#because of course i did. i must draw my husband

[sunshine-biter]

I can keep him in my wallet now

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

🔥unpopular charles opinion

The thing is, it’s not an opinion, really. The question isn’t meant to be a complaint or a rebuttal or anything. I just genuinely don’t get it! The question goes something like this.

So Charles/Klinger seems to be the one actively disliked ship in the fandom, discounting the h*nn*hawk vs p*erc*ntyre gang war and that one rabidly anti-hawnk person (lol). Most nobody has any love for the ship, because it’s stupid and OOC, of course, but mostly because it’s egregiously obviously racist and gross, which is the critique that seems most common, and to be of most importance to people.

And to be clear, for the purposes of this post I am wholly agreeing with all that! It’s distasteful and immoral and people who are into it are insane, including me. I’m not arguing against this line of thinking, I just wanted to look at its inner logic. Because when I first heard people saying this, I thought, “Yeah, makes sense, Charles is truthfully a terrible person with abhorrent opinions. Nobody watching this already unfortunately bigotry-riddled show is obligated to try and look past that! It is Always valid to hate Charles’ guts.”

But it turns out most of the fandom (I assume it must be most, given how shockingly few people here have blocked me) actually don’t hate Charles, in general. It’s the specific ship, not the character, that’s distasteful. (Not to say any Charles ship is anything resembling popular, but like with most ships, that’s just a result of the general population’s Hawkeye BJ Laser Focus Gaze. I’ve never seen anybody actively dislike these ships when they’re brought up.) And the more I think about it, the more I wonder why, because well. to put it bluntly. It’s not like someone stops being racist when they’re not actively interacting with a nonwhite person.

You know what I mean? I feel like Charles’ bigotry would be a turn off for all of our generally morally sound protagonists, not just one who happens to be personally affected by it. But it only becomes an issue when it involves Klinger. I’ve heard people say that any Charles/Klinger ship fic would obviously have to go out of its way to address Charles’ racism, but I’ve read a few Charles/Hawkeye and Charles/Donna (and Charles / other strange and varied choices too, because of course I have) fics–really, REALLY good fics, that captured the characters very nicely and are very beautifully written–and I’ve yet to find one that discusses The Bigotry In The Room with any degree of seriousness.

(Pssst this is everyone’s chance to absolutely dunk on me by sending me fics that do this if there actually are a bunch and I’ve just never read them because I would in fact LOVE to read some fics with that topic regardless of ship!)

And to be clear, that’s fine with me! I truly do not care. When I read Charles running away to Maine or romancing Ms. Parker and I don’t see his love interests stop to ask “Hey, um, so any updates on the fact that you and your whole family are eugenicists?”, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest, because I just assume that Charles has already gone through the cult deprogramming step of his character development at some point prior to this, and either the love interest in question has already confirmed this off-page, or they are making the same assumption I am. After all, at least in Hawkeye’s case, the mere act of admitting romantic interest in a Democrat from the back of beyond would necessarily imply a shift in values, right?

(Admittedly, for all we canonically know Donna could be a fashy scumlord herself, so this reasoning doesn’t wholly apply there, but it obviously does to her fanon background/personality.) (Which is adorable, by the way. Everyone go check out the collective oeuvre of AO3 user onekisstotakewithme.)

So that’s all cool! It’s just that the same thing applies for me when it comes to Charles/Klinger. If anything, it applies even more, because you can have a fic where Charles’ whole family attend his and Donna’s 2nd wedding (Everyone go check out the collective oeuvre of AO3 user onekisstotakewithme!!!) but if Charles gets with Maxwell in any capacity, his father is at the very LEAST never going to speak to him again, ever. And personally I think that is SO fun and sexy, because Charles’ father is a white supremacist and I want him to die painfully forever and ever amen. <3

I got sidetracked a few times here and I just realized I never actually asked the question, which is, TL;DR: If it’s immoral–or at least gross and nonsensical–to ship Charles/Klinger, because Charles is bigoted, shouldn’t the same also apply to shipping Charles with many other characters too, given that they should logically also have a problem with his bigotry?

For what it’s worth, I have a bit of a theory about the answer to this, all to do with the incompetent way Charles’ bigotry (and other characters’ reactions to it) are portrayed in canon and the deeper Doylist factors that I think forced the showrunners into writing it like that, but I wanted to stay strictly on the topic of fandom attitudes for now, because it may be niche and silly, but I find it interesting. And I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on it!

[lowtaperfeyd]

Hi 🥰 can i request scenario where reader is paul’s sister and feyd’s wife who is all about honor and one day after feyd’s fight she tells him that he’s not all that because he doesn’t fight fare and is coward 😏

Rats Vs. Mice

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

author's note: Feyd is so fine. That's all.

warnings: death, blood, house harkonnen, knives.

wc: 940

(Y/N) Atreides’ father, the Duke Leto Atreides, had a saying, “Respect for truth is the basis for all morality. Something cannot emerge from nothing.” This has always been something both him and his daughter lived by. Because there is no honor in a man who isn’t truthful. Most of the time she didn’t think of this saying often, since she had been surrounded by truthful men. But when she married Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen she realized just how much the Harkonnens lie. She realized the truth did also die with her father. 

“Does he always fight this way?’ She interrogated her uncle-in-law as they were watching Feyd fight in the black and white light of the Harkonnen homeworld’s sun. 

“Yes of course he does!” He quickly responded, feeling a little offended because of the criticism of his heir from his own wife, “What other way is he supposed to?!”  

“I didn't mean to offend, my Baron,” she replied, realizing it was a bad idea to bad mouth Feyd in front of his uncle, “I’m sorry.”  

“Silly girl,” the only thing that came out of the baron’s mouth after that was, “That boy killed his own mother.” (Y/N) continued to watch Feyd fight. 

The way his arm moved through the air in a teasing motion. Like a cat drawing out the death of a mouse. It was complete cowardice disguised by an overconfident nature from many fights against drugged opponents. Drugged opponents who may just stand a chance against Feyd-Rautha. Of course, she did not think he was a bad fighter, just that he was a big baby. 

The fight, of course, ended with all of Feyd’s opponents on the ground lying still and Feyd’s knife rising to the air to show the blood of his kills. Pathetic from a man who won’t even fight a sober man, (Y/N) thought.

As Feyd went back through the tunnel he came out of, (Y/N) turned toward the baron and asked him,

“Would Feyd ever fight against a man who wasn’t drugged?” 

“Why do you ask this?” The baron asked suspiciously. 

“I mean, isn't his birthday coming up? A good present for him would be fighting someone of equal machinery in a sense. You also need to test whether or not he would be good for Arrakis. I know you aren’t happy with Rabban.” 

The baron just mumbled incoherently. 

“Anyway, I must leave,” She said as she got up, “I have to see my husband.” 

(Y/N) began walking through the tall halls of the fortress. Passing grotesque portraits and seeing the black and white fireworks coming from outside of the castle. The fireworks in celebration of Feyd’s victory. Even though it was dark inside the castle the fireworks did light it just enough to where you did not need a glow globe to transverse through the corridors. The air got more frigid as she continued to walk deeper and deeper to her husband’s room. Like walking into the belly of the beast. She got to her husband’s bedroom door and saw two guards outside of it. 

“You can leave” (Y/N) said to the guards. 

The guards just looked at her and nodded. Afraid of what she would or her husband would do if they didn’t listen. 

(Y/N) opened the huge door to see her husband sitting hunched over on his bed. His feet firmly planted on the ground. His knife, still bloody, in his hands. 

“I watched you fight today.” She said cooly to him. 

“I know,” He said equally, “I saw you from the ground” 

“Well congratulations-” She tried to get out before being interrupted by Feyd, 

“What were you talking about with my uncle?” He bit out in a mix of anger and annoyance.

“I don’t know what youre talking about.” (Y/N) deflected. 

“Don’t play coy!” He shouted and moved to stand menacingly in front of his wife, “I saw you two talking and then looking back at me. What was it!”   

“You would be right, Feyd,” She responded, standing her ground, “We were talking about you.” 

(Y/N) declared, “How much of a coward you are,” After saying this she could see the anger lighting up in the cold, black eyes of Feyd-Rautha, “How his youngest nephew only fought people who weren’t able to beat him. And how pathetic it is.” She spat at him.  

“And would you know something, he actually agreed with me.” (Y/N) lied through her teeth, hoping that Feyd would not go and ask his uncle about it later, 

“He agreed that it would be more entertaining if you actually fought people who stab you as easily as you stab them. Have a form of equal bloodshed.” 

Even though his wife was still berating him, Feyd continued to look at his wife, the woman who was not afraid to question him or go against when it came down to speaking, and thought about how pretty she would be with her head on a spike. Red lipstick smeared on her lips and hair all messed up from the blade going across her throat. 

“And do you want to know the worst thing about you Feyd,” (Y/N) continued to push his buttons, “any honor you have earned is false. The only animal one could compare you to is a lazy, house cat; who can only find entertainment in tiny mice, and can’t defeat the rats which actually pose a threat.” 

“You lost all your honor the day you killed your mother.”

"What makes you think you know anything about honor? " Feyd retorted, "Your family is dead and mine is thriving."

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a person in possession of a good blorbo must be in want of art of that blorbo. And on this front, I have suffered because there is really no Háma art out there despite the fact that he’s rad. (I won’t bore you all again with all of the reasons why he’s the best, but you can find that here.) So I asked @rinthecap to draw me a lovely and handsome Háma, and they delivered in the best possible way!!! Here’s my guy, with a lot on his mind as he watches his king slowly lose his grip on reality, but always at the ready to jump into the fray and help.

I love ALL of Rincap’s art, which you should definitely all go check out if you haven’t, and am extremely grateful for this beautiful and necessary contribution to a world that was severely lacking in Háma representation! ♥️♥️♥️ His face, his armor, his hair, it’s all aces!

And here, for good measure, is my Háma headcanon:

His father was the royal armorer in Edoras, and his mother worked alongside him; he did the metal work, and she handled leather. Little Háma grew up around their workshop, playing quietly in the back or listening to his mother tell stories while she stitched together vambraces or gloves. As he got older, he helped his parents with simple tasks, like linking rings for chainmail. When a mailcoat he worked on saved Théoden from a Dunlendish arrow and the king himself came by to thank young Háma, he nearly burst with pride. He knew right then that he wanted to dedicate his life to protecting the king and made it his goal to be captain of his guard someday.

Háma’s father was severely injured in a workshop accident not long after, and everyone marveled at how quickly he apparently recovered and was able to keep turning out work. What they didn’t know is that Háma’s mother took over most of the business, having learned metal crafting over the many years of work alongside her husband. They didn’t tell anyone who was actually making the pieces because they weren’t sure anyone would wear armor made entirely by a woman, but Háma knew, of course, and it filled him with both pride and frustration to hear people heap praise on his mother’s work while attributing it all to his father.

While he was working his way up through the ranks of the guards, Háma met and fell in love with Bryttalif, a midwife in Edoras. Brytta was herself pregnant and unmarried when they met, so she was viewed as a little scandalous. But they hit it off right away and he really didn’t care about town gossip or what other people had to say because she was just the sort of kind and gentle-hearted person that he was. The scandal was eventually forgotten because Háma and Brytta got married, which gave the whole situation a sheen of acceptability. He adopted her daughter Halwinë as his own and was absolutely crazy about her–Middle Earth’s truest Girl Dad. Brytta was pregnant with their second child when Háma was killed at Helm’s Deep. It was a boy she named Wilspell (“welcome news”).

Háma’s sword was recovered from outside the gate of the Hornburg after his death and was thereafter always used by the captain of the king’s guard, being transferred from person to person as part of a little ceremony whenever a new captain was appointed.

He was buried in armor his mother made.

[ohtobeleah]

Dream A Little, Dream Of Me // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: How are you supposed to sleep when all you see when you close your eyes is your dead and soaking wet husband?

Warnings: Mentions of Insomnia. Insomniac!reader. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Death. Mentions of loss. Platonic Jake Seresin.

Word Count: 1.7k

Author Note: Day Two of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Insomnia. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Aviators can’t be lazy, the risks are just too great. The second they stop pushing themselves, the second they stop focusing, something terrible always happens. Something that you never see coming always happens and it shakes you to your very core. 

Like losing the love of your life. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” You could hear Jake murmur at you from across your bedroom. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest assessing the mess that was your bedroom. The bedroom up until three weeks prior you shared with your husband, Rooster. “Y/n?” Jake tried to grab your attention yet again but all you did was continue to look out the window—watching as the rain fell outside in the depth of the night. Illuminated by the solar lights that you and Rooster had hung for the fall season. Halloween pumpkins were strewn across the awning, in all honesty they’d probably stay there till after Christmas. You couldn’t find it in yourselves to take them down now. 

Bradley always did enjoy the days when it rained. When he was a kid he hated rainy days. But the more he grew up, moved into adulthood, excelled in his career and fell in love with you, he enjoyed the rain a little bit more and more. All because he got the day off to spend with you. His wife. The absolute love of his life. It had been your first rainy day without him. 

“That’s it, I’m taking you to see a doctor.” Jake sighed in defeat as he made his way across the room towards where you sat with your knees pulled up to your chest and your cheek resting on your knee. “Rooster wouldn’t want you to waste away at his expense.” 

You knew why Jake was doing this, why he was being overbearing and fiercely protective of your mental stability. He’d promised Bradley, your Bradley, that he’d take care of you. Whatever he had to do. It was a locker room promise—the type of promise you make when your almost certain someone isn’t coming back. 

“If anything happens to me, take care of my girl Hangman.” Jake could still hear Rooster's voice ringing in his mind like a bell that had been dinged in silence. “Don’t leave her hanging, look after her for me.” But Jake Seresin was only one man who could only do so much for a woman who didn’t want to be helped. 

