjoyed it till…” I totally lost my shit. He slowly inhales Eddie’s warm, reassuring scent. The terrifying flashbacks retreat a little further. He’s okay… He’s okay! As long as Eddie never lets him go, the darkness won’t win.

He nuzzles up toward Eddie’s ear: “Maybe try again next year?”

[anakinskywalkerog]

My Very Soul (Chapter 30)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 29

Warnings: battle stuffs. incorrect details about Felucia probably tehe. less Ani than usual but that's because of the story/where we're getting. also sorry if the writing sucks, I think I'm better at writing angst than I am at writing battles/war stuff haha back to angst soon

Summary: You and your Master enter the battle on Felucia, where your plan of attack goes amiss

Word Count: 3.3k

"Commander," Captain Marlo said again, and only this time did his words fully rouse you out of your brain fog. "We've reached orbit."

         "Right," you nodded, pretending as if you hadn't just lost your head a little bit. You had been standing at a hallway viewport, watching the ship come out of hyperspace, when that same feeling of buzzing presences had descended on you. The hum in this ship was anticipatory, anxious, battle-hungry—in these presences were the sentiments of soldiers preparing for war. But you'd found yourself getting drawn in by their impressions. And then the humming had shifted, to other feelings, other...places? You'd felt others, children, families, the sounds of birds, the steps on cobblestones, speech in alien tongues...but it was impossible, surely, for you to sense such things when you were this deep in space. Focus, you reminded yourself. You mustn't let your sensitivity to the Force plague you now.

         You followed Marlo to the main hangar, where Yuma, Obi-Wan, and Anakin were preparing to depart the command ship. Even though you'd only been separated for a few hours, the sight of Anakin made your heart leap, made your presence relax. A smile fell upon your face as if involuntarily. Anakin grinned back, and you felt a similar swell of emotion in the Force, coming from him.

         "Everything is prepared, General," Marlo told Yuma, and Yuma saluted, giving the hand gesture that signaled to Marlo that it was time to return to his troops.

         "We've just had word from the existing battalion at the Guild headquarters," Yuma told you all. "Their scouts have intel that the Droid Legion has split into three factions, aiming to strike the front from different angles." At these words, Master Yuma pulled out a handheld holoprojector. A hologram of a rudimentary map arose between you.

         "Y/N and I will lead the 415th to cut off the southern platoon," Yuma instructed, pointing to a dot on the map. "Anakin, you'll take the 501st around here, on the southeast. Obi-Wan—"

         "The 212th and I will take the eastern side," Obi-Wan interrupted, nodding. "I assume time is of the essence." You felt a slight disturbance in the Force and looked over at Anakin, seeing him attempt to hide the traces of his pout, his eyebrows downturned.

         "Yes, it is," Yuma agreed, pocketing the holoprojector. "May the Force be with you both."

         "May the Force be with you," Obi-Wan replied, turning to the other side of the hangar, where his ship sat ready to take him to join the 212th on the flank vessel. A pause hung in the air as Anakin stood, as if caught in a Force hold, half-turned away.

         "I—" Anakin swallowed, looking pained as he glanced between you and Yuma. You felt your face flush.

         "We'll see each other again soon," Yuma told Anakin bracingly. You felt something move in the Force, something between Yuma and Anakin. You scowled, sensing the reason behind Anakin's distress, and finding it a little insulting.

         "May the Force be with you both," Anakin sighed, and with that, he turned to follow Obi-Wan to board his own ship, off to join the 501st.

         As the command ship was to remain in orbit, you followed Yuma onto one of the landing craft, holding onto the railing on the side as the ship took off. You stood facing at least one hundred clones, all armored and ready for battle. Marlo too had donned his helmet—you could only recognize him by the markings on his torso plate.

         "What's our play, General?" one of the clones asked Yuma. You wished you knew his name.

         "The Serrulean ambush," Yuma instructed, updating her holopad quickly as the lander made its way down to the surface. The other clones all received their instructions in their armor, and you heard rumbling chatter. You quickly ran over this tactic in your head—the Serrulean ambush was a stealth maneuver, devised to sneak up on the enemy from multiple sides. Clever, you thought, to use the Legion's own plan against them. You'd had all the war tactics memorized for months, but you still ran over this one in your head over and over again, remembering the role the Commander and General must play at every turn. There were no viewports aboard this lander, only the shaking of the ship and the feeling of movement. The air was tense and thick, a dingy remnant of what it must smell like in the clones' quarters. You felt the anticipation in the Force. You were surprised to feel the ship touch down onto the surface so quickly.

         As the lander's doors opened, upward toward the sky, and clones spilled out, you felt a blast of warm, humid air hit your face. It was not like the pleasant warmth of the air on Levangé—this air was assaulting, wet, and muggy, even slightly foul smelling. Within seconds you felt your hair sticking to your forehead, your body beginning to sweat under the thin armor you had put on for the first time. The Jedi insignia stood out, red, on your shoulder.

         "Serrulean formation," Yuma said quietly into her comm, and as the lander pulled up from the jungle, you watch the clones disperse in perfect harmony. You followed Master Yuma at the head of the remaining group of clones, making sure your steps were quiet.

         The jungle was truly unlike anything you'd ever seen. It was overgrown, colorful, and bright. The trees and the greenery—if you could call it that, multicolored as the flora around you was—loomed high above the troops. You'd never seen plants that looked like this, or plants of this size. Some of the plants resembled those that grew in the Temple gardens, in shape at least—but these were massive, as big as the tallest trees on Batuu, and brightly colored. You saw in the distance several rocky outcrops, and, farther away, what looked like mountain ranges. The ground underneath your feet was wet, soft, and warm. The brightness seemed unnatural, and it wasn't only the plants; the sky was a bright yellow, with purplish clouds hanging low over the jungle. Everything around you gave you that sickly, uncanny feeling—as if these colors were dangerous.

         Almost as if responding to your train of thought, you felt the disturbance before the danger, and you quickly reached out a hand, pulling the clone to your left out of the way just in time. Through no provocation, the giant succulent to the left of the group, a bright purple and lime green, erupted like a geyser, orange gas pouring out into the air right where the clone had just stood. The group processed this silently, pausing to watch the plant continue erupting before all of the orange gas disappeared from the air. The clone you had saved saluted you, and you saluted back, finally feeling useful. Yuma patted you on the arm, giving the group of clones the silent hand command to continue forward.

         The group walked for some time through the jungle, the clones holding their guns cocked. Your lightsaber hung at your side, as you were waiting for Master Yuma's cue to light it—lightsabers were to remain unlit during all stealth maneuvers. You felt outward through the Force, sensing the vibrations through the ground, feeling forward for any danger. That's when you felt them.

