#and despite her protests she gets up on her own from the couch; he doesn't have to tug her up

[darkpoisonouslove]

She just learned today who stole her baby. Let her process, goddammit!

[ghoularaki]

tw: coercion, noncon, drugging, infantilization, subtle misogyny

gojo doesn't understand you.

all the years you were acquaintances, he simply couldn't wrap his head around your behavior. he couldn't tell if you were scared or just a prude. like come on, how are you both in your twenties and still claimed to not have any want to have sex?

don't get gojo wrong, he thought you were pretty, pretty enough to grab his attention. gojo could have any woman but for some reason you tugged at and occupied his brain. he deduced it was simply because you were still a virgin despite you only being a couple years younger than him.

this wasn't hidden knowledge as you were very upfront about it. for someone with an aversion for sex, you sure talked about it a lot. this is why gojo couldn't get you. shouldn't people like you be more bashful and shy around topics like that?

the way you would giggle at dirty jokes or even making your own more raunchy than what he said almost made him wince. the fantasy of you being completely and utterly clueless, and at gojo's whim was frequently shattered. he couldn't stand how you talked such big game for someone who's never had their cherry popped.

from across the table, gojo watched you from over the rim of his drink. your own clasped in your hand, you collapsed into utahime after she said something surely not as funny as you were making it seem. you sure were a light-weight.

tapping his finger against the glass, gojo decided to step in.

"alright ladies, i think it's time i take this one," he had a lopsided grin on his face as he pointed a thumb at your inebriated state.

"but gojo, we just started," you pouted up at him, still clinging to utahime.

easily he pries you from the other woman's form and you instead latch onto him. utahime tells you to text her when you're home safe, and you wave her off.

"i'm in the hands of the strongest," you fake swoon. "i'm sure i will be fine."

gojo smirks, but not for the reason you think.

surprisingly, it was not hard at all to get you to come back to his apartment. sure it's not the first time you've been there, but typically you were accompanied by others. you were with that sloshed or a little too trusting of him. either way, it benefitted him in the end.

"let's set you on the couch," gojo maneuvers you so you were strewn across the cushions, head rested on the arm.

still drunk, you paid no mind to gojo going off into the kitchen. humming to himself, he pours you a cup of juice and reaches into his pocket. he has been waiting to do this for a long time. unbeknownst to you, the sorcerer slipped a little surprise into your drink.

"sit up and drink this," he came over and loomed over you.

too out of it question him, you happily sit up and take the cup from him. you gulp it all down and hum at the sweetness.

sure you drank it all, gojo sits next you, pulling your legs over his lap. idly he brushed his long fingers over your exposed shins. you didn't question it as gojo was always a very touchy person. plus the motions were lulling you to sleep.

then it started. heat washed over your body like a fever. a deep ache in your core from out of nowhere. squirming, you whined as gojo touching you didn't help your prediciment.

"what's wrong?"

"i'm hot," you slurred.

"it must be the alcohol, lets get you to bed so you're more comfortable."

unable to protest, gojo picks you up in a bridal carry with no struggle. your head resting on his chest offered you no solace, only making you whine more.

never in your life have you felt this... horny, to be blunt. especially over someone like gojo. sure, he was beautiful, but he was your friend. even in your lonesome, you never got this aroused. you were confused and the liquor in your system just made things all the more fuzzy.

pathetically, you whine as gojo rested you on top of his bedding. he doesn't depart from you, if anything he surrounds you more. gojo sat by your hips with his torso twisted to have his arms bracket your head.

"aww what's wrong?" he pouts with concern. but his tone feels so condescending.

unable to resist, you rubbed your thighs together in hopes to relieve the ache. brows twisted, you looked up at gojo who at some point forgone his glasses.

this is exactly what gojo had been imagining for years. you, under him, dewy-eyes and helpless. his eyes couldn't stay in one place, going from how you bite your lip to stifle your noises or how your legs rubbed together for even the tiniest bit of pleasure.

"does the little baby need help?" he knew he was laying it on thick, but he couldn't help but mock you.

you acted so tough, like you didn't need to get fucked, like you didn't need him. and yet, here you are, grasping at him for any resolve.

"please," you whimpered, tears brimming your eyes. at this point it hurt and you wanted it to be gone.

gojo smiled wide. in no time he had both you and him stripped down bare. fuck, you were cuter than he expected. kneeling between your legs, he had a hand under your knee, forcing it up to your chest. on display was your pulsing pussy and puffy clit.

thanks to the drug you were already wet enough for him. but he couldn't help but be a tease. his free hand danced from your slit up to your clit and back down, dipping to the rim of your asshole.

"you're so out of it, you would let me play here with no questions asked."

with the slick gathered and dripping down from your hole, he slathered it all over the puckered muscles.

"but then your poor pussy would be neglected. another time then."

long fingers went back up to your pussy and slid into the unbreeched hole. your back arched at finally being filled. after what felt like hours, you sucked in his fingers, relieved. there was no pain as his thrust in and out at a leisure pace.

your brain was completely wiped clean. all you cared about was getting rid of the empty feeling in your core.

hips bucking, you chased his fingers, wanting him to hit that spongy spot inside you. gojo couldn't have been more elated. he was rendering the prudish you into a slutty, desperate mess.

cock drooling with precum, he decide to get to the main event.

actual tears cascaded down your face as you sobbed from him pulling his fingers from your cunny. gojo shushed you and tapped his cockhead against your neglected clit.

"don't worry pretty girl, i'm going to fill you up nice and full."

dumbly nodding, your gaze never left gojo as he forced his way in. a gasp caught in your chest as his thick head popped inside the ring of muscles. your cunt instantly clenched around the large, foreign object. gojo collapsed onto his elbow from your warm walls beckoning him in further.

not caring if he's causing you any pain, he bullied his way in further until his pelvic bone hit your clit. looking down, he saw his cock causing a small bulge in your belly. gojo couldn't help but laugh. how many other men were going to be able to fill you to the brim and more like he did? how nice of him to show you how it is to be properly fucked.

resting more of his weight on you, he swung his hips to fuck in and out of you in tandem. you were going to take every inch no matter if it hurt or not. the drug and alcohol made you so sloppy all you did was moan and whine. your eyes blearily looked at him, but he could tell you had no clue what you were actually seeing.

"did i fuck you stupid, already?" he groaned.

again you nodded and wrapped your arms further around his broad shoulders. gojo bent down to put his face in your neck, biting along the column of your throat.

"c-close."

he laughed again the skin. his hot breath made your spine tingle. "really?"

"yes!" you cried when he angled his hips to repeatedly abuse your g-spot.

your neglected clit begged for attention. you just wanted to cum. squirming against gojo, you tried to get him to brush against it in anyway possible. desperate you pleaded, "t-touch me."

"i am touching you."

you vehemently shake your head, "please! touch my clit, i n-need it. please, satoru, please!"

your babbles had gojo lose his rhythm. you never called him by his first name and hearing it with your broken voice did things to him. you were going to be the death of him.

listening to your pleas, gojo slid his hand down to rest on your thigh to swirl and twiddle your clit. as your walls spasmed around him, his thrust got more sloppy and untimed. unable to stop himself, he gave a few more thrusts and then smooshed his hips firm to yours as he came deep into your cunt. moaning at the warmth filling you, you came around him.

gojo with no shame, moaned just as loud. the tone breathy and deep. at the end, his voice hitched as you continued to clench around him, sucking him dry. with a couple more weak thrusts, gojo pulled out from you.

you whined at being empty and also the cooling cum dribbled out your raw cunny. despite being thoroughly fucked you still felt achy. as gojo departed from you, things become a little more clear.

"finally coming down to earth?" the man asked, approaching the bed with a warm cloth.

tears bubbled up again, but for a different reason.

seeing your distraught face, gojo pouted, "aww you poor thing. don't worry, we have all the time in the world for you to realize how big of a favor i'm doing you. ya know, since you aren't leaving anytime soon."

[thelampisaflashlight]

To Take Care

[Dew being soft. That's it, that's the whole fic.] Below the cut.

Dew settles into one of the plush, leather armchairs in the ghouls' common room, the one that sags a little when anyone sits in it, the springs so pressed down they awkwardly cradle his form instead of pressing back.

The bump of his head against the backrest elicits a groan, from the chair or his own mouth, no one could tell, even Dew himself, and he's certain he felt the air pass through his lips.

He's the kind of tired that leaves his whole body feeling like a heavy, immovable lump, and, in spite of that, he's carried himself quite well up until this point.

Mountain calls it a "boots off" situation; When you sit down, suddenly you don't have the energy to get back up.

Any and all motivation is gone.

Boots off.

Left by the door.

Not going back on.

...Barring an emergency of course.

With a long, deep sigh, Dew feels himself sink deeper into the thinning material, eyes half shut as he uses a fragment of his willpower to turn his arm over to examine a stray thread between his finger tips.

He could sleep like this.

He really could.

But he fights it, biting back a yawn as he surveys the room.

The new kids are asleep; Aeon on the couch, his lithe body stretched selfishly across the entire thing, while Aurora is tucked into a ball on the loveseat, pressed so tightly against the upholstery Dew knows it'll leave a mark on her face.

Despite the protests of his knees, Dew stands, stretching slightly, before popping the top off of a nearby ottoman and pulling out a couple of neatly folded knit blankets from inside.

He takes a moment to knead the material, remembering when Cumulus had asked him to come along with her to pick out the yarn she was going to use to make it.

"You'll probably use it the most, so you should decide." she'd said, and she wasn't wrong.

Back then, he had only recently transitioned from water to fire, and his body had decided that anything short of an oven wasn't warm enough for him anymore; Essentially, with everything being comparatively cooler than him, he got chilly quite easy.

How and why that was -and still is- the case, even Dew isn't sure, but having a blanket or two ready and available was always a good thing, and the fact that it was handmade made it even better.

He sniffs the fabric and hums softly.

Even after years of use and several trips through the wash, it still smells a bit like Cumulus' perfume.

The other blanket is a heavy thing, bought on tour years ago from some chain store in America when they'd needed to scavenge some extra supplies for the bus.

It's an unfortunate bedpan pink, it's big and can be folded to add a little extra weight across your body.

He weighs the two blankets in his arms before setting about covering the two sleeping ghouls.

Aurora snuggles easily into the fluffy white knit of the blanket Cumulus made, her lips turning upwards in her sleep, but doesn't wake.

Aeon, however, blinks up at Dew, purple eyes peaking through his lashes as the watches the older ghoul layer the blanket over him.

He doesn't say anything at first, letting Dew tuck him in, but mumbles his thanks when the other is done.

"Go back to sleep." is all Dew says in return, returning to his chair.

Now.

Now he can sleep.

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

Demisexual!Jake Seresin x Reader headcanons

Saw this post where people were being little piss babies that Jake Seresin can't possibly be aspec. So *cracks knuckles* since people can't seem to stay in their own fucking lane, I'm gonna be That Bitch and write some aggressively positive demisexual headcanons for our favorite flyboy.

(Tagging my aspec!Jake partner in crime: @gonnabreakhisheart)

Jake is an outrageous flirt. But he doesn't mean 99% of the things that come out of his mouth. He's just blowing smoke and hot air, talking smack.

