#other times I'm just exhausted by half of y'all

[korkiekenobiconfirmed]

Things I Better Not See Post-Teen Wolf Movie Or Someone's Getting Severely Hurt

• Hikari hate (esp from the aggressive thiam shippers, I've got my eyes on y'all)

• Eli being shipped with any of the main cast. I haven't seen it yet but I wouldn't put it past you weirdos and he's fifteen

• Parrish slander. Derek's death was his own choice, his own sacrifice to make, and it wasn't Parrish's fault. (if you want to slander Parrish for other things, like dating a teenager back in S4/5, that's fine lol)

• Colton Haynes stanning. Idc if you like Jackson, but Colton has done black and brown face multiple times and never apologized for it so... kick that piece of shit to the curb.

• Shitting on Sprayberry for what he said about thiam. Ik he spoke about how he doesn't think their dynamic was romantic but that doesn't make him homophobic, and as the literal actor portraying this character, he's entitled to his own opinions on Liam. Don't be annoying and stay in your lane.

•DOB fans starting fights bc they're bitter they didn't get their favorite white boy back. I would've liked to see Stiles and Scott back together for a few hours but it didn't happen and that's okay, no need to take out your frustrations on other fans

[celestial-grls]

Ciao Amore - Emily Engstler x fem!reader

summary: You and Emily are on vacation in Italy together. You have a small argument on your first night there, angst ensues... word count: 2.0k a/n: I definetely wanna write a part 2 to this w/ smut...y'all lmk

This could've been the perfect ending to your and Emily's first night in Italy. Except both of you let the exhaustion from traveling and jet lag get to you, which resulted in a couple's quarrel. 

It wouldn't be fair to say you started it—except maybe that's what Emily would've believed when you gave her the wrong directions to the hotel and delayed your check-in time by a whole hour. 

At first, Emily tried to keep her composure as she asked you for confirmation on which way to turn. She scrubbed her right hand down her face and sighed, "Baby, I need you to tell me if I gotta turn left here or up ahead." 

The sun is blinding, and the tiny sun visor in the mini Cooper you guys decided to rent is barely doing anything to block it out. You're hopelessly trying to translate the directions from Italian to English from your phone. Still, you're getting less and less service the farther into the drive you guys get. Since it's quiet, you each thought the Tuscan countryside was the best option for your honeymoon. No one would recognize Emily here, and if they did, they'd be more lowkey than fans elsewhere could be. But with half a tank of gas gone, sweat collecting on the back of your neck, and a headache forming behind your eyes, your patience is wearing thin, too. 

"Umm…I think it's the next left. Yeah, the one up ahead." There isn't anything in your tone that leads Emily to believe you. 

"Are you sure? Because if not, we can't make a U-turn here." 

"Yeah, Em. That's what it says in the directions." 

As it turned out, you guys were supposed to take the first left, not the second, which led you through a tiny town with the narrowest roads you've ever seen. Emily had to drive as slowly as possible, and you tried to warn her about some of the Vespas parked on the side street. 

"Em! You almost scraped that Vespa!" You yelled in exasperation after she avoided the Vespa by half an inch. 

"Baby, relax. I know what I'm doing," she huffs before adding, "unlike some people." 

You know she's just as eager to get to your hotel as you are, so you let the sass slide this time. "Okay. I wanna see you try to read these directions in Italian. Maybe I should drive instead." 

Emily rolls her eyes and scoffs as she drives out of the little town and into wider streets. The directions show that you guys are back where you're supposed to be. "Not if we wanna make it to the hotel in one piece." 

Scrunching your brow, you ask her, "What's that supposed to mean?" You shift closer to your door, taking your elbow off the center console. 

Emily immediately notices your change in body language. She places her hand on your knee, trying to make amends. She glances over at you but stands by what she said. "C'mon, baby. Don't be ridiculous." 

You scoff and start rubbing at your temples. "You know I can drive! It's insulting you don't think I can!" 

Ever since the two of you started dating, it was evident that you would have to navigate each other's stubbornness. For most of your relationship, Emily was the driver, and you were in the passenger seat. You glanced down at the directions on your phone and saw it'd be about another five miles before you reached your hotel. 

"I never said you couldn't drive! You know what I meant, Y/N," Emily's grip tightens against the wheel as you look out the window, not meeting her gaze. 

You annoyedly sniffle and tell her, "Just go straight for another five miles." 

Both of you knew it would be the longest five miles you've ever had to drive together. 

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

When you both arrived at the hotel, you could finally breathe outside the Mini Cooper's confines. The sun was starting to go down as you guys checked in, and neither of you said a word to each other. As you began to take the dress you would wear out of your suitcase, you couldn't stop angrily unzipping the sides. Emily was stomping around the room in search of her slippers. When you kicked them in front of her, she pouted at you and flopped on the bed. 

You both knew you could behave like little kids when you got into little spats. It was a relief to finally be out of the heat, stop the stressful shuffling that comes with traveling, and finally get to spend time alone together. 

Emily sunk into the bed, shutting her eyes and harshly rubbing at them. When she opened them and turned onto her side, she watched you slide open the balcony door to lean against the railing, eyes trailing the Italian countryside lit up at night. She watched you tie your robe tighter around yourself, knowing you were probably about to step into the shower, 

She thought about opening the door and apologizing, but she figured you each needed some moments alone. She felt so sullen, watching you from behind the door. This was supposed to be a time you could spend together, finally away from the craziness and pressure back home. 

The hotel was beautiful. Outside of the balcony, it looked like the streets were lit up with millions of tiny string lights, and through the cracked door, you could hear the chatter of other couples having an early dinner. Emily sank further into the plush hotel bed before grabbing her book and busying herself. 

You open the door and come back inside, barely glancing at Emily. Emily peers over the top of the book and watches you disappear behind the bathroom door. 

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

You came out of the bathroom with damp hair and your face scrubbed clean of the makeup you had on before. Emily was still reading on the bed when you decided to sit next to her. She closed her book, marking the page before meeting your gaze. 

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear, getting water drips on Emily's arm. You look down at your robe tie before saying, "We should probably get dinner." 

Emily sits in bed, unsure whether she's in your good graces again. She tests the waters by tucking your other strand behind your ear. When you let her, she feels relieved. "Sure, baby. Let's get dinner." 

You each get ready silently, hanging onto a tightness in your chest. It's stupid to argue the way you do because neither of you likes to admit when you're wrong. The only sounds from your hotel room are from the whir of you blow-drying your hair and Emily hanging up some shirts before choosing the one she'll wear tonight. Even if you are a little upset with her, you hope she wears the blue striped shirt that you love so much on her. 

Emily's still watching you from her place on the bed. She's considering how and at what point she should apologize to you tonight. Even if it is true that you're not a stellar driver, she shouldn't have made a comment when both of you were clearly grouchy and eager to just get to the hotel. 

It's when she sees you twist your hair up into a clip and slip on a slinky black dress that you've had forever that she feels wholly disarmed and forgets why you guys ever argue in the first place. You're leaning over the bathroom sink to dab the lipstick on and swiping what's left on your fingers on your cheeks, puckering and pouting in the mirror, completely unaware of the way Emily's looking at you. She stands there for a few seconds before clearing her throat and grabbing her shoes. When you leave the bathroom, she looks down shyly like a kid in trouble and mumbles, "Ready to go?" 

You nod, remaining neutral outside, but seeing Emily's guilty face tugs at your heart. "Let me grab my shoes." 

"I-uh. I took them out already. They're by the nightstand." She nervously adjusts the rings on her fingers as she tells you this. You brought your favorite black heels on vacation and wear them for most of the date nights you guys have.

This little gesture that she does really makes you feel guilty about giving her the cold shoulder, so you stand in front of her, bringing your hand up to rest against her face, and tell her, "Thanks, baby." 

Emily stills and looks down at you, eyes focusing on the lip color you're wearing and wondering when it'll be time to kiss you. She'd never dream of asking if you're still mad at her because she knows better than that, and chooses to wait it out and see. When you're done slipping on your heels, she puts her hand on the small of your back as you exit the hotel and have dinner at one of the restaurants down the street. 

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

It's hard to stay mad at each other in a restaurant this romantic. Your waiter poured each of you a glass of red wine and left the bottle for you both to split over the course of dinner. Emily's nervously twisting her rings while you look directly at her with your chin propped on the palms of your hand. She's focused on her plate of pasta while you sip from your glass of wine. She wipes the napkin at the corner of her mouth before clearing her throat and looking at you. 

Right now, she could really forget she's in Italy at all. All she could see was the gravity of your long eyelashes blinking back at her, your hand wrapped around the wine glass, and the corners of your mouth turned down into a slight frown. 

"Y/N? I wanted to say I'm sorry, baby." She laughs, reaching across the table to grab your hand. "I was–I shouldn't have said what I did back there in the car." 

You look at her downturned brown eyes, the blue shirt you love so much, and how it bounces off the soft light of the restaurant. You've been thinking about kissing her since she set your shoes out for you, desperately restraining yourself against kissing her stupid and forgetting you were ever angry with each other. 

You sigh, "Are we idiots, Em?" 

Emily laughs, "We must be. We're like little kids." She punctuates the tenderness of the admission by kissing the back of your hand. 

You shrug, "I'm not the best driver, I know." 

Emily doesn't say anything at first, knowing it'd only get her in more trouble to agree with that statement. "Aw baby, you know I can't read Italian. I think you were the best person for the job." 

You playfully roll your eyes, "You don't have to grovel, y'know? You're already in my good graces again." 

Emily reaches across the table to hold the side of your head, gently pressing her lips to yours. You've been thinking about her hands in your hair since she tucked your hair behind your ear earlier in the hotel room. When you pull apart, all you can taste is the wine you've both been drinking, pausing to see how it's turned the corners of Emily's mouth a delicious shade of red. Observing the color makes you kiss her back more intensely, running a finger across her jawline. 

She leans back in her chair, spreading her legs a bit before slowly sipping from her wine glass. "Y'look pretty t'night, ma." 

She's flirting with you like you guys haven't been dating for some time now. You narrow your eyes at her, "Yeah?" 

She gives you one long look, sweeping her eyes from top to bottom. "Yeah." 

You consider what your next move should be. Your instincts tell you to ask your lover what she's thinking. Her expression is relieved, cheeks flushed from the wine you've both had. Out of habit, you actually do, softly whispering, "What are you thinking, Em?" 

She looked to the side before smirking, "I think we should go back to the room so I can show you how sorry I am."

[as-is-above-so-below]

Cardigan - John Price x F!Teacher!Reader

Part 2: Midnight Rain

summary: you get yourself in a pickle a/n: hi! I return again! I'm sorry it's short, but I'm trying a new method of posting. Instead of aiming for a specific word count (which leads to me getting writer's block and not posting ANYTHING), I write until I'm satisfied with what I'm trying to achieve. Hopefully, I've achieved that goal, and y'all like it :) Blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

You drummed your fingers against the notebook in your lap and gnawed on the top of your pen. It was late, even by your standards; the sun had long since set, and dinner eaten hours ago. But you were up, sitting in the dark in your living room, heavy rain pelting your old windows. You were trying to pull together a new lesson plan for the following day. A few curious students had started asking questions about the modern military. Like, key differences between military strategies used in the time they were studying and today. And, of course, yet again, you made promises that you were struggling to keep. And you always keep your promises to your students.

Fuck.

The internet wasn’t helping at all. You didn’t study military strategy in any of your courses. Was that even a thing?

The last thing you wanted to do was call him. You were so confident that you could solve your problem yourself, at nine o’clock. Now, it was past midnight, and you were absolutely desperate.

Fuck.

Before your tired brain can flood with guilt and change its mind, you grab your phone from your nightstand and tap into your recent calls log. Your stomach churned, anxiety bubbling up with every trill. God, it’s so fucking late to be calling. It felt like you were split in two. One half of you was praying that his phone was on silent (you know it’s not) or he’ll sleep through the ringing (he won’t), while the other–the miserable, exhausted half–needed him to pick up.

The latter won out.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

John’s deep, sleepy voice made you feel guilty and incredibly happy that you’d woken him up. Soft and grumbly, rolling in his chest; it made you feel soft and warm inside…

Not the point of the call.

“Hi, John. I’m completely fine, I just…” You took a deep breath, the heel of your free hand pressed into one of your dry, worn-out eyes. “I know you’re this big important captain, and you have work in the morning, but I’m in a bit of a pickle and need a massive favor.”

There was a slight rustling on the other end like he had turned slightly to check the nearby time. “It’s one o’clock in the morning, love,” he mumbled.

You felt even worse. “I know, I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me,” you begged, running a hand over the top of your head. “One of my kids asked about the military. It sparked a whole discussion in class, and I may have overstated my knowledge. I barely know anything about it, and my brain is turning to mush. I’m so tired I wanna cry, and-”

He quickly cut off your rambling. “Woah, hey. Slow down there. What’s going on?” he asked, suddenly sounding much more awake. 

That brought you pause. You honestly hadn’t thought what you would ask if John actually answered the phone through. It was one o’clock in the morning, which John had correctly pointed out, and your brain wasn’t operating at full capacity. 

“I was…wondering if you could give me a lesson. Because I’m super tired, and I like to hear you talk.”

“…You do?”

“Yeah. I’ve learned a lot from you just…talking to me? But I’m a history teacher. I’m an expert on wars, not war.”

There was some shuffling on the phone. On the other line, John was leaning over the edge of his bed, searching blindly for his little pocket planner in the pile of clothes on the floor. The rustling stopped when he placed the device on his pillow, rifling through the calendar. He sniffed and was quiet for a moment, while you nibbled anxiously at your pen. Again.

The silence finally broke with a tired sniffle from John. “I can do you better. Why don’t I come to your classes tomorrow?” he asked.

You froze, pen still between your teeth. John? Coming to your school? Spending the day with your students? That would be the equivalent of introducing your boyfriend to your children. 

“…Really?”

“Sure.”

Could you even call him your boyfriend? You’d been on a few dates, sure, over the last…two months? No, it was closer to three. Had it been that long already? You did some quick math in your head. You’d gone on about one date a week, with a few canceled due to last-minute commitments. Still, about one date a week, over three months…

Holy shit.

“John, I’m sure you’re busy. I couldn’t-”

“Not at all,” he hummed, cutting you off. “Besides, it would take me ‘til class tomorrow to give you a good enough rundown, and the boss loves shite like this.”

“I thought you were the boss?”

You could practically hear a small smile tugging at John’s lips. The expression was a familiar one. The corner of his mouth quirked up, shifting his beard and creating happy wrinkles near his eyes. His nose would scrunch up a bit, too, especially if you were out in cold weather. 

“Everybody has a boss, sweetness. Myself included.”

Christ. Not the pet names. And especially not in the tired, gravelly tone his voice was currently in. John Price was going to be the death of you, even in his unfocused state.

You unfolded your legs from underneath you and moved your notebook onto the coffee table. Your resolve was fading, and you couldn’t be bothered to argue. While you did feel bad about dragging John to your school to fix the problem you created, you weren’t sure you had any other option. Accept defeat? To a group of teenagers? Absolutely not. You’d never live it down. You sighed, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. “If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

A soft smile crossed your face. “Is this just a ploy to meet my kids?”

“Maybe.”

Your sleepy giggles were like music to John’s ears. The sound alone was worth the favor. As if he wouldn’t have done it anyway, just to ease your stress. He would take any and every opportunity to make your day easier or make you happy. What he wouldn’t give to hear that laugh in person, laying beside you in your bed–

No. John’s a good man. A gentleman, he would say. A man who was perfectly capable of not acting on his urges and thoughts. At least, not in person. However, in the privacy of his own home? That was a different story.

“Thank you so much, John.”

Right. You’re still on the phone. He heard a soft click on your end of the call.

“That’d better be you closing your laptop, I’m hearing.”

“It is.”

“Good girl.” You blushed furiously. Fuck. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

taglist: @novausstuff, @cutiecusp, @ittosbigfatmantitties, @helpimhyperfixating, @hihhasotherfixations, @dugiioh, @glitterypirateduck, @cringeycookies, @lethalchiralium

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[adventuringblind]

Hi ! Idk if im doing this right, its my first time sending a request…

Anyways, I loved ur autistic!reader x Oscar fic and i was just wondering if you could write more about them :)

I would love to read something about how she would interact with the other drivers / how they would interact with her!

If you don’t want to write that then you don’t have too! I love your writing and would love to read anything you post <3

Have a nice day, bye 😊

Grid Encounters

Oscar piastri x Autistic!reader

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes, and with the amount of people who want to see Oscar and his Autistic partner, I will potentially make this a series:). Also, I'm still open for requests

Summary: Shenanigans on the grid take place when Oscar and his girlfriend are there

Warnings: idk I don't think there is

Notes: Trying a new format, let me know what y'all think!

Masterlist

It didn't take long for some of the drivers to catch on

Others were completely oblivious

Oscar and Lando both found it incredibly entertaining when she struggled to filter her thoughts

Her opinions and comments about things making them laugh hysterically

When someone told a joke she didn’t understand and gave them a blank stare, the reaction to them was funnier then the joke.

Oscar always swooped in to save her

Explaining what everyone found so funny in a way that made it all click for her

Max became close with her easily

She listened intently every time he started Maxsplaining or info-dumping

It was obvious to her when he was joking

He appreciates her laughing at his jokes

Charles is absolutely clueless

The two often staring blankly at the other

No thoughts, head empty

Until they figured out their shared interest in music

Then they wouldn’t shut up

Lando appreciates her tastes in food

Specifically the lack their of

Finally he could go out to eat with someone who understood him and his pickiness

Much to Oscar’s dismay

Daniel is very sweet with her

He tries his best not to shout in her ear and if he knows he’s going to be loud he’ll make sure to warn her

He gets defensive whenever someone gets insensitive

He’s always ready to tell someone off if they aren’t listening to her and what she’s saying she needs

Lewis was always wanting to know as much as possible

Learning to help make people aware of the hurtful stereotypes

It was refreshing to see and she openly answered any questions he asked

The reporter and journalists on the other hand, had yet to learn their lesson

It became a game among everyone who was regularly in the paddock

A game they called “which journalist would be getting a blunt answer today”

They always wanted to know why she did the the things she did

In which they would either receive a blunt and unfiltered answer

Or a sarcastic remark

“Is this the new style?”