         About fifty yards ahead of you, you felt the pounding of metallic feet and the hover of Armored Assault Tanks. They weren't moving in your direction, but perpendicular to your path, in what you assumed was the direction of the Guild headquarters. You reached forward, lightly placing your hand on Yuma's arm. She nodded without looking back at you—she'd felt them too.

         At Yuma's hand signal, you and the clones fanned out through the dense underbrush, taking on a perfect Serrulean attack formation. You saw Yuma using her comm to signal silently to the other clone groups. You walked forward slowly, holding your breath, until you were in attack position. The droid troops were just paces in front of you now, and you looked around, seeing the clones readying themselves. You waited for the signal, trying to breathe out your fear.

         It happened all at once. At the signal, you leapt into the air, lighting your saber in one fluid motion. You had at least ten droids halved and in pieces on the ground before any of them had turned to regard your attack. But they were turning now, and you heard the clones behind you, their blasters going off with the sound of the lasers. The battle droids were all over the place, unsuspecting as they were of your attack. You'd gotten through a large chunk of them before the Armored Assaut Tanks had the chance to turn around.

         You felt it before it would happen and shouted at the clones nearest you to get out of the way. You jumped again, flying into the air like a flea, feeling the heat from the blast singe the bottom of your tunic. Your ears pounded, trying to recover from the sound the tank had made from the blast of its powerful guns. You landed amidst the bodies and the scattered armor, you heart beating firmly.

         Focus, you told yourself again, feeling the pang inside of you, turning away from the lost clones. You couldn't let yourself grieve. You had to remain in formation.

         "Y/N, the tanks!" you heard Yuma shout from your right side. Turning to see her running forward toward the hovering tank, ahead on your right, you spun quickly, running in between the confused battle droids, keeping your head low. You used your saber to block their useless shots, swiping through and destroying those you could as you ran. You kept your eyes on your target.

         The tank loomed above you, and you watched as another blast shot out of its gun, hearing the sound of it making contact with the battalion behind you. You ran flat out, as fast as you could, dropping to your back and sliding underneath the hovering craft, your saber held out above your chest like a sword.

         Slicing through the metal was easy—you used your momentum to carry your slide until the tank was no longer above you. You hopped up, blocking a blast from the command droid emerging from the top of the tank, and reflecting the bullet back toward its chest. The tank made a horrible grinding noise and fell to the earth. You turned and saw Yuma standing by her disabled tank. She nodded to you, smiling.

         It was then that you felt it—through the energy of the battle, through the sounds of the clones engaging the droid army, through the blasts from the tanks, something bigger was thundering your way, faster than any instrument of war could travel.

         "Yuma!" you shouted, turning to see her eyes light up in fear. You turned back to behold it: the largest creature you'd ever seen on land, thundering through the jungle, flattening trees and plants. A jungle rancor.

         The creature roared with fury, using its large arms and claws to tear apart the tank closest to it. It then roared again, turning on the clones, who started to aim their blasters at its head.

         "Don't engage it!" Yuma shouted into her comms. "Its armor is too thick." But it was no use—the jungle rancor ran forward, scattering clones and droids alike. The beast took no side, but it was out for blood.

         "Full back!" Yuma shouted again. You saw, from a distance, the clones retreating into the jungle, their guns aloft, shooting at the droids and at the rancor. But you couldn't follow them—you stood, with Yuma, in the middle of the platoon of droids, all who seemed to be following orders to shoot right at your hearts. You blocked their attacks with your sabers, but they were closing in. You found yourself back to back with your former Master.

         "What do we do?" you asked, your voice frantic, blocking the blasts from the droids as you saw the rancor raging through the platoon, grabbing droids and shoving them into its mouth.

         "We need to get out of here," Yuma said, stating the obvious. She was looking around quickly, assessing your surroundings. You did the same.

         "There!" you yelled, pointing to the nearest rocky outcrop behind the rancor. You could see the tiny dark line that indicated a cave high up in the rock.

         "Right," Yuma said, looking around as she used her saber to block blasts left and right. "On my signal."

         You nodded, but you had no need. You were communicating with your Master through the Force. This was a maneuver you'd done before, in different circumstances, though your situation had never been so dire as this.

         "Now!" Yuma shouted, and you both leapt into the air, in formation, your sabers spinning around you as you flew in an arc, out of the circle of droids, slicing through them with your blades. You landed lightly, your Master beside you, and the two of you watched as the rancor turned toward you, swiping away droids left and right with its giant claws.

         "Run!" Yuma yelled, but you didn't need telling twice. You turned and sprinted, holding your saber in a reverse hold behind your back, blocking blasts as you felt them come. As you climbed up into the jungle rock, you looked back, seeing the rancor turning on the tanks. They were attempting to fire at it, but the blasts were bouncing off its thick hide, going in all directions. You felt one of the blasts hit the ground beneath you, shaking the rock.

         "In here," you said, turning to give Yuma a hand up into the cave you'd seen from a distance. Droids were not intelligent enough to come find you in here, and so, you knew, you'd be safe hiding for the time being. But not for long, you thought, your heart hammering in your chest.

         "Farther back," Yuma instructed quietly, and as she climbed fully into the rock face, you both crawled, farther into the cave, into the darkness.

         You were surprised at how far back the cave went. This was no ordinary jungle, you realized, feeling the dampness of the rock floor and the humidity of the air.

         "This should be sufficient," Yuma whispered when you'd crawled far enough in that your forms were just barely visible. You turned back, your eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light, seeing Yuma kneeling and pulling out her chrono. The cave was not large enough for either of you to stand. You looked around, seeing that the tunnel kept leading inward, into the rock.

         "What now?" you asked quietly, seeing Yuma signaling with a few taps.

         "I've told Marlo to regroup with the others at the Guild," Yuma responded, looking back up at you. "We'll have to find our way there ourselves." Yuma gestured toward the dark tunnel, holding her saber high and trying to see forward.

         "How do you know there's another way out?" you asked, holding your saber up in the same fashion. You couldn't see much from the light it cast. The green of your saber and Yuma's against the rock gave the cave an eerie feeling.

         "I don't," Yuma responded. "Only one way to find out."

         You continued crawling forward, feeling Yuma's troubled presence behind yours. Eventually, the tunnel in the rock grew larger, and it widened enough for you to stand. You brushed your tunic, pushing your sweaty hair away from your face. It was slightly cooler in here than it had been in the heat of the jungle, but it was still humid.

         "You know," Yuma said casually, "you did very well out there. For your first battle, I mean."

         "Thanks," you said gruffly, walking forward and holding your lightsaber high. You were conflicted. On the one hand, you couldn't help but feel a hint of the same annoyance that you had felt on the ship, when Anakin had been reluctant to leave you. Why did everyone seem so protective? Why did Yuma feel the need to praise you, now? It was a little condescending. On the other hand, you were glad that Yuma was with you. Her presence made this feel like just another mission—like old times. It was comforting, having her support.  