When someone flirts back, he cranks it up to 110%. But when it comes time to follow through, oh hell no, Jake aborts so fast and hightails it out of there.

Despite what other people accuse him of, Jake has had only two one night stands, and no one ever believes him when he says that so he stopped trying to convince them.

The first time, he was young and reckless, running on the adrenaline high of getting into flight school. His classmates pressured him into it, too, insisting that he was a man now and he needed to prove himself.

It was not a good night and the girl left him in the morning without saying anything, which made him feel like shit.

The second time, Jake had watched one of his pilot buddies die in flight training and it messed him up really bad. He had no one to lean on because he'd learned not to show emotion in the military.

So he ended up at a bar, trying to drown his feelings, and somehow found himself deep in conversation with this woman. She'd lost her boyfriend in a car accident a year ago so she understood what it was like to deal with grief.

They spent most of the night talking and finding comfort in each other.

But they both agreed to part ways in the morning. They still text occasionally and check in on each other now and then.

Jake's reputation as a playboy is purely hearsay and mostly fueled by the jealousy and insecurity of other men. But he gave up trying to deny the rumors a long time ago. His protests seemed to only dig his grave deeper.

So in true Hangman fashion, Jake uses his reputation as a shield. Only the people who will truly stick around for the long haul get a glimpse underneath his armor.

Jake actually takes FOREVER before he decides that he likes you. Being a pilot demands a lot of his time which he knows can be very taxing on a relationship and he's upfront about that right from the start.

He's had a lot of people come and go in his life, and he's careful about getting emotionally invested too early.

You and Jake were friends for years, and he was fiercely protective of you.

Trying to get a guy's number at a bar? GOOD LUCK Jake is gonna be hovering at your shoulder, poking his nose into your business and making sure your potential date knew that you had a curfew, home by 10pm. Or else.

You relentlessly dropped hints that HE could ask you out, which you'd been hoping might happen for...an embarrassingly long time. But he never got the hint.

So YOU finally ask him out, which he tries to laugh off with a joke because you can't possibly be serious. Until he realizes you're not kidding and he finds that it's surprisingly easy to say yes to you.

At the beginning of the relationship, Jake doesn't know what to do with himself. He's on the verge of bolting because this is too good to be true.

About the six month mark, Jake settles down and he starts looking at you in a new light. You fell asleep on his couch, comfortable and safe in his presence while watching television and something in his heart tugs.

In the morning, when he sees you in the kitchen with your messy bedhead as you poured yourself some cereal, wearing the oversized pajamas you'd borrowed from him last night...oh my god, that's the hot button. That's when Jake realizes he found something truly special and he's going to fight for it.

He gets a dog tag engraved with your name and wears it all the time alongside his military dog tags.

He has a picture of you in the cockpit of his airplane. Before every flight, he kisses his fingertips and touches the picture as a good luck charm so he makes sure that he comes home to you.

Honestly, instead of sex, Jake prefers weird 3am chats with you where he can make you laugh until you're gasping for breath.

Jake loves taking a bath with you, especially when you slip into the tub behind him and wash his hair. The first time you did it, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. No one had ever done that for him before.

He has zero ability to stay mad with you after a fight. He leaves to cool off and then comes back with this kicked puppy-dog look on his face. He takes your hand, kisses your knuckles.

"I hate fighting with you, baby," he whispers.

"Well, if you would just admit I'm right, we wouldn't have to fight."

He can tell you're teasing and you end up hugging each other really hard for several long minutes because you both know just how lucky you are and you don't want a stupid fight to come between you.

Sexy headcanons below the cut (18+ only)

Jake actually doesn't like quickies. They're never satisfying and they're always over too fast.

Cuddlefucking drives him batshit crazy. There's something about how time seems to slow down with the lazy touches, sleep-warm skin, the kisses that feel more like a dream than a reality.

He's actually very worried about hurting you. He's heard some terrible stories from guys in the military who clearly don't like their girlfriends, and he would never dream of treating you like that.

So if you want something more intense, Jake will require an in-depth conversation with clear guidelines and a lot of reassurance that this is what you want.

For that reason, Jake is very uncomfortable with hate sex. It doesn't make any sense to him. He doesn't hate you and he doesn't want to bring that vibe into your relationship.

Jake really looks forward to aftercare. He takes note of everything you liked for future reference.

He loves to absolutely worship your body. Massaging that kink out of your shoulder. Stroking the washcloth over your chest and back in the shower. Propping your leg in his lap as he rubs lotion into your skin.

Jake doesn't care how much shit people give him for saying it but he LOVES missionary. He wants to look you in the eyes. He wants to guide your leg around his hips. It's a classic for a reason.

One time, the two of you decided to get adventurous and try a new position. It was complicated as hell and you fumbled around so much that you ended up collapsed together, Jake's face beet red from laughing so hard.

You didn't actually have sex that night. But you fell asleep in each other's arms without a stitch of clothing between you, and then you had leftover pizza for breakfast, which felt just as good.

Jake is a MONSTER when it comes to non-sexual intimacy. He soaks up every drop like a dying man in the desert.

Sitting on the couch watching tv? He's going to tuck his head into your lap and coax your fingers into his hair.

Brushing your teeth? He'll slide his arms around you from behind and nuzzle into your neck.

Out to dinner with his buddies? He has a hand resting on your thigh.

When you're walking side by side, if you don't hold his hand, Jake will take your hand and tuck it into the crook of his elbow. Every single time. And he gives you this look like, this is your spot, don't you know that by now???

When it's cold, he wraps his hand around yours and tucks it into his coat pocket to keep you both warm.

Masterlist

[dollygirl808]

A Dead Man's Home

Childhood best friend! Simon "Ghost" Riley x Nurse!OC Ava

(Emotional, hurt/comfort, injury, breaking and entering, angst? Romance? Kinda.)

While this story is SFW, please be respectful and know that my blog as a whole is not, and is 18+ only. It's also possible that if I make this a series it'll contain smut. Thanks!

Big Masterlist

Ava gasped, falling back into the door she just closed as she saw him- just sitting there, apparently napping. Naturally, she screamed.

The man startled awake, a gun appearing in his hands as he shot up straight and pointed the gun at her, pretty blue eyes meeting hers. And then he relaxed, dropped the gun which bounced off the cushion and skittered under her coffee table. The masked man leaned back on her couch, hissing under his breath and pressing his hand into his side, which was currently bleeding through his black shirt.

There was a nice black leather jacket thrown over her dining chair, and a pair of heavy black combat boots that she almost tripped over.

"What're ya screaming for?" He asked, grimacing when speaking agitated his injuries. "Jus' me, love," He told her like it was obvious, thick British accent making her head reel. First his eyes- so familiar yet so different. Then his voice.

"W-what?" She took a stuttering breath, feeling her knees grow weak as she stared at the man currently bleeding out on her couch.

Then, slowly so as to not cause too much pain, he lifted his hand and peeled away the torn, bloodsoaked balaclava and revealed his face. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Si.." The tears welled up immediately, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as her voice trailed off. She felt rooted to the spot, unable to take a single step closer. His face is plenty recognizable in the dark of her apartment anyways, and there was a little light peering through the closed curtains.

Whatever face she's making must be ugly, twisted in disbelief and heartbreak and relief all rolled into one- she's always been an ugly crier, he told her so plenty of times. She must look so silly right now because he chuckled, low and deep, although the movement makes him grunt in pain again.

"Hey love," Simon rasped, chest rising with every heavy breath.

"Si... S-simon?" She asked, voice breaking off into a near silent whisper, the tears already gathering at her hand pressed to her face.

"Yeah. 'S me love,'' He told her, and that's all it took.

Ava burst into sobs, crumbling right there in her spot by the door to her knees, both hands pressed tight to muffle her opened-mouth wailing.

"Shit-" Simon cursed out, forcing himself to his feet and limping over to her. He kneeled in front of her, bruised and gloved hand hesitating before softly touching her hair like she was a wounded animal, as fragile as porcelain under his blood stained palm.

The single featherlight touch is all it took for her to throw herself at him, falling into his chest as she took them both to the ground despite his groaned protest of pain, crying into his blood-soaked shirt and clenching the fabric between his fingers like he might disappear again.

This isn't exactly what Simon expected when he came here, half delirious from blood loss, clumsily prying open her window out in the open where anyone could see. Really, she should get a security system, it was way too easy to break into her house. But that could be talked about later, after they've both calmed down and had some time to talk.

He could feel his own emotions swell, his nose and eyes burn. But he doesn't cry, no- he's far too gone for that, committed too many crimes, killed too many people. A single tear is all he allowed himself, pressing his cheek to the top of her ginger curls, letting the single droplet soak into her hair. He knows she felt it, too, but she doesn't say anything.

She's too busy cursing at him and hitting his chest and arms, and crying into his shirt and clinging to him, but she knows.

Ava sat up, half straddled over his waist from where she tackled him, cute puffy cheeks all angry and pouty as she glared down at him through teary eyes, and she slapped him. Hard, right across his face.

"You- you fucking asshole!" She sobbed, using the sleeve of her blue nurse's scrub to wipe at her teary face, but even as she tried to stop the waterworks they just kept coming.

Simon grabbed her wrists when she started pressing the heel of her palm into her eyes, pulling her hands away from her face with just one of his. His thick, scarred thumb swiped away a tear on her cheek, looking up at her with such longing as he did it. And she can't help but smile, lean into his touch as disbelieving little giggles bubbled out of her.

"I know. M' sorry Ava," He told her, voice reverent as he looked up at her as a thing to be cherished, treasured. And she was, to him. The closest thing to family he had was right here, in his arms.

"Don't Ava me!" She snapped at him, hitting at his thick muscled chest, and he let her, although it lacked any real venom or aggression. "You died! You left-!" The tears welled up again, and she hiccuped out another sob, cutting herself off.

"You left me, Si," She whimpered out, bottom lip quivering as she blinked at him through tears, fingers clenched into his black shirt again.

He swallowed thickly, barely able to meet her gaze, "I know.. 'M really sorry love." He wiped at the fresh salty tears on her face then rubbed his thumb against her cheek, and it didn't take long for her to melt into his touch again, un-clenching her hands and resting them against his middle just where his shirt was bunched up around her thick thighs.

"I missed you, so much Si- you have no idea."

"Missed you too, love," He breathed out.

Ava went to scrub at her face again with her sleeve, only to see blood on her scrubs that wasn't there before. She stared at it, blinked, then blinked again as if it would go away.

"....You're bleeding," She stated, chocolate eyes shifting from her bloodied sleeve to his face.

"Yea," He nodded once, concise, just agreeing with her statement.

They stared at each other for a moment, both silent for different reasons, Simon because he didn't have anything else to say, and Ava because she was praying for the strength not to kill him a second time and wring his neck.

She settled for smacking the side of his head before scrambling off of him, rushing to her bathroom for her first aid kit.

"Ow- what was that for?" He huffed, sitting up and dragging himself to leave back against the couch, not having the energy to stand up again.

He flinched from the bright light when she flicked on her living room switch, "For letting me squish you under me while you bled out, you moron!" She scolded him, dropping to her knees once again, this time with a white box that had the medical symbol on it.

