#if i stayed fine until after i could just crash and recover

[clonewarsahsoka]

I want to give up so bad

[powderpinkprincess]

Twin Telepathy II. [Lando Norris & twin sister!reader]

find part one here description: Little moments of your lives as twins.

You didn’t expect Lando to be there. He was always busy. These days, most of the time, you could only spend quality time with him if you were willing to follow him to race weekends and wait out your turn. It didn't sound good, but it was the truth.

You were sitting on the edge of the white hospital bed, your Mom watching you with the eyes of a hawk. Your Dad slipped out to get coffee for the two of them. When he entered with Lando behind him, you blinked.

 “I brought you someone,” your Dad sent you a half-smile, noticing your expression.

Lando’s eyes were scanning you like he was checking if you were still alive or if he should start planning a funeral. Then, his mouth quirked into a half-smirk that said, “I’m worried, but don’t expect me to say it.”

 “Wow, Y/N,” he said, dropping his bag on the chair. “I was beginning to think you’d actually managed to survive this month without nearly killing yourself. Guess not.”

 “How did you get here?” you whispered. He was the last person you expected, considering that you only wrecked your car this morning.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, like hopping on a private jet halfway across the continent to check if your sister’s skull was still intact was something he did every Tuesday.

 “Left mid-meeting. They’ll live. You, on the other hand…” His eyes wandered down to the cast on your wrist, then back to your face.

 “I’m fine,” you said. Defensive. Tired. A little touched, even if you’d rather eat your own cast than say it out loud.

 “You’re fine?” He snorted. “You’re sitting like a grandma, and you’re wearing the ugliest hospital gown I’ve ever seen. No offense.”

You looked down. Yeah, it was ugly. “Did you come here just to insult me?”

 “Yes,” he said immediately. “Absolutely. That’s the only reason I flew here like a maniac. To mock your fashion sense and check if your brain still works.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And?”

He grinned. “Jury’s still out.”

Your mom let out a quiet sigh from the corner. “Be nice,” she muttered at him, like it was a reflex.

 “So…” you said before he could continue. “How long are you staying?”

He shrugged again. “Dunno. As long as I need to. Or until you’re back to being annoying and I can’t take it anymore. Whichever comes first.”

 “Wow. I feel so loved.”

 “You are,” he said, like it wasn’t even a question. Then, with perfect timing, he added, “Though you kinda ruined my day, so please don’t do this again. For a moment, I thought I would have to donate my next champagne bottle to raise awareness of road accidents.”

A nice comeback was on the tip of your tongue, but then the meaning behind his words reached you, and you bit it back. He was scared. You got it – you hated when he crashed as well. But he was trained and well-protected. You weren’t. You could only imagine the way your Mom called him, because when you woke up, she was still crying. You were a little bruised, you bumped your head, and your wrist was broken, but you were alive. Shaken, but alive.

---

Lando had been thinking you needed a break. You haven’t seen each other since the accident, which was a long time ago. As a Norris would do, you didn’t really take time to think and recover. You had dived back into work as soon as you could.

Monaco was coming up. It was the perfect excuse. A few friends were already there, including Max Fewtrell, and Lando decided: you were coming with them. Lando sent you the plane tickets and the paddock pass before you could argue.

He couldn’t get away to pick you up himself - too much going on, as always - but he arranged for Max and one of his other friends, someone you’d never met, to meet you at the airport.

Max knew exactly what to look for after your plane landed. He spotted you immediately, weaving through the arrivals crowd with determination. He nudged the friend, Toby, beside him. “There she is.”

 “Where?” Toby asked, scanning the people in the distance.

 “There, in the blue shirt. The one that looks just like Lando. Well, like a female version of him.”

Toby blinked, looking you over with surprise. He finally saw you, too. “No way. They’re like twins or something?”

 Max nodded in amusement. “I mean, they all look very similar, but Y/N and Lando obviously won the competition.”

Meanwhile, you spotted Max as well and hurried your steps. You hugged him tightly, finding his familiarity finally comforting. He and Lando have been best friends since they were children. You have known him forever.

 “Y/N! Took you time,” Max joked, hugging you back.

Then, you turned to his friend. “You must be Toby then.”

Toby nodded slowly, staring at your face. “Lando told me one of his sisters was coming, but he never said he had a twin. Seriously?”

 “Alright, guys, let’s get going until we can get out of here,” Max waved his hand quickly. “You can talk in the car, but I don’t want to be stuck in this crowd.”

---

You knocked on the door of Lando’s driver's room. You were impatient to finally get inside, hoping it was air-conditioned. You were a British girl, and this Monegasque weather was killing you.

 “Come in, Y/N,” came his voice immediately from the other side.

You sighed and pushed the door open. “Damn it. I wanted to surprise you.”

Lando didn’t even look up from lacing his shoes. “When have you ever surprised me?”

 “I’ve definitely surprised you before.”

 “Name one time that wasn’t you driving your car into the ditch.” He stopped for a minute. “Well, that wasn’t really a surprise, either.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You didn’t know what to say, so you just crossed your arms.

He smirked, finally looking up. “Also, no one else knocks like they’re trying to break the door down with their fist. It’s a dead giveaway.”

You dropped into the seat across from him. “I’ll start knocking like a normal person.”

 “Please don’t. Then I’ll really be alarmed.”

find part three here

[lovecoatedwords]

Bad nights (part three)

A/N: hey everyone!! So glad everyone like bad nights!! I am currently writing another poly marauders! So if stay tuned!! Thank you for reading!!

Summary: Remus got clingy cuz of the full moon, James lost a match, Sirius has problems with his parents and you aren’t well. How Will this situation turn out?

Read bad nights part two, here.

You had just stepped away, too overwhelmed by the emotions in the room to stay, but now, standing just outside the door, you could feel the weight of the tension that hung between you all. The words you’d said, the way you’d walked away, still echoed in the back of your mind. You never meant to make them feel guilty. You just couldn’t hold it all together anymore, and maybe, just maybe, they needed to see it.

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to the door and opened it slowly, unsure of what you'd find inside.

The kitchen was where you found them, all three of them sitting at the table, heads bowed, shoulders tense. Remus was standing by the window, looking out into the quiet street below. The calm, ever-stable presence he usually had was fractured today, his shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion. He hadn’t yet fully recovered from the full moon, and the way his hand fidgeted with the hem of his shirt revealed just how raw he felt.

James was hunched forward at the table, his elbows resting heavily on the surface, fingers running through his messy hair in frustration. His eyes were shadowed, and you could tell that he had been carrying his own burden. Sirius, too, was sitting beside him, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, staring out the window with a quiet intensity that spoke of more than just frustration. There was something deeper there. A hurt he hadn’t been able to voice until now.

The moment you stepped inside, you felt the thick raw tension. They turned to face you, their expressions unreadable at first, but there was a heaviness in the air that made it impossible for any of you to hide what you had been feeling.

It was James who spoke first, his voice rough and hesitant. "I'm sorry. I… I know I’ve been too caught up in my own head, and I haven’t seen how much you’ve been carrying, too." He ran a hand through his hair again, his gaze never quite meeting yours. "I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you earlier. I… I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine. Not when it’s clear it isn’t."

Sirius shifted in his seat, his dark eyes meeting James's for a fleeting moment before he spoke, his voice tinged with regret. "James is right. I’ve been selfish too. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own anger and frustration that I didn’t stop to think about what you’re dealing with." His jaw clenched briefly before he looked at you, . I’m sorry for taking it all out on you. You’ve been carrying everyone’s burdens,including mine, and I never stopped to ask how you were holding up."

Remus, standing by the window, turned then, his eyes filled with concern. "I should have noticed, too. I’ve been clinging to you for comfort after the full moon, and I never stopped to think about how much I was asking of you. You’ve always been the one holding us together, and I should’ve been more aware of how that was affecting you." His voice was soft, his words gentle but heavy. "I’m sorry for adding to the pressure."

You stood there in the doorway, your heart heavy with everything they were saying, everything they were admitting. They were apologizing, but it didn’t feel like they were apologizing just for the moments when they had snapped at you. They were apologizing for not seeing you at all, for not realizing that you, too, needed support.

You closed your eyes, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. "I’m sorry too," you said, the words quiet but genuine. You stepped closer to them, your eyes flicking from one to the other. "I shouldn’t have let it all build up. I should’ve said something sooner. I should’ve told you I was struggling, that I couldn’t keep being the one to fix everything."

"No," Remus said quickly, his voice thick with emotion. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently take yours,. "You’ve always been there for us, and we’ve been blind to how much it’s been costing you. We’re sorry, all of us." He squeezed your hand. "You don’t have to do it alone."

Sirius, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him, leaned forward. His voice was low, raw with regret. "You’ve always carried us, and we’ve never stopped to ask how you’re doing. We’ve been selfish. I’ve been selfish." He stood up, his eyes searching yours, as though he were pleading for your forgiveness. "Please, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know what to do with all this." He let out a long breath, and then, as if unsure of what else to say, he moved closer to you.

James stood up as well, and without another word, he reached for you, his hand finding yours. "I don’t want you to carry everything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep it all together when you’re the one who needs support. You don’t have to do this alone anymore."

The distance between you, began to close. Remus had always been the calm one, but even he had his breaking point. Sirius had always been the one with the sharp words, but today he was raw, vulnerable. James, too, had his own walls up, but now, he was standing before you, trying to tear them down.

Your gaze flicked between them. They were apologizing,, but there was something else there, something deeper. And before you could say anything, James took a step closer to Sirius, his hand finding the back of his neck, pulling him in. The kiss they shared was slow, unhurried, but full of meaning

When they pulled back, Sirius looked at James with his red rimmed eyes. “I am sorry. I never meant to say all theses things, I was just too pent up and-and, I was selfish towards you too.” he said quietly, his voice still thick with emotion.

James smiled faintly, his thumb brushing over Sirius’s lips. "No Siri, its not only your fault, i should have been more understanding. I am sorry and I love you darling." James said everything in one breath making Remus chuckle.

Sirius turned to Remus and without saying anything instantly wrapped his arms around him, pleading him, apologising him.

You saw Remus relax completely in his embrace when you felt a hand on your shoulder. James, looked at you and brought you closer to himself, kissing your forehead.

Sirius turned to you then, his eyes full of remorse but also something else—something softer. "We’re sorry, love. We’ve been asking too much of you, and that’s not fair." His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried everything that needed to be said.

You nodded, a small tear slipping down your cheek. "I’m sorry too. I should’ve let you in sooner. I was afraid of being too much. But I’ve never wanted to be anything but there for all of you."

Remus moved to you then, pulling you into his arms. "You’re never too much, love," he said softly, his lips brushing against your temple. "And we’re going to be better. For you. For all of us."

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requests open!!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

helloooo, could you write a fic where the OC is also a f1 driver and they're Lando's rival, buutt one race weekend she goes into his driver's room to argue with him but they do more because they're both frustrated? like pure smut

The Fine Line || LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!driver!reader Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, angst, smut WC: 1.6k F1 Masterlist

No one tried to stop you as you stormed through the McLaren garage, ascending the stairs two at a time just to reach the driver's room quicker. Your heel planted on the door and it flew open with a bang and left a handle sized hole in the plaster where it struck.

"I get that you don't like me but you don't have to drive me into the fucking wall, Norris."

Lando had barely returned to the room after crashing out of the race with the collision but you were too angry to see the state of his undress, his fireproof shirt carelessly strewn across the floor.

“You really think too highly of yourself,” he scoffed, pulling the door out from the wall and slamming it closed. 

“So you didn’t cut into my line and take me out?” you dared, the video footage proof that it was exactly what he had done.

“I can’t stand you, why would I want to go anywhere near you and your precious racing line?” he growled as each step brought him closer until he was dominating your personal space.

Your lips pulled up into a taunting smirk and you tilted your head back to meet his eyes. “You are awfully close, for a man that doesn’t want to be near me.”

His eyes traced the curve of your lips before he dragged them back to your eyes and he dipped his head to whisper in your ear.  “You came here first.”

Your mouth was dry as you swallowed and the room suddenly felt too hot. “Because you put me into a fucking wall, Norris.”

“This is putting you into a wall,” he said as he pushed you back. 

You waited for the impact but his arm snaked around your back and his palm cradled your head before the contact came. His entire body was pressed the length of yours and a needy whine escaped your lips as the race high and adrenaline left your body screaming for an outlet. 

“You like that? Hmm?” he smirked but you returned it as you rolled your hips and felt his erection proudly digging into your stomach.

“Don’t take it personally, Norris, it’s not you, you just have the right…bits.” 

“I don’t believe you.” He fingers toyed with the zip and your collar, waiting to see if you would slap them away in this strange game of chicken. The only sounds were the quickening of your breath and the tear of Velcro before he drew the zip down your body and saw your skin-tight fireproof shirt beneath. 

You dragged your nails down his back and smirked as he groaned at the heat that flared from the five angry red lines. Nipping at his jaw, he bucked his hips before you pushed him away. “And I don’t care.”

“Bullshit,” he chuckled when he recovered and combed a hand through his messy hair. “Just admit it, you want me.”

“I want you, Lando,” you admitted as you opened the door. “I want you…to stay the fuck off my race line.”

Two Months Later You had the cash ready in hand when the knock at your door came, but it wasn’t who you expected on the other side. 

“Blocking me?” Lando huffed as he pushed his way inside your suite. “That’s fucking low.”