         "Even though I know you'll be leading your own battalion, soon," Yuma continued, and you could hear a smile in her voice, "I think we still make a good team." In Yuma's presence you felt a hint of nostalgia, a warm feeling. You sighed.

         "We do," you said, turning and smiling at your former Master. She clasped your arm briefly, then gestured for you to continue forward.

         The cave seemed to grow darker and darker as you delved deeper into the depths of the rock. The ground under your feet started to feel funny. The darkness swayed a bit, as if the rocks themselves were humming, vibrating. You felt as if the cave was starting to moan, to chant—except it wasn't the cave. You heard the humming continue, a buzzing, a bell chiming somewhere, the voices rising in a swell.

         "Y/N? What is it?" you heard Yuma ask from behind you, her hand touching your shoulder.

         "I...I don't..." you said, scrunching your eyes shut, stopping in your tracks. It was like the ground was telling you not to continue. Yuma pulled on your shoulder and spun you around, holding her saber high so that she could look at your face.

         "Is it Dooku?" Yuma whispered, barely making a sound. Whatever she saw on your face, it was causing her to feel alarmed. Her presence was frightened. You blinked, trying to see what was really in front of you. Through your blurry vision, you saw Yuma pull out her chrono, signaling to someone.

         "No..." you started, trying to feel your way through the murky weeds of the humming, feeling the clouds coming for you once again. It wasn't Dooku—of that you were sure. You would recognize his presence. But...you heard the sounds of singing, some old, low song, the dark voices all singing the same note. You felt the sounds of voices rising and falling, heard the buzzing of a fly landing in a field of grass. You heard the grass, the wind swaying through it. You heard them all, all of them alive, living. You felt it coming. You felt the darkness meeting the light.

         Suddenly, the ground under you rumbled, as if the rock had been hit by another blast. The cave started to shake, the ground underneath you unstable. Slowly, the rock split, shifting, opening a chasm before you.

         "It's going to cave in!" Yuma shouted, pushing you out of the way. You fell, hard, fighting through the fog to reach for Yuma, but it was too late—you felt her arm slip away from yours, felt her sliding away from you, down into the depths of the cave.

         "Yuma! Master!" you yelled, frantically, but the humming was growing louder. The dark voices were swelling, their low notes chanting in the darkness, and you couldn't see. You couldn't feel. You reached out with your hands. "Master!" you yelled again, feeling the fear enter your presence, but it was no use. It was too dark. You felt the cave pulling you forward, swallowing you. Were you falling into the chasm? You couldn't know. The humming was all around you. The voices were getting louder.

         Something grabbed onto your wrists, pulling them together and binding them. The humming wouldn't stop. You reached out with the Force, pushing the humming back, pushing it off you. It was then that you felt the presence—a familiar presence. You wrenched your eyes open.

         "Hello, again," you heard in the woman's voice, and you stared into a pair of malevolent violet eyes.

************************************************************************

sorry for the cliff hanger!

NEW CHAPTER UP NOW AND IT'S 😭😭😭

luh you

taglist: @iyoogi @cluelessgurl @layazul @annadastra @graciexmarvel @galaxiasy @organasith @indigoblues1207 @outoftheregular @katsukiswrld @prettyboyrryy @jellydodger @wildflower57 @padmeamidalaslover @em-asian @heavenseraph @iloveinej @leapofblank @sahverah @elsyyie @usuallyunlikelyfox @jadeonce @papadragun @dopejellyfishfury @stxrrielle @lilianashomaresparza @prettylittlecarstairs @deadunicorn159 @atoelicker @arelisskywalker @maythefloorbewithyouanakin @your-local-crzy-lady @dontmindme262 @xenochuguardian @cassiopeiashift @allihavenegativethoughts @hamiltonwc @1-800-nostalgiaaa @heyitsaloy @haydenchristensenluvbot @sunflwrsunnieshine @muthafuckingstargirl @window-to-nothing @shadowhuntyi @jedi-archives @inmourningforanakin @vivsmcdo @betrund @ahqkas @aquaamethyst96 @escapepoet @randomstuff2040 @kenjikishimotosupremecy @nycweb-slinger @anxlaufeyson @magic-magnoliaa @theezlife @unipugrose22-blog @anhsoka @lucyysthings @hopefulpursepeanutdeputy @captainson-of-coul @zelzablues @chrisevansslutttt2

[arkangel9]

guys yk what TIME FOR PT 2

The boys unpack without much conversation. Varadha decides to look for a place to stash his suitcase. He notices to save space the dorm had a in wall storage area but the empty suitcase was still pretty bulky and he couldn't just quite manage to move it in

(guys like there's such a storage space in me home okay. its like on top of the bathroom wall theres like a square of space b/w the bathrooms roof(false ceiling kinda) and the actual roof so thats what im referring here haha)

He almost trips when the suitcase's weight pulls him back.

Whoa hey there easy . I'll help out.

The boy-Deva easily shoulders the case and throws it up with little exertion he reaches his hand for Varadha's 2nd suitcase before lugging it over in the same manner. Varadha felt a little embarrassed at showing such a weak side of him. He did go to the gym but from the lines of muscles he could see peeking out from the other man's shirt. He was no match. He grabs Deva's empty bags too since he felt useless standing there like a dame in distress.

He thanks Deva who returns his thanks with a smile before crashing onto the bed to scroll through his phone. Varadha grabs a set of his clothes before making his way to the bathroom. He hangs the clothes on a rack before throwing his dirty ones into the basket in the corner.

*ONE RELAXING SHOWER SCENE LATER*

Varadha walks out to find the other man had fallen asleep. He checked the time on his phone before gauging he had a solid 2 hours till the welcome ceremoney. He sets an alarm before dozing off himself

Rough hands shake him awake. He wakes, blinking blearily. He sits up rubbing sleep off his eyes. His eyes connect with Deva's who seemed panicked. His quizzical expression prompted the other man to tap his watch. He hurridly grabs his phone before seeing he overslept.

not by 30 mins

not by an hour or 2 either

but by A SOLID FUCKING 5 HOURS

He had arrived in the early morning and now the sun was setting outside. The other man looked sheepish and from his rumpled clothes and sleep lines still tracing his cheeks Varadha understood that he wasn't the only one to sleep so much, Both of them also probably missed lunch . They both look at each other, unwitting partners in crime.

Varadha's brain raced to find a solution that didn't involve the dean making a personal call to his dad and him ending up getting chewed out by his Akka.

Somebody knocks on the door. The 2 men hold their breaths.

FUCK

Varadha quickly signals Deva to lend his ear. The youth bends a little but not enough. Varadha catches ahold of his face pulling it closer before whispering.

