#gonna eat a cup of dirt

[watchyourbuck]

it’s the contrast from Buck’s real parents in the front looking upset and disappointed,,,, to Buck’s adoptive parents in the back, looking joyous and proud.

frames people,,, frames.

[singedbutter]

Gay as heck

[wawataka]

yeah i’m terrified of my dad but if he gets sad i’m boutta be devastated

[sunsetsimon]

blue collar simon ♡ because i'm going insane

pt 2 here

☼ he's waking up around 4:30am most days, due to starting at a new job site that gives him a longer commute. he's grumbly when his alarm blares, quickly turning it off and sitting on the edge of the bed for a minute to stare off and come to. his footsteps are quiet as he heads to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and giving his face a rinse to clear it from sleep. simon makes sure to keep his hair short, only needing to run his fingers through it to tame a few wild pieces that stick up on the side.

☼ most mornings you get up with him, his alarm waking you up even with as quickly as he turns it off. "go back t'sleep love," he leans over, cupping your cheek lovingly as you try to blink the sleep out of your eyes.

"gonna pack your lunch si," you say, so quietly he almost doesn't hear you. he knows better than to argue though, you're already up and nothing is better than having you help him get ready for his long day.

you slip on one of his hoodies on your way downstairs, practically swimming in the fabric as it rests on your mid thighs, hands covered in the long sleeves. his heart swells, you look so cute when you're tired and stubborn, refusing to let him leave without a proper lunch.

☼ he's not able to talk much throughout the day with how busy he is. sometimes you only get a quick 2 minute call while he's scarfing down his lunch, complaining about how their project manager was being a dick that day.

"'right babe. gettin' back to it so i'll call you when i'm leaving, whenever the fuck that'll be."

"okay si. i love you, be careful."

"always am. love you."

sometimes you get lucky with a random picture of something on the site, having no idea what it is you can only respond with a "what am i looking at?"

"fuckin' dumbass rookie can't mark out a straight line to save his fuckin' life."

whatever the hell that means. simon thinks it's funny though.

☼ comes home with new cuts and bruises everyday, the wrap on one of his fingers soaked with dirt and blood. his hands are cut up and scarred, calloused and rough to the touch but you still love them, those hands provide everything for you. you're constantly having to remind him to clean under his nails after a long day though, refusing to be touched until they're squeaky clean.

☼ he never gets home at the same time, a supposed-to-be 10 hour shift can quickly turn into a 12 or 13 depending on how much work needs to be done. not a week goes by when he doesn't have overtime, and though he makes a lot of money, he's fucking exhausted when he gets home. lazily unlacing and kicking his boots off at the door while coming in, practically with a limp, his knees and feet fighting to not give out from pure exhaustion.

still finds the energy to shove his dirty hands under your shirt though when he catches you at the stove preparing him a plate. his unkempt stubble scratches your neck as he inhales your clean, addicting scent. planting soft kisses along the skin, you almost melt into him until you smell him, dust and sweat clouding your nose.

"ugh simon! you can't be all over me while you're dirty," you whine, trying to pull away from his tightening grip on your hips.

"can't help it when y'look so damn good. missed you all day," he grumbles, pulling your ass back against his growing bulge in his work pants, thrusting against you through layers of clothing.

"eat and take a shower first, then we can talk," you give him another shove - much to his dismay. apparently he wasn't as tired as he thought.

[wileys-russo]

two wheels II l.williamson

"-so this time, i'm gonna let go." you warned as leah tensed, knuckles turning white as she gripped the handlebars like they could fall off at any second. "no you're not." the blonde shook her head frantically as you bit back a smile.

"yes lee, I am."

the two of you stood together in a vacant lot behind the adidas training centre, leah only agreeing to the lessons so long as no one would be able to see her.

you knew she’d copped a lot of schtick after the last bike incident and as much as she brushed it off and laughed and joked, you knew it got to her.

which is what lead to these little private lessons so that you could help her build up her confidence while not making it obvious she was lacking in any. your girlfriend was an incredibly proud and stubborn woman wether she wanted to admit to it or not, so you knew the only way she’d agree would be if these were kept a secret from everyone else.

there was a thin dirt road that lead in and out of the tennis courts from the rest of the complex, but most of your team mates tended to use the main paths out front so it was unlikely anyone would come through and interrupt the two of you this time of day.

the private lessons also meant leah had to skip afternoon tea which you knew she was not happy about, but none the less she’d begrudgingly agreed. even if it had also meant the entire team assuming the two of you had snuck away for some ‘private time’ but those jokes rolled over the two of you like water, you’d been together for years and leah had no issue discussing just how much she adored you.

"leah. my love you're going to be fine, you've got this alright? just pedal." you affirmed calmly, sounding leagues more confident in her than leah actually felt. her knees began to knock and her forehead was prickled with sweat, her brows knitted together in a frown of grave concern.

all the flashbacks of what happened in america were flipping through her head like an old movie she couldn’t turn off, but leah did her best to just zone in on you and your voice and block everything else out.

so finally getting the older girls cautious nod of approval you began to run, hands wrapped tightly on the cool metal of the bike as leah started to pedal furiously.

"okay lee, go!" you shouted, releasing your grip on both leah and the bike, lips curling into a smile as leah relentlessly pumped her legs.

"baby you're doing it!" you cheered proudly, launching your fists into air with a yell of approval. leahs laughter echoing around the air at the surprise that she was actually riding a bike.

the defenders face spread into a shit eating grin as she sped up, heading away hard and fast from the place you’d started in.

sprinting off after her your own laughter echoed around, bouncing off the trees and raining down around leah as a smile built on the older girls face, reality whizzing past her in a chaotic blur of greens, blues and browns as she ventured further out into the complex.

"go on, you're really doing it! you're riding a bike again lee!" you hopped onto a nearby bench and cupped your hands over your mouth, yelling out proudly after your girlfriend, who made the unfortunate mistake of glancing over her shoulder with a wolfish grin at your encouragement.

the blonde suddenly careered left toppling over at high speed, both her body and the bike skidding sideways along the road before coming to an abrupt halt.

"oh shit she's not doing it!" your eyes widened at the crash before scrambling off of the fence post you'd climbed onto and racing over.

"love are you okay?" you asked breathlessly, eyes wide with worry as you dropped to her knees beside her. "fucking hell that hurt." leah managed to groan out, pushing the bike off of her and slowly sitting up.

"well, you were riding a bike." you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, biting down on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.

"don't." leah warned seriously, face twisted into a grimace of pain, holding her leg where a large gash had opened, training sweats ripped in bloodied tatters around her right knee.

"i'm not." you lied, cheeks sucked in to hold back your amusement as even leah's own lips began to twinge into a ghost of a smile, and with one shared look both your resolves cracked.

your combined laughter encompassing the space around you you fell onto your back, holding your stomach which was beginning to hurt from laughing so hard. leah laid down beside you laughing just as much, both of you reaching out to find one anothers hands.

"oh baby you were going so well!" you managed to get out as your chest heaved, taking shallow breaths to try and control your amusement.

"yeah till my fucking body and the ground decided to become acquainted." leah groaned out, holding her sides which burned both from the fall and her laughter. your bodies still vibrating with amusement you heaved yourself onto your stomach, crawling over to her and picking the leaves from her hair.

"i love you." you smiled, laughter ceasing into small giggles as you ducked down and feverishly kissed her, leahs hands wrapping around your back and holding you tightly.

"most of the time you would use your brakes to stop though, not your body." you pulled away and corrected seriously, leah throwing her head back with a bark of laughter and a groan as you pulled a twig off her training top.

"oh god babe please stop making me laugh, it hurts!"

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

before anyone sends me asks about it yes this is an edited/updated repost of mine! no it’s not plagiarised unless i’m stealing from myself

[acapelladitty]

Cooper gives big sub energy if you open your eyes wide enough, don't you think ditty?

A/N: Maybe not sub energy but please enjoy this little thing where Cooper is forced to eat his partner out for being an ass. (1.7k words)

(tw: face sitting, orgasm, oral sex, dirty talk, threat of violence, biting, come marking, playful snark, mild violence)

Call Out Loud For You

Link to AO3 series

Fic Masterlist

Standing at the foot of the large cot which you had both decided to claim as 'home' for the night, your hands felt heavy on your hip as you held your ground against the smug ghoul who lounged against the threadbare sheets.

It had been a rough day. A bounty hunt very quickly went sideways as an isolated raider turned out to be very non-isolated indeed. And his friends weren't willing to give him up without a fight. But, as always, when the dripping blood finally settled and the missing limbs had been counted, it was Cooper and yourself who emerged the victors.

But still.

He had been a prick about it.

"Apologise." You demanded, wounded pride making you determined to get at least that out of him.

Sucking his lips in to unleash a short whistle, Cooper was unrepentant.

"Ain't got nothing to apologise for, so I won't be wasting the words."

His arm is raised overhead, nude body laying out utterly shameless and reddened against the pale sheets. A rogue chain had caught him across the outer thigh and the marks there would take days to heal. Your efforts to help with the injury had been swiftly rebuffed as he realised you were still looking for an apology and he had instead elected to strip off and drop to the cot, claiming it as his own.

For someone who was so vilified and hated due to his appearance, it sure didn't seem to bother him when it suited his mood.

Deprived of your own clothes due to the sweltering heat of the approaching night, you stood before him with equal pride - refusing to back down.

He knew he was in the wrong.

Those little affectionate brushes against your back and casual grabs at your body that had punctuated throughout the day after the doomed raid had screamed his unspoken guilt. But his stubbornness was maddening.

As was how horny his little games had made you.

Fuck it.

You were getting yours, one way or another.

"You always told me that the only thing we get in the world is what we're willing to take."

Proclaiming the sage words from a scowling face, you throw the advice back at him like a horse kicking up dirt.

"That I did."

"Then lie your stupid ass flat out on that cot. Arms by your sides and legs straightened out."

Surprise crosses his face for only a moment before being swiped away by something lecherous as his right hand drops to cup at his cock, the thick length laying half-hard against his upper thigh.

"I don't see how riding this old stallion is going to get your point across but I ain't complaining."

Shaking your head as you climb into the cot, your body slithers up his own like a serpent coiling in the desert heat until you can straddle his waist - making a point to ignore his cock as you sit above it.

"I'm gonna sit on your face and you're gonna eat me out until I forget that I'm mad at you. You're going to treat my cunt like it's your last supper before they execute your stubborn ass."