She slapped away his hands with a click of her tongue as he tried to lift his shirt up, then pressed a thick pill into his palm and handed him her water bottle as she lifted his torn shirt for him, gingerly unwrapping his hastily-done bandaging.

"What'dya do that for anyways?" She glanced up at him as she tore open a disinfectant wipe, just to be safe. As he was about to speak she pressed it to his wounds, making him hiss out in pain. It brought a small little smile to her face.

"Little sadist," He sighed fondly, "Did it cause I missed you," He smiled softly at her despite her sadistic little revenge, eyelids all droopy as he leaned his head back against the couch cushion.

It made her heart skip a beat again, her breath stutter as she prepared her suture needle and thread. "What're you looking at me like that for?" She huffed out, tucking her chin to her chest as she stared pointedly at his wound instead of him.

"Like what love?" He asked, tilting his head to the side to look at her more.

"Like you're about to bleed out, that's what you big brute." She fished out her phone from her pocket, tossing it at him.

"You'd never let me bleed out love," He teased with a charming smile, somehow still managing to be stupidly attractive even with blood splattered on his face. He caught her phone easily, and raised an eyebrow at her in the form of a question.

"Use the flash, can't see shit on the floor," She told him, and set her emergency kit on between his legs as she half laid over his lap and half on the floor to get a better angle.

"Don't know yer code, love," He turned the phone to face her so she could unlock it.

"It's the date you told me you were joining the military." He hummed, barely noticeable pause before turning it back to face him as he put the date in- he remembered of course, the first time he broke her heart, when he said he'd be gone for months on end, only coming back every once in a while.

So, she spent the next hour properly patching him up, plucking him in the thigh or stomach whenever he let the light move. There were only two wounds that needed to be stitched, one gnarly jagged tear across his side that she couldn't even make a guess as to where it came from, and the other on his thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery.

The rest of his wounds are mostly big, ugly bruises that must hurt like a bitch, and possibly a few broken ribs. When she tried to make him go to the hospital he put his foot down and refused.

"Simon," Ava sighed out, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I just don't understand, you could be seriously hurt, I'm not a doctor, I can't diagnose you," She told him, exasperated.

He sighed as well, blinking slowly at her. "Love- I'm dead. Y'remember that, don't ya?" He asked, poking his thick finger at the dog tags around her neck, the ones with his name on it, "Can't go to the hospital. They'll find my death certificate and it'll cause trouble."

Her face softened into a mournful little smile, the stinging of oncoming tears making her lip quiver again at the memory. It nearly made the corner of his lips quirk up in a smile, that was a trait from their childhood that he missed seeing. She always looked so cute like that, cheeks all puffed out, nose red with her bottom lip in a pout.

"I just... don't want you to die on me again, Si," She murmured, curling her legs under her as she scooted closer to him on the couch.

"You won't love, promise," He vowed to her, his expression almost adoring as he stroked his thumb over her cheekbone, then his hand fell down to her neck and slid into the hairs at the back of her neck.

"C'mere," Simon pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face in one of his old shirts, the gray fabric stretched thinly over his thick muscled form, barely fitting him anymore.

When she handed it to him with a defiant blush, she threatened to kick him in the ribs if he ruined her favorite sleeping shirt. He huffed a laugh into her hair at the memory, and she nuzzled closer, burying her nose into his scent. Even if it was tainted by bloodshed and gunpowder, it was still him underneath it all. Her Simon.

---

Ava felt herself drifting off, when suddenly her world shifted as Simon hauled her up into his arms bridal style, making her squeak at him indignantly to be put down.

"I just stitched you up, you stray mutt!" She hissed at him, heat rising to her cheeks, "I'm too heavy and you're too injured to be carrying me Si!"

"Yer not," He rolled his eyes like what she said was a ridiculous, unfounded rumor with no truth to it, a smirk tilting the corner of his mouth, "Now where's yer bedroom?"

A furious blush spread across her face, "Put me down!" She wriggled like a worm on a hook to get out of his grasp, but despite having to limp from his injury and likely having a few broken ribs, he didn't so much as falter in his hold on her. In fact, he completely ignored her as he began limping down a hallway in search of his current objective.

"Stop squirmin'. Won't help you," He chuckled, amused as he opened a door, found it to be a bathroom and kept looking.

Ava whined, pushing her face into his shoulder, "This is humiliating Si," She mumbled.

"Love, 'S just us. Now are ya gunna hide or help me?" He prompted, tilting his head to look down at her with his pretty blue eyes.

She pouted, and refused to look at him as she pointed to the slightly ajar door of her bedroom. The man just hummed in acknowledgment and limped his way over, pushing open the door as they shuffled through, and he sat with her in his arms still.

When she squirmed and complained, he graciously allowed her to sit on his lap instead. "D'ya work tomorrow?"

She shook her head, "No, thankfully. I have the weekend off."

"Good," He sighed out, and promptly fell back onto the bed. "Let's sleep in tomorrow."

She had gotten changed into a t-shirt and shorts earlier when she let him borrow- or have, his old shirt back. And he was just wearing that and the boxers he wore when he came in, his pants being ripped and blood-soaked. As well as uncomfortable for sleeping in.

She crawled off of him, careful not to put any pressure on his wounds, and laid down as she usually would, covered pulled up to her chin.

"I never consented to you sleeping in my bed," She told him.

Simon cracked an eye open, looking over at her, "Want me to sleep on the couch, love?"

Ava pursed her lips, glancing away before looking back at him, "No," She admitted, voice quiet. He hummed again. He did that a lot, actually.

"You can cuddle with me.. I guess."

He smiled, "Thanks love."

It took him a few more minutes to move again, thoroughly exhausted, but eventually he dragged himself next to her under the covers, his least injured arm tucked under her head with his other wrapped around her soft stomach from behind, pulling her into his chest with only a small squeak of protest.

He pressed his nose into the nape of her neck, taking a deep breath filled with her smell, forehead pressed against her curls up in a bun. "Missed you," He mumbled against her neck, voice filled with warmth and pure adoration. Her breath hitched.

"I- missed you too," She told him back shakily. It was hard to keep her composure when he used that tone with her, so raw and exalting, hot against her skin.

"G'night love," Simon whispered into her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin there.

She breathed deeply, closing her eyes, trying to will her heartbeat to slow down, "Goodnight Simon.”

---

Thee end, that's all for now. Idk if ill write more because I wasn't supposed to start any new series bc I have too many in a cod fandom alone (7 now if you include this one) but you can have it and enjoy!

Taglist: @cringeycookies

[cicimunson]

Sweet Child of Mine Part 2

Series Summary: You’re Eddie’s former best best friend. The two of you drifted apart freshman year of high school and now you’re more enemies than anything else. Despite the hostility between the two of you, you still come around to help out with his eleven-month-old sister, Emma, who he and Wayne keep most of the time due to his father being in jail and his mother being an addict.

Chapter Summary: Your boyfriend is trying to get you back, but after he cheated, you aren't willing to give him another chance. He doesn't like the fact that you spend time with Eddie, but Eddie doesn't take any shit off him. Emma is still not feeling well, so you and Eddie take her to the doctor and get some rough news. You and Eddie reach a compromise, but how long will it last?

Warnings: sick child, doctor visit, mentions of blood and needles, Eddie is upset, Eddie is kinda a dick, you and Eddie argue.

Word Count: 2.3k+

Part 1|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6

"Hey, where were you yesterday? I stopped by your place to see if you wanted to come to a movie with us, but your mom said you were out."

You look up from your book. Greg is standing over you with a scowl on his face.

"Don't tell me you were at Eddie's."

You sigh. "I help out with the baby, you know that. His uncle pays me."

"You should find another job. Besides, you spend the money buying stuff for the kid. It's like you don't make anything." He flops down beside you, tugging your book from your hands. 

"And if we were still together, I might listen to your advice. But we aren't, so you can mind your own business."

"Come on, don't be like that. Haven't I been punished long enough? I miss you."

"This isn't a time-out or a grounding, Greg. You kissed another girl. I'm not getting past that."

Greg raises his voice and you flinch. "I was drunk. It meant nothing! If you'll just give me-"

"Hey, we cool over here?" Eddie slides into a seat across the table.

You can't hide the gratitude on your face. The last thing you wanted was another screaming match with Greg in front of half the school.

Greg sneers at him. "We're great, freak. Can we help you with something?"

Eddie ignores him. "Emma still isn't sleeping well. And she's getting a cough. I'm gonna ditch last period to take her to Dr. Stevens."

"I'll come with you."

You expect Eddie to protest, but to your surprise, he nods. 

"We have a quiz last period." Greg points out.

"I'll schedule a make-up."

He shakes his head. "Now you're ditching class to help out with some kid that isn't even related to you?"

Eddie slams a hand on the table, his eyes darkening. "Don't talk about my sister."

Greg scowls. "I didn't say anything bad."

"Yet." Eddie snaps.

You stand up and tug Greg to his feet. "Enough, both of you. Greg, go sit with your friends. Eddie, I'll meet you at your van this afternoon."

Greg looks furious as he stomps across the cafeteria to his buddies. You know he's talking shit from the way they all look over at you and Eddie.

Eddie stands up. "Don't bother coming. I'm sure you'd rather spend time with your boyfriend."

"We broke up. And I am definitely coming. If you leave without me I'll just show up at the trailer and kick your ass."

Eddie tries to suppress a smile and fails. "Whatever. We both know you can't fight worth a damn."

The bell rings and you walk to the cafeteria doors together.

"Don't be late." He warns.

"I won't."

__________

You can hear Emma wailing as soon as you get out of the van.

Eddie sprints into the trailer with you right on his heels. Wayne is sitting on the couch, looking miserable as he tries to rock Emma.

"It's been like this for an hour now. I don't know what's wrong."

Eddie scoops her up, tucking her against his chest, whispering soft words of comfort.

"We're gonna take you to the doc and get everything sorted out Emmy. I've got you."

You make a few bottles and toss some diapers and wipes into her bag, adding a few toys and a change of clothes just in case.

Emma is calmer now, tugging on Eddie's hair and chewing on his necklace.

Eddie winces as she yanks a little too hard, but doesn't stop her.

"I'm gonna try to get some sleep before work. Wake me up when you get back and let me know what the doctor says." Wayne stands up and pats your shoulder. You can see the exhaustion on his face.

You glance over at Eddie and see the same thing. Dark rings under his eyes, stifling a yawn, looking like he hasn't slept in weeks.

"I could take her myself, if you both want to get a nap." You offer.

Eddie shakes his head. "No way. She's my sister. I'm taking her."

You and Wayne exchange a look.

Wayne. Help me out.

"I'm sure Y/N is more than capable of taking her to the doctor so we can get a little rest."

"I said no. I'm going." Eddie walks out the door without another word.

Wayne sighs. "I tried. I know he's just as tired as I am."

"I wish I could do more to help."

He pats your shoulder once more. "You've been a Godsend. I'm grateful to have you around. I know he doesn't show it, but so is Eddie."

I doubt that, but it's sweet to hear.

"Thanks, Wayne."

You hurry out the door to the van, helping Eddie buckle Emma in.

"I got it." He mutters. "I got her."

"Don't be mad. I was just trying to help."