You rolled your eyes at the scathing attitude. “You think I wanted a penalty? I wasn’t even impeding you, there was plenty of room if you used your eyes to look for something other than the paddock bunnies.”

You started to close the door when the food you had ordered arrived, the poor man looking unsettled as his eyes danced between you and Lando. “Are you alright, ma’am? Would you like me to call security?”

The hostility was palpable and you chuckled as you took the bag, handing the money over with a sizable tip. “I can handle him, thanks.”

He clearly wasn’t all that satisfied but nodded and left, wishing you a good evening before you closed the door. The entire hotel didn’t need to hear you and Lando’s war of words. 

“You can’t even handle qualifying,” he scoffed, peeking over your shoulder into the bag. “Is that katsu?”

“Yes, and no, you are not getting any.” You wanted to eat it while it was hot but you couldn’t ignore the papaya elephant in the room. “Did you come here for anything else?”

“Like what?”

��How would I know? I don’t know what goes on in that little head of yours. But I picture it’s something like that monkey banging cymbals together on repeat.”

“You were right with the banging,” he muttered as he helped himself to your mini bar. “Wrong with the animal.”

“Gross.” Effectively put off your food, you pushed the dish away and decided a drink was better. Lando was leaning against the countertop, his legs wide manspreading and his arms crossed, trying to look dominant. He watched you bend down to grab a miniature bottle of champagne from the fridge, not bothering with a glass as you popped the cork. 

“Want a sip?” you offered. “It’s the closest you’ll get to tasting victory.”

“God I hate you,” he growled as he pushed your hand away. 

You chuckled and took a sip of the sweet bubbles. “There’s a fine line between love and hate. I think you’re just confused.”

“Okay, I love to hate you.” 

You stepped between his legs and placed your bottle next to his on the bench. He watched with half hooded eyes as you reached for his belt and made no effort to stop you from unbuckling it. “Is that why you always find a reason to come to my room?”

“Don’t act like you don’t get off on it too.” His arms uncrossed and his hands drifted over your hips before disappearing into the back pockets of your jeans where he squeezed your ass. His breath teased the shell of your ear as a hand snaked up your neck until he cradled your cheek, his thumb brushing beneath your eye as he whispered, “I remember seeing tears last time, you came so hard.”

“Those were tears of disappointment, that you couldn’t last longer,” you lied. The bastard was right, no one could make you angry like he could but it made for some explosive sex. 

“I can go all night, baby,” Lando chuckled darkly before his hand dropped to the base of your throat and he crushed his lips to yours. His fingers tightened slightly, warning you of his strength as he pulled back and bit his bottom lip in contemplation. “Guess I’ll just have to remind you again.” 

The colours of your clothes clashed as they were abandoned to the floor, his McLaren papaya and your Alpine pink proving just how badly the two together were. But it didn’t stop you from taking him to your bed, from your bodies colliding with desperate need, from crying out his name in ecstasy. 

His body bore the marks of your nails, and yours held the marks of his mouth, where he had nipped and sucked his way across your collar. There was no care given between you in the primal need to chase a high, an outlet for the fire that burned inside of you, except for where you marked each other.

“There they are,” Lando chuckled proudly as his fingers left bruises on your hips, pulling you back to meet his hips with every long hard thrust. His pace was relentless, your thighs shaking as you lost all sense of self and screwed your eyes shut as you felt them begin to sting. 

Your throat was hoarse and your lips swollen from the dominating kisses that stole the louder cries from them. His skin was slick with sweat and his breath came in quick pants as his forehead crumpled in restraint, his teeth clenched together. 

“Go on, baby, open your eyes for me,” he taunted as a tear escaped the corner, disappearing into your hair as you shook your head. “No?”

He didn’t like to be denied and his palm slapped down on your clit, eliciting a sharp whimper as it only intensified the heat in your core. Your back arched and your lips curled into a smirk before parting with a drawn out moan as he snapped his hips even faster, the room filling with the sound of his skin slapping yours. 

“Open. Your. Eyes,” he growled, pinching your nipple sharply.

“Ah,” you cried out as your eyes flew open and to meet his. The heat exploded as you came again, the waves of the orgasm rocking your entire body and his jaw fell slack at the feel of your walls clenching tight around him.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he succumbed to his own release. He pulled out and spilled himself over your stomach, fisting his cock and squeezing out every last milky drop before sitting back on his heels panting. His face was smug as he memorised the sight before him, your eyes half closed, your lips parted, the hickeys he left on your collar, the mess he left on your belly, your clit swollen and oversensitized, your cunt dripping with your arousal. “Fuck.”

He climbed off the bed, stumbling a bit with lightheadedness before catching himself and grabbing his clothes. You rolled over like a lazy cat and watched him dress just as quickly as he had undressed before leaving without a goodbye. You would have remained silent too with his exit except you heard the telltale crinkle of a paper bag and everything you felt before came crashing back.

“Get your own fucking food, Norris!”

[joobi7]

BIKER!SUKUNA X NURSE!READER

tldr: sukuna is the leader of a feared bike gang that's known for being the strongest. but what happens when the strongest finally loses? sukuna is sent to the hospital in critical condition and you are his nurse...

tw: mentions of violence and blood

wc: 1.4k

A/N: see above image to understand what a "bunny apple slice" looks like. plz tell me yall know what im talking about or else ill feel very sad and goofy :(

ִֶָ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ִֶָ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ִֶָ⋅˚₊

Sukuna constantly finds himself in fights due to his blunt (and frankly asshole-y) attitude. He leads a motorcycle gang called the “Curses”. Truth be told Sukuna would’ve much rather the group be devoid of the cringey name, but Uraume already made matching motorcycle stickers for everyone.

Sukuna’s brash actions got himself into another fight. This wasn’t just any fight—he had picked a clash with a gang called the Arashi.

Earlier that week, they had been engaged in a shady deal that Sukuna had stumbled upon. His interference had been straightforward—he had dismantled their operation with little regard for the fallout. The Arashi, feeling publicly humiliated and threatened, had taken it personally.

Now, as Sukuna faced the Arashi members, it was clear this was different than a usual brawl. They had come ready for a real fight, bringing weapons and even a stolen car in an attempt to run Sukuna over. 

Despite his peak physique and fighting experience, Sukuna couldn’t withstand the impact of a car.

 By the time his gang members, Kenjaku and Uraume, arrived, the Arashi had already fled, leaving Sukuna badly injured at the bloody scene. They rushed him to the nearest hospital, worried about his condition.

Two days later, Sukuna awoke in a hospital bed, groggy and disoriented. The sterile smell of antiseptic and the beeping of medical equipment were overstimulating. His mind raced as he tried to piece together his predicament. It didn’t take long to realize the extent of his injuries. His spine was severely damaged due to the car crash, and he would need extensive physical therapy in order to recover. 

“Get me the fuck out of here” he spat, glaring at both you and the doctor. “I don’t need this place.”

“Sir, you need to stay put,” you say, clearly unaffected by his outburst. “Your injuries are severe. You could do lasting damage if you don’t follow the treatment plan.”

Sukuna’s gaze turned to you. You were a university student interning as a nurse at the local hospital. You had already witnessed several of his outbursts since he woke from his coma, and was tired of his attitude.

Although Sukuna remained quiet after your remark, you could feel his glare drilling into the back of your head as you left the room.

Five days passed with Sukuna refusing to participate in physical therapy. Uraume and Kenjaku visited frequently, trying to convince him to stay and cooperate, but he wouldn’t budge.

On the eighth day, you tried.

“You’re not leaving until you’re well enough. Your spine is damaged. Physical therapy is essential for a full recovery.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need this hospital to fix me. I’m fine.”

Ignoring his hostility, you pressed on. “If you leave now, you’ll only prolong your recovery or make things worse. . We both know that you haven’t been able to regain all control over your left leg.”

Sukuna grits his teeth at the truth of your comment. The only reason why he hasn’t run away from the hospital in the middle of the night was because he physically couldn’t. He could barely make it halfway to the door before collapsing. 

Deep down, Sukuna knew that physical therapy was the logical choice that was in his best interest. But partaking in physical therapy meant admitting his vulnerability, it would be on display for everyone to see. The biker gang leader Sukuna was supposed to be invincible. He’s not supposed to lose. He can’t lose. What was he if he wasn’t the strongest?

“No person can beat a car going 40 mph at them,” you said softly. “Even the strongest.” 

“I don’t need your comfort,” Sukuna said, looking away. Still, you had said exactly what he needed to hear. “Fine, sign me up for physical therapy… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.” 

For the first time, he sees you break into a smile. You look as if you won the lottery or someone just told you Santa was real or both. “How odd”, he thinks, “how can you smile so easily just from hearing those words?”

The first physical therapy session was challenging. When you touched Sukuna’s left leg to guide him through an exercise, he instinctively pushed you away, causing you to fall.

Sukuna opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything you apologized. “Sorry I didn’t ask for your permission for physical contact. I apologize if that made you uncomfortable. Here, let's try another exercise and I’ll be sure to avoid contact.” 

Sukuna begrudgingly followed through, but he was confused. Why did he open his mouth to speak? What was he going to say? Was he going to apologize for pushing you? Did he feel sorry? Did he not mind your touch?

The days that followed were a mix of reluctant cooperation and gruff acknowledgment. You continued to work with him, and your patience provided a stark contrast to his abrasive demeanor.

He grumbled through physical therapy, the exercises painstaking and his pride wounded. But as days turned into weeks, he began to see the value in your persistence. Your care wasn’t just about the job; it was about his well-being. Even though he was too proud to admit it, Sukuna respected your dedication to even an asshole like him.

One evening, after another grueling therapy session, Sukuna caught you staying late, tending to his needs despite your shift ending hours ago.

“Why do you keep staying late?” he asked, curiously. “Don’t you have a life outside of this?”

You looked at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Because someone has to make sure you don’t screw up your recovery.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly. “You’re a pain, you know that?”

“And you’re not exactly a pleasure to be around,” you retorted playfully. 

One afternoon, an author visited the hospital to read a picture book about a bunny. As you walked Sukuna back from his physical therapy session, you noticed him eyeing a display of bunny plushies set up for the event. He thinks of how the bunny sort of looks like you.

Noticing his interest, you teased him. “Want one of those bunny plushies? I could get one for you.”

Sukuna turned his head, trying to keep his usual stern expression, but there was a faint blush creeping up to the tips of his ears. He takes a moment to collect himself before giving you a deadpan look, though it was clear he was trying hard not to smile. “No, I don’t need a stuffed bunny.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes internally. “Sure, whatever you say,” you retort. 

Later that day, as part of your routine, you brought Sukuna his usual apples for a snack. But today, you had taken a bit of extra time to cut ears into each apple slice so they look like rabbits. Although Sukuna’s pride wouldn’t allow him to keep a fluffy bunny plushie, hopefully he would accept the rabbit shaped apples.

You left the plate in his room while he napped. When Sukuna saw the apple bunnies, his face turned a deep share of red. “I thought I hid my interest in the rabbits well,” he muttered, abashedly.

His usual cool demeanor cracked, and he couldn’t hide his embarrassment. He stared at the apple bunnies, his eyes softening as he realized the effort you had put into them.

As Sukuna sat there on the hospital bed, munching on the apple bunnies, he couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of warmth and awkwardness. Sukuna found himself lost in thought as he munched on the apple slices shaped like little rabbits. He started imagining what it must have been like for you while you were preparing them. The cuts weren’t perfect—clearly an amateur’s attempt—but the effort you put into carving those bunny ears made Sukuna feel oddly touched.

He pictured you scrunching your nose in concentration, much like you did when guiding him through difficult physical therapy exercises. Or maybe you had a proud, toothy grin when you finished, similar to the one you wore when you beat him at whatever board game you guys were playing that day.

He looked at the remaining apple bunny slice on the plate and buried his blushing face in his hands. He just fell in love.

[takusan-no-ai]

You need a lollipop

PAIRING: Ellen x Male Reader (Romantic) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: (Y/N) is a workaholic, and his girlfriend Ellen will force him to take a break.

“I saw this one SUPER cute nail polish online yesterday!” Ruby said while walking with her friends around campus. It was break time and so the four friends, Ruby, Monna, Lynn, and Ellen, decided to just walk and talk outside.

“Really? Send it to me later…,” Ellen replied. Monna and Lynn were having a mini convo of their own, and everyone was happy. Key word, was.

A large group of boys, likely in the track team as Ellen noted, came gunning straight for them. The girls were able to dodge, but the boy in front of them with his face in a book didn’t. And so he crashed right on top of Ellen, who was too tired to dodge again.

They both rubbed their foreheads, while Ellen’s friends were giggling in the background. She looked at them confused for a moment, and then she looked at the boy straddling her; (Y/N), sits in the seat at the front of class, voted most likely to be an overachiever. She also kinda liked him. Not a lot. Only a little. Really, just a little…

Her friends were aware of this, and only helped her up after the poor boy started freaking out about it. “Don’t worry, it’s those jocks fault, not yours. Besides, everyone else is fine.” Moona calmed the situation down naturally.

Ellen didn’t make eye contact with (Y/N), her face starting to get too warm for comfort after the whole ordeal. And she just knew her friends would tease her endlessly; the thought alone made Ellen puff out her cheeks.

Some days had passed since then, with Ellen’s eyes always drifting over towards (Y/N) during class. It wasn’t until she saw him especially tired that she grew worried of his health. Though she’d never admit it directly.