“Sure. But I just find it comfy.”

“Do you ever get annoyed by things around the paddock?”

“That’s a stupid question. Don’t you have a degree for this stuff?”

“How do you and Oscar celebrate?”

“We party really hard. Drink a lot… of water. Lay on the floor. I’m always exhausted after.”

Speaking of the floor

She had a habit of always being on it

She determined that some floors were better then others

Oscar loved to indulge in her experiments

Rating every floor she was willing to lay on

They once were judging to tarmac on the circuit

Other drivers were doing track walks

Eventually they joined in

The journalists were confused at why half the grid was laying in the ground determining if they could sleep on it

It was a nice change, being around people who didn’t label her and accepted all of her quirks

Oscar was glad she felt at home around the paddock

He loves her for who she is

So seeing her smile about her environment and being accepted into his grid family made him smile too

[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter tags/warnings: not much yet, age gap, fluff, reader being horny (c'mon y'all it's me what do you expect), Javier being gorgeous, erotic novels honorable mention, mentions of cheating, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Chapter summary: You meet a beautiful stranger at the farmer's market. Is he what you need to get back on your feet?

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so very excited about starting this series! I have so many plans, and I can't wait to share them with you! Please keep in mind that this story will get darker the more it progresses. Thank you for reading!

***

You’ve been back in your hometown for about three months now. Three miserable and exhausting months. 

You’ve been working on the family farm four days a week, ten hours a day, every week since you got back. You figure it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to have the other three days off, but no. Those days are spent at the local farmer’s market, sitting in a stiff plastic chair in the sticky Texan heat. 

It doesn’t even matter that you wear a tank top and shorts to the market, you feel like you’re going to melt every damn time you have to go. The same goes for working on the farm, only you’re less fortunate in that situation. You know it’s smarter to wear jeans out there, so most of the time you do.

You’re trying to be grateful to your parents, you really are. They just make it so damn hard sometimes. Sure, they gave you a job when you needed one, but they never stop talking about how they were right. And they were, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. 

Your mom and dad never approved of your boyfriend, and had told you as much. You chose to ignore that fact considering they said that about every boyfriend you ever had. How the hell were you supposed to know if they were actually concerned, or if they just didn’t want you to date?

They had warned you about him. Told you that he wasn’t genuine, that you need to be careful. They told you the same about your so-called “best friend”, who was the person you found your boyfriend balls deep inside of three months ago.

But, of course, despite their protest, you had moved out with him anyway. Spent your savings on renting an apartment that he put practically nothing into. In retrospect, you really should have known; there were so many signs. You were just too damn stubborn to see them. You never would have guessed that he would go as far as to cheat on you.

Your own poor choices are what ultimately landed you back here, getting out of your dad’s old truck to unload a creaky table to set up the stand at the farmer’s market. Again. You roll your eyes and pop your earbuds in, putting on your favorite playlist. 

You open the back of the truck and start to drag the plastic table out. It slides across the bed effortlessly thanks to the morning dew it’s been sitting out in. Unfortunately, that detail is another pain in the ass more than anything, because you end up getting half-soaked as you haul it into the giant tent that makes up the market.

You get it set up in an empty booth, smacking the rusted hinges to get it to stand without risk of collapse. After you lean on it to make sure it won’t fall, you return to the truck to start the endless trips of carrying produce to the stand. You usually make your younger sister help you with this part since she often tags along, but, being a senior in highschool, she couldn’t make it today. 

Once you have everything put together and displayed on various shelves, you take a seat in the foldable chair you had brought with you. You expect it will be a slow day, as Mondays usually are, so you brought a book to pass the time. 

You rarely sell anything on weekdays, you have no idea why your parents are so adamant about you coming all the way out here every monday since you got here. Maybe it’s just to get you out of the house—you wouldn’t put it past them.

You take one more look around the market to make sure there’s nobody approaching your stand before you open your book to the first page. It’s a newer, trashy romance. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but you like what you like. 

Sometimes you swear your love life is awful or boring enough for you to actually wish to be in the place of the girls in your books. At least the fictional men seem genuine. Less likely to cheat on you with your best friend, you think bitterly. 

Less likely to manipulate into moving into an expensive apartment without helping, Less likely to treat you like shit. Plus, you probably wouldn’t mind the fact that they all seem to be absolute hunks and amazing in bed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from your spiraling thoughts, your cheeks reddening once you realize you have been staring blankly at the same page for a good few minutes. 

You have to steady yourself so you don’t drop your book on the dirt below you, which has you almost falling out of your chair in the process. 

You glance up at the stranger as you situate yourself, which doesn’t do much to help. The man is drop-dead fucking gorgeous. He’s staring down at you, clearly amused. His full lips are tugged up into a half-smirk. You think for a second that he looks familiar, but you would for sure remember seeing a man like this.

His hair is dark, a bit long and shaggy, but in the way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. He wears sunglasses, you notice with disappointment. You don’t know why you have such a strong urge to see what’s hidden under there. You’re guessing they’re brown. He seems to carry a kind aura, it’s a fitting idea that his eyes would be warm.

Even though you sense such a kindness emanating from him, there’s an annoying nagging from the back of your head that makes you uneasy. His stare is almost imposing, the way he carries himself adding so much to the effect. Your stomach bunches up in a frustrating way that signifies both anxiety and lust. You don’t really care much to figure out which is dominant at the moment. 

All you know is that you’re drawn to this man like a moth to a flame, and that after all you’ve been through, you deserve to admire him at the very least. It’s not often you come across such a good looking man. A fictional looking man. 

He cocks his head after you stare for what could probably be considered a second too long. Your face must be about the shade of a tomato at this point. The weight of an object in your hand quickly reminds you of the task at hand. 

This is a potential customer. You need to stop staring like a schoolgirl. Besides, he must be what… ten, fifteen years older than you? God, you can’t even tell. He looks mature, but somehow ageless at the same time. He has strong, masculine features, but a sort of boyish quality, too. If someone told you he was some kind of a god himself, you would have no trouble believing them.

“I-I’m so sorry, let me just put this down,” you say to the god, trying not to stumble over your own words after getting caught ogling. 

“No problem at all, sweetheart,” he says, clearly unbothered. Fuck, his voice. It’s deep and rich, and he has some sort of accent,  like he grew up speaking another language. Spanish? Probably spanish. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Down, girl.

You take a breath in through your nose, willing yourself to relax as you set your book down on the table in front of you. You resist the urge to shut your eyes out of embarrassment as he looks down at the erotic cover, and then back at you with an arched brow and an amused smile. You move quickly as you snatch the book back to flip it back-side-up.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you quietly attempt to move on from that interaction, trying to reign in some of your composure. He’s standing with one hand on his hip, which is jutted out just slightly. He licks his plush lips and stands up mostly straight before he speaks. He pulls a piece of paper out of his snug back pocket and starts to read off of it. 

Your face keeps a nice flush as he reads off of his list. Your core throbs every now and again as he talks, making it a bit hard for you to concentrate, but you’re pretty sure you got everything. 

You nod at him to let him know as much before you get up to collect everything. Who knows if your voice even works right now. You do your best to ignore the weight of his stare on your back as you move around.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” he says, obviously wanting to start a conversation. “You been here long?”

“No, not really,” you say, trying to level your voice as you place produce into bags. “Well, kind of. I grew up here but I moved away a few years ago. Only been back for a couple months now. I’m staying to help my parents for a bit before I can get back onto my feet,” you finish as you secure the last bag. 

You look up as you place the goods on the table, this time meeting the man’s uncovered eyes. Brown and expressive, just as you imagined. You smile absentmindedly, and he mirrors your action, making your stomach twist once again. What a fucking smile. 

“Well, welcome back, then,” he says. “I’m Javier. Prefer it if you would call me Javi, though.” 

“Javi it is,” you say, liking the feel of his name on your tongue. You tell him your name and he nods. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” 

Fuck this man, he has to know what he’s doing. 

“Thank you,” you say, trying to control the pitch of your voice. 

He watches you as you place his bags on the table in front of you, now full of his requested items. As you catch his gaze, everything around you seems to fade to black. No sounds, no movement. All you can focus on is the sudden electric current that is born between the two of you. 

A nervous flutter starts in your stomach, but you just can’t bring yourself to look away, as if the attraction would be broken and gone forever if you did. The two of you hold eye contact for what could be a minute or ten before someone walks past your stand, drawing your attention back to reality.

You both let out a breath you’ve been holding, yours probably more shaky than his. You shake your head and start to add up his total after wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts. He stands back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you work.

It only takes a moment. You tell him his total and he slides his wallet out, handing you the exact cash. You both thank each other at the same time, making you giggle. He smiles wider at the sound. 

“You’ve got a nice laugh, sweetheart,” he complements warmly. 

“Thank you. I made it myself,” you joke. Javi chuckles to himself, almost like he’s surprised to hear you make a joke. “Sorry,” you say, laughter in your own voice. “That was kind of lame.” 

“No, that was pretty clever, actually,” he says through his smile. 

You let yourself get one more good look as you reciprocate the gesture, fully expecting him to part ways. He doesn’t though, instead he asks you the one question you had hoped that nobody would ask you. 

“What brought you back here?” 

Your smile drops slightly and you consider lying to him, telling him that your parents wanted your help and that’s all. You know you can’t, though. There’s no point in trying to hide the truth. Nothing stays hidden in this small town. 

So you don’t. You sum up every stupid, unfair thing that made you return home. There’s a flash of sympathy in his gaze that makes you want to shut up, but some sick part of you craves that sympathy at the same time. 

It only takes you a couple minutes to have everything out, but he stays quiet and patient the entire time. Never interrupting you once and nodding along at all the right parts to let you know he’s listening. 

You haven’t felt this seen in a long time, It feels good. It makes you want to wrap yourself up in this total stranger’s arms and beg him to hold you. Fuck, now you’re picturing that. You need to not picture that. Luckily you don’t have much of a chance to, because he’s responding to you only a few seconds after you finish. 

“Well, that’s a damn shame. Fuckin’ boys don’t even know how to treat a sweet girl anymore.” Javi says, making you blush once again. 

The attention he gives you feels the same as jumping into a cool pool after being in the sun all day. It’s unbelievably refreshing to hear something like that instead of the usual scolding and ‘I told you so’s.  

He seems to put thought into what comes out of his mouth, and it genuinely makes you feel like he cares. Like he wants to make sure you hear what you deserve to hear.

“What makes you so sure I’m sweet?” you ask playfully, trying to change the topic to ignore the craving for more kind words. Might as well flirt a little while you’re at it, you figure. What can it hurt?

“Just a hunch,” he says, his tone the same as yours as his smile crinkled eyes bore into yours. You nod a little, your adoring smile never wavering.

 You both notice the small line of people beginning to form behind Javi at the same time. He almost looks disappointed at the sight, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet. 

“Just one second, honey,” he says, digging the scrap of paper from before out of his pocket again. Once he has that laid against the table in front of him, he supplies a pen from the front pocket of his shirt. He uses it to scribble something down onto the paper. 

You crane your neck slightly to try to catch a peak, but you can’t tell with how fast he’s writing. When he’s done, he folds it once, slides it your way, and gives a singular nod. 

“See you around, sweetheart,” he says as he starts to leave. 

“Yeah. See you,” you mumble under your breath as you watch him stride away, bags of produce in hand.

A woman walks up to the table, and you quickly turn to her. 

“So sorry about that. How can I help you?” you ask quickly, eyeing the paper Javi left behind.

It only takes you a little while to get everyone who was in line checked out, but it feels like it could have been hours. As soon as the last customer starts to walk away, your hands are on the note, shakily unfolding it to reveal Javi’s (suitably) scratchy handwriting. 

You see what you can only assume to be his phone number, and above it, there’s a note. 

“I would love to see you again, sweet girl. Give me a call?” 

Your heart flutters as you bite your lip and read the note over again. There’s no way you’re not taking up that offer. 

***

Thank you so much for reading!! I would absolutely love any kind of feedback so I know where everyone's at on this!! I have a tag list open for this series if anybody would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @survivingandenduring @kewwrites (pls lmk if these tags worked!)

[cerridwen007]

Unwind.

*Images are from Pinterest and are used for aesthetics only.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x f!reader (afab)

Word count: 4.1k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Dieter, has come home early from a project. Hoping to surprise you, he instead gets a surprise of his own when he discovers what you like to do unwind alone from a long day.

Notes/warnings: Smut, fluff, DUB-CON (one party is under the influence of ouid but they are both very into it), established relationship, accidental pervy!Dieter, accidental exhibitionism, pussy drunk Dieter, masturbation (f and m), sex toys, descriptions of smoking the devils lettuce, mentions of other drugs, porn with little plot, oral (f!receiving), piv sex, cumplay, they are both just super horny and sweet for each other, swearing, no y/n. 

a/n: My first Dieter fic, I can’t remember really where or when I got the idea for this fic, but I knew it just screamed Dieter. This is probably quite up there with the filthiest thing i've written, and i'm not sorry, lol. Also, I apologise for my very long absence in posting writing. Life just got the best of me, and I lost all motivation pretty much to write. Ngl I don't think this is my best work, cause I'm a little rusty but it's fun and I enjoyed writing it. But anyway, I hope y'all enjoy, and any interactions with my posts mean the world to me. Love yall so much! <3

*******

Now that his months-long project had wrapped up early, all Dieter wanted to do was surprise you. The both of you had long played the game of hiding behind corners and hiding in all sorts of spots to try and scare each other, all throughout your relationship. 

But more often than not, it was you that made his heart jump out his chest, and a long list of swear words leave his mouth as he over-dramatically clutched his chest. To which you always laughed so hard you cried a little at another successful scare and his reaction. “I'll get you next time.” he mumbles, under his breath, a cheeky grin on his handsome face as he plans when best to get you back.

So now, with an upper hand, he was hoping that he could give you a big fright and jump out of your closet when you least expect it. But what happened was so much more surprising.

You had just gotten back to your shared apartment after what felt like the longest week of your life. You had been drowning in deadlines at work and were so glad that it was friday evening so you could finally get a proper break. After ‘gracefully’ hanging up your jacket on the hooks near the front door and tossing your keys into the bowl on the entryway table, you immediately take off your bra as you walk into your apartment. Throwing it on the back of one of the barstools sitting in front of your kitchen island.

A loud sigh exhaling from your mouth as the pressure is released from your sore shoulders. It had been a long day at work before you ran around afterwards, getting a whole bunch of errands done that you had been putting off. So you were exhausted and understandably so. 

You kick off your shoes as you walk through the messy apartment, not bothering to put them away where they belong or tidy up the growing mess just yet. No, first you need to unwind from the long ass week you had. Besides, the weekend started tomorrow, and you would have plenty of time to clean up then and before Dieter came back a week and a half from now.

You sighed again sadly thinking about your boyfriend. God, you missed him. He had been gone about 3 months now, and each day didn't get any easier. When the two of you were together, you were attached at the hip. Spending all the time you could together; talking, laughing, cuddling and fucking.

So it was quite a change the last few months going from spending almost all your time with your favourite person to almost none, except the few short calls Dieter managed to find time to have with you amongst his very busy schedule. 

You tried to remind yourself of the fact that Dieter would be back before you knew it, and then you could once again spend all the much needed time together that you wanted.

You opened your fridge looking for a snack. You could have to tie your over till dinner that you would order yourself later, a treat for the end of a busy week. 

You picked a few string cheese packets from the chilly shelves of your fridge before closing it shut with your hip as you walked off into your living room. Sitting down with a big “oof” on your couch and immediately sinking deep into the plush cushions as far as you could.

Dieter's heart was beating fast as he watched you through the horizontal slats of the storage closet door. He waited with baited breath, trying to find the perfect time to jump out and give you both the scare and surprise of a lifetime. He had been lucky enough to arrive an hour or so before you got home, which gave him plenty of time to get ready and pick the best hiding spot before you arrived.

He bites his lip, trying to hold back the chuckles wanting to escape as he imagined your hopefully soon to be shocked face. He watches as you get comfy on the couch and can’t help but look at you with adoration, even with dark circles under your eyes and your hair slightly untamed, you looked like a dream, the prettiest thing he has seen. 

You quickly finish your cheese sticks, hungrier than you thought you were, and toss the wrappers on the coffee table. Yet another thing to be cleaned up tomorrow. You let out a long yawn and stretched your arms above your head. A cheeky smile graces your mouth as you realise how you're going to spend the rest of your night unwinding.

You waste no time in reaching into the draws of your coffee table before you and pulling out a dark green bong with small red flowers decorating it that Dieter got you for your birthday last year. You put it down the top of the coffee table briefly as you pull out a matching glass box with your stash in it and a red grinder. 

Your fingers are working swiftly in their practiced work as you get your first cone ready. You pull out your black zippo lighter with your and Dieters' initials and the day the two of you started dating engraved on the front. You flick your thumb over the flint wheel a few times until it ignites. You take in a fraction of a breath before putting your mouth on the end of the glass tube, tilted towards you.

Holding the flame over dried grounds, watching as the white smoke slowly crawls up the neck of the bong. You let the smoke enter your lungs, filling you with warmth.

Your lips only disconnect when all the smoke is gone and you breathe in a little of fresh air. You hold it in your mouth for a few seconds before you tilt your head back and exhale all the hazy smoke. Your loose fist covers your mouth when you let a small cough. 

