#and now he spends the entire rest of the story going 'oh fuck im out of my depth here. uuuh.'

[amygdalae]

Toshiro went from "im turning Marcille in to the elves" to "im just going to report this to the Island Lord" and then he was like "but I'm not going to mention Laios or the party" and then when they actually got there his shy ass just stood quietly behind Kabru looking pretty and letting him do all the talking

[mamawasatesttube]

first, I just wanna say the Kon agonies are making me lose my freaking mind!!!! oh my GOD I’m devouring your writing every single time!!!

second, for my actual ask!! I was wondering how you think timkon’s proposal would be like? If you haven’t already told us, I feel like you have but I’m not sure!

thank you thank you!! i love kon and his issues. he has so many of them. (shameless plug for the kon agonies here again <3)

i love to think abt timkon proposal ideas. many possible ways it could go but i FIRMLY believe the one way it Can't go is "traditionally perfect and cliché and romantic". it has to go sideways at least a little. they're both weirdos with an insane general lifestyle. i have several ideas that i think are all really fun, but the baseline is just that there's no way it goes off without a hitch. therefore, i present:

how DO tim and kon get engaged? (one possibility!)

on a very casual chill date night in, while sharing a pizza while hanging out on the couch in their pajamas and watching star trek, they agree they want to get married. they also both agree it'll still be fun to do a proposal.

yeah each of them is now going "hehehe. i'm gonna surprise him with a nice date and i'll romance him as he deserves and then ask him to marry me and he will be swept off his feet!!!"

so. you know. now it's a race.

one weekend, kon takes tim on a lovely romantic date. by the point kon's got him sitting in his lap way up in the sky, twirling wispy clouds around them both into hearts while he points up at stars way overhead, tim is INCREDIBLY suspicious of what's coming (a proposal) and is SO mad because he was going to propose NEXT WEEKEND.

kon's sappy speech gets interrupted by toyman attacking metropolis and tim is like. oh thank god. i mean uhh... wow... FUCK toyman! i'm SO mad about this! meanwhile kon pouts the entire time he's decimating a small army of toy soldiers with real guns. tim finds this adorable.

kon almost still pops the question anyway, but his vanity stops him. his hair got a little singed by a giant firebomb and he's upset about it. he can't propose like this.

next weekend, tim takes kon on a lovely romantic date. when he goes down on one knee in front of a park fountain under a canopy of string lights (very romantic, kon deserves it), kon starts HOLLERING and pulls his ring box out like NO!!! I DID SO GOOD LAST WEEK IM PROPOSING TO YOU!!!!!

tim: NOT IF I GET THERE FIRST. CONNER KENT YOURE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE—

kon: YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!! TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE YOURE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND IM GONNA PUNT YOU INTO THIS FOUNTAIN IF YOU DONT LET ME PROPOSE TO YOU FIRST—

tim, yelling over him: —AND I'D BE HONORED TO SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH YOU—

kon tackles him.

they both fall into the fountain.

they both have to hunt for their ring boxes in the fountain.

passerby are staring.

they are in their nice fancy date clothes. on their hands and knees. crawling around in a big ol park fountain. it's cold. they're a mess. please send help

kon finds his ring box first (tim swears up and down that he cheated by ttking tim's box away every time he almost grabbed it) and tackles tim a second time, sits on him in the fountain, and grabs his face.

tim licks him. kon is, shockingly, undeterred.

"TIM," he says, and squishes tim's cheeks. "you're a STUBBORN ASSHOLE. WILL YOU MARRY ME?"

"I'M a stubborn asshole?!" tim demands. it's muffled because his cheeks are still very squished. "god, obviously yes, but you're the jackass, i planned tonight out so well and you hijacked it—"

kon kisses him. tim kisses him back.

tim's ring box mysteriously happens to brush his fingers then. very convenient, thank you, kon.

they exchange rings still sitting there in the cold water under all the lights. tim's teeth are starting to chatter.

passerby are still staring.

they don't care. they're engaged!

and that's the story of how tim drake gets mild hypothermia and kon fusses and frets over him for the rest of the weekend—uhhh I MEAN, the story of how tim and kon get engaged. yippee!!

[japhan2024]

im not sure what prompts you were after for Anthonys day but what about some hurt/comfort regarding Anthonys anxiety, it could involve the entire crew caring for Anthony as they watch and realise that he may not be protorising his mental health. maybe some kisses from ian idk man

Anthony took only three steps further until he stopped in his tracks. "Is that… Is that Breathless by Asking Alexandria?!"

The Extra Mile

Ever since Anthony was back at Smosh, something had happened to the rest of the cast and crew. They walked just a little friskier, their conversation was just a tad more lighthearted and their laughter just a bit louder. Out of everyone, the change was biggest in Ian, Anthony's co-founder and best friend, then ex-best friend and now best friend again.

Ian had been emerging as the company's new office-clown and mascot for a few months while nobody knew but him and Anthony that the latter would be coming back. The others were shocked and surprised - in a good way - to see Ian so radiant and bright. He didn't use to be this way.

The problem was, nobody (safe one) really knew how to read Anthony yet, not even his best friend. His ever enchanting cackling laughter, his eyes, half moon-shaped and his general coolness… he had these outlandish tattoos that seemed to streak all along his body like paintbrushes, his many rings and piercings, and his ripped jeans, they all gave him the allure of a mysterious rock star from a lost era.

And Anthony really put in an effort to get to know everyone, and them him. He put on a friendly face each day at the Smosh office and laughed at everyone's jokes, which was easy because everyone there was a comedian in their own right.

But he was struggling inside. The reason he wanted to come back wasn't all these people. It was just one. He and Ian had both just been standing there, wide-eyed, smiling at each other, after that day of writing together for the first time in years. It had gone SO well, they couldn't believe they were still such a perfect fit. Their comedy - just the two of them - was wat Anthony realized he craved more than anything in the world.

So, Anthony's efforts to vibe with the other cast were always half-hearted, however hard he tried to care, he just didn't. He just waited out the filming day to spend time again with Ian and come up with sketch ideas together.

There was one person at Smosh who started to notice this about Anthony. Their "got my psychology minor online" comedian, Shayne. It didn't matter to him that people joked about his diploma. He read pretty much everyone like a book. At first, he'd been so glad that Anthony bas back himself, that he hadn't noticed. But whenever he saw Anthony checking his phone more than he had to, he noticed Anthony trying - truly trying, but failing - to be interested in the stories Angela was telling him, Shayne's blonde brows furrowed and he had decided to bring this up privately to Ian.

"He's not happy." Those words crashed into Ian like a bus on a highway.

"This is terrible, I'm such a fool for throwing him into the deep so immediately," he lamented to Shayne.

"Hey, you decided on those things together." It was no use. Ian leaned heavily on his desk.

"I fucked up. Shayne, we need to fix this, fast!"

Ian got all cast and crew together and announced a secret project.

"This is so important, you guys," Ian said so earnestly that nobody dared to laugh. He handed everyone a list. It had all Anthony's likes, dislikes, beliefs, in-jokes and proudest Smosh-moments on it.

"Everyone must memorize these by tomorrow, that's an order!" Ian said. Everyone silently nodded in agreement.

The next day Anthony walked into the Smosh office a little apprehensively. He sighed.

"Come on, get hyped," he told himself. "Try to enjoy this. Ian got Smosh to survive because of this. Let's go!"

Not even one foot inside the building, Shayne says:

"Hi Anthony, wonderful to see you! Here you go, your favorite! Chai latte with a little extra spice!"

"Oh, thank you?" Anthony smiles as a crewmember approaches him.

"Anthony! Here's some vegan, gluten free bagels with vegan salmon and vegan cream cheese!"

"How did you know I love those?"

The crewmember just smiles.

Anthony takes only three steps further until he stops in his tracks. "Is that… Is that Breathless by Asking Alexandria?!"

"It sure is," Angela chimes in while doing a little dance and giggle.

Anthony only just gets to the door of the next room at the office and wants to grab the doorknob, Amanda says "I WOULDN'T DO THAT IF I WERE YOU!"

Anthony jumps and asks "why?"

Amanda lowers her head and raises one eyebrow while whispering: "you'll have to put ice on your precious hand if you touch it…"

Chanse and Tommy walk up to Anthony. Tommy is somehow covered in feathers, making a grandiose sigh. Chanse asks him: "Why the hell are you dressed like a chicken?!"

"And by the way," Arasha appears out of nowhere, holding a bag that says "popcorn" on it, "this popcorn is for… ME! Hahahaha, you don't like popcorn! We have sliced cucumber and guac for you inside.

Amanda opens the door with an oven mitten and Anthony looks into the room. Everyone is there: all of the cast and crew, sitting on bean bags and couches and blankets. Ian stands up in a onesie with his face all over it, and says: "Anthony! Are you ready to watch a movie with us? There's more drinks and food when you're done with those, but remember to go easy on the pepsi!"

Anthony smiles widely. All these people took the time to really get to know him. They are not just 'other people', they are an extension of Ian, an extension of Smosh. Anthony just knows Ian put them all up to this. And he hugs Chanse who stands closest to him and says "Thank you, you guys…" His eyes tear up a little.

[wyldblunt]

im obsessed with glyn & canach and i must know more about them

for the ship questions, if you don’t mind answering:

pre-relationship: 1, 2, & 4

general: 1, 3, & 8

omg thank u im so glad u like them... (original ship asks here!)

pre-relationship 1: How did they first meet?

[RUBBING MY HANDS TOGETHER] YAY I LOVE THEIR MEETCUTE

okay so in our canon glyndwr is not involved in any of the southsun stuff at all — that goes to my wife's commander, alan. glyn was getting poked about "consortium issues, karka acting funny, blah blah" and was essentially like "this is so below my pay grade that i will fucking cut your head off if you ever insult me with a brief like this ever again" and that was that. SO he's more or less oblivious to it outside of alan's letters ("ugh this GUY, we finally got him, so hopped up on painkillers he couldn't even see, there's karka goop everywhere," etc) and the occasional wanted poster here and there

(side note this is the setup for alan and canach's insane hostility during heart of thorns. you throw me in jail? okay, Hero of Tyria, i'm out now and i am going to steal your fucking boyfriend about it)

ANYWAY. post-southsun. as a whispers lightbringer glyndwr had managed to stay mostly anonymous for most of his career, but zhaitan's defeat has blown that into fucking smithereens. suddenly he's just as famous as alan and trahearne and it is making him want to turn himself inside out. running errands is now impossible. one day he's essentially fleeing the paparazzi in lion's arch and while trying to lose them finds himself hiding out where canach is imprisoned.

they get to talking through the bars, glyn smokes him out (something he can get away with as a pact commander even with multiple lionguards looking Directly At Them), and before he knows it glyn is coming back regularly, telling canach about what he's seen on his travels lately and sometimes even bringing him books. it gets to the point where sometimes glyndwr spends all day by canach's cell. the rest is history!!

2: What was their first impression of each other?

canach about glyn: "oh, thank fuck, someone to TALK to. and he's eye candy which is a bonus"

glyn about canach: "[with narrowed eyes] this horrid little man is being rude and flippant to me. no one is rude and flippant to me anymore. what is going on" <- intensely intrigued (and then, a bit later when his memory is jogged: "oh, wait, this horrid little man is the one who tried to explode my lover with land mines on a resort island." <-even more intrigued)

4: Who felt romantic feelings first?

i think they both fell for each other pretty steadily, but canach is definitely the one who recognizes his feelings as such first. glyndwr is too self-obsessed and emotionally withered to Get It until way later.

general 1: Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

depends on what's meant by "the relationship," but i have an answer locked and loaded specifically for them being officially entwined so i'm going with that!!

i already have a headcanon that sylvari present weapons as significant romantic gifts, on par with proposing with an engagement ring; this was, coincidentally enough, kicked off by the shield of the moon story!

so, at the end of HoT, when canach offers his shield to glyndwr — already a pretty massive gesture as it is — glyndwr misinterprets it, and they have a frantic little "i'm sorry, do you really want to do this NOW?? RIGHT NOW???" conversation shoehorned into the middle of the terrifying battle for their lives and also the lives of their entire race.

later, when they talk about it more seriously, they end up deciding that yeah, maybe canach actually did mean it that way. so what. what are you going to do about it, idiot. let's just get married. fine. FINE

3: What was their first kiss like?

it depends on if you consider shotgunning to be kissing. if so,

but if not, it was probably something messy and near-accidental in the silverwastes. sandy. not pleasant. not discussed for many many months.

8: Who gets jealous easier?

canach for sure but mostly just bc glyn presents more opportunities for it. i don't imagine they're strictly monogamous (rytlock is certainly popping in and out around here) but like. glyndwr is at constant risk of slipping on a banana peel and accidentally having sex with anyone who is relatively firm/respectful (/charmingly disrespectful?) with him. glyn goes out to buy a carton of milk and through a comedy of errors gets his back blown out four times on the way there and back. glyn somehow managed to fuck ruka the wanderer. it's an affliction

[first-edition]

Breaking Seasons

Spencer Reid x reader fan fiction 

UPDATE EVERY TUESDAY AND THURSDAY.

Read previous chapter here

CHAPTER 4

Cw- violence, mature language and speak, gore, eventual smut, fluff, angst, abuse, childhood trauma, sexual themes, vewier discretion is advised.

Summary- When y/n takes her sick friends criminology class to take notes in the winter, she meets the guest speaker, BAU-FBI agent Spencer reid. After getting to know more about each other due to a college school related case, that ends up involving y/n herself, they naught just have each to keep warm.

STORY BEGINS UNDER CUT

TRIGGER WARNING THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SENSITIVE THEMES SUCH AS LOOSING A LOVED ONE.

                                  ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The entire rest of the day you and spencer sit on the couch and talk about lore. Lore of doctor who, Star Trek, Star Wars, even horror movies not knowing he would be such a fan a scary things. You tell him about your life and he tells you about his he even opens up the extremely personal details about his mother having Schizophrenia and his father leaving. He tells you about cases and being a profiler and how even now he's surprised he time to spend with you. You tell him how you wanted to get into astrology.

He mentions his love for card games so you introduce him, more like challenge him, to poker.

"3 card please." You say he nods and hands you three cards. 

"Three for the lady. And i will take one." He says you chuckle shaking your head 

"Only one. Straight or a flush dr. What are you trying to fill in?" You ask 

"Well considering the odds of filling an open ended straight with one card or five to one against, well.. a one card flush draw is more like four pint five to one....i guess hmm you'd say if i was smart, id draw into a flush." He rambles a bit leaving you. Raising your eyebrow in annoyance.

"No you know i think im gonna go all in on this." He says and puts the pretzels in the middle. You chuckle and put the peanuts in. He smiles and nods.

"So. Are you?" You ask. 

"Am I drawing to a flush or am i smart?' He asks smiling. 

You shrug. "Either."

"Well you know im provably a genius. But uh actually i was drawing into a full house, eights over sixes" he says placing down his cards. 

"Ah that's right your from Vegas." 

"Yep!" He says reaching for the pile. 

"Ah ah ah not so fast I two have a huge graft. Royal flush." You say placing down the full set of cards. 

"No fucking way." He huffs sitting back you giggle and nod. 

"You drew three cards to a royal flush that's 100 to one against." He says. 

"97 to one now. Thank you!" You say moving the pile towards you. 

He sits back and watches your smile on you face as you arrange them in neatly. 

"Oh i just remember what i was gonna ask you!" You reply looking up at him he nods to you. 

"That day at the coffee shop your were gonna ask me something but you were doing that stuttering thing... what was it?" You ask

He opens his mouth to finally tells you both how he feels and ask you out but gets interrupted by his phone ringing. 

"S-sorry." He replies. And answers his phone. 

"This is Dr. Spencer Reid?. Hey yeah. Okay on it." He says and hangs up "theres been another murder I gotta go, duty calls." He says and get up you get up as well walking him to the door.

"Do you mind if I leave this here?" He asks looking towards his jacket you shake your head no confused. 

"Good... that way i know you come back to you." He says your eyes widen a bit as he gives a small smile. 

"Good night y/n" he says smiling to you opening the door. 

"N-night" you say as he walks off you close the door after him. Smiling to your self and regretting the way you feel about him. You walk back to the couches and clean your your poker games and wine glasses. 

Spencer walks into the dorm of the victim.

"Where've you been?" Morgan asks him looking him up and down noticing he dosnt have his jacket from before. 

jj smiles "he was with y/n" she sings. Spencer chuckles looking down. 

"You were with a girl reid?" Hitch asks spencer nods 

"Her name is y/n." Spencer replies. 

Hitch nods and smiles 

"Finally here I've come to think you'd be alone." He says bending down to the victim. 

"I got 10 buck on 6 months." Morgan says. It's quiet as everyone turns to him. 

"20 on a year." Hotch says. Fist pumping Morgan. 

"100 they get married." Jj says 

"W-wait are you guys just betting on my life." Spencer gawks 

"Yeah." They all say finishing up the survey. Spencer scoffs and puts on gloves as someone hands him a stack of books. He walks over to the bed and sits noticing the covers and eventually finally looks around the room.