Narrowing his brow, the missing hole where his nose should be flaring as he inhaled, Cooper shook his head with a somewhat playful defiance; most of his fire having been extinguished by your soft body atop his as his hands immediately flew to your hips and groped at the flesh there.

"The hell I am. That sounds like a sorry to me, darli-"

Your hand makes a resounding crack as it collides with his hollowed cheek. On a regular man, it would leave a livid mark, but on Cooper - his skin already a darker shade than anything you could accomplish - it is truly undetectable.

What is slightly more detectable is the sly smirk which curls at the corners of his ragged lips and the way his pupils seem to dilate as he inhales sharply once more.

"Oh, it's like that is it."

"Damn right." Running your thumb across the ridge of his cheek, neatly atop the area which you had just slapped, you enjoy the rough sensation of his skin against your own as his hands increase their grip of you. "And if I hear any more backtalk then I'll just smother you. End of all my problems."

A thoughtful hum rumbles past his throat, and you feel it through your palm as you spread your fingers across his chest.

"Not the worst way I've died." Cooper admits. "Alright, darlin', hop on. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Shuffling forward, your inner thighs burn as they swipe across his collarbone in their efforts to position yourself so that his face - eyes burning in the shadows of their sockets - was in a prime position to service your eager sex.

"Might be the last meal you get, handsome." Sighing out the words, you spread your knees wide as you take the time to ensure your own comfort. "So don't waste it."

His response is too low for you to pick up properly, the syllables more a growl than anything else, but you can hear the bitchy quality to his tone as he dutifully pushes his mouth up to brush along your cunt.

He immediately sets out to punish you for that earlier slap, sucking at your folds with his lips and teasing the skin with blunted teeth. It's a lot and your fingers curl against the wall which the head of the cot sits against as you resist the urge to press down harshly on his face.

He seems to be enjoying himself though, his tongue licking a sordid line from your hole to your clit in one solid stripe.

"Fuck, Cooper-" You whine, legs tightening around his shoulders as his tongue grazes your clit; a sensation which sends lightning up your spine as your body tenses involuntarily.

Knowing he hit a good spot, he repeats the feat. His roughened lips add a cruel intensity to his movements as he suckles at your most sensitive nerves. It's hot and intense and too fucking much-

Grinding your cunt down onto his face, you momentarily mourn his lack of nose as an amusing image of being able to swipe yourself across it for extra stimulation flits through your mind.

His tongue would do though and you press your cunt against his mouth with vigour, forcing him to abandon your clit and refocus his attention on your hole. You're already painfully wet, his tongue lapping up more moisture than it was providing, and you feel him growl against your sex as he tastes you properly.

A vicious cry slips free of your throat as he disobeys your earlier demands and his calloused hands wrap around your inner thighs, pulling your lips apart to allow him easier access to his apology. His skin is hot as hell, the leathered texture as delightful as ever as his mouth messily latches on to your skin - sucking, biting, licking, and teasing every possible inch of you until your words are broken and incomprehensible.

A sharp pain makes you cry out and you feel the full ache of a bite radiating from your inner thigh, the skin unbroken but no doubt soon to bruise due to the hard treatment. The dual sensation makes your head swim as the pressure of arousal builds in your cunt.

Discomfort and pleasure.

Ecstacy and pain.

Pure Cooper in his most concentrated form.

Nearing completion, you can't help the bucking of your hips as he struggles to hold you into place - your cunt grinding on his mouth and chin as you chase that high.

"Fuck, Cooper. Just so- so fucking good. Need to do this- FUCK- do this more. Put that mouth to good, ugh, use."

It's a babble and a mess. Words stuttering and pitching as his lips find your clit once more and his tongue flicks against the engorged nub, sending you careening over the edge of the abyss.

Hands scrambling against the wall as your orgasm hits, the hot pleasure cascades through your body in waves - tensing and relaxing your frame in sync as you press down on his face. Without much choice, he swallows everything, his busy tongue refusing to let up its devouring of your cunt as your thighs clench around his skull.

Earlier musings blown to the side, you take a moment to appreciate that his nose was missing as your frantic jerking across his face would have probably broken it in several places. You ride your orgasm out against him, allowing him time to breathe when he earns it as his face skilfully tilts to the side to pull in sharp intakes of air.

Eventually the tension in your legs dies out and your cunt grows too overstimulated to be fully enjoyable and you push your hands off the wall, forcing your cum-soaked thighs to slip along his chest once more as you collapse to the side of him.

His face is a sight. The raw-looking skin glistened in the low light as his mouth and chin remain covered by your mess. His eyes were bright, piercing through your relaxed features as you wrap your leg around his own - marvelling at the temperature difference.

"Not bad, old timer."

Blissed out by his efforts, your attitude was much more amicable and to show your forgiveness, you lazily grip at his cock; the length rock hard and visible leaking pre-cum due to his own untouched arousal.

Deciding that maybe he did deserve a treat as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his scarred hand - bringing the collected mess to his mouth for a final taste - you run the pad of your thumb across the flared head of his livid cock in a playful tease.

"Let's see if we can do something about this little problem here."

"Little?"

Cooper's voice came roughly, his own aggression mellowed out by how visibly pleased you were with his efforts.

Still, he couldn't resist the bait.

"Not that little, I gotta say." You reply. "In fact, maybe I should return the favour and-"

Trailing off, you wetten your lips with your tongue and make a lurid sucking noise, something obscene and nasty, as your thighs press together gently.

It's not really that much of a surprise when his hand moves like lightning, snaring around your neck and pushing your head towards his cock while a faint yet familiar smirk sits on the corners of his lips.

It was your turn after all.

[leonsdoll]

SUMMER BUMMER • 🦢

warnings: smut, unprotected piv sex, some aftercare, ur sarah's best friend, age gap, no use on y/n, petnames (baby, sweetheart) reader is legal!!!!!!!!!

word count: 1.1k

notes: first time posting smut about a man please pray for me chat😔

it started as innocent eye contact, winking and some occasionally suggestive jokes, that's all it was, yet it grew into something more when you found yourself straddling your best friend's dad, his lips ghosted yours and before you knew it you were making out, yours lips moved in synch, you started to grind your core against his clothed thigh, he pulled away and stopped your hips, 'not today, but...soon' you giggled and nodded

you waited for that day, you would always find excuses to go over early or forget something and have to go pick it up when sarah wasn't home, and you always found yourself on top of him with your lips pressed against his . you would promise each other that you would stop but you couldn't, it was like an addiction, to the rush and to him, it was something you both needed

the air was hot and sweat dripped down your neck, you were outside gardening with sarah, she has just recently bought some new flowers that needed to be planted, so when she asked you to help of course you accepted . you were wearing some short jean shorts and a tank top, you had slipped on some comfortable shoes, as you dug a hole in the dirt you heard the front door open, joel had brought out two glasses of lemonade

'here you go girls' he placed it on the table on the porch, you rushed over to it, feeling dehydrated, you quickly drank it, not leaving on drop, joel watched you and chuckled . 'you want more?' he stood behind you with his hands on your shoulders, you shook your head and turned around, 'no, m'good, thank though' he patted your shoulder and nodded before heading back inside

the day went on and you spent it all at sarah's house, by the time you had finished gardening and school work it was around dinner time, joel had suggested you stay for dinner, you accepted and helped prepare the food, it was the least you could do . you all sat down at the table, joel choosing to sit next to you, you wondered why but you didn't think to much of it

as you ate your food you felt a hand creep onto your thigh, you almost froze, yet you didn't because you knew who's it was, you looked down and saw joel's large hand gripping and massaging your thigh, you acted like nothing was happening, choosing to ignore the feeling of yourself growing wetter, you continued the conversation and eating, because once again nothing was happening

you helped clear the table and wash the dishes with sarah, you watched some tv with her, choosing a movie you'd already seen hundreds of times, joel sat by you two, reading a book, sarah felt herself get tired, she yawned, 'hm, i think I'm gonna go to bed' she spoke, you nodded your head, 'me too, I guess I'll get going' before you could fully stand up to leave joel put his book down and pulled you back down on the couch, 'or you could sleep over here tonight'

you thought about it, was it a good idea? no, not at all, we're you going to stay? yes, yes you we're . 'okay sure' you beamed, you and sarah headed to her room, she gave you a blanket and some pillows so you could sleep on the ground . she quickly fell asleep, you on the other hand couldn't sleep at all, maybe it was the uncomfortable floor or maybe it was the ache between your legs, you tossed and turned until you got up

you walked downstairs in only a tank top and boxers, you thought joel would be asleep too yet you found him sitting on the couch watching some mediocre show, you sat down next to him, sighing and turning your head towards him, 'can't sleep?' you shook your head, 'so you came down here, because you couldn't sleep? no other reason?'

'well I thought maybe you could help me...' he chuckled, 'and how would I do that?' you moved closer to him, straddling his lap, 'dunno actually...' he cupped your face with his hands and brought you into a rough kiss, 'i have an idea baby, you just lay back' he said between kisses, you ran your hand up and down his arm, giving his bicep a quick squeeze . he gripped your hips as you grinded on to his thigh, he laid you down, 'are you sure you want this' he questioned, 'yes, I am, I want you joel' you whined

'fuck' he mumbled, he began to unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants down, you could see his hardened member though his boxers, he leaned down to kiss you, as you sloppily made out he pulled down your boxers, he slipped his fingers onto your heat, feeling how wet you we're, 'this all for me sweetheart?' you nodded, he chuckled and pulled his boxers down

he pumped his cock a couple times before lining his tip up with your cunt, he slowly slipped into your hole, the stretch stinging but feeling amazing, you shut your eyes and moaned, a little too loud for his liking, he covered your mouth with his hand, 'shh shh' he cooed . he started to rut his hips, his cock pumping in and out of you, your jaw flung open and your eyes rolled to the back of your head

he fucked into you, his tip abusing your poor cervix, with every thrust a small whine escaped your mouth, and he heard and appreciated every one of them . he continued his ruthless pace, grabbing your hips and slamming into you, your back arched and bit your bottom lip, you felt a knot in your stomach grow and he could tell you were close by the way you were clenching around him

'come baby, c'mon' he gently slapped your thigh, with his action you came all over his cock, he could see a ring of your nectar forming around the base of his shaft, with how tight you were clenching around him he spilled his seed deep inside you, he let out a low grown as his orgasm washed over him . he regained his breath and sighed, he pulled out and fixed himself up before rushing into the bathroom

you were too fucked out to tell he was gone but soon you felt a warm wet washcloth wipe your cunt clean, he pulled your boxers back up and grabbed a cover for you, he laid it on top of you and kissed your forehead as you drifted off into a deep sleep .