You decide to do one more hit before you put down the ‘vase’ and let your head rest against the center of the back of the couch. Your legs spread wide, carelessly, as you wait for the drug to slowly take its effects. You groan as you lie back on the couch with a mouthful of smoke. You tilt your head up to look up at the ceiling as you let the hazy white cloud float from your parted lips.

Reaching down beside you, your fingers find something from out under your couch, a rectangle box. You open it to reveal a matte purple 8 inch, life-like, dildo. Fit with veins, balls at the base, and all. Your mouth waters just from the sight.

You have been extremely horny as of late. You always are when Dieter goes away for long periods of time, and you don’t have him to give you toe-curling orgasms all the time. You can never make yourself cum quite as hard as Dieter can make you come, but not from lack of trying. You lazily scoot down the couch a bit so you can take your pants and underwear off. 

Dieter eyes bulge in head when he realises what you about to do and he swears his heart skips a beat when he sees that you're wearing his boxer briefs, even more so when he sees a glistening line of arousal, saturating them. He palms his now fully erect cock through his jeans, as his eyes connect with your glistening folds.

You take the hefty dildo out of the box and half haphazardly toss the container to the ground. Your breath hitches in your throat as you make quite work of sliding it through your folds, the tip catches deliciously on your clit.

You toss it to the side for a quick sec and reach down to your bong on the coffee table, after taking another cone you put it back on the table and grab the remote of the table, flicking on the tv and putting on one of your favourite vibey sex playlists on spotify on.

You sigh as you lean back and you take off your work shirt, leaving you in nothing but a flimsy old tank top, which you nipples prominently stick out of and some cosy socks. You pull your breasts out of your shirt and start groping yourself while watching the screen playing at a low volume, with hazy eyes.

You soon pick the silicone dick up again and slowly tease yourself by tracing around your lips and through your dripping seam. Your head lulls on the back of the couch. You tease around your aching hole with the tip before pushing in ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back for a second as you moan at the slight stretch. “D-dieter.” You softly call out.

His eyes bulge out of his sockets watching you, his hand unconsciously reaching down under the elastic of his pants to feel his rock-hard erection. He swipes his thumb over his weeping tip and has to bite back a groan.

You pump in so slowly, only till it reaches halfway before you pull it out further again. You continue this to help work yourself open.

He watches you intently, stroking himself to the slow rhythm youv’e set for fucking yourself. He uses his other hand to pinch his base every few minutes, to keep from blowing his load, so close just from the sight of you.

God, he doesnt even care about scaring and surprising you anymore, all he cares about is watching you as you fuck your self, quietly calling out his name as you take your time in getting to your release. He has half a mind to just jump out now and fuck you himself but the sight of you spread out for him, caught up in your own little pleasure-filled world is a sight to good to be true. 

He studies your form like he doesn't know it like the back of his hand, like he hasn't spent hours upon hours coaxing the prettiest little moans and whimpers from you, caressing over every single inch of you.

His eyes will never grow tired of the sight of you, your centre gushing with arousal, your eyes fighting to stay open, your mouth on the other hand, fighting to stay closed as a beautifully orchestrated ensemble of curses, moans, groans and his name come flooding out of your mouth.

His mouth waters as the ring of your arousal grows thicker around the base of the silicone cock. He missed the taste of you so much, while he was away. He loved spending hours between your legs, until you were shaking and overstimulated and had to beg him to stop. Crying out “Dieter! Please!” as you struggled to push away his starved mouth.

Your head is feeling quite light now, and the pleasure is rushing through your veins as you increase the speed of your strokes. You keep chanting Dieter’s name, over and over again, softly as if it will summon him somehow. Well shit, maybe it does.

Before he even realises what he is doing, his hand is fumbling for the doorknob of the closet, and he is stepping out, sweaty, and disheveled, all just from watching you. Your heart stops for a second as you hear the closet door near you open, your brain unable to come up with any sane reasonings until Dieter walks out flushed and sheepishly in a trance, consumed by his love and lust for you. 

“Dieter?” You whisper, shocked to your core, that he is standing in front of you and still not entirely convinced that he isn't a hallucination caused by your hornyness and longing for him. And also maybe the drugs too.

He swallows harshly, his throat dry. All the liquids in his body seemingly have traveled lower in anticipation. You're about to jump up from the couch and squeeze him till his ribs break, but he beats you to it, sinking to the floor in front of you and hugging your calves tightly. As much as you missed your baby, you can't help but feel a little awkward, having been caught masturbating and still with the dildo between your legs, no doubt.

Before you can even clear your throat and try to explain yourself, Dieter starts kissing along the tops of your thighs, up your stomach, then sternum, up your throat till his lips lock onto yours. He kisses you with such meaning and passion as he tries and conveys all the feeling of how much he missed you and is so glad to see you now into a single kiss

“God. I. Missed.You. So. Much. Baby.” He says in between quick pecks before once again consuming your mouth with his own, trying to make up for all that lost time he wasn't able to taste your lips on his.

You break the kiss with a gasp, looking down to your legs where Dieter is spreading them to see the current state of your throbbing pussy. “Fuck and it sure looks like she missed me too, huh sweetheart. Just oozing and weeping, begging for my touch. Ain't that right baby?” He lovingly teases.

You grin and spread your legs even further to let him get an even better look at you swollen, glistening folds, still clenching around the girth of the dildo. He reaches his hand up between your legs and pulls the toy in and out of you slowly, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Fuck.” He groans, completely enthralled by the sight of you, and the growing creamy ring of arousal you have created around the base of the cock. He continues to slowly pump it in and out of you, as you squirm above him, your once lost orgasm now coming so close to grasp again. 

“Dieter...please.” You croon, begging him not to stop as you feel the edge of your high starts to wash over you.

“Atta girl, fuck just like that. Cum for me baby.” He softly demands, as he works the now shiny dildo hard, fast and deep into your cunt. He sits up a bit on his knees and hovers over you.

Leaning his head to the side he starts to suck on your pulsing clit. His eyes roaming between your leaking hole and trembling thighs, up to your red, cloudy eyes struggling to stay open with your brows furrowed above them. Your mouth agape, curses and whimpers as your orgasm hits you full force. 

He watches with blown eyes, mouth hanging open, nearly drooling at the sight of your back arching off the couch, as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. He slowly pumps the cock in and out of you, prolonging your high till your legs close firmly around it. He carefully opens them back enough so he can pull out the cock.

He palms himself as he inspects the aftermath, mouth watering from the sight and smell of your creamy residue slathered upon the tip to the flared base of the slick silicone. He sticks out his tongue and brings the base, where most of the cum has gathered in a band round the bottom, to his mouth. You watch stunned and too aroused to speak as he licks it clean of your sweet drippings. 

“God baby, missed the taste of this sweet pussy.” he groans. You clench around nothing as you watch him, eyes fluttering behind closed lids, messily tongue the silicone like one might lick brownie or cookie batter of a spatula.

After he finishes with the lower half, his lips pink and shiny, he wordlessly brings the tip up to your face. You grin devilishly before opening your lips wide and sucking the fat head into your mouth. You too moan at the sweet taste of yourself, not often shared directly from the source but usually from Dieters tongue do you taste the sticky release of your climax.

He palms his painfully hard cock through his pants, before spreading your thighs wide once again, and feasting on the remaining juices. You moan as best as you can with the cock down your throat, before removing it from your mouth and sitting it beside you as you watch Dieter's beautiful curls bob up and down between your legs. 

His tongue slides from your quivering hole to your clit, licking flatly. He alternates between sucking your nub, to fucking into your wet hole.

You fight to keep your thighs open, to not crush his head or let the gorgeous sight below you be hidden, but you can’t any more as the drug haze inside your veins seems to have taken all your strength. Sensing your struggle, Dieter curls his arms around your thighs, holding them open and drags your center closer to his hungry mouth.

You whimper at the dull pain that you feel from his tight grip holding you apart, just under your breaking point. The aching soreness from your legs being spread so wide, only adding to the intensity of pleasure rolling around in your stomach. 

He alternates between eating you messily, and slowly picking you apart. Motorboating his lips and nose between your folds, and precise and firm licks on your clit while curling his thick fingers up into that sweet, sweet spot inside you, that has you moaning, incohesive gibberish from your pleasure and drug intoxication.

Even with Dieter being the sober one (surprisingly), he sounds just as wrecked as you, if not more. So drunk and intoxicated on you and your pussy, something he and you both thought he was deprived of way too long.

Soon you are reaching yet another, and surely not the last of night, orgasm. Your thighs shake with the intensity of the pleasure seeping into your veins. Your lips go from being an wide ‘o’ shape to a cheesy wide grin as the dopamine and endorphins flood your system. 

Dieter makes sure he licks up every single drop of your essence before he rises off his knees slightly and encases you in a massive, big bear hug. Feeling what little air was left in your lungs, you giggle along with Dieter breathlessly as you squeeze his middle just as hard.

He lifts his head to plant the softest, sweet kiss on your lips before rubbing his nose against yours. You take a deep, tired breath in and your eyes flutter close, his delicious musky scent filling your nostrils once again. 

“I missed you so much too, baby.” You whisper. You admire the deep crows feet around his eyes as he grins, his dark rich eyes sparking as he beams with happiness, love, and lust. His smile turns into something that of the devils as he begins to caress your body.

He lifts up your arms and takes off your tank top, throwing it on the ground somewhere. Before his lips lock onto your pebbled nipples. Groaning as he squeezes and plays with the other one, before switching his mouth over. After leaving your tits a glistening, saliva-covered mess he descends further down your body, his kiss-bruised lips planting themselves on every single inch of skin he can see. 

“Mm need to fffffuck you sweetttt thing, and ffffeel that heavenly p-pussy wwwrapped around me againnn.” He mumbles, his lips smushed against your stomach. You softly laugh and nod your head. Getting the gist of what he was saying and knowing him well enough to know what he said that you didn't catch.

“Please Dieter. Please fuck me. Need… to feel you. Missed you…. and your cock…. so fucken much.” You garble out in your own form of a coherent sentence.

Dieter can’t help but whimper listening to you, his cock pulses with need for release as he listens to your confession (although mumbled) of need for him.

He can’t wait any longer.

He reaches under your ass and lifts you up and shifts you so you're lying on your back longways on the couch. He quickly shucks his shirt off, getting a little stuck in the process as he does so. You both giggle and laugh as your hands go up to help him. He soon pulls it off and makes quick work off, shoving his pants and boxers off his legs.

Both of your eyes are shining with something so deep and emotional as you admire each other's naked bodies. A sight seen countless times between the two of you but one that neither would ever grow sick of. You reach up and stroke your hands up and down Dieter's front, feeling his strong chest and plush belly that you love very, very much. He whimpers as your hands trail down into the coarse hair at the base of his leaking cock. 

Even as he towers over your relaxed form, there is an air of submission to him still. The way his eyes are glazed over with no other drug than love, pupils blown wider than when he was higher than a kite on LSD. His eyes brows slightly furrowed in, his chest moving fast as he pants. His bottom lip trembling with anticipation of connecting your bodies together so intimately once again how they should be. How they would always be if Dieter got a chance. 

He shakes himself out of his love trance and lowers himself over you, his forearms resting on the couch beside your head. You close your eyes and kiss him deeply, giving him a piece of you that no one but him gets to have. Literally and spiritually. He groans almost pathetically when you reach your hand down and swipe his tip through your once again dripping folds. 

Your squinting and red eyes look up at him pleadingly, just begging to put the both of you out of the agonising wait and finally feel each other. He smiles a soft smile before he lines himself up and slowly pushes into your pulsing cunt. 

“Ohhhh….ohhh…oh…yeah, honey.” He moans out as he slowly bottoms out in your cunt. You gasp as you adjust to his considerably large girth. Something you truly will never fully get used to. Your hands clutch as his biceps, grounding yourself as your fluttering pussy adjusts to him.

“God….fucken hell, baby. You feel somehow even better than I remember. Jesus christ.” He pants, his face screwing up from the pleasure just simply inside your beautiful heat gives him. He desperately tries to think of anything else other than your stunning form below him and just made for him cunt, feeling already so close to blowing his load.

He reaches down and pinches his base and quickly begins Jack hammering into you fast and hard, to hopefully get you off before he ultimately finishes way quicker than he intended to.

“Oh f-f-fuck, Dieter!” You cry out, eyes squeezing tight at the immediate hard and fast pace Dieter has set while fucking you.

“Im s-sorry b-baby. Fuckkk. You just feel too damn good. I just n-n-need. Ahhh. Need you come before I-I-I do.” He stutters. 

Your heart and cunt clenches around, eyes rolling back from the pure ecstasy coursing through your as Dieter repeatedly stuffs his fat tip into the squishy part deep inside you.

“OoOoh shit, baby. Can feel you clenching real good around me, god damn!”  He groans.

You lay there bonelessly, whimpering as Dieter’s fingers circle you clit just right. Sending you over the edge into the deep depths of mind-numbing pleasure. Your body shakes as your orgasm comes crashing down and over you, with Dieter only seconds after.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh oh oh shit,” He wails out with every rope of cum that spurts out of him, his hips almost unconsciously thrusting themselves as deep as they can go every time, only stopping on the last rope of cum, burying his now spent cock deep into your pussy. He lets his full weight drop on top of you as he catches his breath from his own high. 

You breathe out with a soft smile, feeling such bliss and warmth from Dieter being here with you. He moves his head from your neck and looks at you. You both smile wide and break in hearty chuckles, before kissing each other.

You relish in the feeling of Dieter’s chest booming with laughter pressed up against yours, feeling his beating heart beat under you hand, showing that he is here with you now and just Dieter in general, his body fitting on top of your like a puzzle, like two pieces that you never would’ve known hadn't always been connected together like this. 

And that’s exactly how you fall asleep, entwined in each others arms, connected in all ways possible, smiling to yourself as you listen to Dieter’s soft snores and you feel his heart beating strongly against yours, before you two let the sweet blissful temptations of sleep take you too. Everything was going to be okay now that your love was back with you. 

*********

[scribblestatic]

I promise y'all I'm not trying to slow burn y'all to the confrontation; I just thought of this situation considering Liu Qingge's dead in this universe and I had to write it first qwq

As an apology, this one is much longer than the others. I even put a Read More on it, it's that long.

Prev: Part 3

---

Luo Binghe isolated Shen Yuan for a while at the beginning. He was exceptionally unhealthy and had a hard time holding conversations at first due to exhaustion. However, after a few weeks, his body started filling in and his hair wasn't nearly as fragile.

By this point, the wives had heard that Shen Qingqiu was removed from the Water Prison and taken to Luo Binghe's quarters. Of course, some of the ladies wanted to know why, considering all of the horrors Shen Qingqiu forced on his young student. Little Palace Mistress in particular was ready to whip him to shreds like she had done several times before.

However, instead of the others, the first one to see him is Liu Mingyan.

She had snuck in, back before Luo Binghe more heavily warded his quarters from his still-large harem.

She found him in Binghe's bed, still sallow but looking healthier, hair spread out on the pillow, both eyes closed. The one without an eyeball had a flattened, drooping eyelid uncovered by an eyepatch at the moment. She stared down at him for a good while, noting how the sheets didn't fill with his limbs like they did for others. Gazing at how his chest moved with each breath.

Eventually, she started to move, raising the dagger she had in her hand.

"...Excuse me."

Her eyes flicked up to his face, seeing his remaining eye open.

From his gaze, she ended up freezing.

After all, there was no way the Shen Qingqiu she knew had such a calm, almost kind look to him.

"This one would usually not hinder you on your quest for revenge... However, it seems Luo Binghe desires this one alive. I, ah, cannot say how he would react upon returning to see me dead." His eye looks away. "And, this one isn't the Shen Qingqiu you are familiar with. Apparently you can tell from my qi? Please check as you wish."

He shifted a bit, raising his right arm before pausing. After all, he only had about half of his bicep left.

"Ah. Right. I don't have wrists anymore."

They paused in an awkward silence, and Liu Mingyan lowered the dagger.

"...Your voice sounds different."

"Does it? For some reason, I can't tell. It sounds like me, but also doesn't sound like me. But I guess this one doesn't sound like Shen Jiu."

"Who is that."

"Ah, Shen Qingqiu. Or, well, he was." The amputated man in the bed smiled waveringly, and expression she never once thought she'd ever see on such a face. How did he manage to make such sharp eyes soften like that? "This one is Shen Yuan though. Luo Binghe summoned me here... Not exactly sure why, but I'm sure it's for a good reason."

His manner of speech was still polite, but his tone was more casual. And tired, a little like it took some effort for him to interact with her. There were also bags below his present eye, the eyelid to the other one having lifted slightly from muscle memory. She saw the scarring inside, her own eye twitching in unwilling sympathetic pain.

The eyelid shut tightly a moment later.

"Ah, excuse me. This one is sorry you have to see me in such a state. I'm sure it's quite ugly."

She stared down at him a while longer before she left without saying anything else.

Of course, once Luo Binghe returned and Shen Yuan talked about Liu Mingyan's visit (sans the dagger, of course), the demon emperor responded by more heavily warding his quarters and giving a firm talking to his harem about not visiting his shizun.

(Why, they wondered, did he say that word with affection now when it previously only curled from his mouth doused in hatred?)

Still, while Liu Mingyan pondered over the strange spirit taking up residence in Shen Qingqiu's body, the spirit, Shen Yuan, asked to be able to visit her. Luo Binghe told her this, his arms crossed and appearing very unsatisfied.

"He cannot come to you. So you go to him."

Luo Binghe wasn't one to order her around, not usually. Unless he needed martial assistance, for her to follow him during the many battles they fought in together at that point, or they wanted to share body heat, he left her to herself. She had a firm position in the harem, a powerful one at that, so it was not often she received any sort of order.

