#and i'm on a chair reading a book and getting some sun

[doom-dreaming]

muttering "i will not gatekeep or complain, i will just block and move on" like a mantra to myself at least 5 times a day

[bluetimeombre]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Notice

Sometimes, even the big bad wolf needs his calm, in his case, it's you.

[finally I got the request out for introverted reader. I to love this idea, I do genuinly believe Logan would just love someone he could relax with after all the pain he's been through- like him and Kayla in Wolverine which we don't talk about enough. I hope you enjoy, I tried to get it out quicker but i'm working on other little thing for Hugh and Logan, so keep your eyes out. No warnings for this, accept fluff and a little angst cause i'm a sucker for it.]

Logan couldn't pin point the moment he noticed you but once he had, there was no going back.

Everything- everyone- in the mansion was hard to handle. All 100% all the time. Storm, the Professor, even Jean grated him enough of the times. With their insistence he join the team, with the nagging, the missions, the danger rooms, the blah blah blah.

So when he was out for a run, blowing the steam Scott had given him that morning, and he spotted you surrounded by students, huddled by a tree, he paused. He very almost ran into a kid as he did, squinting at you as you practically glowed in the sun.

Was that your mutation? To glow? To capture his attention?

You were showing the kids something, and they all listened, enamoured. As he would be, with your smile, your ... calm.

You caught him staring and faltered. He only crossed his arms over his chest and watched as you tried to continue teaching. Eventually, you set the class on some task and Logan slowly made his way to you.

"Hello Logan," you greeted.

He didn't know why it surprised him you knew his name, you must have been here longer than he had for you to teach. He watched you as you watched the children, noticing how you pulled at the sleeves of your jumper down over your hands. "What are they doin'?" he asked, gesturing to the kids.

"Just learning about life," you mumbled. That was your mutation, a connection the nature, to the trees and the very life that hummed under you.

So very different to him, who took life with the swipe of his claws.

"I'll er, see you," you added before walking away from him.

Logan couldn't shake you for the rest of the day. He walked by your class room later, saying hello to you. He never had before. That night, he found he couldn't sleep and he walked by your bedroom which just so happened to be on his way. The door was open ajar and you were no where to be seen.

You were down in the kitchen, sitting in an armchair by the window with a book in your lap and a steaming how cup of coffee next to you. He approached quietly, watching from the doorway as you were bathed in moonlight.

Eventually, as you went to grab your hot coffee, you spotted him. "Logan?" you spilled a bit over your hand, seething and putting it down. "Sorry, I- I didn't see you there."

He smirked. "Kinda the idea."

He ducked under a counter and pulled out a beer from his secret stash. He took some kitchen roll as he did before walking over to you, gesturing down to the empty chair across from you.

You nodded and he sat, taking the cap of the beer with his teeth and spitting it on the floor. "We don't have beer here," you said.

Logan raised a brow. "No? huh," he took a swig, watching you. "Here." he put his beer next to your coffee and takes your hand, wiping away the coffee.

"I'm ok," you mumble, though letting him dab it away.

"Just making sure, bub," he said, glancing up at you. You'd closed the book but kept a finger where he'd interrupted. "What are you reading?"

You seemed shocked that he asked as you have to think for a moment. "Oh just um, a book."

"A book, huh?" he hummed.

"A book," you repeated.

"What's it about?" he asked, leaning back and taking his beer again.

You shake your head, curling into yourself. "It's just about... art history. Read it?"

He smirked. "I don't read."

You nod, pursing your lips and adjusting the book in your lap. Your head, turned down.

He watched your for a second. He saw your eyes turn around the page but you didn't seem to be taking it in. He sipped his beer and tried to think of another way to start a conversation with you. Not that the silence wasn't welcome, it was after all the noise of the day, but he wanted to hear your voice. He wanted to know your voice even when he knew nothing else. "Wanna know how I snuck beer in this place?"

You glanced up at him, closing your book again. "Do I want to know?"

"Well, it's a neat little trick," he said, spinning the bottle around.

"And if Charles's comes snooping?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Then there's plenty of kids for me to blame it on," he said. "C'mon, you telling me you're not a rule breaker?"

You laugh at the very idea. "No. No, i'm not."

"Why not? Afraid you might get a taste for it?" he teased.

You blushed and he found delight in that.

Most nights, that how it went. In the day he was dealing with everyone's bullshit and at night he'd find you in your chair, reading or what you called crocheting. You even tried to teach him once but in a fit of anger that he couldn't get it, his claws slashed out and tore it.

Logan apologised but to his delight you laughed only.

In the day he always sort you out, or watched from afar as you taught, or sat in the sun. You never participated in danger room sessions. But you were no less a friend to Ororo or Jean, sometimes he'd catch you outside with Scott, talking and laughing and he found he'd never wanted to rip Summer's head from him more.

"I didn't know you and Summer's were... close," he said one night the two of you were in the kitchen. You were hunched over paper, drawing whatever you could see in the dark garden while he fixed himself up a sandwich.

"We've worked together for years," you said, "we were in the same classes together too."

"And you don't find him a pain in the ass?" he asked.

You chuckled. "Not as much as you, Logan, I expect."

Logan hummed a laugh and came over to you, offering you half the sandwich.

You peered at him and he insisted. “I’m not hungry.”

“You barley ate anything at lunch, c’mon, it’s my speciality.”

In the night, the two of you ate in silence, simply enjoying each others company.

Logan was simply fine admiring you for half the night. "Why don't you talk much?"

You glance is way, pulling your sweater back down. "I just don't have much to say."

"C'mon, i'm sure you do," he said. "Seems like everyone always has something to say round here.”

“I don’t have anything useful to contribute,” you shrug, taking a bite of what he made for you.

Something like pride filled him. He didn’t know that doing the plain old domestic stuff could mean so much to him, because when it was only him, he never cared, but you, god, there was no limit to what he felt for you. “That’s not true,” he said, leaning over closer to you. “Wanna hear every thought that pops into that pretty little head.”

You glance his way, blushing. You swallow your food and wipe away the crumbs. “And why is that, Logan?”

He frowned at the question. “Because it’s you. I-I like you, bub. Better than anyone else in this place,” he said. This place wasn’t descriptive enough for him. “I like you most in the whole world.”

After that little confession that had you stunned, Logan was all over you. Most the days when he has nothing to do he followed you around like a puppy, even chose to help out in classes just to be close to you.

It was worth every second, just to hear your voice and see you get passionate.

Slowly, you started to note this and finally opened up to him more. You’d talk about the books you were reading or invite him to your favourite spots in the garden. You’d even tried to crochet for him.

It was peace, and in his life time of war, Logan never thought he’d deserve it.

But peace never lasted long for him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The mission was supposed to be a quick and done deal: investigate the factory and rescue any mutants stuck, but he hadn’t accounted for the mutant who poisoned his mind.

He was in the pale corridors of the facility before his mind took him to the mansion. It was wrecked, holes in walls and windows shattered. There was blood splattered like a painting. Slowly, he wondered the corridors, every step a tremble.

There were children, lying in blood, as well as Storm, Jean, Scott, but then, there was you.

Logan screamed. Logan yelled, he fell to his knees and crawled the rest of the way there. To you. His skin was was soaking in your blood, his hands clawing to get to you, to bring in your body to his. He cried out, nuzzilng his face in your neck.

It didn't feel like a dream, it felt painfully real. It wasn't until there was a searing pain in the back of his head that his eyesight blurred and the blood was gone, so were you.

"It wasn't real, Logan," said Scott, pulling him up. "It was just a dream. It wasn't real."

Logan couldn't register who was pulling him up, or who was talking to him. As his vision cleared, he looked for you and all he knew was that he couldn't find you. "Y-Y/N?"

"She's at home, Logan, c'mon." Scott managed to assort the rest of the team and get them to the jet before flying at a never before seen speed to get back to the mansion.

Logan's knee jittered as he remembered your voice. As he remembered your smile and the way you blushed whenever he looked at you long enough. The soft brush of your touch and the scent your hair carried in the wind. He tried to remember it all, as if when he returns, you won't be there.

Before the jet had even landed, as the sun rose over the school, Logan was jumping out and stalking into the place. He tried not to run, not to give into the urgency.

He went to your bedroom first, but you weren't there. Your sheets were tossed aside and it was empty. So was your classroom.

The sweat started rolling down as he looked around. It was so early, nobody else was up but he was sure with his heavy steps and ragged breaths, he was waking everyone up.

"Y/N? no, no, no," he mumbled. He eventually made it out, taking deep gulps of air and searching the grounds.

You stood with your back to him, a blanket wrapped around you and bathing in the soft light.

"Y/N?"

By the time you'd turned around, Logan was already catapulting into you, sweeping you from your feet and bringing you into his chest. His hand tangled in your hair, breathing you in.

"Logan?" you mumbled, arms awkwardly coming around him. "Everything alright?"

His head shook. "I thought... I thought you-" he found the strength to pull away from you, taking in every detail like he'd never see you again. "I missed you, bub."

There was accusation in your eyes but you didn't voice them. Instead, your knuckles brushed his cheek, smoothing away the lines of stress.

That night, with his head in your lap, you read to him. And Logan knew, nothing would ever happen to you.

He would make sure of it.

taglist (thank you! let me know if you want to be added for more hugh and logan or removed): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory

[mechaknight-98]

Extreme Sports (NSFW) FT Jiheon

Author's Note: … Challenge accepted @authorhjk1 you caused this so I pass the baton to you

Jiheon’s shoulders slumped as she walked up to her apartment door, exhaustion tugging at every step. The day had been a whirlwind of energy, lights, and endless cheers at the Kia Tigers stadium, where she’d spent hours promoting and performing with her usual vibrant charm. But now, all she wanted was to slip into something comfortable and unwind.

She fumbled with the key in her hand, her mind still buzzing with the echoes of the crowd. As the door clicked open, the familiar scent of her favorite dish greeted her—a warm, savory aroma that instantly lifted her spirits.

Stepping inside, she found the lights dimmed just enough to create a cozy atmosphere. The living room, which usually held the remnants of your shared hobbies, was immaculately tidy, with a small table set up in the center. There, laid out perfectly, was her favorite food—her mouth watered at the sight.

But what caught her eye next made her heart swell. Off to the side, you had arranged her reading set up, complete with her preferred snacks and a comfortable chair. Her favorite book was already there waiting for her to open it.

A tired smile spread across Jiheon’s face as she took it all in. You had thought of everything—every detail designed to help her unwind and recharge after a long day. She kicked off her shoes, feeling the tension in her body ease as she made her way to the kitchen, where she knew you'd be waiting with that familiar grin.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude and affection as she wrapped her arms around you from behind.

You turned around, chuckling. “Anything for my favorite homebody. Now, go enjoy yourself. Everything’s ready.”

Jiheon pulled back, her eyes shining with appreciation. “You really are the best,” she said before heading to the table, her heart lighter, the weariness of the day already fading into the background. She ate happily as you finished the dishes used to make the meal. She watched you work diligently. She considered proposing to you since you had been together for 2 years now having met at a book signing event of a mutual favorite author.

“You know babe, you'd make a great house husband. Would you like to be mine?”

You laugh and turn around your pink and blue apron she got you as a gag gift for your birthday gets splashed with dishwater as you do so, “oh is that a proposal?” you tease. Jiheon nods happily.

“Oh well then in that case where's the ring? The fancy gesture. I'm not some cheap man or a hussy you know,” you joke.

Jiheon’s smile intensified as her eyes narrowed at you. She gets up and moves closer to you after finishing her food. Her eyes are seductive, hungry,

“So you're not saying no?” she teases raising an eyebrow.

You smile and say “I'm down if you are.” Jiheon’s smile changes as she begins to daydream about her wedding to you.

She walked closer to you so you could get a good look at her in all her glory.

Jiheon twirled to you in her pretty crop top Jersey. You smiled at her. "How do I look?" she asked.

you smiled and said, "Sexy as hell," Jiheon smiled back at you.

"you always know the right words to say, babe," she says

you laugh and say, "Really is that all it took to make you smile?" Jiheon's brighter-than-the-sun eye smile got you as it always does as she sits next to you. She came to your apartment after promoting at the game. She was tired and her introverted traits were forcing her to need a recharge, and your place was always so quiet and peaceful. An introvert's palace of sorts. she waddles to your couch to nuzzle closer to you. Certainly! Here’s a scene where Jiheon and her boyfriend discuss potential wedding plans, building on the playful proposal:

Later that evening, after the dishes were done and the last traces of dinner were tidied away, Jiheon and her boyfriend curled up together on the couch. The soft glow of the lamp bathed them in warmth as Jiheon rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his arm.

“So… about that house husband thing,” you began with a smirk, breaking the comfortable silence.

Jiheon chuckled softly, tilting her head to look up at him. “What about it?”

“Well, you seemed pretty serious earlier,” he teased, “and I was thinking… if you’re going to propose, we might as well start planning, right?”

Jiheon’s heart fluttered at your words, and she sat up a bit straighter, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You mean it? You’d really want to start planning a wedding?”

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. “Why not? We’ve been together for two years, and I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather spend my life with. So, what do you think? How should our wedding be?”

Jiheon’s mind raced with possibilities. She had never been one to dream too much about weddings, but now, with you, it felt different—more real. “Well… I’ve always imagined something small and intimate,” she began, her voice soft as she painted the picture in her mind. “Just close friends and family, maybe somewhere outdoors. A garden or by the beach.”

You nodded along, picturing the scene she was describing. “I like that. Something simple but beautiful, just like us.”

Jiheon’s smile grew. “And I’d want the reception to be fun—lots of music, good food, and maybe even a little karaoke for old times’ sake.”

You raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Karaoke at a wedding? You really are full of surprises.”

“Of course! I want our wedding to be a reflection of who we are, not just some formal event. And besides, I can’t imagine getting married without a little singing involved,” Jiheon said, her tone playful but sincere.

You leaned in, kissing her gently on the forehead. “I love that idea. And you know what? We should also write our own vows. Something that’s just between us, you know?”

Jiheon’s heart melted at the thought. “I love that. I’d want our vows to be something special, something that really captures what we mean to each other.”

You smile then remind her, “Since you proposed this though I'm still gonna need the ring,” you say in a joking tone and Jiheon one-ups you.

“Oh, don't you worry I'm going to get you the best ring ever. Every other wife is going to be so jealous of my househusband,” she says proudly,

“Oh and how are you going to pay for it?”

“Simple after we renew our contracts and become as big as Twice I'm gonna go to a jewelry brand (because obviously I'll be an ambassador) and buy you the cutest ring.” Jiheon asserts and you laugh at her enthusiasm.

She finds her favorite spot on the couch (draped along your body with her chin in the crook of your neck). She found much-needed rest. As you listened to her breathing your mind made you consider how proud you were of her, but also how her body perfectly fit into yours. The more you thought about the more your desire for her grew. Jiheon noticed the change in the atmosphere immediately and fell into a similar feeling she began to unconsciously grind her honey pot on your crotch the friction pushing both of you further down the desire rabbit hole.

You were the first to break, “fuck honey I need you. You say and Jiheon Smiles as she gets up removing her pants and top.

“You know there's this extreme sport I've been wanting to try,” Jiheon says seductively

Your eyes narrow and you ask, “Oh, and what is that,”

“Raw Sex” Jiheon cooed before taking your pants off. She admires your rod and says, "My husband has such a nice cock." You blush as she slides up and lowers herself onto your rod. She moans elated.

"God I forget how big you are." she moans, as she begins rolling her hips on top of you. You get a first-row view to watch as she humps and grinds on you as she looks for that sweet spot. As she searches your hand moves to her clit to give her that extra push, and she jolts. her eyes narrow as she locks eyes with you.

"More!" she moans as she rides you with greater intensity. you nod as you go further and further into pleasure with her. Her walls begin to tighten as she moves around you. The sound of her skin against yours and her angelic moans are music to your ears as you encourage her to cum with your body.

as she gets closer a thin layer of sweat builds on her body making her shine even brighter. you smile as she pulls you in for a kiss. her lips taste like the meal you just made for her. you smile as she breaks the kiss.

what sends you over the edge is when she says, "Is my house husband gonna cum with me." when she says that the both of your tumble into the pleasure spiral as she squirts all over your cock and you paint her guts white. you smile when it's all said and done, and say,

"you know what if everytime is gonna be like that then maybe I don't need the ring." Jiheon rolls her eyes before the two of you pass out on your couch.

[hurtspideyparker]

Avengers Beach Day !

Tony is under a large beach umbrella, sat on a comfortable chair in bright red swim shorts and a flowy floral cover up. He has a large cooler with drinks, sandwiches and pickles. Also chips. Pepper is beside him reading a book about sustainability.

Natasha is in a simple black two piece swimsuit with large sunglasses, soaking in the sun.

"If anybody stares at my ass I will drown you and make sure your body never washes ashore," she warns as she lays out a towel and stretches out in the sun.

Peter and Thor are the first in the water, but only after Steve makes sure everyone has sunscreen on. "The water actually amplifies the harmful UV rays, so you should reapply in an hour. Don't worry, I'll remind you."

Peter and Clint tell Thor about chicken fighting, which delights him, and they are able to convince Steve to join so they can play. Peter sits on Thor's shoulders, and Clint on Steve's. It takes 4 rounds before Clint realizes Peter is cheating by sticking to Thor so he won't fall down. Peter and Thor switch places, but Thor still wins every time because well... muscles.

-

Bruce sets himself up on a blanket with a book but ends up falling asleep within twenty minutes. He sleeps for 2 hours and gets severely sunburnt.

-

Sam and Bucky sit down in two matching chairs a respectable distance apart, sunglasses on. Bucky is completely still for so long that Sam peeks over to see if he's asleep, his body casting a shadow over the soldier.

"Sam, I swear to god."

"Alright alright just checking, don't get your panties in a twist!"

-

Steve ends up floating around in the water peacefully, spread out like a starfish, while Clint and Peter show off their underwater handstand abilities to Thor. When Thor tries one for himself he ends up kicking Steve in the face. Peter and Clint can't stop laughing while Thor apologizes.

-

Natasha eventually joins the boys in the water, in which Clint begs her to play chicken with him because "all these guys are cheating super freaks!"

Natasha gets on Steve's shoulder and Clint on Thor's.

Natasha wins every round.

Clint grumpily complains about losing for the next half hour until he's distracted by food. (Tony makes fun of him for being such a loser on the ride home and Clint doesn't stop talking about how all his friends are freaks for the next 3 days).

-

Tony calls everyone in for some snacks and drinks, and Peter shakes his wet hair out all over Tony.