[morosluvbug]

let me take care of you - haikyuu characters

ft. kita, osamu, bokuto

⊹ genre - sugary fluff hcs

⊹ gender neutral reader

⊹ synopsis - reader is sick ohhh noo

⊹ A/N - period cramps are kicking my ass so im projecting my haikyuu faves taking care of me please help.

. shinsuke kita

"Your troubles are mine, let me take care of everything."

he is the best at taking care of you no contest, and knows exactly what to do and what your recovery timeline will look like.

he is a tiny bit scared of getting sick. the man has a routine he needs to follow and cannot allow himself to get sick!

still so attentive though, he will just be approaching with a mask. loves you too much to stay away!!

has tea constantly running, a meal schedule planned out, and will not let you leave the bed unless it is crucial to your health to go on walks to rebuild strength.

still has to attend to the rice farm!! but makes sure you are okay before he leaves and frequently checks in when he gets the chance.

very honest about the timeline of your recovery, especially if it's a nasty virus. but praises you so much, will constantly soothe your worries and tell you everything will be okay.

he just loves you so bad. he will soothe any muscle aches, prepare any cold/hot pads, do anything to make sure you are as happy as possible, and just wants to comfort you in any way he can.

runs you warm baths and will wash your hair and scrub you down, even going as far as helping you with your skincare (oh I need him). leaves you with his shirt since he will be gone most of the day.

will be giving you a sad puppy look when you're feeling particularly horrible. he just wants to take it all away :(

. osamu miya

"Give me your hand, we'll get through this together."

you tell him not to come near you, he still has a restaurant to run and can't afford to risk getting sick and serving people!

this man. he is not scared of getting sick. he definitely built his immune system through eating dirt with atsumu or something when they were little.

trust he will be glued to your side, he's the boss of Onigiri Miya! he's gonna take the time off and leave a detailed list of how to do everything for his employees, with his number left ONLY for emergencies.

if he does end up having to run to Onigiri Miya, he will be speed running getting down to the store, getting the issue solved, and running back home with anything you want as an apology.

you might be able to catch him on the phone with his mom while you're fading in and out of consciousness. he's trying his absolute best to treat your ailment :(

he will cook anything you want, tries to stick to a strict plan of soups and proteins but if you really want something specific he will fold automatically.

sits around and watches any movies or tv you want. he is so whipped he will run to get any sweets or takeout you want.

he will definitely call kita if he is really stressed about your health. he just wants the best for you and that comes before everything, even his pride.

not scared to kiss you or cuddle you, despite any protesting on your side of things to stay away.

he is so firm about you resting up as much as possible, this man will be sprinting down the hallway for anything as small as a cup of water.

overall, he makes the whole process really easy. will not allow any tears to be shed and wants his partner to be happy

. kotaro bokuto

"let me ease your worries, we'll beat this in no time! "

oh, poor bokuto. he has no idea what he's doing.

sad bokuto on the phone with akaashi and kiyoomi every five minutes. he loves you so bad but probably has 1) never had to take care of someone 2) has never had to take care of himself

if you live together at this point, he has anything that you've bought in the past. but if you're spending time at his place. oh, good luck!

he’s just a bit silly is all. knows nothing about medicine or foods you should be eating.

he is not scared of getting sick and DEFINITELY gets sick with you. but he isn't bothered at all, it does just mean more time with you after all.

he tries his best overall, will carry you everywhere (even when he gets sick) will try to cook and will entertain you as much as possible.

you might. have to sit with him in the kitchen while he cooks for you both. even if it's just him heating up canned soup and pouring it into a cup. please help him.

kisses you and holds you and and and

similar to osamu, he is wrapped around you the whole time, this man is glued to your side. he has molded himself to your very being. if you leave to go to the restroom he will be pouting. throwing a fit every time you leave.

he just tries to make you laugh and tries to comfort you :( capitalize on this moment because he spoils you so bad while you’re sick !! if you thought he spoiled you before oh no. he will be buying you any plushy he even thought you might like.

you want him to read for you? done. want your nails painted but are too weak? consider it done. want him to juggle random household objects for you? they might end up broken but he'll try.

overall: wants you to be happy. he’s so silly but so love-stricken that anything you want from him he will do.

reblogs notes and replies are appreciated!! <3

A/N. first fic in a long time hope you enjoyed my shitty hcs ^_^

[doki-doki-imagines]

I loved your post about the boys mk1 x pregnant reader.

I had an idea with that :D

The reader has strange food cravings. She offers the Lin Kuei and Shang Tsung trio whatever she is eating and they accept so as not to make her feel bad.Ignore this if you don't want to <3

Bi-Han: -Okay, he woke up in the middle of the night to make you boiled cauliflower with ketchup. -Bi-Han knows that pregnancy can do this stuff, that's why he cooks for you with no problem. -"Please, try this. It's scrumptious." -But Bi-Han isn't insane. -He tells you that he'd never eat that. He'd rather eat wood. -But…are those tears in your eyes. Just because he doesn't want to eat that abomination? -"Fine." Bi-Han grumpily says, picking up the cauliflower with his chopsticks. "Don't forget the sauce!" He looks at you with death in the eyes before nodding and dipping the vegetable in the ketchup. -It is as terrible as it looks. -Don't say ever again he doesn't love you.

Kuai Liang: -He is a little soldier ready to satisfy your every command. -So when you ask him for spicy chips with vanilla ice cream, Liang didn't even bat an eye, ready to buy everything you asked for. -"Wanna try?" Here the problem starts. -How is he gonna tell you that he'd rather eat dirt than vanilla ice cream? -Well, in a way or another, he does. Your eyes get wide and Liang is ready to placate the crying crisis he feels it's coming. -But you just shrug "Good. More for me." -The sigh of relief he left out was big enough to close the door of your shared bedroom.

Tomas Vrbada: -"Chocolate cream and carrots?" "Yes, Tommy. I need it more than oxygen right now." -Tomas had to ask because he wasn't ready to hear that request first thing in the morning. -He brings your food back fairly quick, a little cup with chocolate cream in one hand and another with sliced carrots in the other. -"Wanna try?" You tell him, a bit of chocolate on the corner of your lips. Tomas nods, not before brushing away the chocolate on your lips with his thumb and sucking it. -"This…is actually good." He whispers out. "Told you." -If he wasn't that bad for his diet, he'll indulge in this new "dish" more often.

Shang Tsung: -"You woke me up because you want sausages with jam?" He looks at you, bedhair, and a bit of drool sticking on his chin. You nod. "Goodnight." Shang Tsung turns around and goes back to sleep. -You'll have to whine and beg a lot if you want your husband to bring you food. -No way he'll dirty his hand in the kitchen so he will ask someone else to make it for you. -"Do you wanna try?" For a second, you thought he was going to steal your soul. "Don't play with fire, dove." Shang Tsung says, pinching your cheek. -While you finish your food, he is already back asleep.

[meowmeowriley]

"You're giving me flowers, Johnny?" Ghost looked at the potted yelllow plant in Soap's hands.

Soap looked slightly flustered. "'s not what you think," he mumbled. "'s just a dumb joke. Lost a bet."

"What bet?" Ghost fought the hurt from reaching his eyes. He didn't want to show that he'd gotten his hopes up about getting flowers from his Johnny.

"Y-you see..." Soap floundered. "It's a mum. So you have one. Cuz..."

"Cuz mine's dead," Ghost finished.

Soap had the decency left to look ashamed. It was pretty funny, in Ghost's book. He'd have made that joke himself. He would make that joke from now on whenever somebody asked him about favorite flowers.

"Sorry..." Soap shoved the flowerpot into Ghost's arms.

"Wait! What was the bet?"

"That I couldn't eat a cup of dirt. Fuckers mixed in sand."

Ghost raised an eyebrow. He finally broke. "That's fucking stupid," he laughed.

Soap smiled. "It is, isn't it?"

"I'm keeping the mum. And the dead mum joke."

"Of course you do."

Ghost, for the next several days anytime he found a new victim: "wanna know what my favorite flower is?"

Everyone around them: *groaning aside they've been wounded*

***

I made the greatest joke of all time on stream.

Me: "What's Ghost's favorite flower? It would be mums, but his is dead."

Chat: 🤬🌋🔥💀

I'm gonna clip that moment and post it lol

[lostalioth]

𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡

→ premise: bucky loved his little adrenaline junkie of a girlfriend. how could he not when while riding on the back of his bike you often couldn’t keep your hands to yourself in excitement. he definitely couldn’t complain when it led to you laid out on said bike with his head between your thighs.

→ pairing: biker!bucky barnes x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, bike sex, unprotected sex, oral [f receiving], spit, nickanmes [baby, trouble], sort of public sex [in the woods]

→ a/n: 04 kinktober

Bucky squeezes the clutch to his bike with two fingers quickly finding the bite place for his bike to start speeding off. You squeal under the motorcycle helmet protecting your head and wrap your arms tighter around your boyfriend's waist as the wind whips past your bodies. Bucky leans down as his speed accelerates, he knows you like it, you were a little adrenaline junkie and he knew just how to get you excited. With the way your hands that were previously resting on his lower stomach slide down to his thighs and inch closer to his crotch give him his answer.

You run your fingers lightly over his cock confined in his dark wash jeans before cupping it and rubbing over it as his pants tighten and his cock grows hard. He adjusts his hips and lets go of one side of the bike to squeeze your inner thigh of one of the legs that rests either side of him and the red and black bike. He could feel his jeans getting uncomfortably tight the more you rub over him and the more blood that rushes straight to his crotch.

His speed makes your heart boom in your chest, your cunt throb and your hands squeeze bucky harder. In the blink of a second your boyfriend pulls down a dirt road trail through the woods and slows down to stop the bike.

He flicks the kickstand down with his foot and jumps off the bike, unstrapping his helmet and taking it off. You turn your head in his direction in confusion, your helmet still on your head and move like you're about to get off as well but bucky pushes your hip down so you stay sat, both legs on one side of the bike now. “No you're gonna stay on the bike, trouble and i'm gonna eat this sweet pussy” he explains as he drops to his knees on the dirt road, pushing the hem of your skirt up your thighs. Your legs naturally fall and start to spread, bucky grips your thighs and places them up on his shoulders.