"Morgan...what room is this?" He asks. 

"33 B" he aswers

"And the victim..?" He asks 

"Mave Donovan" Spencer's heart sinks as he looks around the room seeing a familiar bullet hole from a few days ago. Your friend who you've known your entire life now laying lifeless in a black body bag being hauled out on a stretcher. And they have to be the one to tell you...no He has to be the one.

"Spence? You finished with he papers?" Jj says 

"Uh y-yeah almost.." he says and continues reading but can't fully focus as you are running through his mind thinking of your reaction to the new information about your friends death, no longer having to take notes for her, and having to pack up her stuff.

Finished reading he stands up and walks out with the rest of his team ready to deliver the profile.

———

Sleeping peacefully in your bed some how dreaming of your talks with spencer its cut off and you awaken to the sound of your phone ringing. You groan and reach over picking it up, being blinded by your screen on full brightness but answers seeing spencer calling you. 

"Spencer...its 2 am.." you huff. Your tired voice sounding out into his ears. 

"I- i know I'm sorry...I'm out side your door right now and was wondering if you could open the door?" He asks 

"What? Yeah sure ugh hold on." You say and get up and walk out of your room tiredly.

Meeting the door you unlock it and open it seeing Spencer his hands clasped together in anxiousness. 

"You okay?" You asks moving to the side to let him in.

"Yeah...um y/n..its about the case." He says softly dropping his hands. 

"Did you solve it or something. Spencer I really wanna go back to sleep-" 

"Mave is dead." He blurts out leaving you standing there now fully awake. 

You chuckle. "Th-that's not funny you can't just come over at 2 am and prank me like that you..." tears begin to fall down your cheeks as you see his straight face. 

"...You're telling the truth..y-you..." you stutter putting a hand over your heart it all of a sudden hurting. Your best friend. The person who means the most to you. Who's been there for you through everything. She's gone shes really gone. You stumble over your feet sobbing. 

"We've profiled the unsub is going after women at the college who fit the description of what mave looks like." He says stepping close to you you hold out your hand. 

"N-no ..no" you fall to your knees sobbing but despite your effort to keep him away he wraps you in his arms pulling you close to him. Braking down against him. He doesn't say or do anything. Just holds you as you cry.

READ CHAPTER 5 HERE

[lovestsaint]

ok i promised this

(plus how i'd rewrite it)

rating from 1 (worst representation ever borderline homophobic) to 10 (actually still pretty good). buckle up this is gonna suck for me specifically. 

tw for death, religious talk of sorts, misrepresentation of mental health, and overall bad portrayals of gay people. i was Not a Good Writer in middle school.

dismay and joy

oh Fuck

BACKSTORY:

these two were from “nightmare circus”, an idea for a rpg maker game i wanted to do (SUPER BORING NAME but i was 12 it’s excusable)

set in 1800s inside of a circus, and the secrets the ringleader is hiding from the performers. very inspired by franbow and night woods circus (vocaloid)

important characters here : the jesters. 12 matching circus jesters who have a corresponding emotion they act as. (ex. anger jester, sadness jester, etc.)

backstory of them is that they’re all runaways/orphans who found their way to this circus, have been working there since.

BACK TO JOY AND DISMAY. dismay arrived at a young age around the same time joy did. they quickly became close friends. not all of the jesters are close or even friends, but! these two had a genuine connection.

i will say tho.. on a different note.. while dismay had many questions and concerns about their situation and the circus, joy unknowingly tended to shut down those arguments by trying to keep dismay happy.

THE QUEER ASPECT:

im gonna be honest. there was no real relationship 💔

dismay developed feelings for joy in her 20s, but it’s supposed to be unclear if joy shared the same feelings or even knew. i never really had a solidified idea for this part of the story, but here’s what i considered a) joy wasn’t aware, and didn’t have romantic feelings for her b) joy knew but didn’t reciprocate. she also didn’t want to reject dismay and hurt their friendship so she wouldn’t mention it.

since it was the 1800s, option 1 is probably the most realistic and the one i'd go with.

BACK TO STORY:

then before the actual story would’ve even started joy would’ve died. uhhh

the original plot was that joy went cRaZY 🤪 and died for. Some reason. for obvious reasons i don’t like this plot point anymore!

HOW I'D WRITE IT NOW:

NOW. i would make it so that joy got injured on the job. probably one that’s more so internal than visible. joy doesn’t take time to heal and continues to overexert herself. eventually this catches up to her physical health, and when she has to rest, her internal injuries get worse. the show must go on however and because of that the ringleader continues to work her, even more so than before. maybe she’s delirious one day and another accident happens. everything piles up and she’s fatally injured. the ringleader notices she may not recover and therefore, is disregarded. replaced by someone else almost immediately

this isn’t the best concept but hey, it’s better than the original.

rating this a 6.5 because it’s onesided, unrequited, and.. bury your gays trope… you know…

san flor josé

BACKSTORY:

san flor josé resides in purgatory. in this universe, people either go to heaven and hell but if someone dies before their supposed time, they end up in purgatory. depending on where they were supposed to go, they’ll spend time trying to prove themselves to the respective ruler (satan or god) that they either: deserve to have another chance at life or if they’re in hell, that they belong in heaven instead.

san flor josé was born josé hernández flores in 1891, and lived in mexico his entire life. he grew up working class and his family was made up of farmers. in 1910, the mexican revolutionary war started and, feeling inclined to defend his family and the other working class people around him, he enlisted at age 19. (there’s more to this but! im trying to summarize). josé is 29 by the time the war ends, and tried to live a normal life after - going back to his hometown, helped out the community, and regularly went to church.

THE QUEER ASPECT:

when he came back, he met another man (at some point…) and they fell in love. due to the time period, they couldn’t express it freely and would only meet in private. they were together for 3 years when josé contracted a disease which developed into pneumonia. due to lack of resources, josé died.

josé was devoutly religious his entire life, and his sexual orientation was a main cause of distress for his relationship to his faith. however, he was hoping to end up in heaven. when he woke up in a desolate wasteland with the grim reaper standing above him, he knew something was wrong. he was then told he died at the wrong time, but there was a way to gain his life back. he agreed, and the grim reaper told him that he was going to end up in hell, so that was where he would be working. josé was understandably devastated: he was sure he did everything right. why did he end up here?

while josé was a man dedicated to his family and faith, his homosexuality was too great of a sin for god to ignore.

he renamed himself san flor josé, and still resides in purgatory, feeling no inclination to come back to earth. that thought died when his lover passed away a decade after his death. he has an established position in hell and is up in ranks, working closely with the grim reaper.

HOW I’D WRITE IT NOW:

san flor josé was sorta my commentary on someone trying to do everything right in their life, but oppressive religion demeaning their existence solely for the “lifestyle” they live. as you can tell i had a complicated relationship with religion in middle school LOL

honestly i don’t mind this backstory!! maybe im still not aware of its issues but i think it works for the story im trying to tell with him.

the one thing i would AND DID change was his relationship with another person in purgatory, tricky. tricky came to purgatory around 2016 and works under him. they had a .. weird relationship??? tricky would have a crush on him and flirt often. he wasn’t interested but .. he never corrected her??? it was very black hat and demencia from villainous coded. but also tricky died at 16 originally .. and he was 32. ummm ermm!!!

this is super weird to me now and yeah i changed it not too long ago! she still works under him but she’s more like a daughter to him than anything. tricky is 18 now too, but that’s just because I thought her story would work better if she was older. they have a lot more familial relationship in the story now.

i think i'd rate this a 7.5, i still like the story for the most part and i think his character conveys what idea i was going for

ian and max

BACKSTORY:

in the future, space travel is Somewhat commercialized. not in the “regular ass people going to mars” type way - more like government approved groups go to space to try and create alliances or are sent to collect resources. in my main groups case, they go to establish alliances and they work to help other planets, either with inner conflicts or how commercialized space exploration affected them.

the main crew consists of: amelie (the muscle and de facto leader), alice (navigator), ian (ACTUAL leader and dictates which planets they travel to), andromeda (tech & maintains care of airship), max (inventor & translator), and sirus (a robot max & andromeda invent later on) !

they all didn’t initially intend to work together (with the exception of alice and ian, childhood friend win), but since they couldn’t find anyone else they stick by each other.

IAN AND MAX’S RELATIONSHIP:

a few days in and they already don’t like each other. max is very excitable and - in ian’s eyes - irresponsible, while ian is reserved and - in max’s eyes - has a huge stick up his ass. though, ian disliked max more than max disliked ian - ian thinking max’s presence was not just a nuisance but an actual threat to the success of their group.

they continue! to not get along throughout the first 6 months of their voyage. but they’re functional, they can at least co-exist together. that is until something goes wrong on a planet, and max is the one that fucks up.

he's immediately apologetic, it’s an actual mistake he didn’t even try to overlook. despite everyone else understanding, ian snaps; he begins berating max, telling him he’s unreliable and shouldn’t even be in their crew. ian probably regretted these words the next day, but at that moment he was only focused on airing out every issue he had with max - the crew member that completely ruined their mission due to negligence. max is understandably upset; in no way did he mean to make this mistake, people slip up, it happens. ian isn’t listening at this point - while the rest of the crew chastises ian, max insults him back - noting how since the beginning ian has always had something against him.

this marks a shift in their relationship, as now they’re both on mutual terms of heavy dislike. they might work in the same ship, but that doesn’t mean they have to interact. so they don’t: they ignore each other and only interact if necessary (much to the rest of the crew’s concern and uncomfortableness).

this continues on until one day, both of them get captured by an alien planet. they are put in prison and placed right next to each other. for the first few days they don’t talk, thinking their crew is just about to save them. the week passes and they’re still in the prison cells. they come to the awful realization: they’re gonna have to work together to get out of here.

THE QUEER ASPECT:

max is an openly gay man, while previous to this, ian’s sexuality wasn’t talked about. this was gonna be the first time his sexuality was discussed.

this is where the story was gonna go: they start talking again in the cells, initially just to devise a way out. then, they start talking about their issues, and ian is .. supposed to confess he actually liked max the entire time.

max.. accepts the confession and they start dating after they come back to the ship. hm.

HOW I’D WRITE IT NOW:

umm I don’t like this idea anymore.. obviously.. soo i changed it!

how the story goes now: they refuse to talk the first few days, trying to come up with their own plan of escape. after the first week, they begrudgingly decide to truce (for the time being) and work on a way out. a month passes and they figure out a good plan, putting into action that same day. they’re on the run after this and need to find a place to rest. they travel for the next month, switching from place to place trying not to get caught. all the while, they try to regain communication with their team.

the whole month before they were only discussing solutions and plans, but during the second month they actively start to discuss the issues they have with each other. ian ultimately apologizes for his actions and, now seeing that max is more than capable of being a dependable work partner, starts to respect him. max is still hurt by the words said back on ship, but sees that ian wants to work on himself and that the apology is genuine. they’re not friends just yet, but they can work together and have a newfound understanding of the other.

when their crew can finally rescue them safely, everyone is relieved to find that they actually sorta get along now. thank god.

THE QUEER ASPECT (REWRITTEN):

throughout the story they become friends, genuine arguing turns into light hearted banter. max messes with ian significantly more, just for funsies.

they remain that way for a whileee when. guys. is it just me. max definitely has his arm around ian right. huh.

it’s more so a background development but they become kinda . Touchy. later on. no one really notices it but it’s a change for sure. well no one really notices it at first but when you see your kinda-boss lean in a little too close to the self proclaimed little freak of your friend group, things get a little confusing

the literal definition of an offscreen slow burn. its like klance but worse because its my original characters. they definitely talked about it on their own time but are they telling the rest of the crew anything? No. one day they’re chilling on opposite sides of the couch, the next day max calls ian “babe” in front of everyone. everyone on that spacecraft is getting emotional whiplash.

the old story i'd rate a 4 out of 10. new one probably a 6.5/7, it still needs reworking but SOO much better than the first one (atleast in my eyes)

overall i'd rate 10-13 year old me's writing a 5/10 he did try ill give him that but. sad trombone music. happy pride month btw :)

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Life size mannequin.

Erik’s girl uses him as a mannequin but Erik takes it too far and it back fires.

If you were to ask Y/N how she gets everything done she wouldn’t be able to give you a straight forward answer. Juggling school, a full time job, and a side hussle isn’t for the delicate and inadequate. Staying up until 2 AM with flash cards sprawled out on the living room table and a ratty mannequin head between her legs every night, Y/N fights much needed rest to recharge for the next days events. That’s not the only thing her teeming life has to offer. Y/N’s new boyfriend, Erik would be seen as a distraction to some but she can hold her own without slacking on her studies, missing a days work, or forgetting to do a clients hair. He’s handsome, fun, intriguing, smart, and that dick...it needs its own SSN and certificate. It’s own area code even. If she had to admit it, whenever her mind drifted to their bodies tangled in her sheets, moaning and groaning, she lost focus just a little bit.

Y/N is off on a Friday for once and instead of catching up on rest, Y/N decided to use her entire day making a closure wig for a friend and client. It’s a 24 inch body wave natural black lace frontal. No shedding, very soft, bouncy, with overall great quality. If only her lousy mannequin head would keep still!!! Y/N gave up after the mannequin head slipped from her grip. She usually has a wig stand with a mannequin head attached to the end but all of them are covered with other wigs that didn’t need to be ruined. The old fashioned way brought her back to how frustrating it was to practice. And to make things worse, Erik is strolling back and forth in front of her naked after his shower and completely ignoring her closet stocked with plenty of towels. When he stopped in front of her, his strapping thighs and that lethal weapon dangling she felt her face grow warm and her belly grow butterflies.

“You’re not helping, jerk,” Y/N said as she continued sewing. She was almost finished.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days and the one time I have a chance to spend time with you, this is what you do.”

“This wig is past due, Erik. I was supposed to get this to her two days ago. Thank God she had some shit going on herself otherwise I would be losing a client.”

Erik gave up trying to seduce Y/N and grabbed a pair of briefs from his travel bag.

“Whatever, you owe me some after this,” Erik sat down on the bed, leaning on one elbow, “You really into this.”

“And?” Y/N sassed.

“I’m just saying. Why not be a full time hair stylist?”

“Because I don’t want to do this for a living. Why else would I be in school for something that has nothing to do with hair? It’s just money to make on the side.”

The mannequin slipped again and Erik burst out laughing.

“I wanna see you try it since you find my struggle funny.”

“Oh, you don’t want me to do it I’ll fuck that whole wig up.”

Y/N ignored his smart remark.

“I’ll come over there and mess that shit right up and make you start over.”

“Erik, I’m not in the mood right now leave me alone,” Y/N cut her eyes at him, “Try me if you want I will take the end of this needle and dig it in one of them keloids. Make it pop like bubble wrap, think I’m playing.”

“You forget you’re talking to someone with a pain kink. Why you think my pain receptors fucked up?”

“So, you mean to tell me, if I boil some hot water right now and pour it on your leg...you wouldn’t feel pain?”

Erik frowned his face into a mug at Y/N as he cocked his head back. The widening of his eyes is what made her giggle.

“You don’t know how to love me all you wanna do is hurt a nigga. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m only messing with you—”

“No you’re not. If I say some shit you don’t like I get slapped upside my head. If I want to be in a playing mood you threaten me with that little fist of yours. Just admit it, you enjoy tormenting me.”

“You’re so Goddamn dramatic,” Y/N tilted her mannequin head forward, “Can you do me a huge favor?”

“If it involves getting up off this bed the answer is fuck no,” Erik said while lying on his back now with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed.

“I already know you’re about to say no but...I want you to let me use you as my mannequin.”

“Huh?”

The way his voice rose an octave has Y/N laughing.

“Can you let me put this wig on you so I can finish this?”

Erik’s brows shot up as his eyes landed on her, “Why? So you can sneak and take a picture? I’m not falling for that.”

“Erik c’mon now. I just need your head for a second and that’s it.”

“I can think of other ways you can use my head but instead you wanna put some weave on me.”

Erik sat up and swung his legs around to face Y/N. Erik leans forward on his knees, staring at the wig with a steady blink.

“What size is that shit anyway? You know I have locs so...how the hell is that supposed to fit on my head?”

“I’ll just...fit it over that pineapple on top of your head.”

“Jokes,” Erik reached up and took out the elastic band that held his tapered locs. Shaking his head, his locs fell over his eyes, “I’m not putting that on my head.”

“Not even for me?” Y/N pouts, “Not your favorite girl?”

“I know you, Y/N. You’re gonna put that shit on my head, take a picture, and post it. I’m not falling for the shit. I told you that.”

“Whatever. You got a big ass dome anyway and this wig is average size.”

“Now you’re tryna clown me?” Erik said with a half smirk on his full lips flashing a bit of his gold canines.

“It’s like...mad wide from front to back...no wonder you keep your hair long—”

“I know you ain’t talking shit with that ginormous ass forehead, girl.”

“I thought you said all the fine girls got big foreheads?” Y/N bat her lashes at Erik.