And that locker room promise was made years before Rooster ever suspected a thing. 

“Hey, come on Y/n, look at me?” Jake begged as he sat down beside you. “Please?” When you crained your neck the other way to face where Jake sat, he sent you a soft smile that you barely recognised as his own. “You’re not taking care of yourself, and unfortunately for you that’s not an option you have.” 

“My husbands dead.” Your voice was rash, like you hadn’t spoken in days. You didn’t do an awful lot these days. “Every time I close my eyes I see him—“ Jake didn’t speak, all he did was listen as he reached out to draw you closer into his chest as he let his back rest against the headboard. “He’s dead and everytime I close my eyes I see nothing but him.” 

Jake couldn’t begin to imagine what you must have been going through, Rooster was his best friend, his wingman—and his heart hurt every damn day he wasn’t around. So to even begin to understand the magnitude of your grief was something Jake knew he’d never be able to understand. 

But then you told Jake the truth—the truth about why you wouldn’t sleep. Why you wouldn’t close your eyes and allow yourself a little reprieve. To see the man you missed so much and his blood ran cold. It felt like shards of ice were coursing through his veins and in that moment Jake didn’t know how to respond. 

“He keeps telling me that he’s cold.” Exhaustion laced your words as you let yourself rest in Jake's warm embrace. “That he’s so cold and can’t get warm.” Jake was there, he remembered the accident all too well. “Everytime I see him he’s soaking wet Jake and everytime I wake up I swear the floor where he was just standing is still damp.” 

It didn’t matter what time of day it was or if it was the middle of the night—if you let your eyes close for even a second, all you saw was him. Your husband, begging you to join him. 

“It’s just your grief Y/n.” Jake tried to console you the best he could. “Your mind is playing cruel tricks on you because of how tired you are.” You knew it was the truth. “You need to rest, you can’t avoid sleep for this long without being affected.” Jake held you close, he had every intention of making sure you were okay after Bradley's death. He’d promised to take care of you. “It’s not healthy, if not for yourself you gotta sleep for Rooster—he wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.” 

“He keeps asking me to join him.” Jake's heart stopped inside his chest because as much as the fact you weren’t sleeping was a problem, that—that one sentence alone was cause for concern. “He begs me to, says that he needs me.” Your whimpers hummed against Jake's chest as he kissed the top of your head and inhaled the scent of your shampoo. 

God of all the people this had to happen to why on god's green earth did it have to be you? Why did it have to be you that lost the love of your life, and why was Jake now slowly losing his. 

“And the worst part is that I’m not strong enough to say I can’t.” 

“I think it’s time that you talk to someone, someone who can help you through this.” The first thing Jake was going to do once he’d gotten you to sleep was to call Phoenix for the name of the doctor she saw back in June. You needed to see someone. “But for now? I’m gonna stay right here, and you’re gonna close your eyes—because you need to sleep Y/n.” 

“I miss my husband.” Again you ignored the pleading tone in Jake's voice that seemed to be the only reason he spoke these days. “So much it hurts.” 

“I miss him too.” Jake cooed as he held you tight, held you close, held your head against his chest and cried with you. He let you curl into his side and tug at his shirt as you screamed and cried out your husband's name until you swore your throat was raw. “And he loved you so much—“ Jake gently stroked your hair as he felt you settling into him. “He loved everything there is to possibly love you about you.” 

There are times in everyone’s lives when love really does conquer all. Exhaustion, sleep deprivation, insomnia. Anything. And then there are those times when it seems like love brings nothing but pain.

“I don’t know how to do any of this without him.” Your words were a little less strained as you settled into Jake's warm embrace. “I don’t know how to live a life after him, Hangman.” 

“How about we try and take it day by day? Together, we’ll try to figure out a way to get through, together—because I promised Rooster that I’d take care of you and I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” Jake didn’t press when you didn’t answer, but he knew by the staggered length of your small barely noticeable whimpers that you were losing the battle against your will to stay awake. 

“You go to sleep, go see your husband and I will be right here when you wake up okay?” Jake cooed as he continued to stroke your hair behind your ear. “Tell him off for me, for getting distracted, for letting—“ Jake held his tongue, he was about to tell you, to tell Bradley, he shouldn’t have been so distracted up there. 

But then again, Rooster was the one who confronted Jake in the first place. It was Rooster who shoved him in the hallway of the carrier they were doing over water training on. Rooster was the one who accused Jake of being in love with his wife. 

And Jake was the one who’d told him that yes, yes he was. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Jake woke with a gasp when he realised he’d fallen asleep with you in Bradley’s bed. He should have known better than to get himself into this situation, but he’d promised—he’d always promise Rooster that he’d take care of you if anything happened. 

He just never thought that day would come, and that it would technically be his fault too. 

But the more Jake came to he realised he was alone. Alone in your bedroom that up until three weeks ago you shared with your husband. 

“Y/n?” Jake frowned as he looked around and sat up. Surely you hadn’t gone too far, surely he hadn’t been asleep for more than an hour. “Y/n?” Again Jake frowned as he swung his legs over the edge of the side of the bed his best friend used to sleep on. 

When Jake's feet hit the carpet his entire body turned to stone as his bare feet felt the water that had seeped into the carpet. Cold, icy water that took the breath right out of his lungs. 

“I took her with me so you couldn’t ever have her.” Bradley’s voice made Jake jump almost into the stratosphere. He was standing right there at the edge of the bed with you asleep in his sopping wet arms. “You won’t ever get her, won’t ever know what it’s like to be loved by her—“ 

It was the shouting that filled the bedroom that woke Jake up, his own shouting as he wrapped you tighter in his arms before you had a chance to jolt awake out of his embrace. He’d fallen asleep—only for what felt like a few minutes. He hadn’t been sleeping well either, but now that he’d seen what you were experiencing? What had been keeping you awake, he understood. For all the wrong reasons. 

“You saw him too.” You mumbled against Jake as your eyes remained wide and awake, watching as the water pooled in the carpet beside your bed. 

“Didn’t you?” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 9

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Brief mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy symptoms

A/N: Not quite as long as previous chapters but I digress.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

You heard voices surrounding you, some loud and urgent while others almost whispered. You knew them, that was for certain but the stygian fog shrouding your consciousness forbade you from seeking information you knew you had. You were too tired to care, never even opening your eyes before you once again surrendered to oblivion. 

The second time you became aware, it was quick. Your eyes opened, a reflex to the fear that immediately took hold and had you trying to sit up. You didn’t get far. You were so weak; your arms refused to hold your weight. When you collapsed back onto the soft pillow, something in your right arm pinched. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it did draw your attention to the tubing running from the crook of your elbow up to a clear bag hanging from the bedpost. 

“You’re awake.”

Your head rolled to the left, wide eyes meeting the soft gaze of an older gentleman. The first thing you noticed was that he was so clean, dressed in a nice button-up and black trousers. His white hair was neatly combed and clearly cared after. Your confusion must have been distinctly written across your face because he went on with providing a little more detail. 

“My name is Hershel. You were brought here in quite the state, young lady. You were severely dehydrated. Quite honestly, I still fear that there may be some damage to your kidneys but we will just need to wait and see.”

You were still so tired. “Where the hell am I?” The man—- Hershel —-pinned you with a chastising stare but it disappeared just as quickly. 

“You’re in my home.”

You didn’t acknowledge the reply, adjusting your gaze to the ceiling. You didn’t remember much aside from the pain. 

And Daryl. 

Those eyes—blue like a mountain lake—had been brimming with concern; and then determination. He had brought you there. You knew he had to be terrified for—

“The baby!” You suddenly gasped, palms pressed hard over your stomach. “Is my baby okay?!”

Hershel was already holding up his hands in a placating gesture, nodding slowly. “I’m aware. Your husband filled me in on everything. Quite crudely, I might add.” 

You snorted weakly. “He’s not my husband.” 

Hershel’s gaze wandered over to the far side of the room, a low, steady hum emitting from behind closed lips. “I see. Well, in any case, I happen to have a POCUS machine here for use on the springing heifers. Now, I’m no medical doctor, but I was able to locate the fetus and a strong heartbeat. Your baby seems to be healthy, though I can make no guarantees.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, fingertips absently brushing back and forth over your abdomen. “You said you’re not a medical doctor.”

“That’s correct.”

You pulled a face, willing your tired brain to fill in the blanks before Hershel could simply tell you. A lightbulb sparked to life. “You’re a vet.”

“I am.” He moved around the bed, carefully eyeing the tubing connected to your arm and then the bag. He seemed concerned but said nothing. “You need to rest. We’re going to try to get some bland food in you along with some water. Of course, I’ve never had to treat hyperemesis gravidarum but I have medical journals that will help.”

You raised your head slightly, an inquisitive eyebrow arched. “Hyper who the what?”

He chuckled, making his way toward the door. “That’s exactly what your—whatever your relationship is. Anyway, that’s exactly what he said.” He motioned toward the far corner of the room, where his gaze had ventured moments before. Curiosity got the better of you and you forced yourself up, one arm at a time to rest on your elbows. Your arms trembled with the effort. It didn't matter because you were too overwhelmed by the warm feeling stirring in your chest. 

Daryl was slumped in a chair, chin on his chest, and fast asleep. 

“He hasn’t left this room.” The veterinarian offered, turning toward the door. “The condition is severe nausea and vomiting. From my reading, it’s hard to control even with medication. You’ll likely need fluids periodically throughout your pregnancy. We’ll discuss this more once you’ve regained some strength. For now, rest, sips of water, and small, bland meals.”

Your stomach churned at just the thought. “I’ll just throw it all up.”

He nodded in agreement, but didn’t seem pessimistic. “I’ve discussed this with him,” Hershel tilted his head toward the sleeping hunter. “My daughter has a list and will be leaving tomorrow morning to gather what we need. The Korean boy will be accompanying her.” He nodded and stepped over the threshold before you called out. 

“Is Carl okay?”

“He’s not completely out of the woods but I expect he’ll make a full recovery.” 

That made you smile. At least one of the children would be okay. With the information you were just given, you still worried for your own baby. “Thank you, Hershel.”

With a tight smile, he nodded and closed the door. 

You laid back and let everything digest. You were going to have 7 months or so of what sounded like pure hell. You’d need access to constant medication. And the man couldn’t even guarantee that the baby in your belly was indeed healthy. If ever you felt like a burden to the group, it was at that moment. 

Would they even allow you to stay?

You placed both hands on your belly and rubbed in soft circles. “You’ve decided to start giving me hell early, huh, little thumper?”

“Lil’ thumper?” 

You raised your head as far as you could, finding Daryl sitting on the edge of the chair with his elbows on his knees while he wiped the sleep from his eyes. He looked exhausted despite having just been asleep. 

He hasn’t left this room. 

“Hey.” Your smile was feeble at best. Your body felt heavy and it ached, but the cramping had mercifully stopped. The hunter gave a slight nod to greet you just before he stood to stretch, his joints protesting. “How long have I been here?”

“Just over a day.” Your eyes tracked him crossing the room. When he was close enough, he snatched up the unused pillow. Leaning forward with one knee on the mattress, he slid a hand under the back of your head to assist you with sitting up. The second pillow was placed behind you and left you at least elevated enough to hold a conversation in relative comfort. 

Your eyes downcast, you muttered a quiet thank you. Daryl simply nodded, shifting from foot to foot in a nervous cadence, likely unsure of what to do. 

He suddenly cleared his throat. “Think ya can drink some water?” 

Until that moment, you hadn’t paid any mind to how dry your mouth was. “Yeah. Yeah, I can try.” 

The archer nodded, bringing his thumb to his mouth to chew on the side all the way around the bed where a glass of water was sitting on a bedside table. He removed the digit from his mouth in favor of fetching the drink. 

Daryl held it out to you, eyeing your trembling hand lifting to accept it. “Wait.” He settled his hip on the edge of the mattress and brought the glass to your lips. “You’re gonna spill it if ya try by yourself.” With an aggrieved whine, you parted your lips so he could tip the glass. When he tried to take it away after a mere two sips, you brought your hand up to hold it in place, yearning for just a little more. “Nuh uh. Can’t have too much. Tryin’ ta keep it all on the inside.” 

Bottom lip jutted out, you decided you weren’t beyond begging—until you realized your hand was covering his on the glass. Your need was promptly forgotten. You watched Daryl’s gaze follow your appendage but he placed the glass back on the table without commenting.

Probably for the best. 

He didn’t remain on the bed long after that. Rubbing his palms over his thighs, he stood and walked over to the window, pushing the curtain aside.  

“Did you, uh, get to see it?” You asked, needlessly smoothing the blankets over your lap. Daryl looked at you questioningly. “The baby. Did you get to see?”

“Mhm.” He looked back out the window. “Didn’t really know what I’s s’posed ta be looking at. There was this lil’—” he made a gesture with his hand that you weren’t sure how to interpret, “I dunno, like a flashing. He said it was the heartbeat.”

You hummed and brushed your fingers over your belly again. “Wish I could’ve seen it.”

“Mhm.” He nodded but kept his eyes on whatever he was watching outside, if there really was anything there at all. There was a sudden discontent in the air; the same thick tension you had felt in the truck that first day after he found you. 

“He said you stayed the whole time.”

“Course I did.” His voice had lowered to a point where you were surprised you could hear him. “S’my kid in there. Needed to make sure ev’rything was okay. We don’t know these people.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. You had been telling yourself all along that the baby was all Daryl cared about. He’d almost made that perfectly clear, until the forest. Something in his eyes had shifted, and the way he spoke to you. He had been so coarse up until you admitted that you had been wrong. Then his touches were gentle, his voice even more so. 

But now, you wondered if maybe you had imagined it. You chewed on your lip, glancing up at him every few seconds. It might finally be the right time. You had no doubt that he would stop you if it wasn’t. 

“I’m really sorry, Daryl.” You willed him to look at you; it was imperative that he actually witnessed your sincerity. You had never meant to hurt him. 

“‘Bout what?” He asked, just before he obliged your unspoken request. He started to turn back to the window but it appeared he thought better of it and held your gaze. 

“I only knew for less than a day.” You waited to be dismissed; for him to snap at you and stomp out of the room. 

He did neither. 

You slowly repositioned yourself, suddenly uncomfortable under his stare. He was giving you his attention; finally hearing what you had to say, only for you to be terrified to continue. 

“I, um—I found out from the blood test. I went to see Jenner after supper. I came to tell you that night but—I got scared and then you kissed me and I—” you lowered your head, the stark white sheet suddenly very interesting. “I’m just sorry. I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did. I should have told you.”

The silence carried on, suffocating and loud. You were certain he could hear the intensity of your thundering heart from across the room. A tear tickled your skin as it cascaded down your cheek, almost conjuring a laugh when you realized you were hydrated enough to actually cry. 

“S’okay.” Your wet, shining eyes locked on him immediately. He was looking out the window again, but somehow looked calmer. That tenseness in his stance had softened. “I shouldn’a been such a asshole.”

You gave a wet laugh, the acceptance of your apology having more of an effect on you than you could have imagined. Naturally, Daryl was looking at you with an inquisitive brow arched. “I’m not laughing at you.” You assured him with a useless gesture, waving your hands. “Hormones, I guess?”

There was a very slow nod that meant I have no idea what that means but I’ll take your word for it. He watched you nervously until the waterworks dried up, seemingly afraid to approach while you were having your moment. You were still sniffling when he sat down on the edge of the mattress again and grabbed the water glass. “A lil’ more an’ I’ll go down to see what we can do ‘bout some food for ya.”

And right on cue, your stomach rumbled while your cheeks reddened. 

Hershel had discovered some Odansetron in his supplies and was able to work out a safe dose for you with the help of the medical journals. It had made you a little drowsy but not so much so that you didn’t laugh and smile broadly when the waves of nausea all but ceased for the first time in days! 

Daryl brought you one scrambled egg and half a piece of toast with no butter. He was forced to snatch away your fork when you almost crammed the entirety of the egg in your mouth in one bite. 

“Slow down. Ain’t nobody gonna take it from ya. Jesus.” He handed the utensil back after you promised to take your time. It was difficult but you managed to keep that promise. 

Now you were curled up under the sheets, eyes heavy and stomach full. You felt better than you had since first arriving into the small group. Sleepy, but better. The fluids would continue at least throughout the night, Hershel had said. He would give you another injection of the antiemetic when it was time, just to keep your symptoms under control until his daughter could hopefully find some in tablet form. 

The room was near silent, which didn’t bother you now that Daryl had heard your apology and accepted it. He may only be worrying about his baby but he at least wasn’t angry with you anymore. You still had a lot to talk about but it was more related to planning for childbirth and parenting during an apocalypse. So, for now, you melted into the bed and closed your eyes. 

Daryl yawned from the chair in the corner. Your eyes were quick to open. The hunter had protected you, had been protecting you from the moment he carried you out of the woods. How cruel was it for you, pregnant or not, to be in a nice, cozy bed while he was slumped in a very uncomfortable-looking chair. 

“Hey, Daryl?” You didn’t move from the comfortable position you had found but you were able to call out loud enough for him to hear. He grunted in reply, which you wanted to chuckle at for whatever reason. “Can you come over here for a sec?” 

There was a sigh before you heard the chair slightly shift when he rose from it. He actually approached the side your back was turned toward, probably assuming you wanted the water glass. You were able to roll onto your other side, careful of the IV. You were definitely improving. That movement alone would have been impossible when you had first awakened. 

Daryl actually looked tired. Worry and near sleepless nights had that effect, you supposed. His hand wrapped around the glass but you extended yours before he could pick it up. 

“Thank you, but that’s not what I needed.” You smiled gently. 

“What is it then? Gettin’ up early to look for the girl. Need to get some sleep.”

You were careful about scooting backwards, maneuvering the tubing so it was against the headboard and not across the mattress. Situated comfortably, you lifted the blankets on the other side. 

“Get in.”

He arched a brow, the question of are you serious needn’t have been spoken aloud. 

“Ugh, always thinking with your dick.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled lightly. “No, I just want you to sleep here. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Now his brow drew inward, skeptically. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m not sure I could even have sex right now—” 

“Not that.” He snorted and shook his head. “Why d’ya want me to sleep there?”

Did he just assume you didn’t want him near you because of everything? He never questioned any time you had wanted him buried inside you but looked honestly confused that you’d want him near you otherwise. “Because you need to rest too. It’s been crazy out there. But we’re safe right now—”

“Ain’t never safe.”

“Thanks, captain optimistic.” You deadpanned, releasing the sheets be keeping your hand splayed out on the mattress. “Seriously, whether or not it’s safe out there doesn’t matter. You make me feel safe. And I’d really like it if you’d sleep here.” When he didn’t answer immediately, you added a quiet please that seemed to break his resolve. 

"You’re ridiculous.” You were sure that was just the Daryl method of diffusing a situation that had become too uncomfortable for him to handle. Regardless, he sat down and began taking off his boots. You gave up the second pillow and snuggled back into your own, watching the soft light from the bedside lamp cause shadows to dance across him while he got comfortable. Of course, he opted to lie on his back on top of the blanket. 

“Better than the chair?” You were smiling smugly when he rolled his head toward you. He scoffed and returned his gaze to the ceiling. In seconds, his eyelids were drooping, along with your own. You took a deep, content breath and allowed yourself to relax and begin to give in to the call of sleep. 

Just as the last dregs of consciousness began to release their hold, you could have sworn you heard him say “much better than the chair.”

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Are You From Tennessee?

Written for my @eddiemunsonbingo prompt B1: Bad Pickup Lines. 828 words. Rated T. Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson with no archive warnings.

Steve sat at the bar with an old fashioned cupped in his hands as he chatted with the bartender. It was a pretty average night, and he felt content in that normalcy.

As a presence fell over him, Steve didn’t bother to look up. He stayed where he was as a pair of arms rested against the bar on either side of him. The bartender looked curiously but didn’t intervene.

“Hey baby, come here often?”

Steve’s spine stiffened, and now the bartender stood up straighter as he prepared to intervene from Steve’s body language. Before he could, though, Steve turned around to face the man directly.

Eddie’s wide eyes looked back at him as Steve snapped, “Nope, not good enough. Try again.”

Eddie took a single step back and Steve nodded, gesturing to shoo him away. “Restart. I’m worth a little more creativity, yeah?”

Barking out a laugh, Eddie nodded. He didn’t say anything further as he headed back toward the bathrooms.

The bartender went a little bug-eyed as he watched Eddie go. “Should I ask?”

Steve shrugged. “Just a little game we play. That’s my husband.”

His expression softened. “Should I keep an ear out for what he says when he comes back?”

Steve chuckled with a nod. “Absolutely. He’s normally pretty ingenious, and I’m a little offended by the laziness of that one.”

His drink was almost gone when he felt Eddie’s return. This time he leaned against the bar next to Steve, tilting his head and letting his hair fall in a way he knew drove Steve crazy.

“You must be a parking ticket,” Eddie said.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Steve leaned toward him. He couldn’t help it.

Eddie grinned. “You’ve got fine written all over you.”

The bartender snorted. Eddie glanced at him curiously, but Steve never looked away from Eddie. Normally he played pretend here, but Eddie had set him up so well with one Steve had been waiting to use.

“That must make you a library card,” he said, and Eddie’s face opened up in delight. “Because all I want to do is check you out.”

“You’re really drawing me in over here.” Eddie reached out to run his finger over the back of Steve’s hand. “You must be an artist or something.”

Steve hummed, thinking quickly. If they were trading back and forth, he definitely wanted to keep going. “That hand of yours looks heavy. Can I hold it for you?”

Eddie laughed as he slipped his fingers between Steve’s. “Oh, your skin’s burning up. Must be because you’re so hot.”

Steve ducked his head, letting his forehead rest on Eddie’s shoulder to hide his grin and give himself time to think. Did he have any guitar jokes ready? No, but there was one about strings that had made him laugh. How did it go?

“You must be a puppeteer,” Steve said as he sat back up. “You seem like you’d be really good at pulling my strings.”

Eddie chuckled as he leaned in to press a slow kiss to Steve’s lips. As he pulled away, he added, “Life without you would be like a broken pencil.”

“Pointless.” Steve had seen this one before. Maybe they were looking at the same lists.

Eddie pouted a little at having his punchline stolen, but another kiss quickly put a smile back on his face.

They both looked up as a set of glasses slid in front of them. The bartender winked. “On the house after that little display.”

Steve laughed, squeezing Eddie’s hand even as his husband looked confused but along for the ride. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

They chatted as the two of them sipped their way through their drinks. By the time they’d finished, Steve had to stifle a yawn. He didn’t have the stamina to stay out late like he used to.

Eddie noticed. Of course he did. With a sly smile, he leaned over and tapped Steve’s nose. “Ready to head home?”

Steve made a face. “You don’t have anything more spicy to ask with.”

Eddie winked and leaned in close to speak quietly in Steve’s ear. “Are you an elevator? I’d be happy to go up and down all night.”

Steve couldn’t help the snort that left his mouth, even as he tried to cover it.

Eddie grinned. “Well if you like that one…” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek before adding, “I’ve got a vitamin D deficiency. Think you have something that could save me?”

Steve groaned, letting his head fall onto Eddie’s shoulder. “That was bad, even for you.”

Eddie laughed and tossed a couple bills on the bartop before sliding off his stool. His arm slid around Steve’s face. “Still willing to go home with me after that?”

With a heavy sigh, Steve nestled into his side as they started walking. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgement. “That’s what I love about you. With you, I don’t need any lines.”

[AO3 link]

[moodymelanist]

A Nessian drabble idea: Cassian waking up from anesthesia forgetting who Nesta is and is immediately starts flirting with her because she's so beautiful.

omg YES. this is so them thank you for sending this in I’ve always wanted to write one of these. I’ve also never had my wisdom teeth removed so sorry for any inaccuracies there LOL

Nesta had been hanging out in the waiting room for about an hour when someone finally called her name.

“Nesta Archeron?” one of the nurses called. Nesta quickly gathered her jacket and purse and got up to follow her.

“How’s he doing?” Nesta asked. Cassian had finally taken the plunge and gotten all four of his wisdom teeth removed in one go, and while Nesta knew this was a routine enough procedure, she was still a little antsy about her husband using anesthesia.

“It went well,” the nurse replied, leading Nesta into what looked like the outpatient area. “He’s recovering now. The anesthesia should be wearing off in the next few minutes if it hasn’t already.”

The nurse ran through a list of symptoms to watch out for and general tips to help Cassian’s healing process. Even though Nesta knew she’d be getting a thick packet with all these instructions, she still did her best to commit them to memory. This was her husband they were talking about; she wasn’t going to take any risks with him.

By the time the nurse finished explaining everything, they’d made it inside Cassian’s recovery room. He looked a little funny with his cheeks all swollen and a bandage wrapped around his face, but Nesta was too glad everything had gone well to really make fun of him.

That didn’t stop her from snapping a picture, though. Just because she didn’t intend to use it to tease him later didn’t mean she didn’t want one.

“Hey,” Nesta said softly as Cassian’s eyes fluttered open. “How are you feeling?”

“Hey,” Cassian said back, drawing out the word long and slow. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” she managed to reply without laughing. He was clearly still feeling the anesthesia, and she was going to enjoy him being loopy for as long as it lasted. “You ready to go home?”

“With you?” he asked, his face lighting up.

“Of course with me,” she responded with a fond roll of her eyes.

“It must be my lucky day,” he answered, trying to pull his lips into a smirk and failing miserably. “Going home with the most gorgeous woman in here.”

“We go home together every night, you idiot,” she told him with a huff of laughter. “We live together.”

“Then I guess it’s my lucky night every night,” he fired back, though some of the effect was lost by how drowsy he sounded.

Nesta and the nurse exchanged amused glances before they started to prep to get him out of there. Thankfully Cassian was still dressed, so they just had to get him to stand so he could sit back down again in the wheelchair.

“Come on, big guy,” Nesta said, pulling the blankets back from Cassian so he could get out the bed. “Time to come home with me.”

“But…” Cassian trailed off, his face twisting into the most adorable pout as he caught sight of her left hand. “You’re married.”

She stared at him a little incredulously. Was he fucking with her, or was this just the anesthesia? “Yes?”

“I’ve been flirting with a married woman,” he groaned, bringing his hands up to his face and immediately regretting it. “Oh, God, I’m a homewrecker.”

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered under her breath, trying and failing to hold back her laughter. She gently pulled his hands away from his face and tapped the matching gold band on his left hand before raising her voice to add, “Cassian, look. You’re married too.”

“That’s even worse,” he groaned once he noticed his own wedding band. “Holy fuck. I’m a homewrecker and a cheater.”

“No, you doofus,” she replied, still laughing. “We’re married to each other.”

Cassian’s face looked like Christmas had come early. “Really?”

“Really,” Nesta confirmed. “It’ll be six years this October.”

“Oh, wow,” he breathed, completely awed. He reached out and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together with a dopey look on his face. “Let’s go home, then.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard | @thatsowlmazing | @avidromancereader | @a-little-disguised | @kale-theteaqueen | @talibunny30 | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @fieldofdaisiies

[feyhunter78]

Among the Sun Ch 5

Description: Miguel has finally returned home with his bride, but first he must see his daughter. Ch 6

Miguel carries you into the palace, your sleeping form curled against his chest, his steps echoing in the empty hall. He loves you. He has as loved you from the moment your eyes met his all those years ago, but he has not seen his daughter in many months. And he does not wish for your fear of being confined in yet another strange place to draw him from her side.

He lays you down on the soft bed, glancing around the sweeping chambers, meant to be used only for the night before your wedding. The Maiden’s Sanctuary, as it is called, is a place for future brides to rest and prepare before they are brought before their husbands. The ceiling towers above you, the windows soaring but locked tightly, and he has your meager possessions quickly stored in the various wardrobes about the room.

He doesn’t want to leave you here. He wishes to keep you by his side, but Gabi is undoubtably planning a multitude of ways to escape her caretaker and come find him, now that word of his arrival has reached the inner workings of the palace.

Miguel ensures you’re properly covered, then exits, locking the door behind him and nodding to his guards. He cannot have you blindly venturing further into the palace and stumbling upon the wrong person.

The walk to Margo’s chambers—Gabi’s caretaker since she was a mere babe—is not far, and his joy at seeing his daughter once more gives flight to his feet, the sound of her giggling reaching him before he even rounds the corner.  

He throws open the door, and Gabi darts towards the open door, flinging herself into his arms.

“Papá, Papá! I missed you.” Gabi says, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her tiny horns poking at his skin.

Miguel holds her tightly, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “Hello mija, have you been good for Tia Margo?”

Gabi nods, pulling back, her eyes meeting his, a bright smile on her face. “Yes, she said I could ask you for anything I wanted when you returned because I was so good.”

Miguel’s eyes flicker to the older woman seating in a wooden rocking chair. Her tanned skin is wrinkled, her dark hair slowly turning gray. “She behaved admirably, Miguel; you should be quite proud of her.”

“And I did not cry after the first week…well, there was a storm, but I tried hard to be brave.” Gabi adds, sticking her bottom lip out slightly at the mention of the storm.

“I am sure you were very brave, mija, a true princess of Neuva.” Miguel praises, shifting her to one hip as he nods to Margo and begins to carry Gabi back to her own chambers.

Gabi wraps her arms around his neck sleepily. “Did you find Mamá?”

He stumbles for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. “Your mother?”

Her mother, Ava, had abandoned them when Gabi was born, claiming she had no desire to raise such a demonic being . He’d warned her that there was a possibility their child would inherit his abysmal abilities and features, but she’d assured him it would not sway her love for them. He later learned that sentiment was not the only falsehood to come from his former paramour.

“The one from your dreams, the princess.” She continues, a yawn interrupting her words.

The tension growing within him like a thicket of thorns recedes. “We will discuss such things in the morning, you and I both must rest.”

“But I wish to see the princess.” Gabi pouts.

“Is your Papá not enough? You wound me, mija.” He says playfully, putting on an expression of mock hurt to make her laugh.

“Papá is always enough.” She reassures him, snuggling closer to him as Miguel enters their shared wing, and begins to set her down in her bed.

“Do not forget my candle.” She says sleepily, holding her stuffed bear to her chest as she drifts off to sleep.

“Of course, I would never forget.” Miguel lights the rose-colored candle and sets it on her small tea table.

The large candle was among the first gifts presented to him to celebrate Gabi’s birth. Ava had fled, and he was young, and alone, cradling a babe he felt unable to care for. He was a monster, a murderer, he did not deserve such a precious gift, such a pure and innocent being, and yet he could not—would not turn her away. It had been Margo, a former midwife and widow, who had given him the candle. It was the meekest of gifts, but only she had been brave enough to deliver the gift herself.

“Goodnight mija, I will come wake you in the morning, then we will break fast, and I will tell you all about my adventures.”

He hears her say, “goodnight Papá,” and a few tired ramblings about “breakfast cakes,” and “dancing bears.”

He muffles his laughter and closes her door softly before meandering back to the Maidan’s Sanctuary.

Miguel nods to the guards before reentering your chambers, exhaustion pulling at his bones, impatience at his feet. He simply wishes to lie beside you, as he has done for many weeks now.

But you are not there.

The bed is empty, your scent lingers only faintly in the air, and he cannot hear your heartbeat.

He roars in anger, taking hold of the nearest object—a table—and hurling it at the wall, feeling a familiar satisfaction in the way it cracked and shattered, splinters of wood littering the floor.

“Find her.” He demands as he stalks out of your chambers, enhanced senses searching for you, his mind set ablaze with panic and rage.

He does not wish to chase you, to hunt you like an animal, but it seems you leave him no choice. This is his home, he has bled to claim his rightful place within this palace of stone, and there is no corner, no nook, no cranny, that you might find that will hide you from him.

Tag list: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch, @ihateuguys, @yuuotosaka3, @queenofroses22

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 21/34 - eggs benedict

[Read on AO3]

It’s strange, staying with Sheriff Adderly and his wife Ellen during this case in Vermont. If he had his way, he’d be checked into a motel instead of infringing on their hospitality, but he’d been given no choice. They even refused reimbursement for their troubles, which did nothing to lessen the feeling—however true or untrue it was—of him being a burden to them.

Ellen Adderly had pulled out all the stops for their guest, preparing decadent meals on fine china for every meal, claiming she’d have done it whether he was there or not. He has a hard time believing that. He can’t imagine living in such a way every day of his life. He and Scully barely manage to set out real plates to eat on when they order takeout at home, and he certainly doesn’t expect her to have a three course meal set out when he gets back from work. Besides the fact that she’s always at work with him, it’s just not something he thinks is necessary. Is that something she’d want to do? He doesn’t think so. 

The routine they have works for them, that’s all that matters.

But after getting a taste of his own personal brand of domesticity, it’s… odd… to see how others do it. He’d never have thought there were so many different ways to balance home life, much less enough that he’d start to form an opinion on them. His parents had been one way—not a particularly healthy relationship—and he and Scully are… well, they’re not really anything besides roommates, but that still counts, in his book.

Whatever they are, he likes it. Far better than this constant fussing, at least.

Mrs. Adderly must notice his discomfort, because at breakfast as she masterfully puts the finishing touches on his eggs benedict, she says “I get the feeling you're not used to anyone taking care of you,” and for some reason, that assumption grates on his nerves.

He takes a measured draw from his cup of steaming coffee, swallowing back his immediate retort.

“What makes you say that?” he asks instead. She probably hadn’t meant anything by it, but it still comes off as rude. He has someone to take care of him, thanks very much. Just not exactly in the same way as Mrs. Adderly insists on taking care of her husband… and apparently Mulder too.

“I’m sorry,” Ellen says, realizing her statement had come out somewhat offensive. “I just mean… I didn’t see a wedding band.”

She nods at his left hand sitting atop the table, and he follows her gaze to the bare ring finger.

“Do you have a significant other, Agent Mulder?” she asks.

Significant? Yes. Very. Other? That’s a good descriptor. Single, married, other. Yeah, he’d select other, if this were a multiple choice question. Although he’s pretty sure that’s not what she meant.

“I’ve– um…” he starts, wondering how best to describe his situation to this woman. “I’ve got a wife, actually.” He pulls out the ring on its chain to show her. “It can be dangerous in my line of work to have it on display,” he explains lamely before tucking it back into his shirt.

Ellen smiles. “Ah, well that’s good. Don't miss out on home and family, Mr. Mulder. I imagine with all the things you see, you need that refuge more than most.”

Her words hang in the air, a bit of sage advice from a woman he otherwise has very little in common with. But before he really has a chance to think about what she’s said, Sheriff Adderly makes an appearance, and it’s back to business. Ellen excuses herself to go check on their daughter, leaving the two of them alone to discuss the case.

Mulder remains seated at the table, staring down the sheriff with a knowing look. He’d begun to suspect—and now his suspicions are all but confirmed—that the man had been unfaithful to his wife, and it makes him feel sick. Here this man has it all; a loving wife, a sweet baby that they didn’t have to jump through a million hoops to get, and yet he’s willing to throw it all away for some cheap thrills.

He’ll never understand it.

The man is no more forthcoming about his knowledge of the case than he had been before, so Mulder lets it slide for now. The last thing he wants to do is show all his cards too early and spook him. He gives him just enough to leave him rattled. To let him know that he knows . 

He lets the unspoken threat hang between them until the sheriff folds, squirming away to take a shower, or so he says. 

He’s still seething in bitter disgust when Ellen returns, carrying her sleepy baby in her arms. It’s a well-practiced juggling act, Mulder can tell, as she goes about fixing herself a plate of her now lukewarm breakfast. With only one arm, she clearly struggles to transfer strips of bacon out of the pan, and Mulder gets to his feet.

“Here, let me help,” he says, joining her in the kitchen. What he’d meant was that he could help assemble her plate, but as he goes to reach for the spatula, he instead finds himself being handed a baby, and his eyes widen comically. “Oh, right,” he says, then plasters a forced smile on his face. Sure, this was what he’d meant to do all along. 

The little girl is heavier than he’d expected. Like a sack of flour, though with limbs jutting out everywhere. It takes him a moment to adjust, his hands holding her awkwardly beneath the armpits. 

“Hi,” he says conversationally, looking down at her like she’s a ticking time bomb that could explode at any moment. The baby just blinks at him, a blank stare on her face. “Okay,” he mutters to himself, lifting her to his hip and returning to the table. He makes every effort to not look like this isn’t the first time he’s held a baby in—well, basically forever, but he’s not sure he succeeds.

Ellen smiles across the table at him and digs into her meal.

“Do you have children, Agent Mulder?” she asks, “You and your wife?”

It still makes his heart flutter to hear someone refer to Scully as such, but he supposes that to Ellen, it really is that simple. Scully is his wife, that’s all she knows.

He’d always thought conversations like this to be so dull. ‘So, Dave, how’s the ol’ ball and chain? Kids staying out of trouble?’  But, now… 

Well, it’s different now that he actually has something to contribute to the discussion.

“Yeah, actually, one on the way,” he says, giving a self-conscious little smile. 

He’s never told anybody about this other than Skinner, but he supposes there’s no harm in telling this random woman in Vermont. It almost makes him feel… normal. Like he can relate to other people over the simple fact of his impending fatherhood. A shared human experience. A milestone in his life that doesn’t involve aliens, ghosts, ghouls, or any manner of cryptozoological entity.

“We’re adopting,” he further explains. “Only a couple months left till the birth mother’s due date.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Ellen exclaims, smiling up at him over her bowl of fresh fruit. “You must be so excited!”

“Very,” he says, looking down at the drooling baby on his lap. “We never really thought it was possible. That we’d ever—” 

He pauses, the shrill tone of his cell phone breaking into their conversation.

“Speaking of my wife,” he says, flipping open the device. “Hey, Scully. How’s the stakeout going?”

Her voice crackles over the other side of the line, drawing a genuine smile out of him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that, Mulder, so that I can give you the good news I just received.”

His stomach does a flip. “Good news?”

He pictures her nodding, sitting in that grimy, cold room surrounded by surveillance equipment, somehow brightening it with her smile. “Krista called and we had a little chat.”

Mulder looks up at Ellen from across the table, where she’s watching him with a knowing smile. “Oh?” he says.

“Mm-hmm. And you know what she told me?”

Scully is extra cheeky this morning, huh? He misses her horribly. This is the last time he’s letting Skinner split them up for a case. After this, no more. He’s putting his foot down. What are they going to do, fire him?

“What did she tell you?” he asks, turning to instead stare at the floorboards, giving himself the illusion of privacy despite the constant watch of Mrs. Adderly.

“She told me the sex of the baby. Would you like to know?”

His heart thumps in his chest suddenly, its rhythm erratic. This, he hadn’t expected first thing in the morning. He hasn’t even finished his first cup of coffee yet.

“She finally found out?”

“Yeah, Krista said she was a lot more cooperative at this appointment than the last one,” Scully explains.

Mulder freezes.

“She?” he says, his voice raspy with awe. “It’s a girl?”

He hears Scully release a shuddering breath before her voice comes back, with all the telltale signs of happy tears that he’s come to recognize in the last few months.

“It’s a girl,” she confirms.

It’s a girl. He’s gonna have a baby girl.

“That’s– that’s amazing, Scully! That’s… wow!”

“I know,” she says. “I’m– You’re not disappointed, are you?”

“Disappointed?” he asks, furrowing his brow. “Why would I be disappointed?” 

Disappointed is the absolute last thing he’d be feeling right now. Elated is a better word. Maybe a little scared, but he’ll get over it.

“I don’t know, I just thought… You know, you talked about coaching little league, and I’m sure you want someone to watch basketball with you…”

He laughs. He can’t help but laugh. “Just because you don’t like basketball doesn’t mean other girls don’t,” he says matter-of-factly. “And have you seen girls softball teams, Scully? They’re brutal. You try getting hit by one of those giant neon yellow ostrich eggs at 50 miles an hour. I volunteered to practice with the girls once in high school. Almost lost an eye.”

“But what if she doesn’t like sports at all?” Scully asks, and he’d bet good money that she’s chewing on her lip right now, the way she does when she’s worried. “What if she’s on the chess team or plays the violin or the piano?”

Oh, Scully.

“Then I’ll learn all the names of her concertos and cheer her on at every chess tournament,” he answers simply. “Look, Scully, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and I are both gigantic nerds. I think we’ll be prepared for whatever she’s interested in when she gets older.”

She . They can finally stop talking about her in abstract terms. A girl. A daughter.

“Your mom’s gonna flip,” he says when she doesn’t respond. Margaret Scully has a grandson, but no granddaughter. He can just see the little plaid dresses, frilly socks, Mary Jane shoes, and giant velvet bows in their future. She’ll be spoiled rotten.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Scully says, sounding wistful. 

“Me too,” he agrees. “When I get back, we’re going out shopping again. I think maybe this time I’ll be able to hold it together in the clothes section.”

That earns him a laugh.

“I’m willing to bet it will go the same way as last time,” she teases back, and she’s probably not wrong. Just picturing this baby, a little girl like the one he’s holding now, has him emotionally on edge.

“I– I’ll talk to you later, okay?” he says, glancing up at the clock. “Let the thought of warm baby snuggles keep you from freezing your butt off.”

She sighs, the annoyance of her less than ideal assignment returning. “Thanks for reminding me, ” she intones.

They stay on the line a moment more, waiting to see who will be the one to hang up. Eventually he hears a soft click, and he smiles down at the phone in his hand. Goodbyes have never been necessary between them. Maybe that’s just another way they’re weird, but he likes it.

The baby in his lap gurgles, and he sets his phone on the table to turn his attention back to her. He sees her differently now, with the knowledge that he has a little girl on the way too.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” Ellen says, eyes shining as she watches him.

Mulder feels his cheeks beginning to burn. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No, really,” she says more insistently. “You seem to care a lot already. And wanting to be involved… Well, that’s everything. Your wife is a very lucky woman.”

“I’m the one who’s lucky,” he says, and he truly believes it.

He’s the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.

~~~

wife guy / girl dad mulder says you get another chapter :)

Chapter 22/34 - pizza boxes

The sound of keyboards clacking fills the dimly-lit room. A greasy bag that once held at least a dozen cheap tacos from the place across town sits atop a stack of empty pizza boxes, not that the inhabitants of this particular abode pay much attention to that kind of thing. 

“Hey, here's something weird,” Langly says, looking up from the computer monitor, the unnatural light of it reflecting off his glasses.

“What? Is it Krycek again?” Frohike asks, crossing the short distance to lean over the other man’s shoulder. “What’s that little rat up to now?”

Langly adjusts the bright, warm-toned desk lamp to minimize the glare on the screen.

“No, just something strange in my sweep of government records,” he says.

“Mention of a virus? Shadow government stuff?”

Langly shakes his head. “It flagged a document mentioning Mulder and Scully's names.”

This bit of information piques Byers’ interest from across the room. “What agency? Homeland? DoD?” he asks, joining the other two at Langly’s computer.

“County court in Annapolis, Maryland,” Langly reads off the screen. “Dated December 24, 1999.”

“Open it!” Frohike demands impatiently.

It takes only a few seconds to hack the database, which is a little alarming. What would the public think if they knew how insecure county records are? But that’s a concern for another day. 

The document slowly appears on screen, and three pairs of eyes take in the information all at once.

“That's… unexpected,” Byers says.

“Married? Since when?” Frohike exclaims.

Langly looks up at him with a condescending glare and smacks the older man in the stomach. “Since Christmas, idiot, haven't you been paying attention?”

“Not that, stupid,” Frohike says, quick to respond with a slap to the back of the blond man’s shaggy head. “Since when are they an item? Did I miss something?”

“You seen a rock on her finger lately? I haven't,” Langly comments.

“Get Mulder on the phone, that little sneak owes us an explanation!” Frohike snaps, pointing a finger at Byers.

The phone rings a few times before it connects, the voice of their friend coming through on speakerphone.

“Now's not a good time, boys,” he says. There's some kind of noise in the background, someone speaking, but they can’t make out who it is. It doesn’t sound like anyone they know. 

“Mulder!” Frohike yells into the phone. “What gives, man?!”

“Yeah, bro, we'd have thrown you a bachelor party if we'd known,” Langly adds.

A sigh crackles through on the other end of the line, and Mulder murmurs something indistinguishable to someone before finding somewhere quieter to talk.

“How'd you find out?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

“Your marriage license record came up in one of our regular sweeps. No other threats, by the way,” Byers answers.

“Except maybe Frohike,” Langly jokes. “He might want to challenge you for her hand.”

Byers snickers.

“Shut up! I'm happy for them,” Frohike says, glaring at his friends.

Langly rolls his eyes. “You never stood a chance.”

“There's an explanation for this, I swear, now's just really not a good time,” Mulder says, insistent.

“What's there to explain?” Frohike asks. “You guys fell in love and got married without telling your best friends. No big deal.”

He’s not genuinely trying to guilt trip Mulder, but it does sting a little that they hadn’t said anything to them. Maybe just a little tiny guilt trip. A guilt excursion, if you will.

“It's not… really that simple,” Mulder says, his words hesitant.

“What do you mean?” Byers asks.

“I know you didn't knock her up, obviously, so what more is there?” Langly says, as delicate as a brick to the face.

“Well,” Mulder says, “I kind of did, in a manner of speaking.”

“Scully's pregnant?” Byers asks. This is shocking news. It should be impossible! “But—”

“No, Scully's not pregnant,” Mulder quickly corrects before the conversation can spiral out of control more than it already has. “But… we are expecting, actually. Hopefully.”

“IVF?” Byers asks.

“Not IVF. We tried that last year though, you're a little late to the party.”

Jeez, what haven’t they missed? Maybe the real conspiracy is whatever the heck is going on with Mulder and Scully.

“Then, what—?”

“We're adopting,” he says, interrupting them. They can almost hear his smile over the phone, all goofy and care-free. “There's a woman that selected us to adopt her baby when she’s born, so… I'm actually at this class for new parents with Scully right now. I should probably be getting back. Don't want the teacher to flunk me.”

“Wait wait wait,” Frohike says. “Adopting? How long have you guys been… you know?”

“Well we only started talking about it back in November. It's honestly moving pretty fast, but we're excited.”

“Not that,” Frohike says, waving his hands in the air. “You and Scully!”

“Oh,” Mulder says awkwardly. “Um, we actually aren't. A couple, I mean. If that's what you're asking.”

Frohike’s jaw drops. “You're kidding.”

“No, I'm not.”

“But you're married!” Langly insists.

“A formality.”

“The IVF!”

“Favor for a friend.”

“Yeah, right!” Frohike says with a laugh, sharing a disbelieving look with the other Gunmen.

“You love her, don't you?” Byers asks, sincerity breaking through his friends’ incredulity.

“If you're just gonna harass me, I'm going to hang up.”

Okay, so he’s done sharing for now. They’ll just have to try to get more out of him later.

“Mulder… what are we going to do with you?” Frohike asks, shaking his head.

“Listen, guys, I've got to go. We're learning how to change a diaper and I'd really like to not make a fool of myself, if at all possible.”

“Wait,” Frohike says. “Tell Scully congrats for us. We're happy for you, Mulder.”

“Yeah, we just think you're a complete idiot too,” Langly adds bluntly.

“Thanks, guys. We're really happy. Sorry I haven't been around, it's been crazy.”

Well, now at least they know why Mulder has been missing their poker nights and D&D lately.

“Don't worry about it, Mulder. Just—maybe tell us what's going on next time?” Byers suggests.

Mulder puffs out a laugh. “Sure, next time I marry my partner with the purpose of adopting a child, I'll let you know.”

Frohike points seriously at the phone, despite the fact that Mulder can’t see it. “Watch it, buddy, you're already on thin ice.”

“I'll talk to you guys soon,” Mulder says. “Oh, and if you're ever looking for me, I'm staying at Scully’s apartment now, by the way. I gave up my apartment.”

“Dude…” Langly says. There's something seriously wrong with those two.

“Alright, I gotta go. I'll tell Scully you say hi.” And with that, he hangs up, leaving the three amigos to take in everything they’d just learned.

“Aren't a couple…” Frohike grumbles, repeating his words. “They're a couple of idiots, I'll tell you that.”

Byers nods his agreement, and Langly shrugs. 

“Lucky kid, though.”

~~~

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[cyaerandom]

FAQ

Do not interact with this account if you're a minor.

I highly recommend not following me at @cyaerandom, because it's a personal account. If you like what I draw, please consider my art blog instead. I will reblog any scribbles I post here.

ART BLOG @cerberusmahou I'm mainly into ATLA 🪃👣 + 🌾🌊‎ , but I draw whatever and this can change any day. Take this into consideration before following. Mute #riya reblog for art only and check the other stuff I'm into to curate your space. Alternatively, you can install XKit and turn on the feature Show Originals. Art only tag Scribbles tag (cw: suggestive content) Ask me anything, or give me ideas to draw! Unless specified otherwise, I don't take art requests. However, I'm always on the lookout for inspiration, happy to read about your headcanons and talk about our mutual interests. As a general rule expect me to reply by text, but if any prompt gets my brain gears turning, I may draw it.

🌈M/F ATLA. A discord group for LGBT+ adults who enjoy or create straight ships content and want to meet people similar to them!

All joining members must be 20+ years old. Mlm/wlw is obviously allowed and welcomed, but not our focal theme.

Can I use your art as icon and/or for rp? Sure, I'll be honored.

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Could you share your art style inspiration? Here.

Any tips for dynamism? Besides checking on art tutorials (dynamism and gesture drawing), I'd say studying the principles of 2D animation, paying attention to real people's body language, and watching animation compilations from great artists like Richard Williams, Milt Halt, Hiroyuki Imaishi, Yutaka Nakamura, etc. I tend to tag animation gifs I go across and like, feel free to use it as reference library, if it's helpful for you.

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I mainly draw m/f, but I talk and draw about gender and sexuality in a very fluid way. Sometimes seriously, sometimes as a joke. If you need characters and ships to be gender-conforming to a fault, my account is not for you.

+18 only

Do you take commissions? Yes, here's my carrd. Adults only. Do you have Patreon? Yes, here's the link. Once again, adults only.

Check my former pinned post and appreciate this beautiful fanart of my wife and her husband.

[moiteneia]

You have me.

Many questioned whether q!Cellbit would notice q!Roier's dark circles under his eyes when he saw him. Today we had the answer: he just needed a second.

He glanced quickly at his husband amid the chaos of the event and quickly noticed something was wrong. He realized that q!Roier was hiding his feelings again and promised that they would talk. He was filled with worry and only became "calm" when he could know what was going through his husband's head. He gave Roier the time he needed, spent time with him and waited for his husband to feel comfortable enough to tell him what was bothering him so much, but he didn't allow himself to be bypassed by the jokes and pranks this time. The two care a lot about each other.

It's one of the most beautiful things in guapoduo, isn't it? They understand each other a lot. They trust and know how the other must be feeling without either of them needing to express themselves in words. I can say this even from q!Roier's side, he knows when q!Cell starts to get anxious about the riddles and immediately tries to help him, laughing a little, singing or even trying to solve the puzzles.

And, today, during the conversation about how q!Roier felt about the disappearance of his son and sister, q!Cell said:

"I know you are sad. I know you hide your sadness by joking and trying to make others laugh. But I am here for you, always. You know that.”

But then we find a parenthesis. It's not a problem, just something that draws my attention.

Despite trusting each other, both q!Roier and q!Cell end up trying to hide their problems. They are both very traumatized and fear that they will be rejected by doing this, however, we saw that q!Cell got his husband to take a deep breath and open his heart.

However, he doesn't let q!Roier know about his problems. This is not a problem with q!Roier but with q!Cell. He sees himself as responsible. The only one who cannot fall apart and who cannot demonstrate that something is wrong.

Of course! He cries and has already said that he misses Richas and the little eggs, but at no point did he talk about how he felt with the others.

Even q!Forever himself said: "You can't fall! You're the only one I trust to save us if everything goes wrong." He called q!Cell...Wizard doctor or something like that too KKKKKKK.

But, do you understand? This makes me worried. q!Cell repeats to himself over and over again that he doesn't want to be controlled by emotions like he was in the past... That maybe, if he doesn't really open up to someone, he'll close himself off more and more.

And emptiness is a thousand times worse than emotions. Because if there is nothing, there is no reason to avoid the destruction of everthing and himself.

So lastly, this is more of a wish than actually what I think might happen, but I would like there to be a conversation of them on opposite sides. A conversation in which q!Roier knows exactly what q!Cell thinks so much.

How much anger, fear and frustration he feels knowing that everything he does for and against the Federation doesn't bring enough answers. How much pain he really feels after so much psychological and physical torture.

How close he is to falling apart from feeling the weight of the world and the entire island on his shoulders - the people he cares most about and would die for.

And how much he destroys himself every day knowing that Richas won't be there to give him a good morning.

[darkk-academic]

Chaos

[Part I] [Part II]

[Five Hargreeves x Reader]

Summary : A very chaotic reunion.

Warning : None.

Chaos isn't something Five Hargreeves would choose willingly. Ever.

He wants a break.

From being a child superhero, to getting stuck in the apocalypse, then the journey of being an assassin, and proceeding to prevent the aforementioned apocalypse.

Him and his mind have been on a never-ending marathon.

So pardon him if he wants to take a step back and just relax.

This road trip was supposed to be the first step.

Was. Because Klaus derailed his plan.

Although, he'd admit that it hasn't been entirely unpleasant, as he waits for Klaus by the car, he concurs that this trip so far is nice.

The green field stretching around him, the subtle caress of sunshine, the gentle breeze, the complete absence of Homo sapiens. It's all very relaxing.

There's a sound. The distinctive sound made by cows. A cow's moo, to be precise.

His gaze trails over towards the sound— cattle grazing peacefully. He smiles, taking a deep breathe—

And promptly chokes.

Chaos isn't something Five Hargreeves would choose willingly. Ever.

But that doesn't mean, Chaos would show him the same courtesy.

Because Chaos, it seems, has a taste for him.

Deceptive in the appearance, well mixed among the shades of brown, black, and white. There, amid the serene creatures, stands chaos incarnate—

You.

Don't, his mind warns.

And of course, he won't. This is supposed to be his retirement. Why would he want to turn that upside down? Ridiculous notion, really. He would not—

His mouth has a mind of its own because it has already parted and yelled your name.

His voice echoes. Your name echoes. And if he must be dramatic, then the time has come to a standstill.

In a blink, your head snaps in his direction.

You blink. Once. Twice.

A grin spreads across your face—and he's startled by the confusing thought that whether it's really the sun that's shining or it's just you.

"FIVE!"

And you're running. Hands wide open. His eyes widen—feeling like a man standing before a bull, red cloth in hand—You're running, running towards him.

You are closer. And closer. Closer—

You trip.

Five sighs. In a few long strides, he closes the distance between you two.

Hand gripping you above the elbow, he hauls you up. "Are you okay?"

"Okay? No, I am not!" You reply, though your expression remains ecstatic. "I am—I am—I am," your brows crinkle in thought.

"Are you—"

"Phantasmagorical!" You exclaim. Fingers curling around his arms, you shake him a bit. "I'm phantasmagorical because I've met you. Been soo long."

Squealing, you hug him.

His palm is on your back in an instant, supporting you as you stand on your tiptoes.

He breathes in, willing his muscles to uncoil. It takes a few seconds before he lets himself rest his chin on your head.

All too soon, you release him.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, lest he did something stupid like draw you back again.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where?" You tilt your head, nose scrunching in a way he has always found adorable.

"Among the," gesturing towards the surroundings, "Amish."

"Ah yes," you nod, in a sage voice, "For peace."

He quirks a brow. "Really?"

"No."

A smile threatens to curl at his lips. "Then?"

"So there's this husband-wife duo, and they were my neighbours in the city. And then they stole stuff from my house. So, they're not husband-wife duo but thief duo, which honestly I kinda respect—"

"So you came back to get your stuff back?" He queries, cutting off what would undoubtedly be a long ramble.

You nod in an absentminded fashion, before snapping out of it. "What? No!"

He exhales in exasperation. "Then why?"

"I came here to get Lila's kraken plushie—"

"Wait, Lila is here?"

"Yeah, we came together—"

"What's she doing—"

Your fingers snap his lips shut together. Literally.

"No Lila. Pay attention to me. I'm here." And as if to prove that you are indeed here, you start jumping in front of him, hand open like wings, chanting, 'eyes on me, eyes on me, eyes on me.'

As if his eyes are even capable of being anywhere but at you when you're near him.

Rolling his eyes, he grips your 'wings' and pulls you closer.

"I'm never not looking at you," his mouth seems to have found a mind of its own.

There's a flush rising on your cheeks, and he feels a twinge of pride at extracting such a reaction.

"As you should," you say.

His confidence abandons him in a sudden manner when you peer up at him through your lashes.

He looks away, stepping back. Clearing his throat. "Need any help retrieving the stolen item?"

"Oh, I got it back on the first day I arrived here."

"Then why are you still here?"

"Having a bit of fun with the thief duo."

"So, antagonising them, and being a general chaos," he surmises.

"Haven't I told you, the thing about chaos is that—"

"It's fair, yeah, you have."

"You know what's not fair?"

"What would that be?"

In response, you settle your hand on his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair on the nape.

He suppresses a shiver.

"Having figured out that the more the love, the more the chaos. And then not being able to confess, for almost two years. Because, you see, it happened after I caused a bar fight after telling a man that this other man was making goo-goo eyes at his boyfriend. And then a brawl started, and I thought, 'huh, look what chaos love can cause.' And then I realised that If I'm chaos, then love is you—"

"What?" His voice is a whisper.

"You are the fuse of my chaos. And I would really like to be the fuse of your love, which is only fair—"

"What?" His brain is lagging.

"I love you!"

"What?" White noise.

You huff, standing on your tiptoes, face dangerously close to his—his heart is travelling all around his body in a frenzy—and his eyes close.

His nose stings.

You… You bit his nose.

His eyes flutter open, fixing on you. Rubbing a hand over the ache. "You absolute menace."

"Your menace."

Well, that's just unfair. Especially that impish smile of yours. "My menace are you now?"

"No."

Oh, for fuck's sake—

"But I want to be," you continue. "Will you let me be?"

Maybe his response is a bit too quick when he says :

"Yes," relief apparent in his voice. Tugging you near him, enveloping you in an embrace.

"My menace, mine." He words it out loud to solidify this moment, sealing it in the space-time continuum by pressing a kiss against your temple.

You both sway lightly, finding a middle ground between chaos and calm.

But of course, being the magnet for all things chaotic that you are, it doesn't last long.

In a flow, the cows explode and then Klaus is shouting, Amish people chasing him down.

And you?

You are giggling in pure delight. "Oh, isn't this fun?"

He says nothing as he puts you over his shoulder, blinks into the car, and promptly deposits you on the passenger seat.

And as he drives, he glances at you and Klaus— rambling and laughing and causing a ruckus.

Chaos isn't something Five Hargreeves would choose willingly. Ever.

But, if it's you, he'd make an exception.

..................................................................................

A/N :

And here is part two.

Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤

[ @slut4fictionalcharacters28 It's here. ]

[lale-txt]

Raffle Prize: Undercover w/ Law & fem!reader

a/n: 1st prize of my raffle with @mamma-marimo being the lucky winner!! congrats again, my dearest. she requested:

An idea I had in mind is maybe Law and an F!reader (can be Gn if you prefer) are at some sort of costume party or are undercover where they have to go together as partners so it creates that sort of sexual tension with lots of stolen glances? It’s totally up to you of course so feel free to go wild and do what you’d like! I’ll also happily leave it up to you to decide either it’s sfw or nsfw :)

i was SO excited to write for this because the prompt was so fun and it's been a while since i wrote Law. also what can i say? when you said "feel free to go wild", i did and now it's a whole lot longer than the promised 1.5k (￣▽￣*)ゞ i don't think you mind though. hope you enjoy this piece, i had fun writing this!

contains: fem!reader (no pronouns used but terms like "girl" and "queen", reader wears a dress, mention of lace underwear, "cunt" used to describe gentials), ns.fw under the cut, dirty talk, vaginal penetration, breath play, handjobs (reader giving & receiving), oral (reader receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex (no breeding or pregnancy implied), exhibitionism (they're not being caught though), hints of misuse of devil fruit at the very end but nothing descriptive. please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 5.3k

“So, what do we look like?”

You do a little twirl in your dress, letting the feather coat slip slightly off your shoulders as you strut up and down the lounge in your heels, the half veil covering your nose and mouth fluttering slightly. Law leaned in the door frame behind you, also dressed up from head to toe, wearing his finest suit and a feather coat matching yours and a fake beard you couldn’t talk him out of. Both of you went extra on the golden accessories, including two small crowns, making you king and queen. You also spent a whole hour on your makeup, trying to draw the perfect winged eyeliner until Law lent you the steady hand of a surgeon, mastering it at his very first try. Needless to say that the way he tilted your head in his hands and his golden eyes lingering on you made your heart drum in your chest…

Bepo was on the edge of his seat, holding up his imaginary 10 points sign, his eyes sparkling. Shachi and Penguin didn’t seem to be very impressed, sitting cross legged on the sofa, chins resting on their palms, their eyes following you across the room.

“Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, showstopper, spectacular–” “Hilarious.” “Party theme must be ‘bird farm’.” “You look rich but in a ‘killed my rich ex-husband because he didn’t pay alimonies’ way.” “Starting a petition to get rid of our overalls and get whatever you two have going on here.”

Your captain shuts them all up with a little tsk, taking a step forward so he stands next to you, your shoulders almost touching. As he was twirling his fake beard between his fingers, you noticed there was a determined sparkle in his eyes; you could tell he was excited about the upcoming mission. Your heart skips another beat when your glances meet and he gives you a slight smile – thankfully half of your face was veiled, hiding your blushing cheeks.

“We’ll get that treasure map in no time and will be far gone already when they notice they’ve been robbed. Right, y/n-ya?”

Right. In a room full of high-ranking marines hosting a costume ball, what could go wrong for two wanted pirates, one of them head over heels in love with their captain? Still, you slap hands with him in agreement which is when you notice a detail both of you have overlooked.

“We still need some gloves for you, Law.” Your fingers brush over the back of his hand, tracing the tattoo of his jolly roger and the letters spelling out DEATH. “Can’t risk someone recognizing you by those.”

Bepo rushes off to get him some gloves while Law’s hand lingers a second too long in yours for it to be an accident, hesitant when he pulls back to smoothen down his suit, coughing slightly. Suddenly your own coat is very interesting, your fingers playing with the hem of it to keep them occupied as if they weren’t tingling from being skin on skin with your captain a few seconds ago.

After discussing the plan one more time (infiltrate the castle where the ball is held, find out which room they keep the treasure map, steal it, run off, success), you’re all settled and Law gives the command to emerge the Polar Tang. 

“Nervous?” He glances over to you, waiting to open the door for you both to step out into the night. You take a deep breath in. “About a few marines? Never.”, you laugh, checking yourself out one last time in a tiny pocket mirror. Marines didn’t scare you. Pretending to be a couple with Law as if you weren’t thinking day in, day out, about what his lips would feel like on yours? Yeah, about that… “Good. I’ll watch out for you anyway. You’re safe with me.” Law smirks as he adjusts your crown, leaning down so you could fix his, too. 

It was a rare sight, him without his signature hat, and you quite enjoyed it. Usually the only times you would see him without it were when he came out of the bathroom late at night, a towel draped around his neck and you would be quick to lower your gaze, trying not to check him out but of course you did anyway – and he knew. He’d mumble your name and you’d stutter out his as you passed each other in the hallway; you peeking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of his broad back, him turning around before he entered his captain quarters, watching you tiptoe around the corner.

You roll your shoulders before you step out into the warm summer night, waving your comrades goodbye before Law uses his devil fruit powers to teleport you both to the shore where your act begins. He holds out his arms for you to link with his and both of you slide effortlessly into the crowd walking towards the brightly lit castle. Despite their costumes you recognize some familiar admirals and for a moment you get nervous, asking yourself if you’re both disguised well enough which is when Law puts his hand on yours, calming you down. He must have noticed your grip tightening around his arm. You exchange quick glances and somehow it’s enough to reassure you that you got this; that you’ll walk out of this together whole and will sail many, many more seas together.

If it wasn’t for all the marines around you, walking up the stairs with Law would feel like a fairy tale coming to life. You did feel very rich and elegant in your evening dress, even more flattered since Law was the one who picked it out when he prepared your mission. Usually he wasn’t the best at disguises but this time he really outdid himself and so far everything went smoothly. Everyone was so busy with themselves that you were barely drawing anybody’s attention, except when you were in the way at the buffet line.

Law and you had decided to wander around between the other guests for a while, trying to overhear conversations of a person bragging about some treasures hidden in this castle. Since the egos of the higher marines were bigger than life it was very likely you would be successful in no time – even though that would also mean that your couple mission would come to an end sooner than you wanted it to be, because admittedly, feeling him this close and acting like lovers felt like a dream coming true.

A live band is playing, guests are talking and laughing loudly, the atmosphere was very loose and lively; everyone here tonight came for a good time. You could see some whispering in secret behind their masquerades, glasses of champagne clinking together, people swaying on the dancefloor with hands wandering sinful places when they thought no one was watching. Meanwhile Law had put his arm around your waist as you wandered around, making sure the two of you didn’t get seperated in the crowd, but also to give you discreet tapping signals when something caught his attention. 

Two taps and you search for his eyes, following them across the room to a group of important looking men huddled together. Another tap and you look over your shoulder, keeping an eye on what was going on behind you. For an outsider the two of you just looked like lovers, clinging to each other, exchanging glances and looking away shyly. You could feel your heart drumming in your chest, his tight grip on your hips making it hard for you to focus. Every now and then Law would lean down to you to whisper his observations in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making it extra hard to focus on anything he was saying. In fact, you started to feel dizzy from the noise, the stuffy air and your crush holding you in his arms. It was all a bit too much at once.

“You look like you could need some air, y/n-ya.”

Law looks at you slightly worried, using his teeth to take off one of his gloves despite you hissing at him not to – even though he looked very enticing doing so. He does it anyway, placing his hand in the back of your exposed neck to feel your temperature. Your eyes flutter wide open, startled from his bare skin on yours and a small gasp escapes your throat, only audible for Law. His golden eyes linger on you for a second and it feels as if he’s reading you like an open book; then he takes your hand without a word in his, guiding you across the room. He grabs a water bottle from the buffet as you’re passing it by and shortly after you step out through the huge open back doors into the garden.

The garden is as opulent as the castle but far quieter than the busy ball room, the music only muffled and only a few other people being outside, smoking, kissing, crying – some everything at once. Law doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re both in the shadows of an old tree, hidden from the eyes of others. You pull down your veil and take a deep breath in relief, leaning against the trunk while your captain hands you the water after opening the bottle for you. He musters you up and down and you’re unable to hold his gaze, still flustered from earlier where his lips almost touched your ear and his whispered words set your insides on fire. 

“What’s your diagnosis, doctor? Bad-nerves-syndrome?”, you ask jokingly between two sips, trying to gloss over the fact that your crush on him might be that oblivious.  “Luckily we found a cure for that.”, Law smirks, loosening up a bit now that you’re back to your old self again. Without ever admitting it, he was really worried about you earlier, feeling slightly regretful about dragging you on a mission like that.

He leans next to you against the tree, your shoulders touching and you find yourself scooting slightly closer, the back of your hands brushing. You take another glimpse at him in the safety of the dimly lit garden, admiring his side profile. If only he would lean in for a…

You freeze when he turns his head, looking at you with a grin. Could he read minds? Was this a function of his devil fruit powers you didn’t know about? Wait, was he hearing all of these thoughts now, too? 

“Change of plans, y/n-ya. We’re not going back in there.” You raise an eyebrow, looking at him quizzically. “We got a few clues about the whereabouts of the treasure map, let’s just search every room until we find it.”