'I'll pretend I'm deathly ill and you can pretend you were taking care of me . Hurry go hold up a thermometer to the bulb. Ill arrange the wet cloth. '

The knocks at the door increase and a voice shouts at them to open the door unless they wish to be expelled before they even set foot in the classrooms. The men rush to set the stage. Varadha rumples himself up before getting some warm water to splash himself to act as sweat. He pinches his face to redden and slaps a cold towel on his forehead. Deva climbs on a chair to reach the bulb to get the fake thermometer reading. He makes sure to not make it too high to make it believable. He sticks it in Varadha's mouth before running to open the door.

The Dean stands there looking unimpressed.

Where were the both of you earlier. ? This is an incredibly rude thing to do and THAT TOO ON YOUR FIRST DAY. DO YOU KNOW HOW THIS REFLECTS ON YOUR PUNCTUALITY. IF YOU CANT EVEN MAKE IT TO A SIMPLE CEREMONY HOW THE HELL SHOULD I EXPECT YOU TO MAKE IT TO A CLASS IN TIME. DO YOU THINK THE PROFESSORS WILL COME HERE AND PUT YOUR HEAD IN THEIR LAP AND TEACH YOU.

Varadha rolls his eyes at the school teacher style scolding and barely masks a laugh at the last lines. He looks at Deva through half lidded eyes. The boy was staring at the Dean with apologetic puppy eyes, a picture of remorse.

Varadha bursts into a violent fake coughing fit to remind Deva his lines. Both pairs of eyes focus on him. Deva's filled with genuine concern. The fit startles Deva into rattling off how ill his roommate was and how his heart didnt allow him to leave the coughing retching young man alone. Varadha punctuates every other sentence with oscar worthy coughs and moans out an apology in a voice that sounds like he just rolled out of a coffin.

The Dean seemed convinced. He stalks over to Varadha's bed . Varadha fears the game will be up but Deva shouts.

Sir I think he might be contagious and at your age Sir. Is there a need to take such a risk?

The Dean lurches away from Varadha before turning to face Deva

Don't repeat this.

He shoots a glare to both of them before leaving . Deva watched from the open doorway till the man leaves his sight. He closes the door and locks it before sliding down the door , body shaking with laughter. Varadha tosses the wet cloth and wipes off the water . He throws the towel at the other man who descends into another fit of giggles.

Varadha joins in

[citadelsanchez]

Hey there

May I request a rick × a female short-tempered reader whose soft and kind, only with him and for him?

Thank you so much~

Heyoo. Ngl, I wrote this half asleep tbh and my brain would not give me any better ideas so I hope it's decent haha. Enjoy (:

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

"I swear to Goddddd" you seethe, gritting your teeth and clutching the steering wheel.

You'd been stuck in traffic for a ridiculous amount of time, which was adding onto your anger from the hours before. There wasn't anything in particular that ruined your day, just the usual routine of rude customers at work, your one (and honestly only) friend pushing your buttons, and now shitty drivers making the way home insufferable.

Your almost-relationship also hasn't responded to your texts in 3 hours, which secretly made you want to scream although you'd never let it be known. He thrives off of your annoyance, there's no room for emotional vulnerability slips.

Which most people don't seem to expect from you anyway.

"You need to work on your friendliness," your manager quipped at you earlier. "Your happy tone is there but your face just looks flat and unamused constantly."

You'd just bit your tongue and refrained from saying that it's already a massive effort to keep from strangling most of those that come in everyday.

"Uh-huh, sure. So can I come over later when I get off?" You'd texted Rick, your aforementioned almost-relationship. You call it that because you've been seeing each other for a couple of months, but haven't put any labels on anything. They weren't really his thing; you guessed it came with the territory of being insanely intelligent. Nothing needed to be explained in his eyes.

You felt like the text came off as clingy, and assumed that it's why he didn't text back, which only made you feel worse. But oh, if you would have asked to sit on his cock, he would've texted back at the speed of light. Such an asshole.

You pull into your driveway now, getting out and slamming the car door. A nosy neighbor was on the sidewalk across from your house, mindlessly staring at you and the display of irritability.

You put your hands together to mimic a camera and pretend to click the top.

"Take a fucking picture, yeah?" You say and head inside. You don't mean to be so volatile and hot-headed, but in your humble defense, people truly drag it out of you.

You go into your bedroom and sigh, flinging your work clothes off to slip into casual pajamas and flop down on your bed.

"D-damn babe, judging by the way you toOOOK those clothes off, I'm assuming it wasn't a g-good day at work?" A voice says, making you screech as you had your eyes closed.

You look around the room to see Rick, stood in front of your closet, half smirking with portal gun in hand.

"Rick- fuck, don't scare me like that you massive cunt," you breathe out. You've told him that you're not a huge fan of him portaling into your personal space at random. But Rick being Rick, you might as well have been talking to the wall.

"T-tell me how it went, Ms. Grumps," he responds, walking over to sit on the bed with you. You feel a sense of comfort wash over you as his scent fills your nose and the warmth of his body radiates beside you.

You bite your lip and look down, embarrassed at how often your rage consumes you. You also don't want him to notice that your body seems to naturally detox when he's around.

"Um, ya know, just the usual stuff. Which you would know if you had texted me back," you replied, a hint of both hurt and playfulness in your voice.

He stares at you for a second before he gently puts his hand on top of yours and clears his throat.

"Yeah I-I'm sorry about that, M-Morty and I got caught up on Flarbellion chasing t-these Robobros. Almost took my fucking h-hand" Rick says.

"Uh huh, I'm sure. I just missed you" you mumble, still feeling a little upset and being unable to hide it.

"Come on d-don't be whiney, I'm- your knight in shining armor is here now," he smirks again, leaning in to move a strand of hair out of your face and put a hand on your thigh.

Your breath hitches a little and your heart starts beating rapidly. You're used to being around him and being in him but these sweet actions- they're small and rare all the same.

Rick shifts to sit behind you and starts running both hands through your hair now, one massaging your scalp slowly and the other petting it gently. You moan slightly in ecstasy from the feeling and lean back into him.

"Rick, that feeels so good."

After a minute or two you turn around and wrap your arms around him sheepishly. "Thank you, Rick. I can return the favor if you'd like."

"Th-that's okay hun, just wanted to help. I-I've got some favors you could return instead though." He says, his voice suggestive and grin as evident as ever.

"Shut up, you're the worst. And the best," you admit, realizing that in just a few minutes time he'd made all your stresses melt away completely. It happens every time.

"D-don't I know it, sweet girl," he smiles down at you, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

[sequinsmile-x]

You're Gonna Go Far

It wasn't any easier even though they'd been through this once before with Jack.

AKA - the one where Aaron and Emily's eldest daughter goes to college.

-x-

Hi friends

Given the time of year, and the amount of TikTok videos I've seen of people decorating their dorm rooms (I can tell you...mine did NOT look like that haha) this idea wouldn't leave me alone.