But he ordered her to visit Shen Yuan, who had wanted to somehow visit her himself.

Strange...

--

"Ah, this one didn't really think about his mobility when I asked to visit you. This one apologizes to have disturbed you."

This time, he's dressed in more layers than just his night clothes. He also has an eyepatch over his empty right socket. Instead of a top-do, his hair is tied with a ribbon along his lower back, still going easy on the styles as his hair recovers. He seems more comfortable than he was when she first saw him.

Again, that sheepishly polite look on his face. The likelihood that this was just some other scheme by Shen Qingqiu to harm Luo Binghe in some way seemed increasingly less likely. Besides, he had said something about being summoned into the body.

She really should've checked his soul that night. Luo Binghe had told her not to touch him, and at that moment, he was currently sitting in a nearby chair, acting as though he wasn't paying attention by reading a book.

"...Hmm. You haven't disturbed me. This Mingyan was also interested in seeing you again."

"For certain, you must have questions. This one probably produced more than answered them when we first met. I hope to clear up what I can."

So, she asks about what he meant that he was Shen Yuan, and he said he wasn't Shen Jiu but someone else. He's dodgy when she asks where he came from, but he does at least say that he's from another world, which...sounds quite like what Luo Binghe had said after he temporarily disappeared after a battle, instead replaced by some strange replica of him.

The other him had been tall, his hair curling like a curtain of waves along his back. His skin was darker, body more built with muscle and health. He was, indeed, incredibly handsome.

If not for the fact he had been extremely hostile.

He fought viciously, nearly killing Sha Hualing in one of her usual attempts to fight their lord husband, only realizing that he wasn't him and shifting to fighting him with the intent to kill. But instead, he used a sword that seemed to be Xin Mo, but wrapped in bindings that hindered its presence and power. Moreover, the moves he used, the talismans, the sword forms...

He had been trained properly in Qing Jing's martial arts, only seemingly lacking in some experience. But he overcame her with sheer force of power and technique.

After he managed to leave, their lord husband later returned, a strange braid having made its way into his hair.

He has yet to take it down, even now.

He returned with distress and a renewed anger toward Shen Qingqiu. From what she could hear, he had roared in fury at him, demanding to know why he couldn't have been "like him." Why he deserved vitriol from him at all.

It seemed to hurt Luo Binghe more to have conclusive evidence that Shen Qingqiu could've been different than it had been to imagine it.

...Was this "Shen Yuan" supposed to be a different Shen Qingqiu, summoned into the broken body of another version of himself?

Shen Yuan cringes when she asks, saying he would never have been anything like that "scum villain." Their souls have to be entirely different. It just so happens he occupied this empty body and Luo Binghe...wants something from him, and that he'll do what he can to help with whatever it is.

Liu Mingyan sends a look toward Luo Binghe, who gazes at the back of Shen Yuan's head, not even facing his book anymore.

She understands it then.

She's unsure what spell he'd used, but it does seem Shen Yuan truly is another soul summoned into Shen Qingqiu's body. The child who had wanted a kind shizun...he never healed. Is this his way of getting what he wants now? But, isn't this a loss of some sort?

Sure, the soul inside Shen Qingqiu is polite and kind, if not a bit oblivious, but it's not Shen Jiu (his name before courtesy, apparently). The true Shen Qingqiu never changed, even until he had to be replaced.

And now, Shen Qingqiu no longer has to suffer for the sins he committed, like murdering her brother.

Dissatisfaction curls in her heart... But it's not something to take out on the soul now inside his body. So, even if she doesn't quite return the sentiment, she at least isn't rude to him.

After their meeting ends, she talks to Ning Yingying, who had been worrying about the situation.

She seems relieved that Shen Qingqiu's soul is gone.

--

After several months, here's how some major ladies relate with Shen Yuan:

Liu Mingyan: Good Friendship

After their meeting, they didn't really talk much until she found him reading one of her books and he waxed poetic about its good, bad, ugly, and beautiful points. He turned so pale when she revealed she'd written it, but she also found herself appreciative of his honesty with her work. She starts showing him her drafts, which he reviews just as honestly as he did before, and they become more friendly.

Shen Yuan temporarily recedes from their friendship after he starts having more Shen Jiu dreams, and after she asks him what's wrong enough times, he finally has a sit down with her and confesses that he might actually be Shen Jiu, and he doesn't feel he deserves her friendship. They do become strained for a good minute again, but she eventually asks him to tell her why he killed Liu Qingge.

He was going to lie, but instead, he tells the truth—he hadn't meant to. In the dreams, he's trying desperately to save Liu Qingge, but his own poor control and cultivation accidentally kills him. He never confessed that it was an accident out of guilt and shame and that he felt he basically murdered Liu Qingge. The fact Shen Yuan starts crying during this distresses him further, as he feels it's even more proof that he might be Shen Jiu.

But Liu Mingyan is distressed for a different reason, since it means she took her anger and revenge out on a man who had actually tried to save her brother. They both don't talk for a while again, neither feeling like they deserve to associate with the other. However, when they both try to apologize, they say the other doesn't need to: Liu Mingyan because Shen Jiu was a grown man and should've told the truth, even if he didn't feel he'd be believed, and Shen Yuan because he might not even be Shen Jiu, and even if he was, then she's the one who wrong him more.

Shen Yuan insists that she was only working off what information she received and she couldn't be held accountable for that, but Liu Mingyan says that she would hold herself accountable for her response, and that she has to accept that she was in the wrong. Because Shen Qingqiu never said he had killed Liu Qingge, and had she not been caught up in her feelings, she could've seen how silent he was about accusations toward him, even if they were wild.

That makes Shen Yuan go quiet since he's thinking about how often Shen Jiu stays silent to accusations that, via his dreams, he's realizing weren't ever true.

After some time, their relationship heals, and they start talking again. He sees her as someone reliable and straightforward, and she sees him as someone incredibly forgiving, who has a kind heart that's honestly too soft for the dangerous world they live in. So, she ends up becoming something of a guardian friend for him whenever Binghe's away. She also enjoys talking about trashy smut novels with him while learning how to write even better prose and storylines.

Ning Yingying: Currently? Strained.

At first, he becomes very close to her after Liu Mingyan told her that Shen Qingqiu's soul was replaced by someone else. She quickly went to get to know him and learn more about him, chatting it up and being her outgoing, friendly self. However, after a few times, Shen Yuan can sense that there's something a tad strained about how she associates with him under it all.

She's the first one he tells about the strange Shen Jiu dreams, which took him a while to decide to tell anyone about anyway.

She, ah, did not react well.

Ning Yingying had turned pale and left the room hurriedly. The attendants at the time started talking about him "showing his true colors" on the grapevine (which prompts him to confess to Binghe and eventually prompts Liu Mingyan's visit and his confession to her about possibly being Shen Jiu). Shen Yuan first thinks she ran away from him because he had sexually groomed her, and he even recedes from accepting Luo Binghe's attention as well, which put them in a rocky spot.

But then he has a dream about Shen Jiu's relationship with Ning Yingying, and...

No. Nothing.

If anything, he just had a familial relationship with her. Shen Jiu thought of Ning Yingying as a daughter.

He watched Shen Jiu keep her from working in the Warm Red Pavilion when she was perhaps too young to remember, right around the same time he dreams that he actually went there to avoid being around the men on the peak. He paid special attention to her because of his distaste for men, to the point he doted on her too much.

When he brought Luo Binghe onto his peak just to spite Liu Qingge, Ning Yingying's attention on him didn't spark jealousy, but fear.

He was afraid that Luo Binghe would become like Qiu Jianluo, and Ning Yingying would become like Qiu Haitang. That fueled his unjustified hatred and mistreatment toward Luo Binghe, as though expecting him specifically to become just like the man who assaulted him...

And didn't he? Didn't Luo Binghe become that person in the end? All because of a self-fulfilling prophecy that didn't have to be that way if Shen Jiu trusted someone else and got help. He turned Luo Binghe into his worst nightmare. And Ning Yingying...lied to help get him imprisoned.

Remember the pause during Liu Mingyan's part when they were apologizing to each other? That was him thinking about Shen Jiu's problem: he never spoke up, assuming no one would believe him. He helped cause his own problems...but he couldn't even blame it all on Shen Jiu's secretive nature anymore.

Not long after he and Liu Mingyan make up (with some remaining strain with Binghe, but the man hasn't abandoned taking care of him, thankfully), he dreams about Ning Yingying's false account of his lewd nature. And he feels, in his own chest, that Shen Jiu felt utterly abandoned by everyone in the world. Meanwhile, he kept quiet, thinking that it would help separate himself from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, because despite his cattiness, he genuinely loved his position and felt pride in rising to power. The bamboo forest and the quiet pool had been his sanctuary.

He was satisfied with allowing himself to be destroyed if it meant the sect would survive. And his sect siblings just...let it happen. And so did Ning Yingying, pushing it along with her false testimony.

...Perhaps she saw the writing on the wall. Maybe she knew that Luo Binghe would seek to repay every grievance. Despite his sacrifice, Qing Jing Peak was lost, his sanctuary burnt to the ground. Because of his stupid pride, because of false testimonies and beliefs, and because his sect members hated him just as much as he despised himself.

If that was the the case, then Shen Yuan can't blame her for choosing the path to survival. She knew Luo Binghe loved her, and he taught her to care for herself. And that she did. So really, could he blame her for applying what he taught her to do? No. No, he couldn't. And he wouldn't.

She survived and is living well. As much as his heart hurts at the betrayal, he should've been a better person. Perhaps then, he could've kept the people he loved closer to him...

Shen Yuan blinked, realizing he forgot to think of it as Shen Jiu and not himself.

Ning Yingying has yet to speak to him again as of the time for his crowning ceremony, but at least he knows from a severely apologetic Luo Binghe that it's because she confessed the truth of her lie. She was present at his wedding, though they didn't speak much. He continues to extend an invitation to see her. She continues to deny it, so for now, he's leaving the door to communication quietly open.

This is getting a bit too long, so one last one for now!

Sha Hualing: Antagonistic, but actually friendly

It helps, in this case, that Shen Yuan's aware that Sha Hualing, born and raised as a demon, beats up on and teases people she likes. Of course, she can't actually beat up on him since Luo Binghe promised severe pain if she ever does. So, instead, she teases him. A lot.

At first, it was really meanspirited. She said a few things about his limbs that no reasonable person should laugh at. But Shen Yuan had joked back at her, firmly thinking he isn't Shen Jiu (and later, upon thinking he might be Shen Jiu, thinking he deserves it), so it didn't matter. She was thrown off at first, but found herself liking him for having thick skin.

After he and Liu Mingyan start having book club, Sha Hualing skulks around and teased him in more meanspirited but non-physically harmful ways, like poking him, flipping his hair over his head, or picking him up and holding him like a stuffed animal.

Although Shen Yuan can be oblivious, he starts recognizing her behavior as jealousy and eventually point-blank asks her if she's jealous of his time with Binghe. She huffs and doesn't react much, so, since he is now more aware of his own sexuality, he thinks further and askes if she's jealous of the time he spends with Liu Mingyan.

Sha Hualing sputters and huffs and calls him a fool, and Shen Yuan's expression steadily shifts from surprise to the most trollish grin she'd ever seen. She keeps insisting that wasn't the case, but Shen Yuan, having smelt blood in the water, brings out all his previous internet troll behavior to the point even she has to retreat.

Though, he does tell her later that he wouldn't tell Liu Mingyan if she doesn't want him to, which she appreciates. She eventually admits to him that she likes her, and though she was married to Luo Binghe, she wouldn't mind spending time romancing Liu Mingyan. Shen Yuan figures that since the two are in a harem (he hadn't married in yet), it isn't wrong for wives to love each other. Though, it turns out that was actually quite modern thinking, since it was expected for harem members to only dedicate themselves to their husband.

Shen Yuan: "...Eh? Since when do you follow those sorts of rules?"

Sha Hualing: *surprised Pikachu face* "Oh wow, you're right."

So, Sha Hualing askes Liu Mingyan out, and now they are dating while still being married to Luo Binghe, who, as it turns out, didn't care at all whether or not they had sex or dated each other.

When Shen Yuan receded from his friendship with Liu Mingyan upon starting to think he might actually be Shen Jiu, she's the one who motivated Liu Mingyan to try speaking with him. He told Mingyan about the dream and the truth, and they both stopped talking for less than a week before apologizing to each other. Sha Hualing calls them both foolish later on, and Shen Yuan gripes at her, who gripes right back.

Also, unbeknownst to Shen Yuan, Sha Hualing is part of the reason why Ning Yingying hasn't come back to talk to him again. Sure, Sha Hualing is a demon who betrayed her family to have power with Luo Binghe, but that's a demon's way. She teases Ning Yingying, calling her more like a demon than a human, which is an otherwise friendly jab, but, like with Shen Yuan's limbs, stabs close to home a tad too much.

So, it turns into a genuine fight, with Ning Yingying saying how she didn't like what Sha Hualing did to her own father, but Sha Hualing just says the equivalent of, "Hey pot, I'm the kettle. But at least I'm honest about it," which actually does kinda rub Sha Hualing the wrong way.

As of the crowning ceremony, Sha Hualing is friendly antagonistic toward Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe, dating Liu Mingyan, and mildly dismissive toward Ning Yingying.

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4: here

[reallyromealone]

hello if it's not much of a bother I'd like to request a bonten fic where they forget their lover's birthday, like he prepared their favourite food and even decorated their house but bc they had to deal w something important at work they forgot his birthday and even arrived home late. just pure angst pls (totally not bc of my nearing bday) have a great day/night!

It was supposed to be a happy day.

"Why am I even decorating for my own birthday?" (Name) mumbled teary eyed as he glanced at the clock it was a quarter to midnight already.

He made their favorite food on HIS birthday, he always put so much effort for them and they couldn't even attend an event he had to put together, hell Kokos birthday was all out!

(Name) wiped the tears away and tossed the food in the trash, the concept of it all sickening as he went to the guest bedroom, staring off to the wall "happy fucking birthday..."

It was three am when Bonten returned home, exhausted "what were we supposed to do again?" Rindō asked a little tipsy, the men having a few drinks at the business meeting "oh shit.." Mochi said wide eyed, immediately sobering up as they took in the penthouse, half torn decorations and thrown out food "shit..."

(Name) had locked himself in the guest room, the men knowing better than to try and break in.

Come morning (name) was silent as he came out of the guest bedroom, looking like he just survived a tornado with teary eyes and fixed himself a glass of (preferred drink) and paid none of them any mind "baby?" Ran asked the man who sat on the couch and stared at the tv that wasn't on "were sorry" Rindō said earnestly and the others nodded in agreement.

"Y'all can go fuck yourselves" (name) said simply, surprising Bonten as (name) was never the one to swear "how fucking come I am setting up MY OWN BIRTHDAY AND MAKING FOOD YOU SELFISH ASSHOLES WANT ON A DAY ABOUT ME?! SERIOUSLY WHAT KIND OF "LOVING HUSBANDS" MAKES THEIR OWN HUSBAND PUT TOGETHER HIS OWN BIRTHDAY AND THEN EXPECT HIM TO PUT THEIR PARTY TOGETHER?!" (name) was furious at this point, all his rage bubbling up to the surface as he stood up "baby calm--""don't tell me to calm down! I'm fucking furious!"

(Name) pushed them away and stomped off "we were busy!" Kakucho tried explaining "funny how you guys are always busy when it's stuff relating to me, my birthday, meeting my parents, any time I got sick... Hell our anniversary! I'm never a priority unless you guys need a good fuck!" (Name) was done as he grabbed his keys "call me when you assholes get your shit together" (name) said storming out, leaving Bonten alone.

"Oh we really fucked up" Koko said as the others nodded as a wave of realization washed over them that this may have been the final straw.

And they didn't even realize until it was too late.

[major-mads]

Chapter 3: Listen to Your Heart

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: I'm so glad y'all are enjoying the series!! Thank you so much for reading!! Us Callum girlies sure got some...cough cough...quality content in episode four, that's for sure! Let me know what you think, and go read the other half of the story using the link below!!! this wonderful gif is by @zsuo!

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 4.7k

August 3rd, 1943

Ruthie, Since Saturday night, you have rarely left my mind. I replay the dance in my head, trying to commit every detail to memory. I love being around you, Ruth. I couldn’t imagine the night going any better than it did, and I’m so glad that you stepped outside of your comfort zone to come with me. Curt’s been giving me a hard time about embarrassing you when I sang, but I told him you loved it, even if I sound like a “dying animal” in Buck’s words.  Speaking of Buck, I’ve decided to never let him live down Saturday’s condom incident with Hope. Hugh sure isn’t letting it go, so I can’t help but join in on the fun. Despite that, I think he had a great time with her, even though he’s a total stick in the mud. I can’t believe they didn’t dance, Ruthie! Our dance was my favorite part of the night, besides how we said goodnight, of course.