"Hey, hey! Watch where you shake that thing, I will hold your sandwich hostage!"

"You can't go to the beach and not get wet Mr. Stark, you're so spoiled. I barely talked you out of bringing that big ugly tent, it was practically a house."

"That's it. Thor, have another ham and cheese," he says as he tosses the sandwich to the god.

"No wait I take it back! Thor stop that's mine!"

-

Afterwards Peter finds a spot with damp sand to start building a castle.

"What are you, five?" Sam asks.

"Hey! I just found these old buckets on the shore and thought it would be fun."

"Mhm, keep telling yourself that boy scout."

"Like you could do any better!"

They stare at each other for a moment.

"Imma 'bout to whoop your ass so hard kid," Sam says as he snatches a bucket from Peter and gets to work a few feet away.

-

Bruce rolls over in his sleep like a gas station hot dog. His other side gets sunburnt.

-

"Kid, I'm ready for a swim. Kid?"

"Not now Mr. Stark, I'm in a sand castle building competition!"

Tony stares down at the teenager with his wild curls covered in sand, filling up a neon pink bucket.

"... move over. Where's your moat? You can't expect to win without a moat."

"The water just absorbs back into the ground," Peter says with a frown.

"Hm. We need insulation. Go back into the water and get stones and kelp. And driftwood for the drawbridge. How much time do we have? Can I get my tools?"

"Hey!" Sam yells, "you can't have help! And definitely no genius engineering toolkit."

"Fine, no tools. But I'm allowed Mr. Stark! Just get someone to help you too," Peter replies as he runs off into the water.

"Son of a- Barnes! Get your ass over here! We need to teach this spiderling some manners."

-

"You should reapply your sunscreen," Steve says while hovering near Natasha lying on her towel.

"Touch me and lose your hand."

-

"Tony, the sun's going to set soon, let's go for a nice walk down the beach."

"Not now Pepper, I gotta finish this brickwork," he says with his face millimeters from the sand as he chisels.

"I wanna go for a romantic walk with my partner. The sunset doesn't wait for anyone, even you Tony Stark."

"Mhm, sure after I finish this battlement."

Pepper huffs.

"Whatever, I'll just go with Natasha."

-

"BRUCE, YOU DIDN'T REAPPLY!"

"Wuh- ow, OW OW OW OW OW OW-"

-

"Okay, times up!" Peter announces.

Tony, Bucky, Peter and Sam all stand up. They step back, scrutinizing each other's work.

"Well obviously ours is better. We have a functional drawbridge," Tony is the first to point out.

"You guys are such freaking nerds. Ours is prettier, and taller. Buck found these beautiful baby conch shells," Sam points out.

"We need judges. Thor!" Peter calls out.

-

"Let's stop here for a second, I need to buy some aloe vera," Natasha points out as she and Pepper pass by a small street of local shops near the beach front.

"Oh, are you feeling burned?"

"No it's for Bruce."

"Now that I think about it, I haven't seen him much today."

Natasha keeps her smirk to herself, purchasing the soothing lotion before heading back out to the street.

"Maybe on our way home we can get some ice cream," Natasha says as she points out the shop. "Bet Cap would like some butter pecan."

Pepper giggles.

-

"Ah, finally, Nat! We need a third judge for our sandcastle competition," Sam waves her over as she and Pepper rejoin the group.

"You have Bruce, Thor, and Steve, what do you need me for?"

"Steve is corrupted!" Peter chimes in.

"He's a partisan of the veteran best friends party. For all we know Bucky used his secret Cap knowledge to rig their castle to the ice pop's liking," Tony explains.

Peter sets his glare onto the man in question, "bet you just go crazy for conch, don't you Steve."

"I'd really rather not be apart of this conversation," Steve tells them.

Bucky turns to the women. "Thor voted for us, and Bruce voted for them. You're the tie-breaker Nat."

Natasha hands the bottle of lotion to Bruce who thanks her sheepishly as she steps up to the castles. She circles them slowly, ducking her head and taking in every crevice.

"Functional?" she asks, pointing at the drawbridge.

"Yes ma'am," Tony smirks.

She steps up to the opposing castle.

"You buy these?" she points to the sea shells adorning the castle.

Bucky lifts his chin, "nope, swam for em. All the work was my own, just short of evicting the previous tennants."

Natasha nods before stepping back.

"I've made my decision. The winner..." they all hold their breath, even Pepper and Steve who have no stakes in the the competition.

"Is Tony and Peter."

Cheers errupt, along with the very loud complaining of the two losers.

"Oh come on man! Ours is bigger, and prettier!" Sam protests.

"Oh really Sam? Is size all that matters? Stark's is functional. I don't know about you but I like a little personality beneath the pretty pretty decorations."

Peter pumps his fists in the air with a "woohoo!" before launching himself at Natasha in tight hug.

"I knew I liked you," Tony interjects as he joins the pair's hug, placing a kiss on both Natasha and Peter's temple.

Bucky rolls his eyes at the gesture and hides an affectionate smile.

"Yeah yeah," Natasha chimes, "let's get out of here so you can buy us ice cream."

-

"What are you gonna go for Rogers? Butter pecan?"

Natasha and Pepper snicker at Tony's comment as they collect their own ice creams from the worker; a chocolate peanut butter cone and a raspberry and lemon sorbet respectively.

"Tony..."

"No, no, I got this. Butterscotch? Rum raisin? Pistachio?"

"I'll have you know my taste buds are very modern. Peter showed me this Thai place and now I'm a regular."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Tony says while grabbing his coffee ice cream.

-

"Kid you're making it too easy. You are genuinely a freaking toddler," Sam says when he spots Peter licking a bubblegum ice cream cone.

"If having a personality is childish then it's no wonder you got cookies and cream, ahembasicbitch." Peter coughs the insult out.

"How dare you, you overgrown Little Tikes ad-"

-

Bucky licks his mint chocolate chip ice cream contentedly in the back of the shop while he watches the others fight.

"What do you think they're on about now?" Clint asks from his left.

Bucky glances at the bubblegum cone in the archer's hand.

"No clue."

-

"AHAHHHAAH"

"What! Vanilla is the best flavour!" Steve tries to argue, although Tony's own laughter rings louder than all other conversation in the room.

"M-modern taste buds AH haha-"

-

Bruce watches with awe and slight concern as Thor happily licks his 3 scoop tall rocky road contentedly.

"You hungry man?"

"Aye, I do enjoy the mallow."

Bruce watches the tower lean in every direction, almost falling several times and looking more dismal with every lick.

He almost says something, but Thor always angles the cone perfectly just in time to save it. Instead, he watches silently while scooping a spoonful of cookie dough from his cup.

-

It seems they got the rest of their bickering out at the shop, as with tired and heat-soaked limbs they pile onto the jet for the ride home.

Tony looks back like a mom driving a mini-van.

"The baby's asleep," he smirks at Pepper who looks back at Peter.

The teenager is dead asleep, mouth wide open and head resting on Natasha's shoulder. She glares when she catches Tony's eyes on the pair and he looks away, glancing at the other passengers.

"I could've sworn Bruce's whole schtick was green. Is he rebranding to red?"

Steve looks over at Tony with a shameful pout, "he forgot to reapply."

Tony quirks an eyebrow but doesn't comment, settling back to cuddle with Pepper.

"Mission success," he whispers into her hairline with a soft kiss.

[rhiannswork]

hii i was wondering if u could write something about a pool party that morgan throws, so ofc bau!reader and the rest of the team goes. spencer gets in the pool and everybody is speechless when they notice the scratches on his back. unbeknown to your involvement.

the water’s fine.

spencer ᕁ bau!reader

warnings: allusions to sex, suggestive if you squint with a monocle, smart reid (i did some research for that btw lolol), private relationships, hmm i think that’s it!

"hey, yln made it after all!" morgan exclaimed while relaxing by the pool, drink in hand. "sorry, guys. i had a bit of trouble finding a good bathing suit," you explained, not entirely truthful about the reason for your tardiness. in reality, you and spencer got sidetracked once you found the perfect suit, causing both of you to arrive late. yet somehow, spencer managed to beat you to morgan’s location.

as morgan gestured towards spencer, he reassured, "don’t worry, pretty boy just arrived." emily found it amusing, asking "who reads at a pool party?" while opening her soda can. "spencer reid does," jj responded as she sat beside the pool with her feet dangling in the water, earning a laugh from penelope who was sunbathing on a unicorn float.

"hey derek, do you have any more of those floats? i think i’m going to get in the pool." you placed your bag by the patio table and started to apply some sunblock. "sure thing, i’ll go inflate it." "thank you!" you shouted as he walked away from the group.

as you applied the rest of your sunblock, you couldn't help but notice the chatter of your colleagues. you walked over to spencer, who was deep into reading his book. "hey handsome," you whispered, making sure only he could hear you. spencer raised his head, squinting as he blocked the sun with his hand. "hi baby," he replied with the same volume. "are you planning to get in the pool, or will you stay here and read?" you giggled. "i’m going to finish this book," he said with a shrug. "suit yourself!" you walked off.

soon after, morgan returned holding a heart-shaped floatie which he handed to you before returning to his chair. you threw the floatie into the pool and gradually got in after it. descending the pool steps, you winced as the cold water rushed over your body. "why is it always freezing when you first get in the pool?" you complained as you reached for the heart-shaped floatie.

“the cold going into the pool is actually a result of conduction of heat. see, water is a much better conductor of heat rather than air. energy can flow from your body quicker than it would if you were surrounded by air at the same temperature. even if the water is much warmer than the air, you would still feel cool getting in.” spencer answered your rhetorical question.

"let’s not ask reid any science questions today," penelope giggled as she took a sip of her soda can. "my apologies," he chuckled, refocusing on the final chapter of his book. you shook your head and repositioned yourself in the float, finally finding a comfortable spot.

"spencer, come join us in the pool, the water is great!" jj exclaimed, eyeing the artificial waterfall nearby. "but I'm not finished with my book," spencer whined. "if he doesn't want to swim, that's okay," you shrugged as you started to float around in the pool.

he’s knows you, he’s caught on to what he calls the ‘yn trend’. when you say “that’s okay, it’s fine” he knows what you really mean. he huffed and placed his book down and walked over to the pool.

"i knew you would," you teased as you made your way to the edge of the pool. spencer removed his shirt and you couldn't help but keep your eyes on his body. "wow, spence! you’ve got the body and the brains," penelope commented, lifting her sunglasses for a better look.

"i’ll only be here for a few minutes," he muttered before diving into the pool. the sudden rush of coldness left him shivering, but he quickly adjusted and began to swim around. as he explored the refreshing waters, he found himself falling in love with the pool.

"spence what’s going on with your back?" jj tilted her head. spencer turned to face jj and emily, who had come over. emily commented, "it’s so red." spencer lifted up slightly and morgan asked, "pretty boy, are you allergic to chlorine? you should've told me earlier." "i’m not allergic! i don't know what you guys are talking about." he raised his voice, combing his wet hair back.

you hadn’t been paying much attention to the conversation that had erupted about spencer’s back. you looked over to see penelope inspecting him. “it looks like scratches… reid are you seeing someone?”

you could tell that spencer was caught off guard by penelope’s question. he stuttered a bit before responding, "uh, no, i’m not seeing anyone." penelope didn't seem convinced. “okay i know i’m not a profiler like you guys but this doesn’t just happen.” she traced the scratches with the pad of her finger.

you watched spencer becoming slightly uncomfortable with the questions of his dating status. “spencer, let’s go see if it really is scratches from fingernails.” you slipped off the plastic float and went to grab a towel to wrap around your body. spencer followed you into morgan’s home and slid the patio door to limit the cool air from coming in.

“jesus, did i really do that?” you spun spencer around to look at his back. “you did.” he chuckled throwing his head down. “‘m sorry…” you felt a little guilty, you didn’t mean for him to become a target of interrogation.

“don’t worry about it… i like it when i make you feel good.” he smiled with his hand on your face, his thumb slightly grazing your face. “yeah?” you slightly smiled. “mhm.” you reached for his lips until you heard the door open.

“and now we know who the culprit is.” morgan laughed with a empty glass of piña colada of his hand.

[mybworlds]

Everything's gonna be okay

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: Joel just had an argue with Ellie, when he comes back home you find a way to help him relax.

Warnings: established relationship, lot of fluff, use of petnames, use of you, videogame references.

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

The sun was setting when Joel returned to your house. You were waiting for him sitting on the sofa. Joel came back with heavy foot and laid on a chair on the porch. You were reading one of the few novels Joel found during his last patrol not to far from Jackson with Tommy and other few men. You saw the light on the porch and closed the book joining him.

When you greeted him and looked at his face you immediately understood that something unpleasant had just happened. Indeed, his somber expression meant a thing only, he had had an argue with Ellie. No one had the power to hurt him like Ellie, that little girl was so hard sometimes.

He sat down at his wooden chair, elbows resting on his legs "Joel..." you said kneeling before him to look him in his eyes, his eyes were so sad and full of tears, you took his face in your hands, "She's a grown-up kid, now, Joel. Give her some time."

You knew what Joel did in that hospital, you knew he saved her because he learned to love that kid and he didn't want to loose another person who means to him. You knew all the horrible things he did for her, but you knew what Ellie did to Joel and the way she changed him.

"Please, come in, my love." you said placing your hands on his big warm hands.

"Okay, babe." he whispered getting up and following you inside.

You closed the door behind you. The two of you sitted on the couch, Joel was lying placing his head on your thighs and you caressed his dark curls. This was a your habit since a while, since he had a hard time with Ellie or after a long patrol or after his work day as a carpenter. You knew how to help him.

You slowly caressed his soft hair with a very slow motion that let him closed his brown eyes, then you let your hand run along his forehead, his angular nose, his patchy beard and then you place a your fingertip on his plushy lips that he kissed. Then you kissed him back, "I love you, my love" you said.

You knew Joel wasn't the kind of guy who likes to say these things, but you needed to tell him because you wanted to let him feel all the love he could receive from you.

He mumbled an I love you back against your lips while you brought your lips closer to his, you loved to kiss Joel because every time he kissed you he put a hand through your hair causing you shivers and because you knew that deep down he needed love.

" 's that coffee?" he asked sniffing the air with a huge smile on his face, you nodded with a shy smile "You always know how to help me or make me feel better even though..." he stared at the ceiling losing his sweet smile "I know I messed things up with Ellie, she's still mad at me."

"I know... but I'm sure, she'll understand, my love."

He looked in your eyes "You sure?"

You nodded, "Give her a few weeks or maybe a few patrols and the two of you will be buddies like before," you said in an attempt to cheer him up.

"I hope so." he said.

"You want a cup of coffee?" he nodded then you got off the couch and when you were in the kitchen you shook your head. Joel cared so much for that little girl, you had no idea if Ellie could really forgive him, but as Joel you too hoped time could fix their relationship.

You came back handing him his cup, "Thank you," you kissed him and he kissed you back, it was a quick kiss, but later you’d give him more kisses in your bed.

He sipped a few times his coffee, then he got off the couch saying "I’m gonna play a lil..." you saw him got his guitar and go out onto the porch, you looked at him with a sad smile. A few moments later, you heard him sing that sad song and you felt your heart breaks.

Despite your love, you were well aware that there were some wounds in his soul that you couldn't completely heal. Initially, Joel rarely spoke, barely saying a few words, then over time, you learned to know him, understand him and accept hin for who he was and you loved every single aspect of him, even his flaws. You remembered about your different movie nights with Joel and Ellie, it was something the three of you used to do almost every night and every night it was so funny. Ellie used to sit cross-legged and after a few minutes she started to laugh or to comment what you watched using a nasty language that made you smile and often meet your eyes with him. He loved so much that girl.

You heard footsteps, but you intentionally didn't come out. By now you recognized those steps and then to confirm your doubts, you heard her voice.

It was Ellie.

The two of them had lots to talk about so you gave them some privacy and went upstairs, took a quick shower and then climbed into bed.

You had just dozed off when he entered the room, you heard him take off his boots and take off his clothes, then quickly wash himself and finally join you.

He hugged you tightly to him with one arm around your waist and placed his head on your shoulder, "My love" you said, turning partially towards him, he stuck his nose in your hair, deeply inhaling your scent. With one hand he moved the strap of your pajamas, his beard teasing your soft skin as he kissed your shoulder causing you to giggle “I love you.” he whispered in your ear, you searched for his mouth and found it immediately.

You loved him, and still love him, so much.

"Did something happen?" you asked him after exchanging kisses, cuddles, caresses, looks full of love and lust, while you stood with your head resting between his shoulder and his chest "You in a good mood."

Joel tenderly scratched the skin at the base of your scalp, "You were right, maybe things with Ellie can really work out." you looked at his face, even though it was semi-dark, you could see his eyes shining with joy and you couldn't help but smile at him and feel happy for him "Darlin', now I have everything. A home, you by my side, my brother's here close to me and things with Ellie will slowly be able to work out."

"You're so beautiful when you smile," you told him, caressing his face marked by age, "I love you,"

"I love you too, baby girl," he said, holding you in his strong arms, cradling you all night long.

"Will you stay with me tomorrow morning? Maybe you could help me prepare something to take to the inn." you suggest giving him a kiss on his bare chest.

"I'd like to, but tomorrow I have another patrol with Tommy." he sighed "A lot of snow is forecast, but I will be back in the afternoon and I promise I will eat your excellent vegetable stew."

You smiled at him shaking your head "You hate vegetables,"

"Yeah, but I would make an exception for you, my love." he said kissing you while you started caressing him again.

A/N This is a kind of missing moment between that famous ball evening and the day that you all unfortunately know, if you know, you know. There are references to Ellie and Joel relationship in the videogame, hope you like it.

[rambling-at-midnight]

omg a part 2????

i loved it so much!!!

Ahh I'm so glad you liked it!!! It's my first Jason x reader fic :) Here's a part 2!

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks (Part 2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Civilian!Reader

Summary: Now it’s time for a meet-ugly-ish with some dude named Jason. Also, you see the Red Hood again.

Word count: 6.3k (holy shit)

You’re not crazy, right? It’s weird that the library is completely empty because it closes in two hours and the weather is actually nice outside for once, and some random dude wanders in and sets up two seats down from you. He’s not even here to study; he pulled out a sci-fi novel as soon as he sat down.

Who comes to a GCU campus library to read recreationally? The seats are uncomfortable and plastic. And the sun is shining. Everyone else is outside soaking up the Vitamin D.

Honestly, you’re mostly surprised the chair he’s on didn’t snap as soon as he sat. The dude is huge. Football player huge. Shouldn’t he be at practice, instead of forcing the chair to make the most irritating squeaking noises known to man every time he moves an inch?