You can still hear your pounding heart in your ears as bucky hooks the waistband of your soaked panties and slips them down your legs. Being too distracted by staring deep into Bucky's eyes you don't notice that he shoves your ruined panties into his leather jacket pocket.

“Oh fuck i got ya’ soaked with speeding up that fast huh baby?” He groans and licks a fat strip up your pussy. You moan and grip onto whatever part of the bike you can reach, trying your best not to fall off or knock it over. He laps at your cunt holding your skirt up with one hand and the other rests on your lower stomach and his thumb rubs circles on your clit. “Shit, mhm bucky!” You whimper and bite the back of your hand to silence yourself, it was the woods but you also were’nt as far off of the main road as you wished. You feel Bucky's lips curl into a smirk against your folds and you shut your eyes tight.

You buck your hips up and against his mouth as you reach the edge rather quickly. The adrenaline from the ride and the possibility of being caught running through your veins. “Bucky baby fuck im gonna cum~” you let out a wanton moan as bucky speeds up his tounge and his thumb working in tandem to push you right over that edge. “Come on trouble, cum on my tounge and then youre gonna bend over my bike baby and ima fuck this pussy” he moans against your cunt and fucks you with his tounge, getting himself worked up as his need to be inside you starts consuming him.

He pulls back to spit on your pussy and watches it drip down your folds, mixing with your slick and slipping further down to your asshole. He grunts and dives back in, gripping your thighs hard. You feel your release come crashing over you and you thread your fingers through buckys and tug as you cum on Bucky's tongue.

He moans against you and pulls his mouth off your cunt and pulls himself off the ground. He's fast with undoing his belt and jeans and pulling them down alongside his boxers just enough to let his cock out. “I don't even get a second to breathe huh?” You pant and your eyes glaze over as you take in the sight of his twitching cock in his hand as he strokes it. “You know why I call you trouble baby?” He questions as he grabs your hips and flips you over so you're bending over the bike's seat, ass right at hip level for bucky. You hum in response and confusion. Bucky smiles and grabs your ass and spreads it as he watches your cunt clenches around nothing begging for it to be filled.

His tip probes at your entrance and his hips snap forward thrusting his cock deep inside you. “I call ya’ trouble cause that's what you're always getting me into” he groans and keeps his rhythm of bucking his hips and thrusting fast inside you. “My little adrenaline junkie girlfriend who can't keep her pretty hands off me, always getting me in trouble” he grins and accentuates his last words with a thrust after each word.

→ a/n: i did not proof read this too well so sorry for any mistakes

[whousestypewriters]

friends till the end right? - k.a x reader

pairing: kai azer x reader

requested: yes / no

warnings: swearing

a/n: im living off of these crumbs until i get my hands on reckless fr. this'll be he last fic queued/posted until i get back lovelies. hope you enjoy mwah <33

taglist: @nqds, @lxvebelle, @reminiscentreader, @off-to-the-r4ces, @ecliphttlunar

@tornqdowarnings

kai azer was your friend.

your bestfriend.

you grew up together, he, just one week older than you basically being your guide into life. you both know he's full of shit and that he just likes to brag that he's older.

you've been by his side for all of it. the awful way edric treated him - which you still want to shove a dagger up edric's ass for by the way - to sneaking into the kitchen and eating lemon tarts with him.

you're his other half and he's yours.

he was by your side when your parents died, never once leaving you during those awful days. he pulled you out of your slump and brought you back to life.

so yeah....

you were close.

and although you were possibly the closets friends in ilya. you wanted more. you wanted to be the girl he looked at in every room the girl who he would recognise anywhere. you wanted to be his girl.

but that wasn't happening anytime soon. it was mere delusional thinking.

"hey, darling," kai's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. "you just gonna lie there all day?"

sighing you open your eyes and look up to kai. "it is rather comfy," you grumble at him. shutting your eyes and the image of kai and the colorful morning sky out.

"well its not my fault you tripped mid-spar."

"EXCUSE ME?" you practically fly up off the ground in anger. "I DID NOT TRIP YOU LITTLE SHIT-" you yell before kai cuts you off with a hand to your mouth.

"hush, you don't want to wake the entire kingdom with your loud ass mouth, you'd think you were a damn amplifier not tele."

you scoff and shove him back, causing him to stumble a little. "i'm going to murder you in your sleep."

"i get to look at your pretty face while dying? thats the greatest gift," kai smirks at you before shoving you back into a nearby tree, "and that was payback for shoving me."

"you deserved my shove. I didn't deserve yours," you huff leaning against the tree while kai looked at you from a few feet away. "what?" you ask. "do i have something on my face? if its dirt im blaming you, i've got lessons all morning after this."

he had an indecipherable look on his face. it only added to your confusion when he stepped closer, his body crowding yours the heat rolling off his skin and onto yours. still looking at you strangely he raises his hand slowly moving towards your face.

"what are you doing?" you meant it to sound questioning and stern but it just came out all breathy and high pitched.

his hand brushed you cheek as he raised it and pulled a twig from your hair. "you had something in your hair," his voice was soft and the moment crackled between the two of you.

there was no reason for you two to be standing that close. it was purely choice. and when kai's head dipped a little you almost gasped at how close you two were.

this was it, oh my god, you were getting your moment? that delusion was turning into a reality.

your breaths mingled together and you're ninety percent sure when kai's hand cupped your cheek and the other grabbed your waist you died a little inside - in the good way.

this was it.

"good morning guys!" a voice came from the other side of the training grounds as kitt strolled leisurely into the area.

kai stepped back from you quickly and headed over to chat with his brother but not before sending you a look that made you want to grin like a school girl.

maybe those delusions weren't so wrong after all.

[fettuccin-e]

Worth Saving

Description: Peter comes home one night tired and broken by the world he's trying to save. You take care of him.

(Tags: Peter Parker x Reader, gn!reader, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, idk he deserves to be loved okay) -- w/c: 1.6K

A/N: OKAY this is a tad different from my usual work!! no smut lol but I really just wanted some good ol' hurt/comfort, and PETER DESERVES IT OKAY

Peter doesn’t knock on your window when he arrives. You see him as he swings up, face still masked, and lands on your windowsill.

He doesn’t tap, not like he usually does. You watch as his chest heaves, and he simply leans, pressing himself against the cold of the glass, unmoving.

“Peter?” You say, rushing forward to unlock and open the window. Peter doesn’t move, slumped against the frame. He breathes quietly, silent. He doesn’t look injured; there are no cuts on his suit, he’s not clutching onto anything that hurts. He just looks tired. Overwhelmingly tired.

Though you’ve seen it before, this quiet, exhausted side of Peter, it still concerns you, scares you a little bit, and you can’t help how your hands shake as you take his gloved hand. “Come inside, baby. We’ve got to get you cleaned up, okay?”

He nods slowly, still quiet, and holds your hand as he climbs through the window. You start your walk to the bathroom, guiding Peter behind you as he trudges slowly, silently, your fingers still laced together. 

Peter stands silently as you run a washcloth under warm water, his back hunched, like he's trying to make himself as small as possible. Like he's trying to hide. From the world, from you, from himself. Your heart aches as you turn to face him.

“Can I take your mask off, honey?” you ask softly, bringing your hands up to cup his jaw. Peter nods wordlessly, and you don’t hesitate to tuck your fingers under the spandex, tugging it over his head. His face is sticky with sweat, but is thankfully free of any blood.

You smile at him, just a little bit, but Peter doesn’t smile back. He just stares at you, his gaze far-away. There are dark circles under his eyes, his pretty skin sallow and horribly devoid of color. “Oh, Peter,” you murmur, brushing a thumb across his cheek. He leans into your touch, just slightly, but the minute movement makes your heart swell.

You reach for the rag, warm and damp against your fingers, and bring it up to Peter’s face. “Is this okay, baby?” you say, and Peter doesn’t nod like you expect him. Instead, the smallest, “yes,” leaves his lips. It’s so pitiful and quiet compared to how Peter usually talks to you, but the fact that he’s brought himself to speak makes you want to shout with joy.

You smile widely at him, and your grin is even further rewarded with a small, momentary quirk of Peter’s lips. It disappears as quickly as it came, but it was there, a hint of the Peter you know and love.

You brush the cloth gently across Peter’s forehead, cleaning his skin of the dirt and sweat from keeping his city safe. Between his job and taking care of May and patrolling, you doubt that Peter’s slept more than three hours a night for two weeks now. You usually fall asleep as soon as you know that he’s arrived home from his patrol, but unlike Peter, you have the luxury of being able to take a nap the next day after work. Peter can barely eat half the time.

Peter’s gaze is vacant, staring at you with unseeing eyes as you clean the grime off his face. You lean up to press a gentle kiss against his cheek. 

“Gonna take your suit off now, okay baby?” you whisper, and Peter nods his assent. You set the rag on the counter again, feeling for the zipper hidden at the back of his suit. You drag it down slowly, making sure the fabric doesn’t snag, until you meet the dip at the end of Peter’s spine. The suit slacks forward off his chest, hanging loosely off his tired body. He doesn’t make any move to slide it off his arms, still staring silently. He blinks slowly at you as you peel it off him, his body sticky underneath with sweat. The suit practically falls off of him, pooling at his feet. 

A few bruises bloom along his ribs, but you take solace in the fact that there isn’t any of his blood, or anyone else’s. You won’t have to bite your lip as you stitch him up, cringing at Peter’s whimpers like you do other nights. 

But the look in Peter’s eyes is still pained, still suffering as he stares at you, silent as a stone. He aches, broken and bloody down to his very core. 

Sometimes, Peter wonders if there’s anything left for you to fix. He thinks that maybe the broken pieces of his soul have been ground to dust, slipping through his fingers as he tries to piece himself back together. For you. He wants to be whole, be better, for you.

Maybe it’s a lost cause, he thinks, maybe he doesn’t deserve to be saved.

Your soft hands skirt delicately over his skin, marking a path up his chest and over his shoulders and down his arms again, before you take his hands again, gently urging him to step forward away from the suit. You suppose that it’s a kind of armor, the kind that protects Peter’s identity from those who want to hurt him. But you curse the damned thing for not saving him from the real, physical hurt he endures night after night. 

“Still okay, baby?” you murmur, raising his hands in yours to kiss his cracked knuckles. Peter doesn’t say anything, but he releases one of his hands from yours to cup your cheek, leaning down to brush a kiss against your hairline, which is better than any kind of answer he could have given you.