I would really like to see you again soon, Ruth. It’s no secret that I’m taken with you, and I think you feel the same. We’re spending the next few weeks replacing crews and forts, so we won’t be too busy. If you’re able, please stop by and pay me a visit. At the sight of your sweet, kind smile, and the feeling of your hand in mine, my worries seem to disappear. The only worry left in my mind is that my efforts to convert you to a Yankees fan won’t be successful. I hold onto the hope that you’ll see that the Braves are terrible and that the Yankees are the better team. The Braves went 11 and 18 this past month, and my amazing team went 21 and 11. You can’t argue against stats, slugger. I hope this won’t affect your feelings toward me because then we might have a problem. I can’t wait to see you again soon. Please stay safe up there for me.  Your Hotshot, Johnny Egan

August 6th, 1943

Dear John, I am happy to hear that you and the boys are finally getting a break. When we were at the dance, I knew y’all were exhausted, but you sure didn’t show it, Major. You danced and sang like there was no tomorrow, and I had more fun than I had in a long while in your arms. Don’t worry about what Curt or Buck said. I loved your singing, even if it was slightly off-key and very loud. You might have embarrassed me, but seeing you in your element was worth it.  Every time I think back to that night, my heart begins to race and I can’t help but smile at the thought of you. I’m so very grateful that you decided to bring me along. Somehow you manage to turn me into a giddy, blushing teenager every time you cross my mind. Our kiss is a cherished memory of mine, and forgive me for being forward, but I hope that we can make more of such memories in the future.  Hope had an amazing time with Gale at the dance, and apparently, he wasn’t as much of a “stick in the mud” as you think. I’m sworn to secrecy, but know that they are very fond of each other already. When we got back to Grove the day after the dance, we told Frank what happened with…the incident, and he thought it was hilarious! He even said that he “did his job well,” whatever that means.  I would love nothing more than to come see you, but sadly, I don’t know when I’ll be able. Casualties from Italy are getting worse with the invasion of Sicily underway, and we’ve been on runs almost every day since we got back from the dance. Regardless of this, the first chance we get, Hope and I will make our way up to Thorpe Abbotts.  I can’t wait to see you again, Johnny, but the blatant slander against the Braves might damage your chances of getting another kiss. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on this because I promise you I am not going to be converted. After all, a little friendly rivalry never hurt anyone, right? Don’t hurt yourself falling off your bike during your break. Yours,  Ruth Morgan P.S. I would like to meet Meatball the next time I visit the base!

Sunday, August 8th, 1943: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich

The mess hall buzzed with energy as Buck and Johnny sat at breakfast with Curt, who slowly moved his powdered eggs around on his plate with his fork. 

“I can’t eat this shit anymore,” he groaned, pushing the plate away from him.

John took a slow sip of his “coffee,” raising an eyebrow at the man. “Then don’t eat it.”

“Oh wow,” Biddick quipped. “What a great idea, Bucky. I’d never thought of that.”

The major smirked behind his mug and shot his friend a wink. Buck watched on in amusement, used to the two going back and forth as he and John did.

Leaning his elbows on the table, Curt leaned over the table toward John with a teasing glare. “Have you heard anything from Ruthie? Has she mentioned me? I thought I made a good first impression the other night.”

“Hmm,” Johnny hummed, pursing his lips for a moment before pointing at Biddick. “That’s Nurse Morgan to you, you dodo. I’m surprised you even remember anything from the dance with how drunk you were.”

“Oh I couldn’t forget a face like that,” he chuckled.

John’s eyes narrowed playfully as he clasped his hands together and leaned on the table. “Well it’s a good thing for me that she could forget yours, then,” he clapped back. “And you’re not the one she kissed goodnight.”

Buck rolled his eyes and continued to eat his breakfast as Egan’s loud, wide-mouthed cackle echoed through the mostly quiet mess hall. Curt then turned to Gale with a raised brow. “How about Hope-”

“Nope,” Buck interrupted calmly, raising his cup and taking a sip of his steaming coffee.

The other two men watched him as a tiny grin formed on the Major’s lips. Although he didn’t talk about it much, they could tell Buck had already developed deep feelings for the woman. 

Raising his eyebrows at Curt, John grinned. “Oh boy.”

“You’ve got it bad, Buck,” Biddick laughed, his hand landing on Gale’s shoulder roughly. “You gotten a reply to your letter yet?”

Thinking of the perfectly folded letter from Ruth he’d picked up that morning sitting in his breast pocket, John smiled down at his food, warmth spreading through him at the thought of the blonde. Buck, however, pursed his lips and shook his head at the question.

“I actually haven’t written her yet,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. “I want-”

“What!?” Johnny all but yelled, his eyes widening as coffee almost spewed from his mouth. “Why the hell not, Buck? I already sent one to Ruth and got a response.”

Gale groaned and put down his fork with a clink. “Because of Hugh.”

“Why are you so worried about Charlie?” Curtis asked, wearing a confused expression.

“Because he’s in my squadron. And he’s her brother.”

John pointed and leaned over the table at him. “Hope’s a big girl, Buck. She can make her own decisions. Screw what Hugh says.”

“But-” Gale started but was once again cut off by Bucky.

“He’s gonna hate you even more if he thinks you're leading her on. You not sending Hope a letter isn’t making anything better,” he said, a smirk beginning to tug at his lips as he continued. “On top of the condom situation.” 

John and Curt busted out into chuckles as Buck just groaned, closing his eyes tightly. “Oh, please don’t remind me.”

The ideal chatter was disturbed by the door to the mess hall swinging back on its hinges with a crash, followed by heavy footfall as Hugh all but stormed through the building like a tornado. He snatched a mug off a table and poured himself a steaming cup of black coffee before marching past the trio, staring daggers at Gale who looked up worriedly from his breakfast. 

Curt’s eyes followed the man as he walked in, muttering under his breath, “Speak of the devil.”

"Good morning to you, too, Sparky," John called out with a small wave as he walked by, only to be met with deafening silence from the other pilot. 

Hugh's harsh glare was burning a hole in the back of Gale’s skull and he thought any second now he’d come into his brain and it would be lights out. 

“You’ve really pissed him off this time, Buck, and you didn’t even get his sister into bed,” John laughed heartily, taking a long swig from his whiskey and coffee, it was most likely more whiskey than coffee but Gale humored him. 

“Will you give it a rest? I’m already getting it from Hugh without your added input,” Gale stabbed aggressively at his scrambled eggs, willing the eyes of the room to stop looking at him. 

Curt snorted beside him, waving his fork around. “Well, I’m telling you boys, if I’d have had Hope in my arms and she’d bought condoms with her, let’s just say she wouldn’t have been going back home with them.” 

That was the final straw. 

Gale slammed his fist down on the table, ignoring the way Johnny jumped in his seat, spilling his coffee over the table, and the way several chunks of his scrambled egg disappeared onto the floor.

“You say anymore slander about my girl, Biddick and I swear…”

“Your girl, Buck?” John raised his right eyebrow, an amused smirk on his lips as his mustache twitched. “She’s your girl and you haven’t even written her yet?”

Sometimes Gale wished he could rip that stupid mustache off John’s face, but he kept his cool. 

It would seem that Hugh had heard the whole commotion. His chair screeching back from the table, he stomped up between the tables once more, his glare never leaving Gale until the door slammed shut behind him. 

Buck groaned, unsure if it was in relief or at the impending doom that he was likely to suffer if this debacle continued. Without a second thought, he excused himself from the table, ignoring the calls of protest from John and Curt, and hurried after Hugh. 

“Hugh! Hugh, wait up. Please, I want to talk to you,” Gale jogged after the tall brunette whose face turned sour the instant he noticed him.

The door quickly closed behind him, and Curt looked at the major across from him with a guilty expression. “I was just joking, Bucky. I would never-”

“Ahh don’t worry about it,” John said as he sipped on his coffee. “He knows that. Like you said, Buck’s got it bad and this thing with Hugh has been eating at him since Saturday.” 

Biddick nodded to himself, his eyes lingering on the door. “Do you think Hugh’ll let it go?”

“For Buck’s sake, I do…I think he will. Doesn’t mean I won’t still rag Buck about it, though.” 

“Yeah,” Curt mumbled, staring down at his plate.

Neither man spoke for a few moments, each lost in their thoughts until Bucky wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. “I’ve got a letter to write. See you later, Curt.”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day,” Biddick replied. “Bucky Egan writing a love letter. Looks like Buck isn’t the only one who’s got it bad.”

John tugged his white-fleece jacket back into place and chuckled at his friend. “Don’t go all soft on me.”

“I think it suits you, John. Really,” he urged, a soft smile on his lips. “You seem happier.”

Staring at him for a moment, Bucky didn’t quite know how to respond. He felt happier. He had something to look forward to other than getting drunk at the bar or the adrenaline rush he got when the sound of .50 cal brownings echoed through his fort. John placed his cap back on his head, and with a curt nod, turned toward the door.

His tie suddenly became too tight around his throat as he pushed through the doors into the cool English air, and he quickly loosened it, letting it hang limply as he took a deep breath. In that moment, John Egan had a profound realization.

Since he came over to England in May, he had been simply going through the motions, replaying the same days over and over: Wake up…Fly forts…Bomb targets…Get drunk…Show a woman a good time…then start the cycle again the next day. For someone with such a passionate personality, he lacked the feeling that he so deeply desired. Curt could vouch for this, being the one to knock some feeling back into him a few months back on the wing of Mugwump.

But since that day in July when the nurses landed on their small base in East Anglia, feeling had slowly been creeping back into his life. He first felt it when Ruth caught him staring, and was soon captivated by her dimpled smile and capable personality. The numbness that had become so familiar to him faded into the background when she was near, her laughter shaking free his heart a little more each time it left her lips. 

He was alive with Ruth. More alive than he felt when ME-109s whizzed past him or when flack shook his fort. More alive than when he unbuttoned a woman’s dress and laid her down. More alive than the burning sensation that traveled down his throat when he downed another shot at the bar.

Over the past few weeks, the blonde nurse had somehow burrowed into his jaded exterior and broken down the walls he didn’t even know existed. 

John’s mind reeled as he silently mounted his bike and rode to the base HQ. The ride passed in a blur, and before he knew it, he was sitting at his desk, staring down at the blank sheet of paper before him. He hadn’t had a problem writing her before, so why was this any different?

How was he supposed to convey such profound feelings in a letter?

He started simply, letting his mind imagine her there beside him.

“Dear Ruth.”

Thursday, August 12, 1943: Termini Imerese, Sicily, Italy

“You ready girls!” Frank called over his shoulder, glancing as Hope and Ruth took the stretcher from the medics below them and loaded the last wounded soldier onto the rack. Hope pulled out her flight manifest and checked off the final patient to board. The young boy reached out, grasping her hand. 

“Nurse,” his voice cracking as he tried to grab her attention. He was so young, barely eighteen years old. His bright blue eyes, glossy and hazy, gazed up at her. 

“Yes, My Love,” Hope crouched down, clasping the boy's hand in one of hers while her other brushed away his brunette locks from his face. She tried to stop her eyes from drifting down his body to where only stumps of his legs remained, the burnt flesh wrapped neatly in crisp bandages. 

“You’re an angel,” he whispered and Hope smiled sweetly at him, squeezing his hand. “When I write home, I’m gonna tell my Momma ‘bout you.” 

A single tear trickled down her cheek and she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and watching until he drifted off to sleep. His delicate, young features were no longer etched with worry, and the hard lines across his forehead softened as the morphine began to take effect. 

Hope turned, watching as Ruth comforted one of the other young men further down the plane who had managed to remove some of his bandages. 

“Hey, don’t do that, you need those,” Ruth tutted quietly, helping the Private sit up a little so she could secure fresh, white bandages around his bloody arm. The poor boy grumbled under his breath as Ruth tucked in the end. “Now leave ‘em be, okay?”

The young boy nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his cot. They weren’t the most comfortable racks, just cool metal bars lining the hammock-like beds that swayed as the C-47 rocked through the sky. 

Hope took her seat beside Ruth, who had finished trying to redress the soldier's wounds, smiling briefly at her friend, who wore the same exhausted expression she did.

“I can’t wait to get back to the Grove. I need a warm bath and my bed,” Ruth mumbled, stretching out her aching muscles that screamed against the tension in her body. 

“Oh don’t say that, Rue. We’ve still got to drop these poor boys off at the hospital in Mateur.” Ruth just groaned in response. 

The dance with the boys had been their last outing in a while. It was the last time Hope hadn’t felt completely exhausted. She’d been relaxed, able to let go, and safe in Gale’s arms. 

This trip had been hard. The plane was at full capacity and when they arrived on the airfield at Termini Imerese, Sicily, they were instantly thrown into action. The girls disappeared into the makeshift hospitals that lined the airfield, the white tents flapping in the harsh wind that did little to cool the heat from the scorching midday sun. 

Hope and Ruth conferred with the surgeons, assessing and stabilizing patients that were safe to fly, meaning that many of the young men with head injuries or who had suffered significant blood loss would be unable to fly due to the unpressurized aircraft cabins. Many of the men didn’t have emergency medical tags, so the girls had to make their own assessments for many of the patients. 

The thrumming roar of the C-47’s engine erupting to life always brought a great sense of comfort to Hope, along with an impending sense of fear in unison. This job, while rejuvenating her youth through the exhilarating flights and the lives they saved, aged her with each passing moment spent in the air, because after every successful landing she was left with the feeling that although they had saved lives, they couldn’t save them all. This weighed heavily on both of the women.

Frank and his fellow pilot chatted hastily in the cockpit, their muffled voices cracking through over the radio. As soon as the plane leveled out Hope and Ruth stood, each taking a side of the plane and beginning the checkups on their patients, recording their temperature, pulse, and respiration as well as checking there was no strike through of blood from their dressings. The girls worked quickly, only conferring on their patients' conditions. 

It always amazed Hope how quickly their work changed them, on the flight over Ruth had been once again telling her about the letter she’d received from John. Hope feared she could probably quote Ruth’s letter herself by now, but she never complained, pleased that Ruth was finally coming out of herself. 

Hope had her own letter from Gale tucked into her top overall pocket, over her heart. His words burned into her flesh and she felt as though he was right there beside her all along. 

Having dropped off the soldiers at the large US hospital in Mateur, Tunisia, the C-47 headed home. The mood was somber as the large metal bird rattled its way across Europe towards England. 

Ruth’s eyes had closed about half an hour before, and Hope didn’t have the heart to wake her up. She looked so peaceful, the wrinkles that normally appeared when she smiled were smoothed away, and her blonde locks fell softly from where she had so lovingly pinned them that very morning. 

Hope took Gale’s letter out of her pocket, smoothing out the creases that had poked around the edge of the page. Words of affirmation sprung out at her and a smile was instantly cemented to her lips as she relieved the last moments with him. 

The flight home always seemed quicker, and soon ‘The Angel of Death’ was touching down on the runway. Hope helped a rather sleepy Ruth off the plane and waved goodnight to Frank, who chuckled in amusement at the blonde’s incoherent murmurs, some of them sounding an awful lot like the name of her beloved major.

 “Goodnight Ladies.” 

“Come on, Rue. Let’s get you home,” Hope wrapped her arm around her sleepy friend, leading the way to the Nissan huts they were billeted in. 

Some of the other nurses were still stationed in Africa and so they currently had the hut to themselves. Hope lay Ruth down on the bed, smiling as she snuggled closer into the pillow.

So much for a warm bath…

Hope would rag her about it later, but she couldn’t deny that the stress of the day was getting to her too, but something restless kept her from falling into her own bed. Instead, Hope sat at the small desk in the corner, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. She pulled Gale’s crumpled letter from her pocket, smoothed it flat onto the desk, and began writing her reply.

The following day, the girls finally had a day off, and as much as they wanted to make the trip up to Thorpe Abbotts, the nurses were so exhausted that they barely got out of bed. 

“What time is it?” Ruth groaned, turning onto her side to hide from the bright sun peeking through the curtains. 

Getting no response, she cracked her eyes open, and a smile tugged at her lips at the sight before her. In the corner of the room, Hope’s cheek lay smushed against the desktop, her messy black hair splayed around her as she slept soundly. The corner of a paper could just barely be seen under her hair, and Ruth immediately knew what she’d fallen asleep doing.

Sighing softly, she pulled back her covers and padded over to Hope, wincing at the sting of her feet against the cold floors. “Hope,” Ruth whispered, rubbing the woman’s shoulder gently. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

She awoke slowly, allowing the blonde to sit her up off the desk. “Five more minutes,” Hope mumbled.

Ruth chuckled, the sound echoing through the silent hut. Luckily, Hope’s bed was directly beside the desk, so the smaller woman didn’t have to maneuver her around too much to get her onto the mattress. 

Gently laying her extra blanket over her best friend, Ruth smiled down at her. “There you go. Snug as a bug.”

She then walked over to her bed and snuggled under the covers again, but not before closing their blackout curtains, causing darkness to envelop the room once again. The warmth drew her back into her peaceful slumber, her eyes fluttering closed as her mind repeated Johnny’s latest letter:

Sunday, August 8th, 1943

Dear Ruth, I can’t wait to see you again. I know I said that in my last letter, but I’ve recently discovered that absence actually does make the heart grow fonder. I find myself waiting in anticipation for your letters the moment I send off my own, and I long to see you…to have you here next to me. Hopefully, your missions will ease soon and you’ll finally get a break, too. I understand how tiring it can be to fly day after day, and that’s without even having to take care of patients. Please take care of yourself, alright? As much as I would love to see you, please rest if you get the chance. Don’t worry about me. We’ll see each other soon enough. Today Buck finally wrote Hope back. I tried to tell him how stupid it was to wait, but he was adamant about getting Hugh’s approval. He’s a bigger man than I am, Ruth. Regardless of this, we can never let him live the incident down…ever. In response to your threat to withhold your affection from me, I say bring it on. Like I said before, you can’t argue with facts. The Yankees are the better team, and I’m going to convince you of that, so I cannot agree to disagree. I’m too stubborn to let you win, and if I’m being honest, I don’t know if you’ll be able to resist my charming personality…or the mustache. I know you love the mustache, Ruth. If you decide to follow through on your threat, I’ll shave it off. Just for you. Don’t stand between a man and kisses from his girl. It doesn’t end well for anyone. But it’s like you said, a little friendly rivalry never hurt anyone, right? Please be safe, Ruthie, and know I am thinking of you. Yours, John Egan

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Hope! Ruth! You alive in there?” a voice hollered through the hut’s door, rousing Ruth for the second time that morning. She opened her mouth to reply, but Hope beat her to it. 