So here it is, close to 5k words of domestic, soft Hotchniss and their family going through something most families do.

And if you've just moved away to college you're going to be great!!

I hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None!

Words: 4.8k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Everyone had always told her that it went quickly. 

It was something she’d been told more times than she could count during her pregnancies, both by people she knew and strangers alike. Kind-looking older ladies in the grocery store who’d touch her belly without asking and tell her to enjoy it, that before she knew it her babies would be growing up, moving away and taking everything she taught them with them. 

She’d seen it with Jack. Watched as the boy who was once her best friend's son became her son. Turning from the sweet little boy who couldn’t pronounce her name properly, to the kid that started to call her Mom just before he became a teenager, to the young man he was now. Forever making his parents proud, and the best big brother Emily’s other children could have hoped for. 

There was part of her that had still struggled to believe it. Lost in the long nights with no sleep. Parenthood slowly, but also too fast now she looked back on it, moving from sleep deprivation and sore boobs, to pretending not to cry on their first days at school so she didn’t scare them, all the way to now. Nights spent patiently watching the clock as it ticked closer to her eldest daughter’s curfew, anxious until she heard the familiar scrape of her key in the lock. Hazel had never once been late, her diligence and sensibility that came from the half of her that was Aaron always taking precedence, but Emily always worried that one day the half of her that was her would win out. Memories of what she’d been like when she was Hazel’s age haunting her as the seconds ticked by, almost making her wish she could apologise to her own mother. 

Standing on the football field of her kid's high school, the one Jack had gone to, the one Hazel was about to leave, the one where the twins still went, Emily couldn’t believe it had been 18 years. 18, long but all too short, years since she’d held her first daughter for the first time. Since Hazel was a tiny dot of a thing who had almost fit into one of Aaron’s hands. The girl who was now a young woman, taller than her mother and, as Aaron would always say, every bit as beautiful. 

It had all happened so quickly, and whilst Emily was so proud of her family, of the people her children were and would no doubt be, she yearned for the days when they were small. And she knew she’d give just about anything to have one more interrupted night of sleep where one of them crawled into her bed.

“I found our seats.”

She looks up at Aaron and smiles, nodding as he leads them into the area that had been reserved for them. She guides the twins, in first, grateful when they sit next to each other without argument, a smile flitting across her face as she watches Violet brush something off of Lucas’s shoulder. They were each other's fiercest protector, but also their harshest critic. Arguments that would sometimes feel like they would shake the whole house reminding her of when she was pregnant with them, and how Aaron would place his hand on her belly and joke it seemed like they were fighting in there, elbows and tiny feet always shifting around inside of her. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” Aaron asks, his hand reaching out for hers as she pauses, she turns to him and nods, unsurprised to see the same fix of emotions she was feeling in his eyes shining right back at her. 

“Yeah,” she replies, squeezing his hand in reassurance, “I’m fine, I promise.” 

Emily smiles as she sits down, blowing out a steady breath as her eyes meet Hazel’s from her place on the stage, her daughter looking every part the 18-year-old she was. Grown up in a way that made Emily’s heart clench in her chest. Hazel smiles at her, and lifts her hand to wave ever so slightly, something anyone else who was looking at her would miss, the movement making her graduation gown shift, the dark green material complimenting her dark hair.

“$10 Mom cries first,” Violet says, drawing Emily’s attention away from the stage and back to the rest of her family sitting around her. 

Emily turns to look at her youngest daughter and raises her eyebrow, “Vi, what have I said about gambling at school events?” 

“That would be a terrible bet for me to take,” Lucas says, ignoring that his mother had spoken at all as he looks at his twin sister with the scowl all of the kids had inherited from Aaron, “Mom will obviously cry first. Then Dad will cry because he always does when he sees Mom crying.”

“Kids,” Aaron says, leaning in past Emily from her other side so he can talk to them without drawing too much attention, his arm around the back of his wife’s chair, “Give your mom a break.” 

Violet shrugs and leans back in her chair, “I’m just saying, we all know Mom is tougher than you, but anything to do with us makes her cry.” 

Aaron’s eyes flick to his wife’s, not missing how her eyes briefly sparkle with amusement. It makes relief crackle in his chest. She was just as excited for Hazel as he was, and just as sad too. The prospect of their daughter now only being a couple of months away from moving away for college hung over this event just like it did with everything these days. 

He makes a show of looking annoyed, something he knows his whole family can see right through, and he furrows his brow, “You think Mom is tougher than me?” 

“Definitely,” the twins reply in unison, their voices joined by a familiar third one that makes him turn around. He smiles and stands as soon as he sees Jack, pulling his eldest into a tight hug. 

“Jack, she’ll be so pleased you made it,” he says, squeezing his son even tighter, the strength in the hug he gets back matching it. 

Jack smiles as she pulls back, “I wouldn’t miss Hazelnut graduating for the world,” he says, smiling as uses the nickname they all know Hazel hates. He smiles at Emily, who also stands up to hug her son, “Hi, Mom.” 

“Hi sweetie,” she says, kissing the side of his head as she pulls back, tilting her head towards the twins, “Your brother and sister were just placing bets on who will cry first.” 

He smiles and squeezes past her, sitting on the end seat they’d saved for him, ruffling both of the twin's dark hair as he goes, “I’ll take that bet,” he says, making Emily groan as she sits back down, “But, I’m going to say Hazel will cry first, and that will make the rest of us break.” 

Emily leans in towards her husband and speaks quietly so only he can hear her, “I’m seriously starting to regret all those times we left our precious children in the care of Dave.” 

Aaron chuckles and stamps a kiss against her lips, ignoring that Violet and Lucas catch it, both of them grimacing in the background, “Is this better or worse than when he taught Violet to curse in Italian before she even started pre-school?” 

She smiles, but any response is cut off as the commencement begins, everyone’s attention drawn to the stage in front of them. They all listen intently as the principal talks about the graduating class, making jokes and comments that draw out laughter from the sea of students wearing the dark green gowns, his smile wide as he talks about how proud the school is of them. How they’ll take everything they learnt from there wherever they go next. 

Emily feels her heart stop in her chest as he moves on, declaring the next stage of the event.

“Before we move on, it’s time for our Valedictorian, Hazel Hotchner, to make her commencement speech.” 

Aaron grabs her hand, linking their fingers together as Hazel walks up to the podium. She looks over at her family and smiles, a bit of tension in her shoulders easing as she makes eye contact with her father. His reassurance a balm to all of their kids, much like it always had been for Emily. 

“Thank you, Principal Shepard,” she says, her voice shaking slightly from the nerves. She looks down at her notes, the ones she’d banned her parents and siblings from looking at for weeks, claiming she wanted her speech to be a surprise. She blows out a steady breath and looks back up, “Fellow students, faculty and friends and family, it’s hard to believe this day has come.” 