Damp cloth in your hand once again, you gently wipe the sweat off his skin, working your way down, down, until you’re kneeling in front of him, wiping slowly, deliberately down his legs.

It doesn't feel remotely sexual, not when Peter is curling in on himself, his eyes fluttering shut and flicking back open, trying to force himself awake. Tonight, Peter just needs to finally rest, moments that have been rare since his sophomore year of high school.

You stand again, slowly moving your way up his body. You scratch your nails against the planes of his skin, trying to give some kind of sensation to his numb body. Trying to make him feel again. You toss the rag into the sink carelessly, wiping your hands off on your pants. 

“Let’s go to bed, Peter,” you say, and Peter responds with a rough, tired grunt of approval. He laces your fingers back together, making you smile as you lead him around back to your shared bed. You pull the covers down and wait by it, waiting for Peter to get in before you.

He stares blankly at you for a moment, not comprehending. You’re usually in bed before him on these nights, burrowed under the blanket until he climbs in with you, tugging your back to his chest. But you pat the mattress, commanding him wordlessly, and Peter can’t possibly disobey your gentle instruction. 

The soft sheets feel like heaven on his achy skin as he slides into bed. You follow close behind him, pressing your front against his back, tugging up the blankets before winding your arms around his middle. He feels you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin.

“You want to talk about it, honey?” you ask, the soft lilt of your voice like music in his sensitive ears.

“Not really,” he mumbles, his voice soft and stifled, his throat feeling raw. “I’m-” he can feel his throat tightening, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Peter, I have absolutely no idea what you could possibly be apologizing for.”

Peter chuckles dryly, and you peck him on the shoulder again as a reward, tugging him back closer to your body. “I’m sorry that I- that I came home to you like this. You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this. It’s- I’m supposed to take care of you, baby, I--”

“Peter,” you say, the loudest you’ve been all night. You unwind your arms from his waist, just a little bit, to sit up, leaning over to look at his face. His eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and your heart aches so horribly you fear it may tear apart inside you. You lean forward, pressing your lips softly to his in a chaste kiss. “My beautiful, perfect Peter,” you mumble against his lips. “You are the love of my life, you know that? And I am so- so proud to be with you. You’re everything to me, and I want to take care of you.” You lean back, pressing your forehead to his.

“You are not broken, Peter Parker. You are bruised, sure, but you are also strong, and loving, and the best man I have ever known. And I want- No, I need to take care of you. I need to make sure that you’re alright, because I couldn’t bear losing you. Do you hear me?”

Peter nods, his throat too tight to speak. 

“I couldn’t survive it, Peter, if I lost you. I love you, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything, so please. Just- just let me take care of you like you deserve, okay?”

A tear escapes unbidden down your cheek, and Peter raises his hand to wipe it away. “Okay, sweetheart. Okay. Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

You nod, sniffing slightly as you settle behind him again. You keep your arms wound around him, plastering yourself to his back. Peter holds onto your hands, rubbing his thumb soothingly into the skin of your wrist.

“I love you so much, baby,” Peter murmurs into the quiet of the room. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

“I love you too, Peter, more than you’ll ever comprehend.”

Peter smiles, relishing in your warmth against his back, your hands on his stomach. It encases him, fills him up with warmth and love until he feels like he could choke on it. 

Peter drifts to sleep slowly, at peace for the first time in weeks. It’s a kind of peace that makes him feel whole, that makes him feel as though he may be worth saving too. 

[thealbatrovss]

wind song // logan(2017) x fem reader

(mini series)

Chapter 1 - blood money

summary: after breaking up over a year ago, you reunite with logan at a diner in Texas. he needs a favor.

warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI - suggestive content, mature themes/subject matters, death, swearing, eventual violence and smut.

word count: 2k+

wind song masterlist // my other masterlist

The coffee was burnt. You pretended to like it that way.

The white mug was too hot to hold with your hands, so you opted for a straw instead. You found it in the corner of the booth. That earned some stares from the old couple eating lunch a few tables over and your waitress.

“That’s gonna melt the plastic right into your drink, you know?” Her Texan accent wasn’t as thick as the other waiters. There was red lipstick on her teeth. “Just wait for it to cool down.”

You picked the plastic tube from the liquid, inspecting it. It was still intact. “Looks fine to me.” And you popped it back in. There were sugar packets on the table. They reminded you of pixie sticks. You started to feel nauseous.

The lady shook her head, putting her notepad with your orders away. “Whatever gets you through the day.” And she left to go get your food. Or complain to her coworkers about the woman melting plastic instead of sugar into her coffee.

You wanted to drink it like normal. But you’d used a similar cup like this before to solve a case a few months back. It just didn’t feel right. Objects never did after they helped you locate the missing person. Another strange aspect of your powers. It’s like the people lived on through their things.

You could see his car pulling in through the driveway. He was right on time. Like always.

All kinds of emotions were running through you. You’d just arrived here out of state for a funeral. You were still wearing the black dress from attending this morning. Logan had called as you debated in your car whether to attend the after-services or not. Guess you got your answer. But it was still a surprising one.

You hadn’t seen or heard from him in over a year. Not since the incident.

The front doors opened, and the bell rang to let everyone know. You sat up a little straighter, nervous fingers folded in your lap.

Logan seemed to bring down the entire room as soon as he walked in. He wore a white tank top, with a white button-up over it. His black suit jacket was covered in specks of dirt and dust. His beard was a lot fuller now, his hair a bit shorter. Both growing gray. It glistened with the beads of something that smelled like moonshine.

For the first time in your life, you could see his age catching up to him. And the exhaustion. It was written on the bags underneath his eyes. In the way he held his aching knuckles to his chest, staring at where his claws hid.

He took a quick swig from his flask, ignoring the waiter's glare from behind the main counter. He was looking for you, drink still in hand.

You let him find you.

“Nice dress.” He started with. Your heart rate increased. You bit the inside of your lip. He still had that gravitational pull that made people want to either run and hide or get closer to him. He slid into the booth across from you. The sugar packets made shaking noises. He left his flask out on the table. “What’s the occasion?”

Your hands played with the black fabric ending at your knees. “Funeral.”

Logan nodded his head in understanding. He took out his glasses, looking at one of the menus.

“Oh, I’ve ordered already.”

“And I’m hungry as shit.”

“I ordered for you.” You emphasized.

Logan paused, staring at a picture of a salad. His eyes peeked out over the menu. “The usual?”

You nodded, swirling the straw around in the cooling cup of coffee. “Most places have what you like.”

He removed his glasses, rubbing at the irritated spot on his nose. “Next time, let me get my own tab.”

When she returned with the food, you ate in silence.

Logan stuffed a plate of sausages in his mouth before finishing attacking the eggs. He occasionally reached for his flask, like it was something he had ordered.

You didn’t feel like eating. The sugar was grinding in your ears. You’d have to take this sandwich to go. The coffee was going cold now.

“So,” you started. You were suddenly aware of how sticky the seat was beneath you. “Why did you call?”

“Why did you answer?” He kept eating. His fork made noises when it hit the plate.

You thought about the weeping mother and the small casket. “Well, it was either this or dwell on my last case. And I’d rather talk with an old friend than think about any of that.”

He stopped chewing, swallowing hard. “Well, then you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

Your brows knitted. You leaned back against the headboard. “I’m listening.”

Your ex took another shot of the hard alcohol. It was still the afternoon. But alcohol didn’t have the same effect on him as it did on other people. His abilities wouldn’t allow it. But it was still a problem.

He stuffed the flask back in his shirt pocket, only after it was empty. “I’ll make it short. A client of mine owes me a lot of fucking money.”

You crossed your arms. “How much?”

He put up five fingers. You remembered how they used to squeeze your hand in comfort. Sometimes they’d wipe away your tears. Other times they gripped your thighs and pulled you closer.

It was bittersweet. Those sweet and intimate memories. Even as the world continued to go to shit and mutants became less and less, you still had each other. Until something took that all away. You could recall the whistle ringing from your lips. Your cheeks were cold during the early days of fall. Logan was yelling about how you should’ve seen this coming. But he knew how your abilities worked. They didn’t work on the living.

“5,000?” You guessed.

“50,000.” He corrected.

Your jaw dropped. “Jesus. Were you his chauffeur or were you sleeping with him?”

He smiled. It was a weak one but it was still there. If you weren’t so used to it you would’ve missed it. “Look, he was a rich asshole who promised me a big tip. That's all.”

“That’s not a tip. That’s my salary.”

Logan set his utensils down after taking one last bite. “Then you need a fucking raise.”

“Or a new profession.” You joked. But it came out flat.

Being a private detective could’ve been a more fulfilling job. If it wasn’t for the fact that your mutant gene gave you the ability to track any person or creature. But only if they were dead.

You’ve worn this dress too many times to too many funerals.

Logan seemed like he was fighting with himself, whether to respond to that confession or not. He didn’t. Instead, he pulled out a fancy fountain pen from his jacket. “This is all I have of his.” He placed it on the table in front of you. “Will this be enough?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. “I haven’t even agreed to anything yet. What makes you think he’s dead in the first place?”

“Because, when he called saying he had the money, I heard gunshots. Then the phone went out. It’s been three weeks.”

“And no one’s reported him missing?” That was odd.

“Nope.” He looked from your eyes to your lips. “He never even told me where he was. I think he was out of state. And before you ask, yes, I already tried to trace the call. Nothing.”

The waitress came by, handing you a to-go box and whisked away his empty plates. Her eyes lingered noticeably longer on Logan as she walked back into the kitchen.

You continued your questioning. “Does he have any family? Maybe they know where he is.”

“No. He told me he was an only child. Parents died by the time he was 40. No other living relatives. People say a lot of shit when they’re drunk in the back of a car. Or just damn lonely.” His hand instinctively went to rest on the flask in his pocket. He motioned towards the pen. “If you need more than this, I can get it.”

You hesitated to pick it up. “You know how much I hate doing this.”

“I know.” He licked his lips, leaning towards you. “Yet, you’re still looking for people.”

It was true.

As much as you hated your powers, as much as they hurt; they could be used to help. Even if that meant only ever bringing people back to their families dead instead of alive.

A quote from your old Professor echoed in your mind. From a time long lost in the unforgiving hands of time and a powerful mind.

“Sometimes, doing the right thing can hurt you. But, it can give peace to the ones that you’re helping. What you give up, you give away. For good or for evil, now that’s up to you.”

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. An old friend was asking for your help. But would he do the same for you? There was a time when you would’ve never doubted it. You hated yourself for that.