He glares at you. "I told you, we don't need help. I can take care of her just fine. You can go back to your jock boyfriend and your airhead friends anytime you want. We don't need your pity. You don't have to keep slumming it with the freak."

"Stop it. That's not what this is. I care about Emma, Eddie. I care about Wayne, and despite how difficult you make it, I care about you, too."

He gets into the driver's seat and doesn't say anything else.

Ugh sometimes I just wanna smack him upside the head.

Eddie keeps the radio down low and chats with Emma the whole way there.

"Look Em, there's the playground! See that big doggy? And there's that bitch Mrs. Phillips that failed me last-"

"Eddie." You scold. "Language."

He chuckles. "Well she'll be in school eventually and she should know which teachers are gonna have it out for her."

"Fair point. They'll see Munson listed as a last name and have a heart attack."

No one knew who Emma's father really was. Eddie's dad had been in jail for years before Wendy got pregnant, but she'd still listed him on the birth certificate. Eddie didn't care either way. Emma was one hundred percent his baby sister.

You arrive at the doctor's office and sit in the waiting room, Eddie bouncing Emma on his knee while you hum to her and run your hand through her curls.

The nurse calls her name and you three follow her to a room. Emma starts fussing as soon as she's lifted from Eddie's arms. Eddie clenches his fists at his sides. You know he wants to snatch her back and comfort her.

The nurse gets a set of vitals.

"No temp. Her blood pressure and heart rate are a little high, but that's to be expected with her being upset."

She hands Emma back to Eddie. "I've got to prick her finger to get a blood sample. I need you to hold her still, okay?"

Eddie nods, wrapping his arms around Emma and hugging her close. The nurse takes her hand and sticks her finger.

Emma's face crumples. She looks up at Eddie and lets out a loud wail, tears spilling on her cheeks.

Eddie looks horrified. "How hard did you stick her!?"

"It's just a little prick. She's fine." The nurse reassures him, wrapping a band-aid around her finger.

Eddie scowls at her and hugs Emma tighter. "Shh, Em, it's okay. She's all done torturing you. Poor baby girl."

"Eddie, she's just doing her job." You scold him.

He ignores you and keeps a murderous glare trained on her until she leaves the room.

The doctor comes in a few minutes later. You and Eddie watch nervously as he examines her, letting her chew on his stethoscope and tug on his tie. He's very gentle with her, cooing and chuckling the entire time. You like him instantly.

"Is she walking yet?"

Eddie shakes his head. "No, she only started crawling two months ago."

"Any words?"

"Not really, mostly gibberish. But she's trying, aren't you Em?"

"Well, she's teething for sure, which explains some of the agitation. I'm more worried about delays in her development."

"Delays?"

"It's to be expected with a child of Emma's background." He shifts, looking uncomfortable. "I mean being born premature with, with-"

"Drugs in her system." Eddie mumbles. "You can say it."

"Yes, yes. My apologies. I think the best thing we can do for Emma right now is to get her on a specific schedule, with specific times for napping, sleeping, etc. There's foods that can be avoided, as they hype up children."

"We can do that, no problem."

"I'd also like to refer Emma to a specialist. Someone that can monitor her cognitive functions better, perhaps suggest some forms of therapy to get her where she needs to be."

Eddie nods. "Whatever she needs."

The doctor hesitates. "I'm not going to lie, these appointments can be expensive. Without insurance-"

Eddie cuts him off. "It's fine. We'll do whatever it takes." 

The doctor nods, leading you to the front desk. You're handled a folder with all the information. Eddie is silent, but the worry on his face speaks volumes. You stay silent too as he loads Emma into the van and then shuts the door, lighting up a cigarette.

He only smoked when he was extremely stressed. You watch as the worry is replaced by rage. He steps to the back of the van where Emma can't see him and kicks the tire.

"Fucking Wendy! Even now she screws us over. Even now she fucks everything up!"

"We'll figure it out, Eddie. I have some savings. The cheer squad, we'll do a bake sale. I know we can-"

"I'm not accepting your goddamn charity! She's my sister! Mine. My responsibility. I will figure this out. I will take care of her!"

"It's not about you and your fucking pride, Eddie! It's about Emma! I love her too and I'm going to help her any way I can!"

Eddie tosses the cigarette on the ground. "Get in. The sooner we get home the sooner I can get away from you."

You want to scream at him. You want to tell him off and walk home. But you know that he's scared for Emma and just lashing out.

You get into the passenger's seat and sit quietly.

Eddie sighs. He knows deep down that you're just trying to help. He knows that you love Emma. But you claimed to love him too, and then freshman year started and you basically ditched him to fit in with his tormentors. He wasn't going to give you the chance to hurt Emma like you'd hurt him. To leave her behind. The end of senior year was rapidly approaching and you'd be off to college, forgetting the both of them. He'd be all alone. And he'd be damned if Emma was gonna have to miss you the way he would.

You arrive back at the trailer and help Eddie get Emma inside.

"Do you want me to run to the store and get the stuff on the doctor's list?" You offer.

"I'll go get it in a bit. I'm gonna try to get her to nap first."

You flip through the doctor's instructions. "It says napping late in the evening can keep her up at night."

"She's exhausted."

"I know, but it's almost five now. If she sleeps she'll be up at seven ready to stay up all night."

"Then I'll stay up with her! I'm not forcing her to stay awake when she's sleepy."

"Eddie-"

"You're not the one having to sit up with her so what do you care?"

"I'm trying to help Emma! She shouldn't have to sit up miserable all night because you can't toughen up a bit and do what's best for her!"

Eddie bristles. "Get out. Seriously. Get the fuck out."

Wayne comes down the hallway. "What's all this yelling? Is something wrong?"

Eddie glares at you. "No, sorry. Everything's fine."

"What did the doctor say about Emma?"

"She's fine. Teething."

What? Why isn't he telling him everything?

Eddie grabs your arm and propels you to the door. "Can you watch Em a second? I need to continue this conversation with Y/N privately."

You let him lead you outside.

"Keep your mouth shut about what the doc said. Wayne will kill himself picking up extra shifts to cover the specialist costs."

You nod. Wayne was overworked and exhausted as it was. "I won't say anything on one condition."

He sighs. "I should have known asking you for a favor would come with terms. What do you want?"

"You let me help with the costs. My savings are just sitting there. Use them."

"I'm not gonna do that."

"I'll go to the specialist and pay myself if I have to Eddie. But it doesn't have to be like that. Let me help. Please."

He stares at you as if he's trying to read your mind.

"Let me help." You repeat.

"Fine. But you'll let me pay you back when I can."

"I don't want-"

"That's the only way I'm agreeing to this."

"Fine. You'll pay me back."

"Then we have a deal."

"Do you want me to stay for a bit? I can watch Emma so you can get a nap."

"No, it's fine. I'm not tired."

"Eddie. You're exhausted. I can see it on your face."

"I said-"

"I'm amending my conditions. You also have to accept my help when I offer it. Stop pushing me away."

"I'm just trying to protect Emma."

"From me? Eddie, I love her like she's my own sister. I would never do anything to hurt her. How could you think that?"

Because you hurt me. He wants to say. Because you claimed to love me and then hurt me.

Instead he scowls at you. "Do whatever you want then."

You know he's still being an ass but you take it as a win.

You start back inside, but he stops at the door and turns back to you.

"You were never gonna tell Wayne about the specialist, were you?" He asks. "When I told you not to say anything, you agreed immediately."

"I'm not answering that." You breeze past him and into the trailer.

Eddie stands outside a bit longer, wondering exactly what he's gotten himself into with you.

[androidships007]

TMNT ALL 4-1 CHALLENGE: BLIND DATE

"Look, I know it seems like a lot but I think this will help you feel more at home here. I just think this would help you, ya know," April shrugs.

"I you what?" You asked unimpressed.

"Nevermind" she sighed, "just please believe me, he's a great guy! Even if this doesn't go anywhere, I promise you'll still have a good time!"

April was the first friend you had made in NYC. You had moved here rather suddenly and didn't have a solid plan. You were running from your past, and the city seemed big enough to hide from your ghosts. You just wanted to keep a low profile and get yourself together. Despite the short time you had known her one thing had become apparent and April, she was stubborn. Once she sets her sights on something she goes after it like her life depends on it.

She wasn't going to let this go. Still, you knew she was a good person. She was kind to you since the first day you met, she never pushed you or tried to get you to open up about your past. She had never pushed you on anything before now.

You rubbed your aching head. You had listened to all of April's "crazy" rantings and theories. Truth be told she had great intuition, even if she didn't always get the recognition she deserved. She was smart and quick to take action. Maybe this was her way of trying to thank you for actually taking her seriously. Even if it wasn't, you felt like you could trust her.

"Fine. I'll do it."

"Really!?" April lunged forward, wrapping her arms around you. "I promise you won't regret this!"

April pulled her self away and fished something out of her pocket. She scribbled down something on a piece of paper for you, before thrusting at you like she was interviewing you for the news.

"Thanks" you rolled your eyes, taking the paper from April's excited hands.

"Don't worry about a thing, I'll go call him now and set everything up!"

April left like a storm, leaving you standing alone in your tiny apartment. You flopped down on the cheap couch you found at the thrift store, whining when it creaked in protest.

"How could I not be worried about a blind date?" You said to noone in particular.

You looked down at the scrap again. Despite her hasty writing you could make out an address and a name.

Part 2 after votes finish, trying to do a choose your own adventure thing. We'll see how it works 😅 @turtle-babe83 @sharpwindow @thelaundrybitch @tmnt-tychou

[zombie-rott]

Pawprints; She'll make you love her.

Relationship: Terzo X Prime Mover (Sofia)

Trigger warning: Cats? Is that a warning?

Synopsis:

Terzo learns that Greta is an enigma and, despite his clear indifference to her presence, she's going to force him to love her.

Notes:

I'm going to turn Terzo into a cat dad if it's the last thing I ever write in this world.

Part 1

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~

After a week of living in her new chambers, Greta had decided that she preferred Terzo's office over any other room. It was smaller and cosier, with a plush couch and plenty of places to hide. But most of all it's where Terzo spent the majority of his time, and where his visitors came to greet him. 

Greta loved new people. 

She loved to tip-toe towards them. gliding across the stone floor on her delicate paws like a graceful dancer. Her tail held up proudly, signalling that she owned these quarters, and you were most welcome to be there. 

However, there was an exception. Namely Sister Imperator. The woman wasn't a well-liked character by most, especially Terzo and his prime mover. And, apparently, the sentiment was shared with Greta. 

Instead of meeting Sister like she did so many others, with a spring in her step and her tail held high, she kept herself low to the ground beneath one of the bookshelves. As the woman's heels clicked across the floor, Greta growled low in her throat. 

"You've redecorated?" Sister said, raising her eyebrow at the scratching post in the corner of the room. 

Terzo rolled his eyes. 

"Si. Il gatta insists on spending most of its time in here with me during working hours. These things stop it from scratching the couch. I've tried keeping it out but it makes such awful noises if it doesn't get what it wants." 

Sister Imperator bent herself at the waist to look down at Greta in her hiding place. The cat hissed and swiped her claws in response.

"Humph. Nasty little thing, isn't it?" 