“That’s what’s helping you out. First time I saw you I was thinking damn, this bitch got a big ass forehead. And don’t think I forgot about how you played me when you sent that cropped picture.”

“Boy, fuck you!!” Y/N shouted over Erik’s laughter.

“I was—I was looking at the picture like where the rest of her face go?!”

Y/N glared at Erik as he dissolved into laughter.

“It’s really not that funny. Now are you gonna help me or not?!”

“Aight, I’ll do it this one time.” Erik sat up with one hand resting against his abdomen while the other wiped away tears, “Where do you want me?”

“On the floor between my legs, DUH where the fuck else would you be?”

He began dying laughing again from Y/N’s obvious annoyance. Erik took his place on the floor while Y/N climbed behind him onto the bed with each leg dangling on either side of him. Y/N takes the wig from the mannequin and before she placed it on Erik she tilted his head back more for easier access. Grabbing the half-done wig, Y/N fluffed out the ends before arranging it over Erik’s locs. Even at their short length it was a challenge to fit the wig the way she needed it.

“Can you PLEASE keep still?” Y/N prompted.

“I’m not even moving. This wig just don’t fit.”

Y/N applied force and wiggled it over his locs causing Erik’s head to rock back and forth aggressively. He growled before reaching behind him to grab her hands. The wig looked much shorter on him in the back from how prominent his back and shoulders are. Erik turned to face her with his lips tight and face frowned, the wig making him look ridiculous and silly. Y/N folded her lips into her mouth but the urge to laugh caused her cheeks to puff out.

“If only you knew how tight my fucking head feels right now. I can’t even smile without this shit feeling like my scalp is being pulled. This better come off when we’re done or that’s your ass.”

“Erik, turn around. I only have one section to do and then you’re free. Next time, don’t ask me to help you with shit if you’re gonna act like this.”

Erik sucked his teeth and faced forward so Y/N could continue. He lowered his head so she could work on the back area.

“Can I ask you something, babe?” Y/N said.

“What?” Erik replied.

“Do you mind modeling this for me—”

“See, I knew this shit—”

Erik stood up before Y/N could wrap her arms around him. He walked over to the full body mirror in her room to look at himself and that’s when he couldn’t hold back his own laughter.

“Yo, what the fuck do you have on my head!” Erik played with the strands while turning his head from side to side, “I look like James Brown, AYE!!!!”

Y/N was in stitches when he mimicked James Brown in the mirror. She fell back against her bed hollering from the way he looked.

“Nah, I’m not drunk right now I need to be drunk to enjoy this,” Erik leaned into the mirror, “I look better than half the bitches that come in here to get their hair done. Let me find out.”

“You are so STUPID!!!!” Y/N yelled between giggles.

“I’ll be back,” Erik left the room with the wig swaying from side to side since it wasn’t fully secure.

“Where are you going?!” Y/N shouted from the bed.

Erik didn’t respond to her loud voice. When he returned two minutes later he had a cup in one hand and his bottle of Hennessy in the other. Erik sat both the cup and the bottle on Y/N’s cluttered dresser to make himself a drink.

“This was supposed to be a quick thing now you’re drinking.”

Y/N watched Erik from her relaxed spot on the bed. Erik took two sips of his drink before standing in front of her mirror again.

“What are you doing?!”

Y/N couldn’t even finish her words when Erik started shimmying his shoulders and snapping his fingers to a soundless beat. Hooting with laughter Y/N could feel wetness on her cheeks.

“IM DONE!!!”

“This shit give bad bitches super powers.” Erik said

“Let me find out you wanna wear a weave now.” Y/N jokes.

Erik brought his cup to his lips and drank more Hennessy while moving his hips. This was too good not to get a video. With Erik being his usual silly self, Y/N snatched up her phone from the floor before pulling up her Instagram to record him. On her story, Y/N focused the camera on her boyfriend when he started singing the lyrics to Lady Marmalade.

“Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, da da. Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, here!!”

“Oh my God!!” Y/N cried out with a chuckle before ending the video. She uploaded it to her story before quickly tossing her phone towards the end of the bed.

“Creole Lady Marmalade!!!!!!!!”

“You hardly had anything to drink and you’re acting like this? Lord.”

“Aight, I’m done for now,” Erik made his way back over to Y/N with his cup, “put on a movie or something.”

“Ohhhhhh!!! So you’re asking me to pick this time?! I get to make a decision, Erik?! Wowwwwwwwww!!!”

“Girl, shut up.”

Y/N chose a random movie for background noise while she finished. She was surprised at how content he was and it made her consider asking him to help more in the future. It was fun and it made her laugh. That’s one thing about Erik that she adores. He matches her sense of humor. Y/N heard a vibration and when she glanced over to look at her phone the screen is still black. Between her legs she could see Erik staring at a text message from his Lock Screen

“What the fuck is this nigga talking ‘bout.”

“Erik keep still—”

“Nigga who is Miss Man?!”

Y/N paused to peer over Erik’s shoulder.

“This nigga just called me Miss Man from Scary Movie.”

Erik tapped on the microphone on his keyboard to speak.

“Who the fuck randomly texts somebody that at 11 PM? Fucking weirdo ass nigga. Let me find out you want Miss Man for yourself.”

“Who is Miss Man— OH! The PE teacher that was sniffing the underwear?!!! hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!”

“This nigga...he said all you need is the underwear, skirt, nails, and makeup—wait.”

“And some long ass balls!!” Y/N snickered.

Erik whipped his head around and when Y/N met his fiery eyes she swallowed her laugh and it left an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

“Did you post me online wearing this wig, Y/N?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna ask you again. Did you post me online in this wig?

“Mm—mm. I did no such thing.”

“Then let me see your phone.”

Erik reached out for Y/N’s phone but she snatched it away. Erik moved his head to the side to flip some of the wig hair form his face but it fell forward again disobeying him.

“Did I? Uhhhh—OKAY OKAY!!”

It happened so fast. Erik has Y/N by the waist and up in the air.

“Yes, I did!! I’ll delete it.”

“You don’t listen to shit I tell you to do—”

“It was cute! You looked cute with it on—”

“You know what’s about to happen right?! I told you not to do that shit!”

“Erik, it’s all in fun. I’ll get rid of it—”

“That shit is embarrassing! What if I posted you online at your worse?”

“I don’t have a bad moment I always look good.” Y/N sasses.

“Says the girl that always complains about me taking off guard pics.”

“Erik, you’re not even at your worse. You act like I posted you looking bummy!”

Y/N kept her word and went to Instagram to delete. When she got there, she was met with at least ten DMs replying to her story.

Corythemua_: gurllll who is that? 👀 ooooh he is fione!!! Is he into guys?

Jermaine_87: Wtf is he doing?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 let me text this nigga

Katriceee: how did you convince him to do this?! LOL

Amethyst1993: when he find out about this you are in trouble girl!!!

“did you delete the video yet?! Don’t let me find out it’s still there!”

“It’s gone! Happy?! What happened to being in a playing mood?!!”

“Now all my friends texting me and clowning me! You play too many games. Hurry up and help me take this shit off!”

Erik brushed some strands from his lips with his fingertips and Y/N squealed. Nothing he could say or do would make her listen. He looked absolutely hilarious with the wavy tresses of the wig moving in tandem with his brawny physique.

“Erik, I can’t take you seriously with that wig on.”

“Then take this off!!”

Erik attempts to pull it off but suddenly stops when he realizes he needs help.

“I want this shit off now, Y/N.”

“FINE! Come here.”

Y/N tapped the floor with her foot for Erik to take a seat. When he does, Y/N does the opposite of what he asks and begins to place his hair into two buns. She silently laughed behind him, praying that he wouldn’t hear her falling apart. When she was finished, Erik assumed she was done because he didn’t feel the hair tickling his skin. When he stood up to look in the mirror, Erik groaned loudly at his appearance before flexing his jaw at her threateningly to make her listen. It didn’t work at all for him. She couldn’t stop laughing.

“You look so crazy!!!!!” Y/N hugged her sides and rolled on the bed with laughter, “And that evil look is making it even funnier!!”

“I’m about to beat your ass if you don’t take this shit off!!! It wouldn’t be funny if this shit stuck now would it?!!! I gotta go to work and all that nah take this off—

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Aight, are you finished?!” Erik said impatiently.

“Baby...you don’t understand...oh my God.”

“Y/N, for real, take this dumb ass wig off before I cut it off!”

“Okay okay!! Before I do...you gotta do one last thing for me...pretty please? With caramel sauce and a cherry on top? I’ll do whatever you want if you do this last thing for me.”

“.....”

“PLEASE BABY?!!”

“.....”

“Erik, look, it’ll be funny! I just want you to cat walk for me and then I’m done—”

“Ahhhhh HELL no—”

“Please—”

“For what?! So you can keep laughing?!”

“I’ll suck your dick, lick your balls—”

“Girl, that won’t work on me—”

“You sure about that?”

Y/N poked her tongue out and started doing tricks with it to show off her tongue ring. Erik’s eyes squinted at her but she could tell from his breathing that he wouldn’t be able to fight it much longer. He even said so himself that her head game makes him weak and no woman before her has ever made him weak.

“...from here to the bed and that’s it.”

Y/N smiled victoriously.

Erik placed his hands on his tapered waistline before lowering his head. Y/N could hear him silently laughing to himself before he lifted his head displaying an adorable dimpled smile. He started strutting towards Y/N with stiff hips and two left feet. All this from her flicking her tongue. Y/N stared at him with her mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He had a focused look on his face and the wig with its two buns flopped up and down messily like bunny ears. He struck a pose with his hip jutted out before he started to vogue. At that point, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer. She had to grab onto Erik so she could catch her breath. Soon, Erik’s deep laugh could be heard.

“You get on my nerves,” Erik sat beside Y/N, “now, can you take this off of me?!”

“Turn around,” Y/N took down the buns before carefully sliding the wig off from front to back, “You’re off the hook after that I’m gonna go back to using this mannequin head.”

“Yeah, finish up so I can spank that ass for posting me on social media.”

Y/N did a double take, “I’m still in trouble?!”

“Yeah, you’re not off the hook.”

The remaining time Y/N finished her clients wig, she thought up all possible ways he could punish her this time.

“Can I have a kiss?” Y/N asked with a sweet sounding voice.

“Yes,” Erik poked his thick, moist lips out and Y/N pressed her soft lips against them.

“Mmm...still in trouble, ma,” Erik whispered.

[thefallennightmare]

Hard to Love [21/21]

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Words: 1621

Warnings: this story will have mentions of abuse, mental and physical so please read at your own risk. Some swearing, angst, and a good amount of fluff. Maybe some smut if I'm feeling frisky.

Summary: After moving to a new town all on her own, Reader would do anything for a stable job and income. Even if that means housekeeping for one of Boston's eligible bachelors. What she didn't expect was finding herself falling in love with him and finding him out about the past that she was running from.

A/N: I cannot believe the ending is here. I also cannot thank you enough for all the love that you guys have gave this series. I really do appreciate it and love seeing all the comments! Your words of encouragement are what kept me going for this story. I’m so so sad it’s done. 

Lets finish this story with a happy ending! 

Tags: @kelbabyblue @patzammit @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @jennmurawski13 @divadinag @cosmicbreathe @thevelvetseries @capstopavenger @chris-butt @denisemarieangelina @im-a-stranger-thing @jennamarieee623 @introvertedmouse @lharrietg @thejemersoninferno  @breezykpop @instantbasementtimetravel @rodgersteves @michaelscotfield-blog1 @40srogcrs @wonderingshawn @bellaireland1981 @katelyneannxo @lady-x-red @sare-bare93-blog @annmariek8​ @raabrakha​ @stxvercgersslut​

ONE YEAR LATER

“Where’s my cutie pie?!” I shouted, entering the home. 

Four feet trotted down the long hallway from the kitchen to the living room where I stood, hanging up my jacket and bag. Bending at the knees, I allowed all of the kisses and whines of happiness, scratching the furry ears. 

“How’s Dodger doing today?” I cooed. 

He followed me into the kitchen as I searched the fridge for something to ease my stomach. Munching on a piece of cheese, I checked my phone and saw a new message from Chris. 

I’ll be home in a few hours. I’m sorry baby, I didn’t think these interviews would take so long. 

Don’t be sorry! I’ll wait up for you xx. 

The last year, I had grown incredibly; putting everything that happened to me in the past, locking it away. The scars still remained on my body but I never let it affect me. Chris would always make sure he showed extra love to them, telling me that he loved the way I look. 

The first time Chris had to leave for work was a couple of months after everything and it was hard to get adjusted to sleeping in the bed alone but Dodger was the best replacement, keeping me safe every night. Chris tried to turn down movie roles but I quickly shot that down. I wouldn’t let him lose out on a possible great job because I missed him. 

I ended up seeing the live video he posted when I was missing and the amount of outpouring coming from his friends and fans also helped me heal. There were a good amount of people who at first weren’t happy that Chris was in a loving relationship but eventually, when he kept posting pictures of us on Instagram, they got used to it. 

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I saw a new message appear from Chris. 

Our weekend starts in less that two hours. I can’t wait to be alone with you. 

I smiled fondly at the message. 

The past couple weeks were filled with either him working almost every day or me continuing my schooling. We had his family and friends over a few times last week as well so we were practically begging the Gods above for some alone time. 

Which is why this weekend we had zero plans, just the two of us in our home. 

And Dodger. 

“OH COME ON!” Chris yelled at the T.V. 

A giggle erupted from my throat from my spot on the couch, my feet placed in his lap, as we watched the football game. 

Our weekend together was coming to an end, school for me and another press conference for Chris’ upcoming movie tomorrow, meant that reality was about twelve hours away. We spent the weekend in multiple different rooms of the house, our moans vibrating off the walls. 

I’ve had sex more in this weekend than I had in my entire adult life. 

Now, we were exhausted, so we decided to spend the rest of our Sunday in our lazy clothes on the couch; Chris wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats and I ended up stealing his shirt and a pair of his boxers. 

Even though his eyes were transfixed on the game, he still made an effort to show me attention by rubbing the soles of my feet. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at this man in front of me. He let his beard grow this weekend, too lazy to shave it, which I didn’t complain one bit. The red marks on my thighs from earlier were an indication of that. His hair was short because he decided that he needed to buzz it last night; he was sick of it getting in his face. 

I marveled at the way the muscle in his jaw tightened when I rubbed my feet into his lap, purposely pressing into his soft cock. 

“If you keep that up, I’ll miss the last half of the game,” he threatened in a low voice. 

“But I’m horny!” I whined, lifting my shirt up and over my head. “Please?” 

I pinched my hard nipple between my fingers, hoping that would be enough to get him on top of me. 

It was. 

I yelped when Chris pulled my ankle towards him, his body on top of mine in seconds. His gold chain was dangling in front of my face as I looked up to him, our chest rising with heavy breaths. 

“So naughty,” he muttered against the crook of my neck. 

“Enough small talk and fuck me already, Evans,” I purred into his ear, fingernails digging into his bare back.

I couldn’t help but gnaw nervously on my bottom lip, tasting a bit of blood, while I paced the floor of our bedroom. Chris was out running errands but with the text I sent him, I knew that he would be on his way home asap. 

Can you come home please? I have to talk to you. 

My hands shook with nerves, feeling my cardigan being weighed down with the pressure that was in the pocket. I couldn’t help but worry about what Chris’ reaction would be. We never talked about this and I didn’t know if this would be what broke our relationship. 

“Y/N?” 

Hearing his voice, I made my way down the stairs and into the living room where he sat with Dodger on the couch. 

“Hey, everything alright?” He asked. 

I nodded and sat across from him. “Yeah, I think so.” 

He knew in the way my knee bounced and sucked in my bottom lip that whatever I had to talk to him about made me nervous as hell. Placing a hand on my knee, he gave me a warm smile. 

“Tell me,” he begged gently. 

Words were so foreign to me, not knowing exactly how to say it, so instead I handed him what was in my pocket. 

“I know we haven’t talked about it much but I couldn't not tell you. I mean you deserve to know. If you’re angry I understand. I’m confused too on how this happened,” I rambled. 

Chris didn’t hear a word I had spouted, his eyes trained hard on the stick in his hand with the two solid pink lines. 

“You’re pregnant?” His mouth twitched. 

I nodded and handed him my phone that held an email from the doctors office, confirming the pregnancy. Yesterday morning while Chris was out with his mom, I secretly had an appointment. 

“The doctor says I’m about six weeks,” I spoke softly. 

I was unsure of what his reaction would be, his gaze still stuck on the pregnancy test in his hand. 

Dodger knew something was different, sniffing the test in Chris’ hand. 

Finally after what felt like forever, Chris looked into my eyes and his mouth curved into a smile. 

“We’re having a baby?” 

The smile he had was a giant one, where you could almost count all of his teeth as he smiled down towards Dodger, showing him the sonogram on my phone as if Dodger could tell what he was looking at. 

The joy in his voice brought tears to my eyes. 

“You’re happy?” I asked. 