You grit your teeth and put on your headphones, but you can still hear the poor chair’s dying lamentations, so you turn on an instrumental playlist that hopefully won’t distract you too much from studying.

You let yourself stew over the annoyance until your stomach growls so loud you hear it over the soft music. He has the good grace not to look at you, but you definitely see him pause.

Okay, you’ll call it even. This is what you get for running to the library right after six hours of classes. You need to cement the knowledge in your mind while it’s still fresh, and if that means you have to forego lunch…

He’s still there two hours later when the closing time alarm goes off. It’s a shrill old-school bell, the kind no one can ignore, and he jumps like he’s never heard it in his life. The poor chair finally gives up. He tumbles to the ground.

You look over in case he needs any help, but he’s scrambling for the book, face bright red.

If he is a football player, you wouldn’t be surprised that he’s never heard the bell before. That sort rarely stays this late at the library—if they enter at all.

He rushes out. You pack up a little more methodically. All that’s left for you to look forward to tonight is trying to study in your apartment, but you never have much luck.

He’s outside the library on his phone when you walk out. Maybe waiting for a ride? You’re a little on edge from the events of two days ago, so you watch him out of the corner of your eye as you walk away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t follow you.

At least the library closes earlier on Wednesdays, 6 pm instead of 9:30. You don’t know why. It’s still a weekday. But it forces you out while the sun’s still shining, which is probably a good thing.

Within two minutes of the twenty-minute walk home, your hip hurts. By the ten-minute mark, you’re trying not to limp.

Despite your better judgment, you keep your gaze turned to the rooftops, even though you know the vigilantes are nocturnal. It’s stupid to want to see a flash of red helmet, anyway. The Red Hood probably saves hundreds of people every week; there’s no way he would remember you.

Of course, when you finally get back, there are the stairs to contend with.

Your cat, that ungrateful little beast, beeps at you furiously for being gone so long. Never mind that your roommate works nights, so at most the cat’s been alone for an hour. He makes a break for the hallway, and you box the doorway with your legs and slam the door closed against your hip as you slip through.

Your injury explodes with pain, but at least the cat doesn’t get out. Ungrateful little beast. As if he isn’t fed and loved enough.

You finish slipping through the doorway and just stand for a moment listening to the blood rushing through your ears. Damn, but that hurt.

In the bathroom mirror, you hike up the hem of your shirt and check the state of your injury.

All in all, it could have been much worse. The bullet scooped out a fair chunk of skin, but it was just a surface wound. There’s no fresh blood on the gauze, and when you change the wrappings, the skin is pink and raw but starting to scab. It scooped out a chunk and left a trail of bruising, but you got off fairly lightly, all things considered.

The GCPD released the robber’s mugshot yesterday morning. In the picture, the man’s eyes were so swollen from your pepper spray he could hardly open them.

You preferred the bullet, honestly.

You try in vain to study a bit more, but even after you take more painkillers, you’re not in the mood. You feed your cat, then curl up on the couch to watch a couple episodes of the show you’re currently in the middle of.

That was the first time you see the huge guy, but it’s certainly not the last.

You wouldn’t notice him so much if he wasn’t the size of a damn refrigerator. He’s gotta be a linebacker for the Knights, but he’s not on their roster. You looked it up after the third time he wandered into the library just a couple minutes after you. It’s probably not updated yet, but you see him so often, you’d like to know his name.

Also, he’d bleached a patch of hair right at the front of his head—was that a trend now, or something?—so it wasn’t hard to spot him.

On Saturday, your feelings shift from mild annoyance and curiosity to a sinking sort of dread when you notice him at the coffeeshop you always visit on the weekends. The employees know you by name and use it to call out your order, so now he knows it, as long as he’s paying attention.

You think he might be.

You don’t want to be that person. Not everything in the world revolves around you, obviously. But you might still be shaken from what happened on Monday, because the thought wiggles in the back of your brain: what if you have a stalker?

You try to tell yourself that it’s just paranoia. GCU isn’t that big a campus, after all, and there are only so many places in the city that are: A. close to campus, B. reasonably priced, and C. comfortable to work in. You’ve run into classmates here before, and you don’t have a monopoly on the library or this coffeeshop. Just because he shows up at the same time you do doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He might be establishing a schedule that just so happens to line up with yours.

But, you have to admit, it is easier for stalkers to stalk people when they know their regular schedule.

You keep a watchful eye out and are pretty good about keeping off the streets after dark, but a week and a half later finds you stranded an hour’s walk from your apartment. The buses worked for two days, then shut down again, and you foolishly believed that following the detour that said would get you home would actually get you home. You don’t want to call an Uber because traffic would make the ride longer than the walk and bankrupt you in the process. Same reason you can’t call anyone to pick you up unless you waited the two hours until rush hour dies down.

Walking is, unfortunately, the best option.

So you clutch your trusty pepper spray and prepare yourself for a long night of looking over your shoulder and ignoring the pain in your side. The wound has mostly closed, although the bruising has gotten worse.

Three minutes later, you hear the roar of a motorcycle followed by angry car honks. You barely pay it any mind until the motorcycle pulls up next to you and doesn't pass.

You keep walking, avoiding eye contact. Maybe ignoring them will dissuade the rider from catcalling you.

It doesn't work. "Hey," the rider says, and it's only because the voice is mechanically distorted, recognizable only because of how many videos of him that you won't admit to looking up the last week, that you look at him. "What are you doing?" asks the Red Hood.

"What are you doing?" you counter. He's blocking the flow of traffic talking to you.

The Red Hood looks over his shoulder, flips off the person honking behind him, and steers his motorcycle onto the sidewalk. He drives fast, and you flinch in case he tries to run you over, but he screeches to a halt at the last second.

"Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks," he says casually, like you two meet up often.

"I've been staying out of trouble," you say.

"Not tonight?"

"No. That wasn't my fault, though. I took the Southwest bus because it was supposed to connect with the L line, but all the signs they posted were a lie, apparently, because—" You cut yourself off. "Never mind, I'm sure you don't care. Point is, I'm walking home. It's not too far."

"It's about an hour," he points out. "How's your bullet wound? Will it object to that walk?"

"I'll be fine."

He pats the back of his motorcycle seat. "Hop on. I'll drive you."

You take a couple hasty steps back. It may not be a white van, but you know better than to follow candy into someone's vehicle. "Oh, no, thanks. Traffic's pretty bad right now."

You get the sense he's smiling when he says, "I bet I can get you back faster than walking." If only he wasn't wearing the stupid shiny helmet, you would be able to read his expressions better.

"Really, I'm okay. I'm sure you have better things to do than drive me home."

"Helping people is literally my job," is his response. "I have to make sure you get home safely. So either you get on the back of my bike, or I follow you the whole walk back to your apartment."

You know a losing battle when you see it. As a general rule of thumb, it's usually smart not to argue with the dude carrying at least two guns. "Don't kidnap me," you order before slinging your leg over the seat.

He chuckles. It's the first time you've ever heard him laugh, and it makes him sound so much younger. "You can't ride like that."

"Like what?"

He cranes his neck to look back at you. There's at least six inches between both your bodies. You clutch the sides of the seat with both your hands, hoping he doesn't take off with such a lurch that you topple off the back. "I drive fast. You'll have to hold on."

"I am holding on."

"To me."

You've only met the man twice. You're pretty sure clinging to someone's back is at least a third-meeting type of touch, but he reaches back. The Red Hood snakes a hand nearly twice the size of yours into the crook of your knee, then yanks you to him. You shoot forward with a strangled yelp and catch yourself on his back.

You've never before understood the phrase 'wall of muscle,' but you get it now.

He is huge. And strong. You gingerly put your hands on his shoulders. That's not an inappropriate touch, you think.

He has to live at the gym, right?

"You're still not holding on," he chides. "I don't have a helmet for you, so you really shouldn't fall off."

You swallow and move your hands, but he's too thick for you to link your hands around his front. So you fist both of them into his jacket. It presses your bodies tight against each other from shoulder to thighs. Through the layers his body radiates heat, but you shiver.

"Going," is all the warning you get.

Then you're gone; the bike shudders beneath you, then takes off like a jet.

You can't catch your breath. This must be what riding a dragon feels like, is your first nonsensical thought, a side effect of your roommate's obsession with Game of Thrones.

The bike roars beneath you, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of wind and the pound of blood in your ears. You can't see much with the wind drying out your eyes, so you press your head against the Red Hood's back and squint to one side. Cars and street lamps blur together into a stream of mismatched lights and colors.

The Red Hood drives fast. He weaves between lanes, runs through red lights, cuts onto the sidewalk. A couple bikers shake their fists at him when he passes them in the bike lane. A lot of cars honk at the two of you.

Judging by the way his shoulders shake with laughter, he likes pissing them off. You have to admit, the feeling is a little intoxicating.

You can't hear the sound, but your front is plastered to his back. Even with the layers of his suit and leather jacket, you can feel the vibrations of sound deep within his chest. He has a fairly deep voice, after all, unless the helmet changes that.

No less than ten minutes later, he parks abruptly. You lift your head, blinking moisture back into your eyes, and stare dumbly at your apartment building.

He'd actually brought you back.

Maybe he really was reformed.

You stumble off the bike onto unsteady legs. The Red Hood kicks his stand into place and rests against the bike, leaning with elbows on his handlebars. Like he expects a Midwest goodbye. And you find yourself dawdling.

Maybe you want one, too.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally say awkwardly.

"Anytime," he says, and you laugh, thinking it's a joke, but he doesn't. After a brief awkward pause, the Red Hood tries, "So how have you been?" as if you're old pals meeting up for brunch, and the question is so ridiculous coming from a sort-of-reformed crime lord slash serial killer that you respond without thinking.

"Pretty good, except I think I may have a stalker."

His helmet doesn't do a great job translating whatever sound he makes in response to that. It comes out as a crackle. "What?"

"I've noticed this dude recently showing up wherever I go," you say. "But I think it's just a coincidence. Sorry. That was a bad joke." It wasn't, but you don't want to accuse someone without proof of stalking you. If he's not, you'll seem self-obsessed. If he is, then he knows that you know, and it's not like the GCPD will do anything. One of your friends from your hometown had a stalker for literal years, and the police never did anything, even after he sent her death threats. They said there wasn't enough proof to make an arrest then, so someone showing up at the same places you are definitely isn't enough proof now.

The Red Hood tilts his head. "Does he make you uncomfortable?"

"You don't need to beat him up or anything on my behalf," you say. "I mean, you've seen me with a bottle of pepper spray. I'm pretty sure I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice, like he finds something about the situation funny. "And I'm pretty sure that you know that I'm going to check this out anyway."

"No," you say, surprising yourself with your firmness. You can't rely on vigilantes to solve all your problems for you. "Seriously, it's okay. Thanks for the ride. Maybe I'll see you around."

"I'm counting on it," he calls as you walk away.

And he's right. Two days later finds you at the gas station at ten-thirty at night. You don't want to see him, per se. You're definitely not looking over your shoulder at the slightest sound. You definitely didn't check the parking lot for a notorious red motorcycle on your way in, and you certainly aren't taking peeks out the window every time headlights pass by on the street.

You're just... curious.

Maybe.

But you have absolutely no warning, not even a suspicion that someone is behind you, when you reach for a box of Cheez-Its. Someone else's hand gets there first and you nearly jump out of your socks.

"Hey," the Red Hood wheezes. He's clutching his side like he has a cramp. "Question: if I buy these for you, will you patch me up?"

"What?"

"I may have been cut," he admits. Judging by the angle of his hunch, it's a little more serious than just a 'cut'. "So: do we have a deal?"

The thought occurs to you, as you help him up five flights of stairs to your apartment, that you're escorting a strange man into your place of residence. You haven't even given your roommate a heads-up, though you're pretty sure tomorrow's his night off.

Sure enough, the only person there to greet you when you walk in is your cat. As per usual, he tries to escape. The Red Hood gently but firmly ushers him inside with his foot with such ease he must have one of his own. "It's cute," he says, still clutching his side.

"Thanks," you say. "He always tries to get out, but if he actually escapes then he just freezes in the hallway until I bring him back inside." Then you realize that you're discussing your cat, of all things, with the Red Hood. You clear your throat and say, "Let me take a look at you."

The crime lord and cat trail after you into the bathroom. It gets a little cramped because the Red Hood's about as small as a fridge is small, but you two figure out a passable system: he's too tall, even while sitting down, and you don't want to bend in half while you stitch him. So you sit on the toilet, he stands in front of you, and your cat jumps on top of his leather jacket on the counter to observe and judge. Luckily, the suture kit is still in the bathroom from when you thought you would have to stitch yourself up, so it's not long before you're instructing him to lift up the hem of his shirt so you can see the damage.

You hiss between your teeth at the sight. Someone grazed his side with a knife, by the looks of it, but the wound is deep. It might go all the way to his subcutaneous tissue.

After you clean it off, you're sure that it does. "You call this a cut?"

"I've had worse," he says gruffly.

"And you're still alive?" You squint at him.

He huffs like that's funny.

"They basically cut you in two! I don't know if I can fix this. I've never stitched someone up before!"

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head. "You stitched yourself up, remember? You told me you would."

Shit. Of all the ways to stick your foot in your mouth—

"It wasn't that bad," you say weakly.

“It looked pretty bad.”

“It just looked bad because I was wearing a light colored shirt. Don’t worry; I’ve learned my lesson.”

The Red Hood scratches under your cat’s chin. “About wearing light colored clothing, or about getting shot?”

You’re trying to thread the suture needle, but the stupid thread won’t cooperate. “Hmm?”

“Which lesson did you learn?”

“The former, mostly. Believe it or not, ‘try not to get shot’ is something most people, including me, know intuitively.”

"Let me see."

"Yeah, right," you say, "my apartment's basically a strip club, isn't it? First your shirt's coming up, then mine. Absolutely—" You slap his hand away— "Not. I'm fine. Now hold still while I stab you."

The process goes by quickly. He stands like a statue the whole time, like he's used to the pain of getting stitches. Considering his profession, he probably is.

Actually, you can see a couple healed-over scars on his torso just from the small bit of skin he's revealed by pulling up his shirt. And, you're pretty sure, a perfectly defined six-pack, but that's none of your business.

"I don't have the fancy dissolving sutures, unfortunately," you say while you tie off the thread. "These should come out in about a week."

"Yeah, I know," he grunts, letting his shirt fall back down. And you're not disappointed. At all. "Same time next week, then?"

"What?"

"To get them out."

"Uh." Your brain stalls out. You'd been operating under the assumption that this was just another freak coincidental run-in.

Is it just you, or is the Red Hood looking to make a friend out of you? Or maybe just a free pseudo-surgeon?

"Sure," you say. It's not like you can stop him, really.

"Thanks," he says, stroking your cat one more time. Then he nudges the pest off his jacket and shrugs it on, even though there's not really a need for it. The weather's been pretty mild the last week.

You walk him out the door. He pauses in the hallway, turns, and says, "By the way, what's your name?"

You tilt your head and tell it to him.

"Nice to meet you," he says. Then he walks away.

You watch him walk down the hallway until your cat escapes, and then you have to chase him. You're pretty sure the Red Hood sees it, because low-pitched laughter hits your ears as you gather the little bastard up, but when you look, the vigilante's gone.

"God, I hope he's up to date on his tetanus shot."

You find yourself at the coffee shop the next morning, determined not to let a buff bookworm change your routine. You're the first customer, and they have your order ready by the time you finish setting up your stuff on a small table in the corner of the shop, far from where the line will build up when more people trickle in.

Like clockwork, the bookworm wanders in just a couple minutes after you do, orders two coffees, and settles down across the room with his front to you.

Every time you glance up, he's utterly focused on his book. He's probably not watching you. Right?

Fifteen minutes later, the coffees untouched, he stands up. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he picks one up, approaches the counter, and...

Walks right past it.

Walks in your direction.

You stare blatantly, and he holds your gaze with a set jaw and something a little challenging in his gaze.

He's walking to you.

The coffee cup slams on the table, splashing a little over the edge, and you jump to move your laptop away from the liquid.

"Shit, sorry," the bookworm says. He runs away.

You stare until you realize he's grabbing napkins and hurrying back. At least ten, even though the spill's pretty small, and he piles them all onto the table.

His face gets redder the longer you watch without saying anything.

Once he's absolutely sure your laptop is safe from the couple drops he spilled, he balls them all into one large fist and rushes out, "I'm sorry—I was supposed to meet my brother here, but he canceled, and your drink cup's empty, so I was just wondering if you wanted this one? It's a little warm, but..."

"But free is good," you say, deciding to put him out his misery. And he certainly looks miserable rambling in front of you. Like he's mortified for some reason. "Um, thanks. What..."

"Just an iced coffee. Probably watered down."

You take a sip, just to be polite. It is watered down, but he didn't add any milk to it, so that's probably a good thing. "Thanks..." You tilt the cup to look at the name written on the side. "Jason?"

"Yep." He nods. He's still standing in front of you, like he wants to be invited to sit, but you have a lot of work to do, and he's a complete stranger, and all his stuff is still on his table across the room.

Something clatters behind the counter. You both turn in time to see the two baristas duck out of sight, whispering furiously. Probably about the spectacle you two are making.

"You go to GCU's campus library a lot, right?" Jason asks suddenly.

"Yeah, I do. So do you." You don't phrase it like a question.

"Yeah," he says. "It's peaceful to read in there. Quieter than my apartment."

"Okay," you say slowly. You're really not interested in this conversation, but you don't want to be rude.

He must understand you, though, because he rubs the back of his head and steps backwards, mumbling something about getting back to his book.

Jason's brother never does end up meeting him. You tell yourself that's why you keep glancing at him. Once or twice, you two peek at each other at the same time, and you always look away first, face hot like he's caught you doing something wrong.

The next time you go to the library, it's packed. The weather has turned, so students have nothing better to do than prepare for their finals. You head to the quiet floor, slowly losing hope that you'll find a seat.

A head snaps up the moment you walk in, dark-haired with a striking streak of white at his forehead. Jason.

Something like relief passes over his face, and he waves you over.

"I saved your seat," he whispers, dragging his bag off of the chair.

"Thanks," you say, actually touched. "You didn't have to."

He shrugs. "You're my reading buddy."

The next day, he's sitting at the library's entrance when you walk in. Jason shakes his head. "All the seats were already taken when I got here."

"Ugh." Strictly speaking, you don't need to study tonight. You're pretty confident about the next test's material, and you're also pretty burnt out.

"We could check out the Student Center?" he suggests. As if it's a given that the two of you are going to spend the afternoon together. And, you realize, after two straight weeks of studying in his proximity, you don't mind the presumption. That's how you made your closest friend in undergrad, anyway.