“Go away, Frank!” she groaned, covering her ears with her pillow.

“It’s almost noon,” the man chuckled. “I know you’re tired but you both need to get up. We’ve got stuff to do.”

Sitting up abruptly, Ruth grabbed her watch off her small side table, her eyes widening when she read 11:43 am. She looked over to Hope who was also staring at her watch in utter disbelief.

“I haven’t slept in this much since I was a teenager,” Hope muttered under her breath before turning to Ruth, almost breaking into a fit of laughter at the blonde’s wonky curls from the day before. “We look terrible.”

Frank pounded his fist against the door, yelling, “Get up!”

“WE ARE!!” They both hollered back, unable to keep the frustration from lacing their voices.

Throwing off her covers, Hope stood to her feet and marched over to the door, swinging it open. Ruth clamored quickly out of bed to follow her, stopping right behind her shoulder as they glared at Frank. His eyes scanned the women before him, and a grimace appeared on his face at their ragged appearances. 

“Okay,” he started, raising his hands in surrender. “Go back to sleep. You look like shit, and I’d rather do things on the plane by myself than deal with your grumpy attitudes.”

They narrowed their eyes at him. “Nope. We’re awake now,” Hope retorted, smiling sweetly at him.

Sighing, Frank stepped back from the door with a barely concealed smirk. “Meet me at the hardstand.”

As Hope shut the door, Ruth flopped back on her bed, her eyes following Hope’s figure walking across the room to the desk in the corner. “How’s Gale?” she asked, propping her head up with her hand.

Hope began to neatly fold up the letter, smiling softly as she talked over her shoulder. “He’s good. Said he didn’t write because of Hugh causing problems, but he’s got his blessing now.” She turned toward Ruth with dusty pink cheeks, giggling to herself. “He even signed his last letter with ‘your Gale.’”

“Hope!” Ruth squealed, sitting up and covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve someone like Gale, and I’m sure Hugh sees how much he adores you.”

Hope looked down at the letter in her hands, her heart swelling at the thought of the man. “He’s amazing,” she whispered as her eyes traced over his name on the paper. After a few moments, she shook her head, seemingly clearing her thoughts, and raised an eyebrow at Ruth. “How’s John?”

It was now Ruth’s turn to blush, the tips of her ears heating up at the mention of the major. “Great…amazing…wonderful. I feel like I’ve known him so much longer than a few weeks, Hope. You know how I can get sometimes, but when I’m with him, I don’t feel nearly as anxious. And when he kissed me…I wished it could’ve lasted forever. I can’t wait to see him again.”

Sighing softly, Hope plopped down onto her bed. “Look at us, Rue. We’re like a bunch of lovesick teenagers.”

“Yeah, we are,” Ruth giggled, her mind replaying her and John’s laughter, soft touches, and tender looks from the dance. The way he held her face so delicately, how his lips-

“Come on,” Hope called, her mattress squeaking as she got up, breaking Ruth from her thoughts. “Let’s get ready so we can go annoy Frank.”

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[vaspider]

Intro Post, updated March 1, 2023

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[celestialsoyeon]

I would like to order a Woozi sickfic.Maybe there was a virus in the company and as he usually stays late working he got infected because of his low defenses and when he comes home he feels sick but he ignores it and the next day when he gets up he has a fever and an upset stomach but he decides to hide it during the day. But as the day progresses he feels worse and dehydrated because of how much he has vomited so he ends up asking one of the boys for help and they take care of him and take good care of him.

Hiiii! Here's the headcannon you asked for! I'm not sure whether it's good or not, but I did my best! Happy reading, I hope the person who asked this will like it! Love y'all!

Summary: Woozi always works until late at night at his studio at the company. One night, he feels sick while getting back home. He doesn't think much of it and just tries to sleep it off. The next morning, it's even worse, but he tries to hide it until he can't anymore.

word count: 1,72k

content warnings: sickness, obviously, vomiting, fever, dehydration, kinda delirious/half-conscious, needles/IV

Sickie: Woozi

Caretaker: All the other members, especially Mingyu

Jihoon had been staying late basically every single day since the beginning of this week. He had to. If he didn't who would? And he had a lot of work to do, with the upcoming album release coming up at the end of the month. He had no time to waste chilling or sleeping.

He knew he was pushing himself too hard and that he would end up collapsing, but he didn't care. Not when the group's career could be at jeopardy if he decided to be lazy. He couldn't afford to fall back on his work right now, and he kept working until his eyes were drooping.

When he noticed that, he got up and gathered his things, intending to go back home, deciding that it was enough. He raised his head, glancing at the clock. It was 3 A.M.

He was lucky that Seungcheol had fallen asleep as soon as he got back to the dorms, too tired to even keep his eyes open for five more minutes. He hadn't been sleeping a lot lately, too busy taking care of Seungkwan and his recurring nightmares. Otherwise he would've gotten scolded, as every single time Seungcheol saw him coming back so late at night.

He let out a sigh and walked back to the dorm, putting on his jacket. As he was walking back to the dorm, the only place he would be able to sleep peacefully and get some well-deserved rest, he started feeling uneasy. His stomach was hurting him a bit and he felt a bit sick.

He decided to ignore it. There was no way he'd wake up Seungcheol neither Soonyoung just because he had an upset stomach. Maybe sleeping it off would work and tomorrow would be better?

He just went to bed, careful not to wake Soonyoung up. The dancer was fast asleep and waking him up was really the last thing he wanted. Soonyoung wasn't sleeping a lot either, and although it had always been like that since predebut, Jihoon still didn't want to disturb his sleep. He'd rather throw up all night alone in the bathroom than wake up any of the asleep members.

He laid down in bed, looking at the ceiling, struggling to fall asleep. The pain in his stomach grew stronger. "I'll be fine.. I'll be just fine.. no need to worry them.." He whispered. Soonyoung was too deeply asleep to hear him. And Jihoon ended up falling asleep too. He was too exhausted to even think he'd be able to stay awake for much longer anyway. He hugged tightly the plushie Seungkwan gifted him for his birthday last year, and fell into a deep slumber.

A few hours passed before it was time to get up. When the alarm of his phone rang, Jihoon couldn't help but let out a small whimper. His head was killing him after hearing that sound first thing in the morning. And as if it wasn't enough, his stomach was feeling worse than last night, if it was even possible.

He still got up and acted fine when seeing the other members, despite feeling his stomach churning. Seokmin and Mingyu tried to get him to eat something, but Jihoon just said he wasn't hungry and got ready for work. They had vocal practice in the morning, dance practice in the afternoon, it should be fine, right? He would feel better already.

No. No he didn't feel better. If anything, it got worse.

He still tried to hide it and focus on his work throughout the day, but some of the members were already starting to understand that something was wrong with him. Seungcheol came to check on him, but Jihoon still acted as if everything was fine.

Ten minutes later, he was in the bathroom, throwing up his guts out.

He went back to the others, still acting as if everything was fine.

As they practiced the choreography Soonyoung was teaching them, Jihoon felt even worse and went to the bathroom again. He threw up again, and more than once, at that.

He felt feverish and couldn't even drink. This time, he knew he couldn't hide that anymore. He had to tell them. He had to call for someone. But when he tried to get up, he was too weak to do so. He fumbled in his pockets for a moment, looking for his phone, finding it upon seconds.

But another wave of nausea hit him as he was going to dial Seungcheol's number. He threw up again, and after five other excruciating minutes of throwing up, he could finally call for help.

Seungcheol answered at the first ring.

" 'Hoon? Where are you? Are you alright?"

Given the tone of his voice, he was obviously worried. Very worried. Jihoon answered as best as he could.

"I.. Hyung.. I think I'm sick.. I'm not feeling good.."

"Where are you? I'll get you back home okay?"

"Y..yeah.. I'm.. in the bathroom.."

"I'm coming right away, I'll be with Mingyu, we're getting you back home."

The leader addressed the other members.

"Guys, can someone get Jihoon's belongings and call a doctor to come at the dorm. Tell them we'll be there in around... maybe half an hour? If Hoon doesn't get any worse?"

There was some approving responses from everyone, but Jihoon could barely hear them. He felt more and more tired, that was most likely because of the fever, Jihoon knew it was anything but a good sign. He heard the other members' voices but couldn't understand what they were saying.

Mingyu and Seungcheol both ran to the bathroom, arriving soon at Jihoon's side. Mingyu quickly assessed the situation.

"Uh-oh.. that's not good.. We need to lower his body temperature as soon as we can before he gets delirious or even worse, starts having fever-induced seizures. Believe me, you don't want to have to deal with that shit."

Seungcheol nodded, and held Jihoon's body bridal style, getting him to the van. The motion of the car made Jihoon's sickness even worse and they had to pull over twice so he could throw up again. But after what felt like an eternity, they were back home.

Mingyu carefully laid Jihoon in his bed, and checked on him again. He looked dazed and mumbled incoherently when Mingyu was asking him questions, trying to assess how conscious he actually was.

The answer was that he was out of it. His eyes were open, but he paid no attention to what was happening around him. He didn't mind the cold and wet towels put on his neck and on his forehead. He didn't pay attention to Mingyu shaking his shoulders and call his name. He was there, but barely.

The other members were acting swiftly to take care of Jihoon, preparing soup, water, medications, pillows, plushies. Seungcheol had stayed there, sitting down at Jihoon's bedside, a bucket on the ready in case JIhoon was to throw up again.

He didn't. But he was still very feverish. And that got Seungcheol worried to death. He ended up getting up, pacing nervously in the room. Jeonghan and Seokmin even had to get him out of the room, because he was too stressed out.

They didn't want Jihoon to get anxious or anguished on top of being sick. He was already badly sick, that was enough.

The doctor soon arrived, and just as the members, he looked alarmed by Jihoon's condition.

"We really need to lower his body temperature before he ends up having a seizure. And he needs fluids too, and nutrients."

"He can't eat though", Joshua said in a worried voice. "And even the medications would not stay down."

"We'll have to insert an IV line then. If we don't that might endanger him. But you don't have to worry, we can do it here and he will for sure get better as soon as he receives medication and the appropriate care. His condition doesn't require hospitalization. However, I want that guy at full rest for at least a week. He'll need a lot of rest to recover properly. And if he doesn't get better within the next few days, I want him to get checked properly." The doctor said, looking at them with a gentle but firm stare.

Joshua nodded, reassured by the doctor's words. Seungkwan looked horrified to be told that his hyung would need a goddamn needle into his arms, but the other members reassured him that it wasn't that much of a big deal.

Jihoon would be okay. They all were sure of it. After the doctor administered the necessary care, he left, and all the members relayed at Jihoon's bedside. As the hours ticked by, Jihoon got more lucid, he wasn't that out of it anymore. And that soothed a bit Mingyu who, among the members, was by far the most worried.

He had nearly panicked when the doctor said that Jihoon needed an IV, and Wonwoo had to explain to him, just as Joshua had done for Seungkwan, that it wasn't a big deal and that Jihoon would be just fine.

The first night was the hardest one. At first, Jihoon kept throwing up. But when the medications kicked in, it stopped and soon enough, Jihoon could eat a bit of food. Nothing much, but better than nothing.

Mingyu stayed the whole night with Jihoon, refusing to leave his side, too worried. But he hadn't anything to worry about. Not anymore.

The next day, Jihoon started to get better, though he needed a lot of rest. But he didn't have anything to worry about. His friends, no, his family was by his side to help him through it.

Mingyu was cooking for him, Wonwoo and Jeonghan most of the time keeping silent vigil by his side, the BooSeokSoon trio was usually coming to help him not get bored, and he could get Seokmin's hugs as much as he wanted. He usually didn't like physical touch, but when he was sick, he was basically asking hugs from his brothers. And Seokmin was more than happy to give him.

Little by little, he got better, and as he got better, his bond with his fellow members strenghtened even more than it already was. They would be able to return soon, and in good shape, to their not-so-peaceful but happiness-filled life.

[sam-is-my-safe-word]

(K)not for Sale

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) x Soldier Boy (The Boys) Rating: Explicit Tags: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse,  Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Smut, Shameless Smut, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Soldier Boy (The Boys), Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Soldier Boy (The Boys), Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Anal Sex, Knotting, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasm, Aftercare

Word Count: 4,245

Summary: Every six months, Soldier Boy goes into heat. Vought can't afford to let him go without a knot and end up sick - again - so they bring in a compatible alpha to see him through. Whether Soldier Boy or the alpha want it or not.

Notes: PSA time - heed the tags. Non-con/dub-con for a/b/o dynamics. Y'all know the score I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "bend over, I'm not kidding" square.

~~~

Every six months, Dean gets the call. He can pin-point the exact day it will come, even though most omega’s cycles aren’t that accurate. After a decade of calls, his own body starts to respond in the days before it arrives. 

He hates it. 

But you don’t argue with Vought, and when they’d tracked him down, a newly matured alpha at just twenty-two, offers to see Sammy through Stanford and into an excellent law firm had been enough to convince him to sell his knot twice a year. 

And when Sam had graduated and was safely in employment with said excellent law firm, Vought's assurances that Sam could disappear with just a word had kept him compliant. 

Sam knew. He figured it out when the college offers came in with no mentions of scholarships. He’d been furious, but turning down the place wouldn’t have got Dean out of the contract he’d signed. 

And now, ten years down the line, it’s just another fact of life. Death, taxes, and calls from Vought. 

He hates that his body is tied to someone else's like this, a sick parody of a mated couple going into heat and rut together. Hates the exhausting drive, hates NYC, hates Vought Tower and everything that goes on in there. 

But the time spent in a secured room with Soldier Boy… he loves that. 

~~~

The same Vought lackey walks him down the same corridor every time. The jumpsuit they gave him itches, some kind of fancy-pants body armour that looks and feels like normal clothes but will protect him from Soldier Boy ripping his limbs off or something. He didn’t really pay attention when they first brought out the duds. 

The lackey pauses outside the usual door. The way Dean’s body is responding, you’d think the corridor is drenched in the scent of omega-in-heat. But it smells of nothing. This is pure pavlovian. 

The guy is reading from a clipboard. He was just a kid when he started leading Dean down this corridor. They’ve grown up together. Dean wonders if he hates this as much as Dean does. 

“Right, so remember to keep the suit on at all times. Don’t let him have access to any area you want to protect.” 

Dean clears his throat and when the man looks up, he gives his crotch a long, pointed look. 

“Any area I’d want to protect? Like my cock, you mean?” 

That gets him a half-smile. 

“Oh, no, he wants that part of you. Just anything else you want to keep. Arms, legs, guts on the inside, y’know.” 

Dean wills his stare to incinerate the other man, but he didn’t get the Supe gene and the man just shrugs, the ‘your choice’ as plain as day. 

“Okay, see you in twelve hours. Have fun.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. 

The door opens, not revealing the sparse room Dean knows is beyond, but an ante-chamber of sorts. It’s decorated in the same bland, beige colours as the corridor. Dean thinks it should be all white and medical sterile. It serves a similar purpose as a decontamination chamber, except it’s one way. Keep what’s on the inside, inside. 

No scent gets out, no sounds, certainly not a semi-feral Soldier Boy. 

The door behind him shuts and Dean feels the vibration as deadbolts the size of his forearm lock into place. The inner door won’t open until he presses the large green button on the wall. But once he does, it’s twelve hours with no escape.

He takes a deep breath. It’s not difficult after so long, but there is still a headspace he needs to get into before he enters the room. 

Dean needs his omegas willing as a bare minimum. If he has a choice past that, he likes them to be small, frisky blonde women that give as good as they get and leave him walking funny the next day. Or guys bigger than him that bend over beautifully and call him daddy. And he doesn’t treat his partners meanly. Doesn’t call them names and say cruel things. 

But this, here. This isn’t sex. He isn’t wanted here. He doesn’t want to be here. This is a battle. He has to be faster, smarter, and trickier than his opponent. Otherwise he’ll end up dead. And what happens to Sammy if Dean isn’t here to sell his soul knot? 

In the early days, Dean tried to be understanding. He tried to treat Soldier Boy with the same kindness he’d treat any other omega in his bed. It earned him two broken arms and a shattered orbital socket. 

He didn’t attempt kindness again. 

Feeling like an overgrown baby in a onesie, he pops open the split in the crotch of his jumpsuit. The panels of fabric that now hang loose get attached to the legs by more button popper things. 

He’s gone from overgrown baby to assless chaps - almost. But it gets the important bits accessible without compromising any of the squishy bits he wants to keep in his stomach, thanks. The fact that his cock is a sometimes squishy part that he really wants to keep seems to go over Vought’s head. 

He’s already hard, pre-cum running down the length to soak the skin and trimmed hair at the base. He jacks himself a few times then rubs his hands together to get the scent on them. Soldier Boy will respond a little better if Dean smells excessively alpha. 

Another deep breath. Just twelve hours and he can go back to his hotel, take a blisteringly hot shower and drive home. Go back to his life for five months and three-point-five weeks. 