He was sitting at his desk, eyes heavy with bags, hair messy, and the tips of his fingers red from the hard grip of his pencil as he scribbled down unintelligible notes. Ellen walked over to him, her tail swaying slightly back and forth. She looked around the room, making sure her friends weren’t watching.

“Hey.” She said

He shook slightly, immediately turning around to look at her. “So-sorry. How long have you been there?” (Y/N) asked. Ellen rolled her eyes and handed him a lollipop. He made a confused expression.

“You clearly need one.” She thrusted it into his hand and walked away. Before she could flee the scene he grabbed her hand and forced eye contact with her.

“Thank you. My name’s (Y/N), what’s yours?” He asked, letting go of her.

“…hmm…Ellen.”

From then on the relationship progressed smoothly, and before Ellen knew it (her friends already betted on it happening) they both started dating.

Of course, Ellen still took note of his constant over working habits; she honestly never understood it. Why didn’t he sleep more often? Sleep is great. It recovers energy, can give sweet dreams, and lets you skip hours of the day. What wasn’t there to love about it?!

So, to keep him from being in an early grave, Ellen took it upon herself to graciously expend her own energy and keep him away from work. Karaoke, skipping class, listening to concerts, even just sleeping. It didn’t always work, but she did notice a change in habits with (Y/N).

He was more willing to take breaks, and would often text Ellen about his excitement to spend more time with his girlfriend.

“Hey pup, ready for a movie night?” He asked cheerfully; his eyes were burning bright, appearance clean enough where he could be mistaken for a celeb, and a cute smile to boot.

Ellen puffed out her cheeks, this was getting too much. Love was too energy draining, especially with (Y/N); her heart kept pounding every time she’s with him, which makes her exhausted, but she likes it so she stays, which makes her really exhausted. It was a never ending cycle. And yet she still loved it.

Ellen sat down next to him, placing her tail on his lap so he could hug it. “Yeah, movie nights are only fun when I’m with you.”

- Fin

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hi!! This might be a weird request, but I hope it's not too confusing: I love Destiel, but I get really frustrated trying to find fic where one or the other character isn't super confident/smug/Dommy most of the time. To be honest, I'll always be hung up on that scene at the end of It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester, with the two realising their similarities in chasing after absent father figures. Could you rec any fics where they're both damaged and vulnerable and learn to be kind and open?

Hello there!

Here are a few that might fit:

don't care where you've been by thanks_tacos (Explicit, 328k words)

Dean's life is finally changing. After years of enduring Alastair's abuse, the alpha dies and Dean's married off to the next alpha the system pairs him with - Castiel. The man is strange and distant, but not exactly bad, and Dean's determined to be on his best behavior and not mess up the chance he was given. Soon enough, though, he fucks up anyway and has to call the alpha for help. Castiel's lived his entire life without an omega by his side, and he was fine with that. He doesn't know how to proceed once he's suddenly married to a beautiful man who's obviously been through a lot. Omegas were always a confusing subject to him, so he tries not to interfere much - neither of them is there by their choice. But when Dean calls for help, he understands he's going to have to set some things straight and engage more.

Everybody Needs the Light by opal_bullets (Mature, 46k words)

In the summer of 2005, a gruesome hunt leaves a lonely and hurting Dean to take refuge in a remote Minnesota motel. He only means to stop for the night, yet finds himself compelled to stay. Maybe it’s the old, well loved lodge, or his cozy little cabin, or the spectacular views off the cliffs of Lake Superior. Or maybe it’s Castiel, the guy who runs the place. Dean’s falling for him fast, but there’s more to complicate the matter than the family business. Something strange is afoot in the Northwoods…Is Cas just caught in the crossfire, or is he the one standing at the center of it all?

First by FriendofCarlotta (Explicit, 25k words)

Romance novelist Castiel Novak is recovering from an addiction to painkillers and he’s struggling to settle back into life post-rehab. His therapist suggests visiting a local farm where anyone can spend an hour or two in the calming company of rabbits. The farm’s owner, Dean, is himself a recovering alcoholic… and a huge fan of Castiel’s books. A story of recovery, romance and rabbits, told in a series of firsts.

For Evermore by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 110k words)

There's no place like home. This was a line Castiel used to know by heart when he was a kid, watching The Wizard of Oz and believing fairytales were real. At thirty-one years old, he isn't a kid anymore, and it has been twelve years since he has known what home feels like. Twelve years. That's when his world had come crashing down and he had left his hometown, Holly Springs, with the broken pieces of what he once was to build a new life in San Francisco. But as circumstances force him to come back to the only place he swore he would never return to, Castiel is finally forced to face everything he once knew and loved. Especially when said everything is made of spring-green eyes and a stardust of freckles, wrapped in all the memories Castiel was not able to erase from his heart. After twelve years, Dean is as mesmerizing as Castiel remembers, but the scars of what was broken still run as deeply as the marrow of his bones, and Castiel will do everything he can to protect himself. After all, his favorite movie also taught him that 'until hearts can be made unbreakable,' he can’t listen to his own.

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster (Explicit, 94k words)

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

IPAMIS OL OLPRIT by emmbrancsxx0 (Explicit, 56k words)

The Winchesters, Castiel, and Jack discover the Men of Letters hid away a weapon that may be able to kill Michael. The only problem: it can only be used with John Winchester's blood. When Rowena performs a spell to temporarily bring John back, Dean runs into another problem. His father doesn't approve of his angel, and Castiel isn't too impressed with John either.

Nine Times We Met (And One Christmas We Parted) by almaasi (Explicit, 54k words)

On the last day of school before Christmas vacation, Mr. Castiel Quinn discovers that one of his young students has smuggled male pornography into the classroom. Upon being told that the photos belong to the boy's uncle, Castiel vows to himself that he will keep the other man's preferences a secret. It's 1947; a man experiencing attraction to another man or fantasising about his sexual touch are transgressive faults, which could potentially result in imprisonment - or worse. But then the uncle walks in. The photos are of him: Dean Winchester, a rogue with an empty pocket and a child to feed. Castiel doesn't know it yet, but his life is never going to be the same again. Years pass between chance meetings, but even though they live their lives apart, Dean and Castiel's story is proof that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder.

six hundred sundays (and many more) by sobsicles (Mature, 15k words)

Dean starts falling in love with him on a slow Sunday morning under slanted sunlight that slips through the gaps in the trees.

Solitudes by ilovehowyouletmefall (Mature, 21k words)

Dean and Castiel understand each other more than anyone else. They misunderstand each other more than anyone else as well. After Cas is nearly killed by Ramiel, Dean is coming very close to acknowledging that he wants something more from Cas than friendship. Cas, however, feels the weight of his responsibility very heavily. When Dean asks Cas to stick around longer, Cas says he needs to keep looking for Kelly, leaving Dean feeling dejected. But Cas agrees to help out on one more hunt before he leaves. Neither him nor Dean realize that the monster they're after can make their worst nightmares come true. OR: Dean thinks Cas is killed. Cas is there to witness the aftermath.

Something by the Sea by destielpasta (Mature, 30k words)

After suffering the horrific cost of being cured from demonhood, Dean and Cas settle down in the small town of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, buying a run-down shack near the beach to call their own. Dean attempts to get into a normal routine– fixing up the kitchen, chopping wood for the fire, and picking out paint colors– all with the pleasant backdrop of Cas’s company and a beach fifty feet away. These things prove themselves to be fragile, however, and the past haunts Dean in the form of nightmares and strange phone-calls from an untraceable number, along with the far-from-innocent history of their new house.

The Evil that Men do by MalicMalic (Explicit, 174k words)

When Dean learns his girlfriend found the man that raped her all those years ago, he is ready to make him feel the exact formation of Dean's knuckles, but Bela had some other ideas in mind. Dean is not what you might call a good guy, but even some things are too much for him. And then the worst thing happens - Dean learns they made a mistake. The guilt will consume him, making him change his foul path, but nothing will ever seem enough, even when he gets a chance for redemption.

The Greatest of These by DoctorProfessorSong (Teen and Up, 9k words)

When Jack pulls Cas from the Empty, his vessel is damaged. Jack is working on it. In the meantime, Cas is stuck hanging around the bunker in his Trueform. In other words, the fic where Dean takes Trueform!Cas on little dates and the author has way too much fun with angel lore

[legerescriptor]

I saw a post the other day, about how humans are indestructible. How nothing can stop us.

Shot in the arms? The breast? Even in the lungs or the head? Nothing we can't recover from.

Acid in the eyes or even burning alive? We're not dead yet. Not dead soon.

We can recover from basically anything if we have the willpower to do so and even with way less resources and medical aid than you might think.

And that's what we seem to be to other species. On a spaceship it's always the human that willingly goes into danger zone, because they very probably will survive about anything that would kill other species immediately.

Except for when a human comes back alive but not quite so. Sometimes a human comes back and just a few days later is getting sick. Some are coughing blood and some are just slowly losing energy, always needing more sleep, until they never wake up again.

Sometimes humans survive the battlefield, but die slowly later on and no one knows why. They seemed fine. They didn't even have an injury. They just... Slowly withered away. Very very slowly. And most of the time very very painful.

The tale of the indestructible human was just that. A tale. A myth. But it kept getting repeated. It kept getting told. Because it was interesting, unbelievable, heroic.

But the truth? It was gruesome, hard to hear and even harder to tell. It was a horror story. And worst of all: It was even harder to believe than the myth.

But then there was this day. A spaceship, alone, no help could reach them. Not fast enough. Something needed fixing. But there was radiation coming off it and all of the protective gear was damaged and no longer useable since the ship crashed into a meteor only a few days prior. Nothing too bad happened. Just the storage. The storage and with it all the gear in it.

And now they needed it, noone would survive the radiation. Noone except for maybe...

They asked the humans, there were two of them on the ship, and they were indestructible, right? Surely they could go and fix it. They could save them all.

When they approached them with their request, one immediately nodded, while the other looked shocked.

"You can't go in there."

"Of course, I can."

"You will die!"

Everyone in the room looked taken aback. Surely they wouldn't die? Humans didn't die. That's what everyone said.

The human indeed shook their head.

"I'll be fine. And we will all die if no one goes in there."

"Oh, please, don't. Don't do this. Don't sacrifice yourself."

"I have to."

"I'll come with you!"

"You absolutely will not."

"But- but you need help!"

"I don't. And you know that as well as I do. Stay here. I'll go." The human stood up and went to leave.

"I'll go! Instead of you!"

"No!" Fast. Loud. Fierce. "It"ll be me." They went away.

Their friend tugged on their arm and tried to convince them to stay, but they just shook off their arm.

The captain was worried. Why were they arguing?

"Nothing will happen to them. Humans are indestructible, after all. Am I right?"

They just looked at the captain with tears in their eyes and stormed off, in the other direction as their crewmate.

A few hours later the brave human came back from their mission. It was successful. Everything was done. And without so much of a scratch at the humans body. They congratulated them, praised them. Even their human friend came back and hugged them, tightly, with still teary eyes.

The next days the humans spent a lot of time in their rooms, scarcely coming out, the one praised as their hero not eating well. They became weaker, day by day, while their friend stayed at their side, holding their hand and talking to them, even while they were asleep.

Of course, the crew worried, but they still believed, it was just exhaustion. After all, it was a difficult mission. And they saved all of their lives. They deserved the rest.

Until one day they heard sobbing. When they opened the door, they saw the human, laying on their friends body. Their still warm body, but without breath in their lungs and without a beat in their heart.

They were dead. Impossible.

Humans are indestructible.

"No!" The other human cried out loud, when they tried to take the body away. When they tried to touch them, when they tried to understand what happened. They were not injured. So why did they-

For a week, the other human didn't leave the room. Didn't talk to anyone. Didn't eat.

Everyone was worried. Would they lose them too? Was something happening to the humans? Maybe they were sick? A sickness even they couldn't survive?

But this human came back. Looking paler and older than before. But they came back alive.

Only then the captain dared to ask. "When you said, they'd die. You-"

"I meant it. It killed them. They went in, because you asked them. But it killed them."

"But I thought-"

"We are not. We never were. But they let you believe. Because they wanted to save us."

"Why didn't you tell us? We would have never let them go in there."

"I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because it was either them or me."

[fandom-lover2]

Energon Is Thicker Than Blood - pt 5

Part 4

Final

-image not mine-

“Ow!”

“Miko!” Jack and I snapped in unison, him standing and going to her side.

The wheelchair was a mistake. Had been since the second I had been placed into the seat.

Miko was obsessed with the thing, racing me around and taking it for a spin every second I wasn’t in it.

She’d almost crashed me into a tree while we were leaving the hospital. A tree! We were in the military hospital parking lot.

Jack had just managed to get to us in time, saving me from having to turn around and head right back through those glass doors.

But seriously, going down the stairs! God, this girl was going to give me premature grey hairs.

Jack was reaching her side, but Miko seemed more interested in seeing if her phone had survived, because she was filming the misadventure, so I assumed she was fine.

I shifted, trying to get a better view of them, but I moved too far and my knees jostled, causing me to hiss as pain rippled through my body.

Instantly, both Optimus and Ratchet were hovering over me, speaking over one another to ask if I was ok.

I think Optimus had heard of ‘helicopter parenting’ and was taking it a step further to ‘semi-truck guardian-ing’.

I couldn’t even breath too loudly or he’d take it as a sign that something was wrong and would be rushing over to cradle me against in his servos and glare at anyone who walked by too close. I still stand by theory he almost bit Bumblebee two days ago.  

And do you think I could move anywhere? Ha!

The wheelchair was freaking decoration at this point.