In fact, you think you might want to get to know Jason. Maybe ask about his white streak; you've been growing more and more curious about it. And why he's about seven feet tall and two hundred fifty pounds of muscle but has a passion for romance novels.

"I don't think I've studied in there before."

"It's not too bad, but it's a little louder than the library."

So you two head to the Student Center, but he doesn't open his book, and you open your laptop but don't turn it on. He buys you coffee, though you insist that you can pay for it yourself, and a simple query into what book he's reading currently turns into a two-hour conversation.

Jason likes to read every genre, but he likes classics and romance best. He doesn't just have one brother, he has four, and a sister. He's not on the football team like you'd assumed; he just likes to work out. He's finishing up his sophomore year of undergrad studying English Lit—he sees how your smile freezes at those words, and you're asking how old he is, and he's laughing when he tells you he took a couple gap years. He's your age, actually, and that's relieving for reasons you can't quite put to words.

When you check your watch and curse at the time—it's almost time for your cat's dinner—he asks for your number, and you put it into his phone.

You feel good on your walk home. You haven't made a new friend since the first semester of vet school; the course load is too demanding for you to participate in any GCU clubs. Your roommate asks why you're smiling and you wave him off. Of course, your cat doesn't care that you're in a good mood. He only cares about getting fed.

You see Jason a couple more times over the week, and soon you're too embarrassed to admit that you thought he was stalking you. He's almost as bad a texter as you are, responding at such hours you're half-convinced he doesn't sleep, so you're less self-conscious about taking hours to respond.

You've just gotten around to answering his last text when something knocks against your window.

You drop the phone on your face.

The Red Hood is laughing at you when you open the window to let him in. You'd forgotten he was coming, but you don't say so. He tumbles in, moving a little stiffly, but a lot better than he'd been last week. Your cat, the little traitor, runs to greet him and rubs against his ankles, purring like an engine. The Red Hood bends to pet him. "Hey, kitty." The red helmet tips up and those unnerving white lenses fix on you. "Hey, doc. Here to get my stitches out."

"How have you been feeling?" you ask.

"Good," he says, almost defensively.

It makes you suspect that something is wrong, but when you all pile into the bathroom again like it's a clown car and he pulls up his shirt, the wound is healing nicely. No pink or heat that signals infection, no puffy skin. You remove the stitches quickly, and again he hesitates, like he wants to stay longer.

You find yourself thinking about Jason. You're pretty sure you wish he was here.

"Well, thanks."

"Anytime."

He pauses. "Really?"

You shrug. "I mean, not if you need a hospital. Then I'd expect you to head straight to a hospital. But stuff like this—no worse than this, ideally—I guess I can help you with."

"You're pretty cool for a vet," the Red Hood says. "The last one I visited kept freaking out on me for stealing codeine."

"Well, that's a restricted—wait, you were stealing codeine? What for?"

He shrugs.

"What were you using it for," you repeat sternly.

"Okay!" he says loudly. "Well, thanks for patching me up, doc. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Wait," you call out uselessly, but he vaults out the window. You gasp and rush to the sill, but there's no Red Hood-shaped puddle on the ground. Instead, his rapidly shrinking form disappears in the distance, swinging between the buildings that make up the Gotham skyline.

You don't see the Red Hood for a while after that, but you hear whispers of him wearing a new costume. You get caught up with finals and Jason, who asks you out after the semester ends.

Your vehement 'yes' takes you by surprise. Him, too, judging by his wide eyes and wider smile. You wonder why he asked if he thought you would say no. You wonder why you didn't realize earlier how desperately you wanted him to.

Now that you're out of school, you pick up shifts at the vet clinic. By some unhappy circumstance, they can only schedule you for the evening shifts. Jason works nights, too, and you've never fully squirreled out where he works, but at least you can spend some days together.

It's when you're walking back from your first shift that you see the Red Hood again after almost three weeks of radio silence. He pulls up next to you on the motorcycle. It's so late that there's no one on the road, so he stays on the asphalt and idles along at your walking pace until you break and say, "Long time no see, Hood."

"Did you miss me?" he teases.

You stop walking, because.

Most of his costume changed. Because it's summer, and even the nights are hot and muggy, you assume.

The pants are the same. So are the boots. But his jacket is red and sleeveless and has a hood that goes down to his eyebrows, the armor beneath short-sleeved, which means most of his arms are bare.

And...

Your mouth is dry. You swallow.

You're pretty sure not even Batman is that ripped. He looks like he's chiseled out of marble.

The longer you're speechless, the more amused he gets. You don't know how you know that, but something about his posture seems smug.

"You're taking 'red hood' seriously now, are you?" is all you manage to say. Because what else are you supposed to comment on? His bare forearms? His veins are so beautifully pronounced, they would be a dream to take blood from, but you have a boyfriend of a whole one and a half weeks, and you may be many things, but you're not a cheater.

He laughs, then pulls his hood low when it slips back a bit. His voice is still modulated, although it's not through a red helmet anymore. This is more like a muzzle. You can't tell if the eye covering is part of it, or like the domino masks that Batman and Robin wear, but the lenses are red now instead of white.

He's really leaning into the theme.

"You want a ride?"

"We're two blocks from my apartment."

He shrugs. "I'm heading there anyway."

What the hell. You've already hopped on the back of his bike before. It's easier to do so the second time. You wrap your arms around his torso again, and when his arms settle over your own, they're warm with his body heat, but not hard, even though the muscles look sharp enough to cut glass. He's firm all over, but his skin is soft, apart from the raised, bumpy scars that seem to cover him from head-to-toe. It makes you worry about him, just a little.

He doesn't drive fast this time. He drives slow enough to hold a conversation and tosses over his shoulder, "So what's new with you?"

"Not much," you say into his ear. Is it just you, or does he shiver? "I finished another semester of vet school."

"Top grades, I'm sure. Did you get extra credit for patching me up?"

"I wish." No, your grades are good, but not exceptional. But exceptional is what got you into vet school. As long as you graduate with a DVM, even if you're the lowest in your class, you're a licensed doctor. There's some relief in that. "The dude I thought was stalking me asked me out, actually."

"Really?" he asks, interested and alert. "Was he really stalking you? Do you need me to scare him off for you?"

"No," you say, smiling at the thought of the Red Hood trying to scare off Jason. They're about the same build, now that you think about it, which you're sure the vigilante isn't used to. And Jason's never been anything but gentle and polite, but you saw an undercurrent of something strong, something like titanium, under that gentle spirit the one time he stood up for one of the baristas at the coffee shop that you first spoke to each other. He hadn't needed to do much apart from stand up and glare at the beleaguered corporate guy angry that there wasn't enough sugar in his coffee, and the dude shut up and scurried out as fast as he could.

It was probably the hottest thing you've ever seen him do, except for that one time you pushed your laptop a little too close to the edge of your desk while studying, it tipped over, and he caught it one-handed without looking up from his book. What can you say? Saving you a couple hundred dollars in getting that fixed was hot.

"It was a misunderstanding," you say. "We just ended up in the same places at the same times."

A gust of wind pushes back the Red Hood's hood, exposing a head of thick, dark hair, the same shade of black as Jason's. The motorcycle swerves in his haste to pull his hood back up, and when you reach your apartment and hop off the bike, he's pushing his hair back, back, beneath the hood.

What's the point of ditching the helmet if he's just going to be fussing with the hood all the time?

"What's new with you?" you ask, scuffing your toe against the sidewalk. Your shoes are falling apart; the sole is peeling away.

"Same old, same old," he says. His voice sounds rougher, but that might just be the new modulator.

"How's your side?"

"How's yours?" he counters. "You still haven't let me see it. I bet it scarred because you were too stubborn to take my advice and patch it up."

You will never admit that he's right. You challenge, "Let's compare scars, then," knowing full well his armor dips below his pants. It's a little silly to picture the Red Hood wearing an armored one-piece, but that's all you can imagine.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. It dislodges the hood. A patch of hair falls down to his forehead, and it's white.

But the back of his hair is black.

White and black—

Your stomach flips.

"I thought you had a boyfriend, honey. Why're you asking me to strip?"

So that's what all the teasing's been about. He hasn't been flirting—or he has, his own weird version of flirting, because he's a dumbass.

For a moment all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears, then you flex your fingers to regain feeling in them. You roll your eyes and say, "I think we've established that my apartment is basically a strip club. Why don't you come up and show me, Jason?"

"Well, I'm flattered, but—what?" He splutters like he's choking on his own tongue. Serves him right. "I'm not—why do you think that—I mean, I could be anyone—"

Yeah, he can have his little crisis on the street. You tug on your own fringe, then swipe into the building.

You hear his muffled cursing as the door closes.

You look forward to him catching up.

(My requests are open, so let me know if you want me to write anything in particular! Also let me know if you want to be added to a taglist.)

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 4 ]

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A/N: This is all angst and fluff because I'm working on two other smut fics. Please accept this impromptu filler chapter for now (I'm sorry ❤️). I hope you enjoy it anyway.

WARNINGS: [ SFW ] + [ SLIGHTLY MATURE THEMES ] + [ FLUFF ] + [ ANGST ]

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You waited patiently for Alastor, standing at the window, admiring the fading moon as the sun's rays gradually inked the sky. It’d been a longer night than you imagined, but you felt energized rather than overtly exhausted.

You supposed that's what having a child felt like: tiring but never lacking excitement. A smile crept onto your face at the thought, heart racing at the image of a small hand wrapping around your finger and the possible jingle of childish laughter following the gesture. It was all you could think about.

Would they resemble you or Alastor more?

A boy or maybe a girl?

Twins?… Oh, twins would be so extraordinary but troublesome!

Oh, who am I to complain… they'd be just as lovely as Alastor.

You jumped from one thought to the next, unable to keep track of your puzzling emotions but deciding your only concern should be the present. With a steadying breath, you gazed around the room, searching for something to do or a task to occupy yourself with since sleep failed you. The room was spotless besides your belongings, which you'd already reorganized after stealing one of Alastors dress shirts to replace your blood-stained nightgown. There was a bookshelf full of various stories tucked into a corner near an old rocking chair, and the idea of reading to relax didn't seem terrible.

“A good story can be grand entertainment…”

Your father coined the phrase and always followed it with an unbelievable bedtime reading. Those nights filled with his storytelling were your fondest childhood memories, and you considered passing the sentiment onto your child. You imagined Alastor more prone to telling bedtime stories; he had the charisma, the soothing voice for it, and you had no doubt they'd become attached to him doing so.

Your smile grew wider, getting ahead of itself as you waltzed over to the tall mahogany bookshelf. “Hm…what shall we read, little one?” you placed a hand on your stomach, gently rubbing circles against it as your other grazed the worn book spines. Each title caught your eye, all ranging in subject but consistent with what Alastor told you about his mother's efforts to advance his literacy.

“Some might say she willed proper speech out of me, but I wouldn't be where I am now without such vigorous practice…”

He was far from wrong; your father had educated you similarly, claiming that despite young women of the time being expected to rely on their beauty, you'd advance farther with brains.

“Let's see..” you mumbled aloud, reading a few titles to narrow your decision, “…perhaps Penny Dreadful? No, The Grim Brothers Tales’?..” A soft giggle left your lips as you considered how ridiculous you sounded speaking aloud, but it couldn't be helped. You were longing to talk, to shout with joy, but resisted the urge in fear of causing a minor disturbance.

Finally, a book held your attention, not as worn as the others but fairly withered. “Alice in Wonderland shall do.” You pricked it from the shelf, sitting in the rocking chair while opening its front cover. The words on each page were familiar, immersive as intended, and for a few quiet moments, you thought of nothing but its premise as you whispered nonsensical sentences in their written order.

Time passed quicker than you thought; by the third chapter, you heard the bedroom door creak open, and in stepped a refreshed Alastor. You beamed a coy smile his way as he shut the door behind him, returning your smile with tired eyes while walking over to you, “Mornin’ darlin’..”

“Good morning, mon cher. You look much better.” you muse as he leans down to kiss your head, “Thank you, sweetheart. Once I get some rest, I might feel better as well.” He doesn't stand up fully, content with being at eye level with you to converse, and you unconsciously blush from the intensity of his gaze. Strands of his hair were curled into its natural waves, dripping with tiny water droplets, slithering down his mocha skin with every breath he took. It was a miracle his glasses didn't fog up, resting neatly on his face and doing nothing but accentuating his piercing brown eyes.

You could get lost in his stare; that ocean of amber took your breath away effortlessly, and you wondered if the trait would pass on to your child.

Indeed, it would… surely he'd love it.

A lump formed in your throat as anxious excitement built in your chest. You needed to tell him calmly, but the longer you waited, the more you wanted to hide away.

Did he want this?

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…”

He'd said it himself, but it was hard for you to deny that Alastor was very vague with his genuine emotions. Even as his wife, you found him hard to read

There was only one way for you to find out, and stalling wouldn't solve anything. Alastor studied your expression as you thought, perceptive to the minor changes in your mood, “My dear, are you alright?” he asked firmly. You perk up, nodding slowly while clutching the book to your chest, “I-Im, I'm fine... It's just that I have to tell you something rather delicate..”

Alastor raised a brow, watching as you bit your lip and stared at your lap, “The news you alluded to earlier this evening?” His eyes narrow, glinting with prowess as he ponders the possibilities of your announcement.

With a heavy sigh, you nod again, shutting the book before placing it in your lap, gripping it tight with one hand as the other instinctively rests on your stomach. You feel his gaze shift from your face, fixated on your abdomen, as you stumble out an explanation.

“I. Well, I'm… “ you cut yourself off when words fail, reaching for his hand gently, placing it over your own as a nervous smile adorns your face.

Oh…does she mean to say?…

Alastor froze as the warmth of your skin settled against his palm, rising and falling in a gentle pattern as you willed yourself to breathe normally while gauging his reaction. His shadows quivered in the darkness of the room, able to hear two faint heartbeats underneath the drum of your own, and the definitive sound brought a grin to his face.

It seems she's given us exactly what we hoped for. Twice the yield as well.

How delightful.

Alastor knelt before you, placing both hands on your stomach, eyes soft with affection as he finally voiced his thoughts.

“My darling wife is going to be a mother..” pride laced his tone as he averted his gaze to yours, grin ever present as you nodded excitedly with a bright smile, “And you're going to be father..” you whisper.

Your words drifted quietly in the air, sinking into Alastor’s consciousness and stirring his specters into a giddy frenzy.

My wife is having my children…

Mine and only mine.

A laugh rippled in his chest as the possessive thought invaded his mind, growing stronger as he heard your delighted giggles join his. “Come here, darlin’…” Alastor lifted you with one gentle tug on your wrists, catching you in his arms as your feet hovered off the ground. “Alastor!” you yelped excitedly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt and laughing more as he pecked your lips tenderly. You hummed into the passionate kiss, arms locking around his neck as you kicked a foot up gingerly. He tasted like mint, calm, and refreshing. A welcomed contrast to the waning heat you felt as your nerves winded down.

He was pleased to know, which filled your heart with relief.

——- ——- ———

“Oh, my stars! Al! Y/n! I'm overjoyed for you both!” Rosie shot up from her seat, dress flowing as she glided around the coffee table to squeeze you in a tight hug as you set out the platter of sweets you'd finished baking moments ago. “Thank you, Rosie. I still can't believe it myself,” you blushed as she squealed, drawing back a bit to cup your face with both hands; her eyes sparkled with admiration as she looked between you and Alastor -who sat comfortably in an armchair. He hadn't stopped grinning since your return home from the countryside, rambling on and on to his mother about the news until the last minute, and he insisted on telling Rosie as soon as you stepped foot in New Orleans again. She was his long-time friend, after all, yours as well, by extension, and so you didn't mind revealing the news to her. Just as his mother felt like your own, Rosie filled the space of an older sister for you. She was energetic, fashionable, and constantly aware of everyone's lives.

She was a true gossip girl, but you enjoyed her company more than others.

“Al, you devil! You could've waited another year to knock my dearest friend up! Now, who will I take out on the town?..” She huffed dramatically but couldn't hold her frown as you giggled softly while he waved a hand dismissively. “I'm sure you'll survive, my dear.” he quips. Rosie rolls her eyes, returning his nonchalant gesture with an equally smug smirk, “I suppose you're right. Although, my nights out won't be as thrilling anymore with you gone being a new father and such, Al.”

He sat straighter. You happened to catch the slightest frown on his face at Rosie’s comment, but it vanished when he felt your eyes on him. “I'll accompany you on occasion when time allows it.” His response is politely chaste, and one might deem it disappointing.

Was he bothered by the notion of having less time with Rosie?

You knew they ventured to socialite parties together regularly, something they'd done long before you married him, but you never questioned it since Rosie assured you it was their fun hobby. Still, you felt concerned that Alastor could regret the idea of children if it meant a less spontaneous party going with his oldest friend.

You opened your mouth to say something, stepping towards where he sat, but Rosie grabbed your hands and whisked you away to sit on the plush sofa with her. “We must discuss everything Y/n. Having a child is no small feat, and I know Al won't spare any expense.” She grinned, squeezing your hands gently, and you smiled back at her before sparing your husband a curious glance. “He spoils me too much already, so I think he'll naturally do the same for the baby,” a soft laugh floated from you, and he tipped his head reassuringly while pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. “Whatever their little heart desires, I shall give,” he replies calmly, standing to his feet and gazing between you and Rosie. “It's about time I head on over to the station. I don't suppose you’ll be leaving anytime soon, Rosie?”

You checked the grandfather clock that stood against the adjacent wall, noticing it was nearly time for his broadcast to begin, “Seems we lost track of time.” you smiled apologetically at Alastor. He shook his head while chuckling, “It's not your fault, darling. I got caught up listening to this one ramble,” he gestured to Rosie before walking over to the parlor room coat stand. He pricked his preferred overcoat, slipping it on quickly as she glared at his back. “Is that any way to speak of your child’s future honorary aunt and godmother!” she faked a skeptical look to which you feigned concern, “Oh, my dear Rosie, he didn't mean it, I swear!”

Alastor turned on his heel, biting back a more comprehensive smile as he admired the two of you carrying on, “I will not apologize for telling the truth, ma chère, but Rosie does have the privilege of godmother so that for I will ask for her forgiveness.” he stood behind the sofa, leaning down a bit to kiss you once then twice before pulling away with a content hum.

Rosie watched the sweet exchange, able to separate the manic version of Alastor she killed from the doting husband he was in your presence, proud to see him so controlled and happy. He pulled away from you, adoring the glimmer in your eyes as you reached a hand up to adjust his glasses, “I love you,” you whisper, and he blanks for a moment, hearing the endearing phrase.