The pen felt icy in your hands. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe he was dead. You could already feel something beating through the object. It didn’t feel alive. “When do we start?”

A glimmer of light radiated off of Logan’s rugged face. For a moment there, it was like he was his old self again. The light flickered out just as quickly as it came. “Tomorrow morning. 8 am. I’ll pick you up.” He placed a 20-dollar bill next to your half-empty coffee cup.

You stared at the dead man on the paper. “I’ve already paid.”

“This is for the tip.” He stood, a slight uneasiness in his steps. He seemed so tired.

Were his regenerative powers still getting worse?

He paused before heading out, messing with the cuff of his sleeves. “Don't worry. I’ll make sure you get paid for this.”

I don’t want your damn money. I want to be rid of this haunting.

You let him think you were deep in thought. You tapped your chin. “I’ll take 60%.”

Logan put a hand on his hip. He sighed. “Now don’t piss me off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Would never dream of doing that.” You packed your untouched sandwich away in the box.

Logan cursed under his breath. It sounded like he was muttering between fuck it and fines. When he left the small diner the room felt lighter again.

You watched him drop his keys in the parking lot and stomped them further into the Texas dirt.

“See, I told you!” You turned to your waitress who was pointing at your cup. The plastic was starting to crinkle and melt. You could see it poking out from the brim of the liquid. “Next time, just drink the damn thing normally.”

I would if I could.

Logan was already gone by the time you looked back out the window. The sugar packets shook as you stood to leave. The cup rattled. The pen had a heartbeat. You could feel your powers radiating through the objects.

That night you played with the lamentation on the corner of a photo.

Your motel room was small but surprisingly homely. There was a TV playing at full volume in the room next door. It kept you awake. Sounded like an action movie. It seemed to go on forever.

The photo was of you and Logan. You still kept it in your wallet. It was hidden behind old coupons and a stick of gum. Sometimes you forget it was even there. Most of the time you self soothed by peeling off the lamentation from the corners. The sides looked like the melting straw in your cup of coffee.

It was 9 pm. You ate most of your sandwich. A corner piece sat in the to-go box on your bed. Someone finally shut the TV off. A dog was barking in the parking lot. Cigarette smoke hugged the air. You put the photo back into your wallet, this time behind your credit card.

“Logan’s phone.” You heard Caliban's voice sing through the line. “Sometimes mine if he lets me use it.”

It was nice to hear from him again. A tracker similar to you but only with mutants. He was always mesmerized by how your powers worked. He used to show you the sketches of the figures you blew into the wind when you whistled. You wondered if he still kept those drawings.

“Hey. It’s me.”

“I know. He’s still got your contact name in his phone.”

You smiled a little. “Is he there?”

“He’s working. Some bachelor party, I think. He’s probably pissed he left his phone here.”

You looked at the fountain pen sitting on the nightstand. “When he gets back, could you tell him we’re headed to Nevada.”

“Nevada? What the hell are you two going to do up there?” He paused for a brief moment as if he just remembered. “Oh yeah. The blood money.”

“Did he promise you a cut too?”

He let out a laugh. “Logan can hardly part with a 5-dollar bill these days. I’ll probably get paid shit for watching Charles while you two go off getting married in some shitty casino or something.”

“It’s just a business trip. Nothing more.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, my friend.”

There was a storm happening outside. The wind howled like a river of ghosts against the motel walls. You thought you heard old teammates and friends whispering in it.

A cough came from the other line. “By the way, if you come across a Vegas snow globe, I’d very much like to add it to my collection.”

“Sure.” The howling outside continued. “Take care, Caliban.”

“You don’t want to ask how Charles is doing?”

You took a sharp inhale. You didn’t need to ask. You knew exactly how he was doing. And you didn’t want to talk about him right now. Maybe some other time. You kept putting it off. You’d deal with that guilt another time.

“I’ll get you that snow globe.” And you hung up.

You fell asleep, still wearing that black dress.

[tuliptired]

hello! I don’t want to bother you but could you possibly right about old man Egon Spengler x fem reader?

Empty Pocket Waltz

Pairing: Old man!Egon Spengler/Fem!Reader

Not a bother at all! Firm believer that some pussy would've saved him

Better formatting on Ao3!!

You’ve been living in Summerville, Oklahoma for at least the last handful of decades. It was a cold and windy night when you loaded Callie into the backseat, before you and Egon left your lives in New York to save the world, supposedly. After starting from scratch in a gilded age farmhouse, sending a child off to college, meeting her children- it felt like more of a family dinner. Nevertheless, you were happy. And, despite the threat of constant doomsday for years on end, Egon seemed at a weird sort of peace. Every morning you wake up, you wonder what your future would’ve been like, if your daughter didn’t cry out in the middle of that argument. If he had never gone to hold her, and realize that this was a matter of your little family, as well as the planet.

That was then, in the confines of your miniscule apartment, paint peeling off the walls and water endlessly dripping out your taps. You took a long breath in, grateful for the abundance of fragrant house flora you had managed to keep alive. It was just you and the rolling farmland this morning, a silent little symphony as the sun beat down on your face. Not even the pan below you dared to make any noise.

Your moment alone was cut short by the gentle running of water, and later the creak of the floorboards that made up the steps. Egon had become a better sleeper in time. He used to insist on going in late, getting up early, taking care of Callie before you’d managed to open your eyes. But his old habits came crashing down after a while of falling asleep to gentle wind chimes, chirping crickets, pittering rain. And you found it adorable- his messy hair and soft pajamas seeing you off to your job in town every morning.

You felt a warm body at your side as you finished making breakfast. “Did you sleep well?” you asked, the question as familiar as he was. Egon didn’t answer, leaning his head on your shoulder while you carefully poured him coffee, one cream and four artificial sugars. Time may have altered his disposition, but never his tastes.

“Well,” you started, plating pancakes after he trudged over to the table, “I hope you eat as well as you sleep. We have a big day today.” you spoke excitedly.

Egon woke up a bit after a sip from his old and worn out mug. He puzzled over your proclamation, brow furrowed a bit. “We do?” he wondered, growing nervous in wake of your bright smile.

“Pruning day!” you announced, wrapping your arms around his neck from the back as he let out a soft groan. “And you’re gonna help out, because you promised your poor old wife with bad knees that you’d get it done. And because you love her.”

“Yes. And because I love her,” he said dryly.

You heard him sigh as you loosened your embrace around his shoulders. “The flowers aggravate my allergies and dirt gets stained into my clothes,” He paused. “Get me the shears from the mudroom, please?” A happy noise escaped you then before you buried your head into his hair. “Thank you, Egon.” Geez, did he always have this much hair? You could feel the white locks tickling your own scalp. “Ouf. Next item on the to-do list is a haircut.”

 Egon had been out there for some time when you emerged with a glass of lemonade. Watching your husband do physical labor under the sun was a fairly indulgent source of entertainment- but there’s just something about a man tending to a garden on his hands and knees that made your day a bit brighter.

“Since you’re working so hard,” you offered him the cup, a painted little thing that Callie had made in school, while you sip from your glassware. 

He didn’t seem to mind, shamelessly taking a drink. “Thank you.” He sat back on his haunches then, observing your mini yield. “You’ve got a lot this summer.”

“I know,” you marveled, taking a quick headcount of all your sprouts, shoots, and stalks. “It’s a pensioner’s dream.” 

If your grandson were here, and not up north- he’d undoubtedly be making fun of you both for your stereotypically geriatric source of entertainment. It had taken both you and Egon, the genius, ridiculously long to notice the acres upon acres of farmland at your disposal. Of course, this was after a sizable amount of stressing over what it took to adequately feed a growing child. So, you grew what you could for dinner, garden plot now confined to the side of your house as caring for it became hard.

You took refuge on a worn chair in the shade, legs crossed while your husband bent back down to work. You couldn’t help the pleased sound you made to yourself at the sight of him, pants hitching up to the midsection of his thighs and a bit closer to his skin than other bottoms you’d  seen him don outside. He’d gotten a little fuller over time, but you’d be a liar if you dared to say you minded. 

“Those shorts were a good decision, then?” you mused, low eyes still on his lower half. You nearly missed the look of offense he had as he looked over his shoulder. “Glad you’re bringing them back.”

“I have nothing else. We should put laundry on the list.” Egon stated. 

You rested the glass on your own thigh, condensation providing a little relief from the warmth permeating your spot in the shadows. “You have at least two pairs of sweatpants left. I checked,” you scoffed. You’d known him for so many years that you had no problem decoding his unvarnished nature, even if it was slightly annoyed. You knew he really wasn’t too upset at your ogling, or letting the chore slip your mind. And- he did wordlessly arch a bit further into the bush, a satisfied smile growing on your face.

After all his drudgery was done, you promised you’d find a way to repay him after a second shower. His hulking figure tracking soil around your hallways was enough for you to usher him into the bathroom and stay at the door until you heard the water run. 

He wasn’t very long, and you met back in your now-steamed-washroom to tackle his little salon treatment. “How’d this happen?” you murmured rhetorically, examining Egon from all angles while he dwarfed a stool. He always had refused to use the toilet for anything but its intended purpose, chastising you and your daughter whenever you dared to. In the rare times Callie looked to test his patience- Terrible Twos, she knew that a lesser loved doll or picture book could stand a swim in the porcelain, if it meant getting back at Daddy.

“I thought you liked my hair long?” Egon asked, covered by the fluffy towel you dried his damp hair with.

You brushed it back into its usual place. After a long time of being styled- probably since his final graduation, his hair seemed to compromise, curls finally growing in the way he had manipulated them to. “I do, but that was then,” you worked. “College-Egon was a different guy.”

He sulked a bit. “Elon’s wife lets him wear his hair long.” His uncharacteristic petulance was endearing to you, as you grabbed a pair of hairdressing scissors. These had saved Callie on many different occasions, most notably when you had come home to find her and her father locked inside the destroyed bathroom, trying every remedy in every cupboard and cabinet to remove something viscous and sticky that ended up on her from Egon’s lab. 

“Elon’s wife let him keep a family of foxes. She only put them out when they scuffed her china cabinet.” you laughed lightly, not yet removing anything from his head.

“I won’t take away too much. Just enough to not scratch me.”

He conceded. “You know best.”

“I know.”