Terzo didn't verbally agree with the woman, instead drawing her attention away from the cat to other matters. Despite Terzo's protests about Greta, he didn't in fact find her nasty at all. She was rather beautiful if he were to allow himself to admit it. And her temperament was bold, something they shared in common. 

So, he simply couldn't bring himself to agree with Sister on the 'nastiness' of the feline despite his outward indifference. 

Greta didn't leave the sanctuary of the bookcase until the woman left nearly thirty minutes later. And she stayed hidden from Terzo for a further ten afterwards just to be sure. Eventually, she crawled out from beneath it and slowly began rubbing her face against the corners of the furniture. 

Terzo stopped writing and looked up to watch the slender feline nuzzle her cheeks against the legs of his couch, the baseboards, and even the frame of the door. She worked her way around the room until she was eventually standing by his feet and gently bunting her head against his shins. What had Sofia called it? Marking? 

“What is it?” He asked, slightly annoyed at the hairs now on his trousers. 

Greta bunted again before looking up at him with those orb-like eyes. They reminded him of the apples in the orchards in France where he’d spent some time as a cardinal. 

Suddenly she was on his knee. He flinched, raising his arms in the air. 

“Ah! You have me covered in hair. Stronza!” 

But Greta didn’t waver, instead, she began gently rubbing her head against his suit jacket. 

He raised his eyebrows in the sudden realisation that this cat, this small black goblin that didn’t belong to him and whom he didn’t particularly like, was making sure he smelled like her. 

Sofia’s words from a few nights prior rang in his head. 

“Cats have no master, only servants.” 

Greta wanted everyone to know that Terzo was her servant. Or at least one of them. 

“You are such strange little creatures.” Terzo eventually said as he gently lifted the cat to the ground. 

She shook herself and sauntered away to be in her favourite position as the living couch pillow. 

~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~ 

“It can’t stay in office any more.” 

Sofia knitted her eyebrows in confusion.

“What can’t?”

“Il Gatta!”

“Just close the door when you’re working. She’ll be alright in here by herself. Besides, you have too many people coming in and out. It’ll scare her.” Sofia answered matter-of-factly before returning to her novel,” And Greta is a she. Not an 'it!'” 

“It- She screams if the door is left closed. So loud it could wake the dead themselves. What will people think when they come to consult me? Eh?”

Terzo glared at Greta from her bed at the bottom of their duvet. She stretched herself, long and thin, her toes spreading outwards and her mouth opening in a wide yawn. 

“And where’s this fear you talk of? She greets everyone with a chirp and strides right over to them like they’re here to see her! Well, except for Imperator.” 

Sofia laughed.

“She has a good judge of character. Just look at how she adores you.” 

Terzo raised an eyebrow. Him? Adored him? And then it hit him. 

“Is that why she covers me in her fur? Because she likes me?” He asked, lowering his book once again to watch the feline as she licked between her toes. 

“Si, and why she yowls when you don’t let her into the office. She wants to be near you, as she wants to be near me. You’re her new human, and she wants people to know that you’re hers. It’s how they show affection.” 

The clergyman rested back into his pillows to contemplate this. He had been nothing but indifferent to the cat from the moment he had met her. And yet she was persistent to gain his approval. No simply wasn’t an answer that she, or apparently her entire species, understood. 

A cat was never something Terzo had wanted in his life. A dog, maybe. Maybe even something reptilian. But not a cat. They were such fickle little creatures who shit in boxes and demanded for it to be picked up. And what did they do other than sleep and eat? 

But the more he spent time with Greta the more he could see a personality. She was bold and talkative but also could be aloof with the wrong person. Even somewhat aggressive as he had witnessed with Sister earlier that day. 

Yes, she certainly was an enigma wrapped up in the body of a large-eared, coal-furred gremlin. 

“You know she’ll make you love her, si?”

“Humph. No one can make me love them.”

“I did.” 

And with that, they both shared a knowing look, gently kissed and returned to their respective novels.

[calicostorms]

Happy bday noodle!

A small ficlet about Angel bringing a kitten home and David gradually growing fond of it for your birthday! Much love @angelnoodlesoup

"We are not keeping it."

"Come on, just look at her face! How can you say no, Davey?" Angel whines, face pleading.

"We are not keeping it."

"Come on, just look at her face! How can you say no, Davey?" Angel whines, face pleading.

"Easily," he replies, staring at the little tabby kitten in their arms. David isn't a cat person, he's never owned a cat. They don't even have any equipment for owning a cat, let alone a kitten.

His partner pouts, holding the kitten close to their chest. "Don't listen to him," they say to the cat, "we'll keep you, don't let his big macho alpha stuff scare you."

The kitten mews pathetically as if in answer, little kitten claws digging into their sweater while they pet between her ears.

"One night," he relents finally with a deep frown. "Then we take her to a shelter tomorrow. If she throws up on the carpet it's going to be your responsibility."

Angel just grins, eyes already shining while they hold the kitten close. It'd be very cute if they weren't trying to convince him that owning a kitten of all things would be a good idea.

-

David wakes up with a little ball of fur curled up between them, cold nose pressed to his shoulder. Of course, he thinks.

The kitten is so small against him that he barely feels it, so he doesn't bother moving it while he reads through the news on his phone before getting up for work. It's not like he cares whether he disturbs her but she's just laying on his shoulder. It's fine.

He shifts in preparation to get up and the little kitten mews in protest, tiny claws digging into his worn sleep shirt.

"I'm going to work," he says, feeling stupid for talking to a cat of all things. "You have to move now."

As if in reply she stares up at him with big, plaintive looking eyes, and he sighs in annoyance.

"You can follow me to the kitchen if you want, but I'm leaving after breakfast. You can't cling to my shirt all day."

The kitten opens her mouth in a near-soundless, pathetic meow that makes the alpha roll his eyes. "Drama queen. It's not the end of the world."

Finally, he carefully shifts the kitten off his shoulder. Her body feels tiny in his hands, fragile and shaking ever so slightly as he prys her away from his chest to set her down on the blankets.

David sits up, watching the tiny kitten stare at him for several moments before she waddles awkwardly over to the edge of the bed and wiggles carefully before throwing herself off the edge of the bed and landing with a hard thunk.

He grimaces at the noise and quietly kneels on the ground to check the kitten over.

"That was a stupid decision."

The kitten stares up at him as he gets up and pads into their kitchen, hearing the kitten skid across the wood flooring while she follows at his heels as he walks, attempting to catch the soft fleece of his pants.

Once he stops, she actually catches it in her little paws and bats at it. He can feel the fabric shift against his leg and smiles slightly, endeared despite himself.

She chases after him as he makes breakfast, skidding over the floors in overexcitement and bumping against his legs any time he stands still. It's annoying as hell, having to walk over the fumbling kitten while he attempts to actually make food, but she doesn't seem deterred by his attempts to gently nudge her away with his feet.

He even gets his toes bitten for the trouble.

Ugh.

She gets under his feet endlessly while he's getting ready for work, jumping up to mess with his pants as he unfolds them and chewing with the laces of his boots while he's putting them on. The little kitten even tries to lay down on top of his shoes after he puts them on, which prompts a long suffering sigh of annoyance.

The alpha carefully pries her tiny paws away from his laces and picks her up to place her down on the ground beside them.

"Please don't puke on my couch," he says tiredly, watching the tabby as he opens the front door to leave. "I'll see you, little menace, tonight."

He hears a muffled meow through the door as he leaves, and a tiny paw sticks out from beneath it in a way that makes him stifle a smile of amusement.

-

By the time David comes home, he's received more comments about the kitten than about their actual job.

He's also received copious amounts of pictures of the kitten sprawled out on the couch or sleeping on top of Angel, which he has enjoyed, though he probably would deny it if someone pressed him.

The second he steps inside again he hears the kitten scampering across their wooden flooring, little paws unable to get a good grip. As he takes his boots off he watches the little tabby skid across their living room floor to finally arrive at his side and paw at his pants leg.

"Don't put holes in my work pants, little menace," he scolds, nudging their paws until they aren't attached to his pants leg anymore.

His expression softens as he spots his mate, pulling them in for a brief kiss. "Hi, Angel," David says quietly, trying very hard to ignore the kitten pitifully mewling at their feet.

They laugh, kissing him again before pulling away to pick up the kitten and kiss her on the forehead. "How was work?" They ask.

David just groans.

"How do you think? Of course the entire pack somehow knows about the kitten and is making a huge fuss. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that."

Bright eyes twinkle mischievously, a smile pulling the edges of their lips. "Of course not, Davey," they reply, "I'm completely innocent."

They're lying– Asher already admitted they texted a photo of the kitten to most of the pack, but he doesn't mind. If he did, he wouldn't be dating them.

"You're so far from innocent you could be in a different universe," he replies skeptically, but cups the back of their neck to guide them into a soft kiss regardless.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last long. It's derailed by a tiny, upset meow that makes Angel smile against his lips before pulling away. "She probably wants to be fed," Angel admits ruefully.

While he makes dinner, the kitten eats (loudly) and meows at him as if he's personally wronged her. He watches Angel play with her on the floor, quietly amused by watching the kitten paw at them. They can't keep the kitten, but it is cute.

He looks away, determined to remain strong.

Later, on the couch cuddling together with the kitten quietly napping on his thigh, he admits that he's enjoying having the kitten around. She's a menace and a pain in his ass, but when she's purring like a motor and passed out on his leg it's hard to mind so much.

Angel is playing some video game so he carefully strokes the kitten's tabby fur while stifling a fond smile.

She really is cute. Cuter than Aggro was when Milo first got them too, with her little button nose and wonky whiskers.

Angel leans their cheek on his shoulder with a grin that's so smug he already knows what's about to come out of their mouth.

"So we can keep the kitten?"

He groans, frustrated, but doesn't cease his gentle petting over the kitten's forehead. After their long pause he sighs heavily in defeat, kissing their temple.

"Yes, Angel. We can keep her."

He already knows that the little menace will become a welcome fixture in their afternoon cuddles on the couch and a completely spoiled brat.

[mustcrdgreens]

He didn't quite know how he got there, with photos spread around himself from an album he'd unearthed that morning, but he wasn't going to stop any time soon. This, sitting in his memories, had been unwelcome for too long.

Rough-hewn fingers pluck another one up, of his late husband contorted on the couch, tongue out. It was a more recent photo, but he couldn't help but think about him on the whole. July had been a man of his own making; pills and injections acquired in gym locker rooms, and duct tape holding his chest flat had been how he'd sculpted himself when Jack met him. 21 and new to the states, he'd come to gain access to transitioning, where he'd been condemned by family in Italy.

He noticed Jack's hanky at the party where they'd met, the white lace hanging out of his left pocket tugged out and dangled in the younger man's face. And that was that--the two fell fast. Jules was loud, and dramatic, and unapologetic in both of those things. He made friends quickly and easily, he always had plans, and almost always followed through. He was effeminate by choice, hated being dirty, and favored the more lavish things in life. In almost every way, he had been Jack's opposite, and they'd been perfectly in sync despite this. He can still hear his own voice, as he stares down this photo.

"July, let me take a nice picture. I only want one." He holds the polaroid camera they'd bought years ago, scowling down at the smaller man. Jules refuses to listen, moving on the contrary to bring his knee even with his head.

"This one will be as nice as all of them, Signore; my face is in it," he answers, a laugh in his voice, and Jack's honorific on his tongue. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"You know what I mean, brat."

"Snap the picture already, love, you aren't getting anything else this time."

He rarely took "good" pictures, preferring silly poses and faces when he was meaningfully ruining them, and blinking or looking away in others. Jack doesn't linger as long as one he finds of them together, of the man's tongue out and his eyes distracted by a child running past, he thinks. It had been Thanksgiving at the Cravens' home, but he can't remember much more about the context. He swallows thickly, as he places it off to the side, glances to another of them together, where Jules' head lays in his lap, gripping his hair and forcing him to bend down for a kiss. He can't bear to look much longer, remembering the chittering laugh against his lips as he growled out from the dull pain in his scalp. He aches. He pushes it away.

"No, don't pick her up--Ravenna, come here, Papa's wearing his pain jacket--Jeconiah, no!"

Jack brushes a thumb over the visage of his daughter walking into his arms. It had been an accidental shot. Jules had initially been photographing their daughter alone, but Jack entered the frame, caught her attention with spikes and paint and patches, and the promise of being held. A finger moved by accident, a blurry image left behind.

"She's fine, Jules, she wants to be picked up. It's not that bad."

July's hands wave wildly in his protest, but it's too late, Ravenna sits in Jack's arms, face snuggled to his neck. She doesn't seem to mind the spikes embedded into leather, but pale hands take her, balance her against his chest, above his pregnant belly.

"She could poke an eye out, my love, I want my perfect baby to stay perfect!" He pats her hat-clad head, pursing his lips to press a kiss to it. She starts to cry, curling into him as she had Jack. "There, there, bella ragazza. Papa can hold you when he isn't wearing that."

He chuckles at the thought of the man acting far more doting to their children than he'd ever seen him. As he sets it down, eyes scan for more before he comes across a more artistic piece of their three sat side by side--for as much as he refused to be good in a picture, himself, Jules had been similar with taking them. He wanted them pretty, aesthetic, modeled perfectly. It led to half of the images they owned having faces in them, and the other half being... this.

"None of these have their faces in them," Jack says with a sigh, his arms crossing over his chest. He just wanted things for the scrapbook, and here there were images of their children without the things that make them their children--their identities. Jules plants hands on his hips, pursing his lips.

"And they are beautiful, just like our children."

"I still wish I had more images of their beautiful faces, July," he grumbles, shaking his head. The picture is set aside. He sits back, eyes sliding shut. He wasn't going to be bitter. Not about something that made his husband so... himself. He starts to clean up, stacking the photos together to return to the shoebox they'd been in. More images of his family are glanced at as they're put away, but his chest is tight, and his eyes are beginning to burn. But... he's given pause when he finds an image of himself, so very long ago, still eighteen. It's one of the only images that July had taken with a face, and it had been of him, smiling brightly. It was a candid, he'd been talking if he remembered correctly.

He'd been happy.

Sure, he had been happy since then, had been happy with their children, with his husband, with his life before the paradox--but there wasn't much evidence of that happiness properly within photos, all posed and perfect, or with his face out of frame. His hand begins to shake, the longer he stares at himself, and tears well up. Shit. He wasn't a crier. He wasn't going to cry. Jack takes a deep breath, but it doesn't stop the wave. He missed being happy, truly happy. The facsimile of happiness he'd manage to procure lately was nice, lighter on his heart than the constant guilt, but it was nothing compared to what he used to be.

He packs the photo away, continues to clean up his mess. The shoebox is put into his closet once more, sobs bubbling up out of his chest in the meanwhile. Had he ever cried about his husband and children dying? Or had he forced himself into an image of almost-neutral anger too soon? He sits on their bed, smelling of dust after so long.

"I miss you," he manages, laying in Jules' spot, his head on his pillow, "I don't want to move on. I've started liking two men that I know you'd like for me--one is your friend, you remember Rusty Craven--and it feels... wrong. But so right." He sniffles. "I don't want to move on, I don't want to forget y-..." He shakes his head, lapsing into silence.

He misses July, he doesn't want to move on. But he does want to be happy. Why can't he just be happy? Why can't he let himself be happy? It wasn't as if being happy meant he would forget.

He sits up, wipes his eyes, gazes into the warm sun still quite high in the sky. He plucks up the phone once he's found the will to go to the living room.

"Hey, Tiger, want to rent a movie?"

Reggie is happy to oblige. He'd call Rusty next.

The light might not be the same brightness as it had been so long ago, but he would try to let it in again. He needed it, if he was going to continue surviving.

[zuzusexytiems]

When either J or P are sick, how do you think the other takes care of them?

Hello! Thank you so much for sending something in 🥰 This ended up a little longer than I expected, but I hope its fine 😅

Anyway!

I feel like Pieck would be the type of caregiver to internalize her worry (both for her own sake and Jean's), so she has a tendency to be a bit more practical and do everything by the book: She'll check his temperature every now and again, will make sure to wake him up every few hours to take his medicine (Jean would be super whiny about this lmao), and try to make healthy soups and dishes to get him back in shape (even if she's a terrible cook and it's Jean who usually does the cooking, lol).

She also gets a little paranoid whenever Jean's sick, but she'll never admit it—so she'll always stay in the room with him despite his protests (i.e. Jean insisting he'll be fine: "Babe, you might catch whatever this is. I can just stay on the couch, don't worry," and Pieck challenging that same insistence: "Who's gonna look after you, though? 😭")

If it's Pieck who's sick, Jean would be the type to focus more on her immediate needs (Pieck can get whiny when she's sick and doesn't hesitate to let him know what she wants 😅). If she's having a headache, he's quick to grab the massage oil and rub her temples, or give her back rubs and foot rubs. If he sees her fever spiking up, he doesn't hesitate to scoop her up and get her to take a cold shower and stay there with her, just so he's sure she doesn't fall over or anything 🥺

Unlike Pieck (who tries to put up a calmer, more collected front as a caregiver), Jean easily panics over the smallest things. He would go over the top with literally everything: If Pieck has a sore throat and it lasts a little longer than usual, he's already an anxious mess scrolling through WebMD 🤣 If she has a fever and says she feels like getting some soup for dinner, Jean's already in a frenzy ordering 10 types of soup from 10 different places "just to be sure it's something she likes." 🥴

For both of them though, I like thinking about one of them asleep in the middle of the day, and the other just lying there with them, scrolling through their phone with one hand, and stroking the other person's hair with the other to make sure they're comfortable 🥺

If it's Pieck who's sick and asleep, she burrows her head onto Jean's side, and Jean would keep an arm around her always 🥺 (The arm falls asleep later on but he doesn't care, lmao)

If it's Jean, every few minutes, Pieck will press the back of her hand against his cheek when he's asleep, just to check his temperature. I think she'd be very tender, too, and stroke her thumb along his jaw as she does, give him a kiss on the forehead despite possibly catching whatever he has—she doesn't care either 😭)

—

Anyway, thank you again for asking! I always love answering these and sharing my little hc's to anyone who will have them. ☺️

Shameless plug, but I do also have a fic that features a very stubborn Jean who's delirious with fever, and Pieck trying to take care of him hehe. You can find that here!

If you're into it, one of the chapters in OOML also has a scene where Jean gets dizzy, falls over, and Pieck catches him 👀 Link to that chapter here :)

Enjoy, and thank you again! 🥰

—

Send me a Jeanpiku ask!

[dxrknessexploredarchived]

protecting their peace when friends and family are around ("no, don't wake them! they're sick.") - Lily and Harvey

Sick fic prompts: @lixnhearted / @tealeavesandthorns

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that no one but Harvey Bullock had watched out or cared for Harvey Bullock in a long time. Lily had pieced that together fairly quickly when he had shown up to the apartment sniffling and looking far more run down than usual. One touch to his forehead was all that she needed to confirm that he was running a fever. Burning up to the touch, clammy, pale. All signs of illness having taken hold, whether viral or otherwise. Ushering him through the door, Lily immediately had him sit on the couch. Cold medication and some warm tea were shoved into his hands, despite the protests that he put up that he was fine. She knew better and wasn't going to take no for an answer, no matter how much he protested. Lilt knew that men were stubborn when it came to being sick, but as somebody who had been on his own for as long as Harvey had, she knew this would be more difficult to accept. And far more difficult for her to climb over those walls.

Having not seen him for two days between her work and his, she wasn't entirely certain how long he had not been feeling well, and Harvey wasn't very forthcoming with the information. Not that she was all that surprised. He was definitely the sort to work through whatever illness that he had and not bat and eyelash at it. Though she supposed that came from not only being on his own but working in a field where there wasn't an option to not come to work. Lily could understand it to a degree, given that she wasn't one to call out either, even if she wasn't feeling well. Where was it that she canceled class or didn't show up in the lab. She had to really be bedridden to not end up going to work.

Lord only knew what had brought it on. Exposure at the station? A stakeout in the ridiculous downpour that had plagued the city for nearly a week? His immune system finally deciding that enough was enough, Jim had run him ragged, and he needed a break?

"You're fussing over nothing," Harvey said, in an entirely unconvincing tone. It also didn't help his cause as he started to cough. The sort that seemed to rattle in his chest. Which also caused her to end up leaning towards him suffering from something a little more serious than just a cold.

"That doesn't sound like nothing. If anything, it sounds like the start of pneumonia, and the last thing that you need is to end up in the hospital."

"You're being melodramatic, I'm fine. It's nothing a few drinks, and a little sleep won't fix."

"Oh, for the love of…" she sighed out exasperated. "You're burning to the touch and you could barely walk straight when you came in here. And it isn't the sort of not being able to walk straight that comes from too many drinks. I do know the difference by now. You're going to go lay down and get some sleep. I'll have some homemade soup ready for you when you wake up." He grumbled out his discontent but ended up slowly getting to his feet and shuffling off back towards the bedroom. Lily let out a sigh and moved to the kitchen to start getting everything ready for the promised soup. Knowing Harvey he had probably only had a couple pastries and some coffee the last 2 days if he had really been that busy. Likely a little bit of alcohol mixed in there too. She knew about the hip flask after all.

*****

It was a couple hours later when she heard shuffling coming from the bedroom, along with that rattling, hacking cough coupled with a series of sneezes. No, he was perfectly fine. Rolling her eyes, she scooped some of the soup into a bowl and grabbed some water from the fridge.

The sight that greeted her confirmed that he was far from fine. His nose was red from the rubbing and sneezing. Sweat beaded along his hairline, meaning the fever hadn't entirely broken just yet. A worrisome factor she shoved to the back of her mind. If it wasn't gone by tomorrow, she would have to convince him to head to the doctors. His face was a little more drawn and more pale than he had been before he had gone to lay down. All in all, Harvey looked like shit.

"Sit down," she murmured as she made her way over to him. "You think you can eat anything?" Maybe it was the flu. That seemed to have been going around campus. A half-hearted shrug was given before he all but collapsed down to the couch. A sound of sympathy worked from her throat before she carefully settled the bowl in front of him, along with the water. Beer or liquor wasn't an option right now. Hydration was far more important with that fever.

She settled in beside him, brushing some hair from his sweaty forehead, watching some shivers wrack his body. A few grunts and grumbles of incoherent words spewed forth, but it was about as much as she got from the man as he picked up the bowl and slowly started to eat. It seemed to be a hit, whether he was feeling awful or not, as a second spoon quickly followed.

"My mom's old recipe. Forget where she learned it, but know it always made me feel better no matter how shitty I was feeling as a kid." She didn't expect a response, and none was given. That was okay. Flicking on the television, she settled on some old noir film that she thought he might appreciate.

It didn't take him long after he had finished the bowl to pass right back out again. She didn't have the heart to move him, so she grabbed a blanket and carefully draped it over his frame, once more brushing some hair from his face before lightly tracing his cheek. From what she had seen, he probably would have gone until he dropped, and then who knew what would have happened on the floor of his apartment. He would probably remain knocked out cold for a day or two before struggling to get back to an even keel.

Lily shook her head and decided to settle in with him, placing his head in her lap and threading her fingers through his hair softly, as soothingly as she could in what she hoped might ease his sleep or make him feel better if he woke.

******

The actions were apparently soothing enough to her as well, since she didn't remember falling asleep. Clearly, she had, though, as the knocking on the door woke her up. Harvey was snoring softly, completely undisturbed by the loud, obnoxious sound. Carefully, Lily had to detach herself from the man and make her way over.

Jim Gordon was standing at the door, one hand on his hip, the other half raised to knock again as she opened it. Half glaring, she stepped into the halfway and closed the door, save the tiniest crack.

"Easy, Lily. I was just looking for Harvey."

"Keep your voice down or you'll end up waking him up."

"Well, he needs to get up. We have a case," Jim offered her before making a move to push open the door around her. Her hand shot out to grab his arm.

"No, you don't," she all hut growled out. "You are not going to wake him. He is sick as a dog and needs his sleep. He half stumbled in here, feverish and ready to hack up a lung. It hasn't broken yet either. So, you are just going to have to handle whatever Gotham decided to toss at you today on your own, okay? I won't have you putting his life at risk anymore than the both of you already do on the daily. Not when he is like this. He needs rest." Her voice had softened a bit at the end. Jim looked a cross of amused and annoyed.

"He can't be that…."

"If you even think about finishing that sentence, I will find Lee and let her know, do you understand?" Jim pulled his arm back and held up his hands in a half surrender.

"Okay, okay. I'll head out and let the Captain know he is home sick today."

"Good. Thank you. I'll call you if anything changes, or I gotta drag his ass to the doctors." Jim nodded before giving her a bit of a smile.

"Glad he has you looking out for him, Lily." She nodded and managed a small smile before watching him walk off. There was that. With the door closed softly and the lock in place, Lily made her way back to the couch. Harvey's snores were a little quieter but still present. She felt comfortable in the fact that Jim hadn't woken him up, and he was getting the rest that he deserved.

She would never know that Jim had woken him up, and he had heard every word.

[regalityandcoffee]

Will and Jade Headcanons/Timeline part 7 (because why not at this point)

Andy has to drive back home the night before Jade is discharged from the hospital

While Mia helps Jade deal with the discharge papers, Adam pulls Will aside and thanks him again for the parent thing, and asks for a small favor...

Adam carries Jade to the car (she's too tired to argue with him about it) and drives her home

Jade's quiet in the passenger seat, a little too quiet.

Adam turns down the ready and confesses that he asked, if she would allow it, for Will to pop in on her on occasion while she's out on injury since he'll be on tour for a couple of weeks and they both knew good and damn well she'd tell Mia and Keith not to worry about her

"What?! No! Why would you ask him that?!"

"'Cause he's looked out for you this whole time and he's been so nice and helped me get rid of your parents when-"

"WHAT?!"

"...I didn't tell you that part? He helped me..."

So that's how Jade finds out Will scared off her parents from the hospital. Adam never told him why they were bad people, he just followed suit when Adam began to tell them off.

...and he's not exactly wrong about Will being nice. If she was honest, after Mia he was probably the only other person she was really close to in NXT, though she hardly talked to him. If she was being honest, she'd probably miss him a lot while she was gone. She buries her face in her hands.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, just...thinking..."

"He said he wouldn't mind, it's just that he doesn't want to bother you while you rest up-"

"Bother me?! I don't want to bother him!"

"He gave me his number, if you change your mind. Just say it and I'll, uh...send him our address okay?"

"..."

They make it home, and despite her protests Adam carries her up the stairs to their apartment, very carefully, her head against his chest.

In other words: yet another thing for Jade to panic over when she's alone.

Jade stays on the couch while Adam unloads her duffle and the get well cards from some of the roster she received (along with two big teddy bears from Lacey, Tucker, and Otis)

"Two months...two fucking months..."

Meanwhile, the general manager of nxt is having having a bit of a realization as he stares at the ownerless Women's championship in his hands, on his couch in his own home.

He's going to miss Jade. That's two months (or more) without seeing her in the halls. That's two months without knowing if she's alright.

There was no use in denying he had become fond of her. He worried about her constantly, even before her fall at Takeover. If she was handling things okay, if people were being nice to her despite her obvious hesitance to socialize with them.

But that fall, her passing out against him on the ramp, gods it scared the hell out of him. He still wasn't sure why he held her hand in the ambulance. He just wanted to make sure she was okay, that she knew someone was there and she wouldn't have go to the hospital alone.

If he could he never would have left her alone the first night, (despite knowing Mia probably would have killed him if he suggested staying with her) but it was out of his hands.

He tried not to get attached like this to competitors, he really did. But this time he couldn't help it.

Besides, he still couldn't shake the feeling she reminded him of someone...he eidnt just see a bit of himself on her but someone else entirely...

A week passes, and despite texting Adam and Mia almost everyday the loneliness and dread had already set in. Despite her best efforts to resist, Jade tunes in for NXT. Of course she knew she'd gave to vacate the title. But something about seeing Regal announce it on screen...hurts. Plus...he looks...weird as he announces the tournament to replace her...Almost as if he didn't want to make the announcement at all.

She shrugs it off, switching to something else on the tv, barely paying attention to it before going to bed.

The next day, tired of being inside, Jade drives herself to get some snacks. Since she's out, she might as well get some cheesecake, right? Just as she's turning to eave the chip aisle she bumps into someone. Literally

"Oh, sorry, sorry..."

"Miss Prescott?"

"Mr. Regal?"

Will frets over her immediately, dusting her off, asking if bumping into him hurt, how she even got here because she's obviously not supposed to be driving. She just awkwardly points out her window at her car in the parking lot, not really getting why he's so concerned.

Eventually (after awkward)small talk, he says good bye, and is startled by her saying "wait!"

"...do you- do you want to come over?"

[xxsycamore]

Forever Yours, F.

Summary: They should return to the party, yet Fenrir finds himself wanting yet another present from Alice.

The dirty conclusion of the events in "Yours Forever, A."

Can perfectly be read alone.

Rating: E

Wordcount:  1,146

Tags: Birthday Sex; Fluff and Smut; Riding; Lap sex; Creampie; Clothed sex 

Check my masterlist here! You can also find all my works on AO3 under user xsycamore.  In my profile you can find my Ko-fi if you would like to support me!

"Mm, we better get back to the party before they start thinking things."

One leg draped over Fenrir's, Alice all but melts into her boyfriend's touch. They're on the couch of his bedroom in the Godspeed manor, previously sneaked out of Fenrir's birthday party that takes place around the pool in the backyard. Alice has requested this moment alone in order to give him a present in private. The gesture still fresh on Fenrir's senses, he hides nothing of his thankfulness for it. With the aid of words, hugs, and, with other methods.

"Fen…"

He kisses her nape, short of where a naughty lock of her hair has escaped her neat updo. For some reason it amuses him greatly, as he gives himself to the urge to curl it around his finger and play with it.

Never quite giving an indication that he's heard her previous warning, Fenrir plays innocent as he rains another set of small kisses against her flesh. He feels the leg draped over his lap stir, as if she wishes to correct her posture. But not necessary into a more proper one.

He decides to help her out, scooping her from the sofa and carefully maneuvering her into his lap. Her immediate reaction is to wrap her arms around his shoulder and finish her "eep" with a chuckle, because despite everything, else this is fun.

"Mm, they did already, didn't they? You should've seen how Ray eyed me."

It's nothing like that! Alice wants to protest, and truly, it has been nothing like that. Up to this point, that's it.

Up close Fenrir looks as handsome as ever, but on his birthday he absolutely shines. It's almost as if he reflects all the adoration that's been rained on him.

"You've kissed me nowhere as much as I did!"

And even when his brows knit together in that familiar pout, he is still handsome. Has she truly worked him up so much?

"That's because I'll leave lipstick all over you if I did!"

Fenrir has to admit she has a point, still he notes the usage of "all over". He raises an eyebrow, pulling her even closer to his frame - her lips millimeters away from his face.

"You've seen what my aunts did to me, Alice. It would hardly matter at this point."

Alice laughs at the memory of just how much Fenrir's extended family was doting on him earlier, excited to see him again. She is truly seeing him in a different light today, it overwhelms her in a strangely pleasant way.

"Alright then… I might as well wipe you with a damp napkin later."

Always so thoughtful and caring, Fenrir feels his own heartbeat grow faster at the warm thought. He stays unmoving for a moment, simply enjoying the attention as Alice finally allows herself to give him a portion of well-deserved smooches. Though, he can't help it but feel…handsy. She is in the perfect position for him to run his hands down her rear, and squeeze. And he does exactly that.

Alice doesn't shy away, only slowing the movements of her lips until her kisses grow sloppy and off-place. She drags her mouth further up, aligning it with Fenrir's. It all comes so naturally.

Fenrir moans at the naughty little wiggle of her hips, as if asking to caress her again. He runs his hands down until he reaches the hem of her dress, and then slips his hands underneath the fabric to feel her flesh.

His breath is fanning against her earlobe when he pulls away from the kiss to whisper, "I fantasized about you bare under that short dress."

Alice's eyelids flutter open, glaring at him with rosy cheeks.

"In front of everyone! I could never!"

"Aww, but it won't be a first…"

Fenrir pushes the cloth covering her slit to the side, getting annoyed at the way it won't stay in place until desperately hiking up higher on one glove of her ass. Her core is directly over his dick now, on the verge of spilling hot arouse on it.

"Fuck, Alice…"

It's so much like him, yet as formal as he is today, dressed up accordingly and all, the contrast is notable. And hot, Alice thinks to herself.

"Fuck, Alice, darling, won't you…nghh, won't you ride me? I need to have you right now. I need it."

"You don’t even have to ask…"

It's her that guides his hard length into her pulsing core, insides clamping down on him in a way that makes him hiss. Alice gives him little to no time to gain his composure as she starts riding him in earnest.

Thud. Under Fenrir's swift ministrations, the strap of her high heel comes loose until the shoe hits the floor.

The other follows. Thud.

Alice grips Fenrir's shoulders for purchase now, leaping into the newfound chance to enhance the process. She goes as far as to bring her feet up, towering over Fenrir as he supports her with hands gripping on her sides. She seems to be determined to fuck him silly on that couch, not stopping for a second even when Fenrir warns her through raspy praises that he's reaching his limit.