Love…is that what this is?…

Would it be so wrong to say it back?…

A flash of vulnerability crosses Alastor’s face, and you're tempted to take your words back, but he beats you to speak. “Je t'aime aussi..” he mutters back, stepping away to bid Rosie a proper goodbye, “Take good care of her while I'm gone.” he kisses her cheek, and she swats his arm, “Oh, you know I will. Now run along before you're late!” He heads to her, scolding her out the door in seconds, leaving you in her company.

“I thought he'd never leave,” Rosie chirps, glad to have some privacy to speak with you and eager to get down to the details you had to tell. “Tell me, how do you feel, honey? I know this all might be terrifying you…” she spoke softly, pricking a freshly baked cookie from the platter you set out, and you nodded timidly in agreement while fidgeting with your hands.

“I'm scared, yes, but not of being a mother. You know I've always wanted to be one. It was my biggest dream when I came of age, and I'm glad it's coming true with Al..” You rested a hand on your stomach, feeling it flip at the mention of him, and luckily, no urge to throw up followed.

Thank goodness for Angelique and her tonics!

She'd given you a case of vials to take home, all containing a special brew made by her hand, and she'd given you a strict regimen for consuming them.

“Drink two of these twice daily, morning and evening, but only take it after you've eaten. Have Alastor phone me when you need more..”

Whatever was given had a wonderous effect on your mood, reduced your fatigue, and calmed your nerves. You were grateful for her assistance, but not everything you felt could be cured with medicine.

You hoped Rosie would understand, could help calm what the tonics couldn't, so as she peered at you curiously and asked, “What's the matter, dearest?” you inevitably blurted out your worst and only fear.

“I'm afraid of how Alastor will be as a father..”

She blinked, taken aback by your confession, but it didn't show on her face. “May I ask why?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with your hands again as you thought of what to say, but Rosie rested a hand on yours to still them in a gentle grip. “Y/n, it's alright, be honest. He may have been my closest companion initially, but you are my truest friend in this moment. I'm here to listen, not to criticize. He won't hear a word of it, I swear.”

You glanced between your conjoined hands and her kind smile, and after debating whether or not to spill your heart out, you decided it wouldn't hurt to express your doubts.

You could trust Rosie. Right?…

“Well, I know he wants children. He recently told me so, but it's how he'll receive them. Alastor is a complex man, we both know that, but I fear that complexity will make it hard for him to…to..” you tried to phrase the last of your concerns gently, unsure if what you said made any sense to her, but Rosie merely smiled before finishing the thought for you.

“You're afraid he won't show them love?..”

You nod, heart clenching at the thought, “Yes. I know how his childhood went; I was there through it all, so I know his father wasn't the best man. I know what he put his mother through and Alastor hates the idea of becoming like him..”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, beginning to tear up as memories of Alastor coming to you in the dead of night, bruised and battered but stoic as ever as he asked to sleep next to you in your bed. He'd never tell you what happened, where his father was, or if he'd been majorly injured. You'd have to coax information out of him, promise him that you'd never betray his safety, or tell your father what went on in his family. Then and only then would he relax, let you mend his scars before huddling under the thick covers with you, and though you were both exhausted, you'd whisper stories aloud to each other until the sun peeked through the trees.

It felt odd to wish for times like that to return; they all resorted from darker places, but it brought you two closer. You were able to understand Alastor to an extent most speculated of. With all the insight into his life, you hoped the irrational fears you felt would wither away, but after the incident at his mother's, they just worsened.

It felt as if he were hiding something from you.

At first, the notion piqued your curiosity, but now it ate away at your conscience.

What was he withholding from you, and did you need or want to know more?

Logic voted ‘yes,’ but your trusting nature leaned towards ‘no.’

“He won't ever be like him. I'm sure, but he's only recently expressed he cares for me. Truly loves me, so I suppose I'm afraid of that same affection not being openly expressed to our little one as well.”

Rosie nodded, scooting closer and giving you a tight side hug to calm your frazzled state. “My dear, you have every right to fear such a thing. However, if I may vouch for Alastor, I do believe his softer side will show itself for your child.” You peered at her, hope in your eyes, “Really? You think so?..”

She grins, “I am certain of it! He cherishes you like no other! Unlike my husband, yours is a dime and a man who'd kill for you if necessary.”

You blush, surprised by her claim, “I don't think he'd kill for me, Rosie, but I understand the sentiment.” She scoffs, hand rubbing your shoulders, and retorts, “Yes, he would, and he'd show the same devotion to your bundle of joy.”

Her statement soothed your worries, but the seriousness in her tone made your heart skip a beat.

It felt as though she did know he'd kill for you…kill for your child.

A shiver racked your body at the thought.

I hope it never comes to that…

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

What do you guys think of the story so far? I'm just curious to hear your thoughts and theories.❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He may be a monster, but at least he's dedicated to it; morally grey, but honest to his silly little murderous behaviors ❤️ credits to the creator

[1d1195]

Toothpaste IV

Read Toothpaste here | ~1.8k words

From me: By popular demand 🦷

Warnings: some sexual tension, some oral fixation, and fairly sexy innuendos. Toothpaste anon, I know what you said but I wanted a really slow burn here. I know, I know. I'm sorry. But not quite yet..

Summary: “Did y’mean it?”

“Mean what?” There was hardly any air left in her lungs so the words she spoke were quiet.

“Y’were falling in love?” He questioned. Her cheeks felt hot. Embarrassed that she said that out loud on their first date.

Harry hurried around to the passenger side and opened the door for her to get out. Although she was already part way through opening it and Harry would have to remember that next time. But right now, he wanted her inside his house and would let it slide. “Let me,” he offered and took the bag of their to go order. She was so goddamn stunning it melted him. He put a hand on her lower back as he ushered her up the steps to his place.

Harry’s house wasn’t huge. It was just him, after all. A cute little porch was at the top of three little steps, a large window to the left of the door but she couldn’t see inside because of the curtains hiding behind the glass. A single chair and end table were in front of the window. A spot for reading and drinking coffee if she had to imagine.

In fact, she imagined Harry sitting there, completing a crossword puzzle first thing in the morning while the sun was still rising. If she lived in his house, she probably wouldn’t use the door to get to the porch. She loved the idea of a window that was large enough to open to the porch. It didn’t make sense. It was right next to the door. But it was adorable. To the right of the door was a large planter filled with colorful flowers and she imagined her extremely attractive dentist, boss, and date tending to a garden. The thought went straight to her heart.

Pulling the key back out of the lock, he opened the door and ushered her inside and closing, the door behind her. He put the bag of food on the entry table right next to the staircase. He reached for her shoulders, sliding his fingers below her hair and tugging the collar of her jacket down.

Her eyes adjusted to the semi-dark. Without any lights on, his place was cast in varying shades of white, gray, and black. But she could make out the room—a couch, a loveseat, and a coffee table. The TV hung above the mantle and fireplace. Paintings hung at regular intervals along the walls. Behind the couch was a bookshelf; each cubby filled with everything Harry enjoyed reading. She crouched immediately to read the titles. Harry brought the food to the kitchen. She didn’t take the books out but she pulled the ones she thought she would like down. “If you can part with these, I’d like borrow them.”

He smiled thoughtfully, leaning on the armrest of the loveseat. He crossed his feet at the ankles and his hands were in his pockets. “Y’can have whatever y’want.”

His kitchen was along the back wall, no dining room, but he had two seats around a small table—like an island in the middle. Everything was decorated so expertly. “Did you decorate yourself?” She asked.

“Gemma helped,” he shrugged. “We have similar taste,” he explained.

Gemma was Harry’s sister and not a reason for her to be jealous. But it seemed they would all get along swimmingly. “Can she help decorate my apartment?”

He chuckled. “M’sure she’d love that.”

She stood up and went to the fridge looking at the pictures and coupons that he had under magnets of places he visited? Maybe? Or maybe they were a souvenir from friends and family. Pictures of Gemma, a sweet little baby girl, and a woman that was most definitely where Harry got his gorgeous looks from adorned the door.

The place was so cozy and warm. She wanted to live there. Not to be dramatic, but whether Harry lived there or not. “I love your house,” she smiled. Harry stayed put at the armrest while he watched her inspect his place. He wanted to give her space and let her make the moves and make sure she was comfortable.

It took every bit of restraint for Harry to say thank you and not, it’s yours regarding her compliment of his home.

He was dead serious in saying she could have whatever she wanted. He was putty in her hands. Wrapped around her finger. Anything she wanted? He was going to give it to her. “Can I take my shoes off?”

He snorted. “Course, y’don’t have t’ask.”

“Well, I didn’t want to be rude.”

He shook his head with a smirk. He went over to the stove, turning on the soft light. It gave the room a romantic feel to it. Like how a couple would slow-dance to nothing but the music in their head. Then he went to her side and immediately dropped to his knees. Her heart skipped a beat. Then it took off rapidly, pounding so loudly she felt it in every inch of her body. She wondered if this was a dream because she would be lying if she hadn’t thought about it a lot in the time that she had known Harry.

His fingers danced at her ankle, skimming softly against her skin, and he coaxed her foot out of one shoe and then the other. He stood slowly, extremely close to her body. Only a breath of space between them. “Does your tooth hurt?” He asked. She shook her head. He smiled. “Good.” Then he kissed her. His hands on her hips and she knew his mouth was already perfect because he was a dentist, but she forgot that kissing would add a whole level to that perfection. He pulled away briefly, his eyes scanning her face for signs of regret. His smile was so pretty, and he sighed like this was the happiest moment of his life. She felt her chest aching something fierce. She slid one hand along the side of his face and the other went around through his soft hair at the back of his head and pulled him back in. He hummed in approval making her shiver involuntarily. “Are y’cold?” He asked against her lips.

“No,” she shook head refusing to talk when his mouth was there to kiss.

His hands reached down further, gripping the back of her thighs and he lifted her onto the counter. Bringing her toward the edge of it so he could settle his hips between her legs and wrap them around his hips. “Did y’mean it?” He asked, his lips peppering kisses along her mouth and face as he allowed her to breathe. Her breath came in quiet gasps. Unbelievably turned on and warm.

His lips followed the length of her jaw all the way to her ear before it took a turn and then descended down her neck. “Mean what?” There was hardly any air left in her lungs so the words she spoke were quiet.

“Y’were falling in love?” He questioned. Her cheeks felt hot. Embarrassed that she said that out loud on their first date. But him kissing her was a good sign, wasn’t it? She didn’t scare him off quite yet. “Don’t be shy now, kitten,” he murmured into her skin. “Told me y’would open wide the second day I met you.��

She huffed out a breath of laughter as his lips trailed across her collarbone to the other side to complete the loop of kisses he was placing along her skin. “I did not say that.”

“Would y’open wide?” He pulled his mouth from her skin. She couldn’t make out the pretty green color, even with the stove light, but she could make out he was gazing at her, his pupils huge and lovely as he eyed her. Her throat felt tight with desire, and she nodded silently. His eyes stayed locked with hers. “Open,” he ordered.

She dropped her jaw. Slowly he drew his hand up her body, making her eyelids flutter as she waited patiently. His hand held the side of her neck and keeping his slow pace he dragged his thumb across her lower lip, then the top one before finally pressing it on her tongue.

“Suck.”

His other hand was holding her thigh still so she knew he would feel the muscle contraction from between her legs and he grunted when her lips closed around his digit.

Then she sucked.

“Fuck,” he hissed. She could feel him hardening between her legs pressed close to her core. “Eyes,” he hummed. She didn’t even realize she had closed them. “Did y’mean it?” He repeated. She had no idea what he was talking about. Her tongue was lapping at his thumb and swirling around it like it was his dick and that made her tighten more as he ground his erection against her. Thank God she wore a dress. “Did y’mean it?” He asked again. “Hmm?” she hummed around his thumb making him inhale sharply at the insinuating vibration. She whimpered softly as he pressed harder onto her tongue. She hollowed her cheeks desperate for more. “Fuck,” he hissed pulling his hand away. “Did y’mean it when y’said y’were falling in love?”

Her shyness returned. Which was beautiful in its own right. The way her mouth closed around his thumb would be a visual that would never leave his mind for long. “Yes,” she whispered and looked down at her lap, right where they were closest to one another.

“Do y’think m’not?” He asked, tilting her chin back up. Her heart fluttered and she felt breathless, stunned, unable to move. Harry was brilliant, had his own practice, and a house that was so goddamn cute she wanted to scream. Falling in love with her? No, she didn’t think she was that lucky. “M’falling very hard for you, kitten,” he assured her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, melting her like she was nothing but candle wax.

“Oh.”

“Yeah...” he glanced down between them, where her core was pressed against his dick aching to escape his pants. Her dress covered her so he couldn’t see but he could feel how warm she was pressed against him. “Do y’want t’go upstairs?” He asked.

She swallowed and nodded.

“We don’t have to,” he assured her. He would probably have to take a cold shower and think about her the whole time, but they didn’t have to do anything if she didn’t want to.

His kindness was sweet, more than adorable. But if his thumb was merely a precursor to what laid ahead? She didn’t want to prolong her pleasure any longer. “Harry,” she giggled quietly. “I have a cavity.”

He tilted his head at her. “Are y’in pain?” He asked, concern filling his voice. He ran his thumb along her jawline, ghosting softly in case it was sensitive and hurt too much with even a touch on the outside of her mouth. He didn’t even care how rapidly the eye-fucking and the dry-humping stopped and changed to talk of toothaches.

“It really needs to be filled,” she said knowingly.

His eyes darted back to hers as realization flooded him. “Oh, fuck yes, love,” he moaned and yanked her toward him, kissed her, and carried her upstairs.

--

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If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: I'm a sleepy babay.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

There’s a finality to the tap of your thumb. You hold the block button for a moment before you let it go. The window pops up asking if you’re sure. Yes. Certain. This is just a mistake and when you’re older and wiser, you’ll be thankful you made it. If you even remember it. 

You lay back and put your phone down. Done. Over. No more Jacob. No Andy.  

Maybe you’ll go back and see Kara again, or she can come here, even if she hates this town. You can at least be thankful that it reconnected you two, and you have to be grateful to learn a hard lesson. Don’t mess with strangers online. You’re better off alone. 

You close your eyes. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and yes, physically. Who knew scooping ice cream could be so much work? 

When you wake up, you’re sore and still groggy. The sun peers in at you brightly in the slat between the curtains. You groan and hide under the pillow. Your shift starts at noon. You can’t spend all morning doing nothing or the whole day is wasted. 

You drag yourself out of bed. Your grandma is still asleep. You’re sure she was up until dawn with her latest haul from the used book store. You clean up the cluster of wrappers around her chair and tidy up the kitchen, dumping the old coffee and brewing a new pot. 

You go to grab your phone and pause as you see an unusual notification. Your email? Huh. You don’t really use that besides for school. You open it up, thinking it might be about enrolment. No. It’s him. Andy. Holy moly. 

You scroll up and down, skimming the blocks of text. Oh god. You hit delete. You’re not reading all that. You said what needed to be said. 

You have your coffee and load the machine for whenever your mother gets out of bed. You eat and wash up, catching up on some Youtube before you make yourself get your uniform on. You head out, walking to work to enjoy the sunshine, and key in between tying on your apron and chatting with Gavin, the high schooler who does half-shifts every now and then.  

He leaves at four and you have your complimentary cone just after five. Peanut butter chocolate; classic. You eat at the window as you watch the mostly empty street. Your phone vibrates and you slide it out, hoping to take advantage of the lull. 

WhatsApp request? No way. The shammy recruiters always want a piece of you. At least you never fell for that. 

You bite into the cone and your phone suddenly blows up with Insta notifications. Bots! Ugh. So annoying. Every new follower is faceless with some generated name. You mute the notifications and put your cell away. You really are a boring person. 

As you look up, tires crush over a patch of gravel and your barely catch a glimpse of the car as it rolls just around the corner. You feel like you’ve missed something. Maybe your grandma is right about you always having your nose buried in a screen. Who is she to talk? She lives in her novels. 

Your shift ends at eight. You lock up and stop by the convenience store down the block. Nothing special, just a tray of carbonara you can shove in the nuke. As you pay at the counter, the door chimes to signal another customer. You accept your meagre meal as the other patron strides into the aisle. You don’t look over as you go directly for the door. You’re starving for more than a scoop. 

Your footsteps seem to echo through the dull streets. The frozen meal makes your hand hurt as your other holds your cell phone close. You text Kara as you finally get through the essay she wrote about Calvin’s latest antics. You wish you could convince her to play something. You feel aimless without an analog stick under your thumb. 

There’s a scuff, close behind you, loud enough to make you jump. You fumble with your phone and glance over your shoulder. You don’t see anything but the thick oak outside Luella’s. Ugh. Alright, you need to eat and lay down. It hasn’t been a busy day but still a long one. 

You pass through your grandma’s front door. She’s where she always is, in her chair, but something’s off. Something’s different. The smell of pollen hangs in the air and a pot stands on the coffee table with several white orchids tall in the soil. You frown. The last time you got her flowers, she didn’t even put them in a vase. 

“Oh, those are pretty,” you say. 

“Mph, not mine,” she grumbles, not looking up. 

“Not... who’s...” 

“Delivery man said your name. I didn’t read the card. I’m not a snoop.” 

You nod, thankful at least that she isn’t nosy. You go to the table and examine the pot. Who would send you flowers? 

You take the card off the tall pronged stick and open the envelope. You slide out the paper and unfold it. 

‘I know I’ve told you a million times, so I’ll show you how sorry I am instead. Yours always, Andy.’ 

You nearly drop your handful. Your eyes flick up to the pot and you have to stop yourself from pushing it off the table. What the hell? How... how does he know where you live? You never even mentioned what town you’re from. He only knows your college and it’s so small, he wouldn’t have heard of it. 

It’s enough to unsettle you. That he knows where you live is bad enough but the flowers themselves make a point. It’s not over. He’s not walking away but what else can you say to make him? Didn’t he get it? You think were pretty nice considering. 

“You got some boy?” Your grandma raises her eyes from the page. You can’t remember the last time she even bothered looking at you. 

“Not exactly,” you tuck the card away and put it in your pocket. “I’m going to make my dinner.” 

“Eh,” she grumbles, “fine. Get them flowers somewhere else. They stink.” 

You lift the vase, hugging it around the pot, and carry it from the room. You balance it against your hip and go into the kitchen. You use your free hand to pull open the freezer and put the pasta inside. You’re not so hungry anymore. 

🎮

The irises are pretty. The pot they came in is fancy, probably expensive. It underlines once more the gap between you and the real Jacob. Between you and Andy.