And just like that Law takes your hand once again, guiding you deeper into the garden from where you got a good view of the whole building. His hands without the gloves on feel very warm, almost as if they were made for yours only, a perfect fit. Law pulls out a building plan and with all the clues you overheard during the evening you’re able to narrow down the vague whereabouts of the treasure map, giving you a dozen rooms in the upper stories to search. Just like two black cats the two of you blend in with night, sneaking inside the castle again, making your way through the crowd and into the long empty corridors. 

You couldn’t let your guards down just yet. Chances were high that you weren’t the only ones snooping around, it was a marines party after all. Some poor subordinates of the higher ranks would possibly be guarding the door, if not even the whole wing. But still… with Law’s hand in yours nothing felt impossible. You find yourself staring at his back again as you walk behind him, thinking once again what was underneath his big coat as you recall him coming out of the shower. Focus, you command yourself, but granted, it was hard, his close presence making your heart drum so loud in your chest.

Just when you’re about to walk around a corner, Law gestures to you with his index finger pressed to his lips to stay quiet. You could think of another way of how he could shut you up, though…

A few more seconds pass and the voices in the distance are getting quieter again, your sign to start moving as you both steal yourselves into the very first room. The door locks behind you silently. No light was burning, only the bright moonlight flooding through the high-ceiling windows.

“What is this room?”, you whisper, following Law on tiptoes as he walks in the center of it. “Why would one person own this many mirrors and then all store them in one room only? Who needs their private mirror cabinet?”

You both looked around, there were dozens of mirrors in all shapes and sizes arranged across the room, most of them seemed to be very antique and have probably seen various decades of people dancing, crying and falling in love in front of them. And now it was you and him; his golden eyes watching you from every corner, his gaze soft, lovingly almost. Somehow you felt exposed, as if he cut your heart out of your chest and inspected it from every angle, his name written all over it. 

His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer when he stands behind you, his hands slipping the feather coat off your shoulders, revealing the tattooed jolly roger on your back. You remembered the day you got the tattoo, how he cornered you in the morning, asking you if you were really sure about this and how you took his face in your hands and just nodded, your stern eyes leaving no room for doubt. Just like the ink under your skin the feelings for him wouldn’t go anywhere and if you couldn’t love him as a lover, you would love him as your captain, devoting everything you had to him, just to be by his side till the very end.

When he kisses the side of your neck, lips trailing down your shoulders, you hold your breath. If this was a dream, you never wished to never wake up from it. Your coat falls down to the floor with a thud, one of Law’s hands around your neck, tilting your head slightly to give him better access to your exposed skin, while his other hand brushes over your arm, giving you shivers. Every inch his lips touch feels like it’s burning, his breath hot on your skin. Thousand kisses plaster your skin through the mirrors, thousand hands wander over your body, thousand hearts drumming in your chest.

“Forgive me, y/n-ya…”, Law mumbles in the crook of your neck as he wraps his arms around you from behind. You sink into his hug, watching your figures through the mirrors; a king and a queen dipped in moonlight, love and desire painting their faces. 

“Forgive you for what?” Your voice is merely a whisper. It’s when your eyes meet through the reflections of the mirrors that you know.

Forgive me for falling for you. 

You turn around on tiptoes without leaving his embrace, your faces almost touching. Law’s eyelids flutter when you take his face into your hands, just like you did back then, his skin feeling soft and warm under your fingertips. Both of you knew what was about to happen. It was the crescendo of an intense night, almost as if it had been written in the stars for a very long time before this moment, only the moon and a thousand reflections being your witnesses. 

Your lips find his and you melt into a deep kiss, one that spoke louder than any words could ever have; it’s as if your whole body just sighs in relief, all the tension from before falling off your shoulders and being replaced with an unknown warmth, with the feeling of coming home, with hunger. 

Law has one hand buried in your hair, your bodies pressed together, neither of you daring to pull away. When he gives your hair a slight pull, a hoarse moan escapes your throat, making him chuckle softly before he kisses you again, his tongue slipping in your mouth. Whenever you opened your eyes a bit you could see your sinful reflection, your flushed cheeks, your eyes full of lust, your fingernails digging into his back when he pushes his leg between your thighs for you to grind on it.

You gasp when Law lifts you up with ease and carries you over to a dresser where he sits you down, pushing your legs wide open and you surrender, pulling your dress further up to reveal your soaked panties. He doesn’t touch you, but his eyes alone eat you up from every mirror.

“Such a naughty girl. How long have you been this wet for me?” His hands brush over your knees, fingertips drawing small circles on the inside of your thighs. “Since I took off your coat? Or in the garden already?” 

You whine softly when his grip around your thighs tighten, just as the knot in your stomach does, a familiar feeling begging for sweet release. Your head was spinning but you loved this; the way he ate you up with his gaze alone and the outlines of his cock throbbing in his pants, getting harder with every inch he explored of your body. You buck your hips against his touch, biting your lip when he firmly holds you in place, his strength out of this world. 

“Those desperate mewls coming from your cabin late at night… Are you thinking about me when you hump your pillow?”, he asks with a smirk, leaning over to kiss you hard once more, a thin thread of drool connecting you both when he pulls away. 

You grin as you place a hand on his chest, letting it slide down towards his waistband where your fingers linger for a few heartbeats, just like his hands do dangerously close to your dripping wet core.

“I sure do. Do you think of me too when you use my worn panties to masturbate?” Law’s eyes widened for a second. “It’s not like I leave them in the bath by accident when I know you’re going in there after me...”

And just like that Law leans in for another kiss, his lips clashing on yours as he takes your hand and places it on the fat bulge in his pants, grinding it against your palm. At the same time his other hand cups the aching arousal between your thighs, a hum escaping his throat when he finally feels how dripping wet you are for him, rubbing your cunt over the soaked fabric. Tiny shock waves shoot through your body when he starts circling your clit with his thumb, the tease almost being unbearable. 

Even though you wished this high would last forever, you were getting impatient, craving to feel him inside of you, to become one with him. You hastily unzip his pants, wasting no time when you slide them off his hips and watch his hard length bounce free, precum leaking from its tip. You couldn’t wait to be fucked into higher spheres by him. But first…

You slide to the edge of the dresser, lifting your hips to pull off your panties, black lace drenched in your juices. With your legs still spread, revealing your throbbing core, you pull Law in for another kiss, his golden eyes watching every single movement of yours. His soft moans fall broken out of his mouth when you wrap his cock in your panties, rubbing his tip through the lace, stroking him slowly but with a firm grip. 

“Is this how you do it when you’re alone?” You smile against his lips, enjoying how he melted under your touch, his breaths sharp. He nods slowly, seeking your gaze while you continue to squeeze him, speeding up the tempo of your pumps, your fingers brushing his pubic hair whenever your fist strokes down his whole length. You could tell he was about to cum any second, a king on the edge of his own universe; his cum spluttering over the lace and your hands like the milky way. Law leans against your shoulder, breathing heavily when you give his cock a few more slow pumps. 

“Oh my, so messy…”

Almost as if he was in for revenge his fingers touch your folds, spreading them wide open before they dip inside of you, making you moan quietly into his ear. You let go of your soaked panties, dropping them carelessly to the ground so you can wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep kiss. While he fingers you slowly, taking his time to explore you from the inside, you whisper his name over and over and it sounds like a confession, a broken record. 

“More…”, you whine and gasp when he adds a third finger, curling them up slightly and rubbing your g-spot so delicately it makes you want to cum on the spot. Instead you dig your nails deeper into his shoulders, leaning your head in the back of your neck, offering him all of you with your legs spread wide open. He kisses down your jaw and your neck, his tongue swirling over your skin, making you wish he would get on his knees for you. He will, eventually…

It’s when he wraps his other hand around your neck, waiting for you to nod slowly in agreement and then chokes you softly, that your orgasm rushes over you with an unknown intensity; your walls clenching hard around his fingers and tears pricking in the corner of your eyes as you laugh out loud, surprised by how fast the waves crashed down over you. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he fingerfucks you through your high, making you cry and chuckle at the same time until your legs slowly stop trembling and you catch your breath again. 

Law lets go of your throat and wipes away your tears, kissing your face before he licks your juices off his fingers with delight, grinning when you take his hand and pull it towards you, your tongue swirling around his fingers. He was hard again, his cock rubbing teasingly between your folds, your hot core aching for him. It still felt very much like a fever dream and you weren’t planning to wake up anytime soon. You slide off the dresser, your bodies pressed against each other. With a hand on his chest you’re pushing him back down gently, making him sit where your coat fell to the floor earlier, then you crawl into his lap, your dress still pulled up to your hips as you start grinding on his hard length.

Soft moans of yours fall into his open mouth, your foreheads pressed against each other as you exchange more deep glances, just like you did hours before; all leading to this moment. You feel like you could get drunk in his eyes, the brown speckle in his gold, your very own sun, soaking you up. You can feel his tip rubbing at your core, asking you for permission with his eyes.

“It’s fine, it’s safe”, you mumble and smile when Law grabs you by your hips, guiding you down slowly onto his cock. His fingers were nothing compared to the sensation of him stretching your tight entrance open little by little; you’re both taking your time, breathing heavily between a dozen kisses until you’ve taken him all in, thankful you were sitting down or else your legs would have probably given in from the intense feeling of him filling you up. Then he starts moving and through the mirrors you can see him fucking you from every angle, his cock thrusting relentlessly inside of you.

Being on top gives you the upper hand, commanding the tempo you’re bouncing up and down him, supported by his hands digging into the flesh of your ass. You’ve dreamt about this moment countless times and nothing could have prepared you for how amazing it felt becoming one with the one you loved the most. When Law starts circling your nipples with his tongue over the thin fabric of your dress, you can feel another orgasm building up inside of you, his stern gaze on you making you feel feral. You slide down the straps of your dress, letting him greedily pull it down so he can suck on your nippels in all their glory, his tongue fluttering over them, making them stand up under his touch.

Just when you were about to wail out Law’s name as you fell apart under his cock, you could hear footsteps and voices from the other side of the door. Fear shoots through your veins and it only takes a quick glance between Law and you for him to know what to do. The massive door gets pushed open the same second he uses his devil fruit powers to teleport you into the darkest corner of the room, where no moonlight touched the ground and massive mirrors blocked the view. Heavy boots step into the room, flashlights being pointed at the mirrors and sending beams of light against every wall.

Your captain is covering your mouth with one hand, his cock still buried deep inside of you, in the same position you were before he used his abilities to escape the marine guards doing their inspection round. It were at least three of them, discussing if they heard voices coming from inside and joking about how useless this room was, that only fucking in front of the mirrors would give it a real purpose. Your heart was beating heavy in your chest, the adrenaline rush making your head feel dizzy. You can’t make out Law’s face in the dark but you can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, even more than before. Without thinking you start moving your hips again, slowly, the risk of getting caught fucking making you so dripping wet, your juices running down the insides of your thighs. 

Law was holding his breath, unable to resist your greedy movements and he bites down your neck, trying to muffle his own moans. When you hear the footsteps coming closer in your direction, your walls clench hard around his cock, more tears pricking in the corner of your eyes as Law still holds your mouth shut, your drool dripping down his fingers. The thought of getting caught, of being exposed like that, almost pushed you over the edge of another orgasm, your fingers drawing circles on your plump clit, unable to stop. You can hear Law hissing out your name for your ears only as your tight walls contract around him erratically. 

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps wander off again, the marines talking about ghosts in this old building and how you could hear voices often, and then the door shuts closed behind them again, leaving the two of you alone again. Law and you hold still for a few heartbeats, then something snaps just in both of you. Your voice is hoarse when you whimper his name while he flips you on your back, forcing your legs wide apart as he keeps thrusting inside of you so hard and relentlessly, making your eyes roll in the back of your head. His hand slid down from your mouth to your throat again, choking you softly while he was seeking the warmth of your cunt, burying himself so deep inside of you, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

“Maybe I should have fucked you right away in that ball room, since you seem to enjoy an audience so much…”, Law huffs and laughs softly when you squeeze him tight in return, the thought alone making your head spin. “Showing everyone how well your greedy cunt can take my cock, you like that?”

You nod as you bite your lip, putting your hand on his to signal him to choke you harder until you could see tiny stars dancing in front of your eyes, and then there’s a whole universe erupting inside of you as you come undone, an orgasm like you never had before ripping through your body, sending shooting stars through every vein. You hear Law cursing as he pounds inside of you a few more times before he also cums with his whole body trembling, shooting his thick load inside of you. He lets go of your throat and leans down to kiss you hard as both of you still shake from your climax, your bodies tangled up. With your legs wrapped around his hips you ask him to stay like this a little longer, exchanging soft kisses as if he didn’t just rail you into another sphere. You smile when he brushes your hair out of your face, looking at you with kind eyes, so full of love.

You hum when you can feel his warm load running down your thighs, leaving a small puddle where you just laid. Law helps you stand up, your legs still a bit shaky from the adrenaline and your orgasms and you’re grateful for Law wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You rest your face against his chest, hearing his heart drum in his chest, a sound so soothing you can’t help but close your eyes. Until you remember–

“Shit! Law! The treasure map!”

Damn. All those horny thoughts have completely blocked out your mission, the one and only why you came here in the first place. How many more rooms did you have to search? And would he possibly go down on you in one of them? Would he fill up your other holes, too? Focus, you gotta focus… Law chuckles, looking at you with a triumphant smile. He reaches for the inner pocket of his coat, ruffling around for dramatic effect and pulls out a rolled piece of old paper, wrapped with a red seal. Your eyes widen in surprise and you’re at loss for words. When? How…?

“One of those marine dogs from earlier had it in his pocket. Guess they didn’t think someone with my devil fruit powers would show up and just switch it out with a candy wrapper.”