Ok, yeah, getting up and down from the catwalks I did need help. But once I was up or down, I could handle it from there but nope.

I had to be carried, everywhere. For anything.

Every sip was water was done so with the knowledge that in a couple minutes I’d be having to request assistance in going to the bathroom.

That had been a… traumatizing first for everyone. I was beginning to take my mom’s diaper suggestion seriously.

Of course we had to bring her and my dad in on the loop. I was in hospital, tortured, and no one could tell them why? Please.

They had been moved to the military base nearby for safe keeping, in case Silas had managed to get information about who I was.

No matter how much I insisted Silas wasn’t alive after what Megatron had unleashed, it was still just a precautionary.

At first, I was supposed to stay with them on the base, but Optimus was getting in the way just standing by my window and trying to get him to leave had almost started a second inter-galactic war, so I moved to the base.

It was awesome! No school, obviously, so I could sit and binge my shows, read books all day, do absolutely nothing but rest and recover.

That was for the first two days.

You never realize how much aimless moving you do in a day until you cannot do it.

I was chair, and sofa, and bed bound for the next three months, and I was about to murder someone. That fact that they were 20 feet tall and made of metal did not deter me.

“For the fifth time this hour, I am fine.” I all but growled to my guardian and his medic.

They backed off, three steps, and resumed acting like I couldn’t see them staring at me, waiting for the next excuse to jump forward.

I got it, I really did. Optimus guilty for me getting hurt, Ratchet guilty for not being able to help, yada yada, but it was getting ridiculous.

Not to mention Optimus was basically keeping me trapped in here.

I was released from the base hospital almost two weeks ago, three weeks since my surgery, and I wasn’t even allowed off the catwalks unless it was to go to his berthroom for bed, or the bathroom.

I was going stir crazy, cabin fever mixed in with the feeling of helplessness and being locked in.

Bulkhead came thundering down the hall, his peds vibrating the floor as he rushed into the main hanger. “Miko? What happened?”

Everyone was on edge, all the guardians turning their protective modes up to a million. Nobody wanted to relive what had happened, which is why only emergency energon runs were happening and no kids were allowed on those missions.

But, as much as Raf, Miko and Jack complained, they still got to go outside, breath fresh air, see the sun and sky.

I had spent so much time staring at the base’s walls I could see patterns in the structures. My own version of constellations.

Miko reassured her guardian, replaying the video to him of “How cool!” her stunt had been.

Jack came to sit beside me again, picking up the textbook he had dropped. “She’s crazy.” he muttered, before flipping back to the page we had been on.

While not physically able to attend school, I was not free from its clutches. Jack was passing along assignments and bringing home the homework for me so I kept on top of my studies.

It at least gave me something to do for about two hours a day.

The rest of the time, bored!

Books were entertaining, and Netflix was endless, but having nothing else to do but those two was getting old.

Raf, dear sweet Raf, had brought me some puzzles he’d got from his mother’s closet, but those had proven to require too much moving around to try find pieces. Nevermind if one fell off the table because big digits could not pick them up and I could not bend.

Miko had given me some of her art supplies, but I was not as bored as to make a fool of myself trying to draw a stick figure just yet.

The wheelchair was confiscated by a grouchy Ratchet, and the base fell into silence again.

A couple minutes later, I looked up from the worksheet Jack and I were working on and didn’t find Optimus standing vigil, as he had been. And, Ratchet was MIA too.

For the first time in two weeks, I was unsupervised.

I spun, ignoring my knees, and locked eyes with Bulkhead, who had jumped at my sudden movement. “Bulk! I will give you anything you want. Please, take me outside.”

The poor guy looked panicked, raising his servos and back away. “No way. Optimus and Ratchet were clear. If they find us-”

“Humans will die if they don’t spend time in the sun.” I shot back. “I haven’t been in the sun in almost a month. I’m going to die. Right, Jack?” I nudged the boy beside me, and thankfully he played along.

“Yeah, totally. She’s beginning to show signs of the paling.”

Bulkhead looked like he was about to pale. “I don’t know.”

“Please. Just two minutes. Nobody will know but us.”

“Come on, Bulk!” Miko threw in her support when my puppy eyes weren’t doing enough. “She needs this.”

“Alright.” he agreed, very reluctantly, and began to move over to me.

After days of this, I had learned there was no way to make it not hurt. No sideways way to shuffle, no pre-maneuver to try. All I could do was take a deep breath and wait for the ache to be over as I was gently lifted and then seated on his servo.

“Coming?” he addressed Miko and Jack as he began to move towards the lifts that would take us to the top of the silo.

“Hell yeah!” Miko cheered, already racing down the stairs and Jack close behind her.

We made it to the deck without running into anyone, and I finally sighed in relief when we were halfway up.

I blinked into the harshness of the setting sun, my eyes not used to natural light. A breeze blew my hair back, and I breathed in the dry, dusty desert air like it was made of gold.

The sun, though weak this late in the day, settled on my skin and warmed me in a way no amount of blankets could.

“This feels so good.” I mumbled, getting drunk off the sun and clean air.

But, of course, I couldn’t catch a break.

Not even a full minute after Bulk had stepped across the rocky top, the lift was lowering, not by our doing.

We’d been caught, and were now stranded up here with no way of escaping the incoming wrath.

I prayed it was Optimus. At least he would be quieter in his reprimands. Ratchet’s yelling could get nasty at times.

But, as the platform began to rise again and the first hints of our capturer appeared, I changed my mind.

Optimus looked ready to kill someone, his eyes holding the promise of pain as fury had his entire body vibrating.

He didn’t even wait for the mechanism to fully rise, stepping off it and marching towards Bulkhead.

The contrast of him taking me from the former wrecker with such gentleness, while his form oozed rage, was as startling as day and night.

Optimus hissed something to Bulk in Cybertronian, actually hissing the words as though his jaw was too tight for anything else.

Bulkhead stumbled back, actually going a pale shade of green, but before he could defend himself, Optimus began to yell.

The air shook with the force of his voice, the baritone deeper and angrier as he raised his voice to say whatever it was to his team member.

Jack and Miko instantly backed up, hiding behind Bulkhead’s peds. If they hadn’t been there, I was sure the big guy would have been putting as much distance between himself and the Prime as he could.

I froze a moment too long, too surprised by who this person was to defend Bulkhead. But eventually, I got control of myself.

“Optimus!”

Both titans looked down to me, and I gulped at the intensity of my guardian’s scowl.

“Enough. I asked Bulkhead to bring me up here. This is my fault”

“He should have-”

“My. Fault.” I reiterated. “If you wanna be mad, yell at me.”

Optimus watched me for a moment. “Your turn will come.” And then he looked back to his muscle and continued his assault in Cybertronian.

Before, Bulkhead had looked ready to die of fright. But after my attempted intervention, he now took Optimus’ outburst with a neutral expression, only his clenched fists to prove he was feeling anything.

As quickly as Optimus had begun, he finished, turning and placing himself back on the platform, hitting the button to make us go down.

When we got there, Ratchet was waiting for us, worried.

“Is she-” But he did not get a chance to finish his question because Optimus marched right past him and went straight to his berth room, depositing me onto a bed that had been set up in his space for me.

“You need to apologize to Bulkhead.” I started immediately, crossing my arms and glowering at him.

“I will not apologize to-”

“What you did was wrong! It was my choice. I asked him to take me up there. The only person to be mad at is me.”

“You should have known better!” He actually raised his voice at me, tone much like a parent scolding a child as he began to pace before me. I wished I had the ability to do the same.

“And you should calm down!” I snapped back, raising my own voice. “Yes, I got tortured. Silas is dead. I am not. What I am, is going crazy. And you keeping me locked away is not helping me.”

“I am keeping you safe.” he tried to defend.

“Don’t you dare call this safe. This is a golden prison. If you weren’t so scared-”

“He was killing you!” Optimus roared, back facing me. “He was killing you and I could do nothing to stop him.”

Wait, what?

“He was killing you, and it was my fault.” My guardian spun, looking to me like I had answers to questions he didn’t even know. “I wish you had told him.” he whispered, his voice cracking as his eyes filled with fluid.

I raised my chin, staring him down. “I never would have, and I never will, just sit back and let any of you get hurt.” I swallowed, fighting to keep myself controlled as he rapidly lost himself to his emotions. “I don’t regret it, and I wouldn’t change what I did.”

Optimus raised his servos, looking down at them as he clenched them and then released them. Not too long ago, those servos had been stained with my blood. “I want to push you away to keep you safe. But, I can’t let you leave my sight. You will get hurt again.”

I smiled at him, something sad and soft. If only I wasn’t bound to be seated, and 20 feet tall.

“Optimus, getting hurt is part of life. I’m gonna trip and fall a million more times before my time is up. I’m gonna get papercuts, and I’m gonne burn myself on the stove. Yes, getting tortured or stepped on or… whatever hazards come with siding with you isn’t normal, but I’m not gonna leave you, or them, just to avoid a maybe. You are my guardian, them my family. You’re stuck with me.”

Optimus watched me, optics jumping between my eyes as he tried to make sense of all that was happening, all I was saying.

He moved forward slowly, allowing me to slip myself onto his servos and bringing me to his chest plates and holding me as though I was feather, one small move and I’d fly away.

And then he cried, and whispered in a language I did not understand. And I stayed, not because I could not go anywhere else, but because I wanted to.

I would always stay.

There was still so much I wanted to do with Optimus, so much to say to him and show him. I wasn’t ready to run away.

“You gotta apologize to Bulkhead.” I finally spoke up, long after Optimus had gone silent and his head had fallen to rest against the wall, his optics closed but not asleep.

Optimus grunted, something uncommitted and dismissive.

“I’m serious. You scared Miko and Jack and whatever you said was not deserved.”

“My orders were clear. He disobeyed.”

“Apologize or I’m never speaking to you again.”

He opened one optic, raising a brow as he looked down at me with a ‘You expect me to believe you’ look.

Yeah, that threat wouldn’t last 5 minutes. “Fine. But I seriously will sulk until you talk to him.”

Optimus sighed, actually sighed, like a tired parent, and then began to slowly stand, keeping me as still as possible. “I will speak to him once you are asleep.”

“Nuh uh. While I am awake so I can see you do it.”

“Very well, Little Star.” he replied.

“And go to Ratchet. You’ve spent too much time just watching me. He still needs to give you a check up after all M.E.C.H did to you.”

“We will see.” he replied, and I looked up just in time to see a smirk he tried to cover up.

This metal giant was going to be the death of me.

[writing-whump]

Contagious

Matt with Hector's flu + Seline for comfort. Emeto included.

"Stupid Hector and his stupid fucking stomach flu." Matthew was panting over the bowl. He had yet to actually throw up, but he had been miserable all day.

His stomach felt heavy the evening he came home already, but he thought nothing if it. The restless sleep he got after might have been more of a hint. But it was still just churning and annoying.

Morning after he felt groggy and tired, no matter what he did. There were glass shards in his eyes and he felt that slimy pricking of mild nausea that stopped him from any attempt at eating.

Yep, Hector's crazy stomach flu alright. Though it didn't seem to have such a fast progression as with him.

Matthew figured Hector must have been feeling lousy for the whole week but pushed through it. That's why when he allowed himself to rest, he crashed so hard, fever taking over.

Matt wasn't going to do the same mistake. While he could still focus, he did some homework in advance for the next week and switched his classes to online or excused himself entirely.

He was going to be reasonable about this. Hector's feverish shadow rampage, as contained as it was, freaked him out.

It wasn't until afternoon that it occurred to him what trouble he was in. There was no way he was letting Isaiah catch this. Fevers were especially hard on his heart and he took double the time than even Matthew to recover from them.

No, no, no, such fever-based flu was out of the question. If he explained it like that, Isaiah would probably fly over the second the message registered.

But if he pretended like he was fine, Isaiah would ignore him the whole day and maybe even stay out late doing whatever mysterious Executioner bussiness he and Rip got into these days.

That might actually work.

Therefore, Matt mentioned nothing, only inviting one more person onto his scheme.

Seline.

Who, naturally, agreed with his plan. And came home earlier with a bag full of supplies.

And was currently kneeling behind him in the bathroom, sighing a little at the nice weather behind the window.

Matthew spat into the water, panting for breath. His stomach was twisting and turning like on a rollercoaster but he had nothing to eat since last night's meager dinner. Wasn't helping much.

"You can go on a walk before sundown," Matthew commented dryly, following her gaze towards the warm orange glow in the window. "Might make it back before I get sick properly."

Seline rolled her eyes. "Shut up. I'm sorry for you missing out on a jog in this nice weather."

"So-" he burped, hurrying over the bowl as his throat jumped with the deep sound, but nothing but air came up, "funny. Who would believe you."

Seline reached over, brushing his sweaty red bangs from his forehead. "You have a fever, but it's not that high. Think you could go try sleep it off?"

"I'm gonna be sick."

"You have been saying that for the past 45 minutes."

Matthew lied his head on his elbow on top of the toilet seat, sniffling. His nose and eyes was running from the constant fruitless gagging though nothing came up. The bloated feeling got only worse, like he was being pumped with air although he did nothing but let it out.

Seline rubbed his back under the jersey he wore on top. He was shivery cold despite the warmth, which she noticed despite the sweating. "I'm just worried I won't be able to help you over if your fever gets worse. Wouldn't you rather pass out in bed?"