You carefully clipped just shy of half an inch from the white that took over what once was brown. You had to admire its refusal to thin out, thick but light pieces littering the tile beneath you. Before he knew you, an old and apparently unkind barber down the street cut his hair. When the price of that looked too high for his parents, his father took up the job, and he wasn’t much of a step up. Once Egon was out on his own, people seldom touched his head, not even after his degrees were finished and he gave it a drastic cut. It always felt nice, being on the giving end of taking care of such a distinctive part of him. One he really never let anyone influence or alter, when given the choice.

A gentle snoring rumbling from him and the slight slump of his head drew you out of your focus when you took a step back to review your work. “You really are old,” you grinned, rousing him awake. You caught your reflections in the mirror. “Good?”

Egon gave you a nod of approval, sitting patiently as you brushed some of the stray white off his shoulders. “Good.”

You examined him once more, still not fully satisfied. Something was off. He still looked great- he always looked great. But you were skipping a step. Egon was nothing if not tolerant, waiting for you to finish your evaluation.

“I know,” you snapped. You didn’t give him much of a further explanation, dipping into the drawers of the sinkside cabinet and emerging with a razor. “Your beard.”

The very tall man nearly scooched off the stool. “I thought you liked it? You’ve never said anything before.”

You glanced down at the shaver in your hand. Shiny and electric- one of the first things you had ordered online, when that was a new thing. “Okay, maybe not these.” you placed them on the counter. “Come on, grandpa. Just a trim.”

You were lucky Egon trusted your judgment. So, you took the scissors and carved him back out, catching short strands with the equally as white towel.

“There you are,” you twinkled, proud of your cosmetology skills. You placed a loving kiss on his cheek, his own smile pulling at the muscle. In your little moment, he convinced you to let him paint your nails in thanks. Your husband. Egon was always handsome, before and after your pampering. But you reveled in the intimacy of routine maintenance with the one you loved.

“Darn it,” you closed the washer-dryer. Halfway through its cycle and it decided to start fussing again. “Egon?” you called, hoping he’d mess around with it again and finish drying your wet clothes.

And mess around he did. He turned knobs, moved pipes, plugged and unplugged things with increasing frustration. This didn’t show much but his stubbornness, but he really was a smart man. With a PhD. But this was one of his few intellectual weaknesses- “smart” appliances. It was one of the more newer things in the old house, an upgrade the handyman (Egon insisted he could fix the old one alone, nearly electrocuting himself before you put your foot down about it) who came from really far out of town to help you out had suggested. But, there was always something going on with it, whether that was your fault or otherwise. There was always a new fix, but not now.

Egon must’ve sensed your worry over the clothes still inside. “We can put these on the line to dry,” he reassured you, using some of his strength to push it forward and inspect whatever went on at its back.

“It’s gonna rain,” you troubled, peering outside at the graying sky. He was in his own, mechanical world, not hearing you as he assessed the faulty thing. 

“Egon?” You wrapped your arms around his middle. 

You could tell his ponderings didn’t stop at your touch. “Yes?”

“I know you can fix the car. And your proton pack. And my hair dryer.” He let out a noise of acknowledgment, which might have had a hint of pride.

“But maybe,” you cringed, “we should just cut our losses and take all this to the laundromat?”

He shot down your idea- because of course that was the wildest suggestion ever presented to him. “Why go all the way out there over something I can fix in an evening?” Egon reasoned.

“You know good and well it’ll take longer than an evening.” You had already started to sort soaked clothes into linen bags. “I’ll be lucky if I catch you leaving this room before the end of the week.”

“Then, by the end of the week you’ll have a working laundry room again.”

You placed one of your sodden delicates in his hands. “Everything’ll mold if we can’t get it to dry. And I won’t let you test any of it. We’re going.”

Egon grumbled, but followed suit, carrying the large bag of laundry to the car for you while you grabbed your mini bag of quarters. It was his silent compliance as he waited for you to buckle up that made you stroke his arm apologetically.

“I appreciate that you’re always trying to help. Remember what you did to Callie’s Furby?”

He nodded fondly. “The first to be able to talk back. She was terrified.”

“Well, she would fish it out the closet when she was mad. I never had to buy her a diary ever again.” you shrugged.

“Do you still like the jets I put in the bathtub?” he turned to you.

“Of course! You just never notice I have them on because you’re in there with me.”

The drive into town always took some time, bumpy dirt roads turning into proper asphalt after a while. Summerville was still a small town, so the laundromat was never as bustling as it could be. But your assumptions were proven wrong, as a dozen or so cars lined the curb. Either everyone’s washer or dryer started acting up, or the water company had a mass shut off.

Egon moved rigidly through the throng of people in the little space. These were the people, and some of their now-grown-children, who stared at him like he was an alien after moving his tiny family to a run down house all the way from Manhattan. You could somewhat understand their intrigue- the most exciting thing to happen around this place seemed to be community matters. But some of their rumors were outright laughable: you were on the run from the police (ironic if you considered how gossipy the town was), Callie was a monster he made in his lab (she played into that one when you went shopping), you were Soviet spies sent for espionage (fairly dangerous, considering the country was coming down from the Cold War and Egon was very visibly the child of two European immigrants). 

But, as years passed and no nukes were dropped and no infectious diseases spread from your daughter in school, Summerville learned you were here to stay. And they started to enjoy your presence, the few times you’d gone into town to run errands and with everything you did at work. You’d even gotten close to a family or two, evident in how a teenage girl sitting on one of the stand alone machines smiled at you.

“Hi, Mr and Mrs. Spengler,” Lucky waved. Her and Trevor had become close friends, at least the few summers he and his sister had spent while visiting. You had thought it wouldn’t stick- on account of the distance and the time it’s been since their last trip down here, but they managed to stay in contact. Very close contact, you’d been told.

“Hi, Lucky,” you returned, “how’s your mom?”

“She’s okay. She sent me here- ‘cause our washer won’t start.” 

“We’re in the same boat, then. Tell her: once ours works again, I’ll send Egon to check yours out, alright?”

Her grin grew, possibly at the sight of your husband's expression. He was used to you volunteering his skills in repair, though. It proved useful, in a town without any real mechanical service. Here, one just prayed they would never break down or lose power. But it was one of the ways you managed to clean up your reputation in time- Egon serving as an electrician, tow truck, or handyman whenever he wasn’t holed up in his makeshift lab. “Will do,” she nodded.

With that, her dad called her, and she was off. Not before complimenting your nails, though. You made quick work of loading your wet clothes, going through the motions. Halfway through, Egon stopped to pull something out of one of his wrinkled pockets.

It was one of your earrings, delicate and near tiny. “You fell asleep with it on.” he handed it to you.

Eventually, your laundry was done. And you didn’t even run through all your quarters. This called for a Coke from the vending machine- only a can, you both needed to watch your sugar.  The drive back was noticeably more jovial, you had clean and dry laundry, Egon had a new project to consume his time. He seemed to have multiple things on his mind, as he opened the passenger door for you.

“They’re calling today,” he said, almost anxiously. Callie had been calling you periodically ever since she went off to Ohio, of all places, for college. She had stopped after you came back from a visit once she had Trevor, and it wasn’t until after his father left that 1. You learned she had a whole other child not long before their split, and 2. He was an awful husband. After that, you made her promise to always check in with you, especially in the long stretches of time when driving up to Chicago just wasn’t an option. Egon’s been on top of her calls ever since, silently eager to see his daughter and his growing grandchildren. 

At some point, you found him in the living room, mulling around with the iPad you were given some time in the early 2010’s in order to actually see the people getting in contact with you. “You got it?” you asked, squeezing into your typical spot next to him.

He nodded, and soon your daughter was on the little screen. “Hey Mom, hey Dad.”

“Hi, Cal!” Egon had only waved, always a tad shy over the phone for the first few minutes. “How’s everything? How’s work?”

She seemed preoccupied with something offscreen. “Raining hard, here. Ceiling started to leak.”

You frowned. It was never fun to hear that your loved ones were struggling, even if they were small grievances like these. “Does your landlord know? It’ll only get worse as it gets warmer.”

“He won’t answer my calls,” she put her hands up, as if she was ridding herself of the problem, “we have buckets, it’s fine.”

“You know what we’re gonna tell you.”

“Do I?”

“Spend the summer here,” you urged, hearing her groan slightly over the phone. “It can’t hurt.”

“I can’t ask that of you guys. Again.” 

You gestured around the large, under-occupied house. “You lived here. You know how much space we have.”

Callie was silent, deep in thought as you continued. “We miss you. The other day I started wondering if Phoebe still needed Pampers.”

She sat back wherever she was sitting. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“It feels like it! When you’re as old as we are, a day feels like a year.”

“Today has been quite a year,” Egon affirms at your side.

You sat forward on the little couch. “Even Dad agrees. He’s too shy to say, but he always wants to ask you for pictures. But he’s scared you’ll find it annoying.” Egon didn’t seem to be embarrassed, wanting to see the rest of his family as much as you did.

Callie spoke up then, eyebrows high. “I’ll send you pictures, Dad. Mom, I’ll…I’ll think about it, ok?” You’d take that, for now. Soon, Trevor appeared, waving at you both. 

You left Egon to have his time with the teenager. From the other room, you got snippets about a car show, some new friends he’d been making, a cut he got from trying to shave his legs- which was a little interesting. You can remember the first time he had held Trevor. The newborn was just happy to be alive, so awake for only being a few hours old. He took interest in everything Egon had to say, eyeing the shiny buttons of his shirt, the reflective frames of his glasses. In the private of the hospital room Callie was fast asleep in, he revealed to you that he was excited to watch a little boy in his family grow up the opposite in which he did: being allowed to play, get dirty, make mistakes.

It wasn’t until Trevor wondered aloud where you were that you peeked your head around the corner. After switching out with Egon, you settled into his warm spot on the sofa, tea in hand.

“Hi, grandma!” 

“Hi, Trevor. I see the leak was in your room.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. We have buckets.”

You smiled at that, chatting about more things- the show you were watching together, a recipe he was demanding you try, drama in school, before you remembered something. “We saw Lucky today. When was the last time you talked?” you gently probed.

Trevor brightened, if not reddened. “Last night. School ends later for us here so,” he swallowed. “But we’ve been able to talk every night.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Everynight’s an improvement.”

He waved you off. “It’s not that big of a deal.” His expression grew far away. “Is it that big of a deal?”

“She’s been asking when you’ll be back. Maybe you won’t miss her birthday this year.”