Emily pays close attention as Hazel talks about her time at the school, about how she’d got lost on the first day, despite her older brother drawing her a map of the layout, only to find when she got home that she’d held it upside down all day. How she’d fallen in love with computer science there, the subject she planned to major in at college, and how she’d met friends she hopes she’ll know her whole life. Emily feels pride bubbling in her chest, threatening to completely overwhelm her. She blows out a shaky breath and feels Violet’s hand wrap around the one not being held by Aaron. She looks at her daughter and smiles, squeezing her hand when she sees the tears shining in her eyes, all of her previous bravado long gone as she watches the sister she’ll know she miss when she moves to college take this major step. 

“Lastly, I’d like to take a moment to thank my family,” Hazel says, and Emily stops breathing for a second, well aware that this would be her undoing. Aaron tenses next to her, his shoulders tight from how he was holding himself together. 

“Oh boy,” Lucas whispers, just loud enough for Emily to hear him, “Here we go.” 

“I want to thank my brothers and my sister for teaching me how to share,” Hazel says, once again letting her gaze drift towards her family, “And for also teaching me that you can love someone and still be incredibly annoyed at them,” she smiles when the crowd laughs, and Emily notices some people, parents she knows from other events, looking back and smiling at them, “I’d like to thank my dad for always being there. Not just for looking scary enough, as well as having an actually having scary job before he retired, so no one dared bully me in case I called him, but for being the dad everyone wishes they could have. There was never any nail polish too bright when I asked to paint your nails, or tiny teacup too small when we’d all gang up on you and beg you to play with us.”

He feels his throat threaten to close up, a familiar burning in the back of it as he tries to push the feeling away. Not wanting tears to blur his vision so he missed a single second of this. Emily squeezes his hand and he looks at her and sees that she’s fighting the same battle, her eyes starting to shine. 

“And lastly, I want to thank my mom,” Hazel says, clearing her throat when her voice cracks a little, “Not only is she the best mom anyone could ever ask for, she is, by far, the smartest person I know. I’m not sure many people know this, but my mom is a polyglot. She speaks so many languages she taught each of us a different one. She taught me French,” she looks at Emily in the crowd, and their dark eyes meet, and for a moment, Emily feels like she’s the only person Hazel is speaking to, “It was always one of my favourite things, it was as if we had a secret code between us. Stolen moments in the chaos of the home I feel lucky to have grown up in. So,” she says, clearing her throat again, a tear dropping onto her cheek, something she quickly wipes away as if it hadn’t happened, “Mom - Je vous aime. Tu es ma personne préférée. Quand je serai grand, je veux être comme toi,” Hazel looks back at the crowd as a whole and smiles, “Thank you.” 

Emily is grateful for the applause that follows because it gives her a moment to recover. She doesn’t bother covering the fact that she’s crying, because she knows it’s pointless. Tears burning down her cheeks as she stands and joins in on the applause. She looks at Aaron and sees he’s crying too, his pride evident. Shining out of his face like the sun, bright and warm as he carries on clapping a few beats longer than everyone else. Something that, she knows in any other circumstances, would make their children claim they are embarrassing. 

She hears a sniff from next to her and turns to look at her children, smiling softly when she sees they are all crying. Violet rests her head on Emily’s shoulder when they all sit back down and she wraps her arms both of her arms around Emily’s, her hands grasping at her tricep. 

“Voglio bene alla tua mamma,” she says quietly, just loud enough for Emily to hear over the murmuring crowd whilst the next speaker gets their speech ready. 

Emily smiles and rests her head on top of her daughters, “Ti amo anche io dolcezza.”

Jack leans in, making sure only his family can hear him, “I told you Hazel would cry first.” 

Lucas frowns, turning to look at his brother, “Wait, Haze never cries. How did you know?”

Jack smirks, looking very proud of himself, “She emailed me her speech weeks ago.” 

___

The summer goes by faster than it ever had before. 

Days and weeks melting away, slipping through Emily’s fingers until it's the night before they drive Hazel to college. Their car was packed full of her things ready for them to leave in the morning, the teenager determined to get to New York as soon as possible. 

She was only going to be a few hours away.

It was a mantra Emily had been telling herself, and one her daughter had said to her multiple times, ever since Hazel had been accepted into Columbia. It was closer than Jack had been during college, and she can’t help but hope that when it’s time the twins decide to stay nearby. 

She shakes the thought off, sure it would tip her over the edge if she thinks about that too much, and she blows out a steady breath. She stares at the bedroom door and twists her wedding rings around her finger as she goes over the list of things they bought for Hazel’s dorm room, mentally checking off if they were already in the car or in the pile of things her daughter had asked to have overnight. 

Aaron walks out of the ensuite and looks at his wife, stopping just short of the bed when he sees the faraway look in her eyes, how she’s twisting her rings around her finger, a habit he’s grateful replaced biting her cuticles long ago because he knows they’d be shredded by now if it hadn’t. 

They were all struggling with the thought of Hazel leaving, even the twins, although they were trying to act unaffected. It wasn’t any easier just because it was the second time they were doing this, and he was sure it wouldn’t get any easier the next time they did. He smiles as he watches her, the look in her eyes the same as it had been the first night they’d moved Hazel from a bassinet next to Emily’s side of the bed to her nursery. Her gaze sparkling with love and concern, the same concoction that had got them both through being a parent all these years. 

“Are you okay sweetheart?” 

Emily looks up at him and smiles absentmindedly, nodding as he climbs into bed next to her, her eyes drifting back to the door, “Do you think she's okay?” 

He sighs as he loops his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side. He kisses the side of her head, his soft smile pressed into her grey hair, “You asked the same thing the first night she slept in the nursery.” 

She chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in her throat, “That doesn’t even feel that long ago,” she says, wiping her cheek with the heel of her hand as she leans into his side, more tears falling past her lash line, “How is she going to college tomorrow?” She asks rhetorically, shaking her head slightly before she sits up, her smile quivering as he wipes some tears away for her, “What if she needs me?” 

He leans in to stamp a kiss against her lips before he pulls back, his hand on her cheek, “She’s only going to be a few hours away,” he says, stroking her skin with his thumb, “And she can call whenever she needs to.” 

She nods, leaning into the warmth of his palm, “I know,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “I know,” she repeats as she clears her throat and laughs humourlessly, “I guess I’d better get used to them not needing us anymore.” 

He opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by a gentle knock on the door. He turns to look at it and calls out, “Come in.” 

The door opens slightly, just enough for Hazel to lean in a little, “You guys aren’t making out are you?”

Emily laughs as she shakes her head, wiping her cheeks, determined that Hazel wouldn’t see her upset, “No,” she says, furrowing her brow at her daughter as she opens the door the entire way and steps into the bedroom, “Why do you always ask that?”