His hands snaked around my waist, pulling me into his lap. “I’m fucking ecstatic.” 

Our lips met in a rushed kiss, his hand finding its place on my stomach. His forehead rested against mine and his eyes shone with so much love that my heart leaped into my throat, knowing that his reaction was the complete opposite of what I was prepared for. 

“Stay here,” He mumbled against my lips in another kiss. 

I waited patiently as he rummaged for something in the desk of his office and he returned, hand behind his back. 

“I was saving this for when we went away next month but I don’t think I can wait.” He spoke before handing me a small box. 

A small velvet box. 

I gasped, watching him get down on one knee, and pried open the box. Inside was a gorgeous oval cut diamond on a plain gold band. The sunlight from outside had caught the ring in a warm glow of light. 

“This isn’t the most romantic idea of a proposal but I don’t want to wait any longer to ask you this. I first met you in this room when you came to work for me and in that moment I knew I wanted you; I needed you in my life. Y/N, you know I love you so fucking much. You have changed my life in so many ways and now we’re having a baby. You’re having my baby and somehow I love you even more. Y/N, will you marry me?” The tears welled in his eyes and he blew out a shaky breath. 

“Fuck yes!” I cried, hormones causing my eyes to pour tears down my cheeks. 

After he slid the ring on my finger, he picked me up with ease as he walked us towards our bedroom so we could celebrate the rest of our lives. 

I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed in two years since I first drove up to this house, nervous about what the job was that I had an interview for. I never imagined that I would face my past again, not letting it define who I was anymore. And I definitely never thought I would find someone who would love me with his whole entire heart and soul, knowing how hard to love I was. But he did; Chris vowed to me that night in hushed moans that he loved me then and forever. 

Along with the baby I was growing in my stomach; our baby. 

AND FIN!

[watchmegetobsessed]

VALERIE - Part IV. (Harry Styles)

hello loves!! thank you so much for the feedbacks on the previous part, i love to see your thoughts at reactions so please keep them coming for the upcoming parts as well! i was informed that the posts weren’t showing up under the hashtags bc i had an extrernal link to the spotify playlist, so that won’t be available in the next parts, but you’ll always be able to find it in the masterpost if you’d like to give it a listen! those were the songs i listened to while writing the story! now, i dont want to keep you up any longer, here is part 4, one of my personal favs, and im excitedly waiting for your feedbacks on the post! have a wonderful reading!

word count: 4.5k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Valerie is curiously watching her dad work on the portable bed they’ve brought over for the night, her little hands clutching onto Rosa’s shirt as she is telling you all about the list she has made for you. It’s not a long one, but you try to focus on every word she says, making sure you won’t mess anything up.

“I put an X behind the important ones,” she explains pointing at the paper and you nod, eyes roaming down on the few X’s on the list. “The other ones are just suggestions, things I thought you should know.

“Got it,” you nod again, biting into your bottom lip. Bath time, feeding, sleep time, everything is covered in the list and you’re happy she even mentioned the smallest details. Some things might be natural for her as she’s been doing it for months, but it’s your first time completely alone with a baby. You surely don’t want to mess this up, especially because you want her to trust you and let you look after Valerie more often. They deserve a break now and then.

Steven finishes the bed and backs out a few stuffed animals along with two blankets into it, making it look cozy and familiar for Val.

“But most importantly,” Rosa starts and you look her in the eyes. “Call us anytime if you need help or want us to take her home, and I mean it.”

“Not gonna happen,” you shake your head, earning a sigh from your sister.

“Y/N, I’m serious. We are thankful for the help, but it’s not your duty, alright? Just call us anytime, really.”

Nodding your head you flash a smile at her, knowing well nothing on Earth is gonna make you call them tonight. Okay, maybe there are some cases when you would call, but those are quite unlikely to happen.

She hands Valerie over who curiously eyes you before grabbing a handful of your shirt and making herself busy with the fabric.

“It’s gonna be fine. Have a great night, you deserve it,” you smile at them. Steven straightens up and curls an arm around Rosa’s waist as they watch Val in awe, clearly a little worried they are gonna spend an entire night without her, but you can tell they also can’t wait for some alone time.

“Alright, we should get going,” Rosa sighs and stepping closer she kisses Valerie’s head and then your cheek as well. “Have fun with your aunty! We’ll be back for you in the morning, Sweetie.”

She runs her hand over her little head and Valerie smiles at her happily, completely oblivious to what’s really happening. The joys of being just a baby!

Steven says goodbye to her as well and you all head to the door. 

“So, we’ll be here around eight, she is usually up by six. Do you want us to pick her up sooner?” Rosa asks standing at the front door.

“Sooner? I was about to tell you to sleep a little longer, you don’t have to come so early.”

“But we don’t want to take away your whole day, you need to rest too,” Steven explains, worry all over his face.

“Stop worrying about me, I’ll be fine. Just enjoy your night off! Come on, I’m throwing you guys out, time for the sleepover to start,” you tell them, shushing them out the door. 

It takes some time to finally get them to leave, but they eventually do. Then it’s just the two of you, alone for the first time.

“Ready for your first sleepover, Val?” you ask her, standing in the hallway of your apartment. She just stares back at you, saliva drooling from her mouth but even that looks cute on her. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You braced yourself for the worst. Thought about all the possibilities how the evening would go, but you hoped they wouldn't become reality. Unfortunately, baby Valerie had different plans for the two of you.

The first hour goes by fine. You feed her, have a little play time, reading her favorite book to her, but slowly, you notice her losing interest in anything and everything. Soon enough, you see her face distort into a grimace and a few moments later she starts crying and it’s straight downhill from there. 

Nothing can get her to stop. No food, no toy, absolutely nothing. You clown around, trying everything that pops into your mind that would calm her down, but it doesn’t seem like she is about to stop anytime soon. 

You start to panic. Rosa told you how fussy she is because of her teeth coming, but you didn’t think it would be this bad. When she’s been crying for an entire hour straight, for a split second, you think about calling Rosa. 

“No, not gonna do that,” you say, while Val is still screaming in your arms. “Valerie, what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you, I promise! Just please stop crying!” you whine desperately, but, no surprise, no answer comes from the screaming babe in your arms, just more tears, puffy eyes and red cheeks from all the crying she’s been doing.

Trying to rock her into calmness you are moving around in the apartment when you hear your phone ringing. You instantly think it’s gonna be Rosa, wanting to check in on you, but how are you gonna answer the call when Valeries is screaming from the top of her lungs? She’ll come to pick her up straight away, no doubt about that.

Rushing into the kitchen you are relieved to see that it’s just Harry calling you.

“It’s not the best of times, Styles,” you sigh as you answer the call and put him on the speaker, leaving the phone on the countertop, so you have both your hands free for Valerie.

“Hey, I was just-- what the fuck is happening?” he asks hearing the deadly cries of Val through the line. “Is that Valerie?”

“It is! I’m looking after her so Rosa and Steven can celebrate their anniversary, but she just wouldn’t stop crying! I don’t know what to do!” 

You’re absolutely desperate. It’s so bad you can feel your throat closing up, nearing the edge of your patience, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, but you tell yourself only one of you can cry at a time and Val has taken that spot quite some time ago, not even giving you a moment to let loose.

“Text me your address, I’m leaving now,” he orders and you snap your head towards the phone.

“What? No, Harry--”

“Just text me the damn address, Y/N!” he barks and the line cuts off right away. 

Your desperation pairs with shock now, not knowing what to think about this short, but quite eventful conversation you just had with him. It takes you a few moments to collect your thoughts, but you end up sending him your address. 

Nothing changes in the twenty minutes while you are waiting to hear anything from Harry following your text to him. Valerie keeps crying with three seconds of pauses when she takes a few deep breaths only to start screaming once again. Aside from the headache she is causing you, it’s becoming pretty impressive how long she’s been doing it. You probably would have fainted by now, but it seems like Valerie is running on an endless battery.

“You are really making it hard for me to be a cool aunt, Val,” you mumble, the baby still in your arms as the tears keep rolling down her face. Your light grey shirt is now soaking wet, both from her tears and your sweat from the anxiety she is giving you, mixed with some other things you choose to ignore where they came from.

The doorbell makes you jump, but Valerie doesn’t even bat an eye at the sound, she just keeps going.

“You need to teach me how to have this much energy,” you mumble under your breath as you walk over to the door. 

Opening it you find yourself staring up at Harry who is wearing a brown coat, dark jeans and a black hoodie. If you had to guess what he was doing on this weekend evening you would have said he was out with friends somewhere, picking up girls, but he surely doesn’t look like he was anywhere else than his home, the clothes are hanging messily on his frame, like he just threw them on in a rush.

His green eyes look straight at you at first before moving over to the crying child in your arms. You fully expect him to say something along the lines of “this is the kind of effect you have on others” comment, but it seems like he notices the fear and despair in your eyes and he keeps his mouth shut.

“I honestly have no idea what to do,” you choke out and the tears start flowing from your eyes as well, making Harry have to deal with now two crying human beings.

“Oh my, please don’t cry, I can’t take two crying women at once,” Harry begs as he steps inside and shuts the door behind him. Turning to face you he reaches for Valerie, you hand her over to him, hoping she would magically stop the crying, but she clearly couldn’t care less.

“Why, can you take one?” you ask with a bitter chuckle as you wipe your cheeks.

“Not really,” he admits, making you smile. “So what have you tried?” he asks as he starts swaying and rocking Valerie in hopes of getting her to stop, but not even Harry’s charm stands a chance with her right now. Deep down you’re happy you weren’t the reason she got so fussy and upset, would have been pretty awkward if she stopped the moment Harry took her into his arms. 

“Literally everything,” you huff, shoulders falling forward. “I went over the list Rosa gave me, tried everything, but she wouldn’t stop. She’s teething, but this is… It seems like there might be something else maybe?” you tell him worried that something serious might be behind her behavior. You really don’t want to call and bother Rosa, but you are nearing the point where you’ll give up and ask for help.

“Maybe she needs to be changed?” Harry suggests holding her up, giving her butt a sniff, but you roll your eyes at him.

“You don’t think that was one of the first things I did? She is as clean as she could be. Maybe I should just call Rosa,” you sigh in defeat reaching for your phone but Harry snaps at you.

“No! Don’t, we can figure this out. Steven has been so excited to have a night off, we can’t ruin this for them. Come on, we have to have the slightest parenting skills and solve this without them.”

Nodding you agree with him, but you’ve completely run out of ideas.

“So what do you suggest?”

You can see the gears turning in Harry’s head as he is trying to come up with a plan, but it’s not like either of you have any experience with babies. The idea of calling Rosa is starting to burn in the back of your head, fear of failing this challenge taking over your thoughts.

Then Harry looks at you with a look that screams that he has an idea. You’re just about to ask what came into his mind when all of a sudden he starts to sing.

“Well, sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water, and I think of all the things what you’re doing and in my head I paint a picture…”

You instantly recognize Amy Whinehouse’s iconic song, the one that’s also behind Valerie’s name, you know that for sure. Rosa was obsessed with the song growing up, she would sing it on the way to school, in the shower or while making dinner. You weren’t surprised she chose this name for her first daughter.

What surprises you that Harry sings like a literal angel. He hits the notes perfectly, nailing the lines like not many can and you listen to him with parted lips, eyebrows raised. This was the last thing you expected from him, but then again, it’s not the first time Harry has surprised you through the years of knowing him.

Valerie stops for a moment, her hiccups shaking through her body as her tear-filled eyes look up to Harry, and you both think this is gonna be the moment when she finally calms down, but he doesn’t even reach the chorus before she starts crying again, a defeated sigh erupting from him.

“Maybe she wants it instrumental,” you suggest and Harry gives you one of those ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ looks as you leave to run down the hallway, right into your bedroom.

“How am I supposed to make it instru-- what the hell, Y/N?!” He gives you a weirded out look when you return with a guitar in your hands. “Since when do you play the guitar?” 

“Since like… eighth grade,” you tell him as you sit on the couch and holding the guitar on your lap you try to find the right accords. “I told you, you know nothing about me.”

Harry nods with a surprised but amazed look on his face as your fingers strum against the chords. It takes a few minutes but you figure it out and glancing up you give a questioning look to Harry.

“From the start?” you ask and he nods his head, continuously bouncing up and down to try to calm Val down.

You start playing the song and soon enough Harry joins you with the singing, the two of you perfectly nailing it even without any practice.

“Stop makin’ a fool out of me, why don’t you come on over, Valerie?”

Maybe it’s the guitar, maybe it’s the singing or maybe the fact that the song has her name in it, but by the time you reach the halfway point in the song Valerie’s crying slowly starts to fade. You instantly share a look with Harry, but don’t stop, fearing that she might start again if the music stops. 

Her tear soaked cheeks smooth out as she is not screaming anymore and you can actually see her irises finally, her long lashes are sticking together from the salty tears and you know it’s gonna take some time for her to regain her normal state, but at least the crying has stopped. 

“‘Cause since I’ve come on home, well, my body’s been a mess. And I’ve missed your ginger hair and the way you like to dress…”

You tear your eyes off Valerie for a second, letting yourself wander over Harry’s features as he sings. He slightly furrows his eyebrows focusing on the lines, so his forehead has a few creases on it. His lips form the words so clearly and elegantly, you wonder how often he sings. Is it something he only does when he is on his own or he likes to perform as well? 

The only time when you heard him sing was at the bar when the two of you slayed the karaoke machine with that Avril Lavigne song. You were smashed by then, you remember that he had a nice voice but it was the last thing you paid attention to. Besides, he was kind of equally drunk as you, it was all for just fun, but now is a completely different situation. 

It’s no surprise Valerie finds his voice soothing, you’d probably stop whatever you were doing if you heard him sing. There are people with a good voice and then there are the ones that not just have a good voice but also that small something, that extra magic in them that makes you melt as their voice caress your ears. Harry is definitely the second case, for a moment you forget where you are or why he is there singing. It’s just his voice and the gentle strumming of your fingers on the chords. 

At the end of the song he starts repeating Valerie as the song slowly fades into nothing and you both stare at the little girl in his arms, clearly afraid she might start crying again. Unfortunately, your reservations become valid when you see the corners of her mouth curls down and you and Harry share a shocked look immediately.

“What else can you play?” he urges as Val whimpers in his arms, letting you know she does not appreciate that the singing has stopped. 

“Shit, shit! Um, something from ABBA?” you propose and Harry nods quickly, not even asking which song you know, so you take it as a sign that he probably knows all of them.

The first song that comes to your mind is Andante, Andante and you don’t hesitate to start playing again, just in time. Valerie was just about to start crying again, but as soon as the melody hit her little ears she calmed down and listened to it with tired looking eyes.

“Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze…” Harry sings the words and you can’t hold a smile back as he, once again, hits the notes just perfectly without missing a beat.

You’re convinced there’s not one person on Earth who has never heard a single Abba song, most of the population knows them by heart, but somehow you couldn’t really imagine Harry to be a person who knows the lyrics to the songs as well. But he does and sings it without messing it up even just once. It’s hard to imagine a younger version of Harry singing ABBA songs when they come on the radio, but the more you think about it the more the picture paints itself in your mind.

Valerie lays her head to Harry’s chest, stuffing her thumb into her mouth as she listens to the performance. She is probably enjoying the vibrance of his voice shaking through his chest and maybe this is what brings her the peace she’s been looking for all this time. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of them.

Harry glances at you, eyes so soft you melt under his gaze. However nerve wrecking it was to have Valerie scream for hours, she is still the cutest little thing ever as she rests her head on his chest, her long blinks giving it away she has definitely lost most of her energy. 

You don’t dare to stop the singing and playing. When you near the end of a song you quickly think of something else and whisper it over to Harry, who then gives his feedback on it with either a nod or a shake of his head. Most of the time he knows the songs you suggest so the show continues without a stop. 

Half an hour passes by when you see her eyes slowly closing. You still don’t stop though, only when Harry tries to listen to her breathing and he realizes that it was completely slowed down. She is out.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out quietly, your fingers feeling numb from the playing. You haven’t had a guitar in your hands for this long in a while, probably for years. Harry shares your relief, his throat has completely dried out and he is happy to finally breathe evenly, not just sneak a few breaths in between lines. 

“And now what?” he mouths as he is still gently swaying around with the sleeping Valerie in his arms. You put the guitar aside and check if she is for real asleep. Her long lashes are spread out on her puffy cheeks, gently snoozing into Harry’s chest as if she weren’t screaming for dear life just an hour ago. 

“Let’s put her down,” you whisper and nod at him to follow you. 

Reaching your bedroom you only switch your bedside lamp on so the light doesn’t wake her up. Pushing the stuffed animals to the side you grab the blankets and let Harry do the critical job. Leaning down he oh so slowly starts to pull her away from his chest, careful not to move too suddenly, it all feels like in those action movies when they are trying to get through the lasers without triggering the alarm. One bad move and the screaming threatens to start again and that’s the last thing you want, after all you’ve done to calm her down. 