Seeing that she is already having an iron grip around his frame, Fenrir safely acts upon his desire and picks her up, standing up from the couch. He flips them over until she is underneath him, and he holds her hips high in the air.

"Take it all Alice…take all of me…I'm all yours."

It feels good, too good, and it as well could be these words' fault for Alice to tip over the edge as well in that moment. Their shared orgasm is explosive, nails biting into his shoulders and his hips bucking against hers in deep thrusts. Fenrir could feel her core milking him from everything, even after every last drop has been disposed into her depths. He frankly wishes to hold her there forever.

"Now, that was fun."

Fenrir stirs a bit upon hearing her say it, almost as if she voiced out his own thoughts just now.

"Mm. It only lacks a bottle of Godspeed champagne."

Alice tries to fake a protest that would make him chuckle, but she is a bad actor before the reminder that they should go down already. Just like all things fun they got around to doing today, she looks forward to the approaching night around the pool.

Trailing her gaze to the present box set to the side, and then to her boyfriend's blissful face as he helps her in straightening up her dress, Alice finds her answer whether she managed to make him happy this April 15th.

Though, she makes a mental note for the upcoming celebrations to slip in some alone time with Fenrir in their program. Otherwise, things like this might occur again…

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[frogsmulder]

10 Things I Love About You

Mulder persuades Scully to come up to bed after she falls asleep on him by telling ten things he loves about her; about 850 words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic

The first thing Mulder is aware of is the absence of rustling papers; it's eerily quiet like a thick soup of silence. Waking up a little more he peaks an eye open. The night is dark even with the numerous lamps they have lighting their living room; the darkness is as thick as the silence beyond the windows. He has the urge to get up and draw them, to cocoon them in their little house of warmth and light but his back aches and something heavy on top of him is weighing him down. That something moves in her sleep. 

Mulder throws his head back over the side of the couch to look at the clock mounted on the wall behind him. Two in the morning. He groans, his back complains, and Scully snuggles up closer to him seeking out his bodily heat. All around them are the remnants of medical studies and important patient files that she has been working on for the last he doesn't know how many hours. He fell to the tides of slumber long before she had; chewed pencil at her lips and notes in her lap. He had watched her for a while, rubbing her shoulders, listening to her spout her reasoning and humming along, not especially understanding what she was saying. But that didn't stop her, that never stopped them from spring boarding ideas off of each other. 

He rubs her shoulders now, coaxing her from her sleep. "Scully," he whispers.

"Mphhmm," she refuses, burying further into him. 

He brushes her hair away from her eyes and kisses her temple. "Scully, honey, we need to move."

"But I'm comfy." Is her groggy reply as she pulls one of his arms around her body, trapping herself in his embrace, wearing him like a favourite blanket.  

Mulder takes the pencil from her other loose hand and places it on the coffee table. "I love when you're sleepy: you're grouchy."

She snorts defiantly. "M not." 

He chuckles, removing the blanket of papers covering her legs. "I love how you become clingy and cuddly too, even though you'd never admit it fully awake." Resting his chin on top of her head, he signs. "I love how you're so small--" 

That wakes her up. "Mullderrr!" she protests but continues to snuggle into him nonetheless. 

He shushes her soothingly, squeezing her in his arms. "I love it because you fit perfectly under my chin and I get to hold you like we are made for each other."

"That's ridiculous."

"Mhmm, so are you." Looking over her forehead, he can see her eyes closed but she still has enough energy to pull a face at him. "I love when you pout, it's the cutest thing ever. And on the same subject the way you lick your lips when you concentrate is endearing too."

A small chuckle rolls through her body, remembering the many times she has caught him staring from across offices or work meetings, even at her mother's Sunday dinners. Mulder rubs his hands up and down her arms persuasively, trying to get her to rise. Dropping his lips to her ear, his breath tickles the hairs on the back of her neck as he murmurs, "I love the way you think and challenge me and share your ideas" 

Splaying his fingers out over her ribs, he encompasses her torso with the lightest of touches. "I love your laugh--" 

"Don't even think about it." Her voice is stern, a warning accompanied by her own fingers digging under his to free herself. 

Mulder chuckles. "I love how you can read my mind." 

Despite her tone, he tickles her anyway, keeping them both balanced on the couch as she wriggles and flails, tears falling from the corners of her eyes, her laugh ripping through the quiet of the house.

"Stop! Mulder! Stop it!" she half laughs half shouts, breathless. She slaps his arms until they sting bright red, but he doesn't care. Turning around when he finally relents, she faces him panting. 

"I love your eyes. And your lips. And your nose. I love your hair."

At this she arches an eyebrow and he brushes his thumb across the curve. 

"I love your infamous eyebrow."

She smiles and kisses him before he can continue, all sweet and well-intentioned but she can't resist teasing him just a little. When she pulls away, he knows he is wearing a dazed look; in too deep to care that she can reduce him so easily to a simpering puddle of a man. 

"I love the way you kiss me." His voice is low and rich like honey, she tastes his words on her tongue. "I love the way you love me. I love you."

She kisses him again. "That's more than ten things."

"I love everything about you Mrs Dana Katherine Scully." 

"Mhmm." She brushes her noses against his and steals another quick kiss, murmuring against his lips, "I love the way you carry me to bed."

[baronessblixen]

I don't know if you'll like this prompt but, Scully invites Mulder over to her apartment to help her decorate but insists that she should be the one to put the fairy/star on top of the Christmas tree because she's not too short. Mulder helps by lifting her up despite her protests to place the ornament as the crowning piece to their decorations

Ficmas Day 3

Okay so I misread the prompt and the story went a slightly different way. I hope you like it anyway! Set in season 7, wc 1159.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Together We Can Reach The Stars

Scully inviting him over to her apartment under the pretense of needing help decorating is the greatest gift he could have asked for.

And it's not even Christmas yet.

He knocks on her door Saturday morning, balancing two hot coffees to make up for the fact that he's late.

"Come in," Scully says, smiling at him. He follows her inside, slipping off his coat and his shoes as he takes in her un-Scully-like outfit and the transformation of her apartment. There are bright colorful lights everywhere and knick-knacks he's never seen before. Soft Christmas music fills the warm, vanilla-sweet air and makes him crave cookies.

"Excuse me," he says, touching a fuzzy penguin with a Santa hat on its head. "Is this Dana Scully's apartment or the North Pole?"

"Very funny, Mulder. Did you get extra cinnamon on my coffee?" She asks, lifting the lid and breathing in the aroma. She makes an approving noise, humming slightly. Ever since she's made that noise for the first time - it was two weeks ago - he hasn't been able to forget it or think straight. He always remembers her cinnamon.

"In the spirit of Christmas," he says, drawing her attention back to him. "I got the cinnamon special, too." She raises an eyebrow. "Need to know what all the fuss is about, don't I?" Without taking his eyes off her, he sips from his own steaming hot cup. Spicy hot sweetness explodes on his tongue and his eyes grow wide in surprise.

"Shit, this is good."

"I know," she says with a wink. "Thank you for remembering." She gives him that look again. The Look predates the cinnamon by about a week. Or maybe even longer. His memories from right after his botched brain surgery are hazy. He hasn't been able to decipher The Look yet. He doesn't dare to interpret it - in case he's wrong about it.

"So," he says to break the spell between them. "What is it you need me for?"

"The tree." She points at it. The red, green and gold colors sit together perfectly in the large fir. He wonders how Scully got the tree home by herself. Unless she didn't get it home by herself. He stares at the tree, lost in thought. What if someone else helped Scully with the tree and they didn't have time to help her today and he's her second choice? Her third choice even?

"Mulder, are you even listening?" She squeezes his hand, smiling knowingly at him.

"Um, sorry. It's beautiful," he says quickly and it's the truth. Everything Scully touches turns golden, becomes better. He knows because she's touched his life, too. "What do you need me to do?"

"It's missing the star."

"The star?" Scully walks over to the open boxes on her couch that hold even more kitschy decorations and ornaments. How many trees and apartments is she planning on decorating?

"The star that goes on top." She holds up an old faded star that has clearly seen better days. "It used to belong to my grandmother Scully." She gently runs a finger over it, smiling to herself. "My mom gave it to me after... after Emily."

She lifts her head and he sees that her eyes are wet. Christmas isn't easy for her, he knows that. He's already researching places he can bring her this year. Maybe another haunted house, maybe something else entirely. As long as she's distracted.

"I didn't decorate last year," she goes on. "What with being busy with work and then you dragged me to that haunted mansion." He grins sheepishly. "I um, I tried to put the star on top but I'm... tooshorttodoit."

"You what?" He asks, biting his lip to hide his grin.

"Mulder, you heard me."

"No, I didn't. You're what?" He steps closer to her, invading her personal space. She has to crane her neck to give him a stern look.

"Too short," she repeats. "I can't reach the top."

Mulder glances at the tree. It won't even be easy for him to reach the top. How the hell did she get that thing inside?

"Will you please put it on top? For me?"

"Hmm," he says, looking her up and down. "You should do it."

"Mulder, didn't you hear what I just said?"

"I heard you loud and clear. I'll help you, come on." Her expression is full of apprehension but she follows him to the tree, holding the star in her hands.

"Ready?" He asks her.

"For what?" There's a moment of panic in her eyes as he puts his hands on her hips. It goes away as quickly as it appeared and she watches him with parted lips, giving him ideas that have nothing to do with tree decorations and would put him on the naughty list.

"I will lift you so you-"

"Mulder, no."

"Mulder, yes," he says, smiling. "It should be you putting the star on top and since we've established that you're too short to do it on your own... let me help you. Please?"

As soon as Scully nods, Mulder tightens his grip on her and lifts her up. His arms are around her middle and he realizes that he didn't think this through. His cheek is pressed against her sweater - her very tight sweater - and right under her breasts.

"Can you- just a little higher, Mulder."

He closes his eyes in concentration and lifts her higher, his hand moving from her hip and lower, lower until it's on her ass.

His hand is on Scully's butt and he doesn't remember how to breathe.

"Mulder?" She asks with a funny tone in her voice.

"Yes?"

"You can let me down now."

He does - or he tries to. She slides down his front in what seems like slow motion until they're flush against each other, face to face.

"Was your hand just-"

"I'm sorry, Scully," he says quickly. "I wanted to make sure you wouldn't fall down."

"I know," she says easily. "I'm not complaining."

"You're not?"

She shakes her head. They're still pressed against each other, neither of them moving away.

"Thank you for helping me with the star. Let's see if we got it right."

They both turn towards the tree but Mulder keeps his arm looped around Scully's waist.

"Looks good, doesn't it?" She asks him, her voice thick with emotion.

"It looks perfect." And it does. "It's going to look even more beautiful once it's dark outside."

"It will. You're going to stay, right?"

"You didn't just want me here for my exceptional height?"

"No, I want you here because I want you here."

He watches her, speechless. He doubts the tree can compare to her beauty, even with all the lights. Scully is his star, his everything. And maybe tonight he'll test his theory on that look she keeps giving him. There it is again.

"I'd love to stay," he says.