Trevor sat up straighter, so fast he knocked his knees against the underside of his desk. He didn’t seem to notice, while you winced on the other end of the phone. You asked if he was alright, but he was too deep in his head to notice. “Oh man, really? I got her a gift. Or a couple of gifts. I was gonna send it in the mail.”

You smiled knowingly. “More reasons to come here. Actions speak louder than words.” Trevor looked doubtful, brow creased a bit.

“What if she doesn’t like it? Like: ‘ohhh thank you Trevor, but that’s super weird. I’m getting a car but I can put the stuffed bear in the backseat’.” He must’ve gotten his anxiety from Egon- he sounded exactly like him in the days leading up to you being asked out. Or so Ray tells you.

“No chance. Every girl would like a gift from her boyfriend.” you shook your head.

Trevor looked at least a bit hopeful. “But, we’re not dating-”

“Mom said to let me on.”

You let Egon have a minute with Phoebe. They always had a special connection- there was no need for anyone to say anything because it was so clear. Trevor gave them their space, and you did too, and it was all okay because he’d been your little guy since birth, literally attached to your leg whenever he had the chance to hang out with you. And Phoebe holed up with her grandfather in his makeshift lab, learning and talking about anything they each had to offer. They really were cut from the same cloth, it was only natural. You can remember her delivery, too. The entire day was hard- feverish three year old, busy hospital, unhelpful and soon to be ex husband. Callie had to pretty much bargain for medical attention in the sterile room as her contractions got worse, let alone to get an epidural. Such an angry start in the world. But when she came, she was so peaceful, not even crying when she was brought out into the cold air. Precious is what you regarded it as, weird was the word buzzed around between NICU nurses. 

For the second time, in the dark of a hospital room while Trevor slept in his shirt, Egon barely whispered that, “she’s already different.” You knew exactly what he meant- and it was nowhere near bad. She was like him.

Phoebe’s room was messy as ever, but it was an organized mess. “Hi, grandma,” she greeted.

“Hi, Phebes,” you saw something round and white in her hands, “what’s that?”

She lifted it to the camera, fairly nonchalantly. “Our ac. He switched it off so I’m trying to jailbreak it.” Ah.

“When can we come back?” she added, clearly having thought about visiting a lot more than usual.

“Any time. You just have to convince your mom. Chicago’s getting boring?” 

Her eyebrows twitched once, the way Egon always does. “In the summer. And, if something happens to our house while we’re gone, the landlord’s responsible. Not us.” she explained.

That’s your granddaughter. “Smart girl.” You paused, noticing something different about her but not being able to place it. “Did you…get new frames?”

Phoebe paused in turn, pushing them up. “Are they bad?” she asked, brows knitted slightly. “I didn’t want to change them, but Mom made me.”

You smiled, “They look great. But, uh, what’s the difference?”

“These hinges are silver. The old hinges were nickel.”

That was definitely your granddaughter. Eccentric, in her own, special way.

Soon, Callie needed her phone back. As you all said your goodbyes, something popped into your mind before you reminded Phoebe that you saw Podcast and he wants her to call him back so they can play their game.

Phoebe scowled over her brother’s shoulder. “I’m banned. Tell him we have to find something else.”

Every time your family called, Egon happened to remember that the iPad had a game or two on it, and he was occupied until it was time to chorale him into bed. You waited patiently as he put it to charge, ready to be forgotten about for a while, and nuzzled into his chest when he returned to you. His sleeping clothes were always worn, but they always filled you with the familiar scent of him which you were much too happy never washed out. 

“Did you have fun?” you asked into the fabric of his shirt. Sure, it was a long and hard battle to condition him out of a gown and sleeping cap in the early days of your relationship, but you’d take what he give you.

He hummed in response. “Level 2801 on Candy Crush today.”

“One higher than Winston.” you gazed in the darkness at a familiar spot by the door, cracked ajar. Callie would wait for you both, as soon as she could toddle out of her bed and needed someone with her when she used the bathroom, or to console her after a bad dream. As she got older, it’s where she brought you both coffee on special mornings, and bounced on her heels waiting for approval to take the car. Callie’s spot. Perfectly between both of your pillows, if you drew a straight line, run a little ragged by bare feet, sneakers, and slippers. “What else?”

“Peter took something from my farm, so I put him and his dogs underground.”

You shut your eyes, though still enjoying your sleepy conversation. “That’s not very good conflict resolution.” He was quiet, and you assumed he had dozed off, you in his arms, until there was a tugging at your earlobe.

“What?”

“Earrings.”

“Thank you, Egon.” Your old man. This was a much smaller life than Times Square, Central Park, Ghostbusters. But it was your small life, with your larger-than-life husband, and you really wouldn’t have it any other way.

[callofdudes]

Could you do a head canon were Simon and reader just platonic cuddle when either one of them has an overwhelming day please

Hey @itsscromp my friend, here are your platonic cuddles! 😊😊 I hope you enjoy.

Platonic cuddles with Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon didn't like touch, he hates physical affection. But there's something about your touch, how gentle you are with him. Nudging his arm playfully when joking around or smacking him lightly on the back.

Your touch he liked. And he didn't realize just how touch starved he was until you started giving him more affection. He loves your hugs the most, any time he can get one he'll be right there to receive it. And he's learning to give hugs too!

But there is certain affection above all else. Cuddles. Simon loves to platonically cuddle with you and could do it all day.

Especially after a long hard day, in an overwhelming and stimulating environment Simon can't think of a better way to unwind then to find his friend and curl you up into his arms. Holding you close to him, talking and whispering about your day with him.

Or when you bring him into your embrace, rubbing his back and letting him be comforted by the gentle thrum of your heartbeat. Pulling him into a peaceful nap.

He starts to constantly seek you out for that attention. The affection he craves and relaxes his angry soul. Constantly on edge, but your embrace keeps him grounded and firm.

He had finished training the recruits and he felt exhausted. He'd had an overwhelming day of injuries, training, whiny recruits and much more. That and Gaz was on his back about some files that were overdue to be returned to the filing room.

Yes, he was a lieutenant and needed to keep on top of things, but today he wasn't on his A-game.

He dragged himself to the showers to try and relax, but all that did was add to his exhaustion after peeling away the grime and washing the dirt from his rough skin.

Gross and tired, he sulked back to the barracks and toward his room. He came to your room and sighed heavily. He pushed the door open, seeing you relaxing in your bed after the long day with your entertainment in your hands.

"Hey Si." You greeted him as he came in.

He closed the door gently and tore off his jacket, throwing it on the end of the bed. You could see the exhaustion in his body and his eyes.

"Long day?"

He huffs and crawls onto the bed, snuggling up to you and closing his eyes. "Overwhelming." He whispers.

"It's over now. You can rest."

You place your entertainment down and run your fingers through his hair, massaging your other hand over his spine, feeling knots in his muscles.

"Well I can see why you're so tense." You start to massage his muscles, feeling the knots coming loose. He mumbles and hisses, letting you pull and push his muscles until his shoulders relax, loose from the days pain.

"Did you eat today?"

He snuggles closer, resting his head under your chin, just relieved to be back in your embrace.

"Thank you."

He feels the grime of the day wash away. Every worry from his week. Those papers he worked on for hours until his hands cramped just to get them to Price on time.

Dealing with the recruits. It was all too much along with the exhaustion.

You could tell something was annoying him more than usual. You rubbed his back and combo your fingers back through his hair.

"A little..."

"Ok, you're gonna have dinner with us ok?"

He nods. "I will."

You cup his cheek, running your thumb over his cheek, feeling him sink so easily into the warmth you provide. The way his arms wrap around your back protectively, holding you against him as if you'd slip away at any given moment.

"I'm here Simon." You reassure him.

You feel his breathing start to slow and even out. His head grows heavy, his whole body relaxing into your touch as he drifts off.

"Get some rest, you've had a long day buddy."

The same goes for you. Simon knows that when you have an overwhelming day you often search his comfort out before anything else.

The way he can envelope you in his large arms. His fluffy sweater a soft material that soaks you into his embrace.

The warmth he gives off, or the chill of his bare skin against your own when he comforts you after a nightmare.

You love getting to hug Simon. You love giving him your affection through small gestures. They're small gestures but you know they move mountains for Simon. And for you.

It only brings you closer and you know he'll be there.

That and you know Simon can protect you. His embrace made you feel safe from everything that could threaten you. In the moment it feels like Simon is invincible, protecting you from whatever wants to threaten you.

You were working late after an already overwhelming day. After training the recruits and spending hours on gun cleaning and setup, the sun had set and you still had work to do. You weren't a big fan of the dark but you still had to wash down the shed, and it wasn't curfew yet.

You hated the dark, why were you put on night cleanup so much?? You sigh, finishing washing down the large shed. It should be fine to dry like that, no problems.

After the long, tiring day you walked to the showers and tried to get in a refreshing rinse after the grime filled day. This only served to make you more tired.

You threw on some clean clothes and walked across the yard to go to the barracks. There was a rustle in by one of the sheds, sending your heart leaping in your chest.

You shuddered when it was only a group of recruits out for a smoke before bed.

You quickly walked back to the barracks and started heading for your room. You got to your door and paused, Simon's door wasn't too far down and he'd definitely still be up at this hour.

You walk a little further down and knock on his door. "Si??"

"Come in."

You slip into his room and relax, seeing him laying on his bed, reading a book. "Need something?"

You grab one of the nearby blankets and flip it over your shoulders as you approach the bed.

He puts his book down and opens his arms, huffing when you flop down on the bed on top of him.

"Long day then??"

You nod, curling up in his arms, resting your head under his chin. Finally in his arms, comforted by his presence. The warmth after the long day and the unnecessary cold shower.

"Too much..."

"Overwhelming hey?" He rubs your back reassuringly and pats between your shoulder blades.

You nod, taking his forearms and wrapping them tighter around you. He chuckles, "Ok, this better?" He squeezes you a little tightly, his arms protecting you from the world. Holding you close firmly and so delicately at the same time.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Any time, get some rest ok? You've had a long day."

"I will."

"Did you have dinner or some water earlier."

"I did, thanks."

Simon nods and runs his thumb over your cheek gently. I can take nightly cleaning next week, let you get some rest."

"If you want."

Simon pulls the blanket up over your shoulders and turns off the bedside lamp. "Goodnight y/n."

You seek and find comfort in each other. Always having each other's backs. And being close to each other, feel the soft comforting touch. There was nothing better that cuddling up to Simon and snuggling the day away.

Platonic love is the best love!

😊😊😊

Remember to give your bestie a hug and tell them you love them!