You don’t even realize it but as you watch her little head reach the mattress you hold your breath, almost wincing upon seeing Harry’s hands slide out from under her sleeping frame. As if you wait for something to go wrong, both of you freeze for a moment, expecting her to start moving around and wake up, but she stays still. 

Eyes snapping up to Harry, you exchange a look and then you both head to the door, careful not to make any noise that can possibly shake Valerie up from her dreams.

“This was more tiring than running a marathon,” he huffs, throwing himself to the couch and you do the same next to him. 

“Have you ever run a marathon?”

“No,” he confidently answers and you look over at him with a puzzled look. “But I can imagine how tiring it is.”

You let out a chuckle, letting your eyes close for just a little bit. You haven’t even had the chance to realize how much this whole struggle with Val sucked the energy out of you, but now that you’re half lying on the couch it hits you all at once.

“I should get going,” you hear Harry mumble, clearly just as tired as you are, but he doesn’t move. 

“Mhm,” you hum, feeling yourself drift to sleep.

Neither of you moves and it doesn’t take a whole five minutes for the both of you to completely doze off.

The next time you wake up you feel an arm curled around your waist and someone is definitely pressed up against you while your back is against the back of the couch. It takes you a couple of moments and some blinking to realize it’s Harry you are all snuggled up to and the reason why you woke up is because Valerie is crying again. 

“Shit,” you mumble to yourself, mind still groggy from the sleep as you push yourself up on the couch. Just moments later Harry’s eyes flush open and you’re not sure it’s because of the crying or because you moved next to him. His arm slides off you as he looks around a little confused about his surroundings.

You don’t have the chance to think about how the two of you ended up cuddling on the couch, though it lingers in the back of your mind. Basically crawling over Harry you rush into your bedroom where Valerie is lying in her bed crying. It’s a different kind of cry, not like the one you were stuck with for hours before and you know she must be hungry.

“Ah, come on, little girl. It’s alright,” you coo at her scooping her into your arms. She immediately cuddles to your chest hiccupping against it, her little hands fisting your shirt. You leave to go to the kitchen and feed her, but just as you’re about to step out of the room you bump into Harry.

You bounce back from his chest, but his hand immediately reaches for you and grabs your arm, holding you in case you might fall back.

“Sorry,” you breathe out, thoughts still foggy a little. “She’s… hungry,” you explain, but he is standing so close to you, you can feel his body’s warmth and it instantly ignites the memory of being pressed against his side on the couch just moments ago and you can’t stop yourself from inhaling a shaky breath. 

“Let me help,” he croaks out and the two of you walk into the kitchen. Putting on her bib you hand her over to Harry who sits with her on his lap on a stoop as you get the baby food, warm it a little before joining the two of them and you slowly start feeding her.

“What time is it?” you ask realizing you have no idea how long you two have been asleep on the couch.

“It’s three am,” Harry answers before smiling down at Val. “Good job, Val!” he hums watching her take the spoon into her mouth.

You finish up feeding her, then give a try at burping her even though Rosa said it’s not necessary anymore. She just hums to herself so you head back to the bedroom, her eyes already threatening to close. By the time you put her back to the bed she is out again, so no private show is needed this time.

Walking out of the room you see Harry putting on his shoes and coat. For a split second you feel disappointed that he is leaving, but then your rational side puts you to your place. Of course he is leaving! Val is fine now, there’s no other reason for him to stay, right?

“Harry,” you softly say and he looks at you. “Can you please not tell Rosa and Steven that I needed help with Val?” you quietly ask, though there’s no doubt your eyes are practically begging him.

“No way I’ll ever admit to Steven that I sang ABBA to his child, so don’t worry about it,” he chuckles making you smile as well. 

“Thank you. And for helping me as well. I was really close to giving it up,” you admit folding your arms on your chest as Harry stands at the front door, hand on the door knob as he is looking back at you.

“No problem. Now you owe me one,” he smirks and you can’t hold yourself back from rolling your eyes.

“Sure,” you say with an airy chuckle. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he smiles at you sweetly before opening the door and walking out. 

You take his place at the door and watch him walk down the eerily quiet hallway. He turns back to you one last time waving in your way and you nod back smiling before he disappears around the corner.

Closing the door you lean your back against it, taking a deep breath. Your eyes wander over to the couch where you and Harry were sleeping not so long ago. The feeling of his arm around you is still burned into your mind and you breathe in shakily as a memory snaps into your head of the exact same thing, only years earlier.

You lied almost exactly like that in his hotel room that night. His strong arms wrapped around you as you had your head laid on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was slightly faster than the normal. Though you were still quite drunk, this feeling imprinted into your memories, because you felt so safe with him. Like nothing could ever hurt you if he was there with you.

Unfortunately, that feeling faded into nothing when you woke up in the morning quite fast. But this time, instead of disappointment and disgust, the only thing you still feel is the emptiness at the lack of his touch. 

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[obeiii-mee]

Hi there! Im back, tysm for doing my HC ;;/ it was super cute, i really liked Mammons and Satans!! If you dont mind if i ask for another? Hdjsks Recently, i slipped while walking home with some pals and scrapped my knee. It wasnt too bad, but it sure looked bad lmao If you can could you do HCs for the boys reacting to MC slipping and scrapping there knee while walking w them? Im sure Mammon would have a heart attack hfjd Tysm!! Keep up the good work♡

Thank you so much! I hope your knee gets better and that it wasn’t too painful! The brothers would all be panicking in their own way but I agree, Mammon would faint or something lmao.

Hope this was OK.

————————————

The Brothers with an MC who fell and scraped their knee:

Lucifer:

-It was a miracle you managed to convince him to come out on a walk with you at all

-The man doesn’t know when to take a break from his work

-He’s more likely to accept if it’s you asking tho, he has an obvious soft spot for you

-The others call him a suck up behind his back because of it

-You were so happy that you managed to pry Lucifer away from his desk, you were basically skipping alongside him

-Long story short, you tripped over your own two feet and fell

-Luckily, your knees and palms were the only things that got a bit scruffy

-Well, actually your right knee looked as if someone tried removing your entire knee cap with a scalpel, skin and all but adrenaline was kicking in and you couldn’t feel much

-You’ve never seen Lucifer freeze the way he did then

-His mind just drew a blank

-You were about to shrug it off and call it a day, get up and continue your walk but daddy Lucifer can’t have that

-He has six younger brothers (and a younger sister at some point) he is pretty experienced when it comes to treating injuries

-You aren’t walking for the rest of the day, let me make this clear

-He will carry you back to the House of Lamentation no matter how much you protest

-In case it wasn’t obvious already, Lucifer gives off massive dad vibes and now he’s bandaging your leg while you’re laying down on his bed

-While the rest of the brothers watch the two of you from behind the door frame because they are all equally worried

-Get ready for the three hour lecture coming your way

-He’s pissed and amused at the same time tbh

-Silly human, falling over like that and hurting themselves

-Lord Diavolo forbid you try to get out of that bed, he will drag you back and make sure you stay there until your knee is better (kinky)

Mammon:

-He was on his merry way to the casino to blow off all of Lucifer’s money and you tagged along solely for the purpose of making sure he didn’t spend all of Lucifer’s money

-You’d both be done for if he did

-But I guess fate really had it out for you on that day since your foot slipped on....something and you tripped

-Both of your knees looked bloody and damaged as hell but you were more irritated than anything

-Mammon on the other hand did a fucking double take and almost passed out

-He screeched his lungs out

-One look at your injured knees and he was ready to drag you all the way to the human realm on foot to find you a doctor

-“MC ARE YOU OK WHY THE FUCK IS THERE SO MUCH BLOO-HOLY SHIT STAY STILL DON’T MOVE! THE GREAT MAMMON WILL FIX THIS...SOMEHOW.”

-It was very dramatic, he cried

-You stood up to prove that you were alright because you thought he was going to have a seizure soon enough

-OK, that helped him calm down a little

-At least now he knew your legs weren’t about to get torn off and you weren’t on the verge of death

-Fuck the casino, you were going home

-Like Lucifer, don’t expect you will walk home by yourself

-He will carry you, a bit embarrassed by his initial freak out but still eyeing your wound, concerned

-As soon as you get home and the other brothers help you out because he’s shit at bandaging, he just sits in his own pool of misery and guilt

-Your poor knees wouldn’t be so jacked up if you hadn’t come along with him today

-He was so determined to make it up to you, he stayed by your bedside like a loyal puppy with a wagging tail (flashback to the animal event)

-Overall, he almost went into cardiac arrest and was too panicked to realise you were fine

-You thought he was smothering and overprotective before? Good luck for the rest of the week

Levi:

-“See, this is why I don’t like going out. There’s always some normie laying on the groun- OH MY LORD DIAVOLO, MC IS THAT YOU?? ARE YOU OK?”

-HIS HENRY ALMOST DIED ON THE NEWLY POLISHED FLOOR OF AN ANIME CONVENTION, HE HAS VERY MIXED EMOTIONS

-You fell knees first and hurt them quiet badly but you could stand, even if the pain made you twitch a little

-This confused Levi because you looked fine even though your knees certainly didn’t

-You told him you felt alright and it wasn’t that big of a deal and he absolutely rolled with it

-But you guys still went home after that

-He said it was because you bled all over your cosplay but that’s just him being a tsundere

-Levi is usually very shy when it comes to physical contact but he firmly insisted that he help you walk home

-I mean, he knows you said you were feeling OK and maybe humans just have a lot of tolerance for injuries like that

-But he still felt it was necessary that he took you home and checked out your injuries

-He kept the mood light while disinfecting you’re wound with some help from Satan by talking about how the convention went

-High low-key relieved seeing you walk around like normal two minutes after that

-He started bitching to you about how you made him miss his the event but he didn’t mean any of it

-“Stupid normie, making me miss my favourite Ruri-chan event. You’re lucky I love you and think you’re cute....did I just say that out loud??”

Satan:

-Oh dear, why would you go out for a walk in the middle of a rainstorm? What were you thinking?

-Actually, it was Satan’s idea

-He may be a demon and the prince of Wrath no less, but he is such a sappy, cheesy bastard at times

-He definitely thinks that walking and kissing in the rain is very romantic (bet he read something like that in an erotica)

-You know what’s not romantic blondie? Slipping on a very small puddle and potentially fracturing your leg

-It was just a scraped knee but you were frustrated enough to be extra

-He’s helping you up before you even have the chance to realise you fell in the first place

-Your knee was looking pretty bad so you guys went home just to avoid any further casualties

-He’s actually chuckling all the way back while you playfully glare at him because how dare he laugh at your misery?

-Date night was ruined but at least he got to take care of you

-He knew your knee must have hurt and he felt bad but he couldn’t help but giggle a bit to himself because your fall was so comical

-Ah but he does enjoy fussing over you for the rest of the night a bit too much

Asmo:

-You thought Mammon was melodramatic?

-Take a look at this fucking guy

-He actually screeches even louder than his brother and probably falls to his knees too (but not really because those pants were expensive)

-His screams definitely got the attention of at least 10 random passerbyers

-He’s actually on the verge of crying

-I mean, can you blame him?? Look at your beautiful knees!! They were ruined

-He felt so bad for you, he actually babied the hell out of you that day

-“Asmo, it’s fine. It’s just a scrap.”

-“A SCRAP, MC IT LOOKS LIKE YOUR KNEE IS ABOUT TO FALL OFF YOUR POOR SKIN-“

-It was just a scrap but Asmo’s secret talent is being extra as fuck

-He totally spilled all the tea to the rest of the brothers when he got home

-And then he ushered you into his room

-Funnily enough, he’s pretty good with injuries. Not as much as Satan and Lucifer but still

-He pampered you for the next few hours but that image of your skin being all grazed like that will forever haunt him

-How can you not be so bothered by it?? He’d die if he was in your place

-I love Asmo just because of how dramatic he is

Beel:

-Your shoelaces were undone and of course that meant a fun little trip to the floor of Hell’s Kitchen

-Beel didn’t notice you fell at first, he was concentrating on his food and assumed you were next to him

-But then he realised that you weren’t and for a moment he thought you disappeared or something

-Before he turned to find you laying on the floor, curled up because life was pain and you were suffering

-“Are you OK? Or are you just tired? Belphie does that a lot when he’s tired.” Or depressed one might say

-But for real, he’s good at identifying serious wounds and less serious wounds since he’s an athlete

-He can tell your knees were bleeding way more than they should have from just a simple scrap

-He slinged you over his shoulder and carried you, calmly, back home, with a burger still in his hand

-He’s actually really collective and talked to you while cleaning up your injury to take your mind off the pain

-He knows humans are a little more fragile than demons so even though he knows it’s not a big deal, he can’t help but worry

-It’s kinda hard falling around him tho because chances are, he will actually catch you even if he happens to hold something

-He’s sad if you’re sad so please don’t cry he will bandage your scraped knee do you want the last bit of his burger to make you feel better?

-Comfort hugs afterwards!

-Which is awesome because Beel gives out best hugs :)

Belphie:

-Ah yes, another beautiful day at RAD

-Walking alongside with your grumpy and sleepy boyfriend when a random demon bumps into you

-Wel not bumps, more like shoves you so hard you fall down and tear the fabric of your pants

-While the dude shrugs it off and speeds away

-You were a bit pissed off because rude

-But Belphie was fucking fuming

-He felt so offended on your part

-I mean, the nerve of him

-He was tired as shit but he wanted to chase after him and throw hands, possibly fill his pillow with rocks and hit him over the head with it

-He forced himself to focus on you first before hunting the moron down

-He was a bit concerned when he didn’t see you come back up after you fell

-Turns out, you scraped your knee pretty horribly and now you were bleeding all over the floor

-He’s even more quiet than usual as he helps you up and half carries you to your next class

-He starts taking care of your knee in the middle of DevilDom history he doesn’t give a flying fuck

-He’s still furious by the time he gets home and most of his brothers know to leave him be when he makes that scary ass face

-No talk to him

-He angy

-“Does your knee still hurt?”

-“A bit but it’s not-“

-“Come nap with me.”

-“Why?”

-“Naps shall cure your pain.”

-“...”

-“Nah but for real come take a nap with me.”

-Next day at school, the dude from yesterday walks by him and Belphie smashes his head against the wall

-Before walking away as if nothing happened

-I stan protective Belphie

These HCs are really bad but I love them anyway

Al~

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Lucky Together”

Summary: Harry and Y/N always have wine night as best friends, but when Harry brings up the possibility of him going on a date, some confessions are made

so best friends to lovers! and its WINE WEDNESDAY!! I’m not entirely happy with this and I had an original plan for it and maybe someday I’ll actually do that, but for some reason my hands like to write angst sometimes. It’s mostly FLUFF but there is a little bit of tension, but it ends on a good note. Also it just felt kinda cliche but I still liked it - im conflicted. Let me know what y’all think feedback is appreciated :)

Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: swearing, a little angst

-

Harry heard the door opening before he even heard the knock on the door. Y/N swung inside his home as he began to get up. A grin was plastered on her face as she bounded inside, slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Harrry!” she exclaimed, dragging out his name in voice that wasn’t exactly her own - a more exaggerated, silly persona. “Are you ready to get fucked up on…” she slowed down as she looked at the label of the wine she was holding, “A $20 bottle of a lovely red wine that I can’t read the name of?!” 

She threw her bags and coat haphazardly on the floor and Harry grinned back at his best friend. Y/N was so impossibly electric sometimes. He loved feeding off her energy and she was always quick to feed off his as well.

It was Wine Wednesday, a tradition Harry and Y/N have had since the beginning of their friendship. 

They had met at a corporate party thrown by Capitol Records. They worked in completely different sectors, Y/N’s job would never cross with Harry in the studio normally, but they met that night and hit it off. A friend of Y/N did in fact work with Harry and had introduced them casually. After spending the night laughing their heads off together, Harry and Y/N had exchanged numbers, promising to follow up on things they had thrown out as things to do together. One of those ideas had been always wanting someone to have a Wine Wednesday with. She had told Harry that she did it a few times in college, but had wanted to start again now that she was a sophisticated adult. He had laughed and agreed, saying he had never had a designated day for wine, but he thought it sounded like a class idea. 

That next wednesday, Y/N had called Harry asking for his address and then told him she’d be over in twenty minutes. Y/N had burst through the door similar to how she had tonight, except the first time Harry had to open the door for her first. She had thrown her things to the ground, found her way to the kitchen and uncorked the random bottle of cheap wine she had found at the market down the street from Harry. After that, they began to switch off who was to supply the wine, but Y/N always insisted it be cheap and that they were always at Harry’s house.

They had lost track a long time ago about how many times they had done Wine Wednesday together. And it was always together and no one else.

He scoffed at his friend as she beelined to his kitchen, “Naturally!”

Y/N smiled, grabbing a fish mouth bottle opener. Y/N took it and played with it for a second, animating the bottle opened to look as if it was swimming. After amusing herself enough, Y/N set to work on opening up the random bottle of wine. Harry joined her in the kitchen, moving around her with ease to grab their two extra large wine glasses.