“You… you did all of that while fucking me? Balls deep inside of me?”, you ask flabbergasted, trying to comprehend what you just learned. Law nods and laughs when you grab him by his collar, letting you pull him into another kiss. “You’re so hot and clever, attaboy…”

In the end making it out of the castle was much harder than sneaking in – Law and you couldn’t keep your hands off each other; you went for another round in front of the mirrors with your legs in the air as he ate you out like a starved man, his tongue dipping inside of you from every reflection and you explored another room together that had chains hanging from it’s ceiling and in the very end Law made his promise of fucking you in the ballroom in front of everyone true in his own way, with a little help of his devil fruit powers… both of you walking out of the castle, your crowns askew and with love bites everywhere, his cum dripping out of you with your panties still in the mirror room, hand in hand, king and queen.

[bangtaninborderland]

JHS- Dancing In The Rain

The weather had been awful all week, sowozoo was coming up and you could see how tense all the members were regarding the possibility of a rainy day befalling them.

You couldn’t keep count of the amount of times you’d had a call from hobi who was once again asking you to inform him of the weather updates from the news channels on TV.

With just two days before the concert you were thankful your husband was home, resting. He had a tendency to overwork himself, something he had mentioned he found comfort from in you. You had made sure to cook him his favourite dinner which he complained about, arguing he needed to maintain his weight. However after giving him a glare he stopped his protests immediately, after a few minuets he was groaning about how good it tasted.

You were relaxed to see him smiling, at home it wasn’t something he did much of, of course that didn’t mean he was unhappy or your relationship was dull. It just meant that with you he felt that he could be everything he couldn’t with everyone else, he didn’t feel like he had to show you the perfect sides of him because you had always told him you believed every side of him was as perfect as the rest.

Once you’d cleaned up, something he had argued to do but you’d declined, you joined him on the bed. He was reviewing videos from his earlier dance practice with the members. You knew how important this time was for him so simply laid next to him, your head on his shoulder as his hand lazily grazed through your hair.

“Dove?” He whispered, pulling you from the precipice of sleep.

You winced as you opened your eyes, the light in the room too bright. “What’s wrong baby?”

“Do you want to go for a walk with me?” He smiled, slipping his jacket on.

It was rare that you two had the ability to go out with one another unplanned, of course you jumped at the chance. “Let me just brush my teeth and change, okay?”

“Take your time.” He kissed your jaw before retreating to the kitchen.

You checked the clock before slipping into the bathroom, it was only 8pm yet the city was dark. Illuminated only by the lights escaping from buildings and business around you.

You brushed your teeth and ran a brush through your hair before applying some sunscreen and tinted chapstick. You threw on a pair of black jogging bottoms much similar to hobis and a green sweatshirt that was most definitely hobis.

“Ready?” He asked, holding a hand out to you.

You walked over to him, your feet moving faster than your body could. “All ready.”

You secured your arms around his waist as he did yours. You let yourself relax against him, the sandalwood scent of his cologne a welcome comfort. “You smell so good.” You hum against him.

“I think taehyungie got me it for my birthday.” He laughed, pulling back to hand you your shoes.

“Well can you ask him to buy some more?” You pleaded, a grin stretching across your lips.

He breathed in harshly. “Ah, it was expensive babe.”

You deadpanned. “He is a literal millionaire.”

“I am too you know, I can buy my own cologne.” He defends, feigning a frown.

“Hobi you refused to order food because there was a double charge for the weather.” You tie your laces before dipping up your own coat, Hoseok stands behind you holding your hair to ensure none of it gets caught.

“I’m rich not dumb, besides it was sunny.” His hand rests on your hip, his fingers drawing along your waistband causing a shiver to run down your spine.

He must have notices as his hand moves completely, this time wrapping around your neck. “All mine.”

“All yours.” You whisper.

“Maybe I should just take you back to bed hmm?” His lips are rough against your own, him clearly dominating the kiss.

You barely manage out a strangled moan as he slips his other hand between your legs. It’s barely there a few seconds before he pulls away.

“Wha-?” You stand there, dazed and confused. Slightly upset by the sudden loss of contact.

He simply laughs, his fingers linking yours before he opens the door. “Let’s go beautiful.

“You’re so mean.” You whine taking a step outside, he follows behind you locking the door.

“So how has work been?.” You rest your head against his shoulder as you walk around the back road, it wasn’t accessible to cars and it was irregular for anyone to be around except other residents but neither of you wanted to risk it so you had both made sure to take the usual black face masks, you had chosen a cap whereas Hoseok has chosen to sport his green beanie.

He looked around before answering, it was something he did out of reflex. Not wanting to alert anyone of his identity. “It’s been okay, we have been practicing non stop. Namjoon-ah has been staying late to help anyone who needs it, the same goes for Jimin.”

You smiled at how thoughtful the boys were. When you had first met hobi there had been some worried about your intentions but that disappeared as quickly as it formed. You and the other members becoming fast friends. “You forgot to mention yourself in that list.”

“Hmm?” He questions, sliding his free hand into his pocket.

“You’ve been coming home late practically every day for the past month, I know how the others always favour your method of teaching for dance. They feel assured when dance captain Jung isn’t scolding them.” You laugh, peeking up at him.

He follows suit, his own gaze blazing into yours. A flush of red coloured your face, you thanked the face mask otherwise you would have been embarrassed. Despite the fact you were married you could never understand just how Hoseok was able to have such a strong effect on you, a mere look from the man was enough to bring you to your knees.

“I’m not that scary baby.” He chuckles, checking a message that’s come through on his phone.

“Do you ever see those videos army makes of your “dance captain glare?”

“I do, jungkookie showed me one a few weeks ago. I scared myself but I promise it’s not anger I just look like that when I concentrate.” He frowns, staring at his phone screen. “Jimin asked if you wanted to go to dinner with us all after the concert?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” You nod, watching his face as he replies. “Scary captain jung.” You squeeze his hand, letting him know that you wasn’t serious. Worried you upset him as his frown deepens. “What’s wrong?”

“Rain.” He pouts dramatically, holding his phone towards you. A few drops of rainwater had run across the screen. It was light enough to go amiss.

You stayed hopeful as you chimed “maybe it will just be a few drops, do you want to go home or should we go to the store?”

He looked up to the sky as of hoping for an answer on wether or not the scattered raindrops were going to come full force. “I guess we could go to the store, it will pass.”

“Forever hopeful, my hobi.” You giggle, kissing him against his cheek through the mask.

“You know I think the hardest thing about working so late is that I miss you, I worry sometimes even after all these years that you’ll decide it’s all too much.” He rubs his thumb against the back of your hand, something you were sure he did to reassure himself.

You slowed your pace. “I wonder something if I’m too little, if I don’t give you as much as you give me. I think I remind myself that outside all of who we are and what we do we are just people, you are my Hoseok and just that.” You come to a pause to pull your mask down as you do his, kissing him quickly before slipping them back on.

“That’s why I married you.”

“Because I’m amazing?” You raise an eyebrow, jokingly.

He shakes his head and you do your best to muster a disappointed sigh. “Don’t do that, of course you’re amazing. I married you because you are the only person in the entire world that can make me feel like Jung Hoseok. Of course it’s like that with the members but that’s different because they are the same as me. You aren’t, not society wise. You are just as incredible and strong, not to mention out of this world intelligent but before you I never got to be just Hoseok. The second I get home it’s like I’m a normal person.”

You let his words hang in the air for a few moments, wanting to respond in a way where he felt heard. You always tried to take time before talking about something so serious. Words that were truly meaningful deserved to be thought about carefully. You drew in a breath before beginning with. L”You are and always will be a normal person hobi, you’ll always be someone worthy of privacy and respect. People often think just because you have done amazing things that the ordinary person hasn’t that you have done unfair or outward look on life. I remember the day I met you, standing there absolutely lost in the car park with your security trying to usher me away. I remember arguing with them because I had just as much right to be there as you, on our first date I felt mortified i had acting that way. I was prepared to walk into that cafe and apologise but now looking back I don’t regret it.”

“Every single day you amazing me more, how did I become so lucky, I could have had everything in the world but none of it would have meant half as much if I didn’t have you.” He brings his palm to your face, caressing your cheek. It was a small act of affection, it wasn’t something you did much of in public for obvious reasons but this was always special, intimate. A wordless way to say I love you.

You were 20 minuets away from the late night convenience store when the storm hit fully, you had huddled underneath the stores cover hoping it would pass but it didn’t and soon enough the space became too crowded that you were forced to move.

Hobi had tried to give you his jacket to cover yourself but you declined, slipping you hand into his before beginning to run, he followed along his legs matching your pace as you skated along the streets, you were both soaked but it didn’t matter. The echos of your laughter as you ran past people down to the backstreet was joyous. You were thankful you were able to keep up with Hoseok, his stamina much better than yours.

Sure enough your running turned to a jog and then to a light walk as you both panted, the rain still pounding against you both. “I can’t breathe.” Hoseok pants, reaching for the water bottle he had brought a mere five minuets ago.

He drank half before passing it to you which you accepted without question. You stood for a few minuets trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest and your lungs from exploding before Hoseok pulled his hand into yours.

“What are we doing?” You giggle as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He checks around once again before pulling his face mask down along with yours. His smile warming you instantly. “Dancing in the rain.”

“Hobi you’ll get sick.” You decline, not wanting to risk putting him at an inconvenience right before the concert.

“We can worry about that tomorrow, right now I want to dance with my wife. I want to kiss her in the streetlights. I want to hear her tell me she loves me. Is that too much to ask?”

“Never.” You lean in to press your lips against his as you both sway, there was no music and you doubt this could even be considered dancing but you didn’t care.

The rain could fall four hours, it could thunder and flood but nothing could make you move. Nothing could steal you from this beautiful moment. Your husband laughing as he twirls you around in a manner that makes you feel like some princess, you blushing as he compliments you like he is trying to win you. It’s one you know will be told as a story for years to come.

You’d always talked about children, you both wanted them. You couldn’t wait to tell them the story of how their mother and father crazily danced in the rain at 9pm whispering confessions of love to one another.

After all, everyone loves a romance novel.

[quotergirl19]

Penelope found herself promenading and talking with her “friend,” Colin about her three suitors and objectifying them a teensy bit, which is torture for Colin.

Penelope: I have heard it said that Mr. Anderson been on many exotic hunting expeditions. How brave and fearless one must be to hunt only the most dangerous beasts. I cannot imagine another gentleman of the ton his equal. Not with his aim and protective instincts. Were I his wife, I would be safe from marauding minotaurs even if he didn’t have a gun handy. I stumbled during promenade with him yesterday and he caught me as though I were as light as a feather. It was quite stirring.

Colin: Are you blushing Pen?

Penelope: Do not mock me, I am sure you think it silly but I have never felt delicate before. And I did in his arms. He only held me for a moment but he was so strong. It… it was nice and he smelled good which I rarely notice about gentlemen.

Penelope: Colin are you flexing your arm muscles?

Colin was most definitely flexing his muscles.

Colin: Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. Mr. Anderson is hardly the only gentleman with strong arms and soap in town. Besides there are more important things to consider.

Penelope: Well of course, though were I a man I would simply pick the option I find most pleasing to look at, and certainly the most handsome option is Mr. Dankworth.

Colin: Good God Penelope, did he not just risk his life riding a hot air balloon contraption last year. The man is a reckless fool. You’ll be widowed within the year.

Penelope: How can you be so unkind. Are you not the very man who went on a world tour alone? How can you be so critical of that man’s small adventure?

Colin: I am merely concerned that you might become blinded by some small things that you have learned of these gentlemen and that you might choose someone who will not make you happy.

Penelope: I have three charming, handsome and strong options. One of them is even titled! My mama is quite set on Lord Debling. She insists I must, “display my assets,” for him.”

Colin: What the hell does she mean by that?

Penelope: I shall leave that to your imagination, but let’s just say that she had the modiste lower the necklines of all my dresses this season. And if you truly cannot infer my meaning, you should know I’ve been instructed by my mama to stand straight with my chest out and fan my bosom whenever he is present… to draw his eye.

Colin: Penelope that is shameless. You are a lady!

Penelope: What I am is a woman in need of a husband Colin, and I will do what I must to tempt and snag my man. Once I know which of these men will offer me the best possible future, I will learn what my intended likes, and I shall make it clear that I intend to please him in any way I possibly can in the hopes that he will like me and aspire to make me happy as well.

Colin: Any man would be lucky to call you his, Penelope. There is no finer woman in all the world.

Penelope: What a compliment to give the only woman you have never flirted with.

Colin: Did you want me to flirt with you Pen?

Penelope: Are you mad? I would never dream of flirting with Colin Bridgerton.

Colin: I shall never live that down, I see.

Penelope: Not in your wildest fantasies.

Just then Penelope stepped on a small stone which turned her ankle just enough to make her stumble and Colin immediately caught her in his surprisingly strong embrace.

Colin: Miss Featherington, would it be scandalous to flirt with you when you are already in my arms.

Penelope: I am not in your arms because of your flirting, and you should let me go before someone sees us like this.

Colin: Let them look, I quite like the way you blush while I hold you. How do I smell compared to Mr. Anderson?

Penelope: You are incorrigible Mr. Bridgerton. Besides you always smell the same to me. Like a mix of soap mixed with sandalwood and sometimes whiskey. Which I don’t normally like but…

Colin: Don’t tell me you like the way I smell.

Penelope: I would never insult you with such a bold compliment. Now please release me, it was only a pebble under my shoe, it is not as though I just swooned in your arms.

Colin: Do I have to? You smell so nice and in this position I have the most spectacular view of your… assets.

At this Penelope gasped, then turned beet red and then they both broke into infectious laughter. Colin set her upright again and they decided to walk a little longer, Penelope’s arm held snuggly by Colin’s and he told her he would have to take every opportunity to flirt with her now. Because he couldn’t remember ever having such fun flirting with another woman. Something about making Penelope blush and smile and laugh delighted Colin and he was determined to see her light up for him as much as he could, for as long as he could. Maybe even for forever.