Hazel hums and smiles, a half-hearted thing that makes concern spark in Emily’s chest, “I’ve been burned before.” 

She stands near the doorway, her usual confidence, that she’d been exuding during this whole process, nowhere to be found. Her shoulders were a little slumped, her eyes fixed on the floor, and her teeth sinking into her lower teeth. Emily looks down and her heart catches in her chest when she spots what Hazel is holding. Her favourite childhood toy, a stuffed cat she’d inexplicably called Biscuits when she was three, hanging from her hand. Biscuits had seen better days. His once plush grey fur patchy, and his whiskers long gone. When Hazel turned 14 she’d declared she was too old for stuffed animals, asking that they be put in the attic, but Biscuits had survived the cut. His place on her bed never at risk. She liked to pretend it wasn’t because she needed him to sleep even now, as if her parents hadn’t recently caught her fast asleep with him in her arms when they checked in on her when she had the flu. 

For a moment, an all too fleeting one, Hazel is five again. Standing in the doorway with her hair a mess and her pyjamas askew, tears on her cheeks as she cried about a nightmare. It makes Emily ache, her gut twisting with emotions she can’t name, and she sits up, removing herself from Aaron’s embrace.

“Are you okay, Haze?” Emily asks, “Do you need anything?” 

The teenager shakes her head, shifting from foot to foot as she tries to figure out what to say, “No I…I don’t know,” she says, blowing out a breath as she shrugs, “I can’t sleep.” 

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Aaron says, “It’s probably the excitement.” 

Hazel nods, holding Biscuits to her chest as she hugs him so tightly, Emily is sure if his eyes were real, not sewn on, they’d be bulging out of his head, “Yeah…excitement,” she says, swallowing thickly. She sighs and walks over to sit on the edge of her parent's bed, “What if I’m not good enough?” 

Emily reaches out and places her hand on her daughter’s leg, squeezing tightly, “Honey, you were top of your high school class, you got accepted to all of the colleges you applied to,” She smiles when she sees a flicker of a smile on Hazel’s face, “You’re more than good enough. You’re excellent.” 

She nods again and clears her throat, “What if I don’t make any friends?” 

Aaron exchanges a quick glance with his wife before smiling encouragingly at his daughter, “You make friends everywhere you go, Princess,” he says, using the nickname he hadn’t used since she was small, “Just like your mom.”

Hazel shrugs noncommittally, “But what if-”

“Baby,” Emily says, cutting her off, reaching out and tucking some of Hazel’s dark hair behind her ear, “Is it possible you’re just coming up with these things because you’re nervous and you don’t want to admit it?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head, “Profilers,” she smiles at them, biting the inside of her cheek to try and stop it from growing, “You know, my friend's parents had normal jobs.” 

Aaron chuckles, “So you’ve said before,” he says, watching as she holds the stuffed cat in her arms a little tighter, “Everything will be okay you know,” he adds, “It’s perfectly normal to be nervous.”

Hazel huffs out a breath and shifts closer to them, sitting between them on the bed, her back against the headboard as she looks back and forth between them. 

“But what if I hate it,” she asks, her voice starting to sound thick, her lower lip shaking slightly as she starts to get overwhelmed, “It’s so far away and you guys won’t be there and-”

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Emily says, wrapping her arm around her. Hazel leans into her, resting her head on her shoulder and sighing. Emily looks at Aaron and they exchange a sad smile, “It’s not that far away,” she says, her fingers running through Hazel’s hair as she repeats what she’d been saying to them for weeks, “And if you ever need anything at all, you know we’ll drop everything.”

Hazel nods, sniffing as she shifts to look at her mother, tears spilling past her lashline, “Can I…can I sleep in here?” She asks, almost sounding embarrassed.

Emily looks over her head to Aaron and she sees the same joy in his eyes that she feels. The same small sense of wonder at a question they hadn’t heard in years.

“Of course you can,” Emily replies, kissing Hazel’s forehead and pulling her in for a hug, “You never have to ask.” Hazel turns to look at Aaron, as if looking for confirmation and he nods, making her smile widely at him, a brief memory of her doing the same when she was little, gaps in her teeth and braids in her hair, and it makes him breathless. 

“Thanks,” Hazel says quietly, her cheeks flushing slightly as they all lay down and Aaron turns out the light. Hazel rests her head on Emily’s shoulder, tucking herself against her like she’d done when she was young. “I love you guys.” 

Emily feels her breath catch in her chest, and she feels Aaron reach out for her hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly. She looks at him in the dark of the room and smiles, clearing her throat before she replies.

“We love you too, sweetie.” 

Dropping her off the next day is every part as difficult as they expect it to be. Their hearts in their throats as they help her set up her dorm room and inevitably say goodbye, their hugs lingering a little longer than usual, her grip on their shirts a little tighter. 

Emily is proud of herself for holding it together until they get into their car, a sob escaping her the moment the door is closed. Aaron immediately wraps his arms around her, the embrace awkward over the centre console, and when they pull back, there are tears on his cheeks too. She wipes them away for him and tries to swallow down her sadness, desperately trying to feel the pride that was lingering underneath, aware that if she couldn’t find it soon she’d go back into the dorms and get her little girl. 

“She’ll be okay,” Emily says, wiping another tear that escapes away for him.

“I know,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her, the taste of salt on both of their lips, “She’s half you, of course she’ll be okay.” 

She smiles and stamps a kiss against his lips before pulling back, and putting on her seatbelt, “She’s half you too,” she replies, sinking into her seat as he turns on the engine, “She’ll be fine.” 

She hears her phone chirp from her pocket and she pulls it out, smiling when she sees Hazel has sent her a text. She chuckles as she opens it, her vision going blurry as she turns the phone to show it to Aaron. He smiles too and reaches out, squeezing her hand before he takes the car out of park.

“Let’s go home. I’m sure we can convince Luke and Vi to hang out with us tonight if we bribe them with pizza,” he says, and she nods, looking back at the screen of her phone as the car moves away, her eyes lingering on a picture of Buscuits on Hazel’s dorm room bed and the accompanying message. 

Miss you already <3 

___

13 Years Previously 

Emily wakes up with a groan, the relative darkness of the bedroom letting her know it was still the middle of the night. She’s just about to roll over, to snuggle into her husband’s embrace, his arm lying over her waist, when she hears a small, quiet voice. 

“Mommy?” 

She opens her eyes again and sees Hazel standing at the end of her bed, Biscuits cuddled up in her arms, and tears on her cheeks shining in the low light of the room. 

“Hi sweet girl,” Emily says, sitting up just enough to see her a little better, “Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?” 

Hazel sniffs and nods, “I had a bad dream.” 

“Oh, baby, come here,” Emily says, throwing back the covers and smiling softly as Hazel immediately climbs under them, snuggling into Emily’s embrace, her face pressed against her chest, “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

“I tried to be brave,” Hazel says, “I’m not a baby anymore, but I was scared.” 