On their first Wine Wednesday, Harry had only brought out his regular sized wine glasses and Y/N had told him that she’d bring bigger ones next time. He had stopped her, reassuring her he had larger glasses, but hadn’t realized that was what she wanted. Her reply was that it was only the two of them drinking the bottle, “Who the fuck else is getting poured a glass?”

“What are you doing with that fish, gonna break it, love,” Harry teased as he placed the glasses to the right of Y/N.

She rolled her eyes playfully at him as she finally freed the cork from the bottle. “Was just giving Mr. Fish a proper swim before using him. It’s the same as knocking before you enter a room. ‘S polite.” She smiled smugly, before pouring two extremely full glasses of the red wine. After resting the bottle back onto the table, Y/N grabbed her glass and nodded to Harry to take his. Knowing what she meant, Harry immediately took up his glass and clinked it with hers. They both threw back their heads slightly, taking large initial gulps of their wine.

Y/N led the way into Harry’s living room, which was big and spacious. He furnished it with big comfy couches and various art pieces on the wall, some random items laid around, but mostly it was clean.

Y/N had brought over a few of the random items that laid around, when she had first come over, she had told him how bare it was in here. Next time she was there she brought over a scarf - to hang over a lamp - she’d embroidered and a small rainbow sculpture. Harry had thanked her for the gifts, but Y/N insisted he was doing her a favor by allowing a little more life in the room. “Don’t get me wrong this art is...so you. But why is there nothing else in here that screams Harry or like, I live here? Feels suffocating, so lonely” she had mused about the room. Harry didn’t have an answer for Y/N and she was okay with that.

“Okay, so what are we doing tonight? Movie, music, or gossip?” Y/N relaxed into the couch and stretched her body out, leaving her almost prone on the couch with her feet on Harry’s coffee table. Her stare fixated on his smiling face, awaiting his suggestion. He shut one eye while contemplating their options, then he took a sip of his wine and went to settle beside Y/N on the couch. “Think gossip and music, yeah?” Harry said thoughtfully as he threw his toned arm around the back of the couch.

Y/N shifted to allow herself to look at Harry. He was in a hoodie and sweats and he looked a little sleepy already. She knew that meant this Wine Wednesday was going to be a short one. As much as she loved hanging out with Harry and drinking wine, she knew that he needed his rest. If he was already looking tired, it was likely the half drunk wine bottle would end up in the trash can and she’d be catching a cab before midnight. It wasn’t annoying, Y/N always wanted Harry to take care of himself first, rather than putting others' needs ahead of his own.

Nodding, Y/N took a sip of her wine. “Alright, for music...What are we thinking? Beatles? Or...uh, Beatles?” she said as if ruminating on the bands coming out of her mouth. Harry’s hand that was on the top of the couch came down to swat at Y/N’s head. “Hmm, good choices...But I was feeling more Hall & Oates tonight. You mind?” She shrugged after hitting his hand right back. “Don’t care, but Lennon and Harrison just might be rolling in their graves right now,�� Y/N said as her eyebrows rose and she looked disapprovingly at Harry. “You literally love Hall & Oates, Y/N, hush,” he popped back up after scolding Y/N and flicked on his speakers and pressed play on his Hall & Oates playlist of their discography.

“Would I have persuaded you more if I had asked for Fleetwood?” Y/N asked when Harry returned to his seat. She shifted to sitting completely, cross legged, fully facing Harry on the couch. Harry barked out a laugh before visibly considering her question. “Maybe,” he said with a scrunch of his face like ‘if only you had asked, oh well’. They both laughed.

“Okay, now you’re usually not one for gossip,” Y/N started after they had drank some more of their wine and talked a little more about the music, “So what’s your gossip. Spill.”

“So you know the bird at the coffee shop down the street, who started working there last week?” Harry started excitedly. Y/N finished her sip and nodded seriously, curious to hear what Harry had to gossip about that concerned this woman. “Well, today she told me my coffee was on the house, and then when my black coffee was ready it had her name on it and her number!”

“That’s forward,” Y/N mused, her tone wasn’t necessarily judgemental, but it definitely wasn’t ecstatic as Harry had expected when he had decided to tell Y/N the story.

“What? Would you not have liked that if someone had done that for you?” Harry asked, genuinely wondering what made Y/N not be her usual excited self. She was also a hopeless romantic, so he had thought she would have loved this.

“I mean, I guess I would have been flattered, but you’re not seriously considering taking her out? C’mon, Harry, she obviously knows who you are,” Y/N paused, trying not to sound like a total asshole, “Just, if I were you, I would always be wary of people’s true intentions before I started anything.”

Harry sighed and took a long gulp of his wine, decreasing the amount in the glass significantly. Soon, he’d need a refill. “I know that...but she seems so sweet and I haven’t been out with anyone in awhile. Romantically.” He added the last word after a beat, like it needed clarification that when he went out with Y/N it wasn’t something romantic. She twitched and shifted in her seat, trying to push away the negative feelings she got when Harry made that distinction.

“Okay, if you’re that desperate for someone then go for it,” you said not fully realizing the exact words coming out of your mouth. Your mouth dropped when you processed what you had just said. Harry looked at you with slight disbelief. “I didn’t mean it in that way, Harry. I just-”

“No, I got what you meant. You think this woman is just using me for attention and that I’m so starved of any romantic connection that I’m willing to be used. Have you ever thought about why I’m so starved of any romantic life? Maybe because I’m always hanging out with my alleged best friend who never approves of anyone I bring up.” Harry sounded hurt. Y/N felt terrible. He set down his glass and shifted to face her more fully, his face set in a good amount of anger.

“That’s not fair, H,” Y/N sighed and placed her glass on the coffee table. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You give your heart away so easily and then people just end up taking advantage of you and hurting you. And I hate seeing you hurt. Because I’m the one who is always there to pick up the pieces.”

“Why are you always there though, Y/N? Why do you stick by my side when I’m always apparently making the wrong love choices?” Harry asks, his tone rising to something that was almost aggressive.

“Because you’re my best friend, Harry!” Y/N laughed incredulously. She was in disbelief that Harry would even ask her such a question. It was strange that their evening of fun had escalated into this nightmarish confrontation.

“That’s not enough,” Harry insisted, forcing them to continue the conversation. The conversation the two of them had never thought they needed to have. “You’re right, you’re always there to mend my broken heart. And you always discourage me from going for risky romances. And you never talk about any potential people for you? Why?”

“You’re my best friend! I don’t know what else you want me to say? What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“You know what I’m asking, Y/N.” And just like that, Harry turned from aggressive to pleading. He wanted her to say what he had always thought about her, but had never pushed it because she was his best friend. His jade-toned eyes were glassy and wide, begging for her to answer truthfully.

Y/N gripped her jaw in place at Harry’s pleading words. She raked both her hands through her hair and couldn’t believe what Harry was saying right now. Finally, she sighed when she risked a glance towards Harry’s face. It turned everything around for her, she couldn’t hide from that face. She couldn’t hide from Harry, ever.

“Because, I love you. I love you, Harry, in more than a best friend way. Happy now? That was literally the most unromantic way to tell someone you love them, but you asked for it,” she shook her head and threw herself against the couch, flailing her arms slightly in exasperation.

Harry moved himself to Y/N’s side and moved her so that she was looking at him. He rested his hand against her cheekbone, and stayed and cradled her face right there.

“I love you, too. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you. It just...something made me press the subject. It wasn’t very kind of me.” He rushed to say, instantly feeling conflicted. He was overjoyed and relieved at Y/N’s revelation, but also felt guilt for the way it had come about. He had been the one to escalate the conversation.

“I didn’t mean to call you desperate,” Y/N said softly as she raised her own hand to Harry’s face. “You aren’t desperate. You’re amazing and wonderful. You love with your whole heart and anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Darling, you’re the one someone would be lucky to be with.” Harry brushed a stray hair behind her ear and moved his face closer to hers.

“We could be lucky together?” Y/N whispered as his nose brushed up against hers. Harry blew a short breath out of his nose, hitting Y/N’s face. “I’d like that,” he responded.

Then he leaned the rest of the way and connected his lips with hers. She pressed back eagerly tasting the red wine on Harry’s lips. As they kissed, Harry felt something wet slightly touch his face.

He pulled back slightly, “Are you crying, petal?”

Y/N sniffled, “I just, I never thought this would happen. I’m happy...it’s just a lot.”

Harry nodded and wrapped his arms around her waist. “C’mere, we can just be here in this moment, together.”

Harry pulled Y/N into his lap and settled back into the couch. Her head rested softly on his shoulder and she ran a hand up and down his muscled arm. It was smooth and soft, and it radiated heat. Harry’s presence was always soothing, but especially helpful right now. Y/N calmed down, significantly, while in his arms.

“So does that mean you won’t call that bird?”

“No, no, I will definitely...not call her.” Harry chuckled at her question. He was happy that she was feeling more like herself, sarcastic and bubbly.

The pair sat snuggled on Harry’s couch, taking in each other’s presence as “Sara Smile” by Hall & Oates played softly through the speakers. They both smiled and sang softly along to the words. Happy in one another’s embrace.

-

taglist: @cronias13​ @theresthingsthatwellneverknow​ @harrys-cherrry​ @harrxier​ @sltwins​ @awesomebooklover17​ @harrys-stan​

[vien0w0]

Uuh- well , if your going to see this hello , Your way of writing headcannons are cool and you actually add alot of things to it (referencing the Slime one that is)

Then I read at the bottom it said "if you want something spesific, ask and you shall receive" or something like that-

If you dont mind, could you write headcannons of the Dream Team with a horse hybrid reader? (Im asking in a Male Pov but you can make it a female reader)

Like the reader is a Draft Horse Hybrid and is rather large and muscular because of their animal side and just drawfs all 3 of them , and let's say that reader also has a form that is just a full on Draft Horse , could you maybe also say which of the 3 would actually try to ride them like a normal horse , just how they would react and act around reader

I dont mean to be a bother and you can completely ignore this if you dont want to do it! (Sorry its alot , didnt mean to type so much lol)

ask and you shall receive.

i don't really know much about horses, nor the Dream Team, and i don't really know how to do reader headcanons, BUT I WILL TRY FOR YOU!! also i count the Dream team being Dream, Sapnap, GeorgeNotFound, BadBoyHalo and Callahan (bc Callahan seems cool don't question me, they're now a part of the Dream Team screw you)

the reader is fucking huge, like way taller than anyone. like they tower over the other guys, very much like 9 to 10 feet tall. BBH is jelous, although he doesn't say it

Sapnap is very jealous and is very vocal about it

the reader is similar to a centaur, George absolutely tries to ride them, he wants to pretend to be a pretty British prince riding into battle

Bad tries to stop him, because he considers it disrespectful

George doesn't care, he does it anyway, nobody can stop him. his beautiful shroom hat is too powerful to be stopped

scratch that, Dream just knocked him off with the help of Sapnap

the reader is laughing their ass off, their knees are buckling, oh no, they're gonna fall on everyone

in the end, it's Callahan who gets a ride on the reader's back. he just gave them some apples and carrots and then asked to hitch a ride, he needed to get somewhere faster

George watches sadly, not being able to gracefully ride around with their friend

reader absolutely has a beautiful head of hair, gorgeous whether it is short or not

when resting, the gang just hangs around reader. since they're fucking huge, the guys just rest on them and bring blankets and food. it becomes a picnic

if the reader has long hair, Callahan spends the majority of the picnic quietly braiding their hair

Dream fiddles with the braids

if the reader has short hair, Callahan braids their tail(?)

again, Dream fiddles with them

Sapnap talks about random things with the reader, childhood stories, random mishaps, random facts, etc.

Dream sometimes buts in, tells the reader the ACTUAL stories, because Sapnap leaves out some moments where he's stupid and does dumb shit

George then ALSO BUTS IN, telling parts where Dream does the DUMBEST THING.

Bad tries to keep everything nice and not have everyone yelling

the reader finds it fucking hilarious

Callahan is the only calm one the entire time

Bad ends up yelling the most, Dream and George are cursing at each other, Sapnap is yelling over them and laughing, the reader can't talk they're laughing too much, and Callahan is just chill

he's having fun tho, you can tell

it's one of the reader's fondest memories, the picnics

at one point the reader and Dream team up in manhunt and they are the ultimate team, nobody can stop them. they could try, but it's not really useful, the reader could easily stomp on them

uh oh, Technoblade demands a rematch with Dream while he rides on the reader and Techno rides on Carl

tough fight, ends in a draw

that's it, that's the headcanons

i hope this is good enough!! please go ahead and ask for more!

[petboymart]

more! because i have lost control over my life!

this is puppy!himekawa adoption story because as much as i love puppy!bokuto and all of the other popular pet boys i want more content for the under appreciated good boys

so anyway you adopt puppy!himekawa from a breeder, they had a litter of puppies a while ago and all of them sold except for him, so he grew up there for the most part because everyone else wanted a puppy and he was already 20 (like human 20 idk when that is in puppy boy years). and you were going to get a puppy, but then you looked at him, and he looked like he had no hope of being adopted, and you went yep. that one officer. that’s the one who stole my heart. his sentence is life with me.

so you walk up to him, and you crouch down, and you scratch his curly brown hair and little ears. and he just melts into your touch, poor touch starved baby. and then you get up to go tell the breeder you want him you scratch a few puppy ears on the way, but he sees and he gets all sad because he thinks you just pet him out of pity. but then after getting everything sorted with the breeder, you come back into the adoption room with a yellow leash and collar with a cute little bow and bell on it, and he just thinks it’s so cute, and he’s so envious that not only does a puppy get to go home with you, but you even bought them a cute collar too!!! but then you walk past all of them, right back to him, bend down, and clip the collar around his neck. and once it processes he licks all over your face so exited because he has a home now!!!

so you get him in the car and the entire ride home he’s staring at you with love struck eyes and his tail is going so fast because he’s so happy that someone picked him!! him!! over all the puppies!! what are the odds!! he thinks that you must be some kind of angel!! and because he is practically rescue dog age you assume he already has a name and he kind of sits there for a minute with his eyebrows furrowed and you’re like oh my god did that bitch seriously have him for that long and not name him?!? and then he just says HIMEKAWA!!! so exited with a big grin on his face and you think oh my god he just named himself, quick praise him so he knows you like it!!! then you tell him “well himekawa i think that you have a very pretty name!” and he looks so happy and proud omg.

then you get him home and you show him around and you show him all the toys you bought for him and he thinks this is heaven. i died and this angel human took me to heaven. but really you live in like a two bedroom apartment with one bathroom.

so he immediately loves you, for obvious reasons. and he gets so so sad when you go to work, and he begs and begs you not to go, he whimpers and whines, and the second time you were about to leave he started crying. (it didn’t happen the first time because he didn’t realize that you would be gone for that long) so you go to your boss who you’re very close with and your like, i’m gonna work from home, and they’re like ok i don’t give a shit and then your like ok but i need you to help me with something. and then the next day you get up and get dressed for work and pretend like your going to leave, and obviously the whole routine starts, and just as his eyes get teary you’re like you know what? i’m tired of leaving you for work! i’m gonna call my boss right now and tell them that i’m going to work from home! and he gets so exited and he watched you pull out your phone and call your boss, and you put in on speaker and “bargain” with your boss to work from home to spend more time with you puppy who you love very much and your boss finally “relents” and your little puppy is just so amazed that you did that just for him!!

so then on he either sits in your lap or rests his head on your thigh while you tap away on your laptop, or write, or sketch, so content that you’re home all the time now.

he’s very playful, he will paw and attack all of his toys, the little bell on his collar jingles with every move. he tried to cook to help out but he somehow started three fires and melted one of the pan handles, so he just cleans. and he was so guilty, he’s such a little cry baby, so he came up to you, tears streaming down his face, begging for forgiveness, and your like i hated that pan anyway, it never cooked things right! honestly you did me a favor. you’re such a good boy himekawa! and he brightens up so quick because he did something good! he’s a good boy!

now the thing about getting intimate with him is that he wants to get intimate, but he’s scared to ask. as we can all see, he’s not very assertive and he has some confidence issues. but one day you come home from the store to him in nothing but a pair of little yellow briefs that you bought him that match the only other item he has on, his yellow collar with it’s little bell and bow, and he smiles so big at you and runs up to you, to explain that oh i was washing the dishes and got water on my clothes isn’t that funny! i put them in the washer and i haven’t gotten changed yet.

and you just smile gently at him while grabbing his hand and walking to your bedroom. you gently lay him on the bed and start kissing his chest and neck, his eyes get so wide, you can feel his cock start to get hard under you. then you pull off all your clothes and his little yellow boxers and you ask him if this is ok, and he just burst out with pleads and begs to please please fuck him pretty pretty please he’ll be such a good boy, so you stroke his little cock before putting it in to ride him. and he’s just whimpering and whining with a death grip on your hips. he starts bucking up into you because it feels so good master please go faster please please.

and eventually he gets tired of how slow you’re going so he flips you over and pounds into your pussy while whimpering and whining, and he starts crying like the little cry baby he is. once he cums he drops down between your thighs and ears his cum out of you, making sure you cum while he’s down there.

he’s very much a bratty bottom just without the bratty. like he’ll flip you over to be on top because he wants to go faster or harder but if you tell him no he will apologize and beg for forgiveness, with tears in his eyes.

he very much likes to ride your thigh while you work. it feels so good being so close to you, but he never takes his clothes off and always cums in his pants.

he also likes to eat you out while you work. he loves the taste of your pussy, he loves the praise and the head pats. every time he eats you out when you work he cums practically untouched aside from some head scratches, hair pulling, and ear rubbing.

puppy!himekawa is a very good little crybaby boy and he loves you so much.

-✌️

i 🥺

HES SO CUTEEEEEE

AHSIHSOFUSIUFFK

puppy himekawa so cute

hes so sweet and obedient Im gunna cry abt it

also don’t stop 💞 let the brainrot take over 💞

AND UNDERAPPRECIATED PETBOYS ARE A MUST IN THIS STORE

THEY NEED LOVE TOO 💞💞💞

[sarah-sandwich]

"I need a hug" please and thank you!

Hi friend! Here it is! Remind me to never commit to a fic a day for an entire week again lmao

Happy last day of National Storyteller Week to everyone who creates or consumes stories! Jump over to my ao3 for 5 ridiculous parkner fics 👌✨💛

Peter, no

He probably should have clued in sooner, a lot sooner.

Him and Peter have been attached at the hip for three years, ever since Peter ran into the lab in the middle of a video call with Tony, shouted something about an arm-wrestling tournament with the Avengers, and begged, “You gotta come trash talk them for me! Please, Mr. Stark! No one roasts as good as you!” Then, after receiving Tony’s resigned agreement, exclaimed, “I’m gonna dislocate Captain America’s shoulder!” turned tail and sprinted back out, ignoring Tony’s, “Peter, no!”

It was over in under a minute but he was bewitched.

“Who was that? And why haven’t I met him?”

“I’ve been avoiding this day,” Tony said in a world-weary tone. “You’re either going to hate each other or get on like a house fire. Either way, I’ll never know peace again.”

In usual Tony Stark fashion, he was right.

He thought he’d seen every side of Peter there is. He’s seen him soft and sleepy under the blue glow of the television. He’s seen him wired and manic as he pursues a project on little to no sleep. He’s seen him broken and bleeding in more ways than he cares to count. He’s seen him laughing until he cries, crying so hard the only thing he can do is cry with him, too exhausted to feed himself, too angry to speak, and he’s been there when he’s on the cusp of dropping dead from embarrassment (usually pointing and laughing but hey, somebody’s gotta keep him humble).

He knows him like he knows his sister, like he knows his mom, like he knows himself.

His point is, it shouldn’t have taken this camping trip to put the pieces together. Realization shouldn’t have hit him like a log to the face when Peter rolled up the sleeves of his borrowed flannel and suddenly he couldn’t breathe for wanting to kiss him stupid.

Well, stupider.

A moment later, Peter picked up the bag of tent poles like they weighed nothing and somehow managed to dump them all over the side of the road like a can of pick-up-sticks.

It’s gonna be a long weekend.

~*~

“What’s this thing for again?” Peter asks, raising his arms high over his head to hold up the long swath of fabric two times his height.

“It’s a rain fly, Peter. It keeps out the rain.”

“It’s not supposed to rain. Trust me, Aunt May checked the weather like 50 times before she would let me leave.”

“We still need it.”

“But why? We could sleep under the stars.”

“It traps in heat.”

“Sounds like another tally in the cons column. It’s hot as fuck, dude.”

“Not tonight it won’t be. Temperature fluctuates a lot in the mountains, especially when the sun goes down.”

“Temperature fluctuates in the mountains,” Peter repeats mockingly.

Harley stops what he’s doing. “If you really wanna sleep under the stars I don’t have to share my tent. Enjoy the skeeters.”

“You love me too much to leave me to sleep with the wildlife,” Peter says, voice muffled from under the rain fly as he attempts to drape it over the erected tent.

His heart skips. Does he know? Has he been that obvious even while oblivious to his own feelings? Did Peter figure it out before he did? Has he been graciously not saying anything about his huge undeniable crush while—

Peter squawks and tumbles forward, the tent collapsing under him with a snap that echoes through the trees. The rain fly flutters over him like a burial shroud.

“Please tell me whatever just broke was a part of you.”

“Uhh, sorry.”

He sighs. He’s in love with an idiot.

~*~

The tent leans a little to the left when they’re done with it but he’s pretty sure it’ll hold up through the night. Just in case, they limit how often they go in and out of it (which, in his opinion, is the way it should be done regardless).

A breeze rustles the trees, scattering pine needles as birds chitter and small unseen wildlife scurries around the underbrush. He breathes in deep, savoring the scent of dirt, pine, and fresh air. He’s been in the city far too long.

Peter stands with his hands on his hips, dirt crusted on the knees of his jeans, his borrowed flannel pulling tight across his chest as he watches a puffy white cloud scoot by with a befuddled expression.

He turns to Harley. “So umm, now what?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. You’re the one who’s never done this before?”

Peter stares at him blankly.

“Right. Forgot who I was talking to.” He shakes his head and walks over to the car with a sigh. “This way, city boy. It’s time you learned to fish.”

“Sounds smelly.”

“Mmm.” He pops the trunk and pulls out two fishing rods—one old and dinged up, the other brand-spankin-new—and he passes them to Peter so he can grab the tackle box and a white plastic bucket with a lid on it.

“And slimy,” Peter continues, wrinkling his nose at the bold ‘WORMS’ printed on the side of the white bucket.

“That it is, but there aren’t any rats and no one has pissed on the place you need to sit so it’s automatically better than anything the city has to offer.”

“We’ll see about that,” Peter grumbles.

~*~

“Y’know,” Harley drawls lazily, eyes half-lidded as he watches Peter jump from rock to rock along the shoreline, “usually when people are lookin’ to catch a fish they cast their line into the water rather than leavin’ it on the ground.”

“Oh is that how it’s done? I had no idea,” Peter says, stooping down to peer into a small pool sequestered away from the rest of the body of water. “What do tadpoles look like?”

“Uh, little squirmy guys.”

“Very descriptive, thank you.”

“Mhmm. Anytime, darlin’.”

Peter looks up at him, eyes narrowed and he jolts under the sudden scrutiny.

“What?” he asks. He always calls him darling. It’s just a thing he says—a southern thing. So what if over the years he’s stopped using the name for anyone else? It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not weird.

“Are you falling asleep?” Peter asks.

“Pfft, no,” he says. The sun is deliciously warm, seeping into his skin and turning his bones to butter as the katydids buzz and birds sing. A warm breeze ruffs his hair and he finds himself blinking slowly.

“Dude, you’re totally falling asleep.” Peter grins playfully and hopscotches across the rocks back to him as he teases, “You know, usually when someone wants to catch a fish, they do it while they’re awake.”

“I am awake, dummy.”

“Not for much longer.” He comes to a stop at his side and tweaks the brim of his hat. “Look at you. You’re like an old man falling asleep in his recliner in front of the big game.”

“Napping is a perfectly respectable part of fishing,” he argues.

Peter throws back his head and laughs. Backed by blue sky and thickly forested mountain, sunlit from above, he’s never looked better.

Should he tell him? Is now the time? He can’t imagine living like this—knowing how he feels but bottling it up and keeping it a secret from his best friend.

Then again—

His fishing rod dips and he sits up with a start, hands already moving for the reel.

“Woah, is that a fish?” Peter exclaims, peering into the lake.

“Sure hope so. Can’t imagine what else it’d—,”

“Can I pull it in?” Peter asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excitable puppy.

“No, you if wanna get a fish you have to put in the work.”

“What work? Laying around half-asleep?”

“Yeah, exactly. I’ll let you take it off the line, how ‘bout that?”

“Eh, that’s okay. I’m good.”

He wrestles the fish out of the lake, a bass about two hands long, and then holds the flopping fish, hooked through the lip, out to Peter.

“There you go. Just pop that puppy off the hook and toss ‘im back in.”

“Wait, you don’t even keep the fish?”

“What would I do with a fish?”

“…eat it?”

“That’s a whole song and dance I ain’t got the tools or the patience for. Just grab the fish, Pete. Preferably before it suffocates.”

Peter makes an unhappy sound in his throat but reaches for the fish. Just as his fingers brush the scales, the fish gives a mighty wiggle and Peter flinches back towards the lake.

“Eep!” Peter squeaks and goes into the water with a splash.

Harley hunches over, laughing his head off as Peter sits up, water streaming down his face and dripping from his hair.

“I hate you.” Slipping and sliding in the muck, he makes his way through the mid-thigh deep water, back to dry land, and then keeps walking past Harley and up the hill to the trail that will lead him back to camp.

All the while Harley laughs and laughs, taking a moment to free the fish back into the lake before he sits down and tips his face to the sun, chuckling and committing to memory the way Peter’s soaked jeans and flannel clung all over his body.

~*~

“I still don’t see why—,”

“Shush,” Peter snaps, frowning in concentration over the tiny flame he’s been babying to life for the past fifteen minutes.

He sighs. He tried to convince him to wait until supper for a campfire meal but Mr. Eager Beaver insisted on trying his hand at it now. Had they made sandwiches they’d be done by now and could be hiking. But no. Peter wants to play Boy Scout so they’re going to sit here and starve until he gets a fire built just to spend five minutes roasting hot dogs and then have to put it out again.

To make matters worse, Peter’s no longer wearing his shirt since it got soaked in the lake. He’d gotten attached to how he looks in his clothes. Now he’s wearing on one of his standard nerd-pun tees and a wrinkly pair of khaki cargo shorts and he’s going to have to convince him to at least put on long socks before they hike or he’s going to risk getting poison ivy or poison oak all over his calves and ankles.

“There it goes! There it goes!” Peter exclaims, sitting up tall and motioning at him to look at the little flame as it eats up the pile of twigs and tinder.

“Very good, dear,” he says dryly. “Now see if you can keep it going with some real wood.”

Peter cocks his head at him. “Was that a double-entendre?”

“Why on earth would I imply that we should put a part of my human anatomy in the fire, Peter?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, squatting beside the fire as he breaks up a stick. “Dick jokes are funny.”

“You’re a child.”

“And yet you— Shit!” He flinches back from the fire and falls on his backside.

He comes alert with a spike of adrenaline, rushing forward to— to— pat out flames with his bare hands? He doesn’t know. “What happened?” he demands, checking Peter over for damage and finding nothing, not a burn or singe in sight.

Still sprawled on the ground, Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes with an embarrassed grimace. “I don’t want to say.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he sits up cross-legged and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He stares down at him as he looks down in his lap. “You’re really not going to tell me what just happened? I already saw you fall in a lake because you were scared of a fish. It can’t be worse than that.”

Peter looks up, neck crimped and mouth screwed into an unhappy pucker. “I thought something was on me but it was just the grass.”

Harley stares. “So, you thought a bug was on you.”

“Yeah. I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for this place.”

What has he gotten himself into?

~*~

Peter hasn’t stopped chattering about everything under the sun since they left camp. And considering where they are, there’s a lot to chatter about. From bugs to birds to types of trees and identifying clouds, he’s heard it all. It’s why he’s not paying attention to the path like he should, too busy watching the way Peter waves his hands animatedly as he rambles, the way the sun lights his eyes and makes his hair shine, the way his lips shape the words.

He hasn’t taken in a word he’s said for the past twenty minutes but he’s watched him with rapt attention while his mind churns through his options. He’s not one to ignore something once he knows about it. He doesn’t want to keep this a secret. There’s no reason to. It’s nothing shameful and if Peter doesn’t reciprocate then… well, nothing changes, right? He’s fine with that. Best friends is still good. Great, even.

But if Peter does reciprocate…

His breathing quickens at the thought. How did he not notice this ridiculous crush sooner? It’s like something has been awakened inside him and now it refuses to shut up and go back to sleep. He gravitates towards Peter like an orbiting moon. He’s a moth to Peter’s beam of light. Helpless under the thrall.

Peter suddenly looks right at him. “—you know what I mean?”

“Huh?” His foot lands wrong and rolls over a root. His ankle screams out and then he’s dropping as it gives out.

“Woah!” Peter catches him, one arm around his back and the other fisted into his shirt at his shoulder. His brain goes offline, only processing the way Peter is pressed against him, the way his face is angled over him like he’s on the verge of dipping him into a kiss, the way neither of them moves or speaks, staring instead with startled realization.

He thinks he imagines it when Peter’s eyes dilate but then they fix on his lips and there’s no way he’s imagining that.

Lights flash in his head and he forgets to breathe as they hang suspended in time.

Then Peter bites his lip and his cheeks flush dark pink as he yanks Harley upright.

He stumbles, unprepared, and his ankle gives out a second time.

Peter catches him by the elbows babbling, “Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to—,”

“I’m fine. I…” The rest of the sentence vanishes from his tongue as he looks into Peter’s eyes. He loves his eyes—warm and affectionate, they always give him away. Whether they’re bright with curiosity, sparkling with delight, wide with embarrassment, or narrowed in anger, he’s an open book. That’s why the look in his eyes now gives him pause. He’s never seen it before—or maybe it’s been there all along but he hasn’t noticed until now.

They’re dark and focused like he’s seeing through him into his soul and likes what he sees so much he wants to eat him alive.

His heart thunders as he lifts a hand to Peter’s cheek. This is it. This is the moment he tells him and finds out where they’re going to go next.

Peter’s eyes go wide and he swallows thickly, but then his gaze shifts beyond him and he freezes except to carefully grab his forearm in a too-tight grip.

“Bear,” Peter breathes.

His awareness of their surrounding returns so suddenly it hurts. Birds sing, bugs buzz and chirp, somewhere nearby a creek burbles, and behind him on the path, something scuffs the ground and then snorts and sniffs harshly.

“No,” he says quietly. No, he refuses to allow this to be his reality. This cannot be happening. He won’t allow this to happen.

“Harley, bear,” Peter repeats, grip tightening.

Oh my God, this is happening.

“Don’t run,” he says in an undertone. “You’re not supposed to run.”

“We gotta run.”

“Peter, no.”

“Harley, there’s a fucking bear.”

“Listen to me—,”

“I’m gonna grab you—,”

“—we gotta stay still and—,”

“I’ll carry you and—,”

“—non-threatening so—,”

“I’m going to get you up a tree and then—,”

“—it won’t chase us.”

“—the bear will chase me.”

“Peter—,”

“It’ll be fine.”

“—no.”

~*~

He waits in the tree for over an hour, ankle throbbing, sick to his stomach with worry, wondering if he’ll ever see the idiot he stupidly fell in love with ever again. Even if he didn’t get eaten by the bear, he’s no good out here in the woods. He could be lost. He could be too hurt to move. He could be—

—covered in what smells like animal shit and standing balefully at the base of the tree.

“I need a hug,” Peter says, voice small.

“Did you—,”

“I did what needed to be done.”

“So that’s—,”

“Don’t say it. Do you need help getting down?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t touch me.”

“That’s fair. I’ll be in the lake. Will you bring me all of the soap and soap-like products we own?”

“Yeah. Gimme a minute.”

“Thanks, Harley.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

I love you. I’m glad you’re not dead. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back. My life wouldn’t be the same without you in it. You’re everything I want.

“You’re an idiot,” he says.

Peter nods. “Yeah.”

~*~

“Black bears can run 35 miles per hour,” he says conversationally. They’re sprawled on a blanket while the fire crackles nearby (but not too close, they’ve had enough disasters for one day). His foot is propped on the tackle box, elevating his ankle and Peter is beside him, flat on his back staring up at the stars through the trees, close enough that their arms brush.

“Trust me, I know.”

“They can also climb trees,” he continues reading from his phone. “You should never climb a tree to avoid a bear.”

“Harley—,”

“If a bear notices you, stay calm. Most bears don’t want to attack you.”

“Dude, I get it.”

“Move away slowly and sideways. Do not run. Do not climb a tree.”

Peter snatches the phone out of his hands and sits up. “I panicked, okay? I can’t lose you! I had to get you out of there.”

He goes still, the crackling of the fire and the crickets the only sound in the night.

“Say again?”

“Don’t,” Peter says harshly, still holding his phone far out of reach. “Don’t make fun of me about this one. You don’t get it, okay?”

This isn’t how he expected this to happen. Hyper aware of his heart beating in his chest, he asks, “What don’t I get?”

“I was terrified.”

“And you think I wasn’t?”

“Not in the way I was. I was— It was like— It was like if anything happened to you, nothing would be okay ever again. I don’t—,” He pulls in a deep breath, chest heaving as his eyes shine uncommonly bright in the firelight. “I don’t know. You’re— Ever since we met things have just felt right and good in a way they hadn’t before and I’ve already lost so many people and then you were in danger and I couldn’t do nothing. I couldn’t.”