Matt would very much prefer passing out in his bed. But it was the room they shared with Isaiah and if Isaiah happened to come home earlier or notice something off and insisted on staying in that room filled with Matthew's frying-hot germs-

The idea of microscopic worms filling his stomach with acid and toxic fumes made his stomach heave. A mouthful of brown colored spit came up, making him shudder with extortion.

"You should drink something. At least you wouldn't sound like you are choking," Seline suggested, her hand resting on his shoulder.

Matthew rocked back onto his folded legs, spitting the nasty aftertaste out into the bowl. "So sorry I'm making such unpleasant sounds."

She frowned. "That's not what I mean, I'm trying to help-"

"Yeah, I know." He was snappy and impatient today. Probably more scared about the fever than he should have been. He wouldn't have been scared at all if Isaiah was here...

But Isaiah believed he could do things on his own. That's why he wasn't here and that's why Matt could do it.

The idea that he was being mean to the only person left that was willing to do this for him suddenly made him hiccups with emotion.

He was so pathetic today.

Another hiccup. His eyes were burning. He let them fall shut, some of the tears he hoped joined the mess gushing from his nose. The snot made its way to the back of his tongue, making him gag violently.

His back spasmed with the gag, whole stomach cramping so fiercely black dots danced in his vision. The next heave finally brought up something from the pit of his stomach, a meager gush of an energy drink and a few bites of the sandwich landing against the water.

"There you go," Seline said, sounding happier at the progress.

Matthew gagged at the smell, curling over himself. She flushed the water for him, mopping his face with toilet paper.

"That stings," he whined, settling his head on his arms again. It was throbbing from the ordeal.

Seline sighed, then let go of the toilet paper, wetting a towel instead that she brought to his face.

"I'm sorry- hic- I'm being a handful-"

"Oh for Christ's sake, Matt! I'm not upset." She dabbed at his chin and wiped his cheeks and nose, then planted a kiss into his hair. "You are allowed to be prickly, you are sick."

"My legs hurt," he complained, although they were just feeling numb. It seemed an impossible problem at this point.

Seline pushed back the flash of disbelief and surprise, something softer taking over. "Okay. Lean against the bathtub, hmm? Stretch your legs out." She coaxed him to sit up and lean to the side, taking the clean end of the towel to swab at the sweat on his neck.

The red-haired wolf collapsed against the cold tiles. It was actually quite a nice feeling. He wasn't cooking so much in his own skin.

"I'm so fed up with this. Fuck Hector and his flu, I should have just gone back to sleep..."

Seline laughed gently at that. It sounded like a string of small bells. "You know how it is. No good deed goes unpunished."

A shiver ran through him. The tiles felt too cold, freezing him now.

His stomach cramped and he wrapped his arms around it as if to hold the brewing organ in place. A burp snuck out of him, but he didn't fight it anymore.

"Are you still nervous...about your shadow?" Seline was chewing on her lip, sitting down behind him, knees drawn up.

"...I'll tell you if it gets bad. So you can leave."

"But you shouldn't...be able to hurt a witch, right?" Her tone was hesitating, quiet, but not accusatory. "It should...that I'm here, it should help, shouldn't it?"

Matthew supposed it should, but he had never been allowed a witch for comfort so he had no idea how that worked.

"I'm sorry, I-...I don't really know..." Her voice trailed off.

Matthew closed his eyes, cause they hurt too much. Thinking hurt too much, cause he was sure normally he would know what she meant. But something about her unsure tone still bothered him.

Seline didn't sound like that. She wasn't supposed to sound like that.

He reached for her hand, hugging it to his chest while his stomach gurgled with weird noises under his other one. "It's fine...if it's you. Just you."

The blond witch moved closer, snuggling against his back, her chin gently on his shoulder. She was careful not to put any weight on him, but let him feel her presence.

"I wonder what kind of song would work for a moment like this."

Matt couldn't tell if it was the contact with her or what was witchy about her. He just felt himself melting, the tension and coldness and restless nervousness fizzling out.

His stomach cramped and he breathed out sharply. She pressed herself tighter to him.

"Shhh, it's okay. You can sleep. I'll tell Dylan to come over to help me move you. We will turn it into a sibling stay-over and leave Rip and Isaiah in the other apartment. Problem solved."

Matthew didn't bother nodding, leaning his head back against her. She didn't wear a perfume and he still thought it was the most comforting scent he knew.

It was gonna be alright.

[piano-hoarder]

Mirror | Chapter 4

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Y/N confronts Bucky, and things go about as well as expected. The two realize they're more similar than they'd like to be.

TW: Anxiety, PTSD, trauma, panic attack, gun/knife mention, implied/referenced torture

Word Count: 1.9K

Chapter 4 - Confrontation

I still couldn’t sleep, but it wasn’t the nightmares this time.

          The nightmares were always a threat. But tonight I was thinking about Bucky. Not the Soldier—but Bucky.

          It had been a week since the mission. I was mostly recovered. My bone had reknit itself, the wound on my hip had closed. There would barely even be a scar. My concussion was also fully healed. No— I was fine physically; the serum made sure of that.

          But Bucky’s touch. The way he’d instinctively grabbed me, shielding me with his own body. The gentleness of his hands as he’d treated me. I could still feel his fingers on my skin, like vinegar and honey.

          Why?

          I was not grateful. I hated him for it. He wasn’t a friend; he never would be a friend. You’ve got to stay away or you’ll get hurt.

          When was the last time I’d been in my room after 9PM? I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. I’d crash on the couch in the common room some nights. The rest of them, I didn’t sleep at all.

          Sometimes I’d see him. At the other end of the hall, or just entering the elevator. The sightings didn’t scare me as much anymore—and that in itself frightened me. Our eyes would lock, and…something would pass between us. Like two animals meeting in a wood. I felt like a rabbit, observed by the wolf. He wasn’t hungry yet, but he would be. Wanderers, the two of us were. Ghosts.

          I entered the common room. Maybe I’d get some food. Or watch something. I didn’t know. But then I stopped only a few feet from the entrance.

          A dark figure sat slumped on the couch. Bucky. My stomach fell to the floor. Why is he here? I’d never seen him stop anywhere—other than the training room, but I’d avoided going there since the incident a few weeks ago. But I guess we’d have to end up in the same place eventually.

          I watched him carefully. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked up when I entered. As far as I could tell, he barely even breathed. Vibranium gleamed dully in the low light. I hadn’t moved, yet, either. He knows I’m here—would’ve heard me coming—won’t follow if I leave—but you’ll be safe if you leave— I could go to the roof, or… Or what? It wouldn’t change anything. He wouldn’t really be gone, just farther away. Still won’t sleep—nightmares won't leave—won’t get answers.

          I did have questions, didn’t I?

          Were they that important?

          My arms wrapped tightly around myself, I took a step forward. Nothing— so I took another. My breath trembled. He didn’t move.

          I swallowed. Ask—you want to know—he’ll be upset—shouldn’t pry—ask—run away—

“Why did you help me?”

          My words broke the air like the first splitting ice in spring.

          He looked up, but not at me. Just the wall.

          “I don’t know.”

          His reply hung like a bullet. I wondered if the shot would be fatal.

          “Why did you help me?” he asked.

          He didn’t have to say when. The lab. When else had I helped him?

          “I don’t know.”

          He nodded, looking down again. Maybe it would kill both of us.

          “You’re hurting,” he said softly.

          “What else is new?”

          “I’m sorry.”

          “Are you?” The question bit like a knife.

          “Yes.”

          There was too much behind that word. Yes. A river behind my dam. I had to be strong enough.

          “No,” I said, voice suddenly shaking. “No—you can’t be sorry. Do you even know what you’ve done? Do you even realize what I’m going through?”

          His jaw trembled slightly. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this—"

          “I was fine until you came back.” My tone rises with my volume. “Everything’s gone to hell because of you. I thought I could forget—but no, you had to come back and remind me of everything—” My voice cracked. Tears—miserable, horrid, traitorous tears—threaten to spill over. “You couldn’t be sorry, because if you were you’d—show me. If you were sorry you’d—you’d leave.” I sneer the final words, fists clenched, eyes narrow.

          “I’m sorry,” he said again, voice barely a whisper. He sounded empty. Lifeless. He wouldn’t even look at me. Couldn’t he give me the dignity of a reaction?

          “Prove it,” I spat.

           He finally looked up. In his eyes, I briefly saw a wet gleam mirror my own. “Do you think I don’t wish I could?” he asked painfully. “Do you think I want to avoid you? You run away every time I look at you.”

          “And whose fault is that?”

          He clenched his jaw, looking down. Why doesn’t his pain feel like a victory?

         “I never wanted to be the Soldier,” he said quietly. “That doesn’t change what I did. But I never wanted it."

         “Do you even—” I swallow. I had to know. “Do you even remember me?”

His voice was hollow. “Yes.”

         “How much?”

He met my eyes, and I flinched.

          “I remember everything,” he whispered.

          Everything.

          In the dark, he looked like a memory. My eyes flicked to his arm. A memory. His eyes, glinting behind long hair. A memory. My breaths were too fast. I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head frantically. “No—you-you can’t.”

          I saw too much, even with my eyes closed. Red lights. Angry eyes. Dark halls. Metal. Stone. Snow. I took a step back, hitting the doorframe. Gunshots—

          Everything was collapsing. I raised a hand, leaning against the doorframe, bent over as my stomach surged. He stood. His hand reached toward me. I stumbled back, raising my hands. “No—please—” I could hardly form the words.

          Needles and knives and bullets punctured my skin. I tasted acid behind my tongue. I’m going to vomit. My voice was miles away. Vision tunneling, sounds echoing. I didn’t have a voice. They took it… he took it… I tasted blood—felt an iron grip— my hand clawed its way to my throat, feeling for bruises that weren’t there.

          But he hadn’t moved. Just stood there. The two of us, frozen. Locked in cages, chained by fear. Chained to each other. Memories clashed with reality before me; his dark silhouette now menacing, now broken. Run—hide— My hands were still raised, but why? What could I do against the Winter Soldier?

“You took everything,” I whispered.

          “I didn’t want to.”

          “What do you want from me?”

          “Nothing.”

         His voice was soft. Too soft. Yet it lanced through me. He looked at me. Just looked.

         Nothing.

         “But—but…” I swallowed. I blinked back tears, realizing. That’s it. I couldn’t run; he’d just keep coming. But if I could give—yes. That I could do. Give something. You’re good at serving—good at fighting—work—you’re an asset—give him—show him—things will be better. Maybe it would keep him away. It had worked before…“Please. Surely there’s something—”

          The Soldier watched me with sad eyes. “I don’t want anything from you,” he said softly. “Please. I’m not him anymore. I didn’t have a choice—but…” his face contorted for a moment “but now…I d..do. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

          “Are you sure?” My voice was frail.

          “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he repeated quietly. “I swear—I’ll do everything I can.”

          Tears filled my eyes, then spilled over. I watched him, face contorted with pain. “I don’t believe you,” I whispered. “I’m sorry—but—but I can’t.”

          “I know,” he said, defeated.

          “I don’t want to hurt you, either” I sobbed. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. “It just—it just hurts…so much…”

          “I know…” He glanced away, jaw tight. His eyes glinted with tears. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

          Pain—oppressive, stifling—wound its way through me like a boa constrictor. I wrapped my arms around myself. Memories came, but slower. This time, I let myself remember.

—Dark halls. Cold bars. Voices in Russian. Orders, in constant succession. I pray they will end, that I’ll get a moment of peace. Comply exactly—act more quickly—exemplary performance might bring respite. But it never does.

—Stone floors. Red light. Gleaming vibranium. The Soldier, his gaze emotionless. Another order falls from his lips. “Vstavat’!” I force myself to my feet. Surely another round will kill me. I wish it would. But it never does.

—Horrid needles. Rising nausea. A vice about my head, throbbing and painful. My vision swims. Someone is screaming. My throat is raw. I pray they’ll stop—put me under—wipe me—make me forget.

But I never do.

          I remembered, and my dam broke. I wept—from exhaustion, agony, terror. Wishing—hating—desperate—I just want it all back.

          I could feel Bucky’s gaze. Couldn’t it be anyone else—?

          I wiped my nose on my sleeve. When had I ended up on the floor? I glanced up at him, then looked away just as quickly. He watched me with a mournful expression. I wanted to disappear. I can’t let him see me like this—

          I took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

          “No,” he whispered. He shook his head, looking determined. “Don’t. You’re… not doing anything…wrong.”

          “I—” I wiped my nose again. He was wrong. I hated the pity in his gaze. “I hurt you, too. Even if you don’t remember…”

          “Can’t be worse than what I’ve done.”

          I couldn’t argue.

          After a moment, he asked. “…Do you want to hurt me?”

          My mouth opened, then closed again. Hatred, old and stale and strong as vinegar, wormed its way in from my memories. Pain… so much pain…need revenge…wait—bide your time—make him pay— The thoughts of my ghost. Dead, but not buried. Then why had I helped him?

          What if he were anyone else, y/n?

          I remembered his eyes, in the lab only a fortnight past. Terrified. Haunted. A mirror. I’d helped him without knowing why. I wouldn’t wish my pain on my worst enemy.

          But he’s your worst enemy.

          “No,” I whispered.

          He nodded. Like he understood.

          And suddenly, he was only a man.

          I stood, staring into his eyes. Ancient and young, shadowed and gleaming. Like twin mirrors reflecting my own.

          He knows.

          Heavens above, but Bucky knew. The pain— raw and old and numb and cruel. It was all there, before me. In him.

          He was hurting, too.

          Because of me.

          “What do you want?” he asked.