Emily hides her smile into the top of Hazel’s hair, the little girl's insistence that she wasn’t a baby anymore something that had taken hold as soon as the twins had been born almost a year ago. She briefly looks at the baby monitor on her nightstand, reaching out to activate the screen for a moment so she can see the video feeds, smiling at the sight of Violet and Lucas fast asleep in their cribs. 

“Well that’s what I’m here for,” she says, adjusting them so they were laying on their sides, Hazel safely cocooned between her and Aaron, “Anytime you don’t feel brave, I’m here.” 

Hazel frowns, looking so much like Aaron that it makes Emily smile, “But I’m a big girl.” 

“I know you are,” Emily replies, still running her fingers through Hazel’s hair, “But, I’m a big girl too right?” She asks, pausing to feel her daughter nod against her, “Well, I’m not brave all the time.”

“Really?” Hazel asks, tilting her head to look up at Emily, their eyes meeting in the low light. 

“Really,” she confirms, “And then Daddy looks after me, and I do the same for him when he’s not feeling brave.”

Hazel looks curious for a moment, but nods, accepting Emily’s explanation, resting her head back against her chest, “Can I sleep here?” 

Emily holds her closer, smiling as Hazel settles in, clearly already halfway to being asleep, and runs her hand up and down her back, “Of course, baby,” she says, kissing the top of her head, “Always.” 

“Je t'aime maman,” Hazel mutters, her words slurring together, and Emily closes her eyes, pushing back tears only her children managed to bring out of her so easily.

“Je t'aime aussi mon coeur,” she whispers, aware that the little girl was likely already sleeping. 

“Is she okay?” 

Emily smiles at the sound of her husband's voice, thick with sleep and misuse, “Yeah, she’s okay,” she replies, yawning as Aaron wraps his arm around them both, “She’s fine now.” 

“Of course, she is sweetheart,” Aaron says, his words slurring together in a way that makes her question if he would even remember having been awake in the morning, “She has you as a mom.” 

The praise makes her beam, her heart as warm and full as their bed currently was, and she lets herself naively hope that everything stays like this forever. 

-x-

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[empressofmankind]

Challenge - What'd They Shit Buy To Heckle Their Better Half

I was bored and low on creative juice today, so I did one of my other favourite things and that is hanging around stores pretending to be out shopping for, or with, one of the permanent renters living inside my head.

And then I thought, maybe that'd be a fun challenge? It's kind of like a moodboard, but for the funnies. A heckleboard??

Step 1: Go to one of those general stores that has a little bit of everything (or go to multiple stores if you like, I do, but I live in a walkable city centre). Step 2: Think of one of your current favourite ships. Step 3: Pretend to be one of the ship's characters Steps 4: Photograph 5 items they would shit buy to heckle their better half Step 5: Post it and tag me! And tag new peeps!

Here's mine, for Croc 🐊 x Shivs 🗡. And it's Shivs dropping these items on his credit card statement for shits and giggles.

She'd absolutely wear that hat, doesn't matter it's > 25C in Arabasta. Style over comfort, and all that.

Also, I literally wheezed at the pistol-shaped hair comb. I am pretty sure he always has a comb on him? And I can see her give him that, because lol. Wouldn't you? I would. I'd happily die for it too. I wonder if he'd secretly like it, haha. It does market to a certain demographic.

They're nice, and it's the bait to throw him off of completely losing his shit over the rest of the absolutely shit-faced purchases.

She bought that game because she wants to beat his ass at it? They'd go so gdamn hard playing that. Don't play monopoly with them either. Guns come out.

And baby Benji always needs new toys. That's not even up for discussion. He'd be fine with this one, I think.

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[thelunarfairy]

Hi, I had three questions about Teru's behavior in the last chapter. 1) Doesn't he act uncharacteristically naive, reckless and even childish? He is the one who talked about the school mysterie like gods. Why would he trespass into the realm of the gods and consider himself,an exorcist, welcome there? He isn't curious at all about the message that the watch keepers sent to Akane in this critical situation and he doesn't even notice the obvious change in Akane's face. 2) Why would Teru think Akane has the authority to make him their ally without consulting other watch keepers? Not only he is just a kid tricked into being the watch keeper, he's also their weakest and only half supernatural. Why would they listen to him? (I mean, from Teru's POV) 3) Why wouldn't the fact that Kou attacked him because of hanako make him pessimistic and destroy his trust in others? He's like, "oh my blood brother drew a sword on me because of a supernatural. It means I can trust a half-supernatural to have my back! I can even trust full supernaturals to be my ally! Hooray!" Thank you for your time and sorry for troubling you.

Teru is a character conveniently written to be useful at specific times.

What I mean?

Have you ever noticed that he threatens a lot, that he really fights against Hanako and other supernaturals, but he never actually "finishes" the job?

Since the beginning of the story Teru has been disturbing saying that Hanako is a spirit he wants to eliminate, he threatens, he fights against him, but he never finishes the job.

In arc number six, we saw that he was very angry to the point of threatening to kill Nene, but after everything was over and they returned to the world of the living, he simply left Hanako there. He didn't go after the ghost to finish what he started on the far shore.

Teru is that type of character. In the last chapter, he, Teru, the relentless one, who managed to notice Kokujoudai on Akane, "simply" let Hanako get away.

Does it make sense to you?

So everything you said is strange because these attitudes are out of character for Teru, isn't he the incredible exorcist? The one who is ruthless and so easily destroys all types of supernatural? What reckless attitudes are these?

Not just his, but Tsukasa's as well. Tsukasa just went to the boundary without imagining the guardians would show up? Couldn't he have just pushed the bottom of the cage, as HE HIMSELF suggested to Nene, to free himself? Couldn't he jump from one cage to another to save himself like Hanako did?

Yes, Tsukasa was weak because of the stamp and the handcuffs, but Nene was ALSO under the influence of the stamp and the handcuffs.

Teru and Tsukasa are out of character in this arc, perhaps to make things work more easily for the other characters, the well-known "script convenience" when the author creates facilities for the characters or plot so that the story moves faster.

Or there is something behind it.

Maybe Teru allowed himself to go through this to discover something forward, could it be? He seems to know a lot, he even asked Akane to listen to Kou when he needed it. Why did he say that? Does he know anything that will happen in the future? Why will he be judged by number one? Did he mess with the timeline?

Sometimes it makes us understand this, that Teru knows a lot of things and that he pretends to be someone he is not, that sometimes he allows himself to fail on purpose for some reason that we don't know. He does a lot of threatening things as if he wants to maintain control over everything, but he allows himself to fall into situations like these.

We will only know in the future, there is still this doubt between the two possibilities, is Teru being careless on purpose or is it the convenience of the script?

Oh, you don't need to apologize haha thanks for the ask!