“Okay,” he says gently, sitting upright and scooting over on the blanket. “Okay.” He takes the phone and sets it aside then takes Peter’s hand in both of his. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m okay.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Peter says miserably, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his free hand. “I think I have been for a long time.”

“Well, that’s lucky because I think I’m in love with you too.”

“You— What?”

“Mhmm. Since at least this morning.”

Peter stares at him. His lips twitch. “This morning? For real? Are you teasing me?”

“A hundred percent serious. It hit me right before you dumped my tent poles all over 36th street. Unrelated, you should wear my clothes more often.” He pauses and then says, “I think today was the universe asking me if I was sure I wanted to be tied down to your dumb ass for the rest of forever.”

“And?” Peter asks, eyes wide in the firelight.

“Yeah,” he says, smoothing a curl away from his forehead. “I’m sure.”

Peter leans in and kisses him, soft and quick. “Is that okay?”

Heart in his mouth, he says, “I think you can do better.”

Peter laughs and smooths his thumb over his cheekbone. “I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin’.”

[thetransguard-archive]

couldnt find the promt posts but: joenicky monster/supernatural au? i absolutely adore ur writing btw💕

you cannot hand me the word supernatural and not expect me to think of buzzfeed unsolved RGEHFBRWFHKJL im sorry this turned into a ghost hunter’s au i just don’t know how to write vampires or werewolves or whatever else constitutes supernatural

nicky does not believe in ghosts.

so why is he standing in front of a long-abandoned house, carrying several hundred dollars worth of largely useless equipment, wearing a shirt emblazoned with a big cartoon ghost? he tells himself it’s a favour being returned. his room mate, lykon, is endlessly more enthusiastic then he is, mumbling to himself as he fiddles with the camera that was paid with money that probably should’ve gone to rent.

“don’t look so worried nicky,” lykon says, as they step inside the threshold. his best friend flashes him a wide grin which is immediately contradicted by the alarming creak of the floorboard under his foot. “we’ve got holy water and everything else. we’ll just check to see if there are any ghoulies in here, they can’t hurt us.”

“you know i think this is a load of horseshit. i’m more worried about the house collapsing on our heads.”

“don’t be dramatic, dude. it’s in perfectly good shape.”

as they start setting up lights, laying out their sleeping bags for preparation of sleeping the night in this place, nicky is forced to admit there’s a sort of melancholy beauty to the place. it would have been a very nice house, once, not too ostentatious like the other houses they’ve “investigated”, with high ceilings and large windows, and stunning art covering the walls. landscapes, bowls of fruit, studies of fire and light and the night sky. but not a single person. nicky notices the same sprawling signature on all of the art, and steps closer to see if he can make out a name-

“nicky! let’s start recording.”

lykon begins unrolling the backstory of this house and the ghost allegedly haunting it, and nicky interjects throughout, punctuating the otherwise dead serious narrative with bursts of skepticism and humour, the way they’ve always done. lykon’s little ghost hunting channel is small now but getting bigger every day, and nicky can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, verbally sparring with his best friend. lykon’s a believer and nicky isn’t, and while they’ll argue fiercely on camera they agree in pretty much every way off screen. apparently this house used to be home to an artist who’d been slowly making his way up in the art world before being murdered mysteriously. with no convictions, the story went that people were compelled to stay away from the house, wouldn’t be able to write without doodling, and smell fresh paint. also the standard doors opening and closing on their own, lights turning on and off, footsteps and the like. nicky was not exactly enthused to spend a night on the dusty floor, but hey. it beat sitting on the couch watching reruns of the same bland reality tv shows.

nicky’s halfway through a longwinded joke when lykon jolts like he’s been zapped, hand gripping nicky’s forearm, eyes darting around in sudden fear.

“what? dude, let go.” he elbows lykon in the ribs gently to get his attention back. “hello? what happened.”

“swear i heard a laugh, from upstairs, maybe,” he replies, face furrowed in concentration. he flashes a smile at the camera. “alright, i think we got all the background done. lets investigate.”

predictably, they find nothing. well, nothing of worth to nicky, but lykon insists that the room that used to be the studio feels colder then the rest of the house, they hear noises from inside the room once they leave it, and the spirit box spits up a few noises that lykon insists are words. a pretty standard investigation, then. they pack up their stuff and tuck in for the night. lykon spends half of it jumping at every little noise, but eventually drifts off as the exhaustion of the drive here finally gets to him. nicky turns over in his sleeping bag, hoping to salvage at least a few hours of rest from the night, but-

is that paint?

nicky breathes in as hard as he can, and it’s unmistakeable, that scent of chemicals that reminds him very vividly of the disaster that was year seven art class. he sits up, rubs his eyes. lykon doesn’t stir and nicky sniffs again. it’s still clear and strong, and now that his ear isnt pressed against the pillow, he can hear faint clattering, like the lid of a paint tin being wedged off. it’s coming from upstairs, where the artist’s studio would be, if he had to guess.

oh, fuck. 

there’s a perfectly rational explanation for this, he reasons to himself, even as he crawls out of the sleeping bag to cram on some shoes and get a torch and a camera. he should probably wake up lykon, but something inside him is telling him, wait, to just see for himself first. maybe we disturbed the paint when we were in there earlier. an old house like this, it’s probably just settling. hell, there’s probably raccoons in the roof, or something. ghosts aren’t real.

the studio is... not how they had left it. it had been such a sad space, everything covered up in white sheets, shelves of paints covered in dust. now, the room is strangely warm, like the summer sun had spent a few hours streaming in through windows that were now uncovered, the night visible through dusty panes of glasses. there is an easel set up, with an empty, clean canvas about the size of a dinner table on it. and on the floor, a thin, fine paintbrush rocks back and forth, like it had just been dropped.

this was entirely too much weirdness for nicky’s brain to handle, but he wasn’t giving up on his hard line stance on ghosts just yet. strangely enough, he doesn’t really feel afraid at all. 

“if this is a prank,” he says, deliberately loud in the empty room, as he bends to pick up the paintbrush. the tip of it is still wet, and the paint looks black on his fingertips. “if this is a joke, lykon, i swear-”

hi, nicky.

the words appear abruptly on the canvas, a rushed hand like whoever’s writing isn’t sure if they can keep it going. nicky almost drops the paintbrush he’s holding, but steps closer. the paint is still wet on the canvas, and it’s the same dark shade as the stuff on the brush. he shines his torch at it. it’s a very dark blue, not a black like he’d first assumed, the colour of a twilight sea.

“what the fuck,” he mumbles to himself, touching the canvas. it’s just fabric on wood. what the fuck.

did i scare you? i didn’t want to do that. 

"i’m not scared,” he says, feeling oddly giddy. “this is a very strange dream.”

i promise it’s not a dream. tah-dah! ghosts are real. i am one of them.

as whoever it is writes, they doodle around their letters with incredible skill, little birds and flowers and suns circling their words. it’s strangely endearing. the paint smell gets stronger and nicky finds that he does not mind.

“what’s your name?” he asks, remembering that he is technically a ghost investigator and he should probably be doing some investigation. his phone is left forgotten in his pocket, though. he doesn’t know if he should be recording this or not.

joe, joseph, but it’s yusuf, really. the art world of my time was not quite ready for a name like mine, but i suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.

“you’re the artist, then.”

who else would i be? as far as i can tell i am the first, last and only death of this house.

“you were murdered.”

yes, but can we not talk about that? it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

the last full stop of yusuf’s sentence is darker then normal, like he’s pressed harder. nicky touches a finger to the canvas.

“i’m sorry. i won’t bring it up again.”

thank you.

nicky takes a step back, the room is lightening around him. he hadn’t realised it earlier, but the windows of this room all face east, which is why he supposes yusuf chose it to be his studio. on some level, a part of him is wondering why he isn’t screaming and running to get lykon right now. he really isn’t afraid, though. yusuf hasn’t meant him any harm.

“why did you choose to talk to me? we were up here earlier.”

it’s harder when more alive people are in my room. you take up so much energy. the handwriting pauses, like yusuf is considering. and most people are so afraid. i’ve tried talking to others before, but they get so scared. you didn’t seem frightened at all.

“that’s because i didn’t believe in any of this stuff.” nicky presses a finger to yusuf’s words, just to check. his finger comes away dark blue. “part of me still think i’m dreaming, though.”

well, you can’t see reflections in dreams, i’ve heard. there’s a mirror behind you.

nicky turns to see a sheet drop off a large standing mirror in an ornate frame, and sure enough, he can see his face, a pale shape in the darkness of the room. he steps closer, and skids a finger over the glass, leaving a smear of paint behind. not a dream, then.

he feels a gust of air, warm, behind him and he turns. nothing but the canvas. when he turns back, that’s when he sees him.

he’s about the same height and build of nicky, standing just behind him and to the side. handsome, a full beard and a rueful smile and curls, and eyes that are the kindest nicky has ever seen. and the most startling thing- he is opaque. his head and shoulders are more or less solid, but his torso peters out into nothing at all.

“ghosts are real,” he says, to the spectre in the mirror, dumbfounded, and yusuf’s half-smile widens to a proper grin. he does a little wave in the mirror and something in nicky’s chest swells. he smiles back.

“your friend downstairs is waking up.” a breath, barely a whisper in his ear. and sure enough, noises from below. he can almost hear the sound of his name.

“i won’t tell him about you, if you don’t want me to,” he says, and yusuf shrugs, flickering.

“i don’t mind, but i'd rather you not. the more people come in here, the harder it is to... exist.” 

nicky can hear footsteps on the stairs now, and he blurts out, quickly, before this bizarre moment is over, before he is thrust back into the mundane of his normal life. “we’re leaving now. can i come back, sometime?” and the thing is, he really wants to, wants to know this strange, sad ghost with messy handwriting and beautiful art, and kind, kind eyes. he has so many questions. what’s it like, being a ghost? are you lonely in this house? and, why do you not have any paintings of people? yusuf meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles again.

“i’d like that.”

“nicky!” the door opens and nicky blinks, his hands dropping to his sides. lykon sweeps his gaze around the room looks at him with a raised eyebrow. the canvas, nicky is stunned to realise, is now as clean and blank as when he’d walked in.

“c’mon man, you know we’re not allowed to mess with this stuff.” lykon steps forwards and plucks the paintbrush out of his hand, the tip still wet with paint, and sets it on the easel. “you said it yourself, nothing in here now. we’ve gotta get going.”

“sì, of course. i was just... looking around. it’s a beautiful room.”

his room mate just gives him a look. “uh okay. whatever, man. let’s go.”

before nicky leaves, he picks the paintbrush back up again, tucks it into his pocket. says to the empty room, slowly filling with light and colour from the rising sun, “i’ll be back, yusuf, i promise.”

the faint ghost of laughter as he walks out feels, somehow, right.

[goldnratio]

Dating Luke Alvez HC’s

word count: 1.3k

warnings: some are a little risqué but nothing major

a/n: here’s some headcanons for luke! might do some nsfw ones, and for spencer and Hotch but I have to finish some requests first

—

love love LOVES music

michael jackson, david bowie, queen, biggie smalls, etc.

oh what I would I do to see him sing ‘hypnotize’ (I know he drinks his Respecting Women Juice but he always emphasizes on “bulletproof glass tints if I want some ass” with a laugh ‘cause it reminds him of an ‘inside joke’ you two share aka the time you two fucked in one of the bureau’s SUVs during a boring stakeout but that’s a story for another time)

ALSO SPANISH MUSIC DUH

our puerto rican + cuban king loves daddy yankee, calle 13, nicky jam, bad bunny, marc anthony, juanes, hombres G!!!

does Not Care if you can’t speak/understand Spanish, he’s got you dancing with him either way

GOING CRAZY TO ‘gasolina’ AND ‘yo perreo sola’ AND ‘safaera’

this mere idea of dancing to reggaeton with luke,,, im lightheaded

all you feel is his hands’ tight grip on your hips and the feeling of your ass pressing against him has him groaning and im gonna pass out if I keep thinking about it

not even gonna talk about dancing with him to cumbia bc y’all would never hear the end of it

anyways you got him airpods for christmas because you were sick of hearing him complain about always having to detangle his wires; he wears them almost 24/7 and likes that he can share one with you and not have to worry about the wires

he has playlists for EVERYTHING

big cuddle monster

luke is naturally a Big Spoon, have you SEEN HIS ARMS AND BODY? so Wide and perfecting for holding you

loves to hold you in his sleep, you’re like an anchor for him when he gets nightmares from cases

the bau team has several pictures of you two asleep on the jet; some of your head on luke’s chest with one of his arms around you and others with your limbs so tangled together that they can’t tell where luke ends and you begin

prefers Real Cuddles at home though because both of you are handsy and innocent cuddles have turned into sex more times than you can count

but sometimes after a bad case he just wants to be held with your fingers running through his hair. you’re in bed and he tightly wraps his arms around your waist, resting his upper body on yours with his head on your chest or face buried in your neck.

He’s a very protective man

and not like in an overbearing way

it’s just that you both have seen and know firsthand how sick and dangerous the world can be sometimes and he never wants it to touch you

almost always has a hand on you; whether it’s holding hands, or an arm over your shoulders, or a hand on your waist, or—

alternatively, your hands always wind up in his back pocket or holding onto his GIANT biceps

usually in lines he stands behind you with his arms wrapped around you and resting his chin on the top of your head, or you’re next to him and holding his arm with your head resting on his shoulder

sometimes you go on runs together with Roxy

and sometimes you go run by yourself, and Luke always suggests taking Roxy with you

not because he thinks you’re incapable of taking care of yourself without him but he doesn’t want to take the risk of something happening to you when he’s not there

also because “she could go for a run, burn some of that energy, right, Roxy?”

ALSO EXTRA PROTECTIVE IN THE FIELD!!!!

He knows the danger is part of the job but he just hates the idea of something happening to you

He will try to talk you out of something too dangerous but won’t tell you that you can’t go (even though he REALLY WANTS TO) because as much as he loves and cares for you, he knows you’re a great agent and are capable of taking care of yourself out in the field

I suppose it also depends on the case and the unsub? ‘cause like if you fit the unsub’s victimology then he’s more,,,cautious about it

Luke always tries to put himself in between you and the potential danger, which is funny because you try to do the same thing

[insert that meme/comic of the two people bending to protect each other]

does a mix of the ‘get behind me’ and ‘mom arm reflex for an abrupt stop’ so he can protect you from anything ahead and you have his back with a view of anything behind you guys

literally will take a bullet for you if it comes to it and he knows without a doubt that you would do the same

BACK TO ROXY!!! that adorable german shepard

HIS ENTIRE CAMERA ROLL IS JUST YOU, HIM, AND ROXY

but mostly you and Roxy

with the occasional bau team pics

but when Luke first introduced you to her the first time you came over to his house

it went...ok?

roxy—like luke—has seen Some Serious Shit

even being a friendly dog, I think it’d be natural for her to be cautious with new people

so when her daddy is bringing the same woman home she is like oH??

she was a little shy and kept her distance, staying close to luke the first few times you went over

eventually she got used to you coming around more often, sitting closer to you and letting you pet her more

you swear luke’s eyes were glossy the first time Roxy curled up next to you and laid her head on your lap

“no, (Y/N), I’m not about to cry it’s just that I have…dust...in my eyes…”

he’s melting on the inside though because you’re both his Best Girls Who He Loves Very Much!!!!!

he also trusts you enough to watch Roxy if he’s away and loves that Roxy trusts you too

sometimes he stays at the BAU later and comes home to you asleep on the couch with Roxy right by your side, or you’re in bed with Roxy right by the entrance of the room

either way it makes him Soft™️ that Roxy is also just as protective of you

“what’s up, baby? you taking care of mommy for me, being a good guard dog for (y/n)?”

with both of you working at the BAU, you are literally the Hottest Couple Most Sleep Deprived Couple

you sleep at the hotels when you’re on a case but let’s be real: sometimes the case is too fresh in your mind to let you sleep, same goes for Luke

you guys find that just talking about it helps

sex works too, but there’s only two moods after: I’m so tired now thank you and I love you, goodnight OR I now have more energy than I did when we got in bed can we please go another round

NAP DATES ARE SO FREQUENT

like you will just go over to cuddle him and sleep

you stay over a lot more than luke stays at your place and it’s mostly because taking Roxy back and forth gets difficult, especially if your place is like less equipped for pets

ANYWAYS

as sleep deprived as you two are, you can’t sleep in late

You’re both used to waking up early and at ungodly times because of work, plus Luke takes Roxy outside in the mornings to potty so you usually get up to make him coffee

so your bodies aren’t exactly programmed to want to sleep in, but there are rare times when you’ll sleep in till like 11am (Luke has potty pads in place for Roxy just in case)

but since you guys tend to wake up early on your days off, you spend the mornings in bed and just nap throughout the day

finally, having lots of pet names for each other!!!!!

his for you include but are not limited to:

mamas

baby

sweet thang

mi amor

pretty lady

princesa

yours for him include but are not limited to:

babe

big guy

sweet cheeks

papacito

cariño

papi chulo (he ALWAYS blushes with this one but he tries to cover it up with a smirk)