It only reminds you of how ridiculous you must have sounded. So, you just can’t understand why he’s doing this? Why is he still trying? For you? A girl with dwindling hopes of even finishing her low-tier college degree. 

You try to forget. You don’t have a shift that day but you can’t just sit around. Usually, you would. You’d hole up in your bedroom and play video games. Not anymore. He ruined that. You’re disappointed you’re letting him. 

You got down to the library for a while and wander around. There’s nothing there you’re very interested in. They still haven’t got the latest release in the series you’d read in high school. Oh well, you’ll wait around until one day you learn the fate of those revolutionary spies. 

You walk the main strip of the town. It isn’t very extensive. There’s a coffee shop and the used bookstore which also carries hobby supplies. There’s the same diner that’s been there since you were a kid and the interchangeable business that open and close year after year. 

There’s a vibe in your pocket. It’s not Kara. Another WhatsApp request, more Insta bots, and Discord. You haven’t been on the server in ages. You couldn’t keep up with all the channels and most of it was arguing about mining strategies. 

It’s Andy. Frig. You should’ve blocked him there too. You just hadn’t thought of it. 

‘Did you like the flowers?’ 

You don’t answer but he’ll see that you read it. It isn’t long before he’s typing. 

‘I am still very sorry. I wish you’d talk to me. Hear me out.’ 

Hear him out? He said everything. His son is dead and he lied to you. That’s not anything you can hash out. 

‘I know you’re not working today. I’ll make a new world and we can chat there.’ 

No. That’s not going to happen. Over. O-V-E-R. It’s done. You’re not going to be like Kara. When you cut the cord, it’s snipped. 

You won’t answer. That’s just bait. He’ll keep nibbling if you do that. You press the chat settings and block. That’s better, you can’t breathe. 

You put your phone on silent and back in your pocket. You wish you had the money to try the sushi place. It won’t last long in the bodunk town so you probably won’t ever get to. Oh well. Back on campus, they sell decent California rolls at the cafeteria. Decent, not necessarily good. 

You go home. To your grandma’s house. It doesn’t always feel like home. You know she’s counting the days until you leave. You are too. 

You wish you were brave enough to apologise. To say sorry your mom and dad didn’t want you. That she got stuck with you. It feels like saying it out loud would be worse. Just wallow in the unspoken resent, one day you won’t ever come back and maybe then you can both be happy. 

In your room, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your Switch taunts you from across the room. You want to mine or race or even scare yourself with some Hellblade. You can’t. More Youtube. More wasted time. That’s what people like you do; people from small towns with no one who loves them and no money; waste time. 

The mindless videos help you relax but not forget. You just can’t get rid of the little tickle at the back of your head. There’s a tinge of shame that remains and a sliver of guilt. It will go. It has to, one day. 

You catch yourself staring at the orchid. You can smell it. You want to throw it away but that feels rude. Even if Andy would never know, even if you shouldn’t care. He hurt you, didn’t he? He lied. Well, you could give it to Mahalia next door, she loves flowers. 

You lay in indecision. You don’t want to do anything but lay there. Now that you’re still, you have no strength. Your day off is chipped away in your laziness.  

The next day awaits you with another shift at the booth. And the day after and the day after. 

Your fourth day in a row and you get a new Discord message. You know even before you open it, even by the blank avatar and nondescript username. It’s him. Just leave me alone. Let it go. Let me forget. 

‘I know you don’t want to hear from me but I need you to hear me. I can’t stop thinking of you and what happened. I can do better. Please, let me apologise.’ 

Blocked. Again.

Work. Again.  

You’re half asleep as you fill cones with soft serve. You smile and swallow yawns, faking it for the hyper children and cheerful couples. 

When it slows, you work on cleaning the freezer, switching out empty containers with ones from the deep freeze. As you check the soft serve, there’s a tap on the open walk-up window. Oh shoot. You should’ve been paying better attention. 

You turn back to greet the next customer but as you approach the window, your chest deflates. Frozen, like the tubs around you. You stare at Andy as he smiles at you. He wears a short-sleeve button up with blue, grey, and white stripes. His hair blows in the soft breeze. 

“Do you have butterscotch ripple?” He asks brightly. 

You blink and hesitate. You don’t know what to do. How did he get here? How did he find you? Why is he here? 

You reach for the window and before he can stop you, you shut it. You lock it from the inside and step back. His face falls and his brow arches as he stands straight. He says your name, his voice muffled by the glass, and puts his palm to the barrier. 

“Please,” he begs. 

You shake your head and turn your back to him. If your manager was here, you’d be in shit. That’s a no-no. Never turn away a customer, only shut the window when you lock up. 

You ignore him and go back to tidying. There could be a line up out there but you don’t care. Your hands are shaking and it’s not just the temperature.

You just can’t believe he’s there. You can’t believe he won’t just give up. You don’t want to believe it because you’re afraid. You’re terrified and he seems entirely clueless about how scary he’s being. 

Flowers are one thing but showing up at your job? That’s a flaming red flag that even you can see. Not only because you told him plainly that you don’t want to talk to him again, but because he’s a grown man. Fortysomething and he can’t take a hint. Why would a man his age want to talk to someone as young as you? That’s another red flag on its own. As if catfishing you wasn’t enough. 

[emjiroki]

Pool Boy Yuuta Okkotsu x Lonely Housewife Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Infidelity, exhibitionism (outside), Yuuta is the lonely housewife slayer fight me

A/N: I'm back babies with Pool boy Yuuta for the lovely Wet Hot Slimeball summer block party collab event! My prompt was 'Humid' so I hope I captured the theme and everyone enjoys! @bastardblvd (look at Yuuta holding the pool skimmer! Im pretty proud of my editing skills)

Collab Masterlist

likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated

‘God they need to do something about this global warming shit’ You thought as the sun beat down. It had been storming over the last week in Grimetown so the humidity was intense; thick like you were being compressed and forced to breathe the water evaporating from the ground. And with the storms came strong winds, knocking small branches and a whole heap of leaves into the once pristine blue water of your pool. You had made plans to clean it out…soon, maybe ask that big man that stole your package and stuffed that block party flier in your mailbox to fix it, had really planned to ask your husband to do it before he left for two weeks on a “business trip”. It would be comical to believe that these trips were for business at this point, your husband coming home one too many times smelling of perfume that wasn’t the scent you wore. Something cheap and cloying that set a stone in your stomach. But you liked your life, all your bills were paid and your husband still treated you like you were his world, why bother rocking the boat over some whore? He’ll get bored with her eventually and come crawling back, take you on some big vacation as a secret sorry and it’ll be done with.

So here you were lounging on one of your pool chaises trying and failing to read your book with your brain a frenzy of thoughts when you vaguely heard a knock on the gate. You pulled on the slipcover for your bikini and went to open the hefty latch to the privacy fence. The sudden heat to your skin wasn’t from the sun beating down or the suffocating humidity, but most certainly from the man in front of you with a pool skimmer propped up on his shoulder. 

“I’m Yuuta Okkotsu from Grimetown Pool and Landscaping, sorry for the intrusion but I tried the front door and no one answered”. He seemed about your age, maybe a year or two younger, with sweet dark eyes and a handsomely cut jaw. Obviously fit under the company t-shirt that hugged his body. You bit your cheek slightly to try and keep your thoughts in check and not written across your face as you extended your hand to his to shake and introduced yourself. 

“I’m guessing you’re the poor soul that they sent to come clean my disaster of pool?” You asked opening the gate a bit wider for him.

“That’s what was on my schedule for today ma’am,” He said with a sheepish smile as he fumbled to close the gate latch behind him and followed you over to the poolside.

“And in this humidity too? Yikes,” You empathized, taking a discarded magazine from the table and fanning yourself as he surveyed the mess. 

“This will probably take a day or two to clean out and get balanced again,” Yuuta said with a determined look set on his face. 

“Please, take all the time you need” You requested, pulling the slip from your bikini off, “I’m assuming the husband will just write a check for whatever”. 

“R-Right, of course” He stammered, a rosy hue to his cheeks as he not so subtly looked you up and down. But he didn’t look away from your gaze when you made eye contact, going so far as to take a small step forward. You gave him a soft alluring smile before slipping your sunglasses on and lounging back in your chair.

“This humidity is a killer, let me know if you need anything” You commented as he pulled his phone from his pocket, assumedly to call his boss and tell them the plan.

“Oh I will, don’t worry,” He said with a lowkey promise in his tone that had you clenching. 

♡

An hour or two passed as he pulled out branches and skimmed the pool, the humidity absolutely baring down and making the air thick. You were glad for the sunglasses because you couldn’t help but stare when he stripped off his shirt. Sweat ran down his neck to the dip in his collarbones before rolling down his chest and chiseled abdomen, your eyes tracing the wet path down as you unconsciously clenched your legs together. You reached for your drink and realized the glass was empty, the ice slowly melting at the bottom.

“Yuuta, would you like a drink? Take a break in the a/c for a minute?” You called over as you gather your stuff to head back inside away from this killer heat. 

“Sure that would be great” He replied, pulling the skimmer from the water and setting it aside before quickly following you as you lead him in through the back door to the kitchen. The cool was a relief from the stagnant heat hovering around outside, Yuuta gratefully taking the towel you handed him and wiped his face and neck. 

“Water? Lemonade?” You asked as you opened the refrigerator, pulling the pitcher out and refilling your own glass.

“Lemonade is great, thanks” He huffed as he sat back in one of the bar chairs, pushing his damp black hair back away from his face. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t ogle for a moment, quickly turning away when looked up at you and filled the glass you pulled down for him. He said thank you again as you handed it to him, watching as he took a few big gulps of the cold liquid, his Adam's apple bobbing as he drank greedily. 

“You know Yuuta, I really wish my husband had a job like yours,” You commented, taking the seat next to him.

“Oh? And why’s that?” He asked, surprise in his tone but something curious and almost heated sparkling in his dark eyes. Damn, how could he be this pretty?

“Well, he’s always gone and I think the finance industry is making him dishonest” You admitted, casually messing with your discarded sunglasses on the island. The worst has already happened, at this point, you didn’t care about throwing yourself out there as you gently touched his fingers resting next to yours. 

“I’d be dishonest too if I got a house like this and a wife like you” He commented, a rosy hue to his cheeks though he didn't pull his hand away when you expected him to. 

“But the house is always so empty, it's lonely here… all by myself,” You said tracing one of your manicured nails up his hand to his forearm, goosebumps breaking across his skin, “He gives me everything I want but nothing that I need”. Yuuta turned slightly, leaning in close enough that a gasp escaped you, his dark eyes swimming with something you wanted to be devoured by.

“And what is it that you need?” He murmured, his lips close enough that you would only have to lean in an inch or two to feel them against yours, “Love? Good dick?”. It felt as if someone had lit a fire in your cheeks and it was rapidly traveling to the spot between your legs, your breath not filling your lungs anymore as his hand moved to your bare thigh. Your hands were shaking as you tried to take a drink from your glass, a small splash of lemonade running down your mouth to your chest. You squeaked out a soft moan when you felt his warm tongue against your skin, his mouth following the sour liquid down to the curve of your breast and sucking lightly in a soft kiss. Gripping his arms to keep yourself steady, he smiled up at you, that seemingly innocent shy boy smile from earlier. “Is that a yes?”.

♡

“Yuuta! Fuck!” You cried as he bottomed out inside of you for what seemed like the hundredth time today, you both barely able to get out of your bed this morning.

“You really never get tired do you?” He said with a chuckle, hissing as your walls squeezed around him, “Can’t even get my job done”. He’s right, hadn’t even gotten the chemicals ready for the pool before he was spread on the chaise lounge for you again, your thong bikini shredded by his eager hands and thrown somewhere in the yard. You were both slick with sweat from the heat, humidity ever present as you devoured each other for your neighbors on both sides to hear. His hands were rough against your ass as he squeezed and help you along to take his length, your hands on his sweaty chest as you bounced, spearing yourself on him again and again like you were possessed. 

“You’re just… so good” You moaned as he pulled you down to press against him, nipping his teeth across your throat and thrusting up into you. 

“Oh, you’re so good too beautiful, so fucking hot” He groaned, feeling your slick leaking out and running down to coat his balls in creamy white. He was so deep inside, carving out a place only his cock could satisfy, rutting into your soft walls like an animal. You couldn’t get enough as you moved your hips against his, his hand going up to wipe the drool from your lips as you fell apart.

“With a pussy like this I might just get obsessed,” He said his voice turning to a growl as you raised up again, his dark eyes seeming to grow darker as he watched your breasts bounce and the sweat rolling down your skin. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”. You nodded, groaning out a soft yes as the flames of your climax licked up your spine, your brain foggy with the heat and the pleasure buzzing through your bloodstream. If only your “husband” could see you right now, being ravaged into a puddle in this primal humidity.As if he heard your thoughts, your phone began to ring. You didn’t think to pick up, only looked when you saw Yuuta’s hand move. His hand wrapped around it, squeezing the volume button until it buzzed on silent, flipping it over. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you down to lay against his chest again, practically growling as he pressed your face to his throat and fucked so deep into you you could feel him battering your cervix. The sound that broke from your lips as you creamed around his cock was something you hadn’t heard before, breathy and wild.

“That’s right baby, cum on my cock as much as you want” He panted, his hands running soothingly up your back despite him still hammering into your sensitive pussy, “I’m your husband now, I’ll make him disappear and you'll be all mine won't you?”.

[dancingtotuyo]

Summer of '03

Joel Miller x Female Reader | A Woman Story

Rating: Pg- 13

Summary: The first time Joel sees you as the woman you've become.

Tags/Warnings: age gap (13ish years), baby sitter, consumption of alcohol, summer.

Notes: I'm calling this a bridge. A scene that happens in all the timelines and universes of my dear Woman Reader and Joel. Consider this the point of divergence. I wonder what happened with these two if the outbreak never happened? I suppose only time will tell... 😉

shoutout to @murder-wife and @guiltyasdave for beta reading! I love you both!

Words: 1412

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

Joel isn’t sure why he came. The Randolf’s summer pool party is a block tradition, but Sarah is at camp this year. Meaning, he had every excuse in the book to get out of it but here he is, standing against the fence, beer in his hand, watching as the kids jump in and out endlessly as burgers and hot dogs sizzle on the grill and folks lay out in the sun. 

It’s not that he dislikes these events. Maybe he finds them to draw on a little too long until people get just a little too sloppy drunk, but Joel has mastered the art of excusing himself early. He’s only a two minute walk down the street anyway. It’s just that there are usually other ways he would rather spend his Saturdays. He has a couple neglected projects calling his name in the garage, yet he still finds himself here. For tradition's sake, maybe? It doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things he supposes.

Joel shoves his free hand in the pockets of his jeans, taking another sip of his beer. It’s hot outside as condensation drips from the bottle. He finishes it off, the label peeling off the bottle. His eyes scan back over the crowd. Most of the neighborhood is here and if they’re not, Joel expects to find them filing in soon. 

He’s doing a second scan over the crowd when he makes eye contact with you across the pool. You’re sitting with a group of friends perched on a couple of lounge chairs with wine coolers in hand. Joel tries to think back to the last time he saw you. It must’ve been last summer before you headed out for your Senior year of college, the last time Tommy got himself into a bind and needed bailing out. 

You wave to him, offering up a smile and he returns the gesture with a tip of his bottle before you’re pulled back into conversation with your friends. Joel can’t help but notice a slight change in you over the past couple of years. He supposes it’s the growth from teen to adult. You graduated this past spring. He remembers Sarah talking about it, how excited she was for you when you landed the ER job. 

Someone calls Joel’s name, pulling his attention away from you. 

You’re only pretending to listen as your friend Mandy rattles on about her recent hook up. Usually, you’d be interested in the details she’s providing, but Joel Miller has you distracted. You had hoped you would be past the silly crush at this point in your life, but your eyes track him relentlessly. Watching as he makes idle conversation with some of the dad’s on the block. You wonder how he’s wearing jeans in this heat. You don’t mind. They make his ass look good. 

You’re an adult with a job now continuing to harbor feelings from highschool seems silly, but there’s that little voice in your head now, the one that says you’re old enough now.. You’re an adult now. You’ve entered the workforce. You try to block out that voice. Joel Miller is not what you need, but you still want him. 

“Hey!” Mandy snaps her fingers in front of your face, pulling you back to the group. 

“Sorry, what did I miss?” You adjust your sunglasses, taking a sip of your drink as you make a concentrated effort to stay present with your friends. 

“Are you still hung up on the DILF?” Maryanne teases. 

“DILF? Where?” Whitney pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, looking over the flock of people. 

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as Mandy points him out. Whitney is less and subtle. “You grew up with THAT across the street?” 

“Will you be quiet? Someone is gonna hear you.” You swat at your friends. 

“I’m just saying, I understand the crush now.”

“I don’t have a crush on him anymore.” You lie through your teeth and you’re bad at it. 

Mandy rolls her eyes. “Yeah right.”

“He is very handsome,” Maryanne adds.

You finish off your drink. “Can we stop ogling him now? He’s gonna catch y’all.”

“Really? You’ve been doing it for years, we can’t for five minutes?” Mandy winks. 

“From the woman who told me she didn’t see it.”

“Hey! I’m older and wiser now,” Mandy says. 

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your eyes from wandering to the man of the hour. You really need to get over this crush. “I’m going to cool off.” You finish off your wine cooler, dropping your cover up before jumping into the pool before your friends can reply. 

Joel lost count of his drinks around number three or four. He’s pacing himself, but between the heat and the ease in which his drinks are going down, he’s feeling the easy buzz of the beer. He’s stayed longer than he ever intended to, but he’s okay with that. 

Joel wanders inside to use the bathroom. The AC feels nice on his sweat sheened skin. People gather in the kitchen, a couple walk through the house. There’s more people than he knows here. He’ll hand it to the Randolfs. They know how to throw a party.

He’s grateful to find the bathroom unoccupied, locking it behind him. He’s quick about his business, splashing cool water against his face and neck. It clears his mind some. He should head home soon. He’ll be grumpy if he doesn’t take some time to himself. 

He’s barely flipped the lock when the door flies open, you falling in with it. He’s almost hit by the door yet somehow manages to catch you as well. You’re a fit of loose giggles as his arms wrap around your torso, meeting the sun warmed skin exposed by your bikini. 

“Careful there, Sweetheart. You nearly took me out.” Joel can’t help the chuckle in his voice. He’s used to seeing you on the clock when you’re responsible for his child. This is a very different version of you, but he can’t help but find it endearing. 