          What do I want?

          So many things. Everything. It felt like a knife in my sternum, but I forced myself to look at him, to consider him fully. Just a man. I rubbed my scar and wondered if he was haunted, like I was, by his own ghost. A ghost that often felt more alive than I was.

          I didn’t want to hurt him. Not anymore. I just wanted him gone—so we could stop…all this. Barring that, I wanted to know. It wasn’t possible, but heavens if I didn’t want it. To know that he wasn’t my worst enemy. That he… that he wouldn’t hurt me.

          “Proof,” I whispered.

          Bucky looked down, elbows on his knees. He stared at his hand, fingers flexing, and I heard metal plates shift quietly. My eyes flicked to his shoulder. I briefly saw red. Then I blinked and the metal shifted to black and gold again.

          “I don’t know how,” he finally said.

          I didn’t answer. Neither do I.

          “Will you try?” I whispered. Begged.

          “Yes.”

          I couldn’t comprehend the conviction in his voice. But I nodded. I couldn’t believe him, but damn me if I didn’t want to.

          Maybe the bullet wouldn’t kill either of us.

[wheels-of-despair]

Sleepover, Emphasis on the Sleep Pairing: Mac (Warfare) x Not-So-Single-Mom!Reader Summary: Mac's exhausted and in need of a quiet place to recover, so you offer him sanctuary. In your bed. Get your minds out of the gutter! Contains: A PG sleepover, a history project, a lot of sleepy snuggles. Words: 3.5k

Your heart sinks when you feel Mac lift his wrist to check his watch.

"I should get going, babe," he says softly.

You sigh, not wanting to get up from your perfectly comfortable position. He's leaning back against the arm of your couch, his legs stretched out in front of him. You cling to his side, your arm across his stomach and leg wrapped around his and your head on his chest. A strong arm holds you tight, ensuring that you don't fall off the edge of the couch. You'd stay here forever if you could.

"You asleep?" he whispers.

"Yup," you answer, nuzzling your cheek into his chest. "It would be wrong to wake me and make me move."

Mac chuckles. His fingers trail along your side, light as feathers, until he hits that spot he accidentally discovered and your body spasms and flails. He twists to catch you, holding you to him in a tight hug so you don't fall off the couch.

"Rude," you grumble, your face smushed into his t-shirt. He chuckles and kisses your forehead.

"I've got a training thing for the next two weeks," he reminds you. "Can't take my phone, but I'll call you as soon as I get back."

"When are you getting back?"

"Next Friday. But then I get a three-day weekend, so… yay?"

You snort at a grown man's use of the word "yay".

"Three whole days off," you grin. "What will you do with all that free time?"

"After two weeks of trying to keep up with a bunch of fucking teenagers?" he scoffs. "Sleep."

"Very exciting," you tease.

"Will be for me," he chuckles. "If those little bastards keep it down."

Mac lives off-base, in a big house with a bunch of other jarheads. The owner is currently stationed elsewhere, and rents it out by the room. Mac is the oldest renter. His roommates call him Gramps. He did not appreciate your laughter when he shared this with you.

"You know…" you begin slowly, "it's a lot quieter here."

"…yeah?"

"Yeah," you repeat. "If you wanted to come here and recover, you could."

"…really?"

"Mhm," you hum, nuzzling your cheek into him. "I mean, my kid's gonna be here, so we're gonna have to maintain a PG rating. Not that you're gonna have the energy to do anything anyway. But you're welcome to come over and crash."

"You're sure?"

"Mhm," you confirm. "You could go home and let those little brats make fun of you for being a thousand… then lie awake with your head pounding to the beat of their shitty music… or you could come here and take a hot shower and let me feed you and crawl into clean sheets and let me spoon you to sleep."

Mac laughs, and you grin into his chest.

"No alarm, no shitty music, only one mouthy brat… and you could probably take him, if you had to."

"Are you saying I couldn't take my roommates?" he scoffs.

"Not at all, baby," you lie. Your old man is outnumbered; there are five of them, all under the age of 25.

He huffs out a breath of annoyance.

"I'll make you breakfast, too," you whisper, knowing how much he values the most important meal of the day. "Anything you want."

"Even if I sleep 'til noon?"

"Mhm," you hum, nuzzling into him.

"Alright, fine, you win," he sighs, like you really had to convince him. "Really gotta go, though."

"Okay," you whisper, finally getting off the couch. He rises with a groan and stretches dramatically. His shirt rides up in the process, and you feel your knees go weak at the flash of belly. He catches you staring, and he smirks.

"See something you like?"

"Maybe," you grin.

"Just maybe?"

You shrug, and he strikes fast, pulling you toward him in a hug.

"I'll call you when we get back, if it's at a decent hour."

"I don't care what time it is," you tell him, voice muffled because he's holding you to his chest so tightly. "I just wanna know you made it back alright."

"Okay," he whispers, rocking you gently from side to side. "See you in two weeks?"

"See you in two weeks," you confirm.

Mac releases his hold enough for a goodbye kiss, and you're grateful that it lasts a few seconds longer than it usually does. You need a little more of him to last until he returns. He pulls himself away and trudges to the door, slipping on his boots without tying them. He gives you smile when he reaches for the doorknob. How will you live without him for two whole weeks?

"Oh," you say, making him pause with the door half open. "Gramps? If you wear the long nightgown and kerchief, my kid will never stop laughing at you. Do yourself a favor and leave those at home."

"Will do," Mac cackles, slipping out the door.

You grinned like an idiot on Friday night when he texted you.

survived, barely Happy to hear it! :) you still want me? Of course I do. even if im tired and gross and no fun? Has that ever stopped me from wanting you before? ;) omw to make you pay for that

You jumped off of the couch when you heard his truck door close.

"If I ever act like this over a girl, please shoot me," Travis deadpans.

"Quiet, you."

"You're a grown-ass…" he gulps at your raised eyebrow and quickly reconsiders his phrasing. "Grown woman."

"And you're a pain in my butt," you respond, shoving your feet into shoes. "If you'd rather we have our reunion in here with you, that's okay. I'll let him in instead of meeting him outside, and you can watch us make out."

"Get out, please get out!" he begs. "For the love of God, please!"

You cackle and slip out the door, catching Mac coming up the stairs. You can see his already-low energy level dropping with each step, and when he reaches the top, he drops his bag and all but collapses into your arms.

"You okay?" you ask, lips brushing against his neck. He shudders.

"Mhm."

"Did you eat?"

"Mhm."

"Did you miss me?"

"Mhm."

"Are you ready for bed?"

"Can I take a shower first?" he asks, finally pulling back. His eyes are barely open.

"Of course you can," you smile, cupping the sides of his face. "In exchange for one kiss."

Mac leans down and gives you the kiss you've been craving every minute since your last. He looks a little more awake when he pulls away. Perhaps you kissed the life back into him.

"Okay, you're all paid up," you tease. "Let's get you into a hot shower."

Mac smiles and lets you lead him inside.

"Hey," Travis says, glancing over without pausing his game.

"Hey," Mac smiles back. "How's it going, bud?"

"Okay," Travis shrugs.

You look from Travis to Mac with amusement.

"Okay, guess you guys are all caught up," you grin, pulling Mac down the hallway. "Game o'clock is over in ten minutes," you call over your shoulder, hearing an agonized groan in response.

You get Mac into the shower and your kid into bed. When you turn off the lights and return to your room, you find Mac sitting on the edge of the bed in plaid boxers and a plain black t-shirt. His hair is still damp. His eyelids are heavy. He looks like he's about to drop.

You walk to him, standing between his knees, and he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close.

"Thanks," he mumbles into your stomach. "Thanks for letting me stay here."

"Happy to have you," you whisper, stroking your fingers through his hair. "Now lie down before you pass out."

He chuckles, but lets you go. He puts his hands on his knees and stands with a grunt. You pull back the covers to reveal the clean sheets you put on after work, and he sinks down into them with a moan. You cover him up, and he looks like the happiest guy who ever lived.

"A guy could get used to this," he slurs while you get into bed beside him. It's a little early for you, but there's nowhere else you'd rather be. He turns toward you and grins, his eyes barely open. A girl could get used to this, too.

"A guy better go to sleep before his brain overheats," you tease.

"Sorry I'm not fun tonight."

"I didn't invite you over to have fun, I invited you over to sleep," you remind him, reaching out to feel the stubble on the side of his face. You stroke his cheek gently, and his eyes flutter closed.

"G'night, babe," you whisper.

He murmurs something in response, which you interpret as "good night."

The next morning, you got up at a decent hour to make your kid breakfast and help him get started on his history project. When he got in the zone, and you were convinced he wouldn't immediately abandon the poster board for the television when you left the room, you went back to bed.

You paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame and watching Mac sleep. Affectionately, not creepily. (You hope.) He'd remained on his side, facing you, for most of the night. At some point, he'd rolled onto his back. Now, he's turned the other way.

A chill rolls through you, and you decide that it's time to snuggle up to the human furnace in your bed. You crawl under the covers behind him and get close, throwing an arm around his middle and pressing your cheek into his back. You leech off of his heat, feeling it warm your skin an inch at a time. If only you could have two of him; one for each side. You'd never get out of bed again. You fall back to sleep with a smile on your face.

You wake to him staring at you.

"Hi," you whisper, leaning back briefly to stretch. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than I ever have in my life," he whispers back.

You chuckle, and he pulls you to him. You both move around a little, and you end up with your head on his shoulder and your arms around each other. Your leg slots between his. His fingers dance along the strip of exposed skin on your back, between your shirt and pajamas. Yours trace imaginary patterns on his chest.

"What do you want to do today?" he asks.

"This," you whisper.

"Thank God," he groans. "I've never been so tired in my fucking life."

"Don't tell the other boarders this," you tease, "but breakfast in bed is an option."

"Do they all get this kind of wake-up?"

"Nope, the snuggles are just for you." You nuzzle your cheek into his chest, and he sighs happily. "It's the standard morning hand-job for the rest of 'em."

Mac laughs, and the bed shakes as you both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

"Thanks for letting me stay," he says quietly, after he recovers. "I needed this."

"I needed you," you smile, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him. "That was a very long two weeks."

"You have no fucking idea," he groans.

"You wanna tell me about it?" you ask.

"You really wanna hear it?"

"Only if you wanna tell it."

Mac considers it for a moment, eyeing you suspiciously. Eventually, he deems you worthy, and cracks a smile.

"Our story begins at the ass-crack of dawn…"

You finally make it out of bed at a little after two. From the looks of your living room, a tornado had hit it, assembled half of a poster about the Bill of Rights, and knocked your son unconscious. At least the tornado put him down on the couch instead of the porch, you suppose.

You and Mac quietly make a big brunch consisting of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and hash browns. Travis wanders in when he smells the bacon - his favorite - and hesitates in the doorway at the sight of Mac.

"Your hair is very punk rock," you tease with a wink from the stove. His hair is sticking up in every direction; he must've had a great nap.

"Guess me and Mac can start a band."

You look to him in surprise, and then to Mac... whose hair is also a little on the messy side. Travis has tolerated Mac's presence thus far, but not really made any effort to bond with him. Or even acknowledge him, beyond a hi or a bye. He simply allows Mac to exist in his periphery… until now, maybe?

"Let me be your manager," you suggest. "I'll have you guys rockin' Madison Square Garden in no time."

"Real punk, not that dancing boy-band crap," Travis clarifies. "We don't need no stinkin' Garden."

You look to Mac with a raised eyebrow, hoping he can keep this going.

"Basements only," Mac nods. "The stickier the floor, the better."

"Why's the floor sticky?" Travis asks, cocking his head to the side curiously. Mac falters, and you can see him scanning an internal database for an explanation.

"You think somewhere who can afford a cleaning crew is going to let a bunch of spiky-haired punks in to trash the joint?" Mac asks.

Travis looks to you and points to Mac. "He gets it." And then he sits at the table and waits patiently for his lunch.

You and Mac share a look, and you know that he's vibrating with excitement on the inside, too. This is as good as, or maybe even better than, a stamp of approval from your kid.

Nobody leaves the house all day, and honestly? It's great. The kid promptly returns to the poster when there are dishes to be done. Mac helps, standing at the sink with his hip touching yours so he can rinse after you wash. When the kitchen is clean, you notice his eyelids beginning to droop again.

"You wanna go back to bed?" you ask, snaking your arms around his neck.

"I don't wanna sleep the whole time," he whines. "I wanna hang out with you guys."

"Would you like to sleep through a movie, then?" you grin.

His eyes narrow, as if you haven't caught him nodding off on at least three separate movie nights. You lean in to kiss his cheek, and he forgets that he's supposed to pretend to be offended.

"Why don't you go rest your eyes while I help this kid finish his project," you suggest, "and then when it's done, we can all remain fully awake through a movie?"

A battle rages behind those dark and sleepy eyes of his, until he sighs in defeat.

"Go on, Gramps, you need to rest," you wink.

Mac growls and pulls you in for a kiss, nipping your bottom lip in retaliation before retreating to your bedroom.

The history project is finished by dinnertime. You'd give it 100%, but you're a tiny bit biased; you proofread the captions and helped with construction paper placement and glue removal from fingers.

"Does he always sleep this much?" Travis asks, watching you cut vegetables for dinner.

"No," you answer. "He's had a rough few weeks."

"Doing what?"

You try not to let the kid see how excited you are that he's taking an interest in the boyfriend.

"They went out in the woods with giant backpacks and did Military Stuff."

"Like what?"

"Why don't you ask him at dinner?"