He presses the button on the wall. 

~~~

The room where Soldier Boy is waiting is a cold white colour. Dean has wondered more than once if Vought just repaints it instead of trying to clean the blood off the walls as needed. 

There’s no furniture, just a mattress against one wall. Dean knows that it gets tossed out after one use. 

It’s not a very large room. Probably for safety. If Soldier Boy got up some momentum, he could probably bust through a wall or something. Best to give him less space. 

The space is absolutely saturated with the scent of heat pheromones and slick. It overpowers the scent of Soldier Boy’s fury. Dean can’t even smell himself over it. He hopes Soldier Boy can, otherwise this is going to be a nasty fight before the omega submits. 

As always, Soldier Boy is facing away from the door, completely naked and staring at a blank wall. Dean can see the camera in the corner, knows Soldier Boy is completely in frame, but he’s never worked out if Soldier Boy is watching the lens or just staring at the wall. The muscles in his broad back twitch randomly, and every so often a shiver makes its way down his spine and the smell of slick gets even stronger for a few seconds. 

“You gonna play nice this time, Omega?” 

“Fuck you.” 

This call and response has been happening since Dean got a new metal bone in his face and hardened his heart to everything that goes on in this room. 

“We both know that isn’t how this is gonna go down.” 

Soldier Boy’s shoulders are shaking now, a sign of his anger. 

“Fuck. You.” 

Dean cracks his neck. He always hopes Soldier Boy will just submit and make it easier on both of them. But he always prepares for the fight. 

“C’mon, the quicker you show me that ass, the quicker this will all be over and you can get back to burning down orphanages or whatever the hell you Supes do.” 

That gets Soldier Boy to turn, to try and stare Dean down, even though they’re the same height. 

Dean takes the opportunity to look Soldier Boy over, starting at his feet and moving upwards. Tense legs, trembling thighs - slick coating the inner skin. The usual. Diamond-hard cock, flushed deep red, drooling pre-cum that Dean longs to lap up. Also usual. He’s flushed red from his chest to his temples, a mixture of the heat and his anger. His bangs are plastered to his forehead with sweat. Three for three, full steam ahead, captain. 

Dean has seen Soldier Boy in action on the TV, in the green suit and gold shield. In front of a camera, he always looks perfectly put together, hair shiny and styled into soft waves, bangs that hang artfully over his forehead. It’s a far cry from the panting, sweating omega that stands before him now. 

Soldier Boy takes a step forwards. Dean crouches just a little, gets ready. 

“Leave. You’re not fuckin’ needed here.” 

“Aww, c’mon, Omega. You'll hurt my feelings. We both know you’re desperate to bend over for an alpha.” 

Another step, but Soldier Boy doesn’t stop at one. He keeps walking until he’s nose to nose with Dean. 

“Never.” 

His lip curls in disgust, but Dean can smell the fresh wave of slick. 

“Always. Always, little Omega. You can shout all you want, but you always end up begging in the end.” 

Dean leans in, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Bend over, I’m not kidding.”

Soldier Boy crashes into him like a linebacker. It’s more luck than any kind of planning or judgement that they land on the mattress and not the floor. Even heat-weak and from a standing start, he still feels like a Mack truck smashing into Dean. 

Soldier Boy winds up straddling Dean, both trying to grip the other's wrists. The constant shifting rubs their cocks together perfectly and Dean stills with a hiss. Soldier Boy freezes, face screwed up to hold back his moan. 

He recovers a fraction quicker than Dean and manages to get Dean’s wrists in one hand. He raises his other arm, fist clenched. Dean might be about to get another metal bone in his face. For just a second, he wonders if Vought will pay to replace his whole skull or just leave him to die and find a new alpha. 

He thrusts his hips up sharply, causing Soldier Boy to freeze again. Pulling up his knees, he thrusts again, throwing Soldier Boy off balance, pitching him off Dean’s hips. 

Dean scrambles to get off his back, get his knees under him, get the higher ground. 

Soldier Boy tries to turn onto his back, get his legs up to kick Dean away. But Dean’s alpha pheromones are draining the fight from him now. His omega is taking over, making him pliant. 

Dean shoves him face down with both hands on a shoulder. Even completely flat on his stomach, Soldier Boy’s ass looks incredible. Dean can’t wait to see him present properly. 

For now, though, he lays himself over Soldier Boy, chest to back. His cock slots perfectly in between Soldier Boy’s ass cheeks and is coated in slick within seconds. He can’t help rocking his hips, just to feel the glide. The body under him shudders violently. 

“That’s it. You’ve had your little bitch fit, but this is where you want to be, isn’t it.” 

Soldier Boy tries to rise on his elbows, but with Dean skin to skin, he’s unable to fight his omega anymore. Dean’s own alpha is snarling to fuck and claim. Dean rubs his neck against the sweaty skin of Soldier Boy’s shoulder, smearing his pheromones as close to Soldier Boy’s nose as he can get them. Soldier Boy’s arms shake and he faceplants on the mattress again. Dean catches a whisper that could be ‘Alpha’. 

“Yeah, say my name.” 

Dean doesn’t think Soldier Boy even knows his first name, but Alpha is close enough. 

“I don’t know why you fight every time. You could just bend this ass over and we’d have a good time.” 

Dean drives his point home with another thrust, drawing a bitten-off moan from the Supe under him. 

“Fuck you.” 

It’s mumbled into the mattress, but Dean can still hear the lack of bite in the words. 

“You know you don’t really want that, Omega. This sweet ass is just begging for my cock, begging to be knotted.” 

The base of Dean’s cock is starting to ache in the best way. He’s past ready to fuck and knot the omega in front of him. 

“You gonna present for me like a good omega or are you gonna get fucked on your belly like a bitch?” 

Dean doesn’t even see Soldier Boy move, but the back of his skull smashes into Dean’s face, breaking his nose and spraying blood everywhere. 

“Not. A. Fucking. Bitch.”

The words are spat from behind gritted teeth, but they just don’t have the rage anymore. It’s a token effort, one last act of defiance. Dean is still going to need to see a doctor to get his nose reset… again. He’s still blinking away tears. He can still feel the bruising that’s going to come up around his eyes. He’s still dripping blood into his mouth and into Soldier Boy’s hair. He’s still furious. 

“Fuck! Fucking asshole.” 

It takes some effort and shuffling to get up on his knees, but he manages to pull both of Soldier Boy’s arms behind his back and cross his wrists so Dean can hold them in one hand. It helps that Soldier Boy has gone mostly limp and compliant now. 

“Get on your fucking knees.” 

He uses his free hand to push on Soldier Boy’s ass. 

“Up! On your knees. Fucking present, Omega.” 

Soldier Boy shifts, pulling his knees up under him. 

“Look at you, all bent over like a good bitch.” 

Dean hisses the last word, lets his fury colour it. Soldier Boy twists in the grip Dean has on his hands, but it’s weak. Dean can hold him.

“Ah ah ah, you’re gonna stay where I put you, Omega.” 

Dean reaches down to stroke his cock, getting ready to line himself up. He can’t smell himself over Soldier Boy’s pheromones and the scent of slick, but the omega must be able to smell him, or at least the scent of fresh pre-cum, and shivers, trying to suppress a whine. 

“You be as loud as you want, I wanna hear you beg for my knot.” 

Dean lines up and pushes in. It’s tight and wet and hot and perfect. He doesn’t stop until he’s as deep as he can go, thighs pressed tight to Soldier Boy’s ass. Soldier Boy who is now shaking from head to toe and still trying to hold back his moans. 

But Dean doesn’t have to hold back anything. He can groan and curse as much as he wants. 

“Fuck. So tight, Omega, so good.” 

He forces himself to hold still, to not pull out and slam back inside, to make Soldier Boy squirm and beg. And squirm Soldier Boy does, hips undulating back and forth in an effort to make Dean move. It’s tempting, so very tempting. But Dean’s pissed about his nose and he’s going to hear the omega beg. 

Soldier Boy holds out for more than a minute, a whine building in his throat. Dean wants to put his hands there, just to feel the vibration. But just like Dean knew he would, Soldier Boy breaks. 

“Please.” 

His jaw is clenched so tight, the word is almost garbled beyond recognition, but Dean knows what it means. 

“That’s it. Beg for it.” 

Dean rewards Soldier Boy by pulling out and thrusting deep again. 

“Alpha!”

“Yeah. This what you need? An alpha to put you in your place? Big powerful Supe, huh. Out there. This is what you need, though, isn’t it. Need to be bent over like a fucking bitch.” 

“Fuck you, you worthless kn- don’t stop.” 

“Not gonna stop. Not 'til you’re hanging off my knot. If they could see you now. So fucking full of yourself in public, begging on your knees in here.” 

“Alpha. Please. Gonna, gon-” 

Soldier Boy freezes and then goes lax, the scent of omega cum filling Dean’s nose, even over the blood.

“Fuck. Get so damn tight cumming on my cock. You like this, huh? All that strength, those special Supe powers. But you’re on your knees for me, a random alpha you don’t even know. Better hope there isn’t some new intern manning the camera room today, recording the feed so he can jerk off to it every night.” 

Soldier Boy goes tense. 

“Ohhh, that scares you, doesn't it? I bet whoever's watching is tugging themselves raw at the sight of you. Face down, ass up. Begging for my knot while you cum all over yourself again and again.” 

“You wish- Oh, god. Bet I’m the only one that’ll - fuck - have your knot and that’s by force, motherfu-uck-” 

Another orgasm grips the omega and by extension Dean. 

“You keep cumming on it, though, can’t hate it that much. You better hope this doesn’t get out, don’t want the world to see you begging to be bred.” 

The mention of breeding makes Dean’s knot start to swell and makes Soldier Boy groan. 

“Please. Alpha… please.” 

Dean’s an inch from cumming, so close he can taste it. 

“Can you even breed? Ten years I’ve been filling up your cunt, I’ve never got a ‘congratulations, daddy’ call.”

The omega whimpers. 

“Do they keep you dosed? Or did they have you spayed?” 

A twitch tells him it’s the latter. Something about the knowledge that one of the most powerful men in the world can be rendered societally worthless while Dean is whole sends fire up his spine.

“Makes sense. Can’t have you ruining the Supe genes any further, can they.” 

Right there, right fucking there. His lip curls with malice. 

“But damn, a disgrace to Supes by being an omega and a disgrace to omegas by being barren. Wouldn’t want your life. But hey, at least you get my knot to look forward to.” 

Soldier Boy tenses up on another orgasm, a sob breaking out at the same time, and Dean follows him over the edge. His knot swells fully and ties them, cock pumping gush after gush of cum deep inside the omega. 

As the initial high of his orgasm wears off, Dean guides them down to the mattress - away from the wet patches of slick and cum - and arranges the limp omega on his side, with Dean pressed against his back. 

They’ll be tied for a little while yet, so Dean closes his eyes, tries to fight off the nausea welling up at what he just said. Soldier Boy brings out cruelty he didn’t know he had. 

Deep, even breaths from the man almost - but not quite - in his arms. Soldier Boy will sleep until his heat flares again. At least Dean doesn’t have to look him in the eye. 

He busies himself running his hand over as much bare skin as he can. From the way Soldier Boy melts at Dean’s touch, Dean doesn’t have to be a genius to work out that he’s touch-starved beyond belief. It's part of why Vought brings him in at all. Dean can’t imagine anyone but him getting close enough to touch Soldier Boy, much less try to comfort him. So he tries to give everything he can in these quiet times between knottings and then leaving. Hopefully his touch lingers for a little while and brings some peace to the man. 

Dean wasn't joking when he said he hates everything about this place and everything that goes on in here, but he doesn’t hate the time locked in this room. Not just for the sex, but so he can have these quiet moments and delude himself that he makes a difference in Soldier Boy’s life, a tiny little difference. That he does some good instead of just bringing the man low with cruel words and a knot he never asked for. 

He knots Soldier Boy a few more times, but it’s little more than fucking a fleshlight. The first time is explosive and violent. After that, omegas just need the sensation of a knot and fresh alpha cum to soothe the heat. 

Or so Dean assumes. Soldier Boy is the only omega he’s ever seen through a heat and it’s been this way from the start. The only thing he knows for sure about omega heats is that without an alpha to knot them, they get sick. If they go long enough, they get really sick. The first time Dean was brought to Soldier Boy was proof of that; already unconscious when Dean was shoved into the room, it was the closest this thing had ever felt to true rape. But Dean had no choice, the scent of the half-dead omega had made his alpha feral. He was as much in control of his body as Soldier Boy at that point.

Past that, he’s flying blind. 

He knows Sam is working with some research group to get funding and approval to try and formulate synthetic alpha cum so omegas won’t need to rely on alphas anymore. Maybe one day, the calls will stop and Dean and his cruel words will be forgotten entirely. 

Eventually Soldier Boy cools to a normal temperature and his breathing shifts to real sleep instead of semi-consciousness. Dean’s knot shrinks for the last time and he can pull out. He could leave now, pace around like a caged animal until the door unlocks. 

But he doesn’t. He stays pressed to Soldier Boy’s back, running his hand along now-clammy skin, trying to leave a memory of his touch there. He tries to ignore that he’s smearing the drops of his own blood along the way.  

As much as this whole situation - Soldier Boy himself, even - brings out the worst in Dean, when it’s over, it brings out the protective side of him. Maybe it's part of being an alpha seeing an omega through heat, or maybe it’s just a part of Dean himself. The man never asked to be born an omega, never asked to be born a Supe, and never had a choice about his life. Dean can relate. 

The hiss of the ante-chamber door makes Dean startle. Time to go. 

He pulls away from Soldier Boy, who curls into himself a little as the air replaces Dean’s body heat. Keeping his hand on the man’s arms as long as possible, Dean gets to his knees. 

“Stay safe out there, Ben. See you next time.” 

He doesn’t look back, just lets the ante-chamber door close behind him while he redoes the poppers on the stupid crotch flap of the jump suit. Whoever watches the cameras has seen enough of his dick and he’s not going to walk back to the ‘dressing room’ where his clothes are with everything hanging out. 

Being suddenly cut off from Soldier Boy’s scent leaves him reeling. He can still smell the slick on the fabric over his thighs, but mostly he can just smell his cum, his sweat, and the blood now dried on his face. He wrinkles his nose at the way he stinks and his whole face throbs with pain. Vought better get him a doctor before he leaves. They owe him. 

The same lackey is waiting in the corridor. They don’t speak on the way back. 

~~~ 

“-even breed? Ten years I’ve been filling up your cunt-” 

Ben is still locked in the fuck-room, as he’s nicknamed it. 

Vought won’t let him out until he’s been out of heat for a full one hundred and twenty hours. The fact that his heat breaks and finishes before they even let the alpha leave never seems to get through to them. Idiots. 

They give him food, water, and access to the camera feed. That’s it. Like he’s a fucking prisoner. 

So he watches the camera feed, again and again. 

It disgusts him. 

Seeing himself on the screen, bent over and begging, makes him want to hurl. He fights so hard - against his biology, his desires, his own omega. And this fucking nobody alpha gets picked off the street by Vought and cuts through it all. Strips him of everything that’s Soldier Boy, even everything that’s Ben, and leaves him a panting, needy mess, nothing but instinct and omega. 

The alpha meets Ben’s fury with his own cruelty, though, and it’s exactly what Ben needs. He fights and he’s overpowered. He can just about accept that; he can give in to his omega knowing the alpha earned him. 

He stops the tape as the alpha moves to lay him down after the first knotting. He can’t watch this part. He’d have to hunt the alpha down and murder him, and then Vought would have to find a new alpha and they wouldn’t be anywhere near as good. 

He pulls up his email. The message won’t be sent until his laptop is allowed back online but that’s okay. It’ll get there. 

‘Winchester, 

Regarding your attendance at our bi-annual meeting. Your performance was somewhat lacking, as always. I expect to see improvement by our next meeting. 

Much obliged for your continued collaboration.’ 

~~~

A few days later, when Dean is back on his side of the country and elbow deep in Baby’s engine, getting her spic and span after two cross country treks, his phone beeps. 

He wipes his hands on a rag and pulls out his phone. A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. 

A thank you from Soldier Boy is almost double-speak, but Dean can decode. 

It’s nice to be appreciated.

[carolmunson]

feelin' mighty fine

rockstar!eddie x actress!reader

inspired by: merry christmas, baby part of carol's christmas song blitz a/n: this is a heavily reworked version of the opening for chrismtas '97 in the rockstar!eddie au. it just wasn't working in the story so i'm making it it's own standalone! you don't have to know much about my rockstar!eddie au to enjoy it -- but just know, you're a famous actress married to rockstar eddie munson and have twins - van and violet, they're about three here. would recommend listening to the song before or during reading to catch the vibe.

cw: 18+, brief smut mention/description, dad!eddie, parenthood, some swearing?, brief alcohol mention. minors dni 4eva. fluff, fluff, fluff.

December 23rd, 1997 - Chicago Stadium

It was the last night of tour before the four of you, exhausted, would travel back to Indiana. It's a short flight, but getting the kids on a jet at midnight didn't sound like the Christmas Eve Eve plans you wanted to make. The twins were fussy backstage, the nanny long sent home earlier that morning since they'd have Wayne and everyone else to help you in Hawkins.

It was half way through the set and the kids should've been sleeping but they wanted to watch from the wings with you, Vi in your arms and Van by your feet -- both safe in headphones made to fit them perfectly to block out the sound. As the song ends and the crowd screams, you can see Eddie running toward you backstage, pulling his guitar from over him with a tech rushing by you to retrieve it. He only has a minute or two while Jeff works the crowd but he never wastes it. His skin shines with sweat, tattoos glimmering over his arms and chest.

"Hey, you havin' fun?" he doesn't wait for an answer, pulling you in from the back of then neck to kiss you. His mouth is cold from the water he's been drinking, he tastes like the faint twang of tequila from the flask in his back pocket. A hint of his mid-show cigarette lingers on his lips.

"Are you having fun, sleepy girl?" he asks Violet, she giggles and hides in the curls that match her dad's, "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

He looks down, seeing Van nearly jumping out of his little leather jacket to have his dad pick him up, "Shouldn't you be in bed, too?"

Eddie scoops him up, smattering his face in kisses -- Van shrieks in laughter so Violet laughs, too. Never one to miss out on kisses, she reaches for her dad desperately before Eddie pops her onto his free hip. He double fists the twins like he used to double fist bottles of Don Julio.

"Honey, you gotta go," you urge, you notice the tech waiting with Ed's other guitar by the wings.

"Okay, okay, sorry -- one more kiss, okay?" he nods to the twins, pressing a kiss to each cheek before placing them back down on the fold out chairs next to you.

"And one more for mommy," he swoons, slinging the new guitar over his shoulder. You roll your eyes and let him smooch you all sloppy, he grins like you just met when he's done. Ed tosses you a wink before rushing out to the stage where he starts to talk into the mic about what's coming up. The tech rushes by you again with Santa hats in his hands -- running onto the stage to pass them out to Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and the rest of the band.

"Now normally we don't do this shit, we like to keep it a lil' scary here -- but it is Christmas time so, I wanted to play a little somethin' special. Y'all know Otis Redding?" Eddie asks. You beam, you know exactly what he's about to get the band to play. The crowd screams, barricades straining against them while they bounce and jump.

"I wanted to introduce some fellas on brass who are comin' to join us for this number," Eddie puts his hand back to reference a small brass band stepping onto the platform next to Gareth's drum set, "Give 'em a 'round of applause for me."

The applause is rauccus and the brass players wave sheepishly from their platform. You guess it's not often that they're playing with a band that used to be in the news for 'promoting Satan's music'. Especially not with someone with a reputation as sordid as Eddie's.

As the horns begin to play, Eddie puts on his Santa hat and gets close to the mic, "This song's called 'Merry Christmas, Baby', I'm sure most of ya know it. But it was my mama's favorite -- she used to wear that record out so much that my daddy had to buy it for her twice. So this is for my mama, and all the mama's that are out there tonight."

He winks towards the camera that fed out to the screens for the back seats, sending the women in the crowd to their knees. Their screeches nearly drowned out the opening chords.

Eddie's voice has a gruffness that meets the songs needs, Jeff's joining his in a playful duet. As the intro finishes, they both trade their shrill riffs for a funky bass lines and twangs to match the energy from the brass.

"Well I'm feelin' mighty fine y'all, got my music on the raay-di-oooo..." Eddie sings with a smile, his eyes closed against the bright lights. There's a lightness about him that his fans rarely see, something soft, something you get to see at home. Like when the babies would fall asleep on his chest.

"Feel like I wanna kiss ya, babe, standin' underneath that mistletoe..." he drawls, and you can see his head turn to try and peer at you behind the curtain. A silent dedication. He'd kiss you all the time if he could.

The crowd claps in time with the beat. You can see the gleams of painted nails and rings, silver bracelets, and leather arm cuffs glinting in the light of the first three rows. There was an air of genuine surprise that the crowd was singing the lyrics with them, but the holidays infect everyone. Even 'god damn delinquents', as put so delicately by the venues owner.

"Sure did treat me nice, said you bought me all those presents, and I feel like I'm in paradise..."

And overwhelming wave of nostalgia hits you as they reach the music breakdown, remembering what it was like before the kids were born. How things felt before you got married. You'd wait in his dressing room, watching the feedback on the TV in the corner, eating the snacks and drinking the champagne he'd get for you on his rider. He'd come back at the end of the show, dripping in sweat, vibrating from all the coke, chugging a bottle of Jack Daniels.

The grizziliness of him was so fucking hot at the time he didn't even have to ask you to bend over the couch. He'd rail into you so hard you could barely breathe, hand entwined in your hair, dampening your shirt when he pressed you against his slick chest.

"Been thinkin' about you all night. This tight fucking pussy," he'd grunt, whiskey might as well have been seeping out of his pores. But he was so different now. So straightened up. So present.

He was clean long before the twins were born, but something changed in him when they came. He was so alive again. Just so fucking happy to be there.

"Please give another round of applause for our brass band over here!" Eddie's announcement sends you right back to reality. The crowds cheers scream through the venue again and you instinctively cover your ears. You watch the brass band wave and bow, stepping down off the platform off the stage while the rest of the band hypes them up.

"That was fun, wasn't it folks?" Eddie asks, "So I guess we'll get back to--"

You're confused at the sudden shrill of shrieks from the crowd.

"Oh, you guys know Van? He's our new guitarist -- this is actually Jeff's last show," you hear Eddie's laugh boom over the speakers. You look down to the horror of only seeing one child next to you, who is now off her chair and inching towards the stage.

"You wanna play a chord, buddy?" you hear Jeff's voice say, the crowd cheers again. You look up at one of the screens, Van perched in his uncle Jeff's arms while he leans down to strum the strings. The crowd whoops and giggles while Jeff puts his hand over Van's tiny one and helps him play a real chord. Eddie claps, eyes shining with pride, the crowd goes absolutely insane- Van! Van! Van! Van! Your son hides, embarrassed at the attention -- always one to be shy, burying himself in the crook of Jeff's neck.

"Violet baby, come here," you coo over to her, taking a step. But that step makes her book it -- and god are they fast at 3, "Shit, fuck."

"Oh-ho-ho, wow, my little lady of the hour," Eddie laughs while she runs right into his legs, knocking herself to the ground softly, "You've all met Violet, right?"

You watch him pick her up, her soft and excited, "Daddy -- Santa!" echos through the stadium.

"Hi, baby! That's right, daddy looks like Santa!" he parentese's excitedly, placing her on his hip. He looks over his shoulder to see you crouched down, tip toe-ing quickly across the stage mouthing a guilt 'sorry' his way. He grins expectantly, his perfect show girl in her stretch pants and sweatshirt. Her clean white sneakers. "There she is -- I'm sure you folks know the wife."

You wince at first and then wave while the crowd thunders at the sight of you hurrying over to Jeff to scoop up Van. Your eyes squint against the lights, the only thing you can see in the crowd are the little flames from lighters being waved by fans. The venue shakes at their applause and you're almost embarrassed by the attention -- but not too much. What's this but another red carpet? The only difference is that you never go on stage -- the last time being just after you got married so Eddie could gush about his 'for real this time' wife.

"Mama," Van whined, hands outstretched and grabby over Jeff's shoulder while he climbs into your chest. You hoist him up to make room for Violet who at first, doesn't want to go, making Ed so close to cancelling the rest of the show to cuddle her before you're finally able to wrench her out of his arms. Their heads bobble with their headphones on, snuggling up against you.

You turn to leave, but he taps you on the shoulder, still speaking into the mic, "You forgetting something?"

You look at him confused, you have both babies with you, "What?"

"You gotta pay the toll, baby," he shrugs, his smug grin making you blush. The crowd roars, they love when he's a little bit of a bastard. He looks you over, tongue running over the inside of his cheek, "Can't let you go without paying the toll."

You let out an audible sigh, facial expression playing to the cheap seats so everyone knows just how fake exasperated you are with him. You lean in and his kiss is lewd and wet over the twin's heads, the clicks of spit sounding over the speakers. He scrunches his nose at you when he breaks away, a boyish blush blooms on his cheeks.

"Thank you," he smiles, "You're free to go."

"Okay babies, you gotta wave bye to daddy's friends!" you say softly to Van and Vi as they look at the crowd.

"Say bye-bye," Eddie says gently, mimicking a wave so they'll copy. They wave over your shoulder while you walk back stage, sitting down on the fold up chairs with them both on your lap.

"Alright folks, sorry for the cutest interruption you'll ever see in your life," he says to the crowd, "And I know outside of friends and family, Christmas is about y'know -- the Lord. So in honor of the birth of Christ I'd like to introduce this next song..."

Two incredibly face melting riffs play simultaneously.

"We call it, 'Your Mother Sucks Cocks in Hell'."

You roll your eyes as the music starts, but on the bright side the twins are finally starting to nod off to sleep.

[kaile-hultner]

GoFundMe Update, 8/12/2024

Hey y'all! it's been about a week since the last GoFundMe update. We've hit a pretty predictable slow period in this fundraiser, a kind of doldrums, but I also got super busy over the last seven days, so it's all good there. So what's been going on in the past week?

To start with, as I mentioned last week I'm down to just one installment loan. This in itself has already made a massive difference just even in terms of how I'm feeling. It no longer feels like I'm being crushed by this massive weight on my shoulders or chest. I know I've mentioned this a lot, but it's such a weird feeling after experiencing the opposite for most of my adult life.

With that, things are already starting to change rapidly: my credit score has gone up 23 points in a week and a half, for example. I hate that this is even something we should have to pay attention to, but I can't help but feel relieved when number go up instead of down. The number of phone calls I'm getting per day, in the evenings, on the weekends - all the debt collection calls - has dropped dramatically. Now it's mostly just spam and companies trying to get me to take out more loans with them. I've experienced a burst of creative energy that has gotten me back in the game-playing-and-reviewing saddle - I just wrote a piece about "A Short Hike" as a donor request fulfillment exercise. (You can check that out here.) I was able to get through an entire weekend of work at my side-gig with no issues or delays—something I haven't been able to say for a few months. And when I finished that work? You'll never believe it, but I didn't feel stressed out or exhausted! I felt normal!

This doesn't automatically catapult me into 24/7 comfortable living, and now I really have to focus on the hard and dirty work of living within my means, building a budget and being an adult when it comes to daily choices, but I always knew that. This GFM has never been the magic bullet that would solve all of my problems - and I've never wanted it to be. However, it's helped assuage such a significant portion of my problems that I can focus on other things for once, and navigating that for the first time has been a pretty significant experience! This comes after months of having to transfer my paycheck from my bank to my Apple Pay account and a litany of other sketchy shit just to make sure it didn't all get swallowed up by various debt repayments and years of sometimes paying rent in parts instead of all at once. With most of that gone and cleared out, I no longer have to do all that! I don't feel like I'm constantly between a rock and a hard place, and that's… honestly pretty significant.

So what's next? Why am I still moving forward with the GFM towards $8000 and eventually $10000+?

Well, as I've said in prior updates, it's still pretty unbelievable that we reached $6500+ and I genuinely have no expectations about getting even a cent more. If nobody else donates, I think I would be pretty pleased with what this GFM was able to accomplish. But I don't think I'm totally out of the woods yet. Thanks to your help, I've upgraded from "basically completely underwater" to "balancing precariously on the edge of the dock," and there's a WORLD of difference between those two states. But that doesn't mean I don't ever again have to worry about the possibility of almost drowning.

Goal 4 would help me pay off my remaining installment loan, and with that close the book on that chapter of my life altogether. I've got these two annoying (paid monthly) loans in the background, but paying $40 and $78 a month respectively for them isn't really all that bad. It's not moving the needle the way these installment loans (paid every two weeks on my payday) were. I'd like to get rid of this final installment loan pretty quickly if possible. I'm currently just a bit under $1400 away from that goal, and I think it's pretty attainable.

Goal 5, $10,000, and Goal 6, $10,000+, are maybe my vaguest goals, so I want to flesh those out a bit. For those goals, I'm thinking of my long-term future more than anything immediate. If I can get anything past $8K, great! That will be money I put into a savings account and start adding to on my own. The reason I'm putting these goals at the end of this GFM is because in a little bit less than a year, I'm looking at the end of a pretty long arrangement I've had at the place I'm living, and the situation is that either rent is going to raise pretty significantly or (more likely) I'm going to be finding a new place to live. Having some money in savings is going to help me out with this in two ways: first, being able to pay a deposit on an apartment or absorb some of the cost of raised rent. Second, being able to put down a down payment on a car. My (smaller) worry is that, even with the radical erasure of my most immediate and crushing debts that this GFM has already afforded me, I may not have enough time to save this kind of money on my own, and/or that my credit score won't heal fast enough to qualify me for cheaper car payments, apartment deposits that aren't an arm and a leg, and so on. For context, I live in Oklahoma, which has a relatively cheap cost of living, but it's practically impossible to get around without a car as OKC's transit system is bootycheeks.

Finally (and least importantly), I promised when I set this GFM up that it would be the last time I asked for money from the Internet for this or any reason, outside of like a medical emergency. I set $10k up as a moonshot goal, something I didn't think it was possible to achieve - and yet here it is, barely $3400 away. If we make it to the end, that's gonna feel like a wild achievement! I'd finally be able to rest easy.

Here's a bad car metaphor I just thought of: you know how when you jump a car, you don't just plug up the jumper cables from one car to another and call it good when the car in need of jumping starts? You have to give it a little bit of extra juice in order for the car to restart its own charging capacity? That's kind of what this GFM is. I'm the car being jumped. The fundraiser is the other car revving its engine and giving me a bit of extra juice after I was able to start my own engine again.

See? told you it was bad.

Anyway, as always, I cannot thank those of you who have already donated enough. None of this would be possible if it wasn't for you, and my inbox is always open if you want to suggest cursed internet artifacts for me to look at. Someone suggested the entire series of Eyewitness children's science documentaries to me. I have no clue if I'll be able to find them. I've been vibing on the theme song for days tho. The only thing I would ask of you at this point is to share this GFM on social media, maybe link back to this update directly, and let's see if we can't find some extra wind for these sails to get us closer to that final goal. If you can't donate, please don't feel pressured to donate! Just reblogging it is more than enough help.

[violetasteracademic]

Hey bestie, was just wondering when chapter two comes out 🙂‍↕️ been refreshing ur page once an hour for dayyyyyys. 💓

Hi my friend!! So funny you should ask, it will be ready to go up by early evening tonight! I will let you know as soon as it is posted! (I'm in US central time zone. So about 6-7 hours from now)

I'm so honored and delighted to have you reading the new fic 🥹 I don't like to share toooo much of my personal life on here because this fandom is sadly not always kind to artists and writers when it comes to the hostility of the ship wars, but I do want to give a heads up that A Court of Twisted Fate will not be coming out *quite* as fast as Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow. I blacked out and wrote almost 100k words of Golden Doe in a total disassociative bender in under a month and a half while I was in between homes, closing the final chapter of my old life after a long fought for divorce, and set aside my 10 year long business and career. I was in a weird little vortex and could easily get a chapter out every few days. I want to be honest with myself and all of you that I will not be able to match that pace right now without massively sacrificing on quality and thorough edits!

If I haven't said it enough, you guys truly have no idea what the response to Golden Doe meant to me. Writing that fic helped me survive a very difficult time. I had never written a fic before and didn't even have an ao3 account, I had to wait a few weeks to be allowed in. I had no idea anyone would read it, and sharing that story wound up being one of the most special and joyful times of my life, which seems impossible when I look back on what I was going through! I just... Thank you. I don't know what else to say. Thank you a million times, every day, forever.

I am starting life completely over in a new city and a 1940's bungalow that has had a few catastrophes since moving in 🫣 I'm hard at work job hunting in this nightmare economy and fixing up the urgent items in the house! So it's a different kind of busy filled with lots of fear and anxiety and mental exhaustion. Thus, I'm also trying to give myself lots of time to heal and recover. I'm hoping for a chapter once a week this round, but I might need some grace for up to two weeks!

This might be a good opportunity to answer some other questions I've gotten. Some have noticed the new rating is M instead of E. There WILL still be smut, but this is more of a dark and spooky old school style slow burn and very story forward. And while I hesitate to say the spice will be more vanilla, it is not as kink forward as Golden Doe! It will still be spicier and more detailed than what SJM would typically write (y'all she's tame in my book) but a different style. That being said, the piece is not finished. Sooooo.... 🦇 we'll see if kinky Azriel body snatches me again and demands that the spice be freakier and more frequent. In which case I'll update the rating.

Golden Doe started as an M rating and 15 planned chapters, and we all saw how that worked out!

I'm pushing myself to create a unique world and characters that are not just a carbon copy of Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow. Of course, it is still canon Elain and Azriel! But I'm focusing on different sides of them. I hope you all enjoy it just as much, but if it winds up not being your vibe, do know I have a few ideas bouncing around for Golden Doe continuations, additional Elriel fics, and my inbox is always open for ideas and prompts/requests!!

[leehqnrio]

Kim Leehan (Fluff, Suggestive)

Something more fluffy for y'all <3 (probably suggestive?? idk i'm bad at tagging these lol). Short and sweet nonetheless. Sleepy Hyunie <3

Leehan loves your chest. He thinks it makes a great pillow. It's a common occurrence for him to fall asleep like that, his head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat. He can't get enough. You eventually learnt not to question it.

It had been a long day, both you and your boyfriend were tired. Beyond tired. From the minute he stepped through the door, Leehan had clung to you like a sad puppy, pouting, complaining about just how tired he was. He complained all the while you were making dinner, cleaning up after dinner, doing his routine and getting ready for bed. Even whilst he was watching his fish, which meant that he was extremely tired. He was sat at the counter with his head in his crossed arms, sighing and telling you how he didn't know how his body was still functioning. You simply laughed at him, patting his head every time you walked past. He was adorable like this.

When you finally got into bed, he shuffled to get as close to you as he possibly could, squeezing and tickling you in the process. Eventually, he got comfortable, his face slightly lower than yours, your arms around his neck, his around your waist. He tangled his legs with yours and drowsily smiled up at you. You laughed at the cute act and gently kissed his lips. You stayed like that for a while, cuddling and kissing. Until eventually, the exhaustion caught up to the both of you.

Leehan shuffled even further down your body, ending up with his face directly against your chest. He kissed each side gently, before resting his face in the middle. You could feel him smile cheekily. "Uhh..." You said quietly. "Yes babe?" He said, his voice muffled by your flesh. "What are you doing?" You asked jokingly. "Sleeping." His replies were full of innocence, making you laugh at the contrast from the position he was in. "Can you even breathe?" He nodded, keeping his face exactly where it was. You smiled again, before petting his hair, and he nuzzled into the feeling. Not feeling sleepy enough to settle for the night, you decided to go on Tiktok for a while. One arm underneath Leehan's head holding your phone, the other hand resting on his head, lightly playing with his hair. About half an hour later, you turned to your boyfriend again. He was now fully asleep, his eyes closed, his lips parted slightly, his breathing deep and even. He looked so peaceful. You smiled, turning your phone off and getting more comfortable. You kissed the top of his head before setting off into your own slumber.