“Sorry.” You manage to straighten up, but even through the boozy haze, Joel’s touch sears against your skin. Your cheeks warm over and it’s from much more than the sun. 

He smiles at you, helping you right yourself, but his hands stay against your back. Yours settle flat on his solid chest. “You get a little carried away?”

“Don’t tell my parents.” You barely manage to wink, making him laugh even harder. 

“My lips are sealed.” 

“Oh good,” You sigh in relief as if Joel just did you the biggest favor of your life and you’re not of legal drinking age. “You’re a good man, Joel.” You pat his chest. 

“Thank you.”

“Can you leave now?”

“Sure thing.” He smiles at you, ensuring you’re stable on your feet before he slips by you, his searing touch gone. 

The loss of his touch sobers your intoxicated body. You can’t help but watch him go, cotton t shirt stretching temptingly across his shoulders. Chills form on your sides, phantoms of his touch still teasing you. You watch the empty hall in front of you, replaying the moment in your head for longer than you’ll ever admit to anyone. 

Joel lets out a long shaky breath as he walks right out the front door, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. It’s a quick walk home, even with the buzz of the alcohol in his veins. On the walk home, he attempts to clear his mind of what happened, but he can still feel your soft skin under his hands. He can smell the sweet mixture of sunscreen and you like you’re still in his arms. 

When he makes it home, he still hasn’t flushed the sensations of you from his mind. The way you looked in that swimsuit, hugging you perfectly. He knows it’s wrong. It makes him a dirty old man. The more he tries, the more he thinks about it. The more he replays it in his mind. He has no right to think about you like this, to view you as desirable. 

Joel takes another deep breath, resting his head against the front door. You called him a good man, but a good man doesn’t fall into this trap: the babysitter, the girl next door. He repeats that to himself. Girl. You’re a girl, but his brain keeps reminding him that you are a woman now.  

Woman Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa

[justsomerandomfanfic]

We Meet Again - Eggsy Unwin X Female Reader

Title: We Meet Again

Eggsy Unwin X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's boss

| Part 2 |

WC: 3,004

Warnings: Kingsman canon violence, guns, Reader is also a spy, spy stuff, suggestive (not a lot, but references a few suggestive things, none play out), teasing, banter, flirting, cursing, nicknames, slight angst, and fluff

"Target's turning the corner," You muttered, pushing your shades up, the sun blinding, as you briskly walked down the sidewalk, easily maneuvering past pedestrians as you followed the man a couple of hundred feet in front of you. You stuffed your hands into your overcoat pockets, eyes trained on the man whom you had been following for the past couple of days.

"Don't lose sight of him, Agent." The voice in your ear spoke just as the man you were following turned down another corner. "We need to know where he's going."

"I'm on it, calm yourself, would you?" You grumbled, your hand brushing against the rough brick wall of a building as you turned the corner, pausing as your eyebrows furrowed. "He's... He's entering a bookstore?" You relay, confused.

There was silence on the other line as you began walking towards the small, hole-in-the-wall bookstore, "Proceed with caution." Your boss then spoke.

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sigh as you pressed your hand against the swinging door, pushing it open as a bell rang from above you, signaling the workers or owner of your arrival. You lightly surveyed the room, taking in the small bookstore. 

You took note of the two workers behind the counter, lightly chatting with one another - eating their lunch, and the old woman sitting at a small table with a coffee in her hand, book in the other. It was actually a really nice-looking bookstore, and if this was any other day - when you weren't working - you probably would've enjoyed reading a book or two; you could easily imagine yourself sitting at one of the tables, reading a mystery novel. But today was different. Today, you wanted to reach your target, find out what you needed, and leave without getting caught.

The bookshelves in the little shop lined up in rows, giving way to the back wall where there were a few more tables and chairs, all covered by a white cloth. A large sign hung on the far wall, proclaiming 'Bookstore' in big, neon, red letters, and 'A Place Where Dreams Come True!' was written on a poster below in swirly orange letters, to the right side of it.

Slowly, you walked to an aisle beside your target, watching him from your peripheral vision as you tried to blend in and pretend that you were just any other regular, day-to-day, human being looking for a book. As you walked down the aisle, you let your fingers brush from spine to spine; you spotted several novels about time travel, some sci-fi, fantasy, and even an entire section dedicated to cowboy romance novels.

You then turned to look at the long bookshelf behind you, while allowing your gaze to peer through the tops of the books. You surveyed what you could of him, tilting your head slightly as you watched his hand reach out and grab a book from his side of the shelf, opening it, and placing it back a moment later. He was looking for something... But, the question was... What was he looking for?

Turning around again, you faced the previous shelf, grabbing a handful of random books before piling them in your arms. Then, you made your move, walking down your row of bookshelves and turning into his. Looking down at your books, you tried to pretend that you weren't paying any attention before bumping right into the target. You and the target staggered back slightly, your books falling from your arms - and the few in his - as you gasped.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry for bumping into you like that," You dropped to your knees, beginning to grab some of the books that you had 'accidentally' dropped. "I am such a klutz."

The man bent down on one knee, shaking his head as he began to pick up some of the books with you, "It's no problem. You like thrillers?"

“Hmm?” You paused at his question, looking up slightly to see the book in his hand that you had randomly grabbed, "Oh, yeah... I find them... Thrilling." You answered, feigning nervousness and embarrassment as you finished collecting the books in a neat stack in front of your knees.

The man was silent, as you felt his eyes on you, staring. You took a chance, glancing up at him above the rims of your sunglasses, your gaze finding his. His head was tilted to the side slightly, like some confused puppy, as his lips turned downward in a frown. It took only a split second for him to realize who you were, both continuing to stare at each other as your lips twitched; threatening to turn into a mischievous grin. With a flicker in his eyes, a knowing look soon found its way upon his face. 

But before you could even say a word, he swiftly pulled out his handgun, silencer at the ready, from his satchel. You let your smirk falter as he raised the gun to point directly at your chest, “You finally remembered to bring a silencer. Good for you…" You trailed off softly, quietly so as to not draw attention to the both of you, but deadly enough as you gave the gun one glance before slowly sitting up, raising your hands in the air beside your head. Why did he have to be so good at his job?

"Y/N... Long time, no see." He tried to play off, a grin creeping across his face. It had been a long time, seven months long. You hadn’t seen him since Rio. “You seemed to have forgotten how to properly tail someone. Miss me or something?"

"I'm not here for a reunion, Unwin." You responded, "Now, I'm going to stand up, slowly." You carefully demanded, your eyes never leaving his as you both slowly stood.

"Now," He began, as he took a few steps closer; a foot or so distance between the both of you. "Hand me the file, love."

"File? What file?" You asked, feigning innocence as you widened your eyes and tilted your head to the side. Blinking owlishly, “I don't have a file.”

His furrowed brows lifted slightly as he gave you a lopsided smile, letting out a small awkward laugh - between a laugh and a scoff; you could tell that he was clearly in discomfort, trying to lift the tension with his words. "This is quite the predicament you put me in here." There was no point in lying anymore. He knew you had it… Somehow.

"And I assure you, it'll be much worse if you don't put down that gun." You threatened, hating how much your arms were beginning to ache, "I'm not giving you the file, Eggsy."

"Oh, how I love it when you say my name, love." He sighed out, his tone almost taunting as you narrowed your eyes.

Clicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth, lowering one of your hands, pressing the small button on your earpiece, silencing it; allowing you to speak freely without your boss hearing. "Why do you have to be so frustrating?" You exclaimed, glaring daggers at the man before you.

Eggsy only shrugged, "I'm just trying to do my job." He answered before you caught him by surprise when you grabbed his wrist. In a matter of seconds, you moved your forearm over his, forcing him to bend at his waist as the arm that held the gun pressed horizontally against your stomach. With a sharp tug of your free hand, you pulled the gun from him, watching as he stumbled back. Blinking slightly, he frowned - obviously upset with himself at the fact that you so easily took his gun, "... Which you are delaying." He added, voice sounding a bit strained as he glanced from you, to the gun, and back. "I see you still got the moves." He mimicked your previous stance, raising his hands in the air.

"I'm just trying to do my job too," You lowered the gun slightly, resting it against his gut, "And taking your gun was almost too easy, Eggsy." You countered, trying to ignore how close you were to him; your eyes subconsciously drifting down his body, your heart beginning to hammer against your ribcage as you again met his gaze, "I just want to know what you know." You lowered your voice, your expression softening ever so slightly.

"What I know?" Eggsy huffed out a laugh, "I don't know any more than you do." He paused, letting his eyes flicker over your face for a moment - seemingly thinking - before continuing, "We could always come together and exchange notes-"

You narrowed your eyes, feeling your face flush slightly, "I am not going to let this turn into the last time we met."

Last time? Last time in Rio. That night that was filled with dancing, drinking, and getting intel. You were on a mission, a mission that crossed over with Eggsy’s. There had always been that palpable tension that had kept you drawn to each other. Something you'd never experienced before. It had been months since the two of you had run into each other - not even your missions could keep you both apart for long it seemed - ‘It was fate,’ Eggsy said one time - and you had your high doubts, but you were beginning to believe it. It was kind of strange just how many times you bumped into him, the sight of him still got to you every single time though.

There were so many times that you and Eggsy would meet on these missions and things would inevitably end up with the two of you in compromising positions together. You hated how wrapped around his finger you were, you hated how much he affected you. So, you pushed him away, trying desperately to stay distant. But, it was hard, hard to forget about him, hard to pretend that what you were feeling wasn't real, hard to forget his face, his voice, his scent, and his touch. Even now, you had to force yourself to stop from just smiling. You had to admit, despite yourself, you were almost glad to see him again. But, that night could never repeat itself. Not now, not when you were trying to get your job done.

You shook your head, "Stop playing around." You admonished, not wanting to admit anything to him. You hated the fact that you couldn't even act naturally around him. You hated the fact that you could barely breathe around him. You hated the fact that, whenever he was near, you found yourself flustered and nervous. And you especially hated the way your heart raced whenever you were near him... Eggsy was making things difficult, as always.

"Well, if you must know..." Eggsy began, "I think you liked it just as much as I did, love." He continued, his voice low and husky as you tried your best to remain calm, but your heart was racing. You didn't want this conversation to end up anywhere near the bedroom... Or the shower... Or anywhere else where things were more intimate with him.

You ignored his comment, your eyes snapped away from his, and glanced down at the satchel that he was wearing, "I can't let you jeopardize this mission for me, Eggsy."

Eggsy said nothing, still grinning as he quickly grabbed a hold of your gun, forcing your arm up, and spinning you around; your back hitting his chest and expelling a small ‘umph’ from you. Locking you against his body with his other arm and yours, he used his free hand to expel the magazine before pulling back the slide barrel; you watched in anguish as the bullet flew through the air almost in slow-motion and onto the ground with the magazine.

Sighing deeply, you finally acknowledged the way his hot breath tickled your neck, how the muscles in his arms flexed as he held you tight against him. "You never make things easy, do you?" You huffed, "I should have known better than to expect anything different."

Eggsy chuckled, nudging his nose to the hair on the side of your head before muttering, "Well, I guess that's one thing we've both got in common." Goosebumps began to rise from your arms at the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, causing a familiar heat to build between the two of you.

"I really don't have time for this." You tried to push out of his arms, but his grip tightened around you, keeping you pinned to his chest.

"You were the one that has been following me." He pointed out, a smug grin on his lips as you felt your heart begin to pound in your ears. The warmth from his body bled into your clothes, sinking into your skin the longer you stayed pressed up against him. You were struggling to focus. "You wouldn't want to tell me why, would you?"

Oh, how you hated him sometimes, how cocky he got. Though you also knew that he was just confident in his capabilities, it still irritated the hell out of you. You could already imagine the expression on his face. You could already picture the smug smile plastered on his handsome features as he held you so close to him. You could already see his eyes glimmering as they gazed down at you. He was loving this…

It was hard to concentrate, trying to think of a way out of this predicament as you felt as if your entire being was being engulfed in the smell of pine, and musk that was so incredibly intoxicatingly him... And... And...

And then, after all those thoughts ran through your mind, you snapped yourself out of it and back into action. Lifting your shoe, you slammed your heel down onto his foot, hard. You heard his breath catch in his throat as he groaned, and as his arms loosened around you, you quickly used your momentum to spin around. Raising your free hand, you grabbed the back of his neck, pushing his head towards yours; discomfort all over his face from the sudden pain to his foot.

You tilted your head slightly as you stared into those ocean-blue eyes of his, watching as his scrunched up face slowly softened as his eyes met yours. You then became acutely aware of how his tongue slid out between his lips to wet them, and how his eyelashes fluttered as he blinked several times - knowing full well what you were doing to him.

"I'm not telling you shit, Eggsy." You spoke, your voice barely above a murmur as the corner of his lips twitched up slightly.

He leaned into you a little bit more, moving his hands to rest on your hips. "It's alright, love." He answered, his voice low, matching yours, "I already got what I needed."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Eggsy pulled away, giving you one last grin before speeding his way out of the aisle and out of the bookstore. Mind racing, you patted down your jacket, eyes widening as you opened your jacket; only to find the file that was securely placed in the large inside pocket was gone.

Turning towards the window facing the outside of the shop, your eyes flickered from person to person before you spotted Eggsy. A mixture of disappointment, inner pain, and anger crossed your face as you watched him hurry across the street and start climbing into the passenger seat of a black car parked on the curb.

"... Oh, gosh." You muttered, shaking your head as you clicked your tongue to the roof of your mouth, "This is a damn mess..." You sighed, gritting your teeth as you clenched your fists tightly in frustration as you reached up and turned your earpiece back on; the fear of disappointing your boss rising once more. "I got some bad news, boss." You relayed, "He stole the file."

It was silent on the other line for a moment, and you felt a sense of dread creep down your spine. "He got the file?" Your boss's voice was calm, unnervingly so. "How the hell did he get it from you?" His tone suddenly became more annoyed, "I told you to watch him and just find out what he knows."

"I understand that, sir," You huffed, "I thought I could just talk it out of him... I wasn't expecting the gun-"

"Agent Montgomery." Your boss cut you off, "How long have you been an agent?"

You sighed, rubbing your cheek before getting down on your knees and collecting the gun, magazine, and stray bullet, pocketing them. "Six years, sir."

"Then you already know that you should always assume another spy has a gun or any other weapon, no matter where you go or what you do." You nodded, even though he couldn't see; his voice was stern as he continued, "Even if you think your target won't be armed, you should always assume they will be. I shouldn’t have to say this. If this happens again, you’re back on desk duty."

Running a hand through your hair, you pinched the bridge of your nose, "I'll get the file back, sir." You assured him before grabbing the books on the floor and taking them into your arms once more, "He can't get any further without the key." You finished, placing the books back on the shelf that you had gotten them from.

"Good." Your boss responded. You took a deep breath and wiped your still-warm cheeks with your palms, sighing as you straightened out your attire.

"He left in a black car, the license plate is '2FD224.'" You added while proceeding to leave the small bookstore that you made a mental note to come back and visit in the future.

Slipping your shades securely upon the bridge of your nose, your boss spoke up, "Do you know where he's heading next, Agent?"

You pursed your lips, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets, as you venture out into the bright sun. "Italy."

---

Main Masterlist | Kingsman Masterlist

---

Should I make a part 2?

[mindibindi]

Fourteen is just gonna turn that second TARDIS into a library, isn't he? It's gonna grow weeds around the bottom as it sits there in the backyard next to Rose's TARDIS. He's gonna dig through all of his outer space logs and find the weirdest creatures in the universe and then he's gonna sprint across and shove a picture in her face and say: Hey think you can make THIS one?? And all her customers are gonna be like: WHERE do you come up with this stuff?? And she'll tell em her uncle helps.

Over time, the TARDIS will learn to chill out too, grow smaller and slower and dimmer. The Doctor will get special issues and old tomes and otherworldly pamphlets delivered to Wilf's old newsstand and he'll wheel Wilf down to collect them and get a sneaky pie while Sylvia isn't looking. Sylvia is gonna say the TARDIS is too chilly (even though she barely steps inside the thing for fear of it flitting off with her) so she's gonna bring CHAIRS and pillows and throws and cups of tea. Mostly because Rose and her Dad like to hang out in there. Definitely not for the Doctor himself. (Although he does like her tuna madras better than anyone else does, so maybe she brings him some of that. Just so it doesn't go to waste). Sean will build the Doctor a desk and a little patio around the TARDIS perimeter so he can sit outside and sun himself. And when Donna comes home from a hard day's work at UNIT, he's gonna throw thick volumes at her, saying: oh I know what that is, read this, that'll help. And Donna will be like: WHY do I gotta read a big ole book when YOU can just TELL ME what we're dealing with? And Fourteen's gonna be like: oh no, I'm retired. And I'm working on a full written history of [insert weird alien name -- probly the horsey alien thing from "Wild Blue Yonder"]. But now and again, when things get really dire, she will persuade him to come to UNIT as a consultant. The TARDIS will stay put tho, it'll just keep growing grass around the bottom and gathering leaves on top. Instead, he'll chuck Donna the keys to the car and say: You're driving (and then he'll complain about her driving the whole way as he is scrunched up against the car door because Donna now has full license from UNIT to be a hoon).

[heyjudeb]

Lake Secrets - Jude Bellingham

Chapter 2: You Can Trust Me

Summary: Grace Alexander Arnold, an architecture student, looks forward to a quiet summer at her brother Trent's lake villa. Her plans change when Trent's best friend, Jude Bellingham, arrives with his family. As Grace and Jude spend more time together, a secret romance begins to grow. Amidst the peaceful lake and family gatherings, will their hidden feelings last, or will they fade away with the summer? Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: fluff, emotional moment, anxiety

Note: The story will develop more in this chapter, they will share intimate moments

“Come on, Jude, that was way too far!” Trent complained as he swam toward the ball, which had splashed down several yards away. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the lake.

“Sorry, my bad!” I called back, laughing. Jobe splashed water at me playfully, shaking his head.

“You always go overboard, bro,” Jobe said with a grin. “Literally.”

Everyone else was sitting near the shore, either deep in conversation or doing their own thing. Diane and my mom were chatting under a large umbrella, while Trent’s dad was stretched out on a lounge chair, soaking up the sun.

Grace was sitting on a towel, a book in her hands. Every so often, she would look up, watching us play. Her gaze lingered, and it was clear she was admiring the sight of us having fun in the water. She looked like she wanted to join in but was holding back.

She was wearing a white short dress with straps that stood on her forearms, revealing her bare shoulders. She always made sure to pull the strap up on her left shoulder as if to cover something. We would sometimes make eye contact and smile. Anytime I said something funny, I felt the need to look for her approval, which I got every time.