"'Cause he's weird."

"So are you," you challenge.

"Am not," he scoffs.

"All my favorite people are weird," you remind him.

"You must really like him, huh?"

"What makes you say that?" you wonder.

"You never let a guy stay over before."

You sigh and put down the knife, giving your kid your full attention.

"Is it weird for you?"

"As a weirdo, I guess everything's weird for me," he smirks.

Your eyes narrow, and he decides to answer the question.

"Waylon says his mom has a new guy over every weekend, so…" he shrugs.

"This isn't like that, you know."

"I know," he says quickly. "Do you love him?"

Your heart stops.

"Yeah, I figured," Travis sighs, propping his elbow on the table and resting his face against his hand. His cheek squishes adorably. "Could be worse, I guess."

You have to laugh.

You finish making dinner, and then go to wake Mac.

Which you do by crawling on top of him, pinning his limbs beneath the covers and blowing a raspberry on the side of his neck.

He laughs and squirms beneath you, trying (not very hard) to escape, but he doesn't. You kiss and nip at his neck and his earlobe, enjoying the feel of his laughter against your lips and his struggle to escape. Finally, when you feel he's had enough, you sit up. He quickly extracts his arms from beneath the covers and rests his hands on your hips.

"What the hell was that?" he asks, grinning up at you.

"A wake-up call," you smirk. "You ready for dinner?"

"You're spoiling me," he whines. "At least make me do a hundred push-ups or run a few miles before you feed me again."

"You can run if you want," you say, looking out the rainy window. "But it's kinda soggy out there."

He wrinkles his nose.

"Or," you begin, lowering yourself back down onto him. His hands cup your ass and give a light squeeze. "You can come eat, and watch a movie, and rest those weary old bones of yours. You can get back to the grindstone next week, Gramps."

Mac growls and grabs you, flipping you over. Your back hits the mattress with a thump, and you grin up at him. He stares down at you menacingly for a moment, and then he drops down for a kiss. It leaves your head spinning. It always does.

You drag yourself out of bed before you reach the point of no return.

Travis works up the nerve to ask Mac about his training exercise over dinner. Mac shares the highlights, making it sound much bad-ass than the version he told you. Your kid doesn't show it, but you know he's impressed.

Mac fights for his life to stay awake through a moderately amusing family-friendly comedy, but he makes it. The boys are put to bed, and by the time you crawl between the sheets, Mac's already out. You lie awake for a while, definitely not wondering what it would be like to fall asleep next to him every night.

You wake up very warm, and it takes you a moment to realize why. Mac's wrapped himself around you from behind. You can feel his nose on your neck, his arm around your waist, his front pressed to your back. You smile and lean back into him. You're a goner. You're an absolute goner.

His nose nuzzles into your neck, telling you he's awake. He hits your weak spot, and you whimper. He chuckles, slow and a little wicked, and tightens his hold on you.

"Good morning," he whispers, his voice deep and rough.

"The best morning," you smile, reaching up to rub the sleep from your eyes.

He kisses that spot on your neck, and you quiver in his arms. You can feel the smug satisfaction rolling off of him. You have to stop this before it escalates. Because you want it to. You really want it to. But the last thing you need is to further traumatize your child.

You stretch, and his grip loosens. You use your newfound freedom to roll over and face him.

God, he's gorgeous. Even first thing in the morning, coming out of what may medically qualify as a coma.

"I love seeing you like this," he smiles, reaching out to smooth your hair.

Panic floods through you. You got up and fixed your hair and washed your face yesterday morning. You were still presentable by the time he finally rejoined the land of the living. You haven't had a chance to do that today. You probably look like roadkill.

"Right," you scoff. "Eyes puffy, hair a mess…"

"Yeah," he interrupts, tracing your brow. "Because nobody else gets to see you like this. I can't tell you how special that makes me feel."

There is something happening to your insides, and you do not care for it. Who gave this man permission to be so fucking sweet? Who decided that you could handle this?!

"You're gonna have to stop saying such nice things to me," you whisper, fighting back tears.

"Never," he breathes. He leans forward, and his lips brush yours, and the voices in your head fall silent.

Except for the one that says, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Mac whispers, coming back in for another kiss.

You don't even have time to panic about having said it out loud, before his tongue turns your brain off.

[steddieas-shegoes]

light of my life, pain in my ass

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'christmas' rated e cw: interrupted sex, mention of dom drop tags: established relationship, mishap with christmas lights, dom/sub, dom eddie, sub steve, hurt/comfort, they take care of each other

is this based on a semi-true event that did not happen to me but that i do bring up as often as i possibly can to the people it did happen to? maybe.

"You cannot be serious." Steve's voice went from high-pitched, breathy, whiny to serious.

Eddie wasn't panicking. He wasn't.

But he was getting there.

"Just. Stay still for a second." Eddie's usually steady fingers were shaking as he tried to untie the Christmas lights holding Steve's wrists to the bed.

Steve tried, he really did. But the lights were getting hotter, and one of his hands was going numb from how tight the wire was wrapped around his wrist.

The panic was setting in when Eddie let out a huff, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'need scissors.'

"You are not using scissors!" Steve tried to sit up in bed, but wasn't able to hold himself up and his head hit the headboard hard. “Dammit.”

He felt tears spring to his eyes.

It was too much at once.

Eddie cradled his face in his hands, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

Steve cried.

He felt so stupid.

“You’re not stupid. Look at me.” Eddie didn’t give him much of a choice, his fingers gripping his hair roughly. “It was my idea, wasn’t it? And I’m the one who tied them too tight. It’s not your fault.”

Eddie kissed him again before going back to his task.

“Eds?” Steve sniffled. “Probably should unplug them.”

Eddie froze.

“Shit.” He smacked his own forehead before getting up to unplug the Christmas lights from the wall socket by his bed. “Sorry.”

Steve had enough sense to recognize the way Eddie was dropping just as much, if not more, than he was.

“Eds, love. Take a deep breath.” Steve watched him breathe in, then out, closing his eyes for a moment. “That’s good. Another one.”

Steve felt the lights loosen around his right wrist, not all the way, but enough to slip a finger through and tug to loosen it more. Eddie worked quickly then, almost tearing through the electrical wire to get it off of him.

When he did, Steve immediately reached for Eddie, seeking comfort and to comfort at the same time.

But Eddie was already turning his attention to his other wrist, laser focus that Steve couldn’t possibly distract him from.

Steve had to let him have this.

Eddie crashed before, dom drop he'd called it, and the only way out of it was for him to be so focused on Steve's care he couldn't think about what happened until after they were both stable.

Eddie's focus paid off, the lights falling from his other wrist.

Steve wrapped Eddie in his arms, whispering against his hair as he shook with a sob he'd been holding off.

"I'm okay, you're okay. No one's hurt. We're fine. I love you so much."

He repeated it until his voice was hoarse, until Eddie had calmed into a stillness no one would believe he was capable of. Steve knew he could fall asleep like this if he stayed still long enough, almost hoped he would so he could recover before they talked about it.

But eventually, Eddie's breath hitched and he sat up slowly, blinking down at Steve.

"Hey, baby," Steve smiled, full of fondness, love, everything Eddie needed. "Back with me?"

"Yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?" Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth. "Let me see your wrists."

Steve showed him, let him see the faint red lines that would disappear by morning, let him kiss them.

He looked over at the Christmas lights coiled on the ground, glared at their frayed wires where he'd tugged on them a bit too hard.

"I'm so sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for. We're both okay. We learned a lesson." Steve shifted and then let out a groan as the vibrator in his ass clicked on. "Fuck, Eds, turn it off."

Eddie sat back and started feeling around the bed for the remote control, eyes going wide when he couldn't find it.

"Shit. Okay. Um." Eddie looked at the floor, then stood up and checked under their pile of clothes thrown on the floor. "It's gotta be close. Are you sitting on it?"

Steve's answering glare was enough for Eddie to shake his head and lay down on the floor to check under the bed.

"Just take it out of my ass!" Steve whisper-yelled.

Eddie moved quickly, carefully, not wanting to cause any actual pain.

Steve sighed with relief when the vibrator was buzzing on the sheets instead of inside him, his eyes closing as his head fell back against the pillows.

"The battery might die soon," Eddie supplied. "I hope."

Steve started laughing. He opened his eyes and shook his head. "This night went horribly wrong." His laughter got louder, more hysterical.

Laughter bubbled out of Eddie next.

"Not sure I can ever look at Christmas lights the same way," Steve finally gasped out between peals of laughter. "Why did we think this would be a good idea?"

"Because it's always a good idea tying you to the bed and keeping a vibrator in you?" Eddie smirked, dodging Steve's hand swatting at him playfully. "I was feeling festive."

"How about next time you feel festive we decorate cookies?"

"Can I lick frosting off your-"

"Eddie!"

"I'm just asking!"

Steve shook his head, but couldn't stop smiling into the kiss he planted on Eddie's lips.

"Maybe."

Eddie pumped his fist up and down. "It's not a no!"

A sudden knock on the door interrupted them.

"Just found this remote on the floor by your door, boys!" Wayne's voice called through the door. "I ain't askin' questions. Just remindin' you I'm stayin' down the hall and would rather not know what this thing is for."

Eddie and Steve stared at each other with wide eyes before bursting into more hysterical laughter.

"Tomorrow, when Wayne goes back home, you can tie me up the old fashioned way and maybe not lose the remote," Steve winked. "Might even let you fuck me."

"I'm honored."

"Merry Christmas, love."

"Merry Christmas, Stevie."

[verfound]

FIC: "A Port in the Storm" (MLB; Lukanette; LBSC Lukanette Month 2024)

@lovebugs-and-snakecharmers is doing a Lukanette Month for September 2024, and we all just kinda tossed some prompts in the disco to compile a list?  We ended up with 71 prompts, so I decided I’d roll some dice to pick a prompt, do a twenty minute (ish, bc we all know sometimes they run away from me) sprint, and try to get some short fics out this month?

Read on Ao3

08 September 2024

Prompt 03: Blackout

“Are you sure about this?” Luka asked as he followed Marinette up the stairs to her room.  She rolled her eyes as she opened the door and stepped aside, waiting for him to join her.

“Of course I’m sure,” she huffed.  “Besides, Maman and Papa already agreed.  It’s fine.”

“I’m sure Tom thought I’d be crashing on the couch when you asked,” he said, smiling slightly.  She scoffed as she shut the door behind her.

“The couch isn’t as comfy,” she said.  “I’m not having you wake up with a sore back when there’s plenty of room up here.  Besides, do you really think Juleka is sleeping on Rose’s couch?”

He paused as she took his pillow from him and tossed it up into her loft.  She turned back and smirked at him, an eyebrow lifting almost comically onto her forehead.  He shook his head, chuckling.

“…I wasn’t thinking about it at all until you said something,” he said.  He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, smiling as his hands slipped into the pockets of her shorts.  “How would she put it?  Ew.  Gross.”

Marinette started giggling, and it would have been perfect if thunder hadn’t crashed outside the minute he started to lean down for a kiss.  She jumped closer, and he was just starting to think maybe it actually was perfect after all when another boom rattled the building.  The lights flickered, and then they were plunged into darkness.

“…and that is why I insisted you crash here,” she sighed, slumping against him.  “The news said this storm’s only going to get worse.  No way was I leaving you on the river, in the middle of cyclone by yourself.  I wasn’t about to let my boyfriend drown.”

“I’m pretty handy in the water,” he chuckled.  “I know how to swim.”

“Juleka’s staying at Rose’s.  Our mothers are out of town.  Papa is staying with Grandpa Roland while he recovers from his surgery.  I have more than enough room here, and it’s safer to wait out the storm here than it would be on the Liberty,” she said.  He tipped her chin up and pecked his lips against hers.

“She’s seaworthy,” he insisted.  “I would have been fine, but I do appreciate the offer.  This is much better than the freezing bowels of the ship.  Even if we don’t have lights.”

“Shut up,” she laughed.  She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers tapping against his chest.  “Well, shoot.  There goes my plans for a movie night.  I wonder how long the power will be out for…I’m not even sleepy yet.”

“I brought my guitar,” he reminded her.  “I know you have candles – there’s no ban on open flames here.”

She snickered, and he smiled as he brushed his nose against her temple.

“We have camping lanterns, too,” she said.  He hummed.

“Candles are more romantic,” he said.  “We could head back downstairs.  Curl up on the couch.  I could sing you to sleep.”

“We could do that up here,” she said.  She stepped back and reached for his hands.  “You know my bed’s more comfortable than the couch.”

…he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to know that as well as he did.  At least not if Tom was asking.  But Tom was with Roland, and Marinette was looking up at him with dark eyes and perfectly kissable lips, and suddenly he wasn’t even sure he really wanted to bring his guitar up there, anyway.

He could think of a few better things he could be doing with his hands.

“Come on,” she said.  “I do have candles up there.  Sing me to sleep?  There’s nothing we can do about the power, anyway.”

Lightning flashed, illuminating her room – illuminating the warm smile on her lips, the one he was wanting to kiss away more and more with every passing moment.  He backed her up against the ladder, bending to do just that, and for a moment he was lost in a world that was nothing more than Marinette and soft and mine.  Her hands fisted in his hoodie, tugging him back towards her for a deeper kiss.  When she slipped up the ladder a moment later, he was quick to follow her.

She didn’t have to ask him twice.

[ofthemorningstars]

Gifts of the Sabbath (Part 1)

TerzOmega ~ Smut below the cut

2k words

Part 2

Ao3 Version

Terzo Leashes Omega

Omega gives Terzo roses. Terzo gives Omega... something else.

---

Today was going to be special. Omega could feel it. 

It was a Sunday, which was usually the worst day of the week for them. Now that Terzo was Papa, Terzo was responsible for leading mass and had a laundry list of duties hanging over his head. Sundays were the dark lord’s most unholy of days, after all. There was always something else that needed to be done. Terzo was often kept away into the late hours of the night, sometimes even until early morning. If they got to see each other at all on Sunday, it was usually just to crash in the same bed.

Omega, on the other hand, had Sundays off. All of the ghouls did. In a PR move by the ministry, it was decided that even the lowliest of Satan’s servants were allowed their day of rest. Omega wasn’t complaining about getting a break, but he did wish that he could spend it with Terzo. Their time apart was made lonelier by not having work as a distraction.

Today was different. Terzo was sick. Evidently, sick enough that the Imperator had allowed him to stay in his chambers to recover. This was a rare mercy indeed. Primo would be taking over that morning’s sermon, much to his delight, Omega was sure. 

While Omega wasn’t happy to see Terzo suffer, he was grateful for the opportunity to spend the entire day together. That was quite rare for the off-season, when they weren’t on tour. Plus, caring for Terzo while he was ill offered a taste of the domestic life they so badly craved. Omega was always eager to take advantage of any opportunity to dote on his husband.

Omega sent one last text to Terzo, alerting him that he was almost there. While the majority of the church would be at mass right now, he wanted to minimize the risk of being caught. Usually he would sneak out to be with Terzo after lights-out; venturing to the papal suite during the day was bold. He was feeling bold today, though. He would be arriving with flowers in hand. Roses, to be specific. Roses swiped from Primo’s prized rose garden.

Omega could only get through two knocks before the door swung open and he was quickly pulled inside. Before he knew what was happening, Terzo was upon him, hugging him tightly. His hair was slightly damp, his cheeks pink. Oh no, Omega thought. He really was sick. He must be feverish. Indeed, he did feel warm against him, but… What was that smell? Vanilla and sandalwood? Had he just gotten out of the bath? 

“I see you’ve been raiding my brother’s garden. Are those for me?” Terzo asked cheekily, pointing to the roses. Omega nodded, pleased with himself but confused about Terzo’s perky demeanor. “Ah, grazie, amore mio! You are too good to me. I will go get a vase for them.” Terzo leaned up to kiss Omega’s cheek before turning and leaving the room, presumably headed to the kitchenette. But were those… black stockings that he was wearing beneath his dressing gown?

When Terzo returned to put the roses on the sitting room table, Omega got a better look. He was indeed wearing stockings. His suspicions grew. 

“Terzo?” Omega asked warily. “I thought you were sick. Is everything alright?”

Terzo’s smile was coy. “Everything is more than alright, amore mio. We are about to have a very good day.” 

Terzo undid his robe, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath he wore a matching set of black lace panties and garters. It was Omega’s favorite set. Omega swallowed hard, beginning to realize the trouble he was in. Terzo took his hand and led him to sit on the sofa before straddling him, settling in comfortably. He began to run his hands along Omega’s pecs. Omega’s confusion wrestled with budding arousal.

“Terzo,” Omega cautioned quietly.  “She’s going to kill you if she finds out you’re not really ill. Hell, Primo might, too. You know he likes to stay in bed on Sundays.”

“It will be fine. You worry too much. It’s not like I do this often.” Terzo began kissing Omega’s neck, undoing the buttons on his shirt. “Today is just a special occasion.”

“Oh? Special how?” Omega raised an eyebrow. Terzo didn’t answer. “You know, I was worried about you. I came over here with the intention of taking care of you.” Omega’s voice was soft. He ran his claws through Terzo’s hair. 

Terzo looked up. “Oh, you will be taking care of me plenty,” he said, words laden with promise. 

Omega’s heart skipped a beat, his mouth going dry. Terzo had finally gotten his shirt undone and was lavishing Omega’s chest with attention. Wasting no time, Terzo went straight for a nipple. Omega sucked in a breath as he felt himself beginning to stir already. He wanted to press the issue of Terzo’s flippant behavior, but his mind went blank when Terzo began to grind on him. Omega was far too easy when it came to Terzo, and Terzo knew it. Terzo always knew exactly which buttons to push to make him come undone.

“Terzo–” Omega tried again, but he was cut off by Terzo’s mouth descending on his. When Omega kissed back, Terzo’s hands began to explore Omega’s torso, sensually caressing, teasing. They wandered down until they reached the waistband of his pants. Terzo skated over Omega’s crotch with the lightest touch, running his fingers down Omega’s inner thighs. When Terzo pulled away from Omega’s mouth, Omega tried to follow. Terzo reached for something towards the other end of the couch, coming back with a long black box. Omega didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before now.

“I have a gift for you, amore,” Terzo purred, eyes full of mischief. He presented the box to Omega. “Open it.”

Omega complied, eyebrows shooting up as he removed the lid. He pulled the contents out slowly: a powder pink leather collar with a matching leash. The hardware was gold, the inside lined with soft suede. Omega huffed out a laugh, trying to ignore just how uncomfortable his pants were becoming. 

“What, you want me to take you out for a walk?” Omega snarked, but his cheeks were heating up. “Is that why today is special?”

Terzo’s smile grew wider. “Oh no, mio caro, this is not for me,” Terzo replied, voice syrupy. He ran a hand up Omega’s bicep and over his shoulder, coming to rest at the nape of his neck. “Not today, anyway,” he added, relishing the look in Omega’s eyes.

Omega was dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am,” Terzo replied, unzipping Omega’s pants and slipping his hand inside, cupping him through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. Omega winced; he had the sinking feeling that he was about to fight a losing battle with himself. 

“You really want me to wear that? Me??” Omega’s voice cracked. “You– You couldn’t have at least gotten a different color?” Terzo’s started to rub him over his underwear. His resolve was crumbling unusually fast.

“What? It’s cute,” Terzo said simply, placing a lingering kiss on Omega’s cheek. “I know you are excited to try it. Your body is giving you away.” Terzo ran his fingers over a wet spot on Omega’s underwear, the fabric sticking to Omega’s skin with precum. Omega shuddered, eyes closing. He couldn’t deny that his thoughts were racing, head swimming with possibilities. Terzo squeezed him firmly and Omega squeaked. His eyes shot open.

“A– Are you sure you don’t just want to eat brunch or something? You know, since we’re together during the daytime and you’re not really sick,” Omega stammered in an unusually high pitch, trying to find any flimsy excuse to get out of this. To deny the truth. Deep down, the idea was very enticing. 

“Mm. I had something else in mind that I wanted to eat.” Terzo ran his tongue up Omega’s neck in one slow lick. Omega let out a shuddering breath, fidgeting in his seat. Terzo grabbed the collar and held it up to Omega’s neck as if sizing it. He whispered in Omega’s ear, “May I?” He graced his earlobe with a nip while he was there.

Omega shivered. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He took a moment, then nodded, wondering with dread and excitement what he had just agreed to.

Terzo wrapped the collar around Omega’s neck, fastening it at the back. The fit was snug, but not tight. The soft lining was surprisingly comfortable on his skin. Omega could feel himself begin to throb gently at the pressure around his throat. Terzo attached the leash to Omega’s collar and took the other end firmly in his hand. Terzo slid from Omega’s lap to kneel at his feet, encouraging him to spread his legs. He wiggled Omega’s pants and underwear down his hips just enough to give him access. 

Once freed, Terzo took Omega’s cock in hand and gave him a few good pumps. Omega’s head fell back on the couch. He felt the slight tug of the short leash at the movement; it served as a reminder of what he had signed up for. Terzo gave him a long lick, kissing the tip before sinking Omega’s length down his throat. He began to bob rhythmically. Omega squirmed, gasping and gripping the sofa cushions. He was already too over-excited. He wondered with a grimace if he was going to ruin whatever Terzo had in mind by finishing too quickly. It was looking more and more like a real possibility by the second. Terzo reached up to cup his balls, stroking. Omega tensed, trying his best to fight off the inevitable.

Terzo opened his eyes, looking up to make eye contact with Omega. Heat flooded through Omega’s body as Terzo released him just to take another leisurely lick up his shaft, holding his gaze while he swirled his tongue around the head. Omega whined; Terzo was determined to cut their little game short, it seemed. Terzo took Omega back into his mouth and started working him even harder, his hands stroking Omega’s inner thighs.

“Please,” Omega said softly, already hanging on by a thread and too close to turn back. Terzo picked up the pace and began to moan around him, letting him feel the vibration. Yes, this was it, just a few seconds more, please–

Omega came into Terzo’s mouth with a low groan, his whole body tensing before going limp. As he caught his breath, he wondered what exactly the point of the leash had been, if Terzo wasn’t going to use it–

And then he was being yanked down by the collar to Terzo’s level. Before he could process what was happening, Terzo grabbed the back of his head and pried his mouth open with his tongue, flooding Omega’s mouth with his own cum. Omega spluttered and coughed in shock, not having had time to prepare for the unexpected intrusion. He loved it when he tasted himself on Terzo’s lips, but he was going to need a minute. As he sat there catching his breath, all he could focus on was how intensely turned on he was even after release. How badly he wanted more.

Terzo might actually kill him this time.

Terzo gave Omega a few minutes to recover. He returned to the sofa with Omega, stroking his hair and speaking soft praises to him. When he was sure he could handle it, Omega sat forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs.

“Are you alright, mio caro?” Terzo asked, placing a kiss to his temple.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to keep going?” Terzo’s question was earnest. Omega was free to say no at any point.

Omega paused for a moment before answering. “Yes.”

Terzo’s smile was like sunshine as he rose to his feet. He reached out and ran his fingers through Omega’s hair, saying sweetly, “That’s my good ghoul.”

Omega’s jaw went slack at the praise. His entire body felt as if it would catch fire. 

He really was in trouble. 

Omega stood on unsteady feet and was directed to strip. He did as he was told. Terzo then gently guided him onto all fours. He thought he should feel humiliated, but all he felt was a jagged thrill tearing through his core. He allowed Terzo to lead him into the bedroom, his tail practically tucked between his legs. He got more and more excited with each tug of the leash.

[aj-archives]

Reader and JJ are in a relationship despite her father telling her to stay away from him. One day she gets a call from Sarah or Kiara that he’s in the hospital- his dad beat him within an inch of his life. Luckily her dad is somewhere on the mainland for the next two weeks so she can sneak out. She doesn’t leave his bedside for anything but using the bathroom until he can leave the hospital. Maybe he’s in surgery when she gets there, and/or has to have emergency surgery, maybe his heart stops a few times from like internal bleeding or something.

by your side - jj maybank

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warning: a tiny angst

word count: 0.4k

author's notes: i'm back! since kinktober i took a little break just to organize some personal/work related things but i'm back! this is one of my late request that i didn't posted on october bc of the kinktober works but now it can see the light of the day! hope yall like this! love ya :)

masterlist  | main masterlist | join the taglist |

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The hospital room was eerily silent, so quiet you could've heard a pin drop. All you could hear was the steady beeping of the machines scattered around JJ's room. JJ looked like he'd been in a fight with a truck. The amount of bruises on his face and body was seriously scary. I took a seat in a chair right next to JJ's bed, gripping his hand like my entire world depended on it.

I’ve been glued to his side since I got the call from Sarah a day ago. I rushed to the hospital immediately, my heart was heavy with fear. I knew how shitty Luke Maybank was, but I would never imagine he could do something like this. When I saw JJ I collapsed into Kie’s arms, it was painful to see him like this.

I guess having a rough relationship with our father was like an invisible connection between me and JJ. Right after my dad found out about my relationship with JJ, I had been “forbidden” to see him, no matter how much I argued, my dad insisted on making the same stupid comments about how low-class, worthless, and dirty pogues are.

I couldn’t care less about his opinion, JJ and the rest of the pogues have been my family more than my actual family, and that’s why no matter what happened, I’m not going anywhere.

The door to the room swung open, the doctor entered with Pope, John B, Sarah, and Kie right behind him.

“You must be the persistent girlfriend, huh?.” He said picking J’s chart. “Well, he suffered severe internal bleeding, and his heart stopped a few times during the procedure. We managed to stabilize him, but, he'll need time to recover.” 

I nodded feeling the tears welled up in my eyes. Kie reached your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“We will keep him under our watch until he’s better.” He added heading towards the door “He will be fine, kids.”

“Thank you,” I whispered sobbing.

“C’mon J, hang in there.” John B said with his eyes watering as well.

I sank my face into my hands; my mind was frantic, I kept reminding myself to take deep breaths to control my anxiety. 

I step out of the bedroom and head to the bathroom, I splash water on my face trying to stop the crying, I suddenly realize I haven’t left JJ’s bedroom since yesterday, Sarah and Kie were alternating bringing you food and water but besides that, you just sat there. 

When I walked back into the bedroom, I saw Pope, John B, Sarah, and Kie, all crashed out on the couch. I took my seat again, holding JJ's hand, as I got comfortable in the chair, I felt JJ’s hand twitch. I snapped my head in his direction, and there he was, slowly fluttering his eyes open.

“You're here,” he said with a weak smile crossing his lips.

My eyes welled up with tears, but I couldn't hide my own relieved grin as I leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Of course, I am," I murmured.

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✧˚ . taglist ˚✧ (join here): @loverofmarsss | @jjmaybankisbae

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