#gree kitchen

[blue-eyes-never-lie]

[whisperofherbs]

Crown of summer

[twentytwo-onebee]

okay 🐻 in mind that we have SEVERAL stories left to go but 10/12 months into letters from watson, here are my top 10 stories in no particular order:

red-headed league

blue carbuncle

speckled band

copper beeches

the yellow face

greek interpreter

dancing men

solitary cyclist

charles augustus milverton

bruce partington plans

[k-star-holic]

⁇ Kim Gu la son ⁇ MC Gree, tobacco hurry up .. ⁇ ⁇ 90% Share investment ⁇ sigh (I'm a rapper ⁇ )

Source: k-star-holic.blogspot.com

[pawified]

omg had a thought abt joel ,, hve to get it out !

dad!joel miller & his daughter ( you ) , having a heart felt moment in the jackson hospital after he wakes up from the attack of abby & her friends ( minus the gunshot to his leg.)

you are sitting in the chair next to his bed, taking in the state he is currently in. He is taking small shallow breaths, his face is covered in bruises & cuts. you reach over to grab his hand, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze.

you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “i’m sorry i didn’t get there in time, if i had m-, you stop drawling in a deep breath to stop yourself from breaking down. “if i had maybe you wouldn’t be here.” you stare down at your connected hands, thinking if you stare longer maybe your dad will magically wake up.

“i need you. i’m sorry being such a shitty daughter. i’m sorry for everything i’ve put us, you through.“ you let out a sob confessing all your wrongs, like that would bring him back.

you lean forward, head laying on the edge of your father’s bed still holding his hand. you started thinking back to when you were a little girl, long before the outbreak happened and your older sister, sarah was still alive.

you were never a daddy’s girl. funny enough you were an older sister girl, due to the fact your father was always constantly working late and sarah being 14 at the time, had to be the one to take care of you.

but that all changed when the world went to shit and ended, and your sister died. you were only 6 at the time and never really processed what happened fully once you were old enough to understand what death was.

Sarah’s death affected you and joel both tremendously, joel never allowed you to speak about your sister and that led too you never processing it. you and joel bumped heads alot. you would always question if he was making the right decisions for you, and he would tell you that every decision he was making was to keep you safe, and that was all that matters.

joel knew the choice he made when he decided to take ellie with you both, and he also knew that his decision that he made in the hospital the fireflys were going to kill ellie in was going to catch up with him, but joel gree attached to ellie and he couldn’t let her die.

joel toke a life, in order to give a life.

you were angry at your dad for being so reckless. you remember the argument you and him had when you found out what he actually done in the hospital.

you and him were standing in the kitchen of your house back in jackson, fresh tears rolling down your face as your father stood with with a expression you couldn’t read. “ HOW COULD YOU LIE TO ME! I ASKED YOU WHAT HAPPENED AND YOU LIED!” you shouted. you were hurt, not because he lied but because you know how this will end for the both of you. for him.

joel takes a step towards you, he stops when he notices that you took a step back, “ i know. i know i lied, and i’m sorry but we can’t changed what happened” joel tried to reason with you but you were so fucking stubborn back then.

“ you risked everything, for a girl that isn’t even your daughter, you only think about yourself. did you know think about how i would feel? did you even stop to think about the consequences, you may face because of what you were about too do?” you questioned frustratedly, you walk past him, walking towards the front door looking over your shoulder “you and i both know how this ends and i refuse to watch someone i love die in front of me again.”

that was the last time you two ever talked before the events leading up too this.

you blamed ellie for everything that has happened to your father, you don’t know why. maybe because it was easier than anything else.

“if i could i would take it back, everything. all of it.” you spoke out loud too get no answer. you don’t know how long you layed there rambling out random things too your father.

you were talking about the time where you and sarah stole $60 bucks from him, when he questioned you two you both lied and said uncle tommy took it. “ yeah .. also remember that one time where u lost $60? well me and sarah lied and said it was uncle tommy took it when it was us.. “ you laughed softly.

as you said that you felt your dads hand twich. you stop and stare at him, in the hopes it was actually you that did that. this time he squeezes your hand, and coughs.

“you fucker.” his voice is horses and raw, “ i knew it was you two.” you jump up, “dad !” you wrap your arms around him and squeeze, “babygirl i can’t breathe” he chokes out. “right, sorry” you rush out apologetically, sitting back down in the chair.

joel looks over at you with a content look. it was the first time you two seen each other in weeks, joel has alot of regrets in his life, but the biggest one of them all is letting you walk out that front door.

you knew he wanted to say something but he couldn’t find the right words. you knew what he was trying to convey, you knew that he regretted ever letting you feel like he loved you less.

you reached over for his hand and gave a firm squeeze, a silent confirmation that you understood. He smiles gently, as he reachs over to kiss the top of your head.

there’s alot you two need to work on, but right now in the moment you are both thankful that you have each other again.

[queen-of-diamonds-xo]

Falling Hard- Newt x reader (The Maze Runner)

Summary: The day you entered the glade, Newt felt something inside him grow. A need to protect you, to see you smile and laugh, to hold you when nights were cold. It’s true, the boy had fallen for you, and he fell hard.

Warnings: implied depression (Newt my poor lil boy is sad) I do refer to the situation that got Newt his limp throughout this so please lovely’s, if you think this may trigger you move on <3

A/N: Hello lovely people! My first fic back on tumblr, what a time to be alive.

Greenie day was always tense in the Glade, a new boy stumbling around, breaking rules and asking way too many questions for anyone to bear. This Greenie day was especially hard for Newt, as it was the first since his ‘accident’. The boy reluctantly swings himself out of the hammock, sharp pain shooting through his left leg as it makes contact with the unstable, rocky ground. A constant reminder of that day, the day he had finally given up hope of ever escaping the maze.

He sighs as he stretches, twisting slightly as a satisfying crack comes from the boy's back. He rolls his head to the side, eyes closed as yet another sigh escapes his lips. The blonde boy looks around, smiling slightly at the sight of the Gladers asleep in their hammocks. ‘So peaceful, not for long though’, he thinks to himself.

The day drags by slowly as Newt attends to his garden, weeding and tilling soil. Occasionally helping Alby when the leader required it. Before long the all too familiar shrilling ring of the box alarm rings through the Glade, effectively stopping all the boys from their required tasks.

Newt makes his way over to the box, pushing his way through the crowd of curious boys. Murmurs breakout throughout the group, a light buzz falling over the glade as the boys speculate the fate of the incoming arrival.

“I hope he’s a good cook, I need some help in that shucking kitchen, you guys are animals sometimes.”

“I hope he cuts it as a builder, shuck knows we need a bit more brute strength around here.”

“He’s probably going to cut it as a slopper.”

Newt rolls his eyes at his friend's comments, his mind clouded by his own judgment.

The newly appointed second-in-command grumbles to himself; “Great, another boy who’s going to follow us around like a lost puppy until he finds his place in this shucking hell hole. Another boy to feed, to explain to that we are all trapped here with no escape. Just great.”

As the box comes to a halt a high pitched scream is heard, rumbling its way through the metal cage. Slight laughing breaks out among the group as someone shouts “The greenie screams like a shucking girl!”

“Slim it.” Alby announces to the group. “Gally, if you will.”

The builder opens the box, jumping down as the metal cage shakes under his heavy feet.

“Day one Gree-“ the boys sentence is cut short as a fist connects with his jaw. The builder to stunned to speak as his eyes scan over the new arrival. “Uh Alby, Newt, you might want to come take a look at this!” The boy shouts as the gladers calls and laughter ring through the glade.

Newt peers down, his heart stopping and stomach dropping as he inspects the scene below him. Huddled tightly in a corner, wielding a knife and shaking slightly was a girl. A shucking girl! He peers over at Alby, completely stunned and without a clue how to proceed.

“Alright slint heads, back to work. Things just got complicated.” Alby shouts to the gladers.

But none of them move, shell shocked as they stare at the new greenie.

“You heard him, back to work.” Newt announces, receiving grumbles from the boys as they reluctantly make their way from the box.

Newt makes his way into the box, looking over to Gally who only shrugs, rubbing his jaw slightly from the impact of the prior events. Newt makes his way over to the girl, whose eyes are wide with fear as she scans between the three boys in the box. As he takes another step the girl panics, holding the knife out further as she speaks. Voice hoarse from crying.

“Don’t come any closer, I'm warning you.”

The threat is empty as her voice cracks at the end, fresh tears making their way down the girl's stained cheeks.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s okay, we're not going to hurt you.” Newt speaks slowly proceeding closer to the girl, arms stretched out as if approaching a wild animal.

He slowly grabs the knife, throwing it away from her as he crouches down, grabbing the girl's hands as he does so. His kind eyes boring into her as he tilts his head to the side. She stares back at him, crystal orbs stained red from tears as her laboured breaths ring through the box.

Newts heart is beating so fast he’s afraid it might rip out of his chest, as he slowly rubs his thumb over the girls knuckles he can’t help the feeling of nostalgia that rushes over him. The feeling he gets is indescribable, like the first stretch of the morning, or watching the bright sun disappearing over the clouds only to be surrounded by millions of dazzling stars. The feeling of coming home to freshly baked cookies or sitting in front of a blazing fire. He sniffles slightly as tears sting in his eyes so overcome by emotion, his ears ring as his stomach twists.

Just one look at this girl and he knows, his life has been flipped upside down. And for a moment he’s falling, wind rushing through his hair as he screams to no one in particular. But this time he knows that when he lands, he wont be left broken on the cold stone walls. No, he wont be left broken again because maybe, just maybe, this new greenie was sent here to build him back up again.

[sleepy0s]

Its not called a Knife.

Pearl: Did you just refer to a knife as a “people-opener”?

YHS!Sam:

YHS!Sam: …Should I not have?

I have forcibly sat myself down and forced myself to write. So this might not be the best, I really need a schedule. Writer's block sucks. So does school. 

Hermits + YHS

Taurtis POV

~~~

Everyone was in the kitchen area, and by everyone I mean everyone who had weirdly appeared in our house over the weekend. (It is now wednesday. These strangers have been here since Saturday. help.) 

Xisuma, these peoples admin (Whatever an “Admin” is.) was leaning against the counter, on some fancy ipad full of numbers. Some zombie lady, a green guy, and some weirdo with broken wings (Cleo, Doc and Scar.) were all sitting on the sofa. And Grian, Sam and .. Pearl? Apparently it's pearl, not that Taurtis can speak, he's only seen photos of Grians sister, but she looks a lot different than in the photos.. Anyway! Those three are in the Kitchen making sandwiches.

I made my way into the kitchen, sitting on the counter near Xisuma.

“Where’s the ham?” Sam asked, looking through the fridge. That reminds me, we really need to go grocery shopping. “Should be behind the eggs.” Grian responded, not looking at Sam as he cut the cucumber, despite Pearl practically begging him to let her do it instead. Sam reached into the back of the fridge, grabbing out a plastic bag with some slightly soggy, maybe mouldy ham. 

“Ew! What is that?” Cleo gagged, looking over the sofa at the monstrosity in Sam’s hand.

“It's ham.. Obviously.” Sam rolled his eyes. 

Bored, I looked over at Xisuma’s ipad thingy. It was full of some fancy letters and characters, some of it was English, the rest some weird language that looked like Japanese but wasn’t. (Oh! I forgot to mention, Literally none of these people spoke Japanese. Not even Pearl. This wasn’t really an issue for Grian, as he's British. But me and Sam? Its torture! 

Secretly, I think grian is also struggling. We never speak English so I think the sudden change in needing to help translate is taking a toll on him. Poor Grian.)

I look back up at Sam, deciding that this guy’s ipad is hurting my brain. Sam, who was glaring at grian impatiently. “Gree-on! Hurry up! I need the people-opener for the Bread!” He whined, before shutting up as Grian handed it over to him.

“Pardon? Did- Did you just call the knife a people-opener?” Pearl stammered, eyes wide.

It took Sam a second to respond, trying to understand what she said. (see what I mean? Language barriers.) Eventually, Grian whispered it to him in Japanese, laughing.

Sam looked up at Pearl, head tilted at the taller girl. “Should I not call it a people-opener?”

“No!?” Pearl responded immediately.

[virtue-and-beneviolence]

TokRev Boys as (songs about) Cheaters (again)

but lil drabbles this time! (<400 words each) for multiple characters bc i haven't written anything in a whole ass while p suggestive at points and obviously lots of infidelity.

Follow me;; You're feelin guilty and I'm well aware; But you don't look ashamed and baby I'm not scared

“Baby,” his voice cooed into your ear, “hey, look at me.” You dug your face deeper in your lover’s neck to catch your breath from exertion taking advantage of your position on top of the man to dodge his eyes. You were sure that, given your history, when he felt the heat of your cheeks burn his neck he’d understand. And he did. He knew the weight of the rings nestled on your left hand were heavy with guilt. He knew you weren’t proud of how often you found yourself under him or in this case on top of him knowing your husband would be home in just two hours, hungry for the dinner you didn’t even care to start yet. But he also knew that when he was fucking you, you never looked so happy. He knew that you’d met your match with him, that your husband could never compare to him sexually. He knew you wanted, no needed, this arrangement even more than he did. “Come on angel, talk to me.” The dulcet tone he spoke in washed over you and with a sigh, you spoke slowly against the junction of his shoulder.

“You know already, s’just not right. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

He hummed at that and lifted your hips to slide himself from your warmth, “What’s not right is him having someone like you and not giving her what she needs.” He countered shaper than he meant to. Falling back into his routine of soothing your conscience, he softened, “I know you feel guilty,” he coaxed your head from his neck and brush some hair behind your ear, “but don’t deny yourself this tiny bit of happiness,” big hands cup your face and pull your foreheads together, “because he doesn’t know. He won’t know. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt any of us. And baby,” he brought his lips to ghost over yours, “I’m not scared of him.”

mikey, baji, RAN

Lips of an angel;; Well, my girl's in the next room/Sometimes I wish she was you/I guess we never really moved on

“Sweetheart, why’s your boss calling you so late?”

Oh. A half-rehearsed huff of annoyance left his lips as he thumped down the stairs of his shared apartment to pluck his vibrating phone from his girlfriend’s hand. “Who knows.” He grumbles and excuses himself with a pained smile.

Having safely absconded to his office, he picks up the phone, “Hey, it’s late, what’s up, angel?” His tone is hardly more than an airy whisper and tinted with concern at the edges. A soft whimper of his name puts him at full alert, but god he’d never get over hearing his name tumble for your lips, “Honey are you crying?” He curses the situation, knowing he can’t realistically leave his place at 10 pm to comfort the ex he’d never fallen out of love with under the pretense of work.  

You let out a whiny noise of disagreement and he snaps into understanding, imagining the way your teeth catch the plush of your lower lip with your hands between your thighs. “Oh, my girl’s needy.” He coos into the receiver, “You know,” his voice drops an octave and listens carefully for signs that his girlfriend was busying herself in the kitchen as he palms at himself, “I dreamt about you last night after you told me yours. Dreamt that you were my girl again. That I could paint that pretty pussy white whenever the fuck I wanted it.”

He never meant for things to go this far when he insisted you two ‘stay friends’ when you broke things off, but fuck if it didn’t feel like the most rewarding gamble of his life every single time he got to hear your adorable pitchy sounds when he made you cum. Even if it was sparsely in person these days.

draken, MITSUYA, kakucho

Got my number;; If you need someone who can love you while he's gone/Baby, you got my number, got my number

Your fingers hover over your keyboard, inspecting the generic greeting text you’ve typed out for the fourth time and once again find some flaw. Or, maybe it wasn’t a flaw in the text but your conscience telling you to keep you proverbial mouth shut and not reach out to the hot guy you hit it off with at that girls’ night out a week ago. You don’t get to consider the origin of the feeling that keeps you tapping backspace with fervor for long, however, because suddenly you see the green ring around his profile picture in your messaging app. He’s in the chat. He’s seeing you flounder. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You close the app and throw your phone at the other end of the couch. Fuck it. No booty call is worth that shame, especially with the stakes as high as they were with your boyfriend’s uncertain business travel plans. Forget it. It was stupid to take that chance anyw-

Your damned phone rings and you know exactly who it is before you even look. You answer with the most obvious faux unbothered “hello” that has ever been spoken and curse your nerves for betraying you.

“Darling,” his voice drawls and you can hear his fucking smirk, “I may bite, but I don’t judge. Now what was it you were wanting to ask?” He questioned, fully aware of your answer.

“I thought about your offer the other night and thought we could maybe meet in the middle and hang out sinc-“

“Since your bed is empty?”

“-Since I happen to not have plans and could use some entertainment.” You said with a diplomatic and only mildly indignant tone to hide the embarrassment of being seen through.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can take you to that nice Italian place ya told your friends he’d never agree to go to. You can pretend we’re having a nice proper date before I fuck you senseless. How’s that sound?”

SHUJI, inui, RINDOU

So that's a thing I did.

[myocsfanfictions]

South Side Story

Shameless Fanfiction Season 1

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

Warning: This chapter contains smut

MASTERLIST

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Chapter 19

"Fiona knows," Desna heard Lip say after the door of her house opened. The girl was in the kitchen, writing a french essey, "And I know you know," he said before taking a chair sitting next to her.

"I'm sorry," she said looking at him, "She saw us kissing," Lip nodded his head, before shrugging his shoulder.

"It's alright," that made her gree eyes grew large.

"Really?" she said tilting her head to a side, "It's not a problem for you?"

"No," he answered, before his hand moved to the back of her neck, lightly pulling her so that she could move closer, "It'll be easier now," he whispered before pushing his lips against hers. Desna smiled against the kiss, as she her hand moved to rest on his chest.

"Have you already told Vee and Kev?" he asked, his forehead against hers.

"Not yet," she answered, "They've been busy."

The night before, when Vee and Kev went to the Gallaghers they both said that there would have been no wedding. But then they went upstairs with Fiona and when they came down they were having a wedding again. A fake one.

Carol had promised them money, and during a wedding they could recieve many gifts. It was smart. Free stuffs were always welcomed.

"Carol wanted for them to talk with her priest," Desna said with a snort.

"Shit," Lip said with a chuckle, his eyes following her as she went to the kitchen to take two beers.

"Vee's confident that she will talk Carol out of it," she said, handing him the beer.

Lip looked her with a smirk, "So the nice dress thing stays?" Desna giggles shaking her head.

"It stays, but stop flirting," she said, pointing at her essey, "I've to finish this," Lip took a sip of his beer, then he leaned over to take a look at the paper.

"French," he said taking a look.

"Do you speak it?" she asked observing his eyes, scanning the paper, before nodding his head.

"When I finished the physics program, I've read a grammar book," he said that as if it was nothing, but he was actually amazing. He had been able to study on his own the entire programm of maths and physics, even of the years ahead of his. He was taking the tests for many students for the admission at university and she knew that he not only passed, he topped them all.

Her hand moved to the back of his hair, her fingers through his hair, "How smart are you?"

"Very," he answered with a smirk, turning to look at her. And Desna chuckled.

"But you're not half bad yourself with languages," Lip said leaning closer.

"Oh, thank you," she looked at him amused. Lip chuckled, before kissing her cheek. Desna smiled, before he kissed her lips. The girl relaxed against the kiss, moving her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. There was no use, as they were close to each other they'd end up all over each other.

"I thought you had to study," he said against her lips, but his arm moved around her hips. Desna nodded her head, bringing back to the kiss.

"I didn't tell you I'm taking anatomy, and I really need to study," she whispered making him let out a low chuckle.

"Do you know?" he asked touching her cheeks with his hands. She kissed his palm.

"You wanna fuck me against the counter?" she asked with a smirk.

"Fuck, yeah," he said before pulling her against his lips. Desna let out a yelp, because of the sudden action. They kissed deeply, before Lip brought her to stand up. His lips attached to her neck, her eyes closed enjoying the sensation. Desna's hands moved to the hem of his shirt, touching his skin as she pulled the cloth up, until she managed to take it off of him. He let go of her to allow her to do so, before pulling her close once again. Desna moaned against his lips, when one of his hand took one of her breasts in its hold.

"You're not wearing a bra," he whispered, kissing her neck once again, "Naughty," he played with her breast some more, before helping her to take off her shirt too. He stared at her breast for a moment, before pulling her close, so that their bare skins touched each other. Desna loved that contact. Feeling his skin on hers was one of the things that she loved the most.

Then her hand moved to the front of his jeans, touching his hard on through the pans. Lip cursed, before his hand moved inside of her gymnastic suit pans.

"Shit, you're already wet," he said, as she moaned feeling his fingers touching her core.

"Please," she begged him against his lips. She didn't want to wait, she wanted him now.

"You want me to fuck you?" he asked starting to move his fingers against her clit. She gasped, her hands gripped the skin of his back, probably leaving marks.

"Fuck me, Lip," she moaned.

Lip smirked before hepling her out of her pans, their lips never left each other in the process and she did the same with his. Opening the button of his jeans, dragging them down along with his boxers.

"I want you so fucking bad," he said, pushing her against the counter. She moaned as he took one of her legs, pulling it up so that he could allign with her entrance. With a swift movement of his hips, he thrusted up into her.

"Oh, shit," she moaned and he groaned against the skin of her neck. She could feel his breath against her, and she could feel him buried deep inside her. God, she loved to have him like this.

"Please, Lip," she whispered, moving her hips against his, makign him moaned.

"You can't wait," he chuckled, before thrusting up against her, making all her body jerked againt the counter.

"God, you feel so good," she said as he moved his hips in and out of her. His hold on her thigh was tight, the other hand was behind her so that he could have a better leverage to move his hips. Everytime he thrusted up, shameful moanes left Desna's mouth. Her eyes closed, and her hands moved to his asscheeks to help as he moved.

"Fuck, Des!" he moaned, looking down at himself disappearing inside of her, "Shit, this is amazing," she moaned, moving her hips so that she could meet his thrust better, to chase her release.

"Oh, fuck, Lip," she gasped, before pulling him closer so that she could kiss his lips. He was hitting her so sweetly, she was sure she wouldn't have last long, "Take me from behind," she said against his lips, "Please, fuck me from behind," he didn't need any other word. He pull out of her, turning her using the hands on her hisp, pushing her front against the counter, his lips attacked her neck, before pushing himself inside of her. Desna moaned, loudly, gripping the counter hard. His hands gripped her hips, as he started to pound inside of her, fast and hard, making her moan with every moviment. She bent just enough to feel him go deeper, her eyes closed as her body jerked forward.

"Fuck, I want to see you cum so much," he said attacking her neck again. Her only answer was a moan, "You wanna cum?" he asked as one of his hands moved to her front, rubbing her clit.

"Yes, Lip, fuck!" she cryed, feeling overwelmed buy all the things he was foing to her body, "Please, let me cum! Let me cum!" she said, feeling her legs starting to shake, and the knot in her belly forming.

"Shit," he muttered against her ear, "You're so beautiful when you beg," she moaned, the moviment of his hips were perfect along side his fingers, "Fuck, I'd fuck you all day."

"Lip, don't stop," she said, trying all her best to move her hips with his, but her moviment were really erratic. She could feel it, "I'm cumming, God yes!" she cryed.

"Fuck, let it go," he said his hips hitting her hard, "Let me see how you cum," she didn't hold it in anymore. Her climax hit her hard and soon after she felt him following her. Her breath was laboured and her legs were shaking, and she had to grip the counter hard to keep stady.

"Shit," she chuckled and she soon heard him do the same, as he kissed her shoulder, bringing her up against his chest, hugging her from behind.

"That's nice," he muttered against her ear. Desna smiled, putting her hands over his, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her body. Her head against his shoulder.

Suddenly the buzzing sound of a phone made him let out a little groan.

"Someone's looking for you," she said turning to give him a kiss on the cheek, then she started to pick up her clothes from the ground.

"Ah, shit," he mutteres as he took the phone in his hand, "I forgot I had to see Karen."

Desna didn't turn, just because she didn't want him to see the smile that had appeared on her lips.

That's a shame, she thought, but she didn't say anything as she pulled her pants up.

"You going?" she asked, her tone calm as she waited for an answer.

Lip took a breath, "No," he said after a moment, "I'll call her later."

Desna nodded her head fixing her shirt. She turned, now observing Lip as he go dressed as well. She could feel the smile on her own lips, but she didn't say anything as she went to her phone on the table. She reached out to take it when she noticed she had recieved a message from Vee.

"They are coming back," Desna said, looking at Lip, "At your house."

"You think they made it?" Lip asked and Desna shrugged her shoulders.

"I really don't know," she said honestly.

Desna and Lip made their way towards the Gallaghers' house, and when they entered they noticed Debbie on the couch playing with the new doll that Steve had bought her. The girl smiled at Desna when she saw her.

"Gotta go upstairs real quick. Wanna eat something?" Lip asked and Desna nodded her head, "Alright, Debbie you on?"

"Sure," the little girl said, taking Desna by the hand, leading her into the kitchen.

"Hi, Fi," Desna greeted the oldest Gallagher that was feeding Liam. The girl turned to her looking from Desna to the stairs, figuring that she had seen her brother, but she smiled none the less. Desna felt a little awkward for Fiona knowing that her and Lip were having sex. Maybe she was overthinking it, but it was actually strange.

As they made their way into the kitchen, the backdoor opened to reveal an annoyed Vee.

"Wedding's not gonna work," she said.

"Why?" Desna asked immediately followed by Fiona.

"What happened?"

"Mama wants a real priest," Vee explained, before walking towards the fridge. Desna looked at her as she passed Debbie some bread, for her to make a paenut butter and jelly sandwitch. Carol really cared about this stuffs. That was a problem.

"Sheila said she'd make your wedding dress if you want," Debbie said and Desna forced herself not to roll her eyes. Shiela was a really sweet woman, her was not the probelm. It was the fact that even during her guardians wedding day, Karen Jackson would have been there. But she took a breath, deciding to ignore that thought.

"Oh, that's nice," Vee said, "But what's good is a dress if I don't have a priest?"

"You could hire an actor," Debbie said, as Lip had got back down the stairs, touching Desna's hip as he passed by her.

"That's not a bad idea, Vee," the girl said turning to Veronica, who was pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah," Debbie said, "Remember the guy who played Elmo at my birthday party?"

Fiona frowned, "You remember that?"

"He took his head of," Debbie stated as a matter of fact, "It was traumatizing."

"I bet it was," Desna muttered, caressing the girl's hair.

"Think an actor could work?" Fiona turned to ask to Vee.

"You know what?" Lip said from next to Desna, "I can probably get Father Pete to do it, if Carl will help."

Desna's eyes widened looking at the boy.

"What's it gonna cost me?" Vee asked. Desna looked at Lip, frowning when he glanced at her for a moment before answering Veronica.

"Uh... Karen and I use your place Friday?" at that Desna let out a scoff. Of course Vee agreed, but she didn't noticed the look Desna and Fiona shared with each other.

It was always awful to hear. Everytime she thought they were getting closer, Lip pulled away. Rubbing it into her face. But Desna decided not to say nothing, focusing her attention on help Debbie with her sandwich.

"Father Pete is a grooper," Desna said not looking up at Lip.

"God willing," he answered. She could feel his gaze on her, but she didn't turn.

"You're unbelieveble," she muttered, before noticing Carl entering the kitchen, with a jar in his hands. They all turned to look at him, when they noticed that in the jar that was a goldfish and that he had put it into the microwave, turning it on.

"What?" Carl asked as he noticed all their gazes.

Desna shook her head, "I gotta go home," she said, "Finishing my essay," Vee nodded telling her that they would have seen each other later.

"Your sandwitch," Debbie reminded her and Desna took it, giving a kiss on her hair. Then she waved to everyone, before giving a last glare at Lip then turning to walk towards the door.

*****************************************

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[dearestones]

Whether Brown or Weird (Agatsuma Zenitsu x Reader)

Warnings: Fluff, takes place after Entertainment District Arc. 

Synopsis: As one of the servants of the Butterfly Mansion, you’re tasked with a number of duties. Sometimes, that includes listening to the woes of some of the swordsmen under your care. 

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“Am I ugly?”

You looked up from your needlework, the thread pulling taut against the needle. In the infirmary, there were several beds that had been recently made and vacated, evidence that your workload was rather light. Despite how bare the room may have looked, you knew better than to feel bored or lonely in this space. During a time when demons roamed and most humans were oblivious of their existence, this was a blessing that most demon slayers would not have been able to fully embrace most of their lives. 

As a servant working in the Butterfly Mansion, you helped with the upkeep and the maintenance of this safe haven. Even if your role was relatively small compared to the swordsmen who braved the many haunts of suspected demon sightings, you knew that your part to play still provided aid to those who needed it most. 

Today, you had been tasked with mending uniforms that still had hope of being salvaged after many run-ins with demons. Usually, you would have proceeded with your tedious task in your rooms or in the kitchens where you could keep Aoi company. Today, you resolved to observe the three young men who came into Lady Shinobu’s care after Lord Tengen’s stint at Yoshiwara’s Entertainment District. 

All three of the young warriors were mid-ranked, but you could immediately tell that they had skills beyond your level of comprehension. Their muscles were toned and bulky, faces lined with fatigue and weariness after having disposed of not one, but two upper ranked demons. You had the pleasure of monitoring their care a few months ago when you had first been hired as extra help, but the differences were astounding. 

They were growing stronger.

When you had first arrived, a basket filled to the brim with a combination of their uniforms interspersed with other slayers’ garments, all three of them had been sound asleep in their cots. Despite their protests, the three younger servant girls had made sure that they were given enough medications that they would surely have been knocked out for at least a day or two. Their hope was short lived, you couldn’t help but think. 

The moment that you stepped inside the room, the blond demon slayer (Mr. Agatsuma, if you recall from past interactions) had twitched and sighed. At first, you thought about turning tail and alerting Aoi or any of the three younger girls that Mr. Agatsuma was waking, but no sooner did the thought cross your mind that he ceased moving. You chuckled to yourself, you must have been really on edge if you were so quick to call for someone!

You settled on a chair nearest to the blond in case he should wake and then started your process. 

For the most part, your work kept your hands busy, but your mind free. Aside from the steady breathing of each of the swordsmen (you overheard some slayers calling their technique as recovery breathing), you heard the wind rustling three branches outside. A quick glance up confirmed that the windows were opened, which alayed the rise in your heartbeat. After a while, you fell into a rhythm of piercing the black cloth with your needle, pulling it through as the thread followed, and then pulling everything taut to make sure the rip closed and lined up neatly. Mistakes were rare, but you were loathe to allow your mind to wander too far as to suddenly create an unwelcome surprise in the future. 

Engrossed as you were into your work, it would have been easy for any of your coworkers to sneak up on you…

Or if a certain demon slayer was looking at you, mesmerized by your willing presence at his side. 

So when he asked that question “Am I ugly?”, you had no idea if you should smack him for interrupting your work without so much as a greeting or to calm your breathing first. Eventually, rationality won out. Despite such a blunt question and the rude contest in which he was asking, he was still an injured patient who still needed at least a week full of rest before anyone could even think about pushing him to his limit. Furthermore, maybe he was delirious. Changes in mental health could be as much to blame for odd questions. 

“Mr. Agatsuma, why do you ask that?” You peered closely at him, your eyebrows furrowed and your needle settled neatly into one of the seams of a jacket you were mending. Beside you, your basket was still somewhat overflowing with clothing, but you chose to ignore it for now. 

The young man fiddled with his fingers, his dark eyes focused on the ceiling above him. From what little you knew of him (and based on numerous anecdotes from the three young servant girls), he was supposed to be a loudmouthed young man who wore his heart on his sleeve. Often, he would whine and beg to stay in bed longer so as to shirk his practices as a swordsmen, but that was early on in his career. Before his joint mission with Lord Tengen, Mr. Agatsuma had been in top form with the rest of the trio—albeit, still whining and pessimistic at times. Honestly, you didn’t have much of an opinion of him, but you knew that his efforts to stave off demons in the world was already far greater than yours.

In front of you was a person who had the strength and the skill to slay demons. Even if his over enthusiastic nature concerning women was a bit over the top and turned most people off, he was still a genuinely good person. That was more than what you could say for some of the other war hardened members of the organization. 

“I… Did you hear about the debriefing about our last mission?”

You shrugged. As a servant, most higher ranked members would not have bothered to fill you in on the minute details, but you did know about the destruction wrought in Yoshiwara and that you narrowly escaped being escorted into the Entertainment District by Lord Tengen himself. It only took a few moments to connect the dots and direct confirmation from Lord Tengen to realize that Mr. Agatsuma and the others had to crossdress as young women in order to lure the demons out from their hiding spot. 

“All three of you and Lord Tengen fought bravely against some higher ranked demons.” A small, but genuine smile lit up your face and when you glanced down at Mr. Agatsuma, you could have sworn that his pale features were dusted a pale pink. “For that, Lady Shinobu and the other Hashira are grateful.”

“Yeah… Yeah, we did an all right job.” He sounded unsure. 

“Who told you that you were ugly?” You plucked your unused needle from where you had last pierced the uniform and waved it in the light. “If you want, I can give them a stern talking to.”

The fight must have taken a lot out of him because instead of putting on an act on how grateful he was that you were willing to defend him or maybe even grace you with a tearful display of how scary you acted, he simply deflated and looked even more morose than ever. Besides the less than bombastic disposition from your very first appearance to now, this is what tipped you off that something was terribly wrong. 

Mr. Agatsuma should never look so downtrodden and defeated like this. 

And yet—-

It was like you were meeting him for the first time. 

Like this was a part of him that was just as real as his emotional outbursts. 

“Mr. Agatsuma,” you tried again when he didn’t answer. Leaning forward when you were already so close should have elicited a reaction from him, but instead he seemed to cower away from your actions. “Even if they said you’re ugly—” You held his hand, a part of you somewhat taken aback by your boldness, but otherwise in control of the situation. “—I don’t think you are. And if you ask Aoi or any of the girls—maybe even Lady Shinobu!—I think they would agree with me. Besides, not all women prefer looks over personality.”

For the first time, the blond swordsmen seemed to brighten and underneath the midmorning sunlight, he was just as radiant. Even his smile, which was smaller than normal, was steps above the wallow that he had been stuck in. 

“So you don’t mind my hair?”

You blinked, your hand reflexively tightening over his in surprise. 

“Your hair? They didn’t like your hair?” 

His hair was one of the most striking things about him. Rumor had it that he had been struck by lightning during training one day and that’s how his locks became golden. In fact, the trio of swordsmen that he was part of each had their own respective features that made them stand out: their hair in particular was a topic of debate. You couldn’t imagine anyone thinking that his hair was ugly. The shade may not have been everyone’s preference, but you found that both the texture and the golden hue nicely contrasted his soulful brown eyes. If anything, the ladies in Yoshiware should have been fawning over the color. 

“But… Do you?’

Ah, if only Mr. Agatsuma was this subdued whenever he was pursuing women. If he did, you were more than certain that he would have a horde of young women hounding after him. 

You squeezed his hand once more, his skin rough and hardened from years of training, but still comforting to the touch. 

“I think the first thing I noticed about you was your hair!” The blush on his face was fetching; you knew you had to continue. “It reminds me of the sun, you know? Or candlelight! Something warm and very inviting. Beautiful, too.”

Redder and redder, his cheeks looked like they were about to combust in flames. Nursing may not have been your main priority at the moment, but even the hand that you felt was higher in temperature. Was he sick? Should you get Aoi? Or any of the three servant girls to tend to him?

Before you could leave and ask for help, you felt him tug you into his chest with strength that should not have been possible so soon after battle. If it were anyone else, maybe you would have felt flustered at your compromising position, but you were more than aware that he meant no harm. You could only hope to keep most of your weight off him despite his insistence on tugging you closer.

“Thank you, thank you! The women there just kept calling me ugly! Even the demon said so! And if that weren’t enough, even that stupid Hashira said that they could use me to scrub toilets!” On and on he went, complaining between compliments on how you were as beautiful as you were kind. 

It looked like he was going to recover soon enough.

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KIMETSU NO YAIBA (DEMON SLAYER) MASTERLIST

[mangoshorthand]

No Hard Feelings- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch4

SUMMARY: You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. Funny how what we want and what we need are rarely in line. (Five's physically aged up). Obvious smut warning but there's plot too, I swear! Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five- Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

In this chapter, it's Tuesday and you made Five wait. You're expecting one visitor but the second is a surprise.

Smut below. Proceed at your own risk. They're actually screwing this time! 😲

Chapter Four: Working With Groragne

You’re enjoying a glass of malbec. You haven’t changed, wearing the same pencil skirt, blouse and mid heels you wore for work. What are you supposed to wear in this situation? You’d needed the wine to calm your nerves. You’ve been half aroused, half anxious all day. You're playing music and keep glancing over at the digital display, unconsciously clock-watching. 

At 19:58, you hear an impatient knock. Something about it makes you think he’s been standing there a while, knocking as much before eight as his pride will allow. Placing your wine glass on the table, you cross to the front door.

Again, he stands in your doorway. Another nondescript suit, the jacket held over one arm and shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow. You wonder briefly if his wardrobe is all black and navy suits, like a cartoon character.

“Wine?” you ask, “I have- “

“Nope.”

A flash of light and an electric whoosh and suddenly you’re slammed hard into the wall between your kitchen and bedroom. It knocks the wind out of you, but he’s on you. He’s kissing you too hungrily to allow you to catch your breath. More than once, his teeth graze your lips, hard. He deepens the kiss. Needy, insistent, he pushes you inexorably into the wall, as if he’s trying to force your two bodies into one. His long-fingered hands stop caressing your hips, thighs and breasts and come to rest on each side of your head. He scrunches your hair between his fingers and pulls a little harder than playfully.

A low gasp rumbles deep in his throat as he returns to the attack. You take every spare moment he gives you to whoop in air. There aren’t many, and they’re punctuated by hard bites to the back side of your neck. You can feel him getting more turned on as you let out tiny pained noises in response to his teeth. You know you’ll have to wear your hair down for at least the next week.

At last, he comes up for air, breathing hard through his nose. Up until now, it’s been his upper body forcing yours flat against the wall. Now, giving you breathing room, he shifts his weight through his pelvis, grinding his crotch into your hip. For the second time, you feel him stiff against you. This time the pressure’s firm and absolutely deliberate.

With his brow furrowed in mock wrath, he murmurs:“ You made me wait.”

He hasn’t let go of your hair. You try to say something, but either the breath or the right words don’t come. He helps.

"You ok? Color?”

“Gree-orange.” you stammer, changing your mind at the last second. It might feel like your entire vulva is on fire, but his ferality was unexpected.

He allows himself a single exhale of laughter, “I can work with grorange. Now, take off your panties. Leave everything else on." 

You reach up your skirt and pull your panties down, stepping out of them.

"Good."

Suddenly, abruptly, he pulls your left leg up and around his waist. You overbalance- or would, were he not holding you. You suddenly become aware of his strength. His slight build and structured suit-jackets belie the muscle tone underneath. Looking down, you see the muscles and tendons standing out in his forearms, taught. Almost as if the skin can’t contain them.

He pulls you higher and your legs wider apart. He’s not gentle and his rough handling splits your skirt up the back seam.

“Five!” you yell, indignant. He responds only by pressing into you harder and allowing your right leg to find the floor. Eyes glinting evilly, he looks you straight in the face as he grabs the torn seam and pulls, ripping your skirt until only the waistband holds it on. He cocks an eyebrow and gives you a grin.

“It was getting in my way.”

His hand creeps between your legs.

“God, you’re dripping,” he loads as much derision as he can into the single word, laughing malevolently.

He strokes a single finger gently up and down your slit. He puts on a mocking pout as he says: 

“Are we nice and wet for Daddy?”

You nod, but he tilts his head: I can’t hear you.

“Yes,” you croak, hoping it will satisfy him.

As his index finger applies the lightest touch, you buck your hips forward. You've never wanted a man to touch you as much as right now.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he chides, shaking his head and withdrawing his finger.

His eyes lock yours again. He knows he’s won the unspoken challenge. He has you just where he wants you and enjoys that knowledge. He lowers his voice to just above a whisper.

“You know what to say.”

You feel the heat rise to your face as you murmur, “I’m wet for you Daddy.”

“Yes you are. Wet like a little slut?”

You don’t wait to be prompted this time. Desperation for him to renew his caresses outweighs your humiliation…or is it the humiliation that makes you desperate?

“Please Daddy? I’m your little slut and I’m wet for you.”

Hearing yourself give in has an electric effect on your pussy. You feel it throb, an epicenter for shockwaves that tingle all the way up into your stomach and down your legs, pleasure radiating outwards. You feel a corresponding gush, and you’re sure his finger must be dripping now too.

“Good girl,” he croons, stroking your slit again, his finger quickly finding your engorged clit.

He works slowly, gently, swirling his finger. He works you to a feverish pitch before sliding his finger down to your hole, taking a moment to circle your sensitive inner labia. He wiggles the index finger against you, letting you know what’s going to happen before it does. Then, torturously slowly, he slides it in.

He continues at a languid pace. It's maddeningly too little. At the apex of his movements, he crooks the tip of his finger, almost absent minded. But for his face, you might believe he was absent minded. He studies your expression, watching your reaction to every micro movement of his hands. He looks detached, scientific; like a physicist taking notes on an interesting experimental outcome.

“You’re going to need more than one, aren’t you?”

This time, your desperate nod satisfies him. Abruptly, he removes his finger. Your breathy cry at the loss is stifled at once as he returns to your clit. He’s no longer experimenting; he's frigging you concertedly. His middle and index fingers strum a steady rhythm as you writhe onto them. Your orgasm builds, you surrender more of your weight to the wall and his arms

“Don’t stop!”

He doesn’t. You let yourself go. Wave after wave of pleasure cascade through your every cell. You buck wildly, your still-heeled right foot sliding slightly on the floor. Then, as mingled supplications and obscenities pour from your mouth, he suddenly changes tac, those two fingers abruptly entering your pussy. Here again he dispenses with teasing, pleasuring you deftly and efficiently until you go limp in his arms, the second orgasm a less intense but deeper pleasure, resonating through you like some kind of choral hymn. 

He removes his fingers and presents them to your mouth.

“Clean your come off me,” you open your mouth and he pushes them in, “suck them.”

You oblige, humiliation making the mingled taste of your juices and his fingers even more erotic. He pushes his fingers in deep before removing them.

He steps away, leaving you to catch your breath against the wall. After a single moment to take you in, he strolls to the coffee table and picks up your half-empty wine glass. He throws it back in one swallow, making a face.

“Ugh. Next time, I’ll choose the wine,” he says, slamming the glass down.

“Snob,” you manage, before he gives his next orders.

“Kneel.”

You kneel, watching greedily as his slightly unsteady hands undo the button and zip on his suit pants. From the plain white underwear, now just visible, he finally pulls out his dick.

The uncut five and a half inches stands proud from his pants, curving slightly to the left. It looks painfully, strainingly hard. Its soft patch of hair curls neatly at the base. You feel your mouth water and you swallow involuntarily.

He approaches, stroking himself just a little. It’s the way he holds it that you notice. Confidently; like he intends to use it.

As he looms over you, your eyes turn, unconsciously to the freezer: you knelt like this with his gun to your head. He notices and withdraws slightly.

“Are you ok?”

You nod slowly and then drag your eyes back to his. He holds your gaze.

“We can move if you want?”

You respond by leaning forward and taking his dick into your mouth, teasing the head with your lips and tongue. His skin is soft and warm. Not expecting it, he arches his back and lets out a tiny, contented sigh, as if home after a long day.

“Mmmm. Fu-uck”

Hands laced once again in your hair, he watches the lips that dared speak back to him now wrapped around him. Around his aching cock: where they so clearly belong. He lets you suck him for a while, enjoying for the moment that you're kneeling there just to pleasure him, working so hard to make him come, the eyes he couldn't forget studying his face, altering what you do to service him better based on his tiniest looks and moans. It's too much, thinking like that with the soft wet heat around him; it's too good when the head of his dick is already tingling.

“I’m close”, he says, casually. “And I want to fuck your face.”

You remove him from your mouth with a wet sound that makes his cock twitch.

“Green.”

He takes one of your hands and places it on his leg, warm and firm beneath his pants.

“Tap me if you need me to stop.”

You accept him again into your mouth, taking him as far as you can. Your nose meets his trimmed curls and his clean, pheromone scent fills your senses intoxicatingly.

As he looks down at you again, he squeezes your hair between his fingers, holding you firmly. He begins to use your face, stroking it up and down his cock while pushing his hips forward. He lets out grunts as he does so; low little 'Ohs' of satisfaction. It's like being a human fleshlight and the thought makes your nipples harden. You feel the head of his dick ramming the back of your throat. You try to breathe through your nose and power through but it’s soon unbearable. As your gag reflex begins to take over, you pat his thigh and he allows you to pull your head away, eyes streaming and taking steading breaths.

“I’m so close.”

A whine edges into his voice and precome beads the end of his dick, invitingly. After a few moments, you catch your breath and use the tip of your tongue to lap up the little drop. This earns you a little stroke through your hair.

"Such a good girl," he whispers, throatily.

Showing him how good you can be, you swallow him again. this time, he tilts your head back and pushes you down to a lower kneel. It makes it easier; you’re able to cope as he slams himself as deep into your face as he can.

“Take more you fucking whore, take all of Daddy’s dick. Ahh-ha you’re such a good little bitch. Such a good-fucking-dirty-whore- slutty-bitch…”

As he devolves into word-salad, his hips surge forward and you feel him spurting against your throat. He slackens, moaning, pulling back to ride out his orgasm in your mouth. The salty taste makes your pussy tingle all over again.

He pulls out and immediately covers himself. As he rights his pants, he strides to the door, grabbing his abandoned jacket and stooping to pick up your panties.

“Thanks," he winks, shoving them in his waistcoat pocket, "I'll probably see you on Thursday.”

The door opens and then shuts. He’s gone abruptly and you’re still kneeling there, some of his come dripping stickily down your chin.

It was harsh, but probably wise. 

He thinks this as he hails a cab. When he climbs in, he’s thinking he should have at least stayed long enough to get her a washcloth. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do. 

As the cab pulls away, he thinks that’s bullshit. This wasn’t exactly a ‘gentlemanly’ arrangement. She knows what this is: if she wants ‘gentlemanly’ then she can get a boyfriend.

He drummed his fingers erratically on his knee. 

How was he supposed to know where she kept her washcloths anyway? She could get her own damn washcloth. He’s upholding his end of the bargain just fine. He’d felt the power of her orgasm in the tight, clenching around his fingers- he didn’t need any more evidence that he was delivering on his side of things.

Though he recently came, the reminiscence makes his dick show weary interest…though perhaps not so weary. He’s suddenly very aware of her panties in his waistcoat pocket. 

She has nice eyes.

He pushes the thought away, replacing it with more appropriate ones. She has nice tits, nice legs, a nice round ass and she sucked his cock like a champ. That’s what he should be focusing on.

He looks out of the cab’s window, watching the city go by morosely. 

…Should he have left immediately after calling her a whore? He can’t even recall what else he called her as he came. 

The way she smiled when she called him a snob. It was undeniably cute, he could acknowledge that, but it didn’t mean anything. They were just two adults in a mutually beneficial arrangement and he was maintaining boundaries: keeping things nice and clear for her. 

He sighed.

Having sex in this body is usually odd. When it was seventeen or so, he had a raft of one night stands just because he could get away with saying it was older. It felt all wrong though: he was detached from the experience. He imagined it was how a ghost must feel when possessing Klaus: he was able to feel all the sensations but felt that he had no right to be there, that he’d stolen it from someone else. In Five’s case, the body was stolen it from the teenage runaway he’d once been. It wasn’t really him.

Today was different, though. This whole experience was different from start to finish. The way the body seemed to take over where she was concerned…it horrified and fascinated him. He got caught up in the sensation in a way he hadn’t with any of the others: the feel of her, her little noises and the way he looked at him…he’d been so focused on them that, for a moment, he forgot the fundamental wrongness of his physicality. 

Again, he chased away the pointless thoughts. When all is said and done, you only show physical affection to the people you love. And he simply isn’t available in that way. His heart isn’t free for the taking. It would be wrong of him to make her think it might be.

But still, the sight of her kneeling on the floor, watching him leave with that confused expression keeps replaying in his mind.

 He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

There’s a knock only ten minutes after he left.

By now, you’ve cleaned yourself up, disposed of the ruined skirt and wrapped yourself in your bathrobe. Could he have reconsidered his hasty exit? It was hard to know how to feel about it. It was true that it was a casual encounter, but you hadn’t expected him to be so clinical at the end; to make such an abrupt departure. 

You cross to the door, a smile forming on your face, but when you open it, it’s someone else. A woman.

Her outstretched hand shoots through the door.

“Hi, I’m Lila.”

Almost before you can shake her hand in bewilderment, she barrels over the threshold. You step aside sharply for fear of being knocked over.

“Sorry to drop in on you like this. Just needed a chat.”

“Who are-“

“I told you, I’m Lila!” and then, “I know Five.”

From what you know of Five, this isn’t exactly reassuring, so you eye her warily.

She walks to the living space, looks around with an air of assessment, and turns to face you.

“So, weird thing number one: Five takes a job and doesn’t carry it out- hence you standing here. Weird thing number two: He meets you for a milkshake and now you’re best friends or something?”

Your mind races. Could Five have lied? Is the contract on you really canceled? Who is this woman? You can feel panic starting to build for the third time in the past few days.

“What do you want?” you say, stepping backwards.

If Lila notices, she doesn’t pay your fear any mind. 

“Usually when Five acts shady the world is about to go bye-bye, so I just had to know what that cunt was doing here at…”

She trails off, taking in your appearance.

“No way...is he fucking you?”

“N-”

“OH MY GOD HE’S FUCKING YOU!!” 

She shrieks with laughter before putting both hands on your shoulders, gleeful.

“Oh god! It looks like a baby mouse, right? Like a fucked-up baby mouse? Please tell me it looks like a baby mouse!”

“I-”

“What’s he got on you? Surely nobody’s going to fuck that unless they had to?”

“N-no, we-“

“So you’re taking one for the team? Sort of like a public service to all women?”

“I don’t-“

“Well, you’ve got awful taste but welcome to the clan! I’m with his brother.” 

She seems genuinely excited. She’s volatile, but excited.

She throws herself onto your couch, legs on the coffee table.

“You know, I’m honestly glad. I thought he was only into dolls. Couldn't help thinking about it- what if I'm downstairs eating dinner and he's up there in the attic banging something he had to order special from Japan?" she shudders, laughingly.

Your face prompts her to continue.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? His last girlfriend was a mannequin, honey. You’ve already got her beat on personality. Poor little bastard gets lost in the apocalypse, goes batshit insane and carries a department store dummy around for forty years. Called it Dolores.”

You knew about the apocalypse. He'd told you that much when explaining his age...but a mannequin? 

She chortles, grabbing an empty glass and filling it from the bottle of malbec.

“Apparently, he talked to her like she was talking back. Like a married couple. Pervy little shit.”

She takes a sip from the wine glass.

“Wow, you do have bad taste!”

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series The beginnings of a tag list: (lmk if you want to join) @dilfjohhny

[enigmatist17]

Part 1

Part 2

I also want to thank @mabrego0714 for their post of clone commanders they drew! It's been super helpful for me to keep track, as I am horrendous with lists of people I am still kind of unfamiliar with, and said post you can find here <3

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7567 felt warm when he started to wake up, and for a moment he revels in it. It's not often the Kaminoans let the cadets sleep in, and 7567 is going to enjoy his batchmates for as long as he was allowed.

Grey eyes, bodies still, and voices forever silenced.

A scream gets stuck in his throat as 7567 pushes himself away from the warmth, and nearly hits the ground if someone hadn't grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Breathe, nice and slow." 7567 was carefully lowered to the floor, and he stayed on his hands and knees as he struggled to breathe. The sorrow felt strong enough to overwhelm him, and he barely registered someone kneeling beside him and placing their hand on the back of his neck. "Keep going."

So 7567 does as he's told, breathing in and out until his heart has stopped racing, and his eyes don't threaten to burn with tears. Sitting back on his shins, the cadet watches as the trooper that had been holding him sits across, pose ramrod straight as he regards the smaller boy in front of him. 7567 is surprised to see his armor is mostly white, save for some red circles that have a line that goes through the middle, and his curiosity must have shown as the trooper makes a noise that one could consider a chuckle.

"I am Commander Neyo." It doesn't really answer his question, but 7567 remembers hearing the others speak of him in a hushed tone.

"CT-7567." Neyo continues to stare at him, and just when the cadet decides to ask him something, the commander offers his hand.

"Come, the others are waiting." His voice is almost monotone as he helps 7567 to his feet, his touch as he holds the cadet's hand however gentle as a whisper. Neyo leads 7567 out of the barracks he had been taken to, and it must be a night shift as the ship is not as lively as 7567 had seen when he had first arrived. Several troopers wave as the duo passes by, and it's not long before they enter a lift, emerging outside the rather empty cafeteria, save for a group of men in one corner.

"There they are!" Bly waves with a grin as the two enter the large room, and 7567 smiles at seeing the commander. "Come on, Fox cooked up something for you!"

"He did?" The younger boy grinned as said Guard commander poked his head out from the kitchen, and waved.

"Sit, I'll be out in a moment." Neyo let go of 7567's hand and motions him to run ahead, and the cadet sees there is a spot on one side waiting for him. Wolffe is by his side, placing his arm around 7567's shoulder as a new commander he hadn't met before takes a seat across from the cadet. His orange and black armor was designed differently from everyone else's, and it clicks that he must be in charge of some of the few aquatic troopers that were very hard to be a part of if you hadn't been designated from the start.

"Name's Monnk, nice to meet you kih'vod." The man is all smiles, and 7567 can't help but smile at the outpouring of kindness he can feel from his ori'vod that could probably be felt all the way back to the Jedi Temple. "Nice to see a new blonde besides Ponds."

"Told you being a blonde was nice." Ponds hummed, as he and Cody were in the middle of an arm wrestling match at the end of the large table.

"Insufferable." Fox tsked as he finally exited the kitchen, two large trays full of food that smelled amazing balanced perfectly on his hands. "Here we are."

"Fox, vod, you are the best of us here." Gree reached for whatever was closest after Fox set both trays down, only to have his hand smacked away.

"Kih'vod gets the first crack." 7567 looks up disbelievingly, having never thought food could look so colorful.

"This is food?" Slowly, he reaches forward for a small cubed block, examining it for a moment before popping it into his mouth.

He's never tasted meat that actually tastes like meat oh kriff!

"Trust me, kid, food can have a taste to it." Fox practically beamed, and one could see his wrinkles disappear as he proudly watches the newly adopted cadet begins to reach out and taste everything he can get his hands on. Sweet, sour, savory, 7567 enjoys every bite of the wonderful food in front of him, registering Fox sitting on his other side as the others take some of it for themselves.

It wasn't often they all got together, and less so for Fox being able to cook for them.

A very satisfied 7567 leans against Wolffe once he's tried everything, and watches the commanders talk and laugh among themselves. The Guard commander seems to be taking it all in himself, and the cadet can see the way he's constantly being touched on the shoulder, and arm, the occasional hand running through his hair, and he wonders if Fox was lonely all the way on Coruscant. He might be, being so far away from the war they were literally born and bred for, and it occurs that maybe the glamor of his post wasn't as bright as it might be to those who were so far from the city planet. Fox glances over when he realizes he's being stared at and reaches over to gently ruffle 7567's short hair.

"I've read about you," The cadet started, and Fox does not feel his heart skip a beat. "We weren't supposed to, but the instructors never kept an eye on their communicators. I...one of my batchmates was really good with slicing, and we would read some of your reports when they came in."

"That has to be the cutest shit I've ever heard." Bly crooned, eyeing Fox with a grin that reminded Cody of some of his newest recruits.

"It reminds me of us, wanting to know more of the War the longnecks refused to speak of," Neyo commented, giving Monnk a murderous look when he tried to steal a lone tuber from his plate.

"What do you think will happen next?" 7567 asked, frowning at the thought of going back to everything like nothing had changed. "Will they still teach us?"

"Most likely not." Wolffe shook his head, pulling his arm away so that Fox could get a chance to let the kih'vod use him as a support to lean against.

He does not miss the way Fox looks delighted for the first time in eons.

"I've heard the Jetti are going to talk it over." Bly drawled, having taken to lying on top of the table adjacent to where most of the commanders had been. "For now, those of us here are just watching Kamino for them."

"Palpa-kriff is already bitching." Fox grumbled, downing some of his caf. "He thinks that this is grounds for treason."

"What?!" The jovial mood is gone in an instant, and Fox's wrinkles have all come back tenfold. "Treason? To take our own home for ourselves?!"

"Kriff him!" Bly looks outraged as he sits up, crossing his arms. "Like he cares."

Fox says nothing, focusing more on 7567 moving to sit on his lap and give him an attempt of a hug. His heart skips more than one beat this time.

"I've never liked him." Neyo surprisingly speaks up, his face impassive as usual as he sips his water. "Reminds me of an Aurean vulture waiting to kill its prey."

"He does!" Gree nodded, and runs a hand over his face. "I've only seen him once, I felt like I was about to be killed in a firing squad until we left."

"Same here, he said my accent was...unbecoming of a clone." Bly scowled at no one in particular.

"Every day I work with him..." Fox says nothing else, and 7567 doesn't miss the look the commanders share when the Guard member looks away to snatch Wolffe's remaining caf. "I'm not supposed to be here, Thire offered to keep hold for me."

"I'm glad you're here." The cadet murmurs, and Fox gives him a gentle pat on the back.

"Me too."

Palpatine isn't spoken of the rest of the night, as the group of commanders speaks of everything and anything else. 7567 is awake for most of it, chiming in when he can, and listening in awe when the talk inevitably drifts towards war stories and shenanigans of their squads. He laughs when Cody speaks of his Jetti being pranked by some newcomers, and is in hysterics when Monnk speaks of the time he out-swam his Jetti and almost ended up being eaten by some sea creature as a result. His laughter makes the older clones share looks throughout the night, and they don't even need to speak about how they've already bonded with their youngling, even if not a single one of them knew how to really go about it all.

Oh well, they'll figure it out.

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February Day 23: Crave

Fandom: SWTOR

Time: 28/29 ATC (near future)

Pairing:  Theron Shan/Smuggler; Aric Jorgan/Trooper (Past)

CW:  references to deceased partner; infertility; pregnancy

Word Count: ~700

~~

A/N:  Love, like grief, never fully leaves.  Aric is doing ok.

~~

“You’re either doing carb loading wrong or the scuttlebutt around Odessen is true.”

Theron’s back straightened at the words.  “Gossip is gossip, Aric.”  He kept his eyes looking straight ahead as he waited at the Odessen cantina bar for the last dish of the night – a special order – to emerge from the kitchen.

“Yeah, but you’re here at 0300 waiting on an order of chicken and waffles with a really sappy expression on your face.”  

The short-hand note had been left on the bar by the bartender; Aric hadn’t acquired psychic powers recently.

Deflection.  “What are you doing up at 0300?”  

“You know why.  You’re the one put me on that op to the Gree with their wacky time.”  Aric Jorgan plopped himself down on a barstool.  “Shuttle air is dry as Tatooine.  Just water. I know it’s past last call,” he reassured the bartender and his utterly pained expression.

That was at least 50% Theron’s fault.  And 50% Eva’s fault…

“Also, I noticed Eva’s shooting stance changed at the range before I left.”  A few beats.  “Congratulations.”

Theron couldn’t keep the smile away entirely, but it was small and mild.  “Thanks.”  

He didn’t want to be obnoxious about it… especially with Aric.  The tension didn’t leave him entirely.  

Aric studied the man before him.  “You know, Damasa’s been dead for ten years now.  And we never…the kid thing never worked out.  So you don’t have to…”  Aric made a vague gesture.

Now Theron did wonder if the Cathar was psychic or, as a sniper could be, excessively perceptive.  “Don’t want to rub it in your face.  I do remember…”  And then Theron finally looked at Aric.  

He didn’t find the sadness he thought would be thee, nor the wishes that didn’t come true.  Maybe Balkar had read that situation wrong and conveyed it even more off-target to Theron.

Aric’s water arrived. Calmly, he shotgunned half of it before clearing things up.  “You seem to forget that prior to the Pub elevating Damasa to sainthood, they made our lives hell due to our ‘irregular’ marriage.”  

Now Theron shifted his weight slightly.  “No, I didn’t forget that.”

Interspecies children weren’t always looked upon kindly in the Republic, even if they were safer there than in the Empire.  

Aric flicked an ear.  “Even though the med techs said it was impossible, we… had the dumb idea that that it would at least make a hell of a journal article for Elara.” He wore a strange smirk as looked at the water glass in his hand. “It was always ‘chemical.’  Never lasted more than a few weeks.  And the story was the same with human donors.”  Aric finally looked over at Theron.  “But beyond that?  I know that if Damasa had lived, it wouldn’t have been the same… both what the last battle did to her and what the job did to her… and us.”  

“You don’t know—”  Theron objected to the idea that they’d been ill-fated, that it wouldn’t have –

“No, I don’t,” Aric cut him off.  “But you do.”

A vivid, sharp memory cut into Theron.  Eva’s first Eternal Fleet Remembrance, now six years ago.  

Theron reeled internally, trying to think of anything he could say or extract himself out of this. “It…we’ll be a medical journal article, too, if...”

Because it never had happened before.

Aric paused for a few moments, then he nodded his head.  He sipped his water.  “Should have figured.  She was a popsicle for five years.  That…isn’t helpful.”  

Aric finished his water then set down his glass with an audible ‘clunk.’  “All the same.  Don’t bother to keep up any illusions for me, or anyone.”  Aric gave Theron a stern look.  “It’s happy.  After the fighting and rearranging of the galaxy – it’s scary – but it’s really happy.”

Theron let out a breath, sort of a half laugh.  “One of the few things worth being up at 0300 for.”

“Even if it all goes wrong.” Now Aric had that sad expression that Theron had expected, but at the same time… there was some joy there, something that couldn’t be stolen from him, even if the person he was thinking about was long gone.  

“Chicken and waffles, order up!”

It never went wrong.  There were several medical journal articles.  Aric joined the line behind Corso and HK-55 for childminder/shooting instructor.

~~

@fluffyfebruary @ayresis @starlightcleric @ermingarden @bluephoenix1347

[the-fiction-witch]

The Strawberry Glade P1-5

Media TMR AU

Character Newt 

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Sweet AF

Concept Strawberry Glade Series

I yawned, stretched and pushed myself out of the little cosy bed onto the wooden floor I rubbed my eyes went over to the wardrobe grabbed myself a little blue dress did up all my little buttons and tieing my ribbon around my waist. I checked myself in the mirror doing a little spin smiling sweetly. I hurried down my little stairs and out my front door seeing the large one-story house long abandoned by the big people. I had always been her, my mother found this house when I was small, well smaller. the large doll house in the centre of the perfect little town was our home, Even if it is just me now. I hurried down the little stairs I hurried across the little plastic streets past cotton trees and little metal people, and over the train tracks. I walked across the wooden table to the window unlocking it and giving it a push

"Ughhh! gets heavier every day" I complain pushing it with all of my weight until it was open enough for me to slip out onto the wooden windowsill still inside the conservatory or greenhouse as I liked to say.

I held out my arms to keep my balance as I walked down the window sill stretching my leg out and stepping onto the firm mud of the plant pot giving the little plant a tap and checking it was okay for water given how dry the mud was stepping around the rim of the pot and stepping over to the next slightly lower plant pot checking on that one too as I went, and so on and so on checking everything was alright and the food all growing as it should be until I reached what I wanted for breakfast this morning the sweet tall strawberry leaves ducking under them discovering the sweet treasure trove of fresh red strawberries ripe for the picking I picked two keeping them under my arms as I began to head back up the pots and back inside the window. I set my strawberries down by the tracks and hurried back onto the window sill spotting the cord giving it a hard pull having to back up as I did in order to have enough force to pull it, pulling open the little mechanism at the top of the greenhouse that opened the window so the plants could all get some nice moisture as it was clearly going to rain tonight.

Once it was open I dusted off my hands and hurried inside shutting the window behind me and picking up my strawberries and heading back into town.

I finished off with the last of my chores in the bakery, laundromat, and bank. I took my basket sitting it on my hip as I pushed open the door smiling as I saw the little town, the sun outside setting and thus all the little street lights lit up along the little pathways between all the little plastic trees. I hurried through past all the little lights until I reached my house shutting the door and sitting my basket in the kitchen and hurrying upstairs changed into my little nightie and sat in bed looking out the hollow window to see across the vast town seeing all the sweet little lights along the streets, the few lights in the house and shop windows.

I woke up to the sweet sunlight, having a stretch and hopped out of bed grabbing my little green dress and tieing up my hair into my usual ribbons and hurrying down the stairs as my little grandfather clock told me that I was already running late today. I went through the town and over the train tracks hurrying to the window. I pushed open the window and grabbed the cord for the window shutting it up as the greenhouse was already all steamy. I wandered down the window sill going from plant pot to plant pot as usual arriving at the strawberries and grabbing myself fresh strawberries.

I froze up.

as I heard a small squeak.

I glanced over to the side of the greenhouse, the large tables covered in leaves and ivy, and the brown stone floor and there on the stone beside the table leg sat a brown mouse.

It wiggled its nose.

staring at me.

It took its little mouse paws and rubbed its face before sniffling.

and it bolted across the greenhouse to the plant pot

I dropped my berries and ran as fast as I could up the plant pots to the windowsill with the mouse bolting up the pots after me I jumped inside and pulled the window tight the mouse immediately trying to bite at the glass.

I stood physically shaking holding a little non-functioning umbrella from the pot in the post office, and stood on the other side of the tracks watching the mouse still at the window biting, clawing trying to get at me. I was beyond scared that the mouse was twice my size of me with the strength to rip me into the smallest of bits. I had no fight against a mouse and I think it smelt my fear.

I stood guarding for what felt like hours my fear all but consuming me thinking of the possibilities of how the mouse could get in and what it would do to me.

Suddenly the mouse stopped, perking up its ears and standing on its back legs

I held my umbrella in my shaking hand trying to make sense of what it was doing

and an orange lizard scattered down the outside of the windowsill down to the mouse

I was fearful for the foolish lizard as I imagined the mouse would have torn it to shreds but no.

The Mouse seemed... happy to see the little lizard. greeting it with a cuddle and a nose rub.

I was very puzzled especially given the lizard seemed to stand on its back legs? hu I didn't know they could do that?

the lizard spotted me through the glass seeming to not just look at me but stare at me.

Until the lizard climbed onto the mouse and the two scampered off.

I found it hard to sleep my constant fear that the mouse would come back and it would someway find its way inside the house. but I had to get food so I had no choice.

I held my little umbrella in my arms as I slowly pushed open the window looking at every inch of the dusty, steamy, ivy-covered greenhouse.

I froze holding my breath making sure there were no sounds but the dripping of the roof in the left corner.

it was clear.

so I tenderly and slowly moved down the window sill stepping on the first plant pot I stopped and listened to everything making sure nothing was around.

I hurried down the pots, and I began picking some food making sure to fill my bag as I didn't want to have to come out more often.

and it was then I heard the sound.

I heard a little clack to my side, and I froze up gasping hard.

I glanced to the side and saw that orange lizard sat on the plant pot looking at me.

for a moment there was a stalemate between us

but the moment it went to move so I screamed and whacked it hard with the umbrella

"Oww!" it complained

"Ahhhhhhhhh! talking lizard!" I screamed hitting the lizard as hard as I could off the plant pot sending its little orange body across the greenhouse floor, and for a moment it didn't move but it sat up "aAHHHH IT LIVES!" I yelled jumping off the plant pot and across the tiled greenhouse floor to hit it again

"Ahghh no no no stop please!" it begged

"die talking lizard monster!"

"No! I'm a person! I'm a person!" it said pulling back a wooden crafted helmet revealing the skin of a person

I was in such shock I dropped my umbrella

"I Uhh I'm sorry for scaring you" he says

"sorry I-"

"It's okay, I didn't mean to frighten you. I didn't know anyone lived here and after I saw you yesterday... I couldn't stay away"

"What are you?" I asked "some kind of lizard boy?" I asked poking him expecting him to be slimy and gooey but he was.. normal, utterly normal.

"No, I'm a person. same as you" he said getting to his feet "This is just camouflage so the birds and the rats don't try and eat me" he explained slipping the helmet off completely revealing a mess of blonde hair he wiped his arm revealing how the orange simply came off he had little orange pants and a shirt as well as a little bag and knife over his shoulder

"I... I didn't know others existed"

"You didn't?"

"No,"

"have you... ever left this place?"

"No, never needed to" I shrug

"Ohh, Well I'm newt" He smiled offering his hand

"Newt?" I asked

"don't ask."

"That why?" I asked looking to his outfit

"part of it yes."

"Alright, y/n" I said giving his hand a shake

"y/n." he smiled moving my hand closer and giving it a sweet kiss but he perked up a little looking to the side and I saw the mouse that attacked yesterday so I grabbed my umbrella to protect myself "Alright alright I'm coming" he sighed going over and giving the mouse a cuddle "Hello girl, come on then we need to get back before dark" He smiled climbing up onto the mouse

"You... you know this mouse?"

"Course, this is millie. Say Hello girl" He cooed but the mouse gave me a evil look "she's a little shy, We need to be getting back but if you like we can stop by tomorrow?"

"Uhh yeah that would be nice" I nodded

"Good I'll see you tomorrow then" he smiled before holding the mouses fur and the two scampered off out of the greenhouse.

[whump-town]

Finger Painting 

this is my pre-season one haley and hotch fic. they're cute I think. it's v sweet (okay not entirely). hotch is painting haley a house <3

word count: 5,000

---------------------------

“I don’t really care what color it is but I’ve just never seen a green–”

“Sage green.”

“Sage green,” Hotch repeats, raising his hands up to show Haley he means nothing by the slip-up. Yesterday she’d cried after showing him the green she’d chosen to paint the house and he’d said, simply, huh, that’s a funny color. She’d cried for what felt like hours and Hotch had no idea what was the right or wrong thing to say. It seemed every time he opened his mouth, no matter what he said, she’d begin to cry. Hotch had no idea why she was showing him the paint strip sample before but he should have known better and he's been paying for it since. 

Today he thinks rage has replaced tears, he’s not sure he prefers either option. Hotch isn’t sure, either, that  you can have pregnancy hormones before the pregnancy but trying to get pregnant had seemed to fill Haley with a hormonal range he didn’t think he’d encounter yet. And she’d definitely hit him if he suggested taking a pregnancy test right now so he bites his tongue for now. “If you want a gree– sage green house, I’ll paint you a sage green house.”

Haley narrows her eyes at him, arms crossed tight on her chest. Hotch had never considered himself someone easily frightened but he’d never been so afraid of someone with blonde pigtails. He’s over a half a foot taller than her and she seems rather harmless in her sundress but looks can be so, so deceiving. Physically he could take her, toss her over his shoulder or pin her, but as Aaron, the man she lawfully married despite disapproval from her family, he’d pay severely. 

Hotch approaches Haley slowly, smiling when she lets him get close enough to hug. He tests the waters with a kiss to her cheek and when she doesn’t turn away Hotch wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in against him. “I love you,” he reminds her with a squeeze, glancing down at her from the corner of his eye. “If you want a sage green house then so do I.” It takes Haley a moment, she gives a sniffle and finally her arms slide across his back. Hotch smiles when Haley leans her head against his shoulder.  “And, you know, green is my favorite color. You could have picked grass green and I’d be happy.” 

Haley huffs but he can hear that it’s just a stifled laugh. She looks up at him, eyes red and teary, “green isn’t your favorite color.”

“You’re right,” Hotch agrees with a small sigh, he’s aiming for dramatic but he’s the town’s worst pirate #3 in history for a reason. Haley laughs anyways, he’s an accidently funny man. An acquired taste. “I would’ve preferred pink but if you want sage green, I’ll paint the whole house sage green. The cabinets. The door. Do you want green windows? They got this plastic film you can stick to the glass–” Hotch looks down, cutting himself off as Haley starts to laugh. He smiles hard, lips moving to their own accord, tugged up tight. He can’t speak around it, can hardly maintain the point he’d been making at the sound of her muffled laughter. “A whole house,” he gets out, shrugging. “Whatever you want.”

She wants a sage green house, so Hotch does as he’s told. He disappears to the backyard, fumbling and crashing around for three hours, and gets exceptionally little done. Haley watches him from the kitchen, rubbing a dish towel over dry dishes so she has an excuse to keep an eye on him. She ignores the avalanche that comes down in the garage, she could hear him shouting and kicking in frustration at the mess – alive and moving. He tripped over the paint tray on the porch and got paint everywhere, so she brought him something to clean it up and some sweet tea. 

Haley has found real dishes to wash when a streak of silver falls from the sky and something large slams into the ground with a metallic clatter. 

Hotch lays on the ground, eyes pinched tight as his body cramps. His lungs feel like bruised weights inside his chest, every muscle in his body tight as he fails to convince his body to bring air into itself. He doesn’t hear Haley come running out of the house – for a moment, Hotch is convinced he’s managed to kill himself. The sun throws a dark shadow over Haley’s face when she leans over him, peaking through her hair. She looks like she’s glowing. 

Oh fuck, he’s killed himself on a ladder. 

“Aaron?” Haley. 

That makes so much more sense. 

Hotch pushes himself upright with one hand, pulling the other to his chest, pressing his other palm into the weight pressing up under the side of his ribs. “I’ll–” Hotch gasps at his words, still fighting air into his body, “I’ll have to– to get you a new – more paint.” 

The tray lays on it’s side in a pile of green goopy paint. Haley had followed his green footsteps through the yard and she can see on the ladder where his wet shoe had slipped on the metal rung of the ladder.

Haley gets Hotch up into a lawn chair – which surprises him, as she supports a great deal more of his weight than he thought she could. Moving makes his head throb and he doesn’t realize how wrong time is moving until Haley presses cold tea into his hand and an icepack up against his side. 

Haley knows the name of a company to call to do the painting, she knows her father would know plenty more and maybe cheaper options. But Hotch is just stubborn, simply put. And also a trouble magnet. Haley had seen Hotch masterfully work through an unexpected pinch with astonishing flexibility and ease. Trouble just seems to hunt Hotch down,  little accidents here and there. Socks on the hardwood floor. Bruises on his shins. Scratches on his hands. He seemed to never know where they came from and Haley believes him. She’d watched him once just walk right into the counter. A counter Haley felt she could navigate in the dark. Blind she would that counter was there. And yet Hotch run his hip right into it’s corner. 

Hotch goes back to painting the next day, walking a little hunched but painting. He paints for four hours until they start phoning. It’s Derek, so Haley feels a little more inclined to relay his messages. He’s nice and she tells him that Aaron is painting the house right now but he’ll be in when he can, he’ll need a shower. Derek promises to come help paint when they get back, apologizing for nabbing her husband once again on such short notice. 

Hotch cannot shower away all the paint he’s managed to get on himself in the last two days. Morgan picks on Hotch for the sage green dried into his nail beds, in the little creases on the inside of his wrists, and stuck in his hair. He’s measures cleaner than he had been when Haley went to get him. Hotch had managed to smear it across his nose, likely wiping at sweat with his hand. His hands also covered in paint – as if he’d abandoned using a brush at all and thought he’d turn his task into a finger painting project. 

Haley hears nothing from anyone on Wednesday and she starts to get scared. Aaron phones everyday, all the time. Thursday, Haley is out in the front yard when Derek Morgan’s car turns onto the road. The only thing that stops her legs from giving out beneath her is Aaron in the front seat. The sun hits the windshield just right, lighting up the inside of the car so that Haley can see that he’s fallen asleep. He’s alive. 

Haley drops the things in her hand, forgotten before they even hit the ground, as she jogs across the yard. She runs over the little flowers spread through the grass, not worried about where her barefeet might land amongst the bees pollinating. 

“Is he okay?” Haley watches Derek crouch down by the side of the car and wake Hotch up, twisting her fingers against one another as Derek goes largely unheard. She breathes for the first time when Hotch opens his eyes, it takes him a moment. Glassy eyes focus on Derek as he speaks but he says her name and Hotch looks up at Haley with a loopy smile. 

Once he’s standing, Haley can see the damage done a little better. Derek props him up on crutches, messing with his clothes so his sweatshirt isn’t bunched up and the bottom of his sweatpants are back down at his ankles. 

“Sorry,” Derek says, once his mission is complete. He gives Hotch’s back a pat and smiles when Hotch takes his cue – a slow, experimental step forward. Haley steps up to Hotch’s side, closer as he tries to walk. Derek leaves them, shutting the passenger door and going back around the side of the car. “Going to the hardware stores really wiped him out but we couldn’t find that green you wanted in the first one. So we had to go to two.” 

The rage Haley had felt for all the missed calls, no up-dates from anyone, abaits just a little. One intense emotion washed out by the confrontation of a newer, harder one. Tears spring to Haley’s eyes as Hotch glances over at her. “You went to get me more paint?” she asks Hotch, she wants to take his hand, to hold him or kiss him or maybe shake him really hard. 

Hotch’s left ankle is wrapped in a brace boot, grey from his toes to just below his knee. When he smiles at her the scab on his lip splits, “gotta paint your house.”

Haley shakes her head.

Morgan clears his throat and Haley sniffles, pulling her hands away from Hotch and wiping at her eyes. “Derek,” she says, dabbing at the bottoms of her eyes. “You can put those down anywhere.” Haley waves to the porch, motions for him follow her.

Morgan shurgs, “nah if you just point me in the direction, I can just get to painting.” 

Haley glances at Hotch and then back to Morgan. “No,” she says, “no, no, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Morgan repositions the weight of the paint cans in his hands with a shrug of his shoulders, flexing his fingers around the handles. He comes up beside Hotch, slipping past them both as he heads up the stairs. “Straight back, Hotch?”

It’s a nice warm day so Haley leaves Hotch out in the yard with Morgan. He’s alright up on the ladder by the time Haley gets Hotch to back yard. Hotch had left most of the paint things together, finding the ladder wasn’t that hard – it’d been abandoned against the side of the house. 

“You need some time in the sun,” Haley says. “Natural medicine and you’re starting to get startingly pale again.” Haley would have Aaron however he came, no matter what happened to him. But… at a certain point every few months, he stops going outside as much. The cold seeps in everywhere and it’s just comfortable tucked up by the fire in the living room, reading. Haley loves finding him sleeping out on the couch – it both annoys her within the depth of her soul to see him so at peace but also, it’s nice to find him sleeping, resting. That being said, without the sun, his skin begins to pale an alarming sheet white. She’d watch him undress and be shocked to silence watching his black dress pants peel back and reveal the translucent white flesh underneath. That… she would fix. 

Hotch pouts, stumbling a little in the grass, “but I’m not sick.” 

Haley leaves Hotch with two iced teas, one for Morgan, and he naps out on a lawn chair. She comes out frequently to check on them, bringing Morgan snacks as she does. He eats more fruit and sandwiches than he has in a long time. Morgan takes his snacks down in the shade, sharing slices of apple or orange as Hotch cracks his eyes open to find the source of noise. Hotch doesn’t stir much but Morgan uses his vague awareness to talk. Hotch is easy to talk to like this. His sore leg is propped up on a stool and pillow, a blanket pulled to the top of his chin. The words he says are mumbled and nonsense but Morgan doesn’t mind the company. 

Derek reaches over and taps Hotch’s knee, waiting for Hotch to start blinking himself away and make that sleep frown off to the side until he’s present enough to move his head and find Derek. “Another orange,” Derek tells him, putting half of a slice in the palm of the hand Hotch has left out of the blanket, resting on his lap. Derek hadn’t seen Hotch eat anything while they were in Wisconsin and he and Haley had the same goal of pressing the snacks on him. 

Hotch focuses on Morgan for a long second, blinking once slowly as he processes what’s been said. Orange. He likes oranges better than apples. The first piece Derek handed him was just a whole slice – a top corner of the apple Derek had cut the skin mostly off of. Hotch had held that slice in his hand for nearly an hour, taken nearly three bites of it. Stealthy, Haley had taken the hot, mushy apple from Hotch’s hand – he hadn’t realized he didn’t finish it yet. After that Derek has controlled the size of what he hands to Hotch a little more. Pieces only the size of one bite. 

After this orange, Hotch has two-fourths of an apple waiting for him. 

“What time is it?” Derek is a little surprised by the coherence of Hotch’s suddenly found voice. He’s been getting grunts for hours as yes and no but Haley had gotten the softest whispers – clearly, there was a very unfair hierarchy happening. 

Derek glances down at his watch, “five-thirty.”

Hotch grunts.

Every twenty minutes Haley comes out to tuck ice or a heating pad against Hotch’s back, and Morgan excuses himself so she can have privacy to worry over Hotch freely. It’s a good schedule, plenty of breaks for all involved. Morgan feeds Hotch two or three pieces of whatever snack Haley brought him and Haley comes out and makes him drink something, a few sips. 

At six, Haley calls them in for dinner. Hotch falls asleep again at the table but he fights a hard fight for five minutes. Haley and Derek whisper and joke, careful not to startle the sleeping bomb starting to drool on the hand propping his head up. 

Morgan stays to help Hotch up the stairs and sees himself out, leaving them to do as they need. 

Showering is first. Haley thinks her best bet is keeping Hotch standing, it’s hard to fall asleep standing. He does it, though. 

Semi-delirious on his night-meds, Hotch whispers as coherent a version of the accident as he can remember. Which isn’t much. It happened quickly, nothing that predictable. He and Derek had just come up a staircase when Hotch took a round to the chest, tripping, he’d stumbled down the stairs. After that, he knows only what Gideon told him – that Derek had carried him out the house over his shoulder to medical attention. He woke up in the hospital. 

Haley explores the bruise across his chest carefully with just the tips of her fingers. Touching the hot, swollen purple skin. “I don’t like it when you get hurt.”  

“I don’t like it either”

Haley lays her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes so that she doesn’t speak. Refraining from asking him something she knows he can’t do. 

He could be killed doing this job. 

Haley didn’t just want a child. She would raise a child. She would love a child. Haley wanted partnership, raising a child with him. A teenager with Hotch’s awkward height. A baby that babbles mama at him regardless of his repetition of dada. A child that thinks he hung the moon in the sky, that thinks there’s nothing she and Aaron can’t do. And they could not have any of that if his job killed him. It could happen at any moment and she’s certain she wouldn't find out immediately. 

Haley can’t stand the thought that Hotch might take his last breath in a state he didn’t think to tell her the name of in one of his rushes out the front door. He could leave this world in a city she’d never heard of and Haley wouldn’t know for hours after. 

She couldn’t imagine the idea of it. Couldn’t part from the horror of it. 

Hotch had become an extension of her. He walked around with her whole life in his head, tucked into his memories and actions. He was an entire part of her and Haley could not imagine the possibility of his death being so far from her, so separate from her own. 

Hotch takes a week to recover – Gideon doesn’t call once but Derek shows up early from the office to meet Hotch wherever he’s found himself trying or failing to paint. Adjusting to the world through the strain of a concussion and on crutches, Hotch works slow and Derek is covering the most ground. Hotch masters balancing on one crush and using the paint roller, working in short intervals – he’s doing his best. 

Despite hours of work, Hotch got only the side of the house done. That’s half of a house, but none of Haley’s sage green managed to come around to the front. Anyone seeing the house would only see the white paint. 

–––––––––––––––

Haley has never been to Boston Massachusetts. She knows where it is on the map, every state Aaron has ever marched off to – she knows where it is, how to get there. When this had all first started, Dave would buy her a ticket anytime Aaron got hurt. No matter how bad, if Dave knew she could be on a plane to there before they would be released from the hospital, Haley would have the plane ticket out there. Aaron didn’t get smarter about running into danger but Gideon got better at knowing when and how Aaron would do it. 

Haley has never been to Massachusetts. 

The year they moved from Seattle to Washington D.C., Haley and Hotch spent Christmas as Dave’s. Gideon showed late with a pie and the four of them made nice small talk. Haley didn’t mind Gideon, he was sweet, but David Rossi… no, that one she didn’t trust. Because she liked him, she didn’t trust him. But by the end of the night Hotch, exhausted from moving their entire lives across the country on such short notice, fell asleep early. Sleeping or not, Hotch provided a comfortable barrier between her and them. By the end of the night she was laughing along with them, agreeing that Hotch’s doorknob confessions always had a way of being catastrophic. 

Haley gasps with Hotch pulls her around to kiss her goodbye. It’s hard, quick. 

“Going to Boston!” he says, stumbling over the strap of his go-bag as he walks. “You should–” he turns back around before he runs into the door. “I love you,” Hotch stops, looks around himself to make sure his keys are in his hands and his wallet and badge in his pockets. “Okay,” he nods at her, smiling. “I love you! If you have any tests left, you just check. If you don’t have anymore call me and I’ll bring some home!” 

Just like that. 

The front door shut behind him. 

Hotch boards last on the jet, hobbling a little awkwardly still with the rounded bottom of the boot he hasn’t yet managed to convince his doctors he doesn’t need anymore. It’s slowing him down. He’s got things to do. 

Bombs are going off. People are dying. Hotch calls Haley every few hours and she entertains them with local news. She knows they’re all listening in so she reads the article about the little league baseball team winning their game. Gideon’s voice comes in every one in a while to ask about something specific and she reads Hotch and Reid a few of the crossword prompts. 

Haley’s good morning call doesn’t come and then there’s nothing at lunch either. 

Haley promised Aaron to stay away from reports on news about cases. It would be the worse way to find out something has happened. Derek calls at three, as Haley’s patience has been thoroughly plucked. She’s sitting on the couch when he calls, the remote in her hand. 

Two identical critical patients. 

Haley’s never been to Boston before but it’s cold, freezing like she knew it’d be. 

“Gideon couldn’t tell,” Derek speaks softly, tears drying on his face. “He– He–” Derke doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He knows what he should be saying but the words just aren’t coming. He just can't say them. He can’t say them. 

“I’ll be able to tell.”

She would never mistake him. She’d know by the hitch in his breaths at night, the way his hands hold her face. She’d know him if he couldn’t make a sound at all, just by the wind that carries him in. The hair that’s fallen from his head. The shape of his back. By a patch of skin. 

All she needs is his hand. The left is mess, wrapped tight and thick with white gauze. His fingers stained with iodine and swollen. Haley isn’t sure until she holds his hand, turning herself slightly and pushing his stiff fingers back from his palm. She runs her finger up his palm, the same lines she’d traced at fifteen with a giggle and a crush. She finds the M palm line, the depth she’s always imagine carved into the bark of a tree to be preserved for a lifetime. 

Picking up his broken hand to hold it in her own, she needs to make sure her eyes weren’t betraying her. But it's her sage green on his nails, her sage green still in his hair, and dried to his skin. Through broken bones and burns, but here was her sage green. She’d never loved that silly color so much. 

Haley laughs a little and Derek steps closer to the bed, concerned by the tears pouring down Haley’s face.

“What?” he asks.

“He’s still covered in paint.”

–––––––––––––––

[zoeykallus]

Fives – Soldier Boy 15 – The Beginning Of An Empire

Warnings: Angst/ Dark / Mention Of Death

___________

Fives watches the message Yoda left him. It's bad news and Fives has a hard time dealing with it. He needs you now, more than ever.

____________

What Happened Before:

Soldier Boy

Part 2 - Caught In The Act

Part 3 - Tender Affection

Part 4 - Worries And Secrets

Part 5 - Welcome Back, Soldier Boy

Part 6 - I Should Have Known

Part 7 - Doing Something Stupid

Part 8 - Hot Tub

Part 9 - Seize The Night

Part 10 - We Need A Medic

Part 11 - Live To Fight Another Day

Part 12 - What Lies Ahead

Part 13 - An Unexpected Friend

Part 14 - Important News

Part 15 - The Beginning Of An Empire

While Fives was watching the message from Yoda, you made some snacks for both of you in the kitchen. You wanted to give Fives a little space, you knew he was a little uncomfortable when you saw how nervous and excited he was and a message from Yoda himself was one of the things that made him very nervous.

You were more or less sure that everything was okay, there was no reason to worry, after all Yoda was on Five's side. But when you turned around and saw Fives standing silently in the kitchen doorway, you lost your smile. The news he had received was not good at all. He was pale his expression blank and horrified at the same time.

"I was right," he said, and he could barely get the words past his lips.

You set the plate of snacks aside and asked carefully, "About what, exactly, darling?"

He blinked and a tear ran down his face.

"The chips, they've been activated."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"That fast? We barely got here. What exactly does that mean?" you asked in a low voice.

Fives swallowed and sat down on a stool in the kitchen.

"The Jedi have been proclaimed traitors and enemies of the Republic, my brothers-"

He broke off, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger before continuing, "My brothers executed the Jedi, their generals and commanders, killed, no questions asked."

Your heart beat to your throat, this sounded surreal, so unbelievable, it couldn't possibly be true, but if Master Yoda said it, it had to be true. You stepped up to him, caressed his cheek and gently hugged him to you. Fives put his arms around you as if he had to hold on to you to keep from falling off the stool.

"I knew something bad was going to happen, but I had no idea how bad," he said in a broken voice.

"Where is Master Yoda now? How is he?"

Fives took a deep breath before answering, "Chewbacca and a few of his friends helped him escape from Kashyyyk. He looked tired, sad, but he's alive. He said we should stay hidden, we should not make contact, with anyone, it's too dangerous."

You thought of your uncle and fervently hoped he was okay, but Fives snapped you out of your thoughts again.

"When I asked Master Yoda how he could be so sure that my brothers had really carried out that order he said that they had tried to kill him too, he had to kill Gree in self-defense and he felt in the Force as the Jedi died, he said it was like a painful howl in the Force and then it went very quiet"

That was an absolutely horrible image. You thought of Master Skywalker, of Ahsoka, Master Kenobi and wondered if it could really be.

"Master Skywalker must have escaped, I can't imagine he would be so easy to kill."

Fives shrugged helplessly.

"I don't know, I hope he made it somehow."

You sighed and kissed Five's head, on which his hair slowly began to grow back. You knew he would blame himself.

"You did what you could, they were warned, Skywalker knew about it, Shaak Ti knew about it, Yoda knew about it. Single-handedly you couldn't do more than warn them and that's what you did, even putting yourself in danger in the process"

Fives raised his head, looked at you and smiled sadly.

"I know, it still feels like I should have done more".

You nodded slowly and said "I know, I figured you felt that way, that's why I said that and of course because it's true. Probably in your place I would have felt and thought very similarly, but that doesn't change the facts. They didn't want you to find out more, they tried to stop you by all means, even Yoda got nervous, otherwise he wouldn't have helped us".

Fives stood up and walked slowly up and down the room. You watched him silently for a while.

At some point you asked him, "What else did Yoda say? Did he want us to do something specific?"

Fives shook his head and said, "No, just that we should stay hidden, that it's still not safe for us. The Republic no longer exists, practically overnight everything has changed, instead of the Republic, we now have an Empire, Chancellor Palpatine, is the Emperor."

He gritted his teeth, "Just as I said, when I had my audience with the Chancellor, he admitted that the chips were part of his plan."

You could feel yourself turning pale.

"What are you saying? The chancellor himself is behind this?"

Fives nodded gravely.

You thought about your uncle and what would happen if someone found out he had helped Fives. After all, he had helped prepare your escape, what if one of those helpers spilled the beans?

Fives looked at you and he guessed your thought process.

"I'm sure Sentor Payne is fine, don't worry".

He came over to you and gently put his hands on your shoulders.

"He knows how to protect himself for sure"

Your heart beat faster and you felt a little sick.

"Even if no one betrays him, I know my uncle, he will not easily submit to a self-proclaimed emperor, he will probably get himself into trouble"

Fives shook his head.

"Senator Payne is a smart man, I'm sure he's already left Coruscant".

You took a deep breath, hoping Fives was right. You weren't so sure he would really retreat.

"What do we do now? Do we wait?" you asked him quietly as he pulled you into his arms.

Fives sighed, then said, "Yeah, for now there's not much we can do. Master Yoda says he'll send Chewbacca over with more info as soon as possible, but when exactly that will be he didn't say."

"Okay" you said quietly and wrapped your arms around his middle "Then we'll wait here until then, together"

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