"Hey, Grace. Why don't you join us?" Jobe, my brother, called out. Her smile slowly turned into a worried expression, and she sat up from laying on her stomach.

"I'm good, Jobe. I don't feel like swimming today!"

"She's not into this, mate," Trent quickly spoke for her. I couldn't help but wonder if there might be something more to this, but I decided to let it go.

I also wanted to take a break. We'd been in the water for almost an hour, and I was hungry. Diane and Grace had prepared some delicious snacks that morning in the kitchen: cookies, mini sandwiches, and a variety of other treats. I had watched Grace make them while I ate a late breakfast of cereal at the dining table next to the kitchen. She looked effortlessly pretty while cooking, even in casual clothes and with her hair in a simple braid. Her face was slightly puffy from sleep, her skin clear and fresh. I couldn't help but think how lovely it would be to wake up and see her first thing in the morning. She seemed like the kind of girl who would understand you, truly get your inner self, and make life easier by being the best partner. She didn’t come across as complicated to deal with, yet she still held an air of mystery.

"Alright, how about we take a break to eat?" Trent said, as if reading my thoughts.

We all nodded and got out of the water. Diane handed each of us a towel and put the food basket in front of us where we sat. I munched on the mini sandwiches Grace had prepared, trying to catch a glimpse of her without making it obvious.

"Sweetie, do you want something too?" my mom asked Grace, making her look up from her book. She nodded and placed the book aside, moving to sit between me and Trent.

She grabbed a sandwich and started eating. Jobe was making everyone laugh, and her attempts to laugh without spitting out her food were very cute. Eventually, everyone gathered around to eat until there was no food left.

As dusk approached, our parents decided to call it a day, leaving only me, Jobe, Trent, and Grace by the lake. They gathered everything and took the short walk back to the villa, leaving us with some towels and our clothes. "How about we take another swim before leaving?" Jobe asked, winking at me. I couldn’t quite understand what he was hinting at.

"Sure, bro. Let's do it!" Trent agreed, and we all stood up, except for Grace. She remained seated, avoiding our looks. "Wanna make a run for it?" Trent looked at me, and I laughed and nodded in response. Jobe held back as we made a run for it, but then I heard a scream from behind me, causing Trent and me to halt and spin around. Grace was screaming, and Jobe was carrying her towards the water, trying to make a joke of it.

"Please, Jobe! Put me down! I don't want to go into the water!" Grace continued to scream, kicking as Jobe neared the water's edge. There was a raw edge of panic in her voice, verging on tears.

"No, Jobe, stop!" Trent yelled, sprinting towards them, clearly alarmed.

Jobe sensed the seriousness of the situation and stopped, slowly setting Grace down on her feet. She clutched her chest, blinking rapidly, trying to compose herself and hold back tears.

"I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't mean to scare you," Jobe said, regret plain in his voice.

I approached cautiously, standing behind Trent, who was comforting her with soothing touches on her shoulders. Grace looked distant, trying to regain her composure.

"Hey, Grace. Are you okay?" I asked softly, my concern evident. I wanted nothing more than to hold her close and calm her racing heart.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Grace quickly replied, her gaze darting between all of us, overwhelmed by the rush of questions. "It's okay! I just panicked because... It was sudden."

Trent wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "Hey, how about we call it a day, too?" We all nodded and gathered our towels. I kept my concerned gaze on Grace, which she seemed to notice. She flashed a faint smile at me and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, letting me know she was alright. I gave her one more questioning look.

"I'm okay!"

"Alright, good," I whispered back to her, feeling a bit awkward, like I was crossing a line between caring and flirting, especially with Trent nearby. We continued walking towards the villa, and Jobe kept apologizing to Grace repeatedly until she finally convinced him she was okay. She seemed chilly in her short dress as she tried to wrap a dirty towel around her shoulders.

"Here," I pulled her aside from the group and draped my zipper hoodie over her shoulders. She hesitated at first but then placed her hands on top of mine, gently squeezing them.

"Thank you, Jude," she said softly, walking beside me while the boys walked ahead. She held the book close to her chest, and my oversized hoodie looked like a dress on her.

"Still hooked on Bukowski, I see?" I asked, smiling at her.

"Yeah, another day, reading the same thing," she replied with a smile, glancing down. I noticed she found it difficult to maintain eye contact with me, even though her green eyes had been the subject of my daydreams since we arrived. I fought the urge to let her know that.

"You have beautiful eyes, you know?" I lost the battle. She seemed taken aback by my comment, continuing to look down but smiling nonetheless. "Thank you!"

"Are you always this shy?"

"Depends on who I'm talking to," she replied, finally meeting my gaze after a moment's pause. "Some people are intimidating." "Am I one of them?" I asked, feeling like I might have put her on the spot, but our conversation was going so well I wanted to keep it going. "Maybe!" she replied with a playful smirk, giving me a thoughtful look that made me laugh.

....

As soon as we reached the house, we took showers and changed into fresh clothes, all gathering on the backyard patio one by one. Grace was the last one to come down. We were all having a glass of wine by the firepit, laughing and talking. I couldn't really make out her figure until she approached fully because of the dark.

Her braids were out, and her hair lay on her shoulders, still wearing my hoodie. She looked comfortable in it, and it suited her better than me. Miraculously, the only empty spot was a bean bag next to me. She approached slowly and smiled at me as the fire illuminated my face.

"Hey," she spoke softly.

"Hey, you feeling better?" I asked, wanting to make sure she was comfortable after the incident at the lake.

She gave me an assuring smile. Our voices drowned in the noise of the others talking, the fire crackling, and lots of laughter. It felt like it was just the two of us. The darkness provided a sort of shield for me to freely look at her.

"Are you enjoying your stay so far?" she asked, keeping our conversation going.

"So far, so good. I really like this place!" I responded. "The house is very nice, and the view is breathtaking."

"It is," she said, either looking at my face or down at her hands while talking. "It will be a nice vacation break for you guys!"

"You said you've been coming here with your family every summer," I recalled her words from the first day. "Do you still find the place exciting?"

She sighed and leaned further into the bean bag. "Uh, yeah! But, the older I get, the more I want to experience other places as well. My dad isn't really a big fan of me traveling alone or staying someplace else... to study alone."

It felt like she was confessing an issue of hers. I wanted her to trust me, to feel comfortable talking to me about anything. I'm sure she doesn't do that very often. "I want to do my major abroad. But my dad wants me 'close' to him." she used air quotes and seemed hurt and defeated remembering her father's words. "Why is that?" "Just a stupid conclusion my dad has." She didn't want to continue the conversation, so I didn't push her any further.

While having a good time with everyone, the fire slowly started to die down. I took a look and saw Grace already asleep on her bean bag. She brought her legs up to her chest, and put her hands all the way inside my hoodie, holding them near her face.

"Guys, I'm calling it a night. I'm really tired," my dad said, and my mother agreed, getting up to leave with him.

"Yeah, it’s been a long day," Trent said, stretching. "I think I’ll turn in too." He followed my parents inside.

Jobe yawned and nodded. "Me too. This vacation life is wearing me out." Trent's mom noticed Grace fast asleep on the bean bag. She approached her slowly, lightly tapping her on the shoulder. "Sweetheart, we're heading to bed. How about you continue your sleep in your room?"

Grace hummed in response, not really registering what her mother was saying. Diane looked at me, and we both smiled at Grace's sleepy state. Diane tried waking her up again, but Grace only opened and closed her eyes a few times, not fully awake.

"Do you want me to take her up to her room, Mrs. Arnold?" I offered, not wanting to disturb her. Diane looked at me gratefully and nodded.

I stood up from my bean bag and carefully scooped Grace into my arms. She naturally nestled her head into the crook of my neck, her hands tucked inside the hoodie's sleeves, close to her chest. She felt like the missing piece of my puzzle, fitting perfectly in my arms.

Once we got inside, I said goodbye to Diane. Her room was on the first floor. She wished me goodnight and entered quietly, trying not to wake her sleeping husband who had called it a night way before us.

I took slow and careful steps on the stairs, fully aware of their creaking. After each step, I glanced at Grace, ensuring she wasn't disturbed. When I reached her bedroom door, I struggled to open it slightly.

Thankfully, her bedside lamp was on for some reason, casting a soft glow and helping me navigate the unfamiliar room. I placed her delicately on the bed. She snuggled her face into the pillow as soon as it touched the soft surface, her eyes slowly fluttering open.

"Thank you..." she managed to say in a raspy, low voice.

"Of course. Have a good night's sleep, Grace," I responded. My inner self urged me to kiss her forehead goodnight. Instead, I gently pulled the bed cover up to her shoulders. That's when I noticed a scar on her left shoulder, where my fallen hoodie exposed her skin. It was on the side she had tried to hide earlier at the lake. I brushed my fingers on it slightly, causing her to shiver. I stood up from the bed and turned off the light next to her, slowly making my way out of the room and into my own. I took off my shirt and shorts and crashed into bed only wearing my boxers. I was a bit tired myself too, but I really wanted to know the history behind that scar. .....

It had been more than a week since we arrived. Our families' bond had grown significantly over these days. Aside from our morning exercises and evening talks, I rarely spent time with Trent alone.

Our mothers were really enjoying the villa, constantly cooking something new and sipping wine on the porch. Our dads engaged in debates over various topics, beers in hand, as they relaxed by the lakeside. And then, there were always the four of us doing things together.

And green is still my favorite color.

My obsession with Grace has grown. The more time we spend together, the more she begins to trust me. Now, she maintains eye contact while we talk. She opens up about her passion for architecture, detailing her studies, her close bond with Trent, and sharing her likes and dislikes. I find myself struggling with the question of whether Grace feels a deeper connection toward me or if she is simply being friendly. It seems more than mere coincidence that we always end up seated next to each other, and that chores are consistently assigned to us as a pair.

She still has my hoodie. The other night, as we both got up for some water, I caught sight of her in the kitchen, wearing my hoodie and shorts. There was a moment of surprise in her eyes when she noticed me. She quickly tried to explain, mentioning how comfortable it was and apologizing, saying she would return it.

Instead of insisting, I simply said, "No, keep it. It looks way better on you."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, a soft smile playing on her lips. It was a spontaneous comment, but one that felt right in the moment. Seeing her wear my hoodie, looking effortlessly comfortable and somehow even more attractive, stirred a warmth in me that I couldn't deny. Let's go for a swim today, lads," Trent interrupted my racing thoughts.

Jobe eagerly agreed, but Grace lowered her gaze and muttered something under her breath. It wasn't the first time she had declined to swim. Despite hanging out with us by the lake, she never ventured into the water.

Sitting together on the patio bean bags, Trent and Jobe moved to prepare for swimming while I stayed behind, drawing closer to Grace, hoping for a moment of privacy.

"Hey, is there a reason you never join us in the lake?" I asked softly.

Her discomfort was palpable, evident in the way she shifted in her seat." It's just not my thing-" she spoke quickly.

"Can you come with us this one time? Please!" I pleaded, hoping to convince her. But as soon as I noticed her beautiful green eyes getting foggy, I knew I shouldn't push her further.

"I'll just stay in my room this time," she said quickly, standing up and leaving before I could say anything else. Her sudden outburst left a lingering sense of concern in the air. .....

We we're back at the dining table in the evening, enjoying another meal after a tiring day at the lake with only us boys. Grace hasn't spoken to me since our last encounter earlier. She quickly munched on something and excused herself sitting at the far end of the backyard near the lake view in the complete dark, with the excuse of wanting to read in peace. Me and the others had a normal routine, had a glass of wine and then went to bed. In my room, I could still see her silhouette by the lake. I decided to go up to her. Everyone was asleep, the only source of light being the moon once again. I tried to make some sound while I approached her from afar, not wanting to scare her. She turned around to look at me, giving me a tired smile and then focused her eyes back at the lake. I sat next to her. Our shoulders brushing. "You know you can trust me, right?" I asked her directly.

"I know," she replied softly, her gaze still fixed on the lake.

"Why are you afraid to swim, Grace?"

She remained silent for a moment, as if weighing whether to open up to me. I reassured her with a gentle touch on her knee.

Her breathing became more audible, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

"It's just..." Her voice cracked, and she fell silent again.

"It's okay. Take your time. I'm right here for you." I held her hand firmly, feeling it tremble slightly in mine. "You know that scar you saw on my shoulder the other night?" she asked. I nodded at her, but still surprised she could remember that in her sleeping state. "It happened when i was younger while swimming. Do you see that empty looking house right there?" I nodded. " That's where Lily used to live." "Used to?" I became curious of where she's going with this and why was it affecting her so much. "She died. She was my childhood bestfriend." She let out a small sob, i quickly wrapped my arm around her shoulder, providing her some comfort.

"There's an old pier on the other side of the lake, hidden away now. Lily and I used to go there to play. One day, we were climbing around it, and Lily slipped. She grabbed my leg instinctively, pulling me into the water with her. She hit her head on the metal as we fell."

She paused, her eyes distant as she relived the memory.

"Lily suffered a head injury and died instantly." Grace continued, her voice catching. "I had a hurt leg and some scratches, making it hard for me to stay above the water. But I managed to pull her now-red and bloody body from the water and call for help."

Grace looked at me with sad eyes, almost as if seeking closure. I kissed her forehead gently and rubbed her forearm in reassurance, but she still seemed scared and shaky after all these years.

"So you never swam anymore?" I asked softly. She shook her head, her expression pained. "I'm afraid something bad will happen," she murmured.

"I understand," I said, kissing her temple again. I held her like that for a long time, whispering sweet nothings to her. "But what if we try something different?"

I gently took her hand and helped her stand up. Slowly, I guided her towards the water, feeling her resistance as she shook her head vigorously.

"Hey, hey, hey," I murmured soothingly, holding both her hands. "I'm not going to push you or anything, sweetheart. Just relax."

She nodded hesitantly, her gaze locked with mine, her eyes reflecting fear and uncertainty.

"We will stop whenever you want to. Let's just try to put our foot inside the water," I suggested gently.

"No, no. Jude, no please!" Grace's voice was alarmed, filled with fear.

I cupped her face in my hands and gently placed her forehead against mine, holding her close. "You can trust me, Grace." .......... Coming up next:

Chapter 3: Favorite Poem

Warnings: fluff, physical contact, crying, angst

[mj-iza-writer]

Rough grumpy Caretaker... how I love them. -MJ

Warning.... swear words used.

Caretaker peaked in to check on Whumpee, they had just put them down for a nap.

They slightly opened the door and caught Whumpee darting into the bed.

"You better have a really good reason for being out of that bed", Caretaker opened the door further.

"I'm sorry Caretaker, I....", Whumpee started to violently cough.

"Oh Whumpee fuck off and give me a break", Caretaker slipped into his old British sailer accent.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to grab my book, and then you came along", Whumpee pleaded.

"I didn't put you to bed to read. You are very sick and need to sleep. That temperature of yours could freaken cook an egg", Caretaker sighed as they started to tuck Whumpee back into the blankets.

Whumpee groaned as the blankets were violently shoved under them.

"Ouch, can we be a little gentler please", Whumpee winced, "I am sick after all."

"Oh hush", Caretaker held a cup of water and offered Whumpee a drink, "now if I come back to this room again and you are up, I will tie you to the bed. Am I clear? I better hear happy Whumpee snores."

Whumpee grinned.

"I mean it, unless you are getting a drink or going to the bathroom do not get up", Caretaker sighed as they set the cup down, "work with me here. Your complexion is horrendous, I mean, white paint has more color. Plus, your trash bin is overflowing with tissue for the second time today."

Whumpee nodded, "I'm sorry Caretaker."

Caretaker ran his hand through Whumpee's sweaty hair, "that's better. Now, we need to focus on you getting better. Please try to get some rest, I'll have some food and medicine ready for you when you wake up... okay?"

Whumpee nodded again, "thankyou."

Caretaker waited thirty minutes before checking on Whumpee again ... thankfully Whumpee had finally listened and was snoring away.

"My happy little chainsaw", Caretaker marveled at how loud Whumpee was as they stepped into the room.

They grabbed the thermometer and tucked it under Whumpee's tongue without disturbing their sleep. Even the ding didn't wake Whumpee.

"Temp is a little better now", Caretaker looked the thermometer over, "not where I'm wanting it to be though."

Caretaker sighed, "shit", he whispered, "I might have to take you in for some better medicine. What I have might not be cutting it."

Caretaker was fixing some soup for Whumpee when they heard them moving around.

"Dinner's almost ready if you want to come down here", Caretaker called.

Whumpee struggled down the hall.

"I just woke up and puked", Whumpee frowned.

"Let me guess, you didn't get to the bucket in time", Caretaker sighed, "where did it end up?""

"I did get to the bucket, but some got on my blanket to... sorry", Whumpee looked down.

"Okay", Caretaker sighed, "go ahead and eat, I'll clean it up."

Whumpee was hunched over when Caretaker came back.

"Whumpee?", Caretaker panicked, "Whumpee?"

Whumpee jumped up and started to mumble.

"You're going to the hospital... now", Caretaker hurried.

"No, no. I'm fine", Whumpee mumbled with a slur.

"Don't argue, you're fucking going to the hospital. You're beyond fine", Caretaker went to help Whumpee stand.

"Okay, but I can walk", Whumpee started to get up.

"Oh, you want to walk by yourself. Okay, that sounds fun to watch. Okay, let's see", Caretaker crossed his arms.

Whumpee started to walk, but fell forward.

"Shit", Whumpee moaned.

"That's what I thought. Alright come on, work with me. I'm not dragging your ass, but you won't make it by yourself", Caretaker threw one of Whumpee's arms over his shoulder and led them to the car.

Whumpee's temperature was checked on arrival at the hospital. It had jumped back up again.

Caretaker helped Whumpee into a chair and followed the staff as they rushed them back.

Caretaker sighed as they started to fill out the forms, "Whumpee", Caretaker muttered to himself, "pain in my ass. You're lucky I love you... at least a little bit."

Whumpee squinted their eyes open, the morning sun met them.

They jumped up realizing this was not their bedroom.

"Easy", they felt Caretaker's hand grab them, "you're okay, your fever got really bad. I had to bring you to the hospital."

Whumpee rubbed their head, "I've got a major headache", they looked around the room, "the last thing I remember was sitting down at the table, I don't remember anything else."

"Well, the staff here has been very helpful in getting your fever to break, they got you on some medication and fluids", Caretaker sighed.

"That's good", Whumpee leaned back again, "I still don't feel great, plus, this headache."

"We'll get you better", Caretaker pressed the call button, "I promise."

Whumpee nodded as they laid down, "thankyou Caretaker."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr